#they just look so good together it physically pains me

[mrs-kodzuken]

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter eight

bj lips love potions ft princess paparazzi

❝Undress me, caress me

I just want you to fuck me

My love can't take it no more

Gotta cast it on you❞

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Knowing that Kenma left you and didn't even send so much as a text message made you feel a bit queasy in your stomach. You both spent the entire night together, even with a few good days leading up to it, and yet he still went ghost.

To you, it made no sense whatsoever. From the beginning, you both started off on the wrong foot, and now, when you finally felt that everything was getting better, he goes off the grid.

There was a permanent frown on your face and a hurtful feeling in your chest when you came back to the shared apartment that day.

After checking on a few of your neighbors in the apartment complex and verifying that staying in them was safe now, you finally went in.

That stupid gas leak caused a really good night between you and Kenma, and you couldn't help but to let yourself smile as you reminisced about the few hours before.

However, inside the apartment was strange because there was no sound at all. With Kuroo gone with his friends and Kenma nowhere to be found, it felt eerie.

Turning on the living room TV for background noise, a couple lamps as well, and starting on baking a recipe that Kenma had shared with you, you finally felt better about being in here by yourself.

You never really enjoyed the silence, ever; it always seemed deafening and always made you feel a bit anxious and panicky.

When the kitchen timer declared the homemade sweet bread from Kenma's recipe was done, you tried it and wanted to meet the woman herself because it was beyond delicious.

You sighed, stopping your chewing. Being alone was fine, but you hated being alone with no one there to talk to or annoy either. You would've thought that being an only child would have prepared you to not feel this way and learn how to be by yourself, but it never worked.

Deciding to rot on the couch for a little, you grabbed your blankets and pillows with a good show put on, and little did you know, you were slowly drifting off to sleep.

You awoke after a few hours passed by; the TV was long off, having shut down by itself after so much time of inactivity. You felt hot—unbearably hot; the blankets you were cuddled up with earlier had damn near suffocated you.

The cool wetness of your clothes stuck to your legs and lower back.

Oh, how you hated waking up like this after a nap; it was frustrating and left you feeling woozy.

Getting up on wobbly legs, you made it to the kitchen to gulp down a large glass of water, and that's when you noticed the time. 6:00pm shined brightly on the oven timer; sleeping for the whole day wasn't something you expected for today, but it happened.

You eventually found your phone, ignoring every message that wasn't from Kenma or your parents. You groaned, throwing yourself back onto the couch, pushing the blankets down to the other side with your feet.

A dull sleep headache causing you pain, adding onto the fact that Kenma hadn't even sent you one measly text, had made it worse altogether.

Quite frankly, you missed him; you missed him a lot. You swallowed hard, not wanting to dwell too much on those particular feelings because you could tell with the way that your heart started to dully give off throbbing pains.

Deciding to distract yourself by cleaning was always a good choice to help you; it's always helped your mind because you were physically doing tasks.

After cleaning the living room again because of your mess, the kitchen, laundry, and bathroom were all done. However, you got curious yet again about Kenma's room and took your gloves off to push his bedroom door open.

It looks just like how it was last, but with him not home, you could actually look through his room and not feel his beady eyes on you watching your every move.

You got excited; the thrill of snooping through the bedroom of a guy you liked was a bit stirring. You've liked his room from the first time you went in, of course, and even the time before that.

You tip-toed in, having a feeling you might get caught if you don't hear the front door open. You look around, your heart basically in your throat. You loved the feeling of the thrill this gave you.

You first went to Kenma's bedside table; on the top there was a stray hairband, a hairbrush, and tissues, as well as a half-full glass of water. You raised a brow; that was seemingly normal enough; you cheekily smiled mischievously and opened the drawer.

You gasped when you saw a pack of condoms in his bedside drawer.

You hadn't expected Kenma to have those because you figured he didn't have a girlfriend. Your face heated up when you touched the box to move it and look at the other stuff in there. You saw some vitamins, daily supplements, and a few personal items of paper that you weren't going to touch.

Your eyes drifted back to his pack of condoms. Does he have one-night stands or something? The thoughts were endless, but you had to remind yourself that he wasn't your boyfriend, so whatever he did with those condoms was his choice.

