#i'm tired of barely keeping everything together

[lovecorebasil]

hmm .

[running-in-the-dark]

it's been a month since we moved into the new apartment -

I'm so stressed. everything is stressful. we're still not done building the kitchen but it's getting there (slowly). mostly we just need to wait until we get a couple parts that weren't in stock when we ordered the rest. I'm hoping it'll be done by next weekend.

some of it is very frustrating with my brain specifically. I'm so bothered by all the tiny little things that no one else would even notice - like, some of the handles on the drawers are very slightly crooked (as in, less than a millimeter higher on one side) - but for me it's so obvious that it's impossible to ignore. my husband didn't even know what I meant when I pointed it out to him. there's also been a few slightly bigger issues, but we've solved them now (I think).

my eye has been twitching for like three to four weeks. not all the time obviously, but every few minutes. it's very, very annoying.

we still have no new info about when we'll have internet finally. it could take a while still.

on Monday a guy has to replace something in the electric roller shutters in one room - but we don't know which one yet. so either I'll have to let him into my room (awful, uncomfortable, will have to tidy up tomorrow so he could even get to the window), or I'll have to get both our cats into their carrier if it's the one in my husband's room (awful, difficult, one of them doesn't like that so he'll be scared and I'll feel bad).

also on Monday the electrician will install our stove (if he has time). then we're getting two ikea deliveries. and I've got an appointment with my (new) GP because I need a prescription, and I'm very (verrry) nervous about it.

I miss watching TV. I miss tumblr and YouTube and messaging my friends whenever I want and sending them photos all the time. I miss order and structure and (some level of) routine. I miss using real cutlery (we still haven't found ours lol).

when I was finally starting to get used to the noises in this place, the family above us moved in with their baby that cries all the time very very loudly and most of the time right above my room. so now everything is different again and I'm not adjusting well and once again I can't sleep.

but, I've listened to 14 audiobooks since we moved! that's been nice. it was the same way when we moved the last time (just over a year ago..). my favourite by far was The Thursday Murder Club. I've got the other ones in the series but I'm trying not to listen to them too quickly, so I'm gonna listen to three other books first (one is done already, so I should get there on Monday or Tuesday hopefully).

[ectoplasmer]

i'm supposed to be sleeping but i'm busy sobbing into my hands over ryou for like the fifth time already this week

[smutoperator]

I Love Her Smile

Kim Jiwon (Jeewon) x Male Reader

Tags: ass eating, belly bulging, big tits worship, bikini, bouncy boobs, creampie, cup, cute smile, deepthroating, (lots of) facefucking, motorboating, pile driver, queefing, riding, titfucking, spit, vibrator

Word count: 3739

After filming the music video for Cignature's latest comeback, Jeewon seemed tired. Being the milking cow of a small company while carrying such a heavy load can be quite burdensome. But even after such an exausting routine, she managed to always smile.

You met Jeewon after the filming, asking her about how she felt. "I'm good, but a little tired; how about you?" she asked. "I'm fine; better now with you. I love your smile, Jeewon," you replied.

"I wasn't born yesterday; I know what you mean by that," Jeewon said. "Well, you're such a tease I had to notice," you said back. "Indeed, I live off that," she continued.

"Then stand up and show me what you mean by that," you told her. Jeewon understood the assignment, shaking her body left and right and making her beautiful milkers swing. "Perfect, they are so beautiful," you told her. Indeed, Jeewon's massive tits never ceased to amaze you, no matter how often you had seen them. That outfit they gave her for the video made Jeewon look sexier than ever, and you were enjoying it to the fullest.

"Shake them harder, tease me," you ordered to Jeewon, who obliged. Her small bra could barely hold her fully natural 34 double-D cup tits in place, and that got truer with all her shaking. Jeewon felt her nipples start to slip and tried to cover them as an instant reaction, but it was futile.

Jeewon laughed and bounced her boobs up and down. Her bra wasn't enough to hold them in place for long, with her right tits popping up first. She kept shaking them until they were on full display. "Good girl, that's what I'm talking about," you told her.

"That was fun," Jeewon smirked at you. "Keep teasing me; put your bra back and flash them," you told her, who does that before letting them fully free. "I could do this all day for you," she said. "But weren't you tired?" you asked her. "Yeah, but I love the attention you give to my tits," she said.

"Well, you're such a cute, sexy girl, Jeewon. I'll give you all the attention; better if you take those jeans off," you tell her. "Sure," she says, pulling her pants down and showing the lower part of her bikini. "It's all for you; we didn't film it in the music video because it hardly covers anything," she said.

"If it barely covers anything, you should just pull them to the side," you told Jeewon, who quickly followed, spreading her ass cheeks for you to see her holes. "We're just getting started," she said. "Indeed we are; take those panties off next," you ordered. "Hmmm nice, your ass is winking already; I can't wait to put my tongue in there," you told her.

"You're such a naughty boy," Jeewon told you. "Yes, I am," you said back. "You told me you were tired; you should sit on this chair and let me please you," you continued. "Of course," she said.

Jeewon sat on the char as you started massaging her bare boobs, then kissed them and licked her nipples. Alternating between the boobs, your tongue perfectly worshipped them. "Shake them into my face," you asked. Jeewon grabbed her udders close together, and you started motorboating her, much to her enjoyment. 

"Lube your tiddies," you told Jeewon, giving her a bottle to pour the liquid all over it. "Shake them for me, my baby," you said. Her lubed tits made for a much easier massage, as you quickly took advantage and easily slid your hands back into Jeewon's udders, clapping them against each other and enjoying the sound.

"Everything is better with lube," Jeewon says. "You know what's better? Your tits shaking in my face," you replied, starting another round of motorboating, this time with Jeewon going much faster. After she was done, you groped one of her tits while sucking the other like a needy baby.

"You like that, don't you?" you asked her. "Yes, I love it," Jeewon said, showing you her big, btight smile. "Shake them harder in my face," you told her. Jeewon amplified the intensity as your head was hit left and right by her huge milkers, and you loved it. So did Jeewon, who couldn't stop laughing.

"Hmmm, how much of those tiddies can I fit in my mouth?" you asked her, bringing them together and getting your face buried deep in her udders. "They can barely fit, I see," Jeewon laughed. Sometimes she tried to hide, but there was truly no point; her boobs are huge, and she loves getting them worshipped. "Your mouth is so good in my tiddies," Jeewon said as you kept kissing and grabbing them, even slapping yourself with them. 

"Let me spin it around and show where else my mouth can be good," you told her, spinning the chair hard to get Jeewon's ass in front of your face. You were so excited you ended up missing the mark and almost making her fall off. "Wow, you really want it," she said. "Yes, I do; put your ass close to my face," you replied.

"For all the talk about your tiddies, you sure got a nice ass too, Jeewon. Can you make your butt wink for me?" you asked, making her laugh. "How does a butt wink?" she asked. "Well, whatever, as long as you're ready for my tongue," you said, diving it into Jeewon's butthole with fast stabbings inside her pink anus.

Jeewon started moaning and grabbed your head to push it deeper into her ass. "Ahhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhh, you tongue it so good," she said. "Lean forward and let me spit on it," you said, sniffing and eating her tiny butthole. "So, do you like my tongue in your ass?" you asked. "I love it," she said.

A few more minutes of eating ass and Jeewon moaning ensued as you tongue-fucked her. "You taste so good," you told her, following with spinning sessions with the chair where your mouth went from her anus straight to her big tits and then back to her asshole. "Which one do you like better, how I grab your tits or how I eat your ass?" you asked. "Can't decide; both are so good," she said back.

You went back to her tits for a bit, pinching her nipples and slapping them against each other. "I just love that sound, making a milkshake with them," you said. "Now let me get back in that ass," you said, getting your tonguing more intense and Jeewon's moans louder. "Oh my God," she said as you were committed not to spare a single inch of her anus without cleaning. 

"Ohhhh, ohhhhh, you eat my ass so good," Jeewon says, with lots of moans in between. "Then hold my head and push it against it," you replied. Jeewon shaken her ass with your face making noise between her cheeks, mimicking the motorboating you gave to her tits moments ago.

"Yeah, that's perfect, ahhhh," Jeewon enjoyed every second of your tongue in her ass. "You look amazing; it seems like you're ready to suck some cock," you told her. "I'd love to," she replied.

Jeewon unzips your trousers and gets shocked by your hard cock already popping out. "So big," she says, measuring it against the bottle of lube you gave her and finding out it's got the same length. Jeewon starts sucking it using no hands and getting very sloppy from the start. "Spit all over my cock," you tell her.

It doesn't take long before you grab her head and start pushing your shaft deeper into her throat, making Jeewon almost choke on it, spitting more saliva once she gags. She quickly recovers and starts blowing it off again, making a lot of noise. 

"Are you ready to get facefucked?" you ask her. Jeewon nods positively. "Then come here," you say, grabbing her head and pounding her sloppy throat a few times as a test. "I love all that spit dripping from your face," you say, as Jeewon uses it to lube your shaft and suck it deeper, her udders bouncing hard as you fuck her face.

"Drool on it, baby," you tell as you can't stop fucking Jeewon's cute face, hitting the depth of her throat until she coughs again. Her face is already full of saliva, as you let her jerk your dick as well. "You're such a good cocksucker, aren't you?" you praise her blowjob skills.

"God, I love how much spit is falling into your chest," you tell her as you don't stop fucking her face, taking it balls deep as a string of saliva forms from Jeewon's chin up to her tits. "Shake those tits if you want to suck my cock," you tell Jeeewon, who moves them left and right after. "Perfect, just like that," you tell her.

Jeewon savors your meat to the fullest as you treat her throat like her second pussy. "Get it all the way down your throat," you tell her, but she struggles with your massive length, quickly gagging after a few tries. "I can't; it's just so fucking big.".

"Open your mouth wide," you tell Jeewon as you keep sticking your cock in it and enjoy the bulging under her cheek, giving it a couple strikes. "Holy shit, my boobs are full of saliva," she says as she shakes them, and you start the hardest round of facefucking on her. The only thing better than a smile in her face was your cock stuffing it.

"Play with your pussy while you suck my cock," you order to Jeewon, handing her one of those gigantic magic wand vibrators, which she turns on and places between her legs. Your facefucking is so sloppy; she's got saliva running all the way down her belly now, and the louder the vibrator gets, the harder you fuck her face.

Jeewon starts to moan louder as her pussy gets massaged; between it and your thrusts in her mouth, she can barely hold the vibrator as her legs get weaker. "Good girl making that big cock wet enough to hop on it," you praise her. "Yes, I'm ready to ride this," she says.

"Not yet," you tell Jeewon as she gags on your cock. "Slap those tits against my cock," you order as Jeewon brings them up together and starts hitting your pole from both sides. "Perfect, now let me spank your tiddies," you say, slapping your hard shaft against her milkers as she once again gives you that big smile you love so much.

"Squeeze that cock," you ask Jeewon, who presses your shaft between her big tits. It's so girthy she can barely squeeze them together. After such a long time, finally a cock worthy of her massive boobage. You push it up and down her tits, like a sausage making its way between a pair of hot dog buns.

You don't hold back, giving Jeewon the hard titfucking her massive udders deserve. "Open your mouth, lick that cock while I destroy those big tits," you tell her. Jeewon loves it, licking your tip like a maniac every time it emerges out of her milkers. "Keep your mouth open," you say, thrusting so hard that instead you actually end up missing it multiple times.

You lay down and let Jeewon be in control. As she squeezes your cock so hard, only your tip now pops out of her tits. "Oh yeah, that's so good," you tell her. "My tits are so soft and wet; look how easily they slide between your cock," she says.

However, it doesn't take long for your primal instincts to take over. "Let me tittyfuck you, bitch," you say as you start thrusting up Jeewon's huge melons in full speed. Her big heart now forms a heart-shaped (or pussy-shaped, a few would say) hole that your cock passes through. Jeewon keeps it well lubed with some spits, as you slide between her boobs fairly easily.

You take a little break and let Jeewon bounce those boobs up and down your dick like a maniac, with a few cocksuckings in between. Jeewon then stops and starts deepthroating your cock. "Do it; get it as wet as you can for your pussy," you tell her. Jeewon does just as you ask, coating your cock full of spit for a couple minutes. "Don't use your hands, just bob your head all the way down my balls," you tell her. Jeewon goes deeper and deeper until she finally gags.

"Are you ready to ride me now?" you ask Jeewon. "YESSSSS!" she enthusiastically says, her big smile back on her face. Jeewon doesn't take long to sit on your pole. "Ohhhhh," you groan as her tight pussy squeezes your walls. Jeewon herself is impressive, as she takes your full length. "Oh my God, Oh My God, fuck," she says as soon as she starts bouncing on it.

Jeewon quickly turns into a mess; your wet cock easily slides up and down her pussy, and her boobs are now jiggling nonstop. "God damn it, you're so fucking big," she says, but never stopping the ride.

"Choke me, yessss, ahhhhhh," Jeewon moans as you make it harder on her. Your hips clap hard against her butt every time she descends down it. You give her a little test as you push your cock up while choking her, making her laugh full of joy as she quickly regains control of the ride.

"Oh my God, you're so fucking deep inside me," Jeewon says as she can't stop moaning. You now grope her big tits, much to her enjoyment. "OH YES, OH YES, OH YES, OH YES," she rapidily screams. "Lean forward a bit," you order to her, taking her massive udders in your mouth while she bounces on your dick.

Jeewon's pussy quickly starts tightening the longer she goes with her ride. You grab her waist and push her body down your hips. "AHHHH FUCKKKK, YESSSS," she screams, closing her eyes as she gets completely impaled and her boobs bounce freely.

More and more moans come out of Jeewson's mouth as she quickly gets exausted, using all her mouth to ride your cock with hard and fast bounces. Her udders are a spectacle to watch as they turn into wild pinballs that move directionless. "AHHHHH, Fuck my little pussy," Jeewon begs, slowly getting out of breath the longer you impale her pussy.

"Get on your feet and keep bouncing on that dick," you command. Jeewon pushes harder, her pussy getting stretched out to the fullest, her ass clapping hard against your body. You finally decide to give her a break: "Come here to suck my cock," you tell her, kneeling as Jeewon bends over and gets that meat in her mouth as soon as you give her the command.

"Don't cover your tits; let me see them bounce," you tell her as Jeewon bobs her head on your cock. Like an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object, you meet her head bobbing with more thrusts down her throat, doing as much as you can to make her boobs bounce.

"Ready to put it back in your pussy?" you ask her. "Yes, always ready," she says. "But first, you need to get a little sloppier; let me make those tits shake," you continue, fucking her face once again as you entertain herself with all the movement her milkers make while you do so.

Jeewon can't hide how tired she looks at this point, panting multiple times as she gags on your cock. But she's still hungry for cock, spitting all over it and throating it as deep as she can as you destroy her tiny, slutty mouth.

"Now you're ready," you tell her. Jeewon brings the lube bottle back and gets her boobs wet again. "Shake it," you command, as the lube falls down into your crotch and Jeewon rubs it on your shaft before sitting on it again, this time in reverse cowgirl.

Jeewon doesn't hold back, riding your cock as hard as she can. Her boobs are an even bouncier mess now. And she's an even bigger mess of moans. "AHHHH, YES, FUCK, OH MY GOD," she screams as you just passively watch, Jeewon planting her hands against the couch as a support while she bounces on your prick.

"OH FUCK THAT'S DEEP," Jeewon says as she ends up sliding your cock inside her cunt all the way down to your balls. You take advantage of this moment of weakness from her and thrust upwards. "AHHHHHH, YESSSS," she screams as her tits almost fly out of her body.

"FUCK THAT'S SO DEEP IN MY STOMACH, YES, YES, YES," Jeewon screams as your cock strikes her mercilessly balls deep, losing her breath as you hit her cervix. Her body is fully sweaty as she just lies on top of you and sits with your cock deep inside her, massaging your balls while she tries to recover from the quick but extremely hard pounding you just gave her.

Jeewon tries to ride a couple times but can barely last a minute. "FUCK YES, YES, YES," she says. "I need this cock so bad, but I'm so fucking tired," she says. "Then suck my dick," you tell her as she takes it deep in her throat like a hungry demon, but you do to her face just as you did to her pussy, pouding it from down low while Jeewon struggles with her throat getting filled full of cock at a franctic pace.

"Are you ready to get fucked lying on your back?" you ask Jeewon. "Yes, please, do it; I've never done this position before," Jeewon says with a huge smile on her face, her legs pressed against her big boobs. "Ready for this big cock to take you on a piledriver?" you keep asking. "Yesss, I'm so excited," Jeewon answers.

You rub and slap your cock against Jeewon's entrance, adding a little lube around her lower side. Jeewon's pussy starts queefing as soon as you penetrate it. You love the noise coming out of her cunt as you fuck her. "Hmmm, look at this tight pussy squirting all that lube," you say. "That's so hot," you say.

Jeewon grabs her boobs, jiggling them with her hands, and her moans are very out of breath now. You play with her pussy going in and out of it and enjoying the queefing sounds. You slowly pick up the pace, bulging your massive cock under her belly. "Fuck this little pussy, YESSSS, FUCKKK," Jeewon screams in between lots of moans.

"Look at that big cock under my stomach," Jeewon notices your bulging dick, massaging her belly in the area around it. You hit her pussy straight and deep, staying with your shaft buried all the way down her cunt. "Let's see it, let's see it," you enjoy your cock stabbing her insides as Jeewon runs her hands around the bulge under her tummy. "Poke me right there, please," she demands.

"AHHHHHH, OHHHHH FUCKKKK," Jeewon screams as you hit deep in her cervix; she is exhausted now and just enjoys you taking her pussy all the way in. A few liquids come out of her vagina, and you love it. "Oh God, are you squirting?" you ask her. "YESSSS," she screams as your cock dives into a pudddle of juices that get trapped between your shaft and gravity, pushing it back down inside Jeewon's fuckhole.

Jeewon laughs as you finger her little pussy. "Come here, baby, taste that cock full of squirt," you tell her. Jeewon gets up immediately, diving to suck your dick and lick your shaft from top to bottom, enjoying the taste of herself. "Dirty girl," you say to her as she chokes on your cock and bounces her tit with her franctic head-bobbing, smiling like the good whore she is.

As Jeewon finishes gagging on your cock, a coat of saliva fills it from top to bottom. She still has the strength for one final round, slapping her own ass as you look at her baby-making body. Jeewon puts her right leg up and gets herself into an acrobatic position on the couch for one last fucking. You slide your cock deep into her pussy from the beginning, making her moan softly.

You pound Jeewon fast and hard, making sure her boobs bounce as much as possible. At this point, Jeewon can barely feel her legs, just letting herself become a little cocksleeve for your monster cock. "Oh yes, oh yes," she moans as your balls clap against her clit and her boobs hit her chin. "That feels so fucking amazing," she says as your cock relentlessly attacks her cunt.

"OH YES, OH YES, OH YES," Jeewon says as you pound her balls deep. Her tits become massive bouncy pinballs at each thrust you give her; her clit stretches out like an opening mouth, and speaking of mouths, she opens her as far as she can to moan every time your cock fills her insides.

"CUM FOR ME, YES, CUM IN MY LITTLE PUSSY, PLEASE," Jeewon begs. Soon, you leave your signature inside it, coating her walls full of your white ink just as she wanted to. "Push it out," you tell her, spreading her pussy lips and bringing a cup where your cum lands after flowing out of her pussy.

Jeewon pushes the cum out of her pussy like a cow getting milked out of her tits. "Drop on your knees and pour it all over your big tits for me," you demand as Jeewon picks the cup up and fills her milkers full of your milk, licking her own nipples to taste your cum right out of her boobs as she gives you one final big smile.

"That was a lot of fun," Jeewon says. "So you had a lot of fun, you little slut; what was your favorite part?" you ask her. "Probably the piledriver loved watching your cock poking me from the inside," she said. "That's great; I hope I get to have more fun with you," you tell her. "Me too; that would be awesome," Jeewon replied.

"Last thing, I really love your smile," you say to Jeewon.

"And my big tits and little pussy too," Jeewon says, shaking her tiddies for one last time.

"Needless to say I love them."

[aakeysmash]

prompt here; reader going on and on about how they never find someone and bakugou is just looking at them ready to snap

hehehe love this prompt tbh 🌸

"Katsukiii," you whine, throwing yourself on your best friend, who was previously chilling on his couch. He grunts, merely acknowledging you, before pushing your head away from his chest and keeping on scrolling through his phone. You've been best friends since kindergarten, and even if you're both adults now, when you're bored you just go to each other's house to do nothing together. You find comfort in knowing you can keep on being silent together, with no type of pressure whatsoever, and no need to find topics to dwell on either. Just pure, unfiltered and plain tranquility... well, kinda. After a few moments of silence, you start poking his cheek to gain his attention.

"Keep doing that and you'll find yourself missing a finger, fucker," he tells you, side-eyeing you. You immediately see his eyes glimmering. "Look," he says, turning his phone to make you watch a tiktok about a monkey slapping a baby. He chuckles, but when he sees you're confused he mumbles something along the lines of "you're always so fucking boring," then smacks your hand away from his cheek and keeps on scrolling while frowning.

"Find me a boyfriend," you suddenly tell him.

He snaps his head toward you. He must have heard you wrong. "The fuck you said?"

You huff, getting up and pacing around the room. "I mean, you know me, right?" you ask him, looking at him expectantly.

"Damn right I do, you've been pestering me for more than two decades," he answers, rolling his eyes. He gets up too, going toward his fridge to take out a water bottle.

"Then find me a man, since you know what I like," you say, following him.

He chokes on the water he is gulping down and you have to pat his back to make him stop coughing. "Why the fuck are you searching for a man?" he raspily says, glaring at you, hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

"Why wouldn't I search for a man?" you ask, tilting your head a little, still massaging his back. He just stares at you for a moment, but when your expression doesn't change he just lifts a finger and points at you from head to toe.

"Are you saying I'm ugly?!" you exclaim, giving him a hard slap on the back. He coughs again, caught off guard, shaking his head.

"I need love too, you know? The few men I've been seeing in the last, I don't know, three years, were all boring as heck," you complain, going back to the couch and sprawling yourself on it. "I just wish I had a big, strong man by my side, you know? Matter of fact, keep that in mind when you search for it, okay?" you continue, face smushed on the couch pillow, looking at his still crouching figure. Then you turn your body around and stare at the ceiling. "I want someone serious who I can build my future with. I'm tired of people who only want to fuck."

