#World PCOS Day

[xxxemilyg1996]

"Ah man, my dad's dead" me, just now remembering that my father is in fact, actually dead and has been for almost 3 years

[lalunanymph]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── as the last woman on earth, a government bounty marks you as humanity’s only hope for repopulation. unexpectedly, stumbling into your college football team becomes your lifeline, but instead of turning you in, they want to impregnate you on their own terms.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐆𝐀��𝐆𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 + 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 with isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, barou shoei, kunigami rensuke, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro & mikage reo

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── fem!reader, mentions of sexism in medicine, gangbang, breeding, cunninlingus, unprotected s*x, mild degradation, reader gets spanked once, mentions of food, mentions of babies, mentions of pregnancy, reverse harem, reader gets kidnapped, creampies, double penetration, nipple play, mentions of viral outbreaks, home isolation, mentions of human torture and experimentation, apocalypse AU, dark content ahead (10k+ words i am sick in the head)

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

One thing about life you were coming to find out in your short existence, was that it could change in the blink of an eye.

One day, you’re a popular cheerleader everyone loves, on the Dean’s List and speeding through to a life of accolades and financial stability, then the next, a viral outbreak spirals out of control, infecting and offing only women. 

It started with rapid coughing and sneezing. Many expert scientists cited a woman's inferior immune system compared to men. They barely paid any attention to the growing casualties in one half of the population, just like how they turned a blind eye to PCOS or the persistent chronic pain most women seemed to experience throughout their lives. 

As the voices of one half went unheard, the dire consequences slapped mankind fully in the face. 

Birth rates dropped, many nations lost their manpower and society became increasingly violent and hostile. 

Those women that were left were transferred to medical facilities under the guise of rehabilitating them. But, there were the rumours of abuse and medical experiments that arose from shady forums and chat groups. 

You had read some of them from Jienna’s laptop when she was still alive.

Your best friend and roommate was an advocate for women’s rights, even before the world hadn’t gone to shit, and she was the first one who opened your eyes to the blatant mistreatment women were going through official medical channels. When the virus hit, the both of you huddled in your shared dormitory, trading packets of ramen and stories while waiting for more aid to come. 

She always had such a bright smile and determination. The day the virus took her away from you was one you could never forget. 

Jienna laid on her bed, a grey pallor overtaking her once radiant skin. The skincare she religiously applied was gathering dust on her dresser, and everytime she exhaled, it sounded coarser and coarser.

Eventually, she closed her eyes and never awoke again, and you had to page the medical team to extract her body, all while tears streamed down your cheeks and you were hovering on the edge of a full meltdown.

Your family across the country couldn’t even come and see you; your brothers were barred from taking you back home, as every woman in the district was given strict orders to remain at home and behind locked doors to keep the virus away. 

But, it always managed to slip through the cracks. Whether it was from infected food or contaminated medical equipment. 

The virus killed any female it touched.

News reports began surfacing that hens were dying out, impacting the supply of eggs. Cows were dropping dead in fields, the world’s milk supply running dry for the first time in existence. The pregnant black cat you used to feed behind your dorms was found dead behind a dumpster by a group of computer science boys. 

Slowly, the world descended into chaos, and more and more women were disappearing.

It was exactly day 40 of your lockdown when you decided you would run away.

Packing every non-perishable canned food you could find into a big bag, you waited until dusk fell and when the nurses would hand you your dinner. You knew it would be one of the older security guys who used to direct parking on your campus, and he had a bad hip so he couldn’t chase you down. 

As much as you hated hurting him, the first punch in his face was enough to knock him out cold. You hopped over his body, careening down the hallway and pushing yourself towards the outside of the college campus. 

Luck was on your side when you dashed out the front door to find an idle truck. It was from one of the block rangers, and you didn’t hesitate to jump inside of it, revving the engine and stepping down on the gas pedal. 

Someone yelled out your name, but you were too fired up to care. In your mind, you decided it would be better to die from the virus than staying cooped up for the rest of your life. At least with dying, you would be free. 

You had no plan and no idea what to do next but to race towards the closest abandoned building you could find. Jienna had told you about it during her dying days—how there was a series of abandoned buildings just at the edge of town where defiant women stayed the last of their days there. 

Having seen with your own eyes what the virus did to your roommate, you were sure you were prepared to go out the same way. There would be a few days where your immune system fought back, but without the right food and care, you would waste yourself away.

Better than being trapped forever in a small dorm. You viciously gunned the engine and raced towards that shining beacon of hope. 

The buildings out of town were abandoned like Jienna said, and you prepared to set up your death camp. The concrete slab walls were drab and the floor was too hard and cold to sleep on, but you made do with a blanket you managed to steal from the lobby. 

Days passed and soon, you were starting to wonder if the virus was even real. Your meals consisted of canned beans and whatever scraps you could find in the dumpster nearby. You didn’t dare to light a fire in case it might attract someone’s attention, and your showers were virtually non-existent.

Maybe I shouldn’t have left the dorms. 

Those thoughts of ‘what if’ and ‘should haves’ kept you up at night and haunted your waking moments. 

One day, you thought you heard footsteps echoing down the hallways, but then, you found out it was just a bunch of squatters looking for a place to sleep. They turned their nose up on the squalor and left you alone feeling bemused and a little disappointed that not even the lowest rank of humanity would want to spend a night at a place you consistently slept in. 

But, your newfound freedom was too good to be true.

It had been too quiet and too peaceful. The bubble was waiting to pop and your hopes burst one day when you awoke in cold sweat to hear a man’s voice down the hallways.

“... heard she escaped here…” 

“Are you sure?” 

The fatigue weighing you down shot out of your system and you sat up ramrod straight, rushing to get your goods without making a sound. 

“No news of… gotta be the last one in the vicinity…” 

You hurriedly stuffed your blanket into your backpack, taking care not to breathe too loud in case they might hear. The beam of a flashlight pricked your irises, and having lived for a while in the dark, you weren’t used to such brightness.

Squinting, you stayed close to the walls, slinging your bag onto your shoulders and preparing to depart down a flight of steps straight into the forest fringing these buildings. Your flexibility as a cheerleader back in your old life helped you out to creep on the floors quietly, extending one leg and then another while keeping close to the walls. 

However, you didn’t see where your foot landed, and before you could stop in mid-step, the empty can of beans went clattering to the ground.

For a split second, all you could hear was your breath and the rush of blood in your ears.

The beam of light immediately swung towards your direction, illuminating your left leg and the implicated empty can in question. 

Shit. You had been discovered.

“Wait!” One of the men yelled, but you didn’t stop to listen. Hightailing it out of here, you sprinted to the entrance, about to escape into the night when you felt a bigger body slam into you from the side. 

Screaming out, you barely caught a glimpse of your perpetrator, but he was holding you down with his larger body, pinning you right to the dirty ground.

“Got her!” he yelled back to other men. “It’s a girl! She’s here!” 

You blindly reached your hand out and felt the sharp edge of a rock cut into your palm. Swinging it towards him, you bashed the side of his head, and in the glimpses of light from the shining moon up ahead, you caught sight of his vivid, dark hair. 

The man yelped and stumbled back, staunching the heavy flow of blood oozing from his right cheek.

“Fuck!” he bellowed, and you used his momentum of shock to push him off of you. 

But, he had enough dexterity to clamp a hand around your knee, bringing you back down to the ground. 

“No!” you started to scream and sob. “Please! Let me go!” 

Someone else came to his rescue, holding you down. You felt ropes around your wrists, drawing them behind your back. Your sobs were muffled by a bag thrown over your head, and for good measure, they tied your ankles, too. It took two of them to carry you into a car, and you were laid on someone’s lap, his arms roping around you and pressing you to his chest. 

As the men piled back into the car, you started to sob when you heard the engine ignite. 

“Ssh, it’s okay,” the man who held you crooned. “It’s gonna be fine, Y/N.” 

Through your tears, you recognized that they knew your name. 

A hand touched your knee, rubbing it soothingly. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

That voice. You had heard it before. It brought to mind dark blue eyes and a mop of dark hair. A pair of toned legs tearing through a football field and a charming, lopsided smile.

“I-Isagi?” 

He hummed. “It’s me, Y/N. Barou’s holding you, by the way.” 

In answer, the self-proclaimed king of the field back from when your college days consisted of study horrors and not a world crisis, flooded your mind with stark familiarity when he exhaled out your name. 

“Hey, Y/N.” 

“It’s the boys from the football team,” Isagi informed you, like you were on a road trip with them instead of forcefully being kidnapped against your own will. 

“H-how did you find me?” The bag they stuffed over your head smelled musty, and you struggled to talk through it. “C-can you get this fucking thing off my head?” 

Someone pried the sack off, and you inhaled in deep gusts of air, your wide eyes taking in the darkened interior of this truck and the boys who were holding you hostage. 

Isagi had lost a bit of weight since you last saw him. The last you heard of the Blue Lock team’s co-captain was that he had lost his mother to the virus and the school had started a fund for him to cover her funeral expenses. Turning your eyes towards the man who was holding you, Barou’s jaw was tight, and his eyes were heavy with dark circles.

The man driving was Kunigami, whose hands were white-knuckled fists on the steering wheel. Next to him in the passenger, bleeding out from his cheek, was Itoshi Rin. You noticed how he side-eyed you from the front, and returned his evasive look with a frosty glare. 

Lastly, at the back of this 8-seater was Chigiri, Nagi and Reo—the former two being the most unlikely combination of acquaintances you had ever seen join this ragtag group of football bros. Nagi and Reo were famous for being fused at the hip since they both started their business degree courses together. They rarely fraternised with anyone else outside of their coursemates, much less kidnap some random woman. 

At the reminder of your predicament, you squirmed, accidentally rubbing your ass all over Barou’s crotch. He didn’t react beyond a low hiss of, “Quit it,” those thick and sturdy arms tightening around your trembling body. You tried to ignore how you could feel something hard poking your lower back. 

“Why did you kidnap me?” you demanded off the bat. “How did you find me? What are you going to do with me?” 

Those rapid questions were met with silence. You flitted your gaze to each of them, and through the passing snatches of orange streetlights, you saw every one of their expressions drenched in guilt. 

“We… don’t know.” 

Isagi was the one who spoke first, preparing himself to earn your rage.

“You don’t know?” you mumbled, growing more incensed every minute with how they had wrenched you from your peaceful life in the ruins. “You don’t know where you’re taking me. What you’re planning to do with me. You don’t know the reason why you went through all that trouble to track me down. You don’t—”

“It’s because you have a bounty on your head.”

Rin’s voice cut through your growing tirade, leaving you cold with disbelief.

“I… what?” 

On your right, Isagi nodded, rubbing the back of his neck like he would rather be somewhere else than in this vehicle having such a difficult conversation. 

“After you escaped, the officials posted your bounty and your suspected whereabouts. Um, it’s uh… well, Y/N… you’re the last woman alive from our college.” 

You exhaled, feeling your chest constrict and tears prick your eyes. 

All your lecturers… your friends… your cheerleading gang… 

“Are they all gone?” The boys didn’t comment on your thick voice or the unshed tears. 

Kunigami was the first one to express his remorse. “I’m sorry, Y/N. That’s the truth.” 

Rin decided to rip the bandaid off quicker, leaving you reeling in confusion and despair. “The authorities put up notices for you because your status was unknown. They said that anyone who brought you back—dead or alive—would receive two million yen.”