With a sharp inhale, you exited his room, making sure you left everything just the way it was before you came in here.

Heading to your room, you decided to read for a little to pass the time. He would have to eventually come home, right? You would wait for him, wanting to confess your feelings; the more you waited, the more the anxiousness bubbled in your stomach.

Thinking about Kenma was easier than trying to anticipate when he would be home.

However, the more you thought about Kenma, the way his warm, larger frame felt against yours last night, and his eyes... oh, how his eyes became glaringly sharp when he’s pissed.

All of that causes the predicament you’re in now, with your hands between your legs, eyes tightened shut, and covers pushed to the end of the bed.

Your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans to no one’s ears in particular; you were home alone after all.

Your heat was throbbing, desperate for more than just the showerhead, more than the pleasure that you can get from your short fingers.

Being cursed with stubby fingers had caused a predicament that you could never reach that good spot inside of yourself, and so you resulted in finishing by playing with your clit.

You never thought that you’d actually be masturbating to the thought of Kenma, then again, you remembered that he did the same way before you both had developed this tension between you. You’d give anything to grind against him, to tease him for the way he’s treated you before.

You were losing it, back arching off your bed; your fingers worked diligently to help you aid in reaching for that orgasm you needed badly.

Kenma, coincidentally, was on his way home at 8:00 p.m. on the dot. After thinking about whether he would ignore this heightened feeling inside of him till he either A) moved out or B) graduated, he knew that he couldn't do that.

Safe to say that Kenma fell for you, and of course he already knew that deep inside but would never, ever admit it for something so dumb and petty that it physically made him cringe at himself.

Hoping to help aid in his apology, he bought you an iced seasonal coffee and a little sweet treat to help you not be in any negative mood towards him.

It was like he felt guilty all over again, thinking back to when he scared the daylights out of you and caused you a horrible nightmare. Only this time, he basically stood you up for an entire day because he wasn't certain about the feelings his heart was telling him, only due to the fact that they clashed with his mind.

Taking a deep breath and preparing for the night, Kenma unlocked the apartment door with his key. However, he was not expecting to hear loud, high-pitched moaning noises coming from your bedroom upstairs.

Kenma froze, the worst-case scenario coming to mind, which was that you were having an intimate moment with another person because you decided that he was waiting too long.

However, the more he waited to hear something to give off any details, there were no beds creaking or slamming against the wall, and there were no other moans/groans besides yours.

He was about to step out and send you a text that he was on his way because maybe that would dull the pink in his face, or maybe it would give him enough time to have his dick go down if he stood outside in the cold.

Before he could even open his phone, he heard a soft meowl of his name from upstairs, from your bedroom upstairs.

The mixture of chills and need rushed down his spine as he set everything down on the living room coffee table. Slowly making his way upstairs, you were unbelievable loud, yet he couldn't stop the feeling of wanting to hear more, wanting to see, wanting to feel.

Kenma tried to be as quiet as possible, the ache in his lower half becoming more of a nuisance by the second. His eyes almost bulged out of his head when he realized your door was halfway opened; no wonder he heard you so clearly.

Every light was off upstairs, with the exception of your pink lamp and TV that was playing a random show. It cast a beautiful glow on your skin as Kenma peeked around the corner of your doorframe; he hoped to God that you couldn't see the way he was being a pervert for you.

His eyes glowed with a need to please you; he watched carefully as your fingers were vigorously working hard to give you pleasure. His brows furrowed when he realized you weren't touching your hole at all.

That in itself made him curious; of course your fingers were wet; they even looked sticky, and Kenma wondered what your slick tasted like.

Kenma couldn't help but stare at you; he's never seen you naked before, and God, you looked fuckable, not to mention alluring with the way your body hypnotized him.

He stalked the way your body moved with every twirl of your fingers around your clit; your eyes were shut tightly, your other hand underneath your shirt, toying with your nipple.

It was an erotic sight, and Kenma could tell from the shallow thrust of his hips against his hand that he was bound to come soon. It was something so little, but watching someone like you in all your glory, he couldn't help himself.