"Okay dumbass, but why are you fucking searching for a man?" he asks you, ignoring the sad tilt to your voice, getting closer. He crosses his arms and looks at your face, still standing up near the couch. From this view, he looks gigantic; his bulging biceps are almost bursting out his sweater, and you feel hotter the more you look up.

"Katsuki, do you want me to punch you in the face? I'm not that ugly," you say rudely, recalling what he just said and trying to focus on the words escaping your mouth.

"I did not fucking say that, yn" the blonde barks back, the vein in his temple pulsing. You just huff, annoyed, and close your eyes.

Everything is still for a while; then you feel movement beside you before feeling one of his calloused hands on your forehead. He barely touches you, but you feel his presence. You feel he's here, next to you, warm hand on your face, thumb barely tracing little circles on it, and it calms you down. He's always had this effect on you: you remember him driving all the way to your campus while you were still in college just to curse you out for stressing too much on exams, and it always worked back then too. You lean into his touch, sighing.

"I meant to say you don't have to search for a man, men should be searching for you. And generally speaking, you wouldn't have to search for a man if you just opened your eyes a little, dumbass," he says, softer than you ever heard him being. You turn your face a bit and do as he just said, finding yourself a palm of distance from his own face.

You keep on staring at each other for what feels like hours, his hand still tracing your features and gently massaging your scalp. You don't think you've ever seen him so relaxed. You both get closer to each other, losing yourself in the moment, when-

"You mean to tell me I have a stalker?"

He pushes your face on the couch, hard, before screaming at you to get immediately out of his house. You are thrown into a fit of giggles, and before he can get up you bring him down on you.

"I guess you’re big and strong enough for me," you say, smiling.

[siempre-bucky]

hallucinations

Qimir x Reader

summary: Qimir takes quick action when you get sick on Khofar when you start seeing things

wc: 1.6k

a/n: for the anon that wanted some whump... I hope you like it <3 I'm working on requests rn and they're still open for Qimir!

You wanted to like this planet. Khofar was a planet you had dreamed of visiting since Qimir gave you a map of the outer rim. The dense forest made you feel so at home, one with the galaxy—or at least you wanted it to feel this way. Your head pounded with every step you took as you trekked behind Mae and Qimir, your lungs struggling to fill with air. You weren’t sure when you began to feel so dragged down and exhausted, you didn’t feel this way often. 

Qimir pulled his pack higher onto his shoulder and looked behind to catch a glimpse of you. His eyebrows knitted together in worry, “You alright?” he asked, tripping over a rock but catching himself gracefully. You looked up with tired dry eyes, they burned as you tried to keep your gaze on him. With a nod, you drew in a breath and powered through to close the distance between you and your friend. 

“Fine,” you answered, masking the illness that took over your body. You wanted to crawl back to the ship and bundle up in the small sleeping quarters that barely slept the three of you. This mission wasn’t about you, Mae was eager to please the master and kill the Wookie. Right now you hated the eagerness that was powering her, it made her walk faster. 

“You don’t look fine,” Qimir sighed, “we can stop.” He slowed his movements as you entered deeper into the forest, his eyes looking at your feet to make sure you didn’t trip over a rock or exposed tree root on the small ledge you had to climb down. 

You raised your hand and put it on his shoulder to reassure him, tempted to lean against him for support as you maneuvered around to get to solid ground. “I’m good. We need to help her find Kelnacca.” He noticed the weakness in your tone, followed by the slight hoarseness that had him wondering when the last time you had water was. “It’s just in front of us.” 

The man looked forward, squinting to see what you were talking about. He knew the exact location and you were nowhere close to the cabin where the Wookie resided. He quickly realized that you were so sick you started to see things. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed as it dawned on him. He grabbed ahold of your arm gently to get your attention. You turned to look at him and he was able to take in the sweat on your forehead and the lifelessness in your eyes. “I need you to sit.” 

“I’m fine, Qimir. I feel ok.” 

Famous last words. A wave of lightheadedness crashed into you, and it made you stumble right into his chest. A chill followed, and suddenly you were transported to Hoth; freezing with no solution. Qimir was warm, the thickness of his coat warmed your cheek for a brief moment before he peeled you off of him. Everything was muffled as he sat you down on a rock, you vaguely heard him call out for Mae. The world spun as you watched him give her an empty canteen and urged her to go get water from the creek nearby. You swore you saw womp rats following her closely as she hastily disappeared into the forest.  

You suddenly felt the warmth of his hand hit your cheek, and you leaned into it, your eyes meeting his. His hand felt like a pillow, holding you steady as you struggled to stay conscious. His face finally came into focus. Qimir was just as beautiful as the day you met him, when he was still a gun runner for the Hutts, and you were freshly recruited by the Master for your set of skills.  “I think I’m sick, Qi,” you chuckled, giving in. 

“I know,” he sighed, using the side of his sleeve to gently brush the beads of sweat from your forehead. 

He looked around the forest anxiously, no sight of Mae and he had lost track of when he sent her. He grumbled something about her always taking her time and cursed her lack of urgency under his breath. Qimir felt you slump over and it instantly worried him. He’d never seen you so sick before. You managed to fight off colds with his remedies and hide your sniffles when you needed to. It hurt him to see you like this. 

The world went dark after that, and the next thing you knew, you were waking up to the smell of a familiar remedy. There was something about the spiciness that tickled your nostrils that instantly made you feel better. Qimir made it often when either of you got sick, storing containers of it just in case he couldn’t make it right then and there. He made it the first time for you just months after you met, getting caught in a rainstorm and the doors to the place you were staying wouldn’t budge. You were stubborn and demanded to stay with him after he shouted at you to find shelter while he tinkered with the bolts and screws. You were stuck in bed with a terrible cold for a week and Qimir never failed to bring you the special soup. 

You could hear the metal spoon drag along the bottom of the pot, the warmth of a fire soothing the chill you were still stricken with. A blanket had been draped over your torso, you snuggled in deeper to let it come up over your mouth, touching your nose. It smelled of him, earthy and a scent so uniquely Qimir. With a soft groan, you turned your head to the side to take in the room. It would have made a nice shelter if the Master wanted, it was large enough to hold a few people yet it had a charm to it. You felt as if you could live here for a while, fill up that nearly empty bookshelf in the corner, and bring those rusted-over monitors near the dirty window to life again. Maybe just not now though, your body felt as if an entire ship had been dropped on top of you. You didn't want to move, you couldn’t move. 

Qimir saw you wiggle beneath the blanket out of the corner of his eye. He quickly poured the soup into a bowl and carefully walked it over to you, kneeling beside the makeshift bed. “How are you feeling?” He placed the bowl on the table beside him and placed the back of his hand on your forehead. You were still burning up he noted, he took his hand and crooked his long pointer finger, letting it drag along the side of your face. Your head followed his touch so that your face was looking at the ceiling. It was almost sensual the way he touched you, slow and delicate, taking you in even in this state. He was thankful your eyes were closed or you might have seen the red flush on his cheeks.

“Like I got body slammed by a Wookie,” you answered weakly. “Was there a Wookie?” 

He chuckled a bit and shook his head, hair falling into his face, “No,” he said gently, removing his hand and sitting back on his heels, “You’ve been seeing things all day.” 

“Shit,” you cursed with a small laugh. Your eyes finally opened again and you turned your head carefully so it wouldn’t throb. Maybe he was right and you were seeing things because Qimir had changed? The green and brown baggy clothes you were accustomed to were different. He wore jet black sleeveless robes, well structured and they formed to his well-toned body. Had he always been that toned? You let your hand emerge from the warmth of the blanket and pressed your hand against his chest. His gaze was locked on your hand, watching intently as your fingers danced along the folds of his lapels, feeling the surprisingly soft fabric. 

“I-I have to go,” he told you, voice wavering as you touched the bare center of his chest. 

Your fingers were cold but his skin felt as if it was on fire. Qimir’s watchful eyes flickered over to you and your eyes began to droop closed. He took your hand and placed it gently on your chest, but he didn't let go. Carefully leaning in, he pressed his lips to your forehead.

“Stay—” you don’t know what possessed you to say it. You wrapped your hand around his collar again, this time it felt soft like his beloved brown jacket. Another hallucination, but you liked that one. Sure, Qimir had always been handsome, but him in those back robes did you in. Your heart was racing and it wasn’t from the illness. 

 “Eat that when you wake up please,” he whispered against your warm skin. “I won’t be long.” 

You mumbled incoherently and let consciousness slip away as soon as his lips left you. Though it didn’t last long, you woke up once again not knowing how long you slept for. Your eyes slowly opened, and a blurry figure was standing in the doorway. He outstretched his hand, his forearm wrapped in a metal gauntlet that glowed in the moonlight. A large black object flew to his hand. 

You blinked once to sharpen your vision. 

Twice to make sure you weren’t hallucinating again. 

The figure had his back turned to you, that object in his hand was a helmet. You watched as he slipped it over his head, his dark hair covered by the metal and he started to levitate inches off the floor. Those robes looked familiar. Qimir, you thought. But then you giggled to yourself—it couldn't be. 

You were just—hallucinating again. It had to be.

[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Escalating

"Should I really have to suffer for my actions?"

Session 2 of 10|Previous Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Patient Gojo displayed extremely flirtatious and unruly behavior during the first half of his visit. Mentions of escape and kid-napping were noted as well as enforced close proximity with his nurse. Threatening remarks were also made at the end of his lunch in response to mentions of disciplinary action. Patient is scheduled for a bath but is pending the possibility of negative punishment to instill corrective behaviors. 📋Length of Session (w.c): 8.1k out of "i said we will cross that bridge when we get to it 😊" 💊Intake Chart (tags): mild violence but no in-action descriptors, coercion, manipulation, drug use, angst, unwatched close contact and touch, nudity, mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️Doctor's angel’s note: i hope you know what you're doing, Nurse 🎼Waiting room music: Overheated|Billie Eilish

Choose wisely.

Hunger stirs in your tummy, and Gojo's words sit with you through lunch. Your spoon clinks around the bowl, stirring the soup growing colder by the second though the growls from your stomach are too obnoxious to be ignored. But your mind wanders.

You're stuck. Earlier, you were all for serving up justice on a silver platter, but now you're seriously second-guessing your "genius" idea to punish Gojo by making him someone else's problem.

As if anyone would be crazy enough to say yes.

Everyone already avoids his wing like the plague. It's kind of an unspoken fact that you are Gojo's one and only. The only staff he allows near him. Anyone else would be playing with fire.

And if someone was brave enough to willingly throw themselves into the lion's den, they definitely couldn't be new. New to nursing—new to the ward. High expertise was needed here. Someone seasoned—experience which you lacked yourself—otherwise, they wouldn't last a second with Gojo.

It'd be way too easy for him to make them snap, like tossing a bone to a dog.

"Persephone." Yuko brings you out of your coma.

You perk up, instinctively smiling. "Hey, what's up?"

"You tell me," she snorts. "You've been playing with your food like break isn't over in 10 minutes." She touches your arm. "Everything ok?"

It's written all over your face, huh? You could deflate right now.

This is why Yuko is your favorite co-worker. Always reading you like a book without you needing to say a word. Quick to call anything off out.

Leaning back in your chair, you huff, rubbing circles into your temples to relieve the headache you didn't know you had.

"Yeah, yeah," you begin, "It's just—" You stop, her eyes hold so much concern and you've barely opened your mouth. Not sure if you should now because you know what kind of person Yuko is.

And if she knew even half of what you don't tell her during your lunch breaks spent complaining about work, she'd hang Gojo out to dry if she could. She often makes it very clear she hates you have to deal with him at all.

"—I'm just a bit tired. Gojo's scheduled for a bath later, him and two others. Gojo's easy but...I don't know. I feel slower than usual today. Definitely won't get home until late, again, because of all these sponge baths." You cringe at the last part.

Aside from trying to keep Yuko cool, you also didn't want to risk the news getting back to the Director who could take you off of Gojo completely. No one else could take your place. And who knows what would happen if you disappeared from his roster for good?

How would his threats manifest?

Yuko scoffs, waving her hand.

"Gojo and easy do not go together," and you both shake your heads and laugh. "But I get it. You did come in super early."

"Thought there'd be less of us," you sigh.

"Sonya's been on our asses lately, right? But hey, she finally got us all here."

"A little too late. The damage is done," you pout, resting your elbows on the table, realizing you've accidentally grown used to chaos and ever-changing schedule.

You routinely plan ahead to make sure you can stand up when people fall short. Constantly putting yourself on the back burner seems to be a thing that always set you back.

"Sooo, you just need rest, ya? Nothing else? Gojo—" there it goes "—been 'okay' with you lately?"

Your heart skips. "Ya. he isn't so bad today," you lie, "I'd just love to be home on time for once. Maybe even a bit early, I'm soo close. Overtime's been wringing my neck for weeks."

Yuko looks at you with puppy dog eyes. And not in a "I feel sorry for you" kind of way, but one that almost makes you feel bad for not telling her the whole truth.

"Here," she pushes your soup towards you, "How about I do Gojo's bath and you get an early start on my last two? That way you can at least binge that show you won't shut up about later." She smiles.

You immediately protest.

There's no way you can do that to her.

Yuko never even crossed your mind and was far from your first pick, not because she couldn't handle him but because she was your friend. Not just a colleague, but someone you actually cared about more than anyone else in this run-down job even if she didn't feel the same.

She's too good of a person, and you'd be the Devil Incarnate if you let her do something so risky. Especially when you can just suck it up and get it over with.

"Woah, woah, it's just a bath, calm down," she says, taking your hands in hers as you ramble on trying to convince her that you'll be fine or that you'll find someone else.

Burdening her was completely out of the question.

"Who else but me, Seph'? You don't you think I'm as good as you?" And the way she says it, giving you that look she does when you're being stubborn, dares you to challenge her.

Now you really had to think about what to say.

Goddamn it, you regret saying anything at all, but Yuko's so motherly, how could you resist? Hiding from her is impossible, she would've sniffed you out sooner or later.

Easing your pains when she could was her specialty—helping to calm and settle you down when you're quick to blow things out of proportion.

Could this be one of those moments? Or were Gojo's words more than just hot air?

The back and forth was killing you, but the combination of Yuko's reassuring touch and your gurgling stomach put the final nail in the coffin as she reminded you of the time.

Eyes wide, you look at the clock, ticking away faster than you realized, then back at your lukewarm soup.

Denying that you needed help would be silly because technically it was true. You probably should've asked the Director for a little Gojo break long ago, even if just for a few hours a few times a week. It was better than nothing because if you couldn't function, Gojo couldn't be cared for.

And when you really think about it, who better to fill in for you than Yuko?

The gutsy woman has been your rock since you started at the ward, She's had your back, sticking with you through tough times at work when staff constantly dipped in and out of the facility like a rotating door after being unable to handle the job.

A real day one.

Next to you, she's the most competent nurse in these walls, fully equipped with a "take-no-shit" attitude that routinely keeps her patiently in check.

It'd be silly, downright irresponsible to trust anyone else.

Her offer is simply too good to dismiss.

"Thank you, Yuko," you cave, grabbing your spoon and finally allowing yourself to enjoy your meal. "You're...amazing. I don't deserve you."

She looks on happily. "Just promise me you'll take some personal time after this," she insists, worry evident in her voice. "We both know how much you care, but even superheroes need rest."

She's too kind and right in more ways than one.

"Besides, I think Gojo will like me, ya? I'm cool. I'm fun. He'll like a friend of friend, you think?"

Your eyes roll—ya, totally, cool people definitely say they're cool.

You don't know whether to joke back or wave her off, softly smiling at her concern instead before nodding. You vow to make good on your promise and feel a bit lighter knowing your wish for early release will actually come true.

Maybe.

The latest threat to your miracle in the making is Mr. Hampton, who is personally making it his business to drag the already long day by its edges. Almost bringing time to a standstill with the way he's handling his bath.

Enormous and lumbering, the man Yuko usually deals with took his sweet time gathering his things and even longer trekking down the seemingly endless halls leading to the bathing area. Occupying every inch of the space like those massive trucks on the interstate, hogging the road, yet inching along at a pace that makes a snail look like it's in a sprint.

All that was missing were the yellow hazard lights.

Oh no, please, take your time, you think, watching Mr. Hampton clean each limb painstakingly s l o w in a tub that's comically too small for him. You may have been able to rush through Yuko's first patient, but this one wanted all that time back.

His pace resembles a giant's, and his cheerful nonsensical hums echo around the hollow chambers, lulling you to sleep, turning your eyes into bricks under the spell of the melody. Perfect timing for the energy drinks from early to crash you out, tag teaming with the chair beneath you that feels a bit too soft as you lean over the tub, willing the colossal man to hurry up.

Warm water flows over your skin as you scrub circles on his neck, deciding to bite the bullet and take over the bath so he can play with the foamy bubbles, when you hear a blood-curdling scream.

Your entire body goes rigid, shock reverberating through your spine and forcing you to halt as your mind goes blank. But steamy water brings you back to life, drenching your shirt and upper thighs when Mr. Hampton jumps from surprise.

The rude awakening makes you lock in.

The scream. It sounds like...no, you know it came from the west wing...where Gojo is.

And Yuko.

Hurried steps rush past your door, sounds of multidirectional distress and frantic shouts echoing through the corridor—staff members and patients alike swept into a whirlwind of panic.

You're number one, dropping the scrubber and scrambling to help Mr. Hampton out of the tub, hands shaking as he grips them.

A security guard bursts into the room, face ashen and jaw tight.

"Nurse! We need everyone in the west wing, immediately!" The command is sharp, laced with an urgency you've never seen before.

And immediately feel responsible for.

"There's been an incident."

Without another thought, you wrap Mr. Hampton in a towel, trying your best to assure him that everything is fine when your obviously trembling body said nothing was. His confused gaze follows you as you lead him back to his room, the commotion in the air moving him a lot faster than earlier before you rush back out heading straight for the west wing—where chaos reigns supreme.

The usually pristine floors, normally squeaky clean floors due to lack of traffic, are now barely visible. Staff members crowd the familiar hall for the first time since Gojo made it his own, filling the space with more bodies than you were used to and making it difficult to find the source of trouble.

Not like you needed to. The truth is painfully clear.

It's disrespectful even to even pretend you don't know exactly what went wrong, and your heart feels as if it'll burst from your chest any moment now just thinking about it. Crushing guilt wrapped you in its clutches, but it was nothing compared to the pain you might've caused.

You push through the masses, clumsily bumping shoulders, heart beating into your ears making the world seem quiet as you inch closer and closer to disaster. Dragging imaginary shackles on your feet with each step until you all but collapse once you spot it.

Gojo—barely restrained by guards, straitjacket nowhere in sight—standing absolutely furious.

And for the first time today, time seems to slow down, your mouth becoming suddenly dry mouth when you look past him.

Yuko.

Halfway out the door to his room. Sprawled out on the ground. Bruised, unconscious, and no signs of breathing.

Your hands fly to your lips, mouth agape. Murmurs from the crowd swirl around you as attendants rush to Yuko's side, knocking into your pathetic frame as you stand too frozen to move.

They gently pick her up, careful to handle her motionless body and place her on a stretcher. Her usually vibrant face is drained of color, twisting the dagger in your chest when you spot the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Fighting for breath.

Fighting.

It hits you like a hammer.

Someone as kind as her, so full of light, love, and joy, always greeting you with warmth and empathy and capacity every time she sees you, should never have to lift a finger let alone fight for her life. The sight is too much to bear.

Waves of helplessness crash over you and you can't even look at her. Regretting with every ounce of your being that you sent her in your place. Knowing this could happen. Concerned only with your silly wants and needs.

But you're so confused.

The ward should have weakened Gojo—Yuko should have been fine. The only threat Gojo has up his sleeve is mental torture but Yuko might as well be Freud. Her mind is sound, strong.

And that's where you fucked up, forgetting that Gojo's pure strength, especially when he's lost his fucking mind and triggered, is stronger.

Even with his security system in place, the devil was still powerful enough on his own. And like this was some sick and twisted experiment to figure that out, Yuko was the one to pay the price.

"I warned, I WARNED YOU!" Gojo's words pierce the overlapping voices like a sword, drawing everyone's attention to the strange interaction between the two of you. "I don't like to be touched by strangers, Nurse." Guards struggle to restrain him as he tugs and pulls away.

All eyes fall on you and you can feel the tense stares. The unspoken judgment.

Why was Yuko here in the first place?Where was Seph’?How’d he get out?How did this happen? 

You don’t know if the murmurs are real or only in your head, but the effect is all the same, making you wish you could completely vanish.  You stand like a deer in headlights—and they're so fucking bright.

Gojo brims with malice and amusement, chaotic energy pulsing from the hellish man and threatening to send sparks flying. As if he's daring someone to be brave and push the button.

But despite his outward display of dominance, the pure rage on his face making you feel sick to your stomach about every decision you've ever made, something...uncertain lurks behind those fiery eyes.

Something like...apprehension.

Like he knew he had done something wrong.

Words escape you, as if anything even needs to or could be said. But fear and guilt soon turn to anger and threatens to consume you. Ready to eat you alive and spit out the bones with disgust.

You are not a victim.

You have no right to stand here, spineless, shocked, or feeling even a little sorry for yourself.

Your fists clench as you hold back tears. 

What was done was done. And someone needed to pay.

But you exhale, thoughts shifting to Yuko as you take a good look around at the results of what happened the last time you decided to punish Gojo. All of your actions, even now, rooted in selfishness. Like you've learned nothing.

You push down the knot growing in your stomach and turn away to follow the medics.

Your friend needed you more than you needed revenge.

And Gojo didn't deserve any more of your attention, even if it meant risking your job or even your life to turn your back on him.

And there's nothing Gojo hates more than being ignored.

Struggled and strained noises grow louder. Guards tighten their grip on the fuming man whose raw strength outnumbered thousands of them even without his cursed energy.

You look back, their determination to keep him contained makes you nervous—you don't want anyone else to get hurt and Gojo knows that.

You're painfully aware that your decisions have put you in this position, watching the guards' valiant but increasingly pointless effort to prevent Gojo from causing further harm.

But it's an obviously losing fight, and the unease on their faces is unmistakably clear.

You wonder why they don't just run like hell.

"Let's go," a guard barks, but Gojo remains fixed in place. Moving a boulder would be easier.

"No, I'm filthy," Gojo protests, smirking, "And if I don't have my bath soon, there will be hell to pay."

He sees no one else in the room, eyes locked only on you, his expression a menacing promise that would send anyone else running for the hills. A look that says, "Try that shit again, and there will be casualties instead of mercy."

Reinforcements are called but it'll never be enough. Not even the goddamn military. Gojo...is the strongest, after all.

