#SHE HOLDS THE BACK OF HIS HEAD THE SAME WAY SHE DID WHEN THEY WERE KIDS

[harryspet]

rough hands, soft chains [3] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, DUBCON, rafe is HUGE, pain with sex, fingering, breeding kink, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

In which you're not sure you truly have what it takes to "accommodate" your new fiancé.

word count: 4.2k

rough hands, soft chains masterlist

“Why do you insist on stealing my fiance?” 

Wheezie looked up at her brother from her place on the carpet. You were placing the last hair roller around her freshly curled hair, pinning it place. The two of you had spent the last two hours giving each other spa treatments, evidenced by the face mask on Wheezie’s face, and the under eye patches on yours. It seemed obvious to you what you were up to but Rafe’s face scrunched in confusion, maybe even annoyance, at the sight before him. 

“We’re having a girls night!” Wheezie protested, “Get out!” 

You blinked, glancing between the two siblings, trying to gauge whether this was actual tension or just their usual back-and-forth. Navigating the Cameron family dynamic was a constant puzzle, and you hated feeling caught in the middle of it. You genuinely liked all of them in different ways.

Well, almost all of them.

You weren’t sure what it was that you felt for Rafe. He seemed to force all the feelings out of you, prying his way into your brain and into your heart. 

“You can’t hold her hostage, Wheeze,” Her brother raised his voice back, “I need to talk to her, you know, about adult things. Shit you wouldn’t get.”

“Adult things, gross,” You could practically hear Wheezie’s smirk, “I’m sure Y/N would rather hang out with me than do adult things with you.” 

The meaning initially passed over your head. You looked at Rafe innocently, “Y/N?” His shift in focus to you made you panic for a moment. 

“Oh, well … we were going to do some meditation before bed too.” 

Rafe’s lips quirked into a smile that couldn’t possibly be genuine, “Fine, just come get me when you’re done.” 

The way he slammed Wheezie’s door shut also gave you the impression that he wasn’t happy. 

“Ignore him,” Wheezie said quickly. You admired her defiance sometimes. Rafe didn’t ever to seem to really rattle her the way he did to you. 

Over the past few weeks, she had become your guide to surviving life in this house. Out of everyone, she understood Rafe best. Sarah barely came around, and when she did, the way she looked at you—pitying, almost regretful—made you uncomfortable. You hated it. You’d rather spend time with Rose, who had taken you wedding dress shopping just the day before, only to scold you for picking something too “revealing.” She’d given you a long-winded speech about modesty and the importance of upholding the Cameron image. You were marrying into an exceptionally wealthy family, after all. You had to act like it.

But Wheezie? Wheezie was simply happy to have you there, to welcome you into her world. And slowly, you were beginning to imagine this as your new life. The thought didn’t seem so terrible when you pictured Wheezie as your sister.

It all came crashing down on you a few days after the incident with Rafe in the barn. You weren’t allowed to sleep in the same bed until you were officially married, Rose’s rule, but that didn’t keep Rafe from your bedroom in the middle of the night.

And when you woke, sore and spent, the weight of something unfamiliar pressed against your left hand.

A diamond.

Wheezie was fast asleep when you finally slipped out of her bedroom. In pink, fuzzy socks, you padded across the hallway towards Rafe’s room. You only knocked once before the door was opened and you were stepping inside. 

In contrast to yours, Rafe’s room was dark and brooding with darker woods and deep navy walls. A sturdy mahogony desk perched in the corner next to a leather armchair. There were no dainty florals or soft touches. His bed, much larger than yours, had the sheets strewn about, a possible indication of sleepless nights or …other activities. A few forgotten whiskey glasses sat on in nightstand. The only source of light in the room was from the soft, yellow glow of his desk lamp. 

It always felt intimate being in Rafe’s room, like you were completely in his world. Your gaze lifted, drawn to him as if by instinct. Shirtless, his toned chest and broad shoulders were carved in the dim light, his presence overwhelming in a way that sent a shiver through you.

“Turn around, darlin’.” 

Innocently, you obeyed his command. You were only confused for a moment. You yelped, feeling the cool air against the back of your legs as Rafe slipped down your long, silk pajamas. 

You should’ve known Rafe didn’t actually need to talk to you. 

Lifting you by your waist, Rafe carried you over to the bed swiftly, leaving your bottoms behind. He always laid you down gently but the firmness of his grip left no room for discussion. He knew exactly where he wanted your body, what position he desired to have you in. You were starting to get used to his routine. He undressed you, placed you where he wanted, and it wasn’t long before he was inside of you. 

Tonight, he wanted you on your stomach, your head resting at the edge of the bed. You didn’t dare look back at him, it always unsettled you more when you caught a glimpse of just how imposing he was. Instead, you kept your gaze forward, fixated on the shadows and darkness in the window. You felt the weight of his legs straddling yours, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your bottom before delivering a few sharp, deliberate slaps. A shiver ran through you as his fingers hooked into your panties, dragging them aside with ease, exposing you to him entirely.

He spit into his hand and you jumped again when you felt his fingers teasing your warm center. For an excruciatinly long time, he placed a strong hand on your upper back, keeping you pinned as he sunk his fingers inside of you. He had called it 'warming you up' the last time. His pace was slow, deliberate. You were biting down onto the comforter by the time his third digit pushed inside. Now, you could happily take two of his fingers. You’d like sex with Rafe much more if it simply involved two of his fingers pushing in an out of you. When he added that circling motion on your sensitive bud, you could reach that beautiful peak quickly. But the third finger was the closest thing he could use to prepare you for his size. 

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice smooth yet firm, a response to your soft whimpers, “Relax. You make it worse when you’re so tense.”

“Sorry,” You rushed out before you bit down on your lip hard, “Rafe, um, can you…” 

He pushed deeper and you reached out to grab the wooden bed frame in front of you, “Can I what, darlin’?”

“T-Touch me?” You asked, unsure, wincing as the feeling of being stretched, “Please.” 

In response, he adjusted your hips, pulling them up from the bed, still three fingers deep inside of you, before he started to circle your clit with the thumb of his other hand. You took in rapid breaths as you adjusted to the sensation, the pleasure now beginning to mix in with the discomfort. 

“Think you can come like this, baby?” 

“Uh,” You pressed your face into the mattress, your words failing you, and soon all that was left were sobs. 

“Try, baby,” You heard him say, “Squeeze my fingers.”

You had never considered that "down there" was a muscle—until Rafe. Obeying his command, you imagined yourself squeezing his fingers, and the response was immediate. Your body reacted instinctively, heightening your pleasure and pushing you toward release. It was overwhelming. Almost painful. But an orgasm nonetheless. Your first one with Rafe had taken you so much by surprise that Rafe had to cover your face with a pillow to keep you from waking up the entire house. 

Tonight, you muffled your own screaming, pressing your face further into the blankets. He left you no time to recover. As soon as your body was more … accepting, he started to push himself inside of you. Panicked, you reached back to push at his hip, an attempt at requesting for him to slow his pace. He felt even larger in this position, and it didn’t take long to realize he was pressing against a barrier deep inside you.

You had to accommodate him. He was your future husband and you had be able to lie with him. He deserved pleasure too and how else would you be able to have kids one day? You wanted a family again, right? 

One day, it would get easier. Rafe would make sure of it. He would help you, guide you, until your body learned to take him without resistance.

By the time Rafe reached his climax, you were a sweaty, tear-streaked mess. He had promised it would get easier, yet once again, you were left aching and sore. When he finally lifted his weight off you, your body remained frozen in place.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shifting to the other end of the bed. You heard the rustle of sheets as he settled in, his head hitting the pillow.

“Y/N?”

“Y-Yes?” you replied, your voice shaky.

“Go pee,” he ordered, his tone firm yet drowsy.

“Why?”

“Just go,” he repeated, exhaling sharply. “I’m fucking tired.”

It took every ounce of strength, but you pushed yourself up from the bed. You felt his eyes on you as you waddled to his bathroom door, still able to feel him inside of you, white stuff dripping down your thighs. 

Inside, you flipped on the bathroom light, squinting as your eyes attempted to adjust. Your legs trembled as you lowered yourself onto the toilet. You heard Rafe shifting in bed, the sheets rustling as he got comfortable. He was already drifting off, unbothered, while you sat there, trying to collect yourself. 

After a moment, you reached for some toilet paper, dabbing at the mess between your thighs. Your body still felt raw, stretched beyond what you thought possible. Flushing the toilet, you moved to the sink, cupping cold water in your hands and splashing it on your face. 

You turned off the light and stepped back into the bedroom. Still glistening with a layer of sweat, he laid down with an arm over his face as he breathed steadily and quietly. You found your pajama bottoms sitting by the door and carefully put them back over your legs. 

“Y/N?” You were reaching for the handle of his bedroom door and paused. 

“Yeah?”

“Stay in here with me.”

“We’re not supposed to–”

“I’m a grown man and you’re my fucking fiance.”

He always spoke so sharply and in a way that left no room for arguing. Sometimes, that anger and frustration wasn’t directed at you but that didn’t make you immune from feeling it. The last thing you wanted was to cause any problem’s with his parents. They’d made it very clear that they expected the two of you to sleep separately until the wedding. 

Slowly, you turned to face him. He was still sprawled across the bed, the sheets tangled around his waist, his bare chest rising and falling. 

“Stay,” he repeated, softer this time, the demand still there.

Silently, you padded over to his bed again. He lifted the sheets and carefully, you climbed into the bed, beside him. 

“There you go, darlin’” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple as he tucked you beneath him, his weight pinning you into place. “Right where you belong.”

Seeing how much happier Juliet was at the Cameron ranch made you question why you didn’t feel the same as her. 

Late afternoon sun bathed the Cameron state in warm gold as you rode beside Sarah Cameron. Juliet moved beneath you with ease, but every step sent a dull ache through your thighs. You winced, shifting slightly in the saddle in an attempt to ease the soreness.

Sarah, riding beside you on her white mare, caught it immediately, “You good?” She asked, concern on her face. 

You nodded quickly, “Oh, I’m fine. I just haven’t rode in awhile.” 

It hurt to even slide on your tight jeans that morning thanks to the bruising on your inner thighs and the soreness in your middle. You turned your head, watching as the barn got farther from your view. You and Sarah had left John B. and Rafe hunched over a work bench, repairing worn bridles and saddles. 

Rafe had let you tag along for the day, surprising you both when you found Sarah already there with John B., leaning against a stall with her arms crossed. The moment she saw you, she swung effortlessly onto her horse, flashing you a grin. “Come on. Juliet is yours, right?,” she urged, nudging her mare forward. “Let’s leave the boys to their busy work."

You looked to Rafe for permission, of course, and took his rolled eyes and quick dismissal as a yes. 

Now, she caught your quick glances back towards the barn, “My brother isn’t hurting you, is he?” 

Her words took you by complete surprise. Your fingers tensed on Juliet’s reins, pulling too sharply, and for a moment, the mare tossed her head in protest, “Sorry, Julie,” You said, “Uhm, what? N-no. Why … why would you think that?” 

She gave you a look that was hard to read and your horses continued alongside each other, “I’m sure you’ve gotten to know what he’s like,” She said, “Do you … think he’s a nice guy?”

“He’s…” You rushed to answer, wanting to reassure her, but the words got tangled in your head. “He’s nice to me,” you finally said, nodding like that would make it more true. “Sometimes he, like, talks really directly? In a way that… I don’t know, kinda hurts my feelings? But I know he doesn’t mean to be mean.”

“Huh,” Sarah took in your words, and you smiled, trying to ease the tension in the conversation, “He’s a lot for most people. To be honest, I don’t know if you’re what I pictured for the girl he’d finally settle down with.”

“Oh,” You said, trying to not to let the way your heart panged with hurt show on your face, “Yeah, maybe. I guess I’m not very strong… or the smartest person.” 

Sarah’s eyes softened, her expression shifting from the guarded look she’d worn before. “Hey, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean it like that,” she said quickly, pulling her horse a little closer to yours. “I just... I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I know how confusing and lonely it is. And it might make you feel better to get wrapped up with Rafe but it’s also good to have your own life. Maybe your own friends?”

She searched your gaze and you felt your throat tighten and tears threatening to escape, “Wheezie’s my friend, at least.”

“Wheezie’s great,” Sarah said which made you smile sadly, “I have some friends. John B and I do. They live on the otherside of Kildare but I always try to meet up with them. They’re cool and they’re actually our age. I’d love to introduce you to them.”

Your heart gave a small, hesitant flutter. “That would be fun,” you said quietly, and for the first time in a while, you entertained the thought of something else, something new. 

“Do you drink?” She asked after a moment of just enjoying the breeze and watching the tall, swaying grass. 

“I have before,” You said feeling a little sheepish, “Just not enough to say I like it, I guess. Why?”

“When I go over there, we usually drink, watch a movie, play games, that kind of thing. It’s really fun. You don’t have to drink but I think you’ll like it.” 

“Does Rafe know your friends?”

Sarah snorted, “Uh, yeah. He wouldn’t want to come with us. Don’t mention it to him yet, though, okay?”

“Oh, okay,” You agreed, “Sarah, do you think you could come next time I go dress shopping? Rose is a little…”

“Uptight,” She finished, “Yeah, sure. That would be fun.”

Your opinion of Sarah Cameron had shifted quickly and for the better. 

“Like I said before, you’re moving too fast with her, Rafe.” 

Rafe should’ve known that his father didn’t invite him to breakfast at the diner in town for father-son bonding time. Nor was it a business meeting. He would’ve preferred either over a lecture. He was stuck, unable to really raise his voice, due to the public setting which Ward knew undoubtedly. The diner was a small place, the kind of spot where everyone knew each other’s names and half the town seemed to gather before heading off to the fields or pastures. 

It was when they got back into Ward’s SUV that Rafe could finally say what he felt. “This is micromanagement. You’re fucking micromanaging me, Dad! I did what you wanted and you’re upset because I’m not doing it exactly the way you want.”

Ward’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tight Rafe thought it might break. “I need you to get it through your thick skull that you don’t know everything, Rafe.”

“This is just Rose and her bullshit–”

“It’s disrespectful and you know that. We’re being woken up at all times of the night. Not to mention the girl is walking around with hickies and bruising. What’s that gonna look like to people in town? We took in that girl! People will think we’re using her. It’s not a good look.” 

Ward started up the car and pulled away quickly, the tires kicking up dust as they left the quiet, small-town streets behind. Kildare was a ranching community, where everyone’s business was their business. Rafe couldn’t do anything without people noticing. 

“None of this will matter after the wedding. I don’t know, Dad, I guess I just don’t give a shit anymore what other people think.”

“You won’t take over the business if that’s how you see things.”

“Dad–”

“And you won’t get the Ironwood house. We’ve talked about this endlessly,” Rafe’s fist hit the paneling of the car door and he squeezed his eyes tightly as the anger passed through him, radiating through him, warming his skin, “You get the house under the conditions that Rose and I set.” 

“That house is mine. You know that Mom wanted it that way,” Rafe argued with clenched fists, “You don’t get to control that, Dad.” Rafe’s voice was sharp, raw, but there was a tremor beneath the surface. The Ironwood house had been promised to him, but Ward had always been the one to hold the strings, dangling that future in front of him like a carrot on a stick. “I earned that house. I’ve worked for it. You can’t just take it away.”

About twenty miles from the Cameron estate, nestled along a winding dirt road that cut through the sprawling countryside, sat the Ironwood house. The house wasn’t as grand as the Cameron estate it had a quiet but rugged charm. It had once belonged to a competitor before the Cameron family had purchased the land after his passing.

Ward’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles pale in the dim light. “I’m not taking anything from you, Rafe. But if you want to go off and make mistakes, you know, like getting that girl pregnant just a few weeks after you met her or embarrassing our family, then there will be consequences.”

Rafe nodded his head though inside he was seething, “I got it, Dad,” Rafe rubbed his face in his hands, his jaw clenched tightly, “You win.” 

You fucking win, Rafe thought, for now. 

Oh, you were perfect for him. Rafe kept quiet throughout dinner that night but that was because he was intently watching you. The way you confidently wore that pink, gingham dress that was cut way too low, to the point that your breasts were practically spilling from it. When you caught Rafe glancing at you, you’d flash him a shy smile. Lips shining with gloss and sparkles, Rafe imagined smudging all your makeup. 

He’d been working on training your hole to take him, he hadn’t considered training your mouth yet. You seemed more comfortable, making conversation with both Wheezie and Sarah. The way you carried yourself, effortlessly making them laugh, was different, more natural.

It would be good if you liked this family but Rafe couldn’t help that his mind wandered to the family he would make. His father's attempts to control him, especially in the bedroom, only made things worse. It triggered something deep within him. It was his god-given right as a man to fuck you in all the ways he wanted, with or without protection. You were his. That had been true ever since he put a ring on your left hand. 

After dinner, Rafe pulled you upstairs into Ward’s office. It was reckless, he knew that, but he was clinging onto that sense of control. 

“What are we doing in here?”

“I’m going to fuck you,” Rafe replied, his eyes tracking the shift in your expression as the realization hit. The fear in your face made him harder than he already was, and he had to undo his belt. “Go sit on the desk,” he instructed, gesturing to the large mahogany desk in the center of the room.

“But that’s your dad’s desk,” you hesitated, a frown tugging at your lips. “Isn’t that, like, weird?”

Rafe shot you a warning look, and without another word, you scrambled across the room toward his desk. He followed closely, closing the distance between you. “It’s your fault,” he muttered, his voice rough as he crossed the room too. “Look at what you're wearing. You’re practically begging to get fucked.”

“I wasn’t—” you started to protest.

“You were,” Rafe cut you off, his tone final. “You wore that dress for me, didn’t you? Or were you looking for attention from someone else?”

“I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t what?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Rafe loved the panic he saw in your eyes, the way the few thoughts you could hold in your head seemed to swirl, struggling to make sense of what was happening.

“I …I didn’t wear it for anyone else.”

“You wore it for me, then.”

“It was for you,” You spoke in a hesitant whisper. Your head tilted, and Rafe could see the uncertainty in your eyes. Still, the words sent a rush of heat through him. Rafe lifted you up by your hips, placing you on the desk, right on top of manila folders and Ward’s important paperwork. 

"Good girl, baby," he murmured, his hand finding the hem of your dress, lifting it. "Now, don’t act like you don’t want this." 

“Rafe, I’m still sore,” You said as Rafe slid your panties down your thigh.

“I’ll be quick,” Rafe assured you, “I’ve been halfway there since you walked in the dining room earlier.”

It wasn’t that Rafe didn’t understand the toll that he took on your body. He cared, he certainly didn’t want to break you, but he also knew that you could handle more than you could wrap your mind around. Maybe, he was a bit selfish and enjoyed the sight of him slowly fucking you, his huge girth sliding in and out of you, stretching you to the point of sobbing. 

He wanted you to feel empty without him. He wanted you to become so used to him that another man or even your own tiny fingers couldn’t satisfy your needs. 

“Relax,” Rafe said, watching the ways your eyes darted between his blue ones and then back down to his length, “You’re okay, darlin’.”

Rafe pushed your shoulders down until your elbows were propped up against the desk before he grabbed your legs, tilting your hips up. He spit directly against your hole before spitting into his palm, coating his hard length with his own saliva. 

He watched the way your face scrunched in pain as he started to push inside of you. Like he taught you before, you started to take deep breaths in and out, “Good girl, just like I taught you. You’re okay,” Rafe cooed as you squeezed him tight. 

Those deep breaths quickly became shallow ones as he stretched you. “I can’t, I can’t, it’s too big–” You spoke suddenly, shaking your head, “I’m sorry, please. Please, Rafe.” 

“Baby, it’s okay-”

“Please, please, please. Please. Please. Not okay. Not okay. I can’t, I can’t.”

Rafe surprised even himself when he paused. The look on your face reminded him of the time in the car, the first day you met. It was hard to watch. He’d pushed you too far, you were starting to have a panic attack. His chest tightened as he pulled back, his mind scrambling. He tucked himself back into his briefs. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Slowly, he reached for your shoulder, lifting it carefully to help you sit up. 

“Shit, we can stop, okay?” Rafe said in a voice he didn’t recognize, “Fuck, you need to breathe, Y/N.” 

He pulled you closer, letting your head rest on his chest, as you tried to control your hiccups and heavy breathing. Listening to it made his own breath feel tight in his lungs. Stroking your back, he tried to quell the storm inside of you. Rafe’s heart pounded in his chest as he held you close, the guilt gnawing at him, “Jesus …I’m sorry, baby.”

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[someonegoood]

BRUISED HEARTS ✫ jeon jungkook

CONTAINS: boxer!Jungkook x reader, fighting turned bonding, emotional vulnerability, healing together, SOULMATES AU, mention of violence, past trauma, shared pain, fluff & angst, unexpected connection, fighting against fate....

NOTE: thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it!! this work hasn’t been revised, and english isn’t my first language, so please bear with me!!!! your feedback means a lot to me! 😊THIS IS A ONE PART STORY.

my main masterlist! ❀

From the moment you’re born, your soulmate exists somewhere out there—a thread tying two lives together, invisible but unbreakable. Yet, the connection remains asleep until your eighteenth birthday. That’s the moment everything changes.

The moment the clock strikes midnight, your body becomes linked to theirs. Every ache, every wound, every sharp sting of pain—they feel it, and so do you. A scraped knee burns against your skin. A broken bone sends you crumbling under the same pain.

It’s an unspoken law of the universe: soulmates share pain, but bleeding wounds always belong to the one who truly endured them.

For some, it’s proof of an unshakable bond, a guiding force leading them to their other half. For others, it’s a cruel twist of fate—linkedto a stranger’s suffering with no way to stop it.

And for you? It starts with a split lip the day after turning eighteen, stealing the breath from your lungs.

A sharp sting on your lip, the dull ache blooming across your face. You scramble out of bed, stumbling to the mirror, fingertips ghosting over the swollen skin. There’s no explanation. No accident from the night before. No memory of falling. And yet, the pain lingers deep in your bones.

And that’s when it hits you.

Your soulmate is hurt. And you have no idea who they are.

That was a year ago.

At first, the pain was relentless. It happened again two nights later—an ache in your ribs, enough to make you suffer with every breath. Then a bruise on your knuckles a week after that. It was slow at first, little reminders that somewhere, someone was fighting battles you couldn’t see.

You tried not to think about it too much. Tried to convince yourself it wasn’t your problem. But then the injuries worsened.

