luvbatsy

[luvbatsy]

ఌ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑

w.c › 6.6k

warnings › bottom male reader. A faceclaim for him, if you need visuals. Based on my short Drabble. Changed some things to keep it fresh.

plot › a stalker (you) who becomes an idol, experiences withdrawn feelings from not being able to stalk your bae anymore due to scheduling issues. So your sister forces you to make some online friends, one you get particularly close to.

kinks › phone sex

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Arakawa Naoki had a stalker.

Naoki couldn’t exactly remember when you began watching him. He just randomly noticed you appearing in places you weren’t before. At first he was creeped out—wondering what trusted adult he should tell.

Until he saw you trip over your own shoelace when trying to discreetly follow him into a grocery store.

Then he just started seeing you as a kid who wanted attention but would rather die than directly ask for it.

You were pretty harmless. After six months of your ‘stalking’, you began leaving him gifts and food. It was mostly his favorites too. How could he not appreciate you?

Once he had graduated middle school and moved to high school, he honestly expected to never see you again. Until he noticed you in his assigned classroom. Judging by how quickly you shoved a book in your face—you weren’t expecting him.

His luck.

That’s when he learned your name.

Momoi (Name).

Your last name was cute. Peach well? Adorable even.

He couldn’t find you scary at all. Though your classmates seemed to disagree. No one would talk to you or even glance your way unless they had no choice. He didn’t understand why, you were cute.

Sure, you didn’t put any efforts into your looks. Your tie was a mess, white shoes that were caked with dirt, cardigan missing buttons, a strange black stain on your blouse. Your face was permanently in a frown, eyes staring off into space if they weren’t looking at Naoki.

Okay.

Okay, maybe you weren’t cute to the average person.

But Naoki saw past that. He began paying attention to you—how could he not? He noticed that you were into music. One of the rare times you actually did something that wasn’t dedicated to him.

He saw you staring almost longingly at the music club last week. But you didn’t attempt to walk into the room, opting to quickly walk away.

You hardly knew how to hide your diary, having it out on your desk, wide open even when you left to the restroom. It made sense, no one ever went near you at all. Only Naoki cared enough to see what you could’ve possibly written.

5月10日 Arakawa-San recently got a bad haircut.. it’s really bad… but he’s still cute… so I’ll ignore it

5月11日 Sis keeps bothering me to audition, stupid. How do you nicely tell someone to shut up?

5月16日 Sis told me writing in the diary everyday would help me but honestly I feel like a psycho. Besides, I’m not sure what to write sometimes, should I just put nonsense?

5月17日 クククククククククククククククララララララララララ, おぉ〜 ??????? 悲しい嬉しい !!!!!!!! What if I jumped in front of the train, would it be an instant death? Hm

Mostly nonsense for the most part. Especially after May 17th. Seemed like you gave up actually writing your feelings in it. Oh well, it was a nice look into his weird stalker.

“Don’t you think Momoi-San is a bit… strange…?”

Naoki glanced up from your diary. He had taken it up from your desk yesterday and it seemed you hadn’t noticed yet. You were both now seniors and were once again in the same class.

“What do you mean?” Naoki questioned, glancing back at your diary. His friend, Nakamura groaned as he rubbed at his hair. He scooted closer which caused Naoki to quickly position your diary so Nakamura couldn’t get a passing glance.

“I feel like he follows you around! I’ve just started noticing!”

Naoki held back a laugh. Nakamura was about four years late.

“You’re imagining things. Why would anyone follow me? I’m not anyone important.”

“I guess… but…”

10月4日 Momo-Chan died yesterday. I didn’t think hamsters could live ten years. Sis really cared for that rodent

11月7日 I’ve been watching 悪い髪 for four years now but I haven’t even spoken to him this is bad, I got rejected from the university he applied to I haven’t even told mom and dad I only applied to one… they’ll kill me

12月19日 forgot I had this stupid thing sis is dragging me to an audition next year maybe by then she’ll forget I can just be a full time stalker

3月23日 she didn’t forget—it’s next week. Oh god, 行きたくない、行きたくない！姉さん、お願いだから

“Naoki! Since when did you read???” Nakamura snapped his fingers, catching Naoki’s attention.

“What?” Naoki closed the diary and shook his head, “you have no proof. No sense in getting paranoid over hearsay. Just leave it alone.”

Nakamura sighed and rolled his eyes, “fine. But I’m not being weird, that guys a freak. I won’t be surprised if he has nothing going for him after we graduate.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

もとも

To say Nakamura was dead wrong would be an understatement. You and your sister must’ve went to that audition and passed with flying colors. Because next thing Naoki knew was that you were on a poster at his part time job with your sister, teasing your debut. Mo to Mo.

You had cleaned up nice for the photoshoot, Naoki felt validated for thinking you were cute underneath all that ‘dirt.’ It seemed the agency was leaning heavily into an alternative and more edgy look with you and your sister.

Naoki didn’t think he’d ever seen your bare arms before until that poster. That stare that your past classmates saw as terrifying was oddly sensually. He was happy that you had something going for yourself, his stalker.

But…

He didn’t expect that meant he’d only get to see you on the tv from now on.

2 years later

“(Name), stop wallowing in your stolen hoodie please. You can’t keep getting so sad every time it’s his birthday.” Hiyori, your sister said, kicking your back as she walked past you to the kitchen.

You only whimpered, curling into Naoki’s sweater that you stole on December 19th, your 2nd year at high school. He had left it in his locker one day and you just wanted it, luckily he often forgot to lock his locker.

“But… Sis…” You whined, wiping away a few tears with your hand. “I only know what university he went to… I have no time to see him anymore.”

“It’s not like you ever spoke to him.” Hiyori muttered, tossing an apple up and down as she walked back over to living room. She kicked you once more before plopping down onto the couch, resting her feet on your body.

You made no effort to move. “But… I liked seeing him… even if didn’t say anything to him. Seeing him.. helped.”

“You’re lucky he never noticed just how insane you are. You could’ve been in jail right now.”

“Mhm.” You glanced over at your phone, tapping on the screen. “Do you think he’s having a good birthday?”

Hiyori only hummed, “maybe. Arakawa Naoki, right? How’d you even start stalking him?”

“He helped me.”

“Helped. Yea, that’s enough information,” Hiyori shook her head, deciding she was done with you for the time being. She began tapping away at her phone, occasionally giggling. Probably her girlfriend.

You watched the time tick on your phone, right when it reached midnight. The day was now December 25th, Christmas Day. No longer Arakawa Naoki’s birthday. You groaned and turned off your phone, glancing over at Hiyori.

“Merry Christmas…”

“Merry Christmas. Let’s go to the aquarium, that’ll cheer you up.” Hiyori said, taking her feet off your body.

“Aquarium…” You muttered, shifting over to glance up at her. “Tokyo Sea Life Park?”

“If that’s what you want. It shouldn’t be too busy when we go.”

It was very busy.

“What the hell?” Hiyori groaned, pulling down her hat to cover her face. She squeezed past a group of students pressed against the windows. “Tch, these kids have no respect. Hogging up the glass, can’t even see shit.”

You hummed absentmindedly, glancing around. “It’s fine. I just want to see the voyagers.” Your face was properly covered with a mask and sunglasses, a hat resting on the top of your head.

“It’s a Sunday—why are so many people here! I’m sweating too much.” Hiyori complained, her mask slipping down a bit. “Go off without me, I need a water.”

“You sure?”

“Go!” She waved you off, already walking away.

“Ah, okay..” You only shrugged. Better to let her cool off than aggravate her any further. You dodged and weaved through the crowds, coming across couples and families that were taking photos of the fish. It had been two years since visiting Tokyo Sea Life Park in Edogawa City.

You’d come frequently on Mondays and Wednesdays because Naoki would usually have baseball practice. Despite how much you loved him, watching him practice could only be so much fun after awhile.

“Look, isn’t he cute?”

“Ah, don’t point at him! It’s rude.”

“Is he a model?”

“You can’t even see his face, his hat’s hiding it!”

You glanced over at the two girls whispering about, not paying any attention to the fish swimming behind them. Ah, young love. Cute. You shook your head and looked over at the sign on the walls. Voyagers of the Sea… Voyagers of the Sea…

“Excuse me, are you looking for something?”

“Ah,” you glanced up, coming face to face with an employee. They were dressed a bit weird. Wearing a hat and mask. Could employees wear something like that? “Uh, hm, where’s the Voyagers of the Sea? It’s been awhile since I’ve been here.”

The employee turned their head to the map on the wall, muttering to themselves. Shouldn’t an employee know where everything is? You were about to just tell them to forget when they suddenly reached over and grabbed your hand.

“I found it. C’mon.” They sounded like a man. You gasped as he tugged you along. The path was bumpy, constantly having to skid to a stop due to the large crowds. You winced each time you bumped right into his back. Gosh, he had broad shoulders.

Two more sharp turns and another knock to your nose on his shoulder, you arrived at the Voyagers of the Sea. You rubbed your nose, groaning to yourself before glancing over at the tanks.

You couldn’t help but grin. “It’s still pretty.” You whispered mainly to yourself, stepping close to the glass. “Bluefin tuna,” you pointed as it swam past, “eagle ray, scalloped hammerhead.”

“Y’know,” you glanced back at the employee who was standing near you. He hadn’t left yet surprisingly. “Bluefin tuna are the largest tuna species. My sister says they’re also the tastiest. And scalloped hammerheads have a 360-degree vision, but then that means they can’t see in front of them. One time, when I was here as a student, one of the fishes was hiding in front of the scalloped hammerhead’s nose. And—”

“—You really like these things. Are you a marine biologist?” He suddenly interrupted you, tilting his head.

“Oh, sorry. I’m not. I couldn’t study something like that.” You didn’t elaborate. You glanced down at your hand, the employee’s hand casually holding yours. “Uhm. You, uh, don’t need to—”

“—Sorry.” He quickly dropped your hand as if he was burned. “Sorry. You just have… soft hands. Very comfortable.”

“Thanks,” you glanced at his name tag. “Nakamura-San.”

“Naka—?” He interrupted himself letting out a laugh, nodding slightly. “Right, right… I’m Nakamura.”

“Mhm. That’s what your name tag says.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Nakamura laughed. “Do you have anymore fish facts?”

“Aren’t you working right now? I don’t want to bore you.”

“It’s okay. I’m interested in learning.”

“Ah. Okay. Well, hammerheads give birth to live pups, and usually a female hammerhead can fertilize her own eggs without a male. But as soon as she has the pups, the baby hammerheads learn how to survive all on their own.”

“Really? They don’t need a parent?”

“No. They do just fine.”

“Self sufficient.” Nakamura hummed, pulling down his hat. “You’re interesting. Are you in school?”

“No. I uhm, work in the music industry.”

Nakamura perks up at that, looking over at you. Though you weren’t too sure due to his hat covering his eyes. “Really? Do you know Mo to Mo?”

You felt yourself freeze. “Ah, uhm, I’ve heard of them…”

“My friend really likes them. She blasts their music all the time, I think I know the lyrics by heart by now.”

“Mhm, they’re good, so I’ve heard.”

“Yea, have you—”

“—It’s Momoi Hiyori!!!!”

“Hiyori-San, sign my tits please!!!”

“Sign my forehead!!!”

“Momoi Hiyori?” Nakamura whispered as you felt yourself panic. The sounds of fans grew louder with the accompaniment of loud heels clicking against the floor.

There, your sister, hat long gone and mask off entirely, was sprinting your way. She was frantically motioning for you to start running as a crowd of fans were right on her heels.

“Crap.” You whispered, ready to book it but Nakamura grabbed your arm.

“Wait! Can I get your LINE ID?”

“LINE ID?” You whispered in shock. Only your family and manager had your LINE ID.

“Hurry up, Seabrain!!!!” Hiyori yelled, rushing past you.

You cursed and pulled out your phone, fumbling to open up LINE and show your QR code. “Here, here. Just scan it and add me.”

Nakamura rushed to scan the code, humming once he got it. “I got it. Let’s—” but as soon as he glanced back up, you were long gone.

“—hang out sometime…?”

He pulled off his hat and rubbed at his head. “He’s fast…” he glanced down at his phone and looked at your account.

Account Name: シーブレイン

“ぱらぱら” — 好きです

The profile picture was of a koi fish, a hand reaching into the pond to touch its scales.

“Seabrain? Cute.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

ナオイス

シーブレインちゃん, hi~ it’s ’Nakamura’

“Good, good. Lean down further, please. Beautiful.” The photographer said. The sounds of camera flashing and continuous talking almost caused you to miss your phone ringing. Which was strange.

You had little to no contacts. Who could be texting you? It had been nearly two weeks since you had went to Tokyo Sea Life Park. You opened LINE and were surprised to see a request.

“Naoise? Naoise?” You struggled to pronounce the name, tilting your head. What type of name was that? It was just nonsense. “Seabrain-Chan? Is he making fun of me…?” You huffed and turned off your phone, placing it face down on the table.

“Who’s making fun of who?”

You squeaked, glancing up to see Hiyori. She was dressed in a skintight bodysuit, hair slicked back with copious amounts of gel, sharp dark eyeliner and black lipstick. “Hah, answer me.” She said, reaching over to grab your phone.

“Ah, wait!” You reached over to stop her but she easily grabbed both of your wrists in one hand and unlocked your phone.

“Hm? N-Nao-Naoise? Hm, strange name. Seabrain-Chan, hi, it’s Nakamura. Who’s Nakamura?”

“Just an employee at the Tokyo Sea Life Park. He asked for my LINE ID before we had to leave.” You grunted, trying to pull your hands free. How the hell was your sister stronger than you?

“Aren’t you going to answer him? He’s your first contact that’s not family or a coworker. Here, I’ll answer for you.”

“Wait!!”

シーブレイン

(⌒▽⌒)☆ hey, Nakamura-Kun~ I thought you’d never text me

“Are you insane?! Why did you use the a text face?!” You whined, as Hiyori showed you the text she sent. “And I sound so desperate!”

“Why not? It’s cute.”

“Cute?!” You groaned. “Not at all, only kids use that!”

“Not true. My girlfriend sends them to me all the time.” She released your wrists and hands over your phone, pulling out her own to text her girlfriend. “Anyway, talk to this Nakamura guy, maybe he’ll get you to forget Arakawa.”

You frowned. There’s no way you’d ever forget him. Not someone like him.

ナオイス

Aren’t you cute? 悪いな, 海洋くん。

I got busy, my parents and siblings came to visit me since they missed my birthday Couldn’t refuse them

Marine-Kun? You rolled your eyes. Well, it wasn’t like he knew your name. You didn’t really feel like entertaining this any longer but you thought about how your life has been so far. Sure, you technically had fans but you did feel a bit lonely.

Back then, you could watch Naoki and feel moderately okay. Just seeing him was good enough to brighten your mood. But you haven’t been able to see him in two whole years.

Maybe you should… try to forget him?

You shuddered at the thought. Okay. Not forget him. Just, gain a friend.

シーブレイン

気にしない 。

I was busy too. I have to prepare for an upcoming single

ナオイス

Single? Woah

Are you a producer? Songwriter?

シーブレイン

Ah

“Sis!!!” You suddenly shot up, startling Hiyori. She glared at you. “What should I do?”

“What? Why are you screaming?”

“I told him I have to prepare for a single! But! I don’t know what to say? Who do I pretend to be? A singer? Or maybe a makeup artist? Songwriter? I told him I worked in the music industry, I can’t possibly be a makeup artist, oh what should say—!”

“Just say you’re a backup vocalist and are participating in the music video.”

“Ah.” You grin. “Smart. You’re so smart, Big Sis!” You give her a wet kiss on the cheek that she quickly wipes away with a groan, turning your attention back to your phone.

シーブレイン

Backup vocalist. I was just asked to participate in the music video.

ナオイス

mjk? すごい！

You’re cool. I’m just studying meteorology.

Probably become a weather forecaster ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

シーブレイン

Weather forecaster? Is that what you want?

ナオイス

No way

I was a baseball player but

Fucked up left leg, it was bound to happen, I already sprained it once

シーブレイン

それな are you okay now?

ナオイス

Yea. It’s been a year now, I’m

ksnjdnwbdow

You froze, raising an eyebrow. “Ksnjd… is this roman alphabet slang I don’t know?” You began typing the letters into the search bar when he suddenly texted you again.

ナオイス

悪いな。

I need to head back to work, almost got caught by my boss (＞人＜;)

See ya~ シュモクザメ (^_^)/~~~

“Hammerhead shark?” You grumbled, unable to hide the slight smile on your lips. “He’s going to call me everything in the ocean…” you finally took the time to actually see his profile picture. It was of a teddy bear, brown with an eye missing, close to the camera. Though you could still see the background of beach sand.

“That was fast, did you forget about Arakawa by now?”

“Never!”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“I’m not doing that again, Nakamura, those aquariums are stressful.”

Naoki sighed, shoving his phone into his back pocket. His hair was pulled into a ponytail as he slipped on some gloves. He began cutting up some fish.

“Why are you even in the kitchen?”

Nakamura rolled his eyes, “it’s my mom’s restaurant, I can go wherever. But c’mon, please? They’re only free on Sunday and I used up most of my vacation days already.”

“Sorry, I can hardly handle standing in here for three hours straight. I’m not doing your job for you again.” Naoki held up the knife, pointing it at Nakamura when he attempted to get close.

“Didn’t you get some guys LINE ID because of me?”

“Because of you?” Naoki chuckled, shaking his head. “Keep talking and you’ll replace this tuna.” He slid the knife clean against the tuna’s body, the head off without a second slice.

Nakamura rubbed his neck. “Sheesh. Fine fine. I’ll figure something out… so cruel. Ah, that Momoi kid is having a comeback soon. Do you still keep up with him?”

“No.” Naoki muttered, pulling out the spine from the tuna. “I haven’t since my accident. He stopped stalking me.”

“I still can’t believe you actually liked that he was stalking you.”

“You wouldn’t get it. But I’ve gotten over him, alright?”

“I’m glad I don’t. Try to form a healthy relationship with this new guy, okay?”

“Stop asking me to take your Sunday shifts for your mysterious babe, okay?”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

4 years ago

You were a senior in middle school, staring down at the lake beneath you. Your shoes were placed down beside you. Your backpack resting on the ground as you peered over the railing. You were a bit short back then, still lagging behind the other boys who were finally getting tall.

Hiyori had teased you’d probably end up her height. Lo and behold you were only an inch taller than her in the present.

“Is that… hm, what’s that one?” You whispered, pushing on your toes a little, trying to see what was floating above the water. It was a bit hard to see—the sun going down being your only source of light.

“They really need to make more light posts.”

You pulled at your uniform to only to feel your button pop loose, falling into the lake below. A curse was on the tip of your tongue as you looked down. It fell with a quiet plop, not even making enough noise or movement to seemingly bother the inhabitants of the lake.

The drop wasn’t high by any means. But the lake wasn’t safe for people to get in. It was deep and the current was surprisingly fast. Once you got swept in, it would be hard to leave. You were honestly wondering if this was actually a lake. It had to have been a river that was just unnaturally wide.

As you pondered what to actually call the body of water underneath the bridge, you heard someone yell.

You glanced to your left just before you tackled to the ground. A delayed cry left your lips from the sudden force. You awaited the pain but didn’t feel anything. The person who tackled you had managed to take the fall damage, now that you were laying atop of them.

You slowly gazed down, noting their middle school uniform, and to your shock—a leg brace on their left leg. A shocked gasp left your lips, catching sight of their forgotten crutches on the ground not too far from you.

This person… was insane?

Said person began to cough violently, their hands digging into your back. You sat up and made sure to not accidentally touch their left leg. The sunset was your only light at this point. Yellow-orange rays shined down on the boy beneath you.

His black hair formed around on the ground, resembling a halo. A little cut on his cheek. On his right cheek there was a mole, almost directly on his cheekbones. His hands slowly slide down your back before falling limply to the ground.

“Hey… Oi. Did you hit your head?!” You whispered, reaching down to touch the back of his head. Sure enough, as you brought your hand back, there was a bit of blood on the tip of your fingers.

You fished out your phone and quickly called for an ambulance. As you waited, you heard a little laugh. You glanced down to see the boy staring up at you, his lips slowly pulling into a little grin.

“At least..” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “The ambulance is for me.”

“What…? I—did you think I was going to jump?”

He didn’t answer, his gaze unfocusing. You gently rubbed his cheek, hoping to keep him awake.

“I was just looking at the water. I’m sorry, please don’t be too hurt because of me…” You frowned. The only reason your shoes were off was because the right shoe had torn open. You were just waiting for Hiyori to get back from the nearby convenience store with some flip flops.

Now you were waiting for an ambulance.

“Prob… just a concussion.” He suddenly whispered, humming slightly. “Don’t worry.”

“Don’t fall asleep. What’s your name?”

“Arakawa.. Naose.”

“Naose?”

“Se?” He began to giggle. “Did I say se? Nice? Ki… meant Ki.. Naoki…”

“Naoki?”

“Hm?”

“Stay awake, please. They’re almost here. Think about, ah, maybe the amount of sea life that can live in a river. How they live different to like, uh, ponds or lakes? Do you like koi fish?”

“Sorry… but that’s really boring…” He muttered, groaning. “I’m falling asleep.”

“Sea life is boring to you?”

“Very… but it’s nice that you like it. I think.. I like.. the sky? Dunno, heheh. Koi fish, is that your name?”

“Huh?”

“Koi-Kun, you… hehe, should be… hm… what was I gonna say?” He began to giggle, raising one hand to gently point at your nose. “Do you, poke fish noses?”

“Fish noses?”

“The weathers nice.” He changed the subject, eyes struggling to stay open. “Y’know… legs’ real ‘urt. Tink ade t rse. Heheh.. ably never play gain.”

“Play what?” You gently patted his face, causing him to open his eyes again.

“Baseball. Mhm… just for a second… lemme..”

You tapped him again. “Stay awake please.”

“So mean…” he gazed over at you, a little smile on his lips. “You…. Pretty.. in a weird way. Koi-Kun.”

The sound of sirens caught your attention before you could respond. “Ah, they’re here! Hey, hey, Naoki-San, Naoki-San!”

That was how you met him, giving him a concussion and perhaps ruining his baseball career.

Young love (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

ナオイス

くらげさん, おはよう～(・ω・)ノ slept well?

シーブレイン

Jellyfish? That’s new, are you going to stick with a nickname or just keep calling me new ones each time?

ナオイス

∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ of course～ でも！you know the kanji for jellyfish, right?

シーブレイン

海月? Umi? Tsuki?

ナオイス

Ya, Sea Moon, if you directly translate it in English wwwww

It’s what I think of you, cold and deep, so mysterious, like the sea～ and round, bright, and shiny, like the moon～

シーブレイン

Bright? The moon?

Most people wouldn’t agree with that, the moon doesn’t provide its own light

ナオイス

Right

But it still shines, even if it needs some help

Think of me as your sun, helping you shine,

Sea Moon～ (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

Later, I have class

“Holy shit.” Hiyori cursed, staring at your phone in shock.

You and ‘Nakamura’ have been chatting for around two months now. The conversations were pretty boring for the most part. Honestly you assumed he’d stop talking to you due to how dry and cold you were. But he’d always respond quickly.

He always made time to respond to you. He even said his name wasn’t ‘Nakamura’ but he never told you his actual name. Not like you asked, you probably should.

He was really into using text faces. At first you viewed them as childish but you got used to them. They could be cute, occasionally.

You two shared pictures but never of yourselves. Just of dinner or any other item that was interesting enough.

“He.. he must like you!” Hiyori whispered, looking over at you. “Who could say something so.. casually?!”

“He can’t. He doesn’t even know what I look like! Or who I actually am! He’d freak out.”

“I doubt that.” Hiyori sighed, rubbing her hands through her hair. “You should try sending something, see if he’s just those friends who are poetic platonically.”

“What would I send?”

“Something sexy.”

“No way.”

You sighed, rubbing at your face as you stared down at your phone. Okay, you’ve always had a problem with saying no to your sister’s ideas. After some goading, you reluctantly took a video.

Hiyori already told you what to say once you pressed send. The video was just of you recording yourself in one of the outfits for your recent music video. It was one of your more scandalous outfits, skin tight pants with holes throughout. A see through shirt and a choker. Chains decorated the outfit.

It was a whole thing.

The video was only about ten seconds. You made sure to have your face out of frame as you pointed your phone down at your pants. There was a mirror right across from you, you laid on a couch, legs spread out, back slightly arched. Your hand was shaky as slid down to your crotch.

Pants button was already open as you gently gripped the edge of your shit that was tucked into the pants, slowly pulling it out. The slightest glance at the thin, tight black briefs you wore before quickly ending the video.

Hiyori’s ‘excuse’ was a simple and planned: “oooh, sorry sorry! I didn’t mean to send this video!” Then you’d send a normal video just showcasing your outfit in the mirror, standing up.

Good enough excuse since you could feign innocence, both videos did have you in the same outfit. And so long as you goaded ‘Nakamura’ into asking for what you wore for the video—it’d make sense.

Hiyori had said that ‘Nakamura’ would either forget and push past the video, or get horny.

You didn’t know what exactly you wanted.

You were a bit scared at the thought of making him uncomfortable—losing your first and only friend you have right now. But there was a small little part of you that was curious, deadly curious to how he felt about you.

ナオイス

Did you go to bed yet?

I can’t sleep (｡ ́︿ ̀｡)

You shot up from bed, staring at your phone.

This was your chance.

シーブレイン

Still awake

Is everything okay?

ナオイス

I’m ok (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) just a bit of pain in my leg again

But it stops after a few minutes

What～did～you～do～today～？ᶘ ᵒᴥᵒᶅ

シーブレイン

I filmed the music video

It was for a b-side song for the artist’s album that came out a few weeks ago

Very fun, so busy, the outfits were nice

ナオイス

wowowo ♪( ´θ｀)ノ すごいね！

What were the outfits? The singer didn’t make you wear trash bags so you wouldn’t outshine them, right~? (ﾟoﾟ;;

Today I just had class, my friend was blasting Mo to Mo’s new album, it’s catchy

シーブレイン

ww no they didn’t do that

We got good outfits

Oh, you changed your profile pic

You glanced at his picture, taking note of the new one. It was of that same teddy bear now directly in the sand. A human hand held out a peace sign, acting as if that was the teddy bear’s own hand.

シーブレイン

You really like that teddy bear

ナオイス

You noticed?

Yea, I do, it was given to me in my senior year at middle school

Don’t remember who gave it to me, just woke up in the hospital with it in my arms

Mom said the person left a note, just telling me sea life isn’t boring wwwwwwww ╭(╯3╰)╮

Anyway~ send send!!

You paused. Sea life isn’t boring? No, it couldn’t be. You shook your head. Sure, it was very specific, but—you couldn’t be the only person to write a note like that. Besides, that teddy bear is basic. Yea, it’s not you. No way. No, way.

You rubbed your face as you pulled up the video. You hesitated. Should you really do this? Wouldn’t it be more mature to just ask him if he might like you romantically? That would be smarter. Less manipulative.

Not like you could talk. You stalked a boy for four years straight. The only reason you stopped was because your schedule was overwhelming and any free time you had, you just wanted to sleep. Besides, you didn’t know where Arakawa Naoki really was anyway.

Sure you knew the school but it was a well known and large university. There were so many students. You didn’t even know what major he went in for. It’d take you awhile to find him.

Just as you were debating to yourself, your finger pressed against the screen. You glanced down to see that you sent the risky video.

Well—

You almost screamed in panic, ready to unsend the message but it was too late. It showed that he saw it. He viewed it. He more than likely just finished watching the full ten seconds.

Oh god.

It was a slow and agonizing minute as you stared at your phone, almost waiting for him to cuss you out. But instead, you got a video.

Your finger hovered over the video before pressing play. You quickly paused it though, reaching over for your headphones. Even if your room was on the other side of the shared apartment, you didn’t want to risk it.

After a deep breath and the little beep telling you the headphones were connected—you pressed play once more.

The video was a bit dark, the soft glow of the moonlight being your only light. A shuddered sigh left ‘Nakamura’ before he pointed the camera to his pajama pants. He tugged at the waistband, pulling it far before letting it snap right back against his skin.

A tight grunt left him just as the video ended.

ナオイス

Am I overthinking things?

It wasn’t an accident, right?

シーブレイン

It technically was

But I recorded the video with you in mind

Silence. You almost wondered if you went too far.

ナオイス

Can you show me more?

シーブレイン

Like another video?

ナオイス

Yea

I’ll send too

Not even a second later, he sent another video. You didn’t hesitate to play it. The video was mostly silence, the sound of sheets rustling as he kept the camera at his pants. His free hand returned to the waistband and tugged, but this time his pulled it further down.

You expected him to have been wearing boxers but to your surprise, his cock was now free. It was already leaking wet—coating white pre cum on his soft stomach. Now free, his hand grasped his cock, his thumb rubbing the pre cum across the head.

ナオイス

Kinda, hard to type one handed

Do me a favor

Masturbate like you’re alone

Don’t hold back

Your body involuntarily shivers as you reach over and turn on your fairy lights, allowing a little bit of light. You pointed the camera to your lower half, kicking the sheets off the bed.

You hesitated for just a moment before pressing record. Should you talk? You didn’t really speak a lot in general unless spoken to. Shaking your head, you slip two fingers into your mouth and suck, coating them with your saliva.

Despite feeling a little anxious, you didn’t attempt to muffle the wet sounds. You pulled your hand away and reached down, using your thumb to pull down your boxers. Your cock plopped out free, beginning to harden due to your rising excitement.

A low sigh left your lips as you reached down between your legs. Because of the angle, he wouldn’t be able to see much. But he would be able to hear the squelch as you easily slipped in two fingers inside your ass.

He would be dumb to not realize you must’ve masturbated an hour or so ago.

You ended the video just as your cock sprung to life, pressing send immediately. The wait for his response almost felt like torture. Your cock leaking dejectedly on your stomach. Your legs shifted on the bed as you tried not to continue on to reach your third orgasm of the night.

Not even a minute later he replied to you.

His video was straight to the point—the teasing long forgotten.

His hand grasped his cock as he jerked himself off. The sound of his shallow breaths and wet gasps filled your ears. You forgot all about recording another video, thrusting your fingers in and out, easily reaching your prostate.

You dropped your phone and gripped your cock, sighing at the relief. His moans were driving you insane—you wanted to hear it in person. Wanted to be the one touching him. Hearing every sharp gasp, watching his body shake from the pleasure.

“….gonna.. cum…”

A grunt your lips at his words. It sounded as if he struggled to even say those two words, his voice wet and shaky. You couldn’t hold back anymore. Being overstimulated from your previous masturbation didn’t help. A rub right against your prostate and a wet stroke of your cock, you were cumming right as he released a wet whimper.

You bit your lip to muffle yourself as much as possible, eyes threatening to roll to the back of your head. Your phone pinged again just as you remembered you forgot to record something.

ナオイス

Sorry, haven’t really

Properly masturbated in awhile

Did you cum at least?

シーブレイン

ええ

I came early too, don’t worry about it

It’ll be longer next time

ナオイス

Next time? ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

Do you like me, Sea Moon~?

You paused. You liked him enough to masturbate but. You wiped your dirty hands on your boxers. The word like was always associated with Arakawa Naoki.

Even now. Even after your little session with ‘Nakamura’…

You could only see a mole on a cheek and messy hair.

No. You didn’t like him.

Just as you were about to respond, he sent a picture. You opened it without a second thought, expecting a risky photo.

But the sight caused you pause.

It was of him.

‘Nakamura’.

Even with only the moonlight as your guide, you knew him. You knew Arakawa Naoki. Even if only half of his face was visible. The infamous teddy bear was in his arms. Half of his face resting on the pillow, a shy grin on his lips.

The mole rested on the same spot it always has, greeting you in the moonlight.

His hair messy and wild. You wondered if you were delusional for thinking it looked like it formed into a halo on the pillow.

ナオイス

Since you can’t actually see me

Post sex wwww (*ﾉωﾉ)

Pretty, right~?

神ってるね?

You couldn’t think. What should you say? Of course he was pretty. He’s been the only person you’ve ever constantly thought about. Even in two years that you haven’t seen him—he’s only gotten more beautiful.

But, you couldn’t possibly do this to him. Stalking him for four years and suddenly you had semi phone sex with him. Sure Hiyori never out right said anything but you knew she wanted you to act more ‘normal.’

Especially with you now in the public eye. You can’t just watch him in the shadows. You were an adult, you had fans, two years of leaving Arakawa Naoki alone to live his life peacefully.

You should end it here.

But here’s the thing about you.

You needed Arakawa Naoki as much as you needed air to breathe.

And here he was, offering himself on a silver platter.

Two years without him and it felt like torture. It felt as if you couldn’t live without him. Before you could watch him from afar and survive but now…

Now you can’t stand by anymore.

You’ve experienced life without Arakawa Naoki and you promised yourself to never experience it again.

シーブレイン

荒川直樹

ナオイス

???

Huh? How’d you get my name?

From my account? Did I tell you and just forgot?

You smirked at your phone, going to your account and changing your name. It really was him. To think he returned your affection after all these years.

シームーン

You probably don’t even know my name, but I’ve been watching you since our senior year in middle school

I thought I lost you

But you’re here, it’s like you were waiting for me

Were you, Arakawa-San?

ナオイス

Momoi-San…?

Did you

You knew this entire time?

You ignore me for two years then knowingly make me believe I’m texting someone else this whole time?

You’re sick, is that singing career of yours not fun enough? Your girlfriend?

Some man you are — I hope the videos were worth it

He was typing too fast for you to even respond to one of his messages. Girlfriend? You didn’t know he was Arakawa until today, what the hell was he talking about?

シームーン

What? What are you talking about?

Hello?

Arakawa-San?

Each message you sent was sent with an error. You tore off your headphones as you sat up, staring down at your phone in complete shock.

He blocked you.

Lol. Yall want a part two? You’re basically turning into a yandere btw. Comment if you wanna be tagged!

Words/Slangs:

クククククククククククククククララララララララララ, おぉ〜 ??????? 悲しい嬉しい !!!!!!!! — Kukukukukukukukukukukukuku Klaralalalalalalalala, ohhh ??????? Sad and happy !!!!!!!!

悪い髪 — bad hair

行きたくない、行きたくない！姉さん、お願いだから — I don't want to go, I don't want to go! Please, sister

“ぱらぱら” — 好きです — “parapara” I love it (it’s the Japanese onomatopoeia for rain sounds)

悪いな, 海洋くん — sorry, marine-kun

気にしない 。— don’t worry

mjk? — まじか (majika) Roman alphabet slang. Means “really”

すごい！— amazing

それな — Sorena, to express sympathy

くらげさん, おはよう～ — morning, Jellyfish-San

でも — but

wwwwww — Japanese’s lol or lmao

ええ — mhm

神ってるね? — heaven-sent; out of this world. He’s basically asking if his looks are godly

シームーン — sea moon

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @tehyunnie @star-3214 @ning1e @anchoredphoenix @cherry-blossoms-187 @kiiyoooo @chill-guy-but-cooler @iwishtobeacrow @mello-life25 @smellwell @ofclyde @yuzuukix @remdayz @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world @castocipher @tomoeroi @love-kha1 @secretivemessenger @bensontrechic

[luvbatsy]

Now nothing’s the same PT. 2 | Mark Grayson x Male!Reader

Summary: It’s been two weeks, and you still can’t face Mark. Can’t hear his voice, can’t stand his face, can’t bear his touch—because everything about him reminds you of the things you’ll never have again. Of the lines you weren’t supposed to cross. Of all the things that will never be the same.

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Male!Reader

Warnings: 18+, very brief mention of SA (but it’s a misunderstanding), dry humping/frottage, oral (Mark receiving), anal sex, anal fingering, belly bulge.

Tags: There’s more plot than porn but there IS porn (eventually), so—Porn with Plot, Reader is highkey not okay, self-hatred, extreme guilt and shame, misunderstandings, light angst, fluff, getting together, morning sex, Top!Mark, Bottom!Reader.

w.c: 22.2k  |  a/n: English isn’t my first language, so sometimes the tenses might be a little inconsistent in the flashbacks! I got kind of lost in my own narrative style (why did I do this to myself? lol). Anyway, it’s finally here. 20k+, baby. I’m honestly a little nervous because a lot of people were waiting for this one, and I really hope it lives up to what you were expecting. Also, thank you for the comments, the likes, the reblogs—I see every single one and they mean the world to me. Enjoy!!!

Part 1 | You're here

By the time your phone’s ringtone cuts out for the tenth time this night, you’re left staring at the screen with a hollow numbness.

The notifications glare back at you—missed calls in angry red, all bearing the same name, each one a fresh stab of guilt. Below them, a flood of unread messages piles up. You won’t open them. Can’t open them.

Because you’ve done the worst thing imaginable.

You betrayed Mark.

Mark, your best friend since fifth grade. The one who, along with William, had pulled you into their duo like you’d always belonged there. The person who laughed with you, stood by you, trusted you.

And you betrayed him.

Now, the mere thought of Mark makes your stomach churn with nausea. The shame is suffocating, a filth you can’t wash away, sinking into your skin like a brand. You feel disgusting. A monster. Because that night with his variant—the one who was all darkness and hunger and twisted devotion—exposed the worst parts of you. The pathetic, desperate parts. You’d poured every unrequited longing into a warped imitation of the boy you loved, because you were starved for it. For the way he looked at you. For the way he wanted you.

And that’s what sickens you most. How easily you gave in. How badly you wanted it. How, for just a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe that Mark could ever lov—

Your fingers dig into your hair, breath hitching.

No. You can’t face him. Can’t even answer a simple phone call—to what end? To hear the disgust in his voice? To confirm just how much he hates you now? To witness the exact moment your friendship shatters beyond repair?

(Vaguely, you remember the shattered window, the jagged shards of glass dispersed across your floor, dust swirling thick in the air.

And then you, thinking, oh he’s going to die.

But in that moment—still half-dazed, aching, your body heavy with the lingering aftermath of sex—you don’t know if you meant him. Mark. Your Mark. Your best friend, the one who has always been nothing but good to you. Or him. The other Mark. The one who took you apart with a smirk, the one who claimed you as if you were already his.

You knew the fight was inevitable. Knew one of them would kill the other. Knew it would be like watching an immovable object meet an unstoppable force.

And when the dust cleared from Mark’s thunderous landing, when you saw his murderous expression mirroring the alternate’s, when their identical hatred burned through the tension—

For one terrifying heartbeat, you couldn’t tell which was which.)

You throw yourself onto the bed, yanking the covers over your head like they could smother the memories—or the shame.

But no amount of hiding could erase the evidence still etched into your skin. The bruises that just wouldn’t fade even after two weeks. Deep purple and stubborn, they mapped every place he had touched, bitten, kissed. There wasn’t a single inch he’d left untouched. Of course not—he’d been thorough, murmuring your name in desperate whispers, sucking marks into your neck like he wanted to devour you whole.

You flinch, shaking your head to dispel the thoughts. The replay. But you did this often—remembered the rasp of not-your-Mark’s voice, the way his hands had gripped you with possessive desperation.

Because you’d liked it.

God, you’d loved it.

It had been a fantasy ripped straight from your most secret thoughts, and the proof still lingered on your body, both exhilarating and humiliating. Worse still was how your skin prickled at the memory. How even now, just thinking about that night makes heat coil deep in your gut, no matter how much you want to suppress it.

(Cecil Stedman would stand over you, his expression unreadable, hands clasped behind his back.

“Are you hurt?” he’d ask, eyes flicking over you, assessing.

You’d freeze, blood draining from your face as you realized—your fingers were fumbling with the collar of your hoodie, tugging it up, up, up, instinctively trying to hide the bite marks beneath.

They wouldn’t know. They couldn’t know.

The GDA agents had swept into your apartment just minutes after Mark had thrown his variant through your shattered wall with a punch that shook the building. By then, you’d already be fully dressed, face burning with shame and self-loathing, hating the way your legs still trembled from the lingering aftershocks of pleasure.

There was no way Cecil could know what had happened. No way Mark would have told him on his way here.

And yet—still, you’d shrink into yourself, pulling at your collar, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, yanking your hoodie’s hood low over your face. You’d eye everyone with barely restrained panic, thoughts spiraling—they’ll know, they’ll see, they’ll realize— 

“Don’t worry,” Cecil would say, sensing your unease. “Despite our differences, I know Mark always gives his all to protect the people he loves.” 

You’d flinch. Close your eyes. Shrink even further inward.

“…I know,” you’d murmur, voice hoarse and raw.

Cecil would interpret your withdrawn attitude as a trauma response or shock. He wouldn’t know the truth—you wouldn’t tell him. And the others in his team could only guess, while you tugged at your collar again, desperately trying to conceal the bruises blooming on your neck, the tremor in your legs, the ache in your body—the stickiness still drying on your thighs.

“Mark will take care of it,” Cecil would assure you. “No one can hurt you anymore.”

Yet, guilt would seize you by the throat.

Because the truth would weigh heavy on your tongue—how you had arched into those cruel hands, how you had begged him to take you, how the tremble in your body wasn’t from fear, but from the awful, shameful wanting still thrumming under your skin.)

Your throat bobbed as your fingers drifted to the darkest bruise on your neck, pressing down just to feel the ache. The pain was sharp, immediate—a reminder that it had been real. That he had been real.

And that you’d let him.

And fuck—if it doesn’t make your body tingle, heat up, and freeze all at once. If it doesn’t make you a horrible friend all over again. That’s why you’ve been ignoring Mark’s calls. Why, as your phone buzzes in the silence of your room, you refuse to pick up. Refuse to hear his voice. Refuse to stand before him.

Because now you know.

You know the way Mark’s kisses taste like. Know the shape of his body, the flex of his muscles as he moves over you. Know the sounds he makes when overcome with desire—the quiet gasps, the low groans, the desperate moans. Know the way his cock feels, hot and heavy, buried deep inside you, making you see stars and stealing every last bit of air from your lungs. You know the way his hands grip your hips, how perfectly your bodies slot together, the pressure building and building, the obscene slap of skin on skin as he fucks you into the mattress—

Jesus.

Your fingers twist in the sheets, body shuddering as the memories surged back—vivid, hungry. This is why you can’t face him. Because he knows what you did. You both do. How the hell can you ever look at Mark in the eye again? Knowing that now—now—you can never suppress your feelings again, never shove them back into the corner of your heart where they belonged. How do you face him when every glance sends your pulse racing? When your body remembers what it’s like to be loved by him—even if it wasn’t really him?

Just thinking about it makes you lose your grip, heart hammering, body shivering. Because it remembers.

And there’s no way in hell you’ll ever be able to forget.

That’s why you grab your phone, Mark’s name flashing for the nth time, and finally power it off.

The silence that follows is deafening. But the noise in your head doesn’t stop—the endless, pounding thoughts reminding you that you don’t deserve Mark. Not his kindness. Not his forgiveness. Hell, maybe not even his anger. Not the sharp edge of his accusations, not the fury in his screams.

You deserve nothing from him.

(“Nothing,” you’d answer, avoiding his piercing gaze as he studies your body. “It’s really nothing, Mark.”

You’d try to ignore the way his breath comes in sharp pants, the blood staining his suit, how his eyes seem wild with something you can’t place.

Right then, he would remind you too much of the other Mark—who walked into your apartment with that razor-sharp smirk, who ruined you after. Ironic, how now your Mark looks just the same. Only this time, the blood belongs to that version.

The fight’s over.

Your Mark stands victorious.

And deep down, you knew this was always how it would end. You knew he’d be the one left standing.

Still, somewhere beneath it all, you’d try not to think about his variant, who had whispered your name like a prayer just hours ago, gripping you like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“Nothing?” Mark would repeat, voice raw and cracked from exhaustion and the tension hanging between you two. “Y/N, you’re—you’re hurt. You need to get checked out—”

He’d step forward, arms reaching for you. But you’d flinch, stepping back, desperate need to put distance between you, because you feel filthy, disgusting, and you can’t let him touch you like this.

He’d freeze, hands hovering awkwardly in the air, his expression faltering between hurt and disbelief. Then his eyes would flicker to the exposed skin on your neck, to the wound where not-your-Mark had bitten you hard enough to draw blood, then to your lips, swollen and tender from his kisses, and finally to your eyes—red-rimmed, glistening with unshed tears.

Mark’s expression would twist. Just the slightest. Just enough to reveal the anger beneath the exhaustion.

“I wasn’t hurt,” you’d whisper, voice quiet, weak, barely holding together. But the shame would force the words out anyway—force you to confess, to lay yourself bare, to make him hate you. And with your face burning, throat tight, you’d add, so, so quietly— “And you know it.”

Mark would go silent, his shoulders sagging, face falling as if the weight of everything had drained the life out of him. And you—God, you’d want him to hate you. To finally look at you with the disgust you’ve earned. Punch me, you’d think as the silence stretches. Yell at me. Scream at me. Hate me.

But after what feels like an eternity, all he’d say is, “...I don’t—I don’t understand. Why—”

“Kid,” Cecil would interrupt from down the hall, voice clipped and irritated. “The fight’s not over. We’ve still got at least ten Invincibles around the world. Stop the chitchat and get back to work.”

But Mark wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t budge. Even when you couldn’t meet his eyes, he’d stay rooted there, mouth forming words that won’t come—

“Kid,” Cecil would repeat, louder.

And this time, Mark would turn, his broad back facing you, his expression hidden from view.

It’d be his voice—deliberately measured, controlled—that’d betray just how much he was holding himself together, like he was speaking through clenched teeth. “We’ll talk, Y/N. Alright? We’ll talk… later.”

And then he’d be gone, launching into the sky, leaving you behind with the suffocating need to be hated.

Because if he hated you, if he was furious, if he despised you—then it’d be so much easier to just walk away.)

“Fuck…” you whisper, the familiar sting settling deep in your chest, a raw, aching pain that makes you sink further into your mattress, wanting to disappear. “I screwed everything up, didn’t I? Fuck…”

Now, with your phone dead, no calls ringing through, no texts demanding your attention, you’re left alone with nothing but the desperation of your own thoughts, drowning in self-loathing and shame. You can’t stop thinking about everything you wish you could change. All the things that will never be the same.

William has been trying to reach you, too, these past few days. You’ve seen his messages pile up—confused at first, then worried, then frustrated when you vanished completely. And you know it’s not fair to him, disappearing without a word, without an explanation. But you can’t face any of it—not the mistakes, not the consequences, not even your friends.

Not Mark.

Because the embarrassment is unbearable. Because the guilt is eating you alive.

Even here, tucked away in this borrowed apartment with its unfamiliar walls and cold silence, you can’t escape it. After that night—after Mark tore through the walls, shattered your window, with the only mission to kill the variant who dared touch like that—you had no choice but to move somewhere new. Somewhere Mark didn’t know. It’s the only reason he hasn’t shown up yet—hasn’t hovered in front of your window demanding that long-overdue conversation.

With a heavy sigh, you bury your face in the pillow. If you can’t escape your thoughts awake, maybe sleep will silence them. That’s the lie you tell yourself, when loneliness settles into your chest like a second skin, its weight overshadowed only by the remorse festering in your mind.

And as consciousness slips away, you wish—not for the first time—that you’d never fallen in love with Mark Grayson in the first place.

When you wake up hours later, sweat clinging to your brow from dreams you can’t recall, it’s not the sun that rouses you.

It’s the sound.

A soft, rhythmic tapping—knuckles against glass. Insistent. Steady.

Your heart skips a beat as you jolt upright, body tense, sheets tangling around your legs as drowsiness evaporates. You scan the room, blinking hard, trying to convince yourself you imagined it— 

But there it is again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your muscles go rigid. Because this is the twentieth floor. No one should be knocking through the window.