"Stop this."

Your cry freezes the room, plunging everything into a tense silence.

You hesitate, fuck, what should you do?

What can you do? No one else can suffer—no one else should suffer. Because of you.

You take a deep, shaky breath, silently apologizing to Yuko.

"I'll do it," you say firmly, "Just stop this and...and I'll give you your bath. Please—" The sharpest pang you've ever felt cuts through you. "—just don't hurt anyone else."

Pathetic.

But necessary.

He looks into your pleading eyes in surprise, amazement even, then smiles.

The submission in your voice sounded better than he could ever imagine. Like sweet music feeding his already inflated ego.

The guards exchange uneasy glances, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Gojo's strength is undeniable, and it's evident that restraining him forever is not possible.

And you know offering to give him what he wants is risky as hell...but this was your doing. Your mess to clean up.

You squeeze your sweaty palms and give a decisive nod, signaling to the guards to let him go. They hesitate, then reluctantly agree and step back, leaving Gojo standing smugly before you.

You close your eyes and breathe, hating the idea of looking at him, but needing to stay strong. For Yuko. And everyone else in the ward.

Gojo's satisfied grin says it all.

Let's get this over with.

The squeaking of your shoes has never been this loud, each echo bouncing off the empty halls and reminding you of how alone you are.

Alone—with a psychopath.

A bit more docile, doped-up psychopath but, the man could probably still rip someone's head off if he wanted to.

Still Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.

But he also needed to compromise, and you refused to be alone with him again unless he took something stronger. Otherwise, it would be you, all the guards in the ward, and a pay-per-view premiere of his bath time.

He knew he had to agree because his ass is not for free, but only if you took it as well.

You blinked, hard.

You knew he would be skeptical—hell, it could be poison, and he wouldn’t blame you. But to suggest something so ridiculous?

"Half, then," he said, as if that made his suggestion any less idiotic, but, surprisingly, as you waited for your supervisor to dismiss the insane idea, the back and forth with Gojo actually didn't save you. And there was no need to ask why. The entire ward shot daggers at you any time someone walked by now.

She reassured you that you'd be fine, the mild tranquilizer would be out of your system by the end of the day, then patted your back as if to say, "lay in the bed you made."

It felt unreal, holding the familiar pill between your fingers, one you were used to dishing out but now had to take.

With a quick snap, you broke it in half, holding the half-pill out to the leering man. Gaze unwavering, he leaned forward and parted his lips, waiting.

You took a deep breath and placed them both on your tongues, but he couldn't pass up this opportunity to feel you and closed his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.

But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tingles shooting up your arm as you swallowed without needing the water you had set aside, a confusing mix of emotions churning as it spread through the rest of your body.

He made good on his promise and swallowed his own, still watching you with a knowing look. And damn him, he's probably still thinking about it.

The guards carefully lead you and Gojo to his private bathroom—they're more there for show than for protection, but you'll take what you can get, and they keep a firm grip on his replacement straitjacket.

You trail behind, mind buried with thoughts of what to say once you're really alone with him.

The door shuts behind you followed by the familiar sound of a series of locks clicking shut. "We'll be right outside," one of the guards mutters, eyes shifting between you and Gojo. A stereotypical hint lacing his voice, but even he probably doesn't believe it.

"Perv," Gojo sneers. And laughs, but you don't find a damn thing funny, keys to his jacket digging into your palms as you spin around the face him, furious. Debating on whether to slap him, kick him, or knock his teeth out. Or be particularly evil and just let him sit in the shower, fully restrained and drenched in cold water. A move you know would do no good but show him exactly how done you are with his shit.

"That isn't funny. None of this is funny. You've hurt someone—you hurt my friend."

His laugh fades, smug expression slipping from his face. Even you're surprised.

...oh shit.

You're actually confronting him.

The intense words burn through his usual arrogance, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you.

Then, for a fleeting second, his face does something weird.

Something you haven't seen before as his eyebrows draw together. Is that...regret?

"I'm sorry."

The record scratches.

...the hell is this??

You squint at him.

The words were muttered, reluctant, but there they were, hanging in the air between you.

"It...won't happen again."

And he's serious, the same seriousness you see when his heart races when you take his vitals...but why? Because an apology? From him?? Unheard of.

Gojo has said some nasty things to you in the past that you've immediately scolded him for but he's never apologized. He'd make a note when certain jokes didn't land, but he never took them back, preferring to cut out his own tongue rather than waste his breath being sorry.

You know better than to take anything Gojo says at face value, but...what the fuck??? You almost feel offended.

He has to be joking, fucking with you to dig even deeper under your skin.

Or is he?

Now you don't know how to feel.

He's so good at that. Stealing the air back and hanging his words in them. Tempting you to pause and even consider if he truly meant them. If he could mean them. The mind games are endless.

But then, the familiar cockiness returns, along with that smile that twists your stomach into knots.

"Now," he says, strutting towards the stalls, "let's get this bath started, shall we?" And his easy, but confident steps call you to follow, a stark reminder of who you're dealing with. But he never knows when to quit. "Or should I really have to suffer for my actions?" and the bastard pouts.

Though you know he's being sarcastic and not to feed into his taunts, you can't help but wonder—what would suffering even look like for someone like Gojo?

Violence? Physical pain? A slow and agonizingly painful death?

But the guy is damn near invincible. What on earth could hurt him?

Whatever it was, it would have to be his absolute worst nightmare, but nothing comes to mind other than frustration.

Damn it, you have to keep making choices.

Return his energy or keep it professional? Tolerance or revenge?

"Apologizing won't cut it," you snap and gesture at his jacket, wondering how the hell he slipped out of the first one without leaving a trace. "And no tricks, or those guards will be back in here faster than you can tell another joke."

Smooth.

Gojo sighs sooo dramatically, like he can see straight through your little kitty claws. "Fine, fine. Loosen up," he drags, "I won't cause any trouble. Just don't go getting any ideas now, Nurse." He finishes with a wink.

He's insufferable—but despite your smoldering anger, tendrils of doubt still creep in.

Your fingers slightly tremble as you begin to unfasten his straps, but each click feels a bit like victory. A fragile illusion of your 'control'—at least for now because at the end of the day, Gojo had chosen you to listen to. And after today, he's sure you won't forget there isn't room for anyone else.

The jacket falls with a heavy thud, your eyes immediately scanning his upper body in search of any signs of injury or stress. The cascading bruises on his arms surprise you.

They feel so feeble in your hands, the jarring evidence of him not as invincible as he seems. Pale, weak, and resting between your fingers. Devoid of the power that makes him so feared.

"Never seen bruises before," and he tilts his head, "at least not on me"

You hope Yuko was at least partly responsible for the marks on the villain, but they appear self-inflicted, and he's not as mobile.

Fuck, now you'll have to bathe him too. But it's strange, seeing him like this. Even weirder knowing that he could still do damage in this state and you can't shake the feeling of this temporary 'truce'. If it isn't obvious by now, you've learned that Gojo always has something up his sleeve.

Warm water soothes you a bit, flowing over your fingers into the large white tub—pristine, imported from somewhere far away and standing on decorative claw feet. Your eyes wouldn't stop rolling the first time you saw it, completely annoyed with Gojo's over-the-top alterations and sense of style, but you'd be a liar if you said you never thought about sinking your body into it.

The best you could do was cope with the little porcelain tub in your apartment, and you get lost thinking about how you'd love to take a long, hot, and steamy bath when you get home—if you'll even have the energy. There's no way you'll be leaving early now, not like you deserve it, and feel sick even thinking about it. You doubt you'll even have a job tomorrow.

You look so defeated Gojo thinks, sauntering forward, lifting the hem of his shirt. You turn away, focusing instead on the temperature of the water but the rustling fabric as he pulls the shirt over his head and pants to the ground sends heat to your cheeks.

He certainly isn't lacking in physique, even in his current state, but still, you wonder how such a slim but toned frame could be so...powerful.

Could you be more obvious? Your flickering eyes are so telling, darting between him and the water, but he catches your gaze from the corner of his eye as if he's read your mind. So cute trying to hide away your thoughts.

You toss in his loofah, "Well...go on. Your water's ready." But Gojo can only grin, amused by your attempts to look away despite seeing his muscled frame a number of times. Still managing to fluster you.

"Your shirt," he eyes your top, "Your pants. Looks like you've already started without me."

The water stains from earlier sit beautifully across your chest, not yet fully dry, and drawing his eyes to your semi-erect nips.

His teeth tug at his bottom lip, eyes shamelessly raking over your hefty chest. "Always such a tease, aren't you, Nurse?"

You grit your teeth, cursing the swirling conflict in your easy heart, fully aware of the thin line between professionalism and this game of intimacy he just refuses to turn off. Everything was always a game no matter the circumstances. And he loves to push your buttons.

"Just get in, Gojo," you order, and after what feels like an eternity, the silence is broken by splashing water as he steps into the bath.

He slowly sinks in, sighing at the warmth of the water. Ringlets of steam engulf him, almost making his silky white hair disappear with it.

His arms string over the rim of the tub, a look of relaxation resting on his face as if he's had a long, hard day. You resist the urge to slap it off.

Sudsy bubbles form from the solution you pour under the faucet, hoping to shield your eyes from his body. You've seen enough today and expect the mini-rebellious act to piss him off, but as the bubbles grow, so do his eyes. He picks up a handful and actually starts playing with them.

"Nice touch," he adds, blowing them right into your face, and you watch with a tight lip as he decorates the bathroom with them, knowing you'll be the one to clean it all up.

He sits a crown on his head and gives himself a bubble beard, nipping your nose with some that you're quick to wipe away.

His pale eyes flutter, settling on you in a curious way.

He leans, arms flexing over the edge—steam-slicked sweat dripping down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away. "I'm ready for my sponge bath," he says, and if it was hard to take him seriously before, it's damn near impossible now—especially with this ridiculous bubble mustache.

Sickening, him managing to still be so playful, so unserious, at a time like this.

You know Gojo's unhinged, yeah, quote, "mentally unwell and a literal danger to society, tf did you think??", but to nearly take someone's life and then make jokes afterward?

God, you feel so stupid, walking around him like you were the shit but with the wrong guard up the whole time, playing right into his hands and accidentally rewarding this grown-ass man who likes to play with bubbles.

The reality of your circumstances replays in your head, the story of how you ended up here, coddling this monster. Still confused as hell as to why it had to be you.

But then again, this was your job...right? To heal. To help those who can't help themselves. To offer redemption, no matter how twisted they seem.

Loofah in hand, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the 400th time today. "Keep talking like that and I'll stop, Gojo," you say, reluctantly drenching the tool in soap before gently washing his back.

He sinks into your touch, closing his eyes and letting his body completely rest on the cool cast iron, breathing. Feeling like he's won no matter what you say because your scrubs feel like magic.

Across his arms and over his broad shoulders, you work your way down, bubbles glistening in your trail as you're careful not to miss a single inch of skin but don't linger too long.

Every now and then, you catch glimpses of his marked skin between the foam and because you hate yourself, your brain absolutely refuses to give you a break. You have to give kudos to the dedication to his craft. The muscle definition, the scar tissue telling stories of battles won. Evidence of his past before corruption. Everything it takes to be a hero.

It's unsettling, yet fascinating, the polarity between his beauty and his monstrous deeds.

This is another first for you, this level of care. Gojo usually just hops into the shower and takes care of himself as you wait outside—easy and thorough but always taking his sweet time, all while loudly singing some annoying song that inevitably gets stuck in your head.

But after today, it'll be impossible to trust him or you again, and the hushed whispers as the guards walked you both to the restrooms made that abundantly clear.

The pitiful thoughts seep into the way you hesitantly clean him, moving down to his chest and abs and making sure to avoid more sensitive areas, but the malicious glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Whatsamatter, Nurse?" Gojo taunts, feeling you slow around his lower region, "Afraid of gettin' too close?" And you can't believe you're praying for a speedy recovery so he can handle this himself.

You ignore his comment, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. You're humiliated enough as it is and he can sense it, mocking you with a laugh.

"You're so uptight. Can't you just relax and enjoy the view?"

You want to scrub his cocky brow right off his face. "Just doing my job," you mutter, twice squeezing the loofah that feels a little funny in your hand as the soapy water rinses his chest.

The water feels heavenly on his skin, but the subtle change in your movements makes his brows furrow. Slowing, more deliberate, heavy as if you're wading through molasses. You keep adjusting your grip but the material feels so strange—the texture almost too soft like it could melt into your palm.

Your breath catches when you brush his skin, not realizing how close your fingers drifted to the edge of the sponge, and though it was only a second, it sends an unexpected jolt through his chest.

The muscle relaxers. How could you have already forgotten, you both think.

But Gojo, ever observant, doesn't miss a thing.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. "Feeling a little funny, Nurse?" his velvet voice teases.

"I'm fine," you lie, though you couldn't be less certain as the muscles in your hands start to relax more than you intended, the sponge gliding over his abs, down his sides, rhythm almost hypnotic and making the man's head fall back. You try to push through the haze, to finish quickly and be free of him, to try to regain your slipping control, but you're in a losing battle against numbness and heightened awareness.

ANd God, he has to bite his lip at your touch that feels so intense, a sensation too good to keep to himself that you obviously need to stop being such a tight-ass.

You need to loosen up in a way that medicine can't help. And Gojo knows just the trick.

He licks his lips, tongue curling over his canine before splashing a wave of water on you in one swoop.

Saying you gasp is an understatement as the steamy wash drenches your face and front once again. You've been hit not once, but twice in a day—a new personal record.

Instinctively, you reach up to shield yourself, the loofah slipping from your hand, but Gojo is quicker, wrapping his hands around your wrists and holding you in place.

A scream prepares to surge from your body when Gojo maneuvers both of your wrists into one hand and places a finger to your lips.

"Ssssh ssh ssh ssh ssh," he hushes, his voice a little too calm, "I'm not going to hurt you." He swipes a lone droplet hanging from your eyelash. "I just want you to listen."

You freeze, nerves on fire as you're forced into this close proximity for the second time today. Inches away from his face that softens.

Though you can easily call for help, you know better than to argue—he knows you know better but he never felt threatened in the first place.

Besides, he can feel your breathing slowing, the effects of the pill combined with his firm hold sending a faint buzz from your wrists to your stomach. His finger remains on your lips as he brings his closer.

"Now," his eyes flicker to your bottom lip, "You're so very good at your job, Nurse." He smoothly pulls it with his thumb. "That's why I like you. You're thorough but real. Just what I need to keep me sane."

Sane?

"Sane," he repeats like he's heard your thoughts. "Believe it or not, you keep me grounded...like a good boy. Be proud, not a single soul here or anywhere else can compare to my strength, let alone deal with me yet...here you are." He looks at you like you're a marvel.

"You can handle that...can't you?"

Words fail you. This feels rhetorical. Why does he keep torturing you like this? What is it about you?

You haven't really thought about it since your first few weeks with him but now he's forcing you to think about the little 'power' he's given you that he can easily snatch back.

What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?

You can't handle it, any of it, any of this.

You hesitate, unsure of what to say but know it could never be the truth.

Gojo must sense it because he leans closer, his breath warm on your cheek.

"If you leave, I just might crack completely, beauty." A breath you didn't realize you were holding slips. "How do you think everyone else will fare against me then, hmm?"

Gojo knows he's a prodigy, yet he still manages to surprise himself sometimes, eyes lingering over the spots on your uniform soaked through just enough to make the fabric cling—perfect aim.

Ice shoots up your spine from the heat of his unadulterated gaze, but you refuse to let him see you falter. He almost feels a prick from the daggers you throw with your eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that, Nurse," and he purrs, thumbs grazing your wrists in a mockingly gentle touch. "We all have our boundaries, right? I thought communication was key in a relationship."

"Let go of me," you find your voice, "We're done here."

Gojo slightly tilts his head.

Look at you calling the shots, he thinks. So strong, so very serious.

"God I can't help it," he breathes, "You're so fun to mess with."

He could laugh in your face, have his way with you, and show you that your resistance means nothing.

Instead, he slowly releases your wrists and lies back against the tub. "I know you think about it—there's nothing wrong with a little fun...right?" and though the connection is severed, you don't know if it's the drugs or just him that makes his amplified touch linger as you sheepishly rub your wrists.

Gojo watches you blush red—thoughts you didn't know lived within you rushing to the forefront as if he's pushed a button.

Grimy, raw, salacious, unwanted thoughts of forbidden fruit, wandering hands, and stolen touches in the dark. Wondering what his idea of "fun" was like under the sheets. With a psycho named Gojo.

You feel like you should throw up in disgust but the nausea never comes, instead you burn between your legs.

Fuck, you've got to get out of here.

You draw a breath, forcing away the torturous daydreams and quickly finish his bath.

"You should rest," you firmly say and pull the plug to let the tub drain. "And don't expect any more favors from me."

He sits up slow, his expression stone-cold as he slicks back his wet hair. Then he smiles. "I promise. Now dry me off?" he quips.

You ignore his request, swiftly handing him a towel before he can flash you. Gruffing, you lower to your knees and begin drying the floor of his messes, hoping to distract you from your questionable sanity.

Rustling fabric fills the chamber as he dries off, and when you figure it's safe, you look up to a nude Gojo. Still dripping with bubbles, hair plastered to his derpy face, and toned muscles, all the muscles, presenting themselves in all their glory.

The only things dry are his damn hands.

He throws the towel over over his shoulder, sauntering towards you with a wicked grin.

"Well, aren't you gonna help me put this thing back on?" He nods at the jacket he knows is more bullshit than security. "Don't want you getting all worked up again."

The first time your brain registered that Gojo was flirting with you was on your third day as his nurse.

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Gojo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It was the second time he'd noticed how sluggish you looked while tending to him, suggesting with a grin that you must be quite the party animal.

Ha. If only.

You tsked, tossing his bedsheets into the hamper, and assured him that your sleepy eyes and dragging feet were the result of long hours and running on fumes. Having time for fun was just a dream.

"I don't get out much myself," he says, alluding to the situation he's in, wearing sarcasm like a necklace. "I love a good night in as much as anyone else but, I don't know. The stuffiness hasn't grown on me yet."

You tugged the collar of your scrubs—the air did feel a bit thick, like the room hadn't been aired out in ages and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sitting in it—how he could. That alone would be enough to drive you up a wall.

Sunlight flickered in your eyes, and you raised your hand to block it, noticing the small window perched above his chair.

"Ah, let's open this then," you said, walking over and wrestling with the ancient wood for a moment before finally pulling the creaky flap up to the ceiling.

Standing on your tiptoes to reach it, a sliver of your midriff peeked out, but what captured his attention most was the way the sun rays washed your face. You scrunched your nose, the breeze sending wisps of your hair to tickle it, and he imagined the feel of them between his fingers.

The view was beautiful, you thought, hands gripping the warm bars. Trees surrounded the vast area, stretching out as far as you could see, the pathway to civilization completely covered in dense forest from this angle.

You never realized how high up his ward was—or how long the drop was from here.

"Too bad I'm not small enough to slip through those bars." He rubbed his stomach. "But you know me, 'Mr. BigBack.'"

He joked around as he usually did, looking to trigger your defenses, but your sentiment was...odd.

This was the first time anyone had cared to do something so simple for Gojo. And the closest anyone had gotten to him without their knees buckling.

The first two days of your trial, the Director had guards posted right outside of Gojo's door, their presence a constant reminder to stay alert and maintain a safe distance from the convict and Gojo was positive the mental barrier would keep a wall between you forever.

But then you laughed. A real laugh. Snickery and cute. Finding his joke funny instead of threatening.

It surprised him, that sound. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again.

"Who knew you could bring so much light into this place?"

Later at lunch, you sat with Yuko, having your usual midday catch-up. You never start with yours but she, like most people in the ward now, was absolutely dying to hear about how you were dealing with the villain of the century.

"He's actually not so bad...yet. Corny, but," you took a pondering breath, "He kind of thanked me today?"

She immediately scoffed and waved you off and who could blame her?

You were the anomaly he chose to show mercy to and now he was thanking you??

Being polite was too far of a stretch to believe, you must have been mistaken. But when you gave her the deets on why he'd do such a thing, she nearly choked on her apple. "He said that??"

"Ya?" You patted her back with a concerned look.

"Watch out, Casanova." She cleared her throat and did a nervous laugh.

Her comment threw you off for the rest of lunch, but when you thought about it later that night while surfing for new shows, a light bulb went off.

He flirted with you.

Thinking it was just another one of those literal dry-humor jokes or simply gratitude for making his stay a little less crappy, it flew right over your head. You always feel warm inside when you help people so you didn't think too much about it.

To you, it was just a kudos. Nothing more.

But the way the stands in front of you now is everything.

As bold and brash as it gets.

Fuck. Me.

And your body betrays you, sending all of the vulnerable sensations you've been fighting to suppress from your soaking chest, tingling wrists, aching thighs, and heavy breath, straight to your throbbing clit.

Air escapes you and you scramble to grab your supplies and leave.

Enough is enough. The guards outside can restrain him and escort him back to his room for all you care. You just have to get out of there.

Away from him.

Away from temptation.

Hot, overwhelming, guilty, mentally and physically unstable temptation.

In the quiet of the hallway a level below Gojo's ward, you lean against a wall taking deep breaths, completely disgusted with yourself.

How are you supposed to keep dealing with this, with him?

He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing you to the edge until there's nowhere else to go. You can only imagine the hell the nurses he didn't like went through.

Taking care of him isn't getting any easier, and now you were fucking up and making mistakes.

But you're the only one who can do this. Who must.

So suck it up. Play along, Stop thinking only of yourself. Pretend.

Pretend.

Pretend?

...

What terrifies you the most is the thought that you may not have to.

You keep your scrambled thoughts to yourself when you're called into your Director's office at the end of the day.

You tell him the same story you told Yuko and take full responsibility for what happened, blaming it on exhaustion and needing a break. Swearing to never let it happen again.

By some miracle, you get to keep your job, though your one wish to leave early ended up costing you an hour and a half of unpaid overtime, and almost a friendship.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed—images of the day, the ward, Yuko, flooding your thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. You tell yourself that it's all just the guilt talking, just anxiety gnawing at your edges.

But then there's Gojo.

The most prominent one of all.

Staring you in the face with lifeless eyes and a ghostly smile. Tugging on your moral strings like a puppet.

When you close your eyes, you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for you, a lurer in the shadows awaiting your every move.

Leave it. Leave it. Le—

You find yourself scrolling through your phone, deep-diving the web for information on your tormentor.

His past, his affiliations, anything to tell you who Gojo was, and who he is now.

