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letoasai · 8 months ago

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Will work for food ~part 3

Part 2 ~ Master Post

Tim was beyond irritated. He could have been on a date. Okay, he wasn’t sure if they were dates but they could have been. Damn it. He’d continued to summon Phantom weekly and they’d gone to lunch every time. Pizza. Barbecue. An amazing ramen place. They went to a music festival and visited all the food vendors.

Things had been going smoothly. He’d been learning more about the Infinite Realm and about Danny himself and was having a great time despite his meddling siblings trying to butt in at every turn. Dick was a repeat offender but Duke, Cass and even Damien had all attempted to ambush him. It was lucky Danny thought it was hilarious and helped Tim avoid them.

The last two weeks had been a disaster though. He’d had a four day mission with his own team, and had to deal with his friends poking fun at him while trying not to get shot at. Superboy had vastly exaggerated his interaction with Danny to the others!

By the time he’d gotten back to Gotham, he’d had a small backlog of cases to get through. It was really cutting into both his CEO work and his freaking lunches with a really cute guy who just so happened to be an immortal king of a realm.

Just when he thought he’d have a little time in the next day or two, Scarecrow was back on his bullshit with his fear toxins. Hadn’t they just done this recently? How had he gotten out of Arkham so fast?

Tim was woozy, having taken a breath of the toxins and gotten a swift injury to his leg in the process. He’d say it was luck that he already had an antidote on him to fear toxins, but they all carried one with them at all times. He wasn’t freaking out but he could have done without the lightheadedness. It always briefly had him wondering if he’d gotten a concussion, but it was just a side effect. Usually.

“You good, babybird?” He heard Nightwings voice through comms. He probably thought he was whispering and had no idea how loud he actually was because of the chaos of the night.

“Never better.” He grumbled, trying to shake off a chill while limping. There was no one around to see at the moment so it was fine. “I’m headed your way.”

“Good, Scarecrows around here somewhere. Slippery nut job.” Nightwing said.

“Pay attention.” Batman’s voice ran through their comms. “He divided us on purpose. This isn’t his usual pattern.”

There was grumbling across the line, everyone having figured that out already but B wouldn’t be B if he didn’t state the obvious for them some nights.

Tim grappled from one street to the next, hearing sirens far enough in the distance that they couldn’t have been for this. When he landed safely, he pressed his palms to his masked eyes. The throbbing in his head was so annoying, but the jack hammering of his heart was…something he probably shouldn’t ignore but he was.

“Not a concussion, Red.” He muttered to himself. “Just a stupid sore leg and Scarecrow’s stupid toxins filtering out.” There was always the option that it was a new strain and his antidote didn’t work as well but he wasn’t hallucinating his worst fears so maybe not.

Trying to shake off his limp, Tim wandered across a nearly empty parking lot. There were a few abandoned cars, most of them missing their tires and on blocks. He kept an ear out, listening for anything that didn’t belong but it was Gotham, and even in the dead of night there were noises. Traffic, generators, air conditioners, nocturnal animals. There was always ambient noise, the key was ignoring the background hums and focusing on the shuffling goons. The problem he was having now however, was the faint ringing in his ears.

“Red?” Nightwing's voice drifted across comms again. “I don’t see you yet. Something happen?”

“No i’m…” Tim swallowed, suddenly parched and feeling overall…bad. He tilted his head back to check his surroundings and realized he’d gone the wrong way. How disoriented was he? “Okay, i might not be okay.”

“Red Robin?” Batman’s voice was calm but urgent. “Do you need backup.”

Tim almost stumbled but caught himself. “I feel like shit. I think there was something new in the toxins my antidote didn’t take care of.”

“Oh, how wonderful. You figured it out so quickly.”

Tim tensed, whirling around to face Scarecrow. Tim hated to think he’d been snuck up on but the rogue was sitting on one of the ripped apart cars in the lot.

“I’m coming to you!” Nightwing said firmly. “On my way!”

Tim waved Scarecrow’s words away cockily and only just noticed the way he trembled. “You’re losing your touch. Not a single, horrifying hallucination.”

The rogue just chuckled. “Oh no, tonight’s a bit of a tester. Something a little different.”

“That right?” Fuck.

“Oh indeed, you don't mind being a guinea pig, do you? This particular batch didn’t have the hallucinogens, no. What it is doing is creeping through your system, forcing your body to activate all too real symptoms of fear.”

“Seems a little corny for you.” Tim said, knowing the others were listening carefully.

“And you're shaking.” Scarecrow’s huge grin grew broader. “What else, little bird? Over heating? Or are you freezing? Heart pounding? Knees weak? Feeling a fresh wave of tears building? Do let me know. It’s for science.”

Tim tsked. He wasn’t about to cry but his throat was tight. It was almost like he was having trouble taking in a breath.

“Somehow, a gas that makes people sick is so much less impressive than your normal routine.” Tim said, his trembling getting worse, but he was positive he was being tracked by at least some of the others. He just had to stall until Nightwing got there. “A couple of phantom pains the best you could come up with?”

That wasn’t his best quip but Scarecrow took the bait anyway. “Oh no, it’s very real. Your body might not know why it’s so panicked, but it’s pulling out all the stops. Who knows, maybe your heart could just stop.”

The problem with a lot of Gotham rogues, was the fact that they were actually intelligent people. The man likely could have gone on and on, but he jumped up and moved onto the offensive. He had a pitchfork tonight, and no one could say the man was original.

“Now just stay still!”

Tim dodged, the pitchfork surprisingly leaving quite the hole in the concrete. It should have been a simple dance and disarm kind of fight, but Tim’s shaking just got worse, and his stomach started to hurt, and his heart really was trying to beat out of his chest. It really was like he was terrified, the chills of his body making him sweat.

“No ever actually stays still when someone’s running at them like a lunatic.” Tim said, but the words were almost hard to get out. He wasn’t choking but his throat was so clogged.

The sass cost him though, and he was hit in his already wounded leg. It sent him rolling across the parking lot and Scarecrow just laughed.

“Oh, what fun. It’s a shame though, i really miss the screaming of my patients visually seeing their worst nightmare, i’ll have to combine them.”

Tim legs nearly gave out from under him when he tried to get up. Injury and the damn shaking leaving him unstable. He’d had to stay crouching, pulling out his staff to dig into the ground in front of him to hold himself up.

“Regardless of my fears, you’re not one of them.” Tim wheezed, wondering if the hallucinogens were actually kicking in when a mist appeared. It was a frigid kind of cold that left ice crystals on all nearby metals.

“Oh, we’ll see, little bird. I have plenty for your entire family. In fact, i’d love to see what a second dose would do to you.”

“Nearly there.” Batman said, but there was a hiss to his tone that said he knew it wasn’t going to be a timely arrival.

“This isn’t good…” Tim whispered, watching Scarecrow pull out a small canister, and he was too wobbling to put more distance between them.

With a laugh, Scarecrow hurled it towards him. “Don’t be afraid to inhale!”

Tim jerked back using his bo-staff as a crutch to give him some kind of momentum but he watched as the canister exploded midair and…something was strange. The cloud of chemicals had been clear for one second before disappearing. There was no time to worry about how quickly it could have been caught on a breeze when even Scarecrow himself looked confused.

“So fear is your niche.”

Tim shuddered, eyes going wide as his head jerked towards the sound of the voice. The gentle reverb of the words slicing through him. His solace was that the ire he heard wasn’t directed at him.

