#Could I fix him? Probably not. Could I get him pregnant? Probably not. Does that mean I should simply quit like a fucking coward? No!

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

WE GOT AN ULTRAMARINE FUCKER IN HERE GET EM

Sergeant Gadriel specifically, yes

[itneverendshere]

Just saw the new popular movie ’’This ends with us’’ and I beg of you to draw from the actual beautiful love story, so pure! So same concept of the love story: Pouge!Rafe has been kicked out by his mom and her abusive boyfriend, Kook!Reader sees him homeless & hiding. Reader does small acts of kindness, which builds up to a romance but they separate for whatever reason (could be because they get discovered, he joins the military, like the movie, or something different). It could also be reversed with Pouge!Reader instead being homeless, you pick! Years go by, Reader meets an abusive partner, she bumps into a now grown up Rafe. Lots of angst, lingering feelings and longing, he sees the signs of abusive and gets protective. But without the movie plots of reader getting pregnant and married) I adore and worship your writing skills, truly have a gift to make you feel all the emotions!! <3333333

INVISIBLE STRING - r.c series (one)

i loooove this request because pogue!rafe so i decided to turn into a mini series (two or three parts). im personally not a fan of it ends with us, but i love your requests bc it's still very different from the original plot.

pairing: pogue!rafe x sweetheart!kook reader. chapter warnings: domestic violence; absent parents; angst; fluff.

Rafe was born rough around the edges.

There was never any sugar-coating about it; with his hair always messy, sun-bleached and salty, and his hands perpetually stained with the grime of whatever job he'd taken up that week, Rafe Cameron had never known peace. He moved like a stray dog that had learned to fend for itself, his eyes always scanning for trouble. 

Most people kept their distance, and he liked it that way.

There wasn’t much softness in his life. His mom tried her best, he supposed, but that wasn’t saying much. She had a new boyfriend every few months, and they were all the same — mean, drunk, and looking for a fight. Rafe learned early on that if you couldn’t fight back, you were nothing. So he fought. A lot.

He fought the men who walked into their house at night, stinking of cheap whiskey and cigarettes. He fought the kids at school who called him trash, who mocked the way his clothes never quite fit or how he always seemed a little too hungry. But mostly, he fought himself — every time he looked in the mirror and saw his father’s eyes staring back at him. The man who left and never looked back. 

Another piece of shit. 

He kept his head down, kept his hands busy, and kept his mouth shut unless he had something to say. He wasn’t nice. Nice got you nowhere; nice got you used, broken, and left behind. He had seen it too many times to believe otherwise. The world wasn’t a kind place, and he wasn’t a kind guy. 

Most days, he’d finish work covered in sweat and salt, with just enough money in his pocket to get by. He'd dropped out of school years ago and head to the docks, sit on the edge, and smoke a cigarette while the sun dipped below the horizon.

The only real moment of peace he had.

Rafe took what work he could find — fixing up old fishing boats for the few Kooks who’d dare come down his side of the Cut, pulling shrimp nets in the dead hours of the morning, his back aching and his muscles screaming at such a young age, but at least it was better than being home. If he could call it that.

Home, where his mom was probably passed out again, where the latest loser she'd dragged in might be passed out on the couch or looking for a fight.

He could hear them shouting before he even got to the door. His mom’s voice screaming her throat out, and he could hear something crashing inside — a glass, maybe, or a plate. Then came the matching scream of the new boyfriend, Tony or Tommy or something — they all blurred together after a while. Rafe paused on the porch, his hand hovering over the door handle, debating whether it was worth going in at all.

Inside, she was standing in the middle of the living room, her face flushed, her blonde hair a mess. Tony stood over her, fists clenched, his face red and veins bulging in his neck. 

Rafe knew that look. 

He’d seen it before — seen it in a dozen men who thought they could push their weight around, thought they could break whatever they wanted.

“What the hell’s going on?” 

Tony turned, eyes narrowing. “None of your damn business, boy.”

Rafe took a step forward, his fists balling up instinctively. “If it’s in my house, it’s my business.”

His mom spun around to face him, her eyes wild and desperate. “Just stay out of it, Rafe. You always have to make things worse!”

He felt the sting of her words. He should be used to it by now. “I’m not the one who brought this piece of shit in here.”

That was all it took. Tony lunged at him, shoving him hard against the wall. Rafe felt the air rush out of his lungs as pain flared in his back. “You watch your mouth, punk,” Tony hissed, his face inches from his, his breath a disgusting mix of beer and god knows what.

“Or what?” Rafe shot back. If there was one thing he’d learned, it was how to keep his anger in check — at least most of the time.

Tony’s eyes flicked to his mom, like he was making a point, and she just stood there, watching. He’d lost his faith in her a long time ago but it still blew him away how she never lifted a finger to help him. 

“Get out,” she said finally, hand moving to point towards the bust-up wooden door.

“What?” Rafe blinked, caught off guard. He must’ve heard her wrong.

“You heard me. Get out!” She was shouting now, her voice high-pitched and desperate. “I can’t have you here, always stirring things up! You make everything worse!”

It had to be a fucking joke. He was the only one bringing in money to pay the rent, the only one who kept the house clean enough so it wouldn’t look or smell like someone died in there. Paid the hospital bills when they hit her too hard. He did everything, always. 

Tony shoved him again, harder this time, toward the open door. “You heard her. Get the hell out.”

Rafe stumbled backward, catching himself before he fell. He looked at his mom, his chest tightening in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a kid. “You’re really gonna choose him over your own son?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Just go, Rafe. I can’t do this anymore.”

He forced himself to nod. He almost wanted to laugh. “Fine,” he muttered, pushing past Tony and heading for the door. “Don’t call me when he sends you to the hospital again.”

He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. The moment he stepped outside, the wind hit his face like a slap, the kind that made his eyes sting and his heart pound. Things had never gotten to this point before. He would’ve rather taken a beating then get kicked out. 

He walked, hands stuffed into his pockets. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he couldn’t go back. Not now. Not ever. He’d die before he begged his mother or Tony to let him in that shithole again. His feet took him along the edge of town, past the marina and the fishing docks, and eventually, he found himself in the wealthy part of town, near Figure 8.

It was ironic, almost funny.

The Kooks lived here, the ones who wouldn’t give him the time of day if they saw him on their streets. And here he was, a beat-up pogue, walking right through their territory, angry and suddenly so damn tired.

He spotted an old, abandoned house, sitting at the end of a street where the mansions stood tall and proud. He had walked by it a few times before and noticed it had been empty for years, the paint peeling off in strips, the windows boarded up, and the grass overgrown. He crossed the street, glancing around to make sure no one was watching, and pushed the broken gate open. The hinges squeaked loudly, proving just how long it had been since someone had been there.

The front door was unlocked; it opened with the slightest push. Inside, it smelled of dust and mold, but it was dry, and it was quiet. It was enough. He made his way to a small room in the back, what must have once been a kitchen. There was an old sofa left behind, covered in a dirty sheet. He pulled the sheet off, threw it in a corner, and sank onto the sofá, finally breathing properly. 

He stayed there, staring at the cracked ceiling and the empty walls, wondering how the fuck he was going to get himself out of this one. 

For the two next days, he moved carefully, quietly, in and out of the house. He didn’t want anyone to know he was staying there. He wasn’t getting his ass thrown into jail again. He found a way in through the back window, kept to the dimly lighted areas, and avoided the main roads. He didn't have much — a few changes of clothes, some cash from odd jobs, and his dad’s old pocketknife, the only thing he had left of the bastard.

It was on the third day that he saw you.

He was sitting on the front steps, having a cigarette, when he heard the sound of a bike chain clicking. He glanced up, and there you were — riding a yellow bike, hair pulled back, and eyes glued to him as you pedaled down the street.

He stiffened, quickly stubbing out the cigarette, his heart rate picking up. You were one of them, a Kook, from one of the mansions just a block away. He’d seen you before, always biking around town, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone.

He didn’t know you, didn’t even know your name, but he knew the type.

You saw him, too, and slowed your bike. His first thought was to get up and disappear back into the house, but he knew that would look suspicious. So he stayed put, trying to look casual, as if he belonged there.

You stopped a few feet away, still on your stupid bike, one foot on the ground to steady yourself.

“You live here?” You asked, not in a mean way, just curious.

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” he lied, “Why?”

You shrugged, “Just… didn’t think anyone did. Looks pretty empty.”

He tensed, waiting for you to say something like, “I’m going to tell someone,” or worse, to start asking more questions. But instead, you just gave him another curious look, nodded, and biked away.

Weird girl.

The next day, you were back. This time, you had a bag with you. He watched you approach, wary. You stopped in front of the house and took something out of the bag — a sandwich, wrapped in paper, and a bottle of water.

You held them out to him, a gentle smile on your face, “Figured you might be hungry.”

He thought maybe you were just trying to make yourself feel better, some Kook guilt thing, like feeding the stray cat in the alley so you could pat yourself on the back for being such a nice person.

And he hated that. Hated you for even thinking he needed your stupid charity. So he gave you every reason to leave him alone.

When you handed him that sandwich, he barely even looked at you.

He just grabbed it and then turned his back, heading into the house without another word. But the next day, you were there again. And the next.

He started making it obvious he didn’t want you around. He’d grunt when you said hello, roll his eyes when you tried to make small talk.

One time, you offered him an apple, and he snatched it out of your hand without a word, just to see if you’d get annoyed enough to leave. You didn’t. Like some fucking saint.

Instead, you kept coming back, like some sort of annoying, persistent fly he couldn’t swat away. Every time, your smile was a little nicer, your eyes a little more curious.

He didn't get it. Why the hell were you still trying? Didn’t you get it? He didn’t want you here. Didn’t want to talk to you. Didn’t need shit from a Kook.

“What’s your problem?” he muttered one day when you showed up with a bag of groceries.

You blinked, “What do you mean?”

“You keep coming back here like I asked you to. I didn’t. I don’t need your charity.”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, still not leaving. “I’m not doing charity. I jut figured you could use a little help.”

He scoffed, turning his back on you again. “I don’t need anything from you, princess.”

You hesitated, then placed the bag on the steps anyway. “Well, it’s here if you do.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes again. “Great. Another pity gift from the rich kid. Thank you so much,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You clenched your jaw, but still didn’t leave. He expected you to finally get the hint, but you just shook your head and walked away.

The next day, you there you were. And the day after that. Always bringing something, always with that same annoying, stubborn smile.

By the end of the week, he was done. You rolled up with another bag, and before you could even open your mouth, he let out a loud groan, throwing his head back. 

"For fuck’s sake, don’t you have anything better to do than bother me every damn day?”

That was it — you snapped.

Your eyes flared, and you stepped in closer, voice getting louder. "Will you just eat the damn food before I throw it in your face?" You shouted, cheeks going red with frustration.

He blinked, caught off guard. He didn’t expect you to clap back.

You’d been silent and too sweet for his liking. Most Kooks would’ve run back to their fancy houses by now, but you were still standing your ground, fists clenched, breathing heavy. Cute.

He almost laughed. Almost. “What’s your deal? You think you’re some kind of hero bringing food to the poor pogue? You think you're gon' save me or something?”

You glared at him “I’m not trying to save you, jerk! I’m just trying to be a decent human! Maybe you should try it sometime!”

He stared at you, face set in a deadpan, but he felt something— something he hadn’t felt in a while. Respect, maybe? But for some reason, he didn’t tell you to get lost.

Instead, he snatched the bag out of your dainty small hand. “Fine. I’ll eat your stupid food. But don’t think this changes anything,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Oh, trust me, I don’t.”

You both stood there in this weird silence for a minute, glaring at each other. Then you shook your head, and smiled like you hadn’t read him to filth ten seconds ago. “See you tomorrow, Rafe.”

What? You knew his name?

He watched as you rode away and he realized he was grinning, just a bit. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel completely alone.

And somehow, that pissed him off even more.

Days turned into weeks, and you kept showing up, like a plague.

No matter how much Rafe grumbled, no matter how many times he rolled his eyes or muttered under his breath, you just kept coming back. It was always something small — fruit, a bottle of water, a warm meal in a container. Every time you showed up, you had that same stubborn look in your eyes, like you weren’t going to back down no matter how much he pushed you away.

He hated to admit it, but he started to look forward to your little visits. He hated even more that he noticed things about you. Like how your hair fell in your face when you leaned over to hand him something or how your laugh sounded when he said something sarcastic. He noticed the way you seemed to care, even when he made it clear he didn’t want you to.

One day, you showed up with a duffel bag. Rafe looked at you suspiciously as you parked your bike and slung the bag over your shoulder.

“What now?” he grunted, eyeing the bag like it might bite him.

He could tell you were nervous and that weirded him out even more. Since when could he read your mind? 

“I was thinking… maybe you’d want to come to my house. Just to shower and get some real rest. My parents are out of town, and y’know, you could use it.”

He stared at you like you’d grown another head. “You want me to come to your house?”

You nodded, looking a little unsure now, hands tightening around the bag’s strap, “Yeah. Just for a bit. I thought you might like a break from this place.”

He scoffed. “And why the hell would I want to do that? You think I’m gonna be some charity case you can parade around to make yourself feel good?”

You sighed, clearly getting frustrated. “No, Rafe. I just thought… I just thought you might want a hot shower. But if you don’t, that’s fine.”

