#but it's called a sugar baby au people what did you EXPECT

[liz-allyn]

love on the brain: sugar & vice, vol 2 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!OC]

summary: You didn’t think it was going to be easy, did you? AKA The night Peter and Honey reunited—Four. Months. Later. [mob!peter parker x oc!MJ] 

words: 11.8k (omfg)

NSFW/MINORS DNI - ABANDON ALL CHASTITY, YE WHO ENTER HERE (detailed warnings below)

extended warnings (spoilers): p^rn with plot, detailed smut, really just... filthy and deranged. slightly dubcon parts (although consent is clearly confirmed), no Y/N...ever, arguing, anger, jealousy, physical violence (slapping, scratching, throwing objects), almost hate sex, fem!reader with a vagina and breasts and wears a dress, oral (f! receiving), P in V, rough!dom Peter, sub!reader, possessive!peter, mirrors, titty!worship, shame and slight degradation, use of emojis, f! being restrained, discussion of masturbation, slight breeding kink, non-consensual voyeurism, moderate BDSM kink, “punishment” play (spanking, edging) bratty reader, peter parker being a dunce around women, mob!au, furniture harmed in the making of this

names used: daddy, princess, baby, babygirl

A/N: This is a one-shot standalone story that takes place immediately after the Epilogue of Vol 1. And serves as the official beginning of Vol. 2. If you haven’t read Vol.1, you really should. The main OC is AFAB and goes by the name “Honey.” You’ll need to read Vol. 1 to know why.  I try to be loose with my descriptions for people who prefer a Reader-Insert. But I’m not perfect. In this canon, Honey has a Latina heritage (as do I). Take that as you will. Thanks to @moonyslove78 and @blooming-violets for cheering me on through this very long hiatus. 

This is 18+ AF. And if you think the term ‘AF’ shows how old and out of touch you are, then you’re probably not old enough to read this.

This version of TASM Peter Parker is not canon. The relationships here are not healthy and the characters need therapy. Don’t date a mob boss IRL.

#1 - Love on the Brain

>>> heya boss. how’s your trip? 😜

Peter arched a brow as he peeked down at the text message.

>>> ⋯ >>> your trip to pound town? 🍆🍑 

He rolled his eyes, swallowing back an irritated snort.

Real mature, Felicia. 

He almost tapped out a haughty reply but stopped. Corners of his mouth turned down, he found himself unable to respond.

“So many choices. I just don’t know what I want.”

An understatement.

The girl of his dreams sat across from him in the quaint East Harlem Cuban restaurant. They were crammed together at a bistro table near the kitchen. The enormous menu took up the entire surface, and she had spent the last 25 minutes reading the items aloud. 

It was nearly 11 p.m., and they had yet to pick an appetizer. 

The woman he’d called ‘his Honey’ sweetly sighed with a shrug. “Now that we’re here, I just can’t make up my mind.” 

Her voice had a singsong tune to it, purposefully careless. Blissfully ignorant of the fact that Peter was starving.

“Maybe I’m just not feeling Cuban food tonight,” she shrugged, nonchalant.

Peter swallowed hard. Tried to rid his expression of any hint of impatience or irritation. 

“Oh,” he remarked delicately, thinking of all the different dinner reservations he’d made for tonight. It didn’t matter what magazine talked it up, didn’t matter how many “tire awards” it had won. 

Honey was unimpressed. 

“M’surprised,” he said, as emotionlessly as possible. “Thought you had your heart set on this place.”

The place was one of those hole-in-the-wall joints that had less than 10 tables, which made takeout the most popular choice. 

On this night however—a Tuesday— the restaurant was nearly empty, except for the overdressed couple and the loathsome kitchen staff, who didn’t expect to be subject to “este cabrón” and his picky girlfriend strolling in 30 minutes before closing. 

While Peter could feel the heat of their ire over the oven, Honey avoided it. She explained to the manager that Peter was “un ricacho que tiene demasiado dinero.” And with that, they were seated.

When Peter approached her earlier that afternoon in the park, he’d expected a much worse welcome. He nearly died of a panic attack when he spotted her on the park bench. It had been four long months since he’d attempted to communicate with her, and he half-expected her to throw her iced coffee in his face. 

Actually, he had no idea what to expect from her. Terrifyingly.

Peter had lamented to Felicia— “There’s no card that says, ‘Sorry, I ghosted you for a few months while attempting to shake the heat off my back.’ Which flowers say, ‘I apologize that the last conversation we had, I called you a whore in front of a room full of cops’?”

The true challenge came when Peter actually looked into her eyes. He didn’t expect that one look would render him useless. 

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Ethereal. Glowing. The human equivalent of a bouquet of sunflowers, with happy round cheeks and her hair tied back in a ponytail. She was the color of rainbows, and summer, and sunshine. She was the cherries of her red lip stain and the golden rays of her yellow linen sundress.

God, that dress. 

Peter planned for everything—but not that dress. 

His carefully rehearsed speech went out the window when he saw her in that dress: a cotton ruched-waist, tea-length gown in a yellow gingham pattern. It featured a sweetheart neckline that cradled her breasts perfectly between the halter tie-back straps. 

He had no idea where that dress came from, but it was the most perfect piece of fabric ever to grace a woman’s body. He would buy her twelve more of them, no matter the cost. He’d buy every last one.

He’d give her the sun, the ocean, Hawai’i, and all the stars in the sky— if only she’d forgive him. He was ready to throw himself on a bed of hot coals as long as it meant that she would take him back. If she would come back home.

Truthfully, he needed her to come home.

Not to get ahead of himself, he started by taking her to dinner. 

That was Felicia’s advice—women love dinner. solves everything. the fancier, the better, with lots of red meat—u know how they say food is the way to a man’s heart? dinner is the way to the ovaries. works every time.

Actually, Felicia gave Peter lots of advice. For once, he was more than grateful to accept it. 

>>> make her feel like you can’t take your eyes off her. but don’t stare. like a creeper  >>> be a gentleman, but not a pushover. you wanna be the good guy. soft YA novel boyfriend type

Followed quickly by—

>>> but not too soft! don’t be a little bitch. if she plays hard to get, you play offense.  >>> and defense.

Peter had no idea what she was talking about. But he knew when it was wise to trust the advice of more intelligent creatures than men.

Five restaurants later...

“I thought going to dinner was your idea?” Honey asked with pursed lips.

“It was; it was my idea,” he nervously replied. “Six hours ago—it was my idea.”

She narrowed her eyes to slits. “Hmm. Six hours. Long time to wait.” Her eyes fell down to the menu again. Her lack-of-sympathy said everything.

Peter’s pocket buzzed again, and he glanced down at the incoming text message from Felicia.

>>> ...???? 

He rolled his eyes. Tapped out a response.

<<< Not great.

“Am I interrupting something?” Honey asked with a clipped tone.

Peter jumped, pocketing his phone immediately. “No, just... just something... silly,” he muttered. “How ‘bout we get a few plates in, yeah? I’m gonna just order some stuff—”

“Like what?” she questioned skeptically.

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, his stomach twisting. “One of everything.”

“That’s wasteful,” Honey said, judgment sharpening her gaze. “Food waste is bad enough as it is in this city.”

“Well, at this point,” he snapped with an exasperated sigh, “I might be able to eat two of everything.” The words floated away from him, and he bit the inside of his cheek, wishing they would come back. Hesitantly, he made eye contact with Honey.

She peered at him disgustedly from over the top of her menu. She scoffed, crossing one leg over the other, and dropped the leather-bound book closed. 

“Don’t let me slow you down,” Honey said icily. “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

Peter’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. His pocket buzzed again. 

>>> the fuck? what do you mean?  >>> she was in love with you b4... how hard can it be to take her on a date?  >>> christ. did you fuck this up, parker?

He shoved the phone back in his jacket, nearly punching through the silk fabric. 

“If I’m wasting your time, tell me,” Honey sharply retorted. She crossed her arms even tighter across her chest. He had to force himself to look away from the way it plumped her breasts together. “I’d hate to keep you from something important.”

Felicia was right. He was fucking this up. Before he could open his mouth—

“Excuse me, señorita,” a masculine, smoky voice crooned at them. 

Peter and Honey glanced up to see a chiseled man in his 30s approach the table with a hurricane glass of ice. He was a specimen of Latin American art—a bronzed statue, with carved muscles that bulged out of his floral shirt. Deep brown eyes—no, hazel eyes— fixed on Honey as he reached across the table with rolled-back sleeves. The corded muscles in his arm, toned by long hours of hard labor, flexed gracefully as he gently set a cocktail in front of her. 

A frosted, colorless liquid speckled with crushed mint leaves filled the glass. Honey blinked with delighted surprise.

“Our compliments,” the young, disgustingly attractive waiter explained with a sultry smile and a thick accent. “In case you found yourself thirsty while browsing the menu.” 

A blush colored her skin as she glanced up at their handsome waiter. The sparkle in her smile was as blinding as ever, and she graciously looked back between the glass and the server.  The waiter— no way in hell this fuckin’ guy is a waiter— beamed back at her, enamored. 

“Oh, wow!” she gasped, reaching for the glass with dainty fingers. “Is this a mojito? That’s my favorite! How did you know?”

The waiter graciously chuckled. “Lucky guess. You look like a woman of refined taste.”

Peter felt his blood pressure rising.

Honey didn’t even look at her date, as if he was suddenly invisible. “Thank you,” she grinned, self-satisfied. “I mean, I do know my way around a Bacardi bottle.” The waiter chuckled, maybe too hard, at her silly joke.

“We want you to enjoy your evening with us,” the waiter added politely, sparing Peter a glance but keeping all his attention on Honey. “We are honored to have you as our guest.” 

The waiter spoke gentlemanly as he splayed his long fingers across his chest. “Please, take as much time as you need. No need to feel rushed. It is my pleasure to serve you.” 

Peter could feel a twitch behind his eye. Could have been the fire shooting out of his eyes. Fuck this prick, probably another Broadway reject or somethin’, couldn’t buy himself a decent shirt—His mind churned along with his anger.

Oblivious, Honey beamed up at him with a golden smile. “Thank you so much for saying that,” she replied, endearingly sweet. “You are too kind, um... I’m sorry, what was your name again?” 

“Pedro.”

Honey’s brows shot to her hairline. “Pedro?” she repeated, absolutely delighted. She glanced over at Peter. “Isn’t that something?”

The mob boss’ lip curled mirthlessly. “Oh, it’s somethin,’ alright.” 

Peter continued to burn his stare—fuck his stupid accent— into the side of the aloof waiter’s head. He wondered if Pedro’s handsome, chiseled jawline was sharp enough to cut through a noose.

Buzz..

>>> you’re keepin’ your cool, right?  >>> remember what i said.  >>> anything she wants. no questions asked! >>> don’t get all crazy possessive either

The joyful sound of her laughter ripped his attention away from his phone and back towards his charmed date. 

“Pedro,” she sweetly preened. “Can you give us a recommendation?” She briefly flashed her eyes at Peter before looking back at her new friend. “My date’s clearly distracted. He has no idea what I like.” 

Oh? Peter raised a brow at that. And lost his appetite.

Peter followed Honey down the hallway to his hotel suite while storm clouds swirled in his gut. Lighting crackled with each footfall. Tension clogged the atmosphere, and they shuffled in a silent fog to the door.

Despite Felicia’s advice about controlling his inner beasts, Peter’s hackles were raised, and his stomach growled. Now, he was hungry for more than just food. And simultaneously, he’d never felt so powerless. 

Peter noted how tightly she wrapped her arms around herself. Her face suggested she was deep in thought. He wondered if she was just as tightly wound as he was. Wondered if she could break his heart with just a look.

He was flailing. Pathetic.

Peter’s fist clenched his keycard tight. He had to be careful not to snap the card in half between his fingers. Was it from excitement or terror? Desire or rage? 

He had to focus, to make this work. He had nothing if he didn’t have her. 

Rigidly, Peter pushed the door open and stood to the side of the frame to let her enter. 

She paused briefly, lips tight, as she gazed into the rotunda entryway of the lavish suite. They hadn’t spoken in the car, and he hadn’t had the chance to explain the location. 

Letting out a steady breath, she strode through the threshold and stopped. Her body blocked the doorway. She turned to look up at Peter, defiant eyes flashing.

“This is as far as you go.” 

Peter blinked, looking at her in confusion.

Her tone was curt. Icy. He recognized that sound. It was the tone of voice she used when she wanted to draw blood, and it never failed to inflict pain. Her voice. Her eyes. Even her tongue was razor-sharp.

Peter curled a brow upwards. “Sorry?” 

Honey narrowed her eyes. “Not yet, you’re not.” 

He took a step back, blinking owlishly. 

“What did you think was going to happen tonight, Peter?” The ire of Honey’s question sliced through him. “Did you think you were gonna shave your face, take me to a fancy dinner, and then I’d just... open my legs for you?”

A literal ellipsis formed in his mind. 

Peter swallowed hard. “Uhhh—?”

“‘I’ll wait for forever, Honey,’ she parroted his earlier admission mockingly. “Is that all you have to say to me? You left me! For four months!”

Peter nodded his head, not sure exactly why or when he began. “I know, I know...”

“You know!?”

The walls of etiquette and politeness between them began to crack.

“How many times I gotta tell ya? I was tryin’ to protect ya, Honey—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

It stung like a snake bite. Rage filled her eyes, disdain bubbling out of her mouth. She had only just begun. 

“You buy me all this expensive bullshit!” she scolded. “And you dress up in your ridiculous designer suits and parade me to all these fucking pretentious places! Like I’m some kind of accessory! Like you own the whole fucking city and everyone in it!”

He replied with a string of noises. Or, at least, he thought so.

“Big bad mob boss—all that power—and yet, you couldn’t just talk to me? You had me wait around for you like a stray dog! You can just come and go as you please, but you—you expect me to follow you around on a leash?”

“Honey, please. Let me explain—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Peter!” her voice echoed through the rotunda and down the hall of the hotel. “I don’t want to hear a single one of your lame excuses! I don’t want a fancy dinner, or a new Porsche, or a mansion, or whatever else makes your dick hard!”

Peter blinked rapidly, stunned. His body responded as if she had just kicked him in the place she referenced, “Jus’lemme—”

“And I sure as hell don’t want another apology!” she asserted definitively. “I don’t want you anywhere near me!” 

Peter’s jaw hung open, tongue dead in his mouth. The woman who barely stood at his collarbone stared down at him, making him feel inches tall. 

“Now, I’m going to bed. Exactly as I have been for the last four months.” Her voice thundered, “Alone!”

With that, the door slammed in his face, rattling inches from his nose. The echo reverberated through the empty hallway and inside his chest, emphasizing the deep crack that formed.

Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The shock subsided slowly, and his heart sank. The ache soon sizzled into a burn, boiling his blood. At the same time, the sting of her rejection was raw. Unbearable.

Unbelievable.

Absolutely unacceptable. 

He should break down the fucking door. Throw her over his shoulder and tie her up. Gag her—Anything to get her to listen.

Haplessly, Peter’s eyes fell on his expensive shoes—his Valentinos. Or maybe these were the Tom Ford’s? He had no clue. Just more bullshit.

Fuck—He was going to cry. Maybe he should let himself just do it. Lean into it. Drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Shoulders slumped, he squeezed his eyes closed. 

He was a little bitch.

Peter pictured a door closing on a rocket or an airplane. Whatever it was, it was leaving him behind. He was falling back to Earth, having placed too much faith in miracles. This was his punishment for flying that close to the sun—

The door swung open. 

Two hands grabbed Peter’s jacket, pulling him forward off his heels. It was a surprisingly fluid motion; his heartbreak had reduced the mass of his bones to nothing. 

Honey’s nails practically pierced his lapels. She yanked him through the doorway into the suite, slamming the door behind him, and slamming him into the door right after.

Before Peter could open his mouth to speak, she was on him like a viper.

A sharp, biting kiss swallowed him whole, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. The heat was as intense as he had remembered. This time, they didn’t melt into one another. Honey was like a wildfire, her touch scalding him. 

His skin flushed from the sudden unbearable heat. Before he could react, her lithe fingers started tugging the edges of his jacket. Clumsily, she tried pushing it back over his broad shoulders. As soon as he knew of her intent, he eagerly obliged, shrugging the garment off and to the floor. 

Her hands went to his throat, ebony-painted nails leaving trails on his skin. Buttons popped as she yanked on his clothes. Her goal could have been to draw blood with her kiss.

Every time her teeth tore at his lips, he responded with a groan into her mouth.

Clumsy, he fumbled with his fingers—reaching up to grip her by the hair. Finally, he wrenched her head back, detaching her bite from his face.

Immediately, he was met with an open-palmed slap on the cheek.

Sharp gasps cut through them, and they jumped backward a few feet. Tension and shock reverberated in the chasm they created. Like the barometric pressure plunging before a storm, an eerie calm settled over them. 

Honey blinked at him, jaw agape and her palm throbbing. 

Peter glared at her in silence. He looked a mess—hair unkempt, the top buttons of his shirt torn open to reveal jagged crimson scratch marks across his milky skin.

His heartbeat steadily increased as he gently dabbed his fingertips at the ache in his jaw. The exquisite lines of his face were stained pastel pink, flushed by arousal or anger. His eyes were black as night, so it could have been either one.

She looked just as wrecked. Dress askew, her hairstyle half-unraveled. Goosebumps dotted her skin. She looked shocked at the violence she was capable of, surprised and possibly guilty at her own strength. As the seconds passed, the feelings faded.

Peter watched her, pupils dilating, blood pressure rising. The shadow of a smile curved his mouth. His features darkened into something primal. Something familiar.

There’s my girl.

Slowly, he lowered his hand, studying her threatening look until his own expression began to match.

Physically, his senses were haywire. Danger, excitement, and a sick sort of pleasure rattled his bones and labored his breathing. The hairs on his skin stood on end. Alarms blared in his head. The sound of his own blood was almost deafening to him, thumping like a kick drum. 

Peter could hear her heart, too. Fast. Like a rabbit. He was a wolf in pursuit. 

Maybe the pain of her slap triggered him, a preemptive action against further attack.

She got one in, Peter mused mockingly. He knew she was no match. Not as Peter’s night vision sharpened. Not while he could taste the salt from her perspiration on his tongue. Most intoxicating of all, Peter could smell her desire. Like a rose bursting open.

In another blink, they switched positions. Peter snatched her by her shoulders and slammed her back into the wall, pinning her there. She went feral—hissing and raging at her entrapment.

Not a rabbit. A honey badger, then.

“Get off of me!” Honey spat.

“Shut up,” he ordered. Quiet and fierce.

Fingers gripping her forearms tight, he attacked her lips, teeth colliding. The ferocity stunned her. For a moment, it seemed like she finally submitted to him before she wriggled her mouth free.

“Mmffucker—Let me go!”

His body might as well have been a brick wall. His face was stonelike, eyes just as cold. 

“No.” 

Honey’s brow scrunched up like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “I’ll scream!” she countered.

Peter smirked, the hickory in his eyes igniting. “Baby. You have no idea.”

Peter’s guarantee sent a shiver down Honey’s spine. He saw the gears turning in her mind as she carefully considered pushing him further. 

He hoped she would. 

His fingers tightened around her forearms. He crucified her under his gaze. And yet, despite the danger anyone else would have felt... A glimmer of curiosity flickered in her eyes.

It set his mind reeling. A tiny sign of weakness to temptation made Peter’s stomach trapeze. He zeroed in on it, licking his chops. 

Not to make it easy, Honey brought her knee up, attempting to make contact with his groin. There was nearly a foot of difference between their heights, and she paid it no mind.

Brave girl. 

Peter admired her tenacity. She had balls. Smart, too, he pleasantly recognized. Honey went for the weak spot first. Good call. 

Pointless, though. 

Nothing below Peter’s belt was weak when she was around.

Unfairly, Peter picked up on her attack before her leg was even bent. He snatched her above the knee, lifting her toes off the ground and prying her thighs open. 

He pictured the bruises on her skin that his fingertips would leave behind. Just the thought made him rock hard. 

A year ago, Peter would have been ashamed. He would have shied away from her, for fear of repulsing her, and took out his frustration by himself in the shower. 

Grinding his teeth at those memories, he pressed Honey’s hips into his waist, forcing her legs around him, and—Fuck—her heat.

Peter’s brain nearly short-circuited. She was like a bonfire against his belly. His cock pushed against his trousers, straining for her warmth. He secured her hips to his with a tight grip, which only pissed her off more. She thrashed, enraged. 

She really needed to stop doing that. It only made the burn worse. 

A few months ago, Peter would have been ashamed of the rush he felt from manhandling her. Ashamed of how his cock ached and twitched at her fruitless tantrums.

“Fucking asshole!” Honey sneered.

“Yeah?” he said with a bitter laugh. “You're a spoiled little brat!”

“Fuck you!”

“See what I mean?” Peter scoffed, holding her tighter. He breathed hotly into the shell of her ear. “Not even a ‘please.’” 

His pride was short-lived. Inexplicably, Honey arched her neck and buried her teeth into his shoulder. He roared—“Fuck! What the fuck!!??” —surprised she didn’t bite through the silk of his collared shirt.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only beast in the room.

They tumbled down ungracefully. Peter landed hard on his back, with Honey crashing on top of him. She collapsed on his lungs, knocking the wind from his chest. Sputtering, he reached out to grab her, his fingertips barely missing the hem of her dress. The small woman scrambled to her hands and knees, then to her feet. 

Honey dashed into the suite while Peter’s voice echoed—“Goddamnitareyacrazy!?”—after her. 

Padding on her toes, she ran into a darkened living room with vaulted ceilings that might have been large enough to fit her entire apartment. Outside glass walls, the Midtown skyline surrounded her. The Metlife and Empire State Buildings glittered proudly in a breathtaking view.

The room was situated in the corner of the building. Velvet curtains framed the floor-to-ceiling windows, providing an unobstructed view of the city. The Dark Academia-Meets-Glam aesthetic seating area featured a sleek, modern leather sectional and mod velvet chaise lounge chat set. 

Without time to admire any of it, she scrambled to the first piece of furniture she could reach. She grabbed the first thing her fingers could find—a designer fruit bowl centerpiece made of polished stainless steel and brass pomegranates. 

It was exquisite and expensive. 

Honey spun on her heel and flung the heavy metal at Peter.

He dipped deftly, his spine bowing back, narrowly missing the bowl as it whipped past him. The object barreled through a crystal chandelier, glass shattering like raindrops as they came down.

“Hey—!” he scowled, facing her with an indignant glare.

A moment later, he quickly shielded his face from another flying object: an asymmetrical crystal-and-Riverstone candelabra that crumbled against his forearm. It might as well have been a brick, with ceramic shards tumbling off of his shoulder. 

Peter bristled in aggravation, brushing the pieces off. Now, she was really pissing him off.

He glanced up just in time to see a glass vase containing two dozen roses—meant to be her gift—hurtling towards his head. Reflexively, he snatched it from the air with one hand, water and all. He palmed the crystal vase like catching a baseball. Didn’t spill a drop. 

His quick reflexes stunned the both of them. Peter’s jaw went slack—partially at his ability to save the flowers, but mostly with indignation that Honey had somehow destroyed $1,000 worth of the hotel’s tchotchkes in a few seconds. 

“Enough!” Peter barked, carefully setting the vase down. Ignoring him, the woman darted toward another side table, already reaching for another expensive object to throw at him. 

Suddenly, Honey’s ankle was caught in a sticky grip. Both legs pulled out from beneath her. She flattened immediately with an ooof—her belly dropping to the wool carpet. 

Dazed, she glanced back at her legs with a crease in her brow. With a jolt, she was pulled along by a stringy, spongy substance on her ankle. It felt the way canned compressed air feels when shooting skin at close range. 

Her nails dug into the carpet fibers as she was dragged back. “Agghhh! What the—Getitoff!” 

As soon as the pulling stopped, Honey was on her back again, gazing up at the sharp lines of Peter’s cold gaze. He towered over her, even on his knees, as he mounted her hips. Protesting, she pelted him tirelessly with her fists.

The smell of sweat loomed in the air as he finally restrained her. He caged her in, pinning her wrists to the floor. Nerves buzzing and tempers flaring, she continued to writhe and wrestle with him to no avail. Peter quickly overpowered the more petite woman, fomenting her anger. 

“You’re hurting me!” she sneered breathlessly, teeth gritted. 

Peter was unimpressed. “Liar.”

“M’not lying—!”

He glared back, barely breaking a sweat. “You’re so full of shit—!”

“Fuck you! What do you know—?”

“I know you, Honey!” he charged, silencing her. 

She went still, subdued beneath his dark gaze. Peter loomed over her like a stormcloud. “I know the games you like to play,” he said—both teasing and sinister, toying with his prey. He lowered his lips until they breathed the same air. 

Honey’s focus was split between Peter’s intense stare and glistening, kiss-ravaged mouth. She tried not to notice the sensation of her nipples brushing against the fabric with each labored breath. He could easily reach down and touch her. Tried not to focus on how solid his chest felt against hers, like carved marble. Tried not to focus on the dark chocolate of his eyes melting in the heat of their gaze. 

Just as intensely, Peter watched her watch him—zeroing in on the idle way her tongue darted to wet her lips. The tiny action shot electricity down his spine, straight to his groin. 

Honey felt that, too. A tiny gasp escaped her, her lashes fluttering. The fight suddenly left her arms as she noticed the heavy bulge against her hip. 

He was hot. Not just figuratively. Feverishly hot. He was so hard, too—and just for her. The lewd image of him splitting her open on his cock made her insides clench. 

Peter eyed her dangerously, his voice a dark abyss. “Think you can hide it from me, eh?” The teasing smile on his lips bordered on a snarl. “Gonna sit here an’tell me... that if I were to reach down between your legs right now...” Her heart hammered in her chest, hanging on every word. In her mind, she was begging him to follow through with the threat. “...Those panties won’t be soaked?” 

Honey failed to swallow back a little mewl as he leaned down closer.

“Ya think I can’t feel ya, huh?” he mumbled, lips ghosting the curve of her throat. “Think I can’t smell how wet you are right now?” Another wanton exhale left her belly as she leaned into the heat of his breath on her skin. “Y’know I can already taste you on my tongue, babygirl.”

Honey’s mouth and legs seemed to part further at his vulgar words. She shivered at the sensation of his slick tongue traversing her pulse point.

“You’re... an asshole...” she murmured breathlessly. She sounded half-asleep.

Peter hissed, “And you’re a needy little slut, aren't’cha?” 

The sudden ferocity made her eyes unintentionally roll back. A second later, Peter’s fingers collared her, choking off the small mewl in her throat. He turned her by the chin, wrenching her attention to him. 

“Hey—Eyes on me,” he commanded.

Mesmerized, Honey blinked up at him like a fawn.

“How ‘bout that little stunt you pulled with the waiter?” he prodded. There was an icy edge on the last word. Her throat bobbed while she kept her face neutral. The bright amber of his glare penetrated her. Peter continued accusatorily, “Those flirty little giggles while he gave ya fuck-me eyes? Y’think I didn’t see that?”

Honey sniffed, stiffening her upper lip. This was a power move; she knew better than to back down. “Look who's jealous,” she scoffed. 

With a jolt, she again attempted to wrench her wrists free. He simply held on tighter, closing his talons as she twisted like a snake.

“Jealous?” Peter repeated calmly, narrowing his eyes into slits. “Me? Nah.” His hands suddenly seized her hips as he forcibly jerked her up off the floor. A slew of profanities spilled from her mouth, bucking against him as he carried her.

In a few strides, he was at the edge of a dining table. With little regard for his barbarity, he plopped Honey on the surface, shoving her flat on her back. Peter arched over her as if to dominate her, spine bowing until he filled her periphery with his fierce gaze. 

Honey’s eyes sparkled, cheeks colored from the rush. “Threatened, then!”

Peter’s face softened inexplicably. Blinked at her for a moment, head tilting. Then, he landed an open-palmed smack against her ass. 

It was a surprisingly heavy blow, as close as he’d ever come to intentionally inflicting pain on her. Honey yelped, hissing from the sting on her upper thigh. Right after the strike, Peter’s fingers began kneading her flesh, soothing the welt that was bound to form.

“See, if I were a jealous man,” he noted with an evil sneer, “I woulda gouged his eyes out with a salad fork.” 

Peter swallowed up her gasp with a forceful kiss. A few moments later, he broke away.

“If I felt threatened?” he added breathlessly, “I woulda bent you over the table and fucked you dumb. Let everyone in the Five Boroughs hear you beg for my cock.”

Once the filth rolled off his tongue, Peter went back to using it to lash against hers. Honey was overwhelmed by the soft, wet muscle invading her mouth. Not only that, the violent edge to his words felt like standing in a river and grabbing a livewire. A shiver racked through her body, a current of pent-up anger and desire sending blood rushing to her core.

As if on cue, Peter’s fingertips made contact with the lace fabric between her thighs. She tremored at his touch, heart skipping. He toyed with the soft, stretchy material. Snapped it lazily against her flesh.

His voice was hypnotizing. “I woulda shoved these dirty panties down his throat just to never hear his stupid fuckin’ accent again.”

Honey felt drunk off of the vitriol he poured into her ear. It was violent and possessive... and it shouldn’t have made her so horny, and yet—

Honey trembled with anticipation, panting like a bitch in heat. “I-I... can’t... ugh, fu—” 

The pads of his fingers ran firmly along her seam. She let out an embarrassing whine. Peter's prediction was spot-on. A shameful amount of wetness coated the inside of her thighs. He played with the soaked fabric and smeared her mess across her skin with a smug smirk.  

“Think I don’t know what you like?” he muttered darkly, echoing her earlier jab. 

RIP!

The lace bunched at her waist. Honey’s wet skin felt particularly chilled being exposed to the air. She quivered with anticipation. Her head was spinning, pussy throbbing. She felt worshiped and simultaneously defiled. 

Peter pressed his forehead into hers, skin-to-skin. She stared into the black of his eyes in suspended silence, like the pornographic thoughts in his head were being projected into her mind.

Her own pupils were blown black. “Fuckin’ hate you so much—”

“I don’t care.”

“—re’such an asshole—”

“I don’t care,” he repeated more firmly. Then, “You belong with me.”

“You left me!” she fired back.