Danny was there. Well, King Phantom was there, having appeared out of thin air. It was the first time Tim had seen that form in a while but his friend was just as hauntingly ethereal as Tim remembered.

He dropped the canister, and Tim had at least a partial answer. Whatever had gone wrong with the toxins had been Phantom’s doing.

The king stared down at Scarecrow, but Tim couldn’t see his face from where he now sat. “I know a thing or two about fear.” Danny whispered.

“Impossible.” Scarecrow spat, puffing up like a cat. None of the Gotham rogues liked their plans being disturbed and by a newcomer no less. “What did you do?! Did you inhale my toxins!? Absorb them!? Fool! You’ll be their next victim! You won’t be so relaxed for long! Even Red Robin’s a terrified mess!”

“Red Robin! Report!” Batman’s voice was firm in his ear.

“Relaxed?” Phantom mused, deceivingly calm. He’d stiffened, head turning just a little as if checking on Tim, but he never truly took his attention off the rogue. “No, not relaxed. Angry. As delicious as your parlor tricks were, i take offense to finding you hovering like a predator over my friend.”

He rose into the air a few feet, and only then did Tim realize that he had been standing instead of floating, well, he was floating now.

Scarecrow just tsked, unaware of the power in front of him. “Meta? Alien? It doesn’t matter. That combination of chemicals-”

“Was delicious.” Danny repeated.

Tim scooted away, his leg throbbing. “Phantom.” He muttered, finally answering Batman through strangled breaths. “Phantom’s here.”

“Regardless, the offering was not enough to pacify me.” Danny muttered, the black crown over his head spinning.

Scarecrow actually began laughing, it started with a chuckle but then it grew into something loud and boisterous. “You’re barely more than a child, are you sure you’re ready for this? The hero game is crowded here in Gotham, and you don’t look like any bird or bat i’ve ever seen.”

Tim watched the way Danny’s hood swayed to the side as he tilted his head. “I am no bird, nor am i a bat.”

“I’m sure you’ve impressed your little friends with your meta abilities, but it means nothing in a city like this. Though i see you have your talents. How are you unaffected by my toxins?”

Ice erupted from the ground, enguling Scarecrow’s legs an inch at a time, creeping up his body without a hint of warning. “You misunderstand.” Danny whispered. “I am not here for a conversation. I’m here for my friend, and to teach you that dabbling in fear is childsplay to a being like myself.”

Tim couldn’t see… Danny was facing away from him but his galaxy cloak billowed out around him without even the slightest breeze. There were shadows…? Something? Tim couldn’t see though he tried. What he could see was Scarecrow, and even with his face covered, his body language betrayed his growing horror.

“You can not frighten the dead.” Danny said, but in a voice that was decidedly not his own.

Scarecrow started screaming, a desperate sound that had him thrashing in place, the ice now well around his chest. Tim didn’t know what the rogue was seeing but if scaring someone to death was really a thing…

“Phantom.” Tim tried to raise his voice and had to close his eyes to shove away the sudden lightheadedness. He was shivering. “W..we good…?”

Whatever was going on paused, and Danny seemed to reign himself in. The strange movement of his cloak stopped and Tim briefly made a mental note to ask Danny what kind of other forms he might have.

Danny turned to him, looking normal, though he hadn’t seen his white hair in a while. “I forget sometimes…” He commented, voice even softer than usual. “The living are so fragile.”

Scarecrow was still screaming, but his head was lulling back and he looked seconds away from passing out. He was held in place by the ice, and obviously wasn’t going anywhere.

“Yeah, we’re like that.” Tim muttered, shoulders slumping now that the danger was taken care of, it didn’t stop the way his body twitched. His stomach hurt so bad.

Danny landed by his side silently, a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Leg’s a little messed up but it’ll heal. The… the toxins in my system are going to have to run their course, unless i can work out how to s..somehow come up with a new antidote before then. St..stupid…”

Danny cocked his head to the side, wispy white hairs floating around his face. It was unfair how attractive he was. “Want me to eat it?”

Tim heard a confused “Wut?” from his comm. Spoiler summing up that comment nicely.

“I can absorb emotion. Because it can sustain us. I just think of it as a different way to eat.” Danny said. Tim breathed a sigh of relief that that half ghost had been around him long enough to know that he liked explanations when he didn’t understand something.

“That’s w..why the fear toxins didn’t affect you.”

“Mhmm.” Danny hummed. “Gotta get that recipe though. That was tasty. Frighty would love it.

Tim sighed, feeling another wave of nausea and he…was pretty sure he was seeing colors he shouldn’t be. “You always leave m…me with more questions than answers. My s..symptoms aren’t emotional. Chem..chemically induced.” And fuck this was so embarrassing in front of the King of the Infinite Realm.

Danny hummed, and if Tim wasn’t mistaken, he sounded amused. He leaned closer, fingers touching Tim’s face and all at once, he started to feel better. His shaking stopped almost immediately and he was left to assume that despite the chemicals he’d inhaled, Danny was still able to take them from him. Honestly, scientifically it made no sense whatsoever.

At least his stomach didn’t hurt anymore.

“What do i owe you for this one?” Tim asked with a weary smile. Other than a sore leg, the other symptoms seemed to disappear.

“I got two separate fear meals. I’m good.” Danny chuckled, helping Tim to his feet only seconds before Batman and Nightwing arrived.

Nightwing made a beeline for Tim, grabbing him in the tightest hug while Batman was instead looking Scarecrow over who had, in fact, passed out at some point.

“Wing, watch it! Watch it! The leg!”

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Nightwing clung anyway. He then held a hand out to Danny. “Thank you so so much, your Majesty! Your timing is to die for!”

Tim knew he was in trouble when Danny took Nightwings hand to shake, and his eyes lit up. “Wing…” Tim said in a warning tone that went unheard.

“No big deal. Visiting Red Robin really lifts my spirits.” Danny said with a small grin, fangs a little larger than in his living form.

Nightwing tipped his head back and laughed. “Yes!”

“No…” Tim groaned, shoving away from his brother.

“In all seriousness, i’m glad i came.” Danny said. “I wasn’t sure if you were trying to summon me or not so i thought i’d poke my head in and see.”

“I…didn’t realize i did?” Tim muttered, checking his utility belt. “I do have the spell circle but…”

Danny shrugged “Well you said ‘Phantom’ at some point. I thought it sounded a little different but well…i didn’t think it would hurt to double check. I’m glad i was able to help.”

“We appreciate it, your Majesty.” Batman commented in a gruff tone. He very much did not appreciate it but couldn’t be mad about someone saving Tim when he wouldn’t have gotten there in time.“What exactly did you do? This ice is-”

“Oh, right.” Phantom waved his hand flippantly and the ice disappeared. Scarecrow dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. “He’ll probably suffer nightmares for the next week but he’ll shake it off.”

“I have… so many questions…” Tim repeated.

Danny just looked at him fondly. “You always do.”

“I’ll take him in.” Batman said. “Red Robin, return for medical treatment.”

“I’m fine, B.” Tim said, but he was getting a look. “Grab whatever he has on him so we can make new antidotes.”

Batman grunted, and it was possibly lucky that the rogue was already knocked out.

“Hey, hey, King Phantom-” Nightwing began.

“Just Phantom is fine.”

Nightwing was positively giddy. “What do you say to four a.m. waffles? I know you ate the fear or whatever but you deserve a proper thank you meal.”

