#Character Drabble

[senjutsunade]

~ Reunions and Sarcasm ~

Note: Drabble based on this HC: ➤ Tsunade was temporary sensei of the Inoichi, Shikaku and Choza's gennin team while their sensei was recovering from a bad injury. She led the cell for a month. P.s. Choza's her favorite. He wasn't a little shit unlike the other two. The fact that he shared his snacks with her has nothing to do with this.

The click of the sliding door signaled Shizune’s departure, her parting bow prim and proper—always too prim, Tsunade thought with a sigh. The meeting had ended cleanly enough: mission reports, proposed adjustments to Jōnin rotations, some talk of intelligence restructuring. Boring. Necessary. Not what she wanted to be doing two days into the hat she’d tried to refuse three times.

Now it was just them.

The door settled back into place with a dull thud, and the silence that followed was immediate and suffocating. Tsunade leaned back in her seat at the head of the table, brow arching. Across from her stood Yamanaka Inoichi—head of the Analysis Unit, still pretty as a portrait, still awkward as hell—and Nara Shikaku, now Jōnin Commander, hair tied back, lazy smirk already blooming like some weed refusing to die.

Neither of them moved.

She stared.

They stared back.

Inoichi cleared his throat.

Tsunade blinked slowly, then said flatly, “Well, I’ll be damned. The brats grew up.”

Inoichi groaned immediately, dragging a hand down his face like he’d been waiting decades for that exact line to drop. “Please don’t start.”

Tsunade tilted her chin, eyes gleaming with barely restrained amusement. “Why not? It's the only reason I didn’t fake a coma halfway through that meeting. Watching you both pretend to be dignified almost gave me a stroke.”

Shikaku exhaled through his nose in a slow, drawn-out chuckle. “Come now, Tsunade-sama. We’re professionals now. Fully competent. Respected. Responsible.” He emphasized the last word like it tasted funny.

She gave him a long, pitying look. “You once tried to seduce a kunoichi from Kumo during a treaty negotiation by pretending you were a traveling poet.” “That was diplomatic outreach,” Shikaku countered smoothly.“And she was genuinely moved by my haiku.”

Tsunade snorted. “She set your pants on fire.”

“Passion burns bright in foreign affairs.”

“Idiocy does too.”

Inoichi made a strangled noise and finally lowered himself into one of the side chairs, rubbing at his temples. “Why do I feel twelve again? Every time you look at us, it’s like I’m going to get another few laps added to training.”

Tsunade raised her cup of tea—cold now—and offered him a mock salute. “Good instincts. If I remember right, you still owe me fifty push-ups for blowing up a lab.”

“That was Shikaku’s plan,” Inoichi muttered. “I was just the decoy.”

Shikaku grinned. “Ah, memories.”

“And you—” Tsunade jabbed a finger toward him, “—used to flirt so hard with every nurse in the hospital wing I nearly banned you by name.”

“It’s called charisma.”

“It’s called being clinically allergic to shame.”

She stood, robes swishing as she rounded the desk. They stepped aside instinctively, still reacting like genin under her command. Tsunade paused between them, arms crossed loosely, the Hokage’s mantle weightless on her shoulders—for this moment, at least.

“You two ran me ragged back then. I’m still not convinced assigning me to your team wasn’t a punishment from above.”

“You adored us,” Shikaku said lightly.

“I tolerated you because watching you trip over yourselves gave me serotonin.”

Inoichi looked up at her with a tired smile. “Still does, doesn’t it?”

Tsunade’s smirk was pure venomous fondness. “Absolutely.”

Shikaku opened his mouth, probably to say something wildly inappropriate, but she cut him off with a raised hand. “Say one word about how you’ve ‘aged like fine wine,’ and I’m personally assigning you to lead genin patrol in the forest with nothing but a dull kunai and a flare.”

His mouth closed with a click.

Inoichi laughed quietly. “Good to have you back, Tsunade-san.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she said, breezing past them. “But if either of you spills the story about Shikaku falling into the female side of the hot onsen in nothing but his underwear, I might just fast-track your requested funding.”

The door slid shut behind her.

“…She still remembers that?” Shikaku asked after a long pause.

Inoichi didn’t look up. “She weaponized the memory. We’re doomed.”

[immortalmuses]

Peeta Mellark | Homecoming

ㅤㅤㅤPeeta's  not  too  proud  to  admit  that  he  sulked  for  nearly  a  week  after  they  returned  home  to  District  12,  following  the  events  of  the  Games. 

ㅤㅤㅤThe  district  gives  him  a  house  in  the  Victor's  Village  that  has  never  even  been  lived  in.  It's  huge  in  comparison  to  the  tiny  back  bedroom  he'd  shared  with  his  middle  brother  in  their  home  above  the  bakery.  And  it's  made  larger  and  more  foreign  by  the  feeling  that  he  hasn't  even earned it.  That  he  shouldn't  even  be  here,  alive,  in  a  world  where  people  fetishize  his  feelings  for  someone  who  has  to pretend to  love  him  back. 

ㅤㅤㅤ…  So,  yeah.  He's  a  little  bitter.

ㅤㅤㅤAnd  unlike  Katniss's  sister  and  mother,  none  of  Peeta's  family  show  much  interest  in  joining  him  in  his  house  at  Victor's  Village.  They  come  to  visit  him  (because  it  would  seem  strange  if  they  didn't),  and  his  brothers  are  complimentary  of  his  winnings  if  not  of  his  performance  in  the  Games  themselves.  There's  some  ribbing  about  how  much  he  needed  to  be saved  by  Katniss,  and  Peeta  --  already  well-versed  in  being the  youngest --  doesn't  even  try  to  defend  himself.  What's  there  to  defend,  anyway?  Katniss  saved  his  life  multiple  times  over.  Everyone  in  all  of  Panem  knows  about  how  she  nearly  got  herself killed  trying  to  keep  him  alive…. 

ㅤㅤㅤ(And  for  what?  She  still  doesn't  love  you.)

ㅤㅤㅤHis  parents  are…  stiff.  Granted,  the  Mellark  household  has  never  overflowed  with  familial  warmth,  but  Peeta  knows  that  his  parents  care  for  him  in  their  own  way.  His  father's  even  more  quiet  than  his  norm,  something  awkward  and  detached  about  the  way  he  stands  in  the  receiving  room  of  the  opulent  Victor's  house.  The  kitchen  here  is  probably  modest  by  Capitol  standards,  but  it  far  outshines  anything  in  District  12,  even  the  bakery's  reasonably-stocked  galley.  Peeta  had  thought…  maybe…  his  dad  would  want  to  see  it? 

ㅤㅤㅤBut  for  all  that  he  was  born  in  town,  Otho  Mellark's  never  shown  any  particular  interested  in  what  few  small  luxuries  could  be  afforded  by  the  merchant  class,  and  he  seems  utterly  uninterested  in  his  Victor  son's  sudden  affluence. 

ㅤㅤㅤPeeta  isn't  sure  if  he's  disappointed  or relieved by  that. 

ㅤㅤㅤHis  mother,  on  the  other  hand,  is  almost  outright hostile.  She's  never  had  much  tolerance  for  him,  even  when  he  was  a  child.  Perhaps  giving  birth  to  two  boys  before  Peeta  had  exhausted  whatever  patience  she  was  born  with,  leaving  her  perpetually  exasperated  by  all  of  the  youngest  Mellark's  missteps.  But  surely  she  can  at  least  be  happy  at  his  return,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  it  means  she'll  reap  the  financial  benefits  of  his  victory?  Instead,  Peeta's  mother  seems  angry  at  him  for  his  win.  For  daring  to  survive  when  she  clearly  didn't  expect  him  to.  For  having  so  much  of  that  survival  tied  up  with  Katniss  Everdee--

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOh.  Oh no. 

ㅤㅤㅤUntil  recently,  Peeta  had  forgotten  much  of  what  he  and  Katniss  talked  about  while  hiding  out  in  that  arena  cave.  Well…  not forgotten,  really  (there  were  some  pretty  memorable  moments),  but  his  recollection  of  it  was  partially  obscured  by  a  haze  of  fever  and  pain  and  hunger.  And  Peeta  tries  not  to  think  too  much  about  some  of  the  more  vulnerable  things  he'd  said  because  now  it  feels  so foolish,  makes  his  throat  close  up  with  embarrassment. 

ㅤㅤㅤBut  he  does  remember,  with  ill-timed  clarity,  how  he'd  revealed  his  earliest  memory  of  Katniss,  and  in  the  process  betrayed  his  father's  secret  about  her  mom.  How  they  both  had  lost  their  hearts  to  women  who  would  never  love  them.  And  how  all  of  Panem  had  most certainly  been  watching  when  he'd  admitted  to  it. 

ㅤㅤㅤIncluding  his  Mother… 

ㅤㅤㅤPeeta  always  had  a  feeling  that  someone  reaped  couldn't  come  home  from  the  Hunger  Games  and  just  pick  up  where  they'd  left  off.  Everything  about  the  experience,  about surviving, is  designed  to  change  a  person  irrevocably.  To  make  them  no  longer  fit  into  the  life  they'd  had  before.  Like  a  puzzle  piece  warped  by  inclement  weather,  forever  unable  to  complete  the  picture  it  had  once  been  a  seamless  part  of.  Haymitch  couldn't  have  always  been  the  slovenly,  self-destructive  drunkard  he  is  today.  He  couldn't  have  always  been  as alone  as  he  is  now…

ㅤㅤㅤBut  standing  at  the  window  of  his  bedroom  in  this  cavernous, empty  house,  Peeta  thinks  of  the  echoing  emptiness  of  Victor's  Village.  He  thinks  of  his  father's  silence  and  his  mother's  anger.  He  thinks  of  the  Katniss  shaped hole  that  sits  at  the  edge  of  his  vision,  day  in  and  day  out. 

ㅤㅤㅤHe  thinks  he  understands. 

[spyridonya]

Katherine 'Katie' von Valancius hates the overabundance of the Aquila, and does her utmost best not to show over difference to the symbol, remembering exactly what happens to those who don't show the right amount of due.

She's given herself the grace of refusing to wear more than four pieces of Imperial insignia in her outfits after becoming Rogue Trader and formally leaving the Imperial Guard and Adeptus Astra Telepathica. She's very aware of the late official portrait of Theadora von Valancius displays three of those symbols, and given the fact she is a mutant, she just wears more more to be 'safe'.

[alexauthorshay]

Interested in doing an OC sh*tpost of word vs. Comment here or send me an ask with a word used in two different ways and I’ll see which characters are which version. (Actual characters to be posted here soon!)

Inspiration for this post is freak (derogatory) or freak (affectionate). Something like that but can be any word with any context!

[shirowisp]

“Please stand back, the doors are now closing.”

A recording playing through the speakers went unnoticed by most people. It was just another thing of repetition in everyone’s mundane life. Life was a long cycle of repetition with only a few unique moments of individuality. However, those moments, no matter how brief, were the ones that people held onto the most. For the small chance of finding something new and enjoyable, that is what kept people going. (a small ic drabble as one of my favorite muses. I'm so sorry for my slowness in discussing with everyone. I'll get to all of you asap! For now, I hope this writing sample is enough)

The automatic doors of the train slowly came to a close as people instinctively stepped back towards the center of the car leaving little space in between. A young girl stood next to the door, her back pressed against the small divider between the door and rows of seats down the train car. Clutching the strap of her bag, she kept her gaze towards the glass windows watching the world pass by around her.

Rush hour was always the worst time to get on the train. Between people getting off work, school-aged kids done with their clubs, and for Yuki, a college student who happened to have late classes, it was guaranteed that the train would be packed full. Everyone all wanted to go home.

The night lights from the city slowly vanished from view, the windows going dark as the train entered a tunnel. Having been on this exact route many times already, Yuki knew that the next stop would be hers. Commuting home was just another repetition in a person’s daily life.

Suddenly the train came to a stop prematurely. Given that the windows were still dark, the train hadn’t exited the tunnel just yet.

“Please excuse us for this temporary delay. We should have the train operating in a few minutes”

Another overhead announcement came across the speakers, most people still ignoring it. Lifting her head, Yuki looked confused, since she was deaf, she was unaware of the announcement and looked concerned why the train suddenly stopped. As in her world, there was no reason given and no telling when the train would start again. Her gaze looked over the train car, people mostly scrolling aimlessly on their phone while others talked amongst themselves. Out of the countless people in the same car as her, the only one who had any concern for the sudden stop was Yuki.

I sure hope this is temporary...

A sudden shift of the train caused most to stumble, Yuki grabbed onto the metal railing next to her to keep herself from falling. The train was proceeding onwards the usual route.

“Now approaching Itabashi Station. Please stay clear of the doors.”

Light filled the train as they exited the tunnel. A small sigh of relief escaped the girl’s lips as she was already looking forward to going home. The train slowed until it finally stopped at the platform. A light above the door flashing with a soft beep before the metal doors slid open to let the passengers off. Stepping off onto the concrete platform, the pinkette pulled her coat closer as the chill of the winter air hit her skin. It’s a lot colder than it was yesterday….

Moving ahead, the girl continued walking, not paying much attention to the people around her. The sound of footsteps filled the stairway as a herd of people made their way down. Yuki was just one in a crowd of many seeking the exit. Turning left, the yellow signs overhead signaling this was the direction for the East Exit. Her hand shuffled around in her bag pulling out her wallet in search of her train card. Pulling out her card, she looked up just as she approached the green fare gate, yet all the lights on this side of the station remained dimmed. None of her fellow passengers had followed behind her.

“Excuse me young miss, this exit is closed. Please take another exit.”

The voice went unnoticed by Yuki as she stood there looking confused. It wasn’t until a man had stepped into her field of vision that she had finally acknowledged him. He wore a formal uniform, his white gloves and the silver train pin on his lapel was a clear indication that he worked for the rail service. A white face masked covered half his face, the slight movements of the material was a sign that he was in fact trying to speak to her, yet Yuki was at a loss. Unable to read his lips, the girl remained confused as she gestured to her hearing aids trying to show him that she can’t hear, yet he repeated himself literally falling on deaf ears.

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, Yuki quickly typed on it before showing it to the man.

“I’m sorry but I’m deaf. Is there something wrong with this exit?”

Tilting her head, she could see the change of expression by the officer as he was first surprised, raising her brow curiously at the girl. His surprise quickly morphed into confusion and uncertainty as he glanced around not sure exactly how to proceed. This was common with most people Yuki came across. As soon as they learn she is deaf, all of them become awkward not knowing how to communicate with her. Slowly, his gloved hand reached into his pocket pulling out his own phone as he typed in response.

