#So it'll all turn out alright in the end

[thegreenleavesofspring]

Love it when my own queue spits out exactly what I need to hear.

[lymtw]

Aftercare with Toji, where after all the roughness and manhandling is over with, he can't take his eyes off of you. All he cares about is making sure that you're not in excruciating pain, yet he hasn't been able to say a word for the past five minutes. You've pressed so many tender kisses to his face and expressed that you're okay enough times to him, but he can't seem to drop the smallest, lingering coil of guilt he feels at the sight of your scuffed up body. You look like you fought off a bear and ripped octopus tentacles off your skin—simultaneously, with all the scratches, bruises, and hickeys that littered you from your jaw to your ankles.

"Quit staring," you say, bringing your knees up and crossing your arms, your hands gripping your biceps.

"Nah- baby..." he finally says, softly, like he's quickly trying to justify the gaze he had set on you. "Come here."

Toji makes quick work of crushing this wave of insecurity that threatens your peace. He knows what you just endured was not the softest experience, and that you practically let him—a man capable of showing the aggression of a pack of wolves, devour you. Really, he did not hold back at all.

You slide down the bed and pull the covers over your body, laying your head on his chest with an arm thrown over his midsection. He pulls you close with an arm wrapped around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your head. "You know I love you, right, mama?"

"Mhm," you hum. Minutes ago you would have thought those words were a cruel joke being played on you with the way he gripped onto you like he wanted it to hurt.

"Wasn't trying to hurt your feelings by staring at you like that. Just did a lot of damage, this time, and it looks like it hurts... a lot."

"I'm fine," you repeat, for the nth time. You look up at him, briefly, sparing a smile before resting your cheek on his chest again. "A hot shower will melt it all away, I promise," you mumble.

He brushes over one of the many stains he left on the side of your neck. "My little trooper," he sighs, very much relaxed by your side. "You know i'd be proud even if you told me you were hurting." He knows it'll take more than a shower to get all these new semipermanent tattoos off your pretty skin, but for the sake of not making you feel small, again, he shuts up about it.

"I know," you assure. "I just don't wanna burden you. You're probably just as tired, if not more."

"What do you need?"

You lift your head again and look at him, confusion filling out your features. "You heard me, didn't you? I can take care of myself."

"I know that, and I don't doubt it for a second, but you're really gonna reject me?" He hisses, dramatically clutching his chest. "Damn, mama, just like that?"

"Well, no. Of course not-"

"Right. Of course not," he says, with that horrible tendency he has of cutting you off when the situation benefits you. "Gonna ask you one more time, and if you don't answer, i'm just gonna do what I want for you. What do you need?"

You had to think about it for a minute, about how you wanted him to help you. Independence shone through your thoughts. Everything he could help you with, you could also do alone. You didn't want to be needy.

"Five..." He's timing you, now. "Four..." The countdown has your brain scrambling to pick something. Anything, but you're blanking, losing second by second the already little time you were gifted. "Three... it shouldn't be this hard," he teases, a smirk on his face.

"I don't know, um."

"Two... you're gonna lose the option of telling me what to do, doll."

"No- I don't know."

"One." The countdown ends. "Alright," he groans, pulling you up with him as he sits up. "Let's go."

–

Sure enough, once the lukewarm water hit your skin, you gained a burst of energy. You made the washing of your body an amusing, yet tedious task for Toji. With all your little excitement fueled dances and laughter, what should have been a ten minute session turned into a twenty minute one.

"Doll, turn around. Let me get your back," Toji says, holding back a grin at the sight of you trying to soothe the burning sensation you feel in your nose after inhaling water.

You turn your back to him, before jovially turning to face him again. "Joking, joking," you say, when you catch his lidded eyes. You quickly turn your back to him, again, with giggles slipping past your lips.

He sighs, unable to hold back the gentle curl of his lips any longer. "What am I gonna do with you?" He lathers you from the nape of your neck to your lower back, with soap. The contrast of the white foam and the darkened stains on your skin, were enough to have him thinking about what ended just a little over half an hour ago. There wasn't a spot on you that didn't have some mark of his on it. Your shoulder blades and spine were mottled with stains of his lips, and your hips had opaque fingerprints on them.

You winced and took a step forward, away from Toji's touch, successfully pulling him out of his zoned out state. "You're scrubbing the scratches too hard," you say, turning to him while running your hands over the tender skin.

"Shit," he gently pulls you back and turns your back to him again, "sorry, princess." A few soothing kisses are pressed into the strikes, enough of them to make you forget that it even stung in the first place. He makes sure his mind stays out of the gutter, at least until he's done washing you, so that he doesn't hurt you again.

After showering, you stayed in bed while Toji went to the kitchen to make some tea for you. He did this for you after every night of intimacy, to expedite the betterment of your exhausted throat. He also knows of the calming properties that ease you into slumber. He wants nothing more than for you to sleep off the soreness your body retains.

"There you go, baby. I know you don't like it, but it'll make your throat feel better, so you have to drink the whole thing." He settles down next to you, on his side of the bed and watches you sip on the steaming hot drink.

The familiar scrunch of your nose appears at the taste that hits your taste buds, a sight that Toji has started looking forward to. "I hate the flavor just a little more every time I drink it. Oh well," you say, taking another sip, ignoring the scalding heat that embraces your tongue.

"I know. It sucks," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Hopefully, next time we choose correctly and get something you'll like."

You set the mug down on the nightstand and turn to him. With warm hands, you cup his cheeks and tilt his head up slightly.

"What?" He asks, his eyes directed towards you.

Your smile evolves into a short giggle as you stare at one pinpointed spot on the side of his neck. "I got you, too. Right..." you drag a finger down his neck, gently pressing on the dark spot you left on him. "...here."

His hand tracks your touch and replaces it with his own, feeling the mark. "Damn right, you did. You got me, baby," he says through a grin. "My turn?"

You sigh, with faux irritation. "Fiiine."

"Let's see..." He cups your cheeks the way you did his. "I got this whole area here." His thumb brushes over your jawline, dragging beneath it to where the marks end. "Then there's this entire patch right here." He turns your head, exposing the reddish-purple splotches on the side of your neck to the light. His eyes trace the slope that leads to your shoulder, spotting the marks that remain visible beneath the collar of your shirt. He coordinates his touch with his sight, dragging his fingers over your delicate skin. "Right here," he says, after pulling the collar of your shirt down your shoulder, revealing more of his marks.

"Okay, okay. You win," you say fixing your shirt, covering up again.

"There's one right there," he continues, tapping the column of your neck. "Some more there," his finger glides over your left collarbone.

"Toji, I swear, if you point out one more, i'm gonna bite your finger off."

He stares at you silently, the corners of his lips twitching as you watch him, intently. After a few seconds, he slowly starts directing his finger towards a mark on your chest. Once he makes contact with your skin, he gently presses on the smear of color that marks it, still holding eye contact with you. "Here, too."

You swat his hand away from you, and huff. "Why did I even try to threaten you? You want me to bite your finger off, huh?"

"Not in the slightest. I just knew you weren't actually gonna do it, so I pushed it."

You cross your arms. "Whatever. I'm just gonna put a hoodie on so you can't look at them anymore."

"Woah, baby, put down the knife," he says, hands up in playful surrender. "No need to take drastic measures over this. Don't hide all my hard work."

"Hard work," you mutter, an incredulous scoff following.

Toji's gaze falls on your lips. "You're pouting like you wanna be kissed," he teases.

"And you're... you're being annoying," you say, covering your mouth with your hand, concealing the involuntary lift of your lips.

"Yeah, but you still want me to kiss you," he says, with a sly, knowing smirk on his face. "Look at you. Look at that blush. Even your knuckles are red, doll."

"Oh my god..." you groan with embarrassment. You use both hands to cover your entire face, now.

He chuckles, pulling you into his arms. "You're so pretty, ma. A total work of art." His hands have never gotten lost on you, but for now, in any way he holds you, he'll be able to see the trails his lips left behind.

"Stop..." you mumble, smiling softly at the sweetness poured into his words.

"You look mine, with all these marks," he says, pulling down the collar of your shirt a little, to see the blots of color that appear at the start of your spine.

"Shut up," you say, blushing furiously against his chest.

"Sounds like you still want that kiss, huh?"

"Not anymore," you say, lifting your gaze to meet his. The look in your eyes betrays every ounce of your denial. Toji can very clearly tell that you're lying.

"Those rosy cheeks are saying something else," he says, grinning. "Damn, look at those pretty lips. They're ready for me."

"If you want to kiss me, just say so," you chide, lightheartedly.

"I'm gonna kiss you so hard, doll," he says, cupping your cheeks again. "Your lips lack a little more of me."

[envy-of-the-apple]

Sun Eats Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 9.1k

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

Part three: Moon Starves Sun

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping attempt, hint of pregnancy kink)

You wanted to quit the second you read the name. 

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place. 

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now. 

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client. 

"Is everything alright?" 

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke. 

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired." 

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited. 

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics. 

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention. 

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice. 

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps. 

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes. 

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face. 

Nothing. 

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next. 

"I look forward to working with all of you."                                     

𖤓

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

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order. 

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way. 

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too. 

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you. 

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?" 

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks." 

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours. 

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms. 

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching. 

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru. 

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch. 

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair. 

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines. 

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted. 

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class. 

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it. 

"What?" Because you must have misheard him. 

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official." 

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours. 

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop. 

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine. 

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore. 

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

𖤓

It was something minuscule. 

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always. 

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey. 

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her. 

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out." 

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life." 

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger. 

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru. 

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help. 

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that. 

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break. 

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing. 

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator. 

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!" 

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle. 

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you. 

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him. 

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that. 

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him. 

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back. 

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down. 

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it. 

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares. 

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything. 

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend. 

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg. 

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open. 

It's worse than anything you could think of. 

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you? 

This wasn't bullying. 

This was abuse. 

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired. 

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky. 

"Why?" 

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group. 

"Get lost." 

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone. 

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored. 

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-" 

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away. 

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?" 

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. 

"Anything, right?" 

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek. 

"Get on your knees." 

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little. 

"I-I-Gojo you-" 

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?" 

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru. 

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk. 

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him. 

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh. 

"Gojo I-" 

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems." 

You look down at the grass. Green, soft. 

"Satoru." 

His eyes flash in satisfaction. 

"Open up, pretty girl." 

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you. 

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought. 

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?" 

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame. 

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you. 

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth. 

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me." 

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world. 

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?" 

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it. 

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help. 

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath. 

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you." 

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum. 

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something." 

 You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him. 

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair. 

"My laptop...it's broken." 

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it. 

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you. 

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his. 

The sunset is pretty today. 

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied. 

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from. 

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?" 

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf. 

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait." 

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts. 

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her. 

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright. 

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting." 

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs. 

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way. 

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to. 

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go. 

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you. 

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable. 

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework. 

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips. 

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever. 

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom. 

"Thank-" 

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me." 

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself. 

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too. 

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him. 

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons. 

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?" 

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment. 

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken. 

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours. 

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now. 

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action. 

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone. 

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can. 

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch. 

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you." 

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock- 

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing. 

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you. 

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?" 

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again. 

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust. 

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper. 

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl." 

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar. 

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious. 

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him." 

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock. 

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch. 

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need. 

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt. 

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration. 

"I love you." 

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh. 

Fuck three weeks. 

You needed to get out, now. 

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there. 

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours. 

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out. 

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there. 

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room. 

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction. 

"You're off the clock, Ijichi," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?" 

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke. 

The door shuts with a click. 

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward. 

You take one back. He puts his hands up. 

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?" 

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood. 

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody. 

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too. 

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes. 

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules." 

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked. 

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent. 

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless. 

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text." 

 His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake. 

You go to move. 

Satoru's faster. 

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment. 

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze. 

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness. 

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-" 

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt. 

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client. 

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him. 

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless. 

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears. 

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar." 

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words. 

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

 Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses. 

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now." 

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again. 

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic. 

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily. 

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?" 

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too. 

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall. 

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action. 

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar. 

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate. 

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate. 

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste. 

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits. 

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed. 

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out. 

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear. 

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?" 

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that. 

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you." 

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his. 

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure. 

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom. 

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught. 

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl." 

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-" 

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-" 

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled. 

"I'll make sure it takes this time too." 

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea. 

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb. 

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine. 

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness. 

"I love you." 

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran. 

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me." 

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The Sun had eaten it. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given. 

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation. 

[depresssant]

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

so reader is very flawed ppl. i’m trying to make this as gn as possible for pls bear with me. asks and requests r open. reblogs are also much appreciated. now that i’ve gotten my e-begging out of the way, enjoy this pathetic excuse of a story

warnings : child abuse, past sexual abuse, yandere, etc

you want to die.

you always do.

staring at the wanna be thug pointing a gun at you, you sigh and roll your eyes in exasperation. perhaps pissing him off will the best way to get him to curl a finger around the trigger. or judging by his temperament, you won't have to do much.

"you? i should give my money to you?"

"who the fuck do you think you are, bitch?" the thug screams at you angrily. his grip gets tighter and clammier. he's not experienced with this. he's probably ganged up with a bunch of thugs to pull shit like this. it wouldn't take much to disarm him. "give me the fucking money before i blow your head off!"

"to a junkie like you?" you are a junkie, too, so you're not too sure about making fun of him for that. "i don't give money to hobos."

that is wrong, too. but you want to piss him off.

"that's it, you stupid bitch!" the thug's stances becomes defensive. his hateful glare is pointed at you while he musters the courage to actually press the trigger. he doesn't look like he'll do it. you've seen countless like him roaming the streets, holding you at gunpoint. he probably won't do it. then again, this is gotham. you don't expect much. either he'll shoot you dead, forcibly take your stuff, flee the scene out of fear, or be dismantled by one of the city's vigilantes. perhaps he'd shoo—

"stop right there!"

damn it.

you think too soon.

a young robin is quick to have the wanna be thug tied up and beat down. you would've questioned why a kid who seemingly looked twelve can do such a thing, but you've learned to not question most things in your life. you merely sigh in disappoint and pick up your dropped backpack before beginning the journey to hell.

"excuse me? wait! where are you headed?"

gosh, his boy-ish voice grates your nerves. makes you clench your teeth. your gaze narrows, but you know better than to react. reaction gains a reaction—one that will never be in your favor. it'll lead to a fight—one that will never be in your favor. you'll end up broken, bleeding, and bruised. now that isn't something in your favor. now you're thinking of favor too much. forcing a smile, you turn around to face the pre-teen vigilante. "yes?"

"are you alright?" he asks with practiced concern. he doesn't actually care. it's probably just protocol.

"a-okay!" the words are hollow. they lack depth. like you. "thank you for your help. i don't know what would've happened to me if you weren't there."

you do know. you wish you wouldn't.

"you're welcome," robin replies with polished words like he's not exactly convinced. "would you like for me to walk you? the city hasn't been safe for some time now."

"when is it ever safe? but that's okay. i live just around the corner, so i think i'll be fine."

"are you sure—"

"completely."

please. why won't he just leave you alone? there goes your plan spoiled by him again. every time you've been in an attempted robbing, he's been there to destroy your chances of getting shot. of escaping. he always does this. this is a repeated cycle between the two of you. he's a flying bird until you shoot him down. your name clearly wants to escape from his lips, but robin nods his head in understanding.

"this seems to happen to you all the time. my wish is for you to be safe."

"this is gotham." the grip on the straps on your backpack tighten. "everyone's gotta go through this. anyways, i gotta go, you know. thanks for savin' me."

"of course."

you don't spare him a single glance. the sky is wrapped up in black clouds heavy with the burden of rain. icy cold wind sings a melancholy tune through the stiff air. the door to your apartment looks like the gates of hell. it's all futile. no matter how many sighs you sigh, how many wishes you wish, and how many curses you curse, you'll still land up in the same fate. without escape.

that is the summary of your life.

taking a few seconds to prepare yourself for the incoming session, you open the door to be met with radio silence. silence is never good. half the time, it means something is brewing for you, and they're taking their sweet time to scare you into thinking nothing will happen. sometimes. not all the time. the other time, it just means he need to rise from his pile of misery first.

the hand of your mother's boyfriend is instantly wrapped around your neck before you can even register why the hell the apartment looks like a tornado hit it. he squeezes so tightly you feel like blood is gushing out of your ears with how loudly they ring. white spots dot along your blurry sight as you struggle to breathe. you can hear a frantic voice telling him to let you go, but you're pushed up more against the wall. this is the norm. doesn't mean it hurts any less. he'll let you go, give you some time to regain your breath, and then rain down bullets upon you.

that's exactly what happens.

your hand goes straight to your neck as your raspy and shaky coughs wreck your chest. he squeezes hard enough for it to hurt but it not show. and then the kicks and punches come. with how much your chest and ribs are struck, you're a bit surprised at how you haven't broken a bone yet. your potential step-father screams at you, but you can barely hear it over the repetition of words in your head. he grabs your bloody face and shout something incoherent before letting you go to kick you.

leaving you in your own pile of misery.

it's normal. yes, it's completely normal. you're used to this. it'll get better. it always does. but you've got the crushing idea it never will.

gotham heights high school—the school you're forced to attend.

the class division is insane to look at, because it's there even from a short and near prospective. how the richest kids got put in a school with the poorest—you'll never know. the only thing you do know is that every one of these kids are pieces of shit. even the ones that pretend to be nice.

tim drake—or shall you say tim wayne—is no different.

even as he helps up the girl who just got roughly pushed to the floor, causing all her textbooks to scatter, you can only eye him with disdain. if he really cares, then he would've beat the shit out of those athletes. but he doesn't. they're all the same—privileged and all. sympathy shouldn't be given to them. not to drake or the wealthy yet somehow bullied girl.

"but y'know what i heard?" your friend drags your attention back to him. zarian leans against a locker lazily, but excitement practically buzzes off of him. "the bruce wayne is coming to our track meet today!"

your other friend, jaylene, rolls her eyes as she applies her eyeliner using the mirror hanging up on the inside door of her locker. she speaks exactly what you're thinking. "only because his beloved son is gonna be there."

"well, still. think about the connections we can make! all the famous people that'll be there."

"keep dreaming. asshat. i put all my money on the attention being on rich the kid. i don't even know why he joined track. varsity, at that, too. there has to be some sort of bribery going on."

an incoming argument is clearly brewing up, so you take in a deep breath to say something, but a new voice beats you to it.

"excuse me?"

you and your two friends turn to face the guy standing in front of you. charismatic, intelligent,  and optimistic—he's an enigma that shines on everyone. tim drake. his black, messy yet somehow in place hair does no justice for his good looks. he's the complete package. rich, good looking, tall, and empathetic. the mere sight of him annoys you.

zarian is the first to speak up. he quirks a brow and offers tim a grin. "what's up, man?"

"you're leaning against my locker." tim rubs the back of his neck. he smiles awkwardly in the presence of the three of you, and it takes your friend a beat to understand what he's saying before moving away.

