#and you know those two would LOVE to prove that point

[slvttyplum]

sukuna and valentine’s day—ever think you would see those three words together? sukuna didn’t get the whole point of valentine’s day but did it anyway just for you, still grumpy and groaning while picking out your favorite things from the store. “here, i got you the damn flowers and chocolates; now stop pestering me.” looking at your smile made his heart full; he couldn’t help but make you happy even if that meant spending money on a “holiday” he denied time and time again. of course, that was just the end result. smiling at you for a few seconds before he began to whine again. he did the same shit every year where the both of you would go back and forth about valentine’s day, and he would groan, saying he wasn’t getting you anything. “use your brain! this is what they want you to do; i’m not getting that damn bag.” then, in the next breath, he would ask how much the purse was—“just in case”—while saying there was only a five percent chance of that happening. sukuna didn’t know peace; he always found a way to put his two cents in when it was time to celebrate something. after finally getting to valentine’s day and admiring how beautiful you looked, his eyes full of love, he just couldn’t let you have the last word. it was foreign to him. he had to let you know every thought that was going through his head; it was only fair since he went ahead and spoiled you, right? “you’re spoiled rotten. i still think this is a load of bull.” a fight all over again, the fight eventually leading to the pretty decorated bedroom he tried his hardest to set up, but it didn’t go to waste, nor did it stop the argument. sukuna’s hands on your hips as he slammed into you, grunting, he tried to talk and spit out more points, but he was consumed by pleasure. he had a fucking loose screw because he was still arguing with you while he stretched you out. “fuck… i just think you need to be appreciative.” while you squeezed around him, sukuna was still trying to prove his point, but he couldn’t think when his cum was dripping out of you. even having the audacity to have you ride him because his leg cramped up, just to keep running his filthy ass mouth. it was all worth it at the end of the day, at least for you; he still found something to complain about, but neither of you would have it any other way. “… you’re not getting anything next year; i’m serious.” until next time. ;)

[candycandy00]

General NSFW Headcanons for One Piece Men

These are just some general sex/intimacy based Headcanons for some of my favorite OP men. I left out Law and Kid until I see more of them post time skip.

Keep in mind these are just my personal opinions! These are all assuming a Fem Reader. Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

Luffy: 

I’ve noticed while rewatching/ catching up that this guy is a hugger. He’s not shy at all about giving out affection to people he cares about, and I think that would carry over to more intimate moments. He’d definitely be the type to snuggle up to you during sex, wanting to be as physically close as possible. He might even wrap his arms around you multiple times, not in a restraining way but in a “I just want to completely wrap myself around you” way. 

Some people seem to think Luffy would be completely clueless about sex, but I disagree. I think it’s very likely that Ace explained a few things to him. They were at perfect ages (17 and 14) before Ace set out for a big brother to tell his younger brother about stuff like that. Even if Ace had no actual experience himself, he had to have heard a lot of talk from the bandits. So I think Luffy is aware of the basics at least, and his instincts would cover for whatever knowledge he lacks. He’s surprisingly perceptive at times.

Zoro:

Zoro is the one who would be clueless. Not about the mechanics of sex, but about what you want. This man would miss every signal you send his way, so you’d have to literally state outright that you want to have sex with him. During the act, you’d have to be very clear about what you want him to do, at least the first few times. You’re better off just taking his hands or head and putting them where you want because this guy can’t follow directions to save his life. 

Once the two of you have had sex a few times and he’s learned what you like, he would be a great lover. Zoro puts his all into everything he does, and that includes pleasing his darling. One of his best points is his stamina. He could go for multiple rounds without breaking a sweat, so prepare for long nights.

Sanji:

He’s all about his darling’s pleasure. He’d get much more satisfaction from watching you cum than from cumming himself. He would have a massive praise kink, both giving and receiving. He’d also be clingy and want to be intimate in some way with you nearly all the time (though he’d be happy with just cuddling, giving massages, etc. if you’re too tired for sex sometimes). He’d definitely prioritize your needs and wants over his own, mostly because making you happy is what he needs and wants. 

I think he’s definitely a virgin, and he’s the type who will fall madly in love with the first woman who sleeps with him. Once he’s in love and in a committed relationship, he’s not going to be chasing other women. He’ll still notice a beautiful lady, but he won’t comment on them or visibly react, because he doesn’t want to upset his darling or make her feel insecure.

Usopp: 

This guy right here? He’s the one to keep your eye on. Because once he actually gets some experience, he’ll be one of the best lovers in the series. The first time he’s gonna be nervous and awkward, probably boasting that he’s had a thousand lovers whom he satisfied completely (while nearly fainting from nerves). But once he gets over those initial nerves, he’s gonna lock in on learning all the best techniques. When Usopp gets serious about something, he studies and practices until he’s great at it. 

I also have a headcanon that he’s got a huge dick (I mean, look at that nose) and just doesn’t know how to use it yet. Emphasis on yet. Give him some time and he’ll rock your world.

Franky:

The best thing about Franky as a lover is that he’s completely nonjudgmental. Have a wild kink you wanna try? He’s shrugging and saying sure, let’s go for it. Insecure about a part of your body? He’s showing you some crazy modification he’s made to his own just to prove all bodies are unique and wonderful. You’re never gonna feel shamed over anything with Franky, and that’s so freeing. The next best thing is that this guy will come equipped with all sorts of toys and gadgets to spice up the sex. If he doesn’t have what you want, he can just construct it on the fly. 

It’s hard for me to decide whether I think he’s had a lot of experience or not. I’m guessing he’s had some given his age, background, and being a self professed pervert. He seems like he would be a sex positive person, or maybe just see it as no big deal. Just another way to express affection. I think he’s pretty chill about sex, basically.

Brook:

Okay, so Brook is pretty limited by the fact that he’s a skeleton and has no dick or tongue to work with. But he does have those long pianist’s fingers, and he’d certainly be happy to use them to please his darling. As we all know, he also has a panty fetish, so the easiest way to get him riled up would be to model the cute new sets you bought. He’s still a gentleman though, so he treats his darling with care and respect, always asking for permission before touching you and making you feel valued. 

He probably had a decent amount of experience when he was alive, but he’s very new to being intimate as a skeleton. There would be some trial and error and he might get a little depressed about his limitations, but I think he’d get over it fairly quickly and just be happy to have someone special in his, uh, life.

Ace: 

In my opinion, Ace would be very warm and loving in bed. Very passionate. Like his brother, he’d be very affectionate with his darling. This is a man who places a ton of value on bonds, on loving and being loved. He’s definitely going to show how much he loves you, in the most intimate way possible. Think lots of eye contact, physical closeness, slow and very deep fucking. I don’t think he’d be the super romantic type to leave a trail of rose petals to the bed or whatever, but once the two of you are in bed he’s giving you his undivided attention and just enjoying the feeling of being inside you. Also kinda think he’d have a bit of a breeding kink. 

I think it’s highly likely he’s had some experience. He’s a handsome, likable guy who traveled around a lot by himself. Judging by how he blushed around Makino, it’s a safe bet he likes ladies. Specifically, pretty ladies who show him kindness. I don’t think he’d be shy or awkward but I can’t really see him acting like some arrogant sex god either.

Shanks:

Get ready for some sloppy drunken sex. I’m talking making out as you both make your way to the bed, tripping on stuff along the way and giggling like teenagers. You might not remember everything that happened, but you know it was fun! I somehow can’t picture Shanks settling down in a committed relationship but he would agree to being exclusive with you. So you guys wouldn’t be a couple but anytime he’s drunk and horny you’re the one he goes to. And if you’re in his crew, you’re probably half drunk yourself. But you guys have an agreement, so consent was already given. Shanks would give you a great time and be charming and funny, but he’s gone by the time you wake up. 

He’s definitely had an active sex life. He’s too charming not to. Too well traveled and handsome. And while some of his past lovers miss him, none of them regret their time with him and look back on it fondly.

Buggy:

Similar to Usopp, Buggy would be full of false bravado at first. But when it comes time to do the deed, he’s strangely shy. Buggy isn’t used to being loved and cherished. He hasn’t had that since he was a kid, so he’s going to need a lot of reassuring. You’d have to stroke his ego a bit to get him in the right headspace to have sex. But once you do, he’ll be a surprisingly sweet and giving lover. He’ll want to be a dom, but will usually end up being a bit subby to you. He’d probably become very emotionally attached to you if you give him a blowjob. Giving him any sort of kindness or genuine love will make him fall head over heels.

I’m torn between thinking Buggy is still a virgin and thinking he had some experience in his younger, wilder days. He doesn’t strike me as the type to have a lot of one night stands, but he could have had a relationship at some point that we just don’t know about.

Crocodile:

A lot of people want to see him as a brat tamer, and I see the appeal, but in my opinion he’d prefer a mature relationship. I think he’d want someone classy that would match his vibe. So he’s going to keep his darling dressed up in the finest clothes and jewelry. I have a headcanon that he’s a sucker for fancy lingerie. He loves buying it for you, seeing you wear it, and especially taking it off you, slowly, piece by piece. I also think he’d be into some light bondage. Nothing too elaborate, just tying your wrists together with his belt occasionally. 

For Crocodile, the most intimate act would be showering together. Because of his weakness to water, he’s incredibly vulnerable while showering, so he’s only going to invite you to join him if he trusts you completely. Doesn’t get more intimate than that.

Rob Lucci:

He’s going to be a very stoic lover, not very verbal at all in the heat of the moment, but his body will tell you all you need to know. He would be very primal, hands on your throat, taking you from behind, growling in your ear. But at the same time, he’s making sure you’re totally satisfied. Don’t expect an actual relationship with this man. He’ll rearrange your guts and then disappear before you can roll over. But he keeps coming back to you. He might even develop a soft spot for you, so long as you respect his privacy and don’t ask for a commitment. 

The bird stays in the room, but give it some crackers as a distraction and it won’t stare the whole time. 

[ronearoundblindly]

What is every Cevans characters favorite time of day for sexy time? 😏 who likes the morning sleeping sex? The nighttime sex before bed? Or the anytime - anywhere - does not matter 😆

ksdhuifkndiuviusf;iunrfknjfi

Yup.

😱🤭😈

Yussssss. Let's do it!

Warning for obvious sex talk lol. These are brief glimpses--nothing super explicit. MINORS DNI. There's plenty of all-age fic to read @ronearoundlightly, but this one isn't for you.

James Mace

No time of day preference but does have an amount of time preference since he likes to savor you. The absolute fastest 'quickie' Mace can manage is about 30 minutes, and frankly, that's still quite rushed for all he'd like to do.

Curtis Everett

Night owl, hardcore. LOVES to sleep in. Very frequently wants sex when you two are all ready for bed and almost asleep. That's when he's raring to go. Has zero problem with you mounting him in the morning if you're in the mood, but Curtis is quite lazy at that time. You'll have to do the work then 😉.

Jimmy Dobyne

First thing after a day's work before showering...and wouldn't mind you joining him for the shower. He doesn't like to moderate how 'dirty' any part of sex might be, so it's just easier to let it all happen and clean up later.

Johnny Storm

Discussed some here recently, but nighttime before bed, burns anxiety away & then he sleeps like a rock.

Jake Jensen

Sleepy Jake is *real.* (There's basically a whole thing about morning sex in Audio/Visual...and also how horny he gets at night. Okay, maybe just read that story, I guess.) Big picture answer is anytime you ever want. Do not hold back if you want him. Let's GO!!!

Lloyd Hansen

He only will when *he* wants, but Lloyd does love to know you want him...and then deny you. Teases 'sluts' who can't get enough of him. Likes to joke he's really the one whoring himself out. The truth is that sex is like a treat for Lloyd when he's high on the success of a job, so really whenever exactly his target is fucking dead is when Lloyd is DTF.

Ari Levinson

Anytime. Has a sweet spot for just rolling over and taking you, so technically 'anytime' in bed. The shower is great, too. Or the kitchen counter. Or the living room. Or his truck. So...anytime anywhere basically.

Ransom Drysdale

RoAR Ransom here, but General Ran is moody...he's really big on fucking after he feels slighted or belittled, it's both reassuring and punishing. Not huge on first thing in the morning; he prefers his alone time, his routine then, fucking hates morning breath. Since most family events end in the evening (or he would return from a night out with 'friends' late), that's the main time he's horny or in need of proving a point.

Andy Barber

lol Weekends. Wants to go slow mostly. Doesn't care what room or position. Very big fan of interrupting domestic situations to fuck, such as (in the show) changing clothes in the closet, watching a movie, cooking a meal, etc.

Steve Rogers

FRI Steve and Hideout Steve previously discussed, but General Steve is a traditionalist. The safe answer is after dinner, not strictly right before sleep. He's a wind-down-from-the-day love maker which should surprise absolutely no one.

Bucky Barnes

Loves the super close quiet & whispering in the cocoon of covers, just you two matter in the whole world, that soft time first thing in the morning when you wake up is his favorite. Over time Bucky also realizes he's a sucker for a good nooner. There's another layer of pleasure when not away from home, not busy with work, his own person in his own head, and free to enjoy you while being himself.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Who Would... Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

For those on the taglist below, I didn't do tags for every Who Would this week because some were so damn small. Please check @ronearoundlibrary for those in case you missed any.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby

@buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries @veryprairieberry

@bitchy-bi-trash @rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thiquefunlover63 @stellar-solar-flare

[jessicafangirl]

An Arrow To The Heart

Oh I made it before Valentines Day! Whoo hoo here's the nearly 15K word monster I birthed. This started as a ficlit idea that just became this. Copia is a wordy bitch when he's doing the deed. And I love writing for him.

I also love dark Copia and him being just super protective and a touch evil...but evil in a good way. I hope you like this. I went smutty. There's smut. There's some Special Ghoul Phil. There's a dark ending. It's super self indulgent and I don't care. He's my comfort boo.

This is you and Copia. You who haven't joined the church but have fallen in love with your friend who is now Frater. You've become head of the Ghost Projects PR Department and there's some siblings that like to spread rumors you got the job because you are banging the boss and they don't like you. BOYYY does Copia not like this. So yeah...enjoy this Valentines Day Frater fest.

You can also read it here on AO3. Please share if you like it. Let me know if you like it. Let me know if this made your V day (HE'S COMING) brighter. Viva Ghost.

It wasn’t just the week, it had been an entire month, almost two of non-stop disappointments and feeling like nothing was going to work. You felt yourself drowning in work, in expectations you had created for yourself, and you were never going to meet them.

At one point the flu had decided to attach itself to you and you had barricaded yourself away from everyone working through it remotely with a 101.00 fever. Copia had nearly broken your door down when he’d discovered this, already angry about being denied the opportunity to take care of you. But you weren’t going to let him get sick too. As it was, a Facetime call that was filled with glaring, darkened eyes and a loud Italian voice saying, “YOU TURN OFF THAT CAZZO OF A MACHINE AND GO TO BED!” made you do just that. The Frater had then had a number of Ghouls show up with medicine and food that you ate some of until you were recovered.

After the flu incident Copia was still angry at you but he’d just have to deal. He wasn’t the one having to prove themselves to every other person at the Ministry and the Ghost Project. Not being a member of the church but working for it AND dating the head of the church put more pressure on you than the lowest level of the ocean, the parts with those creepy fish with the teeth and glowing eyes. Everyone doubted you had what it took to handle the PR for the project, to get more eyes and ears on things, including the new guy. It was a massively important time and….you didn’t know if you had it in you. And you damn well knew that Sister Phyllis and the other siblings whose glares followed you as you walked down hallways on phone calls or glanced into your open office door actually knew you didn’t have it in you.

The only one who seemed confident you did was Copia. And he just was too soft hearted to admit it, you knew. Everything was so new between you and Frater Imperator Emeritus that he would never admit you weren’t worthy of your position or him. Your relationship had become more than friends after the death of his mother and his ascension…you’d been there when he needed you because Copia had always been there when you needed him. And when it had become public knowledge the already tenuous acceptance you had with the siblings and others of the church turned completely to something else.

Copia didn’t know this or hadn’t heard of it, at least not from you. You weren’t going to have him go storming off to protect your honor. You would do your job well and earn your place, you wouldn’t let him down. He had enough to deal with. So it was you and Phil and the other Ghouls you had to help you became a team.

The beginning of the new Papa’s tour was going to be the death of you, and you knew it. But by god you would make this work before you rattled out your last breath. 14 hour days of prep, of planning, booking interviews for not only Papa V but Copia too. The stress was a living thing but at least the Ghouls could go for days without sleep…even if you couldn’t. Sadly that become evident on your 60th hour of being awake when Phil saw you nearly fall out of your chair. He called your name and then came running over as he saw you blinking tiredly around out of it. On your computer screen was a half-finished email to Metal Edge setting up some photo shoots. Phil’s gloved hand grabbed your shoulder. “Hey, hey are you ok?” He asked.

You rubbed your eyes, glancing at the clock and seeing that it was nearly time for your next meeting with marketing. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine Phil…sorry just sort of dazed out there.” Beneath his mask, Phil’s nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. The scent of exhaustion surrounded you, burning embers and wilting flowers. You were barely hanging on and he knew it. He’d been watching it unfold. He knew why you were pushing yourself this much and it pissed him off. Not anger at you, but the siblings. Phil liked you. You were loyal to Copia and that meant you were loyal to Copia’s Ghouls. Copia loved you like a lunatic which meant his Ghouls felt that same dedication….though sadly for some of them not with the benefits.

Copia was a lucky Frater.

But this was concerning. He’d not witnessed you nearly falling into the floor before. He was going to have to narc, and he hated that…but he knew you were too thick headed to listen to him. So he’d have to get Copia to get involved. He seemed to be able to get you to listen if the flu incident was any indication.

Sister Constance arrived just as you were leaving for your meeting. The older woman gave you a smile which was rare. “I just wanted to let you know that the art you approved has started being printed on the merchandise.” Constance said. “And I have to commend you for the choices and the colors. It looks brilliant.”

You nearly ran into the door jam. “Oh…thank you!” You were flustered, not used to hearing praise from any of the siblings. You’d never had a problem with Constance though…you’d just never had much time other than design meetings to speak with her. “The artist is one of my favorites and she’s just got an eye for the Ghost style.”

Constance nodded, her habit falling gracefully over her shoulders. “Well, good job and good eye. Satan bless you.”

You gave her an awkward smile as you hurried to the meeting room. At your departure Constance turned to Phil who was working at his desk. “She looks like she’s made of ash and has Frater’s eye make-up…but that’s just her skin.” She said to him.

Phil let out a sigh. “I know…it’s getting worse.”

The sister sat down opposite him. “She can’t keep this pace.”

The Ghoul reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a half full bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He filled them each with a shot, handing one to Constance. “I’m going to talk to Frater. He’s not going to be happy, but something has to be done.”

Constance drank down the shot in one go, barely wincing. “Phyllis is a bitch. She’ll keep her running until she falls over.”

Phil lifted his mask enough that his grey tinted lips were visible and drank his own shot. He hissed at the mention of Phyllis. “I really want an accident to happen to that one.”

Constance raised her eyebrows. “I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Phil stood, putting away the bottle. “Don’t tempt me.” He said.

“That’s part of my job, isn’t it?” Constance laughed.

The Ghoul took hold of her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “I’m too old for you gorgeous.” He said, his tail wrapping around her lined neck in a light embrace. “Pray to Satan I make it through the melt down he’s going to have when I tell him about this.” He said as he let go of her hand and brought his tail into line.

Copia’s new office was larger and on the same floor as his new apartments, which were also larger. Being Frater had benefits. Phil stopped at the office’s carved wooden door with the shiny new plaque stating “Office Of Frater Imperator” next to it…in case the large, ornate Grucifix that had been chiseled into the dark wood along with the Latin phrasing “Father of Darkness, Leader of the Faithful” wasn’t enough.

Phil took a deep breath and then hit the button that buzzed letting Copia know someone was coming in.

“Hellooo?” His muffled voice called out.

Phil took that as his okay to enter and pushed open the door. Copia was seated at the large desk in front of his computer. His black suit was pristine, the jacket hanging on the coat stand. His black rhinestone collar was removed and setting on the desk next to the remains of two juice boxes and a half eaten cheeseburger. You could upscale the title, but Copia would always be Copia.

Copia finished typing up a response to one of the other abbeys regarding a visit in the next few months and turned to see Phil standing patiently, his hands behind his back. “Ah! Phil! What can I do for you?”

Copia’s mismatched eyes held a bit of concern in them the Ghoul noticed. He didn’t come here often so he knew Copia would realize something had to be up. “Frater, I feel I need to speak to you regarding some things, may I sit?”

Copia’s brow narrowed. Okay, something was definitely up. He tried to remember if you’d mentioned anything in the last few days that might have spurred this visit. And then Copia realized…he hadn’t really seen you in the last few days more than a couple of minutes. That hurt suddenly. He’d been so busy he’d not thought about the fact that he’d been neglecting his amore. What a horrible moment to have that realization.

“Of course, si si. Mi dispacia I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to visit the publicity team in the last few days. But you all do such a good job eh? I don’t feel like you need me as they say…micro managing.” Copia quickly cleared away his now very cold lunch to try and be a little more proper.

Phil nodded. He really did like Copia, strange quirks and all. He sat down, “That’s alright Frater. What I need to discuss is a little more personal in nature though.”

Copia paused, his heart thudding in his throat. Was this it? Was this when he would find out his cara was leaving him for a Ghoul or just leaving in general because he was a horrible excuse for a paramour? Was it Phil? Satanus….was it Phil?

“Oh…eh…okay…please go on.” Copia turned, giving his full attention to the silver masked Ghoul. Under his desk his gloved hands were gripping each other in a death grip. He didn’t know what he’d do if Phil said “We’re in love Frater. She’s mine and she says I’m three times the man you are…and I’m not even a man.” Copia had never gone to blows with a Ghoul but…never say never.

Phil leaned back in his chair. The scent of paranoia was strong in the room now with an underly of jealousy. Copia had no idea what he was about to say. “Frater this is about…”

At the mention of your name the sound of the leather gloves fingers clenching harder could be heard. Copia’s heart started slamming in his chest. He was right…this was it….he was going to be left alone by…everyone.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Go…go on.” He managed to say.

Phil took a breath. The things he did for his faith…not that he had a choice, he was a summoned Ghoul…but even then there should be limits, right?

“Frater, she’s working very, very hard.” He said.

Copia felt a tiny bit of tension leave him. “Si, I know, she’s a very hard worker.”

“No Frater, I mean she’s working too hard. She’s working herself sick and well…I felt you needed to know the reason.” The Ghoul’s voice was kind, like he was talking to a child.

Confusion crossed Copia’s face. Working herself sick?? He flashed back to when you had walled yourself away, when he’d had to basically yell over a phone screen to stop and rest. He had expected that to be enough to get you back on a healthy mindset but…cazzo…he’d been so caught up in being head of the church and in his own head he hadn’t realized where yours was. But that last sentence…the reason?

“Phil, what are you saying? What is going on with her? What is the reason?” He asked, his voice taking a tone that not many had witnessed. Steady, steely.

The Ghoul laced his fingers together and prepared for the aftermath of what he was about to say. “She nearly fell off her chair today from exhaustion. I could smell it. She’s been awake for over 60 hours Frater.”

A look of horror crossed Copia’s face. “Satanus…what…”

Phil continued. “It’s the siblings Frater. It’s the way they treat her like an outsider and the jealousy. It drips off them like acid. Not all of them…but there are some that feel she’s got her position because she’s…well…you and her. She feels she has to prove herself. I’ve seen it and I’ve tried to get her to realize she doesn’t need to prove anything but you know…you know how she is. She won’t listen.” Copia hadn’t said anything so Phil decided to just keep going. “She also feels she needs to prove she’s good enough for you.”

Copia felt like he’d been slapped or stabbed with that last sentence. A sharp pain cutting through his heart. “Good enough…for me?” He said, latching onto the words.

“Yes…she…well…all of this has built up over the last few months. She knows what they are saying and it’s made her feel this way.” Phil shook his head, his tail whipping back and forth in anger. “I couldn’t stay silent anymore Frater. She’s my friend and she deserves to know she’s got nothing to prove.”

Copia’s mismatched eyes looked down into the polished wood of his desk. The green side darkening to a near black, the white so bright Phil thought for a moment it might blind him if he looked directly at it. His jaw was clenched tightly, his lips a thin line and his breathing was heavy.

When he spoke, his voice was not the usual lighthearted and joking tone many thought of when Copia was mentioned. No, this was heavy with a barely contained anger that was going to find a target very soon. “Il mio amore…feels she has to prove her worth to me…because of some petty bastardos who think she fucked her way into her job…who dare disrespect her…my girl…my love…they think they can do this and not suffer for it…”

The fury within him was so bright hot, so sudden that he couldn’t comprehend it. Phil actually felt a little afraid as he watched the emotions play out in the other man’s face.

“I’m…sorry Frater.” The Ghoul said, not knowing what else to say. “I just…she’s my friend and she deserves better. She needs a break honestly.”

Copia turned, glancing at Phil. A break. She needed a break. 60 hours….Satanus he was useless. How was he supposed to be head of the church when he didn’t even realize the woman he loved was drowning in despair? The person that was supposed to be closest to him and he hadn’t seen it.

The Frater sighed, unclenching his fists. He would deal with this in stages but the first was you. He needed to take care of you, he needed to love you, to show you just how much he loved you. “You’re a good friend Phil.” He finally said. “To both of us. Grazie for telling me.”

Copia stood then, turning to face the window that looked out over the courtyard. It was starting to get dark. “I need you to bring me a list of those who have sown the seeds of this doubt in mi amore. They will be dealt with…soon.”

Behind his mask Phil’s eyes widened…well he knew that was probably going to happen. “Yes Frater.”

“Also, she’s going to be taking a few days off starting today. She doesn’t know this yet.” Copia bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment, his dress shoes making a clicking sound on the marble floor.

“We can manage for sure. She’s got everything so planned I think a toddler could do it.” Phil replied.

Copia nodded. Of course she did, she was brilliant. The anger flared to life again. “Si si, bene. Don’t mention anything to her if you see her. I’ll let her know.” He turned and glanced at Phil who nodded.

“Yes Frater.” The Ghoul stood. “I’ll head back to the department then unless you needed anything else.”

Copia turned and gave a slight nod to the Ghoul. “No nothing else. Again, thank you for letting me know. I expect the list as soon as you can provide it.”

Phil gave a slight bow and left the office. He almost felt bad for the names that would be on that list…then he thought better of it. Let them burn.

Copia’s brain was a strange place sometimes. Years of neurosis, fear, abandonment issues were there of course. How could they not be when you’d lived so long to only realize sheer months before she died your mom had always been there and just not told you…and your dad’s ghost never had bothered to either. Plus said father was a prick and…a ghost. Then there was the possible imminent death thing.