There was something so boyishly charming about the way Danny smiled. His constellation freckles even seemed to twinkle. “As long as they don’t bite back. I’d like that.”

“Concerning.” Tim hummed, testing his weight on his leg. It wasn’t broken but he wouldn’t be grappling anywhere else tonight.

“Great!” Nightwing said, tapping his own comm. “Spoiler will meet us there!”

Danny glanced at Tim. “Do uh.. You go…” He gestured to them. “Dressed like this?”

“All the time.”

“Okay then.” Danny said, and the only adjustment he made was to reach up above him and grab his crown. It disappeared from view.

“So many questions.” Tim heaved a sigh. “I guess breakfast would be nice. We haven’t done breakfast yet.”

Danny nodded once. “At least i feel like i earned it this time. You’ve just been treating me so much lately.” He sounded as close to shy as Tim had ever heard and it was killing him.

Ugh, now he was doing the death puns…

“You don’t have to earn your food with us.” Tim said softly.

“RR is right, you know?” Nightwing beamed. “You should totally get him to bring you home one night, Phantom. Best home cooking you’ve ever had.”

Danny hummed, “It’s a low bar, but that could be…nice.”

“We’ll discuss it over waffles!” Nightwing just…decided.

Tim shook his head, not sure how he felt about these two getting along but Danny was smiling and Tim was a sucker for those smiles.

“Alright.” Tim said, stifling a yawn. “My leg is stiff so one of you is gonna have to help me get there, but let’s go eat.”

Danny’s green eyes just glowed with mirth. “No problem.”

#dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dead tired #tim drake #red robin #danny phantom #Nightwing #Batman #scarecrow #repaid with food #i don't actually know a damn thing about Scarecrow

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sirenscriptures · 9 months ago

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pleasure waves (remastered)

pairing: tengen x hinatsuru x makio x suma x reader

synopsis: after your honeymoon with tengen starts to come to a close, he and his wives plan to make your last night on the beautiful shores of cancun memorable… 4.4k

warnings/notes: fem ! reader, fivesome, soft to rough sex, LOTS of praise and admiration, semi-public sex, size difference/kink, endearment/pet names, tooth-rottingly sweet aftercare, outdoor sex, passionate sex.

* if you recognize this, it’s because it’s a rewrite of an old collab piece from one of my old blogs <3 this may or may not be a mini series in the future, just depends on what feedback i receive ! *

a warm, kissing breeze passed over you as you stepped out onto the shore’s opening. all the noise and commotion coming from behind you began to melt into the soothing sound of the waves pushing over the sand.

the sky was stunning, clouds gradient with purple, pink and orange hues. meanwhile, the sun was piercing as it gradually sunk below the horizon, encasing the entire beach area in a warm, dim haze.

now away from the crowded resort, you felt your body relax. your feet planted into the freshly cooling sand, the thin cloth of your bathing suit cover freely dancing within the gentle breeze. with the heat slowly dying down, the near stifling warmth in the air began to fade into a soothing coolness.

behind you back at the large courtyard, there was a bustling crowd watching a large fire show being performed on the side stage. large wand-shaped poles whirled all over like flags around the flashy performers, earning excited cheers as they tossed them up and the flames continued to swirl over them.

at some point, you had lost hinatsuru somewhere in the crowd. the two of you had just gotten back early from a dinner with tengen, makio and suma, and wanted to get a head start on enjoying the last bits of the resort on your last night here.

even though the place was beautiful in and out, you had to admit the wide clearing the shore offered right outside of the resort was your personal favorite part. even if there were people all around, the serenity of the crashing waves and clear winds made it seem like pure solitude for you.

“there you are.” a familiar soft voice from behind you silenced your thoughts.

turning around, your eyes met with hinatsuru again. her thick hair flowed down her shoulders, warm violet eyes locked upon you now. seeing her in front of you now caused you to smile.

she was dressed in a lilac and white floral pattern bathing suit cover, one that was a similar style to yours. underneath, the wind kicked up to reveal her dark purple two piece that hugged her body perfectly. truly, she was a sight to behold. as she always was.

“i was certain i lost you in there,” she took your hand into hers, gently grasping it, gaze turning to the sight of the now dying sun on the shore in front of the both of you. “good thing i know this area well by now.” she chuckled.

you admired the softness of her palm intertwining with yours. the two of you stood together, watching the gentle waves roll by as night fell over the sky.

slowly, her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to her. the rhythmic, whispering crashes of the shore kept both of you practically hypnotized in your embrace.

it was amazing to think such clear waters and light air could have such a beautiful affect on you and all the people here. it was almost as if this entire shore, this entire city was something alike to a dream. which made sense, due to all the people who came here every year for vacation.

yet, your reason to be here felt so much more special than anything else. being married, especially to tengen and three beautiful ladies, was a different type of love.

it felt deeper, and certainly more adventurous than any other relationship you’d been apart of. even after the wedding, which was relatively private, it was a lot for you to get situated with.

even though you felt like you were finally breaking through the ice and getting used to being with all four of them, there was still something lingering inside you. something that just wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times you tried. a nagging feeling of what you could best describe as anxiety.

even if you did feel good and relaxed around them, especially during this amazing week vacation, there was always something you felt you were unnecessarily worried about. as if something was missing, or just not right within your mind.

while you knew it could just be overlapping thoughts, it still didn’t stop you from lying wide awake at night, even with both of tengen’s arms snaked around you, his other wives sound asleep next to you as well.

it took you a few moments to notice hina staring at you as you zoned out into your thoughts, a visibly concerned look dressing her expression.

her hands slipped up beneath your chin, hands directing your face to look at her.

“are you alright?” she asked, feeling how the heat increased in your cheeks. “you’ve barely said a word since dinner.”

you let out a small sigh. it’d be no good to just nod and say yes at this point. she knew you too well for that by now.

“i just haven’t felt my best, specifically today.” you admitted.

her hands lowered to grasp your own, tilting her head curiously. “how so, love?”

your eyes averted, glimpsing the early sprout of the full moon deep in the horizon ahead of you. it was near splintering to try and voice your feelings, yet you knew you had to. otherwise, this feeling would only fester onwards.

“well, i know its early on…but i don’t really feel like i’m really married to you.”

hinatsuru’s taken aback expression that followed your words was what made you panic instantly.

“n-not that i don’t want to be married to you! that’s not it at all! i just don’t feel completely–”

you were interrupted by her laughter, hina playfully swatting at you. she abruptly cleared her throat and met your confused expression with a soothing smile.

“[name], you’re too cute..” she murmured, stroking your now burning face with familiar tenderness. even if it was amusing, she remained with a certain seriousness, even with such a gentle personality.

“you know that’s normal, right?” she said, thumb gently stroking the surface of your cheekbone. “i can tell you, since i felt that exact same way when i first married tengen.”

you shot her a confused look. out of what you’d seen, her and tengen’s bond seemed to be so deep. even though he adored every single one of you the same, he and hina were another kind of bond that you didn’t even fully understand when first getting together with them. then again, you figured that would come with time.

“i never quite knew why, but it never felt real.” she said, turning to look at the dazzling moon above you now, its light glittering upon the water.

“it felt a little isolating and even scary at first, but that was normal at the time.” she turned back, still smiling at you. “you’re still so new to this. so don’t stress yourself out for not feeling all there.”

it was like a completely different weight had lifted off of you now that she’d said that. you couldn’t help but smile at her, your hands intertwining together again. it all made so much sense now, thankfully.

