↳ ❝ EVERY INCH OF YOU IS MINE TO TOUCH. ❞
⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯ yandere!mafia boss x male!reader
「 Once upon a time, Y/n saved an injured boy and nursed him back to health. And now years later, the same boy comes back to Y/n, now the leader of a powerful syndi...
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STAY WITH HIM FOREVER? No, that couldn't possibly be right. The man in front of Y/n was dangerous, cunning—he could kill Y/n any moment: just a small press of the trigger, just a stab to his chest—so why was Andrei treating him with such love, such affection? Andrei was not only a member of the Mafia; he was the Tsar. The ruler. The leader. The most heartless being.
And that very heartless being was tipping Y/n's chin up now, smiling. It was a smug smile: but it wasn't those infuriating ones, but the charming, charismatic kind. Y/n found his eyes fixated on that very expression, before he reminded himself of the situation he was in, and tore his eyes away.
His throat felt like sandpaper as he answered: "I'm sorry, Tsar. I don't recall..."
Y/n trailed off feebly. He didn't dare to finish the sentence: because any member of the Mafia was sure to have a screw loose in their head. Perhaps if something irked Andrei the slightest bit, he would not hesitate to change his mind. The minds of crazed one's could be fickle, ever changing, and Y/n did not dare to risk it. He simply couldn't risk it. So instead, he shut his mouth and pressed it in a straight line.
In a way, it was a sign of insolence. But the chances of getting killed would be lower. Y/n waited, with bated breath, for the verdict. Will I be killed, he wondered, or will I be spared? And the answer was proved to be the latter when all Andrei did was laugh and chuckle. Dimples appeared on his sinfully handsome face when he smiled, and Y/n felt Andrei's fingers move along his jaw, to his lips, before hovering...
"Your expression. How cute," he murmured, "oh, Y/n. You haven't changed. Not one bit."
"..." Y/n didn't answer. He felt himself slowly rise to his feet, a fur coat being placed on his shoulders—faux fur, yet still ridiculously expensive—and then a hand snaking around his waist. Y/n felt like a deer lost in headlights. He was stumbling around like a newborn fawn, horrified by the violence he had just witnessed, and the rigid dichotomy of Andrei that he had seen in mere minutes.
He had heard Andrei kill Ivan. Yet Y/n had also felt firsthand the tenderness of the touch. Was there something truly...did they really have a connection, before all this? Y/n's memories were a blur: it was jarring, the fact that he truly didn't remember anything about his childhood, except his mother screaming: beer bottles being crashed on the floor, the overflowing debt payments. How much did Y/n owe the man in front of him, really?
"I'm sorry," Y/n shook his head, swallowing. "For the—the—money..."
Andrei looked at Y/n for a second, before he burst out into laughter.
"Money!" Andrei repeated, "you think I went to find you for the money? Oh, no, my sweet, you couldn't have gotten it more wrong."
The tips of Y/n's ears turned red at the nickname. Yet he straightened his posture.