“My apologies, miss. This exit is closed for the time being. Please proceed by taking another exit.” He typed remaining professional yet his eyes showed a hint of kindness beneath his apologetic glance.

With a small nod of the head, the girl gave him a thumbs up showing that she understood before she turned around. The once filled station of passengers scrambling to the exit was now almost empty, with few stragglers behind looking at a couple shops or waiting for someone else to meet up. Tapping her card to the gate, a small beep before a green light appeared giving her the all clear to proceed in exiting the West Exit.

A few steps was all it took to walk out of the large entryway of the station. People stood on the sidewalks as a strong breeze caused a chill to run through the girl’s body. The temperature had dropped significantly. Rubbing her hands together, Yuki blew on them in an attempt to warm them up with her breath, but that really didn’t do much in the cold air. In the corner of her eye, a girl suddenly pointed up. Following her gesture, a glitter was sprinkling downwards in the night sky. The light of the skyscrapers surrounding them reflected off the substance. Holding out a hand, snowflakes fluttered down onto her palm before melting onto her skin.

“Wow, it’s really snowing!” The look of pure excitement on the woman’s face as she turned to the man beside her who only chuckled as he wrapped an arm around. “Snow in Tokyo is so rare, huh. We must be lucky to get to see this.” He replied, pulling her closer to him.

Tilting her head upwards, more flakes of snow started to cover her head now looking like glitter anytime she moved. Perhaps it was rare moments like this is what brought people the most joy. The small, beautiful moments a person could have and possibly have to share with another person, that is what made the mundane aspects of life worth it. If not for the unexpected turn of events on her train ride home, Yuki would have missed this rare view of the flurry of snow sprinkling down amongst the city.

The snow is really pretty…

A small smile appeared on the girl’s face as she tucked her hands into her pocket before she took a step forward to head back home, snow falling around her covering the surfaces in a layer of shimmering glitter.

[xblacksheepsx]

A chance meeting

Amyel Drabble —

———————-

He had been working on this for a fortnight, —— sure he wasn’t as creative as the seraphim’s or archangels , being a dominion and all , he wasn’t as close to the holy father as them either .. but he could still be powerful still be important , he just had to work hard and show them in other ways and this was it, it was still a bit wonky in some places but creating wasn’t easy . That’s why there was a team of creatives working together and he would be apart of that he would be important make a name for himself .

That power — it would be his .

His thoughts were halted by something short and almost muppet like slamming into him,

“Oof! Ah so so sorry , “ Samuel apologized profusely , that ever present little pet of his slithering around his face and on his head glowing from the halo light.

“Monty got In my eyes for a second “ the younger ( annoyingly more higher stationed then him) seraphim explained , golden eyes bright and cheerful , red wings all a flutter .

Amyel never felt such a rush of annoyance and anger .. but he tamped it down for now.

“Just be careful you almost destroyed my project—-“

“Ooh wow did you make that? That’s so good! Is it supposed to be a palm tree?” Samuel interrupted .

It was supposed to be a fig tree …

“Here let me try ..” and as effortless as ever .. wielding that light power that should have been his, the annoyance created a perfect small Palm tree , “look Twin trees!” He grinned .

Amyel never wanted to crush something so badly .. he worked for weeks on this one prototype .. this little upstart with his weird serpent…. Wait what was with that serpent.

Amyel always had a nack for sensing things of the darkness .. that vauge Being they all battle back with creation …. But why was he sensing it here ? Was there a break in the wall.. maybe he could shove Sam through it.

It was then he noticed an intense pair of red eyes focusing on him …. No it was coming from that ?.. it was faint as if the snake was trying to suppress it , but he could see It this wasn’t a normal snake and it was latched on to— oh father worked in mysterious ways indeed how perfect.

Well if asked he didn’t notice anything~. He simply winked at the snake and turned a blind eye to it.

“That does look nice Sam but I’m rather busy so I can’t play Around .. why don’t you go spend time with your pet.. he seems to like your halo.”

Samuel glanced upwards indeed Monty was eyeing it like he wanted to devour it .

“Ya I think he likes the warmth and light, I should go feed him, see you Around Amyel! Keep up your cool palm tree making !”

It was a fucking fig tree you little — he sighed and waved the other off . It didn’t matter he was sure he could use what he just saw to his advantage somehow .. one way or another he will get that power.

A snake in a nest of angels how funny.

[v1x3n]

nanamis whose been working overtime loads recently, trying to save enough money for a beautiful wedding. he often comes home tired and dazed, you know how the schedule goes.

you run a soft hand down his clothed chest, feeling the tired, tight muscles underneath. you murmur a softer, "missed you."

to which he grumbles something under his breath then smiles smally, "missed you too.." he lets a silence pass, a comfortable one, as your hands roam his chest and his hands roam your hips. "help me undress?" he suggests.

youve never gotten him out of his clothes faster, showing off his damp muscles, his large thighs, just his entire body was gorgeous to you. he guides you towarss the bed lazily, pushing you into the sheets, letting then swarm you. his eyes droop as he collapses ontop of you, "fuck, you smell good."

you breathe out a laugh as he picks himself up to undress you. he trails his fingers down your body, his mouth does the same. kissing along your skin, right over your stomach pudge then down to your thighs.

hastily dipping his fingers into the hems of your underaeae and throwing them aside. you gasp at the air hitting your glistening pussy. your eyebrows knitting together as you let out a deep breath. "can i?" he mumbles, kissing a small peck to your inner thigh. using his large hands to part your legs and get comfortable lent to press a smaller peck to your needy lips.

you nod once. "words, pretty."

"yes, please." you beg politely. his lips connect to your small bud, instant pleasure jolts through you and escapes with a loud gasp, "oh!"

kento sloppily kisses your clit, the small thing shining pink and hard. she twitches as he presses his tongue against you. he groans in your whines and whimpers, your hand burries itself in his hair - growing more soft groans from him. gently pulling on the strands, you moan out as his tongue travles downwards, past your sloppy folds and through to your juicy hole.

he slurps your wetness in a loud sound, salivating over the taste. you mewl loudly, your eyes rolling back in an instant.

god.

he tugs his nose into your clit as he licks your hole, stimulating both at the same time. he loves the way your legs twitch. fuck. he loves the way you taste, the way you sound, the way you look - fucking all five senses! then his licks grow faster and he dips the tip of his tongue into your tightness.

your orgasm is right on the brink, you can feel it. the coil twisting - about to explode. just a little more...

"oh, fuck, ken!" you breathe, teeth holding onto your bottom lip, scoring blood. then his tongue haults. "...ken?" you mumble, your body twitches in anticipation.

after a second of silence, orgasm vanished and you peak down to see him almost drooling onto the sheets. dead asleep.

his hair messy, naked, sleeping in between your legs. your hole tightens in the slightest. tou run a hand over his hair and let out a sharp breath. he looked perfect, his parted lips, his sloped nose, his sculptured face.

you wish you could be mad at the lack of orgasm but hin sleeping was far too cute. youll let him off with a warning.

[bananastarlo]

Warning: NSFW!

Thinking about nerdy yandere who is more than willing to help you study for your next exam. You invite him over since you think he’ll be easy to take advantage of. After all, his shy demeanor and nerdy interests don’t faze you at all.

What you don’t expect is how easily his patience snaps.

“Please, try to at least follow what I’m saying — are you even listening?”

Now he’s inside of you, trying to at least get you to do something right.

“That’s wrong,” he grunts, slowing his pace and abandoning your pussy as you whimper and tremble in need. “Come on, baby, just like I taught you.”

You grind yourself against him, mind foggy from how many times he’s denied your orgasm when you didn’t know the answer to his stupid questions.

As you stutter out the answer he’s waiting for, he captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue into your throat and igniting a burning ache in your tummy, the pool of arousal beneath you only growing.

And without warning, you feel his throbbing dick pumping back into you, filling you up perfectly as he begins to mercilessly pound into you. His sweaty body slaps against your own, combined with his loud moans, filling the room with the lewdest and most erotic sounds you’ve ever heard in your life.

“Tell me what you need. Tell me you need me, that you won’t ever need another man because I can make you feel so good. Ugh, f-fuck!”

His voice cracks as his eyes roll back, forehead glistening with sweat. He feels your cunt clench around him as you come undone under him, body shivering, waiting for him to cum too.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, feeling his own orgasm approaching at the sight of you completely disheveled.

You’re already overstimulated by the time he thrusts deep inside of you for the last time.

You can’t think straight anymore, but he makes sure to push his thick, heavy load inside you. When he finally pulls out and you’re still dripping, he drops to his knees in front of you, licking and cleaning up the mess you two made. You gasp. Looking down, seeing him like this, gazing up at you with that hunger in his eyes, makes you mewl in feverish delight.

“Look at you… being so obedient after all. You liked that, hm?”

All you can do is lazily nod, earning a cocky grin.

“Next time I visit,” he breathes against your skin, “you better have all the answers ready — so I can make you feel even better, yeah?”

[dinoswordsb]

This is in no way the best way to post it but it is the only way I could get the format to stay

[xxsabitoxx]

Yuji being obsessed with the eating your pussy and accidentally teaching Sukuna how enjoyable it can be.

Sukuna, who’s never seen the appeal in going down on a woman. He figures he would personally gain no pleasure from it so why even bother?

Yuji, who’s the polar opposite and dreams of the day he can finally get you in his bed. Just so he can shove his head between your thighs and eat you out until you’re crying

Sukuna, who’s been forced to listen to these thoughts for years now because Yuji won’t grow a pair and just ask you out. Seriously, it’s been years, he’s losing his mind.

Yuji, who finally asks you out after one shot for courage and can’t believe it when you’re telling him that you’ve been waiting forever for him to ask that question.

Yuji, who forgets that even a single shot of liquor can get him buzzed and in no time at all he has his hands all over you. Not that you mind, you’ve waited just as long for him.

Yuji, who’s dragging you into a random bedroom at this house party and is locking the door behind you, lips glued to yours as he backs you up until you’re falling onto the mattress with him on top of you.

Yuji, who’s kissing his way down your body, falling to his knees before you as he nearly drags your lower half off of the mattress. Tugging your pants and underwear off in one go just to toss them somewhere into the room

Yuji, who’s spreading your thighs apart to finally catch a glimpse of the cunt he’s been dreaming of for years. Saliva pooling in his mouth at the sight of your dripping cunt.

Yuji, who’s whining as he moves his head lower, nipping and sucking the plush flesh of your inner thighs. Your nosies only egging him on as he moves his way upwards.

Yuji, who’s breath is coming out in short pants as he hovers just above your cunt, asking your permission one last time since he knows he’ll be too far gone to stop soon.

Yuji, who’s whimpering against your cunt as he eats you out, tongue licking greedily along your slit before prodding at your swollen clit. Drool leaking down his chin and subsequently your cunt, mixing with your arousal.

Yuji, who has you falling apart on his tongue over and over before he’s even satisfied enough to come up for air. His cheeks flushed pink and hair a mess from where your hands had been pulling at it.

Yuji, who’s begging you to let him eat you again, as if his lips and chin aren’t covered in your sticky arousal. Watching as you struggle to catch your breath, not thinking he would make you cum as many times as he had.

Yuji, who’s practically crying when you lazily nod “yes”, your eyelids almost impossible to keep open as you fall back against the mattress and let him eat you out for the umpteenth time that night.

Sukuna, who’s eyes have been fully opened (against his will) to the appeal in eating a woman’s cunt.

Mildly unfinished but like… the vision is there my

Edit: based on some recent comments and anons I’ve received, there seems to be some confusion with this post.

So let me clarify that Yuji is 21-22 in this, he is in college, I’ve written him the age he would be in 2024.

If you don’t agree with aging up characters? Don’t read the post, or just block me. It’ll save all of us the time and sanity.

[senjutsunade]

~Envy~

Note: @idreamofdango - here you go! Sorry the editing took so long.

Tsunade’s gaze drifted lazily from the stacks of paperwork she had long since resigned herself to ignoring, settling instead on the whirlwind of motion pacing before her desk. Anko was deep in yet another impassioned monologue—this time about some new variety of dango that had apparently been an offense to her very existence.

The Hokage exhaled slowly, fingers tapping absently against the armrest of her chair. Why, exactly, this particular tragedy needed to be relayed to her remained a mystery. But given the alternative—drowning in the endless sea of documents that had buried her desk since the day she took office—Tsunade supposed there were worse fates than enduring the dramatic ramblings of a crazed Tokubetsu Jōnin.

A sudden silence pulled her attention upward.

She found herself staring into deep brown eyes, so dark they nearly bled into violet under the dim office lighting. That color had a way of unsettling her, striking something deep and primal in her chest, something she loathed acknowledging.

Anko’s glare was pointed, her arms crossed in clear irritation at the lack of engagement.

Tsunade forced herself to smirk, feigning nonchalance as she gave a single nod.

The younger woman huffed, rolling her eyes before launching right back into her rant.

“…A complete waste of my money! Can you believe the nerve? Charging that much for garbage? I swear—”

Tsunade barely heard the rest.

Her attention had already drifted, her amusement fading into something heavier, something that settled like lead in her stomach.

She had seen those eyes before.

Not on Anko.

Not on anyone living.

They belonged to ghosts, to the ones who had never made it back, to the ones she had held in her arms as their light faded.

Whoever claimed that eyes were the windows to the soul had no idea how painfully right—and dreadfully wrong—they were. Because staring into Anko’s, all Tsunade could see were the dead.

She remembered the first time she had laid eyes on Mitarashi Anko—remembered, with startling clarity, the first and only time she had ever felt jealousy toward another kunoichi.

She hadn’t cared that the girl was just a child. Hadn’t cared how petty the emotion was. All that mattered in that moment was that Anko was taking something—someone—that belonged to her.

Tsunade’s fingers curled into fists as she glared at her pale-haired teammate, disbelief and frustration warring within her.

“What do you mean you’ve taken on an apprentice?” she snapped, voice sharp with accusation.

She was already losing too much. First Jiraiya, with his idiotic decision to stay in Ame and play babysitter to a group of war orphans. And now Orochimaru? Her last tether to familiarity, to stability, was being pulled away from her, slipping through her grasp like sand.

Behind him stood a small figure, her posture straight, rigid with attention. Big, inquisitive eyes locked onto her new sensei with a quiet, worshipful reverence that made Tsunade’s stomach twist.

Orochimaru didn’t so much as flinch under her glare. If anything, his lips quirked into that insufferable smirk that always meant he was enjoying himself far too much at her expense.

“Sarutobi-sensei thought it would be a good idea,” he mused, his voice calm, detached. “Besides, young Anko here is quite the exceptional little kunoichi.”

