#but i still have pain and i still have discomfort and i still limp and i still feel like my kneecap is floating in a fucking soup

[fingertipsmp3]

2024 affirmation: I will not dislocate my knee

[foldingfittedsheets]

I think something a lot of other people can relate to is the way that you get so conditioned to discomfort that you stop registering it.

I remember sitting at the table with my family, eating dinner as a child. I’d try to eat, because of course I was hungry. But sometimes the flavor or texture was so repugnant that it moved into a category of Not Food.

“Two more bites before you can leave the table.”

“I can’t,” I’d say, trying to explain the impossibility.

But because I was a child they heard, “I won’t,” and made me sit at the table. I’d sit in dull agonized silence, bored and hungry for hours until bedtime when they’d give up. I’d hate myself for not eating and my parents for forcing me to sit there. The few forcefeeding moments ended in vomit.

They’d say, “If you don’t eat this you can’t eat a snack later,” and I moved past trying to communicate my discomfort into accepting that I’d just be hungry.

That state of affairs didn’t last, because my parents realized nothing could force me to eat so they catered to my palate, worrying they’d starve me. But the message stuck. If you can’t do anything about a situation, just accept the suffering.

A few years later my mother called me off the playground to ask, “Are you limping?”

I shrugged. My feet had hurt for a long time, but that was just the way things were now. My mom pulled my socks and shoes off and gasped. The soles of my feet were covered in huge painful planters warts.

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” She demanded but I could only shrug at her. I’d learned a long time ago that saying things about my discomfort didn’t matter, so now I had no words. Sometimes things hurt and sometimes they don’t. I simply accepted and did my best.

Now as an adult trying to learn to improve my own conditions can be hard. If I make food that I can’t eat I’ll force myself to sit at the counter still, full of guilt and self loathing, trying to will myself to eat it.

At first I needed my betrothed to gently take it away to present me with something I could eat. Now on my own I can usually admit that it’s not happening before too long and get something else, but I still feel guilty.

Laying in bed at night waiting for my betrothed to finish getting ready I let out a huge sigh of relief when they turned the lights off.

“Why didn’t you turn them off if they bothered you?” they asked the first time it happened.

“I didn’t even know it was bothering me until it was gone.”

Assessing my physical state now to see if I can improve it is something I’m still relearning but I’m relieved to finally have the space and support to do it.

[celestiamour]

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ giving you a piggyback ride after a date┊0.4k words

contains: fluff, established relationship, mentioned age gap & size difference

➤ author's note: a little short one before i finish the longer ones ^^

he’s gonna huff about how he told you to wear comfortable shoes and will roll his eyes when you insist that the heels you chose match better with your outfit, but he secretly loves it when you climb on his back and allow him to carry you home. maybe you’ll tease him about being unenthusiastic because you’ll hurt his back like the old man he is, giggling in surprise when he bounces you up a few times acting like he’ll throw you off if you misbehave.  

with your strappy black heels in one hand and his barefoot lover on top of him, he’ll attract quite a few looks walking down the street (or at least, more than usual since it’s difficult not to notice him). it gives him a strange sort of pride. he frequently questions if he’s doing enough as your boyfriend when he struggles to express himself and has a long history of trauma that still hasn’t been fully exposed to keep you safe from the horror, but he knows for a fact that he’s doing this correctly, making sure that you don’t need to walk down the street limping from pain and discomfort and being strong enough to have you rest in his grasp. 

if you weren’t blabbering on about whatever topic occupying your mind (he only grunts in response, but trust me that he’s listening to every word), fiddling with his swoopy hair tufts, and placing a gentle kiss anywhere that your lips could reach, he could have forgotten you were there since he barely feels your weight on him. perks of having an adamantium skeleton and being ripped as hell, but he does need to check in on you every now and then to ensure that you haven’t fallen off or something (it has happened once and he still hasn’t forgiven himself since then).

sure, he kinda looked like a scary guard dog with his rugged appearance, towering bulky frame, and general intimidating aura, but it just signals to everyone with eyes that you were taken and tells anyone who has the thought of having you as their own to ‘fuck off’. 

the only thing about it that he hates is being unable to see your sparkling smile while you gawk at how different everything looks while at a higher height, yet the vision of it in his head makes his heart warm with adoration and affection.

[thewritetofreespeech]

pairing: Gwayne x fiancé reader

summary: Gwayne may have lost the tourney, but he gained a better prize.

tags: female reader, reader is from the Reach, heterosexual relationship, hand job, mentions of injury, subtle Gwayne daddy issues (not sexy, just Gwayne being Gwayne), Gwayne being a simp for his lady

-----------------------------♟️----------------------------------

When Gwayne told his father one day, at about the age of six, that he was going to take up the sword and learn to be a knight, all his father said was, “are you sure?”

His opinion on the announcement did not seem to sway one way or another, much like his opinion on the actual son. Their lady mother had given him an heir, a spare, a daughter, and Gwayne. His brothers would be learned men like their father, so Gwayne thought he could be useful by being a marshal man for his family. He was actually quite good at it too. All of his instructors said so. His training partners. The men of their House bannermen.

But no one would know that now as Gwayne was quickly unseated in the first round of the tournament. A lucky shot. Luckier still as it could have been fatal, but instead just a wound to his left side and pride. To fall in front of his father and beloved sister wounded him still.

Gwayne had taken what was left of his pride and limped off the tourney grounds. Making it to an awaiting sick bay as injuries in tournaments were more common than not. He had to be stripped out of his armor like a pleb. Been tended to like an invalid while he grit his teeth and let the maester wrap his broken ribs. Just the one, actually. But it was enough to knock him out of the tournament for the rest of the week.

He sighed and rested his head against the headboard. All he wanted was to show his family that his efforts had not been in vain. To show them what he was working so hard for while they were in the Capital. Now he would have to wait for the next tournament. If his father even bothered to show up.

“Gwayne?” The knight looked up from his self-pity musing at the door and found his fiancé there. In his pain and grief over his disappointing show, he had completely forgotten she had been in the crowd too. Wonderful. Another beloved to witness his failure. “Are you alright? That fall…it looked rather nasty…”

“It wasn’t ideal.” He winced as he tried to move his arm to pull his shirt on. Finding it immodest to be in just bandages in front of a lady. She came to his side instantly, helping him pull his arm through with as little discomfort as possible. “Sorry you came all this way to witness such a poor showing. Or waste your favor.”

“It is not a waste Gwayne. Do not say such things.”

Gwayne reached in his pocket and pulled her ribbon from his trousers. She had given it to him the night before, in private, wishing him good fortune & safety in the events to come. He had had it in his breastplate when the games started, and squirrel it away into his pocket after he was injured so it wouldn’t be thrown away. “You should give it to a better knight then I. I’m done for.”

“You fell off a horse Gwayne, not the edge of the world.” She told him. “And, there is no better knight than you for me.” She pushed her offered ribbon back at him with a stern look. “If you keep speaking this way, I shall have to give back your favor and return to the Reach.”

His eyes lit up in alarm. Knowing that she meant his ring, and he could not have that. “Alright. I’m sorry.” To lose the tournament was one thing, but to lose her. Gwayne couldn’t stand it.

She smiled at him. Seeming pleased that he had gotten the hint on not being so hard on himself, and looked around quickly before she leaned in for a kiss. “I know you’re disappointed. But you’re alive and relatively unscathed.”

“And handsome.” He quipped back as he was starting to feel in good spirits. “Do not forget that.”

“Oh, how could I.” His beguiling fiancé leaned in to kiss him again. Longer this time. “Thank the Gods for fine helmets.”

It took Gwayne’s brain a bit to catch on that her hands were moving around his waist band. Perhaps it was the loss of air from their kissing. Or that his bell got run pretty hard in the fall and he was still recovering. Or perhaps still it was simply just her. But he caught on just about the time the cool air brushed against his nether regions, and he sprung up. “What are you doing?” He asked. His back teeth setting against the pain of his sudden movement as he fretfully looked over towards the door.

“Helping you relax.” She replied with some cheek. “I heard the maesters say you needed to do that and rest if you were to heal.”

“And you think undressing me in a room where just anyone could walk in is going to help me relax??”

“Well, no. Perhaps not that part.” Gwayne wheezed in a breath, as much as his battered ribs would allow, when she reached in and took hold of him. “But this part might.”

Gwayne knew not the touch of another, save his own hand. Though he took no vow like the King’s Guard when he became a knight, he had made a personal vow that he would be stalwart in his honor & practice. Dutiful to his House as to not sully it by laying Flowers at their doors. He does not ask how his future wife knew of such things. In all honesty, he did not want to know. All he could think about in that moment, after the shock and panic of getting caught, was how good her soft hand felt around his cock.

His member hardened quickly under her touch. Gwayne was still a young, virile man, with adrenaline still lingering in his veins, a strong breeze could get him up. He moaned quietly as his lady’s hand stroked him. Long steady pulls of her hand up & down. Watching as he was transfixed by this surreal experience that was happening to him.

“Does it feel good my love?” Gwayne nodded. His lord’s education failing him as he could not articulate in this moment how good it felt. “Good. I want to know how you like it, so I can prepare for our wedding night.” He moaned, or perhaps whimpered, at the thought. Just another 3 months. Just another 3 months and she would be his wife, and he would have her all to himself. Her body, her mind, her heart; though she had been clear that he already had the latter two. His hips bucked up at the thought of her beneath him and Gwayne let out a sharp cry that was crossed between one of pleasure & pain as his ribs were jostled again. Then he heard a flurry of scurried motion behind the door.

Panick set in, the fear of getting caught welling up inside him. Not just for himself but her as well. How would they explain such lewd behavior if they were caught? Her reputation would be besmirched. His father might call off the engagement in the face of such scandal!

Luckily his wife to be was not only beautiful but clever. Like all fine roses of the Reach. She quickly pulled a blanket over his midsection and placed their hands together over the spot where the obvious tenting would be. “Forgive me, my lady. I thought I heard his lordship call for help.”

“Such a steward of care you are, Maester Callen.” Her voice was sweet, complimentary, and hypnotic to Gwayne. “Just a twinge of the ribs from a sudden movement. The injury is new. Our silly Ser must have forgotten he had it for a moment.” Gwayne swallowed as her little finger brushed against the outline of him through the blankets. His jaw having to set as to not moan in a very indiscrete way in from of the maester.

“Are you sure he is alright?” Maester Callen asked. A curious look all men of learning seemed to get when they asked questions. “Your lordship looks feverish. There could be an underlying infection from the trauma—“I’m fine.” Gwayne barked quickly. His noble resolve hanging on by a thread thinner than this blanket. “I just need rest, as you said. Please,” ‘oh Gods, please, please, please!’ he thought as his lady continued to stroke him with just the finest touch to the point of madness this whole time, “leave us so I might finish my conversation with my lady and be about that.”

The maester seemed still curious, but asked no further questions. He bowed his head, then closed the door behind him as he left. “Good Gods….!” Gwayne hissed through his teeth as he writhed freely now that they were alone again.

“That was a close one.”

“You insufferable minx!” He hissed at her. That cheeky grin on her face was infuriating but also the vision from his dreams. “You nearly got us caught!”

“I’m not the one who inadvertently called him in here, now did I my love?” Gwayne had a few more sharp words for her but they all vanished as her hand pulled back the blanket again and stroked him fully.

His head tilted back with a moan. The fear of almost being caught, damning though it would be, had only heightened the sensation. He warned her that he was close, not sure if she knew what that meant, and let her swallow his final moans in a kiss as he came all over her hand and his linen dressings. She let him go, a soft kiss on his lips like a seal before she pulled away, and he slumped back against the bed like a witless fool.

“There. Now you can relax & rest completely, my love.” Gwayne nodded. Not sure what she was talking about right now, but rest sounded nice right now. “I shall come to see you tomorrow once they move you back to your quarters. We’ll have the whole afternoon to ourselves, since everyone will at the tournament.” Oh right. The tournament. He was supposed to apart of that. Showing his family & father how much he had trained for them. It suddenly didn’t seem all that important anymore. “Get better, my love.”

She kissed him one last time and then saw herself out. The picture of civility and the dutiful fiancé come to shower well wishes on her mate to be. No one knew, or would know, what had happened between them. Gwayne felt his spent cock twitch a little as he watched her walk away. Just 3 more months. Just 3 more months felt like an eternity all of a sudden.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Sting benedict bridgerton x pregnant female reader

Benedict Bridgerton had always prided himself on maintaining his composure under pressure. However, today, as he observed his pregnant wife, Y/N, wincing in pain and clutching her arm after a wasp sting, his usual calmness swiftly dissipated.

“Benedict, it is merely a sting,” Y/N endeavored to soothe him, though her voice wavered, betraying her own discomfort.