“there’s my girls!” you heard a familiar, booming voice call from behind you both.

turning around, you glimpsed tengen and makio walking towards you both, suma dashing ahead of them through the sand to come greet you.

suma’s eyes were lit up with that same fiery excitement as she ran towards you both, arms bundling you and hina in a large embrace. the three of you were left giggling at the sight, struggling to recompose yourselves.

though, suma pulled back with a slight pouty look on her face.

“now why did you head off without us?” she asked, hands now on her hips. “you know this is a honeymoon, meaning we’re supposed to be spending time together!”

“oh, give them a break, suma. can you blame them? this view is incredible!” makio exclaimed, eyes wide with amazement as she looked at the sky. “plus, we’ve had all week together.”

suma admired the view with a smile. “i guess you’re right, then.” she rolled her eyes playfully.

“well, it's our turn to enjoy it now!” she chuckled, running ahead to enjoy the rush of the shore alongside makio, where they proceeded to remove their bathing suit covers and venture deeper into the shore together.

you glanced back behind you, eyes meeting with tengen’s. he stood in front of you and hina, that same handsome smile across his lips. his longer hair was barely past his shoulders, giving him that naturally scruffy look you loved so much.

he leaned down suddenly, hands bringing your face to his, kissing you warmly. the gesture admittedly took you by surprise, the warmth rushing to your face again.

tengen pulled away gently, eyes still staring into yours with a soft intensity, paired with something else you couldn’t quite read at the moment.

“how are you?” he asked quietly, thumb gently rubbing against your cheek.

“i’m good.” you murmured in response, trying to suppress the tremble in your voice.

beside you, hinatsuru was smiling tenderly at you two. even if you were still struggling to find your true place of balance with them, she trusted it would all melt away tonight. after all, they had all arranged for this night to be all about you, the new wife.

but, you didn’t need to know that. not yet, at least.

the whole time the other two wives messed about in the shore, tengen had you wrapped in his arms as hina laid snuggled beside you both. being the new wife, they wanted to make sure you were prioritized, especially on the last night of the honeymoon.

the sound of the gentle waves paired with the darkness of the sky was so soothing. you could feel yourself practically melting into tengen’s chest as you laid on top of him.

he smiled down at you. “you look so good in that bathing suit,” he murmured.

you gushed at his sweet words as his hand tenderly stroked your inner thigh.

“you really know my style by now.” you replied.

he hummed gently, fingers running through your hair. that familiar mischievous glint appeared back in his eyes as he admired you. one of his calloused hands momentarily tilted your head up by your chin, warm breath on your cheek.

“it’s too bad i’ll have to tear it off you.” he teased directly in your ear.

slowly, his hands begin to wander even more. from your thighs to your waist, he made sure to thoroughly caress every part of your body. his hands seemed so large compared to practically all of you.

thinking about how much strength he had, he could simply wrap a single arm around you and be able to carry you perfectly anywhere he wanted. you were so delicate that it was obvious when he was holding back when touching you. it was so easy for someone of his size to accidentally hurt you if he were being careless, which he was the complete opposite of, thankfully.

you felt your breath hitch as his hands traveled to your protruding nipples, pinching them in between his fingers slightly. his large fingers kneaded carefully around your areolas, admiring how his touch made you squirm against him.

you let out a small whimper, his hands proceeding to massage and grasp at every part of you that he could. the more you responded to his touches, the more he wanted to do to you. in the midst of laying with two of his women, tengen had honestly forgotten that there was a chance anyone could walk by and see, even though this was a more private side of the shore.

“tengen…be gentle with her.” hina spoke softly, her hand interlocking with yours from behind you.

even though you only caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of your eye before she positioned herself closer to you, you swore you could see a flash of protectiveness, or…was that envy in her eyes? you never knew hinatsuru of all people had a territorial side such as this.

“she’s our new jewel, after all.” she said proudly, eyes glimmering within coming into contact with yours.

suddenly, her lips collided with yours. while this wasn’t the first time she’d done this to you, it always managed to send a plethora of sensations through you. this was especially prevalent now, for you had to hold back a staggered moan when her soft lips mashed against yours.

she tasted so sweet. with her tongue slipping in and out of your mouth, you could feel your mind blurring as if the amount of pleasure had given you some sort of fever. honestly, you wouldn't be surprised at this point if you’d caught a temperature.

hina pulled away from you eventually, her warm gaze greeting you once more with that same sweet smile. at the same time, tengen’s hands continued to roam your body, the same smirk lacing his lips.

you could feel your entire body heating up even more. having the both of them praise and caress you at the same time was almost overwhelming, yet you relished the feeling and how it began to leave a generous slick of fluid within your bathing suit bottoms.

tengen chuckled in response, turning your face back to his. now, you could really glimpse the hungry expression forming in his gaze.

“yes, she is…so precious too.”

his lips once again interlocked with yours, tongue teasing the inside of your mouth. his kiss was much heavier than hina’s, the intensity of it managing to make you let out a choked moan. meanwhile you could feel her hands from behind you taking to massage your breasts, her tender lips laying kisses along your neck.

you knew very well this whole time you were making him wait. this whole trip, you’d been so nervous around him. as if you weren’t already married to him, and like it was the first time you’d met him. you’d acted the same way in front of the wives from time to time. but it was much more intense around tengen.

but now, he craved to see your true wild side. what was it like to see you in your messiest, loveliest form? you could tell hina and possibly makio and suma would want the same.

they had only one way to find out, and what better way to do it on the most romantic beach at night?

“well well, starting without us?” makio’s voice sounded from above you. her playful smirk was directed right at you, marveling at how you were already a melting mess in between them.

suma was behind her by a few steps, peeking down at you with an aroused curiosity. “as always.” she scoffed, half-jokingly.

looking up at them, they were dripping wet from the shore that was now whispering away in the distance. you could see the sun’s golden hue beginning to cast ripples of color over the darkening water as it slowly set, the cool air fully sweeping over with the moonlight beginning to sneak in.

but you had every night to see that sunset on this vacation. what really caught your attention were the two wives in front of you. they looked so beautiful as always, just even more so now. the slight golden glow of the disappearing sun emitted a beautiful hue on their mostly bare bodies that seemed to shine with droplet marks from the sea. while suma was more bashful and trying to cover herself, makio stood unabashed with her hand on her hip, wrinkled bikini top dangling out of her hand.

tengen glared at them with the same playfulness, hands not stopping from running all over you.

“don’t complain, you just weren’t paying proper attention,” he teased. “you’re here now, after all.”

suddenly, he began to sit up, gently guiding you to do the same. tengen’s hands remained on your hips, leaning himself close to your face.

“sit and face me.” he murmured.

you immediately obeyed. now sitting in front of him, your gaze pointed up at him like you were awaiting his next command.

he shook his head at you, amused. “on my lap, princess.”

even though you were growing shaky, you obeyed. now straddling him, you gently rested your arms on his broad shoulders for a little bit of support.

you watched as he undid his robe, revealing his enthralling muscles. even if you already knew what he looked like shirtless, this was even more of an amplifying experience.

you could see how there was a faint remainder of the oil previously lathered on his skin at the beginning of the day gleaming on his skin. you could see every faint scar and mark of his perfectly displayed for you to admire. though it was futile to just stare in silence, since your awe-struck expression caused him to chuckle, even earning a slight giggle from hina and the others.