The reality of your situation settled in like sentiment falling to the bottom of a glass jar. 

You felt cold all over, your heartbeat right in your throat.

“So, you’re either going to k-kill me or turn me in, huh?” 

Your heavy question was met with silence. 

Surprisingly, it was Nagi at the back who piped up in his lazy, drawling tone. “Actually… we have a better plan.” 

Isagi was the first to react. He shot Nagi a murderous look, shaking his head. Kunigami glanced at the white-haired man through the rearview mirror with narrowed eyes, and Rin’s scowl deepened. Chigiri, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, sighed out, “Idiot” under his breath.

The only one who looked supportive of what Nagi had to say was—no surprise there—Reo himself.

“It’s a good plan! She’s still healthy,” he argued on behalf of his best friend. Nagi nodded, humming. 

“The virus should’ve taken her out weeks ago, but she managed to survive all on her own in such dirty conditions… I really think we should give it a shot.”

The air in the car changed; thickening and becoming ripe with tension. Barou’s arms suddenly felt too hot around your body, and you broke out into a sweat.

“It could work,” Isagi started out slowly, rubbing his chin. He had a look on his face you knew all too well—that calculative, goal-hungry stare that would eventually destroy his enemies. 

Rin tilted his head towards the backseat, his turquoise eyes drawing circles on the car’s water-stained ceiling. “Do you think that would be legal for us to do?” 

“We have to keep her hidden.” Chigiri spoke up, demanding everyone's attention. “The authorities can’t know that we have a woman with us or we’d be punished. We have to be very careful with Y/N.”

You were still drawing blanks on their ideas, growing more frustrated every single second you were kept in the dark from their decisions on your fate. “What do you fucking assholes mean? Legal? Keeping me away from the authorities? What do you want with me?” 

Your voice broke on the last question, and without warning, you started to sob. The weeks of roughing it out on your own, trying to escape from society and hide in plain sight were taking its toll on you. You wept bitterly, hiding your face behind your hair and sobbing into your shoulder.

“Shit,” someone muttered in the front. 

“Give her some water.” 

It was Isagi who gently coaxed your face from your shoulder, holding a bottle of clean water. You contemplated spitting a mouthful at him, but ultimately, your thirst won out and you drank deeply. 

He wiped your tears off with the sleeve of his threadbare sweater and you hiccuped into a silence, already accepting your death. 

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Reo murmured from the back. You lifted your swollen, red eyes to find his purple ones full of sincerity. “We actually want to keep you safe. There’s been rumours about human experiments and none of us want you to go through that. We want to keep you safe.”

You should’ve known the group’s appointed spokesperson would be a man used to spouting sweet words to get his way—whether with professors or girls—but a part of you wanted to believe Reo. You were so, so tired of fending for yourself, you wanted someone to help you with the burden of being a woman in these unacceptable times. 

“Yes, Y/N.” Rin’s sudden reassurance struck you dumb with disbelief. “We have our old frat house—nobody comes by there anymore. We’ll keep you safe there and you can rest.” 

It all sounded too good to be true. Here was a band of college footballers being completely sweet with you—wanting to protect, nurture and keep you hidden. But, you were waiting for the other shoe to drop; the catch in this arrangement. 

“There’s more,” you whispered, scenting out their bullshit. “You’re not telling me the real reason.” 

Men were never good liars—that much you could tell. So, when every single footballer glanced at the other, your senses were in red alert, demanding to uncover what was the terrible footnote to this otherwise flawless proposal.

“Well?” you muttered coldly, strengthening your resolve. “What do you want from me? What’s the catch?” 

Reo was quick to turn your question around. “What? There’s no catch—”

“There is.” It was Isagi who spoke, sounding resigned and tired in the dimming darkness. “There is a catch. We shouldn’t lie to her, guys. We all agreed to tell her the truth if we found her and she was willing to listen.” 

You held your breath, waiting for Isagi to drop the bomb. He seemed like he needed a moment to stabilise himself. He drew in a deep breath and unlocked his shoulders, looking you square in the eye. You half-wished he had kept you in the dark; never told you the truth. Because what he said next completely swept you off your feet, landing you onto the ground face-first and gasping in disbelief.

“It’s not about rewards or money—it’s about duty. We need your help to repopulate this city, Y/N… we want you to carry one of our babies.” 

You felt a pair of broad-set shoulders shake under your smaller frame, the man underneath you stretching out his kinks and stiff muscles after a night of good sleep. 

“Hm,” he groaned, brushing a hand down your bare spine. “Good morning, angel.” 

Reo’s husky voice drew you back into consciousness, and you whined, burying your face into his neck to hide yourself from the morning’s glare. He chuckled at your antics, nosing your hair and pressing soft kisses onto your temple. “C’mon, sweetheart. It’s Rin’s turn with you today.” 

Without missing a beat or opening your eyes, you mumbled: “Maybe you should all fuck me at one go so you guys can see who’s strong enough to knock me up.” 

You meant those words as a joke, but when Reo’s shoulders stiffened, you suddenly realised the depth of danger you were flirting with. 

“Don’t say such things you’ll regret, sweetheart,” he meant to tease you, gently easing you off his chest. “Or, the boys won’t stop until you give each one of us a baby.” 

You tried to laugh, to shake off the sudden unease. Today was Wednesday, and Wednesdays meant pancake days in this unconventional household. You got up and slipped on Reo’s shirt, fluffing out your shorter hair. The guys had insisted you cut your locks so that it would be easier to hide them under a baseball cap and pass you off as a man if anyone came looking. 

Sometimes, you did miss your femininity, but in a world where it was literally dying out, you couldn’t take any chances. 

Flashing Reo a smile, you hummed. “Don’t laze around too much like Nagi—I’m making breakfast.” 

In the living room, Bachira was the only one up and awake, his bright golden eyes following your every move as you wished him good morning and prepared your ingredients. Without a sound, he slipped behind you, calloused hands warm on your bare belly. 

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered into your ear, making goosebumps rise on your arms. 

“Morning, Meguru,” you mumbled, trying to ignore how his hands were creeping up to your bare breasts. Living with seven men meant that you were subjected to their advances night and day. It got even worse when you had told them you missed your period last week, but your cycle turned out to be just a few days late. 

That didn’t stop them from feeling you up, grasping your hips or pressing soft kisses to your neck when you least expected it. Like now, with Bachira’s hot breath bathing the sensitive strip of your jaw. 

Meguru hadn’t been part of your kidnapping heist a few weeks ago, but he had shown up when Isagi called—ready to be of service and contribute his portion in repopulating your tiny, dying town. 

Clicking your tongue at the price tag on the egg carton, you flipped the cardboard cover closed, affronted by the steep spike in those numbers. 

“It’s getting bad out there, right?” 

Bachira paused his efforts in running his nose down your neck, taken off guard by your sudden question. “Um. Yeah. Why’d you ask, princess?” 

Because I haven’t seen the outside world in weeks. You swallowed your bitterness, focused on whipping the yolks into a golden perfection. The boys were doing their best to make you feel cosy and safe within these walls; you couldn’t be too ungrateful. They didn’t let you out for fear of someone catching sight of you—that’s why the windows and doors were all covered and barricaded.

They restricted your contact with only seven of them because they didn’t want an anonymous tip-off to result in you being taken away. 

Every Blue Lock player was careful to protect their golden ace. 

“Nothing,” you hummed in the breeziest voice you could muster. “Just curious, s’all.” 

“Hmm.” Bachira’s hands moved up to your naked tits moving freely under Reo’s bigger t-shirt. “You smell like him,” he accused you softly with a nip to your ear. “That stupid rich boy.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you tried not to smirk, but failed. 

“Nah.” Bachira’s fingers trailed to your stiffening nipples, still sore from Reo’s ministrations (he loved biting down on them while you rode him) and eased the soft flesh in between his thumb and forefinger. “I was waiting for my turn—can’t believe I have to share you with those bastards.” You tried not to gasp and push your body back to meet his pelvis halfway, failing miserably to measure a cup full of milk. Some of the liquid sloshed onto your wrist and you heard Meguru snort. 

“I love how sensitive you are, baby.” 

Biting on your lower lip to stifle a whine, you pushed your ass back to brush the front of his pants, finding him already hard and waiting. 

Bachira was one of the more eager boys, and you had to pace yourself and him less he fucked you on this counter and ruined Rin’s day with you. 

“Meguru—”

“I know, I know,” he groaned, sounding both lustful and disappointed. “You’re emo Itoshi’s tonight. Fucking stupid stick game.” Cursing himself for literally getting the shorter end of the stick, you felt his pout imprint on your skin. “But, can’t we have a little bit of fun, baby? Can I eat your pussy out at least?” 

You literally throbbed at his words, and almost gave in to the rushing desire sweeping you off your feet. Almost—until you heard Isagi’s voice knocking the both of you out of this lust-filled fog.

“Hey. What’re you both doing?” 

While you smelled a threat, Bachira smelled an opportunity. His grin was shark-like, cutting through the tension when he didn’t stop playing with your nipples or back down when you hissed out his name. 

“What’s it look like? I’m trying to fuck her.” 

You tensed, waiting for Isagi to be pissed off. He was the one who reinforced this one-night sharing rule, and to see his best friend blatantly disregarding it would set off his rigid ego. 

But, to your surprise, Isagi tilted his head, taking note of your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “I think she… she likes it.” 

Bachira glanced down to find your mouth parted slightly, brows furrowed with a deceptive look of pain when both men knew what it was. Desire. 

Isagi, who could smell a goal or a wrench in the plans from a mile away, started to chuckle. 

“Lift up her shirt. Continue playing with her nipples, Meguru.” 

“Yes, captain,” Bachira sang, and lifted the hem of Reo’s sleep shirt up to expose your puffy, swollen nipples. 

“Shit,” Isagi breathed, and you didn’t miss how he had to adjust himself through his shorts, those dark blue eyes eclipsed with a dark, unnamed emotion you were terrified to uncover. “They look so perfect and pointy.” 

Bachira rolled your sensitive buds between his two fingers, ignoring your soft yelp and flinch when he began to tug on them with a bit more force. “Huh—it really is. Reo must’ve prepped her nicely for us.” 

“For what?” 

The voice of another lover joined the fray. You peeled your watery eyes up to find Reo’s curious expression sweeping between his two friends and your own flushed face. He didn’t seem angry that you were being fondled by Bachira in broad daylight—in fact, Reo looked like he didn’t feel anything. 

He almost looked bored, sweeping those purplish hues to Isagi. “So, are we finally doing it?” 

“Hmm.” 

Doing what? You wanted to ask, but your head was tilted back, mouth falling open only for it to be filled by Bachira’s tongue coaxing yours to come and play with his. His kiss—if it could even be called that—was sloppy and unhurried, its full intention to leave you feeling shame and vulnerability in front of two of your other lovers. 

Showing them how you easily folded and lost yourself to the sensations. 

“Mm—can see her moving her hips,” Isagi’s lowered, husky voice shot a potent mix of desire and shame through your veins. “Check how wet she is Meguru.” 

Abiding his best friend, Bachira dipped two fingers past the waistband of your sleep shorts. You mewled and tossed your head back when he swiped through your folds, teasingly circling your clit. 

As soon as he gave you that wonderful friction, he retrieved it, leaving you high and dry. 

“Meguru,” you whimpered. Bachira ignored you, holding his fingers up to the other two men; his digits glistening with your juices. 