Benedict's eyes widened with panic, his breaths coming out in shallow, rapid gasps. Tears began to form as he attempted to steady himself. "It’s alright. Just focus on me, please,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.

Y/N reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she touched his cheek. "Ben, you are not well. You are trembling. Allow me to assist you, please.”

His gaze locked onto hers, and he took a deep breath, trying to focus. "I promise I shall keep you safe, no matter what," he vowed, his voice cracking slightly.

Y/N smiled weakly, feeling a rush of warmth despite the pain. "I know you will. Now, let us tend to this, together."

With her encouragement, Benedict managed to calm down enough to gently inspect the sting. His touch was tender, his concern palpable. As he carefully tended to her, Y/N felt a sense of reassurance wash over her. She knew, without a doubt, that Benedict would always be there for her, no matter the circumstances.

But then, Y/N's face went pale, and her eyes rolled back as she collapsed into his arms. His heart pounded with sheer panic as he gently shook her, calling her name with increasing desperation.

"Y/N, my love, please, wake up!" His voice cracked, tears streaming down his cheeks. He scooped her up into his arms, her limp form cradled against his chest, and sprinted towards the house.

"Help! Someone, please help!" Benedict's shouts echoed through the halls as he carried her inside, his eyes wild with fear. He laid her carefully on the settee, fumbling to find the bell to summon the family physician.

Within minutes, the doctor arrived, quickly assessing the situation. "She is experiencing an anaphylactic reaction," he said urgently. "We must administer epinephrine at once."

Benedict watched, helpless and terrified, as the doctor injected Y/N with epinephrine and followed up with antihistamines. Every second felt like an eternity, his breath caught in his throat until he saw the color slowly returning to her cheeks and her breathing becoming steadier.

As Y/N slowly regained consciousness, her eyes fluttering open, the first sensation she felt was Benedict’s warm hand clasping hers. She tried to rise, but a wave of dizziness compelled her to remain still.

“Take it easy, my love,” Benedict murmured, his voice soft yet laden with concern. “You are safe now.”

Y/N’s hand instinctively moved to her stomach. “The baby,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Is the baby alright?”

Benedict’s face softened, and he nodded reassuringly. “Yes, the baby is fine. The doctor has assured me that all is well.” He squeezed her hand gently. “You gave us quite a fright, but both you and the child are safe.”

Tears of relief welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she placed her other hand over her belly, feeling the reassuring flutter of their baby moving inside her. “Thank the heavens,” she breathed.

Benedict brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his eyes filled with love and relief. “You and our child are my world, Y/N. I do not know what I would have done had anything happened to you.”

Y/N managed a weak smile, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you for being there, for saving us,” she said softly.

Benedict kissed her forehead tenderly. “I shall always be here for you, my dearest. Always.”

As the evening settled into a calm hush, Benedict sat by his wife’s bedside, ensuring she was comfortable and at ease. The scare from earlier still lingered in his mind, but seeing Y/N safe and resting brought him a measure of peace. He finally decided to retire for the night, though sleep was elusive.

A soft rustling and the sound of footsteps caught his attention. Rising from his chair, Benedict moved quietly through the house, following the faint noises until he found his wife waddling into the kitchen in her bedtime attire.

“Y/N, my love, what are you doing up at this hour?” he asked gently, concern and amusement mingling in his voice.

Y/N turned, a sheepish smile gracing her lips. “I have a hankering for something sweet,” she admitted, her eyes twinkling with a playful glint. “I could not sleep.”

Benedict’s eyes softened with affection as he watched her make her way to the larder. “And what, pray tell, has caught your fancy?”

Y/N pulled out a decadent chocolate cake, setting it on the counter with a satisfied sigh. Benedict chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “Chocolate cake, of course,” he murmured.

Without another word, he moved to a drawer, retrieving two forks. He handed one to Y/N and took the other for himself. “We shall indulge together, then,” he said, a warm smile spreading across his face.

They settled at the kitchen table, the cake between them, and began to enjoy the rich, sweet treat. Each bite was a shared moment of quiet joy, a balm to the events of the day. Benedict watched Y/N’s eyes light up with each forkful, his heart swelling with love and gratitude.

As they savored the cake, Y/N reached across the table, taking his hand in hers. “Thank you, Benedict,” she said softly, her voice filled with warmth. “For everything.”

Benedict squeezed her hand gently. “Always, my love,” he replied, his eyes shining with devotion. “For you and our child, always.”

They sat there together, in the soft glow of the kitchen, enjoying their midnight snack and the unspoken promise of a future filled with love.

[emmylksblog]

ONE STEP AT A TIME // Héctor Fort

summary: after a big fight, you’re feeling like a total fraud but still show up to Hector’s game. Emotions run high, but a sweet moment brings you back together. based on this request.

genre: slight angst, fluff

warnings: none

a/n: hey girlies! 💅 it's been a while since i last posted, where did the time go? life got hectic with uni and all that grown-up stuff that i just went survival mode for a while 😰 but i’m back tryna be consistent 🫶🏻

The final whistle echoes through the stadium, and as the crowd begins to disperse, you make your way to the players’ exit, weaving through clusters of fans. Your heart pounds, a mix of worry and anticipation tightening your chest.

You finally catch sight of Hector, walking off the field with a noticeable limp. He’s putting on a brave face, smiling politely at fans, but you notice the tension around his eyes, the way he tries to mask his discomfort.

“Hector!” you call out, your voice getting lost in the hum of the crowd. He turns at the sound of your voice, eyes searching for a moment until they land on you. His expression shifts—first surprise, then something softer, almost relieved. He takes a few hesitant steps toward you, and you close the gap.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be here,” he says, his voice warm but guarded. He tries to meet your gaze, but his eyes flicker with hesitation, as if he’s unsure of what to say after days of silence between you.

“Of course I came,” you reply, keeping your tone steady, though your heart feels heavy with everything left unsaid. You glance down at his leg, noticing how he shifts his weight to avoid putting too much pressure on it. “Are you okay? That looked pretty rough.”

He chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, just a bit bruised. The medics insisted I sit out the rest of the game, but it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Your eyes linger on his leg, catching every wince and grimace he tries to hide. “Come on, let me take you home,” you offer, voice gentle but firm. He hesitates, looking like he’s about to refuse, but something in your expression makes him nod.

The car ride is quiet, the city lights casting soft shadows across his face as he stares out the window, lost in thought. You steal a few glances his way, trying to read him, feeling the weight of unspoken words between you. Your heart aches to explain everything, to ease his worry, but the words feel stuck, too fragile to break the silence yet.

When you finally arrive at his apartment, he takes a step out of the car, flinching slightly as he shifts his weight. You reach out instinctively, offering your arm for support. He gives you a small, grateful smile, and you both walk inside, each step slow and careful.

Inside, you help him ease onto the couch, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh as he stretches his leg out. Without a word, you head to the kitchen, grabbing an ice pack and a towel. Kneeling beside him, you press the cold pack gently to his injury, your hands moving carefully, focused on not causing him any more pain.

He watches you quietly, his gaze lingering on your face. “Thank you,” he says softly, his voice carrying a hint of something vulnerable. “You didn’t have to do this.”

You pause, glancing up at him, your fingers still on the ice pack. “I wanted to be here,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. You drop your gaze, suddenly feeling exposed. “I know I haven’t been around much. And I’m sorry.”

His brows knit together, and he studies you with a mixture of concern and confusion. “What’s going on?” he asks gently. “You’ve been so distant, I thought… I don’t know, that you needed space or maybe… I was making things harder for you.”

You feel a pang in your chest, his words hitting closer to home than you’d like to admit. You try to find the right words, the ones that will explain everything without unraveling you completely. “It’s… it’s not you,” you say finally, glancing down at his hand resting on his knee.

Your fingers brush against his in a brief, hesitant movement before you pull back. “I just… I feel like a fraud sometimes. Like I’m constantly putting on a face for everyone, and I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore. And I didn’t want to bring you into that.”

He’s silent for a moment, his gaze steady and unwavering. Then, he reaches out, his hand covering yours in a gentle but firm grip. “You’re not a fraud,” he says, his tone soft yet resolute. “And even if you don’t believe that right now, I do. I see you—all of you. And I’m here because I want to be, not because of some version you think I expect.”

Your breath catches, the weight of his words sinking in. You look away, blinking back the emotions threatening to spill over. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing, grounding motion.

For a long moment, you sit in silence, letting his words sink in, feeling the warmth of his hand against yours. Slowly, you look up, meeting his gaze, feeling a flicker of relief settle in your chest.

“I just… I don’t want to let you down,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he leans back, still holding your hand. “You could never let me down,” he says, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “We’re in this together, okay? Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you feel the last of your walls begin to crumble. Without thinking, you lean forward, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling his arm come around you in a steady, comforting embrace. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t push for more. He simply holds you, his presence a quiet reassurance that, no matter how messy things get, he’s here.

You stay there for a while, the tension between you slowly dissolving, replaced by the familiar warmth of his closeness. After what feels like an eternity, Hector pulls back slightly, tilting your chin up gently with his fingers so you’re looking into his eyes.

“I care about you,” he says softly, sincerity etched on his face. “You’re not alone in this.”

In that moment, you feel everything you’ve been holding onto begin to lift, replaced by the quiet, steady assurance of his love. You’re about to say something, to thank him, when he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. The tenderness of the gesture sends warmth flooding through you, solidifying the connection that had felt frayed just moments before.

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. And as you lean into him again, you know that together, you’ll find your way through the chaos, one step at a time.

[its-avalon-08]

Hi, could you write a story with George, where he is protective of the reader? I don’t really have much of a plot, but I would like a bit of angst and fluff. Thanks!

all my love (gr63)

✦ pairing - george russell x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, jealousy, protective george

George Russell is always fiercely protective of Y/N, whether they're in the fast-paced world of Formula 1 or just enjoying quiet moments at home. His protective nature shows in the little things—like making sure she's safe from paparazzi pushing through the crowd, or standing up to people who try to belittle her. He keeps a watchful eye on her during events, always ready to step in when someone gets too close or crosses a line. No matter how tense things might get between them, George's protective instinct never falters. To him, Y/N is everything, and he'll always go the extra mile to keep her safe and remind the world that she's his.

It was the day after a big race, and George had just secured a podium finish. The media frenzy was at its peak, with paparazzi and fans crowding every corner outside the hotel where George and Y/N were staying. Y/N had accompanied George to an event that evening, and as they walked out together, hand in hand, the mob outside seemed more aggressive than usual.

"Stay close," George whispered, his thumb gently rubbing the back of Y/N's hand.

Y/N nodded, trying to stay calm despite the growing chaos. The crowd of fans surged forward, phones held high, while photographers shouted for George's attention. The security guards tried to hold them back, but it was clear they were struggling.

Suddenly, there was a push from behind, and Y/N stumbled forward. The momentum from the crowd caused her to lose her footing, and George instinctively reached out to steady her.

"Oi! Watch it!" George shouted, his protective instincts kicking in. He tried to shield Y/N with his body as the fans kept pressing forward.

But the crowd didn’t stop. In the confusion, someone jostled George from the side, and before he could fully regain his balance, another push sent him tumbling to the ground, pulling Y/N with him. She gasped, her heart pounding in her chest as she scrambled to get up.

Out of nowhere, Lewis Hamilton, who had been nearby, immediately stepped in. His arm wrapped around Y/N, gently but firmly pulling her away from the chaos. “I got you, I got you,” he whispered, his calm demeanor doing little to hide the concern in his voice.

Y/N looked over her shoulder in panic, her eyes searching for George. “George! George, are you okay?”

George was already getting to his feet, brushing off the dust from his trousers, but there was a deep scowl on his face. He winced slightly, favoring his left leg, and his jaw clenched in frustration.

“Back off!” George shouted angrily at the crowd, his voice sharp and filled with fury. “What the hell is wrong with you lot? You just shoved her!”

The crowd stilled for a moment, clearly taken aback by his outburst. Even the security guards began pushing the people back more forcefully, creating a space between George, Y/N, and the aggressive fans.

Y/N, still in shock, held onto Lewis, her heart racing as she watched George. "George, you’re hurt…"

George limped over to her, his frustration melting into worry as soon as he saw her in Lewis’ arms. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” His voice softened instantly as he reached for her, ignoring the pain in his leg.

“I’m fine,” Y/N whispered, her eyes filled with concern for him. “But you’re not…”

“I don’t care about me,” George said fiercely, pulling her close despite his obvious discomfort. “I care about you. They shouldn’t have done that.”

Lewis gently let go of Y/N, stepping back slightly to give the couple some space. “You guys good? I can make sure they clear this area if you want.”

George nodded, his arm firmly around Y/N’s shoulders. “Thanks, mate. Just… get her inside. I’ll handle this.”

