#it's about like. the way he's soft and kind despite everything

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 4 | masterlist

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There’s nothing else to do but pretend it didn’t happen. 

In the morning, you’re surprised to wake up and find him in the bed next to you, still covered in old sweat and dried cum. You suppose even in your sleep you’d unconsciously expected him to avoid the incident altogether—wake up extra early to shower while leaving you alone in the bed, giving you a modicum of privacy to digest the situation and its repercussions on your own.

He does no such thing.

“Morning, sweetheart,” John rumbles, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Feeling alright?”

Dangling precariously over the edge of oblivion. Some kind of abyss. The kind that says you might not like what’s down here, girlie, but still you sit by the edge and kick your feet. 

“Yeah,” you croak, and Lord, your voice is hoarse. Scratchy and rough, like it’s been dragged over sandpaper. 

“Good.” He lets his hand rest on the curve of your cheek for a second before pulling it away. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll shower after.”

The bed groans under his weight when he sits up, throwing his legs over the side before rising to his feet. You quickly avert your eyes at the sight of his naked backside, hairy there as well. A bear all over. Even his yawn reminds you of one. And the way that he stretches his arms overhead and every bone in his upper body cricks and cracks, the sounds of age manifold. 

You scrub yourself with shaky hands in the shower, gnawing at your bottom lip when you spread your puffy folds to find his cum still slightly tacky inside of you. Very bad. Scooping as much out as you can with your fingers, watching it run down the drain. Very bad indeed. 

John has breakfast on the table when you come downstairs and it seems, somehow, uncouth to just tell him you want to go home. So instead you force yourself to sit and eat, glad that he at least agrees that it isn’t the time for conversation. 

At the door, he sees you off with a hug, watching you from the door until you reverse out of his driveway and drive off, waving as you leave. 

“This is really bad,” you whisper to yourself on the drive home. “Really, really bad.”

Despite the morning after, the night you spent together is never explicitly spoken about. It’s not a ‘thing’ you discuss by any means. No sit down conversation, no awkward allusions to it, no talking around and around the events until the exchange becomes unbearable. It simply blips out of existence as soon as you change into your old clothes and John walks you to the door, seeing you out. 

You still show up the next day, as usual. Nothing’s changed except everything, but it feels taboo to even mention that things feel different. 

The world hasn’t radically changed since you accidentally slept with John, but it certainly feels that way sometimes. In the few delicate hours after leaving his house, you were sure he’d call at any moment to tell you that your services would no longer be required—that he’d send your last check in the mail before parting ways. So sure of that, in fact, that you’d put your phone on silent for hours before mustering up the courage to check your missed calls later that evening.

Only a few texts from friends. No missed calls from your employer. 

He doesn’t fire you. He certainly doesn’t treat you any differently the next time you come to babysit. You still get paid every week—though, admittedly, the money makes you feel a little weird now after sleeping with him, but it’s not like you can just turn your nose up at making rent—and everything else in your life stays exactly the same. If you weren’t now acutely aware of the feeling of your boss coming inside you, you might even think you dreamt it up. 

Still, despite John never bringing it up or even alluding to sleeping with you, there’s still a sense that he—

The soft, affectionate thanks, hun that he gives you when you bring him a glass of water on the rare day he comes home early to work out in the garage makes you shiver. 

His need to touch increases tenfold, matched only by his proprietariness. He must feel like after what you did together, it’s nothing for him to squeeze your thighs when he tells you that you did a good job with the baby or hug you extra tight when you’re about to leave. 

If you’re extra shy around him, he doesn’t remark on it. 

You’re levelheaded enough to know that he shouldn’t be so touchy with his younger female employee—his babysitter no less—especially after what happened, but it’s not as though he treats you like sleeping with you is a given. When a week goes by and nothing happens, you almost relax. Almost. Enough to let your guard down. 

But—

You can’t stop thinking about it though. It runs through your head every hour of every day, made worse by the fact that you see him six days a week, Sundays excluded. Sundays being your one day off, which you no longer look forward to but rather dread because Sundays mean no baby, no park, and no John Price.

So, you follow his lead and pretend like it didn’t happen. 

You think it’s past you; a terrible mistake that’ll never happen again until it happens again. 

Eight o’clock at night and the blue light from the television has begun to strain your eyes. Baby sleeping upstairs—you put him down a few hours earlier without much of a peep; had to check on him a few times, but otherwise the baby monitor sitting on the end table hasn’t so much as crackled, leaving you no choice but to doze off on the couch. 

When the door opens, it startles you awake. 

“Mr. Price?” you ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and clearing your throat.

John’s there when you twist around to peek over the back of the couch, filling out the door frame. Dishevelled after a long day’s work, his beard even more grown out than when he left earlier in the morning. A bit rougher around the edges, the day leaving its mark in the slight dark circles under his eyes and the set of his jaw, which only relaxes when he lays eyes on you. 

“Just me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, I…the baby’s been asleep for awhile, so I just thought I’d—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I know you’ve got it under control.”

“Let me just get my stuff and I’ll be out of your hair—”

He cuts you off with a wave, toeing his boots off at the same time. “No, no, no—you stay there and finish your movie. I’m gonna grab a drink and join you.”

There’s not much more you can say to that. Instead, you watch him take his bag upstairs to put away in the bedroom before you hear the sink turn on. Running water. 

You carefully avoid looking at him when John comes back downstairs, the creaking steps signalling his descent. He heads to the kitchen without stopping by the living room first. The light switches on with a click. The fridge door opens and bottles clinking together when he roots around for something to drink. 

And then you hear him make his way back to the living room. 

The unspoken pact to not bring up what happened the last time you spent any alone time together imbues you with a false sense of security. Part of you expects him to take the single recliner next to the couch, if only to put some distance between the two of you. 

Except when he comes back into the living room, he plops right down in the middle of the couch like always, close enough to you that you’re forced to scoot away, pressed up against the arm of the sofa. You shiver when he cracks open his beer and takes a swig, resting his arm on the back of the couch with the can held in a loose grip. 

“What’re we watching?” he asks, blatantly adjusting himself to get more comfortable on the couch. Even soft, the outline of his cock is visible through his trousers. 

You stare over at him nervously, unblinking. 

“Sweetheart?” John prompts when you don’t answer. 

“Oh, um…” You clear your throat again. “It’s just a Hallmark movie.”

“Cute. Well, we can keep it on. No sense changing it now.”

It’s tense for a little while. You keep your hands folded in your lap like a good girl and your eyes on the television. So you can’t stop inhaling the heady scent of tobacco and vanilla. So you can’t stop blinking your eyes, each blink heavier than the last until they spend more time shut than open. So you yawn and burrow deeper into the cushions, your head tipping back and nearly jarring you awake when you lean too far and topple over the side. 

When you lean the other way and start to doze off on his shoulder, he pulls you onto his lap. You squirm, initially resistant, but he shushes you before you can put up a fuss. 

“Just don’t want you to drool on my shirt,” he teases in a low murmur, smoothing a hand down your side and then it’s lights out for you. 

You wake to a blunt intrusion at your entrance. Half-awake and squirming, you vaguely feel him rub the tip of his cock up and down your pussy, teasing himself. The second you squirm just a little too much, he uses that little bit of movement to push the tip in. It pops in without much resistance; then the slow, methodical press inward, your walls squeezing around the thick length thrusting up into you. 

“Wha—” you whimper, keening when a big hand glides up your chest to squeeze a tit, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“S’alright, baby, it’s just me,” John murmurs, his voice right in your ear. 

You come to gradually and then all at once, aware of your back pressed to his clothed chest and your legs spread around his, your ankles hooked around his calves. Skirt rolled up and panties pushed to the side, one of his arms locked around your waist like a seatbelt to hold you in place. 

“John, I’m—we c-can’t do it again—”

“Sorry, honey,” he apologises into your neck, kissing the area he just spoke into. “Had to be inside you again. S’all I’ve been able to think about since you came on my cock the other night. Promise it’ll be easier this time, okay, baby?”

He guides you down his length until he bottoms out, slick lips kissing the base of his dick. The pressure is overwhelming; in your belly, in your throat, in your head. Heart beating a million miles a minute. Walls throbbing around his length, thicker and heavier than you remembered. 

All you can think of now is the last time he had you like this, legs spread for him and pussy dripping wet. Taking his cock all sleepy and sweaty under his giant comforter, whimpering into his neck. 

It’s not as frantic this time, no rush to the finish line. He seems to like just burying his cock in you while he plays with your breasts, pinching and plucking your nipples until they’re pebbled and sore. His hands aren’t particularly soft either, callused from years of hard labour. When you whine and try to push his hands away, he shushes you again, not paying your protests any mind. 

“Fuck, these are pretty,” John praises, staring down at your tits from over your shoulder. “No, baby, jus’ watch your show. M’gonna use your pussy for a bit, okay?”

It’s just that it’s—

When he lets go of your breast to play with your clit instead, you melt, any resistance going up in flames. The heat fans over your cheeks, your eyelids too heavy to lift, vision blurring even when you try to focus. 

He helps you grind your hips down on him, big hands like manacles on your waist. Little undulations of your hips. Short, shallow thrusts that keep you both right on the edge, drenching his lap with your juices. When he gets bored of playing with your clit, he switches back to your breasts, pawing at them and then bending down to suck a nipple into his mouth. 

Any time you get distracted by what he’s doing, he stops, holding you down on his cock and coaxing you to focus on the television in front of you instead. 

When he jiggles your clit, you seize up, heart hammering in your throat. 

“Good girl, c’mon—jus’ like that.” John presses a hot kiss to your temple, arm tightening around your front to keep you close. Sweet talks you through your orgasm, all vaguely paternalistic and patronising in the best and worst way.  

He makes you lean forward so he can bounce you on his dick after, your hands braced on his knees to keep yourself upright. 

“Ah, ah, ah, ah—”

“Almost there, honey, jus’���fuck, perfect, yeah, tighten up like that. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He comes with a strangled moan, still cognizant enough to keep the volume down even if you can’t. Shuttles you down onto his cock a few more times until you’re filled to the brim with cum. 

In the aftermath, he sits you back against his sweat-matted chest and pushes his cum back into your sore cunt with his fingers when it dribbles out. Ignores your wounded little sounds like they’re just background noise. He even makes you suck his fingers to clean them up, the digits coated in your combined juices. 

“Best fuckin’ girl,” John growls, pressing another kiss to the side of your head. Your fingers twitch feebly in your lap. 

Pretending like it didn’t happen after the second time around doesn’t seem wise, but still you don’t know how to broach the subject. 

Especially since you know it’s going to happen again. 

John doesn’t say it outright, but his actions speak for themselves. An arm looped around your waist casually in line for coffee. Paying for the two of you in any situation, you having your own source of income be damned. 

“It’s my money anyway, sweetheart,” he says when you point that out. “Might as well just pay now.”

And doesn’t that just send you into a tizzy, head spinning and mouth agape. Embarrassingly so. 

Not to mention you still have this strange, sycophantic need to please him, even after everything. The complicated nature of your relationship aside, it still makes your heart flutter to hear him praise you for anything. 

That’s how you end up in his bed on a Saturday afternoon, taking a nap with him after a long day out in the sun. Two hours spent at the botanical gardens, the sun beating down on your head, lathering sunscreen on the baby’s sensitive little arms and legs, and swiping it over his cheeks. John sporting a mild sunburn near the collar of his shirt where he forgot to apply sunscreen and when you have the audacity to giggle, he pulls your baseball hat down over your eyes. 

It’s almost too easy for him to coax you into his bed, even though you’re adamant about keeping it clean. A hand firm on your back up the stairs. Already yawning when you put the baby down for a nap, so why not take one too? Ushering you into the bedroom when you say you can take the couch, but why, he presses, take the couch when you’ve already shared the bed before?

Well, because the last time—

He draws the blinds shut and climbs into bed, pulling you into his chest. 

You wake up to John plastered against your back, bare cock nudging against your cunt while he snores into your neck. You don’t remember him curling up next to you without any clothes on, but he must have taken off his pants in his sleep, now somewhere rumpled at the end of the bed. 

When you try to quietly pull away, his arms just tighten around you more, grumbling in his sleep. The sound makes you freeze, going quiet as a mouse. A few more minutes go by before you feel confident enough to try moving again, carefully trying to slide out from his hold. 

You wiggle a hand out, reaching for the other end of the bed.

The hand resting on your belly dips low, shoved between your legs and feeling you up before you can do more than gasp. The man behind you gives a short exhale, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, rising out of it like a wave now that he feels something wet under his hand.

“Oh, honey…why didn’t you tell me you needed my cock again? You’re leaking right through your panties,” John rasps, dragging your underwear down to mid-thigh. 

A big bear hand clamps over your mouth before you have a chance to protest. There’s nothing you can do to keep his knee from spreading your legs and feeding his cock into your drenched centre with his other hand. As soon as he notches the head against your entrance, it’s a smooth glide in. 

“There we go,” he pants into your neck. “Big stretch—ah, yeah, nice ‘n tight. That’s my pretty girl.”

He keeps your legs spread with a hand on the inside of your thigh. All you can do is moan behind his hand, humid breath blowing back around your face as you pant. So hot for it that you’re almost nauseous. 

You’re a bit too tight for him to fit his cock in you, so he has to work to stretch you out, bullying another inch into you with every thrust. The angle makes it tricky though; means he can’t get more than half of his cock into you. It’s hardly comfortable for you either, your leg already cramping. 

“My leg’s got a cramp,” you whine, unsure of what you want to happen. All you know is that you can’t keep this up. 

He readjusts his grip, but that just makes you hiss, wincing when that makes your leg twinge. Suddenly the world spins, the pillows going from comfortably under your head to right in your face, John manoeuvring you onto your tummy and hiking your hips up a few inches. It lets him get even deeper, the angle letting him slide right to the hilt. 

“Oh god, oh god—John, I can’t—”

“Shh—you’re alright, honey. Much better like this,” he breathes, settling on top of you. It takes him a second to get comfortable, nudging right up against a sensitive spot inside of you the whole time, so deep you can almost feel him in your throat. 

He weighs a ton on top of you, rutting between your thighs like he can’t hold himself back, his self-control snapping like brittle glass. Bristly beard chafing your neck when he buries his head to suck on the tender skin there, smothering you under his weight. Thighs trapping you in place, your memory jumping back to that time at the beach, but now there’s nothing between you. Just a thick cock pounding into you and moulding you around its shape.  

His hips slap against your ass with every thrust, the lewdest sound you’ve ever heard. 

“Gonna make sure it takes this time,” John grunts. “Wanna take care of my baby so bad? I’ll give you a couple to mind.”

That rattles you right to your core; shakes you to the foundations of who you are. You don’t know what to think, what to say—tongue tied and loose lipped all at once. You’ve let him come inside of you so many times that if it hasn’t taken already, surely it will soon. 

It slips out before you can take it back. “D-daddy, please—” 

That makes him lose his mind. Just a bit. 

“Fuck,” he snarls. “Again.”

He wedges his arm under you to curl his hand around your throat, tilting your head out. 

“Daddy—daddy—please, I wanna come—” you pant, repeating the same word until it sounds like nothing, tongue puffy in your mouth. 

His dick slips out at some point and he wrenches himself off you long enough to wrap his hand around himself and slap it against your ass a few times, cum tagging your skin. Your breath catches in your throat, whining when you clench down on nothing. One stroke after repositioning himself and he’s all the way back in, hammering the spot that makes you go cross-eyed and squeak. 

“Make daddy another baby, okay, sweetheart?” It’s not sweet. It’s not doting. It’s growled into your ear like a demand, punctuated by the way his hips snap forward, nearly sending you into the headboard. 

You’re practically an old hat at taking his cum now, squeezing up when you can feel it coming and giving him a nice little treat. He sinks his teeth into the back of your neck when he does, muffling the sound roaring out of him, and it hurts. 

He’s tender with you after though. Lavishes the line of your neck with soft kisses; murmurs sweet nothings into your ear while you cry fat tears onto the pillow. Even twists and turns so you’re no longer on your back but rather splayed across his chest again, urging you up for a deeper kiss with tongue. 

“‘Know you’re tired, sweetie, but this is for your own good,” John murmurs as he wedges a hard thigh between your legs and makes you ride it, grinding your sensitive, throbbing clit down on the muscle. “Can you come, baby? Jus’ like that—that’s good, baby—”

It hurts so good that you don’t even notice when you squirt, the emotions too big for you. It’s like being squeezed too tight, unable to catch your breath or say anything but the same word on a loop. John’s sweet about it though—wipes the sweat from your hairline and upper lip, talking you through it until you slump down on his chest, legs akimbo.   

For a bachelor, you think in a daze, he’d make a good husband.

The days grow colder and the sun sets earlier.

A while ago you thought maybe this babysitting gig would be temporary. That at some point you’d move on—maybe go back to school or apply for a more standard nine-to-five job. That’s how the trajectory of your life was supposed to go, you think. 

But the timing never seems right. Maybe you’ve grown too attached to the baby or maybe the pay is just too good to give up or maybe you’ve just become habituated to someone getting you off at least every other day. Still, it feels a bit weird to get paid for what essentially boils down to fucking a man and taking care of his baby. 

It comes up when you’re sitting out on the porch with him again, this time in his lap in the same adirondack chair, a blanket wrapped around you to keep you warm. John laces his fingers through yours, thumb stroking over your finger, burning a line into the skin.

“Doesn’t it make you feel weird to pay me for…” you say, trailing off with a cocked eyebrow. Surely he must catch your drift. 

He chuckles. You wait for the joke.

Your eyes must be big as moons staring up at him. 

“Don’t think of it as a paycheck, sweetheart. That’s your allowance.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and swallow. 

“Okay,” you whisper. Then let him reel you back in for another kiss, his thumb resting over your ring finger and pressing.

[solxamber]

Desperate Confessions with: Jamil Viper, Sebek Zigvolt

Others: Riddle and Leona

Jamil Viper

The kitchen was filled with the soothing clatter of utensils and the faint aroma of simmering spices. You were chopping vegetables with practiced ease, seamlessly slipping into the rhythm of Jamil's kitchen. He stole a glance at you—your focused expression, the casual way you moved as though this chaotic dance of preparation was second nature to you.

You didn't hesitate to reach for the salt he needed, passing it wordlessly, or to stir a pot he’d left unattended while juggling a dozen other tasks.

It wasn’t the first time you’d done this—helped him without making it a grand gesture, without expecting recognition. But today, something was different. Today, it felt like a dam broke inside him.

Jamil stopped chopping, the knife trembling slightly in his hand. His heart pounded against his ribs, a wild, relentless drumbeat that left him breathless. You were talking, something light and offhanded about how he always managed to make dinner look easy despite everything. But the words blurred in his mind, drowned by the overwhelming realization that he couldn’t keep holding this in.

He couldn’t keep swallowing his feelings, pretending that the way you effortlessly lightened his burdens didn’t mean the world to him.

The air felt charged as he set down the knife, turning to face you. His hands clenched at his sides, his breathing uneven.

“Jamil?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. “What’s wrong?”

He took a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “I—” He paused, his voice faltering as a wave of emotion surged through him. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to gather himself, but it was no use. The words spilled out in a rush, raw and desperate.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he confessed, his voice low but trembling with intensity. “I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t drive me insane—how you’re always there, always helping, always making everything easier without even realizing it. You don’t expect anything, you don’t ask for anything, and it—it’s too much.”

Your eyes widened, and you opened your mouth to respond, but he continued, unable to stop now that he’d started.

“I don’t just want your help. I don’t just want your kindness. I want—” His voice broke, and he took another step closer, his heart hammering so fiercely it felt like it might break free of his chest. His hands reached for yours, hesitating for a moment before finally grasping them gently but firmly, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“I want you,” he finished, his voice soft but unyielding. “I want to be the one who gets to take care of you the way you take care of everyone else. I’ve been holding this back for so long, but I can’t anymore. I…” His voice dropped to a whisper, his dark eyes searching yours with a vulnerability he rarely let show. “I love you.”

You stared at him, speechless, as his words sank in. The air between you felt electric, heavy with unsaid things. His gaze flickered down to your lips, and he felt an almost unbearable urge to close the distance. His grip on your hands tightened slightly, his restraint wavering.

“I shouldn’t,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “But I can’t—”

“Then don’t,” you interrupted softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

He froze, his breath catching as you leaned in, closing the gap between you. His lips met yours in a kiss that was equal parts tentative and desperate, like he’d been starving for this moment for years. His hands cupped your face gently, reverently, as though you were something fragile and precious.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. You smiled at him, your cheeks warm, and he couldn’t help but mirror it, his usual guarded expression melting into something softer, something unguarded.

“I love you too,” you said, your voice steady despite the rapid fluttering of your heart. “And I’m not going anywhere, Jamil.”

His shoulders sagged, as though a weight he’d carried for far too long had finally been lifted. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close, the smell of spices and warmth enveloping both of you.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jamil allowed himself to want something—no, to want you. And as he held you, he knew he’d never let you go.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was, as usual, in the middle of a passionate lecture about Malleus, his voice booming with fervor. You had long since learned to tune out the dramatics and focus on the little things—the way his hands gestured wildly as if the fate of the world depended on it, the way his ears twitched when he got particularly worked up, and the faint pink dusting his cheeks whenever you gave him a little too much attention.

Today was no different. You sat beside him on the bench, letting his enthusiasm wash over you like white noise, a faint smile playing on your lips. Without thinking, you leaned against his shoulder, sighing contentedly as you rested your weight against him.

The effect was immediate. Sebek stiffened like someone had swapped his spine with a metal rod, his words faltering mid-sentence.

“And that’s why—why Lord Malleus is… what are you—what are you doing?!” he stammered, his voice an octave higher than usual.

You blinked up at him innocently. “Listening. You were saying something about Malleus and… moonlight?”

His ears turned a shade of pink that would’ve been comical if your heart wasn’t busy fluttering at how adorable he looked when flustered.

“Stop that,” he grumbled, glaring at nothing in particular.

“Stop what?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“Smiling!” he snapped, his voice cracking slightly.

You tilted your head, puzzled. “Huh? Why?”

“Because…” He clenched his fists, as though physically restraining himself from blurting out something disastrous. But it was no use. The truth clawed its way out of him, raw and unpolished. “Because I… like it too much.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Sebek immediately averted his gaze, as if the sky might mercifully swallow him whole if he refused to acknowledge you.

You stared at him for a moment, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. A teasing smile spread across your face as you reached out, grabbing his face gently but firmly between your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Sebek,” you said, your voice light and playful despite the warmth blooming in your chest. “Do you like me?”

His eyes widened, and for a split second, he looked as though he might faint on the spot. But then the dam burst, and all his pent-up frustration and longing came pouring out in a torrent of words.

“You’re unfair! Your smile is cruel! You haunt my every waking moment with your ridiculous kindness and your infernal warmth! How am I supposed to serve Lord Malleus with any semblance of dignity when you—when you—” His voice cracked again, and he looked down, his expression somewhere between mortified and miserable. “…when you’re so you.”

The confession hung in the air, and you couldn’t help it—you leaned in and kissed him, cutting off his rambling in the gentlest way possible. His lips were warm and slightly chapped, and he froze for a moment, clearly too overwhelmed to compute what was happening.

When you pulled back, you were grinning, your face flushed. “There. Better?”

Sebek sat there, his face an unreadable mix of shock and flustered indignation. He touched his lips like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. And then, as if the words were yanked from him against his will, he blurted, “That’s not enough!”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Not enough?”

He cleared his throat, his ears practically glowing. “I need to… confirm. One more time. For certainty!”

You chuckled, your chest aching with fondness, and leaned in again. “If you insist.”

This time, he kissed you back, hesitant but earnest, his hands hovering awkwardly before finally resting on your shoulders. When you finally pulled apart, Sebek looked like he’d just run a marathon, his face flushed and his eyes dazed.

“Happy now?” you teased, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

“…For now,” he muttered, his voice barely audible, but the shy smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

Masterlist

[v6quewrlds]

can u write a fluffy clingy joe one shot?? maybe building legos or something!! i love ur work!! i hope u have a nice day!!🫶🏾

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: here's a fluffy little palette cleanser <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 0.9k.

The scent of cinnamon wafted through the air as you stirred the pot of homemade hot chocolate on the stove. You glanced at the clock; it was already past six in the evening, and the darkness outside pressed against the windows like a heavy blanket.