“I don’t think she can wait anymore,” Reo murmured, and this time, you caught a flash of darkness in his otherwise kind eyes. “Isagi—”

“I’ll go first.” 

Meguru nudged you firmly to face the approaching, dark-haired man. You couldn’t keep your eyes off Isagi’s intense, blue eyes that were pinning you right to the spot like you were about to be burned on a stake. The fire came next when he reached out to caress your cheek, trailing his hand down your neck and grabbing your throat. 

“Tease her clit again,” he ordered, and Bachira playfully said, 

“Yes, captain.” 

Fuck. You were growing lightheaded from the combination of Isagi choking you and Bachira running slow circles on your throbbing clit. It was even filthier when you remembered Reo was watching, most likely getting off to your desperate pinched expressions. 

“Meguru… Yoichi…”

Calling them by their first name seemed to spur on those two men. Meguru eased one finger past your tight ring of muscle, melting through your spongy walls and hooking the tip of this thick index right against your g-spot. He nudged it forward in a fluid motion, like how he would effortlessly send forward a ball across the field, forcing a yelp past your kiss-swollen lips. 

Your vision was purely dominated by Isagi’s increasingly unhinged expression; the sweat bulleting down his forehead, his mouth parted in a silent snarl, those dark, beautiful eyes coaxing you to jump down a well just to feel his touch… 

“Y-Yoichi.” 

As if he understood your deeper need, Isagi nodded feverishly at Bachira. “Remove her shorts… hold her open while I eat her out.” 

Dutifully, Meguru followed his friend's instructions. You watched with wide, unblinking eyes as Yoichi got to his knees, his mouth so close to where you needed him the most.

Bachira slung your shorts down your ankles, revealing the sweet shape of your mound and the even sweeter treasure hidden in between your folds. Like a man hellbent on a mission, Yoichi gently pried your clit from under her hood, revealing the throbbing bud waiting to be licked, sucked or loved on. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth was on you. 

Every man in this house ate you out differently. Reo was more careful and controlled. Nagi was languid and tended to overstimulate you. Barou loved to have your legs on his shoulders as he dove in between your thighs. 

But, Isagi was different; he ate you out with the determination of a man who had to prove he was the best in every way. 

The feeling of his tongue swiping through your folds, those perfect pink lips sealing around your clit and how he sounded like he was making out with your pussy made you clench down on thin air. 

“Yoichi…” you breathed. 

Bachira went to work on stimulating you, too, tugging your shirt above your head and pinching your nipples again. 

Both boys were so intent on driving you to the edge, that they didn’t realise the group of spectators they were attracting. 

From the corner of your watery eyes, you noticed Rin standing, arms crossed over his broad shoulders and frosty glare—tainted with jealousy—directed towards the man in between your thighs. Kunigami had just gotten out of the shower, so his hair was still damp while Barou had returned from a workout, his muscles swollen and shiny with sweat. Chigiri and Nagi were the only ones probably still asleep, though you had little doubt your stream of moans would wake them up out of curiosity. 

Meguru flicked the tip of his nails on your nipples, the sharp sting sending bites of pleasure right to your core. 

“Megu—” you were interrupted again by another sloppy kiss. 

“Tch. You’re all such fucking horndogs.” Rin’s grumble was white noise behind the blood rushing in your ears. 

“... you’re not complaining…” 

“Shut up…” 

A sharp nip to your flesh inner thigh wrenched you back to the present, and you gasped, making eye contact with Isagi and his raised brow. 

“You’re getting bored, Princess?” 

Without missing a beat, you shook your head. “N-no, ‘Ichi. Mm’sorry.” 

He clicked his tongue, obviously not buying your lie. “Here you are getting your pussy eaten out by me and you’re focusing on the other boys. Just admit that you’re a fucking cockwhore, Y/N.” 

You gaped at his words, and your rage was lost when Bachira dragged you back to the counter, arranging you face down and ass up. 

“M-Meguru—!” 

“Come on, who wants to fuck her first,” he boldly exclaimed, shaking you to the core. “She’s ready for a baby.” 

You burned from the inside out at how cheaply he was treating you; that sensation amplified by the sharpest slap of humiliation across your cheeks, Bachira’s handprint glowing warmly on your skin. He spanked you again, matching his mark on your right cheek to your left one, letting you cry out and clench down on thin air.  

“Me.” A deep, resonate voice which you loved having at your ear while he fucked you on every Monday night. After all—a King always went first.

As one of the bigger guys, Barou’s physique gave him the advantage over the others to call dibs on you first, his undeniably good genetics and strong bone structure a contender for healthy babies. 

You felt Bachira’s warmth melt from your side to be replaced by the feel of Shoei’s toned thighs pressed against your rear. 

He soothed the spanks left on your skin with one large, coarse palm, and hummed deeply. 

“You ready, pretty?” 

Nodding, you turned your head to the side, unable to believe that you were in such a vulnerable position to be fucked by the entire football team. 

You weren’t going to lie—you had imagined yourself in this position before. But, it was always in your wildest fantasies; to be defiled by the football team in your tiny uniform behind the bleachers. If you were being honest, every girl on campus had the same daydream, but you were closer to the unattainable. The entire idea was such a cliche, and yet, here you were, in a room full of hungry, testosterone-fuelled men who eagerly waited to have their turn with you—the pretty cheerleader from their bygone days before the world tried to kill humanity off. 

Barou wasted no time in sinking his thick cock into you, groaning as your body took him inch by inch. He rubbed your hips, leaning forward to gently thumb your nipple. “There you go, baby. Taking me so well.” 

His words were a stark contrast from his actions. Shoei gave a low, guttural groan when he bottomed out, a dirty thrill shooting down your spine at the feel of his entire cock moulding with your walls as seven other men gaze lustfully at you. 

Through the shine of an old kettle on the counter top, you noticed Isagi palming himself through his shorts. Bachira was blatantly jacking himself off, one hand inside his sleep shorts. Kunigami was sitting on the sofa, staring at you slack-jawed and completely hard under his towel. Reo was the more subtle one, furtively glancing around and looking slightly uncomfortable, but still unable to tear his eyes from you. 

Chigiri and Nagi had woken up, and Rin was standing a little ways by the door, distancing himself from the activities taking place.

For a split second, you felt bad for him—Rin was supposed to have you today, but he had to wait for his turn as the other guys fucked you; figuratively and literally blue-balled by his own teammates. It would’ve made you mad on his behalf if you weren’t—

“Ow!” 

A sharp tug on your roots snapped your head back, and your cry bounced off the walls. Barou’s lips were on your neck, his hot breath fanning across your neck. 

“Did I tell you you could be distracted? Pay attention to when your King fucks you.”

From the back, you heard Bachira snicker, but every thought flew out of your head when Barou set a pace which had your toes curling in your house slippers. He clamped one hand around the delicate roots of your hair, while the other guided your hips to meet his halfway.

The sound of balls hitting flesh filled the air, along with your animalistic groans and Barou’s deep ones. You heard a few more muffled groans, and someone cursing, but your thoughts were doused in wet cotton, growing heavier and fuzzier. 

You could barely keep your eyes open, only cognizant of Barou’s cock shaping your walls and the impending ball of heat waiting to unravel right under your navel. Meeting his thrusts cleanly, soft mewls fell from your plush lips like dew, mingling with a bit of drool puddling onto the counter right under your mouth. 

Barou was fucking you stupid and the other men knew it. He couldn’t stop the feral grin splitting his face in half when your hips bucked, a little slutty tick which told every man you were about to cum. 

Without warning, you felt wet warmth fill you to the brim—your first load of the day taken like a champ.

Shoei hadn’t let you cum, and you reeled back from the disappointment with barely any grace; your soft sob was replaced by a moan when another man lined up his cock to your stuffed entrance. 

You smelled his fresh pine cologne before you saw him, and sensed Rin’s impatience the second he gripped your jaw and wrenched your face back for a deep, frenzied kiss. 

“Fucking whore,” he whispered into the heat of your mouth. “Letting the other boys feel you up when it’s my turn with you today. Where’s your shame?” 

Your answer melted as one with a dulcet moan when Rin slid two fingers in between your swollen folds, testing the waters of your arousal. He barely cared when his digits were coated with a combination of Barou’s cum and your juices; he just stuck those soiled, pale and nimble fingers which could’ve rivalled a skilled pianist down your throat. You gagged on them, eyes going blurry and all teary from the flavouring of sin heavy on your tongue. 

“Rin,” you hiccuped, and he hummed. 

“Take me deeper, baby.” 

His command brought a throbbing wave of desperation arresting you from head to toe. You tried to bring his fingers further down your gullet, but gagged when he was almost knuckle-deep. 

“Mhpmh!” Your syrupy moan made every man groan, the sheer desperation in how you attempted to fully swallow Rin’s fingers a commendable feat considering he had absurdly thick fingers to match his height. 

“Good girl,” Rin praised you in a husky voice when he felt your throat bob around his digits. “You’re really such the perfect fuckdoll, huh? Always so ready for us.” 

“Mhmm…” your eyes rolled back into your head, your entire body tensing when you felt his cock slowly breach past your tight ring of muscle. 

“Fucking take this dick, baby, I know you can,” the youngest striker urged, his words beyond filthy compared to the other men. Rin was one of the only few people in this house who could talk you through the immense pleasure, and you loved him all the more for it. 

His obscene mouth would never fail to leave you reeling from the difference in his demeanour; sour and quiet when he wasn’t fucking you, to brash and downright filthy when he was egging you towards an orgasm. 

You loved Rin and his duality; lived to watch it come to life.

You wanted to swallow him down and eat him up whole to satiate the deep well of lust inside of you no matter the price. 

“Rin…” you gurgled past his fingers. “Mhmmmore.” 

“More?” he interpreted your gurgles with the ghost of a chuckle. You quite liked it when Rin laughed even if it was a soft exhale; it made you feel lighter to hear his happiness. He hummed and plunged his fingers back down your throat, playing with the soft palate of your tongue, while his cock inched deeper and deeper into your sacred heat.

The second he bottomed out, his forehead thumped onto your shoulder, a long drawn out groan of relief radiating warmth right into your throbbing heart. Rin’s reactions were adorable as they were pussy stirring, his duality further exacerbated by those spit-slicked fingers retracting from your mouth and moving down to your puffy clit.

He gently rubbed circles into them, catching you whenever you bucked into his embrace. His lips were on your neck, his hot breath expelling heated groans onto the sensitive skin. Every single shaky circle on your sensitive nub was pulling you closer and closer into a white hole of pleasure.

Your moans were reaching fever pitch, and the entire house was doused with the arousal of seven men who couldn’t wait to fuck you.

The boys whispered something over your stream of mewls and your feet were off the ground, your limp body in Rin’s arms. Without a second to spare, he brought you to the main bedroom where the largest bed could fit at least three men. 

There, he laid you down, your head dangling off the edge so your mouth was hanging wide open for the next man to defile. 

Rin eased himself in between your spread thighs, placing a kiss onto your sternum almost reverently and leaving more pressees on your jaw and cheeks. You felt someone else rustle up towards the other side of the bed, and your eyes met Kunigami’s darkened ones. His towel was shed off, a heap on the floor, and his long, girthy cock throbbed in anticipation over your face. 