Lewis shot George a reassuring look before turning to the nearby security team, instructing them to handle the situation. Y/N glanced up at George, worry evident in her eyes as he tried to stand tall, though the pain was clear on his face.

“You shouldn’t be handling anything,” Y/N said, her voice trembling slightly. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine, love,” George said, his tone softening as he looked into her eyes. “I just… I lost it when I saw them push you like that. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Y/N shook her head, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “You don’t have to apologize. You always protect me, but I hate that you got hurt because of me.”

George held her close, his chin resting on the top of her head. “I’d get hurt a hundred times over if it means keeping you safe. Nothing matters more to me than you.”

From a distance, Lewis gave them a small, supportive smile before heading back inside, leaving the couple to recover from the chaos.

As the security team finally cleared the crowd, Y/N looked up at George, her hand gently resting on his cheek. “Let’s get you inside and take care of that leg, alright?”

George smiled down at her, his protective demeanor softening. “Only if you promise to stay with me.”

Y/N smiled back, leaning up to kiss him softly. “Always.”

2.

It was supposed to be a quiet family dinner at Y/N’s parents' house in London, but as always, the atmosphere had turned tense. George had been by Y/N’s side the entire evening, but he could sense her unease from the moment they arrived. He could see why, too. Her family, particularly her parents, had a habit of being overly critical, constantly making snide remarks that chipped away at Y/N’s confidence.

Y/N sat next to George at the long dining table, her eyes focused on her plate as her mother launched into yet another judgmental comment.

“You know, Y/N, it’s a wonder how you manage to keep up with George’s lifestyle when you’re so busy with your little business,” her mother said with a condescending smile. “I mean, it’s cute, but don’t you think it’s time to settle down and focus on something more stable?”

Her father, sitting at the head of the table, nodded in agreement. “Yes, George is a successful man in the prime of his career. Surely, you can’t expect him to be patient with you forever.”

Y/N’s grip tightened around her fork, her knuckles white as she tried to keep her emotions in check. She always had to endure these dinners, these backhanded comments that made her feel small. But it hurt even more now with George there, witnessing it all.

George could feel the tension radiating off of Y/N, and he wasn’t having any of it. He had been quiet for most of the evening, but hearing Y/N’s family tear her down, yet again, was the last straw.

Before Y/N could respond, George stood up from his seat, his expression hard and unwavering. “I’m sorry, but I can’t sit here and listen to this anymore.”

Y/N’s parents both looked up, startled by the sudden interruption. Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t appreciate the way you talk to her,” George said firmly, his voice calm but filled with a quiet intensity. He looked at Y/N’s parents with a kind of authority they hadn’t expected. “Y/N is the smartest, most capable person I’ve ever met. The way you undermine her achievements, her hard work, it’s—honestly, it’s disrespectful.”

Her father frowned. “George, we’re just being honest. She could be doing more with her life. Someone has to push her to do better.”

George’s jaw tightened, his hands gripping the back of his chair as he leaned forward slightly. “She is doing more with her life. She’s built a successful business on her own, while managing to balance everything that comes with being in a relationship with me and the crazy life I live. She’s strong, she’s incredible, and frankly, the fact that you can’t see that is disappointing.”

Y/N’s mother blinked, clearly taken aback by George’s words. “George, we’re just trying to look out for her.”

“No,” George interrupted, his voice low but firm. “You’re tearing her down, and it’s not okay. I won’t sit here and watch it happen.”

Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest as she watched George stand up for her, his protective energy filling the room. She had never seen anyone stand up to her parents like this, and certainly not for her. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away, trying to stay composed.

Her parents sat in stunned silence as George turned to Y/N, offering her his hand. “We’re leaving.”

Y/N, still processing the moment, nodded silently and slipped her hand into his. They left the dining room without another word, the tension hanging thick in the air behind them. The moment they were outside, Y/N let out a shaky breath, her hand still gripping George’s tightly.

“George…” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

George turned to her, his expression softening as he cupped her face in his hands. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that. Ever.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she looked up at him, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. “I… I didn’t know how to say anything. I’ve put up with it for so long, I just…”

“You shouldn’t have to put up with it,” George said softly, brushing a tear from her cheek. “You’re amazing, Y/N. And I love you, just as you are. I needed them to know that.”

Without another word, Y/N surged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and kissing him with all the emotion she had bottled up inside. The kiss was desperate, filled with relief, love, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude. George’s arms circled around her waist, pulling her close, his hands resting on the small of her back as he deepened the kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Y/N rested her forehead against his, her eyes still closed as she savored the moment. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

George pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “You never have to thank me for standing up for you. I’ll always protect you, Y/N. Always.”

Y/N smiled through the remaining tears, her heart full as she leaned into his embrace. In that moment, she knew she had found someone who would love her unconditionally, someone who would always have her back—even against the people who should have supported her the most.

3.

It had been a long day, and tensions between Y/N and George were running high. They had argued that morning over something trivial, but as the hours passed, the silence between them had grown heavier. George was short with her, and Y/N, equally stubborn, gave him the cold shoulder. They barely spoke throughout the day, both too proud to break the silence first.

But they had plans for the evening—an invite to a club for a post-race celebration with the team. Neither of them wanted to cancel, so they dressed up and went along, even though the air between them was still tense.

Y/N wore a sleek black dress that hugged her figure perfectly, her hair cascading down her back in loose waves. She looked stunning, and George couldn’t help but steal glances at her as they walked into the club, though he said nothing. His jaw was set, his mood still sour from their earlier argument.

The club was alive with music, lights flashing as people danced and laughed. George immediately joined his team, catching up with Lewis and a few others. Y/N, still frustrated with him, decided to grab a drink and wandered towards the bar. As she stood there, sipping her cocktail and trying to shake off the lingering tension, one of the mechanics from another team slid up beside her.

"Hey there," the mechanic said, flashing a grin. "You look a bit lonely. Where's your guy?"

Y/N glanced at him, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she forced a polite smile. "He’s around," she said, keeping her tone neutral.

The mechanic didn’t take the hint and leaned in closer, clearly interested. “Well, if he’s leaving someone like you alone, he’s making a big mistake. How about we get out of here? I know a quieter spot down the street.”

Before Y/N could respond, she felt a familiar presence behind her. George had been keeping an eye on her from across the room and, seeing the mechanic's approach, had immediately crossed the floor. His hand slid possessively around her waist, pulling her firmly against him.

“She’s not interested,” George said coldly, his voice low and threatening as he stared down the mechanic.

The mechanic raised his hands defensively. “Hey, man, no harm done. Just talking.”

“Yeah, well, you can go talk to someone else,” George said, his jaw tight. His hold on Y/N didn’t loosen as the mechanic walked away, casting one last glance at her before disappearing into the crowd.

Y/N looked up at George, her heart pounding—not from fear, but from the way George’s protective side always surfaced when it came to her. His touch, his stance, the way he looked at the mechanic like he would tear him apart if he tried anything—it was all undeniably attractive, even after a full day of tension between them.

Teasingly, she raised an eyebrow. “Even when you’re pissed, you still get jealous, huh?”

George’s lips twitched, his icy mood melting just a little as he met her gaze. He leaned down, his face inches from hers, his arm still firmly around her waist. “I might be pissed off, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, “but you’re still mine. That hasn’t changed.”

The heat in his words sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn’t help but smile, her frustration from earlier starting to fade. “Yours, huh?” she teased, her eyes sparkling as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

George’s expression softened as he pulled her closer, his forehead resting against hers. “Yeah. Always.”

The argument that had been hanging between them all day suddenly felt insignificant. There, in the noise and chaos of the club, all Y/N could focus on was George—how fiercely he loved her, how protective he always was, even when they fought.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

George sighed, his thumb brushing her cheek gently. “I’m sorry too. I hate when we fight.”

“Me too,” Y/N replied, her voice soft as she leaned into his touch. “But I kind of like how protective you get when other guys try to hit on me.”

George chuckled, finally letting go of the tension from earlier. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not going to make a habit of this.”

She laughed softly, pulling him down for another kiss, this one longer and deeper. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N grinned. “Even if you’re mad, you still love me.”

George rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he held her close. “You have no idea.”

With his arms wrapped securely around her, the two of them forgot about the argument that had weighed them down all day. In that moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were together, still each other’s, no matter what.

[katsumox]

hihi!! idk if ur reqs are still open but :,) thinking about jason coming back from a really bad patrol, like he's all bloody and bruised and shit. cleaning him up even when he insists he's fine and kissing his bruises, just like a lot of comfort. sorry if this makes no sense LMAOO i've never requested something before!! tysm for reading have a nice day <33

thank u for the request my love !!!!!! reqs for jason r always open<333

this is roommate!verse because hngghhhhhh okay anyways !

“Oh honey, I’m home,” a sarcastic modulated voice rings out from the balcony. You don’t even have to look up from your spot on the couch to know it’s Jason.

“Don’t ask me where the redheads are,”he continues, “Thing one and two are off doing… fuck if I know.”

His voice is tight with irritation and poorly disguised pain as he all but limps into the living room.

Your eyes widen at his state before your mind settles into work mode.

“Shirt. Off now,” you say, jogging to the bathroom for the med kit stashed under the sink.

“No warm welcome, huh,” Jason teases as he tosses his helmet to the ground. He hisses as he tugs off his shirt, exposing the bruise-littered expanse of his musculature.

“I’m fine,” he rumbles, “No life threatening cuts or nothin’. Just…” he trails off with a sigh as you apply the cold antiseptic to his wounds.

He shuts himself up, despite the quiet whines of discomfort clawing at his throat. He watches you work as he fights the urge to snake a hand around your waist and keep you there, pressed snugly into him.

“Just one more,” you mutter, tapping at the gash near his jaw, “Wonder Woman bandaid?” You ask, looking up at him with those big doe eyes.

He grunts in confirmation, eyes flitting from your form to something off in the distance.

“Let me kiss it better,” You coo as you press the bandaid to his jaw.

Jason frowns as he looks around the apartment’s living room. It’s dark and empty, save for the two of you.

“Thought we couldn’t do the whole PDA thing in shared spaces,” he rumbles, a smirk playing on his lips, “You’re breaking the rules.”

“Fuck rules,” You hum, “No one gives a shit about rules.”

You press a kiss to Jason’s jaw, right next to the bandaid.

“Fuck rules,” Jason parrots, slinging his strong arms across your hips.

You kiss the J shaped scar on his face before standing on your tip toes to let your lips ghost the yellowing bruise under his eye.

He exhales, watching you intently as you press feathery kisses down his bruised neck and collarbones.

His eyes stay glued to your lips as you kiss the now-scarring wound on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Jason airily murmurs to no one in particular, “No one gives a shit about rules.”

[loganwritesprobably]

Chronic Pain

Content/Warnings: Crocodile/GN!Reader, pre-slash, Reader has chronic pain, Reader is a Buggy pirate

Notes: This is very self indulgent but hopefully people will enjoy

It was hard sometimes, life as a pirate. Even now that you were grounded, on land 90% of the time at Karai Bari, it was hard. The difference between being at sea and being on land was minimal when it came to you, you even still slept in a hammock.

You were a Buggy pirate at heart and you always would be, but since Crocodile had arrived you'd grown increasingly close. He'd decided you were the "least incompetent" amongst the crew and so when he needed a task to be completed that either couldn't be done by Daz or he'd be "wasted" on it, he sought you out to complete it instead. You didn't mind so much. Manual labour work had always been hard for you and while Buggy understood you did feel useless, and often that meant you overworked yourself and caused yourself more harm than necessary. Work for Crocodile was rarely of that nature.

Delivering letters, collecting the paper from the news coo, reading paperwork and contracts for him, confirming kills of marines, posting new bounties - they were less straining. But, some days there was nothing he needed you for, and so you'd default back to your Captain's side and do what he needed.

Yesterday had been like that. You'd found the crew working hard, asked where you needed, and you simply joined them. First was moving a new shipment from the docks to the big top, then was transporting some of the new shipment to different areas of the island, then erecting a new tent, then moving old and broken materials to another part of the island for disposal. It'd been a lot of heavy lifting and walking, which was awful for your joints, but you'd gotten on with the work despite the discomfort.

Today, you were in awful pain. You'd managed to make it to breakfast with a grimace on your face and a small limp, and the crew had been worried. You'd intended to ignore it, until Cabaji snitched on you to Buggy, who sent you back to bed to rest. He'd scolded you, but he'd done it gently and with concern. He struggled with pain too, and yet he never seemed to stop, so you'd called him a hypocrite under your breath before retreating to your hammock to take a nap. You'd been tired anyway.

You were woken again not even an hour later by Crocodile himself, who had apparently been looking for you to get some work done for him. Daz Bones was elsewhere, and so he'd had to find you personally.

