#somebody whose protective

[geeky-nightphilosopher]

Can we all appreciate the things Eliot will do for his team.

Like walk around an open field.

Singing in the van.

Allow them to poke him.

Not get the right salt.

Sound like him.

Eliot is a real gem and I wish I had a man like him.

[sweetinsaniiity]

Sick, Little Games

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - psycho!blackmailer!mingi x fem!reader!Y/N ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜/𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 - smut with plot, blackmail, gaslighting, Mingi is kind of a dom!, restraint (via rope), public sex (fingering), semi-exhibitionism, hair-pulling, reluctance, corruption kink, it becomes consensual, creampie, no protection (do NOT do this!), cum swapping/transferring, fluff, falling in love ◄ ► 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - MDNI, violence, mentions of rape, sexual assault ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 20K (I swear I tried to make this shorter) ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - All you wanted was to go home and relax on a Friday night, so you take the subway. There, you encounter a man whose character prevents you from leaving. No seriously, he literally prevents you from leaving by tying a rope on your wrists while holding the other end with his big, strong hands. The rope isn't the only thing those hands will hold tonight. ◄

► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - Welp this one is a little darker, let me know if I missed a couple of tags. This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent Ateez in real life. Join the taglist here. Title from All Time Low. BONUS CHAPTER IS UP! ◄

Home is all I ever wanted to be right now. The thought of my warm, cozy bed with me on it buried under my fluffy blanket is making me walk faster towards my destination - the subway.

I sighed in relief when I noticed there weren't many people, in fact there was literally no one at all except maybe the occasional passing of the cleaners and one man who was standing idly by the edge of the platform, I'm assuming he was also waiting for the next train.

I could feel his eyes staring me down even though I stood ten feet away from him. Maybe he was surprised to see somebody still waiting like him? Either way, when he didn't look away, I knew I had to make small talk to make things less awkward.

"It's finally the weekend now, huh?" I greeted him.

He was tall, maybe at six feet give or take, and he wore jeans partnered with a black blouse underneath a blacker cardigan that hung nicely against his toned frame. 

He tilted his head at me curiously and a slow smirk creeped up on his face. "Yes, it is. What's a lady like you doing out here so late at night?"

"Oh, I have a part time job at the restaurant a couple of blocks away from here, shift ended late," I replied cheerily.

He raised a brow up. "You look awfully young to be working."

"No, well, technically I'm still in university."

"Oh? Where?"

"Seoul University, I'm in my third year."

A slight smile tilted his thick lips upward. "Interesting. I graduated there three or four years ago. How are you liking it so far?"

I glanced at nowhere in particular to give it some thought. "I suppose it's okay," I shrugged, "I only have one year left anyway."

He bit his lips and nodded slowly. "Third year's usually the time when you get sick of what you're doing and you end up hating everything."

I giggled in amusement. "Well that's an interesting way to look at it, you've been in my shoes once so I understand."

He stares at me deeper, his smirk growing wider. "Too harsh?"

"No," I shook my head. "You were just telling the truth."

"I suppose I was," he chuckled. "What's your name?"

"Ah, I'm Y/N," I said without missing a beat. "You?"

He hesitated for a couple of seconds before he replied. "Call me Min for now."

I frowned. That was odd. Your name isn't usually something you think about because it's an automatic response.

"Pretty name for a pretty lady," he coolly puts his hands in his jean pockets.

I grinned at him. "Glad I have your approval, Min. Are you always like this to people you see on the subway?"

I saw a small shiver go through him before he pursed his lips. "Maybe," he shrugged. "You never know who crosses your path one day."

Something about his tone and the way he said it made it sound like he hit the jackpot, but I ignored it. Maybe it was just in my head, I mean, I am pretty tired today.

It got silent again after that. I was finally able to stare at him a little better. 

He was insanely handsome - hot, actually - he had short, dark hair that was equally messy and slicked back neatly, and it didn't help that he wore these black, thick, squared type glasses, and it made him look so charismatic.

I looked at him again when his deep voice startled me. "I don't mean to bother you, but do you have the time on you?"

A mild shiver passed through me, the good kind. His voice was deep. I cleared my throat. "Uh yeah, sure, give me a second..."

He hummed while I took a glance at my phone. I saw him eyeing the phone. "It's a quarter past 10."

He nodded in response, dragging a heavy sigh. "Getting impatient?" I asked in amusement. He scoffed softly.

"Patience is a virtue," I joked.

His sharp eyes pierce my doe-like ones, darkening significantly. "I am not known for my patience," he smirked.

I frowned at his bizarre choice of words, about to retort something profound back, but the distinct sounds of the oncoming train made me swallow my words.

"About damn time," I muttered.

"Patience is a virtue," he mocked.

He started walking towards me with slow, but long strides. He didn't break eye contact with me while doing so, and my heart started erratically breathing. The way he walked reminded me of a predator stalking its prey.

I brushed my own thoughts off, that was just absurd. I tried to calm myself by breathing in and out and by the time he reached where I was standing, the train was almost here anyway, so I just ignored him.

Suddenly, I felt him wrap his arm around my waist from behind me. I gasped loudly when his hand squeezed the fleshy part of my waist painfully.

"What the hell are you doing, Min?" I growled, turning my head around to scowl at him, but it was no use. Besides the fact that he was tall, his firm chest pushed out and prevented me from looking at him.

"Don't move," he whispered, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine, the bad kind.

He pulled me flush against him and now my back was completely touching his frontal body. It sent my body on overdrive and I thrashed this time to try to get free, but it was no use.

"I said," he put his other hand on my shoulder. "Don't move."

The train stopped, the door directly in front of us. I was petrified at this point. This man can do anything to me and none would be the wiser.

After what seemed like forever, the train finally departed and that's when I snapped out of whatever trance I was in. 

"Wait, don't go!" I wailed at the moving train, but it was no use. I despaired, that was the last ride until the next day.

I heard him chuckle from behind me, I felt his chest rumbling at the sound. It all happened so fast; one second he turned me around to face him and the next thing I knew he was tying a rope around my wrists as tightly as he could.

"Should've been louder, maybe someone could have heard you," he paused, looking down on me with his sharp eyes. "Then again, I would have just covered that pretty mouth anyway."

"Wait, please don't do this," I whimpered.

"Why not?" he asked, not stopping from tying a series of complicated knots on my wrists, each tug tighter than before it, but surprisingly, it didn't hurt.

"What do you mean why not?" I couldn't help but snap at him. "You're insane!"

He didn't respond, he unfurrowed his thick brows, once he was done with the last knot. He, then, wrapped the other end of the rope with his own hand.

His face didn't give away any sort of emotion as we stared at each other with what seemed like an eternity. I grew fearful of this man, there was no way I could fight him because he was much, much bigger than me even if I tried.

I tried to back away, but there was only so much I could do because the rope would stop me and tug me back.

"Don't come any closer," I raised my hands, or rather, my fists since my wrists were bound together.

He tilted his head inquisitively, still staring at me impassively. I panicked, tugging my hands as hard as I could and wiggling my wrists to try and loosen the thick rope, but all it did was give me rug burns. He sighed, tugging the rope once, making me pause at my ministrations.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked in a small voice.

Shrugging, he tugged on the rope again, this time a little forcefully, but not enough for me to get dragged to him. 

"No, wait, please," I pulled my hands harder, stronger, making his brows rise. "Please take it off, I-I'll give you money."

He smirked. "No."

"But--"

"No offense, angel, but I will probably make what you make in two weeks within a day."

"So you don't need me then," I laughed nervously. "Please, just take it off, I won't tell anybody."

Crossing his arms, he shook his head. "I'm not taking it off."

"Why?" I was scared, nervous, desperate at this point.

Min tugged the rope for real this time, I had no choice but to walk to him begrudgingly.

"Because I don't want to," he whispered. He was so close that I could smell the minty gum he was chewing on. "Come here."

He had the audacity to smile at me as he pulled me against his chest again, this time, facing him with my tied wrists between us. "Much better," he mumbled.

I narrowed my eyes on him. "Is this what you do in your spare time? Do you always have a rope on you?"

He raised a brow in amusement. "No. First time actually."

I tried to wiggle away from his vice grip. "Please don't hurt me."

"Never," he shook his head.

"So let me go," I pleaded.

I swallowed, my blood running cold against my veins. There was only one thing I could think of, then. His eyes roamed over my face, as if he knew what I was thinking.

"I'm not going to do whatever you're thinking," he sighed. "I'm not going to fuck you."

"Kind of hard not to assume you're not going to force yourself on me," I chuckled with no humour, cheeks blushing at his crudeness.

"Only if you want to," he grinned. He sighed when he saw no response on my end. "I will not hurt you so long as you don't fight me."

"Let me go then."

"No. I'm not going to repeat myself." It was a flat declaration and there was an underlying threat in his voice. 

"How long are you going to take me captive then?"

"Assuming that I'll even let you go in the first place," he shrugged.

I stared at him in horror. I felt his hand on my arm, the ghost of his touch tickling me, higher and higher up until it reached my hair. He stroked my hair  like a parent soothing their child. 

I gasped when he slightly tugged on it, I was expecting a sting on my scalp, but nothing. He went back to stroking my hair again, then tugging it ever so slightly. I made the mistake of sighing at his touch.

"You like that?" he murmured.

I didn't respond. I felt confused like I have never been before. Not to say that I'm happy that I was a prisoner in his arms, but my body began relaxing before I knew it.

He started tracing random patterns on my back, rendering me even more confused. Strands of my hair were also tucked behind my ear. "Pretty," he murmured again. "It would be a shame if I just..."

I groaned when he tugged my hair a little harder, enough for me to look up at him, but not enough for him to pull my hair out. "Ow!"

"Stop trying to untie them," he pointed at the wrists. "It's not going to work."

I gritted my teeth aggressively. Damn it, I thought, I thought he wouldn't notice me tinkering with the rope as he played with my hair and touched my back. 

My eyes widened when he slowly leaned forward, his face getting close to mine. I panicked, a short burst of adrenaline rushed through me as I pulled myself free from his grasp.

I swung my fists forward, a shocked look passed through Min's face, barely missing his face he quickly ducked down to avoid my hit. I squeaked when he grasped my wrists painfully and pushed me away rather roughly.

"Not bad," he laughed. "That would have been really bad if you actually hit me, yes?"

I ran off in a hurry, but quickly got stopped by the restriction the rope gave me. I hissed in pain, it had managed to dig into my skin a bit and leave red, angry welts on it.

Min frowned at me, his eyes softening as he stared at me trying to soothe the pain. He stood looking at me a few feet apart, his hand outstretched a bit towards my direction as if he wanted to beckon me over.

"You," I exhaled. "You stay where you're at, and stay away from me."

His lips twitched up in delight. "Or what?"

I blabbered like a fish, my mouth agape as my brain went into overdrive. What the hell is wrong with this man? I must've said that aloud, because the way he grinned at me with a look of amusement was making me nervous.

"I'm going to scream," I informed him.

He smiled. "Go ahead."

And so I did. I screamed, I yelled, I shouted, I screeched like a banshee like my life depended on it - well, technically, it does - and I did this for five minutes straight, but nothing. 

I wasn't soft at it either, I was yelling. Min was leaning on a nearby wall with his arms crossed, silently watching me and letting me do my thing.

I was extremely frustrated at this point. Now that I think about it, it's extremely abnormal to have absolutely nobody around, but then, I remembered that it was a Friday night and everybody was either already resting or getting drunk out of their minds. It didn't help that the subway was also underground.

"It's just you and me, doll face," he stated, biting his bottom lip and chewing on it a bit. "Save yourself the trouble."

"You can't possibly keep me here forever," I scoffed at him.

He nodded slowly in acknowledgement. "I don't see why that's a bad idea."

"If you think I'm not going to put up a fight with you, then you're sorely mistaken," I sarcastically remarked, pausing when I felt my wrists sting again.

"I'd like to see you try," he chuckled, the sound of his raspy voice echoing all over the station. It further solidified the emptiness of the place.

I thought about my next move carefully. He doesn't want money, and to be fair, I had nothing much to offer anyway. He's calm and collected, that means he knows exactly what he is doing. He has a rope, for God's sake, what else can possibly have?

"I'd really like to go home now, I'm exhausted and I have no time for your games, Min, seriously," I pleaded, hoping to try my luck on the poor damsel distress act.

"You don't really have to do anything," he shrugged. "I'm not going to make you do what you don't want to do."

I raise my brow at him with a sarcastic lift of my tied hands. He laughed a little. "That doesn't count," he laughed, his chest rising up and down.

I scoffed loudly. "What?" I barked. "Are you for real? How deranged are you? Why are you really doing this?"

He watched me intently, staring at me directly in the eye without blinking. His sharp eyes made me so uncomfortable, like he was undressing me from where I stood just by the motion of his eyes.

His lips lift into a smirk. "Because I can."

Steam started coming out of my ears. I don't care if he kills me or does whatever he wants, I was mad. "Really? Is your birthstone crystal meth?" I sassed, rolling my eyes at him to emphasize my point.

Min raises his brows so high his thick glasses couldn't cover them, then he looks down on the floor, but not before I saw the smallest smile on his face. It was probably the most genuine one I've seen tonight. He was trying not to laugh. 

"What a mouth you have, you sweet little thing," he chuckled. "How about you come closer to me right now?"

"But you said you're not going to make me do things I don't like," I frowned.

His sharp eyes narrowed, staring into my wary ones. "And I stand by that."

He pointed at my wrists with his index finger. I didn't realize he was wearing a lot of rings on his hands, but this one in particular had a nice black ring. "That looks like that hurts."

I stared down at my wrists. Indeed, they were close to being ugly and painful blisters because of how much friction I was causing them, friction I barely noticed because of the adrenaline rush and survival instinct to free myself of this damned thing.

"It does," I admitted. "Because you're letting me suffer by not letting me go."

He shook his head. "That's a strong word. I can make it better," he offered softly.

"How?"

A sly smirk makes its way on his plump lips. He pats the wall beside him, his stare not wavering a bit. "Come," he said softly.

I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn't get stuck behind my head. "Absolutely not," I snapped. "I'd rather let my wrists rot."

"You sure?"

He was waving a tube of a familiar generic ointment you'd see everywhere, the cocky twinkle in his eyes palpable. I gulped, the stinging sensation on my skin getting a bit more intense at the sight of what could be temporary relief on my end.

But alas, I chose to turn around and ignore him. I heard him sigh loudly from behind me and the distinctness of his cardigan rustling as he moved from his position.

"Seriously now," he began. When I still had my back turned on him and still completely ignoring him, he sneered. "Alright, whatever, I guess."

I peered over at him and saw him leaning back on the wall with his arms crossed again, staring me down. I hissed loudly when I accidentally angled my arm wrong, causing the rope to dig in a bit and rub against the sensitive parts of my skin.

"Fine," I scowled. I held my hand out in the air. "Toss it."

He laughed, his deep, hoarse voice booming towards me. If he wasn't such a jerk, I might have found that sexy. He grinned, taunting me by wiggling his fingers back and forth. 

"No, no, no, sweetie pie," he sneered. "You're going to come here and get it from me."

The colour from my face drained. I bit my lip apprehensively, and I didn't miss the dark and dismal look in his eyes. I don't want to go to him in case he does something shady, but is it better than being restrained?

I scowled at him. Unfortunately, nothing was better than this. My legs felt like lead, heavily treading towards him. He gave me an amused look because I had to crane my head upwards just so I could look at him.

I couldn't help the blush that reddened my ears. Darn this man, he was unfairly good looking. The way he looked at me made my insides flip upside down with anticipation and I did not like it one bit.

"Well?" I asked impatiently.

"Actually," he clicked his tongue. "I don't think so."

My brain had a major explosion. I widened my eyes at him. "That deal has already sailed," he smiled, patting my nose with his finger. "My God, you're cute," he commented when I grimaced at him.

"Please, they really hurt," I whined. I wasn't lying at this point, I had sensitive skin due to eczema and the littlest irritation can lead to the worst flare ups that usually last from a couple of weeks to a month depending on how bad they get.

He stared at me with a blank expression, though it is not to be mistaken with nonchalance, no. I can tell he was already calculating in his head on what he should do next.

He puts a finger on his chin, lightly stroking his thumb over it as his scorching gaze pierced through mine. I gulped when he suddenly brought his glasses lower on the bridge of his nose as his eyes peered from above the thick glasses.

His eyes were much sharper than I thought they were when the glasses weren't obstructing them. I had this urge to fold in on myself when he studied me deeper. I have never felt this exposed in my entire life before and I was fully clothed. Warmth spread on my entire lower groin.

"Hands up," he instructed, pushing his glasses back up. I was told and he held the knots that bound me. "I'm going to untie you so I can apply the ointment."

Before I could celebrate the tiny hope he had given me, he continued. "If you try to run away," he said softly, still looking at me. "I'm going to force you back. I don't want to hurt you."

I nodded. His fingertips trace my whole arm, smirking when he noticed the goosebumps he had caused, all the way down to my wrists. My breath hitched when he blew on my blistering skin to attempt to calm the redness down.

"I know it hurts," he whispered, his tone soothing my ears with tenderness. "Hold still, yeah? I promise I'll be gentle..."

He worked on the complicated knots he had made, tugging at them until they slowly loosened. He gently and carefully lifted the rope off and caressed the sensitive skin underneath, and just like that I was untied.

Then I made a run for it.

I ran as far as my legs could carry me, and before I knew it I had ran deeper into the isolated part of the station, but I didn't care as long as I could get away from that lunatic. I'll find somewhere temporary to hide and wait until he leaves so I can---

I screamed when I felt strong arms wrap around my waist, and before I knew it, I was lifted up and hoisted over Min's left shoulder, my bottom up in the air and my legs flailing around.

"Put me down!" I cried, hitting his back with my fists angrily. 

"Behave."

I shut my mouth at his clipped tone. I did, however, let out another scream in surprise when I felt his hand come down my behind harshly.

Spanking my ass was definitely the last thing I thought he'd do in this ridiculous situation. I was tempted to smack his butt back since it was literally in front me, but I decided against it.

"You're being an awfully naughty girl right now, don't you think?" I can practically hear the smirk on his voice as he walked a bit.

I was set down rather delicately, but I can't say the same when he pushed me against a nearby wall because it was rough. I whimpered when he grabbed my hands and put them up and also pressed them against the wall.

"What are you going to do to me?" I whispered.

He was so close to my face, so close that if he only leaned a bit our lips would touch. "What would you like me to do to you?" he asked, his voice huskier than normal.

"Let me go."

"Except that."

"I will report you to the authorities, someone has to find us eventually," I threatened, or at least that's how it sounded in my ear.

He tilted his head in amusement. "With what information?"

He was right. I only have a first name, but not a family name. He laughed, but his grin didn't quite reach his eyes. "You can tell them the name I gave you, if that is even my real name, then yes, by all means, sweetheart."

I mustered up the courage to speak. "So what is it, then?"

"Why do you wanna know? So you can scream it for me?"

I looked at him in disgust. "Seriously," I rolled my eyes.

He chuckled lightly. "Hands. And no running."

This time he actually applied the ointment for real on my hands. The way he spread the soothing balm all over the affected area made me sigh in relief, to which he smiled. If we weren't in the most unusually messed up situation right now, I might have swooned at how sweet he was being.

He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, however. The rope was back on my wrists, albeit looser this time.

"Are you going to tell me your real name?" I inquired as we both sat down on the filthy floor of the subway station, our backs leaning against the cool wall.

He met my eyes, the brown orbs analyzing me. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"You're insufferable."

"What are you willing to give me in return?"

I paused, genuinely thinking about it for a moment. I sighed in defeat when I couldn't think of literally anything. But his smirk told me otherwise.

"What are you doing?" I asked apprehensively at his onslaught.

My eyes widened when his fingers traced my cheeks, down to my jawline, and towards my lips. I was frozen on the spot. "You should moisturize your lips often, love," he whispered. 

He pulls on my bottom lip and gently sticks his fingertips in between my lips. "Open up for me."

I put my bound hands on top of his to attempt to push him away, but he was stronger. "Are you being serious right now?" I gaped at him.

"Tick tock, the deal won't be on the table for long," he shrugged.

I glared at him. "You'll give me what I want if I do it?"

His smirk widens. "Yes."

I sighed in defeat, opening up my mouth ever so slightly, but his long, thick fingers forced them to open wider anyway. Butterflies started to form in my stomach and I looked everywhere except him. God, this felt weirdly intimate for some reason.

"Suck."

"Now hold on just a minute," I backed away, effectively swatting his hand away in annoyance. "You did not just ask me to do what I thought you did."

"But I did," he replied cockily.

"I can't believe you!" I exclaimed, incredulous at the ridiculous request. 

I was so annoyed at this point and I wanted nothing but to bang my head against the concrete floor after I banged his.

"You know what to do if you want something out of me," he was tracing my lips again with his finger.

I heaved a long sigh, swallowing all the pride I had and grabbed his arm and with that, I put his index, middle, and ring finger in my mouth while I maintained eye contact with him.

He stared at me with hooded eyes, his gaze significantly darkening with every passing second. He let out a deep groan when I made slurping sounds as I lapped his fingers like it was the tastiest thing I have ever had. I swirled my tongue all over his fingers and even gave his palm a lick.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down repeatedly, especially when I bit his fingers softly. I alternated between that, licking, and as well as sucking. I was definitely being filthy with it, and it was absolutely humiliating to do whatever this was.

His other hand pushes my head off gently and he withdraws his fingers from my mouth. He sighed sensually when my drool dripped down from his fingers to all over his hand. 

"Here," his voice was thick. I froze when he traced my lips again, but this time, he coated them with my own saliva. "Now they're not dry anymore," he smirked.

He didn't stop there. I stopped breathing when he put the very same fingers in his own mouth. He chuckled at my dumbfounded expression.

The desire that flashed through his eyes took me aback a little when I realized I was trying to discern his taste by smacking my mouth obnoxiously. I blushed, I wasn't doing it on purpose, he had this salty, sensual taste to him that took my breath away.

"So, uhm, what is it?" I questioned, not missing the tremor my voice now held.

"Oh. It's Song."

I waited a couple of seconds for him to continue, but when I realized that he wasn't going to, my patience thinned significantly. "That's it?" I hissed. "Song what?"

"That wasn't part of the deal, you have to be specific next time," he shrugged with his eyes closed, but I can see a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Ugh! Have you no shame?!"

He slowly opened his eyes, staring at me intently, then leaned a little closer to my face. "If I did," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave lower. "You wouldn't be here right now."

I instinctively leaned away from him. "At least you're aware ," I mumbled.

It must be closer to midnight now, I can feel it, we've been at this ridiculous game of cat and mouse for a while now. I sighed deeply while I pictured my cat, King, waiting for me home. It's a good thing I overfilled his water and snack bowl today, I just had a gut feeling. Unfortunately, I was correct.

"Penny for your thoughts, water lily?" he asked all of a sudden.

I scoffed, not even bothering to look at him. "None of your damn business," I spat.

"That's too bad," he chuckled. "I was hoping to barter an exchange with you again."

That made my ears perk up and my eyes twinkle, but I wasn't buying it. He's cunning, sly, and manipulative. There was no way in hell I was trusting anything he said at this point.

A certain slashing sound sliced through the air and in my peripheral vision, I saw Min holding something in his hand and twirling it around like it was a toy.

I whipped my head back towards him in curiosity and his smirk grew wider at the small gasp I let out.

"Change your mind yet?" he questioned with a beam.

There was a softness to his appearance in conjunction to his rugged features. Truth be told, he was probably the most attractive man I have ever seen in my life and I don't think I will ever find another one that will come close.

I scoffed. "Not only do you have a rope, but you also have a pocket knife on you like it's the most normal thing in the entire world." 

I groaned, swinging my head back and the back of it against the wall in frustration. "What the hell is happening to me lately," I cursed.

I felt something soft instead of the hard wall when I leaned back again.

"What can I say? Having both is part of my work," he muttered, his hand sandwiched between my head and the wall. "Stop before you hurt yourself."

"Work? Well, what are you? A mobster?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He blinked at me a couple of times before he burst out laughing. He was actually laughing, and my heart jumped at the pleasant sound. I stared at him as his body vibrated with mirth, his eyes formed into these tiny crescent as they disappeared from his mouth stretched out in a charming grin. Even his laugh was so damn attractive.

"Why?" he grinned, wiping an imaginary tear from underneath his glasses with the same hand that held hy head from the wall. "Do I look like one to you?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, frowning at him. "Are you?"

He surveyed me when he calmed down, gauging I was serious at knowing the answer to my question, but after a moment, he shook his head as he watched me carefully.

"No," he denied with a small smile.

Another laugh escaped him when he saw my irritated expression and amusement was all his eyes showed as he watched me try to cross my arms but failed since my hands were literally bound together and it was borderline impossible to even do anything remotely close.

"Uncomfortable?" he clicked his tongue.

I glared at him intensely. "What do you think?" I hissed, extremely annoyed at the fact that I can't even do anything. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I am," he replied, angering me. "Very much so, actually. But I'd enjoy it more if you'd just give in to me."

"Not a chance," I jeered with an aggravated sigh. "So if Min isn't your real name, what do I call you then?"

"Min's good for now," he shrugged, twirling the knife again expertly in his nimble hands. "And what a shame, I can be good for you, you know?"

I wanted nothing but to slap the smug look on his face to oblivion. "I think I can live without knowing what that's like," I snorted.

His brows knit together. "Suit yourself," he shrugged. "I guess we'll be here for a while."

When he saw me glaring daggers, no pun intended, at the small pocket knife he held in his hands, he twirled them faster, tempting me to just stand up and kick his balls as hard as humanly possible so I could get it.

But along that was the underlying fear that I truly didn't know what he truly wanted with me. That, alone, makes me even more terrified of being here.

I gulped apprehensively and his face switched to something else when he noticed. "You're not going to use that on me, are you?" I pointed at the blade.

He shook his head. "No. Not now, not ever. I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you."

"Besides," he continued. "If you come to me by force, then I don't want it."

He smirked at me suggestively, to which I scoffed softly, but loud for him to hear. "I'm too good for you," I rolled my eyes at him.

Well. Not entirely. In any normal circumstances, someone like him wouldn't even be in the same room as me. I couldn't point my finger at it at first, but a man this self-assured and dauntless must be someone of higher authority and money, I was sure of it.

"That, you are, my peach," he agreed. Something surges in his eyes when he noticed the blush that covered my cheeks.

God, his eyes. There was a lifetime of struggle in there that has never been put into words. His face in general, he was out of my league.

He glances at my bound wrists and for a second, I thought he was going to set me loose. My eyes widened when he put the sheath back on the blade and set it aside, instead.

"What?" he taunted. "You don't want to cooperate."

I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath in defeat. "I'm at a total loss right now. You want me to exchange you something, correct?"

He nods enthusiastically. "But not the knife?" I quipped.

"I don't want to let you go yet," he shook his head.

"I am aware..."

A small smile forms on his face as his brows shoot up, waiting for me to continue. "But I have nothing more to offer you," I rambled. "I have nothing on me that will interest you."

"And that, my little dove," he hummed. "Is where you're wrong."

Hot, red anger coursed through my veins when he dug into the pockets of his black cardigan and took out my wallet.