The sharpness of her tone sobered him a little. He blinked and sighed. “I couldn’t leave you. I didn’t leave you.”

She attempted to sit up, trying to lift her shoulders unsuccessfully. She writhed with spite, “Fuckin’ selfish prick, I outta cut off—”

“What was my drink order?”

He blurted the last sentence out with a mind-blowing level of calm. At once, their bodies went still. Still pinned to the table with a hummingbird beneath her breast, Honey stared up at him in confusion. 

Her brows pinched together. “Huh—?”

“My drink order,” Peter repeated, his expression void of the aggression he had the previous moment. 

It was like a mask had fallen away, and the man on top of her transformed into a different person. Maliciousness evaporated, replaced by eagerness. Desperation. 

Peter stared at her, intently searching her gaze. “At the shop,” he whispered, eyes soft. “What you used to make for me every time I came t’see you..?” The words fell away as he stared at her expectantly. 

She arched a brow. 

It had been black coffee, bitter and dark. Just like Peter’s entire world. How it had always been. Until—

“You said I should try something new,” he added, with urgency like reminding her of a forgotten dream. “So you made something for me—something... special.”

Peter’s heart swelled through his eyes at the last word. Honey stared up at him, perplexed. He was looking for the answer on the tip of her tongue:

Honey and Lavender. 

Confusion ceded to aggravation. A line formed between Honey’s brows.

“You remember, right?” he asked, hopeful.

She did. He knew she did. He could see it at the corners of her eyes, pooling behind her eyelids. Sobering memories flooded her, cooling the heat between them. A different sort of ache settled in.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

He took a breath, relieved but still anxious. “Say those words,” he said, “if you really want me to stop.”

Her damp lashes fluttered as Honey blinked up at him in surprise. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, he swallowed dryly. His stomach lurched at the thought of being sent away like this. 

Still, it was a risk he had to take. 

“I can let go, walk away,” he offered tenderly. “Right now. No questions asked.” Each word felt like sticking needles through his tongue. He gave her an out, needing confirmation that her reciprocated lust wasn’t imagined. 

“Say the words,” Peter whispered in lament, “and I’ll leave you alone.”

That word settled like a boulder crushing his chest.

Despite Peter’s heart telling him her rejection would be unbearable, the thought of truly harming her was more so. 

Honey studied him with thoughtful eyes, contemplative and curious. He had won. He subdued her. Restrained her. She remembered when he threw a piano like a toddler throwing a toy truck. 

She could do little to stop him if he wanted to force her. And yet—

There he is. 

This was the man she remembered. The one that was ready to die for her. To die by her hand, if that’s what she wanted. 

“Two words,” Peter sighed, his nose brushing against hers. It was a sweetly affectionate gesture. “Say the words, and this can end right n—”

Honey captured his lips, stealing his breath like it was her only source of oxygen. Static filled Peter’s ears, his body tensing and relaxing simultaneously. He was soaring and plummeting. Rising and falling. 

Her tongue slipped past his lips, dragging along the pad of his mouth. Soon enough, the sweetness melted off in their flames. 

Honey pulled her mouth away, barely able to get out her plea. “Touch me, Peter. Make me feel it.”

And she dove right back in. This time, Peter plunged with her, deep beneath the waves of lust. He sank into her current, dragging her with the tide of desire.

Peter’s hands were frantic travelers. Flitting from her wrists to her shoulders. To gently cup her face. To smooth over the mounds of her breasts. To dig his fingers into the linen fabric of the sweetheart neckline.

“Love this dress,” he idly mumbled between kisses, abusing the neckline. “Mmm—where’d ya say ya got it?”

“Oh…uhm—?”

The question caught her off guard. She blushed, brain foggy with lust. Her instinct was to say something like ‘thank you,’ but her tongue fumbled the words. “Uh... it was, I think, Old Navy—?”

A ripping sound shocked her. She squeaked as a flurry of cotton fibers burst from the top of the dress. 

Peter yanked the linen bodice apart like tissue paper, his tongue chasing away any protest from her lips. Gooseflesh broke out as her skin was exposed to the air. Driven by lust, he shoved the ruined material down to her waist. 

“Fuck, Peter...” she gasped, scandalized.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not sorry.

It was his turn to be greedy. Peter dug his hands beneath the cups of her bra, toying with the peaks of her breasts. 

With a snap, the bra was torn in half. The strength in Peter’s long fingers stunned her. Puzzling her as much as it turned her on.

He laved at her left breast with his tongue, drawing an obscene moan from her. His hand pinched sadistically at her right nipple. The delectable sting traveled from her chest to her cunt. She arched—”ughhh, god”—her spine bowing beautifully.

He held the cleft of her left breast delicately in his hand while lapping at the ridges of her peaked flesh. Warm tongue caressed the tip, drawing shapes and discovering pathways to her pleasure. Every little flick inspired something new. She cooed and twitched beneath him. He was desperate to memorize her taste. 

Languidly, he massaged each of her tits inside his mouth, his cock aching as he imagined licking her pussy with the same fervor. It was almost unbearable. A strangled moan vibrated through his chest at the picture in his mind. 

Her reaction to the sound came out as an agonized mewl. 

Oh.

He needed more of that sound.

Peter felt her push on his shoulders. Trying to wriggle away from his mouth. 

This time, he had no tolerance for misbehavior. He grabbed both wrists and forced them above her head. Honey yanked back, stunned at being glued down to the table surface by his palms. 

The peach of his pouty lips curved upward as his eyes took a turn ravishing her. She was a sight of wicked debauchery. Her hair was a mess, and her nearly-naked body lay across the table like a feast. Her thighs locked around his hips.

He used one hand to rub circles into the delicate skin of her restrained forearms. The other hand mischievously dipped lower and lower, sliding through her wet heat. Calloused, dexterous fingers spread her lips open, playing in her slick and prodding her tight hole. 

Honey was finished. Ruined. Past the point of no return. Unconditionally surrendered. Helpless and eager to subjugate herself to her conqueror. Filthy sounds filled the room, punctuated by weak cries from his new loyal subject.

“So pretty,” he sighed breathlessly as he coated his fingers in her cream. “All this for me, princess?” He cooed at her, edging on cruel.

A broken gasp fell from her lips, her chest pulsing involuntarily. 

“Aww, what’s the matter? Does this little pretty pussy ache, baby?”

A vortex formed deep in her belly, dragging her in. He licked his dry lips, salivating at the image.

“I know it hurts, baby, I know. I know,” he teased. “It’s been hard playin’ all by yourself, huh?” The sunniness of his voice was eclipsed. “All alone. Screamin’ out my name into your pillow. Fingers buried deep in your wet cunt.”

Honey’s eyes snapped open. Before she could respond, the breadth of his middle fingertip penetrated her. She gasped as his finger speared her open. All the while, he wore a devil’s smile.

“Ain’t that right? Only for me.” Entranced, he watched her every twitch and shudder. “This pussy belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

It was a question feigning the need for her confirmation. She couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. 

No, that can’t be right—had he been watching her masturbate in her apartment? Was he watching her the entire time he was gone? 

The possibility enraged her. Ten orgasms from the King of New York’s Underworld couldn’t even quell that fire.

Peter smiled wickedly, playing with her pussy. Taking his time toying with her flesh. He was a tyrant-king, dominating her pleasure. With a calloused hand, he held onto her cunt like it belonged there.

But she was his wild colt. Difficult to break.

“Oh-n—ohh god,” she gasped. Unbeknownst to him, an evil plot bloomed in her brain. Her lips curled into a smile.

“Fuck—gah—ohhhhh…”

He licked up each broken syllable.

“Yes! Oh, god, yes! Oh—” 

Sweat beaded on her chest, sin oozing through her pores.

“...Pedro.”

Halt.

Brakes squealing. Full stop. Not only in the physical world between them but also in Peter’s living fantasy.

Mischievously, Honey’s grin widened. 

She got him, alright. 

Flawless victory.

Dark eyes flashing, Peter withdrew his fingers from her. “Fuckin’ brat…”

In one fluid motion, Peter flipped her over to her belly, stunning her. He followed with another forceful slap to her ass cheek. This one was more punishing than the last, drawing a puppy-like yelp. His voice was ice. Eyes black. 

Now, she was in trouble.

“Think that’s funny?” he said through gritted teeth.

Peter manipulated her limbs like a rag doll. He maneuvered her forward until her cheekbone pressed against the table. She panicked for a moment at being in such a compromising position. 

The chill of the air across her wet pussy made her shiver. At the same time, she clenched at his roughness.

Peter kneaded her sides, pressing fingerprint bruises on her waist. He yanked her hips towards him until her knees were on the table’s edge. Honey’s face burned, stricken with modesty and flustered by how he hoisted her ass in the air. 

Her hips were propped up like a rack of lamb, and he licked his lips at the sight. It was too vulnerable, being bared to him like this. Obscene, on display, inches from his face. 

For a half second, she considered using the safe words. 

She squirmed uncomfortably while her mess dripped down the inside of her thighs. Peter denied any attempt to escape, eventually gathering her limbs and pulling her hands behind her back. 

Short puffs of breath fogged the glass surface of the table. Her heart pounded beneath her. Honey had only witnessed this side of him a few times—and never directed toward her. 

She was in trouble. But was she in danger?

The buckle of his belt clinked as it came free. Honey quivered at the sound, pussy aching in anticipation.

And if she was in danger, why did that make her wet?

“Pete—” Honey muttered, a scream bubbling at the back of her throat. Leather nipped at her forearms as he used his belt to tie her hands behind her back. 

“Ple-please—“

He fisted her hair, rearing her head back. Her neck arched beautifully, her chin dangling above the table surface.

“Listen to me, princess,” Peter snarled, hot in her ear. Spite peppered his tone. “If you ever call out another man’s name when I’m inside ya again— I’ll make ya wear nothin’ but my cum for the next week.” 

The savage tone contrasted with the glow of his eyes. 

It was always opposites with him.

This was the same man who coddled and worshiped her. The same one who kidnapped her, drugged her, blindfolded her, and gagged her. 

He forced her, a willing participant, into his bed—by asking her permission. 

Peter was more than capable of keeping her chained to his bedpost if he wanted it. 

Or… if she wanted it.

Peter snickered at her expression. “Ooh, yeah… Betchu’d like that, huh?” He taunted her like she was broadcasting her dirty thoughts. “Such a needy little slut for me, ain't that right?” 

Honey felt his warmth leave her back, like being plunged into the Hudson in winter. His hands reappeared at the back of her thighs, and her first instinct was to try to close her legs. 

That was a mistake and an impossible endeavor. 

He split her thighs like opening a book. Grinned at the sight as if he stumbled across gold.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re soaked. Just talkin’ about it and look at the mess you made…”

Embarrassment and want ravaged her. The conflicting experiences had her ovaries twisted into knots. Honey bit her tongue, unsure if she was going to scream or moan. 

Instead, it came out like a pathetic mewl. “Pe-Peter, please—”

Then he open-palm-smacked her cunt, fingers landing directly on her labia. 

The wet sound it made was humiliating, and the sensation triggered all of the reactions above. She squealed at the sting on her folds. This was a delectable torture. For Peter, it was an appetizing sight. 

“Ya like that?” he grinned over the sound of her whimpers. He already knew the answer.

Another slap to her cunt made her whole body shake. 

“Like bein’ my kept girl? Tryin’ so hard to get my attention. Drivin’ me nuts. Well, you got it now, Honey.” 

Slap. 

A third strike had her pussy clenching. Honey had never experienced such an erotic rush before. She shuddered with embarrassment, afraid she’d cum from this—

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Honey gasped for air, a scream breaking through her voice. She was drowning in sick pleasure, tears in her eyes.

The mob boss gripped her thighs again, pulling her knees off the table and lifting up the weight of her lower half. The action was as easy as lifting a sheet of paper. 

God, his strength was impossible. She struggled to comprehend it while picturing herself being broken apart by it. A slew of tiny pleas fell from her lips. She didn’t even know what she was begging for—his mercy or punishment.

“Shh, shh, babygirl,” he purred with a candy voice. Brought his lips to where she was split, equal parts seductive and sinister. “Be still for me. I gotcha.” He wore a Cheshire grin. “Lemme kiss it better.” 

Slowly, he licked a line from her clit to the entrance of her cunt. She shuddered, followed by a lewd wail. She bucked her hips as he let the tip of his tongue toy with her. 

“Mmmf—so fuckin’ sweet,” Peter mumbled between languid strokes around her vaginal gate. His grip was inescapable. “Can’t help myself, s-sooo hungry…”

Honey felt an evil smile against her skin before his mouth went back to work on her. Tiny, stinging nips and kitten licks tormented her flesh. With her hips locked in place, he lashed her clit with his tongue.

Honey squirmed against the leather belt, her nails digging into the grain. She wanted to be bound like this forever. 

Peter had no intention of letting her go any time soon. 

With her thighs spread open, he dragged her toward the edge of her ecstasy. As soon as he felt her body begin to shake, he pulled away. The punishment ended with another smack to her swollen clit.

Honey cried out in frustration at having her release snatched away. 

Oh, yes—He was weak for that sound.

“What’s’a matter, baby?” he smirked with a dark chuckle. This was becoming his favorite pastime. “You mad now that you’re not the only one who can play games?”

“Gahh—Peter… fuck, plea—don’t tease—!”

Peter’s fingers slipped inside with a squelch, shutting her up. Simultaneously, he lapped at her juices while massaging her walls. Soon, he settled into an unbreakable focus.

Each kiss to her nether lips sizzled with passion. Fueled by devotion usually only reserved for a wedding day. 

“—mmmm, tastes so pretty,” he murmured into her flesh, “my pretty girls...” 

In her dazed state, Honey wondered with a pang of jealousy who the ‘she’ he was referring to was. 

“—sooo sensitive; she likes it when I kiss her like that, yeah?—” He said, in between languid, open-mouth kisses to her slit.

Jesus Fucking Christ, he’s talking about my pussy? In the third person? 

Honey gasped, scandalized at the preposterous thought. It was the most deliciously erotic moment of her life. Enraptured tears budded her eyes, the coil in her belly nearly suffocating her.

“—Fuck, oh god, Peter, don’t stop, don’stop, donstop, donstah—”

Preoccupied with his own intoxicating thoughts, Peter was eager with his tongue and steady with his hands. The room filled with the filthy, wet sounds of his carressing and French kissing of her cunt. He pleasured her with his fingers and mouth, passionately— reverently— as if making love to two different brides. 

Soon, Honey’s pleas were barely more than breathless whining. He smiled like the devil, lips coated with her slick. 

“Patience, Honey,” he admonished, sing-song and patronizing. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I might let you get to taste Her, too.”

Fuck—she was going to come from this. 

The more perverse his words were, the closer she was. So, so close—

Then, another sharp slap. 

Honey wailed, fingers digging into the leather of her restraints. Her whole body protested. The cycle repeated so many times she lost count—until her flesh was puffy from his torture. 

“Please, don’t—please, Peter, don’t tease,” she frantically begged, tears streaming. “No more— Please, I wanna come so bad—” 

He sucked on her clit.  “Yeah?”

“God, yes, please—Nyahhh-need you—Need you... inside—“

Peter hissed behind his teeth, struggling to keep his pace even as his cock jerked at her pleas. He flashed an evil smile. “S’at right?”

“Pl-please, f-feels so good, ple—gah-I need it—!”

He was in no hurry. It was almost greedy, the way he ravaged her. His fingers pressed Merlot bruises into her hips and waist while his mouth left raspberry welts on her thighs. 

Honey cried out around a moan as she felt his fingers deepen. His loving touches to her sensitive spots turned wicked, reminding her this was also a penalty for her bratty transgressions. She wept and squirmed, practically drooling on the table.

He simply grinned.

“—Mmmhm, that’s it—scream for me, princess—”

Honey’s tiny little hip thrusts fit easily in his palm as he groped her. He found it adorable, really.

“Mmm...m’sorr—ow—agh!”

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it,” he panted, eyes blown black. Shadow returned to his voice. “You’re mine now, ya hear?” His eyes traveled to where his fingers were buried to the knuckles. “Gonna fuck you every way I want—”

“Pleasepleasepleaseyes—it’syoursit’syoursallyours—”

His eyes swam over her body, drunk with lust.

All mine. 

The sinfulness of his thoughts tugged his insides into a vortex. This was wrong, he reasoned. Not how he wanted this to go. Poor girl sounded brainless, begging to be fucked.  He wasn’t much better off. This wasn’t how he planned this to go. 

But he was willing to pivot.

Hands shaking, he fumbled with his fly. It wasn’t until his cock bobbed free, glistening with precum, that he felt any sort of relief. Peter grabbed her hips and lifted them off of the table, repositioning her so he was lined up with her slit.

“Fuckin’ need you so much, Honey—” he muttered mindlessly, focused on pushing the swollen, leaking crown of his cock against the silk of her pussy. 

Her hips’ weight rested easily in his hands, and she keened at the sensation of his head pressing against her entrance. 

And god, she'd forgotten he was thick.

Honey tensed up, even as her pussy throbbed with want. It was as if all her muscles were reaching for him, heart included.

It was too much. Mascara trailed faintly down her cheeks. Her heart soared. And ached. She felt spoiled with pleasure, delighting in this penance.

More. She wanted more.

“Fuck—wanted ya so bad,” Peter mumbled, watching his cock slip through her lips. He sounded airy, hypnotized by the view. “Wanted t’crawl through your window like the goddamn—ahh— boogeyman... fuck ya in your own bed. Wanted t’take’ya home with me and keep ya there— Never let you leave.”

Honey swallowed back a sob. Then why did you send me away? 

He paused. 

Uh-oh. Did she say that out lo—?

“Because I’m an idiot,” Peter huffed, his voice fragile. 

He leaned forward and lovingly kissed up her spine, each tender press of his lips an apology. 

“I’m a stupid fuckin’ fool.” The heat of his breath ghosted across her back. “So stupid—Thought I could protect ya if I kept you away. Thought I could somehow live like that—without you.” He shook his head. “Goddamn fool.”

Peter felt the sting of tears flooding his vision. Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut to keep them out. “I can’t live without ya,” he nearly whimpered. “There is no life for me if you’re not in it.”

“Peter,” she said, feeling her heart lurch. Her spirit was a ship being tossed in a hurricane. One more wave, and she would break. Honey’s voice trembled, “St-stop t-talking—”

“Not until I’ve said what I shoulda said—!”

“If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next five seconds—”

Peter cut her off by pulling her up by the shoulders and standing her upright. Honey fought it—because, of course, she did—desperately clutching the steel armor around her heart. 

Overpowering her again, he tugged the naked woman closer until her back lined up to his chest. It was an awkward position with her bound arms crushed behind her against his abs. He towered over her, eyeing her face from the side, seeking her gaze. Hooked a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. 

Always the fighter, Honey tried to wrench herself from his hold. Peter’s body was like a Greek god’s, with pillar-like arms and marble fingers keeping her from wriggling away. But his soft, soulful eyes are what pinned her in place. 

As soon as she peered into their oaken color, she was trapped again. 

“No,” she sneered, shaking her head. The tears weren’t from pleasure anymore. “Don’t—”

“‘Honey and Lavender,’” he whispered, featherlike. “Those are the words. All you gotta do is say ‘em, and I’ll stop.”

She gritted her teeth, bucking against his sweetness. His arms wrapped around her torso, pulling her in.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me!” she revolted, voice getting weaker by the second. “What the hell do you want from me, Peter?!” 

His features softened. Serenity pressed between his lips. “I want all of you, Honey,” he answered with resolve. “Body and soul. Wanna spend the rest of my life with ya. If you don’t kill me first.” 

He said the ‘if’ part with a teasing lilt in his tone and a half-smile. The same smirk that she loathed—and fell in love with. 

Honey squeezed her eyes shut. Peter’s thumb came up gently, wiping a messy tear from her cheek. That loving and pure act was worse than any torture he could inflict.

Walls tumbling down, her body loosened. She went slack against his arms, instead fighting to keep more tears from flowing.

“I love you,” he whispered, pouring his soul into each word. “Forever. Remember? No matter what.” 

Peter waited for her eyelids to peel back, revealing glossy eyes and a weary expression. They stayed still for eons. Nothing but their breaths and heartbeats between them, eyes locked on each other.

“Even if you’re mad as hell at me,” he added. “Even if you hate me—I want it all.”

Her lower lip wobbled. “And what then, Peter? What now?”

A moment passed. He leaned around her shoulder, bringing her chin close, and answered her with a kiss. Gentle at first, his tongue explored hers as she relaxed against him. She felt her toes leave the ground before she realized what was happening.

Peter broke the kiss. “Now?” he breathed into her hairline. “I’m gonna show you what it means to be mine.”

One of his hands left her torso—borrowed to push the head of his cock into her gate. An overwhelming burn erupted between her legs. She arched her back away from his abs as best she could while being split open.

Honey wailed brokenly, voice shattered, as he bottomed out. Peter’s hand instinctively came up to cover her mouth. She let the scream out into his palm, just as he’d promised.

Peter hissed, letting his head fall back in agonized ecstasy. His eyes drifted shut, feeling both relief and torment buried to the hilt in her warmth. 

He barely ground out, “Shh-shhh, s’alright... that’s it, s-so good, so good for me...”

His Honey was already writhing on his cock, and he hadn’t even begun to move. She was so goddamn tight he wasn’t sure he wanted to move at all.

Still, he couldn’t help indulging himself. Never could, around her.

The arm bracing Honey’s torso snaked back across her body. His hand, burning hotter than a branding iron, stretched out and smoothed over the curvature of her belly. Her pussy clenched tighter as his palm found the trophy he was looking for—an obscene bulge in her lower stomach.

A slow, sinful curve played upon his lips. “Fuck, babygirl. Look at you.” When he uncovered her mouth, her roars had quieted down to a wanton purr. He gently tilted her head downwards so she could witness the depravity herself. “Just look at how you take my dick, Honey.” 

She shuddered at the sight, nodding rapidly, unable to speak. She wondered if this was just more teasing, but she couldn’t think beyond the penetration. 

“God, you look so beautiful like that,” he muttered breathlessly. His amber eyes were fixated on the sinful spectacle beneath her waist, unable to avert his gaze. “So pretty with my cock stuffed up inside your tummy...” 

Peter sounded unhinged, even to himself. His abs twisted into knots. Vile, perverse images eclipsed his sense of decency—her body naked and wrecked, with his seed spilling from her holes. Then, her belly round with his children. Just the thought devolved him like his civilized nature was sucked back into a black hole.

Wordless whimpers poured from her lips as her taut muscles succumbed to his girth. Calloused fingertips reached further down, brushing against the hood of her clit. She jolted in his arms with the slightest touch.

At that moment, Honey’s world disappeared. Nothing existed but the exquisite ache between her legs. 

The conquerer inside him preened. “Is that the spot? Is that where it hurts, baby?” he purred into her ear with a filthy, predatory voice. Her body answered him, rewarding him with a delicious squeeze around his shaft. “That’s it,” Peter groaned, insatiable. “Good girl. So good for me.” 

His praise, even if it was teasing, was too much. Peter’s affirmations, paired with his ministrations, tightened the coil in her stomach. Exhaustion crept up on her body even as the bubble of desire swelled.

Ever so slowly, his hips pitched back and then forward. He bottomed out again at the end of the languid stroke. A shattered mewl burst from her lips, pussy pulsating around his dick.

She was magnificent. 

”Fuck, baby. Feels s-so fuckin’ good—ahh, I missed this tight pussy so much. Wanted to play with her so bad…”

Peter’s hips moved of their own accord. They were a pornographic masterpiece in the decorative mirrors situated around the room. He stole a greedy glance at the couple’s reflection. Smiling wickedly, he turned her head, making her see what he was seeing.

Honey’s stomach fluttered at the sight of her body—glistening and restrained—slotted against him. Her head bobbed as Peter gripped her hips and fucked into her like a sex doll. 

Perverse. Debauched. Divine. It made her lightheaded.

Slowly, he increased the pace of his thrusts, panting into her ear. At some point, she started muttering. Broken and embarrassingly desperate pleas and pet names tumbled unwittingly out of her mouth.

One of them must have caught his attention. But she honestly couldn’t remember what she had said.

“Ugh—I lose my fuckin’ mind when you call me that name,” he growled, throwing his head back. “Ya know that, precious? Such a good girl for me. Good girls get spoiled.” 

Honey’s body thrummed at his baby talk. In all its depravity, she started to suspect what she must have said in all its depravity. Slowly, she was losing the ability to be ashamed.

The slick-coated pad of Peter’s thumb circled her clit, before traveling down further. He curiously prodded where they were joined—“Fuck, look at how good ya open up for me.” — His fingers trailed the outline of her stretched hymen wrapped around his cock.

Honey closed her eyes and turned away, blushing from his praise. Timid about how she relished in the filth. Peter brought his lips to her ear as if there was a secret the two of them shared.

“Don’t worry, baby. I gotcha—Daddy’s gonna make the ache go away.”

The spring snapped. She was nearly knocked over by the wave of pleasure that followed. Her pussy fluttered around his cock with no warning, body trembling and toes curling. Her cream gushed down his shaft. 

He snickered as if he’d won a prize. 

Honey could vaguely recognize her pathetic voice through the bells in her ears. She squealed and cried out over his repetitive, patronizing chants — “Awwgoodgirl, fuckin’ so-so perfect— squeezin’ me so tight” — while he fucked her through her orgasm.

It felt like several moments of pure pink haze, herself a willing victim to his delicious, relentless pull. 

“Shit, sweetie, did you just come all over my cock?” he asked, exasperated.

Embarrassment flooded her despite her persistent mewling. 

“Don’t cry, baby. Don’chu worry,” he murmured affectionately, himself obsessed with the cavern of her divine flesh. “When I said I was gonna make you my toy, I meant it.” She whimpered, nodding her head as it rested back against his shoulder. “M’not finished with you,” he said, dropping an octave. “Not by a long shot.”

Time ceased to have true meaning. Peter rammed into her steadily.

“Please don’stop, please use me, please, wan’more—” She yelped like a puppy.

He smiled against her sweaty skin. “Yeah? Ya like bein’ a good girl? My good girl?”

“I’llbegoodI’llbegoodm’yours—fuck—yoursyoursyours—”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he groaned, with another curse beneath his breath. Eyes drifted shut. “Good, good girl.”

All he could think of was more. 

More of that sound. More of her juices. More of her staccato breaths as he fucked her tits into a steady bounce on her chest. More of her whining, whimpering like a bitch in heat.

“All mine, all mine…”

Peter needed more of her. He needed to watch her fall apart on his cock again. Honey was so close already; he could feel it. He’d give her another orgasm, one that leaves her in tears. Then another. He was going to fuck her into submission atop the throne he built for her. She was already his queen. 

Then—He’d make her his whore.

Flip her on her back against the table—or couch— countertop—fuck, maybe the bed if he could remember where it was. Whatever he could reach first. 

Then he’d split her open again on his cock. That way, he could see the enraptured awe on her face. The neediness. Big, round, wet eyes pleading for his touch, calling him filthy names, as his cock bulges below her pubic bone. Begging him to rearrange her guts.

It was heavenly to witness. Peter loved watching her come. And he would, over and over. Once he relocated her to his bed—as soon as he remembered where it was— he could tie her to it.

Not that Honey was fighting at the present. There was no fight in her body, except maybe the will to keep conscious. With every strike against her cervix, she spread herself wider for him. 

But Peter knew she would like it. Honey wanted his unforgiving ecstasy. To take out the mounting frustration of the last few months on her wet pussy. 

“M’gonna fuck you so good, babygirl, m’gonna use your body like my fucktoy—make me feel s-sogood, don’worry—“ 

Honey full-body shuddered with a sob, her head thrown back against his shoulder. 

“S’okay, baby, you can scream if y’want, makes it feel better, doesn’t it, huh—”

Cock-drunk, she nodded, her words coming out as puffs of air.

“Don’stop—don’stop—please, fuck— fuckmehardDaddyIneedit—“

Oh. 

More. Of. That.

“M’not lettin’ you get away again…” he muttered, voice emerging from beneath his twitching abdominal muscles. With possessed eyes, he was glued to where they joined. “Never—never gonna let you go again… All mine now, Honey—you’re all mine…”

Her arms came up to circle the back of his neck as she panted into his throat. “My-my pussy is yours…”

“Everything,” he corrected.

“Everythi—god—I’m yours, Pete—ahh!”

Peter was getting close. No matter. He’d let himself come inside her soon. There was plenty more to follow. 

He barely recognized his own wrecked voice. “’m not leavin,’ baby. I’m not leavin’ ever.”

A gust of wind followed him as the front door to the suite slammed shut. Peter stood alone in the hotel hallway wearing a sheen of sweat... and nothing else. 

He flushed pink, fumbling to cover himself behind his hands. The cool air made the task easier.

Peter sighed. He’d need to talk to maintenance about better insulation up here.

But not right now. Not while Peter Parker stood ass-naked outside of his door, having been kicked out like a cheap fuck. 

Which might have been Honey’s point, he recognized.

The evidence of their past hour together made his skin sticky. She’d tousled his hair and etched into his back with her nails. He felt sore in places he hadn’t felt in years.

Peter also looked thoroughly fucked. A mixture of pain and relief surged through his muscles. His brain was branded with erotic images of her. He wanted them there.

The door opened again, lifting his hopes. He only caught a fleeting glimpse of Honey, wrapped sloppily in a bathrobe. The rest of her didn’t look much better than Peter. She wore a sour yet adorable scowl on her face.

With a huff, Honey hurled a tight wad of fabric at his nuts, unintentionally intentional in her aim. 

Peter oofed, doubling over to catch the ball of his clothes. At the same time, an Italian leather shoe smacked him in the head. Probably his Tom Ford’s. He heard the door slam closed again, rattling against the frame.

Perplexed, Peter gazed at the molding of the door and the gleaming golden script marking the room number. 

He wondered. 

Would she open the door again to throw him the other shoe? 

Or perhaps the slacks that went along with the dress shirt covering his balls?

Unlikely.

He marveled. 

The nerve of this woman. This goddess-barista who served him his soul in a paper cup. Who held the keys to his heart, his home, and presently, his hotel room. Who somehow managed to kick him out of the penthouse suite of his own hotel. 