"Sir?" You asked, rubbing a hand over your face with a yawn. You enjoyed the short few moments of bliss before your pain kicked in again.

"Why are you still sleeping?" He asked harshly, and you sat up slowly, brows furrowed as you concentrated on not falling while trying to ignore your pain.

"Sorry sir. Captain Buggy sent me back to bed this morning to rest, but I can be ready in ten minutes if I'm needed." You replied, ready to do whatever was needed. You liked Crocodile a lot, more than you probably should, you were only too happy to assist him.

"Why the hell would he do that?" Crocodile questioned with a sneer, looking you up and down as if scanning for injuries.

"I have chronic pain, sir. I overworked myself yesterday and woke this morning in more pain than usual. But, I'm prepared to work if you need me." You wanted to be honest, because you didn't doubt that Crocodile would be able to identify a lie immediately, but you also didn't want to lose his favour. Those quiet afternoons you spent together both doing paperwork had a special place in your heart. Crocodile regarded you for a long moment, considering his next steps. All you could do was sit and not wither under his gaze.

"I understand the feeling," he said after a moment, words clipped as if he didn't really want to be talking about it, "don't push yourself so hard. I'll speak with Buggy about having you work with me full time, doing less strenuous things." Crocodile nodded once he was done, mostly to himself, pleased with the course of action.

"Whatever you'd like, sir. I'm happy to help." You replied, and you were in fact only took happy to do what he'd suggested. You could see the way Crocodile chewed the inside of his cheek with uncertainty for a moment, a side effect of not having a cigar in his mouth, and then he shook his head and returned to himself.

"Yes, well. Rest today, captain's orders, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow." And then he turned and left before you could respond or argue.

You had a lot of mornings with Crocodile in your future, it would appear.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf

[scribblesofagoonerr]

The journey to recovery begins now.

Heres the next part! ✌🏼

Let me know what you think? I have a lot of time on my hands currently unable to move much, so this is the result!

Credit to @alotofpockets for giving me the courage to continue to write!

Pairings: beth mead x teen reader, vivianne miedema x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You never truly appreciated how much you took your knees for granted until it was too late, leaving you to confront the stark reality of their absence during the grueling weeks that followed after your surgery.

The initial stages of your rehabilitation post-surgery, each day felt like an uphill battle against the constraints of limited mobility. Every single step was a painful reminder of your body’s fragility, which left you teetering on the edge of frustration.

The simple tasks you once took for granted now felt like insurmountable challenges, even the thought of walking a few steps sent a wave of discomfort radiating through your knee, serving as a constant reminder of your newfound vulnerability.

Reflecting on the moment that led to this predicament, you can’t help but regret it as your knee injury could have been avoided. Perhaps if you had chosen a different path that fateful night, the outcome would have been drastically different.

“Where are you off to?” Viv’s concerned voice broke through your thoughts, she had virtually been watching over you like a hawk since your return from the hospital.

“I’m just going to the toilet” You muttered, struggling to get up from the sofa but you were just too stubborn to ask for any sort of help.

Vulnerability was something you’d never dealt well with, it was a trait that was deemed unacceptable in your previous harsh upbringing. Weakness was a luxury that you couldn’t afford, it was a lesson that had been ingrained in you from childhood.

You could practically hear the stern cold voice of your biological father as if he were standing directly behind you, whispering into your ear.

“Do you need a hand?” Beth’s offer was laced with genuine concern, finding it difficult to watch you struggle unwillingly.

“No” You snapped, the frustration bubbling to the surface; You hadn’t meant to be so horrible, it was just sometimes easier to revert back to a defensive coping mechanism that you had been conditioned to over the years as you grew up.

“Just know I’m here if you need me” Beth’s reassurance hung in the air, a lifeline amidst the uncertainty.

“Just shout for us if you need anything, okay?” Viv chipped in, reminding you as she watched you limp off in the direction of the bathroom, although there was a weight of worry lingering incase you somehow hurt yourself in there.

Beth noted her girlfriends’ vigilant gaze and softened her expression, “She’ll be alright, Viv. She’s only gone to the loo, remember?” she joked, amusedly.

“I know, I am just worried in case she aggravates her knee or something” Viv admitted her concern, anxiously biting her bottom lip, “She really needs to be cautious” she added.

“It’s okay to be worried, but we have to let her do things for herself” Beth replied, offering comfort to alleviate her girlfriend's anxiety about you, “If needs help then she’ll shout, remember?” she reminded her.

Viv folded her arms, still visibly worried for you as she tried to listen out in case there’s a sudden slip in the bathroom, “I just can’t help but feel anxious, Beth. What if she hurts herself in there?” she repeats her worries.

“I understand, liefje” Beth placed a comforting hand on Viv’s shoulder, “But we have to let her have some independence too. We can’t smother her with our concerns” she explained to the Dutch woman.

“You’re right, I just need to remind myself of that– I just hate that she is going through this. It’s not fair” Viv mumbled, shaking her head.

Beth gently took a hold of Viv’s hand and squeezed it, “It really isn’t fair, but we’re going to do all that we can to support her, every step of the way, no matter what” she declared.

Deep down, you knew your injury wasn’t anyone’s fault, yet your reflex was to just continuously push your loved ones away once more. 

Despite your attempts, it seemed futile, especially with surprise visits becoming a regular occurance.

Apparently, today was no exception.

Unable to start your rehab anytime soon, you found yourself wrapped up in self-pity on your bed, cocooned in blankets and lost in a Netflix TV show that you had zero interest in but since your remote has gone AWOL, it left you with no choice but watch it, but at least Myle was there for company.

“Y/N/N/! We’re here!” Kyra’s unmistakable voice cut through the air, announcing her arrival.

“Kyra, she might be asleep” Alessia’s voice followed through, a touch of caution in her tone.

“Well, she might not be” Kyra retorted, barging into your room with her usual typical energy to find you awake, “See, Less? Told you that she wouldn’t be asleep!” she grinned back at the blonde.

“Wouldn’t have much chance with the way you’re shouting” You mumbled, acknowledging both of their presence.

Alessia offered an apologetic smile, “Hey, Y/N/N. We just wanted to come and see how you’re doing” she explained.

“Oh, you know? I’m fantastic” You words are laced with sarcasm.

“Well, we brought snacks” The blonde attempted to lift your dampened mood, gesturing to the bag of the treats that they had brought you.

“Wonderful” You barely entertain the idea of the sugary treats as you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, disinterested.

“I can tell she’s definitely excited about that” Kyra mocked your enthusiasm, taking hold of the bag from Alessia’s hands.

Alessia shot Kyra a warning look before turning back to you, concern etched on her face, “Hey, Y/N/N, are you okay? Truthfully?” she questioned.

“Just fuckin’ peachy” You sighed dramatically, still refusing to meet their gazes, dismissing them with a wave, “How’d you guys get in, anyway?” you asked, changing the subject.

“Beth let us in before she left” Kyra explained, perching on the end of the bed.

“Oh” You mumbled in agreement.

“Someone’s feeling grumpy today” Kyra teased, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she started to delve through the bag and pull out a packet of sweets.

You snatched the packet away, tearing it open with unnecessary force, “Wouldn’t you  be if you couldn’t walk with out assistance?” The frustration was evident in your tone of voice.

Kyra raised her hands in mock surrender although the mischief still sparkled in her eyes, “Noted. I’ll steer clear of touchy subjects” she quipped, exchanging a glance with Alessia.

Undeterred, Alessia took a seat beside you, mindful of your injury, “I get it that you’re frustrated, Y/N/N” she said softly, attempting to connect with you.

You rolled your eyes with the irritation simmering, “Well, excuse me for not being in the mood for a pep talk” you remark, your tone sharp.

“Come on, lighten up, mate” Kyra interjected, reclining against the bed’s end with a playful grin.

Ignoring her, you continued to sulk, stuffing more sweets into your mouth  with unnecessary force, not in the mood for conversation.

Alessia sighed as her concern deepend, “I just… I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to. We know what you’re going through is difficult right now” she ventured cautiously.

“I don’t want to talk about it” You snapped, your frustration boiling over, “I just want to talk, that’s all I want. I want to be able to get out of this damn bed and feel normal again!”

“Well if you’re looking for a miracle, I think you’re in the wrong place” Kyra couldn’t resist a quip to wind you up.

“Kyra” Alessia’s reprimand was gentle but firm, signaling an end to the teasing.

A tense silence settled over your room, broken only by the sound of your frustrated sighs and the crinkle of the sweet packet that Kyra continued to help herself too.

“Listen, Y/N/N, we’re here for you, okay?” Alessia told you with a gentle voice, “Whatever you need, whether it's someone to talk to or just in silence together, we’re here” she stated, determinedly.

You met her gaze, your eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and gratitude, even if you were sometimes way too stubborn to admit it, “Thanks, Alessia” you muttered, the harshness of your voice starting to dull as you realised that it wasn’t any good to take your anger out on your team mates, who only wanted to help you.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Kyra leaned forward as her playful demeanour was replaced with genuine concern, “Seriously mate” she said, her voice uncharacteristically serious, “We hate seeing you like this. Is there anything we can do to help?” she asked.

You hesitated to answer, you were torn between your desire for independence and the comfort of having your friends by your side, “I don’t know” you admitted finally, your voice wavering slightly, “I just… I just hate feeling so helpless, you know?” 

Alessia reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as she gently pulled you into her embrace, “It’s okay to feel that way” she said softly, “But you’re not alone in this. We’ll all help you get through it together” she promised you.

For a moment, the weight of your injury felt a little lighter, the burden now shared amongst your friends who refused to let you face it alone.

“Thanks, Lessi. Thanks, Kyra” You mumbled, burying your head in her chest as you allowed yourself to lean on them for their support, knowing no matter how tough the road ahead might be, you wouldn’t have to walk in alone, “Could one of you please pass me the remote? I don’t know what I’m watchin’ but it’s so boring” you muttered, complaining which made the two of them laugh.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

You're his favorite show (2)

Choso is determined to win that one on one with you. Even going as far as to deny his own pleasure.

Divider: @rookthornesartistry

Content: fem!reader, reader is a camgirl, self pleasure (choso, reader), overstim (Choso), denial mentioned (also choso), pretties (readers name for followers) sex toys(vibrator, faux cock), lots of cum, parasocial behavior forming

Wc: 1.2k

Part one, Part Three

His stomach muscles tensed, another load of cum landing on his tummy as he watched you. Keeping one finger on the heart button, spamming them as quickly as he could. He needed to win. He had to. His finger was cramping, screaming from the awkward position he had it in, but he ignored all pain, all discomfort. Choso had told himself, after your announcement, that he was going to ignore his cock. Even if it was hard, leaking, the tip a flushed red. He would ignore it. And he had, his sole focus was pressing that heart over and over again. He would win if he did this, he was sure of it.

“Gonna make a pretty mess for me?” He heard you purr, your form leaning back in the chair as you held a small bullet vibrator to your clit. He felt like you were speaking directly to him and he'd never deny you. A glob of saliva was immediately spit onto his hand, wrapping around his length. Which is how he ended up coming four times, his hand still stroking his soft cock as he watched you. Twitching with sensitivity.

Fuck. He'd never forgive himself if he lost his one chance to talk to you in private because he couldn't resist you.

Even so, he never stopped pressing the heart. And he continued until your back arched, your arousal coating the toy. Funny how he started to harbor hatred and jealousy towards that little thing. He watched your naked chest rise and fall, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin. Subconsciously, he licked his lips. “Mmm…”you hummed, thumb searching for the button to turn off the toy. And when you pulled it away, he audibly groaned. Watching as a string of slick still connected you to the head of the vibrator. “I see lots of hearts here, pretties. You're gonna make it difficult to choose a winner.” you giggled, sitting forward a little as you scrolled. He held his breath as he awaited the verdict, his dick lying limp against his stomach. He'd clean himself up later.

“Hmmm, it seems that three of you spent and sent the same amount. Megadaddy00, callmepapa, and princ3charming.” His heart thumped when you addressed him but it clenched too, they'd all sent the same amount?

“Guess I'll have to choose,” you gave a pout to your lips. “Sorry pretties, I didn't expect three people to spend..” you looked at the amount, “$1,000 each.” Had he really spent that much? Choso was paying little attention. It's okay, he'd just take extra shifts. “How about this, give me three days mmkay? I'll announce the winner then.”

He would wait. For eternity if he had to, for you.

The next three days passed painfully slow. Especially since longer hours at work meant less time checking your social media. Your website. Anything for an update. He knew you said three days but, isn't he the obvious choice? He didn't want to wait anymore. So when he got home that day, he quickly made his way into his room. Not even bothering to take note of the ‘late rent’ note on the door. You were doing another show tonight. The answer had to come now.