"Where did you even get that?" I seethed.

He shrugged. "Take a wild guess."

I wanted to scream in disbelief. He must've gotten his hands on it when he carried me earlier. I had a terrible habit of putting my wallet in the back pocket of any pants I wore.

"Even if I let you go, how would you get home?" he said. "Taking the subway meant you lived a decent distance from here."

He was right. Walking was out of the question because if I did, I would walk three hours. The subway cut the journey into half an hour.

I stared at him, calculating how I would get my wallet out of his claws and taking him down at the same time.

"Don't even think about it," he laughed. "I'm much bigger than you, and you know it."

"What do you want, Min?" I sighed in desperation. "Tell me what is it that you want so you can let me go, what do you want from me?"

He tilted his head to meet my eyes, slowly jutting his arms out to reach towards me and touch my chin lightly. He titled my face gently in his direction, and I was able to meet his eye as well.

"I want you," he spoke softly. "You would think that tying you up would make that very obvious."

I couldn't look away from his burning gaze even if I tried; I could have held it forever. His eyes were dangerously penetrating, he looked pure male at this very moment.

"Tying me up is not the solution, though, you psycho," I frowned at him.

"Humour me this," he uttered, waving his hands in the air as he spoke. "It's almost midnight and when you get to the sub, there's a big, scary man waiting in there, wanting to say hi..."

He paused, waiting for me to internalize the imagery. When it dawned on me, I sighed. "See what I mean, babygirl?" he chuckled.

"Don't call me that," I snapped. "Also your logic is ass."

He smirked, ignoring my statement. "Call you what?"

My scowls deepened when his eyes slowly trailed down from my eyes to my chest. He laughed when I lifted my wrists to attempt to hide them, but there was no point. I growled for him to look away, but of course, he was who he was and he only stared at me, not saying anything back. 

His gaze wasn't uncomfortable, rather, there was a hint of wonder in them and it made my breathing constricted and shallow.

I know that look - it was scheming. The lasciviousness in which he stared at me was shamefully making my core ache, the patch of wetness staining my underwear was proof enough.

He sat straighter and his form, especially his upper torso, became bigger. He inched closer to me. "Kiss me," he whispered breathily.

There was a bomb that went off in my brain. I blinked owlishly at him. "Excuse me?"

He bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. "You heard me, Y/N. I want you to want me."

He licked his lips, his eyes clouding over when I shivered involuntarily when his deep, sultry voice said my name like he was praying for me to say yes.

His brows raise and his eyes widen a bit when I start to advance, leaning my face very slowly towards his face. His Adam's apple bobs up and down and his eyes flutter close as he held his breath.

Instead, I went to his ear as closely as possible and whispered, "Go kiss the wall instead, you sick fuck."

I didn't know what else to say, but more so, I didn't want him to see that he was getting to me little by little. He was manipulative, calculating, and conniving.

"God," he let out a groan that sounded like a tortured animal. He closed his eyes tightly as if in pain. "You're such a tease, little tart..."

He banged his head a couple of times on the same wall he stopped me from banging my head down. He rested his head on it for a while.

I couldn't help but stare at his face and how peaceful it looked when his face was relaxed. I couldn't believe this was the cocky and arrogant man that held me hostage.

He suddenly opened his eyes and they were darker than I previously saw, his smirk was dirtier too. "I'll give you your wallet back if you kiss me."

"Are you kidding me? Seriously?" I shrieked exasperatedly. "This is essentially blackmailing!"

"Call it whatever you want," he grinned. "But yes, I do agree."

"Now you're just doing this on purpose! You're going to get what you want anyway, why don't you just do it?"

He paused, his brow raised. "Okay," he shrugged.

Before I can process what was happening, Min lifted me from the ground and placed me on his lap, and now, I was straddling him. His heavy eyes were the last thing I saw before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me towards his lips.

"Wait--"

I whined on his lips, trying my very best to push his hard chest with my fists, but all that did was instigate him to wrap his arms around me and pull me even closer.

Surprisingly, he wasn't rough with it, but he wasn't gentle either - just desperate. I felt his tongue lick my lips, pushing them apart. He moaned lowly when I wasn't giving in, and his moan got louder when I unconsciously scratched his chest at those unholy sounds.

"Baby, please let me in," he rasped, his lips giving mine little kitten pecks as he spoke through the kiss. "Here, take this."

He momentarily broke the kiss and put my wallet in my pockets for me. I was frozen, I could feel both of our heartbeats going very fast, and I gasped when his hand squeezed my hips firmly.

"I can't do this," I said breathlessly.

He hushed me, leaning in and kissing my jawline slowly. I tensed under his touch, and he stops to hold my face between his hands.

"Relax," his breath was shallow as he looked me in the eye. His intense eyes lingered on my nervous face. "I'll be gentle, okay? Just give in to me, kitten, please."

He was about to lean again, but his black glasses kept hindering the movement. He cursed under his breath as he tried to adjust it.

"Take it off for me," he demanded, his voice taut.

"How?" I gulped, my brain blank with all the overwhelming sensation he was giving me.

"Use your teeth."

Panic started to take over my body. I could feel it trying to push itself out of my stomach, my chest, my throat, my head. I wanted to throw up. I whimpered when his hand went up to my waist and pressed on it, a jolt of pleasure shot down to my clenching wetness.

I swallowed, leaning towards his face, tingles spreading through my scalp as his eyes never left me as I took the black frame in between my teeth and spit it out.

I gasped when I saw his eyes, not because of how heated and impassioned they were, but because of what they literally looked like - dark, seductive, desperate.

I felt my heart constricting tightly. He was painfully beautiful, and looked so dangerous.

"Come here," he growled, crashing his lips against mine once more.

I gasped in pain when he roughly tugged my hair back. I was so taken aback when he forcefully put his tongue in. I refused to let my tongue play with his, mewling and struggling from his hold.

"Oh," I moaned quietly when he bit my lower lip, suckling it gently with a force that knocked the air out of me.

"You're insane, doll, the woman you are," he voice was thick with lust. "You're turning me on even more."

"Stop!" I squealed in abrupt pleasure when his hips bucked up, his hardening erection suddenly pressing on my clothed mound.

An animalistic growl tore out from his chest when he dominantly grabbed my ass and started pushing me in and out, manually grinding me on his hardness fast and hard.

"Oh my fucking God," he grunted, burying his face on the crook of my neck as he pulled me harder. "Oh, God, oh, shit.."

I was moaning along with him, pathetically savouring the feel of my warm heat dry humping his bulging hardness. I was ashamed of myself, for imagining how big he was based on how he felt. 

The only thing to be heard in the empty subway station was our breaths, filthy kissing sounds, and the obscene moans from the both of us. Desire flowed through us, causing our bodies to melt against one another

He pulled away for a moment and I blushed at how red his face was and how bruised his lips already were. "I need to touch you," he croaked. "Can I touch you? I--"

"Hey, did you hear that?"

Cold reality washed over me as if a bucket of freezing ice was poured from my head in one go. I pushed him as hard as I could, as hard as my shame would take me, crawled out of his lap with disgust.

"Wait," he hissed, grabbing me by the arm as he stood up. I whimpered at his demeaning tone, but also how roughly he held my arm. 

"Silence," he growled at me. "There's people in here."

The look on his eyes as he stood up and looked around, surveying the area to find the source of the random voice we just heard from the distance was alarming, and they frightened me.

I was disconcerted, I just made out with this man, and how was now compared to what he looked like underneath me was a contrasting difference. His sharp eyes were terrifying, one look will have you submitting to his control.

I paled. I had almost forgotten was dangerous this man actually was - that I was his prey to consume, and he was determined to play with his food before he devoured it.

He pulled me in front of him, pushing me lightly as he guided me to walk until he reached a dark corner that would hide us from anyone. It's not the best hiding spot, but it was the fastest we could find.

But wait a minute, why were we hiding?

It was as if he knew what I was thinking and he covered my mouth with his hand before I could muster up a scream.

"Do not," he warned. "Nobody goes in this area unless they're looking for something," he paused, tensing up behind me. "Or someone."

My eyes widened when it clicked. He was right, this area was a well known spot for mob deals and other shady businesses. It was an unspoken secret that everyone knew, but chose not to comment on. An infamous eight-membered group ruled this area frequently, and while they never deemed terror, their name alone sparked chills on everyone.

Footsteps got closer and closer until there were two people who stood on the spot where me and Min were sitting down. I froze, they were mobsters - the black suits gave it away.

"I could have sworn I heard something in this area," a man with a shorter stature murmured, looking around in the darkness with a stony face.

"'Have' is the keyword," the other taller man with the most intimidating face mocked. "I'm going to kill him when I find him."

"Relax, Seonghwa. Don't get your panties in a twist."

The taller one, Seonghwa, glared hard at his companion. "And I'm going to kill you with him, Hongjoong, if you don't shut your face."

My captor scoffed lightly behind me, his breath fanning my ear. I elbowed him to shut up, and his jerk reaction was to tighten his hold on me. I wanted to scream, I didn't even notice his arms around me.

I felt him lift my hair up and move it to the side to expose my neck. I dug my nails on his arms at the pleasure he gave my sweet spots.

"You smell so good," he whispered sensually, sucking on my neck. I stifled a moan when he bit hard. "I want to hear you so bad," he groaned.

While the two mobsters bickered back and forth, there was me and Min hiding in a dark corner, hoping to not be seen, yet he's making it utterly difficult.

I staggered backwards, my mind swirling with nothing but bliss, my breaths shallow and heavy. His hands slowly trekked upwards..

"Wait no, please, we can't do this here," I pleaded, quickly stopping his hand from fondling my tits.

"We sure can," he pushed my hand away forcefully, but I used my other hand to scratch him. 

His body stiffened. "That wasn't very nice of you," he jeered. I gulped.

My paranoia triggered when his other hand wrapped around my throat, choking the words out of me. Whatever false sense of hope I had that he wouldn't hurt me when out the window.

"You've been testing me, little doll, and quite frankly?" He was indifferent, his voice not betraying his emotions. "I am getting sick and tired of it."

"Please," I whimpered when he squeezed the sides of my neck. "It doesn't feel good..."

He chuckled, something sinister lay brewing underneath. "But it does, don't lie to me."

I clawed his hand repeatedly, but he wasn't budging. "You said you wouldn't force me to do what I didn't want," I cried quietly.

"I know," he agreed. "But your eyes are telling me otherwise."

He pulled on the rope, forcing my wrists down permanently, as he went and did whatever his desires told him to do.

"Are you gonna be good if I let your neck go?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice. I nodded apprehensively. "That's a good girl."

He unbuttoned my blouse just enough for my bra to get exposed, and I had to suppress a moan when cold air hit my skin, but not for long as Min's hand hastily pushed my bra down to fully expose my average sized tits.

Soft groans escaped him as he roughly fondled them in his hands and I couldn't help my own groans. "Hush," he kissed my neck. "You don't want them to hear you."

He put his fingers at my open mouth and I used them to plug the sounds of pleasure threatening to spill out of me. God, his rough hands felt too good against my skin.

His mouth was on mine again as he held my stiff nipples with his nimble fingers. It sent jolts of desire all over my body.

"Do you feel good?" he murmured in between the kisses. When I ignored him, he bit my lower lip. "Answer me, love."

"Mhhm," I hummed, and he seemed to let that go for now.

I gasped when he squeezed them hard, the overstimulation of him alternating between rough and tender almost made me want to come undone. All I could do was mewl as he toyed with my body.

"I'll go to the other corner, Joong. Keep looking there," I heard Seonghwa mutter before his footsteps receded. I almost forgot they were still here.

"Doesn't the thrill feel good?" Min smirked, attacking my neck again and leaving pretty bruises on them.

"For you," I sighed. "You're the only one enjoying it. Seriously, how can you do this? How can you take advantage of me while we're supposed to be hiding from the mafia?"

"Ever so sarcastic, my pretty princess," he snorted.

While one hand massaged my tits, the other went south - going lower, lower, and lower until I felt him stop at the hem of my pants. My heart rate picked up.

"You're going to enjoy it too," he said softly. "I'm going to touch you, okay? I want to feel you, I need it so bad..."

The desperation in his voice caught me off guard, it shamefully made my pussy clench onto nothing as wetness covered it entirely.

"A-And if I say no?" I stuttered.

"I will push you out and give you to those two turds out there."

My blood ran cold. "You wouldn't," I gasped. He wouldn't let two mobsters who can kill me take me, right?

"My queen," he whispered, possessively pulling me closer in the tight space we were hiding in. "Remember this, I have never, and never will, given you opportunities where there was no way out of them."

I gulped. He was right, and I hated him for it, but that's what made him manipulative - he would give me these options that he carefully crafted and no matter what I chose, it will always end up with him getting what he wanted one way or another.

These options weren't for me to feel safe; he was merely giving me a chance to do things the easy way or the hard way, but either way, they were still his way.

"You were doomed the moment I laid my eyes on you," he stated darkly. "Oh, my sweet little peach..."

I closed my eyes tightly as he worked his way inside my pants, cupping the throbbing heat of my core. He nudged my legs apart with his foot, but I wasn't giving up.

"I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" he exhaled a sharp breath. "Relax, love, I'm going to make you feel good, I promise."

"I'm scared," I whimpered with raw honesty. Danger was still looming around us with Hongjoong and Seonghwa lingering around the area.

He didn't reply, instead he brushed his plump lips all over my neck and my now exposed shoulders. I couldn't help the tiny moans coming out of me as he worshiped my body gently. I suppose it worked, it calmed me down.

I heard his sharp intake of breath followed by a throaty moan when I leaned my head back against his shoulder so he could have access to my neck. "Stay like this," he groaned.

"Please," I choked when his fingers pushed my underwear apart and gently rubbed my slit up and down.

He grunted deeply, hungrily. "This is for me, yes?"

I whined at the absence of his touch when he pulled his fingers out and quickly reddened at the sight of his fingers coated with my juices within seconds of touching me.

It was obscene and it shouldn't have been so arousing, the wet sounds coming from my pussy when he parted my lips with his fingers again, but this time, he went straight into my clit, rubbing delicious circles on it.

My moans were borderline pornographic when he finally inserted a finger inside me and stars blinded my vision for a bit when he pinched my nipple at the same time. He slid his fingers in and out with a fastening pace, the wet sounds of it echoing all over the corner we were in.

"Shit, baby, your cunt feels so good, oh God," his deep moans kept hitting my ear and he smirked when I became impossibly wetter. "Say you want more, Y/N."

I whimpered in protest when his fingers stopped all of a sudden. "Fucking say it, then. Say you want more," he demanded with a furious growl.

"I want more!" I cried, tears falling from my eyes. "Please, Min, just please, I-I want more---ah!"

He roughly drove two fingers back in me and I could have exploded when he licked my tears. His long fingers were deep inside me, curling them as he searched for that particular spot. I bit his arm to avoid being too loud when he found it.

This angle had my swollen clit directly on his thumb and he applied pressure just enough until I started tightening on his fingers.

"We're leaving, there's nothing in here."

I'm not sure if that was Hongjoong or Seonghwa at this point, but I didn't care to know, I didn't realize how weird it was that they were announcing it at this time, not when Min had finally let loose when he practically dragged me out of our hiding spot.

He hastily took his cardigan off, set it down on the floor, and pushed me down on it so I could lay down on the floor. I yelped when he roughly shoved my pants down, leaving me completely exposed to him as he loomed on top of me.

And just like that, his fingers were back inside me again, sliding them in and out of me. The way his face looked in this light, I will never forget it. He looked more fucked out than me and he was the one getting me off.

"I-I think I'm, uhm," I moaned when his fingers down there got rougher, faster, harder and he just stared at me with lust-filled eyes as he finger fucked me.

"Tell me what you want, Y/N," he groaned. 

I feel my orgasm approaching me fast and hard like an oncoming train. He finger fucks me even faster than before as he took in my pleasure filled face.

"I'm so c-close," I moaned loudly. "M-Min, oh shit, Min---"

"Mingi," he grunted, his eyes never leaving mine. "My name is Mingi."

He leans over to kiss me quickly before leaning up again. "I want my name on your lips when you come, okay?"

"Mingi!"

With that, I let go. Wave after wave of pleasure plummet my body and I scream his name, his real name. He was moaning with me and I saw him resisting to close his eyes so he can watch me come until I was exhausted and shaking, until he couldn't. 

"Say my name," he growled, leaning down and burying his head on my neck as he slowed his fingers down. "Say my fucking name."

My throat was hoarse by the time I was done wailing his name. I was out of it for a while, Min - Mingi - kept giving me tiny little kisses here and there wherever his lips touched. He shushed me as he let go for a while, pulling out and sucking the fingers he used to make me come.

I watched him put my underwear and pants back on as if he didn't just give me the most mind blowing orgasm. When the ecstasy subsided and died down, I wept. 

"You're okay," he would keep assuring, lifting me from the ground and embracing me in his hard chest. "Shh, don't cry. You did so well for me..."

He buried my face on his shoulders as he embraced me, patting my back soothingly as I let my tears fall from the overwhelming feeling my body felt.

I am so ashamed of myself. This was wrong. I wasn't supposed to want my captor, the one who kept blackmailing me. I felt immense guilt and distraught. The pleasure I felt was so good, but it made me feel so dirty.

"I am no different than a harlot," I sniffled against his skin.

He sighed deeply. "You're not."

We stayed like that for a while - me just letting my feelings pass and him patiently waiting for me to finish. He would whisper comforting words as he gave me pecks here and there, wiping my tears away. It felt so wrong.

"So," I cleared my throat, pulling away from him and sitting beside him instead. "Song Mingi, huh?"

He nodded. "How do I know you're not lying?" I questioned, the doubt clear on my face.

Mingi looked a little offended. "My queen," he spoke. "I may have tweaked our deals a little bit, but I never lied to you once."

I hate how right he was. "Stop calling me that," I murmured. "It feels a little intimate. Why do you keep calling me that?"

Mingi smirked at me, taking my wrists in his hand and working on the knots. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

My eyes widened. "No," I rejected. "No more deals, please."

He laughed that deep and attractive laugh of his, concentrating on untying the rope, tugging on it repeatedly, until it became loose, and he guided my hands until I was completely free. I breathe a sigh of relief, pulling my hands to myself and stretching them over and over to make them mobile again.

"What's the catch?" I frowned. He wouldn't just do this for free.

"God, I love how perceptive you are," Mingi remarked flirtatiously. "But no, nothing. I just want to get you cleaned up."

He juts his finger in a random direction. "I have my car outside, we can clean you up there. I have water too. Then you can go."

I was at a loss for words. "Really?"

"Really," Mingi confirmed.

When I gave him the 'go' signal, Mingi proceeded to carry me in his arms, swooping me in one go, and he carried me like a blushing bride. I wasn't a bride, but I was blushing. I knew he was strong, but this was crazy strong. I wasn't the lightest person out there.

I didn't even protest when he started walking out of there, I was too tired to argue, and I saw his eyes twinkle when I leaned my head on his chest as he walked.

"You were never going to ride the train in the first place, weren't you?" I whispered all of a sudden. He had a car outside of a subway station.

Mingi raised a brow as he looked down on me. "No."

"And those two mobsters, the mafia, they were looking for you."

He was smirking this time. "Yes."

"You were going to escape from them, weren't you?"

"Sure."

"What do you owe them?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that, my queen."

"Please?"

Mingi pauses, staring at me. Then he sighs and relents. "Money."

"Is that what was in your backpack?"

"Do you actually want to get fucked? You're still very sentient, babydoll. Maybe my dick will shut you up---"

"You forgot your glasses inside!" I blurted out, my voice raising by one pitch in embarrassment. I felt my face heating up with his straightforwardness.

Mingi gives me a confused, incredulous look before he opens the door to his car and sets me down comfortably on the plush seats. "I never needed them," he cryptically said.

"Nice ride," I murmured, taking in the luxurious interior and the modern technology attached to it.

He hummed in response, handing me a bottle of water to which I drank greedily. It could have been poisoned, but at the moment, it was the least of my concerns. He lowered the windows so I could also use the water to rinse my face and hands.

"What now?" I questioned.

Mingi gave me a small smile. "You can do whatever you want, go home if you will."

"You sure?" I blurted out before realizing how stupid that was.

He laughed, realizing it as well. "I'm sure, Y/N."

It felt surreal at the moment. It was as if what happened between us was just a figment of my imagination, and it made me even more anxious. It was a little too easy.

"How am I gonna get home at this time," I sighed to myself rather than question it. It was well after midnight and the buses were all gone at this point and I didn't have enough money to get a cab. 

"You know how to drive?" he lazily asked, looking at the distance out into the empty city.

"Yeah, I do," I replied, not sure where he was going with this.

Mingi nodded, tossing me the keys, and I caught it in surprise. "She's all yours," he said.

My eyes widened. "W-What?"

"The car, Y/N, it's yours now," he chuckled. "Drive home, and take care of her for me, yes? She was my favourite."

"Hold the hell on, Mingi," I blabbered. "Are you high right now? You can't just say things like that!"

"Think of it as a gift," he shrugged. 

I stared at him in confusion when he got out and walked around the car, knocking on the passenger window where I was. I quickly crawled to the driver's seat and pressed the window open.

"H-How about you? How will you go home?" I stammered, genuinely concerned. "I'm just borrowing your car, right?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "No. Don't worry, I have more where that came from."

"You used the money you stole from the mafia?"

His eyes widened a bit before he burst out laughing. "More or less," he snorted. "But seriously, do you not like it?"

I scoffed. "Of course I do, this is a Bugatti, for fuck's sake!" 

"Ah," he dismissed. "It's a Centodieci, it's not that much." 

Damn right, I thought. I suppose I deserve this after all the crap and assault he subjected me to, but still, it felt wrong.

When he saw me biting my lip, hesitating, Mingi chuckled, and he was about to answer, but headlights suddenly blinded both of us. "Well," he spoke, tapping the car twice. "My ride's here."

My heart lurched out of my chest. The way Mingi was looking at me, I can't stand it. He was looking at me like I was the brightest star in the universe and the best thing he could do was stare at it because he couldn't reach it. Mngi began walking away, straight to the other car, but I stopped him.

"Mingi, hold on," I called out. He paused from his steps, looking back at me expectantly. My words got stuck in my throat, and the only thing I could say was, "I'll see you around."

He chuckled, low and sinister, and I was thrown into a whiplash. "You don't want that, doll, trust me," he shook his head. "Don't tempt me right now."

"W-Why?"

He opened the door of the other car, leaning on it as he stared at me with a dark look in his eyes. "I'm giving you a chance to run," he professed.

Right. I forgot how manipulative he was. "So run, Y/N, run far, far away," he continued, a daunting smirk on his face, "Because you're mine if we meet again."

And with that, he got in the car and it drove away, leaving me to stare at it as it disappeared from my view.

What did that even mean?

I drove away, apprehensively I might add, to get home. It was a breeze, I hate that I am now very in love with it. I got extremely dizzy when I realized it was voice powered too. Out of curiosity, I asked how much this car cost.

Bugatti Centodieci, top of the line, costs $8.8 million dollars as of 2024...

I almost swerved off the lane when I heard it. Was Mingi crazy? I scoffed, laughing maniacally. 

Who was he? This can't be right. My insides quivered, no way it was this easy, surely there was a catch in between? He was cunning, what if him giving me the car was a part of his stupid games? I wouldn't put it past him.

And so, I drove home with an underlying guilt and heartbreak.

Mingi filled my thoughts all day and all night for the past month.

He was like a barnacle that didn't want to unstick from me and truth be told, it was getting extremely tiring. No matter what I did, I always saw him. I haven't been on any subway or train stations at all.

The worst part was that I didn't exactly know what this feeling was. At first, I thought it was fear - I was scared that he would come knocking on my door one day and claim me against my will, but no, nothing had happened.

I had so many questions left unanswered, questions that were giving me nothing but grievances, and in hindsight, a part of me wanted to see him again.

"Are you going to go have drinks with everyone tonight, Y/N?"

I paused from walking to turn around and found my co-worker, Wooyoung, at the restaurant where we both worked.

"I'm not too sure, Woo, I'm not really feeling well as of lately," I told him truthfully. This is Mingi's fault.

Wooyoung gives me a worried glance. "Everything okay, Y/N? Are you feeling sick?" he asked with a frown. 

I gave him a halfhearted grin. He was always very sweet and I loved that about him. "Don't worry Woo, I'm just going to go home and rest," I twirled my car keys between my fingers and Wooyoung eyes it.

His eyes comically widen. "Wow, Y/N, you drive a car like that?" he says excitedly. "You always rode the bus though..."

I raised a brow. Has he always been this observant? Before I can question it, he snaps his fingers happily. "Can I see it? My brothers don't want me to drive," he pouted.

"Sure," I laughed and I guided him in the parking lot. "I overheard you talking to the others and mentioning that you had seven brothers?"

Wooyoung laughed. "Ah, that. We're not blood related, but we've been together all our lives. Blood isn't always thicker than water..."

We continued talking until I pointed the car to him. I started to go towards it, but I halted when I heard Wooyoung's sharp intake of breath. His eyes were wide as he stared at the black Bugatti, and I was amused.

"Where did you get this?" he inquired, his tone firm, his eyes piercing.

I was taken aback with Wooyoung's shift of attitude. He walked confidently towards the car, lightly trailing his fingers on the hood. Long gone was the cheery boy I knew him for. 

"It's you," I heard him whisper.

My heart palpitated faster and faster when he walked towards me. "Stay here," was all he said when he walked away and called somebody.

I was so damn confused, what the hell was going on? Did Wooyoung know me outside of work? Oh God, I hope he didn't think I stole the car! I mean I get it, I earn shit in the restaurant as a server so I'd understand why he would think that.

Against my better judgment, I ran away from the parking lot into nowhere in particular. There was something dark looming over him in that odd conversation and I didn't want to be part of whatever that was.

As I was running hastily, I dropped the car keys. Cursing under my breath, I went back and tried to find where it dropped. I frowned when I realized where I was - in an isolated dark alley.

"Aha!" I exclaimed when I saw the keys and bent down to pick it up, but a foot stepped on it before I did.

I looked up to see three hooligans - tattoos, dank breath, yellowed eyes, you name it - grinning maliciously at me. I paled and it rendered me paralyzed.

"Well boys, looks like we got a jackpot right over here," the biggest man with the ugliest looking face grinned disgustingly. "You're the owner of that black baby in that parking lot!"

They all laughed rambunctiously to themselves. I was frightened, but I wanted to kick myself. Of course, the expensive car would've caught someone's eye sooner or later, but I didn't think it would be like this.

"P-Please," I whimpered, tears springing up my eyes. "I-I'll give it to you, you can have it, just don't hurt me..."

I gasped sharply when a skinny looking man grabbed me by my face and ogled. "You're hot," he leered. I almost threw up but I held it in. "Wanna play with us, doll? We'll give you a good time!

Tears started falling from my eyes. Mingi called me his doll, and it sounded heavenly from his lips. When they said it, I felt extremely insulted and violated.

"No, no, please!" I screamed when one of them held my arms and restrained me. "Stop!"

"Hold still!"