“Open up for me, pretty girl,” Rensuke murmured, grazing your cheek and then hooking a thumb on your bottom lip to spread you wider. You whined, overstimulated on both ends when you felt both men sink into you at the same time. Rin bottomed out the second Rensuke hit the back of your throat, making you jerk and gag. 

The both of them were big—far too big for your smaller body. It was a struggle to take them both and you felt your body reacting to the impossible feat.

“Ssh, ssh,” Rin whispered into your hair. “Relax, baby. You can take us, I know you can.”

With watery eyes, all you could do was mewl, hips bucking pathetically. Rin’s long girth was directly hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and Rensuke was splitting your throat in half. You felt like you could drown in their musk and the thick scent of sex in the air. 

Something bitter hit the back of your throat, and you gagged, about to spit Rensuke out when he clamped one hand on your throat, telling you to keep him there if you wanted to know what was good for you. 

“Hold me, sweetheart. Hold it,” the large football player murmured. You were sure your entire system was going haywire—your pussy and mind in war to come out at the top of your frazzled emotions. 

One of your hands was buried in Rin’s hair, and another was perched on Kunigami’s thigh, trying to ease him down your battered throat. 

Without warning, the other man withdrew his thick length from your mouth, splatters of drool dripping down your chin and neck; defiling you even more. 

“Fucking hurry it up, Rin,” Kunigami growled, throwing the other striker a murderous look which juxtaposed his usually kind expression jarringly. “I need to cum in her.” 

Rin grunted, returning the other striker’s glare with a hostile one of his own. “Shut the fuck up—let me have this with her.” Kunigami stroked himself, trying to keep himself hard as Rin started to jackhammer into your willing cunt.

Your screams of pleasure echoed around the room, contrasting with the other men’s deep growls and groans. It sounded like a smorgasbord of erotic sounds, complemented by the slap of Rin’s balls on your ass. 

The youngest man was close on the verge of his orgasm, his face pinched and drawn. You thought he would’ve taken this chance to cum and ignore your pleasure, like Barou did, but you were sorely wrong when it came to Rin. He pressed a thumb to your swollen clit, rubbing it soft and sweet, increasing the pressure when you started to buck and whine into his embrace. 

You smelled the sting of his sweat, felt it drip into your open mouth, tainting it with the taste of Kunigami’s precum and his own excitement. 

“I’m close,” you sobbed out, arms like vines around his shoulders, nails stabbing into his back. “G’na cum, Rin-Rin—fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He shook his head, a feral look of pure determined arousal lighting those beautiful features. “Cum for me, baby. Make a mess—show the other guys how much you love my cock.” 

Your back arched, and your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Your thighs tensed around his waist, almost clamping the air out of his lungs from how hard you were clenching around him. The minute ticks, the red lines you left down his back, and your eyes rolling back into your skull arrived at a blinding crescendo.

“Oh! Ugh, Rin—!” 

Your first orgasm hit you like a brick wall, steamrolling every thought from your blank mind. Rin’s face fell into the crook of your neck, and his stuttering hips brought forth a fountain of warmth flowing freely into your womb. 

You were coasting, high on hormones and pleasure, when he disappeared from your embrace, only to be replaced by another body. Kunigami’s lips on your skin were like warm fluttering butterfly wings, slowly bringing you back to the ground.

“I’m here next, okay, baby?” His tender tone didn’t prepare you for how his cock stretched you out. 

“Too big,” you muttered, losing every shred of your composure and shame to hiccup those dirty words. “You’re t-too big.”

“Yeah?” He kissed your tears away. “Aren’t you glad I can stretch you out? Give your sweet body some practice when you have to push out our babies?” 

His words ignited a flame right in your lower belly—making you cry out when Rensuke started to slip inside your already overflowing hole. Gushes of white streaked your thighs, the other men’s releases staining the bed underneath you. 

As you got used to his slightly wider girth, you didn’t expect Kunigami to roll you on your hands and knees. His cock slid back into your waiting heat, the angle making him feel bigger, and stretching you out even more. 

But, it also placed you face to face with the other guys who were eyeing you hungrily—none more so than Reo. 

One thick hand wound the hair around the nape of your neck to snap your head up, keeping you firmly in place to watch the lust dancing in their eyes.

“You really should see how fucking sexy you look, baby,” Chigiri hummed, those bright eyes latched onto the spot where you and Kunigami were connected. “We could eat you whole—you fucking little slut.”

“So pretty,” Reo cooed, and Nagi nodded in agreement. 

The lilac-haired man got bold enough to stride up to you, perching himself on the edge of the bed where your swinging tits were mesmerising him. 

“Raise her up a little bit, Ren.” 

Kunigami obeyed Reo’s orders, settling on his haunches and bringing you up with one arm securely snug around your neck. Your tinier hands fluttered to the thick trunk of his forearm as if trying to pry him off, the breath in your lungs knocked out by Rensuke’s headlock. 

But, whatever bit of oxygen you managed to inhale from Kunigami’s loosening hold was taken away as Reo leaned forward to kiss and suck your tits. He massaged the neglected one with one hand, his lips busy toying with your right nipple. You watched with bated breath as his tongue caressed the hardening flesh, the firm suction of his lips on the vulnerable flesh sending pangs of pleasure straight to your core.

You cried out, throwing your head back to bump Rensuke’s chin. He grunted, and shifted his arm a bit so he could grasp your neck instead, holding you steady as his cock wrecked you and Reo’s mouth on your tits continued driving you insane.

“She’s drooling,” Nagi drawled, catching their attention. 

Every eye zeroed in on your blissed-out face, your mouth parting and a little bit of spit dripping past your chin. Kunigami chuckled, breathless and almost feral when he leaned forward to sloppily make out with you. 

The sound of wet lips smacking on each other and a big cock stirring you closer to another orgasm made every man in the room throb—even those who had already come. Every footballer was thinking of the numerous ways he could bend you over and fuck you hard until you squirted all over them; each of their mind’s eye tainted with your sweet moans and even sweeter release.

You gave a short scream, your orgasm catching everyone off guard when you almost folded forward if it wasn’t for Reo catching you. Your body was shuddering like someone had tasered you—a pure scream of pleasure rebounding across the thin walls.

Reo held you as you sobbed, your release triggering Kunigami’s own orgasm. More warmth filled you up and you had lost track of how many men had already came in you; your brain a complete mush with no solid thoughts in it.

Like clockwork, another cock filled you—this time it was Reo’s again—and your mouth was stuffed with someone else's length. You were dragged into a cowgirl position by Reo who let Nagi mount you from the back, both of their lengths taking turns pistoning into your stretched out heat.

“Disgusting,” someone muttered in disdain over the sounds of two men concurrently fucking one woman. Neither of you cared, and you were pulled into a sloppy makeout session with Nagi as Reo continued sucking and licking your already reddened nipples.

Every part of your orifice was swollen, but you still took Chigiri without complaint when it was his turn. You were already like jelly at this point, your entire body sagging on the bed and going numb from the neverending pleasure.

Thankfully, he was quicker, cumming into you within minutes, and kissing you on the forehead afterwards. Your hole was stuffed to the brim with white hot cum, and you thought you couldn’t take anymore until you felt Bachira sliding behind you, hitching your thighs up.

“Hey, Princess,” the golden-eyed menace cooed. “Did you think we would forget about you?” 

You felt the bed dip, and Isagi’s face swam in your vision. He came closer to give you a kiss, and his lips felt like a soothing balm on a hot day. 

“Yoichi,” you whispered, eyes heavy and body already close to shutting down from exhaustion. “M’so tired.”

“I know, pretty girl, I know,” the dark-haired man whispered. “But, Meguru and I haven’t had our turn with you yet. It would be unfair if we didn't, right?” He gently stroked your cheek, voice saturated with fake sympathy. “You wouldn’t want us to not fuck you after you’ve already taken everyone’s cock, right? You’re not that cruel to deny us, are you, baby?”

“Fucking twisted weirdo,” you heard another person quip. But, you were too far gone to stop the collision of his lips on yours, that skilled mouth drinking away all of your complaints.

As he distracted you, Bachira slipped his thick and veiny cock right into your waiting cunt, his groan low and erotic against your shoulder. 

“How’re you still so wet and tight after so many rounds?” He nipped your shoulder in frustration, setting a pace that rutted your body back and forth on the soft sheets. “You’re a fucking nympho, baby—so needy for our cocks.”

“Shut up,” you groaned in between Yoichi’s hot mouth pressing onto yours. You tried to squirm away to get back some of your lost breath, but Isagi refused to let you part from his lips. He chased after you, mouth sealing over yours again and again as you tried to twist your head this way and that. 

Strings of spittle clung to both of your chins, and that sick part inside of you which wanted more pushed the voice of common sense in your head out of the way—making you fall head over heels for Yoichi’s mouth on yours. You kissed him back with as much hunger and zeal as your tired body could muster, pushing your boundaries right to the very edge. 

Isagi’s ego fed heartily on your submission, greedily taking everything you gave him.

By the end of this sloppy makeout session, your lips were tingling, and Bachira had already come inside of you—getting off to the sight of his best friend and the girl they were sharing stuck in an intimate lip lockdown.

The last man to take you was drawing it out. He took your face in his hands, nudging you free from Bachira’s grasp and rolling you into his arms.

“Out,” Isagi commanded, in a tone that broke no argument. “Leave me and Y/N alone.”

The rest of the guys began to grumble, but one sharp glare from the terrifying striker was enough to quiet everyone down. Indisputably, Yoichi ran the show, and his ego was bigger than any of theirs combined—the lesser knew when to give way to someone who could devour them without regrets.

Everyone turned to leave, and the last one was Rin who hovered by the doorway, unwilling to abandon you to Yoichi’s devices. The other dark-haired man shot his nemesis a frigid stare that could’ve frozen over Hell’s fires.

“Out, Itoshi.” 

The younger man countered his superior’s glare with a mutinous one of his own. 

“Who’s to say you won’t hurt her?” Rin’s nostrils flared, flickering his gaze to your closed eyes and limp body. “We can’t trust you with her.”

Isagi snorted. “If you want to watch, be my guest. I’ll fuck her so good she’ll forget about you assholes.”

The competition was on, and you were the final prize for these men to win. But, it wasn’t just your body they wanted—each of them fought to secure your womb so it would grow their fruits and give them the family they dreamed of. 

You were their greatest treasure, and they would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you were safe—even watching the other men to make sure none of them would hurt you. 

Isagi was a packaged dynamite waiting to blow; he was too unpredictable and Rin would hate himself if he pushed you too far or injured you in any shape or form. He planted himself against the wall, arms folded across his chest while those searing teal eyes watched you gasp and preen for Isagi’s attention. 

The dark-haired man was playing with your clit, using the dirtiest tactic to rile you up so you would explode in pleasure for him. His mouth was toying with your swollen nipples, and Rin winced when he bit on the tender nub, earning your shriek. It didn’t take a genius to see you were hanging on the tether of your sanity, and with your body already keyed up to the hundreds, your next orgasm was sure to leave you delirious.

Your small hands wound up in his hair, holding him close despite the excruciating pleasure. If Yoichi was the current wrecking you apart, he was also the life buoy you clung on to as your body coasted on the unending pleasure.

“I don’t even need to make you wet, baby,” he breathed right into the shell of your ear, gripping your hips hard. “You’re already so stretched out for me.”

Your breathing caught, a hitched moan echoing around the room when he sank deep into your heat with little to no prep. Isagi kissed you on your lax mouth, and tasted your tears right on his tongue.