One morning, you woke up with bruises scattered across your face, purple and aching. Your mother screamed when she saw you.

"What happened to you?" she demanded, rushing over with wide, frantic eyes. You blinked at her, still groggy from sleep.

"I—I don’t know."

"Don’t lie to me!" Her voice cracked as she cupped your face, fingers trembling. "Who did this to you? Did someone—did someone hurt you?"

Tears burned at the back of your throat. "No one hurt me, Mom. I swear. It just… happened."

"That’s not possible," she whispered, her hands falling to her sides. "This isn’t normal."

You swallowed hard, heart pounding. "It’s the soulmate bond."

Your mother exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Oh, sweetheart..." She pulled you into a hug, holding you tighter than she ever had before. "You need to start covering them. People will ask questions."

So you did.

From that day forward, you mastered the art of makeup. Layers of it over bruises, carefully chosen clothes to hide what foundation couldn’t. Some days, the pain was just a dull ache. Other days, it felt like your body was breaking under the weight of wounds you couldn’t see.

You had to.

Now, the pain is back. It comes in waves, occasional bruises appearing on your skin like echoes of a fight happening miles away. You thought it was over, that maybe your soulmate had finally found peace.

But the fresh aches tell you otherwise.

Jungkook’s life has always been a battlefield.

He grew up fighting, not just in the ring, but for survival. There was no softness in his world—no warm hugs, no soothing words, no gentle hands to catch him when he fell. His parents were there in surname only, too preoccupied with their own lives to notice the boy slipping through the cracks.

So he learned early: no one was coming to save him.

Pain was temporary. Weakness was unacceptable. And anger? Anger was the only thing that was his.

He was fifteen the first time he stumbled into an underground fight. It happened by accident—one of the older kids at school had mentioned a place, a ring hidden near a park on the outskirts of the city. No rules, no questions, just fists and money exchanged under flickering lights.

Jungkook hadn’t gone looking for a fight that night. But when he saw it—the raw brutality, the way blood stained the concrete floor, the way the crowd roared with every brutal hit—something inside him clicked.

For the first time, he felt something real.

The next time he went... he wasn’t just a spectator. Now, years later, fighting is the only thing that keeps him steady.

“Why do you keep doing this?” his coach, Seokjin, asks one evening after a particularly brutal match. Jungkook sits on the locker room bench, wrapping his bruised knuckles with practiced ease. His jaw is swollen, a cut on his cheekbone still fresh, but he barely flinches.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at his hands, flexing his fingers. “Because I need to.”

Seokjin sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not an answer. You have talent, Jungkook. Real talent. You could go pro. Make something of this. But instead, you’re out there throwing punches in illegal rings for what? Money? Bragging rights?”

Jungkook lets out a humorless laugh. “It’s not about money.”

“Then what is it about?” Seokjin presses, voice softer now. “Why do you need to fight like this?”

For a moment, Jungkook hesitates. Then he exhales, leaning back against the wall. “Because if I stop, I have to feel everything else.”

Seokjin doesn’t push him after that.

Two years ago, Jungkook turned eighteen, expecting something—anything. But no pain came. No sudden ache, no phantom injuries. Nothing. At first, he waited, convinced that maybe his soulmate just hadn’t been hurt yet. But days turned into weeks, then months, and still, he felt nothing.

Soulmates were supposed to share pain. If he felt nothing, then maybe soulmates weren’t real. Maybe he was alone in this world.

One night, during a rare outing with his friends, the topic comes up. They're sitting at a bar, laughter mixing with the low hum of music. Taehyung leans back in his seat, tipping his drink toward Jungkook with a knowing smirk.

"Still no sign of a soulmate?" he asks.

Jungkook scoffs, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "You know the answer."

Jimin, ever the romantic, frowns. "That’s... kind of sad, man. Doesn’t it bother you?"

"Not really," Jungkook lies, taking a slow sip. "Means I don’t have to worry about someone else’s pain."

Taehyung hums. "Or maybe it means they don’t exist at all."

Jimin shakes his head. "That’s not how it works. Everyone has a soulmate, Jungkook. You probably just haven’t—"

"I don’t believe in that crap," Jungkook cuts in, sharper than intended. "If I had one, I’d feel something. Anything. But I don’t."

The table falls silent for a moment. Then Taehyung raises his glass in a mock toast. "Well, soulmate or not, at least you can still drink with us."

Jungkook clinks his glass against Taehyung’s, forcing a smirk. But deep down, something unsettles him. A quiet thought he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

If soulmates are real, why hasn’t he felt anything?

The underground fights are ruthless. There are no rules, no referees to step in when things get too rough. It’s just fists, blood, and the roar of a crowd hungry for violence.

Jungkook thrives in it.

Tonight, he moves like a predator in the ring—sharp reflexes, calculated brutality. Every punch he throws is precise, every hit he takes with gritted teeth and unwavering focus. He’s fast and relentless. He doesn’t just fight to win, he fights to feel something. To punish himself for things he won’t say out loud.

And somewhere, you feel every single one.

Your body jerks awake with a sharp gasp, searing pain tearing through your ribs. Your vision swims, the force of a punch nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. You clutch your side, fingers pressing against skin that remains unbroken but throbs as if bruised to the bone.

You barely make it to the bathroom, bracing yourself against the counter as your legs tremble beneath you. Another hit lands, this time to the jaw, and your head snaps to the side as if an invisible fist just struck you. A choked whimper escapes your lips, swallowed by the silence of your empty apartment.

Whoever your soulmate is, they are fighting for their life.

And losing.

The next morning you tend to your aching body, carefully putting ointment over bruises that aren’t really yours. The motions are familiar, practiced. Once done, you take your dog for a walk, hoping the fresh air will clear your mind.

But the moment you get to the park, he takes off.

“Wait—Soo!” you call, but he doesn’t stop. He runs between trees, disappearing into the distance. Panic rises in your chest as you chase after him, heart pounding.

You finally catch sight of him slipping through a half-open door of an old shed. A strange chill creeps up your spine.

You hesitate before stepping inside, your voice trembling as you call, “Soo?”

The dim light reveals punching bags, weights, and a massive ring in the center of the room. The scent of sweat and metal lingers in the air. A gym—hidden, secure.

And then, a sound. A faint, almost imperceptible.

Your heart jumps. You whip around, breath shallow, eyes scanning the room. The space seems unnervingly still, the only movement coming from the dim, buzzing fluorescent lights above. But there’s nothing else. Nothing... until another sound. This one louder.

A figure steps from the shadows, taller than you expected, broad shoulders cutting through the low light like a figure from a dream. The knot in your stomach tightens, but you can’t look away.

You know who it is.

Your heart races, but not from fear—no, it's something else, something far more primal. It’s like your body recognizes him before your mind has a chance to make sense of it. A fleeting sensation of familiarity, as though you've seen him before… in a dream, or maybe in another lifetime.

His eyes catch yours—intense, almost possessive—like he’s been waiting for you too. His lips part, but he doesn't speak. His presence feels like a weight in the room, pulling the space around you taut, making everything feel infinitely closer. You swallow hard, a lump in your throat, unable to find the words, but a strange tug at the back of your mind tells you he knows you.

But how? Why does it feel like this moment was always meant to happen?

He steps closer, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick air in the room. There’s a quiet intensity to his movements, as if he's waiting for something, calculating your reaction. Your breath quickens as your pulse races in your ears, the distance between you shrinking.

"Soo?" you ask again, your voice trembling, unsure whether it's out of fear or something else entirely. You can’t quite place it, but something inside you stirs, a flutter deep in your chest, as though you’ve been waiting for him all along.

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, his gaze holds yours, unreadable, before a small, knowing grin tugs at his lips. His silence speaks volumes. There’s something in the air, a strange recognition, an unspoken connection. It feels inevitable, even if neither of you understands it.

Jungkook stands frozen, his mind a whirlwind of confusion, and something deeper—a recognition he can’t shake. He’s drawn to you, inexplicably, even though every instinct tells him to stay back.

Jungkook thinks this can’t be real.

His mind spins with a whirlwind of confusion and something deeper, a recognition he can't shake. He’s always been cautious. Always kept his walls high. After all, the world had taught him that letting anyone in just leads to pain. But here you are, standing in front of him, and there’s a familiarity in your eyes—something that speaks to him on a level he can’t even begin to understand.

Why now? Who are you?, he thinks.

His eyes follow your every movement. Every part of him wants to know you, to understand why everything about you feels so... right. But the voice in his head urges him to retreat, to protect himself from whatever this connection might bring. He can’t afford to trust anyone again—not after everything he’s lost.

But the pull is too strong.

All of a sudden, a high-pitched bark echoes through the gym, breaking the tension in the air. The sound is so unexpected, so out of place in the heavy silence, that it startles both Jungkook and you.

Jungkook jumps, muscles tensing, eyes wide. The bark throws him off balance, and in his haste to step back, he bumps into something hard. The sound of metal crashing to the ground sends a jolt of adrenaline through him.

He stumbles, trying to regain his footing, but as he does, his shoulder brushes against yours. The unexpected contact makes both of you freeze.

A sudden wave of warmth rushes through you, more intense than any shock you’ve ever felt. It’s like a spark, an undeniable connection surging between the two of you.

You flinch, your breath catching in your throat.

"Auch..." you mutter under your breath, the word slipping out instinctively, and just like that, something shifts in the air. It’s subtle, but you feel it. The pull between you and Jungkook intensifies, and for the first time, the weight of the moment settles around you, overwhelming, undeniable.

Jungkook stands still, eyes wide as he processes the surge of emotion, the inexplicable bond between you. His breath falters for a moment, the realization dawning on him.

This is what it feels like.

You and Jungkook stand there, breathless, a shared understanding passing between you. Neither of you needs to speak because you both know.

You’re soulmates.

“Soo?”

That fluffy little dog. The one that had barked, causing the sudden, chaotic moment between you and Jungkook. The dog now stands quietly at your feet, as if it, too, understands the truth, playing its part in this strange, inevitable moment.

Jungkook looks between you and your dog, his confusion turning into something deeper. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes narrow, taking in the shift in your expression. Something clicks in his mind, a strange understanding flashing in his gaze.

His gaze flickers down to the dog again, and then back to you—realizing something that had been hidden in plain sight all along.

You take a deep breath, and the words rush out before you can stop them.

“I—I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice soft but filled with genuine regret. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to intrude.” Your gaze flickers down to the dog at your feet, still looking up at you with that familiar, innocent expression. “I was just looking for Soo.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. He looks at you, his eyes softening, taking in your apology. Then, after a long moment, he steps a little closer, the distance between you still feeling palpable.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says, his voice low but firm, like he’s already decided what he’s going to say. “But don’t get this twisted. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

His words hit you like a slap. For a moment, you’re stunned into silence. You can’t breathe. You thought the connection between you was undeniable, but now, it feels like he’s put up an unscalable wall between you.

“I don’t want this… whatever this is. I don’t need anyone to complete me, and I sure as hell don’t need you or anyone else to make sense of things.”

You open your mouth, but no words come. How do you fight against a rejection like that?

Jungkook turns away, the finality in his movement clear—this conversation is over. He doesn’t look back. The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating, leaving you standing in the aftermath of a connection that never had the chance to bloom.

Jungkook leans back against the cool metal of the bar, the bottle of beer in his hand nearly empty. His friends are scattered around him, the night still young, but the mood feels different tonight. The conversation from earlier keeps replaying in his mind, echoing in his thoughts.

“SO YOU REJECTED HER?” Taehyung’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and teasing, his eyebrow arched as he takes another long sip from his bottle.

The others look between them, all clearly waiting for Jungkook's response. There’s a lightness in the air, but it feels forced, like they can’t tell if this is some sort of joke or if Jungkook is dead serious.

“I didn’t reject her,” Jungkook mutters finally, his voice rough, as if the words don’t sit well in his mouth. "I just told her the truth. She was… looking for something I don’t want."

Jimin leans forward, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “So, Jeon Jungkook doesn’t want a soulmate?” He shakes his head, laughing lightly. “That’s rich, man.”

Jungkook’s eyes flash with irritation, and for a moment, the teasing vibe shifts. It’s not fun anymore. Something darker flickers in his gaze, something that says he’s not in the mood for jokes.

“I never asked for this,” Jungkook snaps, his tone harsher than he meant. “I’m not looking for someone to complete me. I’ve got my own shit to deal with.”

“Yeah, but you could’ve been a little gentler with it,” Namjoon adds, his voice calm but firm. “You’re not the only one with baggage, you know. But she... she didn’t deserve that cold of a response.”

“Did she do something?” Taehyung asks, his tone softer now, more thoughtful. “Remember the ring. When you’re boxing... she feels it.”

“Stop,” Jungkook mutters, the frustration and guilt creeping into his voice. He doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to deal with it. His jaw tightens, and a frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“She can’t handle me,” he finally says, his voice low, almost like a confession. “No one can handle all of this. I’m not gonna drag her into my mess.”

“She's already in it, man,” Taehyung shoots back, his words cutting through the tension. “You don’t get to decide that for her. She’s already shown she’s not backing away. She’s in this whether you want her to be or not.”

Jungkook falls silent, the weight of his friends' words sinking into him like a stone. He doesn’t know how to respond. The truth stings, but it also feels impossible to ignore.

A few weeks had passed since the encounter, and the tension still lingered in the air. It wasn’t easy to shake off, and you decided it was best to avoid him and that gym altogether. The thought of crossing paths again felt unbearable, especially when everything remained so raw, unresolved.

So, you made a conscious decision to stop walking past the gym—you started taking a different route home after university, deliberately steering as far away from the gym as possible.

Meanwhile, Jungkook had thrown himself into training. The big fight was approaching, the culmination of months of grueling preparation, and he needed to be at his best. But no matter how hard he trained, no matter how many rounds he sparred or how relentlessly he hit the punching bag, his mind kept drifting back to you.

He tried to concentrate on the fight, but all he could think about was the last and the first time he saw you—the pain in your eyes, the way he had pushed you away when he should’ve reached for you.

The night of the fight finally arrived, and the gym was buzzing with energy. The crowd outside had already begun to gather, their anticipation filling the air.

In the locker room, Jungkook stood, sweat dripping from his body as he tightened his gloves. His coach gave him one last pep talk, but Jungkook wasn’t really listening. His thoughts kept wandering back to you—wondering if you were still thinking about him, wondering where you were.

The bell rang, and the fight began.

Sitting on your couch you felt an odd pull deep in your chest, a force was gently tugging at you, calling you back to the gym. You tried to ignore it, to push it aside, but the feeling only grew stronger. Something inside you told you to go to the gym, so, against your better judgment, you followed that pull.

When you arrived, the crowd was already thick with excitement. The atmosphere was electric. You pushed through the sea of bodies, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. And then, you saw him.

Jungkook in the ring. He was a force of nature—each punch landing with precision, his body flowing like a dancer, but there was a raw intensity in his movements. He wasn’t just fighting his opponent; it was as though he was fighting everything inside him—the hurt, the frustration, the things he’d been trying to bury.

And then, it hit.

The pain. Sudden and sharp, like a knife piercing your chest. You stumbled back, clutching your stomach as the world spun around you. The pressure in your chest was unbearable, each breath harder to take than the last. You wanted to ignore it, push through it, but the pain only worsened.

You gasped for air, your body trembling, and with each punch Jungkook landed in the ring, the agony seemed to ripple through you. You pressed your hand to your stomach, trying to steady yourself, but the pain wouldn’t stop. You accidentally trip over a rock and fall to the ground, hurting your ankle.

And that’s when he felt it, a particular pain in his ankle.

Jungkook’s head snapped to the side, as though something had reached him through the chaos. He searched the crowd, his gaze sweeping over the sea of people, until it landed on you. His heart skipped a beat. There you were, clutching your chest on the floor, barely able to stand. His world tilted.

Ignoring the shouts from his coach and the crowd—he leaped out of the ring, pushing through the crowd as though nothing else mattered. His pulse hammered in his ears, and all he could think about was getting to you.

The crowd around you parted as Jungkook pushed through. You felt him before you saw him, his presence like a magnet pulling you toward him. His hand steadied you, his touch warm and strong as you struggled to stay conscious.

You looked up just as he reached you, kneeling in front of you, his hands hovering around you as if he wasn’t sure what to do. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with panic, and something inside him snapped.

“I knew you were here,” he breathed, his voice rough. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

“I…” You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, the pain still gripping you. Somehow, being near him made it feel a little less suffocating.

“Stay with me,” he urged, his voice shaking with urgency. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

You couldn’t find the words. The pain still gnawed at you, relentless and all-consuming. You trembled, barely able to stay on your feet, your knees buckling.

“Hold on,” he whispered, his voice tight with panic as he scooped you into his arms. “I’ve got you.”

The crowd murmured, but it was a blur. All you could focus on was Jungkook’s heartbeat, thudding in his chest as he rushed you toward the back exit. His touch was gentle, yet desperate—his focus solely on you.

Once outside, he didn’t hesitate. He pushed open the door and called out to the driver, his voice strained with worry. “Get in the car,” he ordered. “We’re going to my place.”

You wanted to say something, to assure him that you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The pain still gripped you, leaving you numb.

“You’re gonna be alright,” Jungkook murmured, glancing over at you before turning his attention back to the road. “I’ll take care of you. We’ll figure this out.”

When you arrived at his place, he didn’t let go of you. He helped you inside, his hands gentle as he guided you to the couch. His eyes never left you as he checked your pulse, your temperature, doing everything he could to make sure you were okay.

“I’m here,” he whispered, sitting beside you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His words were the only comfort you could feel as the pain started to slowly subside, bit by bit. You didn’t know how long you would stay here, or what would happen next, but there was one thing you were certain of: he wasn’t going anywhere.

The bathroom was small, the smell of antiseptic filling the air, the light flickering overhead. Jungkook stood at the sink, his shirt off, revealing the bruises and cuts from the fight. His movements were sharp, purposeful as he cleaned the cuts on his arms, his jaw clenched against the sting.

You sat on the edge of the tub, your body still sore from the pain that had brought you here. Jungkook had insisted on helping you, leading you to the bathroom, tending to your bruises with a professionalism that made it clear he was used to this kind of care.

You winced as he applied pressure to the bruise on your side. His touch was gentle but distant, his expression unreadable. The quiet movements filled the air, but there was an unspoken tension between you.

You didn’t know what to say, or how to bridge the gap between you. This wasn’t how you imagined the night would go—here you were, two people in silence, tending to each other’s wounds. You remembered how he had carried you, how you’d felt his worry despite the coldness he tried to show.

You said your name softly, breaking the silence. “Sorry for all this… for everything. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”

“Jungkook,” he replied shortly, his voice clipped, almost dismissive. “It’s fine. Just… be careful next time.”

You nodded, feeling the sting of his coldness, but understanding. He was protecting himself. The sharpness in his tone hit harder than you expected.

“I should probably go,” you murmured, standing up slowly, mindful of the pain. “You’ve done enough. I—”

Before you could finish, his voice stopped you.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, his tone softer now but still holding that edge of distance. “It’s late. You shouldn’t be out alone.”

You didn’t argue. You couldn’t. You just nodded as he grabbed his jacket and slid it on, movements slow and deliberate. You left the bathroom in silence, walking to the car without another word.

When he pulled up outside your apartment, you hesitated. You didn’t want to make things awkward, but you felt the need to say something.

“Thanks for… helping me tonight,” you said quietly. “I didn’t expect any of this, but… I appreciate it.”

Jungkook didn’t look at you. His eyes remained fixed on the rearview mirror as he nodded. “Get some rest. Stay safe.”

You gave him a small nod, feeling the weight of his words. You hadn’t expected more, but still, something in the air felt unfinished. A moment of hesitation passed before you reached over, picking it up slowly. Jungkook’s eyes flickered to you, his face hardening immediately.

"I should probably have your number, just in case something like this happens again," you said, trying to make it sound casual, though you felt your heart racing. You didn’t want to push him, but you also didn’t want to leave things hanging.

He didn’t immediately respond, and you could feel the conflict inside him. He was clearly reluctant. But after a long pause, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before nodding curtly. "Fine," he muttered, a mix of frustration and resignation in his tone. "But don’t expect much from me."

You held his gaze for a beat, then typed in your contact information. As you handed the phone back to him, you caught a glimpse of the hesitation in his eyes.

He didn’t say anything, just took it from you without looking at your face. His fingers gripped the device a little too tightly, as if holding on to something he didn’t want to let go of.

"Good night," you said softly, opening the door.

"Yeah," Jungkook’s voice was quieter than before, and for a brief second, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes. "Get some rest."

You closed the door behind you and stood for a moment on the sidewalk, watching his car pull away. The night felt unusually quiet, almost too still, and as you walked to the entrance of your apartment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

He shook his head, trying to silence the thoughts. He knew he wasn’t supposed to care. He had made that decision a long time ago—no soulmates, no attachments.

But as he drove away, the uncertainty waved at him.

The next morning you sat on the edge of your bed, your phone pressed to your ear as you spoke with your mother. The concern in her voice was unmistakable, but you tried to keep the conversation light, not wanting to worry her too much.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, the words heavy with worry. “I saw the bruises on your arm when we last talked. Have you been getting enough rest? Are you eating?”

You glanced down at the fading bruises on your wrist, the reminder of the hectic few days that had passed. You hadn't told her about Jungkook yet—didn't want to add fuel to the fire of her concern. She’d only worry more if she knew about him.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you said, forcing your voice to sound reassuring. “I’m just a little clumsy, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Her sigh on the other end of the line was audible, but she didn’t press further. “Alright. Just take care of yourself, okay? And if you ever need me—”

“I know, Mom. I will. Love you,” you interrupted, hoping to end the conversation before she could say anything more. You needed the distraction, the escape, from everything that was weighing you down.

“Love you too,” she replied, and you could hear the concern still lingering in her tone before she hung up.

Soo followed you, tail wagging, oblivious to the storm of thoughts that were swirling in your head. You smiled weakly at the sight of him, kneeling down to pet him before you prepared to leave. “I’ll be back soon, Soo. Be good while I’m gone,” you murmured, trying to shake off the weight of the night.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. As you reached for the door to leave for your uni classes, a notification caught your eye. . You checked the screen, your stomach tightening as you saw the name that popped up.

Jungkook.

i don’t know how to make this easier for you, just stay safe

don’t get too close to me

It was cold, but there was something deeper in it, something that pulled at you despite the detachment. His words were sharp, but the underlying care was unmistakable, even if he couldn’t bring himself to show it fully.