He usually cleaned himself up near the docks, but the water was freezing during this time of the year. Every time it felt like his balls were going to drop to the floor. So yeah, a hot shower in a big mansion sounded tempting.

Even if he didn’t want to give you that satisfaction.

A hot shower… a real bed, even for a little while. He hadn’t had that in what felt like forever. He looked at you again, trying to figure out if this was some kind of sick twisted plan, but all he saw were those stupid glowing eyes staring him down like he’d be dumb to refuse you. 

“Fine,” he muttered, standing up. “But just for a shower. And if you try anything weird, ’m outta there.”

Your nose scrunched up, “As if.”

Your house was everything he expected from a Kook — big, clean, and way too fancy. He felt out of place the moment he stepped through the gigantic door, like he was tracking mud on a white carpet. You led him upstairs, pointing out the bathroom.

“You can use this one. Towels are in the cabinet, and I’ll leave some clothes outside if you want them.”

Rafe grunted in response, still unsure why he was even there. He went into the bathroom and locked the door, leaning against it for a moment. The place smelled like lavender or some other fancy soap he couldn’t name. He turned on the shower, and the hot water poured out instantly, filling the room with steam.

He stripped off his dirty clothes and stepped under the water, hissing as the heat hit his skin. But then he relaxed, letting the water wash away the grime, the salt, the exhaustion he’d been carrying for so long. He stayed under the spray longer than he should have, almost losing track of time.

When he finally got out, he saw the clothes you’d left outside the door — a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, nothing flashy, but clean. He put them on and headed back downstairs, finding you in the kitchen, making coffee.

You looked up when he entered, “Feel better?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

You handed him a cup of coffee, and he took it reluctantly, still waiting for the catch. But you just sat across from him at the kitchen island, sipping your own cup, not saying anything.

He found himself watching you, noticing the little things again.

The way you tucked your hair behind your ear, the way your fingers tapped against the mug when you were thinking. He hated that he was noticing, hated that he found any of it interesting. He took a sip of the coffee and scowled when it tasted good, because of course it did.

“You do this shit for everyone?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“This.” He gestured around. “Invite random guys to your house, make them coffee, act like you care.”

You laughed, a light sound that made his chest feel weird. “No. Just you.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just looked away, taking another sip of coffee. He didn’t do nice. He wasn’t used to nice. This was weird.

You kept doing these little things for him — small acts of kindness he didn’t ask for and definitely didn’t deserve. You’d leave extra food by the house when you knew he’d be there, sometimes even a blanket or a pillow you said you didn’t need. You’d offer to let him use the house again, and every once in a while, he’d accept, hating how much he craved the simple comfort of a shower or a bed.

And all the while, he stayed the same — gruff, sarcastic, always trying to push you away with his attitude. But you didn’t go. You took his crap and came back.

One night, after a particularly rough day where everything seemed to go wrong, he found himself standing outside your house again. Your parents were out of town again, and he didn’t have anywhere else to go. He hated that he was here, hated that he needed this, but he knocked anyway.

You opened the door, your face lit up with that familiar smile. “Rafe,” you said, voice warm. “Come in.”

He liked the way his name sounded on your lips.

He hesitated, but he did. You led him to the living room, and he noticed a few things this time — the family photos on the walls, a vase of flowers on the table, the soft throw blanket on the couch.

Your home was nothing like his, but it felt… safe.

They sat in silence for a while, and he noticed how you didn’t bother him with questions, didn’t try to fix anything. You just sat there, close but not too close, letting him breathe. He found himself looking at you more, catching the way your lips curled up at the corners, how your eyes seemed to soften whenever they landed on him. He felt something strange, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He sat on that big couch, staring at his busted-up hands, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. You were just a few feet away, eyes flicking over to him now and then, like you were waiting for him to speak. But he didn’t know what to say.

He felt… uncomfortable. Not because of the place, or you. No, never because of you. But because of this strange feeling that kept crawling up his spine, making him feel restless.

You were sitting on the arm of the chair, legs tucked under you, looking at him with that familiar, gentle expression that made him feel like maybe he wasn’t such a screw-up. He didn’t know what to do with that. You were the kind of girl who should have nothing to do with him. Yet here you were, again and again, showing up, like you didn’t know any better.

He cleared his throat, trying to push back whatever weird tension was building between you. “So… your parents,” he muttered. “They’re out of town a lot?”

You nodded, sighing, “Yeah. They travel for work. I’m used to it.”

“Must be nice,” he said, but his voice came out rougher than what he was going for. He didn’t know how to do gentle and he was still half-convinced you were going to kick him out or tell him you had enough of his crap.

“Sometimes,” you replied, “But it gets lonely, too.”

He wasn’t expecting that. He glanced at you trying to read you. He knew you weren’t looking for sympathy; you were just stating a fact.

He wasn’t sure what made him ask, but he did anyway. “Why do you keep helping me?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I— I don’t know. I guess… I just see something in you. Something good.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “There’s nothin' good in me.”

“There is,” you insisted. “I see it. Even if you don’t.”

He felt his chest tighten, and he had to look away. “You’re wrong.”

“Maybe,” you said quietly, “but I don’t think so.”

He feel your eyes on him, could feel the way his pulse was racing under his skin. He hated it. Hated that he wanted to believe you, wanted to feel whatever it was you seemed to see in him.

“You’re too good,” he muttered. “Too good for someone like me.”

You laughed softly. “You don’t know me as well as you think, Rafe.”

He glanced up, surprised by the boldness in you. You were so soft most days it always threw him off when you took the reins. You were closer now, leaning forward just slightly, eyes fixed on his. He felt that breathtaking tension tightening again.

Before he could think better of it, he spoke, voice coming out meeker than what he was going for, “You really think there’s somethin' good in me?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of him for a second, “Yeah, I do.”

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know what possessed him, but before he could stop himself, he reached out, his hand finding yours. You didn’t pull away. Didn’t flinch in fear or scrunched up your nose in disgust.

Instead, your fingers tightened around his, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Why?” he asked again, desperate.

 “Because I just do.”

Something snapped in him then, something he’d been holding back for too long. He moved closer, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your delicate skin. You didn’t pull away again, only leaning into his touch. 

He hesitated, just for a moment. “I’m not— I-I’m not a good guy,” he murmured.

You smiled again, softer this time, the way he hoped you only did for him, “I don’t need you to be.”

He didn’t get it, but he didn’t have time to figure it out.

He leaned in and kissed you. It was clumsy at first — just a touch of lips, a bit hesitant. But then you kissed him back and suddenly he understood those stupid cliché novels his mom used to read when he was younger. He’d never kissed anyone before. 

He was too aware of how inexperienced they both were, of the way his lips barely brushed against yours. He felt stiff and unsure, like he didn’t know if he was doing it right. But it felt right. It wasn’t smooth or perfect — there was hesitancy and uncertainty, but it was real. He felt your hand touch his cheek, your fingers warm and trembling just a little.

His hand slid from your cheek down to your neck, pulling you closer, fingers curling into your hair. He couldn’t get enough. It was messy, frantic, his heart racing like it was trying to break out of his chest, and for once, he didn’t care. He felt your breath hitch against his lips, the warmth of you pressing into him, and all the walls he’d built up, all the reasons he’d given himself to push you away, disappeared. 

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his old shirt like you didn’t want to let go, and that did something to him. Made him feel more alive than he had in a long time. Every time he kissed you, it was like he was drowning in you, like nothing else mattered except for this — your lips, your skin, the way your body pressed against his.

He pulled away, just for a second, eyes wide and breathing heavy, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

He looked at you, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and wet from the kiss, and damn, you looked beautiful. More beautiful than he ever let himself admit before.

But then you smiled, that same heart-shattering smile, and it was like you were pulling him back in, “You don’t have to be afraid,” you whispered.

“I’m not…” he started, but even he didn’t believe it. Because he was. He was terrified as hell of this, of you, of the way you made him feel like he wasn’t a complete mess. But before he could say more, you kissed him again, and this time, he didn’t hold back.

He didn’t think about what he should or shouldn’t be doing, didn’t overanalyze the way his hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you closer until there wasn’t any space left between you. You melted into him, your body warm and soft, like you belonged there and he felt like he was burning up from the inside out.

His hands roamed, exploring, memorizing the curve of your waist, the way your body fit so perfectly against his. Every little sound you made, every breathless gasp, made him feel like he was on fire.

You broke apart again, both of you panting, and he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.

“This is crazy,” he muttered, his voice all shaky.

You giggled, the sound making his chest tighten in the best way.

“Maybe. But I don’t care.”

He opened his eyes, staring into yours, and he knew you meant it.

You didn’t care about the Kook vs. Pogue thing, about the stupid rules that had been drilled into them from birth. You just cared about him. He didn’t know how to let himself want something good, something real. But he wanted you. God, did he want you.

From that night on, everything changed. 

You started seeing each other in secret, meeting up when your parents were out of town or sneaking off to some hidden spot by the beach at night where no one would find you. Every time he saw you, it was like a high he couldn’t get enough of. You’d kiss, talk, hold each other like you were the only two people in the world, and he’d forget about all the shit in his life. Forget about the fact that he was supposed to be a screw-up who didn’t deserve someone like you.

You sat side by side at the dock, feet dangling just above the water, the tips of your shoes barely touching the surface. Something was calming about the sound of the gentle waves lapping against the dock, the world feeling small and distant for once, like it was just the two of you.

He leaned back on his hands, staring out at the horizon, not saying much. He’d been quiet today, more so than usual. You nudged him lightly with your shoulder.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He snorted, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t want ‘em. They’re not worth much.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him again. “C’mon. You’ve been quiet all day. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He hesitated, glancing down at the water, his fingers curling into the wood of the dock. He was biting back whatever was eating at him. He wasn’t the type to open up easily, you knew that, but he wanted to, for you. You wanted to know him, all of him, not just the fake exterior he put up for everyone else to see.

“You ever think about… like, how different your life would be if shit didn’t go so sideways?” he asked, his voice low, almost like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud.

You frowned, turning to face him, “What do you mean?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair.

“My mom, she… she used to date these losers. Real pieces of shit, y’know? Guys who’d roll through, thinking they owned the place, treating me like I was some kind of burden just because I was around.”

It wasn’t easy for him to say it, but he was doing it anyway, like the words had been stuck inside him for years.

“She didn’t really care what they did. As long as they paid for her booze, she was cool with whatever. They’d knock me around sometimes, tell me I wasn’t worth shit. But she never did anything about it.” He paused, swallowing hard, his gaze fixed on the water because he couldn’t look at you. “One of ‘em got real bad. Fucker hit me so hard one night, I thought I was gonna pass out. And when I told her… she didn’t care. Told me I was a liar. Said I probably deserved it.”

“Rafe…” you whispered, reaching out to take his hand. He didn’t pull away this time, just let you hold it, his fingers squeezing yours a little too tightly.

“I tried to stick it out,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Tried to stay for as long as I could. But one day, she kicked me out. Told me I was too much trouble, and she didn’t need me around anymore.” He laughed, but it was hollow, bitter. “I guess I wasn’t worth the space I took up.”

You were quiet. He liked that about you, that you didn’t try and get his thoughts out of his head, just let him do his thing, on his own time. There was nothing that could make up for the kind of pain he’d been through. You just squeezed his hand tighter, and he just knew you wished you could take some weight off his shoulders.

“That’s why you were in that house?” You brushed your lips against his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

It was hard for him to talk about this stuff. Hell, it was hard for him to talk at all when it came to anything real. You just sat there, holding his hand, being there. That was what made you different. Most people didn’t wait for him. They’d get frustrated, give up, move on.

You just... stayed. And that scared him almost as much as it comforted him.

“You didn’t deserve that.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. Deserve’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

You shifted closer, your knees touching his now. “It matters to me.”

He didn’t understand how you could look at him like that, like he was worth something.

“You knew my name.”

You nodded, “You delivered fresh seafood to the house once.”

His eyes nearly popped out from their sockets, “I was fourteen.”

“Yeah?”

“And you remembered that?”

Your brows shot up like he’d said the dumbest thing ever. “Obviously.”

His breath caught, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, pulling you into his lap. His hands found your waist, desperate, almost frantic, holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

"You shouldn’t—" he started, but the words died on his lips because you were already kissing him, and it was like everything stopped. The world, his thoughts, all the shit that weighed him down. It was just you, your lips, the way your hands tangled in his hair, and the soft sounds you made against his mouth.

He kissed you harder, more urgently, like he was trying to prove something to himself — that he could have this, that he could deserve this. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips moved against yours and he felt like he was falling apart and putting himself back together all at once.

When he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his chest was heaving, and you were looking at him with that same softness that made his stomach twist.

"How—How the hell did I get this lucky?" His voice cracked, just a little. He hadn’t meant to say it, but the words spilled out anyway. 

You smiled, brushing your thumb across his cheek, and he realized then that his face was wet. He hadn’t even noticed the tears slipping down, hadn’t noticed the way he was trembling.

"You deserve this" you whispered. 

That was it.

That was the breaking point. A choked sob escaped him, and before he could stop himself, he crashed his lips against yours again, kissing you so hard it hurt, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t hold back the way he felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. For you.