"No!" I bellowed. "I didn't get to where I am just to be manhandled by fuc---"

I choked, a stinging sensation on my right crippling me, the backhanded slap on my face was stronger than I thought and I hit the pavement below me. Was this the end? I groaned painfully when I felt myself being dragged on the ground. 

My tears were free falling as I felt hands grope me in places I didn't want them to, but I couldn't do anything, black spots danced on my vision, but I still yelled, hoping someone would hear me. 

"Stop it, please, take the car!" I shrieked, thrashing around, but that earned me another slap on the face.

"Damn, bitch, don't you ever shut up?" They laughed disgustingly. I cried out when I felt hands trying to lift my shirt up. "We're going to have so much fun---"

"What's going on here?"

The three hobos paused from their tracks, and froze when they saw the owner of the voice. I was in a haze, I probably had a concussion at this point. I could only hope that the new voice was here to help me...

I lay helplessly on the dirty ground and even though that felt terrible, at least I didn't feel their hands on me anymore, but I could still hear their conversation very well.

"B-Boss, greetings to you and your brothers," I heard them say as they bowed 90 degrees from where they stood.

In the distance, I saw three men standing straight, arms crossed in their chests except the one at the very front. I shrinked onto myself. They were the mafia.

They were Ateez, the 'A' symbol they wear on their suits was a dead giveaway. I panicked when I put two and two together. Were they going to hurt me too?

"Why are you imbeciles disturbing the peace?" a built man with the fiercest eyes I have ever seen sighed. He had this interesting reddish, pinkish hair.

"Wait," the other man with the deeper voice said. This one was handsome, his greenish, blackish hair suited him well. "You fuckers can't get it up so you terrorize a woman?"

"B-But, we know her," the three hoodlums lied. "We swear!"

A sudden panic attack tightens my chest and my breathing turns shallow. I'm so scared, and I am in pain right now. I groaned  and everybody turned to look at me, but my haze couldn't make out faces clearly, especially their expressions.

Green haired man smirked. "Yeah?" he pointed at me. "Doesn't seem like it."

"I should kill you sons of bitches here," the pink haired one snarled, grabbing the gun he had and pointing it straight.

"Please, brother, spare us!" they shouted over and over again. I panicked, whimpering my ears to soothe the oncoming migraine I felt. I panicked even more when I realized I had blood, probably from my fall.

"Shut the fuck up---"

"San."

My eyes fluttered open as the world around slowly started to fade. That voice...

"Put the gun down," the third and last person spoke - the presumed boss. His voice was deep, calming, yet it induced fear in me.

"Why?" pink hair, San, growled.

"I won't tell you twice."

I tried, I really did, my best to glance at the tall man with the most lulling voice, at least to my ears. He was familiar, I just know that he was, it was breaking my heart trying to remember somebody who I couldn't at the moment. 

I knew one thing - he was painfully beautiful, and the way he looked at me, it was like I was the brightest star in the universe, only this time, he can reach me and not just stare at me from afar.

He stepped forward, his strides powerful and domineering, and his eyes never leaving mine. There was something about him that felt different; he was dominant, compelling, and more dangerous than the other two.

"Step aside, maggots," he stated calmly, but so commanding.

"Boss, n-no offense," one brute interrupted, the one that slapped me to the pavement. "W-We really like t-this one, if you may--"

"Move."

"B-But---"

I saw the head mobster glance to his right. "Yeosang." 

Green hair, Yeosang, nodded once and proceeded to roughly shove the thugs, apparently also mafia henchmen, to the side, giving them little punches and kicks here and there. 

My head lolls and the muscles on my neck barely keep up with me. I can feel myself slowly slipping away. A shadow covers my view. He was so intimidating. He reaches his hand out, and I cower in response.

"No," I groggily shoved the head mafia's hand away from me. "Don't hurt me..."

He sighed, crouching down and sitting me down despite my protests. "Little dove, you know I would never," he whispered.

My heart started beating out of control as I stared at him closer. He was wearing this bluish suit along with a white dress shirt. Through my blurry vision, I can tell that he was the most attractive man I have ever seen in my life. I don't think anyone would come close...

I frowned. That train of thought. This wasn't the first time...

"Boss, my liege," I heard the ruffians speak. "Why are you forsaking us, your brothers, for some whore?"

I whimpered when I saw him take his sunglasses of, his eyes twitching, a glare of emotional coldness and complete disregard of anyone. It was terrifying.

"You dare call your queen a whore?"

That voice, that deep timbre, it brought a sense of relief to me. "Mingi?" I inhaled, shaking when it hit me.

His facade drops a bit, his eyes shining in relief, before it turns stone hard again. 

The world seemed to stop for a moment, and the world never stopped for somebody like me. I was too far gone to acknowledge the sharp gasps.

I felt myself being carried and I automatically leaned into his hard chest. I was supposed to be terrified, frightened, but I was not. Everything seemed right at the moment and even if my head didn't know, my heart did.

I've felt this way before. I've been carried like this before. I've been in his safe embrace, wrapped in his heady scent.

I felt him plant a small kiss on my forehead as he carried me out of the alleyway. "You're safe now," Mingi whispered. "Let's go home, okay?" 

I resisted, not wanting to go out just yet, but the tiredness and dizziness was catching up to me. As Mingi was about to completely walk out and go inside a car when we were stopped.

"Min, what do you want to do with them?" San asked. He then turned to me and bowed a bit. "Greetings, our queen."

I frowned, but that quickly turned into aghast when I watched Mingi hand Yeosang a handgun. "Beat the fuck out of them, Sannie, yeah?" he smirked sadistically.

He turned to Yeosang next with a smirk. "Then use that," he beamed darkly. "And use it well. Do not let me down, Yeo."

San and Yeosang look at each other, their eyes glazed with ruthless vigor. "With pleasure," Yeosang smirked. 

I kept going in and out of consciousness every twenty minutes or so. I was in the backseat of a car. 

And Mingi wasn't helping either. When I would try to shrug him off to just lay on my side to relax, he would possessively grab onto my waist and pull me to him.

"Stop it," I whined. "Thank you for saving me, but that doesn't give you the pass to touch me."

He hummed, not even bothering to respond. I wasn't in the mood for his bullshit today, so I shrug him off harder.

"Enough," he warned, a slight edge to his voice. "A month ago, you couldn't do it even if you tried." I hissed when he grasped my waist tighter. "It's like you never learned your lesson."

I blushed at the memory despite the haze. "Where are you taking me?" I cleared my throat pathetically. "My apartment is close to here."

Mingi stared at me before chuckling slowly. "Oh, you sweet, summer child..."

I shivered both in anticipation and fright. I can't be sarcastic with him like I did the last time I was with him. Song Mingi wasn't a regular person, I know that now. I have a sneaking suspicion who he was exactly, but the matter at hand wasn't that.

"Mingi, please, not now," I pleaded when he leaned towards me, stopping only a few inches from mine.

"You have forgotten what I told you before we parted ways," he murmured with a small smirk on his lips. "Surely, you didn't forget me that quick?"

"How could I forget you?" I glared. "You are the most insufferable person I have ever met." 

He smirked. "How could you forget?" I held my breath when he whispered softly. "When your cunt took my fingers so well?"

I inhaled a sharp breath when he gave my lips a small peck. "You're mine now," he whispered. "Don't you ever forget that."

I was about to retort something stupid, but I couldn't when I groaned in pain, clutching my head when a sudden headache stopped me.

"You're bleeding, my sweet pea," Mingi frowned, his fingers lightly touching the dried, caked blood on my forehead. He tutted. "That fuckface. Come here."

My cheeks reddened when Mingi lifted me and placed me on his lap. I instinctively wrapped my arms around him for support. "Jongho," he called, his deep, commanding voice booming all over the car with authority.

"Here," I heard a voice towards the front. I groaned when we hit a road bump.

"Careful, Jjong. Easy on the road," I heard Mingi sigh while he was rubbing my back in a slow manner. It was honestly soothing.

"Sorry," the driver, at least I assume him to be, apologized. "I've been driving for a while now, where to?"

There was a slight pause. "Doll?" Mingi whispered directly in my ear. "You're going to have to stay awake for us, okay?"

I buried my head on the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. "My head hurts," I whimpered. "They hurt me really bad..."

"Shh, I know, I know. Can you sleep?" he tenderly asked, his arms wrapping around me tighter. I nodded in response.

"That's a good girl," he said. "Yunho's, then. Think you can reach there in thirty, Jjong?"

"Of course," Jongho snorted. "But only if I get to stay and not clean up after Yeo and Sannie. They're brutes."

"Look at you telling me what to do," Mingi raised a brow when Jongho gave him a sheepish smile. "Fine. Wooyoung will do it."

""But I'm worried about her," Jongho glanced at me through the rear mirror. "She might get nauseous."

"I'm fine," I snapped, burying my head deeper into Mingi's neck. "Just fucking drive before my head splits in two. I'll apologize to you later."

I felt bad for cursing at him, given that this was the first time I've ever seen him. My first impression was the least of my concerns.

Both of them laughed for a couple of seconds. "I see you picked the right one," I heard Jongho chuckling at Mingi, his eyes glinting in amusement, but there was that same darkness that he held. "Hang tight, our queen."

Everything was such a blur afterwards, all I knew was that I wanted to rest and forget about everything. The moment my head hit the pillow, it was game over.

When I woke up, I found myself with the most agonizing headache. I clutched onto my head, it certainly felt like my skull was trying to get out of my head.

It took me a while to realize that I wasn't in my own room, rather, I was in the most luxurious room with the plushest king-sized bed, wrapped in the most velvety blanket and surrounded by the softest pillows.

Everything hit me at once - my overnight shift, almost being forced against my will, to being in Mingi's car. I was mad at myself for being so damn weak that I can't even fight back when the need arose. If Mingi and his group didn't come in time, I just know I'd be dead by now.

Or worse, sold off. That was absolutely worse than being dead.

"You're awake."

I looked around to find the source of the voice and there he was. At the foot of the bed, a tall man stood. He was taller than Mingi, and Mingi was damn tall, himself.

"Who are you?" I asked with a frown.

"The owner of this house," he beamed. "My name is Yunho, our queen. Jeong Yunho."

He rolled a cart with antiseptics and more medical stuff out to the side. "You're a doctor," I declared, touching my forehead to find it all cleaned and healed up.

He nodded. "Luckily you didn't need any stitches, just a couple of bandages. Mingi can help you replace them later."

My heart skipped a beat at the name. "Speaking of," I cleared my throat. "Where is he?"

He smiled widely at me. He seemed nice, definitely reminding me of a puppy. "Doing some...stuff."

"I know what he does," I said. "Of what you guys do, more or less."

"I'm sure you do," he chuckled. "Mingi is not a subtle person."

He crossed his arms as he walked closer to my side of the bed. "You're very interesting," he remarked with a smile. "I can see why he's drawn to you."

"What do you mean, Yunho?"

"Well, for one, you didn't freak out when you saw me. The usual response to a random stranger in your bedroom is not nonchalance."

I squinted my eyes at him. I shouldn't conclude my thoughts about these people from looks alone; no one is who they seem to be here.

"You're observant," I commented.

"Yes. He can observe his way out of this room, as well."

Yunho laughed and I scoffed loudly when we both turned around and saw Mingi leaning on the door with his arms crossed.

"No thank you, Mangi?" Yunho approached Mingi with his arms wide open.

"Get out," Mingi ordered.

"Oh, come on now, I just wanted to check up on our queen," Yunho teased.

"Get out," Mingi repeated, raising his voice a little.

"But I want to know how you guys met--"

"Get," Mngi gritted his teeth. "Out."

"Okay, okay, goddamn," Yunho raised his hands out in response and beelined the hell out of the room, but not before waving at me jokingly and laughing on the way out.

The atmosphere was so awkward, it filled the massive room with uncertainty. I couldn't even look Mingi in the eye, for fear of him doing something to me. I was at the mercy of his presence, and in his property. He can do whatever he wants and none would be the wiser.

"I must say, Y/N," he began to speak, making me jump a bit in surprise.  "Had I known that the next time I'd you see was being cornered by dead motherfuckers, I would have never let you go that night."

"Dead?" I squeaked.

Mingi smirked, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. "They will be soon."

He was at the very end of the room, but he was so unnerving. But by God, Mingi was the devil wrapped in an angel's grace. I didn't even recognize him at first.

He was wearing this tight, long-sleeved muscle fit shirt that emphasized just how bigger Mingi actually was. He had no glasses on, allowing me to see through his sharp and calculating eyes, and his dark hair was completely down, his bangs covered his entire forehead. 

It was such a contrast to the very first time I saw him, and to be completely honest, I wasn't sure which one was worse - him wearing a casual outfit with the same dangerous, murderous aura was deceiving.

"You," I gulped. "You are the devil."

He titled his head in a menacing angle. "How so?"

"You know exactly what I mean, you took me here without even asking for my consent, Mingi!"

He stayed silent, staring at me with the same indifference he always had. It irritated me, more so now I knew who he really was.

"You lead the mob, you own the people," I whispered, hugging a pillow for comfort. "God, it all makes sense. The conniving, manipulative, boorish attitude, the fear you instill on everyone who knew you, and how you found me point blank."

"I didn't," Mingi denied. "Wooyoung found you. He called me. He is a brother of mine."

"You lied to me," I growled. "You lied about everything, you bastard-- don't come any closer."

Mingi began walking towards me, but paused in the middle of the room when I told him to stop. "I asked if you were in the mob," I continued. "You said no. But not only that, hid the fact that you had power. All you ever did was lie."

Mingi narrowed his eyes on me, rage slowly building into them, then it was gone. His self-control had always been worth of applause. "I never lied to you," he said in annoyance. "Everything I told you has been the damn truth from the start, Y/N."

"I own the gang, Y/N. I am the mafia, so no, I am not the mob," Mingi hissed. "I gave you every opportunity to wiggle your way out, I never gave you opportunities--"

"Opportunities that you tailored to suit whatever you wanted?!" I interjected, my voice raising significantly. "As if I had any choice? You assaulted me, Mingi, you took advantage of any weakness I had and exploited it for your gain!"

He smirked, his true colours overtaking the gentleness he put on. "But I do, I do care for you," he remarked. "Your perceptiveness kills me, though. It's not my fault we crossed paths again."

"You were going to give me to the enemy when we were hiding at the station," I accused harshly. "Crossing paths wasn't the issue, you had no problem selling me out!"

"I wasn't going to," Mingi shook his head.

"You wanted to touch me, you were going to push me off to them--"

"Hongjoong and Seonghwa, you mean?" 

Mingi sighed, rubbing his temples with both of his hands. "Okay, fine, I might have lied to you with that one," he shrugged. "Joong is my best hunter, and Hwa is my right hand man."

Dread filled my body. Every opportunity that he gave me, even if he had pushed me to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, I would have never been in trouble. I would have ended up with Mingi, regardless.

"You snake," I seethed. "You manipulated me!"

"Remember," Mingi grinned sadistically. "I gave you the option to get away. Hongjoong would have let you go, he's always been soft, you see," he scoffed. "You chose to stay with me."

With that, tears fell from my eyes. Mingi's eyes softened at the sobs that wracked my body. He never lied, everything matched up, but his manipulations knew no bounds. Had I not been blinded by the temporary lust that made my body shake, I would have read between the lines.

"Seonghwa said he was going to kill you, how could I have known?" I hiccuped in between the sobs and tears.

I saw him reach out his hand to me, wanting to touch me, but hesitated when he saw how pitiful I looked. "Please don't cry, little dove," he whispered. "Will you calm down if I explain everything from the start?"

I looked up at him with my tear-stained eyes, nodding apprehensively. "Listen to me, my Y/N," he began. "I never lied to you, and I'm not lying when I say it hurts me to see you cry.

He walked towards the end of the bed and sat on it, far from me. "I was there for a deal with another mob, they screwed me over, so I stole their cash," he explained like it was no big deal. "The rope and the knife was theirs. It was for me."

I winced, the memory of Mingi tying me up making me cringe. "I'll spare you the details. I had to secure the place, why do you think the whole station was empty?"

I stared at him, and he stared back. That look again, I can't stand it. He was looking at me like I was the brightest star in the universe, but this time, I was slipping further and further away from him.

"I am a very thorough person, my pretty girl," he smiled at my blush.  "I could have sworn I blocked off every single entrance in there. So tell me, how the hell did you get in?"

My blush deepens, and I lower my head in embarrassment. "I-I saw there was a barricade," I stammered. "I, uhm, jumped over it. I was too tired to go the long way."

Mingi laughed, his deep voice reaching me in places I didn't know existed. "I see," he smirked.

How could I be so stupid? The deserted area should have been a massive sign that something was very wrong.

"The train that came after a little," he continued. "That was my getaway ride. Those two were probably pissed when I wasn't on it, especially Seonghwa."

I was mortified all of a sudden. I groaned and Mingi turned to look at me in amusement. Hongjoong and Seonghwa probably heard us going at it and doing vulgar things in a place where we weren't supposed  to be doing it.

"I didn't lie when I said I owed them money," he said, his tone soft and gentle. It was like we were in that train station all over again. It was moments like these when my heart would question itself and its validity.

"Yeah, you just conveniently forgot to mention that it was technically your money too," I mumbled in resentment.

"I got a little carried away with you and forgot to give it to them," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know how, you drive me crazy."

"That doesn't give you the excuse to shackle me with you and manipulate me to do your bidding," I glared fiercely at him, my voice breaking with every emotion I had.

"I know, my love, I know," he sighed deeply, shifting uncomfortably on the bed and turning his whole body to face me. 

I wasn't going to tell him that I never stopped thinking about him even after he left, and I wasn't going to tell him that he had won - even if I didn't want to, I felt something for him. But I was mad, and he doesn't deserve me.

There wasn't a day where I never blamed myself for feeling the way I did. I really was no different than a whore.

"I didn't think I'd see you again after that night," he admitted.

I was puzzled and confused. "What do you mean?" I frowned. "I was in fear of you, Mingi. Everyday I was paranoid that you changed your mind and would come knocking at my door to take me."

He chuckled lightly. "No, dollface. I didn't even know where you lived."

I stared at him apprehensively. "There was no tracking in the car?" The doubt was clear on my face. "Don't you mafia people do that? GPs everything that moved?"

"You would be correct, but no," he shook his head. "Not that one. That was my personal car. Not the mob boss' car, just regular Song Mingi. It's not connected to the business."

"You're lying," I objected, my chest tightening with how my heart beated.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Mingi sighed. "Call me whatever you want, a bastard, a son of a bitch, the devil incarnate. I may con my way and twist the truth, but Y/N, you should know by now that I am not a liar."

I swallowed the lump that blocked my throat from breathing in and out. "Not to you," Mingi confessed. "I care very deeply about you."

I couldn't help the shock that resonated onto my face and expression. "You really intended to give me that car?" I croaked. 

He nodded without hesitation. "Yes, love. Yes, I did."

Something in my chest exploded, all the emotions and how I felt threatening to bubble up within me. "I hate you," I whispered.

Mingi heard it though. "What?" he frowned.

I was very angry at this point. "Is this part of your games again, Song Mingi?" I spat, tossing the blankets away from my body.

"My love, please calm down," he pleaded.

"No!" I screeched, standing up and inching away from him and the bed. "I don't need your stupid car after you took advantage of me, you slimy little snake."

I began pulling my hair out in frustration. "You could have let me go," I cried out. "But instead, you didn't and you toyed with me and my body!"

"Y/N, stop it," he warned, standing up, himself, and trying to reach for me, but all it did was make me back away more.

"You think the car would absolve everything?" I seethed, making my way to the door, intending to leave. "You could have approached me like a normal person, I might have given you a chance to woo me--" 

I grabbed my arms and spun me around swiftly. "Mingi, let go--"

"You don't understand," Mingi hissed, his eyes had the mafia leader's anger in them, scaring me a little. "You don't get it all, Y/N."

"Mingi, please--"

"I had  every intention of letting you go that night," he snarled. "When I said I never thought I'd see you again, I meant it. I was really letting you go." 

"You asshole, I hate you!" I screamed in defiance.

Mingi scoffed. "Really?" he squinted his eyes at me and pulled me into him, embracing me. It effectively halted me, I wasn't expecting it.

"That car was yours," he whispered. "If you really detested me, you could have sold it and gotten rid of every trace of me."

"And have you kill me for doing so? I think not."

"I wouldn't have known. If it had GPS, I would have tracked it somewhere else."

I cursed under my breath. There was no fooling him. "I wish you sold it," he said. "You could have lived comfortably and I would have rested easy knowing you had enough money so you wouldn't work at night anymore."

I shivered when he tucked my hair behind my ears. "What if someone else got you first? What if they had worse intentions?"

"I want you," he continued when I didn't reply. "I wanted you for myself, to take you and do whatever I damn well pleased."

He tilted my chin gently, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "I wanted to fuck you that night. Hard. Fast. Rough."

That caught me off guard. My face heated up in response.

"But I couldn't," he sighed before I could fully internalize what he said. "I didn't want this life for you. There was too much danger around me..."

He touched my forehead before leaning in and giving the bandaged wound a peck. "I should have come sooner before they did this to you."

I realized that passion was often mistaken for aggression. Mingi had too much of both. "You didn't send Wooyoung to spy on me?" I asked.

Mingi shook his head. "Wooyoung working with you was a sheer coincidence."

"It's not too late, you can still let me go," I tried to convince him. "You can let me go, once and for all."

He shook his head, his hold on me tightening. "No," he flatly said. Desperation swam in his eyes. "I let you go once, and that month was my worst. You're mine now, you hear me?"

The way he looked at me, I was the brightest star in his universe, and he finally had caught up to me. Then Mingi let me go, his eyes darkening into something foreboding; something more sinister.

"Strip."

It took a moment for me to understand what he said, and when I did, my eyes widened. "W-What?"

His eyes never left mine. "You heard me," he said. "Take your clothes off."

I took a step back from him and Mingi's jaw hardened when he saw me. "What are you doing?" he clenched his teeth, his voice taut.

"Mingi, please," I pleaded.

"Please what?" he growled. "Take your fucking clothes off, Y/N. I'm going to fuck you."

My chest fell up and down with how rough my breathing became. Mingi's scowl deepened when he saw me not moving an inch. He proceeded to take his shirt off and throw it randomly somewhere.

I gulped, taking in his physique. I knew he was toned, but seeing him up close made my brain go haywire with want. My brows shot up as I stared at the tattoo I didn't know he had on his left chest. It was an 'A' in a circle - an anarchy symbol, or rather, the Ateez emblem.

"Are you going to hurt me?" I whimpered.

His eyes narrowed in irritation. "No. Come here," he ordered. He had a demanding presence. The suffocating domination he had on me was daunting, but I wasn't going to give in to him.

I stood frozen in my spot for a few more seconds before I backed up again. Mingi slowly crept up to me, he looked like a predator more than ever.  I backed up even faster until my back hit the wall. Panic surged through me when Mingi reached me.

He put his arms on either side of the wall, trapping me in. "Where are you going to go?" he sneered.

Before I could respond, Mingi ripped my nightgown off swiftly in the middle and lifted me easily in his arms, tossing me effortlessly on the bed. I screamed for dear life as he hovered over me.

"Song Mingi! What the fuck are you doing to her?!” I heard someone scream from outside the room.

"Fuck off!" Mingi roared angrily.

I trembled beneath him. He looked so much bigger than me when he was on top of me like this. I covered my bare breasts with my arms, but Mingi wasn't having it.

His eyes roamed hungrily over me. "No, babydoll," he smirked, grabbing my hands roughly and pinning them down on the bed. "You do not cover your tits around me, got it?"

I nodded as he devoured me with his eyes. I gasped when he leaned down and began sucking them. The stimulation was overwhelming - he would alternate between sucking and nipping my nipples gently.

"Mingi, please wait," I whimpered pathetically when he let go of one of my hands to fondle my tits.

I shook my head frantically and a choked cry was torn from my when  his other hand wrapped around my neck. He lifted his head up to glare at me.

"Stay still," he barked.

I felt his tongue lick my lips, trying to push them apart. I whined in reluctance, trying to turn my head away, but Mingi quickly let my neck go to the back of my head and tugged my hair roughly on his hands. I cried out and struggled when he bit my bottom lip.

I inhaled a deep breath sharply when he pulled away to stare at me as I shuddered. I tensed when he started leaning down again slowly. He let go of my hair to press a thumb on my jaw, smirking darkly as he forced my mouth open.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured. "Naked, shaking like a leaf, and all mine."

He ravaged my mouth once more, tugging on my hair a little bit. When I refused to cooperate, he murmured another warning against my mouth, this time with more threat. His tongue played with mine, and he groaned against me, and plunged his tongue deeper.

I felt my body trembling more, the wetness down there was becoming impossible to ignore at his touch, and I was aching for relief at this point.

Tears fell from my eyes at the roughness and tenderness he was making me feel, and I felt nothing but confusion. He wiped my tears away with his fingers.

"Don't cry," he whispered.

"C-Can we do this next time?" I begged.

His penetrating glare left me fumbling for words, and yet submissive to his touch, unsure if I should hate him for doing this, or liking it because it was him. 

I knew one thing, I felt undeniably safe with him.

"Darling, please, I'm not going to hurt you," Mingi pleaded when I began thrashing around, trying to get away from his criminal hold, by pushing his body towards me. "You want this just much as I do--"

"Fuck you," I spat on his face. Shock filled his face as he wiped the spit absentmindedly.

His eyes widened before mania and fury fueled his features. "Don't worry, I plan to."

I was expecting something rough and unrestrained, but no, Mingi kissed me softly, lovingly, and I couldn't help but kiss him back with equal emotions. His hands went everywhere - my hair, neck, stomach - until it reached its goal down there.

Panic surged through me and I tried to struggle, but he held my legs down with his and trapped me with his chest.

"Mingi," I wailed.

"Shut up," he hissed, ignoring my pleas.

Something about the way he said it made me extremely wet. It was such a dark arousal, too. Mingi groaned loudly, his fingers felt my damp pussy, rubbing and pressing on it. I bit my lips to stop the moans that were wanting to spill out of me.

"Baby," Mingi rumbled, pulling my bottom lip out of my mouth. "Do not, and I mean, do not hold back on me, yeah? I want to hear your pretty sounds..."

It's not like he gave me a choice, I let out a breathy moan when he slipped a finger in, pushing in deeper until he was knuckles deep. I unconsciously squeezed around his finger and that made him even crazier.

"Oh sweetheart," he choked out. "You are incredibly tight, my angel."

He started stroking in and out, sliding with ease and finger fucked me faster and rougher than he did when he were at the train station.  I moaned when he curled his fingers up and started rubbing that sweet spot.

"M-Mingi," I moaned erotically. "P-Please, slow down for m-me."

He kissed my neck, his lips nipping at the soft flesh there. "How?" he groaned against my skin. "Do you not hear that?"

The loud, squelching sound from my wet pussy as he drilled his finger relentlessly in me was driving me crazy. I gasped when his pace got faster, his palms were hitting my clit aggressively and I felt my orgasm slowly approaching me.

"No," Mingi growled. I whined in protest when he pulled out. He grabbed my jaws roughly. "You won't come, not until I say so," he snarled.

He stood and quickly got rid of his pants, his hands shaking with anticipation as removed the last piece of clothing he had - his boxers.