You bit your lip, a mix of emotions washing over you. He wanted to protect you, but at the same time, he was pushing you away, keeping you at a distance. It was always the same—Jungkook’s confusion, his walls, his inability to be vulnerable.

There was no easy answer, no simple way to make sense of him, of what you were supposed to do with all of this. You ran your fingers over the edge of your desk, then typed a short reply.

i’ll be careful, but don’t push me away!!

i won’t disappear :)

You hesitated, staring at the screen for a moment, then sent it. What were you even expecting in return?

With a new sense of energy and warmth you turned to leave, Soo’s wagging tail following you out the door. As you stepped into the cool morning air, a sense of possibility filled you. Whatever this was between you and Jungkook, whatever he was trying to say, you felt a spark of hope that it wasn’t over.

The gym was nearly silent, save for the rhythmic hum of the overhead lights and the faint creak of the floorboards beneath Jungkook’s heavy steps. His fists were clenched, shoulders rigid with frustration as he stormed inside. The sting of his loss still burned in his chest, but the anger coursing through him had nothing to do with the fight itself.

Seokjin was already there, arms crossed, watching him with the kind of knowing gaze that made Jungkook’s skin itch. He didn’t need a lecture right now. He needed to hit something, to drown out the mess in his head with exhaustion.

"You lost," Seokjin said, his voice even but edged with something firm, something disappointed. "You weren’t focused. You let your emotions get in the way. You let her get in the way."

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. His pulse roared in his ears at the mention of you.

"I told you I don’t need anyone’s help," he bit out, his voice rough with frustration. "I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what to do. I’m fine on my own."

Seokjin let out a slow exhale, shaking his head. "It’s not about needing help, Jungkook. It’s about what you’re doing to yourself. You’re pushing everything away—everyone away. And for what?"

Jungkook’s chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. He hated this. Hated feeling like his insides were unraveling. Like no matter how fast he ran, the past—the pain—was always a step behind, waiting to sink its claws into him.

"You don’t get it," he muttered, shaking his head. "You don’t know what it’s like to feel like everything’s slipping through your fingers, no matter what you do."

"Then stop running," Seokjin snapped, stepping forward. "Face it. Face her. Face yourself. Because this? What you’re doing now? It’s not working."

The words hit harder than any punch Jungkook had taken in the ring. His breathing stuttered, his vision blurring at the edges as something sharp lodged itself in his throat. He turned away before Seokjin could see the cracks forming.

"I’m done," he muttered, voice tight. "I don’t need this."

"Jungkook—"

But he was already moving, shoving open the door and stepping out into the cold night air. His pulse pounded in his ears, hands still curled into fists at his sides. He didn’t know where he was going.

All he knew was that if he stayed, if he let himself feel any more than he already did—he wouldn’t be able to stop. And that terrified him more than anything.

You had just finished your last class of the day, your mind still tangled in the mess of notes and half-understood lectures. The weight of exhaustion clung to you, but it wasn’t just from studying—it was from everything. From the lingering thoughts of Jungkook, from the conversation with your mother, from the way your chest felt too tight lately.

And then you saw him.

Jungkook was walking down the street, head down, shoulders tense, his whole presence brimming with frustration. His eyes—dark and stormy—barely flickered as people passed him, lost in whatever war was raging inside him. But beneath the anger, beneath the cold detachment, you saw it.

Something broken.

He didn’t notice you at first, his mind too consumed by his own turmoil. But as you caught up with him, you called out his name softly, trying not to startle him.

"Jungkook?" Your voice was gentle, but it broke through the fog in his mind. He turned sharply, his eyes flashing with a mix of fury and sadness.

"What do you want?" His voice was harsh, sharp, like he was ready to lash out. "I’m not in the mood for any of this."

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t back down. Instead, you stepped closer, your tone steady, insistent. "You’re not going anywhere like this. You need to calm down."

"I don’t need your help," Jungkook snapped, his fists tightening at his sides. "Just leave me alone."

His jaw clenched, but before he could argue, you grabbed his wrist—not hard, not forcefully, just enough to ground him. His body was tense, radiating frustration, but he didn’t pull away. Maybe because deep down, he was too exhausted to fight anymore.

You shook your head, not willing to let him push you away. "No, Jungkook. You’re not fine. I’m not letting you do this alone. Come with me."

Before he could argue further, you guided him toward your apartment. You didn’t care about his anger, his desire to fight. You cared about the pain behind it, the way he was falling apart, and you weren’t going to let him suffer in silence.

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, thick with unspoken tension. He moved stiffly beside you, every step heavy with something neither of you were ready to name.

Once inside, you guided him to the couch. He sat reluctantly, his eyes still dark with frustration. You disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, returning with two glasses of water. He took his without a word, staring at the liquid like it held answers he’d never find.

"Why do you care?" His voice was quieter now, but the edge was still there. "You don't know me at all."

You sat down next to him, close enough for warmth but not enough to make him retreat. "You’re human, Jungkook. You’re allowed to be angry, to make mistakes. But you don’t have to go through it alone."

Something flickered in his expression—hesitation, doubt, maybe even relief. His fingers curled around the glass, but he didn’t drink. He took a deep breath, as if he was allowing himself to finally feel the weight of everything he had been pushing down.

"I don’t know what to do anymore," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel lost. And it hurts."

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned forward, placing your hand gently on his. The contact was small, but it seemed to ground him, his shoulders slumping just a little as he let the tension leave his body.

"Just be here," you said softly. "Just for tonight. Let yourself feel it. You don’t have to have all the answers."

Jungkook exhaled, his head tilting back as he closed his eyes. It felt like a weight was lifting from him, just a little. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself lean into the moment, let the anger and the frustration subside, replaced by something quieter—something softer.

"Thank you," he whispered, barely audible. "I didn’t think anyone would be here for me like this."

As the silence stretched between you, the weight of the day slowly fading, you glanced at him, feeling a quiet resolve settle in your chest. His shoulders were relaxed now, his eyes softer than you’d seen them before. You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth in your heart spreading through you.

You watched him, your resolve settling. His walls were still up, but there was a crack now, a glimpse of the person beneath all the anger and resistance.

"You're not alone, Jungkook," you said, voice soft but certain. "I’m your soulmate, anyway. No matter how much you fight it, I’m here."

His eyes snapped to yours, something shifting between you in the dim light. It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t an argument. Just the truth—unshakable, undeniable.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. But then, barely there, the corners of his lips twitched, something small, something real.

And for now, that was enough.

SIX MONTHS LATER...

Jungkook was sprawled on your couch, flipping through channels with the kind of bored impatience that made you roll your eyes. His hair was still damp from his shower, a few strands falling into his eyes, but he didn’t bother pushing them back.

You were on the floor, leaning against the coffee table, scrolling through your emails when a notification popped up. Your brows furrowed as you opened the message.

You are invited to the wedding of Kim Namjoon & Seo Yuna…

Your eyes widened. "Jungkook."

"Hm?" He didn’t look away from the TV.

"You got an invitation to Namjoon’s wedding."

That made him pause. He turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Namjoon? Hyung is getting married?"

"Yeah. And it says we’re invited." You lifted your phone, shaking it a little.

Jungkook’s jaw tensed as he sat up properly. "He invited both of us?"

"That’s what we means."

His lips pressed into a thin line. You watched as he processed the information, his fingers tapping against his knee.

"You don’t have to come," he said after a beat, voice a little too casual. "It’s not like anyone expects—"

"I want to," you interrupted, tilting your head at him. "Unless you don’t want me to go."

Jungkook hesitated, eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. A few months ago, he would’ve found a way to push you away, to make it seem like he didn’t care. But now, he was different. Softer in ways he didn’t realize.

Finally, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "It’s just… a lot. Weddings, relationships—" He stopped himself, then sighed. "But if you want to go, then we’ll go."

You smiled, setting your phone down. "Then it’s settled."

Jungkook shook his head, mumbling something under his breath, but you caught the way his lips twitched, the way his fingers absentmindedly reached for yours as if it was second nature now.

Neither of you said it out loud, but the truth hung between you like a quiet understanding.

This wasn’t just about a wedding. It was about showing up—for each other.

Jungkook had spent months resisting, convincing himself that fate was something he could outrun. That having a soulmate was a burden, not a gift. But somewhere along the way—between the quiet moments where you stood by him without expecting anything in return, between the nights where you saw the parts of him he kept hidden from the world—something shifted.

He stopped fighting it. Stopped fighting you.

It wasn’t sudden, but gradual, like ice melting under the warmth of the sun. He still wasn’t perfect—still stubborn, still rough around the edges—but the walls he’d built weren’t impenetrable anymore.

Now, when you reached for him, he didn’t pull away. When you said his name, he answered without hesitation. And when he looked at you, really looked at you, he didn’t see a mistake.

He saw home.

A few days later, both of you were seated in the venue. It was breathtaking—golden chandeliers casting a soft glow over the polished floors, tables adorned with white roses, and a string quartet playing something elegant in the background.

Jungkook had been fidgeting with the cuffs of his black suit since the moment you arrived, but he looked effortlessly handsome, the dark fabric hugging his frame in all the right places.

"You clean up well," you murmured, adjusting the slightly crooked tie around his neck.

He huffed, feigning annoyance, but you didn’t miss the way his lips twitched. "Yeah, well, you look—" His gaze flickered over you, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "Nice."

"Nice?" You raised an eyebrow. "That’s all I get?"

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but there was no real irritation behind it. His fingers ghosted over your wrist before he slipped his hand into yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Fine. You look beautiful. Happy now?"

Before you could tease him, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air as Namjoon and Yuna made their grand entrance. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Jungkook straightened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

"Do weddings always feel this… intense?" he muttered, eyeing the scene.

You grinned. "It’s just love, Jungkook. Try not to look so scared."

His jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he let you pull him toward your table, where some of his friends were already gathered.

Throughout the night, you caught glimpses of something new in him. The way his shoulders eased when you leaned into him, the way his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on the back of your hand, the way his lips twitched in amusement when you forced him onto the dance floor despite his protests.

And then, somewhere between the speeches and the first dance, he leaned in, his voice quieter, more certain than before.

"I don’t know when it happened," he murmured, eyes locked on yours. "But I stopped fighting it. Stopped fighting us."

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words settling between you.

Jungkook wasn’t running anymore.

Instead, he was here—standing beside you, hand in yours, finally accepting that maybe, just maybe, fate had been right all along.

[cherrycheolkat]

if it hasn’t been taken already.. drunk pda and wearing no underwear pretty pweaseeeeee

okay genuinely hope you like this anon ^^

♡ kat

bingo square: drunk pda + no underwear

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader

summary:  y/n decides to have fun with her very cute boyfriend when they go out for the night

genre: college au, collegestudent!mingyu, collegestudent!reader, established relationship

word count: 0.8k

rating: 18+, mdni

warnings: drinking, explicit language, smut, fingering

y/n had been busy with studying all week, therefore, she kept blowing mingyu off - not because she wanted to - she was fairly certain that no one would intentionally blow him off.

but she had to, and even if he was whiny about it, he said that he understood. she had felt bad for making him pouty, but at the same time, he was so cute when he was whiny and needy for her - it was almost worth it just for his reaction.  

she smiled to herself as she was dressing to go meet him for some much needed drinks that friday night - she had something up her sleeve to surprise him since he had been so understanding and sweet all week. besides, she was guessing that what she was planning would have him whining for her too. she grinned to herself as she left her apartment.

the bar was small and crowded. just walking in, she could feel the heat of the place crowding around her - she bit her lip, knowing it was the perfect place for what she planned. all the little dark corners - places where they couldn’t totally be seen - places where only he could see her - it was exactly what she wanted. she felt flushed just imagining him and his reaction. 

and then she saw him sitting in a corner with his friends, and she walked over to join him. she hugged him, but he was quick to pull her into his lap, kissing her softly in greeting. she smiled, pulling away slowly, licking her lips and settling into his lap. 

they ordered drinks. she sipped her first drink, but really the conversation was a bit boring for her. she was happy when her second drink arrived. by then, she wasn’t paying attention to anything or anyone besides mingyu. she made it through another drink without even leaving his lap. 

and all the time that she sat there, she didn’t discourage his hands from tracing against her thighs, even when his fingers disappeared just under the hem of her skirt. she didn’t mind his teasing. but when she leaned back to kiss him softly, she lingered there longer than she had planned. she loved how he tasted - how his lips felt - the way she could feel him getting hard. 

he barely broke the kiss. “missed you,” he whispered, smiling, his hands squeezing her waist gently. 

she smoothed his hair, “missed you too,” she pouted, leaning closer, letting her lips brush his teasingly before pressing into him fully for another, longer kiss. 

she didn’t have to pull away to know his friends were groaning and leaving them, but she really couldn’t care less. she hadn’t seen mingyu all week, except eating a few quick meals together, which wasn’t exactly sexy. 

she moved so she was facing him and straddling his lap. their kisses were more than just kisses by then - she knew they were openly making out, holding onto each other desperately as they did. she pressed closer - her chest pressed flush against his. she let her fingers catch in his hair - her fingers teasing his scalp. she had had way too much time to think of all the things she missed about him, even if it were just a week.

he did the thing she had guessed he would - she felt the careful slide of his hands from hips and down to her ass. she felt his fingers spread to hold and squeeze her, but it was when his hands slid down just a bit farther that he barely pulled away.

he gazed at her, taking her in, “are you,” he leaned close to her ear, “are you wearing panties?” his breath was so warm against her skin.

she turned, looking at him, she raised her brows and shook her head, “no.”

she watched him absorb what she had said. and when he seemed uncertain, she carefully pulled his hand where she wanted it, just between her thighs. he glanced down, hesitating for a moment, glancing to see if anyone was watching before sliding his hand under her skirt. 

“fuck,” he mumbled, his fingers tracing between her pussy lips. she smiled, watching him enjoy her.

she squeezed his shoulder when she felt his fingers press inside her, hooking to find her favorite spot. she shifted, leaning close to kiss his throat. 

she felt his lips brush her cheek, “already this wet for me, baby?” he asked, his voice soft.

she nodded, pressing closer, “i’ve been thinking about you all week - all the things we haven’t been able to do,” she moaned softly, feeling his fingers spread inside her. 

she whined softly when she felt him pull his fingers from her, “here,” he whispered. 

she turned and took his slick fingers in her mouth, licking them clean. 

he groaned watching her, “we should leave, right?”

she nodded, biting her lip. 

a/n: low key, i wanted them to be slutty

♡ kat

if you want to submit a bingo ask the newest bingo is [here] but there are still open squares from the previous two [here] and nsfw only bingo is [here]

tag list: @syluslittlecrow ☁︎ @gyuguys ☁︎ @haik-chu ☁︎ @tinyelfperson ☁︎ @lovetaroandtaemin ☁︎ @starlit-rin ☁︎ @gigglensnort ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite ☁︎

♡ if you want to be tagged in my posts, go [here] & this is my [master list] if you want to read more

[dinoandguitar]

"..Coffee?"

Idol!KwonSoonyoung x Staff!Reader

The first time Hoshi saw her, he nearly ran into a wall. It wasn’t dramatic like a slow-motion movie moment, but it sure felt like one.

She was standing near the practice room, listening intently to one of the senior staff members. Her clipboard was tucked under one arm, her head tilted slightly as she nodded along. Then she smiled, small but bright, like it came naturally to her.

Hoshi, mid-step, completely lost focus. One second, he was walking out of the practice room, and the next... BAM!

He smacked right into the doorframe.

"Hyung!" Dino yelped, catching his arm before he could stumble too hard. "Are you okay?" Hoshi barely heard him. His ears were ringing, and not just from the impact. He glanced up quickly, praying that she hadn’t seen..

She had.

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, her lips parting like she was about to ask if he was alright. Hoshi panicked. He spun on his heel and speed-walked back inside, slamming the door behind him.

Dino blinked at the now-closed door before turning to the staff members. "Uh… he's fine... I think.."

♡

Over the next few days, Hoshi became painfully aware of her presence. She wasn’t around all the time, but when she was, he turned into a full-on puppy-eager, flustered, and ridiculously obvious about his crush.

"Hyung, you're staring again," Joshua said, nudging him as they sat on the practice room floor.

"I'm not!" Hoshi hissed, even though he absolutely was.

She was across the room, checking something on her clipboard while chatting with another staff member. She looked so calm and professional, and here he was, sweating over her mere existence.

Jeonghan smirked. "You're wagging your tail."

Hoshi shot him a glare. "I do not have a tail."

"You might as well with how excited you get whenever she's near."

Hoshi groaned, dropping his head onto his knees. This was ridiculous. He was Kwon Soonyoung, SEVENTEEN’s performance leader, the energetic one, the confident one. Why was he turning into a shy mess every time she was in the same room?

♡

His crush only got worse when he actually interacted with her. One day, she was passing out water bottles after a long practice session. Hoshi was mid-conversation with Mingyu when she walked up, holding one out to him with a soft smile.

"Here, you looked like you needed this," she said.

Hoshi forgot how to speak.

He stared at the bottle. Then at her. Then back at the bottle.

"Hyung, take it," Mingyu muttered.

Hoshi finally snapped out of it, grabbing the bottle way too quickly. "Thank you!" he blurted out, his voice a little too enthusiastic. She laughed—a soft, amused sound that made his heart go haywire. "No problem," she said before moving on.

Hoshi turned to Mingyu, gripping his arm. "Mingyu-yah. Did you hear that? She laughed at something I said!"

Mingyu looked unimpressed. "She laughed because you were weird."

"Doesn't matter," Hoshi whispered, clutching the water bottle to his chest. "She laughed."

Mingyu sighed. "You're hopeless."

♡

The teasing only got worse when the other members caught on. One evening, Hoshi was lingering near the break room, psyching himself up to talk to her. "Be cool," he told himself under his breath. "Just go in, say hi, and act normal—"

The moment he stepped inside, she turned and smiled. "Oh, hey Hoshi!"

He froze.

His brain blanked.

"Uh-hi! Coffee!" he blurted out. "I mean...you’re drinking coffee. Nice. That’s… great."

She blinked. Then, to his horror, she giggled."Yeah," she said, looking amused. "Do you want some?"

"No!" Hoshi yelped, then immediately regretted it. "I mean, no, I just-I was gonna- um…"

She tilted her head, waiting. Hoshi took a deep breath. Okay, just say it.

"I was wondering if...maybe...you’d like to get coffee with me? Not like this coffee but like outside coffee. With me. Together. If you want."

A long pause.

Then, she smiled. "Are you asking me out?"

Hoshi swallowed. "Yes?"

She laughed, soft and genuine. "I’d love to."

Hoshi blinked. "Wait, really?"

"Really."

He barely managed to hold back a victorious cheer. Instead, he gave a very enthusiastic nod, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "Cool! Great! Uh, I’ll text you!" he said, practically vibrating with excitement.

As she walked away, Hoshi turned the corner and immediately collapsed against the wall. His heart was racing. His hands were shaking. His entire body felt like it was on fire.

And as he entered the practice room, he knew he was in for some good teasing by his members. And as embarrassing it will be, Hoshi didn’t even care. Because he had a date with her.

And that was all that mattered.

[h8aaz]

— facts about demonknife!reader .ᐟ

⛤ she has the inscriptions from the knife going down her spine. sam first saw it when he was bathing her, her back being turned to him so he could wash her. his fingertips immediately reached out to skim over the indented and scarred skin, completely mesmerized by it. her legs also have light handprints all over from being held so much; the sizes different depending on the hand. when her and sam have sex, he loves running his hands on her spine during doggy style, but also loves placing them on his own large prints on her legs in any other position.

⛤ she takes extra time to deep clean the boys' knives because they wouldn't clean her properly and she doesn't want the other knives to get the same treatment she did.

⛤ she's a physical touch girlie!! she loves holding hands or someone's arm, or even just latching onto their clothing. she constantly needs to invade someone's personal space to feel safe wherever she goes because she's afraid of nearly everything; i mean, did you see her when she was turned? she sobbed the whole way back to the motel. bonus points if she can do all of these with sam because she really only trusts him.

⛤ speaking of trust, it took her forever to warm up to dean. simply because he yelled at sam over their new situation when she was crying. plus, he was really standoffish with her and constantly talked about ways they could turn her back.

⛤ she never liked the names her and sam looked up because they just didn't feel right. but one day sam called her dem, explaining that it was short for demon as he had thought of names and nicknames for her for a while. although the hates the monstrosities she's named after, she accepts the shortened version fully as it sounded perfect coming from sammy's mouth. despite the new found name, dean still calls her the knife or sam's girlfriend, with castiel simply calling her 'the girl' or 'the woman' (they eventually warm up to her name over time).

⛤ she also LOVES cas because she HATES demons. it was her purpose to be against them, alright? but she loves the concept of angels, even though they're huge dicks. the two of them are the self-proclaimed #1 and #2 demon haters. plus they're always learning new things together so they're def besties.

⛤ she likes playing games on sam's laptop because she loves pressing and tapping the buttons on the keyboard.

"can you make her stop? its getting late and we have to be on the road early in the morning." dean groaned to sam from his bed.

"she likes the sound the keyboard makes." sam defended as he sat next to her at the table.

her character died and the game over screen popped up. "no! one more round, please, sammy? just one!" she begged with puppy-dog eyes, giving sam a run for his money with how much cuter they were than his, which is extremely tough to top.

he couldn't help but smile at her. "okay, just one more but then we gotta go to bed, alright?"

she nodded her head frantically, practically jumping in her seat to restart the level.

"try and make it quick, honey. dean's upset." he whispered into her ear before kissing her temple, dean groaning again in the background at the click clack of the keyboard, covering his head with pillows to drown out the sound.

one (sam) could argue that she just loves the sound, but it's really the anger that fills dean up when she annoys him.

⛤ sam, unfortunately, had to talk her into wearing a bra as she began to wear tight clothing after developing her own style—which consisted of his old clothes being fitted to her body. he curses himself for the choice nearly everyday but it makes seeing her chest when they're alone all the more special.

⛤ hates being compared to ruby and is deathly afraid of somehow turning out like her. she used to love ruby endlessly until she was given to sam by her, becoming attached to him because of it. sam has to remind her that she's not ruby and never will be because she couldn't be more different from her. what happened between him and ruby is nothing compared to what he and demonknife!reader have now, he loves her so much and will always remind her of that (while they trash talk ruby).