You glance at the clock on your nightstand. Nearly six in the morning. The sky outside is still draped in gray. Just who in the world—

And then it hits you, the realization sinking in like cold ice.

Who else could it be?

Who else but the one person in the world you’ve been trying so damn hard to avoid—who could casually knock on your outside window like this, despite the fact you’re hundreds of feet above the ground?

Mark.

It must be him. It’s always him. Right outside your window grinning like an idiot and ready to tell you all about his day like it was the most important thing in the world.

But that was before.

Now you doubt he’s here to talk about his day.

You sit frozen, breath shallow, heart pounding like it’s trying to escape your chest. How the hell did he even find you?

Cecil swore—

(“Please,” you’d beg, hands clenched into tight fists. “Don’t tell Mark.”

It would be the third day since the Invincibles’ invasion and destruction, and Mark would still be out there—fighting, barely holding on, while you cowered in GDA safehouses. You’d already demanded a new home, a new phone—now you just needed Cecil’s silence.

“I can’t. He’s threatened me more times than I can count this month alone,” Cecil would grumble, rubbing his temples. “You think I can hide his best friend without a way to trace you? He’s gonna lose his shit.”

You’d hug yourself tighter. “I know… but he’ll understand it’s me who doesn’t want to—” see the disgust in his eyes or hear the betrayal in his voice “—talk.”

“The answer’s still no, kid,” Cecil’s tone would brook no argument. “From the way he reacted when I told him about the rogue Invincible heading your way? I wouldn’t want to know what he’d be capable of doing if I kept this from him.”

Your heart would stutter then freeze—shame and longing and self-loathing and love crashing over you in nauseating waves.

“Then...” you’d swallow around the lump in your throat. You dreaded the moment the fighting stopped, the moment Mark came looking for you, demanding answers. “Then… give him my number. That should be enough, right? If he’s worried, I’ll answer. But don’t tell him where I’m living now.”

Cecil would study you for a beat too long. Just as panic starts creeping up your spine—

“Fine.”

You’d blink. “Really? You swear?”

He’d sigh, long and insufferable, like he was so done with all this. “I swear. Now get out. I still have important shit to do—like saving the world.”

You wouldn’t waste a second, already turning on your heel, heart racing now that you knew you could walk away from Mark without having to deal with the shitty thing you’d done. Without explaining. You could pretend it never happened. Let him hate you for it—that’d be easier.

“But—” Cecil’s voice would stop you cold. When you glanced back, his gaze was piercing as steel. “The second he thinks you’re in danger and wants anything to do with it… the deal’s off.”

You’d process the warning for a moment—but then, you’d think… there’s no way Mark wouldn’t hate you now. There’s no way Mark would want anything to do with you now.

So you’d nod, knowing you’d be safe.

Because after the Invincibles came Conquest, and the aftermath of their fight, and the countless deaths... and you’d know that Mark had enough shit to worry about to even spare you a single thought.)

Fucking Cecil—he sold you out. It’s barely been two weeks. How could you possibly be in danger?

And yet, the tapping continues—more urgent now, almost frantic. You don’t need to look to know it’s Mark. You feel it. The way your skin prickles, the way your pulse stutters, your body shuddering as if it remembers.

He came for you. And maybe… maybe you always knew he would, no matter how many times you convinced yourself he’d hate you enough to never look back.

Still, your body locks up, sitting bolt upright in bed, torn between throwing the window open or sitting there, pretending you’re not home, praying he gets bored and leaves.

But the moment your feet slide to the floor, the second you stand, legs carrying you forward—your body already knows the answer. Because if Cecil gave him your address, that means Mark’s worried. That means he won’t leave. And more than that—You want to see him. Despite everything. Despite the shame, the guilt, the dread curling in your stomach like a cold fist.

Because god, you missed him. You miss him.

Your palms start to sweat, knees unsteady beneath you. But you take a breath—a deep, uneven breath—and decide to just do it. Hear him out. Let him yell. Let him cut you off. Just… rip off the fucking band-aid and move on.

With a trembling hand, you draw the curtain aside— 

And with your breath caught in your throat, you finally see him.

Mark’s reaction is immediate. One moment, his fist is raised, his expression twisted in anxious concentration, frozen mid-motion to knock again at your window. But then—his eyes widen, brows lift in surprise as his mouth falls slightly open.

“Y/N—” his voice comes muffled through the glass, both palms pressing flat against it like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. “Y/N, oh my god. It’s really you. I’ve—” a ragged gasp cuts him off, breath fogging the window between you. “Are you—fuck, are you okay? I’ve been—God, we’ve all been—William and Eve and—and everyone. You just stopped answering your phone and William couldn’t—and the texts wouldn’t get through—I thought maybe you were—”

His rambling cuts off abruptly when you flip the window lock and slide it open.

The sudden lack of barrier leaves Mark statue-still, his eyes darting across your face with alarming intensity. You notice the slight sheen in his eyes, the way his lips tremble as they part and close, his shoulder raising and falling, fast and shallow.

“I’m okay,” you mumble, staring at your feet. The concern in his voice feels like a knife twist. After everything, he shouldn’t still care this much. “I’m sorry.”

The words seem to shatter whatever trance Mark was in, because the next thing you know, he’s crossing the gap between you in the blink of an eye. You’re forced to step back, a huff escaping your lips as his arms wrap around you in a desperate, tight embrace.

“Oh my god...” he mumbles, voice barely above a whisper as he buries his face into the curve of your shoulder. “I’m glad—so glad you’re okay.”

Despite his words, no matter how relieved he sounds, your body tenses against him. Your arms stay stiff by your sides, refusing to return the hug. Mark notices immediately—of course he does. You can feel him stiffen, too—his breath catching when he notices how your body freezes up, the way you seem to pull away from him without moving an inch. In a flash, he’s pulling back, hands flying up in surrender like he’s been burned.

“F-fuck—sorry! I know I shouldn’t—after what... after him—” he winces, eyes snapping shut in frustration, like he can’t stand himself. “I—I just... needed to see you were safe.”

He glances away now, his shoulders sagging, the tension in his posture dissolving into something sad and small. His lips twist downward into a pitiful frown, and when he speaks again, it’s quieter.

“I’ll go. I get it. You don’t wanna see me anymore.”

Shit.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

Where’s the anger? The betrayal? The screaming match you’d braced yourself for?

You’d imagined this moment a hundred times—Mark bursting in, furious, disgusted, finally giving you the hatred you deserve. Not this... this crumbled version of him, respecting boundaries you never knew were there, looking at you like he’s the one who did something wrong.

It’s not fair.

You were ready for anger. You could’ve handled anger.

But not this.

Not Mark, sad.

Your hand moves on instinct—snapping out, grasping his wrist before he can float off again, knuckles white from how tightly you hold on.

“Don’t—” you choke, the word catching on a breath you didn’t mean to let go. “Don’t go.”

His breath catches audibly when you stop him. You feel the shift in his posture as he turns back toward you, his pulse jumping under your fingertips. When you dare a glance up, his gaze burns into yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

And fuck—no, you can’t do this. Can’t look at him, can’t face him. You were right to keep your distance. So, without thinking, you quickly avert your gaze, feeling the heat rush to your face—shame, embarrassment, self-loathing… you don’t know what it is anymore, but it’s making you burn, your cheeks flushed in a way you wish you could stop.

“We need to talk, right?” you force the words out, voice dry, cracking a little. “Then let’s talk.”

Even though you really, really don’t want to. But you owe him this. You’ve been avoiding this conversation long enough, running from it like a coward.

“Right,” he whispers softly, voice barely audible. “Let’s… talk.”

Yet neither of you say anything. The silence stretches between you, awkward and thick and heavy. That’s when you realize—your hand is still on his wrist. You let go like it burns, flustered and flinching back as if caught doing something you shouldn’t.

That’s when you really look at him.

He’s not wearing his  suit, nor his goggles. Just Mark Grayson, in a sweater and jeans, standing in your tiny room like a regular boy. He didn’t come here as a hero, just as your best friend. And judging by the way his hair’s a mess and his eyes are rimmed with exhaustion, he probably rushed. Probably didn’t think twice before threatening Cecil into giving up your location. Probably didn’t even try to hide who he was, flying all the way to the outskirts of the city at dawn, with nothing shielding his identity.

Anyone could’ve seen him. Anyone could’ve guessed who he was. But still, he came. All of that… just to be here with you. To find you. To make sure you were okay.

The silence shatters when you blurt out, “Are you okay? I wasn’t there when—with Conquest—” your voice cracks. “God, I’m sorry.” Another reminder of what a shitty friend you are. “I’m so sorry.”

Mark rubs at his neck, a familiar nervous gesture. “Don’t worry about it. Honestly? I’m glad you weren’t there. You shouldn’t have to see me... like that.”

You hum in response, eyes darting everywhere but him—walls, floor, the curtain still fluttering from when you opened the window. God, the awkwardness is suffocating. Why can’t you cut through it?

Then, quietly, Mark continues. “About… whatever happened. That day.” His voice is tentative, like he’s afraid even saying it might make you crumble. “You don’t have to talk about it. I get it. You’re probably—” he swallows thickly “—traumatized.”

Traumatized?

Your eyes flick up at him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

His eyes stay fixed on the floor. “I’ll give you all the time you need. And if you can’t ever—” a shaky breath. “If seeing me is too hard, I get that too.”

“Mark,” you shake your head, confusion tightening your chest. “What do you mean?” And then, dread begins to settle deep in your bones, a cold fist wrapping around your heart. “What… what do you think happened?”

He recoils like you’ve struck him, nearly stumbling back through the window frame. His mouth opens, closes, then opens again—

“Don’t make me say it.”

You freeze.

Brows draw together, thoughts racing, flipping through every possible thing he could mean—until you see it. The guilt carved into his face. The way he’s carefully keeping his distance, like he’s afraid to spook you. His eyes flick, just for a second, to your neck—where faint marks still linger, bites and kisses pressed into skin that’s long since stopped feeling warm. His expression darkens.

And then it hits you.

(You’d read his messages after the battle was settled—after the smoke cleared and the city stopped screaming.

One after the other, each one hit like a blow to the chest. Guilt. Remorse. Regret soaked into every word.

Mark (2:03 AM): I’m sorry I wasnt there

Mark (2:04 AM): I’m sorry I let it happen

Mark (2:06 AM): I should’ve been faster

Should’ve gotten u somewhere safe the moment we knew

(Missed Call - Mark - 2:07 AM)

Mark (2:18 AM): im sorry

can u pick up the phone?

Mark (2:22 AM): y/n

Mark (2:25 AM): ples

Mark (2:25 AM): please

(Missed Call - Mark - 2:33 AM)

Mark (3:37 AM): I’m sorry. Im sorry. Cecil said u didnt want to talk

Mark (3:39 AM): I get it...

Mark (3:45 AM): im sorry

shouldve never let this happen to u

Mark (3:47 AM): im sorry)

Suddenly, horribly, you understand.

“Oh my god, Mark,” you exhale, dragging both hands over your face as the heat floods in—burning shame, disbelief, something sick and sour twisting in your gut. “God… I don’t—I wasn’t—whatever you think happened to me, you’re wrong.”

Mark frowns. His lips press into a thin line, his jaw tightening. “What do you mean I’m wrong?” he says, voice low, tight with frustration. “Y/N—you don’t have to… I mean, if you’re trying to comfort me, or spare me, or whatever—”

“I wanted it!” the words spill out before you can stop them—louder, sharper than you intended.

But you need to say it. Need him to see you for what you really are—a disgusting, traitorous, filthy human being who took advantage of the situation. Who let himself melt at the first touch of hands that weren’t Mark’s but carried his face, his voice, his warmth. A hypocrite who’d spent years pretending your feelings were platonic, only to come undone the second some twisted reflection of Mark offered you everything you’d ever craved.

God, so this is why there’s no yelling, no accusations thrown at you. Because Mark—your Mark—still sees you as someone worth trusting. Someone worth protecting. Someone who, in his mind, must have been tricked, coerced, hurt. Even after listening whatever happened that night—the sounds of skin meeting skin, the desperate need in your voice as you begged the other Mark to make you come, to unravel you in his touch—he still thinks you’re the victim.

Shit. Shit.

Your arms fall limp at your sides, exposing the damning evidence purpling your throat. “That’s what you’re not getting,” you whisper, tears blurring your vision as you stare at the floor between you. “He didn’t force me. I let him. I—” your voice cracks “—I begged.”

Mark doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.

And you can’t stop.

“You should hate me,” you choke out, and god, your voice sounds wrecked. “The person you think I am? That’s not real. I mean, look at me—” A wet, shuddering breath. “God, look at me. After everything I said about still being friends? Pathetic. I’m not your friend. I’m can’t be your friend,” your shoulders shake. You wrap your arms around yourself. “Just—just hate me already.”

You still won’t look at him. Can’t bring yourself to. The silence stretches, broken only by the wind whistling through the open window, raising goosebumps on your skin. And that silence—it feels worse than yelling would’ve.

Hot, heavy tears slide down your cheeks, burning against your skin. Because maybe now he sees it—what you are, what you did, and what you, even now, can’t fully regret. Because fuck, it felt good. So good.

And because you can’t even lie to yourself and say you wish it hadn’t happened, is exactly why Mark should walk away.

Why he should look at you with disgust.

Why he should despise you.

That’s why—

A warm hand cups your cheek.

Mark’s touch is featherlight, his thumb brushing just beneath your eye, catching a tear as it falls. The softness of it, the quiet gentleness of him touching you like you haven’t just shattered everything between you—it steals the breath right out of your lungs.

When you look up, confusion clear on your face, he simply says, “You know I hate when you cry.”

Your lip trembles, and a weak sob escapes before you can stop it. Of course. Even now, after everything, he offers kindness you haven’t earned.

Then he’s moving—stepping into your room. Into your space. Into you. Without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, slow but sure, like he’s done a hundred times before. He tucks your head against his shoulder, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rubs slow circles between your shoulder blades.

You melt into him almost instinctively, breath hitching in ragged gasps—like you’ve been drowning, and only now are you finally breaking the surface. But then doubt creeps in—hesitation lingers because you’re not sure you should be this close to Mark, should allow yourself this comfort. But despite everything, you slowly bring your arms around him, unsure but needing him more than you’ve needed anything in the past two long, empty two weeks since you ruined everything.

Because fuck—Mark is everything you’ve been craving. Because this is the Mark you know and love. The Mark you fell for. Gentle, kind, steady. Warm in a way that feels like safety.

And when you bury your face in the crook of his neck, his scent hits you—familiar and grounding—and it makes your head spin. His body, solid and real, holds you like you’re still someone worth holding onto.

“Y/N,” Mark says, voice low and rough, vibrating against your ear. “I could never hate you.”

You shudder as tears well up again—hot and blinding—spilling over as you squeeze your eyes shut. He’s too good. Too gentle. And it hurts.

His embrace is everything the other Mark’s wasn’t—steady instead of desperate, grounding instead of possessive. He holds you like he’s afraid you’ll break, like he sees you, and it’s unbearable.

“I know,” you whisper, voice muffled against his shoulder. “But you should.”

He pulls you closer at that, impossibly close, until there’s no space left between you. And you try—God, you try—not to notice. Not the heat of his hands tracing soft circles on your back. Not the way his breath ghosts along your ear and neck. Not the matching rhythm of your breathing, your heartbeats thudding in sync, chest to chest. You try to ignore it all. Because it’s too intimate. Too soon. Too much to handle when your body still remembers the weight of his—his—naked body against yours. The slide of sweat-slick skin, the hitch of breath against your ear, all breathy moans and hushed gasps.

“No,” Mark blurts suddenly, voice tight, shaking with regret. His fingers fist into the back of your shirt like he’s terrified you’ll pull away. “You should hate me. I was a total asshole to you, Y/N. For weeks. Months, even. And you were right. I wasn’t being fair to you. I ignored you, pushed you away, treated you like crap, and I didn’t even have the guts to tell you why.”

He swallows hard, his next words coming quieter, more broken.

“And then, when it really mattered, I couldn’t protect you. I failed you. You should hate me,” he exhales, his arms tightening around you ever so slightly. Then, in a single, intimate whisper right against your ear, Mark adds, “I’m sorry.”

The words lodge in your chest, unexpected and disarming. That tight knot of guilt loosens just enough to let you breathe.

I’m sorry. The words come so suddenly, so softly, that you almost miss them. You were supposed to be the one asking for forgiveness, the one weighed down by guilt and regret—not Mark.

What Mark did—keep you in this strange, distant limbo for weeks, barely speaking to you beyond polite conversation, and looking at you with a mix of discomfort, guilt, and something else you can’t quite place ever since the day you confessed your feelings—was never something you could truly blame him for.

You were the one who couldn’t keep it in. The one who let your feelings spill out and ruin everything. The one who wanted to still be his friend, desperate to keep him in your life, clinging to any scrap of him you could get.

You were the one who promised yourself you’d move on, who told Mark as much.

And then you ruined everything again.

Because the moment someone with Mark’s voice, Mark’s smile, Mark’s face reached for you, you didn’t stop him. You let yourself fall into him like he was this Mark—as if that made it okay. You let him touch you, claim you, own you in ways this Mark never did, never agreed to—while all you could do was gasp and beg for more.

God. And Mark’s the one saying sorry?

“I forgive you,” you say, the words slipping out faster than you can stop them—too eager, too willing to let months of confusion and pain be wiped away with a single breath.

But as you speak, you feel the wrongness of this moment. You can still feel the heat in your cheeks, the way your skin tingles where it touches his, the dizzying familiarity of his scent flooding your senses. Your body remembers. It remembers. Every place he touched you, every mark he left, every kiss still lingering like a brand. And even if it wasn’t him—wasn’t your Mark—it doesn’t matter.

Because your body doesn’t know the difference.

And you know, with sudden clarity, that this has to end.

“I forgive you, Mark,” you repeat, quieter this time. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s in the past.”

Maybe he hears it—that slight shift in your tone. The edge of something final curling around your words. Because then his arms tighten around you—not restraining, just holding. Just keeping you close a little longer.

“That means we’re still friends, right?” the question comes out muffled against your shoulder. You don’t need to see his face to picture the crease between his brows, the hesitant frown you’ve known since fifth grade. “Y/N?” His voice cracks. “Because I forgive you too. Whatever happened that night—” his breath hitches “—it’s in the past for me too, alright?”

You open your eyes. The morning sun is rising outside your open window, spilling pale light through the fluttering curtains. A breeze slips through and brushes against your skin, drying the last of your tears. There’s an odd calm in your chest now, the quiet certainty of a decision made.

For one lingering moment, you let yourself stay—letting the warmth of his body soak into yours, letting yourself pretend—just for a heartbeat—that things could be simple. That they are simple.

Then, gently, you pull away, slipping from his arms with predictable ease. Because of course he lets you go. Of course his hands fall open the instant you retreat, always respecting your boundaries, even now.

Mark stands still as you step back, gaze dropping to the floor, unwilling to meet his eyes.

Mark shifts uneasily. “Y/N...?”

“No.” The word comes out steadier than you feel. “We can’t be friends.”

Mark doesn’t respond right away. You can feel the weight of his confusion, the way he’s trying to process your words, replaying them in his mind as if he might’ve misheard.

“What?” he breathes, voice small and cracked.

You swallow hard, nails digging into your palms. “I can’t do it. I can’t pretend everything’s fine. I can’t go back to what we were because—” you suck in a breath and let the truth crash out of you, unfiltered. “Because I can’t trust myself around you, Mark.”

Mark goes utterly still.

“Because when you hold me like that, I start remembering... things that weren’t real. Things I shouldn’t want.”

A beat.

Mark’s hands twitch—like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. His mouth opens slightly, like he’s about to speak, but nothing comes out.

You don’t stop. You can’t stop. You have to tear through the illusion before it starts to wrap around you again—before you slip, before the memories seduce you back into longing.

“I know it wasn’t you,” you continue, forcing the words through the lump in your throat. “I know you don’t see me that way. And I know it’s not really your fault.”

You glance away, arms folding tight around your chest like a shield—an instinct born from shame and desperation, as if you could protect your body from betraying you all over again. Of remembering it.

(The way not-your-Mark would hold you, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.

The unbearable pleasure coiling tighter and tighter.

The way he’d groan and growl against your lips as his hands roamed your body, gripping and groping every inch of exposed skin.

The way his lips would brush against yours, both of you panting, gasping for air, and still leaning in—still trying to kiss, to steal whatever breath the other had left.

The way his hips would move, his body joined with yours, each thrust hitting just right, so deep inside you.

“I love—” he’d pant, his rhythm faltering. “I love you, Y/N.”

And how do you recover from that?

How do you erase it?

How do you look Mark in the eye when your body still aches with memory?

You don’t.

You can’t.)

A traitorous shiver runs through you, heat blooming under your skin like fire.

“But I can’t unfeel it,” you rasp, voice hoarse and cracking. Your cheeks burn with the triple weight of shame, guilt, and something far more damning—arousal, thick and undeniable. “I can’t unknow what it felt like to be—” you hesitate, then force the word out “touched like that—by you.”

You take a step back. Then another. And another, putting precious distance between you.

“And I can’t go back to being just your friend like none of it ever happened, Mark,” you continue, breath hitching. “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry. There, it’s your turn.

The words hang in the air, cold and final. This is the moment the fragile thing between you fractures beyond repair.

You can’t be his friend. Not when just looking at him sends your mind reeling with flashes of skin and heat, of whispered promises and breathless moans and the ache of being wanted. It plays behind your eyes in obscene, impossible detail every time you blink. And it’s not fair—not to Mark, who trusted you. Who never asked for this. Who deserves better than your traitorous body and its wretched, persistent wanting.

Let him hate you now. Let him recoil from the truth of how badly you’d craved it—how part of you still do. His hands. His mouth. His moans. The way he’d murmur I love yous like a prayer against your skin—

“What—what are you saying?” he asks, voice rough with disbelief. He takes a step forward, closing the distance you so carefully created. “That this is—it? Just goodbye? Don’t… Y/N, just—look at me.”

When you don’t, his fingers brush your chin, tilting your face up with a gentleness that undoes you. The tears on his lashes glint in the sunlight.

“You think I can just walk away?” he says, voice raw and aching. “Pretend like you’re not my friend anymore? Like I can forget you? Like—like I can hate you? When I—”

He breaks off, his brows drawing tight, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as frustration flickers across his face. For a heartbeat, he closes his eyes, as if bracing himself, before reopening them, locking onto yours with an intensity that nearly breaks you.

Then, softer, more vulnerable than before, he asks, “You remember I needed to tell you something? Before everything went to shit, before asshole versions of me started crashing through our world?”

Your eyes flicker over his face, confusion and turmoil knotting inside you. Still, you take a deep breath, slowly nodding. “You wanted to tell me the reason you’ve been pulling away,” you murmur, voice quiet. “You said it was because of my confession…” The words taste like ash. You exhale sharply, the ache in your chest blooming fresh as you take another step back. “God, Mark—just forget it. It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t need an explanation. I know why you pulled away,” you swallow hard. “I ruined it. That’s on me.”

“No, no, Y/N,” he says urgently, voice desperate as he steps forward, closing the gap between you with stubborn, desperate steps. He’s now deep into your room—into your life, the way he always does. And you know, without him saying it, that he’s not leaving. “Just—just listen to me. Please.”

And then, as if he can’t bear to let you go, he does something that completely catches you off guard. His hands reach for your face, warm and steady as they cup your cheeks, rough fingers pressing against your skin. You freeze instinctively, breath catching in your throat.

He tilts your head gently, making sure your eyes meet his. And there it is. His gaze—warm, brown, familiar—pierces through the wall you’ve tried to build, melting the icy grip around your heart. There’s something there in his eyes, something that’s been there for months now, something you recognize but still don’t understand.

For some reason, your heart picks up its pace.

“The reason I’ve been pulling away is because I—I was confused,” Mark says, his voice cracking, thumbs tracing shaky circles on your cheeks. “Because I didn’t want to hurt you—or say the wrong thing. And I thought—I thought maybe if I kept my distance, if I just gave it time, it’d all go away. That you’d move on. That I’d be okay with it.” He lets out a shaky breath, jaw tightening. “But I’m not okay with it. I’m not okay with losing you—not now, not ever. Because every damn day since you told me, Y/N… I’ve been—”

He chokes on the rest, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly, calloused fingers trembling against your cheeks.

“Every day since you confessed, I’ve been wanting to—” a frustrated growl rumbles in his chest as the words get stuck in his throat as if they were physically painful to admit. “Fuck. I’ve wanted—”

The sentence dies on his lips again, but the way his gaze drops to your mouth says everything he can’t.

And suddenly, the air feels too thick, too tight. You can’t breathe. Not anymore.

You feel the heat of his stare, the way it burns through your skin, and the space between you grows impossibly smaller. It makes your chest tighten, heart hammering. Every inch of you is aware of how close he is, of how much he invades you. His touch, his presence, his warmth—all of it settles into you, tingling against your skin.

You want to step back. You want to create some distance, to breathe, to think—but his hand stays firm on your face, thumb gently brushing away the tear you didn’t even know had fallen. And God, it’s just like that other version of him, that hunger in his eyes—the need that burns too brightly for you to ignore.

“…Mark?” you ask, low and uncertain. “I don’t—I don’t understand.”

His eyes darken as they trace over your face, dipping to your lips in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. His breath hitches, just slightly, when you unconsciously lick your lips, an instinct you can’t control under his intense gaze.

“God, don’t make me say it,” he murmurs, voice rough. His forehead presses against yours, the heat of his breath mingling with yours, soft and shaky. “Y/N, I want—I need to—”

Whatever he’s about to say, he doesn’t. The words get caught again, but he doesn’t need to say anything more. Not when he answers in the only way you’ll believe him.

Mark leans in, closes the last bit of space between you, and kisses you.

Your eyes flutter shut unconsciously, a startled gasp catching in your throat as his lips meet yours.

The sensation—Mark’s lips, warm and firm and real against yours—obliterates all coherent thought, leaving you lightheaded and trembling. And then, one final thought cuts through the haze like lightning.

Mark Grayson—your Mark Grayson, the one you’ve known since fifth grade, the one you’ve been secretly in love with since eighth, the kind and good Mark—is kissing you.

The thought alone makes your knees buckle, your pulse roar in your ears, your breath come in shallow pants against his mouth.

“Mark…” you breathe, managing to pull back just enough to speak, your cheeks blazing. “What—”

But he doesn’t let you finish. He’s kissing you again, harder this time. Both hands cradle your face, pulling you in like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

Your breath stutters, lost between his lips and your own racing heart. You don’t even realize he’s maneuvering you until your back meets the wall, his body pressing you there, surrounding you completely in his warmth, his scent, his safety.

When he finally breaks the kiss, it’s with a soft exhale that ghosts across your tingling lips. The sound is equal parts contentment and barely restrained hunger, as if he’s both savoring this and already aching for more. He rests his forehead against yours, breathing ragged. When his eyes open—dark and blown wide—they shine with something fragile and new and raw.

“Y/N…”  he whispers, voice hoarse and trembling. “Shit. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I’ve been too much of a coward to say it. But, Y/N, I—” He pauses, his expression softening, brows furrowing in that way that always makes you ache, the slight pout of his mouth tugging at your heart. He inches closer, his breath warm against your lips, and in that breath, he whispers, “I’m in love with you.”

Your lips part, expression faltering as tears threaten to fall again, blurring your vision. The weight of his words, of his confession, pulls something tight in your chest, unraveling the last of your restraint.

Mark’s thumb gently brushes under your eyes, catching the tears falling, his gaze filled with a quiet regret. “I’ve loved you for so long. And I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out. I guess—I guess I was so used to having you in my life that I didn’t even realize what I was feeling. And when I finally started to get it, I freaked out. I pushed you away because I was scared. Scared of—of what it could mean.”

A shaky inhale, both yours, his, it doesn’t matter.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispers again, leaning in closer, his breath mingling with yours, so close now you can feel the heat of him. “I love you. I love you. I love—”

You silence him with a kiss—partly because your racing heart can’t take another declaration, partly because you’ve dreamed of this moment for what feels like forever.

The heat of his mouth against yours sends fire through your veins, and suddenly you’re clinging to him, fingers twisting in his shirt as you melt into the embrace.

Mark groans against your mouth, his body pinning you to the wall with a delicious pressure that makes your head spin. But you don’t care—can’t care. Not when every inch of you is burning, not when all you can think about is the soft, urgent way his lips move against yours, like he’s been starving for this.

When you part your lips to deepen the kiss—greedy, desperate, aching to be closer—his tongue slides against yours in a slow, exploratory caress that draws a whimper from your throat. The sound seems to unravel him—his hands drop from your face to your waist, gripping hard as he pulls you flush against him. You can feel the wild hammering of his heart through his chest, its rhythm perfectly synced with yours.

“Shit—” he breathes against your swollen lips, his cheeks flushed deep pink. “I can’t get enough of you, Y/N. I can’t—”

You tangle your fingers in his hair, yanking him closer until your breaths are mingling, quick and desperate. “I get it,” you whisper, voice thick. “Mark—just—don’t stop. Keep kissing me.”

Mark does just that.

His arms tighten around you, and the small, needy noise he makes in the back of his throat sends a rush of heat through you. The solid warmth of him holds you steady when your knees threaten to give out, his presence completely consuming, anchoring you in the overwhelming feeling of being wanted, of being wanted by him. And when he nips at your lower lip, the sharp burst of pleasure-pain makes you arch into him with a broken moan.

Shit—shit.

Your body remembers too much, too vividly, and it doesn’t take more than Mark’s feverish kisses—all teeth and tongue and desperate, gasping breaths—for your skin to start buzzing with heat, for arousal to stir sharp and sudden in your pajama pants.

His hands roam with a nervous, almost clumsy urgency, shaking slightly as they slide along your body. You can feel his inexperience in the way he hesitates between touches, in the hitched breaths against your lips—and god help you, it only makes you harder, heat flooding your veins until you’re certain your blush stretches from your cheeks to your chest.

“Mark,” you murmur breathlessly between kisses, “Mmh—Mark…”

You try to say something—warn him, maybe—to tell him that maybe you should slow down, take a breath, but he kisses the words right out of your mouth. And damn, it’s embarrassing how quickly your body betrays you—how just the feel of him, warm and solid and real, reduces you to this trembling mess. He’s only kissing you, for Christ’s sake, yet it feels like he’s branding himself into your very bones.

Still, a coil of anxiety twists low in your stomach. You’re afraid he’ll notice. Afraid he’ll freeze and freak out. Because as far as you know, Mark’s never been with a man—never even kissed one. His alternate version, sure, seemed experienced, confident, knew exactly how to touch you and make you moan. But this—this is your Mark. And the way he kisses you—eager, almost awed, his breath catching like he’s afraid this might all be some kind of dream—it feels different. And if his confession earlier was true—if he’s spent months wrestling with his feelings—then Christ, this might be his first time doing any of this with another guy.

And shit—maybe this is going too fast. You’re getting so fucking turned on and don’t want to scare him off, but—

“Oh, fuck, Mark—” the whimper tears from your throat as he pulls you closer, almost desperately, like he wants to melt into you completely. And when his hips press against yours, the friction makes you jolt, breath catching in your throat.

Your dick is rock hard. You don’t need to look down to know this. And judging by the way Mark suddenly stops kissing you, breath heaving as he pulls back just enough to look at you, flushed and wide-eyed, you know he can feel it too.

The sight of him—messy hair, lips swollen, breath ragged—is so fucking hot you feel your cheeks burn even hotter, shame and desire twisting together in your gut.

“I’m—” you start, ready to pull away, to gather yourself, to put an end to this heated moment before you completely lose it. “I’m sorr—”

But Mark doesn’t let you finish. His hips snap against yours in a sharp, deliberate thrust, erasing every inch of space between you. A broken noise escapes you as you finally feel it—the hard, undeniable length of him straining against his jeans, big, just like you remember.

Mark whines, his breath hitching as he rolls his hips again, slow and experimental this time. The sound he makes is downright filthy, a shuddering sigh against your lips.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, forehead dropping to yours. He does it again, and this time you both moan, the vibration mingling between your mouths. His voice is wrecked, shaky with want. “Y/N—fuck—can I…? Please, can I…?”

You don’t even know what he’s asking, but it doesn’t matter. Not when he’s this hard, this needy, rutting against you like he’ll die if he stops. Not when every ragged breath, every desperate thrust, tells you he wants this just as badly as you do.

“Yes,” you choke out, hands fisting in his shirt to pull him closer. “God, yes—”

Suddenly, your feet lift off the ground. The world tilts as Mark lifts you with that effortless superhuman strength, his hands firm beneath your thighs, until your back meets the wall with a soft thud. Your legs lock around his waist instinctively, pulling him flush against you until every inch of your bodies align—chest to chest, hip to hip, the hard length of him grinding against yours in a way that makes your vision blur.

“Mark—”

His name spills from your lips in a breathless moan as you roll your hips, unable to stop the desperate friction.

It still doesn’t feel real—that after all these years of pining, of biting your tongue through every casual touch and forced smile, of convincing yourself it’s okay to be just friends, of him telling you he didn’t see you that way—he’s here, kissing you with the same frantic need burning through your veins.

So the words escape in a whisper, raw and shy with years of pent-up longing, “I love you.”

Mark’s groan vibrates through your chest, his grip tightening on your ass with barely restrained need. “Yes, yes—” his voice cracks, eyes blown wide with vulnerable sincerity when they meet yours. “I love you too. God, I love you.”

Something in you cracks at that, and you yank him forward, lips meeting in a messy clash of teeth and tongue. There’s no finesse—just frantic, open-mouthed kisses as your hips move in a desperate rhythm. Every roll of his hips sends electric shocks down your spine, pulling ragged gasps from your throat. You can feel everything—the thick drag of his cock against yours, the tremors in his fingertips where they dig into your skin, the wild hammering of his heart where your chests press together. The growing dampness between you only fuels the fire, fabric sticking uncomfortably as precum soaks through layers of clothing.

It’s overwhelming.

He’s overwhelming.

Mark nips at your lower lip with a broken whimper, and for one dizzying moment, you want more—more of his warmth, of his weight pressing you into the wall, of his hands gripping your skin hard enough to leave fingerprints, of his strength pinning you in place like he never wants to let you go. You want him to consume you, to claim you, just like—

Like—

Like his variant. The one you let touch you exactly like this just two weeks ago. The one who kissed you, ruined you, took everything you had to give simply because he looked like your Mark. Sounded like him. Moved like him. You let him in, let him leave his marks on your body—because you were desperate. Because you missed this Mark so damn much it hurt.

All at once, the heat evaporates and the fog of arousal clears. You’re acutely aware of the growing shame, the sudden weight of your guilt pressing down on you.

How dare you? How can you stand here, grinding against your Mark, kissing him as if you didn’t just betray him in the worst way? As if you didn’t let some twisted reflection of him fuck you senseless. As if you didn’t moan I love you to a monster wearing his face. As if the bruises have faded when they’re right there, purpling under your shirt where Mark’s fingers rest now.

Mark freezes the second your body goes rigid against his. His eyes flutter open—hazel gone dark with want, now clouded with confusion.

“Y/N...?” his voice is rough and uneven. “What’s—did I hurt you? Did I—fuck, was that too much?”

He slowly puts you down, feet safely back to the floor, although his hands hover over your waist, trembling—still touching, but not squeezing anymore. Like he’s afraid he crossed a line. Like he’s the one who should be ashamed.

And god, that just makes it worse.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say, voice small and barely convincing. “I just—”

Your hand lifts before you can stop it, fingers brushing along the tender skin of your neck—right over the bruises and bites the other version of Mark left behind. Still there. Still vivid. Still haunting.

Even after your Mark killed him, that other Mark lingers. Clinging to your skin like a curse you can’t scrub away.

Mark’s gaze snaps to the movement, his eyes tracking your fingers with a focus that makes your pulse stutter. You see the exact moment his gaze changes. His pupils narrow, his jaw clenches. That barely-contained storm behind his eyes. You’ve seen it before, that look, and now recognized it for what it is. Jealousy, raw and unguarded, before he wrestles it back under control.

You look down quickly, heart sinking under the weight of shame. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, because what else can you say?

(You wished they had disappeared along with the alternate Mark.

Every time you’d look in the mirror, you’d wish those marks could vanish—make it easier to forget, to pretend it hadn’t really happened.

But no matter how many times you’d wash, how hard you’d scrub until your skin turned red and raw, they’d still be there.

Eventually, you’d give up, sinking into the hot stream like you could melt into it—like you could drown the guilt, the shame, and the hunger that still throbbed beneath your skin, embedded in every lingering kiss.

Then you’d shut your eyes, mistaking the heat for his touch, the steam for his breath. You’d press your fingers into the bruises he left, hard, like you could still feel him there.

And the heat—God, the heat—wouldn’t come from the water anymore. It’d rise from deep inside you, from the places he had touched, heat coiling low in your belly every time you touched them.)

“I’m sorry,” you say again, softer this time.

You feel like you’ve messed it up—again. Like any second now, Mark’s going to snap out of it, take one good look at you and regret all of it—regret the kissing, the grinding, the confession.

“Why are you sorry?” Mark asks instead, head tilting, that painfully familiar puppy-like confusion softening his features. Then his gaze drops back to your neck, to the bruises purpling your skin, and his expression twists—something between a pout and a grimace. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but it’s difficult for him to even ask. “Do you…” he hesitates, swallowing hard. “Do you want him more?”

“No!” you answer immediately, the idea so absurd it’s nearly offensive. “Of course not.”

Because it’s always been Mark. Always.

You’ve spent these last few days pretending it was him, after all. Imagining it was your Mark’s hands that touched you, his voice that whispered those filthy, obsessive promises against your skin. Dreaming it was your Mark who kissed and claimed you, fucking you so deep into the mattress you’d never forget it was him. Every time you closed your eyes, it was him. Even when you woke up shaking, sweaty, needy—it was always him.

Still, your fingers linger on your neck, shame and guilt twisting in your chest like a knife. The bruises feel like damning evidence of your betrayal—like they’re proof of something ugly, something that might disgust him.

You can’t help the question that slips out, barely above a whisper. “Do you want me less?”

Mark doesn’t hesitate.

“No,” he says, like it’s the simplest truth in the world.

And you just stare at him, torn between disbelief and overwhelming relief. It doesn’t make sense—none of this makes sense. Because—because why? Why would he forgive you? Why would he still want to want you?

Mark sees the doubt in your eyes before you even speak. His hand lifts slowly, hovering just for a moment—until it settles against your cheek, warm and gentle.

“I don’t want you less,” he says, firmer now, his gaze locked onto yours. “I just—” his thumb strokes your cheekbone, his voice dropping to a rough whisper “—hate that it wasn’t me.”

Your heart stutters.

“I hate that he touched you like that—that I wasn’t there to stop it. Or—” he falters, jaw tightening as if he’s choking on his own thoughts. His cheeks flush, matching the heat on yours. “Or—fuck—that it wasn’t me. The first to do it.”

Your breath catches, lips parting in a silent gasp. His thumb strokes your cheek absentmindedly, and you lean into it instinctively, like your body knows what your brain hasn’t caught up to yet. His breathing grows shaky, his gaze darting from your eyes to your lips to the marks on your neck—lingering there, his tongue swiping unconsciously over his lips while something hungry blooms in his gaze.

“I should’ve said something sooner,” Mark murmurs, almost to himself. “I should’ve been brave enough to tell you I loved you. That I wanted you. That—”

He cuts himself off, closing the distance between you in one decisive movement. His eyes darken, glassy with want as they flick between your lips and the bruises on your neck.

Then—slowly, so slowly—his hand trails from your cheek to your throat, his fingers skimming the marks with featherlight touch.

“Can I…?” Mark breathes, eyes flicking between your neck and your eyes, trembling at the edge of control. “Please?”

You shiver beneath his touch, voice catching in your throat. All you can manage is a small, trembling nod.

It’s all he needs.

Mark presses you back against the wall, his arms locking around your waist with a possessiveness that sends your pulse skittering. His face buries into the crook of your neck, breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts that raise goosebumps across your skin. His lips hover—barely touching, achingly tentative—and you can’t tell if he’s teasing or just being careful.

Either way, the anticipation is torture. It’s too intimate. Too much. Too not enough. You need more, more, more.

“Mark…” you breathe, voice impatient, eyes slipping shut as your fingers tremble behind his back, clinging to the fabric of his sweater like it’s the only thing anchoring you.

Finally—finally—Mark kisses you.

His soft, warm mouth finds a bruise. He lingers for a heartbeat, then deepens it, tongue sweeping over the purpled skin in slow, deliberate strokes. A sigh escapes you, your head tipping back to give him better access as your body goes pliant against his. Mark groans, low and full of approval, the vibration traveling straight to your dick. His tongue works harder now, sucking over every bruise like he’s trying to erase them, replace them. Like he’s marking you all over again but this time with his. Like he’s trying to say mine.

“Shit, Mark…” you groan, pressing closer, chasing the friction you both left behind just a minute ago, desperate to build the heat until it swallows you whole. “Mark…”

He answers your unspoken need without hesitation. His hips snap forward, meeting yours with a roughness that punches a groan from his lips and a moan from your throat. The sound seems to unravel him—his hands tighten on your waist, pinning you flush against the wall as he sets a relentless pace. You can’t move, can’t think, can only roll your hips in time with his, each thrust drawing out another broken sound.

And all the while, his mouth never leaves your neck—sucking, licking over the bruises like he’s determined to replace every one of them with his own. Bigger. Darker. His tongue branding you with every slow, hungry drag, possessive suck.

“Fuck—mmh, Mark…” you gasp, voice wrecked and breathless, your body trembling from how much you feel him—his cock pressed thick and heavy through your clothes, his tongue hot and wet against your neck, his fingers digging into your skin with a needy kind of desperation.

It’s all too much.

Your head’s spinning, floating, untethered. You’re not even sure this is real.

“Mark,” you whisper, hoarse and pleading, “kiss me. Please. Kiss me.”

Mark pulls back from your throat with a ragged gasp, lips flushed and slick, eyes dark and dazed. And then he’s on you again—hand twisting into your hair, dragging your mouth to his in a brutal, breathless kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue and heat, the kind of kiss that’s more collision than contact.

You moan into him, a fractured sound that melts right into his mouth. He swallows it greedily, groaning back with a breathy, needy sound of his own. Neither of you can breathe—it’s evident in the way your chests heave between frantic kisses, in the dizzying exchange of panting breaths, yet neither of you dares pull away. Neither of you even think about slowing down.

And it’s that—the burn in your lungs, the ache in your chest, the way your head spins from oxygen deprivation—that tells you this is real. God, it’s so real it hurts.

Mark Grayson is kissing you.

Not the maniac from another dimension. Not the twisted version of Invincible who destroyed cities and killed thousands before paying you a visit.

This is your Mark—your best friend who laughs too loud, who geeks out over comics. The boy who’s just as inexperienced as you are, yet kisses you with a determination that makes your knees weak.

This is the boy who’s a hero, not a monster.

It’s everything at once—the crushing weight of Mark pressed against you, the rough drag of his thick cock against yours through layers of fabric, the obscene wetness soaking both your pants as his hips roll in desperate, uneven thrusts— that does it. That coils the tension in your gut tighter until your legs shake violently under the weight of it. His moans vibrate against your lips, ragged and desperate, and when his hips stutter—once, twice—you break.

Your vision whites out, mouth falling open in a silent cry as you spill into your boxers, your entire body seizing around him. But Mark doesn’t stop—his thrusts grow faster, lost in the haze of pleasure, and the overstimulation wrings a choked sob from your throat—toes curling, thighs trembling as your oversensitive cock twitches helplessly. In a daze, you bite his lower lip hard enough to draw a startled whimper from him.

Then your head falls back against the wall with a wet gasp, a silver strand of spit still connecting your swollen lips.

“Ah— fuck, Mark…” you wheeze, vision swimming, the world tilting dangerously. “Fuck, fuck… I can’t—I’m gonna—”

Mark’s gaze sharpens, the lust clearing just enough for him to look—to take in the way your legs tremble around his hips, the obscene wet patch blooming across your thin pajama pants, the way your knees keep buckling from the aftershocks still rolling through you.

“Shit—” his voice cracks, hands flying to steady you. “Y/N—fuck, are you—? Did you just—?”

The raw awe in Mark’s voice makes your flush deepen unbearably. “Shut up, Grayson,” you mutter, eyes darting away.

“Oh,” he breathes, voice raspier now, fingers digging into your hips like he’s trying to ground himself. “Oh, that’s so hot.”

You groan, pressing your hands to his shoulders, squeezing hard as you squeeze your eyes shut, mortified. God. You just came from grinding against him, both of you still fully dressed, like some desperate teenager. The humiliation burns worse than the pleasure.

“Should we—” Mark starts, voice unsure, cracking a little as he swallows hard. “Should we stop?”

You blink slowly, catching your breath, heartbeat still loud in your ears. The high is fading enough for you to register how hard he still is—his jeans pulled tight around the obvious strain in them, and he looks like he’s suffering. You shift awkwardly, skin burning, but the answer is easy. No, you don’t want to stop. Not even close.

“I could,” you whisper, “suck you off.”

The second it leaves your mouth, your face goes up in flames. You want to bury yourself under a rock—but you don’t take it back. Not when Mark’s breath catches in his throat, when his grip on your waist tightens, and he stares at you like you just offered him the goddamn world.

“Huh?” he blurts, like his brain just short-circuited. “You mean—you don’t have to. I can—shit, I can just—”

You yank him down by his collar, cutting off his rambling with a firm kiss.

“Mark,” you murmur against his lips, “I want to. If... if you do.”

A bead of sweat trails down his temple as he nods, rapid and jerky. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, sure. Absolutely. Please.”

The eager, clumsy response pulls a laugh from you—soft and fond. God, this is your Mark. Awkward and earnest and perfect. And you love him exactly like this.

Then, you’re sinking to your knees—right there against the wall, with Mark still caging you in. Your pulse roars in your ears as you look up through your lashes, watching his reaction unfold in real time. His lips part on a silent gasp, eyes wide like he can’t quite believe what’s happening. Your heart races. His, too—you can see it in the rise and fall of his chest, the way he’s already breathing unevenly, fingers twitching at his sides before he braces them against the wall for balance.

You’re nervous—your hands tremble a little—but you mask it with a veil of confidence, your gaze steady as you reach for the waistband of his jeans. You’ve never done this before, not for anyone. But you’ve thought about it. Over and over. You’ve fantasized about this exact moment—him, always him—Mark in your mouth, groaning your name, falling apart for you.

And the thought alone has your mouth watering.

Your fingers fumble with the zipper, heat blooming in your cheeks as your mind races with possibilities. You picture him thick and heavy on your tongue, imagine the weight of him, the taste of him deep in your throat. Your lips part instinctively, anticipation pooling low in your stomach.

You glance up one last time.

Mark’s already leaning into the wall, palms flat against it like he’s afraid his knees might give out. His cheeks are flushed, pupils blown wide, chest heaving—and you haven’t even started yet.

A thrill licks up your spine, tugging a small smile to your lips as you watch him squirm.

Finally, you tug at the waistband of his jeans, peeling it down along with his boxers in one slow, deliberate motion. His cock springs free, already fully hard and trapped for so long that it curves upward eagerly, the dark flushed tip glistening with precum. You hear Mark’s breath hitch sharply, his abdomen flexing as his whole body tenses.

