#I don't know how to be that girl anymore. everything feels a little forced. it shouldn't have to feel this hard. it used to feel natural.

[ame-to-ame]

.

[ramonathinks]

(18+, minors/blank accounts dni)

jealous ex husband gojo who just can't keep stand seeing you with someone else. he hates that you gave up on him, hates that you don't wear your ring anymore even though he does and he wears it proudly.

"you have a date tonight, the girls tell me." busted. you cringe and eye you little daughters, only six the both of them but you told them to keep quiet about the situation.

"yes..." you reply, anxiously awaiting his response.

you could just picture his face now, nose a bit flared and lips pursed. with clenched teeth he said, "alright, have fun." but it wasn't that simple.

he always kept close watch on you and it made you nervous with how simple it left the conversation. "well, i could come pick the girls up before then. about 8-ish?" he asks and you say yes before hanging up.

gojo was always too busy which was what led to the divorce. you'd both married young, 20 and stayed together since but when the girls turned 3 you had enough and just left. he wasn't being there enough for you or the girls and it hurt.

when he pulled up you cursed yourself for getting ready so early. your hair in long curls and a knee length skirt with a small slit on the left leg. he didn't bothering knocking or waiting for you to open the door, he had keys and you knew this so you continued with your makeup.

he was standing there watching you but you ignored him. or tried to but he walked closer and closer until he was right in your face. "how beautiful, you are." he held your jaw and forced you to look at him.

"why don't you ditch this date and come with me?" he asked, bringing your lower reign to his. "don't you miss me baby?" he nipped at your skin and the memories and feelings were coming back.

you had to be strong. you swallowed and pulled his back from you. "you have to stop this, im sure you have someone out there satoru, but she isn't me." you tried to walk off but he grabbed your wrist and brought you to your bedroom.

"y/n, so you think anyone can make you feel as good as i make you feel? don't you know i love you? my feelings never left and i know yours haven't." he rubs you through your panties and kisses you on your lips.

"everything can be different now." he promises, easing his way between your legs. his heavy cock entering you slowly, it was only the tip so far but it was splitting you open. you'd been without sex for two years and now tears were in your eyes.

"you think he can fill you up like me?" he adjusts himself and enters more of his cock into you. he was still so big, you were choking. you could feel him in your tummy and in your throat.

"you're always going to be mine, so stop running." he told you as he jerked his hips. "stop trying to let this go baby?"

"satoru—"

"mommy! the door!" one of the girls yelled.

"shh," satoru brought a finger to your lips and leaned forward to make love to your mouth. it was too much and you both were drooling after just a few minutes, he pulled himself out of you and looked at his wet cock.

"think about what i said." it was hard to forget. you clenched your legs together after you cleaned yourself up, not even wanting to face your date.

not even wanting to face your ex-husband either.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Moon Starves Sun (FULL VERSION)

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

(Warnings: forced relationship, implied nsfw content, implied noncon/dubcon, dark content, implied baby trapping)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

You comply, dropping your bag, making your way to the bed. When you look at him from beneath your lashes, warily expectant, Satoru feels a thrill rushing through his body. 

He's always been impatient. It's in his nature to take. He nips at your mouth, eager to taste your soul from your soft lips. Soft. Everything about you is so soft—Malleable beneath his fingers. 

Satoru didn't explicitly say what his plan was, but you aren't stupid. He can tell you know what's about to happen when you stiffen in his hold, turn to stone within his grip. He would've allowed it if you hadn't gripped onto his shirt, pulling yourself away from his feasting. 

"Satoru?" You whisper, still leaning away. "The door...?" 

Annoyed, he glances over. His room is open. It shouldn't really matter. 

"It's fine." Satoru tells you. "No one's here." No one's ever here. 

You still look panicked, hands gripping his shirt. Satoru finds that adorably pathetic. How helpless you are. How that's all because of him.

He's sure to make a big show of it. Satoru gives a dramatic sigh, slumps his shoulders, but eventually pushes himself off the mattress to push at the door. He even clicks it shut. He's too nice, sometimes. 

"Happy?" You nod, you don't look very relaxed but your shoulders have dropped a bit. 

Satoru doesn't feel too guilty pushing you down, not when you're already in his bed. He isn't known for his patience. He tastes your skin, leaving marks when he can: teeth bites. He pushes you down down down down so he can sink his teeth into your flesh.

You're asleep and under the covers by the time he's done. The moon's out too. Satoru watches it, largely unimpressed. It's so tiny, a sliver of glowing white. 

And then you shift, turning ever so slightly, enough to catch his attention. He should probably kick you out and send you home. That's what he usually does. When he gets into bed with you, draping his arms around your limp body, he convinces himself it's because he's tired and waking you up would be too much of an effort. 

He lets himself enjoy your warmth; it's nothing like the cold glow of the moon. 

☾

Sometimes, even Gojo Satoru wonders if he's dreaming. 

Sometimes, life is too perfect for him to realize it is real. Everything falls perfectly in place, fitting together like those jigsaw puzzles his caretakers used to distract him with halfheartedly. 

You're in his kitchen, chopping vegetables. 

It had already been a few weeks, but he still wasn't used to this. You, being in his home, in his kitchen, in his bed. Satoru thinks he's masking it well, but his mind is still reeling, it's a difficult adjustment. 

Not a bad one. 

It's like he's been drowning for years and he can suddenly breathe when he sees your toothbrush next to his. It's like he's been stabbed and waking up to your sleeping face is the aloe. It's like he's been suffering through a blizzard, and you cooking in his kitchen, humming a song he doesn't know, is the warm sunny day. 

Things have changed since he brought you home. His home doesn't feel incomplete anymore. As though the apartment itself has agreed that this is where you belong. There are more clothes in his closet, more shoes by the door. The space is ever so slightly less empty and it fills him with tangible relief. He can cook a meal, but it's still nice coming home to something warm already made. 

It makes Satoru wonder what things could have been like, had it not been taken away from him. 

You flinch when he wraps his hands around your waist, nestling into the space in your shoulder. You hadn't heard him come in, apparently. Regardless, you don't linger, fingers hesitating before resuming your task. He finds this part of you adorable. Ignoring the thing that makes your heart race, as though he'll just fade away into the shadows. 

It's his ego that makes him slink into your warm skin, making sure you know he isn't going anywhere. 

"Smells good," he says. 

You nod, pushing away the bell peppers in favor of the onions. Unlike him, you acclimated extremely well. It'd taken nothing to lightly push you to add more and more stuff from your apartment to his. You quietly moved from one setting to another. He remembered this trait of yours from high school. Go with the flow. 

Though, perhaps, it was less out of genuine apathy. Satoru doesn't have to say what will happen to you if you refuse him. He doesn't have to throw lectures about his family and the influence he has on you. He likes that you aren't stupidly brave. He likes that you're meeker, quieter. You pick your battles. 

But he thinks he'd like to see you crack, just one more time. 

"Hey," he says, "let's go out for dinner tomorrow night. There's this restaurant just out of town that has great shrimp cutlet." 

He expects you to nod, like you always do whenever he decides to do something impulsive and meaningless. Instead, you bite your lip. 

"I can't." You mutter after a minute of silence. "I have work. Mr. Higuruma just closed a deal and—and I think I'll be coming home later and later this week." 

Home. It's enough to make his heart flutter. It's the first time you've called the apartment that. Your words almost make him forget about the second thing you said.

Higuruma. The lawyer guy with dead eyes. Satoru remembers him. He always looked at Satoru like he was a child, too stupid to do anything. He never liked how the guy looked at you. Besides, he was way too old for you, never mind that you were taken. You were always taken.

"Oh, right." Satoru gives an exaggerated sigh, fully leaning on you. "Work. What a shame." 

You nod, clearly thinking the conversation is done with. Satoru wasn't so charitable. 

"Y'know, you don't really have to work. Not anymore, pretty girl." His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as he pulls you towards his chest. Your hands freeze. The knife glints in your fingers. 

"I make plenty of money. You should just stay home. That way, you don't have to work shitty hours." 

You stiffen underneath his fingertips. He's disappointed when your skin turns frigid. When he peeks over your shoulder, intent to look at your face, there's a nervous smile twitching on your lips. 

"I don't think that's a good idea..." you trail off hesitantly. 

"Hm?" He tilts his head with faux confusion. "Why not?" 

The knife moves up and down, as though you can't decide whether to place it back on the cutting board. Satoru realizes it's your way of fidgeting. 

"It...it would just be unprofessional to leave when everything is so hectic." You finally decide on. 

Satoru scoffs. "So? Who cares. I'm sure everything will work itself out. Just rely on me, pretty girl." 

You don't like the answer, but you don't make a comment on it. Satoru just watches you rotate the knife in your hands. He wonders if you want to use it on him. Slice at his neck, leave him out to bleed on the pretty tile floor. Cut straight through his heart, ending it quickly. 

Or would you like to carve out his eye and keep it as a souvenir? He thinks he'd happily let you. It sounds romantic.

You don't do anything. Instead, you pull back your shoulders as if you're physically ready for war. 

"'Toru," you say gently, softly, and it works in his eyes, "I...can't let you support me like this. It's not right. It's not like we're married or anything." You laugh, like it's a joke. Satoru doesn't cave. 

"I mean, not yet." Satoru rocks you back and forth in his hold. "But gimme' some time to shop for a ring, okay? It needs to be perfect for my perfect girl." 

You follow his movements. He can see your mouth twitch out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes get glassy. 

He knows he's terrible, but he really wants you to crack. 

"You're right, Satoru." You say, "I'll put in my two weeks tomorrow." He grins in delight. 

"That's a great idea, baby." Satoru kisses you on the cheek.

Right, you pick your battles. 

☾

Satoru tells you he loves you, and you're gone, not even three days later. 

He breaks and shatters into pieces he'll never be able to put back. Each day without you is torture. He feels like a corpse, just going through the motions. His clothes feel looser. His skin doesn't feel like his own anymore. Every time he looks in the mirror, he sees someone he barely even recognizes. 

It's like you left with his heart. 

No, you ran away with his soul. 

One day, you were Satoru's, safely tucked underneath his arm...the next, you just weren't. 

His parents don't acknowledge it beyond casual disgust. Every time Suguru talks to him, Satoru can barely comprehend it. Days pass by. Everything reminds him of you. His bed feels emptier; he hates it when he reaches out to the space you used to take up and finds it cold. Your locker remains untouched. Nothing is ever the same. 

Satoru tries looking for you, but you're untraceable. No social media, no friends left to tell where you went, not even your fucking parents know where you are. 

You left him. 

You left him to rot. 

Denial comes first. It can't be. You wouldn't. You wouldn't fucking dare. Anger seeps in the next. For weeks, Satoru can only imagine what he'll do when he finds you. He'll break your legs this time. He'll squeeze your neck so hard that your head pops. He'll kill you over and over again until your corpse is begging to be forgiven. And he won't ever stop, because you're Satoru's. 

That doesn't stay for long. He feels himself get weaker day by day. Food tastes like dirt on his tongue. Any of his earlier vices are gone. 

He misses you. 

Why wouldn't he? You were his everything. 

Like all things, it passes. You aren't there to fuel the flames, so the fire wanes in his chest. The ache in his heart gets smaller and smaller. Things keep him busy. College. Then, his new position in the office. 

Ten years pass. He’s forgotten what you look like. But he remembers parts. Every so often, he sees a flicker of you within someone else. Your eyes are on another woman’s face. Your lips on a girl's smile. It irritates him to no end. It’s even worse when he starts seeking them out, keeping those parts of them for just the night. 

Sometimes, if he closes his eyes, he can still hear your voice—what he thinks is your voice—soft, needy Toru Toru Toru. 

“Gojo, sir?” 

He blinks. Ijichi stands in front of him. Satoru looks down at the meticulously crafted pages. 

“Mr. Higuruma needed you to sign this,” Ijichi lifts a paper filled with bureaucratic bullshit he pays other people to understand.

Why did Suguru take off now? 

“Sure sure,” Satoru says, “I’ll get it done.” 

Ijichi shifts nervously. “Well, it’d be best to finish it right now, Sir. His paralegal is just about to leave the building.” 

Oh, right. The lawyer’s assistant. Gojo could never get a good look at that person, but the assistant resembled a shaking deer to him at most times. He’s not even sure if they’ve ever talked to each other, but he always found the other a bit odd. Big eyes. A shaky expression. 

It was a little annoying to look at. 

☾

Some executive was throwing an office gala, and since he is Gojo Satoru, he needed to come along. 

And since you are Satoru's, you're dragged along too. 

Honestly, the only upside to this is you and that new dress he bought you. A velvet turquoise dress that he can't take his eyes off of. The gold jewelry draped across your neck makes you even more delectable. But his favorite part of the outfit is the shimmering diamond ring. 

The ceremony hadn't been anything extravagant. He'd just booked out one of his favorite restaurants, ordering lobster and sweet wine. He remembered hearing his heartbeat when he bent down on one knee, opening the elegant ringbox, like an oyster revealing its pearl. Looking back, he didn't know why he was so nervous: it's not like you'd say no. 

"What do you think of it?" He asked when you were back in his bed, bare from everything except that glistening ring. 

"It's pretty." You spoke, perfectly nestled in his chest. 

He feels in his heart when he hugs you, a small kiss in your hair. You say something, but he can't hear it; he is too preoccupied with feeling you in his arms. It's still so new, even after all these weeks. It's the anxiety, knowing at any second you could leave and he'd be nothing. He won't allow that, he can't. 

"I thought about something else, y'know?" He speaks quietly in your hair. "Ropes, chains, maybe. I could keep you here, forever. But—but then I realized how sad you'd get. I couldn't go through with it." 

You give no reaction. When he tilts your chin up to get a better look at you, your eyes are glassy. 

"You get that, right?" 

You nod. He's really too nice, sometimes. 

He spends the entire evening with you, tucked away in a corner, away from prying eyes. Just because he has to be there doesn't mean he has to be sociable. Every time someone walks up to him and you, a drink in one hand, he resists the urge to bite their head off, feigning politeness. He complains about their lack of decorum to you multiple times throughout the night, his head resting on your shoulder. You pliantly sit there, listening and nodding. 

About ten minutes after the last board member left, someone else walks up. By then, Satoru's patience has mostly declined. He peers over with disdain before he can really process who he's seeing. 

"Suguru!" He waves over. 

You stiffen, and Satoru remembers you haven't seen him in ten years. 

Suguru walks over with an easy smile on his face. He's nicely tanned, and Satoru is reminded of the pictures he sent over of the Maldives. Maybe that's where the honeymoon should be. 

"Had fun slacking?" Satoru asks with a grin; Suguru shrugs. 

When his eyes meet yours, he feigns delighted surprise. Suguru speaks your name with practiced shock. It's imperfect, only Satoru can see the amusement dripping from his fangs. 

"Long time, no see!" Effortlessly, Suguru corrals you into a hug. You follow, giving into the cold touch of affection before pulling away back to him. 

"Hello, Geto." You say when you're rightfully by his side again. "It's nice to see you again." 

Suguru laughs, light and airy. "You as well!" He looks at your hands, tilts his head. "Oh? Congratulations, you two! When's the date?" 

"Eh, we'll figure that out later." Satoru gives a quick kiss on your cheek. "Everything happened so fast, y'know? Us reuniting and everything: It feels like fate." Suguru's eyes flash. "Let's not rush this. We'll take our time." 

Suguru nods along thoughtfully. He's looking right at you, and you stare right back. Not used to feeling left out, Satoru is quick to intervene. 

The conversation is light, two long-time friends reuniting after a long spell. You stay quiet like decor, settling into Satoru's side. Suguru doesn't acknowledge you after that. 

"We gotta' go. It's getting late." He eventually says, tugging you along. 

Suguru gives a pleasant smile. "Of course, of course. We should catch up sometime." He directs this at you. You give a strained smile before Satoru leads you off. 

"Suguru." The man turns. Satoru grins. 

"I loved my gift. Thanks, man." 

Suguru's smile is catlike. 

"You kids have fun." He calls out right when Satoru's dragging you away all over again. 

You're silent. Not in the way you usually are, pliant and cute. You're thinking. He gives you a nudge. 

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?" 

You shake your head. "Nothing." And then you say, "He's changed." 

From your view, Satoru supposed that's true, but really—

"Nah." Gojo shakes his head. "He's just dropped his act." 

Satoru's hand was wrapped around your waist when you two ran into him. You hadn't noticed him yet, eyes fixed on the floor. The lawyer hadn't changed since the last time Satoru saw him. That dead expression, those creepy eyes. Higuruma's eyes flit over your figure, before he finds Satoru's. 

He stares. Satoru stares right back. Something gives, and the lawyer calls out your name. 

"How are you?" His tone is cool, and this is another reason why Satoru can't stand him. The guy has no tells. He's just a talking robot. 

Unlike you, fidgeting by his side, practically vibrating with nerves. 

"I'm fine, sir." Your smile gets more painful to look at by the second. 

Your voice earns you a tired smile, a mild pinch of humor. Higuruma shakes his head, waving you off. 

"No need for formalities. We aren't at work." His smile drops just a bit, as he watches you for a bit more, eyes flickering to your hand. "I was...surprised when I saw the announcement. I didn't know you and Mr. Gojo were involved." 

Satoru grins, making himself known like a shark in the water. His grip on you tightens. 

"Oh, you didn't tell your boss 'bout us, baby?" He looks down at you with cruel mirth, pinching your cheek. You wilt. "We go way back—highschool sweethearts. Lost contact for a couple years. It's actually thanks to you we were able to find each other again. We'll send you the invites." He presses a kiss to your hairline. 

Higuruma hums at that. Satoru expected jealousy in his eyes; he's even more upset when he finds none. 

"I'll be sure to save the date." 

Then he shuts Satoru down completely. 

"I heard about your resignation. It's sad to see you go," Higuruma says. 

You nod, but you don't look at him. "Satoru and I talked about it, and we decided it's best if I focused on other things." 

"Very, very busy, this one nowadays." Satoru interrupts. "Between wedding plannin' and all that."

"Is that so?" Higuruma says dismissively, "in any case, you already knew this, but I've begun preparations to start a new firm." He reaches into his wallet, pulling out a card. "I always thought you were good at what you do. If you ever want to get back into the industry, call me." 

You take the laminate slip with a quiet thank you. Satoru feels blue turn into red. 