⛤ has bad anger issues when it comes to hunts with demons involved. she gets this pure, white-hot rage in her veins when she sees one. when she attacks, it's the most vicious thing the winchesters have ever seen, and they've seen plenty in their line of work. she can easily punch through a demon's vessel when her vision gets clouded by her hatred, lights flashing when she kills the black-eyed creatures. afterwards, she'll go back to being the sweetest little thing ever. her innocent looks and soft spoken voice contradicting the amount of blood completely covering her, sticking to her skin and clothing like she stepped into a giant blood bath.

GABS YAPS .ᐟ . . . handprints concept is from @sunsbaby's gun!reader!! i hope y'all liked this + lmk what yall think would be other fun facts about her!! likes, comments, + reblogs are very appreciated!!

tags!: @j2archives @dulcescorderitas @deansbeer @bejeweledinterludes @soldiersgirl @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @immodestly-marina @daylighted @titsout4jackles

dem's masterlist!

dividers were made by me!!

[tommiib]

The Mistake We Keep Making ~ P.SH

warnings: angst, suggestive, depressed reader, infidelity, cheating, self hatred, toxic hwa.

wc: 1.5k

Just a little drabble.. I hope you enjoy!

How did you end up here? Naked. Vulnerable. Sticky.

It’s a tale you’re all too familiar with, a story that should have ended long ago—one that should have never begun. You know it’s wrong, but you can’t help it. Not when he smiles at you like you’ve made his day, not when he brings you lunch during your grueling study sessions, not when he’s between your legs, devouring you like you’re his last meal, whispering how beautiful you are, how sweet you taste, how good you feel. Not when he looks up at you with hooded eyes, bottom lip quivering as he spills into you. Not when you collapse into each other, bodies tangled, drowning in a high you were never meant to share.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be with him.

You both knew it.

--------

“Y/N.”

Your name pulls you back, snapping you out of your daze. You’ve been zoning out more lately—a side effect of exhaustion, of self-inflicted chaos. The weight of your last year in university, the pressures of grad school applications, a demanding internship, moving out of your old apartment before the lease expires. You’re barely holding it together, and maybe that’s why you keep making the same mistakes. Why you keep letting him in.

“Huh—oh, yes?” you blink, refocusing on Lara, her golden nose ring glinting under the soft apartment lighting. Gorgeous as ever, her warm brown skin flawless, her long red curls framing a face too symmetrical to be real.

“You’re scaring me,” she says, eyes scanning you with concern. “You keep zoning out. I think you have too much on your plate.”

She knows you too well. She always has. You’re a chronic overachiever, running yourself into the ground without ever leaving space to breathe. The difference is, Lara has balance. She’s just as busy—final year, business major, yet somehow her life is seamless. Perfect boyfriend, a family with money, an apartment that isn’t suffocating under the weight of bad decisions.

Meanwhile, you trick yourself into thinking that 5am gym sessions compensate for the disorder of your life, that productivity masks your wreckage. You can’t even remember a time when you weren’t a mess.

“I think so too,” you admit, sighing. “But I’m too deep in. I worked so hard for that internship, I can’t screw it up now. Maybe once I finish moving, things will settle.” You take a sip of your hot chocolate, hoping the warmth will calm your nerves.

“I literally offered to hire movers for you.”

“Okay, but who’s going to unpack all my shit?”

“I said I’d help you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t like people touching my things.”

Lara scoffs. “Why do you make things so hard for yourself?”

You don’t know. You really don’t. But it’s a pattern—one you can’t seem to break.

“You know I like doing things myself, Lara. If I can’t handle it alone, then what’s the point?” It’s a mindset etched into your bones.

She exhales sharply, rolling her eyes. “I don’t understand you.”

“Me neither.” You chuckle, but it’s hollow.

She convinces you to let her help with the move, and though you resist, you’re relieved. You’re grateful to have her, even if a small, ugly part of you resents how effortlessly put-together she is.

You’ve known Lara since third grade, since you found her beating up the class bully, Seth. You were inseparable after that. Her 4’9, 60-pound eight-year-old self had taken on the biggest guy in the grade and won. She was fearless, independent, kind—all the things you pretend to be. Maybe that’s why you push away her help. Accepting it feels like pity. It’s cruel to feel that way about your best friend, but you can’t help it.

She’s perfect without trying. And you…

You’re crying. Alone. In your car. In the parking garage of Lara’s apartment.

Pathetic.

You slam your forehead against the steering wheel, frustration bubbling up in your throat. You’re so sick of crying. Sick of feeling. Sick of yourself. The weight of everything—the past, the present, the future—presses down on your chest, suffocating.

Your phone vibrates.

A name you should’ve erased long ago lights up your screen.

Hwa: I want to see you.

You exhale sharply, fingers tightening around your phone. He always seems to find you when you’re at your lowest. As if he has a sixth sense for your weakness. But the truth is, you wouldn’t have said no even if he’d texted at any other time.

You: I need you, Hwa.

And that’s the worst part.

Because it’s not just loneliness. It’s not just sex. It’s something much darker, much deeper. A sickness rooted in your bones, in your mind, in the way you let yourself believe that this—this—is the only way you can feel anything at all.

Maybe that’s why you always end up in his bed.

Even though you know that’s not where you’re supposed to be.

-------

Seonghwa’s fingers trace the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward his. The warmth of his touch sends a slow burn through your veins, igniting something reckless inside you.

“Angel,” he murmurs, voice smooth, coaxing. “Look at me.”

You do, blinking up at him from where you rest in his lap, curled into him on the couch. He smells like cedarwood and sin, his presence intoxicating. The movie playing on the screen is long forgotten, drowned out by the steady drum of your pulse.

It’s always the same routine—he comes over, you eat, you talk, you fuck. Repeat. Some nights feel different. Some nights, he lingers. Holds you a little longer. Whispers things in the dark that make your chest ache. Tonight is one of those nights.

His wife and daughter are away for the weekend, visiting family. He couldn’t go because of work.

You don’t know who you hate more. Him. His wife. Or yourself.

You hum softly, lashes fluttering as you meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your lower lip, eyes darkening.

“You’re so quiet tonight,” he muses. “What’s on your mind?”

Everything. Nothing. You.

Instead of answering, you shift in his lap, pressing your thighs together. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed. His hand tightens on your jaw, the other gripping your waist. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, eyes locked onto yours, heavy with intent.

He leans in, breath warm against your skin.

“Tell me what you need.”

You swallow, heart hammering. You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t. But your body betrays you, melting into him, chasing his warmth.

You whisper the words you always do, the ones that keep you bound to him in this cycle of ruin.

“You.”

Without hesitation, Hwa leans down, his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that should not belong to you. It is slow, deliberate—loving. The kind of kiss a man gives his wife, the kind of kiss a man should give his wife. And yet, here he is, pressing that devotion into you, stealing what was never yours to have.

"Hwa," you breathe between his kisses, your voice barely a whisper, more of a plea than a protest. 

"Hm?" He hums, lost in you, unaware—or perhaps too aware—of how he unravels you piece by piece. 

"You're so gentle tonight," you murmur, tilting your head to grant him access, surrendering before you can think twice. His lips trail down your jaw, onto the delicate skin of your neck, his breath warm against your pulse. 

"I finally have as much time with you as I want," he says, each word pressing into you like a brand. "I'm going to take my time. Savor you. Every part of you."

The words hit deep, sinking into the hollow spaces you pretend don’t exist. He wants to savor you. To be with you. To consume you slowly, as if you are something precious, something worth lingering over. But are you? Is this self-destruction or indulgence? Is this a wound or a reward?

"I missed you so much, angel. Your smell, your face, your taste. Always so pretty for me. You know that?" 

Here he goes again, whispering the words he knows will break you apart, dissolving the fragile pieces of your restraint. He knows you too well. Maybe that’s why he chose you. He knew you were empty, a void waiting to be filled, so he poured himself into you—made you whole in the only way he knew how. Physical love, fleeting love, the kind that fades with the morning light. Because there’s no way he could truly love you, right?

Hwa strips away his shirt, then yours, discarding them like the last remnants of reason. His hands are firm yet reverent as he lifts you, carrying you toward your empty, half-packed room. He stumbles over a box, nearly losing balance, and you let out a quiet laugh. 

He silences you with a kiss, deep and claiming, before laying you tenderly onto the mattress. 

Tonight, you are his. 

Tonight, he is yours. 

And when the morning comes, reality will take him back. 

But for now—for now, he lingers.

[sheepispink]

hi bb, this is incredibly self-indulgent, but I have a very big idea for ur Ghost and his Sergeant. I'm terrified of the ocean so ofc I need her to be nervous over this mission that's by the coast. she's never said anything bc it's never been necessary, but she can't hide her nervousness from Ghost tho he doesn't pressure her to say anything for now. so when they're done w the mission, they all decide they'll take the next day off, and it's a given they'll go to the beach, right. I need her to be nervous but she's like, chill, staying away from the ocean, until the guys lift her up and she's like rolling her eyes until she realizes they're taking her to the ocean w quick steps, and suddenly she's SCREAMING bloody murder, and Ghost gets his head out of his ass (bc he was buying idk ice cream or a drink idk), and runs over when the guys set her down on the sand, trembling and tearing up, unable to stop herself from being weak and AHHHHHH ur writing would make this cuddle session so fucking GOOD

UR MIND IS LITERALLY AMAZING BECAUSE THIS?? THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA

anyway, as promised, plenty of fluff, plenty of comfort, very yummy story (i hope)

enjoy!!!!!

WC: 4.1k… (😧)

————-

Missions tended to blend into each other when a soldier got too comfortable—an autopilot you were happy to live with for a long time. Though, that was before you were promoted to a Sergeant which still felt like yesterday no matter how long ago it had been. You had soon learned that no day would ever be the same, especially after you were properly taken into Lieutenant Ghost’s unit, rather than the occasional team-ups. It was a big change that’s for sure; it’s not the difficulty, but rather having to prove your worth to a whole new unit. At least your old unit you were pretty much leading; this was like starting from the bottom again, in a way. It shouldn’t prove to be too hard, considering your reputation was holding up nicely.

However, you did have a small weakness; everyone did though this was one that you definitely didn’t want anyone else to be aware of any time soon. So, when the news of another mission came around, you were positive it was something you could handle. Until the news came that you’d travel by ship, having to stay on it for at least two weeks. It’s not even like you had time to process the news, bundled into a truck as you travelled down to the coast. You’d be travelling far, tracking down some bombs that are being transported on a number of different cargo ships travelling across the Atlantic ocean. More importantly was figuring out if they were actually active bombs or rather just sitting ducks–either way, it was something that needed to be dealt with immediately. Considering you had completed a course in demolitions, of course you were immediately necessary for this, so there wasnt even any backing out now. Thankfully, there was a chance you wouldn’t even have to cross over the murky waters, safe on the ship instead. Still, there was no guarantee that nothing couldn’t go wrong.

Ghost wasn’t stupid, he could clearly see just how hunched your shoulders were in every conversation, no matter where you were around the ship. He sees your small flinches everytime a small wave slightly shifts the floor beneath your feet, or the larger ones that spray onto the deck whilst you’re surveying the surroundings. Not even you can hide the quick darts of your eyes each time a small rumble of thunder sounds out overhead nor the teeth marks in your lips when you look out the window for a little too long. One thing that he couldn't possibly ignore, was the widening of your eyes and the anxious tap of your foot as you slowly filed out of the briefing the day before you departed. The only question was to confront you or not. After all, everyone has a weakness and yours may not even be that serious to compromise the mission. It seemed on the same level as getting mad at someone for being woken from a bad dream, or at least he didn't want to embarrass you by possibly blowing it out of proportion.

He was right for the most part, and you had completed the mission as expected– even if your heart was practically pumping out of your chest when you had to cross to the cargo ship and assess the crates for any trace of explosives. Since it was growing closer to summer, he figures the unit may as well stop over by the beach that’s only a one hour drive from the port. Your fellow teammates are excited of course, and so are you, happy to be on ground again even if the ocean will be metres away; anything was better than hovering above it though. As soon as you arrive, a few of the guys drag you along to a local shop, all of you filtering through the aisles to find the best floaties and water guns available.

Ghost leans against the car with his arms crossed over his chest, tapping his foot like a father with his rowdy kids. So since you all act like children, he counts down from ten, watching you and the others scurry and scramble into the seats of the cars. It’s almost laughable at how you all look, pool noodles around two soldier’s waists, water guns gripped in one of the other’s hands and wait– who put a bucket and spade in the boot?

Free for all, except this isn’t the battlefield, no it’s a damn beach and once your feet touch the warm sand, all of you are dispersing into different directions. Ghost looks around, trying to figure out where everyone went in the five seconds he turned to grab the cooler bag, only to see you lounging on a sunbed. He has to admit, he was curious as to how you’d navigate a situation like this with your clear fear. But now he can only scold himself as he slowly approaches you, your head turning before you beckon him over with a wide grin. You’re a trained soldier, you’ll be perfectly fine.. right?

He drops his duffel bag down beside you, getting comfortable on the sunbed as the others run along the beach like bumbling fools. Accidentally he must’ve let out a scoff because you laugh, turning to look at him as his brows unintentionally furrow. “What? They’re runnin’ around like they’re six.” He says gruffly, trying to get comfortable on the small and flimsy sunbed but failing when he realises both his legs barely fit.

“You’re just boring, skullface.” You know he hates that stupid nickname, but it just motivates to use it all the more. Still, his eyes are more focused on the nervous tap of your fingers against your leg, your jaw slightly clenched as you look out at the soldiers running around near the water.

“Oh? I don't see you making sandcastles.. or splashin’ around either.” He watches you freeze at his last words, his eyebrows slighlty beginning to furrow in deep concern. You were so far from the water, practically at the top of the beach but you still looked agitated, like you were just managing to glue it all together.

”Hmph, I'm relaxing before I beat all of you in snooker tonight.” He highly doubts that’s even slightly possible, but you’re quite adamant on the former as you stretch out and get ready fro your midday nap. Of course, how could he forget your daily necessity? Regardless of that, he sticks firmly by your side, satisfied that you werent so nervous that you wouldn't be able to nap peacefully— or maybe that was because he’d scare off anyone in a 5 mile radius just with that mask alone. He settles on watching the waves lap until he gets bored enough to aimlessly scroll on his phone, unable to find anything to captivate his attention long enough. Damnit, you were rubbing off on him. After stealing your book for a bit, the heat of the sun finally sets on his nerves and he heads towards the small bar, looking for a cool drink. Just before he leaves though, he adjusts the umbrella above where you lay, a little worried that you’d overheat in your sleep but your head feels fairly cool against his hands, for now at least.

Footsteps, they’re soft in your ears muffled by rocks that are kicked. There’s small snickers too, coming from different directions and no matter where you try and run to chase one, they always appear right behind you again.

Splashing, it’s colder now, a breeze washing over your body and making you shiver.

Strain, your arms feel tight, as do your legs, like you’re being stretched like those stupid toys that were always advertised but you never actually got.

“Is she up yet?” A voice says, so close yet so far.

“Nah, still out.” Accompanied by laughter.

A splash of water on your face has you attempting to sit up only to fail immediately, your wrists locked in a tight hold, ankles kicking restlessly. “What? Who—?” Your head turns frantically, confused and instinctively wanting nothing more but to be free.

“Chill out, we’re just giving you a little diving lesson.” The soldier who you’d giggle with on patrol holds your legs, laughing at your shocked face. As you look around, you realise the fellow soldiers you’ve shared meals with for two weeks have kidnapped you from your napping spot, carrying you somewhere.

It’s fine, they’re your friends, they wont hurt you.

“Hey! I was sleeping very peacefully y’know.” You huff, playfully though still half awake, rolling your eyes as you slacken your protests.

”Yeah, drooling too.” The one holding your wrists laughs as the one walking alongside them pinches your cheeks. Damnit, they’re so damn annoying all the time arent they? Ghost’s right, they’re like little kids with the way they ran straight into the ocean—

Ocean?

Your head snaps to the side, managing to strain your neck only to see that the one holding your legs has already stepped towards the shore, water now splashing gently onto the sand beneath you. “Hey— wait, where are you taking me?” You’re thrashing around now, panic bubbling in your throat as your nails press into the soldier’s hand, scrambling for them to let go. “Oh come on, just a small splash.”

You hate their laughter, you hate this, you hate having to watch the waves rise over his foot as they carry you in, your heart thumping louder with each second. “Let me go!”

They don't listen— why wont they listen?

The water is up to his ankles, too high for your liking and you’re not scared anymore— you’re fearing the worst. Images flash through your mind, the horrible splashing of their steps louder than the pounding in your head.

You kick, wriggle, squirm, anything and it’s useless— why is it so useless?

Their steps are making droplets splash on you, the water is growing higher, ready to consume and you’re cold, too cold even with the sun burning through you. Cold with soaked cheeks.

Ghost hears the screams first, so high it almost sends him into a frenzy only nightmares have brought him crumbling to. He doesn't think, spilling the can of coke without a second thought as he runs over, sand kicking up with each heavy step of his stupid army boots he wears all the time. The crowd of soldiers are shoved to the side by his hands, carving a path directly to you who now sits in the sand right by the shore, trembling so harshly as you pull your knees to your chest, albeit with great struggle. “Woah, woah, you’re okay— you’re not wet. See? Sand, look you’re on the sand.” But you’re too far gone, your hair falling over your face as you hunch over, hands grasping at nothing but the air. Your face is starting to grow wet from the silent tears,trickling down your cheeks and kissing your legs, the wet feeling making you fear the worst has happened.

“What the hell are you all staring at?” His Lieutenant's voice comes back like it never left, the soldiers standing to attention just as fast and scrambling away before they feel the wrath of the man before them.

You’re trying your best to shovel it all in, all the fears but it’s near impossible, not when you can still hear the splashing, not when you can hear the laughter of the kids down the beach. Not here.

“Up we get, come on.” He places his hand beneath your arms and hoists you up to stand, one hand slipping behind your back to rub up and down, trying to get you to your senses. “You’re all dry, okay? Nothing happened, you’re alright.” He’s trying to keep his voice as calm as he can for you but it’s near impossible when you’re looking like that before him, like a person whose nearly missed death. Dammit, you didnt even look this bad when you were shot in the leg, and that was a pool of blood to say the least.

He leads you away from the shore, bringing you to a small cobbled footpath away from all the cafe’s, loud icecream vans and children screaming about needing to pee. His hand continues to rub slow circles, continuously soothing your trembles as he reminds you to breathe in and out. Only when everyone was out of sight did he pick you up properly, hoisting your legs to wrap around his middle as one hand pushed your face into his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you into the car, okay?” Sure he should’ve done that way earlier, clearly by the way your hands were shaking like crazy. But if he knows anything about you, he definitely knows you don't want to make a scene. Being seen as weak is practically the worst thing for you, not that he thought what happened made you weak, but he already knew what you’d be saying if he had swooped you up right then and there in front of everyone.

“Ghost— i..” You begin to sniffle out but he shakes his head, firmly patting your back in confirmation. “Nope. Quiet— don't wanna hear it.” He carries you further down the road, turning into the empty parking lot near a small block of houses. Finally he reaches the car, windows tinted to hide you as he opens the door with one hand, a low groan escaping him before he finally settles you in the backseat. Going around to the boot, he opens it quickly, grabbing a spare towel he brought and rummaging through a bag that was supposed to be for the team’s silly movie night later. Not that he’d participate, but he felt giving them some snacks would be a good mission well done.

Your eyes are locked onto your knees, refusing to look anywhere and your face has dried up, slightly red from how harshly you had rubbed at your eyes. He settles in beside you, about to offer you a drink when you’re clenching the seats, eyes already tearing up once more.

“It’s fine— really, i just- I was just a little shaken, they didn't mean it, I wasn’t properly awake yet and it startled me. ” You ramble between breaths, unable to find an excuse to rebuild your dignity in time but he just lets out a long breath, anger clearly holding back. A soft towel is draped around you, covering your upper half entirely as he folds it over your front.

“You dont need to explain. It’s fine— i dont like the damn beach either.” He mumbles out, not sure how else to express the fury he feels that you had to feel that terrified, more towards himself for leaving you alone when he knew you were uneasy. All he can do for now is place an arm around your shoulders as you continue to quietly sniffle and tremble at the shock and horror you felt in the past ten minutes. You were clearly uncomfortable too, and how badly he wanted to tell you that he didn't care if a colour terrified you, nor a tiny butterfly; he just wanted you, as with the few he really cares about, to be comfortable and happy. Never should someone have to face their fears like that, he knows what that can do to a person. But he can't word it properly, can't express how you’re the strongest he knows and the smartest and every other good adjective in the damn dictionary because you are that. And he refuses for you to believe otherwise just because the majority aren't scared of the same things you are.

Your nose presses into the sleeves of your shirt, eyes scrunched tight as you try to will the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” It’s stern, too harsh, but he doesn't know what else to do, just wanting to wipe that miserable look on your face. “There’s nothing to apologise for.. Do you need me to leave?” He asks, suddenly wondering if you’d calm down quicker if he just left you alone. Of course you would, who would want this stiff man rubbing their back while crappily convincing them that they’re not drowning and just got a scare from a stupid idiotic prank? He could at least speak a bit more, reassure you that whatever you choose is fine but nothing comes to his mouth. You shake your head thankfully, refusing to let him leave you alone.

“Are you annoyed with me?” Your voice is quiet, so quiet, and he hates that you feel this small. You should be smiling and having fun like everyone else, not tearing up infront of your lieutenant who you just barely felt comfortable around— or well, he thought that was the case.

“Never.” He says gruffly and he’s caught off guard when you hug him tightly, one that has him stuttering to breathe for a moment. Though his shock is quickly broken when your sniffles pick up, quiet sobs hitting his chest head on. He wants to complain, beg you to stop crying because not even he can bear to see you like this. But he knows whilst it pains him, you need to let it out for all the weeks you’ve been terrified for and stayed strong. His arms wrap around you just as tight, his chin resting above your head as he feels his shirt wetten by the second.

“You’re stronger than me.” He murmurs quietly, one hand gently rubbing your shoulder as he just sits there, letting you take whatever ounce of comfort you somehow receive from him. “You could’ve given up long ago but you didn't. How could I be mad at someone who's worked so hard to keep the rest of us safe even when they didnt feel safe themself?”