Within the confines of his ruined dress shirt, Peter felt another buzz. He fumbled with the shirt, reaching the smartphone concealed inside.

>>> have you moved onto the main course? >>> or are you still tossing the salad? >>> pouring ranch on her hidden valley

Felicia. Peter’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. With a sigh, he tapped out a reply.

<<<  Kitchen’s closed.  <<< Need clothes. And a new room.

He saw the ellipsis bubbling up on his screen. 

<<< Not another word.

As soon as the message was sent, Peter took another glance at his empty surroundings. Haplessly, he looked toward the closed door. A river of memories flooded him. It surged, swelled, and finally, came to a low simmer.

This was never going to be easy. Nothing ever was with her.

Nothing worth waiting for ever is.

“See you at breakfast,” he whispered aloud lips curled into a smile. “Sleep tight.”

Holding her breath and her ear to the door, Honey waited until Peter’s footsteps faded. When she could no longer hear them, she sighed with exasperation, overcome with exhaustion. Eyes falling closed, Honey leaned back against the door, body aching in places she would feel for days.

After taking a moment, she heard a buzzing sound further in the suite. Honey jumped with alarm, then stumbled on Fawn’s feet to reach the source.

Quickly, Honey waddled to the remains of her yellow dress, fishing out the buzzing object: a 10-year-old smartphone with a black glittery hard case. A holographic cat sticker was fixed to the back, shimmering in the dim light. 

Not just any cat.

She unlocked the phone to see the latest message.

>>> how’d it go? u give him hell?

The heaviest exhale left Honey’s chest, shame creeping up her chest. With her thumb, she scrolled up to review the text messages sent to her. The oldest of which dated back almost four months.

Weeks of correspondence and reassurance from Felicia, not to mention very clear instructions about Peter Parker and how to play his game. 

There was the one from last month:

>>> don’t let him think for one second that you’re gonna let him get off easy!

Then one from last week:

>>> make him suffer. make him grovel. make him lay down in a puddle so you can cross

And these:

>>> go to dinner, but don’t eat anything. order wine, the most expensive one, take one sip and refuse the rest. you pick the restaurant. if he picks the restaurant, hate everything about it >>> play hard to get— but don’t be too cold >>> be flirty. but not slutty.  >>> give him bedroom eyes, but don’t let him stare at you too long.

Finally, there was a clear instruction sent earlier today.

>>> under no circumstances >>> no matter what >>> you need to remember this >>> DO NOT FUCK HIM!!1

Honey frowned as she gazed at Felicia’s text message bubble, sent with so much hope and good intention. A notion soundly defeated. A truly hopeless endeavor, if there ever was one.

Biting her lip, Honey tapped out a reply to her confidant:

<<< Sure did.

Continue to Part 2 - Bittersweet

Back to S&V Masterlist • Back to Main

Thank you for everything you do. Please keep fanfic healthy and support my writing with a reblog.

[ladykailitha]

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write at least 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

My only problem is that I tend to file name what the title is so I can find it easier, so...here’s what they were called before I titled them.

“File” Names

Stripper AU

Sugar Baby!Steve/Sugar daddy!Eddie

Metal Band AU

Olympic Swimmer AU (here)

Snippet

From the new story:

Eddie Munson was in deep trouble and he knew it. He had been arrested with enough weed on him to know it wasn’t for personal use. Possession with intent to sell. Thank god it happened two weeks before his eighteenth birthday otherwise he’d be facing real jail time and not... community service?

Wait, what?

He was expecting probation at the very least. But nope. He was sentenced to five hundred hours of community service as it was his first offense, he had a troubled childhood, and apparently the God damned Chief of Police on his side. Who had said that he was a good kid who protected the weak and participated in afterschool programs to help teach them math, creative writing, cooperative skills, troubleshooting, and time management.

Eddie’s lawyer told him before Hopper was to testify at his sentencing hearing that he could not laugh, could not chuckle, could not even so much as snort or smile. When Eddie asked why, he was told he couldn’t be told that or else it would be seen as influencing his testimony. And then Hopper got up on the stand and said that.

D&D. Eddie DM’ed D&D after school. Jesus Christ did it take everything he had not to show any emotion at all.

****

It's that great and wonderful time of the week again! WIP Wednesday!

It's the last day of the month so let's finish it strong!

The game runs from 8am-11pm EST.

Send in as many asks as you want as often as you want.

@mira-jadeamethyst @zerokrox-blog @forgottenkanji @w1ll0wtr33 @thesecondfate

@acingthecounts @beelze-the-bubkiss @just-a-tiny-void @kultiras @niniel-karenine

[onboardsorasora]

Sugar Baby Daniel

oooh it has been a minute and a half since we had an update here. Couldn't leave this AU out of Lewis' win AO3 Link: Sugar Baby Daniel | First Tumblr chapter: How they met

The noise was deafening when Lewis drove across the chequered flag. Silverstone was in raptures and there was no one exempt. 

The mechanics and engineers were hanging off of the walls and railings, Toto was jumping and cheering and Carmen was squeezing him tightly. Daniel was in a state of euphoric shock. Reasonably, he knew that Lewis was a world champion and beloved by the sport and fans alike. Reasonably he was very aware that Lewis had all of these stats and awards and accolades for winning. 

But, Daniel realized at that moment that he’d never seen Lewis win. He’d never witnessed the rapturous energy in the paddock, never seen such delight on the faces of the team he’d come to know in the last few years. His joy felt explosive and he knew it was mirrored in everyone around him. Quite literally everyone was happy for Lewis and that made Daniel’s happiness grow. 

He hung back during the ceremonies, shaking his head and waving for Carmen and Linda to go on without him to greet Lewis in parc ferme. He didn’t… he hadn’t been here long enough to bask in the feeling of it all. He didn’t understand the two and a half year drought as much as the people around him had. He didn’t experience it the same way they did. He didn’t know any better. And he felt he would be doing Lewis and his family a disservice by enjoying this moment with them.

He was proud of Lewis, so so proud. So happy for him. Lewis had been excited the night before, buzzing about the possibilities, how he planned to take turn one, the works. Daniel and Roscoe had listened attentively, well Daniel had, Roscoe fell asleep. Daniel knew Lewis would win, had felt it in his bones. What he hadn’t expected was the full blown imposter syndrome trying to make this all about him when it was supposed to be about Lewis.

He was sitting in Lewis’ driver room when the door opened. He saw when Lewis got whisked off to media and Anthony had suggested he wait here, with Roscoe. Lewis stepped in, sweaty and beaming. Golden trophy in hand. 

Daniel stood up and threw his arms around him, tucking himself close. Lewis squeezed him tight and Daniel didn’t even mind the press of the metal edge pressing into his shoulder. 

“I knew you would do it.” Daniel muttered against Lewis’ skin and Lewis laughed joyously in response.

“I didn’t see you out there.” Lewis pulled back to ask, Daniel bit his lip and looked down.

“I uh, I wanted you to have your moment with everyone. I know how much it means to everyone.”

“And to you?”

“Ok ok I didn’t come out cause I was bawling. I was so overwhelmed.” Daniel blushed and covered his face, Lewis’ smile turned soft– understanding. “I’m here now.”

“I’m happy you’re here now.”

Daniel pulled Lewis into a deep kiss, pushing all of his happiness and pride into the feeling. Lewis kissed him back with just as much vigor.

“You know, this is a first for me. I’ve never seen my boyfriend win a race before.” Daniel muttered almost conversationally. Lewis laughed.

“Was it everything you expected?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I could have expected this. Did you know you’re like.. a God?” 

Lewis snorted and shook his head, demure. “Gods have worshippers and all of that, these fans are just fans.”

“Gods also have supplicants…” Daniel trailed off with a raised brow, Lewis’ blood heated.

There was a knock at the door and one of the PR people called out for Lewis. He groaned while Daniel chuckled.

“Hold that thought.” Lewis suggested and Daniel licked Lewis’ lips before kissing him.

“Tonight, I’ll tell you more.”

“Good.”

[jewishregulus]

hi hello hope you're well.... could i ask about alectolily like whats the dynamic like? i've seen you post about them and i really wanna know more

thank you so much for this . i cannot encompass them in one post but here is just a nibble .

ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THIS ENTIRE BLOCK OF TEXT ABT THEM ONFGFGG .. basically alecto has been cast out from pureblood society due to her family’s cowardly history and as a result is v poor .lily is one of the only people outside of her family who sees her for who she is and validates her identity outside of the performance she puts on. and simultaneously alecto is one of the few people who doesn’t put any expectations onto lily . she doesn’t need lily to do anything but be herself and lot lily that is so RARE, because everyone wants her to be a prodigy and to be this big savior and hero and she doesn’t want that!! she wants to do her own thing!! and then alecto betrays lily by joining the deatheaters and it’s the worst possible thing she could’ve done because this betrayal has already happened to her. so not only has she joined the hate group that wants to kill her, she made lily look like an idiot for trusting her . and alecto doesn’t regret it . she craves power and glory over even her own Actual desires . she wants her family to be safe and will do anything to put them back on the map. at a point they both end up just wanting to hurt the other so much they almost die, and then nurse them back to health just so the other can feel how Hurt they are. alecto by lily not understanding why she needs to do this and lily because she did it. they want to be the other’s punisher, and their savior. they want to be the butcher who takes the pig to his own table and cuts the head off in a clean go: a mercy not provided by anyone else but a death nonetheless. real toxic yuri. alecto and lily would go to eachothers houses over break during the hogwarts years (alectos father isn’t a blood supremacist, he put that behind him due to a bad relationship w his parents . they r normal until alecto hates how it has caused themto fall out of good graces and tries to fix it.) alecto talks to lily about her dead mom and lily tells her about petunia. they have a genuine cute romance to the point lily is so shocked their 100% doomed relationship actually meets doom. she was genuinely caught off guard and that’s the part she hates the most .

in like a modern muggle au tho i have a clear vision of lily being a successful author who interviews alecto: masters in arts and language for her new book and ends up becoming alectos accidental sugar mommy bc alecto is dirt poor in every universe. amycus calls her a sugar baby and alecto plucks a leaf off his favorite plant (a crime against him worse than death) . big fan of the sugar daddy/mommy is the bottom trope and that is them here . sorry sorry . alecto leading service top nation but only w lily .::: she wants Lily to feel amazing all the time and nothing else . but also it isn’t ur typical sugar baby arrangement where it’s all sex n stuff …. they have a genuine connection and lily pays her to go on walks around a park and to play with her and amycus’ weird pets and pays her a “room and board” everytime she stays the night . just because she can. and she loves alecto and wants to spoil her as much as alecto wants to spoil her. it’s the worst thing to ever happen to alecto bc she is chronically Anti “charity for herself”…. but lily gets what she wants !!! anyways they are deeply in love .

heres some goofy modern stuff

here’s some canon imagery

[dearestvante]

stars around my scars; kth. | 02.

pairing: taehyung x fem!reader genre: college au, goodgirl x badboy (sort of), angst, fluff warnings: lowercase writing, swearing, drinking, infidelity (not between you and tae), taehyung calls you 'angel', can be confusing at times (i'm a beginner and not a native english speaker), jungkook cameo 🤭 summary: people are not always what they seem. you learned that the hard way, when you caught your boyfriend cheating, the night that was supposed to be one of the best ones you ever experienced. but on the same night you also learned that in everything bad, there’s always a little bit of good. wc: 2.2k series masterlist

november started with a rainy saturday. the light tapping of raindrops woke you up from the comfort of your dreams into the harsh reality. you got out of bed, rubbing your eyes, dragging yourself towards the kitchen. on your way there you noticed that soojin’s bedroom door is slightly open, offering a view of her sleeping like a baby.

in the kitchen, you made yourself a cup of coffee to start the day. you weren’t a fan of the bitter taste, so your caffeinated drinks mostly looked like a child’s, with all sorts of different flavors - and of course, whipped cream - but today you decided on a simple black. you felt bitter, so you needed bitter. though you still added two sugar cubes in it. with the steamy mug in your hands, you sat down on the couch, and as you did, you noticed your coat next to you, the one that you wore last night. soojin must’ve brought it back. you reached inside the pocket to take your phone out. 15 missed calls and 20 unread messages. taking small sips of your coffee, you skimmed through all of them. most of them were from soojin, except for two calls, those were from your boyfriend. sorry, ex-boyfriend. when his name popped up on the screen, you felt your stomach shrink and a lump forming in your throat as last night played in your head over and over again. you threw your phone on the coffee table and sat back on the couch, bringing your knees up to your chest. it felt like a nightmare, expect that it was all real. nightmares you could forget and escape by waking up, but there’s no waking up from reality.

your spiraling was disturbed by the sound of your roommates lazy footsteps. she came out of her room, headed straight for the kitchen and downed like a full bottle of water, in one go. you could hear her muffled swearing as she got another one out of the fridge.

“are you okay?” you asked quietly as you walked to the kitchen , trying not to scare her, but it didn’t work. you startled her so much she almost threw the bottle at you.

“for fuck’s sake, y/n! where the hell where you?”

“me? i was just in the livin-” you tried to answer but she cut you off.

“last night! where were you last night?! jungwon was so worried about you, and so were we.”

you scoffed. “i imagine how worried he must’ve been.”

“what do you mean? we called you like a dozen times but you couldn’t even pick your damn phone up!”

“i left it in the house. i got home earlier.” you said, turning around, hoping soojin won’t ask any more questions. but she did.

“what do you mean, you got home early? did something happen that i don’t know about?”

you stopped in the middle of the room, squeezing your fists, hoping that you don’t break down crying.

“did something happen?! yes soojin, it fucking did. jungwon cheated on me.”

your roommate seemed surprised, but not as much as you would’ve expected her to be.

“oh no, he was right. he said you would misunderstand.”

“there was nothing to misunderstand, soojin i know what i saw!” you were confused and frustrated, on the verge of breaking.

“look, i think you should talk to him, he will explain everything—”

“you don’t believe me?” your voice was shaky.

“i-.. i-i don’t know, okay?!” she replied, running her hand through her hair, frustrated.

“get out..”

“what?”

“get the hell out of my house!” you snapped at her, slapping the kitchen counter which made her jumpy, once again.

“but i have nowhere to go…”

“i don’t fucking care, grab your things and leave.”

you turned around and went straight inside your room, trying to hold your tears in at least until you close the door. losing jungwon was one thing, but losing your best friend was way worse. realizing that she would rather believe his made up story, instead of you, when you knew you are right, felt more painful than a knife through the heart. you dropped to your knees before you could reach the bed. it was too much, too heavy. you felt betrayed, deceived and painfully lonely. as you sat there with your face buried in your hands, you heard soojin slam the front door as she left.

you spent the rest of the weekend inside, on your own. you tried distracting yourself with a handful of activities, but something always reminded you of what happened so you ended up crying again, and again, and again. from studying to scrubbing the bathroom clean, nothing could help ease your mind, up until sunday evening when you decided that this cannot continue anymore. whatever happened, happened, you can’t undo it and crying over it won’t help fix it. it was time to move on, because if you don’t, that means he wins. and you hated the idea of losing.

with the harsh sound of your monday morning alarm, came the harsh realization that moving on might not be as easy as you first imagined. staying in bed and skipping the whole day has never been so tempting before, but you didn’t give in. you still needed your attendances and good grades to keep the scholarship so skipping because of a break up was not an option. not for you. you were always a fighter and that wasn’t gonna change anytime soon.

as you arrived on campus, you immediately noticed your - now ex - friend group standing at your usual spot. taking a deep breath you fastened your steps, walking beside them like they don’t even exist. first bullet, dodged, you thought as you entered the building. going straight for your locker, you took all the necessary books, exchanging them with the ones you brought in your bag. you slammed the locker door shut and headed to class.

mondays weren’t that busy for you, so by lunch you were done with all of your classes. it felt like your ex-friends were avoiding you just as much as you were avoiding them, because you haven’t seen any of them since the morning. little did you know, that this will soon change.

you decided to have lunch at the cafeteria today, so you took a tray of today’s menu and sat down to an empty table, in the back corner of the room. it was an unwritten rule at your college, that the people who sit that far back, do not wish to be bothered, so you were hoping that no one will disturb you. while you finished your food, you had time to look around, considering you had pretty good view of the whole room from the back. you saw two freshman girls trying to earn two seats at the jock’s table, the communications majors judging everyone that entered, art majors covered in paint and/or clay residue, and last but not least, the popular table. that’s where you would be sitting right now, with your friends. you get a little lost in your thoughts and stare at them a moment longer than you originally planned, which they also notice. you see soojin turning towards jungwon, it looks like she’s very persistent about something. you lower your gaze, looking at the leftovers on your plate, praying that their conversation has nothing to do with you. when you look up again, you find jungwon standing in front of you.

“we need to talk.”

you shrug your shoulders. “there’s nothing to talk about. you cheated, we’re over.”

you sound determined, but that’s probably because you rehearsed this exact sentence over and over again during the weekend. you get up, with the intention to end this conversation and leave, but jungwon grabs your arm, holding you back.

“you’re being unreasonable, please just hear me out!”

“i don’t care what lies you fed to the rest, but you can’t deceive me, not anymore. it’s over, now please do me a favor and leave me alone.” you declare, freeing your hand from his grip.

your ex-boyfriend is trying hard to cover his defeat with a nervous chuckle. jungwon hated when you had the last word, he always had to be the one to end the conversation. most of the time you let him, but those days are over, you made that very clear to him today. every single soul in the cafeteria is staring at you as you walk away, and that’s when you know, that the rumors already started. jungwon earned the “cool freshman” title for getting an older girl, while you’re probably painted as the bad girlfriend who couldn’t fulfill a man’s needs. you knew the truth and random students’ opinion didn’t really matter but it still hurt a little, half of campus looking at you like you poisoned their pet.

amidst the weekend you got rid of the stuff that reminded you of your past relationship: you threw out all the gifts and pictures, along with jungwon’s clothes that were left at your place and kicked out your treacherous roommate. the only thing left was the angel costume you rented specifically for the halloween frat party. you called the rental shop and they said you can bring it back on monday, so after coming home from college, you checked if you had all the pieces of it, and headed to the shop.

the woman at the counter was expecting you so you were basically in and out in a few seconds. as you closed the door, you heard your phone ring. it was your mom. you were ignoring her calls and gave your usual updates through texts, but you couldn’t avoid her for long. after all, you did not get your determination from your dad.

“hi mom!” you picked up, the fake enthusiasm in your voice couldn’t have fooled a deaf person.

“sweetheart, would you mind explaining what happened between you and jungwon?” don’t let the nickname fool you, she was furious. her and jungwon’s mom were best friends since high school, so you figured that she told her everything. well, jungwon’s story, to be precise.

“i caught him with another girl. we broke up.”

“are you sure? his mom says he’s very heartbroken because you are not willing to talk to him.” you felt like the whole universe swore against you. first, your best friend, and now your own mother is doubting you.

“really, mom? you of all people should understand.” you said, and without waiting for her answer, you hung up. she was a victim of infidelity herself, it ended her marriage with your dad yet she still chose to believe someone else.

you fastened your pace and walked with your head down, so you don’t have to deal with anyone else today. your plan was compromised when you bumped into someone on the side walk. if it was anyone else, you probably would’ve told them to watch where they’re going, staring them down with a frown, but as you raised your gaze, you saw it’s taehyung you literally walked into.

“hi, angel.”

“hi.” you said, taking a small step back to create some distance between the two of you. “what’s up?”

“got some new stuff” he raised a plastic bag, filled with all types of brushes and paint. “now i’m waiting for my roommate. you?”

“ooh, nice. i just dropped of my costume at the rental shop. officially got rid of everything that would remind me of my ex.” you said, with a faint smile on your face.

“glad to hear that.” he smiled back at you, making your sharp features soften, unintentionally. you’ve never seen a person with a smile as contagious as his. contagious and beautiful.

the two of you would’ve probably stood there for a while just staring at each other if it wasn’t for a guy - taehyung’s roommate, supposedly - snapping you out of it.

“sorry, hyung i couldn’t find the one you said but they had thi— oh hi, stranger.” he said, looking towards you with his big, brown eyes. the guy had a cute, round-ish face and soft features, which he tried to sharpen with various piercings.

“y/n, this is jungkook, my roommate and best friend. jungkook, this is y/n, she’s…” taehyung hesitated, as he tried to introduce you to his best friend.

“i’m taehyung’s friend, nice to meet you.” you held out your hand, turning towards jungkook.

“nice to meet you too.” he shook your hand, smirking, and then turned to his friend. “i didn’t know you had friends.”

you bit your lip in order to hold in your chuckle as taehyung rolled his eyes at jungkook.

“we’re gonna grab some drinks, wanna come?” jungkook offered, flashing his big, curious eyes again. he looked like a kid, you found it really cute.

“it’s a lovely offer, but i gotta go home.”

“please, don’t say ‘to study’.” jungkook whined.

“but she will, right?” taehyung said, in a mocking manner.

“i’m sorry. maybe next time?” you raised your eyebrows inquiringly.

“you’re lucky, you’re cute.” jungkook replied.

“alright, see you next time, then. have fun boys!” you waved both of them goodbye with a huge grin on your face. so huge, it wouldn’t disappear until you reached your apartment.

you didn’t lie about studying, but when you saw the pile of spreadsheets and the code of law sitting on your desk, you felt the will to live slowly evaporate from your body.

“what a fun night.” you thought as you sat down to your desk, cup of coffee in your hand, so you don’t accidentally fall asleep amidst all this entertainment.

a/n. helloo, i’m back <3 ik it’s not the best chapter ever made but i hope it will satisfy everyone for now hehe. anywaysss look forward to the next one, it will be much much better 👀. likes, reblogs & comments are all appreciated. take care ❤️‍🩹

[kissmeau]

Announcement + Plotting call!!

After opening this blog, I was hit with extra hours on my full-time job and two courses that need my discipline to finish!

Therefore, I came up with the idea of making a list of plots I would like to write, so if we follow each other and you have trouble coming with plot ideas like me, you can take a quick look at this and hit me up. Believe me, I want to write with you!!!

There's just a little WARNING!

I'm not tagging the content warning in this post since I want all my mutuals to be able to read this, so I'll divide this into two parts: lighter topics and darker topics. The second part will be under Keep Reading, with the appropriate tag first, so you know what to skip.

Last but not least, this is not strict at all. If you have any other ideas, I would love to hear about them. ^^

Teach my muse something! Anything, from an instrument to a language, to cook, etc. Also, Autumn will probably teach you some self-defense.

Fake-any-kind of relationship. Does your muse want to make anyone jealous? Do they need someone to get married to so they run away from their homophobic family? Did your muse lie and say their baby had a father? You make the call.

Your muse moves to their first home; all their savings and dreams went into that house, only to find out it's already occupied! They have nowhere else to go, and the legal technicalities will take months!

Escape room! Except you can't really go out, and as days go by, you start forgetting about your past life. The only thing grounding you is the person you came in with to the escape room.

Titanic AU! It doesn't have to be a ship. It's more about the experience of finding someone you can have fun with and liberate yourself from societal expectations. (If it comes to a table, there will be space for two).

The Lake House AU! If you haven't seen that movie, the idea is a place or object that connects two people from different periods. (I think Kimi no Nawa is like that, too?)

Emotional support muse!

Zombie AU, but the government is the one creating the zombies, the same that are inviting you to come back safe to certain facilities where safety is promised...

Traveling, traveling, traveling; anywhere your muse needs companionship!

Double agents AU.

Sugar daddy/baby AU.

(CW: Assassination, possible genocide) Autumn could be hired as a hitman or a sniper. A secret agent? He has no attachment to anyone or anything. He'll be loyal, except if the death of innocents gets out of hand.

(CW: Death, kidnapping, torture) Autumn has been hired to kidnap and torture your childhood friend or lover. Both your muse and Autumn had met before and were intimates too. Eventually, it comes to the death of either your childhood friend or your foe.

(CW: Mental illness/religion, murder) Hijo de la Luna AU. Parents muse believe they have made a deal with a deity. They'll be granted a kid in exchange for their souls. Ever since, they were obsessed with the day of their death. Eventually dying on accidents or natural reasons, muse is delusional and think the deity will claim him next. Paranoid, interactions with strangers are a threat.

(CW: Suicide, mental illness) Your muse wants to end their life by hiring someone who would shoot them. This will not end as they want to. Autumn will not only reject but stay there to support them.

(CW: Manipulation, psychological abuse) A few chosen ones must take care of a secret facility that provides "housing and coaching" to selected members of society. They are all being treated like lab rats.

(CW: Death, stabbing) Lovers to enemies. Either your muse or my muse gets stabbed after finding out they were used to getting something from one another. A relationship started with a lie and was held by lies. (It can end like Romeo and Juliette too).

(CW: Serial killer) If your muse has targeted men in their mid-twenties with no family or friends to miss them, choosing Autumn would end badly.

PS: The death of my muse is alright as long as it's been discussed.

[willowcrowned]

The Sugar Baby Ben AU

The premise: Obi-Wan and Anakin from the end of ROTJ get sent back to the Jedi Temple during TPM. Obi-Wan is confused, Anakin is confused, Mace Windu is very confused, and Vokara Che is also very confused. (It’s fine, it’s not like anyone relies on the Jedi for their intelligence anyways.) 

So what happens after they get where and who they are sorted out?

Well:

Anakin kills Sidious. He may be small, and blond, and just the cutest little kid, but he has several decades worth of fury directed at the man, and he’s still pretty much a Sith Lord (if a reformed one). It is very violent, and very worrying to anyone who sees it except for Obi-Wan. (In the absence of any convenient reactor shafts to toss the bitch down, Anakin resorts to a combination of lethal use of the Force and a blaster, just for good measure. They’re cleaning Sidious’s guts off his office carpet for years after the fact.)

Then, while the Jedi are trying to get a handle on the fact that (a) Sith exist, (b) time travel exists, and (c) the tiny adorable boy Qui-Gon Jinn brought back actually is horribly dangerous, Anakin runs off. He grabs his mother, slaughters a couple slavers indiscriminately, which Shmi feels obligated to chastise him for, even if she isn’t that horrified, and they go to Naboo.

To everyone but Obi-Wan’s surprise, Anakin lasts about two weeks on Naboo. A month or so later, the Jedi start hearing rumors about a small, dark-cloaked figure with a red lightsaber who leaves entire slave markets to burn. They don’t hear about the woman with him, who holds him back and calms his rage, who can stop her son when he needs to be stopped and hold him when he needs to be held. (Obi-Wan knows that she’s there anyways, and he sends her the number of a good therapist.)

So, what is Obi-Wan doing during all of this?

Short answer: scandalizing every jedi on coruscant

Slightly longer answer: scandalizing every jedi on coruscant by having ridiculous amounts of sex

Look at it from his perspective: he’s surrounded by that which he loves best, knows that the Republic isn’t doomed, and for the first time in twenty three years, he has a body— a twenty five year old body that looks exactly like a twenty five year old Ewan McGregor.

The thing is, while Obi-Wan looks like a twenty five year old Ewan McGregor (who is, if i may say, Peak Babie), he’s actually around sixty. This means that he’s not particularly attracted to any of the people his “age.” (Children, they’re all of them children. he’ll stop saying it when Vos stops acting like it.)

What does this mean?

Obi-Wan goes after milfs and dilfs and pilfs (parents id like to fuck) of ALL sorts. Ten legs and a tentacle? Amazing. Totally incompatible genitals? Time to get creative! Technically a plant? He can make it work. 

(Credit to @nevertheless-moving for having the obi-wan milffucker idea. she is a genius.)

Thing is, he’s not really having to look that hard. Tons of people live on the upper levels. And you know what people on the upper levels are like? Rich. Very rich.

(It’s worth noting that not a single one believes him when he says he’s a Jedi. Everyone knows that Jedi are dignified. Ben Kenobi, the kid who’s fucking his way through Coruscant’s upper social strata, is not necessarily dignified.)

(It’s also worth noting that none of them tell him that they don’t believe it. Maybe it’s a sex thing, who cares. He’s hot enough that his weirdness is charming.)

(Obi-Wan knows they don’t believe him. He’s waiting for the perfect moment to do a triple backflip out the window while igniting his saber. He’s only going to get this chance once, after all.)

Cue all the rich milfs and dilfs and pilfs giving Obi-Wan tons of expensive gifts. And, alright, the first few are nice; it has been so long since he’s had a bath, let alone a bath bomb, and this one has— wait, is that solid gold? But his apartment is only so big.

Initially, he gives the gifts to whomever he can foist them off on. The problem with trying to foist solid gold bongs or jeweled cock rings or whatever off on jedi is that even though jedi aren’t technically ascetics,  they’re still not that into pleasures of the flesh.

so Obi-Wan sells them on space ebay

(Another note: the people who check space ebay for scams flag obi-wan’s account multiple times, and every. single. time. he manages to prove that not only is he a real person, not only does he have the exact item he’s advertised, but that he is genuinely trying to get rid of his third diamond-encrusted collar of the week. the people at space ebay start asking if he’s got anything he wants to give them once a week. he always does.)

With the frankly obscene amount of money Obi-Wan is making off this operation, he decides to do a few things.

First and foremost: buy himself a nice stock of robes

Second: start pouring money into certain senators’ campaigns

Third: start buying and sending Anakin and Shmi gifts by way of guessing which Hutt they’re going to slaughter next and postmarking the box for Anakin and Shmi but sending it to the Hutt’s address

(Anakin is very touched. Shmi is very worried until she realizes that Obi-Wan is sending checks for Anakin’s therapy as well as hers in the gift baskets. Then she just enjoys them.)

So, on one end, you have Anakin and Shmi putting an end to brutal regimes on the Outer Rim, while bonding and going to therapy. On the other end, you have Obi-Wan funding every single political campaign that he has the mildest interest in while having incredible amounts of fantastic sex.

The Jedi are still confused, horrified, and a little bit angry— both at Anakin for being an Evil Murder Lord, and Obi-Wan for being so blasé about it

As it happens, one of Obi-Wan’s major interests is in decreasing the influence the Senate has on the Jedi. Unfortunately for the Jedi, this means less power.

One year to the day after Anakin and Obi-Wan go back in time, the Jedi Order officially establishes itself as an independent body, Anakin and Shmi finish installing their third democracy on a previously Hutt-owned world, and Obi-Wan is nearly assassinated, at which point he jumps out the window of the orgy he was just participating in, shirtless and brandishing a lightsaber. It becomes a national holiday.