The way he said it—so damn smug—made something burn in her chest.

“Now now, hime,” he added, his tone turning light, mocking, “no need to be jealous. I’m sure you’ll be assigned your own students soon enough—once you learn to control that temper of yours.”

He was laughing before he even turned away, motioning for the girl to follow.

And she did.

Without hesitation.

Tsunade remained rooted in place, the training ground stretching empty before her, the ghost of Orochimaru’s amusement lingering in the air.

Her hands trembled at her sides.

Shaking in rage.

She had seen the girl many times after that day, always trailing after Orochimaru like a devoted shadow. Wide, pale-brown eyes brimming with laughter, with wit, with a confidence that made Tsunade's stomach turn. That same foul taste always rose in her throat whenever she saw them together, an unfamiliar bitterness curling in the pit of her gut.

Because this girl—this mere child—had done what no one else had ever managed.

She had made Senju Tsunade envious.

At first, she told herself it was nothing. That she didn’t care. But as the months passed, and those happy, adoring eyes continued to haunt her periphery, that bitterness only deepened.

Then, one day, those eyes changed.

The shock of loss had made Tsunade numb. Dan’s death was still fresh, his blood still staining the inside of her mind, and she had nothing left in her to react when the Sandaime sat before her, his mouth forming words she barely processed.

Orochimaru. Traitor.

She just stared at the aged Hokage, empty and unblinking, as he spoke.

She wasn’t sure she could feel anything anymore.

Not until the office doors burst open.

The sharp tang of iron struck first, thick and cloying, as ANBU carried in a limp, blood-soaked body.

Familiar.

“…found in one of the labs…”

“…traitor…”

“…needs medical attention…”

She barely heard them.

Because all she could see were those eyes.

Dead. Hollow. Lifeless.

The same eyes that had once gleamed with sharp, knowing mirth. Eyes that had once mocked her with their brightness, their joy.

Now they stared at her, empty, void of everything that had once made them burn.

The eyes of death itself.

The same lifeless void that had haunted her for years.

The same emptiness that had stared back at her in her nightmares—Nawaki’s, wide and unblinking in the rain.

Dan’s, frozen in time as the light left them.

Tsunade stepped back.

No one knew she had been within Konoha’s walls that night. Summoned back in the wake of Orochimaru’s betrayal.

No one knew she had fled before dawn broke.

No one knew she had taken those eyes with her, carrying the weight of a third pair of ghosts that would keep her awake for months to come.

And soon enough, she had learned how to drown them out.

Sake became her salvation, her escape, her means of silencing the ghosts that whispered to her in the dark.

By the time she lost herself at the bottom of a bottle, she was already in debt to half of Hi no Kuni.

On her return, she'd not been ready for quite a lot.

But the one thing she was most definitely not prepared for was this.

For the ghost of the child she had abandoned, now standing before her on her first official day as Hokage.

Not for the face-splitting grin—sharp, teasing, taunting.

And certainly not for those eyes.

They were still the same. Still empty, still lifeless, still laying bare all of Tsunade’s failures for the world to see. A hollow reflection of everything she had tried to drink away, now staring her down in broad daylight.

Her breath caught.

Guilt churned in her stomach, twining with a sharp, unbidden terror, clawing its way up her throat. Perhaps that was why the young woman’s expression softened. A flicker of something less cruel, something less dead passing through those pale-brown depths.

Perhaps it was pity.

Tsunade didn’t care.

Didn’t question it.

She was just relieved—painfully, achingly relieved—to see something there at all.

“Hokage-sama?”

Tsunade never did understand how it happened.

She doubted she ever would.

Somewhere along the way, their roles had shifted. The venomous resentment, the bitterness of years past, had faded into something else entirely.

Because if she had to name the one shinobi she trusted beyond all others—the one who would never falter, never waver—she wouldn’t have to think twice.

The snake mistress would always be one of the first few names on her lips.

"Will you please listen—"

Perhaps it was the shared understanding of loss, the unspoken recognition between two people who had seen everything they loved torn away.

Perhaps it was the betrayal.

"Will you listen, already?"

A voice cut sharply through the fog of memory, yanking Tsunade back to the present. She blinked, disoriented, only to find herself staring into a face much too close for comfort.

"Personal space, Mitarashi!" she huffed, one hand shoving the grinning menace away before settling into an all-too-familiar twitch of her eye.

That smirk. Damn that smirk.

"Whatcha dreaming about?" Anko chirped, as if she hadn’t just slammed Tsunade straight into the past.

How did she do that? The sheer whiplash—the impossible shift from one extreme to another—should not be possible. It defied all logic.

"None of your business, Anko," she muttered.

Mistake.

Tsunade knew it the moment the words left her lips. She might as well have drawn a target on her forehead and handed Anko a kunai.

Predictably, the younger woman took the opening with a victorious gleam in her eye, planting herself on the disaster zone Tsunade still begrudgingly called a desk, making herself right at home.

“Would those thoughts, by chance, revolve around a white haired Perv?” Tsunade wondered if she could develop a permanent eye twitch if this subject wasn’t dropped sometime soon, as she gritted her teeth, forcing out a tense “No!”

[suiana]

yandere! mr scarlettela who probably most likely makes you share an umbrella with him. he thinks it's cute and romantic, and he's a super romantical dude ☺️

yandere! mr scarlettela who will likely relent and get you your own umbrella after you repeatedly tell him that you want him GONE. why? cause whenever you share an umbrella he stands way too close for comfort like imagine sleeping on a king size bed but you're pushed to the edge cause he keeps edging closer and closer-

yandere! mr scarlettela who's highkey delusional... bro DEFINITELY thinks you two are married. like??? he thought the bodies you threw away were gifts to him 💀💀💀 if you as much as smile he'll think you want to have babies 💀💀💀

yandere! mr scarlettela who thinks you look the prettiest in red. sure you look pretty in other colours but red... you look beautiful in red. plus that's his colour! you're wearing his colour! that's like practically trying to get with him right? right????

yandere! mr scalettela who just loves you so much. why would you ever want to leave him? he'll treat you right, he will! please stay with him. please stay with him. please stay with him. please stay with him. Please stay with him. Please.

[urfriendlywriter]

what will your character do..

(reblog and brainstorm, lovelies! u can also write drabbles with theseee )

if they're met face to face with their plot, with no warning?

if they're stressed?

if they're happy? who will they want to share it with?

if they're sad? will they go to anyone for comfort? if yes, who?

if they're forced into a life of death situation?

if they're being threatened?

if they're kissed by their ex?

if they're confessed to by someone who they had no clue liked them? (given, they're single or not)

if their lover betrays them?

if they're coughing up blood out of the blue?

if there's a strange presence in the room, and it feels ominous?

if they discovered a dead body?

^ if the dead body is their best friend? (great question to start and develop a plot)

if their enemy is at their doorstep, bruised and injured?

if they had to share a bed with someone they don't particularly hate? ahem

if they had to be fed by someone they didn't like/their crush?

if their partner-to-be? enemy? pulls them into a secluded and shushes them? (their bodies pressing and all that!!)

when asked to choose between their family and their lover? (given the circumstances of ur story)

when kissed on their head by their enemy after a near death experience?

if they're dancing with a stranger, and the stranger says 'stop dancing, sweetheart and you'll hunted. do u wanna die?' ?

if they find out the food that served to them has glass dust on it? (who is it served by?)

when being pulled into a hug when they most need it by someone they least expect?

when they have to hold someone they loved at a gun point? why would it even occur?

when they have to choose between their own life and their lover's?

when they've to give up something (of great importance to the character) to save their lover?

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐄

w.c › 11k

plot › this Drabble I had, but expanded. And changed the ending for this part.

warnings › for all characters in the group — faceclaim. Bottom male reader. Age gap, reader is four years older than OC. Reader’s last name is Hong. Unreliable narrator. Slow burn, Mingi is the main romance but you do dabble with the other members.

kinks › body worship, cross dressing, size difference

Words to know › maknae (막내) — youngest. Hyung (형) — a term a younger male with call an older male. Dongsaeng (동생) — little brother/sister, doesn’t have to be a biological sibling/can be a friend. Aegyo(애교) — a way of acting cute in Korea culture.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

At the age of twenty-one, you thought had run out of time to debut. You did end up debuting with five other boys, as the leader no less. Of course being from a small company meant your debut wasn’t that big but it was better than nothing.

The group was called 미라클 (Miracle). The company wanted a boy group to sell a boyfriend fantasy to fans, especially female fans.

You and your group were even advertise as specific types of boyfriends.

Hong (Name), leader of Miracle had a nice ring to it. Advertised as the no-nonsense boyfriend, cold but caring.

박요한 (Park Yohan), sub vocalist and lead dancer of Miracle. Debuted at the age of twenty. Advertised as the athletic boyfriend, energetic and upbeat.

김기현 (Kim Kihyun), lead vocalist and main dancer of Miracle. He was the same age as Yohan. Advertised as the artistic boyfriend, writes music just for you (the fan).

박도하 (Park Doha), main rapper of Miracle. Debuted at the age of nineteen. Advertised as the bad boy, with a hidden heart of gold.

양효진 (Yang Hyojin), sub vocalist and lead rapper of Miracle, under the stage name Jin. Debuted at the age of eighteen. Advertised as the guitarist boyfriend, shy but sweet.

최민기 (Choi Mingi), main vocalist of Miracle. The maknae, debuting at age seventeen. Advertised as the golden retriever boyfriend, naive and well meaning.

With the two underage members, you were a bit worried about them being used to portray a fantasy. But any worries you had were always pushed aside. In the end you ended up trying to protect Mingi and Hyojin by yourself, and even the other members.

Which led to the first two years of your group to label you as “Miracle’s Dad.”

It didn’t bother you, though it did ruin the whole boyfriend image for you. Most of the fans could only really see you as the group’s parent, and by extension, their own.

The company ended up leaning into it. Follow the money or whatever.

The groups debut was school boy concept. It made sense though you felt weird being twenty-one dancing in a school uniform. Over time as the members grew older, the company allowed you guys to experiment to more mature music.

But the group really blew up when the group was four years old. You had turned twenty-five and basically begged the company to finally allow the group to have a sensual concept.

They refused, obviously. But they allowed the b-side that you’d guys promote be just a little bit sensual.

Embarrassing to say that you quickly leaned into it. You performed the b-side as if your rent was due. In the end it worked out for you.

Who knew acting sexual on stage would make people like you more. It also helped that you wore revealing clothes in comparison to everyone else. The stylist practically went to town with your outfit.

Skin tight leather pants that had a hole on your right thigh. A black crop top that showed off your stomach, a waist chain, and heavy black eye makeup. Most of all, a freaking choker that you purposefully played with during the performance.

In any case, your little performance helped bring Miracle more fans. The next fan meeting was sold out in just one day! A first for your group.

Which lead to today, the fan meeting.

“Are you going to wear a choker again?”

You flinched as a chin rest on your shoulder. Your eyes moved from your phone as you glanced over at Yohan, who had just finished makeup. Yohan gave you a cheeky smirk as you rolled your eyes and pushed him away.

“Why would I wear it for a fan meeting? The theme is costumes.” You said, checking the time. You were next to get your outfit and makeup down. The fan meeting had fallen on Halloween so the company took the chance to have you all dress up.

Yohan was a butler by the looks of it. His dyed pink hair slicked back, a pair of fake glasses on the bridge of his nose. He pulled out his phone, “you sure you don’t want to get a side account? The fans are funny as fuck.”

He’d been pestering you about seeing what everyone online thought about you but you weren’t exactly into that. Besides, it’s for the fans mostly, wouldn’t it be weird if you bothered them?

“Hong (Name).”

“Gotta go.” You said, getting up.

“I hope they put you in another choker!”

Yohan was right, you would be getting a choker again.

But not in the way you thought.

You stared in the mirror just as a few staff members told your group that the fans were here.

You were dressed a princess, Cinderella to be exact. Y’know, you expected something to go with the recent rise of your popularity. Something sexy, not this cute outfit. The blonde wig was cheap but still managed to look decent due to the stylist’s touches.

The dress was blue and puffy, somehow fitting you. It was knee length, possibly due to your height. There was a bit of tightness around your chest. Was this originally for a girl? You shook your head. There was a blue little choker that matched the light blue gloves you wore.

The shoes you wore were just sneakers, the stylist got lazy at the end. You had on white thigh highs that had a frilly top at the end. Despite your slight disappointment, you couldn’t lie that you were cute.

The stylist did perfect girlish make up on you, somehow managing to make your face look feminine. Oh well, you could cross off cross dressing on your bucket list!

“Looking good, Princess!” Yohan appeared behind you, grinning. Kihyun was right beside him, taking in your outfit.

Kihyun was a cowboy. His hat slipping down when he looked back up at you. “You look good, Hyung. Did you shave?” He pushed the hat back up.

“I usually shave.” You said, shrugging. “Hairless legs feel nice.”

Yohan hummed. “Hm,” he fixed your wig when it looked tilted. “Maybe I should shave. Hey, Kihyun, wanna help a hyung out?”

“Don’t even come near me.” Kihyun rolled his eyes, quickly walking away.

“Look at him… Our dongsaengs are so mean nowadays.” Yohan shook his head as he let out an exasperated sigh. You rolled your eyes and began to drag Yohan out to the back of the stage.

Everyone else was already there.

The staff motioned for you all to rush out onto stage one by one. The youngest went first. You almost felt nervous going out but stood tall as you walked out last.

The fans screams were almost deafening. You almost covered your ears subconsciously. Your lips twitched as you tried to fight back a smile, it was one of the few times they ever screamed that loud when you came on stage.

It was always Mingi or Kihyun, the most biased out of the group.

The fan meet went as it always does. Miras, Miracle’s fandom name, were excited to see the group. Little dances or karaoke performances of other groups songs. For the first time, fans actually called out your name to take more pictures of you.

Any nervousness you had over the dress was long gone by this point. You decided to let loose and get into the ‘princess’ persona. Doha was dressed a vampire so you posed together for the fan cameras.

“Bite him!”

“Bite him, Doha-Ssi!”

Doha glanced over at you. You could instantly tell the mischievous aura that was beaming from him as his lips slowly pulled into a smirk. Before you could even attempt to run away his hand grabbed your arm as he pulled you close.

Miras screamed as he playfully bit your neck. You squirmed as you could only laugh, reaching to push him away but he easily grabbed both of your wrists. He held them tight as he held his pose so the fan girls could take as many pictures as possible.

Finally he pulled away. You glared at him and quickly got your revenge by ‘accidentally’ hitting your knee against his crotch. Doha went down with a whimper.