Oops. He might’ve made you cry a lot harder with that one, and his eyes widening show his momentary panic as he tries to soothe you again, tucking you as close as possible.

You settle a while later, pulling away just enough to wipe your reddened eyes. His eyes are softened as he looks down at you, partially glad he doesn't have to burn alive in the sun anymore and can just spend time with you in this car.. though it’s warming up pretty quickly. You seem to have the same thoughts as him because you look up, unable to stop a little smile crawling onto your lips. The sight is bright, even the tears in your eyes making them sparkle more than usual. “Why’re you looking at me like that?” He asks, hoping you’d keep doing that a little longer.

“You’re sweating like crazy..” You’re half tempted to snicker, but it comes out more like a sniffle and he just lets out a breathless sigh, rolling his eyes as he squashes your cheeks. “I do all this and that’s what you say? You’re a minx, yknow that?”

Well, he supposes it is your day off, and he’s restless as it is anyway. So, he pretends to huff at you, even if you see past him instantly, and slides out the seat beside you to get into the driver's seat. You follow, climbing into the passenger seat and he straps you in before you can even try. He rolls down the windows after he starts driving through the town, letting the summer air refresh you all while he’d occasionally look over every time he got caught in a little traffic. . But you looked like you needed a moment to gather your thoughts and yourself, so he’d give you that, for now at least.

He takes you to the nearest mall, hunting down one of those ice cream shops, but not something basic, no, that’s just boring. “Amorino?” Your voice is muffled by the skull mask he reluctantly let you borrow— but you looked uncomfortable walking around with the tear stains still on your cheeks, so he relented quickly.

“Pick your flavours.” You get your two favourites, picking them both until he urges you to pick another, not that you can decide. “Can't you just pick your favourite for me?” That’s how you end up with a cone in your hand, a pretty flower shaped ice cream right on top with each of your flavours curved into petals. He sips his milkshake, watching as you stare in complete awe as you both walk through the mall. “How— what? This is sick, Ghost!”

“If you keep staring at it, it’ll melt before you even try it.” He watches your eyes go wide, quickly licking up the sides to catch any melting parts before instantly grinning at the overwhelming sweetness. “This is like— top tier!” Though he does end up facepalming when you grip his sleeve tightly, groaning about a brain freeze.

He lets you try out the crappy claw machine games, and then even tries on one Hawaiian shirt all while you’re giggling so hard you almost trip over. He has to hold your wrist after that, but you don't complain, using it as an opportunity to drag him wherever you want, and he follows.

It’s almost seven pm, and he takes you back to the hotel since you and the team planned to get dinner. He still had to have a virtual briefing with Price, so you would be on your own for this one. They’re waiting for you in the lobby, the three culprits from before standing anxiously. “I’ll be in the car, on the phone to Price and the others.” It’s a silent offer, giving you a chance at any time to return to where he is and sit in the back if you need to get away for whatever reason. He’d prefer to be beside you, but at least this gives you a safe way out. “Alright, thanks. I’ll head in now— just make sure you grab something to eat too? Okay?” You give him a smile, before you awkwardly step inside the hotel, approaching the others. Ghost’s hands tense, fists clenching as he watches for any sign of the idiots acting up again. Thankfully, they learnt their lesson and they immediately apologise to you, frowns on all their faces before lighting up when you extend your forgiveness to them. You were scared they’d laugh at you, but Ghost knew that they saw you like a little sister— even if they were absolute idiots sometimes. He decides to leave you after watching you leave the hotel with them, heading for a restaurant down the street as you link arms with a female soldier you know, grinning.

It’s late when he hears a soft rap at the hotel room door, confused at who could possibly knock at this hour. “It’s me, Lt.” Werent you supposed to be watching movies with the others?

“Come in.”

You open the door with the keycard he gave you earlier, dressed in your pajamas and with a bowl of popcorn in your hand. Quietly you walk over to where he lays on the bed, settling on the other side as you place the bowl between the two of you. This is how it goes for the next twenty minutes or so, you scrolling through your phone and watching stupid videos as you nibble on the popcorn all while he continues to read his book, occasionally grabbing a piece of popcorn just to keep you happy. It only ends when he catches you yawning from the corner of his eye, one, twice and thrice. “You should get some rest. You’ve had a long day.” He hums, flicking to the next page as he continues to read but the words aren't really going to his head in the slightest, his mind fixated on you.

“Hm.. okay.” You sigh, before placing your phone onto the bedside table and tucking yourself beneath his blankets, now watching him from your

position smushed against his pillow.

“You have your own bed, Sergeant.” He states, raising a brow but he’s particularly careful not to lower nor raise his voice, keeping it central as he looks at you and closes his book.

“Hey, you said I was welcome if it was an emergency.”

He did say that, perhaps a long, long time ago when you first came bundling into his life before he even knew you that well. Besides, it’s not like he planned to actually kick you out. So for now he just lets out an empty scoff, goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth before turning the lights off by the switch. The room is shrouded by darkness and you look around, wondering where he went, when two arms wrap around your front, bringing you forward against his chest. “Don’t make me regret this.” He says gruffly, but you know he doesn't care all that much, and he knows that your playful facade is trying to hide the trembles that still linger in your hands when you hear the ocean lap outside your room’s window. Tonight, he’s holding you tight and never letting you go; he’d be found dead before he ever lets anything snatch you, whether that be the ocean, someone, or even fear itself.

��——

COD masterlist

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

AEGON RAILING HIS LITTLE SISTER OUT OF RAGE 😩💅

uh...y-yeah...*cough*

Summary: Aegon's wife decides to play a little game, knowing fully well what the consequences will be.

Warnings: Targcest (brother-sister incest), jealousy, toxic relationships, SMUT (MINORS DNI), slapping, choking, rough oral (m!receiving), lots of dirty talk, use of "my king," degradation, breath play, dacryphilia, and breeding kink

word count || 3.2k🤙🏻

Aegon scowled as he watched his bastard nephew, Jace, offer his hand to you, his dear sister-wife. He almost widened his eyes in shock when you actually took it.

It had been a relatively nice night, considering the whole family was packed together in one room. When the late Vaemond Velaryon called into question prince Lucerys’ claim to the Driftwood throne, his elder sister and supposed heir to the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra, and the rest of her brood swiftly sailed back to King’s Landing from Dragonstone to plead to let the bastard remain heir, to claim what was never his in the first place. Even a blind man could see he wasn’t the spawn of Ser Laenor, same with Jacaerys; the Strong bastards they were called, even if it was a quite ironic insult considering how much weaker they were than Aemond and himself. 

And now, that mockery of a bastard heir was asking to dance with Aegon’s wife.

Aegon’s eyes flitted to his brother’s, both looking to each other in slight shock and offence. What are you going to do about it, Aemond’s gaze seemed to ask silently. It’s not as though Aegon could separate the bastard’s head from his shoulders, not with the whole family there watching. Oh, Aegon wanted to though. He wanted to cut his nephew down for even daring to set a single glance on his precious sister. 

What was worse, though, you seemed to enjoy it.

A marriage to your brother, Aegon, wasn’t the worst arrangement in the world, and that was a shock to yourself as well. You were the youngest of Alicent's children, and you were sure that your mother would have your elder brother marry Helaena. In hindsight, you were relieved it wasn’t her, she was too soft, too gentle, and much too innocent for the likes of Aegon. You might’ve been the youngest, but you could hold your own, especially against Aegon.

At first, Aegon wasn’t the kindest to you, he never was. You were the baby, and your mother treated you the best and him the worst. There was always a sort of resentment he held for you, whether he liked to admit it or not, and he often took out his frustrations on you, even as a child. You often heard stories from your other brothers how Aegon would try to harm you as an infant, either accidentally or on purpose, from leaving you unattended when it was his job to look after you at that moment to trying to feed you to his dragon, Sunfyre. It amused you how petty this man could be. He did not want to marry you, he wanted to continue whoring about on the Streets of Silk, not consummate his wedding to you in front of a group of people to make sure his cock was inside you.

You and Aegon often fought, you both often found even the smallest things to fight about just to yell at each other. It was therapeutic, in a way. You would scream at each other, so loud it often woke the whole royal apartments; then you and Aegon would fuck. It was never loving, never romantic; it was purely feral, primal, each of you battered and bruised by the end of the night. When he first deflowered you, you didn’t think you’d like it that much, especially not with him. You were shocked to see how much Aegon actually knew what he was doing, you supposed spending his whole life on the Streets of Silk allowed him to learn some things. 

There came a point in time when Aegon started to feel a bit more protective of you. As a child, he did hate you for a time, but he grew up and matured…well, in some ways. The reasons he hated you started to not make sense to him, so he simply stopped. You were his sister, his wife, and the future mother of his children and possible heirs to the Iron Throne. He grew to love you, but that didn’t mean he would be kind to you all the time, Aegon was still Aegon. But gods, you had him by his balls, and in turn, he often made love to you rather than just fuck you.

So now, you often found ways to make him so mad he fucked you the way you wanted, how things were before. Aegon often went too far in his protectiveness, to the point of obsession. He needed you all to himself, and you knew that. With the little family reunion, you knew the perfect way to get under Aegon’s skin.

You didn’t necessarily hate your nephews, but you didn’t mind throwing them under the bus for your own enjoyment. Jacaerys was a sweet boy, always on your heels as a girl, trying to woo you in hopes your mothers would betroth you to lessen the gap that was between your family, always giving you flowers he found in the gardens and stealing sweets from the kitchens to surprise you with a makeshift picnic. It was nice, but you were never interested, you were more interested in the sweets he brought you to be honest, and the flowers you’d always give to your maids instead. Now, he was a man grown, and quite handsome and you figured you wouldn’t be disgusted if you had in fact married him; and from the looks he kept giving you, it seemed his little crush didn’t lessen a bit, even though he was now betrothed himself.

You hid your smirk by sipping on your wine, the alcohol making you bolder than you normally would be in public. You smiled sweetly at Jace, and he took that as a sign to ask you for a dance.

You discreetly eyed Aegon, satisfied to see his sour expression as you took Jace’s palm in yours, allowing him to help you up from your seat and bringing you to the open floor, promptly taking your first steps into a comfortable dance. You held Jace by his shoulder, your other hand in his, spinning each other around as the music flowed. He was actually a decent dance partner, a content smile decorating your face, but only widened when you saw Aegon scowling from the corner of your eye.

“Still only using me for your own schemes, eh?” Jacaerys broke the silence between you, catching you by surprise. “It seems not much has changed since we were little.”

You laughed through your nose. “And it seems you’ve only gotten more clever, nephew.”

“Unlike some, I know when my feelings aren’t reciprocated. It was hard as a boy, but I know better now.”

“Is that so? So, why are you dancing with me and not your new betrothed?”

“It’s simple, really.” Jace smirked as he leaned in close to whisper in your ear, “To anger my uncle.”

You giggled. “And why in the Seven Hells would you do such a thing? You only did so as a child.”

Jace shrugged. “I guess some things will never change.”

Some things do never change, including past resentments from others. One little giggle from Lucerys directed at Aemond, and all hells broke loose. Over a pig…a bloody pig. You didn’t really understand it, but to be fair, what happened to Aemond didn’t happen to you. You weren’t even there that night little Luke took his eye, but what was certain is that he still hated him and he wasn’t afraid to show it. A fight broke out, and Jacaerys quickly discarded your dance in favor of punching your brother in the face, which only managed to make Aemond angrier…and your husband.

After the fight was broken up, everyone was sent to their quarters. But Aegon grabbed you by your upper arm and practically dragged you to your apartments. “How dare you!” He shouted as soon as he closed the door behind him.

“I don’t know what you mean, my love.” You feigned innocence, batting your eyelashes bashfully.

Aegon scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t play the fool with me, you knew exactly what you were doing. Jacaerys? Really? You willingly dance with the enemy?”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “Enemy? He’s our nephew.”

“Fine. You willingly dance with someone who is not your husband!” He seethed, he grabbed you by your neck, pulling you close, your breasts uncomfortably pressing against his chest. “You dare embarrass me like that, in front of all those people.”

“You embarrass yourself in front of the whole Keep every day, what’s one more to add to the list?” You choked out, making Aegon’s eyes darken, and a chill shot down your spine. You hadn’t seen him this mad since the days after taking your vows…it made your cunt incredibly wet.

Aegon raised his hand to you, slapping you across your cheek and immediately marking it a bright red, making you yelp and your head spin. “Ah, so you wanna be a little slut for your bastard nephew, is that it?” He slapped you again until your knees gave out and you crumpled to the floor, his firm hand making you look up at him. “Is my cock not good enough for you anymore? You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He pinned you to the stone floor, the thin carpet the only thing cushioned your back. He straddled you, his cock already stiff and pressing against his trousers. “He’s just a boy, a pathetic, worthless bastard, and a whore like you can’t be satisfied with just a boy. You need me, who knows exactly what you need.”

“Aegon-”

“Shut the fuck up, whore!” Aegon yelled in your face, tearing the bodice of your gown right down the middle, exposing your heavy breasts to the cool air, your nipples hardening instantly. He palmed one harshly while unlacing his breeches and freeing his cock, pumping the shaft with his other hand. You winced at the roughness, but your mouth watered at the sight, and you knew Aegon knew you wanted this, from the way your chest heaved with anticipation and the way your pupils dilated to wide you could barely see your irises. “If you don’t choke on this cock, maybe I’ll fuck you. How’s that sound, slut?”

You squealed as Aegon forced his thick cock in your mouth, immediately reaching the back of your throat, bringing tears to your eyes, but you tried not to gag. You had done this enough times to train yourself to take him all, each time you’ve been able to do it for longer, but you were so eager for him to fuck you stupid. “Well, that certainly shut you up, didn’t it?” Aegon chuckled, biting his lip as he gently fucked your mouth, watching your lips stretch around his girth and threatening to crack the skin. “Gods, you always take me so well, don’t you, darling? You want me to fuck you that bad, hmm?”

You moaned around his cock enthusiastically, nodding your head slightly.

“Mm, if only little lord Strong could see you now, taking your husband’s cock so deep in your mouth you can’t even breathe, can you? What do you think he’d say? He’d probably be disgusted by you, a little whore who can’t survive without a cock stuffed into one of her holes. Isn’t that right?”

“Aegon-!” You tried to speak, but he grabbed your throat squeezing hard, and pinched your nose closed so you couldn’t breathe at all, his pace quickening and becoming relentless as he roughly fucked your mouth. You choked and gagged, grunting as your body started to run on instinct, jerking and writhing, trying to grasp for air but finding none. And as you started to become lightheaded and dizzy, your vision fading in and out, Aegon let both of his hands go and removed his cock from your mouth, a loud, shaky gasp echoing from your lips, coughing so hard you were scared you’d bring up your dinner. You sobbed a little, tears streaming from your eyes one after the other.

“Shh, shh, shh.” Aegon wiped away your tears with little finesse, shoving his fingers in your mouth and collecting your spit, circling your nipples before bringing his head down to nip and suckle on them like a babe starved. “On the bed, now.” With little strength, you shakily crawled onto your bed, but now before Aegon discarded the rest of your gown and smallclothes until you were completely bare to his eyes. “Mm, you always were the prettiest of us, weren’t you? You think you can handle more, slut?”

You nodded your head, “Please.”

“Using your manners, now? What a surprise. I didn’t think my cock would tame you that easily. You want me, darling? Not Jacaerys? I can go fetch him and I can find myself another whore that could take my cock in her mouth easier than you can.”

You scowled. “I’ll have your balls if you do such a thing.”

And in an instant, Aegon was straddling you again, slapping your face once more. “I guess I was wrong, you’re still acting like a little hellcat in heat. Maybe putting a babe in you will tame you, for a time at least. You know how the court whispers, how I haven’t sired an heir from you yet. I know you wanted to wait, but maybe tonight I finally will…then you can have my balls.” He giggled darkly. You moaned loudly when Aegon pressed two of his thick fingers inside you without warning, but with how wet you were, he had little to no resistance, besides you squeezing around his digits. “Fuck, you’re so wet. This all for me…or was it for Jace?” You shook your head no, but that only made him slap your pussy hard. “Use your words, slut.”

“All for you, Aegon! Only for you.” Aegon removed his fingers, quickly replacing them with his cock, hitting the ends of you with a single thrust. “Aegon!” You moaned, already feeling so full. You tried to move, but he held you in place, leaning down to take one of the stiffened peaks of your breasts into his mouth, sucking hard and then repeating the action with the other breast. “Please, more, please.” You begged, trying to cant your hips up but only meeting resistance from his hands pinning you to the bed.

“Only good girls get what they want. Are you a good girl?”

“...yes.” Slap. “No!”

“You’ve been a brat all night, and only bad girls act like you did tonight. And bad girls have to work for their pleasure. So, you will listen to me. You will obey my commands, understand?”

“Yes, my king.”

Aegon smiled, “Now there’s a glimpse of my good girl.” You whined as he slowly pulled out until just the tip barely remained, and then thrust back in hard, making you gasp. “That's what you wanted, little slut?” He thrusted into you again even harder, the loud slap of skin resounding through the entire room, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cockhead hit that special spot inside you that made your clit throb wildly.

“Yes, yes…!” You moaned, trying to keep your hips still as Aegon pounded into you hard and slowly, taking his time with you, keeping you frustrated but reeling at the same time. You started to cry, causing Aegon to giggle.

“Aw, is this not enough for my little slut? Do you not appreciate what your future king is giving you?”

“I need more, my king, please, I’m sorry, I can’t-” You babbled, your legs starting to shake.

“Hush, my darling, I’ll give you what you want. But you need to do something for me first.”

“I’ll do anything, please!”

“Tell me that Jace is nothing but the bastard of a whore who will never be king.”

You frowned, “B-But…”

“Ah, ah, ah, you said you’d do anything, did you not? Are you going back on your word to your king? Tell me how he’d never pleasure you like me.” Aegon’s thrusts slowed to a stop, his hand reaching down to circle your neglected clit with the tips of his fingers, causing you to arch your back in overstimulated pleasure.

“Aegon, please-!”

“Say it, bitch!”

“Jace is just a bastard who’ll never be king! He’ll never pleasure me like you can!” You screamed as Aegon finally started to rut into you with a brutality you’ve never experienced, he sat on his haunches, gripping your love handles with both hands so hard you knew it would leave your skin dark with bruises. The tip of his cock hit the ends of you over and over again, so hard you felt an ache form in the pit of your stomach. “Gods, fuck, Aegon!”

“Yes, slut, scream my name. Let the whole Keep know who’s fucking you like this. Scream so loud it’ll carry to that bastard’s chambers.” Aegon reached down to continue rubbing your clit, eliciting another scream of his name from your swollen lips. It almost sounded like you were being killed with how loud you were, but you were going to experience a little death soon if Aegon kept hitting both your pleasure spots at once.

“Are you going to cum on your king’s cock, hm?”

“Yes, my king, please, can I?” You sobbed, your moans getting louder and higher pitched as you edged towards that peak of pleasure.

Aegon smiled, groaning as his cock twitched inside you. “You’ve made up for all your bad behavior, so I guess you’ve earned it.” You groaned loudly as you came, clenching on Aegon’s cock so hard he whimpered, pounding into you until he neared his own climax. “You want your king’s cum inside you, darling? You want me to pour my seed inside you so you can give me an heir?”

“Cum inside me, Aegon, please, I want your babe inside me!”

“I’m gonna give it to you, darling, I’m gonna give you my cum, fuck-!” Aegon groaned loudly, burying his face in your neck as he shot his hot seed into your cunt, his cock twitching wildly inside you, making you whimper from the sensation. “Gods, fuck, darling…” He breathed out in exhaustion, rolling off of you to lay on his back beside you.

You lay there with a tired, but content smile on your face, simply enjoying the sound of Aegon catching his breath next to you, a sore ache between your legs.

“Did you enjoy that, you little vixen?” Aegon teased, huffing in annoyance.

You smiled as you turned to lay at his side, placing his arm around your shoulders and resting your head on his chest. “You know I’d never want Jacaerys, I just missed how we used to have our coupling in the beginning of our marriage…I only want you.”

Aegon raised a brow, looking down at you in amusement. “And here I thought I was the perverted one. You’re just as bad, aren’t you.” He turned to face you, smiling fondly at you, reaching a hand up to caress the side of your flushed face. “If you wanted me to fuck your brains out, my love, you could’ve just asked. I would’ve happily indulged you.” You gasped as he suddenly pinned you to the bed, keeping your wrist together above your head with one hand. “That being said, have you learned to behave yourself now, little one?”

You smirked, shrugging your shoulders. “I’m not sure, my king. I’m still feeling a bit rebellious.”

Aegon groaned as he wrapped his other hand around your throat tightly, his cock springing to life once more. “Then I guess it’s up to your king to teach you another lesson. Perhaps you’ll learn something this time.”

hope you enjoyed, Anon!

[3amfanfiction]

Simon Goes on a Trip (pt 6 of Doll and Darling)

Price x f!reader x f!oc

Simon has to go on a trip and decides to leave you at the Price house. Will you finally get to see your baby girl again? This is part 6 of the Doll and Darling series. You don't need read the others to understand this story.

10k, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, uncaring sex (reader is used like a toy), oral (f x f), slight breeding talk, general bad feelings

18+ MDNI

Change was never a good thing.

You'd been with Simon too long to properly conceptualize the amount of time it had been since he took you in the dead of night. And in that time change always brought untold terrors with it.

And now it was happening again.

You watched as Simon packed up his bag, a mechanical feel to his movements—clearly something he'd done thousands of times prior. In no time he tugged the last zipper closed and turned to you, dark eyes watching emotionlessly as you fidgeted where you stood, shifting weight from one foot to the other before back again.

"What's going to happen to me?" you finally dared to ask, a croak in your voice revealing your anxieties. You were terrified at the thought of staying in the basement with your ankle chain the whole time he was gone. He'd done it before—for shorter trips. You were inconsolable the whole time, convinced he had been killed or he had left you and you would die a slow death underneath the house. Rotting away with no one the wiser, withering away to nothing. It was horrifying.

He didn't say anything, content to continue watching you, deep thoughts spinning behind dark eyes. He'd play these mind games with you whenever he was bored. Sometimes asking for something a second time got you what you wanted—a movie night, an extra blanket, takeout brought back from your favorite lunch spot—other times he would wait for you to bring it up again before offering a harsh rebuke. Insolent, greedy, demanding. Words heard through rushing blood in between the swing of his hand or the thrust of his hips.