But with all of that Copia had learned to survive. He’d dealt with the harshness of growing up an orphan, an odd one at that he’d admit, in the ministry. Ratboy, Ratman, other names nowhere near as kind. He’d lived through it all and eventually got his payback for the treatment. Copia could be nefarious when he wanted to be, dangerous when the mood struck him.

Again…look who his parents were.

This situation was a new one. Firstly he’d not had a paramour like you before. One that was real, that mattered, that wasn’t there to advance or use his position or name. The irony wasn’t lost on him that this was literally what everyone he was going to happily destroy thought was the case. No, you had proven your heart to him many times over and that was exactly why he would, very much so, destroy those that had driven you to this level of torment.

But before that happened he needed to show you what you truly meant to him, to remind you of what you were to him. This feeling that Phil had mentioned, that you felt the need to show you were worthy of him…it both angered and confounded him. How could you think such a thing? How could you doubt your worth when you had saved him from an abyss of sorrow that had nearly drowned him? That you, only you, were able to make him laugh again, to find happiness.

Even before that fateful night when he’d finally given in to the tender feelings he’d been so afraid to dare show, to even hope you would feel as well, you had always been there. You were the friend he needed, the confidant he could trust, the one who would drag him from his blankets and make sure he ate something and would then stay up all night playing his old games with him, giving him a run for his money on who would win. No one else, not even his Ghouls had been so kind, so patient, so caring. Only you…and he had no idea why. But then you’d told him, after he had confessed his love to you, when he’d asked you why you would ever put up with him. “Because you’re you Copia. You’re the one who tells everyone how life can be filled with ups and downs but you should keep going. You care. You’re kind. You deserve to be loved Copia, you deserve to be happy. And if my dumbass can make you laugh when you’ve had a bad day then I did my job.”

Copia had managed not to cry like a complete idiot at your words…but there may have been a tear that he’d quickly wiped away. That night the video games were forgotten and he thought just maybe he made some of his ancestors proud. He was fairly certain the Ghouls in the dens under the abbey proper probably heard you both…judging from the way many of them were giving him a thumbs up the next day.

But this doubt…this doubt that had been sown in your heart against yourself…this would not stand. He would not allow this to continue. If your job was to ensure he was happy then his job was exactly the same when it came to you. His job was to make sure that any doubts about your worth, your love, were stopped. He really wanted to maim someone as he thought about it. The Emeritus violent streak definitely continued with him.

Copia was a romantic at heart but life hadn’t given him many opportunities to pursue that or act on it. There were some of his songs of course, moments on stage where he got to live out a little role playing as a gothic, satanic prince serenading a sorella from the audience. But none of those were you. Although he did know or noticed you did have a glimmer in your eye when he’d still been performing and had worn those costumes. You’d also mentioned a few times about envying the mic stand and also a fondness for the lace up jeans that had, as you described, “wrapped up his thighs like a second skin.” He turned away from the window and chuckled to himself, a plan forming.

He double checked the calendar. Copia knew St. Valentines Day was coming soon and sure enough it was only two days away. He wasn’t going to wait for Valentines Day though which would make this even more of a surprise. He picked up the phone and called up one of the Ghouls and quickly gave him some instructions and to make it snappy. Then he turned off his computer and locked up the office.

Copia headed to his apartments down the hall and after feeding his bambinos made his way to the large closet in his bedroom. He flicked on the light and sighed. Along one wall were his concert suits and costumes, all wrapped up in thin plastic to keep them safe. He missed it far more than he’d ever let on. Papa V was doing his thing of course, different style and all that…but Copia couldn’t help but think he did a better job. I mean…out of the last four he was the one who wasn’t under glass.

The ex-Papa strolled along the hanging mementos pondering for a moment which would be the thing that would make his amore the happiest. He grabbed a pair of his tattered jeans with the lace up front of course and then one of the puffy sleeved black lace shirts that would have been at home on a pirate. His eyes alighted on the perfect thing. “Ah ha…” He said and pulled it from the closet bar.

The black leather vest with the gold embroidery was one of his favorites and if he wasn’t mistaken one of yours as well. He remembered coming off stage wearing it one night near the end of the run, before you had both realized your friendship had become something far deeper. He’d asked you “Did I make their asses wobble or what??” laughing and clapping his gloved hands together and he’d noticed you hadn’t replied, just looked at him with big eyes and an even bigger grin. There was a glimmer he’d not noticed before in your gaze, something that made a warmth start in his tummy and spread out along every nerve. “Hey, hey, am I just performing for myself here?” He’d waggled his fingers in front of your face and you’d snapped out of it.

“No! Yes! No!! You…you did great! Not an ass unwobbled.” You’d replied.

Copia chuckled. Yep, this should do it. He may not be allowed to do up the paints like the old days, but no one said he couldn’t work the suits like he used to. Walking out of the closet he hoped he could still fit in these. Since he’d become Frater there wasn’t as much ass wobbling to be done but there was a lot of eating at his desk. He didn’t think he’d changed that much…and you certainly hadn’t mentioned anything. So…with a short prayer to the dark lord Copia slipped off his jacket.

The day had ended much later than you’d anticipated. You had managed to slam down a Monster to get through the last few hours but you were dragging yourself back to your office and it was nearly 7 o’clock. Phyllis, that bitch, had stopped you after your meeting to complain about changing the printers for the band shirts. Apparently she “had a relationship” with the last group who were using the shoddiest material you’d ever seen. The chat had ended with a snide comment about how you thought you had the right to overstep…even though you were actually in charge of decisions like this now and could totally make those decisions.

The lack of sleep and desire to not start drama…something she apparently didn’t have…left you to just slink away. You hated that you let her run over you like a steam roller but you just didn’t have any fight in you at this point. As you came to your desk you saw a sticky note in Phil’s handwriting in the middle of your monitor “GO THE FUCK TO BED.” Was in bold letters with a little heart and a devil face at the end. “Love you too buddy.” You muttered with a smile. The note was right…you needed to just go pass out.

You grabbed your bag, turned off the lights, and locked the door. You leaned up against the door frame for a moment and sighed, running your fingers through your hair in the hopes you wouldn’t look like you felt. For a moment you wondered how Copia was doing. You missed him having not seen him for the last few days as everyone was going 100 mph. He had enough on his plate to deal with being Frater and you didn’t want to distract him. He was having to deal with things you could never imagine all while giving up playing to a crowd he loved.

You didn’t think you’d be great company that night anyway. You didn’t even know if you had it in you to microwave something before passing out. With a sigh you pushed away from the door and headed upstairs to your apartment. Maybe you’d text him to see how he was doing. You were just getting ready to pull your phone from you pocket when you glanced up at your door. Stuck to the wood was a black envelope with your name written in silver. You recognized the handwriting. “What….?” You said aloud, pulling it off the door and opening it.

Inside was a black piece of stationary and in the same silver script were the words “Come to my rooms now. – C.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. This wasn’t a request…that was written as an order. Lord, what had you done now? How had you managed to piss him off too after not even seeing him for most of the week. Maybe this was it, maybe he was done with you and you were fired and dumped in one fell swoop. Maybe you had fucked up…well…everything.

You sighed heavily, felt like crying, but held it back. You unlocked your door just enough to place your bag on the floor then closed and locked it. You then headed to the next floor where the leadership’s rooms were and found yourself at Copia’s entrance. You took a breath, hoped you weren’t crying, and knocked hesitantly.

There was no response. When your realized that you tried the door knob and it turned easily. With more than a little trepidation, you stepped inside. You glanced around in awe. The room was dark other than probably 20 or more candles lit and standing around along with the blazing fireplace. On the dining table were more candles and on the coffee table was a massive bouquet of black and red roses. The scent mixed with that of the candles, something spicy and elegant, filling the room with a heady fragrance.

Copia was nowhere to be seen but as you glanced down you saw a trail of black and red rose petals leading to his bedroom. You raised an eyebrow. Unless this was some really evil trick maybe he wasn’t mad at you? Well…it would seem the roses were leading the way so you headed that direction.

Moving the partially open door you were met with more candles, more roses, and his giant bed covered in more petals. It was absolutely beautiful…Copia had the bed made up with red satin sheets. Frilly black pillows set up near the carved head board that was dark stained wood. Images of devilish cherubs and little rats were carved in the design. The black sheer fabric that hung from the four posts of the bed were pulled back with ribbon. Near the bed on one of the night stands a bowl of strawberries sat next to a dish of thick whipping cream. On the other night stand was an ice bucket holding a bottle of what looked like champagne with two etched crystal glasses.

Okay…this…this felt like a trap or you’d actually fell asleep and were dreaming. There was still no sign of Frater Emeritus, the man who had to have put all this together.

And then you heard the door shut.

“Mi amore, you have been away from this bed for too long.” Copia’s voice was soft, nearly purring as you heard him behind you.

You turned and your eyes widened at what you saw, unable to help it. Oh…oh this was a trap. Copia stood there, hair perfectly coiffed, brushed back from his forehead with his beautiful eyes surrounded in black. His upper lip was flawlessly painted.

He was wearing…THE pants. The ones that looked like they’d been attacked by a swarm of razors or rat teeth, laced up the front. They hugged his thighs perfectly and left nothing to the imagination along with the very obvious fact that underwear was nowhere in the equation. He’d donned a flowing-sleeved black shirt that was buttoned up his throat and fell in lace at his wrists. His fingers were encased in black leather gloves and over the shirt was THE vest. Gold trimmed black leather and fitting him like he'd been born into it. Copia Emeritus could still rock the suit…and you knew you were doomed.

You knew he knew what this was doing to you by the way his green eye darkened and somehow glittered at the same time. You noticed then he was holding a single red rose in his hand, twirling it in his fingers.

“Uh…wow…Uhm…you look…great.” You managed to speak but only just. “This…this is all…nice.”

Copia’s gaze narrowed as he looked at you. Even in just the candlelight he could see you were exhausted, worn out. You were paler than normal and you were always pale. Your eyes, usually so sparkling and lively were faded, circles setting in beneath them. There was the slightest tremor to your fingers. You’d been drinking those cazzo energy drinks again. Oh there would be words…but right then he had a mission.

“You seem nervous dolcezza.” He said softly, taking another step closer. “You’ve been here before…many times…”

You swallowed, mouth going dry. Why were you suddenly wanting to bolt like a scared rabbit? Why was this making you feel like you were prey suddenly? Because he looked like panther a bit…that’s why. You hadn’t seen Copia dressed like this and with this…intensity…in a while…or ever.

“Uh…yes…but it’s not looked so…” You looked around. “Beautiful.” And you didn’t feel like you belonged here at all right then. You felt like a slug compared to this gorgeous man who was looking at you like that and all this atmosphere. You needed to crawl away. It was too much.

Copia could read you like a book and right then what he saw made him want to find the ones on Phil’s list and take them down to the lower levels of the abbey…the ones with the torture devices that no one spoke about. The time for that was later though…now was the time to fix what those fuckers had broken in his love.

“Yet not as beautiful as you amore.” He replied smoothly, stepping in front of you, the pointed toes of his shoes brushing close to your sneakers. You weren’t meeting his eyes, glancing anywhere else and that wouldn’t do either. He lifted his gloved fingers to your chin and tilted your face up to where you had to look him in the eye. “I’m here cara, not in the corner.” He ran this thumb along your jaw.

“I…I’m sorry…I’m not…I’m not good company right now Frater.” You said, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. His white eye was glowing in the candlelight and it was lovely and unnerving as always. You felt like he could see whatever he wanted inside your head with that eye.

“Frater?” He cocked a brow. His title? Really? “In this room, in this bed I’m Copia. Your Copia. Always cara mia. You know this do you not?”

He stroked your other cheek with the petals of the rose as he spoke. They were soft as velvet and smelled divine and you felt like you couldn’t do anything right. You closed your eyes and took a breath of the perfumed air. “Ye….yes I know Copia.”

“Hmm.” He hummed. Copia carefully placed the rose behind your ear. “I do not think you do amore. I think you’ve forgotten.” He replied, his fingers trailing along your cheek to rest on your shoulder.

You looked at him in surprise at his words with more than a little embarrassment. “No, no I haven’t forgotten.”

Copia raised his head slightly, looking down his nose and studying your expression while he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you from running away…because you looked just like a deer who’d seen a car coming right at them. “Perhaps not completely cara but there’s something missing, something crushed I think that had blossomed like the roses here. And I must tend to you la mia dolce rosa so that it blooms as it should. Beautiful, sweet, and mine.”

He kissed you then, capturing your mouth with his before you realized what he was doing. His gloved fingers were at the back of your neck, twining into your hair as he held you in place, enjoying the little muffled sound of surprise in your throat.

You’d been caught up in what he’d been saying and how true it was though you didn’t want to admit it. You did feel crushed, trampled under the simple meanness of the siblings who never seemed to tire of treating you like garbage and whose job it seemed was to remind you of how you didn’t deserve Copia.

But right at that moment you were finding it hard to think on their words, their glares. The only thing you could think of was how he tasted slightly of strawberries and chocolate, how his lips were so warm and how you’d missed how he kissed you like he was savoring some sort of delicacy. His tongue swept along yours, lapping at you and your knees grew weaker. Don’t fall over…you thought to yourself, don’t fall over.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and he pulled you closer, one hand moving to the small of your back. You heard him make a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl as he felt your own tongue dance with his, slowly, enjoying the feeling of Copia’s kiss after having missed it.

He pulled away reluctantly but he knew you needed to breathe. Copia leaned his forehead against yours, noticing how your skin was growing warmer. He felt some pride in that.

“Mmm…that’s a start amore.” He said softly, brushing his nose against yours.

“Copia…” you said his name, breathless after his attentions. “What…what is all this?”

He brushed his lips against yours once more, pulling back a ways so he could look into your eyes again. He’d missed the way you looked at him, the tenderness, the affection that he could always see peeking out. The way your eyes grew a darker shade when he’d touched you a certain way…like now for instance…that might be his favorite. “All of this amore? This is all for you. You deserve to be cherished and I have been remiss in that duty which it is my honor to have.”

Something was up and even though he was doing a hell of a job distracting you this, it was a lot all of a sudden. Silver tongued kisses and words aside…he was up to something. You let your fingers trail down his jaw, the freckled skin smooth as could be thanks to a recent shave. “Copia you don’t have to…mmph!”

He cut you off with another kiss. He wouldn’t hear another word of what he didn’t have to do. He would not hear you say how you didn’t deserve every romantic gesture in history if he could provide it. After a moment he pulled back. “You were saying cara?”

Your eyes were still closed. He was making you light headed, which wasn’t hard with the lack of sleep. You opened your eyes and tried to glare at him. “You’re up to something.” You finally said, head fuzzy from the taste of dark chocolate, strawberries and Copia.

Copia gave a naughty smile, his eyes glittering. He let the thumb of his glove run along your bottom lip, enjoying the site of the black kiss marks that colored over the pink lushness of your mouth. “What I am up to la mia rosa spinosa is seducing you into my arms. And it would appear its working.”

You let your fingers trace his chin, stroking the dimple there. He was far too handsome and you were so slap happy from exhaustion you almost laughed. “You don’t have to work this hard to seduce me Copia.” You said with a grin, placing a kiss on his chin and letting the tip of your tongue leave a tiny lick in the indention.

Copia shuddered at the sensation, fingers flexing against your back. He wanted you naked on the rose petals immediately. That was his goal at least. He made no apologies for it. But he could still sense the doubt there. “Mmm…cara it is not work.” Copia placed a kiss on your cheek, then started a trail of them along you jaw to your neck. “It’s a pleasure and I want to spoil you…” He started nipping at your skin, suckling at your pulse, feeling it start to speed up under his lips.

“I want you to realize how much I am in love with you, si? I want you to never want to leave my side dolcezza.” He bit at the point where your neck met your shoulder, a spot he knew was one of your most sensitive. He wasn’t going to play fair at all. When he heard the gasp come from your mouth he smiled while sucking the sensitive skin between his teeth. It would be a lovely bruise in the shape of his bite. He released you a moment later, placing a kiss there on the reddened patch.

His mouth trailed back up your jaw, planting a kiss at the corner of your mouth. “I think you forgot what you mean to me amore. What you do to me. And I’m going to remind you and show you.” He purred, fingers trailing down your side to rest at your hip and pulling you closer.

You and Copia were nearly the same height, granted he was a little taller now with the dress shoes and their heels. But even with that added height his hips were flush to your own and his hardness was pressed into you perfectly, hitting your core through your jeans. He growled, the sound animalistic and rough as it rolled from his throat. “Do you feel it la mia tentazione?” He managed to say, the words a heated breath against your ear. “The desire for you…it is almost painful…the most beautiful pain I have known.”

You were only a woman. A woman in love with this man who seemed beyond just being a man at the moment as he ground his laced up length into you with hips that belonged on a dancer. Copia was overwhelming you with all of this and you felt like you had actually fallen asleep at your desk and dreamed yourself into a gothic romance straight out of Dracula. He probably had the wings somewhere in his closet truth be told…he’d probably put them on if you asked. But that would be another piece of clothing you’d have to tear off him…and you didn’t think you had any patience left.

“Copia…” you sighed his name as you felt his teeth scrape your earlobe, his fingers now slipping up under your shirt. The soft, warm leather of his touch made you tremble as it found your lace covered breast, his thumb rubbing your nipple.

“The way you say my name amore…you sound like you are praying.” Copia started walking you back towards the bed, the need to surround himself in you was becoming unbearable. “But it is I who are worshipping you tonight.”

You felt the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed. By that point you’d pressed your nose into his neck, drinking in the smell of his cologne that was always mixed with the scent of the incense used in the church’s services. It was as though it was always a part of him now, which made sense as he was Frater Imperator, leader of the Ministry. It was in his blood of course.

You lifted your face to look into his. His pupils were wide, the deep black swallowing all the forest green and nearly eclipsing the white. You reached up and tugged at the buttons of his vest, undoing them in quick succession as he watched you, gaze lowered and burning. You started on his shirt next, letting your fingers linger on the exposed skin of his neck before taking on the smaller buttons of the blouse. For a moment your gaze fell to his lips, already kiss swollen, the black nearly gone and you were sure you were now wearing it. He said nothing, just watched you with lust blown eyes.

“But I want to worship you too il mio bel diavolo.” You said softly, using that bit of Italian you’d been learning over the last many months. It had the desired effect as you watched his face tense, his jaw twitch, and his eyes somehow reflect every flame in the room.

Copia’s cock became so hard suddenly, jerking at what you said, he thought it might actually rip through the laces of his jeans to reach you. He wasn’t joking about the pain…right then he ached to the point of madness. “Lift your arms…now.” He managed to say, the words bitten out in a gruff timbre.

You actually looked a little scared as you did as he asked. His voice was intense and while you’d heard him get stern before this was something new. You liked it…but it was…intimidating. In the next instant he had your shirt removed, tossed behind him to the floor. He gazed at your black lace covered breasts and it was a look of pure hunger…you nearly covered them with your arms for a moment and you didn’t know why.

“Bene…” Copia breathed out the praise and with a slow and deliberate motion pulled one glove off with his teeth, tossing it behind him where he’d thrown your shirt. His now gloveless fingers ran down your cheek, along your throat, thumb tracing the bite he’d left there as his eyes widened a little at the sight.

“Keep going tesoro.” He said and you moved to begin undoing his shirt once more. As you did so his fingers slid down your side, slipping along your hip to rest at your back. They moved in slow circles against your skin and it was distracting but you had a mission. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Copia lift his other hand to his teeth and pull the glove away to toss it into the darkness of the room.

You’d reached the last button and his shirt fell open to reveal the dark hair that covered the expanse of his chest. Like little pieces of treasure mixed in with the darker strands were silver ones that you adored. He may not be as lean as he used to be but Copia was still fit and you could happily spend hours racking you nails over him. You pressed your nose and cheek against the patch over his heart, letting your lips touch him, kissing against the beat beneath his skin. The scent of incense was stronger here, and you fantasized it was due to the heart of the ministry being there beneath his breast.

You heard him make a noise, a sigh maybe, or a whimper. It reverberated in his chest and against your ear. You smiled at the sound and kissed your way over to his right nipple, giving it a lick which caused him to tremble beneath you. It happened again when you teased it with your teeth and you felt his fingers grip you harder where they had come to rest on your hips. More bruises you were sure, and that was fine.

You glanced at the Omen inspired tattoo. You’d heard the rumors he’d been born with this…you knew better. During a drunken night of film watching (he’d seen the original Omen as many times as you’d seen Horror of Dracula…which was a lot) he’d admitted he’d gotten it as a rabid fanboy. The mystique it had garnered after it had been noticed was just icing on the cake.

You kissed each six in the circle, giving a little lick after each kiss. Your fingers slipping up his stomach and along his sides, nails scratching and leaving red trails. “All for you Copia.” You murmured with a grin as you reached his collar bone and looked up into his half closed eyes. “It’s all for you.” Then you nipped him, teeth worrying the skin over the bone.

“Ahhh…” Copia couldn’t stop the stuttering noise that came out of his mouth. You’d bewitched him. He was the one that was supposed to be doing the seducing here, not the other way around. But…but you’d said you wanted to worship him so prettily and you…you were weaving a spell with your touch and your tongue. And now your teeth…oh Satan your teeth.

He gasped your name, pulling you from his chest to kiss you again, lips clashing together in a messy dance. You pulled at his shirt until he let go of you just long enough to nearly rip it off and toss it aside. His hands immediately went to the hooks of your bra and with a life of study in the art of removing them, he had it off you in less than a second. He made a point of remembering where he tossed that piece of clothing for later.

In the next instant he had you pushed onto the bed, rose petals raining down as you fell onto the blankets. Your now bare breasts beckoned him, beautiful and full. You looked like a gift from the dark lord and Copia vowed thanks to him for such a treasure. Your glossy eyes gazed up at him, petals falling into your hair and his next thought was that this nights worship would do the devil proud.

Copia climbed up onto the bed, making his way between your legs. He hooked a knee behind your left leg, pushing it out of the way to settle himself there. “And I will take all of you.” He promised as his mouth latched onto your left breast.

You gasped as his hand found the right, massaging, squeezing, his fingers plying your nipple with the finesse of a man who truly loved women’s breasts and had spent years on how to appreciate them. He was leaving marks on you, the way his teeth bit and the amount of suckling…the sound was pornographic as it mixed with his moans and yours. “Copia…please…” What were you asking for? You had no idea…you didn’t want him to stop but…it was so much.

He licked a trail to your other breast, lips surrounding that nipple, teeth starting to suckle again as his hand slowly trailed along your stomach, fingers kneading the soft flesh there, leading to the button of your jeans. Your tits were a playland for him. Not too big, not too small. If he wanted he could fit the whole of one of them in his mouth but he’d never do such a thing. He wanted to savor you, tease you, claim every inch of you.

He released your nipple with a wet pop, his heavy lidded eyes taking in how very, very pink he’d left you and the trail of red marks that he could follow like a map of where he’d been so far. “What is your desire cara? What do you want?” His fingers moved to start stroking you through your jeans. He pressed against you and you nearly bucked off the bed.

You couldn’t think anymore, everything was just simple need at this point. “Please…please…” You managed to say.

Copia knew what he wanted and he felt it was the same thing you were pleading for. “I will drink my fill of you mio dolce amore…then I will fill you till you sing for me.” He made quick work of your shoes and then your jeans, tearing them away along with your underwear until there was nothing between you and him.

His eyes, already devouring you with a look, stared down at the cleft of your legs. His tongue licked the corner of his lips and you knew you were going to be hoarse come morning. His fingers trailed down along your stomach once again, warm and pressing against your skin. You moved, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him to your mouth for a kiss. He happily acquiesced, tongue tracing your lips while his fingers found your wet slit, causing you to gasp against him, nearly biting his lower lip in the progress.

Copia hummed in pleasure as he stroked you, not quite slipping his finger inside your sweet cunt but making you writhe just the same. You were so wet, so warm, so pliant for him. Made for him. He sent yet another prayer of thanks to the dark lord for bringing you to him, for gifting him such an exquisite partner in crime as you.

“Copia…please…just…” you were begging at this point. This was cruel, this was heaven…this was hell. With him maybe hell was heaven. You buried your face in his neck, breath hot and panting against his skin. “Ti amo…please.” You whispered.

The words undid him. There was no more delicious waiting, he pressed two fingers into you, sliding in easily. You moaned into his ear and he pressed his lips to your pulse as he began moving them nearly all the way out then back, crooking them every so often, hitting the spot he knew would make you sing. He knew when you were close because your arms tightened around him, your breathing was quick, and when you came your voice cried out his name like a beautiful Nema at the end of a benediction.

“Yes mi bella…such a lovely song.” Copia’s voice was rough, deeper. He pulled his fingers from your heat and licked them clean. “The wine of ecstasy, our sacrament…so warm cara…so delicious…I could live off your pleasure and never hunger for anything else.”

He didn’t give you a chance to recover. His mouth was on your cunt in the next moment living up to what he’d just said. You nearly screamed as his tongue delved into you, his arms slipping under your legs and holding your hips in place while he lapped you up, his slightly pointed tongue giving him an ability that was almost supernatural. Your fingers were in his hair, destroying any semblance of order while you tried to not die of a heart attack.

“Copia, my…god…” You gasped as you felt his lips sucking on your clit suddenly, almost positive he was actually grazing it with his teeth. Then he was back to lapping at you the sounds making you blush on top of the fact your body felt like it was on fire.

Copia looked up at you from between your thighs, lips glistening in the firelight, eyes glowing, debauchery personified. “God is not here amore…I’m the one bringing you paradise tonight. Sing my praises cara…I want to hear you sing.” Then he was drinking you again, lapping up every drop of your pleasure, the taste addictive. One hand moved to your stomach, and he felt your body tensing. Yes, yes again…he wanted to feel you break while his mouth was on you.

He wanted you to scream so loudly the Ghouls would hear you again and know what he’d done to you. Let them all know what he’d done to you, especially the ones who had tried to destroy your love. The ones who dared to make you doubt you were worthy. Oh Satan let them hear your screams and know that he was yours and you were his. With that thought he latched upon your clit once more, suckling the nub of nerves till he felt the release against his tongue, heard you cry his name like a hymnal sung by one of hells angels. Now…now you were ready for him.

You felt like every limb was boneless as the second orgasm rocked through you. He was relentless and you were dizzy with it. You were trying to catch your breath when you saw him stand up just long enough to unlace his jeans and toss them aside.

To say he was ready was an understatement. His cock was gloriously standing proud, engorged, and you believed it, that he’d been in pain. You didn’t know if you were going to survive this night but you’d die happy you supposed. He was stunning in the candlelight and you felt that little bit of doubt come back to you that you’d never be able to keep such a magical being like Copia for long.