His hands cupped your face, fingers trembling as he kissed you again and again, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he stopped. 

And as his tears mixed with your kiss, he realized that for the first time in his life, he wasn’t running.

He wasn’t pushing you away. He was falling, hard and fast, and he didn’t care. Because for once, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

[jammydodger3579]

If your taking requests can I request prompts 43 and 7 for an old man Logan x reader but it takes place before the movie Logan? BTW luv your work! Have a great day! ❤❤

A/N: this is a really old request that I never got around to writing so here you go. sorry it's shorter than my usual writing but it's cute I think

Warnings: nothing really, just a fluffy short story.

Word count: 450

Two lines. Two very visible lines. You couldn’t believe it. Logan had thrown the test at you as a joke, saying you’ll probably get your period once you do it. For once he was wrong. You’d talked about kids before, the conversion usually ending in “I’m too old to chase after a kid, let alone a mutant kid” You couldn’t help but picture it though, a child, that looked like a mixture of you and Logan, maybe even having his claws. Or a different mutation altogether. Running around the house in no clothes because what kid likes to wear clothes? You already felt something for the wee thing. Tears started to well in your eyes. How would you tell him? It had to be soon before he’d start to pick up on the second heartbeat coming from you. You fixed your appearance in the mirror before leaving the bathroom.  Logan was in his chair, wearing his glasses and reading the paper. It dawns on you, how right he might react. What if he does think he’s too old? It took him ages to even consider having a younger girlfriend, let alone a child. 

“I’m pregnant” the words escaped before you could stop yourself. To your surprise, Logan had a knowing smile on his face. 

“I know bub, at least 5 weeks” He put the paper down. “How do you feel about that?” 

“Oh you know, perfectly fine” you said sarcastically. “I think I had three consecutive panic attacks in the bathroom. How do you feel about it?” 

“I’ll admit, I thought I was going crazy at first. Thought someone had broken in and I couldn’t find them. Searched the whole house even. I’m happy as long as you’re happy” 

Your heart rushed, causing Logan to smile. He stood up and walked towards you, pulling you into his arms. 

“Thought you’d be too old to be a dad,” you said as tears spilled from your eyes. 

“I still got a lot of livin’ left to do, love” He placed a kiss on your forehead. “This is just the beginning of our lives together” 

“I love you” you looked up at him. He also had tears threatening to spill. 

“I know… I love you too” Logan took a deep breath, “Oh just wait till we tell Charles, he’ll be thrilled” You placed a kiss on Logan's lips. You had so much love for the man before you. He deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms tighter around you. You still couldn’t believe it, a baby. You and Logan were going to have a baby together. 

[kaciebello]

No need for mail

Masterlist Badger express ★ Lorenzo Berkshire x Hufflepuff! reader (fem) Summary: While doing a school project, Lorenzo tries his luck. With the help of the wind and the sun, he falls harder and harder.  Warnings: no use of y/n,  Authors note: Haiya! This is a sequel series to the whole delivery one. This one is gonna focus on the boys separately! hope you enjoy it! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) And just so you know, it always has been him. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ( and yes I know he's a slut, not here tho, maybe next time.) word count: 1.1k Song: Married In Vegas - The Vamps

Light breeze messes with his hair. He does not care as much as his attention is on the mooncalf nest that rests below the cliff. The girl next to him is doing the same. Her hair is held together in a braid with a yellow ribbon wrapped into it. They are both lying down at the edge of the cliff, one wrong move and they would be rolling down. He turns his face to her.

“Why are we doing this?” He whispers, yes whispered as he has already been scolded once for speaking at his normal volume. Apparently, it would scare the weird animal away and that is not what they want.

“It's a school project, I told you that.” She says, her gaze not moving away from the big-eyed cows.

“I don't think Hagrid would care if we pulled everything out of a book.” He argues back but knows there is no way out of this. He's finally being let in on a Hufflepuff sacred. No wonder they always get the best marks in ‘care for magical beasts’. They simply just vibe with them. The girl just shook her head at him.

The girl scooted a little bit more over the edge. Lorenzo's hand flew over to her and grabbed the back of her shirt. For a witch, she does not have even an ounce of self-preservation in her body.  A small rock fell from their shuffling and landed near the nest. Scaring all the mooncalf, making them run and hide.

“look what you did!” the girl says and, with the help of Lorenzo, sits up.

“Me? I'm not the one trying to throw myself off the cliff!” he says, now too, sitting.

The girl scoffs and gets up to make her way over to the blanket where they set their stuff. He makes his way to her and sits down right next to her. Their knees touching. They both pulled out their notebook, he wrote down his observations and she finished her sketch of the animal.

Silence falls upon them as they both do their own thing. Lorenzo's eyes shift to see her sketch, only to see a familiar face. He does not know if he should call her out or not. But since he considered himself her best friend, a fact she constantly denies, he decided to do the first option.

“AYO, is that me!” Startled, the girl closes the notebook so fast it makes a thud so loud that he's certain the mooncalf all hid again. He tried to take the notebook from her, but she threw it on the other side of the blanket. She restraints one of his hands and the other one lands by her back.

When Lorenzo noticed how close they were, a smile crept on his face.  She noticed too, as his legs curled a little. She turns her body to face him more and places her other hand near his, probably so she can quickly grab it if he tries something.

He noticed her eyes were scanning his face. A breeze messes with his hair again. The girl blinks and lets his arm go, going to fix it for him. He places his, now free, arm on her thighs, squeezing them to make sure his arm lands where he wants it to without actually looking.

The two friends stay silent. Not an awkward one, but a comfortable one they always seem to find themself when they are together. 

“You're so pretty, I wish I could get you pregnant.” She breaks the silence. Lorenco can do nothing but chuckle. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. His arms now sneaking around her waist. Pulling her closer to his body.

“Ditto” He murmurs. He can feel her shake with laughter. She was now playing with his hair, something he could let her do all day if he could.  That's why he peels himself off of her. She just looked at him confused. Lorenzo just shakes his head and moves a little, before ploping his head down on her lap. He makes sure to grab her arms and slam it on his head for good measure.

She looks at him with a shocked expression before sighing. Nonetheless, she does what he wishes for and plays with his hair. He flashes her a smile full of pearly whites. 

“You're annoying.” She says looking down at him. he pokes her side making her squirm a bit.

“But you still love me.” he sings back to her. She does not answer to him. They fall into silence again. The girl is not looking at him. Something in the distance caught her attention. He did not mind, as if she were to look down on him, she would see a fool in love.

A sun framed her head and made it look like a halo. He was smitten.

“So you know how you just wanna be friends?” He says making her give him attention. Looking down at him her arm came to a stop.

“Yeah?”

“That's cool and all, but I'm like in love with you.” 

“Same” The girl just breaths out. Lorenzo did not expect her to say that. In a second he has decided he is not letting her change her mind.

He shoots up and cages her with one of his arms while the other one goes to her neck and pulls her closer. He does not give her a chance to register what is going on.

Their lips met, softly than someone would expect with how fast Lorenzo was with his moves. She took a few seconds before kissing him back, her arms cradling his face.

The kiss was sweet and slow, a fairytale-like.

Soon they ran out of breath, the girl gently pushing Lorenzo away as he tried to chase her into another kiss. Still, with closed eyes, he lends his forehead to hers.

“That was-” A low whistle cuts him off. Cursing under his breath, Lorenzo opened his eyes and straightened out. there stood four of his friends. A whine leaves him.

“AYO I DID NOT KNOW YOU HAVE A GAME LIKE THAT.” Draco makes sure that he can be heard all the way back to Hogwarts. Multiple praises and hollers sound on the little cliff they found themself on.

All the boys make their way to Lorenzo, lifting him up and repeatedly tossing him in the air. All he could do was catch a glimpse of the girl with a yellow ribbon in her hair laughing. Not even noticing the love note falling out of his pocket and getting lost in the wind.

tag list: @daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @iwishigotswallowed , @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @bunnyhopsstuff , @deluluassapocalypse

[deadghosy]

How they react to you throwing up:

(Wrote this cause I also thrown up 🥲)

LUCIFER

Panicking.

Straight up panicking as he holds your hair back or just pats your back.

If you are crying after throwing up and are weak. He literally rushes to make you soup and maybe even a customize duck blanket he made for you for Christmas.

If you tried to get out of bed, he’s pushing you back in bed gently with a stern look.

He’s not letting you lift a finger at all

He stays while you sleep having a trash can by you just in case you thrown up.

CHARLIE

She’s freaking worried and kinda scared you have something serious until you tell her it might just be a sickness or bug.6

She pulls your hair back patting your back.

If you are too tired to get up she lifts you up with ease as you sniffle after throwing up. She lays you down getting razzle and dazzle to keep you company as she fixes you noodle soup to be better. She even gets you a water bottle.

She doesn’t like seeing you sick so she hope you get better.

She stays to make sure you need anything else before she leaves. She would check your temperature every 30 minutes just to make sure.

VAGGIE

She’s concerned but not worried sick as this is normal. She knows what to do for you.

Stays beside you as you throw up as she goes your hair back. She has a water bottle ready in hand just incase you need it.

She thinks it’s a bug since you haven’t been feeling yourself which worried her.

She has Charlie give you crackers and soup so you can eat something if you feel better at least.

She knows what to do as she have been sick herself at times. Of course she is staying by your side while you sleep or eat your soup weakly. She can’t just leave your side without knowing you aren’t getting better.

ANGEL DUST

“Are you pregnant?”

That’s what the fucker would asked to lighten the mood, but you glared at him with a sick expression not liking the joke.

He thinks maybe it’s because you drank too much, but really he doubts it since you drank hard before and never thrown up like this.

He then stopped joking as he helps clean you up while making you a bath to relax in as your body was obviously weak with shaking legs like a scared doe.

He has Charlie to help him learn how to make a soup to settle your stomach.

HUSK

“Fuck is wrong with you?”

This grumpy kitty is calm as he drinks while watching you throw up. He grumbles leaving the bathroom as you finish throwing up.

Shit you thought he left you like a bitch but nah he came back with a water bottle grumbling at how could you even get yourself this sick.

He might as well throw a towel for you to clean up your face as he’s not getting too close at first.

He lets you only this time cuddle him for comfort as he purrs with a blank face. He stares at your red face from your fever as he scoffs holding you close grabbing the thermometer for you.

ALASTOR

“Ah darling. This won’t do at all. Not at all.”

He smiles taking you to bed as he grabs the thermometer as his shadow try to fix you up and get you comfortable in bed.

You accidentally thrown up on him and you were so embarrassed by that as you covered your face expecting him to be mad as he only chuckled

“DONT worry darling! It’s only a stain.” He says taking off his jacket.

He understands you can’t control it so he helps you get better. He can’t leave a ‘dear’ friend in needing of help.

SIR PENTIOUS

“Holy fucking shit! Are you okay [Name]??”

Pentious is worried and is extremely scared at what is happening to you.

Charlie has to calm him down saying it’s probably a stomach bug. So he calms down and listens to Charlie for how to take care of you.

He gets his egg boiz to check up on you as they surround you with a worried expression

“Boss are they dying?…please don’t die boss’s friend!” Frank yells hugging your leg as you groan by the toilet.

The sweet egg boi really wanted you to feel better as Pentious grabs the soup for you and water with a side of crackers.

He definitely gets the alphabet soup as he smiles at you happily

[thetriumphantpanda]

sharing is caring | joel & tommy miller

Summary | If there was one thing no-one really prepared you for when you got pregnant, it was the increase in your sex drive. Six months in and you're more frustrated than ever that something just isn't scratching the itch. You know exactly how to fix it, turns out Tommy does too - if only you'd asked about this three months ago.

Warnings | Pregnancy sex, descriptions of a pregnant body, oral sex (f receiving), masterbation (m), Unprotected PiV sex (Even if you're pregnant, STDs exist folks), creampie, Tommy getting cucked because he loves it more than anything, Joel just being.... Joel.

Word Count | 2.9k

Authors Note | You didn't think Joel was just going to disappear did you? Of course he wasn't. I know that pregnancy sex and this whole trope isn't for everyone, but I hope that I've managed to do it in a way that is still sexy and hot and has you all still loving our little threesome! Big disclaimer that I've never been pregnant, so the accuracy of this might be.... off, please forgive me. We've got one more part after this and I still cannot believe how many of you are still here for this little story. I appreciate all the love you've given me on this so far and I just hope you love the way this ends (When I share it with you), as much as I do! As always, if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or popping into my ask with some love. If you'd like to support me by leaving a tip, you can do so here on my Ko-Fi (But as I always say, no pressure!)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Fuck, Tommy, holy shit.” 

Your head is thrown back on the pillow as your hips rock to meet his, your hand working hard to try and bring yourself as close to the edge as Tommy is right now. It’s been six months of a sex drive that’s been through the roof and six months of nothing working to satisfy that. Tommy had always been diligent lover, right from the very beginning, you’d always been satisfied, but there was something that just wasn’t working, and it had all begun when your stomach had started to swell. 

It had nothing to do with hating your body – if anything, seeing what it was doing, carrying a creating an entire other human, made you love it even more – you could spend hours running your hands over the swell of your stomach, even when your child would kick or move about and your skin would contort in ways you didn’t know possible, all you could do was watch in awe. No, it had nothing to do with that, and everything to do with the fact you were craving something, someone, you probably shouldn’t. 