"Joe," you began as you poured the steaming liquid into two oversized mugs, "I understand you're upset, but maybe you should take this week to recharge. Watch some movies, play some video games, do something that doesn't involve football."

Joe sighed, taking the mug from you with a nod of gratitude. "You're probably right," he admitted. "But it's hard to sit still when all I can think about is what we could be doing to fix things."

You kissed his forehead gently. "You can't control everything, Joey. Sometimes you just have to trust that things will pan out the way they're meant to." You leaned in for a quick peck, then stepped back to pick up your warm mug.

Joe sighed again, his eyes lingering on the TV that was muted in the living room, displaying highlights of the Cavs-Pelicans game. "Fine," he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

"Fine," Joe repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can we build that Lego set we got last Christmas?"

Your eyes lit up. "Seriously?" You had been dying to tackle the intricate, sprawling Star Wars that had remained in its box since Joe's brother, Dan, gifted it for Christmas. "You know I've been waiting for this moment."

Joe nodded with a hint of excitement in his voice. "Yeah, I figured it's time we put it together." He followed you to the living room, where you cleared the coffee table with a dramatic flourish.

You sat down across from each other, the instructions sprawled out between you. You picked up the instructions, your eyes scanning the pages. "Okay, we're building the Death Star," you said with a smile. "Where do we start?"

Joe leaned over, his sarcasm in full swing. "I'm surprised you remember what it is. You're the one who said it looked like a giant space donut when we opened the box."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Hey, I know my Star Wars!" you protested. "The 4,000-piece count kind of took me by surprise, though."

Joe chuckled, sifting through the pieces. "Alright, space donut expert, let's get to it."

Your eyes were glued to the instructions, the pieces scattered around the two of you like a colorful minefield. A soft laugh filled the room as you held up a tiny Lego stormtrooper, your thumb and forefinger framing it like a photograph. "Look at this little guy," you said, grinning. "He's so cute."

"Cute? He's a symbol of imperial tyranny, babe," Joe retorted with a chuckle, earning a playful shove from you. Despite his initial hesitation, Joe was fully invested in the project. His mind was clear of the team dynamics that had consumed him all week. The Legos demanded his focus, and he gave it willingly.

You took a sip of your now lukewarm cocoa and leaned in closer to examine Joe's progress. "Looks pretty impressive," you said.

Joe glanced up, his cheeks reddening slightly. "It's just Legos," he said, but you could hear the pride in his voice.

"No, it's not just Legos," you replied, setting your mug down. "I love it when you get all focused like this for something other than football. It's cute."

Joe rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Cute, huh?"

You nodded. "Yeah, like a big ol' teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" Joe scoffed, but the playful teasing had lightened his mood. "I'll have you know I'm a very intimidating Lego architect."

You couldn't help but laugh at his defensive tone. "Oh, absolutely," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm quaking in my boots."

Joe smirked and tossed a Lego at you. It bounced off your arm and you feigned injury. "Careful there, Burrow," you said, your voice full of mock pain. "You wouldn't want to hurt the one who's keeping you fed and hydrated."

"Well, you're not helping much with the whole 'keeping me hydrated' part," Joe quipped, nodding towards his nearly empty mug. "I'll need more of that hot cocoa if I'm going to get through this."

You stood up with a smile. "Your wish is my command," you said, practically skipping back to the kitchen. As you brought the pot to a boil again, you watched Joe through the archway. The stress of the season had etched lines into his face, but as he worked on the Death Star, you could see them slowly smoothing out.

When you returned with the freshly filled mug, Joe took a grateful sip and leaned back, eyeing the progress. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I've been so caught up in work that I forgot how much I enjoy just... doing nothing."

You sat back down on the floor, your mug now steaming in your hands. "It's important to have hobbies," you agreed, your voice gentle. "Things that make you happy outside of football."

Joe nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before returning to the Legos. "You're right," he murmured, his voice a mix of acceptance and regret. "I just... I want to win so badly."

You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "I know you do," you said softly. "And you will. But you'll have to wait a week to do it. For now, just enjoy the quiet."

[xoxochb]

omg aphrodite!reader having her first kiss with percy <3 it would be so cute rahhh

— ribbons in your hair ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: fluff fluff fluff!!! pairing: lovesick! percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite

“do you like ‘em?”

you smile brightly and turn around with a jump, revealing to percy your two braided strands tied at the ends with tiny pink ribbons. what kind of question was that, though? like them? of course he liked them! he liked anything that had anything even slightly to do with you.

“they’re great! I love them.”

you squeal and run over to sit atop your bed next to percy. absentmindedly, he takes this opportunity to take each of your braids between his palms delicately thumbs running over the curves of your hair, and ending over the ribbon tying it all together. he silently hopes you can’t see the utter adoration in his eyes or perhaps the faint blush coating his cheeks or the way he feels completely limp simply sitting beside you.

“(name)…” he murmurs, releasing your hair and letting his hands now fall on his lap.

“yes?”

shit. the soft tone of your voice makes him feel weak. thank the gods he’s sitting down.

“uhm…” he searches for the right words. no. he shouldn’t do this now, not when one of your siblings could walk in at any moment (and he new drew wasn’t entirely the nicest person either. that girl’s scary as shit). “nothing.”

you murmur an ‘oh’ and your smile falls into a frown.

“sorry, I just- well… it was nothing important, I didn’t think you’d care much.”

“I care about everything you have to say. even if it’s stupid. or one of your stupid dad jokes.” your lips turn upwards a tad at the mere remembrance of his idiotic humor.

“you hate dad jokes.”

“well, yours are okay.”

percy’s heart flutters like butterfly wings. please aphrodite don’t make me look stupid, he thinks to himself. though by now he’s probably already made a fool of himself. he’s hopeless. slowly, with a shaky hand, he reaches out to gently take one of your hands into his. he looks up to meet your eyes to look for any sign of discomfort with the action. he finds nothing.

“(name), have you ever…” he swallows harshly. “have you ever kissed anyone before?”

your brows furrow and you murmur, “no.”

oh. he was sure you had to have kissed someone before. you were… well, you! a favored daughter of aphrodite, kind, absolutely stunning, and admittedly a little horrifying sometimes. he loved you all the same regardless.

“I’ve never kissed anyone either.” it’s silent for a moment before he works up the courage to ask the next question. “would you maybe want to… well actually- can I tell you something?”

“of course.”

“this might be weird and I’ll understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore or if you’ll hate me… but I just… I really like you. more than friends. and I get this is weird but I really like you, it hurts, like in my chest it physically hurts me and it’s hard going everyday not telling you that I love you when I do and its almost unbearable at this point, I mean you occupy all my thoughts everything’s always about you, and don’t get cocky over that because I know you will and you’ll never let me get over telling you that but really what I’m trying to say is that—”

his ramble is abruptly ended when he feels a sudden warmth over his lips. for a moment he can’t understand what’s happening, but when his senses are regained he realizes it’s your lips that are locked with his, and his brain turns to soup, any coherent thought he once had diminished. and he lets himself sink into it despite the nervous storm of butterflies in his tummy.

when you eventually pull away he nearly whines at the loss of contact. though he remembers your hands are still entwined and calms. his gaze sticks on that.

“you talk too much,” you whisper. “and you’re right.”

“about what?” percy looks up to your eyes. though the mischievous glint in them makes him wish he hadn’t asked for clarification.

“I am so never going to let you forget that everything is about me.”

[georgiapeach30513]

Trying To Save Me, Part 3

Summary: you make a deal with the white wolf

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, crude language, crude sexual talk, bit of a mention of a breeding kink, teasing, a bit of a chase kink, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.5K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*Moodboard created by @theinheriteddutchess *dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Bucky’s crystalline eyes peer out into the early morning frost. White and ice. The only thing he has ever seen outside his window. He was promised so many things, and while some of those promises are just right outside his door, he feels further away than he’s ever been.

His chest rises and falls peacefully despite the irritation that courses through his blood, and he tries to keep it controlled. Control is something he’s been lacking. You just make him feel so feral. You breathe the possibility of a normal world without snow, and still you refuse him. Denying your fate, and the prophecy itself. But also him. It’s infuriating.

An arm lays over his body, and it takes everything inside Bucky to not recoil in anger. They were all wrong. Sex without feeling pleasure really isn’t even worth it. They meant nothing to him, apart from the need to quench his unsatiated desire, but they never do. Their scents were disgusting, cloying even. And this one in particular is becoming the bane of his existence.

Her hand roams further down his body, traveling so low that she grips the base of his soft cock. A deep rumble erupts out his mouth, and she doesn’t get the warning. Her lips start kissing over his naked back, although it’s more eating him with her open mouth, and disgusting saliva dampening his flesh. His breathing comes out in low growls. He wants her gone. Wants her hands off him.

She moans at the feeling of his heated skin. Not realizing the heat is emanating his anger. She annoyingly whines out, “Your highness,” before pulling him towards her, so he lays on his back, and her leg swings over his body. “Fuck me,” they always desire more the next morning, and he rarely gives in to them. He’s tired and has received nothing from her. “Come on, baby, fuck me.”

“No,” he answers simply, but she grinds down viciously, continuing her pleas. Bucky allows her another few rolls of her hips before an animalistic noise barks out, and he snaps his teeth. The woman scurries off his body, pulling her tattered clothes around her. “You may leave.”

Stunned, she looks at him oddly. He hates this kind of woman. “Go!” He shouts, throwing a blanket at her. “Get out!” Gathering up the blanket, she wraps it around her body before fleeing his chambers. Meeting Steve on the way out.

“I thought I told you to leave?” Bucky says with no emotion.

“You didn’t,” Bucky peeks his eyes open, and looks at his friend blankly. “Your princess is getting more irritable, and cold in her cage. I think it’s time to cover your body, and tend to her.”

“She won’t let me,” not in the way that he wanted to tend to you. You didn’t even want him anywhere near your body, much less allow him to show you some kindness. A stubborn mule.

Steve goes to the king’s closet before tossing a few things at him, “I didn’t say fuck her. I said tend to her. Do you honestly think a girl who has lived alone, survived alone, and was taught to fear us, and you particularly you, is going to get on her knees and beg you to fuck a baby in her?”

Bucky’s brow cocks up as he stretches in the bed. He throws two legs over the bed, and reaches towards his clothes, “It’d be much easier if she did.”

“And then she wouldn’t be who the prophecy talked about, now would she?” Bucky supposes Steve is right. Doesn’t mean he wished he could easily fulfill their destiny, and his undying need to breed. It was nothing but what his body yearned to do, find its mate. So he was told that is what his unique urges meant. Maybe everyone was wrong.

“A woman like that will need time,” time that really wasn’t available. The kingdom is growing weaker from hunger.

“Do you think we have the time?” He asks, pointing towards his windows.

“I don’t think we really have a choice,” Bucky’s gaze goes blurry. Staring at absolutely nothing, but letting the words set in. He is the sole person responsible for changing the world. Well, with your help. “I don’t think taking the time to get acquainted with her, and to give her time is a bad thing. You could do with a bit more humanity.”

Bucky snorts, stretching his aching bones again. Winter is bitter in so many ways. “Might I suggest the sacred garden?”

“No,” it’s premature to take you there. To give you a taste of what could be outside. You hadn’t earned that place yet. “She can go outside, and look at what was the garden,” Steve only shrugs as he opens the door. And Bucky walks to it, getting an eye full of you glaring up at him through furrowed brows.

“You appear cold, Lumi,” what you appear is irritated that some whore came out of his bedroom again. “Although the cold does make your nipples look especially delicious,” Bucky gets a knock in the back of his head from Steve, “I apologize for my outburst. Steve, go fetch Wanda, so she can get dressed.”

You didn’t want or need her to help you again. You are fully capable of getting yourself dressed. Unless it’s yet another layer upon layer of skirts. Lacing up a corset would pose some difficulties as well. Okay, maybe for this type of dressing you did need someone.

Bucky leans up against the opposite side of the hall, his cold eyes never stopping their assessment of you. “Do you have to stare at me like you’re going to be quizzed about my anatomy?”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“It’s fucking weird,” Bucky groans, but doesn’t stop looking at you. You’ve never had someone study you quite as hard as he is. He looks positively enthralled with you just sitting there, doing absolutely nothing but staring right back at him.

Wanda comes to you, her hands filled with skirts, and silks. Clearing her throat, Bucky at least turns around, giving you the tiniest bit of privacy, even though you’re in a hallway. Without speaking, you just allow Wanda to assist you in every aspect of getting dressed. Gone would be the pants, and ability to flee quickly. And even in this fortress of a castle, you didn’t have enough wits about you to get out of the winding maze.

A deep growl grows from Bucky’s chest, and you glance up to him. His face is reddened, and teeth baring, “Turn. The. Other. Way,” he grits, and you look over your shoulder to see a man retreating down the hallway.

“Wanda,” Bucky turns towards her as she pulls the silk dress over your head. Bending down, she straightens everything up before she stands upright to look at Bucky. “Have Steve bring the cage into my bedroom. I won’t have people coming up and viewing their future queen in such an intimate way.”

While you’re thankful, you want to roll your eyes. Wasn’t it him that had you on all fours, looking at your cunt while his court was in the same room? Maybe they were different. Wanda places the necklace that is actually Bucky’s leash for you over your neck before curtsying and leaving you and Bucky alone.

He surprises you by holding up a hand for you to take, and greedily, you accept. For as cold as you always are, Bucky’s hands are more like a crackling fire. Everything about him is warm. Except his cold eyes and demeanor. His body, and movements radiate heat. And while he’s alone with you, even his attitude isn’t quite so cold.

“You’re not the only one thrust into this prophecy, you know?” A decades old prophecy that had cursed your father, and family. And cursed Bucky. What a stupid curse to affect the entire kingdoms. Kingdom. Seeing how there’s only one now. “I didn’t want to marry you either.”

You scoff, looking over towards him, “I mean,” he stutters. Did you actually make him rethink his approach? “Imagine being told your whole life you were to marry someone you didn’t know. Imagine having this madness consume you as you searched the snow for one person. Wildlings are a bit more adept in the winter than most of us here. My people have become spoiled and lazy on how to protect themselves, relying only on the castle, and our army.”

“You’re using ‘they’ as if you’re not doing the same thing,” he huffs out of a laugh, and you wish he would tell you more. There’s more to Bucky than you initially thought. But his hot and cold behavior are more than you can stand. “What do you know about the life outside of these walls?”

“You’d be surprised. A king doesn’t just sit on his throne, while everyone else around him gets worked to the bones. No, I like to dive in and just be as big a part of something as my soldiers. Sometimes more,” you highly doubt that. You even doubted that Bucky went outside the castle city. He stayed inside the walls for protection. None of the wildlings were particularly fond of the king and his court. Not that they ever could control the wildlings. It’s a cruel and harsh world out there. Most just leave them to their devices.

“You doubt me. I’ve been further past the castle walls than most would believe. I’ve always had this ability to look completely different if I will it. Nobody ever wonders if it’s me,” it isn’t quite difficult to accomplish that. If he dressed in different clothes than his finery, then he would blend in with the crowd. “What was it like to live out there?”

“You live in constant fear,” Bucky’s gaze turns towards the front, ignoring you beside him. “Especially once my tribe was killed off. Malik was murdered, and I think I know why now. My mother — she died of pneumonia. Jarrod was the last to die, or maybe he lived. He fell through some ice, so I’m assuming He perished. Everyone else it was different things. We were nomads, so we were more vulnerable in ways.”

“Why were you nomads?”

He looks back towards you, and your mouth quirks up, “We were trying to avoid you,” you chuckle, realizing how stupid you had been. If you were always going to end up in his clutches, why run? Why allow yourself to waste away out there, becoming more weak. In here, you could fight back. “Seems pointless now.”

“Maybe that’s the way it was intended,” he swings open the door to a smaller more intimate dining area, waiting for you to enter first. He’s such a strange and difficult man. He’d almost be likable if it wasn’t his quick need to go completely feral with sexual comments.

You retreat into your mind as you think about the alternatives, weighing out the pros and cons of being here. With him. Who would you be if you decided to let destiny control your life? Could you kill Bucky? Would that end this stupid prophecy? Allow him to live long enough for winter to be over, and then kill him. That doesn’t sound like the worst idea. Not by a long shot.

“We should get some food in you. You need to gain weight,” for him to see if gaining weight would round you out enough for your first cycle. You’re not blind in his thinking. But if the food here is as good as it was the other night, it would be worth it.

You take a peek towards the king as he guides you through the icy gardens. It is unsettling. Frozen statues, and fountains. The trees are more of a shell than a living thing. Everything has a sharpness to it. Pointed lines where they should be soft and curved, instead now they had icicles growing off of them. Giving them a nearly demonic appearance.

Bucky walks quietly with you. His breathing constantly changes as he starts to say something to you, but then changes his mind. He’s been a bit strange since breakfast. Normally he never shuts up with his disgusting tongue, and now he can’t come up with the words to say.

“How did you remain chaste?” That didn’t last long. He seriously is a pig. “Especially when you were alone.”

“Do you think it was easy to not find company in a man?” His brows turn into hard lines as he stares at a frozen fountain. “You men are all the same. You can’t think straight when there’s warm flesh around you.”

“It sure beats the cold,” he mumbles more to himself, but you hear. You hear everything. “So you’ve never once thought about inviting some man into your tent with you?” You laugh, starting to walk away from him. He would open his mouth and ruin the somewhat nice morning.

“What’s so funny?”

“Sex has blinded you, Your Highness. You don’t think women are worth anything more than laying on their back, and taking your seed. Waiting for them to become round and full of you. Can you not look out here and see why that is the worst thing that you could possibly do? Why would I bring a child into this chaos of winter? Why would I allow myself the vulnerability to submit to some man.”

“You’d enjoy it,” you scoff, turning a corner, right into a frozen hedge maze. Sex could not be all that great, not when you had the consequences of raising a child in this cold hel. Bucky stays right on your heels. He breathes in deeply, and if you were a crazy person, you’d assume he was scenting you like a wild dog would. “Oh, you’d enjoy being on your knees as I fuck into your warmth. Your toes curling right as I hit that spot deep inside you that makes your eyes go cross, and your fingers can’t grab onto anything to steady you enough.”

“Just sex, hmm?” You’d heard that there is so much more than the physical activity of a man entering inside of you. You’d heard of men that feasted between a woman’s legs, while she goes outside of her body from blinding pleasure.

He snarls as he walks in front of you, sniffing up your body before you spin around and go down a different way in the maze. “What’s got you so riled up?” He spits out, but doesn’t follow you.

“Excuse me?” You ask, stopping to look over your shoulder. “What do you mean riled up?”

“I mean that your heart is speeding up,” you place a hand on your heart before you angrily walk faster. “That vein on your neck is pulsing just as quickly as the throb between your legs,” he didn’t know shit. He knew nothing about you.

“Oh, I see, you want romance. You don’t want to be the only one to submit. You want me down on my knees while I drink your essence. Have my tongue driving into your tight little hole before sucking on that pretty little clit,” you turn right, practically running to get away from him. “Would it be so bad to see me feasting on you like a starving wolf, while my eyes stare up at you like a helpless lamb?”

You wish he would shut up. He is clouding your brain and judgment, and you can’t think with his voice ringing in your ear. Turn left. Starting to pick up speed to get away from him, “I wouldn’t run if I were you.”

“Fuck you,” you flee. You run as fast as you can in these stupid skirts. Why were there so many layers? Why are you here alone? He could take you right here, right now, in this maze and nobody would be any the wiser. Left.

You peek over your shoulder, and see no one. Picking up your speed when you take another right. Running deeper and deeper into the center of the maze, and further from any exit or entrance. You need to be back in the castle. Back where there could be an audience, and they might stop Bucky. Away from him alone.

He’s wrong. “I’m not wrong, Lumi!” Fuck him. That was just luck. He had no idea what thoughts you had. You stop in the center of the maze, in a big round opening as you spin around. There are too many options on which way to go. It hurts your head to think about. Taking one step forward, Bucky lands in front of you like a wild man.

You cower backwards before ultimately falling on your ass. You hate him and his ability to humiliate you. “What are you doing?”

“You were going the wrong way,” you open your mouth to speak before he covers it. “If you say, ‘fuck you,’ again to me, I just might. Don’t tempt me. You’re a complete, and utter mess,” he lends you a hand, but you refuse it, and stand up on your own.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he circles around your body, his crystal eyes dark pools of lust. He bares his teeth as he sniffs you again.

“I can smell your pussy from here,” Bucky looks down at your body with the most devilish grin. “Don’t act like you don’t want me to rut into you like a dog. You’re quivering, slick, and swollen, and just so curious about what my cock will feel like in your cunt.”

“What would you know?” You ask him as he continues to circle around your body. A wolf playing with his food before he attacks. It’s haunting, and you try not to think about just how terrified you are.

“I know that you can try to deny who you’re destined to be. But you will fail. And you will let me mount you like the bitch in heat you are,” you glare at him, letting him walk around you again before he stands right in front of you. His stature towering over you.

“You’re disgusting,” you whisper, but his grin gets even more menacing.

“Yeah? Then what does that make you?” You didn’t fully understand what he meant by that comment. “I bet if I just settled my hand over you cunt, I could feel how hot you are. Aren’t you curious to know why your pussy is fluttering so much?”

Yeah, but you weren’t going to tell him that. “It’s who you were meant to be. Mine. Yeah, you’re making me completely feral with your refusal to mate with me. I’m going crazy here, smelling you, and feeling the vibrations off your pussy. You’re destined to be mine, and even your body knows that. It knows how amazing it will feel to have me buried so deep into you, there’s nothing that will separate us.”

He sniffs again, smiling when he looks down. You don’t know how he knows, or what it is he’s doing, but it hurts. There’s an ache so deep in your core that you squish your thighs together. Bouncing back and forth on your feet, and it offers you a little comfort. “What’s wrong princess? Is your body aching for friction?”

“Your words!” You scream, pushing at his chest, but he grabs your wrists, and pulls your body flush with his. “I hate you!” He settles your hand over his heart, and he’s just as hot and calm as ever. The beat steady, low, and barely there. He must be inhuman.

“Yes, while you’re heart is racing out of your chest, mine is soft. Are you jealous?” No. You’re infuriated that he has a hold of you. He flattens a hand on your chest, shushing you when he feels just how fast it is beating.

“I hate you,” you repeat. You hate him so much. You’re forced to be at his side for all eternity? Fuck that.

“I know you do, but I can offer you something that no one else ever has.”

“A cock? Several men have offered, and one even got his cut off,” Bucky’s maniacal chuckle echoes out into the icy garden before he bends his knee, and yanks you over his thigh. Hands on your hips he starts moving you over his leg, and you annoyingly sigh.

“Relief,” he’s such a cocky asshole, but this isn’t too bad. It’s quite nice, and you know you’re making yourself a fool in front of him, but this is the most relaxed you have ever felt. It’s the best you’ve ever felt as warmth builds up from the inside out. “Doesn’t that feel nice, Lumi?”

“Unfortunately,” he growls before he buries his face into your neck. His lips are so warm despite the frigid air outside. He softly kisses up your neck before nibbling right below your ear, and you whimper when he pierces the skin slightly. You claw at his arms to drive you harder over his extended leg. While it feels good, surely it could feel better.

“Now, imagine yourself sitting on my knee, facing me while I pinch those pretty little nipples of yours. Urging you to go harder and faster on my knee, while you make such a filthy mess of my leg. You’re such a desperate thing, in need of more pleasure than this. Your pent up energy has weakened you, and you don’t realize it it. Don’t you want that, princess? Don’t you want to feel this good all the time?”

“Uh huh,” idiot! Why did you whine and say that? You are stronger than the primal feeling burrowing into your gut, well, more like your pussy at this point. You have always fought this urge, and now you’re a blubbering idiot that can’t contain your pleasure. Chocolate is better than this. Okay, maybe not. But this is cruel. Sex is a basic instinct, and he’s using it against you.

“You’ll look so pretty swollen with my pups,” an odd name to call children. “Together we can end this dreadful winter.”

You have a duty to the world. You could end winter. You alone, well, and Bucky could end the suffering. Are you ready to relent? To give in to him? Him of all people? The world is spinning, and if this feels good, what would laying down with him feel like?