When Higuruma slips into the party, Satoru tightens his grip on you a little harsher than necessary. He's dragging you through the halls. Behind him, he can hear you stumbling over your heels, begging him to slow down. He knows he should care, but he doesn't. That damn lawyer. Those dead eyes. Mocking him. 

"Did you fuck him?" He asks when his anger has reached a high enough peak that he presses you against the wall. 

Your eyes are wild, flitting back and forth. He'd your expression a little cute if he wasn't feeling like a furnace, at the moment. 

"No. I—we never." You say. "Mr. Higuruma was my boss. And—and he's married—" 

"Really? 'cause you're precious 'Mr. Higuruma' was eyeing you up and down like he's already seen what's underneath." 

"'Toru." You plead. "Let's—let's just talk about this at home. Please? Let's just go home." Home. You said that word again. If he were a better man, he'd melt, but he's not. 

"Shut up." He spits out. "Hike up your dress." 

You stare at him. Then, you try to smile, like he's making a shitty joke. It wavers on your lips. 

"It's...we're still in public." You whisper and it's so cute you think he'd actually care about that. "We—we can't...we shouldn't—" 

"Baby." His voice drops, as he licks at your neck. "Pull up your dress, get rid of those panties. Otherwise, I'm just gonna take it off myself." 

He doesn't need to explain anything further. You already get what he's saying. Right now, Satoru doesn't care if you leave this building with your clothes intact. 

He thinks the worst part is that he knows he's being unreasonable. He's backing you into a corner where you'll have no choice but to surrender, and he knows that, but he keeps thinking about those man's eyes and how he looked at you and it was just all so much. 

He'll apologize to you later, with flowers and shiny gold earrings. He'd give you the world; just be good for him now. 

He just needs his fix. So just be good for him now.

☾

When Satoru discovers it's been you all along, he feels like an idiot. 

In a pathetic way of defending himself, he convinces himself there's no way he could have recognized you. You're so different compared to your high-school self. 18-years old, fresh-eyed, naive. The you now is all grown up: a mature voice, a new hairstyle, clothes he'd never even think you'd wear. 

It also didn't help that he couldn't even see your face since you turned away every time he looked at you. 

Embarrassing. He's just glad Suguru wasn't here to call his blunder. 

He thought about it a lot. He spent an hour in his office, pacing around, doing nothing but thinking and thinking and thinking. Part of him wants to corner you already. He can already feel your rabbit heartbeat on his fingertips, the look you always had in your eyes when he was right in front of you. Part of him wants to ruin your life the same way you ruined his. He wants to tear you apart, piece by piece. Leave you in tattered pieces. 

But he can't do that. Satoru still loves you. 

You left him a hollow shell. Broken. Tainted. There are pieces of him he still can't find. He should hurt you. He's hurt other people for doing less. But they weren't you. Even after all those years, he's never quite stopped loving you. 

But he wants to sate his bloodlust, just a tiny bit. 

His perfect opportunity comes where he, the lawyer, and you are all sitting in one of the waiting rooms. The lawyers explaining something, possibly about the ongoing case. Satoru doesn't really care. Besides, this is what Ijichi's here for. 

He waits until everyone is quiet. You're unassuming. By then, your shoulders have lowered, like you think you've gotten away with it 

"Hey," he says, "do we know each other?" 

The other two don't bother, but you stop completely. The pen in your grip shakes. Satoru resists the urge to laugh. 

You timidly glance up like you're still delusional enough to think there's a fifth person he's talking to. Satoru has always been told his eyes are like two suns: bright and intense. He lowers his glasses. You wilt under the solar flares. 

"Hm?" He prods, enjoying the way you shrivel. "Have we?" 

You swallow, glassy eyes flicking from side to side. Finally, you clear your throat. 

"No." You mutter, voice barely a whisper. "I don't think we have." 

"Are you sure?" To intensify the magnifying glass, he leans closer, like he's examining you. "'cause you look really familiar." 

To his delight, you chew on your bottom lip. He can imagine biting it until it's bloody and raw. He stops just when you're about to shatter completely. Breaking you too soon would take the fun out of it. 

"Oh, wait. I don't think that was you." He relents, pulling back and he can see the relief ooze over your face. "I think I got you mixed up with someone who interviewed here a couple months ago. My bad. Maybe you have one of those faces." 

You nod, eager to take the out. 

"Yes," you quickly say, "one of those faces." 

How adorable. You haven't changed since high school. 

He's usually not this obvious, but Suguru isn't here to berate him about it and it's not like anyone else will get on his ass. The women he brings in are his usuals: tall models with full lips and perfect bodies. Satoru parades them around like expensive jewelry. He wants to see you seethe in envy, stew in it. He wants you to see what you abandoned. 

But you don't do any of that. You just sit there, like the dutiful little workbee you are, right by your boss's side.

And then, you give one of them your jacket. Satoru can't stand it wrapped around her waist like she fucking owns it—own you. She wears it so flagrantly, like any token from you shouldn't be worshipped and coveted. He hates it. He hates it. 

"I've never done this in an office before." She squeals when she shuts the door behind her. "So, how do you—" 

"Get out." 

The girl pauses. What was her name again? Satou was too pissed to give a single shit. 

"Um, what?" 

"What, you deaf or something?" He waves her off as if he weren't seething. "Get out." 

"Oh," she says, blinks, and then she takes a step back. 

"Wait." Satoru stops her. 

"Take that off." He points to your jacket. She does it with zero complaints. When he tells her to drop it on the chair, she follows that too. Reluctant expectation. Kind of like you. Maybe that's why he was initially invested in her. 

He only takes the fabric after she's gone. It's soft underneath his fingertips. Nothing designer, but good quality. When you're finally underneath him again, he'll buy you better clothes, all the jackets you want. 

He needs you. He can't wait anymore. 

He needs you, whether you want him or not. 

☾

Satoru wakes up to something crashing. 

It's faint, obviously coming from the bathroom. Not the best way to be woken up. He remembers the first few nights he brought you home. He'd hear you crying in your sleep, choking on tiny sobs. It was the sweetest little thing, like a whimpering puppy. 

These noises are a little more concerning. 

He yawns, sliding out of bed. You didn't bother locking the door. You didn't even close it all the way, either. A sliver of light comes from the crack before he pushes it open. 

"Baby?" He calls. You don't answer. 

You had knocked over a caddy. Toothbrushes, hairclips, soap dispensers, perfume bottles were scattered all over the floor. You're curled up in the corner of the bathroom, huddled right next to the tub. You seem physically okay, no blood, no bruising, but he can't see your face. And you're shivering. 

Satoru's about to call out to you, when he steps on something. He looks down at the tiles. 

A positive pregnancy test. 

"I'm not keeping it." Your voice is hoarse, like you've been crying for hours. "I'm not keeping it." 

"Pretty girl." He coos, trying his best to keep the glee out of his voice and failing. "Let's not worry 'bout that, right now. C'mon, let's get you off the floor." He reaches for your hand. You smack it away. It stung. 

When you look at him, eyes bloodshot and brimming with angry tears, Satoru's heart skips a beat. He feels like he just trapped a wild animal, making it pace in a corner. Any wrong move could result in his hand getting bit off. It's scary. 

He's finally cracked you. 

"Fuck you." Your voice shakes and wobbles, but it's loud and you're clear. "Fuck you. You're a sick, twisted man-child. You ruined everything. You ruined my entire life and—and now you—" 

You're cut off by his giggling. It sounds psychotic even to his ears. He's beyond caring. You flinch when lifts your face up, forcing you to look into his eyes. He's smiling so hard it hurts. 

"Yeah, I did that. I ruined you. I ruined your entire fucking life. For me." He stresses, squeezing your face so hard you try to pull away. "But I had to. You—you wouldn't be here if I didn't." He sighs, pressing your body to his. "I need you."

You're both huddled on the bathroom floor, captive and lover. He's clutching you to his chest, smiling, nestling his face in your hair. You don't say anything for a while. 

"I'm not keeping it." You whisper. "I'm not. I wouldn't stand it if it ended up like you." 

It's spiteful. You're still in that phase where you think your venom can hurt him, as though he'd see your blows as anything but blessings. Satoru thinks to his own childhood. Where he was given everything, lathered in gold and silver. Yet, the house was always cold. But you were always so warm. 

"That won't happen." He tells you. "'cause you're here." 

Your anger has dwindled to smoke. Maybe you've finally realized how crazy he was for you. 

"Please let me go." It's not a beg. It's not even a request. 

"I can't," he honestly says. 

"You won't." You correct him. 

He smiles in your hair. 

"No baby," he says, "I can't." 

If you ran away again, if you escaped his claws, he'd probably die. Drop dead, rot on the floor. He needs you. Even more than he needs food, water, and oxygen. You won't understand that. You've never been in love before. 

You don't fight him. If anything, you sink into his hold. He's there to catch you, heart soaring. You lean into his chest 

"I hate you." You whisper. His heart beats a little faster. It's probably the first time you've ever been so honest with him. 

God, he loves you. 

"I hope our baby has your eyes," he says. 

"I hope our baby looks exactly like you." 

You say nothing, but when he leans down to kiss you, you finally kiss back. You're cracked, and your essence is ready to be molded in his image, just like he's always wanted you to be. 

If Satoru is the Sun, then you must certainly be his universe, the plane in which he rests, because there would be no existence for him if not for you. 

[lacydollette]

Lol, this is from my own current personal angst in my life but I was thinking it can be used for an angsty Rafe x Reader. I have very low self esteem, I don't think I look pretty so I have a hard time accepting that a guy could be interest in me or find me appealing, especially cuz guys have called ''mid''. Right now I'm talking to THE sweetest guy. THE most greenest flag of all. Super respectful, mature and kind. I had a freakout and pushed him away, wanted to stop talking. He got super upset, send me a drunk text basically being like ''I'm so attracted to u and your everything I've ever dreamt of. I just wanna make you happy and make you smile. Your so special to me. I keep saying that your beautiful, amazing and gorgeous but you won't hear it. Please don't let your insecurites get in the way of us. I fkn miss you'' I mean...hey feel free to take whatever inspiration you want from that, change it, build on it, whatever you want! We just want a sappy head over heels Rafe who is heartbroken being pushed away (but with a happy ending)

a/n tysm for sharing this with me! and please don’t let your doubts get in the way of your happiness. you are BEAUTIFUL and you MATTER ❤️‍🩹 i hope u like this little piece.

warnings rafe cameron x fem!reader, reader with low self esteem, situationship, angst, fluff, rafe being a sweetheart

Rafe couldn’t really tell when it started, but he could feel it in your forced smiles and short responses. He tried to convince himself it was nothing, but the ache in his chest told him otherwise. Every attempt to figure out what he had done wrong was met with your dismissive shrug and a short, “I’m fine.”

But what Rafe didn’t know about was the chaos in your mind. You liked him—really liked him—but your insecurities were keeping you from letting yourself fall completely. You couldn’t ignore the way girls seemed to flirt with Rafe at parties, the way people whispered that you weren’t pretty or cool enough, to be with someone like him. It didn’t matter how many times he told you that you were beautiful—the doubt in your mind drowned out his words. So, you began to pull away, convinced it was only a matter of time before he realized you weren’t what he wanted.

And that’s why Rafe ended up going to this party alone, although it should have been a night that you two spend together. You had promised to go, only to back out at the last minute with a stupid excuse about not feeling well. Rafe knew you were lying. Obviously he didn’t want to go without you, but after Topper wouldn’t stop begging him, he gave in.

He spent the first hour trying to lose himself in the crowd, nursing a beer and pretending to laugh at Topper’s jokes, but it was useless. Every girl who tried to flirt with him only reminded him of you, and every drink made the knot in his chest tighten. Eventually, he escaped out into the yard, needing space to think—or maybe just to breathe.

The cool night air sobered him slightly, but not enough to stop him from pulling out his phone. His fingers hovered over your contact before he finally hit call. It rang three times before you picked up.

“Rafe?” You said softly, voice trembling slightly. You winced at how vulnerable you sounded.

“hi, baby.” he said, his voice breaking slightly before going right in. “What’s going on with you? Please, just tell me. Did I do something? Did I hurt you somehow? Because if I did, fuck I swear to God, I didn’t mean to.”

Your throat tightened, guilt twisting in your stomach. He sounded so desperate, so unlike the confident, self-assured Rafe you knew. You didn't know what to say, how to explain something you couldn't even fully understand yourself.

“Talk to me, y/n,” he pleaded. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep guessing what’s wrong. I care about you too much to lose you like this.” His voice cracked, and he raked a hand through his hair, his frustration spilling over. “I’m completely crazy about you. I don’t care about anyone else. You’re it for me. You’re the only one I want.”

Your heart shattered at his words. He cared about you, really cared about you. But how could he? How could someone like Rafe Cameron, with his perfect smile and effortless charm, care about someone like you?

"Rafe..." you whispered, unsure of what to say. “No,” he interrupted. “You have no idea how much you mean to me. I think about you all the time—when I wake up, when I go to sleep. You’re all I want, y/n. And if there’s even a part of you that feels the same way—then please, stop pushing me away.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Rafe leaned against a tree, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. Then he heard you breathe out, followed by muffled sobs, which you tried so hard to suppress by pressing your palm over your mouth. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let his words sink in and erase all your doubts. But the fear was still there.

“I didn’t think I was enough for you,” you finally whispered, voice trembling. “You could have anyone, Rafe. And people keep saying I don’t deserve you, and maybe they’re right.”

“Are you kidding me?” he said, his voice rising as he couldn’t believe that you’d actually think that. “Baby, you’re more than enough. You’re everything. Don’t let what other people say get in your head. They don’t know you. They don’t know us.”

Your sniffle came through the line, and he could picture you wiping your tears, head bowed like it always was when you were upset. “I just… I didn’t want to hold you back.”

“You’re not holding me back,” he replied softly. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane.” He paused. “Please, just let me in. Let me prove to you how much you mean to me.”

The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, and you believed him. Believed that he was serious about you two. “Okay.” You said. Relief washed over him, and he exhaled shakily. “Okay,” he repeated, his lips curving into a smile. “I’m coming to you right now.”

Your eyes widened, “No, Rafe, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said firmly. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to you. We’ll figure this out together.” And with that, he ended the call, his heart pounding with determination. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. You were his, and he wasn’t going to let you go.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley/female reader

Simon knows suffering. He knows what it looks like, what it sounds like, what it feels like. He knows the fine line humans walk before they break and shatter, the cusp of control that is lost in the face of agony.

And right now, he sees it all over your face. Suffering.

"She's started walking," he murmurs, balancing Phoenix next to your thigh on the bed, sleepy and curled around the crux of his elbow, "kind of. She holds onto the couch and tables and stuff to cruise around."

"That's... great." The words are devoid of life, mirroring the dead look in your eyes, the one that's been there since you woke up a few days ago.

"Do you want to hold her? While she naps?" You shake your head immediately.

"No, I don't think... I'm really weak. I don't think I could hold her up." It's understandable. You've lost all muscle mass, mobility, strength. You can't walk to the bathroom, or hold a spoon for too long. You lose your words, your train of thought.

But that's not what this is. This is something else.

Still, he has to try.

"Well, I could..." He trails off, heart sinking at the look of panic in your eyes, the way you trace the knuckle of your ring finger subconsciously. It's a tic you've developed over night, one he's not sure you're even aware of.

"I'm tired." You won't look at him, picking a spot on your lap instead, lower lip tucked between your teeth.

"Okay, honey, that's alright. You don't have to." You reach for him, shaky hand trying to find his and he rushes to take it, rub his thumb over the back of your knuckles, squeeze you as tight as you can stand. "Do you want to get some rest?" You give him a nervous look, but nod.

"You'll be here? When I wake up?" His heart breaks.

"Of course."

No one was prepared for what would happen when you woke up and discovered you weren't pregnant anymore. The therapist warned him, but he was too focused on willing you to open your eyes everyday. He didn't listen, and he should have. He'll never forget the terror in your eyes, the way you pressed your hands to your stomach, how quickly you became hysterical, lost in the fear that Phoenix was gone.

The only thing you could say was "I tried, I tried" on a loop, a broken record stuck in the past. You tried to protect them, you told him, you tried to keep them safe. He held your face between his hands and forced you to look at him, but you weren't there, you weren't with him, and nothing he did or said got through to you. You were in that cold concrete box, tied to a chair, trying to protect your baby while a man was cutting your finger off. He told you Phoenix was fine, more than fine, that everything was okay, but it fell on deaf ears.

You only calmed down when they gave you a sedative, and he barely made it out of the room before he vomited in a trash can.

The next time you woke, it was to a therapist and Simon, Cami and Gaz down the hall with both of the kids. Waiting.

"A girl?" Simon squeezes your hand.

"A beautiful, healthy little girl. She's perfect." You blink.

"She's okay?" You were crying, big fat tears dripping down your cheeks, and he wanted to hold you so badly, but he had to get through this next part, and if he tugged you into his chest, he'd fall apart.

"She's okay mama. She's amazing." He glances at the therapist, who nods. "You had a c-section, shortly after you got here."

"I did?" You tug at the sheets immediately, pulling the gown up over your hips to look at your belly. "Oh." You sniffle, staring at yourself. The incision healed perfectly, but even a perfect wound still leaves a scar, and you glance between him and the therapist anxiously, who says your name quietly.

"I want you to take a deep breath," she coaches, waiting for you to do as she asks before continuing, "you've been here for over a year. Phoenix, your daughter, will be turning one soon. Orion is four." Your eyes widen.

"What? No... no that's not... " You start to shake, looking at Simon with wide, scared eyes. "Simon?" 

"It's been over a year, sweetheart." It burns on his tongue, but he promised to reaffirm it, to help solidify it as your reality. "But everyone is okay, you're okay. You're healthy, and Phoenix is healthy, and everything is-"

"Where are they? Orion and... Phoenix?" He glances at the therapist, who nods again.

"They're here. Do you want to see them?" You hold onto him like a lifeline.

"Yeah." 

The hard part was supposed to be over. Orion ran into your room so fast, and you smiled so big Simon's knees went weak, his knuckles white on the rail of the hospital bed. His son curled up in your lap just like he'd been doing for the last year and cried, clinging to you. He covered you in tears and snot, and all you did was hold him closer and bury your nose in his hair.

But when you saw the baby in Cami's arms, you turned into a ghost. "There she is," Cami bounced her, "there's your mama."

The look on your face was devastating. Gaz, thankfully, noticed it as fast as Simon did, and stepped halfway in front of Cami, stopping her from getting closer. "Let's take a breath," He murmured, looking back at where you sat shell-shocked in the bed.