He liked keeping you on the back foot.

But you had to risk it.

"Am I going to go with you?" you tried, a faint wobble in your voice you did your best to disguise. You couldn't help the flinch as he suddenly moved, taking a step closer to you, same stoic expression across his face.

You whimpered, hunching down as his hand came up and grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger pursing your lips. You couldn't hold eye contact as he stared down at you, your gaze shifting to the middle of his face instead. It was silent as you waited for him to speak, nothing but your shaky breathing heard, little gasping breaths you fought to keep stifled. Quiet.

"Be careful. No one likes it when their pets become demanding." He gave a shake of your head before letting you go. Your gaze dropped to the floor, nervously twisting your fingers together as you waited.

He stood there and watched you fidget for a moment before dropping the bombshell.

"You'll be staying at the Prices while I'm gone."

\\\

You couldn't help but watch avidly as the scenery passed by. You were limited to your view from the windows most of the time, rarely let outside to experience sunshine or the wind. You never thought you'd miss it so much. Watching the trees rush by as you passed caused something approximating happiness to bubble inside.

You could barely stop yourself from fidgeting in your seat when the truck rolled to a stop, gravel crunching under the tires. Anxiety and nerves warring with excitement kept you from sitting still but you were determined to be good.

You weren't going to mess this up.

You practically launched yourself through the door when Simon opened it, struggling to keep pace with him and not dart forward as you slowly walked up to the front door. Was she here? Would you get to see her? It had been months by this point, there's no way she would remember you. You'd broken down when you realized you'd forgotten the way she smelled, the sound of her cries, the shade of her eyes. She'd be crawling now, wouldn't she. Probably nearly walking if not already and you could just imagine her getting into everything.

You hoped she was happy.

You hoped you'd get to see her.

You hadn't said anything by the time you made it to the front door—keeping quiet, being good—and Simon gave three strong raps to the brightly painted wood, the thudding booms echoing out to the trees ringing the property.

He turned to look at you while you were waiting for the door to open, dark eyes pinning you in place as if to say, if you fuck this up I'm not responsible for the outcome.

You wouldn't. You wouldn't fuck this up. You'd show him that you could behave and you would get to see your daughter. That was all that mattered in the end.

Her.

Your Charlie.

But you'd need to be careful not to call her that. They had changed her name. They called her Olivia now.

Olivia. It was a pretty name but it wasn't what you chose all those months ago when she was tucked away in your belly, safe from the world. When you would feel her little feet tucking up under your ribs as she stretched, or when she would get the hiccups and you could feel her jolting inside you.

You realized your eyes were tearing and about to overflow when you wrenched your thoughts back to the present. There was no use for it now, you couldn't change anything.

Olivia.

Her name was Olivia.

But she was still your daughter.

The front door opened, swinging wide on well-oiled hinges until you saw John standing there with a stern mien. He filled the doorway, shoulders touching the doorframe on each side, button up flannel loose over a tshirt with the sleeves rolled up over his hairy forearms, folded at the elbows. A rich, earthy smell rolled off of him, something spicy you couldn't name.

"Simon," he greeted.

"Captain."

Turning to look at you he let a smile crack through his expression, blue eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as his mustache twitched, "Doll. It's lovely to see you again." You smiled but didn't say anything as he continued, "No use standing outside on the porch all day."

Stepping back he gestured you both inside, pulling you into the warmth of the house. You followed Simon as he stepped over the threshold. Stepping into this bubble that could be everything you ever wanted or another hell, different -scape.

You were hit by a wave of heavily scented air—a late lunch bubbling merrily in the kitchen over to the side. You watched as Darling took a loaf of bread out of the oven, placing it on a wire rack to cool. You could see steam coming from the pot on the stove and a kettle placed off to the side, already heating.

Darling gave you a genuine smile as she turned around and made eye contact with you. It was clear she was happy to see you. You couldn't help the way your eyes darted to the highchair sitting in the kitchen with her holding a chubby-faced baby currently gnawing on a clenched fist—drool dripping down their wrist to wet their sleeve.

Darling followed your line of sight and darted over to the baby. She picked them up and brought them over to where you were still standing near the entryway. John tucked an arm around her waist like he couldn't bear not touching her. Lifting a little arm, she encouraged the baby to wave and said, "Hi Doll, this is Henry."

Not Char—not Olivia.

You choked, swallowing through the sudden desert in your throat to croak out a weak, "Hello, Henry."

You felt your heart take up residence in the deepest part of your stomach. This was all some cruel trick, wasn't it? Something Simon thought up to show you your place or some bullshit. Thinking back you realized he'd never promised you would see your baby, just implied. This was just like him to dangle hope in front of you before yanking it away. You figured he liked the way your looked when your heart shattered.

You felt like vomiting all over their spotless floor.

Your breathing was coming in short, sharp pants when Darling continued, offering you a saving grace, "William and Olivia are still asleep, they went down for a late nap today."

Suddenly you could breathe again, the weight against your chest rising to allow oxygen to flood your lungs once more. She was here. She was just sleeping. You would still get to see her.

You blinked back a sheen of tears at the whiplash as you reached out to shake Henry's little hand. You watched the other fist—drool covered with little dimples around his knuckles—grab onto his mom's shirt holding tight.

She darted a nervous glance at Simon before coaxing you towards the kitchen. "Come help me with this, lunch is almost done but I could use another pair of hands."

You followed her into the kitchen, Leaving the two men to wander into the living room. They took seats on the overstuffed couch and you heard the rumble of their voices pick up, discussing who knew what before Darling grabbed your attention once more.

She shifted the baby to her hip opposite the stove and held the spoon out for you to take giving you something to do. Voice dropping to a whisper she asked, "How have you been?"

How have you been? How have you been? You used to wake up each day wondering if it would be your last one alive. Every morning bringing a new horror along with it. But that feeling had faded over time. It was clear Simon had no interest in breaking his toy beyond repair. He did a decent job of making sure you were whole at the end of each night.

More or less.

All you offered her was a weak smile in return, changing the subject to her. "He's getting so big." You reached out to gently touch his sock covered foot. "The last time I saw him he was still in your stomach."

With a pinched look on her face she allowed the shift, "Yeah, he just turned 10 months, can you believe it?"

Soft eyes darted down to Henry as she brushed her fingers through his wispy hair. "Him and Olivia are as thick as thieves, you can't find one without the other. William's the odd one out by being so much older. He's about to turn three if you can believe it." She gave a strange smile before continuing, "The only reason there's so much space between him and this one," she gives a little shimmy to jostle the baby on her hip, causing him to let out a sweet giggle, "is because Sir was on deployment for months when he was around the baby's age. I imagine we'll start trying for our next here soon. He's already started sneaking mentions of it into conversations so I know it's on his mind."

"He wants another baby?" you spluttered, aghast at the thought of more than the three children already in the house.

"He's always wanted a big family," she explained. A brittle smile shifted over her expression. "He let me know as soon as he met me that we would be filling the house with little running feet so it's not a surprise."

You let silence lapse, reduced to stirring the bubbling pot for something to do. There wasn't anything you could say to that. It's not like either of you had much choice in your situations. Darling's life had the veneer of a healthy relationship but it was all a facade. She was as much of a prisoner as you were. Just with a pretty house and sweet babies attached at the hip.

The silence stretched thin as she busied herself with Henry, an echoing weight over both of your heads, forever threatening to come crashing down.

"Darling. Doll," was heard from the living room.

You felt like you were on call at all times, helpless but to be lured towards them, nowhere else to go. Subject to their whims and fancies as they appeared. Nothing more than a puppet jumping on a string for their owners enjoyment.

Moving over to the couch, you stopped a short distance away from the men. "What were you two getting up to in there?" John asked, a congenial expression pointed towards you that turned sly, as if he was inviting you into sharing a secret, "Nothing naughty, I hope."

"No, Sir," Darling answered before you could, voice light and breezy as she smiled charmingly at him. "We were discussing the lovely weather we've been having as well as what will be for lunch."

Simon gestured you over to him, wrapping an arm around your hips and pulling you into his lap once you were close enough. "That true, Doll?" he questioned, turning you to look at him. "Making small talk in there?"

You hum in assent, nodding your head along with the sound. No rocking the boat. Not this close to the prize.

Simon just stared at you, dark eyes sinking tethers into your soul, hook-teeth biting and ripping away chunks of yourself. His gaze was miasmic, corroding everything it touched, leaving noxious fumes in it's wake. You hated when he looked at you. You felt stripped bare, no pretenses to hide behind when he felt like peering into your soul.

Suddenly faint crying could be heard echoing from down the hallway. Almost immediately after, you heard a quiet mommy? called out, breaking the tension building between the two of you.

"Sounds like someone's awake, please excuse me," Darling demurred, stepping over to a play mat littered with toys to put Henry down before starting down the hallway.

"I'll help." You attempted to stand up but no matter how you squirmed you remained pinned in Simon's lap. You did your best to soften your expression, turning pleading eyes up to him, "Please can I go help Darling with the babies?"

You hated how much power he had over everything. You had no autonomy—everything went though him. He was in charge of what you ate, where you slept, if you could see your child. It was never ending.

Most of the time you could stand it by not thinking about it. Letting it wash over you as if it didn't affect you helped you keep your calm. Then there were times like this where you wanted to sink your teeth into Simon's neck and bite until your mouth filled with blood, damn the consequences.

But there was an end goal here.

After a heartstopping breath he grunted his agreement but didn't loosen his arm keeping you pinned. When you frowned in confusion at him he simply said, "My thank you?" but the meaning was clear.

He got like this sometimes—where he wanted you to thank him for the very air you breathed. And if you didn't do it enthusiastically enough for him he denied you that air until you turned blue and were appropriately thankful.

It surprised you that you still had any pride left after your time with him. And that it always chose the most inopportune times to raise its head.

You held the vitriolic words you wanted to spew, chewing them down until all their sharp edges were mostly blunted and swallowed them. You instead murmured a meek, Thank you, Simon, I really appreciate it, accompanied by a kiss on the cheek. A there and gone peck all you could stomach.

It must've been enough for him because he let you up with a rumbling hum, forearms flexing as he released you. You scurried away quickly before he could change his mind.

And then there she was.

Your baby.

You almost broke down in tears but stifled them as best you could. There was no use in scaring her when you only just got to see her. It felt like your heart was shredding as you watched her stand in her crib, squeezing the bars in her little fists and immediately stop crying when she saw Darling. She reached up with grasping hands, eager to be held.

You stood frozen in place as Darling went and picked her up. You couldn't move. Too in shock at seeing her again. She'd gotten so big and she had so much hair now. You were awestruck, looking at her.

She'd changed so much in the months you'd missed.

You watched Darling bring her over, ready to introduce yourself, ready to hold her in your arms once more.

"Olivia, this is Doll. Can you say 'hi, Doll'?"

Only for reality to come crashing back down around you.

Of course you couldn't be momma. That title now belonged to someone else. Someone else who would get to kiss away her boo-boos and dry her tears after a nightmare. Someone else who would get to tickle her toes until she giggled and make funny faces when changing her diaper. Someone else. Not you.

You felt like you were about to crumble as you managed a weak smile at Olivia. "Hi, baby. You sure are awfully big," was said while choking back tears. "You look so happy."

She watched you with big eyes, the color the exact same shade as yours. Her faint, wispy brows furrowed before she turned and buried her face in Darling's shoulder, hiding from you. From her own mother.

If you thought your heart was already in pieces this showed you there was still more to break. There would always be more. Some unexplored corner of your heart that could still feel the crushing pain of your life. Holes torn through it like bullets through paper—leaving nothing but gaping wounds for you to attempt to patch.

You couldn't do anything more than nod furiously when Darling asked, "Do you want to hold her?" before she was moved towards you.

She allowed Darling to pass her over, grasping your top with fisted hands when she was close. She let you tuck her under your chin before you buried your nose in her hair, inhaling fervently.

Now you remembered. How could you ever have forgotten this scent? This sweet smell of your baby. It was like a piece slotted back into place in your psyche. Some integral part that you hadn't even realized was missing.

You held her tightly, showering kisses across the top of her head. Her hair silken soft against your lips. You couldn't help but grip her tighter when she started to squirm, fussing slightly at your hold.

You'd missed her so much.

This child who had used to be a part of you.

Who had been ripped from you.

Who was happy without you.

You finally released her, letting her sit up away from you. She turned and held her hands demandingly out to Darling. It tore something deep inside as you passed her back over. You weren't her mom anymore, someone else had taken that role. You were relegated to a nameless nobody who never got to see her.

Fuck Simon.

How could he have taken this away from you. You needed to be a part of her life in the same way you needed sunlight and food. It was intrinsic. Something you didn't understand why you needed but your body and mind demanded it. And he took her away.

You couldn't help the tears that ran furiously down your cheeks, a rough arm scraped over your face to wipe away the evidence. If only your feelings could be managed as easily. Something you could allow yourself to feel and then put away when it no longer served you.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," you apologized, wet eyes glued to the baby, "She's just so beautiful and she's grown so much."

Darling watched you with sad eyes, knowing nothing she said would help. She was nothing more than a mechanism being used to break you. She had no more say in the matter than you did. That didn't stop her from despising the part she had to play.

"Doll—" she started before Mommy! was heard once more from the next room. Offering a tight smile instead, she went to go get William while you stood there in the empty room with two cribs and cried. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip with a vengeance, stifling your sobs. You felt the blood well up but couldn't stop. Too caught up in the cacophony of your swirling mind to pay attention to your physical body.

It was only when you saw Darling cross the doorway headed to the living room once more that you began to pull yourself together. You could do this. You could get through your stay here and you would do it intact.

Fact one: Olivia was your child but you weren't her mother.

Fact two: You were going to be in close proximity to her for the short future. You needed to get a hold of yourself to soak up every moment you could.

Fact three: Both men would love to see you break. You had to do everything in your power not to give them the satisfaction.

A shuddery breath was your only companion in the empty room as you turned to head back to everyone else. If you took too much longer Simon would come looking. And he'd know how much you were hurting. Walking into the living room you saw Darling plating the table with Olivia still on her hip. William was clutching her skirts asking for a snack only to pout when he was told no, that lunch was almost done.

Avoiding Simon and John's eyes you went over to help set the table. It was a matter of minutes to have everything set up before Darling called out to the two men visiting on the couch.

"Lunch is ready."

You struggled not to stare at Olivia the whole meal. If anyone asked you what the table conversations were, you wouldn't have been able to recollect. It was white-noise, in one ear and then out the other. Nothing but meaningless background chatter.

What mattered was the way Olivia's nose scrunched up when she got a bite of carrot. Or the way she frowned so intently while trying to get the soft potato to her mouth. She was precious. And messy.

You watched her bring a food encrusted hand up to her head, gripping her own hair firmly before letting go, leaving a detritus of vegetables in her wake.

You did remember tuning back in at one point in the conversations. The topic of choice was the spread between girls and boys that the other couple had. You listened as John told Simon he, plans on an even number between the boys and girls. And howthey'll, keep trying until we get it, right Darling?

You watched Darling agree with a bright smile and a happy voice and in that moment you hated her. Just a little bit. Only in the way that you couldn't understand her. Couldn't understand why she was so nice to everyone, why she kept a smile on her face with every word she spoke. You wanted her to scream and cry with you. To tell off these two men and—

—And what?

What would you do? What could you do?

They had all the power, you were there at their enjoyment. As their entertainment. You had nothing. No upper hand you could play, no aces hidden in your back pocket. Your only course of action was to survive.

Day after day.

Because even death would be letting them win.

They were locust, taking everything around them and using it up, consuming it until nothing was left. Until nothing of you was left. Only an empty shell remaining. A husk just waiting for a touch too firm—waiting to disintegrate back to dust.

You blinked and realized lunch was over. You'd missed it wrapping up and now Simon was standing in front of you. Darling and John were cleaning off the children before they started on the table while you and Simon stood off to the side of the room, playing at a mockery of privacy in the open space.

He reached out, grabbing your face and squishing your lips into a pucker, molars grinding against the sensitive flesh on the inside of your mouth. You flinched at the bite of pain but kept your eyes on his, waiting.

"You're gonna be good for Price, you hear me?" he growled out, expression darkening. "When I get back, I expect a perfect report."

"I will," you promised through pursed lips. Willing to promise anything in the moment. "I will, I'll be good."

He hummed noncommittally before letting go of your face, cheeks throbbing with the release of pressure. A metallic taste filled your mouth. You'd split your cheeks open against your teeth and now you couldn't stop worrying the wounds with the tip of your tongue.

Nothing you hadn't endured before.

You watched him tell John goodbye with a dip of his head before he was out the door.

You didn't know what you felt as you watched his truck drive away through the living room windows. The children chattering in the background with Darling and John having a quiet discussion off to the side felt surreal. This is the first time you'd had any sort of freedom without him looming over you. Always hovering. You weren't exactly left to your own devices but you weren't chained in the basement.

Silver linings and all that.

Meaning what you'd thought earlier about making the most of your time here, you turned to sit with the two babies playing together on the play mat, William coloring away at the table. You'd take any chance you could get to be in Olivia's presence.

Hours passed with you mostly left to your own devices. John had made his way outside to the detached workshop sitting over to the side of the house. When you asked Darling about it she explained that was where he did all his woodworking. Looking around the house you realized how much of the furniture was handcrafted wood. It was clear he liked to keep his hands busy.

Eventually it was dinner which passed much the same way as lunch, a loosely corralled circus with the children doing their best to wear more food than they ate. By the time everyone was sated the children looked a right mess. John must have been thinking the same thing because you heard him ask Darling to take them for a bath, that he'd take care of the table.

You started to stand, assuming you would be helping her with the children when John stopped you. "Doll, you'll be a dear and help me clean up the kitchen, won't you?"

You couldn't do anything but agree, aware that it was an order rather than a question due to who it was coming from. You felt his heavy gaze on you as you went to begin collecting plates and dishes to be brought to the sink.

"Simon warned me that you might try and act up but you've been a perfect angel, haven't you Doll?" he asked, putting leftovers into the fridge for later. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you stood over the sink.

"I'm trying to be good," you swallowed and then choked out, "—sir," attempting your best to be polite to him. To not make him angry. To not give him any excuse to take Olivia away from you for however long you were here.

He smiled, eyes crinkling up into attractive crows feet at the corner of his eyes. If you didn't know what kind of person he was, you never would've been able to tell just by looking at him. He masked his true intentions too well behind the veneer of civility.

"I think you've been more than good," he affirmed, shifting to look at you full on. You set down the dishes you had been rinsing and turned to meet his gaze. "I've been watching, making sure you wouldn't need any corrections, especially around the babies. But you haven't crossed any boundaries all day. I'd almost think Simon was mistaken about you not knowing your place."

He took a step towards you that felt menacing, heavy in a strange way. "But you do, don't you?" he continued, voice dropping into a low hum, now close enough to feel his breath brush against your face as he spoke. "You know what's expected of you and you've done a good job at toeing the line. Not confusing Olivia with any mistaken claims of motherhood."

You felt your chest cave in with the blow, lungs stuttering as you tried to breathe through the pain. Your chin dropped but he reached out and tilted it back up, keeping his eyes on you and making sure you looked back.

"I know, I know," he cooed condescendingly, "It hurts but you can take it, can't you, pet? You can keep being good and I can keep being nice. That's the way of things, isn't it?" He asked and then used your chin to nod your head. "Yeah, there's no reason to be mean as long as you keep being good."

He leaned closer to press a kiss to your forehead, lips soft as you caught a wave of his scent, rich and earthy invading your sinuses. With that peck he stepped back and raised his voice back up from the whisper it had fallen into, "Be a dear and finish the kitchen? I have something I need to take care of in the office." He turned and left you to your own devices, left to finish cleaning up while you fought tears and listened to splashes and giggling echoing from down the hall.

By the time you finished, the babies had been put down for bed and you had missed your chance to say goodnight. Another night without kissing her precious head and telling her you loved her. Another night without wishing her sweet dreams to help ward off any nightmares. Another night missed.

You stuffed your hurt deep in your chest with all the rest when they both came out of the hallway. You followed them to the living room where you spent the evening talking as if this were a normal situation. As if you and Darling weren't being held captive. When John asked how you normally spent your days, you let a bit of bite creep into your words when you asked, Before or after I'm unchained?

His response in a warning growl of, Watch yourself, was enough to cow you back into meekness. Timid once more after he showed his teeth. A skittering little creature intimidated by the bigger beast.

He eventually let Darling take over the conversation and it shifted to a lighthearted discussion of what you liked to eat. The topic meandered but it never dipped into anything heavy, staying firmly in the 'small-talk' realm.

You were flagging heavily by the time John stood up and announced it was time for bed. You stood with Darling and asked, "Where will I be sleeping?" You hadn't seen a guest room and barring an unexpected basement situation you assumed you would be taking the couch. Still. You were trying to be on your best behavior and that included not making assumptions. You didn't know how John handled true corrections and you weren't eager to find out.

You had subconsciously turned back to the sofa when John said, "In our room, of course. Where else would you be?"

Oh.

You should have known. Stupid of you not to have realized, honestly. You were a toy. Something to be used and handed around as your owner saw fit. Did you really expect this man to be handed a new toy to play with and think he wouldn't use it? You knew better than that.

You swallowed and gave a weak smile, "Of course," you croaked. Darling had already started down the hall so you turned to follow her, nearly jumping out of your skin at the firm pat John gave your bottom as you walked in front of him.

Entering their bedroom you were graced with the sight of a large bed dominating the space. The head and foot boards looked hand carved and you were able to spot several anchor points built into the woodwork. It was clearly a masterpiece that quite some time had gone into.

You joined Darling in the en suite to get ready for the night, meeting her eyes in the mirror as you brushed your teeth. You wondered what she thought about all this, about everything. There was nothing she could do about it, of course but she must have feelings about your respective situations. You wondered if you'd ever be in a position to ask her. She finished before you and went back into the bedroom. You heard her and John speaking in a low murmur, voices too quiet for you to make out the words.

Finishing, you dried your mouth and joined them, looking hesitantly at the large bed, knowing what was next. What was expected of you.

"Come give me a kiss, Doll."

And there it was. He wasted no time in getting the ball rolling. Stepping over to him, you made brief eye contact with Darling before John's—Sir's lips were on you. You remembered his corrections from last time. He would only allow you to call him John out of the bedroom, unlike poor Darling who was only ever allowed 'Sir'.