“Only if…” you begin, trying to catch your breath. Your voice is wrecked, and you can’t think clearly. You are not the whining girl that lays down with a man for protection. You have a duty. This man is ruining you, and your new clothes. “Ultimatum.”

He stops his movement, pushing you off his leg, and straightens himself up. You’re thankful a tiny bit about the halt, but you also whimper because you want to feel more. Cursing yourself for wanting to continue the movement.

“I’m listening,” he arrogantly says. You straighten out your skirts before standing up straight, and looking into his darkened eyes.

“No more whores,” he nods his head once. He’d been waiting on you to ask that of him, and he will gladly oblige. “We go at my pace, not yours.”

“You go very slow,” Bucky tsks. Time is of the essence. The world is blanketed in a blizzard, and you wanted to be romanced.

“We go at my pace!” It isn’t a yell, but you raise your voice enough. “And you make me fall for you.”

“Marriage isn’t about love, Lumi,” it could be. But maybe you didn’t possess the power to fall for him either.

Backwards thinking of the royals. “Is it purely about pleasure then?”

“It’s about expanding your family legacy. Not to mention ending this snow globe we’re in.”

“Fine. If you can’t make me fall for you, then you need to make me tolerate you enough. I won’t be disrespected by you. I won’t be just a slab of meat for you to fuck. I will be your equal. If both of us end this terrible winter, then I’m just as important as you are, and I’ll be treated as such,” he snarls, but nods his head. “And you can quit being so fucking cruel.”

“Is it cruel of me to give you some relief?” He thought he was being kind to you. You needed it. You need more.

“Cruel is showing my pussy off to your court. I don’t want that,” he smirks. You might have been slightly humiliated, but you also liked everyone staring at you as your king inspected you. “Cruel is smelling me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t smell so delicious. Your arousal is strong, and oh so sweet. You’re such a desperate little bitch that needs…” his fucking mouth!

“And can you quit talking like that? Ugh, you don’t make me want to fuck you, you repulse me when you call me a-a-a desperate little bitch.”

He chuckles, and nods his head. Is that so? “What’s so funny?”

“Because when I say it, and also when you say it, did you know that your heart rate peaks?” No it doesn’t. “It does. You’re curious. You want to know what it means. You want to not just take my cock, but also my,” he stops his words, and shakes his head. He walks right past you and back into the maze. His what?

“Well, lets go. It’s getting cold, and we have some sleeping arrangements to deal with.” We? “Yes, we. Your kennel can be put in my room, and maybe if you promise to behave, I’ll let you sleep in the bed with me.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Hmm,” he shrugs, taking a right into the maze. No, you’d rather be on his knee while he coaxes you through your first orgasm.

“What?” He’s frustring you. Know-it-all.

“Wouldn’t you like to know how good grinding on my thigh would be with your bare pussy?” Yes. No. Ugh! He’s obnoxious. “I know I would. I’d love to see just how wet you get.”

“You’re talking disgusting again,” you remind him. This is only going to work if he doesn’t have his foul mouth.

“How about I make a deal?” You’d prefer it if he didn’t. “I can talk filthy when it’s just us. You can say what you want, too, princess, and your scent is getting that much sweeter. You’re heating up so fucking much. It’s delicious. I think you need to get out of your head. Let me privately offer you some relief.”

“Only if I ask for it or you,” he doesn’t quite enjoy that thought. He’d much rather have you be putty in his hands. But you can handle him. His filthy mouth is annoying if not invigorating. But maybe you can tame the beast that resides inside him. But even your white wolf didn’t act like this. Bucky always seemed like he was in a need to rut.

“Am I allowed a pet?”

“No,” he answers shortly. “There are to be no animals in the castle. We’re struggling to feed our people. We don’t need another mouth to feed.”

Hmm, he says that, but the wolf always finds a way to you. Bucky will just have to deal, or you might feed him to your wolf.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

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[tteotlma]

Edge of Redemption

Logan’s life as a priest is built on a fragile foundation of faith and restraint. But then you appear—his greatest temptation, threatening to tear down everything he’s worked so hard to build. Salvation is within reach, but the closer he gets to you, the more he wonders if it’s worth the cost.

Priest!Logan x Reader (9.1k wc)

TW: 18+ MDNI; nsfw, religious blasphemy/sacrilege, priest/church employee relationship, power dynamics, age gap relationship, light choking/breath play, dubious consent themes, emotional manipulation, religious guilt/shame, light degradation, praise kink, explicit language, sexual tension, touch starvation, passionate/rough sex, semi-public intimacy, forbidden relationship, dom/sub themes, emotional vulnerability, morality crisis, internal conflict, power imbalance dynamics, religious conflict, mild degradation through religious themes, consensual acts with power dynamics, office/workplace setting intimacy a/n: this was supposed to be 1k words... and so many tags bc honestly i felt so... religiously guilty LOL but this concept has been on my mind FOREVER. Not beta'd so probs lots of mistakes/repetition. I wanted to do smth different so...

---

11/24/24 

Logan thought the church would cleanse him, that its walls would shelter him from the shadows he’d carried so long–but some sins were too hard to let go. The echoes of his past clung to him like a second skin, unyielding, no matter how many prayers he muttered or candles he lit. Every sermon, every hymn, every whispered confession felt like an act of penance, but the peace he sought remained just out of reach.

He had learned to take refuge in the routines, in the rhythm of prayer and scripture, as if repetition alone could dull the ache in his soul. The children’s laughter from the Sunday school classes brought moments of light, though even that felt like a reminder of all he’d never have—a life untainted by regret.

Then you arrived. 

A disruption he hadn’t anticipated, your presence was unassuming yet magnetic, your voice soft but firm as you led the children from their classroom to their parents. It was the first time in a long time Logan had noticed something—someone—beyond the weight of his own guilt. He told himself it was nothing. She was a teacher, a kind soul, and he was a man who had no right to be drawn to kindness.

But kindness, he found, had a way of reaching the places he had worked so hard to lock away. 

The first time you approached him, it was to ask about the church’s history. A notebook held close to your chest, a warm and unassuming smile. “Father Logan, I was hoping you could help me with something.”

He hesitated, his pulse quickening despite himself. “Of course. What do you need?”

You stepped closer, your presence filling the small space between the both of you. “The children were asking about the stained-glass windows—the stories they tell. I wanted to be sure I got it right before the next class.”

Logan glanced at the nearest window, its depiction of Saint Michael vivid in the afternoon light. He cleared his throat, forcing his focus to the question. “Saint Michael, the archangel,” he began, keeping his voice steady. “A symbol of divine protection. The sword he carries is meant to…” His voice faltered as you tilted your head, watching him with quiet attentiveness.

“Meant to what?” you asked softly.

“To strike down the forces of evil,” he finished, though the words felt hollow in his mouth. 

The conversation stayed with him long after you left, your notebook tucked under your arm and your footsteps fading into the quiet of the church. Logan stayed behind, lingering by the window watching your shadow disappear around the corner. 

——— 

This Sunday’s rain had come out of nowhere, a sudden deluge that hammered against the stained-glass windows and turned the world outside into a blur. Logan had stayed late, as he often did, finding solace in the quiet of the empty church. The flickering candlelight and the rhythm of the storm outside gave him a sense of calm he rarely found anywhere else.

He was about to extinguish the last of the candles when a faint noise caught his attention—a soft rustling sound coming from the far corner of the sanctuary. His brow furrowed as he moved toward the noise, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor.

And then he saw you. 

You were seated near the back of the church, a book in hand and papers spread out beside you. Your damp cardigan draped over the seat beside you. Your hair was slightly disheveled, as you indulged in your book, oblivious to his presence. 

“What are you doing here so late?” Logan’s voice broke the silence, low and steady but laced with curiosity. “Church let out hours ago.”

You startled, your bookmark slipping from your fingers as you looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Father Logan! I—I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He crossed his arms, his gaze softening as he took in your flustered expression. “You didn’t answer my question.”

You smiled sheepishly, closing the book in your hands. You gestured to the papers beside you, “I was trying to get a head start on next week’s lesson. The storm caught me off guard, and I figured I’d wait it out here instead of getting soaked.” 

Logan let out a soft sigh, shaking his head. “You know, most people would’ve taken the storm as a sign to go home.”

“Most people don’t have twenty kids asking them questions I don’t have answers to,” you countered, your smile growing as you tucked your bookmark between random pages. “Besides, it’s kind of nice here at night. Quiet. Peaceful.”

He leaned against the nearest pew, watching as you carefully toyed with the edges of the book. “It’s not safe for you to be out this late, especially with the weather like this.”

“I’ll be fine,” you said lightly, though the way you avoided his gaze told him you weren’t entirely convinced.

Logan frowned, the protective instinct he tried so hard to suppress flaring to life. “At least let me walk you to your car when the rain lets up. I don’t want you getting caught out there alone.” 

“It’s okay F-father, I’m not one for driving in the rain anyway.” You turned to look up at him, already finding him staring down at you. 

Logan didn’t look away, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. The way you said Father, like it was unfamiliar on your tongue, made something in him stir—a dangerous sometthing he had no business feeling. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus on the present.

“You’re planning to wait out the storm here, then?” he asked, his voice lower, quieter.

You gave a small shrug, your gaze dropping back to the notebook in your lap. “If that’s okay. It sounds like it might be letting up soon,” Lie. “It won’t be long if that’s okay.” You hug yourself and it’s then that Logan realizes your arms are bare, save for the thin straps holding your top up. 

Logan’s gaze followed your hands as you hugged yourself, the thin fabric of your top stretching over your arms. His eyes lingered, just for a moment too long, before he registered the goosebumps that had begun to rise on your skin. The soft glow of the candlelight flickered across your bare arms, highlighting the subtle tremor in your posture that unbeknownst to him had nothing to do with the storm.

He cursed under his breath, shifting uncomfortably where he stood. There was a small pang of guilt in his chest—this wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to notice. He wasn’t supposed to care.

But he did.

Logan cleared his throat, his voice rougher than usual. “You’re cold,” he stated, though it wasn’t really a question. It was a simple observation, but it hung in the air between you, thick with unspoken implications. His gaze flicked to the heavy downpour outside the stained glass windows, and then back to you, looking small and vulnerable in the dim light of the church. 

You gave a sheepish shrug, clearly not wanting to admit it. “I’m fine. Really.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, the protective instinct kicking in before he could stop it. “No, you’re not,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. 

He took a few steps toward you, his eyes scanning the room before settling on the door to his office. “I’ve got some coffee in my office. It’s warm, and it’ll help.”

Before you could protest, he was already moving toward the office, and without thinking, he added, “Come on. It’s not safe to stay out here for too long.”

You followed without much hesitation, the soft patter of the rain accompanying your steps as you entered his small, dimly lit office. The door clicked shut behind you, and the air inside was warmer, filled with the faint smell of coffee beans and old books.

Logan’s office was sparse but functional, with a small desk cluttered with papers, and a bookshelf lined with books, most of them theological texts, some old, some well-worn. It felt like a space where things—both literal and emotional—were tucked away, just as he liked it. But tonight, with you standing just a few feet away, the room felt different.

He motioned to the plush velvet chair in the corner of his office, his back turned as he prepared the coffee. “Have a seat,” he said, his voice softer now, but still edged with that familiar tension. "I’ll make it quick."

You settled into the chair, and Logan noticed how you kept your arms tightly crossed over your chest. His gaze flickered over to the window, the rain still relentless outside, though now it felt like a distant background to the simmering awareness between you two.

The sound of the coffee pot bubbling was the only noise for a few moments, and Logan’s mind wandered against his will. He tried not to let his thoughts drift to the way you had looked at him earlier, the softness in your eyes that made him forget himself for a second. The way your voice had caught when you said Father, the hesitation he’d caught there. It was the smallest thing, but it gnawed at him.

He cleared his throat and handed you the mug, the warmth of it radiating through his hand as he held it out to you. “Here.”

You took it, your fingers brushing his briefly, and for the briefest of moments, Logan felt something pulse beneath his skin—a flicker of heat that wasn’t just from the coffee.

“Thank you,” you said softly, lifting the mug to your lips. The warmth seemed to bring some color back to your face, and you looked up at him again. “I didn’t expect to be stuck here this late.”

He nodded, his arms crossed over his chest now, posture tense, as if trying to keep himself contained. “I know. But the storm…” He trailed off, his gaze flickering back to the window yet again, though he wasn’t really looking at it anymore.

You took a sip of the coffee, the warmth spreading through your chest, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the slight tension that had settled between you. “I should’ve left earlier, but I didn’t want to risk driving in this. And I wanted to get ahead…” You trailed off, your voice suddenly quieter, almost apologetic.

Logan's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze flickering from the window back to you. He noticed the way you hesitated, the subtle shift in your posture as if you were choosing your words carefully. The air between you two felt heavier now, a quiet pulse of unspoken things that neither of you were acknowledging outright.

“You wanted to get ahead?” Logan asked, his voice low but gentle, as if he were trying to coax you into sharing.

You nodded, your eyes not meeting his as you took another sip of coffee. “Yeah. For next week. I’ve got so much to prepare for with the kids, and I didn’t want to fall behind. They deserve more than half-effort.” You paused, a flicker of self-doubt crossing your features before you continued, “And, well, during the week... I’m usually too busy.”

Logan didn’t know why, but hearing you speak so earnestly, so committed to your work, made something stir in him. He’d seen a lot of people come and go in this church, but there was something about you that made him feel like he was seeing the world through a new lens. Something soft, something untainted.

"That's admirable," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You care a lot about them."

Your eyes met his at that, and for a brief moment, there was something like understanding shared between you two. A connection neither of you had planned on, but one that was impossible to ignore.

The quiet was starting to feel uncomfortable now, like something was building, and neither of you knew exactly how to handle it. Logan, never one to let things fester too long, cleared his throat again, stepping away from his desk to give you a little space. 

“Father Logan,” you asked, staring at the pattern on your silk skirt, your voice soft but with a trace of curiosity, “I was wondering… when we speak of sin and redemption, how do we know when we’ve truly atoned? Is there a moment when the weight finally lifts, or is it something we just carry forever?”

Logan blinked, the question taking him by surprise. He had expected something simpler—maybe a question about the liturgy, or the history of a saint—but this was different. It was deep, personal, something that touched the core of who he was.

He stood still for a moment, unsure how to answer. There were words, sure, but they all felt empty, hollow. Redemption wasn’t something you could define so easily, not when you were so steeped in your own sins.

But before he could find a way to respond, you continued.

“I’ve always wondered about it,” you said, your tone almost hesitant, as if you were unsure if you should ask at all. “Do you ever feel like it’s impossible? Like no matter how hard you try, you can’t truly be... free?”

The question hung in the air between you, thick and heavy. It felt like you were both asking something deeper than what had been spoken.

Logan’s gaze softened, but he didn’t know how to answer yet. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and turned toward the stack of books near the desk.

“Well,” he began, “I don’t know if there’s a clear answer to that. But… maybe there’s something in one of the texts that could give a little more insight.”

He moved toward the pile of books atop the bookshelf beside you, where his most worn ones were stacked. “Just give me a second,” he muttered, crouching down to search through the shelf.

As Logan knelt beside you, his focus shifted to finding the right book, his hand brushing against the spines of the leather-bound volumes. There was something in the way you watched him, quiet and patient, that made the simple act of reaching for a book feel far more intimate than it had any right to.

Finally, he pulled one free, and with a quiet sigh, he straightened his back, holding the thick tome carefully in his hands.

“The answer may be in here,” Logan said, turning back toward you.

Logan shifted the heavy book in his hands, glancing at the faint text on the cover. The storm outside had cast the room in shadows, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside the rain-streaked window. He let out a soft sigh, realizing he couldn’t read a word.

“It’s too dark,” he murmured, his gaze flicking to the small lamp perched on the side table next to the chair you were sitting in. His brow furrowed slightly as he assessed the space.

Without thinking too much about it, Logan leaned forward, the weight of his body shifting slightly closer to yours.

“I’ll turn this on,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant.

He reached across you, his chest brushing lightly against your knees where they were flush against the velvet cushion. The nearness made your breath hitch, and you froze, your eyes flickering to his face as he leaned in further.

Logan was suddenly hyperaware of how close he was to you—closer than he’d been to anyone in years. The faint scent of your perfume mixed with the rain lingered in the air between you, soft and utterly disarming. He could hear your shallow breath, could feel the heat radiating off your skin as his fingers found the switch on the lamp.

The quiet click of the lamp filled the silence, and a soft, warm light illuminated the room. Logan didn’t pull back right away. His hand lingered on the lamp’s base for a second too long, his head tilted slightly toward you but he still didn’t dare make eye contact, your faces just inches apart now.

When he finally shifted, his gaze flickered down, catching the way your lips parted as if you were about to say something. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t bring himself to step away as quickly as he should have.

The air felt heavier now, charged with something neither of you could name. His throat tightened as he swallowed hard, his pulse drumming in his ears. The coffee mug in your hands suddenly felt scorching, but you clutched it tighter, hoping the pain could anchor you to reality.

“Sorry,” Logan murmured, his voice rough as he pulled back slightly, though not enough to fully retreat. His knees remained firmly planted beside your chair, and the way his presence loomed made it impossible to look anywhere but at him.

The soft glow of the lamp cast shadows across his sharp features, making his eyes seem darker, more intense, as they searched yours for something he didn’t dare to name. 

He cleared his throat and let out a shaky breath and, without meaning to, his voice dipped lower. “Freedom… it's a tricky thing,” he murmured. “We all want it, think we can earn it. But sometimes, it feels like we're just running in circles. We try to shake the past, but it stays with us—like a shadow that never fades.”

Heat crawled down your neck as his eyes searched yours, searching for some understanding, as if the weight of his words could somehow make it easier to admit the truth. 

“You ask if it’s impossible,” Logan continued, his voice quieter now, the storm outside still raging. “The thing is… it's not about whether it's impossible. It's about the fact that sometimes, we crave the things that keep us trapped. We want freedom, but part of us still holds on to the chains we know.”

His gaze finally dropped to the book in his hand, fingers tightening around the leather binding. “The hardest struggle isn’t denying what we know is wrong. It’s living with the knowledge that sometimes, what we crave most feels impossibly, painfully right. And that’s the test. Can we break free from that?”

There was a long pause, the room thick with the weight of his words. Logan turned the book in his hands slightly, his eyes lingering on the pages but his mind clearly elsewhere. The connection between the two of you now felt more palpable than ever. There was a shift in the air—a change, as if the weight of his words had unlocked something in you.

You held your breath, unsure if you should speak, but the tension in the room was almost unbearable. His gaze was so intense, like he was waiting for something, and in that moment, you realized you were, too.

"Sometimes," you began, your voice quiet but steady, "it feels like the harder we try to let go, the more we get pulled in. Like we're just meant to repeat the same cycle."

Logan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, his gaze flicking to yours for the briefest of moments. His lips parted as if he was about to speak, but he held back.

It was strange, almost like he didn’t want to say anything that would break the fragile balance that had settled between you both. And yet, there was something about your words—their softness, the unspoken meaning behind them—that seemed to strike him more than you anticipated.

You shifted in your seat slightly, aware of how close he’s been, the air between you thick with unspoken understanding.

"It’s like we're doomed to always want what we shouldn’t," you continued, the words slipping out before you could stop them, your voice tinged with an emotion you hadn’t fully grasped. "Maybe that’s the only thing that’s really free... the craving."

Logan's jaw tightened slightly, his eyes narrowing just a fraction, but his expression betrayed nothing. He took in your words, his gaze unwavering, but for the first time since you’d started speaking, something flickered behind his eyes—something raw, something just as vulnerable as your admission.

You hadn’t meant it like that. You hadn’t meant to give voice to that desire, to hint at something deeper. But Logan... Logan heard it.

And when he opened his mouth, the words came out more hoarse than he intended.

"You’re right," he said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. "Craving’s the only thing that feels like freedom sometimes... but it's also the thing that keeps us from it." He paused, eyes lingering on yours with a sharpness that made your heart skip a beat. “And maybe that’s where we get stuck.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the low hum of the storm outside and the sound of your breath mingling in the charged space. It was as if everything hung on the edge of his next words, like both of you were waiting to see what would break the stillness.

You couldn’t look away. Not now. Not when the air between you was so thick with the things you hadn’t dared to say.

There was a softness in his gaze now, something like an invitation—something you couldn’t quite place, but it made your pulse quicken all the same.

For a second, it felt like the space between you had narrowed to nothing, the tension unspoken but alive, and then Logan’s voice broke through again, quieter than before.

“Sometimes it’s not about breaking free,” he murmured, his lips close enough for you to feel the heat in his words. “Sometimes it’s about giving in. To what we crave, what we need.”

You swallowed, your breath coming faster now, realizing just how close he was—how close you were to crossing a line neither of you had dared to touch. And when you met his gaze again, there was a question there. A challenge, almost, like he was daring you to acknowledge it. 

You shifted in your seat a smidge, knees brushing against his chest again. Logan looks down at your fingers pinching the fabric of your skirt between your fingers. You lean in close. 

“Tell me father, do you think the sweetest part of surrender is giving in, or the release that follows?” 

You could hear Logan's jaw clench as you leaned back to look him in the eyes. 

The room seemed to hold its breath, the storm outside a distant roar compared to the thunderous pulse of tension between you. Logan’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something predatory flashing across his face before his expression smoothed into something unreadable. His hand, still gripping the book, trembled slightly as if he was barely keeping himself in check.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a challenge. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the space between you now almost unbearable. His gaze lingered on your lips, then your eyes, before returning to the fabric of your skirt, where your fingers still toyed with the fabric.

His voice, when it came, was rough, almost a whisper. "It’s the release that makes everything make sense," he murmured, his gaze piercing as he leaned just a fraction closer, his breath ghosting across your skin. "But the act of giving in... that’s where we find out just how far we’re willing to go."

Your heart hammered in your chest, and despite the intensity, there was something in his words, in the way he spoke them, that felt like an invitation—like the first step toward something neither of you could take back. Logan’s eyes locked with yours again, this time with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

"You want to know what’s sweetest, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice lowering to a gravelly growl, his hand finally moving from the book to rest just a breath away from your skin. "It’s the release... but only after you’ve let go completely. That’s when it’s real." 

You barely had time to register his words before Logan's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your throat with a force that made your pulse spike. It was a gentle pressure, but it was enough to send a jolt of heat through your body, your breath hitching as his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that was anything but soft. 

His lips were frantic, almost demanding as he lapped at the inside of your mouth,  as though he could taste the tension between you both and needed to consume it, to devour it whole. The pressure on your throat was intoxicating, just enough to make everything else fade into the background—just the weight of his hand, the heat of his mouth on yours, the way your body instinctively leaned into him, unable to resist. 

You couldn’t help but whine when he deepened the kiss, his thumb brushing over your pulse, sending electric shivers down your spine. The world outside, the storm, the heavy air—everything else seemed to dissolve, leaving only the rawness of the moment, the undeniable connection that had built between you both. 

Logan pulled back, his breath heavy, but his hands didn’t leave you completely. His fingers grazed your throat before sliding to your cheek, his touch softer now, almost apologetic. His gaze flickered for a moment, conflicted, before he let out a low, frustrated exhale discarding the book.

"Shit, sorry," he muttered, his voice rough, the usual controlled demeanor slipping. "I don’t usually—"

He trailed off, his words fading as if he was still trying to make sense of the rush of emotion that had overtaken him. For a heartbeat, you thought he might pull away entirely, the weight of his apology making him retreat. But before you could second-guess, you grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

Logan didn’t resist. Instead, his lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I’ve wanted you," he admitted in a low whisper, the rawness of his voice making your heart race. "Since the moment I saw you, I’ve wanted nothing more than to have you." His now empty hand lightly ghosted your calf, running the back of his finger up and down your smooth skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"But the church... it’s taught me something, hasn’t it?" he continued, his voice lowering almost to a murmur, as if he was wrestling with a deeper truth. "It’s not just about following every rule or duty.” His finger trailed higher, his thumb caressing your knee, then teasing the sensitive skin where your leg bent.

“There’s a passage in Ecclesiastes that says, ‘To everything, there is a season.’” He spoke with a quiet intensity, his words lingering in the air like a weight neither of you could ignore. “Sometimes, you don’t wait for permission. If something’s right in front of you, you don’t hesitate—you take it. You don’t wait for the world to tell you when the time is right.”