He shrugged off his clothes, settling into bed, pulling out his laptop. As soon as he joined, so did you, your pretty face appearing on his screen.

“Hello, pretties. Thank you for being so patient. I know how much you wanna know who won.” Millions of messages popped up in the corner but he was too focused on you. He couldn't even bring himself away enough to tell you how pretty you looked again today. “I won't draw it out for much longer, the winner is….princ3charming!” You giggled, resting your elbows (and tits) on the table's surface. Did you just say…he won? All the blood drained from his face. His hands shook. Was this really happening?

“I'll call you privately after today's show to set up a time.”

Choso didn't think his heart could beat any louder than what it was currently doing. Thumping harshly against his chest.

Once more, Choso was left panting and sweaty. A mess of cum sitting on his tummy as his hazy eyes watched you. Even more excited now that he knew he'd get to see you. One on one. Talk to you, watch you. A show only for him. Fuck, the thought alone was enough to make him hard again. His spit covered palm slid up and down his length, leaving a mess clinging to his balls. You came too, your pretty pussy spasming around the faux cock you'd been thrusting in and out of you. A shiny sheen of liquid coated the toy when you slipped it out. You hummed, bringing it to your lips. Licking your own arousal off the toy.

“Fuck…fuck…” He whispered, stroking his dick even though it protested, leaving him to come very little. Choso was surprised his balls weren't completely drained yet.

“Thank you for joining, Pretties. And princ3charming? I'll be contacting you soon.” You gave your signature blow kiss before ending it. Choso was left with his mess, eyes glued to the screen as he waited. He wanted to clean up, but what if he missed your call while he did that? Choso couldn't risk it. So he sat in an uncomfortable mess of cum. A small chime came from his laptop, your small picture popping up in the middle.

Holy shit. He looked around nervously, teeth sinking into his lip as he pressed accept. It was just a voice call but fuck, he felt like he could pass out.

“Hello, princ3charming,” you cooed. And he didn't know how it was possible but his dick gave an excited twitch. “Hi…” God his voice sounded rough, scratchy. “Congratulations on your big win! When would you like to accept your prize?” More than anything, he wanted to say right now. To get to watch you lose yourself again. Making a mess that only he could see. But with one look at his poor, trying its best to harden dick, he thought against it. “Tomorrow…?”

“Tomorrow is perfect, around 8 work for you?” He nodded then mentally slapped himself since he knew you couldn't see him. “Yes…it's fine.”

“Wonderful, I'll see you then pretty.” His face heated and his dick jumped, again. And he could feel that you were going to hang up. “Wait!” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I made a mess…like you wanted.” Please be proud of him. Praise him. He loves you so much. You chuckled, “Did you now? You can show me firsthand tomorrow.” He heard a click before the call disconnected. Fuck. It was starting to get painful now, how badly his erection wanted to rise with need. But he couldn't, his poor cock was overused.

This wouldn't do. He needed to be ready for you. To show you, like you'd asked. Which means he'll have to hold off on touching himself until eight. No morning jerk offs to your video or imagining you riding him until you made a mess of him instead of those lackluster toys.

Tomorrow? He'd truly make you notice him.

Taglist: @adanfore, @matchafroggies724, @sabo-has-my-heart

[writtenbyjeanofarc]

・┆✦ 𝐍𝐎 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄 ✦┆・

Yandere! Blade X Reader | 1.4k

Author’s Note: Something new to practice my writing. Please don’t mind the cringe, I’m just trying to write for the sake of making it clear that I’m still active.

Warnings: mild possessive behavior.

A loud, thundering bang akin to an explosion echoed throughout the entirety of Xianzhou Loufu, its harmful impact colliding with your figure before you could even dodge the attack. All it took was one hit that instantly brought you to your knees, your limbs desensitized from external sources of throbbing pain. Blade was never one to give his opponents a chance to run, and your petite stature wasn’t one of his reasons to spare you mercy. Your eyes darted onto what appeared to be blood oozing from your hands, as if you were close to admitting defeat. Trembling past your fallen state, your eyebrows furrowed in an attempt to protest against Blade’s antics.

“You just don’t understand how it feels, do you?” you called out. “Out of millions of worthy enemies, you dared challenge me?”

Thankfully, you could still speak amidst your frail body struggling past the paralysis you were experiencing. Blade didn’t give you much time to recover, instead, he sneered against your ways of protest.

“I’m left with no other choice. You know the consequences of resisting further. I’ve requested that the Stellaron bring you to me peacefully without a fight breaking out. But since you refuse every time, I’m left with no other choice but to challenge you into a duel. And it turns out that you lost. So give it up.”

Blade’s steps grew more audible as they paced themselves menacingly towards your body, limp and weak on the ground. You couldn’t get up, it’d be against the rules of nature if you were ever able to get up. Bending over to bring himself towards you, you felt his hand wrap around your throat in an intensity he liked.

Blade let out a smirk, squeezing the sides gently while you looked up at him with a merciful expression.

“Don’t disappoint me.” he sneered. “After all, I never asked you to leave my side.”

You weren’t obliged to reply, only leading you to spit back at him as he chuckled condescendingly. You expected Blade to feel turned off by your antics, only for his vision to narrow as he eyed you from head to toe.

“A little feisty, are we?” Blade mocked. “Hah. This is what you get for running around in circles and resisting the Stellaron’s demands.”

“You’ll never own me,” you snapped. “I don’t care about how many duels I have to lose just to break free from seeing you. But reading the letter made me realize you only want me to ease your suffering. Which I refuse to do.”

“I don’t recall you winning a duel against the Stellaron Hunters.” Blade chuckled. “Like I said, I’ll always be haunting you provided your refusal to give in to my desires.”

“….And what desires do you have in mind for me?” you asked.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” Blade replied, grinning at your prideful stare that gave off a false sense of innocence. “After all, I don’t want to wait any longer. You’re coming with me.”

“Wh—“

With that, you winced in discomfort as Blade’s strength supported your weight. His arms gripping your waist and back, he picked you up just like that, without any ounce of effort whatsoever. Next thing you know, you were being lifted up like a baby bridal style, leaving you intimately exposed to his musky scent.

“Put me down, you freak!” you exclaimed.

“From now on, our relationship is going to change.” Blade said as he walked away with your body in his arms, amused at your refusal to admit defeat. “You’ll tell me everything about how your day went, from where you came from, and what you really want. You won’t hold back. You’re going to be in my property, and whoever gets in our way gets an answer from my sword. Do you understand?”

“Where do you think you’re going? Put me the fuck down! What I want is to be free from Stellaron Hunters like you!!!”

“I’m afraid that will pass on my watch. You’ll never leave me. I made up my mind that I shall keep you in my arms for as long as the Aeons allow us to be together. So don’t resist, [Name].”

“Where are we going?!” you asked.

“To a place far away that even the Astral Express won’t bother landing their eyes on you.”

“N-no!!! You can’t just take me away and do as you please!!!”

“And what if I can?”

“The Astral Express will find me no matter what. They’ll hunt you down, they’ll—“

“…Cower in defeat. That’s all they can do.” Blade interjected. “[Name], I’ve told you this a thousand times already. There’s not much you can do in that faction. I’ll always be there, watching you desperately before I can even have the time to play with you.”

“No, I won’t allow it! I’m not yours, and you’ll never beat the Astral Express on your own! This, I’m sure of it. Dan Heng will find you, and he’ll take his sweet time beating you at your own game.” you protested.

“And what if I said you’re mine?” Blade chuckled. “No matter what, I’ll always do everything it takes to win my battles fair and square. You’ll be there with me until death takes us, wouldn’t you, my dear?”

“You’ll never push me.” you said as you gritted your teeth. “Now put me down or I’ll have to do it myself.”

“Go ahead. Show me how weak you can be without my supervision. You’ll never survive the wrath of those enemies about to face you in the next life.”

“Fuck you.” you spat.

“You know, regardless of how ill you speak of me, none of that will change my mind. You’re going to be mine……and I’m going to take my sweet time claiming you as my property. So ease yourself up, can you? We’re on our way back home.”

Despite your attempts to escape, Blade tightened his grip so as to not make you fall by accident. You eventually gave in — not as a sign of admitting defeat, but because his strength was immeasurable to the point of overpowering yours.

“There’s no point in trying to escape, [Name].” Blade announced. “Give in to it. You’ll get so used to my company that you’ll wish you never met the Astral Express.”

“You’ll never win my trust.” you replied.

“Keep believing in that, we’ll see. I don’t mind not having you trust me completely this time, but let me tell you this. You’re not leaving anytime soon. Everything you do will be inspected further by the Stellaron, and you shall accept us as your new family….everything you once had with the Astral Express…..is now torn to pieces.”

Silence filled the air as the both of you ended up in his place. Not being able to say a single word, you carefully plotted your escape by knowing where to go the next time Blade left. You just had to muster every ounce of courage needed to break free, and staying oblivious to his household’s locks and locations was the last thing you wanted.

“From now on, you’re going to stay rightfully where you belong.” Blade commanded, finally putting you down after locking the doors. “If you need any further assistance, just call out my name.”

“Pfffft.” you scoffed.

“And don’t forget…..” Blade added, approaching you bluntly with a sharp frown. “You’re not leaving this place. Everything I say goes. You won’t complain. You won’t push me.”

“You’re fucked up.” you hissed.

“I’m not fucked up, I just know what I want. And I want you…..Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking the Astral Express down as instructed.”

“No, anything but—!!!!”

Blade hissed back, instantly pouncing towards you and wrapping his hand around your throat. Your ability to speak was hindered with his heavy breath.

“You won’t try me now, will you, [Name]? Dan Heng has imposed a serious threat against my every move. If I find out about his existence roaming around this place, he will only know death. And you’ll never interfere. You’ll never protest. Because after all, I don’t recall allowing you to leave.”

Your gulps and struggles were heard in response to Blade’s sudden hostility towards you, his anger and inhibited desire evident in those eyes. Leaning closer towards you, he opened his mouth to speak before your ear.

“You know you want this. I can give you more pleasure than you can bear, something far better than that pathetic excuse of a man. Dan Heng and March 7th will never stand a chance against my undying passion to have you around me. And you’ll never falter under my command, will you? Well, it’s not like you have any other choice. You’re all mine now, after all.”

[fashionteahouse]

Could i get a paul x reader where the reader gets hurt and paul is super protective?

yesss 🙂‍↕️💜 hope you enjoy :)

even if it hurts - paul x reader

The handle bars was gripped tight under your fingers as your head looks back, behind you, to see Quil catching right up to you. Pedaling fast to get to Emily’s first, you speed up with your bicycle.

Laughing at your soon victory, you began to get cocky. Quil had bet you couldn’t beat him in a race against him. Your competitive spirit wanted to prove him wrong so badly.

Paul didn’t think it was a good idea, but you insisted that everything would be okay. It was only bikes.

Turning your head once more, to see if he caught up, you look to see him having some distance from you still.

A big hill was ahead and you wanted to speed through it since after it, was Emily’s home. Pushing your feet on the pedals, you’re zooming down the hill. Things were okay until the wobbling of your handlebars are too much for you to find balance. You kick your pedals backwards to stop but you soon find yourself falling off of your bike.

Scraping your elbow and your knee, you grimace with pain. Your bike skids down the hill as Quil smoothly stops his bike with a worried expression on his face.

“Y/N, are you alright?” he asks and kneels beside you and help you up carefully. He mind was worrying about how Paul would react.

“I’m…okay.” you say, to convince him and yourself. The burning sensation forms as Quil helps walk you down the hill as you wince. You limp with Quil through the front door and Paul catches sight at the both of you as he turns his head to the door.

He rushes over, finding your face contorted with discomfort and Quil helping you.

“What happened?” Paul demands, already giving glares to Quil.

“I fell off my bike. I’m alright.” you tell him.

“No, you’re not alright.” he says and swoops you up in his arms and faces Quil with annoyance, “I got it.”

Quil leaves back out to wheel your bike back from where it was left.

Dabbing the cotton ball soaked diluted disinfectant on your scrapes, he tells you to grip onto him whenever it hurts. His face never changes. A look of disquiet and concern is permanently painted on his face.

With you bandaged up, he still doesn’t allow you to walk. Carrying you bridal style from the bathroom to the sitting room and you tell him, “I can walk, Paul.”

But he was sticking to his guns, “You’re more safe when I have you.”

“Can I at least get myself something to drink?” you tell him as he carefully placed you on the recliner, extending the leg rest part of it out and placing a pillow underneath your scraped up knee to elevate it.

“I’ll get it, what do you want?” he says, not even allowing you to get the thought in your head to get up.

When you take the glass from him, he doesn’t sit on the other couches or seats, he’s sitting right next to you on the floor.