"oh yeah. my fault," he says as he moved to stand next to you.

the school's very own bruce wayne only shakes his head and tells him it's okay while opening his locker and grabbing a few things. people flock around, waiting for him to be done with whatever the hell he's doing, so they can be back to his side like leeches sucking on blood. he surely can't be this dumb, no? these people don't want to be his friend...

well, it's not as if it's your problem. you wish it is. you and your friends turn to make way to first period, but drake clearly has other plans. he sandwiches himself between you and zarian with a grin of his own plastered on an unblemished face. one carefree of any worry or pain. "so," tim begins. "first track meet of the year, huh? aren't you guys nervous?"

jaylene merely hums in amusement and shrugs. "it gets better. when you've spent four years in track—in front of all those judging people—it wears off. hopefully, you'll get used to it soon."

that is jab, though, rich the kid doesn't seem to catch on. he laughs casually, but even you can sense the anxiety like it was radioactive. ""i hope so. i've sprinted so much i feel like i'll get shin splits again."

you zone out while he has a conversation with your friends. as if drake has ever had experience with track. it took you all of freshman year to just prove that you can actually be a part of the track team, and here tim drake is, parading around about getting on varsity without a single grain of hard work. he's a naturally talented person. good at everything. that's what makes you hate him so much. people like him get everything handed to them just because they're good at it first hand and leave behind people that actually work for it. you want to tell him to buzz off—that he can't talk about how much he's practiced and how nervous he is, but you keep your mouth shut. that is, until he directly addresses you.

tim's eyes narrow at you with comedic suspicion. "you know, you look like someone i know. a lot. the resemblance is crazy."

"eight billion people out there. you never know." your tone is flat, stoic, lacking any bit of emotion.

"gosh, you even sound like him! that's really terrifying."

"well, whoever, it is, i hope i never meet him," you murmur.

your two friends leave for their classes soon, and you and drake find your seats at the back of high school economics. exhaustingly so, you sit together in one of the many desk pairs, and drake uses this opportunity to annoy you any chance he gets. you give off the vibe that you don't want to talk to him. he doesn't get the hint. you don't tell him, though. maybe that's the problems. his shit-eating grin ticks you off when you look in his direction. "what?"

"let's be friends!"

"no."

"what? come on! don't be so cold!" he whines like a petulant child being told no.

"no."

"too bad! you're my friend now."

"tim," you sigh. it's wrong to scream. it's bad to scream. screaming leads to fights. fights lead to you laying in a pool of your own blood. laying in blood leads to missing practice. missing practice leads to less skill. less skill leads to less of a chance of getting the hell out of here. just smile. forgive and forget. know your persona. know who you are. kind. happy. funny. "fine." so you smile with gritted teeth. you smile like you played a cruel joke on him. "we can be friends... i guess."

his face brightens at your fake words like he is just given the the world.

tim drake wiggles his eyebrows playfully and nudges you with his elbow. "you know, i've been trying to get you to say that since school started?"

"really now?"

"really. i'm glad we're going to be friends. oh! should we go out to eat with zarian and jaylene after the meet?"

... there's a chance your mom's boyfriend will get pissed off. he'll probably beat the shit out of you since the track meet would have happened, and you wouldn't need to have an unblemished body for meets. he'd scream, yell, and punch... like his life depended on it... fuck it.

"yeah," you reply shortly after with a firm nod of your head. "we can go to this diner near the theater. i'm sure you'll love the food."

this doesn't mean you hate him any less. he's still rich scum⏤how you're poor scum. he's stuck up, pretentious, and sickeningly sweet. exactly what you hate. you just hope you can have a good time after the track meet. the mischievous glint in his eyes told you otherwise.

"and this is my dad, bruce wayne."

what the hell are you doing?

the sun is setting along the horizon, the air is getting cooler again, and you want to sink into the floor. the plan was to head straight to the diner after this, but rich the kid somehow roped you into meeting his dad?

nausea pools in your stomach from both hunger and the feeling of thousands of eyes staring at you. cameras are flashing at gotham's billionaire as he smiles and firmly shakes your hand. confidence drips off of him disgustingly. his high-tailored suit radiates wealth and money. his stoic demeanor gives off an aura of mystery. you want to lay on a railroad track with an incoming train speeding along the way.

"it's nice to meet you. tim has ranted about his track teammates quite a lot."

there's an eleven year old standing next to him. his eyes are on you like that of an owl's but you neither glance at him or bother to acknowledge him. you just want to eat some food before meeting your doom at that apartment for not placing first like your mom's boyfriend wanted you to. like a goat getting stuffed before slaughter. it always leads down to that. no matter how many times you try to wish it was different. no matter how many times you imagine it to be different. no matter how many times you try to make it different.

"nice to meet you too." you shake his hand as well with a polite smile on your face. polite. calm. gentle. proper. "and yeah, he seems very eager to be on the team."

"of course, of course. well, it is getting late. why don't you come over for dinner some time?"

"maybe tonight?" tim suddenly adds in. at your hesitant expression, he groans in exasperation. "who do you think we are? blood-sucking bats? come on, we can go to the diner some other time!"

you have just met him... you've just accepted being his friend... you aren't the most social person. you've never had much friends, but even you can understand that dinner with the family doesn't happen until the friend and person have come close in a long period of time. jaylene and zarian have other matters to tend to, so it's going to be just you and tim at a diner. not⏤

ding!

your phone's notification's alarm chimes, and when you check who has sent you a message, you feel like getting on the ground to pray to whatever deity for letting you have a moment of peace.

mom: ⏤he's heavily drunk. don't come home.

a part of you is hit with a strong current full of guilt. this is your mother. you're supposed to be there for her through thick and thin. you're supposed to protect her and be her wall of defense against monsters like him. family look out for each other. you have to take care of her... but she doesn't take care of you. this makes you a terrible person. you know that. she'll probably get beaten to an inch of her life and hide her heavy bruises under makeup that was terribly done in a rush. and then, she'll throw whatever object is in sight at you in a fury of anger.

telling you she made too many sacrifices for you. telling you that you're ruined her life. telling you that she should've aborted you like your father had told her to. telling you exactly what you believe yourself. a curse that should've never been born... she'll be beaten within an inch of her life. but you have already lost yours.

after pretending to text her and sliding your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, you nod with a sigh of joking resignation. "sure. i asked my mom, and she said it's okay."

"wonderful." mr. wayne nods and gestures to the limo you can see in the parking lot. a bit of overkill, perhaps.

honestly, you're still surprised that gotham's billionaire is inviting you to dinner. this man is the topic of magazines, and you're about to take a ride in his limo. how the hell have you ended up in a situation like this? fate is still fucking with you, isn't it?

you find yourself seated next to tim while mr. wayne and his youngest son, damian, sit on the seats to your right. they're talking about something, but once again, you find yourself half listening and zoning out, staring at nothing until mr. wayne's questions pulls you back to reality.

"so how has school been faring for you?" mr. wayne asks in a cool and collected tone.

you laugh lightly and smile as politely as ever. "pretty good. i hope to leave gotham after graduation to study somewhere else."

"who would want to stay in gotham?" tim rolled his eyes, rolling the first place medal between his fingers. "by the way, remember when i said you looked like someone i know? i was talking about my dad?"

your brows rise in both exasperation and annoyance at his claims. now he's just plain, out right trying to make fun of you in front of a billionaire. your shoulders tense, ready to refute his claims, but mr. wayne surprisingly chuckles and rubs his chin while taking a good look at your face. "well, i can see it, but there's eight billion people out there in the world. i'm bound to look like someone. though, i didn't expect for it to be someone as talented as [name] here."

you force a quiet laugh along at the sound of his tone. foreboding. you know tones like this. like he's hiding something that they all know except for you. it means you've made a mistake in even giving in to tim drake's constant begging. why the hell was he so eager to have you become his friend? why is he so eager to maintain a friendship with you? why the hell has mr. wayne invited you to dinner when he's rumored to be mysterious, secretive, and a literal brick wall that nobody can get past?

"you've achieved so much for a child your age." mr. wayne sets his gaze dead on you. "your father must be so proud."

and his eyes glimmer with that same shine you saw in tim's.

ewwww

this was not proofread so forgive me and uh, i will be turning this into a series

um also making a tag list if anyone wants to be a part of it

[hildergard]

Could you do something where Aemond is already married/betrothed to a highborn lady that’s been approved by Alicent and Otto but he has a relationship with a low born woman (a brothel worker or any lowborn really) and once he becomes Prince Regent he starts bringing her around the castle, giving her a room to herself, treating her better than how a lowborn should be treated in Alicent and Ottos eyes and they don’t like it but Aemond doesn’t care.

MINE TO PROTECT ★ AEMOND TARGARYEN

PAIRING | Aemond Targaryen x Lowborn!Reader

TAGS | Suggestive content, swearing, possessive behaviour, classism

WORDCOUNT | 4k

NOTE | I have seen a lot of fanfictions where the Reader is a brothel worker so I made her a baker instead. I hope that's alright with you! Thank you so much for this great request! I had so much fun writing it <333

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

In the seedy streets of Flea Bottom, rumours travelled in a precise order, memorised by all.

A Lord, drunk with lust, would disclose the Crown’s secrets to a simpering whore, who would be quick⏤once the gold dragons were in her purse⏤to repeat what she had just heard, noble semen still running down her thighs. The other, much less wealthy, customers would then talk about it loudly in bars, attracting the attention of patrons who, once sober, had only to spread the news.

Today, the rumour burst into your little shop when Old Gerald came through the door, looking for his daily loaf of bread. 

 “Prince Aemond’s been made Regent," he said. 

For a second, you did not move. The dough fell on wood. Your floured hands remained stuck in the sticky, flabby mixture. It would have to be kneaded again. The sight of your dirty fingers woke you from your torpor. You gripped the towel from your apron and wiped your palms roughly before turning your back on your customer⏤less to get the fresh loaves of bread out of the oven than to regain your composure.

He had done it. 

Your shovel rasped against the burning slab of clay and peeled off the loaves. 

A few days earlier, when night had enveloped the citizens of King's Landing in its thick cloak, he had told you of his plans and dreams⏤the two were always intertwined, for Aemond Targaryen provoked fate rather than waited for it. His touch had done nothing to soften the brutality of his words. Sordid tales of fire and blood, the kind that filled the tomes of the Citadel. 

Even the Targaryens could not play with fire indefinitely. Aemond rose in the flames. For how much longer? You had protested, your voice hoarse from the moans he had managed to draw from your throat, but he would have none of it and simply told you to trust him, as if all this were far too complicated for you. 

And perhaps that was the case, for what did you know of war and power?

“What about his Majesty?" you asked.

Old Gerald tossed you three coppers, which you pocketed, before handing you a thick piece of cloth. 

“They say he perished in dragonfire. Seems Targaryens are closer to men, after all. With all this quarrel for t'throne, it were inevitable. And, let me tell you, it'll happen again. Today, a brother sits on t'throne. Tomorrow, it'll be an uncle or a sister. Things like that never end.”

You carefully wrapped the golden loaf in the cloth. 

“Wi' Rhaenyra in Dragonstone and his brother's heir dead, he’ll no doubt be crowned King. And the Lady Baratheon, Queen.”

You winced at the name but immediately hid your reaction with a tight smile. Gerald, bless him, took no notice of your torment. You handed the loaf of bread to the old cobbler, who nodded at you and returned to his shoes. 

The rumour ran on and kept you thinking all day. You burnt a dozen loaves of bread, spilt two sacks of flour and forgot to deliver her apple pies to Dorthy Porter, making you lose a silver stag and a customer.

When the key finally turned in the lock of the shop and cut you off from the rest of the world, your shoulders slumped. The sun and all its problems gave way to the moon. Under its silvery eyes, other rumours would no doubt spread but you did not wish to hear them. You longed for your straw mattress and the comfort of your dreams⏤perhaps your love would visit you there, also freed from the pressure the Gods were piling on his shoulders. 

Tiredness weakened your knees⏤you dragged your body more than you climbed the stairs to your modest bedroom. In the middle of the room, the bed and its pillow stretched out its arms to you. You let yourself fall into the feathery embrace and closed your eyes for a moment, praying to the Gods that you would find sleep easily. 

They ignored you. 

The doorbell rang. 

Your eyelids struggled to open. Sleep paralysed them⏤it clutched at your eyelashes and tried to keep them closed but you fought the temptation and, at last, gazed into the dim light of the room. Another series of blows, more hurried, struck against the wood. The whole  shop seemed to shake. 

“I’m coming, I'm coming…” you mumbled. 

You gasped as two members of the Kingsguard appeared on your doorstep, their cloaks far too white to be dragged through the muddy streets of Flea Bottom. 

“The Prince Regent, His Highness Aemond Targaryen, summons you.”

They did not care for your reply and seized you. You protested, demanded to be told the reason for this summon, but nothing would do. The guards dragged you like a rag doll through the streets of King's Landing, indifferent to your screams and struggle. Above and around you, the candlelight in the windows intensified. Some people poked their heads out to watch the racket. You lowered your chin and remained silent, but the damage had been done. 

Already, rumours were spreading. The baker had been arrested. What had she done? Who would make their bread from now on?  

The dizzy shadow of the Red Keep loomed larger and larger. Just the outline of it made your skin crawl. For the first time, you would be treading on the floor of Kings and Queens. You were being plunged headfirst into this unknown, powerful and dangerous place, populated by men and women who despised people like you. One of the guards tightened his grip around your arm. You yelped. Why were they taking you there? Aemond always came to you, not the other way round. 

Did someone know? You blanched. Impossible, you thought immediately. You had been cautious. 

But what if... What if someone had seen you, despite all your precautions? 

 Were they taking you to the Keep to put you to the sword?  

 A flash of fear stabbed you in the guts.  

You finally passed through the large gates of the castle. They were still open, yet, no one was in the courtyard. The swords were resting on the workbenches and the horses were asleep. Only a few guards patrolled the ramparts, their heads turned skywards in search of a dragon. 

“Hurry up, girl. The Prince is waiting.”

A solitary, proud figure emerged at the top of the stairs, in front of the entrance. His long white hair fluttered in the wind and the bluish moonlight accentuated his strict features and pale complexion. The mere sight of his face reassured you. You defied the guards and walked towards him. 

His rough hand⏤hardened by duty and war⏤gripped yours before thin lips kissed it. The Prince pulled you towards him. Your heart slowed as his familiar scent enveloped you and your shoulders relaxed. For a second, you surrendered to the comfort of his warmth and love. The smell of musk and leather soothed your body, but your head kept its wits about it.

“What's happening, Aemond?”

He closed his eye as his name fell from your lips and smiled. His hand came down and grasped your waist in a possessive embrace. You leaned into the touch. 

“There are rumours that Aegon–”

You squeaked. His fingers had dug painfully into your flesh at his brother's name. 

The mere mention of him brought back painful and humiliating memories, which your lover had confided to you, his head on your pillow. Even today, the wounds had not healed. They continued to transpire in every aspect of his life. You are the only thing he has not stolen from me, he had told you one night. Saying that name was like throwing his past back in his face and breaking your promise. He'll never succeed, you had replied, but today, Aegon was on your mind. What did his wound mean for the Crown, for you?

“Is it true?" you managed to articulate. 

“The Council has made me Regent," he nodded. “We will not need to hide any longer, my love.”

“What do you mean?”

But Aemond did not answer you. He smiled, tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and let his fingers brush your neck. With a nod, the kingsguards left. The clink of their armour echoed for long seconds, but the din faded with the tenderness of his gestures. His finger traced the veins in your chest. They led him to your breasts, hidden by your dress. Aemond grunted⏤terribly offended by this affront⏤and pulled at the fabric but it held on. 

Claere Linstar's work was reknown throughout Flea Bottom. You could not find a better weaver⏤today, you were thankful for the two silver stags you had spent. The garment would become the guarantor of your dignity, the bulwark against your desire. 

When you realised that your Prince was not going to answer your question, you took a step back. His hand fell limply between the two of you as a brief look of pain clouded his face. 

“Aemond?”

He straightened up and held out his hand to you. 

“Follow me.”

The labyrinthine corridors made your head spin. You lost count of the turns you took, the staircases you climbed and the alcoves you passed. The beauty of the mouldings and frescoes drew admiring sighs from you several times, but Aemond did not care. He walked past them without giving them a second glance. He's used to all this, you reminded yourself. People of his rank bathed in this luxury and grandeur since birth.  

On the way, maids dressed in red and white stopped at your sight. Their gaze fell on your face, on your body, on your hand locked in the Prince's... Your cheeks heated and you tried to pull away, but Aemond tightened his grip. Out of habit, his thumb caressed your skin. This time, his touch only made you tense. You bowed your head, ashamed. 

They knew. 

The thought stayed with you. 

You only lifted your head when Aemond stopped in front of an ornate door. The mouldings curved into flowers and birds⏤an ode to spring and renewal. Your eyes swept the decor, stopped on a bush of camellias and, finally, met the Prince's satisfied gaze. 

“We've arrived," he announced. 

Aemond opened the door with a confident gesture. Inside, an immense room stretched out and seemed to never end. Wealth oozed out of every corner, from the four-poster bed to the dressing table adorned with sapphires. On the wall, frescoes of flowers had been painted to match the powder pink drapes⏤an explosion of colour that turned drab the corridors you had been raving about just a few minutes before. 

“Is it to your taste?”

You turned back to Aemond. Although his chin was up and his back was straight⏤proud as ever⏤red bloomed on his cheeks. Your lover seemed embarrassed, a far cry from his usual composure. Almost timidly, his hand sought yours. He couldn't help it, you realised. His fingers always found yours⏤skin against skin to find what he had been deprived of all his childhood. 

“I don't know anyone who wouldn't like it," you replied.

“Hmm. Good.”

He pulled you to him. His hands went down to your buttocks and pressed you against his chest. Your pelvises collided. Suddenly, the room made sense. You let yourself drown in these familiar gestures. Your hand caressed his muscular shoulders, moved up to his jaw and brushed against his lips. Aemond kissed the pad of your thumb before replacing it with your lips. Soon, the wet sound of saliva echoed through the room. The sweet melody ignited a fire in your lower abdomen and moved down between your thighs. 

Your hand resumed tracing arabesques on your lover's smooth skin. It stopped at the buttons on his doublet and hastily undid them before wandering lower and lower…

Aemond stopped you before you could take him in your hand. His hand grabbed yours. He kissed your palm and pressed it against his cheek. 

“These will be your quarters.”

The fire went out, leaving you frozen with shock. Your heart skipped a beat. 

“What do you mean?" you asked breathlessly.

“Now that I am Regent, we will not have to hide any more.” 

A new glare lit up his eye. Purple turned black and made you shiver. Flames seemed to dance in his pupil, crushing all remains of the second son he had once been. That Aemond was dead. In his place was a Regent who thought himself above laws and men.  

“It's not proper, Aemond," you tried to protest. “If it gets out that I'm here... If the Dowager Queen or the Hand–”

“They have no say in the matter. My word is law now.”

 “If you want me here… Perhaps I could serve the Crown, join the kitchens. Anything but that, Aemond," you said, gesturing to those quarters, far too luxurious for someone of your breeding. 

“You do not belong in the fucking kitchens," he scoffed. “No. You will be by my side, as my equal.”

“You're engaged," you retorted. “The Lady Baratheon won't take kindly to my presence here. You nobles can make Small Folk disappear in a blink of an eye and no one would notice or care.”

Alira Merchin's story was remembered as a cautionary tale for young girls naive enough to think love could conquer blood. The fable was classic⏤hundreds of similar romances filled libraries, and perhaps it was these very ones that had encouraged the girl to seduce the heir of House Harte. The man fell in love and made the pretty merchant his lover. 

This did not please his wife, the daughter of Lord Chelsted. 

She got rid of the merchant with disconcerting ease. The poor girl was found trampled by horses in white and green bards. That day, Lord Harte lost his true love and spent the rest of his life suffering the consequences of his betrayal. 