His fingers pressed deeper into your skin, the subtle pressure sending a rush of heat through you. Then, his palm splayed across your thigh, squeezing the tender meat with a possessiveness that left no room for doubt. The touch was slow, deliberate, as though he was marking his territory, claiming what had always been his. The air between you both thickened, each word and touch drawing you closer to the point of no return. 

He pressed his lips to your neck, his breath hot against your skin, the words heavy with the weight of his need. "And right now," he murmured, his fingers curling into your skin, tightening as though he couldn't hold back any longer, "I’m done waiting." 

With that, his grip on your thigh tightened, drawing a soft whine from your lips. The hand that had been caressing your cheek slid to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he pulled you into another heated kiss. Your fingers instinctively clenched tighter around the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer, as though the space between you was too much to bear.

Once he felt you leaning into the kiss, his hand then trailed a slow, deliberate path down your body, grazing your curves until it reached your ankle. Then, just as slowly, it traveled back up the unoccupied side of your body, his touch sending waves of heat through you as his fingers slid beneath the thin fabric of your skirt.

One of your hands came to rest on his, the warmth of his palm searing your skin as he kneaded the soft flesh of your thigh. You let out a breathy sigh, and he responded with a low, gravelly groan, the sound vibrating against your lips.

Your fingernails grazed the nape of his neck, drawing him closer as you leaned back into the seat. He followed without hesitation, his weight pressing against you, grounding you, yet setting your pulse racing. Instinctively, your legs shifted, parting to let him settle between them, the growing heat between you thick with tension that begged for release.

His hands gave your thighs a final, firm squeeze, sending a shiver rippling through you before they began their slow descent down your legs to your ankle. His thumbs hooked under the edge of your skirt, the fabric gathering in his hands as he teased it higher, exposing more of your skin inch by inch. For a fleeting moment, his lips left yours, leaving you gasping softly at the sudden loss of contact, your body craving the return of his warmth.

Logan’s gaze fell to your lips, now swollen and parted, his own hovering close as though he couldn’t bear to pull away completely. He leaned in again, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth in a gentle nip, tugging just enough to send a jolt of heat coursing through you. When he finally eased back, his eyes dropped lower, dark with a hunger that made your breath hitch. His chest rose and fell heavier now, his focus riveted to your legs as they shifted, parting wider in silent invitation.

Your body acted on instinct, your knees lifting to bracket his hips, pulling him closer as his hands found the heat of your thighs. His fingers slid beneath the soft skin, pushing your skirt higher with deliberate, torturous slowness. When the edge of the fabric reached just shy of exposing your underwear, he stopped, his grip tightening on your thighs as though anchoring himself. His gaze flicked back to yours, the weight of his restraint palpable, even as his dark eyes betrayed just how close he was to losing it entirely.

His voice came out rough, low, barely more than a whisper, his hand faltering for a moment as the fabric inched higher.

"You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me. This... I shouldn’t even be thinkin’ about it, let alone..."

His words trailed off as your underwear came into view, the soft lace hugging your curves in a way that made his breath stutter. He let out a low, guttural noise, his fingers flexing against your thighs.

"Christ, sweetheart... you’re gonna ruin me."

His hands moved with purpose now, sliding higher until they engulfed the swell of your ass, his palms kneading the soft flesh as though he could no longer help himself. With a single, deliberate push, he bunched the fabric of your skirt around your waist, his thumbs brushing down to press against the delicate bows resting on your hips.

His thumbs were toying with the fragile bows at your hips, brushing against the lace that barely concealed you. Your breath hitched, and you swore you felt him tremble against you, the tension in his body wound so tightly it was as if he might snap at any moment.

Logan let out a shaky breath, one hand sliding up your back pushing the fabric of your top exposing a small sliver of your back, kneading your flesh with both hands like he was memorizing every inch. "I swore I wouldn’t... I told myself I’d keep my hands off you," he admitted, his tone strained, like he was confessing a sin. "But everytime you walk in here lookin’ like that, sittin’ there all sweet... and then this—"

His thumb scraped the lace, grazing your skin so lightly it was almost unbearable. A moan catches in your throat, his jaw clenching, as he let out a frustrated growl, his hand gripping the meat of your thigh like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"This is wrong," he muttered, though his actions betrayed his words as he pushed you upward towards him, until his lips found the curve of your jaw, trailing fire down to your throat. "But, God help me, I don’t think I care anymore."

You whimpered softly as his teeth scraped against your pulse, his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin as his fingers explored, teasing along the edge of your underwear.

"I should stop," Logan said, his voice rough and filled with conflict, even as his hand tightened on your hip. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and clouded with want. "Tell me to stop. Tell me to walk away, and I’ll do it."

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Instead, your hands shakily slid up to cradle his face, your thumbs brushing over his rough stubble as you pulled him in close, pausing just before your lips touched. Barely brushing together, you breathed in each other’s air, trying to catch your breath but only becoming dizzier. “F-father, please,” you murmured against his lips, the words barely audible but carrying all the certainty he needed.

Logan’s eyes darkened even further, and he swallowed hard, his breath shaky as his hands came up to cup your face. “Who am I to deny help to someone in need?” he murmured, almost to himself, as if trying to convince himself this was justified. “It’s my duty, isn’t it? To guide... to offer support... even when it’s hard.” He pulls you closer to his hips. 

You nodded more enthusiastically than you intended, your body shivering with anticipation. Your lower stomach burned with arousal, the need to feel him building with each second. The cold air of the office contrasted with the slick warmth between your legs, a sensation that desperately needed to be satiated.

The shift in your posture, the way your body responded to him, was all the confirmation he needed. His gaze flicked between your lips and your eyes, his jaw tightening as he leaned in to capture your lips yet again in another heated kiss. 

He nipped and licked at your lips, the soft pressure of his teeth sending a jolt of heat straight through you. His breath mingled with yours, slow and deliberate, as if he were savoring the moment, tasting the very air between you. Then, with a groan, his tongue traced the edge of your bottom lip before slipping inside, exploring the warmth of your mouth.

Your body responded instinctively, lips parting to welcome him, your tongue meeting his in a slow, teasing dance. Every movement was deliberate, an exploration, a taste, and yet it felt like he was trying to draw you deeper into him with each brush of his tongue against yours. The warmth of his mouth, the way he gently pulled you closer, ignited a desperate ache between your thighs.

You whimpered softly as his hand slid down your back, fingers splayed to press you further into him. His hips pressed into yours, hard and unmistakable, the evidence of his desire undeniable. You felt the heat of his body, the burn of his touch, every nerve on edge, every inch of your skin on fire.

His kiss deepened, more urgent now, as if the need to consume you, to claim you, was taking over. He tilted your head just slightly, deepening the angle, and his tongue moved more aggressively, exploring with a hunger that matched the pounding of your heart. Every time he pulled back, the slight break in the kiss only heightened your yearning, the cool air rushing in before his lips found yours again, harder, more demanding. 

With a small groan, Logan pulled away and it was then you realized he had unzipped his pants and set his cock free, painfully strained as it lightly grazed the inside of your thigh. Each time he huffed a heavy breath you could feel the heat emanating from his cock atop your soaked folds. 

You began squirming beneath him, the anticipation becoming unbearable. You tried to lift your hips, desperate to meet him, to feel some kind of relief, but his grip on your knees was unyielding, anchoring you in place. Small whines escaped your throat, breathless and needy, as you wriggled beneath him, trying to close your legs, raise your hips, anything to alleviate the ache.

“S-sweetheart—” His voice faltered, thick with restraint, and your movements came to a sudden halt. You froze, looking up at him through hazy, half-lidded eyes, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You were intoxicated, drowning in the heat between you, his presence suffocating in the best possible way.

His hands tightened around your knees, his fingers digging into your skin as if trying to hold himself together, to maintain some semblance of control. His eyes flicked down to where your body was reacting to him, your legs attempting to press tightly together, your hips still instinctively shifting. His gaze darkened, swallowing thickly as his breath hitched.

"God help me," Logan muttered under his breath, as if asking for forgiveness, but his voice was raw with something far less holy. “Fuuuck–” He breathed out when he finally allowed himself to touch you. 

Years of only having his hand as company, mixed with months of pining after you made him feel more adolescent as he had hoped. His body lurched violently forward as one hand grasped at the armrest and the other at your groin, as he slid his thick cock against your silk covered folds, the fabric immediately glossing over with your slick. His hips picked up their pace, almost involuntarily with how wet the both of you were, he was desperate for friction. 

You throw your head back in frustration, the mix of need and restraint between the two of you creating an almost unbearable tension. Your movements become more erratic as you try to help, attempting to rock your hips against him, but the uncoordinated motions from both of you do little to satisfy the ache in your stomach. The lack of control between you only intensifies the frustration, the heat building without any relief.

Logan’s breath hitches, his jaw clenching as he watches your desperate movements. A shameful growl rumbles in his chest, and without warning, his hand on the armrest moves to your throat. His thumb presses against the side of your pulse, feeling the frantic rhythm beneath his touch, while his fingers tighten around your neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to still you.

The pressure on your throat forces your movements to slow, your breath coming out in shaky gasps as his grip reminds you of his dominance. His hooded and hazy eyes darken, filled with an intense mixture of restraint and something far more primal. 

“Stay still sweetheart,” His chest heaves. “I promise, I’ll give you everything you want.” The hand not on your throat moves between your legs and pushes his cock down against your drenched pussy. Your thighs spread impossibly further as the pressure on your clit increases. Small moans leave your lips each time the tip of Logan’s cock halts beneath the swell of your clit each thrust harder than before. 

It isn’t until he fists the base of his shaft, where he lines the drooling tip of his cock with your seemingly tight entrance through the flooded fabric of your panties. It’s obvious he enjoys teasing you, and restraining himself. He slowly pushed his hips forward, guiding the head of his dick past your entrance watching as his precum beads against the pink fabric the deeper he buried. 

You threw your head back in both frustration and ecstasy. Relishing in the way his thick head stretched your pulsing entrance. A loud moan ripping its way through your throat but stopping short when Logan’s hand clenched tighter around your neck. 

He let out a feral grunt, as he tried to sink further into your tight hole not yet able to bury himself completely. 

"God, sweetheart... you feel so damn good, like I’m finally touching heaven." He pulls his hips back, his breath ragged. "But I can’t... I can't let myself get lost in this. You deserve better than... than whatever this is."

Despite being pinned against the seat by his grip on your throat, your heart races with the fear that he might pull away. Your hand reaches out, grabbing for the arm that’s keeping you still, your fingers scrambling desperately for purchase. The other moves to grasp his shirt, fingertips tugging at the fabric as if you could pull him back, keep him close.

"Please," you gasp, the word slipping from your lips before you can stop it. "D-don’t pull away." Your body arches instinctively, aching for more of the pleasure he’s been withholding—the sensation just barely within your grasp. Logan doesn’t say anything in response, his eyes heavy and focused as he watches you squirm beneath him, his silence more consuming than any words could be.

The hand around your throat loosens, his fingers shifting to the back of your neck, and in that instant, the air between you changes. His touch softens briefly, but then his eyes darken again, a storm of desire and restraint fighting for dominance. He leans in closer, and you don’t hesitate—you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him in as your hips lift to meet him, desperate for more, for release. Your lips part as small cries escape, mingling with needy whispers for him.

"How can I say no when this angel sent from heaven begs me so nicely?" Logan’s voice is thick with disbelief, as though he’s trying to convince himself that this isn’t happening. His lips press against your neck, nipping and kissing, while his hips grind against yours—slow and purposeful. But there’s an edge to his movements now, a crack in his control.

Suddenly, the tension breaks.

"Fuck it," Logan growls, the words a harsh release of everything he’s been holding back. His hands grip you tighter, pulling you to him with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. "I can’t hold back, sweetheart." His voice is low, gravelly, as his hips slam forward, no longer restrained, no longer holding back.

“Oh,” You gasp as his hips drive in and out of you."M-more–" The cry tears from your throat as you clutch at his back. He finally gave in, but it wasn't enough. His grunts in your ear and stuttering hips tell you he needs more too. 

"P-please father L-Logan," you whisper, overwhelmed by sensation, hands desperately searching for anchor. Your fingers tangle in his hair. 

He's lost in you now, consumed by your body beneath his, the taste of your skin, the sound of your breath. There's no more hesitation or restraint. Logan surrenders to his primal need for you, every shred of self-control abandoned. When his lips crash onto yours, it's fierce—pure, raw desire with no trace of softness.

You whine into his mouth and he eats every sound like it’s his last meal. He grabs you at the bend of your knee, holding your leg up as he uses his other hand to hold your thighs open as he rams into harder. The fabric of your soaked panties pulling taut against your entrance each time he thrust back into your heat. 

“More, more–” You cried out, when he gave one particularly hard thrust and rather than burrowing himself deep inside you, to both your dismay he instead rubbed against your folds. You sobbed in frustration. 

“P-please,” you plead, your voice trembling as you pull his head against your chest, desperation lacing every syllable. “I’m a good girl, Father Logan, I-I…” Your words falter as tears begin to spill from the corners of your eyes, slipping down your flushed cheeks.

Logan pulls away and freezes at the sight, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he can’t look away from the way you’ve unraveled beneath him—the way your body trembles, how your tears glisten in the dim light, and the broken pleas falling from your lips. His chest tightens with a dangerous mix of pride and guilt, the weight of what he’s done settling heavily on him.

"Aw, sweetheart..." he murmurs, his voice softer now, the rough edges dulled by an unfamiliar tenderness. He tilts his head, pressing his lips to your damp cheek, tasting the salt of your tears as he whispers, "Don't cry." His thumb gently brushes away a tear. "I've got you now. I'm sorry for makin' you wait so long."

His lips move to yours, soft and deliberate, a kiss that holds both apology and promise. As he adjusts, his hands steady themselves, sliding to your hips. His fingers find the edge of your underwear, and with a careful, almost reverent touch, he moves the fabric aside. 

Without breaking the kiss he guides his throbbing cock to your entrance, and his hips twitch forward. You cry out, but his tongue muffles your sounds. He grabs the tops of your thighs, gripping them hard enough to know marks will be there tomorrow. 

“Oh, God.” He comes to his full height when he pulls you to the edge of the seat, his hips make sharp contact with the back of your thighs and Logan pulls you impossibly close. 

“Hnn…ah!” You mewled, your body constricted, overwhelmed with the new sensation of being filled to the brim. “Father…” You reached between your legs to try and push him back but he grabs your wrists, holding your palms flush against the heat of his happy trail. Your fingers clench, yanking at the hair between your fingers, and he lets out a low chuckle. His hips jerk. 

“I was tryna take this slow, sweetheart.” He tries to bury himself deeper, and you moan at the delicious pain of being stretched.

“Ahh…” He lets out a devious chuckle as he feels you throb around him. “But now that you’re squeezing me so tight, princess, I don’t think I can.” He snaps his hips forward, and a breathy sigh of pleasure escapes his lips as his tip hits the pulsing wall of your arousal.

A cry rips from your throat as he pulls back from the hilt, his movements slow and deliberate, dragging against every sensitive inch of you. The emptiness is brief but unbearable, a plea spilling from your lips before he slams back into you, harder this time, his rhythm becoming punishingly deliberate.

"You’re somethin’ sacred," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, his hands trembling as they grip you tighter, holding you as if you might slip away. "And me? I’m a man still chained to the things I’ve done. I don’t know why God would give me you... not when I ain’t even begun to earn forgiveness."

His words hang heavy in the air, a confession borne of guilt and reverence as his thrusts grow deeper, more desperate. It’s as though he’s pouring all his contradictions—his desire, his regret, his unworthiness—into every movement, every touch.

“Yet here you are,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips brushing against your neck between ragged breaths. “Like a gift I don’t deserve, like somethin’ holy, and I…”

Between your moans, your hand wriggles free from his grasp, trembling fingers reaching up to press gently over his mouth. His words falter as his eyes meet yours, dark and brimming with emotion.

“Don’t,” you whisper, your voice shaky but firm. “Don’t overthink it. Just… just feel me.” You arch your back and thrust your hips to meet his movements, a quiet gasp slipping from your lips at the raw intensity of the connection between you.

His breath hitches against your palm, the tension in his body melting as if your words have unraveled something deep inside him. Slowly, his lips part, and he kisses the tips of your fingers reverently, like an unspoken promise—a vow to let go, to give in. 

His grip on your hips tightens, his pace quickening as he loses himself in you completely, every thrust a declaration of everything he’s too afraid to say aloud. His lips trail down the curve of your wrist, his body trembling as you murmur mantras. 

“Yes, yes, yes–” Each cry ripped from your throat, every time his cock stuffed you full. “Oh God, yes.” You yelled, as his pace became violent. 

Logan’s pace grows more frantic, each thrust a calculated mix of dominance and desperation. His breath is heavy, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the space between you, your cries echoing through the room.

But as your body trembles beneath him, he suddenly slows, pulling back just enough to make you gasp. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense. “I’m not close to God,” he growls, his voice rough with lust and something else—something conflicted. “Never have been. I don’t deserve a fucking angel like you… but damn if I’m not enjoying every moment of this.”

A twisted smirk curls on his lips as he watches your expression shift, the heat of his touch still burning against your skin. “Say it. Say ‘Father Logan,’” he demands, his hands gripping you harder. “Tell me you can feel the guilt, the sin in every fucking inch of me. Say it.”

You moan softly as his grip tightens, your body arching beneath him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the heat between you intensifies. Despite the sinful nature of his words, the way his voice trembles with need makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I– Father Logan,” you gasp, the words slipping from your lips in a mixture of pleasure and desperation, the name falling so easily from your mouth, like it’s the only thing that feels right in that moment.

Logan’s smirk deepens, but there's a trace of something more in his eyes—something raw and uncontrollable. He presses in harder, his pace picking up again, each thrust making you cry out as he fills you completely. His lips brush against your ear, and he lets out a low, satisfied chuckle.

“Damn right, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “You’ve got no idea how much I love hearing that. It makes this… all of it feel real.” He leans down to kiss you roughly, his hands pushing you further into the mattress as he continues his relentless rhythm. "I’m so fucking far from anything holy, but you make me feel... like maybe I can be something good for you. Just for you."

The tension builds again, making every thrust deeper, harder, a wild mix of passion and pain as he drives you both toward something inevitable. He holds you close, his breath hot against your skin, his name—a prayer and a sin—escaping from your lips with each frantic cry.

“Come on princess, I know you’re burning up down here.” His heavy hand presses down on your stomach, and you sob. He was nowhere near wrong, waves of heat ran from the tips of your toes, to the center of your core. 

“I know you’re close ‘cause I’m close.” He holds your hips as he comes back up to his full height, lifting you with him as he rests his knee on the edge of the seat. The new position allows him to somehow hit deeper at a different angle and that’s all it takes to make your vision fade, and see white light. 

Your body shakes violently as the coils in your stomach finally unravel, a string of curses leave your lips, as your hips jerk violently. Logan still chasing his release. 

“Oh fuck,” Logan chokes out in a low, gravelly tone, his voice rough with need. His hands grip your hips tighter, his pace never slowing, even as you tremble beneath him. 

He pants, his words barely coherent as his thrusts become more urgent. “You’re like a fucking blessing I don’t deserve, but I can’t stop, can’t pull away—" He groans as he feels you pulse around him, coming down from your high. "God, you’re like heaven wrapped in skin.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He continues to pound into you, the newly released heat rebuilding the more Logan drove into you. 

“F-father, I’m gonna– I can’t–” Tears spill from your eyes again, but this time Logan doesn’t wipe them away. 

“Shh, you’re such a good girl,” His hands wrap around your throat as ripples of pleasure pinch at his nerves, “A goddamn angel.” And he squeezes his hands, hips coming to a halt as his cock pulses inside of you.

As he fills you with thick and heavy strings of his load, another orgasm splits your mind in half and your mind goes blank as you cry out for Logan. 

“Ah, fuuck…” He sighs as he hesitantly pulls out. You whimper as he watches you clench around nothing. He picks you up with no problem at all and he switches positions, having you sit on his lap. 

You can feel slick dripping from your abused cunt, and you attempt to move worried about ruining the man’s pants. 

"Let go," he breathes, keeping you firmly in his lap despite your squirming. His fingers dig into your hips possessively. "Want to feel what I've done to you." You whimper as he captures your lips in a deep kiss, still oversensitive from before. His hands roam your body with renewed hunger, like he can't get enough. Your body trembles as his fingers trace your spine, stopping to knead your ass. 

"Heaven sent," he murmurs against your lips, breaking the kiss to admire the marks he's left. When you try to look away, shy under his heated gaze, he gently turns your face back to his. "Look at me, angel." His eyes hold yours, dark with lingering desire and something deeper. His thumb brushes your cheek tenderly, a stark contrast to his earlier roughness. You both know this moment has changed everything between you, crossing a line that can't be uncrossed. But as he pulls you closer, neither of you can bring yourselves to regret it.

--

a/n: pls support by reblogging.

[i2rizz]

We Fell In Love in October

Fandom: Blue lock

Characters: Chigiri x reader

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The crisp autumn air nipped at your cheeks as you walked through the park, the leaves crunching under your boots. The world was painted in hues of red, orange, and gold, and despite the chill in the air, you felt warm. Maybe it was the way the sun filtered through the trees, casting everything in a golden glow. Or maybe it was the way Chigiri Hyoma walked beside you, his hand brushing yours with every step.

You glanced at him, your heart fluttering when you caught him smiling softly at the trees overhead. His long, red-pinkish hair fell in waves over his shoulders, catching the light like something out of a dream.

“Why are you staring?” he teased, not even looking at you but clearly aware of your gaze.

“Because you’re pretty,” you replied, grinning when his cheeks flushed a light pink that rivaled his hair.

You hadn’t expected to fall for Chigiri, not like this. You’d met during the summer, at a mutual friend’s party, where he’d spent most of the evening sitting alone on the porch, sipping a soda and watching the stars. You’d joined him out of sheer curiosity, and before you knew it, the two of you had spent hours talking about everything and nothing.

By the time autumn rolled around, you were inseparable. There was something easy about being with him, like the two of you existed in your own little world.

“Let’s sit here,” Chigiri said, gesturing to a bench under a massive oak tree. The ground was covered in fallen leaves, their vibrant colors contrasting against the dark wood of the bench.

You sat beside him, pulling your coat tighter around you as the wind picked up. He noticed and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders without a word.

“You’ll freeze,” you protested, but he just shook his head.

“I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, are terrible at hiding when you’re cold.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Guess I’m lucky to have you, then.”

He hummed in agreement, resting his head on top of yours. The silence between you was comfortable, filled only by the rustling of leaves and the distant laughter of children playing.

“Do you ever think about how we got here?” you asked after a while, your voice soft.

Chigiri lifted his head to look at you, his expression curious. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just…how we met, how quickly we became close. It feels like it was meant to happen, you know?”

He considered your words for a moment before nodding. “I get that. Sometimes it feels like you’ve been in my life forever.”

There was a vulnerability in his voice that made your chest tighten. You reached out, threading your fingers through his, and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m glad we met,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” he replied, his lips curving into a soft smile that made your heart skip a beat.

As the sun began to set, casting the park in shades of pink and purple, Chigiri turned to you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Want to do something stupid?” he asked, already standing and tugging you to your feet.

“What kind of stupid?” you asked, laughing as he led you toward the pile of leaves under the oak tree.

Without answering, he let go of your hand and jumped into the pile, sending leaves flying everywhere. You stared at him in disbelief before bursting into laughter.

“Hyoma, you’re such a child,” you teased, but he just grinned up at you from the pile of leaves.

“Come on, live a little,” he said, holding out his hand.

You hesitated for only a moment before taking it, letting him pull you into the pile with him. The two of you ended up tangled together, leaves clinging to your hair and clothes as you laughed like kids.

“This is ridiculous,” you said, trying to catch your breath.

“And yet, you’re smiling,” he pointed out, his own grin softening into something more genuine. “You’re beautiful when you smile, you know that?”

Your laughter faded, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest as he leaned closer. His eyes searched yours for a moment before he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was as gentle as the falling leaves.

When the two of you finally pulled apart, Chigiri rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool air.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “I think I’m falling for you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled, brushing a stray leaf from his hair.

“I think I’m falling for you, too.”