I stopped and watched him stroking his already hard cock, and he looked directly at me, his eyes hazed with lust and madness, his strokes going slower when I swallowed. He wasn't the biggest I've been with, but he was the thickest. 

The length of it was veiny, the head of it red with the need to be inside me. I gulped when I realized that he was going to be inside me.

"Look how hard you make me, precious," his eyes were lethal and ferocious. "I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore."

Before I could say anything, a startled cry left my lips when he mounted me, roughly pushing my thighs apart to let himself in for the invasion he was going to do.

"Mingi--oh!" I whined when he shoved his fingers back in my pussy and stroked in and out like the madman he was. I struggled repeatedly, thrashing my legs and kicking him as hard as I possibly could.

"Resistance is useless, stop it!" Mingi shouted, making me stop in my acts and stare at him dumbfounded.

He tiredly buried his head on the crook of my neck. "I will give you anything and everything you want and more," he whispered in distress and desperation. "Just please give in to me, baby, please ."

The way he was begging broke something in me. "It doesn't work like that," I sighed.

"Then don't hate me," was all he said before he pushed into me in one thrust of his hips, almost tearing me into two.

I choked out a loud moan as my nails dug into his back. "M-Mingi," I gasped in broken moans.

He stayed still inside me for what seemed like a lifetime, shushing me and whispering the gentlest of words into my ears as he gave me little kisses here and there.

I knew he was corrupting me, but the feel of him inside me sent stars in my vision. It was the corruption, the alternation, between him being rough and then into being the most affectionate man.

Mingi withdrew all of a sudden, then thrust deeply, both of us letting out pleasure filled moans that echoed all over the room.

"I'm going to have you now, okay?" he said.

Without waiting for my reply, he thrust into me hard, over and over and over again. I felt my body being filled delightfully, the sensation of Mingi's cock seemingly swallowing all the words I intended to hurl at him.

His thrusts quickened, each thrust making me cry out loud and moaning louder and louder, not caring if anybody heard me from outside.

"Oh, fuck, my love," Mingi groaned, looking me directly in the eyes as he hovered over me. "You feel so fucking good."

He leaned down to kiss me roughly. "You're all mine, okay? You're fucking mine."

It was the moment when I knew that I couldn't hold back anymore. No matter how hard I tried to deny it, maybe I was his, after all. It was fucked up, but goddamn it, I wanted him.

"I'm all yours," I cried out. "Please, please fuck me--ngh!" 

He groaned at my sudden surrender to him, reaching down with one hand to rub my clit as he fast as he was fucking into me. He locked his lips into mine in a demanding kiss.

"Your pussy feels so fucking good," his deep voice bought out a different type of pleasure in me. "Wrap your legs around me, my love."

I obeyed him without questions, moaning his name out loud when he reached even deeper than before. He buried his face in my neck as he fucked faster, harder, and deeper.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"You want me to go harder, baby?"

"Yes! "Well, you better start begging."

“Please, Mingi, please…”

His cock filled my pussy harder until I felt the tip touch the end of my walls. In a moment of complete bliss, I grabbed his face and locked eyes with him. The surprise in his eyes made him buck his hips roughly. "Is my angel a slut, after all?" he smirked.

My body shuddered against him, and I felt a pleasure that intensified with the degrading name - slut.

"I love you," he whispered abruptly. 

The sincerity in his eyes made my chest tighten and explode. "Since when?" I croaked out.

"I don't know," he smiled through the pleasure he felt. "I just do."

It was a feeling I knew all too well, as I felt the same.

A surge of bravery passed through me, maybe it was all from the payback and I want to get even. "Prove it," I smirked.

"Oh, you're going to be the death of me," he growled.

I screamed his name over and over again as he fucked his desires into me, until a strangled groan from him made his thrusts more desperate and sloppier. 

His moans were getting higher and higher in pitch until he was nothing more than a whining, moaning mess. It turned me on to the highest degree.

"Come with me, love, please," he begged. "I need it..."

It was all I needed to hear, and there was no turning back. He broke an orgasm out of me, stripping me of any plans to defy him ever again.

His groans of pleasure matched his slowing thrusts and with a final plunge forward, hot cum filled began filling me. The little kisses he planted all over my face while whispering the dirtiest things with the most affectionate tone gave me the shivers.

He laid on top of me tiredly, and I was expecting him to stay like that because we were both tired and spent, but no. "Mingi?" I asked in confusion. 

I was confused, I whined when he pulled out, going down on me to stare at my swollen pussy. It was so embarrassing, him being so close and personal down there.

"W-What are you doing?" I moaned again when I felt his fingers push back his cum back inside me.

"Can't let all of this go to waste, yes?" he smirked before diving in.

I almost had another orgasm at the sight. I felt Mingi eat me out hurriedly, holding my legs so I don't shut them close. The slurping sounds were so obscene.

Suddenly, he stopped and got back on top of me with the cockiest smirk on his face. He leaned down, forcefully opened my mouth, then opened his.

"Mmph!" I groaned lewdly, wide-eyed, but suddenly wet all over again.

I felt something wet, sticky, go in my mouth when Mingi kissed me - cum. He had just sucked his own cum from my pussy, and spit it out in my mouth.

"That's a good girl," he smirked, wiping his mouth with his hands. "Take it all in for me..."

He leans back at me again and I expectedly open my mouth for him again.  His cum dribbled slowly from his mouth to mine and we both groaned at the erotic sight. "Swallow," he said.

I savoured his taste and swallowed, just like he wanted to. He bit his lips at my lewdness. "You did not just do that," I was bewildered.

"And what if I did?" Mingi smirked.

We lay next to each other, not saying a word, and just taking in what transpired between the two of us. I lay on Mingi's chest, tracing the tattoo on his chest.

"What's it for?" I asked absentmindedly.

"That, my love, is a brand that we wear to prove our loyalty," he replied patiently, rubbing my arms up and down. "Hongjoong drew it, himself."

"Does everyone have them?"

"Yes," he hummed. "Yunho has his on his chest too, Wooyoung and San both have theirs on their thighs. Hongjoong on his right wrist, Seonghwa on the left, Jongho on his arm, Yeosang on his back."

"I see," I replied lazily, laying back on his chest and just staying there. It wasn't awkward at all, I just felt relaxed with Mingi like this.

"You didn't reply to me earlier," Mingi's deep voice accused.

"With what?" I frowned, not even bothering to open my eyes.

"I told you I love you, I meant what I said," he sighed. "It wasn't a spur of the moment thing."

"But Mingi, this is only the second time we've seen each other, how can you love me?" I whispered, my tongue burning because I knew I was bullshitting myself with that.

"Don't be a hypocrite, precious," he chuckled. I huffed and he laughed. "You forget I'm the Don, I can see right through you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I rolled my eyes playfully, turning away from him.

He grabbed me gently and gave me a quick kiss. I blushed when he kissed my nose. "Admit it," he pressed.

"Admit what?"

"That you're slowly falling in love with me," he grinned. "Just like I am with you, my queen."

I cursed under my breath. "Why do you keep calling me that?" I frowned, trying to divert the topic.

"I'll take that as a yes," he laughed. "You mean 'my queen'? So you get used to it since I want you by my side when I rule."

"Bold of you to assume I'll agree," I murmured.

"I mean, we already fucked each other's brains out, I'm just saying--"

"Mingi!"

We laughed out loud, and we laughed even harder when all we heard from outside the door were: 

'Ha! Woo, you fucking owe me $50, I told you they'll make up!'

'Yeah, but the bet was if they make up before fucking, San!'

'I don't give a fuck. Hwa, you owe me too!'

'Me?! That was Yeosang!'

"Boss!"

I was startled when Mingi suddenly covered my whole naked body with the blanket protectively. Somebody just came through the door without knocking.

"Choi Jongho," Mingi seethed, shaking in anger. "It better be good or I swear I will shoot you on the spot."

"Ah," I heard our lovely driver fumble by the door. "Well, Hongjoong saw somebody steal the car in the garage."

Mingi sighed loudly. "Which one?"

"The white one."

"Well, did they break your legs first?"

"What?"

"I said," Mingi inhaled sharply. "Did they break your legs first?"

I stroked Mingi's thighs to calm him down. Though it turned me on to see him mad - sue me, he was hot - I liked Jongho and I don't want to see him dead yet.

"No," Jongho replied.

"So go and fucking chase it down, then!" Mingi howled. "Did you really have to go to me for that? Get the hell out of my room, out!"

"Hey, this is my house!" I heard Yunho shout from a distance.

"That I gave you!" Mingi screamed back.

I couldn't stop the laughter that erupted from my throat. I suppose it wouldn't be too bad trying to get along with everyone and see where this journey takes us. When Jongho shut the door, I peeked out from the blanket to find Mingi already staring at me.

"So," Mingi cleared his throat. "What now?"

I attempted to stifle a grin, but I failed. "Luckily for you, I like having power as well."

"Good," he beamed. I was in awe, where was the rugged and brusque man I met on the train station?

He bought out documents from the bedside table and began writing on it. "I just have to write your name in the official document so the enemy does not touch you," he explained when he saw me look at him curiously.

"They're eventually going to find out about you," he continued. "You have an English name, love?"

"Why?" I asked.

"For overseas," he shrugged. "Our operations extend out there, believe it or not."

I looked at him apprehensively. When Mingi saw me hesitate, he spoke up. "We'll take it one step at a time, okay?" he tenderly said. "I know this is a lot of change, but I promise you, nobody will hurt you. Hurting you will equate to hurting me as well. Any family I should know of?"

My heart swelled incredibly so. I was scared, terrified even, but I had a good feeling about him and everything that will come next.

"No," I smiled sadly. "I'm an orphan. And it's Rinoa."

He stopped in his tracks and looked up to meet my eyes. "You're very strong," he said with a small smile. "You have me and the boys now, no more worrying alone, okay? Put down your college information too, I'll pay for it from now on."

My eyes widened. "You don't have to," I whispered. "I've been managing on my own for years now."

"I know, love, but part of being mine is letting me take care of you. Let me take this burden off of your shoulders, okay?"

I wanted to tear up. I was confused, but felt very happy. "I hope you don't let me down," I whispered. " Or I'm going to beat you up," I grinned afterwards.

Mingi grinned back, kissing my hands tenderly. "I promise I'll give you everything and make you happy, and I'm sorry for all the stuff I put you through."

"No more lies?" I pointed out.

Mingi shook his head. "No more lies."

"So what's your English name too?"

Mingi chuckled. "I won't lie," he smirked. "But I never said I won't ask for some sort of payment."

I rolled my eyes and kissed him on the cheeks. His eyes widened in response. "That was fast," he laughed. "Look at you already wanting to know things about myself."

"Glad to know you're still the cocky man I met," I laughed. "Would've been weird if you just suddenly changed."

I looked at him expectantly with a cheeky smile. He laughed out loud before responding. "It's Stellan.”

"It suits you," I commented. 

We stared at each other, just taking in the other person. Little by little, we'll get to each other, and it starts right here, and right now. "Come here," he began

He lifted me up to put me on his lap so I could straddle him and pulled me towards him until our lips danced in a game of truce.

I fell into his rhythm naturally as his arms wrapped around me and held me lovingly. I had found my lover with Mingi, and I had fallen in love with him.

[teaandspite]

The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 1)

Context: For many years now, I have been collecting funny lines from Goodreads reviews to share with my coworkers. (I do collection development, reader's advisory, and weeding at a public library, so I read a LOT of reviews)

Are some of these, perhaps, rather mean? Yes, but they are also very funny, and come from a place of honest frustration. In the tradition of Bargepole threads and lists everywhere, names and titles have been censored.

"First, I want to say that I understand how hard it is to write a book and how amazing it is when it is actually published. Congrats to the author for that accomplishment. That said--"

"Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred."

"I found myself feeling really, really annoyed with the world that this book is allowed to exist. We live in a universe where the passenger pigeon is extinct but this book goes along merrily being read by unsuspecting lovers of words and ideas and stories? It just seems like too much, you know?"

"Don't do it. Don't spring the cash for the hardcover. Instead, eat an entire bag of Twizzlers, spend some money you don't have at a high-end department store, look up on Facebook the shady college boyfriend that made you cry, research the current value of your home or 401K and then read all about how the big hedge fund managers are faring during the economic crisis. You'll feel about the same stomach pain if you waste your time reading this book."

"This wretched novel begins with the mugging of an old lady and it appears I may be in the process of repeating that loathsome crime as [author] was 78 when she wrote it. It is not nice to put the boot into such a poor defenseless old creature lying there with only a damehood, a Booker Prize and a few million quid. It’s a nasty job but somebody has to do it."

"I think this is the way dead people would write, if they could."

"I am considering setting up SPABB: Society for the Protection of Accurate Book Blurb. This blurb appears to have been written by someone from the publishers who met [the author] the night before, got very drunk, lost his notes and then constructed something in a fug of hangover the next morning."

"I congratulate [the author] on the early half of his book, which was thoroughly fun and made me laugh and think. I congratulate [the author] on the second half of his book, for finishing it. It reads like that was difficult."

"…a woman whose taste in contemporary literature has roughly the same batting average as a pitcher in the National League."

"The author is a pompous windbag."

"Recommends it for: No one. Recommended to me by: A friend who apparently wished to cause me great suffering."

"Makes me wonder: is it possible to obtain similes at a volume discount?"

"The repeated phrases made me want to mail a thesaurus to the author."

"I'm disappointed in myself for finishing this book."

"if the author described [character's] eyes as "obsidian" one more time I was tempted to write her and ask if her thesaurus broke."

"They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would, if given infinite time, eventually produce the complete works of William Shakespeare. [This book], on the other hand, would probably take the average monkey just under two hours."

"I can't imagine what the author had to do to get this nadir of Western literature printed on innocent trees, but he does seem to know a LOT about being well-connected in New York."

"This book is so bad it is almost worth reading just to make you appreciate the other books you are reading."

"Reads like it was written by a brilliant author, the night before it was due."

"raises interesting questions, like: can a book be so bad as to constitute an act of terrorism"

"has this author ever spoken to a human woman"

"This acorn has fallen so far from the tree that it can’t even see the forest."

"I’m guessing they are touted as ‘beach reads’ because no one will care if they get dropped into the ocean."

"This book begins with all the energy of a hand vacuum near the end of its battery life, and the pace doesn't quicken much from there."

"At least everybody’s eyes stayed the same color this time around.”

Part 2

Part 3

[jennamoran]

A lot of people are rushing to storytelling in the aftermath of the assassination attempt. They make up conspiracy theories. They decide that the election is lost, or that people need to boldly struggle on lest it be lost.

But the lesson of the whole thing is that life isn't a story.

The dude owns a third of the Supreme Court. He leads one of two major political parties in this country. He thinks constantly about his own safety. He's surrounded by guys whose whole job is to protect him. But none of it could stop some guy with a gun from shooting at him, and coming kind of close?

He's not a god, he's just meat and hair and an internal perspective.

Apparently someone at the rally did die. Did get shot and die. Not even the shooter, just someone who was there. And the whole country is fretting about the old dude who got some blood on his face. Somebody died, but the story's apparently just ... not about them.

Conversely, there was this dangerous, dangerous politician; an insurrectionist, a monster, in an incredibly divisive and contentious time---and someone took a shot at them, just months before the election, and basically, nothing happened.

No dramatic movement towards the next act of the movie at all.

... but that's how it works, though. Life isn't a story.

Stories are how we organize what happened, after.

We're not in the after. Not really. Nothing's doomed, and nothing's safe either. Nobody's suffering is worth it. Go make someone's life better.

If you're all full of emotions because of a story in your head, I dunno, bake something for a friend. Feed your poor cat. Donate to a vetted Palestinian fundraiser. Visit your family. Lift someone up. Lift someone up.

Lift someone, somewhere up.

At least one person died at the rally. Ninety in Palestine. An old guy got a fuckbucket of trauma and some blood on his face.

Go make someone's life better.

[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Three

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.6K

Series Masterlist

She missed her alarm the next morning, but that was the consequences of staying up all night, texting.

When she woke up, she was a mess. Hair all over the place, imprint of her sleeve on her cheek, and very late for work.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She cried as she climbed out of bed. She raced into the bathroom and worked on fixing her hair as she cleaned her teeth. She attempted to throw her pyjamas into the hamper as she ran back into her bedroom.

It took her five minutes to get dressed, another three get her get jewellery in. She did her makeup as quickly as she could and ran out of the door, heading to her office.

At three minutes past nine, Y/N walked into her office. She could feel the eyes on her as she walked over to her cubicle and sat down.

Her phone vibrated against her desk. She picked it up and checked it. I've got dinner with that asshole and his dad tonight, Lando had texted her. No good morning, he was straight to it. She liked it like that.

Y/N logged into her work computer before she replied. You should put salt in their drinking glasses.

She didn't hear from Lando for the rest of the morning. She worked quietly, slowly, still tired from the night before.

At her lunch break she checked in her bag but, of course, her lunch wasn't there. No, in all of her rushing around, she'd left it at home. "Fuck," she hissed as she pulled her jacket over her shoulders, placed her bag on her back, and ran down to the nearest shop.

She had just twenty minutes to buy and eat her lunch. If it came to it, she could eat at her desk, but those whose cubicles joined to hers wouldn't be happy. She had no time to check her phone as she bought a meal deal from her local corner shop.

As soon as she was back at her desk, she pulled out her phone and checked her messages. A message appeared on her lock screen and she rushed to open it.

Salt is in the drinking glasses Will keep you posted

Both of the messages were from Lando. She smiled fondly as she typed out her response.

***

Lando's day job didn't often allow him a moment to text pretty girls. He was essentially the head of the Norris family, but he was also 'The Enforcer'. It was his job to go around to businesses that paid the family for protection and scare them into paying.

And, if they couldn't pay, it was Lando's job to deal with it. He loved it, loved watching the fear in people's eyes as he cracked his knuckles. There was always a point, usually when he pulled out his gun, where the fear left their eyes and they accepted their fate. It was rare that it had to get that far, but Lando had felt another mans blood on his face far too many times.

He was a monster, and he was proud.

This was where he was on his way to when he began texting Y/N that morning. He was pissed, he'd just found out he'd be hosting the dinner with the Sainz family and he wanted to kill something.

She'd given him a good suggestion, one that would start an all out war, though. Lando couldn't say that to her, not unless he wanted to scare her off.

So Lando took some time to think of his response. He climbed out of his car and walked into the small, family owned bakery. It was time for The Enforcer to do some enforcing.

He didn't come out of the bakery covered in blood. As soon as he had walked in all other customers had left and the Matriarch of the family had run to get Lando the money he was owed. She pleaded with him, said they needed the money to live, but Lando pocketed it and left. Not before leaving a pretty nasty 'warning' on the face of the baker, the father.

Lando climbed back into the car and pulled out his phone. He sent a response to Y/N and sat back in his seat, allowing himself to be driven home. His response was a lie. He wasn't going to attempt to put salt in Sainz's glass, not unless he wanted to die.

Before she could respond, Lando sent one more text. Come to the club tonight - i have a feeling i'm gonna need a drink

She agreed quickly, the text coming through as Lando left the car and walked up to his house. He walked quickly through the house, heading up towards the room where his father was currently laying, currently dying.

"Dad," he said as he sat in the chair beside his bed. Lando fished the money from the bakery from his pocket and presented it to his father. "Dunn's Bakery paid up," he said as his fathers frail hand reached for the money. "They shouldn't be late again."

His father counted through the money and handed it back. His lifted his hand to his mouth and coughed, his entire body moving with the force. "I have one last job for you before you take your sister to Spain," he said.

Lando sucked in his breath. He was dreading taking his sister to Spain, to marry Carlos Sainz Junior. If he was lucky, this job his father was going to give him would take weeks, would let him put off this trip to Spain.

"HC Publishing hasn't paid their rent yet," his father said. Lando nodded his head and stood up. He put the money back into his pocket and walked out of his fathers room.

***

The dinner with the Sainz family came and went. As soon they had left Lando went to his car. He sat there for a moment, looking up at the windows of his impressive house, looking at his sisters window as she closed the curtains and turned out the light.

Lando started the engine and drove away from the house. He headed towards the club, driving much faster than the speed limit. But Lando was a damned good driver, getting there in one piece.

As soon as he was parked out the back of the club, he texted Y/N to come and meet him. He made his way into the club, waving to the girl dancing and heading straight over to the bar. "Hey," he said to the bartender as she immediately poured him a whisky, never with ice. "There's gonna be a girl coming in here. If she looks lost, can you tell her to come to the back office? She knows where to go."

With that, Lando headed to his office. It was a mess, pillows from the couch on the floor and paperwork spread everyway. He put the whisky down and began clearing up the paperwork. Only some of it was meant for him, the rest for the manager to complete.

He tidied his liquor cabinet and put the cushions back into the couch. He sorted through his desk and made the office look more presentable.

Thirty minutes later the door to his office opened. "How did the salt go?"

Y/N strode into the office. She had her bag slung over her shoulder as she walked into the room and sat on the now presentable couch.

Lando stopped tidying and turned towards her. "You got here quick," he said, holding his whisky towards her. But she shook her head, frowning at just the smell. "I had to swap the glasses for clean ones," he said as he pulled open his liquor cabinet and poured her a weak gin and tonic. "My dad would have murdered me if I actually did it."

"Next time," Y/N said as she gratefully took gin from him. "Or you could put vodka in their glass instead of water," she proposed, head tipped towards him.

Lando laughed. "Do all of your plans involve putting something in someone's drink?"

"You're not ready for my other plans, Lan," she said, his tone teasing. Fuck, Lando hadn't been prepared for that. He almost choked on his whisky as she laughed at him. But the laughter stopped as she sipped her gin. "But how was it."

The smile dropped from Lando's face. He finished his whisky and placed the glass down onto his desk. "It was... okay at first. But then we got into business and then I was trying to do everything to keep my sister as protected as possible."

"Protected from what?" She asked as Lando joined her on the couch.

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I just want to make sure she's gonna be taken care of when she's married." She offered him her gin and he gratefully took it, having some before passing it back. "My dad is really sick," he said as soon as he swallowed the gin. "We're gonna lose him soon and I wanted to make sure she could come home for his funeral. If they don't let her I'm gonna fly where myself and get her," he said, cracking his knuckles.

Y/N took her gin from him. She stood and walked over to his liquor cabinet, putting a little more gin into her drink and handed it back to Lando. "Come on," she said. "We're getting you drunk."

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[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART ONE !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 5.7k.

content warnings :: mdni!! yandere!leon, yandere!ada, yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, noncon touching, drugging, kidnapping, ptsd, violence, explosions, weapons, death, mild sexual themes, sexual harassment (done by some random npc), car crash, hospitals, reader breaks their arm.

──── Rain.

It's the first thing you are able to scrutinize once you come out of your state of comatose. You listen to the tumultuous melody as the droplets batter against the roof of the car. Even with your eyes locked tight, you are able to figure out where you are just by the rumble of the car engine, jostling you around when the tires hit a crevice in the road. A fuzzy, knitted blanket is adorned around your body. Your headphones are set on top of your head, a playlist of your favorite songs playing on a low volume. The sounds come out distorted, somehow, as if the lyrics were tripping over themselves and the tunes were awkwardly dancing with one another. It's almost as if you had been drugged.

The right side of your face is squished against something, which you now perceive as somebody's neck. The surface pushes your headphones uncomfortably into the side of your head. In a fruitless attempt to take them off, you realize you are paralyzed from head to toe. An arm is draped around your shoulder, the other firmly around your legs which are draped among their lap. Whomever this stranger is, they are quite brawny as they tighten their thick arms around you. They press gentle kisses to your forehead, the stubble of their beard tickling your skin. A deep voice whispers sugary affirmations against your temple, but you are unable to dissect them through the warped music and white noise. Have I been kidnapped? Who the fuck is this person?

With what little strength you have left in your body, you are able to peel your eyes open just a crack. You find yourself in the middle of the backseat (the safest spot in the car, which was certainly done on purpose). You find the arms draped around you are tan, adorned in heaps of black hair. Casting your gaze forward, you look to the driver. You see a woman with short, dirty-blonde hair whose slender fingers grasp hold of the steering wheel. The identity of these two people remains unknown to you. Looking at the windows, the rain cascading down the glass prevents you from pinpointing any potential landmarks. The only thing you can do is slump against this stranger and let yourself be driven far, far away.

You rewind into the past to collect any memories that would help decipher the current events. All you are able to garner is a crisp October evening, where you snuggled beneath a blanket in the safe expanse of your bedroom. You remember wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and strolling into the kitchen, where you would then make yourself a hot cup of tea. This was your normal night routine, you recall in defeat. The last memory you had would be of no use, considering the large gap in your mind once you drank the first sip of tea. So, you rewind even further to see if anything abnormal had occurred during the day.

You remember how you had spent your morning journaling in the garden, analyzing the faces of other patients and doctors wandering through your memory. Nothing stuck out, however, so you abandoned your reminiscing of this past morning. You then think back to group therapy at noon, where others would express their traumas from Raccoon City six years prior. You would tell your own story of the agony you endured and how you met several people who had protected you with their lives. Leon Kennedy, Ada Wong, Jill Valentine, and Carlos Oliveira — four names you would never forget.

Then, you would express the grief you felt when you were told none of them had survived the night. You had never felt so alone after. But, fortunately, you were then taken under the wing of this sanctuary built just for survivors. You have stayed in their habitation since.

The faces of those listening to your story were people you have seen every day; none of their features matched the physicality of the people in this car. With that, you fast forward further into the afternoon to find anything that sticks out. The heightened security that seemed to be reserved for you made you furrow your brow. However, it was nothing explicit enough to explain your current circumstances. Several guards stood outside your room as you lost yourself in the book you checked out from the sanctuary's library. The headphones you wore blared your favorite music and tuned out any and all outside noise. Even the hushed noises straight from your kitchen.

The hours of the afternoon faded away while you read through your book. It wasn't until a friend had come to your door to remind you of your plans to go stargazing did you realize the sun had begun to set. As they left, you decided to brew yourself some tea before you would join the others outside. You remember sitting at your frail kitchen table, blanket adorning your shoulders like a cape as you watched the tea kettle on the stove. Silence pervades and you can't help letting your mind wander. It has been six full years since the incident in Raccoon City. Still, your brain always seems to saunter back to the memories of that night.

You think of Leon Kennedy that night. You remember those pale blue eyes, freckled innocence, puppy-soft hair; you remember how he had saved your life that night in Raccoon City. Working at the Mizoil Gas Station, sitting right on the outskirts of the city, you're bound to face your fair share of weird regulars. And Leon Kennedy, by far, was the weirdest. A week before the night that sent your life into a tornado, you had met the new rookie who just arrived in town. And for seven days, you would always spot that familiar green jeep outside your workplace. His relentless appearances made you worry he had a hole in his gas tank or something. However, his visits weren't to grab gas or a quick snack for the road, it was to awkwardly lean against the counter and pathetically try to win your heart.

"Oh, hey Y/N! Funny running into you here..." The twelve visits a day spoil his attempts at being suave. "Yeah. I work here, Leon." His name sounds like nectar on your tongue, to a point where he is on the verge of outright begging you to say it. Even once more.