Your heart dropped. What would happen to you if you tickled the stag? Ours if the Fury. Their motto was an ode to their rage, to their thirst for violence. If Floris Baratheon found out that Prince Aemond was bedding you... and in the Keep nonetheless…

The storm would come for you and you would perish in its eye. 

“It's not a good idea, Aemond," you finally said. 

“Do not fret, my love. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here to protect you.”

The Prince pulled you into bed. 

Your protests died on your lips, muffled by moans and the exquisite feel of his skin against yours. 

Your fingers tightened around your thighs. The soap made your skin slippery but did nothing to wash away the shame that had been clinging to it for days. It colonised your flesh and left it tainted, eating away at your muscles and weighing down your heart. 

On the first day, after a passionate night, maids had arrived to prepare you, but you refused their care. You were no Lady. You had bathed alone all your life and would continue to do so. More than anything, you wanted to escape their watchful eyes, which would no doubt have noticed the hickeys on your chest and thighs. 

You did not know how rumours got around in the Keep, but you were sure that they first burgeoned on the maids’ lips. They blossomed as quickly as in Flea Bottom⏤the inquisitive nature of man was innate⏤, but it would not be Old Gerald getting wind of it. No. The stakes were much higher in these parts, and the consequences even more dire. 

The door to your quarters stood in the way of the horror surely awaiting you, but for how much longer? 

Your hands massaged your calf, hoping to rediscover a cherished routine. You longed for the feel of dough beneath your fingers. What would become of your shop? Would you have to sell it? Maybe someone had already moved in⏤abandoned houses never stayed so for long in Flea Bottom, the cradle of the poor and the homeless. 

You could not cherish the roof above your head, yet, you supposed you had to learn to appreciate it. Aemond did not seem eager to let you go.  

Aemond. 

Every day, the sun tore him away from you. His hours were devoted to the Small Council and military strategies, only half of which you understood when he explained them to you. Your Prince needed to talk, to get rid of the weight that was arching his back. You became the shoulder on which he rested, the ear into which he poured his doubts, the flesh in which he forgot himself. 

“I wish to be with you every hour of the day, to attach myself to your side, but the Gods will only grant me this pleasure when I win this war. I am fighting for you⏤for us,” he had told you. 

The moon brought him back into your arms. Every night, without exception, he would cross the threshold of the door and wrap you in a reassuring embrace. His arms would block out your gloomy thoughts and chase away shame and regret⏤all seemed worth it if it kept him close to you. The stars looked down on your love. When the bells rang the hour of the owl, you indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, whispered sweet nothings or simply enjoyed the peaceful silence that the other's presence guaranteed. Sometimes, Aemond, lying on the bed with your head on his stomach, would read you stories with his hand buried in your hair. 

And then, the hour of the Nightingale would sound, its tranquillity burning away in the first rays of sunlight. The enchanted interlude would close and you would spend the day dreaming of a life where sun and duty did not separate you. 

Shame would reappear, its weight with it, and fear⏤tangible and vibrant⏤would turn your stomach. 

The spectre of Floris Baratheon never left you. It haunted you. In the frescoes of camellias on the wall. In the bouquets of flowers dotting your quarters. In the venison served for dinner. The tales of her beauty reached you and left you bitter, but what they said about her quiet authority made your blood run cold. 

She would come for you. 

The Lady Baratheon occupied all your thoughts, so much so that you forgot about another much more dangerous threat. 

One day, Alicent Hightower stalked into your room. 

You dropped your embroidery in your lap and hastily sat up. The needle fell to the floor with a disturbing chime. The bell was tolling⏤this farce had gone on far too long and it would now end. 

The Dowager Queen dropped a small leather bag on the table. Its contents clinked and masked your gasping breath for a second. Your heart was pounding against your temples. Soon, the air would run out. Already your throat was closing up and you were struggling to swallow. 

“What is it?" you asked weakly. 

“Five thousand gold dragons. Enough to buy you a new life, far from the Keep, far from Westeros.”

Away from my son, she meant. 

“I won't leave Aemond.”

He needs me, you thought. 

“The Prince Regent does not need you," the Queen scoffed as if she could heard your mind. “He is engaged. Or have you forgotten that? Whoring yourself in the way you do… It would appear so. Have you thought about the repercussions of your actions when people find out about you? The risks it means for Aemond? Your very presence here jeopardises this entire war.”

“I have tried to–”

“He does not love you, you fool. He just wants a cunt to fuck without having to spend a single penny.”

You recoiled, surprised to hear the famously pious queen speak so vulgarly. 

War transformed souls. It made them ugly. Alicent Hightower’s wide eyes and pursed lips twisted her face into a terrifying expression. 

She sighed and, for a moment, her features became those of a compassionate woman. 

“I don't know what… hold my son has over you," she continued in a calmer voice, “but you seem smart enough to understand this will end badly. You must leave. Take the gold and let us be done with this farce.”

The door slammed against the wall before you could even consider the proposal. 

Aemond reached your side with a confident stride. 

“What's going on here? Mother?”

When the latter did not answer, he looked to you for answers. You lowered your head, unable to bear the look of concern in his purple eye any longer. 

It fell lower, onto the table and the leather purse.  

“What is the meaning of this?” he raised his voice. 

Silence stretched before Alicent Hightower relented. 

“You cannot… support a lowborn in such manners, Aemond. The girl must go.”

The Prince ignored his mother and took you in his arms. His nose nestled under your ear as his hands buried themselves in your hair. He guided your head into his neck and whispered comforting words, which you could not hear. You did not care. His familiar scent embraced you and brought tears to the corners of your eyes. They wet your cheeks and his collar. 

You should never have come here. 

“Out.”

His mother protested. 

“Imagine the shame for your future wife, the Lady Baratheon! For her house! If we lose Storm's End because of... because of this w–” 

“Hold your tongue and leave.”

“Aemond, if you do this, we are lost!”

“Get out!”

Footsteps retreated. A door slammed. Aemond sighed. His hand drew abstract symbols on the back of your head for a moment before encouraging you to look at him. 

“Oh, my love," he said, seeing your misty eyes. “All is well now. She will not hurt you any more.”

The danger you had put yourself in was greater than you had thought. Fear dried your mouth and exhausted your words. You stammered a few excuses before taking a deep breath. Your Prince's fingers did not weaken. They continued to comfort you and, at last, gave you the courage you needed to finally speak. 

“Maybe I should return to Flea Bottom. I–” 

“No," Aemond’s voice cracked. 

His hands framed your face and pulled you closer until your noses were touching. 

“You are not leaving me.”

His lips were harsh, covering every inch of your skin. He kissed the bridge of your nose, your warm cheekbones, your wet eyelids. Tears ran aground in the cracks of his lips and dried up under his exquisite tenderness. No beauty spot, no eyelash, was spared. His lips erased his mother's words and the doubts in your heart. 

“You belong here, with me. I do not care for blood or war. I only wish for your love.”

Aemond filled the space between your mouths. His hands reached down and grasped your breast. He feasted on your lips and the taste of them like a hungry man. Tingles caressed your spine and tickled your lower abdomen. You rolled your hips, searching for his, but your lover pulled away.

You didn't want him to stop. 

The Prince shushed your complaints and pushed you to the bed. Your back bounced on the goose feather mattress. Eager to feel his skin against yours, you sat up and tried to pull him to you, but Aemond took a step back. A petty smile stretched his lips as he heard you whimper. He ignored you and stood silent, admiring you. His eyes, now black, gazed down at your body, contemplating its shape and softness.

“Aemond, please…”

Your lover grabbed an ankle and kissed it. You moaned. He moved up your calf, caressing your knee and digging his fingers into your thighs before spreading them apart. His teeth nipped at the flesh, which his tongue immediately soothed. Your breathing quickened and breathy moans fell from your swollen lips, intoxicated by his touch. He skipped over your dripping cunt, his hands grazing your hips and sides.  

Suddenly, Aemond stopped touching you, placed a farewell kiss on your belly and sat up on his elbows. 

“I will take care of everything, my love. You will never have to fear for your life. It is mine to cherish, mine to love, mine to protect," he said before reaching up to capture your lips with his. “Mine.”

“I love you," you sighed. 

Aemond smiled, as he did every time the words fell from your lips. One could not get used to the sweetness of love. It forever stirred the heart and soothed the soul. Your Prince placed a chaste kiss on your lips before moving down and disappearing between your thighs. 

His words vanished in desire and pleasure. You forgot them the next day, when the hour of the Nightingale struck.  

You should have known that Aemond Targaryen would keep his promise.

Three days later, the Lady Baratheon was found dead in the Kingswood, impaled on a stag's antlers. 

[tacticaldiary]

It All Comes Crashing Down

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

She presses the metal radio against her lips and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.

"I love you, Simon.

A/N: The classic 'bomb my location' fic you've all been waiting for! This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks, so I'm glad I finally got it out- I'm thinking about a part 2 where she wakes up and it's some extra fluff, maybe?

Masterlist

She takes a shaky breath in as her hands grip her rifle tighter, but when she speaks her voice is as steady and firm as ever.

"Bomb my location."

The words are acrid on her tongue, but they feel right to her heart. Her mind is in disarray, trying to piece together any other solution that won't have her ending up under dead under pounds of rubble, but she knows deep down that there's no other way out of this.

An entire enemy organisation eliminated at the expense of one soldier.

It was a win-win for everyone but her.

And that was alright. She's made her peace with it, made it the moment she signed her name on those documents giving her life away to the tang of blood and the scent of gunsmoke.

"Level the building." She continues, wincing at another hail of fire that rains upon her. Heavy footsteps and orders barked in Russian move around her location. Steadily being surrounded, there was little hope for a smooth extraction or escape anyway. "Have Soap blow the charges, Captain. Then send in the airship and raze this hellhole to the ground."

"Like hell we're doing that." Gaz's voice comes through her comms, frustrated. "We're not leaving her, Price." They must have rendezvoused successfully, because Gaz doesn't speak through the comms, rather it sounds as if he's turning away his head to speak to the man directly.

It brings a small smile to her face despite the circumstances. Her boys would get out of this, at least.

Simon. Her mind flashes to her Simon and she thanks whoever's above that they had split up before everything went to shit.

It had been fine at first. She was setting the charges they needed to bring the building down while he fetched the intel from somewhere else, and really, she should have been suspicious when it all went smoothly.

She'd planted the last charge before the enemy started closing in.

Like rats, they seemed to emerge out of nowhere shooting her down and pinning her until she had no choice but to slip away and barricade herself in one of the nearby rooms. The entrance and exits were likely swarmed with people and here she sat, in the heart of it all.

Unreachable, untouchable.

She sort of tunes out the muted conversation on the other end, lets the ringing on her head take over. Loud angry cursing, yelling in distinctive Scottish, the harsh rasp of her Captain telling everyone to calm down...it all floats through her mind.

Everyone but Ghost.

She doesn't hear his voice...but he was alive, wasn't he? She'd seen him slip out of the building through the window in front of her, so she knows he must have gotten out. The thought makes her gut curl up, brings her back to the present.

"Negative, Sergeant." Price's voice cuts through her thoughts, much louder than the others. "We're mapping out a route to come get you-"

"Price, it'll be suicide." Perhaps it's the way her voice softens and quiets, the gentle way she talks so different from the harsh way she's spoken earlier. It's as if she's accepted it, is content to lay down and allow herself to be swallowed by the dirt she came from. "I'm one soldier. Don't make yourself visit more than one coffin."

"I'm going to-"

"Set off the charges."

There's a beat of silence, painstaking silence where nobody speaks. Even the gunfire outside the room she's barricaded in seems to fade out for a moment.

"Copy."

A death sentence coming from the man she considered family.

It cracks a smile out of her. She squeezes her eyes shut, lets her head fall against the blood spattered wall behind her.

"Make sure my replacement's just as much a pain in the ass to you, alright?" If the way her voice breaks at the end of her last sentence is noticed, it's not brought up. "Simon's gotta have someone to push around, yeah?"

"There's no replacing you."

There's arguing. Soap and Gaz are yelling, and it's startling because she's never heard either of them shout the way they are, at their Captain nonetheless.

It's comforting to know she was cared for, even if she's about to die.

A sudden bang on her door makes her jump. Muffled Russian filters through the old wood. Someone ramming at it with something, trying to break it down.

But it doesn't really matter, does it? She'll be going out on her own terms even if they find her now.

Ghost...Simon. Where was he? If there was one thing that'd settle her mind right now it'd be hearing that gravelly voice, even if it was merely yelling at her, telling her how stupid it was to suggest what she has.

A desperation claws at her chest, deep down. She wants Simon, wants to spend the night in his bed again, wants to hug him, feel his skin, wants to see those rare smiles of his one more time.

Just once.

Just one more time before she-

"Charges setting off in 5-"

How cruel was the world?

She hopes Simon knows that she didn't mean to leave him. That she wanted him to go on without her, to not fall into the void of 'what-if's.' It wasn't his fault.

Her eyes burn but she refuses to let out the helpless sob clawing its way up her throat. She wants...she wants so much. Wants to do so much more, wants to live, and breathe and smile and laugh and experience and live. Simon. She wants to tell him so much more.

If she could go back in time and fill their silences with all the words she wants him to know right now, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

It's an impulsive decision, how her hand shoots up to grab at her radio frantically. Switching it to the private line between just the two of them, she presses the metal against her lips and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.

"I love you, Simon."

The ground crumbles beneath her, the world turns to black.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Slipping out of the small shed, he tucks the papers into his vest. For a multi-national organisation, they sure were stupid as hell when hiding their intel.

Scanning the grounds for any movement, Ghost moves out, keeping to the shadows until he reaches the edge of the field that morphed into the woods farther down.

"Intel secured, moving to rendezvous point now." He says into his comms. He frowns when he doesn't get an answer back, grabbing his radio and speaking again, casting a glance back into the foliage in the distance where he knows the others have staked their place to operate from.

Price, Gaz, and Soap were operating remotely, dealing with drones and distant detonation devices, whereas the other two had infiltrated the building separately.

Plant the charges and secure the intel. Simple tasks made difficult when they both realised that the intel wasn't in the building, but instead in the shed attached to the side of the complex instead. Splitting up had been the most logical thing to do, even when Ghost had refused at first.

"It'll be fine. Quick and easy, right?" She'd told him with a grin. "Get that intel before I'm out of the building and maybe I'll give you an extra treat when we get back." Ghost had rolled his eyes at her suggestive wink.

"Does anyone copy?" He says into the object. He's met with nothing but muffled crackling and garbled speech, tinny and indecipherable. Ghost scowls at the machine, ripping it off of his vest and turning it over. It crackles and pops with bursts of sound but nothing cohesive enough to interpret

"I-...ou...Simon"

"Fucking thing's busted." He mumbles to himself, shoving the item back into his vest, his hand brushing against the folder of intel he's successfully recovered from the shed attached to the main building.

He can spot one of the convoy vehicles near the edge of the woods, but he doesn't let his guard down even as he crosses the field towards it.

Ghost barely takes a step through the dead grass before the building behind him goes up in an explosion that makes even him unsteady with the force of it. Flames lick up the east side of the massive structure and Ghost takes a second to watch as it crumbles in on itself sending up clouds of dust and debris.

Good fucking riddance.

He's looking forward to getting the hell out of this place once he rendezvous with everyone else. This mission had stretched on for far longer than it should have, the elusive bastards slipping away through their fingers time and time again with dirty, underhanded tactics.

The foliage grows thicker as he steps into the woods, rifle at the ready. A click of a safety had him raising his weapon and spinning around immediately.

When he sees a very familiar mohawk, however, he lowers his weapon instantly. "Blue!" He says loudly, bringing up a hand to half Soap. "Just me, Johnny."

Soap follows suit and lowers his weapon, his shoulders visibly relaxing the tiniest bit. "Welcome back." He says, but something about his voice makes Ghost uneasy. "Price and...and the others are prepping exfil." He gestures towards the clearing.

"Everyone else made it back?" He asks as they push through the meager trees and into the open space where soldiers are rushing around tying up loose ends.

"Aye." Soap chokes out.

Ghost would question it, but he's too busy doing a sweep of the clearing, putting names to faces. Price and Gaz were there, going back and forth over something. It strikes him a little odd how furious Gaz looks, Price looking so resigned but he pushes it away in favour of catching a glimpse of the person he's more inclined to spot.

"We tried what we could, but she was pinned down." Soap breaks the silence, misinterpreting the reason behind his silent staring at Gaz and Price. "We didn't...Laswell's insisting immediate evac, but Gaz wants to at least find a body to bury." A bitter laugh that makes Ghost's stomach drop like a stone.

"What?"

Soap rakes a bloody hand through his hair, shakes his head, and continues on like he's in some sort of shock. "I don't want to. I think she'd rather us leave her buried there than dig out bits and pieces and bury her again." His voice cracks.

Bury...?

There's only one woman in their team.

There's only one person he hasn't accounted for in the clearing.

There's only one person he hasn't reached on his comms before they broke.

The world spins, his mind screams and falls silent, a crescendo of noise and denial. The ground shifts beneath his feet, rocking him into a state that makes him feel like he's walking on string.

"MacTavish." His words are so calm and even, it's eerie. "Is my girl still in the building?" He feels detached from himself, perhaps a way to distance himself from the pain of the implied.

Soap looks at him for a long moment, then croaks out one, broken word.

"Was."

And it all comes crashing down.

He's been through torture before. Had his skin marred, his fingernails torn off, been hung from his ribs but nothing, nothing has ever come close to the way his heart twists.

Nothing had ever made him panic in a way that has his throat closing up.

"Christ." Johnny breathes, and it's a sound that drags him back from the brink of something horrible. Soap's eyes are fixed on the empty spot on his vest that holds his radio on normal days, horrified. "You didn't bloody know." He states.

Wasting time answering is useless. Talking, speaking breathing is useless because not a moment later Ghost is sprinting towards the rubble.

The rubble that he had just watched fallen. The building he'd stood there and watched fall down, had felt pride and relief in seeing.

His gear digs into him, the air thickens with smoke and dust but he doesn't stop. Vaguely he hears people yelling after him, hears Price and Gaz and Soap and every other motherfucker who stood by and detonated the charges. Friend or foe it didn't matter to him right now. If someone dared to get in his way he'd mow them all down, grind them into nothing and keep going.

They blew the charges.

The airship would be here any minute to finish the job.

No, he'd get to her by then. Ghost slams down into the ground somewhere near where they split off. He'd find her by then, and he'd bring her back, bring her to medical and she'd be fine in a week or two.

There was no other fucking option.

The debris rakes off the fabric of his gloves, splits the skin on his fingertips as he hauls and pushes and pulls and digs through stone and metal and wood, leaving evidence of his efforts in the form of his own blood behind.

She had to be okay.

Not her. Not like his mother, not like his brother, not like his nephew.

Not her.

He digs, calls out her name until his voice is hoarse, pulls away piece after piece of rubble until his fingers are torn to shreds.

Just as he hears the sounds of incoming aircraft, he spots something that makes the knot in his chest slam against his ribcage in pure and utter terror.

It's been a while since Simon has felt fear this pure.

Hair that he's familiar with, strands that he's gripped and gently soothes his fingers through peek out from under the piece of metal he's just lifted.

Unable to breathe, his attempts at moving the earth increase tenfold. He picks off stone after stone, brick after brick until more of her body is uncovered. Still, unmoving, bleeding. Once he's gotten her top half free, he hesitates for one horrible moment because what if he looks down to see a still chest?

Steeling himself, he bites the bullet and curls an arm around her waist, pulling her out of the debris.