"That's Nixie mama." Orion announces, matter of fact, just as he does everything else nowadays, and you shake your head.

"She's... she's beautiful." Your fingers twisted together. "I uh... sorry, I'm just..."

"It's okay." Simon pressed his lips to your temple, and you leaned into the touch.

"I'm sorry," you choked, fully crying now, still holding Orion, your grip tightening. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"It's alright honey, it's okay." He stroked your cheek, trying to calm you.

"Ouch mama, too tight." You let go of him like you were holding a hot pan, almost frantically, suddenly nervous. Scared.

"Let's give mama a break, okay? I think Uncle Gaz promised you a trip to the playground right?" Simon scooped him up, trying to hold him still as he thrashed.

"No!" He cried, trying to wriggle free. "No! I want to stay with mama, I want to stay, daddy stop!"

"She'll be here when you get back, little man." He was at a loss, saved only when Gaz pulled Orion from his arms and practically dragged him kicking and screaming out the door.

Once he was gone, your cries turned into sobs so heavy you needed an oxygen mask, and he spent the rest of the night holding you in his arms, long after you fell asleep.

"Hey."

"Hey." You immediately make room for him to lay down. He's bigger than the bed, but it's never stopped him from being beside you, and it won't stop him now.

He only went home to get the kids bathed, fed, and down for bed, letting Gaz know he'd relieve him again in a few hours. It was routine. Had been for a year. Cami and Gaz practically living at the house, swapping out weeks with Soap, everyone rotating so Simon could spend as much time at the hospital as possible. When they were gone, he made it work, but broke apart every time he couldn't be here, with you. The idea of you waking up without him made him physically ill, so he even enlisted someone from the next town over.

He was desperate.

Now, he's desperate in a different way.

"I think..." you're half asleep, and he kisses your hair, "tomorrow I'll do better."

"There's no rush. You've only been awake for a week. It takes time."

"I want to do better." He tightens his hold. "I promise I will." He's told you no one expects you to be okay or emotionally ready for any of this overnight. You're confused, you're stressed, and your guilt is eating you alive.

It's his fault at the end of the day. Everything you're going through, everything you will go through, your trauma, the PTSD, the things he knows are coming, all of it... the weight is on him.

"You do what you can. I'll be here for the rest." It's no question, he'd give his entire life for you. Lay down and die for you.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

[mellowsadistic]

“That’s it, baby, let it all out,” I cooed. “Have a big cry. Daddy's here, little girl." I stroked my wife's hair gently while she bawled her eyes out like a two-year-old, sat on the floor of our bedroom wearing nothing but her sopping wet diaper.

She gasped in big lungfuls of air, her bare chest heaving with every shaky breath. “You… did something… to me!” she said between hiccups, batting my hand away and glaring at me accusingly. It seemed that I'd finally been found out.

"What did I do to you, sweetheart?" I asked softly.

"You... turned me... into... a cry... baby!" she sobbed, almost hyperventilating now, her words barely intelligible. "You... want me... like this!"

“That's right, darling," I said, and I saw her tear-filled eyes widen in surprise at my ready confession. "I want to be your Daddy. I want to take care of you. But you've always been so strong and independent. I knew I had to do something to change that, so I used some special hypnosis files, hidden in that night-time background music you like to listen to, to erode your emotional control. It's the same technique I used to take away your potty training.”

She looked at me in horror, but I just chuckled and reached out to stroke her tear-stained cheek lovingly with the back of my fingers. “It’s so sweet that you can’t control when you go pee-pee or poo-poo anymore." I patted the front of her soggy diaper. “And you look so pretty in your princess nappy!”

“You did this to me?” my wife whispered, so shocked that her wracking sobs had come to a halt. Her hand drifted down to the huge disposable diaper bulging between her thighs. "You made me need these?"

"Yes, baby," I said. "I thought making you incontinent would be enough, but even then you were still trying to be self-sufficient; insisting on changing your own nappies, refusing to let me comfort you after an accident. So now you're going to be emotionally incontinent as well, sweetie. No more bottling things up. No more self-control. When you get even the slightest bit upset about something, you'll be in tears."

“But whyyy?!” she wailed, her sobbing returning in full force. "Why did you... do this... to me?!"

“It’s not good for girls to hold in their feelings,” I said, running my fingers through her hair again. She seemed too appalled by what I was saying to even notice. “It’s so much cuter, so much more feminine, when you lose control and have a little meltdown instead.”

“But I don’t… want to be… like this!” she cried.

“I know, darling,” I said soothingly, “but this is how I want you. Daddy knows best. Being a tearful toddler suits you much better than being an adult woman. In any case, there's no undoing the effects of the hypnosis now, little one. I made sure it was completely permanent."

“No!” she wailed, bouncing on her wet bottom and beating her fists impotently against the floor. “It's not fair! I wanna be a grown-up! I wanna use the toilet! I don't wanna be a stupid crybaby! I don't wanna! I don't wanna!" Her words trailed off into incoherent blubbering as she devolved into a massive temper tantrum.

I couldn't help but smile. She looked so adorable! "Hush now, princess," I cooed, shoving a large pink pacifier between my wife's lips. Her mewling was cut off abruptly, and she started sucking on it at once - another product of the hypnosis files. She was left sniffling and whimpering quietly, her dummy bobbing rhythmically in her mouth. "Now I know you're very upset because Daddy turned you into a big baby," I said, pushing her back gently onto the floor, "but I'm sure a nice dry diaper will have you feeling better in no time. Legs up, baby! It's time for you to let Daddy take care of everything."

[darlingdaisyfarm]

. 𖥔 but you belong to me (Bill x Ford x fem!reader) ˖

tags: nsfw (mdni), rough sex, triangle bill, mind fuck, p in v, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, overstim, can this be considered as threesome?, billford, bill x reader too, because bill is obsessed with ford and reader

Ford's fingers slide your panties to the side, his thumb teasing your clit. And that’s when you feel it. His presence, slipping into your mind, into your reality. Bill, his voice fills the entire room, he’s watching everything, his creepy laugh echoing in your skull. But then there’s more, what feels like phantom fingers, Bill’s will, twisting reality, adding another layer to the sensation. 

You feel the weight of Bill's presence even before he starts talking. You gasp, feeling both Ford’s physical touch and Bill’s mental invasion. “Awww, baby, I see you squirming, so cute, so innocent, acting like you’re not dying to be fucked right now.”

You swear you feel something like ghostly fingers tracing the inside of your thighs. “You feel that, doll? That’s all me. That little pussy is practically begging for it, isn’t it?” his words curl around your mind, suffocating. “I could make you scream without even laying a single finger on you, doll. Or I could let Sixer here think he’s doing all the work. What do you want, hm? To beg? To cry?” his voice teases you from inside. “come on, you want this, don't you? How about I help make it a little more fun?”

Meanwhile Ford pulls your thighs apart, running his fingers over your skin, “Don’t listen to him, keep your eyes on me.” he whispers, leaning closer to your core.

You can’t. You physically can’t, because Bill’sthere, not touching but everywhere. His voice enters your thoughts, making every brush of Ford’s lips against your skin send electric sparks throughout your whole body. “Touch her more, Sixer, don’t hold back now, you know I don’t like when you do.”

Ford doesn’t stop, as if obeying. His hands are shaking why, Sixer? as they hold your hips, his breath against your soaking pussy, lips dragging down your inner thighs, closer. “Focus on me. Please, I’m right here.”

Your legs tremble and the second his tongue presses against your swollen clit, Bill sends a pulse through your head, flipping the world upside down. The bed disappears, replaced with something dark, flickering lights, shadows, but you still feel Ford’s mouth on you, licking, sucking, groaning into you.

Phantom touches everywhere. Invisible fingers tracing up your inner thighs, circling your wrists, grabbing at your ankles. You cry out, body arching into Ford’s mouth, but there’s something more, something that feels like Bill as you hear his voice in your head, mocking, amused. “Yeah, yeah, good girl, keep whining like that.”

You squirm under Ford’s touch, but your mind’s caught between his soft movements and Bill’s invasion into your senses. He’s twisting reality around you, making you feel as if hands holding you down are Ford’s, maybe, or maybe Bill’s invisible force, pressing down on you while Ford’s tongue fucks you deeper. 

You gasp, hips jerking against Ford’s face, his wet, eager tongue running all over your slit. But it’s Bill who makes these sensations stronger. He pounds your mind with dirty thoughts, makes every flick of Ford’s tongue feel like it’s not just Ford anymore, but something darker, more chaotic, controlling you from the inside. 

“Can he make you scream like I can, doll? you look pathetic like this, so fucking adorable.”

Ford growls in frustration what happened, Fordsy? not getting enough attention?, he drags his tongue up your clit again, sucking it into his mouth while his fingers finally slide inside you, curling, stretching, fucking into you. Your eyes widening, you swear you’re loosing your mind and your fingers clutch at the sheets. You can barely get the words out, because it feels like Bill’s fingers are already inside you too, teasing where Ford can’t reach. It’s like your body is betraying you and you can’t even tell what’s real anymore.

“M-more, please—! so good. . .” moans falls from your lips.

“She’s so wet, Sixer, she’s fucking drenched for you,” Cipher’s sick voice hums inside Ford’s head too.

“Fuck off.” Ford wants to say, but instead he talks to you: “Ignore him. I’m right here, don’t listen to him.” he mutters, pulling away from you for a second before starting to devour you again, tongue swirling around your clit while his fingers drive into you, pressing against that gummy spot and you’re falling apart. But Bill’s mocking laughter fills your ears.

Your body jerks away because it’s just too much, too much sensations they overwhelm you, but Ford’s rough hands pull you back, grabbing your hips as he yanks you closer to his mouth, fingers pumping into you faster, deeper, his tongue pressing against your throbbing clit, sucking. You can’t control the way your legs shake, the way your pussy clenches around his fingers. Ford’s groans are muffled, vibrating through your cunt and it makes your body twitch, thighs squeezing around his head, but he’s not giving in. You taste too damn good.

And Bill’s there. Watching. You scream as Ford's tongue makes you see stars, but it’s Bill who twists your mind to make it feel like there are more hands, more mouths, fingers digging into your skin, phantom lips brushing your neck, your thighs, everything. 

“That’s it, whimper like that. Ford’s doing all the hard work, but we both know who’s really in control, right?” Bill laughs and your vision blurry with how fast Ford’s moving his fingers, shoving them deep into your dripping pussy, creating these filthy squelching sounds, but Bill is flooding your mind, until you’re whimpering, shuddering, begging for more.

Ford's mouth is still working you over, he swirls his tongue on your tortured clit as his fingers curling inside, knuckle deep, drawing you closer to orgasm because you feel oh so fucking good your toes curl. But Bill’s voice is right there, crawling through your head like an infection.

Your body shakes, every nerve alive as Ford’s groan vibrates against your pussy. “I said, focus on me,” he whispers in a serious tone, plunging his fingers a little bit rougher into your wet cunt, reaching deeper. "Just me."

“Aww, isn’t that cute? you really think she’s with you, Fordsy? she’s already halfway gone, look at her, all fucked out.”

Stanford isn’t letting Bill win this. Not tonight.

Without a word, Ford grabs your thighs, pulling you closer to his body. His gaze lingers on you, on your face, your eyes stare into his, confused. Ford rarely feels this emotion, but right now he's angry, not at you. He's angry at himself for letting this happen, for messing with this demon and dragging you, the most precious thing he have, into this fucked up mess. Although he promised himself that there wouldn’t even be a hint of Bill in your life. Then how did he let such shit happen. . .?

“You're so thoughtful, Sixer. That's why I like you, even when she's lying all wet and needy under you, you still think about me. Isn't it true love?”

“F-fuck you,” Ford mutters under his breath and you give him a bleary look, your eyelashes fluttering. 

“Look at you two— pathetic. . . so desperate to feel me, aren’t you just two sick weirdos?” Bill mocks.

You don’t get time to say something as Ford slides his cock between your folds, slapping his leaking tip against your clit couple of times and then he slams into you in one swift move. You cry out, head tilting back. “You’re so tight, honey, even after I prepared you, mmhm, fucking perfect,” Ford groans, poor man can’t get enough of your wetness and tightness, as he punctuates each thrust with a hungry moan. His cock hitting so deep you can’t help but cry out, a mix of pleasure and shock. 

“Fordfordfordford—“ you repeat over and over again, mind too dumb to form anything else than just his name, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close to the kiss.

Bill’s laugh cuts through the air like static, he’s everywhere, inside your head, inside your body, like he’s fucking you from the inside out, dragging every ounce of pleasure from your soul without even needing to touch you. “That’s right, doll. Let him fuck you, such a good little toy.”

Ford's face turns serious as he watches you become boneless, when you look at him through these beautiful tears of pleasure, but he doesn’t let you time to adjust, driving into you without mercy.

“Ouch, Fordsy, so rough. What made you that mad?” 

Ford is trying to drown out Bill’s voice, trying to lose himself in you. “Shut up,” he pants, his forehead presses to yours, eyes squeezed shut. “Just shut up.” but you can hear the way his voice trembles, his mind isn’t entirely here either. Bill got him, too.

“You really think you’re the one making her feel good?”

Ford leans down, pressing you into the mattress, his weight crushing into you, hands grabbing at your thighs to spread you open wider, forcing you to take him deeper. He buries himself as far as he can, because he wants, needs, to make sure only he can fuck you like that, only he can reach that deep inside your body till his tip rubs against your cervix. He groans into your neck. “You’re mine— not his. Mine.” 

There’s Bill again. “Does this cunt feel good, Sixer?” 

“Goddammit, Bill—” Ford hisses, but even as he protests, his movements quicken, his cock drilling into you repeatedly, so needy, he’s just as lost in it as you are. His thumb circles your clit to bring his lovely girl more pleasure, but it’s like Bill’s controlling the pace, dragging it out, making it impossible for you to think straight.

Ford grits his teeth, thrusting harder, making the bed shake beneath you. His hands are on your thighs, his cock driving into you with desperate, determined thrusts. “Ignore him, he’s nothing,” he whispers into your ear, but it sounds like he’s telling that to himself more than all. Ford kisses the side of your neck, groaning your name, his hips never stopping, pounding into you in deep, relentless thrusts while you hold onto him, feeling how hot his body is.

But how can you ignore Bill, when he’s slipping into your thoughts like he belongs there, his influence wrapping around your mind like an invisible hand on your throat?

Your legs tremble, body arching under him, Ford moves even deeper, rearranging your insides and you scream. “Ahh—! ahhn, damn— Ford, Ford! sl-slow down”

His cock throbs inside you, kissing your cervix, he hates being that rough, but he can’t help himself, trying to claim you, mark you, keep you away from Bill. 

Ford kisses you, hungrily, so damn messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth and all you can do is cling to him, your body shaking as he pounds into you, his cock pulses, grinding into that spot inside you that makes you claw at his back, nails dragging down his skin as your mind goes hazy from the pleasure.

But Bill’s not backing down. “Fucking pathetic, Sixer. Look at her, she’s still thinking about me while you’re fucking her. Can’t even keep her focused, can you?” that makes Ford’s grip on you only tighten, fingers digging into your skin as he slams into you harder, trying to get you back to reality when he sees your eyes rolling, you’re whining pathetically, your mind nothing but a fog. Ford wishes he can fuck you so deep and good that there’s no room for Bill in your head. And his too.

Ford presses closer as if he could block Bill out just by being inside you. His hands gripping so hard you know there’ll be bruises tomorrow, but right now, you’re too lost in the way Ford’s cock feels deliciously good inside you, filling you just in the way you always wished. “He can’t have you, you’re mine, honey, mine—” Ford stutters. “fucking look at me, sweetheart.” his hand wraps around your throat, not tight, but enough to pin you down, keep you in place as he slams into you, hips snapping forward with punishing thrusts that make tears roll down your cheeks.

But Bill’s presence won’t leave. His voice is like a knife in the back of your mind and Ford feels it too, but before you know it, he’s flipping you over, pulling you onto all fours. He slams into you from behind, his cock stretching you wide, what has you gasping, barely able to hold yourself up. He continues to fuck you into oblivion, thrusting into you so hard, desperate to claim you, to own you in the way only he can and all you do is moan into the sheets, your body trembling beneath him, your body so damn hot you feel you gonna explode. 

Ford grips your waist, pulling you back against him and you hear him moaning, “Fuck. . . haahhn, you feel so g-good, please, baby, pleasee,” Ford doesn’t know what he’s begging for, but he’s grinding into you, hitting that spot again and again, what feels like he’s splitting you apart, but Bill just laughs at that. Sixer, you’re always so needy

“Oh, you should see yourself right now, doll! bent over like a perfect little toy, drooling all over Sixer’s cock, what a show!”

You’re panting like a dog, barely able to breathe with how fast Ford’s fucking you, euphoria overwhelming your brain, the slap of skin against skin loud in the room. 

“C’mon, baby, don’t you wish it was me fucking you? my energy pulsing through that tight little cunt of yours, id fill you up so fucking full, you’d be shaking, just begging for more, i can feel how much you want it. All that innocence in your pretty little head? Gone, fucking ruined.”

Ford hears it too and grabs your shoulders, pulling you up against his chest, one arm wrapping around you like he’s trying to shield you from Bill’s gaze, keeping you close, possessive. Your pleasure building higher with every dirty word Bill throws at you, the way he mocks you and Ford. . . it’s so fucked up, you shouldn't get that damn wet from it.

“She’s all yours, huh? Funny, she’s about to cum and it won’t be because of you, IQ.”

“Fuck, no!” Ford snaps. “You’re mine, he’s not touching you, honey, focus on me, baby, dammit—“ he grunts loudly nearly into your face as he’s trying to make you look at him.

But Bill only gets crueler. “Aww, you hear that? he thinks he owns you, thinks he’s in control. But look at her, Sixer, she’s soaking your cock just from the sound of my voice. You can feel it, her cunt squeezing every time I talk, pathetic, isn’t it? she’s fucking pathetic.”

“Fo-Ford—! ahhnnn, I’m so close!” hearing your voice, Ford slips his hand down to rub your clit, while pressing sweet kisses on your neck, whispering what a good girl you are and begging you to cum on his cock, trying to get your mind onto something else than this demon.

But Bill isn’t done. Not even close.