You knew he would have no problem taking his hand to your cheek if you forgot.

Letting your eyes close you quieted your mind and fell into the kiss, enjoying the closeness, the softness of the sensation. Simon was never soft when he kissed. He liked to bite at your lips and tongue until they were swollen and tender to the touch. One of his favorite pastimes was 'making out' until your lips were chewed up and bloody and then having you sink to your knees for him. He liked your pained expressions as he stretched your split lips along with the ring of blood you left around the base of his cock. A bastardized version of a ring of lipstick.

But Sir wasn't like that. He was soft and gentle—kissing into you with a delicate touch that belied the need coursing through him, his thickening cock giving him away. It messed with your head just a bit as you struggled not to fall deeper into the kiss than you intended to. The soft suckles to the tip of your tongue had your thighs clenching as you pressed your hands delicately along his chest.

He moved away and pulled Darling in, giving her the same treatment. You watched in barely concealed, disappointed want as they kissed each other sweetly, Sir's hands raising up to cradle her face, keeping her positioned exactly as he wanted.

He walked her backwards to the bed, snaking an arm out to grab your wrist and pull you along with. You caught yourself on the edge of the mattress as he tipped Darling back until she was splayed across the bedspread enticingly, a soft smile dancing along her lips.

"Darling," he purred, avarice filled eyes watching greedily, "Why don't you show us how a good girl gets undressed. Show Doll how I like my presents unwrapped."

"Yes, Sir," Darling said as she got to her knees facing you. She reached slowly towards the button along the front of her dress, coaxing them apart one-by-one with delicate precision. She took her time—a calming inhale heard between each button sliding through it's buttonhole. When she reached the end she shimmied her shoulders, sliding the dress down to be caught in the crook of her elbows. She paused here for a moment, holding eye contact with him before allowing the dress to slip down off her arms until it was puddled around her legs where she sat on the bed.

Pulling the dress loose she tossed it to the side before reaching back to unhook her bra. Her breasts dropped from below the cups as soon as she had unhooked it, coming to rest on the soft slope of her stomach. She shifted the straps down her shoulders until it too could be tossed to the side, leaving her in only her underwear, the front hidden from view below the overhang of her stomach.

"You'll leave your panties on," he said into the quiet air, eyes fixed on Darlings soft-looking skin, tracing the curves and dips reverently as he went. "I like to take those off myself." Releasing her from his stare he turned to you, Darling's eyes also shifting your way, watching as you reached for the hem of your shirt with trembling fingers.

You took a deep breath and coached yourself. This was fine. This was just like with Simon. You needed turn your brain off and let your body feel whatever it feels—there was nothing right or wrong about your reactions, they didn't define who you were.

You did your best to copy Darling, pulling your shirt off slowly, not allowing yourself to hunch forward in an attempt to cover yourself. You kept pace and peeled off the rest, leaving you in only your underwear per his request. You stood there, thousand-yard stare in your eyes until he reached up with a broad palm and pinched your nipple giving it a sharp tug and grounding you in your body once more.

"No floating off, Doll, you'll stay right here with us." His eyes were dark with lust as he took you in, tracing over your soft areas with intensity. He locked eyes with you once more as he said, "Darling, how would you like our toy for the night?"

You couldn't help the stunned and betrayed look you darted Darling's way before you schooled your features once more. She was going to be participating in this? Ordering you around, telling you what to do? It felt crueler than if it was just John.

Probably why he did it.

"I want to sit on her face while I look at you."

You knew your face did something at the declaration but luckily it was there and gone too fast for the others to catch. Momentary. Fleeting.

"You heard my Darling girl, up on the bed you get, flat on your back," he directed you, a pinch to your backside the only touch he forced upon you as you crawled into the center of the bed, maneuvering carefully around Darling's seated form, taking care not to let your skin brush.

If you expected them to dive onto you as soon as you were situated, you were vastly mistaken. Instead, he pulled Darling close to him and took his time kissing her. You were subjected to sitting on the sidelines as he slowly warmed her up, lips trailing over her neck and shoulders with little nips thrown in every so often, but always returning to her lips. As if spending too much time away from her was painful.

You listened to him murmur sweetly between each kiss, Taste so good sweetheart, I can't get enough, could barely keep my hands to myself all evening. Words spilling from his lips as if they couldn't be contained.

His fingers trailed lower, sliding down to play with the band of her panties, pulling it away to release it with a snap before sliding his fingers down lower to tease her clit gently through the fabric.

"Already this wet for me, love?" he asked, "Or is this excitement for our new toy?"

"It's all for you, Sir," she simpered, pressing into his hand and rutting her hips against his fingers. He slid the gusset to the side to slip one finger inside, sinking all the way to the knuckle with no resistance. You listened to her moan and couldn't help but shift your thighs together, searching for any type of friction on your clit.

You watched him gently thrust his finger into Darling's wet cunt before pausing to finally remove her panties and adding a second finger. It slipped in just as easily as the first and brought Darling's moans to a new crescendo. You listened to the wet squelch of it as he fingered her, getting her ready and warming her up before she sat on your face.

Her moans filled the room as she humped desperately into his hand, chasing the pleasure he provided until he took it away with a soft swat against her clit when she whined in disappointment.

"None of that. Take your seat."

With trembling legs she obeyed, moving over to hover above your face, her weight resting on her knees for the moment. You looked up into her glistening cunt, watching strands of arousal string between her lips. Her pubic hair looked soft and curly, as if it was conditioned and taken care of regularly, covering her softly curved mons and spreading down between her thighs.

You swallowed your drool shamefully.

You saw Sir move between your thighs just as Darling lowered herself to sit firmly over your mouth. You couldn't hear anything other than your own pounding heart with the way her thick thighs encased your head, the soft fat pressing from your skull down to your jaw, cradling your face in the heat of her. Your tongue darted out to taste her slick covered lips and you couldn't help the moan you let out at her taste, tangy, slightly bitter and so good.

You chased after the taste with your tongue, searching every fold for any hidden flavor remaining. She rocked into your mouth as you laid your tongue flat to give her clit something to grind against before pursing your lips and sucking lightly. She clenched around your skull, the pressure doing something to your brain, something that caused your thoughts to slow like molasses until it was all you could think about.

It consumed all your thoughts until you felt your own panties being slid down.

It wasn't like how he had removed Darlings—all soft touches and teasing slides— instead it was almost perfunctorily. Like it was another block to be removed until he could get at what he wanted.

You felt two slick fingers at your entrance and wondered if they were still wet from Darling or if he had licked them clean before they were suddenly inside of you. You yowled into Darling's cunt at the sudden stretch. You couldn't hear the, Hush up, can't have you waking the babies, he said. Or the, I don't even need to open you up, you're ready for any man to walk up and stick his cock into you, aren't you? Just a little toy to be played with.

You focused back on eating Darling to the best of your abilities while he played with your cunt. There wasn't any real drive from him to get you off, more like he was playing for his own enjoyment—alternating strokes and thrusts like he was experimenting. You were ashamed of the slick dripping down your ass to soak into the sheets.

You whined into Darling's slickness when he pulled his fingers away. You thought if your mouth would've been free you would have begged. You weren't empty for long however, before you felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against your opening.

You didn't hear the praise he blanketed Darling with as he slid into you, all the way to the back in one firm thrust. The, you look so pretty for me, Darling. Doing so well. Taking everything you're given, meant for her, not for you. You got to wail at the stretch as he seated himself firmly before immediately beginning to thrust, giving you no time to acclimate to the size and stretch of him.

Hooking your knees over his elbows he pistoned into you, jolting you from your place under Darling. Suddenly you could hear the way Darling was moaning above you, the heated whisperings John was directing her way, and the wet squelching of your cunt has he thrust inside. Darling reseated herself and you did your best to try and focus on her, licking and sucking on her sensitive folds, flicking the tip of your tongue against her swelling clit. All while Sir did his best to carve a new space for himself in the cradle of your hips.

He still didn't seem concerned with your pleasure—no soft touches to your clit or gentle caresses against your chest—no, it was all for him. Your body made for his enjoyment and his use. He moved you how he wanted, keeping your legs spread wide for his own satisfaction. Nothing but a doll to be played with.

Your jaw was throbbing, lips numb when Darling lifted herself up and you heard her say, "I want to lay on my back instead."

Sir didn't give you long to understand her words. With a sharp slap to your hip as if you were an animal he were trying to shift, he stated, "You heard her, Doll. Flip over," as he pulled himself out of you and sat back on his heels.

You felt his eyes roving your body as you rolled over onto your knees, dipping down to where Darling was splayed back on the pillows like a lounging princess. Your face was slick with spit and arousal—practically dripping from your chin. You made yourself at home between her thighs once more as you began to nip and lick.

With the new position you were bombarded with a host of sounds previously denied you. You could hear the way Darling gasped and panted, sweet little high pitched moans whenever you managed to flick your tongue just right.And you could see her. You saw the way her back arched and chin rose at the sensations. The way she played with her own nipples, pinching and twisting them as she saw fit. You saw her biting her own lip when her moans got too loud.

You were thoroughly distracted when John pushed back into you, once more to the root with no consideration for yourself. He started up a furious tempo, spreading your cheeks between his two rough palms. "Fuck, look at this pretty asshole. We'll have to try it out tomorrow."

You felt yourself clench at the entitled statement, something hot shooting through you at the thought of him inside your other hole.

You wondered how he would compare to Simon.

Darling's hands threaded through your hair, keeping you in place exactly where she wanted you. You could tell she was getting close with the way her hips twitched and tilted towards you, chasing her pleasure. "Almost, almost," she panted.

You couldn't see how John hadn't taken his eyes off her, staring at her rapturously, covetedly, as she climbed her peak. "That's it, Darling. Let me see you cum. Keep those pretty eyes on me and cum for me, sweetheart."

And she did, clamping her thighs tightly around your head once more as she bucked into your mouth, drawing each wave as far as it would go as she crested. You rode it out along with her, keeping your mouth sealed to her clit as best you were able. Helping her ride it out to the fullest extreme.

As she convulsed you realized you wouldn't be granted the same opportunity unless you took it for yourself. Sir had shown you very thoroughly how you weren't more than a toy to him. Something to be used but not cared for. If you wanted to cum tonight you would have to take the opportunity with your own two hands to make it happen.

You started to pull back once Darling was done, her body laying limply like she no longer inhabited it, chest heaving with every panted breath only for John to grab the back of your head and press you firmly back into her cunt. "My Darling cums more than once when she's being good, and she's been very good recently. You're not to stop until I tell you to."

It was clear you were being used as an over-stimulation tool because Darling started squirming and whining as soon as you attached your lips back to her clit. You watched her fight to keep from pressing your head away as she cried, "Please, it's too much."

"It's not too much, my love, it's just what you needed. Now say 'thank you' and lay there like the good girl I know you are."

Her entire body clenched like she'd just grabbed a live wire before she took a deep breath and purposefully relaxed into the sensations. You did your best to be gentle, easing her back into another climb with soft suckles and kisses, lapping gently at the swell of her clit.

While John had a plethora of soft, sweet words for his Darling, the same couldn't be said for you. For each, Let me see that pretty face, baby, there was an equal, Look at this sloppy cunt sucking me in. I didn't realize you were such a whore, directed your way. It was two extremes, directed at the two of you.

You tried to listen to him praising her and pretend it was for you. Each, Yes, Darling, just like that. Show me how good it feels, was directed towards you, not her. Every, You look so good like that, my pretty girl, taking it so well aren't you? Behaving so well for me, attempted to stoke your own fires.

But that wasn't the sweet comments that made you clench.

It was the groaned filth that fed the kindling buried down deep in your core, slowly smoldering, helped along by the relentlessly paced thrusts he hammered into you from behind. It was hearing, such an easy fucking slut. I bet you'd let anyone in these holes, wouldn't you? Probably thank them for it afterwards, that had you building higher and higher, clenching around his cock like a vice—attempting to milk it.

You were settling into a heart-racing rhythm, John's thrusts scraping something deliciously sensitive inside when Darling came for the second time. You walked her through it again, making sure to keep your tongue and lips soft around her swollen center, still chasing the drippings of slick she was leaking as if you were searching for a treat. Something sweet to be enjoyed.

He let you back away from her this time, panting into the soaked bedsheets as you fought off your own moans that had been muffled by her flesh shortly prior. Grasping your hips firmly, he began to thrust with fervor, no longer worried about dislodging you from your place between Darling's thick thighs.

His thrusts were jarring in their intensity. The force rippled through your bones until it shook your brain in its skull. A steady, thwap, thwap, heard as he buried himself in your wet cunt.

"Did he get you fixed?" he panted unexpectedly, confusing you. Fixed? Fix what? Your brain felt like it was melting from your ears, electricity racing along your whole body as he continued to thrust into you. You scrambled to try and find his meaning as you grasped the bedsheets under your hands to help keep you anchored when it finally came to you.

Fixed.

Oh.

Nothing more than a pet to be fixed so it wouldn't cause unnecessary difficulties. A dog subjected to her owner's whims. Even if you agreed with this specific choice, it was still made for you. Nothing you could have done would've made a difference. A particularly jarring thrust brought you back and made you unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth to answer him. "Yes. I'm on birth control now."

"Waste of good cum, dumping it in a closed womb."

He said it more to himself than to you, under his breath with a disgusted tone as if it was sacrilegious. Something he couldn't understand. Would never abide by. Something objectionable.

He pressed you down by the neck, face buried into the bedding until it was hard to breathe as he picked up his rhythm once more. You were mortified that it only took one final, Be good and fucking take it, to find your own release, clenching tightly around his cock as you attempted to milk him of everything he was.

It was with a low groan that he filled you up, muscles flexing in relief. You felt the hot wash of him as it bathed the base of your cervix tucked deep inside.

Uselessly—as he said.

He was panting as he pulled out, slumping back on his heels with a firm swat to your backside in parting. You allowed yourself to fall to the side, curling up into Darling's hip, forehead pressed to soft skin as if you could obtain some of her composure through osmosis.

Your thoughts wandered in the aftermath. You laid there and breathed in the hot, sex-scented air as you thought about your life. This is what you could expect now. To be used, passed out to whoever Simon wanted, whenever he wanted. And you had no say in it.

Maybe you did understand why Darling fell into her role like she did.

You came back to yourself when John entered your line of sight, holding a damp washcloth in his hand. He wiped down Darling's face gently, using his free hand to steady her chin as he took the towel to her drool and tear-streaked face. It was reminiscent of the way they cared for their children. When he moved between her legs he took the same care. Delicate, gentle strokes along over-sensitive skin that twitched at the slightest touch. The whole time whispering sweet nothings into the air about how good she was for him.

Once he was finished he shifted over to you and you braced yourself for the same kind of touch. Instead what you got was an indifferent, perfunctory swipe with the damp cloth. He at least used the clean side to wipe your face but that was all the concern he bothered to show as he cleaned you up, face and cunt with a quick hand. It was over before it began and he threw the towel into the nearby laundry hamper.

You fought back the tears you felt brimming at your lashline at his uncaring attitude. There was nothing you should have wanted from him but you found yourself yearning for it anyways. You wanted the soft words and soft touches. You didn't want to be a Doll. You wanted to be a Darling.

Only that wasn't quite right either, was it? Darling was a prisoner too. Maybe with more liberties but still locked in the cage, the same as you.

There was no freedom to be found there.

He shifted the three of you around until Darling was in the middle, him laying closest to the door. You wondered if it was in protection or entrapment that he blocked the only route of escape.

You tried to curl into Darling's side, craving any sort of comfort you could find only for that door to be closed firmly in your face. Darling turned away from you to curve tightly into John's arms, leaving you cold and alone along the outside of the bed.

You felt like a used doll, put away in the closet once no longer of use. Not someone with thoughts and feelings, instead only a mannequin in a human-ish shape.

You used the corner of the bedsheet to dry the tears that wouldn't quit falling.

\\\

Your remaining days passed much the same way as the first, the daylight hours filled with babies and chores around the house and the evenings filled with debauchery behind closed doors where you were treated as nothing more than a toy that was added to their bedroom.

It was almost a relief when Simon returned and said it was time to go home.

You stood from where you had been helping William color in his coloring books, moving towards Olivia to tell her goodbye. You were stopped by a hand on your wrist, keeping you in place. Simon's eyes were wells of pitch black, tiredness lined every inch of his face and it was clear he'd had a stressful trip, wherever he went.

"I just need to say goodbye and then I'll be ready to leave."

"Now."

You ignored him and tried to pull away from his grasp, knowing you only needed a few seconds to give Olivia one last kiss goodbye before you left but he wouldn't let go. Keeping a firm grip he started to move towards the door.

"Wait! I didn't even get to say goodbye yet," but he didn't listen, pulling you towards the door by the arm. "Simon. Simon, wait—" you searched for some glimmer of humanity hidden under his skin, "Please let me tell her goodbye," you pleaded but he continued to the door and you realized he wasn't going to stop.

Olivia started to cry, scared by all the commotion and Darling raced over to pick her up, John stood and used his body as a shield between you and them. As if he were afraid you would hurt them. Launch yourself from Simon and rail at them with your fists. It was absurd. You only wanted to tell your daughter goodbye. Not snatch her from them.

But once again, you were subjected to others desires instead of your own. Simon let out disappointed huff as he removed you from the house. Your last sight was of Olivia crying into Darling's shoulder as John shut the door.

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[belit0]

Uchihas finding out that their s/o is more powerful than them? ( Itachi Sasuke Shisui Madara indra Obito )

Let's see

Indra

Indra had felt it before he acknowledged it. Power hummed beneath her skin like a restrained storm, a force too vast to be ignored. He studied her in silence, arms crossed as he watched her dismantle an opponent with unnerving precision. His own disciples had never been so efficient.

His expression remained unreadable, but something in his eyes sharpened.

-You have been hiding this.

There was no question in his voice, only fact. She met his gaze, unfazed, unyielding.

-You never asked.

A rare flicker of amusement crossed his face. Not a smile, never that, but something like intrigue.

-I will not make that mistake again.-

Madara

Madara had always considered himself the pinnacle of strength, a warrior unmatched. But then she stood before him, unscathed from an attack that would have shattered mountains.

He laughed. A deep, rich sound full of something dangerous.

-I should be furious.- He took a step closer, sharing the same breath of air. -But this…- His Sharingan spun, eyes raking over her. -This is exhilarating.-

For the first time, he looked at her not as an equal, not as a companion, but as a challenge. And Madara thrived on challenges.

-You’ll have to show me just how deep your power runs.-

Obito

Obito didn’t want to believe it at first. Not because he thought her weak, but because he wasn’t supposed to be the lesser one. His breath hitched when he saw the effortless way she dismantled the battlefield, rendering everything around her insignificant.

-You…- He swallowed, eyes searching hers. -When did you get so strong?-

She tilted her head.

-I always was.

Something in his chest ached. If she had always been this strong, then what did that make him? He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

-I guess… I’ll have to work harder, huh?- His laugh was sheepish, but there was a flicker of something else in his gaze... relief. If she was strong, then she would never need saving.

Shisui

Shisui’s eyes widened, then sparkled. -Oh, this is amazing.-

She had taken him down. Easily. And instead of frustration, all he felt was pure, unfiltered excitement.

-Do you know how much I love this?- He grinned, springing to his feet as if he hadn’t just been floored. -This means we can spar for real! No holding back!-

He circled her, eyes alight with something close to admiration.

-I knew you were strong, but this?- He whistled. -Marry me.-

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the way her lips twitched upward.

Itachi

Itachi didn’t speak at first. He simply observed, taking in every shift in her stance, every flicker of her power that exceeded his own. And then, as if nothing had happened, he nodded.

-I see.

That was it. No resentment, no frustration. Just understanding. She raised an eyebrow.

-That’s all you have to say?

-What else is there?- His expression was unreadable, but there was something like relief in his voice. -If you are stronger than me, then that only means you will survive.-

It was the highest compliment he could give.

Sasuke

Sasuke hated the idea. It burned, deep and ugly, clawing at his pride. He was the strongest. He had to be. And yet… she had beaten him.

His jaw clenched, fists curling at his sides as he glared at her.

-That was a fluke.

She gave him a look—calm, patient, infuriating.

-Was it?

His Sharingan flared to life.

-We’re doing that again.

He wouldn’t stop until he won. Even if it took forever.

[maledictussanctus]

Elena stretched lazily beside him, the plush bedding cocooning her in a way that made it impossible to care about anything beyond this room, this moment. She let her fingers trace idle patterns along the fabric of his shirt, a barely-there touch meant to test just how much restraint he had left.

"You were planning on staring at me all night?" She teased, tilting her head just enough to meet his gaze, her lips curving into something softer—something wicked. "That’s funny, because I was thinking the same thing about you."

She could feel his eyes on her, drinking her in the way he always did, like she was something rare, something just out of reach. The heat of his touch still lingered on her skin, a quiet promise of everything unspoken between them.

When he rattled off their order, her brows lifted slightly, impressed but not surprised. Of course, he would order the entire chocolate ganache cake. He was nothing if not indulgent.

"You know, you really didn’t have to order an entire cake," she mused, shifting closer until her lips were a breath away from his ear. "But I’m not complaining. I like when you spoil me."

She let the words settle between them before leaning back against the pillows, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied little sigh.

"So, what are we doing until the food gets here?" Her voice dipped into something silkier, something that left no room for misinterpretation. "Because I can think of a few ways to pass the time, and there is a mini fridge over there... I bet it has a snack to hold me over in it. Since you're so worried over my stomach."

Her gaze flickered to his lips, an unspoken challenge lingering in the space between them. "Come on, I can see the worry lines from here. Is it Stefan? Because me and him's been over for awhile, Damon, you know that. If it's like brotherly guilt..."

This bed was ridiculously comfy, it curved around them in all the right places and Damon would agree to lay here forever- if that is what she wanted. He made a mental note to ask for the brand, already planning on buying one for them to enjoy together.

If they went home together.

That thought lingered as Elena skimmed through the menu. What would happen between them once they left New York? The tension would be unbearable—Caroline, Bonnie, and especially Stefan. Would they try to talk her out of this? Convince her this was nothing more than a mistake?

Elena stretched out next to him, long and graceful like a cat sunbathing, and he couldn't help but let his gaze li trail over her, committing every inch to memory. She was a sight he would never tire of—not now and not in a hundred years.