In the past month, though it killed you to admit it, you’d started faking your orgasms. Something you’d never had to do in your time with Tommy, but that was probably easier than coming clean about the fact that you wanted Joel. No. You needed him. The combination of these two men, in your mind, was the only thing you could think that would help – the eyes of your love on you as his brother fucked you into another dimension. But how the fuck do you even ask for that?

When all is said and done that evening, and Tommy is softly snoring behind you with his hands resting on your belly, you run through every possible way that you might ask him if he’ll let Joel join you again. It had been incredibly normal between the three of you – you’d fallen back into the relationships you’d had before this whole thing started – Joel seemingly nothing but the loving brother-in-law he’d always been, and two brothers who certainly hadn’t been sharing you between themselves. It was a relief, that you could all go back to your old roles, but you knew Joel wanted more. Every time you’d see him, you’d watch his eyes on your swelling stomach, eyes that would darken when they met your own, with nothing but wanting for you. You knew he would do anything for you, you just had to ask. 

“Can I ask you something?” You pluck up the courage one evening when Tommy is massaging your ankles to try and get the swelling to subside. 

“Course you can.” He comments, his eyes never leaving the sports coverage on the TV in front of him. 

“Promise you won’t get mad?” You’re biting at the corner of one of your nails, worried that you might just be about to ruin everything good you’ve ever had. 

You watch, puzzled, as a smirk appears on Tommy’s face, his hands still working to relieve the aches at your ankles, “What the hell are you smirking for?” You ask. 

“Just think I know what you’re gonna ask for, is all.” 

“Go on then, smartass,” You offer, “What am I going to ask for?” 

“You want Joel, right?” 

What the fuck? How the fuck did he know? Your shock and surprise that he knew exactly what was on your mind must show on your face because he’s chuckling. 

“You’re not mad?” You ask. 

“No sugar, I am not mad,” He smiles, “He did a big thing for us,” He pauses to put a hand on your belly, “I’d be dumb as rocks to think that after all this there wasn’t some kind of connection between you both and that’s okay,” He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your lips, “I know you love me, but if you need him to help then all you had to do was ask.” 

"I just feel guilty," You admit, "That we're doing this together," You rest a hand on your tummy where a foot has just kicked, "And I can't stop thinking about how good it feels when you're both there."

"You don't have to feel guilty," He reassures, "He's as much involved as you or I sugar, and it's okay to ask for what you want, I promise."

“I still want you to be there,” You speak softly, taking hold of his hand, “And you’re sure you’re okay with this?” 

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, sweetheart,” He smiles, and you can tell it’s genuine, “Leave it with me and I’ll make sure you get what you want.” 

It doesn’t take long for Tommy to make good on his promise. Within the week, you’re led on your bed, trying to relieve the ache in your back for a little bit, when that familiar of knocks at the door rings through the house. You stay horizontal for a while, mind thinking back to all the times you’d done this before. This time you know it has nothing to do with being a means to an end, and everything about you being able to enjoy yourself, and that’s thrilling more than anything else. 

You push yourself up on your hands, leaning back on them slightly, when you can hear Tommy and Joel coming up the stairs. You’re dressed in your usual silk robe. The burgeoning bump in front of you means even if you tie it, it doesn’t fit properly anymore, so you’ve got the most unsexy pair of underwear on, the only stuff that fits right now, but when Joel makes his way through your bedroom door, left open this time, it doesn’t matter, he’s looking at you like you’re the loveliest thing he’s ever seen. 

Tommy is behind him, walking over to take his place on the chair in the corner, leaving you and Joel to have a moment to yourself, for now. Joel leans down and presses his usual chaste kiss to your cheek, pulling back to look down at you, looming over you as he traces your bottom lip with his thumb, just like he had the first night you’d been together. 

“You frustrated, darlin’ girl?” He asks, letting a smirk fall across his lips, “Thought you didn’t need me anymore, didn’t you?” You vehemently shake your head, no, you knew you needed him, and if you’d known Tommy would let you, you’d have asked months ago, “Don’t worry, pretty girl, I think together we can make you feel good.” He tilts his head to Tommy, sat behind you, but for once, your eyes are only on Joel. 

You reach your own hand up to cup his face, letting your fingers trace along the rough hair on his jaw, you want to tell him you’ve missed him, because you have, but instead you just settle for trying to finally get what you want. 

“You gonna spend all night looking at me?” You ask coyly, “Or are you going to eat my pussy?” 

“You drive a hard bargain.” He smirks, dropping to his knees, pulling at your ankles so you’re siting over the end of the bed, his hands coming to undo the tie of your robe, slipping it off to reveal your naked upper half to him. 

“Look what we did, pretty girl,” Joel whispers, big palms running over the swell of your stomach, “Look what we made together.” 

You’re overcome with emotion, tears pricking at your eyes, as his gentle hands trace the bump, mouth trailing just behind his hands as he worships his work, worships what he’s made you. As his fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear and pull them down, you feel the bed dip behind you. Tommy settles himself against your back, letting his legs rest on either side of your own, his lips starting to trail down your neck and across your shoulder as Joel spreads your legs. 

You can feel the breath from Joel’s mouth across the skin of your pussy, your hips bucking to try and meet his mouth. He brings your legs to rest over his broad shoulders, widening your spread legs before his mouth is on you. He’s doing what he always does, using his tongue to lap up at your slick hole first, and he’s groaning whilst he does it. He hasn’t had the taste of you on his mouth for six months, and even he’s surprised with how much he’s missed it. You lean yourself fully back into Tommy’s chest, as his hands come to cup the weight of your tits. They’re sensitive and sore, and he knows to be gentle, but he’s running his thumbs over your peaked nipples just enough that the pleasure outweighs the slight pain you feel. 

It's all inconsequential anyway once Joel trails his tongue up through your folds and over your clit. It’s like the trail of his tongue sets you on fire, lighting every single part of you alight as he touches you. You’re squirming against the pleasure of Tommy’s fingers at your chest, so much so that Joel has to grip the meat of your thighs to keep you steady as he trails the tip of his tongue over your clit in slow, languid movements, working you up slowly this time. 

With Tommy’s lips at your neck and his hands on your tits, and the slow but firm work of Joel’s tongue on your clit, you’re reaching your peak before you really know it’s happening. You can feel your thighs begin to shake and the way you’re grinding yourself into Joel’s face to chase the feeling of his mouth, you know you’re not going to last much longer. You reach down and run your fingers through his hair, anchoring his face to your aching cunt. 

“You gonna come for us baby?” Tommy breathes into your ear, “Go on, let go for us, I know you’ve been waiting.” 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” You breathe out with every breath you exhale, “I’m- oh my god-”

It hits you like a fucking freight train. Six months of pent-up tension released all at once as you actually scream Joel’s name out into the room. You can feel Tommy’s erection behind you, pressing into your lower back as you arch up into Joel’s mouth, his tongue working you through the aftershocks. 

He pulls his face away from your pussy, rubbing the slick onto your thigh as he presses soft kisses to the delicate skin there whilst you try and fill your lungs with air, trying not to cry at the relief you finally feel after all this time. 

“Wasn’t so hard, was it, pretty girl?” He speaks from between your thighs, finally pulling back enough that you can see those big, brown eyes, “Just needed a little extra help, didn’t you?” You’re too blissed out to care much right now at his teasing tone because he’s right. You did just need a little extra help. 

“You want him to fuck you, sugar?” Tommy asks into your ear. 

Joel stands, hands poised at his shirt buttons, waiting for your permission. You look him straight in the eye, legs spread, your wet cunt on full display for him, “I’d be disappointed if he didn’t.” 

Joel is slipping of his shirt in seconds, belt and jeans soon following. You can already see the bulge in the front of his underwear as Tommy moves from behind you. You move to grip his arm to get him to stay. 

“I’ll be right over here,” He soothes, pointing to the chair, “Just enjoy yourself, okay?” 

You turn your attention back to Joel, who is palming his cock through the thin material of his boxers, watching you as you shuffle back onto the bed. 

“What works for you, pretty girl?” He asks, letting his underwear drop to the floor as he crawls onto the mattress with you, “What makes you feel good?” 

He looms over you, settled between your thighs as he kisses at your neck. He wants you to be comfortable. He knows the positions you both favoured before are a dream now – there’s no way he would want to fold you in half, your legs on his shoulders, like he used to. You bring a hand to his chest, letting your fingers spread through the patchy hair that sits there. 

“Let me ride you?” You ask, almost shyly. 

“Whatever you want, babygirl.” 

Joel stretches out on the mattress and helps you to straddle his waist, holding your hands as you flounder a little to mount his body. He keeps you steady as you reach between the two of you to grab his cock, lining yourself up ready to sink down onto him. 

“I knew you’d be fuckin’ beautiful like this,” He groans as you slide down onto his cock, wet heat enveloping him as his hands rest on your stomach as you start grinding onto him, “Look at you,” He coos, “Puttin’ on a show for your man over there.” 

When you turn your head Tommy is exactly how he usually is, filthy grin plastered on his face, fisting his cock as he watches you take your pleasure from his brother. It makes you feel powerful as you rock your hips, feeling Joel’s cock work inside your pussy as he watches you. 

“It’s a fuckin’ great show too.” Tommy groans as he works himself in his hand. 

You bring your attention back to Joel, palms placed on his chest as you start fucking yourself on him. His hands are on your hips, but instead of the bruising grip they used to hold you in, now he’s softer, gentler with you as he guides your hips in movements that have you both moaning each other’s names. 

“Feels so good Joel,” You choke out, leaning as far forward as you can with your pregnant belly, trailing kisses along his jaw, “Missed this.” 

When you finally lean back, hands on Joel’s knee’s which he’s brought up to rest behind you, feet planted on the bed so he can finally start thrusting up into your aching cunt, you know it won’t be long until you’re seeing stars again. Joel brings his hand to your pussy, thumb rubbing tight circles across your clit. 

“Missed you too, pretty girl,” He groans, hips faltering as he thrusts up into you, he’s close too, “Missed feeling this pretty pussy clench around me when you’re gonna come for me.” 

“Don’t stop,” You breathe, “I’m so fucking close Joel.” 

He does exactly what you ask, keeps a steady rhythm of thrusts into your pussy, his hand working at your clit. You take a moment to look at Tommy, who gives you a wink as you watch him, eyes on him as he comes, covering his lower belly and his hand with his spend as he continues to watch you. 

“Come on, pretty girl,” Joel growls, bringing your attention back down to him, “Come for me.” 

You can feel the walls of your tight heat fluttering around his cock as you start to come around him. You hold yourself up with your hands on his knees as your vision blurs and pleasure spools its way across your body. You’re crying out his name as you feel him still inside you, the warmth of his spend seeping into you as he groans your name. Filling you right to the brim like he’d always done before, gripping your hips to keep you in place as your walls continued to flutter around him through your aftershocks. 

Once he’s sure you’re both finished, Joel helps you to lie down on the bed, pulling you off him and settling you on your back. You can hear Tommy at the other side of the room, doing his jeans up before he’s padding out of the room and down the stairs. 

“Are you alright?” Joel asks, lips close to your ear as he lets himself take a moment alone with you, hand resting on your stomach as the baby inside you wriggles around. 

“I’m fine,” You sigh, turning to look at him, he’s so close, his hand warm and protective on your swollen belly, “Thank you.” 

“None of that, pretty girl,” He can see the tears forming in your eyes, he takes your chin in his fingers, tilting your face just enough to press the softest kiss to your lips, “No more tears.” 

You bring your hand to his face, pulling him back down for another kiss, soft and over far too quickly, pulling away just as Tommy starts back up the stairs. By the time he’s in the room with a glass of water and the tablets you were taking to keep your heartburn at bay, Joel is already pulling on his clothes. You’re standing up, aiming to pick your robe up from the floor, but Joel beats you to it – handing you the silk material before bending to pick up his shirt. 

When he’s dressed, it’s the same as always, you both press kisses to each other’s cheeks and say goodbye. Tommy walks him downstairs, and you can hear them talking a little as you head to the bathroom. If there’s one thing you weren’t risking, it was a UTI whilst pregnant. As you’re washing your hands you can hear the front door close, and the sound of Tommy’s footsteps back on the stairs. 

You meet him outside the bedroom door, shedding his clothes as you do the same. It takes you a while to find a position you’re comfortable enough in to consider sleeping – led on your back with Tommy’s hand firmly on your stomach as is had been since the very beginning, his head on the pillow next to yours. 

“Thank you,” You say into the darkness, “For trusting us.” 

Tommy takes a moment before he replies, “I know he makes you happy,” He kisses your cheek, “All I ever want is for you to be happy.” 

[pettyprocrastination]

As much as I love Ghost and the idea of him as a dad. the road to get there is a fucking long one. 

Your relationship with Simon is one that despite how long it’s been going on for- neither of you have put a name on it. You know he cares about you- it’s seen in the way he scolds you when you don’t lock the door or curses your shitty apartment while also fixing your air conditioning when it breaks down every summer. 

You’ve compared him to a stray cat. One you have to let come to you on it’s own, otherwise it will only flee. 

When he’s on leave he goes to you. When he isnt- you don’t know a single fucking thing about where he is, what he’s doing, or if he’ll even come back. 