The relief that slams into him when he feels her shallow, breaths against his palm is almost enough to send him to his knees.

"I've got you, love." He mumbles, half to himself as he adjusts her in his arms. She's dead weight, pulse barely there but present.

Cuts and bruises, Ghost can name at least five lacerations and countless other places she's bleeding from, a broken arm, leg, and who knows what kind of internal bleeding.

Alive.

But still alive.

And that was enough because like hell Ghost was going to let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers ever again. He'd drag whoever he needed to her aid, he'd go to hell and back just to make sure she got to open her eyes again.

With limps that ache and a heart that's heavy, he quickly moves them out of the rubble, just in time to see two aircraft circling their location. They hadn't dropped any explosives yet, which a far part of Simon's brain thinks might be Price's doing.

Uncaring of whoever was watching, because frankly everyone could fuck off right now and it would be preferable, Ghost presses his lips to her hair as he moves into the clearing with her.

"Medic!" He barks out. "Right fucking now!"

He ignores Gaz's strangled gasp, ignores the way the entire team approaches them and tries to help. Ghost is a little concerned that if he let the adrenaline that's pumping through his veins go, he might just collapse as well, and that was unacceptable at the moment.

A weak hand grasps at the front of his vest, his eyes snapping immediately to her at the movement.

"S...'mon?" She says, words so faint he barely hears them?

"I'm here." He confirms, pressing his face to her hair harder. "I've got you, darling." He whispers. "I've got you."

It soothes her, because she nods against him and lets herself relax. It's only then that Simon notices she's holding something in her good hand in a deathly tight grip.

Upon closer inspection, it's a radio.

"I-...ou...Simon"

Fucking hell. His grip on her tightens.

She'd been trying to contact him in what she thought were her last moments, and he'd never have known because his fucking radio was broken.

It doesn't matter, he tells himself, chants it over and over again in his mind. He's got her again, and like hell is he ever letting go now.

When the medics bring out a stretcher, Price has to talk him into letting her go down into him, practically ordering him to let the bloody medics do their jobs. He doesn't stray far, however, keeping a hand on her at all times. Sat next to where they were working on her in the helicopter back, never once do his eyes stray from her unconscious form.

She wakes up once or twice, whines, and fights against the medic's hands with a panic-induced haze. Every time Simon is there, holding her hand, muttering rough, soothing praise and assurances.

It calms her down immediately, the trust in those far away pain-addled eyes when they meet his is enough to make his heart twist.

Simon stays with her the entire time, and then takes residence in a seat next to her hospital bed on base, ready for when she wakes up.

Hell would freeze over before Simon would ever let them be apart again.

If that makes him selfish, then so be it.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(12/08/2023)

[enchantedlov3r]

This is my playpen ellie williams x puppy!reader full fic<3

Summary: you and ellie are play fighting but it turns into something different, more intimate...

Pairing: ellie williams x puppy!reader (my reader)

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Smut, oral (r receiving), soft!dom!ellie, sub!pup!reader, moaning, ellie herself should be a warning, fingering, ✂️ing, kissing, breast play, squirting, play fighting, aftercare, that's it folks!

A/N: I'm in the writing mood y'all enjoyyy! MDNI!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!! smut warning will be placed when the scene arrives. first time writing for ellie, hope you guys like it!

based on this song:

you and ellie were the best of friends. you both loved each other very much and it showed in public.

ellie was in love with you though. she of course never exactly had the balls to tell you because you were so pretty. she didn't wanna ruin this wonderful friendship you guys had.

in these circumstances, it was hard to make friends her age, granted she was basically an adult now and so were you, it was still hard being lesbian and making female friends and struggling not to fall for them.

that's what happened between her and dina, they were really close friends and ellie fell for her. but now there kinda distant from each other because now dina is with jesse.

there's nothing wrong with that, she was still friends with them, it just wasn't the same like it used to be.

but now she found you and she just wanted you to be her's so badly. it haunted ellie at night. it got to the point joel noticed and would tease ellie about it everyday.

"stop starin' ellie, it's creepy." joel would say as ellie stared at you from across the room while you were sitting on couch.

it was movie night and you, ellie and joel always watched movies together. Tonight you invited dina.

"how can i sit here and not stare joel? How can she sit there and laugh and look so beautiful?" ellie says admiring your figure laughing with dina.

"well I understand that, she's a beautiful girl but c'mon, you know what happened between and dina" he says to ellie with a look.

"yea well joel i can assure you, that won't happen again, can we go watch the movie you old man?" ellie says with a smirk on her face before kicking off the wall and heading towards the couch.

"hey guys, whatcha talking about?" ellie announces her presence. Dina looks at her and smile and you smile at her as well jumping up to give her a hug.

"Hi els! we were just talking about our guesses on how the movies gonna end." you say giggling before letting her go and grabbing her hand to sit down.

"Yea, she thinks its gonna end happily but I think it's gonna end badly." dina says smiling at ellie.

"yea well, I don't know how it's gonna end but i'm guessing it'll prolly have idk maybe a double ending where it's both good and bad." ellie says with a shrug.

"that was no help at all ellie." dina says with a smirk on her face. "It's ok els, we'll see." you say laying a reassuring hand on her thigh.

ellies face turns a bit red and she smiles at you before rubbing her neck.

she had to admit she was very smitten about you. she loved how you were so oblivious and so cute. she adored your love for nature and your fascination with chasing things.

it was adorable.

'joel! hurry up! we wanna watch the movie!" dina calls out

"yea you old man, get out here!" ellie follows up

"please be safe and don't trip and break a hip please joel." you say lastly making ellie and dina laugh.

"what!? i'm genuinely concerned for joel!" you say with a pout on your face. ellie smiles and apologizes glancing down at your lips.

she turns away from you and looks at the figure appearing next to her, it's joel.

"alright girls, yall can shut up now. I'm pressing play." He says laughing.

the movie begins and it's going good, you guys are halfway through the movie when there's knocking on the door.

joel groans and the girls whine. joel pauses the movie and gets up and opens the door and sees tommy and jesse.

"what is it tommy?" joel asks clearly frustrated and annoyed. "well I need you for some help in the stables and jesse needs dina for something, I have no clue why though."

"alright, we'll be out in a sec." he says huffing out a puff of air.

"dina, jesse needs you, don't know why, els imma be gone for a little bit, i'll be back, pick up dina then we'll finish the movie, kay?" he announces.

you pout and ellie rolls her eyes, clearly frustrated. 'alright joel, bye see you later." ellie calls out.

"bye joel." you call out to him. he smiles, winks at ellie and waves his hand. 'bye girls." he says.

"by dina." you say,

"bye d." ellie says.

"bye guys." she says with a smile before running out the house and closing the door.

you both hear a click which is clearly joel locking the door before you both look at each other and smile.

"so whaddya wanna do?" ellie asks with a tight lipped smile as she pats her thighs.

"I don't know, can we go to your room, your bed is much more comfortable then this couch." you say with a smile.

"ok, yea no let's go." ellie says getting up and leading you to her room even though you already knew the way.

you guys finally make it to her room and ellie asks as she opens the door, "what now?" she says walking towards her bed.

"THIS!" you yell out jumping on her back and making ellie fall on to her bed. you giggle as you straddle ellie from behind.

ellie tries to get you off before reaching behind and using her fingers to tickle you.

you laugh out loud and fall off her. she climbs on top of you you both start tugging at each others arms and tickling each other.

SMUT INCOMING!!

ellies leg though found a way between yours and every time you moved, your cunt was brushed with the roughness of her jeans and the thinness of your shorts.

every time her leg brushes against your clit you whimper but try your best to cover it up with a giggle, but there was this one time that her leg brushed your now soaked cunt and you moaned her name.

"e-ellie, fuck." you moan out. ellie immediately stops in her tracks. she looks at you with wide eyes.

"w-what did you say?" ellie questions, clearly confused.

"ellie your leg has been brushing against my pussy for the longest and it feels really good, i tried my best to conceal my noises but it felt way too good." you confess.

"please els, please help me. I need it, i need you." you beg her as you paw at her clothes to remove them.

she bites her lip and mutters out a "fuck" before removing her shirt and her sports bra, she starts unbuckling her jeans and gets off of you.

"fuck, take your pants off." she say breathlessly as she stares at your breasts. she climbs back on top of you once your pants and panties are removed.

she puts one leg on top and over you and lines her pussy up with yours. she starts experimenting by slowly moving her hips rubbing her clit against yours.

you let out a long moan and grip onto her leg. "fuck els, yea r-right there." you whimper out.

she moans too, "fuck yea, your pussy feels so good, fuck" ellie moans.

her pace gets faster and your desperate thrusts and movements are indicating that your close. "your close huh? you gonna cum, cum for me." ellie says grabbing your breast and rubbing and squeezing your nipples.

you cry out feeling your release coming closer and closer. you squeeze your eyes shut and moan out ellie's name loudly. she curses before her hips twitch as do yours as you both cum at the same time.

"fuck baby, c'mere wanna try something." ellie whispers to you. you scoot closer to her and ellie lays down on her stomach.

she lines her face up with your cunt and experiments with her tongue. she licks a stripe up your cunt and you mewl.

"oh ellie!" you whine out, the feeling of her tongue in the place you need her most feels amazing.

"you taste so good babe." she moans into your cunt. the vibrations of her moans course through you making your hips jolt at the friction.

what surprises you is when she adds a finger inside you, you cry out at the feeling of the strecth.

"oh fucking hell els!" you grip her hair tighter and she groans into your cunt. she's having the time of her life going ham on your pussy.

she adds a second finger eliciting the same reaction out of you that you had the first time.

she slides her other hand down to her pussy and slips to fingers in moaning into your cunt loudly.

ellie felt euphoric, not only pleasing you but also pleasing herself. ellie got pleasure out of watching you squirm and writhe around as she ate you out.

"f-fuck." she mumbles as she feels her high approaching. she chases it while still finding the rhythm to please you.

she cums at hearing you cry out her name. she's breathing just as heavily now as you are. she removes her fingers from her cunt and grabs your plush thighs to finish you off.

"you gonna cum again for me love?" she asks sucking on your clit as she feels your walls tightening and your hips spasming.

"ellie! oh ff-fuckk!" you cry out as you squirt all over ellie, her tongue lapping up your juices.

you pull her face closer to your cunt as you ride out your high, the feeling of euphoria taking over you as you cum.

ellie removes her fingers before locking eyes with you. she sucks her fingers clean making you whine at how hot it was.

"l-lemme help you." you say batting your big pretty doe puppy eyes at her as you offer to help get her off.

"it's fine love, I'm good." she says as she gets up off the bed. "lemme clean you up yea?"

she goes into the bathroom and grabs a rag, wets it with warm water as it was very cold in jackson lately.

she wipes your cunt and you sigh in relief feeling warm water on your bare skin.

she rinses it again and wipes your body down from your breasts down to your thighs.

she then cleans herself off before laying down in the bed with you. she pulls the blankets over both of you and snuggles up with you.

"you wanna shirt of mine or no? so you know... y-your not cold?" she asks.

"yea that would be nice els, thank you." you say. you watch as she walks over to the drawer and grabs to shirts out, a black one and a green one.

she tosses you the green one and she puts on the black one. she grabs a pair of underwear for herself and you and you guys get dressed.

once you guys are finished you guys lay back down and cuddle up.

"this may sound crazy to say but, I think i'm in love with you." ellie admits.

"you think?" you question. "no n-no, fuck. no I know I love you. I've been in love with you for a long time." ellie says tracing circles on your thigh.

"i'm in love with you too ellie!" you say smiling at her. "I thought I was being kinda obvious with the way I acted around you."

ellie chuckles and kisses you for the first time tonight. it's long and it's passionate and it has nothing but love in it.

with her eyes still closed she smiles. "will you do me the honor in making me the happiest girl in the world and be my girlfriend?" ellie asks.

you smile and shower her face with kisses before answering. "YES! YES! YES!" you say excitingly.

you hug her and you both lay there together eventually falling asleep in each others arms.

Taglist: (?) whoever wants to join just lemme know!

COMMENTS, REBLOGS, AND LIKES ARE MUCH APPRECIATED!

©enchantedlov3r| All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[shotmrmiller]

A/N: This was supposed to be a small thing cuz i inhale toxic ex's like air but here we are.

Thinking of a toxic ex!Simon that you broke up with almost a year ago. You wanted more than what he was willing to give you— unbelievable fuck aside— and you were just gonna get hurt in the long run. So you ended it.

What hurt the most was how he didn't even try to put up a fight. He just stood in front of you, as impassive as ever.

"If that's what you want." He shrugged.

And that was that. Ever since then, you've focused on yourself and your job. Meaning no dates, no get-togethers, nothing. Just work and lonely nights with a glass of wine. That he hadn't reached out once in all this time certainly rubbed salt on your wounds.

Now you're here. Out with a group of friends at a bar, after being borderline guilt-tripped into coming. A couple of mango martinis in and you're approached by a handsome fellow. Curly, brown locks and sun-kissed skin.

"Can I buy you another one, lass?"

"Sure. I'll never turn down a free drink."

He chuckles and his smooth laughter sends a shiver up your spine. As he turns away to get the bartender, you flick your eyes at your friends. They're giving you cheeky smiles and thumbs up.

Rolling your eyes with a smile, Mr. Handsome comes back with your drink before saddling up next to you on a bar stool.

"So what's a beautiful bird such as yourself doing all alone here?"

"I've been locked up for too long. Needed a change of scenery. And I gotta say, the view's quite nice."

He grabbed the back of your stool and dragged you a little closer to him, before tilting his head to the side— emerald green eyes half lidded and slightly covered by his curly hair.

"Is that right? I gotta say I also like what I'm seeing." Moving his hand from the padding of your stool to hook onto your hip, he says, "How about we move to a more private setting? Do you live nearby?"

He'd be the first guy since Simon that you've shown any interest in. You weren't ready for a relationship yet, but a distraction wouldn't hurt. And his staggering good looks certainly helped his case.

Nodding, you take out your phone from your purse to text your friends that have somehow disappeared when it vibrates, so you unlock your screen.

Take him home and I'm slitting his throat.

You flinch and look around wildly in a panic. Where is he?

"Hey, are you alright?"

Your phone vibrates again and you swallow hard before opening the text.

If his hand doesn't remove itself from your body, it'll be coming off of his.

You squeak before aggressively removing yourself from the stool, tripping over your heels. You weren't as sober as you'd like to be. The guy tries to stabilize you by grabbing your wrist but you jerk yourself away from his grip.

"I uh, I have somewhere to be." You toss on your jacket over your shoulders before running towards the front door and into the cool, rainy night.

Bzzt. Another text.

Good choice. I'd have hated ruining your nice purple comforter. It's one of my favorites.

You turn your body, doing a 360, eyes aimlessly looking for the ghost of your past life, when your phone rings. You frantically press the answer button.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

You hear him tsk. "I'd lower that tone of yours, love. I don't appreciate being spoken to like that," he says condescendingly.

Sighing, "I'm allowing you to continue this delusional 'break' of yours, but my patience runs thin. No one is allowed to touch you but me."

Your heart beats viciously at his audacity and tears start running down your cheeks. In fear, in relief or in anger, you don't know.

"Don't cry, doll. You should've known you'd always be mine. Now go home. I'll keep you safe."

Hanging up, you do as he says, wondering how long he's been keeping tabs on you— haunting you. You make a note to yourself to check your flat for cameras.

[vultbae]

small world ❀

art donaldson x female reader

part two (soon)

↳ summary: Art and Patrick were once your peers at the Mark Rebellato Academy —not the nicest ones. Five years later, you've made a friend that can help you fuck with their minds a little.

↳ warnings: making out, dry humping, manipulation, a lot of pettiness, mentions of bullying, and weight!! the dumbification of art donaldson tbh

↳ notes: Istg I be having the most random ideas, but I hope you enjoy!! as always, english is not my first language lolz

word count: 3.1k

Tashi enters the living room with a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes, moving gracefully in a beautiful blue mini-dress. With a soft pop, she eases the cork, instantly pouring the effervescent gold-ish liquid into the two glasses. 

"You shouldn't even worry about them," Tashi says with a wry smile. As she finishes serving you some rosé Veuve Clicquot, she hands you the glass. "What are you—like, the second or third in Europe? They are gonna be broke by their thirties," she concludes, staring at you with confident eyes.

You nod, taking a sip of champagne. "Don't see it as serious; it'll be fun."

Tashi raises her glass, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. "Im just saying, don't stress over men."

You clink your flute against Tashi’s. "Alright."

A year and a half ago, you had met Tashi Duncan, who you believed was a hard-hearted bitch but ended up being a close friend of yours. She is merciless, proficient, and goddamn; she has that vicious aura you worship so much. While living in Biot, you'd always look for the nearest CRT to watch Tashi flawlessly play, enchanted by how she unnerved her adversaries.

During summer break, your father dragged you out of the academy to visit California for a benefaction event. Amidst the glamour and chatter of the event, you caught sight of Tashi —most likely attending due to her relevance spiking around the area. Luckily, your connection rapidly deepened, fueled by reciprocal admiration and tennis dependence.

And the commitment to stay in touch despite the geographical distance worked. Tashi became pretty much your best friend, and you became hers. Aside from the workaholic aspect, the resemblances between you were too much to ignore. Sooner than later, you discovered much about Tashi's personal life, the players she liked and despised, and her daily anecdotes regarding tennis and her intimate life. And that's how you became acquainted with Fire and Ice's peculiar hyper-fixation on Tashi.

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig.

You thought it was a unique offering from God. You didn't expect you'd get the opportunity to face the golden pair again. When Tashi told you she had met Zweig and Donalson, a powerful sentiment of gratitude washed over you. You nearly fell to your knees when she proceeded to explain they were a walking boner for her. If that wasn't high power granting you a second chance to delight yourself, it was an insane coincidence.

But telling Tashi the backstory was a different pain in the ass. Although she expressed some sort of disgust towards Zweig and Donaldson's brainless carnal-based attitude, you couldn't buy it.  And your skepticisms were demonstrated as valid when she —dreamy voice and all that shit— confessed through the phone she nearly had a threesome with them. A fucking threesome. You couldn't hold it back anymore, so you told her everything.

Tashi was aware of tennis's influence on your household, as you were raised by two renowned tennis coaches from the States. When you turned eight, your parents turned you in at the Mark Rebellato Academy —as if you were condemned to play tennis by default. The detrimental part of your journey was developing thyroid issues when you were twelve. Jesus, twelve years old — the commencement of the preteen period where kids either kiss your feet or bully you. One year after, along with the anticipated weight gain, you met Art and Patrick. And as if you weren't unfortunate enough already, the two —who at the time looked like fucking Beavis and Butthead— decided they didn't like your physical appearance. They hated it.

“Hey, Y/l/n!” Patrick’s voice rang out, sharp and mocking.

You froze, your heart sinking to the underground. You tried to focus on your serve, but your hands were immobile. 

Patrick sauntered over, his smirk widening as he looked you up and down. “What’s the matter, Y/n? Ball too heavy for you to lift?”

You heard Art’s laughter behind your back. He joined in a kind of trembling voice. “Or maybe she’s saving her strength for lunch. She doesn't hesitate when it comes to eating.”

The echo of them and the rest of the kids on the court laughing was a sound that felt like daggers piercing your heart.

After two years of ceaseless bullying and humiliation—which also distracted you from tennis—your parents sent you to The Mouratoglou Tennis Academy in Biot, a small town in France. You are not sure if it was the harassment itself, the low self-esteem, or possibly your undeniable attraction for Donaldson. It didn't matter. By the age of seventeen, you were undoubtedly one of the major promises of European tennis.