You then think of how during your closing shift, a coworker had become something ghastly, something monstrous. It all just happened so fast. You think of how you shielded yourself in your cramped work locker, limbs jutting out against the uncomfortable metal walls. To this day, you can still feel the suffocating tightness in your chest from holding back your sobs. All while you helplessly listened to the horrific sounds of your coworkers and customers being torn apart. You're entirely shaken with trauma, but with your brain in survival mode, you know this was no time to rest. Who knows how many more of those things will arrive? Now was your only shot at escaping this hellhole. So, you begrudgingly peel open the locker door and carefully inspect your surroundings. You grab a six-pack of beer on the desk beside you and take one of the bottles out. It was your only available weapon against your zombified coworkers, after all.

Blood paints your sneakers red and cheap beer stains your uniform as you fight your way out of the station. The sight of the entrance feels like a light at the end of the tunnel. Your lungs tighten with exhaustion as you continue to run towards it. That is until a firm grasp on your wrist halts your intentions. Swinging the bottle towards the assailant, they block it with ease and disarm you. It wasn't until a stuttering, concerned voice gasps your name do you realize that you almost just stabbed Leon Kennedy in the face. But God, you never thought you would be so happy for the persistent neediness of this cop.

You don't even know what had overcome you, but the sight of something human fills you with so much relief, you engulf the man into a hug. It lasted a mere second, but it was more than enough to get Leon's heart thumping in his chest. Even in the face of death, a smile tugs at his lips with any crumb of affection he can extrapolate from you. Muttering an apology to him, Leon disregards it entirely and stares at you with that dumb, love-struck expression. Your drop-dead gorgeous self; your witty comebacks that have his ribs tough with laughter… You, of all people, initiated affection with him, you actually wanted to touch him!

The roar of something inhuman cuts Leon off, to where he then bends down and scoops you into his arms. Without a second to resist, Leon (who is far too elated for comfort) sprints through the door with you and books it to his jeep. You're too busy staring at the store in trepidation to stop Leon from opening the car door for you, placing you in the passenger seat, and fastening your seatbelt for you. Almost as if you were a child, incapable of using your own hands.

The car ride to the Raccoon Police Department is quiet. Other than a few hushed reassurances of comfort from Leon, a heavy silence sits between the two of you. It's so bewildering that the people you had spent every day with are all dead. Not even dead, but zombie-fied creatures groaning to tear your flesh asunder. Your brain drifts to one coworker, in particular. One who was a master at getting under your skin. Manipulating your time alone to ask you out to dinner for the umpteenth time while tracing his hands over your skin. You never agreed, but with every attempt to bring this problem to your manager, it was always swept under the rug. And at last, you would have to endure the eerie smile and roaming hands of this middle-aged creep.

But now, things are different. You think about how he is now dead and can never touch you again; you think of how sickeningly good it felt to drive the rear end of a half-shattered bottle into his skull. Looking at your hands, you find your palms caked with his blood. Leon takes notice of this, taking one hand off the wheel and using it to grasp your hand into his. Electricity tickles through him from the contact. "You didn't have a choice" he assures in that soft tone reserved for you, but he is wrong. You did have a choice, and in the end, you wanted to hurt him.

"I wanted to. I wanted to kill him." Your gaze is locked on your red hands as you confess; Leon's gaze is fixated on you. "I just couldn't put up with him anymore. I finally got to fucking get back at him for once, to take advantage of him while he was weak." You don't even notice the tears streaming down your emotionally-drained expression.

You especially don't notice the sheer affect your words have on Leon. Tense jaw, flared nostrils, chest rising up and down with short breaths. What the fuck did he do to you? What had he done to push you, the angel of Leon's life, to such violent measures? He imagines his disgusting hands, dirtying your heavenly form; he imagines your face scrunched up with dismay, tears brimming in your eyes. And it absolutely destroys him. His heavy stare remains locked on you, entirely oblivious to any outside sources. No zombies, no eight-foot-tall tyrants — all that mattered was the audacity this dead man had to put his hands on you. And god, it makes him red with rage.

"Leon- LEON-!!" You shout out to warn him before the jeep then collides into a car wreck. It is pure mayhem as you shield your head with your hands and prepare for your demise. Leon’s arm stretches out over you in a desperate attempt to protect you. How ironic that in the face of a zombie apocalypse, you would die because of someone's poor driving skills.

You reluctantly open your eyes; you're alive. With your ears ringing out and your vision fuzzy, you manage to wrestle your way out of the jeep that had been flipped upside down. A grunt escapes from your chest as you make contact with the pavement. Something wet trickles down your head and from your nose, which doesn't take much for you to perceive as blood. You are so disoriented, you entirely forget about the man who was driving you just moments before. So disoriented, in fact, you don't hear the weak whimpers of your name from Leon as he watches you stumble further and further and further away from him.

You think of Ada Wong that night. You remember the click of her heels, her expensive perfume, her manicured nails; you remember how she had saved your life that night in Raccoon City. Somehow in your bewildered state, you had found yourself in one of the holding cells of RPD. You had collapsed against a metal bench, catching sight of a blood-stained first aid kit just within reach. You then tend to your wounds with feeble efforts. Soon, your senses clear, to where horrifying screams of agony echo through the large expanse. An unseen force rattles the room, and chunks of wall soar through the air from the cell beside you. There's a pop! before a deafening silence settles in the room.

All that is left in the air is your rapid breathing, waiting for your inescapable demise to embrace you. But, there is simply nothing to greet you but you and your thoughts. The gentle tap of quiet footsteps fills the permeating quiet. A woman then enters your train of vision, dressed in a trench coat, sunglasses, and stiletto heels. She stops in her tracks upon seeing you, seemingly inspecting you from behind her eyewear. With a tilt of her head, the woman steps through the threshold of your cell, where you then bundle yourself in the corner of the room. And you are just so adorable how you cave into yourself, almost like a bunny. So frail and terrified; too damn cute.

The way she walks to you is as if she were on a catwalk. Your trauma-ridden body trembles in fear with every step she takes closer. When she is just within reach, you act on instinct and push her away from you, racing past her and out of the cell. She barely stumbles from your attempt at an attack, an amused chuckle vibrating from her chest. You get a good several steps away before you finally discover what had made such a booming noise before. A man lies dead on the ground in the locked cell beside yours with a punctured hole in the wall. His dry mouth is hung agape and his body sits lifeless. Both eyes have been popped out of their sockets, blood seeping down his face and to the ground below. The woman follows you in your footsteps as you stare in horror. She merely tuts at the sight, a sigh of disappointment filling the empty air. How in the world is she not as terrified as you are?

"Come with me." Her voice is feminine, oozing with sultry confidence. It's soothing to listen to.

"Why?" Meanwhile, your voice is nothing like hers. Your speech comes out shaky and quiet, adorned in the fear this woman was apparently immune to.

"Well, you wouldn't want to end up like Ben, would you?" Your silence serves as your unspoken agreement. "Come now." In addition to her poised nature, her voice is also flat with demanding dominance. You find yourself blindly following her as she struts away.

Accompanying this woman as she walks through the police department as if she were the headline of a fashion show, you soon make it to the grimy streets of the city. During that time, she had introduced herself to you as Ada Wong, a spy working to retrieve the G-Virus. Why is she telling you the whole truth about herself, she doesn't know. Why did she make you follow her when she knows she works better alone, she doesn't know, either. There's just something about the way you cower into her when a zombie growls and the way your eyes glimmer with gratitude when she annihilates the monsters in your path. It makes her feel worthy, for something other than violence or money. As if she were the big, bad wolf who had fallen for the helpless bunny rabbit.

Now standing at the end of the street before the sewer entrance, you stare below in apprehension for what you have now learned lies within. This whole time, all the secrets Umbrella have were hidden right beneath your nose. Or better yet, right beneath your feet. A tank truck lies on its side several feet away from you and behind it, a trail of fire travels closer and closer. The flames and oil mending together then causes an explosion to erupt. Before you even had a chance to process anything, you're in the air, where you land in a patch of grass with a loud crack. Permeating pain courses through your right arm. From the time you had broken your wrist in 5th grade from attempting to climb a tree, you can tell your arm has suffered the same fate.

A leather-gloved hand then places itself onto your cheek. You look to see Ada, now with no glasses, tousled hair, and her coat discolored from grass stains. A dandelion had managed to wrangle itself with one of the dark-colored strands on her head. Playfully, you pluck the dandelion from her hair and gift it to her. Then, you make some joking remark about how it's a "thanks for the save earlier" with a weak chuckle. Your hand touches hers and something flutters within Ada's stomach — something grand, something scary. Something... warm. It stuns her into silence and catches her entirely off guard.

Her gaze shifts to your lips. Despite how chapped and dry they are, your bottom lip seeping with blood after the tough fall, they couldn't look any more appetizing to Ada. The mere idea of pressing her lips to yours causes her to relentlessly fall further and further into this unfamiliar, twitter-pated oblivion. You are just so benevolent, softhearted, and so, so bright. Ada's head is so fogged up with all sorts of devoted insanity, she doesn't take notice of the mass of zombies treading closer. While Ada is crouching beside you, she is then tackled to the ground. A pandemonium of zombies roaring ensues, and you're attacked by the undead, as well. With a hard kick to the skull of your assailant, you're able to wrangle yourself out of their grip on your leg. You stand to your feet and search for Ada to no avail, the heaps of zombies restraining you from any clarity.

With that, you turn tail and slam open the doors of the closest shelter you could find: Gun Shop Kendo.

You think of Jill Valentine that night. You remember her calloused hands, her rough-edged attitude, her scent of gunpowder; you remember how she had saved your life that night in Raccoon City. When you enter the gun shop, you're met with a man and a woman, both disheveled with dirt and blood. They point their guns at you upon your rushed entrance and in response, you raise your hands to surrender. The pummeling on the doors then has you all racing to barricade the entrance, using abandoned shelves and boxes as impromptu defenses. With heavy panting and a hefty barrier, the three of you stand, exasperated, trying to catch your breath. You sink to the floor and hold your arm, flashes of agony pumping through the broken limb.

Despite the danger just outside and your arm overcome with pain, this is the best you'll get in your current state. Shelter and weapons. You'll just have to endure how the shop owner shoved the barrel of his gun in your face and how the cop beside him sees you as gum beneath her shoe. Jill treats you like she does everyone else: ice-cold and blunt. She doesn't say a word to you; she barely acknowledges your presence. For that, you assume she hates your guts. Considering the circumstances, however, you don't take it to heart. Instead, you thank the two for allowing you to stay in the shop while the storm of zombies outside dies down.

However, things are quite different on Jill's end. The simple way you exist — it stuns her. Throughout her entire life, this dull ache has resided in her chest. She feels nothing. She would try and garner any feeling whatsoever; she'd do something adrenaline-inducing to feel fear, she'd do something ignorant to feel guilt. She would do everything to fill this hollow void within her. But, her incessant efforts were all brought to no avail.

That is until you came along.

Even though you're just some helpless civilian with no other desires than temporary protection, something foreign pervades her brain. Jill has come to realize you are far more than just the pretty face on the surface (although the idea of others witnessing your beauty causes her stomach to churn). She then tends to your broken arm, acting as if her heart wasn't running a mile a minute from the close contact. Meanwhile, lust-driven fantasies that would make even a harlot blush muddle her brain. To have you beneath her, staring up at her like that. You can't expect her to not swoon at the mere thought of how you'd taste, how you'd sound, how you'd tremble from her touch. Her mouth waters at the mental image alone.

Without thinking, Jill leans in to kiss you, fully ready to take you here on the floor of this filthy gun shop. The cock of Kendo's gun brings her out of her haze. You, on the other hand, assume this woman views you as nothing but a burden despite the clear display of infatuation in front of you. She informs you with a flat tone how survivors would be taken to the subway station, where they would then be transported out of the city. You thank her again for her hospitality, but mostly out of culpability. With your arm now covered with swiftly-made bandages, you reach with the other for an abandoned gun. Now that you've accepted the assumption this woman doesn't want a thing to do with you, the only way you'll get out of Raccoon City is by yourself. However, she blocks your attempt with a gentle grasp of your wrist.

"No need." Her voice is rough, but beneath the facade, it is timid and fearful.

"Why not?"

"You have me. I won't let anything happen to you." You stare at her, completely flabbergasted at the sudden alter in attitude.

The journey to the subway station was a breeze, to say the least. With your new bodyguard there to obliterate any danger in your path, it was practically a stroll in the park. She tells you her name and you tell her yours. Y/N Valentine has kind of a ring to it, Jill thinks. But with only just a few blocks to cross, something large, something beastly, something entirely inhuman stops you in your tracks. Incredibly massive with its large teeth protruding from its mouth, it groans a deep "S.T.A.R.S" before it begins to stomp towards you. Terror submerges your senses and immobilizes you. A red laser points from the rocket launcher in its hands, the dot sitting right by your feet. Jill then grabs hold of your hand and tries to run off with you, but her futile attempts were too late. A rocket then strikes the pavement and its force sends the two of you into the air. Your bandaged arm lands first against the unforgiving ground, anguish permeating your entire body.

You think of Carlos Oliveira that night. You remember his gruff voice, his kind heart, his dirt-caked skin; you remember how he had saved your life that night in Raccoon City. The pain in your arm is so blinding, there is nothing else you can think about. Not Jill, not Ada, not Leon, not the myriad of monstrous creatures on your tail. The only thing that exists right now is the torturous misery coursing through you. You're writhing on the cold pavement as you cling to your arm, cries of distress and exhaustion trembling from your chest. God, when will this nightmare fucking end?

The gut-wrenching entrance you're in is broken when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You expect to find Jill and her stone-cold, yet concerned expression, only to turn over your shoulder and see a complete stranger. He has a head full of messy, dark hair, with loose strands shielding his face; a strong body, with his military vest filled with heavy weaponry. His expression, however, was the most memorable. God, he looks at you as if you've hung the moon. His appearance is unkempt and dirty, but still overwhelmed with cheesy rom-com levels of infatuation. Why is this stranger looking at you as if you were walking down the aisle on your wedding day? You don't know. Besides, there are far more important matters to concern yourself with.

The heavy slam of Jill's boots reverberates as she sprints over to you. She helps you to your feet, not without a quick glare at the man beside you that reads "don't you fucking touch them." Jill puts your intact arm around her and leads you into Moon's Donuts, all while the deafening sounds of gunfire and grisly roars echo from behind. You don't dare turn around; you couldn't bear to look at that abomination once more. The quiet hum of heavy rock welcomes you as you enter the deserted donut shop. You practically collapse into one of the booths, Jill following behind and sitting across from you. With an exhale of relief, you relax into the seat and hold your arm in an attempt for temporary comfort. The man from before enters shortly, as well, then barricades the entrance with ease.

Your bandages are now torn and peeling. In an effort to fix it yourself, that same agonizing pain satiates through your arm instead. You hiss in response, alerting the two others. The man leans down before you, introducing himself as Carlos Oliveira, then eagerly asking you to inform him of your name. You oblige and he visibly shivers when your skin makes contact with his, an expressed concoction of nerves and irrepressible obsession. Upon gingerly grasping hold of your arm, he uses medical equipment from the various pockets around his chest and tends to you. His touch is careful, delicate — as if you would drift away if he applied any pressure. With every whimper and groan of pain from you, shocks are sent straight to his heart. Carlos had just met you moments ago yet still, he can't fathom the idea of you in pain. He assumes it's merely empathy, but when he feels tears brim in his eyes at the sight of you suffering, he knows this isn't normal.

With Jill's hand on your shoulder, consoling you through the pain, Carlos finishes swiftly before reluctantly breaking physical contact with you. He then gives you his canteen bottle, allowing you some water after your exhausting efforts to survive. You down the water like you've been parched for years. In the process, you are entirely oblivious to the heavy breathing from Carlos, who is left stunned at the prospect of an indirect kiss. Your lips against his — he feels his cheeks heat up from the idea alone. He doesn't realize how totally deranged he looks in his lovesick hysteria before the sharp snap of Jill's fingers brings him back to reality. Her possessive stare, her physical affection with you. Carlos feels his world crumble at the revelation that falls: you belong to Jill. The partner of his dreams is sitting right in front of him, but at the same time, is entirely out of reach. And it shatters him.

With that being said, Carlos isn't always the most articulate with his attempts at garnering information, hence why he stuck to the guns. So, as Jill and Carlos guard you like feral dogs with a bone while you travel back to the subway, he lets his facade slip.

"So... Are you two-like... Are you guys-um? Like, together?" Smooth as silk, Carlos. Smooth as silk.

Jill rolls her eyes in response. Mostly due to how annoying she thought him to be, but especially due to the fact that you aren't actually hers. Meanwhile, you tilt your head in confusion like a lost puppy (and you miss the way they visibly melt from the sight). After another fit of relentless stammering from Carlos, Jill finally clears the air.

"No, we're not dating." It hurts her to say it, evident in the way she clenches her jaw in an attempt to suppress her protruding emotions. Meanwhile, Carlos is sent to cloud nine.

Despite the blood, death, and gore he had witnessed in a single night, he had never felt so elated in all his years alive. Jill scoffs at his thinly-veiled euphoria, before grasping your hand and treading forward. Through trial and error (and more zombies than you could count), the three of you finally make it back to the subway station. You could cry, it's almost over. However, you can't help but notice how Jill and Carlos are perceptibly devastated by the idea of letting you go.

You hug Jill. It was nothing intimate, merely a thanks for the help she had provided you. Still, her body goes rigid and her heart flourishes with every kind of emotion she has never felt before. Through all the revelations that have taken place in this hellhole of a night, none of it compared to the earth-shattering emotions you have given her. Fear, lust, jealousy, devotion — it's all so overwhelming and she loves it.

You hug Carlos next. Again, nothing intimate or ulterior about the act of affection. But just like Jill, his heart practically detonates from the close contact. If only you could see his love-struck face; his expression is practically straight out of a cartoon. Cupid's bow through his chest, bluebirds swarming around his head and all. When the friendly hug soon started to turn into a romantic embrace, you push yourself off of Carlos, excusing his actions as nothing short of post-traumatic nerves.

With that, you join the other civilians on the train. The subway doors close behind you as you look at the survivors around you. All of them are riddled with trauma, shaken and silently weeping from the sights they have witnessed. Despite the harrowing circumstances, you're alive. That is all that matters and you could not be more grateful. Sitting on an empty seat, an exhale of relief escapes your chest. The train whirs as it begins to move. You turn your shoulder and look through the filth-stained windows to find Jill and Carlos, eyes blown wide with emotion as they watch you leave them. They stand in the same place you had left them, gazing wistfully at the love of their life. Picking up speed, you are soon out of their sight and they are now without the one they love most. And the sheer affect it has on them is gut-wrenching.

Fortunately for you, the ride out of the city is plain sailing. And with no S.T.A.R.S. members on the train, there is no 8-foot-tall creature there to set everything ablaze. You have now become one of the very few people who can say they made it out of Raccoon City alive.

You think of Raccoon City the morning after and the consequences that came from surviving. You think about what Carlos had said to you in the midst of danger. "I'm not gonna die on you and leave you in a cold, cruel, Carlos-less world." Liar.

Upon escaping the city safely, you and the other survivors were sent to a local hospital. From thereon, you would spend the next several days there (and finally receive proper treatment for your broken arm). After several days of anxiously anticipating the well-being of your friends and the entirety of Raccoon City, a doctor you had never seen before enters your room in the dead of night. Introducing himself as Dr. Matt Gorkis, he then reveals the news of the missile strike sent to the city and how there were no other survivors. A wave of devastation and helplessness washes over you. Weeping softly, the doctor bluntly provides details of the matter.

He then informs you of a sanctuary being built just for survivors of the incident. There will be provided shelter, basic necessities, and all sorts of therapeutic activities that will help you during your healing journey. And with your job, your home, and all of your friends eradicated to dust, you know you have no other choice. With another month of being tested for infections and going through physical therapy, you are released from the hospital and sent away with the doctor. For the past six years, this sanctuary is what you have learned to call home.

The hissing of the tea kettle makes you jump, bringing an abrupt halt to your road trip down memory lane. And while you pour yourself a cup of tea, you realize that your memories will be of no use for your current circumstances. For now, you'll have to let yourself be lulled to sleep in the back of this stranger's vehicle, driven far away to god-knows-where. But, the embrace the person has on you is so warm, so inviting. Your body can’t help but succumb to the relaxation this stranger provides.

You just hope that when you wake up, whatever welcomes you isn't anything reminiscent of the nightmare you faced six years ago.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 ۫ you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ MY LOVE, MY DARLING

I'VE HUNGERED FOR YOUR TOUCH . . . ❞

not a single person had asked for this, but it has been all my brain has been able to think about. i hope u all can appreciate some breadcrumbs from the ramblings of my heart hehe.

[evilminji]

My ONGOING "SI-OC Ponderings that my Muse is haunting me with but I may never get around to write" Series!

Because, fuck it, might as well. Maybe it will inspire somebody?

Jedi Youngling! Staring down that double barrel Order 66! FUCK.

Now, see, they don't blame the Clones. They don't even blame the Jedi. Whole lot of "victims of circumstance and our Wrong Place Wrong Time environment" going on. But? Are they gonna lay down and take it? Fffffuck no!

They JUST got this body!

Also?

THESE ARE BABIES.

They, An ADULT, have a god damned MORAL OBLIGATION to save as many of this itty bitty alien babies as they can. They warn the adults, obviously. But they FULLY expect? And are unsurprised? When they DON'T LISTEN.

There is a Force Damned PRECEDENT for that. (May you finally rest in peace now, Master Sifo-Dyas.)

The younglings though? THEY didn't get to make a choice. THEY are innocents. And as the only ADULT with knowledge of what's to come? It's HER moral, ethical, and Force given obligation to PROTECT them until they can do so themselves.

As a Jedi... she has to PICK.

Try to save the adults? Those who willfully chose ignorance AND have the ability to defend themselves? To fight and flee under their own power? Or... save the younglings, the infants and babies. Those whose ignorance is that of the young and still learning? Who CAN NOT fight. Can Not run?

It's no choice at all. And if they truely understood? She can only hope they would command her to do EXACTLY as she is doing. Would demand no less. Consider it UNTHINKABLE to ever choose them.

She searches out the hidden passages. Practices lifting things instead of sword stances. She will need to carry so much. Move so quickly. She KNOWS where the attack will come from... Force willing, if she plans well? The Creches will be EMPTY by the time the soilders arrive.

But for that? She must steal. Redirect. Take things from where they should be. It is easier then it should be. First because no expects true mischief from a child, then? Because a war has begun.

Restriction Bolts of the Temple droids and a simple explanation is enough to gain their assistance. It's illogical not to have a plan, even if you never use it. And through them? "Liberated" data jewels. Already plumbed for all the information they're good for. High end, too.

Perfect.

She wipes them all. Fashion's a belt that, one day, Force willing she might wear as a necklace. Then sets to work coping EVERYTHING about the Jedi. When the temple is lost? Their history should not be.

So long as this string of jewels alone survives.

The Jedi are remembered. Luke with not have to start over from half memories and hearsay. They can learn from the past AND still have it. She puts diaries, prophecies, books the jedi wrote for fun. Various Force sects both past and still alive. Teaching methods. Anything. Everything.

A time capsule.

It HAS to be enough.

She fears it's not. Sneaks into the hall of retired Sabers. Sits. And opens her mind to them all. Please. Please! She knows. She's so, SO sorry. You were done. You EARNED your rest. She would not ask this if youngling were not on the line. If Illum might not become to dangerous to travel too.

....if she did not fear what would become of you, should you stay.

The Sith is coming. He WILL take the temple.

Will you come with me now?

Some do, some promise to die, and die VICIOUS. Swear to blow to deadly shrapnel in the hands of any who dare come for them. Others leave their casings. Willing to come, but not as they were. She apologizes for the indignity, as she stuffs them all in the hidden paths.

Honestly? They muse. They've seen worse. Remember that-? WE DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT. HE WAS TRYING HIS BEST, OKAY?!

And all throughout? One must wonder. What do the other younglings think? That OC is strange? Mad? To be ostracized? No, of course not. She is nice. Listens when they're upset. Does not judge or make every emotion a test. Hugs come readily and her mind FEELS older. Like the Creche Master.

And? If Master YODA can be short? Why not OC? She just lives with them. The other Knights and Master's don't listen to her because she Sees things. It scares them. They SAY they do. But children know the difference, don't they? Between what you promise you'll do... and what you'll ACTUALLY do?

But see, the Creche Master's? Increasingly distracted. Preparing the eldest of their charges for WAR ZONES. It's stressful. The fact that the youngers are quiet? SHOULD raise alarm bells. They KNOW better. But they are distracted.

The ones who DO notice? Are the orphan Padawan. The older initiates. People assigned to "help out".

There aren't enough mind healers. Not enough hands to help around the Creche. It was considered a good idea. Young children are full of uncomplicated Light! Yes, Yoda. They are. But as with Obi-Wan, so too with the Crechelings? Children are NOT here to mend the hurts of their elders. That is NOT their purpose.

They are exposing the youngers to Fear and Grief. Broken bonds and the echos of war. This is NOT good for young force sensitives.

Yet... are THEY not young Force Sensitives? Children too? OC knows they are. And it is a bitterness on her tounge. She does what she can. Because SHE is and adult. They notice too. How can they not? The other children turn to her, she guides them through their day. She gives "projects" and listens to concerns. Walks everyone through meditation.

......runs everyone through the Evacuation Plan? WHAT Evacuation Plan?

Oh.

It... it helps. Having something they are PART of. Doing TOGETHER. Something to combat the growing, creeping, darkness that is not violence and death. This? This is planning. Preparation. It... it feels like have some sense of control again, after everything has become senseless and OUT of control. Yet? It is not DARK. Not seeking to force control on others.

It is just... quietly stepping back.

One foot, then another. Calmly and with grief. Letting go, knowing you have tried, as you leave those who have made their choices to the fates they chose. Silently slipping out the door before the building begins to burn. Just as you warned them. Just as they refused to hear.

It's okay to grieve.

Even those who are still alive.

Of course, Shadows ARE supposed to notice unusual movements. Spies and Falling are a concern. Heeey, little youngling! How's things? Just swinging byyyy~☆ soft interrogation tactics~! Gonna admit to any of the Blatant Theft?

Yes, actually. Good you are here. Saves OC the trouble of trying to figure out who is and isn't a Shadow. Kinda convenient, Master Vos, that it's you. What's the fastest set of ships you could stash at the exit to this and THIS hidden path? By this date?

He's sorry, what?

You heard her.

Tiny youngling, unflinching, staring him down and asking for ships like that's a thing she has any right to do? Why? Well... that depends. Are you actually going to listen, Master Vos, or do you want an answer that will comfort you?

Excuse me.

Do you remember? Master Vos, the suffering of Sifo-Dyas? A temple full of Jedi, a seat upon it's council, yet not a single soul would hear him. Would truely listen. How many Knights? How many Masters? Tell me, Master Vos, exactly how many have DIED for willful ignorance and attachment to peaceful days?

There could not POSSIBLY be Sith. So we will not train or prepare. There can not POSSIBLY be a war, Sifo-Dyas, so be consumed by your fear alone. Die, alone. Let Padawan and peacekeepers be Generals. Because what the Force has shown you? It is happening today.