When the time comes and you sit him down to tell him the truth, that your pregnant and you’re keeping the baby whether he wants to be involved in their life or not? 

He leaves. 

Some words are exchanged beforehand and an argument probably breaks out that leads to you calling him a myriad of names that may even culminate in saying he’d be a shitty father anyways (you don’t beleive it. He does) but he gets up and walks out of your life because in his mind that’s the kindest thing he can do for you and his child. 

He’s still a dead man with a target on his back and as long as he’s in the field, that will never change. Getting involved with you past the initial fling was already dangerous enough (something he would call himself selfish for pursuing) but now there’s a baby that will have your eyes and his nose and christ he can’t risk it. 

So he walks out of your life. 

Now once the initial shock and emotions wear off, it should be said he still watches over you of course. If Simon’s on leave he’ll check in on you, watch from the shadows as you carry groceries to your car wearing a hoodie of his that keeps your swollen belly warm as you outgrow your clothes. He’ll keep an eye on any new, over-eager neighbors or any potential bachelor your friends try to set you up with. 

Maybe you feel a shadow pass by your window at night or when you leave your check-up from the doctor but pass it off as your anxieties getting the best of you. 

It could easily be classified as stalking. It is stalking, but it’s the closest he can come to protecting you, in his own way of thinking. To support you from afar is to keep you out of the danger he puts people in simply by knowing him. Even if it means hurting you both in the process. 

Maybe something happens. You give birth or a missions turned sour and he needs to see you, touch you to know you're safe and well or maybe the thought of not being there to keep you safe at all times could lead to you and his baby’s death just like Tommy's becomes all too consuming until one night he shows up on your doorstep while there’s a baby hanging off your arm and hellfire brimming in your eyes. 

[wanderingsoul6261]

I'm Here Now

Credit for gif goes to mauraeyk

James Beaufort x Reader

synopsis: follows the plot of a few requests, mostly pregnancy, angst, etc. In this one, Reader finds out she is pregnant. She tells James and he gets cold feet. Events in this fix are probably unlikely, but Y/N had been understanding, considering who his parents were. And then they meet several years later.

warnings: none, I don't think? If I'm wrong, please let me know and I can change it. My brain isn't working right now.

expect two more within the next 24 to 48 hours.

-------

The plastic stick stared hauntingly at her. This was it. The next nine months of her life and everything that came after, already laid for her. Ultimately, she had a different route, but she couldn’t do it. She would never do it. 

Her parents stood in the doorway of the bathroom. Silence filled the air and Y/N felt like she could suffocate in it. She picked at her fingernails, her eyes on the floor, looking everywhere but at her parents. It was already known how disappointed they were in her. How they had expected and hoped that she would get through the first few of her life after Maxton Hall before anything like this happened. She knew that they hoped that she would get through college and make a life for herself. 

But here it was, all thrown back in their faces. And it wasn’t just her parents. Y/N expected something completely different, and this was definitely not it. 

“Does he know?” Her mother finally spoke, breaking the silence. Y/N casted her eyes briefly in her parents direction. Her father leaned against the door frame, a hand on the bottom half of his face, and her mother stood a few steps closer, her eyes focusing solely on the pregnancy test. 

Y/N was silent for several seconds. 

“No.” She averted her eyes back to the ground in front of her. “He doesn’t” 

“Do you plan on telling him?” Her eyes snapped her father this time, who now stared back directly at her. 

“Yea. I just don’t know how. It’s not exactly an easy subject to talk about. Especially at your ages.” 

“It’s definitely the right thing to do.” He agreed. Her father let out a heavy sigh. “But… you might not like the response and actions that he might have.” Her mother nodded.

“This will be just as hard for him as it is for you at this moment.” 

“And you’re sure you want to keep the child?” She had been asked this question twice already minutes before. Y/N turned her gaze back to the ground, swallowing thickly as thoughts ran through her mind. 

“Because if not, we can pull some strings, and-” 

“Stop.” Y/N cut her father off, and he went silent. He had almost surprisingly looked dejected, and it was likely genuine. Y/N should have known. Her parents weren’t like other parents of rich kids. They meant well and actually cared for her well being. She knew that no matter what she decided to do, they would have her back no matter what. “I’m sorry.” She apologized. “But yea, I’d like to keep the child.” 

—

“What?” James was pale, and if Y/N hadn’t known any better, she would have thought him to be sick. She swallowed thickly, picking at her fingernails, a nervous habit of hers. He had seen and slapped her hands, telling her to stop it. Then he took a step back. 

She stared at him. James had obviously not liked the news, shock and fear written all over his face. Y/N had been scared that this was going to happen. In fact, she had almost expected it. But she had been surprised when he still showed enough care to stop her from picking at her fingers until they bled. 

Maybe there was a potential for hope. 

“I’m pregnant.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Mine?” She nodded. 

“Yours.” James mumbled under his breath. Y/N watched as he paced back and forth in front of the pool. Y/N watched him, growing slightly more stressed with each stride he took. Her eyes followed his feet, repeating her mannerisms from the other night. She refused to look in his face. She had let so many people down by allowing this to happen, and in the end, she still wasn’t sure what she would lose or keep. “Can you stop pacing please?” Y/N asked quietly. “You’re stressing me out.” 

“Stressing you out-” James paused, finally stopping to stare at Y/N. She had shrunk into herself and despite his attempt at stopping her from picking at her fingers, she still continued to do so. His breath got caught in his throat. What was he to do? His parents, especially his father, would not allow this. He would see it as a scandal and do everything in his power to separate Y/N from him and keep it that way. 

James had to do something first. 

He stopped his pacing, and sat on the opposite end of the bench that she sat on. James hunched forward, running his hand down his face as he ran through different possibilities in his mind. 

“You don’t want this right now, do you?” Y/N asked. His head whipped up and towards her. She was staring at him, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. James opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say, willing himself to say anything, but nothing came. He closed his mouth, but kept eye contact with her. Y/N searched his eyes for anything, anything that might tell her what exactly it was that he wanted. 

“I don’t know.” He finally said. 

Even if it wasn’t a definitive answer, those three words still punched a hole in Y/N’s stomach. She swallowed thickly, turning her head away from him and looked towards the pool. Her eyes flickered over the waving surface, suddenly interested in the way that the sun showed on the ripples created by the slight breeze, watching as the sun rays bounced off the bottom floor. 

“I mean. You have to understand, Y/N.” James went silent again for a few seconds. “This is a tough thing at our ages. And your parents might be more accommodating, but mine-” 

“Are you basing your decision off of what you want, or what they would want?” Y/N turned back to him. He didn’t even have to answer it. She knew the answer before he answered it himself. 

“Y/N, you know how my parents-” 

“And that’s enough to potentially think about walking away from me and your unborn child?” She asked. James went silent and averted his gaze. His eyes peered down at his shoes, taking note of the scuff and dirt marks that he had never really noticed until now. They were dirt and scuff marks that his father wouldn’t stand for. 

His father. 

He turned back to Y/N, who now had tears streaming down her face. A sigh escaped her lips and James was almost expecting more to come from her mouth. He had already felt bad enough that he was leaning more towards the thoughts of his father, but the more he thought about it, he was almost protecting her. If his father ever found out, he didn’t know what would happen. 

“I won’t be mad.” She finally spoke, and James was beyond surprised. He had indeed expected more from her. Not this. He didn’t expect her to be as understanding in this moment that she currently was being. A child was supposed to have their father in their lives. And this one wouldn’t. 

James was silent for several moments. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No. I’m sorry.” Looking in her face, James knew she was being genuine. “I should have done more.” 

“No stop.” He said. “We both had a part to play in this.” 

And with that, both went silent. They remained on opposite ends of the bench, until enough time had passed and James had decided it was time to leave. He itched to hold her one last time, knowing that once he walked out of the front door, things were going to change. However, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

But she did. 

As he walked by her, she grabbed his hand, staring up at him. He stared down at her, but couldn’t offer her a smile, not that she had one to give back.

“Can I find you in a few years?” He asked. ‘When I don’t have to answer to my father?,’ he almost wanted to say, but he stayed silent. 

“Maybe.” Her heart broke some more. 

And then he was gone. 

—--

After finding out that she was pregnant, Y/N had opted to continue her classwork remotely, only making visits to Maxton Hall in the first few months of her pregnancy. After she started showing, she had stopped, not wanting to raise questions or a potential scandal amongst the students there. 

When the children were born, Y/N knew that things would be okay. 

Twins. She had twins, and the only thing that she could think of were the Beauforts. A boy and a girl. The baby girl definitely had the looks of James more than the baby boy did. Y/N figured that she might be the troublemaker of the two in the coming years. The baby boy was quiet and good, the opposite of his sister, which was ironic, considering it was the other way around for both Lydia and James. 

Raising the twins though had actually been easier than she expected, especially with the help of her parents. Certain moments had been a bit tougher, like when Y/N had to take them in for vaccinations and doctor appointments. Listening to them cry their little hearts out because of being poked had broken her own heart. Many moments, she had wished that James was around to witness his kids grow up into the young children they were growing up to be. 

Even as they grew up, even if James wasn’t there, she still acted as if he was. Y/N told the kids stories about their father and what he was like. After all this time, she still loved him.She loved him enough that she wished that he had been around to witness their first steps, to experience their first words, etc. In general, Y/N had just wished that he was there. 

Especially now, walking through the park. The twins were a little over the age of four. They stomped around Y/N, giggling and laughing. They brought a smile to her face, making her happy when she thought that things were turning for the worst. She now knew that things weren’t going to turn out as bad as she had expected the day she found out she was pregnant. 

She came back to earth after hearing one of her kids let out a surprised shout. Y/N looked around, seeing her son on the ground, seemingly unhurt and okay. D/N had hurried over in an attempt to help him up, but the man S/N had ran into had helped him up first. 

“Sorry kiddo. Didn’t see you.” The man looked up and around, seeing Y/N. 

Her world stopped at that very moment, for the man that stood before her, she never expected to see again. 

“James.” 

“Y/N” The two a few feet apart and S/N and D/N were now next to their mother. James had already put two and two together, his eyes now focused on his kids. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing was spoken. His eyes moved to look at Y/N, who only smiled softly at him. It almost seemed sad. 

“What are you doing here?” He finally asked. 

“On a walk with the kids. Wanted to give mom and dad some peace and quiet.” Y/N explained. “What about you?” she asked. 

“I was just at a business meeting. I decided to cut through the park to get to my car.” His eyes were focused back on the kids, who stared up at him with large eyes. They hid partially behind Y/N. He could definitely see himself in both of them. 

“What are their names?” 

“D/N and S/N” Their names rolled off James tongue easily. Y/N followed his gaze to the kids, before shooing them away. “How about you two go play on the slide? I’m right here, I’ll be watching you.” The two ran off towards the slide without any hesitation, their giggles could be heard as they raced. 

“How are they?” he asked, watching their movement. Y/N watched James, taking in his appearance. He really hadn’t changed much. James still looked like himself. 

“They are good kids. Healthy. Take after us, that’s for sure.” She laughed a little, took a step closer to James as they now both watched the kids. 

“Do they know about me?” 

“Yea.” Y/N spoke softly. “I tell them stories about you. From school, what you’re like, just a bunch of things about you.” She said, “They’ve been coming up with their own questions lately.” James turned his attention to her. His eyes trailed over her form, taking her in, before looking back at the kids. 

“Like what?” He hesitated in looking back at her, before finally turning his head back towards her, but their eyes didn’t meet. She watched her children, a sad look in her eyes. Like she wanted to give them so much more than they already had in that moment. “Y/N.” She turned to him. 

“Hmm?”

“Would you be mad or upset with me now, if I asked if I could be in their lives?” he asked. Her smile looked a little less sad. 

“Never. You have every right to be in their lives. I can tell you right now that they want you in their lives. I can guarantee it.” Y/N turned to face him. “We can do whatever works. We can set up visitation times. Or you can take them whenever you want. We can work something out.” James nodded along, listening to her and the suggestions. He was silent for several seconds, and he knew that she was waiting for something from him. 

“Could we, maybe. Perhaps…could we try things over again?” Her smile seemed even brighter. 

“I think so.” She said softly. “I understood why you didn’t want anything at first. Yea, it took some time to adjust and get used to. I missed you terribly, but I want to work on things, especially between us. And that’s not only for us, but for them.” The two turned their attention back to the kids, who were running around, their high pitched giggles filling the air as they laughed. 

By the end of the night, after being invited for dinner with Y/N, her kids, and her parents, James had started to wedge himself back into their lives. His son and daughter were latched to him, never really letting him out of their sight. They told him everything that they could, as James stared at them, love apparent in his eyes and he listened to what they had to say. 

This was it. This is what he wanted. After everything that he already had, this was it. 

And as he looked up and his eyes found Y/N’s, already staring at him with the kids, and he had seen the smile she had adorned her face, he knew already that he was willing to give up anything to keep this. 

And she would let him. 

------

@sillyfreakfanparty @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @benbarnesprettygurl

[munsonsfairy]

cowboy cowboy 🍒🥧🤎

ib layout: @beforeimdeceased

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ sfw

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who sees you pulled over to the side of the road looking into the hood of your old truck. he sees you standing in front of it with no clue of what is wrong.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who’s voice is sweet and warm like apple pie. his dimples have you giggling like a high school girl.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who refuses to take your money after fixing your truck, but does say, “i think a home cooked meal will do the trick, sweet girl.”