He saw it…he saw it in your eyes that had been so beautifully filled with lust and love and pleasure. Glossy with it, glowing with it. He saw the doubt sneak in. No. No this was not allowed and he would be doubly damned if he would let it ruin this for you and for him.

Copia quickly moved back into the bed, pulling you into his arms, settling himself against you, and then grasping your chin in his fingers. “I see you amore. I see you pulling away. You are here with me this night and for all the others that follow.” He kissed you, warm and soft then moving to keep your eyes locked to his. “You do not get to hide from me. You do not doubt yourself cara mia, you are mine because you are magic. Ti amo. I am the lucky one. And any who tell you different will know my wrath. I protect what is mine, and that amore, is you.”

You felt a tear fall from the corner of your eye then, not even realizing you were crying. How did he know? How could he tell? Maybe he did have supernatural powers. He brushed the tear away with his thumb, kissing you again so softly in comparison to what you had been doing just before.

That one tear was all they would get Copia thought to himself. No more. No more stolen pain. He kissed you again, vowing silently to himself that would be the last pain they would cause you. “Now cara, I’m going to ruin you wonderfully for any other man before I die from how hard you’ve made me…”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. Because it was not only true but after such sweet words to go right to the uncouth truth of his raging hard on was so Copia. He gave you a smile, his nearly fang like incisors catching some of the candlelight, joy in his heart that he’d made you laugh and forget your tears.

You reached up and pulled him down for another kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue and not minding. “You’ve already ruined me for anyone else Copia.” You muttered against his lips.

He pressed the tip of his cock against you, pulling away to look down into your eyes. “Mmm…I know amore, but it’s so much fun to do.” He said softly, his expression a mix of heady lust and pure affection. “Your petals are lovely as all the roses here amore…now I shall pluck them.” He raised a dark brow at his own pun and before you could comment on it he slid into you to the hilt making you gasp as he stretched you out completely for him.

Your nails latched onto his shoulders as he buried his face in your neck, drinking in the scent of your perfume and the roses that surrounded you both. Copia gave you a moment to get used to him again and then he pulled his hips back, nearly parting from you completely before slamming back in. He couldn’t make himself be gentle, he had built himself into a frenzy and now…now he just needed to fuck himself into you until nothing else remained.

Sweet Satan you were so tight, so hot around him. He barely could hold on. How many days since he’d taken you, buried himself in your warmth? Too many…never again. He wouldn’t allow this to happen again.

He refused to let himself reach a release before you, no…even if he’d brought you to breaking twice already he would take you to a third exquisite peak and fall with you. Fall down as far as Lucifer if you asked him to. He didn’t care as long as he was joined to you in bliss.

He was nearly bruising you and you knew you’d be sore tomorrow but it was so sweet. He was muttering something, his face buried in your neck, were those…prayers? It was Italian and muffled but you couldn’t tell and your brain was short circuiting with how deep he was within you, in and out, the slick sounds making it even more obscene…and you wanted all of it. Every thrust hitting that spot that only Copia seemed to be able to reach, to make you sing as he called it. And tonight he’d turned you into an Opera star.

“Amore…fall with me…please bella I…I can’t…I can’t hold on any longer…fall with me my love.” He begged you, the lovely sounds of your gasps and sighs were clawing him over the edge. Your song leading him to oblivion.

He knew then what to do, the thing that would push you over with him. He sank his teeth into your neck and you screamed as you came, your nails embedded in his back as you each drew blood and ecstasy from the other. Copia felt himself fill you as waves of pleasure raced through his body. He sucked your skin between his teeth as he felt you tremble from your own orgasm, your breath hot and fast against his shoulder, his name over and over again on your lips.

When it had abated, Copia laid there on top of you, barely able to move. He’d released your neck of course. The first thing he did when he could think clearly was lift his head to see the damage he’d done to your throat. Cazzo…he had drawn blood. “Oh cara…mi dispacia…I…got carried away.” He licked the little drop of blood that had formed there, placing a soft kiss against the bruise.

You moaned something in response. You weren’t sure what you were trying to say. Your brain was mush. Copia was a heavy weight on top of you and you could feel his now softening cock inside you, filling you still. You didn’t want to move even if there was a now cooling sticky mess between the two of you. It wouldn’t be the first.

“What was that tesoro?” Copia asked, lifting himself up on his arms. He looked down at you and saw how your eyes were still closed, your hair was a mess of petals and locks and your lips were reddened from kisses. You were a goddess. He did not want to move but he knew it couldn’t be too comfortable for you.

“I said…s’okay.” You managed to mumble. “Next time wear the bat wings.”

Copia raised a brow at that. Hmmm…an idea for another night starting to form in his head. He lifted his fingers to brush some stray hair from your forehead. “Did I hurt you amore? I…could not be as gentle as I wished…”

You shook your head no, still not able to think too clearly. You managed to open your eyes and found him mussy haired and gazing down at you, an expression equally filled with worry and love. You reached up and touched his jaw, tracing along his chin to the dimple there. He moved and kissed your fingertips.

Copia rolled over bringing you with him, laying on his side, raising another storm of the remaining petals. He pulled the blanket around the two of you like a flower filled burrito. His legs were still entwined with yours. He knew he needed to tend to you as he was always honored to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to let you go just yet. He was happy, content…but he also needed to make sure you knew you were going to rest for the next few days. He had plans.

You gazed up at him, surrounded by satin and roses and a satanic pope that had stolen your heart. You noticed a few red blooms were now nestled in his chest hair and so you set to clearing them away. “You know…” you said as he stroked your back with his fingers. “I’ve been well and truly plucked.” You glanced up at him with a grin. “But I get the feeling you are still thorny.”

Copia chuckled, brushing his nose against yours. “Always for you la mia dolce rosa.” He kissed your cheek. You picked that moment to yawn, much to your chagrin. And then remembered you had to set up a meeting with one of the promoters for LA in the morning. With a sigh your head fell back against the bed. “Ugh…”

“Cara what is it?” He asked, looking surprised. What had he missed? What happened?

“I have to finish some work…I completely forgot.” You were getting ready to sit up and start the no doubt fruitless hunt for your clothes but Copia tightened his hold on you immediately. “Copia I need to…”

“No.” He said, voice going into full Frater mode. “No, you are not going to go back to work.”

You looked up at him in shock. “I have to, it’s my job and it’s important. Too much is riding on…”

He cut you off again. Copia took a deep breath. “Cara, you are taking the next few days off. If that needs to be an order then so be it.”

“I can’t just…” You tried to explain without getting into everything. You didn’t want him to know the reasons you had to do this.

Copia shook his head, sitting up and pulling you up with him. He grasped your chin, glancing down to see you were holding the blanket around yourself almost like a shield. That hurt a bit, but he would let it slide. “Listen to me cara. I know what’s been going on. I know of the words, the slights, the eyes that have been following you. I know what’s been said and why you feel you need to work yourself ill to convince insects that you are worthy.”

You felt the tears again…the damned things pooling in the corners of your eyes. How did he even know this? You’d been so careful, you thought. “Copia I just want to earn the spot. I’m not…not part of the church, I know that makes me an outsider to people but I love you. I want to be enough, to help you succeed.” Your voice cracked a little but you managed to be steady when you said it.

Cazzo bastardi, she was crying. He’d sworn the final tear had been shed, but here more pain from their words, their actions. Oh…they would pay. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace as if he could shield you from what had already been done. “Dolce you are enough for me, for everyone that matters. You’ve more than earned the spot and you’ve already improved so many things. Cazzo, even Phil knows it and he’s the most pain in the ass Ghoul I know.” He tried to get you to laugh and he felt a smile and heard a weak little chuckle from where your face pressed into his shoulder.

“Listen to me tesoro.” He lifted your gaze back up, still holding you close. “I will take care of this problem. You will be respected as you have earned the respect of all. Aside from this, you are my love. No one is allowed to cause you pain. Not while I breathe. What they have done goes against the tenants of this church. I am Frater Imperator…it is MY job to ensure our rules are followed, si? And I will do my job as well as you’ve done yours.” He kissed your forehead. “And you will take a break so you can keep doing your job well. And that means you rest, you relax, and for Valentines Day I get to wine and dine you…with other…activities…comprende?”

You chewed on your lip, nerves raging at this entire scenario.

He bopped your nose, bringing you eyes back front and center. “Comprende?” he asked again.

You sighed. “Understood…I…thank you Copia.” You said, throwing your arms around him and hugging him tight.

Copia closed his eyes and held you tightly in return. You were a stubborn creature but you were his and he would fight every demon in hell for you if he needed to. A handful of siblings were nothing. A grumbling noise caught his attention and he pulled back enough to glance down. You were hiding your face. “My love, was that…your stomach?”

You squeezed your eyes shut hoping to turn into something the size of a mite. “Maybe…” You mumbled against his shoulder.

He sighed. “Dare I ask you when you last ate?” You didn’t respond. “You don’t remember do you?” Still no response. A string of Italian poured forth, most of it asking the dark lord for patience, some that would have made a sailor blush. “I will keep you well piccolo idiota, even if you don’t think to keep yourself so.”

You looked up at him. “Did you call me an idiot?”

“Si, I did. At least your Italian is improving even if your self care is not.” He replied with a haughty glare. You narrowed your eyes at him and it was adorable even though you looked like you might kill him. That was part of the appeal actually. He quickly kissed your nose. “Here viper.” He reached over and grabbed the bowl of strawberries. “Eat some of these and I’ll order some dinner from the kitchen.”

You bit into one of the strawberries even though you were still pouting while Copia grabbed his cell phone off the stand and called down. He spoke quickly and in Italian so you didn’t know what all he was saying, though you did catch something about rigatoni. Hopefully he wasn’t trying to feed you his rat. While he was talking one of the berries fairly erupted with juice and you managed to catch it on your fingers but mostly your chin. Before you could react he reached over and caught it on his thumb, brining it to his lips and sucking it away with a fiery glance at you. Seriously…always thorny.

You went to grab the bottle of champagne and he clicked off the phone and grabbed it from your hand. “Not yet tesoro. You need real food in your belly before you drink the devils nectar.”

“Seriously…you are denying me booze?” You asked him with a pout.

“Food first, then bubbly.” He put the bottle on the nightstand. “Now I take care of you before dinner…and no more pouting.”

Copia took all the care of you, cleaning you up before smacking your behind and making you take a shower with him in what you’d started calling Satan’s Hot Springs. When you got out Copia had had one of your pajama sets delivered, the Star Wars one that had Darth Vader stating he was your daddy. You knew he’d made them pick this one on purpose. You ate your fill of pasta and bread and finally got your glass of champagne.

By then it was close to midnight and you were barely functioning. A full belly, the effects of the alcohol and having been up for nearly 3 days and being ravished into oblivion caught up to you. You barely made it back to the freshly made bed. “When…they do this?” You managed to mumble as you settled down.

“Ghouls are quick and sneaky cara, never forget that.” Copia replied. He was weary as well, but he planned on having you sleep here tonight and every night he could.

Decked out in the Dawn of the Dead pj’s you got him for Yule the previous year he looked adorable and the minute he laid down beside you, you had curled up against him and nestled up close. “Mmph…body pillow.” You muttered, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Copia smiled, kissing the top of your head. “Si, Frater Pillow, that’s me…hehe.” He snuggled in and clapped his hands, the lights going off.

You sighed. “Really…need to get you…an Alexa.”

“Shh…you’ll hurt mio amico Clapper’s feelings. Go to sleep.” He replied.

You slept…a long time. At some point Copia had left but you were in a near coma, not even noticing or missing the fact that your normal alarm wasn’t going off. When you did wake up it was to your shock and surprise 3 in the afternoon. You sat up in shock, completely disoriented and needing to pee like a race horse. After taking care of that business you came back into Copia’s bedroom to find a letter on the nightstand. It was written on his personal rat and heart stationary.

“My baby, Rest, relax, EAT. I’ll see you tonight. EAT. <3 C.”

Well, that was clear enough. You headed back to your own rooms and changed into some comfy, not PJ clothing and headed out to do…well…nothing. You hit a book store, grabbed a couple books and a coffee that was three times normal price. You ate a very late lunch of a giant cheeseburger and fries that would have made the devil weep they were so good. You weren’t used to this sort of ease anymore and it made you a little weirded out. You kept looking at your phone and there were no messages from anyone. No fires to put out. The only message you got was one from your satanic boy toy that read “I need proof you are eating” You sent him back a picture of the cheeseburger and fries. His response was the single word “ENVY.”

You got back to the abbey at around 7pm and went to Copia’s rooms after changing into your Incredible Hulk pj’s, deciding whoever saw you could deal with your love of the big green. You knocked on the door and he immediately opened it and pulled you into his arms, peppering your face with kisses.

“You already look happier my baby.” He said. “How do you feel?”

“It was weird to relax and not get calls…but…it was nice.” You replied liking the way he filled out his faded Stryper shirt. The story behind it and how he got it and why he wore it was hilarious. It paired well with his black sweat pants.

“Bene, it is good for you. And that cheeseburger!” He made a chefs kiss gesture. “You’ll have to take me there, I must have one.” He gestured to his couch. “Now, I must sadly murder you as only Sub Zero can.”

“Ah, it’s a Mortal Kombat night?” You asked raising a brow.

“Si, it’s always a Mortal Kombat night somewhere.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you along.

“Kitana is going to wipe the floor with you, you know.” You told him, grabbing a controller and noticing the ice bucket from last night now filled with various juice boxes. “Confidence is important amore.” He raised a brow while taking a sip from his own juice box and draining it.

You managed to not laugh but only just…that stance wasn’t nearly as intimidating as he thought.

The two of you played for a couple of hours. Enjoying each others company was a phrase but the curse words and faux insults that were thrown back and forth would make someone wonder exactly if that was the right description.

In the end it was a tie and Copia admitted that Kitana was an equal to his favorite ninja. He planted a kiss on your cheek. “Come la mia principessa della lame, let us rest our warrior bodies for another day.”

You nodded, feeling sleepy even though you’d already slept so long. Your body was apparently not agreeing with the assessment. You got into bed and told Copia to turn around.

“I…I get to be little spoon?” He asked excitedly.

“Si…” you replied, kissing his neck. You curled around him and pressed your nose into his hair. You felt him relax almost immediately, fingers sliding into your own and hold your hand to his heart. It’s steady beat lulled you into slumber.

The next day was Valentines Day, and you woke up again with Copia having left you with a breakfast tray on the nightstand. It was 10am so you weren’t nearly as unconscious as before. You sat up and dug into the blueberry muffin, warm coffee and fruit bowl. He was earning all the points, and you were hoping he liked his gift you would give him later that evening.

You headed back to your apartment on the lower floor and showered. You had almost a full day till he would be free to as he said, “wine and dine.” So you grabbed your book that you’d purchased and settled onto the couch to read. You fought the instinct to check in with Phil. If he needed you, you know he’d call.

It was noon when your phone went off with a text message alert. You grabbed it quickly and saw it was from Copia. “Important matter, please come to my office.” It read. Your eyes widened. What was this about? Was it some sort of Valentines Day rendezvous? His office wouldn’t really be an appropriate place for that. You’d always told him you wanted to keep the offices as work and business only, it just seemed right. Though he’d tried a couple of times of course…because he was Copia. But if it was some sort of naughty time idea, he wouldn’t have been so…dry in the message.

You were overthinking. Just go to his office. You changed out of your t-shirt into a dark red button down and grabbed your black cardigan to give some appearance of propriety in case this was that sort of situation. Checking your hair and giving a quick make up touch up you headed to the Frater’s office.

You knocked on the closed door and Copia’s voice called out “Please, come in.” You took a breath and opened the door. Immediately you saw them. Along the wall were five chairs, the basic ones from the dining hall. And sitting in them were Phyllis and the rest of your tormentors. Your eyes widened in surprise as Phyllis’s gaze burned into you. The other four, three sisters and one of the brothers, wouldn’t even look up. They looked pale, terrified in a couple of cases.

“Ah, Sorella, please sit.” Copia gestured to the free chair near his desk, the comfortable one. His voice was all business.

You swallowed thickly and took a seat. “Frater, hello…uhm…what can I do for you?” You asked, making sure to use his title in front of these siblings.

Copia stood, his suit immaculate down to the rhinestone collar. He looked dangerous as you watched him move gracefully from behind his desk to stand next to it and you. His gloves had what appeared to be black claws on them. You’d not seen those before.

“I believe you know these siblings, si?” He gestured to the five sitting opposite you. “Sister Phyllis especially.”

You nodded. “Uhm, yes, we…we’ve worked together on some projects.” What was he doing…

“Si, si.” Copia could hear the nerves in your voice. He wouldn’t let you be affected by these insects anymore. “It has come to my attention sorella that these individuals have been defying the core mandates, the beliefs of our church in regards to you.” He stepped away from the desk to stand just in front of you and facing the five now even paler faced siblings, shielding you from them. Phyllis looked ready to rip his eyes out and he only prayed she’d try.

Copia turned to you. “For that sorella you have my deepest apologies. The Ministry is a place of acceptance, respect, we do not ridicule anyone. We do not harm anyone lest they harm us. Even if you have not joined us as a follower in our dark lord, you are still a sister to us. You help us, you serve the ministry as a valued member of our family. For that you deserve the respect of all.”

Here he turned back to the five siblings. You didn’t see his eyes change, the green turning into a near black and the white flare like a star, a haze almost surrounding it. “To break those commandments, those core beliefs set by our dark lord is to defy him. To defy the ministry. To defy me.” Copia’s voice was like ice, sharp, piercing.

You shivered for a moment, thankful that this wasn’t directed at you. What were you witnessing?

“For these transgressions you will hereby be removed from the ministry.” He spoke with finality, gloved hands clasped in front of him and his gaze heavy as it fell on the siblings. You heard a couple of them gasp, one started crying. Phyllis glared, her eyes finding you and if looks could kill you’d be dead.

Copia noticed and stepped to the side to block you from her view. She would not be allowed to even look at you anymore. He turned slightly to speak to you. “I wanted you to know that you will not need to worry about these five again. The ministry protects its own and we will not allow such acts to take place here.”

You nodded, still in shock. You hadn’t expected this…especially this quickly. “Thank…thank you.” You managed to say.

He gave you a slight bow and offered you his hand. “Thank you for your patience and grace while dealing with such behavior sorella. Allow me to walk you out.”

You stood and before you took another step Copia turned to the siblings. “I’ll be back in a moment, stay there.” His voice changed again to that icy tone. He walked you to the door, opening it and gesturing you outside, he closed it behind you while you stood in the hallway.

“Copia…what…what is this?” You gestured towards his office, voice more than a little frantic.

His gloved hand touched your now flushed cheek, the little black claws tickling your skin. “I promised you that you wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore. I wanted you to see that it was taken care of amore. They deserved to see you and know you are protected.”

He ran one of the claws down your jaw, tapping you on chin. He smiled and it was just a touch sinister. “I’m Frater tesoro. I told you I protect the commandments of our dark lord and the ministry and that’s what I’m doing. This is the core of our belief. We accept everyone, no judgements unless you do harm to others. If you harm those protected by our church, by me…you will have to deal with the consequences, si? You won’t have to see them again my baby. Never again.”

The look on his face was one you’d not really seen. His eyes were steely but burning as they looked in your own. His jaw tight and determined. You could only nod in response. “I understand. I just…it was a surprise.”

Copia smiled, seeing the nerves start to leave you. He glanced around, checking to see if you were alone and quickly leaned down and kissed you gently. Pulling back he wiped away the black lip print with his thumb. “It’s Valentines Day dolcezza, you’ve got a couple more surprises later. But for now, go enjoy the day and I’ll join you tonight. Wine and dine, remember?”

You smiled and he felt it in his damned soul. “Wine and dine…cheeseburgers?” You asked.

“Temptress.” Copia replied. “Now shoo, relax.” He turned around and before you could think better of it you slapped his behind. He turned back to you with a shocked face, to see you backing away quickly. “Oh…payback cara…so much payback.” He growled.

“Promise?” You asked grinning.

“Threat.” He replied with a snapping of his teeth at you. He watched you walk away and took a deep breath. Yes, you were happy, you were well. You were protected and loved. He was doing his job.

Copia opened the door to his office where the now slightly shaking siblings sat. He turned, back facing them as he closed the door.

“So…do we get to leave now? Do we even get to pack our things?” Phyllis’s shrill voiced asked, bravado in the words.

Copia’s head raised, cocking to the side. The sound of metal clinging shut echoed as five pairs of metal cuffs were closed around the hands of the siblings, seemingly from nowhere. They gasped, finding they couldn’t move from the chairs.

“I told you sister; you were to be removed.” Copia turned then and from the shadows of the room four Ghouls appeared, one of them Phil, his tail twitching happily. “I never said you were leaving.” Copia continued.

As the siblings watched in horror each of the Ghouls pulled a large, red jeweled knife from a sheath on their hip. Phil handed Copia his own and the Frater looked at it, letting the light bounce off it’s blade for a moment, the red reflecting in his white eye. He turned to the siblings and smiled and for a moment, the room grew darker. Copia’s shadow almost looked like it had horns as it stretched out on the wall.

“You do know it’s Valentines Day, don’t you?” He said, stepping towards Phyllis who now had tears streaming down her face. His voice echoed in the office which felt so cold suddenly. “It’s a day you give away your heart.”

[juchily]

Yellowjackets S3 Ep1 thoughts

Spoilers below ⚠️

not them buttering us up with the cute fun scenes like them playing tag so they can hit us with the horrible stuff later... I see you showtime

edit: MARI CALLED SHAUNA GAYWAD WHEN SHAUNA TACKLED HER?? ALSO JUST IGNORING THAT SHAUNA IS COMPETITIVE IT WAS INDEED VERY GAY THE WAY SHE WAS MANHANDLING MARI

Taivan taivan taivan taivan!

taivan broke up after rescue 😞

Travis is one of the girls ✨🧚

Shauna's freaky as shit... But like 🙇

That whole scene with Melissa and Shauna was gold, "You have a personality?"?? Be fr the extra gets her first real line and the writers write in a character pointing it out this is so funny

Melissa being so eager to suck up and impress Shauna, two girls telling each other "yeahhh", Melissa wants that cookie. Genlissa shippers it's OVER

what do we think Nat got arrested for when she was 24?

Love Callie for that... I've never hated her be real she's too much of an icon to hate

Im going to be real, when those girls talked about the girls eating pig blood and then having a druggy orgy I did infact go "we all wish" because do we not?? The writers KNOW what we want at this point lol

did Shauna know pre crash that Lottie was schizophrenic? Did she find the pill bottle post crash? If she knew this, would this be a fuel for her hate for Lottie because of her visions, miracles, etc

Lottie being a therapist... God she's too much of everything I can't even begin <3

Lottie and Travis as a duo are so cute (AS NON ROMANTIC, I HATE THEM ROMANTICALLY THAT)

...i thought Van and Tai were going to go at it in the restaurant bathroom ngl, dining and dashing and fucking in an alley is cool too

also that scene in the restaurant where Van seems to be feeling weird... And then right after that the waiter guy dies (supposedly) and we see that onscreen effect go away... Just saying

Id eat the shit (read: spit) out of that soup...

Mari and Shauna getting treated like misbehaving dogs... They low-key are. Poor Mari honestly. And Shauna gaslighting...

SHAUNA AND CALLIE BONDING OH MY LORD CALLIE'S A MINI SHAUNA AND I DONT KNOW WHETHER I SHOULD BE SCARED OF THAT

i can believe Ben finding a war/apocalypse prep container especially considering Cabin guy's insane amount of ammo, but I find it odd that the case is pristinely clean despite being covered in a pit of dirt and dust. Maybe they just didn't bother making it look weathered and I'm looking into it too hard.

NAT HALLUCINATION PLUS CHERRY BOMB 💥💥🎉

Honestly I think Walter may have lied to Misty, on the other hand Van and Taissa were getting down and dirty and Shauna was actually bonding with her kid for once

they make memorial for Javi, then Jackie, then Wilderness baby, im just confused on the fact they don't mention Laura Lee? Especially that Lottie of all people wouldn't mention her. Also the five lanterns I still think that's a clue to a death count this season (past and present, maybe just past timeline)

Ben is up to some evil shit... I don't think Mari dies in that hole though from some of the teasers we've seen

callie pocketed that tape... Didn't anyone tell you not to open other people's mail young lady 🤓

CAKE, they played CAKE, oh I can die happy

Ending thoughts:

Wtf is that sound Travis heard? Does the sound have something to do with being drunk? He hears it first when he's high, and the other girls hear it after the feast (they had like wine or something).

The no eyed man... come on let's get a good look at 'im

Who left the letter? Will the other Yellowjackets get a letter like the one that was supposed to go to Shauna?

What will happen to Mari? What is Ben's purpose of making that trap and what does he plan to do now that he's catched one of the girls. Furthermore, this would prove he knew they survived the cabin fire. Will this lead to the girls finding where Ben is?

Laura Lee erasure... 😭

[eveningspirit]

@destrokkit: #i do think that the same problem langdon has with patients extends to his personal life and marriage #just like santos' past trauma affects her ability to follow orders #i believe they want to do better and be better but because this #is a drama series they'll have to learn by something happening to them

Interesting takes, both of you.

OP, I think Langdon may have been similar to Santos in the way he would do procedures without waiting for someone higher up to approve them. That hit the nerve in him, in Santos's behavior, and maybe there's a reason. Maybe he learned the hard way why an intern may have the knowledge, but does not possess the experience of older doctors.

However, I think his motivation was different? Although. First I'd have to figure out what is Santos's motivation. Is it purely ambition? Does she have a narcissistic streak where she truly believes she knows better? Maybe. She lacks empathy and has no reagard for her patients. She treats them like objects, not people. Same with her coworkers. That's how she seems to me.

Now, Langdon is impatient, but whether this comes from his nature, or the pressure of the ED, could be debated. Perhaps in slower enviroment he would take the time to connect with the people in his care? Perhaps not, idek. He seems empathetic, attentive and perceptive though. Certainly toward Mel and Whittaker.

One thing I noticed, is that even though he seems self confident, he kind of isn't. In that conversation with Robby about the position of ED Medicine Teacher, he was like, "nah, I don't stand a chance." It resonated with me for reasons ;) It's pure headcanon, but I think that, if he was doing medical procedures early on, without waiting for a supervisor's approval (the way Santos did), it was because he was trying to prove himself. To prove that he could, if that makes sense.

So, that would be very different from Santos. If Santos indeed is damaged to the point of narcissism.

As for @destrokitt's observation that the problem Langdon has with patients--the lack of patience and compassion--extends to his family life, I'd say... no. I know it's sexist, but I do think it's a male thing. From experience. My hub, when my girls were around four, or younger, was exactly the same. He had to be taught by me applying very blunt force, multiple times, that what I do at home is hard work (in addition to fulltime dayjob, fml). It took him ten years and my depression to finally get it. Change occured gradually over those ten years though. I think it's in how they (boys) are raised? Idek. I love what Dana is doing. Vacation without hub, kids and a dog (yes, we got a dog when Big Girl was five and Little Girl was two, althout it was partially my idea ;)), was my dream for years.