And as the two of you lay there, surrounded by the colors of autumn and the fading light of the day, you realized there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

Because falling in love with Chigiri Hyoma felt as natural as the changing of the seasons, as inevitable as the leaves falling from the trees.

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[theunaveragepsychoticbitch]

Bunny & Barb

[gn bunny reader, but you do have boobs. Domming from the bottom kind of vibes, but no actual sex. Sub Barbatos ofc. Cumming untouched. And, uh, you call him a good boy]

Barbatos has encountered many demi-creatures before. The Devildom especially was full of them, any and every combination the mind could- and couldn't -think of. Demi humans were a dime a dozen especially.

So he doesn't know why his heart stopped when he saw you.

He'd seen plenty of bunny combos in his life. Hell, they were probably the most common mix in this circle of hell. Yet, every time your fluffy little tail twitched, he blushed. And with the way your ears flop about as you hop through the hallways, easily clearing the heads of even the tallest demons, he soon finds himself entranced.

He wants to know everything about you. Which side of your family do your bunny traits come from? How high can you jump, how fast can you run? Are your ears as soft as they look? If he touches them, would you blush, would you shiver? Where else would you let him touch? How else–

It was embarrassing, really. Improper for one such as himself to think such lustful things about you, despite your limited interactions. He wanted to hide away in shame when you were around. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to look away.

And right now, you wouldn't let him break your gaze no matter how much he wanted to. You, with a mischievous gleam in your eye as you lay across his lap, offering him the chance to touch your ears.

There's no way you were serious. But you weren't getting up, and Barbatos was only getting redder.

"Are... Are you sure? I'll hold no ill will towards you if you change your mind."

You roll on your side, face inches from his stomach. One hand holds your head up just enough to give him a sassy smirk, as the other wraps loosely around his waist. There's a knowing tone to your words as you speak,

"I wouldn't come all the way down to this dungeon you call a room this late at night if I wasn't sure. Bunnies have to sleep too, Barbatos."

You lift your head up to shake your finger at him in mock disappointment, then drop it back into your hand as if that was the hardest thing you've done today.

Dungeon...? He could admit his room was a tad unconventional, but was that really what you thought?

His thoughts are interuppted when you sigh; it's clearer than day that patience isn't your virtue.

"I know you wanna touch 'em, so just do it. I think just about everyone on the student council has noticed your longing stares. I don't bite, dude. You could have just asked."

"I-I.. I didn't wish to be rude. I apolo-"

"By the bells, are we gonna talk all night?! I would have called if that was the case!"

Barbatos isn't sure he's young enough to survive the shock you're giving his nervous system. And he does want to pet you– regardless of the tireless tongue you were cursed with. Perhaps this is how Lucifer feels whenever Mammon speaks.

But unlike Mammon, your prodding works. His touch is nervous, so gentle you question if they're even there. The rise and fall of his chest is slow and controlled, and as your gaze rises, you see his eyebrows pinched just so in concentration.

'They're even softer than I thought...' He thinks. It was like running your hand through a cloud, the blunt ends of your fur tickling his palms. A shudder runs down his back at the feeling. Several traitorous parts of him can't fathom why he didn't ask for this sooner.

Barbatos' deft fingers begin massaging slow circles into the base of your ears. His thumbs press on just the right spots, and against your better judgement you begin to squirm. He moves up, and you can feel his nails running lightly through the short fur. It's electrifying, and you clutch his waist tight at the feeling.

"My apologies- did that hurt?"

"The exact opposite, actually." The end is muffled, as you've pressed your face tight to his midriff. Leeching off his warmth while he massaged you in a downright life-changing way, you almost considered apologizing for acting like an asshole earlier. Almost.

Barbatos found himself feeling much the same as you. The look on your face as he touched you was breathtaking. Every minute change left him hypnotized, his hands eager to draw out something bigger, something better. But there were only so many reactions he could pull from you while only touching one spot. As this thought crosses his mind, Barbatos' eyes begin to wander...

When he finally catches sight of the little ball of fur on your back, his hands move all by themselves.

Your shirt had ridden up just enough to expose your tail. It was perfectly round and looked like it was actually made of clouds. It wiggled so adorably, could you really blame him for just wanting a quick poke?

His hand cupped it, and just as fast as he'd move to touch he snatched his hand away. Your gasp was loud, and the jerk of your body violent. It was as though you'd tried to clutch him and force yourself away at the same time.

"[Name], by the bells are you alr-"

"Keep going, slower this time. And please, stop apologizing for everything."

Lacking the words to communicate any of this, or even the calmness to form a clear thought, really, he prioritizes following orders.

He can't remember the last time he was this embarrassed or this hot and bothered. Your words went straight to his groin, making feelings he'd forgotten he could experience bloom like flowers in a long-awaited spring.

He also couldn't help thinking about how this petting session was quickly starting to get... Heavy.

Lithe fingers slide down your spine and stop just short of your tail. You clutch at him, an attempt to steal yourself against his next move. It fails.

His claw is dragged in a tantalizingly slow circle around the base of your tail, the force of your shivers enough to rip his shirt.

"Fuck, just take this off." Barbatos finds himself stripped before he can even get a chance to agree. The cold air on his skin is refreshing, but as you begin to strip too, he finds himself hot all over again.

Smooth skin with tufts of fur growing in the most eye catching places. The valley of your chest, your happy trail, growing thicker and thicker as your shins merged into rabbit feet.

Straddling his lap, you're chest to chest now. You notice the way he blushes when your breasts brush him. It makes you smirk; he's too easy to tease, eager as he is now. Your nipples press against his own, earning you a cute little gasp. His hands leave your head to hold your hips, his fingers nervously tapping your skin as he seemingly waits for your next order.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

Barbatos surprises you by looking you in the eye when he answers. "Yes."

"Do you want to touch me?"

"So badly."

"Where?"

His voice is raspy, his chest movements erratic as he pushes as close to you as he can possibly get.

"Everywhere."

It's everything you've ever wanted to hear.

You pull him into a kiss, grinding your hips into his lower abdomen as he roams. Large hands with long, skilled fingers, everywhere at once across your skin. His nails sharpen into claws that leave shivers in their wake, pressing lightning into your skin that leaves you pleading for more.

Barbatos can't take it. Your beauty is devastating, the proof of it all over the ruins of his heart. As you arch into his arms, he is reborn. This new Barbatos lives to pleasure you alone; the only reciprocation he needs is your moans.

You move faster, uncaring of the mess you've made on his skin as your peak approaches. His hands don't stop, his sweet, sweet gaze stuck on you, begging for validation. You've never seen someone beg so deeply without saying a single word. Tell him what he really wants to hear.

"Fuck. You're such a good boy, Barbatos."

He cums untouched, holding on to you tight as trembles wreck him.

Tears cascade down his face, but it's the dazed watery look of joy in his eyes that makes you cum. Your arousal coats his abdomen, further staining his pants as it drips down and soaks into the fabric.

Minutes take as long to pass as hours in the fading light of your orgasms. Sweaty, sticky, and far too hot, you release yourself from his arms to flop back onto the couch. Your legs are draped across his lap, your left arm hanging as your right rests on your head. You've never seen Barbatos without rigid posture before. This is your first time seeing his shoulders sag, his neck fully extended to rest his head on the back of the couch. He's taking deep, open mouthed breaths. You think his eyes are still cloudy too.

'Hot,' You think.

The silence after is littered with pants. Barbatos can't hold a thought long enough to make sense of what just happened, so he doesn't try to. He lets himself drift away on thoughts of soft fur, softer skin, and a cute bunny with a terrible attitude.

When he wakes up, you're long gone, but at least you threw a blanket over him. He's not sure if it slipped off in his sleep, or if you didn't try to fully cover him from the start, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

When he checks his DDD, he's quick to find your contact. There's only one text from you.

[Name]: So, were they softer than you thought?

----------------

[incognit0slut]

Angel

PART 5 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Single Dad!Spencer x Nanny!Reader Spencer likes having you around to look after his daughter, in fact, he likes you a bit too much.

content: (18+) 5.4k, breeding kink, fingering, fem oral, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, d/s dynamic but he still tries to be a gentleman although reader doesn’t want him to, mutual pining, body worship with slight religious metaphors bc he’s down so bad, and of course sweet aftercare a/n: 1) i know the gif isn’t spencer but i just had to; 2) i changed the title from the original plan bc i was listening to angel baby while writing this; 3) if i have the chance to describe his happy trail and tummy i will in a heartbeat; 4) this fic is basically the epitome of D-I-L-F!

“I want you to understand,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear, “that I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

A hand creeps up the back of his neck. “What if I want you to?”

“I’m serious.”

“I am serious. I’m not the one hesitating.”

His hand glides slowly up your side, fingertips barely ghosting over your skin, and a soft, shaky breath escapes his lips. “I’m trying to be responsible."

“I think we’re past being responsible,” you counter as his fingers trace your waist. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re not forcing me into anything.”

“I want to make sure you don’t feel like—” his fingers twitch, lingering over your bare skin, “—like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“I’m literally naked under you,” you remind him. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhales. “You’re making this really hard, you know that?”

“That’s kind of the point.”

And it’s true, Spencer realizes with a rush of heat, because he’s incredibly hard, the heavy length of his cock pressed against your stomach while he braces his weight above you. His lungs tighten, squeezing around breaths that feel too thick to swallow as his teeth graze his lower lip. It takes everything in him to keep from losing himself when his mind is already slipping.

How could he have ever imagined it would go this far?

Spencer can’t quite make sense of how this quiet, unassuming crush that crept in the first time he saw you with his daughter has led to this. It wasn’t anything grand or sudden, just this slow bloom that unfurled every time he caught you reading to Violet or laughing with her over some little joke in the living room. There was just something about the way you slipped so easily into his life, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty until you filled them.

He’d never let himself imagine it would go beyond that. He’d convinced himself those feelings for you were just something he’d have to live with quietly, a small ache that would fade with time. But somehow, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden, you’d found your way to him. And against all his expectations, you liked him back. You like him enough that you’re now wearing nothing but a smile.

Flushed skin kissed by the moonlight spilling through the window.

Innocent eyes touched with a hint temptation.

It all feels like some sort of surreal dream.

The moment that led to this replays in his mind, clear as daylight even if it happened well past midnight. He’d gotten home somewhere between too late and way too late, running on nothing but caffeine and sugar, and there you were, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You started talking about your day with Violet, recounting how you’d taken her to the park, read her favorite book before bed, and how she’d peppered you with endless questions about why the sky changes colors when the day changes into night. But something was different in your voice, a softness to the way you said his name, and your gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and say that’s it, but he felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

Before he knew it, he had crossed the room and kissed you. He should’ve thought it through or paused to consider the consequences, but the way you responded made it clear you’d been waiting just as long for his attention.

His shoulders fall with a quiet exhale.

“This could get complicated,” he continues, as if reminding you (and maybe himself) that there’s a line between employee and employer that he’s about to cross. A line that could change everything between you both once it’s blurred. “We should think about what this means.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to think. If you wanted to stop, you would’ve done it already.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

Instead of answering right away, he leans in, his lips finding the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and then he’s gently pulling the tender flesh between his lips that draws a sudden moan from your throat. The sound seems to fuel him, and before you can even register what’s happening, his fingers are already slipping lower, exploring the soft space between your thighs.

“What if I want more than this?” His fingers inch closer, teasingly brushing against your heat with a slowness that borders on torment. “What if I want everything?”

Your hips buck against his hand. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Not just tonight.”

The words send a ripple of electricity that blooms deep in your core. When his fingers finally slip between your folds, a sharp gasp escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“You… you mean you want… more than this? More than just us… here?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice catching like gravel in his throat as his fingers trace over the slickness he’s found. “Does that scare you?”

For a moment, words fail you. The slow, coaxing rhythm of his fingers pulls you deeper into a haze where coherent thoughts are hard to grasp. There’s a pause, a heartbeat where he stops. Waiting.

“No,” you confess, the truth slipping out more easily than you expected. “It doesn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “It doesn’t?”

Your lungs expand, filling with a rush of oxygen and a nervous flutter that lands somewhere in the pit of your stomach. “I think this is the right time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

Spencer stays motionless for a beat. Then something shifts—his gaze softens, and a small, almost incredulous smile curves his lips. “You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… you have feelings for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re not just… turned on right now?”

“Well, that too,” you admit with a grin, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that. I really like you.”

His smile widens, and his fingers begin to move again, circling your clit with just the right pressure to pull a sharp intake of breath from you. It’s as though your confession is a final green light he’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your teeth catch your lip, struggling to hold back fragments of breath. “I thought it was obvious,” you manage between heavy exhales. “Why do you think I always stay late?"

"To avoid traffic?"

You huff. "I tried to be around you as much as possible, Spencer."

His fingers toy at the edge of your entrance, tracing the slick, warm wetness that clings to his skin as a quiet hum rumbles in his chest. “You know I’m not always the best at picking up social cues.”

“You’re a profiler.” Your breath catches halfway between a gasp and a sigh when he slides a finger in. “You're supposed to notice everything."

He lets your words settle, eyes narrowing slightly as he turns them over in his mind.

“I guess I was too focused on trying not to cross any lines to see the ones you were trying to draw."

A soft moan escapes your lips as another finger slides in.

“I'm… glad you finally caught on."

"I'm catching on now.”

His eyes drop to the way your body greedily takes his fingers. The sight alone sends a rush of heat straight to his gut like a line of fire winding up through his chest and spreading into his limbs. You’re dripping, the slick sound of your arousal nearly derails him as he continues to watch the wetness coat his fingers with every slow thrust.

“Since when have you had this crush?” He asks curiously.

There’s a beat of silence, only punctuated by the soft, breathy noises escaping you. When he finally looks up, he catches the way your face scrunches in pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes barely open, and he can’t help but find it almost unbearably adorable. The corners of his lips twitch with a quiet laugh before he leans in, pressing the softest it’s okay, you can tell me kiss against your lips.

“Since when?”

You blink your eyes open at his question, and there’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Since—” you start, but your voice catches when he curls his fingers slightly, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a barely-contained grin.

“Since?” he prompts again.

You swallow the lump tightening in your throat. “Since you interviewed me for the job."

He absorbs your words. "That’s… more than a while."

"It was innocent at the time," you confess, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. "Just a silly little crush."

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, and whatever sense of composure you had left is slipping away piece by piece. “What changed?”

Desperation claws at you with every passing second, your hips moving against his hand as you scramble to gather your thoughts. But the way his fingers are mapping every sensitive spot makes it nearly impossible to articulate anything coherent. He doesn’t miss the way your breath stutters, or how your words break apart into fragmented attempts to answer.

“I-I—” you stammer, wincing as the words catch in your throat before you finally manage to continue, “I probably shouldn’t say…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing."

He lets out a soft laugh. “Tell me anyway,” he urges. “I want to hear it.”

You fall quiet again, and the only sounds that fill the space between you is the ragged pull of your breaths and the slick rhythm of his fingers pumping lazily inside you. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to disappear if you don’t say them quickly enough.

"Remember when… you taught Violet how to… ride her bike?”

He tilts his head slightly. There’s a furrow in his brow as he searches your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, there were a lot of lessons.”

“The very first time.”

“Ah,” he muses. “Around June, then.”

You nod. “When I… saw you with her that day, I-I… I got curious.”

His fingers falter, just slightly, the subtle pause enough to show that you’ve grabbed his attention. “Curious?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You were so adorable with her… and I started thinking about what it would be like… to have your kids.”

If there was ever a moment to leave him utterly speechless, this was it. His brain seems to stall, the gears grinding to a halt as the reality of what you’ve said settles in. He’s spent so much time trying to be the one holding it all together, but now? Now all he could picture was you holding a baby—his baby—and the thought sent his mind reeling, knocking him off balance in a way he didn’t expect.

“You… thought about that?”

Your fingers trails his shoulder before slipping up into his hair, curling gently at the nape of his neck. “It crossed my mind more than once.”

“That’s—” wow. He leans his forehead against yours. “Not embarrassing. At all.”

“Really?”

“That’s probably the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

You let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling on his curls before drawing his bottom lip into a gentle suck. “It’s never been innocent since then.”

Goosebumps rises along his skin, and the heat pooling low in his stomach tightens as he grows impossibly harder. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time.”

His jaw clenches.

He’s so close to completely losing it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

“Why.. why not?”

“Because I might give you exactly what you want.” When he feels you clench around him, he huffs in amusement. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

There’s a tender spot he finds deep inside, one that feels achingly sensitive, and your mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escaping before you can catch it.

“You really mean it,” he says, more a realization than a question, as he watches your body go pliant beneath his touch.

“I do,” you manage to say.

“You want me that way?”

You nod frantically. “Want your cum in me.”

The second those words leave your lips, his groan rumbles through his chest, and you swallow it down as his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a chaotic rhythm that’s both desperate and needy. When he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours.

“Never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mouth."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me."

His breath brushes against your lips as he whispers, “I’m starting to figure that out.”

When he slowly withdraws his fingers, you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your throat. Your eyes follow his every move as he sits up and settles between your thighs. You’ve always thought Spencer was an attractive man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t admired the way his shirts fit just snug enough to hint at what was underneath. But seeing him naked like this? That was a whole new level of breathtaking.

Your gaze trails down his frame, landing on the soft curve of his stomach, something you'd secretly adored every time it pressed against his dress shirts. It was even more captivating without anything hiding it now, especially with the trail of dark hair leading down. Soft, scattered strands, drawing your eyes right to the place where you can’t help but stare.

He gives himself a slow pump. Once. Twice. And then, finally, you feel the firm pressure of his tip pressing between your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the head of his cock sliding over your sensitive skin. “There's a condom in my drawer."

Your body tenses at the thought of him pulling back, and without thinking, your hand reaches between the two of you, wrapping around his cock before he can pull away. “When was the last time you got tested?”

He exhales sharply. “A few months ago,” he mutters, hips twitching against your grip despite himself. “If there was any risk, I wouldn’t even consider this without telling you.”

“I got tested last month,” you assure him quickly. “We’re both safe.”

He nods absentmindedly. “We can… still grab the condom if you want…”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, gently brushing the bead of precum that had formed at his tip. “I thought I made it clear I want you to cum inside me.”

He can only stare as your delicate finger trails along the thick vein. It feels like all the oxygen he’s desperately clinging to has been sucked from his lungs.

“I know you said you don’t want to take advantage of me…” you continue, guiding him right to your entrance. “But I really want you to.”

He finally lets out a low, gruff sound, something between a growl and a sigh as he slowly pushes himself in. His eyes are locked on the sight of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, watching as your body struggles to take him.

"You should stop talking like that," he rasps through gritted teeth. "I’m barely holding it together."

"Here's another thing you should know about me.”

He ruts gently into you. A push. A pull.

A heartbeat in between.

“I really like it rough."

That’s all it takes.

He slams his hips into yours.

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. It’s more like a surge, a rush of heat and desperation that floods every inch of him the same time you cry out. His throat tightens, constricting around breaths he can’t seem to catch as he resorts to inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Jesus… you feel so—” His words falter, his voice rough and breathless as his fingers figs into your skin. His chest rises and falls with each labored breaths, and his eyes squeezes shut for a moment.

Tight. Warm. Wet. That’s exactly how you feel.

"Perfect." His large hands grips your waist. “You’re perfect.”

You mewl at his words, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it, and the soft, needy noise is enough to make his eyes flicker open. He begins to pull back, just enough to make you whimper from the sudden loss of contact, but before you can catch your breath, he snaps his hips forward with a rough, powerful thrust.

Your hands fly to his arms, holding onto him tightly. "Spencer… Please…”

He lets out a sigh.

No man is immune to that tone of desperation, least of all Spencer. Not when you’re offering yourself to him like something out of a dream. Not when your eyes lock onto his with a look that belongs more to an angel—if angels could be so helpless and desperate. Because what angel pleads with every breath for more?

What angel cries out as he holds your hips firmly in place and thrusts with a force that drives you to the brink of sanity?

He’s mesmerized. His eyes track the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. There’s something almost greedy in the way his gaze roams over you, but it’s when he locks onto where your bodies meet that he really loses himself. A glossy ring coats his cock each time he pulls out, and when he pushes back in, the friction between your bodies creates a lewd, wet sound that fills the room.

He laughs. Not out of mockery, but out of sheer delight.

You’re an angel wrapped in sin.

“I can’t—oh god, right there—” Your nails leave little crescents moon on his skin. “You’re so… so deep.”

You’re really testing his limits, and Spencer knows he’s very far from a violent man, but right now, the temptation to cover your mouth with his hand is becoming dangerously real. Although with the way you’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, he’s sure you’d probably enjoy it.

“Spencer…”

His balls slaps your ass as he slams into you.

“O-Oh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He squeezes your waist tightly. “Already?”

“Ngh.”

Your grip loosens on his arm, and before he can fully process what’s happening, your fingers dance along your clit. It takes all his willpower not to spill into you right then and there when he feels you tighten around him in response. But he holds on, because he needs you to cum first. He needs to feel your velvety walls flutter along the rigid veins of his cock, needs to watch the way your body tenses with pleasure.

He needs to feel it more than once.

He lets you have your first orgasm. Although letting seems like the wrong word. There’s nothing passive about it. He’s making you cum, driving you to it with each calculated thrust. You’re toying with your clit, rubbing in frantic circles just like you do whenever you touch yourself with the thought of him, but this time, it’s even more intense. This time, he’s inside you. And this time, it takes only a few moments for the tension to snap.

You clamp down on him. Hard. So hard that his movement falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. Just as you start to catch your breath, he pulls out, and you’re left in that delicious, dizzy haze, but your mind is even more disoriented when his face suddenly lowers between your thighs.

“Oh, you’re gonna—” you moan as his shoulders nudge your legs apart, opening you wider for him. “Spencer, you don’t have to—”

Before you can finish, before you even take another breath, the tip of his tongue flicks out.

“I want to.”

And he means it. He dives in with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. His tongue starts firm and flat, pressing against you before dragging slowly upward, gathering your slickness in one deliberate sweep. Then he changes rhythm, the broad strokes shifting into something more focused, alternating between gentle flicks and deep, hungry pulls, and it’s doing things to you that no amount of late-night fantasies could have prepared you for.

Your head is all over the place that you reach out blindly, trying to find something solid, but the air merely glides over your skin. You stretch for the edge of the bed, fingertips just skimming the surface before your arms flail helplessly in the empty space. He notices your struggle almost immediately, and without missing a beat, he pulls back, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, reaching out his arms toward you. “Give me your hands.”

Gladly. The second your fingers lock with his, a sense of grounding floods you, though it does nothing to ease the intensity of what he’s doing. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex under your thighs as he positions himself. And sure, your legs somehow feel weightless, like they’re floating in the air, but the rest of you?

You’re a mess of nerve endings on fire.

It’s impossible to think clearly when every cell in your body is buzzing. Your thoughts scatter the second his mouth moves in that devastating way, driving you out of your mind. You try to hold on to some semblance of control, but who are you kidding? He has officially turned you into a puddle of desperate, needy nerves, and you don’t even care.

It doesn’t take long before that coil snaps, and when it does, your entire body trembles. It’s always the second orgasm. The first is a tease, a little warm-up. The second one is the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t just tug at your edges, it tears right through, leaving you gasping and shaking and completely undone like every part of you has been pulled apart and put back together very wrong.

His mouth is glazed with your slick when he finally pulls away. “Good?”

You can barely feel your legs.

“Speechless,” is your answer.

His nose twitches in amusement as his hand leaves yours only for them to slide down your body, gently coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist. “Continue?”

“Please.”

A palm slips down your thigh. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip as he hovers above you. “About what?”

“About taking advantage of you.”

You huff out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Say it again,” he urges, guiding his cock smoothly along your folds before your whines travel into his ears. Ah, there it is. This is the sound that would greet him in heaven, if such a place existed for someone like him. Men who’ve taken lives to save others. Men who carry too many regrets to count. Spencer knows he’s not the kind of person heaven was built for, but if it were, he’s certain it would sound exactly like the breathy moan that escapes your lips.

And he’s tasted the afterlife, once, when he was younger—drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion with a ghost of a needle stuck in his arm. But nothing about that brush with death was like this. This feels like he’s been pulled back into something he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Say it again.”

He’s pleading now. It sounds awfully like a prayer.