“Ohhhh, you like that, baby? like when he fucks you hard like that? i bet you’re imagining what it would feel like if I were the one splitting you open instead. God, I’d tear that sweet cunt apart, fill you up so full, you’d be dripping all over the floor. You’d be fucking ruined, doll.”

Ford’s fingers digs into your skin, he’s trying so hard to pretend Bill isn’t here. “That's it, there’s my good girl, i love you s-so, fuck, so much, sweetheart,” he groans into your ear in such needy tone as if it’s the only thing keeping him from losing it completely.

If not Ford holding you, you’d surely fall because your body shaking so hard you can’t control yourself, these absolutely pornographic moans you make because your brain just melts as Ford’s cock keeps slamming into you. Your pussy clenches tight around him, you’re so wet, so fucking soaked, that the sound of him fucking you hard is so obscene, filling the room with the wet slap of his cock driving deep inside you, again and again. 

“Close, baby? Let go. Cum for him. Show him how fucking easy it is to break you.”

As if obeying Bill's words, Ford’s finger moves faster on your clit, cock pounding into you relentlessly.

“Good fucking girl. Cum for me.” now you have no idea who says that, but your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking in Ford’s embrace, your cunt tightens hard around his cock and you cry out, mind spinning and empty, nothing fills it except Ford’s groans and Bill’s degradation. However Ford doesn’t stop moving even now as he pulls you deeper onto his cock and that’s when pleasure becomes painfully too much to handle. “Mine. . .” Ford tries to block out Bill’s voice with his own. 

But Cipher’s words sounds in both your heads. “Look at him, baby, he can’t get enough of you, can’t blame him, I’d fuck you too, but this, this is better, isn’t it?“ Bill is so caring he doesn’t forget about his lovely Sixer. “Is that all you’ve got, Fordsy?”

“Get out of my head, you b-bastard,” Ford growls, but the way his voice sounds, he’s losing it. His thrusts are so sloppy and desperate, as he tries to reclaim control, but Bill’s grip is stronger.

“Not until I’ve had my fun.” Bill whispers.

Ford’s lips hover against your ear. “Tell me. . . hngh, tell me he’s not in your head right now.” but there’s a tremor in his voice, because he knows it’s useless to fight it. Bill’s everywhere, in your thoughts, in your body, pulling every thread and Ford’s just as tangled in it as you are.

Ford tries to fuck image of Bill out of your head, out of your body, but it’s impossible, because now, that’s where he belongs. You feel both of them, in your mind, in your body, you’re both mess of moans and whines, so damn loud, but Bill adores it, it's been so long since he's heard his beloved Sixer whine like a bitch.

Ford’s hands on your your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he drives himself deep inside you from behind, your body arching into the sheets with each powerful thrust, you’re so lost in it, the overwhelming sensation, but then you feel Ford falter for a second. 

He thinks. “Fuck, he’s watching, isn’t he. . . Bill’s— he’s seeing this through me.“ Ford knows Bill like the back of his six-fingered hand, which is why he ends up being right. Cipher’s gaze burning through Ford’s perspective, he’s seeing every fucking inch of you, the way you arch for him. There's not much Ford can do about it, only trying to cover you from the all-seeing eye. But Ford is fucked up, just like Bill. He can’t help himself because the thought of Bill watching only drives him into you deeper. The way you’re taking him, yeah, Bill is getting a front-row seat. This angle, this view, Bill is seeing you like this, watching your ass bounce, watching your pussy swallow Ford’s cock. That’s why Bill got so quiet now?

"He’s— fuckk, he’s probably loving every second of it. You look so beautiful, darling." Ford’s voice breaks into a moan. "but he’s not the one fucking you, he can’t feel this— nghn, can’t feel how tight you are, how wet you are for me, oh god—!”

Pleasure tightening in your belly again, your legs shaking and suddenly you feel like you can’t breathe anymore, can’t focus on anything, your heart beats so hard. You’re close, so fucking close and it’s like Bill knows. “Go on, doll, cum,” his voice a hypnotic command. “let me hear you scream again.”

"F-Ford, I'm—"

“Yes, yes, cum for me, be a good girl and finish on my cock again, please,” Ford’s cock twitching at the feeling of your little hole squeezing him.

The pressure in your core snaps as you cum, muscles clenching hard around Ford's length, you’re shaking and trembling again, the sensation too much, too overwhelming and you’re such a damn mess, all sheets are covered in your juices, saliva and tears. Your vision goes white as you cry out, pulsing around him and Ford's name falls from your lips in broken gasps.

Ford’s thrusts stutter and you feel him start to pull out, he’s about to spill himself on your back, just like always, but then Bill's voice is heard again. “Oh, no, no, no! That’s not how this ends, Sixer.”

You hear Ford’s sharp gasp and then his hips slam forward one last time, burying his cock deep inside you again, Bill’s controlling him. You barely have time to process it before Ford groans, his dick twitching, filling you up with his cum, hot and thick. “Ohhh, fuck—! fuck, I— I didn’t— Shit, Bill, you—“ it’s like his body doesn’t belong him, Ford still moving inside you, much slower as he pumps you full of cum, until some of it starts leaking out.

Bill’s laugh fills the room. “Oh, look at that. Isn’t this just fucking perfect? Look how deep I’ve got him in you, doll. Can you feel it? Feel him throbbing inside you? That’s all me. Bet you love it! You’d let me do it again, wouldn’t you?”

[servicpop]

✶ ﹑ "please don't be mad" ﹏

NOW STARRING : deliquent (almost bf) Adrien x good student m!reader

「ㅤN(?)SFW / SUGGESTIVEㅤ」ㅤreader avoids Adrien n Adrien does not like that

✙ warnings — making out, grinding, knee thing, no actual smut, stops before it escalates, unconsentual kissing, Adrien has yandere/obsessive tendencies, semi-public

notes ,, originally requested for Vallen but I decided that Adrien would fit better since Vallen hasn't really been characterised yet (I have plans dw!) See pt.1 and pt.2 ♡

You were avoiding Adrien for a good reason you swore!

After he baited you underneath the staircase you couldn't help but avoid him. The way he praised you, held you, and left that pesky little bite mark on your neck. You had to hide it especially during gym class, playing it off as your pet biting you and some people played into your bluff luckily! You would never admit to liking such a deliquent like Adrien, you were such a good student, averaging straight As, your behaviour was perfect and you were even the student president. But... your heart fluttered everytime he kissed your ears with his hauntingly soothing voice and everytime he flashed his sharp canines at you in a toothy grin whenever he saw you... Snap out of it! You were mad at him for luring you in like that.

Adrien seemed to have caught on too.

He loved— adored you but he'd do anything to respect you so he did what he thought you wanted, space. He hung out more with his gang, no longer giving silly excuses to go see you and your pretty face. Sure it hurt him and he had to rely on the memory of you two fucking underneath the staircase but he could tough it out right? Wrong. It had been weeks, did you even care about him anymore? Everytime a girl or a guy walked up to you he swore he'd kill them on the spot for breathing the same air as you. You were so buddy-buddy with everyone else but why not him? It was reaching the point where his fingers would twitch, aching for your skin against his, and his eyes would narrow seeing others steal your smile. His smile.

So, as any good boyfriend would do, he decided to corner you.

It only really took one try to lure you in, on the way to your English class every Tuesday you would walk through a more secluded part of the school behind one of the buildings, no one went there because no one really knew about it. There, he caught you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you to the wall, pinning you to it as he panted.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Adrien's voice was firm, scolding, and assertive. He held your shoulder against the wall, his face right up to yours. You didn't want to answer that question so you looked to the side, refusing to speak. You couldn't tell him it was because of your conflicting emotions and how you always felt this weird warm feeling in your stomach when he was around.

"You're such fucking bratty boy you know that?" His growl met your ears as the grip on your shoulders shifted to your wrists as he forced his fingers through yours, holding them as he pressed his lips on yours, shoving his tongue past your lips. His knee made it's way between your legs, grinding on your crotch like it was nothing. It was natural that you moaned and it was natural that Adrien took advantage of that, thrusting his tongue deeper in your mouth in a sloppy kiss.

You caught your breath when he pulled away just for it to be snatched away from you when he went in for seconds. You tried to call out his name but your words were blocked by Adrien's warm tongue. His knee pressed a little harder on your now hard cock, this kiss was really turning you on and he knew that. He knew everything about your body.

"Fuck— Adrien I can't tell you why I've been avoiding you," You growled, voice raspy from the kissing. "Yeah you can, you're just stubborn," Adrien clicked his tongue in a faux disappointment as he finally pulled away, wiping away the string of saliva collecting his lips with yours. His dark eyes met yours, almost as if he was trying to read your thoughts but failing to reach your head, "I don't want you to hate me," He grumbled, trying to get you to speak but you sealed your lips. You couldn't tell him, not now.

He took a moment to admire your flushed features, the way your head was slightly tilted down and how your wrists were binded to the wall by his larger hands. Oh and he couldn't forget the obvious tent in your pants. "Just for that..." He leaned forward, whispering in your ear as his knee rubbed against your bulge, "I won't give it to you."

What.

Adrien fully just pulled away. Would cockblocking be the word to describe this situation? He brushed through his dark hair before turning to you, "Until you can stop being mad at me, I won't fuck you like you want it." And he left, just like that. The sound of the bell snapped you out of your shock, shit. You were late for class. Adrien was so gonna get it after this.

notes ,, I don't think I wrote this well but I'm too tired to fix it T_T Also Adrien and reader are probably not going to actually get together anytime soon sorry! I like the slow burn chase of their dynamic

[heeseungiez]

» XO, Miss Decelis

pairings! rich kids!hyung line x fem!reader, choi yeonjun x fem!reader briefly synopsis! perfection used to be all you strove for, keeping everything that didn't fit the image a secret from the world, but an accident that nearly took your life made you reconsider what kind of person you truly wanted to be... warnings! smut (mdni! 18+), mentions of bullying, joking about past trauma to cope, angst, jealousy etc. (warnings will be added) taglist! closed a/n! never thought i'd be back to writing fanfic on tumblr but here we are... i guess even 6 years later, i'm still the same person i was when i was 15... just btw, the pairings can change as i write more since right now, i have only officially written the first sooo... don't take it for granted

RESOLUTION 1: actually enjoy a party... (Lee Heeseung x Reader)

synopsis! lee heeseung has known you your whole life. he has always kept you at an arm’s length due to his childhood pettiness after being forced to spend time with you as kids. but now that you were back in town, going to school again, he finds his resolve to dislike you at all costs crumbling between his fingers. as if it hadn’t always been chipping away throughout the years.

word count! 5.4k

read here!

RESOLUTION 2: not be a virgin anymore... (Sim Jake x Reader)

synopsis! sim jake has always liked you, but as heeseung’s best friend, he felt weird trying to talk to you. now, with the rules around you loosening, jake refuses to miss his chance to win you over.

word count! 8.4k

read here!

RESOLUTION 3: become popular at school (Park Jay x Reader)

synopsis! park jay always thought of you as the annoying little miss perfect who could do no wrong in the eyes of his, yours and heeseung’s parents. he wasn’t fond of you in the slightest for that very reason. but when you dropped the act after your perfect image had shattered in front of everyone, he can’t help but feel drawn to you. when he discovers another one of your secrets, he thinks he might truly have to ruin you for the whole world to know how far from perfect you truly are.

word count! 12k

read here!

RESOLUTION 4: maybe get a boyfriend? (Park Sunghoon x Reader)

synopsis! park sunghoon always preferred admiring you from afar. because to him, you were untouchable. as the daughter of his career’s biggest sponsor, he was scared that the smallest slight upon your person could make your father withdraw. but you were not the fragile pretty flower sunghoon thought you to be. it was only his luck that you ran right into his arms when you didn’t know what to do about the rest of his friends.

word count! 15k

read here!

Good morning, Decelis! Guess who’s back?

And no, I’m not talking about myself at the moment, but rather, a princess of a successful empire, and our beloved black sheep of the school. It’s quite ironic, isn’t it? In a place where money is power, she has none despite the billions she’s meant to inherit. Poor girl, wouldn’t you say?

But rumours have it that our princess is back from her prolonged summer break abroad, and she’s different than we remember.

It seems that the good girl image has been thrown to the wolves, and the princess is back with a bite of her own.

I’m most definitely looking forward to what this year brings us.

XO, Miss Decelis

[chheolie]

do we have a series with seungcheol being the father of a little girl in elementary school?

you always manage to handle everything, even though it's very tiring. your ex-husband isn't one of those absent fathers; on the contrary, he's always available for your daughter.

but today was particularly awful! you felt exhausted, inadequate. you put your daughter to bed earlier, but of course, she wasn't sleepy. you just couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

hidden under the comforter, your eyes were swollen from crying so much. this past year since the separation hadn't been easy. seungcheol still held a huge space in your heart, and dealing with his absence was a difficult battle.

your daughter, always observant, noticed your mood swings and the sadness that occasionally showed in your eyes. this time was no different; she just accepted lying down even though she didn't want to sleep. while you tried to pull yourself together in your room, she sneaked out of hers and quickly grabbed your phone, dialing her dad's number.

seungcheol was in a meeting with the members after a day of rehearsals when his phone rang. seeing your number on the screen, an immediate concern arose in his heart.

"hello? y/n?" he asked, worried.

"appa..." she said in a small voice, making seungcheol even more concerned.

"hi, my love, what's wrong?" he tried to keep his voice calm.

"appa, i think omma is sick," her little voice sounded on the phone, full of worry. "she's been crying for a long time."

seungcheol's heart tightened at hearing this. "sick? what else did you see? did she say anything?"

"no, she's just in her room, crying. what should i do?"

seungcheol felt a lump in his throat. part of him wanted to run to you, while another part hesitated, fearing to reopen old wounds. but his concern for your well-being spoke louder.

"don't worry okay? i'm coming over."

he hung up the phone, determined to do whatever it took to make you feel better. he said goodbye without giving many explanations to the members and headed to his car.

as he turned off the car, he took a deep breath. he tried to focus his mind on helping you and forgetting the feelings he'd been repressing for the past year.

your ex-husband opened the bedroom door slowly, looking cautiously. seeing you under the comforter, he knocked gently. "y/n...? is everything okay?"

you emerged from under the comforter quickly, startled by the voice you heard. "seungcheol?" you asked, confused, sitting up and drying your tears, but your eyes were sunken and red, making his heart ache at the sight. he approached slowly, sitting beside you, hesitant but unable to stay away.

"what are you doing here?" you asked, still trying to understand.

"our daughter called me, she was worried about you. i... i needed to come." he said calmly, trying not to falter.

"oh... i'm sorry seungcheol. i'm sorry she called you and made you worry. i... i should have been more careful; i didn't want her to worry like this." you said, looking down.

"you don't need to apologize, y/n. our daughter did what she thought was right. she was worried about you, just as i am." he said firmly. "what happened, y/n? what made you cry?" he asked with a tone of sadness.

you looked at seungcheol, the tears starting to fall again. taking a deep breath, you began to speak, your voice trembling with the force of your emotions.

"seungcheol, i... i'm so overwhelmed. everything is so hard without you here. i feel like i'm carrying the world on my shoulders, and sometimes, i just can't do it anymore. i miss you so much."

seungcheol swallowed hard, leaning in a little more, his eyes full of concern and guilt. "i didn't know it was this hard for you, y/n. i... never wanted you to feel like this."

you continued, the words pouring out in a torrent as if a dam had broken. "i've been trying to be strong, for me and for our daughter, but it's so lonely. i look at the place where you used to be, and it's like a part of me is missing. i don't know how to move on without you."

seungcheol held your hand, squeezing it gently. "y/n, i'm so sorry for all this. i'm so sorry for not being here for you. i never stopped caring about you, never stopped thinking about you."

you looked into his eyes, feeling the connection between you still strong. "i miss you so much, seungcheol. i don't know if i can keep going like this. everything feels so empty without you."

he pulled you into a hug, his voice soft and full of regret. "i miss you too, y/n. maybe... maybe we can find a way to make this work. i want to be here for you, in any way you need."

"appa, can you stay with us tonight?" your daughter asked, her eyes shining with expectation, startling you both as you were hugging.

seungcheol looked at her, letting go of the hug, hesitant. "my dear, i... i don't live here anymore. i can't just stay."

disappointment crossed your daughter's face, and she looked at you with a pleading expression. "but, omma, please ask appa to stay. i don't want you to get sick again."

you felt your heart ache at seeing the sadness in her eyes. looking at seungcheol, you saw the same hesitation and concern in his eyes. taking a deep breath, you just nodded to him, and he understood what you wanted to say with your look.

"okay. just for tonight." he said, turning to your daughter.

your daughter let out a little squeal of joy and ran to hug her father again. "thank you, appa! thank you, omma!"

you smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest at seeing them together. even if it was just for one night, having seungcheol there brought an indescribable comfort.

the night passed slowly, with a mix of feelings hanging in the air. while seungcheol read a story to your daughter in the living room, you watched them from the hallway, your eyes still swollen but now with a glimmer of hope. his voice was calm and comforting, each word conveying a sense of security that you so desperately needed.

your daughter was snuggled in her appa's lap, laughing and having fun, momentarily forgetting the whirlwind of emotions she'd felt before. the sound of her laughter was like music to your ears, a reminder that, despite everything, there were moments of happiness and peace.

seungcheol looked up and met your eyes. a gentle and understanding smile lit up his face, and you felt your heart warm. he was there, even if just for one night, and that made all the difference.

when the story ended, your daughter fell asleep in her father's arms, tired but with a peaceful expression.

seungcheol carefully placed your daughter on the couch, covering her with a blanket. he then approached you, who was leaning against the doorframe, watching the scene with a mix of gratitude and longing. without saying a word, he enveloped you in a tight hug, as if his actions could convey all the apologies and regrets that words couldn't.

"i'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice choked. "i'm sorry for everything you went through alone, for not being here when you needed me the most."

you let the tears flow, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. seungcheol's embrace was a safe harbor in the storm that had been the last year. "i'm sorry too, i know it's been hard for you too," you whispered, the words coming out amidst sobs. "i miss you so much, seungcheol."

he held you even tighter, as if he wanted to ensure he'd never let you fall again. "i'm here now, y/n. and i'll do everything to make sure this night isn't the last. i'll do everything to be more present, until i can be here every day."

you pulled away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. "thank you for coming," you said, feeling a comforting warmth spread through your chest. "even if just for tonight, having you here means so much to me."

he smiled gently and wiped the tears from your face. "whenever you need, i'll be here. and i'll do everything so that, in the future, we can be together again, as a family."