“You okay, baby?” He forced your face to his, and your eyes fluttered open. All you could give was a tired nod, and he grinned down at you. “Okay. Are you ready?” 

You nodded again, and that was when another person caught your attention. “Rin?” 

“M’here,” the other dark-haired striker murmured, his eyes softening with fondness when you smiled at him. “I’ll make sure you get your rest afterwards.”

You hummed, and the idea of knocking off to sleep sounded so good, your eyes had already slipped close. 

“Hey—focus on me, sweetheart.”

Isagi’s hand around your neck squeezed down, cutting off your air supply. You gasped and sputtered, eyes rolling wide open. His grin was feral, touched with a hint of insanity. “Good girl. Now, watch me fuck you, sweetheart.”

He pushed your back onto the pillows, and your eyes instantly went to where you both were connected. Isagi’s pretty cock was smeared with your juices and the other men’s cum, the sight alone so filthy it made your cheeks flush.

“‘Ichi,” you hiccuped, going dumb on every stroke of his heavy cock against your velvet walls. “I-I’m close.” 

Your pussy fluttered around his length, the overstimulation touching you like a livewire. He rolled his hips into yours, the sloppy sounds of your pussy getting him higher than any risky goal. There was a reason he went last, and it was because he wanted to savour the sounds you were making; the way your pretty eyes went all glassy and hazy just for him. 

Isagi loved you so fucking much, he swore he couldn’t breathe when you started to chant his name.

“‘Ichi, ‘Ichi,” you gasped out, twisting in his grip, your back arching. “K-Kiss me, ‘Ichi.” 

He obliged you, ignoring the jealous presence waiting right in the wings, waiting for him to fuck up. But, Isagi was gentle with you. He tenderly planted hot, open-mouthed kisses onto your parted lips, drinking in your sweet whines and mewls of desperation. Isagi himself wasn’t in control of his body; that was the effect you had on him.

You drove him crazy with your supple love and beautiful smiles. Everytime you looked at him, it felt like he had been shot right in the chest. Yoichi was so, so crazy for you, and luckily for him, your feelings were the same.

He let Rin get an eyeful of you licking his lower lip, your treacherous side coming to light when you blatantly showed off your preference for the unassuming striker. The other man looked like he was swallowing shards of concrete, his expression twisted in disgust. But, Isagi had already given him an out and Rin didn’t want to take it—he was stuck with the consequences of his actions. 

“Yoichi,” you sighed out his name, all stickily sweet in your high-pitched moan. “I love you, ‘Ichi.” 

“Yeah?” Isagi grunted, your little confession going straight to his burgeoning ego. “Say it louder, baby. Tell the whole world what you feel for me.”

“I love you,” your gasp of pleasure when he changed the angle of his driving hips fed the monster inside of him. “I love you!” 

“Fuck,” Isagi bit down on your neck, leaving behind a mark for the other men to see. Rin’s own marks were on your shoulders and breasts, but Isagi had gone one step further to make his impression on the tender skin between your neck and jaw—right above your pulse point. It was so every beat of your heart echoed with his imprint and every time any of the boys looked at you, they were reminded of who you loved the most.

 “‘Ichi,” you gasped out, and your stuttering hips told Isagi you were already close. Your thighs tensed around him, and he fueled your unravelling further by rubbing on your clit with his rough thumb, the action making you jerk and gasp like you had been electrocuted.

“Yoichi… ‘Ichi… Yoichi!” you cried out his name as your body gave one final push—your release slamming into you with the force of a thousand brick walls, dragging you straight into darkness.

You thought you might’ve died in this instance. Your entire body felt too heavy, and you could physically hear every beat of your heart.

Someone was holding you tightly to his chest, his lips peppering gentle kisses on your face. You pried your eyes open after what felt like two hours trying to recollect your bearings, only to find a pair of teal eyes gazing down at you in worry.

“Baby?” Rin’s voice was soft and unintrusive. He let you get used to the bright light of a warm afternoon—watching you stretch yourself and ease your muscles.

“What time is it?” you asked in a thick voice. Staring down your body, someone had cleaned you up and dressed you in Kunigami’s oversize t-shirt and Rin’s boxers. You felt refreshed and well-taken care of, your entire heart swelling eight times its size to fit your love for every man in there.

Rin leaned forward and you caught his face with your shaky palms, caressing those defined cheekbones. 

“You slept for almost an hour. Bachira thought you had died.” 

You stifled a giggle, tracing your thumbs over the shape of his mouth. Rin let you pull him in for a kiss, and like the worrywart he was, he didn’t deepen it, not wanting to give into the insatiable lust humming in his veins.

If you thought one horny, touch-starved man was a handful, you hadn’t expected the other seven to come through the door and pile up on the bed, each of them clamouring to cuddle you.

You giggled when Nagi tripped over Reo to snuggle up on your left side, only to be stopped by Bachira who literally yanked the taller man out of the way to steal his place. In the end, you took turns cuddling with each man, their deep sigh of relief that things had turned out great and not as weird as they thought, fed right into your relaxed soul. 

As sunlight streamed in through the blinds, the outside world may be in an upheaval, but within these four walls, you were as safe as you could be in your favourite football team’s arms.

©️lalunanymph, 2023

[vamptastic]

ngl the only part of the barbie movie i enjoyed was weird barbie. if they made a whole movie about kate mckinnon playing the visual representation of my childhood feelings on femininity i probably would have enjoyed it. i always loved my fucked up buzzcut leg missing barbies the most.

[fatphobiabusters]

That person the other day who said they love seeing photos of thin people holding up 3XL jeans to show all of the "hard work" they put into living "the life they want," there's so much I could say about that.

I could explain that any fat person you see has almost certainly put in that same amount of "hard work" to become thin and then watched as their body refused to stay that way.

I could explain basic, unbiased weight science proving that weight loss is only temporary for the 4 millionth time.

I could explain that fat people are human beings who deserve to be treated with dignity, respect, and humanity, again for the 4 millionth time.

I could explain and explain and explain, but I'm tired of explaining to people who don't listen and pull their views out of their ass. So instead, I think we should applaud photos of fat people holding up the jeans they temporarily wore as a thin person.

Let's celebrate the fat people who once were a size small. Let fat people hold up their old tiny jeans in celebration of:

Beating an eating disorder

No longer experiencing food insecurity

Recovering from an illness that had caused weight loss

Accepting their fat body instead of abusing themself to become thin again

Leaving an abusive family/living situation where they were starved and/or forced to conform to prevent abuse

Having the genes of ancestors who survived famines

Knowing that there is not a single scientifically-proven method of weight loss

No longer wasting time fighting their body's weight gain from health conditions that cause weight gain, like PCOS

Accepting their body that changed due to pregnancy

Accepting their body that changed due to puberty

Accepting their body that changed due to transitioning

Allowing themself to take the medicine they need to treat mental or physical illness no matter the weight gain side effects

Not listening to harassment from bullies, friends, family, or anyone else who demanded they be thin to deserve peace from mistreatment

Literally just getting older and having a body that has changed with time

Loving themself despite the entire world believing that fat people do not deserve love

Existing, because fat people do not need to justify their body and existence to anyone

And so much more

-Mod Worthy

[raeathnos]

.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

the order of which this series will be written has not yet been decided. this series is currently on hold. Trust me I love this series and I plan to come back to it and finish. But this is a very very HEAVY series to write if do it properly and I don’t half ase any of my writing on my blog. That being said, currently I don’t think I am not mentally in the current headspace to do give it justice. Give me some time, but I promise I will finish it. 💜

Is today a dark day? - Cole Caufield (depression)

For the first time since you started dating Cole, your depression seems to be coming back to kick you in the ass. Scared of how Cole will react, you do the only logical thing and pull away.

Quinn Hughes (ADHD)

Can you tell me what hurts? - John Marino (PCOS)

Always struggling with having a abnormal menstrual cycle, and doctors not seeming to care. It sort of became the norm for you to just not really know what's going on with your body. After meeting John, you were worried if he would get scared with how sick you really got so often and run. Or would he be the one to stick around and try to help you figure out what's wrong?

Jack Hughes (OCD) (requested)

What are you trying to say? - Trevor Zegras (Dyslexia)

In the talking stage with Trevor Zegras you're not sure how his joking personality will respond to your struggles that you have with being an adult with dyslexia, especially since it doesn't affect you how media expects it to.

Why do you think that? - Nico Hischier (Body Dysmorphia)

Y/N was happy with Nico, he made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. But what happens when an old friend of Y/N visits and they start looking back on old pictures. Or how does Nico handle Y/N pushing away when her body dysmorphia seems to finally catch up to her after so long of it being pushed to the back of her mind.

Brock Boeser (Anxiety)

Matthew Tkachuk (PTSD)

Luke Hughes (Binge Eating) (requested)

Auston Matthews (Anemia) (requested)

Borderline Personality Disorder (player undecided) (requested)

I am open to the idea of adding players and different disorders or health issues to this list if you have any ideas please send in an ask.

[thatbitchery]

On today's episode of me doing everything BUT the thing I am actually supposed to be doing (I have work ppl if you see me on this app again remind me I have work) let me de-influence you a little because your questions are just- uhm. You're living in an illusion

Highly effective does not mean always busy, not even to men. It means effective. You are not supposed to always be busy what kind of life is that?? I know what you mean when you say you're wasting time and the answer is still the same but I think you have this weird idea that highly effective and highly successful people are always being productive? Uhm no thats not a thing. That is not even a life you want. Your favorite idol (someone you look up to, not singer) is not working 24/7. Its actually mostly finding a way to do the most work with the least effort. Your problem isn't that you are not busy it's that you are not effective, and I'm willing to bet it's a mix of intense loneliness and not really having a tangible working plan. You know what you want, you have a vague idea how to get there but not a tangible plan. The goal isn't to never go on tiktok again or watch your favorite anime or movie or not lazy around and suck the joy out of life to become a machine thats why they have robots. The goal is effectiveness.

Money is not made in investments it's made in taking risks. I don't want you to invest so you can make money (you could, if you invest a huge sum) I want you to invest so you can preserve your wealth as it grows. Bond with a 13% interest is better than your bank, isn't it? But 15% of 5000 is 750 you're not making any incredible wealth there are you? 15% of 500000 is 75k though and thats why I said investments only make wealth when you have a large sum- and even then in comparison to 500k 75 isn't that much is it. You can not invest your way into wealth but you can preserve your wealth that way. Investment is for beating inflation. If inflation is 7% and you have a 15% interest you have preserved the value of your money and added 8% value. You can not save your way into wealth either, you have to take risks with it. You can earn your way in if you work high paying and not have to pay off debt and bills yes but the main way people make wealth is by taking risks. Investing is for preserving value mostly. Seriously, get a finance bro.

There is not a single month as a person with an XX chromosome thingy that you will be consistent day 1 to day 30 that's a men thing. You will have a week you think you can take over the world, one week you will murder someone for breathing the same air as you and would rather die than leave your bed, one week you are full of ideas and- ma. Your body works in a cycle YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE PRODUCTIVE ALL MONTH you will superhead yourself into some type of PCOS be fr. It is not weird that you are not as motivated as the month moves it's nature. Make weekly goals not monthly goals. It is not a bad thing when you, a woman, are in a body that works like the body of a woman. Why am I not always motivated- because you are a woman and your vitamin balance is weird probably.