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who shows up to your door in white shirt and blue jeans that hug his legs in all the right places. he has a bouquet of wildflowers wrapped in newspaper and you swear you could kiss him.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who could instantly melt seeing you in an apron with a floral dress underneath. the porch light shines the color of your eyes just right and he wishes he could stare at them forever.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who blushes when you pull him into a hug giving him a chance to smell your perfume.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who sits at the table and watches you do your things in the kitchen. you’re babbling about your job at the local nursery and he can’t help but admire how animated you get while talking.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who wishes he kissed you that night after dinner, but he promises himself next time.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who talks real slow ‘cause his uncle is in the other sleeping before work.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who takes you driving through the backroads. you’re sitting shotgun with your hair undone in the front seat of his truck.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who lays with you in the back of his chevy truck to look up at the stars. when he looks up, he just stares at you with love and whispers, “the way your eyes shine puts these indiana stars to shame.”

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who promises to build you the life you dream of. he probably can’t buy it but he will try his hardest to give you everything you deserve.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who kisses you that night under the stars. it’s passionate and breathless. his rough hands hold you close to him as if he’s scared you’ll disappear.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who’s favorite thing to do after a long day is sit on the porch swing with you cuddled into his chest. he will sometimes smoke a cigarette or sip on some warm honey tea you made. (it’s usually the tea lol).

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who stopped his truck during a tim mcgraw song and dragged you in front of the headlights just to slow dance. your head laid on his chest and it suddenly felt like home.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ nsfw

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who has you pinned down in the back of his truck. his mouth leaves sloppy kisses on your neck while he thrusts deep inside you.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who whimpers when you pull his hair while his tongue laps around your clit. his rough fingers fill up your hole having you cry tears of pleasure.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who makes you rub yourself against his bulge when you give him an attitude. he sits back smoking a cigarette while you cry and leave marks all over him — begging him to have his way with you.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who ties you up in the barn and has his way with you when he needs a break from working. the warm breeze hardens your nipples making eddie lose his mind.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who is the sweetest man ever to your parents only to have you bent over the sink while you’re washing dishes. you see his reflection in the window with his shirt unbuttoned and sweat dripping down his chest.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who wants to make you barefoot and pregnant so always finds a chance to fill you up. loves to watch his cum leak out of your abused pussy then uses two fingers to fuck it back inside. doing this only makes him hard again, “gotta make sure it stays inside sweet girl.”

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who watches you from across the ranch. you’re wearing your a cami with your panties — his favorite too. he has his hands on his hips with a smirk on his lips. you’re “watering the flowers,” but he knows damn well what you’re doing. “saw you lookin’ so cute from other there. think i don’t know what what you’re doing?”

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who isn’t giving you enough attention so you lay in his truck with nothing on. he hears your whimpering along with your wet pussy being fucked by your dildo. he’ll stand in front of the door and lean in making his muscles more prominent only sending you over the edge. eddie eddie eddie is all he hears. he licks his lips when he sees you cum all around the toy.

ꕥ cowboy!eddie who sits you at the edge of the tailgate with your legs wide open for him. your fingers are buried in his head of curls. his hand reaches up for your tits when his tongue flicks your clit. when you try to hide your moans, he squeezes your cheeks open with his rough hand then slaps you. “next time it’ll be harder if you don’t let me hear those pretty noises.”

[rotten-pomegranate]

Good morning 🌞, since requests are open, can I please get head cannon ask for how the adult trio with feitan, shalnark and phinks would react if reader successfully escaped them for years. Please I want reader to win just once 😭🙏🏾

Yes you can ���🏻

I wasn’t sure if they were supposed to catch you in the end but I made like that

Warnings: mentions of torture, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of rape

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

Feitan

Feitans gonna be pissed and offended that you have so little respect for him you escaped and when he finds you it’s hell

you should have killed yourself when you got away because the things he’s gonna do to you and Any friends you made along the way will make death seem like the better option by a lot

You don’t get any privileges your always chained up and you only get enough food and water to survive

He was being nice before, holding himself back, but not anymore now he does anything and everything he wants

Shalnark

He’s gonna be sad he knows he wasn’t the best but was he that bad?

He’s gonna track you down eventually, probably one of the quickest to find you, I’m talking three years or so

When he finds you he just mocks you, like you really thought he wouldn’t find you how cute

He’s gonna stick you with antenna a lot more often to make you do stuff you would never willingly do and he’s gonna make sure you remember every bit of it

Phinks

He’s heartbroken, you didn’t love him? Sure he kidnapped you but he was so nice, he got you gifts, fed you, never forced you to do anything and he let you do whatever you wanted in the fairly big house (he’s a but Delusional)

He’s a close second to shalnark when it comes to finding you in sense of time give or take about three and a half years

When he does find you he’s not gonna be as nice as he was before, your not gonna get sweet little gifts or the privilege to go around the house freely and he’s not gonna brush off your attitude anymore, from now on your getting locked away when you give him any sass

Chrollo

even though he tried his hardest to prevent it He knew it would happen eventually, he let his guard slip gave you to much freedom

It’s gonna take him about five years to find you because he has to focus on other stuff such as the troupe

When he gets you back your never gonna see the light of day again, your locked I and chained In his basement from now on and while it’s a nice basement with carpeted floors, a nice bathroom and a big bed with lots of fluffy blankets that he often joins you in your only there for his pleasure now

He regularly pins you down and forces you to do stuff that he didn’t make you do before whispering how it Could be different the whole time

Illumi

Illumi is savage, has every person in the zoldyck manor out looking for you and that intensity doesn’t go down if anything it gets worse the longer it takes to find you

It’ll take him about four years to find you and when he does your in for it

First he’s gonna beat you black and blue, he’s gonna break both you legs in the process and that’s the only thing you’ll be allowed to see a doctor about

He’s gonna try and get you pregnant as soon as he can and if you where kicking and screaming before he would have stopped but not anymore now your getting tied to the bed frame and having a gag in your mouth

Hisoka

He’s the calmest out of all of them, he knew it would happen, he’s not happy about it but he’s not a total mess like some of these guys

It’s not his top priority to find you but it is up there, so it’s gonna take him about seven years to find you

When he finds you your getting the beating of a life time, I’m talking broken ribs, and kicked out teeth, he will pay machi to come fix you up but he might do it again if you annoy him

He didn’t hit you before but he does now, oh you dropped a glass worth ten bucks? Your getting smacked up side the head

And lastly from now on when you sleep it’s on the cold ground with a chain leash attached to his bed frame around your neck no more comfortable pillows

©rotten-pomegranate- All rights reserved, don’t steal, translate, copy, plagiarize, claim my work as your own or post it on other platforms.

[b0n3s-is-gay]

I loved your breeding kink with dal and soda, can you do one with darry?

Of course I can, I do love me some Darry Smut since this man doesn't get the appreciation that he deserves.

Me + You = A New

Synopsis: Darry doesn't know what started this whole "I wanna baby" thing.. Probably just watching his girlfriend take care of the gang, the little mundane things she does for them... All he knows is that he wants to get her pregnant like, yesterday.

Tags/CWs: Smut, There's some plot here for once, breeding kink, Mommy kink(?), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), p in v, praise, pet names, allusions to breastfeeding kink (if you squint), fem reader, fluffy smut, set after the events of the book/movie.

AN: I should be writing my editorial for Journalism about the death penalty, but I'm writing smut. What does that say about my life?

(credit for the banner: @ioveartfilm)

"Pony, come on... Trigonometry is not that hard. Remember SOH CAH TOA. Sine is Opposite over Hypotenuse, Cosine is Adjacent over Hypotenuse, and Tan is Opposite over Adjacent." She explained gently as she sewed a button back onto Sodapop's shirt.

Darry watched from his chair, watching as she interacted with his younger brothers. Ponyboy was getting help from her as he did his Trigonometry homework and Sodapop was asking her for help repairing his work shirts. It was nice, but the house was missing something... Something that Darry wanted.

Kids.

That was what Darry wanted, more than anything. Darry wanted kids. It was either the thought of having kids with the women he loved, surrounded with the people he loved. Or... Maybe it was the thought of getting her pregnant, knowing it was his kid that she was carrying.

"You got it, Pony? You understand the assignment now?" She asked, her soft voice drawing Darry out of his breeding filled fantasy. She had just finished fixing Sodapop's shirt and she was now focused solely on helping Ponyboy with his homework.

Ponyboy nodded as she stood up and went to Sodapop and Ponyboy's room to put Soda's work shirt in their dresser. Leaving Darry to his thoughts and the quiet scratching of Pony's pencil against his paper. Sighing, Darry followed after her. He watched her as she handed Soda his shirt before turning to leave, ending up running into Darry's chest. "Darry, sweet heart, mind moving?" She smiled as she looked up at his face. God that smile, if they were to ever have kids... He'd want them to have her smile and his eyes. It was just a thought, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted that to be a reality. "Yeah..." Darry nodded and stepped to the side, watching her head to the master bedroom to get into something more comfortable. Not even a moment later, he follows behind her, wanting to talk.

They had talked of kids before, of the future. Marriage was on the table, later down the line of course. Kids were in the fold, regardless of marital status. After all, they weren't struggling as much as they were when Ponyboy was in 9th grade. Maybe, just fucking maybe a bit of tongue work could work.

"Darry, what's on your mind? Since you walked through that door tonight, you've been watching me and the boys like a hawk. Is something wrong?" She spoke when she noticed him enter their room, her clothes already halfway to the floor.

Darry frowned as he sat down on the edge of their bed, watching her change. He couldn't say much with what his mind was thinking... Swollen breasts and a pregnant belly... Ah hell, won't kill me to tell her.

"I want kids, hon. I want to have a baby with you." He said after a minute. Making her stop in her tracks, her task of changing being forgotten. She looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow, asking him to explain.

Darry, ever the mature person, didn't know how to explain it better. So rather than taking a step back and coming up with a better way to talk about it, just spilt his guts. "I watch how you interact with the gang, my brothers, and your nieces. And fuck... It makes me think of how much we can have, the kids we could have."

Darry paused for a minute, watching her face before continuing. "I can't stop thinking about it. We're not struggling for money like we were when Pony was in 9th grade. We have the money and the though of seeing you holding our child just makes me feel happy."

"Well... That was out of left field, but I don't see why not. But are you sure you want this? I mean, kids are a big step in any relationship, take a lot of money, and take a lot of time. And while we aren't struggling, are you sure it's a good idea for our kids to be brought into the world while there's a war goin' on?" She pointed out, all things true.

Darry nodded his head as he leaned back on their bed, resting on his elbows. "I'm sure... I just wanna know if you want that, if you want a family with me." His voice was soft, a drastic difference than what he usually presented.

She shook her head and smiled before climbing onto his lap, just in her underwear and bra. "Darrel, you ain't gotta ask me twice." She whispered as she slowly pushed a hand under his shirt and splayed her hand against his muscles.

A smile slowly formed on his lips before he leaned up to capture her lips in a searing kiss. Soft slowly melted into desperation as his hands found the back of her neck to pull her closer. Darry licked her bottom lip and smiled as she opened her mouth to him.

And that's all it took for him. Desperation took root, tongues and teeth were added to the mix, hands roaming her bare body as she helped him take off his clothes.

"Shit... You look so sexy Darrel..." She whispered when she pushed him back, panting as her eyes wandered over the newly exposed skin, ripe for the marking. Dreams were short lived as Darry swapped their positions. Darry on top because he just couldn't let his chance slip through his fingers like sand in an hour glass.

"Not as sexy as you'll be.. 'm gonna make you a momma... You want that? You want to be swollen and filled with my babies?" He panted as he unbuckled his jeans, his cock already hard and leaking. The promise of getting her pregnant was just so tantalizing.

Darry didn't give her a chance to answer before he slipped a finger inside her, his thumb starting to rub circles on her clit. "Hell... I can imagine it right now, I can feel it in my soul that we're gonna have a daughter. Shit... You're soaked..." He rambled while still fingering her, adding another finger into the mix.

"Darry, just fuck me... Make me a mommy..." She whispered as she pulled him down by the back of the neck, whispering in his ear.

That was all he needed, knowing she needed this just as much as he did. Darry pulled his fingers out after he deemed her prepped enough. "Fuck... Gonna put a baby in you, gonna make you mine..."

Darry rubbed the head of his dick in her folds, his tip catching on her clit before he slowly sank inside her. He sighed as he was squeezed, enjoying this as he gently moved his calloused hands to her hips. Darry closed his eyes as he leaned forward and rested his head in the crook of her neck, biting down to muffle his groans of pleasure.

"Shit... Darry, move, please..." She whispered as she wrapped her legs around his waist, begging him to move as she slowly grinded up to get some stimulation. Darry, ever the gentleman, listened to her begging tone and started to slowly thrust.

His head remained on her shoulder, his hot breath and small words of praises fanning against her skin. "Damn babe... You look so pretty, feel even better..." Darry murmured as he slowly started to speed up.