The End.

(A final note: Obi-Wan tracks Maul down after a while, buys him a drink, and forces him into therapy. Maul starts leading whitewater rafting trips for money, and years later Obi-Wan runs into him again, shirtless and wet. They don’t sleep together, but it’s a close thing. After all, all’s well that ends well, and the galaxy is safe.)

[bonky-n-steeb]

honey,

there is no right way (iv)

summary || when you agree to be the feared mobster Bucky Barnes’ sugar baby, you expect to get enough money to pay your bills. what you don’t expect is to fall head over heels for him.

warnings || sugar baby au, mob! Bucky Barnes, unprotected sex, oral sex, soft missionary sex. SMUT. ANGST. FLUFF. (the holy trinity). MINORS DNI.

I have decided to not do taglists anymore, so if you wished to be notified of my newest updates please follow @bonky-n-steeb-lib and turn on the notifications!

* Feel free to send drabbles, requests or asks about this series!

Here, take your Christmas present :)

series masterlist

“Tell me what happened?” Wanda had been pressing for the details of yesterday’s date for the better of the last hour. She had dropped billy and Tommy off to school this morning and had come right at your bustling cafe.

“Wanda, how many times should I tell you? He took me to watch a movie in a drive in theatre. That’s all.” You weren’t at all angry at your best friend but instead you were loving the attention. A few years back, you had been the one pestering Wanda when she went on dates with Vision.

“That’s not all. I can see the way you’re smiling to yourself. I know that smile more than anyone. It crosses your face when you’ve had… a great dick.” Wanda replied slyly.

The cafe still had other people and Wanda was talking in a softer voice than usual. “Wanda! There are people in here.” You scolded her.

“Oooo… so something did happen. Well you promised to tell me, so tell me now.” She just wasn’t giving up. “Okay. So we didn’t have sex.” You said with a deep breath.

“But…” Wanda wiggled her eyebrows in excitement. “I can tell you that he’s really good with his fingers.” The next instant Wanda was howling and clapping her fingers. “Oh my god! I knew it!”

“Sshhhh… people are watching.” you shushed her. “Oh god, I’m sorry.” Almost everyone in the small bakery was staring at you two. “See, this is why we can’t have nice things.” You said as you placed the new batch of cookies on display.

“I’m so happy for you.” Wanda hugged you tightly and you hugged her back. Wanda was your friend who had been with you through thick and thin, like a lighthouse.

“Also, we’re going on a date tonight too.” By now Peter was besides you too as he was finally done frosting the cupcakes. “A second date? Tonight? What magic have you done on him?”

You chuckled at Wanda’s question. “I have no idea what he sees in me. Do you know when he first saw me? When I was fighting with Walker over money. He said I impressed him that day.”

“Now that’s interesting. But you gotta tell me what happens tonight because I’m pretty sure he’s gonna show you how good he’s with his….” She trailed off. Her hand was still leisurely resting on your shoulder.

“Wanda really? I hate you.” Your face was heated and you wanted to hide somewhere. Peter was trying his best not to laugh out loud and take care of the customers. “Awww… I love you too.” Wanda said grinning madly.

~~~

“Hello.” You answered the phone call with hesitancy as the number was a unknown one. The rush had now died down and you were sitting idly when the phone rang.

“Hello sugar.” Now that was enough to make you understand who was there on the other side. “Oh hey Bucky!” You replied with excitement.

Yesterday night when he had dropped you off at your house, you had punched your number in his mobile but had forgotten to ask for his in return. Though you honestly weren’t expecting that busy man to call you anytime soon.

“How is my cupcake doing today?” My cupcake! This man was out for your soul. Why was the name so cute and why did you love the way it sounded from his mouth?

“Well, today is going…. Ummm, kinda okay? Like I did pretty good business, I had my regulars plus a few extras, which is a good thing. But then there was this guy who ended up spilling a whole cup of hot coffee and it was a mess to handle and clean up.”

“Also there was this bitch who was acting so entitled. Like who do you think you even are. And I missed…..” you stopped midway as you realised you had just started ranting. “I must be boring you. I’m sorry I just went off like that.”

“No. You aren’t boring me at all. I did ask you how your day was, and I meant it. You can talk how much ever you want to talk to me and I’ll never be bored.” You smiled to yourself at his response. “That’s so sweet of you. But no, you must be busy.”

“You gotta start believing what I say. Because for any reason you start doubting me sugar, then that means I’ve gone wrong somewhere.” You were smiling so widely, your cheeks hurt. “You’re unreal.”

“I’m very real, sugar. Now please continue and tell me what you missed.” He chuckled. “Missed??.. oh about that. God Bucky, I almost forgot it myself. So, I was saying I forgot to have my breakfast this morning.”

“Why sugar? You shouldn’t be missing your breakfast.” His worry was eminent in his reply. “I’m a klutz, that’s why. I forgot to buy my groceries and had nothing in the fridge. No worries tho, I’ll buy them while going home.”

“Hmmm..” he seemed to be thinking something. “Anyway, where are you taking me tonight?” You were once again in the dilemma of what to wear. “I told you it’s a surprise sugar.”

“Bucky please. I’m really confused as to what to wear.” You complained into the phone. “Now that it’s up to me….” He trailed off with a hint of mischief. “Bucky, I’m serious. Tell me, pleasseeeeee…”

“Hmm… wear your nicest dress today.” wow, that was so helpful. “Okay.” You shrugged despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see you. “I can’t wait to see you.” Bucky could only imagine what you’d look like. “I can’t wait either.”

~~~

You had left your shop a little early to dress for tonight’s date. You probably trusted Peter too much. But till now he hadn’t given a single thing to doubt about him.

You were standing in front of the mirror, placing your dresses in front of you and checking which one looked the best when your phone ringed indicating a message.

Bucky: did Sam visit?

You: Who’s Sam?

You saw three dots indicating Bucky was typing, but before he could send the message, your doorbell rang. You couldn’t quite place who would it be, as you weren’t expecting anyone and it was too early for Bucky to come.

Placing the dress on the bed, you opened the door. “Umm hello?” You just peaked your head out while keeping majority of the door closed. “Hi! I’m Sam. Bucky sent me.”

You looked down to see Sam carrying two bags full of groceries. Though it was neatly packed, you could easily see some vegetables peak through the top. In the excitement of going on the date, you had forgotten about buying groceries for yourself.

“Ok ohkay.” You opened your door and let Sam in. He gave you a wide smile which you reciprocated before placing the bags on your counter.

“What is this for?” You knew what that was for, but still you had to ask. “Honestly, I don’t know. Bucky told me to buy groceries and deliver them to you. I don’t know the specifics of what you buy, so I just brought the generic stuff.”

“Woah… you didn’t have to do any of that.” You said shaking your head, but your heart fluttered with joy that Bucky paid attention to even meagre of your problems.

“So… how much was this?” You were about to go fetch your purse when Sam stopped you. “You don’t have to pay for anything.” You stopped to look at the grocery, it definitely wasn’t cheap. “Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure. Also, pro tip, you don’t have to pay for anything Bucky gives you. Anyway, I should go.” Sam said with a small chuckle. “Wait! It would be rude of me to not offer anything, so you want coffee? Tea? Anything else?” You were suddenly conscious of the state of your house.

“I’m literally dying to taste anything made by you again. But sadly, I’m a bit busy now so I have to leave. But don’t worry, one day I’ll come here to have a whole three course meal.” You had already started liking Sam.

“You’re always welcome here Sam. It was nice meeting you, and thanks for the groceries.” He saluted you as he walked out of the door. “You’re welcome. I look forward to meeting you too.”

You dialled Bucky’s number the moment you closed the door. “Hello!” His sounded chirpy. “Bucky what was the need for this? I mean, thank you for sending the groceries but there was no need. I would’ve bought them myself.”

“I told you I’d take care of you, so let me. You went to work hungry this morning and I don’t want this to happen ever again. If you ever need anything, all you have to do is tell me.”

With this explanation, there wasn’t a space to argue. “Bucky, are you in a kitchen?” You could hear sizzling voice in the background which clearly sounded like food cooking. “Umm,… yeah.”