And damn... he’s big. Just as big as you remember from his variant. Thick, veiny, heavy—pure Viltrumite genes. But this time, the size doesn’t intimidate you. Not even a little. This time, you bite your bottom lip, pulse quickening with excitement. Then you wrap your fingers around the base of him, feeling the heat and weight in your hand. He groans, breath hitching, hips giving the tiniest, desperate jerk toward you like he didn’t mean to move but couldn’t stop himself.

You lean in slowly, breath warm against his sensitive cock, watching how it jumps under your touch. There’s a bead of precum glistening at the tip, catching the light, and your tongue flicks out—just a little closer, just a little more.

“Oh my god…” he breathes, voice cracking like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “You’re actually—you’re really gonna… oh my god—”

His words dissolve into a choked moan when you finally take him into your mouth, the taste flooding your senses—salty and musky and something uniquely Mark. You take him into your mouth slowly, tentatively, clumsy as you try to adjust to the stretch of him. Your lips drag awkwardly over his length, your jaw already aching, but you hum, determined, and take a little more, and feel his whole body jerk in response.

“S-shit! Shit, Y/N, that’s—” his hips stutter forward before he catches himself when you nearly choke, hands turning into fists against the wall. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to—oh fuck, your mouth—”

One of his trembling hands finally finds your hair, fingers tangling gently at first before tightening unconsciously when you suck harder. The broken noise he makes goes straight to your own groin. Jesus. You’ll let him grab you however he wants if he keeps making those sounds.

“F-Fuck,” he whimpers. “Oh god, that feels—shit, it feels so good—oh my god—”

Every choked-off groan, every aborted thrust of Mark’s hips sends fresh heat coiling low in your belly. He’s falling apart just from this, just from you, and the power of it leaves you lightheaded. God, it’s better than you’d fantasized. The weight of him on your tongue, the way your lips strain around his girth, the salt-bitter taste of precum flooding your mouth—it’s overwhelming in the best way.

It’s messy, awkward even. Your jaw aches a little already, and your rhythm is more trial and error than skill—mouth bobbing up and down, hand working the base in shaky sync. You know it’s obvious you’ve never done this before. Maybe you’re not even doing it right. But from the way Mark reacts—thighs trembling, the punched-out whimpers spilling from his lips, the white-knuckled grip he has on the wall for balance—it’s clear you’re doing something right.

So you don’t stop.

You can’t stop.

You want this. You want him. Just like this.

Then, when you swirl your tongue along a thick vein on his cock, hollowing your cheeks with a deep suck, Mark shatters. His moan cracks through the room, raw and unfiltered, as his hips jerk forward on instinct. The sudden push sends him deeper than before, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat with a jolt that makes you gag. Your eyes water, throat clenching around him, lips stretched painfully wide. It hurts, it burns—but strangely, the stretch feels so good that heat flares, sharp and intense, straight to your own cock.

And then Mark’s yanking back, his cock slipping free with a wet sound. “Shit—sorry, fuck, I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice cracking as he stares down at you in horror. His face is flushed and guilt-stricken, lips parted like he’s still catching his breath. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean to do that—God, are you okay?”

You catch your breath, lips parted as you pant unsteadily, chest rising and falling with effort. Your throat still burns, your eyes sting faintly, and your jaw aches—but none of it bothers you.

You lift one trembling thumb to the corner of your mouth, wiping away the mess of spit slicking your lips. When you glance up at Mark again, he looks wrecked, still flushed, still trembling with arousal—but his hands hover awkwardly, like he’s afraid to touch you now.

God, that hurt. The stretch in your throat was raw, intense, almost too much.

But it also felt so good.

“I’m okay,” you rasp, voice hoarse but sure. Your cheeks burn hot with your confession, but you don’t look away. “I—I don’t mind if you… lose control a little.”

Mark blinks, still breathing hard. “Huh?” he asks dumbly, his voice dazed. “No, that’s—I don’t—” His jaw tightens. “I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N…”

Despite his words, his hips betray him, twitching forward ever so slightly, like he’s already imagining it again.

You lick your lips, greedy and insatiable, the taste of him still lingering there. All you want is to feel that weight again—the ache, the stretch, the sting at the back of your throat. The way he made you feel full, like you couldn’t take another inch and still wanted to try.

“I don’t mind,” you whisper again, lashes fluttering as embarrassment bubbles up—but not enough to stop you. How do you even say this? How do you explain needing him like this? “I really…” a shaky breath, “want you to fuck my mouth. Please?”

Mark’s eyes go wide. His mouth parts in a soundless gasp, his whole face flushing deep crimson, like the words physically hit him. “Are you—” he stammers, swallowing thickly, “are you sure?”

You nod, resting one hand gently on his hip. With the other, you drag your thumb across the flushed tip of his cock, smearing the bead of precum there. He groans, low and broken, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

“I’m sure,” you breathe, leaning in to press an open-mouthed kiss to the flushed head, tasting the salt and bitterness of him. “I’m so sure, Mark.”

Mark’s hips jerk violently when you take him back into your mouth—a little deeper this time, a little more confident—his cock twitching against your tongue.

“Fuck—” his voice cracks. “Y/N, I—”

But still, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t let himself fall into the temptation, not fully. He holds himself back with a trembling restraint, biting his lip so hard it turns pale, brows drawn tight, sweat glistening on his forehead. A moan catches in his throat as you work him over—slow licks, teasing sucks, your tongue gliding along every ridge and vein, doing everything in your power to break him.

“Oh god—” he chokes out, eyes squeezing shut as his hips twitch forward, just slightly, sliding deeper into your mouth.

Even then, you feel the hesitation, the way Mark is fighting himself—desperate to lose control, to give in, but terrified of hurting you.

“You’re so—fuck—it’s too good—,” he sobs, voice high and tight with pleasure. “You’re so—my god—hot.”

The praise coils heat low in your belly.

You pull back until just the head rests on your tongue, savoring his choked whimper. Then—with a steadying breath—you sink down, lips stretching obscenely as you take him deeper than before. You don’t stop when it hurts. Not when the pressure burns. Not when your throat tightens and your gag reflex threatens to kick in the moment his cock hits the back of your throat.

You hum, the vibrations swallowed by the stretch in your throat, and your own arousal spikes sharply at the overwhelming fullness, the stinging pressure, the weight of him.

And Mark—Mark completely shatters.

He throws his head back with a strangled, guttural cry, the sound ripped straight from his chest. His grip on control slips. Hips twitch forward on instinct, not violently, but fast enough to force a gag out of you, your nose brushing against the base of him.

Mark gasps, eyes snapping open in panic the moment he realizes what he’s done. “Fuck, I’m sorry—”

But before he can pull away again, before his worry ruins the high building between you, you dig your fingers into his sweat-slick hips and drag him closer, taking him to the hilt, until you can feel him pulsing somewhere behind your tongue. The pressure is so deep it knocks the breath out of you and settles low in your core. Your eyes sting, tears welling, but you don’t let go. Not yet.

Mark chokes on a moan.

“Fuck! My god, fuck, mmh, Y/N—” he whines, voice cracking beautifully. His chest rises and falls in frantic, shallow bursts, his fists clenched so tightly on the wall that his knuckles turn bone white. “Y/N, ah, I can’t—that feels—oh, you feel—”

He can’t finish the sentence.

He just moans, dissolving into low, breathless curses and half-formed words. Nothing coherent. Just helpless sounds of pleasure as you swallow around him, hollow your cheeks, hum at the sheer power of making him fall apart like this.

Then, when he finally can’t resist anymore, his hands fall from the wall with a trembling lack of grace, letting his forehead drop against it with a dull thud. A second later, his fingers slide into your hair, rough and sure, gripping tight at the roots as his palm cups the back of your head. When he looks down at you, his eyes are glazed over—wild and unfocused—lips red and swollen from how hard he’s been biting them.

The sight alone sends electricity crackling down your spine, goosebumps breaking across your skin. You’re completely, helplessly caged now—trapped between Mark’s thick cock filling your mouth and the wall at your back, with his hands in your hair, keeping you there. And all you can do is look up at him through teary lashes, his cock still nestled on your tongue, and wait.

“Okay,” Mark whispers, voice thick with arousal, low and rough like it scrapes the inside of his throat. “Okay… If you want it that bad—then have it.”

You don’t even get a chance to savor the victory.

Mark’s hips snap forward without hesitation, sheathing himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. Your throat convulses around him, tears springing to your eyes as he bottoms out—but the choked noise you make only seems to undo him further.

“Ah fuck…” he whimpers, head knocking back against the wall, his fingers fisting in your hair, dragging you in deeper as he rolls his hips. “Fuck—Y/N—Just like that. Just like—”

The words dissolve into a groan as he starts to move in earnest, his hips driving forward while his hands guide you deeper. Each thrust hits the back of your throat with perfect precision—that sweet spot where pain and pleasure blur into something heady and intoxicating.

You force your throat to relax around him, swallowing reflexively even as spit spills from your stretched lips in glistening strands. The burn is exquisite—the ache in your jaw, the stretch of your mouth, the tears pricking at your lashes— every sensation confirming how completely he’s using you.

“Fuck!” Mark’s groans above you, his thighs trembling. “God, you take me so well—” His thrusts turn erratic, the slick sounds of your mouth working him filling the room. “So fucking perfect like this—”

When you blink up at him—watery-eyed, lips swollen, chin glistening—Mark completely loses it.

His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling just enough to sting as his hips stutter. You feel the moment he tips over the edge—the way his cock swells, his breath coming in ragged bursts, his entire body tensing tighter and tighter.

“Oh fuck,” Mark chokes out, eyes squeezed shut, his hands shaking in your hair as his hips rhythm’s falter. “Y/N, I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”

You barely have time to brace yourself—your heart slamming against your ribs—before he falls apart.

With a shattered cry, Mark thrusts one final time, hard and deep and primal, burying himself so far in your throat that your nose brushes into the sweat-damp curls at his groin. His fingers tangle in your hair, gripping tight, pulling you flush against him until you’re choking.

Then you feel it.

There’s no warning, no chance to prepare, no space to breathe. His cock throbs, pulsing hard against your tongue as he comes, hot and thick, spilling straight down your throat in heavy spurts. You stifle a cough, eyes squeezing shut as tears well and spill, the pressure nearly too much, your throat clenching and flexing against the merciless intrusion.

“Fuck—fuck—!”

Mark groans, high and broken, giving one last desperate grind of his hips like he can’t help himself. The head of his cock nudges impossibly deeper with each twitch, his balls pressing against your chin as he rides out his orgasm. You gag around him but don’t pull away—can’t pull away—not with the way his hands are tangled tight in your hair, holding you there, not with how far he’s buried himself inside you. All you can do is swallow around the heavy spurts of cum, each twitch of his cock coating your tongue and sliding down your throat, leaving your eyes stinging and your lungs burning.

But it’s okay.

It’s perfect.

This is the sting you’d been chasing.

On your knees, mouth full, Mark’s musky scent thick in the air, the taste of his cum coating your tongue, sliding down your throat in slow, hot pulses. The ache in your jaw. The tears drying on your cheeks. The need to please him—and only him. The right Mark. The one who’s kind. The one who’s good.

When he finally pulls back, his cock slips free from your lips with a lewd, wet pop, leaving you dazed and panting. You let your head fall against one of his trembling thighs, lightheaded and dizzy as you catch your breath. Your throat aches in the best way, the burn sharp and satisfying as you swallow down the last of him with slow, heavy gulps.

“Oh my god—” Mark exhales, voice rough and breathless. “Y/N, I’m—god—I’m sorry…”

His hands are gentle as they haul you up, steadying you when your legs threaten to buckle. The guilt in his tone is almost comical—as if he could ever hurt you, as if this isn’t exactly what you wanted.

“Shit—I didn’t hurt you?” he asks, brows furrowed, eyes scanning your face like he’s afraid to find pain there. “You okay? I’m sorry—I should’ve—should’ve stopped before—”

You silence him with a kiss—deep and consuming, filled with heat and reassurance. Mark groans into it, tasting himself on your tongue, his hands sliding to your waist to grip you tightly like its reflex.

“You didn’t,” you murmur when you break apart, voice hoarse but sure. “I love you.”

Mark exhales shakily, eyes glassy and dazed, dark with something fragile.

“I love you too,” he breathes. “God—that was... so good. I—I love you so much, Y/N. Jesus… Are you sure you’re okay?”

To make his point, he gently wipes the corners of your eyes where tears still linger, his thumb soft against your skin, his expression faltering with concern.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips as your hands settle on his shoulders. “I’m okay... Are you okay?” Your gaze drifts downward pointedly.

“Huh?” Mark blinks, still dazed, before following your line of sight. His cock, which had started to soften, now perks up once more, half-hard and rising again with a visible twitch. He flushes deep red, mortified. “Oh—shit. I’m sorry, I—I don’t know what’s—I mean—You were amazing and I already came, so I don’t know why—”

You laugh quietly, fondly, cutting him off with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry, Mark,” you murmur, voice low and close to his ear. “We’re not done yet.”

He barely has time to register what you’ve said before you’re pressing on his shoulders, guiding him backwards. He stumbles with a startled yelp, his jeans and boxers still tangled around his knees, making him waddle back awkwardly like a penguin. And then—with a final push—he drops onto your bed, landing on his back with a bounce, eyes wide and stunned as he looks up at you from the mattress.

The sun’s just started to rise outside your window, casting long streaks of gold across the room. It catches the curve of his cheek, the red of his lips. And it catches yours too—the light spilling over the softness in your eyes, the affection so fierce it makes your chest ache.

Mark props himself up on his elbows, staring at you with flushed cheeks, red ears, and a sheen of sweat on his forehead. The sight is so endearingly vulnerable it coaxes a soft smile from you before you can stop it.

Then, wordlessly, you reach for the hem of your t-shirt. You pull it over your head in one fluid motion, revealing your bare chest to the growing warmth of the morning light. Before hesitation can creep in, you hook your thumbs under the waistband of your pajama pants and underwear, pushing them down, one knee after the other, until there’s nothing covering you.

Mark’s breath catches audibly as he takes you in. His pupils dilate, eyes raking over you, wide and reverent. He sees everything—all of you—and his gaze doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. If anything, it sharpens.

There are marks on your skin. Faint purple bruises. Bite imprints. The shadow of fingerprints where his variant had held you too tightly. Mark’s gaze darkens as he takes them all in. He follows every trace like he’s deciding where he’s going to start replacing them—where he’ll press his own fingerprints over those old ones, where he’ll bite to make new ones.

Your pulse thrums wildly at the thought, heat pooling low in your belly.

Still, the question slips out, quiet and uncertain. “Do you… still want me?”

Mark doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.” His voice cracks as his eyes drop lower, where your cock stands hard and aching. “God, yes. Yes. Always.”

The raw certainty in his voice sends your heart fluttering. You step forward until your knees bump the mattress, then climb toward him with deliberate slowness. Mark watches, transfixed, his breathing growing erratic—sharp inhales followed by shaky exhales, as if he’s forgotten how lungs work.

You can’t help the soft chuckle that slips from your lips as you straddle him, your knees settling on either side of his hips. Your fingers reach for the hem of his sweater, tugging gently, and Mark lifts his arms obediently, swallowing hard as you peel the fabric off him. As you do, he kicks the rest of his jeans off in an awkward scramble that makes you bite back another smile.

When Mark is finally bare beneath you, his chest rising and falling like he’s already worn out, he locks eyes with you. There’s nothing guarded in his gaze now—just raw, honest adoration.

You lean in and kiss him.

One hand trails across his chest, feeling the hard flex of muscle, the way his abs clench and shiver under your palm. Mark sighs against your mouth, melting into it.

His hands slide up your thighs, fingers squeezing, greedy, like he needs to memorize the shape of you. He groans low in his throat as they climb higher—until they curl around the swell of your ass, pulling you flush against him.

You gasp, startled and electric, just as his teeth graze your bottom lip in a teasing bite.

“Y/N…” Mark breathes, dazed and needy, his hips lifting instinctively, desperately, trying to grind against you—trying to chase just a little more friction between your cocks. “Please… come on, please…”

You swallow his plea with another kiss, languidly tangling your tongue with his before breaking apart. Beneath you, Mark looks utterly wrecked—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, panting in the heavy quiet. The room is thick with heat and want, the air nearly humming with it. But even with your own cock leaking against his, aching just as bad, you press a steady hand to his chest and push him back until his head meets the pillows in a soft bounce.

“Y/N?” he asks, brows knitting, a pout forming—but he doesn’t resist. He just looks at you, confused, a little breathless, waiting.

You pause for a moment, just taking him in.

That night with his variant, everything had been cloaked in shadows—his body, his face, his expression. And sure, it’s not like you didn’t know it was him—Mark, hero and all. But damn, your Mark is built like something out of a dream—broad shoulders, narrow waist, muscles shifting under your hands, chest rising fast with every breath. And now, in the soft glow of morning, Mark’s features aren’t shadowed, aren’t dark, aren’t animalistic.

Just sunlight slipping through your open window, catching in his hair, warm across his skin. His head sinks into your pillow, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes locked on you like you’re something holy—eyes full of something close to worship. And fuck, he looks perfect.

You bite your bottom lip, anticipation thrumming through your veins, before reaching toward your bedside drawer. Your fingers wrap around the familiar shapes—lube and a condom—and when you pull them out, Mark’s eyes go wide.

His gaze darts from your face to your hands and back again, his chest rising quicker, excitement blooming across every inch of his skin.

“Oh my god, are we—” he swallows, eyes wide, voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, are you—are you sure?”

Your cheeks flush with heat, but you don’t look away. “I’m sure,” you murmur, voice quiet but steady. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Yes,” he breathes, voice thin and shaky, his fingers trembling right where they rest on your hips.

“Yeah?” you repeat, a little breathless yourself, as you flick open the lube cap with a quiet pop.

Mark nods, eyes fixed on you with laser focus, like he’s drinking in the sight of you—every movement, every breath. His lips part slightly, tongue flicking out unconsciously, and it makes your heart flip, your body hot all over.

The lube is cold when it hits your fingers, slick and slippery. You brace yourself, resting your free hand against Mark’s chest where his heart thunders beneath your palm, and lift yourself slightly on your knees. You try to block out the way his gaze clings to you, the way it makes your stomach twist with nerves and desire at once, and you slide your fingers lower, toward your entrance.

You swallow, breath catching, and with a soft gasp—one you don’t know whether it’s yours or his—you press a finger inside.

Mark jerks beneath you, his cock twitching, hips lifting off the bed slightly like his body is trying to follow yours. His grip on your waist tightens—not hurting, but holding, trembling, like he’s trying so hard not to lose control. You know you must look obscene like this, fucking yourself open on top of him, and it clearly does something to him. His fingers dig in, a low, choked noise leaving his throat.

But then—suddenly—he lets out a breath that sounds nearly pained, one hand snapping up to grab your wrist and still you.

You freeze, eyes flying open, confusion and a flicker of panic flooding through you.

“Mark?” your voice comes out small. “What’s wrong?”

But his eyes aren’t on yours. They’re locked on your leaking cock, on the way your body moves, his gaze so full of hunger it nearly knocks the air out of you.

His voice is shaky when he speaks. “Can I—” he breathes. “Can I do it?”

A shudder runs through you as you register his question, then you nod, dazed.

That’s all the permission Mark needs.

He reaches for the lube, coating his fingers with shaky hands, then lifts your hips with a care that makes your heart skip. You brace your arms behind you, palms resting against his knees, back arched in anticipation.

“Like—like this?” he asks, voice uncertain but eager, his slick fingers trailing toward your entrance, brushing lightly in a way that steals your breath.

“Yes,” you exhale, eyes half-lidded. “It’s okay… just push—”

He pushes in before you finish speaking, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips, body jerking at the intrusion. His fingers are thicker than your own, the stretch immediately noticeable.

“That’s fine?” he asks, already breathless.

“Fuck—yes,” you mutter, thighs trembling.

Mark watches, fascinated, as your hips twitch, silently begging for more. He complies eagerly, sinking deeper. “Oh shit,” he murmurs. “You—you feel so tight, so warm.”

You bite your lip as he begins moving experimentally, feeling your body gradually relax and accept him. Then he slides in a second finger.

Your head tilts back, a pant escaping your lips.

“Shit—” you groan, the tip of your cock leaking messily against your stomach, throbbing with the weight of your arousal. “Deeper, fuck, deeper, Mark. It’s fine. I can—ah—handle it.”

Mark’s breath hitches. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He pushes in a third finger.

It makes you jolt—your toes curl, your vision whitens, and a broken moan slips past your lips before you can even try to hold it back.

It’s different.

You never felt this way when you did it yourself.

You’d tried. Again and again, chasing the same fucking high from that first time—but it never came close.

(You’d jerk awake in the darkness of your new apartment from yet another haunting dream—sheets clinging to sweat-slick skin, body trembling.

You’d feel disgusting, guilty, and ashamed—because it was another dream of Mark doing things to you he’d never done before. Not your Mark, anyway.

In the darkness of your room, alone and overwhelmed by shame, you’d vividly remember the touch of not-your-Mark’s hands on you, his shuddering breaths against your ear, his possessive grip, his kisses down your throat, his groans and growls, the sheer size of him, buried so deep inside you that it jolted your entire body.

And when you’d finally come to, breath caught and sheets damp, you’d realize it wasn’t really the variant you were dreaming of. Because in the haze, his face would shift—when the sneering cruelty melted into your Mark’s tender expression, his touch gentling even as he fucked you deeper.

Your cock would throb against your pajamas, traitorous, and aching with a need that refused to be ignored.

You’d buy lube the next day like some shameful criminal, hoping to drown the thirst you couldn’t shake.

But deep into another restless night, jerking awake from a dream that left your body aching, Mark’s face seared into your mind like it had been burned into your eyelids—fingers buried knuckle-deep inside yourself—you’d realize something awful.

You can’t.

You can’t satisfy it. The need. The wanting. The hunger.

Mark’s variant had whispered it, during that heated moment, a filthy promise in your ear: Gonna ruin you for anyone else.

And he’d been right.)

But with Mark—

With Mark—

Fuck, it feels good. It feels right.

So good it melts your inhibitions, strips away your shame. You let every sound fall from your lips—gasps, moans, breathless cries—because he’s reaching places inside you that’ve ached ever since the day you learned what it felt like to be touched—to be wanted—by him.

“Fuck, Mark—fuck!” you cry out, biting your lip hard in a half-hearted attempt to stifle the filth spilling out. “Oh fuck, that’s it—that’s so good—”

Mark responds by pushing deeper, fingers curling just right. Your hips stutter, body trembling.

His mouth is parted, breathing shaky, eyes dark and full of reverent lust as he watches you unravel. He takes in every twitch, every sob, every buck of your hips, like he’s burning it into his memory—learning exactly what makes you gasp, what makes you writhe, what makes you lose control.

Then he twists his fingers just right, and your mouth falls open in a soundless moan.

Your toes curl, your arms nearly give out. “There—” you gasp, voice wrecked, “there, yeah, that’s—god—”

Mark can’t hold back any longer.

With a low, guttural growl, he props himself up—one arm curling tight around your waist, the other still working you open. You gasp, startled by the sudden movement, but your breath is stolen the moment his lips crash against yours. It’s fierce, bruising—desperate. You wrap your arms around his neck without thinking, pulling him closer. He moans into your mouth, swallowing every shaky breath, every whine, every broken sound that slips from you.

“Fuck—Y/N,” he pants between kisses, voice wrecked and trembling. “Let me—mmh—let me, please. Please.”

You know exactly what he’s asking.

You don’t need to ask.

You don’t need him to say it.

It’s written all over him—in the way his hips buck into the air, his cock flushed dark red and leaking steadily, twitching with need. In the way his muscles tense and flex with restraint he’s barely hanging onto. In the way his fingers keep fucking into you, wet and slick, the obscene sounds echoing in the quiet, sunlit room.

And god—you want it too.

You’ve wanted this. You’ve dreamed of this.

Over and over, the memory of that first time replayed in your head like a sweet nightmare, haunting you with something you never thought you’d feel again. Not with your Mark. Not after everything. Not if he hated you.

But shit. You were wrong.

He doesn’t hate you.

Mark wants you.

Despite everything. Despite what you did. Despite the marks someone else left on your skin. Despite the betrayal.

He still wants you.

And fuck, he wants you bad.

So you kiss him, tongue sliding against his, messy and desperate. You let him suck and lick into your mouth however he wants, because god, he seems starving for it. Like he’s been holding back for years. Then, you press a hand to his solid chest. He lets you, even though your strength is nothing compared to his—but Mark lets you guide him anyway. Lets you push him down, pull away from the kiss, lips swollen and glistening, a soft pout on his face and heat in his eyes, waiting eagerly.

His fingers slip out of you with an obscene, wet sound, and despite everything, a needy gasp escapes your lips at the sudden emptiness. But the thought of what’s coming—something thicker, fuller—makes your skin tingle with anticipation.

Mark’s head falls back onto your pillows, messy hair damp with sweat leaving faint prints in the fabric. There’s a giddy thrill in knowing that, even after this day, your sheets will carry the raw, distinct scent of Mark Grayson in them.

He watches you intently, eyes burning with anticipation, breathing shallow.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, grabbing the condom and tearing it open. Your voice comes out steadier than you feel. “I’ll take care of you, Mark.”

Because today, you wanted to be the one to give him everything he craved—to make him feel good, to pleasure him. It was your weakest, most pathetic way of making up for letting another version of him touch you first. But it was all you had to offer.

You settle on his thighs, fingers curling around his thick, heavy cock, rolling the condom down his length with painstaking care. Mark’s eyes flutter shut, his head falling back into your pillow with a soft moan, sweat-damp hair clinging to his forehead.

“Y/N…” he breathes out, voice cracking around your name. “God—Y/N…”

You don’t stop, making sure the condom fits just right. Then you reach for the lube, slicking your fingers generously before wrapping them around his cock again. He jerks in your hand, hips twitching helplessly as you spread it evenly, coating him until he’s glistening and ready.

“Please—fuck—please…” Mark gasps, barely holding it together. His voice is raw, thick with need, and every broken sound he makes sends a fresh coil of heat twisting in your gut.

You swallow hard, the fire in your belly almost unbearable. “It’s okay,” you repeat, softer this time,  though you’re no longer sure who you’re reassuring—him or yourself.

Finally satisfied, you lift your hips—guiding his cock with a shaky breath toward your entrance. The swollen tip brushes against your rim, thick and fat, and it makes you flinch with anticipation. Mark’s head snaps up instantly, his eyes flying open, dazed and dilated, lips parting like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“Oh my god—” he whispers, almost in awe.

You sink down slowly, just enough to take in the tip, and a gasp tears from your lips. Mark lets out a low groan, biting into his bottom lip as his brows knit tight with restraint. His fingers claw at the sheets beside him, knuckles white, trying so hard not to thrust up into you.

You look at him then.

Flushed, eyes half-lidded, his chest rising and falling in sharp, unsteady bursts. The sunlight filters across his face, casting him in a warm, golden glow, making him look like something unreal. Like something angelic and ethereal.

He’s nothing like the other version of himself.

This Mark isn’t looming over you with control. He’s underneath you, undone, baring his vulnerability like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

This isn’t the Mark who took; this is the Mark who gives, who lets you take the lead without hesitation.

And when he looks at you, it’s not with obsession or possessiveness. It’s with reverence.

Your Mark—all sunlight, warmth, kindness, the one you fell for, the one you never stopped aching for.

Your Mark, who meets your gaze with pouty lips, flushed cheeks, and aching despair when you don’t move.

You grin—soft and disbelieving. Your heart swells with something too big to name, affection blooming so wildly it nearly chokes you. You can’t believe this is real. That it’s not some dream clawing at your chest in the middle of the night, reminding you of what you could never have. Because it’s not.

You have it now.

You have him.

Your Mark.

Mark’s hips stutter upward with a whimper, his cock sliding just that fraction deeper inside you. When your eyes meet again, you make sure he sees it—knows it.

“I love you,” you say.

He freezes, then his eyes soften, wide with something so raw and tender it punches the air from your lungs. A shy, breathless smile tugs at his lips, and he murmurs. “I love you too.”

It’s enough to make you start rolling your hips—once, twice, three times—in slow, teasing circles over his tip. Your body heats under the friction, under the weight of his gaze. And when Mark exhales, a soft sigh slipping from his parted lips, that’s when you move.

You drop onto him in one smooth, determined motion, sheathing his cock fully inside you with a single thrust, helped by the slick glide of lube.

Mark’s reaction is immediate—head snapping back, mouth falling open as a guttural moan rips out of him, eyes fluttering shut, spine arching hard against the mattress. His hands shoot to your hips, gripping hard enough to bruise—bruises that, for sure, you’ll trace later with a breathless kind of  joy  instead of regret.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck!” he chokes out, hips jerking up instinctively, driving in deeper. “Fuck—Y/N, you’re—you’re so—” his voice splinters, breaking into a wrecked, almost-whimper, “—tight.”

You pant, head tipping back with a broken cry, your body twitching as Mark stretches you open. “Oh my god, Mark—”

His cock throbs inside you—thick, full, massive—just like you remembered. He’s forcing you open in a way you never thought you’d feel again. In a way it aches, burns, and hurts.

It’s too much—you know it is. You should’ve taken your time, let yourself adjust, eased into it. But god—god—you liked it. The overwhelming stretch, the raw, sudden fullness. The steady throb of Mark’s cock buried inside you.

You realized it that night—when Mark’s variant had pushed in without gentleness, without patience or shame—that you fucking loved being used like that.

He should’ve known, of course. Just like he knew everything else about you. That the fullness drove you mad. That the ache didn’t repel you, it fed something inside you—something primal, greedy, and starved. That no one could ever satisfy it but him.

Gonna ruin you for anyone else.

A shudder runs through you.

Yeah. Yeah.

No one but Mark.

No one.

“F-Fuck,” Mark stammers, his voice thick with heat, his expression crumpling in bliss. “Mmh—fuck—it’s so hot, it’s—god, it’s like I’m gonna melt.”

His hips roll deeper into you without thought, dragging a sharp, broken whimper from your lips. Your muscles tighten around him, a visceral reaction, and Mark chokes on a moan—half sound, half sob—as his fingers clamp harder into your skin.

“Mark—” you gasp, hands flying to his chest to steady yourself, nails digging into solid muscle as you tremble. “Nngh—how—how does it feel?”

“So good,” he chokes out, chest heaving. “God—it’s so good. You’re—fuck—you’re perfect. Just—”

His words dissolve into incoherence, his body trembling under yours. His chest is rising too fast, too shallow, his face flushed red and wrecked, lips parted in stunned, shivering gasps. He’s coming undone right beneath you, completely losing it, and you haven’t even started yet.

You watch, equal parts awed and concerned—because you need him here. Not spiraling. Not fading.

“Mark,” you whisper, cupping his flushed cheek, your thumb gently brushing over his heated skin. “I’m right here. Breathe.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, like your voice alone gave him permission to come back to earth.

“That’s it,” you soothe, grounding him, voice soft but firm. “That’s it, baby. Just breathe.”

Little by little, through shaky, shallow inhales, Mark’s eyes flutter open. You smile at him, tender and full of adoration, and reach up to wipe the tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. When his gaze finally lands on you—dazed and wide—his pupils are so blown they nearly swallow the brown of his eyes whole.

“My god—” he exhales, forehead slick with sweat, chest rising and falling slower now. “Oh my god, Y/N. Are you—are you okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

The question’s ridiculous, really—he was the one on the edge of passing out from forgetting to breathe.

You let out a soft chuckle. “I’m okay,” you reassure, stroking his cheek, then squeezing his cock with a deliberate clench. He gasps beneath you, twitching inside. “Are you, Mark?”

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding frantically as he swallows thickly, hips giving the smallest, involuntary jerk. “Peachy. Great. Never been better. Just—just a little… overwhelmed.”

“We can wait—”

“No. No!” he interrupts, voice pitched and desperate. His hands grab at your hips, dragging you down, sinking himself even deeper inside you. You gasp at the sharp, pulsing stretch—at the feel of every ridge, every thick inch of him. “Shit—sorry—fuck, I can’t wait,” he groans, breath hitching again. “I need you.”

Your cheeks burn, heart stuttering, desire coursing through your veins like wildfire—lighting you up from the inside out. Mark needs you. Holy shit. The words echo through your mind on an endless loop—sharp, breathless, haunting. Words you’ve longed to hear—to feel.

Your voice is barely a whisper, foggy with disbelief and affection. “Okay.”

Your hand drifts from his cheek to his chest, palm gliding over the warm, sweat-slicked skin, tracing the dips and ridges of his toned torso. Mark shivers beneath your touch, breath hitching, like your fingers alone are short-circuiting him. Then, slowly, you trail your hands down his arms, catching his wrists and guiding them lower—down, down—until his palms rest against the flat of your stomach.

Mark’s eyes widen instantly, a sharp breath tearing from his lips as his gaze snaps downward.

“You feel that?” you whisper, rolling your hips in the smallest motion, just enough to press his hand deeper into your abdomen. “That’s you.”

You already knew it’d be there—just like the first time. That small, firm bump rising from the flat plane of your stomach—where Mark’s cock is buried so deep, so thick and long and overwhelming, it carves a visible imprint against your abdomen.

Mark chokes on a sound that’s half-groan, half-growl. “Ah, shit…”

His eyes are blown wide, locked on the bulge beneath his hand, thumb slowly pressing into it like he can’t believe it’s real.

His voice comes out hoarse, wrecked with awe and arousal. “Shit—look at that. Look how deep I am. Fuck, Y/N…”

Mark thrusts up experimentally, a sudden jolt of his hips that punches a yelp from your throat. But your body responds before your mind can catch up—thighs trembling, you lift yourself just enough to drop back down, and the sharp rush of pleasure that crashes through you both is instant.

His eyes flutter, unfocused, locked on where your bodies meet—the slow shift of his cock inside you, how far he sinks in, how deep you let him go. Rearranging you. Filling you so completely he looks like he might lose his mind.

“Aw fuck—” Mark groans, voice cracking around the edges, head lolling back before snapping forward again, trying to keep watching. “Fuck—I’m inside—I’m so fucking deep—”

He proves it in the next moment—hips snapping upward at the exact moment you slam down. The impact draws twin cries from you both, his hands still pressing into your belly like he needs the tactile proof of just how deep he’s buried. You rock into him again, and again, the rhythm building into something messy, urgent, addictive.

“Yeah, Mark—” you pant, voice shaky, trembling with every word, “—yeah, nh—it’s you.”

“Fuck—” he breathes, brows knotting together in that beautifully wrecked way, lips parted, breath stuttering. “Mmh—fuck, it’s so hot. You’re so—shit—so fucking hot—”

His voice dissolves into broken sounds—soft whimpering breaths, helpless noises you never imagined you’d hear from him. And god, the way he’s falling apart under you makes something burn in your chest.

You reach for him again, hands finding his wrists, guiding his palms away from your belly, intertwining your fingers with his. You start moving in earnest—hips rolling, grinding, riding him with purpose now. You use his hands as leverage, keeping them pinned against your waist, making him hold you steady as you fuck yourself down onto his cock like you were made for it.

“Y/N—ah—Y/N—” Mark groans, his voice ragged, hips jerking up to meet you halfway. He’s trying, trying so hard to match your rhythm, to give you everything. “Fuck—ngh—Y/N—”

“Oh god, oh god—!” you cry out, head falling back as one especially deep thrust slams into that spot, sending white-hot sparks ripping up your spine. “Mark—fuck—there—oh my god, there—”

You slam down at the same moment Mark snaps his hips up, and his cock slams straight into your prostate so hard it sends a white-hot jolt through your body—your vision blurs, eyes nearly rolling back into your skull.

“Holy fuck—! Fuck, fuck, fuck—!” you gasp, your whole body arching into the pleasure. “Fuck, Mark—Mark—”

Your nails dig into his arms, clenching around him, pulsing and tight and desperate. You ride him with everything you have—up and down, again and again—chasing that perfect heat, that delicious pressure deep inside you, stretched full around the thick length of him. Your own cock leaks helplessly, slapping against the firmness of his stomach with every bounce, every thrust, adding sparks of stimulation that make your whole body twitch.

“Shit—Y/N—fuck, like this?” Mark pants, meeting your hips with frantic thrusts. His eyes are wide and dark with arousal but still so painfully earnest—always checking, always making sure. “Here? Feels good?”

“Yes!” you cry out, spine curving as you push down harder, grinding into him, pressing in deep, chasing more even when you’re already full to the brim. “Yes, yes—yes!”

Every nerve in your body lights up—your fingertips, your thighs, your cock, all buzzing with raw, electric heat. And when you angle your hips just a little lower, just right, Mark’s thick cock crashes into your prostate again—and again—and again, pounding that spot in a rough, perfect rhythm that steals the air from your lungs.

“Fuuuuck—” you gasp, voice catching in your throat as your eyes squeeze shut, pleasure burning hot and blinding. “Oh god—it feels so good—so fucking good—”

“Yeah?” Mark pants beneath you, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, gripping you like he can’t get enough. He drives up into you, deeper, harder, and the greedy way he squeezes you makes your head spin. “Jesus—you feel amazing,” he groans, breath shaky. “You’re so fucking tight, I’m—I swear you’re gonna kill me—fuck—”

Your thighs are burning now, trembling from the strain. Your stomach coils, muscles seizing with effort.

“Ah—ngh—Mark—I can’t—” you whimper, voice breaking as you cling to him, nails dragging across his shoulders as your strength slips. You’re shaking all over, legs giving out, rhythm falling apart.

You can’t keep going. Even though your body wants to. Even though you’d give anything to ride him into oblivion. But your legs shake violently, threatening to give out entirely. The only thing keeping you moving is Mark—his strong hands lifting your hips, guiding you up and down on his cock.

“I can’t—Mark,” you sob, eyes brimming with overwhelmed tears. “Please—fuck me. Just fuck me—”

Mark growls—deep and guttural—and you barely have time to breathe before he shifts, rolling you to the side. The world tilts, everything spinning—and then you’re on your back, blinking up at him, caged beneath the weight of his arms on either side of your face.

And then he kisses you like he’s starving, swallowing your gasps as he devours your mouth with desperation. You cling to him, barely coherent, mind already melting as his body aligns with yours again, cock pulsing hot and heavy where it presses against your entrance.

Instinctively, your legs lock tight around his waist, arms looping around his neck. Mark thrusts back in with one smooth, deep stroke—your body taking him effortlessly, like it’s made to welcome him. Your toes curl at the stretch, at the sheer fullness of him, stars bursting behind your eyes as another desperate, broken moan rips from your throat—one that Mark swallows greedily between kisses, mouths moving feverishly against each other.

“Mmph—Mark,” you pant into his mouth, barely able to breathe, “I love—mmh—I love you.”

Mark pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes shining with unshed tears of pleasure that mirror your own. “Fuck, Y/N—” His voice cracks, hips stuttering. “I love you. So much. So much.”

You nod, dazed and floating. “Don’t stop. Please—keep going.”

And he does.

He fucks into you hard, desperate, the sound of skin meeting skin raw and constant. He now knows you can take it—knows you want it—and Christ, he wants it so bad too. Wants to lose himself inside you, feel every inch of you wrapped around him as his self-control frays and snaps, tension coiled so tight in his gut it’s barely manageable. You’re squeezing him perfectly, body clenching down like you need him, and every sound you make pulls another raw groan from his throat.

He wants to stay here forever. He wants to be inside you, part of you, one with you—if that were possible, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“You like it?” he pants, voice cracking with another deep, sharp snap of his hips. “Y/N—fuck—you like it?”

“Fuck! Yes!” you arch off the bed, toes curling. “I love it—I love it—I love it—”

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, head spinning as your incoherent moans fill the room, every sound soaking into his skin like heat. You melt into him with every thrust, open and pliant and so fucking willing it nearly undoes him. God—and he’d run from this. From you. Too scared of what he felt. Too scared to face it, to own it.

Mark could’ve had this months ago. Could’ve heard these sounds, seen this look on your face, felt you tremble like this under him—if he hadn’t been such a goddamn coward.

“Good,” Mark growls, thrusting harder, more desperate now. “Good—because I’m not letting go.”

He presses a featherlight kiss to the tip of your nose before trailing lower, breath hot as it ghosts across your neck. Your breath stutters—your entire body tightens—when he lingers over the bruises. Fading now, but still there. The ones his variant left behind to claim you, to make sure you don’t forget him. To make sure your Mark didn’t either.

Mark’s jaw clenches.

Then he bites down.

A choked gasp rips from your throat, pulse pounding as his teeth sink into the bruised skin, right where it still aches.

“Oh god—” your eyes fluttering shut, voice breaking into a high whine. “Mark—”

He doesn’t stop—sucking dark new marks over the old ones, sweeping his tongue over each one like he’s rewriting them. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to leave their own bruises, his thrusts never losing their punishing pace. It’s overwhelming, the way he consumes you.

“Fuck, Mark—” you groan, head tilting back to give him more room. “Fuck, yes—”

A broken moan tears from your throat as Mark picks up pace, his hips slamming into you with a force that should hurt but only sends lightning up your spine. Each thrust punches deeper than you thought possible, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur at the edges. His breath scalds your neck—panting, uneven—and you feel the goosebumps erupt across your skin.

Then his hand wraps around your leaking cock, using your own precum to slick the way as he starts jerking you off with frantic, uncoordinated strokes.

You nearly black out.

“Fuck! Mark—!” your back arches off the mattress, nails biting into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. “Mark—Mark!”

It’s overwhelming—too much at once. His cock nailing your prostate with terrifying accuracy. His mouth hot and wet on your neck, teeth scraping just shy of breaking skin. His hand working your length with a roughness that borders on painful.

Mark’s everywhere. Around you, inside you, all over you. And you don’t stop him. You can’t. You love him. And love every second of it.

“Yes, yes, yes—” you babble, face scrunching in overwhelming pleasure, eyes rolling back. “Fuck, yes. Mark—ah—don’t stop, don’t stop—I’m gonna—”

Tears blur your vision, trailing down your cheeks as the sensations overwhelm you. Every thrust, every bite, every breathless groan Mark lets out sends you spiraling. You’re burning from the inside out, aching, and full and right at the edge.

“Mark—” you pant, voice wrecked, hips jerking to meet the strokes of his hand. You’re trying to warn him, trying to form words that make sense. “Mark—I’m gonna come—oh fuck, I’m so close—”

But then—just when it’s all building to an uncontrollable high—the frantic pace stutters.

Mark slows, pulling away from your neck. His forehead drops gently against yours, nose brushing nose, both of you panting, your breath mingling in the space between.

Everything slows down.

You stare at Mark through glassy, dazed eyes.

The sunlight hits just right, turning the brown in his eyes molten gold, his lashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks. His hair is damp and messy, clinging to his forehead, his face flushed and burning, lips swollen and parted with every heavy breath. His expression—open, yearning, achingly soft—melts straight through you.

Mark looks beautiful.

Mark looks yours.

And Mark whispers, “I got you.” Then softer, “I love you.”

And you believe him.

God, you believe him.

The kiss that follows steals what little breath you have left. Your body locks up—a lightning strike of pleasure that makes your thighs tremble violently around his hips. You come with a strangled sob, shaking apart in his arms. Your body clenches around him, cock twitching in his hand, hot release spilling across your stomach, over his fingers. Every jolt wracks through you like a wave, and Mark holds you through all of it—grunting softly into your mouth, matching the kiss with gentle rolls of his hips and firm strokes that push you through it.

He drinks in every gasp, every broken sound you make, kissing you slow and deep, teasing your lips between his, coaxing out every last drop like he wants to milk you dry.

“Mark,” you rasp, voice rough and awed. “Mark.”

“I’m here,” he breathes, voice just as wrecked, thumb brushing your cheekbone, wiping away tears you didn’t realize had fallen. “I’m right here.”

Tears spill over—not from the oversensitivity, not from the aftershocks still wracking your body—but because this is Mark. Your Mark. Not a dream. Not a cruel echo from another world. Not something twisted in the dark.

“I love you,” you sob into his mouth, clenching around him hard, desperate to hold onto him. “I love you so much, Mark.”

Mark makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat, his hips stuttering but still driving into you with that same relentless intensity that has you squirming beneath him from the overstimulation—but you take it.

“Love you too,” he breathes, voice cracking.

And then—Mark comes.

You feel it in the way he bottoms out with one final, shuddering thrust, so deep you can see the outline of him through your stomach. In the way his cock pulses inside you, spilling heat into the condom until it swells, pressing insistently against your tender walls. In the way his entire body locks up, then collapses against you with a broken whimper, his mouth desperately seeking yours even in the haze of it all.

You part your lips for him. Let him lick, let him breathe you in.

Then he finally slips his cock out, making you whimper into his kiss at the sudden emptiness. Your legs twitch, shaky, your body clenching instinctively around the absence. But Mark kisses you again—gentle, grounding, soft—and then collapses back onto you, chest to chest, skin to skin.

And finally—everything stills.

The only sounds left are your ragged, breathless gasps as the two of you try to come down, lungs working overtime to catch up. Mark buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, pressing soft, distracted kisses along your throat. You shudder, cheeks burning with flustered heat at the intimate display of affection—even after everything, even after just having sex with Mark, it makes you shy.

Jesus—you just had sex with Mark.

And there’s no guilt clawing at your chest. No remorse creeping up your throat. No shame curling in your gut like it wants to make you sick.

You had sex with Mark Grayson—and this time, it’s perfect.

You hum, low and content, arms sliding around his back, your nails lazily dragging over his skin in faint, aimless patterns. Mark shivers against you, arching slightly in reflex, his weight shifting more into you—pressing you deeper into the mattress, and into him.

“That tickles…” he mumbles against your ear, voice low and hoarse, rough in a way that makes your heart jump.

You chuckle softly. “Baby.”

He grumbles something incoherent, then nips playfully at your neck, just below your ear—exactly where he knows it’ll make you squirm. You flinch, breath catching, a sharp little jolt running through you.

“That tickles,” you echo, trying for mock annoyance, but the smile is already pulling across your lips.

Mark doesn’t need to see it—he hears it, the smile on your tone. He smiles back, the hint of mischief in his grin evident as his teeth graze your neck, sending another shiver through you.

Then he pulls back just enough to look at you, bracing his elbows on either side of your head. His eyes—soft and full of love—search yours with an intensity that makes your chest tighten.

“Hey,” Mark says shyly, cheeks tinged pink.

“Hey,” you whisper back, just as flustered.

“That was…” Mark exhales, his chest still heaving slightly. “That was amazing.”

Your cheeks burn, body still buzzing—soft and sore and tingling in all the right places. “Yeah,” you say, voice hoarse. “So good.”

He swallows hard, eyes flicking over your face like he still can’t believe you’re real, and here, and his. Then, like he can’t say it enough, Mark exhales. “I love you.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck, arms pulling you close as if he’s afraid to ever let go. “I love you. God, I love you. I’m never—never letting you go now. No one—” his voice drops to a low, dangerous whisper “—will take you away from me.”

You chuckle, warm and light, and wrap your arms around him in turn, holding him just as tightly. “Good. I love you too.”

It’s a promise.

It’s that simple.

In the quiet aftermath, Mark’s nose stays buried in the crook of your neck, breathing you in like he’s addicted to your scent, you feel something pressing insistently against your thigh.

You blink, stunned. “...Are you hard again?”

Mark whines—a high, embarrassed sound muffled against your skin—as he shakes his head violently. But his hips betray him with shallow, involuntary thrusts against your leg.

“My god,” you murmur, voice low and amused, affection lacing every word. You feel his hips twitch, his cock nudging insistently against your thigh. “Is this… is this a Viltrumite thing? Did I just condemn myself to your ridiculous alien stamina?”