Yohan quickly walked over, but not to help as he kneeled and took a quick selfie. “I hope they make memes of this!” He laughed, moving to sit on top of Doha’s back as the younger muttered out a short prayer for his crotch.

You glanced over to see what the other members were doing. Mingi was being told to do multiple poses while Kihyun and Hyojin were trying on different hand bands Miras had brought on. That gave you the idea to find one for yourself.

Hopefully it wouldn’t miss with your wig. Wouldn’t want to go bald on stage.

You were sitting on top of the table on the stage, grabbing one of the gifts that Miras brought in. As you debated between the cat ears or frog hat, a hand suddenly gripped your thigh.

Your body jumped as you glanced up to see who was touching you to see it was only Mingi. He was dressed in an ancient Korean costume, complimented with a Korean hat. It was no wonder the fans kept telling him to be an actor.

He looked straight out of a historical kdrama.

��Something wrong?” You finally asked, calming down when you realized it was just him. Weirdly enough he was covering you from the fans. Hm.

Mingi stared down at you, his face blank. His dyed blonde hair was pulled into a little bun to fit into the hat. Light makeup applied to his fox like features, red lipstick on his lips. You didn’t mean to but you stared at his lips for a moment before quickly looking back up.

His eyes narrowed in on your neck. You reached up to touch your neck and felt the teeth marks Doha left. Damn, you didn’t realize he had bitten that hard. Just as you glanced up at Mingi he was looking at your face.

“Your dress is short.” Mingi said, a grin pulling on his lips. But it didn’t reach his eyes. “You almost flashed everyone else.”

You gasped, glancing back at the fans. “Really?! Did they see anything?”

“No, I came just in time. They just…” Mingi glanced down at your thighs. The dress had ridden up to show off the bare skin of your thighs that weren’t covered by your socks. It was really close to showing the boxers you were wearing.

Mingi shook his head. “They didn’t see anything. Be careful next time, Hyung. Wouldn’t want anyone to… see you like this.”

“Thanks.” You simply said, giving him a little smile. Your lips pursed as you glanced back at the cat ears and frog hat. “Minnie, which one should I wear? Cat ears or frog hat?” You held up the two items.

He took the two from your hand before placing the cat ears back on the table. You made the attempt to reach for the frog hat, believing that’s what he chose for you until he stopped you.

You watched as he untied the hat he was wearing, taking it off before resting it on your head. He placed the frog hat on his head and then tied the Korean hat properly on you, making sure it was stable before pulling away.

“I wanted the frog hat. I think it’ll look better on me.” Mingi smirked. He fixed your dress, pulling it down to give you some modesty before stepping away to stop covering you.

“Ah…” You could only stare at him. That felt weird but you didn’t know why. He just wanted to switch hats. That’s all. You were making it weird.

He’s someone you have to take care of! You pinched yourself to push any weird thoughts in your head as you slipped off the table.

The rest of the fan meet was smooth sailing. Mingi didn’t bother you. Doha was mewing for the camera while Yohan would randomly start breakdancing for no reason. Kihyun and Hyojin were once again in their own little world.

Though they were nice enough to let you sit on the sideline. You sometimes wondered if they had something on side. In a hour or so the fan meet was done.

You all practically rushed to get home. While you loved interacting with fans, you always felt insanely tired after. There was always a certain persona you had to have—especially the one that the company had given you.

As you sat in the company van, you glanced over at Yohan. He was snickering at something on his phone. You leaned closer to see what it was.

It was a video of you hitting Doha in the balls. From the angle, it was so obvious it wasn’t an accident. As Yohan swiped down to the comments, so many fans were laughing. Lots of them saying Doha had to say goodbye to having children.

“It’s funny, right?” Yohan suddenly asked, looking up at you.

You flinched before nodding, not seeing the purpose of lying now. “Yeah, I guess. Is that all they do?”

“They do fan edits and even fan art. I found an edit of my breakdancing already.” Yohan showed the video. The edit made his dancing look cooler than it actually was. You rolled your eyes, of course Yohan would like it.

“You should really just take a look,” Yohan looked back down at his phone. “It’s cool seeing how they talk about us.”

The driver started the car as you glanced out the window. Maybe Yohan wasn’t wrong. It wouldn’t hurt to take a little peek at what Miras are doing.

Besides… you wanted to see if maybe Miras saw you outside of being ‘Miracle’s Dad.’

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

After taking a nice shower, you got dressed in some loose pajamas. Since Miracle was a four year group, the company finally allowed you all to not room in one apartment as six men.

Though they could only afford a three apartments, meaning you would still have to room with someone. The apartments were all on the same floor and right near each other. Meaning there were days your band mates would still bother you like a little kid.

Yohan and Doha were roommates.

Kihyun and Hyojin, unsurprising to everyone.

That left you and Mingi. You thought he would’ve been upset about that but he was calm. If you were delusional enough, you would’ve thought he was even happy.

But you aren’t delusional.

You could hear Mingi gaming in the living room. You almost attempted to go out and ask him to keep the volume down but just as you opened the door, the volume was already low. Hm, he was a smart guy.

With that settled, you turned on your colorful fairy lights and plopped down onto your bed. You responded to any text messages that came up when you got bored.

Your finger pressed on Twitter. You were logged onto the group’s official account. As you scrolled past what the company posted—you suddenly got the urge to see what the fans were doing.

Just for a second. Just for a little bit.

You got to work and logged out of the account, making a side account. To better infiltrate Miras, you made a small little fan account.

Perhaps you are a little bit conceited but you decided to use your own picture as the profile picture. You used one from the fan meet today. That blonde wig was really pretty on you, why shouldn’t you enjoy it a bit more?

After creating the account, you began scrolling through the more major fan accounts. There were of course a lot for Kihyun and Mingi. That much you expected it.

There were many viral tweets of Mingi in his costume. So many Miras squealing that he would make a perfect actor. One post had over 100k likes.

As you scrolled through the many posts of Miras saying they wanted to “bounce on that dick” you came across a profile that an ‘18+’ in their handle.

What could they be posting to have such an handle?

Curiosity got the best of you. You pressed in their account to check it out. The account had Yohan as their profile, an older one of him, possibly at your debut. It was named @hanniesmira

The first few posts were just of Yohan taken at the fan meet. Her captions were pretty sweet, you wondered how bad things could get. Until you came across a tweet she had of Yohan and Doha.

It was when Yohan had just finished his ridiculous breakdancing. You remembered Miras yelling for Doha to bite him since he was in arms length of him.

The caption read:

→ you cant tell me DH hasn’t fucked Yhn in this type of position before!!!

‘DH?’ ‘Yhn?’ Why did she censor their name like that? You didn’t question it and decided to see how she could possibly get this perverted idea of Yohan and Doha. The video started with Yohan standing up after his breakdancing, breathing heavily as he wiped at his face.

The Miras in the video began to tell Doha to quickly bite Yohan while he’s distracted. Doha gave them a thumb ups before inching close to an oblivious Yohan. Yohan seemed to notice something was wrong judging by the giggles from Miras.

He made an attempt to run when Doha delivered his attack. Two of Doha’s fingers easily hooked itself in Yohan’s belt hoops of his pants and pulled him back with ease. His free hand reached up and gripped Yohan’s chin as he harshly tilted his head to the right.

Doha delivered the quick bite into Yohan’s neck. Yohan winced as his free hand reached up and gripped Doha’s hair as he could only take Doha’s attack. The video ended just as Doha pulled away and Yohan turned to face him, an unreadable expression on his face.

Oh.

Okay you could see it. That was a bit… 

You must’ve been daydreaming to not have noticed that oddly sexually charged interaction. So maybe this girl wasn’t crazy. Now intrigued, you decided to continue on.

There were other videos of the fan meet. Though she wasn’t just a Yohan and Doha solo fan. She retweeted a few posts of Kihyun and Hyojin.

Kihyun was leaning over to wipe something off Hyojin’s lips. You didn’t see how any of that was romantic but thought back to the fact you practically did that for every member multiple times.

You really did act like a dad…

Time passed as you started to sink deeper into the ‘NSFW’ side of Miras. You learned Miras ‘censored’ names to hide posts from the searches. Kihyun and Hyojin were a major couple, many fan fictions made about them. Almost every Mira agreed that they were secretly dating.

Yohan and Doha was a different story. It seemed most people fought over who would top.

Then there was other ships. Hyojin and Doha. Yohan and Kihyun. Kihyun and Doha. Hyojin and Yohan. Even with Mingi. Mingi was mostly shipped with Hyojin. You wondered why you weren’t showing up at much, feeling oddly left out.

Weird, you were wondering why no one was over analyzing your sex life!

Just as you were about to call it a night, you came across a post finally discussing you. Hanniesmira was quote tweeting someone else’s tweet.

→ Is this really yalls alpha daddy? Not with those omega eyes!!

Omega eyes?! You took a look at just what she was quoting. It was of your fan page. A gif of today’s fan meet. You were in the Cinderella costume, fixing your wig before looking up, grinning at the crowd. Whatever omega eyes meant, you kinda understood what she meant.

You certainly didn’t look anything like how you usually presented yourself.

As you looked at the comments, an account caught your eye. @itsokokok. The account had you as the profile picture. It was of you on stage for the sensual b-side you guys promoted. Much to your surprise, the account had over 78k followers.

It was getting late but you wanted to see what an account about you said. Were you the top? You hoped so.

It seemed the owner of this account was a guy! Shocking, it was the first male fan you came across.

The account was of you… and pretty much only you. He retweeted a lot of pictures of you in the Cinderella costume. Others of your performance in the infamous choker. Multiple gifs of you pulling at the choker as you stared at the camera. You never realized how dark the eye makeup was.

Clothes and makeup could really change how you looked. It was like night and day compared to the Cinderella costume.

@bluemuuun

↳ tip sticky…

@slipslickk

↳ oh but if I say Hong (Name) is a slut asking to be fucked I’m the bad guy?

@hanniesmira

↳ someone creampie this man!!!

@hyunkikii

↳ need him… need him bouncing on it…

@hyoojinie

↳ 143 entertainment knew to keep this (Name) away from me cuz imma about to defy the laws of biology and get this man pregnant

@dohasflatass

↳ yall should see how Min looked at him during the performance ㅋㅋㅋㅋ he was about to combust

You clicked on the account @dohasflatass was linking to. It was a Mingi fan account, judging by the account having him as their profile picture. The caption wasn’t something you expected, not in your wildest dreams.

→ min wants to fuck him so bad

The video had you delivering your killer move, tugging at your choker as you stared at the camera, biting your lip. It suddenly switched to Mingi. He was delivering his dance moves but his eyes laser focused on you. You hadn’t noticed because you were in the center.

Even though you didn’t think he wanted to fuck you, he was certainly staring at you like you were a three course meal.

The account, @mingihongi had other videos of Mingi supposedly staring at you when you never noticed. One that caught your attention was from today’s fan meet. It was when Doha had restrained you.

The camera zoomed into Mingi, who was standing not too far from you. He was staring straight at you and Doha. There was no subtlety to the anger on his face. His eyebrows furrowed as he gripped at the toy prop he was holding.

Another video was of when you were on the table. Your dress was riding up, your legs swinging absentmindedly as you tried to figure out what to wear. Just as the dress was about to uncover your boxers—Mingi was suddenly in front of you. The video quickly ended after that.

@hyoojinie

↳ someone jelly… forget shipping (Name) with anyone else ㅋㅋㅋㅋ min would murder them

@hanniesmira

↳ (name) shaves?! I need min to bite his thighs!!!

@hyunkikii

↳ alpha daddy my ass… that man is Miracle’s mommy and min’s slut

@hyoojinie

↳ real. (Name) is honestly more like a mom—good thing I love MILFS!!! ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@dohasflatass

↳ if only people didn’t just see him as the ‘dad’.. they’re missing out on seeing min fight every fiber in on his body to not fuck his leader on stage

@slipslickk

↳ remember the live stream?? Min wanted that cookie so fucking bad ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@dohasflatass

↳ which one ㅎㅎㅎ min always stares at (name) like he needs to fuck him or he’ll die

“Hyung.”

You squealed, tossing your phone across the bed as the door opened. Mingi walked in as he rubbed at his face. His eyes were struggling to say open as he moved over to your bed.

“Something wrong?” You asked, trying to forget what you just read. Miras were fucking freaky.

“Hm.” Mingi shrugged as he reached over and pushed you to lay back down. You didn’t fight him as you raised an eyebrow at his behavior. He turned off your nightstand as he crawled over you before plopping down on the bed beside you.

He yawned as he wrapped his arms around your waist and easily pulled you against his body. You flinched but did nothing to stop him. This was normal, he used to do this back during your pre-debut days. One time he got a nightmare and cuddled with you that night… after that you never refused him whenever he asked again.

Even if you knew he couldn’t be possibly having nightmares every night. He stopped saying he had a nightmare and just got comfortable in bed with you.

It had been awhile since he had done that after moving into this apartment. You assumed he had outgrown it being that he was twenty-one now and you twenty-five. But as he got comfortable, you couldn’t stop yourself from gently playing with a strand of his hair.

“Night, Minnie.” You whispered. He hummed before cuddling you closer.

Everything would be okay. Whatever Miras were talking about was rubbish. You were Miracle’s Dad and would continue taking care of them, especially the maknae.

He didn’t want you that way…

Right?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

After your descent into madness only being two weeks ago, you unfortunately began to view Yohan and Doha a bit differently. You already thought Kihyun and Hyojin had a special bond but never with Yohan and Doha.

“We should do an Instagram live today.” You said, staring over at Yohan.

The two of you were in the dance practice room. Yohan had wanted to show you a few moves which led to you two being in there for over two hours. The man was a dance machine and you were too nice to tell him that you wanted to go home.

It was around 10:00 pm but it was a Friday night.

You grabbed your phone and opened the groups Instagram, @Yourmiracle, not waiting for Yohan to respond. Yohan plopped down beside you on the small couch that was in the room. He wrapped his arm underneath your waist and rest his head on your chest.

Yohan was naturally cuddly so you didn’t say anything, pressing the live button. It didn’t take long for Miras to immediately start rushing in.

“Hi hi~! Miras, I have a special gift for you today: Sweaty Yohan!” You grinned, panning your phone down to get Yohan in frame.

He rolled his eyes and used his free hand to push it away. You laughed and steady your hand, making sure only the top of his hair was in frame. Your hand absentmindedly began to play with his hair as you read the comments flooding in.

“Yohan’s hair looks fried?” You read, snickering when Yohan let out a disgruntled grunt. “Miras are saying you should do black hair for the next comeback.”

“If I do black I can’t die my hair ever again,” Yohan whined, burying his face into your neck.