So we refuse to see it. Cling to the present, Master Vos.

Isn't it so COMFORTING here?

You don't have to know what might be. Don't have to ACT. Can be blind and choose ignorance.

A vision then? He surely concludes. For he is no fool. And the Youngling just looks tired. Eats their meal. Answer the question, Master Vos. Do you remember? Was Master Kenobi's suffering also ignored? How well did that work out. Will you LISTEN or have you already come to your conclusions, and now simply seek information to support them?

....he wants to. He does. But you're like, four.

OC nods. Fair. She can see the genuine conflict on his face. He HEARD her. But can not let go of what his eyes tell him. The Force is too muddled here. She too, would have a hard time trusting a small child with something so serious. But.... she can not change her path. And neither can he.

May the Force Be With You, Master Vos.

Plan Besh it is.

She is a small adorable child. The Coruscant gaurd are overworked and filled with spite. Who wants caff and bribery~? Do they clock her immediately? Yes. Is this hilarious. Also yes. Who did you kill, small child? We promise not to be mad.

No one, yet. Could change. She would prefere it not. But who knows. Anyway~☆! Do any of YOU caff loving (here have a refill) gentleman happen to know of any asshole Goverment Officals with REALLY fast ships that run primarily of droid piloting? With potentially easily disabled trackers? Not that she, a small child, would be DOING anything with this information!

It's just neat information to know! *innocent blinking of innocence*

Uh huh. And they were decanted yesterday.

That SAID.... they have a list. Oh noooo! They dropped the list! So much effort to pick it up. Hey, kid, could pick that up and definitely not steal it for us? Good baby Jedi. Thanks for the Caff. Tell Vos to stop haunting the lower levels. It's OUR job to hunt criminals for sport, not his.

Yes, sir o7

Of she goes? To the Senatorial Garage. It's mostly droids. Of LOOK! I have this handy little tool! Pop. Pop, pop, pop~! Hey? Wanna fuck over the asshole who doesn't appreciate you, steal this ship, AND save the lives of small children?

BOY WOULD THEY! Says local every droid in the Ship pool.

Great! Just figure out where the trackers are, how to turn them off, and when it's time? Meet a one of these locations for pick up. We're gonna NEED you. Like... actually NEED. Not "I'm throwing my money around on the latest and greatest then not USING THEM FOR ANYTHING" supposedly need. You'll have SO MUCH WORK.

(They're gonna cry in Binary. Omg? Fuckin FINALLY???)

And so... inevitably. The clock ticks down. The drama of adults ramps up. They smuggle a few clone troopers through surgery. Try to warn the others. Know it won't be enough. The momentum is too great. The gears of War will grind over everything.

Like a forest fire... the old has to burn away for new growth.

But like hell is she letting that come at the cost of tiny bodies. Clones trapped in their minds forced to fire upon children. There will be enough horrors this day. This can be on less. They WILL be ready. And... they are.

She sees the council running out. Knows what it means. And she does NOT hesitate. Her signal goes out. Her Padawan helpers dropping everything to BOLT for the Creche and the go bags stored there. They are followed by friends. Who do not understand, but trust them. Who's Master's do not understand, but assume this is some plan they were not told off.

It certainly seems so, when in the distance? They hear the temple gaurds fighting to hold the line. Hear blasterfire. They race down the hidden paths. Are met with droids, loading up food and medicine, leave as soon as each ship has the assigned numbers. Again and again. Senatorial chips mean instant pass into space. Important business, you understand.

The droids will follow, with everything. Including what was nailed down. Probably the nails too.

Might steal the hammers while they're at it.

Next stop? Wild Space.

Explorcorps newest finds. FRESHLY deleted. All points warning already being sent. A Fuck You Very MUCH, Sith-y Pants. You'll not be getting ANY of the Corps workers if THEY can help it. And hey... the Masters and a few knights were a pleasant suprise. Them and their squad of rescue troopers? Almost make enough adults to take care of everybody!

Now all they have to do? Is hide, rebuild, and regrow.

Return when Luke has down his Luke thing.

Who knows... not her. She made a plan and she DID it. Some one else can decide for a while. She's just a kid. Tell her when they get there, okay?

[sagesskies]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ

✒ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ᴡᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ɢᴏᴅ

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴏᴡ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ. ʜᴇ'ᴅ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ @hana-no-seiiki ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴘʀᴏᴠɪᴅᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ, ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜᴇʟ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴏɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴡᴀʀ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴛʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ, ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅᴀʀᴅ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ, ɢᴏᴅ ɪɴᴄᴇꜱᴛ (ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ Qʜᴇᴛᴏʜʀ), ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ. ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ!

Yandere Destruction Deity who, just like you and all your other siblings, was born from the remains of Kases: the strongest of the Great ones. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who even then, was already an outcast from the others in the (then yet to be formed) pantheon.

Instead of joining Uren in their rebellion, they chose to spend their time doing more fun activities. Like exploring the new world they've just been born into, interacting with all the strange yet fascinating creatures, fiddling with the inventions and gadgets crafted by the Great ones, all with you, the only one among their siblings who seemed to actually get them. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who spends days with you in the garden you’ve cultivated, laughing and bonding. Growing closer together.

You talk about many things; stars, Kases, your siblings, Uren, the rebellion. It was inevitable that your conversations would eventually go in that direction, they just wished it didn’t have to be so soon. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who immediately tries to convince you to back out of the war when you tell them you’re helping Uren. You can’t! You’re too weak, too soft.

They’ve seen the beasts the Great ones have at their beck and call, and not to mention the giants, the cyclopes, and all manner of creature they were going to sic on Kases’ children. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who begrudgingly approaches Uren, and tells you not long after that they’re going to join in this foolish endeavor. They can’t exactly leave you alone, you’ll need somebody to protect you after all.

Who cares if they themselves don’t know the first thing about fighting. All you have to do is swing some blade, right? Bah, it doesn’t matter! They’re going to keep you safe, nothing will ever even come close to harming you as long as they’re here.

Yandere Destruction Deity who soon finds that they’re rather good at this whole fighting thing, hell, they’re probably the best. Probably only second to Itia, but they were a brute who simply relied on sheer force to get what they wanted, however when it came to skill? To prowess? To the ability to wield a weapon like it was simply an extension of your own body? Nobody could beat Qhetohr in that aspect.

Yandere Destruction Deity who became an entity whose name was whispered only in the darkness illuminated by a campfire, between soldiers of the Great ones who dreaded meeting them on the battlefield, especially once they were able to harness the power of the literal void to their advantage.

They were reminded again of the overwhelming difference between the two of you when they learned that you had become a name that was spoken by hopeful prisoners who wished for you to arrive to grant them freedom, while they would solve problems with their blade, you were far more diplomatic in your approach. Convincing generals to side with Uren, and freeing the enslaved soldiers. 

Yandere Destruction Deity, who even amidst the rebellion, always makes time for you regardless of how busy they get with managing their own forces. They fuss over you, and grow red with fury whenever they see a new scar on what used to be a flawless landscape.

But all worries are washed away whenever you flash them a kind smile, and assure them that all is well; “This shall come to pass.” You remind them, and they must force themselves to accept it. Regardless of how they wish they could just shield you away from all this violence, they’re stronger now, they could protect you, you could both still run away from this. However you only shake your head and tell them you’re both in too deep now to quit.

Yandere Destruction Deity who runs up to you, swings you up, and spins you around, laughing all the while. The rebellion is over, and Uren won. The both of you can retire back to your garden! And spend the rest of eternity there, just you and them. Isn’t that amazing? It’s the best thing that came out of this stupid war. Forget the fact that all these enslaved races have been liberated, who cares really? All they can think about is how you’re now safe in their arms. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who isn’t all too pleased to learn that they’ve been appointed as Uren’s general for their exemplary performance during the war. What the hell? They didn’t sign up for this! They’re meant to spend their retirement with you, damn it. Yes, they enjoyed fighting, but not as much as being with you, duh. Stupid Uren! But after some convincing from you, they reluctantly accept this position. 

Yandere Destruction Deity decides that this isn’t too bad, really, not when they get to put down any possible threats to your safety. There’s a lot of people who’d like to get their filthy hands on you, you know? Especially since you played such a big part in Uren winning the war. Don’t worry, they’ll get rid of all these bugs for you. It’s no big deal for somebody with their power. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is confused when they learn of Uren’s new creation: Humans. What were these things sculpted in the gods’ own image? What were they meant to do? How long could they last in a fight? Safe to say, when their questions were answered, Qhetohr wasn’t too pleased. They don’t get what’s so great about them, when they’re basically just useless flesh sacks. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who still doesn’t get it when you explain to them that it’s because humans have so much boundless potential that they’re so exceptional, but they lie and promise you that they do. Even if they’re soft, squishy, and the least impressive of all of Uren’s creations, they’ll spare them. Especially since you’re so enamored with them.

Yandere Destruction Deity who gets restless when things finally become peaceful. They thought they’d be happy now that there’s less threats to you, but their body has gotten so used to fighting all the time that anything else feels strange. Any time they hold your hand, they have to remind themself to loosen their grip, and any time you come close to even hugging them they have to restrain themself from grabbing you by the collar and flipping you over then pinning you to the ground. Though… in retrospect it doesn’t sound that bad in the right context.

Yandere Destruction Deity who spreads whispers, inciting fear, paranoia, and destruction. Mortals, who had at that point established tight-knit communities, became wary of their neighbors, and it didn’t take long before conflict was starting to brew between them. Their words even affected Uren, who was growing suspicious of their own son, Ebris, the god of the Sun, who was more beloved by the pantheon than they were. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who encourages Uren as they descend into tyranny. Delighting at the feeling of warm blood staining their skin once more, as they cut off the heads of who Uren perceived as treasonous. Mortals, monsters, even some who were minor gods, none were safe from Qhetohr’s ‘punishing’ blade. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who feigns innocence when confronted by the other gods of their possible involvement in Uren’s change, a sly smirk on their face as they tell their siblings they don’t know what on earth they're talking about! They swear on Kases’ grave. But when it’s you who asks them if they really have no involvement, they falter at the fact that you’d think of them as the cause behind this, even if it’s true, their chest still clenches at the thought you could think of them like this. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who denies it, of course they would. But the look in your eyes tells them enough. They ask you if you’re going to tell the others, and they can’t help but smile when they see you visibly hesitate. You tell them you’ll keep it a secret, but you won’t dissuade the others from trying to discover the truth themselves. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who isn’t surprised when another rebellion emerges, this time led by Ebris. It was inevitable really. But what truly shocks them is when they learn that you’re joining Ebris’ faction. They knew you’d never side with Uren, not when everything they were doing now stood against you as the God of Mercy. But never did they think you’d betray them by joining forces with Ebris. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who never thought it’d be you forcing them to their knees in surrender, they’ve never seen this expression on your face. So cold, yet in your eyes they can see pity, and so much sorrow and regret. It was like you blame yourself for this six decade long mess. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who fully expects to receive the same fate as Uren, a beheading for all of the world to see, but is surprised when they see you speaking to Ebris in hushed tones. Your gaze flickers to them every so often as the conversation continues on. What are you doing? Are you actually- 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is stunned speechless when Ebris announces that instead of a beheading, they would instead have their powers restricted and be imprisoned.

Compared a beheading, this was an improvement. Or, at least it seemed like that to others. In reality death would have been better, so much better than years locked away unable to see you.

Twas the night before Qhetohr would be locked away, trapped in one of Ularus’ inventions. The thought of being imprisoned wasn’t what bothered them, but instead being apart from you for that long. 

They’ve been told tales by Nuyja, stories of husbands away at war, and of wives mourning the distance that had to be between them. It always sounded so dramatic, probably because it was, but right now they’re starting to feel like one of those wives. 

As the Ofriedian metal dug into their pale, marble skin that you always admired for its flawless texture, their dark eyes caught onto something past their bars. The familiar hem of a [f/c] robe. Their eyes widened, and their suspicions were only confirmed when they saw you walk out from wherever you were hiding. 

“[N-Name]?” They spoke in a whisper, like you were some animal that they’d scare away if they spoke too loudly, “Is that you?” They got up from where they sat on the cold, stone floors and approached the bars.

You pulled down the hood of your robe, “It’s me, Qhetohr.” Your voice was equally as gentle, but that was just how you always spoke. Instead of greeting him with your usual smile, your face was impassive and as impenetrable as stone. 

“Have you come to free me?” Qhetohr knew better than to hope, but they couldn’t help it. Ever since they’ve been imprisoned here while Ularus worked out the final kinks in their next cage, all they had for company was their mind.

And all their mind could do to stave off the madness that came with boredom was daydream of a life with you in seclusion, on some beautiful island where you could have a new garden and they would have enough room to take out their frustrations on the wildlife.

The disappointment that followed when you shook your head was immeasurable. 

“Oh…” 

You are silent in response, you were never one for speaking much. You always preferred to listen whenever you talked with Qhetohr, giving your wise input every now and then. They didn’t mind the silence before, but why did it bother them so much now? 

“Qhetohr,” Your voice was different as well, they noticed, colder than before, “Before you are imprisoned, I must know one thing.” 

Qhetohr placed a hand around one of the bars separating you two, “What is it then?” If only they didn’t have this chunky bracelet, perhaps they could’ve reached a hand through the bar and touched you. 

You took in a deep breath, and let out a shakier one. You licked the bottom of your lip, and then wrapped a hand around the same bar Qhetohr was gripping. You moved your face closer to them, and they tried not to gulp, “Do you regret what you’ve done?” 

At that, Qhetohr had no answer. 

You had the rare ability of being able to render Qhetohr speechless, cultivated from countless hours listening to them, observing them, and well honed through debates about topics such as the difference between the gods and the Great ones, the meaning of life, and whether or not the gods were all that different from mortals. 

It was the one of the many reasons you were the only god they had a truly functioning relationship with.

At their silence, your face contorts. Your brows furrow, your lips purse, and your [e/c] eyes fill with what can only be described as sorrow. They cannot bring themself to look at you, for they do not want you to see the shame that is starting to invade their heart. 

Your hand falls from the bar, and as it does it brushes against their own and they restrain themselves from reaching out to try to clasp at your warm fingers, instead tightening their grip on the inflexible steel. 

When you speak, your voice is hoarse, and if Qhetohr were to look at you right now they swear your eyes would be wet with unshed tears.

“I truly am as weak as you say I am,” You speak quietly, voice barely above a whisper, “Despite the sins you’ve committed, I cannot find it in myself to hate you.” 

Their eyes widen, and their head snaps to look at you, but it is too late. The hood of your cloak is pulled back up, and you’ve already turned to leave. The last they see of you is the hem of the cloak they had sewn for you themselves.

Yandere Destruction Deity who is stuck in an endless void similar to the ones they are able to harness themself, and tries to break out. Even if their powers were restrained, surely they’d be able to access at least some of them, right? But unfortunately for them, nothing works. They’re stuck. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who wanders the endless void, trying to find a gap somewhere, some sort of imperfection Ularus made when creating this prison. All the while their mind races with thoughts of you. Your first meeting. Your laugh. Your smile. Your kind eyes. Your final expression as they were sealed away. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who feels like they’re going insane. They’ve never spent so much time without you before. They’re starting to feel like the mortals they’ve seen on the streets during Ebris’ rebellion, deprived and hungry for the filthy substances Boztrix’s temple produced. But all they’re craving is you, the sweetest drug they’ve ever tasted. Sometimes, they swear they can see you. A specter haunting them in this fucked up hell, comforting them yet at the same time driving him down the rabbit hole further and further.

Yandere Destruction Deity who swears that they see light, in what seemed like a never-ending black landscape. I-is it you? Have you come to free him from this cage- Oh wait, it’s just another one of Uren’s children. Vetnos, god of the Sea. They can’t help but sigh, they still remember when they used to bully the god when they were but a small babe. Scaring them using their void powers whenever he wouldn’t go to bed. Perhaps he’s coming to taunt them? Something something, “How ironic that you’re trapped in the same shadows you’ve used to haunt me with,” something like that, maybe?

If Vetnos thinks he looks any way intimidating, then he’s sorely mistaken. Even bound and trapped, Qhetohr could probably take him down. 

“What brings you here, insignificant son of Uren?” Qhetohr drawls, a single dark brow raised, “Here to taunt me? I thought you’d be more mature than that by now.” They can’t help but tease him, it’s not their fault that Vetnos was so fun to mess with, he always had such interesting reactions, even when he was a child. 

Vetnos glared at them, eyes the same color as the sea during a harsh storm, “Silence, Qhetohr, if I must remind you, it is you who is restrained here.” Qhetohr can see it in the way that Vetnos is carrying himself, the boy is practically shaking in those leather boots of his. 

“And if I must remind you,” Qhetohr sneers, and walks over to Vetnos till they were eye-to-eye, “I didn’t need my powers when I killed your father.” At that, Vetnos flinches. Dhealdir, the first God of War, and one of Uren’s lovers. Vetnos’ father was one of the best soldiers in Uren’s army, but Qhetohr was the general for a reason. 

Qhetohr smirked, and then backed away from Vetnos. They cross their arms, “You still haven’t answered my question Vetnos.” They tap their finger against their bicep, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the bracelet digging into the flesh of their forearm. 

Vetnos huffs, the storm brewing within his gaze tempered reluctantly, “I have come to offer you a deal.” 

It was hard for Qhetohr to restrain the urge to chuckle, and so they didn’t, the sound flowing easily past their lips, “Let me guess, you want me to fight for you in exchange for my freedom?” 

“What- How did you know that’s what I wanted?” Vetnos asked with a bewildered expression on his face. 

“Before I was ever the Deity of Destruction, I was simply an outcast among my siblings,” Qhetohr explains, “When I sided with Uren during their rebellion, they all changed their opinion about me rather quickly.” 

That’s how the gods were, unless you were able to give them something of value you were no better than the dirt beneath their heel. The only good thing about mortals is how they foolishly waste their time on things that don’t matter, they don’t care if something has a use or not, as long as they like it they’ll keep it around. 

“All my family wants from me, is for me to be the dog on the leash they can sic on their foes,” Qhetohr narrows their eyes at Vetnos, “What is there to suggest that you’ll be any different.” 

They smirked when they saw the vein bulge in Vetnos’ forehead and how he clenched his fists tighter, the gods never liked having their own flaws pointed out to them, it made the reality that they were just as imperfect as the lowly mortals they looked down upon all the more real. 

“Anyways, how’re you going to free me in the first place?” Qhetohr asked. Ularus’ creations were annoying as hell because the bastard always built them to only have one weakness, and it was always way too complex for its own good. 

Suddenly in Vetnos’ hand appeared an orb of water the size of a child’s toy ball, “Ularus always has such unorthodox solutions to his machines,” Vetnos played with the water idly, “That fact, all the gods are aware of.” 

Qhetohr rolled their eyes, “And so?” 

“So, I thought if you were to bind a god in a void devoid of anything except the never ending darkness,” Vetnos approached Qhetohr, who watched with wary eyes, and held the orb of water over one of their bindings, “It was best to go for the simple approach.” 

Vetnos dropped the orb of water, and it splashed onto the bracelet. 

Qhetohr stared, “Was that supposed to do something?” They should’ve known better than to trust the younger gods, but here they were, letting one drop a ball of water on their hand and getting it all wet. 

Vetnos sighed, it was clear to Qhetohr that whatever patience he had managed to gather was already starting to run out, “You are familiar with Ofriedian metal, correct?” 

Qhetohr’s gaze flicked over to Vetnos’ hand, which still hovered above their own, now soaking wet, hand, “It is older than you are, of course I am familiar with Ofriedian metal.” They sigh, “If all you are here for is to soak my hand, then I’d like you to go back where you came from-” 

But Vetnos interrupted them, “Ofriedian metal is surprisingly very similar to iron,” His fist then clenches, and the water coating the bracelet seems to change and then seep into it, “And iron, as you may know, rusts.” 

It started off small at first, but as the seconds passed, the change became more noticeable. The Ofriedian metal started to lose its dark color, and slowly the color of rust started to invade the bracelet. Qhetohr watched with rapt attention as one of their bindings, that after so many years, was finally showing the signs of age. They could feel the changes too, the sharp spikes that had pierced their skin when the bracelet locked itself onto their wrist were starting to recede into the bracelet. 

But then, Vetnos’ hand spread out, and whatever was happening ceased. 

“Fascinating…” Qhetohr murmured. If Vetnos had allowed it to continue, they would’ve been halfway over to being a free god. 

“You see the power I hold now, Qhetohr?” Vetnos’ voice held an arrogance that wasn’t there before, “I am your only way of escaping this prison.” He had a smirk on his face, and despite how it frustrated Qhetohr to be so weak as to need the help of others, they couldn’t deny that this was the first time in a long time that they ever dared to hope of being free. 

Qhetohr’s thoughts went back to you, as it always did during their time here. Would you be happy to see them, and welcome them back with your warm embrace? Or would you scorn them, and draw your blade against theirs? They hoped it’d be the former, but they had enough sense in them to know it’d most likely be the latter. But still, they had to take the chance that you value your relationship enough to show the mercy that you’re famed for.

Qhetohr sighed, “Fine,” They placed their hands on their waist, “What is it you want me to do?” 

Vetnos grinned, “Swear your allegiance to me,” From the expression on his face alone, Qhetohr knew the younger god was giddy. He looked like a boy again, instead of the divine being that was freeing a force that he could not hope to contain.

Qhetohr considered the offer. They did not find the idea of being bound to one of Uren’s sons pleasing, but then again, there were always loopholes to be exploited. As long as they can twist their words then whatever forces above the gods would turn a blind eye to what they planned to do. 

“Very well,” Qhetohr sighed, and then took a knee, “I, Qhetohr, child of Kases, and deity of destruction, madness, and the void, swear to fight for Vetnos, god of the seas, in exchange for my freedom.” They hadn’t sworn an oath of allegiance to any other since Uren, and so the words felt unnatural on their tongue. 

Vetnos puffed up his chest, and had all the arrogance of a spoiled child who finally got what he wanted after throwing a tantrum, “I, Vetnos, son of Uren, and god of the seas, accept this oath, and swear to free Qhetohr, deity of destruction, madness, and the void, from their chains.” 

A tense atmosphere seemed to envelop the two of them, as the entities above watched Vetnos, who approached Qhetohr and used his powers to destroy the bracelets, and the collar around their neck. When the last one clattered to the ground, a red, glowing thread appeared between the two of them, tying them together by the wrist. 

Qhetohr ignored the string connecting them to Vetnos, and instead inspected the holes that the bracelets left in their wrists. They were small, and interspaced perfectly, like the pricks of a needle. That is, if the needle pierced through their skin and buried itself deep in their godly flesh. 

“Since we’ve finished the vows, I must remind you of a few things Qhetohr-” But before Vetnos could continue speaking, and setting down rules that Qhetohr would be forced to follow for the rest of eternity as long as they’d serve under him, Qhetohr flourished their hand and a piece of the void that surrounded them leapt out and wrapped itself around Vetnos’ throat. 

Vetnos choked on the air, as he felt the newly formed collar wrapping itself tightly, with enough force to crush his throat. His stormy blue eyes bulged out and were filled with righteous fury at Qhetohr’s trickery. 

Qhetohr chuckled, “You didn’t really think I’d just let you do whatever you wanted to me, did you?” They shook their head and clicked their tongue in disapproval, “Truly, Vetnos, I thought with age comes wisdom, but clearly that doesn’t apply to you.” A wicked grin formed on their face, “But I guess that doesn’t apply to you.”

If Vetnos’ face wasn’t turning blue from the lack of oxygen, it would surely turn red from, if not anger, then humiliation. 

Qhetohr stroked their chin as they contemplated what to do with Vetnos. They could kill him, which would remove the oath, but then the other gods would get suspicious. They do not know why Vetnos wanted them to fight for him, but if he went so far as to look for them of all people, then that must only mean there was a war brewing among the gods once more, and Vetnos was one of the key players.

Qhetohr’s mind wandered, going back to the last conflict they participated in: Ebris’ rebellion. As their gaze focused on Vetnos, who was only turning more blue as the seconds ticked by, they recalled Uren, Vetnos’ parent, who they were able to control with the same darkness choking Vetnos.  

Their eyes lit up as an idea entered their head, and then they smirked, “Do not worry Vetnos, for this day shall not be your last,”  They reached out their hand, and the void from the collar flowed like smoke to Vetnos’ gasping mouth. Vetnos’ eyes widened, and he struggled even further, moving wildly like a fish out of water. 

“It would do you well not to fight it, Vetnos,” Qhetohr drawled, “Just let go, let it consume you.” 

Vetnos ignored their advice, and closed his mouth, keeping his lips firmly shut so as to not let more enter him. But they simply entered through his ears, and his nose instead. Soon, as more of the void started to fill him, Vetnos’ resistance faded and then he nodded his mouth once more, welcoming the darkness inside him. 

When there was no more collar around his neck, and Vetnos’ eyes held a strange gleam, Qhetohr smiled, sharp and unnerving. They did not need to speak, and Vetnos fell to his knees, and then bent his back and pressed his head against the floor, right in front of Qhetohr’s feet. 

“I, Vetnos, son of Uren, and god of the seas, release Qhetohr, deity of destruction, madness, and the void from their oath.” 

The string binding them snapped, and Qhetohr let out a deep sigh of relief. Finally, they were now truly free. 

Qhetohr gestured for Vetnos to rise, and he did. They raised their hand, and called upon the void that had once been their prison, and it obediently followed their orders, and gathered swiftly in their hand. 

Once the last of it joined in, what they held was a pure black cube. They then placed their other hand on top of it, and crushed it as one would crush a fly.

Qhetohr looked around, and was pleased to see the bright blue sky, to feel the tall grass tickling their legs, and the radiant sun that had trapped them in the first place beating down upon their pale skin. 

Thoughts of you immediately flooded their head, and a smile formed on their face. Not harsh, not cruel, but instead it was one that a poet would make thinking of their beloved muse. 

“Soon, [Name],” Qhetohr relishes in how the sound of your name still rolls off their tongue as naturally as their own, “I will be your steadfast companion once more, and no war will ever separate us.”

Yandere Destruction Deity who never thought they’d be able to leave the stupid box, but here they are, neck free from that heavy collar, wrists no longer being wrapped by those thick bracelets, the sun which they wish to consume with their void shining down on their marble skin. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who decides to lay low for a while. Although they want to see you so much it physically hurts to be apart from you, they have to be patient, though it’s hard, they never were good at this whole waiting thing like you were. They decide to learn more about what’s happened since their imprisonment nearly two centuries ago. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is tempted to reveal themself and challenge the God of Victory to a duel to the death when they learn of the state of your relationship. No, they’re not just tempted. They need to. But for now, they’ll restrain themself. That can come later. You were always naive and oblivious to others' feelings for you, despite your seemingly infinite wisdom. They’re sure you didn’t mean for it to happen, it was surely that young upstart’s fault. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who finally decides that it’s the right moment to strike, and appears at your temple. It’s the only one you have. The one they built with you back all those years ago, when things were far more innocent than they ever were now. They’ll make sure not to make too much of a mess. 

They are outside your temple, the elegant, pale marble untouched by the war and devastation that has plagued the earth since they've been unleashed. Good, your house remains as safe as it was during Ebris’ rebellion.