“I want you to take advantage of me,” you say, the words spilling from your lips like a soft, sinful confession, music to his ears. An angel. “I want all of it.”

He takes your hands again. “So you won’t be mad if I get a little rough?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

That’s all he needs. He gently pushes your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as his weight presses you into the bed. There’s a sudden rush—like a switch has flipped that it knocks the breath out of you. Your heart skips a beat, but not from nerves. No, this is anticipation, excitement.

You test his hold on you, just to see what happens, but his grip stays firm, almost daring you to resist.

“You asked for this,” he warns as he shifts his hips, aligning himself right to your entrance.

You shake your head. “I begged for this.”

He laughs, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Yeah,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he presses deeper, “you did.”

A breathless whine escapes your lips as he fills you.

Angel, angel, angel.

He looks at you with a kind of reverence that borders on worship, though his movements are anything but saintly. There’s nothing gentle or innocent about the way he’s taking you, and there’s a quiet madness in the way you respond. Making love would be too tame, too soft for what this is. But fucking seems too crude, too disconnected for the way your eyes meet his, for the way you say his name like a prayer and a demand all at once.

The moment your voice breaks, breathless and needy, something inside him snaps. He feels the tightness coiling in his gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. The pressure is mounting, and with every hard thrust it becomes harder to hold back. He knows he should slow down, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he can’t—his body won’t let him.

His fingers tighten around yours. He’s moving with a single-minded intensity now, pushing you flat against the mattress, your body pliant beneath him. The bed creaks every time he moves and your legs wrap tighter around his hips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Spencer leans down, brushing his lips against yours, so close but never quite closing the distance, like even the simplest kiss would shatter him too soon. Instead, he rests his forehead on top of yours and whispers, “l’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like he’s stuck on some endless loop. It’s not a real apology, not for anything he’s done, but for how much he needs you and how he’s afraid of breaking you with how much he can’t hold back.

He’s so close and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m—” He groans as he feels the tension in his body snap, the wave building up in his spine and crashing down with brutal intensity. “I—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You’re barely coherent yourself, but your voice comes out strong. A little breathless.

“Inside,” you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. “I want it inside.”

Your words push him over the edge. He shudders, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can the moment the last thread of his restraint snaps. He can feel it, the way he pulses inside you, filling you completely. Every thrust is accompanied by a harsh groan as his release paints your walls, and the sound of your soft, desperate whines only pushes him deeper into the overwhelming pleasure.

When it finally becomes too much, he carefully pulls out. But the intensity is still coursing through his veins, and he’s too addicted to the sound of your sound, too drawn to the way your body trembles beneath him.

His hand drifts from your wrist almost on instinct, tracing its way down between your legs. He doesn’t need to see the mess he’s made—he can feel it. There’s a fleeting moment where he pauses, almost in awe, before his fingers brush over your clit, and your hips jerk in response. He’s not even sure if he’s teasing you or himself at this point, but he’s too far gone to care.

He slides two fingers inside you.

Your back arches instantly, your nipples brushing against his chest, and you gasp, fully aware of what he’s trying to do. “Oh… I—I can’t…”

He shakes his head. “You can,” he reassures you, watching in fascination as he pushes the white liquid of his release deeper into you. His gaze snaps back to yours. “I think you can give me one more.”

Your body trembles, and you can’t hold back the soft, broken cry that escapes your lips.

“Spencer…”

He loosens his grip on your hand, guiding it gently to rest around his neck. “Please,” he begs, his lips brushing your skin, “for me?”

The way he says it makes it impossible for you to deny him. And he knows it. He feels it in the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the tension inside you builds again. His fingers work faster, more desperate now, curling inside you just the way you like.

He’s watching, waiting, and when you finally cum again, it’s like witnessing something so divine. Your body shakes beneath him, a violent, beautiful quake that feels like it’s pulling him into its orbit. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your head tilts back, lips parting with a choked moan that’s as delicate as it is devastating like an angel’s breath caught on the edge of rapture.

If angels looked this breathtaking in heaven, no wonder people were willing to risk damnation.

Spencer smiles wryly to himself.

Since when did he become so religious?

Another strangled moan escapes your lips. When your orgasm finally subsides, your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and with what little strength you have left, you reach up and yank weakly at his mop of brown curls.

“…no more.”

He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No more,” he agrees, pulling his fingers from you carefully.

Without saying a word, he slips off the bed and disappears from the room, only to come back with a damp towel in his hand. You expect him to hand it over to you, but you’re surprised when he kneels at the edge of the bed, gently spreading your legs apart.

Your skin tingles under his gaze as he stares at the mess between your thighs.

“That was…” he starts as he begins to wipe the towel over you. “…very reckless of us.”

With a small, tired smile, you mutter, “You don’t seem too bothered by it.”

He glances up at you. “I’m not,” he admits, finishing his cleanup and setting the towel aside. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least pretend to be responsible.”

You reach for him as he climbs back into bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on birth control?”

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his body visibly relaxing as he lets out a quiet laugh. “It definitely helps,” he says, tucking you under his chin, “but I’m still going to try to be more careful next time.”

Your grin is as wide as the warmth spreading through your chest. “Next time?”

He smiles softly. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? You said a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” he insists.

“I know. But I want to hear it again.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. “I want everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every single part of you.”

You take a deep breath. A whiff of his sweat and the faintest trace of soap clings around your senses until you release a happy sigh. “Do you think Violet will be okay with this? With us?”

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head to look at you. “She already loves you,” he reassures you. “She’s more adaptable than you think. And she trusts you.”

“But... what if it changes things for her?”

“It will change things,” he admits. “But all the changes will be good ones."

You mull over his words. “You think so?”

“I know so, because you make her happy. You make both of us happy, an—”

He stops, his lips just barely parted as he catches himself.

He almost said it. He almost called you angel.

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly, a faint embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m just really happy,” he explains, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. There’s a curious look in your eyes, but instead of pressing him, you bury yourself into his neck, which he’s quietly grateful for because he’s not sure he could have explained himself without sounding like a total sap.

And maybe he is a sap, but even he’s aware that words like that shouldn’t be thrown around too soon, especially after just one night. Not before things settle in, before everything feels a little less like a dream and more like reality.

But he thinks about it. Oh, he thinks about it. The word stubbornly lingers at the edge of his mind he’s keeping for another time. He imagines letting it slip on some quiet morning, when you’re half-asleep and bundled in his shirt, golden sunlight filtering through the window to cast a warm glow across your skin. Or maybe when you meet him at the door after a long day, and Violet runs up, chattering away while you smile at him with that look that feels like coming home.

He can picture it falling easily from his lips someday, maybe even in a future where you’re holding the baby you had wondered about having with him and he’s standing there, watching you like someone who can’t quite believe his luck.

He’ll say it with a kind of certainty then. Not as a prayer, not as some lofty declaration of divine grace.

And when that moment comes, without hesitation, he’ll finally call you his angel.

[ponderingmoonlight]

How kny men treat their pregnant wife

Pairings: Obanai x fem!reader; Rengoku x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Warnings: I went absolutely insane in Sanemi's part lmao, let me know what you think about maybe even more kny complilations in the future?🤍🫶

Obanai – super overprotective

„Darling, you really don’t have to be cautious all the time. I’m fine and it’s mid-day.”

“You never know”, the man next to you mumbles while positioning himself in front of you.

Since the day Obanai found out that you’re expecting your very first child, he never left your side. Not even at night, when he’s usually out fulfilling his duty as a hashira. And if he must go, he always makes sure that you’re not alone.

“I really don’t want to bother you, but Iguro-san sent me here to keep an eye open for you”, Mitsuri explained with reddened cheeks after appearing in front of your door at sunset.

You sign to yourself with a small smile crawling up your face. You never really realized that your husband is so eager to have a child. When the two of you first met, he acted so cold towards you that you were convinced he hated you after saving your life in your village back then. It wasn’t until he showed up at the butterfly estate on a random day and handed you a bouquet of flowers that you realized how hard you fell for that man yourself. Despite his cool and composed walls, despite always staying in the background and leaving disgracing comments from time to time. You really learned how to love the serpent hashira for the man he is: kind, loving, protective and smart.

“Why are you not coming over to cuddle me instead?”, you suggest oh so sweetly while opening your arms as an invitation.

Obanai side-eyes you up and down, his mind visibly racing behind those gorgeous eyes.

“But what if I hurt you and the baby?”, he mutters, still standing his ground.

“I’m not made of paper and the baby isn’t as well. And also, I’m carving nothing more than a hug from my husband at the moment.”

Slowly but surely, he finally turns around. As if you’re made of porcelain, he wraps his arms around you oh so gently. Have you ever seen your husband this cautious and sensitive around other human beings? You’ve seen the way he beats up the other corps members in his training sessions on a daily basis. A giggle escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. Your man really turned soft due to this pregnancy.

“What’s so funny?”, he grumbles, his vibrant eyes set on you.

“You’re too hesitant to give me a real hug and yet, you’re beating up innocent kids during training. Come on now, I said I want a real hug!”

Before he’s able to protest, you press yourself against him with full force, allow your head to rest against his beating heart. It’s been ages since he last cuddled you the way you always loved it. With your body resting on top of his and your arms wrapped around his broad chest, everything starts to feel like home.

“Don’t you think that’s too dangerous? The baby-“

“The baby will be fine. I can handle a tight hug, darling. I really missed this…”

He shifts his weight underneath you and gently starts rubbing your back. Oh, how much you adore your husband and those sweet little moments between both of you. You never imagined to love someone like this, to fall head over heels for a man who is the complete opposite of yourself. But here you are, falling even harder day by day.

“And…you really think this is safe?”

“I’m absolutely sure it is!”

Obanai pauses for a moment, his eyes almost piercing through you.

“I think you should go and see Shinobu later”, he finally presses out.

“Come on, I already told you-“

“This doesn’t feel safe at all. We’re leaving in just a few minutes”, he continues while wrapping his arms around you.

Rengoku – the proudest soon-to-be dad

“I made you breakfast, my love!”, your husband announces while entering your shared bedroom in his plain white kimono.

“You’re way too kind, Kyojuro. You know I could have done it myself”, you reply while lifting yourself off the futon.

“Oh, let me help you up!”

Gently, he grabs your shoulders and helps you to get up. With your swollen belly, things aren’t as easy as they used to be. By now, you aren’t even able to see your feet anymore.

But it’s all worth it. He’s all worth it.

“Look at you”, he mutters with unusual low voice.

When his hand starts caressing your belly along with that loving gleam in his eyes, you almost forget how to breathe. From the day both of you found out that you are expecting a child, Kyojuro fell head over heels.

“You look so breathtakingly good, my everything. I could stand here and stare at you all day, little flame.”

It almost seems as if Kyojuro’s already heavy feelings doubled during your pregnancy. Not a single hour goes by without him telling you how gorgeous you look, that you are an angel walking on earth.

Even though you know you gained a few pounds and how swollen your face looks. He doesn’t care about the fact that sometimes, you are too exhausted to wash your hair or that you didn’t dress in something nice since your clothes started to get too tight.

Your husband adores each and every fiber of your being.

“Stop, you’re making me blush”, you giggle while playfully freeing yourself out of his strong arms.

“I’ll never stop telling my pregnant wife how gorgeous she looks! How are you feeling, my love?”

You find yourself trapped in his arms with his eyes all over you again. God, will you ever get tired of looking at him, of seeing those vibrant eyes?

“I’m okay. I just feel a little heavy.”

“I’m so proud of you for enduring all of this. Shinobu already told me this pregnancy doesn’t go easy on your body. You’re a real fighter, (y/n)!”

“A fighter? My body is supposed to do this. There’s nothing special about that”, you try to brush his praise off, cheeks already turning dark red.

“Don’t think about it that way. Your body might be equipped for a pregnancy, but Shinobu informed me about all the things you have to endure and how painful and tiring it can be-“

“Did Shinobu really explain all those things to you?”, you mutter through your hands that cover your face in sheer embarrassment.

“Of course! After all, I’m your husband and it’s my duty to support you in the best way possible!”, his beaming voice replies proudly.

“And I can’t wait to meet our little wonder.”

The second he gets on his knees, you see stars. Oh so gently, he pulls your kimono to the side and starts caressing and kissing your womb. Your knees threaten to fail you, feelings all over the place. God, you really don’t deserve a loving and caring husband like him, you don’t deserve all those feelings he holds for you and your unborn baby so openly.

Before you’re able to stop yourself, a violent sob escapes your lips.

“No love, why are you crying?”

Kyojuro meets you eye to eye in an instant, his hand carrying away every little tear that threatens to stain your face.

“It’s just…You are too kind…I don’t deserve your praise…”, you croak out.

“You deserve this and so much more. Now come on, I made you mochis with the receipt Kanroji taught me…”

You sniffle uncontrollably in his arms.

Wait, did he just say…

“You mean my favorite mochis?”, you mutter.

“Of course, little flame!”

“Oh…Then…Maybe we should get going, then…”

Sanemi – doesn’t even know yet

Fuck fuck fuck.

You stare at Shinobu in sheer horror. This can’t be true. Definitely a mistake. A cruel joke, maybe.

You…pregnant?

“Tell me you’re joking”, you mutter under your breath.

Just when you thought things between Sanemi and you started to get better, than you finally managed to live besides. Calling yourself his wife was never easy, especially due to the fact that he only married you because your family literally sold you to him in exchange for not killing you right on the spot. The two of you never seemed to get along that well.

You swallow hard. That night was an exception. You came home drunk, you didn’t know what you were doing when you seduced him, when you began babbling about something as stupid as feelings.

You swore to yourself that you’ll never fall for your husband. And now you’re expecting his child.

“I’d never joke about something like that, (y/n). It seems like somehow, you managed to get pregnant”, Shinobu replies in all seriousness while taking off her gloves.

Fuck.

“He’ll fucking kill me”, you mumble to yourself.

“Maybe he’ll skin me before that, slice open my belly like a fish-“

“Can you just stop?”, Shinobu interrupts you in all urgency.

“Shinazugawa might not be the most empathic man walking on this earth, but he also didn’t marry you for nothing. I’m sure everything will be fi-“

“Absolutely nothing’s fine. I’m fucking screwed”, you huff in frustration while yanking up.

You’re completely fucked. There’s no way in hell Sanemi will ever find out about this, not in this lifetime. You have to make sure that this stays a secret.

“Don’t you dare to tell him a single word about this, got it?”, you literally threaten Shinobu with your shaky finger pointing at her.

You, expecting a baby.

From Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Without even waiting for her reply, you storm out. Are you able to get rid of this situation? Mindlessly, you rub your belly when a new wave of memories from that fateful night hits you.

“I might l-love you”, you blurted into the room, Sanemi’s widened eyes staring at you in sheer horror.

“You…love me? Just yesterday, you told me how much you hate me”, he clarified with harsh voice.

“Are you drunk, (y/n)?”

“I…might be, yeah. But I mean it.”

Against all voices that begged you to stop, you darted towards him.

Until you sat on top of him and wrapped your longing arms around his neck.

“I love u, Sanemi.”

“I can’t believe a single word you say, shithead.”

“Watch me, then.”

It happened so fast you still can’t believe it. One passionate kiss, your hands wandering underneath his uniform, his muscular frame on top of you.

“You really want this?”, he huffed against your cheek, usual so maniac orbs filled with nothing but pure lust.

“Yeah”, you breathed out.

Urgh. You dig your nails into your hair, head spinning instantly. What kind of fuckery is this? Your first night ever and now…you’re pregnant? As if things between you and him aren’t already cringe enough.

“Why are you looking like shit?”

His oh so familiar voice makes your guts turn. For the split of a second, you are literally one movement away from puking all over his feet.

“Why are you talking shit?”, you spit at him, shoulder bumping against his as you try to get away from here as soon as possible.

But Sanemi grabs your wrist before you’re even able to think about your escape.

“Why were you at Shinobu’s? You never visit her.”

“I’m not feeling well”, you jeer at him.

“You even refused talking to her when your bone splatted out of your damn leg. Don’t fuck with me, (y/n). You didn’t come here for nothing.”

“Yeah, I really shouldn’t have done that”, you snap, violently ripping away your wrist.

This is way too much. Your family, Sanemi, that damned pregnancy. You thought this hell trip was over when Sanemi somehow managed to accept you, you really thought you could leave a rather peaceful life.

God, what a fucking fool you are.

“Hey, what the hell is going on? (y/n)!”

Just before your knees hit the ground, you feel Sanemi’s strong arms lifting you back up.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“I’m pregnant!”, you scream on top of your lungs.

“All of this because of that damned night, because I lost my fucking control. I’m pregnant…”

Sanemi’s arms around you tense up immediately. Fuck, you can’t even bring yourself to look at him.

Truth is, you love that man. Fuck, you fell for him harder than you ever imagined, so badly that you can’t stop thinking about him. And that night, you allowed yourself to get a taste of him. After all, maybe this was all you need to finally forget about him, right?

What a fool you are.

“You’re…what?”

Violently you rub away the tear that starts rolling down your cheek.

“You’re…pregnant…”

“Saying it again and again won’t make it disappear”, you bark at him.

“I’ll be a dad?”

Huh? What is that unusual tone in his voice. Did Sanemi Shinazugawa really sound…joyful?

“Yeah…”, you mutter.

In the split of a second, you find yourself devoured in his arms and captivated by his glossy eyes. Your heart skips a beat, mind not able to follow the scene that lays itself out in front of your eyes. He doesn’t look angry at all, not even sad. No, he looks as happy as you’ve never seen him before.

“I can’t believe it. I never imagined this to happen”, he whispers while grabbing your face.

“Gosh, let me kiss you.”

“You want to kiss me?”, you shriek.

Despite your growing feelings for the wind hashira and those countless secret looks you’ve shared with each other, it was always a quiet agreement between both of you to never express any feelings. No hugs, no kisses, no questions. Just living side by side. Fuck, you never even allowed yourself to even gaze at his lips before that fateful night.

And now you’re lying in his arms, pregnant while he asks for a kiss.

“I mean…yeah”, you finally breathe out.

And then his lips crush against yours. Longingly, passionately, filled with so many emotions that you fail to breathe. All this time, you tried so desperately to hate that man, to hide your feelings from him in order to protect yourself. But all it took was a single night and that unexpected pregnancy to make you realize that maybe, allowing yourself to discover your own feelings isn’t that bad, after all.

Maybe, everything will in fact turn out alright.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[itgetzweird08]

“You shouldn’t be up this late”

Bakugo’s voice whispered, filling the silence in the dorm kitchen. He was right, and usually you weren’t. You valued your sleep, often being one of the first in the class to call it a night. But tonight was different. Your thoughts, your heart, were restless. Despite following your nighttime routine, which was curated specifically to help you wind down and rest, you still found yourself tossing and turning. Not even your ocean sounds could help you drift to sleep. Thats why when Bakugo spoke, you sighed heavily and let your shoulders droop.

“Yeah. I know.”

He took a few steps toward you, leaning against the countertop. “So what’s got you awake?” You shrugged at him, watching the water in the electric kettle begin to form small bubbles. “Dunno…just can’t sleep I guess.” You looked over to him, taking soft note of his tired eyes and disheveled hair. “And you? You aren’t usually awake at this time either.” He shrugged right back at you. “Dunno…can’t sleep I guess” he echoed your words, and it made you smile just a bit.

You both knew why the other was awake, or at least you both had some inkling. Between how the ambush attack played out and Midoriya running away, neither of you have had time to really process all of what has gone on. You haven’t had time to think about how your lives had been flipped one eighty. But since Midoriya was back safe and sound, and there was no real information on the League or their next move, everything was at a standstill. That meant your brain was finally coming up to speed on what had gone on recently…and it was overwhelming. It felt like your mind was in over drive, thinking so many thoughts at once that it was causing you to lose sleep.

“…There’s a lot of water in this kettle. Would you like some tea?” Bakugo didn’t answer, just walked over to the mug cabinet and grabbed both of your designated mugs. Yours had your hero insignia, and he had his. It was Nezu’s Christmas gift for all of the hero course students. Bakugo opened the tea drawer, grabbing you each a packet of sleepytime zen tea before walking back over to you. You worked in silence then, enjoying each other’s company as you made your own cups.

Your relationship with Bakugo was unique. You admired him, even when he was a bit of an asshole at the beginning of the school year. You’ve enjoyed watching him grow and working beside him as a teammate. You were inspired by his tenacity and drive. You liked how smart and witty he was, and how he could be funny even when he didn’t realize it. It also didn’t hurt that he was actually pretty cute. And all of the same things went for you in his eyes. He admired your kindness and your courage. He was inspired by the way you had such a big heart but you were no push over, standing up to him when he got too rough with his words or during training. In his eyes, it was like you were one of the only people to give him a chance, getting to know him past his rough exterior. You two had gotten closer during the year, training and studying together sometimes. You began to sit next to him for lunch, stealing small pieces of chicken from his plate while he stole beef from yours. You were the only one with that privilege. Eventually, you became this unlabeled, unspoken thing. You didn’t have to confess your feelings because he knew, and you knew how he felt about you even if he’s never admitted it.

You softly sipped your tea, allowing the warm liquid to run down your throat and causing you to sigh. He stirred his own cup, watching the spoon go around and around. Technically, there was nothing else for you two to do in the kitchen. Technically, you could’ve parted ways right here and drank your own cups in your rooms. But you couldn’t bear to leave him. Deep down, you both didn’t want to be alone tonight.

“Bakugo?” He looked up as you said his name. “Could I sleep over in your room tonight? I don’t think I want to be alone”

All he did was scoff, pick up his mug and began walking towards the staircase. When he realized you weren’t following, he scowled and turned to look at you.

“Let’s go brat. I’m missing out on my beauty sleep”

Part two

—————

Ps: im starting to do requests! So if you have an idea for me, go ahead and put it in my asks <3

[fairy-angel222]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃? 𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ⋆⭒˚.⋆༄

—gojo satoru x fem! reader

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ your husband’s already given you two children, one more wouldn’t hurt right?

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ cw: fluff, smut, breeding, praise, petnames, squirting, impregnation, dirty talk

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ a/n: requested by anon, i loved writing this so much

Eight years.

You and Gojo had been married for eight years. Having met each other in high school, him being the one to get down on one knee the second you both had finished college. He knew you were the one for him ages ago.

That you were his from the moment he met you.

Some would say that you two were living the dream life, despite how young you both were. Gojo never hiding the fact that he was willing to spoil you day by night.

He loved you more than anything. And he never failed to show that through the many acts of affection. His favorite one being buried deep inside you as he whispered the sweet nothings into your ear.

The sex drive of your marriage was high, that was a fact. It was how you ended up with two children in the first place. Two girls who looked exactly like their dad, not even bothering to try with your genes. They had his complexion, his hair, his overly beautiful eyes. They had everything of his.

When you had your first daughter, most people in your life assumed she was an accident. Assumed that Gojo had simply “forgotten” to pull out.

They didn’t know how noisy you’d gotten that night, holding onto your husband tightly as you begged him to fill you up. Begged him to put a baby in you. You wanted to feel all of him.

Your second child was all him. Him begging to give you another one. To pump you nice and full with one more baby. And who were you to say no? You two were building a family and you loved it.

Four and two.

Those were your daughters’ ages, beautiful girls who looked almost identical to each other, obviously. You liked to call them and Gojo triplets. And it made his heart swell knowing that they were something you had both created. Together. Even though they clearly had a favorite already.

His daughters clung to him every second that he was around them. Refusing to let daddy go as your youngest sat in his lap with an adorable grin. Giggling softly as her big sister tied scrunchies into the soft bed of white hair.

“Mommy look! Daddy’s all pretty now,” she clapped, clearly proud of her work as she pulled lightly at the short ponytails.

You watched Gojo grumble under his breath, unable to hide his smile as he looked up at your standing frame. Cheeks tinted red when you laughed softly. “He is baby, he’s very pretty now. Looks just like you two.” Leaning down to peck both their cheeks with a smile of your own.

You yelped softly as you were pulled down, sat on the other side of your husband’s lap as he smirked. “You know who’s just as perfect as you two? Your mommy.”

Your older daughter hummed, cuddling into your lap with a nod. “You are very pretty mommy. Wanna look like you when i get big.”

You couldn’t find the words. As much as you knew that was impossible, it warmed your heart to the core. Especially when your other daughter nodded in agreement, fitting herself on you beside her sister. “You’re very very pretty mommy.”