“see something you like?” he chuckled, hands running up your bare waist.

before you could react properly, you felt makio’s hand from behind you abruptly untie the string of your bikini top in a singular motion, taking advantage of you being distracted. the initial gesture caused you to jump.

“wait—!”

before you could stop it, the thin fabric had already fallen to the ground. the heat in your body now felt blistering as you were almost completely revealed, especially out in the open like this.

as you initially scrambled to cover yourself, tengen stopped you, a dazed yet still focused look in his eyes. you could almost see every want of his coming to light now. every craving, every ache he’d had for you and your body was becoming so clear now.

“don’t.” he said gruffly, placing your hands back where they were.

“you look so pretty, hun.” makio purred from behind you, embracing you by your upper waist, her lips grazing against the back of your neck.

“why would you ever want to hide this?” she admired everything from your thighs to your breasts, making you shiver even with her lightest touches.

you let out a whimper as makio continued. as if it weren't enough, both suma and hinatsuru now moved even closer to you. at this point, it was all such a collective blur that all you could feel was their hands touching you, without being able to discern who exactly was touching what in the moment.

desperately, you started to grind down on tengen’s erection through the thin cloth of your bikini. even with the slight separation, you could feel just how big he was growing beneath you. his gaze was still so focused, even though you could feel his breath growing even more labored on your skin.

though, you swear you could feel hina’s eyes burning into you. even as she patiently watched you, inside she was reeling at how good you looked. so entranced and in a pure, euphoric state. this is all she wanted for you, for you to experience the best pleasure from all of your lovers at once.

you couldn’t even gather what had happened in between, but the sound that dragged you from a near pleasure-drunken state was the sound of fabric ripping. looking down, you saw the mangled pieces of your suit bottoms in tengens hands, effortlessly ripped away to reveal your ass, along with your now soaked cunt.

before you could even move, you let out a gasp as you flinched, feeling makio’s fingers swipe over your slick wetness, admiring how a generous amount of it glistened on her fingertips.

“well, what do we have here?” makio teased. being the closest to tengen, she extended her hand to him, a knowing look in her eyes.

you could feel yourself pulsing as he took her fingers into his mouth, tongue lapping up all of your fluids from her fingers. from there, something was set ablaze in him that even he wasn’t fully prepared for.

“shit…” tengen groaned under his breath. his fingers dug into your hips, lips beginning to leave a trail of kisses on your neck. his breath was rough and hot, teeth occasionally sinking in and marking you up as he pleased.

throwing your head back, you could feel everything from his shaft rubbing against your folds, to your wives’ hands roaming and groping you all over. some were in your hair, some squeezing your ass, and some even snaking around your stomach to tease your sensitive bud.

in the midst of the entanglement, you could glimpse hina kissing up your stomach, or what of it she could manage to get in contact with while your husband suckled at your sore nipples.

her eyes had the same look of craving that tengen had—but it was so much softer. she gently caressed your face in her hands as she admired your beauty again. once more, her lips collided with yours. through her kisses, you could feel yourself instinctively squeeze your thighs together as your tongues teased one another.

in between hot kisses, you heard her say ‘i love you’ which almost made you tip over the edge, until tengen caught your attention once again. either way, there was no way you were cumming only once tonight.

you could see he was getting restless now. his hands were starting to leave deeper marks on your hips, and it was evident he wanted all of you to himself now. laying you down beneath him, the wives knew to leave him some space. they still remained close, of course.

seeing as you were already trembling and even had a few tear streaks staining your face, your wives and husband did their best to make sure you were fully relaxed.

while tengen let his cock rest at your entrance, he slowly massaged your lower pelvic area with care. hina and suma were above you: suma taking to massaging your tense shoulders and hina gingerly running her fingers through your hair. meanwhile, makio worked her hands into massaging your legs and feet.

he smiled softly down at you, the tip naturally plunging in slightly due to how wet you were. his hand caressed your face, thumb brushing over your lower lip.

“take a deep breath, baby.” he said, face close to yours now. “i’ll start slow, okay?”

you could only meekly nod at him as suma and hina both held onto each of your hands now.

he let out a low groan as he almost immediately slipped balls-deep into you. your head threw back, a shaky cry escaping your lips as he was already stretching you out so much. you could feel your legs trembling uncontrollably, as you were already so close to an orgasm.

even though his starting thrusts were slow, you could feel them pick up quite fast. you could almost feel how pent up he’d been with each thrust.

tengen drove himself further into you by lifting you into a mating press, the slaps from his thrusts getting louder the faster he pounded into you. in response, your hands messily grasped around his neck, struggling to find your balance as his length fucked deeper and deeper into you.

“tengen…s’feels so good,” you slurred, the slapping only getting faster the closer you grew.

with the way you tightened around him, he could only respond with feral moans and growls, words barely stringing together as all he could think about was making you come.

“that’s my angel…taking me so well,” he panted, thrusts now growing sloppy as you clenched around him even more, your breasts bouncing with his rhythm.

his eyes, while set ablaze with something so primal, still managed to have that soft undertone to them as he looked at you. it was so clear how much he adored you, and he would make it known. he let his fingers dig back into your tender flesh, ready to spill everything he had to give inside of you.

his forehead was against yours now, both of your moans breaking up into shaky, desperate noises.

“cum for me, sweetheart,” he hissed passionately, the final thrusts becoming so deep you swear you felt like you were about to burst.

“show me that you’re mine.”

it only took a few more pumps of his cock inside of you before you cried out, louder than you ever had before. your climax had caused almost full-body convulsions, and you didn’t think you’d be able to function properly if it weren’t for your wives soothing you.

you still remained laying on your back for a while, letting hinatsuru wipe the hot tears that streaked down your cheeks as suma kissed and massaged your body, and makio helped you get your breathing back to normal.

tengen, while still in a daze himself, still fetched you cold water and wasn’t about to let you walk back to the resort. come to think of it, he probably wouldn’t let you walk for a while after this.

after a while, the group of you sat out on the shore admiring the crashing of the waves along with the beautiful stars that now blanketed the night sky.

you laid with your lovers, head resting against tengen’s chest while your wives surrounded you in a sort of “pile” of cuddling. of course, hina was closest to you, her head resting on one of your shoulders.

“I think that was a pretty good trip, hm?” tengen asked, smiling specifically at you.

you could only give an exhausted smile, hand rubbing against one of his arms that surrounded your waist.

makio let out a yawn. “it’s only good if we can stay here forever.” she sighed dreamily, resting her head on one of his shoulders. tengen chuckled, laying a kiss on her forehead.

you glanced towards hina, a sleepy figure of suma rested against her thigh. hina looked back at you sweetly, her hand rubbing over yours.

“do you feel better?”

you couldn’t help but giggle a little, thinking of how different you felt a couple hours ago compared to now.

“so much better.” you murmured, circling your thumb over her hand.

the smile you gave hina in that moment seemed to solve something within herself she even didn’t know needed solving. she figured it was because you and her lovers brought her so much peace, which was something she always found herself needing more of in her life.

after a honeymoon like this, all of you collectively felt like nothing could ever come close to this moment: watching the stars with your lovers as the waves crash in the distance.