“Paul, you don’t have to sit down right there. It’s uncomfortable.” you say, eyeing the hard floor, there’s no way he can comfortably lounge that way.

“I’ll be okay. You need to sit back and relax while you heal.” he tells you.

You sigh softly, as some of the pack snickers.

“She didn’t break her leg.” comments Jared.

“Doesn’t matter.” Paul blatantly says, not even trying to move an inch.

“I’m not going to fall out of the chair. I promise I’m okay, even if it hurts.” you try to tell him.

“Not risking it.” he says, still adamant about being leaving your side.

He kept glancing at you as you both watched television. You had childhood scrapes and bruises as a kid so you didn’t think too much of it. But with Paul, it was a big deal. He hated the aspect of you being hurt in any way, shape, or form. As for Quil, you weren’t allowed to go alone with him unless Paul was there, not wanting a repeat of your injuries. He felt like you were more safe with him.

[storiesabouteli]

Amid Cares. // Elijah Hewson X Reader! (Fluff)

prompt: You are sick (kidney crisis) and Eli stays with you! Dealing with the fact that you're used to not needing anyone, and Eli will have to handle that.

words: 2,3k.

Eli slept with his mouth slightly open. He didn’t snore, but made a soft, comforting whistling sound. You wrapped your arms around his torso, wishing the pain would just fade away. Before falling asleep, you had told Eli you weren’t feeling well. He nodded, suggesting you could eat in the morning. You didn’t like worrying him, yet you liked how concerned he became for you. His brows furrowed, and he had this gentle look—it was kind of funny. “Do you want me to make something else for you?” He ran his hand over your shoulders, which were indeed warm, and he wondered why he hadn’t noticed earlier.

You had a sandwich he’d made sitting in front of you, but it felt impossible to eat, even if you wanted to. You stared at the pastel-colored plate, biting your lip, reminding yourself it hadn’t even been a week since you moved in together, and there you were, already about to mark this moment with chaos. “I’m just tired, I need to sleep, El.” He nodded, eyeing you like someone watching a child tell a lie. You didn’t catch much of what he said—couldn’t really string the words together—but he handed you a painkiller and lay down next to you.

The room was dark, his faint post-shower scent lingered, his arm was wrapped around you while your face was buried in his chest. It felt therapeutic, like it might work. Then, minutes later, you were staring into the void, trying to convince yourself the pain would ease, though it was only getting worse. Eli’s dark circles were more noticeable than usual (he never actually had them), and he usually fell asleep fast, yet he spent the night massaging your back and kissing your forehead until you finally dozed off and he could do the same. It was unfair.

“El,” you sighed deeply; moving your body felt like a chore. You cupped his face, looking at him, repeating his name with a heavy chest. “El, babe, I think I need to see a doctor.” Your weak, cracked voice made him open his eyes quickly. His hands moved through your hair, then down your back.

He was groggy, his curls slightly undone. You were hotter than before, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” he whispered, sitting up with you still pressed against his chest. He paused, expecting a little laugh from you, but it didn’t come. You shivered from the cold, wondering if he noticed just how much you avoided causing trouble. “El,” you weren’t sure if you were going to answer—your body felt limp, like a silent cry for help. His lips touched your forehead, and he gently laid you down on the pillow, chuckling softly in solidarity, making you believe everything would be okay.

He knew how much you hated hospitals—more than most people—and it triggered a quiet discomfort in him. “It’s all good, huh? I’ll grab a coat for you, and we’ll go.” You nodded, feeling his lips warm against your skin too. He moved calmly around the room, which was usual compared to you. Well, on closer look, he wasn’t exactly calm; he just didn’t want to make you panic, and it was working. You were feeling less anxious, not imagining worst-case scenarios.

He opened the wardrobe, knowing exactly where you’d placed your documents, and grabbed what was needed. You found it endearing that he remembered, especially since the house was still new for both of you. Despite your back feeling like it was falling apart, you smiled at him, even if just a little.

…

Eli walked with you to the car and made you comfortable in the seat, at least as much as possible. He turned on the radio, just random people talking, but it gave you new things to focus on. It was a quick trip, every now and then, you could feel his eyes on you; still, you didn't speak or open your eyes. The sound helped, although it was becoming hard to ease your pain. "El, it hurts a lot." He heard your words come out cold; your intention was to verbalize it, as if saying it out loud would make it pass.

He pressed his hand against your abdomen; his touch was comforting, and the warmth of his body felt good. Your head settled better against the pillow, and you realized you had lost track of time. You were aware of how you got there; you just couldn't clearly recall each step in your mind. Tears welled up in your eyes, panic leaving Eli a bit breathless.

"Shh, babe. It’s not going to be anything serious, you’ll see, right? They’ll medicate you, check that it’s nothing serious, and soon we’ll be home." He looked pale, but his voice was steady. You wonder if Eli would be good with kids? He wrapped his arm tighter around your waist, and even though your head hurt too, nothing seemed to improve, despite the adrenaline.

Eli ended up sitting beside you, resting his cheek on your belly, holding your hand, and gazing at your face. His thumb traced patterns on your skin, every now and then, he rubbed his face against you. You heard him sigh, a slight exchange of smiles; honestly, panicking only made it worse. Having Eli there, working hard to provide new stimuli for your brain and giving a gentle nudge to your stubborn neurons, was helping a lot.

You placed your hand on his head, weaving your fingers through his curls, which made him close his eyes, until a nurse entered the room, asking about your condition and pain level. You answered modestly, and Eli let out a breath of denial. "It hurts more than that; it started last night. The ibuprofen from yesterday didn’t last two hours; it just kept escalating ‘til it became unbearable." His voice sounded hoarse, tired yet alert. He glanced at his phone, and you smiled through a moan, noticing he had written down the time you took your last dose and when you would need to take it again. The nurse laughed too, thanking him.

"Sure," she said, glancing between you and Eli with a friendly expression. "What exactly are you feeling? Did it come on suddenly?" She continued, mentioning that she’d be back with some medication in a few minutes. You took a deep breath, briefly meeting her eyes before turning to Eli, who was holding your hand. You hadn’t expected it to escalate this much, but you knew what it was—and that you’d have to admit you'd been neglecting it a little. No excuses, you had just prioritized other things.

The silence was short, but in those few moments, despite her caution, you felt judged, as if your own thoughts were weighing you down. You felt guilty for not telling Eli sooner. You hadn’t wanted to burden him; he had his own life. "Do you want some space? I can wait in the hallway," he offered gently. You shook your head, his calm gaze steady on you. You didn’t want him to leave.

"The pain is in my lower back," you said, starting to sit up before she could help. Eli was quicker, steadying you himself. "I’ve had a lot of cramping, abdominal pain too, nausea, and I’ve been urinating frequently." Your eyes lingered on Eli’s hands, still interlaced with yours, his thumb moving in soothing circles. He didn’t know everything, but maybe he should have—he always asked, after all.

"Is this the first time?" she asked, preparing the needle. You turned your face into Eli's sweater, not wanting to watch. He kissed the top of your head, his touch as gentle as ever, without a trace of anger. "No," you sighed. "Well, maybe not this bad before. But now, it really hurts. I should’ve taken better care..."

"Yeah," she said, honestly. "Do you think it's a kidney issue?" she ventured, though it was already clear that it likely was, though understandable that it could have been something else. You nodded, "I’ve been growing a few stones." You stayed still as Eli’s broad fingers gently traced your arms. You had found out about this months ago—it was something you should have shared, something he would have shared with you. Now, it felt like a lie you’d been keeping.

The nurse gave you a light scolding, which you accepted as deserved, and Eli chuckled, promising to keep an eye on you. Since you hadn’t updated anyone on your condition recently, they said you’d need to stay under observation for a while. She left the room with the clipboard, and Eli answered a few more personal details about you. For some reason, that made you smile at nothing in particular. The medication was finally kicking in.

When the door clicked shut, you closed your eyes for a moment. Eli's hand rested on your abdomen, his lips pressed light, repetitive kisses to your forehead until a small smile broke through your discomfort. "Still hurting, poppy?" His voice was cautious, eyes slightly watery, the tip of his nose red. He wasn’t crying—maybe he was sad—but mostly, he looked exhausted. "No," you whispered, a little afraid of what would come next. You couldn’t meet his gaze.

"Are you tired?" His fingers brushed your cheek, and he noticed you weren’t warm anymore, visibly relieved. You felt the weight lift off his shoulders. "Kind of, but the pain is finally going away." He nodded. His expression was unreadable, but you felt an obligation to look at him, to talk about it, though you knew he would bring it up later.

"I'm sorry, I feel like a liar." Your eyes filled with tears, and you weren’t quite sure why. "You just kept it to yourself. I wish you’d told me. I would’ve taken care of you, given you support, you know?" He wasn't angry, and you knew he’d always be there for you, but the feeling was strange nonetheless.

"I can handle this on my own. It’s not something you need to worry about, El." Your words came out bitter, but they flowed naturally. This was how you usually were. Eli had gotten used to it, knowing it would take time for you to open up that side of yourself. He gave a small smile, and you figured he wasn’t mad because he was still so close to you, both in presence and touch.

"I didn’t mean for it to come out that way..." you added, but he squeezed your hand, signaling that he understood. "I know you can handle things on your own, but I don’t want you to have to. I don’t really get why you try so hard not to need me, like you’re some kind of burden. The thing is," he paused, swallowing to get rid of the lump in his throat. His words were steady, even as he took a few heavier breaths, "I’m here because I want to be, whether you like it or not," he smiled, and you laughed, following the light in his eyes. "You’re not a burden at all, I’d do it all over again."

You took his words in, studying his face softly. "You need to remind me to drink water; it’s not as simple as it seems." He laughed quietly, the sound filling the room with warmth. He assured you he would.

Your body felt more relaxed now, both from what Eli had said and the effect of the medication. Sleep was creeping in, fatigue from the discomfort finally catching up. The bed was spacious, and you didn’t expect it, but Eli sat beside you, awkwardly positioning himself next to you and wrapping his arm around you to make sure you were comfortable.

"Are you staying the night?" you asked, his chest vibrating comfortingly against you. He nodded, as if it were obvious to him, though not as much to you. "Shouldn’t you tell the guys you won’t be there tomorrow?" You lifted yourself a little to look at him, a sudden mental reminder popping up. He simply guided your head back to his shoulder, stroking your hair.

"I told them before you fell asleep at home. I wasn’t planning on going," he murmured. Knowing you were his priority made your body tingle, but not in a bad way. It was unfamiliar, but good. Hearing him refer to your place as "home" made you happy.

You nestled closer to him, your hand slipping under his shirt to feel the warmth of his waist as he held you tightly. "I’m glad you’re here, El." Speaking it aloud was your way of letting him know how much you appreciated everything, even if it seemed normal to him. And Eli knew you needed someone there—the way you gripped his hand, the fearful look in your eyes. He had heard your stories, learned about your discomfort in these settings. He could easily picture you waking up in a few hours, each test making your mind jump to new conclusions about your condition. He wanted to be there for you, and he would be.

"It’s fine, but just to be clear, I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to." You chuckled, your mind growing calm as his fingers worked their way into your hair. This time, it was the steady hum of your body that made him feel more grounded.

[pygmi-cygni]

Cold Feet - sickfic w joel miller

@chaithetics this is for you! xox feel better

cw: general injury/sickness recovery fic, nothing graphic but mentions of nausea, pain, dizziness, fainting, cute stuff idk, not really established relationship but joel be crushin fr fr

The dingy wallpaper swam in lazy eddies. You'd been laying on the couch, curled in the fetal position for hours, staring listlessly at the badly stained floral walls. The faded roses and lilies were swaying in an imaginary wind, fluttering in the woozy aftereffects of the pain meds.

It had only been an hour since your last dose, but you still felt like a rusted knife had ripped through your abdomen. A combination of a bad knife wound and the subsequent infection had incapacitated you for all of yesterday and today. If you had any rational thought, you'd be bored stupid. Instead, you were just drugged stupid.

Honestly, not much of a difference.

After staggering home from the med tent, you laid your meds, water, and two tureens of watery broth. That way, you didn't have to stumble to the kitchen every time you got hungry. Though even turning over to fumble with the pill bottle set fire to your belly.

The darkness of sleep sucked your mind into nothing as you blissfully lost consciousness.

Shhp. Shhhhp. Shhhh-

the sliding of something across your floor stirred your syrupy mind. Wincing as bright sunlight stabbed your aching head, you tried to focus blearily on the figure in front of you.

He - you assumed - was dressed in heavy clothes and grunting like a wounded bear.

"Joel?" Your voice sounded hideous, creaking like the wind in the trees. His familiar mop of curls startled, and he turned to look at you. He looked mildly ashamed, you thought, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Hey, sugar," he rasped, pausing what he was doing to limp over. "Didn't mean to wake ya."