[notanactressyayy]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫

— ₊⊹ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 . Natasha Romanoff x reader

— ₊⊹ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 . in which she finally feels heard, seen.

— ₊⊹ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . angst, emotional breakdown (panic attack), swearing, mentions of scars (sh), mentions of suicidal ideologies. Nat being honest and open about her feelings for once. hurt/comfort.

— ₊⊹ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. rainy days, match sad stories. venting.

divider credits: @saradika-graphics ༉‧₊˚.

the heaviness of the afternoon air settled over Natasha — weighting down what was already heavy. her mind, her body.. everything felt like a weight, a weight she carried since she was born, or even before her soul was incarnated in her body. she felt— no, she knew that she was born in bad news, cursed, and there was no way of getting out of this. it's funny, those were the exact same thoughts she had ever since she was a child— 10, 11, maybe? and in that age, crossed her mind that probably when she grew up, those ideas would vanish and she would be free to have a normal life.

but that certainly didn't happen. and now, she found herself trapped. trapped in web that the more she struggled, more stuck she got, and that was a routine that repeated over and over and over — optimistic, optimistic delusional thoughts that came to battle with the bad ones, telling her that things would someday be okay, and the real, coherent ones, that crushed all the hope, the little sparkle of hope she had within her, making her mind a complete and total mess. chaos behind chaos. sleepless nights, restless days.

god, how good would it be if at least, her body wasn't enchanted. how perfect would it be, to throw herself down a building and don't feel anymore, instead of having just a few scratches here and there. the blade helped, even with the acknowledge that a normal person would feel 10 times more than she did. because the pain was still little, when comparing to everything this woman already endured. the red lines on her arms and thighs were just a reminder of the red on her ledge, and that it was now impossible to wipe away.

in moments like those ones, her brain desperately searched for any solution, any thought to refute her current state — it was the human instinct to survive. (yeah, she's human). her eyes squeeze tight, feet stumbling forward and hands gripping tightly the trailer's window rail, knuckles turning white.

inhale, exhale. inhale— no, let's stick to panting.

her mind would drift back to the little girls who she shared her life with in the red room, remembering each of their personalities, what each one of them would do in a situation like this. ironically, for Natasha, they deserved to be listened and helped. but herself? nah. but in the deep end, she didn't know if they were still breathing, still in this world. what was the point..?

"come on..." she mutters, hissing loudly as her legs start trembling, knees ready to give up. "stop, stop, stop, stop..."

her heart never felt so filled with anguish and pain like right now — yes it did, but it was always like that: whenever that happened, the past experiences felt like they never existed — and the now felt like too much to handle. her ears buzzed, the sounds of the wind blowing across the tree leaves around her went down to volume zero — the hair on her legs and arms went up in a deep shiver, and eyes went wide — realization.

the same fucking realization as always. nobody listens, nobody cares. no one will ever know her true story. no one will ever fix her. she won't be remembered. her life's a waste— why was she even born, when everything that happened was disgrace after disgrace. that's when the thread snaps, and her body reacts before her mind can follow.

her throat closes, as if suffocating — body falling backwards, hitting the floor with full force. her fingers run through her hair and tug on the strands, pulling them strongly, even breaking a few of the auburn locks. tears of desperation threatens to fall down her cheeks, but she doesn't really realize that yet. she's just so out of air, that's impossible to control any other action.

"why won't that fucking—" Natasha manages between gasps. she groans, grabbing on the skin of her thighs and squeezing them harshly, creating moon-shaped little marks, enough to draw blood. "won't it— stop!"

then, she sobs. wait, but.. why did it felt like.. relief? perhaps because now, she was in your arms.

a foreign, strange sensation of warmth, warmth of another human being, enveloped her. she didn't recognize who it was, nor did she care. with pure instinct, her arms wrapped around the person's midsection, clinging for dear life. and now, with the sense of security, she was able to cry freely. she cried silently, something you didn't like. her chest heaved with emotion, but you wished she was louder. she was taught that widows didn't feel pain, wether it was physical or emotional. that's why her small cries sounded as painful and miserable as loud ones. you, sitting on the floor with her, scooped her weeping frame into your arms and held her — her side against your chest, head tucked in the crook of your neck.

sadly, it wasn't the first time, and you knew it wouldn't be the last. you were always in the trailer with her when she had breakdowns like this one. and that was what broke you the most — her brain subconsciously would tell her she was alone, and she didn't know how to deal with intense feelings like those: thus, she didn't know how to ask for help, how to come to you so you both could prevent those mental draining episodes.

when you first met Natasha, the first thing she asked you was to forget that she was a deadly spy, an avenger, or whatever the hell else people knew her as. at least for a day, so you could see where things would go. this fact only, meant that since the beginning, she had a feeling about you.. one she couldn't quite put a finger on, but which made her want to be herself, with no masks or titles around you.

it was common sense everything she went through. but only you knew about her true point of view. when her own self felt like an outside observer regarding to her own life, you were always there to remind her of who she was.

"you're safe... you're safe, i am safe.. we're both safe.." you whisper, running your hand up and down her shivery arm, putting the cold away. "okay, Nat? you are safe. i am right here, ready to fight whatever evil that befalls you.''

"i don't know.. i-i just.. i'm exhausted... i'm s-so tired.." she manages between small cries, eyes pleadingly looking up into yours. her hand reaches out and intertwine her fingers with your own, grasping on every sense she had of your presence — because she knew it could fade again, that she could fall in the loop again. and it was torturous. "i never.. no one ever listened to me... i never.. told anyone.. about.. a-about..."

"i know." you nod, arms tightening around her. you crawl a little backwards, just so you could reach the blanket that laid upon the couch and grab it. you wrap it around her with one hand, not letting go of her own. she subconsciously brings the fluffy fabric closer to herself and snuggles up against your body. "but you can tell me. isn't it clear, malyshka? that you're stuck with me?"

malyshka. the endearment term in russian she had taught you. she loved it, so goddamn much. a little weak smile tugs on her lips, the kindness you were showing her easing the tension — as if you were offering to carry the weight with her. compassion, empathy. so foreign.

"i just.." she shakes her head, sniffling and taking a deep, shaky breath. she stays silent for a few minutes, and you wait. voice so quiet, small.. and scared. "before you.. no one ever.. held me. i never had anyone holding me. i never had a touch that didn't mean harm. never had anyone to listen."

"i know, Nat. and that pains me more than you think." you confirm, running your fingers through her hair, and nuzzling the side of your face against her cheek, resting on your shoulder. "but trust me, i will listen for hours, days, years and centuries. if you wanna share every single second of your life with me, i'm here to listen."

"that doesn't make any freaking sense to me." she chuckles humorlessly, a soft groan escaping her throat. she was feeling a little tired. "but.. the truth is.. few people understand what i went through. the little people who lived in the same circumstances as me are probably all dead.. and... i truly don't want you to understand. i don't want you to try and live the same horrors as i did. all i wish for..."

you take a moment to stare at her when she pauses. hurt arms, tear filled face. oh, what you wouldn't do to protect this heart. to keep it safe. never let anything harm it again.

"all i wish for, is for you to be here. to hold me like you're doing, to share your own experiences with me, to live with me. to whisper sweet nothings in my ear by the night. handle my body gently. just be here. be here and i know i'll be forever safe."

that was it. everything you ever wished for. you exhale deeply and shift her carefully, so she was on your lap. she looks down at you, and at your hand.. that slowly comes up to land on her cheek. she leans against it and breathes heavily. you smile, waiting for her next expected words.

"can i..." she clears her throat, hands shyly gripping your shoulders, eyes looking at you from below her eyelashes. "can i cry more?"

"of course." you cradle her again and settle her thighs around your hips. her arms wrap around your neck, and she gently leans her head on your shoulder... allowing herself to cry.. out of relief.

your right hand tenderly caresses her leg, tracing over the self indulged scars she had. the left one, makes slow, soothing circles on her spine, moving up, and down her back. she was letting all her emotions out, all the pain inside her heavy heart, was flowing out of her being. thanks to your patience, your gentleness, and your love.

turns out, love wasn't only for children. goodness gracious, how good it was to be loved...

"god," she sobs, squeezing you tighter, nose brushing against your hair as she allows herself to.. let go. "god, i need you."

"i'm here." you confirm quietly, looking up and kissing her temple. "i'm here, i'm not going anywhere."

[envy-of-the-apple]

Moon Starves Sun

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

Part three: Moon Starves Sun(Full part)

Synopsis: The aftermath of 'Sun Eats Moon' in Satoru's perspective.

(Warnings: implied sex, forced relationships)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

***full version of pt 3 is on a03 and account restricted. in the process of censoring the fic so it can be posted on tumblr**

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Hello!! I was reading some of your Yandere Dick and Starfire and I was wondering if you could do something where mc was a brainwashed black widow assassin from Marvel? Essentially black widows are little girls who were human trafficked and brutally trained to be assassins by a man named Dracov? Like they know what they’re doing and are fully conscious but don’t have a choice because of the brainwashing?

Extra points if Yandere Dick and Starfire never knew about the training and abuse until it was revealed

Yandere Nightwing x reader x yandere Starfire

The Tower was quiet, save for the faint hum of the training room’s lights. Nightwing and Starfire had just finished a light sparring session when they found you. At first, you had been distant, stiff, and cold, never truly letting them in. There was something about the way you moved, the way your eyes flickered over everything in the room as if scanning for threats, that unsettled them. Yet, they pushed it aside, chalking it up to your mysterious past.

They didn’t know about the black-and-red tattoos on your inner wrist, symbols etched into your skin like a constant reminder of your past life as a trained weapon. They didn’t know that every time they held you, their touch made you flinch, a deep-rooted fear ingrained in your muscle memory from years of abuse. They didn’t know that, deep down, you never truly felt free, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself.

It wasn’t until one evening when you tried to slip away in the middle of the night that everything unraveled. Your attempt was subtle, a trained movement learned over years of escape. But Nightwing had been watching you, his gaze trained on your every move since he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He followed you, and Starfire had done the same when she realized something was off.

The sound of your soft gasps echoed in the hall as you tried to push through the door. "Where do you think you're going?" Dick's voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. Your breath caught in your throat, body going rigid as the instinct to flee screamed through you.

"I... I don't want to hurt anyone," you whispered, voice hoarse, raw with emotion you couldn't fully express. You weren’t sure if you were even allowed to feel this way, but it didn’t stop the panic from surging. "I can’t—"

Starfire appeared behind him, her green eyes wide with concern. "What is it you do not want to do, dear one? You are not alone here. You are safe."

You froze. Your heart was pounding in your chest as old programming kicked in. A mission. A target. Your fingers twitched, aching to grab your weapons that you didn’t carry anymore, but the fear of failure paralyzed you. "I’m not safe," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "I was never safe."

It was then that they saw it—the crack in the armor that had kept you distant from them. The fear, the betrayal, the vulnerability hidden so carefully under layers of emotional control. Dick's breath hitched as he moved closer, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made you want to turn away.

"Who hurt you?" Dick asked softly, voice trembling with barely contained fury. His hands hovered near you but didn't touch—he had learned that much. You flinched, and it didn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

The truth came out in pieces, in fragmented thoughts that didn’t quite make sense. You told them about Dracov. About how you and the other girls like you were torn from your families, forced into training to become tools of violence. You spoke of the endless nights of abuse, of never being allowed to have a real childhood. The truth was so ugly, so horrifying, that neither Dick nor Starfire could comprehend it all at once.

Starfire knelt before you, her eyes full of empathy and something darker—something protective. "We will help you," she said gently, her voice unwavering as she reached for your hand, "no one will hurt you again."

Dick’s eyes, though, were darker with rage, but not at you. "We’ll make sure you’re never alone again," he promised, his voice low, dangerous, and full of a possessive warmth you had never known. "Not anymore."

But as they moved to comfort you, as their hands brushed yours, something shifted in you. You didn’t want to be touched. You didn’t want to be loved. It wasn’t that you didn’t crave it, but you had been taught to push it away, to keep people at a distance. The only choice you had ever known was to obey, to fight, to survive. To let yourself fall into their arms would mean relinquishing control, something you weren’t sure you could ever do.

Starfire and Dick noticed the hesitation, the way you held back, even when they spoke softly of a future where you could be free. They had never known the extent of your brainwashing, and now that they did, it only fed the fire of their obsession.

They were going to "help" you, but their version of help would never be what you needed.

As Nightwing pulled you into his arms, the same instinct that had saved you so many times before kicked in. You didn’t fight it, not fully, but the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. You were trapped—your body, your mind, your heart—all of it had already been claimed, and now they were here, claiming you, too.

You didn’t know how to stop it. You didn’t know how to say no when you were all too aware of the unspoken promise in their eyes: they would never let you go.

(A/n: I have no idea of who character u r talking about yet😔 so correct me if I'm wrong because I just researched black widow for like a glance hehe)

[moonsaver]

Lemon is the sweetest fruit.

Yandere!gojo x reader.

Your childhood best friend likes you a little more than he lets on. He professes by a kiss.

TW/CW; sub/noncon[just kissing], slight angst(?), yandere tendencies mentioned. Reader is mentioned as "pretty girl".

A/n; a short drabble i wrote. Its barely 300 words i think.

–

Satoru was your best friend

Note: "was".

Being your best friend was the best thing that happened to him in its own right, of course. Giggly whispers shared during classes, holding hands as you both ran up to higher land to see the fireworks, promising to stay in contact even after you both long graduated, nightly phone calls with occasional features from his other friends; Shoko and Suguru.

It had, however, started dawning on him how much more he craved you a long time ago. When you carelessly handed him a lollipop you were just eating, how his heart fluttered when it was in his mouth, tongue hesitant as it felt the lingering warmth of your own on the hard candy. He'd remained ignorant of it – he needed to. You were his best friend. Being friends is better than potentially ruining it.

And he didn't want to.

Not with his childhood best friend. You knew him like the palm of your hand; but as strange as it sounds, love had rendered him both knowing everything and nothing about you simultaneously. Romantic love, so to speak.

He ignores it. He bottles it up. Eyes that linger on your form a bit too long forced to rip away. Hands that twitch to hold yours forced to slump on your shoulder in a friendly manner. Ignorance when your familiar laughter ignites a plethora of sparks in his stomach.

And the feelings fester. They fester and rot and turn into something uglier. But Satoru can't slip up – hell no. The whole world can collapse out of balance and he wouldn't mess this up. Not you. Anything but you.

It's almost agonizing. He measures it inch by inch in silence, sitting at your dining table, looking at you working in the kitchen under the yellow lighting. He finds those feelings twist inside him like a needle caught in taut fabric.

"Hungry?"

For you, yes. But his tongue is trained not to say that.

"Nah, got anything sweet?"

He leans in his chair, feet rising up as he pushes it back, balancing it on its hind legs, looking up at the ceiling with his scaling retinas.

"Humm.."

You hum, the sound of rustling accompanying you as you scavenge through your stock.

"Hard lemon candy."

"Works f'me."

"Really?"

You toss the small, plastic bag of the candy towards him, his hand reaching out to catch it. And he does. He whistles slightly as he reads it, the chair slightly creaking as he leans forward, pushing it back onto all 4 of its legs. One of his arms is still slumped over the chair, the other holding up the packet in front of his face as he scrutinized it.

"You'll burn a hole through it, pretty boy."

"You'll deal with it, pretty girl."

You roll your eyes, sitting down across him, and yawning, stretching out in your chair before slumping, almost mirroring his own sloth-like posture.

"Rough day huh?"

"Yeah, everyone's out for a drink, too."

"Troubles and bottles. That's how everyone deals with it."

His fingers snap open the packet, and coaxes a small piece out of it and into his mouth. It clacks slightly against his teeth, immediately sweetening his saliva once engulfed by it. His eyes snap to your lips.

"Not you though."

Your lips are wet, and your teeth shine slightly when you smile.

He wants to kiss you.

"Not us."

The rest is silence.

––

Satoru was your best friend.

But you don't call him that. Not anymore.

"Satoru–"

"Shh."

His finger presses against your lips, hushing you. His eyes are terrifying – you've never realised. You always saw them shining brilliantly like a clear lake under the sun. But right now; they're nothing like you've seen before. Huge, ice cold irises that almost engulf yours as they bore into you.

His hand is cold, as it slips down under your chin, his palm cradling it, his thumb pressing against the end of your jaw, where it ends.

"Your skin is so pretty."

He whispers it, mesmerised. It's one of the few rare times he's sincere when he says so. The last time he did; it was in an aquarium after he'd horribly crushed his exams in the midst of a family fued.

You remember he was your best friend. But you remind yourself he might not be anymore.

"I've always wanted to know what your lips taste like."

He says, his eyes lowered onto your lips, unshamedly. If it's any consolation; his white lashes almost curtain the hungry look in his eyes. He leans in, almost hovering closer as you swallow thickly, instinctively squeezing your eyes shut. This causes him to chuckle breathlessly for a moment.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart."

The drawl in his voice is almost sickening; it sends an upward shudder in your body. He's never addressed you in such a manner before.

"Open~"

He says, slightly elongating it at the end in a sing-song manner, fingers squeezing into your cheek in warning.

Your eyes creak open the slightest bit.

There is the sun.

His pupils are dilated. Much more closer to you before he closed his eyes.

"There you go. What a pretty girl."

He sighs, cocking his head to the side, his eyes slowly scanning over your features, taking you in.

"Don't. Please."

You manage to whisper.

He blinks. Has he blinked before?

"Why not?"

He asks, in a whisper.

You swallow, again. You breathe in to answer, but he cuts you off;

"This won't hurt. I promise."

His words are so soft. So loving. You almost want to let him. His eyes are so gentle in that moment you almost forget.

Until his lips are on yours.

They're cold, yet somehow soft. Slightly chapped. He kisses you, gently. You breathe in, sharply, as you register the contact. You flinch, however – when his hot tongue prods at your lips.

You take the time to contemplate; and Satoru gives it to you. His hand has slid from your chin,and around to rest on your nape. His other hand desperately grips onto your shirt, right in the hollow curve of your waist. Can you really stand your ground?

And you let him in.

His tongue is eager when it enters your mouth, a soft, breathless moan leaving him as his tongue feels the warmth of your mouth, parting slightly at the sudden burst of feelings at the contact, before crushing down onto you again. His lips are sealed against yours, as his tongue takes it's time to feel every ridge of your teeth, sliding against your tongue and diving into the pools of saliva in the crevices of your mouth.