The man is an anomaly.

Not much is known about him outside of mainstream news and internet rumors.

He's just this guy that kind of popped out of nowhere in the worst way possible. Conveniently on the tail of what could have been the most devastating incident in the history of Tokyo.

The media says he's a hero gone rogue but not much else. They damned him to hell and that was that. Even the Director disclosed very little about him during your briefing and you weren't allowed access to his files or records because it's all 'confidential'.

Nothing.

The more you search, you less that comes up. Not even silly conspiracy theories that you definitely thought would be riddling Reddit. The longer you scroll, the more you find yourself beginning to question your own sanity. Your interest. Sweet little buds of obsession.

Even though you hated taking it earlier, you actually need the pill now more than ever to relax, sleeping eluding you and mind wandering to imaginary scenarios as you stare at the ceiling. 

Tomorrow, you'll have to face Gojo again. And the day after that and the day after that and every day after.

In between your nearly non-existent off days, you'll have to seem him and decide what face you want to put on.

Because you simply cannot walk away.

After all, he's right—no one else can handle him like you can.

extended angel's note:

when i originally decided to make this into short story, i had no plans on using a y/n perspective. it was just going to feature an OC name i’ve used in stories before, named Persephone, buuuut i decided to wanted to keep it immersive and include no physical descriptors/personality specifics bc i knew i wanted to upload it to tumblr. 

to keep it reader-friendly, yk? 

alas, Persephone has had her claws in me the entire time i’ve been editing and said with her whole chest that i couldn't just dismiss her like that chile. so i decided changed the perspective but keep her name in place of y/n. 

you won’t see it too often in the story bc it’s not super significant or said a lot in general, bUT it is relevant for a certain moment later in the story. you’ll know when you know 🤭. 

anyway, hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. and def feel free to mentally plug your name when you see it to keep yourself grounded into the story.

tag list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @kiwismoother @rune1920 @blkkizzat @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @ressyshi @startatdawn

@khenanadeche @heijihatsutori @inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk

@rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping @sims-4lifers @bratidol @rh-tg1

@hyunsuks-beanie @n1vi @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111 @supsiii

@natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko @strawberrymilkshakes-posts

@nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow @sxnkuna

@misoyuh @lupitalove @sebastianlover @gojosatorubrainrot @sleepiebunniee

@mmmidkman @theonecrackhead @thathorsegotpoobrain @iveivory @samistar

@yuuan-66 @gojoslefttoenail @soyalovestoyap @winkwonks-world @thebiggestsimpforyou 

[iconchae]

HOLD MY GAZE ➽ P.JS/JAY | 18+

pairings: non idol au! boyfriend jay × fem! reader

synopsis: jay challenges you to a game where the first one to break eye contact has to grant the other's wish. but the game ends up turning into a love making session.

genre: fluff and smut

warnings: smut so mdni, established relationships, making out, contains cuss words, nsfw, kisses, protected sex, not proofread so i'm sorry if there are any mistakes, gentle dom!, pet names, teasing, boob play, everything is consensual! lmk if i missed anything.

word count: 4.57k

a/n: i’m still learning to make smuts so just a little reminder that what you read below might not be perfect. (requests are open)

You flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, eyes glued to Jay as he sat at his desk, fingers flying over his laptop keyboard.

The blue light from the screen cast a faint glow on his face, highlighting his furrowed brows as he focused on work. It felt like he’d been at it for hours, and the room was filled with the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clicking of keys.

“Baby!” you whined, your voice cutting through the quiet like a plea. You hugged your knees to your chest, the soft fabric of your pajamas brushing against your skin, hoping he’d finally tear his gaze away from the screen and give you a moment of his attention.

Jay responded with a distracted hum, barely glancing up, his eyes still locked on his laptop. You watched him intently, the way his hair fell over his forehead, the subtle movement of his lips as he muttered something to himself while working.

It was adorable, really, but you couldn't help the pang of loneliness that washed over you. It was as if he was a thousand miles away, even though he was sitting right there.

Your thoughts began to spiral — why couldn’t he just look at you? Was he getting tired of you? You were in a live-in relationship for almost four years, but lately, you felt like a ghost in your own home.

“Am I ugly?” you blurted out, your voice breaking slightly. The question hung in the air, heavy and unexpected, pulling Jay out of his work-induced trance.

Jay’s hands paused mid-type, the rhythm of his fingers on the keyboard suddenly halting. He turned his head slowly, his eyes locking onto your pouting face.

Your lips quivered as you tried to keep it together, and the vulnerability in your gaze tugged at his heart. He didn’t even bother saving his work; the laptop was pushed aside, almost forgotten, as he shifted his full attention to you.

He moved closer, his knees brushing against yours as he reached out, his fingers gently cupping your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin in slow, soothing strokes, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

Jay’s eyes searched yours, a soft frown tugging at his lips as he tried to make sense of your sudden insecurity. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern. “Why would you think that?”

You shrugged, your gaze falling to the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “Because…” you started, your voice cracking with the weight of unspoken feelings.

“You’re always busy, Jay. I miss you, even when you’re right here.” You bit your lip, feeling a surge of sadness flood your chest. The silence between you was filled with unsaid words and lingering doubts.

Jay’s face softened, a mix of regret and tenderness washing over him. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch light and careful, as if you were made of glass.

“That’s not true,” he whispered, his voice earnest and filled with a gentle conviction. “You’re the prettiest girl in the entire world to me.”

You scoffed softly, rolling your eyes as you pushed his hand away, turning your face from him. “Liar,” you muttered, trying to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

Your shoulders tensed, a stubborn wall going up, even though your heart ached for the reassurance he was trying to give.

Jay sighed, the sound low and resigned, yet there was a glimmer of determination in his eyes. He knew he had been caught up in work, and the realization stung.

Without another word, he reached out, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. Your back pressed against his chest, his heartbeat steady against your shoulder blades as he rested his chin on top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, the warmth of his breath tickling your skin. “I’ll do better. I promise.” He squeezed you a little tighter, hoping that his embrace would say what words couldn’t — that he loved you, that he saw you, and that you were far from forgotten.

Jay’s arms gently pulled you closer, shifting you on the couch so that you faced him, his warm hands resting on your waist.

As he turned you, the faint creak of the couch filled the space, the only sound breaking the quiet between you. You found yourself staring directly into his eyes, their depth pulling you in, the sincerity there clear and undeniable.

“I love you, you know that,” he whispered, his voice soft and low, like a secret meant just for you. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, lingering as if trying to transfer all his unspoken affection through that single touch.

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of frustration, your thoughts still clouded with doubt. “You love your work more,” you muttered, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone. You shifted slightly, your hands fidgeting in your lap as your eyes darted away, avoiding his gaze.

Jay sighed, his expression softening, a quiet acknowledgment that you were right, at least in part. “I might give it more time,” he admitted, brushing his thumb gently across your cheek, his touch feather-light, “but that doesn’t mean I love it more.”

You rolled your eyes, still unconvinced, and the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at your lips. “Whatever you say,” you replied, the tension between you lingering like an unspoken promise. The room seemed to close in, the silence stretching, filled only with the sound of your mingled breaths.

Then, Jay’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he tried to lighten the mood. His lips curled into a playful smile, his fingers tracing small, absentminded circles on your hip. “Let’s play a game,” he proposed, his voice taking on a teasing edge. “We hold each other's gaze. Whoever looks away or blinks first has to fulfill the winner’s request.”

You narrowed your eyes, assessing his challenge. There was that familiar spark of competitiveness between you, one that always kept things interesting. “Well… okay,” you agreed, the corner of your mouth lifting in a slight grin as you squared your shoulders, determined to win.

And so, the two of you locked eyes. It started slow, steady, a silent battle of wills. You felt your heartbeat quicken, a light flutter in your chest as the intensity between you grew. You were confident; after all, you had a prize in mind—a quiet evening wrapped in his arms, sharing stories and gentle kisses.

But Jay had other plans. He watched you with an unwavering focus, his gaze filled with a mix of tenderness and something darker, a lingering heat that sent a shiver down your spine.

The seconds ticked by, the playful contest turning into something far more intimate. Each moment stretched longer than the last, the tension building, your breaths growing shallow.

After what felt like an eternity, your eyes started to itch, the sting of fatigue creeping in. You blinked. A quiet, involuntary action, but it sealed your defeat.

You groaned softly, the sound barely escaping your lips, a frustrated exhale of “no way I lost.” Jay’s expression softened into concern as he noticed the brief discomfort, his thumb brushing lightly across your brow.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, voice laced with genuine worry, his hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, his eyes scanning your face to make sure the itch was nothing more than a fleeting inconvenience.

You nodded, the faint irritation already forgotten, replaced by the renewed sense of playful anticipation. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, the warmth lingering like a promise before his voice dropped lower, a whisper that sent a rush of heat through you. “Now you’d grant my wish, right?”

You swallowed, your heart pounding against your ribs. The playful tone in his voice was unmistakable, but there was an underlying seriousness that made your skin tingle. “I guess?” you replied with a nervous laugh, your cheeks flushing as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Haha…”

Jay’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to a murmur that made your breath hitch. “You’re on birth control, right?” he asked, the question so quietly spoken that it felt like he was guarding the moment, keeping it private and sacred between the two of you.

Your breath caught, your eyes widening slightly at the sudden shift. Your mind raced, and your face warmed under the intensity of his gaze. “I—” you stammered, every coherent thought fleeing from your mind as his proximity sent your senses into overdrive.

Finally, you nodded, biting your lip, feeling the heat of a blush creeping up your neck.

“Perfect.” His smile turned into something more wicked, more daring, and before you could react, he scooped you up in a swift, effortless motion.

Your legs dangled as he cradled you in his arms, bridal style, his grip secure and firm. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers brushing against the back of his hair as you gazed up at him, caught in the storm of his gaze.

Jay’s eyes never left yours, and in that moment, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, bound by a shared breath and a promise of what was to come.

The look he gave you was intense, filled with all the things he couldn’t quite say, and you felt your heart race, a thrilling mix of excitement and anticipation coursing through you.

Jay’s footsteps were soft but deliberate as he carried you into the dimly lit bedroom.

The door clicked shut behind him, the gentle thud of it closing barely audible over the faint hum of the night.

He maneuvered through the room with practiced ease, his body warm against yours, his arms cradling you securely.

His eyes, now accustomed to the darkness, found the light switch and flicked it off with his foot. The room plunged into a comforting obscurity, a setting you both cherished for these intimate moments.

The darkness wrapped around you like a soft, velvety cloak, heightening your senses and the anticipation between you.

Jay lowered you onto the bed with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the moment. The mattress gave a quiet creak as you settled onto it, the softness beneath you a stark contrast to the hard warmth of his body.

He hovered above you, his breath warm on your skin as his fingers brushed gently against your cheek. His touch was feather-light, a mere whisper of sensation that made your skin tingle.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, the tenderness in his touch making your heart flutter. His lips then trailed a path down to your cheek, his kiss lingering, savoring the closeness.

As he finally reached your lips, his kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate. The kiss was both a promise and a claim, a melding of lips and emotions that spoke volumes.

His bottom lip was between yours, a playful yet fervent tug that made you gasp softly into his mouth. Jay’s moan was a low, vibrating rumble that resonated against your lips, an involuntary sound of pleasure that made your pulse quicken.

Your fingers moved deftly to his shirt, unbuttoning it one by one. Each button released a new expanse of his toned torso, your touch light and exploratory. You could feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, each brush of your hand eliciting a shiver of excitement from him.

As you caressed his chest, your fingers traced the ridges and planes of his muscles, making him moan softly into your mouth.

Jay’s hands, equally eager, moved with purpose as he fumbled with the buttons of your pajama top. The fabric parted with ease under his touch, and as his hands slipped beneath the material, he continued to kiss you fervently.

His tongue flicked out to taste and explore, the rhythm of his kisses matching the pulse of desire coursing through both of you.

The heat between you was palpable, the air thick with the electric charge of anticipation. Each kiss, each touch was a testament to the depth of your connection, a silent conversation of longing and love.

As he slowly removed the last barrier between your skin and his, the room seemed to dissolve into the dark cocoon of your shared intimacy, where every touch was amplified and every kiss lingered just a moment longer.

Jay’s eyes were tender as they met yours, glistening with a mix of regret and vulnerability. “I’m sorry for not giving you the time you deserve,” he murmured softly, his voice almost breaking as he pressed gentle, lingering kisses to your cheeks.

Each touch of his lips was a silent apology, a promise of more to come.You tilted your head slightly, letting his warmth envelop you. “You had your reasons,” you whispered, your voice a soft, soothing murmur.

His head dipped into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. The kisses there were delicate at first but soon grew more intense, transforming into soft, consuming suckles that left trails of heat in their wake.

The sensation of his lips on your neck caused a shiver to run through you. “Mmm…” you moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips as the pleasure built.

Each hickey he left was a mark of his devotion, a physical testament to the depth of his feelings.

His body was warm and firm against yours, a comforting weight that made you feel both cherished and desired. His hands roamed over your body with a gentle reverence, caressing and exploring with an unspoken tenderness.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice laden with sincerity and emotion.

“I love you too,” you responded, your words a breathy echo of his sentiments.

Jay's gaze was soft yet intense as he supported himself on his elbows, his eyes never leaving yours. His fingers traced the edges of your lacy bra with deliberate slowness, the anticipation hanging thick in the air.

He started undressing you, each movement fluid and filled with a loving reverence. "You're so pretty," he whispered, his voice a tender caress that made your heart flutter.

His eyes sparkled with admiration and affection as he tossed aside your lacy pink bra, a piece he clearly adored.

His hands then glided to your breasts, his touch light and teasing as he caressed the valley between your breasts.

The gentle, teasing strokes of his fingers sent shivers of both excitement and frustration through you. "Jay!" you whined, your voice a blend of plea and exasperation.

The teasing was almost too much, making you squirm beneath him, yearning for more immediate affection. His touch was electrifying, a tantalizing promise of the passion that was to come.

Jay's expression remained teasingly oblivious as he whispered, “Hmm?” His voice was laced with a playful innocence that belied the clear arousal you both felt.

Even through the layers of fabric, you could feel the hardness of his desire pressing against you, a heated reminder of his own longing.

“Please…” you whined, raising your hips instinctively, seeking the friction that would alleviate the burning need within you. Your movements were both desperate and eager, a silent plea for more.

“Patience,” Jay replied with a teasing smirk, his voice smooth and full of mischief.

He rubbed his hardness against you through the fabric of his pants and your panties, his movements slow and deliberate, designed to keep you on the edge of pleasure.

“I want you so bad,” you whispered, your gaze locked with his. The intensity of your eyes mirrored the intensity of your need, each word dripping with desire and longing.

As Jay’s mouth descended upon your nipple, a moan escaped your lips, and your head fell back in sheer pleasure.

His warmth enveloped you, and the sensation of his mouth on your sensitive skin sent waves of ecstasy through you.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, his tongue swirling with a delicious precision that had you gasping and arching against him.

“Baby…” Jay moaned around your nipple, the sound vibrating through you. His breath was hot and heavy, mingling with the sensation of his tongue as it lavished attention on your hardened peak.

His grinding movements against you through the layers of clothing only heightened your arousal, creating a delicious friction that intensified every touch.

His free hand was equally attentive, moving to caress and knead your other breast with a tender, almost reverent touch. His thumb rubbed gently against your other nipple, creating a perfect rhythm that matched the soft, soothing pressure of his caresses.

“So pretty, just like I remembered,” Jay murmured, his voice muffled slightly as he continued to suckle on your nipple.

There was a nostalgic softness in his tone, a reminder of the deep connection and affection he felt. The intimacy of the moment was laced with a sense of longing and cherished memories.

“It’s been so long…” you breathed heavily, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and emotion. The truth of your words hung between you, a stark reminder of the time that had passed without this kind of closeness.

Weeks, maybe months without the physical intimacy you both craved had left a palpable void, now being filled with the intensity of your current encounter.

Jay’s breath came out in a deep sigh, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken words between you. He left your nipple with a wet pop, his gaze soft and affectionate as he looked up at you.

A tender kiss on your forehead accompanied his whispered “mine,” his voice imbued with both possessiveness and tenderness.

His lips then traveled down to your neck, suckling with a renewed intensity that made your breath hitch.

His hands were swift and purposeful as he discarded your panties, the fabric pulling away with a teasing strip of arousal, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. The sudden rush of cool air against your heated skin elicited a shiver of anticipation.

Jay’s movements were fluid and urgent as he removed his pants, followed quickly by his boxers. The sight of his length straining against the fabric of his boxers was a clear testament to his own arousal.

He tossed his boxers aside with equal haste, and both of you were finally bare, the last remnants of clothing discarded.

In a shared moment of urgency and intimacy, you took the initiative to remove his shirt, throwing it aside so that nothing now lay between your naked bodies. The raw, unfiltered connection between you was palpable.

“Jay…” you moaned, your voice filled with longing as you felt him protest against your call.

His fingers were already tracing a path down to your pussy, gathering your arousal with a slow, deliberate touch. His whispered words—“you’re so ready for me”—sent a shiver of pleasure through you.

“Mm…” you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as he began to rub slow circles on your clit. The sensation was a mixture of tantalizing friction and electrifying warmth.

“Does that feel good?” Jay asked softly, his voice a seductive murmur as he pushed a finger inside you. The intrusion was met with a surprised gasp as his finger curved and stroked within you, moving slowly in and out.

“Ahhh…” The gasp escaped your lips, your body arching towards him as his finger explored with a measured rhythm. Each movement, each curve of his finger sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but moan his name, completely lost in the intensity of the moment.

Jay’s fingers worked their magic inside you, the friction building with every deliberate stroke. The sound of your moans filled the room, mingling with the soft rustling of the bed sheets.

Your hips moved in sync with his fingers, aching with need as they sought more contact, more of him. “JAY!” you gasped sharply when he added a second finger, stretching you further in preparation for his thick cock.

The sensation of him filling you was almost too much to bear, sending jolts of pleasure through your core. His fingers curled and stroked, expertly hitting all the right spots.

His lips were firmly pressed against your neck, suckling with an insistent rhythm that matched the pace of his fingers. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, each breath mingling with the sounds of your shared pleasure.

The contrast between the gentle kiss and the intensity of his touch created a dizzying mix of sensations. Jay’s eyes were dark with desire as he looked at you, his face flushed with the effort of keeping his composure.

His other hand gripped your hip, guiding your movements as he continued to work his fingers inside you, the rhythm steady and relentless. “Are you ready for me?” he whispered, his voice rough with need as he withdrew his fingers slowly, savoring the lingering warmth of your body.

You gasped out a desperate, “I’m ready...” Your hips lifted to signal him, the urgency clear in your movements.

Jay didn’t need any further encouragement. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue taking dominance. The sensation of his tip rubbing against you made you shiver, your moans mingling with his as he worked to ensure you were sufficiently wet.

With a deliberate, slow motion, he began to enter you, inch by inch. The fullness was almost overwhelming, and you gasped, your hands gripping his back as he filled you.

“Oh my god, babe,” you moaned, the sensation both intense and exhilarating.

Jay’s response was soothing, a soft kiss on your forehead as he buried his face in your neck. His hands kept your legs firmly around his waist, guiding you closer, deeper.

“It’s fine,” he whispered, his voice a comforting rumble against your skin. He continued to move, each thrust stretching and filling you completely.

“So tight, so warm,” he murmured, his breath mingling with your gasps. His voice was deep, filled with a mix of awe and pleasure as he began to find his rhythm.

“You’re so big...” you managed to say, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you adjusted to him. Despite the familiarity, the sensation was almost overwhelming.

“You like it?” he teased softly, his thrusts slow and deliberate. His other hand moved to your clit, rubbing in small, stimulating circles to keep you on edge.

“Jay,” you moaned, your eyes glistening with tears of pleasure. His length felt incredible, stretching you in ways that left you breathless.

“Mmm...” he responded with a groan, brushing a tear from your cheek as he continued to thrust. His movements were a mix of tenderness and passion, each stroke perfectly measured.

“So good,” you murmured, your voice muffled by your moans. The intensity of the moment, combined with the rhythm of his thrusts, made you feel like you had rediscovered him after the long days apart.

Jay’s pace increased gradually, his thrusts becoming more fervent as he responded to your every whimper and gasp. His fingers continued their steady pressure on your clit, amplifying the pleasure as he drove deeper.

“Feel so good,” you repeated, your voice trembling with the sheer intensity of your emotions. The physical connection between you both was a powerful reminder of how much you had missed each other.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure—moans, gasps, and the rhythmic thud of the bed. The pleasure you felt was heightened by the emotional connection, making every touch and every thrust feel profoundly intimate.

As Jay continued to move inside you, you clung to him, feeling a mix of relief and ecstasy. This moment was everything you had been craving, a reconnection that was both physically and emotionally satisfying.

Jay's thrusts grew faster and more erratic, his rhythm becoming frantic as he chased his release. The familiar knot in your stomach tightened, an intense pressure building with each powerful stroke.

“JAY!” you moaned, your voice breaking as his pace quickened. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried to hold back the impending climax.

“Wait for me, baby,” he urged, his voice rough with desperation. His hands roamed to your breasts, squeezing them with a gentle firmness. He rubbed your nipples with a deliberate, teasing touch, driving you closer to the edge.

“Oh god, oh god,” you whined, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. The intensity of his movements and the sensations coursing through you made it difficult to hold back.

“YOU’RE SO FUCKING HOT,” Jay groaned, his voice thick with arousal. He was determined to prolong the moment, savoring every second of the connection between you.

The room was filled with the rustle of sheets and the sound of skin against skin, a symphony of your shared pleasure. Jay’s relentless pace and the raw intensity of the moment made it almost impossible to focus on anything but the ecstasy that engulfed you.

“Come for me, baby...” Jay whispered, his breath hot against your ear. His words were a gentle nudge, encouraging you to let go as he held his own release in check.

“JAY I’M—” you screamed out his name, the sensation of his cock inside you reaching a peak. The explosion of pleasure hit you like a tidal wave, and you milked his cock with your climax, sending him over the edge as well.

“Fuck,” Jay swore, his voice a mix of awe and satisfaction. The tight, pulsing sensation of your orgasm made him come undone, and you could feel his hot seed filling you up.

His body collapsed on top of you, the weight a comforting presence as the aftershocks of your orgasms faded.

You both lay there for a moment, entangled and spent. Jay slowly pulled out, the wet, lewd pop of his withdrawal making you feel a sudden emptiness now that he was no longer inside you. His arms wrapped around you as he shifted so that you were on top of him, his body warm and comforting against yours.