You flinched at his sweat now touching your neck,“You’re sweaty!! Get off, Hannie.” Though you made no real attempt to push Yohan away.

→ Their boyfriends are gonna be so mad ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

One of the comments caught your eye. Boyfriends? Who could they be talking about? You began paying more attention as a few other comments either told the person to shut up or began joking around with them as well.

They did mean Doha? Maybe they just meant Yohan’s boyfriend would be mad.

Yohan suddenly yawned as he moved to sit up, his face fully showing now. He rubbed at his eyes before pressing his nose against your cheek.

“End the live I wanna go home now.”

“Haha, now you wanna go home?” You teased, “you had me here for almost two hours, just to show me some dance moves! You can sit still for thirty minutes.”

A displeased grunt left Yohan as he pulled away a bit, a pout on his lips. He was obviously trying to do puppy dog eyes at you. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, turning your attention back to comments.

“Hyungie…” Yohan whined again as he reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His face was inches from yours—his nose brushed against yours, causing you to flinch. “Please..? For your favorite member?”

All you could really think about was the fact he wasn’t your favorite member. Not the fact that this could be viewed as oddly romantic.

“Who said you were my favorite?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “My favorite is Hyo—!”

Yohan squished your face as he glared at you. Your lips were now puckered out, eyes wide as you stared at Yohan in shock. The phone was almost slipping out of your hand, forgetting all about keeping it steady.

“Really? I’m not your favorite?” Yohan whispered, his eyes gazing into yours. You blinked, wondering what on Earth was happening. Why was he so close?

Your body tensed as your spare hand reached up to grip at Yohan’s shirt as you felt your face heat up. “Han—”

“—what are you doing to my favorite hyung?”

The door to the room was pushed open, walking in was Doha and Mingi. Doha chuckled as he plopped down on the couch right beside Yohan. He wrapped his arm around Yohan’s neck and pulled him away from you.

Yohan released your face as you quickly pulled away, rubbing at your sore cheeks. Mingi didn’t say anything as he stood in front of you. He kneeled down, sliding his arms around your waist and underneath your legs, much to your shock.

A complaint was on the tip of your tongue as he easily manhandled you to move away from Yohan. Mingi sat down in the now free space, grabbing your phone that was still on live.

You could only watch as Doha and Mingi took over the live with a disgruntled Yohan in between them. There was something off about what just happened but you couldn’t explain why.

As your dongsaengs continued on, you couldn’t help but feel a bit… left out? Weird. You shook your head and sighed. Now you wanted to go home. Things were getting weird.

You turned over to face the three of them, scooting in close to Mingi. Doha was talking about what he did today while Mingi occasionally chimed in. Yohan was practically dozing off by now, his head resting on Doha’s shoulder.

Usually, you could just command the members and they’d do whatever you ask. Other times you would act ‘cute’ to get them disgusted enough to do whatever you want. Since you didn’t exactly feel like putting on the usual leader persona, you mustered up a disgustingly cute ‘aegyo.’

“Minnie~” you whispered, moving to rest your head on Mingi’s shoulder. His body flinched immediately with your touch. There was a slight sting in your heart at his reaction but you pushed through, using your hand to grip at his shirt as you gazed up at him.

You batted your eyelashes, pouting your lips. “I wanna go home… but not without you~” you let out a particularly high pitched whine before a little giggle spilled out. You’d rarely do aegyo as the leader that it was hilarious to yourself whenever you did, especially with the reaction your members usually gave you.

“Holy shit.” Doha suddenly said, catching your attention.

“Doha!” You said, your act long gone. “No cussing on live!” Just as you were about to reprimand him even more, Mingi ended the live swiftly. He slipped your phone in his pocket and sat up so fast you got whiplash for him. “Minnie—?”

Mingi grabbed your hand and pulled you up without any effort. You could only watch in shock as he tugged you out of the dance practice room. Doha was heard laughing behind you.

“Wait for us, lovebirds!”

Lovebirds?

“Minnie, was it that bad?” You asked, not bothering to pull your hand away as Mingi guided you to the company’s van to take you home. “I won’t do it again if it bothered you—!”

You squealed as Mingi suddenly turned around, his hands now grasping your shoulders as he stared down at you. Wait, when did he get taller? Were you always shoulder height in comparison to him?

“Don’t.” Mingi said, his grip tightening. “Don’t stop. I liked it.”

Your eyes widen as you stared at him. Like? He liked it? Your cheeks flushed before you pushed away any weird thought in your head. “Haha, yeah, it’s funny seeing someone like me do aegyo, huh?”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed as he was about to speak until Doha walked outside with Yohan on his back. Yohan was knocked out cold as he snored. Doha walked over to you two and smirked, ignoring the glare Mingi sent his way.

“Too slow, Mingi. Better luck next time~!” Doha chuckled, going over to the van as the driver opened the door.

“Hm?” You asked, tilting your head. “Next time for what..?”

Mingi shook his head, releasing his grip on you. “Nothing. Let’s go. It’s late.” He pulled out your phone and handed it over to you. “You said you’ll only go home with me.”

You blushed. “Ah, yeah. Let’s go home.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

It wasn’t even a full hour when the NSFW side already had photos and clips of the live. You were going to sleep as soon as you got home but was itching to see what was happening online.

Unsurprisingly it was mostly of Mingi. You understood why, he was handsome. Even barefaced he looked like a god in comparison to you. But even then you couldn’t help but feel bitter.

You decided to visit the accounts you got to know from before. They were mostly talking about the little Doha and Yohan moment. It was actually pretty sweet.

A few talked about Yohan’s weird attack on you but mostly on how dominate he was. Just gushing about how sexy he was, nothing about you.

You almost just went to bed when you came across a post of you and Mingi.

It was of your aegyo. Through the video you got to see Mingi’s face as you touched him. It was different than what you had originally thought. You had thought he was annoyed or even disgusted by your actions… but in the video that couldn’t be further from the truth.

His eyes practically laser focused on you as soon as you rested your head on his shoulder. Mingi’s free hand twitched, almost reaching over to touch you before quickly resting back down on his lap.

It’s after you say you wanted to go home with Mingi that his jaw tightens and the live ends immediately.

That doesn’t make sense, why did you affect him that much?

You scrolled through the comments before seeing one that made you pause.

→ he’s so fucking cringy… why does he keep bothering Minnie like that? He’s not even cute like Hyojin

Huh. Your first ever hate comment… that you’ve seen. You couldn’t help but want to defend yourself but you didn’t need to. A few Miras had already taken to defending you against the other so called Mira. You sighed and turned off your phone, knowing that if you stayed any longer you’d go too deep into the rabbit hole of hate spewed against you.

You tried to ignore the words you read, knowing that the thoughts of someone you don’t know doesn’t matter. But it’s easier said than done. Just as you begin wallowing in self pity, your bedroom door opens.

Mingi slips into your room, making no attempt to explain himself as he gets on your bed. He almost goes straight to bed before seeing your face. His sleepy demeanor is gone as he sits up, reaching over to turn on the lamp on your nightstand.

Your eyes squint as you cover the bright light with your hand, “Minnie, warning next time.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm..? What do you mean?”

Mingi frowned. “Your face. You look upset. What happened?”

“It’s nothing. I just… I just y’know, poked into fan territory.” You said, deciding to just leave it at that.

“Why do you care about what they think?”

“They’re our fans, they support us.”

Mingi rolled his eyes, “so? Just because they give us their money, they get to talk shit about us? What did you read?”

Your lips pursed as you looked away, not wanting to continue the conversation. But you had no choice as Mingi reached over and grabbed your face, turning your head to face him again. What’s with it and people grabbing your face?!

“Tell me, Hong (Name).”

If you weren’t shocked you would’ve reprimanded him for saying your name without any honorifics.

“Someone… said that I’m cringy. It’s silly, I know. But I’ve… I’ve noticed that not many Miras like me, haha.” You bit your lip, feeling tears well in your eyes. “It’s nothing serious but I wish.. I wish they liked me like they like you.”

The embarrassment began to rise in your chest as you wanted to hide underneath the covers.

“Stop caring about what they think.” Mingi said, his thumb wiping at the tear that managed to escape down your cheek. “Only care about what I… our group thinks about you.” He leaned in, his nose brushing against yours as you sniffled.

“Okay. Okay.” You whispered, letting out a laugh. “It’s so bad, I’m crying to the maknae about something so trivial.”

Mingi didn’t share that sentiment. His gaze harden as his brows furrowed, “you always do this.” He suddenly said.

“What—?”

“—you just view me as the maknae. I’m not seventeen anymore. I’m not a kid.”

“I.. I know but I’m just used to taking care of you..”

“Well stop.” He said it with such finality that it caused you to panic. What did he mean stop? Did he.. did he not need you anymore?!

“Stop..? But.. but…”

“Let me take care of you.” Mingi whispered, causing your breath to hitch. You didn’t get to question him as his lips pressed against yours. Your eyes widen as you reached up and gripped at his shirt, unable to put in the effort to push him away.

Why were you keeping him so close?

Mingi’s soft kiss felt as if he was fearful to really touch you. But as he noticed you weren’t putting up a fight, he immediately deepened the kiss. His lips claimed yours as he hungrily kissed you, one of his hands sliding down to reach underneath you and grip your ass.

You gasped into the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip in with ease. Your hands pathetically gripped at his shirt as you could only go through with the motions. Mingi seemed so experienced, did he kiss people before?

But you wouldn’t know…

Mingi was your first kiss.

Hong (Name), twenty-five years old who hasn’t so much as held hands romantically with someone.

You’d never imagine your maknae would be your first kiss. Especially for him to take the lead like this.

When his hand suddenly moved to your pajama pants, you quickly regain control over yourself. You pulled away from the kiss and gripped Mingi’s hand. The kiss practically took your breath away as you stared up at him.

Mingi didn’t look embarrassed at all, he looked relieved. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.”

You blushed. “H..Huh? Mingi, what are you saying?”

“I like you. I’ve liked you for years. But you always kept me at a distance.” He said, leaning in close to press a chaste kiss on your lips. You wished you could say you hated it. As he pulled away, he looked you in the eye before smiling. “It’s ok. I don’t expect a response right now.”

“Response..?”

Mingi only hummed. “But now I’ll do what I’ve always wanted to do.” He pulled away from you.

You watched as he got up from the bed. “Where are you going?”

“To take care of something. Go to sleep, Hyung.” Mingi said, giving you slight grin as he left your room.

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was referring to. Your cheeks felt hot as you glanced down at your own crotch, checking to see if it was hard. Luckily you didn’t get hard from a simple kiss.

But Mingi did…

Was he.. was he that excited about finally confessing?

You cursed to yourself, lying down on your bed. You were going to need a few days.. weeks even to make sense of this.

The boy you took care for four years straight just told you that he never thought of you as an older brother figure. He wanted you romantically.

That means… this entire time, you’ve been reading the relationship wrong!

Fuck, what if you had the wrong idea about how your other relationships with the group was like?

You weren’t going to be able to sleep tonight!!

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You haven’t been able to sleep in general. It had only been two weeks since Mingi’s confession and he hasn’t acted out of character since. Sure he was a bit more touchy but he acted relatively normal. You wondered if you dreamt that night.

The other members could immediately tell something happened but you weren’t privy to their conversation.

Seemed like they had a group chat without you.

You certainly weren’t feeling left out, no way.

The group was holding a small little fan meeting outside the company. It was something the company did occasionally to allow people that couldn’t pay for real fan meetings to see you guys.

Perhaps one of the few good things your company did.

Since it wasn’t a real fan meeting you all just dressed in your regular outfits and really had no set plan on what to do.

While you liked it the whole outside fan meets, you soon started dreading them. You were always left on the side lines. Although Kihyun and Mingi were the most popular—Doha, Yohan, and Hyojin still had people calling their name.

You hardly had people call your name. But it was okay. You were the leader, you were strong. Though it honestly felt like Miras didn’t see you as a member but as a manager.

How they got to this conclusion was beyond your comprehension but the company actually tried to fix this. However that hardly helped. Yohan had believed it was because of the stupid persona they assigned to you didn’t fit your personality at all.

And while you agreed, the company wasn’t going to change your branding. So long as Miras didn’t hate you—you’d just have to deal with being ignored.

So, here you were, outside in the large courtyard the company had blocked off for the fan meet. There was a slight barrier between you and Miras as extra security since the fandom had grown heavily compared to last time.

There were way more Miras than last time. Especially more male Miras. The fanbase was majority girls, so it was shocking to see guys.

You stood in the center right between Kihyun and Hyojin. Miras were asking short questions for each member but you were getting skipped repeatedly. Hyojin seemed to notice based on the glance he gave you when they skipped you to ask him another question.

“(Name) Hyung,” Hyojin said, holding the mic up to his face as he gave you slight grin. His black hair was brushed back into a cute little ponytail. “Do you know any girl group dances?”

He gave the question directed to him to you. You couldn’t help but grin. He was your favorite for a reason, though you really loved each member equally.

You pursed your lips as you exaggerated your body language, “hmmmm, maybe~? Do you wanna see Hyung dance?”

“Waaah!” Yohan suddenly yelled into his mic, “dance, dance!! I wanna see!”

Kihyun hummed in agreement. “Dance for us, Hyung.”

They all suddenly gave you some space, making you realize they were serious. You glanced over at Mingi who was watching you like a hawk. His gaze was so intense that you quickly looked away.

You pulled off your trench coat, earning a teasing whistle from Doha. Kihyun took your coat for you as you walked over to the manager who was controlling the speaker. As you whispered the song to him, you walked back to the center and tried to fight back any embarrassment.

You danced in a choker for god sakes, you can do do a short little dance for a crowd of 100 people.

As the song started, Miras went silent in shock.

Miniskirt by AOA.

You immediately began the dance to the chorus, trying your best to fight the urge to laugh. The song cut off after you finished the chorus. It was embarrassing to say the least as you grabbed your mic from off the ground.

Before you could even say anything, Miras immediately began screaming. You shook your head as Kihyun handed over your coat.

“Sexy, Hyung~” Yohan teased, walking over to you as he wrapped his arm around your neck. “When did you learn that dance?”

“You’re not the only one who learns dances in his spare time.” You answered, grinning when Yohan pouted in response.

“Hyung is getting too sexy,” Kihyun suddenly said, “we’ll have to leash him soon.”

Mingi hummed in response, his gaze right on you, “I’ll have to tame him.”

Tame? You blushed at Mingi’s words. Why did he only say I?! If any of the other members noticed, they didn’t say anything. Doha immediately took over with the next question.

The rest of the hour was spent with other silly stuff. You would get a bit more questions this time around which was nice. Yohan and Mingi were now on either side of you.