There's a string of saliva still connecting your lips, when he finally parts. Both of you pant slightly, out of breath as he grins like an idiot in love.

"You taste as good as I imagined."

His face ducks into the junction of your shoulder and neck, his white tufts of hair tickling your face a bit as he does so. He inhales, deeply.

A kiss. And then another.

He trails wet, small kisses from the base of your neck to your jaw. His hands move to cup your face firmly, as he plants a kiss onto your nose, playfully rubbing his nose with yours, as he smiles.

"I love you. You do too, right?"

You can taste the lemon candy from his mouth. This won't be the last time you taste it.

---

[arilevenatz]

You are

Pairing: pirate!jongho x town girl!reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 9.6k

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, abuse (not done by the boys) minor character death, jongho is a shy baby, lmk if I missed any!!

AN: I feel like screaming. This has been in my drafts for more than a year when the 'Everything' MV came out. The MV broke me and I was a crying mess. If y'all couldn't tell, my bias is jongho and I have seen that there are not that many good jongho fics in any platform. So I have taken the initiative. (Even tho idk if it's good or not) Anyway if y'all wanna be tagged just reply with your @ . AND please reblog and like it helps me a lot. I kinda fucked up the ending so y'all are free to imagine whatever the fuck y'all want

Nassau, an island which was claimed by the crew of Halazia. The ship was giant and very beautiful as well.

One slight issue,

It's a pirate ship

The pirates of the Halazia are the most feared of them all. They are known for not having any mercy towards any ship they come across.

Yes, even the ones with a white flag.

But Nassau is an island which is owned by them, so it is common for the people living near the harbor to see them come and go.

I, however lived further in the town, so I have never really seen them. Not that I want to as well. I'm scared they might kill me.

Though I doubt that will happen cause they have never really killed any innocent here in Nassau. Not that I've heard that is.

Waking was hard. Going to greet the family was harder. Answering their dumb questions was the hardest.

They say the youngest kid is always the most loved of them all. Not in our case.

We are big on family. And the worst part? We all live in the same plot, but in different houses. Me, being the youngest child in the house, I'm a personal punching bag.

Stuffs like "your brothers are doing so good, you need to follow them aswell" and "your brothers and sister have taken majors in science, you will too I hope" were normal to me.

Ever since I was young, my mom taught me.

If you wanna live in this house without getting called out every time, you have to fake a smile. Please everyone, child. Because of your father, you have to please everyone.

That was then, but now she has changed. She was forced to do so by these monsters in the name of people. I kinda miss her…

I heard my name being called. Looking at the source I saw my mom.

"I know you just woke up but, can you go to the port market and get us some things?"

"Mom, I just woke up..."

"Listen to your mom kid"

I looked at the source, great, my other aunt. Blinded by the pride of marrying a rich doctor, she thinks she is the head of the family, although she is the youngest sibling of my dad.

"yes yes, she will go, won't you kid?" her eyes pleaded to me, not wanting her child to be scolded in the morning.

"yes ma"

I took the money and left.

Being the youngest, I was always called "kid" or "child". It's weird I know, but i don't even care anymore.

The market's a bit far. I have to cross a little outskirt of a jungle. Though I don't have to cross the jungle, it's still a bit scary. But it's dawn, so it's alright right now.

After the jungle, a little walk by some alleyways and then it's the market!

The market was one of my favorite places to be in. Just look at it! It's so lively and colourful. It's so nice that it can make me forget about home for some time.

Ok let's check the list of items. Chili powder, parsley, biscuits and rum.

Hah! That stupid uncle of mine! How can he make a young girl like me buy alcohol early in the morning?!

I eventually got all the supplies and also got the rum. The shopkeeper was my dad's and uncles's friend so he gave me the rum I wanted, but I doubt he would've if he didn't know me. I mean come on, who gives alcohol to a young girl?!

"That will be ten bronze kid"

I handed him the money when suddenly I heard a high pitched laugh

"jongho, at least try to bargain once in your life! Do you or do you not want to save money??"

Looking in the direction, I saw two men. One has black hair, the other one has black and white hair.

What a strange hair colour...aren't his parents dissapointed?

Both of them are dressed in big tunics and black leather pants. The tunics loosely tucked in their pants.

"shopkeeper-nim, can we get this rum?"

The oreo guy handed the shopkeeper a note, seemingly a list.

"No mates, the last one was taken by this lady here"

He pointed at me. Damn dawg why you gotta throw me under the bus?

It was now when the two men looked at me.

"Aren't you too young to drink?"

"Land Ahoy!!!!"

The booming voice of the first mate who is also the quarter master, can be heard from below the deck. He had just spotted an island. Their island,

Nassau.

Beautiful island, with beautiful people and beautiful owners.

hehe

"Mingi, drop the anchor!"

"done!"

"captain, we need to scavenge", the quartermaster and first mate of Halazia, Seonghwa stated to their captain, the one and only, Hongjoong.

"I'm aware. Is the scavenger team ready?"

"I have already concerned Wooyoung, him and his team are ready to go"

"Good"

"Captain!"

The captain and quartermaster flinched by the voice of the surgeon.

"San! You unruly swine! What if the the captain got scared and let go of the helm?!", the quartermaster scolded the younger guy.

"Seonghwa do you mean that I get scared by small things?"

The two of the other males in the room nodded.

"all of you are scared cats"

"Bitch-"

All three males in the room flinch by the sudden intruder.

"Yunho, do you want me to order Yeosang to cut of your hair in your sleep?"

"Captain it was a joke!!"

"Anyways, captain, I came here to inform you that Mingi needs materials to fix the ship, however, he has work to do, so someone has to go on land with Wooyoung to get the supplies", San, the surgeon states.

The captain has now successfully ported the ship and now can let go of the helm. He turned to his crew and told them to follow him. And he went towards the maindeck.

"Send Jongho. He does not have any work for the time being"

"ok!"

San sprinted away almost in a comical way while muttering something which sounded suspiciously like a "smooth operator~"

The battlemaster was in the arms locker. The giant locker was home to weapons for the battlemaster as well as guns for the master gunner, Yunho.

The battlemaster, Jongho, was busy cleaning his swords. Call him a clean freak but he needs to clean all his swords and cutlasses. Not because he is a clean freak, it's cuz a certain someone will scold him if he does not.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?"

"San are you a child?"

The first mate gets inside the locker and sits beside the younger male.

"I am not, but I know a certain someone is though"

"You swine"

The crew of the Halazia is known as the scariest crew outside, but inside the ship, they all are one braincell sharing idiots.

"Anyways, captain ordered you to do to port and get some stuff with wooyoung-ie" The younger boy looked at the first mate with his boba eyes. "what stuff?"

"mingi needs some stuff to repair the broken and probably for his new invention and shit"

"Ok then”

“meat, coriander, honey, alcohol and maybe some broccoli for the soups"

"Wooyoung, why do you need alcohol? Are you gonna drink again?"

The cook of Halazia, wooyoung and the young battlemaster, jongho are set out for an adventure, an adventure to find the specific kind of alcohol for the surgeon of the ship, San.

"What? No! I am getting it because Sanie asked me to!

This morning, San had barged in the kitchen and asked wooyoung to get a special kind of rum, which helps to clean cuts.

Yeah the young boys have no idea how to find it…

"aren't you too young to drink?" jongho asked the girl they just came across in the shop.

The girl didn't say anything and just stayed silent.

"jongho-ya you scared the poor girl"

"No I did no-"

"you can have it"

Both the males looked at the young girl. She has her hand out and in her hand resides the rum bottle.

"You can have it"

"No no we ca-" jongho was cut of by wooyoung. "sure we'll take it! How much was it again?"

"ten bronze"

Wooyoung handed the girl ten bronze and was about to take off, but jongho held him back feeling guilty. I mean come on, the girl probably had her own hardships buying it, and then she got harassed by his hyung.

The younger guy went and handed 5 more bronze. The girl merely looked at his hand confused.

"sorry, he is just immature"

The girl however still remained silent and immobile.

Jongho waited a few seconds and then took the girl's hand and placed the coins there.

"thank you and...Sorry"

The girl looked at the coins and then looked at him. And then she said "I don't need these extra coins, but in return, you both have to go and buy the alcohol for me”

They do it for the girl. The two men are now inside another store, away from the previous. This store is the only other store which sells alcohol here in the port market. But the owner of this shop doesn't know your dad or uncle, so he will not give alcohol to her as she's a girl. So she cleverly asked the two men to go inside and buy it for her.

Wooyoung hands you the additional bottle of rum with a dramatic flourish, a smirk on his face. "Here you go, little one. Consider this our way of helping you out." He smiles at me, while Jongho looks on, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

You look at him giving you two bottles when you asked for one. “I only needed one tho.....”

"We added one more. Consider it a gift from us. Just... don't tell anyone we did this, alright? We'd be in real trouble if anyone knew” Wooyoung said as he put the bottles in your bag properly. You nod at him slightly.

Wooyoung smiles slightly at your nod "Smart girl. And hey... what's your name? I'm wooyoung, that's jongho. Seems like Nassau's been tough on you, hasn't it? If you ever need anything else-"

jongho slightly nudges him to stop and get back to work. He gently pushes Wooyoung aside before he can offer any more unsolicited kindness to the girl. The last thing they need right now is rumors spreading about us befriending locals.

Jongho shoots Wooyoung a warning look before turning his attention back to you "Remember what we said - keep quiet about this. And stay out of trouble, yeah? Nassau's not safe for little ones like you-" he catches himself realizing how condescending that sounded "-Like-”

“Little ones?” You were offended. You hated when someone called you little. It triggered you so much. You family calling you ‘kid’, ‘child’ was enough, you don't need these two weirdos calling you little.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly "You know what I mean. Young. Innocent. Uninvolved in pirate life. Just... be careful, alright? We don't want anything happening to anyone”

You wanted to ask why they were so interested in pirate life but they were already turning back.

As Wooyoung and him walk away, jongho can't shake the feeling that he has made things awkward between them and the girl. He glances back over his shoulder, noticing her standing there, holding the extra bottle of rum like a precious treasure. "Woo, did you see that?”

Wooyoung follows his gaze, a thoughtful expression on his face "Aye, I did. She's a tough one, ain't she? For a little thing, she's got guts." He pauses, then adds in a lower tone

"And she's got a way of getting under your skin, too. Mark my words, Jongho - that girl's going to cause us trouble one day." He chuckles to himself, but there's a hint of seriousness beneath his words.

"Let's just hope it's the good kind of trouble.”

Back in the ship, the surgeon, San runs up to them, asking them what took them so long. Woo replied "we had to fight a little girl for the last bottle of rum”. San raises a concerned eyebrow.

“In what world do ‘little girl' and ‘rum’ co-operate in one sentence? That sounds highly inappropriate”

Jongho sighs and shakes his head disapprovingly at Wooyoung's exaggeration. "Don't go spreading tales now. We weren't fighting anyone." He glances at San with weary eyes. "Just... ran into a stubborn lady on an errand.”

San raises an eyebrow skeptically, but his lips twitch in amusement. "'Stubborn lady,' huh? Sounds like someone's been distracted by pretty eyes and a cute face." He teasingly pokes Jongho in the ribs.

Wooyoung covered his mouth with his hands dramatically and replied "no wonder he was not cold but gentle towards the girl. I knew you had it in you!”

Jongho rolls his eyes, trying to maintain his composure despite San's teasing. "Shut it, San. It's not like that. We just didn't want any trouble, that's all." He shoots Wooyoung a warning look, silently telling him to keep his mouth shut.

But it was true, he felt that those eyes held sadness. He has seen war, he has been in dilemmas and has fought with his inner urges. He knows what loneliness looks like. and he saw that in those girl's dull eyes. He stands on the deck watching the sunset paint the sky in fiery hues, but he can't help but replay the encounter with the girl in his mind. The ache in her eyes, the defiance in her stance - it echoes the battles he's fought within himself.

He remembers the way the girl stood her ground, refusing to back down even when faced with two grown pirates.

As the captain, Hongjoong managed more than just his crew; he also oversaw a network of loan sharks. These were the people he trusted with his money, providing them the means to distribute loans in exchange for a share of the profits. Now, it was time to settle. A meeting with the loan sharks of Nassau was pending, and Hongjoong intended to reclaim what was rightfully his.

Rather than meeting on neutral ground, Hongjoong and Seonghwa decided to summon the loan sharks to their ship. It was a calculated move, one that ensured the meeting would take place on their terms and under their control. (Hot men)

The captain’s quarters were cold and dark, the flickering lantern casting shadows across Hongjoong’s features. Seonghwa stood by the door, arms crossed and expression hard, his presence as commanding as the captain’s. The loan sharks shifted uneasily before them, knowing this was not a meeting to be taken lightly.

The lead shark hesitated before speaking, his voice shaking slightly. “Captain, there’s been… a complication.”

Hongjoong leaned forward, his eyes cold “A complication?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “Explain.”

“A man we loaned money to—he fled,” the shark stammered. “Disappeared without paying a single coin. He left behind his wife and daughter in Nassau.”

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into a fist on the table. “And you let him run?”

“We didn’t know he would,” the shark blurted out, his words tumbling over each other. “He seemed reliable, Captain. A merchant with steady work. But one day, he was gone, just like that.”

“And the family?” Seonghwa cut in, his tone sharp and unforgiving.

“They’re still in Nassau,” the shark admitted. “The wife claims she doesn’t know where he went, and they’ve got nothing left. No way to repay the debt.”

Hongjoong’s gaze darkened. “You mean to tell me you came here with excuses, no money, and no solutions?”

The shark shrank back, sweat glistening on his forehead. “Captain, we—we thought we could pressure the wife. Maybe—” He hesitated, but Hongjoong’s glare pushed him to continue. “Maybe take their belongings or… use them to draw him out.”

The room fell silent. Seonghwa stepped forward, his voice like steel. “Use them?” he echoed, his lips curling into a cold smirk knowing what his captain will suggest next, “You’re suggesting we drag a woman and her child into this mess because you couldn’t do your job?”

The shark flinched, his voice barely a whisper. “It was just an idea.”

Hongjoong stood, the sudden movement making the shark jump. He leaned across the table, his voice venomous. “Ideas like that will get you killed. You don’t lay a hand on them unless I give the order. Do you understand me?”

The shark nodded frantically, his face pale. “Y-Yes, Captain.”

“But you will go back,” Hongjoong continued, his tone playful but colder now. “You will visit the wife, and you will remind her that the debt doesn’t disappear just because her husband ran. Make sure she understands this is her last chance to cooperate. If she knows where he is, she had better start talking.”

“And if she doesn’t?” the shark asked hesitantly.

Seonghwa’s smirk widened, but his eyes remained icy. “Then you make it clear what happens when people cross Captain Hongjoong. Let her know the weight of the debt will fall heavier if her husband doesn’t show his face soon.”

Hongjoong straightened, his eyes burning into the shark’s. “You don’t come back empty-handed again. Bring me the man, or bring me something of equal value. Do I make myself clear?”

The sharks nodded in unison, fear etched into their faces.

“Good,” Hongjoong said curtly. “Now get out of my sight.”

As the door slammed shut behind them, Seonghwa glanced at the captain. “You think the wife knows something?"

“If she does, fear will make her speak,” Hongjoong replied coldly. “And if she doesn’t, it’ll push the coward into the open. Either way, we get what we’re owed.”

He thinks for a second and then says “ you know what, I don't trust these parasites. Send a mule after them, give me every detail of what they do from now on”

The shark’s anger simmered as he stormed through the winding streets of Nassau. Hongjoong’s threats still echoed in his ears, and his humiliation burned deep. To him, the blame lay squarely with the woman and her child.

“They’ve made fools of us,” growled the shark, his fists clenched. “It’s her fault the captain’s breathing down our necks. If we can’t touch them, we’ll make sure she understands what it means to cross us.”

When he reached the small house with two of his acquaintances, they found it quiet and dimly lit. The lead shark pounded on the door with enough force to make the frame rattle. After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing the wife. Her face paled when she saw the sharks, but she held her ground.

“What do you want now?” she asked, her voice strong but trembling.

The lead shark sneered, pushing the door open wider. “Your lies have caused us enough trouble. We’re done playing games.”

She took a step back, clutching the edge of the door. “I’ve told you everything I know. My husband is gone. I can’t give you what I don’t have.”

Another shark, a burly man with a cruel glint in his eye, stepped forward. “Your daughter—where is she?”

“She’s not here,” the wife said quickly, fear flashing across her face. “She’s out.”

The lead shark smirked, leaning closer. “Good. That makes this easier.”

Before the wife could react, the sharks forced their way inside. She stumbled back, panic flooding her as they loomed over her.

“You’re coming with us,” the lead shark said coldly.

“You can’t do this,” she stammered, her voice breaking. “We’re not hurting you,” the burly shark replied with a twisted grin. “We’re just taking you somewhere else to have a little… conversation.”

Despite her protests, they grabbed her arms and dragged her out of the house, their grip firm but not brutal. She screamed and struggled, but no one was there as they hauled her through the streets and into the shadows of Nassau.

____

You push open the door to your house, expecting the usual comfort of your mother's voice or the warmth of a home filled with the scent of a meal being prepared. But instead, there was silence.

“Mom?” you call out, your voice echoing slightly. You set down the basket of bread and vegetables, but there’s no answer. The quiet stretches on, oppressive, like something’s wrong.

You move through the house, checking the rooms one by one, but it’s empty. There’s no sign of her. Panic starts to creep into your chest, tightening with each passing moment.

As you were looking, you felt someone cover your mouth in a vise-like grip as you trie to claw at him. His thick mustache curls upwards in a cruel sneer. "And what do we have here? The little birdie come back to her nest?”

You try hard to free yourself.

“You think you can run from us?” he sneered, shoving you forward with enough force to stumble you. “You and your mother have been causing enough trouble, little girl. But don’t worry, we’ll make sure you both learn your place soon enough.”

You kick his knees and manage to break free. Just as you reach for the door handle, a large hand cracks across your face, sending you stumbling down. Pain explodes across your cheek and you fall to the floor, dazed and crying. The man looms over you, his fist raised for another blow. "You little brat!”

"Stop!" The lead shark's voice barks out sharply, staying in the second man's hand mid-air. Through your terrified tears, you see him approaching you, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor.