"Can't wait for you to be swollen with my kids, everyone will know you're My. Girl..." Darry sighed as he pulled back to look at her, punctuating his words with a hard roll of his hips. "You'll be a pretty mommy, taking such good care of 'em.."

She smiled as she pulled him down for a kiss, using it to muffle her moans of pleasure. "Gonna be a good mommy..." She whispered against his lips while he slowly lost himself in the thought of getting her knocked up.

"Shit... Gonna cum..." She whispered after a particularly rough thrust against her g-spot, her clit rubbing against his taut muscles. Darry licked his lips as he sped up again, signaling that he was about to cum too.

"Fuck... Fuuck..." Darry moaned against her ear as he reached down to rub her clit, felling her clench around him the second he touched the bundle of nerves. "Mmph.... Come on pretty girl, cum for me..."

"Dar... Darry fuck... Darry!" She moaned against his lips, clenching around him as she came. Darry wasn't far behind her as he fucked his seed into her cunt, moaning softly against her skin before he relaxed.

"Holy shit..." Darry whispered as he calmed down, still holding her hips. "Round 2?"

[wroteclassicaly]

Steve Harrington definitely has a daddy AND breeding kink

Man gave himself away when he hopped into that convertible and said fuck you to Toddfather. Wearing those tight little jeans and talking about wanting six babies, like… okay, let’s see your swimmers, bitch 😂

Warnings: Breeding kink, daddy kink, NSFW, smut, and language!

Steve is absolutely a man that is feral when it comes to all things Mother Nature. He’s not bothered by your period, simply remarks he could fix that for nine months if you’d let him, as he’s simultaneously waving your pads or tampons in your face. And during ovulation? He’s often coming up as you take your birth control, hand around the water, his large palm wraps around your own, other hand taking the small pill packet from you. He’s nosing his way into gaping the collar of your shirt, that hot mouth laying kisses across your flesh.

“Maybe don’t worry about it this month?”

“Steve…” you warn, already prepared to thwart those toe curling advances.

Because if there’s one thing Steve Harrington does, it’s completing his purpose with an intense vigor. And that includes sex—namely—your pleasure, your orgasms, and the idea of pumping you so full of his cum that you become pregnant with twins. After all, his mom said once that they might run in the family.

“C’mon, honey. Why not?”

You sign into his wet kisses, body ignited with a pressing electricity. “Because, babies aren’t glamorous, Steve. You like the idea of them, sure, but—“

He frowns, one of which you can feel against your neck. He pulls away with a look of sadness. “You think I don’t know we wouldn’t get any sleep, would probably be covered in baby shit and vomit? We’d argue, we would miss a lot of sex and date nights? That about cover it?” He finishes, taking in your shell-shocked expression.

He’s put a lot of thought into this.

“What’s wrong with cleaning up little baby puke, versus monster guts and blood? I can handle it, I know I can.” He’s firm, a soft strength you rarely hear from him. You’re on the cusp of full blown admiration. Ah, fuck it. You’re already there.

“Steve—“

“I know what I want and I want that with you. Didn’t you tell me that you’re the one who knows where to get a good deal on an RV, huh?”

The conversation of Steve’s six nuggets that he’d dreamt of having with you, life so short and precious after everything you’d all went through. And you’re always positive that your future belongs to Steve Harrington, and that his children are yours—together. The mere idea of creating a whole human being that belongs to you and him? He’s already Cheshire grinning, milky white teeth on display. “Tits full of milk to feed our child. Belly swollen. Fuck, honey. We’re gonna have to get you a real nice nightgown, yeah? Something you can slip off easily when you’re sore.”

Steve loves lingerie on your body? And pregnant, shrouded in various slivers of silk, satin, and lace?

~*~

His daddy kink can go both ways. Pregnant or not. When he’s taking you deeper and deeper, pressing your face into the bed with his large hand, cock catching on your sopping wet walls. Making you beg to take him down and gag.

“Who’s daddy’s good girl?”

[babydollmarauders]

FOREVERMORE — JOHN MARINO

part of the Maraschino Cherry! AU

y/nmercer

liked by john.marino97, nhl, and 5,743 others

y/nmercer sorry daws, i think john’s gift has your stuffed dino present beat

i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, i love you forevermore, my sweet cherry 🤍❤️

tagged john.marino97

Load more comments

dawson1417 he one upped me!

y/nmercer i think he triple upped you, bubba

dawson1417 that bitch 😒

dawson1417 but fr, i’m happy for you guys! congratulations, bubby ❤️ you’re getting the happily ever after you deserve

y/nmercer DON’T MAKE ME CRY AGAIN, PLEASE! I CAN’T KEEP FIXING MY MAKEUP

john.marino97 so enchanted by the thought of forever with you 🤍

y/nmercer stfu and kiss me before i cry into your pillow and leave mascara on it

john.marino97 why MY pillow?

y/nmercer so that every night you have to sleep with the reminder that you made me cry

john.marino97 GOOD tears! but i’ll always kiss you regardless

user87 did they not JUST start dating?!

y/nmercer we’ve been together for 8 months, known each other for 14! but when you know, you know 🤍

user63 shotgun wedding???

y/nmercer haha no! not pregnant! just hopelessly in love and eternally grateful to be able to marry him!

user90 your love is so pure 🥹

jackhughes WHAT?! WHY DIDN’T I KNOW HE WAS PROPOSING??

naterbastian i did

jackhughes @/john.marino97 YOU TOLD BASS AND NOT ME??

john.marino97 you would’ve let it slip in 0.5 seconds

jackhughes congrats, i guess 😒

y/nmercer thanks, i guess ?

naterbastian congratulations, can’t wait to be the best man!

john.marino97 i hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Paul is gonna be my best man

naterbastian that’s chill, i’ll be the man of honor!

y/nmercer well this is awkward…. dawson will be being my man of honor 🫶🏻

naterbastian damn twins

naterbastian fine, i’ll settle for groomsman

john.marino97 THAT, you can do!

nicohischier congratulations ❤️ wishing you two nothing but happiness

y/nmercer oh buggaboo 🥺 thank you!

njdevils A CHRISTMAS ENGAGEMENT!! WE LOVE TO SEE IT!!

user12 imagine meeting your future husband through your twin brother… brb crying

nhl congratulations to the future Mr. and Mrs. Marino! 💍❤️

user28 a quick engagement…. either she’s a gold digger or she really moves fast

user93 he’s the one who proposed?? also, she wouldn’t need to gold dig, she’s an independent woman with her own job. and even if she wasn’t, it’s pretty obvious she and her brother (who is also in the nhl!) are super close and he would probably be more than happy to pay for everything for her lmao. she and john are obviously just in love and know that they’re it for each other. and for all we know, they could have a long engagement, but even if they eloped tomorrow it would be none of our business

liked by y/nmercer

jesperbratt does this mean i have to call you “little Marino” instead?

y/nmercer well, eventually yes! but not yet!

lhughes_06 MRS. MARASCHINO CHERRY COMING 2k24???

y/nmercer we’re not sure on when yet, but MRS. MARASCHINO CHERRY!!

john.marino97 my future wife 🤍

lhughes_06 @/john.marino97 are you my new dad?

john.marino97 i don’t know how to answer that

y/nmercer yes he is! be kind to him!

john.marino97 so our first child is… a 20 year old that already has parents of his own?

lhughes_06 daddy!

john.marino97 don’t.

[makeyoumine69]

Hey there! Congratulations on reaching 2k! Your work deserves more recognition. Speaking of celebration, you'd probably call me crazy and I'd understand, but if there's any way you could write a prompt about a reader who's pregnant but has to stay in hospital so Patrick has to cheer her up with some naughty things. I'm addicted to daddy and breeding kinks, so you'll make me so happy if you write it, but you can ignore me if you don't feel comfortable with this idea.

Painkiller

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: Even when hospitalized, you can't resist being all over Patrick, like he's some sort of magnet that draws you in. Patrick likes to think of himself as heartless, but the truth is, he can't resist you either, especially when you give him doe eyes and begs prettily.

— CONTAINS: Smut, cussing, handjob, dirty talk, pet names, Daddy kink, slight angst, pregnancy, mentions of violence.

— WORDS: 2k

— A/N: I have to admit that I really enjoyed writing this promtp, so I'm very grateful for such an interesting concept. Also, I'm currently trying to improve my writing by using new words and things like that, so feel free to give me your opinions and advices. As always, I hope you like it! 😘

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓

The doctor said you'd have to stay in hospital for at least a week, and your mood was getting worse, but you tried to pretend you were fine, as if it could work and Bateman wouldn't read you like an open book.

"You're probably very happy to have some time off from me," you said once Patrick came close to your hospital bed and trailed his hand along the metal rail. "I was so scared I was going to lose the baby." You sobbed and turned away from him, hiding your face in the pillow.

Patrick's face remained impassive as he stood by your bedside, his eyes fixed on your trembling form. Your words pierced through the layers of his detached facade, striking a chord within him that even he struggled to fully comprehend.

His hand hesitated for a moment before reaching out and gently resting on your shoulder, offering what little comfort he could muster. The weight of your vulnerability settled heavily upon him, stirring emotions that threatened to crack the carefully constructed shell he hid behind.

"I… I didn't want anything bad to happen either," Bateman managed to choke out, his voice laced with an unfamiliar tenderness. He took a small step closer, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back as you buried your face in the pillow.

The sight of your tears tugged at something deep within Patrick — a longing for connection and understanding that had long been suppressed beneath layers of violence and detachment. In this moment, faced with your raw vulnerability, it was impossible for him to ignore the fragile thread that connected both of you.

Gently turning you towards him so your eyes met once more, Patrick fought against the turmoil raging inside him. It was foreign territory — an uncharted landscape where vulnerability dared to exist alongside his darkness.

“(Y/n), you need to rest,” was all he managed to mutter, his large palm kept stroking your shoulder. “When you wake up, I’ll be here.”

Bateman didn't need much persuading as you drifted off to sleep, and after that he sat on the couch next to your bed, watching your chest rise and fall. It was a very short time before you suddenly began to whimper in your dream, calling for him.

Patrick's eyes were glued to your form as he watched you start to writhe around the bed in your dream. The usual steely gaze in his eyes softened, momentarily replaced by a flicker of worry. As you began to whimper in your sleep, his heart clenched tightly.

It was a strange sensation, an unsettling mix of annoyance and, inexplicably, concern. His devil-may-care demeanor slipped as his brows furrowed in a rare sign of worry. The distinct call of his name shot through him, jolting him out of his observations.

"Fuck." Bateman muttered under his breath as he quickly rose to his feet.

It was disconcerting, to say the least.

With an odd sense of urgency, he made his way to the side of your bed. Standing there, he watched your pitifully distressed expression in your sleep, his mind grappling with what he should do.

"I'm here, (y/n)," he finally muttered softly, as if hoping his words could offer you some solace. Patrick reluctantly reached out to touch you, his hand hovering over your body for a moment before finally resting gently over yours. His thumb moved in careful circles over your skin, attempting to provide an unfamiliar comfort.

"Fuck. What the hell am I supposed to do?" Bateman murmured, addressing no one but himself. He found himself oddly captivated and unsettled by the vulnerability, his own included, that the night had brought about.

When you felt his touch, you woke up to see his worried gaze. "Patrick, my love," you whimpered, sitting on the hospital bed. Your pregnancy bump was so big already that you had to be careful when you sat up. "I had a bad dream…Can you hold me, please?"

The desperation in your plea hit Patrick like a punch to the gut.

Shit, he thought, gritting his teeth. He was Patrick Bateman, a man unaccustomed to offering comfort, especially in such tender moments. His life was a well-orchestrated symphony of controlled chaos and bloody violence, not late-night cuddles and shared intimacies. And yet, as he stared at you — the mother of his unborn child — he couldn't suppress the unfamiliar tug at his heartstrings.

Swallowing back his apprehension, he mumbled: "Alright, doll. Just… fucking hell, give me a moment."

Patrick took a hesitant step toward you, his thin fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides. With a deep, controlled inhale, he extended a hand towards you, resting it gently on your protruding belly. The sensation sent an unfamiliar jolt through him, momentarily silencing him.

"Well, shit. Here we go." Bateman muttered, awkwardly maneuvering himself onto the bed and next to you, his body stiff and unnatural in the unusual position.

His uncertainty melted away with the familiar warmth of your reliance on him, power dynamics shifting in unexpected ways. With a heavy sigh, he wrapped an arm around you, drawing you in close, too caught up in your twisted little world to question the impending shitstorm he was sure to face when dawn broke. "Damn, (y/n)," he muttered, hiding his discomfort behind the familiar veil of profanities. "You owe me for this."

Breaking heavily, you ran your fingers along his broad chest, your heart beating against your ribcage at his words.

"How can I return the favor, Daddy?" You asked, lifting your innocent eyes at him while your hand traced along his inviting groin.

Patrick's whole body went rigid at your sudden courage.

It was a daring move on your part, and his immediate reaction was a guttural curse. "Fucking hell, babe," he growled lowly, striving to keep his composure. Despite the coarse words, he didn't pull away, harshly conflicted between desire and his usual detachment. "Daddy, huh?" A wicked grin spread across his face at your choice of words.