“Was that good?” he asked softly, his voice tender and filled with affection. He held you close, his hands gently stroking your back as you rested on his chest.

“Mm... I think I forgive you for neglecting me the past few days,” you murmured, your tone heavy with exhaustion and contentment. Your eyelids grew heavy, the warmth of his body making you feel safe and cherished.

Jay’s fingers traced soothing patterns on your skin as he placed a tender kiss on your forehead. “I promise not to do that ever again,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincere regret and love. He held you close, his embrace a silent promise to make time for you and cherish every moment together.

As you both settled into the quiet of the room, the intimacy of the moment lingered. The soft sounds of your breathing and the occasional rustle of the sheets created a peaceful backdrop to your contentment. Jay’s arms were a steady, reassuring presence, and you snuggled into him, feeling a deep sense of connection and love.

The world outside seemed distant and unimportant as you lay together, the bonds of your relationship reaffirmed in the gentle, afterglow of your shared passion.

[muntitled]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞

Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hating Farleigh had never stopped him from using you

Content Warnings: Language, Fwb, Forbidden Relationship, Unedited, Dark Fic, Dark Humor, Coarse Jokes, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smoking, Weaponizing!Ollie, Smut (+18), Minors DNI, Slight CNC, Breeding, Neediness, Exhibition Kink, Grinding, Extreme Degradation, Humiliation Kink, Praise Kink, Hate Sex, Hair Pulling, Rough sex, Messy Sex, Spitting, Orgasm Control, Dirty Talk, Choking

He'd definitely bully me if he was real, and I'd be in love with him

"It's not like we're actually going to eat anything. Mother only insists we all make use of the furniture," Venetia's rambling is incessant as she walks briskly into the dining hall. You know her irritation is the by-product of the undiagnosed anxiety that comes with being forced into an uncomfortable Dior slip on such short notice.

In all fairness, you weren't doing so well either. The dress you are currently wearing is just as suffocating and Venetia's Saint Laurent heels dig into your bone. Your outfit is a velvety, laced up nightmare.

A torture chamber.

You wholeheartedly wanted to crawl into your own bed and forget about everyone and everything. In fact, the only thing keeping you mildly excited for dinner with The Henrys happens to be-

"Gentlemen!" You exclaim, before cleverly adding, "And you've brought Farleigh with you."

You all congregate at the left side of the dinner table, while the Henrys and The Henrys wives all mill about the dinner party. There are'nt any rules to things like this. It's all so self explantory.

What was not all too self explantory was your seating positions. Venetia forces you to sit in between herself and a very vexed Farleigh.

"How interesting," Farleigh barely addresses you in his tired monotonous lilt, "You're almost, nearly, just about, decently dressed." You bristle as you lower your behind to your chair, all while Farleigh shoots you a tight-lipped smile.

"Wow!" Your words drip with sarcasm, promptly halting Farleigh from flirting with the man to his immediate left - one of the Henrys closeted sons, no doubt. "That almost, nearly, just about sounded like a compliment!" You exclaim before leaning over beside him in a daring display of confidence. You place your hand tentatively on his thigh before whispering, "Am I going to have to use my rape whistle?"

Farleigh's scoff sends a string of lightning shooting down your spine.

"You're such a slut, I think you'd enjoy probably enjoy it." His breath is hot against your cheek and would be considered vile.

It should be vile.

Why can't you bring yourself to find Farleigh as vile?

With his elbows lowered underneath the table like a good little gentleman, Farleigh lets his fingers crawl tentatively over your thigh.

The games are on.

Your heart is beating at a million miles an hour with your mind reeling at not only Farleigh's large warm palm finding its home on your ample thigh but his words.

They are in complete contrast to everything you two have experienced together thus far on your stay in Saltburn.

As his fingers inch their way towards your inner thigh you're absolutely breathless. All you can think about is your escapade in the pool the evening before.

Both Catton siblings had been immersed in a very Catton argument, leaving you and Farleigh to your own devices on the banks of the stone pool.

With both your arms leaning over the ledge of the pool and Farleigh pressed to your side, no one could barely tell that Farleigh already had two digits dipped inside your weeping cunt. His hand moved slowly and deftly, so as not to cause too much of a stir in the water and give you two away. And he did it all while leaning his free hand out of the pool, cradling his copy of Jane Eyre with his eyes glued on the pages.

"F-Fuck Farleigh, can I cum?" He sighed at your agitated state.

"Not until I'm finished with Chapter 18." He mumbled almost distractedly, as if your needy voice was something akin to a pesky fly interrupting his reading.

Chapter 18, as you'd probably guessed, had never ended.

His cousins were back from their argument and his fingers left your cunt just as quickly. You had both went back to pretending to hate each other and you were left to 'rub one out' in the safety of your room like some hormonal teenager.

You truly are furious with him.

"What's this I'm hearing about a rape whistle?" Felix pipes up from the other side of Farleigh, equally dressed up all spiffy for the Henry's "You didn't rape anyone, did you?"

Farleigh's response is more of a hiss, "Of course I didn't-"

"Surely there must be more savory topics of discussion at the dinner table other than rape?" Comes the quick mediation of Elsbeth, who sits at the head of the table, clutching her string of expensive pearls as if they weilded the power to rid her of all these insolent little kids.

"Of course there is," you exclaim before turning your head to smile at the presence beside Ventia, nestled quietly in his seat like a little pauper.

Farleigh's manicured fingernails sink half moons into the skin of your thigh, peeking up from the slit of your dress as you lean away from him and say, "You must be Oliver! It's a relief to see another commoner around here." It was so undeniably petty to weaponize Farleigh's greatest foe, but the vexation of not being made to cum the night before still hangs heavily on your shoulder. And at the end of the day, you really just were a petty bitch.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ollie!" Slightly leaning over Venetia, the boy looks pale. As if he was biting down on his words. God, his tongue must be riddled in scars.

"Pleasure to meet you." Oliver cooly mirrors the warm and inviting smile stretched across your face.

"Don't lean over me," Venetia mumbles, "I'm not a child."

Meanwhile, Farleigh scoffs once again. While he injects himself in your conversation, his hands move swiftly to cup your vagina, nearly raking a gasp out of your throat in the process. "She won't sleep with you, mate." his brown eyes are trained on Oliver's. "She's a slut but not that big of a slut."

The extreme degradation laced in Farleigh's voice is enough to have you nearly moan out in front of all your friends, their family, and all the bloody Henrys.

Farleigh knew exactly which buttons to push to have you melting catastrophically against his fingers. He knew what words could have you slipping into subspace and he knew how to get your cunt weeping.

"Jesus Christ, could we not do this right now?" Venetia asks, staring pointedly at her cousin, and not at the sight of your legs parting to further accomdate his lazy rubbing against your cunt.

"I'm sorry, Cousin," Farleigh replies, "but it's not my fault your best friend is a raging bitch."

A breathless chuckle escapes your clenched teeth, "I-I'm not a-"

"Yeah, I am so completely done with this conversation," Venitia says, before strangling the stem of her wine glass and chugging it down as if it was nothing but water.

You turn back to hiss into Farleigh's ear, "You're such an a-asshole-"

"Say that again but don't sound like you're on the verge of squirting on my fingers in the middle of dinner." His grin is shadowed by the dimness of crystal chandlier and all the little candles posted along the table. "This is what you get for being a bitch," he says, socasually it makes you break your resolve by shifting in your seat, to better grind your cunt against his fingers, even for a mere second.

It's almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

"Oh-ho!" He aims a guffaw at the sky, "You really are a needy little slut-"

"This dress is shit," you suddenly push yourself out of your chair, creating the minimal noise of wood scraping against the floors. Most eyes are on you and Farleigh slyly removes his hands from in between your thigh. He leans over the table, bringing his fingers to his lips before spreading them over his gums like you would cocaine.

"I have to go change." You say to Venetia, before promptly (and very rudely) bowing out of the dinner.

A few seconds later, you hear Farleigh mumble something about needing a smoke and your heart rattles wildly in its cage. His footsteps are brisk behind yours, and you can feel his eyes sinking into your figure.

While your feet carry you to your destination and you let your brain catch on, you're already sneaking into Farleigh's room.

"Ah! Trespasser!" He exclaims excitedly behind you, with his hands stuffed in his pocket.

"You're so fucking annoying!" Your complains barely escape your throat before he's attacking you in a sloppy, open mouth kiss. He steals the air right out of your lungs, until he's breathing for the both of you. Farleigh slips out of his Abercrombie suit blazer, discarding the material as if it truly meant nothing to him.

His hands are everywhere, with special interests in your breasts compressed tightly by the uncomfortable stitching of your dress.

"This dress..." you mumble distractedly.

"Fuck this dress." He says, and you wholeheartedly agree. Perhaps it was desperate of you to turn in haste. Lifting the ends of your hair to present the zipper to him.

"You look fucking ravenous." He admits in a grave whisper, with his lips grazing the side of your neck, "I wanna fucking eat you." He says, "I wanna be inside you."

"You have such a dirty mouth, Farleigh," the groan that escapes his throat as he zips down your dress lets you know that you may have found your way in.

As the dress spills around your heeled feet, followed by your lacey underwear, Farleigh reattaches his full lips to the skin of your back. "What did you say?" His voice is like the rough gravel encircling Saltburn and you let your eyes roll to the back of your head as you arch backwards against him. His hardness presses against your ass and your fingers weave their way into his curls.

"I said youre a dirty boy, Farleigh." He ruts against you, almost as a second thought. "A dirty fucking boy,"

"Fuck," his hands dig into your hips, rubbing you against him. All as he pleases. "Fucking, fuck. I'm not gonna cum like this-" He says suddenly before spinning you back around.

It is few and sparse moments when you're reminded just how much taller Farleigh is than you and eventide it happens, the wind is knocked out of you. Farleigh advances on you like a literal predator until you're forced to fall backwards on his bed.

He barely undoes the bowtie, and only a few buttons go loose enough to showcase the beautiful expanse of his chest.

"You're absolutely soaked aren't you?" He asks, hovering on the bed above you.

"I need to cum, Farleigh, please-" You knew it was the only way to get what you wanted. You had unashamedly resorted to begging for a man who hooked his nails into your hair, forcing you to sit upright as he parted your legs.

"Look at you," he whispers before cackling maniacally. "You're so stupidly wet, you filthy fucking girl-"

"O-oh fuck, Fuck Farleigh," Your try by all means to grind your cunt into the mattress but is doesn't happen.

"When are you going to learn that I own your orgasms?" He whispers, with his other hand furiously undoing the belt of his fitted pants. "You don't cum until I say. You don't touch yourself until I say. You don't even fucking think about cumming until I say-"

"You're such a big little baby," you spit back, "A big needy, little b-"

You're once again pushed backwards and Farleigh's mounting you with his leaking cock locked tight in his fist.

You automatically lift your legs to present your cunt to him and he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to cum inside of you." He promises.

"I want you too."

Farleigh's eyes are heavy as he slides himself inside you. He looks down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. A treasure trove.

"Fuck- I need you to carry on talking." Farleigh says before shutting his eyes tightly. "Fuck you feel so good-"

"You're doing so well, baby," his hips rut inside you, accidentally pushing his cock in way too deep, way too fast and you both hiss and moan. "Such a good boy," you say with your hair finding his own curls, "You're being such a good fucking boy, Farleigh-"

"Open your mouth," you comply robotically. Farleigh places his hands on the underside of your chin before tipping your head backwards. His chains dangle above you as you stick your tongue out and he spits directly into your mouth. "Such a slut," he says, "Such a filthy fucking good girl." His words have you grinding your cunt against his cock until soon, you're both on the precipice of cumming.

"F-Fuck-"

"Such a good girl," he whispers, with his breath ghosting yoir face and the sound of skin slapping against skin only grows louder and louder. "S-So fucking good-" He whispers over and over again until your cunt clenches around his cock, promting Farleigh's orgasm with a quickness.

His cum spilling inside you has you slipping unceremoniously into your own orgasm and Farleigh wails in both the pleasure of your cunt milking him dry, or your fingers still pulling his hair like crazy.

"Fuck!" He exclaims before slumping on the bed beside you, "Get your fingers out of my hair, you psycho-"

"You love it, though," there's a teasing lilt in your voice, and all Farleigh does is scoff before patting down the pockets of his pants.

"You give me endless reasons to smoke," he says, before tipping his head back, unknwongly leaning into your embrace as your fingers coil through his soft curls.

"You'd smoke anyway."

[mrsfancyferrari]

Our Love Is Strong

Summary: You weren't going to let your eating disorder destroy your relationship until it did.

Song: Only Love Can Hurt Like This by Paloma Faith

Author’s note: From someone probably has an eating disorder but disguises it being a picky eater, I really wanted to write this. Happy ending. Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 5.6k

You and Lando Norris had just gotten into a serious relationship, and you couldn't be happier. The chemistry between you two was undeniable, and you had both been looking forward to building a future together.

However, there was one thing that you had been hiding from Lando - your biggest secret, your eating disorder.

As an F1 driver yourself, maintaining a slim figure had always been a priority. You had become accustomed to following a strict diet, limiting your food intake to the bare minimum.

Your career as a racing driver had ensured that your body was in peak physical condition, and a diet was not a major concern since you hardly ate anything in general.

However, Lando was growing increasingly concerned by your lack of appetite. He noticed that you were frequently skipping meals, and he couldn't help but notice the weight of your body diminishing.

“Are you not going to go eat more?” Lando asked you, not looking up from his phone.

“I’m full,” You answered as usual, “I’m going to be at the gym if you need me,”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lando questioned you, concerned of your health.

“Yeah everything is okay Lando,” You said with a small smile, walking towards the door.

“Why do you insist that everything is fine when I can clearly see that you are troubled? You know I'm here to listen and understand what's really going on.”

You immediately stopped in your tracks, not turning around to face him.

“Don't shut me out please - let me in so I can help. I know you've been through a lot, but keeping your feelings bottled up isn't healthy. Please, talk to me. I want to support you, but I can't do that if you won't be honest with me.”

You kept quiet, afraid that your voice would betray you if you spoke. You didn’t want that. You could hide your secret. You hid it from your family and friends so why shouldn’t you hide it from your boyfriend?

“I'm on your side, Y/N. All I ask is that you trust me enough to open up. Together, we can work through whatever is weighing on your mind.” Lando begged, standing up from the chair and slowly walking to you.

“I’ll be in the gym if you need me,” You repeated quietly before rushing out of the room, leaving Lando in a distressed state.

You’ve been spending more time at the gym lately and less time with Lando. It's a conscious decision you made to avoid him as much as possible, as you don't want to discuss the topic of your eating habits.

Lando has always been concerned about your diet and weight, and it's become a point of contention between us. You appreciated his concern, but you feel that it's your own personal matter, and you don't want to be constantly scrutinized or lectured about it.

By spending less time with him, you were able to focus on your own fitness goals and personal growth without the added pressure.

“Congratulations Y/N! Your weight has gone to 140.0 pounds,” Your physician said, looking at the weight scale that you stood on. “Is your new diet doing good for you?”

“Umm yeah it does help,” You lied, standing off the scale after they recorded your weight.

Lies. You hardly ate the new diet. You wanted to get to the weight you were to told to get to in the quickest time so you could help your team out more that you would not be weighing down the car.

“Great, now tell me do you get any dizzy spells recently?” The physician asked, not looking up from their board.

Yes, almost everyday.

“No, I don’t get any dizzy spells,” You lied again.

“Do you ever feel cold or tired?” The physician continued.

“Nope, I feel fine,” You answered, wanting the questions to stop.

The guilt was creeping up on you slowly.

The physician smiled warmly as they reviewed the test results. "I'm pleased to say that everything looks perfectly normal," they announced, their voice exuding a reassuring tone.

"However, I would recommend making a few adjustments to your diet. Let's go over a plan that will help you feel your absolute best."

The physician proceeded to outline a balanced, nutritious regimen, tailored specifically to address any minor concerns and ensure your continued good health.

You were happy that they didn’t notice your pale skin, clammy hands and the slight ribs showing through your skin.

“Make sure to take a lot of water and stick to this new diet and I’m sure you’ll be lighter in no time,” The physician instructed.

You nodded while remembering nothing she says. You wouldn’t be needing it anyways, you have your way of losing weight.

When you left the doctor's office, you saw Carlos waiting for his own appointment. You approached him and said, "Carlos, fancy seeing you here. How are you doing?"

Carlos looked up and replied, "Oh, hey there! I'm doing alright, just waiting for my turn to see the doctor. I've been having some issues with my back lately, and I figured it was time to get it checked out. How about you, how did your appointment go?"

“It went great! Just a usual checkup,” You said, lying through your teeth.

You started to feel lightheaded, and a sense of unease crept up your spine. As you stood there, the room seemed to sway slightly, and you couldn't quite focus your eyes.

This was no ordinary feeling – something was clearly amiss. Recognising the signs of potential dizziness or even a more serious medical issue, you knew you needed to act quickly.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself and began to assess the situation more closely. Was this a temporary bout of lightheadedness, or could it be a sign of a more underlying condition? Your mind raced as you considered the various possibilities, each one more concerning than the last. However, you refused to panic.

"Whoa, I'm starting to feel a bit lightheaded," you muttered, placing a hand on your forehead. "I haven't felt this way in a while."

Carlos looked at you with concern. "Are you alright? Maybe you should sit down for a moment." Hr guided you to a nearby chair and helped you ease into it.

"I'm not sure what's causing it," you replied, taking a few deep breaths. "It just came on suddenly. Do you think I should get some water or something?"

“I think you should go back into the doctor’s office to get checked out,” Carlos stated, worriedness written all over his face.

“No, no, I just forgot to drink water today,” You said, trying to regain your vision.

Carlos immediately ran over to the water dispensers, taking a cup of water before walking back to you worriedly

Carlos hurried over to the water coolers, quickly grabbing a cup and filling it with water. As he rushed back to where you were standing, a look of concern was etched across his face.

“Here you go,” Carlos said, handing you the cup of water and you took it, grateful for his actions.

“Should I call Lando to come pick you up?”

“No!” You immediately yelled, the name of your boyfriend making you jump. He would force you to go back to the doctor’s office and remove you from the race.

“I mean no, I’m meeting up with him after this so there is no point calling him,” You lied with a strained smile on, sipping on the cold water.

Carlos gave you a long stare to find anything he could use to bring his best friend into it but he found nothing.

“Carlos Sainz,” The physician called in from their office and Carlos looked annoyed to have to leave you but he saw nothing wrong with you.

"See you later, Carlos," you said, bidding farewell to your colleague in a polite and courteous manner. You then rose from the cool, metallic seat and made your way out of the building, your departure marked by a sense of professionalism and civility.

Carlos gazed at you intently one final time, his eyes conveying a sense of determination, before turning and walking towards the entrance of his physician's medical practice. . . .

Lando looked from his phone to you who was asleep in your shared bed, worried about his girlfriend.

You have been getting paler for the past few days, and he couldn't help but feel concerned. He knew how important it was for you to rest and recover, but he couldn't help but worry about your well-being.

As he watched you sleep, Lando couldn't help but feel a sense of relief.

He was grateful that you were getting the rest you needed, and he vowed to do everything in his power to ensure that you felt better soon. . . .

The qualifying race was fast approaching, and the pressure was on for both of you. You, struggling with an eating disorder, knew that your performance was being watched closely.

Charles, noticed your increasing fatigue and tried to speak up, but you brushed it off and pushed yourself harder, determined to secure more points.

You were exhausted when you bumped into Charles. "Hey, Charles."

Charles greeted you with a smile, "Hey, my friend. I noticed you've been looking a little tired lately. Are you okay?"

You were obviously guarded with your emotions, "I'm fine, thanks. Just focusing on qualifying."

Charles gently replied, "I noticed that too. The drivers are noticing too. Are you pushing yourself too hard?"

You ignored Charles' concern for you, "No, I'm perfectly fine. I just need to give my best on the track."

"Are you really sure? I've noticed that you haven't been eating much lately. Something isn't right."

"That's none of your business, Charles. I'm fine, really. Just leave me alone and focus on qualifying."

Charles wasn't going to give up easily as he firmly said, "No, it's not right, and I'm not going to leave you alone. I care about you, and I can't sit by and watch you suffer in silence."

You were beyond angry now. Why couldn't he ignore you like everyone did?

"You have no right to judge me! You don't know anything about my personal struggles."

"It's not about judgment. It's about caring. I care about you, and I don't want you to suffer in silence. Please, talk to me." Charles begged.

You weakly said, "I...I don't know what to say."

Charles had an understanding look on his face. "It's okay. I'm here for you. Just remember that it's okay to ask for help."

You answered, voice breaking, "Okay, Charles. I'll think about it."

Charles was patting your back, "Take your time. I'm here for you, no matter what."

You looked up, "Thank you, Charles."

Your eating disorder started when you were young, unable to afford good food. Growing up in a low-income household, you often went without proper nutrition, which led to a distorted relationship with food.

As you pursued your racing dreams, the pressure to maintain a certain physique only exacerbated your struggles with food. The constant focus on qualifying and securing points overshadowed your well-being.

The constant pressure to maintain a certain physique in the racing industry, coupled with the intense focus on qualifying and securing points, created a toxic environment that overshadowed your well-being.

The distorted relationship with food, stemming from your childhood experiences of not having access to proper nutrition, became even more challenging to overcome as you pursued your racing dreams.

However, being in a relationship with Lando only added to the pressure you felt. Seeing how other drivers' partners looked perfect and put-together, you couldn't help but compare yourself and feel inadequate.

The desire to fit into that mold and meet those expectations only fueled your eating disorder further, as you believed that achieving that "perfect" appearance would make you more worthy of love and acceptance.

It was a vicious cycle that seemed impossible to break. . . .

It was a crisp morning as you made your way through the paddock, the cool air sending a shiver down your spine. You tried to ignore the growing sense of fatigue that was creeping up on you, chalking it up to the nerves of the impending race.

As you approached the pit, the dizziness hit you like a wave, causing you to sway slightly on your feet. you brushed it off, determined to push through and focus on the task at hand.

The mechanics were bustling around, making final adjustments to your car, and you knew you needed to be at the top of your game.

Despite the warning signs, you climbed into the cockpit, your movements feeling sluggish and uncoordinated. The familiar rush of adrenaline was absent, replaced by a heavy, lethargic feeling. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog, but it only seemed to worsen.

As the race began, you struggled to maintain control of the car, your reactions slow and your concentration wavering. The other drivers pulled ahead, leaving you trailing behind, unable to muster the energy to keep up.