You tried to raise your head but another sludgy wave of pain forced you to mash your face in the cushions. A pathetic whimper was muffled by the corduroy.

"You look a little rough, honey," he said, stooping to brush the hair from your face. You flinched a little at the sudden contact, sparks lighting at the point of contact.

Joel soothed an apology and went to close the blinds. "Tommy said you were down for the count, so I thought I'd stop by," he said hoarsely, blessedly dimming the light to darkness. You sagged with relief. Joel's soothing drawl rambled about his day while he sick-proofed your little room; placing a metal bowl for easy reach, grabbing a blanket from the adjacent bedroom, and replacing your water with fresh, cool water.

"Let me," he whispered, carefully maneuvering you into the sitting position so you could have some slow sips of broth. The movement made your chest throb, and you huffed in pain. A soothing hand stroked your hair. You could smell him, woodsy and warm on his flannel. Trembling from the roiling pain of your wound, you tucked yourself against his broad chest. Joel took the hint, and gently placed a pill in your open mouth.

You felt a little embarrassed, being this dependent on him to do something as simple as drink soup. You tried to voice your apology, but your weak state jumbled the sentence into slurred mumbles. Joel shushed you, rubbing your shoulder.

"'S alright," he murmured, "happy to help." Easing a drink of blissfully cool water down your throat, he gently lifted you and headed towards your bedroom. The light bouncing made you wince, but the soft brushed of his lips on your hair eased any discomfort.

"You'll feel better on a real bed."

You groaned weakly when your head hit the pillow. Joel tucked the sheets and blankets all the way to your chin, eyes soft and worried. "You been out a while, huh, baby?"

At your weak agreement he nodded and continued to smooth his hand over your sweaty brow.

"We'll fix ya up, don' worry about it," he assured, kissing the tears from your cheeks.

Lighting a sweet-smelling candle, he murmured a goodnight and left for evening patrol.

Hours later, he came trudging back. The gentle creak of the wardrobe as he hung up his jacket and rifle roused you, but only slightly. His warm touch and the feeling of his chest against your back rolled you right back under.

[muiitoloko]

Your sentence

Summary: Turpin and his wife deal with their pregnancy, and have some quality time together, before he pronounces her sentence.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, pregnant sex, smut, nausea and self-criticism.

Author's Notes: Greetings, esteemed audience! Welcome back to the latest escapades of Turpin and his bun-in-the-oven wife. Believe it or not, I actually managed to pen this chapter in the ungodly hours of dawn, and wait for it... I even gave it a makeover! *Busts out into an impromptu victory dance* Now, here's the million-dollar question: Is Turpin still recognizable, or have I accidentally turned him into a unicorn-loving, tea-sipping ninja? Your feedback is as precious as gold, so spill the beans.

First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, Eighth and Ninth part here.

As you sat in the bathtub, the warm water soothing your tired muscles, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relaxation wash over you. The maid's gentle ministrations as she rubbed your back only added to the blissful sensation, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully indulge in the moment.

However, your peaceful reverie was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening, and you tensed as you heard Turpin's stoic voice. You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there, his expression impassive as he observed the scene before him.

"Taking quite a long time with your bath, aren't you?" he remarked, his tone cool and detached.

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, knowing that you had been indulging in the luxury of the bath for longer than usual. "I-I'm sorry, Richard," you stammered, quickly attempting to apologize. "I'll be finished soon, I promise."

But Turpin ignored your apology, waving the maid to leave. The maid quickly excused herself and left the room, leaving you alone with your husband. His intense gaze bore into you, and you felt yourself becoming nervous under his scrutiny. Instinctively, you wanted to hide from him, but you knew that Turpin didn't like it when you hid.

As he walked closer, you couldn't help but notice the slight limp in his step, a reminder of the pain he was still experiencing from the previous night. You bit your lip, feeling a surge of guilt at the sight of his discomfort.

"What are you doing?" you asked, unable to stop yourself from voicing your curiosity as Turpin began to undress.

Turpin sighed lightly, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "Taking a shower," he replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It'll be quicker if we both shower together."

You blinked in surprise at his suggestion, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. "Oh," you mumbled, feeling foolish for not realizing his intentions sooner.

Turpin chuckled softly at your reaction, though there was a warmth in his eyes that you hadn't seen before. "You always did have a knack for asking obvious questions," he teased gently, his voice lacking its usual edge of cruelty.

You nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of relief at Turpin's lighter demeanor. As he finished undressing, revealing his half-hard cock, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness at the prospect of showering together.

Turpin noticed your hesitation and stepped closer, his gaze softening as he reached out to cup your cheek tenderly. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle and caring. "I know things have been difficult between us, but I want you to know that I'm trying. I really am."

Touched by his sincerity, you leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of warmth spreading through your chest. "I know, Richard," you replied softly, meeting his gaze with an earnest expression. "And I appreciate it more than you know."

With a small smile, Turpin settled into the bathtub across from you and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that the tub was spacious enough for both of you. The warm water enveloped you both, soothing away the tensions of the day and allowing you to relax in each other's company.

"Is your hip still bothering you?" you asked softly, your voice filled with genuine concern as you reached out to gently touch Turpin's thigh.

Turpin nodded slightly, his expression thoughtful. "A little," he admitted reluctantly. "But it's much better after the healing ointment. Thank you for that."

You smiled warmly at his gratitude, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having been able to provide him with some measure of relief. As Turpin leaned back in the bathtub, he motioned for you to come closer, his gaze softening as he met your eyes.

"Come here," he murmured, his voice gentle and inviting. "I want you to bathe me."

Your heart fluttered at his request, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins. Swallowing back your apprehension, you obeyed, getting on your knees in the bathtub and inching closer to Turpin until you were within arm's reach.

As you reached out to cup water in your hands and pour it over Turpin's chest, you couldn't help but notice the gray strands mingling with the black hair that covered his chest. Despite his imposing demeanor, there was a vulnerability in the way he allowed you to care for him, a vulnerability that touched something deep within you.

Turpin watched you intently as you bathed him, his gaze lingering on your breasts, which seemed fuller today than they had yesterday. A flicker of desire flashed in his eyes, and you felt a flush of heat spreading across your cheeks at the realization that he was observing you so closely.

With steady hands, you continued to bathe Turpin, washing away the day's grime and tension as you worked. His skin was warm and smooth beneath your touch, a stark contrast to the rough exterior he often presented to the world.

As you reached up to wash his face, Turpin leaned into your touch, his eyes closing in contentment. You couldn't help but marvel at the intimacy of the moment, the simple act of caring for each other forging a connection between you that felt stronger than any words could convey.

However, your peaceful moment was shattered when you suddenly felt something warm trickling down your chest. Startled, you looked down, your eyes widening in disbelief as you realized that you were leaking breast milk again. Gasping at the unexpected sensation, you quickly withdrew your hands from Turpin's body, feeling a surge of embarrassment washing over you.

Turpin, noticing your sudden movement, opened his eyes to look at you, his expression shifting from relaxation to curiosity. His gaze fell upon your leaking breasts, and a flicker of surprise crossed his features before a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was almost as if he found the sight of you leaking milk to be divine, stirring something primal within him.

As you attempted to excuse yourself from the bathtub, flustered and embarrassed by the situation, Turpin reached out to stop you, his voice low and commanding. "No," he insisted, his tone firm. "Stay."

You hesitated, unsure of what to do, but Turpin's unwavering gaze held you in place. With a reluctant sigh, you acquiesced, settling back into the warm water as Turpin's eyes lingered on your leaking breasts.

Feeling self-conscious under his intense scrutiny, you tried to divert his attention away from your embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, Richard," you stammered, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I don't know why this keeps happening."

Turpin's expression softened as he reached out to gently caress your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his usual demeanor. "There's nothing to apologize for," he reassured you, his voice soothing. "It's a natural part of pregnancy and childbirth. Besides, I find it... intriguing."

You blinked in surprise at his admission, unsure of how to respond to his unexpected reaction. Turpin, noticing your uncertainty, leaned in closer, his gaze darkening with desire as he reached out to cup your leaking breast in his hand.

The sensation of his touch sent a shiver of arousal coursing through you, and you couldn't help but gasp at the intimate contact. Turpin's eyes gleamed with hunger as he watched the milk dribble from your nipple, his own arousal evident as his gaze flickered down to the growing bulge between his legs.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Turpin leaned forward, his lips capturing your leaking nipple in a hungry kiss. You gasped at the sudden contact, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body as Turpin began to suckle greedily at your breast.

His rough, yet surprisingly skilled ministrations left you breathless, your hands instinctively tangling in his hair as you arched your back, offering yourself up to him completely. Turpin groaned around your nipple, his own arousal evident as his cock throbbed against your thigh, desperate for release.

As Turpin continued to suckle at your breast, his movements growing more urgent and desperate with each passing moment, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. The combination of his touch and the warmth of the water surrounding you sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, threatening to consume you entirely.

With a primal growl, Turpin released your nipple from his mouth, his eyes dark with desire as he met your gaze. "I need you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with raw need. "Now."

You nodded eagerly, your own desire burning hot and fierce within you as you reached out to guide Turpin's throbbing cock towards your aching core. With a shared gasp of pleasure, he entered you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely as he claimed you as his own.

The sensation of being joined with him in such an intimate way was overwhelming, and you cried out in ecstasy as he began to move within you, his movements strong and sure as he drove you both towards the edge of oblivion.

Lost in the throes of ecstasy, you began to move with him, your hips rising and falling in rhythm with his thrusts. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, driving you closer and closer to the edge of blissful release.

Turpin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as he continued to suckle at your breast, his other hand trailing teasingly down your spine. You gasped at the intimate contact, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you that burned hotter and brighter with each passing moment.

You continued bouncing on your husband's cock, enjoying the wave of pleasure building inside you, as Turpin released your nipple and buried his nose between your breasts, inhaling deeply as if he was trying to imprint your scent into his memory. The sensation sent shivers of pleasure throughout your body, and you couldn't help but whimper in response, desperate for more of his touch.

Turpin held your hips tightly, his movements growing slower and more deliberate as he fought to prolong the exquisite torture of your shared pleasure. He knew he couldn't last much longer at his age, and he was determined to savor every moment of your intimacy together.

You whimpered in frustration, craving the release that seemed just out of reach. But Turpin held you firmly in place, his grip unyielding as he slowed his movements to a tantalizing pace. The ache between your legs grew more intense with each passing second, driving you to the brink of madness as you begged for mercy.

As you felt the familiar coil of pleasure building within you, you couldn't help but plead with Turpin, desperate for him not to deny you your orgasm once again. "Please, Richard," you whimpered, your voice thick with need. "Don't stop. I need to cum. Please."

Turpin's expression softened slightly at your plea, his baritone voice low and husky as he complied with your request. Without a word, he pressed his thumb against your swollen clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles as he continued to thrust into you.

The sensation was electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. With each stroke of Turpin's thumb, you felt the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, driving you closer and closer to the brink of release.

And then, finally, it happened. With a shuddering gasp, you felt the wave of orgasm wash over you, your entire body convulsing with pleasure as you clung to Turpin desperately. He watched you intently, his gaze filled with satisfaction as he held you close, reveling in the sight of your surrender.

As you collapsed against him, panting and exhausted from the intensity of your climax, Turpin waited patiently for you to catch your breath. With a gentle hand, he encouraged you to climb out of him, and you did so reluctantly, watching him curiously as he stood up from the tub, you standing up as well, confused.

But before you could react, Turpin grabbed your shoulder and pushed you down, forcing you to your knees. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked up at him, a mixture of apprehension and arousal coursing through you. Turpin instructed you to keep your breasts together, his voice low and commanding as he expressed his desire to cum on them.

You obeyed without hesitation, though a part of you found the request to be somewhat dirty. But Turpin seemed to revel in the idea, his eyes dark with desire as he grabbed his penis with his fist and began to touch himself.

The sight of your pregnant wife on her knees in front of him, holding her beautiful breasts together for him, was enough to send Turpin over the edge. With a primal growl, he released himself, his hot seed spurting out in thick, white ribbons as it landed on your waiting chest.

You gasped at the sensation, feeling the warm liquid coating your skin as Turpin continued to stroke himself, milking every last drop of pleasure from his release. He watched you intently, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he took in the sight of you covered in his cum.

As the last of his orgasm faded, Turpin finally released his grip on his cock, letting it fall limp against his thigh. With a satisfied sigh, he reached out to help you out of the tub, his touch surprisingly gentle as he guided you to your feet.

Despite the lingering sense of dirtiness that lingered in the air, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having pleased Turpin. And as you stood there, chest heaving and skin glistening with his cum, you couldn't help but wonder what other pleasures lay in store for you both.