“Thanks my babies.” You smiled warmly, an arm wrapped around each of them as Gojo wrapped one around you. “Now, you owe me a little kiss too.” He pouted. You giggled, pressing your lips to his in a short kiss before pulling away.

Neither of you wanting to hear the exaggerated ewww that escaped from your daughters’ mouths when you kissed for even a second too long.

You liked to think that you got lucky to have such sweet children. The kind that makes others actually want a child of their own.

—

You loved your life. Everyone could see that. But it had been way too long since you and Gojo were able to spend some alone time together.

It wasn’t your idea, it was his. And you couldn’t not give in when you allowed yourself to think about it. A weekend all to yourselves with complete privacy. A chance for you both to relax.

It was Friday, and you rung the doorbell to your dear friend Nanami’s house, a childish grin on Gojo’s face as he waited for the door to swing open.

Nanami raised a brow upon seeing you two, a cup of coffee in his hand as if you’d interrupted his peaceful morning.

“Uncle Kentooo!!” Two high pitched voices rung out. Little legs running to hug the blond man by his own. Nanami’s eyes widened momentarily, steadying the mug in his hand away from the two latching on to him.

A small smile gracing his face when they grinned up at him. “Well hello you two.”

Gojo grabbed the cup from his friend when your daughters started making upsie signals with their hands. Nanami picking them both up on either side of his torso, turning sharply on his heel as he asked them about their week.

“If that isn’t the sweetest thing I don’t know what is.” You giggled, Gojo’s hand on the small of your back as you brought in two pink princess bags. “So.. Kento-”

“We need a favor.” Gojo was quick to cut to the chase, Nanami not bothering to even watch him as he let small hands play in his hair. His emotions far from the bored expression on his face.

“I’ll watch them.”

“Thank you so much Kento. My parents will be coming for them tonight.” You smiled, the man only nodding with a hidden shrug. “You’re just lucky they’re nothing like him.” Pointing his head in the direction of the man sat next to you.

“Hey!” Gojo gasped in faux offense, “I’m awesome thank you very much.”

Nanami only scoffed. And you and Gojo stood up to give your girls a final hug and kiss to their foreheads. “We’ll see you on Sunday okay my darlings? Grandma and grandpa will come for you later yeah? Mommy and Daddy love you so much.”

“Uh huh, bye mommy, bye daddy!” They sung together, something else that they tended to do from time to time.

As you walked out of Nanami’s house, ready to go home and pack a few clothes, your head tilted. Confusion evident on your face when you looked up at Gojo. “Doesn’t he have work today?”

“Yeah but he adores them. He’d skip work everyday if he had to.”

It was true, Nanami was one of your biggest supports. He was always willing to take them off your hands for even an hour. He hated to admit it but he loved them like they were his own. He truly thought of himself as an uncle.

You found it adorable how serious he was until he was sure you left. Allowing himself to give into their tea parties and makeovers. He was one of the people you trusted most.

You knew that your daughters were in good hands for the day, especially since Nobara and Yuji would be there. Their inner children coming out whenever they were around your daughters.

—

Gojo had taken you to a hot spring resort nearly two hours away. One of the best that he could find.

You were in awe the second you stepped into the place. Never getting used to the amount of money Gojo was willing to spend on you.

The room was huge, and to say it was gorgeous was an understatement. But it paled in comparison to the view. The large steaming pools which were adorned with large marble sloped rocks and tall trees. The whole resort enclosed within mountains which seemed to touch the clouds. The sun setting behind beds of luscious green as the sky glimmered pink and orange.

It was perfect.

Snd the first thing you did after settling in was head into the heated waters. Breathing out contented sigh as you sunk neck down. Allowing the warmth to calm every last one of your nerves. The tension you didn’t even know you had in your shoulder slowing subsiding as you leaned your head back onto one of the large rocks.

“This is amazing.” You smiled, blinking your eyes open to look at your husband, who kept complaining that the area he was in was too hot. Not allowing himself to go any further than his legs until you pulled him into a hug.

Letting the water flow in place at your shoulders. Ignoring the over dramatic faces that your husband was making at the “heat”, simply resting your head in his neck as you relaxed in each other’s arms.

—

The tv blared ever so slightly as you cuddled into Gojo’s side. The coolness of the room unable to beat the warmth that still stuck to your skin. You had just got off a call with the girls. They were at their grandparents’ house. No doubt having way too much dessert before bed. Though they’d most likely get to stay up late watching cartoons.

“You know..” Gojo started, his fingers trailing soft shapes on your skin, “We should have another one.”

You lifted your head off of his chest, “I don’t think they’ll sell us drinks right now love.”

“I’m not talking about drinks.” Your stomach fluttered when Gojo turned you over, his knee in between your thigh as his lips ghosted over your ear. “I’m talking about putting another baby in you.” Allowing it to brush over your clothed clit.

Your lips parted in a whimper when he kissed down your neck. Swiftly pulling off your shirt to kiss at your chest, taking each of your nipples into his mouth while he fondled the other. Your hips bucking up into him when he began grinding his hips slowly into you.

You shivered when his lips touched your belly. Peppering it with small kisses as he hummed against your skin. “Let me make your belly swell.”

You moaned softly, nodding your head eagerly. “P-please.”

“Hmm, gonna give me a third one sweet girl? Gonna make us a pretty family of five?” He husked, kisses getting more aggressive as he trailed back up. His cock twitching at the little whimpers that you failed to contain when you made a noise of agreement.

“Mhm, ‘m gonna give you another one. Wanna give you another one.”

“Yeah?” He breathed, looking for that final bit of confirmation before his lips smashed onto yours. The kiss hard and needy as he worked on removing the rest of your clothes. His fingers dipping down between your folds with a groan. “You’re so soaked f’ me pretty.”

He ran his hand up your slit teasingly, rubbing tiny circles onto your clit making you whine out. “Toruu, no teasing.”

He chuckled, his thick cock prodding at your entrance as he lifted your legs to wrap around his waist. Your hands instinctively draping around his shoulders so that he was pressed into you. A loud moan sounding through the room as he sank into you.

You let a small mewl escape your lips with every movement of his hips. His thrusts gradually increasing in pace till he was hammering into you. Pulling his length almost all the way out before slamming it back into you.

Bright blue eyes met yours, your breathing getting heavier as your back arched off the bed. Nails digging into the skin of his back as you were rocked back and forth. Your husband’s thick cock stretching you out so deliciously as it repeatedly kissed your sweet spot. The position allowing him so deep inside you that he bulged lightly in your stomach.

“Toru, nngh— so good. Ahh.” You were getting noisy. Your cute babbles mixing with the loud echoes of his skin hitting yours. The mere force of his loving making it twice as loud.

You could only moan shakily as you pulled him even closer. Drool covered lips parting in sweet cries when your nails scratched down his back. “O-oh fuck. Ahhh.”

“Taking me so well. My pretty little wifey, can’t wait to see you carrying my child again. Fuck,” He grunted, squelching noises growing louder as your sticky pussy leaked onto your thighs and his. The whole roomed filled with your lewd sounds of pleasure as you both fell into each other. “Gonna fill you up real good baby. Stuff that messy pussy so full of my cum and watch that belly swell.”

Your legs trembled at his words, your hold on him tightening as the rhythmic slapping clouded your brain. Your vision blurring with tears as your stomach tightened. Every nerve along your walls being set on fire as you were fucked like you’d disappear in any moment.

Gojo’s sinking to elbows at the sides of your head for you to cry into his broad chest when you felt yourself nearing your high. “Toruu— so good Toruu, so g-good.”

“Hmm you’re close f’me,” he groaned, your pussy holding him snug as your body shook. “Shit, gonna make you a mama of three. Gonna give it to ya so deep— f-fuckk. Look at me when you cum.” He whispered lowly, your glassy eyes peeling open to blink up at him dumbly.

“Nngh— ‘m, a-ahhh, Toru ‘m so c-close.” You couldn’t think. Your brain unable to process anything but him and the way his cock was fucking into you so good. Your thoughts blanking out as you were engulfed by an indescribable pleasure. Mouth opened in a final cry as you fell off the edge.

“That’s it. Cum f’ me baby. Make a fucking mess on my cock. There you go— just like that.” His thrusts never slowed as a high pitched scream bubbled in your throat. Your body trembling uncontrollably beneath him as you let go. Sopping pussy gushing all over him just the way he liked it. His thrusts never losing their pace as you squirted with a continuous string of moans.

Your husband’s thrusts got sloppy. Head falling into the crook of your neck as he unknowingly slowed down. His thrusts hard and deep as he moaned into your delicate skin. Finding it adorable how your little mewls began to match his pace.

“Love this pussy so fucking much. Could pump her full of my cum every fucking day. Shit— here it comes baby.” His slow thrusts synced with his words, lips capturing yours hungrily as he buried himself deep inside you. Tip sat at your cervix’s entrance when his cock twitched. Spurts after spurts of the the thick substance flooding your insides with heat.

Gojo pulled away from you, a small string of saliva connecting your lips to each other’s. You stayed clung to him like a koala to a tree. Tiredly smiling up at him when he pecked your nose. “If we keep having children every two years we’ll end up with fifty grandkids.”

He chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “So, what are we gonna name her?”

“Her?”

“We only have girls so far baby, i don’t think it’s in my blood to have a boy.” He joked, both of you laughing as you thought of any possible truth of his words.

“I wouldn’t mind a boy,” You sighed softly, using your finger to brush away the loose strands of hair that fell over his eyes. “I think he’d look just like you.”

Gojo’s hand rested on your belly, using his thumb to rub over it softly. “I’d love either, only cause i’d know that i made them with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I love you so much.”

“ And I love you more than you could ever imagine sweet girl.”

[jaegerbby]

➳ inculpatus

--͙[satoru gojo x female! reader]-͙-

╰┈➤ word count; 5800

╰┈➤ rundown; satoru is everything you want and more, it is time you gave him a little more of you.

╰┈➤ caution; virgin! reader (also described as having small breasts), established relationship, corruption kink, cunninglingus, size kink, cum eating, ball sucking (?), handjob, dry humping, fingering.

not proof read!

he is pretty, way too pretty for you to think properly.

"can i suck your dick?" satoru flinches once the words leave your mouth. he is perched on the quaint white sofa in your apartment and maybe you should not have spoken so loosely because his eyes slightly widen as he turns to you.

"sorry! it's just... you haven't tried anything with me." you unsurely speak, avoiding his gaze. satoru is respectful, overly so. you thought inviting him to your place would at least give him a hint without you having to spell it out for him.

sky blue eyes flit over your features before he licks his lips. they are so pink they look doll like. "i don't want to push you." he pauses. "because you're a virgin." while he does not admit it, it undeniably makes him hard.

"i'm not ready for sex but other things." you trail off, "you can do other things with me."

he jaggedly nods, his head feels dizzy after hearing you say he can have his way with you. "i'll do anything you want."

you perk up immediately.

"how do i get it hard?" he follows your gaze as you focus on his crotch. where the grey fabric of his pants are futile in concealing his bulge.

you are too cute. satoru surges forward to press soft wet kisses to the right of your neck before shifting to give the left the same treatment.

your breath picks up at his proximity, you feel the softness of his hair but it is a lot different in this atmosphere.

his large palm cups along your jaw. "you don't have to do anything. i could look at you and my cock gets so hard it hurts. it's worse cause these clothes are so skimpy." his gaze has darkened now, your mouth feels sticky with spit and your stomach turns in an unfamiliar way.

he grips your wrist to bring your hand onto his stiffened erection. "feel that?" he urges your touch along him, it feels hard, long and hot. so hot.

it does not take long before you are caressing him without any assistance, he puffs air into your face. "i didn't make a move cause i didn't want to scare you but i wanted to touch you. whenever you leaned over i saw your titties, i saw how small they are and your puffy nipples. got such cute tits, babe, wanted to suck on them so bad, would you like that?" you mewl at his low voice, his thumb strokes over your bottom lip.

"toru." his expression looks almost pained at how airy you sound, your voice is sexed out already. when you call him like that how is he supposed to stay sane?

he tugs the straps of your vest down, you practically writhe like a cock is in you as your breasts are revealed. you squeeze along his length, your little hand working him despite your lack of experience.

"i want to lick them up, see how much you squirm or if you'd cum from that alone. just from your little tits getting sucked" he paws at your chest, there is barely a handful for him to grope.

he tweaks your nipples, his eyes narrowing and his tongue flicking over his lip. he is so close you can see the sky within his eyes, the thickness of his lashes and the blush along his skin.

"you didn't wear a bra, what about panties? what kind do you wear, ones with little bows, pink, white? what's a virgin like you into? you keep your tight cunt covered in cute ones or do you dress her like a whore?" you moan at the vulgarity, your forehead leaning on his while you lose your bearings.

your pussy is a soaking mess and if you could, you would press your thighs together to relieve the ache that is building up the longer satoru invades your space.

your insides clench and clamp down, they feel like they are begging for something. satoru tugs your hand away from his heady cock and you whine.

"why don't you show me? show me what you have under those slutty shorts." he pinches at your nipple hard enough to make you wince, his teeth flashing as he smiles. he looks so pretty, far too perfect to be real.

your palm slowly strokes your pussy over your shorts, satoru's eyes hold yours before they flit down to look at you touch yourself.

his hands reach for your waist, bunching up in the fabric of your vest. he is so big and strong, his muscles flex and pulse. your fingers prod the waist band, biting your lip as you slip further in.

the soft skin of your pussy meets your fingers and the wetness pooling from your slit drenches them after. it is hot and syrupy. he can see bare skin where your hand keeps the fabric pulled taunt.

"i didn't wear any. cause you'd be here. i thought about you seeing my pussy through my shorts. did you, toru? when i answered the door or when i sat down did you see it?" he groans, rolling his head against yours.

you stroke down your slit, you are wetter than usually. you are so much wetter now than when you are touching yourself to the thought of him.

"you're driving me crazy. yeah i saw it. i saw your little cunt. you need to be careful, i'll start thinking you're telling me to take your pussy when you do things like this." you face contorts, satoru's hand trailing along your sides and his voice sounds like a wet dream come through.

you pump the underside of your fingers along your swollen opening. "i am, toru. it's already yours." your voice is all shaky and you do not sound like yourself at all.

you are all whiny and borderline desperate. you sound like you need to get fucked. you hurriedly tug your hand away to grip his face and press your mouth to his.

the slick from your fingers taints his skin and you hardly know how to kiss but satoru tilts his head to deepen it. he is a good kisser but you knew that already, you have kissed him before but never this exposed, never with this palpable tension.

he hums into your mouth, his hand cupping your throat as his tongue glides over yours. you feel like the saliva pools in your mouth, you suck on his bottom lip then you kiss him harder.

your fingers pull on his hair, your teeth gnashing. it is open mouthed and desperate. the kiss is all wet and sloppy and any time either of you pull back the other chases.

the other pushes forward to keep your mouths connected. wet smacks fill the room, his tongue claims every part of your mouth it already has and when you both lean back your chest is heaving

"fuck, oh fuck." you pant and your fists tangle in his shirt to pull him back in, your lips glide along satoru's, spit swapping and your cunt aching the more you kiss him.

you think you might give him your virginity this very moment.

his thumb strokes your throat, using his grip to draw you closer. your entire body is vibrating, you feel like every neurone in your system is firing off.

you whine, your mouth leaving his with a sticky smacking noise. "i think m'losing it." you breathlessly mutter, satoru drags his finger along your lips, smearing the saliva across the swollen flesh.

"i am too, you shouldn't have let me touch you. i won't be able to stop." you look so innocent, yet your hair is all messed up, your lips are puffy from kissing so aggressively, your cute little boobs are exposed and your pussy is so insanely wet, there is a wet patch through your shorts.

it drives satoru insane, how can you look like sin incarnate and still have innocence all over your face.

"i don't want you to stop." he groans at your admission, you need to stop before he is too far gone. you need to stop before satoru starts thinking about how the inside of your tight virgin pussy will feel. all hot, gooey and sticky. he just knows your leaky little fuck hole would take his shape so well.

he leans in to peck your lips, satoru needs to stop thinking. "m'not letting you suck my cock." you stare at him in disappointment. why are you doing that? satoru has half a mind to stick his cock in one of your holes and you are making it far too difficult not to.

his hands caress your hair, smoothening it down before he cups your face. he wants to bite your pouty lips and never stop kissing them at the same time.

"not today, not gna slip my cock in your tight baby throat and feel all those little muscles gripping me, no cause i want to eat up your pussy instead. i want to taste how sweet you are and stick my tongue in that virgin hole." your fingers paw at his body, feeling his hard stiff muscles beneath them. he tugs off your vest and you lay back as he reaches for the waist band of your shorts.

a deep sound rumbles in his chest when the material peels away from your cunt and he sees it for the first time.

"c'mon didn't you want me to see? spread your legs." and you do, without any fanfare. satoru's large palms coax along the back of your thighs before he cups under your knees to keep you open for his prying eyes. satoru wonders how long you had been thinking about showing him your hot sticky pussy.

he wishes you showed him sooner but he might have lost it since then. your cunt is dripping with slick, it leaks down your hole to your ass. you look all pink inside satoru wants to see it stretched around him, he wants to feel you gripping his cock and milking him dry.

"got such a pretty pussy, i'm lucky, so fucking lucky. my pretty girl is so gorgeous. look at this messy little hole, she's so wet, fuck." the tips of his fingers trail along your slit, collecting your wetness before he rolls your stiff clit. you jolt as he strokes your bundle of nerves. the mewl that escapes you is borderline pornographic.

he leans over to lap at your lips and then he is shoving his tongue in your mouth to roughly kiss you. his entire body is between your legs, he covers you completely. he is so big it makes you ditzy. he is hard and muscular all over.

when he is on you like this, all you can think about is how easily he could fuck you, it is all you want. you want him pounding into your pussy until you are brainless. he is so close he could take you right now if he pleased.

your hands tangle in his hair, trailing down his jaw and neck before you squeeze his broad shoulders. satoru moans into your mouth, propping his arm beside your head to crowd over you more.

your hips stuttering as he rubs your clit harder. you feel his bulge hitting the back of your thigh, hot on your skin beneath his clothes. you want to see it, you want to touch it.

"toru, i want to see you" a growl rumbles in his throat and he licks into your mouth. "take it off, please" you tug at his shirt, he does not want to stop kissing you. his expression is pained as he pulls away, hurriedly yanking off his shirt to reveal his narrow waist and the muscles all over his body.

you giggle when he shoves his pants down and almost falls over. he climbs onto you with an embarrassed smile on his face and blush coating his cheeks. "you laughing at me?" you hum. "cause you're cute and i like you." you brush the long hair away from of his forehead and wrap your legs around his narrow waist to tug him in.

when his covered erection meets your slit you both breathe heavily. "why didn't you take these off?" your finger prods the waistband of his boxers. your eyes are on his, the same ones that look like every sunny sky is held within them.

"i don't trust myself to not fuck you. if i take them off, you won't be a virgin for much longer." you shiver beneath him. that does not sound like a threat, it sounds like the solution to everything.

like something you need to keep breathing. satoru is big, every muscle in his body is defined, you can trace each one with your eyes. his shoulders, his abs, his biceps. you want to see how they flex and bulge when he is losing himself in your cunt. how they will pulse when he is fucking you.

he gropes your breasts, his tongue laving over your nipple before he sucks down on the perked flesh. your legs jerk when he thrusts his hips into yours. your stomach feels tight, you feel like there are too many butterflies within the small space.

your pussy leaks so much liquid it drenches the front of his boxers, it only makes it easier for him to hump away with your pussy. his bulky thighs are warm as they press into the back of yours to hold you open. satoru pants into your skin, you can see the ripple of his back muscles as he fucks his hips.

there are wet smacks of his cock colliding with your cunt, this alone feels so good, you know it would feel a million times better if he was actually fucking you. you want him to have you, you want the real thing. it turns your brain to mush, makes your cunt ache and your tummy tremble.

he is breathless when he kisses you, it is hard and sloppy. almost as hard as his cock grinding against you. it is thick and long, you want to have it in your hand, down your throat, inside you.

you never thought depravity would ruin you like this but it does and it is okay because satoru is the only one you will get like this for.

his hands desperately grip your cheeks and jaw. you moan as he pulls back to slam his hips particularly hard. hard enough to make your body jerk and your back arch.

"i want to eat you out. i need your pussy in my mouth, need to know how you taste." you whine, your nails dig into his nape, thighs squeezing on either side of his hips.

"anything, toru. anything you want." you mewl. the friction on your pussy has your head in a mess, more of a mess than the slick leaking from your untouched hole.

he presses his stuttering hips flush to yours, his hefty length digging into your cunt. "you don't know how much i thought about this, i used to rub my dick raw when i thought about getting my mouth on you. my tongue in you, wanted to smell and taste your pussy so bad."

he slowly kisses down your sternum, hands trailing over the heat his lips leave in their wake. his palms are so wide, just one spans your waist. just one covers the plane of your stomach. his mouth seems to water the closer he gets to your sex.

you tug your legs to your chest, your hands folded and resting over your mouth. you tense when satoru presses his nose into your slick and nudges the flesh. it is embarrassing, even after all you did, it makes you more flustered than you can explain.

"you smell like heaven, baby. fuck don't ever keep this cunt away from me." his tongue flicks out to lave over your buzzing clit and your eyes shut tightly. it is when he reaches your dripping hole does your body stiffen the most.

your toes curl as he licks you greedily, sucking at the sodden flesh. it is like he does not want to stop. he presses further, his tongue flattening over the expanse of your pussy as he licks it entirely.

"fuck, babe. your pussy's too perfect." his eyes flick upwards, they are blown out and predatory. he spreads your lips before wetly spitting a thick glob into you.

he drags it along your slit before plunging a finger inside. it is long and thick, a lot thicker than any of yours. you writhe at the intrusion.

"how am i supposed to fuck such a tight hole? won't be able to take it, i might just rip your cute little cunt apart." his mouth encloses your clit, sucking and licking as he fucks his finger into you. the pace he sets is fast and riveting, it has you moaning like a freaked up slut instead of a virgin.

you brokenly cry when he adds another finger and your insides are stretched more than they are used to. you can hear the soaked soppy noises of your hole being slammed into over and over, his slimy mouth on your clit.

it is so embarrassing. yet it feels so good, getting your insides stroked and having his mouth somewhere you never thought it should be made your entire body buzz.

his mouth wetly separates from your clit with a sticky pop. "you like that? yeah you do, got your pussy dripping all over me." he thrusts his fingers, deep and fast. like he has done it countless times before.

you dumbly nod your head, your insides squeezing his digits and your hips rutting to meet his movements. he pounds into your hole until the creamy liquid is dripping down his wrist and there are tears in your eyes. saliva webs in your mouth while you moan. he slowly pulls his digits out of you.

"you okay?" you hum, sniffling. your eyes trail along his glistening fingers, it is weird to think they were just inside of you. satoru looks at you as he kisses your abdomen, caressing your thigh before his tongue glides along your entrance.

the tip prods your cunt and you whine lowly when the hot slimy muscle finally sinks in, hips tilting at the strange sensation. he groans into your flesh, his jaw dropping to press deeper. the tip of his perfect nose nuzzles against your clit and your eyes flutter constantly.

your lids threaten to shut as his mouth drips saliva onto you and the muscle squirms within your gooey walls. the knot in your stomach pulls tighter and tighter, your thighs tensing at the sight of him bobbing his head between your legs.

your shaky fingers find purchase in fluffy white locks. the feeling of his tongue being pumped into you makes your mind go blank, it makes your mouth water and your insides tighten.

squelching sounds fill the room as he eats your cunt up. his tongue going so deep your vision blurs.