He groans against your skin, lips brushing sensitive flesh as he mumbles, “…Maybe.” Then, quieter, with a smile curling into your collarbone, “Or maybe I just really fucking like you.”

Your cheeks heat, breath catching, your own body already stirring in response. Your cock—sticky and still sensitive—starts to throb faintly between you. “I guess... we're lucky the day just started.”

Mark lifts his head at that, and the sight alone knocks the air from your lungs—his grin wide and a little bashful, brown eyes gleaming gold in the sun, hair a mess, lips kiss-swollen, skin glowing with sweat and love.

The rays catch on the sweat still glistening between your bodies, on the marks you’ve left on each other—fading bruises, fresh bites, the ghost of fingertips pressed too hard. Little traces of everything that’s changed. Of all the things that will never be the same.

A/N: Okay, I’m honestly a little embarrassed by the ending, haha—I swear I wrote like three different versions and scrapped them all 😭 it gave me such a hard time... Anyway! I really hope you enjoyed it! this is the end of it!

taglist: @horrific-dust @cronasluvr @kogadoguinho @kirsoup @kaycesspade @killerd1 @rosy-myhouse34 @cim0nnin @garlicforthewin @unfaithfulmemories @krispytimemachinepolice-blog @parastaein @connorlupin @tired12sstuff @1nfinitestarr @hasperxzt @numberonetimemachinething @tozixmq-t0zl5ta @sl1m3y11 @marsblues @no-bishes @the-ultimate-librarian @optimisticstrawberrypizza @uncharted-lands-world @queermaeda @gaychaosgremlin @qi-rong-husband @kaelyre @at4-raxia @f1nn-03e @verort @fonkthedonk @gojosdumpydump @mef0rg0r @tinfoil531 @iwillrisefromthefire @wshyouwerehere @brymalibu @starlightchildsworld @your-platonic-gay-lover @ifaitos @chemicalwindexbottle @kobenio @decaffinetedcookiecrossiant @halo-chao @atenmybeloved @fruitypebblerancher @bensontrechic @m4r13ll @thekit-katkairi @gayaristocrat @exactlyclevercollector @fin-boi-twig @yellowfrog-withagun @nightblanc @wind19845 @lazy-ahh @sweet-cherub @imakms @montimer @jo-cujoh @dazaiosamutheoneandonly @bunnymysteriously @cssammyyarts @makitokokonoi

[luvbatsy]

──── ❝ humans do whatever they can to save themselves. even if it means sacrificing others. ❞

⌗ pairing: squid game x gender neutral! reader

⌗ this work includes . . . lowercase intended, third person pov, typical squid game warnings, short scenarios, nanno! reader, general warnings for nanno characteristics, platonic relationships, reader replaces young-mi in order to make hyun-ju’s parts work, teenage! reader, readers age isn’t said but they are mentioned to have a young appearance, parental issues, weapons described, reader is mentioned to be twirling their hair in some parts, manipulative! reader, readers a little weird, slow burn with readers actual personality, “major” character death, supernatural themes, set during (and follows the story of) season 2, some scenes have been rewritten or just aren’t mentioned, self-indulgent, possible grammar and wording mistakes ❨ not proof read ❩

“sawadee ka, nanno na ka.”

⸺ NANNO! READER getting confronted by a man in a fancy and clean cut suit while they’re sat on a bench in the subway station, waiting for the train to go ‘home.’ staring at him innocently as he asks if they would like to play something with him, a game of ddakji.

midnight was rolling around the corner, the school uniform was chafing against their limbs once they had thrown down the colored paper in their hand against the other on the ground. grunting in failure with how they were unsuccessful in turning it over, the ruffle of a hand was planted against their head. a much more softer approach compared to the slaps that others would get from the salesman. even with how cruel he was, he would never think once of hitting a child.

“good try.” he says with a friendly grin planted onto his lips, reaching down to grab the abandoned paper. (name) clapped as they watched him win again. so far they had already done five rounds of this game, all of which they had lost. more hours have passed by like a blur, more people watched the two with confusion as they squished past them, some stepping off the train and others stepping on.

an ecstatic yell exited (name) as they directed the last hit downwards, the square flipping over at last with a loud smack. the corridor echoing with them hitting their palms together as they bounced off their heels. “well done.”

money was carefully placed into their hands, their eyes only scanned the card that was given to them. the salesman quickly nodded his head before taking off in the opposite direction, a feline-grin curled at the sharp corners of their mouth, storing away the decorated cardboard with shapes into their breast pocket. (name) glared their focus against the disappearing figure, twirling their index finger and wrapping a strand of hair around it like a ribbon.

“—(name), 6.66 billion won in debt.” a deep voice rang out, the screen stuck on the wall showed someone their own familiar face. (name)’s eyes stared back at them, watching as the hand of the salesman patted their head tuning out all the gasps filling the place when the remaining 455 players steered their heads in search for them.

“eh… who’s that?”

“they look awfully young to be here!”

“what exactly is this place for you to have to drag in minors?!”

“that sounds like a lot for someone like them.”

a blank expression drew onto (name)’s face, stepping from where they hid to stand next to a woman with poorly applied makeup that clashed with her skintone, player 044. a conniving glance was sent their way from her. the guard infront with a white square imprinted on his mask shut everyone up as he continued to speak, (name) shifted slightly as they felt 044 nudge her shoulder into theirs.

“theres something unique about you…” she whispered, “you have something that you’re keeping from the rest of the world. i can tell you’re not actually what you make yourself out to be.”

(name) spun their hair, moving the strand to hide their lips. the stoicness of their face broke as they turned to meet her uncanny eyes, the sly grin on their face making itself more apparent. “you’re here for your own gain, a purpose you could say… the gods aren’t very fond of you—”

“—what you see now—“

the lights dimmed, hints of yellow graded the room as everyone directed their attention upwards hearing the dotting of music. the ceiling opened up, eyes darted to the empty piggy bank ascending downwards. people started speaking up the moment the guard told them of the money that would be stashed in it after the six games. (name) tsked hearing him tell everyone of a consent form they’d have to sign if they wished to participate.

they pouted, peripheral vision catching the woman move alongside them, “how sad, looks like our conversation will have to be cut short,” (name) dropped their voice, the quietness of their words picking into 044’s ears, “…see you on the other side.”

nanno! reader catching the attention of a certain player… 456. furrowed brows mixing with his gaze of anxiousness as he caught glance of them on the screen. distress washing him over as he thought of the scenario they didn’t ‘know’ they had volunteered to be in, a high school student thrown into a place filled with death games.

a protective instinct was embedded into him once he heard the specific number that was given to them, the flooding memories of someone familiar who was teamed along side him the last time he was here. scenes of her corpse still imprinted inside his head like some kind of bleach stain that refused to come out no matter how many times you tried washing it, the remembrance of the deal she had given him of her brother…

kang sae-byeok, player 067.

nanno! reader ignoring all of the questionable stares they’ve gotten as they stepped through the area where the photo booth was located. different players of mixed ages, all of which were sending concerned glances their way the moment they had walked past some of them. the youthfulness of their face and young stature not going unnoticed by anyone as they whispered to each other, ‘what could a teenager possibly be in debt for?’

‘PLEASE LOOK INTO THE CAMERA.’

SMILE!

nanno! reader playing the façade of a scared teenager once the frenzy of red light, green light happens. watching as everyone sprints around in fear. yelling in terror once they had seen player 196’s bleeding corpse, loud bangs bouncing off the walls with every player getting sniped.

‘flinching’ as they slouched cowardly behind another player, 149. a frightened whimper left them with fake tears building in their waterline. their hearing irritated with gi-hun’s yelling, reminding everyone to stay still, “are you okay dear?”

the caring and motherly sound of 149’s voice made (name) stiffen, hands tightening on the cloth of her jacket, “ma’am…” the light in their eyes flickered, sentences sputtering out as their mouth dryed, “i’m scared…”

“i know, it’s alright. just stick to me, okay? we’ll be fine…” she said moving her hand slowly to connect with theirs, (name) sharply inhaled at the soft grip of her hand. pupils darting between her and the doll a few feet away from them, different thoughts running through their head at her action. blinking with creased brows but regaining their focus as they picked up the sound of repetitive dialogue coming from the piece of plastic—

GREEN LIGHT!

“move!”

nanno! reader watching the remaining players beg for their lives behind one of the bunk beds. body remaining still like a gargoyle as they felt player 120’s tender arms wrapped around them. she had dragged them with her the moment the lights flickered and the pink guards entered the room with their flashy guns, laying them flat against her chest incase of any harm with a sympathetic glance.

“there seems to be a misunderstanding…”

ears brushed out the guard reassuring everyone of what was actually going to happen, their vision catered itself to the side hearing the recognizable voice of the man who helped them in the first game. monologuing and persuading the square guard into letting them take the vote now, obliging in doing so. “miss..” (name) spoke up, gaining the attention of hyun-ju as she looked down at them realizing the firm grip she still had planted around them.

“oh! uh—sorry…” she responded, tugging her arms back to her side. (name) examined her embarrassed exterior, the way she rubbed at her forearm made them narrow their eyes. a glint of sorrow washed over their iris—bottom lip quivering, toying with their fingers, “actually, i—”

words wobbled out of them throwing themselves onto her with a frown, tightly wrapping their arms around her middle and digging the side of their face in between her front, “miss… can i stick with you? i don’t wanna be here alone and you seem nice… please, i won’t ask for anything else!”

they shuddered, fists digging into her back and tears staining down their cheeks causing foggy marionette like-lines. hyun-ju hesitated slightly before shushing them, rubbing their head with assurance, “it’s fine— it’s fine, don’t worry… you can stick around me as much as you’d like, it’s no problem at all.”

(name) brightened as they wiped any fallen snot from their noise and bowing their head repeatedly at her, hands incased in hers, “eh—thank you miss! thank you… so much..”

“it’s surprising to see someone of your caliber here.”

nanno! reader making player 222 jump at the sudden noise of their voice, interrupting the quietness of mealtime. the two stared at each other, jun-hee sending an eye signal to them questioning them on what they meant.

“you don’t have to play dumb with me,” (name) whispered, pointing to her stomach. “i’m talking about that.. growing inside your stomach. it’s not safe for you here y’know?”

she looked down, playing with the food in her box moving the metal fork she had against it seemingly ignoring (name)’s words. (name) exhaled through their nose, waving their hand to move jun-hee back from where she was sitting. placing themselves on her previous spot, “if it makes you feel better… i know exactly how you’re feeling.”

(name) cocked their head as she connected her eyes with them, urging them to go on. a half-smirk deepened on their lips, leaning back with their hands planted flat, “he wanted you to get rid of it, but you decided last minute that you wanted to keep it. that’s how it was for me.”

jun-hee raised her brows, posture straightening at the sentences that filled her ears. a thought stuck in her head with their continuous monologue, they don’t mean…? “—it’s hard, being given the responsibility of another life. especially when you’re so young…

.

.

.

“then what happened?”

(name) raised a brow at her, “oh? so you do speak..” they joked, smacking their lips together seeing the way jun-hee sent them a tiny glare. they rolled their eyes, standing up and digging their hands into the pockets of their jacksuit with another exhale leaving them, “kept it.”

…

“don’t look so down.” (name) said pinching at one of her cheeks, “it’s cruel to leave a parent without their child. besides, it’s not like he had a choice anyways.”

a maniacal laugh ripped from their vocal chords before they sighed, moving a strand of hair from their face and leaving her by herself. jun-hee followed them with her eyes, watching them walk away with pep in all of their steps as she sat there uncomfortably. blinking, finally processing the entire conversation.

eh—

“he?”

nanno! reader eavesdropping on player 456 and 001’s conversation during lights out, hiding in the shadows, furrowing their brows as they heard 001’s ‘reason’ for choosing blue. a tiny cough left them before speaking up, letting the older men know of their presence, “you’re a good man.”

young-il and gi-hun tore their attention from each other to the teenager leaning against the bed frame behind them, darkness overcasting them. (name) gulped stepping forward, eyes flickering between them with nervousness, “my apologies, i didn’t mean to intrude— uh… may i?”

they asked pointing to the empty space on gi-hun’s bed. he nodded, following them with his gaze as they stepped over young-il. crossing their legs on the bed with a smile, “i’m sorry again, its just— i think you guys are really cool… i’ve been admiring you two for the past hour now.“

they stated, the bright specks of light made itself more noticeable as they perked up, leaning forward to gi-hun with their hands clasped together in fists. “especially you mister, without you i don’t think i would’ve been able to make it through the first game! i was waiting for the chance to properly thank you for that.. so, thank you!”

they bowed their head at him, shutting their eyes with a generous open-mouthed beam. a small smile drew onto gi-hun before fading as his gaze shifted down to the annoying blue on their jacket. the circle mocking him as his eyes met with it, “—and you! the way you fought those guys earlier was so awesome, it was like you were a superhero or a movie character!”

(name) whisper yelled towards young-il. nodding eagerly as they saw the way he smirked at their compliment, shaking his head with a flustered chuckle. “(name)...”

they blinked, steering towards gi-hun with narrowed eyes as they saw the way he grimaced at them. the air around them shifted uncomfortably, young-il noticing the way they’re breath hitched as (name) picked up the question spilling out of gi-hun’s mouth,,

“do your parents know you’re here?”

nanno! reader avoiding all the conversations of people asking them of their parents and their whereabouts, ‘you’re parents must be worried about you,’ ‘are you here because of them?,’ ‘how’d you get here without them noticing?,’ ‘you need to go back to your family,’ all of this constant interrogation irritated them.

changing the conversation or topic, laughing it off as if it was joke and ignoring the worried looks given to them. sometimes the place would coincidentally call the players for the next game or tell them it was time for lights out before they could even respond.

“what a weird thing to ask someone…”

nanno! reader continuing to choose blue after the end of the six-legged pentathlon, watching as the numbers of ‘O’ increased. standing next to hyun-ju with one of their arms wrapped around her bicep, not caring of the gazes given to them by gi-hun and young-il.

one of frustration and the other of content.

nanno! reader watching player 230 kick out one of his men when the robot on the pa called out four during mingle. running with hyun-ju as they kept their vision on him, a frigid stare being sent his way before fidgeting once the remaining three of their group found themselves a room to stay in.

eyes widening when they looked through the rectangular peephole, seeing gyeong-su be shot down by a pink guard. only separating when geum-ja detached them from the door, telling them to not worry about it too much in the caring voice she always gave them. brows furrowed with an emotion they’ve never experienced before.

distraught.

nanno! reader having a numb gaze towards player 149 as they saw her comfort her crying son once they reunited after the groups of three. tilting their head, body tense and eyes blank, thoughts filling their head with various amounts of envy as they saw them embrace one another. a loving mother caring for her child, something they’d never be able to experience.

nanno! reader getting separated from hyun-ju as everyone scrams around in groups of ten, the countdown lingering around everyone as they scattered into unlocked doors. running behind geum-ja and yong-sik before getting shoved by another player getting kicked out of an open room. knocked onto the ground as they connected their eyes with hyun-ju through the entryway, her vision filled with worry.

“(name)!”

“hyun-ju!”

they yelled towards each other. (name) toppled up, sprinting towards her before getting shoved again, blurry eyesight making quick contact with the number on their perpetrators jacket, player 333.

the group inside the room stared at him with shock before steering away towards (name)’s cries, their stammering voice stabbing the middle of their hearts like a knife, “hyun-ju!”

“(name)!” hyun-ju whipped her body towards the cut in the door, pupils watching the glistening diamond-like tears run down their face. her rough hands tugging at the lock on the door with desperation, grunting in failure when it glued itself together, “(name)…!”

“i don’t wanna die, please! don’t leave me out here, hyun-ju!”

she flinched, the tears she had building up fell when the sound of gunshots filled her ears. breath trembling as she watched (name)’s body collide with the ground, the loud thud their body made only worsened it for her.

———

gi-hun furrowed his brows as he saw hyun-ju and her team walk back towards the platforms, looking between the three trying to find the figure that’s been here since the beginning.

noticing how dae-ho and jun-hee kept their heads down as they walked towards him, hyun-ju forcing her stiff body to walk, and geum-ja and yong-sik holding each other like a family attending the funeral of a loved one.

young-il spoke up for him, “where’s (name)?”

hyun-ju shivered at the name, preventing a sob from leaving her bitten lips, useless cries won’t bring them back. geum-ja shook her head, arm tightening around her son’s arm with dry tears on her face.

gi-hun and young-il shared looks with each other, young-il driving his hands through his hair as grief painted his face. gi-hun only stood there, chest quickening in its pace as his heart thumped.

he had ‘lost’ player 067… again.

“dude… either these pills are making me see double.. or that kid we’ve been seeing walk around here, has had a secret twin we weren’t noticing before.”

nanno! reader surprising everyone as they went back into the main area after finishing the third game. gasping in shock, seeing them sat on hyun-ju’s bed, alive and breathing like everyone didn’t see them die hours prior. even the guards were shocked! if you could see their faces through their masks that is… ( how would someone who covered their face be able to show emotions? that’s for you to figure out ) looking between each other and at the ones that stored their body in a casket. nothing but confused body language went over them, they could’ve sworn they were dead.

(name) brightened as they saw their team standing there with confusion, waving their hand as they ran towards the three. wrapping them in a tight hug, “hyun-ju! geum-ja, yong-sik! you guys won, i’m so happy to see all of you again!”

they laughed with a smile, shaping their face into a worried expression as they looked over their faces then at gi-hun’s team. all of them were staring like deer in headlights at them, “what’s wrong? i’m back now, aren’t i? there’s no point in being sad anymore.”

they cracked their neck to the side slightly, grabbing hyun-ju’s quivering hand as they dragged her with them, “c’mon, let’s go back to our beds.”

“(name).”

nanno! reader turning away from the scared trio sat infront of them towards the calling of their name. finger intertwined with a hair strand as they looked at the man before them, player 333.

myung-gi shifted uncomfortably at their face, seeing the person he left for actual death come back to life didn’t feel.. real. “i… i wanted to apologize for earlier—“

“shh, sh sh.” they clicked their tongue at him, separating their finger from their hair to place it against the middle of their lips. sparkless eyes staring at him as their smile turned into a menacing pout, “there’s no point in apologizing now.. i don’t blame you for doing it, of course. we all wanna survive in this world. but, the damage has already been done-”

they leaned closer to him, pressing their hands onto his shoulders as their whispers flew threw his ears like wind. he loathed at the touch; goosebumps painting on his covered skin at their cold words, seeing the patch of blood forming onto their white shirt in the form of holes. “and you’re gonna have to live with that.”

nanno! reader smirking towards player 044 on the hightops of one of the beds. the blue overcasting her as they made eye contact, lips mirroring the grin on their face. her eyes stuck on the blue patch on their jacket never once changing as they made it through this game, “i see your true colors are finally starting to show.”

seon-nyeo said as she lowered herself down to where (name) sat, gesturing to gi-hun and the rest of their remaining team on the red side. (name) blinked at hyun-ju, her head stuck down not moving at the feeling of their eyes on her, “is that so?”

“yes. but just so you know, the god’s still aren’t welcome in favoring you. if i were you, i’d be worried.” she spouted watching as a man and woman looked at her with their hands rubbing together in a praying motion, indescribable words leaving them with low voices. a prayer perhaps?

(name) sighed, crossing their arms at her statements with nothing but annoyance. moving their eyes to the lights on the ceiling, soulless pupils darting around them, “as if i need their pity...”

nanno! reader staring at player 124 after he and the other ‘O’ choosers came back from the fiasco that happened in the bathroom, eyes unblinking like a machine. flickering, noticing the way his red-stained hands shook as he held a cross-shaped necklace in his grip. quivering breaths left him as he shielded the pills hiding inside it, covering the blanket he had over the fork that was previously jabbed into thanos’ neck. “those eyes of yours piss me off.”

he spat, attempting to make himself intimidating towards the teen. (name) exhaled through their nose, puffing out their cheeks side by side as if they were lost in ‘thought,’ “if you have something to say… then say it, don’t waste my time.”

(name) pushed their lips outwards, blinking as they heard the woman on the pa counting until bedtime, “i’ve noticed how close you and thanos have become… it was such a shame, hearing him get eliminated. you must be in so much pain at losing your friend.”

nam-gyu sent daggers their way, irritation filling his eyes wanting to interrupt them. shout insults at them or something, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it… he felt something keeping him from speaking, an invisible force making him listen to the rest of their speech.

“if i were you.. i’d do something about the people who tried to get in the way of the two of us.” they said directing their gaze towards player 380 across the room, enhancing the seething of their tongue, “i hate people like her, always so full of themselves. she must think she’s better than us, better than you.”

(name) pulled out the fork nam-gyu was hiding in his sheets. he sat up, uncovering himself as he saw the utensil in their hand. noticing the one he had was gone, “how did you—“

“i’d make my way towards her when she’s off guard. catch her when she least expects it.. gives you more of an advantage.” (name) said tossing the metal back towards nam-gyu, walking away when the robotic voice gave the last warning for lights out, the faint grin on their lips carving into their mouth as usual.

“hey, min-su.”

nanno! reader appearing behind player 125 as he stares at se-mi’s corpse with guilt in his eyes, poorly guarding her body with his figure seeing how they shifted their gaze at the two.

“don’t worry, i won’t hurt you.” they assured moving towards him with slow and careful steps, standing infront of him with the constant smirk they had glued onto their lips

“you’re too kind for this world, min-su.” (name) said cradling the sides of his face with glints of remorse in their iris, his body trembled at the feeling of their dead hands against his warm skin. “you did your best in protecting her, but this is just how life is..”

min-su’s bottom lip shuddered, his nervous shell cracking through. squirming as (name) pressed a small kiss to one of his cheeks, “you can’t always save the people you care for.”

“congratulations on your ‘win,’ frontman.”

nanno! reader making the frontman flinch as they clapped their hands together, turning on the lights inside his room. sitting on his chair with documents in their hold, flipping through the files of previous players. “or would you prefer it if i called you, player one?”

player 001 stared at them through his sharp mask. the large screen infront of them was on, showcasing the players that were still left. (name) stood up, dragging their hand against the top of the sofa. the noise of their nails sketching against the leather filled the air with an annoying sound, “no? how about, young-il?”

young-il didn’t respond, his hand hovered over the gun hidden in his dark pocket as he stared at the teenager. “not much of a talker are you?”

he hadn’t noticed the mask he had covering himself was gone, not caring that his vision was more clearer than before. ignoring the black disguise he used in the grasp of (name)’s hold as they looked at them with that condescending grin of theirs. not the one infront of him, but…

in the hands of their clone.

his eyes ran over the two, different thoughts ramming into his head at the one standing infront of him with his mask and the other with the folder, both having the same bloodied number printed onto their green clothes. the same face, the same person with the same memories of before.

the person who was supposed to be burnt to a crisp in a coffin somewhere but came back with no explanation, not minding all the terrified looks people were giving them as they made the mistake of catching their eyes.

“who…. are you?”

“(name) is (name).” the one with the folder stated, the lingering silence of the room made him feel uneasy as they continued to stare at him with those flat eyes of theirs. “sorry. i don’t think i’ve had the chance to properly introduce myself.”

they readjusted their body, planting their hands together never once letting the files fall from their hold as they bowed at him. “hello, i’m (name). it’s nice to meet you...” bright teeth flashed him, dull hands reaching up to show him a specific paper. breath accelerating with the recognizable face that stared back at him, the face of who he was before.

“hwang in-ho.”

nanno! reader who’s actually older than everyone residing in the games despite looking the youngest; having the gift of immortality had its perks. nobody knew of this, of course. how could they when they had the ability to change their appearance at will?

male or female, young or old, short or tall, owning one body or multiple. even with this, a high school student just happened to be their top pick to walk through this world; it just wasn’t possible for anybody to suspect a teenager of being a monster, right?

nanno! reader who makes themselves vulnerable in order for people to let their guards down around them. putting on the act of an innocent and scared teenager, the type who would flinch at the loudest of noises. the type who acts dumb and confused at the simplest tasks, letting people get frustrated with them when they can’t seem to figure something out. the way they constantly change their personality in order to fit with whoever their around with, making them feel ‘safe’ and ‘comfortable’ just to get stabbed in the back by their lack of awareness of the person around them.

you whose sole existence is to expose the true colors of abusers and reveal the lies they drown themselves in. you don’t care about how you do it, it doesn’t matter if you drive people into commiting murder against others or ruining their minds and destroying them to the point they get the idea of ending their own life. as long as it gets the job done, you’re all for it. after all… there was no ounce of care or remorse found in your lifeless heart.

it’s your purpose to torture those who are evil. bringing them karma over the horrible misdeeds they’ve kept secret and tear down the walls they’ve built to hide they’re selflessness.

it’s what they deserve.

nanno always punishes those who deserve it.

❝ but check your window . . . he's at your window ❞

© @deckedcards 2025 all rights reserved ☆ please do not repost, translate, copy or share my work on other platforms without my permission, thank you.

[luvbatsy]

❝ The reason I survived in hell - was for you, it was not for me. ❞

Ω!reader x α!jeong-hyun | omegaverse AU, fluff, NSFW | sub. bttm. reader (AFAB) | reader has had top surgery and bottom growth  | wc: 14k

warnings: mentions of dog fights, CA, graphic description of violence, power imbalance, yandere tendencies, mentions of drugs, stalking, mentions of torture, omegaverse element (heat/rut)

masterlist: how you met (mob yanderes) : pt. 1 (K.JH); pt. 2 (K, JH); pt.3 (K. JH)

authors note: first patreon post, gah! it's a big boy, but i truly did have so much fun writing this! once again, thank you so much for your support and i hope you enjoy this~

*songs on repeat: nervous by the neighbourhood, Guilty by Taemin, Darwinism by Halsey

* YN is described as wearing more fem. clothing as he performs.

Her tongue is the only comfort he knows. Those hazel eyes, dark and light all the same, glimmering as she nosed at the open scar on his arms. It stings — no, it aches. That big mouth with its sharp yellow teeth had grabbed onto his right hand and snapped tightly around it. He was sure his bones would shatter if he weren’t so old. His shoulders pulse to a senseless rhythm as she continues to drag her tongue across his open wounds. 

Even when her mouth was the same as the monster's and her teeth were yellow and sharp — she comforted him with her warm belly and even warmer milk, giving him glimpses of a life he had long forgotten. Her mewling pups crowd around him, still too young to turn into monsters themselves. Too small and too fuzzy. Their teeth were more needle-like as they nipped and whimpered. Their muddy multicoloured coats would be scarred and torn apart one day but not today.

The boy turns his head, his neck too frozen and stiff from pain whinges, so he sucks in a sharp breath. Mama pauses, her wet nose pressing to his cheek as she sniffed. The scrap on his cheek made her push a gentle kiss as she adjusted her posture, now lying down around his head in a crescent shape. It must be nice to have that fur coat, he thought as he reached forward to weakly grasp at her paw. 

She lets him, merely huffing as she turns her attention back to the bite on his arm. He’s laid on his side, the sweat and blood making dirt stick to him uncomfortably onto his naked body. The boy hears footsteps from the door, heavy boots slapping on the concrete while boisterous laughter booms. Mama growls low, her cropped ears pressing back while her entire body stiffens. The little ones, two balls of fur, stumble back with their eyes trained on the door. The shadows that move underneath it frighten them enough to have them rush to the boy. He grunts for a moment, pushing through the pain and sluggish movement to wrap an arm around them and pull them close to his neck and chest. He’s scared too. It was too open in this cage and he knew that even if he tried to fight, his wounds and the drugs that they’d given him, would make him too slow. 

The last time he had bared his teeth, the men had yelled at him. Angry as they spit out those harsh words, the heavy rings on their fingers splitting open his skin when they backhanded him. The little ones wouldn’t be able to take those blows. But the men wouldn’t care — they didn’t. The last time one had tried, Mama had lost it. She’d been whimpering as she nosed and licked at its cold body. The men had taken it away and Mama waited, and waited, and waited. 

The boy lets them nip and chew on his thumb while Mama watches the door when it opens he’d take the men head-on and keep them safe. Even if he’d black out from the pain or if they’d use the metal pipes and slam him down into the dirt, screaming at his face and mockingly calling him a mutt. The boy would be scared, downright terrified when that happens, as he thinks about the potential outcomes of fighting back he shudders in place — but the little ones would be more terrified, wouldn’t they?

He was small, but they were smaller. He was weak, but they were weaker. 

The boy would protect them. He loved them too much to let them be taken away from him. They were the only thing that gave him comfort; Mama and them. He knows in a way, it’s futile. Mama’s had little ones before, they weren’t little anymore. They’d gotten big and their teeth were sharp, but the boy didn’t fault them for snapping their jaws around his limbs because he saw himself looking into their eyes.

That fear wouldn’t go away even when they were all big now with rippling muscles that chased him and blunt claws that dug into his chest. They were still little ones in there, somewhere, whimpering for a sliver of kindness as the men turned them into monsters. 

Jeong-Hyun wheezes softly as the door opens. The little one's yelp and Mama growls. He wills his body to move even when it screams at him to stay stiff. The boy ignores it, crouching ahead of the puppies while he bares his teeth at the tall men. They shove each other, snickering as they reach for the lock on the cage and rhythmically tap the metal pipe onto their palms. He licks the front of his teeth, nostrils flaring as his broken nails drag across the concrete — the scraping sensation being felt in his teeth. His tense posture makes warm blood trail out from his open wounds as his veins pulse with fear.

The cage door swings open.

Amid the chaos around in this tight hallway and violent attackers, all he can zone in on is the sight of you running down the hallway and disappearing as you turn the corner. Confusion riddles his face for a split second — until a man rushes at him and slams him into the wall. These backstreet gangsters Beokseom hired were just like that asshole. They were teeth gratingly annoying as they tried to overwhelm him like a bunch of ants, swinging their arms around while they held the legs of the wooden stool or whatever else they could grab as a weapon. 

Every time Jeong-Hyun gripped his knife, he could see the apprehension in the clench of their jaw. He could read them like an open book. They were scared to die but wouldn’t do anything to win this fight. They were the appetizers in the dog fights — little dogs who’d bark up a storm when a big dog was in the ring and run when it retaliated with the bone-shaking snap of their jaws. 

Jeong-Hyun glances at the man holding onto his stomach, his eyes squeezed shut like a bitch. At that moment, a wooden stool leg smashes on his head and Joeng-Hyun’s vision tints with viscous red. He licks his lips at the metallic taste, raising his hand and stabbing it right into the man’s back. When he fights back, Jeong-Hyun can feel the way his muscles contract around the blade — when Jeong-Hyun pulls it out, he continues to hold him to the wall. 

So Jeong-Hyun rewards his valiant sacrifice. He stabs him again and this time, his grip loosens. Jeong-Hyun grabs at his face, pulling his body upwards just as someone swings down a cleaver. It gets stuck in the man’s shoulder, deep in the bone and spurting blood like a fountain. It catches the attacker off guard, he whispers a name and Jeong-Hyun tilts his head at the boy’s expression. So young, so full of life — Beokseom was a piece of work hiring a teenager to be his muscle. He wasn’t a gangster, he was a meat shield. 

Jeong-Hyun shoves the body away and it slams into the boy, he stumbles backwards and gets pinned to the floor by the warm corpse. More bodies drop next to him, necks slashed wide open or eyes missing — Jeong-Hyun had no mercy for the rest of the men. When they swung at him, his frightening face would morph into pure excitement. When they did land a hit, it was as if Jeong-Hyun couldn’t even feel the pain. 

He was a monster with one goal in mind. To destroy everyone who stood in his path. Just as he was instructed to. 

When they were kids, she thought the sun itself had blessed him. His hazel eyes were brighter than hers, glowing under the light while he cooed on his play mat. She’d given him his name, Jeong-Hyun; Peaceful, gentle, virtuous, worthy. It mirrored her name in a way. Seo-Yun — a gentle, prosperous omen. 

As she walked through the club’s backdoor, her nose curling at the scent of seafood and burned broth, and as her heels clicked on the blood-splattered floors of Beokseom’s hallways she thought their names still reflected them. Even if crooked or twisted from the nature of their world — Jeong-Hyun was ever so peaceful as he leaned against the glass table of Oh Beokseom’s office.

Behind her, following her the whole way down, were her men and women in crisp white button-ups and black jackets while their hands hovered over their belts. Compared to the mess on the floor with their different patterns of clothes and shitty tattoos that were torn apart, her muscles were leagues above. A united front, a proper pack, unlike these mutts. 

“I guess dying discretely was too much for Mr Oh,” she nudges the back of his shattered head with the toe end of her shoes. Jeong-Hyun breathes harshly through his nose, jaw unclenching as she places a hand on his shoulder. Comfort was a foreign concept to Jeong-Hyun, it was something completely unfamiliar to him while he was growing up. It took a lot of work for Seo-Yun to ease him down with just a reassuring touch — she’d never given up on him and for that he was grateful. 

He shows her your blade, and Seo-Yun pinches her brows together. 

The carnage around her reveals the story. Oh Beokseom could’ve died a simple, lacklustre, death but he’d fought back and brandished Jeong-Hyun’s courting gift as a way to…Seo-Yun glances at the brain smeared on the floor. He was a peacock, posturing and strutting around amongst the other underground beasts as if he were one of them; but birds had hollow bones and Beokseom was no bird of prey. He sang his songs too loudly and fluttered his fan of feathers to any teenage girl who wanted to brag about having a ‘gangster’ boyfriend. 

It was a shame. He was a decent businessman, and the girls here were good at being Seo-Yun’s ears and eyes. If he were more cunning, the blade would’ve been left alone and so would you. If he were smart, he would’ve used you as a snake hidden amongst flowers — you were desperate, weren’t you? 

You must be if you willingly worked here. Beokseom should’ve used that to his advantage rather than assume Jeong-Hyun would frolic so freely with you under his arm. 

“You got angry and smashed his head open,” she signed as she spoke, noting the twitch of pain in his cheek as blood trailed down his fingertips. “Then got into a fight by yourself. That was reckless,” she bent her right hand slightly and tapped her chest with the tip of her fingers at which he turned his head away with his nose in the air. A haughty sniff earned him a pointed squint from Seo-Yun.

“You messaged me and said he was here as well. Where’s your singer?” 

It was right there, the blue and white building with the words ‘POLICE DEPARTMENT’ written across the board. Your feet had carried you here, your heart pumping wildly in your chest as you leaned against the rough walls of the alleyway. Shuddering breaths rack through you as you stare at the policemen walking up the steps with their smiles free of trouble. With every blink you see that man in the hallway, that monster, with the blade he’d gifted you in his hands as he struck down everyone around him. That gentle smile, that violent scene. 

You brace your hands on your knees, tilting forward and catching yourself with a thud of your shoulder against the wall. Your back is soaked, the cafe t-shirt sticking to your back as you find yourself kneeling on the ground and spitting onto the ground in an attempt to control the sudden flux of saliva. You wrap an arm around your stomach and will yourself to not upset it further. The meagre breakfast you had been the only meal, between getting kicked out of your only house to now seeing —

You cover your mouth and nose, your eyes watering. A concerned murmur penetrates your silent effort to keep your food in your stomach, and a patrol officer kneels before you. 

“Are you alright?” Her eyes were concerned, lips pursed as she placed a hand on your shoulder. You dropped the hand from your face, her neon green vest drawing you into a trance as her kind face patiently waited for you to speak. Then, behind her, a long set of legs appeared. You recognised him from the club. He comes by with an entourage of policemen who are well past their prime but not their usefulness. 

He liked to grope you while you sat on his lap, bouncing you on that skinny knee and cussing that omega bitches were so easy to impress in a drunken slur. You see recognition in his eyes and without thinking, you spring away, scrambling backwards onto your ass then up onto your feet.

“Sir, are you alright?” She staggers to her feet as well, widening her arms in a display of openness, but you conjure it as a threat, a trap. 

The police weren’t going to help. You were naive to think that they would when they already turn a blind eye to the shady shipments of simple seafood restaurants in exchange for ‘free’ participation in the trade. 

Each step added more and more weight onto your weary shoulders. For a while, you wandered around aimlessly and thoughtlessly, trying to make sense of what you had just witnessed and wondering how your life had somehow come to this. A shitty part-time job at a cafe with a stingy boss who’d complain about the stretched-out collar of your shirt, seeing your shady boss’ head splattered across the ground like a smashed open watermelon and now effectively homeless because there was no way in hell you’d run back to the club. The scent of blood stuck onto you, like the dampness of your sweat, and you made a startling discovery. 

A spot of red had found itself on the top of your shoes. 

The sound of people flooding in, their casual conversations and the cadence of their footsteps, startles you enough to raise your head. The sky was almost completely dark now, the street lamps and shop lights illuminating your path. Couples walk past you, offering you a glance of curiosity and pity. You wrap your arms around yourself and reach to check if you have anything on your face — spit or blood. Your hands were clean but they were still shaking. The street was so open, that you take a step to safety but go rigid. Ha-Joon had kicked you out. Your things were back in that damned changing room. The realization causes your shoulders to slump and you stop in place, breathing a rattling sigh. 

You had nowhere to go. All that hard work, those sacrifices you made to claw your way through the mud in hopes of living a comfortable life and you found yourself pulled into the earth. Just work hard, people have told you, and then everything will be more or less smooth sailing. Maybe it was your fault, after all, that advice didn’t apply to getting your hands dirty with gangsters, did it? Even if you didn’t do anything bad, even if you told yourself you were desperate, was it worth it in the end?

You despised your father for taking these predatory loans, maybe you were his son and now you’re just doomed to repeat his mistakes. 

How could you be so stupid? 

That spot of blood mocks you, coming back to life as tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. You shouldn’t cry, you shouldn’t — not in a public street when you already look this frazzled. 

A sniffing snout approaches the blood stain and you blink in confusion at the dog’s muddy multicoloured coat and white snout. Its stubby tail wagged, its butt moving with the motion as it lifted its head and smiled at you. He wore a collar with a loose leash attached, and as you trace it you meet with a masked face. 

But those eyes were Jeong-Hyun’s. That milky left and that ambrosia-coloured right— you’re pinned in place. Should you run or scream? You couldn’t, frozen in suspension as he took one step, then another. Questions buzz through your head, a hive of confusion, but the absence of fear makes a shiver run down your spine. The alpha pauses before he gets too close while his dog continues its mission to get to know you better. 

Your pupils are trembling as he connects your gazes. Peeking from his mask was gauze stuck to his cheek, the bulk under his jacket wasn’t due to a shoulder strap it was instead the sling his arm was in. The question of how he found you flash through your brain. You’d made good progress in running away from the fiasco but as the dog’s wet nose presses to your twitching fingers, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d used its nose to seek you out. Leisurely walking the streets, an item of yours in his pockets, following his furry friend's guidance.

Or was it more sinister? Did the patrol cop tell you he’d bumped into you or were the CCTV’s under his control?

Ha-Joon had told you their strength but when it was simply word of mouth, you couldn’t quite fathom it. Now that you’d seen what he could do with his boot, knife, and some elbow grease — you don’t doubt his movie-like influence. 

Something inside of you preens at this. Jeong-Hyun was showing off, it simply made sense to the caveman in your brain. This alpha had been courting you and his gorish display was simply his way of appealing to this instinctual part of you. Your inner omega finds this all endearing as it all but shows its soft underbelly and flicks its tail under Jeong-Hyun’s nose. It’s equal parts ridiculous and shameful, however, it reminds you of a trump card you hold.

“You’re not going to hurt me, are you?” Jeong-Hyun’s eyebrows instantly raise and he shakes his head. He seemed shocked, genuinely shocked, that you would even think that. You play the part of an omega in distress — it didn’t take much acting considering you were one — and bring your shoulders up, hands cupping your elbows as you tilt your head down.

Jeong-Hyun reaches forward, gently placing a hand over yours to tap at it. He gestures to a cafe. You hesitantly follow, sitting on the outdoor chair and gasping softly as his dog places his head on your lap. His tail swept the floor as he pleaded to you with those gentle eyes. You gave him a few head pats, scratching behind his ears as Jeong-Hyun fished for his phone. He types into his phone as you let the sweet dog occupy your attention, when he’s done, he slides the phone to you.

[ Didn’t mean to scare ] 

[ Was trying to keep u safe ] 

[ Ur boss trouble he follows u home ]

[ My mistake I wanted to keep u safe ]

The more you read the more confused you got. Your boss had stalked you because Jeong-Hyun had gifted you things and given you attention, and Jeong-Hyun found an issue with it. This was earning him more brownie points from your omega — that dumb bitch — and you take a glance at him. 

He was waiting for your response with his eyes gentle, and beguiling. Gone were the traces of the beast in the hallway slicing down men like there were nothing more than blades of grass. He was a nervous schoolgirl again, just like he was the first night you met. 

“My boss was stalking me?” You try not to make your voice tremble, and you succeed. He nods, reaching for his phone again. Your fingers brush against his own when you pass it to him, and you swear you see the tips of his ears turn bright red. It takes everything in you not to snort at the sight. 

[ His people follow u ]

[ Take ur knife ]

[ Asshole. ]

A corner of your lips twitch, tugging your lip into a half-grin that Jeong-Hyun silently imprints into his mind. Despite the lack of details, he paints the picture for you; your boss had his grievances with Jeong-Hyun — the memory of him eating your food while he told you about their rudeness replays in your mind though his head is now just a bouquet of bone shards, gore, and his popped-out eye dangling below his chin — and strikes at the chance to get back at him through you because he’d shown his interest in you. 

You’d become homeless and scarred for life because your dumbass boss decided to use you because he felt disrespected. 

“Yeah, he is an asshole,” you mutter disdainfully. “Oh well, was,” you carefully hand Jeong-Hyun his phone again and instantly give the poor dog a few more ear scratches when he paws at your knees. 

“I’ll have to look for a new job.” Your eyes feel heavy, and you squint to focus as you fight the exhaustion of today’s events. You don’t even know why you’re telling him this. As you gently squeeze at his dog’s cute cheeks, you relax as it eagerly accepts your affections. 

“I’ll have to look for a new house.”

Jeong-Hyun slides his phone across the table. 

[ I can keep u safe ]

[ If u let me ]

[ U don’t have to work ]

[ My house is ur house ]

Well, he certainly didn’t beat around the bush. You shake your head and even with the mask on his face, you can tell he’s frowning. His eyebrows furrowing as he huffs at your stubbornness. Under the table, he scuffs the front part of his boots on the ground. Short off stomping his feet like a petulant child. You would get a headache from these two sides of him — spectrums would make more sense. Jeong-Hyun breathes sharply through his nose and then tilts his head, his downward-facing lashes fluttering. When you feel a paw place itself on your knee, you’re staring at the same expression on his dog. 

You purse your lips, trying not to laugh as you lean down to kiss the needy thing on his head. A glimmer of his collar grabs your attention and you take a second to read his name. 

“Hwan?” he perks up at the name. “Hwannie-ya” you coo sweetly. He gives a soft, gruff reply, surging upward to place his paws on your lap and lick at your face. His tail hits the table legs and you laugh softly at his affections. 

“I’m not going to live in your house, Mr. Kim. " He jerked his head back and scrunched his face. 

This time he shows you his phone screen.

[ Jeong-Hyun not Mr Kim ]

[ >:C ]

You smile at him this time. A proper one, with a sliver of teeth showing behind those beckoning lips. Your angelic voice utters his name, and it’s like it’s the first time he’s heard sound.

“Jeong-Hyun.”

He sinks into the chair, glancing away and unintentionally gives you a clear view of his good ear. Bright red, flushed right to the tip as he gave a curt nod. 

When Ha-Joon walks into his home, he nearly drops his bass in shock. There, in the living room, was a dog with its ears pointed forward and its eyes trained on him. It stood in front of the guest room door, a low rumbling noise escaping it as it stalked forward. 

The big dog was horrifying enough but on the couch was one of the most feared mobsters in the game; Kim Jeong-Hyun was idly flicking through his TV with his leather jacket draped across the back of the seat and his boots thrown off haphazardly at the hallway Ha-Joon wanted to disappear in.

Jeong-Hyun glanced over at Ha-Joon then gestured to the couch with nothing more than a jerk of his head. The bassist trembled, placed his bass down, and took a step forward. Hwan gives a low bark and Ha-Joon flinches, stiffening. Jeong-Hyun switches to a different channel, the volume is kept low but Ha-Joon recognizes the news anchor on the screen. When Jeong-Hyun clicks his tongue in annoyance, Ha-Joon comically stumbles over his long legs to reach the couch. 

God Jeong-Hyun was terrifying to look at. His face was mutilated and torn, skin stretched tight in some places, teeth exposed to the world his eye cloudy and most likely barely functional. It was a shame considering how the untouched parts of his face showed how handsome he could’ve been if it weren’t for his line of work. A rounded eye shape with a deep crease, strong eyebrows, a good nose shape and a strong jaw that he’s currently clenching the longer Ha-Joon stares. 

He moves to sit on the couch but Jeong-Hyun curls his lip and he squeaks. 

The alpha nods in front of him and Ha-Joon’s knees knock onto the carpet. He hears soft clinking in the kitchen and when he dares to sneak a glance, Ha-Joon sees a woman he swore had walked straight out of some graphic novel; her slanted eyes and full lips, her brows looked like they were in a perpetual state of worry which made her look kinder than the smile on her face showed.

“Ha-Joon, right?” Seo-Yun was holding a mug of coffee in her arm. She walked towards him, sitting on the armrest of the couch and delicately crossing her legs. Ha-Joon had heard tales of the Kim siblings from Hell. But in all those gorey stories, Jeong-Hyun’s name was much more prominent compared to his sisters. Jeong-Hyun tearing someone's neck apart, crushing someone’s ankles under his boot, sicking his dogs onto a wriggling human torso — Seo-Yun had never enacted such violence. The only thing he’d heard about her was the fact that she had a great rack and that she used to be some gangster's favourite lay before she somehow stole his little empire from him. It made Ha-Joon’s heart race just wondering what she could do to him.

“I’ll keep this simple. With Beokseom gone, his businesses naturally fall to us.” 

Naturally, what a strange choice of words. If Ha-Joon were braver he would have laughed. But he isn’t so he doesn’t. He wonders though if his boss had been warned or had been 

She says your name and Ha-Joon lifts his head. Hwan snaps his teeth next to his ear, making him yelp as he curls over to protect his head. He can feel the dog’s breath on his skin as it begins to growl lowly.

“We have to protect our own and (Y/N)’s in a tight spot, so be a gentleman and give him your guest room, won’t you?”

When he doesn’t answer her, Jeong-Hyun stands up and grabs his wavy locks, pulling him up until his back is arched uncomfortably and he’s choking on his spit from the sudden force. 

Seo-Yun takes a sip of her coffee, waiting for him to speak.

“Yuh - Yeah, yes, ma’am! I understand!”

Jeong-Hyun pulls his hair by his roots and Ha-Joon’s eyes fill with tears. When he makes a jerk motion to lift his arms, the dog snaps his jaws again and he simply sobs pitifully.

“My brother’s telling you to be quiet, (Y/N)’s had a rough night. He needs his rest.”

There’s a steady murmur of conversations throughout the room followed by the gentle clinks of glasses tinkling over the smooth laughter of the pretty omegas lounging next to tattooed men; their touches less than innocent, stroking and groping over his clothes in the safety of the dim lighting. 

The stage light makes those touches pause for a moment, though the men are not disappointed by it when they land their gaze on you. You were like a pearl glimmering on the stage, glossy lips pouted as you hummed a tune, the band behind you following your lead. If you were nervous, you didn’t let it show. Despite all their eyes on you, you continued to sing on stage with that sultry, clear, voice. The teasing movements of your hips and waist and your teasing grin were inciting a few of the alphas in the crowd. 