#demon slayer smut #tengen x wives x reader #tengen uzui smut #⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚 — sea’s scriptures #tengen uzui x reader #hinatsuru x reader #demon slayer x female reader #uzui smut #makio uzui #suma uzui #hinatsuru uzui #kny smut #kny x reader #☾ — nightly yearning

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bethanythebogwitch · 8 months ago

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Wet Beast Wednesday: moray eels

This week on Wet Beast Wednesday I'll be going over something amazing, a fish with a sense of morality. You see, the moral eel is known for, what... I think I'm reading this wrong. Oh, MoRAY eel, not moral. Well this is awkward. Hang tight, I need to go redo my research.

(Image: a green moray (Gymnothorax funebris) swimming outside of its burry, with its whole body visible from the side. It is a long, slender fish that looks a bit like a snake. A long fin starts just below the head and continues down the length of the body. The body is arranged in a wave pattern. It has a pointed snout and small eyes. Its body is a yellow-green color. In the background is the sandy seafloor, dotted with various sponges and corals. End ID)

Moray eels are true eels, meaning they are in the order Anguiliformes. Yeah, I did wolf eels, electric eels, and lamprey eels before I got around to actual eels. There are over 200 known species of moray eel in 15 genera. Like other eels, they are elongated bony fish with extra vertebrae and reduced fins. Moray eels have fewer fins than most eel species, only having a dorsal, anal and tail fin that merge together and run down the back of most of the body and underneath portion of it. They achieve motion by undulating this long fin and sometimes undulating the rest of the body as well. Moray eels aren't the fastest of fish, but they can swim backwards, something almost no fish can. The head has a long snout with wide jaws. Most species have long fangs used to grab onto prey, but a few species are adapted to eat hard-shelled prey and have molar-like teeth to crush through shells instead. Probably the coolest feature of morays are the pharyngeal jaws. This is a second set of jaws located in the back of the mouth. When the eel bites onto prey, the jaws can be shot forward to grab the food and help pull it into the throat. While lots of fish have pharyngeal jaws, morays are the only ones who can extend their pharyngeal jaws forward and use them to grab prey. Morays have smooth, scaleless skin that is often patterned to provide camouflage. The skin is coated in mucus that provides protection from damage and infection. In some species, the mucus can be used to glue sand together to help reinforce burrows. Morays lack lateral lines, a system of organs found in most fish that senses changes in water movement. Their sense of smell is their primary sense. The size of morays varies between species. The smallest species is the dwarf moray eel (Gymnothorax melatremus) which reaches 26 cm (10 in) long. The largest species by mass is the giant moray eel (Gymnothorax javanicus) which can reach 3 meters (10 ft) and 30 kg (66 lbs) while the longest species is the slender giant moray (Strophidon sathete), the longest known specimen of which measured in at 3.94 m (12.9 ft).

New reaction image

(Image: a giant moray (Gymnothorax javanicus) emerging from a burrow. It is brown and mottled with yellowish patches. Its head is pointed at the camera and it's mouth is wide open, aming it look shocked. End ID)

(Image: an anatomical diagram of the skeleton of a moray eel emphasizing the pharyngeal jaws and the muscle attachments. End ID. Art by Zina Deretsky)

Moray eels are found throughout the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian oceans. Different species are found in different temperatures and depths, though most species live in relatively shallow, warm water. Several species can live in brackish water and a few will swim upriver and live for a time in fresh water, though there do not appear to be any species that live their entire lives in fresh water. Morays are ambush predators who rely on the element of surprise. They live in small, tight places such as holes in coral, gaps between rocks, or sandy burrows. When prey passes, the eel can lunge out and grab it. Unlike most fish, the eel cannot use suction feeding due to the shapes of their mouths. They have to rely on lunging froward and catching prey with their mouths. Their mouths are adapted in shape to push water to the sides. This reduces water resistance and avoids creating a wave that could push prey away from the eel. If an eel catches prey that cannot be swallowed whole, it will tie itself in a knot while biting on to the food. By pulling its head through the loop, the eel can rip the food into bite-sized pieces. Spending most of their times in burrows also provides protection from predators, especially in juveniles or smaller species. At night, the eels will come out of their burrows to hunt sleeping prey while the larger predators are asleep. Giant morays have also been seen engaging in interspecies cooperative hunting with roving coral groupers (Plectropomus pessuliferus). The eels can fit into small crevices the groupers can't to flush prey into the grouper's path while catching their own. Morays are mostly solitary species and many can be territorial. They are known to be shy and will retreat into their burrows if they feel threatened. They are also curious and many species are quite intelligent.

(Image: a male ribbon eel (Rhinomuraena quaesita) on a coral reef. It is a very long and slender eel with its body curved in many waves. It is brightly colored, with a blue-purple body, yellow fin and face, and a long black and white stripe running down the back half of the body. On the nostrils are two feather-like structures. End ID)

Morays reproductive strategies are poorly known and differ based on species. While many species seem to have no set mating season and will reproduce whenever they can, others will mate at the same time every year. Some species seem to have dedicated spots to lay their eggs and a few are believed to be anadromous, meaning they travel from the sea to fresh water to spawn. Meanwhile, some of the species that spend a lot of time in fresh water are catadromous, meaning they return to sea to mate. Females will lay their eggs and the male fertilize them. After this, they depart, providing no parental care. As with all true eels, moray eels begin life as leptocephalus larvae. This type of fish larvae is notable for its resemblance to a simple, transparent leaf with a head on one end. These larvae are unique and poorly understood, despite being the larval stage of a lot of different species of fish. They are unusually well developed for larvae, capable of active swimming and generally living life. In fact, some particularly large leptocephalus larvae were initially mistaken for adult fish. They feed mostly on bits of drifting organic material called marine snow and can remain in the larval stage for up to 3 years, with those in colder conditions usually taking longer to metamorphose. All leptocephalus larvae start out with no sex organs, then develop female organs, then develop male ones, becoming simultaneous hermaphrodites. They will ultimately become eith male or female and it is likely that environmental factors are the main determining factor. During metamorphosis into a juvenile, the leptocephalus can reduce in size by up to 90%, resulting in the juvenile being smaller than the larva. The process of maturation is poorly understood, but it seems that most morays will be sexually mature by three years of age.

(Image: multiple photos of a particularly large leptocephalus larva (not sure what species). It is a translucent organis, wth a body shaped like a very long leaf, narrow at both ends. In the frint is a very tiny head. End ID)

Morays are shy and generally avoid humans. Though some cultures have hunted them for food, they are often not considered a particularly good food source. Many species have high levels of chemicals called ciguatoxins in their bodies, which can lead to a condition called ciguatera fish poisoning if eaten. The largest threat to morays is habitat loss. This is especially true for the many species that live in coral reefs, which are in increasing danger due to global warming. Attacks on humans are rare and usually happen as a response to a human sticking their hand in the eel's burrow. Some of the large species could cause significant damage with a bite. Some species, usually the smaller ones, are found in the aquarium trade, thought they are not good pets for beginners as even the smallest morays are still large for aquarium fish and have some specific requirements. The curiosity many morays have has led to some becoming familiar with and even friendly to humans, often the result of feeding them. They can recognize individual humans and remember them over the course of years. Aquarium employees sometimes report that the eels will come to nuzzle and play with them and have personalities like dogs. Marine biologists and professional SCUBA divers Ron and Valorie Taylor befriended a pair of eels they named Harry and Fang at the Great Barrier Reef who would remember them and come out to visit them year after year.