So, explaining the theatrical, soap opera-like backstory to Tashi for your detestation of Zweig and Donaldson took time. But when you did, it was worth it because Tashi didn't distrust your testimony, and if anyone was exhilarated to play some moves against them at the beginning, it was Duncan. 

That's the explanation behind Tashi pitching a tremendous party to celebrate her commitment to Stanford. This was absurd, to say the least, considering she had college offers piling up, and no one doubted she would commit to a prestigious school. But Tashi knew you'd visit from France, and this was just the perfect instance to hook you up with both condemned.

Because, of course, her biggest fangirls would attend. 

It didn't take long until the country house was full of people ranging from Tashi's cousins to bare acquaintances. And spotting Fire and Ice was easier than you thought. 

Tashi elbows you discreetly and signs with her head the direction they are standing. "There they are."

Your gaze falls over Art, who is laughing with —who you assume is—Patrick. His features are sharper and more defined. The lanky, slender physique you remembered from his premature teenage years had filled out into a more athletic build, with broader shoulders tapering to a trim waist covered in a light pink shirt. His blonde hair, which was no longer too light, was now strawberry blonde-ish, slightly tousled, and cascading over his ears.

Patrick, standing a few feet away, was equally transformed. His brunette hair, just a bit longer than you remember, frames a face that had hardened over the years—angular jaw, defined cheekbones, and piercing eyes that seem to miss nothing. The fucking smirk is still there, and you can see how he displays it every two seconds at whatever thing Art is telling him.

The interior of your stomach resembles a volcano about to erupt. You feel ambivalent, so many emotions overlapping each other. You see two cute, hell, gorgeous guys, and you wish you could approach them without considering crucifying them before. And you can't help but feel envious at how effortlessly Tashi managed to tame Art and Patrick while the only thing you got from them was hostility.

Your eyes can't seem to unbuckle from them. Tashi catches you slightly frowning at the panorama, and she isn't certain if you are infatuated or planning murder on the spot. "Come on."

You have no time to react before Tashi leads you through some partygoers to reach where Zweig and Donaldson are. Like dogs sniffling fresh meat, it's pathetic how their heads twist simultaneously when Tashi approaches them, conversation instantly pausing. It is as if Tashi's presence was magnetic for them.

"Well, hello, both of you," Tashi greets them excitedly, still holding your hand. "Didn't think you'd come."

Art's eyes widen, "Are you kidding?" he's about to keep speaking, but his gaze merges with yours for a split second, and he shuts off. Dead. Silent. 

"—Stanford's a big deal, Tashi." Patrick interrupts, compensating for the awkwardness of Art's sudden number. "I had to drag this lazy fuck out of his bed, but we made it."

Suddenly, Art's out of the trance, tearing his blue eyes off you to bombard Patrick with a killer look. "Hey—shut up, Patrick."

Tashi sweetly, softly giggles at their word exchange. God, she's good, you think. Tashi turns to gesture to you, "This is my friend, Claire, by the way. She is visiting from the Mouratoglou Academy—

To be fair, Claire is a believable name.

"Wait, the Patrick Mouratoglou Academy? In France?" Art runs over Tashis's sentence, incredulously shooting you a broad-eyed glare. You nod in agreement, still processing you are having a civil conversation with Art Donaldson.

You feel Tashi squeezing your hand at your quietness.

"Yeah, you know it?" you timidly ask, forcing a polite smile that, if you were Art, you wouldn't buy it. But, of course, he's as dumb as a pigeon.

"Heck... Of course, I do. I wish I could go there."

Tashi smirks, enjoying the spectacle. 

Patrick’s investment in the conversation piques. "Mouratoglou, huh? That's impressive. Maybe we could hit the court sometime."

And that's the first time Patrick makes eye contact with you. He's stabbing you with his stare. You abruptly wonder if he's as dumb as Art, probably not. 

You squeeze Tashi's hand.

Tashi leans closer to Patrick, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "Hey, Pat... do you remember what you mentioned about erectile dysfunction? My aunt's a sexologist, I think—

Patrick loudly chuckles, apparently alarmed by the deficiency of filtering confidential information. "I need to smoke sum' stronger. Wanna come, Tash?"

Tashi purses her lips, casting a quick glance at you. "Sure."

Your point of view is like a sitcom scene, swiftly panning from Tashi's body leaving your radar to the boy in front of you, staring at you with soothing eyes and reddened cheeks. It's basically comical.

Art's eyes dart around the lively yard before landing back on you. He clears his throat. "So, uh, Claire? That's a cute name."

It takes tons of willpower not to drop the good girl act right there. You attempt to return the sentiment with a quirk on the corner of your lips. "I need to get a drink. Come with me?"

He shakes his head up and down, finding it easier than answering with words.

For the first time in a couple of months, the inside of Art's mind has more than a giant cardboard cutout of Tashi Duncan. He is in awe. 

You lead the way, weaving through clusters of drunk teenagers towards the house. You feel Art's gaze lingering on your back —or ass, you don't know—a magnetic pull that makes you hyper-aware of his presence.

You arrive in the kitchen and quickly grab a bottle of vodka, a can of soda, and a party cup. Art watches you closely with a look of hypnotic admiration as if you were concocting the most complicated cocktail in the world. You want to roll your eyes so badly.

"That dress looks amazing on you." Art blurts out, unable to contain his thoughts any longer. 

You look at him. Art is sitting on one of the high stools by the kitchen island, his elbow resting on the table's sleek surface, supporting his chin with his hand. There is a softness in his eyes completely foreign to you, an infrequent vulnerability that contrasts sharply with the characteristic asshole demeanor you remember.

To Art, you appear almost ethereal, like an ideal concept from a wet dream of his. His thoughts are a kaleidoscope of jumbled fragments of memory that make no sense. You look so familiar... but no. 

There's no way he would forget about you.

You glance up, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. "Thank you," you reply, handing him a drink.

Art sips on his red plastic cup, eyes hooked on yours. "So, uhm. I just realized I never introduced myself properly. Im Art—

"Yeah, Donaldson, I know." you cut him off, leaving him completely silent and confused. "I've seen you play. Not bad," you clarify, with an unconscious hint of pride in your voice.

Art's smile widens. "Wait, you've seen me play?" he exaggeratedly emphasizes me. 

You nod.

His eyes twinkle with excitement. There’s this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "That's, uh, great. Next time you are watching, I'll play better..."

His innate nerdiness and try-hard flirtiness provoke nausea in you. If you didn't know him, it would be a different story. But seeing a former, intense crush who shamelessly bullied you for so long, giving you heart-shaped eyes...

It's fucking bizarre. And it pisses you off.

Art begins conversing about something else. You don't know what—tennis-related, maybe. You are not wearing earphones with noise cancellation, but you can't hear him anymore. It's a blur as his words course through one ear and depart through the other. Immediately. Your brain has simply blocked the action of listening to him.

You step closer, so close you can see the fine lines in his eyes, the flecks of green amidst the blue, with a hint of brown sectoral heterochromia on his right eye. You can smell the faint woody scent of his cologne, something spicy that makes you salivate. His lips keep moving, forming words that dissolve into the dim background noise. The music, the laughter, the chatter—they all blend into a distant hum.

Art's voice vanishes into oblivion as you fix your gaze on his mouth, the curve of his lips, the way they part and close as he speaks. "Art," you say, stopping him in his tracks.

His eyes flicker with uncertainty, puzzlement, and a spark of hope. His adam's apple throbs as he notices you staring at his lips.

You lean in, your breath mingling with his, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hand reaches up, fingers brushing against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the slight stubble that prickles against your touch. Art's breath hitches, his eyes widening in surprise, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he leans in, too.

Your lips crash against his. Although you don't want to make it weird, you fail. It's not a gentle kiss or a precious, out-of-a-book lips meeting. It's fierce, instructing, a clash of sour sentiments and intent. You pour all your frustration, your pent-up anger, and your fucked-up desire to overpower him into that kiss. 

Art's shock melts away and quickly replaces it with an appetite that matches yours. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours. The kiss deepens, his lips parting to allow your tongue to explore, to taste the unmistakable flavor of cigarette and cheap vodka. You can feel the warmth of his breath and the way his hands tighten on your waist. It's almost as if he's frightened you'll pull away at some point.

And you can only fantasize about the moment you walk away.

—but not yet. You push harder, your fingers tugging slightly in his messy strawberry-blonde hair. He lowly moans into your mouth, a sound that dispatches a shiver down your spine. His hands roam your back, tracing the curve of your spine and dangerously lowering to your ass level. There's a distress in his touch you never thought would come from him.

The way he's dissolving under your venomous touch is already a win for you. You've managed to put him under you. And it's intoxicating, this control you have over him, this ability to make him forget everything else.

You pull back, your lips hovering just above his. Art's eyes are half-lidded, his lips swollen and ridiculously red from the intensity of the kiss. He looks at you in pure infatuation, "What- I... Did I do something wrong?"

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him again. "Come with me."

You peek at the party going outside—most people are outside. The living room is nearly empty, with a few alcoholized individuals entering the country house to refill their drinks. It's perfect.

You take Art's hand, your fingers lacing through his, and you lead him toward the sectional, six-seat couch in the center of the living room. You push Art down onto the couch, and he complies without resistance, his lust-drunken eyes never leaving yours; he nearly chokes on his spit at the sight of you slowly straddling him, your knees sinking into the soft cushions on either side of his hips.

"Jesus, Claire—"

You get the ick at the roleplay name Tashi baptized you with. 

"Shh," you whisper, leaning in to brush your lips against his in a soft, teasing kiss. "You never shut up, Donaldson."

And that's odd for him. He gives it a second thought because he isn't aware of how much he has talked, but definitely not that much. 

The overthinking vanishes as soon as you begin to kiss him again, slowly at first, savoring the way his lips deliciously move against yours. Art's hands rest tentatively on your hips, his fingers twitching as if afraid to hold on too tight. You guide his hands around your waist, urging him to hold you closer. His grip tightens, and you can feel the heat of his palms through the delicate fabric of your black mini-dress.

A sigh rolls out from your throat when you perceive something hard putting pressure against your core —which, because of the dress, is only shielded by thin lace panties. The coarse fabric of Art's light denim jeans rubs splendidly against your pussy. 

A primitive groan slips out of Art's lips the moment you grind your hips against his clothed dick. Suddenly, he breaks the kiss, and his eyes wander downwards. "Shit— you'll kill me," he pants into your mouth.

You pull back slightly, looking into his eyes. They're dark with craving, his pupils dilated. "Then let me."

You are about to attack his lips again, but he hesitates. You tilt your head in confusion, murmuring a low what?

Art starts to speak, his voice shaky and breathless. "I... I was wondering if you wanted to go back to my hotel with me."

Before you can respond, Tashi suddenly appears in your vision behind Art's head. "Claire, there you are," she says, fucking loud with a knowing, manipulative smile on her lips. "Your dad called, he's outside."

You feel a surge of delicious triumph as you see the apparent dissatisfaction in Art's eyes. 

"Sorry, Art," you say, standing up and smoothing your dress. "Maybe another time."

There’s a raw sadness in his eyes, an almost childlike hurt that he can’t quite conceal. He isn't even drunk; he's fully conscious of the stunning girl he just met and now is evaporating as if she was going to turn into a wolf at midnight or something. 

As you are about to disappear from Art's vision, he shouts at you, "I'll see you later, right?"

But you don't answer.

Instead, you hurriedly walk with Tashi to reach the front yard. 

"I didn't lie about your dad being here, though," Tashi clarifies, pointing at the big Jeep parked in front of the country house.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, a smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, alright." You glance back at the house to ensure you are out of earshot. "I think fucking him would've been better. Do you think he's gonna remember about this tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah. This is definitely gonna fuck his head up for a while." Tashi chuckles, "he's pretty obsessive."

You feel a swell of fulfillment at your best friend's words. "How obsessive?"

Tashi smiles. "A lot."

❀

[ssprayberrythings]

it'll be ok | LN4

lando norris x female!reader

warnings: unexpected pregnancy, talk of throwing up/being nauseous, suggestive actions implied if you get what i’m saying, early on pregnancy symptoms, mention of alcohol and being drunk (not the reader!!), lando being a simp for his girlfriend in every aspect of his life.

note: i know how pregnancy works and i’m not saying that reader got pregnant on this trip, her and lando are just h**ny 😭 (increased sex drive is a symptom of pregnancy though so..…) 

double note: i’m not sure how lily (oscar’s lily) is as a person but she seems like a sweetheart so i went off those vibes and i referred to alexandra by her full name cause if i said alex, someone might think alex albon lol 

okay thats it. enjoy 😉

word count: a little over 5k

masterlist | taglist

You and Lando had been dating now for close to 2 years. You were happy with the life you were making with him and he was happy to have you by his side through his success. 

Everything was going great, at least it was up until 5 minutes ago. Now here you were sitting in the bathroom to the villa you had rented out for a vacation with friends, holding a pregnancy test not sure what to do with the fact that there were two lines looking back at you. 

48 Hours Before Finding Out

“Omg this is so much more prettier than the pictures” you said as you, Lando and some of your closest friends which included some of the other drivers and their girlfriends, walked into the villa 

“This is gonna be great” Lando exclaimed excitedly while wrapping an arm around your waist “Alright everyone get their rooms sorted and when you’re done, meet down by the beach” he told everyone, earning a round of “okays” and “sounds goods”. 

You and Lando made your way to the master suite on the second floor, seeing as you had been the ones to suggest the vacation and rent the villa, it was only fair you got the biggest room. 

“Lan I don’t know which bathing suit to wear” you asked as you stared at the bathing suits you had brought. 

“Doesn’t matter to me, either way it’ll end up on the floor later” he whispered in your ear as he came up behind you 

You blushed at his flirty remark “You’re naughty” you joked with him 

“Only for you” he reiterated as he put his hands on your hips and started kissing your neck 

“Lan if we start doing that, we’re never gonna leave” you tried being serious even though the shudder in your voice gave you away, telling Lando he was succeeding in distracting you. 

This happened quite frequently. Lando knew you so well and he made you feel things, none of your previous boyfriends had ever made you feel. 

He continued kissing your neck, knowing exactly where to put his lips. You felt yourself giving in with the way he was kissing you and how his hands were slowly moving down from your hips, you knew you wouldn’t be making it to the beach anytime soon. 

-

You and Lando eventually left your room, joining your friends on the beach. 

“Where the hell were you two” Max asked as he sat on a beach chair with everyone else doing their own thing 

“Y/N needed help picking a bathing suit” Lando responded smirking, knowing Max wouldn’t believe him but also knew he wouldn’t push for the truth, he was smart enough to put two and two together. 

“Babe I’m gonna go in the water, care to join?” Lando asked turning to you as your hands were interlocked 

“No I’m okay for now, I’m gonna try and tan a bit then I’ll come join you” you told him, he smiled at your answer and then gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and started making his way towards the water to join the friends of yours that were currently playing water volleyball. 

You spent the rest of your day in between tanning with the girls and playing in the water with Lando. Once everyone was done with the sun, you all made your way back to the house where you went to your perspective rooms to rest a little before you went out for dinner. 

You felt extra tired which on any other day you might be more concerned about but you had been travelling between time zones and then spent a significant amount of time in the sun, so in your head it made sense to be this tired. 

Once you had changed from your bathing suit into some clean undies and a oversized T-shirt, you crashed on yours and Lando’s bed where he was already sitting scrolling on his phone 

“Lan im gonna take a quick nap, wake me up in like an hour so I can start getting ready” you told him as you curled into a ball nuzzling your face into the pillows 

“Sure thing sweets” he said leaning down to kiss your head before going back to his phone, keeping one hand free to play with your hair knowing that always helped put you to sleep. 

-

Lando stayed true to his word and gently woke you up about an hour into your nap, not wanting to, seeing as you looked so peaceful but knowing you’d be upset if he let you sleep longer than you wanted.

“Babe” he said gently stroking his hand over your cheek 

“Hmm” you mumbled still half asleep 

“You wanted me to wake you so you could start to get ready” he told you smiling at how cute you looked 

“Why are you a good boyfriend and actually listen to what I say” you grumbled 

He chuckled “C’mon we can take a shower together, that’ll wake you up” he suggested knowing you’d get what he was implying 

You opened one eye looking at him to see if he was joking but knew he wasn’t when you saw the look in his eyes, this got you to open both eyes and slowly stretch, waking up fully in the process 

“Alright pretty boy let’s go” you said as you got off the bed causing a laugh to leave Lando as he got off the bed, following you into the bathroom. 

-

Once everyone including you and Lando were ready, you decided to visit a cute Italian restaurant nearby. Everyone in the group all loved Italian so it worked out perfectly. 

While you were walking to the restaurant, you felt a slight squeeze in your stomach but chalked it up to that all you had to eat today was some fruit and a small salad. 

Lately your appetite hadn’t been what it normally was, you pushed this thought aside though wanting to enjoy your vacation and deciding you’d worry about it once you got back home. 

After some walking you reached the restaurant, Charles taking point and speaking to the hostess in Italian to get a table. They brought you to the part of the restaurant that was more private and made sure there were enough seats for everyone. 

The host got you all menus and water, letting you know your server would be there momentarily. 

You politely smiled at her and offered her thanks in Italian, you may have loved everything Italian but your knowledge of the language didn’t go past basic phrases and words. 

You sat next to Lando and Lily, Oscars girlfriend. The two of you had gotten close with your boyfriends being teammates. You felt that squeeze in your stomach again, this time more intense so you casually reached for your water and hoped it would help. 

Once you had drank enough water to feel better, you went back to look at your menu 

“Baby are you okay? You just practically chugged your water” Lando asked quietly turning to you 

You nodded “Yeah, I'm good, I just didn’t realize how thirsty I was” you lied offering him a smile, he seemed to believe you and went back to the menu, Lily however offered you a strange look, having overheard your words and not fully believing you but deciding not to push. 

You could still feel that slight squeeze in your stomach and was apprehensive to order a large meal so you went for a simple soup, figuring it was the safest option. 

When everyone’s food arrived, you caught a whiff of the food around you and suddenly that squeeze in your stomach was becoming too much to handle. You didn’t want to bring attention to yourself but if you didn’t go to the washroom now, you weren’t sure what would happen so you turned to Lily.

“Lils I need your help” you whispered to the girl who had just taken a bite of her food 

“Is everything okay? You look pale” she asked concerned 

“I’m gonna throw up and desperately need to get away from the table” you explained trying to stuff the nausea down until you were somewhere else 

“Say no more” the girl said then turned to Oscar letting him know she was using the washroom, he smiled and moved out of the booth, luckily he was on the end 

“Y/N will you come with?” She asked, acting like the washroom was her idea and just wanted a friend to accompany her 

Your name sparked Lando’s interest and turned to face you 

“Babe I’ll be back im just gonna go to the washroom with Lily” you told him quickly before getting out of the booth, offering Oscar a small smile to say sorry for interrupting his meal 

Then you and Lily made your way to the washroom, as much as you would’ve preferred to run there, you didn’t want to seem weird so you casually bit your lip and hoped you could get there in time. 

“Girls are so strange in always wanting someone with them to go to the washroom” Lando said to Oscar eating his food 

Oscar just shrugged “I’m used to it at this point” he replied to his friend and teammate before both drivers went back to their previous conversation with the others around them. 

Meanwhile in the washroom, you were in a stall on your knees with your head over the toilet. Luckily Lily was there to hold back your hair and rub your back. 