Further in the back, they gave you a sharp wolf whistle, earning a few cheers of agreement from the men around him. The girls lounging with them instantly glance at the table right in front of your stage, the one with only one currently occupied chair. His head twitches but he still faces you which makes the girls shift cautiously, now sharing looks. 

“Work it, baby!” one man cheers as you twirl on stage. She shifts under his arm, internally sighing when he simply pulls her in closer. “You getting jealous or something?” 

“No,” she giggles. “I’m just gonna get you some more drinks, so we can keep this party going all night long!” he slurs something about her just wanting him to spend more money on the club to get some cut out of it. Next to him, his buddy continues to holler and whistle at you. She sees Jeong-Hyun turn his head, his eye briefly shining like gold as he shoots daggers towards him. 

It’s your touch that pulls him away from his violent plans. You place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently as you move to stand behind him. Carefully, your fingers slide down his chest, brushing over his stomach as your cheek ghosts his own; you sing right into his ear. You’re so close he can hear the vibrations in your voice and that addicting scent that’s so undeniably yours. It was sweeter tonight, maybe it was the perfume you were wearing, but it made him inhale deeply.  

Jeong-Hyun truly crumbles under your touch. All at once, any other thought simply floats away as you gently brush the tip of your nose to his cheek, stifling a chuckle as he clenches his fist on the table as if holding himself back from embracing you — he was.

That tumultuous night felt like years ago when it had only been a month. 

A month of peace and for once, dare you say stability. When his jaw clenches, the whole club can hear the smile in your voice. It’s strange how easily you can ease him down from the violence that came to him as easily as breathing — all it took was a touch, a glance, a soothing melody from your lips. Jeong-Hyun turns to face you, taking in your coy expressions head-on so brazenly.

Ha-Joon watches this exchange from the stage, his eyes following you when you decide to pull away from Jeong-Hyun and return to your spot on stage. You were truly an idiot, courting a dangerous man like Jeong-Hyun just because he’d been nice to you — Ha-Joon couldn’t hide his disdain. Humiliation filled him as he remembered the night they’d come into his home and forced him to house you like he was some sort of slave they could just push around. It didn’t help that now, Jeong-Hyun or his men would casually hang around his front door to bring you here or there. 

His neighbours — ones he made an effort to get to know now — ask him quietly if you were his ex-boyfriend, and if it was awkward for him to see his omega go out on dates with shady figures. Because that’s what it looks like for the average person, a silly petty romance plot. They had no clue how much blood stained the hands of the alpha that held onto your own.

“Ha-Joon,” the keyboardist hisses at him. He jerked his head up, noticing his fingers had stopped strumming along completely and the band was trying their hardest to cover up his mistake. You don’t glance back at him, crooning into the microphone and shrugging down the faux fur shoulder wrap to expose more of your skin.

It works easily enough. The cheers from these deplorable men drown them out, but that didn’t matter to you. You weren’t here to please them. You were here to perform for Jeong-Hyun. 

The Kim siblings had taken ownership of Beokseom’s clubs. Irking more and more mobsters who felt like their little pieces of paradise were being taken away by them — still stubbornly refusing to bow their heads, holding out the inevitable. The workers, the ones who didn’t stupidly tie loyalties to Oh Beokseom, of these establishments didn’t find the transition too rough. It didn’t matter who they worked under, as long as they kept their heads down and worked quietly, they’d do just fine. 

The ‘entertainers’ found themselves being spoiled rotten though. Seo-Yun always had a soft spot for them, guess it ran in the family. She didn’t raise a hand to them posted more security, and hired in-house doctors too. 

Jeong-Hyun was less professional in his pampering of you. As you walk into your tiny changing room, you immediately pause on the threshold when you spot a gift box on your table. The note on it simply read;

For you 

He didn’t sign off on them anymore. He didn’t need to. You smile, reaching for it to undo the delicate red ribbon. It was a bracelet, the silver links delicate but still noticeable from afar. It glimmered under the lights of your vanity, shining under your touch as you admired the details of it. The gifts he gave you had always been a bit eccentric — the knife and the dark flowers — but they’d always reflected him and his silent admiration for you. 

Things to keep you safe with, things that reminded him of your beauty, things that you could wear to satiate that possessiveness alphas had within them. You felt bad for simply giving him things like food or cheesy little poems but when he looked at you — God, when he looked at you.

It was strange, how easily he made you draw your bridge down because he didn’t tear your walls down. He could’ve done so, he could’ve scaled it and laid waste to what you so dearly protected. He had the power, the money, the scary reputation. 

But instead, he waited and waited. You set the pace, you made the first moves for affection. It was as if the monster in that hallway was just a mirage your brain was playing on you. Jeong-Hyun never stowed you away in his home, never chained you to his basement, he understood your need for independence. 

You still worried about being stalked or used but you didn’t have to. Not when Jeong-Hyun had already made sure to have more capable people keep their eyes on you, to have Ha-Joon keep him updated about your comings and goings. You would be safe, Jeong-Hyun would make sure of it. When you’re ready, when you trust him enough to be completely his, he’ll be sure you won’t have to worry anymore.

You could just live, not survive. When — not if — you were his, he’ll be sure nobody could hurt you anymore. You were his treasure, his paradise — his angel.

A knock on your door makes you lift your head. Jeong-Hyun leans on the threshold of your open door, smiling. He walks in when you turn to face him, and the small room seems to amplify his broadness. He glances at the bracelet you’re holding and then connects your gazes.

“I like it,” you tell him in a soft voice as if sharing a secret. He visibly perks up and offers his hand, palm up. “You wanna put it on me?”

Of course, he does. He didn’t have to wear a sling anymore for his shoulder, he could finally do things without being restrained by that stupid contraption. His gloved hands always send shivers down your spine, the smooth leather brushing over your bare skin never failing to make heat rise to your face. 

He drags his thumb down your arm to your wrist, his fingers curling around it as he adjusts the silver bracelet around it. 

“Tomorrow, there’ll be a food market,” he hums in acknowledgement while he clasps the lobster hook to the chain. “I’m off the entire day. Would you like to come along with me?” 

Jeong-Hyun admires your wrist for a moment then nods, signing the words for ‘work’ and ‘after’ to you that you squint your eyes at for a second. 

“After work?” you mimic his movement unsurely, Jeong-Hyun smiles and repeats it slower so you can catch it while he mouths it. 

“After work,” You repeat much more surely. You don’t know what his work entails. He could just be following Seo-Yun to meetings, or checking on their territories, or he could be stomping someone’s head open like a watermelon. 

Jeong-Hyun leans in and gently places his forehead over yours. His eyes closed as the rounded tip of his nose brushed over your cheek and the tip of your own. Your lashes tremble and he simply eclipses that horrible memory with his sweetness. You feel something inside you wavering, succumbing to his affections as you press your lips to the corner of his, giggling when you hear his sharp inhale and his grip loosening and tightening unsurely around your hand. 

Jeong-Hyun meets you at the entrance of the food market with no traces of red on him or gunpowder stuck to his gloves. Work must’ve gone smoothly then. You greet him and he reaches for your hand. When you walk together, he always puts you on his good side; not for vanity but for his comfort. Jeong-Hyun is always more alert in public when you’re by his side it ramps up. 

“Jeong-Hyun, are you hungry?” you peek up at him, wondering what he’d choose from the array of food. You’d bought him food before, even made him food once or twice when you knew he’d be watching you perform that night. But he’s never said what his favourite foods were, happily chewing on whatever with his hand politely covering his mouth as he did. 

He nodded, gently squeezing your hand as the both of you made your way deeper into the market. The stalls were bright and colourful, and the scent of the food was beginning to make Jeong-Hyun salivate. “I used to work here,” you said as you paused in front of a food stall, watching Jeong-Hyun lean forward and subtly sniff the air of the cooking broth. “Back in high school, I used to work at those noodle stalls to help with bills. I couldn’t eat noodles for months, the smell of the broth would stick to my hair and some dumbasses at school would joke that I was a walking noodle ad or something.” 

Jeong-Hyun imagined you in a high school uniform, then himself, frowned when he imagined those dumbasses who teased you and promptly wondered what he’d do to them if we were there for you. Not that he could’ve done much back when he was that age, but he could fight. That would be enough. 

He taps your shoulder, then asks if you still don’t enjoy noodles. You pout your lips forward, shrugging then make a so-so gesture. “It’s not my favourite, but I can stomach it. It’s cheap,” when the owner of the stall greets you, you momentarily turn away to return it. He focuses behind you, keeping a watchful eye as you ask her about the different types of flavours in the broth. Asking for two cups along with a few skewers of some fish cakes, a neutral food to start the date with.  

But his question reminds you to ask the same of him. “Do you have a favourite food?” Jeong-Hyun thinks about it as he takes the paper cup of fish broth and fish cake, watching as you pay for the meal. His brow twitches but you pay it no mind. He could pout all he wants, but you won’t budge about it. The shine of the bracelet on your wrist at least softens his petulant expression. 

He shrugs, pulling his mask down and taking a small bite of the fish cakes before he swiftly pulls the mask back up over his nose. He gently grabs the back of his left hand with the thumb and pointer finger of his right hand, careful not to spill the broth. Seo-Yeon had signed it before in front of you when she asked what sort of meat Jeong-Hyeon had gifted you. 

Ah, that explains that one. You didn’t expect to get a box of expensive cuts of beef being delivered to Ha-Joon’s home that one day — guess that’s why.

“Just meat?” Jeong-Hyun nods excitedly. 

“Beef? Chicken?” you chew on the fishcakes, and mumble out, “Fish?”

Jeong-Hyun just nods along, taking a moment to take another bite as you both continue to walk down. You feel a bit more confident now, already knowing which stalls to bring him to. Though eating meat would be pretty heavy, so you ask him if he likes anything sweet. You’re glad that he doesn’t mind these quiet dates, enjoying the park dates spending time with you in your changing room or that one time he simply sat in Ha-Joon’s car to send you home. That had been comical due to Ha-Joon’s flustered expression but Jeong-Hyun was delighted to be spending his time with you as he completely ignored Ha-Joon’s presence and focused on you. 

“Is the mask annoying?” You ask as you both sit down on the plastic chairs, waiting for your meal to be sent to your table. Jeong-Hyun shakes his head, placing his elbows on the table. 

Nah, I hate the stares more. Makes me….

He pauses, then continues.

ANNOYED.

You laugh at his deadpanned eyes and furrowed brows. He doesn’t ever show that his scars bothered him — despite living in a country where facial scars would completely shun you from society. Jeong-Hyun huffs, watching you scrunch up your nose as you call him silly in that fond tone. 

“Maybe next time, we can go somewhere nobody will stare.”

Your house?

“Ha-Joon-Hyung’s house,” you corrected with a snort. “But no, maybe we could spend some time at your place?” Jeong-Hyun perks up, his cheeks lifting behind the mask but you could still see him smiling despite it. 

When you finish eating the heavy meal, Jeong-Hyun and you set off to find some dessert to offset the savoury flavours. In the middle of your debate between eating bungeoppang or hotteok when you notice a familiar face in the crowd — Jeong-Hyun instantly catches onto your expression. He follows your line of sight and meets eyes with a stocky man with a toad-like face. 

“Shit,” he turns to you as you take a few steps back. The toad man yells at you, uncrossing his arms when he notices you will make a run for it. “C’mon!”

“Hey! You motherfucker!”

Jeong-Hyun wondered if you’d forgotten who he was, and what he could do but truthfully you didn’t. But you knew that if he started murdering people in the middle of a food market, you knew it’d just cause him more trouble than he needed. Plus, even with his arm free from the sling, you see how his jaw clenches when he removes his jacket. Jeong-Hyun doesn’t particularly enjoy showing his pain, you imagine when everyone wants to kill him it makes him build these walls. 

“Loan shark!” you yell at Jeong-Hyun, still holding onto his hand as you rush through the crowd, trying not to trip on your legs. “Loan sharks! These assholes!”

They’d been looking for you after you moved out, wondering where the hell had you run off to. Even if you keep paying them, you know they get satisfaction from intimidating you and wringing you dry for more money. A part of you would love to see these assholes eat dirt but Jeong-Hyun shouldn’t be hurt over this. 

You’re too focused on getting out but Jeong-Hyun is keenly aware when he’s getting closed in on. 

A few men rush in, shoving people away as they try to reach for him or you. Up ahead, there are a few others already waiting by the entrance of the market and Jeong-Hyun tugs you backwards, ignoring the gasp of shock you let out and instead slipping you into a tighter road, urging you to rush ahead with a short gruff shout. There are fewer people here, the alleyways are getting more isolated and claustrophobic. The rush of men behind you began getting filed into single lines and Jeong-Hyun skids to a stop to grab at a trash bag and flinging it towards them. They stumble over, falling on top of each other but it doesn’t slow them down. 

Someone manages to get close though and Jeong-Hyun dodges him, bringing his fists up to protect his face. A big chunk of them were still struggling to get onto their feet but he focused on the ones right in front of him, blocking them off from you as he waited for them to get close. It was a risky move but considering his shoddy depth perception, he had to be sure his hits landed.

With you being there, it’s putting him more on edge. Behind his mask, his lips were curled as he pumped out his scent of pure anger into the air, the bitter tang making his opponents snarl defensively.

Seo-Yun always scolds him for getting into fights like these. He was strong but he had his blindspots, he’s gotten lucky all this while that he hadn’t gotten stabbed anywhere ‘important’ but if he kept testing his luck —

“Jeong-Hyun!”

You were way too brave for your own good. For a second, everything slowed down and Jeong-Hyun saw you step in front of him, holding a wooden plank in your hands that you bring down onto someone’s head. They crumple, blood spurting out from the top of his head as he crashes onto the ground. You rear it backwards again as someone lunges and Jeong-Hyun kicks them square in the chest to keep them away.

He should be angry, he realises that, but seeing you like that made a thrill rush through him. He glances back at you and you tighten your grip on your newfound weapon. If you were going to fight, you might as well fight together. You wished you had your knife in the moment, at least you’d be able to swing it around and scare the loan sharks off. 

Jeong-Hyun elbows someone in the face, breaking his nose and grabbing onto the back of his jacket to spin and throw him towards the wall. You kept to his blind spots, showing your teeth as you continued to swing your weapon around. When the toad-faced man rushes into the alleyway, he doesn’t expect to see his goons clutching their bleeding heads and noses or fully passed out on the ground. He yells, grabbing them by their hair to shove them back into the fray.

You were beginning to get overwhelmed by them, snapping your teeth to deter them. The toad wrenches your wooden plank away and tries to put you into a headlock. Jeong-Hyun didn’t turn around to the sound of your pained yells — it was the pained yells of the toad man. You were biting down on his arm, elbowing and kicking your legs to get away from his grip. 

Jeong-Hyun feels heat travelling south but he ignores it and instead comes to your aid. He grabs the man’s face, nearly digging his fingers into his forehead and cheeks and using his momentum to slam him into the wall. He groans weakly as he slides down the surface but the relief is temporary when he hears the yells for backup. You grab his gloved hands and tug him away, urging him to hurry, but he’s stunned.

You’re smiling at him. You look frazzled and a bit roughed up but no bruises were visible, but you were adrenaline-fuelled. Jeong-Hyun wanted to gather you in his arms and take your breath away. But you needed to get to safety first. There aren’t a lot of shops further down this path. So while they were still distracted, Jeong-Hyun grabbed your wrist and booked it.

He could feel his breath suffocating him as he dashed down the tight corners. Behind him, the most melodic sound bubbled up. You were laughing breathlessly, your hair bouncing with every harsh step and he could see blood stain your lips. He smiles underneath his mask, refocusing on getting away safely.

He spots a blue glow on the pavement ground and notices the half-open shutter door. He skids to a stop and urges you to get inside, he glares as he hears the angry yells and rushed footsteps so he quickly slides under the shutter door. Jeong-Hyun hears the sounds of water first, then the soft gasp of wonderment from you. You’re staring into a fish tank, wiping away the sweat from your neck as you catch your breath. They’re a colourful bunch of small fishes, placed onto metal shelves with the constant noise of the water filter and disturbed water barely muffling the noise of the buzzing LED lights. 

It’s cold here, but you’re still sweating, and he can feel your warmth as he draws close. That valley of flowers had a tonal shift. His nose twitched, and he came closer, hovering over your shoulder and pulling his mask down, thinking that he must be imagining things. Your hand gently reaches over your shoulder and curls under his chin while you still face forward at the tanks. You touch so casually, completely undeterred by him looming over your shoulder.

“That one is pretty,” He looks at the ribbon-finned fish you’re pointing at. It had iridescent scales, its fins full and flared as it swam close to your finger. It hits him the moment he registers exactly why your scent was burning — it wasn’t an early symptom of fever or exhaustion — and he immediately feels the ends of his hair bristle up. 

You were in heat. 

“I think they went down here!”

You were in heat and you weren’t safe.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, lifting you off your feet and pulling you towards his chest. You panic, briefly, but accept your fate as he fumbles to open a door open and slip inside. It’s dark, the only light source coming from beneath the metal panels at the bottom of the door. It’s not a small space, as it was filled with fish tank maintenance materials and a freezer probably filled with fish foods or whatever else. But due to the volume of materials, it meant you’d be pressed closer — very close — to the alpha.

You can feel him breathing down your neck, his grip on your tightening as his pupil shrank into nothing but a dot of black against honey. He’s braced one arm on the wall, tugging you closer in a way he’d never done before and you wonder if everything was alright with him — he’d never acted so possessively before. You gasp softly when you hear a few voices echo behind the door. Jeong-Hyun’s chest rumbles, but not in those rare alpha rumbles of contentment, no. He’s going to start growling, the noise more guttural than anything you’d heard before. You try to turn in his arms which makes him snap his eyes towards you.

“Jeong-Hyun?” You whisper, willing your voice to go as soft as it could go. You squirm and this time, he reprimands you swiftly. He shoves his face to your neck and bites — not harsh enough to draw blood, barely enough pressure to even leave indents on his teeth, but the message is simple. 

Don’t fuss. 

It’s an old, rarely used, practice that mates would do. The alpha would gently reprimand their mate by letting them feel their teeth, a soft display of their power and dominance. Their mates would usually reply with a nip to their chins if they were in a more playful mood; a simple gesture of trust being shared between the couple.

‘You could hurt me with your teeth but you don’t, thank you.’

You freeze, breath hitching at the feeling of his sharp canines gently pressing themselves on your skin. You feel yourself getting aroused — there’s a reason this display isn’t seen as often anymore and why it was only shared between a mated couple, it was lewd to tease an omega’s neck. Your shoulders droop and you tilt your head the other way, so he lets your neck go and as a silent apology, he flattens his tongue to your skin.

You chew on the insides of your cheek, shivering as he continues to slowly drag his tongue on the column of your neck. Your scent was beginning to burn, the headiness causing Jeong-Hyun to loosen his grip around your waist so you wouldn’t feel his cock beginning to create a noticeable bulge in his pants. You don’t need to press up against it to know how turned-on he already is. You didn’t even care at the moment, all you could feel was how hard you were. 

Jeong-Hyun feels you curling over and he quickly wraps both his arms around you, eyes widening in shock as you shiver and shake. You have your hands over your mouth, muffling your pants as a rush of warmth just washes over you.

This cannot be happening, you curse inwardly as you glare at the storeroom’s floor. Out of all days, for your heat to come, it had to be the day you were trying to run away from loan sharks and in the fucking storeroom of an aquatic pet shop. Your stomach twists uncomfortably, feeling too vulnerable, and exhaustion hits you all at once. Jeong-Hyun gently tries to press your back to his chest, worrying over you while the shadows under the door shift and sway. 

“Shit, did we lose them?”  “Maybe they went further up? 

Someone leans on the door harshly and Jeong-Hyun carefully reaches forward to hold the door knob in place, his other hand cupping over your nose and mouth.

“This door is locked,” someone grunted and your heart rate picked up as he tried to jangle the doorknob open. “Are you hiding in there? You cheap slut, you think just because you got a boyfriend that you can disappear? You know how much money your spineless bitch of a father owes us, if you can’t pay it then we’re gonna turn you into —- “

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” an old man yelled out. The door knob stopped moving and the both of you held your breath. “I already called the police! You’re trying to rob me, right!? The police are on their way! You bastards!”

Never in a million years would Jeong-Hyun be relieved that someone had called the police. The loan sharks yell back, trying to intimidate the old man but soon the sound of the old man’s angry yells and thudding quickly drove them out.

“These damn gangsters, always causing me trouble! I’m old already! I should be relaxing by the ocean, keeping my blood pressure down but these sons of bitches want to rob my store —” He kept rambling on and on as he hobbled away.

Jeong-Hyun can finally breathe, turning his attention towards you. He needs to get you somewhere safe as quickly as he can, you’re already too warm for his liking and when he removes his hand from your mouth, his heart clenches at the whine you let out. You’re trembling a bit, panting as you fight through the haze of your heat.

“Jeong-Hyun,” you mumble softly. “Jeong-Hyun…”

“Mm-mm” he has to focus on slipping his phone out, calling a number and quickly hanging up when the first ring went through. You’ll be okay, he wants to tell you as he nosed at the top of your head and held you close. 

You lean into him, stretching your neck out to brush your lips against his jaw and Jeong-Hyun’s grip felt bruising even over your clothes. You whine softly, facing him and looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes. You’d always wondered how he’d be during intimate activities — would he be ruthless or would be gentle? Your curiosity is piqued and your self-restraint is beginning to fray.

You press a kiss over his cheek, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck as your chests press together. You could feel his hard-on, his firm body, his tense shoulders — his scent causing your head to spin the closer you get. 

Bergamot and leather, a hint of freshness accompanying that intoxicating mix. 

You pull his mask down, wanting — no needing to feel his bare skin. He watches you closely, his cheeks dusted with pink as you lean in and press your lips against his. You weren’t usually like this. Your heats were more annoying than they were arousing, even with previous partners. With the uncomfortable aches all over and the fogginess that can take over your brain, it was a complete nuisance. Especially when you couldn’t afford to take a week off of work.

But with Jeong-Hyun, there was this unbearable urge. A raging fire under your skin that only he could satisfy — your omega had been singing praises for him for a month now. His sweet personality, his courting gifts, his gentle touches. Even his violence excited you in a way that frightened you. Jeong-Hyun was a strong, capable, mate and you were tired of denying it. 

He’s frozen at the act, eyes widening while you kiss him. The feeling of his exposed teeth didn’t deter you, you simply hummed and brushed your teeth on his lower lip. Jeong-Hyun doesn’t know what to do — he’s never had someone kiss him. He tries to mimic your movements, tilting his head the opposite way and when you moan softly Jeong-Hyun’s head floats away.

He pins you against the wall, covering the back of your head to lessen the impact, and kisses you like he’s been starved for days. He has no real coordination, his teeth are sharp and his actions clumsy, but there’s this hunger simmering within him. His wanton needs to have you as he steals your breath away.

You thread your fingers through his hair, whispering his name as his leg comes to rest between your legs. The brief friction made you groan, pulling away to breathe which Jeong-Hyun decided it’s too much distance — he chases after you and claims your lips once again.

He needed you. Here and now. He needed to claim you, mark you, fuck you. Jeong-Hyun can’t risk anyone else seeing you and taking you away from him. No, they’re not allowed. He’ll rip their fucking throats out if they tried to. You gasp, tasting him on your tongue as he braces his arms next to your head. 

His phone buzzes against his thigh. Jeong-Hyun flinches, pulling away to hang up the call, but then he sees that your eyes are dazed; your lips red and bitten, and as you breathe, you take in these stuttering inhales. Your scent was beginning to fill this room and the sounds of the freezer, water filters, and LED lights, rushed to him.

This was far too exposing. 

He picks up the call and strokes your neck to soothe you while you reach for the front of his shirt and try to pull him in again.

“We’re right in front of the pet shop, boss. The coast is clear. Should we head in?”

Jeong-Hyun grunts harshly — his way of saying ‘no’ — and then hangs up. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips as he runs his hands down your back, waist, hips, and ass, then finally catches the back of your knees and effortlessly lifts you in his arms. 

You said you wanted to see his home, so he’s bringing you home.

The car ride is quiet, Jeong-Hyun had you on his lap, gently rubbing your back as you tried to keep your hands to yourself. His drivers were semi-familiar to you. The man driving usually accompanies the siblings, his signature black sunglasses and slicked-back hair hovering close by. The other one, with his spiked-up hair and a cocky grin, is also a familiar presence. Which should be comforting, but at the moment, it’s extremely awkward considering they were all alphas and you were in the throes of your heat. 

Jeong-Hyun pressed kisses to your cheek and temple, brushing your hair away from your face while the A/C was blasting cold air through the backseats. It was helping you cool down, but you wanted nothing more than the comfort of soft bedding and four walls. But thanks to the peaceful albeit awkward car ride, you manage to get your bearings enough. 

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Jeong-Hyun’s expression twists indignantly in confusion. He said everything without opening his mouth and you let out a weak chuckle. “I’m just saying.”

Jeong-Hyun moves his head from left to right, his lower lip pushed forward as he peers up at you. You laugh softly, cupping his face and brushing your thumb over his cheek while you press your forehead to his. At times he truly resembled a puppy or a dog who was unaware of their size and strength. 

Leaning forward, you hide your face in the crook of his neck. Breathing in his comforting scent, while the car continues its incline to Jeong-Hyun’s home. 

Jeong-Hyun thanks his men wordlessly while you lean against him, waving goodbye at them —- they tentatively return it before they drive away. Jeong-Hyun’s house has a huge yard, most likely tended to by a gardener rather than Jeong-Hyun judging by the neatly trimmed flower bushes. His home was tucked up and further away from his neighbours and it doesn’t take long to know why. 

The second he opens the door, Hwan is racing and barking excitedly. Behind him was a pack of other dogs in varying sizes. They all had their tails wagging furiously, barking and yipping as they weaved through your legs and sniffed you invasively. Jeong-Hyun chuckles, playfully shoving them away with his hands so you can walk. You count that there were 7 dogs, including Hwan, and coo as they smiled up at you. 

“You like dogs, huh?” Jeong-Hyun placed his mask on the shoe cabinet and kicked his shoes off, which distracted the dogs enough that they crowded him instead. Hwan stayed by your side, silently begging for pets as he leaned against your leg.

Jeong-Hyun makes a so-so gesture, grinning lopsidedly. He takes off his gloves, placing them next to his mask. Jeong-Hyun’s hands were scarred, but still intact. You wonder if his entire body was covered in scars, the thought makes you gasp softly.

“Shit, we should check if you’ve got any wounds. Do you have a first aid kit?”

Jeong-Hyun knew his sister had stocked up his home with first-aid kits in every bathroom. He guides you to his bedroom, taking off his jacket and folding it over his arm. Every time he’s shrugged that leather jacket off, his broad shoulders and figure calls for you to appreciate the work he’s put into himself. The black long-sleeved shirt he’s wearing isn’t torn or cut, thankfully, but you’re worried about the darker patches near his shoulder. 

His bedroom layout was odd for a modern home. Instead of having the bed be in the centre, it was pushed right into the darkest corner, with his sheets messily strewn across it. The dark wooden floors were covered by rugs on rugs, like a Persian tent. There was a door leading to a walk-in closet which was much more neat and filled compared to his bare bedroom — other than his bed, there was a nightstand with its drawers overloaded with the most random things. 

An interesting bedroom for an interesting man you suppose. 

Jeong-Hyun tells you to sit on his bed while he walks towards his bathroom. You nearly sink into the mattress and duvet, catching yourself by grabbing the edge of his bed. His bedding was prime nesting material, you wonder if it was his nest. Alphas aren’t known for making nests but it’s not unheard of. His was less constructed but there was an unmistakable wide C-shaped mound of pillows in the corner of the wall and you couldn’t resist it — your instincts were seeking comfort and what better comfort than a nest? 

Jeong-Hyun’s heart stutters seeing you laid on your side, bringing his pillows to your face and chest. You weren’t brazenly sat in the centre of his nest, being respectful as you linger on the edges but the look of contentment on your face has him gripping onto his first-aid kit with more force than necessary.

Your shirt was riding up your stomach and he frowns as he takes note of the bruised skin. He sits by your legs, lashes trembling as he reaches for your shirt. He pauses and looks up at you, inhaling sharply when he sees the way you’re looking at him. 

Those heavy-lidded eyes, watching him closely as you nuzzle into his pillows. The scent of your heat wasn’t helping him at all, he gulped thickly and you laughed softly, hiding your face while your hand reached down to pull your shirt up.

Jeong-Hyun’s hands are rough. His knuckles and finger pads were calloused and scarred. You can’t imagine how much pain he’d been in and how strong he truly was to withstand everything and still stand fearlessly against people who wanted him dead. Doing everything he could to survive, to make it through the next day. He should be cruel, and to his enemies, you know he is, but he’s so gentle with you. Jeong-Hyun’s glad you have nothing more than bruising and some scrapes, no stitches are required. 

The bed creaks under his weight as he hovers above you, nosing the top of your head to coax you to look at him once again. 

Take off your shirt.

You nod, sitting up and pulling your top off. He’s attentive as he checks your arms and back. His hands were so big, spread over your back as he makes sure he hadn’t missed a thing and you feel so warm and so fucking horny. 

The silence wasn’t helping the tension, so you ask him to take his shirt off too.

“I wanna make sure you’re not hurt.”

Jeong-Hyun’s body was impressive, toned and built for necessity rather than vanity. He had a myriad of scars, ranging from what looked like gunshot wounds to knife slashes. The ones on his arms were brutal — it looked as though someone had pulled his skin off in chunks, with no rhythm or rhyme. Your hands aren’t baby skin soft, he could feel the callouses on them from your arduous labours. You feel the bumps and raised scars on his shoulder and arms, sensing a strange pattern on his upper arm and tracing it for a second.

Dog bites. His arms were covered in dog bites. The torn-off skin and messily stitched wounds, the discoloured reddish patches on him — all dog bites. You can’t hide the shock on your face and Jeong-Hyun just smiles.

Jeong-Hyun cups your face, his grin soft and warm, as he brushes his thumb over your cheek. 

I’m fine.

He then turns his back to you and you focus on the scar on his shoulder that had reopened. It was just a surface wound now, but you’re diligent as you clean it. 

“This might sting,” you tell him and Jeong-Hyun pretends to flinch in pain which makes you stutter out apologies only to pause when you hear him laugh. The scar across his neck didn’t deter him from making such a sweet sound as his shoulders jerked up and down at your bewildered expression. It was a bit strained but it was Jeong-Hyun — that scratchy baritone that would squeak at some points as he smiled widely at you. 

“That’s not funny,” you mutter as you go back to cleaning his shoulder. Trying very hard to ignore how drenched you were. He hums, amused. As if saying ‘yes it was’ in his own way. 

You place a square bandaid over his now-cleaned scar and hope it can finally have time to heal before he gets into more trouble. You can tell he’s aware of every touch and caress, his muscles twitching and his ear moving whenever he clenches his jaw. You hook your chin over his shoulder and he turns his head to face you. He had his fingers clenched into fists on his lap as some form of self-restraint. You trace his arms, forcing him to spread his fingers as you press your thumbs soothingly down the crescent shapes on his palms. 

He was so hard. The tent in his pants practically begging for you to help. Jeong-Hyun grabs onto your wrist when you reach for his zipper, eyes widening in alarm. 

“Am I going too fast?” You whisper, blinking in confusion. Jeong-Hyun looks away, scratching the back of his neck for a moment then tells you;

I’ve never… he pauses as he tries to find the words. I’ve never…

He makes a circle with his thumb and pointer finger, then uses his right hand to shove a digit through it. 

“Wait, you’ve never had sex before?” he wonders why that catches you so off-guard. 

No. Have you?

“Well, yeah,” you admitted. He frowns though it looks more like a petulant pout than anything. Despite your shock, you can’t deny how excited you were about this fact, which disgusts you for a moment — you felt like those alphas who preached about wanting a ‘pure’ omega as their mate despite not being a virgin themselves. But your omega was practically purring in delight at this newfound information. You’d be his first time and something about that made you childishly giddy and incredibly horny. 

Jeong-Hyun feels a bit anxious now. He had an invisible competition with assholes you’d slept with — he could break someone's arm over his knee with no issue but sex wasn’t something he had ever been interested in. His experience was zero and the only reference he had was whenever he caught Minjeon — the guy with the spiky hair and cocky smirk who was in the car earlier — watching porn on his phone in the car. 

He knows how it happens but not how to do it. Don’t get him wrong, he wants to do it with you but now he has to make sure he erases every other trace of those lame bitches from you. 

“Hey, it’s okay.”

You muse out, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“I can teach you.”

Jeong-Hyun is still frowning — pouting — but when you reach for the front of his jeans, he doesn’t grab at you. You gasp softly when you pull his dick out, watching it twitch in the air with pre already beading on his blushing tip. It was thick and heavy, and you blushed furiously as you thought of it going inside of you. 

You kiss his jaw, naked chest still pressed to his naked back and he shivers as he feels you slowly trace your lips to his neck just as you stroke his dick. His neck was a part of him he protected fiercely, you still remember how tight his grip on your hand was the first night you met, so you make sure to watch for any signs of discomfort as you kiss it. He pants softly, shivering every time he feels you grip his tip and your sweet kisses — Jeong-Hyun had never felt pleasure like this before and that was evident from how fast his heart was beating. 

You trace a vein on his neck with your tongue and it has him gasping. Jeong-Hyun turns his head, nearly knocking his nose to yours and claims your lips. You struggle not to smile as you kiss him, still pumping his dick in your hands until he turns to climb on top of you.

You have him on his back, sitting comfortably on his lap while you grip his jaw. Your eyes are half-open while you watch him furrow his brows, desperate noises escaping him while your tongues tangle together. While he held onto you it was clear who was leading this dance and how willing the other participant was. He can feel how wet you are, the smooth glide of your cunt on his cock was making him drool. You licked it up from his chin, moaning his name softly while your dick bumps into his. 

“Mn!” Jeong-Hyun tosses his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he grounds your hips down. You nose at his neck and he only gives a low growl as a response but makes no move to stop you; it fills you with a smugness you didn’t even think you could have. You guide his hands to your ass and groan when he immediately spreads you apart, the tip of his fingers brushing against your slit.

“You can put one finger in, Jeong-Hyun” You perk your ass out, smiling down at him. He licks his lips and does just that, sliding one digit in and instantly his pupil blows out like he’s on some drug. Your slick made the most obscene noises and your insides were warm, and inviting — it was like heaven. Jeong-Hyun surges up onto his elbow whilst he presses into you deeper. You chew on your lip, placing your hands on his shoulder while he mouths at your nipples. 

“Ah, ah, easy, not so rough,” You laugh breathlessly as he slows down his curious thrusting. At least he didn’t have long nails, that would’ve been much more painful. “Curl your finger a bit, take it slow, jagiya” 

Jeong-Hyun takes your nipple between his teeth and does as he’s told. You shiver in his arms, jaw falling open as he presses onto the spongy spot that sends such pleasant sensations up your spine. God, you were a vision. This raw, vulnerable, side of you. No stage light, makeup, or fancy outfits needed — though he still loved seeing you like that. 

An angel just for him. That valley on the mountain. Here it was, on his lap. His paradise. 

Just for him. All of you. Just for him.

You murmur to his temple that he could add another finger and he’s reminded of the fact that others had seen this before. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but he’s not angry at you — why would he be? You were kind and sweet, stubborn, and fearless. Those others, those sly bitches, didn’t deserve you but went ahead and placed their marks on you either way. 

Jeong-Hyun relishes in the noise you make as he pumps into you, leaving open-mouthed kisses on you while he keeps his eyes trained on your face. It didn’t matter how many others had seen you like this, you’re his now. If anyone tried to take you away from him or try to touch him — he’d crush them. He’d kill your past lovers for even mentioning you like this, he wouldn’t feel guilt for it. If they slighted you — if anyone did you wrong he’d rip them apart. Those loan sharks would regret saying those things about you, chasing you down, harassing you and trying to lay their hands on you. 

He’ll cut off their hands for you, their tongues. He’d put them in a box and hand it to you to admire. 

Jeong-Hyun slips another finger inside and you make a pitched moan, sloping your brows in bliss as you praise him in that sultry whispering tone.

He wanted to make you sing. 

The alpha is careful as he pulls out, switching the positions so you’re now on your back and settled in his nest. Right where you belong. Surrounded by plushness and comfort that he can provide for you with that blissed expression. Jeong-Hyun pants, brushing his bangs back while you slither your legs loosely around his hips. 

What better thank you than sex? 

You weren’t that vain to think you were some sort of expert but you were determined to make his first time good. Great even. You grimace for a moment, curling an arm around your stomach as your body reminds you to pick up the pace. Penetration wasn’t a necessity for omegas in heat but rubbing one out always eased the random aches and cramps. Something about hormones or whatever it is that you can’t be bothered to remember at the moment.

Jeong-Hyun’s hands were much better than what you’d imagined. He thumbs at your hard cocklet, rubbing it as he slid his cock up and down between your legs. He’s so good for you. Patient, pliant, so eager for it. 

Your scent sweetens in the air and Jeong-Hyun’s sharp nose catches it instantly. He gives you that look again — those puppy eyes that never fail to make you sway to his whims. But there’s a sharpness to it this time. A raw hunger that glints in his eye like a knife. 

You reach between your legs and stroke his cock, never breaking eye contact as you guide his cockhead to your hole. Condoms, a voice whispers urgently in your mind, you can’t risk doing it raw, you need condoms, it says. 

If you ended up pregnant, money wouldn’t exactly be an issue. Wouldn’t it? Regardless if you want to abort it or keep it. Jeong-Hyun made enough to cover the costs for both — both? Were you entertaining the idea of getting knocked up with a mobster's baby?

Impatience gnaws at you, so you shake your thoughts free of these concerns. That’d be for future you to worry about.

“Push it in,” you whisper to him and Jeong-Hyun, ever so obedient, does as he’s told. 

Taking him in makes your head spin. His girth splits you open with every inch, the pleasurable veins on his dick making you lose your breath as he wraps an arm around your back and just keeps his eyes on you as you arch your back.

“Oh, o-oh fuck, Jeong-Hyun.”

He’s barely halfway in and you’re already clenched up around him like a vice. He hisses, glancing down at where you were connected and he wished he could take a picture of this. Of you taking his dick inside of you. You were opening up to him, squeezing around him like you never wanted to let him go. His omega, his mate, his and only his. 

An itch settles into his gums, Not for violence this time, but instead, for you. It scares him — he doesn’t want to hurt you. But this was different, he didn’t just want, he found himself needing.

That misshapen blob he calls his hopes and dreams now had a shape and it was you. 

You belatedly kissed him back as he carefully pushed more of himself inside, swallowing every gasp and moan as he pushed and pushed and pushed — the pressure makes your toes curl. You grasp onto his back, being mindful of his wounds but Jeong-Hyun bucks his hips and you mewl when you dig your nails into his back. Scar tissue is always more sensitive but Jeong-Hyun finds that pain turning him on more than it hurts because you could never hurt him, not in any way he’d dislike. He groans deeply as he finally sheathes himself fully. 

Holy fuck. 

Jeong-Hyun had never felt something as good as this before. No drug can compare to the feeling of your boypussy wrapped around him, clenching and unclenching as you desperately try to catch your breath. He brushes your bangs back, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he waits for you to tell him to fuck you. He could just do it himself, his instincts were screaming at him to do just that but he’d rather hear you tell him to do it. 

Jeong-Hyun wanted to hear your voice again. To show you how happy he is you trusted him to do this for you. You whimper, fluttering your eyes open to see Jeong-Hyun looking down at you with nothing but pure adoration. 

“Please,” he feels you dig your nails in again.

“Please, fuck me, Jeong-Hyun.”

The alpha — your alpha — complies. He braces himself on his hands and moves his hips. The first thrust has you locking your ankles behind him and he grins loosely at your wanton noises. Every movement he makes is purely for your pleasure. Jeong-Hyun’s cock speared inside of you again and again with quick and deep thrusts at first — as if he was reluctant about pulling out completely. 

But once he got the hang of it, he was merciless. You knew he was strong, you’d seen him slaughter men like they were nothing more than insects, but you still screamed for him as if you were surprised. 

He snapped his hips up into you, moaning and groaning as he paused to grind in. The fullness and friction made you squirm, hands dropping onto the bed to cover your mouth. 

He shakes his head, pausing just so he can tenderly pin your hands next to your head. He threads his fingers through yours and you feel yourself blushing at the gesture. 

“O-okay, okay,” you chuckle out. “M’sorry, you’re just — you’re in so fuckin’ deep, Jeong-Hyun, it feels so good.”

He tosses his head to the side, raising his brows in an ‘oh yeah?’ movement that makes you laugh a little. 

“You’re so big, jagiya. Fuck, you’re making me feel every inch, huh?”

Jeong-Hyun doesn’t refute this statement but he takes the praise in stride. He resumes his movements, his back stinging lightly from your marks and with how you’re gripped onto his hand his hips stutter at the thought of you leaving your nail marks there too. 

Mark him, claw at him, bite him — do anything you wanted as long as it left a mark on him, that was all Jeong-Hyun wanted. To be covered in you, by you, in any way he could think. 

You turn your head, biting down on the pillows beneath you, and Jeong-Hyun zeroes in on your neck. Your scent is strong there and he finally pinpoints why his gums were itching for you — he needed to mark you. Here and now. To claim you as his, to keep scarring your scent gland over and over every time it healed so people would know you were his. 

Ah, he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t take advantage of you while you were in heat, right? 

You’d get mad at him, maybe? 

Or would you be happy? 

It wouldn’t matter much in the end, right? You belonged to him now and forever. 

Jeong-Hyun drops onto his elbows, feeling a tightness in his stomach as he struggles to compose himself. He breathes over your neck, brushing his teeth over your pulse which makes you turn to face him, smoothly hiding your neck from view as you whine.

“Jeong-Hyun, I’m guh-gonna’ — I’m cummin’, shit, I’m cumming”

Another time then. He nods, kissing you once more as he feels his orgasm drawing near. Every thrust is knocking out those whorish noises from you and Jeong-Hyun can’t, won’t, cum if you don’t. He reaches down to rub at your dick and your entire body tenses up, your jaw opening in a silent scream as you clamp down on him like a vice. He growls, feeling your walls spasming around him and shortly after he cums inside of you. 

The warmth that flooded you made your eyes roll back, groaning out his name as you felt him fill you up. Jeong-Hyun has his forehead pressed onto yours, eyes closed as he grunts and bucks his hips.

“Fuh — fuck…fuck” you whisper. Jeong-Hyun catches his bearings but doesn’t pull out. He can’t wait to fuck you when his rut comes, to knot you so his cum wouldn’t leak out of you. You’re limp in his arms when he lifts you to lay on your side, chuckling when you simply curl close to his chest. 

He tucks your head under his chin, rubbing the back of your thighs and ass as you ease back down from that high. You flutter your eyes close, melting under his touch as the raging fire under your skin is temporarily quelled by Jeong-Hyun. 

His arms, his hold really, felt like a protective shield. Nothing could hurt you in this moment, absolutely nothing. If they tried, Jeong-Hyun would deal with them easily enough and that thought no longer scares you. Jeong-Hyun had told you that he’d keep you safe and he’d kept true to his promise. 

You peek your eyes open, staring at the scar on his chest and tracing over it gingerly. 

“I think I love you.”

Jeong-Hyun freezes, his eyes widening before his chest begins to rumble in a soothing purr. You giggle, hiding your face further into his neck but his purrs simply get louder. His reply was clear.

I love you too.

[luvbatsy]

ME 'N THE DEVIL - THE SALESMAN

pairing: salesman x bottom male reader

synopsis: A story of obsession and longing, where one man's desperate need for love traps another in a web of fear, desire, and the haunting promise of safety that feels anything but safe.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, kidnapping, drugging, blood, reader's boyfriend is an abusive bitch, death, dubcon, forced submission, breading, cream pie, dead dove do not eat.

word count: 4.1k

A/N: requested by 🥀 anon (link). i don't think i did enough justice to this amazing prompt sksksjsj

The bar was nearly empty that night—just how you preferred it. The soft hum of the jukebox played a tired old rock ballad, the kind that felt heavy with nostalgia, though you couldn’t place why. The faint clink of glassware punctuated the quiet, as the bartender cleaned glasses with the same rhythmic monotony they’d perfected over years.

You sat hunched over the counter, fingers curling loosely around your glass of whiskey. The amber liquid reflected the dim, golden glow of the bar lights, casting distorted shadows against the wood.

“And then he…” You trailed off, swallowing against the lump rising in your throat. You stared into the glass, as though the answer to your pain might be hiding somewhere in the depths of the drink. “He called me a waste of space.”

The words hung in the air, raw and shameful. Your voice wavered, and you fought the urge to cry.

“Like I don’t already feel like one most days,” you mumbled, your lips pressing into a bitter line.

The bartender paused their wiping to nod, their expression one of quiet sympathy. But the gesture felt empty, rehearsed even. They probably heard stories like yours a hundred times a week—drunken tales of bad lovers, broken hearts, and bruised egos. Still, you pressed on.

“He doesn’t just yell,” you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Sometimes… he hits me. But he always says he’s sorry after, and I…” A hollow, bitter laugh escaped you, cutting through the thick air. “I keep forgiving him. Like a goddamn idiot.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you and the bartender. Their eyes flicked to the clock, their discomfort palpable. You couldn’t blame them. Who wanted to hear a stranger’s misery, especially one they couldn’t fix?

“Sounds like he doesn’t deserve you.”

The voice startled you—smooth, confident, and close enough to make you stiffen. It came from your left.

You turned your head, blinking at the man who had somehow slipped onto the stool beside you without you noticing. He was striking, his sharp features framed by slicked-back hair that glinted faintly under the dim bar lights. His suit was tailored to perfection, charcoal gray with subtle pinstripes that hinted at wealth and precision. But it was his eyes that caught you most. They were piercing, their intensity almost predatory, like they saw right through you.

“Excuse me?” you asked, your surprise laced with suspicion.

The man smiled, and it was the kind of smile that could melt the edges of even the hardest heart. It was warm, practiced, and just shy of charming.

“You deserve better,” he said, his tone soft but sure. “That much is obvious.”

You frowned, instinctively pulling back a little. The comment was unexpected, and you didn’t know how to take it. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet.” He leaned back slightly, casual and self-assured, like he belonged in every space he entered. “But I couldn’t help overhearing. You deserve better than what you’re settling for.”

The directness of his words left you flustered. You hesitated, unsure whether to be defensive or grateful.

“You don’t even know me,” you muttered, a hint of challenge in your tone.

He tilted his head, his gaze never leaving yours. “Don’t need to. Some things are obvious.”

You stared at him for a moment longer, searching for some sign of an ulterior motive. But his face betrayed nothing except an odd mix of calm and curiosity. Finally, you turned back to your drink, muttering under your breath, “Bold of you to assume you know my life.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m wrong,” he countered smoothly.

The corners of your mouth twitched despite yourself.

The next time you saw him, you were back at the bar, nursing yet another drink after another brutal argument with your boyfriend. The whiskey burned less this time, your tolerance rising in step with your misery.

You’d been thinking about the man from the other night more than you cared to admit—his sharp wit, his confidence, the way his presence had made you feel seen in a way that was both comforting and unnerving.

When he appeared again, sliding onto the stool beside you like he belonged there, your heart skipped a beat.

“Rough day?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting, as if you were old friends.

“Something like that,” you muttered, your head low. You didn’t want to spill your heart out again—not tonight.