Bateman couldn't help but find the situation somewhat amusing, a much-needed relief given the nauseating state of his existence. He cast a sidelong glance at you, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed your faux innocence. "Are you ready to play with fire, my dear wife?" Patrick challenged, his voice oozing arrogance and dark amusement, a stark contrast to the situation they found themselves in — your hand on his manhood, in the hospital, waiting for their kid. A manic laughter bubbled in his chest at the absurdity of it all, slipping out in an almost silent huff. "I've received my fair share of blowjobs, but this," Patrick drawled, gripping your hand on top of his pants, arching a brow at you. "This would be one for the books."

You couldn’t help but gasp at his touch. "But what if someone comes in?" You asked naively, ignoring the fact that it was already night.

Patrick curled an eyebrow at you, an amused smirk forming on his lips. "So what?" He retorted mockingly, the challenging glint in his eyes reflecting his twisted thrill for risk. "I mean, wouldn't that just add to the fun?" he continued, his hand tightening around yours, the blatant disregard for the possible consequences typical of his reckless, self-indulgent nature."Besides," he added, his voice dropping to a malicious whisper. "Do you really think I give a shit, (y/n)?" He chuckled, his laughter echoing harshly in the stark hospital room.

In his world, such niceties as propriety and privacy were worth nothing more than the dirt under his designer shoes. Patrick obeyed no rules but his own. And right now, his rules were beginning to look a hell of a lot more interesting.

You looked down at your swollen belly, which made it so hard for you to bend down, so you decided to find a compromise. "How about a handjob?" You asked and unzipped his pants, teasing his hard length through his fancy underwear.

Caught off-guard by your proposition, Patrick was momentarily speechless, the intrusive sound of his heartbeat all he could hear besides the low hum of the hospital's air conditioning.

"A handjob? Really?" Bateman muttered with an incredulous laugh. But beneath the surface, he was intrigued. The expectancy in your eyes, the daringness of your manner, and the feel of your hand against him were potent enough to stoke his interest, like a moth drawn to open flame.

Patrick let out a hiss as he felt your hand wrapped around him, his eyes narrowed with an intense, predatory gaze. "Fuck," he ground out, his composure faltering. He was uncomfortably aware of the strange mix of emotions this situation was igniting. Driving his hand into your hair, Patrick tugged your closer, the anticipation tightening his features into a mask of dark desire. "A handjob is fine." He finally consented, his voice as cold as winter's frostbite.

He was not a man to refuse a challenge or deny his twisted desires, and this situation was no exception. The game was on, and he was ready to play ball.

Huffing, you were doing your best to give him a good pump, although your pregnancy bump made you feel very clumsy. With a shy smile, you leaned closer to his face to find his plump lips and pulled him into a deep kiss as your hand worked to bring him pleasure. Thank God it's dark in the hospital room and he couldn’t see your embarrassment.

"Daddy… I… I want you to fuck me right here and right now, but I don't know how we're going to do it since we're in the hospital,"you mumbled, feeling shame burning inside of you. "I'm so sorry for asking."

Patrick's heart pounded wildly in his chest at your words. A sense of elation mixed with fear passed through him, creating a feeling of sickening pleasure. The thought of being caught in such a compromising position added fuel to his already burning desire.

"Oh? You want Daddy to fuck you right here?" Bateman scoffed, his voice a low, predatory growl. "You're a dirty fucking whore. A pregnant whore." He added, his words dripping with contempt.

He could feel his pulse quickening as he thought about the risk involved, the scandal it would cause, the thrill of the danger. His eyes gleamed with a perverse enjoyment. "Well, babydoll," his voice came out breathless. "I guess we'll just have to figure it out, won't we?"

With that, Bateman pulled you closer, sealing your lips in a harsh, needy kiss while his free hand roamed over your body, desperate to claim you in the twisted way only he could achieve.

“There's a bathroom," you murmured breathlessly and stroked his thick dick several times. "Maybe we can go there?"

Patrick grunted in response, his body humming with anticipation at the suggestion. "You're a shameless fucking slut," he muttered against your trembling lips, but there was a calculated gleam in his eye that suggested approval."We'll get there," he whispered, his fingers tightening on your body. "But not before I've finished with what you've started."

He grinned wickedly down at you, his hand sliding with purposeful intent down your little frame towards the curve of your abdomen. The fact that the child growing inside of you was his own, twisted his pleasure into something even more perverse.

Hot and bothered, you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip from the burning desire inside your gut, so you had to close your eyes and gasp: “You will probably have to shush me, Daddy.”

Patrick chuckled darkly at your words, a thrill shooting through him. "Oh, baby," he murmured huskily. "I think I can handle that."

Bateman moved closer, reaching out to cover your mouth with his hand, he could feel your hot breath brushing against his skin, your panting filling the small space.

God, you were so fucking insatiable.

"Now, be a good girl and keep those pretty lips of yours quiet." He drawled, his eyes ablaze with wicked intent. Patrick lowered his head, pressing a fierce kiss on the side of your neck.

P.S. I'm thinking of writing part two, so let me know if you're interested. Thanks for reading! 💗🖤💗

I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[sucknightz]

no thoughts, just eren being a good husband.

you and eren had a long day of shopping for the new nursery. your back and legs had been killing you the whole time, probably because you’re 8 months pregnant. you placed the bags on the kitchen counter with a sigh. “my back is killing meeee” eren laughs walking over to you. “i bet it is, we’ve been walking around for 3 hours.” he places a kiss on your forehead.

you giggle wrapping your arms around his neck. within a few seconds he picks you up carrying you bridal style to the room. “eren! aren’t i too heavy for this! put me down.” but eren made it seem like it was light work, it probably was considering how much working out he does. “you’re not heavy, shut up.”

once eren makes it to the room he lays your body down on your side of the bed, tucking you into the covers. “get some rest Y/n, you’ve been walking around all day. i’ll fix up the nursery.” a frown makes an appearance on your face. “can’t you worry about that later? i hardly see you.” which was true. with his job of being the ceo of jeager real estate, he’s never home. he took a couple weeks off so he could help you and with the nursery since it was coming closer to your due date.

erens eyes soften looking at you laying down with a frown on your face. “of course i can.” he walks over to his side of the bed getting under the covers with you. you move closer to him laying your head on his chest wrapping your arms around his torso holding him tight. erens arm goes down to your back pulling your shirt up so he can rub your back.

you smile already feeling better from all that walking and back pain. “i miss you.” you mutter quietly but enough for him to hear. eren leans down and kisses the top of your head whispering back, “im right here.”

—

I HAVE NO IDEA WHY BUT I JUST FIND SO MUCH JOY WHEN I WRITE ABOUT Y/N BEING PREGNANT, IT JUST MAKES ME SO HAPPY INSDE 😭. but anyways, thank you for reading :)!!

[igglemouse]

authors note: ignore the day, it's wednesday!

It's me again! Yep, still very pregnant and like usual craving pancakes as if my life depends on the. They are a good way to start a Wednesday morning, I guess they are a good way to start any morning. Stacked fluffy syrupy goodness!

As for my past well, life is all about moving forward, right? So let's do that. Not talking about my past and no dragging up my history with former and now very dead drug lords. Whatever happened in Selva stays in Selva and that's where I'd like to leave it.

Oh, you want to know if I feel guilty about it? Of course not. It was either me or him and as far as I'm concerned I've saved so many lives by eliminating that man from humanity. The world is better for it. Still...the blood...

"Wow, you are...scowling?" I remark in a somewhat tentative tone. It's rare to see Pascal's face twisted like this. Furrowed brows, dark eyes fixed on the plate as if it had wronged him, and without a word he's stuffing my glorious pancakes into his mouth. Not even savoring how perfectly made they were. It feels like he's just here to eat and nothing else but I can't help but ask; "Everything okay?"

His jaw tightens on a mouthful of food and I can see his adams apple drop as he swallows it as if he's a snake, ready to strike. "Did you see what they were saying about me last night?"

I blink. Of course I did not. As you know I do not follow fútbol. So I give my head a little shake. "No?"

This man kicks a ball for a living and I still do not get it. The world cares so much on every pass, every kick, every tackle, every card, and for me it is just a game. One he's going to make a lot of simoleons playing yet still. At least it brings me to the present and away from my past.

"On social media they-" he starts, still pissed, but I aim to cut him off before he gets going.

"Mi querido, you really can't worry about what others are saying about you, random people. Most of those guys probably wish they were you. None of it is true-"

"If you saw my recent games maybe you'd know some of it is true," after that he goes quiet and clearly wants the conversation to end so it does.

Since moving in with Pascal I've learned that when he is in a bad mood the best thing I can do is give him space and let him be. He likes to stew or better yet, he likes to work out his anger. Which is exactly what he does after breakfast but this time he's juggling the ball instead of taking it out on the now overused treadmill.

I spend some time cleaning the place since it's getting a little dirty and dusty and I do refuse to live in a dirty place!

So you could say my day was off to a so-so start. Nothing terrible but nothing amazing either. I expected the rest of the day to move along as usual and basically just be a buffer before the big day comes. You know, delivery day.

Unfortunately, it was not going to be a great day because the moment I opened my mailbox there was a letter addressed to me and letting me know that since I do not have a permit to operate my food stand in the park that I could no longer do so.

That's odd. It was pretty visible and no one stopped me then but I think we all know what this is about and who is behind this. Not sure there is much I can do. I could get a permit and open it back up but I really don't need this right now so consider the matter tabled.

But the day continues on, like it always does, indifferent to how I'm feeling and I'm feeling very hungry of course. I'm happy to dive into more pancakes and another meal as my mind is restless. Thinking and planning and worrying. She's close, I can feel it, she's just as restless, likely planning her own escape and I hope and pray to the watcher that she's ready for the world.

Across the table there is Pascal. Firmly seated and glued to his computer and his fingers tip tapping quickly on the keyboard. It sounds like he's replying and likely to a troll. I hope not. Word of advice, trolls live under the bridge and their entire goal is to stop you from crossing it. They are stuck there, under the bridge, hoping that you stop long enough so they can pull you off your path.

I scoot over to him, grabbing his attention with just my presence but his eyes are still locked on the screen so I clear my throat to take all of his attention. Once I have it I tell him about the situation with my food stand, the bad news and the uncertainty of what I will do moving forward. I'm thankful I have him because if I were still living alone I'd be in deep trouble. His response to it all is a little concerning.

"You're going to be a mother right?" He says, as if that just explains it. As if the rest of my life is so obvious now. "I doubt you'd have time for that thing any ways."

I am blinking at him and sitting up a little straighter and doing my best to take in what he's just said to me. "Time? It's not just 'that thing' to me, it's my passion!" Oh, my voice wavers a little, so I have to stop to make sure this doesn't turn into an argument. "Y-yes, you're right, I'll be a mama first, always, but that doesn't mean I can't do other things too."

Now it is his turn to look surprised, as if he would never suggest such a thing although he literally just did. "Oh, Frida, I didn't mean it like that," and for a moment I believe him to be innocent.

"Yeah," I begin again. Softer now, forgiving what I hope to be a slip up. "It's just...I was really enjoying it! It was mines. It was a testament to my drive and..." I stop and think about it. I could bring it back. Maybe one day I will but perhaps this is a sign too? "I think I'll start a SimTube channel. Martin can't take that away from me and-"

Pascal raises a brow and I realize this might be the first time he's heard of this plan of mine. "Oh? Why is that? Wouldn't that also take a lot of your time?" His tone isn't harsh or anything but the words still worry me. What is trying to say here?

"Y-yes," I stammer, quietly wondering if the question is innocent or if it should concern me. "But again, I don't want to be just a mother, you know? I still want to advance my career, my culinary career, you know?" I ask hoping he understands, giving him another chance.

"I just don't get it," he says but there is a soft edge to his tone now. This is something I didn't expect. Maybe the trolls have him frustrated? "I'm going to sign a new and bigger contract soon so you really don't have to work at all."

I think my heart skips a beat. He did just say that, right? Younger me wouldn't have had an issue with it. Oh no, not at all. The idea of some professional athlete picking me up off the streets and providing everything for me sounds nice. Sounds perfect. Oh and by younger me I mean me a year ago. Now? Well, now I know I can survive by myself. I appreciate he's going to be rich some day but still I want to me more than just his sidekick.

"Oh?" so my reply starts off snappy. "And what will I do with all that time?"

"I dunno?" he mutters in such a nonchalant way that it kind of ticks me off. "I just hear being a mom is a full time job so why have two? Just a suggestion, that's all."

But no, that's not all. I don't like his attitude towards this and so instead of letting the conversation get dropped I pick it up. "So you just want me here taking care of your children and home or-"

"Well Frida," Pascal is not bothered by my annoyed tone at all. "I'm going to be a world class athlete. Seems like its a privilege I'm offering," I'm about to say something because that feels almost like an insult to me. "It's not like that, I promise. Just saying! I think your first priority should be to our child and then the culinary stuff comes after, right?"

"Yeah..." I say glaring at him because he's right. A mother's first priority should be to her child, that is true, but isn't it true for the father as well? "I'm going to start a Simtube channel," I say with some determination.

He shrugs and smiles as if it makes no difference to him.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. That red flag is so big that it could cover a field but...it's just words, in the end, and no one is perfect.

I'm going to have this baby soon, VERY soon, and I'm driven to give her something I've never had. A family.

Frida Varela Index ~ Episode 8.3