He sounded as if he wanted to hide that from you, and you knew better than to dig into it. “Okay. I’ll see you in the evening then. Bye!” You once again went back to checking your dresses. “Yeah, see you then. Goodbye!” Bucky had big plans for tonight.

~~~

“That’s the road to your house!” You said as Bucky drove through the private road that led to his house. “Yeah, you guessed it!” Bucky said sarcastically.

“Okay, there was no need to be so secretive about it. You could’ve told me.” You had worn a simple yet elegant black dress which highlighted the parts you wanted to be highlighted.

“Yesterday when I took you to the theatre, your eyes widened with pure joy and a huge smile graced your lips. It was a mesmerising sight to watch and I wish to watch it again and again. So despite taking you home, I kept it a secret so that I could see that smile of realisation again.”

Your heart was thumping so loudly you feared it would burst. In just two days Bucky had managed to prove himself better than any other man you had known. “You’re unbelievable Bucky.”

“No I’m not. I just wish to be the man you deserve.” You were about to cry with all the emotions by all the emotions bubbling up. “Do you go to sleep by reading, ‘101 ways to be a perfect guy’?”

“I told you, I’m not perfect, rather far from it.” His eyes were twinkling in the moonlight as he traced your cheek with his finger. It was then that you realised that you had already reached your destination.

“Your house is… just gorgeous.” You said as you two entered his mansion. The last time you had visited, it was for business. But now that you were on a date, you gave yourself some time to look around keenly.

“But I think the house owner is even more gorgeous.” He jested. “Agreed.” You said cracking a smile. Bucky hooked his around around your waist and led to you towards a beautiful laid out table.

It was decorated with rose petals and a candle was gleaming in the middle. The ambience was on point to the date. “Bucky this is wonderful. Thank you!”

You didn’t know if Bucky was being this nice just till he laid with you or this was going to continue further. But honestly, you didn’t care. Even if all this care and adoration was for just two days, you’d keep these two days close to your heart.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything. You deserve all the pretty things in the world.” You couldn’t stop yourself as you leaned up and sealed your lips in a kiss.

Bucky’s flesh hand framed your cheek while his metal arm rested on your waist. His tongue licked your lips and you opened them giving him entry. You moaned as he licked into your mouth.

When you parted, you were sure your lipstick was either smudged or gone. But since Bucky was looking at you as if you hung the stars, you didn’t care for it.

You both knew that tonight you were going to end up in his bed. But before that, you had a dinner to eat. The moment the pasta was served into your plate, from the smell itself you knew it would be delicious.

You hummed as you took your first morsel. “Ummmm,, it’s absolutely delicious. I want to kiss the chef.” It was honestly better than any pasta served at high end restaurants.

Bucky still hadn’t started eating his food and was just looking at you to gauge your expression. And it was then that it struck you. The sizzling noises in his background on the call, his reluctance in telling you, him waiting for your approval.

“Oh my god, you’ve cooked this, haven’t you?” He smirked and nodded, as if he’d just got full marks on a test. “I can’t believe you’re this good at cooking. It seems I have a tough competition.”

“No no, you don’t. The only thing I can cook is pasta. And over the time I’ve perfected it is all.” He shrugged as if he hadn’t just cooked the best pasta you’d ever eaten. “Bucky, you and your surprises. Ufff, I can’t get enough of them.”

You spent the rest of the time chatting and giggling. Once again, unlike his usual stoic demeanour, he was relaxed and easy with you. It didn’t feel as if it was your second date, but rather it felt like you’d known each other for a long time.

“I think it’s time for the chef to get his promised kiss.” Bucky proclaimed once you were done with the dinner and dessert. “Aahhh, right.”

You got up and walked over to him. Bending down you went for his lips, but at the last moment, you turned your head and pecked his cheek.

“Hey, that’s not fair.” He complained as you laughed looking at his disappointed face. “I never said I’d kiss the chef on the lips.” The next instant, he stood up and crashed his lips into yours.

His hand held your nape as he deepened the kiss. You rubbed your hands over the expensive material of his suit and curled your fingers in it to pull him closer.

You gasped when you felt him squeeze your ass. “Bucky…” he left little kisses from your jaw to your neck. His eyes were hungry as they drank your form in.

“I think we should continue this in the bedroom huh?” His voice was dripping with lust. You nodded eagerly and he pulled you by your arm to walk upstairs towards his bedroom.

Once inside, he couldn’t stop his hands from wandering your body. His lips were either attached to your neck or your lips and you just relished the sensation.

His fingers found you the zipper of your dress. Opening it, his fingers traced your skin sending a ripple of shiver down your spine.

Once the dress was on the floor, the cold air of the night made goosebumps rise on your skin and you suddenly felt exposed. You were wearing your best set of lingerie and yet it somehow paled in front of Bucky’s beauty.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” He murmured in your ear as he pulled on the straps of your bra. “You… you don’t have to lie.” Your voice broke as you said. You were sure he had slept with actresses and models.

He stopped all his ministrations and looked in your eyes with more seriousness than he had since the day you met. “You don’t get to decide what I feel sugar. If I say you were the most beautiful that means you are the most beautiful. No arguments.”

You just stared at him with an awestruck expression; wide eyed looking up at his face like he ruled the world and parted lips just taking in the meaning of what he said.

“Bucky…” you didn’t really have anything else to say. Because you were afraid you’d either say too little or a little too much. So you expressed yourself the best way you currently could, by kissing him fiercely.

And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You wanted to say this aloud, but you stopped yourself. Instead, you shucked off his suit and started unbuttoning his shirt.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor when you saw his chiseled abs and hard pecks. He looked like one of those roman statues displayed in museums. Either created by Michaelangelo or someone of his likes.

“I’m literally out of words to describe how fucking good you look.” He smirked and bit his lip and your eyes followed his movements religiously. “There are other ways to show me than talking, sugar.”

Turning you around, he pushed you onto the bed. The mattress was unbelievably soft as you bounced on it. Bucky didn’t waste much time in getting out of his pants and crawling over you.

He removed your bra before fondling your breasts. You sucked in a sharp breath when he took your nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it.

After laving on the hard peak for a few moment, he let it go with a pop. His eyes were looking into yours as he trailed his kisses up to your core. Sensually, tugged off your panties and spread your legs.

Bucky lowered himself until he was right in front of your dripping wet pussy. Suddenly conscious of yourself, you snapped your legs closed. “What happened?” He asked, worried all of a sudden.

“Umm,, no one has done that before…” Bucky shook his head as if he was disappointed and you just hoped he wasn’t disappointed in you.

“Idiots! They were idiots, cupcake. I’m sure you have the sweetest pussy and I’m fucking honoured to be the first one to taste it.” He once again separated your legs and you let him.

The first swipe of his tongue on your throbbing pussy was literal heaven. His wet tongue and his warm mouth licking and sucking your sensitive core, was the thing you needed but never knew.

Now that you knew what it felt like to get eaten out, you wondered if you’d ever go without it. Bucky was very skilled when it came to using his tongue. He was flicking your clit, then fucking your hole with his tongue, and then sealing his lips around your nub and sucking.

Your fingers were curled in the bedsheets and your back was arched as Bucky kept licking all that you gave him. His hands were holding your thighs tightly to prevent you from wiggling away. “You taste so sweet sugar. Never gonna leave this pussy.”

“Bucky..!” Your hands tried holding on to his short hair, but it was too short to tangle with your fingers. You could feel the coil in your core tighten to its highest points and you knew you were close.

“… I’m gonna cum..” you had thought that Bucky would let up now, but instead he doubled down his efforts by adding his fingers. His fingers were pumping into you as he sucked and licked your swollen clit.

“Oh god! Fuck fuck fuck.. Bucky! Fuck…” your brain lost its filter when you came. He held you tightly as you squirmed beneath him.

When he got up, the lower half of his face was covered with your slick. He did a lewd display of licking his wet lips while staring straight in your eyes.

You were about to pull him back into the bed as he stepped out but you stopped complaining when he lowered his pants. “Good lord…” the words left your lips when you took in his hard length.

Bucky was very well endowed. He was thick and long with veins running up to its head which was glistening with precum. You couldn’t wait to have him inside you.

When he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his tongue. Bucky stilled when you pressed your fingers at his shoulders where the metal arm met flesh. That area was marred with scars and you traced as many as you could.

“You’re so beautiful Bucky.” Your eyes were locked into what could only be described as a loving gaze. In that single moment of intimacy and vulnerability, both of you were just two people trying to make their home in the other’s life.

Bucky needed to be close to you. And this wasn’t enough, he needed to be closer. You gasped when the head of his length entered you and he moaned when he was surrounded by your wet tight heat.

He went slowly until he was halfway buried in you, but then he just couldn’t stop himself and thrust all the way in in a single movement. “You feel so good sugar. So good. Fuck.”

His his were snapping up to you as his length speared your insides. You just clutched your hands around his neck and held him as he rutted into you like an animal in heat.

Your head was arched back into the pillows and your neck was bared for Bucky. He was constantly nibbling and sucking on the column of your neck and you shivered as his saliva cooled down.

“God.., fuck. Waited so long for this, sugar. Waited so long for you.” Your moans were muffled by his lips as he kissed you. “Can’t believe you’re mine sugar. All this sweetness, just for me.”

Tears were slipping past your eyes from the intensity of the whole thing. Your toes tingled and your eyes clenched shut as you came with a shout of Bucky’s name.

Seeing your writhe for him and they way you were clenching around, he wasn’t far behind either. Small trevors passed in your body as you felt him cum deep inside you.

Bucky circled his arms around you as you both panted and quivered around each other. When he pulled out, you could feel a trickle of cum leak out of you. “Bucky,…. Bucky, that was amazing.”

He lifted you up so that you were resting your head on his beating heart. You could clearly heart as his excited rhythm returned to a steady thumping, and at that moment, he was real.

You didn’t know of this was going to be your last time together and if Bucky went to the length of all those efforts just for one night with you, so you decided to bath in every second of his attention that he provided you.

His pupils were blown wide as he looked down at you. You looked like an Angel to him; the moonlight was blanketing your body and a small sated smile was stretched on your lips.

You were happy and satisfied because of him. You were looking up with fondness and devotion to him. And he was feeling more powerful than god at that moment.

Bucky saw the way your eyelids were fluttering close with exhaustion. He knew you were fighting to stay awake but soon you gave in to the sleep. Watching you sleep somehow felt even more intimate than sex. With your warmth covering his body, he too soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

[sopebubbles]

Chapter Nine

Summary: How many men will it take to save you? To be honest, you’ve gotten pretty used to saving yourself. Even though you’re far from a delicate thing, Los Angeles is a dangerous place you can’t seem to escape no matter how hard you try. The top 7 members of Bangtan should never have crossed your path, but they soon find they’d do just about anything to help you escape your past and make it safe for you to stay. But will you?

Genre: mafia au, poly ot7, angst, some smut, honestly a lot more fluff than i expected, POC reader/oc A/n: Thank you for your patience everyone! You're the best, most amazing angel baby sugar plum honey bunches of oatest with the mostest 🥺💕

Warnings: language, torture, scars from torture/branding, dissociation, nonconsensual kissing

Word count: 8.7K

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When your mind awoke, you could already guess where you were before your heavy-lidded eyes could even try to open. The telltale tug on your wrists and shoulders told you that you were strung up from the ceiling in Joaquin's house. At least you were resting on your knees, your upper body being held up by the ropes attached to your wrists instead of your entire body weight hanging—not that this was particularly comfortable either. Your legs screamed in pain, but you did not. 

Slowly, you forced your eyes open, blinking in and out of darkness. You almost admired the way Moreno was insane enough to torture people in a room with glass walls, so assured of his invulnerability. At least you had a view of the ocean and the full moon that glinted off the rolling waves. 

Your limbs still felt heavy and your mind cloudy like it did at the bar before you passed out. You tried to turn your body to look around, but you couldn't sense anyone else in the room with you. You wanted to stand up to relieve your upper body, but you just couldn't do it. After a few minutes of struggling to fully gain consciousness, of fighting to make your body do anything, your eyes closed again.

When you woke up again, it was because your hands were being yanked upwards, closer to the ceiling, pulling you to your feet until you were just on your tiptoes. It was still dark outside, but there were definitely people in the room with you now. You groaned.

"I'm sorry we had to bring you here like this, princesa. But you have not been obedient and now I have to punish you." 

You groaned again at the sound of Joaquin's voice. It was the most unpleasant sound you could have woken up to, and why was he speaking in English? You twisted yourself around in your toes to look at him where he stood across the room leaned over his desk, a blade and a phone on the surface in front of him. 

"I was wondering why you weren't taking my calls, but now I see you got a new phone. The latest model. Very nice. Is that all it takes to make you betray me? A few expensive gadgets?" Joaquin picked up the knife on his desk and walked around to where you were dangling. 

"I didn't!" You croaked out. 

He pressed the cold metal of the blade to your lips. "Shh, princesa." You whimpered, but kept your mouth shut. "You're supposed to be helping me, in order to gain your freedom, remember? Or is it that you don't want your freedom anymore, and you've finally accepted that you're mine." He slid the flat side of the blade down your chin. 

"I'm trying, Joaquin," you gasped. 

"What information do you have for me?"

"Nothing yet. I have to gain their trust before they'll give me-"

"Trust?" He interrupted. "Doesn't your lover trust you? Mm maybe not, since he gave you that ugly black eye. He must have been very upset with you for leaving. I can understand."

"Joaquin, please, it's only been a few days. I'll get you what you need. But if you keep taking me they'll only get suspicious." It was hard to reason with him as he continued to skim your skin with cool steel. "Do they already know that you're mine?" Joaquin asked before he pulled up your shirt. "Did he see my marks on your skin? Is that why he hit you?" 

You winced as he ran his rough hands over his handy work. 

"I think you need a reminder of who exactly you belong to, Yn. So you'll know, even if you leave, that you'll always be mine."

"No, don't. Please," you cried as you felt the sharp edge of his knife break the skin over your ribs, under your left breast. "I'm sorry," you sobbed. "I'll try harder. You don't have to-" you yelled as he made another cut. 

"You don't have to try anymore, princesa. I've decided that what's best for you is to stay here. It's just so much simpler." He wiped the blade on his pants and stopped to look at your face. "I thought this would be a fun game to play. But I've been missing you ever since you were here the other day, and I've decided I would rather have you back than a whole empire." He grabbed your jaw roughly. "You're meant to be with me, Y/n. It was always meant to be."

"No," you breathed as he kissed you. 

The door to the office opened and one of his henchmen stuck his head in. "Jefe," he said simply, getting Joaquin's attention. "There's a call from Tijuana."

"Tell them I'm busy."

"They said it was urgent."

Joaquin cursed under his breath, looking harshly into your eyes for a moment. He walked over to his desk and set his knife down. 

"Lower her down. I don't want to exhaust her. I'm nowhere near done with her," Joaquin instructed before he left the room. As soon as the door was closed the man brought you down to the ground low enough for you to sit on your haunches, and then he left too. You took a moment to catch your breath before you pulled yourself up to kneel, getting the rope to slack enough to untie yourself. Your ability to undo knots was one of your most useful skills, and one people never seemed to catch onto. It took a few minutes to work the ropes enough to get one hand free, but that was all you needed. Once you were free you pulled down your shirt, ignoring the sting as the fabric touched the raw edges of your wounds, and rushed over to the desk to retrieve your phone. You had only six percent battery left and you needed to make it count. After this you weren't sure how far back your trust with Bangtan would be set and you needed them more than ever. As quietly as you could, you pulled open the drawers of Joaquin's desk and looked for anything that might be useful. You found a folder labeled Triads and laid it out on the desk. You didn't have the time to analyze the information for what it was or even if it would be useful. The fact that you got it would have to be enough to win you points with Namjoon and Seokjin. Your battery drained to five percent and the phone informed you that you didn't have enough power to take pictures. Cursing, you turned off the device and slid it into your back pocket before closing the file and putting it back where you found it. 

You found your jacket you'd worn last night abandoned on the floor just as you heard voices return in the hallway, so you hurried to the door that led from the office to the terrace and wrenched it open. You could hear alarmed shouts from inside the house as you sprinted across the length of the house toward the ramp that led down to the beach, but you didn't look back. You just ran as fast as you could move your legs. It became harder as you reached the sand, but you pushed in, coarse grains scratching between your toes. Your legs burned. A bullet hit the sand a yard behind you, but you didn't quit running until you were at least a mile down the beach from his house. 

Your lungs burned and even though your mind told you to keep going, they couldn't. You collapsed on the shore, just a few yards from where the waves bathed the sand, and tried to catch your breath. You laid there for a few minutes before you forced yourself to your feet. You checked your phone, but it was dead and useless now, so you stored it away and began walking down the beach. The sky was beginning to lighten up in the east, and you weren't sure how long you'd have to walk before you found a way to get back to Beverly Hills. 

All seven men were back at Namjoon's mansion, but as a side effect of being drugged, the only one sleeping was Hoseok. The others were sitting with Namjoon, trying to get Jimin to find a way to get them past the gate of Joaquin's community without busting straight through it, which for Taehyung seemed like a reasonable option. Someone's phone rang and they scrambled to find their devices. When your name flashed on his phone, Namjoon answered it frantically. 

"Val?" He called out nervously before putting it on speaker. But there was no reply. "Val where are you?"

When a voice finally came through from the other end, it was Joaquin's, chastising you for not obeying his orders. Namjoon called to you again, but it was clear that although they could hear your whines and pleas, neither of you could hear him. All the men listened closely as Joaquin continued his menacing speech to you. They didn't know exactly what was causing your whimpers, but Namjoon, Taehyung and Yoongi all sat with clenched fists while he talked to you. Jungkook paced in the background. Only Seokjin and Jimin listened with any kind of calm.

Namjoon's heart sank when he heard you deny having information to share, and fell further when you mentioned a lack of trust. You did have information you could share. Maybe not much, but you could have told him something, anything you knew to make the man stop what he was doing to you. But you didn't. And what was worse, you worried that getting captured would make Namjoon take back the trust he'd already given you. 

Beside him, Seokjin rubbed his thumb and forefinger in small circles—a passive habit he had when he was listening and thinking. He stared blankly at the phone your voice was coming from. Truthfully, Seokjin hadn't fully formed his opinion of you. He certainly didn't trust you. And the information coming through from Malibu wasn't helping at all. Yes, you had told them exactly what deal you had made with Moreno as soon as you got to the mansion less than a week ago, but it didn't make your intentions any clearer. As far as he was concerned you were still a liability. 

While Moreno's words may have muddied the waters for Seokjin, they brought astounding clarity to Taehyung, who sat to his right. He flinched when Joaquin suggested that he was the cause of your black eye, but whatever your reason was, he didn't blame you for not correcting the assumption. Taehyung would never hit you, not before he knew who you really were and not now. But as he listened, he could hear just how much like your captor he sounded. He heard his words 'you belong to me' with so much more malice than he ever intended, but that didn't matter because he could understand how they must have sounded to you. And not just the other day but for weeks. The marks on your skin you never wanted to talk about were the physical manifestation of such wicked thoughts, and he finally understood.

Truly, the words of your torturer passed right through Yoongi's ears. Whether or not your intention was to destroy Bangtan was the least of his concerns. The only thing he heard were your whimpers and pleas for mercy that went unheeded. When you cried out from the pain of the blade, Yoongi shot to the edge of his seat, as if he wanted to reach out for you through the phone. From then on he was consumed by a singular desire to bring you back and patch you up; to make all the hurting stop, for good.

Jungkook was equally unconcerned by the words he heard. He didn't care at all what plots Moreno had against his family. He only cared that he already considered you part of it and that you were being hurt. As he paced, his only thoughts were how to kill the man who caused you pain. He could think of a dozen ways and he'd talk with Hoseok later about more detailed plans. When Moreno's conversation with you was interrupted and the line went dead with three dull beeps, Jungkook stopped the track he was wearing into the tile and stood behind Namjoon, hands rubbing at his lover's shoulders. 

"What do we do, hyung?"

Before Namjoon could answer, Jimin was already out of his chair and headed across the house to his basement lair filled with blinking computers and large monitors. He didn't know why he waited so long to act. He didn't need to listen to that whole call to know what he needed to do. Although Jimin had technically known you as long as Taehyung had, he didn't feel a particular attachment to you. Taehyung had kept you mostly to himself and Jimin honestly wasn't jealous. The time he had spent around you, he was much more focused on your friend. And even though he had no animosity toward you, Jimin was annoyed at the way you had treated Taehyung the last few days, so he'd been avoiding you. None of that mattered now though. He could read the room, and he knew how attached the others felt to you, so he knew he had to find you, and quickly. He only berated himself for waiting so damn long to do it. 

Namjoon took a deep breath as he watched Jimin's figure retreat from the room and placed a hand over Jungkook's. 

"We should do nothing," Seokjin answered before Namjoon could formulate a response. Four pairs of eyes ranging from shocked to irate turned to look at him.

"We can't do nothing, hyung," Jungkook nearly whined.

"Look, I know you've all grown attached to her, but you need to think clearly. You heard them. She's been trying to gain our trust to get information she can give to Moreno. We can't trust her. She's not one of ours, and we have no responsibility to do anything about this at all. She's with her family, where she belongs," he concluded coldly.

Seokjin had been raised by the top of the top in Bangtan's international syndicate, headquartered in Seoul. His loyalty to the organization came before (almost) anything else. And although bringing in outsiders wasn't impossible, it wasn't something he felt open to with you. Jungkook, Hoseok and Jimin were different. He knew where they came from and he could rely on their loyalty. You were still a mystery to him and your intentions too clouded.

Namjoon's hand clenched around the arm of the leather chair he sat on. "No." Seokjin raised an eyebrow at the leader. "La Familia is not her family. We can't let her stay with anyone who treats her like that. He's torturing her and she won't even give him the little information she has. We have to find a way to get her out of there."

The others made sounds of agreement as they looked back at Seokjin. Normally, the eldest's opinion carried a lot of weight, as much as Namjoon's when the leader was undecided, but in this instance he could see he was outnumbered. It wouldn't do him any good to try to stop them. He could only wonder what Hoseok would say, but that man was in Yoongi's clinic, sleeping off the effects of the drug he had been given, so he stood alone. 

Namjoon's phone chimed with a text message, and all the men except the oldest leaned in to find out what was going on. 

"Jimin wants us in the basement," Namjoon informed them as he stood up and all the others followed him. 

There were no lights on in Jimin's room, but it wasn't necessary with how large and bright his screens were. Each panel displayed different information. One showed a satellite view of a large beach front property. Another, the security camera view of a gated community. Others were running codes. On one screen was a mugshot and rap sheet of Joaquin Moreno, and beside it on another screen a picture of you, but one where you were clearly much younger. The five men gathered around while Jimin moved between windows with his mouse. 

"I was able to pinpoint the phone's current location to this house in Malibu. This is Moreno's compound. It's protected by the gate at the entrance as well as several cameras and armed guards. It has private beach access, but it would be a really terrible idea to go that way, since they'd see you coming from a mile away. I just connected to the front gate though, and I can open it with a click." Jimin demonstrated and they all watched the gate on the screen open to no one. 

"Can you get blueprints of the property?" Namjoon asked as he watched the satellite image of the complex, which couldn't be live because it was broad daylight.

Jimin turned to another screen and began to search while the others diverted their attention to various other screens. Jungkook read the information on display about Moreno, while Yoongi, Taehyung and Seokjin all had their eyes fixed on the older picture of you. It appeared to be a school picture, you were smiling awkwardly, and you couldn't have been older than fourteen.

"What have you been able to find about Y/N Y/L/N?" Seokjin asked suddenly.

Jimin shook his head, fingers never pausing. "Not much, honestly. Born April 19th, 2000, in Veracruz, Mexico. Mother, Juana Amaral, died September 12, 2004. I found some report cards. Not a great student. A missing persons report was filed in June 2015 for her and her father, but it doesn't look like it was ever investigated."

"The Cartel probably buried it," Namjoon mutters.

Jimin shrugs. "Most likely. There's nothing about her in the United States under her birth name or the alias she's been using. Moreno must have kept her under lock and key."

"She did say she didn't finish high school," Yoongi remembered.

"That would make sense."

"I got the plans," Jimin interjected, drawing Namjoon's attention away from your face. "Looks like there are entrances here, here and here. But they're all protected by a security system."

"Can you get past it?"

"I can try. But it's going to take me a little while."

"Send those plans to my phone. Taehyung, Jungkook, let's make a plan for how we're gonna get her out of there. Yoongi, get ready for us to bring her home."

Yoongi nodded and they all turned to leave, but found Hoseok standing in the doorway. "I'd like to go get her."

"Hobi, you're still not well," Seokjin said softly, affection coloring his voice.

"I will be fine. This is my fault. I need to bring her back." Hoseok looked determinedly at his leader, who looked at Yoongi.

"Let's go back up to the clinic and I'll get you on some fluids to speed up the process."

"Wait," Namjoon stopped them before they could leave. "We're going to bring Val back," he promised, looking around at his members. "And when we do, there are two new rules of Bangtan. Anyone who forces her into something she doesn't want will answer to me. And Joaquin Moreno will die before he ever touches her again." 

All his men nodded and began to disperse to prepare. "Figure out how to get us in there Jimin, we'll work out the rest."

After getting Hoseok back on the bed and hooked up to an IV to clear his system and replenish his body, Yoongi moved silently around the room, setting out supplies to heal your unknown wounds. He laid out a needle and thread, a mountain of bandages. Even without seeing his face, Hoseok could tell how worried the doctor was. He could see it in the way his head bent low and his shoulders sat high and tense. His hands shook as he looked at other instruments he had on hand. He didn't want to think about what injuries you might sustain before they were able to get to you.

"I'm sorry, hyung," Hoseok said softly, causing both Seokjin and Yoongi to turn to him.

Yoongi's face softened just a little at the younger man and he shook his head. "Stop blaming yourself, Hobi. It could've happened to anyone."

"But she's in danger because of me."

"No, she's in danger because Moreno is a lunatic," Yoongi corrected. 

Hoseok felt sick. "The things he did to her, hyung. He's ruined her. She told me about her scars-"

"We heard," Seokjin told him, threading his fingers into the slender man's hair. Hoseok's brow furrowed, making Jin sigh. "Moreno called us on Y/n's phone so we could listen to him torture her. He mentioned the scars."

"She prefers Val," Yoongi reminded him, looking away before he could see Jin's eyeroll. Hoseok stood up and tried to remove his IV, but Yoongi stopped him.

"I didn't think you cared so much, Hoseok," Jin said with raised brows. 

"We talked last night, while we drank," the younger man shrugged.

"And you believe everything she told you?"

He nodded. "She's so damaged, hyung. Just like me when you found me. You can't fake something like that."

"I'll put her back together," Yoongi mumbled under his breath. 

Hoseok looked sadly at the doctor. "She's going to need a lot of care before she'll believe she deserves it."

"One thing at a time. Get her back. I'll patch her up. Then we can do the rest," Yoongi muttered, looking at his tools. Hoseok merely nodded.

Seokjin's expression softened as he looked at his lover. They'd been together over a decade now, and he often forgot just how broken Hoseok had been in those early days, just how much he'd needed Jin and Bangtan. He was a different man now, one that the older male valued highly, both personally and for the organization. Hoseok was his advisor and confidant, and if he had decided to trust you—even if he wanted you—Seokjin would have no choice but to get on board. He placed a firm hand on his shoulder and a kiss on his forehead. 

"I guess I'll have to help her, too."

Hoseok smiled up at him and leaned into his side. "Thank you, hyung."

The sun had fully risen above the horizon by the time Jimin told Namjoon, Taehyung and Jungkook that everything was set for the break in. But Hoseok insisted that he was fine and wouldn't be stopped from going on the mission, so Jungkook stayed behind instead. 

They'd noticed that the signal on your phone had gone missing, though Jimin assured them it probably just meant your battery was dead. They had no way of knowing that you had already freed yourself. They couldn't know as they were speeding down the highway that you were passing them by in the opposite direction. 

You'd nearly passed out again by the time you reached a populated city center. You thought maybe you were hallucinating the taxi due to your exhaustion, but you managed to convince the driver to take you back to Beverly Hills. He was reluctant, given the state of you, but you promised him a big tip if he did. You had to fight to stay awake as he drove so that you could give him directions since you didn't know the address. When he finally pulled into the circular driveway, you practically fell out of the car.

"Hey lady, you owe me fifty-three dollars!" The man yelled at you as you stumbled to the door. 

"Just hold on a goddamn minute, hijo de puta," you mumbled under your breath as he idled behind you. You rang the doorbell an obnoxious number of times, but at least you got results. You nearly fell inside when Yoongi yanked the door open. 

"Val!" He reached out to hold you up. 

"Oppa. Can you?" You gestured back toward the taxi driver as you gripped your side. 

Yoongi looked panicked at your obvious pain, but if he wanted to take care of you he'd have to get rid of this guy first. "Jungkook, get her to my clinic, now," Yoongi instructed the larger man behind him as he walked out, patting his pockets for his wallet. 

Jungkook caught you just before you dropped, holding you bridal style in both of his strong arms. "Hey there, princess," he smiled down at you. 

"Don't call me princess," you groaned as he carried you into the house. 

Yoongi dug out a one hundred dollar bill and handed it to the cabbie without blinking. "Keep the change."

The man looked at the large bill in his hand as Yoongi walked away. "Um, I think your friend bled on my seat back there."

Yoongi nearly growled as he turned back to the man. He crumpled a fifty dollar bill and tossed it inside the open window. "Get lost." 

The man gave a satisfied smile and rolled up his window before driving away. By the time Yoongi got back inside and closed the door, Seokjin was standing in the foyer with a phone to his ear. 

"Get your asses back here. Val just walked in the front door," he informed them the moment Namjoon picked up. 

"Is she okay?" Hoseok asked. 

"Well she didn't look like she'd been for a walk in the park, but she’s still standing," Seokjin watched as Yoongi rushed past him to get to you. 

"How does she always manage to save herself before we can even get there?" Taehyung asked in astonishment. 

"She did say she's an expert in survival. She's been doing it since long before we came around," Namjoon noted. 

"Just get back here, alright?" 

"Yeah, we're turning around."

After he set you on the exam table Jungkook stepped away and looked at the blood on his hand from the spot where he held your side. "Val, you're bleeding," he murmured as Yoongi came into the room. There was a part of him that thought everything would be okay as soon as you were back in the mansion, that maybe the whole phone call was a bad dream, but the sticky red stain on his hand made it real. 

"I'm fine," you breathed, even as you swayed. Your face was pale, but Yoongi tried to stay calm.

"Where are you bleeding from, sweetheart?" he asked, hands anxious to grab the proper tools.

"It's okay," you insisted hazily.

"You will be, but I need to patch you up," he urged you gently.

"It's her left side, hyung," Jungkook told him as he washed his hands in the sink.

Yoongi went closer to examine your side, but there were no obvious signs in your all black clothing. 

"Can you take off your jacket and your shirt, sweetheart?" Yoongi asked softly, but you flinched. "I promise I won't hurt you, and it's nothing I haven't seen before. I need to see your wound."

You squeezed your eyes shut and lifted your hands to remove the jacket, but you didn't have the strength. "Jungkook?"

"Yeah," he responded quickly, eager to help. 

"Can you wait outside?"

Jungkook frowned, almost into a pout, but he nodded. "I'll be in the hallway if you need anything." With one lingering glance that you failed to meet, he went out and quietly shut the door. 

"Doc?"

"Hm?"

"Can you take it off for me? I can't…" 

Yoongi's lips pressed into a hard line and he quickly but carefully removed your jacket from your shoulders. He looked at you cautiously as he tried to think of a delicate way to remove your shirt. "Can you lift your arms?"

You shook your head. "Just cut it off, Doc. Can't wear it again anyway." 

Yoongi nodded and grabbed a pair of scissors. He tugged the bottom hem of your shirt away from your body and began to cut upwards until your shirt hung open. The fabric stuck to your side, but he could see the blood now. "This might hurt," he warned you before he peeled it away.

You sucked in a deep breath, but it wasn't for the pain. As soon as Yoongi pulled your shirt away he would see your scars, see what Joaquin had done to you and how broken you were. And he'd be disgusted by you. As he pulled the fabric down your arms to remove it from your body, you shut your eyes tighter, not wanting to see his reaction. If he had reacted at all, you didn't even hear an intake of breath.

"I'm afraid you're going to need stitches, sweetheart. I'll have to clean it first. I think it will be better if you lay down." 

His voice was calm and even, as if you were any other patient. It wasn't without great effort on his part, but it was easier on both of you if he acted as though that were true for the time being. He held your shoulders while you leaned back slowly, trying to hide your wince at the pain in your side. You weren't fooling him though. It must have hurt as you relied on your well-defined abdominal muscles to do the work for you. You let out a harsh breath and gasped for more once you were laid on your back. He worked quickly to clean your cuts gently with gauze and alcohol so you wouldn't suffer for too long. 

"I'm going to give you something to numb the pain."

"No! Don't knock me out, please," you begged, eyes closed the whole time. 

"It's okay, Val, I won't. It's just to numb the area where it hurts," he assured you before he began to dab topical anesthesia over your skin. The numbing took effect quickly and you finally felt like you could breathe properly. 

"Luckily for you, stitches are my specialty, so you just stay as still as you can for me, sweetheart." He did his best to smile at you, but you didn't see it. He got to work quickly and you were amazed you barely felt anything at all as he sewed you up. It felt like it took a long time, but after a few minutes you relaxed and just waited for it to be over. 

Yoongi did his absolute best to stay focused only on his task, thinking only of the bits of flesh he was piecing together and not the girl he adored who couldn't look at him. It was just two cuts, one about four inches long and another half that length. What made it tricky was where they met at a point. Judging by what he had seen on your back, Joaquin had been going for an 'M', a letter he seemed fond of. Now Yoongi understood what he had meant when he talked about 'reminders' and 'who you belonged to'. He thought he even saw an actual brand on your back just above your left hip. Yoongi was disgusted, but not with you. He felt awful for all the things you had suffered, but he could never hold those things against you or find fault with you for them. It didn't diminish you in his eyes one bit. It only made him want to protect you more, so while he worked he focused on deliberate, even breathing and keeping his face straight just in case you opened your eyes. He thought about trying to speak with you, like he would with the guys when they ended up under his needle, but he didn't think he'd be able to talk and keep it together. He also knew that if you were in the mood to talk you would be the one leading the conversation, trying to act tough and show how brave you were. He knew the kind of vulnerability you were showing by lying like this while he patched you up, and he didn't take that for granted. By the time he told you "all done," you were almost asleep, body and mind too tired to fight it off, but you shook yourself awake, finally opening your eyes as Yoongi put a fresh square of gauze over your wound and taped it down. His hands skimmed the cup of your bra and he felt his cheeks go pink, but neither of you acknowledged it.

"Stay there for a moment, I'll go get you a shirt," he said after helping you sit up. You nodded and waited patiently while he went to his bedroom behind the door at the back of the room. 