What you don't know you either fear or worship. It's really that simple. This sounds- heh- but you only want it because you have never had it.

Social climbing is only mostly beneficial when you have some level of wealth. Having wealthy friends is expensive trust me. And honestly if you are just starting out social climbing is a bad idea. Really really bad idea. Power imbalances are breeding grounds for abuse and one of these days you'll understand human beings are apex predators and your life will get so so so simple. One level above. Just one. {and frankly I highly advice social climbing for my ladies but if you are not an escort or sugar baby don't. don't. Just, it's not what you are hoping it is}

There is no formula to making friends you just have to go out there and do it. The social formula is called learning to read the room and having a very strong self concept, and both are learned in practise. There are no 'tips' talk to people.

It is 100% normal to not have things figured out pre 25. After 25 yes its a problem but you are 19. Just do whatever brings you money, be smart with that money, throw yourself into experiences and learn as much as you can. It is not weird that at 22 you don't know what you want to do with your life it's normal. It makes things harder yes but you have like 75 more years of being alive whats the rush? Make money, give your frontal lobe time. You are supposed to be confused about your future it's just a thing that happens relax.

There aren't as many millionaires as you think there are. Have you seen the wealth distribution chart? You seem behind and you feel like you are left behind because you are on the pseudo finance side of Tiktok with everyone and their mom being a millionaire and it seems like it's everyone? It's not. Most people live with their parents to 30 (which is why your mom bought a three bedroom btw. You fuss and fight but she wants you there) and buy homes in their 40s . You are not left behind you're normal you just consume content that targets that part of you that naively said she'd be a CEO by 22.

You just need to grow up tbh. This is how the world works.

[blingblong55]

Funny feeling - König

Not a request but my own need for this:

141&Konig find out (same time as you do) that you have PCOS. You of course are sad because of the fertility issues and all the problems this condition brings, but not to worry, your partner is here to help and uplift you.  ---- F!Reader, reader with pcos, fluff, angst, comfort, established!realtionship, tw: self worth issues ----

A/N: I needed comfort and well I figured you might too so.. here's this

141 part here

When you step inside, the shadow of worry descends upon your home. Your spirit dimmed, and ever since the truth emerged and you withered, your mind came crashing down like a bird in flight. This diagnosis shook not just you but of course him. You now drown in a sea of despair and self-blame. It's a heavy burden to bear, one that threatens tears to roll down and make you walk away from König. You blame yourself as flawed, broken, unworthy of the love he gives you and you so cherish.

But König, ever the steadfast husband, refuses to lose you this way. He mustn't let you slip away. Not ever, Schatz.

One day, as he finally watches you open up, he sits down and listens. He clings to every word you say. You pour your heart out and all of your fears and insecurities. "What if you leave? What if this is the beginning of the end of us? I don't want to lose you Bär," your voice shaky. With gentle understanding, he wiped away your tears, promising to stand by your side through every trial and triumph. "Oh, meine Schatz," he says as he holds you close.

Now, he sought to educate himself about the condition, attend appointments with you, read up on diets that can help you and is now determined to be your unwavering support.

It's not just words where he shows you his undying love. No, that is basic and for the woman that owns his heart, actions must be shown to prove that he means it. He cooks your favourite meals, filling the shared home with the aroma of comfort and care.

He takes your hands one day and leads you through the meadows, reminding you of the beauty that exists in the world outside the window. And in the quiet moments, he simply holds you, his presence so warm.

"Life is not always fair, I know that and I also know that you don't believe that I mean it, that this won't change and…you're lying to yourself. I do mean it and this might change our lives a little but not for the worse. I love you, sweet girl, and I'll be here like you were for me," he kisses your forehead and keeps holding you close.

In the quaint Austrian countryside, where the hills whispered tales of old, lived König and you. Life is nothing but beautiful, especially now that he is retired. With changes and lots of cuddles, you slowly become used to this new part of yourself.

A/N: I think this part was shit...sorry..

Tags:

@shadofireshinobi @kit-kats06 @joyfulmarvelofavengers @luvecarson @hilmiponken @asgardswinter @141swhore @miscfandomwrites @itstrabunnybubbles @rockcollector3000 @certifiedcodbabygirl @eicee @liyanahelena @theineandonlyidiot @johfaam0 @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @frazie99 @spicypicklesoh @viomast @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @undercover-smutlover @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @saoirse06 @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @honestlyhiswife @ikohniik @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @tuihiatus @iruzias @sleepyycatt

[amkalus]

Looking for Potential Audience

Heya, I'm new to Writeblr world and willing to give it a try. Would anyone be interested in reading an adventure fantasy YA novel set mostly at sea? After being rejected 50+ times, I am considering potentially self-publishing it (and wondering if it'd be worth the trouble).

I have longed to have a heroine who represents this technically incurable health issue, given it affects one in every ten women. And I've longed for a story that encapsulates what it feels like to be hopelessly in love with the sea... so I wrote one.

The Sea Whisperer features:

FMC dealing with symptoms of PCOS [severe acne, suicidal depression, infertility etc.]

Enchanted lighthouse with a mysterious lighthouse keeper [there is sea magic involved]

Thousand-year-old prophecy and sea monsters

Old maps, leather-bound journals, and a pet sea hawk

Tall ships! lots of sails and ropes action

Friendships between women

Extremely subtle F/M romance

Sea Shanties

Island kingdoms and castles with opulent ballrooms [Anti-Colonialism Theme]

Here is the premise: The fishing village of Galacair has been the only home Earwyn’s ever known. Between the mysterious illness that plagues her and the villagers who consider her cursed, surviving gets harder with each dreary day. But there are whispers coming from the sea which ceaselessly beckon her, and an ominous vision of a calamity that haunts her dreams. Earwyn fears they could be a part of her illness too, and that madness has befallen her. The only one who seems to know something about it is Galacair’s lighthouse keeper, whose tower is as strange and remote as he is.

While I mainly wrote this story in dedication to all the PCOS women out there like me who are struggling to live with this and often failing, I also wanted it to be a personal tribute of mine to a lifetime spent by the sea, and to a family history filled with the adventurous spirit of mariners.

[sparkles-and-trash]

Sometimes it feels like people kinda forget your pain when it’s chronic.

When someone healthy/able bodied gets sick or injured, people will pour out their support and understanding right away, which is good, obviously.

But after a while, people get tired of hearing about it.

They get tired of having to work around it, tired of having to be understanding.

But just because your empathy fades, doesn’t mean our pain and grief does.

I’m so, so tired of my pain. Of having to be understood. Of not having any chance to have a proper career, or dreams, or relationship.

I’m tired of my hands not working enough for me to write, draw and craft, which is what is normally keeping me going.

They just keep getting worse.

I’m tired of the pains related to my endometriosis and pcos making me unable to eat properly, get any exercise, and for making me bedridden more and more these days.

I’m tired of having to beg for support in what little buisniess I manage to make sure I survive during my rough recovery periods after surgeries and bad flare up’s.

I’m tired of knowing my life will not be a long one.

I’m tired of complaining, of being in pain, of grieving, of feeling like a burden.

There are no breaks for me.

That doesn’t mean I get used to it. I will never be used to it.

And I think I should be allowed to talk about all of this without feeling like a burden.

I probably won’t ever get to that point, but this is me trying to get there.

By being open and honest, and hoping that at least one person takes the time to read.

If you’re still here, still reading, thank you. It means the world.

Be kind to those around you who are like me.

We’re not happy about our situations, either, but having people willing to stick around and listen makes it a little easier to survive.

Thank you ❤️‍🩹

[anabdaniels]

Cowboytober Day 1: Feederism

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Plus size female reader

Word counting: 2k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Self-fatphobia, minor eating disorder (if you read between the lines), reader has PCOS, unprotected sex, creampie

Main Masterlist | Cowboytober Masterlist

Calories, a lot of calories. That used to be the only thought on your head when you ate anything aside from fruits and vegetables, had grown up as a fat kid didn’t help at all with your relationship with food.

God or whatever above knew how much you tried to fit a size 0 jeans, how many crazy diets and fasting methods you tried all your life, but your genetics were inclined to the weight gain and the late diagnostic of PCOS assured you that the size 0 would be almost, if not impossible to reach. You hated to look at yourself for a long period, until you realized that it was pointless, being so mean to yourself wouldn’t make you skinny and it made you feel horrible for nothing.

On the complete opposite side of all this was Jack.

At the very moment you extracted from Ginger the names of Jack’s exes and went a bit too deep on their social media, you hadn’t a single doubt that he wasn’t truly interested in you and all that was a joke, because, in your mind, there was no way he would look at you after have dated girls that easily could be on the Victoria’s Secret fashion show.

What you didn’t know was that it had an explanation. While living in Bardstown, his hometown, he didn’t have many possibilities aside from skinny girls, both the fact that the small town hasn’t been dominated by the big city’s bad habits or because there, as in a lot of rural towns, girls would be taught since the early age that their lifetime goal could only be getting married, and no man would want a fat wife. When he got into Statesman, despite being in Louisville, Kentucky’s most populated city, the social circle in which he had been inserted was the high-class one and Jack knew very well that rich ladies would spend 90% of their lifetime on a doctor’s table if it was necessary, doing absurd amounts of plastic surgery just for the sake of remaining on that humanely unreachable skinny frame.

And then the night you met happened.

Jack got immediately interested as his eyes laid on you and when the common friend of you two told him cowboys weren’t your type, it didn’t prevent him from taking his chances with you, ending with you two getting married around five months later.

If anyone got to search for the meaning of happiness, the result would probably be an image of Jack randomly looking at you during the day. Not only were you the best wife he could ask for, loving his country life and dear animals as much as him, but you also made him feel loved and cherished for the first time in his life and looked like a damn walking dream in front of his eyes.

Jack always knew he’d be completely obsessed with every curve of your body at the moment he put his hands on you, what he didn’t expect was all the rest that seemed to awake inside him. It wasn’t just your plump body that drove him completely feral, but the idea that he could put a bit more weight on you casually making your favorite meals or buying your favorite snacks or candies and that he would get to see you eating every crumb of it got the man almost climbing up the walls.

His thoughts on that late morning weren’t so different from that as he cooked lunch while you were grooming and playing with the dogs. As you entered the kitchen, the warm smell of food felt like a caress on your nose. You approached Jack with a curious gaze, unable to suppress a smile when you saw that he had made gyoza, one of your favorite foods.

“You’re not from this world, cowboy.” You joked while wrapping your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

“What’s so shocking about a man pleasing his wife?” he turned his head slightly with a smirk, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, then holding one gyoza for you “Try it, my love.” You didn’t hesitate before doing it, chewing it slowly so you could savor every little taste your palate was able to identify. Jack couldn’t help but smile at your pleased expression.

“Damn, this is amazing.” You said after swallowing all the food “I’ll take a shower, then I’ll get back to smash these gyozas.” You chuckled and kissed his cheek before following upstairs.

You took a good time in the shower to get rid of all the fur from the dogs that was on you, when you walked back to the bedroom, you found quite a scene: the lights were turned off so the only lighting was from the windows, which wasn’t much considering the cloudy day; your favorite soft comforter on the bed, your all-time-favorite movie ready to be played, and the plate of gyozas on the nightstand.

“What did I miss?” you questioned approaching the bed and looking at Jack with a smile.