Yohan still had his arm around your neck, occasionally giving his own questions over to you.

Mingi would just ignore the question to ask you something instead.

It was rounding near the end of the meet, the temperature beginning to drop. You subconsciously pressed closer to Yohan for some warmth. Yohan was only two inches taller than you.

Almost everyone had grown taller than you despite you not noticing.

“Miras, thank you for coming to see us. We have a special announcement coming next week, I hope you’re ready!” You said, grinning.

Miras began yelling out “I love you” to their own bias. This was always your least favorite part, you usually never got anything. It was always so awkward when it was your turn and they ended just giving you a pity “I love you.”

But this time, when it was your turn, it was hardly silent.

A male voice yelled, “사랑해요, (Name)-Ssi♡♡♡!!!”

You stared into the crowd in shock as you tried to see which guy it was before another guy yelled out “I love you” to you. A few more guys yelled it right after them as you felt your lip quiver.

Your eyes welled with tears as you tried your best to deliver a quick “thank you,” only to end up whimpering into the mic instead. You were already crying as Yohan patted your back, tugging you closer.

“Aigoo, you’re so emotional, Hyung.” Yohan joked, though his hand was comforting on your back. You sniffled in his shoulder before wiping at your face. The idea that you’d cry over something so small felt like a sick joke, but here you are.

When you finally parted from Yohan to say goodbye, a hand slipped into yours. You looked over to see Mingi staring straight ahead. His hand tightened around yours.

You almost felt like crying again, which you did. Yohan took over to say the final goodbyes once he realized you couldn’t say anything now.

Mingi kept his grip on your hand tight as you all walked back into the company building. He didn’t let go even when you attempted to pull away.

“Are you okay, Hyung?” Hyojin asked, handing you a tissue. You graciously accepted it and wiped at your face. You did not want to know how pathetic you looked right now.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen guys at our fan meet,” Doha laughed, shaking his head. “Looks like they only came for you.”

You blew your nose before looking over at Doha, “what do you mean?”

“They didn’t say anything for us.” Kihyun said. “They only cared about you.”

They only came for you…? That didn’t—

“(Name), Gaeul and I need to talk with you for a minute.”

You looked back to see your manager walking over to you. His name was Dawon. He was only one year older than you, your only hyung. Miracle had two managers, Dawon and Gaeul. The company thought having Dawon was good, since he was close in age.

Gaeul was near the door, nodding her head as she motioned for you to come over. She was older but only in her mid thirties.

Mingi’s hand suddenly tightened its grip when you made the attempt to pull away. You glanced back over at him, tilting your head. Mingi was staring straight at Dawon, a strange scowl on his face.

What could he be angry about?

Dawon only rolled his eyes. “It’s just a business talk. C’mon, (Name).” He didn’t wait to see if you were coming as he walked over to Gaeul.

“Minnie, let go.” You said, reaching down to gently pry Mingi’s hand away. He subconsciously tightened his grip before pulling away as if he was burned.

Before you could even question why he was acting so strangely, Doha wrapped his arm on Mingi’s shoulder. “We’ll wait for you in the van.”

The others waved as they walked away. It took a minute before Doha could properly pull Mingi away. You only watched, wondering what was happening to your maknae. So weird.

You shook your head and walked over to Dawon and Gaeul. They stopped whatever conversation they had to look over at you. Dawon was good at hiding his emotions so you knew not to look at him for any answers.

Gaeul however was practically bouncing on the ball of her heels. “(Name)! I have good news for you.” She said, a grin spread on her lips.

“What is it?”

“So,” she started, clearing her throat. “You know how I’ve been trying to get the company to stop with the ridiculous boyfriend marketing… and while I haven’t gotten anywhere—they are changing the marketing for you specifically!”

You glanced over at Dawon who only nodded. “Change my marketing? Why are they changing their mind?”

“Because of this!” Gaeul pulled out her phone and showed a picture. It took a minute before you could properly understand what the picture meant.

It was of a list, a ranking of male idols favorited by gay/bisexual men. And you were in top twenty?!

“None of the members ever made it to the top fifty but you shot up to top twenty in only three weeks!” She squealed. “Ever since the whole choker performance, your fancam went viral outside of Miras space and hit it within the gay men community.”

Dawon hummed. “They found you sexy mostly.” He pulled out his own phone to show you something. “The sales of your solo photo book sold out quickly, even though you were usually the one to have more than half left.”

You tried not to be upset at Dawon’s slight dig. It wasn’t like he was wrong.

“But!” Gaeul cut in, the excitement not leaving her face. “They don’t only find you sexy, they find you cute!”

“Was it because of the Cinderella costume?” You asked, frowning slightly.

“No. Well they did like that but someone started posting old videos of you before the company started making you tone down your personality—they love your real personality the most! Almost everyone can tell you’re not stoic at all.” Gaeul hummed.

“Okay…” you muttered, slightly happy at it seemed people could appreciate the real you.. but still, it wasn’t like it was Miras. “Well how are they changing my marketing?”

Dawon patted your back. “They’re making you do a special stage in a month for the comeback.”

“Like a solo song..?”

“Yup! It’s technically a test to how well solo songs in albums will do but also to see just how much these fanboys will do cheer you on.” Gaeul grinned. “Aren’t you excited?! You no longer have to put on a fake act anymore for the cameras.”

“Though it’s not like you were exactly good at it,” Dawon laughed, poking your cheek. “You could only keep the persona for a second before cracking. You’re too sweet.”

You blushed, pushing his hand away. “How will the boys feel about this..? I don’t want to do anything to strain our relationship, it only feels like recently that they’ve…”

“I’ll talk to them.” Dawon said. “I was the one to tell them about you first anyway, I can do it again.”

Gaeul nodded. “I think they’ll be happy for you. Besides you’ve guys done solid stages before when preforming other people’s songs, this time you’re preforming an original song. You’ll finally get solo activities!”

Your ears peaked up at that. Solo activities? Almost everyone else had attended an event or interview by themselves at least once. You had none…

Maybe this was your big break..? Not to leave the group, but to finally not feel like a filler member?

“Anyway,” Gaeul said, breaking your thoughts. “You’ll learn more when we get close to the mini album promotion. All I know is that you’ll preform the solo song before the album comes out to draw out hype.”

That made your heart drop to your ass. You..? You alone?! No one way the company was going to use you to draw out hype. It felt whiplash—the filler member to being used for promotion.

You needed to rest and cry and laugh in excitement and fear.

After promising to not tell the other members until Dawon did, you walked to the van outside. The members didn’t seem to care about what happened or at the very least knew you probably wouldn’t tell them.

You moved to sit down beside Hyojin, putting on your seatbelt. However, just as the driver was about to drive, Mingi suddenly made Hyojin switch seats so now he sat in the middle, you right beside him.

Mingi didn’t say anything as he just pulled out his phone and typed away. You could only stare at him before shaking your head, unable to stop the slight smile on your lips.

He was so clingy.

The drive was quick as you all made it back to the apartment complex. Everyone immediately went to their room, ready to drop dead and sleep.

Mingi seemed to want to take care of you tonight as he decided to cook instead of ordering takeout.

As you watched him cook, being forced to sit down in the dining room when you tried to help, you couldn’t help but wonder why Mingi liked you. You didn’t believe you treated him any different from the others.

Each member had a cute nickname that you gave them.

Hannie for Yohan.

Hyunnie for Kihyun.

Dodo for Doha, (he hated it).

Jinnie for Hyojin.

Minnie for Mingi.

You would take each of them out for solo dinner dates once a month, speaking of which you need to plan them before September ends. Each of them got a thoughtful gift for their birthdays. You gave each of them affection, if they wanted, Doha wasn’t exactly into skinship.

What was it that made Mingi fall for you?

Was it your looks? But you were never complimented on your looks. Past companies even refused you because you didn’t have the ‘idol looks’ despite being a great singer and dancer.

Maybe he just wrongly assumed that he had romantic feelings for you… Yeah, that makes more sense.

No way someone like Mingi could ever—

“—stop thinking.”

Your back straightened up as you felt Mingi’s breath tease the tip of your ear. You stayed still, waiting to see what he was planning to do. How did he even know you were thinking?

“I can’t leave you alone with your thoughts for too long,” Mingi muttered, sighing softly. “You always manage to destroy any self worth I try to build within you.”

“How’d you…?” You whispered.

“There’s a certain face you make.” He said. “It’s obvious now—to me at least. I don’t know about the others. I usually pay attention to you alone.”

“Only me?”

Mingi pulled away from you, walking back to the kitchen. You didn’t even hear him walk over to you. He really was a light walker. Mingi came back after a minute or so with a bowl of noodles. It wasn’t anything extravagant—you guys needed to go grocery shopping.

“Eat, Hyung.” Mingi said, handing you a pair of chopsticks. “I’ll be sad if you don’t eat everything.” A smirk pulled on his lips as you grabbed the chopsticks.

Of course he’d guilt trip you. Hopefully the noodles are good.

Mingi sat down across from you, watching you eat.

“Where’s your bowl?”

“I’ll eat after you.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“So I can watch you. You’re cute when you eat.”

“Cute—?!”

“Mhm,” he hummed absentmindedly. “I don’t know why the company made me the ‘golden retriever boyfriend’ it suits you more.”

“The whole assigned personality traits we were given were so stupid.” You said honestly. You always made a point to never talk badly about the company in front of the others. But you thought back to what Mingi had said, he wasn’t a kid anymore.

Maybe you needed to change how you treat him. While he hasn’t directly complained, he must be upset about you treating him as if he was still the clueless naive seventeen year old.

But then you’d have to grapple with the thought that he’d never need you anymore…

That’s all you were good for, being needed? The company had said that you were the last member to be added. They just needed an extra vocalist and you were the only trainee that could carry a high note without straining. You were last place then just like now. Perhaps you’re just scared.

Scared that Mingi and everyone else will realize how much better they would be without you.

“I thought I told you to stop thinking.”

You blinked as you glanced up, seeing an irritated Mingi. He sighed and rolled his eyes. The thought of upsetting him made you forget all about your own self pity. You placed your chopsticks down and stood up, walking over to his side of the table.

Mingi glanced up, raising an eyebrow. He pushed out of his chair but just as he was going to stand up you placed your hand on his shoulder. Despite the confusion on his face, he followed your silent order.

His body was now fully facing you as you knelt down, inches from his legs. Mingi flinched as his eyes widen. In the moment, you weren’t thinking about how he’d take this position.

All you could think about was when you knelt down to him before, back before you all debuted. It was possibly the only time you were ever truthful to him concerning your emotions.

Your hand reached out and grasped his leg, your eyes gazing up at him. “I’m sorry, Mingi. I… I don’t think I can tell you everything now but it’s not your concern that I am this way.”

“Hyung—”

“—let me finish.” You interrupted him. “I put myself on pause when we debuted because I knew I was only there to fill in an extra spot. But I thought that if I took great care of you guys, you all would like me, maybe even appreciate me.. but then I started to like taking care of you guys. I love you all so much but then learning Miras don’t even think about me hurts so much.

“I wish I didn’t care about what others think but watching you and everyone else get the love you deserve… I just want it too.” You finished, resting your head on the inner part of Mingi’s leg.

Mingi flinched but his hand soon brushed against your face. “What about my love?”

You glanced up at him. “Your love..? Mingi, I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t deserve it from you—not someone as special as you.”

“You’re putting me on a pedestal. It’s so fucking annoying.” Mingi sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Pedestal..?”

“Hyung, you’re special to me.” He reached down and grabbed your hand, staring right at you as you blush. “Being by your side of four years, I learned so much about you, that I—”

You quickly press your free hand against Mingi’s mouth, silencing him. He stared at you in disbelief before narrowing his eyes. That word. He was going to say it. It was different hearing it from fans—to hear it from Mingi felt like a joke.

“Don’t… not.. not yet.” You whispered, biting the bottom of your lip.

Mingi released his grip on your other hand as he reached up, grasping your wrist. He stared right at you just as you felt a tongue tease the palm of your hand. You gasp and try to pull away but his hand tightens around your wrist.

His gaze doesn’t soften as he presses soft wet kisses on your hand. You can only whimper and watch. He trails a kiss up to your wrist before reaching your arm.

You blush, feeling his lips now trail up your arm. He left light bites, occasionally suckling on the skin. Your lower body flinched as you tried to pull your arm away. But his grip doesn’t loosen. In fact, he tugs you even closer.

Your body slipped further between his legs as he reached the tip of your shoulder. He wasted no time before tugging you to stand up. His hands grip your waist before you could attempt to pull away.

His hands gently push your shirt up as he pressed a wet kiss on your stomach. “I can just show you how much I appreciate you.”

“Mingi…” You whimpered, your eyes widening.

“Mhm?” He chuckled. “C’mon, let me do this.”

Mingi returned to leaving soft kisses on your stomach, biting at your skin. One of his hands grasping your jeans as he unbuckled it. Your hands gripped at his shoulders as you simply watched him pull your pants down enough for your boxers to be free.

His hands eagerly grabbed a handful of your ass, kneading it. “It’s is fat…. Those pants they put you in flatten your ass, Hyung.”

“Mingi…! Don’t—!”

“—Don’t what?” His hands grasp your briefs as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room.

You shrieked, attempting to pull away but that didn’t work with Mingi’s arms around your hips. He hummed in satisfaction as he tore the rest of your briefs off. The torn briefs fell to your feet as you stood half nude in front of your maknae.

This had to be a joke!

“You’re smaller than I thought.” Mingi suddenly said.

“Smaller?!” You cried out, feeling a sharp hit at your self-confidence. While you knew you might’ve been on the smaller side—hearing someone else say it wasn’t exactly nice.

A kiss on your cock caused you to flinch, watching as Mingi kissed the entirety of your lower half. Right on your hips and close to your inner thighs.

“So pretty, Hyung.” He whispered against your skin. “Pretty just for me.” His hands grasped your hips as he licked the tip of your cock.

You whimpered, biting your lip as you gripped at his shirt. Your first ever blowjob by your maknae… holy shit.

The thought should’ve made you throw up but instead you were feeling anything but.

“Wait, wait..” You whined pathetically just as Mingi began to suck on your tip. Your body tensed as a strained moan left your tightly closed lips. Mingi pulled away, watching as your cock began to leak before pathetically cumming.

The cum dripped onto the floor as you took a deep breath, embarrassment rising in your chest. Holy shit, you came… you came before anything really happened!

You tried to rationalize it to yourself. You’ve never even held hands with a partner and while you masturbated, you had never been touched by someone else.

But Mingi wouldn’t have known that! And you weren’t exactly eager to tell your maknae that you were an inexperienced virgin… especially that he was your first kiss.