But he had a way of drawing you out. His questions were easy, his comments sharp but never cutting. Before you knew it, you were talking again—about nothing and everything. About the little annoyances of your day and the bigger cracks threatening to break you apart.

He listened, really listened, and offered thoughts that were insightful without being overbearing. He even made you laugh—a genuine laugh, something you hadn’t done in weeks.

By the time you realized how much time had passed, the bar was closing, and the two of you were walking out together.

The air outside was crisp, carrying the faint smell of rain. He walked you to your car, his presence steady and reassuring beside you.

“You know,” he said as you reached your door, his voice lower now, almost intimate, “you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

You looked at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unrelenting, and for a moment, you felt like he was seeing parts of you you’d tried to hide even from yourself.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, unsure how else to respond.

As you climbed into your car, you caught the way he looked at you through the window—like you were something precious, something he couldn’t quite have but desperately wanted.

The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. And for a fleeting moment, you wondered what it might be like to let him have you.

The man couldn’t get you out of his head. You consumed him, haunted his thoughts, and stirred something primal in him. But there was one obstacle standing in his way: your sorry excuse of a boyfriend.

He watched from the shadows, studying the man who dared to hurt you. The bruises you tried to hide, the way your voice cracked when you spoke of him—it was enough to fuel The man’s resolve.

The next time he saw you at the bar, he smiled warmly and ordered you another drink. You didn’t notice the way his hand lingered over your glass for just a moment too long, or how the edges of your vision began to blur shortly after you finished it.

When you woke, you were in a dark room. The smell of dust and old wood filled your nostrils, and the faint sound of classical music played from a record player in the corner.

Your wrists were tied to the arms of a chair, the rope biting into your skin. Across from you, your boyfriend sat in a similar chair, thrashing and screaming into the gag that muffled his words.

“What the hell—?” you began, your voice trembling.

“Good evening.”

The man stepped into view, his sharp grin cutting through the dim light. He was impeccably dressed, as always, his hands clasped behind his back.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, panic rising in your chest.

“It’s simple,” he said, his tone calm. “You’re going to play a game.”

On the table between you and your boyfriend sat a revolver, its gleaming barrel a stark contrast to the grimy room.

“Russian roulette,” The man explained, picking up the gun and spinning the cylinder with practiced ease. “One of you walks out of here. The other… doesn’t.”

Your boyfriend screamed behind his gag, his eyes wild with terror. You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “No! I won’t do it!”

“Oh, but you will,” The man said, his smile never wavering. “Because you want to live. And deep down, a part of you wants him to pay for what he’s done to you.”

The man placed the revolver on the table, spinning the cylinder with a flick of his wrist. The ominous cl-click of the mechanism echoed in the room, setting your teeth on edge. He looked between you and your boyfriend, his grin widening as if he relished your fear.

“Let’s begin,” he said, picking up the gun. His movements were deliberate, almost casual, as if this were no more than a game of cards.

“You’re not rolling the barrel?” you questioned in shock, staring into his eyes, which seemed devoid of any emotion.

“What’s the fun in that?” he merely grinned, while adjusting his cufflinks.

He pointed the revolver at you first.

Click.

The sound was deafening, despite the empty chamber. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs as you stared down the barrel of the gun.

The man chuckled softly, as if entertained by the way your shoulders heaved with each shaky breath. “Nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

He turned the gun toward your boyfriend.

Click.

Your boyfriend thrashed in his chair, muffled cries spilling through the gag as he shook his head violently. You could feel his terror radiating across the small room, mingling with your own.

“I’d almost feel bad for him if he wasn’t such a waste,” The man mused, spinning the cylinder again with deliberate slowness. The sound of the metal grinding against itself sent a chill through your entire body.

The gun swung back to you.

Click.

You flinched, tears spilling down your cheeks as your vision blurred. Your mind screamed at you to move, to do something, but you were frozen, your body paralyzed by fear.

The man hummed a classical tune softly under his breath, tapping the side of the gun like he was debating his next move. His eyes flicked between you and your boyfriend, finally landing on the latter.

“Let’s see if he’s feeling lucky.”

He raised the gun again, pointing it between your boyfriend’s wide, bloodshot eyes.

Click.

Your boyfriend screamed into the gag, thrashing so violently that the chair scraped against the floor. Sweat dripped down his face as his muffled cries turned into guttural, animalistic wails of desperation.

The man sighed, feigning disappointment. “Oh, the suspense is killing me,” he said, the grin on his face making it clear that he was enjoying every second.

The revolver spun again, slower this time. You heard every metallic grind as it came to a stop, and your stomach lurched.

This time, the barrel swung back to you. The man pressed the gun against your cheek, the cold metal biting into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re terrified,” he whispered, his voice low and intimate, like a lover’s confession.

Click.

You gasped audibly, your eyes darting to his. He stared back at you with a manic glint, his grin splitting wider as though your anguish was his favorite song.

Without warning, he turned the gun back to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend screamed, shaking his head violently, tears streaming down his face. He made a muffled plea through the gag, words you couldn’t make out but understood well enough: he was begging.

The man tilted his head, feigning consideration. “I wonder what your last thought is right now. Regret? Fear? Or maybe it’s anger… at yourself for being such a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

He pulled the trigger.

BANG!

The sound of the gunshot ripped through the room, leaving your ears ringing. Blood sprayed across the table and onto your face in hot, sticky droplets. Your boyfriend’s head snapped back violently before slumping forward, the rope keeping his body upright as blood poured from the jagged hole in his forehead. His body twitched once, then fell still.

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the acrid smell of gunpowder, burning into your nostrils. Your stomach churned as you stared at the lifeless shell of the man who had once called you his.

You should’ve felt horror, revulsion, or even guilt. But somewhere deep down, a small, twisted part of you felt… relief. Relief that it was finally over, that he couldn’t hurt you anymore.

The man stepped closer, crouching in front of you and gently brushing a blood-spattered lock of hair from your face. His touch was uncomfortably tender, a stark contrast to the carnage around you.

“You’re free now,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You stared at him in shock, your mind a haze of terror and conflicting emotions.

Before you could process what had happened, darkness crept in once more.

When you woke, it was to the dim light of dawn filtering through your curtains, casting soft, golden rays across your room. Everything felt disjointed—your body ached in places you couldn’t explain, and your mind was swimming in a haze of fragmented memories. For a few blissful seconds, you thought it was just a nightmare, a grotesque figment of your imagination brought on by too much alcohol and too little sleep.

But then you noticed the faint metallic scent still lingering in the air.

Sitting up, you looked down at yourself. Your clothes were rumpled and clung uncomfortably to your skin, but it was the faint smudge of red near your collar that made your stomach drop. You didn’t want to believe it. You stumbled to your feet, each step heavy with dread as you made your way to the laundry hamper.

And there it was—a bloodstained shirt.

The sight hit you like a punch to the gut, your breath hitching as the reality of it all came crashing down. It wasn’t a nightmare. It had happened. The screaming, the gunshots, the blood—it was all real.

You threw the shirt into the deepest corner of the hamper and slammed the lid shut, as though that could contain the memories clawing their way to the surface.

For days, you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t function. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw flashes of it: his twisted grin, the spray of blood, your boyfriend’s lifeless body slumping forward. Guilt and relief warred within you, an impossible combination that left you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, you realized you had to do something. You couldn’t keep drowning in your own mind. So, you decided to rebuild.

You poured what little savings you had into opening a small bakery, a cozy place tucked into a quiet corner of town. It became your sanctuary, a space where you could channel your pain into something productive. Kneading dough, shaping pastries, and watching loaves rise in the oven—it was simple, grounding work that gave you a sense of control when everything else felt so chaotic.

The bakery quickly became a modest success. Locals loved the fresh bread and the warm, inviting atmosphere you worked so hard to create. For a while, you almost believed you could have a normal life again.

But then he walked in.

It was an ordinary afternoon. The scent of freshly baked sourdough filled the air, and sunlight streamed through the shop’s front windows, casting a warm glow across the wooden countertops. You were arranging a tray of croissants when the bell above the door jingled.

Looking up, your heart stopped.

There he was, standing in the doorway as if he belonged there, his sharp features and piercing eyes unmistakable. He was dressed as impeccably as ever, his suit perfectly tailored and his smile disarmingly casual.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” he said, approaching the counter with an air of ease that made your skin crawl.

Your hands trembled as you wiped them on your apron, trying to steady yourself. “What… what are you doing here?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away, instead glancing around the shop with an almost appreciative expression. “Just passing through,” he said finally, as if that explained anything. He slid a few bills across the counter. “A few loaves of sourdough.”

Your fingers fumbled as you grabbed some fresh loaves and wrapped them in parchment paper, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest you were sure he could hear it. You avoided his gaze, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move.

When you handed him the loaf, your hands brushed for the briefest moment, and you pulled back like you’d been burned. His smile widened, his eyes glinting with something dark and unreadable.

“Thanks,” he said, his tone light and polite, as though this were just a normal interaction.

He turned and walked out without another word, the bell jingling softly in his wake.

As you closed shop for the evening, flipping the "OPEN" sign to "CLOSED," a deep sigh escaped your lips, the weight of the day melting off your shoulders. It had been one of those relentlessly busy days where time blurred—an endless parade of smiling customers asking for pastries, loaves, and the occasional custom order that had you juggling more than your two hands should allow. The familiar ache in your back and flour dusting your sleeves were reminders of how hard you’d worked. But as the quiet settled in, so did a sense of peace.

For once, your mind wasn’t completely consumed by thoughts of him. It was a rare reprieve, the memories and fears receding like the tide, leaving you with something close to calm. You held onto that feeling tightly, as though letting it slip away might invite the darkness back.

After locking the door and slipping the keys into your pocket, you stood on the sidewalk for a moment, staring at the fading sunlight painting the horizon in soft hues of orange and pink. The thought of going straight home to your empty apartment felt suffocating—too quiet, too lonely, too much room for your thoughts to spiral.

A gentle breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the faint scent of grass and distant flowers, and an idea bloomed in your mind. The park. It had been weeks since you’d allowed yourself the luxury of just… being. You needed the fresh air, the open space, the sounds of the world moving on around you. Maybe, just for a little while, you could convince yourself that everything was normal.

And then you saw him.

He stood on the sidewalk, holding the bread that he had bought from you for a moment before deliberately letting them fall to the ground. Then, with calculated cruelty, he ground it under his heel, the parchment paper tearing and the loaves crumbling into pieces. A group of homeless people nearby looked on, their gazes hungry and desperate, but he didn’t so much as glance at them.

Instead, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

That grin spread across his face again, wide and manic, his teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun. It wasn’t a smile of kindness or humor—it was a promise. A reminder.

Your stomach twisted, and you stumbled back, your breathing ragged. He knew exactly what he was doing, and the message was clear: you weren’t free of him.

Not yet.

That night, you awoke with a start, your senses assaulted by the soft, flickering glow of candlelight. Shadows danced along the walls, their movements hypnotic and eerie, the faint scent of wax and smoke filling the air. Your heart pounded as you realized you weren’t in your bed. The room was unfamiliar—opulent, in a hauntingly old-fashioned way. The furniture was dark wood, the drapes heavy and velvet, the atmosphere suffocatingly intimate.

And then you saw him.

He was standing over you, his silhouette bathed in the golden light of the candles. His suit was pristine as always, his tie slightly loosened, and his sharp features softened just enough to be disarming. But it was his eyes that held you captive, their intensity pinning you in place like prey caught in a predator’s gaze.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and velvety, carrying a dangerous edge of satisfaction. He crouched beside the bed, his movements deliberate and smooth, his presence overwhelming. “Good. I was starting to think you’d sleep through the best part.”

Your breath hitched as his hand came up to your face, his fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that felt utterly at odds with the situation. His touch was cold, yet it left a trail of fire in its wake, and you couldn’t help but flinch.

“You can’t run from me,” he murmured, his tone soft but laced with an unyielding certainty. “I’ve been patient. I’ve given you space. But you belong to me, and it’s time you understood that.”

Tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. You hated how vulnerable you felt, how powerless you were under his gaze. His thumb brushed a tear away, his touch almost reverent, and he smiled—a soft, bittersweet smile that only made you feel more trapped.

“I adore you,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Every moment, every thought, it’s all been for you. Don’t you see? I’ve done everything for you. And now, you’re mine.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could process what was happening, his lips were on yours. The kiss was messy, desperate, and all-consuming, like he was trying to claim every part of you at once. His hands cradled your face, his grip firm but not painful, as if he were afraid you might disappear if he let go.

You hated yourself for it, but you kissed him back. Your body betrayed you, a spark igniting deep within you that you couldn’t extinguish. His passion was intoxicating, pulling you under like a riptide, and for a moment, you forgot everything else—your fear, your anger, your confusion.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was hot against your skin, his forehead resting against yours. “You’ll be safe with me,” he murmured, his voice heavy with conviction. “Forever.”

His words sent a chill through you, not because you doubted him, but because you believed him. There was no escaping him—not his obsession, not his control, not the twisted connection that bound you to him.

Deep down, in the parts of yourself you didn’t want to acknowledge, you knew he was right.

His hands slowly trailed down to the hem of your pants, tugging them off. The cool breeze hit your thighs, forming goosebumps along the soft skin– making you shiver with a mix of delight and fear.

He pressed forehead, slowly inching down to your lips, pulling you in once more, as he lifted you in his arms completely.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he cooed whilst sliding your boxers down, revealing your throbbing erection.

You whimpered at the praise as he brought his hand to your chin to make you face him. His eyes– which previously felt devoid of having any human emotion, were now different. You couldn’t place exactly what it was.

As he pulled you into another searing kiss, one of his fingers prodded at your exposed hole, wet with lube. You yelped at the sudden intrusion, only to be silenced with another kiss.

He slowly pushed his finger in, followed by another, and then another. Three digits were slowly pumping in and out of you, as you held on to the man’s already crumpled shirt for some sense of balance.

When he deemed that you had been prepped enough, he slowly removed his fingers, and replaced them with his hardened length (you hadn't noticed him taking his pants off–oh well).

He pushed the tip in, making you throw your head back, and an almost pornographic moan leaving your lips.

The man let out a low groan,you were so tight that it seemed like your hole was sucking him in. When he bottomed out, you took few deeps breaths, but before you could say anything, he pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in.

Your eyes went to the back of your head, jaw going slack. His hands were holding your legs up in such an angle that he was hitting your prostate with every single thrust.

Your hole clenched around his length, almost making it hard for him to move– but he seemed to manage. He fucked into with reckless abandon, marvelling at your pretty sounds– they were angelic to his ears.

Soon, you felt your orgasm consuming you like a raging waterfall; but the man wasn’t finished. He rammed into you even harder than before, the overstimulation making your brain go fuzzy.

Eventually, his thrusts stuttered, and he spilled his load into you– painting your insides a pearlescent white.

You huffed, feeling filled to the brim as he slowly placed you back onto the bed. The exhaustion made sleep consume you once more.

“You’re mine now, little dove– and I’m never letting you go.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[luvbatsy]

TENSION - THANOS & MYUNG-GI

pairing: thanos x male!reader x myunggi

synopsis: Two enemies walk into a bathroom to fight, but end up leaving as flustered teammates—with you as the surprising middle ground.

content warnings: 18+, bottom reader, top myung-gi and thanos, blowjobs, bathroom sex, threesome, exhibitionism, dacryphillia, fingering (reader receiving), anal, rimming, reader is taken from both ends.

word count: 1.1k

A/N: link to the request

The bathroom reeked of mildew, the dim lighting doing little to soften the jagged edges of tension cutting through the air. Myung-gi was pressed up against the cracked sink, his wiry frame taut like a spring ready to snap. Thanos loomed over him, his jaw set and fists clenched, a storm brewing in his dark eyes.

“Keep running your mouth, and see what happens,” Myung-gi spat, his voice low but sharp enough to cut.

Thanos tilted his head slightly, a small, dangerous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You think you’re tough, huh? All bark, no bite. You’d fold the second someone pushed back.”

“Try me.”

You stepped in before things spiraled out of control. “Alright, enough,” you said sharply, shoving yourself between them. Your hands pressed against their chests to create some space, though you felt the coiled tension in their bodies beneath your palms. “You really want to do this? Because if the guards hear so much as a peep, neither of you is walking out of here.”

Thanos’s gaze flicked to you, his intense glare softening just enough to let you know he wasn’t about to flatten you. Myung-gi, on the other hand, was still bristling, his breaths coming fast and shallow.

“Why do you even care?” Myung-gi snapped. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“Because you’re both being idiots,” you replied, keeping your voice steady despite the pounding in your chest. “You’re acting like this is going to solve anything, and it’s not. You’re just making everything worse for yourselves.”

There was a pause—a charged silence where the three of you stood frozen, the only sound the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Myung-gi glanced at Thanos, then back at you, something unreadable flashing across his face.

“Maybe we just need to... let off some steam,” Myung-gi muttered, almost too quietly to hear.

Thanos raised an eyebrow, the tension in his posture shifting into something else entirely. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and unrelenting. “He’s not wrong,” Thanos said, his voice dropping an octave.

Your heart skipped a beat as their gazes bore into you, the weight of their combined attention making your breath hitch.

“Wait, what are you—”

“C’mon,” Myung-gi said, a faint smirk creeping onto his lips. “You’re always stepping in, trying to fix everything. Let us handle this... our way.”

Before you could protest, Myung-gi’s hand curled around your wrist, pulling you closer. His other hand cupped your jaw as he leaned in, his lips crashing against yours with a force that made your knees buckle. The kiss was hungry, desperate, as if he were pouring all of his pent-up frustration into it.

A low hum of approval came from Thanos, who stepped in behind you. His hands gripped your shoulders, grounding you as Myung-gi’s lips moved against yours, his kiss messy and demanding. Thanos leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Don’t forget about me,” he murmured, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

He tilted your head gently, his lips finding yours with a surprising tenderness that contrasted Myung-gi’s fervor. The two of them alternated, their touches and kisses a chaotic, intoxicating mix of need and heat. Myung-gi’s hands roamed your sides, pulling you closer, while Thanos’s fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your movements with deliberate ease.

The stall felt impossibly small, their bodies pressing against yours from both sides. The tension that had filled the room earlier dissolved, replaced by something electric and undeniable.

“We have to be quick, the guards might show up at any moment”, Myung-gi whispered, alerting you.Thanos seemed relaxed, as he slowly pulled your track pants and boxers down to reveal your erection. 

He held your chin and tilted it towards him for a kiss, while Myung-gi slowly lifted you up and onto his lap entirely. His fingers circle the rim of your hole, feeling the tight ring of muscle puckering and clenching around nothing. His breath hitches as his fingers pushed past the ring of muscle and into your ass. He could hear you moaning and whimpering from the sudden intrusion.

 Thanos took the opportunity to turn you around so that your stomach was facing the ground, and you were looking up at him, all doe-eyed.

“Stay still, pretty boy, " he commanded, before pulling down his pants, revealing his leaking cock. You understood, and began to suckle on the angry tip, giving it kitty licks before taking it down your throat. Thanos let out a breathy moan, and held onto your hair, tilting your head in such a way that his length hit the back of your throat at every thrust.

At your other end, Myung-gi felt that he had prepped you enough, so he stood up and removed his aching cock from its confinements. A glob of his spit fell right on your asshole, making you whimper around Thanos’s cock at the cod sensation, only turning him on even more.

Myung-gi slowly pushed his tip inside, which caused your eyes to roll back with pleasure. Thanos, seeing this, got turned on even more and his thrusts became more vigorous.

“Fuck—so tight; Junhee was never like this when we were together…God–” You mumbled around Thanos’s cock, while the man was babbling nonsense (partially out of all the pills he had consumed.

“Shit– never expected to get into an orgy in this shithole.” You moaned around his dick, and the vibrations around it caused Thanos to come undone in your mouth without warning.

“Take it all– my boy,” he exclaimed, looking at your fucked out face as Myung-gi was still taking you from behind. Myung-gi’s thrusting was getting sloppier, and as soon as you came, so did he, pulling out at the last second before painting your ass a pearly white.

They both hesitated for a moment, before pulling out of you from either end. You whined at the emptiness, before Myung-gi took your discarded track pants to wipe off his load from your ass, before handing the cloth back to you to wear.

Ew.

When the three of you finally emerged, the dim bathroom light made the disheveled state of your clothes all the more obvious. Myung-gi looked smug, his shirt untucked and his hair a mess. Thanos, ever the stoic, adjusted his collar as if nothing had happened, though the faintest smirk tugged at his lips.

The few players lingering outside stared, their expressions a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

“Mind your business,” Myung-gi snapped, pushing past them with a swagger in his step.

Thanos said nothing, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, dark and unreadable, before he followed Myung-gi out.

You stood there for a second, catching your breath and trying to process what had just happened. Whatever it was, you knew one thing for certain—it wasn’t something you’d soon forget.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[luvbatsy]

. . . I THINK I’M LIKING HIM MORE, HE DOES THE THINGS I NEVER ASK FOR

⌗ PAIRING: shuntarō chishiya x male! reader

⌗ SUMMARY: chishiya, the cold-hearted and reckless troublemaker of the school has seemingly had his eyes stuck on a certain nerdy boy that always carelessly walks around his area of the place.

⌗ THIS WORK INCLUDES . . . lowercase intended, third person pov, no borderlands au, high school au, fluff, tiny bit of angst, short fic, delinquent! chishiya, nerd! reader, reader kinda has a nonchalant personality, secret relationship, mentions of bullying, fighting, mentions of harassment, chishiya being protective over reader, unintentional slight yandere! chishiya, kinda obsessed chishiya, stalking, reader is the same height as chishiya, hopelessly in love chishiya, reader likes what he’s doing, i wrote chishiya to have the same appearance as nijirô’s character in tokyo revengers “kazutora hanemiya,” includes some inaccurate stuff about japanese schools, a little inspired by yandere simulator, possible grammar and wording mistakes ❨ not proof read ❩

⌗ EXTRA NOTES: this came to me when i saw an edit of nijirô in the tokyo revengers movie soo shoutout to the person who made that i guess😀😀

⸺ A CALMING SCHOOL BELL echoed loudly around the building, multiple students taking the things from their desks and rushing out of the doors desperate to go home. chishiya stood flat against one of the walls, ignoring the people taking cautious steps near him. the feared delinquent of the school is the reputation he’s made for himself here.

starting fights with random students that would ever accidentally brush against him in the hallways resulting in said students having their faces be beaten and disfigured to the point of no return. forcing people against their will to participate in fight clubs and make bets on their failures, making some of his friends do his dirty work whenever he wasn’t in the mood to handle something, never batting an eye whenever girls got harassed by his friends. the man showed no remorse for his actions, his face always set into a poker expression as a tiny kitten smile grazed his lips. he only hung around a few people, the rest of his “gang” and a girl named hikari kuina, one of the gyarus at this school.

chishiya kept his head low as his bangs covered the top of his eyes, searching for a specific pair of shoes that would walk past him. his eyes shined as he found them, straightening his posture as he trailed behind the person he was waiting for, (name). this man was special to him, he felt a sense of priority in protecting him. (name) was a nerd, always getting good grades and getting scored at the top of his classes, he was the perfect punching bag for someone like chishiya. but thats not what he wanted from him, no. (name) was the only person that didn’t fear him at every waking moment, he didn’t care if chishiya or his friends were some big bad entity, he treated them like they were just regular students at this school because… they were!

and thats what chishiya favored about him. the boy served zero interest in getting involved with him, he didn’t care if he walked through the hallways of his unassigned part of the school, the part where all the delinquents would hangout. the part which was also coincidentally where a shortcut was made to cut through the rest of the school and get to classes faster.

chishiya sat with his legs crossed ontop of a heater box, he picked at his nails as his ears gathered up the sounds of two boys getting beaten by some of the people in his group. pleads were heard as he raised his hand to scratch at his scalp, dark hair getting twisted up as he thread his hands through it. the lunch bell rang, he saw students from across getting out of their classes and walking towards the cafeteria, all of them avoiding his hallway. him seeing some people hurriedly grab their friends as they made sudden mistakes of taking a few steps at the end of it.

this was a regular occurrence, him observing people as they sent him fearful stares and instinctively quivering in their shoes this worsening especially when he planted himself in different areas of the school. developing fears of any of the places that he’d be able to hide in. corners, closets, corridors, classrooms, the garden or swimming pool that were placed behind the school, anything. sudden gasps and whispers of different students filled his eardrums as he turned his neck to glance at what was happening, a figure was coming his way.

a boy with glasses and a resting bitch face trudged through like a model, his unbothered body language shined through him like a flashlight. chishiya examined him throughly, he was about the same height as him, white shirt unbuttoned slightly and exposing the tank top underneath it, his uniform blazer was held in his arms like a coat hanger as he adjusted the bag with multiple keychains on his shoulder. a lavender aroma hit his nostrils like a grenade, the scent calming down any type of tension that was set in his body.

chishiya watched as he stepped over the bodies of the boys on the floor, them and their bullies stared at him in confusion as he continued to walk away, not sparing any glances at anyone that hung around the rest of the corridor. chishiya quirked his eyebrow as one of his friends looked at him, looking for any signals in his face to go after the guy. he shook his head as he got down from where he was sitting sticking his hands in the pockets of his pants as his eyes glued onto figure before glancing away as he rounded a corner, leaving his imprint on everyone’s gaze.

ever since that encounter chishiya became more excited on the inside as he waited for the man’s presence to pass by him in the halls. he found out his name was (name) when he “decided” to attend one of the schools assemblies. of course, like always, (name) was there too as he walked up to the stage with someone that was apart of the staff announcing an award for him. chishiya observed him throughout everything, walking into school, going to class, eating lunch, passing through the building, looking at him through the windows of his classroom while he was sat near the wall and squatting down whenever (name) felt his cat-like eyes on him, even following him home to ensure his safety and just his safety (definitely not because he wants to know where the person he loves lives and watch over him incase something happened to him.)

“how long are you gonna keep following me for?”

chishiya stepped out of his dazed mind, blinking slowly as he saw (name) with his body turnt towards him hands on his bag and glasses rested ontop of his head, “follow?” chishiya repeated, pushing his lips out as he thought of a lie to say, “i’m just trying to go home like everyone else,” (name) raised one of his brows, did he think he was that stupid? acting like he didn’t know about the shadow that chishiya always left on the places he visited. the figure he always noticed standing outside of his window at night that had the same similarities of his silhouette. the way chishiya prevented his friends from causing harm to him, threatening them if they ever had thoughts of trying to do what they regularly did to other nerds in the school.

all the jealous stares that chishiya sent his way whenever (name) held the quivering hands of his friends as he guided them through the passageway, wishing that was him in their place and not them. he didn’t wanna admit it but chishiya’s actions made his heart flutter a bit, (name) wasn’t liked throughout the school, especially with how “perfect” his image was. people attempting to use his intelligence in ways to benefit themselves, sending scowls his direction and spouting insults at him accusing him of sleeping with his homeroom teachers and the principal to get where he was now.

his careless attitude kept all of this from straining his heart, continuing to do what he did best and enjoying all the praise adults sent his way. (name)’s always been advised in avoiding the delinquents or anyone that could tarnish his reputation and strain him from his academics, but how could he do that when chishiya was just so cute?

him and his sharp cat features, the dyed black and dirty white hair that suited his skin tone so well, his dark tattoo that covered the side of his neck and the tough exterior that prevented him from showing others what he was really feeling at times. (name) knew there was more to chishiya then how he made himself to be, a kinder and sweeter boy that cared more about the lives of others and his own ideals.

(name) hummed as he kicked a fake rock away from his shoes, “that’s what you said yesterday,” he said stepping closer to chishiya as he spoke, “and the day before that and then the day before that one and the week before that,” (name) brought his hands up to hold the sides of chishiya’s face as he saw his lip corners curving upwards, “how long are we gonna have to keep this up for?”

the air shifted as the two sought comfort in each other’s eyes, chishiya leaning one of the sides of his face into (name)’s gentle warm palm, “until we get out of here,” he sorely replied watching as (name) exhaled through his nose and shifted his gaze to the floor beneath them, “it’s our last year here, only a few more months and we’re gone,” chishiya said bringing up his hand to cup one of (name)’s as he nodded.

(name) leaned forward to press a small kiss onto the man’s pink lips, redirecting his right hand to play with the dangly earring on chishiya’s earlobe as his saddened expression made itself more visible the moment he spoke up, “just, don’t keep me locked in your heart until then…” he mumbled tearing away from his lover trying to ignore the way chishiya frowned as his body spun away from him, only leaving chishiya to stand in the darkened light of the place as his face tried desperately to cling onto the feeling of where (name) had left his touch.

[luvbatsy]

LOYALTY - INHO & GIHUN

pairing: inho x male reader (x gihun)

synopsis: a sequel to this fic.

content warnings: 18+, dubcon (almost non-con), kidnapping, drugging via gas, anal fingering, vouyerism, semi public sex

word count: 1k

A/N: taglist- @thatonerylan @ayieayee

A sharp chemical sting filled your nose as you groaned awake, your head pounding like it had been cracked against the marble dining table. The last thing you remembered was the... exchange between you and Gi-hun—words of resolution and defiance as the two of you made an unspoken pact to forfeit the games. The gas came swiftly, robbing you of breath before the world went dark.

Now, as your eyes adjusted to the dim, shadowy room, a sense of unease settled in your chest. You sat up slowly, taking in your surroundings. The walls were dark gray, lined with shelves of monitors displaying grainy, disjointed feeds from what looked like different areas of the games. A single chair sat in the middle of the room, facing a vast wall of screens.

“Where…?” you muttered, turning your head to see Gi-hun slumped on the floor nearby, still unconscious. Relief washed over you for a moment—he was alive.

“You’re awake,” a voice cut through the silence like a blade.

You whipped your head toward the source, your breath catching as the figure stepped forward from the shadows. The Front Man. His imposing frame was clad in that familiar black outfit, the gleaming, angular mask covering his face. He exuded an aura of authority and danger, and something about the way he moved felt predatory.

“Where are we?” you demanded, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart.

The Front Man ignored your question, his gloved hands clasped behind his back as he circled you slowly, like a lion sizing up its prey. “You and Gi-hun,” he began, his voice smooth and low, “are quite the anomaly. Defiance. Unity. It’s rare to see such traits here. Even rarer to see them... together.”

You clenched your fists, your muscles tense. “What are you talking about?”

He stopped in front of you, tilting his head slightly. Though his mask betrayed no expression, you felt the weight of his gaze. “Let’s just say,” he said, his voice dipping, “that you’ve caught my attention.”

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, the air between you thickening with an almost suffocating intensity. His gloved hand reached out, and you flinched as his fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his masked visage.

“Both of you have,” he continued, his voice almost a purr now. “But you... you’ve intrigued me most.”

His touch lingered for a moment before he withdrew his hand, pacing slowly. “The games are about control, about survival. And yet, you’ve managed to disrupt that balance. How fascinating.”

“Let us go,” you snapped, your voice firm despite the heat creeping up your neck.

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, it’s far too late for that.”

You glanced at Gi-hun, still unmoving, and your chest tightened. When you turned back to the Front Man, he was closer now, towering over you. “You see,” he murmured, his voice dripping with something unspoken, “I’ve developed a... personal interest in my players. Especially the ones who stand out.”

Before you could react, his gloved hand cupped your face, pulling you to your feet. His grip was firm but not painful, his movements deliberate. The mask tilted slightly, and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was overwhelming, a clash of dominance and desperation. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that stole your breath, his gloved hand gripping the back of your neck to hold you in place. It was sloppy, intense, his tongue brushing against yours with a need that bordered on feral.

You pushed against his chest, but he didn’t relent. Instead, he pulled you closer, his other hand finding your waist. The kiss deepened, his breath hot and heavy as he devoured every inch of your mouth. The cold leather of his gloves contrasted with the heat radiating from his body, sending shivers down your spine.

A groan escaped him, muffled against your lips, and the sound ignited something deep inside you—an undeniable mix of fear and thrill. His lips trailed briefly to your jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before returning to your mouth.

His hand inched down to your pants, pushing them off with one firm tug. You squeaked at the cool air hitting your thighs, a wet spot staining your boxers.

The man looks at it and smirks. “So you do want this…hm?” He whispers before he slides a hand down your boxers, discarding them along with your pants.

The cool air does a number on your length, raising it erect. Your mind thinks of one thing, your body reacts differently. 

“Such a pretty little thing f’me,” he cooes before spreading your legs wide open, the air hitting your now exposed hole.

You shudder when he suddenly prods a lubed digit at your hole, testing the waters. With you physically being unable to respond, he slowly slides the finger in, eliciting a loud moan from you. He slowly adds a second, and then a third finger, pumping them in and out of your clenching hole.

Your dick twitches, untouched, so the man uses his other hand to slowly jerk you off, the speed at a vast difference to what he was doing to your hole.

As you feel your orgasm wash over you like a waterfall, your eyes roll to the back of your head, an almost pornographic moan leaving your lips. 

“W-what the hell...” a groggy voice cut through the haze.

You both froze, your breath coming in heavy pants as you turned to see Gi-hun stirring on the floor, his eyes squinting against the dim light. He blinked slowly, his expression shifting from confusion to shock as he took in the scene before him.

“What... are you doing to him?” Gi-hun rasped, his voice laced with anger and disbelief.

The Front Man straightened, his digits still buried inside your ass, his posture unbothered. “Ah, Gi-hun,” he said smoothly, turning to face him. “You’re just in time.”

Gi-hun struggled to sit up, his eyes narrowing as they flickered between you and the Front Man. “Leave him alone,” he growled, his voice gaining strength.

The Front Man chuckled, his hand squeezing your cock. “Oh, but he doesn’t seem to mind,” he said, his tone mocking. “Do you?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but words failed you, your mind reeling from the overstimulation.

“Let’s see how far your loyalty truly goes,” the Front Man said, his voice dripping with malice.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[luvbatsy]

. . . OH BABY, JUST LEAVE THE SCENT OF YOUR COLOGNE

⌗ PAIRING: ryōhei arisu x male! reader

⌗ SUMMARY: arisu wasn’t the biggest fan of committing to relationships. whenever he wanted a good fuck, he’d just pick up the nearest pretty girl and then ghost her once he got what he wanted. this gave him an unlikable reputation at his college, along with the popularity of his pretentious family. he’d never thought this would be something he’d ever wanna change about himself, until one night he was forced to go to a college event where he saw the prettiest “girl” he’s ever seen. but what will this change for him once he finds out the supposed girl of his dreams isn’t what she makes herself out to be?

⌗ THIS WORK INCLUDES . . . lowercase intended, third person pov, no borderlands au, college au, fluff, slight crack, slightly long fic, feminine reader, cross dressing reader, arisu mistakes reader for a girl, she/her and he/him pronouns used for reader, mentions of playboy arisu or is it fuckboy idk, rich kid arisu, bisexual arisu, musician! reader, readers in a band, found family, love at first sight trope, mentions of suggestive content, cursing, smoking, reader is mentioned to have long hair (no worries it’s a wig), strangers to lovers trope, arisu having a tiny ego, nobodies the biggest fan of arisu or his family, lonely arisu, mentions of arisu’s daddy issues, talks of abuse, slight mentions of groping (NOT by arisu), i don’t know anything about college so i apologize if anything i wrote is inaccurate, possible grammar and wording mistakes ❨ not proof read ❩

⌗ EXTRA NOTES: *throws this at your face and sprints off*

⸺ ARISU SQUINTED HIS EYES at the giant billboard sign that was plastered in front of the buildings center. “borderlands” was shining brightly in the cascade of the dark, multiple college students were lined up outside, eager to get in. they were at a goddamn concert venue, “why are we even here?” arisu mumbled focusing his attention to his friends that were beside him, karube and chōta sent glares at his question.

“ ‘because you need more social interaction?” karube said raising one of his eyebrows, “y’know we can’t be the only people you talk to right?” arisu scoffed lowering his head into his hands as he pouted, “you sound like my dad.” he grumbled, unbuckling his seatbeat as he stepped out of the limo. attention was turned to him, his side-parted slicked back hair and cheetah print coat that covered his entirely black outfit made him stick out like a sore thumb.

everyone was dressed in casual and comfortable clothing while he was dressed like he was going to a club or something. chatter started to rumble as karube and chōta stepped out alongside him, girls whispering to each other as they thirsted over arisu, guys attempting to prevent their girlfriends from looking at him slightly jealous at his appearance. “do you always have to be so extra?” chōta asked as he lead the two inside, waving to anyone that he recognized.

“i’m not being extra,” arisu said as he itched his nose, ignoring all the death stares people were sending his way, “i’m just letting my presence be known,” he stuck his hands into his pockets as he examined everyone in the hallways, noticing familiar faces he wouldn’t have expected to see at this kinda place.

shuntarō chishiya and hikari kuina, the two friends that were always attached to each other. one of them was a quiet but cunning inventor always keeping his head stuck in his hoodie as his hands were hidden away in his pockets never once seeing the light of day while the other was a strong martial artist that constantly gossiped about others to the man with dyed hair, she was also an ex-smoker. this being known as a fake cigar would always be seen hanging from her mouth.

rizuna ann and kōdai tatta. ann was a smart but reclusive woman, always standing in random places as her sunglasses were glued to her face. whether it be inside or outside, she never took them off for anything, her arms were always crossed to her chest with a stoic face. constantly walking around in monochrome clothing, the only color was on her lips, the red lipstick she always wore shined brightly. tatta was a part time mechanic, always getting giddy whenever he saw a car he liked, confident in telling people about his interests even when he always got hated on by the people he worked with. rumor has it he injured one of his coworkers all because he zoned out at the wrong time.

hell, even suguru niragi was here. the campus’ self centered asshole, he made arisu seem like an angel compared to him (if you ignore how big his body count was and all the blocked contacts that were on his phone). constantly harassing the people around him as he stuck his pierced tongue out to mock people. he always hung around a weird bald man with blue tattoos that covered his body from head to toe, literally. he didn’t know the guys name, he didn’t even know if the guy did have a name. always staring off into space as he ruined his posture by tilting over all the time, what a weirdo.

he cringed as his eyes met up with some of his past flings. quickly covering his side profile with his hands as he rushed by multiple women, they noticed him, obviously. it was hard not to when he was the son of a famous businessman that ruined peoples lives all over tokyo at every hour. “we told you to stop doing your little ‘hobby,’ “ karube said pushing arisu’s shoulder, “you’re making people hate you even more than they already should.”

karube was right, but he didn’t wanna acknowledge it. arisu was constantly fucking woman left and right not letting anyone’s bodies go untouched by him (with consent of course, he knows when to back off when he should). but it wasn’t his fault, really, it wasn’t. he didn’t like spending nights alone, he was a grown man for fucks sake, he shouldn’t be afraid of not having someone share the bed with him. he grew out of that the moment he hit middle school, or… so he tells himself. his father groomed him and his brother into being the perfect men, the perfect sons. his sons who will one day take over his money hungry company.

ever since the death of his mother, his father treated him and his brother less and less like people and more like video game characters. molding their appearances into how he wanted them to look, shaping their personalities into being just like him. telling the two to find a good wife so he’ll have grandchildren that will run his office once they retired. this lead him to being afraid of committing to someone, actually falling in love with someone. this was the only thing in his life he could control even if it wasn’t the healthiest method of being freed from his fathers grip,

‘such, bullshit’ arisu thought as he got reminded of this, combing his fingers through his hair. the three stepped into an auditorium, the entire place was filled with people and noise. not a single conversation could be held with how loud it was, it was already starting to annoy arisu and his ears. the trio were seated in the front row, arisu in the middle while karube and chōta sat by his sides, he sighed to himself, ‘this was going to be a long night, wasn’t it?.’

———

arisu shifted in his seat, two hours have gone by and the place was just now letting the opening band up. the stage was decorated with different instruments, a drumset sat in the center back, two guitars and a bass were to the right sitting next to eachother, and lastly there stood the microphone that was infront.

the crowd started to cheer as the band members came out. a girl came out first, waving to everyone as she shined a bright smile. she had brown hair and blonde hair streaks, she was dressed in a boring outfit. a brown jacket placed over a green shirt with light blue jeans and brown and white shoes, very… earthy? next came out a guy with black hair that was styled into a wolfcut, he was dressed in a white tank top and black pants as a chain hung from his belt loop. he had cloth wrapped around his wrists, a pierced lip along with a pierced eyebrow, and sunglasses that shaded his eyes as he walked towards the drums, his body language was very loose and unbothered.

then came another girl, she was just like the guy with carefree body language and sunglasses as she twirled her dark hair that was styled into low pigtails. a beanie covered the top of her head, she wore a long sleeved dark blue shirt that had a black star patched into the middle, her baggy sweatpants were very loose as the ends covered her shoes, one wrong move and she could trip all over herself. finally the last member came out, the lead singer of the group.

arisu sat up as he saw “her.” she was dressed in a black halter-neck shirt with gray jeans that slightly flared at her ankles and black shoes. what caught his eye was her hair, the blonde shoulder length that framed her face and bangs that covered her eyebrows (it was obviously a wig when looked more up close but arisu didn’t need to know that.) his eyes glimmered as he stared at her, breath catching itself in his throat as she welcomed the audience, her voice was calming, he felt himself get addicted to how she pronounced words. “she” was beautiful, he wanted this woman in his life, he needed this woman in his life. this woman was his soulmate, he could feel it.

(name) walked up to his pink and black guitar guiding the strap over his head and onto his shoulder. he sent smiles and nods to the rest of his band members, asuka, aiko and haru. (name) had met the three during his late teenage years, moving out from his moms apartment to live on his own and follow his own path in life.

asuka was the first one he met, a girl that was only a few years older than him that used to work at a dying pub. one night she stepped out for a smoke break, her hair tied into a messy ponytail with heavy eyebags, she looked like a zombie from afar. (name) was walking down the sidewalk from where her job was located, at first he walked right past her not giving her a glance before stepping back and turning his body to her, a smile on his face.

“you look like someone who knows how to play guitar.” (name) grinned, if he widened his mouth a little more he would be practically showing her all of his teeth. asuka looked him up and down puffing out a bit smoke that was left in her mouth, he was dressed very femininely in an all black outfit. a short thigh length skirt with a belt wrapped to his pelvis, a scarf engulfed his neck along with a zipped up leather jacket and the blonde wig that stuck itself onto his head, his face was caked up in aesthetically pleasing makeup.

she eyed the giant guitar case that looked like a shadow behind him, “and if i do?” she questioned dropping her cigar and stomping on it, preparing herself to go back inside, “i want you to join my band.” she blinked, “…huh?”

“i want you to join my band,” (name) repeated himself the smile on his face not wiping away, ‘he was really serious about this?’ asuka thought to herself as she crossed her arms and sighed getting ready to turn his offer down,,

“i don’t think my job will allow me too—“

“then quit.”

she blinked again, a laugh left her lips. “quit?” she mocked, “look—kid, whatever dream you have going on that you want me to join, isn’t gonna work, okay?” asuka explained motioning her hands around his figure, he continued to stare at her with that giant smile of his, “someone of us have rent that we need to pay so… just get going back to your mom’s house, alright?” she pushed the front of the door open as a slight jingle filled the place, letting workers know of a customer that entered. (name) eyed her tilting his head as he opened his mouth,,

“who says i don’t have money?”

then followed the twins, they were younger than (name) and asuka, both being highschool dropouts and refusing to stay inside. always hanging around under highways or in tunnels, no one batted an eye at them since they were teenagers, no one cared and they didn’t mind that, they had no future so what were they supposed to do? their parents weren’t in their lives anymore, all they had was the each other and their company.

haru was sat crouched down onto the floor sticking different amounts of candy into his mouth as the sound of wrappers opening filled his ears. aiko had her back against the wall, music playing in her headphones as she bobbed her head up and down to what was playing. it’s been a few weeks since they ran away from home, they weren’t sure what to do now, all they had planned out was grabbing their belongings and sprinting out the door the minute their parents had left them alone.

the twins never had good parental figures in their lives, they spent their whole childhoods filled with arguments, beatings, and neglect. bruises covered half of their bodies, scars that never faded away stuck to them like glue, they never felt what love was from an adult. but that was all in the past now, it didn’t matter to them anymore. as long as they stuck together then everything would be fine between them, they’ve done it before, they will do it again.

“you’re gonna ruin your teeth if you keep doing that.”

haru stuck his head up at the voice, he stopped chewing as he took in the figure next to him. “mind your own business, uh…” haru trailed off, the person infront of him was dressed in a tight velvet tanktop that cinched at the waist and rode up at the end, their baggy jeans were a light blue and hid their dark grey shoes. what really got him confused was the black tailbone length hair that covered their slightly broad shoulders, “…lady?”

(name) let out a giggle at this moving a piece of his wig hair behind his ear, “i get that a lot,” he said crossing his arms as he directed his attention to aiko, she was staring at him intently. her posture was slightly anxious as she tore one part of her headphones away from her ear. “where are your parents?”

aiko hesitated to respond, who was this guy? “gone.” she replied, (name) looked at the two with remorse moving one of his hands to cover his heart as he frowned. “so what are you doing here, you guys don’t have any family members that wanna take care of the two of you?” (name) asked watching as the two gulped, ducking their heads as they looked away from him.

“why does it matter to you?” haru asked standing up from where he was squatting, he slightly towered over (name), his head standing closely to the young boys collarbone area.

“ ‘cause i know how you feel.”

(name) flickered his eyes between the two, a sad expression marking itself onto his lips as he pressed onto his heel, walking away from them as his hands rested in his pockets. haru and aiko watched as he stepped away from them, aiko suddenly felt her body be comforted by his words, her eyes stuck on him before quickly grabbing her things as she ran after the man. haru widened his eyes at her sudden actions, “aiko, where are you going?!” he yelled after her as his chest started to beat heavily, “i don’t know!”

(name) waved his hand towards the people behind the curtain, signaling them to start the backtrack. music started to play as he strummed his guitar, the lyrics of one of the bands songs dripped out of his mouth like a waterfall. arisu tuned this out, staring intently at the supposed “girl” on stage. he was getting drunk off of her movements, the way she strummed her fingers on the strings of the guitar made him imagine how rough they would be when he held her hand, how her plump round lips pressed against the microphone slightly made him want to kiss them badly, feel their soft texture against his, heart beating quickly as he examined all the movements she made.

arisu blinked once and suddenly the whole show was already over. he saw the actual band that was performing tonight bowing their heads as they did their encore, everyone clapped their hands and cheered at them. ‘what time was it?’ arisu thought gathering himself together, karube and chōta grabbed him by the arms with smiles on their talking about how good the performance was. he only nodded at them, still thinking about the girl prior. he was desperate in wanting to find her, straining his neck up looking from the crowd of people as if he’d find a performer in a lobby and not backstage.

his eyes blurred by blonde hair, cranking his neck behind him. it was her. oh, would you look at that, he did find “her”. arisu removed his arms from his friends grips, ignoring their worried yelling and apologizing as he pushed past different people. (name) was unbothered, walking through empty hallways not paying attention to the man that was seemingly following him. he pushed past a door that said ‘employees only,’ the cold air nipped at his exposed skin as he shivered grabbing his biceps and rubbing them to create friction.

“i told you to bring a sweater tonight,” asuka spat at him as he walked towards her direction. the rest of his bandmates were loading their equipment into their van, haru and aiko were snipping at each other for who knows what, just regular sibling banter. “it was ruining my outfit..” (name) mumbled wiping off some mucus that slightly dripped down his nose, “oh yeah? well you’re also ruining your immune system by exposing yourself like that, you know if you get sick then we’re gonna have to push back upcoming performances.”