Why do I even like this type of men? Oh, maybe because they are capable of learning?

Ehh. OP, sorry for hijacking your post and getting word-y like this. Sometimes I don't know where to stop. ;)

Dr. Santos really isn't that bad, idk why yall act as if she's committed war crimes. She is arrogant and snarky, in way over her head, but she has an undeniable charm.

I think Dr. Langdon and her are very similar. They're both somewhat inconsiderate (Dr. Langdon and the 18 year old overdose, Dr. Santos and her name-calling; Dr. Langdon not understanding the effort his wife puts into their lives, Dr. Santos and her dismissal of that one patient's trauma) but are ultimately trying their best.

The main reason they don't get along is because they're both so head strong. They both don't want to admit that they could've done better, that they could've been gentler, that they could've been more empathetic.

[blanc-ci]

If SNW is gonna keep insisting that the “deepening slow-burn bond” between K/S that’ll be happening in S3 is strictly platonic, then I think AOS4 should come out with Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto making out sloppy style for a third of the running time just to prove a point

[sukunasteeth]

Sukuna has never said no to you.

It didn’t matter what the request was, simple or complicated, easy to fix or a days-long job, Sukuna was always at your side, completing the task as fast as he needed to to keep you satisfied. He would love to deny it, you’re sure, but evidence proves time and time again that he puts your needs and wants at the top of his priority list. 

And you were curious how far you could go with it.

The two of you are sitting in your underwear at the breakfast nook, warming yourselves in the bay window while the morning sun starts on the leftover night time chill. It wasn't quite time for breakfast, still too early for the both of you. In the meantime, you sip on your morning brews, preserving the comfortable silence. Sukuna is flipping through the day's newspaper, his eyes are groggy with sleep and he hasn't said more than a handful of words to you yet. He wasn't a morning person.

You were starting to change that.

"Kuna," You call to him, nudging him with your foot from your corner of the window bench.

"Hmm?" He doesn't look up from the paper, but his hand reaches down and grabs your foot, pulling it into his lap. His thumbs start to subconsciously knead at your muscles.

"I want these." You hold up your phone, which you had previously been scrolling through in an attempt to find something ridiculous for this exact moment. You were sure you had found it, something even Sukuna would find unnecessary. 

And yet, he merely glances at your screen, takes in the sight for all of two seconds, and then returns his attention to whatever news article he was in the middle of.

"My wallet's on the counter." He clears the sleep from his throat not sparing a second look. 

You blink at him in surprise.

"D-Did you even see what it is?" You flip your phone around to make sure you were displaying the correct thing. 

Sukuna is frowning before he looks up again, curious at your persistence. He gently cups your hand, bringing it only a minuscule amount closer to examine your screen a second time. 

You were on one of the most luxurious brand’s websites, showing him an incredibly regular pair of panties, no straps, no details, all black- with one of the most outrageous price tags you had ever seen for something so ordinary. 

Sukuna cocks a brow at you over your phone, "Can't imagine you need more panties when you're constantly stealing my boxers. But whatever, hand it over. I know my card number-"

"Kuna," You interrupt him with a surprised laugh, holding fast to your phone when he tries to pluck it out of your hands, "they're a thousand dollars."

He glances back, his eyes focusing lower on the screen where you know the price tag to be. The newspaper in his hands drops down, momentarily forgotten by what he sees. For a moment, you think you've found his limit.

"Wait, are those red one's assless?" He points just below the price, where the recommended products are depicted. "Get those too."

You drop the phone down so that he meets your eyes, which are wide with shock.

Sukuna always took care of you. Always insisted on being the provider of any single thing that you may need; a warm meal, a soft bed, anything your eyes twinkled at that was available for purchase- even if you would never think of buying or owning it. Granted, you never wanted much in terms of material possessions, so you didn't realize the true extent of Sukuna's leniency until now.

It was slightly intimidating, and part of it felt wrong. Sukuna had money, plenty of it, but that didn’t mean he should feel the need to spend copious amounts of it on you just because you could ask him to. He was giving you too much power, it felt like.

You huff through your nose, frowning at him, which only has him tilting his head further to the side in question.

You ignore it, setting your phone onto the window seat and crawling your way closer to him, until you can gather up his face in your hands and lock his gaze into yours.

He glares at you past smushed cheeks, but doesn't make a move to break free of your hold, humoring you. "The hell are you doing-"

"You know you don't always have to say yes to me?"

Now that has him taken aback. His mouth automatically opens for a witty response, but your question seems to have effectively taken the words from his mouth. You can see the cogs in his head turning, and what you wouldn't give to peer inside his mind and hear his thoughts.

It takes him a moment, but eventually that familiar confident smile stretches across his sleepy face. His hands seem to instinctively slide their way up your bare legs until his fingers grip your hip bones, pressing into you. 

He hums, "When have you ever said no to me?"

You scoff, ready to give him a prime example, but end up coming up short. The two of you loved to tease each other with disobedience, but in the end you were eager to give Sukuna anything his heart desired. You loved to please him, it was one of your favorite things to do, in fact.

"You never ask anything ridiculous of me." You remind him, smiling as one of his warm hands slides back down your waist and dips into the pair of his boxers you were sporting that day. 

"You know what's ridiculous?” His voice wraps around your throat, and suddenly has you swallowing past the delicious grip. You're folding into him before you even realize it, at the mercy of his calloused hands. "The implication that I wouldn't do just about anything for you."

You can't help but sigh hopelessly, although it comes out as a desperate noise that pleads him for more. You really were all his, just like he loved to tell you.

"Now hand me your phone." It's a whisper, coaxing you. "I wanna see you in red."

You can’t say no. 

At least it was mutual.

[nochepsicodelica]

Toji who got really drunk after a misunderstanding you left him to ponder upon one morning when you left for work. You missed a part of your routinely goodbye to him and at first it didn't bother him. He understood that you were running late, but once he started chugging the cold drinks and he sat with the sentiment, he realized it did strike him.

He hated the entire process of getting drunk, hated that drinking was unbearable unless it was chased with sweet kisses from you, but there he was, downing bottle after bottle. He was starting to feel liquid full but even in this intoxicated state he didn't want to put down the bottles. At some point he starting feeling uncomfortable being by himself and didn't want to feel that way anymore, so he called and texted you. Multiple times. You finally picked up after the eighth call.

-Hi, baby! Sorry, I missed your calls. I just left work and i'm heading home.-

-Baby? Who are you calling baby?- He scoffs, a roll of his eyes following.

-You... Toji. It's you. Who else would I be calling baby?-

-Honestly, I...- He laughs, the sound not coming off as one of joy with the next words he speaks. -I didn't think you even loved me enough to give me stupid pet names. I feel very unloved by you and... mhm, just want you to know that.-

Now, that's just entirely untrue and it hurts to hear. You prove your love for him every day. What is this sudden false claim against you?

-Toji, love, what are you saying? I'm coming home, already. Maybe we should talk in person. This is hard to discuss over the phone.-

-Uh-huh, you do that.- He sighs, heavily, his eyes lidding with sluggishness. -Can't win a verbal argument, s-so you're gonna come over here and try to seduce me with your pretty face. I'm just gonna say no when you try to touch me. Just no.-

-I'll see you in a bit, Toji.- you say, before abruptly hanging up.

He sounded off. You knew something was up the second you saw his eight missed calls and a stack of messages just saying 'hey'.

Your keys jingled as you pulled them out of your bag to unlock the front door. The house was steady, no sign of Toji watching TV in the living room or of the shower running. You walked further in, calling his name. It was kind of eery walking through your silent house. You also knew of Toji's tendency of scaring you, so you were on guard for that as you paced around the house. You had one more room to check and it was the bedroom. You dragged your feet over to the room, knocking when you noticed the door was closed. There was no answer after two more knocks so you just opened the door.

The sound startled Toji who was lying against the headboard of the bed, almost falling asleep. The second he saw you his demeanor changed. He perked up like a dog when their owner comes home, before melting back to the stoic state he had been sitting in.

"Hey," you say, almost tentatively, as you walk towards your shared bed, sitting down on the edge. You're met with an acknowledging hum of a response. "What's wrong, baby?"

"There you go calling me baby again. Baby is for people who love each other, so stop it."

You look over the bed, spotting the evidence that led to the bite in his attitude towards you— those bottles that spill the remaining drops of their content and Toji's backwash onto the bed, making the sheets reek of alcohol.

"Well, I love you, so no, i'm not gonna stop calling you baby."

He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing like a child. "That so? It didn't seem that way this morning. I've never felt so forgotten about by you."

"I told you I was gonna be late for work, but you insisted on keeping me trapped beneath you. Bring that part to light, handsome." You can see the corners of his lips twitching. He's holding back the most wicked smirk at the short burst of memories from the morning. "Plus, I still gave you your goodbye kiss, so what are you on about?"

"You didn't say 'I love you'. That's part of goodbye with you, so you can't blame me for feeling this way." His eyes express something of hurt. Maybe it's enhanced by the drinks he had, but you can't leave him that way.

"You're loved, baby. Very much so. Me not saying it this one time doesn't diminish the actual feeling." He's been reduced to a cub over this, so as his lover, you step in to mend the feelings that were grazed.

"Can you..." he rasps, patting his thigh, signaling for you to sit. You drag yourself towards him, and plop yourself onto his lap. You can smell the alcohol on his breath as he rambles on about how you can't forget to say 'I love you' to him ever again, even if it's a blurted, rushed one that he doesn't get a chance to respond to as you rush out the door.

The look he reserves for you is entirely soft, his hands are hot against your clothed back as they feel the warm body he's missed for hours. "I still..." he pauses to sigh, tiredness imbued into the sound. "Still want you to call me baby," he starts again. "I was just bummed. Don't stop calling me baby. Don't ever do that." He's letting his hands roam all over you. Your back, your waist, your hips—everything.

"Are you gonna let me touch you or are you gonna say 'no'?" You grin, remembering his words, verbatim, just incase he tries to tell you he never said them.

"Why aren't you touching me? Why would I not want you to touch me?" He looks insulted by the question and you have half a mind to remind him of what he said to you on the phone, but the heat in his eyes dies out as quickly as it appeared. "Really need a hug, mama. Please, hug," he says, the last part muffled by your chest as he keeps his face buried into it.

You held him tight and murmured 'I love you' countless times, while he hummed in response and groaned quietly as you ran your fingers through his hair.

[greengoblinswifey]

Being in your first age gap relationship with Hwang In-ho

You had always found yourself drawn to older men, captivated by their wisdom and experience. There was something undeniably attractive about their confidence and maturity.

You loved how they brought a sense of stability and adventure into your life, making every moment together feel rich and fulfilling. So, it was no wonder you were drawn to Hwang In-ho.

Though, the relationship was—reluctant at first. In-ho was over two decades older than you. You’d been informed about all the horror stories involving age gap relationships but through his actions, you learnt he was nothing like those men.

You loved the relationship you had with In-ho. While you were still figuring out your path, he had already walked a long journey, and that experience fascinated you. You enjoyed how he viewed the world differently, offering insights that challenged your perspective.

The age difference only seemed to enhance your connection; it allowed you to learn from him while also bringing a youthful energy into his life. You cherished how he appreciated your spontaneity, and together, you created a beautiful balance that made your relationship feel unique and special.

In-ho kept you away from the Squid Game. All you knew was that he ran a successful business and it accumulated him more than enough money to spoil you. Luxury trips, vehicles, expensive jewelry perfumes, you name it and it was yours. He was generous with his money and you lacked nothing.

The goal wasn’t to use In-ho per se, but you were going to get as much out of the relationship as you possibly could.

In-ho wasn’t just generous with his money, he was generous with his time. He’d drop whatever plans he had to spend quality time with you. Whether it be expensive dinner dates, operas, yacht dates or just a regular night with him—he didn’t care. As long as he had you in his arms.

The flirting between you and him was magnetic. He had a way of teasing you that made your heart race. One evening, as you both had dinner, he leaned in and said, “You know, I didn’t think someone your age could keep up with me.”

“Oh, I can keep up just fine. You might be the one struggling to keep up with me especially in bedroom,” you teased.

His charming smile grew wider, and he shot back, “Is that a challenge? And sweetheart you know I put in the work. Who else can have you screaming like I do?”

You felt a thrill at the playful banter, loving how he could make you feel special. His subtle gestures, like a lingering gaze or his touch, sent shivers down your spine. No one could make your core throb or you knees weak like him.

In-ho wasn’t a selfish lover either. Compared to the men your age, he knew what he was doing and he made you cum more than they ever could.

Usually, you’d never jump straight into fucking. His hands would be all over you, memorizing you as if you were braille. His tongue knew your taste, relishing in it and his lips had been on every single part of you. He knew just how to have you riled up and begging for his cock.

One night, after arriving home from a date, he spent more than an hour edging and teasing you. That was another thing about older men—they were so much kinkier than their younger counterparts.

With your consent, In-ho would have your hands bound and eat your pussy until you were shaking and crying. You never knew pleasure could become too much until you met him.

He was skilled with his tongue and just as good with his fingers, coaxing the sweetest sounds from you.

And when it came to his dick? He knew exactly how to use it.

He whispered praises in your ear as he slipped inside you, always giving you a minute to adjust and peppering kisses all over your face.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.”

“You take me so well.”

“You’re such a good girl, my good girl.”

And when he’d start to move, he hit all the right spots inside you. His thrusts were always deep, he fucked you like he was trying to prove a point. And he was—no other man could make you feel as good as him.

He wouldn’t stop fucking you until he got at least three orgasms out of you, and that excluded foreplay. When you felt too fucked out to give him another, all he had to do was whisper in your ear.

“Don’t you want to be a good girl for me? Make me proud and cum for me one more time, angel.”

That always did it for you.

In the end, he’d always leave you utterly spent and an incoherent mess. He knew exactly how to satisfy you.

Your pleasure was his responsibility and so was every other aspect of your life. Who would have a beautiful young woman on their arm and not put her on a pedestal? In-ho practically worshiped the ground you walked on. As long as you were happy, he was. And that’s what made the years between you seem so much smaller.

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #02. XXX!

𐙚 topic。．hcs of random things that turn on hsr men

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。suggestive content, i wrote this with no brain, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and blade. I wanna write for my bootyhill but i need to study him more to get a grip of him lol

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ rebuking his argument in a fight

。i js know he would go crazy when you do this 。he’d find people who just agree with him as boring. To him it may look even insincere 。but you? countering his smartly crafted arguments with irresistible logic with your pretty brain, glaring at him as you do with those adorable eyes? 。this man would go from being mad to being horny. tbh he would have probably already been horny in the argument 。nobody can be more masochistic than he is

“ARE YOU STUPID?” You glare at your boyfriend who looks nonchalant as he idly examines the coin between his fingers. “Fucking look at me. Do you know what happens when you join forces with them? You’re just risking the IPC and it will eventually lead to your unfortunate befall.”

You continue barreling on furiously with concrete points. Every time you prove him wrong, his eyes dance and he tries his hardest to bite back the grin that plays at his lips as you rant on. You are so perfect, he thinks- he is nonetheless impressed at you, your wondrous little brain. Something snaps inside of him when he sees you focused on derailing his points, your lips moving quickly to spit out syllables. He feels a loud moan caught in his throat.

“I get it, I’m sorry, princess, I won’t do it.” he suddenly surrenders and you eye him suspiciously as he advances, hands sneaking up to your back. “Let’s talk this out in bed, ‘m gonna apologize to you there.” He says softly, giving you lovely kisses along your neck but the way his fingers dig into your skin lets you know he’s not going to wait any longer.

And you will be confused as hell, because although you did win the argument, you feel like you just lost something else, a hidden little game he never taught you the rules to.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ whipped cream on your lips

。hear me out… i have a gut feeling he likes it a little too much 。ik it’s totally random but he will go nuts when he sees you bite down a particularly creamy cake that promptly smears its remains over your mouth- he tries to think of something more dignified, but he just can’t. His poor brain keeps returning to the most vulgar visuals of you. 。he will always point out whatever you had near your mouth when you two eat, because he’s such a clean freak, but anything with cream, specifically white whipped cream, he will be unable to comment on it and fall weirdly silent to he point you are confused why you not hear his scolding to wipe your mouth. 。he’ll just watch you eat dessert with a smile on your face as you savor the taste innocently. Unfortunately his brain is not, and he will start to feel his cock struggle under the fabric. 。”you have cream over your mouth, sweetheart. should i clean it for you?” he’ll sound restrained, like he’s being choked but his expression doesn’t waver. 。and after he found out his new obsession, he will literally only buy you huge whipped cream cakes for dessert.

“THE CAKE HERE IS SO GOOD.” You savor the taste happily and dig into the whipped cream cake and eat without much care. “Where’s it from?”

Sunday is too busy staring at you to register that. The creamy ring around your pink lips. It bothers him in a bad way. It’s making him feel like he is out of breath. His wings flicker wildly like a cooling fan, trying to blow off the heat that suddenly started to build inside his stomach like a raging primal flame that’s trapped by his own conscience.

You tap his shoulder gently and he snaps back to reality and tries to stare at your eyes instead, yes, lovely eyes, he thinks- your words phase in and out as he gulps, darting his eyes back to the cake.

“…the brand? The cake brand?” You ask again, frowning at his silence.

“Ah, yes, sorry, sweetheart. I was thinking of something else for a moment.” He breathlessly apologizes, the words spilling out a little too quickly like an excuse that makes your frown deepen in confusion— he closes his eyes and opens them again so the heat will ebb away. But his plans are obliterated when you take a portion of the cake and eat it, all while looking at him in the eye with curious doe eyes.

That’s when he can’t restrain himself anymore. He suddenly seizes your chin with his gloved hand, making you squeal in surprise when he practically devours your lips, licking up the cream residue around them roughly before shoving it inside your mouth with his tongue. The sweet cream melts when it gets to your mouth, mixing with his saliva that dips down your chin to make messy thick lines.

“It was from a shop at Golden Hour. I hope you like the taste,” he’d say as if he didn’t just feast on your mouth like a starved beast. “Me personally, i think it’s a tad too sweet.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིLADE ⇢ treating his wounds

。it’s ironic because Blade doesn’t want to be healed at all 。but how could he refuse you you’re frantically at his door with an emergency kit, worry written all over you- you are like a cute puppy that keeps following him around. 。he lets you do it reluctantly at first, grumbling about it inwardly 。but when you lift up his shirt with no hesitation to put gauze to soak in the blood, his muscles tense visibly, when your touch ghosts over his skin like tiny little lilies blooming in their wake. 。what have you done to him? He feels nothing but tension and something he didn’t want to register, something a little too pleasant to him. 。and at some point he will actually look forward to having his would treated by you. He still likes pain, but he likes your touch drifting over his bruised skin like an innocent butterfly way more.

“DOES IT HURT?” You softly pat the ointment around another fresh scar on his broad chest. It pains you to see that most of the scars are near his heart. You sigh like a worried mother. “You worry me.”

“I enjoy it,” he grunts in response, but his brain ran a quick recap. Enjoy what? The pain? Or your smooth touch?

“Stay still,” you say, and he does, as you carefully squeeze in another ointment into an ugly looking scar. His eyes never leave you the whole time, his muscles tense at the pain but otherwise he’s relaxed. His intimidating stare makes you scared a little, considering this mysterious man didn’t speak his mind often.

“I think that’s it,” you say, quickly trying to lower Blade’s shirt back- but the man grabs your wrist mid-action. You jump, confused. His eyes are unreadable but he states, “You’re not done.”

you frown in puzzlement. “I double-checked, im pretty sure I didn’t miss a spot.”

He lifts his shirt up and with his bandaged finger, cuts open the scar you just treated for him, making it ooze another layer of fresh blood around the dried wound. His lips form a rare smirk as he looks at your wide-eyed stare.

“There, you have a new wound to work on.”

He will do that until you are out of ointment, and the next day he will come visit you first this time with another set of fresh scars.

[amiaclone]

You asked I’ll write! Gender neutral reader if you don’t mind

Tw: cursing I guess? Squid game in general should be considered a trigger over all the murdering lmaoo

*In ho sighed for the what? Fifteenth time? He’s been counting it’s what he’s trying to focus on the other thing is well……*

*When he decided to participate in these games again it was to prove Gi hun a point and mess with him a bit so he joined his “team” which well….. they happened to be in*

You were apart of it a strong person filled with determination in debt to a lot of money…..honestly in ho was shocked with how much debt you were in I mean you seemed like someone who’d make it far in live would rule against the poor like he used to be…

But you weren’t you were *trash*

You were lower lower class you were nothing…..

Yet why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

He had a wife who he fell out of love with before he even met you…..swore he’d never fall in love again after distancing himself with his family and starting the games…..

But you just had to be lucky star didn’t you?

You were “kind” and not in a pushover kind of way just….kind like kind that would not take shit from people but would help others in need….and didn’t hide your opinions from others that deserved it….

It was disgusting but…..In a good way? He wanted you not in a possessive way but in a way type of wanting to care for you and you care for him-

*He shook those thoughts off ugh. Why now? He’s usually so calm and collected…..at first he wouldn’t lie he was hoping you’d die in one of the earlier games but now….he isn’t so sure. Gi hun already has plans to take the guns and fight back he had a plan problem was…..you were apart of the main plan

He probably had to kill you it’s probably a good thing but…now he isn’t so sure he’s gotten along with you great and he has a tiny bit of hope that you even like him back so for you to find out he runs these games….he can’t risk it

You’ll find out anyway but he doesn’t wanna face you to your face he atleast wants to hide behind a mask atleast imagining what you’d say…..

Currently he’s trying to convince himself that these feelings aren’t real……maybe it’s just attraction? Of course you’re really good looking maybe it’s that!

“Uh In ho?”

*He turns around that voice dreaded him more then anything the voice he was ready to hear-*

“Are you okay In ho?”

It was Gi hun

*He unfortunately realised that after breaking out of his rare trance he blinked for a few seconds then nodded*

“What is it?”

*Gi hun shrugged* “Nothing you seemed out of it….” *In ho stared at the ground trying to seem calm but spoke in a bitter tone* “I’m fine…” *He let his eyes wander to you who was talking to he thinks Junhee the pregnant lady? Gi hun noticed and raised an eyebrow* “Maybe Y/n will cheer you up…..Hey y/n!”

*You raised an eyebrow nodding at Junhee before walking away up to the two men.*

“You guys need something?” *In ho sighed he’s been trying to avoid hearing your voice….and you in general.* “In ho seems nervous I thought you’d be better at calming him down…*

*As Gi hun left you leaned your back on the bars of the bed he was sitting on….he couldn’t even look at you.*

“So. What is it?” *You asked he didn’t look at you but he could tell you seemed concerned*

“……” “In ho?” “…….If somebody did something almost unforgivable in any way…..what would you do?” “……What?” *You were confused rightfully you knew he was like this but for the way he got was so….* “Just answer the question…..please.” “Well if we were close I’d….wanna know why. Depending on what they did it’s…..hard to say hey are you saying this cause you’re worried or something i understand i am too but…..don’t focus on the negative so much you know?” *As usual kind…..how could such a good human like you be in these games yet he knew…..He is the front man after all he decided to atleast “ask you” and bond maybe a bit before he has to let you go….*

“Yeah you’re right as logical as ever so why are……you in debt if you don’t mind answering?”

*He felt you rise up you stared squinting your eyes then smiling* “Damn didn’t expect anyone to ask me that….don’t think it’s important.”

*Oh he knows what it is why wouldn’t he a petty part of him felt betrayed some what you weren’t gonna tell him after how close you’ve gotten but he decided to keep his cool.*

“You don’t have to tell you i just asked since we might be leaving this place or if neither of us..make it.” *You groaned* “The pessimism again In ho? Jeez you could…..I’ll tell you though cause you do have a point.”

“Well i used to be pretty rich and well-“ *As you went into your story he already knew it but continued to listen you were rich worked in a high payed business workplace but like most work places favouritism is common. Which unfortunately lead to your downfall.* “Anyways one day I found out i was being underpayed a lot of money so I complained this and that and i got a warning complained again then got fired…..It was hard to find a job i didn’t pay the bills for a lot of things debt grew bigger and bigger then a man asked me to play a game one day and well…..here i am.” *Ah yes In ho nodded at your story he knew it all he was the person who called for you to be in the game….you were a wonderful person honestly what was he thinking you were too good for a game like this is something he of all people would never think he would say.* “Im sorry you don’t deserve to be here after all it’s not your fault you’re in debt…” *You shook your head* “Eh I didn’t have a good of a college degree anyway maybe if I studied more in college I wouldn’t be here but eh atleast i got to meet you?” *In ho sighed and he didn’t want to or realise it but he couldn’t help but let a small smile rise genuinely.* “I suppose it’s…..mutual.”

*You sighed smiling* “I can’t wait for tomorrow we’ll finally *maybe* get out of here right?” *He felt his heart stop for a second oh yeah…..that*

*He awkwardly cleared his throat* “Oh yeah I suppose this game will….end and we’ll probably never see each other again” *You snorted* “We can still talk, we can meet up together and talk and stuff it’s not like we need to forget each other…”

*”That’s right” In ho thought he needed to forget you maybe these feelings would go away….but the the thoughts came he didn’t want to but…..”I killed my brother damn it! I can do this I’ve talked to them for only a few days this is…”*

“In ho??” *He stared up at you instinctively like an animal almost he stopped himself and regained his composure.* “Jeez you seem tense maybe get some rest…” “No im…..just thinking….about all the bad decisions…..humans can make.” *You hmmd* “I suppose so humans can be evil if given the chance with such power.” *In ho nodded* “Have you ever thought of doing something regrettable?” *In ho wasn’t sure why he was asking these…..questions but maybe it was to see the inhuman side of them to make him disgusted in you? Maybe that’ll work.* “Well I’ll admit yeah…..I got bullied and when I found out there father had cancer i wanted to well bring it up tear them down….i think i was about 14.” *You didn’t seem shameful you seemed to regret it but not shamed it only made In ho admire you more as he hated it.* “So why didn’t you do anything?” *You laughed a bit* “I would of if it wasn’t for me asking my mom and telling her like i was about to do the best thing she got mad scolded me and told me a different way a better way to handle bullying……and I’ve used that advice since.”

*He quirked an eyebrow what would it be that he hasn’t heard ignore them stand up for yourself be the the bigger person?*

“Be better than them…..because bullies are the weakest of the weakest in society strategy they don’t want you knowing is you finding out you’re better then them.” *He knows that advice he’s never thought much of it but hearing it from you automatically makes him wanna know more…* “Well then your mom raised such a lovely person….you should be proud.” *You scoffed laughing a bit* “I made a lot of mistakes that i can’t even say thought of some weird stuff im glad i didn’t say or do anyways……yeah. We’re human everyone has made one bad mistake you’ll dwell on for the rest of your life my advice is well…..did you regret it?”