“Hyung…”

You glanced down at Mingi, ready for him to look at you weirdly when your breath hitched. He was staring at you like you were a full course meal. It reminded you of the video of you dancing on stage while he watched.

“Are you… inexperienced?” He asked, obviously trying to not embarrass you. His grip subconsciously tightened on your waist when you tried to move away.

“S..So what if I am..” you whispered.

Mingi smirked. “I thought you just knew how to hide your partners.. but you really were celibate.”

“S..So..? It’s not a big deal..” you wanted to put some clothes on now. “It’s nothing serious, I mean I gave you my first kiss.”

Time seemed to stop after your confession.

His grip felt harsh, nails digging into your skin.

“I’m… Hyung.. you don’t know what this information does to me.” He whispered, pressing his head against your stomach. Now that you couldn’t see his face, you wondered if he was upset.

It took a minute before he sighed, pulling away, staring right up at you.

“I’m going to fuck you, Hyung. But I need to get you ready for that.”

“Huh?!” You cried out, blushing heavily. “R..Ready?! Why?”

Mingi’s jaw tightened. “Because if I fucked you right now, especially with how inexperienced you are, I’ll scare you away… and I can’t fuck you tonight because I want you to choke on my dick.”

You sputtered, eyes widening. “Choi Mingi!”

“Hong (Name).” He smirked. “I’ll get you ready for me, Hyung… and once you’re ready..”

His teeth brushed against your skin as you flinched, unable to pull away due to his death grip.

“I’ll ruin you so that you won’t want to taste anyone else but me.”

Your sweet and innocent maknae was nothing like himself back when he was seventeen. Those stupid NSFW accounts were fucking right! He did want you.

You were screwed.

Literally, but you seemed to be making no effort to truly stop him.

Four years ago

Choi Mingi didn’t like you at first. How could he when Miracle was set to debut as five? He was already close to his other hyungs, why does he need another one? Especially one that was taking away half of his lines in the debut.

The other members, besides Hyojin, were also not too keen on your late addition to the group. Hyojin just didn’t care all that much in general.

Yohan was the most angry, he was the leader and now he was losing it to you! Someone he didn’t even know.

The first meet the group was going to have with you was with the choreographer. Luckily they hadn’t started teaching it but the choreographer had to change it to accommodate six people.

Mingi was particularly angry as they got to the practice room. He walked into the room only to notice the others seemed oddly quiet..? At seventeen he was still a bit short so he had to push through to the front to see what the commotion was.

And.. woah? From what he had heard from other trainees, you were supposedly ‘ugly’ in the company’s eyes, that’s why you hadn’t debuted.

But uh, he didn’t understand that at all seeing you front of him. You were cute, so fucking cute as you laughed at whatever the choreographer said to you.

Through the entire dance practice/meeting, he watched you like a hawk. Everyone except Hyojin didn’t say anything to you. Hyojin acted normal and treated you like a person, not some enemy.

But Mingi was stubborn—he wasn’t going to talk to you. He plopped down on the couch during the short break, pulling out his phone only for it to slip onto the ground. He groaned, sitting with his legs far apart as he tried to gain the willpower to get his phone.

However he didn’t need to when you kneeled down between his legs, grabbing the phone. You handed it over to him. Your eyes gazing up at him as you gave him a slight smile, obviously a bit nervous.

To think that the company said you didn’t have an ‘idol image!’ You were so handsome—no, cute. You were so cute that Mingi wondered if you’d end up getting the golden retriever persona he was given. It would suit you so much more than him.

Mingi reached over to take his phone from your hand. You leaned in closer, your free hand moving to rest on Mingi’s leg when you almost lost your balance. Mingi’s body tensed as he felt your warmth, of course he had to wear shorts.

“Sorry, Mingi-Ssi.” You said, your voice soft and sweet. Your singing voice was probably perfect. After handing over his phone, you stood up and walked over to Hyojin.

Mingi quickly closed his legs now that you were gone.

He had a fucking boner.

Yall don’t even gotta ask. Writing part 2 immediately, it’s a slow burn in that there’s not gonna no penetration sex just yet. Part 2 gonna have more cross dressing/NSFW tweets, this lowkey is a setup lmaoo

Tag list:

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



[carnalcrows]

Terms and Conditions Applied

pariring: gangster! male OC x male reader [profile]

summary: You're a single dad, drowning in debt, barely holding it together for your daughter. But when loan collectors come knocking a little too hard, you find out your debt belongs to someone far more dangerous: Felix Marino, the quiet but infamous head of one of the most powerful mafia syndicates in the world. He makes you a deal—your freedom, for a job. One job. But nothing is ever that simple in his world. Especially when you're not sure what terrifies you more: the blood on your hands, or the way Felix looks at you like you belong to him.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, explicit violence, blood and trauma aftermath, mild panic attack / dissociation, threats and coercion, organized crime themes, single parenthood under duress, mild sexual content, handjob (reader receiving), power imbalance, emotional manipulation, PTSD-like symptoms.

word count: 4.9k

The knocks came hard and fast.

They rattled the apartment door like gunfire—three hits, pause, two more, and a final slam that made the hinges groan. You froze mid-step, a half-unpacked grocery bag dangling from your fingers. Inside it, a bruised apple rolled to the floor.

Not again.

You scanned the room automatically, as if the act of tidying clutter might somehow soften the blow of reality. But the apartment was already bare. Sparse. Clean, in that way that says we don’t have much, but we’re trying.

A soft voice drifted from the hallway behind you. “Papa?”

You turned. There she was—your daughter. Four years old, hair mussed from a post-nap world, her favourite stuffed rabbit trailing from one hand. She rubbed her eyes with the other, blinking at you.

Your heart clenched.

“It’s okay, baby,” you said quietly. “Go back to your room, yeah? I’ll be right there.”

“But who—”

“Just the mailman,” you lied, kneeling down to smooth her hair. “He’s loud today.”

She stared up at you for a beat longer than usual, as if her tiny brain could already tell something wasn’t quite right. Then she nodded solemnly and padded back down the hallway, the rabbit dragging behind her like a weary soldier.

The knocking came again. Louder this time.

You straightened up, set the bag on the counter, and took a breath.

When you opened the door, the two men standing on the other side looked like they'd been born in leather jackets—one tall, one squat. Neither looked thrilled to be here, but they sure weren’t leaving empty-handed.

“Morning,” said the taller one, stepping forward without waiting for an invitation. “Nice day, huh?”

You didn’t respond. He took that as agreement.

“Mr. [Last Name],” said the shorter one. “We’re here about the debt.”

“I know.”

“Good.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then you also know your payment was due four days ago.”

“I told you,” you said. “I’m working extra shifts. I’m doing what I can.”

The taller man walked a slow circle around your living room, peering at the cheap furniture like it offended him. “A place like this, I’m surprised you haven’t sold the kid’s toys yet.”

Your jaw tensed. “She’s four.”

The shorter man clucked his tongue. “And if you don’t have something by Friday, you’re going to be explaining that to the Boss in person. You know how he feels about delays.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder.”

They left without another word. The taller one flicked a crumpled cigarette onto your doormat and stomped it out as a parting gift.

You shut the door. Locked it. Then leaned against it with your eyes closed.

⋆｡°✩  

The silence in the apartment returned slowly, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft patter of small feet against tile.

“Papa?”

You opened your eyes and looked down. She was back, rabbit in hand.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”

She wrapped her little arms around your leg, hugging you as best she could. Her cheek pressed against your jeans. “You’re not sad?”

You knelt again and pulled her into your arms properly, breathing in the smell of strawberry shampoo and comfort.

“I’m okay now,” you whispered into her hair. “Because I have you.”

⋆｡°✩  

You made pancakes for dinner.

It wasn’t your best work. The batter was too thin, the pan unevenly heated, and the only syrup left was the cheap, knockoff kind that smelled more like corn than maple. But she still grinned when you put the plate in front of her, legs swinging from the dining chair as she kicked at nothing in particular.

“Can I put peanut butter on it too?” she asked, already reaching for the jar.

“Only if you save a piece for Mr. Bun.”

“I always do,” she said with a solemn nod, as if it were some sacred pact between her and the stuffed rabbit.

You watched her eat, chewing slower than usual, trying to stall the moment. The kitchen light flickered overhead. The stack of unpaid bills on the counter seemed to grow by the day, and rent was due in less than a week. You didn’t know how you were going to pay off the collectors by Friday, let alone face the man behind them— the one they called their boss, in hushed, clipped tones.

A name you’d never heard until two weeks ago. A name that now haunted every idle moment.

You’d tried not to ask too many questions, but the way the others spoke about him made your skin crawl. Not loud, not showy — but dangerous. Not because of violence, but because of how controlled he was. And how rarely he needed to raise his voice to get things done.

You only owed him money because your original lender sold the debt off.

It wasn’t supposed to get this far.

“Papa?”

You blinked out of it. “Yeah, bug?”

She looked at you with peanut butter smeared on her chin. “Can we read the owl book again tonight?”

You smiled, even if it felt thin on your face. “Of course.”

⋆｡°✩  

She fell asleep curled beside you on the couch, mid-sentence, head tucked against your arm. The copy of The Owl Who Wasn’t Afraid of the Dark lay open in your lap, thumb still pressed to the page.

You didn’t dare move her. Not yet.

The room was quiet now, except for the muffled hum of the hallway outside. You could still hear footsteps every now and then—neighbours coming home, doors opening and shutting. It was the kind of rundown apartment block where the walls had ears, but no one cared enough to listen.

You leaned your head back and stared at the ceiling, one hand gently smoothing your daughter’s hair.

Then came the buzz of your phone.

You fumbled for it quietly, careful not to wake her.

Unknown Number

You stared at it. A second buzz followed — a text.

[ The Boss would like a word. You’ll want to make yourself available.

Tomorrow. 10 PM. Zia’s Diner. Come alone. ]

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to. Whoever sent it would already know you’d be there.

⋆｡°✩  

Zia’s Diner looked like it hadn’t changed since the '80s. Flickering neon sign. Red leather booths dulled from wear. Grease-stained menus laminated so many times the corners curled like dying leaves. It was the kind of place that smelled like burnt coffee and fried onions no matter what time of day you walked in. The kind of place where someone like you belonged.

Someone like the one you owe money to? Not so much.

You got there ten minutes early. Sat in the back corner booth, facing the entrance like you’d seen people do in mob movies. Ridiculous, really — like knowing who sat where would make any of this easier.

The waitress came by once, chewing gum and offering you a tired, sceptical look. “You ordering, or you waiting?”

“Just coffee,” you muttered, and she poured you a cup without a word.

You kept checking the time.

10:00 PM sharp, the bell above the door jingled.

He didn’t walk in with an entourage. No theatrics. No broad-shouldered bodyguards or gaudy suits. Just a man in a black wool coat, collar turned up against the wind, dark hair swept back with the ease of someone who didn’t need to try.

He didn’t look like a loan shark. He looked like he could be an architect. Or maybe a violinist. His features were clean-cut but strangely gentle, like someone who hadn’t always belonged to a world like this.

And then he looked at you.

A quick once-over. Not judgmental. Just... observant.

He made his way over with unhurried steps, slid into the booth across from you, and removed his gloves one finger at a time. The silence stretched, thick and taut.

“I’m glad you came,” he said at last. His voice was low, smooth, but not performative. Not like someone trying to play a role. “I didn’t want this to become unpleasant.”

You swallowed hard. “I figured it already was.”

He tilted his head slightly, almost like he was considering you. “It doesn’t have to be.”

You didn’t answer.

The waitress reappeared, looking more alert this time. “Coffee?”

“Tea,” he said, without looking at her. “Chamomile, if you have it.”

You blinked. Tea?

Once she left, he turned his gaze back to you. “You’re a difficult man to track down, considering you haven’t left your apartment in three days.”

Your jaw clenched. “I’ve been with my daughter.”

“I know.” His tone didn’t change, but there was something in his eyes now. Not softness — but interest. “She’s the one who likes the owl book, right?”

You stiffened. “You’ve been watching us?”

“I have people. They were concerned. It’s their job.”

“Concerned about what?”

He paused. Then: “About how a man ends up this deep in debt when he’s clearly not reckless.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Because the worst part was— he wasn’t wrong.

He leaned back, resting his hands on the table. His fingers were long, elegant— with tattoos running across them.

“I didn’t call you here to threaten you,” he said calmly. “If I wanted to scare you, I’d have sent someone else.”

“So why did you call me here?”

His lips parted slightly, like he was about to answer. But then the tea arrived. He thanked the waitress with a quiet nod, waited until she was gone again.

And then he said:

“Because I don’t think you belong in this mess. And I’m interested in seeing how you get out of it.”

You stared at him, not sure if it was a trap. A test. Some kind of manipulation.

“Why?” you asked, voice quiet now. Honest.

He stirred a packet of honey into his tea. No rush. No tension. “You remind me of someone.”

That shut you up.

Not because you knew what it meant, but because of how he said it. Like it hurt to say. Like the memory was still raw, even if the delivery wasn’t.

He took a sip of his tea, eyes never leaving yours.

“Let’s talk about your debt,” he said.

⋆｡°✩  

You tried to read him. Failed.

Everything about him was composed — the measured way he spoke, the way he held his tea with both hands like it was a habit rather than a choice. His voice was quiet but sure, like he’d never once had to raise it to be heard.

He didn’t move like a man used to violence, but you knew better than to trust that.

“You said you wanted to talk about my debt,” you said after a beat, keeping your voice steady. “So talk.”

He gave a soft hum, almost amused. “Alright.”

From the inside pocket of his coat, he pulled out a thin leather folio and opened it on the table. You caught your name on one of the papers. Your signature on another. A string of numbers you didn’t want to look too closely at.

“I assume you know how much you owe.”

You nodded once. “Too much.”

“You’re not wrong.” He tapped a finger against the paper, not unkindly. “You took out the first loan eighteen months ago. Medical bills, yes?”

You stiffened. “My daughter was in the hospital. Pneumonia. We didn’t have insurance.”

He nodded like he already knew, which he probably did.

“And the second loan,” he continued, “was for rent, food, and utilities. You were out of work.”

“My hours got cut,” you muttered.

“And the third?”

You looked away. “Funeral expenses.”

Silence settled again. Not judgmental. Just quiet.

He closed the folder gently and folded his hands on top of it. “There are… less generous men you could’ve borrowed from. Men who would’ve already left a message on your doorstep. Or through your window.”

“I didn’t exactly get a choice in where the loans came from,” you snapped, sharper than you meant to.

He didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Just watched you like he’d been expecting that edge to come out eventually.