“We don’t need more bruises on this pretty little face yet,” he says, his voice almost… amused. His hand lifts, but instead of striking, he just touches the side of your face, his fingers cold and rough against your skin.

You wince, instinctively trying to pull away, but his grip tightens, holding you in place. “Listen closely, little bird,” he continues, his voice dark and low. “We need you to understand something. Your father’s debt? It’s a problem. And we’re not leaving here until we get our money back.”

Your stomach churns at the mention of your father. You try to keep your voice steady, but it cracks. “I don’t know where he is.”

“Yeah, we know,” he replies with a dry laugh, his grip loosening just a little. “Your father’s a coward. He runs and leaves you two behind to clean up his mess.” He leans down, his face just inches from yours. “But that doesn’t matter. Captain Hongjoong’s been clear. We take what’s ours. And you?” His smirk widens. “You’re gonna help us make that happen.”

His words make your blood run cold. Hongjoong. You’d heard of him—his name was spoken with fear and respect, but never this way. They’re using your family as leverage, a pawn in their game, all because of your father’s debt.

“They need you to make sure your father gets the message,” the lead shark continues, standing back up, pacing slowly around you like a predator. “We can’t hurt you… yet. But we’re going to make sure you’re a reminder. Captain Hongjoong is waiting for results. And if that means bringing you along to make your father see reason, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Hongjoong sat in his quarters, staring at the report he had just received from the mule. His eyes narrowed as the words settled in. The sharks had gone against his direct orders, overstepping their boundaries, and now he had to deal with the consequences. The anger bubbled inside him, a sharp, cold rage that left no room for hesitation.

He stood up, the weight of his frustration pressing on him. He couldn’t allow anyone to defy him, especially not when it came to matters as serious as this. The sharks had been sent to handle the situation, to get back the money they were owed—but they’d taken it too far. Taking the girl and her mother? That wasn’t part of the deal.

Seonghwa, who had been standing nearby, watching his captain closely, didn’t need to ask what was wrong. He’d seen this side of Hongjoong before—when his calm, controlled demeanor slipped, and the storm beneath came to the surface.

“Prepare Jongho and Yunho,” Hongjoong said, his voice low but filled with authority. “I want them to investigate. I want to know exactly what those sharks did, and I want them to fix this. I’ll have no one undermining my orders.”

Seonghwa nodded, turning to leave, but Hongjoong stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Make sure it’s handled quietly,” Hongjoong added, his gaze steely. “We don’t need any more attention than we already have. And if they’ve done something unforgivable… make sure they know who’s in charge.”

Jongho, the Battle Master, was known for his strength and discipline. He’d follow orders without hesitation, but it was his ability to keep a level head in intense situations that Hongjoong trusted most. Yunho, the Master Gunner, had a sharp eye for details and a quick wit. Together with a few loyal crew members, they’d get to the bottom of this—and if the sharks had crossed a line, they’d deal with it swiftly.

Jongho and Yunho stood by the edge of the ship, the salty breeze tugging at their hair as they discussed their next move.

Yunho crossed his arms, leaning against the railing. “So, we’re going to investigate what those sharks did… and if they’ve really messed up, we’re supposed to clean up their mess?” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jongho, standing beside him, shook his head with a chuckle. “Seems like it. I don’t think Captain Hongjoong’s happy that they went rogue. Taking the girl and her mother? That’s a whole new level of stupid.” He sighed, glancing out at the horizon.

“I mean, we’re talking about a bunch of thugs who can’t follow orders. What’s next? Are they going to steal the moon?”

Yunho snorted. “If they tried, I’d pay good money to see it. But seriously, jongho, this is a mess. We’ve got to figure out how to handle this without making it worse. The last thing we need is a full-blown war with the sharks because they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”

Jongho chuckled darkly. “Yeah, because Hongjoong’s ‘fixing problems quietly’ approach works out so well, right?” He paused. “Let’s just hope these sharks haven’t completely pissed him off. I don’t think even we could smooth things over if he’s really that angry.”

He then grinned. “I’ll make sure to bring some extra bandages, just in case.”

Yunho shot him a sideways glance. “What, you think we’re going to knock some sense into them with our fists?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Jongho replied, giving him a smile. “Though, I prefer it when the problem just gets solved with a good ol' conversation. You know, like ‘Hey, don’t take the girl, or I’ll break your legs.’”

Yunho let out a dry laugh. “Sounds like a great ‘conversation’ to me.”

He then smirked at jongho and said, “But you know, I’m always ready to put some holes in bastards. Let’s get to work.” (See what I did there? ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠° )

The air was thick with tension as Jongho and Yunho made their way to the den. They had gathered all the intel they needed and were now ready to end this. The sharp tang of saltwater in the air mixed with the musty, oppressive smell of the building, and Jongho’s grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.

“You ready?” Yunho asked, his voice low, scanning the area.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Jongho replied, his tone steadier than he felt. They moved quickly, slipping through the shadows toward the back entrance of the den. The door creaked open under Jongho’s steady push, and they silently entered.

Jongho and Yunho moved like shadows, circling around the room, eyes scanning for the girl. The moment their eyes met, Jongho felt his heart stop. There she was—tied to a chair, her head lowered. Her breathing was shallow, and her hands were bound tight, but she was alive. She looked up at him, her eyes widening.

Jongho felt his chest tighten. He was shocked. Not because this was her. The same girl he had seen in the market, and now here she was, in the middle of this chaos, helpless. But because he still remembered her vividly. He has never remembered anyone's face other than ill intent. This made his heart do something he didn't like.

He was about to rush forward when Yunho grabbed his arm. “Stay focused,” Yunho muttered, his eyes scanning the sharks. “We’ll get her, but we need to take them down first.”

Jongho nodded, his heart racing. He knew Yunho was right—they couldn’t let their guard down. The sharks were too dangerous, and they had to be neutralized quickly.

In one fluid motion, Yunho drew his gun and fired, sending one of the sharks crashing to the ground. The noise startled the rest of the men, and chaos erupted. Jongho lunged forward, his sword cutting through the air with precision. Each swing was met with resistance, but he wasn’t slowing down.

The fight was quick but brutal, the room filled with the sounds of swords clashing and bodies hitting the ground. Jongho’s eyes searched the girl, and as soon as the last shark was down, he rushed to her side.

“Hold on,” he said, his voice softer now, as he cut through her ropes. She winced slightly as he freed her wrists, but she didn’t say a word—her eyes were locked on him, full of both fear and relief.

“You’re safe now,” Jongho said, his heart pounding as he helped her to her feet. But as he looked down at her, his heart skipped a beat. Her face was streaked with dried tears and blood, she had a busted lip and a bloodied injury on the side of her head. He realized then that this wasn’t just about the mission anymore. There was something about her that tugged at him, something deeper than just a rescue.

She looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. “Who are you?”

Jongho smiled softly, trying to mask the sudden rush of emotions flooding through him. “Jongho. Battle Master on Captain Hongjoong’s ship.”

Her eyes flickered with recognition. “You… you were at the market.” She hesitated, her voice uncertain. “You… you’re a pirate? Of the Halazia”

Jongho nodded, his heart tightening. “We’re here to get you out of this mess. But right now, we need to move fast.”

She looked around, “But my mom-”

“Yunho will take care of that”

Before she could respond, they heard footsteps approaching. Yunho’s voice was low and urgent. “Jongho, we’ve got to go, now!”

Jongho took her hand gently, pulling her toward the door. As they ran, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his heart had just made a decision he wasn’t sure he was ready for. He had come here to do a job, to rescue her and get out. But somewhere in that chaotic moment, he realized he wanted to protect her.

The door slammed open, and they ran out into the night. Behind them, the sounds of pursuit echoed, but Jongho didn’t care. He would protect her. No matter what it took.

You settled back into the familiarity of home, the creaking of the old wooden floors and the comforting hum of the market outside grounding you after the chaos of recent events. Life was quiet again, though a bit lonelier now. Your mother busied herself with building a shop, leaving you to wander between chores and stolen moments of peace.

Life aboard the ship was as chaotic as ever, but lately, the crew had found a new source of amusement—or annoyance, depending on who you asked.

“Jongho, will you sit down already?” Seonghwa groaned, throwing an exasperated glance at the younger man pacing the deck.

Jongho ignored him, his brow furrowed in thought as he muttered to himself. “I haven’t checked in on her in over a week. What if something’s happened? What if someone’s bothering her again?”

“Again with the girl,” Yunho drawled, leaning lazily against a barrel. “You’ve mentioned her three times today already. You’re worse than Hongjoong’s parrot.”

“Worse than his parrot?” Yeosang, the navigator, asked as he descended from the helm, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Now that’s saying something. I didn’t think anyone could top its constant squawking.”

“Maybe the parrot’s jealous,” Mingi, the boatswain, chimed in as he carried a coil of rope over his shoulder. He dropped it near the mast and turned to Jongho, his grin matching Yeosang’s. “Sounds like it’s got competition for Jongho’s attention.”

Hongjoong, seated at a small table nearby, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He sipped his drink with a smirk, clearly enjoying the rare sight of Jongho being the center of everyone’s teasing. "I didn't even take my money from her for you"

"captain aren't you like one of the richest people in the 7 seas?" Someone grumbled.

“It’s not like that,” Jongho said firmly, shooting Yunho a glare before turning to Yeosang and Mingi. “She’s been through enough already. Someone has to make sure she’s alright.”

“Someone?” San chimed in, his grin wide. “Or you?”

“Let’s be real,” Wooyoung added with a dramatic sigh. “You don’t just want to make sure she’s safe. You’re attached. Admit it.”

“Sounds like attachment to me,” Yeosang agreed, leaning against the railing with an amused expression. “You’re practically obsessing.”

“I wouldn’t call it obsession,” Mingi said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “It’s more like…” He paused for dramatic effect, his grin widening.

“Infatuation.”

Jongho stopped pacing long enough to shoot them all a sharp look. “I’m doing my job. Protecting her is my responsibility.”

“Protecting her,” Seonghwa said, drawing out the words mockingly. “Or is it something more?”

“I don’t love her,” Jongho snapped, his tone final.

The crew burst into laughter, the sound echoing across the deck. Even Hongjoong let out a low chuckle, finally setting his drink down.

“If you don’t love her,” the captain said, leaning back in his chair, “then stop pacing around like a lovesick puppy. You’re throwing off the entire crew."

“Yeah,” Yunho added with a grin. “Even the parrot’s giving you side-eye at this point.”

Jongho opened his mouth to retort but found no words that would convince them otherwise. Instead, he huffed and crossed his arms, retreating to his post with an annoyed scowl.

Yeosang exchanged a glance with Mingi before smirking. “He’ll realize it eventually,” he said quietly.

“Or we’ll keep reminding him until he does,” Mingi replied with a chuckle.

As the laughter died down and the crew returned to their tasks. Jongho didn’t love her, he told himself. He was just… concerned. That was all. Yes, that's it.

It had been weeks since you’d last seen Jongho. You told yourself you shouldn’t expect him, that he had his own life aboard the ship, filled with duties and battles you couldn’t begin to imagine.

But some small, stubborn part of you always found your eyes drifting to the road outside, hoping to catch sight of him.

And then, one evening, as the sky blushed with the soft hues of sunset, you heard it—the measured, confident sound of boots against gravel. Your heart leapt before you could stop it, and you quickly wiped your hands on your apron, glancing toward the door just as his familiar silhouette appeared.

“Jongho,” you said, trying to sound calm though you could feel your pulse racing.

He nodded, stepping into the doorway. His eyes swept the room, taking in the tidy shelves and the faint scent of freshly baked bread. “Everything alright?” he asked, his tone steady, the same question he always asked.

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “It is now. Come in.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the invitation, but eventually stepped inside, his presence filling the small space effortlessly.

You poured him tea, the silence between you familiar and strangely comforting. He didn’t say much—he rarely did—but his quiet presence was enough. You found yourself telling him about the shop, how business had picked up again, and how you’d repaired the shutters just last week. He listened intently, his gaze steady, his attention making you feel like your words mattered.

When he finally rose to leave, you felt a pang of disappointment, though you didn’t say anything. He paused at the door, glancing back at you.

“I’ll check in again,” he said simply.

You nodded, your smile soft but genuine. “I’ll be here.”

And then he was gone, the sound of his boots fading into the evening air. You stood there for a moment, staring at the empty doorway, your heart inexplicably lighter.

You didn’t know why he kept coming back, and maybe he didn’t either. But you found yourself looking forward to his visits, to the way he made you feel seen and safe in a way no one else ever had. For now, that was enough.

The air outside buzzed with excitement, the faint sound of music and chatter from the central town festival reaching your small home. You stood at the window, peeking out at the vibrant colors of the decorations that dotted the streets beyond your view.

The door creaked open, and you turned to see Jongho stepping inside. His usual calm demeanor was in place, though his eyes flicked over you briefly, taking in the faint spark of longing in your expression.

“There’s a festival in town,” he said, his voice low but steady.

You nodded, brushing your hands on your skirt. “I know. I’ve always wanted to go, but…”

Your voice trailed off, and you glanced toward your mother, who stood nearby, watching the two of you.

Jongho followed your gaze, his brow furrowing slightly. “Why not?”

Your mother sighed, folding her arms. “She’s young, and festivals can be crowded, chaotic… dangerous. I can’t let her go alone.”

“I’ll take her,” Jongho said simply, as though the decision had already been made.

“You'd do that? Take me there?”

“Why not?”

Both you and your mother looked at him, surprised. He met your mother’s gaze evenly, his tone firm. “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

Your mother hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. Finally, she nodded, though she still seemed unsure. “Alright. But don’t let her out of your sight.”

A rush of excitement and nervousness bubbled up inside you as you grabbed your shawl. “Thank you, Jongho,” you said softly, your smile warm and genuine.

---

The town was alive with color and energy. Lanterns hung from every building, their soft glow casting a warm light over the cobblestone streets. Stalls lined the roads, selling everything from sweets to trinkets, and performers entertained small crowds with music and dancing.

Jongho stayed close to you, his presence a steady anchor in the lively chaos. His hand hovered near your back, guiding you through the crowd without a word.

“Where should we go first?” you asked, looking up at him.

He glanced around, his eyes scanning the stalls and performers. “Wherever you want.”

“I don't know, you choose”

“We can do whatever you want”

You look down a bit and think. You'd never been given choices. They were always made for you. You always felt pressure whenever someone said to choose something and at the end you just keep saying ‘whatever you want’.

You grinned, feeling a rare sense of freedom. Tugging gently on his sleeve, you led him to a stall selling candied apples. He didn’t protest when you bought one for yourself and insisted he try one too, but he informed you that he can't have sweet things.

You went around stall from stall, that's when you spotted a beautiful earring in one of the stalls. It was completely your style and pretty. You kept looking at it, that's when jongho noticed you looking somewhere.

“Where are you looking at?”

You look back at him and smile, “nothing.” Maybe I can ask mom to buy these next year, if we can come.

As the night went on, you wandered from one attraction to another. You laughed at a juggler’s clumsy tricks, marveled at the intricate designs of hand-painted fans, and even managed to coax Jongho into trying his hand at a ring toss game.

He didn’t win, but the sight of him concentrating so intently on the simple game made you laugh until your sides hurt.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward in a faint smile.

“Maybe,” you teased, feeling more at ease with him than ever before.

When the night sky filled with stars, the two of you found a quieter spot on the edge of the festival grounds. You sat on a low stone wall, watching the festival bustling with people even though it was pretty late at night.

“Thank you,” you said after a while, your voice soft.

Jongho turned to look at you, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “For what?”

“For taking me here,” you said, meeting his gaze. “Looking out for me. You didn’t have to, but… it means a lot.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes studying you. Then he nodded, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s no trouble.”

Back at the ship, Jongho returned to the bustling crew. The festival had left him with a strange feeling, one he couldn’t quite place.

“You’re back,” Yunho said, leaning against the mast with a grin. “How was your little outing?”

“It was fine,” Jongho replied curtly, brushing past him.

“Fine?” Wooyoung piped up, sidling up with a mischievous glint in his eye. “That’s all we get? Come on, did she hold your hand? Laugh at your jokes? Look at you like you’re her hero?”

“Wooyoung,” Jongho warned, his tone low.

But the teasing only grew as San joined in. “Admit it, you enjoyed yourself.”

Jongho shot them a glare that silenced most of their laughter, though their knowing looks didn’t fade.

He didn’t understand the pull he felt toward you, but one thing was clear: he would keep protecting you, no matter what. Anything beyond that… he wasn’t ready to think about it

The next time Jongho visited your home, it was early evening. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting golden light over the small house. You were outside, tending to the small garden by the porch, when you noticed him approaching.

“Jongho,” you greeted, brushing dirt off your hands as you stood. His posture was straighter, and his hands were tucked behind his back.

“Hello,” he said, his voice calm as always, though his eyes briefly flickered down to the dirt smudged on your cheek.

“What brings you here?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder as though ensuring no one was watching. Then, clearing his throat, he brought his hand forward to reveal a small cloth-wrapped bundle.

You blinked at it, unsure of what it could be. “What’s this?”

“Just take it,” he said, his tone gruff, though he avoided your gaze as he extended the bundle toward you.

With a curious smile, you untied the cloth, your breath catching as the fabric fell away to reveal a pair of delicate earrings. They were simple yet elegant, their small gemstone pendants glinting in the light.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized them. “These… these were at the festival,” you murmured, tracing a finger over the smooth surface of one gem. “I saw them, but—”.

“You were staring at them right? That day?,” Jongho interrupted, his voice firm but quieter now. “Figured you might like them.”

Clutching the earrings tightly in your hand. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he replied simply, meeting your gaze for a moment before looking away, almost as if he were embarrassed. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” you insisted, a soft laugh escaping you. “This is… this is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me.”

Jongho shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. Just thought you’d like them.”

Your fingers gently traced over the smooth gemstones on the earrings, the delicate sparkle catching the fading sunlight. “But…” you hesitated, looking up at Jongho, who stood there with his usual calm demeanor. “Aren’t these expensive?”

He tilted his head slightly, an almost amused glint in his eyes. “I’m rich,” he said matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything.

You blinked at him, surprised by his bluntness. “You’re what?”

“Rich,” he repeated, his tone steady, though there was the faintest hint of humor tugging at the corner of his lips. “Why does that surprise you? I'm part of the richest pirates in the seven seas. Do you not know?”

“I mean… you’re on a ship all the time,” you said, flustered. “You don’t exactly seem—”

“Seem what?” he cut in, raising an eyebrow.