*In ho sighed smiling* “Thanks for the advice I’ll rest for a bit” *You got up smiling and leaving that’s it.* “Y/n you’ll always be in my memory….” *In ho didn’t know what to do with them maybe ask them to join him? No! That would be so idiotic they’d never agree….try to make them understand? Maybe let them go? Why doesn’t he want that…..he then smiled.* “I can’t wait for tomorrow y/n you’re so unpredictable maybe you could stay with me…..”

Anddddd a cliffhanger sorry if this is ooc i was halfasleep writing this 😭

[sunderwight]

Luo Binghe needs to make better friends with Shang Qinghua, because Shang Qinghua's the one person who would know how to get Shen Qingqiu to top Binghe in bed.

Like if Binghe ever got to the friendliness level of actually bemoaning the situation, Shang Qinghua would be like, oh yah no problem leave it to daddy I got this for you. And then he'd go visit Shen Qingqiu and be all, so how's the sex life going?

After Shen Qingqiu finished yelling at him for asking the question, he'd of course provide some details -- which Shang Qinghua would translate out of Cucumber-ese into Normal Person Speak for concepts like "I'm a huge size queen so I'm really enjoying that WMD you gave your protagonist" and "I haven't figured it out yet but I really need to start using a better quality of lube" and etc, until there was an opening for him to get in the question of, has Shen Qingqiu topped Luo Binghe yet? Has he plumbed the depths of his heavenly love cave?

Which would probably inspire a two minute rant about the euphemism before Shen Qingqiu is finally like, of course I haven't topped, are you insane, I would never besmirch the dignity of an alpha male like that!

Shang Qinghua nods and hums thoughtfully and delivers the critical strike:

"Yeah, I guess he isn't really pretty enough to bottom."

Shen Qingqiu's expression goes through several different flavors of emotion before settling on "outrage". What the fuck, Airplane? Not pretty enough? Who gave him that face? What is that face if not "pretty"? Maybe some more advanced versions of the same concept, but that's the only case you could make, the case that it's actually "beautiful" or "gorgeous" or something because "pretty" is just too inadequate to describe it! You'd dare imply Binghe is ugly?! Is it crack that you're smoking?

Shang Qinghua just shrugs and goes well no the face department is probably not bad for that kind of thing, it's really more the body that's unsuitable. All those muscles and all, who wants to see those kinds of curves underneath them? And that ass. Totally inadequate for the job. He doesn't really blame Cucumber-bro for finding the whole prospect too unpleasant to contemplate! (Says man who regularly tops Mobei Jun, but it's not like Shen Qingqiu has figured that out, man's firmly stuck on yaoi tropes that say Airplane always bottoms because he's shorter.)

This, of course, inspires a fifteen minute rant on why Luo Binghe's ass is the most attractive ass ever, and all Shang Qinghua has to do is imply that if that were actually true, Shen Qingqiu would have had his husband bent over a bench at least once by now. And he's done it. This conversation can now only end with Shen Qingqiu storming off in a fit of righteous fury to go grab his husband and prove his point by bridal-carrying him into the bedroom and not coming back out until he's won the argument by ravishing Luo Binghe beyond a doubt.

Shen Qingqiu would be halfway through smugly informing Shang Qinghua that Binghe was the best lay ever the next day before it would even occur to him that he'd been had.

But Luo Binghe's too bad at making friends to ever unlock this feature, I think.

[pucksandpower]

Theories of Relativity

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you don’t need TikTok theories to prove that your relationship is a dream come to life, but it doesn’t hurt when your boyfriend passes all of them with flying colors

The Olive Theory

When you love someone, you have to be willing to make sacrifices and compromises for them (even if those sacrifices are something small like pretending to hate olives just so you can give them to your olive-loving partner instead)

You sit across from Charles at the long dinner table, smiling as he animatedly recounts the race from last weekend. His hands wave through the air, punctuating his story as he describes the final lap battle with Max down to the last corner. You’re only half listening though, too distracted by how handsome he looks in his dinner jacket, his tanned skin glowing in the low light of the restaurant.

As Charles pauses to take a sip of wine, you lean in and whisper, “I wasn’t really watching the race, I only had eyes for you.”

Charles chuckles, his nose crinkling adorably. “Oh really? So you missed all the action then?"

You shrug, trailing a finger down his arm. “What can I say, I find you far more interesting than the other cars going around in circles.”

Charles opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a mechanic sitting a little way down from you. “Oi Charles, why do you keep picking all the olives out of your salad?"

You look down, noticing the small pile of olives Charles has stacked onto the edge of his plate.

Charles glances at you, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “Oh, um, I’m not a huge fan of olives.”

The mechanic frowns in confusion. “But I’ve seen you eat olives before. You always get them on your pizza.”

“I, uh ...” Charles stammers, clearly flustered.

Under the table, you squeeze his hand reassuringly. Charles looks at you and you give him a small nod.

“Well, the truth is,” Charles says, turning back to the mechanic. “I actually love olives. But Y/N loves them even more than I do. So I pick them out of my food to give to her.”

You smile softly at Charles, warmed by his thoughtfulness. The mechanic chuckles and shakes his head. “You two are so cute it’s almost gross.”

Charles just grins and pops an olive into your mouth. “Anything for mon amour.”

You crunch the olive happily, then lean in to give Charles a quick kiss on the lips. “People who say chivalry is dead have simply never met you.”

The conversation moves on, flowing from racing to travel and everything in between. Under the table, your fingers stay intertwined with Charles’ the whole time.

After dinner, you all head outside into the cool night air. Charles’ team members head off towards their own cars, calling out goodbyes.

You snuggle into Charles’ side as you walk towards where his Ferrari is parked. “Thank you for the olives,” you say. “But you really don’t have to deprive yourself on my account.”

Charles wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. “I want to though. I like making you happy.”

You stop next to the car, turning to face him. Running a hand down his chest you say, “You know what would really make me happy right now?"

“Hmm?" Charles murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

You grin mischievously. “A stop for gelato on the way home.”

Charles laughs and opens the car door for you. “Anything for you, mon cœur.”

The Bird Test

If you say something that could be deemed insignificant and your partner responds with genuine curiosity, that’s a really good sign that your relationship will last a long time

The Brazilian sun beats down as you wander hand-in-hand with Charles along the edges of the Interlagos circuit. It’s the day before qualifying, and Charles brought you out to the track in São Paulo to share the grid walk with you.

You stroll slowly, enjoying a rare private moment together during the hectic race weekend. Charles points out details along the track — the tricky off-camber Turn 3, the sharp left-right complex at Turns 5 and 6, the long full throttle blast down the back straight.

You love seeing him so in his element here, his passion for racing evident in his voice and gestures.

As you round Turn 12, heading down the home straight, a flash of bright blue in the trees catches your eye. Gasping in excitement, you grab Charles’ arm and point.

“Look, a hyacinth macaw!”

Charles follows your gaze to the large, vividly colored parrot perched in the branches. “Wow, that’s amazing! I’ve never seen one outside of a zoo.”

You bounce on your toes, thrilled at the sighting. “Aren’t they gorgeous? That bright blue is unreal. Macaws are pretty rare around here, I can’t believe we spotted one!”

Charles smiles at your obvious delight, then turns back to observe the macaw with curiosity. “What do they eat?" He asks. “Fruit, like other parrots?"

“Yes exactly!” You reply eagerly. “Mostly palm nuts and acai berries. And they need a huge range of territory, something like 80 square kilometers.”

As you chat more facts about the brilliant bird, Charles listens attentively, asking more questions and commenting on its beauty. His genuine interest and engagement makes your heart flutter happily.

Eventually the macaw takes flight, its bright wings flashing blue against the trees as it disappears into the forest.

“Incredible,” Charles murmurs, watching it go. “What an amazing thing to see.”

He turns back to you, eyes shining. “Thank you for pointing it out, I never would have spotted it myself. I love seeing you so excited teaching me about something you’re passionate about.”

You step closer, looping your arms around his neck. “And I love that you always listen and want to know more, even if it’s not about racing.”

Charles wraps his arms around your waist, smiling tenderly. “Of course, your passions are my passions now too. I want to know everything that sparks that beautiful light in your eyes.”

The Orange Peel Theory

A partner’s willingness to perform small acts of service is indicative of a healthy relationship

Early morning sun filters into the kitchen as you sip your coffee, still wearing the oversized Ferrari shirt you slept in. Charles stands at the counter across from you, freshly showered and humming to himself as he browses his phone.

Setting your mug down, you grab an orange from the fruit bowl and start to peel it. Or at least you try. The tough rind puts up a stubborn fight, your nails scraping uselessly against it.

“Ugh, I hate peeling oranges,” you grumble after a minute. “Whose idea was it to make the peel so impossible?"

Charles glances up with a sympathetic smile. “Here, let me.”

He takes the orange from your hands and deftly digs his thumb into the top, effortlessly tearing the peel away in one long curl.

You watch in admiration as he strips the rest of the orange until it’s completely naked and ready to eat.

“Voila,” Charles presents it with a flourish. “One perfectly peeled orange for mon ange.”

“My hero,” you grin. You go to take it from him but Charles playfully keeps it out of reach.

“Ah ah, allow me,” he says. Holding your gaze, he gently pulls apart one glistening segment and brings it to your lips.

Happiness bubbles up in you at this sweet, unexpected gesture. You let Charles pop the orange slice into your mouth, savoring the bright citrus burst.

“Delicious,” you murmur. Charles smiles and leans in to kiss you softly, his thumb brushing a drop of juice from your lower lip.

One by one he continues to peel the segments and feed them to you, interspersing each with tender kisses that taste of orange and love.

You close your eyes blissfully, letting the sensual ritual relax you. Charles takes his time, not rushing. He knows this is your favorite part of the morning, stealing these private moments together before the busy day sweeps you both up.

When the last segment is gone, Charles kisses you again, deeper this time. You loop your arms around his neck, melting against him.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” you whisper when you finally separate.

Charles nuzzles your nose with his. “You may have said it once or twice. But I never get tired of hearing it.”

You lean into him contentedly. As always, his thoughtfulness and care warms you from the inside out.

Peeling an orange is such a small act but the meaning behind it speaks volumes. Charles knows your quirks and preferences, and cherishes these little opportunities to make your day brighter.

The little things that mean everything.

You’re still musing dreamily about this when Charles tips your chin up. “Where’d you go just now?” He asks with a curious smile.

You shake your head, focusing back on him. “Just thinking about us. And how perfectly you peel my oranges.”

Charles laughs. “Well I’m glad to be of service. I know how you hate getting orange string stuck under your nails.”

He kisses your fingertips one by one. “Can’t have anything marring these beautiful hands.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “Oh yes, I need to keep my hands soft and dainty in case a prince comes along to propose.”

Charles squawks in protest and tackles you against the counter, fingers digging into your sides to tickle you mercilessly. You dissolve into helpless giggles, swatting him away.

“No no, stop! I take it back!” You gasp.

Charles relents, holding you close and nuzzling into your hair. “Too late, you’re stuck with me now,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.

You snuggle into him contentedly. No fantasy prince could ever compete with the reality of Charles.

The Invisible String Theory

An invisible string connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance (the string may stretch or tangle but it will never break)

The living room is filled with laughter and happy chatter as you and Charles sit surrounded by both your families. Your wedding is only two days away, and his mother suggested gathering everyone together one night for reminiscing and quality time.

Looking through old photo albums is proving to be hilarious and heartwarming. Baby pictures, school plays, family vacations — memories preserved to embroider the story of your lives before fate brought you together.

Charles smiles wistfully as Lorenzo shows an album from their childhood. “I wish my godfather and father could have met you,” he says softly. “They would have loved you so much.”

You take his hand, leaning your head on his shoulder. His lost loved ones are always close to his heart.

Your mother passes an album to you with a smile. “Oh this one is from our trip to France when you were five! So many cute little Y/N photos.”

You roll your eyes but obligingly open the album, Charles peering over your shoulder. You flip through pictures of your younger self building sandcastles on the beach, wearing a hilariously large sun hat, beaming gappily with missing front teeth.

Charles grins down at you. “Adorable. I can’t wait for our kids to-”

He stops abruptly, staring down at the page. You follow his gaze to a photo of your family in Nice, taken in front of the Le Negresco hotel. And there in the background, almost out of frame — four familiar figures walking down the promenade.

A young Charles holds the hand of a teenage boy you immediately recognize as Jules. On Charles’ other side, his father Hervé carries a toddler Arthur.

Your breath catches sharply. The families fall silent around you. Charles’ fingers tremble slightly as they trace over the image.

“Of course we went to Nice often,” he whispers. “I had no idea ...” His voice trails off, thick with emotion.

Arthur cranes his head to see. “Is that us? With Papa and Jules?" He looks between you and Charles with wide eyes.

“Almost twenty years ago,” Lorenzo marvels. “And your paths were already crossing.”

Pascale wipes at her eyes, grasping Charles’ other hand tightly. “It was meant to be. Some invisible string tying you together even then.”

Charles’ fingers tremble as they trace over the image. For one brief, impossible moment, it feels like you’re all together — you, Charles, Jules, Hervé. Preserved in time, intersecting at the crossroads of past and future.

Though you never met in life, somehow you were all bound in that instant, tied by invisible strings of destiny. Strings that would one day guide you and Charles to each other.

It’s only a photo, yet looking at it you feel Jules and Hervé’s presence like a bittersweet embrace. As if across the years, they’re saying we know you. We love you. We’re so happy for you both.

You stare down at it, this captured moment of impossible synchronicity. A glimpse of the thread that wove itself silently through your lives until the day it finally drew you together.

Charles meets your eyes, his own shimmering with tears. Without words, you know he feels it too. The impossible link stretching back through time. Proof you were always meant to find each other.

He pulls you close, kissing the top of your head. “I believe that with all my heart, we’ve always been connected somehow.”

“Soulmates,” you whisper.

You cling to him, overwhelmed with certainty. Through accidents of time and geography, missteps and milestones, your story was always guiding you here.

Meant for each other. Destined, even then.

[pennyellee]

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 | 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐀𝐔 pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, slight porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

masterlist

summary: “You are something I can sin for” An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that’s what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn’t always like that. There was a time where you’ve resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, reader meets namjoon when she was young - nothing happenes until she's of age, forced engagement, kidnapping, graphic violence, death, murder, blood, explicit language, misogyny, mentions of feminism, alcohol usage, mentions of religion and God, church smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, oppa-kink and so on (i'll add some if i'll forget)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

a/n: So here we are! This is the story I've been thrilled to share as it unfolds almost simultaneously with Champagne Confetti. Y/N, alias Peaches, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after my current project wraps up, wink wink. I have drafts for other fics set in the same universe as my current work and the new one, Anubis. Step by step, my fairies ♥

I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I've kept to myself for a long time. The best thing about writing is that I get to build this world of imagination and live in it for months before it gets to you. Sooo, I'm very nervous and excited to push Anubis out as a second fic within this universe— which now I have decided is going to be called — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔. Without further ado, enjoy, fairies! ♥

1996

There's a soft whisper in your bones, each time you wake up in the morning. As your eyes flutter open, the room is dimly lit, shadows dancing on the ceiling. All your demons are staring at you from above. They have been there when you went to sleep, and they are still there when you wake up. You know them all too well—regrets, doubts, fears—they've become familiar companions in the lonely hours of the night. They whisper tales of your failures, amplifying every mistake, every misstep, until they echo like thunder in your mind.

But would it be any different if your steps turned the other direction? Would the cosmos allow you to be? Possibly. You, however, will never know what life would be without blood flowing down the stream, dirty money from all the sins you've watched being committed.

You will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it. But the thought is fleeting, for you know deep down that he is as much a part of your story as the demons that haunt you. His presence has shaped you in ways both profound and subtle, leaving an indelible mark on your soul and your body. The agonising pain within still remains and all you can think of is how did you get to this point in your story.

"Bitches come and go, Peaches—" you recalled those words like it was yesterday they were uttered.

"—but you and him, love, you be for life."

An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that's what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn't always like that. There was a time when you resented Namjoon and every word that came out of his plump lips.

Kim Namjoon was trouble and the whole Bronx knew so. Heck, even the whole state knew what kin he came from. You were no exception. But whatever you did, you never managed to put distance between you two.

The world seemed both infinitely vast and impossibly small when the streets of the Bronx were your stage. You were young when you met Namjoon, a whirlwind of youthful energy and reckless abandon, there he is, so vivid in your memories.

Every time you'd help around Anubis, you could see his straying eyes. He had an aura of mischief that drew you in like a moth to a flame. You remember the way his gaze lingered on your skin, straying from the task at hand to fixate on you with a mixture of fascination.

Namjoon's reputation preceded him like a shadow cast by the noonday sun. Entirely impossible to overlook, yet you did. His name was whispered in hushed tones in the back alleys and dark corners where his influence held sway, and that was only the beginning. The magnitude he reached decades later is for another story.

You had heard the rumors—the tales of his involvement with the local gangs, the whispers of his connections to the underworld that lurked beneath the surface of the city. Certainly, you would have to be lying if you said that Anubis was completely legal. You were not that stupid. While it bore the façade of a legitimate establishment, its roots ran deep into the murky waters of the criminal underworld.

Mrs. Jung could smile as widely as she wanted and reassure you that all was fine and all was taken care of, but you couldn't ignore the whispers that circulated about Anubis. Yet she paid triple what you could get in any regular bar. Not like you could work at a regular bar at the time at your age. Survival often depended on turning a blind eye to the unsavory realities of life that you would never be able to face alone. Money was tight and you could not afford to lose such a good-paying job. Even if it took what it took.

"His eyes are hungry for you, Peaches—" said Mrs. Jung while toying with the little umbrella that was swimming in her Kamasutra drink you'd prepared just a few minutes ago. You envisioned your life in the city just like she had, Saint Laurent heels clicking loudly as you would walk down the streets of Manhattan. You admired your lady boss from her head to toes. Mrs. Jung was a symbol of pussy and power. Until she was not. The power was given to her and once she rejected to meet the expectations, it was taken from her.

"—But that's all he can do, at least for now."

She winked your way and then her attention turned to the approaching male figure. What she meant by that is loud and clear. You are underaged and Namjoon cannot make any move on you even if he wanted to. And you knew he respects you that much. Although something tells you that this would be the least illegal thing he would’ve committed.

You’ve met Mark Tuan on occasion when he stopped by the bar. She was not Mrs Jung at the time, yet the notorious life of your lady boss, confused you even then. The way she and Mr Jung behaved around each other gave you the impression that he is her lover and not the tattooed boy that fucked the brains out of her in the office upstairs.

You felt the pain that was reflected on Jung Hoseok’s face when he asked where is she and you had to answer truthfully. The only thing you knew about Namjoon was that he and the Jungs ran way back. Their primary, and to the upper world’s eye, legal assets were the distilleries that distribute whiskey and brandy which you were serving each night till early hours of the morning.

The moment he particularly chose to visit the bar only those evenings you’ve been around was a louder hint shouted your way. As if you haven’t already figured. There was something intoxicating about the way he moved through the world and the way he moved you once your eyes locked.

The way he spoke to you, listened to you so attentively, gave advice on occasion and provided a shoulder to lean on, was all pulling you to him even more. It made you forget about all the skeletons that were in his closet.

The air crackled with anticipation as he walked through the room each night, straight to you, his gaze fixing on you with a mixture of fascination and desire. But amidst the heat of the moment, there was a shadow of doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.

Mrs. Jung's sudden disappearance, Namjoon taking over the day-to-day operations of Anubis—it all seemed too convenient, too perfect to be mere coincidence. It gave him the opportunity to watch you, keep you safe. You were scared that he'd cut you off whenever you fucked up something. But he never did; rather the opposite, offering you a lifeline when you needed it most. There was a chemistry between you that defied explanation, a silent understanding that transcended words.

The way his muscular torso almost pressed against yours in the storage room took your breath away instantly. The faint scent of his cologne enveloped you as he leaned in closer, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Surrounded by crates and boxes of expensive alcoholic beverages, the world seemed to fade away. His hand brushed against yours while he was lifting it, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins as you met his gaze. Reaching above your head to envelop his slender fingers around the throat of the bottle that you could not reach before, he slowly moved closer to hover above your lips. You trembled under his gaze on your lips that were slightly parted; you were panting at this point, reminding you of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of your forbidden romance.

"Just a moment longer."

His voice was a low murmur, a seductive whisper that sent a thrill racing through your veins. Despite the warning bells that rang in the recesses of your mind, you couldn't deny the pull he had over you, the magnetic attraction that drew you closer with each passing moment, his presence overwhelming in the confined space of the storage room. You knew that this was wrong, and yet, as his breath ghosted over your skin, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.

You would never deny it, but you could not accept it and return his affections the way he wished you would. This was temporary. You never planned to stay in Anubis for longer than needed. It was not where you belonged, and the criminal underbelly of the Bronx was not the life you had envisioned for yourself.

You could not understand what made him stay away from you for such a long time. But it certainly created an opening for you to re-think your next steps.

Somehow, being twenty-one did make you feel the anticipation of living a life. Almost twenty-two when you graduated from college that could be paid as your earnings in Anubis allowed so. Slowly, your little life in the farthest corner of Bronx would come to an end and you could move into the city. Get a job, maybe even a man and kids later. You wanted that white-picket-fence life and you knew that if you wanted to live it peacefully, staying here was not an option.

Your father was strongly against you leaving even though he never approved of the life you led in the dark of nights. He was not a saint either, his hands stained with the same sins that plagued the streets of the Bronx. There was no man in the whole New York City that would not know the name Kim Namjoon and your father was not an exception. Although, you never had the courage to mention his name and acknowledge that the man your father praises when he drinks his beer and plays poker with his drunkard old pals, is spending his evenings talking to you.

"I tell ya all, that Namjoon boy has got a head on his shoulders like no other," your father's voice boomed across the small kitchen.

"A real businessman, that one," a flicker of unease stirring in the pit of your stomach as you caught sight of the familiar glint of admiration in your step-father's eyes. Namjoon's name hung in the air between you, a silent reminder of the bond that had formed between you in the shadows of Anubis.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up running this whole city someday, right, Peaches?" You forced a smile, a wave of uncertainty washing over you as you considered the implications of your father's words. Namjoon's ambitions were as vast as the city itself, his influence reaching far beyond the confines of Anubis and the criminal underworld it symbolized.

"That's Mr. Jung's place, dad," you shook your head disapprovingly but with a smile on your face. His comrades laughed and shared similar ideas as he did though.

"That would be a boy for your Peaches," one of his comrades chuckled, the sound echoing off the walls of the cramped kitchen as they continued to sing Namjoon's praises after you only silently smiled again and opted not to respond. Your father however scoffed. He praised him, yes. But would he approve of his only child being with such a man like Namjoon is?

"When are you leaving for the city, young Missy?" Old man whose name you've never known asked with a cigarette in his mouth, looking over his cards rather than your way.

"Don't even support her in that big apple bullshit." You felt a pang of disappointment at his lack of support, but you were not surprised. You glanced around the kitchen, meeting the eyes of the men gathered there, each one offering their own opinion on your future. Some nodded in agreement with your step-father, while others remained silent, their expressions unreadable.

"Don't listen to those old men, child—"

"You got dreams, girl. Don't let nobody hold you back from chasing 'em.”

Truth to be told. The job, white fence, man and kids were not your dreams. You did not really know what to dream of, being restricted in such a dark part of the world that Bronx was for many, you did not even know why you hate your home like that. And you certainly weren’t even sure what is it to have a dream. But you hoped you’ll create some once you step your foot down, somewhere else than here. It doesn’t have to be Manhattan in particular. Anywhere but here is fine.

"Peaches, love, be sweet and bring us another beer from the fridge on your way to work, would ya?"

The request snapped you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present moment. With a nod, you forced a smile, hiding the turmoil within as you moved to comply with his request. You were sure you'd be late to your shift at Anubis yet again, but you knew that Namjoon would turn a blind eye. He always did when it came to you.

But Namjoon was not present the moment you stepped into Anubis that night. As you made your way through the dimly lit interior of Anubis, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a heavy blanket. The usual hustle and bustle of the bar seemed muted, the air thick with tension as you approached the bar.

Mrs. Jung was still nowhere to be found and therefore, for a few months, Namjoon had replaced her. But tonight he was not here. He usually came around ten p.m. and stayed until you cleaned the very last table and closed the bar.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and set about your duties, determined to carry on despite the growing sense of unease that lingered in the air. But as the night wore on, the feeling of dread only intensified, leaving you on edge as you awaited Namjoon's return.

You watched the sun rising through the large windows that let the light come into the bar that was still beaming with a significant number of people of various ages. Despite your efforts to focus on your tasks, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. Where could he be? Why hadn't he shown up as usual? The questions nagged at you, fueling the unease that had settled in your stomach like a lead weight.

"Peaches?!" You heard the voice of one of the local and returning customers from the other side of the dancing floor. He was a friend. Or so you thought. He raised two fingers into the air and in a second you were already pouring the brownish liquid of Jung's Whiskey into the crystal-clear glasses.

You walked over to the table he was sitting at alongside a face you'd never seen before. Thanking you for the drinks, he pointed his thumb to the man sitting next to him.

"Peaches, Jinyoung—"

"Jinyoung, Peaches."

You offered a polite smile, acknowledging the introduction as you set down the drinks on the table. The unfamiliar man, Jinyoung, returned the gesture with a nod, his expression unreadable.

"Nice to meet you, Jinyoung," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Jinyoung's gaze met yours, his eyes dark and probing as if searching for something within you. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort under his scrutiny, a feeling that only added to the unease already gnawing at your insides. Something about him set off alarm bells in your mind, a primal instinct warning you to tread carefully.

"What's a beauty like you doing tucked in Anubis?" Jinyoung asked, his voice smooth and velvety. You glanced around the dimly lit bar, suddenly aware of the eyes that seemed to linger on you from every corner, not understanding why.

"I... I work here," you said, a sudden shyness prevailing on the surface. You never really engaged with other men apart from Namjoon. For some reason, each time a man approached you, all of them quickly backed out, opting to not even look your way. For a long time, you did not know what you did wrong to chase them all away. But you got to know that night.

Jinyoung's lips quirked into a knowing smile, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I can offer you a better job, beauty," his words dripping with a seductive allure, and in that moment, you decided you needed to get back to work ASAP. He sounded like trouble you did not want on your last days here.

"I... I appreciate the offer, but I'm quite content here," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"You sure? I could have good use of someone like you, Peaches." Your heart pounded in your chest as Jinyoung's words washed over you. He played with your name on his tongue, and you had a hint that the job he was offering you would be something much worse than working in Anubis.