You knew you were putting yourself and the team at risk, but the thought of admitting defeat was too much to bear.

By the time the chequered flag fell, you had finished well outside the points, your body and mind utterly spent.

As you returned to your garage, you sat in your car, gasping for breath, feeling completely drained and unable to move. Your body ached with exhaustion, and even lifting your hand to wipe away the sweat on your brow seemed like an impossible task.

The physical and mental toll of the race had taken its toll on you, leaving you in a state of utter exhaustion. The disappointment and frustration washed over you, knowing that you had pushed yourself to the limit and still fell short of your expectations.

You stumbled out of the car, your legs wobbly and unsteady. The pit crew rushed to your side, concerned expressions on their faces as they tried to offer support.

Ignoring their pleas, you continued to wander aimlessly with your helmet on, the voices around you becoming a distant blur.

The weight of disappointment and frustration settled heavily on your shoulders, as you struggled to come to terms with falling short of your own expectations.

As you stumbled aimlessly with your helmet on, your vision began to blur and darken. Colors and shapes merged together, and you could barely make out the faces of the concerned pit crew.

Panic set in as you realized that your body had reached its breaking point, and your vision was giving out completely.

The world around you faded into darkness, leaving you disoriented and overwhelmed.

As you collapsed on the ground, the pit crew rushed to your side in a frenzy of concern and alarm. Their voices blended together, a cacophony of worried shouts and urgent instructions.

Some knelt down beside you, gently trying to rouse you, while others hurriedly called for medical assistance. The team's collective panic was palpable as they desperately tried to understand what had happened and how to help you.

As the medical team arrived, the pit crew stepped back, their faces etched with worry and fear.

They exchanged glances, silently conveying their shared concern for your well-being. The atmosphere in the garage had shifted from anticipation and excitement to a somber and tense mood, as everyone anxiously awaited news of your condition.

Another thing that the pit crew was worried about was your boyfriend, Lando Norris, and his reaction to your condition.

They knew that he would be furious and distraught when he found out what had happened. They understood the immense pressure he put on himself to perform well, and they feared that he would blame himself for your collapse.

They braced themselves for the storm that was about to come, hoping that they could provide him with the support he needed to navigate through his own emotions.

A staff member had come up to Lando and whispered something to him. "Lando, we need to talk. Something has happened to Y/N. She collapsed after the race and the medical team is attending to her right now."

Lando was shocked by the information. "What? Is she okay? What happened? Why wasn't I informed earlier?"

"We're still waiting for more updates, but it seems like her body gave out under the pressure. The doctors are doing everything they can. We didn't want to distract you during the race." The staff explained to him

"I can't believe this. I should have been there for her. She always puts so much on herself. I need to see her, now." Lando said, walking towards your paddock garage.

The staff member immediately followed him, not wanting him to make any rash decisions in public. "We're making arrangements for you to visit her at the hospital, Lando. Your focus right now should be on her well-being."

Lando paced back and forth, his anxiety growing with each passing second. He couldn't stand the thought of you being alone in the hospital, fighting for your well-being.

As he waited for the car to arrive, he replayed the events of the race in his head, desperately searching for any signs that he might have missed.

A car finally came to pick up Lando and take him to the hospital. As he got in, he couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt, wondering if there was anything he could have done differently during the race to prevent your collapse.

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity, each passing moment filled with worry and self-doubt.

He finally arrived at the hospital and approached the reception desk, his voice trembling as he asked the secretary for your name. The secretary looked up and said, "May I ask your relationship to the patient?"

Lando took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, and replied, "I'm her boyfriend, Lando Norris. Please, I need to see her right away."

The secretary nodded sympathetically and quickly located your name on the computer.

"She's in room 305 on the third floor. Take the elevator to your left," she said, pointing in the direction.

Lando thanked her and hurriedly made his way towards the elevator, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope.

As Lando stepped into the elevator, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that he had finally found your room.

The journey up to the third floor felt like an eternity, each passing floor filled with anticipation and worry.

As Lando stepped out of the elevator onto the third floor, he couldn't help but feel a surge of relief and anticipation. Room 305 was just down the hallway, and he quickened his pace, eager to see you and reassure himself that you were okay.

The door to the room swung open, revealing a scene of medical equipment and monitors, but what caught Lando's attention was the sight of you lying in the hospital bed.

His eyes filled with tears as he approached you, gently taking your hand in his.

As Lando looked at you lying in the hospital bed, he noticed a tube attached to your mouth. The tube was connected to a ventilator, helping you breathe and providing the necessary oxygen to support your recovery.

The soft hum of the machine filled the room, a constant reminder of the critical role it played in keeping you stable. Lando's heart ached at the sight, knowing that you were relying on this lifeline for every breath.

It snaked its way from your mouth to the ventilator, securing your connection to the vital support system.

Lando couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and helplessness as he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest, synchronized with the rhythmic breaths the machine facilitated.

"I'm so sorry, I should have known," Lando whispers to himself, his voice filled with regret. He pulls up a chair beside the bed and holds your hand tightly.

Lando gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and whispered, "I promise I'll be here for you, every step of the way. We'll get through this together." . . . .

You regained consciousness shortly thereafter, but you were weak and disoriented. The room seemed unfamiliar, and it took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the bright lights. As you looked around, you saw Lando sitting beside you, his eyes filled with relief and concern.

He gently squeezed your hand and said, "You're awake. I've been so worried. How are you feeling?"

"How did I get here?" you slurred, your voice still groggy from the effects of the sedation.

Lando's face softened with a mixture of understanding and sadness as he explained, "You collapsed after the race, but don't worry, you're in the hospital now and the doctors are taking care of you."

As Lando spoke, fragments of memories began to flood back into your mind. You remembered the intense pressure building up inside you during the race, the struggle to breathe, and the overwhelming fatigue that consumed your body.

You looked at Lando, tears welling up in your eyes, and whispered, "I pushed myself too hard, didn't I?"

Lando's voice cracked with emotion as he replied, "You gave it everything you had. But now, the most important thing is that you focus on recovering. We'll figure out the rest together."

Before Lando could say anymore, a doctor came into the room looking serious. "I'm glad to see you awake," the doctor said, addressing you. "We need to talk about your condition and the next steps for your recovery."

The doctor's words hung in the air, and Lando's grip on your hand tightened as you braced yourself for the difficult conversation that was about to follow.

"From your tests, you have been heavily malnourished, causing you to collapse," the doctor stated, his voice filled with concern. "We will need to address your nutritional needs and closely monitor your progress. A team of specialists will be assigned to create a personalized recovery plan for you, focusing on restoring your strength and replenishing your body."

The doctor's words hit you like a punch to the gut. He explained that your collapse was a result of severe malnourishment, as your body had been deprived of essential nutrients for an extended period of time.

Tears streamed down your face as you realized the extent of the damage you had done to yourself, and Lando's eyes mirrored your pain as he vowed to support you in your recovery journey.

"Before I continue, is there any mental health condition that I should know about?" the doctor asked, his voice gentle and understanding. You paused for a moment, contemplating whether to disclose your struggles with your eating disorder.

You looked over at Lando, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I've been battling an eating disorder for years."

Lando's expression softened even further as he gently squeezed your hand, silently assuring you that he would be there for you every step of the way.

The doctor nodded, his eyes full of empathy. "Thank you for sharing that with me," he said.

"It's important that we address both your physical and mental health in your recovery plan. I will make sure to involve the appropriate specialists who can provide the necessary support and guidance. Remember, you don't have to face this alone."

The doctor then excused himself from the room, leaving you, Lando and the unbelievable tension that hung in the air.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He finally asked after the uncomfortable silence took over the room.

You took a deep breath, gathering the strength to respond. "I didn't tell you because I was ashamed," you admitted, your voice trembling. "I felt like a burden, like I was letting you down. I didn't want you to see me as weak or broken."

You tried to apologize, explaining that your eating disorder was deeply rooted in your past and that you had struggled to overcome it.

You explained how it had started as a coping mechanism to deal with the pressures of being an F1 driver, but it had gradually taken over your life.

Lando's eyes softened as he reached out to wipe away a tear from your cheek. "You're not weak or broken," he said firmly.

"You're strong for sharing this with me. And I want you to know that I love you no matter what. We're in this together, and I'll do whatever it takes to support you in your recovery."

The weight on your shoulders began to lift as you realized that you didn't have to face this battle alone. In that moment, you knew that with Lando by your side, there was hope for healing and a brighter future ahead.

He had witnessed firsthand the toll that an eating disorder could take on this relationship, and he was determined to help you overcome it. Lando had seen how it strained communication, eroded trust, and created a sense of helplessness.

But he also believed in your strength and resilience, and he was committed to supporting you every step of the way.

He knew it would be a journey filled with ups and downs, but he was ready to face it together, knowing that love and understanding could make all the difference in your recovery. . . .

Lando had been worried about your well-being for months, even when you had been diligently treating your eating disorder. There were times when you would try to skip meals, but Lando always seemed to know.

One afternoon, Lando came home from work, eager to share his latest Quadrant video. He saw you sitting at the dinner table, eating slowly. Your hands trembled slightly as you struggled to swallow each bite.

Lando approached you cautiously, his heart heavy with concern. "Hey, beautiful," he said softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "How are you doing?"

You turned to look at him, your eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope. "I'm okay," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But Lando, I think I'm still struggling."

Lando nodded, understanding the pain behind your words. "I know, my love," he said, his voice full of empathy. "But you're doing so well. You've made so much progress."

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and despair. "I know," you said, your voice breaking. "But sometimes, it's still so hard. Sometimes, I just...I forget."

Lando leaned closer, his voice filled with reassurance. "I understand," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "But I'm here for you, every step of the way. And I promise, I'll never give up."

You smiled, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thank you, Lando," you said, your voice filled with emotion. "You always know what to say."

Lando leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you know what else?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, curious as to what he had in mind. "What's that?" you replied, your heart pounding with excitement.

Lando leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching yours. "I promised to give you a kiss once you finish your food," he whispered, his voice filled with anticipation.

You blushed, your heart racing. "You're going to keep that promise?" you asked, unable to hide the anticipation in your voice.

Lando nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I will," he promised, his voice filled with determination.

You turned back to your food, determined to finish what was on your plate. With each bite, you focused on the feeling of the fork in your hands, the rhythm of chewing, and the taste of the food on your tongue.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally finished your last bite. You looked up at Lando, your eyes filled with a mix of relief and anticipation.

"Can I have the kiss now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando smiled, his eyes filled with tenderness. "You have it, my love," he said, his voice filled with love. He leaned in, his lips softly landing on yours, a gentle kiss that spoke of his unwavering support and love.

As you pulled away, your eyes met his, filled with a mix of joy and gratitude. "Thank you," you said, your voice filled with emotion.

Lando leaned in again, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're welcome," he replied, his voice filled with warmth.

Suddenly, Lando grabbed you by the under your thighs and carried you up to his chest. You let out a gasp, but he quickly reassured you, "Don't worry, I've got you."

Your heart raced with surprise and excitement as you looked into his eyes. "What's gotten into you?" you asked, a hint of laughter in your voice.

Lando grinned mischievously, his eyes sparkling. "I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate you," he replied, his voice filled with adoration. "And maybe have a little fun while we're at it."

"Wow, you really know how to surprise me," you said, a playful smile on your face. Lando chuckled, his arms securely holding you.

"I thought a little spontaneity would spice things up," he replied, his voice filled with excitement.

You leaned in closer, your lips almost brushing against his ear. "Well, you certainly succeeded," you whispered, a mischievous tone in your voice.

Lando's eyes widened with anticipation as he listened to your whispered words. He leaned in closer, his voice filled with excitement. "Oh, I have plenty more surprises up my sleeve," he replied, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

As Lando leaned in closer, his hunger for your lips evident in his gaze, you felt a surge of electricity between you.

With a swift movement, he closed the remaining distance and hungrily captured your lips in a passionate kiss, igniting a fire within you that burned with desire and anticipation.

Your lips were crushing together, devouring each other's with an insatiable hunger that left you breathless. The intensity of the kiss sent shivers down your spine, as if every nerve in your body was on fire.

It was a kiss that spoke volumes of the raw passion and desire that existed between you, leaving you both craving for more.

Lando pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours, intensifying the heat and desire between you. The rough texture of the wall against your back only heightened the sensations as his lips continued to explore yours, leaving you both lost in a world of passion and longing.

Your skin tingles with heat as Lando's lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake.

Every touch sends a jolt of electricity through your body, making you feel alive and consumed by the intensity of the moment.

The warmth spreads from your lips to the rest of your body, as if a fire has been ignited within you, melting away any inhibitions and leaving you completely lost in the passionate embrace.

"Let's go to the bedroom," Lando whispered in your ear, his voice filled with desire. The words sent a thrill through your body, fueling the fire of anticipation that had been building between you.

Without breaking the kiss, Lando effortlessly scooped you up into his arms, carrying you with ease as he navigated towards your shared bedroom. The anticipation and desire in the air were palpable as he laid you gently on the bed, his eyes locked with yours, promising a night of passion and fulfillment. . . .

Your love story may not have been an easy one, but it is a testament to the power of love and the resilience of the human spirit.

Your eating disorder may have threatened to destroy your relationship, but in the end, it served as a catalyst for growth and a deeper understanding between you two. . . .

[phoenixyfriend]

Something something Dooku survives the Clone Wars, the Imperial Era, and even a few years past the OT...

And Luke finds him while looking for More Jedi to help him teach.

Chewie recognizes the decrepit old bastard, and there is yelling, but being A Hundred And Nine has mellowed Dooku out in his own dusty hermit hut, on the other side of the galaxy from Ben and Yoda's hermit huts.

All the Jedi ghosts are unhappy with this but Dooku is… not REFORMED, technically, but he's old and tired, even if the Force keeps him a bit more healthy and energized than the average Old Guy, and humans routinely live to pretty unreal old ages in the gffa anyway so really 109 for them is probably like 85 for us.

But yeah. Old mountain hermit (to contrast the desert and the swamp) who's been in hiding from That Dick Sidious since he lost both hands to babyface Vader in 19BBY.

@jebiknights (Sammie) said:

Dooku finds out Luke was also trained by Yoda and is like "oh Yoda finally gave me a younger brother like I always wanted"

Alternately he could probably get Luke to call him Great-Great-Grandfather.

Sammie: Funniest option is he's both which makes Luke even more confused lmao Ghost Obi wan in the background like "stop fucking using non Jedi terms to describe Jedi relationships it doesn't fucking work"

Luke calls him, irreverently, Gramps, but also. Leia definitely recognizes him as a Recent Historic Political Figure, but not until AFTER Luke has already integrated Dooku into his new Jedi school.

"Why did Chewie let him do that?" He thought it was funny. (And/or if you like Chewku, you can make this some sordid exes thing.)

"Why did R2 let him do that?" Best keep evil man in electrical prodding range.

Sammie: Leia comes to the school for her biweekly Jedi lessons and sees the newest teacher was a traitor to the Republic 😭

Best if they can find Quin or Ventress out in the black. Partly because like. Does this make Ventress their step-grandma (Quinlan's on-off something) or their great-great-aunt (Dooku's 4th apprentice)?

Sammie: Both and also Luke's niece. Luke has a migraine by the end of it and Leia is ready to disown herself. Ventress: I didn't realize the Jedi were so incestuous Luke: war flashbacks to before he realized Leia was his sister

Ahsoka in the corner with Spacebucks, five years late "Y'all suck. Hey, Quin."

Sammie: I know you likely didn't bring up Quinlan thinking of QuinObi but now I'm imagining Quinlan declaring himself their grandpa when he meets the twins bc 1) he loves to cause chaos 2) he does/did consider Anakin his kid even if not in neat non Jedi terms and 3) Obi-Wan thought being considered Anakin's father made him sound old, and Quinlan needs to harass him beyond the grave

Dooku must have a cane that the ghosts heckle him about because He Clearly Wants To Be Just Like Yoda.

@lyntergalactic (Lyn) said:

I feel like evil gramps could really bring out Ahsoka's snark once she shows up and that would be highly entertaining Ahsoka is simultaneously his most and least favorite grandchild

She's the most experienced as a Jedi (Ventress went full Sith, not just leaving the Order but following the tenets like Ahsoka, and Quinlan isn't in the lineage), has never Fallen unless you count that thing on Mortis.

Also she WILL bitch Dooku out at this age, and honestly he kind of appreciates the brutal honesty.

Ahsoka: I'm not a Jedi. All the old people: Lies

She brings up the Hondo incident since nobody else is putting in the effort. Anakin and Obi-Wan COULD as ghosts but nooooooo she has to do everything around here.

Sammie: Oh but it sets them off so hard they can barely get the story off from laughing NGL I think the twins did not understand how truly annoying Obi-Wan and Anakin could be together until the Hondo story gets told.

They are The Worst.

[ashwhowrites]

Can you write an Older Neighbor! Perv! Eddie Munson x reader, where she's new in the town and she just moved in right next to Eddie's house, and he sees her the first time and he's like I want her to be my girl, or smth like that, and he's all flirty and all that with her, and they do end up sleeping together, (but he's a perv!) And after some time, they start dating? (Maybe fluff/smut, please? 🥺)

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

⚠️pretty smutty, Eddie is very dominant and pushy. Trigger warning - Eddie forced the reader to have sex without a condom ( she likes it ) Eddie is a perv!- keep in mind with his dialogue

Oh neighbor

Eddie had been eyeing the empty house next door. He watched as months and months went by and the house still was up for sale. He didn't care too much for his old neighbor, and he hoped the next one wouldn't be as annoying.

Eddie went for a run every morning. He was older and understood his diet of cigarettes and beer wasn't going to help in the long run. His white tank top clung to his sweaty body as he ran up the hill. His music blasted in his ears as he made it over the hill, his house in view. But also, a moving truck in the next-door driveway. Eddie planned to just go inside. Greeting a new neighbor wasn't something he cared to do. Until he saw the neighbor.

A younger girl, grunted as she carried heavy boxes into her new home. Eddie didn't realize he was standing on the sidewalk, his eyes zoned in on her. And on the way she bent over, giving him a glimpse of her breasts. Eddie couldn't help but feel a twitch in his cock, his hand immediately going down and adjusting.

He smiled when she looked up, her eyes meeting his.

"Hi!" She said excitedly. Her voice was sweet and higher.

"Hi." He said, a smile on his face as she walked closer to him. Her breasts bounced as she moved and Eddie loved it.

"I just moved in, I'm Y/N!" Eddie barely heard her. His focus is on her breasts. His eyes traveled along with the drops of sweat that went down the center of her chest.

"Eddie." He muttered out. "Boyfriend coming to help, or do you need a hand?" He asked.

He felt a sense of pride when she checked him out, her eyes focused on his arms. Eddie may have flexed when he noticed, then enjoyed the way she shyly looked away.

"No boyfriend. Help would be lovely." She said. And Eddie agreed, but her bouncing on his cock would be lovely too.

Eddie kept his word and helped her move everything inside. He stayed to help her put up shelves and other things she needed a hand with. Eddie needed her hand for some help.

Even though it was sweaty and tiring work, he enjoyed sneaking glances at her ass when she'd bend over. Or when she reached up high and her thong poked out from her shorts. And he enjoyed it when she hugged him goodbye and her breasts pushed against his chest.

~~~

After that, they became close friends. Y/N enjoyed spending time with him and drinking some beers as they watched sports. She didn't question Eddie's interest in her or question why he seemed to only spend time with her. She figured he was a friendly neighbor.

But with Eddie, he didn't do anything unless it benefited him. Sure, he liked spending time with her. But more importantly, he wanted to mark her off from the rest of the neighborhood. If a neighbor showed up, he was there behind her with a smirk on his face. The neighborhood was filled with old single men. The only type of people taking up a one-bedroom home, except for the young girls just starting their life. Unaware of the preying eyes that lurk.

"Thanks, gorgeous," Eddie said, taking the cold beer from Y/N's hand. Y/N blushed and looked away. Eddie always had that effect on her. He made her nervous and giddy.

She didn't say anything as she sat next to him, she turned on the TV as the game started. Eddie's arm wrapped around the couch, resting behind her head as she moved slightly into his body. Even though he did it every single time, her heart would skip a beat. Then he'd do this thing where he'd reach down and squeeze her shoulder, then return it to the couch. And Y/N couldn't help but love it.

She wasn't a fan of the male gaze and she always tried to hide from it. But the way Eddie looked at her made her feel unstoppable. He looked at her with so much hunger that it made her shiver. No matter what she wore, his eyes were glued to her. Something about his older eyes and rough hands made her crave him.

~~~

It was the Stanley Cup Final so they decided to go out to the bar to watch it. Y/N stressed for hours about what to wear. It wasn't a date and she knew that. But she'd be damned if his eyes looked at anyone that wasn't her.

She grabbed tight jeans and a jersey. Confidence in her bones as she did her makeup and hair. When she felt loved by the reflection in the mirror, she began her walk to his house. She felt her insides warm when he smiled at her. His smile always gave her butterflies.

"Baby looks sexy." He complimented, a wet kiss on her cheek as he passed her to go out the door. He reached behind him, locking the door. She smiled as she felt the roughness of his beard still on her skin and the wetness of his lips. She blushed at his compliment, happily taking his hand as they walked to the small bar down the road.

It was a small town, and that meant sleazy guys at bars who didn't understand no. Y/N moved closer to Eddie when she felt that male gaze that made her sick. Eddie's arm wrapped around her.

"Fuck off, she's taken." He growled as a guy whistled as they walked into the bar. Y/N smiled at the idea of being taken by him. She wanted him to mean it, but he probably said it to help the men leave her alone. Eddie slipped his hand into her back jeans, and Y/N swore she felt his squeeze a tiny bit. But when she looked at him, his eyes were on the screen.

They sat at the bar for hours, laughing and cheering for their team. A platter of onion rings and cheese curds was in front of them next to their cold beers.

"Gonna run to the bathroom before the last period starts," Eddie said, a kiss planted on her forehead and a ruffle to her hair as he walked past her. Y/N groaned as she fixed her hair. Eddie enjoyed that she was young because he felt like he could treat her young. Y/N found Eddie's age a turn-on, but his teasing was so elementary school. Like when the guy bullies the girl he likes. And she loved it. She wouldn't mind if he yanked her hair and ran away.

Y/N peeled the coating off the onion ring as she watched the commercials. A body next to her caught her attention. A random man sitting there.

"I'm sorry! My friend is sitting there." She said politely.