Qhetohr’s eyes wander over the marble pillars, the sturdy roof, and the well-trimmed shrubbery; the green served as a fine contrast against the pure white of the marble. Nothing had changed much since the last time they were at your temple, and that was nearly two centuries ago. A new statue, a tree cut down, flowers blooming where there was only grass, but everything else was the same. 

They walked up the steps, their heart racing faster. Qhetohr paused in front of a statue. You, not in the nude like other gods, but instead in your old cloak, head bowed and a small, gentle smile on your face. Hands clasped together in prayer. For who, even they are not sure. 

Inscribed on the pedestal, are familiar words. 

[Name], God of mercy, Patron of slaves and the shackled, Father of Dakmes, Ugrena, Bagbris, Ather, Rhohdos, and many heroes. Kindest of the gods. 

Kindest of the gods. If a mortal were to call any other god this, they would be smited for such blasphemy. All gods were gracious, at least that was what they all claimed. But all the gods acknowledged that you were the one with the most love in your heart, and so this inscription remained. 

Qhetohr entered the temple, sandal clad feet silent, face cloaked just like your statue. The fabric is as dark as the voids they summoned, the only splash of color being the gold embroidery at the hem, a match for your own. 

One of your followers, young and still filled with the last flushes of boyhood, notices them first. He looks up from his sweeping, “Good day to you,” Like all your followers, he spoke slowly and with a calmness that is hard to find these past years, “What brings you to this temple?” Qhetohr noticed the discomfort in the boy's expression, he could tell that there was something strange about them but could not place his finger on it.

Qhetohr surveys the area, and finds that, save for a few other followers strewn about cleaning the floors, that it is barren. “Where are all the others?” They ask. 

“They are in the libraries, or in the gardens,” The youth replies, “Why? Are you looking for one? A sibling perhaps?” 

Qhetohr smirks, “Something like that,” You were more to them than just one of their many siblings, you were their only confidante, their first and only love, but to call you their brother was not wrong. 

“What is their name?” The youth inquires.

Qhetohr’s eyes narrow, like a fox, and they grin, “[Name],” They supply. The youth flinches, the oppressive aura he felt was because in front of him was a deity. He falls to his knees, the broom clattering to the ground and attracting the attention of the others, who watch as he bends down and his head presses against the cool marble. 

“Forgive me, lord!” The calmness in his voice is gone, replaced with a high pitched begging, “I- I did not realize I was in a presence of one as great as yourself-” 

“Shh,” The boy flinches, but does not dare look up, “Stand, child.” Qhetohr has a smirk on their face, but their eyes are as cold as any other god when they meet with the boy's fearful gaze. Not warm like yours, for there was never another god quite like you.

The others watched with wide eyes as they realized who it was they were staring at, and immediately resumed their work, but their ears could not help but continue to listen. 

“Where is he?” Qhetohr asks. 

“Lord [Name] is in the gardens,” The youth steadies his voice, and it impresses Qhetohr how assured he sounds despite how he's shaking like a leaf, “If you’d like I can-” 

“No need,” Qhetohr was already walking past him, “I know my way around.”

Qhetohr walked through the elegantly carved halls of your temple, unlike other temples, it was built during the first rebellion. From the hands of the cyclopes, who you had freed from the Great ones, and who had in return swore their lineage’s loyalty to not only Uren, but to you as well. 

Perhaps that was why among all the gods of the oldest pantheon, yours and Qhetohr’s siblings, you were one of the few that remained. On the very marble hung paintings depicting your deeds, drawn by the hands of Addia herself, a Great one who sided with the gods after you had slain her husband Lilios. 

Even if their eyes have seen these landscapes many times, they never grew wary of the sight of them. You swearing an oath to Uren. You freeing the Cyclopes. Your form clad in your Ofriedian armor, plunging your spear into Lilios’ neck. You fighting by Qhetohr’s side, watching their back as their blade slices through the necks of the Great one’s soldiers. 

Qhetohr slows to a stop at the last one, your face is as hard as stone, yet still as beautiful as no other god has ever been or will be, and kinder than any creature on earth. They remember watching as Addia painted this one, and critiquing how harsh she had made you look. In contrast, Qhetohr’s face is one of devilish delight as blood splatters on their pale skin. 

You shook your head when you saw it, “I do not want you to be immortalized like this,” You rarely complained about anything no matter how much it bothered you, “If it would not stain Addia’s name, I would have this painting burned.” 

Now, Qhetohr’s name is only remembered by the bloodshed and devastation they’ve caused, and even if it displeases you, they do not deny that they prefer it this way. 

Qhetohr finally arrives to the entrance to your garden, the only place they've ever felt at peace. The sound of running water from the fountain, your doves chirping, and idle chatter between those working in the garden takes them back to more innocent days, when the only people in the garden would be the two of you. 

Qhetohr steps foot inside the garden, and sticks out like a sore thumb. Their black cloak, a stark contrast against the verdant green, and immediately one of your priests approaches them. “Excuse me, young one, but you are not permitted inside Lord [Name]’s gardens,” The old man speaks like he does not sense Qhetohr’s naturally oppressive aura, “I must ask you to leave.” 

They sigh, this old man surely recognizes them, does he not? The paintings are still on the wall, and though they were not the main subject they were still a prominent figure standing beside you. Qhetohr’s eyes narrow down on him, “Who are you to order me around, mortal?” 

The old man flinches at the sight of Qhetohr’s eyes, and his lips tremble, and then he shrieks, “I Ávyssos!” The Abyssal. Qhetohr snorts, they haven’t heard that title in years. 

The other priests and priestesses look up from their work and their eyes widen at the sight of Qhetohr, who clicks their tongue and then glares at the old man, “Should’ve held your tongue,” They smirk, “No need to hold your tongue when you won’t have one, eh?” 

Before Qhetohr’s words could settle in the old man’s feeble mind, they shot out their hand and a black beam shot out and forced itself into the old man’s mouth and wrapped around his tongue. Then, it crushes the tongue till it’s nothing more but a bloody mass of flesh in the old man’s mouth. He tries to scream, but he cannot. 

Only then do they see you, you came as soon as you sensed your followers’ terror. Your beautiful [e/c] eyes widen in shock, and then harden, “Qhetohr,” Their name falls off your tongue like it’s an insult, “How did you get out of your prison?” 

The rest of your priests and priestesses try to run away now that you’ve arrived, but Qhetohr summons tendrils made from the void that hold them in place and gag their mouths.

They smile pleasantly, “Did a bit of bargaining, but that’s not what matters,” Qhetohr walks closer to you, and their smile grows wider when you do not back away, “Aren’t you happy that I’m back, [Name]?” 

When they reach out to touch you, only then do you step back, “You’re not meant to be here, Qhetohr,” You remind them, “You were in that place for a reason.” 

Qhetohr groans, “Oh come on, [Name]!” They whine like a petulant child, “You were always such a stick in the mud,” Qhetohr then grins, and snake an arm around you before you could get away, “You really don’t miss me, hm?” 

You push them away, “How could I miss somebody like you?” They know you’re lying, they know you better than the back of their hand. But it’s difficult to keep that smile on their face. 

Qhetohr grins, and then the gagged followers let out muffled screams as the tendrils tighten around them. Your eyes widen, and they chuckle, “Be careful what you say, love,” They croon, “It just might kill these poor mortals.”

“What do you want, Qhetohr,” You’re getting afraid, afraid of them, afraid of what they could do to your followers, their grin grows forced, “Is this for Ebris’ rebellion? Do you resent me for the consequences of your own actions?” 

Qhetohr snarls, and the tendrils grow even tighter around your followers and the both of you can hear the sound of their bones creaking, “I don’t! I fucking don’t, okay?” They feel like they’re a godling again, small and powerless before they ever discovered how strong they truly were, “You just- You’re not meant to be like this!” 

You don’t even have to ask what they mean. “You’re meant to- You’re meant to be kind, to- to welcome me back into your arms with a big smile and-” 

“Qhetohr,” Your voice is cold, “What do you want.” 

Qhetohr takes a deep breath, and then smiles, “I want you to come with me.” “To where?” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Qhetohr’s smile widens, “Come with me, or I’ll kill all of your followers.” 

Your eyes widen, and you hiss, “You monster,” Your nostrils flare, and your fists clench. Like an angry bull seeing red. Never have they seen you so angry before, and their stomach twists from how it’s because of them. You grit your teeth, “Fine.” 

Their smile grows even wider, and they summon more tendrils that wrap around your wrists like handcuffs. A chain materializes in the middle between the two cuffs and the other end is being held in Qhetohr’s hand, who tugs it towards them, “Come on, [Name], let’s go.” 

“Free them first,” You remind them, and they look at your followers whose faces are filled with sorrow for you, and fear for themselves. Qhetohr nods, but instead of the tendrils disappearing, they instead wrap tighter. Your eyes widen, “I said free them, not-” But it is too late, their bones crack and when the tendrils finally fade away, all that’s left are bloody remnants of what was once a human body. 

“The [Name] I knew would’ve been wise enough to make me swear to free them,” Qhetohr chuckles, “But unfortunately my dear, I cannot leave any witnesses behind.” 

“You-!” But Qhetohr gags you with more of the tendrils, and leads you out of the temple. Any followers that scream at the sight of the blood covering Qhetohr, or see you in chains and try to help gets killed. Some are spared, but cursed. 

Qhetohr glances at you, your face is splattered with blood, and your eyes are still wide in shock. They smile, and wipe away the blood from your face, “It’s all right,” They coo, “You’ll be able to move on, eventually.” 

Yandere Destruction Deity, who finally has you back where you belong: Right by their side. They keep you with them back in those islands they claimed during Uren’s rebellion, what was it called again? Ah right, the Ivory Isles. They erect a pale tower as white as the bones from the Great one that made up the island, out of the ground, and now you both have a home suitable for gods such as yourselves. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who doesn’t mind that you act so coldly, of course you would. They did kill a lot of your followers back in the temple, and there was still Ebris’ rebellion. Bumps like these didn’t just go away overnight, or they suppose over two centuries, even they were aware of that. You’ll forgive them eventually, you always did. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who delights in all the small ways you’re slowly letting them back on your good side, they’re allowed to stand closer to you, allowed to hold your hand again, allowed to wrap their arms around you. Hell, one night you even allowed them to kiss your forehead, the same way you always told them you loved, because it sprouted a warmth within your stomach that spread throughout you. They wonder, as you close your eyes, what they make you feel now.

Yandere Destruction Deity who spends the next few decades puppeteering Vetnos’ body as their conflict with Aenar, dubbed by the mortals as the War of Storms, continues on. It is only when Aenar’s blade finally slices through Vetnos’ neck does it end, but they know the gods will still be too busy to find you, because they’re all too busy starting new wars. Seriously, what in Kases’ name was wrong with the newer generation of gods? 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is able to spend the rest of their days in peace with you; tending to your new gardens, watching the stars together, talking about any topic that comes to mind, sometimes even sparring if they’re feeling lenient. It felt all so idyllic, so domestic. In their younger days they sparked an entirely new rebellion just because they were getting bored, but now all they want is to continue living with you peacefully in the tower. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who isn’t pleased when they detect that the curse they’ve placed on that young priest of yours has been triggered, who could be the fool daring to search for you? 

Yandere Destruction Deity who can’t stifle the laugh that slips past their lips when they learn that it’s the God of Victory. When they learned of your relationship with him, they decided to learn more about this upstart. They wonder what you could ever find of value in this arrogant little bastard to ever tolerate him so much. They’re excited to see what their void will do to Faius’ already decaying mind. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who decides to pour more of their energy into Faius’ bracelet, just to ruin the boy further. You notice, and ask them why they’re looking so tired, and they laugh and tell you they’ve just been spending many nights sleepless thinking about you. Their flirtations are enough to dissuade you from asking more. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is surprised when it only takes four months for Faius to arrive at the Ivory Isles, but perhaps they really shouldn’t. If Faius was anything like them, then this level of dedication was to be expected. Really, the things gods do for true love. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who persuades you to stay in your gardens, while they prepare for Faius to arrive at their tower. It’s been so long since their blade has tasted blood, they hope for your sake and theirs that their skills haven’t rusted too much. 

Qhetohr had seen the statues of Faius, of course they did. In war it was important to make offerings to the God of Victory, but they had only done the more human-looking forms instead of his divine one, which was the one that Faius had arrived in.  

What he did share with the statues however, was the way that his armor was depicted. He wore a cuirass made of Ofriedian metal, greaves from the same material, and carried with him his sword, a familiar dove carved onto its hilt that had topaz for eyes. 

His eyes were perhaps the most striking thing about him, the whites of his eyes were eclipsed by velvety black and really made the amber color of his iris pop. They hardened when they came to rest upon Qhetohr, who smiled as they waved at him. 

“Greetings, I take it you are Faius?” Qhetohr noticed the dark bracelet around his wrist, and smirked. They could end the battle right now, but where was the fun in that? Besides, this guy was the only one who bothered to search for you, so they had to give him some respect. 

He grunts, “You’re Qhetohr, aren’t you?” 

“Indeed I am,” Qhetohr beams, and then spreads their arms, “Welcome, to the Ivory Isles, God of Victory.” They chuckle, “Apologies, I couldn’t welcome you when you got on the island, I was preoccupied.”

“Save the pleasantries,” Faius takes a step closer to them, “Where is [Name]?” 

“Rather impatient, aren’t you?” They sigh, and go down the stairs, “You’re just like your mother, Gholyja. How is she anyway? Still as bloodthirsty as ever I take it-”

Before they can even finish their sentence, the tip of Faius’ sword presses into their neck, “You didn’t answer my question, Ávyssos,” He hisses, “Where. Is. [Name]?” 

Qhetohr raises one singular brow, and then takes a step back away from the sharp blade, “I see you’ve inherited your mother’s lust for violence,” Their eyes narrow, “Or perhaps that’s simply my own powers at work.” 

Faius’ brows furrow, “This,'' He raises the hand that has the bracelet on it, “Is your doing?” They can see how much it’s affecting him. What should be a flawless face, is weighted down by the dark circles around his eyes that have a wildness to them that they are willing to bet wasn’t there before.

Qhetohr gave him a sly grin as they nodded, “Mhm, who else could possibly be giving you such delicious thoughts if not for the deity of madness themself?” Thoughts similar to the ones that were running in Uren’s head must be going through Faius’ mind as well. 

Faius grits his teeth, “I’ll have you killed for this,” He promises, “And [Name] will not mourn your death.” 

Qhetohr wants to laugh at that, nobody knows you better than they do. Certainly not this foolish boy with too big a head, so who was he to assume you’d feel such a way? Besides, they only needed to show you the effects of what Faius has done in search of a way to you and then you’d be recoiling in disgust at the mere mention of his name.

Qhetohr summons their blade, crafted from the void, it crackles with dark energy, “I can say the same about you, God of Victory,” They say his title like a mockery and delight in how it causes him to tighten his grip further on his sword’s grip. 

Oh, how they’ll enjoy the sight of his ichor on their blade.

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hi!! I saw your latest work for Record of Ragnarok and I loved it sm! Could you do Yandere Nikola, Qin and Hades with a very clingy reader? like following them around, seeking their approval and so on, and if it's alright, could you add some NSFW to if? :3

Suureee! Heeey. I love Qin AND Nikola. Both of ‘em: ideal, hot, husbandos— though, my favouritistic ass says Nikola. But tbh, can’t not love Hades too! But anyway, hope you all enjoy

Nikola Tesla

Nikola is a very logical intelligent man so when he met you, whose has a interest in science too, he tried his best to fight against the obsession and the intense love he developed for you under such a short period of time, since he considers your feelings a lot

Though. Nikola does end up falling into the sick toxicity of Yanderes but he does not lose his scientific and caring mindset so whilst he is rather aggressive to others and protective over you and constantly works to impress you, he won’t push you around or disrespect your boundaries

Nikola is a rather shy Yandere, he doesn’t know how to approach and talk to you properly. He isn’t insecure— well, he’s semi-insecure and he wants to do the best he can to get you to love him and to his relief, it had seemed to work

Since you’re extremely clingy over him, whiny for his attention, following him EVERYWHERE and sitting beneath his contraptions whilst he works, trying to finish his vastly advanced inventions for his approval. You seriously do not need to ASK for Nikola to do any of this since he’ll do it all and more

Nikola’s a gigantic sweetheart, he is rarely violent or even that obsessive towards you since he is lenient and wants you happy, his obsession is mainly based on drawing pictures of you on the back of his blueprints or considering you in his work

To be honest, Nikola’s not that sexually driven at all… he’s actually a virgin and has been his entire life but if you want his attention in the bed, he’ll try his best to please you and yeah, you’ll take his virginity. This is just rare on his ends since he cares more about your connection with him emotionally

“Oh. No, no! Don’t do that! You… Lightbulb. You don’t need to work on my inventions for me to get my pure enamour. You make me delighted every day, you don’t need to impress me. I feel honoured just breathing the air you do. You always make me proud by merely trying and enjoying Science as I do”

Qin Shi Huang

Qin, on the other hand, is very arrogant and confident. King of confidence yet he has a very pristine palette for concubines since he almost never had a true lover. When he met you, he was surprised by how somebody so mundane caught his attention this way

Qin doesn’t really bother trying to fight his growing love and obsession with you a few days after meeting you since he knows he can fix you and make you the perfect Emperor (or) Empress for him. You’ll just need some improvement and he doesn’t mind being pushy and forceful about making you the Royal who fits being by his side

Qin is not clingy but quite hip-attached so he is constantly with you. Because he is the Yandere who completely dictates your life, he controls you and he isn’t ashamed of it. He needs to fix you and he doesn’t mind getting scold-y if it means you’ll listen to him

However, Qin doesn’t need to argue or forceful or even demanding as a Emperor with you since you’re already clingy and needy for his attention and his support and his impress. You want him to approve of your efforts to become a Royal as he wants and you get it after working so hard

Qin is a passionate lover, constantly pampering you with high luxurious grace of being the new Emperor (or) Empress of China with Qin. He shows love through his gifts, he suspects loyalty of you and he usually has you right besides him. Matching him in style and he already has you clad in a engagement ring

Qin views sex as an important part of a soon to be permeant marriage so he often likes to take you bed and he is quite the dominant man, he loves to feel you around his cock. He is quite sexually-driven and you’ll, at least, have sex with him twice a week~ enjoy how flexible and top he is

“Ài! You are not eating, eat! What? … you’re doing excellent with your manners. You don’t need to go overboard since I am very pleased with your efforts of becoming China’s best [emperor/empress], behind myself. Come now, let’s enjoy dinner together~”

Hades

Hades is the most content with developing a deep obsession and love over you in such little time that he barely knows anything about you but he truly doesn’t care, he cares about the cute person he has met and found out about so he quickly falls into his own dark desires and begins to chase you with no real shame over it

Hades is a graceful yet stern King and whilst he truly lives to serve his younger brothers and care for his Pantheon, he doesn’t see any issue with pursuing a lover and gaining a Husband (or) Wife for himself. He promises to take care of you and fight for your honour with all his might

Hades finds your clinginess and neediness and almost childish-like whininess over trying to impress him and have his joy and approval over your every action delightful. He’ll give it to you but he also plays along with all your work so he’ll wait until you’re happy before giving praise

Hades is not a aggressive or brutal Yandere at all, he is a gentle caring one. Even for a man like him, he doesn’t ever ignore you or your intake as he values your opinion, even if he does do things behind your back to fulfil his obsession over every little thing of you

Hades is a loving husband, right up. One, he does not hesitate to ask you to marry him when he learns you reciprocate his intimate love for you and two, he’ll make sure you feel like his equal and feel heard. He gives you what you want at the right time

Hades views sex as lovemaking, as an emblem of his forever lasting love for you and he’ll give it to you when he wants since he isn’t really one for wanting sex himself. So, like Nikola, he’ll fuck you into the mattress when you want it and he’ll give you a good night indeed

“Sugar skull. Come here, please. Why are you grating my Bident? Oh… you want me to make me happy? You already do by being yourself, I’d need have asked you to be my one and only [bride/groom] if I didn’t. Don’t sweat, you’re perfect to me”

[maliciouslove]

𝕍𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕟

NSFW, dark content, aged up characters (21+)

ʚ pairing ɞ scumbag villain!izuku midoriya x morally corrupt hero!reader

ʚ word count ɞ 2.7k

ʚ summary ɞ izuku grew up with all power taken from him, so he became the type of person that enjoys making others feel powerless. nothing feeds his ego more than a cute girl crumbling under his touch and feeling powerless to stop him from sliding his hands all over her body in the packed train. until he meets you—a peculiar, equally fucked in the head girl that actually enjoyed the things he was doing to her. enjoyed the thrill of almost being caught. enjoyed having power taken from her. a debauched, morally corrupt hero in disguise.

ʚ tags ɞ frotteurism (fetish for groping people in crowded places), tw dubcon, tw noncon, tw sexual assault, tw sexual harassment, tw exhibitionism, tw power imbalance, pussy job, public sex, creampie, cw degradation, use of “whore” once

Just like any other child, Izuku Midoriya grew up wanting to be a hero, however, despite his aspirations, the boy never manifested a quirk. Still, he never gave up and never lost hope—that is, until he failed the UA entrance exam and was brutally made fun of by everyone else.

“Look at this loser, thinking he could pass the exam without an actual quirk, what a joke.”

“Jokes are funny, this guy is absolutely pathetic. Go home kid, become a policeman or fireman instead, leave the hero work for those with quirks.”

“Maybe if you take a swan dive off a roof, you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life.”

Some heroes they were going to be.

And that was when his mind started getting corrupt. Izuku went down a different, darker path than the one he had envisioned as a child. He mixed with the wrong people and little by little he shed off his hero dream, discarding it alongside his morals, being perfectly content being a scumbag villain instead.

All power was stripped away from him once the world learned he was quirkless, so he sought ways to make others feel even more powerless than he did. Nothing stroked his ego more than making cute girls squirm and crumble under his touch in paralyzing fear, as his hands wandered over their bodies on a packed train. He enjoyed the way their eyes would shut tightly as if to avoid confronting the reality of their own powerlessness in the situation. The way their bodies stiffened the moment he leaned in closer to take a whiff of their perfume.

Why aren’t you saying anything, pretty girl? You have a quirk, don’t you? That already makes you more qualified than me to be a hero. So why are you letting me touch you? Why are you keeping your eyes shut? Why are you giving me so much power?    

Every little squirm, every hitch of their breath, every shake of their hands, and the way they would hope somebody would notice—it made Izuku feel powerful.

Do you know why you’re weaker than even me, sweetheart? Because you’re waiting for someone else to save you, you’re waiting for a hero.

 That’s how his days went by—hop on the train, find the weakest target, the insecure girls, the quiet ones, the ones whose eyes still sparkled with hope that a big strong hero will always be there to protect them. Once he found his victim, he moved in, ready to prove them wrong—show them how little heroes actually care. Towering over them, he would stare down their cleavage, letting his imagination run wild as his hands slide up the side of their hip. An accidental grind against their ass, a swift trace of his index finger down the inside of their thigh. His ministrations would make his targets shrink even further, the thrill of being found out feeding his power hunger further and making his cock painfully hard in the confinement of his slacks.

It became routine until he was able to pick out the perfect targets with a single glance, until he was able to predict what each girl would do and how everything would play out. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to find someone equally as debauched as him one day.

With your car being in the repair shop for the next week, you had started using public transport to get to work. That of course meant having to travel during peak hours, more often than not finding yourself pressed against strangers, sometimes absolute creeps, and yet some very dark and hidden part of you enjoyed that, the unwanted attention making you buzz with excitement.

And today was no different—you found yourself pushed in the very corner of the train car facing away from the other passengers. A large green-haired man stood right behind you, muscular arm holding onto the ceiling rail as his entire body loomed over your much smaller one.

The train was fully packed and everyone was minding their business— some sleeping, some listening to music, and others glued to their phones. Yet, the man behind you seemed to focus all his attention on you. You could feel his gaze travel down your nape, studying the curvature of your spine, eyes moving downwards to your ass and legs. It felt like prickles on your skin, like an invisible hand stripping you of all your clothes and the thought made you rub your thighs together.

The lack of space forced you both to stand very close to each other, the motions of the train pushing you into his chest every so often. You could tell he was using every opportunity to smell your hair, craning his neck downwards to also look down your shirt. You wonder if he could see what color your bra was, if he could see the lace poking out from under the collar of your shirt.

The train changed tracks again and you found yourself pressed against his chest once more. This time his large hand found purchase on your hip, thumb gently stroking the bit of skin that was showing above the hem of your skirt. In the reflection of the window, you see his green eyes staring into yours, full of lust and hunger. His aura threatening to consume you entirely and for a second, your body filling with fear, a heavy feeling settling in your chest.

You look away, quickly.

Your heart is hammering in your chest and you fear he can hear it, taste the blood that’s currently coursing through your veins.

The train shifts and you can feel his hard cock pressed against your ass, his fingers on your hip tightening their grip. Your body feels paralyzed under his touch.

But not by fear.

Excitement.

You let your body be swayed by the motion of the train, making sure to circle your ass back onto his cock, licking your lips and buzzing with pleasure when your skirt hitches on his bulge, lifting and revealing part of your panties. You take a swift look around to see if anyone is looking your way, but as usual, everyone is consumed in their own thoughts, too absorbed by their own miserable existence to notice anything else.

You’re dragged out of your momentary haze by his breath on your neck.

“What do you think you’re doing there, sweetheart, has your mommy not taught you any better?”

His voice is deep, feigning concern for you while his eyes ooze vile lust and need for control. His presence devours you, it feels like sludge covering you from head to toe, sliding down your throat and filling your lungs with dread, making you unable to talk, unable to even look him in the eye.

His hands move down your hips, hiking your skirt up even further, fingers tracing the delicate lace of your underwear. Your clit is throbbing with anticipation so perfectly masked as fear. For Izuku, your heightened pulse meant paralyzing fear, but only you knew the truth about how this made your blood boil in excitement. How much you wanted him to slide his hands between your legs, to fucking take you right then and there, amidst the people that could see the pleasure blooming on your face any second now.

You faintly hear the unzipping of his slacks and feel the warmth of his cock on your bare skin—it’s thick and heavy against your ass cheek, smearing pre on your skin and panties. You’re feeling dizzy, body going limp in his strong arms as his hand sneaks around your waist and cups your pussy under the frills of your skirt.

For a brief moment, his movements pause as his mind processes what he’s feeling—you’re soaking wet, panties completely drenched, arousal practically dripping down your thighs. He was used to women’s bodies reluctantly reacting to him, but this was rather different. His eyes dart forward, inspecting your features more closely now—your heart was erratic, but not because of crippling fear. He leans in, noticing how blown your pupils are, consuming all the color in your eyes. Lips parted and chest heaving, he finally finds the piece of the puzzle that seemed to be missing, the explanation behind the odd feeling of being unable to predict what his prey will do next—your eyes had the same fragmented madness behind them.

You were just as sick as he was.

Without a second of hesitation, the hand that’s cupping your sex moves your panties to the side, thick and calloused fingers running through your wet folds, spreading your arousal and circling around your clit with tender motions.