“Like someone who’d buy earrings for a girl,” you finished, your cheeks warming.

Jongho crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t buy them for just anyone. I bought them for you. That’s different.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you clutched the earrings tighter, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“I told you, it’s no big deal,” he continued, his tone softening slightly. “You liked them, so I got them. Don’t think too much about it.”

You smiled despite yourself, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and something else you couldn’t quite name. “Thank you,” you said again, your voice quieter this time.

He nodded, the faintest trace of a smile on his face. “You’re welcome.”

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but call after him, “So, how rich are we talking?”

Jongho paused, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk that was so subtle you almost missed it. “Rich enough to buy the earrings and not think twice about it.”

You laughed softly as he walked away, your heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

Unknown to you, the poor boy had gone through the torment of his 7 brothers, who won't leave him alone. They teased him so much about the earrings that he almost almost threw one of them overboard.

The crew was always quick to notice anything out of the ordinary, and had clearly picked up on Jongho’s latest visit to your home.

“So,” Yunho started, leaning casually against a barrel as Jongho walked across the deck, “we heard about the earrings.”

Jongho paused, his jaw tightening slightly. “What about them?”

“Oh, nothing,” Wooyoung piped up, barely containing his grin. “Just that our stoic Jongho has a soft spot for a certain someone.”

San joined in, throwing an arm dramatically around Jongho’s shoulder. “You know, if you’re going to buy her gifts, why not go all out? Maybe a necklace next time? Or a whole jewelry set?”

Jongho shrugged off San’s arm, his expression unimpressed. “It was just a pair of earrings. Don’t make it a big deal.”

“A pair of earrings,” Seonghwa repeated, feigning shock. “Do you know how much effort that is? Choosing the right ones, paying for them…”

Yeosang, who rarely joined in on the teasing, leaned against the railing with a faint smirk. “I’m just curious how long it took you to pick them out. Did you stare at the stall for an hour?”

“He probably scared the vendor,” Mingi added, his laughter booming across the deck. “Standing there, glaring at the earrings until they wrapped them up for him.”

Even Hongjoong, who had been silently observing from his chair, chimed in with a sly smile. “So, Jongho, how does it feel to be the romantic of the group? Should we start calling you the ship’s Cupid?”

Jongho’s patience was clearly thinning, but his expression remained steady. “I’m not romantic. I just thought she’d like them. That’s it.”

Wooyoung clutched his chest dramatically, staggering back. “He thought she’d like them! Oh, it’s worse than we thought—he’s thinking about her!”

“That’s enough,” Jongho said firmly, though the slight pink tinge to his ears betrayed his frustration.

Yunho, ever the instigator, leaned closer with a mischievous grin. “You know, Jongho, if you keep this up, we might need to start a fund for all the gifts you’ll be buying her.”

Jongho shot him a sharp look. “You’re all lucky I don’t throw you overboard.”

The crew erupted into laughter, thoroughly enjoying themselves at Jongho’s expense. Despite his annoyance, Jongho couldn’t fully suppress a faint smile as he turned and walked away.

As the teasing continued behind him, one thought lingered in his mind: he didn’t regret buying the earrings, no matter how much they made fun of him. If it made you smile, it was worth every ounce of ridicule.

The laughter and teasing aboard the ship gradually subsided as the crew prepared for their next voyage. Supplies were loaded, sails checked, and the familiar hum of activity filled the air. But this time, there was an unspoken heaviness among them. They were leaving the port—and there was no telling when they’d return.

Jongho stood near the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the town lay, now bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.

“She’ll be fine, you know,” Yunho said, walking up beside him and leaning against the railing.

Jongho didn’t respond immediately. His grip on the wood tightened slightly, his eyes scanning the distant rooftops as though he could catch a glimpse of you from here. “I know,” he said finally, though his tone lacked conviction.

Yunho chuckled softly. “You’re terrible at lying, Jongho. Especially to yourself.”

“Leave him be,” Seonghwa said, passing by with a small smirk. “He’s just sulking because he can’t buy her more earrings from the next town.”

“Maybe we should’ve taken her with us,” Wooyoung suggested with a mischievous grin, appearing on Jongho’s other side. “At least then, Jongho wouldn’t be moping around like a kicked puppy.”

Jongho shot him a warning look. “She’s safer at home.”

“True,” Mingi chimed in as he approached, slapping Jongho on the back. “But are you safer without her?”

The others burst into laughter, their voices carrying across the deck, but Jongho remained silent. His thoughts were already elsewhere—back at the small house where he’d left you.

Now, as the ship’s anchor was lifted and the sails unfurled, Jongho couldn’t help but glance back one last time. The town grew smaller in the distance, and with it, the little piece of peace he’d found there.

Everything had to come to an end, he reminded himself, but this end felt heavier than he’d expected. Even as the ship carried him further from the port, his thoughts lingered on you—on your quiet strength, your laughter, and the way your smile had made the world seem just a little brighter.

For now, all he could do was focus on the journey ahead and trust that fate would bring him back to you someday.

Their journey had been long and unpredictable, filled with danger, discovery, and the relentless pursuit of fortune. From navigating treacherous waters to encountering rival ships, every day aboard the ship demanded resilience and wit.

They'd charted unknown territories, bartered with distant towns, and clashed with pirates in battles that tested their mettle. The crew thrived on the adrenaline of their adventures, though the weight of uncertainty often hung over them.

For Jongho, the journey was a blur of responsibility and restlessness, his thoughts occasionally drifting to the little house by the port. Each victory and challenge brought them closer to returning, though they never knew when that day would come.

Now, after years away, the ship had finally docked, and their travels were behind them—for now.

The town felt both familiar and distant as Jongho and the crew disembarked after years at sea. Jongho’s eyes instinctively searched the streets, scanning for any sign of you. The house came into view quickly, and his steps faltered. It looked well-kept, the garden vibrant and alive, and the faint scent of baked goods wafted from an open window.

As he approached the door, he noticed a subtle change—a sign hung near the entrance: “Homemade Goods & Repairs.” His brow furrowed, curiosity rising.

He knocked lightly, and a familiar voice called out, “One moment!”

When you opened the door, your expression lit up instantly. “Jongho!”

You were different, older somehow, with a confidence in the way you stood. Your hands were dusted with flour, and there was a smudge of it on your cheek. But your smile was as bright as ever, and seeing it eased something in Jongho’s chest.

“You’re back,” you said warmly, stepping aside to let him in. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”

“I didn’t expect to see this,” Jongho replied, motioning toward the bustling shop area. Shelves lined with jars of jams and pastries occupied one side, while the other side displayed tools and items neatly organized for repairs.

You chuckled, wiping your hands on your apron. “After my mom passed, I needed something to keep me busy. The shop helps, and it keeps me connected to the town. I do alright.”

Jongho nodded, glancing around. The place had a sense of order and life he hadn’t expected. “You’re running this by yourself?”

“For now,” you replied, smiling proudly. “The town’s been good to me. They keep me busy enough, and I like it that way.”

Jongho’s gaze lingered on you, and he couldn’t help but notice the resilience in your tone. You weren’t the fragile girl he’d left behind. You’d grown, thrived even, despite everything.

“You’ve done well,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with admiration.

Still, his heart felt heavy as he considered what lay ahead. The ship wouldn’t stay docked for long; it never did. His life was the sea—a life of unpredictability, danger, and adventure. But standing here, surrounded by the quiet hum of your shop, he wondered if there was room for something else.

“You’ve made a good life for yourself,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

You nodded, leaning against the counter. “I have. It’s not always easy, but it’s mine.”

A silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken questions. He broke it first.

“I can’t ask you to leave this behind,” he said. “You’ve worked too hard to build it.”

Your brow furrowed as you studied him. “And you’re not ready to leave the sea.”

He shook his head. “That's all I’ve ever known.”

You stepped closer, your hand brushing against his arm. “Then don’t. You don’t have to choose, Jongho.”

He looked at you, confusion flickering across his face.

“You come and go,” you continued. “The sea is part of who you are, and I wouldn’t want to take that from you. But when you’re here, this can be home. If you want it to be.”

Home. The word hung in the air between you, and for the first time, Jongho felt a sense of calm he hadn’t known he was searching for.

“I don’t deserve that,” he said, his voice barely audible.

You smiled softly. “Maybe not. But it’s here anyway.”

Jongho was silent for a long moment, the weight of your words settling over him. He wanted to say more but wasn’t sure how. He wanted to ask you to come with him, to leave everything behind and sail with him, but he knew it wouldn’t be fair. You had your life here, and he couldn’t ask you to give that up for the uncertain life he led.

But then, without thinking, the words left his mouth, surprising even himself.

“Marry me.”

You froze, your eyes wide with shock. Jongho instantly regretted speaking before he’d thought it through. But he couldn’t take the words back now, and he didn’t want to.

He cleared his throat, trying to explain. “I know it sounds sudden, and I’m not asking you to give up your life here, but…” His voice faltered. “I don’t want to keep going back and forth, not anymore. I want you to be with me, always. Even when I’m out there on the sea. We could make it work, I know we could.”

You stared at him, your heart beating fast as you processed his words. The shock began to wear off, replaced by something warm and steady. Jongho had always been a protector to you, but hearing him say he wanted more—that he wanted to be with you no matter what—stirred something deep inside you.

You took a deep breath, the weight of his question settling on your chest. “Are you sure?” you asked quietly. “This isn’t just about wanting me close when it’s convenient for you?”

He shook his head, stepping closer. “No. I want all of you. Even when I’m gone. You’re the only thing that’s ever made me think about staying.”

You met his eyes, feeling the sincerity in his words. There was no doubt in your mind. “I’m not going anywhere,” you said, your voice steady now. “If you’re asking me to be part of your life, even with all the uncertainty, then yes. I’ll marry you.”

A smile spread across Jongho’s face, relief flooding through him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this certain about anything. Without another word, he pulled you into a tight embrace, the promise of the future settling between you like a quiet promise.

The sea might still call to him, but now, he had something far more important to come back to. And this time, it wouldn’t be just a visit—it would be home.

[nemesyaaa]

beautiful madness. mean!stepbro!rafe x reader.

warnings : rafe cameron. dubcon. toxic behavior. pet names. stepcest. dark content. smut (minors DNI).

“ where have you been?”

you had just come back from a night out with the pogues, honestly, the best night of your life. you were having so much fun that you didn't notice the time passing. and now you were dealing with that. well no, with rafe. your stepbro.

“ outside. sorry.”

he chuckled lightly, playfully stroking his jaw as he smiled at you. it wasn't reassuring, especially since he seemed to have had a bad day.

“rafe, i’m sorry okay.”

“no, you’re not sorry but it’s okay, sweetheart.” he said as he came closer, gently caressing your cheek. “absolutely, no problem.”

and you believed it before he threw you against the wall, your back slamming against the white surface.

“you’re so damn mad!”

“i thought you already knew that, princess, but i guess i overestimated you.”

you slapped him so hard that his face moved a little, before you started running around the huge Cameron house.

" i fear, you need to slap me better if you want to hurt me, sweetheart. " he said with a smirk. "do you really want to play ? it's my house, so not a good move of you to play hide&seek in this. i know all the rooms. be smart little bunny or the mad hunter will kill you. “

you just wanted to sleep, you were tired. you had alcohol in your blood and you found yourself in ward's office, a - normally forbidden room trying to escape your stepbro.

you covered your mouth with your hand, trying not to make a sound. you were afraid of the slightest noise you heard. you could hear his footsteps in the house, the way he was getting closer. his shadow moved so quickly.

when rafe had found you under the desk, a playful smile on his lips, his hand had savagely grabbed your throat. it was so violent that you had trouble breathing, you could feel his fingers tightening like a necklace around your skin.

“don’t run away from me. you like to be chased but you're afraid of being find, look at me princess, kill your mean stepbro with your lovely bunny eyes. not fun anymore ? no more playing ? ”

" i just hate you. i just want you to leave me alone."

" cry harder, and you will probably make me cum in my pants. see ? how you make me so hard. "

you spat in his face, you hated him so much and you just wanted him to go to jail.

"you want to spit so badly? ok, now my turn. open that mouth."

you kept your mouth shut and he laughed.

“you really want to see me mad. i try to be cool with you but now, i had enough.” he had tightened his grip around your throat.

he had used the desk to lay you down on it, forcing your legs apart to slide between them.

you were so small compared to him, disappearing under his big beefy body hidden in a suit.

“since you really want to be tamed, let me tame you. time to be a good stepbro and educate my dumb stepsista on how to be a good girl. ”

he had removed his belt, before making a necklace around your neck with it.

“i beg you, leave me alone!”

"so cute when you beg like that but it's already too late, bunny. next time, don't be such a dumb brat. "

you tried to push him, kicking his stomach. but he had grabbed your foot, and hooked you by the jaw, forcing your lips to open.he spat in it, his fingers digging into your cheeks.

“you better swallow.”

you swallowed under the pressure of his hand.

" the more you play, the meaner i will be, understand that ? “

he had pushed his fingers even harder into your jaw, forcing you to nod.

“ i’ll tell your father everything!”

“don’t forget the part where you came on my dick, squirting all over me, because you are anything but the innocent girl you pretend to be. now open those legs. your big stepbro is going to take good care of your pussy.”

you couldn't argue with him, he was stronger and heartless.

“ let me kneel for you princess, see how nice i am to you ? yes, tell me how i am nice to you “

“ i hate you so much, with all my heart. “

“ you're too nice to hate someone. now let's see if you hate me as much as you like to say.”

you could tell rafe had changed. ever since he got his buzzcut, he wasn't the same. he was a different man, even more dangerous.

he knelt down at the level of your pussy, while you were still lying on the table. he loved the sight of the soaked fabric, the shape of your lower lips through the underwear. he had placed his nose on your wet area, inhaling your part's scent.

he had started to insert two fingers in you, wanting to prepare you for what came next. he was surprised to see how tight you were. his fingers moved quickly, forcing the access inside your sopping hole. as he diving into it, he felt your walls contract around him. and he loved it. you arched your back, your hips moving as he scissored you. soft moans left out the corner of your dizzy mouth.

“ rafe…”

“ yes, don't forget who makes you feel this way, who owns this pussy better than anyone. i can't wait to put my dick inside you.”

you let out a cry on the third finger. you could feel your hole widen slightly, forcely opening as the fourth was inserted. he didn’t wait before fingering you harder, your clit buried in his mouth. he pulled it, pinched it, teased it between his teeth, before rolling the cap around his tongue.

“ not a brat anymore, must feel so good. you loved to be fingering by your stepbro ? “

he had slapped your pussy with his hand, before spitting inside. when he stood up, his huge body hovering over yours, he took off his shirt. his muscles were massive, there was no point in fighting against this man.

he had taken off his pants and boxers, pulling them down to his feet. he was completely hard, the tip of his cock pointing against your cunt.

“put a condom. i don't want to be pregnant."

“you wanted to act like a brat, you have to take responsibility to the end, sweetheart. see? your consequences have an impact.”

" i'm serious ! "

"and me even more. now, shut up and take this cock. see ? how hard am i for you."

he was tired of hearing you. he had covered your entire mouth with his huge veiny hand.

he was big, and your hole had a hard time taking him. you were in pain, terribly in pain, you gritted your teeth every time he managed to enter a little more.

“it will fit, even if i have to force it.”

the feeling was hell, tears were streaming down your cheeks. when your pussy had finally opened up, your lower lips completely parted around his large size deep inside you, you had started to feel better. he thrust, his hips slamming against your body, his balls slapping your ass. your mascara was running down your face.

he was fucking you roughly, your body pressed against the table, your throat disappearing under his hand.

“ should i take a picture ? in case, you forget the whore you are for your stepbro. “

he kept hitting your spot with his big cock, while looking at your tits boucing.

he had forced fingers into your mouth, turning your moans into babbles. you were drooling and dripping, your lips circling around him.

“ i can't worship you, you already such a big slut. all this fighting for nothing, princess. you're just a girl who wanted to be fucked so bad. tired of your useless sextoys ? you wanted something better and bigger, something that can make you fulfill you. i got you. after all, i'm your brother. nobody can understand you better than me. “

you were making a full mess, spitting and whining on his fingers, while your body arched every time rafe moved inside you.

“ i really want to take a picture of you. “

seeing that you didn't answer, he continued

"every time you don't answer me, i will pull out my dick. let's see how long you last"

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry”

"yes, i know you're sorry, you already said that. try something else."

“yes, take a picture of me”

“should i send it to your friends or keep it for myself? maybe, it's time for you to show me how grateful you are. “

all his thrusts harsh, making you moaning so loud. his heavy length driving into your walls, while he recorded with his phone.

“ look at the camera, show how pretty you are when you take your stepbro's cock.”he lifted your thighs, before slamming hard into you, and sliding back and forth.

he pulled out his dick, rubbing the leaking tip against your ripped slit, while you begged him to not play like that, and just take you fully. you cried harder, your tears against his large palm.

he had entered you again, one hand gripping your tiny hip, he held you in his big hands while he fucked you so hard.

he opened his mouth, slow spit falling onto your clit before he rolled his thumb over it. he had started to tease the little pearl, forming circles, taking it between his fingers, toying with it. you had starry, pleading eyes. you squirmed, but still stayed under his hand.

“ don't be such a crybaby. you can't act like a child when i’m fucking you like that, princess. “

“ rafe…rafe !”

“ yes, say my name again and again. this dick deep ball inside you really makes you so dumb. still hate me ? because i bet, this pussy loves me so much, the way it squeezes me. “

he was getting close, so close to cumming. your vagina spasmed around his cock, contracting more and more until he let out a groan. you had known he had spilling into you. he had continued to move within your walls, even though you had reached orgasm and so had he. you could feel his cum dripping from your abused slit.

when he stopped, you sucked him on your knees, licking his leaking tip, he had released his last drops into your mouth. your tongue had cleaned everything. you had also licked his balls, knowing that men loved it. you tugged them between your lips, lapping each one. you released one of them with a loud pop. you pressed it between your hands.

“ and you tell me you were so afraid of me ? you're just an actress, princess. but don't worry, i will make you the top 1. i have such a nice video of you taking my cock. “

“ keep it to yourself ! “

“i think you can beg better than that, especially when i fuck you so well. “

“ why are you doing this ? "

“because i can. and besides, there are cameras in this office. so i really think you're going to have to learn to beg better than that if you want those precious videos back.”