“Are you okay? Did you eat something you shouldn’t have?” She asked after you were done and had stood up, using some tissues to wipe your mouth 

“I didn’t have anything weird to eat, just some fruit and a small salad” you told her as you fixed your hair and did your best to get the taste of vomit out of your mouth. Remembering you had gum in your purse and silently saying a prayer to your past self for putting it there. 

“That’s strange” she said even though you could sense there was more the girl wanted to say but held back 

“I don’t know how I'm gonna get through dinner. The smell of everything is what triggered this” you told her turning to her 

“Maybe just tell Lando you aren’t feeling the greatest and are gonna walk back to the Villa” she suggested 

“He wont let me go alone, he’ll want to join me and I don’t want to take him away from everyone” you explained 

“I’ll go back with you. I’ll just tell Oscar to bring my food home in a to go box” she offered 

“Are you sure Lils?” You asked the girl, feeling bad

“That’s what friends are for” she smiled

“Okay, let’s go then” you told her 

-

When you made your way back to the table, Lando looked at you, you could see there was some concern behind his eyes probably because of how long you had been in the washroom 

You slid in the booth to tell him you and Lily were gonna head back 

“I’m just not feeling super great and don’t want to take you away from everyone so Lily’s gonna walk back with me” you explained to him 

“Are you okay? What are you feeling? I’ll walk back with you, I don’t mind” he told you the concern only worsening 

“Babe I'm fine, really, I'm sure a good nights rest is all I need and then tomorrow I’ll be good” you reassured him, offering him a small smile 

“Okay but text me if you need anything or want me to come back” he told you which you nodded and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before getting out of the booth and walking to the exit with Lily. 

“Where’s Lily and Y/N going?” Charles asked 

“Y/N’s not feeling the great so they’re going back to the villa” Lando answered him 

Charles nodded then went back to talking to his girlfriend, Alexandra.

Lando shared a look with Oscar as both of their girlfriends had left them 

“Did Lily say anything?” Lando asked Oscar as they moved closer now that there was some space between them 

“No, just that she was going back with Y/N” he told him. He could see Lando was worried “I’m sure she’ll be fine and Lily will text if anything happens” Oscar did his best to reassure the Brit. Lando just nodded and silently went back to his food. 

-

24 Hours Before Finding Out

The next day, you had woken up and luckily you didn’t feel any feelings of nausea, hopefully that was an indicator that today was going to be different from yesterday and you could enjoy your trip. 

You got out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, you had a strange craving for orange juice which wasn’t normally your go to breakfast drink but you weren’t mad about it, seeing as the orange juice in the fridge was freshly squeezed. 

You smiled when you poured yourself a tall glass and went to sit on the patio furniture outside enjoying the beautiful view.

You pulled your phone out, scrolling through TikTok. You tried to avoid TikTok because most of the time you’d see videos of your boyfriend or any sort of f1 content but today you gave it a chance. 

So far it was going great until you saw a video of this creator explaining their battle with cancer and how they were finally in remission. You felt the tears gathering in your eyes but figured it was just your hormones and you being a sensitive person. 

Then you moved from TikTok to Instagram and saw a post about puppy adoptions and suddenly you couldn’t hold the tears back and that’s how Lando found you, crying over your phone 

“Babe what’s wrong?” He asked instantly pulling the chair next to you, rubbing your back 

“These puppies, they’re all up for adoption” you told him, showing him the rescue centre’s instagram highlighting all the dogs they had up for adoption. 

Lando found you the cutest for crying over dogs “Why are you crying though?” he asked still rubbing your back 

You shrugged, wiping your eyes with the back of your sleeve “I don’t know, they just all look so cute and I want them to find their forever homes” you tried to explain why you were crying, even if you didn’t fully understand why. 

“You’re adorable” he smiled at you “How about when we get back, we can try and organize an adoption event with the centre, I’m sure the attention from an f1 driver should help” he suggested.

He would do anything to see you smile even if that meant having to talk with his PR manager about organizing a puppy adoption event sponsored by McLaren. 

The idea brought a smile to your face and you sniffled “Thats really sweet of you Lan” you told him 

“We’ll get all those dogs adopted” you leaned over giving your boyfriend a hug. The tears had subsided which Lando was grateful for, he hated seeing you cry. 

He hugged you back, kissing the top of your head “Anything for you sweets” he reassured you. 

-

After your moment, you and Lando joined the rest of your friends inside. You all enjoyed a nice breakfast together, then once the dishes were dealt with, you all went your own ways, everyone wanting to do something different. 

You and Lando planned to go take some pictures around the area. That was one of the things that drew you two to each other, both having a passion for photography. 

On your first date, you spent so much time sharing pictures and the stories that went with them so when you started dating, it became something you did together, whenever you could. 

You were walking up to your room when Kika called your name. You turned looking in the direction of where your name had come, seeing Kika sticking her head out of her and Pierre’s room.

“Whats up? Is everything okay?” you asked as you approached their room. 

“Yeah, I just was wondering if you had a tampon or a pad, I got my period and just realized I didn’t bring anything” she chuckled 

“Oh yeah, I have tampons in my room. I’ll bring you a few to get you through until you can go to a local store” you told the girl, she smiled at you “Thank you, youre an angel” 

You just smiled and then turned walking to your room, going straight to the washroom, to look through your toiletries bag. As you looked at the mini travel sized bag you brought filled with tampons, it hit you, you had never gotten your period. 

You were supposed to get it right before the trip and the last few days of your period should’ve been the first couple days you were away but as you got ready for vacation, you still hadn’t gotten it which was why you brought a weeks worth figuring you’d end up getting it on the trip but you still hadn’t gotten it and that sparked a fear within you. 

You quickly grabbed a few for Kika and closed the bag. As you turned to leave the washroom, you bumped into Lando “Oh sorry babe” you told him, you must’ve seemed frazzled judging by the expression Lando offered you 

“Are you okay?” he asked “Oh yeah, just need to give something to Kika” you told him hiding the tampons behind your back.

Obviously Lando knew what a period was, having a mother, 2 sisters and a girlfriend, he was used to it and had they been for you, you wouldn’t have cared but you didn’t want to make Kika uncomfortable so you with held those details from him. 

“Oh okay..well I’m ready to go whenever you want to go take some photos” he told you, offering you his typical Lando smile. You smiled, leaning up to kiss his lips “I can be ready in a few minutes” you told him once you pulled away. 

Then moved around him, being sure he couldn’t see what was behind your back before leaving the room, walking to Kika’s. You knocked on the door, she answered almost immediately  “You’re my lifesaver. I owe you” she told you once you handed her the tampons. 

“Really glad you said that, I need you to get me something from the store whenever you go” you told her biting your bottom lip, something you did when you were nervous 

“What’s up?” she asked 

“Can you get me a couple pregnancy tests” you whispered, not wanting anyone to hear. Kika’s eyes grew in size “Woah, really?” she confirmed, you just nodded, not saying anything. 

“Yeah of course. Want me to leave them in your suitcase while you’re out?” she offered 

“That’d be great. Thank you” you told her 

“Do you really think you’re” she started before gesturing to your stomach instead of saying the word 

“Honestly I’m not too sure, it didn’t cross my mind until moments ago when I realized I missed my period” you explained, she nodded along 

“Well you aren’t alone regardless of the results. We’re all here for you” she reassured you, you smiled at her words. 

“Thanks Kika, I appreciate that” you told her “Anyways I should go and get ready, Lan and I are going to take some photos around the area, I’ll see you later” you told her offering her a goodbye before walking back to yours and Lando’s room. 

You quickly changed into something clean, washed your face, tied your hair into a high ponytail and then slipped on your converse to go meet Lando downstairs. 

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-

You and Lando ended up having an awesome time. You walked around and took plenty of photos. Yours were of the area, some of the locals, some of Lando, a good variety meanwhile Lando’s were mostly of you. 

He called you his muse the first time you asked him why he took so many pictures of you but by now you had grown used to it and didn’t question it. 

In the midst of walking around, you had grabbed a quick bite to eat at a cute cafe. You went with a fruit parfait and water, figuring it was the safest option not wanting to risk being sick. 

After being out for a couple hours, you eventually made your way back to the villa. When you got back, you got a text from Kika after passing her in the kitchen. 

Kika: ‘They’re in your suitcase, under a pile of bathing suits’ 

You quickly texted her back 

Y/N: ‘Thank you. Now I owe you’ 

Kika: ‘If you end up having a girl, name her Francisca 😌’

You laughed, not answering her but rather hearting the message then going to find the tests. 

When you walked into your room, you heard Lando in the washroom, so you checked your suitcase to double check where they were and then once you had confirmation, covered them back up. 

You had plans with everyone to go out tonight so you wouldn’t be able to test until tomorrow. You weren’t sure how you were gonna avoid drinking tonight. 

It’s not as if you were a heavy drinker, you just enjoyed doing shots while you were out and you could handle your alcohol well so nights out never phased you. 

Tonight however to be cautious incase you were pregnant you had to avoid alcohol. 

You sighed, so far this trip you had spent more time stressed out then relaxed and you weren’t sure how much more you could handle before you exploded from the uncertainty. 

You heard Lando finishing in the washroom so you quickly grabbed an outfit from your suitcase before shutting it. 

“I thought you were gonna join me in the shower” Lando said when he walked out, his curls wet from the water

“Sorry my love, I took too long trying to figure out what to wear” you lied, offering him a soft smile 

“It’s okay, I can think of a couple ways you can make it up to me” he winked at you, you blushed. 

“Your cheeky” you told him smiling as he laughed at your comment. 

You quickly got yourself ready and then you made your way downstairs with Lando to meet everyone else. Once everyone was ready to go, you made your way to the local club. 

On the way, Kika linked her arm with yours and walked a bit up from the boys. 

“Did you test?” She asked in a low tone, you subtly shook your head 

“I need your help tonight avoiding alcohol” you replied keeping your voice low 

She nodded “Don’t worry, we’ll get you a mocktail at the bar and you can either sip on it through the evening or keep going back for the same one. Then with shots, we’ll tell the bartender to give you water” she explained still keeping her voice low, you offered her a small smile 

“I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here. You and Lily have both been the best” you exclaimed, Kika just smiled and gave you a side hug 

“That’s what friends do” she told you.

-

Once you got to the club, Kika went to get your drinks and made sure to tell the bartender the plan. The bartender was a female and without even having to explain why, somehow she understood and told Kika to always give you the shot with a rounder base. 

So far everything had been going smoothly and once people became more intoxicated, it was easier to let loose and not keep up the show as much as you had been. 

Surprisingly you were having a great time sober, just getting to dance with everyone and enjoy being with your friends, this was exactly what you needed and it took your mind off what you had to do tomorrow. 

Currently you were dancing with Lando, his hands were on your waist and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. It didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. 

“Babyyyyy” he said into your ear due to the loud music 

“Yes Lan?” You asked laughing at your boyfriends behaviour 

“I love youuu” he told you stretching out the you. You smiled at him 

“I know. I love you too” you told him running a hand through his curls, he closed his eyes enjoying the feeling 

“Can we go back to our place, I just want to be alone with you” he told you, pulling you closer and nuzzling his face in your neck, breathing in your perfume.

“What about our friends?” You asked him, even though you knew they’d be fine and you wouldn’t mind alone time with Lando

“They’ll be fine” he said as he started kissing your neck, you shuddered a bit at the sensation. 

“Don’t start doing that here or we won’t be able to stop” you told him even though you didn’t want him to stop 

“I don’t want to stop” he said pulling his lips away to answer you before leaning down and kissing you. 

You felt yourself getting weaker in the knees. This was the effect Lando had on you. 

“Okay fine, let’s leave then” you said in between breaths, he smiled and then grabbed your hand, intertwining his with yours and carefully made his way to the door. 

“Where are you going?” Kika asked as you passed her and Pierre 

“Back to the Villa. See you later, stay safe” you told her quickly offering a wave over your shoulder 

She chuckled “Children having a child” she muttered under her breath 

“What did you just say?” Pierre asked his girlfriend 

Kika didn’t think he had heard with the music “Nothing” she quickly said 

“No I swear you said” he started but she stopped him before he could finish. 

“Pierre just drop it for now. Please” she asked. The look they shared said enough. He nodded and then they went back to dancing. 

She hoped he wouldn’t say anything further on the topic, her boyfriend had a tendency to spread gossip even if it wasn’t always intentional but hopefully this time, he’d keep it to himself. 

Back at the Villa, you and Lando were having a great time and took advantage of the empty house, getting to be loud as you pleased. If you weren’t already pregnant, there’s a good possibility after tonight, you might’ve been. 

-

Moments Before Finding Out

The next morning, you woke up wrapped in the duvet and Lando. You smiled at how peaceful he looked. Then you remembered what you had to do and suddenly you felt the nerves creep back up on you. 

You sighed and carefully got out of bed, being sure not to wake Lando. Thankfully he was a heavy sleeper when he had been drinking. 

You crept over to your suitcase, finding the pregnancy tests and taking them to the washroom. You had googled that testing in the morning was the best time so that’s what you were doing. 

You locked the door and then opened the first box. Taking the test and sitting on the toilet. You quickly peed on the stick and then placed it back on the counter, on top of a piece of toilet paper. You finished up and then pulled your sleep shorts back up and set the timer on your phone. Sitting on the edge of the toilet. 

You closed your eyes trying your best to keep your breathing steady. Everything would be fine. Lando loved you and even if this was unexpected, he wouldn’t leave you, at least you didn’t think he would, he wasn’t like that. You did some more deep breaths until your timer went off and you quickly silenced it not wanting to wake up Lando. 

You shakily stood up from the toilet and with your shaking hands, reached for the test and that’s when you saw, the two lines looking up at you, indicating you were pregnant.

-

After Finding Out

After the first positive, you had to do the other 3 tests to be sure and of course those all came back positive. You put them back in one of the boxes and just stood there in shock. 

You were pregnant. You were going to be a mom and Lando was going to be a dad. You wanted to cry but you also knew once you started you wouldn’t be able to stop. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed in the washroom until you heard Lando call your name, you knew you had to tell him now or else you’d drive yourself mad keeping it in. 

You opened the door and made your way back to the bed. Seeing Lando sitting up rubbing his eyes, he must’ve just woken up.

“Lan, I need to tell you something” you told him biting your lip due to your nerves. He looked confused 

“Is everything okay? Did something happen?” He asked as you made your way to sit next to him. You sat with your feet tucked under you 

You reached for his hand “Nothing happened” you reassured him then took a deep breath before continuing

“I’m pregnant” you told him trying to keep your voice steady and calm not wanting to show your nerves, already knowing Lando would have plenty of his own. 

“Sorry but I think I heard you incorrectly; did you say pregnant?” He asked rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. 

You nodded your head, not sure what was going through his mind at the moment. You sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime, the longer the more nervous you got. 

Lan was never speechless and this scared you “Lan please say something” you said, feeling yourself wanting to cry even more now 

He must’ve sensed you were on the verge of tears “Baby I'm sorry, come here” he said opening his arms which you gladly accepted and buried your head in his chest, the tears finally leaving. 

“It’s unexpected but it’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out together” he said rubbing your back “I love you and there’s no one else I’d want to have children with, I just thought it’d be a bit further down the road but this is okay. Baby’s are a good thing regardless of when they come” he told you. 

You pulled away, wiping your eyes “So you aren’t gonna leave?” You asked as you hiccuped 

“Not a chance. You’re stuck with me for life now” he told you smiling. You returned the smile finally feeling better. 

You and Lando spent the rest of the morning cuddled up, talking about your baby, what you thought they’d look like, how they’d act, if they were a boy or a girl. 

At some point you must’ve started to drift off cause you found yourself cuddled up next to Lando as he played with your hair, subconsciously your hand found its place on your stomach and Lando kissed your head. 

He loved you and would do anything for you and now that meant your baby as well. The two of you were his world and he planned on spending the rest of his life making sure you both knew how much he loved you both. 

-

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AH! I hope you all enjoyed this <3 I had such a fun time writing it and I'm proud of how it turned out! Im always open to feedback so please share your thoughts !

[honeydazai]

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬  sharing a bed with them 𓏸

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma

content: pre-relationship bed sharing, flirty/mildly sexual implications

It's truly unfortunate that, while on a mission for the Agency, you have to share a bed with DAZAI — or so you think, at least. He doesn't share the sentiment in the slightest, instead smiling as innocently as possible the moment his gaze falls onto the single bed in the hotel room booked for the night. While he pretends to offer you the bed, he'll guilt-trip you about the couch being way too short for his long legs and about his back already aching until, eventually, you give in and share it with him.

Naturally, he gets into your space more than necessary at night, pretending he's asleep while cuddling close to you, given how, then, you can't cuss him out for wrapping an arm around your waist and burying his face in your neck, breath warm against your throat. It's worse that he knows if you won't get any amount of sleep whatsoever, much too busy with fighting off arousal while he's pressed flush against your back.

“Hm? No, it's alright. I don't mind taking the couch. What kind of man would I be if I let you sleep on there? Still, it's just — it's way too short and hard. Couches this uncomfortable shouldn't exist, really. I doubt I'll be able to get even a wink of sleep tonight, what a shame.”

When there turns out to only be one bed in the hotel room you're supposed to stay in for the night, CHŪYA doesn't even hesitate before offering you the bed, immediately going for the couch instead. He won't accept any protests either; no matter whether you're worried about his comfort or just think it's polite to refuse his offer, he won't allow you to spend the night on a sofa. He's not making a huge deal out of it and, if you keep being annoying about it, he gets more and more exhausted by the minute.

Eventually, he might give in to the idea of sharing the bed. He has no trouble keeping to himself — or so he believes, because, once he's actually asleep, softly snoring into your ear, he's moving wildly, one leg eventually thrown over your body, arms stretched out. If you mention it to him in the morning, his cheeks flush soft pink.

“Hm? The fuck you mean, you'll be taking the sofa? Definitely not. I'm already here — and I don't mind. Go lie down and get some sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow.”

RANPO, the very moment he steps foot into the room, decides he wants the bed to himself. The idea of taking the couch doesn't even cross his mind; instead, he makes his way over to the bed all too quickly, though, when you end up either glaring at him or asking him to share, he just shrugs.

Really, he doesn't make too big of a deal out of sharing a bed, not even seeming a little nervous at the idea of lying down beside you for hours on end. Meanwhile, at night, he cuddles up close to you — actually asleep, unlike a certain someone —, arms wrapped around you, for once completely unaware of you being all flustered because of him. In the morning, it'll be like nothing happened, even though you can't quite stop thinking about

“What are you looking at me like that for? I said we can share. If you're hoping to have it for yourself, tough luck. I was here first, just saying. Just get in or move to the couch already, I'm tired.”

All of FYODOR'S decisions are based on logic; this one is no exception. If the bed is large enough to fit two people, it's large enough for the two of you to share — though, if you feel like taking the couch instead, he won't protest. That's your decision to make, after all.

While actually sharing the bed with him, it's basically like you're alone in there, anyway. He doesn't move when asleep, doesn't make a sound; it's all too easy to imagine he's not even there, even though, occasionally, a dark strand of hair might brush against your face. What you don't know, however, is that he, at night, while you're fast asleep, he takes the time to watch you up close, lilac eyes tracing over every plane of your face.

“I do not mind sharing the bed with you. I hope you feel similarly. We both are adults, are we not? I doubt this will be an issue. Just lie down.”