(Image: a SCUBA diver hugging a large, brown moray with black spots. End ID)

youtube

(Video: A shot video showing Valeria Taylor and a moray eel she befriended)

youtube

(Video: the song "That's a Moray", a parody of the song "That's Amore" by Dean Martin)

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the-tarot-witch22 · 3 months ago

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What people admire/think about you - Pick a pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2/ Pile 3

My Paid Readings | My insta

Liked my blog or readings? Tip me!

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Pile 1:

(The cards I got for you - page of wands , the tower, four of pentacles and the empress)

Okay so the very first thing i heard for this group is people admire how thoughtful and caring you're, this is admired by many people around you, some of you may have a baby face too, or looks younger than you are, people find you very sexy and attractive , i also heard "a head turner", you come of as confident, even though, if you're not , or don't think of yourself that way, people like that about you, you also seem creative to fellow people around you, your eyes and lips might seem to attract lots of people around you or your lips could be plump without even trying, i see pink lips or nude shade for your lips, anyways your dressing style seems classy or people just like how you dress, how you carry yourself, some people may even think you are a hot-headed person, like misunderstood or form their opinions on you, but trust me when i say some of them are just intimidated, I also feel for some people you guys would have been a victim for false rumour or you just attracted lots of haters or people like that around yourself. I also feel you guys might have people lusted over you, it definitely made you very uncomfortable though, your friendly vibe or nature is also loved by people around you! i also heard "you are lovely", People might also admire your ambition or goal driven nature they find you quite passionate, y'all seem to attract some broken people, or there are some patterns which repeat itself, people find you really nice and comfortable to be around you like just spilling their secrets or pouring their heart out to you. For some of you guys, you might have or had body image issues due to past people in your life , but trust me when i say you guys are gorgeous! Even the vibe here is so attractive~

I feel earth and fire sign energy here especially sagittarius sun!

Pile 2:

(The cards I got for you - eight of swords, five of swords, the sun and the strength)

Okay so the very first thing i feel and heard is you guys are amazing communicators, people love that about you, you try to get your point across to the other person, no matter how nervy you are, but you try not to show this to people around you and they love that about you! Some of you may only talk a lot when you are actually comfortable with the other person, some of you could be introvert or ambivert, when i was doing your reading I also felt a emotional vibe, like you may not show your emotions much but they are there and you are extremely different than world perceive you, some of you might have battles in their own head, imposter syndrome, feeling they are not enough, but what i see and feel is you guys are coming out of that zone , learning to be more confident loving yourself, some people might even be feeling that you're not like before, like they lost you but trust me you have been grown and growing, healing yourself, people like your sharp bone structure or there maybe something sharp about your features pointed nose , but straight and extremely good looking, some of you might get insecure about it, but trust me people love it, people like how competitive you are, or when it's time or you feel like, you don't back down from a challenge, people find your laugh infectious, or love how positive you are despite the situation, people may also like your brave and courageous persona, some of you in this group could be religious or spiritual. You seem like strong to your environment, just like as i said you might not like pity or people thinking you are weak, no matter what. People may also like your hairs, nose too! if I have to give you a word i had say "adaptable". Because that is something i keep hearing~

i feel lots of you here could be libra moon/rising, Leo energy is also here!!

Pile 3:

(The cards I got for you - wheel of fortune, the hanged man, page of wands, justice and the world)

Okay so the very first thing I feel is, your sense of rightness, people love how you stand up for right and wrong, how you stand up to people, people admire that about you a lot, you don't feel the need to people please anymore, in past you could have done so, but not anymore I also feel your confidence and sense of justice is being admired very much, I also feel people admire your way of talking, your sense of dressing a lot, some of you here like dark shades of red or blue, people admire how much you accomplish , not knowing how hard you have work for it but they feel jealousy as well a surge of admiration towards you, people also admire your desire to read, i also feel some of you here could be a big reader or like to read a lot, people also like how nonchalant you are , but in all honesty you can be losing it , there is also some procastinators here but you get the work done, people find that freaking attractive like how can she complete this work/job, whilst she always said its not complete lol, people like your body language, they do wanna be more like you, they find your problem solving quality also very attractive, they also admire how balanced you are how equally you treat people, no matter the hard times you turned out great! "i also heard we are proud of you", they like how comfortable and complete you make people feel. They also like your facial features a lot! Some of you could have foxy eyes here and people find that very sexy and attractive!

I feel here is capricorn, leo/sagittarius and scorpio energy!

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

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kasiers · 5 months ago

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A LITTLE LONGER — SHOYO HINATA

pairing: brazil!shoyo hinata x reader

synopsis: a lazy morning waking up with your dear boyfriend while he tries to convince you to stay in bed with him a bit longer <3

contains: gn!reader, pure fluff, established relationship, timeskip!shoyo hinata and even more fluff !! slight spoilers since this is timeskip

word count: 1.1k

a/n: based on this req ! when i was editing this the wc was originally 998 so i decided i might as well push it to 1k+ LMAO

Soft morning rays peeked through Shoyo’s blinds, casting an ethereal golden glow over everything in his small bedroom. The light bounces off the glossy covers of the various books scattered on his floor, ranging from volleyball training manuals to English learning guides and the Dragon Ball DVDS numbered from the very first until the latest.

You stirred lightly in your sleep, feeling a gentle pressure on your neck which pulled you awake. You shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. As you moved, his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer to him as your back pressed against his chest. He hummed softly, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

The gentle buzz of the city outside his apartment was a comforting distant backdrop, the smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from the kitchen filled your nostrils. Must be his roommate, you thought.

You shift slightly in his embrace, still amazed that you and Shoyo can lay comfortably on his small twin size bed. You frown softly at the weight of Shoyo’s arms wrapped over you thanks to the muscles he’s built up. You gently lift his arm, catching a glimpse of the large delivery bag by the end of his bed. You carefully hold his arm up as best as you could without waking him up, turning around to face him.

When you had finally settled into a more cozy position, you were met with his sleepy expression which made your heart flutter. You could tell he was half-asleep and tired, likely trying to recover from his games that had run late from the night before presumably with that high school friend of his that he told you about.

You nestled closer to Shoyo, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he instinctively wrapped his arms around you once more, keeping you in a comfortable lock.

“Good mornin’ baby,” Shoyo murmurs, his voice thick with sleep as he presses a soft kiss to your head, taking in the time to smell the sweet scent of your shampoo.

“Good morning, Sho,” you replied back, your voice equally hushed. You look up at him, though he doesn’t open his eyes as he’d rather not be greeted by the sunlight just yet. His hair at the moment looked unkempt and wild, you can’t help but form a soft smile on your lips.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, his voice a drowsy murmur as he tries his best to fight back his fatigue. How could he fall back asleep when your presence was like a warm blanket he never wanted to let go of? He could stay like this forever.

You nodded as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. You could smell a hint of his cologne and natural musk. You threw your arms over him, both your legs tangled with his and the white blanket draped over both of you.

You traced small lazy patterns on his back, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing. Your actions gave him a sense of belonging, grounding him in this very moment.

“Yeah, I did. How about you?” you murmured against his skin, your voice soft, “ You must’ve been exhausted after last night.”

He felt the vibrations of your words, sending a shiver down his spine. “I’m okay,” he says quietly, his fingers gently fiddling with the ends of your hair.

You both lay there silently, seconds turning into minutes stretching into a blissful eternity. You finally had a sense of peace that you felt like you hadn’t experienced in a long time, thanks to your busy work schedule.