Before he returned the main door to the clinic burst open, and Hoseok came barging in. You stared at him with wide eyes as he took your head in his hands and his eyes searched your face. He found you distant and vacant, but you were sitting there in front of him and for the moment that was all that mattered. He didn't really think it through when he leaned down to kiss you, but his lips crushed warmly against yours, and you made a surprised squeak.

"Hoseok!" Namjoon barked, and the man stepped away from you as his high cheeks turned bright red. "What did I say earlier about not forcing her to do things against her will?"

"I'm sorry," Hoseok said to you, not Namjoon. "I'm just so happy you're back, and you're okay."

"Okay is a relative term," Yoongi interrupted angrily. "Everyone get out to give my patient some privacy." He held up an oversized black t-shirt in front of you while the others turned away, retreating into the hallway. 

"Thanks, Doc," you murmured as he slipped the shirt over your head and it engulfed you. 

"I'm gonna beat Hoseok," he muttered. 

"Isn't he a killer?" You smiled. 

"That doesn't mean I can't beat him."

You touched your hand to his chest, just over his beating heart. "I think you're more of a lover than a fighter, oppa. You should keep it that way." You moved to get off the bed but Yoongi put his hand on your shoulder. 

"You should stay here and rest for a while."

You shook your head. "I need to talk to Jimin, and then I want to go to bed."

Yoongi sighed, biting back the idea of sleeping on the bed in here. He knew you'd be more comfortable in your own room; he just wasn't ready to let you go. "Stay here, and I'll get Jimin. I still have a few things for you before you go." So once again you waited as he left the room. You stared blankly at the door and listened as different sets of feet shuffled up and down the hall.

"What do you need, Val?" Jimin asked, coming in quicker than you expected.

You felt around the back pocket of your jeans and pulled out your phone.

"I don't know how long they had it or what they might have done with it," you told him as you held it out for him. Both Jimin and Yoongi stared at the device, mouths open, while you waited for him to take it. "I don't know if they bugged it but it won't bite you."

Jimin huffed a laugh, taking the phone and trying not to think of the last call made on it. "I'll check it out."

"There are some pictures I took on there of some documents. Make sure they get to Namjoon and Seokjin."

Jimin looked surprised. "What are they?"

"I don't know. I didn't have time to look. I just know it has to do with the Triads."

Jimin nodded and rushed off as fast as he'd come. Yoongi filled his place, handing you one of his tiny cups of medicine.

"It's for the pain. The local anesthesia will wear off soon."

You looked at it briefly, about to argue that you didn't need it, but the truth was you didn't want to feel anything else today. You just wanted to be alone and leave your mind for a while. You'd been fighting it since you got in the taxi, trying to hold onto your body until you knew it was safe to let go. You considered asking Yoongi for some of those sleeping pills he'd given you before, but if you slept you couldn't control what you dreamed about, so you decided against it.

"Do you need…anything else?" He asked pointedly. You gazed at him blankly for a moment before you realized what he must mean. You shook your head at him, and he seemed to relax. You took the pills and swallowed them down.

"Can I go now?"

His heart broke at the hollow sound of your voice when you asked. He simply nodded. 

You slipped off the exam table and onto shaky legs. As you walked out into the middle of the house, you were sure the members were lurking around, but you couldn't seem to care. All you thought about was getting to a safe space alone. 

"You need me to take you up?" Jungkook offered when you got to the staircase.

"'M fine," you mumbled back and started slowly up the stairs. From a shadow where you could not see him, Taehyung frowned, and his heart broke further at the memory of having seen your cold vacant eyes once before. 

When you got to your bedroom in Namjoon's mansion, you had no intention of sleeping. You couldn't let yourself, no matter how exhausted you felt, but you wanted to be alone, so you went out to the balcony to sit in. You shouldn't even be here, you told yourself. You didn't belong here. There was only one place you belonged or ever could and you'd just escaped it. Maybe you shouldn't have. Sure, you needed to get those pictures to Namjoon, but you didn't belong here. You shouldn't be here. How many times was Joaquin going to have to remind you of that before you got the message? You pulled your knees up to your chest, curling in on yourself as you let your mind wander away from you until it felt very quiet and you let hours pass you by as you watched the treetops over the neighborhood sway in the breeze. 

You were completely dead to all that passed in the house, even when Jimin came knocking at your bedroom door. When you didn't answer he let himself in. He felt even more confused when you weren't in your bed like he expected, so he peeked in the bathroom, but you weren't there either. Finally, he noticed the door to the balcony was cracked open. 

"Val?" He questioned as he poked his head outside, but you didn't appear to hear, lost in your own world until he touched your arm lightly. 

You jumped a little, your head turning to look at the hand that had disturbed you. You followed it up his arms where his sweatshirt sleeves were pushed up until you met his eyes.

"Have you been crying?" He asked softly. 

If you were, you didn't know it. You lifted your hands to your cheeks but they weren't really wet anymore, although there were probably dried tears there. 

Jimin cleared his throat when you didn't say anything, then he dug into the front pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled out your phone. "You can have this back. It doesn't look like they did anything to it," he informed you as he handed it over. "I printed off the pictures and gave them to Namjoon, so you can have it back. I charged it up, too."

"Thanks," you murmured, looking at the black screen. "Were the pictures anything useful?"

Jimin nodded almost imperceptibly and hummed. "You should come down, they want to talk to you."

You frowned. You weren't really in the mood to talk to anyone, but you didn't seem to have much of a choice. "Can I have a few minutes?" 

Jimin nodded and turned toward the door. "Don't take too long," he smiled before he went inside.

You went to the bathroom and washed your face, brushing your teeth and your hair too, once you realized what a wreck you looked. You wish you'd taken a shower, but you couldn't do that now—you knew you'd just get lost in the water, plus you'd have to change your bandage. It would have to wait. You settled for changing your pants. You left Yoongi's shirt on though. You didn't know what the smell was, but it felt warm and comforting. You stood staring too long at the bags under your eyes and the frown lines around your mouth until you finally forced yourself to go downstairs. 

You were heading straight for Namjoon's office when you heard your name called from the dining room—a room you'd never been to before. Many voices filled the room as you came closer. Jungkook and Jimin were still moving around, but everything seemed to settle around the long dinner table just as you stood in the doorway. At either end of the table sat Namjoon and Seokjin, and if you didn't know, you wouldn't be able to tell which was the head. To Namjoon's right, Jungkook was taking his seat. A place was open, presumably for Taehyung, and beside that Yoongi sat on Seokjin's left. To his right was a Hoseok who was looking lighter than you had ever seen before. On his side was Jimin and, between him and Namjoon, another empty space without a place setting.

"Won't you join us, Val?" Namjoon asked, somehow finding the perfect balance between politeness and familiarity. The offer was warm, but not insistent.

"You can sit here, Val," Jungkook smiled, gesturing to the empty chair between him and Yoongi.

Your brow furrowed. "Isn't that Taehyung's seat?" 

"No, Taehyung's seat is over here." Jimin draped his arm over the empty chair to his right. 

"Taehyung won't be joining us tonight," Namjoon said quietly, trying not to sound serious, but failing. 

"Oh," was all you could respond. "I thought we were going to talk about the pictures."

"We will, in a little while. Right now we just want to eat," Namjoon smiled.

Why was he acting like this was normal? You'd never even seen them eat together since you got there, much less been asked to eat with them, other than the night you had pizza with Jungkook, Hoseok and Yoongi. You noticed the latter watching you for the first time. 

"You haven't eaten all day," Yoongi commented when he could tell you wanted to refuse. 

"I'm not that hungry," you admitted, but you took the seat that was offered anyway. 

"Just eat some rice," Yoongi whispered to you.

"You all seem happy. Are you celebrating something?" You asked quietly as the men started picking up food with their chopsticks. Beside your bowl of rice was a set of metal chopsticks that you looked at nervously. You'd used chopsticks before, but never without embarrassing yourself. Thankfully someone had the foresight to give you a fork as well, even though no one else was using one. 

"It's a good day for Bangtan, thanks to you, Val," Seokjin smiled at you. It wasn't unusual for him to smile at you, but usually it was a diplomatic one, or perhaps a bit mischievous. This one seemed genuinely happy, and with you, no less.

"What did I do?" You asked, eyes wide as you looked from one end of the table to the other. 

Namjoon swallowed and cleared his throat, placing his chopsticks down before he spoke to you. "The pictures you took had information regarding the locations of the Triads' warehouses, some of which we did not know about. We will be putting together a plan of attack once we get some other matters sorted out, but for now this is a big win for us. So, thank you, Val." Namjoon gave you a genuine smile as well.

You pursed your lips as you thought. "There were other papers in that file. I couldn't get pictures of them because my phone died. Maybe I could go back and-"

Namjoon shook his head at you. "You've done more than enough, Val. It was a big risk even for you to do that. You didn't have to, but you did. I'll never ask you to do anything like that for us."

"But I-"

"You're safe now, here with us. I hope you never go back there," Namjoon continued. 

Your eyes felt hot, stinging with tears, so you looked down at your food instead. Only now it wasn't just a bowl of plain rice. There was a small piece of what you guessed was fatty meat resting on top. 

"It's pork belly," Yoongi smiled, leaning over to you. "It's kind of like bacon, but better."

You looked at it curiously before you speared it with your fork and put it in your mouth. The warm piece of fat practically melted over your taste buds.

"Oh my God," you moaned, catching everyone's eye before they started to laugh. 

"Here, try this," Yoongi smiled as he placed a piece of chicken in your bowl. "It's dak galbi."

You tried to repeat his words before you tasted the meat. "That's so good," you moaned after chewing.

"If you're staying, you'll have to learn to use chopsticks," Hoseok teased as Yoongi placed yet more food in your bowl, smiling incandescently at you.

You snorted. "I don't think I'll be staying that long."

"Nonsense," Namjoon interjected between chewing and a drink of water. "You can stay here as long as you want or need."

"Oh, I don't –I mean, you don't have to…" The steady, meaningful look Namjoon gave you silenced you.

"You have nowhere else to go that's safe. You can stay here until that's no longer the case." You swallowed, feeling the heaviness of his words, so he hastened to add, "You're not a prisoner though. If you want to leave, you can. You just don't have to."

The air filling the room started to feel a little awkward as you and Namjoon looked away from each other. Lucky, Jimin stepped in.

"Show her how to do ssam," Jimin said with a full mouth. 

Jungkook hummed excitedly as he chewed and then swallowed. "This is ssam," he told you, holding up a perilla leaf and you repeated the word. "This is ssamjang." He spread a red paste in the center of the leaf.

"Ssamjang."

"Mhm. Then you put whatever in it. You want dak galbi?" You nodded excitedly and Jungkook smiled his bunny smile as he placed a large piece of chicken in the center of the leaf. Then you watched as he expertly folded the leaf into a small wrap and held it out for you. You took it gently from his hand and didn't hesitate to shove the whole wrap into your mouth. You hummed appreciatively as you chewed, making everyone laugh again.

"Think you can make your own?" Jungkook asked.

"Yeah. But I don't think I remember all the words," you giggled.

"I'll help you," Yoongi encouraged, over the moon to see you enjoying yourself.

"Thank you, oppa," you smiled back.

Namjoon choked on his water and set the glass down heavily on the table. "Oppa?" He coughed.

"Looks like Val is learning all kinds of words," Jin smirked.

"Before long she'll know so much Korean we won't be able to talk in code around her," Hoseok added.

You blushed and turned to the food in an attempt to ignore their teasing. You felt lighter because everyone at the table was being so nice to you. But you still felt a sadness that wouldn't stop tugging on you, like a child pulling on your shirt, demanding to be acknowledged. Maybe it was just that everything was so new, with no way to trust it. Maybe it was the Taehyung-shaped hole at the dinner table, missing out on the moment of joy because he couldn't stand to be around you. Maybe it was the voice whispering in the back of your head that you didn't belong here, that you belonged to someone else. But you tried to push it back, to listen to Jimin talk  about the K-Drama he was currently binging and whatever other mundane things they found to talk about while Yoongi helped you fill yourself on delicious food.

"Are you eating too? Or just giving all your food to me?" You asked him quietly while Jimin and Seokjin debated something you couldn't follow as their Korean leaked into conversation more and more. 

"I'm full just watching you eat," he replied with warm eyes and a smile.

"Well, I'm actually full, so you should eat," you encouraged him, returning his warmth. 

Taehyung sat in the corner at the end of the bar with a whiskey in his hand. Namjoon always liked there to be someone he could trust, a member of the inner circle, at the club in the evening, and even though he intended to go later, Taehyung had volunteered to go early. He couldn't look at you right now. But that was his fault, not yours.

Ever since he heard the things Joaquin was saying to you when he held you prisoner, Taehyung couldn't stop going over every detail of your relationship. He replayed every word he'd said to you and imagined how you must have felt. When he called you his. When he said you belonged to him. He'd never truly meant it in that way. He meant he wanted you and he didn't want others to have you. But now even those thoughts made him sick with himself. What right did he have to claim any part of you?

And then there were the scars. He had respected your boundaries when it came to them. You would get very upset if he tried to remove your shirt, so he left it…except that last time you were together. He'd never gotten a good look at any of them, though he had felt some. He knew they were all over your back, even if it wasn't a very large canvas. He didn't want to imagine what you must have endured to receive them. Yoongi had been shaken up after you left him, and Jungkook pressed him to talk about your scars, even though Hoseok asked him not to. Yoongi couldn't help it; he couldn't seem to bear it on his own. Cuts made all over your back, big and small, marks of one man's vanity and cruelty that would never leave you. Taehyung didn't want to leave you either, but he didn't deserve you after the way he'd treated you, and how you must have felt. He couldn't blame you for wanting nothing to do with him. 

Jimin could tell that—unlike you, hours earlier—Taehyung was burdened by too many thoughts when he reached out to put a hand on the man's shoulder. 

"It's not good for your health to think that hard, Taehyungie," Jimin chuckled as he sat on the stool beside him. Taehyung's frown deepened. "She looked alright at dinner."

"Good," Taehyung mumbled back, barely there. 

"She asked about you."

Taehyung waved his hand as if to brush the words away. "I don't want to know. I wish she wouldn't think of me at all. Wish she'd never met me."

Jimin sensed perhaps his partner had had enough to drink for the evening. "You still love her, Taehyungie."

He nodded. "She deserves someone who will love her better."

Jimin pondered if he should say the thought in his mind, and as usual, decided he should. "You know, I think Yoongi has fallen for her already, too."

"And Jungkook and Namjoon and I think Hoseok too." Taehyung sighed. "They'd all be better for her than me. She deserves all of them."

"Careful what you say, that may come true."

"She needs to be taken care of, Jimin."

Jimin took a deep breath and ruffled the hair at the back of Taehyung's head. "I'm sure she will be. And I'm sure you can learn to love her better." Taehyung merely shrugged. "If it's any consolation, I don't love her."

Taehyung downed what was left of his drink and then turned to Jimin and gave him a hazy smile. "You might."

Jimin shook his head, pushing Tae's hair back off his forehead and smiling sadly at him. "I think you've had enough for tonight. Let me take you home and take care of you, yeah?"

"Can't go home," Tae slurred.

"Yeah, you can. She already went to bed before we left. And I'll take you down to my room, okay? She won't see you, I promise."

"Good," Tae mumbles as he lets Jimin pull him from his barstool and straps his arm over his shoulder. "She hates me."

"I don't think that's true, baby. I think she's just messed up," Jimin admitted as he led Taehyung away from the bar. 

"I miss her," he whispered. 

"Don't worry, Tae, baby. You'll find your way back."

<-previous | master list | next->

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[sugamamacustard]

🍢 🍡 (A/B/O) Menu 🍡🍢

My A/B/O verse ↦ Here! My rules ↦ Here!

Appetizer (🍚)= Angst Dessert (🍪)= Fluff Breakfast (🥞) = Social media! AU Lunch (🍙) = non-specified AU! (Other than social media; Mafia! Werewolf/vampire!, angel/demon!, etc) Supper (🍘)= Smut/ NSFW Happy hour (🍸) = Yandere Specials (🍮)= My personal favorites 🍡 🍡 🍡 🍡 🍡 🍡 🍡 🍡 🍡 🍡 🍡 🍡 🍡 Order up!

↳Reach so high ( 🍪)

Summary: You’re used to the world around you not being kind to the vertically impaired, but you and you’re alpha get through it.

Ingredients: Alpha! Tendo Satori, Alpha! Nishinoya Yu

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳ Sweet Little Chick ( 🍸, 🍙(Mafia! AU))

Summary:  The Karasuno Crows fell to the will of one person and one person alone. You were expected to do the same to the mama crow.

Ingredients: Alpha! Mafia boss! Sugawara Koushi

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN-- But Reader ends up in a dress and thigh highs, so take as you will)

↳ Come see me (  🍚, 🍪, 🍮 )

Summary:  Being a manager for Nekoma was a thankless job, but one you were proud to do. You were surrounded by alphas who wanted what was best for you and in turn, you wanted what was best for them. However, sometimes what’s best for them…may not be best for you or your omega.

Ingredients: Alpha! Tetsuro Kuroo

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳ Knock me out ( 🍪)

Summary:  When your omega demands to see your alpha, you can’t help but oblige, but unfortunately, someone else see’s you before he does.

Ingredients: Alpha! Hajime Iwaizumi

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳ Fire man ( 🍘 )

Summary:  Your heat hits unexpectedly and it’s up to your alpha to help you through it. How is he doing it?

Ingredients: Alpha! Tetsuro Kuroo, Alpha! Toru Oikawa, Alpha! Kotaro Bokuto

Serving: Omega! Reader (Fem!)

↳ Double Trouble ( 🍪)

Summary:  Inarizaki is known for many things above the surface, but only few know what great treasure lies deep within the pack.

Ingredients: Alpha! Osamu Miya, Alpha! Atsumu Miya

Serving: Omega! Reader (Fem!)

↳ Level Headed ( 🍪, 🍘,  🍮 )

Summary: Betas were known for one thing and your alpha loved you all the more for it. So he shows you his gratitude.

Ingredients: Alpha! Hajime Iwaizumi

Serving: Beta! Reader (Fem!)

↳ Please don’t let me go ( 🍚, 🍪 , 🍘 , 🍙 (Shifter! AU))

Summary:  You were excited when the other packs joined yours, even finding solace in one of the alphas of one, but suddenly, you weren’t needed. Wanted. Not what he desired. And that hurt. So you do the only thing you can think of. Try to find someone who will comfort your poor omega heart.

Ingredients: Alpha! Kuroo Tetsuro

Serving: Omega! Reader (Pretty GN, but I said the word c*nt, so take it as you will)

↳ Please don’t let me go (Part 2!)   ( 🍪 , 🍙 (Shifter! AU))

Summary:   Thanks to Kuroo, your place in the pack has been cemented. But what made it waver in the first place? How can the rest of the pack change what has already happened.

Ingredients: Alpha! Kuroo Tetsuro

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳ Feral animal ( 🍪, 🍮 )

Summary:  You just wanted to get the boys to practice on time. You weren’t prepared to deal with this.  Good thing you had a guardian angel- or should we say, dog.

Ingredients: Alpha! Kentarou Kyoutani

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳ One more time ( 🍪, 🍮 )

Summary:  You loved your small little family, but your alpha felt there was something missing.

Ingredients: Alpha! Toru Oikawa

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN, but a baby is born, so take it as you will)

↳ Puppy ( 🍘, 🍮)

Summary:   It wasn’t supposed to hit you as hard as it did, but when your heat came and blindsided you, you were left staggering for a way out. Luckily, your alpha knows you better than anyone else.

Ingredients: Alpha! Kentarou Kyoutani

Serving: Omega! Reader (Fem! Reader)

↳ Two for one special ( 🍪 )

Summary:  You weren’t even a manager. You were a medic for the Nekoma team and yet, you still caught they of not one, but two, powerhouse alphas. What could go wrong, right?

Ingredients: Alpha! Satori Tendo, Alpha! Yuu Nishinoya (Poly)

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳ Rut ( 🍘)

Summary:  You and your alpha have been through so much together, but how are the reacting when their rut hits?

Ingredients: Alpha! Tetsuro Kuroo, Alpha! Atsumu Miya, Alpha! Kiyoomi Sakusa

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳ Helping hand  ( 🍘, 🍙 (Mafia! AU))

Summary:  You were always so good for your alpha. There are some things that fall out of your control however, things that may put a wrench in your good behavior.

Ingredients: Alpha! Mob boss! Kenma Kozume

Serving: Omega! Reader (Fem!)

↳ Spare some?  ( 🥞, 🍘 , 🍮)

Summary:  You simply ask for Daddy’s Cummies. How are these alphas reacting?

Ingredients: Alpha! Satori Tendo, Alpha! Toru Oikawa, Alpha! Wakatoshi Ushijima, Alpha! Kenma Kozume, Alpha! Yu Nishinoya, Alpha Keiji Akaashi

Serving: Omega! Reader

↳ Let me help you ( 🍚, 🍪) (Now with Part 2!)

Summary:   Because of unseen circumstances, you drop, and you drop hard. How does your alpha help you/redeem himself?

Ingredients: Alpha! Toru Oikawa, Alpha! Hajime Iwaizumi + Part 2 includes Mattsun and Makki.

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳ All Mine (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 ) ( 🥞, 🍪, 🍮)

Summary:  You alpha sees someone flirting with you, he’s not happy/ This time you see someone flirty with your alpha and your not happy.

Ingredients: Alpha! Hajime Iwaizumi, Alpha! Issei Matsukawa, Alpha! Tetsuro Kuroo, Alpha! Osamu Miya, Alpha! Atsumu Miya, Alpha! Suna Rintaro

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳ After hours ( 🥞, 🍘)

Summary:   Some spicy messages between you and your alpha~

Ingredients: Alpha! Atsumu Miya, Alpha! Osamu Miya, Alpha! Wakatoshi Ushijima, Alpha! Kentaro Kyoutani, Alpha! Rintaro Suna, Alpha! Eita Semi

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳ Keeping you close ( 🍪, 🍘)

Summary:   Your alpha catches some low-bit, pathetic excuse of an alpha trying to get with you and he’s determined to but a stop to it.

Ingredients: Alpha! Rintaro Suna

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN, until the smut)

↳ Lips like Sugar~ ( 🍪, 🍘,🍙(Sugar Daddy! AU))

Summary:   Toru Oikawa had no qualms about paying a pretty little thing to hang off his arm, but he expects you to be at his beck and call for the price tag you come with. And if you aren’t? He’ll put you back into your place real quick.

Ingredients: Alpha! Toru Oikawa

Serving: Omega! Reader (Fem! Reader)

↳ Back me up ( 🍪)

Summary:   Pregnancy can bring out both the best, and worst, in any and all alphas, and yours is no exception. Life, however, is unpredictable in every sense and sometimes, the worst and best parts get melded into one– and make you fall in love with your alpha all over again.

Ingredients: Alpha! Kotaro Bokuto, Alpha! Wakatoshi Ushijima

Serving: Omega! Reader (Fem! Reader)

↳Baby, it’s cold outside ( 🍪)

Summary:  After waiting for your parents to come pick you up, only for them to never come, you can’t seem to get warm. Lucky, for you, your alpha is there to help you get warm!

Ingredients: Alpha! Takanobu Aone

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳Kiss it Better (🍪)

Summary:   You love spending time with your alpha in the kitchen, unfortunately it’s a little bittersweet for him.

Ingredients: Alpha! Osamu Miya

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳Again ( 🍘,🍮 )

Summary: How much can you take before your alpha breaks you?

Ingredients: Alpha! Tetsuro Kuroo

Serving: Omega! Reader (Fem! Reader)

↳Feed Me ( 🍪,🍮 )

Summary: Some times, people do things because it’s what they think is best. You don’t tell your alpha about some weight gain you’ve noticed, and try taking care of it yourself because of this.

Ingredients: Alpha! Keiji Akaashi, Alpha! Wakatoshi Ushijima, Alpha! Rintaro Suna

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳ Day and Night (🍘)

Summary: How do you and your gamer alpha spend heats and ruts?

Ingredients: Alpha! Kenma Kozume

Serving: Omega! Reader (Fem! Reader)

↳ Crash Course(🍪)

Summary: The relationship between Iwaizumi and Oikawa is always a confusing one. No one is quite sure what it is and where exactly you fall into it. Well, you guys do and that’s all that matters.

Ingredients: Alpha! Hajime Iwaizumi, Platonic! Alpha! Toru Oikawa

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳✨Intimidating✨(🍪)

Summary: Alpha’s are scary creatures. Going up to them is scary, and honestly, you were never sure you would ever be able to look one in the eye. Unfortunately, your omega was dead set on one particular alpha– one who seemed so much more intimidating than any other alpha you had seen before.

Ingredients: Alpha! Issei Matsukawa, Alpha! Satori Tendou

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN)

↳✨Daddy cats✨ (🍪, 🍘)

Summary: What’s life like with not one but two alphas at your beck and call?

Ingredients: Alpha! Kenma Kozume and Alpha! Tetsuro Kuroo (Poly)

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN until the smut, then it's fem! Reader)

↳✨Olympic level✨( 🍪)

Summary: Sometimes your air-headed alpha makes you question your sanity. Luckily, you have some back-up to get him back in line.

Ingredients: Alpha! Yu Nishinoya

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN!)

↳Time Bomb ( 🍚,🍮,🍙(Non! A/B/O) )

Summary:  Anger is an ugly emotion and can bring out the worst in all of us. Mid-argument, it pushes your boyfriend into dangerous waters, threatening your very relationship. Is your relationship strong enough to survive?

Ingredients: Koushi Sugawara, Wakatoshi Ushijima

Serving: Reader(GN!)

↳Paparazzi ( 🍪)

Summary: Fangirls are nice, yes, however they tend to get in the way of simple things such as passing your classes. You won't take their harrassment laying down though.

Ingredients: Alpha! Toru Oikawa, Alpha! Yuji Terushima, Alpha! Atsumu Miya

Serving: Omega! Reader (GN!)

More to come!

[sukirichi]

earned it [01]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it.  But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

request. (mafia au, sugar daddy au) + (dumbification, praising kink)

cw. smut, overstimulation, slight dumbification, praising kink, slight degradation, spanking, belt whipping, explicit murder, rough sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), multiple sex scenes, riding, slight angst, veryyy unedited, sex when standing up, sex in pretzel position, dom! gojo, manhandling

notes. 🦋 anon, thanks so much for the request! i hope you love this one, i absolutely poured my heart and soul into this! minus the effort to edit, i’ll just edit this when i’m no longer sick lol

series masterlist

There he was again.

Working in a high-class restaurant located in the heart of the city meant you were no stranger to seeing people of power and titles, but he never failed to make everyone stop in their tasks every time he came around.

You don’t know his name, much less his usual orders since his usual table – middle 98 – wasn’t in your rotation. But you’re held captive in his presence, attention drawn to his broad shoulders clad in what seemed like a hand-stitched three piece suit, his striking white hair falling down in smooth tendrils. There’s something about the way he walks – confident doesn’t begin to describe it – that makes everyone surrounding him feel like they’re merely spectators to the enigma that was him, and he carries this observation proudly in his shoulders, that mischievous smile never absent from his face.

Your co-worker tugs at your sleeve, nearly knocking the empty wine glasses away from your tray. Barely catching them as you falter, you bow down to them in apology. No matter how intriguing the mysterious midnight comer was, you were still working. You needed to keep your head focused and in the game.

Hours pass by of shifting from one table to another, your hands beyond cramped from scribbling down such intricate orders. It’s a miracle you were hired in a place as luxurious as this in the first place when you couldn’t pronounce, much less spell the main dishes, but you proved through determination and hard work that the miracle was also accompanied by your grit. It didn’t matter that you were the youngest part-timer with little to no experience – unexpected things always happened when you’re backed in a corner, leaving you with no choice but to follow through.

This corner was nothing less than the struggle to make ends meet. While you’re lucky to have gotten accepted in one of the top state universities, there still came the issue of tuition fees, plus dorm occupations.

You don’t have the privilege to complain or whine that your experiences are probably not on par with what they expect of you, so you have to do your best; you have to keep pushing no matter how hard it gets and you’re barely awake for class the next day.

Clocking out, you bid goodbye to your co-workers and thank them for their hard work, about to leave through the back door when you hear his voice.

Your gaze lands on him from outside the kitchen, body twisted in the direction of where he sat, long legs crossed one another. He’s thanking the waiter for the wine, and you wince, because it isn’t just any wine. That’s one of the drinks locked in the special cellar because of its hefty price, yet there he was, swirling the red liquid around in his glass as if the amount of zeroes never bothered him. He’s reading something from his tablet, head tilted to the side as he drinks, and that’s when you see it.

It’s so miniscule you would’ve believed it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you, but you’ve seen in this class during one of your laboratory practices, the burn marks on your wrist a painful reminder of your carelessness.

Your boss’ shouts of warning fall onto deaf ears as you push past the double doors, feet moving on its own. The edge of the glass makes contact with his lips, gray lashes flattering across his cheeks, while time and sound becomes nothing but background noise to you. Your cry is inaudible when your hand pushes the glass away from his grip, the sounds of it shattering into pieces like a wake-up call to both of you.

For the first time since you’ve met him, the faintest look of surprise crosses over his face. His hands remain into a reflexive hold of the now missing glass, azure eyes cutting through yours.

You bow down to apologize – you can’t believe you’ve just done that and how his suit was stained and his pants soaked – but the words that left his lips stun you beyond disbelief, effectively freezing you in your state. His voice holds the same iciness as the blue of his pupils, but to you – just for you – there’s a tinge of awe behind them.

“Odd,” he says, “To think my life would be saved by you.”

You wake up with a gasp, hands clutched on the blanket covering your bare frame. There’s sweat forming on your hairline as you look around, wincing at the sliver of light passing through the curtains. Silver, ceiling length draperies obscure the view of the city skies outside, a huge reminder of where you are now – somewhere between the past and the future that’s about to come – and the king-sized bed you lay on almost feels like a dream.

Right. It’s been two years since you’ve met Satoru, the once mysterious customer turned into lover, an arrangement between financial aid and companionship solidifying your relationship with him now.

Your face burns at the sight of your clothes scattered all over your shared room. Your lace panties somehow end up on the chandeliers, the expensive material of your silk dress about to slide off the humongous TV and your bra hanging off the doorknob.

The light ache between your legs does nothing to appease your embarrassment. Even after two years of being with Satoru, it’s still difficult to believe he’s chosen you of all people.

He could’ve had anyone he wants. Not only is he beautiful, young, successful, and smart, he’s also an absolutely god in the sheets, your throbbing core attesting to his never ending array of his skills. Truly, Gojo Satoru was perfect, so much so that you pale in comparison to him no matter how much he’s assured you you’re the only he has eyes on.

It doesn’t make sense to you, but does it have to?

Love never required a logical reason for it to blossom, and you left it at that, fearful that it may just ruin whatever happened between the two of you. Besides, if Satoru wants you, then who were you to question that?

You swing your legs off the side of the bed to make him breakfast, but your legs shake upon contact to the floor, still very much sore after last night’s events.

Satoru’s been away for work for three days, and even though it wasn’t that much of a distance, he still acted like it’s been forever. He sure took his time with you, making you cum three times just with his tongue and fingers alone. He’s a cheeky and mischievous man; there’s no telling whether his words are just sweet lies or plain facts, but if there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that Satoru keeps his promises to heart. If he says he’s going to fuck you until you can’t walk the next day, he means it, and now you’re left groaning back onto the bed.

You’re thankful that it’s a weekend. Had it been a school day, it’s going to be an absolute pain in the ass. No matter how much he’s covered your school fees, you still won’t risk missing a day.

The door swings open, revealing your boyfriend clothed in nothing but his boxers, the smile on his face huge at seeing you glare at him. “Aw, baby,” he coos, sliding himself next to you, carrying a tray of pancakes topped with blueberries with him. Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulder and laughs into your air when you grumble at the soreness, which he tries to kiss away. “Sorry not sorry for last night. It’s not my fault I’m so addicted to you.”

“Whatever,” you mutter, fighting back that stupid fluttering feeling in your chest. Your attention is diverted to the luscious, fluffy pancakes, and your brows furrow at the sight. “Did you make this for me?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

You roll your eyes at him; his energy was always off the charts even after fucking you into oblivion. Thanking him under your breath, you reach for the breakfast, eternally grateful that it’s breakfast in bed because you can’t walk anywhere right now. However, Satoru pries your hands away from the fork, making you lean back instead as he spoon feeds you.

It’s a little humiliating – and he’s basking in this judging from the smirk he wears – but you give in anyway. Unlike him, your stamina isn’t monstrous. You’re still a human and you’re utterly tired, the glare endless through mouthfuls of the pancake. “I’m not a child, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re my baby,” he retorts, smacking a kiss right at your lips.

You complain harder, ever so annoyed that you could never seem to throw him off guard and have the upper hand for once. Satoru eases the frown on your face by kissing you harder, his hand cradling your neck. He’s a fucking tease; his tongue languid and sensual as he tastes the honey coating your lips, sucking your bottom lip inside his mouth before nipping at it.

At the back of your mind, you’re wondering how each moment with him results into touching. Not that you really mind, of course, your stomach only flares up with heat at the thought he wants you just as much as you crave him.

Breakfast is soon forgotten right after seven bites as Satoru leans back against the headboard, thumb soothing circles at your hipbone to guide you on top of him.

He pulls away to breathe, a thin thread of saliva and honey between your lips present, and it’s so erotic that his eyes darken with lust, hands gripping a little tighter. You’re still bare on top of him, hardened breasts on display, but he holds himself back with heavy breaths, not wanting to ruin you further than he already has.

Satoru’s lips lands on your shoulder instead, thumb grazing under the weight of your breasts. He’s kissing you everywhere, almost as if he expects the flutter of his lips to heal you. You gladly let him taste you as he pleases, neck tilted to the side while you catch your breath.

The transition of him from an absolute freak in bed to the caring, compassionate boyfriend he is never fails to give you whiplash.

“How’s your studies?” he murmurs into your skin, his touch feather-like in caressing your back. You feel the hairs stand up at where he grazes them, shivering at the sensuality and tenderness he holds you with. “Doing good? My sweetheart still top of her class?”

“Hmm,” you hum back, planting yourself firm in his lap. He’s already hard under you, his cock twitching when your bare cunt presses on top of his tip, but he controls himself, focusing on your state instead. “My grades are tip-top, all thanks to your support,” Satoru smiles when you’re the one placing kisses all over his face this time, his giggles almost child-like.

Time flies by as you lay there in his arms. You’re lulled back into sleep at the sound of his heart beat, and just as you’re dozing off, Satoru pats your ass. “Baby,” he calls out, “Let me wash you first, then we’ll cuddle afterwards. What do you think about that?”

“That’d be great, I feel sticky.”

Satoru laughs, pulling panicked squeals from you when he suddenly hoisted you in his arms, carrying you bridal style. He kicks the door open before turning the heater on in the Jacuzzi, placing you under the shower first.

You close your eyes under the sprinkle of water, hands splayed all over his chest. Your legs are still wobbling, no thanks to him railing you as if there was no tomorrow, but he holds you upright, kneading his hands into your hair then washing every crevice of your body. When you open your eyes, you see him kneeling down to rub the loofah all over your legs, a slight pinch in his brows from sheer focus.

Your heart beats loudly on your chest, unable to process that the Gojo Satoru is on his knees, his touch nothing less of worshipping as if you were a divine being in his eyes.

It makes you breathe sharply as his face comes up before your core, his tongue darting out for a moment before he looks away, focusing on cleaning you up afterwards. His control and care for your well-being leaves you speechless, leaves you breathless, leaves you wanting him more and more and more that you’re kissing him again the moment he brings you both to his Jacuzzi.

He’s taken his boxers off to enjoy the feeling of skin brushing against skin, the fuzz of bubbles foaming up at your breasts only enticing him to kiss you with equal fervent passion.

You’re grinding down on his dick, his length encased between your lips that are extremely warm in comparison to the cool water. Finally, Satoru is stuttering beneath you, little whines leaving his breath as he kneads your ass, resisting the urge to slap the smooth flesh.

“Satoru,” you moan, “N-need you now, please.”

Fuck, his name on your lips mixed with your moans are enough to make him want to lose his restraint and just fuck you hard and deep there. He growls at how unaware you are of your effect on him, and he’s nothing short of starving in his kisses, never getting tired of tasting you over and over again. He wants to keep kissing you until your scent and taste is imprinted on his skin, to carry you around with him even when you’re not there, because he loves you, and he’s never loved anyone this much before. Especially for people like him, love was nothing but a myth.

Everything is a fantasy with you, a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. If you were to ask him to give up everything for you this instant, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

His heart is enslaved by your existence, and he nods, helping you lift your hips up to align his cock to your entrance. He takes note of your soreness as you slowly sink down on his cock, swallowing your whimpers through open-mouthed kiss. You’re shaking inside his arms, tiny scratches mixed with mewls making its way on his chest, further adding to the litter of scars already painted on his body.

Your head lands on his shoulder the second he bottoms out. Satoru groans at the feeling of your walls fluttering down on him, so warm and so tight that he has to lean his head back on the headrest just to catch his breath.

“You ride me, baby,” he manages through pants. “I’ll let you set the pace – do what’s comfortable with you.”