"Why don't I keep it warm until she's back? Pretty young girl like you shouldn't be left alone." The man said, his finger running down her face. She shivered in fear and moved her face out of his reach. When Eddie called her a young girl, she liked it. But hearing it from a loser at the bar made her feel sick. "Been years since I've had young pussy."

"Okay, not happening. My boyfriend is in the bathroom and he wouldn't like the way you're talking to me, and neither do I. So leave." She said as strongly as she could. Praying the man didn't hear the shakiness in her voice and how her leg bounced.

"But I thought you were with a friend?" The man said, smirking as he caught her lie. "So is it a friend or boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend," Eddie said from behind her. Y/N felt all the air return to her lungs when his voice reached her ears. She looked behind him, a terrified look in her eyes. Eddie felt a twig in his heart at how scared she looked. But also felt a twitch in his cock by the way she looked at him for saving. Her scared puppy eyes.

"So beat it or get your ass kicked. Up to you." Eddie shrugged, his jaw tensed and clenched.

The man held up his arms and went to walk away. "Actually, on a second thought," Eddie said. Y/N was confused until Eddie punched the guy straight across the face.

"That's for thinking about her."

Eddie's hand grabbed hers as he walked them out of the bar.

"We don't have to leave! I'm sure he won't bug us now." Y/N said, she knew it wasn't her fault but she couldn't help but feel guilty about cutting Eddie's night short.

"You being comfortable is more important, we can go to my place and finish the game. Just you and I." He said, his hand slipped into her back pocket again.

Once they made it back to his house, she headed for the couch, but Eddie's hand laced with hers and he walked her to the bedroom. She wasn't sure why. He didn't say a word, just letting her hand go as he began to take off his jersey. She tried to move her eyes away from his toned chest. His chest hair and tattoos. Then his happy trail that traveled down to his jeans.

"Got something there." Eddie teased, his thumb wiped away the imaginary drool at the corner of her mouth. She felt her whole body flame in embarrassment.

"Oh, hush." She said, pretending he didn't get her flustered....again. He didn't stop there, his hands on his belt as he removed his jeans. Y/N gulped as his boxers came into view. More tattoos scattered on his thighs and she tried not to whimper. He was always toned, and his arms were always strong and attractive. But she never thought she could find legs attractive. But the black ink and tight muscles did wonders for his body.

"The game?" She squeaked out, her eyes scanning the room. That's when she realized there wasn't a TV. She didn't have time to be confused, in seconds her back was against the bed and his heavy body was on top of her.

"Mhhm, this is my game." He said, his hand skimming down her body to take off her Jersey. She couldn't help but feel so turned on by the way he took control. She shivered as her skin hit the air. He took in the sight of her bra, before moving down to yank down her jeans. She didn't protest, she wanted this in so many ways.

"Ever since you moved in, I've been dying to know what your beautiful cunt would smell like." His words made her shiver. Anything he said somehow was the most attractive thing she's heard.

She moaned when he bit at the small skin above her panties, then his head moved down. His lips kissed her cunt over her panties. She could feel a wet spot growing. And she whimpered when his tongue flicked the wet spot. She wanted to hide her face in embarrassment.

"Wet and gorgeous." He said into her panties. His lips still left small kisses as his nose inhaled her scent. His nose rubbed her clit and she felt her body twitching.

"Smell so innocent and pure." He growled. His hands yanked her panties to the side as he attacked her cunt. His tongue licked between her folds as his nose kept rubbing her clit. She never had someone attack her cunt with so much need. He ate her like he was starving.

His growling and desperation had her dripping. Of course, his tongue lapped all of it up. Her hands were in his hair as he continued his attack on her cunt. She felt powerless in the best kind of way. Like he was on the hunt for her and she was compelled to lay there and take it all.

"I've thought about this pussy since day one." He said in between breaths, then his lips back on her cunt.

"What about it?" She gasped out. She wasn't sure she ever experienced a man being so captivated by her body. Maybe it was an older guy thing.

She whined when his warm tongue left her, but his fingers replaced his nose as he rubbed her clit.

"How you tasted, how wet you can get. How delicious you smell from miles away." He growled, his words doing things to both of them. His cock was aching in his boxers, but his fingers didn't leave her clit.

"How innocent your cunt would be as I completely drilled myself into you. No mercy on how tight your cunt is. Because now it's mine and I'll do whatever I want with it." He said, his fingers gone from her clit, his hand slamming down to smack her aching cunt. She whimpered loudly, tears spilling down her face as she felt herself pulsing and clenching.

"Fuck, Eddie." She moaned.

"Mr. Munson to you." He said, another slap to her cunt.

She whined as he took out his cock. He was so red, long, and thick. The veins travel to his leaking tip.

"Condom?" She gasped out as his tip teased her clit.

"Nope. I'm gonna fill you to the brim with my cum. You're mine now and not going anywhere." He growled, his hands on the side of her head as he pushed himself into her. He shivered as her cunt clenched around his cock. She cried as he forced his cock fully inside of her. She felt the way he dreamed she would. He enjoyed how tight she was and forced her body to take him.

She was so warm and he wanted to keep his cock in her forever.

"Oh my god." She moaned, his thrusts were fast and hard. The sound of his balls smacking against her skin made her cunt clench. She knew Eddie was a dominant guy, but the way he fucked her for his needs made her want him even more. She loved the idea of being owned by him. The condom was the last night on her mind as she felt every vein in his cock rubbing against her.

"See, so much better raw. I can feel every fucking inch of you. Pretty cunt just gripping me, wanting to keep me inside. Greedy little girl." He teased, a smirk on his lips as he kept his eyes on her.

Her brain barely focused on the words he said, too fucked out. But somehow being called a little girl by him felt like she was being scolded and she was surprised how much she loved it.

"Make me cum, Munson." She begged, her fingers scraping down his back. An animal-like growl left his throat as he felt his skin being carved into it. His fingers worked perfectly on her clit, she came with a loud whimper. Her back pushed off the bed as her chest smacked into his. His arm wrapped around her, holding her against him as he fucked into her. He moaned as he felt his pubic hair soaked in her.

"Look at that mess you made." He mocked, yanking her hair and forcing her to see his drenched hair and how wet his cock looked slipping inside of her.