“You’re right,” he said. “You didn’t. But you have one now.”

That gave you pause. “…What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned back, eyes steady.

“It means I’m offering to restructure your debt. Reduce the interest. Extend the timeline. Provide resources, if you need them.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

He didn’t smile — but his mouth twitched, like he almost did.

“I told you. You remind me of someone.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It is to me.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. Couldn’t decide if this was some twisted act of pity or a long con. But you weren’t used to people giving you anything. Especially not someone with this much power—with hands that clean, a gaze that calm, and a reputation like his.

He took another sip of his tea.

“I don’t expect you to trust me,” he said, almost kindly. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. But I want you to understand— I’m not doing this to trap you.”

“Then what do you want?”

His fingers paused on the edge of the cup.

“I want you to keep your daughter,” he said simply. “I want her to grow up safe. With her father.”

Something in your chest twisted. You looked down, jaw tight.

“That’s not your business.”

“Maybe not. But I’ve made it mine.”

You looked up again, and this time, there was no softness in your voice. “What do you get out of it?”

A longer pause.

He studied you, not like a man considering what to say, but like he was wondering how much you could handle. Like he’d already made up his mind.

“I’m not the villain you think I am,” he said finally. “But I’ve been one before. I know what it takes to get out.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Your hands curled around your coffee cup, suddenly aware of the chipped ceramic, the cool air from the vents brushing your neck. A waitress refilled a glass of soda at another table. The world kept moving.

He stood slowly, gathering the folder and slipping it back into his coat.

“You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” he said. “But I’ll have someone drop off the new terms tomorrow. Look them over. Think about your kid.”

He turned to leave, then paused and glanced back at you one last time.

“And think about who you want to be when she looks back on this.”

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

⋆｡°✩  

You didn’t expect it to come in an envelope.

White. Thick. No return address.

It was on your doorstep when you got home from picking Nora up from daycare — tucked under the welcome mat like some dead thing left by a cat. You stared at it for a full minute before bending to pick it up, heart low in your chest.

She tugged on your sleeve. “What’s that, Daddy?”

“Nothing, bug.” You smiled, but your voice didn’t rise with it. “Go on in. I’ll be right there.”

She slipped past you with a squeal, barreling into the apartment and tossing her little backpack onto the floor. You shut the door behind her, thumb tracing the edge of the envelope as you walked to the kitchen. The light through the window was already fading to that washed-out grey of too-late afternoons. You tore it open without ceremony.

Inside: four pages, paper thick enough to feel expensive. No header, no signature — but you recognised the same smooth, sparse formatting from the mans’s folder at Zia’s—the new terms.

You skimmed.

Then read slower.

Then stopped.

He was serious.

— Outstanding balance: reduced by 40%. — Interest: frozen, pending further review. — Monthly payments: deferred for 3 months. — Conditions:

That last part made your stomach twist.

1. You will be reachable at all times. 2. You will submit proof of employment weekly. 3. You will meet with Mr. Marino in person at a time and place of his choosing. Frequency: open. 4. You will not attempt to renegotiate through any party other than Mr. Marino himself. 5. You will not disappear.

Regards, 

Felix Marino

That last line wasn’t underlined. But it didn’t need to be.

You sat down, the chair scraping across the tile.

It was clean. Too clean. He’d carved out the brutality and left behind something you could stomach — just enough rope to pull yourself up. Or hang yourself with.

In the distance, you heard Nora humming a song from her cartoons.

And you realised: you were already considering it.

⋆｡°✩  

The house is quiet after Nora falls asleep, sprawled out in her tiny bed with her stuffed rabbit tucked under her chin. You'd cleaned the chocolate from her face, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead like always. Pretended like nothing was wrong. Like there wasn’t a folded letter in your coat pocket that felt like it weighed more than your whole damn life.

You sit at the kitchen table, hands steepled, staring down at it again.

Felix Marino’s terms are clear:

Six months of contracted work

Weekly check-ins at a private location downtown

No questions asked about the nature of the work.

No outside contact with “competing interests”

Nora is off-limits. Her name isn’t even mentioned.

That part almost makes it worse.

Because you don’t think Felix left her out of the contract out of kindness.

You think it’s because he sees her as yours. And what belongs to you, by extension, belongs to him now.

You grip the paper until the crease deepens. This is a deal with the devil, no matter how cleanly it’s written. Still, you’ve seen worse. You’ve lived worse. And if this means keeping Nora safe—keeping your home, your job, your sanity—then what choice do you really have?

You’ll meet his terms. But you won’t let him sink his claws in.

You won’t let him think he has you.

Your phone buzzes on the table. A message. Just a location, a time.

[ Tomorrow, 11 AM.

Wear something decent. ]

You stare at the screen for a while before flipping it over and standing up. You clean the counter. Rinse the mugs. Check the locks on the doors twice. It’s routine, but you do it slower tonight.

Just before bed, you peek in on Nora one more time.

Her tiny chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. There’s drool on her pillow. You swallow the knot in your throat.

You hope to god she never has to know how close you came to losing everything.

⋆｡°✩  

The address Felix gave leads to a storefront with blackout windows and no signage. Inside, it's cleaner than expected. Sleek. Minimal. You’re greeted by a man in a tailored suit who doesn’t ask your name — just waves you through with a nod like you’re already known here.

You are, apparently.

A hallway. A door. A quiet room with a view of the city skyline. Felix is seated behind a polished desk, flipping lazily through a folder.

He doesn’t look up when he says, “You came.”

“Not like I had a choice.”

“Sure you did. You just didn’t like the alternatives.”

He gestures to the chair across from him. You sit, tense.

He finally lifts his gaze, eyes still unreadable. “How’s Nora?”

You narrow your eyes. “Fine. And she’s not part of this.”

“I never said she was.” He leans back, steepling his fingers. “Though you should know, this isn’t charity. You’ll work. I’ll watch. If I don’t like what I see, the terms change.”

“And if I don’t like what I see?”

“Then I’ll be disappointed,” Felix says, smooth as silk. “And trust me — you don’t want that.”

There’s a pause. You hate how calm he is. Like this is all part of some carefully laid plan. Maybe it is.

“You always recruit desperate dads into your service?”

“Only the interesting ones.”

You clench your jaw. “Why me?”

Felix shrugs, almost too casually. “Doesn’t matter.”

But it does matter. You can feel it.

The way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s trying to find someone else in your face. Like you’re unfinished business.

You stand. “I’ll do what you asked. But keep the personal shit out of it.”

Felix watches you with that same unreadable gaze. “Whatever you say.”

But you can tell he’s already rewriting the rules.

⋆｡°✩  

You’d expected something bloodier.

Maybe it was the envelope. Maybe it was Felix’s eyes, the way he looked at you like you were already halfway his. Or maybe it was just the way his name lingered like a shadow behind every line of those new “terms.” Whatever it was, you thought there’d be blood. Screaming. A pipe wrench. Something straight out of a bad movie.

Instead, you’re standing outside a warehouse that looks too clean to be dangerous, which somehow makes it worse.

You glance down at the slip of paper again. One name. One address. Gallo. That’s all he gave you. No instructions. No backup. Just the duffel bag in your hand and a phone in your pocket that vibrated exactly once with a location pin and then went dead silent.

You should walk away. You should. But you think of Nora. Think of the groceries on the table this morning — not from your wallet. Think of the sharp suits you saw at your building’s entrance yesterday. Men who didn’t belong there. Men who made eye contact just long enough to remind you that you were being watched.

So you step inside.

The warehouse isn’t abandoned, but it’s not busy either. The air smells like oil and dust, and the lights overhead buzz faintly with age. You follow the sound of metal scraping across concrete until you see him — mid-40s, thick arms, cigarette tucked into the side of his mouth like it’s permanent.

“You Gallo?” you ask.

He looks up, unimpressed. “Who’s asking?”

You don’t answer. Just unzip the duffel and pull out the envelope inside — thick, sealed, and marked with the same insignia that was embossed into Felix’s letterhead.

He snorts. “About time.”

You hand it over. He rips it open, eyes scanning quickly. You can’t see the paper, but whatever’s written on it makes his jaw twitch.

“I paid last week,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You don’t move. Felix never said what to do after delivering the message. But you know better than to leave right away.

Gallo crumples the paper. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters. Then louder, “Tell Marino if he wants more outta me, he can come collect it himself.”

You exhale slowly. “I don’t think that’s how this works.”

He steps forward, chest puffed. “No? Then how does it work, ragazzo di merda?”

There’s a tension now — heavy and tight, like the moment before thunder. You don’t flinch, even when he gets close enough for you to smell the smoke on his breath. But your fingers twitch.

This isn’t a test of violence. It’s a test of restraint.

And you’re not sure which you’re worse at.

He laughs like he’s already won. Then, just when the silence threatens to stretch too far, he spits — right at your shoes.

You move fast. Maybe too fast. You don’t pull the knife, don’t throw a punch, but your hands are around his throat in a blink, and you shove him back hard enough that he slams against a shelf with a clang. A box of screws topples somewhere behind him.

“Try it again,” you say, low and even. “See what happens.”

You don’t remember drawing the knife.

All you remember is the way the air changed — thick, metallic, sharp with panic. One moment, Gallo’s guys were just shouting, posturing like men with too much testosterone and not enough brains. The next one of them rushed you. Pulled a gun. A warning shot, maybe. But it grazed your arm, and that was all it took to tip something inside you.

The rest is a blur. Screaming. A crash. A warm spray across your face that wasn’t your own.

You’re not trained for this.

You’re not supposed to be the guy standing in a warehouse full of broken bones and gasping, bloodied men, clutching a blade that’s slippery in your hand. You were a barista three years ago. A father. A husband, once.

But right now, you’re just a wreck. Shaking, breath jagged, body slick with sweat and blood — most of it not yours. The knife hits the floor with a metallic clatter. Your legs feel like paper.

The phone in your pocket buzzes once.

A location pin.

No words.

Your hands are still trembling as you stumble out into the alley, back pressed to the cool brick wall as your knees threaten to buckle. You press your palm to the wound on your arm, but you can’t even tell if it’s deep. All you can feel is the adrenaline, burning like acid through your veins.

The car pulls up exactly two minutes later.

Sleek. Black. Expensive in the quiet, menacing kind of way.

The passenger door opens, and Felix is already waiting inside.

You hesitate. Just for a second.

Then you climb in, dragging the bloodied duffel with you. You don’t speak. You can’t.

He says nothing at first. Just watches. His gaze skims your face, your hands, the splotches on your shirt. His nostrils flare, faintly. His jaw clenches.

Then his voice comes, low and velvety.

“You did well.”

You flinch.

Well?

Is this what “well” looks like?

You open your mouth to say something — anything — but it all dies on your tongue. You feel like you're floating outside yourself, like your body isn’t quite yours. Like you're going to pass out.

Felix notices. Of course he does.

He leans in, slow and deliberate. His hand moves to your jaw— firm, and tilts your face toward him.

“You’re shaking.”

No shit. You laugh — a broken, awful sound that doesn’t feel real.

Felix hums, then shifts in his seat. The partition behind you slides up without a sound, cloaking the two of you in soft shadows.

“I told you I wanted to see what you could handle,” he murmurs. “You didn’t disappoint.”

“I almost died,” you manage to whisper.

“Mm,” he says, thumb brushing along your cheek. “But you didn’t.”

You don’t realise your hands are clenched in your lap until he notices. He undoes your seatbelt. Leans down.

“I can help,” he says softly, fingers already trailing down your thigh. “Let me.”

You’re still bloodstained. You still feel sick. But your cock betrays you — twitching in your jeans under his touch like it doesn’t care that you’re half-feral from adrenaline and trauma.

He smiles faintly. Like he expected that.

“Poor thing,” Felix says, voice thick with amusement and something deeper. “All wound up. All that fear. All that pressure.”

His hand slides over the bulge in your pants, slow and possessive. Your breath catches.

“You’re shaking so much,” he murmurs. “You need to calm down. Just relax.”

You don’t. Can’t. But your hips twitch anyway.

Felix is patient. Cruel in his gentleness. His fingers undo your jeans with practised ease, and the second he wraps his hand around your cock— warm, firm, steady— you nearly choke on a gasp. The pleasure spikes sharply and fast, edged with guilt and something darker.

You shouldn’t want this. Not now. Not here. Not after—

“Don’t think,” he says quietly. “Just feel.”

Your head hits the seat behind you. Your hands tremble uselessly in your lap as he strokes you—not fast, not slow, just right. His thumb circles the head on every upward pull, milking soft, breathless moans out of you.

“You’ve been good,” he whispers, voice like velvet steel. “Brave. I take care of what’s mine.”

You don’t know when that happened — when you became his. But it’s too late now. His hand keeps working you through it, coaxing you toward a high you didn’t ask for but can’t stop chasing. Heat pools low in your belly. Your eyes squeeze shut. You’re going to—

“Come for me,” he breathes, leaning in. “That’s it. Let go.”

And you do.

It rips out of you like a sob. Messy. Shuddering. You curl in on yourself as your body wracks with release, nerves flayed raw.

Felix doesn’t flinch at the mess. He just wipes his hand, then guides your head down to rest against his shoulder. You’re still panting, still dazed, blood drying on your clothes — and he strokes your hair like you’re something precious.

Like you're his favourite broken thing.

⋆｡°✩  

You leave the bathroom light on.

Not because Nora’s scared of the dark anymore. She’s been sleeping through the night since she was three. It’s for you.

You’re the one who wakes up in cold sweats now. You’re the one who flinches at door hinges creaking and cars idling too long outside the window. You’re the one staring at the nursery monitor like something might crawl through it.

There’s no crying. Just the soft hum of static.

She’s curled up on her side, one arm flung above her head, mouth open in that completely unselfconscious way only kids manage. Her stuffed bear is trapped beneath her chest like a casualty, and you don’t dare move it. You don’t dare move anything.

You sit on the edge of your bed, clothes still crusted in spots with things you scrubbed off hours ago. You’re not sure how you’re still breathing. Or why you are.

Your hands shake. Not like before—this is quieter. Numb.

Your phone buzzes once on the nightstand. You don’t check it. You already know who it is.

You already know what he’ll say. Good work. I told you you could handle it. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment or a warning.

The monitor hisses softly, then goes silent. You keep watching it anyway.

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[n1ght0f-nyx]

giving him a fast and rough handjob that lasts what feels like several hours, he lays on the bed, his thighs squirming and clenching as you bully his sticky cock, he has cum a bazillion times, cum pooling at his thighs and stomach "oh god.. please mommy..i need more...d-d-dont stop!!" he begs and pleads, and you cant help but grin "don't worry babyboy...i wasn't planning on it~"