A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it—your skin is on fire and your insides are melting under this stranger's touch. You close your eyes in an attempt to compose yourself while the hand on your hip travels up your sides to squeeze your breast, teasing your nipples over the fabric. The green-haired man’s breath is almost as erratic as yours, his hard and leaking cock evidence of how turned on he was by your compliance, by the fact you were actually enjoying being used like this in public.

His cock now rubs between your thighs, his hot skin meeting your sticky one, and your insides beginning to knot just by the thought. You’re letting a complete stranger get off on you. You secretly hope that someone else on the train has noticed and is maybe even enjoying the show.

Your insides are aching for relief so you push yourself against his cock, the mushroom tip spreading and gliding between your folds, clit rubbing against the veins on his shaft.

Holding yourself with one hand by the ceiling rail and slightly lifting yourself onto your tiptoes, feeling the tip of his cock pushing against your entrance. Biting your lip you sink back onto his cock, taking two inches past your entrance, grazing your soft walls. The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes you experience every sensation trifold, makes you want to shamelessly grind against him and moan in ecstasy, but you are in public, therefore you compose yourself and relish in the slow feeling of being filled up by this man.

Izuku’s hand grips your waist harder, fucking himself into your tight, greedy cunt, feeling himself being sucked in by your plush walls. You are practically dripping onto his cock, the natural lubrication allowing him to smoothly fully sheathe himself inside you, putting his other hand over your mouth to prevent to moan that was about to escape your lips.

He holds you there, flush against him, the tip of his cock pressing against the deepest, most delicious spot inside you, subtle hip movements rocking you back and forth, the slow motion allowing him to massage that sweet spot he currently finds himself pressed against.

His eyes briefly scan the train cart, confirming that every passenger is still oblivious to what’s going on, continuing to push you off his thick cock, only to slide back in, softly, as though not to make a sound.

He’s big in every sense. His large frame hiding you from any onlookers, big hands easily maneuvering you onto his fat cock, splitting you open and pushing through the resistance of your tight hole. Your body jolts as he stretches you out almost painfully, but every time he thrusts inside you, you see stars in your vision from how deep he was.

You feel snug and warm around Izuku’s cock and he could stay buried inside you forever. He’s never met anyone this fucked up who would let him use them for his own pleasure. In a fully packed train nonetheless. You were sick and twisted just like Izuku, making him relish in the feeling, sensing that you’re not going to cause a scene and opting to let go of your waist in favor of sliding his hand down the front of your pelvis and playing with your puffy clit.

The moment he started drawing soft circles around your sensitive nub he felt your knees give in and your insides clench. God, you were going to come undone for him.

He watches your eyebrows pinch together as you bite your lip, slowly increasing the pace of his thrusts. You look so pretty, trying to keep your pleasure hidden, but shamelessly moving your hips to match his own.

For the first time during this train ride, you look into his eyes and maintain eye contact instead of shyly breaking it off. There is pure sin set ablaze in your eyes, a lustful need, a burning desire that he feels he needs to quench. Just your eyes alone could make Izuku cum on the spot, seductive and debauched, deprived and full of the same madness as his own.

Your eyes beg him, so he obeys.

With one final, rather harsh thrust Izuku buries himself to the hilt, emptying his load deep inside your gummy walls, spurting thick white ropes of cum while nuzzling his face in your neck—committing your scent to memory.

The train slows down as it approaches the next stop and the strange man gently pulls out. Your hands quickly fix your panties and skirt, hiding any evidence of his ministrations. His load slowly trickles down, soiling your panties, and yet the feeling brings you nothing but joy, as if you were currently on cloud nine.

The train comes to a halt, an alarm signaling the opening of the doors blares out.

The mass of people began leaving the train, the tall green-haired man seamlessly blending into the crowd and disappearing.

Avoiding eye contact and swiftly walking past clusters of people, Izuku was assured he was out of danger, turning around the corne—

“Where do you think you’re going, handsome?” You cut off his path and look into his eyes, a smile that didn’t reach your eyes plastered on your lips. “I’m not quite done with you yet.”

“Aw, I don’t think anyone’s ever come for seconds before.” Izuku places his hands in his pockets, giving you a smug smile and shamelessly tracing every curve of your body with his eyes, imagining what you look like without all those pesky clothes on.

“Aw, you know, you’re kinda cute, Izuku Midoriya,” The green-haired man's smile faltered. From the inside pocket of your jacket you pull out a card that he immediately recognizes. A card he was destined to never ever obtain. “Too bad I’m gonna have to arrest you.”

Before his mind could assimilate, you had easily pushed him against the wall with his hands behind his back, placing handcuffs on his wrists.

“Y-You can’t arrest me, you whore, you literally let me fuck you, what kind of hero are you?” He spits out in shock, words laced with venom, growling in attempting to shake you off, even though panic rises in his throat like bile. “You’re no fucking hero, you’re just like me.”

“Mm, I  probably am… but see, I have a quirk so I can get away with being a morally corrupt hero.” The words spoken in a sickly sweet voice rang in his ears, deafening, despite being whispered, meant only for his ears to hear.

Izuku opens his mouth to argue, to threaten to expose you, but you shush him with an index finger over his lips.

“Don’t bother, who do you think they are going to believe? A pro-hero with a quirk and a squeaky clean record, or a quirkless scumbag that we have hundreds of reports on for sexual harassment and assault?”

With no affection or remorse you yank him by the hair and lick the shell of his ear.

“I had fun, Izuku. Find me when you get out of jail.” You place a final feather light kiss to his cheek and lead him through the crowds to bring him into the nearest precinct.

No man would ever make you feel as alive and exhilarated as he did, the memory of what you did being something you often revisit when you get yourself off late into the night after patrol, thinking of his villainous green eyes, while your words would haunt Izuku and play on a loop each night as he plotted ways to find you once he had served his time.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

[bellewintersroe]

Jenson Button x Famous!Reader 2009

you’re a famous British model and actress who’s dating Jenson Button during 2009 GP. You’re also his biggest support but you get a name for yourself in the British press as being a bit of a ‘wild child’. Cameras constantly follow you around the grid, but Jenson is absolutely smitten by your crazy antics.

warnings: headcanons mentions of sex, oral sex, innuendos, Jenson is in love with her like teeth rotting cuteness, mentions of public flashing?!

I feel like Jenson and y/n would meet a year prior to starting to go out, when she was still in a relationship with somebody else. She’s a little younger, maybe when they actually start dating she’s 22 and he’s like 29?

anyway he’s heard of her before and sees her and his friends are all hyping him up to say something, maybe they’re at an after party where there’s lots of big names.

he walks around the corner all hyped up, then sees you snogging this other fella and he’s deep down crushed.

anyway a year later you’re single and he sweeps you off your feet, absolutely buzzing that this time nobody got in his way.

the relationship moves naturally, you’re both young and still (kinda) like to party, the British press go WILD that the two of you are together. You’d attend as many races as possible, being in the front row and cheering him on each time.

there’s one incident specifically where you’re cheering from below as he stands on the podium. He’s grinning directly towards you and giggling you go to lift your top to flash him cheekily.

the camera ALL point to you but it’s his publicist that stops you, waving a hand in a panicked manner. “I wasn’t really going to!” You’d exclaim, glancing back up to Jenson whose jaw was dropped in excitement. The crowd was ‘wheeeeying’ each time you went to lift your top mischievously, but you ended up getting told off.

he’d love it when you rode tf out of him, titties in his face.

you’d get a reputation for partying together, but the tabloids make it seem far worse than what you actually do.

The uk papers love trying to get a good scandal out of the two of you, but you’re so close knit and stay out of drama it’s all aload of bollocks.

always getting caught in compromising positions, eg, he’s grabbing your bum or boobs.

you once got caught reaching under the blanket to rest a hand teasingly over his crotch.

he’d be such a tease omg, especially when he get a little cocky after winning a race.

but he really is a sweetheart, the media like to present you both as some kind of crazy, party animal couples and there’s sooo many rumours that fly around (none of them are true).

The two of you would 100% become more private and reserved as you got older, but especially in the first few years you’re a magnet for cameras.

you’d often be caught drinking in the paddock or partying, you’d become a staple fashion icon and one of the leading wags. It seems like you’re friends with everybody and anybody, causing you to become a likeable character on the grid.

I feel like Jenson would be so chilled out watching you doing interviews and speaking to whoever, but the minute somebody starts to take advantage of your kindness he’s stepping in.

Like some of the papers print the most misogynistic stories about you ever. We all know paparazzi especially the British press can be ruthless, so there’d be lots of times after nights out where they’re already waiting to hound you coming out of a bar.

One guy tries to take an inappropriate picture of you getting out of a car and Jenson punches him or hits his camera out of his hands, idk he’s just super protective over you.

would take you on soooo many holidays, deffo gets a little frisky on the private beaches and on the yachts, he loves it. He falls in love with you deeper and deeper each time he spends time with you.

Can’t get enough of you in a bikini.

sometimes he’ll get so excited to see you he play fights you and gets a little rough.

loves it when you get a little feisty omg.

when you surprise him at a race he’d wrap his arms so tightly around your front and snuggle his face into the crook of your neck omg he’s so soft idgaf.

massive softie when nobody is watching, isn’t afraid of a little PDA either in front of the right people ;)

[ramons-elevator]

Im just laying in bed thinking about the forgotten egg and how Cellbit reacted.

Before Cellbit read the Memory book, he wrote in his investigation book that he ‘found a place where an egg should be but instead he found a chest with a book called Memories’

Then as he read the book he read:

“Please know that I was here. I was alive. I was somebody. I had hopes, I had ambitions, I had love that I was ready to give.”

With so much intensity in his voice as he had tears in his eyes.

This part broke me. Because we know they were left for dead. We know what they could have turned into if someone found them. We know that they would have been smothered in love from the newcomers. We know that the love they wanted to give would have been give back to them by the truckload.

But also this is Cellbit. This is the guy who has a backpack full of flowers so he can give them to every egg when he see them. This is the guy who always makes sures he talks to every egg and tries to include them on things he’s building/planning.

This is the guy whose best friend is his son. This is the guy who had to learn quickly that life is precious on this island and needs to be cherished. He watched his son die his first day and a few weeks later, had to say goodbye to his son’s best friend.

Cellbit cares so much for the eggs. He was one of the first, if not the first, person to tell the french about the code and that they need to protect Pomme with their lives.

Seeing him, with tears in his eyes, move the cow head keychain on his backpack to display an egg was soul crushing.

Seeing him quickly erase what he wrote in his investigation book to ‘found a place where an egg should be, but theres nothing’ because he wants to protect this egg that has been gone.

Watching him type that whatever was there is ‘Gone and forgotten’ because thats what the federation wants.

Then him about to leave only to go back and clean up the egg’s room. Taking the time to put love and care into a place that was meant to be forgotten.

Because he is not forgetting them. He is never forgetting them or any of the eggs on the island. Every egg deserves love, even if its too late.

[cobaltsage]

I know my friends often think I’m paranoid for omitting pretty much every smart device outside of your standard phone and laptop from my life but honestly after playing Megaman Battle Network as a child, I know it’s only going to take a few very inspired people tired of corporate BS and experiencing a mental break to create a real world variation of World III.

Like. We’ve already heard of stories of people whose chastity cages got electronically hacked and force locked, and while that’s certainly creative, MMBN absolutely had way more simpler, and entirely possible crimes to commit.

Our fridges are online? Who controls that temperature. Maybe entire grocery stores will find their food either freezer burnt or spoiling.

Our thermostats? Well, it’d be a shame if somebody globally altered the temperature floor of the device to be boiling point.

Our cars are smart now? The literal first game had a chapter that merely took over traffic lights, it would only be easier to make the cars simply lock their users in and drive into each other.

Most data centers I’ve been to, even in multimillion dollar orgs, have dozens and dozens of servers protecting websites and the backup management processes are all handled by a single laptop that has a sticky note that says “do not close laptop” in a room that is virtually untouched for weeks at a time, except to check the temperatures of the cooling systems in the same room. As security, I can say I would have no idea if someone who came in for server maintenance was doing something suspicious or not, and even third party maintenance staff are often left to their own devices to work on perceived problems. Sure, they’re on camera, but so what if the next three people who work in the room are all going to be more third party maintenance staff?

Knowing that full well, I’m never going to buy a smart bidet for fear that it will end up with its water pressure settings altered, turning it into a power washer that ass blasts me to death.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hiiii hi could i request some headcanons for Nolan and/or Allen with a small but strong s/o? Like not nearly on their level but still strong enough to pick them up if that make sense,, oh also ftm chubby reader plsssss

Nolan Grayson and Allen the Alien x strong chubby ftm reader

Headcanons

I started cheering when they buffed Allen up, because, why wouldn’t I, look at him. This is set somewhere in season 2, but before they’re locked up.

Nolan Grayson

Viltrum seems like a very cut and rough people, so things like being trans doesn’t seem like something they would have. So, when you guys started dating, there were a lot of things you would need to teach him.

It would take a while, but he would also never actually misgender you, Nolan just wouldn’t really get the concept of gender in the way it is on earth. He also wouldn’t really get why you might want to bind or get surgeries, but as long as it makes you happy, then whose he to judge.

Nolan gets really angry if somebody misgenders you maliciously. Honestly, knowing Nolan, he probably got mad even if someone did it on accident, so you would have to reel him back in before anything bad happened.

He also wouldn’t mind you being chubby. Since everyone on Viltrum are all muscular and built, being chubby would be something only seen in other species. It’s probably something viltrumites would find attractive, without ever being verbal about it, since it’s something they could never achieve themselves.

It isn’t hard to be smaller than Nolan, since he’s so tall and built. It’s also not really something Nolan cares much about, since your height doesn’t play into how he feels about you. But that’s how he feels most of your physical appearance after he gets to know you.

He would be pleasantly surprised that you could pick him up, but it wouldn’t knock him off his feet since being strong is so normal for him. He would try to see your limits though, there’s no way around that.

Allen the Alien

Unlike Nolan, Allen would know a lot about the different genders and sexualities across the galaxy, since that was probably part of his training. Sure, you might have to explain the specifics of earth, but that’s just earth in general when it comes to Allen.

Your gender or how you present yourself wouldn’t matter one bit to Allen, since he sees so many different people across the galaxy all the time. This is also because he doesn’t conform to earths standards, so you can be exactly yourself around him and Allen would never question or doubt you.

He wouldn’t cause a fight if somebody misgendered you, at least in the beginning. If they did it maliciously, then he might straighten up and give a good ol “not cool man”, but if the person starts to get physical, then Allen would shut it down.

Like your gender and how you present yourself wouldn’t matter, your weight wouldn’t matter to Allen either. As long as you are happy, he doesn’t care. Plus, you being chubby also makes you softer to cuddle, which would be a win for him.

Like Nolan, it wouldn’t be hard to be smaller than Allen, especially after he gets buffed up later on. You are far from the only person who he has to look down at, so it wouldn’t bother Allen. He would go out of his way to tease you though, just because he can.

Allen would be excited that you could carry him with ease, which just ends up with you having to carry him all the time after he figures it out. There isn’t really a reason for this, it just makes him feel loved when you do so. He would also use the knowledge that you are strong to convince you to train. Not to fight, maybe a little, but mainly to protect yourself.

[unhetalia]

Tony and Alfred best friendism for the tragic reason that in my opinion, everyone who has ever loved Alfred has also resented him.

There's Matthew, whose deep love for Alfred comes with an equally deep resentment of the attention and supposed adoration Alfred gets. He's equally likely to punch someone for maligning his brother or be the one doing the maligning. He can't seem to stop the part of himself that loves seeing his brother brought low.

There's Arthur, whose love for Alfred comes hand in hand with his anger about Alfred's Revolution. He cares about Alfred but also takes pleasure in seeing Alfred humiliated if he can say 'it wouldn't have happened if you had never left me'.

There's Kiku, whose love for Alfred comes with baggage. Whether or not Alfred was involved with big decisions during World War II, there's the simple fact that who Alfred represents has hurt Kiku's people. Maybe they're completely over it, maybe Kiku doesn't blame Alfred, but even then, sometimes Kiku is just tired of Alfred, the differences between them not always charming.

There's Ivan, whose love could be obsession and whose obsession could be love, who looks at this Nation who never suffered like he had to and gets the urge to crush that innocence even as he wants to protect it.

Tony doesn't feel any of that towards Alfred. To him, Alfred isn't the attention he gets from others, or a singular event in time, or the differences between them, or the things he didn't suffer. He's not his government's decisions. He's the guy who helped him rebuild his spaceship, then got him so addicted to burgers and video games he eventually decided to make Earth home. He's the guy who showed him ice skating and surfing and the joys of things that aren't high tech.

Who knows, maybe Tony was an outcast in his own home planet, but I just can't help but feel a lot about the idea that Alfred, who is so affable, connects most with somebody who isn't even from the same planet as him. Never experienced an uncomplicated love until it crash lands in his country.

[super-paper]

I feel like Toga and All for One have many similarities, but I am unable to articulate as to why I feel this way.

I think it's safe to say that AFO is an intentional foil to Himiko, Tenko, and Touya at this point! I've discussed how he shares body motifs with all three of them before, but his backstory more or less cemented that he's supposed to be read as "the worst possible extreme and the worst possible conclusion" to each of the trio's respective origins and overall stories.

As for how Himiko and AFO foil each other, specifically:

Cannibalism as a metaphor for Not cannibalism

Let's get the obvious point outta the way first, lol.

AFO and Himiko are both established as children that society wasn't prepared or willing to care for-- AFO was born during the advent of quirks where "paranormal" children like him were treated as diseased and shunned (or worse) by the rest of society, while Himiko was born during an "era of peace" where civilians are expected to maintain said peace through endlessly conformity and complacency-- outside of pro-heroism, civilians are essentially expected to role-play as though they've returned to "normalcy" (i.e. pre-quirk society) and the fear of being labeled as "abnormal" (despite living in a post-paranormal society) drives them to shun those who can't easily conform.

Both AFO and Himiko's "first sin" involves the "consumption of their fellow humans," which they both commit when they are too young to fully understand what they're doing-- and both acts of consumption were initially tied to their attempts to fulfill a basic human "need" that wasn't being provided for. Himiko drank the blood of a friend whose smile she envied after years of having her own smile called "creepy," AFO was a starving newborn whose mother couldn't provide him milk or protection and whose cries were ultimately ignored by everyone else. When Himiko takes someone's blood and "becomes someone else", she finally feels good "about herself". When AFO takes his mom's quirk and uses it to drink her blood, he no longer feels hungry and no longer has any reason to cry out for help/attention. Thus, AFO & Himiko ultimately learn and internalize that in order to fulfill their own neglected needs, they need to take from others.

Something something re: "the catharsis that comes with finally """"embracing your true nature'"""" so you can finally become what your family always feared you'd be (POV: you are 14 years old and utterly doomed by the narrative) (and so is the main object of your ""affection"") (puberty is a bitch ain't it!)" something something

To Himiko, the consumption of others becomes a way to "become somebody else"-- someone the world will treat more kindly than they treat "Toga Himiko." She feels the urge to completely drain the blood of anyone who has the life and relationships that she desperately wants for herself. Before that, drinking blood was simply her way of expressing admiration/affection and fell under the banner of MHA's definition of "pure love" (i.e. love as imitation). Himiko showed no inclination towards completely draining the blood of those she loves until her psychotic break with Saito, and she is notably able to restrain her supposed "urges" around the LOV despite loving them deeply. The "urge to drain those she loves completely" isn't actually tied to her quirk, but to her desire to "become someone else."

To AFO, the consumption of others became yet another way to rob them of their autonomy-- by taking away "a part of them" and forcibly turning it into a part himself in the most base, unsettling, and crude way possible. Before that, his consumption of others was simply driven by his instinct to survive. AFO's "urge to take" is tied to the preconception that no one will provide for him or look at him UNLESS he is taking something from them-- like Himiko, his quirk merely makes it easier for him to act on urges that don't actually stem from the quirk itself. AFO's warped perception of other people balloons wildly out of control by the time he reaches his teens, and finally cumulates in him ""eating"" the glowing baby out of jealousy:

*Kills someone over their follower count* Man, AFO is nvr gonna beat the "was a tiktok e-girl in his previous life" allegations

AFO and Himiko both "consume" other people out of jealousy and a desire to make up for what they feel they lack as individuals-- but an important distinction between the two of them, I feel, is that Himiko's consumption of others is ultimately driven by her desire to connect with other people while AFO's consumption is instead based on fear + mistrust of others. It's the difference between "Consumption as wanting to become a part of someone and become a part of the world they live in (+ consumption as a way to become a part of the world by living vicariously through someone else)" and "consumption as forcibly making someone a part of you and forcibly taking away their connection to the world."

Speaking of "consuming someone who has traits you envy in an attempt to make those traits your own" *pointedly looks at AFO's dynamic with Tomura* ...........yearp.

It's only after Himiko's human needs are finally addressed by Ochako, that Himiko learns the desire to "give" rather than take. I feel that this is probably one of the core take aways of the series while more or less being the "end goal" of the OFAFO plot-- "endless giving without ever taking" (All Might becoming the number one hero at the steep price of himself and Izuku almost destroying himself in the process of trying to emulate All Might) and "endless taking without ever giving" (AFO full stop, as well as society itself towards both the heroes and villains) are both extremes that only cause more people to get hurt. There has to be reciprocity. It has to be "One for All -AND- All for One." Give -AND- Take.

Side note: Himiko's favorite food being pomegranates also strikes me as ironic when you remember that Hori is gigantic mythology nerd-- In both art and mythology, it's not uncommon for pomegranates to be used as a visual for "flesh" and for their consumption to be used as a stand in for cannibalism. In greek mythology, pomegranates are known as the "fruit of the dead", and are believed to have originated from the blood of Adonis. There is also the legend of Persephone, who was cursed to remain within the underworld for six months each year as the price for consuming six pomegranate seeds while in hell.

The Buddhist legend of Hairiti/Kishimojin also stands out for framing pomegranates as a "cure" for cannibalism, by offering them to man-eating demons in lieu of flesh:

As for AFO-- it's been pointed out by several different people that he shares several parallels with the greek titan, Cronus, who is most famous for having devoured his own children whole.

With that in mind, I feel like the act of consuming blood has an almost mythological edge to it for these two (outside the obvious reality-based social stigma of it lol)-- the act of "eating" others, regardless of intent, is what condemned both AFO and Himiko to hell. But Himiko is offered a way out of that hell and ultimately finds salvation in allowing herself to be "consumed" in turn, while AFO just doubles down on eating every rando beefcake he can get his hands on while giggling like a school girl (and yet, when the chance to eat Toshi finally presents itself, he totally fails to capitalize on it. mfer can't even "cannibalism as a metaphor freaky gay sex with your dramaturgical foil" right smh 😤).

As an aside, when I say "people generally read into MHA too literally and expect entirely too literal conclusions for what is largely a fantastical story about abuse/trauma/coping mechanisms," how MHA depicts ""cannibalism"" through Himiko is actually one of the examples that comes to mind lol. So many people think that death or jail is the only appropriate conclusion for Himiko's character because it's the "only realistic conclusion" like they aren't reading a story where people have tape dispensers for arms lmfao.

OMNOMNOM-- (On Mouths)

:D

Not much to elaborate on here, mouths (and smiles) are AFO and Himiko's shared body motif in MHA's narrative. AFO's mouth is his only distinguishable facial feature during Parts 1 & 2, Himiko's smile/mouth is her defining feature and how others perceive it is a source of trauma for her. Her villain outfit is notable in how it covers her mouth/hides her smile while also resembling AFO's act 1 mask:

*squish*

During the final war, Himiko puts her mask on and hides her mouth immediately after being rejected by Izuku. This is symbolic of a lot of different things, but mostly, it drives home how she is no longer interested in talking things out and has "fully embraced being a villain." Ochako understands what's at stake and spends the rest of the fight trying to "take the mask back off"-- she understands there is something behind Himiko's villain mask that she needs to save.

Meanwhile, Toshi smashes past AFO's mask during Kamino and finds there is simply nothing underneath it-- reinforcing the idea that AFO has made "being a villain" his entire identity and that there is nothing worth saving behind his mask. However, Toshi was also the one who "smashed" AFO's facial features away in the first place. AFO definitely deserved getting his head popped, but in the context of MHA as a whole, I feel like AFO and Toshi's dynamic only highlights the overall tragedy of the hero/villain system and why it's a good thing that the new generation is starting to challenge it.

It is worth mentioning that mouths are frequently used to mask and dehumanize within the context of MHA's narrative, but this isn't something exclusive to AFO and Himiko ('sup Toshi) (''sup Tomura).

(I don't actually have anything else to add here lol)

Demon Child, Demon Lord

AFO and Himiko also stand out in how they're both framed as having been "born bad"-- Himiko by her parents, AFO by himself and the narration. Discerning readers already know that this is a crock of shit.

Child for One sees the Demon Lord being surrounded by people who provide for him out of fear while he's stuck living in isolation and squalor with Yoichi, and decides the only appropriate reaction to this is to make a children's comic book his entire personality (he's just like me fr)-- He embraces the idea of becoming a demon and shedding off his humanity, and immediately starts self-styling himself off a generic biz-caz corporate shmuck (lmfao).

Unlike AFO, Himiko resists the label of "demon" as much as she can-- she styles herself as "a cute high school girl" despite being a middle school drop out because she realizes the world will treat her a little more kindly this way (but only a little). Himiko longs to be seen as human, but is made to feel like a monster instead.

What I find interesting is that AFO himself outright admits that he lacked the ego/awareness necessary to "consciously" take Yoichi's quirk when they were children-- yet, both he and the narration continuously frame the siphoning of his mother's life, quirk, and Yoichi's nutrients as though they were intentional, malicious acts. AFO leans into this framing and builds his whole identity around it until that framing is finally pulled away from him literal seconds before his death.

Being "human" to Himiko means going back to a time where she was loved and accepted unconditionally. Being "human" to AFO means going back to being that screaming infant who no one would look at.

Like it or not, everyone is human in the end little dude.

Other Miscellaneous Similarities:

This one doesn't require much explanation-- through prioritizing their own needs above all else, AFO and Himiko both dehumanize other people the same way other people dehumanize them. Himiko is still a child, however-- and she is ultimately saved by her desire to be accepted and form genuine connections with others. Her final fight with Ochako is as much about getting Himiko to see Ochako as "human" as it is Ochako acknowledging Himiko's humanity. Once again, it's all about reciprocity/give-and-take.

""join our family and let me raise you! :D *hard cut to a burning orphanage*" AFO being genuinely puzzled that ppl aren't jumping at the chance to raised by him is my favorite running gag in mha.

Both AFO and Himiko also have a habit of being.... inappropriately intimate with other people, often to the point where whatever "relationship" they have with others exists almost entirely in their own head. Himiko calls Tsuyu by her first name and gets told to cut it out because this is a privilege Tsuyu reserves for her friends, and Himiko immediately interprets this as Tsuyu offering to be friends. AFO calls his worshippers his "friends" and his cult "his family" and asks that his young victims call him "uncle" like he's a kindly family friend and not the dude who is blackmailing them into betraying all their friends.

Also, neva 4get.....

To think AFO could have also had fun yuri times if he had just stopped being a dickhead for five seconds. Tragic. 😔

(/j)