"Squirted all over me." He smirked, his lips crashing down on hers as he emptied himself inside of her.

~~~

A week passed after the best night of her life. And in the best way possible, Eddie was more obsessed with her. She was claimed as his and he made sure to show everyone.

At the grocery store? The second she bent over, his hand gripped her ass. No care about the older couple that gasped and ran.

Getting gas? He had her pressed against the car with his tongue in her mouth.

She lost all control around him. She found herself doing things she never thought she'd do. He had her bent over her car in daylight in the middle of the driveway.

Had her quietly screaming as his fingers pounded inside of her at the movie theater.

"I love you." He whispered into her ear, his arm wrapped around her as they rested in his bed.

"I love you." She said, resting her eyes. Half way asleep until she felt his cock entering her again for the fourth time that night.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

[m-ilkiee]

STUPID L♡VE - Toxic! Megumi Fushiguro x Fem! Reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [warning]: dark content, no curse au, aged up Megumi (both are in their midtwenties) fem!bodied reader, heavy angst, toxic and abusive relationship, love drunk reader, jealous megumi, abandoment issues, exes to "lovers", mentions of alcohol and drug use, smut, mean dom! Megumi, sub!reader, coercion, noncon to dubcon, manhandling, choking cunnilingus, mentions of blowjobs and face fucking, squirting, use of restraint, slut-shaming, mutual pining, manipulation, implied baby trapping, gaslighting

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [wc]: 5.01k

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [r-18+] not suitable for people aged 17 and under

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [masterlist] [taglist] [main page]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [authors note]: if you liked this, consider reblogging and commenting your thoughts, I'd love to hear them♡ this is a prelude to my megumi series "E-boys Ruined my life" so if you're interested in this, consider sticking around for a full series.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

IT was inevitable that you and Megumi were going to eventually break up.

Everyone else could see the signs as clear as the day that you two wouldn't last, that you two shouldn't have lasted, and yet this cat and mouse game you called a relationship spanned for four whole months, longer than anything he ever had before you and honestly he was shocked because it wasn't meant to last that long.

After all, he hated how clingy you were every time the two of you were together, holding onto him as if he was your lifeline, your sweet words of affirmation purring into his ears every time you settled yourself beside him. He hated that genuine smile you always had on your lips anytime you saw him, a scowl marring his pretty features whenever you entered the room, wrapping your arms around his lanky frame, your soft lips pressed on his cheek affectionately. He hated how you would stare at him with your emotions bare for him to see, especially during sex, always whimpering out praises to him, his name falling out your mouth, no matter how fast he was going just to shut you up because he knew that you couldn't keep up when he thrust at such an insane pace, no matter what pain he inflicted in you, forcing his cock down your throat just to see you suffer taking all of him with tears running down your cheeks. You never showed animosity to him, not even when you knew that when he's done using your body, he'd just put on his clothes and leave you there, aching, bruised, and too exhausted.

It was baffling how despite everything you stayed by his side, your love never wavering when it was his goal to destroy that happiness you had so that you could be like him; miserable and very self-aware of how the world was cruel to naive clowns like you.

You called it devotion, he called it stupidity and never hesistated to remind you how much of a stupid girl you were.

And finally, after four months of trying to break your resolve, he got tired of trying and told you it was over. "You make me sick," he had spat out in a cold tone, watching your face morph into one of pure shock while you just helplessly stood in front of his penthouse.  "I'm done with you! Just get lost and pretend you don't know me." He concluded, trying to even out his heavy breathing.

Megumi didn't understand why his heart dropped to his stomach the moment you let out a loud, heart-wrenching wail the moment he slammed the door in your face, but he pushed it aside, disgusted he'd even think of caring about you in the first place, drowning your pleas and unsolicited apologies by increasing the sound of the call of duty he was playing before your visit.

The breakup wasn't so bad on him at first. He went back to his old life like getting high with his friends when he was free and attending parties only because there was some needy chick ready to help him get his dick wet somehow. He could feel a bit of your absence, you were always the one taking him home and putting him to bed whenever he was intoxicated, and in his moments of weakness, he'd ask you to lie beside him, resting your head on his chest and warming him up.

The bed is awfully cold without you lulling him to sleep, and now he'd spend his drunken nights forcing himself to remember why he hates you and why he doesn't need you until he falls back to a troubled sleep.

Women became a blur to him very soon, non-memorable compared to you. You were always willing for him to break you, your lips making such pretty sounds whenever he touched you, kissed you, or had sex with you. Your body was his, free for just him; you became his fantasy, his daydream whenever he was alone in his bedroom.

You always cradled him whenever he had nightmares of his childhood, despite all the caustic words he threw at you about leaving him all alone like his father did, calling you a slut, a whore in moments of jealousy before ripping your pants off or forcing you on your knees to remind you who you belonged to, because he never fully trusted you when he'd see you hanging around guys. They could have taken you at any point in time, they were far nicer and sweeter to you than he ever was.

The memories of you eat him alive slowly until he can't take it anymore. He accepts that as twisted as it sounds, he is actually in love with you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"You make me sick."

You sit at the window of the cafe, staring into space as you ruminate on Megumi's words yet again, a look of longing plastered across your face. It seemed that everyone you ever loved always, always felt disgusted by you no matter what you do.

You can remember the last time you met Megumi, back in high school. He was the school's sweetheart, everyone loved him and naturally gravitated towards the relatively cool and calm boy back then. His looks were also a booster to his already popular relationship; he was beautiful, the embodiment of perfection, with an arrogant grace to his walking step. He was on his way to class when he noticed that you were crouched over in a corner, tears glistening in your eyes, sobs escaping your lips as your period cramps wreaked havoc on you. You expected him to just ignore your presence like everyone else who saw you on their way to class did and you waited for him to just walk off, tears still rolling down your cheeks.

So when he stopped right in front of you, drawing the uniform of his school trousers up a bit to let him squat to your level, you could barely hide your shock, before it was replaced with pain again. Wordlessly, you let him pick you up from the floor, into his arms in a bridal fashion and walked you to the nurse's office, never leaving your side even after you slept off.

By the time you woke up, he was staring at your face like you were sleeping beauty, his green eyes glimmering in the setting sun, legs crossed over each other and his lips pressed in a line. He reached over and gently touched your cheek before telling you to go to the nurse's office the next time you felt like you were having cramps. You remembered the embarrassment you felt before it melted away into the warmth of affection and gratitude for his help. He walked you home that day, even giving up his sweater for you because you had bled out and stained your skirt, telling you not to worry about it and to return it tomorrow, only for you to search for him the next day to discover he had moved away to another school.

Ten years into the future and you bumped into him in your neighborhood. Apparently, he was your neighbor's best friend, Yuuji Itadori and he came for a visit. Despite him growing much taller, his chest and shoulders broader, his green eyes cold and devoid of any form of life, and his face matured, he was still the same boy -now a man- you fell in love with. Then, you should have known he wasn't interested in you when he pretended he didn't know or remember who you were when his eyes betrayed him.

You should have seen the signs when he finally acknowledged that he did know you, just that he didn't want to talk with anyone from his past; You included.

Or even if you were blind, Yuuji had tried to warn you that his friend was not the same as he was in the past, that he had underlying issues he's yet to resolve, "Megumi has grown cold over the years." Yuuji warned you as soon as he saw you were teetering on the ledge of 'I can fix him' like the other women Megumi has had in his life. He didn't want you to end up in a situation where you were devastated; you were a good person who deserved better.

But even with that information, you told him that you'd warm up Megumi's heart again; he'd be happy if he had someone to share his burdens with. Yuuji even brought Nobara, another friend who knew Megumi to try and talk to you. "Look for someone else." She warned, trying to change your mind. "I've seen how other women suffer for loving him. Do you think you can handle him when he is in one of his moods?" she asked, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you hard so that your senses would come back.

They stopped trying to help you as soon as Megumi announced that you two were a thing.

Looking back, you realize that you were a lost cause to them, and to be honest, your fate hasn't changed because you still cry for him just like you did all those years, holding onto his sweater as your lifeline when you cried every night, your heart aching in your chest with longing.

Not anymore though.

The sweater sits beside you, neatly folded in a ziplock bag, the only thing keeping you from getting closure from your failed relationship with the man you thought would love you back after all these years. Do you really think you were in a romance novel? Real-life didn't work that way and it was painful you had to realize the hard way. Sighing, you picked up your phone and searched for his number to text him:

You: I’m returning your sweater.

My love 💞: I don't remember giving you a sweater. Must have been one of the guys you were flirting with when we were in a relationship

You: it’s been in my drawer for about ten years. I think it’s time to let it go.

My love 💞: oh

My love 💞: You kept that thing. Always so sentimental.

My love 💞: Just donate it or better still, set it on fire.

You: I’m not burning it and I’m not donating it, Fushiguro. I’m giving it back to you to let go of whatever ties I have with you.

My love 💞: fine. Whatever rocks your boat, I’ll just burn it myself.

Frustration threatens to set in, but you remind yourself that it wasn't worth it anymore. At this point, you already expect this response from him and if this wasn't enough sign that you should break free from whatever feelings you have for him, then you don't know what is.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

  TWO big dogs running from the open door to greet you in the hallway was a refreshing start. You smile as they settle on your foot before kneeling and hugging them tightly.

Honestly, you feel they are the only good traits Megumi has. He takes good care of these dogs, pets and pampers them more than he’s ever treated you.

Sometimes you hate him for it. Maybe if you were a damn dog he'd like you more.

"I've got to go guys," You whisper as they nuzzle your chest and neck affectionately. "Megumi doesn't want me here so this might be the last time you'd see me." You frown as soon as you hear them whimper as if asking you to stay longer. Maybe if it was a different circumstance, you would have.

If you stay any longer, you wouldn't move on.

Anxiously, you pull away from the dogs and stand upright, before making your way to his front door, your legs trembling from the tension you feel from within your mind. You know you aren't ready to face Megumi, not after the humiliating breakup that occurred right at his front door you were about to go back to again. Maybe giving him back this sweater was a mistake, you should have just burnt it like he suggested or given it to charity, anything to avoid confronting Megumi at this point.

You hesitantly knock on his open door gently, hoping that he wouldn't come out and you would just drop it on the doorstep and run away.

The door swung open and you gulped visibly as soon as his intimidating figure hovers above you, dressed in his slacks and dress shirt, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, hair disheveled and green eyes piercing through your soul and making you lose all feelings in your legs. Your voice got caught in your throat as he stares down at you, his pretty lips morphing into a smirk as soon as he sees you shuddering under his gaze.

"I haven't got all day, I just came from work and I'm tired," His tone is dry, seemingly amused at your lack of courage now that you are face to face. "Hurry up and give it to me," he demands lowly, leaning back on the lenticel.

You feel your hands shake violently as you slowly raise the package to his face. Your eyes stay glued to the ground, not wanting to meet his frightening gaze in fear of breaking down if you look him in the eye. Megumi's lips stretch into a bigger smirk as he watches you tremble before him, holding out the sweater as a protective shield, as if it can protect you from his eyes that linger on your curves, drinking in every dip and bulge while you stand motionless.

Deciding to play with your mind for a bit, he grabs your chin firmly, forcing you to look him in the eye. "You seemed so brave in the text messages," he scoffs at you disapprovingly. "I could swear you were going to break down my door if I didn't take the sweater from you."

Finally finding your voice, you force out a quiet "let me go" enough to reach his ears. This was what you were avoiding, for him to corner you like this to the point you would give in to his whims, just like when you were together. But you aren't, and he has no right to touch you like this anymore, so you bring your free hand up to him and push his chest as hard as you can.

"It almost seems like the sweater was an excuse for you to come and see me huh?" He teases,  eyeing your body up and down as you attempt to push him away, internally laughing at your effort. "That's why you're so inappropriately dressed, isn't it?" he spits in his usual caustic tone as he refers to the dress you wore that clung to your body like a second skin, his member twitching at the sight of your beautiful body -your delicious curves, your terrified face, your thighs, everything. He remembers how willing you were for him to mark you, to put his fingerprints on your thighs, that may be why you were exposing them right now, right? And your chest, you would always throw your head back when he groped you through your top while fingering you, your neck exposed for him to litter marks all over them.

You belong to him, he can see that now.

"Megumi stop!" You hiss, finally showing how upset you were with him, snapping him out of his dirty thoughts. Scoffing, he slowly let go of you, taking a step back before opening the door wider for you. "You should come inside, I'm not sure the neighbors would appreciate you disturbing their peaceful Monday evening." He advises in an even and sharp tone. You suddenly feel small under his predatory gaze and your instincts tell you to reject his offer.

If you step inside that house, you would end up doing things that you weren't meant to do with him.

"That's not necessary-" you begin, now attempting to move back, pushing his sweater towards his line of sight. "Just take it and let me go."

"You know damn well I was never interested in that stupid sweater in the first place," he states, eyes not leaving your cleavage. His heart pounds in his chest as his erection straining against his pants. "Besides, I want to talk, so let's go inside." he insists impatiently, his eyes glued onto you.

"I'm not going in there with you."

"It wasn't a suggestion," his dark voice catches you off guard, his larger hand capturing your wrist in a bruising grip, causing you to gasp as he yanks you closer to his body, his hot breath fanning your face and neck, sending shivers down your spine. "unless you want me to fuck you in front of my neighbors, get inside, now."

You didn’t have to be told twice.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

  YOU stifle a cry of pain as soon as he manhandles you into his living room, pushing you onto the love seat roughly, eliciting a pained gasp from your pretty lips -music to his ears and his hard-on as he hovers above you, dangerous green eyes undressing every inch of you, wondering where he should start devouring you from. His eyes settle on your thighs and he wonders to himself if he ever took his time to taste you the last time he bedded you. He keeps on moving towards the chair until he stands right in front of you, not breaking eye contact as he wedges a knee in between your closed legs, forcing them open without a word as he climbs onto your frightened figure, face hovering above yours while his broad arms cages you in.

"You know, I missed you," He confesses as his mint breath fanned your lips, not breaking eye contact with you. "I missed this," he leans closer before pressing his lips against your neck briefly, making you shudder at how cold his soft lips felt on your neck. He raises his head from your neck to look at your face again, pressing his forehead against yours and forcing you to inhale his expensive perfume, the scent intoxicating and overwhelming you, as typical of Megumi.

"We're not together anymore. I need to go-" You weakly protest, only for him to silence you with kisses, each harsher than the last until you give up and just kiss him back, letting him invade and conquer your mouth with his tongue, exploring every inch until you are both breathless and pulls away from you, foreheads still connected as he steadies his breathing.

"You want to leave me, huh?" He snarls, eyes, knee pressing harder on your throbbing clit, earning a choked moan from you. "Already found someone else? or you're fucking my friends behind my back?"

He doesn't even let you answer as he climbs off you and yanks your body to a face-down position, tying your hands behind your back in a secure knot with his tie, before yanking you back to your position. "You didn't even beg me, you didn't fall on your knees to pray that I return to you." he scoffs as he looks at his masterpiece; you tied up on his chair, legs sprawled out for him to see your clothed crotch, exposed for him to see, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "Or maybe you want me to beg you? For me to apologize and get on my knees," He begins, his knees hitting the plush rug, hot heavy breaths fanning your thighs as his large hands hold them apart. "You want me to eat you out as punishment, huh?"

"Megumi, no, I didn't say-"

You go silent as soon as his head dove into your thighs and took a long sniff of your panties, wet with arousal, proof of your body betraying your mind. Your breathing becomes uneven as soon as you felt his hands move from your thighs to the panties, ripping them apart with a firm pull. Your worried eyes catch him staring at your wet core like a snack, licking his lips hungrily before darting his pink tongue against your clit experimentally. You shut your eyes in embarrassment when you let out a loud moan, jerking your legs at the pleasurable sensation, only getting louder as he aggressively dives his tongue inside you, his straight nose bumping onto your sensitive bud as he eats you out.

Your eyes roll back as soon as he threw your legs over his shoulders, grabbing your pillowy hips and rocking them into your face, thrusting his tongue faster while staring into your eyes with his predator glare, getting you weaker in the knees as he moves at an inhuman pace while he tongue fucks you.

The wet sounds of his tongue gliding into your core, while you moan his name like a mantra -as if that would ever make him go easier on you- only seem to spur him on, eager to taste your cum on his tongue before he properly fucks you to submission.

He is depraved and he knows it, but he doesn't care as long as he has your love and your body all to himself irrespective of how he treated you.

"Megumi-" you cry out, wanting to push his head off your core when you felt a strange coil in your stomach, much different than your usual orgasm -stronger perhaps- building up in your stomach. "Megumi stop, I feel strange," you cry out to him, only for him to send a glare at your direction, moving his head faster while he rocks your hips at a maddening pace despite your protests until he feels you violently shudder, a huge spurt of your cum decorating his tongue and parts of his face much to your horror.

"Shit," He rasps hungrily, lapping and sucking at every drop until he was satisfied, falling back onto the balls of his feet weakly, lips still glistening with your release and his spit, catching his breath for a bit before his pleasure-filled eyes flicker up to your shame-filled face again. "That felt great huh?" he asks quietly, moving up to his feet to stand, hands shakingly unbuttoning his shirt before shrugging it off his shoulders to reveal his beautiful lean torso.

You find yourself ogling at him again and yet you don't stop this time; What was the point? You had given up long before he made you come into his house anyways and now that he has eaten you out, your core only aches for him to fill you up to the brim like he always did, to shape you according to his lengthy cock, your anger and hurt buried deep down by how sexy he looks devouring and overwhelming you.

"See?" he mocks as he loosens his belt, noticing the horny, needy look you had on your face at the sight of him lowering his trousers and boxers to set his lengthy dick free into his palm. "didn't I tell you that you would like it?" he asks menacingly, pumping his dick in his hand as he hovers above your body, waiting for your answer while he climbs on top of you, positioning his cock near your slit. He notices your eyes greedily looking at his member instead of his face and for some reason, it angers him. Hissing under his breath, he grabs your throat and presses his fingers at the sides for you to pay attention to him. "I was asking a question you whore," He states, trying to keep his temper in check while you gasp slightly at the restriction. "but it seems you only like my dick huh? that's all you want?" he sneers as he buries himself inside you. "After I made you cum, you still can't pay attention to me?"

"No, Megumi, it's not like that, wait-" you stutter out, your brain getting foggy as he sheaths himself inside you fully. "Wait, wait, it's too much, pull out, pull out"

"Shut up." He snarls, gripping your throat tighter and forcing you to be quiet.

You could only moan as he begins to pump himself inside of you in quick successions, occasionally pulling himself out and leaving you clenching on nothing, only for him to slam himself inside you and move faster with much vigor, swearing as he pistons himself inside your pussy, hitting every spot you swear he didn't know or care about before, bringing the both of you to the edge again. He mercilessly pounds inside you, his hand releasing your throat and grabbing your feet to press them hard onto your chest so that he goes deeper inside you, as opposed to him just pulling out and dumping his load on your belly when he wasn't with a condom.

As if he is trying to breed you with his children.

Your eyes widen in realization, but it was too late, lost in the sea of pleasure as your climaxes hit, his hot seed pouring deep inside you as you cream all over his orgasming cock, the action only spurring him to cum faster until he was spent, leaving his dick inside you long after it softens.

You both just stay in that same position for a while, his head pressed against your neck until he pulls away from you and leaves you there in an uncomfortable position. You shudder at the feeling of his hot semen trickle down your thighs, tears threatening to gather in your eyes at the realization of his intent before hiding them once you hear his quiet footsteps moving over to you again, bucket in hand and two rags - one in his other hand and one hanging on his neck as if he prepared all this for you.

It was shocking because he would have told you to get lost by now, bare assed underneath your dress, struggling not to let it drop on his floor lest you make him furious.

Kneeling in between your thighs, he soaks the rag and squeezes it hard before wiping off the excess cum and spit on them, his eyes never leaving his work before dumping it inside the water and taking the other one to dry you off. Satisfied, he gets up and reaches behind you before tugging off his silk tie with the flick of his wrist, setting you free from his makeshift bondage.

Free enough to slap him, but you know better than to wander into that dangerous territory.

"I'm tired," He mutters once he gets up. He isn't lying; the dark circles underneath his eyes and the sudden fatigue from the slump of his shoulders gave him away. Has he been sleeping well? "come on, let's go to bed."

You don't protest -you don't even have the chance- as he yanks you up from the chair and takes you in his arms, before making his way to the stairs until you both reach the hallways leading to his room, a place you've always been familiar with for a while. It felt nostalgic in a sick sense, him carrying you to the place of rest while you were aching, just like the first time the two of you met before he moved away.

Maybe Megumi was still that same boy you craved for all those years, kind and caring, willing to help you out. Or maybe he was always the man you devoted your heart to, depraved and cruel and you just didn't have enough time to find out who he truly was because he left. The rumors back in high school about him beating up bullies who pissed him off and then taking advantage of the kindness of the victims by getting whatever he wanted makes more sense now to you as you're seeing it first hand.

You should hate him, really, but he's laying you down on his bed like a gentleman and he's climbing beside you, throwing his hand over your torso and pulling you closer to him until your body presses against his.

How could you hate him when you can hear his heartbeat against his chest while you rest your head on it, yours following in sync as you close your eyes? He made love to you on his couch, ate you out, cleaned you up, and brought you here to rest with him and you thought of hating him? Maybe this was why you made him sick in the first place, your ingratitude! Didn't you see he has changed? Sure, his words were caustic, but that's just the way he talks, you should know by now.

"Megumi." You call out quietly, feeling his sharp jaw on your head. He hums in response, resting his palm flat agaist your thigh.

"I love you."

You expect him to scoff at you before telling you to pick your shoes and leave. You even expect a cold "I know" or "Whatever you say" to come out of his mouth before turning his body to the opposite side and leaving you alone.

Instead, you feel his lips inch closer to your ears before whispering a quiet, "I love you too" and then kissing the shell of your ear, while grinding his semi-hard cock against your ass subtly, light sighs escaping his lips as he felt his dick strain his pants again.

The feeling of his hard-on against your soft ass made you moan softly in response, before shuddering as his large hand pulled your clothes up and guided his cock to the opening of your already wet folds, ready to fill you up to the brim all over again just to show his love.

And he'll keep doing it again every chance he gets, every time he sees you until your stomach starts to swell with his child and you have no excuse not to beg for him to come back when he decides to break you again. The game his twisted mind made up is far over and not even these feelings he harbors for you deep down in his heart would stop him from further destroying you until you were just as miserable as he was and until he - and no one else but him, becomes your only source of joy.

"You love me right? Then you won't mind being my mommy, would you?"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ layla 2024, do not repost, translate or plagarize my post on this platform or any other platform. before you follow, read my rules first.

[moonxytcn]

Shadows of Dragonstone

| Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!reader

summary – You have been Rhaenyra's servant since you were a child and you will always be there for her, no matter what

tags & warnings – rhaenyra x fem!servant!reader, angst, a little dark themes?, fluffy if you squint your eyes.

a/n – I'm just back in my era of love for her. My queen! 🤭

| English is not my first language so there may be some errors.

| Masterlist —✽— Pinned post

 ㅤㅤ✯ ━━━━━━ ✿ ✫ ✿ ━━━━━━ ✯

–––

The halls of Dragonstone are cold and silent, a far cry from the warmth and bustling life of King's Landing. Here, the stone walls seem to echo the turmoil in your heart, reflecting the stark isolation that Rhaenyra must feel. She has always been a flame in the darkness, a beacon of strength and defiance, but now, that flame flickers dangerously low.

You have been her personal servant since childhood, a constant presence by her side. The bond you share goes beyond duty; it is a secret love forged in the crucible of court intrigues and whispered promises. It began on that fateful night when Daemon took her to the house of pleasure, a night that changed everything between you. Now, with Harwin Strong's departure to Harrenhal, Rhaenyra's heart aches with a new kind of pain, one that you feel deeply within your own soul.

The morning is bleak as you approach her chambers, carrying a tray of breakfast. You hesitate at the door, listening for any sound from within. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the distant roar of the sea. Taking a deep breath, you knock gently before entering.

Rhaenyra sits by the window, her silhouette framed against the grey sky. Her eyes are distant, lost in thoughts you can only guess at. The fire in the hearth struggles to warm the room, much like your presence struggles to warm her heart these days.

"Good morning, Princess." You say softly, setting the tray on a small table. "I brought you breakfast."

She turns her gaze to you, and for a moment, the mask of the future queen slips, revealing the vulnerable woman beneath. "Thank you." She murmurs, but makes no move to eat.

You approach her cautiously, your heart aching at the sight of her so desolate. "Rhaenyra." You whisper, daring to reach out and touch her hand. "Please, you must take care of yourself."

She looks at you, and the pain in her eyes is almost unbearable. "I am tired." She admits, her voice barely audible. "So very tired of losing those I care about."

You kneel beside her, your fingers entwining with hers. "You are not alone." You say, your voice fierce with the depth of your feelings. "I am here. I will always be here."

Her grip tightens on your hand, and for a moment, it seems as if she might break down. But Rhaenyra Targaryen is nothing if not resilient. She takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders, the mask slipping back into place. "We must be strong," she says, though you can hear the strain in her voice. "For the realm."

You nod, understanding the weight of her words. "For the realm." You echo, though in your heart, it is for her that you would do anything.

The days pass in a blur of duties and stolen moments. You do your best to be a comfort to her, to remind her of the warmth and love that still exists in the world, even in the shadow of Dragonstone. It is a delicate balance, keeping your relationship hidden from prying eyes while giving her the solace she so desperately needs.

One night, as you help her prepare for bed, she turns to you with a look of determination. "I need to feel alive again." She says, her voice trembling with emotion. "Will you help me?"

You nod, your heart pounding. "Always." You whisper.

She leads you to the bed, her hands shaking slightly as she begins to undress. You follow her lead, your own nerves taut with anticipation and fear. This is different from the secret moments you've shared before. There is a desperation in her touch, a need to forget the pain if only for a little while.

As you lie together in the dim light of the chamber, you hold her close, your bodies entwined. Her tears dampen your skin, and you kiss them away, each touch a silent promise of love and loyalty. In the darkness, the walls of Dragonstone seem to fade, leaving just the two of you in a world of your own making.

Afterward, you lie together, her head resting on your chest. The storm outside rages on, but here, in this moment, there is a fragile peace. "Thank you." She whispers, her voice breaking. "For being here. For loving me."

You kiss the top of her head, your own tears mingling with hers. "Always." You repeat, the word a vow.

But peace in Dragonstone is fleeting. The next day brings more bad news, more reasons for Rhaenyra to steel herself against the world. You stand by her side, offering what comfort you can, but the shadows are ever present, threatening to consume you both.

One evening, as you sit together in front of the hearth, she takes your hand in hers. "I fear I will lose you too." She admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

You squeeze her hand, your heart aching with the weight of her fears. "I am not going anywhere." You promise. "No matter what happens, I will be by your side."

She looks at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and sorrow. "Promise me." She says, her voice trembling. "Promise me that you will stay."

"I promise." You say, the words a binding oath. "I will never leave you."

The days grow shorter, and the nights colder, as the weight of the realm's troubles presses down on you both. But through it all, you hold onto each other, finding strength in the love that binds you.

One night, as the storm outside rages, you wake to find Rhaenyra standing by the window, her silhouette a dark shadow against the flickering light of the fire. You rise and go to her, wrapping your arms around her waist. She leans into you, her body trembling with unspoken fears.

"We will get through this." You whisper, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Together."

She turns in your arms, her eyes searching yours. "I do not know what I would do without you." She admits, her voice breaking.

"You will never have to find out." You say, your voice firm with conviction. "I am yours, Rhaenyra. Now and always."

She kisses you then, a desperate, searching kiss that speaks of all the things words cannot express. You hold her close, pouring all your love and devotion into that kiss, hoping to banish the darkness that surrounds you both.

As the storm rages on, you make love again, finding solace in each other's arms. In the heat of your passion, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you, bound together by love and necessity.

In the aftermath, as you lie together, spent and sated, she turns to you, her eyes soft with affection. "Thank you." She whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

You smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Always." You say, the word a promise and a vow.

The storms of Dragonstone may rage on, and the shadows may threaten to consume you, but in each other, you find the strength to carry on. Together, you face the darkness, knowing that your love is a light that will never be extinguished.

And in the end, that is enough.

[emphistic]

Interlude

A/N: did i write this in half an hour? yes. am i crazy? of course.

"Ah ah ah. I never said you could leave yet."

You immediately stopped in your tracks upon hearing a familiar deep, raspy voice at your back, coming from the confines of your shared bed.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

You whipped your head around, and were met with a set of half-lidded eyes in a shade of deep red. Their owner was propped up on one elbow atop the messy sheets, yawning loudly before running his long fingers through his unruly locks.

Sukuna was never a morning person, and his shifts always started later in the afternoon, so he always used it to his advantage.

Blinking once, twice, thrice, as you nervously averted your gaze away from your very enticing boyfriend, who only continued to stare at you sleepily.

The thought of going back to lay in your comfortable, warm bed was already something you wanted to do terribly, but adding Sukuna into the mix, too? This was like trying to drain the sea.

Merely one look at the pink-haired man, who was only covered waist-down by the blankets on his legs, was enough to pull you back beneath the covers and curl into his side.

However, you had already called sick two times in only a fortnight, and those bills were not going to pay themselves.

Unfortunately for you, or not unfortunately, you and Sukuna had been over this many times. Sukuna always told you, "I don't understand why you keep going back to that shitty job anyway. Just let me take care of you back in my place, I provide substantially for the both of us, anyway."

And besides, there really wasn't a way out for you no matter what.

Sukuna had had so many clients back-to-back lately, that he was forced to stay at the tattoo shop for nights on end. On top of that, Choso was unavailable for God knows why, so Sukuna had to fill in for him as well. And if that wasn't enough, sessions would take longer than expected because clients just wouldn't stop flirting with him, moving or twitching, accidentally messing up his work, talking so obnoxiously to the point Sukuna couldn't even pay attention, etc.

Only recently — just the night before, he was finally granted the chance to come home to you.

And you best believe he was going to spend every hour, minute, and second reminding you that you were his, and his only.

Not even your job's employee, apparently. Sorry not sorry.

But, it's not like you wanted to leave him anyway. You had missed Sukuna as much as he had missed you, if not more.

Phone calls while he was on break, sending memes through your text messages, playing together on Game Pigeon, FaceTimes while eating lunch together, were your only escapes from the sad, miserable Adult Life, into just Sukuna and You World.

"Baby, you know I have to. But I'll be back before you know it, okay? And besides, you need the free time. They've been working you nonstop—"

"I'm fine, not even tired. Don't you dare worry your pretty little head about me. As for free time . . ," Sukuna's held a mischievous glint to them, "how about you spend my free time with me?"

You bit your lip, in contemplation. Although you knew, clear as day, what would happen in the end despite everything.

Deciding to make a run for it, you swung your legs over the bed and planted your bare feet on the freezing-cold floor of your apartment. But before you could even stand up, a thick arm swiftly made its way around your waist and pulled you back to meet a hard, bare chest.

Sukuna was now sitting up.

You lightly gasped, as he brought his lips to your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin.

"Don't think you can run away from me just yet, doll. I haven't seen you in days, and I'm not going to be apart from you for another second."

You squirmed in his grasp, but when you realized his strong hold around your middle wasn't going to let up any time soon, you sighed, and, left with no choice, only slumped back against his chest.

Sukuna grinned, victorious, once again.

The rays of the early sun filtered through the cheap window blinds, and you fluttered your eyelashes, squinting to hide away from the inevitable.

"Yeahh," Sukuna laughed, "that's right, princess. Just listen to me from now on."

You frowned, turning your head around to narrow your eyes at Sukuna.

"Now, what can we do with all this free time? I'm thinking we should try something new." Sukuna raised a brow teasingly, twisting your body around and settling you onto his lap with your thighs on either side of his.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, mister. I'm only staying for five more minutes," you crossed your arms.

Sukuna placed both of his large hands on your hips; it seemed like that was their default resting spot. Every chance he got, they would always end up there. No matter the setting or occasion.

Sukuna let out a deep laugh, "We'll see about that."

-

"Five minutes? You said? Either way, I don't think you're even able to move your legs at this point and walk out of this room."

"S'kuna, you're—ngh—not funny!" Your nipples hardened, and rubbed raw against the material of your shirt.

You braced yourself by placing both hands on the headboard, but it didn't look like anything could help stable you now.

Sukuna licked a stripe up your dampening clit.

Your situation wasn't looking too good. It didn't help that your asshole of a boss just had to call you right then and there.

[metalmonki]

A Well Kept Secret

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

1.3k word count

Summary You and Spencer have been in a secret relationship for a year. When you unexpectedly become pregnant it becomes harder to keep that secret.

fluff

Warnings none

Part 2

The suffocating fluorescent lights of the apartment were a welcome change from the sterile white of the doctor's office. Relief washed over You as you closed the door behind you, the positive pregnancy test clutched tight in your sweaty hand. Today was the day you'd tell Spencer.

Your little secret – the apartment you shared just a few blocks from the office – felt like the perfect place to break the news. Stepping into the dimly lit haven, you called out, "Honey, I'm home!"

The sounds of rustling papers filtered from the living room. Spencer emerged; a pair of reading glasses perched precariously on his nose. A tired smile spread across his face as he saw you. "Y/N! You're back early."

"Yeah," you said, you voice uncharacteristically small. "There's something I need to tell you."

Spencer's brow furrowed. He set his papers down and walked towards you, his concern evident. You took a deep breath, you heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

"So, remember how I wasn't feeling well and left work early yesterday?" you started, your gaze flickering around the room before settling back on him.

"Of course," Spencer said, his brow furrowing further. "Everything okay?"

"The doctor figured out why I've been feeling so..." you hesitated, a shy smile playing on your lips.

Spencer reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. "So? Why have you been feeling so...?"

"We're going to be parents, Spence," You blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in a rush.

Spencer froze, his glasses slipping down his nose slightly. The colour drained from his face, replaced by a mixture of shock and something that looked suspiciously like fear.

"Pregnant?" he finally managed, his voice barely a whisper.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. It was cold and clammy. "Yeah," you said softly. "A month and a half."

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. You could almost hear Spencer's mind racing, cataloguing the implications, the potential career consequences.

"But... but what about work?" he finally choked out. "No one knows we live together, let alone..."

You squeezed his hand gently. "I know, Spence. But they don't need to know everything, do they? We can figure this out, together."

A flicker of hope ignited in Spencer's eyes. He looked at you, a hesitant smile gracing his lips. "Together?"

"Of course," You said, a warmth spreading through your chest. "We're in this together, you and me. We always have been, even if no one else knows it."

Spencer pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. Relief and a touch of nervous excitement mingled in the air of your secret haven. The future was uncertain, but for now, you had each other, and that was all that truly mattered.

The morning commute was a blur. You sat beside Spencer in the passenger seat, the weight of the previous night's conversation heavy in the silence. You stole a glance at him. His brow was furrowed in concentration, fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel.

You knew his reservations stemmed from your hidden relationship, the unspoken pact you'd made to navigate the professional world without letting your personal lives interfere. Now, the carefully constructed barrier threatened to crumble with the news of your baby.

"You okay, Spence?" you finally asked, your voice breaking the tense silence.

Spencer startled, then let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, just thinking." He shot you a quick, worried smile. "About everything, I guess."

You understood. This wasn't just about a baby; it was about a complete overhaul of your carefully constructed world. Your secret apartment, your stolen moments of normalcy, all of it would have to be re-evaluated.

"We'll figure it out," you said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. The touch seemed to ground him, a silent reassurance in the face of the unknown.

He offered a small smile back, his grip tightening on yours for a brief moment before he focused back on the road.

The rest of the ride was filled with a comfortable silence. As you pulled up to the familiar brick facade of the FBI headquarters, You couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension. Today wasn't just any day at the office; it was the day your carefully constructed world would begin to shift, one way or another.

Stepping into the bullpen, a familiar buzz of activity greeted them. Morgan was already at his desk, barking into a phone, while JJ, Garcia and Emily chatted by the coffee pot. You offered weak smiles, your mind preoccupied with how to navigate the coming day.

Settling into your own workspace, you found yourself lost in a case file, the words blurring before your eyes. Every few minutes, you'd glance up at Spencer, who sat across from you, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked on a profile. Your usual comfortable silence felt strained now, laden with unspoken anxieties.

Just as you were about to reach out to Spencer, the bullpen door swung open, and Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner entered. His sharp gaze swept across the room, landing on you for a brief moment before moving on. You felt a familiar knot of tension tighten in your stomach. Telling Hotch about the baby, even without revealing Spencer's involvement, was another hurdle you needed to overcome.

"Sir, could I speak with you for a moment?" You requested standing from your desk.

Hotch nodded, gesturing for you to follow him into his office. Briefly explaining the situation and your concerns about inter-office relationships, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders when Hotch confirmed it wasn't against protocol as long as you remained discreet.

“Why do you ask? Are you seeing someone in the office I should know about?” Hotch asked arching an eyebrow.

“Oh no Hotch but I did loose a bet with Spencer so thank you for that” You smirked at him.

“Let it be a lesson never to place a bet with Spencer” Hotch chuckled.

Elated, you returned to Spencer, a grin plastered on your face. "Hotch says we can be together, as long as we keep things private."

Spencer, however, remained apprehensive. "You told him?"

"No, I just asked about the dating rules," You clarified. "But I will have to tell him about the baby”

"I know" Spencer sighed. "And for now, let's keep me out of it."

You, understanding his reservations, agreed. You returned to Hotch’s office this time revealing your pregnancy but withholding the father's identity. Hotch, to your surprise, offered congratulations and even a hug.

"Does this have anything to do with the question you asked earlier?" he inquired, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Uh no not at all” You giggled at the awkwardness of the situation.

“So whose the lucky guy?” He chuckled.

"He wants to keep it quiet for now," You explained.

"Fair enough," Hotch said, a playful smirk crossing his face. "Just as long as it's not Morgan or Rossi."

"Definitely not!" You chuckled. "Wait, so you'd be okay if it was Reid?"

"He's intelligent and dedicated," Hotch admitted. "Besides, Morgan wouldn't settle down, and Rossi's a little past his prime."

"What about you?" You teased.

Hotch chuckled. "We wouldn’t be having this conversation."

Returning to the bullpen, you announced you pregnancy to you colleagues. While everyone showered you with congratulations, they were naturally curious about the father. They had never heard of you seeing anyone and they knew you weren’t the type to just sleep around.

"His name is Spencer, but don't worry, it's not our Spencer," You assured them with a wink.

"Well, whoever he is, we'll have to meet him," Rossi declared, a glint in his eyes.

"Why?" You questioned.

"Just to make sure the newest member of the BAU family is being well looked after," Rossi winked.

The day continued with a new case, and although You was relegated to paperwork due to your condition, a warm feeling bloomed within you. You had a supportive team, a loving partner, and a future filled with exciting possibilities.