"Easy, Jinyoung, that's Namjoon's girl you're talking to." Jackson finally spoke up as if he heard your little begging in your head, but this was not what you expected him to say. Were you Namjoon's girl? Years went by and he merely brushed upon your hand with his own. There was no attempt to woo you directly. So how come everyone saw it this way—you as Namjoon's girl?

"I'm not Namjoon's girl—" you said, standing your ground for once. You saw Jackson's eyes widen and Jinyoung smirk at your remark.

"I'm no one's girl—"

"Nonetheless, thanks for the offer but I have to decline." Jinyoung's smirk widened at your words, his gaze flickering with amusement as if he found your defiance entertaining. A second later you were on your way back to the bar. He was Jackson's friend, but he was crude and he did not understand he ought to fuck off. The grip you suddenly felt on your upper arm was painful enough to make you wince, yanking you back as you squinted your eyes from the pain of his touch.

"What makes you say no if you're no one's slu—" your ears picked up his words before they were silenced. Forever. His last words were cut off by a deafening gunshot, leaving you frozen in shock. The sound of it still ringing in your ears as you turned to see the source of the chaos. There, standing with a smoking gun in his hand, was Namjoon, his expression unreadable as he stared down at Jinyoung's lifeless form. One side of Jackson's face was covered in blood that was his friend's, his shock mirroring your own. And you were scared to even move an inch.

Namjoon had just killed a man in cold blood, he shot him right in front of you. Without mercy. Panic surged through you as you realized the gravity of what had just transpired. The grip he had on your upper arm weakened yet remained even after his head fell down. It was a clear shot to the side of his head.

By now, half of the bar emptied, only those underworld rats stayed unfazed. Namjoon was always so calm, so collected. But now, he looked like a completely different person. The bar had fallen into an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breathing. You wanted to run, but your legs failed you, unable to move as the reality of the situation sank in.

"What—" your heart hammered in your chest as you searched for something, anything, to say, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the weight of the moment. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You reached to pull your hand away from Jinyoung's lifeless grip and while you struggled to do so, the scenery before you was not helping you to calm down. The side of his head blown up, you could see parts of his brain, immediately making you empty your stomach on the floor. The fact that Namjoon hadn't said a word since he literally came out of nowhere was not contributing to the situation either.

You heard his smooth voice but it was too muffled at this point. He was giving orders to Jackson, but you did not understand a single word coming out of his mouth. Your head was spinning and the room felt like a carousel.

"Why would you—" you began to stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The question died on your lips, swallowed by the overwhelming sense of dread that hung heavy in the air. Namjoon had just committed an act of unspeakable violence, ending a man's life without a second thought. Nothing will be the same ever again. You stayed out of all the illegalness that surrounded Anubis on purpose. What eyes don't see, heart doesn't hurt. What you don't know, can't hurt you. But now you eye-witnessed such brutality and he won't let you walk away to the other end of the rainbow.

You did not expect him to hear you nor even answer your remark, but of course, Kim Namjoon was always here to listen to you.

"He touched you."

The words hit you like a physical blow, jolting you out of your stunned silence. He wasn't just stating a fact; he was issuing a warning, a chilling reminder of the consequences of crossing him. Looking him in the eye, he looked like a possessive maniac, like someone determined to protect what he perceived as his.

"He didn't—" you began, your voice faltering under the weight of Namjoon's scrutiny. Yet you stopped yourself to think whether Jinyoung's intentions were harmless or not. You remembered the way Jinyoung had leered at you, his touch lingering where it shouldn't have.

"No one can touch you, Peaches."

You felt a chill run down your spine as the weight of his words settled over you. It wasn't just a declaration; it was a promise, a vow to protect you at any cost. But beneath the surface, you sensed something darker, something primal and possessive that sent chills down your body.

You were paralyzed by the intensity of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from his. Your mind raced with a million thoughts and questions, but you knew better than to voice them.

That night you started to hate each and every gaze he threw your way when you were working, all the men running away after uttering a single word to you, and all the remarks about you being Namjoon's girl.

But were you ready to be Namjoon's girl? To be part of his world?

You sit up, the sheets clinging to your skin like a shroud, and confront the spectres that linger above. Even after some weeks, you still cannot shake off the tremor you've experienced that night.

"Peaches?!" You heard your father's voice. You were hidden in the confines of your small room for days now, coming out only to take a bottle of water, and even that you managed to minimize by taking the whole six-pack. You couldn't bring yourself to respond.

The look in Namjoon's eyes, the sound of the gunshot ringing in your ears, the sight of Jinyoung's lifeless body—all of it was seared into your mind, haunting you like a relentless spectre. You needed some time. But it was running out quickly.

Lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts, you remained silent, grappling with the weight of the choices that lay before you. You packed your bag last night, all the cash stuffed inside at various places, just to be turned right back on your heel by two muscular men you'd never met before. The color they wore was emerald green, and you quickly understood that those were Jung soldiers, if you could call them that.

Your father was similarly confused. His eyes were darting between you and the soldiers as he struggled to make sense of the situation. So here you are, awaiting when he will decide to collect you. What is he waiting for? You knew that your time was running out; you just didn't know exactly when it would run out.

In that moment that night, you missed the Namjoon you thought he was. All you could see was a stranger, a dangerous man whose actions had shattered your illusions and left you reeling in their wake. Yes, you knew his line of work, but you'd rather not see it with your own two eyes. You'd rather stay oblivious to who he really was just to keep the picture of the Namjoon you knew hanging a little bit longer.

"You can't hide there forever." And you certainly did not plan to, but coming out to see your father's worried face after he sees how disheveled you look could wait for another day or so. You did not know what Namjoon intended to achieve by making you a prisoner in your own home.

Every fiber of your being wanted to hate Namjoon, but you did not know whether that was even possible with how smart that man was with his mouth.

This cage of fear and uncertainty made you uneasy. The wind that forcefully closed your window awoke you from your thoughts. You lived on the second floor of an old block of apartments. You moved toward the old rusted window, cautiously pushing it open again. The cool night air rushed to meet your cheeks, and you closed your eyes to feel it.

Peering down, you assessed the drop. It wasn't too high, and the fire escape just below offered a feasible route. Why had it not occurred to you earlier?

"Peaches, please, talk to me. They've been saying that you can't go out and should wait for sajangnim Kim."

Your father's voice was strained, a mix of concern and frustration. You hesitated, torn between the urge to reassure him and the pressing need to just run for the hills before it was too late for you.

What you realized in the moment, listening to his muffled pleas, was that this might be the last time you'd see him. You couldn't come back to the Bronx ever again. Nor New York. You weren't sure exactly what the magnitude of Jung's power was that Namjoon shared, but you had the hunch that wherever you'd hide in this state, he would find you.

"Dad?" you said softly, your voice barely a whisper. You felt a lump in your throat, the weight of the impending goodbye pressing down on you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"I'm here, Peaches," your father responded, his voice breaking slightly. "Please, come out. We'll figure this out." Tears welled up in your eyes as you clung to the closed door.

"It's no go, Dad."

"Please, just open the door." His voice was closer now, just outside the door.

You glanced around your room, grabbing your packed bag and slipping it over your shoulder.

"I love you, Dad. I'm sorry. Bye—"

With a final, sorrowful glance toward the door, you slipped out of the window, your feet finding purchase on the metal grating of the fire escape. You descended quickly, not daring to look back. The metal stairs creaked under your weight, each step taking you further from the life you knew. You needed to disappear.

You had no shoes on, and the white tank top clung to your skin, outlining your curves and breasts. The night air was cool against your exposed skin, a harsh contrast to the warmth of your tears. The metal of the stairs felt rough under your bare feet, but you pushed forward until you were all the way down.

Catching your breath and glancing around the dimly lit alleyway, the city felt oppressively silent, the only sound your own ragged breathing. As you took a step forward, a soft scoff resonated in your ears, leaving you standing there frozen. The man was totally invisible in the dark shadows of the alley between the buildings until he pulled out his zippo lighter to light a cigarette, illuminating his face. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Where are you headed, Peaches?"

The man who was casually leaning against the cold bricks wasn't unfamiliar to you. You, as a barmaid at Anubis, had the extravagant privilege to meet four out of the big seven. Kim Taehyung being one of them, standing here in front of you.

"Mr. Kim," you breathed, dread pooling in your stomach. You were on a first-name basis only with Namjoon even though they all scolded you, especially your lady boss, for being way too formal and polite, making them feel older than they actually are. Truth be told, you were putting some distance between them, but you utterly failed to do so with Namjoon, and here you are, on the run.

"I'm your family now, Peaches," Taehyung said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You should start getting used to that, so drop the mister finally."

You gritted your teeth, trying to steady your nerves as you faced Taehyung. "Taehyung," you corrected yourself, though the informal address felt wrong on your tongue.

"That's better, what a good girl you can be," he said with a smirk, taking a step closer. His presence felt suffocating, a reminder of the dangerous world you had stumbled into.

"Why are you here, Taehyung?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

"Why are you here, Peaches?" Taehyung countered, his tone filled with amusement. You bit the inside of your mouth, feeling the nerves tighten their grip on you.

"Getting some fresh air," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Ah, yes, because nothing says 'fresh air' like sneaking out of your window in the dead of night," he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you. "I just needed to clear my head," you said, hoping he would buy your flimsy excuse.

"You are not planning to do anything stupid now, Peaches, right?" You paused, considering your response carefully. Taehyung's tone, though casual, carried a hint of warning that sent a shiver down your spine. You slightly shook your head to show dismissal.

"Namjoon-hyung said you looked pretty shaken up that night." You couldn't help but tense at Taehyung's mention of Namjoon, a surge of apprehension coursing through you. You had tried to bury the memories of that night deep within you, but they continued to resurface, haunting your every thought.

"I'm fine," you replied, forcing a tight smile. "Just had a rough night, that's all."

"It looks like you're about to have another one to me." Your heart skipped a beat at Taehyung's ominous remark, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Despite his casual demeanor, there was an underlying tension in the air that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rising sense of unease.

"Unzipped duffle bag, dollar bills fell from it while you were going down, that looks like you were very eager to get that fresh air."

"I... I was just going for a walk," you stammered, scrambling for an excuse. Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering.

"Without putting your shoes on?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Taehyung's scrutiny bearing down on you. "I couldn't sleep," you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I needed some fresh air to clear my head.” You repeat yourself, but you know that you can’t fool him no matter what.

Taehyung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he shrugged, as if dismissing the matter altogether. "Well, you certainly know how to make an exit," he remarked, his smirk never faltering.

You forced a weak smile, trying to mask the unease bubbling inside you. "Guess I've always had a flair for the dramatic," you quipped, though the words rang hollow in your ears.

Taehyung chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "That you do, Peaches. That you do," he said cryptically, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"You know, Namjoon doesn't like it when his... family goes missing," he said, the emphasis on 'family' making you flinch. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a lazy stream.

You clenched your fists, feeling trapped. "I'm not missing," you said, your voice firmer than before. "I'm right here."

"I'd probably get a head start if I were you." Taehyung nodded slowly, as if considering your words.

Your heart pounded in your chest. "A head start?"

He took another drag, the smirk never leaving his lips. "I'm not a monster, Peaches. I'll give you a five-minute head start before I come after you."

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. He was actually giving you a chance to run, but this time you would know someone was after you. You glanced around, calculating your options. The streets were empty, but you knew they wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Five minutes, Peaches. Starting now."

You turned and ran, your bare feet slapping against the pavement. The adrenaline coursed through your veins as you sprinted down the alley, knowing that Taehyung's smirk was etched in your mind.

You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you had to get as far away as possible. Everything blurred as you pushed yourself to run faster, the sound of your heartbeat drowning out everything else.

If you hide well, he can't find you, can he? You just have to find yourself a place to hide until morning and then you can wait till sunrise, get to the airport and fly to the first destination that will pop up.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

The five minutes neared their end, and you knew you couldn't stay hidden forever. You had to keep moving, keep putting distance between you and Taehyung. Peering through the leaves, you scanned the area, your mind racing through possible routes and hiding spots.

"If I don’t bring you back, he'll come instead, Peaches!" Taehyung's voice echoed through, taunting you.

"You don't want to anger him, do you now?"

You needed a plan, and fast. Glancing around, you noticed a narrow passageway between two buildings, just wide enough for you to squeeze through. It might lead you to a different part of the neighborhood, giving you a chance to lose Taehyung in the labyrinth of backstreets.

You bolted towards the passageway, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The alley was narrow and dark, but you pushed forward, heart pounding in your chest. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night.

"They all run at first, Peaches—" Taehyung's voice echoed, closer now. "You're cute thinking you have a chance to get away."

It was way too narrow even if you put your bag down from your shoulder and dragged it as you tried to squeeze through. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night, and you were scared that he would get to you soon. You knew he was out there, somewhere, searching for you.

"Although, my mind is troubled. Why, out of all of them, do you run?" There was a pause, then a chuckle.

You pushed yourself harder, feeling the rough brick walls scrape against your skin. You needed to keep moving, but you also needed a moment to think. The airport was too far, especially when they were already looking for you. You thought you were clever to disappear through the window as if you were in some cheesy cliché movie.

"Namjoon-hyung was always good to you, wasn't he?" He was. Until the moment someone else's brain was blown up by him right in front of you, simply because of his possessiveness while he never made you two exclusive. Or at least you thought so, as it showed—you were claimed by him sooner than you actually realized. You felt the panic rising in your chest, threatening to overwhelm you.

"You have no reason to run, Peaches," Taehyung's voice was taunting, echoing off the walls. "Namjoon-hyung will be so disappointed when he finds out how far you've gone." You ignored the majority of his words, focusing on finding a way out.

You closed your eyes and tried to think harder this time. The old train yard—bingo—it was on the outskirts of the city. It was abandoned, a place where few people ventured. If you could make it there, you might be able to find a boxcar to hide in until morning.

"Family doesn't abandon family, Peaches!" You heard his voice again, this time more distant.

Emerging from the passageway, you found yourself in a small courtyard. It was littered with old furniture and discarded trash; the smell was awful, but you didn't have time to dwell on that.

You listened intently, straining to hear any sign of Taehyung. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog.

You stuck to the shadows, moving as quietly as possible. The train yard was a long way off, but it was your best shot at staying out of immediate reach. Or so you thought.

You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every rustle of leaves, every distant footstep made you jump. You forced yourself to stay calm, to focus on the path ahead. Panicking would only slow you down.

The city's edge came into view, the silhouette of the train yard looming in the distance. You quickened your pace, the sight of your potential sanctuary giving you a burst of energy. You crossed the threshold into the yard, the rusted tracks and abandoned cars offering a twisted sense of comfort.

An old boxcar with the door slightly ajar beckoned to you. You slipped inside, the smell of rust and decay filling your nostrils. You closed the door behind you, plunging the space into darkness. It was cramped and musty, but it was hidden.

Sinking to the floor, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe. Your body ached, your feet throbbed, but you had made it. For now, you were safe. You could only hope that Taehyung would give up the chase, or at least lose your trail long enough for you to figure out your next move.

The sound of gravel crunching outside the boxcar woke you up and consequently made your heart jump into your throat. You held your breath, straining to listen. The footsteps were deliberate and slow, echoing through the stillness of the night.

You held your breath, trying to remain as quiet as possible. The footsteps drew closer, each crunch of gravel sending a shockwave through your body. Your mind raced with possibilities. Was it Taehyung? Or perhaps someone else stumbling upon your hiding spot?

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't throw her over your shoulder and take her back to her room." The older male shot him a glare.

"Oh come the fuck on, you're one to talk." It was Taehyung's voice, laced with frustration and annoyance.

“I did not lose her, I gave her choice and she chose wrong, she’ll be back though, in no time.” The younger one scoffed and Taehyung quirked his brows, evidently amused by his brother. 

"Well, at least that was my woman I lost and not our Hyung's." The tattooed heartthrob spat his friend's way when he heard his scoff.

"This isn't really my job. I'm only doing this because Namjoon cares about her too much to leave someone incompetent to watch her until he'll come back."

“Or you’re the only one without a woman, Tae.” You heard a little thump as if he jokingly punched him and the other voice chuckled. But first and foremost –

Namjoon's away. He did not come for you as he's away, and if away means out of the state, you have a bigger chance to make an exit than you originally thought.

Seeing him would only make things worse. Listening to his sweet melodies of words would make you doubt what Taehyung initiated—you have no reason to run. Apart from that, you do. He was deeply entrenched in the world of organized crime, his life a constant dance between power and peril. While his charming demeanor and enigmatic presence had drawn you in, you knew that his lifestyle came with its own set of risks and consequences.

He operated in the shadows, his actions dictated by a code of loyalty to his comrades and ruthlessness towards his enemies. At least that's what you heard people talk about the Jungs and their family man.

You didn't think there was room for innocence. But were you innocent? You had blood on your hands. Jinyoung's. You had been complicit in his demise. While it wasn't you who pulled the trigger, you were the motive.

As the voices grew louder, you strained to make out what they were saying. The sound of footsteps approached the boxcar, each one sending a jolt of fear through you. Were they getting closer? Were they about to open the door and drag you out into the open?

"I did not expect her to play the game that well, I have to give her that," Taehyung remarked, his voice tinged with admiration. Your heart raced as you listened to their conversation.

"Smart, just like he is."

The footsteps came to a stop just outside the boxcar, and you braced yourself for the door to swing open at any moment. Every nerve in your body was on edge, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

But instead of the door creaking open, the voices began to fade away, the gravel crunching underfoot growing softer as they moved further away. Relief washed over you in waves, but you remained cautious, waiting until the sound of their footsteps had disappeared entirely before allowing yourself to relax.

You stayed hidden in the darkness of the boxcar, unsure of how much time had passed. Eventually, the adrenaline began to ebb, leaving you exhausted and drained. You were scared that they were waiting outside and the moment you decided to move places would be fatal for you.

The growl in your stomach was loud, echoing in the empty boxcar. You hadn't eaten in what felt like an eternity, and the gnawing hunger was beginning to take its toll. Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever or you'd die of hunger very soon.

Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever. Peeking through the small gap, you scanned the area. The night was still, and there was no sign of Taehyung or anyone else.

Slipping out of the boxcar, you kept to the shadows, moving quietly and quickly. You needed to find food, but more importantly, you needed to find a safer place to hide. If you couldn't reach the airport, you'd have to wait somewhere until you were considered off the radar. Would Namjoon lose his interest if he knew you were gone for good? You hoped so, but you also strongly doubted that. The man had had his eyes set on you for three years or so, without ever losing interest in you.

The city was vast, with many nooks and crannies where you could potentially evade capture, but you moved in the dead of the night cautiously. Slowly closing the distance between the convenience store at least ten blocks from your home, its lights were still on and you thanked the almighty, or more so the 24 hour market in front of you.

The store seemed deserted, only a shabby-looking man in his mid-thirties sitting behind the counter, half asleep. You slipped inside, quickly grabbing some food and water before leaving to pay at the counter. When the doorbell rang indicating that a customer entered the small store, you froze in place.

You ducked behind a shelf, hoping the dim lighting and cluttered aisles would conceal you. Peering through a gap between products, you saw a figure enter. You may be paranoid but you wouldn't take the risk when you had managed to not be caught for what seemed like hours. You knew better.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of your heartbeat almost louder than the growling stomach from earlier. You clutched the food tightly, muscles tense, waiting for the perfect moment to quickly throw the few bucks on the counter and make your leave. You straightened a little.

It wasn't him. It was just a person that resembled him. With a rush of relief, you moved to the counter. The shabby-looking clerk barely glanced up as you placed your items down and reached into your pocket for the money. Just as you were about to pay, a hand slammed the money down on the counter in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes widened.

You looked up slowly, dread pooling in your stomach. Taehyung stood beside you, his eyes locking onto yours with a cold, triumphant smile.

"My treat," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with mock politeness. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The clerk, oblivious to the tension, lazily rang up the items and handed the change to Taehyung. He pocketed it without breaking eye contact with you.

You acted rather quickly after you regained your senses, but the exit was blocked by the man you saw earlier. How could you not recognize the famous heartthrob of this decade, Jeon Jungkook? Only a few people knew of his connection to the Jungs, Kims, and Parks.

"Going somewhere?" Jungkook's voice was smooth and exactly identical to the one you heard outside of the boxcar, but there was an edge to it that sent chills down your spine. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam.

Panic surged through you as you realized your escape route was cut off. You glanced around the store, searching for another way out, but Taehyung's hand clamped down on your arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

The clerk did not care to intervene; he knew their faces and what they represented. One girl was not worth the trouble for him.

"Let's go," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. You had no choice but to follow, your mind racing with thoughts of escape. As you stepped out of the store, the chilly night air hit you, a stark contrast to the suffocating presence of Taehyung beside you. You scanned the street for any potential way out, but Taehyung's grip on your arm tightened, steering you toward a nearby alley.

You stumbled slightly, trying to keep pace with him. The alley was dark and narrow, the perfect place for someone to disappear. Desperation surged through you, fueling your determination. You had to find a way out of this.

"You lasted more than I expected, Peaches. I have to give you that." You fought to suppress the shiver that threatened to run down your spine. Taehyung's voice, usually smooth and melodic, now held an edge of something darker, something sinister.

"But it's time to go home."

The weight of his intentions pressed down on you like a heavy stone. You did not know what home he was speaking of. Your home? Namjoon's home? You'd never been there; you couldn't know what home he meant. But something told you that wherever he'd take you, "home" would be a gilded cage, a place of confinement disguised as comfort.

You remained silent, your jaw clenched in defiance as you continued to walk, your eyes darting around the alley for any sign of escape. But every corner seemed to lead to another dead end, and the walls closed in around you like a vice.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the desperation hit your nerves. Taehyung's grip tightened slightly, as if warning you against any further attempts at escape.

"There was no need to run, Peaches." Wasn't there? You stopped to think for a minute. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

With a sudden burst of strength, you twisted out of Taehyung's grip and bolted. The sound of his shout echoed behind you, but you didn't look back. You darted through the maze of backstreets, your only goal to put as much distance between you and Taehyung as possible.

Reaching a dead end, you spotted a fire escape ladder. Without a second thought, you began climbing, your fingers slipping on the cold metal. You reached the rooftop, not daring to look back as you sprinted across the gravel. The cityscape stretched before you, a chaotic playground of rooftops and danger.

You leaped from one building to the next, each landing jarring your bones, but you couldn't stop. You heard Taehyung's voice calling your name, a mix of frustration and anger, but you didn't dare slow down. You reached the edge of a particularly wide gap between buildings and hesitated, just a split second too long.

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you back. You thrashed, but the grip was unyielding. Jungkook's face came into view, his expression grim. He was faster than Taehyung, and you knew your chances to outrun him were slight, but you still hoped.

"You can't run forever, Peaches," he said quietly, almost regretfully. You could hear Taehyung's leather boots stomping against the roof's concrete and his ragged breath in unison.

You struggled, kicking and clawing, but he held firm. Your heart sank as the reality of the situation set in. Just then, you heard the uncomfortable digital sound of the Motorola flip phone that was in Taehyung's hand once he stopped in front of you.

"Hmm?" Taehyung answered the phone and ended the gut-wrenching sound. You knew who was on the other side of the line. Jungkook still held you securely, his eyes never leaving yours.

There was a pause, and then he handed you the phone.

"Your Mr. Man wants to speak to you."

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the phone heavy in your hand. With a deep breath, you brought it to your ear, steeling yourself for the inevitable confrontation with Namjoon.

"Hello?" Your voice trembled slightly, betraying the fear and uncertainty swirling within you.

"You're losing sleep, love," he said, his tone smooth but laced with a menacing undertone. You took a shaky breath.

"S-so are you." He chuckled. You bit the inside of your lip out of nerves.

"I'd sleep better if you came back to me like the good girl I know you are."

The mixture of his charm and underlying threat was intoxicating and terrifying.

"I can't, Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't live like this anymore. I never wanted to live like this, and you knew that."

"Life is just about to begin for you, love—" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Our life," he added, and your grip tightened around the phone.

"What does that even mean?" you demanded, a mix of anger and desperation coloring your words.

"It means," he began, his voice smooth yet chilling, "that whatever you fear, we'll figure this out together."

"Please, Namjoon," you begged, your voice barely a whisper. "Let me go. I can't. I just can't," you cried out.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you held your breath, hoping against hope that he might relent. Your heart pounded with a mix of fear and helplessness.

"Freedom is an illusion, love," he said, almost gently. "The only freedom you'll ever have is with me. Now, come back. We'll talk this through, and I promise you, everything will be fine. Just trust me."

"Namjoon—"

"Peaches—" he quickly interrupted your attempt to plead again.

"Don't make me take harsher measures to ensure you'll come back to me." His tone grew colder, the underlying threat unmistakable.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" you asked, a tremor in your voice.

"You know what I can do. It would be a shame if the same thing happened to someone else you care about." His words hung in the air, heavy with menace.

You looked at Jungkook and Taehyung, their faces impassive yet resolute. They were ready to enforce Namjoon's will, no matter the cost.

"Why are you doing this to me?" you asked, voice quivering.

"We can talk about that once you come home," Namjoon replied, his voice smooth but unyielding.

"Namjoon, please..." you started, desperation lacing your words.

"Enough, Peaches," he cut you off sharply. "You know what's at stake. I expect you back within an hour. Hand the phone to Taehyung."

With a heavy heart, you handed the phone back to Taehyung. He took it, his eyes filled with a mix of pity, but you didn't think it was genuine. You felt Jungkook's grip loosen slightly, but not enough to let you go.

Taehyung listened to Namjoon for a moment, then nodded. "Understood," he said before hanging up. He looked at you, his expression resigned.

"Let's go," he said softly.

You don't even know how you managed to fall asleep in the car. They took your bag, draped a warm blanket over you, and sat you down on the back seat. You did not protest anymore, even though the thought of jumping out of the car went through your head briefly.

You thought of your father, your friends, and everyone you ever met and cared for when he took the ultimate move that would make you leave everything in a heartbeat. You don't want more blood on your hands.

At the same time, you could not understand why Namjoon would take such harsh measures. This wasn't the Namjoon you knew—heck, you don't even know if you ever knew that man.

The lavish room surrounding you was magnificent and screaming one name: Namjoon. Even his scent was clinging to every single piece of the room. The silk sheets clung to your skin, and you couldn't help but close your eyes again. The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a golden hue across the room.

You could hear the audible difference in your surroundings. The Bronx had a distinctive hum, a chaotic symphony of life and struggle. But this—this was different. The sounds outside the open window were unmistakably Manhattan. The distant buzz of traffic, the occasional honk of a horn, and the muffled chatter of people far below created a stark contrast to the quiet tension inside.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. Every moment spent here felt like a betrayal to the life you once knew, the people you once loved. But escape wasn't just about physical freedom—it was about breaking free from the psychological chains Namjoon had wrapped around you.