“I don’t want to get up,” Shoyo admitted, his grip on you tightening slightly. “This is too nice.”

You laughed softly, nudging him gently as you pushed off him just a bit to look up at his face and hum in agreement. “Mhm, I know Sho, but don’t you have training today? Are you seriously trying to slack off on your responsibilities?”

Shoyo sighed dramatically as he nuzzled his face into your hair, “baby, would ya kill me if I asked for a few more minutes?”

You shifted your gaze up at him, your lips curving into a soft smile. The warm sunlight streaming through the blinds shined down on his sleepy yet energetic face, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else but the comfort of his presence.

You knew you had to get up soon— there was work waiting for you, and Shoyo had training scheduled for the morning. But the longer you looked at his bright, hopeful eyes, you found it hard to resist.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” you said, completely giving up, your voice a gentle tease. “I’ve got work, and you have training today. We can’t just lie here all day.”

Shoyo’s lips held a small cheerful grin, it was as if he wasn’t just worn out minutes prior, his eyes sparkled with a mix of charm and enthusiasm. “Come on, lemme enjoy this time with you baby,” he says smoothly, voice filled with genuine affection.

He squeezes you gently as if to plead, you’d be lying if you said his energy wasn’t infectious, it was difficult not to deny him of such a request especially when he looked at you like that. “I’ll get up right after, I promise,” he added, his tone hopeful.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his persistence. It was hard to stay annoyed when he was being so affectionate. “You’re really trying to sweet-talk me, huh?” you said, shaking your head slightly but not pulling away. “Alright, fine. A few more minutes. But you better not be late for your training.”

His face lit up immediately upon hearing your words, muttering sweet and small thank you’s as he pulled you in even closer, nestling his face into your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin. “Thank you… thank you baby…” he murmured, it was hard not to be charmed by his gratitude.

Once again, you found yourself sinking back into his embrace, the warmth of his body pressing against yours as it soothed you. Shoyo tightened his hold on you, his fingers brushing gently against your back securely. The gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek was comforting while the soft hum of his breathing was like a gentle breeze that carried you into a peaceful slumber.

Maybe you could call in sick to watch him and Heitor for the day, Nice would love your company after all.

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sailoryooons · 1 year ago

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Angel | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences.

☾ Word Count: 15,551

☾ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end.

☾ Published: September 3, 2023

☾ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist

Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.

She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.

Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night.

Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it.

Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property. Let’s try to play nice and show face.

Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do.

Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl.

“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.”

“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.

“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”

Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway.

It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.

Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.

Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts.

Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer.

They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right.

Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him.

“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”

“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”

“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.”

“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”

“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”

“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.”

Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.”

A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound.

Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.

When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.

People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they’re at the bottom rung or the top.

The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well.

Old Yoongi might not be so impressed.

Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom.

The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely.

Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.

Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck.

Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone.

Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal.

Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house.

Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced.

Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly.

Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.

Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.

Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses.

His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel.

Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.

The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops.

At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning.

Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients.

It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store.

“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”

“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”

“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”

“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”

“Whatever shall we do?”

He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time.

“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”

“Thanks, Angel.”

“Mhmm.”

His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes.

Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in.

Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required.

In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm.

Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.

Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you.

He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space.

He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too.

It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work.

Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms.

With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room.

Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time.

“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.

“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh.

You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back.

Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you.

“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.

“Mhmm. Just a long night.”

“You smell like perfume.”

“Hmm?”

“Like peaches.”

He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Interesting.”

“Not particularly.”

He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”

Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.”

“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.”

Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for.

Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning.

“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”

“Are you a foot person?”

“What if I was?”

You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”

Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.

“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”

“That so?”

“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”

Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability.

You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly.

So he does.

Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly.

Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you.

His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds.

Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees.

He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no.

Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs.

Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead.

Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it.

Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.

When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.

This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to.

There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.”

“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.”

He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.”

A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.”

Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair.

The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.

Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out.

“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.”

He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.

When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.

Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful.

“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough.

The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.

“You don’t-”

“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?”

“Fuck yeah, Angel.”

Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him.

Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him.

“Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.

“Give it to me.”

One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching.

Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home.

A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier.

Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.

The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.

Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything.

There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.

You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love.

Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day.

“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”

“I’d sleep in them anyway.”

“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”

“Meh.”

“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”

“Huh. So you are jealous.”

“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.”

Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.

Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake.

When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be.

You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time.

Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.

The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.

A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.

“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.

Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder.

“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”

“Mhmm.”

“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.”

With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.

Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it.

Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth.

You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have.

As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to.

Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself.

At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.

If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters.

It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself.

And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now.

The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him.

After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner.

You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers.

Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile.

Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head.

The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin.

At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator.

It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly.

Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.

While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.

Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away.

Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning.

Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.

Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.

You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip.

He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement.

Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left.

Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt.

Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen.

The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something.

A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss.

“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”

You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle.

Money. This man has money.

Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately.

The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either.

The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.

If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.

“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”

“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”

“Well said.”

Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.

“Do you know where we are?”

You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”

He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”

“You asked a question.”

“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”

“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”

He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.”

Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.

“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”

“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”

You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”

“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”

You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”

“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”

“To get their cock sucked, usually.”

Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.

Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder.

“I will fucking kill you.”

There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.

You need to be valuable. And fast.

“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.”

Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest.

“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”

“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.”

“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”

“One way to find out, right?”

Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.

Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen.

Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.

Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life.

You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.

It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is.

Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”

You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”

“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”

“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”

“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”

“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”

“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”

“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”

“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”

This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him.

“Thank you.”

“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.”

“Okay.”

His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“See you soon.”

Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat.

When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood.

Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin.

All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?

Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe?

Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi.

“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”

“What?” Yoongi demands.

“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.”

It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting.

“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”

“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”

“He told you where they were?”

“No, she did.”

Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”

“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”

“In front of-”

“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”

“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”

“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”

“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”

Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”

An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.

I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead?

In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated.

None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again.

Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.

You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.

It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost.

You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm.

At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have.

Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage.

It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it.

You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live.

The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.

You’re not sure if it’s that simple.

It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.

Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off.

Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.

A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried.

When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined.

Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.

His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety.

Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

Click. Squeeze. Bang.

You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand.

A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.

Squeeze. Bang.

It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels.

Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified.

“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!”

“That’s it, keep talking to me.”

It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!”

Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-

Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.

Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths.

“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”

“No.”

“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?”

“I don’t-”

“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place.

Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”

You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather.

When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off.

“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun.

“Yes.”

“Then why-”

“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”

“Okay.”

“Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”

A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you.

It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.

Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home.

Home.

The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare.

Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now.

Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only.

The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense.

So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this.

Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling.

The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.

“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”

“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”

“Give me five.”

When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching.

Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk.

Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs.

Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.

You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle.

Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.

He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him.

When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.

He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver.

Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw.

Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good.

One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good.

Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.

His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you.

Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.

“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking.

He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Hmmm.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.”

“Fuck.”

He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little.

“Fuck yeah.”

You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself.

“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.

“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.”

“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”

“You do.”

“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.”

The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”

“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.”

“Mmm.”

The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying.

He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.

A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”

“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”

Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock.

Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad.

Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity.

“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?”

“Fuuuuck yeah.”

His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.”

“Shit shit shit shit.”

You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it.

The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin.

For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest.

“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours.”

“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”

You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”

He pauses. “What?”

“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.”

“Then why stay there?”

You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”

“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”

“Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”

He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.”

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