NIKOLAI is undoubtedly amused by the idea of sharing a bed with you. He doesn't waste a single thought towards either of you taking the sofa instead; nonsense, just why would you do that? There's a perfectly fine bed right there, and surely both of you are mature enough to share one without any issues, right? Wrong.

He makes a point of being as obnoxious as possible, cuddling close to you the very second you lie down. It doesn't help that he's both tall and strong, his arms closed around your waist so you can't even try to get away or up, and he makes a point of whining whenever you attempt to squirm away. It's going to be a long night.

“What's the matter? Why are you moving so much? Stop it, I won't be able to fall asleep this way. Or — ah, are you trying to rile me up on purpose? That's naughty of you, sweetheart.”

SIGMA immediately makes a beeline for the couch the second he notices the dilemma of having a double bed rather than two separate ones booked. He won't even discuss the topic with you; he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable or forced to sleep on a sofa, so he'll do it instead. There's no whining or guilt tripping from his end; he simply accepts his fate for the night. There's worse things to endure.

If you're incredibly serious about convincing him, however, he might just give in, even though his cheeks feel a little warmer than usual when he lies down next to you, making sure there's an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you. If there's anything he doesn't want, it's you thinking he's trying to be creepy after you've decided to trust him — he probably ends up barely getting any sleep, just because he's worried about accidentally getting too close to you.

“Are you sure you're alright with this? I really don't mind spending the night on the sofa instead. ... Well, if you're sure — thank you.”

NEW POST AGAIN FINALLY AA my commissions are open, by the way!! dm me if interested! 💜

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[andillneverbethesame]

Its nice to have a friend with james and ravenclaw!reader pls 🙏

love this! thank u for the request <3

it's nice to have a friend

❥ james potter x ravenclaw fem reader, remus lupin x sirius black

❥ summary; you and james swear you two are only friends. except you're not.

❥ warnings; none really.just not reread for gramatical mistakes

❥ a/n: this is very shorttt sorryy

my ts masterlist pt 1, pt 2

“alright, class," professor sinitra said at the end of the astronomy lesson. "that's the end for today. i'll see you all next week. and don't forget your essays about your birth planet!”

“finally,” you sighed in relief. “i am so exhausted.” you hated these friday astronomy lessons at midnight. but you were grateful you didn't need to be up early the next day.

“me too,” pandora yawned. she looked as if she was already half asleep. everyone seemed to be. except james potter, who was now making his way to you with an energetic smile on his face.

“hello, y/n," he grinned and you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat.

“hello, jamie.”

“can i walk you to ravenclaw tower?” he asked you and you raised your eyebrow. “it's not safe for a pretty girl like you to walk around the castle at night.”

“i won't be alone,” you replied. “i got pando—” you turned around to your friend who was next to you just five seconds ago. however, she was nowhere to be seen then. “or no. . . well, then i guess you can walk me.”

on the way, you notice james walked unusually slow. he always walked so fast that you almost had to run to catch up with him but this evening, it seemed as if you were faster than him. as if he wanted to make this walk last as long as possible.

you smiled as you shook your head at the ridiculous thought. you and james were only friends. you've always been just that.

“do you wanna hang out tomorrow at hogsmeade?” james suddenly asked.

you glanced at him. “what about the boys?”

“well, sirius and remus are having a date and peter still feels sick. it would be just the two of us. we could go to honey dukes and get the strawberry chocolate you like so much. and then we could stop at madam puddifoot's and get some tea and cake,” he offered. it almost sounded like a date. you cursed yourself again for the thought.

“you hate madam puddifoot's,” you pointed out the flaw in his plan.

“but you like her jasmine tea,” james said. and i like you, he wanted to add. “come on, it's my treat.”

you rolled your eyes. “you don't need to pay me for hanging out with you, jamie. i'd love to spend time with you in hogsmeade. it'll be fun."

james waited at you in front of the ravenclaw tower at ten in the morning sharp, just like he promised.

despite the fact that it was not a date and just two friends hanging out, you spend quite some time getting ready, wanting it to be perfect.

pandora teased you from her spot on her bed as she watched you chosing between two outfits — dark blue sweatshirt with black skirt and black sweatshirt with white skirt (you chose the second option in the end). you could only roll your eyes and deny every single one of her accusations but you both knew very well what was the truth.

james was wearing his gryffindor sweatshirt and opted to pair it with black pants. his hair was a mess, as always, looking like he had just gotten out of the bed without even trying to style it. he complained about it often but you thought it suited him well.

“ready?" he asked with his hands in his pockets, a smile lighting up his face.

“ready.” you nodded.

“where do you wanna go first?” james questioned as you two entered the village. a lot of people were there every day, but especially today when almost five hundred of hogwarts students decided to spend the day there.

“i'd really love to get the tea at madam puddifoot's now,” you answered honestly. “i'm feeling rather cold and need to warm up,” you blew warm breath on your hands and rubbed them together, hoping for at least temporally feeling of warmth. but it was no use. you almost couldn't feel your fingers anymore.

“why didn't you take gloves with you?” james asked.

“i lost them,” you replied with a pout on your lips. james then took off his pair of black gloves from his hands and handed them to you. “i— but. . what about you?”

he waved it off. “don't worry. i'll be fine.”

“are you sure?”

he nodded and you could tell he really meant it.

you two ended up at three broomsticks for a late lunch. despite each of you eating a piece of cake, a chocolate bar and shared a packet of sour candies, you two found yourselves quite hungry after all the walking.

madam rosmerta greeted you as soon as you walked in (though she was mainly talking to james, who ordered two butterbeers and then winked at her) and you chose a table by the window.

“what would you like?” james asked. “it's on me.”

you gave him a look. “i am not completely broke, y'know? you paid enough for me today. let me pay for you once, too.”

“not happening,” was james's immediate response as he shook his head. “i am a gentleman.”

“i never said you weren't,” you laughed. “but you can't pay for me all the time. i'm not your girlfriend.”

that seemed to shut him up as he couldn't think of anything else to say. at that moment, rosmerta came to your table with butterbeers and asked what would you like to have for your meal.

“i'll have shephard's pie," you spoke.

“beef pasties for me. thank you, rosmerta,” james smiled.

“thank you for today, jamie,” you said once the woman walked away. “i really needed this. i've been so stressful with everything that's going on.”

the boy knew exactly what you were talking about. attacks on muggles and muggleborn wizards and witches have been more and more frequent this year. a lot of your friends were muggleborns, and so was your dad. you prayed every day, begging whoever was up there to not let anything happen to those you loved.

james nodded understandingly. he, too, was worried for the future of the wizarding world. and he knew that he will be joining the order of the phoenix as soon as he could, and he'd be fighting for the good side as hard as he could.

his hand reached across the table for yours, squeezing it lightly for some kind of comfort to give you. you smiled sadly at him and sweets his hand back.

“yeah, me too. i'm sure everything will be okay,” he tried to reassure you. but you both weren't so sure. you weren't going to ruin this moment, though.

“thank you. it's nice to have a friend like you,” you said and james nodded.

yeah, he thought. a friend.

from across the room, remus and sirius, although they were on their own date, were watching you two with an immense interest.

“remus, he touched her hand!” sirius whisper-yelled at his boyfriend and hit him lightly as if he was trying to catch his attention as if remus wasn't spying on you two either. “he touched her hand!”

“yes, sirius, i'm not blind!” remus replied.

“come on, kiss!” the dark-haired boy began to pray. “i'm tired of them tiptoeing around each other like that.”

remus raised an eyebrow as he looked at sirius. “you did the same with me.”

“shut up.”

a month later, it was valentine's day and you had no one to spend it with.

all of your friends were going on a date with their partners or potential partners, but you were in bed with book.in your hands and a cup of tea on your bedside table. no one was in your dorm, leaving you completely interrupted to get lost in the story.

that was until there was a knock on your door.

you groaned. the words on the pages seemed to be getting rather. . . interesting.

"who is it?"

"your favourite boy in the whole world." was the answer and you quickly sat up and fixed your appearance. you'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"come in!" the door opened, revealing james in a black suit and a big boquet of flowers in his hand. your mouth opened at his look. he looked really attractive, don't get me wrong, but you couldn't understand why was he dressed like that. "what's going on?"

"well, dear y/n, me and you are going on a date, that's what's going on."

"on a date?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. "as. . . friends?"

james shook his head. "no, not as friends. we're more than that." he didn't give you a time to say anything before he continued with, "get ready. i'll wait in the common room."

you blinked in confusion as you watched him close the door and then you squealed once you were sure he was far enough to not hear you.

[de4dlyniightshade]

munch! spencer, reader with migraine, spencer reads something about how orgasms can help with pain

꩜ warning!: this post is +18!!! mdni!

꩜ word count: 1.6k (got a little carried away;-;)

꩜ A/N: honestly i don't rlly like this but hopefully it's good enough :,)

You let out a quiet groan in pain as you squinted your eyes at the tv, trying to watch your favourite show but the light from the screen only made your throbbing headache worse, to the point it was almost unbearable.

"Another migraine?" Spencer asked quietly from the other end of the sofa as he looked up from his book, keeping his voice low so as to not make it any worse. You just nodded, holding your head in your hand and letting your eyes close, feeling slight relief from the light no longer beaming into your eyes.

You didn't get migraines all that often but when you did they could be pretty bad and Spencer hated seeing you in pain and hated the fact that there was nothing he could do to fix it even more, or so he thought. He'd spent hours researching ways to alleviate your pain after your last migraine, which got so bad that it practically debilitated you and you couldn't do anything but sit in a darkened room for hours until it passed.

After reading countless articles and blogs a unanimous opinion was that an orgasm relieves a large amount of the pain, one woman going as far to say that hers was completely gone afterwards. Honestly the remedy was a complete win-win, he'd be able to help you and make you feel better and he'd also get to do his absolute favourite thing at the same time, which just so happened to be eating you out.

"Do you want me to help?" Spencer suggested, laying his book down on your coffee table and turning to face you, a slightly excited feeling bubbling in his chest.

"Remember nothing worked last time, Spence" you murmured, sighing at the realisation that you'd probably end up back in your bedroom, cocooned under blankets for your unforeseeable future. You felt Spencer shift closer to you and you could practically feel the excitement radiating from him, knowing that meant he'd found some scientific way to help you and wanted to try it.

"I researched a lot about migraines and how to help you since the last one and the method that came up almost every time was that a sexual release would alleviate a large amount of the pain and i was thinking maybe..." he didn't even have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was thinking, as soon as he uttered the word "sexual" you knew what he had in mind.

"You seriously think it'll work?" Your tone was hopeful and you were prepared to try anything at this point, feeling your pain slowly worsen the more time went on. you'd tried almost every other remedy you'd been suggested by friends and nothing had worked even a little and painkillers did nothing for you no matter how many you took.

"It's worth a try," Spencer smiled, resting his hand on your lower back. you knew he wasn't just doing this for himself, it was just convenient that he loved nothing more than to be buried between your legs.

"Alright, but if this doesn't work I'm not gonna be happy" you were only half serious, you were happy to let Spencer run his little experiment, considering that if it did work, you'd both not have a migraine anymore and would have had an incredible orgasm, so either way, you got something out of the experience.

You watched as Spencer moved to turn off the TV, leaving just a lamp on so that it was light enough that he could still see but dark enough that it wouldn't hurt your head so much.

You quickly hooked your fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pants, lifting your hips to tug them down over your ass and slide them down your legs, kicking them to the side to deal with later as Spencer moved to eagerly kneel in front of you, placing his hands behind your knees and leaning down to press a chaste kiss just above your left knee.

You smiled as you slowly spread your legs apart, watching Spencer's eyes glint with anticipation. You already knew the drill—moving to place your legs over his shoulders the way he liked it and shifting forward on the sofa to give him better access.

Spencer didn't waste any time with teasing, reminding himself that this wasn't for him, no matter how much he enjoyed it; this was an attempt to alleviate your pain.

You let out a sigh as you felt his warm tongue lick a bold stripe up your folds before he circled your clit, moaning quietly at your taste that he'd grown to love so much.

You tangled your fingers in his hair as he buried his face deeper into you, urging your thighs apart to lap at your pussy, your quiet whines and moans egging him on as he took your clit into his mouth, sucking and licking at your sensitive nub, the stimulation making you twitch and grip his hair tighter, rolling your hips into his face as you let your head fall back against the couch.

Spencer wrapped his hands around your thighs as he nuzzled his face into you, making sure to get as close as possible to you so that he could dip his tongue into your entrance. The feeling of his warm, wet tongue pushing into you causing you to arch your back, a loud gasp falling from your lips, your migraine long forgotten.

"F-fuck spence," you whined as you tugged on his hair desperately, letting yourself grind into his mouth. Spencer continued his ministrations on your sensitive cunt, drinking in everything you had to give him with pleasure as he whined into your wantonly.

You felt Spencer push one of your legs to the side, and instantly you got the message, lifting your leg to sling it over the arm of the couch to give him access. You couldn't help but gasp when you felt his middle and index fingers prod at your entrance, teasing your hole briefly before he began slowly sliding them in. The copious amount of saliva and your arousal making it easy.

"Oh, f-fuck!" you moaned out as you felt his fingertips curl right into your g-spot, the mixture of his mouth on your clit and his fingers pressing right into that spot that made your toes curl, making your mind go completely blank as you whimpered and moaned, his name falling from your lips in breathy gasps.

Spencer began massaging his fingers into your g-spot, drawing needy moans from your lips as he brought you closer to your release, revelling in the way you moaned his name and the way that your walls clenched around his fingers.

You got completely lost in the pleasure as you rutted your hips into his face, gripping his hair harshly and pushing his face into you. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach tighten as you squirmed and shuddered, the feeling of Spencer's fingers nonstop stimulating your sensitive spot making you a needy mess.

"C-close! 'm close, Spence." Your voice was high-pitched and whiny as you warned him, Spencer only pushing his fingers harder into you, the action pulling a loud moan from your throat as your body began to shake and tremble.

You couldn't help but sling your leg back over Spencer's shoulder, letting your thighs clench around his head as you felt your orgasm approaching. Spencer's tongue never letting up his brutal sucking and licking on your clit, sending shockwaves through your body.

Spencer began moaning and whining into you, the sounds sending vibrations through your sensitive cunt and making you cry out in pleasure as your breath came out in gasps and huffs, your whole body tending as you felt your release dangerously close.

"G-god spence, I'm gonna c-cum!" You practically wailed with no regard for how loud you were being, letting out a constant slew of desperate noises when Spencer massaged your soft spot more precisely, coaxing you to your release as he sucked harshly on your clit.

Spencer let out an especially loud moan as you tugged on his hair, the intense vibrations sending you over the edge as your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, your whole body shaking and writhing as your release gushed around Spencer's fingers that continued to curl into you, coaxing you through your orgasm while he gently licked at your clit.

You were breathing heavily and still shaking slightly when Spencer slowly pulled his fingers from your sopping cunt, wincing slightly as his skin dragged against your sensitive walls. You watched as he buried his fingers in his mouth, cleaning off your release like he always did, sighing at the taste before he pulled them out and leaned back in, dipping his tongue into your slit to lap up everything he could, not daring to waste any of it.

Spencer leaned his cheek on your knee when he was satisfied, looking up at you through his lashes as you lay completely fucked out with your eyes closed, a beautifully content expression on your face.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly, watching as you cracked your eyes open and furrowed your brows, scanning around the room and sitting up slightly, a smile spreading across your lips as you looked back down at him.

"I feel...great?!" You laughed slightly, completely fascinated by the effectiveness but also relieved that you'd found something that worked, both for you and for him. Spencer couldn't hide the wide smile that adorned his lips. He was overjoyed that his method worked as he pressed gentle kisses up your leg before he situated himself beside you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and sighing.

"i'm glad" 

(dookie ass ending again ik</3 i need to work on that :,)

[bratphilia]

taboo (w. afton x reader)

note: eeee its here its finally here.

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: age gap (reader is college age 18-21 and william is 45-50), step-father!william/steve, creepy behavior from william, smoking, masturbation, absolutely cliche plot, daddy kink, vibrators, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, rough sex

your mom left for the weekend to go on a small trip with her girlfriends. leaving you with him.

him being your weird, undeniably hot step-dad, steve. weird in the sense that he seemed to be out of touch with reality sometimes, erratic, and impulsive. you never quite understood how your mom stands him, but you can definitely get it looks-wise.

it's friday when your mom leaves, coincidentally the same time you had class, until around 7pm. you come back home around 7:30 to the smell of pizza. there's a box of it sitting on the island.

"steve?" you call out.

"oh, hey!" he says, he's watching tv with a beer in hand as he turns his head around to face you. "how was class? i took the liberty of ordering out."

you grab a paper plate left next to the box. "it was fine, boring lecture, though. thanks, by the way."

"no problem, kid."

kid. ugh, reality slapped you in the face. he's just not into you.

you sit on the opposite end of the couch, watching tv while eating your slice. you notice steve's leg bouncing up and down, clearly agitated or anxious about something. you decide not to say anything.

then, "hey, mind if i go out and have a cigarette?" he asks, already getting up to find his carton of cigarettes in one of the cabinets.

"oh, not at all..." you mumble mindlessly, not thinking much about it.

then he stops halfway from the glass sliding door. "wanna come with me?"

your brow furrows as you look up at him. "sure?"

he laughs a little. "c'mon, we can share it."

you gulp. you've never had a cigarette before. gingerly, you get up and follow him out the door. the backyard patio is a nice setup. there are two metal chairs with a table in between and the both of you sit across from each other.

you watch him as he lights the end of a cigarette and holds it between his pointer and middle finger while he inhales. he looks at you when he exhales with a look of amusement and you realize that you've been staring.

"nervous?" he asks.

"yeah, a little," you say truthfully.

"it'll be fine, just take it slow, alright?" he tells you, passing it over. your fingers brush slightly against his.

you look down at the cigarette, then bring it to your lips and inhale. the smoke is harsh and alien-feeling on your throat. then you feel overcome with an admittedly pleasurable buzz all over your body. it's strong enough that you can't feel your lips, and you don't trust your ability to speak either. you pull it out of your mouth and exhale, watching a cloud of smoke blow from your lips.

steve laughs. you must look visibly shaken. it takes everything in you not to cough, so you clear your throat quietly.

"like it?" he asks.

"y-yeah," you answer in a small, broken voice.

"i'm willing to share with you this weekend, but you absolutely cannot tell your mother. got it?" he says rather sternly. you nod in response.

the two of you finish the cigarette, passing it back and forth after your respective hits. he takes the deflated stick and throws it in a bush. "i'm going to head off to bed. goodnight."

"okay, goodnight," you call, following suit.

in the safe darkness of your room, you cover your mouth as you rub your clit with one pinching your nipple. you think about steve's hands doing this to you. in fact, you think about that a lot.

you think about his beard scratching against your soft skin. his scent, cheap cologne and cigarettes. you think about what he tastes like, the aftermath of smoking and a taste that's just exclusive to him.

you come thinking about it.

on saturday morning, you decide to take a bath to calm you down from how he had you all riled you up last night. you can't stop thinking about it, though. the small touch of your fingers brushing against his has you craving more.

"you absolutely cannot tell your mother. got it?" fuck.

your hand itches to touch yourself. you try to snap out of it by playing music from your phone, but nothing helps. at this point, you should just get out. there's no point anymore.

once the water is drained and you're out of the bathtub, your heart sinks.

there's no towels left.

fuck my life, you think. you quietly open the door and try to go unnoticed as you slip away into the laundry room, leaving puddles of water in your wake.

to make matters even worse, steve is there, seemingly repairing the washing machine while muttering curses to himself. you forgot he has a bachelor's in engineering. what do you even do in the situation?