(name) snorted at her bending over as he clutched his stomach, “sorry—sorry, it’s just, you sound like a school teacher right now,” he said through laughs waving his hand at her as he imitated a teacher that would force a girl to cover her shoulders. asuka rolled her eyes at him, she was always protective of him. she was protective of all of the members actually, they were her family and she was the mother of the group. always worrying about their health, waking them up early on concert days, forcing them to go to sleep early and making sure they always get sufficient sleep. keeping (name) from straining his voice, preventing aiko from breaking the skin of her fingertips since she refused to use a guitar pick sometimes, always wasting her money on haru whenever he broke his drumsticks.

she swore she found gray hairs sometimes hidden in her hair, she wasn’t even that old yet she didn’t need all to have all of this stress be put on her. but then again, she was happy with her life, this was definitely better than sitting in a dry end job where she only got paid a few bucks an hour. at least she had fun exploring differnt areas of japan she’d never been through before. asuka flicked her fingers against (name)’s forehead. he cringed back as he soothed the area she touched with his palm.

“ow! what was that for?” (name) yelped narrowing his eyes at her, asuka only shrugged as she prevented a laugh from exiting her at the reaction he gave. arisu rounded the corner of the venue, he had to go back to the front of the building since he was stopped by a staff member the moment he had gotten to the employee’s only door (name) had gone through. his desperate breaths caused fog to come out of his mouth as his eyes landed on the woman he was searching for. she stood there with her back turned towards him, she was speaking to someone, the bassist of her group. a van was parked next to her as she held keys in her hands, they were about to leave but arisu wasn’t gonna let that happen until he finally spoke to her.

“excuse me!”

(name) whipped his head around, watching as a nicely dressed man ran towards his direction, (name) recognized him as one of the men that sat in the front row, “uh, sorry! no autographs tonight! we’re very busy at the moment,” (name) told him as arisu finally stood infront of him, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. arisu panted shaking his head as he swallowed down his dry mouth, “no, no, thats—thats not what i’m here for..”

asuka raised her eyebrow at this, aiko and haru nudged their heads through her arm that was set on the edge of the vans door. (name) peeked his interest as the man stated this, “look, i know this is out of the blue and you probably get tons of guys asking you this but—“ arisu started, grabbing a rose from the inside of his coat, where the hell did he get that from? “i think you’re very beautiful, i wanna have the honor of maybe courting you ?” he cringed as he said this, he sucked at being a romantic.

(name)’s lips were agape, the rest of his members stared at arisu as they took in his confession. “i—uh..” (name) stammered planting his eyes at the rose in arisu’s hands, hesitating to take it, “i’m sorry, but… you know i’m a guy right?” arisu’s eye enlarged themselves as he soaked in the mans words, he did not.

despite this, arisu still felt his heart quicken even more. eye’s brightening as the words left his mouth before he could even think, “i don’t care.” now it was (name)’s turn to widen his eyes, “y-you don’t?” (name) stammered feeling his lip corners turning upwards as he finally took the flower from arisu’s hand, twiddling the leaves between his fingers,

“my father he’s uh, holding an event tomorrow night,” arisu said with a smile watching as (name) stared at him with heart-shaped flecks in his eyes, “i was hoping that maybe you could accompany me?“

the man infront of him frowned at the end of the sentence, dropping his gaze back to the flower in his hand, “if i go… then i’ll have to bring my band members with me, where i go they go. i won’t allow for us to be separated.” arisu looked back at the van, asuka, aiko and haru were sending glares his way the same way overprotective siblings would do whenever they’re family members were getting asked out, “i can arrange for that to happen.”

the remaining three perked up at this, the twins gaining a smile on their lips as (name) looked back at them reciprocating said smile, “alright then.” he replied as heat rose to his cheeks, his teeth shining in the streets lights. the two chatted for a little bit, exchanging numbers in the process before asuka had to interrupt them, reminding (name) about the strict schedule they had to complete tonight. the duo bid goodbyes before (name) remembered they never told each other what they were called.

“oh, i’m (name) by the way! i don’t think i told you that until now.” he giggled waving his hand back, “arisu.” (name)’s body stiffened smile slightly faltering but not enough until arisu finally left the area, aiko stared at him with furrowed brows and big eyes, the other two perked up as they watched arisu walk away. “..arisu.” (name) repeated as his jaw locked in place, looks like they finally found their guy.

“quit struggling so much!”

haru was whisper yelling as him and aiko dragged a man’s tied up body through a white corridor, arisu’s father. (name) and asuka ran up ahead, making sure the coast was clear before helping the twins. you see, maybe the band wasn’t just performing at venues and small clubs. (name) knew what he was doing by dressing up as a woman, he knew how seductive and attractive he was, the amount of desperate people that would flock to him by being a crossdressing man. and… what was he doing, exactly? it was obvious.

seducing the heirs of rich businessmen and woman, sometimes taking an extra cautious step by romancing said men and woman. the band wasn’t rich by any means, yes they were popular but not popular enough to make good money. his members did what they could to help themselves, getting jobs and staying a few extra hours to get enough pay, robbing unsuspecting people, sometimes even going an extra mile and stealing from wishing fountains if they were desperate enough.

but that was getting tiring, they all knew this wasn’t going to be enough to support them, so… they did what they needed to do. steal from rich people and kill them once they were done with the job all with the help of (name)’s appearance. as he batted his eyelashes and pouted his lips, telling them how he never went anywhere without his band members, if he left them then he’d never know to do with himself.

asuka opened the door that lead outside with her back, it was pitch black out, the only light that was on was the one from their van that was being driven by one of her old colleagues. “jeez, for such an old guy you really know how to move your body,” aiko teased him suggestively as they planted the man against dryed up leaves that painted the floor.

(name) pushed the lit up cigarette against his painted lips as he looked at the man bounded by black ropes. for such an ugly guy, he sure did make a good-looking son, arisu must’ve gotten his beauty from his mother instead. to be honest, (name) felt a little bad for tricking arisu. he seemed sweet and caring, far nicer than some of the rich kids he seduced that constantly groped him and called him slightly degrading things because of the way he dressed up. maybe have an actual date with him if they were in a different circumstance.

arisu was nothing but sweet to him and his friends as they got here. introducing him to his best friends karube and chōta, offering to grab drinks for all of them not noticing the way aiko examined the ballroom they were placed in, counting all the bodyguards and security cameras that were high on the walls, the way haru would spit his wine out into a trash can, how (name) took notes of all the people that went in and out of the place, and asuka’s body language that was made her look like she was on high alert once she came back from her “bathroom break.”

arisu only focused on how gorgeous (name) looked tonight. the black dress that he wore that was cut asymmetrically at the ends enhacing his body and curves. the only thing covering his mind was the dream about the day he would propose to this man once they’re relationship developed more and the wedding dress he’d wear once he walked down the aisle. he was obsessed with him, arisu never thought he’d be attracted to a guy before, only ever going after woman, remember, he’s a fuckboy or was a fuckboy. but now, he can’t imagine making love to someone that wasn’t (name).

the four had left a few minutes early, telling him how they needed to get something “important” done tonight. arisu of course walked them out, even when they persisted that he didn’t need to, but allowing him anyways as they saw how lovey-dovey he looked when (name) sent his eyes towards his direction. he let out a content sigh as (name) planted a kiss on the mole that was painted onto his cheekbone, waving a goodbye as their van drove out of his dad’s driveway.

haru walked over to (name), handing him a pistol as he gave him a cheeky smile, the piercing on his lip glittering as he walked away to let him deal with his designated part of the plan. (name) cocked the gun in his hand, throwing away the cigar as he saw arisu’s father stare at him in fear, twitching his body in an attempt to run away from him. “settle down, why don’t you. you’re making this more harder for me than it should be,” he said with anger, his body was tired and he was desperately wishing to go home to take a nap. he aimed his hands towards him, eyes darkening as his pointer finger hovered over the trigger.

two bangs echoed into the air. (name) sighed as he looked at the corpse of the guy that they had been chasing for about awhile now. arisu’s father was rich, very rich. he was practically the number one guy at the top of their drawn out hit list, he didn’t expect that getting to him would be this fast, this easy. he turned away from the body, walking towards their vehicle before noticing that his friends eyes were wide, wide enough that they would fall out of their sockets. (name) stopped in his tracks furrowing his brows, they had never once been shocked about him killing someone before. aiko pointed her finger at something behind him, she looked like her breath was stuck in her throat. turning his head into the direction they were looking at, the color drained from his face as he saw what had shocked them so much. shit.

“arisu..”

[luvbatsy]

. . . GIVE ME WHAT I WANT, WHO AM I SUPPOSED TO PLEASE? WHO AM I?

⌗ PAIRING: yandere! shuntarō chishiya x male! reader x yandere! hikari kuina

⌗ SUMMARY: kuina was the only person that chishiya tolerated during his time in the borderlands. wherever one went, the other followed. the two never let anyone join their pact, only hanging around eachother unless they were required to separate in games. however, what happens when chishiya introduces kuina to a kind face he met during the solitary confinement game?

⌗ THIS WORK INCLUDES . . . lowercase intended, typical aib warnings, typical yandere warnings, third person pov, slight fluff, angst?, reader is traumatized, established relationship (chishiya x kuina), implied poly relationship, protective kuina, flirting, kind’ve bisexual reader, kuina and chishiya reunite, chishiya has his eyeliner back, mentions of the king of spades, reader being too nice for their own good, manipulation, chishiya kinda breaks reader a little, reader gets treated like an object more than a person, character death but it’s not major so don’t worry, mentions of suicide, chishiya and kuina slightly takes advantage of reader and his kindness, chishiya being a little shit, reader is mentioned to be taller than chishiya but shorter than kuina, set during the events of season 2, possible grammar and wording mistakes ❨ not proof read ❩

⌗ EXTRA NOTES: i’m honestly now sure how to feel about this, i feel like it might be all over the place. let me know what you think, feedback is appreciated💙💙 (chishiya gif, kuina gif)

⸺ THE SOUND OF LIGHTS BUZZING filled the silence of the prison. the air was thick as someone new walked in, everyone was spread out around the place, quiet and restless. the black metal bomb collars on their necks didn’t go unnoticed as they shined brightly.

chishiya sighed readjusting his posture. the last player had finally arrived he was waiting here for ages to the point that boredom had started to grow inside him. the tv rang as it turned on, starting to speak.

DIFFICULTY LEVEL: JACK OF HEARTS.

GAME: SOLITARY CONFINEMENT.

the game was simple. guess the shape that appeared on the back of your collar, without cheating by looking at the symbol yourself or with a reflective object. choose a cell once the five minutes of each round ended and state your symbol. seemed easy right?

not quite.

there was time limit during the symbol guessing, don’t answer correctly or take too long to answer? consider your life, game over. the tv stated that the shapes would change every round, this is when a man with navy blue overalls ontop of a yellow shirt decided to speak up, ippei oki.

“wait a sec, so that means we just have to ask each other what our symbols are!”

attention was turned to him at this, “that seems easy enough.” a man who went by (name) spoke up, his mouth shifting into a toothy smile as he went to stand behind ippei going to tell him his symbol before chishiya butted in. “i’m not so sure. they haven’t told us what the conditions to win are yet.”

BE AWARE THAT YOUR OPPONENT, THE JACK OF HEARTS, HAS ALREADY BEEN PLACED AMONG YOU.

“oh, that’s good.”

the announcer continued to talk. no type of violence between players, no weapons, and the game will stop once the jack of hearts is defeated until then, the participants would be forced to stay here unless they find a way to figure it out. chishiya spoke up again, “this means that the only way this game will ever end, is if the jack gives the wrong answer. so, basically, no one here is getting out alive, unless they lie to the jack.”

(name) furrowed his brows at him, “but.. how will we do that if we don’t know who the jack is?” he questioned. chishiya turned to him as a slight smirk tugged at his lip corners, “that’s why we’re here to find out.”

THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.

ROUND ONE: 01: 00: 00

the room fell into another uncomfortable silence, everyone looked at each other until someone spoke up. asking another man about his symbol, the man obliged. completely ignoring the possibility of this man being the jack. how dumb. “so, the twenty of us need to eliminate each other until we somehow figure out who the jack of hearts is.” a man in a suit, ōki yaba, said reminding everyone of what could happen, “what makes you think that anyone is trustworthy?”

the two pulled away, looking at the other in a puzzled manner. everyone else started to break up into groups despite this, in a way to make sure “no one” was going to lie. chishiya just stared, his sharp eyes examining everyone in the room, not bothering to care at their attempts to seemingly win this, “um.. excuse me.” his head turned at the call, it was (name).

“do you—do you mind telling me my symbol, please? and..if you want i’ll tell you yours.” chishiya’s eyes racked upon the man’s body language. his posture was stiff as his hands fiddled against each other, fingers rubbing against another, you could tell his anxiety was through the roof. “are you sure? for all you know, i could be the jack.”

“the jack wouldn’t say something like that.”

chishiya raised his eyebrows at the sternness, he felt something stirring inside him as he stared at the man infront of him, “good point,” he exhaled through his nose, swallowing down a bit of saliva that was stuck in his throat, “but, if you’re trying to survive, i’d advise you examine the people here a little more carefully. keep the ones who don’t lie close, you don’t know who’d be ready to stab you in the back at any moment. i wouldn’t let my guard down, if i were you.”

“does… does that apply to you as well? because, i don’t feel like you’d be the type of person who’d do that,” (name) said with a hint of nervousness in his voice. chishiya didn’t reply, just staring at his face with dark pupils, the jet black eyeliner that decorated his eyelids enhanced them. he felt something stirr inside him again, what was he feeling?

“hey!” a girl wearing all blue with a half up half down hairstyle walked up to ippei, urumi akamaki, a giant smile was plastered on her face as other players were trailing behind her, “do you three wanna join our team? no pressure or anything.”

“uh, it’s not that i don’t want to..” ippei said as him and (name) looked at eachother then at chishiya, he had a grin on his face as he seemingly brightened at her invitation, “okay. we’ll join your group.” chishiya replied for them emphasizing the ‘o’ as he said it. she smiled even more at this, nodding her head at them as she walked away to head downstairs.

(name) whipped his head at chishiya, narrowing his eyes as he open his mouth, “but you said—“

“disregard what i said,” chishiya cut him off tearing the hoodie from his head as he leaned off from the wall, “i think this might be fun.”

ROUND TWELVE BEGINS NOW.

one, then two, three, then five, seven, then nine, ten, then thirteen. hours have passed, half of the players were already gone and the jack of hearts still hasn’t been found.

(name) was crying, his legs planted under him as his hands clutched against his chest. he was still in his cell, not bothering to get up as he weeped. ippei was gone, he killed himself. killed himself even when he was told what the right answer was all because he couldn’t deal with everyone trying to trick each other. (name)’s heart couldn’t handle this anymore, he didn’t believe that people would actually go this far to win. chishiya was right about all this, he should’ve never let his guard down, he should’ve never trusted anyone.

he tried to be kind. always telling everyone the right answer no matter what. even telling urumi the right shape despite when she had gotten more than one person killed. (name) lived his life treating everyone with the upmost respect, he believed that everyone had a good soul deep down. even when they didn’t show it, no one was a bad person in his eyes. no one, not even the person that placed him in these games.

the door opened, letting brightness into the poorly lighten room. chishiya stood there in the middle, hands in the pockets of his jacket as he observed his shaking body. chishiya was jealous of (name). him and his golden personality. the smiles that he gave him after every round started or ended. trying not to let the deaths of the other players get to him, even trying to get chishiya to laugh when he didn’t want to.

wanting to share his snacks when they went down in the basement, comforting ippei when he was about to break down, trying to interfere when the other players tried sabotaging each other (and chishiya always having to stop him), never letting chishiya’s words break him down when he told him what he needed to hear, even when he looked half dead half the time. he wished he could be like that, happy.

“hmph,” chishiya sighed as he looked into the window of the door. ippei’s body was layed out against the wooden tiles, his blood scattered against the walls of the room as he pondered, “looks like we’ve lost our partner.” he moved his head up, seeing the rest of the remaining players looking at the duo, seemingly questioning them with their eyes as they heard the explosion in ippei’s cell. he didn’t care about that of course, he never did. as long as (name) was still alive it didn’t matter to him. his feet began to move, walking away from the dead body expecting (name) to follow behind him like he regularly did during each round.

silence. he didn’t hear anything trailing next to him, weird, since (name) was just behind him. chishiya stopped in his tracks, turning his legs to see what was keeping (name) from moving. ah. the man was staring at ippei’s corpse, he forgot the friendship the two had made during the rounds. chishiya rolled his eyes as he walked back up to him, (name)’s head refused to move away from the door, “it’s not worth your time.” chishiya said trying to return his focus back onto him, “he already chose his path. there was nothing you could do.” (name) gulped, nodding his head as he chewed on his bottom lip to prevent himself from crying, he was never the best at hiding his emotions. either way, he was glad he was able to make a friend during his time here, even if it was for a little while.

“c’mon, i’m hungry.” chishiya joked signaling his head to the direction of the basement. (name) took one last glance at ippei, his glossy eyes moving to look at the white haired man infront of him. he was so close to breaking, chishiya’s stomach stirred once again. butterflies, that’s what he was feeling. he felt butterflies moving around in his stomach at (name)’s gaze. why hadn’t he realized that before? was this love? no. this was something more, something he couldn’t point his finger at. but… what was this?

‘i don’t feel like you’d be the type of person who’d do that.’ those words echoed in chishiya’s head everytime (name) looked at him. oh, how wrong he was. how very wrong. he’s glad he hadn’t met him before, during the beach, his poor sunshine, maybe then he’d think about reconsidering those words.

the man shook his head as chishiya approached him, crouching down to meet at his eye level, “i’m tired..” (name) whined, his voice stammering at the words that left him, “i’m tired, chishiya. i don’t wanna do this anymore..” chishiya cocked his head, not bothering to hide his cat-like mannerisms. “this world has no place for people like you.”

“huh—”

“your kindness means nothing here,” he explained, “it doesn’t matter what you do, since it won’t be enough. the citizens here are like animals, i already told you, ‘examine the people here a little more carefully,’ but you didn’t listen. letting your heart steer you and not your brain, that was your first mistake. you’re never gonna be safe here if you keep up this act, you know better than this.”

(name) breathed heavily, he was right. his heart was holding him in a headlock. this place was about survival, not love, not care or empathy. all the people who’ve left him to die in previous games came flashing back to him, they were already dead. the previous players, dead. but him, he was still alive, this was how it always was supposed to be, just him. chishiya soothed back the loose hair strands that had fallen onto his face with his cold hands, watching (name) finally come to the realization he was trying to show him this whole time. a sharp smirk covered his face, “besides, you don’t wanna end up like ippei, do you?”

that. that was the breaking point. “no! no… no, never, i don’t—i don’t want that!” (name) yelled, if the remaining four players weren’t already far away from the cells, they could’ve heard what chishiya said and pin point him into the accusation of being the jack of hearts. good thing they weren’t though, luck was always on chishiya’s side right? “then why give up? you’ve already made it this far, why stop. other people would just beg to be in your position, you know.” (name)’s eyes steered away from him, ducking his head down as his body shivered.

chishiya always knew how to get into someone’s mind, it was like second nature to him. always convincing someone he was there to help, acting all buddy buddy just to leave them in a ditch somewhere. whether it be dead or alive, he didn’t care, he only worried about his own skin. his own chances of survival. but thats not how he felt towards (name), no. he wanted (name) to stick around with him. maybe even have him meet kuina, he knows she’d love him. she always liked guys like him. “now…” chishiya spoke up, the grin on his face still hadn’t faltered as he turned himself around,,

“mind telling me what my symbol is?”

kuina thighs were aching, she’d already been through three face card arenas and she still hasn’t caught sight of ann or chishiya since they were separated during the king of spades game. she was getting tired, what if this plan of hers was for nothing? what if she broke off from arisu and usagi just to end herself up in circles? kuina shook her head, no. she knew one of them was close, she knew it. it was only a matter of time before the three reunited with each other.

‘stay positive’ she reminded herself, not letting her worries try and get to her. kuina moved her legs once more before a growl left her stomach. ah right, food. she forgot about that. unhooking her backpack from her shoulders, she unzipped it scattering the bag for any type of protein bar she might’ve left in it just in case. nothing, her hand picked up an empty wrapper chucking it against the gravel beside her. kuina scowered her eyes around, looking for any type of place that could’ve possibly had something to eat.

her iris stopped as they landed on an abandoned market, she picked her bag up once again as she check around her to make sure nothing of harm was near it. she carefully walked towards it, stepping through the broken glass door as she scanned through the place. all the shelves were messed up but the food that were left on it had yet to be expired. she chucked anything that was healthy into her bag, not wanting to waste any time on getting back to her search. kuina jittered as a loud bang was heard in the back of the store, the sound of cans toppling over intrigued her.

she started moving, not thinking twice of the danger that could possibly be waiting for her. taking slow and easy steps towards the noise, her hands were balled up into fists, sure she was heading into something that might kill her but at least she was still being cautious. a tuft of white blurred past her vision, her eyes focused on what she was seeing, an almost human-like figure was making itself clearer to her. could it be—“chishiya?” her eyes enlarged themselves as she stared at him.

chishiya stood there with biscuits in his hand, his outfit was different from when she last saw him. he sported a white jacket over a pitch black shirt and sweatpants, he was still somehow clean, no dirt or anything was to be seen on his pure white sweater or hair. “hey.” was all he said, his lips pressed into his regular straight thin line. kuina hesitated at first, what if her mind was playing tricks on her because of how hungry she was? there was no way. yes, she loved chishiya but she doesn’t think her brain was this good at making things seem real.

“chishiya!” she exclaimed extending both of her arms as she lunged at him. he winced as she took him in a bone crushing hug, he forgot how strong she was. “how are you here? when did you get here?—“ kuina bombarded him with questions, ‘where did he go?,’ ‘how’d he have time to change?,’ ‘what games did he play?’ stuff like that. another sound was heard, she focused her attention on this one, chishiya didn’t seem to care. kuina pushed him behind her, she had already found the source of his noise, so what could be making this one?

a man stumbled out from behind one of the shelves, a gun was perched onto his shoulder and a plastic bag was held in one of his hands as he stared at the two, centering his eyes onto chishiya. “don’t worry,” chishiya said to him stepping away from kuina’s hold, “this is kuina, the one i told you about when we left.”

(name) relaxed his body language, bambi eyes scanning over kuina before he extended one of his hands out, “it’s nice to meet you, i’m (name).” he introduced waiting for her to comply to the handshake. kuina looked over at chishiya, raising one of her eyebrows at him before she placed her hands into his. “you too.” she smirked as she fully soaked in his appearance, “hey... you’re kinda cute, y’know.” (name) raised his eyebrows turning his gaze back to chishiya.

“we met during the jack of hearts game,” chishiya started walking over to (name)’s side as he stared at him, placing his hand on his shoulder turning back to kuina, “he’s pretty useful, he’d be a good benefit to us. i already told him he could join us.” kuina crossed her arms ontop of her chest, the muscles on her biceps defining themselves at her action as she licked her lips slightly, “is that so?”

(name) nodded his head, his face looked broken, like he wasn’t even a person and more like a robot or a doll. what had chishiya done to him? “well, it’s nice to have you on our ‘team,’ (name).” she complimented him, he bowed his head as a thank you. “use your words,” chishiya demanded him sternly, “thank you, kuina.”

kuina cooed at him, ‘how cute’ she thought. it was like this man was made specifically for the two of them. obedient, handsome but slightly sexy, nice, semi-protective, his height even reached to her shoulders but he still towered over chishiya just how she likes it, and… did she mention cute? he was kinda like how arisu was when they first met him if you thought about it, only this time chishiya didn’t have any thoughts about betraying him. oh, she was definitely going to enjoy this addition of their relationship.

the three were walking on a dirty path through the city. kuina and chishiya were farther ahead as (name) trailed behind them, struggling to catch up with the two especially with all the extra weight they had forced upon him (the food bags in his hands, kuina’s heavy backpack and the gun hanging loosely off his shoulder.)

the duo infront had no want and made no effort in stopping for him. “i have to give to you, chishiya,” kuina says biting down on her fake cigar, “you really know how to pick them,” she turned back watching as (name) kept his head low throughout all the steps he made.

chishiya let another smirk leave his lips following her gaze, “so, what do you think?”

“i like him.”

[luvbatsy]

. . . SO, TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME AGAIN

⌗ PAIRING: ryōhei arisu x gender neutral! reader

⌗ SUMMARY: arisu will never feel the happiness of hearing the person he loves the most say “i love you” to him again.

⌗ THIS WORK INCLUDES . . . lowercase intended, typical aib warnings, third person pov, short fic, established relationship, ANGST ANGST ANGST, sprinkles of fluff, major character death, being doomed by the narrative, PTSD, grief, takes place during the wolf and three lambs game (changed to four), reader and arisu being helplessly inlove with each other, use of pet names, mentions of suggestive content, mentions of nudity (not sexual), fixed grammar and wording mistakes ❨ edited ❩

⌗ EXTRA NOTES: another arisu fic, who cheered!! 🎉🎉 not my best work, but i just wanted to post something regardless🫶🫶 i never wanna be put through the pain of re-watching episode 3 EVER again

⸺ EIGHT MINUTES REMAINING.

panic was all arisu had felt in his body as he stared at his reflection. hands cradling the collar around his neck as he felt his knees threatening to buckle under him, trying desperately to ignore karube yelling his name as he felt himself starting to hyperventilate. memories flooding him of the poor woman whose head had exploded infront of his own eyes at the end of the tag game.

he was the wolf.

all because he made the mistake of running after karube once shibuki bolted into the rest of the building, selflessly leaving the rest of her “friends” to potentially die. it was the fault of the stupid rule of this game, where the lambs were required to hide as the wolf hunted them. but what was the point of doing so if the lambs were going to die once whoever was the wolf had won?

“you just wanted to be the only survivor in the first place!” karube yelled limping around as he searched for arisu. he didn’t want to be chosen. he didn’t ask to be chosen. he knew there was a solution to this game, one where all of them would live. one where he wouldn’t have to worry about his best friends or his own lover dying. he just needed more time, that’s all!

“arisu..” (name)’s soft voice called out to him. he didn’t respond, setting himself down in the corner. arms wrapped around himself as he breathed heavily, tears and snot trailing down his face, “tell me what’s wrong, honey. what’s wrong?” honey, that stupid pet name they’d given him that always made his face flush and heart race.

open-mouth kisses were being pressed across the teeth marks and love bites that decorated arisu’s bare chest, he let out airy giggles at the ticklish feeling. “honey,” (name) called out resting their body next to his as their warm hands brushed through his tangled hair, “you’re so important to me, y’know that?” arisu smiled at them, locking his dilated pupils to theirs. “yeah,” he smiled, “almost like you’ve told me that about a—dozen—times now?”

“really?” (name) cocked their head, pressing their lips into a pout as their biceps wrapped around his toned waist, “well can you blame me? you’re just too goddamn perfect, i can’t help it.” they said pressing their soft lips onto his, every kiss was followed by a ‘perfect.’ arisu face started to blush as he attempted to pull away, getting flustered by all the praise he was receiving.

“hey, come on—get off me you big pervert!”

“nooo, i just wanna love you”

“no—hey!” arisu kicked his legs as (name) caged their frame onto his. feathery kisses brushed his skin as he clutched his hands onto (name)’s back, nails slighty scraping their skin. “i love you, so so much.” they said letting their head up, “never let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?” arisu grazed his hand onto their shoulder blade, scrunching up his nose as a smile left him, “i love you too, no matter what.”

one last kiss was pressed onto him as (name) grabbed the sheets from the end of the bed, engulfing the two into a much needed warmth as the cold nipped at their bodies, letting rest wrap them up into it’s embrace.

FIVE MINUTES REMAINING.

he wished he never went to sleep that night, he wanted to have that feeling back. the feeling of (name)’s love as they made him feel special, wanted and not let the words of his father get to him. reassuring him that he wasn’t the failure he was sought out to be, “i’m sorry..” he cried out, “i’m sorry!”

“what’s the point in apologizing now?!” karube interrogated spitting insults at him left and right, “if you’re going to be a loser forever, then just let me be the wolf, arisu!”

“you’re perfect.”

tears clogged his vision as he shut his eyes closed, “(name) …” arisu pleaded to them, thinking about about how happy he felt with them, how happy karube and chōta made him during dire times. his friends, his partner. the people he cared the most about in this world. all the dreams they shared together, all the moments they went through with each other, every secret that was told, all the birthday parties that were celebrated, all the hangouts, everything. he didn’t want to lose them, his family.

“you better keep your promise, you hear that?”

TIME REMAINING, THREE MINUTES.

“i’ll drop out.” arisu stated, “i’ll drop out, i’ll drop out of this game!” he weeped, “you guys are all i have, if someone has to survive.. it’s not me. i’ll leave the game.” he shook, forcing his body to move. calling out to the three asking them where they were, they didn’t respond.

“karube, chōta? (name)!” he called out again. no response. he ran out from where he was hiding, checking the places he last saw the three. they were gone. hidden themselves from his line of view so he wouldn’t find them. chōta dragging shibuki into a bush, karube hiding under a stone bench and (name) placing himself behind a giant board implanted into the ground.

arisu screamed their names as he searched, not stopping until one of them responded to his pleas, “shut up!” karube replied. he called out to him, holding onto the side of this device to hear him clearer. “making a ruckus like idiots, and drinking the night away. forcing (name) to give us a ride home whenever we were too drunk to even move…when i’m with you guys, i forget about all the troubles i have.” karube monologued throwing away the weapon he had picked at the beginning of the game, “you remember, right? that hot summer day we made noodles with shaved ice.”

“i remember being grossed out by the flavor and spitting it out everywhere.” (name) chuckled picking at the grass beneath him. “we laughed a lot then, didn’t we?” chōta chimed in. “chōta laughed so hard noodles came out from his nose.” karube added as a laugh started to leave him.

“you don’t have to mention that!”

the three shared a sweet moment, ignoring all of arisu’s cries as he asked to know where they were. “it was always so nice hanging out with you guys,” (name) said holding back tears as his voice started to shake, “i don’t think i’d want my life to be any other way. especially without you, arisu. you were always so loving to me, thank you.”

“(name)! please…. just tell me where you are!” arisu urged, his throat started to ache at all of the calling but he didn’t care, he needed someone to take his place as the wolf. “arisu,” chōta began as shibuki started to struggle less at his hold, realizing that her attempts of freedom didn’t matter anymore as the end was coming near, “live on for us.”

THIRTY SECONDS REMAINING.

“it’s not me! i shouldn’t be the one to stay alive!” arisu panted moving his head an in attempt to catch one of them, “karube! chōta! (name)!”

“i’m right here, honey.”

he whipped his body, coming into contact with (name) who was standing on one of the bridges. his body was turnt to only be seen from the side, eyes faced away from him, “(name)… look at me, please!”

TEN SECONDS.

“look at me!”

FIVE.

“i’m begging you!”

FOUR.

“please!”

THREE.

“don’t leave me, i don’t wanna be without you!”

TWO.

“i love you, ryōhei arisu.”

ONE.

“(name)!” arisu sprinted towards them. the collar chimed as their body went limp, the explosion splattering their blood everywhere. arisu catched them before their body could collide with the floor, the crimson liquid staining his face. shock filled him as he stared at the body of his dead lover. their lips molded into a smile, even when faced with death they were as happy as they could be.

arisu screamed. emotions overtaking him as he wrapped his arms around them. one of his hands cradled the back of their head, showing them nothing but care as his tears flooded down onto their face, his misery echoing throughtout the emptiness of the night.

ding!

GAME CLEAR.

CONGRATULATIONS!

and bumblebee!

[luvbatsy]

. . . I WANT YOUR EVERYTHING, EVERY SINGLE PART OF YOU

⌗ PAIRING: yandere! suguru niragi x male! reader, yandere! ryōhei arisu x reader x yandere! yuzuha usagi

⌗ SUMMARY: ever since (name) had been sent to this world of murder games, he thought that nothing could get worse upon from where he was now. that is until he catches the attention of a certain rifle handling psychopath. but rest assured, arisu and usagi won’t let the militant touch what’s theirs.

⌗ THIS WORK INCLUDES . . . lowercase intended, kind’ve dark content, typical aib warnings, typical niragi warnings, typical yandere warnings, third person pov, weapons described, cursing, niragi being worse than he already is, obsessed niragi, unhealthy love, “love” at first sight, possessive niragi, one-sided obsession, suggestive content (not full-on smut tho), reader only has eyes for arisu and usagi, implied poly relationship, bisexual! reader, threatening, suicidal thoughts, mentions of niragi’s backstory, assault, drugging, reader being too “pure” for the borderlands, reader gets hurt a lot, mentions of episode 3, scars, the militants, torture, niragi seeing himself in reader, reader wears glasses, stalking??, PTSD, niragi just being really creepy altogether, niragi calls reader “rabbit,” reader just wants to go home, also slight episode 6 rewrite, possible grammar and wording mistakes ❨ not proof read ❩

⌗ EXTRA NOTES: this was originally supposed to be JUST a niragi fic, but then i started thinking about arisu and so i added him in, BUT THEN i started thinking about usagi once i started writing for his part so now there’s this. enjoy!! (niragi gif, arisu x usagi gif)

⸺ THIS WORLD WAS ROTTEN, that’s all (name) knew when he was sent to this verison of shibuya. a version where he had to fight for his life in games that he never thought he’d be able to survive. he missed his family. he missed the warm comfort of his bed, the cold wind that brushed against his window at night, the excitement he always felt as he met up with his friends to hang around amusement parks that opened around the city.

why, why him? had he done something wrong in his past life to be cursed into this hell? he didn’t know what to do during his time here, he was alone throughout all this. he had survived, what—three—four? games by now. eight of spades, three of diamonds, six of clubs, and two of spades. he didn’t want to do this anymore, he didn’t wanna kill innocent people just to keep himself safe. either way, it’s not like he was given a choice. with the effects of the visa lingering over him, he had too. he was afraid of letting the days run out just to get shot down by a laser that came from god knows where.

he didn’t know the importance of the cards, he just stuck them in his pockets after he finished a game and off he went to his abanded apartment building to rest for the remainder of the day. that is … until he found the beach. he doesn’t know how he found it in the first place, but not a day goes by where he doesn’t regret it. why you may ask? it’s simple, really.

it was all because of suguru niragi.

ever since (name) joined the beach, niragi has been anything but kind to him. yes, niragi was already a complete asshole to people at the beach anyways, but for some reason (name) was his number one target. constantly degrading him, beating him till he was bruised to the pulp, even making some of the militants hold back his limbs as he dragged his (loaded) rifle across his abdomen and chest telling him how “he could pull the trigger at any moment if he wanted to”; this always stroke fear into (name)’s core. even stealing the chipped glasses off his face making his shitty vision betray him, this gave niragi a bigger advantage to the torture he indured as this made the man more helpless than he already was.

(name) was weak, fragile even and easily scared, he wouldn’t deny that, the borderlands practically ruined him. he knew that niragi could actually kill him at the slight pull of his trigger. it didn’t help that niragi was a stubborn and narcissistic man that wasn’t afraid of getting blood on his hands if it meant having more fun, the total opposite of what (name) was. he always attempted to avoid him throughout the building but alas, he always failed. especially since the militants were everywhere, always notifying him of his location or when he got back from a game. he was like a bug that always showed up around the house no matter how many times he tried squishing it. the beach was supposed to be a place where players could have fun, not stressing about the games that existed outside of it.

live your lives to the fullest was the message hatter had given everyone, but how could he do that when this maniac lingered at every corner he turned? he couldn’t relax if he wanted too, always on edge as stress ate up his body worrying about both the games and the pierced devil with an ego too big for his body. (name) prayed every night that niragi would just disappear one day, maybe even failing at a game for being too careless or reckless at it. however, no matter how many times he did so, he would always succeed. coming back even more pyschotic than the day prior and he’d have to deal with his wounds getting reopened again as the days went by.

niragi hated how much (name) reminded him of how he used to be. innocent, weak, helpless, lonely, always letting his bullies get the upper hand all because he didn’t know how to defend himself. he wanted to kill him. kill the person that reminded him of all those horrible memories. but he didn’t, no matter how many times he thought of doing so, he didn’t. he was too infatuated with him.

ever since he first caught sight of (name), he was obsessed with him, how pure he was. all the brightness he had in his eyes, the spark inside them having yet to go out considering the predicament he was put in. how everytime he caught sight of niragi, his eyes widened and his body began to shake. all the tears and whimpers that left him as he dragged a knife against his skin, threatening to cut it open and leave him to bleed out. his poor little rabbit. being forced to succumb to the rules of the borderlands, he just wanted to tie him up and leave him in a closet where only he could find him. where he’d have to be forced to rely on niragi to live. he was perfect.

of course, that wasn’t possible. he didn’t want (name)’s visa days to run out and have to come back to his lifeless body bleeding out on the floor because of that stupid laser. so he let him roam free. if you would call tormenting “roaming free.” but again, it was all he could do. he didn’t have to worry about the beach residents foiling his plan since they already knew that (name) was off limits. ever since one of them walked in on his fun time, as he liked to call it.

(name)’s whimpers were muffled as the fabric that kept him quiet tugged against the corners of his mouth. his hands jerked at the restraints that trapped them against the frame of the bed, his feet were mirrored the same way. all he did was let out tears at his situation. niragi had captured him again, after he thought he’d been so successful in avoiding him. he hadn’t seen him or the militants all day, he was ecstatic in thinking he could have a peaceful day finally, one where he could relax just like hatter promised.

oh how naive the poor thing was, did he forget where he was stuck at? he strolled around the hallways of the building, playing around at the umbrella straw that was soaked inside his drink. he was finally able to visit the club that most of the citizens hung around in, a huge bright smile was plastered on his face. this was the first time he felt ever content in this place in months or however long he’s spent here (dates or calendars weren’t very accurate especially since the internet didn’t work anymore and nobody’s been keeping track of the days) it was too good to be true, but like always, his happiness was cut short. as soon as he turned the corner to head to his room he felt someones hand press a wet cloth against his nose, the smell of it was nauseous, his drink dropped to the floor staining the carpet beneath it. “shh…” was all he heard before he blacked out.

his vision was groggy as he woke up, blinking his eyes at an attempt to take in his surroundings. the room he was in was dark but dimly light by the bedside light, window curtains blocking off the outside, and wooden door closed off. attempting to sit up, he struggled, finally feeling his limbs glued to the bed he was in. realization had finally set in as he cried, obviously nothing came out and nobody would hear him anyways, so why would he even try?

“i missed you today.”

like a sixth sense, the door opened as a figure walked in, niragi. a shit-eating grin painted his face as he watched (name) struggle against the hold of the ropes, muffled screams left him as he walked over to his side settling down his rifle. niragi grabbed ahold of his face, squishing his cheeks together as he mocked a pout, “i have to give it to you, you hid yourself pretty well. i was starting to think you fell down the rabbit hole.” he spat rolling (name)’s head to the side. niragi opened the bedside table as he grabbed a small pocket knife that was hidden inside it.

he cocked the knife, revealing the sharp metal point. (name) was breathing heavily as niragi crawled ontop of him trailing the knife across from his collarbones down to the middle of his shirt. sticking out his tongue as slick stuck to the metal ball in the middle of it, lapping at his face as (name) cringed at the warm feeling of niragi’s spit mixed with the heat that filled his face. “you know better than to fuck with me..” niragi snarled, “it’s almost like you want me to kill you?” his fist collided with (name)’s face as he squirmed, dark eyes peered over him as nirgai bit his lip at the sight. the pervert was getting aroused at this.

he was too intoxicated at his movements, all of his undivided attention was focused on the screams that left (name)’s mouth as deepened the knife into his thigh drawing blood. the door handled jiggled as it opened, a girl with long hair and bangs stood in the doorway, color left her face as she saw the scene infront of her. niragi snapped his head, sending a glare her way, “s-sorry…i-i-i’m so sorry! i didn’t see anything i promise!” she stammered closing her eyes shut and bowing her head as she left, slamming the door shut.

niragi clicked his tongue turning his head back as he smiled at the man under him, lightly bending his torso over to whisper in his ear, “there goes your savior.”

(name) was losing hope. all the pain he’s felt was bringing him to the edge, he wanted to end it all. nobody was going to save him, no one at the beach even gave him at a glance at all the agony he’s gone through. who was he going to tell all of this too? hatter, the drunkend sex obsessed lunatic? aguni, niragi’s own boss? fuck, no. they wouldn’t give two shits about how he was feeling. he needed someone more special, his own white knight or maybe even an angel, perhaps.

an angel like… ryōhei arisu.

arisu wasn’t like everyone else at the beach. he was smart, kind, caring, good-hearted, empathetic, handsome, he was the type of person who would risk his life if it meant protecting others. he was everything (name) needed. he never expressed any desires in hurting him, always protecting the other whenever they were paired up in a game together. with all of these sessions a friendship had started to build up with the two.

he was comfortable in expressing all his desires of wanting to go back to his old life, the yearning he had to see his friends and family again, even telling about him all the things niragi had done to him before he came. arisu listened to everything, never interrupting him or cutting him off, always giving him a hug or letting him cry into his shoulder as his hatred for niragi grew even more.

arisu had even opened up to him about losing his friends in a seven of hearts game. how they sacrificed themselves just so he could live on, a promise he intended to keep for as long as he was alive. (name) felt safe around him, always hanging around arisu and usagi as they gladly accepted him into their team.

arisu was his angel, while yuzuha usagi was his white knight.

usagi was just like arisu. kind, smart, beautiful, good-hearted, and protective, but unlike arisu, she was stronger. stronger than both of them, both physically and mentally. the type of person who worked independently, unless she was with someone she cared about and knew well. despite how she presented herself, she was still sensitive and emotional on the inside, especially with the grief she had of losing her father. she’d built up walls that she had never thought she’d be able to take down for anyone that wasn’t arisu. anyone that wasn’t (name).

ever since she found out what happened to him, she felt remorse for him. nobody should have to deal with all the misery he went through, nobody.

one day, during a game, she had teamed up with him. it was a spades game, something she was good at. during one of the rounds, (name) was attacked by another player while he was off guard, he tried to fight back but his strength wasn’t the best as his attacker easily overpowered him. usagi came out of nowhere, knocking the other player off of him as she delivered a blow to their face, over and over again. anger was all she felt at this person trying to to get rid of one of the only people she cared about. she didn’t care if this person was just trying to play the game and had the desire to survive like her. no, she wasn’t gonna let anybody take (name) from her.

lifting her bloody knuckles from the blow she gave, she stood up picking up (name)’s glasses that were knocked off him to return. that’s when she saw it. his shirt was ridden up as his chest heaved, eyes closed with messy hair and sweat wetting his skin. her face felt hot as she looked away, shaking her head to get rid of all the erotic thoughts that filled her subconscious. but what really caught her eyes were the pigmented lines that reached from his torso all the way to his waistband and dipped even lower than that.

his body was littered with all the affliction that she knew was forced onto him. her ears started ringing as all possible images of what could’ve happened to him flood to her. god, did she just wanna kill niragi.

“usagi… is that you?”

the calling of her name took her out of it, rushing to (name)’s side. “yeah it’s me.” she replied setting his glasses back onto his face, brushing a strand of hair away, “don’t worry, you’re safe now.” she cradled his face in her hands as they smiled at each other, (name) thanking her profusely before they went on to finish the rest of the game, not caring about the bloody corpse that was left behind.

yeah, safe.

the two made a deal between themselves, protect (name) no matter the cost. when (name) told them the thoughts he had conjured up of wanting to let go of himself, all arisu saw was him the day after the wolf and three lambs game.

lying on the street, filthy, dried blood and tears staining him. graphic memories of karube’s head exploding as his body flumped to the floor, his lit up cigarette rolling to arisu’s feet as he cried out into the air. nothing but his weeping could be heard throughout the building. he was begging for death, he wanted to be with karube and chōta again. not caring if he would be breaking the promise they had given him, he missed his brothers.

he doesn’t think he would still be here if usagi hadn’t saved him. but man, is he grateful she did. cause if she didn’t, he doesn’t think he’d have the gratitude of being with her or meeting (name). he made a promise that he’d never let anyone feel the same way he did after that. he definitely wouldn’t let (name) feel that way.

“you have us now,” arisu reassured him. the three were in (name)’s suite, he was sat on one of the twin beds as arisu and usagi were on the one across from him. tears streamed down (name)’s face as he turned his head up. the duo were looking at him with nothing but love in their eyes.

usagi nodded her head at this, standing up to move beside him, resting her hands on his shoulders, “i promise you’ll be safe as long as we stick together.” she said softly wiping the tears from his cheeks. arisu grabbed his right hand clasping it between both of his, “we’ll protect you and we’ll bring you back with us to the real world.”

(name) furrowed his brows, ripping his hand back (much to arisu’s dismay) as he looked between the both of them, “but hatter said only one person can go back to the real world? someone who has all the cards, and only he can have all of them, so how would you—“

“hatter is dead,” arisu responded coldly with no hint of hesitation in his voice. (name)’s breath hitched in his throat, eyes expanding, cranking his head to look at usagi. begging this to just be a joke. a joke where she would laugh the moment he looked at her. hatter was strong, reckless, but strong. surely one simple game couldn’t have ended it all for him, right? his eyes met hers as she nodded, her face was stoic, no sense of humor to be found on it. no. “he failed at one of his games. the game where everybody was celebrating his help to retrieve one of the playing cards,” she says rubbing her thumb against his cheek to soothe his nerves.

his pupils darted around the room at the conformation, stopping to connect with arisu’s, “so.. who runs the beach now?”

“we haven’t decided yet.” he replies, “me and the rest of the executives are gonna have a meeting about it tomorrow afternoon. my guess is kuzuryu. i mean, it’d make sense, he is second in line.”

nodding his head (name) spoke up again, “and the cards? how do you expect to get those?”

“chishiya.”

a laugh escaped him, “chishiya? the only person who works with him is kuina, how’d you get him to become your ally?”

“it’s a long story, really. it’s best we don’t get into it right now,” arisu responded, “he told me he has a plan for after the new beach leader gets chosen. and we were hoping you’d help us with it.”

(name) shook his head at the offer, this entire thing seemed sketchy. chishiya wasn’t the type of person who would just so easily let someone help with one of his schemes and hatter’s death, how would the new leader explain that to the citizens? there was definitely something going on that they didn’t know about.

“hey, listen,” arisu steered his attention away from his thoughts, “just like usagi said, you’ll be safe with us. if you’re worried about anything bad happening during tomorrow then you can just stay in my room. everybody will be busy in the lobby anyways—“

“no.”

usagi raised her brows at this, “no?” she repeated. “i wanna help.” (name) said grabbing arisu’s hands just like he had done to him a few seconds ago, “i don’t care anymore. i wanna go home. i wanna go back and maybe even have a life with the two of you.”

the duo smiled at the last sentence, having a life with him sounded nice. just the three of them, together. “yeah..” arisu whispered, if he was a cartoon character he would definitely have giant heart shaped eyes just by (name)’s actions, “okay, yeah! that sounds great, yeah!” he rapidly collected himself straightening his posture as he stood up, “well, it’s uh.. getting pretty late, i think we should all head to bed now. c’mon usagi, let’s go!”

usagi stiffled a smile at his awkwardness. he never really was good at being a romantic, “sweet dreams.” usagi said giving (name)’s shoulders one last rub before getting up and following arisu out of the room. (name) watched as they left, his stomach started to churn as he internally slapped himelf, already regretting what he had just said to them.

what had he gotten himself into?

i was gonna write a lot more but i didn’t want the fic to end up being too long so i ended it right there. i have a lot of ideas that i wanna do with this, so i might expand on the story a little more. maybe or maybe not, we’ll see.