“I was planning on staring at you all night.” He teased but with a little hint of truth in it as a hand found its way onto her core, tracing a light and lazy touch. If it wasn’t for the sound of her stomach, Damon would just forget the food all together but he didn’t want her to go without because of his selfishness. “But we can eat first.”

Reluctantly, Damon sat up on the edge of the bed to get the phone and dialed the number for the hotel kitchen. “Hello, yes.” He started off, eyes skimming the menu as he named off the items they were wanting. “Make it rare. The lamb? Medium.” A complete guess on how she’d like hers done, he assumed she wouldn’t stomach it if it was too red. “For dessert, chocolate ganache cake.” A slight pause. “No. Let's do the whole cake. And the final thing…” Damon filled the menu over to the drinks side. “The finest red wine this place has.” The call was over with that, he could tell by the butler taking the order that it was an impressive sized order but probably not the most expensive this place has ever received.

Damon hung up the phone, satisfied. "It'll be here within the hour," he said, settling back onto the bed beside Elena. They could turn on the TV, watch a movie, or play some music, but nothing compared to simply watching her, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. How many nights had he slipped into her house just to check on her, especially when Stefan was away? How many times had he whispered silent prayers to whatever god would listen, hoping that one day he’d get to lie beside her like this?

[melmedarda]

"I missed you little man." ⸻ VI & EKKO, Arcane

[nanaslutt]

roommates!gojo & geto jerking each other off while thinking abt their cute neighbor they both want soooo bad

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

“do it harder.” geto groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he laid back against satoru’s pillows. said man currently had his hand wrapped around his cock, albeit poorly. his hand was soft as fuck, but he was touching him like he had never touched a dick before. “jerk me off how you jerk yourself off.”

gojo snorted, his words breathy as he spoke, “what if i like it soft?” geto shook his head and curled his toes when gojo wrapped his hand around him tighter. “these walls are thin, i’ve heard you having sex and i know you don’t like it soft. those poor girls.”

gojo laughed, “they love it, i think she would love it too.” he said. geto licked his lips, starting to paint an image in his head. “what would you do to her?” he asked tentatively, his eyebrows furrowing together when gojo focused on his cock head like the bastard he was.

“mmm i think id start with fingering her.” gojo said. “i’ve seen her a couple times in the laundry room bend over in those tiny shorts—you know the ones. and her-“ he stopped talking to groan when geto stroked over a particularly sensitive vein. “they don’t cover much.”

geto nodded, seeing you bent over in his head. “you think she’s sensitive?” geto asked, cracking his eyes open to peek at gojo. his eyes were lidded and focused on the hand around his cock. geto tried not to shy away when he felt his pre cum drip into his hand. he’d never jerked anyone off before—besides himself.

“oh yeah,” gojo responded, biting his plush lip. for some reason it made geto’s mouth water. “i think… fuck, i think i could make her squirt with just my fingers.” gojo’s face was getting flushed now. it made geto want to tease him. “yeah?” he asked, squeezing his hand tighter around his shaft and relishing in his reaction when he sucked in a breath through his teeth and arched his back. “would you make her squirt all over our couch?”

gojo moaned at his filthy words and nodded, his head tipping back against the headboard. “yeah.” geto nodded, looking at his roommate even though his eyes were closed. “what would you do if i walked in when you were making her cum?” he asked, paying attention to the head of his cock.

“i-id let you suck my fingers clean.” he groaned, making geto’s balls throb at the visual. “god, she’d probably get so hot… trying to press her thighs together watching me suck your fingers.” gojo nodded, his mouth falling open in a small O.

“would you want her pussy or her ass?” geto asked, his breath coming more quickly. “ass, i know it’s so tight and warm. god. would you want her at the same time?” geto nodded despite him being unable to see. “yeah, just think about how good she would look with tears down her face trying to take us both.”

suddenly, a hand way being wrapped around his wrist. geto opened his eyes fully and watched with rapt attention as gojo cursed before his back arched. he continued stroking him, despite knowing what was gonna happen. he cringed when hot ropes of cum spilled from his dick, coating his hand and his cock and making a lewd sound from the stroking.

gojo gripped geto’s wrist to stop him, and geto pulled it away and made a face at the mess on his hand. gojo also had stopped jerking him off, just weakly holding his throbbing cock. “that did it for you huh?” he teased. gojo laughed before removing his hand from geto’s cock.

gojo crawled off the edge of the bed and bent down to grab a towel to wipe his cock clean with. geto gripped his cock and languidly started stroking, waiting for gojo to help him get off. “your turn, one minute man. come keep this fantasy going so i can blow all over your hand and pretend it’s hers.”

a cruel smile twisted on gojo’s face before he dropped the towel and zipped his pants back up. “i’m sure you can finish yourself off.” getos mouth opened in disbelief. “if you need some help, i have porn from last night still up on my laptop, feel free to check it out. it’s really good stuff.” with a wink, he left geto gaping and alone in HIS room with his stiff cock in his hand.

fucking biiiitch.

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. "Shut up, mom!" prank with JJK men PART 2

➜ featuring: higuruma hiromi, ryomen sukuna and fushiguro toji

➜synopsis: your child(ren) has a death wish for sure.

➜note: sorry for the long wait! it's here at last :)

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

༉‧₊˚. HIGURUMA HIROMI

Your husband was a busy man. You and your daughter could count the days he spent at home with the two of you–lazily snuggling his two favorite girls on the couch as you rewatch your favorite family movie (he claims that Encanto isn’t his favorite but he has memorized all the songs). So what better way to spice up the day than by pranking your favorite man?

“Sweetie, what did I say about tissues on the kitchen counter?”

“Huh?” your daughter’s annoyed tone makes Higuruma look up from his phone with a quirked eyebrow. “Oh yeah, whatever I just forgot.”

“I said it many times before. I don’t like tissues on the kitchen counter.”

“Oh would you just drop it?” your daughter sighs, annoyed. She gets up from the dining table and makes her way around the couch, walking past her dad. “You’re always making a big deal out of shit like that.”

“Huh-”

“Hey? Don’t use that kind of language with me–”

“Just shut up already!” 

In the blink of an eye, Higuruma’s phone dropped from his hand and he stood up from the couch, nostrils flared and body seething with anger.

“What did you just say?” 

“Dad-”

“Did you just tell your mother to shut up?” You feel bad for making your daughter witness this side of her dad, but she’s quick to give her nervous giggle with her hands up to her chest. 

“Dad, it’s a prank! I promise!” 

“Honey, it’s a prank.” It’s comedic the way his eyes go from almost bulging out of his skull, to deflating like a balloon. He heaves out a sigh he doesn’t know he was holding and drops his head.

“What part of this prank seemed funny to either of you?”

“Mom said she liked it when you were protective of her–”

“Why are you exposing your mother like that!” 

“You made me the target of his anger!” 

༉‧₊˚. RYOMEN SUKUNA

“Where are the brats?” Sukuna’s voice is flat as he walks into the kitchen. Dinner was served, and yet his twin boys were nowhere to be seen. “Still upstairs?” 

“Yeah, I called for them earlier but they don’t want to get off that damn console.” You sigh in defeat, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I’ll try again, wait.” 

Sukuna lets you handle this by yourself and takes a seat by the dining table. He watches intently as you make your way upstairs and then a minute later, a fight ensues. Loud voices and the sound of doors slamming can be heard, which makes your husband’s eye twitch. 

“I told you to take out the trash and you said no! I tell you dinner is ready and you say leave me alone?” you continue to complain as you walk down the stairs, your tall teenage boys right behind you, sporting the same scowl as their dad’s. 

“Why are you being overdramatic? I told you I’ll do it later!”

“I want you to do it now, the kitchen reeks!”

“That’s a you problem, woman.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“Would you just let it go? Just shut u–!”

Your twin boy doesn’t get to finish his sentence before your husband is pushing his chair back, aura as dangerous as ever. You’ve seen Sukuna angry before, you’ve seen him in all of his states but this one was by far the scariest.

“Brat.” 

Sukuna doesn’t let his son finish his sentence before he takes off his wedding ring and places it on the dining table. “Let’s go outside. You and I.”

“Wha–”

“You eat dinner without us and you–” he points at the troublesome one of the pair. “Will get to eat if you beat me.”

“But dad–”

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.”

“Babe,” you step between your fuming husband and his son, hands caressing his chest. “Calm down, it’s fine–”

“Get out of the way, woman.” he says with a snarl, but you can feel his body relax under your touch.

“But it was just a prank.”

“A prank?” Now you’re scared for your life. “Who told you that shit is funny? You like being disrespected?” 

“No, but I like seeing you angry,”

“Oh I’ll show you what I can do when I’m angry.”

“We are quite literally right here.”

“Then leave.”

“Babe!” 

༉‧₊˚. FUSHIGURO TOJI

“Megumi, do you want some?” You’re in the car on your way back from a party that one of your friends has thrown for her toddler when you turn to your own kid with some cake. “It’s your favorite.” 

“No.” 

“No?” Toji notices your frown and his son’s unusual attitude towards you but says nothing, eyes fixated on the road. “Well okay,” 

You heave out a sigh, biting back a smile as you look out the window. Toji locks eyes with his own through the rearview mirror and the child looks away almost immediately. What’s up with his attitude today?

The moment you walk into the house, you’re taking off Megumi’s shoes who’s still doing a pretty good job at pretending to be having an attitude and he makes his way to the kitchen where he grabs the box of cookies which he knows he’s not allowed near. 

“Gumi, no.”

“I want one.”

“After dinner, okay?” the six year old boy huffs and puffs and when you take the box away from him, he pretends to throw a fit as he starts to make his way upstairs.

“Go to the bathroom, I gotta give you a bath before eating.”

“Shut up!” You don’t know where Toji was, you don’t feel him behind you until you see him storm towards the stairs. All you hear is loud thuds on the wooden floor and your heart is in your throat.

“Fucking brat,” he mumbles under his breath. “What the fuck did you just tell your mom?” 

“Toji–”

“She wanted to prank you.” Megumi confesses almost immediately, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “She told me that you look ‘hot’ when you’re mad so she wanted to test something.” 

You stand there, dumbfounded and flustered at how fast your kid exposed you. Suddenly, you feel small as you feel Toji turn around and stare down at you with his dark eyes. 

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm. She also said that she will call uncle Satoru to come take me after–”

“Megumi!” 

COMMISSIONS

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[teddybeartoji]

“look at me, hm?”

toji's voice is barely above a whisper, his words softer than ever. with his hands circled around your middle, he stands there behind you, his chest glued against your back like a big bear. his heavy head rests on your shoulder, eyes locked onto yours in a quiet plea. you think you hear a pout in his tone. 

but you don’t give him a reaction, gaze locked onto the vegetables on the cutting board in front of you.

you’re upset with him and toji feels like he's dying.

all of this just because you're jealous.

because the love of his life is jealous. 

toji only spared her a glance, brushing her off and saying that his partner is waiting for him – she’s the one that went on and on, talking about the milk carton in his hands as if toji had never seen it before. but little do you know, every single word that spilled from the stranger, went in one ear and right out the other – toji couldn’t be less interested in anybody other than you. if you were to crack open his head and take a look around, it’d be all you. you and your laugh, you and your eyes, you and your hands, you and your hobbies. you and you and you. even when he was standing there with the milk carton in his hand, the only thing on his mind was how he’s going to watch you chomp down a big bowl of cereal the next morning. 

you just happened to see the moment the woman leaned closer with a charming smile on her lips and her hand on his forearm while saying her goodbye, and that was enough for the ugly thoughts to bully themselves into your head.

even though you trust toji, you know he doesn’t entertain any flirting attempts that might come his way, but sometimes… sometimes you just can’t help but feel that you might not be enough. what if he did think the woman was more beautiful, or maybe he did find the guy, who asked for his help at the gym the other day, hot? what if he found them more interesting than you, what if he feels himself stuck to you against his will? 

you heard your own words swimming around in your head and cringed at yourself, ashamed that you were letting that weird growth of jealousy torment you.

but it had already taken root. 

that evil, ugly little thing in the back of your mind. and you couldn’t shake it.

not on your own at least. 

toji had made his way over to you, taking his place by your side while squinting at the little piece of paper in his hands. but you were quiet, more so than usual, and toji isn’t stupid – he might not be the best with feelings and emotions, but he does know you. 

he could tell just by the way you avoided his gaze, the way you started to shorten your answers. the way you pulled away and into yourself – he watched you disappear into your own head right in front of his eyes and he hated it. 

but not wanting to push any wrong buttons here in public, he swallowed your silence with a heavy heart and guided you to your car with a hand on your lower back. he’s not as afraid as he used to be – he isn’t as scared to step into your space, now knowing that this is just what you need sometimes. a little push, a little nudge, to break free from the vines of envy and jealousy and doubt. he’ll burn them, he’ll cut you free. 

the car ride home was quiet. with your head rested against the window and eyes set on the passing buildings and cars, toji found himself stealing glances at you every chance he got. oh, how he hated the pout on your lips, the very same one you’re wearing now. all he wanted to do was to take you into his arms and kiss you, hold you. to make you laugh. to make you forget every single thing that has ever bothered you.

toji let you simmer for exactly ten minutes, just enough for you to change into your pyjamas and to wash up before deciding on your distraction – the dishes. he snuck up on you as silently as he could; the tips of his fingers itched to feel your skin under them, his ears tired from the silence in the apartment. the sigh that you let out as he pressed himself flush against you, sounded better than anything before. toji had already started to miss you in those twenty minutes you were away from him. 

“please… “

it’s not often you get to hear that word, especially in that tone, so it’s hard for you to ignore the stuttering of your poor, sensitive heart. his nose nudges against your cheek and you put down the knife to lean into him on instinct; with your hands on top of his, your bodies mold together like pieces of a puzzle. 

“you know you’re the only one for me…” 

the words form in the back of his mouth and roll from his tongue like a low purr. they’re coated in something sweet, in something only you get to see and feel. his arms tighten around you and you know he means it. his heart beats against your back, as nervous as it is confident. he’s sure about his statement but a part of him is still scared that you won’t have him. that you’ll leave him. 

“she talked about the milk, that’s all she did, sweetheart.” gently, he sways your bodies side to side, letting the warmth of his body engulf you as he ropes you back to him.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“do you believe me?”

it’s something you’ve been practicing in order to get rid of any remaining specks of doubt. it goes both ways; he trusts that you’ll say what’s on your mind and you do the same. 

honesty. 

raw and real.

“yes.”

toji lets out a little puff of air through his nostrils, a wave of relief settling into his body. he knows it’s not over just yet, but it’s a start.

“can i kiss you?”

toji’s mossy green eyes meet yours for the first time in what feels like forever and all he can think about is how much you mean to him. his darling, his baby. he’s not one to be a sap, but hell, when it comes to you, he’s more than willing to drop to his knees and recite love poems for you if that’s what you’d like. anything and everything. 

he watches your eyes flick down to his mouth and then back up again and the little nod you give him is more than enough for him to finally press his lips to yours in a needy, hungry kiss. you melt into each other – skin against skin, tongue against tongue, it just feels right. the spark between you is still there, burning brighter than ever after all the time you’ve spent together. over hills and mountains, through lakes and rivers – nothing is too much or too little for the two of you to conquer together. he’ll be there for you and you’ll be there for him. 

“‘m all yours, sweetheart.”

his hushed words slip right between your lips and slither their way down your throat. inside, they bloom and they flourish. they overtake the rotting weeds that were growing there before and you feel it. you feel it happen. he breathes into you and you become alive again.

"i love you."

[bi-writes]

hi! i was thinking if you could write an older!boyfriend simon x reader BUT reader is john price's daughter so is kinda of a forbidden and secret relationship !!!! they've been dating for a long time now until john finds out !!!!!

18+

"how is she?"

"doing well, john. but you don't have to worry about her anymore, you know that right? she's not yours to worry about."

"she is mine. i know she's not..." john huffs. "she may not be blood, but she's mine, yeah? so when i ask 'ow she is, you tell me, kate. can we agree on that?"

"sure, john. she's in georgia. her russian got very good. if you want to know my honest opinion, i think she'll be one of my best."

"well...i wouldn't stand for anythin' less."

"john?"

that voice is music to him. he turns, taking his hat off, and he laughs, genuinely, when he sees you. his whole face lights up, and you make your way to him. it's been months since you've seen him in person--even though he makes you send him constant updates about what you're doing and where you are, you find yourself missing this man and the warmth he gives off whenever you are in his proximity.

he's always looked at you so kindly. he's always taken care of you. whenever you pick up the phone, he's always answered.

"'ello, bug."

he crushes you in a warm hug. he puts a hand on the back of your neck and holds you to his chest, and the tension in his shoulders deflates now that he has you with him.

"hi, john. miss me?"

"well...you were the only one with sense in my house."

"you live alone, john."

"aye."

he pours you a hot cup of tea before he makes you tell him all about your new posting. most of it is classified, and you tell him that, but his face lights up when you talk about the new skills you're learning and all the opportunities that kate is giving you. his face scrunches a little when you talk about the more dangerous ops, but john never has the same regard for his own life.

the mess hall gets busy once dinner time rolls around. his men were not expecting you, and that much is clear when they see their captain even enjoying a meal in public and not secluded in his office. you smile at his sergeants, but when your gaze lingers a little longer on the doors, johnny just nudges you with his elbow.

"miss the big guy?"

"what? no."

"he had a long night last night," he wiggles his eyebrows at gaz, who just laughs a little. "i might need to try the whole brooding, scary look LT has got on. attracts the most bonnie things, fuckin' christ."

your plate flies when you stab at your food too hard. the cutlery clatters as it hits the floor, and you jump a little, swallowing.

"are you alright, bug?"

"huh? yeah, oh...yeah, just...fucking clumsy. i...i'm gonna...find the toilet."

the blood is rushing in your ears as you make your way out. you're vibrating, hot inside, and you feel him before you see him, even in your anger.

when he pulls you into the shadow of a nearby supply closet, you swipe the blade out of your boot and hold it up against his throat. even through the mask, the blade bites, and he hisses as you hold him up against the wall there.

"don't fucking touch me," you snarl, and ghost's eyes are bright and alive as he holds his hands up defensively.

"wot--"

"and don't what me," you snap. "actually, don't fucking talk at all, you cheating, manipulative, british piece of shit--"

"look so pretty," he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. "did you do y'r hair, baby?"

"i will kill you."

"'s olright. last thing i see'll be you."

"i'm not fucking kidding, simon!"

he bends a little, tilting his head, and you breathe out through your nose as he leans his forehead against yours.

"reckon ya spoke t'johnny."

you scoff. "told me all about your winnings last night, lieutenant."

"was no winnings, love, don't be so fuckin' naïve." simon swipes at the handle of the blade, curling his gloved fingers around your wrist and forcing it away from him. "y'r just mad cause y'r cunt missed me."

"don't flatter yourself, asshole."

"so if i pull your knickers down right now, y'won't be drippin', swee'eart?"

"that's irrelevant."

"'s not. turn around and bend over."

simon's sorry, so he eats your pussy from behind. he gets down on his knees, and the crack of them satisfies you immensely, up until you feel his mouth between your cheeks, tongue slicking up your folds. you brace yourself against the wall, palms flat against the concrete as he puts two gloved hands against your ass and spreads you wide to fit himself nicely there. he hums, groans, makes you whine as he slurps obscenely into your cunt, laving at the drip of you until the taste of you floods his mouth.

"simon..." you whimper. "tell me i-it's not true."

he presses a wet kiss to your ass, biting it firm.

"'s not true, love. promise."

"fuck your promises," you sniffle. "you're a professional liar."

"tha' 'ow it's gonna be, innit? not gonna trust me? believe me?"

you rest your forehead against the cool wall, and the shadow of him envelopes you when he stands. he grunts a little as he gets to his feet. his big hands squeeze at the curve of your waist, and you close your eyes when you feel his breath against your neck.

"i'm sorry, simon."

"for wot?"

"i just...i like you so much. so much."

"come 'ere," he murmurs in your ear. he pulls your hips back, pressing your ass against his pelvis, and you dig your nails into the wall when you hear his belt buckle and zipper. "my pretty girl. my pretty, pretty girl."

"i missed you s-so much, simon."

"i know, love. quiet now. someone'll hear."

it's not the worst place you've fucked. you've snuck quickies in the rec room. behind the mess hall. met up in filthy gas station toilets, fallen into the backseat of a car in the parking lot of numerous military bases. even once, you deigned to suck his dick in his office, and you had to hide behind his couch when john came in to ask about an op.

john had a rule. his men were off-limits. he should've thought about that before he hired a man straight out of your wet dreams for his stupid fucking task force.

you're weak. and simon is a man.

inevitable.

you're a mile into pound-town when someone interrupts. simon is cock-deep inside of you, pelvis up against your ass, one hand braced around your throat and the other squeezing your ass. your eyes are rolled back into your head, and there's drooling coming out of your mouth. it's hot, disgusting, filthy to let him have you like this, but it's been weeks since you've seen him, and the phone calls aren't enough.

you love talking to him. you love when he talks to you. he'll never be annoying to you, you'll never get tired of him, but the distances hurts. you want simon to be all around you--inside of you, against you, his voice in your ear and his mouth against yours and his warmth your only sheet, but you can't bring yourself to do more than this.

you're too afraid of disappointing people. you're too scared of simon's rejection. if your relationship is nothing but fun, nothing but sex, you can pretend it isn't real, but you're just lying to yourself now.

you babble, and it sounds like love, but then the hallway light blinds you, and familiar blue eyes nearly kill you.

"jesus christ!"

simon puts his body in front of yours to cover you, using a harsh boot to kick the door closed. you squeak, covering your face with your hands, and you groan audibly as simon pants against your back.

"fuck--" you gasp. "oh...fuck, fuck, fuck!"

simon buries his face into the crook of your neck, laughing a little.

"bloody hell," he breathes. "reckon we're fucked, huh, love?"

"it's not funny, simon! we're in so much trouble!"

"well..." he squeezes your throat gently, tilting your head back. "could still finish. no sense in pretendin' now."

"you are not going to come when he's probably waiting for us outside."

"i'm balls deep in my favorite girl," simon mutters. "could come just fine. just say the word."

"you're disgusting."

"mmm..." simon squeezes your hips. "keep talkin'. i like when y'talk t'me like tha'."

"fucking asshole."

"yeah...yeah."

"you stupid, immature, unhinged pain in my ass--"

"fuck."

well.

you're definitely never leaving this room.