Days later, the atmosphere between you and Turpin remained charged with tension, yet there was a subtle shift in his demeanor towards you. While he still maintained his authoritarian and cruel facade, there were moments of unexpected kindness and gentleness that he reserved exclusively for you.

Today was one of those rare days when Turpin seemed determined to be good to you, despite his usual impatience and short temper. You were feeling particularly unwell due to the pregnancy, the mere smell of food making you nauseous, and your emotions were on edge, causing you to cry at the slightest provocation.

And Turpin had been surprisingly patient with your mood swings, but as the day wore on, even his patience began to wear thin. The sound of your constant crying grated on his nerves, testing the limits of his resolve to be kind to you.

That night, as you sat in the opulent dining room of your mansion, eating the food with little appetite, Turpin's patience was finally reaching its limit. He listened impatiently as you sobbed uncontrollably, your tears flowing freely as you lamented feeling fat and unattractive.

Despite his efforts to remain calm, Turpin couldn't help but feel frustrated by your outburst. He had tried his best to be understanding and supportive, but your constant emotional turmoil was starting to fray the last of his patience. But Turpin controlled himself not to say anything, his jaw clenched as he continued eating. His patience had worn thin, worn threadbare by the relentless stream of tears and self-deprecating remarks that seemed to flow endlessly from you. Every sob felt like a dagger to his already frayed nerves, but he held his tongue, unwilling to lash out in anger.

But later, when the two of you retreated to the privacy of your bedroom, your tears continued to flow unabated. You sat on the edge of the bed, your shoulders shaking with each sob as you lamented feeling fat and unattractive. The weight of your pregnancy seemed to hang heavily on you, and Turpin could see the toll it was taking on your self-esteem.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Turpin rose from his seat on the bed, his expression dark and brooding. He crossed the room with purposeful strides, his baritone voice low and menacing as he approached you.

With a firm hand, Turpin pulled you out of bed and forced you to look in the mirror, your head throbbing from the strength of his grip on your hair. As you whimpered in pain, your eyes met his in the reflection, searching for some semblance of mercy in his dark, brooding gaze.

"You are mine," Turpin growled, his voice a low rumble of suppressed anger. "And no one insults something that is mine. Do you fucking understand? I'm tired of hearing your damn cries!"

You nodded meekly, unable to muster the courage to speak as Turpin's harsh words echoed in your ears. His cruelty was a reminder of the power he held over you, a power that both terrified and fascinated you in equal measure.

But then, to your surprise, Turpin's demeanor softened slightly as he released his grip on your hair, his hand moving to cup your chin. Through the mirror, you met his gaze, confusion and apprehension swirling in your eyes.

Instead of berating you further, Turpin spoke with unexpected tenderness. "Look at yourself," he instructed, his voice gentle yet firm. "You're not fat. You're pregnant, carrying my child. You should be proud, not criticizing yourself."

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, your eyes misting with unshed tears at his unexpected kindness. Turpin's words struck a chord deep within you, reminding you of the precious life growing inside you and the love you shared with him, despite the complexities of your relationship.

Turpin's hand lingered on your chin, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek as he continued to speak. "You look beautiful pregnant," he murmured, his voice tinged with genuine admiration. "You don't know how much it turns me on. You drive me crazy, damn woman."

A blush spread across your cheeks at his words, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal flooding through you. Turpin's desire for you was both thrilling and intimidating, awakening a hunger within you that you didn't fully understand.

Before you could stop yourself, you hesitated, biting your lip nervously before voicing a hesitant request. "Richard," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Could... could you... fuck me in front of this mirror?"

Turpin's eyes darkened with desire at your request, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You want to see yourself, don't you?" he murmured, his voice low and husky with anticipation. "Well, who am I to refuse such a request?"

With that, Turpin moved away from you and began to undress, his movements slow and deliberate as he watched you through the mirror. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, the sight of his muscular frame and thick, gray-streaked chest hair sending a shiver of excitement down your spine.

Emboldened by his response, you obeyed his unspoken command and began to undress as well, your hands trembling slightly as you shed your clothes. Turpin watched you intently, his gaze filled with hunger as he waited for you to join him.

When you were both naked, Turpin caught you from behind in front of the full-length mirror, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he positioned you to his liking. You held onto the frame of the mirror for support, your heart racing with anticipation as you prepared yourself for penetration.

But Turpin surprised you, dropping to his knees behind you and burying his face between your thighs. You leaned forward, gasping in surprise as his tongue delved between your thighs, exploring your folds with fervent determination. Your grip on the mirror frame tightened as waves of pleasure washed over you, your moans echoing in the spacious room.

Turpin's hands spread your ass cheeks apart, granting him better access to your dripping slit. His tongue worked wonders, licking and kissing every inch of your sensitive flesh, coaxing delicious sounds of pleasure from your lips. You couldn't help but arch your back, pushing your hips back against him, craving more of his tantalizing touch.

"R-richard," you moaned his name, the sound coming out as a breathless plea for more. His response was a deep growl of approval, his ministrations growing more fervent as he teased and taunted your throbbing clit.

Lost in the throes of ecstasy, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the pleasure coursing through your veins. But Turpin's voice cut through the haze of pleasure, commanding you to keep your eyes open if you wanted to see yourself.

With a gasp, you obeyed his directive, forcing your eyes open to gaze upon your reflection in the mirror. The sight of yourself, flushed and panting with desire, only served to heighten the intensity of the moment, sending a shiver of arousal coursing through you.

Turpin stood up behind you, his erect penis glistening with your juices as he spread them along his length. He commented on how hard you made him, his voice thick with desire as he confessed the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind.

"You torment me, you know," he murmured huskily, his breath hot against your ear. "Every moment I spend with you, I ache to possess you completely. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to walk around with an erection, knowing that you're the cause of it?"

His words sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you, igniting a fire deep within your core. Turpin's desire for you was intoxicating, drawing you further into the depths of passion with each passing moment.

With a primal growl, Turpin positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he prepared to claim you as his own. You braced yourself for the inevitable onslaught of pleasure, knowing that with Turpin, there was no escaping the overwhelming intensity of his desire.

Turpin entered you slowly, his thick, hard cock sliding into your wetness with deliberate intent. You moaned softly at the sensation of being filled by him, your walls clenching around him eagerly. But when Turpin noticed your eyes closed, he reached out and tugged on your hair, pulling you back with a growl.

"Keep your eyes in the mirror," he commanded, his voice low and demanding. "I want you to watch as I fuck you, every thrust, every moan."

You whimpered at his words, a shiver of arousal coursing through you as Turpin used your hair as leverage, pulling you against his cock. "Yes, Judge Turpin," you gasped, your voice filled with need. "I'll keep my eyes on you, Your Honor."

Turpin's grip tightened on your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he began to pound into you with increasing intensity. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, driving you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"You're so beautiful," Turpin murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Absolutely beautiful. How could you ever think you were anything less than that?"

You moaned at his words, the sensation of his cock filling you completely overwhelming your senses. Turpin's hands roamed over your body possessively, tracing the curves of your hips and waist as he claimed you as his own.

With each thrust, Turpin's cock hit that sweet spot deep within you, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You couldn't help but moan his name, the sound filling the room as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure he provided.

"Judge Turpin," you cried out, your voice filled with longing. "Your Honor, please... fuck me harder."

Turpin's growl of approval echoed in the room as he complied with your request, his thrusts becoming even more intense as he pounded into you relentlessly. You lost yourself in the rhythm of his movements, the pleasure building within you until you felt like you were on the brink of madness.

As Turpin's cock continued to pound into you, you felt the coil of pleasure tightening within you, threatening to consume you entirely. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing as he released himself in a powerful climax.

You cried out in ecstasy as you felt his hot seed spilling inside you, filling you with a sense of completion and satisfaction. Turpin held you tightly against him, his grip unyielding as he continued to thrust into you, prolonging the exquisite torture of your shared pleasure.

"Your Honor," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm yours, completely yours."

Turpin's only response was a satisfied growl as he continued to claim you as his own, each thrust driving you both further into the depths of passion and desire. In that moment, you knew that despite the complexities of your relationship, there was a connection between you and Turpin that transcended everything else.

As Turpin calmed himself inside you, his movements slowing and becoming more tender, he reached down to rub your clit gently, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from your lips. You arched your back, pressing closer to him as he watched your expression of pure ecstasy through the mirror, his eyes filled with admiration and desire.

"Beautiful, absolutely beautiful," Turpin murmured, his voice filled with genuine affection as he held you close. With one hand supporting your belly where the baby was growing, he continued to soothe you through your orgasm, his touch gentle and reassuring.

In that moment, Turpin couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt wash over him. He knew he didn't deserve you, didn't deserve the love and devotion you showed him every day. But he was selfish, a bastard who couldn't bear the thought of being without you. You were his, his beautiful and incomparable woman, who saw past his flaws and loved him despite everything.

As Turpin led you to the bed, laying you down gently before retrieving a damp cloth from the suite bathroom, he couldn't help but marvel at the sight of you. You sighed happily as he cleaned you, your eyes filled with love and adoration as you gazed up at him.

Once you were cleaned, Turpin set the cloth aside and went to the front of the wardrobe, intending to change into his sleeping pajamas. But as he glanced inside, his eyes fell upon his judge's wig, neatly arranged on the shelf. A smile tugged at his lips as he reached for it, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Returning to the bed, Turpin ordered you to sit down, and you obeyed without question. With a playful laugh, he placed the judge's wig on your head, watching with amusement as it practically swallowed you whole. You looked ridiculous in his judge wig, and you couldn't help but laugh too as you caught sight of yourself in the full-length mirror.

"It suits you, my dear," Turpin chuckled, his voice filled with warmth as he watched you. "Though perhaps a bit too big for your head."

You were surprised that he put the wig on you, when some time ago he scolded you for wearing the wig that he said was not a toy, but you ignored that, knowing that your husband was complicated and unpredictable, changing his mind and mood quickly.

Turpin leaned in closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he spoke. "Perhaps we should keep this little game between ourselves," he suggested, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I wouldn't want anyone else to see my esteemed judge looking so... absurd."

You couldn't help but play along, adopting a stern expression as you tried to imitate his husky voice. "Richard William Turpin," you proclaimed, your voice low and authoritative, "you are hereby sentenced to spend the rest of your days locked up."

Turpin raised an eyebrow in mock surprise, his lips twitching with amusement. "And what are the charges against me, Your Honor?" he inquired, his tone dripping with feigned innocence.

You poked his chest with your finger, trying to maintain your composure despite the playful glint in his eyes. "Your crimes," you declared, "are of causing sinful pleasures in maidens, seducing innocent maidens with your perverse charms."

Turpin's lips curved into a smirk at your words, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "And what is my punishment, Judge?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

"You will spend the rest of your life locked in with me," you replied, trying to sound stern despite the laughter bubbling up inside you. "That is your sentence."

Turpin's smirk widened into a grin as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I must say, Your Honor," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "that sounds like a punishment I could learn to enjoy."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response, the tension of earlier melting away as you enjoyed the playful banter with your husband. With a playful glint in your eye, you reached up and removed the judge's wig from your head, placing it on Turpin's instead.

"Your turn," you challenged him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "Let's see if you can do better."

Turpin straightened up, adjusting the wig on his head with a smirk. As he adopted a more serious expression, his voice took on a low, authoritative tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

"In the case of Mrs. Turpin," he began, his voice filled with gravitas, "I find you guilty of stealing my heart and disrupting the peace of my mind."

You couldn't help but hold your breath as Turpin continued, his voice unwavering as he delivered your sentence. "Your punishment, my dear, is to serve me for the rest of your life. You will keep me satisfied, attend to my every need, and be by my side until the end of time. You are stuck with me forever, even when I draw my last breath. You shall not have another man in your life; you are mine, and you will always be, just like I am yours."

You were taken aback by the intensity with which Turpin spoke, the gravity of his words sinking in as you realized the depth of his desire and possessiveness. Instinctively, you reached out and cupped his cheek, searching his eyes for some semblance of understanding.

"Richard," you murmured softly, your voice filled with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. "Do you truly mean what you say? Do you truly believe that I belong to you, and you to me? Are you my Richard?"

Turpin's expression softened at your touch, a flicker of vulnerability shining through the mask of cruelty he often wore. He leaned into your hand, pressing a tender kiss to your palm as he spoke.

"Yes, my dear," he replied, his voice gentle and sincere. "I am already yours. I was sentenced as yours the moment I saw you for the first time. You captured my heart, and I have been yours ever since."

You couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion at his confession, the realization that despite his flaws and shortcomings, Turpin truly cared for you in his own twisted way. As he leaned in to kiss you, you melted into his embrace, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by an unbreakable bond of love and devotion.