Your jaw clenches at the same time you clamp down on him one more time, eliciting another sinful moan from your lover. A lazy smirk graces your face as you ride him slowly, the image of the almighty Gojo Satoru falling apart at your ministrations burned at the back of your mind. You’ll replay this memory every time he leaves for work again, and the dreadful thought of having to watch him leave one more time fuels you to bounce on him harder, nails dug into his shoulder.

Satoru winces at the slight sting but doesn’t stop you anyway; he’s no stranger to pain. In fact, he’s a master of that and many more in more ways than one, though you didn’t know that – and he’ll never let you know that.

His eyes snap open at the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the water sloshing out the Jacuzzi. He’s met with the sight of you clutching the edges of the tub, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fuck yourself harder on his cock. Your breasts bounce right in front of his eyes, tempting him to latch a mouth around it, which he does, the sudden flicking of his warm tongue on your nipples driving you to the edge.

Your soreness becomes a hazy memory of the past with each slide down his dick, thighs burning from the exertion. Satoru is lapping up your breasts and palming the other expertly, his breath hot on your skin.

Something familiar coils into your lower abdomen with each hard thrust, and you throw your head back, moaning his name as if it’s the only thing you’ve ever known. You’re growing tired; he can tell from the way you’re barely lifting your hips, but you’re so close, so near, that Satoru takes it upon himself to push you both right where you wanted to be.

Your moan comes out breathless the moment Satoru grips at your hips, snapping his hips upwards at the same time he guides your body to crush down on him. He’s the one controlling your body, but you’re falling on top of him with no reserve, your weight slamming down to his groin in full force that he’s faltering. Satoru is entranced by the motion of your hips gyrating around the head of his cock, the wavering grin on your face a telltale you’re enjoying the act of destroying him, but he lets you – it’s only fair after the countless times he’s done the same with you. But oh, he’ll have you again and again, and he proves his endless desire for you by forcing himself deep to your most sensitive spots, the glimpse of your mouth hanging open as you come making his cock twitch.

Satoru squeezes your hips as he situates you flat on his cock, groaning as he came in thick spurts. You mewl, scratching at his chest as he rides his high out with a few more sloppy thrusts.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispers at the top of your hair, well-aware that your oversensitivity is clouding your mind. But he can’t help it, not when you feel so good around him like this. “Just a little more, I’ll be – fuck – right there, oh yeahhh,” he drawls out breathlessly, his cock twitching with the last strings of cum until he grows boneless inside you.

Satoru pulls his cock out, chest heaving up and down from that earth-shattering orgasm. In all honesty, he’s confident he could give you an even better one, but your lids are already fluttering close that he chuckles, pressing a kiss on your temple as a silent you did well.

Somewhere through your half-awake state, you manage to card your fingers through his hair, voice small and weak as you ask, “Don’t you have to go to work?”

Satoru’s eyes lour with something unreadable, and he’s thankful you don’t get to see the sudden glooming of his face. He gently pushes your head to rest on his shoulder, his eyes narrowed at his rippling reflection in the water. In his eyes, he sees the truth – he sees a monster holding an innocent angel he lives to protect – the truth he wants to conceal. He can’t even fathom the possibility of you finding out about who he really is, much less what he does that enables him to provide you with everything you need.

He’s the demon himself, caressing someone as pure as you in his arms, his eyes and true self sinister except for the gentle kisses he leaves at the shell of your ear.

If it keeps you safe, he doesn’t mind becoming even more of a monster if it means keeping you safe.

So he keeps you right where you can’t witness the slight moments of vulnerability in which his horns reveal itself, hugging you tight and possessively in the fear he’ll lose the only thing that matters most to him.

“I have a meeting tonight,” is all he says, is what he always says.

He’s mysterious and aloof, too vague every time you inquire him about what he does for a living. Usually, you’d feel worried or even wary that maybe he doesn’t trust you as much as you originally thought, but you’re too tired to question him further, and he takes advantage of your weakness wholeheartedly. All to keep you safe.

Satoru closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath, no longer bothered by the fact each step he took is getting him closer and closer to a point of no redemption.

He’s not worried about that anymore, not when his salvation is right in his arms, wrapping him with your love and false sense of safety that it becomes the lie he feeds himself every night just to keep going on.

“I just want to be with you a little longer.”

This time around, Satoru tells the truth.

The rust of blood dripping off the concrete walls is as normal to Satoru as breathing is for everyone else. He doesn’t falter in his movements, doesn’t scrunch his nose at the stench, and he doesn’t waver from swinging his arm back, the heavy weight of the wrench already wielded in his hand.

Someone dared come up to their base to face him head-on.

He has to admit, he was impressed with their guts, but now he feels empty save for a slight sliver of irritation at the man’s bloodied face. He’s panting after coughing up blood so much, his face unrecognizable after the beating Satoru gave him, teeth splattered on the floor. Satoru’s right hand man, Geto, stands at the side, silently inspecting his nails.

They’d been going at this for hours now, yet they seemed to be right where they were at the beginning. Torture was usually an effective method of gathering information, but this hostage seemed to be on the same par of monstrous as Satoru from his unyielding nature, even had the audacity to laugh.

Satoru stops in his tracks, a brow raised at what seemed to be so funny.

“Everyone spoke highly of you,” he spat his blood out, his busted eye twitching under Satoru’s stone cold gaze. “They told me you were barbaric, ruthless, the most feared mafia boss out here, but you’re pathetic now, aren’t you? You’re not the same Six Eyes who sees all they claimed you to be,” Satoru watched warily when his hostage smirked, the same one he always wore just moments from bashing the skull out of someone. It’s because he’s so familiar with it that Satoru immediately puts up his walls, Geto stepping beside him with his gun gleaming under his coat. As expected, the man does not falter, his laughter merely increasing in volume. “You’ve grown soft, Gojo. Your little lover is your weakness, it’s written all over your face. Tell me, what’s stopping you from ending my life already? Afraid that if she finds out, she might push you away?” When Gojo doesn’t answer, the man clicks his tongue. “I fucking knew it.”

Geto moves quicker than his boss. He draws his gun and aims it right between his eyes, only to be stopped by Satoru’s indifferent tone. “Stop.”

“But boss-”

“Why did you come here?” he stabs the man in the thigh with a knife, his screams of pain alleviating enough to distract the painful clenching of his chest. “I don’t believe you came here just to prove the rumors true. Now you tell me, why have you come here?” Satoru slams his fist down on the knife, the blade pushing past through muscles and hitting deep to the bone. “Answer me.”

“Th-there’s a drive in my pocket. Open it and you’ll see.”

The man doesn’t stop squirming as Geto rummages through his jacket, nodding to his boss once they got hold of the slick black device. Geto immediately plugs it to the monitor, several photographs popping up in a few seconds, and those few seconds were all it took to bring the infamous mafia boss down.

Because they weren’t just photos, they were photos of you.

Of you laughing with your friends, of you hugging Satoru’s arm in one of your dates, of you kissing him under the streetlight and even an intimate photo of you going down on him while he’s driving. It must be taken from a street cam judging from the blurry quality, but it’s crystal clear to him anyway, and Satoru’s mind muddles with thoughts darker than he once believed he’s capable of. He feels his anger bloom like fire licking up at his skin, his nerves bursting through, and he’s so obvious, so predictable that his hostage guffaws.

“I was right, I was right-!”

“You mean her?” his voice drips down with so much indifference, it shocks even he himself. His hostage shuts up at the sudden change of Satoru’s aura, that dark, fearsome aura that had people begging him to kill them as an act of mercy coming back to life. The man clamps his mouth shut, chills running down his spine because it’s no longer the same Satoru he mocked pulling the knife out from his thigh.

No, this is the Gojo Satoru, the devil incarnate himself, and he’s made the huge mistake of believing he would be affected by a mere woman. Satoru reads the fear on his face too easily, not bothering to hide his sigh as he twirls the bloodied blade between his fingers.

“She’s nothing to me. She’s just another bitch, another paid pussy. Favorite of the month, you could say, but nothing of worth to me,” he announces, ignoring Geto who’s stiffened up at the corner. “Did you really come all the way here just to see if you could find my weakness? If so, then your organization is a lot dumber than I thought, and I hate people who waste my time.”

“No, no, please, I was just jok-” his eyes widen when Satoru snaps his fingers, and Geto rushes to his boss with his gun. “Please, no, I didn’t think she was just a bitch-”

The man never got to finish his words.

A loud ‘bang’ echoes around the room, followed by a slight snap when his head falls backwards. Blood drips from the hole sitting in between his head, the aim perfect and flawless even with Satoru not looking back. He’s still Gojo Satoru, leader of the Gojo Mafia Clan, and he’s not the most feared leader in history for no reason. He’s always been blessed with a physical prowess and fighting abilities that allowed him to take on other clans by himself, but he’s changing. There’s now a chink in his armour, and people are starting to notice.

If he doesn’t do anything about it soon…

“Sir,” Geto begins, following the rushed footsteps of Satoru outside the hall, where his security is lined up with guns poised and ready to risk their lives for him. This was his power, this was his legacy – and this is who he was.

A killer. A monster. A demon – he’s everything you wouldn’t love.

“I know, Geto, I know,” Satoru says through gritted teeth, his bloody hands clenched into fists. He already knows what he’s supposed to do; he doesn’t need another reminder of it. “You don’t have to tell me anything I know of already. Now send that body back as a warning. I’m going home for tonight.”

Geto is stunned, and he’s got every right to be. After all, in his boss’ 28 years of existence, not once has he called anywhere or anyone home.

He’s always claimed himself to be irredeemable, to be unworthy of love and forgiveness, but slowly yet surely, he was beginning to look at life differently after meeting you, after loving you. The word ‘home’ was never in his vocabulary, and yet, every time your face comes up in his mind, it’s the only word he can think of.

He came home a lot earlier than you expected him to. You’re hunched over the table, legs swinging back and forth as you finish your school packets when the door chimes with the familiar beep. It’s only midnight and he’s already here, the excitement manifesting in you as you jump off the stools, running to greet your beloved.

Satoru ends up as a blur of frantic hands tugging his tie off, his scowl seething with anger and regret pouring off of him in waves.

Before you could say anything, he has you pinned on the wall, one knee inside your legs to keep you upright. Satoru is kissing you, hard, one hand raised to keep both your wrists planted above your head. You’re moaning at his aggressiveness, the sounds encouraged by his erection poking at you from your silk robe.

It’s not rare for him to come home in need of a fuck to clear his head, but…something feels different this time around. He feels different, almost like an entirely new person.

Satoru pulls away to press his forehead to yours, his eyes hooded with lust and lips bruised from the kiss. You’re confuzzled; your lover is the exact same person standing before you, the same person grazing at your breasts until your nipples harden at his touch, so then why does it feel like the person who left and came back are entirely two different people.

“Can I fuck you, angel? Please?”

Your words die down your throat.

Satoru’s never said please before, much less look this devastated as he asks to have you. He always says it with exuberant confidence, his present frown usually a smile. There’s no trace of happiness or even playfulness in his eyes this time around. Instead, they’re filled with fear – desperation, even.

You say yes before you realize it, but it’s enough for Satoru. It feels like he’s only been waiting for that word before he goes on a rampage, for his lips are on yours again, patting your thighs as a silent command to jump. You follow his orders and kiss him feverishly until it becomes a battle for dominance, tongue and teeth clashing against the other. Your hands are tugging at his hair from how rough he’s grabbing at your hips, spanking the sensitive flesh that draws a whimper at you.

You don’t know how Satoru manages to find his way to the leather couch even with his eyes closed, but he takes you there, no longer gentle as he throws your weight down. You’re falling, falling, falling as your knees hit the material, cheeks pressed against the headrest. You turn back to kiss him one more time, but Satoru keeps you down there, the sound of his belt unbuckling reaching your ears.

Satoru wraps the leather around his palm, kissing you flat on the lips just as he slaps the material to your ass. He’s pushed your robe to bunch up at your waist, groaning into your mouth upon the realization you’ve been walking around the house butt-naked.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he nips at your lips, feeding off of the pained moans coating his senses at each whip of his belt. “No underwear while I’m gone – you’re begging to be fucked, angel. You’re so filthy,” he swings his arm back to extend the length of the belt, squeezing your ass before he whips it harder against your flesh. You scream at the contact, nails ripping the leather couch and a slight puddle of drool on your lips.

“S-Satoru!”

“What?” he snaps, gripping your jaw, his eyes replaced with something animalistic as he stares at you. The love is gone in his eyes, your lover almost unrecognizable from the way he whips you again. You jut forwards, arousal pooling and dripping down his sofa. His eyes trail down your gushing pussy, nostrils flared before throwing his belt to the other side of the room. The buckle hits one of his expensive vases until it comes crashing down, the sound of it nostalgic to the first time you met him. “Can’t talk, huh, baby? What do you want? Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” you blurt out, wiggling your hips sensationally at his already throbbing dick. “Please fuck me.”

You suppose you should’ve been more careful with your words, because Satoru lives to please, and if you tell him to do something, you can expect he’ll give his everything.

He knocks the wind out of your lungs by squeezing your waist, sliding himself into you one, full thrust. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily, but it’s too fast, too early, that the sudden stretch is painfully pleasurable. Satoru delivers one more smack to your flesh that makes it bounce, his growls loud and ragged as he pounds into you.

You’re clutching at the backrest, eyes shut tight as all your attention diverts to the heat in your core. You wish you could see his face, hold his hand or see the way he admires you while he fucks you, but you can’t see anything. Tonight, you could only feel.

Each thrust sends the couch a little ways forward, his balls slapping against your ass. He’s cursing left and right, more focused on getting his anger out his system than pleasuring you. It’s a drastic change to your lover’s behavior in bed, yet you can’t find any muscle in your body that denies this. Satoru can be rough, but he never really goes all out. One way or another, he manages to hold back for your sake, but his mind’s a mess, the voices in his head screaming louder that it drowns out the need to make you cum first.

He’s relentless, grip bruising the harder he fucks into you. You know you’re gone in the instance Satoru plants one foot beside you, the angle causing him to hit deeper.

Satoru ends up fucking into your cervix with each hard thrust, fisting his hand under your robe while he slams forward. It’s so intense that your vision blurs, a faltered grip on the couch. You’re falling limp under his ministrations, his dick successfully hitting that spot that has you seeing white. You’re screaming, babbling nonsense while Satoru uses you as his own fuck toy, pushing past your tight walls and relishing in the way you hug his cock snugly.

He came first, his thrusts growing sloppy and stuttering for a moment. Satoru pulls out so quickly from you that you’re left gasping for air at the sudden emptiness, and that’s when you feel his cum landing on your lower back.

You’re too slow, too weak – or perhaps he’s too strong, too fast – to react properly to his movements.

Satoru doesn’t let you catch your breath as he throws you over his shoulder, your face nearly smacking his ass. You feel dizzy at this position, and the voice in your head tells you that you should be scared he’s manhandling you like this, but seeing him this way – so reveled, so angry, so out of control – has you rubbing your legs, core dripping at the thought of how he’s going to use you tonight.

Your eyes widen when he doesn’t head for the bedroom. You were so sure he’d take you there, but Satoru lays you flat on the marble countertops of the kitchen, the cold biting into your skin.

Satoru doesn’t waste another second before he spreads your legs open and dives into your cunt. You squeal, legs instinctively closing around his head when you feel his tongue lick a flat stripe at your pussy, but he only pushes them apart, encircling your ankles hard to keep you open.

You know he’s strong, but you’re still surprised that he’s capable of rendering you motionless, powerless like this. Your mind wanders off to a dangerous path in wonders of how else he’s hurt someone like this – whether intentionally or unintentionally – but he immediately pulls you back to reality when he sucks your clit, his eyes direct with yours.

His hands trail upwards to squeeze at your breasts, the immediacy of it all firing up that tight knot in your stomach that he failed to snap a while ago.

Satoru’s nose rubs at your skin the harder he sucks at your clit, tugging it upwards until you’re whining around him. It’s always so erotic to see his pretty face buried in your cunt like this; you’ll never get used to him eating you like you’re his last meal. He laps up your juices like a starved man, his tongue prodding between your lips and slurping everything you offer him, one of his arms retracting to slide two fingers inside your sopping hole.

You moan at the sudden intrusion. The sounds of your moans mixing in with the lewd squelching of your dripping pussy is extremely embarrassing, even more so because you’re actually gushing down his palm.

Your juices spread all over his face, and Satoru is greedy, thirsty for more. He pumps harder into you, curling them against the ridges of your walls, and finally, finally you’re there. Your orgasm washes down on you violently that Satoru has to keep a palm flat down on your stomach, his tongue not ceasing from lapping up your juices. You’re convulsing from his hold, stuttered moans rewarding to his ears.

He doesn’t stop coaxing your wetness out of your cunt, his fingers working you out and easing the previous pain of when he entered you without warning. Satoru leans up to help you sit up, his lips colliding with yours for a much gentler kiss this time around.

You cup his cheeks, feeling him slide your body across the counters. Your arousal that he’s failed to clean up remains there until it spreads all over the back of your thighs, the feeling sticky and uncomfortable, but you’re more focused in his tongue dancing with yours. He tastes sweet – like mint and sugar – but his moans are sweeter, the sound dulcet and making you weak on your knees as you taste yourself on him.

Satoru tugs you forward, panic flooding you when you feel nothing under you. You feel like you’re falling again and you immediately encircle your arms around his neck, but he chuckles through the kiss, quick reflexes put into work as he carries you.

The kiss is sloppy yet heated, both of you unable to focus properly when he’s growing hard again. You expect him to take you to the bedroom to finish things for once and for all, but he’s impatient – this much you know the moment he walked in, but somehow keep forgetting – wrapping your legs to his waist instead before slipping inside you.

You mewl into his mouth, eyes snapping open to look at him nervously. His legs are slightly bent as he bounces you on his cock like you weighed nothing.

In this position, he’s hitting deep each time you slide down his cock. Unable to help it, you graze your foreheads with his to stare him deep in the eyes, the usual passion in them slowly returning with each thrust. The work is placed on his shoulders as he holds you close to him, the mind numbing sensation of your erect nipples grazing his sensitive skin enticing him to rut harder into you, all to enjoy the way you fall apart above him.

You’ve been rendered speechless, mouth fallen open to release breathy gasps. Hell, you’re unable to moan, not when his cock is sliding in and out of you so lusciously that you feel every vein protruding from the base of his length. How he manages to walk while fucking you is beyond your comprehension by now, but he seems to be having the time of his life based on his grunting, continuously fucking deep into your pussy so much that he refuses to let you go. Satoru kicks the door to your room open and places you gently on the bed this time, trapping you in his arms but with enough space to let you crawl back up on the bed. You stop as your head hits the pillows, and the mood immediately changes.

Satoru stays still inside you, his large hand cupping your face while you both catch your breath. There’s something unreadable about him. He feels young yet old at the same time, giving you the impression that perhaps he’s still just a child trapped in an old man’s body.

There’s so much fear swirling through the blueness of his eyes that you frown, marveling about what happened to him.

In the intimacy of the moment, you swipe the stray tear that had fallen down his cheek, smiling up at him in hopes he’d realize you’re always there for him. “Satoru,” you whisper, breath hitching as he starts to move. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Satoru props you sideways, your leg flat on the bed while he hooks the other one over his thigh that is spread beside your body. You have to tilt all the way to the side just to see his face, your hand now bent in an awkward position. Although he doesn’t answer vocally, his gentle thrusts are enough to tell you he doesn’t want to talk about it – he never does, and he never will – so you shut your mouth, focusing on the pleasure of him hitting deep.

Your heart aches for him. You wish he could tell you everything, to share you his worries, and you can’t enjoy him fucking you too much because you’re crying, chest clenching that he’s growing distant no matter how close he is.

You don’t want to lose him.

“Hey,” he easily reads you, leaning down to flutter his eyes at you. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired, okay, angel? But you’re making me feel good, you always do, so let me do the same for you,” Satoru kisses your tears away, the saltiness of it making him fuck harder into you, all to ignore the screaming inside his head.

He wants to hold you, he wants to kiss you, he wants to keep loving you like this, he wants to be with you, he wants to touch you – but it’s not that easy.

It’ll only keep getting harder in the future, but the future isn’t now. Today is the present, and it’s even more precious because you’re there with him. Right now, you’re untouchable by anyone but him, and it’s only him that gets to fuck you like this, only him who gets to see you whimper under him, only him who gets to kiss you hard while he fucks you deep.

He wants to fuck you hard enough that you never forget the feeling of him inside you.

Maybe he’s selfish, maybe he really is demonic, because he wishes that after this you won’t be satisfied with anyone else. He wants to fuck you hard enough you’ll keep wishing it was him, that it’s him who’s hitting your sweet spots and making you see stars, that it’s only him who can make you feel this good.

Satoru interlaces his hand with yours as he feels you tighten around him, the clamping down of your walls a telltale you’re near. You’re moaning, eyes dropping to where your bodies are connected. His cock is slicked with your arousal and he’s still thrusting to passionately, his hands touching you everywhere with the same ardor and impatience one would have when they know time is limited. And Satoru knows better than everyone that no amount of money can buy enough time in this world, because if such was a case, then he’d have done so long ago.

He silences his demons with the only way he knows how to; by kissing you and burying himself deep inside you, snapping his hips angrily as if they would counterattack his fears. Your hold on him is slipping from the sweat dripping down your bodies, but he doesn’t stop, his cock further stretching you out because he’s growing impossibly bigger.

Satoru’s cock twitches inside you, the motion pulling a gasp from you. He bites down on your shoulder, one hand gripping your other leg open as he grunts into your skin, his thrusts focused more on power than speed. He hits deep each time, the sensation of him sliding out slowly only to push back in vigorously to make your pussy throb too intense for you to even form proper sentences. He’s getting nearer, his thrusts growing more fervent and impatient. Satoru thumbs at your clit to coax you into following him, and with his thumb rubbing your clit and flicking it side to side, you end up finishing before him, your moan high-pitched and broken. He eagerly swallows the sound by releasing after you, refusing to pull out even as he feels both your cum trickle afterwards.

The sensitivity is too much for you that you have to push him away, and he complies, falling at your side but not before wrapping an arm around you first. His heartbeat is pumping under you, your hands tracing circles at his chest while he holds you impossibly close, littering kisses at the crown of your head.

It’s clear that something is wrong, but he won’t tell you no matter how much you ask. You know firsthand how annoying it is when someone can’t respect your space, so you close your eyes and let sleep overtake you instead, basking in the after sex glow and relieved only by his touch.

Hopefully, you think to yourself, he can tell you another time.

“Satoru,” you murmur seconds before falling asleep.

“Yeah?”

“If there’s something wrong…you’ll let me know, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he lies through gritted chest, pushing your head deeper into his sweaty chest. He has a habit of doing this; of pushing you close so you don’t see his face, so you don’t see the tears streaming down his face that are soon lost in your hair. You think that maybe he’s just breathing hard after work and fucking you, but he’s torn inside, feeling too broken that not even you could help fix his heart.

But you’re still there, and that’s enough for him. So he keeps his lips planted on your forehead all the way until the first sliver of light extends its fingertips over the horizon, the orange glow bathing you in an ethereal light while his body remained in the darkness.

It serves as a painful reminder that he’ll never be worthy of your love, that he’ll never earn the blessing that is your heart, that you’ll never truly love him the way he’s always wanted to be loved. Maybe now you think you do, but it will change once the darkness reveals his true nature, and the thought of you pushing him away hurts a lot more than having never been loved in the first place. To him, it’s a thousand times worse when you get a taste of something, only to have it pulled away from you.

And the longer he stays there next to you, he can’t help but picture your smile soon turned into a look of fear, your body bruised with marks and blood instead of his love bites.

They call him the notorious mafia leader who bows and yields to no one, but it’s not true. Gojo Satoru most definitely has his weakness, one that came into a form of his lover, and he can’t handle that you’d get hurt because of him someday that he believes it’s just better to let things be this way.

He’s silent from when he leaves the bed, refusing to look at you one last time as a final resolve of whatever is left in his strength. He quickly dresses himself and picks up your discarded robe on the ground, folding it and leaving it on the counter before shutting the door, the sound of his footsteps mute compared to the frantic beating of his heart.

Geto is already there at the lobby, his face empty yet eyes filled with sympathy. He opens the door for Satoru who slides in wordlessly, his lips pulled into a thin line while he punches in zeroes upon zeroes.

The words transaction complete flashes before him, and for a split second, he gets the urge to run back inside to hold you. But Geto clears his throat from the passenger’s seat, nodding at his phone that Satoru visibly deflates. His hands are numb the whole time he deletes your photos, your videos, and erases your contact, but it only hits hard that its over once he chucked the phone out the window, watching through his sunglasses as the device is crushed under another speeding car.

Its over, its over, its over – it keeps chanting at his head, and he wants to punch himself, wants to never see another daylight again every time he imagines you waking up alone and unable to find him. He wants to be sad, and he is, but there’s that relief blossoming inside him anyway that whispers its over, you’re safe that he can’t help but think…its okay, its over.

With that, Satoru rolls up the windows and nods at the driver who’s been waiting for him the whole time. He makes eye contact with a proud Geto from the rearview mirror, concealing his heartbreak with a laugh as he crosses his leg over the other.

“It’s over,” he says more to himself, “Let’s go.”

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. That’s the reason he got this far in life in the first place, he’s got his tenacity and dedication to thank for. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins as well, and he also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

And the punishment of loving you – only to have you slip from his arms – is a punishment he’ll wholeheartedly accept.

[duskamethyst]

deception.

a/n: if you ask me why i did this, the answer is i don’t know.

word count: 4.6k

genre: smut, nsfw, angst, quirkless AU

warnings: daddy kink, degradation, edging, age gap, implied cheating, reader is a little delusional

pairing: sugardaddy!bakugou x f!reader

summary: where you fall in love with your own sugar daddy and you finally confess to him.

pretending to be in love with old men for a couple of hours can be exhausting and it might seem like a nonideal way to get money, but desperate times call for desperate measures. you’ve met plenty of these people, who have too much money they could spend. some are just lonely; in need of company from a young, pretty girl and some just want to have fun despite having their wives and kids at home. they come and go, and you couldn’t care less about what happens to them after your encounter, as long as you get your money’s worth. 

but never have you ever thought that you’d be so attached to one. maybe entertaining sugar daddies isn’t that tiring when they’re really attractive (it’s natural to like good looking people, can anyone blame you?). he’s truly a sight for sore eyes and you often wonder how he possesses so much stamina in bed. bakugou makes you feel some kind of way, it’s wrong, but with more time you spend with him, you can’t help but to actually fall in love with the guy. he makes you feel antsy and you often find yourself waiting for his texts, either the dirty ones or the ones that expresses his anticipation to see you again soon.

it’s not like he doesn’t do the same thing as the others; buys you things you know you can’t afford, spends his money on fancy dinners and continues to spend the rest of the night with you at random five stars hotels after. the difference is, you actually somewhat enjoy being around him as his spoiled little princess and you find yourself to gladly do anything for him like the time you let him fuck you raw because he wanted to. 

for a man his age, bakugou is well maintained. you love to lay your head down on his huge chest and rake your nails on his broad back, eliciting deep grunts of pleasure from the man in return. he looks appetizing; toned abs and a happy trail that leads to his trimmed pubes and down to his massive cock. if it isn’t for the fine lines on his face and the white streaks on his hair, you wouldn’t think he’d be reaching 50. 

you don’t know if you should even feel jealous of his wife. if you were born years earlier, would he choose you instead? the thought of him being with someone else and vowed to be together for the rest of their lives makes you want to puke. bakugou must’ve realized that it was a mistake too. if he still loves her, why would he have his cock sink inside you? if he really loves her, why are you the one he tells that to instead? 

“daddy loves you. daddy loves fucking your tight cunt. baby, you feel so fuckin’ good– so fuckin’ good for daddy. love you too– fuck.”

you can already picture the image of him on top of you as you replay those same words like a broken record player inside your head; lips part slightly in heavy pants, vermillion irises overfill with lechery as he fucks you senseless.

daddy loves you. he loves you and you're more than certain that you love him. not for his money, not for the stuff he indulges you with but only for himself. 

you want him. you want him to make you all his. you want him to be able to see you freely and not sneaking behind someone else’s back. you want to sit pretty as you wait for him to come back home from work every day, all wet and ready to please him. he loves you, and that’s what he deserves after a stressful day. 

as soon as you get inside the room and kick off your heels, a strong pair of hands grab you by the thighs and easily lift you up. you wrap your legs around his waist in an instant, dropping your bag to the floor unceremoniously before circling your arms around his neck as he draws you in a passionate, hungry kiss. a battle of dominance has always been nonexistent when it comes to bakugou, he naturally holds everything in the palm of his hand and both of you like it that way.

his lips never stray away from yours, not even when he walks towards the bed with you clinging onto his strong physique while his hands squeeze firmly on the flesh of your bum before he breaks away, but only to throw you on the soft mattress. you prop up on your side, looking up at him innocently and pleadingly with doe eyes that you know would never fail to stir up something primal inside him. his gaze drinks in every inch of you; the heave of your chest, the curve of your ass and overall your smaller frame that lies submissively in front of him. 

“look at you. such a fucking doll.” he takes off his slim fit suit, throwing the coat carelessly on the ground before loosening up his tie until it unfolds completely. “you like the dress? it’s shorter than i imagined, can’t help but to notice how the other guys kept on checking you out.”

you nod your head, pressing your thighs together as you notice how his lustful eyes linger a little too long on your ass that’s barely hiding under the hem of your mini dress. “yes, because daddy bought it for me.”

“damn right he did.” he smirks, unfastening about three buttons of his dress shirt. “ass up.”

you hurriedly roll on your stomach, planting your cheek on the mattress and arching your back perfectly as you lift your ass in the air. you feel the bed dipping from your back before a calloused hand caresses your thigh and trails up to your cheeks slowly, appreciating the smooth and youthful skin before he gets to ruin it.

“good. lift your head up.”

it’s never your position to question. carefully, you do as told by lifting yourself up on your hands and knees. you can discern the shifting of his body from behind and by your side as you look ahead and face the curtains before your sight is abruptly seized by darkness.

the silky material biting your lids suggests that he has wrapped his tie around your head, purposely blindfolding you to amplify your other senses as your sight is consumed with pitch black. bakugou pushes your head down with his hand, keeping you on your knees and lets you stay in the position while he takes off his dress shirt.  

“you’re gonna be a good girl for daddy.” he states more than questions, hiking up the hem of your dress to your waist to feed him with an unobstructed view of the damp patch adhering on your flimsy panties. bakugou presses his thumb on the splotch and his eyes flick over to your quivering body. “gonna let daddy use his tongue to fuck you?”

“please, daddy.” you whine, bucking your hips closer to ease the ache with his touch but is greeted with a sharp smack across your skin instead. 

“so impatient,” he tuts, rubbing the red print gently. “you’re just a horny little girl, aren’t you? can’t live without daddy’s dick inside her cunt.”

“just you– only yours.” 

“you know just what to say, don’t you?” his voice husky and rasp, complimenting the conceited smirk on his lips as he spoke. you learn that bakugou is actually a man that is easy to please, only if you know how to stroke his ego and as simple as that, his intimidating persona would be long gone. 

cold air brushes against your wet folds once he strips off your panties. he lifts up both knees to get you out from the garment and crumple it into a ball with his hand before bringing it in front of your face. 

“open.” you obey and open your mouth, allowing him to gag you with the cloth and quickly filling your senses with a mixture of lace and your own scent. “so good for me.”

bakugou moves back to his initial position, smearing his fingers against your puffy folds with your slick. he circles your clit teasingly and slowly, resulting in you to squirm while your hands find purchase on the sheets beneath you. 

“stop squirming around or i’m not gonna eat you.” he warns as his ministrations come to a halt to observe your compliance before he continues. for a man that is impatient himself, it’s quite hard to take his sweet time teasing you. maybe with the fact that you’re so querulous, a surge of power and pride rushes through him and his willpower tells him not to lose his machismo too quickly.

a satisfying grin tugs on the corner of his lips while he watches you struggle to follow his order and his thumb presses tight circles on your swollen clit to draw out sweet, muffled whines. once he notices your legs begin to tense and toes to curl, he pulls away. 

“you can’t cum yet.” he licks up the slick from his fingers clean before settling his head in front of your rear. an anticipative knot swells in your lower stomach as you feel hot plumes of breath prickling against your puffy folds before he spreads them open with his fingers. with how much your senses have spiked up, you can feel your pussy dripping with so much arousal and you know damn well that bakugou can see it too. 

“you’re nothing but a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” he coos, sounding both demeaning and amused as he rubs your lips, sending more waves of sensation on the bundle of nerves. “my dirty little slut.”

bakugou doesn’t expect you to answer but as soon as his warm tongue takes the first lap of your slick, a loud squeal rips from your throat. his large hands rest on your hips as he tilts his head to reach your clit, toying and teasing by using the tip of his tongue while his own plump lips and stubble graze against your slit.

you’re quick to turn into a sobbing mess, unheedful of the saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth when you’re aware that it won’t take too long until you’d eventually break. just as the stimulation is becoming more overbearing, his hands clench on your supple flesh tighter in a silent command that tells you it’s not time to cum yet. 

after he’s satisfied with abusing the bud, he drags down his tongue and pumps inside your quivering hole, causing you to jolt in a delighted surprise. from the loud, lewd squelching sounds of your own fluid mixing with his spit, you can only picture the way he looks right now; face buried between your ass cheeks, nose deep in your cunt while his tongue works miraculously around your walls. 

even the image beyond the abyss itself makes you more delirious. 

“c-can’t–” you break into a muffled cry as your hips bucks into his mouth without conscious control. another harsh slap is what you receive, but you can’t seem to care when a thick fog of desire is already clouding your brain; making the pain and pleasure to become one divine fusion. 

bakugou’s blows don't stop with how much you’re grinding so earnestly on his face. your skin burns from the cruel attention, yet your cunt just keeps on seeping with slick that trickles down to his chin and drips down on the sheets beneath you. 

“you’re such a fucking pain slut.” he growls, hot breath fanning your greedy cunt and making the pressure even tighter in your stomach. “not yet.” his tongue is anything but languid; swirling hastily as it explores your little hole as far as he can reach. it’s obscene. the way that the muscle glides so smoothly.. the warmth, the moisture– 

next thing you know, your eyes are already rolled to the back of your eyelids as your body tenses while waves of gratification crash down throughout your entire being.

“cumming on daddy’s tongue without permission.” he tsks, giving one last spank before standing up at the edge of the bed as he burns the image of your quivering body into the back of his head, adorned by the red imprint of his hand on your pliant skin. “turn around.” 