[luvbatsy]

the last supper

genre: smut

pairing: gi hun x male!reader (implied frontman x reader x gi-hun)

CW: rimming, gi-hun eats reader out like a starved man, the term [y/n] is not used, semi-public sex, voyeurism

word count: 1.5k

The dining table stood empty now, the remnants of your final meal scattered across the pristine white cloth. The ominous quiet of the room was heavy, pressing down like a weight as you and Gi-hun exchanged lingering glances.

You were the only two left—the finalists.

The elegant black suit they’d given you felt stiff against your skin, a stark contrast to the ragged tracksuits you’d worn throughout the games. Gi-hun, sitting across from you, was similarly transformed, his dark hair slicked back, his usually weary expression replaced by something sharper, more intense.

He hadn’t said much during dinner, his focus flickering between his plate and you. Now, as the silence stretched, his gaze settled fully on you, warm and probing, as if he were trying to read your thoughts.

“You clean up nice,” he said at last, his voice low and rough, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Flattery won’t get you far,” you replied, leaning back in your chair, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your nonchalance.

He chuckled softly, the sound unexpectedly intimate in the vast, empty room. “I’m just being honest. You’ve got that... effect.”

“Effect?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He stood then, rounding the table with slow, deliberate steps. His movements were unhurried, his eyes locked on you like a predator sizing up its prey. When he reached your side, he leaned down, his face inches from yours.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “The kind that makes it hard to think straight.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as his hand rested lightly on the back of your chair, his body so close that you could feel the heat radiating from him. “What are you doing, Gi-hun?” you asked, your voice quieter now, tinged with uncertainty—and something else.

“Something I’ve been wanting to do for a while,” he said, his tone low and thick with meaning.

Before you could respond, his hand moved to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his. His thumb brushed against your cheek, the touch featherlight but searing. The room seemed to shrink around you as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice a challenge, a dare.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was as electrifying as it was unexpected. He responded instantly, his hand sliding to the nape of your neck, pulling you deeper into him.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, as if all the tension of the games—the fear, the pain, the longing—had culminated in this one moment. His other hand found your waist, tugging you to your feet and closer to him.

Your suit jackets rustled together as his fingers gripped the fabric, his touch firm and unyielding. The kiss deepened, his lips and tongue leaving no room for hesitation. You clung to him, your own hands exploring the planes of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged. His hands still held you, grounding you in the moment.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice hoarse but sincere, his eyes searching yours.

Your answer was clear in the way you pulled him back in, your lips finding his once more.

The kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that left no room for second-guessing. His hands, rough from the games, cradled your face like you were the only thing grounding him in this moment. You clung to him just as fiercely, your fingers gripping the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him impossibly closer.

Gi-hun’s breath hitched when your hands trailed down to his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath the finely tailored fabric. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss further, his lips parting yours with a tenderness that gave way to raw need. His hands moved down, one settling at the small of your back, the other tracing the curve of your jaw with his thumb.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and unsteady.

“Maybe I do,” you whispered back, your words a challenge as your hands slid up to his shoulders, tugging him closer still.

Gi-hun chuckled, the sound dark and rough, before his lips found yours again, more insistent this time. The way he kissed you was consuming, like he was trying to etch the memory of you into his very soul. Each touch, each brush of his lips and hands, seemed to speak of everything he couldn’t say out loud—the pain, the longing, the fragile hope he clung to in your presence.

You stumbled back slightly as he guided you toward the nearest wall, his hand steady at your waist to keep you from losing your balance. The cold surface pressed against your back, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between the two of you. Gi-hun’s fingers skimmed along your sides, his touch firm yet reverent, as if he were memorizing every inch of you.

The room felt smaller now, the air thick with the electricity of what was happening. His lips left yours briefly, trailing a line of kisses along your jaw and down to the hollow of your throat. His breath was hot against your skin, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the taste of you.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, a quiet gasp escaping you when his teeth grazed the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. Gi-hun pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and heavy with desire.

He chuckled again, the sound vibrating through you as he pressed another lingering kiss to your lips. This one was softer, slower, but no less intense. His hands remained at your waist, anchoring you to him as if he was afraid to let go.

He slowly lifted you up, pushing your pants and boxers down at the same time. Your erection sprung out, waiting to be touched.

Instead of focusing on your length, he simply turned you around, with your back facing him, and your cheek pressing up against the cold wall.

“They didn’t give us desert, it’s up to me to indulge”, Gi-hun whispers, before spreading the flesh of your ass and feasting on you like a man starved.

The sudden intrusion of his tongue in your ring of muscles sends jolts up you. You don’t bother to stop your moans however, there was no point in the guards killing you now.

His grip on you tightens, and you feel yourself reaching your climax, hands struggling to grip anything on the empty wall.

Soon, you release, covering the wall with a pearly white coat. As your breathing slows down, Gi-hun slowly turns you around and stands up, hooking your legs onto his waist.

“You taste like vanilla”, is the only thing he says before his mouth finds yours again.

What neither of you noticed, lost in the haze of lust and desire, was the subtle red light blinking in the far corner of the room—a silent witness to everything that was unfolding.

In the dimly lit surveillance room, the Front Man leaned back in his chair, one of his gloved fingers steepled beneath his chin, while the other was slowly working on his hardened cock. His masked face betrayed no emotion, but the way his head tilted slightly as he watched the screen hinted at a level of interest far beyond casual observation.

The feed showed the two of you, pressed against the wall, your bodies impossibly close as Gi-hun’s hands roamed your sides with an intensity that spoke of need and desperation. Your head tilted back slightly as his lips trailed down your jaw, a quiet gasp escaping your lips that was audible even through the grainy audio.

The Front Man’s fingers tapped the armrest of his chair, his posture unnervingly relaxed as he studied the scene. He could almost feel the tension radiating off the screen, the raw chemistry between you and Gi-hun so palpable it was almost suffocating.

“Well, well,” he murmured to himself, his voice a low rasp beneath the mask. “Looks like the players are getting... creative.”

For a moment, he simply watched, the room silent except for the faint hum of the monitors. His gloved hand reached for the console, his finger hovering over the button that controlled the speaker system. The temptation to interrupt, to see the way you both might react, was almost too great to resist.

But he didn’t press it.

Instead, he leaned forward, his elbow resting on the console as his head tilted slightly. There was something about the way you moved together, the way you clung to each other like lifelines, that held him captive. His mask hid the faint smirk tugging at his lips, a reaction he wasn’t sure he’d ever admit to.

“Maybe I’ll have to... step in,” he groaned quietly, his voice low and laden with suggestion. The idea hung in the air, tantalizing and dangerous.

For now, he let the scene play out, his gaze never leaving the screen and his hand never leaving his length, moving slowly but consistently. But the thought lingered, unspoken yet potent—an invitation he hadn’t decided whether to extend.

© t0jisd0ll on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[luvbatsy]

blood, sweat and tears

genre: smut

pairing: gi-hun x m!reader x in-ho

CW: bottom reader, top gi hun and inho, blowjobs, bathroom sex, threesome, exhibitionism, dacryphillia, fingering (reader receiving), anal, rimming, creampie, reader is taken from both ends, y/n is not used, the usual squid game warnings (blood, gore, etc etc)

word count: 0.8k

The bathroom door clicked shut behind In-ho, sealing the three of you inside a world momentarily free from the horrors of the games. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting a pale glow that accentuated the blood and grime staining your green tracksuits.

Gi-hun stood by the sink, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion as he scrubbed at his arms. “This never gets easier,” he muttered, his voice hoarse from shouting during the chaos.

You stepped closer, reaching out to rest a hand on his back. “We made it through. That’s what matters.”

In-ho approached from behind, his movements fluid and purposeful. He slipped between you and Gi-hun, crowding the two of you against the sink. His hands, warm and calloused, brushed yours as he turned the faucet on again, the icy water cascading over all three of your hands.

“You’re both terrible at cleaning up,” he said, his tone soft but edged with a teasing lilt. He reached for a scrap of cloth hanging by the mirror and dipped it under the stream.

Gi-hun laughed lightly, the sound strained but genuine. “We’ve been a little preoccupied.”

In-ho smirked, turning his attention to you. “Then let me take care of you.”

Before you could respond, he lifted the cloth to your face, his touch gentle but firm as he wiped away a streak of blood near your temple. His other hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your head toward him. His dark eyes held yours, their intensity stealing your breath.

Gi-hun shifted closer, his hand sliding to your hip as he pressed against your side. “He’s thorough, isn’t he?” Gi-hun’s voice was lower now, a hint of playfulness mingling with something deeper.

In-ho’s smirk softened as he set the cloth aside, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I don’t leave things half-done.”

The weight of their attention was intoxicating, their bodies so close you could feel the heat radiating from them. Gi-hun’s hand drifted upward, his fingers curling around the curve of your waist, while In-ho leaned in, his lips just a whisper away from yours.

“Tell us to stop,” In-ho murmured, his voice barely audible. “If this isn’t what you want...”

But you didn’t stop them. Instead, you leaned into Gi-hun’s touch, your other hand reaching for In-ho’s wrist to pull him closer. The tension snapped as In-ho closed the gap, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and consuming.

Gi-hun’s laughter rumbled softly in your ear. “Not fair, hogging him all to yourself,” he teased, before his own lips found the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth that sent shivers down your spine.

“We have to be quick, the guards might show up at any moment”, Gi-hun whispered, alerting you. In-ho seemed relaxed, as he slowly pulled your track pants and boxers down to reveal you aching cock. “Cute.”, he stated. “You can't be saying things like that!”, you blushed, looking down. Gi-hun, held your chin and tilted it towards him for a kiss, while In-ho slowly lifted you up and onto his lap entirely. His fingers circle the rim of your hole, feeling the tight ring of muscle puckering and clenching around nothing. His breath hitches as his fingers pushed past the ring of muscle and into your ass. He could hear you moaning and whimpering from the sudden intrusion.

 Gi-hun took the opportunity to turn you around so that your stomach was facing the ground, and you were looking up at him, all doe-eyed. “Such a pretty thing, " he stated, before pulling down his pants, revealing his leaking cock. You understood, and began to suckle on the angry red tip, giving it kitty licks before taking it down your throat. Gi-hun let out a breathy moan, and held onto your hair, tilting your head in such a way that his length hit the back of your throat at every thrust.

At your other end, In-ho felt that he had prepped you enough, so he stood up and removed his aching cock from its confinements. A glob of his spit fell right on your asshole, leading you to give it a (somewhat) high squeal with Gi-hun’s length still in your mouth.

In-ho slowly pushed his tip inside, which caused your eyes to roll back with pleasure. Gi-hun, seeing this, got turned on even more and his thrusts became more vigorous. “Such a dirty little thing you are, getting off to two men fucking you in a bathroom. I bet you’ll come even without either of us touching your cock, eh?

His degrading words, shot straight to your dick, which was leaking precum for a while. You mumbled around Gi-hun’s cock, while the man was saying the exact opposite of what In-ho said. “You're such a good boy for us, aren’t you? Taking us both like a champ.” You moaned around his dick, and the vibrations around it caused Gi-hun to come undone in your mouth without warning. “Shit– sorry”, he exclaimed, looking at your fucked out face as In-ho was still taking you from behind. In-ho’s thrusting was getting sloppier, and as soon as you came, so did he, painting your gummy walls white.

Your breathing finally slowed down, as In-ho gently turned you around to face the ceiling. As Gi-hun was about to say something, that bathroom stall opened, with a triangle guard standing outside.

“Shit.”

© t0jisd0ll on tumblr. Please do not steal my work as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[luvbatsy]

“ Do you think you’ll kill for me one day? “

“Yes, of course i will my darling..”

Gi-hun!X Male!reader X In-ho!

Genre: Smut

Warnings?: Blood(Ofc its squid game), Blindfolds, reader is restrained, Dacryphilia , Degradation, Double penetrating from both ends,sexual voyeurism, ( guard being a pervert ) Bottom reader!

Player 001 and Player 456,Both mysterious in their own ways,you couldn’t tell if they loved each other or hated each other..And somehow, you managed to get yourself in the middle of them..literally.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at you the same way they did, and no matter how many times you ignored it, the itch never went away.Their eyes forever stamped onto your skin. It was confusing..did you like it..or did you not?.It didn’t matter, in the end you were always seeking their approval. And they gave you it.

The bathroom you stood in was rather clean, probably because it’s only used once a year and by minimum people.The two men practically dragged you with them, Gi-hun murmuring “need to discuss the next game.” Not finding the need to leave, you let yourself get dragged into, realistically, the best night since you got into this shit-hole.

Understandably you were very awkward, especially in this position. The rope ached your wrists, leaving a red mark behind, the musk of blood and sweat inhabited your senses, a black void covered your sight, leaving you ultimately defenceless.Shivering as a rough hand grabbed your chin, a finger soothing your blood dried cheek.

“Look at you..being so obedient for us.” The mellow voice cooed at sight of you,” If only you could see how desperate you are.”

Biting your lip,as it drew blood, you couldn’t respond even if you wanted to.”-Ah ..stop teasing the poor thing.” Gi-hun, your saviour, the one who picked you up on the first game introduced to you and the many others, you owe him your life.And he knew that, although he didn’t want your life, just your body, and who were you to deny such a person like him.

Warm arms picked you up and perched you onto a lap, tight hands embracing you.Heart pounding with excitement, grounding down into the lap beneath you, his hips shuddering, suddenly he gripped your hips, stopping your movements. Tsking , “ You don’t get to decide when to move.-“Nipping at your neck, leaving kisses,he continues.” Only we get to decide your every step.”

Short breaths left you, red faced as they continue to bather you with dirty words and affection.Confusion was written all over your face, lips stuck in a pout.

Gi-hun’s sharp teeth sank into the crane of your neck, licking over the marks he left.Behind you, In-ho continued to grind into you, moving your hips along with his pace.They’re scents made you dizzy, pleasure and irritation flowed inside you,mewling from the amount of attention you received and the little attention for your own release.

“We have to hurry, before we get caught.” You had gotten used to the torment you got from them ,that it surprised you when a pair of cold hands yanked the green joggers down, a gasp left your chapped lips, the pre-cum stained the boxers you worn, leaving the tip cold.

“Come here baby-“ although your sights were removed from you , you stood up ,legs wobbly clinging onto the man you called your saviour. He kissed with passion and love, completely different from the man behind you, who was shoving his pants off, cock sprung and aching for touch.

Removing you from the other , he spat right onto your hole , sliding a finger up and down before shoving it in you without warning. “Mmgh-“ hiding into the crook of gi-hun’s neck, biting down on the sweater he wore, drool labouring down the fabric

“Already undone by just a finger-“ picking up the pace , “-Pathetic slut.” another was added and it continued until you were ready for him. By the time the prep was done , you were a wreck, back arched and tears stained the cloth, spit connecting with whatever you could latch on to hide the mewls you couldn’t hold in.

Being thrown into the stoic man’s lap yet again , his hands guided you down onto his length, giving a second to adjust before he lifted you up, leaving the tip to almost slip out, and then slammed right down again. Head thrown back as he continued to plung in and out , wet noises engulfed the bathroom, leaving whoever was out there to wonder.

Without time to recover, another hand yanked your head down, mouth gapped open allowed the other man ,who was watching before deciding to give in.” I hope you forgive me after this..” you had no clue what he meant, until a few moments passed before something was shoved into your warm mouth, his nails digging into your [h/c] locks, rocking you back and forth to meet in-ho’s harsh thrusts.

Whatever sense you had left was all gone out the window , you didn’t care if someone were to walk in and catch you guys , your cock needed touch, aching and red,and the two didn’t care for your needs.

Part of you wanted to get mad at them for it, but the other obeyed, leaving your tip over flowing with pre-cum.

Spit dripped down onto the floor , the moans leaving you too fast to comprehend the squeaky entrance door opening slightly.

Slaps echoed the room leaving no trace for anything else to be heard. Frankly, the guard hadn’t had a clue on what was happening, why were you guys taking so long. He wasn’t gonna find out , if it wasn’t for the rectangle head to appear, he wouldn’t have.But he was just a lousy triangle.

After being in there for one second, he knew what was happening in that stall. He should be putting his gun up, telling you guys that wasn’t allowed, atleast make himself known.But no, it was like he was in a trance, probably form the lack of attention he didn’t get lately, this damn job didn’t give him time to get laid .

Sneaking as quiet as he can, peeking through the hole, eyes wide at the sight that he interrupted. He landed on you , all messy hair and cock left unattended,oh how he would love to grant you some sweet release. He didn’t know your name, he might as well call you slut,after all that’s what he sees, just a whore allowing himself to be used like a cock sleeve.

Without batting a breathe , he slipped past his briefs and palmed his hard on, biting his lip to refrain himself.

You three were completely unaware of the audience you received, too lost in the temporary bliss.

They were close, you can tell with the way they became sloppy, clenching down onto the length nestled in you to help him finish. Sucking a little hard and repeatedly swallowing. “ You really know -mmh..know -how to drive a man crazy don’t you sweetheart.”

You could come without anyone touching you with their words, you were about to ,until a hand gripped your base with force. Immediately whining and writhing in their grip. How mean.

Without much warning , besides the shuddering of their hips, gi-hun pulled out before slamming back in before he painted you with his cum.The wet warmness from both men made you shiver. Your gummy walls coated white, marking you as theirs.

One last passionate kiss and lingering touches from the both of them and you guys were out of there, ready to take on whatever came your way (literally).

Only problem was, you didn’t have your release. That had you tossing and turning the whole night.

Maybe the guard from earlier would help you.. afterall you weren’t picky.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

AN: ain’t alor of squid game and male readers 😔 so here you go‼️ sorry if it’s bad 🙏

Ps Let me know if I should make more

[luvbatsy]

hey girl more can I request more male reader x bonten 😭 you write so well that my pussy wants to be a dick instead

ꨄBloody Tiesꨄ

Oneshot - Dark Content - Soulmates - Kanto Manji Era - Bonten

❦Who knew your soulmates would be a part of the opposing gangs?❦

Manjiro Sano, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Kokonoi Hajime, Kakucho, and Haitani Brothers x Male Reader

❣︎Been a while since I read the manga so if anything in the timeline is wrong or messed up, I am looking back for reminders but there might be mistakes. Might even change the story a teensy bit❣︎

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, WATTPAD, & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture him as a black male but you can see him however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable.

✩Characters are 18+ as always.

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Bloody Ties

You couldn’t believe it. The outcome of the battle of the three deities had been one of the bloodiest and gruesome gang wars you had ever experienced in your life. You are currently kneeling with one leg on the ground while your arm rests on the other propped knee. Your breathing is ragged and your body hurts. Scars are layered over your skin as well as bruises from the beating you received from the other gangs.

For a while, you had been winning, your gang Brahman holding their own. It was rough but you were getting through it. That is, until the beast who created Kanto Manji finally decided to fight. It was disturbing. The former Toman leader you used to hear so many positive things about had become a purebred monster who wouldn’t hesitate murdering those in his way. Even his loved ones.

You eyed the scene with concern as Senju, your most trusted higher up, offered up everything she built for the sake of saving the life of Takemichi, a weak and yet determined man you had met recently. A former Tokyo Manji member. Although you had seen what the invincible Mikey could do, you were ready to defend your leader to the fullest, ready to pounce if needed as she kneeled in front of the blonde man.

You watched the ground as blood leaked from your nostrils, the drops splattering as your vision became blurry. Everything had been so intense. Even South, the maniac from Rokuhara Tandai had been beaten almost half to death. Honestly you were terrified for your leader having been in the face of death itself. She was too close.

“S-Senju-!” You spit blood through your teeth as you shakily made an attempt to stand on your own two feet, failing in the process. A hand on your shoulder stopped you in the process.

“Stand down. For your own sake.” Akashi states with a stern look on his face, staring at the scene in front of you down. Abruptly, a burning sensation crawls up the chest where your soul marks are embedded within your skin. It caused you to bring a hand to the area as you held on for dear life, eyes shut tight.

Once you open your eyes, your breath hitches as you make eye contact with dark voids. You can only hear your heartbeat as your eyes widen. You notice the holographic red tie that connects both of your chests throughout the distance.

No.

No, no, no!

You watch as five more red ribbons spread all around you. Having been too focused on the main person that stood at a distance in front of you, the shocked expressions of the other five were missed.

“This can’t be!” You breathe out as the ribbons disappear. Akashi looks down at you with confusion. Nobody else could see the ties that had just appeared. Only the person and their soulmates are able to see their ribbons. The only thing others can see is the mark embedded within your skin. You watch in horror as the blonde man who wore no expression on his face walks towards you.

You used Akashi’s arm to try and reach your feet, but you were still too weak to make your goal.

“Fuck!” You hissed as Mikey got closer. Before he could reach you, Akashi took a stance in front of you.

“Mikey! We already disbanded our gang! Let it go!” He had no idea why Mikey was coming towards you. He knew he had to put a stop to it.

Once Akashi held his arms up, Mikey quickly stomped his stomach, causing the man to drop to his knees. As he kicked his face to the side, Kokonoi stood on the sidelines watching with sweat trickling down his concerned expression.

“Mikey! That’s enough, okay?!” He yells out to his leader in desperation not for Akashi, but for your safety. His soulmate’s safety. The last thing he expected was for you to present in Brahman. He thought his soulmate died in a fire.

Kakucho hangs onto Ran from the side, breathing heavily as the bewilderment of the presentation wears off. The Haitani brothers watch the display with their droopy eyes opening in realization of your ties. They’ve never even noticed you before so how could this be?

Sanzu stands, pipe hanging from his hand as he stares with heavy lids and an expressionless face. Who even are you? Why hadn’t you presented earlier? Maybe you hadn’t been around until Brahman came about. He didn’t understand and was honestly too exhausted at the moment to even try. Mikey continues to kick Akashi before you attempt to stand from kneeling again.

“You fucking freak! Stop it!” You yell, attempting to lunge at Mikey only to fall over pathetically from your worn out body. You land on your hands and knees as Akashi finally falls over, knocked out cold.

Mikey crouched down before grabbing the collar of your uniform and pulling you up, feet hanging off the ground as he looked up at you. Senju runs to your aid, but before she can make it a pipe meets with her head before she falls back, a large bruise forming from the impact. Her skin splits and blood drips down her forehead.

“You stay out of this.”

Sanzu only glanced at her with disgust before his attention turned back to you. Pulling back his free arm, Mikey aims to punch your face before your hand lands on the hand holding your shirt up as you brace yourself for impact, shutting your eyes in the process and turning your head. You feel nothing before you’re dropped to the ground, landing on your behind before you look up in confusion. You stare at Mikey’s back after he turns away.

“We’re done here.”

Your vision blackens before you fall back in exhaustion, eyes rolling behind your head.

A bright light enters your vicinity as your eyes blink open. You hear beeping to the side and eye your surroundings to see that you’re lying in a hospital bed.

“You’re awake.” You hear a sigh of relief to the side of you. Turning your head, your eyes meet with the notorious money maker of the gangs. Kokonoi Hajime. You felt the burning in your chest once more as the ribbon appeared in front of you. Your eyes widen. He must be one of the other five ties.

You felt him gently grab your hand before bringing the fingers to his lips as he leaned on the bed with his head faced down.

“I was worried.” Your eyebrows furrow slightly. As much as you want to relish within your soulmate’s embrace, you couldn’t ignore the gang he had chosen. His poor judgement and enabling behavior almost led to countless deaths.

“Look Kokon-.”

“Hajime. Please, call me Hajime.” His grip tightened slightly against your fingers before you cleared your throat.

“Hajime. I would love to give you a chance. I really want to, but I can’t accept your choices when it comes to that sadistic gang you’re in.” You frown. A scowl forms on his face at your statement before he releases your hand.

“I get it, Y/n. I really do. I only ask that you try to understand my proposition. I will always choose the winning side.” You both make eye contact as he informs you of his reasonings. You shook your head in response. He released a sigh before fingers met with the bridge of his nose.

“There’s no reason for this topic of conversation. You don’t really have a choice but to accept the conditions. I’m not your only soul tie, right?” You eye him with a look of suspicion.

“It’s only a matter of time before you’re brought home. You might as well accept your circumstances now.” Your eyes widen at his statement.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You scowl in return. He sighs once more before crossing his arms and legs over the other. He leaned back in the chair before looking you in the eye.

“All of your soulmates are in the same gang. The Haitani brothers and Kakucho have now joined the Kanto Manji Gang. Soon, we will form a bigger organization and dive deeper into the industry. You’ll have to be right there with us.” You gasp before sitting up from your seat.

The memories from the last few days are embedded within your mind. Draken’s death. Mikey’s ruthlessness. The gruesome and disturbing acts of that day. Your gang disbanding for the sake of saving a life. Hell no. You won’t go down so easily. Fuck the status. Fuck the gods and fuck your soul ties. They made a huge mistake.

“I refuse to accept your conditions. I refuse to be a part of anything you do. I am sickened by the actions performed by your group. I will never be a part of something so evil. You all lost what it means to be a true delinquent.” Kokonoi shook his head before releasing a slight chuckle.

“You need to grow up, Y/n.” He stands from the chair and walks towards the door to your room. “I suggest you get a grip because we’re coming back for you soon.” You were left to yourself after the door clicks shut.

Once you were released from the hospital a few weeks later, you decided to visit Senju and Akashi at your old meetup. There had been a slightly grim atmosphere after everyone physically healed from the intense battle. Fortunately, the rest of your friends were alive. Today, when you informed your higher ups of the situation with your soulmates, they could only eye you with surprise.

“He really said that?” Senju asked.

“Yeah.” You respond with your head down.

“What are you gonna do?” Akashi asked with his arms resting on his lap, legs spread with feet on the floor as he leaned over in his seat.

“I don’t know, but I can’t accept this.” You huff out. You’ve never been big on soulmates in the first place. Forcefully tied to random people that were destined from the start instead of it being your own choice did not sound enticing. Especially six of them. Akashi sighed in response.

“You should probably make it easier for yourself and accept your mates.” He smirked. “You have my blessing.”

Both you and Senju’s eyes widened.

“You can’t be serious, Takeomi! That’s a death sentence!” Senju exclaims in frustration with her brother.

“They’re not gonna kill their mate. It’s honestly the safest bet for you anyway, Y/n. At least you’ll be protected.”

“Protected? More like owned. They didn’t even give me a choice. They were gonna let me die by Mikey’s hand!” You respond with an expression of anger before standing from your seat.

“Have you lost your mind?” Senju asked Takeomi with her hands placed on her hips. “You already know how twisted our brother is!”

“I gave you my answer.”

You scanned the book’s barcode before placing it in the correct area of the aisle. Although you’re a delinquent by heart, you’ve always enjoyed reading. Which is why you got a part time job at the public library. Pushing the cart down the aisle and turning the corner, you entered another before grabbing another book and scanning it before placing it correctly. You gasp once you feel a burning sensation in your chest before turning around. Once you swiftly round your body, you’re met face to face with heterochromia eyes and a finger to your lips.

“Mikey’s impatient. You need to make up your mind.” You snatch his hand away from your mouth and turn to the side to ignore him, continuing with your job before he forces you against the aisle with hands on your shoulders. The quick movement caused the book and the scanner to fall out of your hand.

“What the fuck, Kakucho!” You quietly exclaim, not wanting to make a lot of noise in the library. One of his arms bends above your head while the other one grabs your chin. Your face heats up at the intimacy and you avoid eye contact.

“I’m impatient, Y/n.” He whispered. “Punishing us for your losses will only make things harder for you.” The grip on your chin tightens as he forces you to look at him. “We’re being nice. You’re lucky Mikey hasn’t come after you himself.” One of your hands grabs his wrist as you give him a scowl.

“What’s up with all the ultimatums? I have a say on whether or not I want to accept and I don’t.” You spat quietly.

“That’s your problem. You think you have a choice. The only reason we haven’t caught you yet is because we’re giving you a chance to come willingly. We don’t have to be in a relationship. Soulmates need each other to survive and unfortunately for you, you are our life source. If you don’t come on your own, we will just take you.” It’s indeed true. Soulmates don’t have to be romantic, platonic, or form any emotional bonds. It can be a simple contract between individuals as a way to feed onto each other.

You’re more than willing to give it up as it’s not a need unless one is desperate for it. Sadly for you, your mates seem to have an obsession with growth, power, and greed so they need you to survive. They need your life source to become stronger. You watch in concern as his eyes shift to your neck. You attempt to shove him off of you, only to be overpowered by the tight grip on your chin.

In order to complete the bond, one’s DNA must merge with the other through their neck and teeth. You can tell he’s contemplating, but you know that he must have permission from Mikey, his leader.

“Fuck.” Kakucho hissed before diving in. Instead of using teeth, he begins to suck the skin of your neck. Your body is frozen under his grip as you feel the wet sensation tickle your skin. It sends shivers down your spine as you tense, your neck being a very sensitive spot on your body. Your face heats up as both of your hands hold onto his shoulders.

“K-Kakucho…st-.” You were cut off by the holographic red tie wrapping both of your bodies around each other, locking you into the hold before it disappears. The feeling of his tongue gliding up your neck before kissing down again to suck in the same spot began to warm your lower stomach. The room felt hot and you could feel your pants tightening. The arm that was above your head reaches your lower back. It felt like something was sucking the energy out of you causing your legs to weaken.

He uses the hand on your chin to lift your head all the way back as he moves to the front of your neck where your adam’s apple rests, slowly licking up the skin before kissing back down again and moving to the other side of your neck.

“Stop!” You hissed, coming back to your senses as he lets you shove him back. “You can’t just feed from me when you want to! I still don’t accept the conditions and I will fucking not. Now get away from me!” You pick up the scanner and book you dropped earlier and grab your cart and rush away from him, leaving the energy sucker standing by himself as you ignore your own hard on.

A few days have passed since the library incident. You couldn’t help but feel like you’re being watched every step you take. Whether it be in your own apartment or outside in public. The security you used to feel has almost deteriorated. Your paranoia is constantly growing day by day, to the point it’s almost unbearable. You’re honestly nervous.

You had invited a former Brahman gang member who’s always been a close friend of yours to your apartment so when you heard someone knocking on your door, you headed over to invite him in. You couldn’t help the unexplainable anxious feeling you got when the familiar burning sensation on your chest began. You shake it off before twisting the doorknob and pulling it in.

You gasp at the sight when the door opens. In your view was your friend in a bloody mess with half his body lying on the sidewalk and the collar of his shirt in the culprit’s hand. Standing there was Haitani Ran, twisting the braid in his hand with his baton placed over his shoulder by his other. Rin stood beside him with a grip on the knocked out guy and a hand on his hip. Both had their infamous laid back expressions and only began to grow a sly smile when they saw you.

“Yo, Y/n. Who’s this kid?” Ran greets as he steps into the apartment, pushing you aside. Rin followed behind after dropping the injured man in front of your doorway. You move forward to crouch down at the body.

“F/n! Are you ali-?” You were cut off by your own shirt being pulled back before the front door slammed shut. You swatt the hand off angrily as you turn towards the brothers.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” You exclaim at them, your fingers spread and hands open as you make a stressed gesture.

“No seriously, who was that dude? Why was he at your door?” Rin reiterated his older brother’s question as they gave you unimpressed looks.

“He’s just a close fr-! Actually that’s none of your fucking business. Get out of my house!” You point towards the door. You look at the hand that’s just been placed on your head.

“What’s with all the hostility? Relax.” Ran cooed with a smirk, pretending to be clueless of the circumstances.

“Anyway, we came to pick you up.” Rin states, crossing his arms. You raised an eyebrow.

“What the hell are you talking about? Nobody’s taking me anywhere.” You argue. A sigh came out of Ran’s mouth before he locked an arm with yours as well as his brother doing the same with your opposite arm. You struggle against the hold as they walk you to your couch.

“Those marks on his neck says someone got to feed from him before us.” Rin said to his brother.

“I agree brother. I think it’s time for us to get a little taste of what our mate has to offer.” Your eyes widen at the holographic ribbons wrapping around you three right before it disappears.

Reaching the couch, Rin pulls you on his lap before his arms wrap around your waist. One hand reached around your neck as he held you from behind. You helplessly watch as Ran pulls down your pants, bulge showing through your underwear.

“Shit! Put them back!” You feel the burning sensation on your chest again, this time flowing down to your lower stomach. With his knees connected to the floor, Ran pulls your shaft and testicles out of your restraints. You reach for his braids and yank him back, only for his face to heat up and a smile to reach his face.

“I guess I shouldn’t make it too easy for ya.” He says before undoing his braids and using the straps to pull his hair back into a ponytail, one strand falling in front of his face.

“W-wait!” You say before you feel Rin wrap his arm around your arms, trapping them within the hold of your waist. You tense when you feel warm lips connect with your outer ear.

“Hard already?” Ran says as he uses his index finger to rub along the bottom lining vein on your cock, causing a twitch from you as you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Four fingers go under your ball sack as his thumb stays up front, slightly squeezing the flesh as he wrapped his other hand around your cock, thumb still rubbing the bottom vein this time focusing on the tip.

“Jesus.” You breathe out. “Just let me go.” The hand around your neck reached your mouth and cupped your lips while the tongue ran up your ear before sucking the earlobe, causing shivers to run down your back at the delicate contact.

Your body freezes once you feel the wet muscle glide all the way from your base to the tip of your cock before you are suddenly engulfed fully, purple eyes gazing at you from below. Your face heats up as your stomach burns from the sensations.

Ran pulls his head back before sucking on your tip slowly, enjoying the way your cock twitches constantly with each suckle, all the while his hand continues to massage your testicles. Your head falls back as you keep your hips from moving upward. Your eyes shut tightly as Rin moves his lips to your neck, sucking harder than Kakucho did in the library, definitely aiming to leave darker marks. It feels as though both of them are sucking the life source out of you, literally. You feel your body weaken at the actions of your mates. You could feel Rin’s hard on stabbing you through his pants.

The older Haitani moans as he continues to tease you through sucking your head, still looking up at you. He slowly engulfs you once more, lips meeting your base before pulling back, repeating the process over and over again as he speeds his pace each time. This time you couldn’t hold back from the slight buck of your hips with each contact his lips made with the base of your cock.

To avoid any more eye contact, you look at the ceiling as you feel Rin slightly lift his hard on against you before sucking your neck harder, causing a little bit of pain to appear. You could tell he was holding back from biting you. You felt Rans lips circle around the head of your cock once more, this time sucking harder and faster as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. Before you could release your load, your front door slams open, almost breaking off the hinges.

“Knew it, fucking sluts.” Sanzu spits at them before walking towards you, katana hanging from his hand. Ran engulfs you one more time before pulling back with a pop and releasing your balls. Your cock is left tense from the lack of an orgasm, left right on the edge and it hurts. It didn’t mix well with the new sensation burning your chest, this time more painful than the others.

“Put his pants back on and let’s go. Mikey doesn’t like to wait.” The male with the pink ponytail demands before crossing his arms and watching you as you push your cock back in your underwear and snatch your pants from the floor, swiftly dressing yourself.

“I’m not going anywhere! All of you need to leave!” You exclaim before the end of the katana was close to your forehead.

“I’m not gonna tell ya again, Y/n. Let’s go.” Sanzu demanded with a half lidded gaze, mania still prominent within his irises. You stare at him for a moment before following along the Haitani brothers while Sanzu walks behind you with the weapon to your back.

“Awe he’s following like a good puppy!” Rin beamed as he teased you, looking to piss you off. You angrily scowl at the back of his head as you continue to walk to the car. Passing the bloody spot you wonder where your friend went and if he had run off.

“Oi, Sanzu. You should really get a taste of him, or are you gonna wait till Mikey gives you permission?” Ran pulls the strap from his hair as he rebraids his strands, a smirk on his face as he teases Sanzu from the passenger seat. Rin turns the wheel as he guides the car down the road.

“Shut up. Mikey doesn’t care anyway, as long as we don’t bite him yet.” Sanzu said next to you with his arms crossed. You try to tune them out, your own arms crossed glaring out of the window. That’s why you don’t see when the pink haired sadist unbuckled your belt and snatched your arm. Your head falls to his lap before his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. Your eyes widen in response as you grab the wrist that’s closest to your neck.

He pulls you, forcing your lips to meet his. Both of your lips shape the other perfectly as he moves his mouth against you, teeth scraping your lip before his tongue passes your teeth. He continues to choke you, making it hard to breathe and your face to heat up. You eye the ribbon wrapping around you both, strapping you in place before it disappears. He moaned when you felt the energy being transferred from your life source to his. It caused you to weaken in his hold. You accidentally released a small whimper before he released you, falling against his lap once more as your blurry vision made it harder to come back to reality, saliva running down your chin.

Soul ties are a bitch for the person at the center of it all when there’s more than two individuals. Not unless everyone actually cares about each other enough to fill each life source equally. Since there’s no fair share nor an agreement of some sort, they’re all just taking your energy from you. Surprisingly Sanzu didn’t push you off, he just couldn’t stop staring at your lips while breathing hard. Not until you reached your destination in front of their Kanto Manji headquarters.

You were yanked up and dragged out of the car, forcing you to stand outside before you all headed inside the building. As you went up the elevator and made it to the correct hallway, the beating in your chest became fast. The burning sensation becoming stronger the closer you got to the correct room didn’t help at all. You were truly nervous and had no idea how this was going to go.

When you finally made it to the room, you were forced inside. You saw Kokonoi sitting on the left of a long couch that rounded the large table in the middle. He sat with his hands on his lap as he looked ahead before he turned his head and your eyes met. Next to him sat Kakucho, one of his arms on the back of the sofa as he man spread. He wore a frown on his face, turning to you with an intimidating gaze.

You were left standing at the opposite table as Sanzu and the Haitani brothers took their seats at the right side of the couch. Finally your gaze fixed on the man of the hour, the blonde sitting in the middle of the couch with his arms resting on his lap. He had a dark expression on his face and when his eyes met yours the burning sensation in your chest almost became unbearable.

Your fingers twitched before you placed your hand on your chest. Your eyes widened. The atmosphere almost made it hard to breathe in this room. It was insanely awkward and uncomfortable, watching as everyone sized you up from their seats like you were supposed to put on some kind of performance.

You could see the red tie making a tree shape as all the ribbons connected straight to your chest before disappearing. The soul ties are already so strong and they have yet to even fully bond you to them. It’s intimidating, terrifying even. You knew that once it happened, there was no going back. You had to cut these ties immediately. If only their boss wasn’t so fucking scary.

“I want to cut our ties immediately. I don’t agree with the way any of you handle things. You’re ruthless and uncaring. You only want to use me for your benefit and I refuse. I am not someone you can just use. I want real happiness and connection with my soulmate and I know that I will not receive that from any of you. We are not a good match and I recommend you find someone else.” You tried. You really did try to stay tough throughout your speech. Honestly, you were surprised you even got as far as you did. Especially without any tears.

The silence was deafening, suffocating even. They held no expressions on their faces but the same ones you saw when you came in. They weren’t moved nor changeable by what you said. It was as if what you spoke hadn’t made any difference with their mindset. After all, it is the majority vs you. You’re not dumb. They could easily overpower you, but you had to try anyway. That way you could never say you hadn’t ever tried to save yourself. And you’ll continue for as long as possible. Right now you have to face them. Face him.

“Come ere’.” You hear Mikey demand. You almost jolted from your stance, thrown off by him speaking at all. Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw how all entrances to the couch had been blocked off so you have no idea what he wants you to do. Eyeing him with confusion after shifting your focus, he seems to lean over in his seat more with a threatening gaze forming on his face.

“The table. Crawl.” Your eyes widen, face already heating up. No way.

“N-no. I don’t want to do that.” You say in disbelief, desperate to retain some dignity after all the escapades from the past few days. You needed some kind of control. Some kind of comfort that everything was going to be okay. If you give in now, everything might as well be set in motion.

Kokonoi frowned while his fingers met his forehead. You’re going to give him a headache. You really are. Why not just submit and save yourself the hassle? You’re going to be forced to anyway. Sanzu’s teeth grits as he wonders what in your right mind made you think that you could defy his leader’s orders. Kakucho and the Haitani brothers just watch the display quietly with no expression on their faces.

“Five seconds.” Your breath hitched. A countdown?! Really?!

“In five seconds you’ll tell me which limb you want me to break.” Mikey states nonchalantly. You could die right now. His gaze is serious and everyone in the room knows that he’s not playing around. You wondered if there was a way you could run out of the room, but you knew you couldn’t outrun all of them.

“Fuck.” You hissed.

“Five.”

Do you listen or attempt to make a run for it?

“Four.”

What… what should you do? Either way, this shit is so embarrassing.

“Three.”

I mean what the fuck are you? A child being scolded by an abusive parent?!

“Two.”

Fuck!

Finally you bend over and put one knee on the table. The countdown halts as you begin to bring your other knee onto the table. This is so humiliating. Especially as a fucking delinquent. To get it over with faster, you push through and begin to crawl a little faster to get to the end of the table.

“Slower.”

Is he trying to humiliate you?! It seems like it. Clearly he wants you to know who’s in charge. This has to be some kind of dominance battle of some sort. You comply, avoiding eye contact with everyone even though you felt their piercing gazes. Please, please, please let this be over soon.

You pause once you finally reach the end of the table. Now you’re staring at each other head on while you await his next commands. Your eyebrows raise when you see a small smirk form on his face. You’ve never seen this man smile before, and you wish it would’ve continued that way because you’ve never seen such a smile that holds that much evil in your life. He was enjoying this.

He pats his lap, gesturing for you to take a seat. Your eyebrows furrowed. You hadn’t wanted to, but you’d be left on your hands and knees displayed on the table so you move to take your position. You awkwardly sit there with one of his arms circling your waist as well as the other reaching your neck, mocking Rin’s position from earlier as you're forced to face everyone in the room, and they were definitely watching.

You gasp when he unbuckles your pants with one hand and reaches inside your underwear, gripping the cock that had just sprung to life. His other hand reaches your jaw and cups your opposite cheek before forcing your head all the way to the side, exposing your neck.

“Wait! Mikey, don’t do this!” You cry out before he tugs your shaft and lips reach your neck. It was so quick it almost gave you whiplash once he shoved his fangs in your neck. The pain had your eyes shot as you shifted uncomfortably on his lap, the holographic ribbon wrapping around both of you snugly, keeping you in place once more. Blood leaks down your neck, reaching your shirt as it stained the fabric. He continued to suck from you, something mates usually don’t do when they bite.

The other men watch with intrigue, awaiting their turn for the claim to finally have their life source in their clutches. Their power source. Their soulmate. Somehow, you have a lot of pre-cum dripping down your groin that wasn’t dried from earlier. Mikey uses it to rub along, ultimately giving you an intense handjob. You watch as the ribbons appear once more, all tied to you as well as the one still wrapped around your body. This time, the one coming from Mikey changes to black.

Your vision begins to blur as you feel the pressure on your cock engulfing the shaft and the head. Your body weakens in his hold as he continues sucking your life source, forcing a euphoric feeling from the heaviness of the movement of his hand and the lips against your neck. Your own moans sound so distant that you hadn’t even realized you were releasing that sound. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you almost lose consciousness, body tensing right before you’re brought to a hard orgasm. You shoot loads of cum into your underwear.

Mikey removed his teeth from your skin, licking up the blood that hadn’t dried from your wound as he continued hand fucking you through your orgasm.

“Messy.” He states quietly against your ear. You’re not sure if it’s because of all the cum or blood, but one thing for sure is that you feel like you want to pass out.

The rest of the men in the room are surely turned on by the display. The blood running down your throat, your moaning, the shifting of your body. Everything about that scene was divinely delicious. They all knew that they had to wait their turn, and wait patiently, they did.

A few moments later when you were barely pulled out of your trance, you felt your body rocking as you had been forced into a doggystyle position, a cock standing right under your face as you felt your own being sucked from under. A numb pain was shooting through your back as you felt a thickness stretching you from behind. Someone is also kneeling on top of the person in front of you with their cock right in front of your face. Ribbons were wrapped and swirling everywhere, entrapping you within the grasps of your soulmates. There’s major pain all over your neck, causing you to feel all the bite marks that had been made with your hand.

“Holy hell.” You breathe out as you feel a sharp impact on your prostate, as well as the mouth on your cock tightening. You looked to the side and saw that Mikey and two of your other soulmates sat watching the display. The black ribbon still connects between you and Mikey as he sits with an expressionless gaze, though the red on his face tells you everything you need to know. Your gaze falls back down as the person behind you starts fucking into you harder, darkness engulfing you again as you feel the energy literally being sucked out of your body.

It’s been years of pure hell. Your soulmates have become more ruthless since Bonten was created. Of course, they forced you into the criminal organization along with them, someone always accompanying you at missions and meetings. You didn’t really have to do a thing for the most part until they forced you to kill or torture someone for fun, though that was mostly Sanzu and the Haitani brothers.

You can’t believe Akashi joined and you always wondered why. You also wondered how Senju and your close friends were doing. Too bad you were always strapped to someone’s tie. You were rarely allowed to leave headquarters and when you did it was only for the missions and the clubs. It feels like it’s been a while since you’ve seen society or the sun except from a penthouse window. It was depressing.

You’re currently wrapped in blankets in a dark bedroom with an arm over your waist. The man is spooning you from behind all the while you stare straight ahead.

“Go to sleep.” Mikey’s husky voice reached your ear, feeling his hot breath as the black ribbon tightened around your bodies. You shut your eyes in response, awaiting for the deep slumber to take you from this reality.

[luvbatsy]

Pairing:: ##alpha!sanzu haruchiyo x omega!m!reader

warnings ;; NSFW, omegaverse, freaky sanzu, multiple creampies, ear licking (1), squirting, semi-public sex (kinda, sorta), mpreg, knotting, breeding, Reader has both genitals but is AMAB, short

A/N: first time posting, kinda nervous!! >< (also, I'm not good w smut, but i tried

Sanzu held onto the man's hips, and he plopped him up and down on his dick.

A creamy ring formed at the base of Sanzu's dick after he knotted his omega about 3 times so far.

The two were trying for a kid.

Sanzu growled as the sopping wet hole gripped around him like its life depended on it.

[Name] had his arms wrapped around his husband's neck as the two sloppily made out.

'FWAP!' , 'FWAP!' , 'FWAP!'

The two moaned in unison as Sanzu emptied himself inside for the 4th time, stuffing [Name] up and full of his offspring.

[Name] let out a high squeal followed by a soft moan as he came, cum shooting out his dick as he squirted around Sanzu; covering his dick in the juices from his pussy.

The two laid there and caught their breathes as Sanzu's knot would take a minute to calm down.

Soon he pinned his lover down onto the bed and continuously rammed into him.

He was addicted to [Name] and his pussy. He couldn't stop thrusting his knot into the man who was below him.

"Mmm.. f-..fhuckk— your pussy feels so ghood!—" Sanzu slurred.

The bed creaked and jammed against the thin walls of the cheap motel.

At this point, they could care less if anyone heard them. The squelching of cum and slick was heard as Sanzu sped up his pace.

[Name] could only whimper and whine under him as his world was rocked.

[Name] had his legs held up from behind his knees as he was folded into a mating press, squeals and thrills leaving his mouth as Sanzu hit his sweet spots dead on.

[Name] clenched around him as he came once more and squirted slick around Sanzu's dick.

Sanzu's dick was covered in cum and slick as multiple of his veins rubbed the gummy, wet velvet walls of [Name].

[Name]'s ears and cheeks turned a flustered pink/red as his mate groaned and panted into his ear, licking it in the process as well.

The two wouldn't stop until [Name] looked stuffed enough and full of cum.