“Well, we have no work for the rest of the day, so I thought you might enjoy a little rest.” He said with that charming smirk, sitting on the bed and taping his thigh. You promptly moved to nest on his lap, smiling like a happy kid as he coed you in his arms.

You got quite entertained by the movie, even being the thousand time you watched it, having to worry about nothing but chew the gyozas since Jack was making sure to feed you. Being distracted by the TV, you didn’t promptly notice Jack’s fascinated expression observing you eat.

If he asked to, Jack would be unable to explain that feeling, but the simple image of you degusting food so unworriedly made him feral; your jaw moving as you chewed, the soft motion of your throat muscles as you swallowed, the way your belly got rounder when you got carried away and ate too much. Every single detail of that made him completely out of his mind, and it just got worse when he causally found some pictures of your wedding and confirmed that you had put on some pounds since then.

Jack got absorbed in his thoughts, still feeding and petting you, unable to suppress everything going on in his mind. You were clueless about everything until you shifted slightly to settle better and felt something pressing against your leg. At first, you assumed it would be the belt buckle, another second passed and you remembered Jack was wearing sweatpants, then it could be just one thing. You turned to look and confirmed what you already expected while seeing that familiar budge.

“Did I miss anything?” you questioned both curious and confused.

“I haven’t lied when I said you look adorable while eating.” Jack shrugged while caressing your neck. Despite his sincere tone, you got slightly self-conscious as you realized how many gyozas you had eaten, looking down with your cheeks flushed. “Hey” Jack grabbed your face between his hands “Don’t get shy, little bee.” He leaned to press a soft kiss on your forehead, moving his hands down to your stomach, caressing it gently, and taking a sigh from you. “C’mere. Let me show you how much I love every inch of you.” Easily he manhandled you to straddle his thighs, leaning to kiss your shoulder while caressing your hips.

You could only melt on his hands, enjoying how he grabbed handfuls of you, massaging and squeezing your plump flesh, leaving no doubts about how much he desired you. Being a smooth lover, Jack got you so entertained while kissing and groping you that it took a moment for you to realize he had taken off your nightgown, making no flourishes before sitting you on his cock since you were already dripping wet. It felt like your brain was turned off, your thoughts were a complete blur as your husband’s strong rough hands held and caressed your hips, keeping you comfortably in place as he fucked you slowly, his eyes never losing sight of every little detail of your plentiful frame.

Jack intended to hold his wider desires, but at the same time, he couldn’t control his imagination, so he decided to feed his thoughts, more exactly, feed you. Your wandering mind was brought back to reality as you felt a gentle rub on your bottom lip and you opened your eyes, finding Jack looking at you with a satisfied smirk, like a mischievous cat observing a fish. You didn’t quite understand what was the matter as Jack grabbed one gyoza from the plate on the nightstand but wasn’t hard to figure it out as he approached the delicacy to your mouth.

You weren’t totally surprised, was an open-spoken fact that Jack loved to see you eating, but yet you didn’t expect something that exotic. Yes, you knew it wasn’t that peculiar, but was a novelty between the two of you. Enjoying the idea and curious about how it’d come out, you parted your lips and sighed while, once more on that afternoon, Jack fed you. If you thought about that in another moment, you would have found the idea of eating during sex kinda strange, but somehow it was surprisingly good. The boozing feeling of having to process the amazing taste in your mouth and the marvelous steady thrusting on your cunt was unexplainably good.

And surely you weren’t the only one enjoying it.

If separately, having you on his lap while buried inside you or watching you eating was enough to get Jack out of his mind, both things happening simultaneously was almost too much for him to deal with. You were so pretty being all soft and letting out your pleasured noises, but doing that while chewing and swallowing food produced an overwhelming feeling in Jack that he would never be able to explain; the satisfaction of seeing you well-fed and the expectation that it might give you a couple extra pounds always made his brain shut down for a brief moment.

Somehow it was like both of you could read each other’s thoughts: you knew that Jack loved to keep you eating every chance he had and, despite your occasional self-conscious thoughts, you were aware of how much Jack loved and worshiped every part of your body, and, in the other hand, Jack knew you enjoyed to feel cared and accepted in his arms, getting rid of your concerns about anything and no less important, he knew you loved his food, so why not join it all?

At the pace another gyoza was carefully placed in your mouth, things started to get hard to manage, and you chewed the food with more strength than necessary since your body was starting to get slightly out of control. Realizing that and feeling his control vanishing, Jack gave up on his thoughts, grabbing your jaw with one hand, smirking as he felt you doing the best you could to chew the gyoza while his free hand sneaked between your legs, giving you a little push through the edge. You grabbed his arms, sinking your nails in his skin and hiding your face in the crook of his neck as you dived into pleasure, finally reaching that satisfying release while Jack pulled you closer, nibbling on your shoulder as he filled you up. The two of you remained like that for a moment, a total mess of softened limbs.

You mumbled quietly when Jack settled you better in his arms, caressing the chubby folds of your side and planting a couple of kisses on your temple. You looked up at him with a soft smile, closing your eyes as Jack pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, reinforcing your wish to not get out of that comfortable spot.

“I have a question.”

“Tell me, sugarcube.”

“Do you already have plans for dinner?” you did your best to hold back your laugh as Jack raised one eyebrow looking at you.

“I didn’t, but now I’m starting to have some ideas.” He answered in that cocky manner and leaned to press a soft kiss on your lips.

Tagging: @missladym1981 @alex-does-art-things @beefrobeefcal

[josephquinnswhore]

Hi there! Let me start off by saying that I absolutely adore your writing :D

I have a request if that is okay:

Could you do one of Pedro x plus!size reader where he comes home and finds reader on the couch/in bed crippled with awful period pains and are feeling really emotional about pain/how they look when like this? He does everything in his power to make them feel better (it breaks his heart seeing his world like this). Make it as emotional and as fluffy as you like!

Thankyou, take care <3

I’ve Got You - pedro pascal x plus size!female reader

Summary: Pedro takes care of you while you’re on your period.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: mentions of blood, insecurity, nudity, slightly suggestive behaviour & language.

Note: I’m going to make it that the reader has PCOS, I hope that’s okay. Cause it needs more awareness 🤍 thanks for requesting, I hope you love it. Thank you so much for your kind words anon, sorry for the wait 🥰

On a normal day, by midday you would have showered, cleaned the house, ticking off your chores one at a time as you listen to the music playing off the tv that had connected to your Spotify. You would have made yourself breakfast, normally something fresh and fulfilling and homemade. Lunch you would have made an extra serving for Pedro to enjoy when he got home, he was expected to be home around this time, and gone on a run around the city and stop by the local Starbucks for your routine afternoon coffee and cake with Pedro as you watch a movie. You’d have watered the house plants and read a few chapters of your favourite book that sat beside the bed as Pedro dozed off on your lap as you hold the book open in one hand skilfully and massaged his head with the other hand.

But today was not a normal day. It was a day where even at midday, 12pm. You were stuck in bed, still wearing your pyjamas from the night before, hair starting to form knots as you hadn’t taken out the braids or brushed it out. Your only moment out of the comfort you found in this bed was to go to the toilet, and even that was a struggle. You held both hands on your stomach, cradling it as if it would help alleviate the pain that had you doubled over as you waddle to the bathroom, when you realise you had just started your period, the inconvenience earning a groan from you. That was hours ago, 5 hours ago to be exact. You’d done nothing since, you were simply existing.

Pedro was due home any minute as you gather the strength to check the time, the watch on your wrist turning on the minute. Your cramps haven’t subsided, the worsening pain that formed in your abdomen has now spread to your thighs, back and even shoulders, your whole body aching from the severity of the pain your period brought on. You were diagnosed with a hormonal disorder, PCOS, which contributed to your excruciating period pains and emotionally charged state of depression. Your hormones had you in a vice grip, forcing the tears out of your eyes as the pain turns up a notch, your cramps unwavering in their determination to cause you as much pain as possible, your legs feel a sensation of numbness.

You just want to stand up, maybe just long enough to fetch a heating pad, or some sleeping pills to knock you out of the consciousness so you didn’t have to feel the pain, your stomachs emptiness added to the ache your tummy felt, the extra squish of your stomach ends up between your fingers tight grip, trying to create a new pain to destruct yourself with. Your frustration is growing by the minute, the pain and hormones are driving you insane, all you want is Pedro to come home and hold you. But also not want to see him at all, you never wanted him to see you like this; crippled and unhygienic, lethargic and depressed; the house was still a mess and you felt ashamed that nothing had been done.

The front door shuts and you brace yourself for Pedro to express his disappointment at the state of the house; and you. “Honey?” When he calls out you don’t respond, instead you clench your eyes, the tears that had been welling fell down your cheeks, your sobs you’d been holding in had escaped your wet lips. He didn’t expect to find you like this; but immediately knew what was happening, he knew what to expect with you, knew you were fragile and he had to tread carefully.

His large hand was soft on the side of your face as he caressed your cheeks, his fingers tickling you as he wipes your tears. “Oh honey.” You’re too ashamed to meet his gaze, you can feel his warmth and his soft gaze but you’re too embarrassed to look at him. His fingers carefully wipe the tears under your eyes, your wet eyelashes stick together as he does so. “Look at me honey.” His voice sounds like honey, it’s so sweet and tooth rotting, how could you not look at him when he asks. Your eyes open hesitantly, tears still falling from them and through the blurriness it creates you see a concerned look on your boyfriends face.

“I-I’m I haven’t cleaned or showered I just-“ your voice cracks and stutters from the emotion turmoil you’re going through. “Don’t ever apologise to me for that honey. You’re in pain and I don’t expect you to do anything while you’re suffering.” Your lip wobbles and you breathe out a laugh, sniffling as you realise how silly you feel for thinking he would be mad at you, he has never treated you anything less than perfect.

“Can you stand? We’re going to get you showered, it might help with the cramps.” You bit your lip, “I don’t know, I might need you to help me.” You mumble, “I got you honey, come on, that’s it.” His hands are outstretched towards you and guides you off the bed and into the bathroom, you’re half crouched over and holding your stomach, the movement seems to be helping the pain ever so slightly. He turns the hot water on high, the cold water barely running through the shower head. “Try the water hun and let me know how it feels.” You step to the edge of the shower, your fingers emerging into the steaming water and you hun in delight, “it’s perfect.”

“Let’s get you undressed now hm?” Your eyes held doubt, not wanting him to see the soaked pad you’re wearing. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, just let me take care of you.” You nod, silently agreeing to let him help you, your whole face is red in embarrassment as he undressed you, your pyjamas stripped of you and Pedro admires your body, your tits drop as they sit in place, slightly sagging from the weight of them, your soft stomach hangs over your pubic bone, your love handles poke out over your underwear, the small bow in the middle of them hidden until Pedro takes them off. He kneels down and cradles your stomach, kissing it, wishing he could do more to take the pain away.

His fingers hook underneath the band of your underwear, looking at you as he pulls them down, sensing your discomfort. You lift your feet and he pulls your underwear off your body, “hop in baby.” He urges and you do, a soft moan leaves your body as the steaming hot water hits your body, almost immediately providing a temporary relief, you hear the lord of the bin near the toilet close as he discards of your disposables. To your surprise, he strips of his own clothing and steps into the shower behind you, his hands are almost immediately on your hips, running up and down your curves, fingers digging in as he massages you, your knees almost buckle and he grips your hips, “got you baby, I won’t let you fall.”