without a spare moment to gather yourself, you get up on wobbly legs and arms, carefully turn around like a fawn taking its first baby steps and rebuild your senses at the same time to estimate where he currently stands until he tells you to stop. 

your eyes squint as they adjust to the subdued room, finally able to see faint light again after bakugou takes off the tie around your head. you look up to the older man, only to be pierced by a pair of carmine orbs and a disgruntled look on his face.

“you know what you did wrong.” a thin string of drool latches onto the panties when he pulls it out from your mouth to observe the drenched fabric between his thumb and pointer finger. “looks like you had a great time.” you can see how it’s embarrassingly soaked, but not as embarrassing as the amount of slick glistening around his lips and chin that he doesn’t even bother to wipe off.

“’m sorry, daddy.” you whisper hoarsely through dry throat while giving him your most remorseful look. it would’ve deceived him if he didn’t know any better, but receiving punishments is something he knows you’d enjoy.

the slight upturn at the corner of his lips etches into a lazy grin as he unfastens his belt and takes off his pants along with his briefs to release his erected cock– now standing proudly in front of your face. 

“what do you have to do now?” he hums, tapping the flushed tip on your lips as if moisturizing the parched skin with his leaking precum. 

“m-make daddy proud.” you shamelessly steal a taste, flattening your tongue out so he can rub it on your palate. 

“can’t fuckin’ understand you– cock hungry slut.” he chuckles with mirth, one hand tucking your hair behind each ear as his gaze softens for a moment. “but that’s why i fuckin’ love you.”

your lashes flutter as you stare up at him, heart blooming like flowers on a fresh start of spring after a harsh, cold winter as the words he uttered loops inside your head. with a content hum, you close your eyes and wrap your lips around his cock, eliciting a hiss from the male once engulfed in the warmth of your mouth. 

“shit, i haven’t even told you to suck me yet.” his own eyes follow suit, throwing his head back as his own hand finds home on top of your head. your eagerness makes it hard for him to stay mad. if he was younger he would’ve been a little irritated if someone tried to take control, but maybe aging really did something and made your whims seem more tolerable for him. but what he loves most is seeing you struggle to fit his fat cock; whether it’s by your mouth or your pussy.

“just like that,” his voice drops an octave, watching most of his length disappear inside your mouth while your tongue runs against his veins. “fuckin’ look at me when you’re suckin’.”

you submissively comply to his command, meeting those sharp eyes you adore beneath the tousled mess of his blond and white hair. 

“you love daddy’s cock?” he doesn’t intend to give you a second to answer before he continues,  “then you wouldn’t mind chokin’ on it, don’t ya?” 

you moan in response just as he expected and he snorts through his nose. “of course you don’t.”

bakugou brings your head closer, shoving down his cock your throat before he starts to snap his hips. a chorus of curses pass his lips, taut muscles relaxing as he drowns in euphoria. drool soon starts to dribble from the corner of your lips and your jaw starts to ache, yet you’re still insistent on accommodating his cock– using your tongue when you could until he’s exploding with a mouthful of oaths.

“such a good girl.” he grunts, holding your head firmly with tension in his fingers as he stares down at you with knitted brows. “feels good havin’ dick in your mouth? hm?”

“hmm–” you moan in concur, the vibration almost drives him mad and it’s evident through the twitch you feel against your hollowed cheeks. with an exasperated groan, he pulls out his cock from your mouth and pumps it in his fist. 

“take it off and lie down. now.” his words thrum through you in a burst of heat. you swiftly discard the dress and rest on your back, spreading your legs in front of him in anticipation before he proceeds to climb on the bed. you shudder when he spits on your cunt before smothering his cock against the slit and down to your entrance to give extra lubrication. 

a deep, inarticulate sound rips from his throat, one that conveys pleasure as he sheathes his cock inside you. he can feel your walls sucking him in so welcomingly and squeezing him so tight that he thought he might cum then and there.

“that’s fuckin’ tight.” he girts out, pushing through the walls until he has bottomed out. with each hand on the sides of your head, his large and shredded build looms on top of you and keeps your smaller frame caged underneath. 

“daddy– s-so big.” you extend your arms to cling around his neck, looking up at him with a lust addled gaze. 

“i know you can handle me, sweetheart.” he smirks conceitedly and starts to roll his hips, dragging every ridge and vein against your walls through each thrust. your toes curl when he goes deeper and your nails dig into his back, leaving crimson trails as they rake.

“l-love you, daddy.” the words slip past your lips so naturally in flawless manifestation of your genuine feelings towards him. 

you observe how his lips stretch into a simper, fiery and lustrous eyes staring back at you before he replies, “love you too, ba– fuck–” 

bakugou feels you clench around him impossibly tighter and he leans down to kiss you, forcing you to swallow down his moans as he ruts inside you harder and faster.

“baby– that’s right. daddy fuckin’ loves you.” his low and resonant voice fills your ears, pleasure pulling taut in your lower stomach as the pressure begins to build up rapidly for your second orgasm. “–and he loves this tight cunt.”

“ah– daddy! p-please make me cum–” you start to babble, too lost in pleasure and your legs find themselves wrapping around bakugou’s waist to keep him closer and deeper.

“don’t you fucking dare cum yet.” he snarls before lifting himself up to keep his hands on the headboard in front of him and instantly blocking your view of the room. not that you mind when you’ve already set your eyes on him the whole time. 

“no matter how many times i’ve fucked you–” he pulls out almost completely before ramming in again, making you squeal.  “you still feel so fucking good.”

your hands reach to cup his face gently, your lips parted and wet, eyes glazed with adoration and an overflowing want for him. “all for you.” 

he chuckles quietly to himself. who knew that he would find himself burying his cock in some dumb college girl? with her heart filled eyes that tell him he’s some kind of a savior or the last man on earth. whether it’s all superficial or not, he thinks you’re pretty damn good at it.

“you sure make it hard for daddy not to love you.” he scoffs. you let out a needy whine when he pulls out and your hole convulses, instantly missing the way his cock stretches you out and makes you feel full. 

but it’s not for long when your vision suddenly keels as he flips you over to lie down on your stomach. bakugou easily hoists up your hips and pushes down your back to force you into a perfect arch before he sinks his throbbing cock inside your sloppy cunt without warning. 

“nghh– daddy–!” you cry as bakugou pounds into you with a menacing pace and hits you at the right places at the same time. 

“yeah? you like it when daddy uses you like the little slut you are?” he grabs a fistful of your hair, jerking your head up. “like you’re nothing but my little cocksleeve?”

“yesyesyes– daddy–! s-so deep– can’t!” your strength begins to drain out and you don’t know how much longer you can hold yourself  before he allows you to cum.

“you can– fuck– you’re clamping down on me.” he growls, one hand on your hips forming crescent shapes on your skin with his fingers.

your jaw has fallen slack, mouth gaping in breathless whimpers as you let bakugou abuse your little cunny while your own hands are balling into fists that your knuckles turn white. the air is filled with the sound of skin slapping against each other, mingling with his heavy pants.

“you’re really– hah– milking this fat cock.” his own rhythm turns sporadic, skin burning red with every second he prolongs his desire.

“please– daddy–” you let out a feeble moan and your legs begin to tremble as a result of the unbearable pressure tightening in your lower stomach. your pussy is already leaking with so much slick and it’s making a filthy mess on the bed. 

“you’re ready to cum for daddy?” he fucks you harder with deep strokes, knocking the breath from your lungs each time he presses into you. 

“pleasepleaseplease–” tears prickle from the corner of your eyes as the coil in your stomach threatens to snap.

“cum.” 

the word left his lips in a pure command and you break down instantly with a loud cry. a huge wash of pleasure winds its way through every nerve and your pussy gushes and clenches around his cock. 

“that’s it. good girl.” a deep growl rumbles in his chest as he observes every twitch of pleasure he has brought into you. 

“th-thank you, daddy.” you mumble, still deeply doused in ecstasy.

bakugou finally releases his harsh grip and your head plops down on the soft pillow while he pulls out and pumps his cock in his own fist, coated with your own arousal before he splurts thick ropes of cum all over your cheeks and watches as it trickles down to your cunt. 

after a brief moment of catching his breath, bakugou reaches for the nearest tissue box and helps to clean off the mess you both made. you let your exhausted body fall onto the mattress and he throws the used tissues away before leaning back on the headboard next to you, still panting and trying to get down from his high. 

“you okay?” he breaks the silence, flicking his gaze towards you and rubs your head gently in hopes to soothe the pain he caused from pulling your hair so roughly. 

you hum, seeking for solace from his touch as he pulls the blanket up to cover your bodies and reaches for his phone on the nightstand with his other hand. you silently observe him as he looks at his phone, probably reading and scrolling through emails or texts like he’d usually do after having you wrecked. 

“love you, daddy.” you suddenly squeak, yet bakugou doesn’t tear his eyes from the screen and it leaves you unsure if he heard you or not. 

“hm.” his response is indifferent and your stomach churns into an unpleasant feeling; one you don’t appreciate at all. 

“daddy.” you swallow past the lump in your throat. “i said i love you.”

bakugou clicks his tongue and your heart shatters slightly at the sound, thinking that you probably just annoyed him, “yeah, i heard you.”

“bakugou.” you suddenly snap and the hand on top of your head stills. you don’t know where the courage to call him by his name comes from, but you want to convey your sobriety over the current situation and for what you’re about to say next. cold shivers run down your spine once his attention diverges towards you and he raises a questioning brow, ushering you to speak. 

“i-i love you–” you gulp, taking a deep breath. “like, i’m in love with you.” 

his stare is impassive and there’s an uncomfortable silence weighing the air between the two of you. your cheeks begin to warm up with humiliation and a part of you dreads with regret. you aren’t sure how long the deafening silence lasted before you see a twitch at the corner of his lips. 

“you gotta be kidding me.” he snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. 

you rise up on your side and your eyes waver with confusion as you look at him. “b-but you said you love me too. you do, r-right?”

he scoffs, mostly galled by the fact that he’s actually having this conversation with you– a dumb college girl, but he doesn’t expect much either. “why the hell would i be in love with you? did i knock your head?”

getting straight to the point is one of bakugou’s nature; his bluntness is like a sharp knife that stabs you in the heart. 

“but you said–”

“why do you think i only said it when i had my cock buried inside your cunt?”

and it twists painfully. 

“forget about it. go to sleep.” he nonchalantly replies and returns back to his phone, brushing off the wounded look that’s written all over your face.

you feel humiliated, angered and disregarded. given that you were always spoiled, you can’t stand having your feelings unreciprocated and rejection is one of the things you aren’t familiar with.

“why? because you have a wife? you don’t even love her–”

you flinch when you hear the loud thud of bakugou slamming his phone down on the bed, but it’s not as fearsome as the malicious glare he’s shooting at you. “don’t you fucking say that. i don’t wanna hear that, especially coming from a dumb whore like you.”

harsh reality gives you a massive slap in the face. 

your heart is hammering against your chest and your vision begins to blur as tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill out. you feel like you want to scream at him but the words you want to say only get caught in your throat. bakugou notices how you’re about to burst but he only rolls his eyes, expressing his vexation. 

“god,” he sighs exasperatedly and gets off from the bed to pick up his clothes from the floor. “the last thing i need is another fucking nuisance.”

“w-where are you going?” you croak as you watch him put on his clothes. 

bakugou turns to your direction and snarls, “what does it look like? leaving.” 

the pain in your chest becomes harder to bear, fat tears start to roll down your cheeks and when you try to reach for him, he coldly shoves your hand away. you saw how furious he could be through his phone calls but you were never on the receiving end; always the one who calmed him down and let him use you as a way to take out his frustrations on. now you’re nothing different than the rest of the people in his life, or maybe you were just too stupid to realize that you were never any different before too. 

“just leave when it’s time to check out. you’d know at least that much.” he scoffs as he walks to the door and twists the doorknob before turning back to you for what it seems would be the last time. 

“and don’t even think of finding me again.”

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[ahtsumu]

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu​! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving. 

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

[boldlyvoid]

Intro and masterlist

✨about me ✨

this is a mature blog, I trust all minors to be responsible and avoid everything marked NSFW!

NSFW sideblog: @pervstash-spencer

Hi! my name is emily, I'm 23 she/they

Capricorn, bisexual, non-binary, autistic, and I have fibromyalgia ✌🏻 overall just a fun time y'know.

ao3

i love: supernatural, star trek, marvel movies, criminal minds, this is us and grey's anatomy !!

Accepting requests for Spencer Reid x Reader fics currently

all my tags are listed below if you want to see other posts about said fics, also here is my Spotify for the fics <3

Dad!spencer Masterlist

First times Masterlist**

all links to my fics below the cut!

Updated: July 28th, 2021

** for smut

~~ for angst

Spencer Reid x Reader fics

Hypothetically**~ Ao3 | Tumblr -- 27 chapters, complete. 89k

reader and Spencer were friends in kindergarten, she watched him grow up and explore the world while she was still trying to catch up to him. now that they work together, they fall in love incredibly fast.

friends to lovers, case of the week style story

touch me**~ Ao3 | Tumblr 5.8k

Spencer is incredibly touch-starved and hard on himself since coming home from prison. Luckily, the medical examiner in this small town is really good at reading people, and exactly what he needs.

amethyst you so much P1 Ao3 | Tumblr 6.4k

Spencer has had a crush on Y/N since she started working at the bau. She only ever works the night shift after a case, handling all the aftermath gracefully. one night, Spencer stays back and they strike up a conversation about rocks, causing their feelings to dig a little deeper.

of quartz i will P2** Ao3 | Tumblr 6K

after 2 years of dating, Spencer decides it's finally time to get Y/N something to match her Amethyst bracelet.

Amoreena**~ Ao3 | Tumblr Completed 83k

Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Seven* Tumblr WIP

Summary: Spencer’s been married to Y/N for 7 years now, they have 7 children together and each one is going through something different. Spencer’s always wanted to be the best dad, now he gets to figure out how to be.

the guy at the rock show Ao3 | Tumblr 5.6K

Y/N lost their parents when they were 17, finding a new home and solace in Penelope Garcia and taking the Garcia name. They're the top forensic specialist in D.C, in a band and they drive a motorcycle... not to mention they are madly in love with the cute doctor who works with their sister.

journey to Camelot** Ao3 | Tumblr 3.8K

When Penelope introduces Spencer to online games, he expects to be spending his nights alone. Yet, somehow every time he comes back from a bad case, he logs on to chat with the ever so lovely user FairlyGwen and getting a lot more than just a helpful tip from her.

Exploration** Ao3 | Tumblr 4.7K

request: season1/2 spencer walking in on reader while she's watching porn in their shared hotel room

Expedition** Tumblr 1.2K

Summary: there's a first time for everything... including joining the mile high club with your boyfriend on the work jet.

10 Days Ao3 | Tumblr 1.4K

it's spencer's first father's day and he's extremely emotional about the little love of his life that he's only just met. he spends the day with his baby, Edwin, and his wife, crying and happy about how wonderful new little lives are.

ain't it fun?** Ao3 | Tumblr Masterlist 11K

reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

I'm not kidding!** Tumblr 6K

Spencer keeps getting little notes from a secret admirer, they're nice and sweet at first as they tease him with their crush until she's sending him notes about all the dirty things she wants to do to him

Perfect Timing** Tumblr 1K

spencer and reader have been spending the last month together in the same hotel room during a pretty brutal case. tension has been rising and she's completely in love with him.

what happens when they both think the other won't be back for a while and they want to shower?

Redamancy** Tumblr 5.4K

the co-op librarian at the FBI Academy has been secretly crushing on the smartest agent in the Bureau, TA, Doctor Spencer Reid, and he's been crushing on her too.

Being Neighbourly** Tumblr 1.9K

Request: reader is Spencers neighbour and she can hear him masturbating every night that he's home how do you have her deal with that?

Professional Hair Dresser (Ph.D)** Tumblr 6.4K

summary: after Spencer's knee injury, he starts visiting a salon every week to get his hair washed

36 Questions to Fall in Love Tumblr 8K

Summary: When Derek bets Spencer that he cant make someone fall in love with him in a week, he doesn’t expect Spencer to marry the girl the next day

New Romantics** Tumblr 23k

Summary: She needs help studying for her Case Exercises at the Academy, He needs a date for the annual Banquet... they just so happen to be neighbours who aren't afraid to lend a helping hand, or in this case, a helping kiss.

Million Dollar Man** | Tumblr WIP 5k so far

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Sugar, Honey, Ice Tea** | Y/N version | 1-4, 5-9, Epilogue 25.6k

Summary: Fix-it-fic: Dr. Y/L/N and Savannah Hayes have been best friends since their medical internship at Bethesda General. When she receives a frantic call that Derek's best friend is being transferred to the prison she works at, an unlikely friendship bubbles.

Eventually falling head over heels for the innocent man.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Prison, Prison Violence, Assault, Blood, Depression, Murder, Self-Hatred, Hurt Spencer Reid, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Drug Addiction, References to Drugs, Drug Use, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Romantic Tension, Forbidden Love, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Strangers to Lovers, Requited Love, Falling In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, past abusive relationship, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

Spencer x Ethan

Ruin it.** Tumblr 5.4K

Summary: Spencer never had sleepovers as a kid, so now that he's an adult he's always sleeping over at Ethan's house, ad he'll take any excuse to crawl into bed beside him.

Warnings: mutual pining, love concessions, blowjobs, handjobs, anal sex (both top and bottom spencer in this), childhood friends to lovers

400 Celebration fics

Reid Me Tumblr 2.5K

Spencer has noticed a beautiful woman at a spirituality booth at the farmers market every Saturday for almost a whole year now. he finally asks her to give him a reading.

mystery of love Tumblr 700

Spencer surprises his wife with a trip to Italy.

Spy Kids Tumblr 900

Spencer and Y/N's kids think that they are secretly spies and request a mission story before bed.

a father's greatest weakness Tumblr 1K

Princess Y/N is betrothed to the Viking king in an effort by her father to keep the peace between their countries, he doesn't expect her to join in the fight to free Scottland.

Luke x Reader

Best Dad Ever 2.8K

Request: angst with a happy ending, reader and luke have been divorced for a few years but have a child, she tries and tries to fall out of love with him but he's around so often that she can't

Spencer x OC

Sugar Honey Ice Tea** Ao3 | WIP 9/10 chapters complete 25.6K

Fix-it-fic: Dr. Beth Pattinson and Savannah Hayes have been best friends since their medical internship at Bethesda General. When she receives a frantic call that Derek's best friend is being transferred to the prison she works at, an unlikely friendship bubbles.

Eventually falling head over heels for the innocent man.

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It Ao3 | Tumblr WIP 6K+

Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

Criminal Minds x Mindhunter AU

Spencer x OC Peggy Carr

Franklin x Reader

Voulez-Vouz** | 3.2k

Summary: in a small town, everyone knows each other… or at least they think they do.

Warnings: porn with plot, smut, Dom reader, Sub!Perv!franklin, making out, teasing, face sitting, oral (female and male), hand jobs, overstimulation, prostate message, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, let me know if I forgot anything.

Chip x Reader

forever is the sweetest con** | 6.2K

Summary: Reader’s dad is a carpenter; sometimes he takes on apprentices and sometimes, if they’re lucky, they get his daughter’s number at the end of their training. Chip Taylor, however, hits the jackpot when her father invites him over for one of her homecooked meals.

Warnings: reader’s mom passed away, mentions of parental death, strangers to lovers, random acts of kindness, mutual pining, falling in love, steamy make-outs, oral sex (male and female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, sub!chip, food mentions, praise, love confessions.

Raymond x Reader

Alone Together ** | 2.4K

Summary: Raymond moves into a haunted house and ends up sleeping with the ghost who lives there... only he doesn't know that when you fuck a ghost you also become one.

Warnings: details of suicide and murder, blowjobs, pegging, bottom!raymond, top!reader, becoming a ghost, major character death.

Star Trek Masterlist

Star Wars fix it fic

Supernatural masterlist

thanks for all the love, as always,

-Emily <3

[dudeandduchess]

Yakuza!Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Sugar and Spice (Mafia!AU, Modern AU, NSFW Series)[Chapter 7]

Summary: Kyōjurō and (Y/n) meet at a party, only to find out that their lives would change forever— since they had been arranged to be married.

Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Teasing, Pussy Spanking, Thigh Fucking, Shallow Fucking, Creampie, There’s Only One Bed Scenario, Dark Themes

||Sugar and Spice Masterlist||

***

With how beautiful the sunset had been, and how romantic Kyōjurō had been acting, (Y/n) never expected that the night would take a turn for the worse. It was so bad that she was stressing out about it, even though she was completely taken care of at the Rengoku clan’s mountain villa.

She had a nice yukata to sleep in, and all the food that she could want in the kitchen, and people at her beck and call— if she even chose to ask for their help with anything.

The only problem was that she knew her mother was going to be furious once she got home.

Kyōjurō had taken the liberty to call her mother while (Y/n) was taking a shower— ‘to relax’ as the blond had said, before practically pushing her into the bathroom— to explain that he wouldn’t be able to bring her home, since it had begun to rain heavily. Heavy enough to pose as a hazard for driving down the dirt road.

If he wanted, he could have an off-roading vehicle sent to get them, but he wasn’t alone. He didn’t want to risk getting (Y/n) into an accident, when they could just wait things out until the morning.

That, and he figured that it would be nice to actually spend the night with her… and maybe give her a bit of pleasure, since they had been disturbed earlier.

Safe to say that (L/n) Akari wasn’t happy with how the situation had panned out, and had been about to lash out at Kyōjurō. Until, of course, he finally lost the polite and cheerful façade— after checking if (Y/n) was still in the bathroom.

Slowly, Kyōjurō sat down on the end of the bed in his room, before loosening his tie and stretching out his neck. He took his sweet time in making the older woman wait for his response to her threat of having (Y/n) fetched; especially when the venom in her voice suggested that a lecture was the least that she would give (Y/n).

He feared that Akari might even keep heaping on more political tasks on to (Y/n), all to keep her from seeing him. It wasn’t a secret that she didn’t like him for her daughter, after all.

“Don’t forget, (L/n)-san, I…” Kyōjurō began softly, with a sharp edge to his tone that warned his future mother-in-law to listen well to his words. “…can take away everything you love, if you break our agreement. It would be best if you remembered that the moment that my family put you where you are, you signed your life over to me.”

Silence reigned over the line for a couple of minutes, with Kyōjurō relishing in how he had managed to slowly protect (Y/n) from her own mother.

Of course, he knew just how horrible and selfish the woman was. It was why he wondered just how his cute future wife turned out so well. And maybe it was his own fault, but he had delved even further into the file he had on her, and couldn’t help but be completely enamored.

However, he was ill-prepared for the intensity of the real thing. She was so much more than he had thought she would be, especially after he had hung out with her a few times.

“I think it would be best if you cleared my wife’s schedule, and start letting her get to know her future husband better,” Kyōjurō continued after fully undoing his tie— letting it hang around his neck, as he finished up his conversation. “After all, she won’t be living under your roof in a few months.”

With that, he dropped the call and tossed his phone onto the bed. He then heaved a heavy sigh, letting the air fill his lungs, as he closed his eyes and exhaled all of his tension away.

He didn’t want (Y/n) to see that side of him; ever, if he could help it.

“Kyōjurō?” The aforementioned woman’s soft voice rang out from the bathroom and when he looked up, he had to immediately make an effort to not let his tongue hang out like a dog, as she looked so enticing in that red yukata that he’d had someone to get for her. “I’m done. You can take a bath now.”

And with that sweet smile she aimed right at him? Partnered with how cute she looked with her hair still a little damp? He really had to try to keep himself in check.

After all, he didn’t want her to think that he was a monster; in all senses of the word.

***

(Y/n) wasn’t exactly sure how she had ended up the way she had, but it was too late to ask that question. Especially with Kyōjurō smelling so good behind her, while his right arm was wrapped around her middle— with his feet intertwined with hers.

She had tried to ask why they were sleeping in one bed, but all she had gotten from that was a simple ‘the other rooms are locked, and I already sent the head maid home’. It was a poor excuse, but she chose to just buy it— instead of fighting Kyōjurō and dampening the good day that they’d had together.

After all, it was all innocent cuddling… at least at first. As the minutes ticked by, Kyōjurō’s hand had begun caressing up and down her stomach, until it drifted lower to her pelvis.

She could feel his fingers toying with the seam of the yukata— slowly bunching up the material, until she could feel her pussy get even more exposed than it already was; what with her going commando beneath the garment.

“You’re not asleep. Are you, princess?” Kyōjurō whispered in her ear; the words making her feel warm down to her bones, even though the air held a biting chill that came with the rain pouring outside. “I want to make you feel… amazing.”

The way that Kyōjurō breathed out the last word had her clenching her thighs together— and the movement didn’t go unnoticed like she had wanted it to. So, she found herself paying for it with Kyōjurō leaning in even closer and teasingly nipping at her ear.

(Y/n) had it in her mind to say no at first, only to change her tune when the blond finally let his hand cup her pussy; dragging his middle finger up her slit and finding that she was already wet.

In her defense, it was because he smelled so good and felt so amazing against her— especially with his erection brushing against her ass every once in a while.

“Oh? Did I already make you this wet, baby?” Instead of answering, however, (Y/n) merely bit down on her tongue and closed her eyes— especially when Kyōjurō pressed two fingers to her clit, before beginning to circle them around the sensitive nub.

The action had (Y/n)’s hips bucking involuntarily, which brought a grin to Kyōjurō’s lips as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Come on, baby girl. Tell me that you want to feel good too.”

But when silence kept hanging in the air, the blond lifted his fingers from her cunt— all so he could bring them down on her sensitive flesh. The spank was weak, compared to what he could have done, but it elicited his desired reaction.

He wasn’t done though, and landed another light spank on his lover’s cunt. It had her hips bucking once more, while a quiet and breathless moan escaped her lips. And finally, a really enticing, “Please make me feel good, Kyōjurō.”

“Good girl.”

His dick could only get harder once he pressed it up against (Y/n)’s ass— relishing in the feel of her warmth beneath the yukata, as he bunched the hem of it up. And once it was already out of the way, Kyōjurō gently wedged his calf between her own calves— if only to lift her leg up the tiniest fraction for what he wanted to do.

Once that was all settled, the blond freed his cock from his own yukata; holding his length at the base and guiding the tip up to start rubbing it up and down her slit.

He smeared his precum all over her pussy, focusing on circling his head at her clit, and really drinking in the quiet and pleased moans that kept flowing from (Y/n)’s mouth— which only got louder when he pressed the top of his dick flush against her pussy to coat it with her wetness.

And, knowing that was barely enough lubrication, the blond lifted his right hand up to (Y/n)’s mouth. He then pressed the tips of three digits to her lips, prompting her to open her mouth— which she did. All the while, he kept rubbing his dick against her pussy, so tempted to just push into her pussy, but wanting to make her extra needy for him before he gave in to his own urges and fucked her.

“Get them nice and wet, princess.” He’d have tried to make her wetter by playing with her nipples, but he had slid his arm under her head earlier— for her to use as a pillow— so it was laying there, much to his regret.

When his fingers were already wet, he pulled them out of her spent mouth and pressed a kiss to her cheek once more. All while he brought his hand down and used his spit-laden fingers to get his cock even wetter.

The moment that he had managed to get his cock relatively wet, he removed his leg from between (Y/n)’s own pair— moaning aloud when her thighs clamped down tighter around his dick. “Oh, fuck, baby.”

Kyōjurō wasted no time then, placing his hand back on (Y/n)’s clit and playing with it— circling, rubbing, pinching, and gently tugging on the sensitive nub— while he moved his hips to start fucking her thighs. It was made hotter and easier with how her wet she kept getting for him— enough to coat his cock and her thighs entirely with her juices.

That wasn’t the best part, however; it was when Kyōjurō pulled back a little bit too far and had accidentally pushed the tip of his cock inside her pussy— out of reflex.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Kyōjurō cursed through breathless moans, deciding to torture himself even more and push just the head of his cock inside her tight pussy. And he begun to thrust shallowly in her, losing himself in ecstasy just from that.

And he almost lost control and pushed in to the hilt, until he felt (Y/n)’s legs beginning to quiver, while her moans steadily got shakier and shakier. “Please, Kyō! Please fuck me!”

He had half a mind to finally give in to his own needs, but he managed to sway himself from that decision at the last minute. Instead, he began to rub (Y/n)’s clit faster— which had her ultimately coming apart around the head of his cock.

Her entrance was clamping down on him so amazingly, and he could feel her walls fluttering around what part of him was inside her, which made it so hard to pull out and only thrust in only up to the end of the head of his cock.

Kyōjurō felt himself getting so close to his orgasm, losing himself so much in (Y/n)— that he had even leaned down to start sucking hickeys onto the spot behind her ear just to last a little bit longer.

However, the pleasure finally got the better of him and had him instinctively pushing his entire length inside (Y/n)’s sopping cunt. All sorts of curses ricocheted within his head at that, but he didn’t regret what had happened.

Especially when he came so hard and filled her up so well, with his dick buried in her to the hilt.

There went his plans of making her crazy for him but, oddly enough, he couldn’t shake the feeling that what had happened just felt right to him. If she got pregnant from it, then he was prepared to raise their child together— no other thoughts or trepidations swirling around in his mind, like they had before.

With (Y/n) next to him, he felt that he could conquer the world.

Besides, little did he know that she was well on her way to getting positively crazy for him. Addicted: heart, body, and soul.

Especially with the way that she had overheard him standing up for her against her mother.

[earnestly-endlessly]

hello! do you have any fics where charles meets edie/erik's family for the first time?

Hi anon. I have plenty of fics where Charles meets Edie and/or Erik's family. I hope you enjoy!!!

Charles Meets Edie/Erik’s family for the first time

In the Bleak Midwinter – keire_ke

Summary: It is not easy to find out, well into the second decade of the twenty-first century, that your mother arranged a marriage for you. It is even less easy to convince her that you have no interest in the very fertile Magda, she of the wide hips and lustrous auburn hair. Fortunately, with a good friend at his side over the holiday weekend, Erik is sure he will prevail.

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania - Aainiouu

Summary: For a year Charles has nurtured the biggest and most embarrassing crush known to man towards Erik. They are friends and roommates and when Erik asks Charles to accompany him to home on Thanksgiving of course Charles goes.

Fools and Their Mamas – LoveSupreme

Summary: Charles FINALLY gets to meet Erik's mother in person! Sure she doesn't know any English (besides knowing when Erik is cursing and thus requiring a good smack) and sure Charles doesn't have a great history when it comes to mothers, but Erik is sure everything will be stupendous, when he has brain power left over from trying to find a way to ask Charles to move to the Lensherr estate.

A Nice Boy (The Family Matters Edition) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's not sure whether the problem is that he doesn't want his parents to meet Charles or that he doesn't want Charles to meet his parents. Either way, he never invites Charles to brunch. Why should he? It's not like they're dating.

First Impressions – Ook

Summary: The first time Erik Lensherr, CEO of Eisenhardt Enterprises, met Charles Xavier he might just have called him a homeless drop out and accused him of being a junkie, before realising he was a waiter. He almost apologised.

The second time Erik Lensherr met Charles Xavier, he was volunteering at the soup kitchen, and Erik definitely (In Charles's opinion) accused him of being a thoughtless freeloader and slacker. He did apologise. Eventually.

The third time Erik met Charles, he hit him with his car. This was definitely not on purpose. Erik didn't actually ever say he was sorry, but he did end up taking Charles home with him, that time.

Food, Family, and Friends with Benefits – endingthemes

Summary: “Everyone,” Edie says, voice bursting with pride. “Erik’s here, and he’s brought his friend.” She takes Charles’ arm and pulls him forward, presenting him like a shiny object. “This is Charles.”

Charles manages a weak wave and an even weaker, “Hello.”

(In which Charles gets dragged along to his fuck buddy's parent's house to celebrate a Jewish holiday, and things get weird.)

Impulse Decisions – listerinezero

Summary: Erik wakes up in Las Vegas with a hell of a hangover, a telepath in his bed, and a ring on his finger. Now what?

Look Up, You’re Standing Next To Me, What A Feeling – luninosity

Summary: Charles, when uncertain, buries the uncertainty beneath extra certainty about everything else, which reads an awful lot like arrogance to anyone who doesn’t know better. Erik does know better. His mother doesn’t.

I ♥ NY (It’s My Friends I’m Not Sure Of) – oddegg

Summary: Erik is a single, successful man who likes quick sex with no strings attached. Then, he meets college professor Charles and it's love at first sight, at least for him. Charles, who heard of Erik's notorious ways, wants nothing to do with him besides being friends. Cue Erik bending over backwards to steal Charles' heart.

Series

Mutually Beneficial Transaction – Pookaseraph

Summary: In his sophomore year at Columbia University, Erik, feeling slowly strangled by his mounting college debt, places an add on a sugar daddies website. He doesn't know exactly what to expect from it, but when he's contacted by a man named Charles who seems less creepy than the other people who have responded to his profile, he decides to give it a shot. Charles is nothing like what he expected, and Erik finds himself slowly falling in love with his sugar daddy while trying to find out exactly what caused this amazing guy to buy his emotional and sexual intimacy when he clearly deserves so much more than that.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

Miss Missing You – WaxRhapsodic

Summary: In his head he knew it was unfair to compare Charles and Magda, but he couldn’t help the giddiness he felt around Charles. Erik had never felt this way about anyone before, and he relished the live wire of emotion coiled in his chest.

or

Erik and Magda are separated when he meets a charming young professor out on the town.

Soul of my soul – ikeracity

Summary: You can imprint on your soulmate anywhere — school, work, on the street, in a restaurant, on the subway.

Charles and Erik imprint on each other just in time for the holidays.

Heart of my heart – pinkoptics

Summary: You can imprint on your soulmate anywhere — school, work, on the street, in a restaurant, on the subway.

Of course, imprinting on the guardian of one of your grade one students isn’t ideal.

Then again, when has Erik’s life ever been ideal?

Love Over Challah – sebastian2017

Summary: As his first Shabbat alone with David approaches, Charles realizes he's overlooked one important detail: he's not actually sure how to have a Shabbat dinner. Thankfully, he meets Edie Lehnsherr, who just so happens to be having dinner with her son and grandchildren that very Friday and would love to have Charles and David over to celebrate the Shabbat with.

or

Charles and Erik meet while celebrating the Shabbat and bond over mutant activism and their adorable children.

When, how, and because we do – aesc, pearl_o

Summary: Erik brings Charles home to meet his mother. AU of Tough little baby telepath.

And your smile, oh darling, your smile – lavenderlotion

Summary: Charles turned back around to find Mrs. Lehnsherr still standing in the doorway, watching them with a smile and some very warm thoughts that made Charles feel very soft in his chest, right by his heart. "You have a lovely home, Mrs. Lehnsherr. It's very, very nice," Charles told her seriously, meaning every word and hoping that Mrs. Lehnsherr would believe him and not think him just terrible for the way that he had first thought the house too small.

Hearts and Bones – pocky_slash

Summary: Modern, non-powered AU. An impending visit with Erik's parents leaves Charles anxious and Erik unsure how to proceed.

Good manners (will get you far) – ximeria

Summary: Charles had been looking forward to the performance at the Met for ages. Little did he know, things would not go according to plan.

The Gift of the Magi, But Screw it Up – librata

Summary: He doesn't know if he's buying too much, too little, or even the right things at all, because he's never entertained a guest as important as Edie Lehnsherr.

‘How to Parent’ by Edie Lehnsherr – SprinkleofSunshine

Summary: Edie prided herself on being a good mother. The best mother even. After all, she had several mugs in her cupboards declaring that truth gifted by her two children over the years. However, something is going on with her son, Erik, and it's her duty to find out what....

Defying Expectations – Baamon5evr

Summary: Charles and Erik meet each other’s family. Neither of them gets what they expect.

Meeting the Parents – melonbutterfly

Summary: Erik takes Charles home to introduce him to his family.

Charles Does Not Buy a Shamwow – magneto

Summary: Charles and Erik are spending the first few days of their university's winter break alone at Erik's mother's house. Then, Erik's mother decides to come home early unannounced... while Erik and Charles are naked on the living room couch.