You did not know whether you weren't running for the hills now because this oddly feels like you are meant to be here or because you don't know if you should. You spent a lot of time rolling around and thinking about this. You had not come to a conclusion yet. You'd only decided that you would give him the courtesy to talk after all the years that he and his family supported you by giving you a job.

With that resolve, you climbed out of bed, feeling the weight of silk sheets slipping away. The cold floor sent a shiver up your spine, bringing you fully awake. You made your way to the bathroom, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you. You need a haircut, maybe even a new hair color.

The shower's hot water provided a temporary refuge, washing away the grime and tension of the past few days. After drying off, you dressed in clothes Namjoon had probably laid out for you—an unspoken reminder of his control.

You entered the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast hung in the air. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the rich aroma of bacon and eggs, momentarily distracting you. You were starving.

As you moved further into the room, a sudden noise made you jump. Startled, you turned to see a figure in a white chef's uniform bustling about the kitchen. He looked up, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you.

"Good morning, Misses Kim," he said with a polite nod. "I didn't expect you to be up so early.” The title he used sent a shiver down your spine. Misses Kim. It was as if the walls were closing in, suffocating you with the weight of an identity that wasn’t yours to claim. You overlooked yourself and your attire.

You could see your bra-less breasts and perky nipples through that white tanktop, but the chef was trained well enough to not look that way. He would most likely be beheaded by Namjoon if he would dare to look that way.

"Good morning," you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of nerves and hunger. You forced a small smile.

The chef, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, set down the spatula he was holding and wiped his hands on a towel. "My name is Seo Kang-joon, Misses Kim. I'm Sajangnim's private chef—" you figured that much. Of course that man has a private chef when he cannot boil a potato for the love of God.

"He tasked me to make you some breakfast and tell you he'll be with you shortly," he explained, gesturing to the array of food laid out on the counter.

You nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Your stomach growled audibly, and despite the chaos in your mind, the food before you was an undeniable lure. You picked up a piece of toast, buttering it slowly as Kang-joon resumed his work.

"How long have you been working for Namjoon?" you asked, trying to fill the silence with something other than your own anxious thoughts.

Kang-joon glanced up from the stove, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "About three years now," he replied. "I've switched with my Appa; he was working for the Kims for two generations and now it's my turn—"

"That's a long time," you said, taking a bite of the toast, the warmth of the food providing a small comfort.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, his voice gentle. "Namjoon is a good employer, he's always treated us fairly. And he cares about you a great deal—"

"I've seen you before, didn't I?" you interrupted, suddenly recalling a moment that had slipped through your mind like sand.

"At the private party last month. You were serving food, right?"

Kang-joon nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes, that was me. I remember seeing you there, although you were quite busy too—"

You were supposed to be waitressing the tables, plural, yet you only waitressed one table that night. As per usual.

"Yep, that was my reality, I guess," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Before all of this."

Kang-joon's expression turned somber, and he stopped cooking momentarily.

"Namjoon doesn't let anyone near you, but I've seen how happy you make him. He's different around you." Of course he thinks so. You don't blame him for his inability to see through this. It's not his place.

You fell silent, pondering his words. The chaos of Namjoon's life and the dark undercurrents that surrounded him felt suffocating. "But at what cost?" you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

"He means well—" he paused his thought and got silent, and you knew that means only one thing.

"I appreciate your loyalty to him," you said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on your lips.

"Good morning, love," he said, his voice deep and commanding. His eyes darted between you and Kang-joon, who stood with a spatula in hand, caught in the moment. "I hope you're both having a pleasant chat."

Kang-joon bowed slightly, and you could see the way he was careful to keep his composure, even as the atmosphere shifted with Namjoon's presence. "I was just finishing up breakfast, Sajangnim," he said politely. "Miss Kim and I were discussing your—"

"Thank you, Kang-joon," Namjoon interrupted, his tone suggesting a mixture of gratitude and an underlying tension. "I can take it from here."

The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken words. You looked at him, wanting to scream, wanting to run, wanting to demand answers.

"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asked, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to breach the walls that had begun to rise between you.

You nursed your coffee in the black ceramic mug while you shrugged, keeping the answer with spice in it for yourself just yet. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you could see the cracks in his façade when you didn't answer.

"I see... silent treatment," he gulped down, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Pouring himself a cup of coffee too, he leaned on the counter right in front of you. You took his appearance in. He got a buzz cut, creamy satin shirt tucked in leather pants. A few of the buttons were undone, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest.

"Is that really how you want to start the day?" he provoked. You set the mug down, the clink of ceramic against marble echoing in the tension-filled kitchen.

"Did you ask yourself the same question when you threatened me?" you shot back, your voice rising slightly as the memories flooded back. The anger surged within you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment you woke up in his penthouse.

Namjoon's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of defensiveness.

"Well, you for some reason seemed too adamant that you needed to patrol the streets of Bronx by running away from me. I know you too damn well, Peaches; I know where you were headed."

The words stung, each syllable laced with accusation and an unsettling truth. Your heart raced, the anger bubbling just below the surface.

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

"Oppa," he jumped in, his voice firm, yet tinged with a note of caution.

You inhaled sharply, the familiar term slicing through the tension like a knife. It reminded you of the intimate moments you once shared. "You've lost that honorific the moment you decided to threaten me and kill that man right in front of my eyes!"

Namjoon's jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"You don't understand the kind of world I'm in. We protect ours."

"Protect?" you spat, feeling the heat of betrayal wash over you.

"I'm a person who deserves to make her own choices—" He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.

"What choices are you making? Running off into the night like it's some kind of adventure? You think that's brave? I refuse to let you get hurt because you're unhappy with my decisions."

"Oh yeah, like something would happen to me—"

"You are my woman, and people know that you are, Peaches!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity, as if the weight of his words was meant to command respect from the universe itself.

Your heart raced at his proclamation, a mix of anger and something softer twisting in your gut.

"The fuck you're talking about, Namjoon?" You snapped, your voice echoing off the sleek kitchen walls. Anger surged within you, fueled by the sheer audacity of his claim.

"Not fucking once did you say that we ought to be official one day—" you shot back, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"You act like I'm some sort of possession, something you can just claim without any conversation or commitment!" Namjoon's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes.

"You need to stop pretending like we don't have a future because you're scared of the past," he said, smashing the mug down on the counter. Namjoon's jaw tightened, and the conflict in his eyes was palpable.

"Since we met, not fucking once have you made your intentions strictly clear, Namjoon! The fuck am I doing here then?!" The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the tense space between you.

He ran a hand over his face, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

"I thought you knew. I thought you felt it too," he replied, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I thought it was understood that it was a matter of time."

"Understood?" you scoffed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You think that just because you've made me a part of your life, I should automatically know my place? That's not how it works!"

"I was waiting till you'll—"

"Age of consent is eighteen in this state, Namjoon, keep that bullshit to yourself." Namjoon's expression darkened at your words, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"So you would rather be wifed and knocked up as soon as we met, am I right?"

The air crackled with tension as Namjoon's words hung in the space between you, a provocation that sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your breath hitch, a mixture of shock and anger coursing through you.

"So that's the plan now?" you lowered your voice.

His expression softened for a moment, and you could see the conflict etched across his features. "I thought you'd want that kind of future with me, Peaches. I thought we were on the same page from day one."

Despite Namjoon's willingness to talk, the remnants of fear and frustration churned within you, threatening to spill over. You took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. Your heart raced, the urge to flee growing stronger. He reached out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly.

"I love you, baby."

Your heart pounded in your chest at his words, a tumultuous blend of emotions crashing over you. You stood up from the stool you were sitting at, calmly aiming for the door. You didn't know what you were doing with this lame attempt to flee.

"Hey—" he shouted, but you did not stop. You could feel Namjoon's gaze burning into your back as you moved toward the door, his loud steps right behind you making you speed up the process.

You couldn't stop. The need to escape overwhelmed you, propelling you forward. You flung the door open, the sharp sound echoing in the silence that followed.

"Peaches!" he shouted again, his voice rising with urgency and desperation. The door rattled on its hinges as he leaned against it, trying to process what had just happened.

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He knew he had pushed too hard, but he couldn't help it.

You trembled under him, still facing the door while his arm was outstretched, palms on the door, blocking you from opening it again. Your breath quickened as you stood there, the cool metal of the doorknob biting into your palm. You could feel Namjoon's presence behind you.

"Let me go, Namjoon," you demanded, your voice steady but wavering just slightly. The pounding of your heart felt like a war drum, urging you to flee, to escape this suffocating moment.

"You would come back to me nonetheless." You turned around to face him, your expression a blend of defiance and vulnerability.

"What makes you think I would?" you shot back, turning slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. The intensity in his eyes made your pulse quicken, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling within you.

"Because you love me back—" He leaned down, not giving you time to argue, and seized the chance to crash his lips down on yours for the first time.

His hands grabbed onto your hips, pulling you closer, the heat from his body seeping into yours. Your heart raced, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as his tongue danced with yours in a heated embrace.

Namjoon's fingers dug into your skin, his grip firm yet tender, as if he was trying to brand you as his own. The kiss was raw, primal, and all-consuming, leaving you both breathless and wanting more.

Namjoon's eyes locked onto yours, the fire within them burning brighter than ever before. With a low growl, he pulled you close again, his lips crashing down on yours once more as the world around you continued to spin.

As the kiss broke, Namjoon pulled away, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I'm not done being angry," you said, your voice low but unwavering. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it both thrilled and terrified you.

Namjoon's brow furrowed slightly, surprise mingling with the intensity in his gaze. "I know that," he replied, his tone shifting, becoming more serious.

"Good," you spoke right to his lips, your heart still racing from the kiss. The mix of confusion and desire swirled within you, and you struggled to keep your composure.

The cognac brown couch was very comfortable, its soft cushions inviting you to sink in and relax. A glass coffee table with sleek chrome legs stood in front of it, its surface adorned with a stack of art books, a few scattered magazines, and a vintage crystal ashtray. So Namjoon.

A large, floor-to-ceiling window occupied one side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. A Persian rug, with intricate patterns in deep reds and blues, covered the polished hardwood floor, adding a touch of warmth and history to the contemporary space. Again, so Namjoon.

He was crouched down by the fireplace that dominated the place, his back to you. The fire cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, its light dancing over Namjoon's broad shoulders. He started the fire because he saw you shivering. But that had nothing to do with you being cold, and deep down he knew that too. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the floor as he stared into the flames.

You walked over to him, your footsteps silent on the plush rug. As you approached, Namjoon turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours. You sat down next to him.

"So, how do you imagine all this working?" you asked, your voice gentle yet tinged with the underlying frustration you felt.

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "Just like it did till now."

You frowned slightly, shaking your head.

"So I'm gonna go back to working in Anubis and you are going to keep shooting everyone who gets closer to me?!" you said, a bit harsher than you intended. Namjoon's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration.

"You are not coming back to work in Anubis, let's start with that," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

"My oh my, now you want to take the source of my income too." Namjoon shifted slightly, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. There was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

"You're my woman, Peaches. You don't need to work for money anymore," he started, his voice steady and filled with conviction.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "You can't be serious."

"Women in our clan don't work for decades, my woman is not gonna work either. At least not like that—" You narrowed your eyes, feeling a mixture of disbelief and intrigue at his declaration.

"That's not who I am, Namjoon." He leaned in closer, the firelight casting a warm glow over his chiseled features.

"Baby, I'm not asking you. I'm offering you the life you always deserved." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face.

"I've always been able to take care of myself."

“So now let me take care of you, sweetling.”

Your mind raced as you considered his words. The allure of a life without the constant threat of violence, without the stress of making ends meet, was tempting. But was it worth giving up your autonomy?

“You can still pursue your passions. I’m not taking that away from you,—” Namjoon paused, his expression softening.

“But no Anubis,” he took your hands into his.

“What do you want?” You asked quietly. He held your gaze, the firelight flickering across his face, illuminating the resolve etched in his features.

“I think I made my intentions strictly clear today.” He chuckled and exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m not just talking about safety and comfort, Peaches. I’m talking about us. About building a life together.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was determination.

“You want me to be your… what, exactly?” You knew, you just still didn’t want to believe it.

Namjoon leaned back slightly, still holding your hands, his thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing rhythm. “I want you to be mine—”

“Mind and body, heart and soul.” Namjoon's voice was low and earnest, each word weighted with sincerity.

You swallowed hard, trying to process the depth of what he was asking. “You mean… you want me to commit completely? To be yours in every sense?”

“And I’ll be yours.” He nodded, his eyes unwavering, filled with a mixture of affection and intensity. You felt a rush of emotions—a blend of excitement and fear.

“I can give you a life where you don’t have to look over your shoulder, where you can focus on what truly matters to you—your dreams, your passions, us.”

The promise of safety and love hung heavy in the air between you, and while the thought was tempting, a part of you still clung to your independence. It would be nice not to work long night hours in a bar full of drunk people to make ends meet. Not walking home with keys in your hand in case someone would jump you over or worse. Not living in a small old rusty apartment with your father who barely brought any income home.

The fire crackled softly, and you could feel the warmth radiating from it, mirroring the warmth blooming in your chest.

“I need time.” Namjoon’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening slightly as he processed your words. But he didn’t let go of your hands. Instead, he brought them to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his gaze unwavering.

“Time,” he echoed, the word almost foreign as it left his mouth. “You already had plenty of time.” The firelight cast shadows across his face, emphasizing the intensity etched into every line.

“You think time will change how you feel? Or how much I want you?” You felt a tremor run through you at the weight of his words. It was suffocating and yet strangely comforting, like a trap laced with silk, binding you softly but securely.

“No, Namjoon, I’m just—” Namjoon’s fingers brushed along your jawline, tipping your face up so that you met his gaze directly.

“I get that this must be overwhelming for you, but the time you are asking for is already up and done—”

“I didn’t know it was ticking,” you began, voice barely more than a whisper. Namjoon tilted his head, studying you, his lips quirking into a small, almost understanding smile.

“No more hidden exits, no more plans to escape. I want you here, with me, committed… without looking for a way out. And in return, I’ll take care of you and your father. That’s my promise to you.”

The warmth in his eyes almost made you believe that he meant well, that beneath the possessive intensity was a genuine desire to protect and love. Yet a lingering voice inside you warned that this love would be an all-consuming fire—one that would consume every part of you until there was nothing left to call your own.

Your mind was racing for the answer. If you say yes, you may as well forget who you were, but perhaps you will find yourself where you always wanted to be. Someone. But what if you say no?

“What if I won’t agree, Namjoon?” You asked, scared for the answer. Namjoon’s gaze darkened, the softness slipping away as his grip tightened just enough for you to feel the control he had over the situation. He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Peaches, let's not pretend that you really have a choice here." His tone was calm, as if explaining something simple, obvious, like the inevitability of night following day.

"Your father," he began slowly, each word dripping with calculated weight, "he's in no position to take care of himself, is he? Without you, what would he do? You've been carrying his burden for years, haven't you? Always working to support him, protecting him, making sure he's safe…"

His voice lowered, softening almost to a whisper, but it was filled with a quiet menace. "But if you refuse me… well, who do you think is going to keep him safe then?"

You felt your heart hammer in your chest, dread creeping into every corner of your mind as you took in his words. This was the second time he was threatening your father.

"What is wrong with you?" You said coldly, staring daggers at his pretty face.

"What's wrong with me?" he echoed, voice laced with a faint, mocking laugh. "I'm doing what needs to be done, Peaches. I'm making sure you understand the lengths I'm willing to go to keep you by my side. You think I'd just stand by and watch you slip away? Again?"

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight but loaded with a silent threat. "I know you love your father," he murmured, voice a dangerous purr. "And that's why I'm reminding you of what's at stake."

You felt anger and fear twist inside you. He let his hand fall, watching your reaction with unsettling calmness, as if daring you to resist. Namjoon had you cornered, and he knew it. Every ounce of control you'd thought you held slipped further from your grasp, his quiet threats carving invisible chains around you.

"Why would you put me in this position?" He sighed, his lips curving into a faint, almost pitying smile as he tilted his head, studying you.

"Because I've been loving you for years, and when I can finally have you, you are trying toplay feminist."

The words hit you like a slap, raw and stinging. You swallowed, unable to look away from the intensity in his eyes. That faint smile on his lips held no warmth; it was twisted with something darker, something possessive.

"Play feminist?" you echoed, your voice wavering with anger and disbelief. "Namjoon, wanting to make my own choices doesn't mean I'm defying you or 'playing' anything. It means I'm a person, with my own will—"

He cut you off, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head slowly, almost as if you'd amused him.

“Peaches, you still don’t understand, do you? I’m offering you a world where you’re safe, where you don’t have to fight every day to survive. You’d rather keep struggling, keep pretending you’re content living in that cramped one bedroom apartment while your father brings home beer money when you are fighting off every hardship, and here I am, ready to give you the life you deserve.”

His fingers gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze as he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with conviction.

“You think you want freedom, independence. But freedom isn’t safe, Peaches. Freedom won’t love you like I do. It won’t sacrifice or protect. It won’t give you everything at the cost of its own soul.”

He released you, letting his hand fall away, his gaze darkening. “This isn’t some game, and it isn’t about principles. It’s about us. And if that means you have to surrender some of that so-called independence, then so be it. I know what’s best for you, Peaches. You just need to stop fighting and see that.”

Namjoon’s gaze shifted to something darker, more resolute, as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. The firelight glinted off the soft pink morganite stone, antique piece that must have been in his kin for decades, its delicate beauty a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes. He held it up, his jaw set, the unspoken command clear in the way he presented it to you.

“Peaches,” he murmured, his voice dangerously calm, “will you marry me?”

Before you could even think to pull away, he took your hand firmly, holding it in place as he slid the ring onto your finger. It was cold against your skin, the weight of it foreign and heavy.

“Say yes.” His voice was low, steady, a dangerous edge lurking beneath the calm exterior. His eyes bore into yours, unwavering, challenging you to defy him. “Say it, Peaches. Agree to be mine, completely, or I’ll make sure you lose everything you’ve been holding onto.”

You felt trapped, his hand tightening around yours as if to remind you of his control over the situation. Your heart raced, your throat dry, as the words hovered on the edge of your lips, unable to escape. But he didn’t let go, his fingers pressing into your skin with an unyielding determination.

“Say it,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time, the softness slipping into something harder, more commanding.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a feeling of resignation sinking deep into your chest as you stared at the ring, its delicate beauty now a symbol of your surrender.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips.

A smile spread across Namjoon’s face, slow and triumphant, as he released your hand, the weight of the ring now settling fully onto your finger. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped free, his touch gentle yet possessive.

“There,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with satisfaction.

“That’s my good girl.”

"Where's my bag?" you start sharply the moment Namjoon walks in, shrugging off the coat from his so-called 'business meeting.' You were obviously not allowed to sit in because women here do not work once they have a ring on their finger. Not like you are dying to be a part of a criminal syndicate that has its roots deeply set in this society. The air between you two is thick, a palpable tension that crackles like static before a storm.

"I looked everywhere, but I cannot seem to find it—"

Successful distilleries may be carrying the Jung name, yet other family members have their own shares of the money capital of the clan, Namjoon not being an exception. His name is presented on each brandy bottle you have had the chance to pour from. But what actually lies under the façade of crystal-clear bottles of whiskey and brandy remains unknown to the upper world.

When you met Namjoon, you didn't see a crime lord. You saw a man with ambition, with a drive that matched yours. But somewhere along the line, his ambition became chains around your wrists, tying you to a life you never chose. That's when you decided that working in Anubis would be only a "college" solution before you would leave the city.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "What bag?"

"You know exactly which bag," you snap, stepping closer. Namjoon's eyes darken, his jaw tightening.

"How about we start on lunch?" he suggests, trying to ignore your pleas.

"No," you insist, voice trembling with anger. "I want my bag. I want my money."

"I thought we had settled this last night, didn't we?" he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Your blood boils at his dismissive tone. "Settled? You think you can just placate me and everything will be fine? That money is mine, Namjoon. I earned it."

He steps closer, his presence intimidating but you hold your ground. "Peaches, you ought to be my wife, what's mine is yours. You don't need that money."

You stand firm, not backing down. "Need it or not, it's mine. I worked for it, Namjoon."

Namjoon's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them. "You think you can just walk out with that money? You think you can use it to just leave?"

"No, I—" Namjoon steps forward, his eyes cold and calculating. You feel a surge of anger, your hands clenching into fists. "I earned that money, and I deserve to use it as I see fit."

"If you want to spend money, we can go shopping—" His presence overwhelming and oppressive. His words angering you even more.

"SHOPPING?! Are you fucking serious? This isn't about buying things, Namjoon. This is about my life, my choices."

Before you can continue your rambling, he grabs your wrist and pulls you close, his grip like iron. His lips crash onto yours in a bruising, dominating kiss, meant to remind you of his power over you. You struggle, but his hold is unyielding, leaving you breathless and dizzy.

"If you're gonna drop that honorific one more time—" Namjoon's eyes blaze with fury as he keeps you close, his grip almost painful.

"I won't—" you spit out, defiance still burning in your eyes despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "If you give me my money back. I have a right to it." Namjoon laughs coldly, shaking his head.

"Let's just have lunch, Peaches, before I lose my patience completely—" he says, his voice dripping with condescension. You glare at him, refusing to back down.

"Not until you give me my money back." His expression hardens, the cold amusement vanishing.

"You really want to push this, don't you?"

"Yes," you say, your voice unwavering. "Favor for favor, isn't it the mantra y'all go by?" A smirk playing on his lips when you finish the sentence.

"Everything you need, I provide." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"I worked for that money, Namjoon. I deserve to have control over it."

He steps closer again, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looks down at you. "Control? You want control? Fine," he says, his voice dripping with condescension.

"I've deposited them into an account I opened in your name, joint with mine, naturally," he says, his words carrying that same cool, possessive edge.

"What?" you gasp, your disbelief palpable. "You what?"

"I will give you your black card," he repeats, his lips curling into a taunting smile "—once you prove not to be a flight risk, baby." Namjoon tilts his head, the smirk never fading. This, in essence, means that every single transaction will be noticed. You will withdraw the money from the card—he will know. You will attempt to transfer them to a different account? He will fucking know. The implications hitting you like a gut punch. Your blood runs cold as his words sink in.

"I'm not stupid, Peaches. I know that we gotta work on our relationship." He steps even closer, his gaze intense, pinning you in place. "Let's work on that trust first, and then you can have money at your disposal."

Your heart beats in your throat, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. Trust? The word feels like a cruel joke coming from him.Trust?

"I'm not one of your assets, Namjoon," you spit out, your voice thick with defiance. "And I won't be treated like one." His towering form casting a shadow over you, and for a moment, his eyes soften, as if he's pitying you.

"You don't have a choice, baby." His tone shifts again, dripping with that same chilling calm.

"When you prove you can stay and play nice, then maybe, just maybe, I'll let you have some freedom with your own damn money." And just like that, he's already begun dictating the terms of your life again, his grip on you tighter than ever before.

The missing duffle bag with your money was among the least of your worries when you realized what else the duffle bag possessed.

"You have my passport, Namjoon, how can I run away?" Namjoon's eyes flicker, the amusement fading slightly, but his smirk doesn't falter. He's been expecting this—he always expects everything.

Namjoon's smile is slow, deliberate, almost cruel. "I've taken what I need to keep you close." Namjoon leans in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

"But I am not underestimating your spirit."

You're nauseous, the implication of his words settling over you like a weight you can't shake off. He is holding the strings to everything, but that only made you realize that you had a hell of a lot of thinking and plotting to do to get out of here. And the most intrusive thought back in your head, where you consider staying here and embracing this finally official relationship, has to go—quickly.

"So, what now?" you ask, voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. "You plan on keeping me locked up forever, Namjoon-oppa?" Namjoon only smiles, cold and confident.

"No baby. But I will keep you very close, until I can trust you." Your skin prickles where his fingers brush, but you don't pull away. You can't. The need to stay composed, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, fights against the rising tide of rage and fear in your chest.

"And what do you want me to do to earn it, Namjoon?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside you. "Beg? Crawl? Pretend everything is fine when it's not?" He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he's piecing together in real time. The silence that follows is thick with tension. He stands so close now that you can feel the heat of his body against yours.

"So, lunch it is then?"

His tone is mockingly light, but there's a sharp edge beneath it when he tries to abandon the conversation, the kind that makes you feel trapped.

The black Mercedes hums smoothly along the Bronx streets, its sleek exterior reflecting the gray clouds above. It's going to snow any day now. Inside, the air is thick with tension, an unspoken understanding between the two passengers.

You sit in the backseat, your fingers nervously gripping the edge of your dress, the smooth fabric barely registering under your touch. Your sunglasses hide the unease in your eyes, but the tightness in your chest is something you can't disguise.

Today feels different.

Namjoon sits beside you in the backseat, his gaze fixed ahead, while his hand is warm on your thigh. You are staring at your shoes. Isn't this what you wanted? To ride in an expensive car, wearing Saint Laurent pointy-toed heels? A form-fitting dress with a high neck reveals your figure subtly, and the hungry look Namjoon gave you when you stepped out of the wardrobe did not go unnoticed. Something feels different, as if you're playing dress-up. The allure of the life Namjoon offers, it all feels strangely distant.

You eye him carefully—his black turtleneck is tailored to fit perfectly, sleek and minimalistic. Over it, a black suit jacket, structured but not overly stiff, gives him a commanding presence. His black slacks match the simplicity and power of his look, polished and clean.

The cold air bites against your skin, and you instinctively pull your coat tighter around your shoulders, trying to shield yourself from the chill that seems to creep through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Thank you for letting me see my father," you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet heavy with meaning.

"You don't have to thank me—" he says quietly, his voice low, almost intimate. His gaze doesn't soften, but there's something in the way he stands, commanding yet calm, that makes your heart race. The chill of the early morning seems to deepen, pressing in on you, yet you're acutely aware of the warmth of his presence, the heat of his body just a little too close.

"I couldn't have kept you from seeing him," Namjoon continues, his tone flat, as if he's simply stating a fact.

"But keep in mind that this is a privilege—you misbehave, you won't see him." His eyes lock with yours, not with malice, but with a cold certainty that makes your heart flutter uncomfortably in your chest. The last thing you want now is to provoke him further, to find out just how far his power reaches.

"Engaged?!" disbelief and shock etched into the features of your father when you sat down at the kitchen table after you collected some of the things you wished to take with you. You nod, your heart racing.

"Yes, Dad. It just happened. I wanted you to know first." Your father's gaze shifts to Namjoon, his face a storm of emotions—anger, disbelief, worry.