The way his fingers felt on your skin was euphoric, all you could think about was how they’d feel in your- what was it with being on your period that made you so horny? You clench your thighs together and sigh in frustration. “I know baby, I know.” He kisses the skin between your neck and shoulder, worsening the urge to take him in the shower.

He’s soaping up a green luifer, the body wash suds smell amazing, the pomegranate and berry scent was incredible, the steam carried the scent throughout the room. He starts with your breasts, washing them and moving down to your stomach, paying extra attention to your abdomen, the soap between his fingers make them glide down your wet skin. It feels incredible, you feel clean and comfortable, the pain was barely noticeable with the hot water and the massage of Pedro’s fingers on your shoulders, he drags the soap down your back and rubs his fingers in circles, his skilled fingers create a sinful sensation that makes you throw your head back, resting on his chest and you hum to yourself in contentment. “How are you feeling honey?”

Your eyes flutter as they struggle to stay open, “feel amazing baby.” Your voice is almost slurred with how good you’re feeling. The laugh the comes out of your boyfriends mouth is a sweet melody to your ears, “we’d better get you something to eat, can’t have this beautiful tummy empty can we sweetheart?” You shake your head no, the grumble of your empty stomach agreeing with his statement.

When you’re dressed and out of the shower you feel a bit better, the ache is full and still lingering. Pedro offers some anti inflammatory tablets to encourage you to try and alleviate the pain.

He makes your favourite meal, cooks it fresh using ingredients from his fridge, your mouth is salivating at the smell as he’s cooking and you can hardly wait, but thankfully he’s quick in cooking you food knowing you’re impatient having not eaten at all today. Hell accompany the food with a bottle of water, he doesn’t want you to get dehydrated.

“You wanna pick the movie?” He asks, watching you as you eat your meal, the steam not deterring you from eating it although it’s hot. “Narcos,” you mumble with a mouth full of half chewed food, Pedro’s not bothered. He does raise an eyebrow at your choice of what to watch. “Seriously?” You huff, swallowing your food. “Yeah seriously, I wanna see my seriously sexy boyfriend when he was younger. Even though he is even sexier with age.” You sent him a wink and he chuckles at you, “okay, okay fine.” He plays what you want, just glad you’re feeling better, you’re feeling clean, refreshed, your pain is being medicated, your plush tummy is being attended to with your favourite food. The chores weren’t done; but to hell with the house. You were more important.

[fatphobiabusters]

I hear a lot about how fatness is a "risk factor" for certain illnesses and diseases. I don't hear much about how so are age, socioeconomic status, experiences of abuse, starvation, sex, race, queerness, and so many other aspects of a person's life. And that's because the world already for the most part accepts that a lot of these factors cannot be changed and that many of these factors are not what actually causes an illness or disease.

You don't develop a medical condition because your bank account suddenly shows a different, smaller number. You developed that medical condition because poverty means unbearable stress every day, less access to healthcare, worse housing, inability to clothe yourself for protection from the elements, having to overwork yourself to be able to afford your basic necessities, going without food, and so many other aspects of oppression. You don't weigh your wallet to measure your health because the amount of money you have is not what actually causes a medical condition.

But no one wants to look at the studies with legitimate methodology and admit that fatness is also in this category—that fatness is not something that we can just choose and will away, that fat people face immense systemic oppression just like any other oppressed group, that the correlation of fatness and illness is not some simple relationship of causation. And that's because doing so would mean no longer making hundreds of billions of dollars off of fat people's oppression and having to admit it's not actually okay to treat fat people as an acceptable punching bag.

When I look at medical information for whatever illnesses, see the risk factors laid out, and the only risk factor the website says to change is fatness? I think about all of the research I've read that shows actual permanent weight loss is as likely as finding Atlantis. The amount of hypocrisy at not telling someone to drink a youth potion as a form of treatment at the same time as they lose weight becomes so palpable that I can taste the dirty money being made off of this website telling people to "just lose weight, fatty." It's as cruel as selling an ill person a random crystal that you tell them will fix their health, which they then rely on instead of actual medical care, causing them to get worse and even die. And if you think that comparison is a stretch, you do not realize how many people die every day because they were told weight loss was the answer or were forced to lose weight before the doctor would actually respect them enough to run tests or so much as touch their fat body.

We live in a world where people with PCOS are told to "just lose weight" to solve their infertility, where that is the very first bullet point listed on a website about a medical condition that makes weight loss even more impossible than the already 95% failure rate for the general population. A world where fat people have to stick their own fat bodies with needles during a doctor's appointment because the doctor is too disgusted by fat rolls to even look at the person's body to give them a shot. A world where fat people with eating disorders are encouraged, applauded, and told to keep going while the thin person with an eating disorder has the "luxury" of receiving help, compassion, and a diagnosis that isn't separated in the DSM with the word "atypical." A world where a fat person accidentally given chemotherapy is told by the doctor "At least it helped you lose weight!" A world where weight loss corporations are making the exact same promises they did in advertisements from 1910, yet somehow over 100 years later we have an "ob*sity epidemic" because diets, weight loss products, and exercise regimens "Really work!!!"

If this single "solution" to ill health has not worked despite well over a century of desperate, constant attempts, maybe we should stop trying to jam a triangle into a square hole.

-Mod Worthy

[kcyars99]

This is Imane Khelif. She is a boxer from Algeria. 🇩🇿

You're probably going to be hearing a lot about her from your bigoted uncle this weekend, especially now that everyone's least-favorite bigoted aunt, J.K. Rowling, has offered her incredibly worthless opinion on today's fight between two cis (aka BiOLoGiCaL for y'all that need that) women.

Things worth noting: 🇮🇹 The boxer who quit today's fight--Angela Carini of Italy--said her quitting wasn't political and that she was not passing judgment on Khelif's eligibility. She said the shot to her nose did something different to her than most hits she's ever taken.

🇹🇼 Last year, Imane (along with Taiwan's Lin Yu-ting) faced a ruling by the International Boxing Association that they--despite being cis or 'BioLoGiCaL🥴' women--had "advantages" of a genetic nature, leading to a decision not to let them fight.

🇺🇸 U.S. swimmer Michael Phelps, celebrated as the greatest swimmer of all time, has a genetic condition where his body produces half of the lactic acid of a normal cis man. For this biological quirk (along with his hyper-mobility) he is lauded.

🇩🇿 Algerian sports officials and other Algerian athletes have spoken in Imane's defense, including national team soccer player ​​Ismaël Bennacer who said Khelif is "suffering a wave of unjustified hatred."

��� The Olympics do not recognize IBA or its rulings and carried out their own set of testing standards which every athlete you see competing had to pass.

🇯🇵 Imane also fought at the Tokyo Olympics in 2021, where she was beaten in the quarterfinals by Irish boxer Kellie Harrington--another 'BioLoGiCaL🥴' woman.

🥊 For the weirdos who obsess over genitals, this person was born with a vagina. Meaning that by y'all's weird rules where you want to check in kids' pants before they compete, Imane would be deemed "girl athlete."

🏊 Meanwhile, Katie Ledecky today became the most decorated women's swimmer ever by pulling in a silver medal, after yesterday continuing her long streak of dominating everyone in the world in the 1500, where she holds the top TWENTY best times. Ever. And people on the internet spent the day calling her a man.

🧨 This should be a nonissue, but JOANNE and Elon and your bigoted uncle are latching onto it because they want to continue to push the deadly narrative against trans folks via any possible means. Even in a case where the person they're demonizing isn't trans in the first damn place. If she as a cis woman has more testosterone than other cis women athletes, well, that's not all that uncommon. Y'all wanna tell women with PCOS that they're not really women?

🩺 I don't know how many times I've shared that Open Ocean Exploration thread, by a literal biologist, explaining how common it is that people have sex variations that they don't even know about. I'll share it again since it's just about the most concise look at X/Y diversity I've ever seen. It's really wild to watch folks who copied off of my in high school biology act like they know more than actual scientists and doctors every single time I post it. --Find that post here:

#ParisOlympics2024

#OlympiansMadeHere

#olympicsboxing

(This originally called Joanne a bigoted uncle while still using her correct pronouns which I think conveys that she's basically the living embodiment of everyone's metaphorical racist uncle, gender be damned, but a few people felt it was misgendering her which was very much not the point so I changed it just to stop infighting since there's already plenty enough fighting with actual bigots to be doing.)

[chxnelsims]

Day in the Life of a PCOS Girlie

Chanel's day incorporates lots of wellness practices to help her condition. Three short walks after meals to keep cortisol levels down, daily supplements, protein rich meals to help stabilize blood sugar levels and yoga with the fur babies to reduce stress. And ofc dinner with her favorite man in the entire world...just because!

[fluentmoviequoter]

In honor of PCOS Awareness Month, I (a diagnosed cyster) have compiled a list of characters that I write for who would be absolutely amazing supports and do everything they can to learn more about the condition and help you on good days, bad days, and everything in between.🩵

Deacon Kay and Dominique Luca win. They’d take such good care of you and everything else!!

Jim Street and Dick Grayson fall into the category of trying their absolute best (which is more than you could ever ask for), but they’re terrified inside that they’ll mess up and hurt you or make something harder for you.

Jason Todd practically earns a medical degree overnight. He can handle anything you throw at him, and he loves to do it. (He may hide that fact, because, you know…)

Sorry, Bruce. Bruce Wayne tries to throw money at the problem which anyone who’s ever tried knows doesn’t work. After that fails, he’s donating to charities to find a cure or better resources while doting over you.

PCOS affects mood, weight, cravings, anxiety, acne, excess hair growth, and just about everything else that can make you feel insecure or undesirable. Javi Esposito, however, makes you feel like the prettiest girl in the world.

Tim Bradford’s response depends. If you work with him, you’re getting gentle but invisible touches to your back or waist when you’re feeling bad. If you’re separate, part of his life outside of the uniform, I think he’d drop everything and just be there for you whenever and however you need.

John Casey is probably really awkward about it but somehow exceptional at cheering you up and supporting you. Neither of you know how he manages it, but he does.

I hate to say it, but part of me feels like Victor Vale doesn’t necessarily care. It’s part of who you are, he doesn’t care if you have a diagnosis or not. If you really need him to help with pain, he will, but outside of that, the level of interpersonal support and care you probably need is outside of his qualifications. I think Dalton Lambert is like this too; he’ll help if you ask, be slightly more mindful about it than Victor, but it would never really be his first thought or consideration.

Hal Jordan straight up shocks you out of mood swings or heavy cycles. You could be worried about anything, stressed, insecure, whatever, and he returns from Oa with the most insane story you’ve ever heard, and then you’re laughing and welcoming him home. When another wave hits or you remember, he’ll hug you, ground you, and then do whatever you ask. Or don’t ask, because he’s more intuitive than people (or DC, honestly) give him credit for.

I don’t even have to explain this: Stu Redman and Aragorn are walking angels.

Honorable Mentions: Seeley Booth would be fantastic about monitoring you and recognizing when you’re feeling off, and then doing something about it. Dean Winchester would offer pie. Shawn Spencer would sense that you were having a bad day and brighten it without trying. Carlton Lassiter would tell you to suck it up then awkwardly hug you and apologize. Neal Caffrey would ask if you like his hat.

I think that’s everyone. Whether you have PCOS or not, you deserve love and someone who treats you like the amazing person you are. You’re not alone.🩵