"uhm," ask in a small voice, "are there... any towels i can use?"

"yeah, there should be some..." he trails off when he looks at you, then clears his throat, "...in the dryer."

steve drinks in your appearance. your young body is nothing compared to anything he's seen before, and it goes straight to his cock. he tries his best not to rake his eyes up and down your body, but you're from a distance that he can see your breasts when he looks you in the eye.

"here, i'll get one for you," he mutters, feeling very much like a creepy old man, and begrudgingly pulls his attention away from you and opens the dryer.

he stands to full height and walks towards you impossibly slow. you look up at him with a quivering lip. god, you're gorgeous, he thinks. he hands you the towel and pretends to get back to what he's doing.

while you're walking away, you can't help feel like you're being watched. and you're right, by the way. your whole body shivers.

you avoid steve the rest of the day, absolutely mortified.

on sunday, you're losing your fucking mind.

your personal vibrator sits between your legs and you're practically sobbing into your pillow. you've come at least three times so far. you just can't stop thinking about steve, and it almost hurts. not just from the overstimulation, but how wrong it is to feel this way about him.

you can feel the wet spot on your bed, from inside you and your own sweat. with an uncontrollably loud "ughhh" you come again for the fourth time. the door, thank god, is closed in the hopes that someone won't disturb you.

the noise of your vibrator and the noises you're making drowns out the sound of a knock on your door.

"just as i thought," steve says smugly.

you throw the pillow away from your face to reveal him standing in the doorway. your first instinct is to hide the vibrator in the sheet and cross your legs.

"uh-uh, don't do that," he says coldly, making his way towards you swiftly and sitting on the bed next to your legs.

he reaches over your body and snatches the vibrator and examines its wand-shaped figure intently. then he puts it in his mouth and moans at the taste, practically slurping up your juices. he pulls away muttering a "so sweet."

you feel like hiding your face back in the pillow when he looks at you. "what am i going to do with you, sweetheart?"

"please," you whisper, "i need you so bad, please."

and steve fucking laughs at you. "don't i know it."

he reaches a hand and feels the sheets, specifically the wet spots where you came multiple times. "what a mess you made," he says in mock astonishment, and he can't just be talking about the sheets.

you rub your thighs together and whimper, grabbing his attention. "can't believe you'd rather fuck yourself on this silly thing rather than just asking for what you want."

you want to roll your eyes. much easier said than done.

before you know it the vibrator springs to life with a low humming sound that makes your clit twitch. steve asks, no, commands you to "spread your fucking legs" for him. you do what he says embarrassingly instantly, but you can't find it in you to really care.

he teases you by running the vibrator up and down your slit, making your back arch. "please," you whine, drawing out the syllables of the word. 

"what do you need, precious?" he asks, cocking his head. 

you can barely speak. you grasp around his wrist trying to move his hand up north to your clit but his strength is unmatched. "gonna have to tell me what you want, beautiful. i can't read your mind." 

his pace and placement is set purposefully to tease you, to keep you on the edge waiting for what you want. you're too embarrassed to vocalize it.

"tell me, baby, i know what you want." 

you run your tongue across your lip. "need it on my clit, please." 

"yeah?" he uses his free hand to pull back the hold protecting your clit and moves the vibrator upwards so it hits on the sensitive nerves. "need it right here?"

"daddy! yes — ah!" you cry out in agony. it comes out before you can think twice. you've always refused to refer to him as "dad."

steve flashes you a wolfish grin. "oh, so now i'm your daddy, huh? wonder what changed." 

he moves the vibrator in tight circles. you moan out helplessly, gripping the sheets so hard that the threads might pull loose. and before you know it, you're squirting on his hand, the sheets, and even a little on his pants and shirt. 

"filthy thing, making a mess all over daddy," he tsks but doesn't pull the vibrator away from you.

"'m sorry," you mumble. 

he keeps the vibrator at your exposed clit. "love it so much, daddy!" you cry out drunkly. 

"yeah? love it so much?" he mocks your high pitched voice, pressing the vibrator impossibly hard against your clit and keeping it still there.

you're coming again, juices leaking out of your pussy. you thrash your head around when he doesn't let up. "daddy, please stop."

you try closing your legs around the vibrator and tugging at his wrist again but he simply opens your legs back up with those big hands. he decides you've had enough torture after another orgasm and turns off the vibrator, discarding it along with his clothes. 

steve climbs on the bed on his knees so he's placed above you. he takes both of your legs and throws them over his shoulders, plunging his cock inside you. he isn't gentle at all, nothing like you've imagined. he's fucking you roughly with reckless abandon.

"look at you, you fucking slut," he snarls at you, baring his teeth. "so horny over your step-daddy. disgusting." 

"yesss," you moan. "so horny for you, daddy."

he's chuckling breathlessly. "stupid fucking whore even knows it. isn't that right, sweetie?" 

you mumble an "mhm" that gets drawn out on a particularly hard thrust. his hips slam against your elevated ass and your arch your back, closing your eyes tightly. 

his cock is hitting a certain spot that has you moaning and crying out beyond your control. you can tell he's close as well as his thrusts are breaking their pattern. "tell me how much you want to come, baby."

"need to — ahn — come so badly, daddy!" you're surprised you can even speak at this point. 

steve places one of your legs down to free hus hand so he can rub at your clit in rough, side to side strokes. you're gone. coming with a loud "steve!"

he groans as his thrusts grow rapid for a brief moment. your body goes limp as you let him use your pussy to get off. he buries himself deep inside you and comes. spurts of his ejaculate shoot inside you and you moan, loving the feeling.

wordlessly, steve crawls on the space on the bed next to you and starts playing with your hair. you stare at the ceiling. "am i actually a slut?" you wonder out loud.

"no, honey," he sighs. "daddy just says things like that when he's riled up."

he pulls you in for an affectionate kiss, your first one together. it's slow, no tongue, but lasts long. 

"i'm going to head to the corner store and get you a plan b, then we can take a bath together when i get back. okay?" he tells you.

we. you like the sound of that. love it, even. 

"okay," you confirm, stomach fluttering at how nice he's being. 

on monday morning, you wake up to find the space next to you on your bed empty. he carried you to your room and you fell asleep on his chest after the bath. 

you walk down the stairs and two voices become audible. your mom is home. 

steve kisses her on the cheek. your blood boils and your fists clench as reality sets back in. 

[novemberheart]

{overview} Kyle and Johnny make it up to you.

{warnings} cursing, some soapxgaz, very spoiled reader, a bit sappy, you being pretty, female reader, poly 141

Chapter 5 <- Chapter 6 -> Chapter 7

“What’s got you all worked up?” Johnny hummed, sliding in right next to Kyle. Kyle scooched back a bit, chasing the warmth the Scot emitted.

“She already wants to leave.” Kyle whispered, like you would be able to hear them. Johnny curled himself tighter around Kyle, his lips brushing against the back of his neck.

“You need to get out of that head of yours.” He murmured, pressing a kiss against the base of Kyle’s neck.

“No, I’m being for real.” Kyle asserted. “I overheard her talking on the phone with- I think Kate. She thinks we’re using her.” Johnny pressed a hand against Kyle’s shoulder so his back was flat against the mattress. Johnny hovered beside him.

Johnny opened his mouth, but closed it just as quick. He went silent for a moment.

“Shite.” He growled softly, laying so he was half laying on Kyle. Looking back he couldn’t blame you. Of course you felt that way. Forced into a new pack and all they care about is their alpha. They didn’t even bother to make sure you had everything you needed. “Now I feel bad.” Johnny murmured. “Think we can make it up to her tomorrow?” Johnny questioned.

“I have a few ideas.” Kyle muttered back.

You were already awake, showered and dressed by the time there was a knock on your door. You trudged up from the floor- finally beginning to unpack your clothes. You twisted it causing the lock to pop up.

“Morning, Bon.” Johnny greeted.

“Morning.” You did your best to smile, deciding today was a new day. He sat down in the doorway, his legs crossed. You stared at him expectantly.

“How’d you sleep?” He hummed, eyeing the neat bed you had made. You had brought a blanket with you, which made him pleased that you weren’t sleeping with the coarse blankets provided by the government.

“Okay.” You answered, turning back to folding your pants.

“Just okay?” He pressed quickly. You looked away from your work, giving him a sheepish smile.

“I mean I had a bit of a hard time, but this is a new place after all.” You justified. That made his nose bunch up. He could imagine you tossing and turning in your bed, upset and maybe even scared. Out of all of them Johnny was the one that was always pressing for an omega. He would often get jealous in the cafeteria watching as other packs were surrounded by their omegas, especially the packs that didn’t deserve to have one. It was almost a pride thing with Johnny. He wanted everyone to see how good of a beta he was- how good his alphas were and how good of a pack they made. One of the clear signs of that would be a happy omega, and judging by the hint of lemons in your room- they had already failed.

“You alright?” you questioned, noticing the distant wince on Johnny’s face. He snapped himself out of it.

“Aye, Peaches. I'm alright,” he assured. “Kyle and I would like to take you out today.” his demeanor quickly changed his eyes to nervous, like was worried you would reject him. You could quickly feel hope rise in you.

“Really?” you asked, almost hesitantly. “What about Simon?” you reminded him. That was the whole reason you were here right?

“He’ll be fine. Cap, says they're going to get him up and walking today. He wouldn't want you to see him stumble around anyway.” Johnny explained.

“Alright.” you agreed. ‘Don't sound too happy’ you reprimanded yourself. “Is what I'm wearing fine?” you added.

“Might break a few necks, but it'll do.” Johnny winked down at you as he stood. “How about we go eat some breakfast, then head out.” he extended his hand to help you up and you quickly took it.

After breakfast the three of you went on the hunt for a suitable vehicle to steal for your outing. You ended up with an SUV. Johnny and Kyle both raced to open the door for you, Kyle won.

“What music do you like, Bon?” Johnny questioned, resting over the center console to fiddle with the radio.

“I listen to a bit of everything,” you responded. It was weird but sharing your favorite music sounded a bit too vulnerable after just meeting someone. “Can you tell me where we’re going now?” you pressed on. Smirks spread across their faces. Kyle's eyes flickered from the road to glance at you in the passenger seat. The excited look on your face makes him hope they won't let you down- again.

“Well, we felt bad about yesterday being your first day. So we figured today could be a do-over. Aquarium then lunch?” Kyle explained, causing you to beam even further. “Then we figured we could stop at the store and pick up anything else you might need. Snacks, shampoo”-

“Underwear,” Johnny interjected. You giggled, making Kyle rethink slamming on the brakes to make the Scot fly through the windshield.

Johnny was able to open the door for you this time. Each movement both men made seemed to be tailored to you. In the parking lot, they positioned themselves so you weren’t exposed to traffic. In line to get into the aquarium Kyle was in front of you and Johnny behind, their eyes both scanning their surroundings in a way that made you wonder what you should be looking out for.

You made your way through the aquarium, feeling like you had entered a whole other world. Kyle and Johnny took turns pointing out fish that looked like each other. (they only compared you to pretty fish).

“You've ever been to an aquarium before?” Kyle questioned, watching the way your eyes followed every flick of a tail. You pulled your eyes away, softly shaking your head.

“I'm afraid there isn't much I have done.” you sighed, turning back to the crystal water. Growing up your family didn't have much money. Not that you were ever bored. You were a fairly easy child, just enjoying spending time with your parents and taking walks. Then after that, you bounced around omega-holding houses. You quickly shook yourself out of your thoughts.

“Well, we can fix that, peaches,” Johnny smirked, nudging you gently with his arm to move you to the next tank. “We are going to have the best date nights.” he continued, watching you out of the corner of his eye. Your eyebrows rose.

“We can do things like this often?” you asked hesitantly looking between the two men.

“Hell yeah, Bon,” Johnny affirmed. “Well, when we aren't being shipped off somewhere.”

It was a realization that hit you like a bolt of lightning. You hadn't really thought about them leaving since you had arrived. You had thought a bit about it when you had first received their files, but that had always seemed so distant- so far in the future. Now your future was colliding with your present.

You chose to ignore the end of his statement and focus on the positive.

“I think these are my favorite,” you mumbled, too entranced to look away.

“Really, sweetheart? Couldn't tell.” Kyle snickered, the joke going right over your head. The two men watched you stare at the jellyfish tank going on for what was five minutes now. Not an ounce of impatience in their bones. They were too busy taking in the way your eyes were round, your pupils taking up most of the space. The blue light reflecting from your eyes adds a bit more of a twinkle than usual. Johnny had to finally break away after he spent too much time staring at your parted lips. His gaze landed on Kyle. The way he was looking at you mirrored the way you were looking at the jellyfish. He’s sure he looked the same. Kyle broke himself away quickly catching Johnny's eyes.

“We got lucky, aye?” Johnny mouthed, which Kyle agreed to without hesitation.

You were finally able to reel yourself back to reality when your stomach started to growl. Kyle looked at his watch. “Couple hours past noon. Ready for lunch?”

You were about to exit the aquarium, when something caught Johnny's eye, making him pull you into the gift shop. Kyle chuckled, following the two of you. Johnny pushed past little kids with little regard until you finally found what had caught his eye.

A row full of jellyfish plushies.

You were a bit surprised he could see them from all the way by the door.

“Which one do you like?” he beamed at you.

“I don't have any mo”-

“I'll buy. Which one?” he interjected. He looked a bit offended that you expected to buy it yourself.

Your cheeks had been stinging all day from how much you'd been smiling, and this wasn't helping. You looked through them carefully. You didn't want one that was big. A small one would be nice to cuddle with at night. You scanned through red ones, purples ones, orange ones, and rainbow ones till you finally found the perfect one for you. It was plain. A off-white color, but it was the softened fabric you had ever felt. The reason it had caught your attention was its eyes, one of them hadn't been sewn on. Yet the fluffy guy still had a little smile on its face.

“I love this one.” you smiled wickedly, pulling it from its hiding place. Johnny’s brows furrowed.

“It's missing an eye,” he said slowly like he was afraid it would break your heart.

“I know.” you hummed, curling your finger around its little tentacles. “He deserves a good home just as much as anybody,” you affirmed. The two men exhaled rather harshly. It wasn't every day they were exposed to such thoughtfulness. It was their turn to get struck by the bolt or reality. Amidst the hell they were exposed to, would there finally be a little ounce of comfort for them?

“Then let's get the lad home.” Johnny smiled.

You all ended up at a nice Italian place for lunch where you ate more than your weight in breadsticks.

After that, you ended up in a store you had never been to to pick up some essentials you might need- well according to the boys snacks were essential. They gave you no limit and actually encouraged you to pick out things. If you stared at anything- or god forbade touch it- it ended up in the cart. You ended up with two pillows, another blanket, your favorite snacks, your favorite movie, a new pack of socks, some lotion, a sweater, a few clothing items they snuck in, and finally a pair of headphones.

“This is too much really.” you started. It wasn't the first time you had insisted.

“Consider it an ‘I'm sorry’ for a shite first day yesterday,” Kyle assured. You wondered if Kate had said something to them. You doubt she would go behind your back and do something like that. Maybe they came to the realization themselves.

“You sure?” you asked. Kyle quickly nodded his head, a playful smile across his pretty face.

A part of you couldn't wait for Kate to call tonight. You almost wanted everyone you knew to call just so you could rub a little something in their face.

You just hoped you weren't getting ahead of yourself.

This chapter is pretty short, but I hope you liked it regardless! See you in two days for chapter 7! 🧡

[kill4luvina]

"Too Much!"

TattooArtist!Ony x Black!Reader

Summary : Y/N asks her boyfriend for a new tattoo under her tits, after telling her over and over again it'll hurt he finally agrees, he starts only for the exact thing he wanted to prevent happening. So, he evens out the pain by getting her a vibrator as he continues doing the tattoo on her, only to end up fucking her <3

Warning(s): SMUT, NOT PROOF READ AT ALL, Vibrator Usage, uh probably more but idk.

(Idc, Ony got cornrows here like anyway)

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"Babbyyy, Please?" You were on your knees begging to your boyfriend as you held out your phone showing him the under boob tattoo you badly wanted. "No, you gon be cryin, that shi hurt like a bitch." he'd mutter rolling his eye trying to look everywhere put your face. "B-but" you'd start sniffling and tearing up, he had spoiled you way too much, and honestly it was too late to stop. "fuck.. okay.." he'd finally give in making you jump into his arms in excitement.

The next day, you came into his privet room in the back of the tattoo shop. You were wearing a white mini crop top showing your under boobs with a short black mini skirt that barely covered your ass with pretty black Gucci Strappy Sandal Heels. You'd hug your boyfriend in excitement thanking him again for letting you have it on the house, like you always do. It was a trade actually, he'd give you free tattoo's and you'd braid his hair whenever he wanted. "I shouldn't let you pop out no where dressed like this no more.." He'd sigh noticing the pretty under ass tattoo he had done for you months ago with his name, having flashbacks to when you cried your heart out until he had fingers plunged in you to even out the feeling of pain.

"Ony! You didn't tell me it hurt this bad!!" You'd scream as soon as it made contact with your skin, instantly triggering him as his left eye twitched at the statement you made. "I didn't what?" He asked looked up at you, eyes focusing on you and ngl he looked mad asl. "You said this shit last time too!" He'd say annoyed as he ignored you for about 5 minutes until you start crying. Eyes filled with tears sobbing as you brought your hands up to try and clean your overflowing tears. "Alright, stop crying mamas, give me a second." He'd say getting up taking off his gloves as he went into his drawer bringing out a new vibrator that wasn't open yet.

"Got it just for you, i didn't think you deserved it tho." He say sitting back in his seat as he watched you trying to clean your face quickly still sniffling as your face was now a mess but you still looked so cute in his eyes. He'd open you legs as he ripped off the packaging off the vibrator resting his right hand on your pussy giving you small circles making you moan as he gave you a sloppy kiss. "Feeling better?" he's ask watch you nod your head, feeling you get completely wet at just the contact of his fingers. He'd take the vibrator and turn it on low, he had bought you a pink Rabbit Vibrator. It was basically a penetrative vibrator that offered simulation to your clit to.

He's slowly slide if in before licking his fingers and putting his gloves back on as you moaned trying your hardest not to move as your legs clamped together. "Stay still.." he's say blankly as he continued your tattoo as you didn't even know how to feel at that moment, hands holding tightly to whatever you could find. This would go on for about another 25 mintues until he'd stop as you start twitching from your second orgasm somehow. He'd take off his gloves before pulling out the now soaked vibrator putting it too the side. Standing up he'd pull down his grey nike sweat pants to reveal his erection that had been twitching between his pants since this session had started.

Not being able to hold himself back anymore he'd push himself into you making you moan loudly as you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck giving him sloppy kisses as he fucked you completely senseless as you babble telling him how much you love him. Crying when as he started leaving marks all over your neck finding you sensitive spot attacking it solely leaving you completely helpless. "Ony! Thank uuu!" You'd moan tears leaving your eyes as you came on him, twitching as squirting all over him as he came right after you.

He'd lay there for a moment giving you soft kisses as he whispered "Anytime my love.." Noticing you start to fall asleep knowing that you'd probably ask him to add onto this tattoo some other day noticing he hadn't completely finished it but it looked close enough to done.

LOL WHEN HE WENT OUT TO GET A BOTTLE OF WATER HE OPENED THE DOOR AND SAW A SMALL GROUP OF EMPLOYIES AND COSTUMERS AT THE DOOR LISTENING IN. LIKE BYE.

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