"Peaches, do you know what you're doing? This man is nearly a decade older than you," he whispers your way, his voice trembling with concern.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's not that big, Dad. I know it's a lot to take in, but Namjoon and I—we're serious about this." You never knew how good you were at lying until today. Your father's eyes narrow, his gaze flicking between you and Namjoon.

"When did this relationship even happen? Is he holding you against your will?!" he demands, his tone a mix of frustration and disbelief. Your smile freezes for a moment, and you try your best not to give yourself away.

"No, Dad, that happens only in movies," you reply, attempting a light-hearted tone to deflect his suspicion. Maybe this is what Namjoon meant by earning trust.

Your father's gaze remains hard, but he doesn't push further. Instead, he turns to Namjoon, his voice cold and edged with protectiveness. "You better take care of her, Namjoon. If anything happens to her, I won't forgive you."

Namjoon smiles proudly at you, almost missing your father's harsh words. His confidence in you seems unshaken.

"You have my word," he replies simply, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, staring at the shiny peachy morganite.

You were never religious enough to step foot in a church after you were christened as a baby. Your parents were indifferent to faith, more focused on the struggles of daily life than spiritual obligations. But your now husband-to-be came from very religious kin, and he himself was a God's worshipper. Ironic enough when he managed to break the Ten Commandments before sipping his morning coffee.

His family, deeply rooted in tradition and devout faith, expected nothing less than a grand celebration steeped in religious customs. The thought of walking down an aisle, flanked by stained glass and the scent of incense, felt foreign and overwhelming.

The morning sun poured into the grand church, illuminating the ornate stained glass that depicted scenes of devotion and reverence. As you and Namjoon stepped through the heavy wooden doors, a wave of warmth enveloped you, mingling with the scent of polished wood and candle wax. It felt like stepping into another world, one where faith and family intertwined seamlessly.

You could see familiar faces sitting on the wooden benches. Kim Taehyung smirking your way when he glanced at your hand interlocked with Namjoon's. He was sitting next to Mr. Jung, whom you recognized by his mullet, and the next seat was occupied by the one and only Mrs. Jung, whom you hadn't seen for a good amount of time. There were also some faces that you did not recognize, yet they still felt familiar to you. You couldn't help but notice the way the Kims and Jungs interacted, the warmth of their bonds evident in the way they smiled, laughed, and shared stories during the prayers. Their camaraderie was infectious, and for a fleeting moment, you found yourself longing for that sense of belonging.

As the service began, the congregation settled into a peaceful quiet, the sounds of rustling papers and shifting bodies fading into the background. The priest took his place at the altar, his voice echoing through the high ceilings as he began to speak about love, commitment, and the sacred bonds of marriage. Each word resonated deeply within you, pulling at your heartstrings as you thought of your impending union. As it was explained to you, this Mass was held as the announcement of your engagement—one of many traditions they had.

Namjoon sat beside you, his presence a constant reminder of the promise you had made. You could feel his gaze on you, intense and unwavering, as if he were silently urging you to embrace this new chapter of your life. But the weight of that ring on your finger felt heavier than ever in this moment.

"Love is not merely a feeling; it's a choice," the priest's voice boomed, and you glanced at Namjoon, catching the flicker of expectation in his eyes. "It's a daily commitment to one another, a promise to uphold each other through trials and triumphs alike."

You shifted in your seat, feeling the heat of his gaze on you like a physical presence. You wondered if love really was a choice—or if, in your case, it was a bargain made under duress. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of the hold he had over your life.

This was the first time he took you out of the penthouse since the day you woke up in his bed for the first time. He simply did not trust you enough to go out in public with you just yet. Hence, his hand remained on yours in a very obsessive manner, as if you were to fly away at any moment.

The priest continued, "Marriage is a sacred bond, one that should be approached with reverence and care. It's not merely about sharing a life together but about supporting and uplifting one another, about being the anchor when the storms come." He paused, letting his words sink in.

Your mind wandered back to your father, the struggles he faced, and how Namjoon had used that vulnerability to secure your loyalty. The contrast between the priest's idealistic views on love and your reality felt stark. How could you ever find true happiness in a union that felt more like a transaction than a partnership? You were feeling heavy.

"And today," the priest announced, raising his voice slightly to draw everyone's attention, "we gather not only to worship but to celebrate the union of two souls destined to walk together."

Your breath caught in your throat, and a mix of emotions surged through you. Murmurs of congratulations rippled through the congregation, and you felt the weight of countless eyes on you, some filled with excitement, others with curiosity. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes gleaming with pride.

You could feel your cheeks flush as the reality of your situation sank in deeper. The ring on your finger felt like a shackle, the promises made a binding contract that left little room for your own desires.

"I—" you started, but the words felt stuck in your throat. "I need to go to the restroom, Namjoon."

His expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Now?" he asked, voice low enough that only you could hear, but firm enough to convey his displeasure. "We're in the middle of the service."

Namjoon hesitated, weighing your request against the backdrop of the ceremony. Finally, he released your hand but leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Make it quick, baby."

You nodded, grateful for the small bit of freedom. Your Louboutin heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing like a drumbeat in the otherwise quiet sanctuary. The sound felt amplified in your ears, a reminder of the attention you were drawing as you navigated through the rows of wooden pews. You could feel the weight of curious gazes following you, some filled with anticipation, others with judgment. It was as if the congregation sensed the tension between you and Namjoon, the unspoken power dynamics playing out in real time.

You pushed open the restroom door and stepped inside. The fluorescent lights cast a stark glare, highlighting the contrast between the serenity of the service and the storm swirling within you.

Leaning against the sink, you took a moment to catch your breath. The reflection staring back at you was a mixture of uncertainty and defiance, a girl caught between two worlds.

"Why am I still here?" you whispered to your reflection, the question echoing back at you. You thought of the life you had envisioned for yourself, one filled with love, laughter, and independence, not one governed by fear and obligation.

"I fucked up." After a few deep breaths, you steadied yourself. You needed to return before he would throw a tantrum, as he loved to do whenever you were away from him for longer than ten minutes. Paranoid bastard. You glanced at your watch and noted that only a few minutes had passed. With a resigned sigh, you turned to leave, determination flooding your veins.

As you exited the restroom, you found Namjoon leaning against the wall outside, arms crossed and an expression that mixed concern and annoyance. His posture was protective, yet the underlying tension in his demeanor sent a shiver down your spine. He pushed himself from the wall only to walk towards you, making you take a few steps back into the restroom. His eyes never left yours even when he closed the door and locked it from inside, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.

The reality of your situation pressed down on you, an oppressive weight that made it hard to breathe. He moved closer, his eyes dark and intent.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he replied when you asked him why he wasn't upstairs, his tone both soothing and authoritative.

"You know how important this day is, right? I can't have you slipping away from me."

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm fine. I just needed a moment," you insisted, but the way he watched you made it clear he wasn't convinced.

"You can be honest, Peaches," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone. "You're in a room full of people celebrating our engagement, and yet you're out here trying to escape."

His words struck a nerve, and you crossed your arms defensively. "I'm not trying to escape," you shot back, though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

"Okay," he said calmly, staring intensely into your eyes, as if he was trying to read you. A small smirk played at the corners of his lips, but the tension in the air remained thick. You did not expect him to drop the topic that quickly.

"I just needed to collect my thoughts," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay," he murmured again. He stepped closer, closing the distance between you even more, his body radiating warmth that both comforted and unsettled you. He was standing there, inches away from you, yet he was not taking any action.

"W-why are you so calm, what are you doing, Namjoon?" you asked, trying to grasp his demeanor which you yet again did not understand.

"Waiting—"

"Can we just go back to the ceremony?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. Namjoon's smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Not yet, my love," he whispered back, his voice low and husky. Namjoon's fingers traced the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "I longed to show you just who you belong to for years."

"You're fucking stunning, Peaches," he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe. Namjoon's fingers trailed down your chest, stopping just above your breasts. You felt a jolt of electricity run through your body, and you knew that you were in trouble.

"Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "We can't do this here, we're in a church." You tried to push him away.

"You are something I can sin for," he whispered back, his voice low and seductive. You tried to pull away, but Namjoon held you firm, his grip unyielding.

"Namjoon, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire and apprehension.

But Namjoon was relentless, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that left you quivering with pleasure. "You're mine, Peaches," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way."

Namjoon's lips found yours, and he kissed you with a passion that left you breathless. His tongue danced with yours, and you felt your body respond to his every touch. As you kissed, Namjoon's hand slid between your legs, and he began to caress you through your dress. You gasped softly, your body arching into his touch, trembling with the sudden pleasure.

"Namjoon," you whispered urgently, "we have to stop." Your breath hitched as he pressed you against the mirror after he lifted you onto the counter, plunging himself between your legs.

"No, we don't," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Not until I've claimed you as mine."

The church's silence seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. His fingers traced the contours of your body, exploring every curve and crevice.

"What if someone hears?" you breathed again, desperation lacing your voice.

His lips paused just above your collarbone, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. As if the universe was playing by his rules, the choir started to sing. He chuckled.

"You're mine, Peaches. I won't let anyone take you away from me—not today, not ever." He captured your lips again, his kiss deepening with a fervor that ignited every nerve ending in your body.

His hands were exploring the curves of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress higher as he pressed you firmly against the cold surface of the counter.

"Namjoon," you breathed, a mix of excitement and fear knotting in your stomach. "We can't…" you continued your protests.

"But we will." His fingers danced dangerously close to your most sensitive spots, teasing you with the promise of pleasure. You felt your resolve begin to crumble under his touch.

"I've waited too long for this," he murmured, voice a velvet whisper that wrapped around you like a lover's embrace.

"Namjoon," you gasped against his lips, torn between the heady rush of desire and the urgent need to pull back. But with each kiss, each exploration of his hands, your inhibitions began to melt away, surrendering to the intoxicating pull he had over you.

"Just let go," he urged, a soft growl escaping his lips as he pressed his body into yours, making you acutely aware of the hard length that pressed against your core.

"Trust me."

A wild, reckless part of you craved this intimacy, this connection that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Your mind took you back to all those moments you shared that made your heart flutter and belly tight when you did not know why he made you feel that way.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, the weight of your reality pressing heavily on your conscience. His fingers found their way beneath your dress, inching higher until they brushed against your most sensitive skin. You gasped, arching your back involuntarily as pleasure surged through you, igniting a fire in your belly.

"Namjoon!" you cried out, a mixture of pleasure and panic lacing your voice.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck as he continued his teasing exploration. With a deft motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside as if they were nothing more than an afterthought. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, heightening your senses and making your breath hitch in your throat.

The air in the restroom felt thick with anticipation, each breath you took mingling with the scent of sandalwood and the faint musk of his skin.

“You’re breath-taking,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire.

His fingertips traced closer to where you needed him most, teasing you with the lightest of touches. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan that threatened to escape, the heat pooling deep within you almost overwhelming.

“Namjoon…” you whispered, half warning, half plea, torn between your desire for him and the reality of your surroundings.

“—and so wet for me.” He breathed against your skin, his breath sending sparks dancing along your nerves. His tongue danced with yours, a heated exploration that deepened your need for him. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you and the intoxicating chemistry that crackled between your bodies.

His fingers pressed against you, expertly coaxing soft moans from your lips as he slid one finger inside, filling you completely. You bit down on your lip to stifle your cries, but the pleasure was overwhelming, radiating out from the point of contact and pooling low in your stomach.

His eyes sparkled with a predatory intensity, relishing in your reaction. He watched you as if he were savouring a fine wine, taking his time to appreciate every detail of your response.

“Namjoon,” you gasped, your voice a fragile whisper, barely able to maintain any semblance of restraint.

“Oppa.” He growled. The way he said it—deep, possessive—made your heart race faster, each beat echoing in the stillness of the restroom. Namjoon’s fingers moved with a deliberate rhythm, curling inside you in a way that sent your mind spiralling.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded, his tone a mix of sultry and demanding, eyes never leaving yours as he watched you unravel under his touch.

You hesitated for a moment, your breath coming in quick gasps as pleasure washed over you. “It feels… amazing,” you managed to whisper, the confession slipping past your lips like a sweet secret. You can regret this later.

“Good,” he murmured, the smirk on his face growing wider. “I want to hear every sound you make.”

His fingers moved faster, building the tension to a near unbearable level, each thrust sending you closer to the brink. The world around you faded completely, leaving just the two of you entwined in this stolen moment of passion, lost in the depths of one another.

“Namjoon. I can’t—” his hand smacked your ass and he deliberately slowed down.

“It’s oppa for you. Don’t make me repeat it again.”

The playful sting of his hand against your skin sent a rush of warmth coursing through you, mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly. His voice was firm, but beneath that authority was a hint of something deeper—a promise that ignited a wild excitement within you.

“Oppa,” you whispered breathlessly, the word slipping from your lips like a spell meant just for him.

He smiled, satisfied, and resumed his movements, fingers working expertly inside you again. The pressure built anew, the delightful tension sending electric shocks through your body.

“Good girl,” he praised, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to hear you, Peaches. Let me know how much you need me.”

With that, he quickened his pace, thrusting his fingers deeper, curling them just right. The overwhelming pleasure began to blur the edges of your consciousness, leaving only the sensations that centred on where he was buried within you. The heat intensified, building towards a sweet, dizzying peak, and you couldn’t help but surrender to it.

With a final flick of his fingers, he found that sweet spot inside you, driving you wild. Your body responded in kind, the sensations intertwining with your every thought. You could feel the tightening in your core, the unmistakable signal that you were teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Namjoon-oppa, I—” you gasped, words failing you as the pleasure escalated.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he murmured, his voice deep and soothing, anchoring you in the moment. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, swallowing your cries as the waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

"Oppa!" you cried against his mouth, unable to contain the raw need bursting forth from within. Your body trembled, the climax washing over you in a torrent of sensations, enveloping you completely as you surrendered to the bliss. The choir's distant hymns created an almost surreal backdrop to this heated encounter, mixing innocence with your burgeoning desire.

As the pleasure receded, leaving you breathless and dazed, Namjoon held you close, his arms encircling you like a protective cocoon. You leaned into him, heart racing and body tingling, reveling in the aftershocks of your release.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" he teased, his voice low and playful, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. "To be mine."

Your blurry eyes lifted to look at him, taking him in while you were still panting from the rollercoaster of emotions he made you feel. Flickering down to his bulge covered by the fabric of his black suit pants from Ralph Lauren, your breath hitched again. Enough for him to move his hands to his belt, being absolutely ready to take you. Finally free of his belt, he pulled down his zipper. The fabric of his pants fell open, revealing the outline of his desire, bold and unmistakable.

The urgency of the moment wrapped around you like a tight embrace, making it hard to think straight. You glanced around, the restroom feeling impossibly small, every sound amplified.

"Oppa, please…" you breathed, your heart racing as you tried to pull away, but the undeniable hunger in his gaze anchored you in place. You could see the determination etched on his face, the way his jaw tightened with lust. He had a plan, and it made your pulse quicken. You were not sure what you were begging for—to stop or to continue?

If not for the soft knock on the door, he would have taken you right there, on the church's restroom counter. It jolted you both, pulling you back to the reality of your surroundings. A rush of panic surged through you, and you instinctively glanced around the cramped restroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Oppa," you whispered again, this time a plea laced with desire and uncertainty.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Just a little longer," he promised, his fingers finding their way back to your thighs, gripping you tightly as if to keep you anchored to the moment.

"Just one more time," he urged, his voice thick with need. "I need to feel you—"

"Hyung, I know you will kill me for this, but you need to come back upstairs." The voice—familiar and insistent—cut through the haze of desire that had enveloped you both.

Namjoon's expression flickered from lust to annoyance, his grip on you tightening slightly as if to remind you that this moment was still theirs, even if the world outside was intruding.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable. The intensity in his gaze shifted, but it didn't fade. Instead, it turned into something more predatory, a simmering heat that promised this wasn't over.

"We'll be right there!" He shouted back to the voice behind the door. His eyes slowly returned to watch you and your disheveled form after he fingered the fuck out of you.

He leaned in, his lips capturing yours once more, and it felt like time stood still. The world around you blurred, and for that moment, it was just the two of you—lost in a whirlwind of passion that defied the reality waiting outside the door.

His forehead remained pressed on yours when he whispered to your lips. “Next time, we won’t be so rushed, I promise.” Pecking your lips, he quickly pulled his pants back up, securing his belt with a swift motion, yet the heat of the moment lingered between you both.

The calm shattered in an instant.

The heavy church door burst open with a deafening crash. Armed men in tactical gear stormed in with raised weapons, their shouts filling the air. Namjoon immediately pushed you behind him, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene with deadly focus.

The thunderous crack of gunfire echoed off the stone walls as the air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder. Namjoon drew a gun from beneath his jacket—like several other family men in attendance—his movements swift and practiced. He returned fire, the muzzle flash illuminating his determined face in bursts of light.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a drum of terror and adrenaline. Huddled behind an overturned pew, you clutched your ears against the deafening noise, eyes wide with shock and fear. Namjoon, breathing heavily, scanned the room one final time before turning to you, his eyes softening for a moment.

"Stay down!" he shouted, his voice barely audible above the chaos.

"Jungkook, get them out!" Namjoon barked, his eyes fixed on the fight.

He reached your side, pulling you up by the arm. Jungkook's grip was firm yet reassuring.

"Come on," he urged, his voice a steady anchor amid the storm of violence. He led you through the chaos, his body shielding you from the worst of the gunfire.

Just as you neared the side door, a sharp pain exploded in your side. You stumbled, a cry of agony escaping your lips. The world seemed to slow, the sounds of battle muffled by the roaring in your ears. Looking down, you saw blood spreading across your dress, the pain intensifying with each heartbeat.

"Peaches!"

.

.

.

.

.

𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: @hecateslittlewitchling - @ratprincessnr1 - @originalbiscuitfiredreamer - @mggv97 - @urlovelily - @ilys00ga - @beautifulcloudfestival - @herareila @mar-lo-pap

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

see you next time, love, p.

[skiiyoomin]

Can you make Kenma,Oikawa, Hinata, Sugawara, Nishinoya, Akaashi with a sub! Girlfriend that has a personality that remembers a Golden Retriever?? (Can it be NSFW?)

ღHq boys with a sub!golden retriever gf

ʚft: Kenma, Oikawa, Hinata, Suga, Nishinoya, Akaashi

ʚCont: SMUT CONTENT, fem!reader, fingering, slight corruption kink, mirror sex, use of good girl, riding, oral sex

⤑Back to navigation

a/n i think i outdid myself with this one 😁

Kenma

There is a clear difference between your personalities. He´s passive and calm whereas you´re always a bundle of energy. Many joke you have all the energy Kenma doesn't. And that fact proves right in moments like these.

He was slumped on the couch when you skipped into the living room. Your eyes darted to his hands holding the controller. His long fingers were moving across the buttons with a speed only a chronic video game player had. A flash of thoughts that were anything but holy crossed your mind. They were pushed back almost immediately.

They were hard to ignore now that those same fingers were pumping up into your dripping cunt. Your hips moved on their own, rolling instinctively to find the same spot that had your head throwing back with whiny moans. The clutch your fisted hands had on his shirt tightened when you bounced on his fingers, riding them like you would with his cock. "ken mmgh fuck m´ tired" He wasn´t sure if his actions were out of sympathy or torture, but his free hand gripped your hip to stop their movement. His other hand, drenched in your juices, moved upwards at a fast pace, curling inwards to hit the plushness of your g-spot. "tired? already? well, I suppose I´ll help" Though he didn´t seem to mind with how hard he was in that moment, his erection begging to be freed from its restraints. The fast pace of his fingers brought your orgasm closer than you thought. Your mind blanked, body shaking as your walls clamped down on his fingers, imprisoning them inside your warmth.

His lips on your face landed you back from cloud 9. "such a good girl, wanna keep doing a good job for me and make me feel good?" He murmurs against your skin, to which you nod without hesitation.

Oikawa

Oikawa absolutely adoresss you. You´re his little puppy, his sweet innocent baby girl. He dies and revives every single time your doe eyes stare up at him with those bright irises. They shoot straight to his heart, tightening in his chest to the point where his breath is lost in the air. He doesn´t know what he´d do without his pretty girl. He could spend countless hours naming all the things he loves about you. But he was certain that what he loves most, is your willingness to please him. Like a puppy does with its owner.

Deep down, it isn´t just for the simple innocent reasons one may imagine. Your willingness to please applies to the bedroom too. And there was nothing that turns him on more than to have you on all fours, ramming his cock into your abused hole for hours on end.

Tears were falling down your pretty eyes, your back setting into a mean arch the longer you stayed in that position. Even then, your breathy shaky voice asked "m´ i making you feel good?" Call it a possible corruption kink, but seeing your head lifting to meet his gaze from the back with those teary doe eyes, your lips pouty as you concern yourself more over his pleasure than your own, god that just makes his dick harder than ever.

If anything, it keeps his cock pounding into you relentlessly, forcing orgasm after orgasm from you, all just to see you with that same look in your eyes. Yeah, he definitely has a corruption kink.

Hinata

You´re both bundles of sunshine. Your relationship is as radiant as the sun, a constant source of joy in each others lives. You´re both the same golden retriever energy and anyone can see that from a 20 mile radius. In terms of dominance, well, it´s hard to say. Or at least, that´s how it is for anyone outside the relationship. However between you two? It´s pretty clear.

The sight in front of you is sinful really. No porno you had ever watched was as erotic as this. Hinata is sitting on the edge of the bed with you sitting snuggly on his lap, your back pressed against his toned chest. You´re convinced you´d have bruises on your hips the next morning from how tight he was gripping them. Though your focus in that moment is on the dirty view from the mirror of your tight hole getting stretched open by his thick cock. While Hinata is setting the pace and keeping you balanced, you´re tasked to hold your legs wide open with your hands under your knees, giving you the perfect view of his cock connecting with your cunt.

As much as you wanted to throw your head back on his shoulder from the painful pleasure, you couldn´t look away from the sight. The way your puffy lips parted in an accomodating motion for his dick to pound up into you relentlessly is an addicting sight you can´t get enough of. The fast pace is dizzying along with the view of his fluids mixing with yours and coating his cock like a second skin. His pace sped up even more, though you hadn´t thought that was possible, when your impending orgasm resulted in the clenching of your gummy walls. "hold on f´me sweet girl, can you do that?" He asks sweetly into your ear despite the vicious pace of his tip kissing your cervix. "mhmm" Is all you can manage to say. "good girl"

Sugawara

Suga is often seen as the sweet calm boyfriend whereas you´re the energetic girlfriend whose always bouncing around with energy. It´s a balance that makes the relationship work very well. But what nobody expects is the 180 Suga does in bed.

A foot is balanced on his shoulder, his hands wrapped around the plushness of the back of your thighs. Suga loves this more than anything else. When your body goes limp from the pleasure, reducing all that energetic behaviour that you had before to nothing. You never resist him, no, instead you encourage him to keep going. To keep stretching your body into positions you didn´t think were possible. To keep your walls continuously stroking his cock, pulling countless orgasms out of you until you had nothing left to give. And even then, you keep your legs spread wide open like the good little thing that you are.

He groans into your ear "fuck. You like that? like how good my cock is making you feel?" He growls into your ear. One hand moves to rub your swollen clit, intensifying the pleasure. The result of your moans urged his ruthless pace to quicken. He chuckles breathlessly. "can´t even speak. am I fucking my baby dumb? Is that it?" The mocking tone of his voice was far more arousing than you thought and he knew it. How could he not when your walls were clenching so tightly around his aching member?

"wanna loosen up for me baby girl? I can´t make you cum if you´re squeezin so tight" He smirks "Yeaah that´s it, good fucking girl" He says in that low raspy voice you love so much. You´re in for a looong night.

Nishinoya

You´re both equally energetic. His energy rubs off on you and yours rubs off on him. You two together is utter chaos in the best way possible. Though when it comes to dominance, Noya is always sure to prove he´s the dominant one. Not like you mind anyway.

It´s movie night and of course, one thing leads to another. Now you´re on Noyas lap with his cock fucking up into you. If this isn´t heaven, Noya wasn´t sure what is. You´re always so eager to take him, to be fucked into submission. He groans lowly when you squeeze particularly hard. His eyes trail from your pussy to the swell of your breasts that bounce every time he thrusts up into you, his grip on your hips controlling the pace. The sight is so enticing, so breath taking that he can´t resist getting a taste. His mouth latches onto oneperky nipple while his fingers play with the other, giving them equal attention.

"aaah ngh noya" You moan, the sounds like music to his ears. His mouth latches off your breasts with a pop. "hmm? is my baby girl feeling good?" You whine, trying to speed up the pace. His gaze darkens with a primal lust. His feet plant on the floor and with a sudden boost of energy, he fucks your hole with a roughness he had never used before. He has no time to worry if he´s being too rough, becuase you´re instantly arching your back into a mean curve and throwing your head back. It´s overwhelming, the intense pleasure, the throbbing of your cunt the more he keeps his cock inside you.

A loud smack resonantes across the room, a gasp following it afterwards. The sting from his slap on your ass strangely adds to the pleasure, making your cunt throb more. He seems to sense this as well because he does it again and again. By the end of that night, the skin of your ass was a painful tomato red. Though you can´t stay mad at him when he fucks you so good.

Akaashi

Akaashi seems to attract the most energetic people ever. First it was Bokuto, now it´s you. He doesn´t complain one bit though. He adores you so much and makes you feel so loved too. He especially loves showing his love for you through intimate acts. It´s too tempting for him after all. When you´re always so greedy to please him and make him happy. Or especially when you´re so submissive for him. You trust him blindly and know he takes good care of you and nothing can ever make him more turned on than that.

Like now, he´s laying on his stomach on the bed. The thickness of your thighs are wrapped around his head, pulling him closer to your aching core. This was the thing he loves most. Worshipping your body over and over like you´re a goddess and he´s your most faithful worshipper. A shiver crawls down your spine when his warm breath tickles your bare skin, coming in contact with your heat. You gasp when his warm tongue slips out and licks along your slit until it hooks on your clit. Akaashi is a patient man, but even his own patience wears thin under the temptation of ravishing you whole.

He wastes no time in wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking the bundle gently while slipping a finger inside. One finger turns into two, then three. Soon enough his fingers are thrusting into you while he continues to busy his mouth with your clit. It´s not long before your body shakes from the force of a mind blowing orgasm.

He doesn´t wait a single second. Your legs are forced to spread open, giving him space to slip his tongue into your sensitive hole. You whine and squirm from the overstimulation. "aaah kashi" Said man lifts his head up, your juices smeared all over his chin and lips. They press wet kisses to your inner thighs while looking up at your flushed face. "you know the safe word, don´t you darling?" You nod meekly under his intense gaze. He smirks "good" Is all he says before going back to fucking your throbbing hole like a starved man having his last meal on earth.