"toru, toru, toru." you did not realise you were moaning. blue eyes flick up to look at you, you who is so lost in pleasure your head is leaned back and your chest is heaving.

satoru thinks if he had to choose the happiness moment in his life it would be here, with you. you were intoxicating enough but having you like this meant he could never be without you.

your slick in his mouth drives him insane, he wants it on his tongue always, he could die happy if your pussy is the last thing he has. he sucks up your drenched hole before moving to your clit.

he laps at the mound, fingers filling your hole to replace his tongue. the faster he shoves into you the more you tremble, the more your body jolts and the tighter you grip his hair. they reach for his shoulders instead, nails digging into his flesh and it makes satoru think about you clawing his skin when his cock is buried balls deep in you.

your voice is all high pitched and whiny, your head writhes against the couch, hips bucking into his face. he does not give you a break, despite your moans being broken and shaky.

no, he slams his fingers into your creamy pussy, feeling your walls pulsing around him as he quickly thrusts into you.

your liquid splatters with the pace of his movements, his mouth alternating between sucking your clit and licking it up. your voice is all honey dew and dreamy when you cream.

satoru groans at the taste of your cum, still fingering your innocent hole as he laps at the evidence of your orgasm. your thighs tremble and you roll your hips into his face, breathless with the weight of your high.

satoru's jaw is covered with slick when he moves over you, his other hand still gently caressing between your folds after slipping out of your sensitive slit. "why do you know how to do that?" you mumble.

"i had to know just so i could do it with you." he flashes you the prettiest smile. you trace his jawline, your blurred eyes trailing over his messy hair, his lengthy lashes, his gorgeous eyes and the slope of his nose.

the pinkness of his lips is more swollen than usual and cum drips down his jaw. even so he lacked imperfections.

satoru pecks your cheek "you were so good, such a perfect girl." he presses his body flush onto yours, both of his arms hugging your figure.

your smile is flustered with his weight on you, you keep him as close as possible. you are overwhelmed in a good way.

you think you would do this countless times so long as it is with satoru. he buries his face into the crook of your neck and sighs softly.

"i don't think i could be without you." truly, he thinks it might break him. you press a kiss to his hair, your hand stroking down the toned bulked up expanse of his back.

"you'll always have me, toru." the sound that escapes him is something like a whine as he leans in to peck your lips.

"we should clean up." you slowly let go when he sits himself up. satoru's arm is resting along the back of the couch, one leg folded while the other rests on the tiled floor.

his dexterous hand adjusts his cock through his boxers. the thickness looks like it is struggling with the constricting fabric. your body feels lighter, the mess between your legs is a bit uncomfortable but you tug them to your chest and look at the male before you.

he is way too big, it makes you all tingly inside. like he could hurt you if he wanted to but he does not. like if he held you, his arms would be the most impenetrable fortress. 

"what do you want to do after?" he leans his head back, his eyes turn to you and his adam's apple bobs. he is looking at you but you are staring at his evident erection.

the thin material of his boxers does nothing to hide the girth of his aching cock nor does it conceal the wet patch from his pre cum.

"so shameless." he slyly smiles, he reaches to nudge your chin but his resolve falters when your gaze flits between his crotch and his eyes and your cute little tongue trails along the seam of your kiss swollen lips.

he hopes you do not say what he knows you will because satoru cannot resist you. not a single ounce of him has the strength to refuse you.

"toru, i can take care of you too." his smile slowly drops and his mouth dries. his eyes go dark and he tilts his head.

"yeah?" he sees your little hands bunch into fists before you perch yourself on your knees and you lean closer to him.

satoru wants you this close forever, to always see, touch and have no matter what. your hair frame your face and your lips pouts with your words.

"if you want to use my mouth or anything else, you can." you are temptation. you are temptation in the form of an angel.

satoru swallows hard, he shifts closer to you, hands cupping either side of your head. he kisses your forehead before nuzzling your nose with his.

"today isn't about me, we'll do it another time." your eyes flit over his features, leaning in to peck his plush pink lips. you grips his wrists, stroking them.

"but i want to do it now, i really want to see it." satoru breathes heavily. he feels like there is no air in his lungs.

"okay." it comes out soft, you are too good for him. "i just need you to put something on if i'm taking my boxers off."

his large palm trails down your bare chest "you're too pretty, you're everything i want and i don't trust myself to not take you." you slowly nod before holding his hand. satoru follows you without a question, he would follow you to ends of the earth without any hesitation.

your bedroom is pink where your apartment is white everywhere else, it is like you were hiding all the colour in here. it is his first time in your bedroom despite the countless times you slept over in his.

you have plushies all over your bed, the sheets are pink, your fluffy pillows are pink, your closet is wide open and all that meets the eye is pink. your laptop, headset, desk. it is all pink.

you leave him beside your bed and he sits at the edge with an increasingly painful erection making his boxers tight.

his eyes trail over your room and he has to adjust his cock again. this should not be a turn on.

yet something about you, a pretty little thing like you touching yourself in such an adorable room, getting fucked by him in here.

the thought of him pressing your face into these pink sheets and rawing your cunt with reckless abandon. it makes him lose his mind.

he winces as he tugs his swollen cock. when you come back into his view, pink lacy panties are covering your pussy and the matching bra that conceals your tits makes satoru groan.

you draw closer to him and his large palms caress your hips. "now i know you wear cute panties." he jokingly says but there is a desperate undertone in his voice.

when you kneel down, satoru thinks he might be too turned on to think. he wants to keep you to himself.

your hand strokes along his happy trail before teasing the waistband framing his deep v line. he gently grasps your wrist, preventing you from going further.

"we'll leave the blow job for another day, okay? you can use your hand, i'll tell you what to do." you nod yet your eyes look all hungry. his abs tense, staring at your face as he tucks his thumbs into his boxers and tugs them down his thighs.

finally having his aching cock unrestricted has him grunting. your expression is so flustered yet you are pressing your legs together to dull that burning desire at the sight of him.

he grits his teeth, you are staring at it, from the pinkness of his swollen tip, to the dip where his head meets his shaft. the hefty girth with veins trailing down it, there is one particularly prominent one along the underside.

satoru wants to make you feel every inch of it inside, he wants to make you take his shape. maybe he is thinking too deeply, he jolts when your mouth surrounds the side of his ballsack and your little tongue is laved along it repeatedly. "don't- ohmfuck. okay, okay." he pants, fingers curling into his palms.

you need to stop before satoru shoves his entire cock down your throat without any care that you are gagging and choking on it. the gasp that leaves him is way too shaky. his tip goes past your face, it is over the crown of your head, it is too big for you. he is too big for you but he cannot not touch you.

he needs you like he needs air. he hums softly, he should stop you. he really should but he cannot when you are sucking at his balls. your little hands resting on his upper thighs and your mouth is draining him of any self preservation.

"you like it?" there is a sticky noise as your mouth pulls back, so much saliva on his skin. it is even webbed in your mouth.

"mm, you're so big toru." hearing those words in your soft voice makes his cock ache. he should not, he really should not but he needs to see it.

"keep that pretty baby mouth closed." he cups the back of your head, gripping his cock and squeezing it tightly before he presses it into your cheek. he curses, burning it into memory as he rubs his mushroom tip along your lips. his pre cum looks better than any lipgloss you own.

his fingers tangle in your hair to make you look up at him. having pretty little you, kneeling in nothing but laced panties chips away at satoru's restraint.

"want you to wrap your hand around it, can you do that for me?" you hum, when he lets go your fingers take his place. right around his base, your hand is so much smaller and so much softer. your fingers do not even reach around the perimeter of his cock.

his breaths are all laboured and hard, "don't put it in your mouth, just lick the head." his thumb strokes your cheek and you lean closer. your squirming slimy tongue trails over the slit and satoru throbs against the muscle.

"fuck, baby, you're so good at listening." he grips your hand to guide you up and down his length. "squeeze it a bit and move your hand like this." pre cum dribbles and he lets you do it on your own. it is jerky and unsure but somehow your hand feels so much better than his. he leans back on his arms, his hips moving slightly, his chest heaving and his dick begging for release.

"am i doing okay?" you mumble, begging for praise, feeling the ridges of his cock along your fingers while you slowly stroke up over his thick head and down his shaft.

the liquid seeping from his tip glides down along the sides and collects on your fingers, making it easier to jerk him off.

"more than okay, pretty girl. you're perfect." satoru's hand tangles in your pink sheets, the other reaching to tuck your hair behind your ear.

"faster?" you tilt your head, you are like a puppy. the cutest one ever.

"if you want." he grunts, when your hand starts pumping at his cock more, his eyes roll back. the muscles along his thighs flexing, all over his body in fact. he cannot help but fuck his hips upwards to meet your movements.

he is leaking incessantly, it coats your hand and it sounds all sticky and wet when you rub his cock. satoru curses, he feels like a virgin, maybe it was you, maybe it was your hand on him but it made his stomach all tight and his cock throb with no control.

you stroke at his base with a vigorous pace, your other hand surrounding his upper shaft and moving much slower. he jerks, teeth gritting when your tongue laves over the pinkness of his head before you take it in your mouth. it is so warm and wet, it makes him lose his mind.

your lips rest right before his shaft and the second you suck, satoru tightly grips the sheets, his head hanging and his jaw dropped to moan erotically.

"baby, baby what are you doing to me?" his unsteady palm caresses the crown of your head, petting you like the sight of his cock in your mouth does not tear him to bits. like it has not thrown him over the edge.

he wonders if you can feel him pulsing against your tongue. he wants to know what deeper in your little mouth would feel like wrapped around him.

"you're so fucking good, holy shit. never felt this good before." he groans and your eyes meet his, your wide innocent looking eyes despite how he has tainted you already. you look too pure for what you are doing.

"fuck m'gna cum. gna cum, take your mouth off baby." his hips stutter, muscles jumping. his toes curl into the fluffy mat beneath you both. you are still licking and wetly slurping around his head while you stroke his cock. the heated muscle of your tongue laving at his slit.

satoru's never came this quick before. his lids keep fluttering, he cannot stop groaning. his mind is too occupied with the thought of cumming in your mouth to stop you though he knows he should.

you keep touching and satoru has lost it already. he does not realise he is cumming in your little mouth until your hands have slowed down and you are teary eyed with milky liquid dripping down your jaw.

he curses. satoru is so sensitive and you are swallowing, why do you keep swallowing?

"baby, don't swallow. fuck, you don't have to." your hands shift to rest on his thighs, your brows furrowed and your little throat still bobbing.

you lean back and strands of cum are webbed in your mouth, still connected to his softening member. it drips onto the rug beneath you.

you sniffle, swallowing hard while you gaze up at him. your eyes are all glossy and pretty.

"i didn't think it would be that much." you are on your knees, right in front of him with your belly full of his cum, looking like the sweetest girl in the whole world.

you are his, you are all his. you have to be.

he cups either side of your face, leaning down to kiss you hard. he tilts his head, his tongue gliding over yours and the taste of his cum heavy in your mouth.

he reaches under your arms to lift you into his lap, nose nuzzling yours while he hugs you close. you are so much smaller you tuck right in along his large frame.

"i like you too much." he breathes into your shared air.

satoru cannot get enough of you.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, somnophilia, implied non/con, mentions of knots.

Puppy!Yuuta, who catches your eye the second you step into the shelter, despite the fact that he’s not at all what you were looking for. You need a service animal, and as cruel as it feels to say, hybrids of undeterminable origins with less-than-stellar past homes aren’t known to be very consistent, let alone trainable when it comes to such a high-stakes job. You were supposed to meet a pure-bred, highly recommended husky hybrid whose previous owner was no longer able to take care of him, but it was over for you as soon as you saw those big, dark, watery eyes – nearly hidden entirely by overgrown hair and jet-black ears that seemed to droop even lower whenever you threatened to look away from him. You’re already a lost cause by the time you ask a shelter employee for his name, and the paperwork’s signed within the hour. He leaves with you the same day, eyes on the ground and tail wagging a mile a minute.

Puppy!Yuuta, who was always meant to be someone's spoiled pet. He's shy, at first, scared to talk too loudly or cling too tightly or do anything that'll get him sent back to the shelter (no matter how clear you make it that that's a non-option), but it only takes him a few days to warm up to you, a couple weeks to come out of his shell, just under a month to start sleeping in your bed and trailing you around your apartment. He almost trips over himself when you ask if he'd like to wear a collar, and soon enough, he's more akin to a second-shadow than a dog. He does have some aggression issues, particularly when it comes to human men, but he's an angel with other hybrids, and when he bows his head and pouts, you really can't help but forgive him. With a life like the one he must've had, you can't really blame him for being so quick to bear his teeth.

Puppy!Yuuta, who's more than ecstatic when you mention still needing a service animal. He might not be qualified on paper, sure, but he's already constantly at your side, constantly worrying about you - it'd just feel wrong to go out and get another hybrid for a job Yuuta is more than capable of. He says he likes that idea of being able to take care of you, too - like you take care of him. You want to ask him not to be so sappy, to think of a slightly less sentimental way to say it, but when he's so happy and so, so proud of himself, it's hard to be even that strict.

Puppy!Yuuta, who cums untouched the first time you comb your fingers through his hair. You don't seem to notice, and he does his best to hide his face in your lap, to bite back the little, pathetic whimpers that crawl up his throat whenever you scratch at the base of his ears. He doesn't want to scare you, to be so needy so suddenly when you've been so kind.

Puppy!Yuuta, whose one and only flaw is that he can't seem to stop riffling through your dirty laundry. He can't be left alone for more than an hour without stealing one of your oldest, most threadbare shirts or worse, claiming a pair of your underwear as his newest chew-toy. You really should chastise him for it, but it's such an awkward thing to talk about, and he has such a sweet face - it's hard to believe he could ever do anything deliberately wrong. You've resigned yourself to just trying to limit the damage and salvage the less damaged items, even if those mysterious stains are a little hard to get out.

Puppy!Yuuta, who wishes he didn't have such a big, bulky knot. It's too thick and too heavy and seems to swell up whenever he gets even a little hard. If he didn't have a knot, he'd be able to actually thrust into you, rather than just fucking his fist over your sleeping body and imagining how tight you'd be, how pretty you'd look, how nice it would be to make you feel as warm and as soft as he feels because of you. He does what he can with his tongue, but you don't seem to like waking up with his saliva soaking everything between your thighs, and he always gets too excited when he tastes you. If he has to rut against your thigh that desperately again, he's afraid you might wake up and scold him.

Puppy!Yuuta, who can't wait until he works up the courage to mate with you properly. He knows it's still too soon, that it'd scare you to do it so abruptly, that he doesn't deserve it yet, but soon, he'll be able to to step up and take care of you as something more than just a pet. He's not there right now, but one day, he just knows he'll be the perfect mate for you <3

[kateschi]

where pride meets love

synopsis: in a u.a. highschool reunion, your husband is up next in introducing his family.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: inspired by @call-memissbrightside

the gymnasium at u.a. is alive with activity, filled with faculty, students, and heroes from all walks of life.

katsuki’s standing near the back, holding your baby girl in his arms, her tiny hands clutching at the fabric of his hero uniform, her eyes wide as she takes in everything around her.

his expression is a mix of annoyance—because honestly, this whole “family introduction” thing is a bit much—and tenderness, which only those closest to him will ever notice.

you stand beside him, your hand resting on his arm, and for a split second, you catch a glimpse of something different in his usual scowl—something soft.

you’ve seen it before, but only in moments like this, when he’s looking at the little life in his arms or the family he’s built.

principal nezu steps forward with a polite clap of his paws.

“thank you all for coming! we’re glad to have so many wonderful alumni here today. if anyone with families would like to introduce them, now’s your chance.”

the crowd goes quiet, waiting for someone to step up. katsuki glares around, crossing his arms over his chest, but it’s obvious he’s trying to look disinterested in the attention he’s about to receive.

it doesn’t work, though. he feels all eyes on him, even before nezu directs them that way.

you give him a small smile, teasing him with a gentle nudge to his side. “you ready to show your family off?”

he scoffs but doesn’t pull away. instead, his gaze softens just a little when he looks down at your daughter, who smiles up at him with those same bright eyes you both adore so much.

his chest swells, and despite his usual gruffness, his pride is impossible to hide.

you feel it too—the silent understanding between the two of you, the knowledge that this moment, in front of everyone, is just another reflection of how far your life together has come.

with a sigh, katsuki straightens his back, shoulders broadening as he stands a little taller. “alright, fine. let’s get this over with,” he mutters under his breath. but then he clears his throat, lifting his chin just a bit.

he shifts his daughter against his shoulder, gently adjusting her so she’s more comfortable in his arms, and with a look at you that says, here we go, he raises his voice for everyone to hear.

“this—” he gestures to your baby, her tiny hands reaching for him in her usual, curious way—“this is my kickass baby.”

he flashes a rare smile down at her, the kind that could melt the hardest of hearts, before pulling you into him with his free arm, draping it over your shoulders.

“and this here,” he says, puffing his chest out slightly, “this is my kickass wife, y/n. the best damn woman in the world.”

you catch his eye, and for a brief moment, it feels like the whole room has faded away. there’s only the two of you, standing side by side, as he proudly introduces you to everyone in his own way.

a few of the students near the front start whispering to each other, smiles on their faces. kirishima, always the supportive friend, claps katsuki on the back, his grin wide.

"man, you really went all out with the family introduction, huh?" kirishima laughs, his voice loud enough for katsuki to hear.

katsuki looks over at him, narrowing his eyes, but there’s no malice in his gaze.

instead, it’s just the usual katsuki way of pretending to be annoyed. “shut it,” he growls, but his hand tightens around yours.

kirishima raises his hands in mock surrender, still chuckling. “I’m just saying, you’re looking like a proud family man.”

“damn right I am,” katsuki mutters, his gaze falling back on your daughter, who is now gripping his finger as she babbles in her own little way.

his eyes soften again, a rare, unguarded moment that no one else seems to notice, but you do.

you always do.

as the buzz in the room continues around them, katsuki’s gaze remains fixed on your daughter, his lips pulling into the smallest of smiles as he watches her reach for his hand.

she’s talking—if you can call it that—her baby words tumbling out like she’s already got something important to say.

you can hear the quiet adoration in katsuki’s voice when he responds to her, low and soft, “yeah, yeah, I hear ya, kid.”

you lean into his side, the warmth of his arm around your shoulders feeling like home. it’s one of those moments where everything feels right.

amid the chaos, in front of so many people, katsuki looks just like the dad you always knew he’d be—strong, protective, and completely head over heels for the tiny person in his arms.

the crowd slowly starts to disperse, some students moving towards the refreshment table, others chatting amongst themselves.

katsuki stays still, barely noticing the shift in the room. his eyes stay locked on your baby, a tiny, content smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“want me to take her?” you ask, nudging him gently with your elbow. “you look like you could use a break.”

katsuki looks down at your daughter, his arms tightening ever so slightly around her. she stares up at him, her big eyes soft and trusting, and for a brief second, it seems like time stands still.

then, just as quickly, he shakes his head, but the fondness in his gaze remains.

“nah,” he mutters gruffly. “she’s good here. I’m fine.”

you let out a small chuckle and settle against him, your hand resting gently on his arm as you watch your daughter settle down against his chest, a soft yawn escaping her lips.

katsuki pulls her a little closer, his other arm winding around you, bringing you both in.

the way his grip tightens around both of you, the way his hand moves just a little bit to the back of your neck, drawing you in closer.

you rest your cheek against his shoulder, and the sound of the crowd fades to the background.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[fakebwitch]

need you

[rafe cameron x fem!reader]

summary: rafe woke-up from his sleep, he’s needy and you’re right next to him.

warnings: smut, dirty talk, praise, pnv, unprotected sex

rafe sighed heavily moving in bed, he tried to change side of the pillow but both were hot, and the fact that his cock in the boxers was hard didn’t help at all. he looked at the alarm on the bedside table next to him 2:46 a.m., it had been going on like this for almost an hour, he shifted his gaze next to him where you slept blissfully without having the slightest idea of what was happening next to you.

could he jerk off? yes of course, but at that moment it wasn’t his hand that he wanted, it was your pussy, feeling your wet walls sucking him inside and squeezing him was what he needed. he tried to restrain himself, not wanting to wake you up for some of his dirty pleasure but it was becoming unmanageable.

his gaze moved down, your back slightly arched while you slept on the left side, the little babydoll you were wearing had risen slightly making the base of your ass visible to his eyes. he cursed internally as you released small murmurs.

he groped his cock with his hand feeling the fabric of the boxers slightly wet from his pre cum. he turned sideways towards you, approaching so that his cock was against your ass, he released a choked moan at the sensation, his hand rested on the soft skin of your thigh slowly rising stopping with a firm grip on your waist. “babe..” his voice was low and hoarse, his mouths a few centimeters from your ear, his despair grew more and more as he slowly began to rub against your ass.

“baby wake up... I need you” his voice this time louder as you slowly began to come out of your state of sleepiness, you opened your eyes feeling his warm body pressed to yours, all you could see was black apart from a few glimmers of light coming from the window. “rafe...” you moved slightly, your mouth kneaded as your eyes automatically closed again, wanting your sleep back.

“what is it?” you managed to say, your eyes still closed while his hand was still firm on your body, you felt small grunts coming out of his lips while his hips moved slowly against your ass, looking for some kind of friction, his hard cock against the soft skin of your asscheek, “lemme take care of this” he whispered.

“I’m tired baby” you almost complained, but rafe didn’t seem willing to stop, “i know pretty girl, i’m gonna do everything ‘kay? you don’t worry about it” he insisted, you could feel the despair in his voice and seeing him in that state for you made you feel the same way. “be quick” you said moving your ass on him, a grin formed on rafe’s face as his arm moved under your body, grabbing your tit in his hand.

he quickly lowered his boxers, his hard cock came into contact with your ass, his tip red and swollen desperate to release. he raised the babydoll to your belly moving the pair of panties you were wearing to the side, his tip pressed against your wet entrance as his hand gripped your ass. he squeezed a hand around the length directing his tip to push inside your hot hole.

rafe entered inside you slowly making you feel every single inch of his length stretch you, you couldn’t help but moan at the sensation while rafe behind you did the same thing, loving the way you felt around him. “just made for me mhm? nice and warm ‘round me” he praised you, his eyes closed fully enjoying the feeling of being inside you, slowly pulling himself out and then pushing himself back inside you.

his thrusts were deep but slow, hitting the right spot making you bite your lip. “lemme take care of you baby, go back to sleep” he whispered in your ear, but you weren’t listening at all, your mind still sleepy while rafe used your pussy to get himself off, you weren’t sure if it was a dream or it was really happening.

“mhm faster” you said feeling his cock throb inside you and despite the state in which you found yourself you felt needy for more, “i got ya” rafe pleased you, his thrust faster as the room filled with the sound of his body slamming against yours, his cock came out and entered quickly inside your wet pussy.

you let out a loud moan as rafe’s hand moved towards your clit, his fingers applied the right pressure moving quickly on the bundle of nerves causing your body to tremble, your hand tightened onto the pillow.

“fuuck soo good” your voice choked by the various moans as rafe squeezed your nipple, you moved your arm back wrapping it around his neck, pushing him even closer to you than he already was. you turned your face to him to feel his lips, the kiss was messy and sloppy interrupted by your continuous moans. “that’s right baby, squeezing me so fucking tight can barely move in here” his dirty words did nothing but bring you even more to the edge, arching your back meeting the speed of his thrusts.

“you there baby? give it to me” rafe incited you leaving sloppy kisses on your jaw going down to the neck, he could feel how your body was shaking and how your pussy was tightening around him that you were about to reach your peak. “i’m so close rafe” you breathed feeling a weight forming in the lower stomach, his thrusts faster and faster helping you reach your orgasm.

“go on, cream all over my cock” his words did nothing but push you even more to the climax and with a loud moan you let yourself go, your hand tightened around the pillow while you released yourself on rafe’s dick. rafe’s hand tightened around your ass, his thrusts slowed down becoming deeper, he himself was approaching his orgasm.

“gonna cum in this pussy, fill you up so good” you whined at his words, his still hard cock abused your overstimulated pussy, you could feel every single vein of his length pumping inside you and you almost reached your second orgasm. “I want it rafe” you said desperately, your voice low and tired, the sleepiness had amplified after the orgasm and in a few seconds you would fall back into a deep sleep.

“yeah? Imma give ya every single drop” he reassured you, his words trembling as he felt himself getting closer and closer. “s-shiit... that’s it” his voice choked by a loud grunt, he stopped deep inside you while his cock covered your walls with his hot cum. you were now almost asleep when you felt his liquid fill you and his low grunts behind you, you unknowingly emitted a little whining at the sensation.

after a few more thrust he reluctant pulled himself out, he emitted another low grunt at the loss of the sensation of your pussy holding him so tight. while he was putting his dick back in his boxers he realized that your breath had become deeper, now completely asleep.

“did so good princess, i love you” he whispered leaving a sweet kiss on your shoulder.