He watched the slight ray of tears that were in your lash line; he wondered how long you've been at this and how long you've been without it. He knew with the way you started thrashing and your hips started to buck that you were going to come soon.

The moans you let out were so angelic, he wanted to break them so badly. With a few more thrusts and hearing his name on your lips once more, Kenma came inside of his pants.

After taking a few moments to catch his breath and collect himself, as well as getting one last peek of you, you looked so precious and worked yourself so hard because of him, and if he just owned up to his feelings, he could've done that for you.

Silently, going back downstairs because it would make too much noise to go into his room and change out of his pants and underwear for clean ones. Kenma decided to pretend he just got home and didn't just come to the sight of you toying with yourself.

With a few loud movements of his keys and the door shutting rather loud, he figured that was enough since your door was open after all.

Kenma tried to make himself seem normal enough, getting a drink out of the fridge and switching the living TV to something more so he would watch. However, ignoring the spurts of cum that were in his pants was a bit hard, as it felt uncomfortable after so long.

After a few more moments, you came downstairs, calling for him, and his body responded delightfully to your voice.

"Kenma? Are you home?" You called, coming down the steps. When you heard the front door shut, you rushed to get up and close your bedroom door and fix yourself as quick as possible.

"Yeah, I'm home." He paused, getting up from the couch.

"I got you a coffee and a muffin." He said, sounding apologetic, and you could only guess that he was apologizing for the ghosting shenanigans of today.

"Thanks, Ken... Where were you, by the way? I haven't seen or heard from you since I left this morning for breakfast. And then you just leave, shoulder-check me, and don't even say sorry." You asked confused, not liking this wishy-washy he was treating you with.

It hurt and made you confused in your own feelings, especially after masturbating to him.

Kenma's eyes glazed over as he was thinking of what to tell you.

“I'm...sorry, Y/n. I didn't know that I bumped into you, and for leaving without saying anything, as well as worrying you." Kenma sighed, not really sure what to say without saying that he likes you a lot.

You felt skeptical about his words, but there would probably be more later; after all, it was just the two of you here.

"It's all fine. I know you probably have things going on, and so I won't pester about it. I'm glad you're back though, I  misunderstood. Your eyes widened when you realized what you were about to tell Kenma—you've never told him that you've missed him before.

Luckily, your stomach grumbled, and that's when you realized that you haven't eaten since the hotel's breakfast this morning.

Kenma cracked a smile, which made your eyes light up at the sight. "Let's order in, okay? How does Mexican sound?" He asked with a smile, making your heart skip a beat.

You nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good." You were grateful for Kenma, not realizing that he always thinks about you. Whether you have eaten or need to eat, your needs when you get scared, and even letting you use him as a safe place when you're feeling that way.

As he ordered for the both of you, you started to feel guilty because he was being so sweet, and you were just upstairs masturbating to him. God, you really were the worst, you thought.

"Can you answer the door? I'm going to go change really quick." Kenma asked of you, a slightly disgusted facial expression showing. You furrowed your brows but nodded anyways. It was no hassle for you.

When the food got to the apartment, you both decided on a movie that wasn't scary nor a child's movie per his request and to which you rolled your eyes.

Settling on a romantic comedy, it was interesting as you both ate the food he ordered. Sitting side by side on the couch with the food on the coffee table, you both were close, and even then, you wanted to be closer to him.

Watching a romantic movie with Kenma left your mind open to roam about confessing to him; you wanted to desperately but was afraid of how it could backfire. Then you got into your head about whether Kenma really even liked you.

You didn't even realize it, but the credits started to roll, declaring the end of the movie, and you finally got the courage.

"Um, I like you!" You blurted out, turning towards Kenma, cheeks-tinged pink, and food left untouched because you were so distracted by your mind.

Kenma took a sharp intake of air and eyed your face. "Are you sure that's not lust?" He raised a brow, and you frowned at him, hearing your confession go unnoticed and deemed as lust.

"No, I like you, Kenma, like romantically and maybe sexually too, but I like you, alright?" You felt frazzled, trying to clarify that you had a bit more than a crush on him and then some.

Kenma's eyes widened like he didn't expect you to flat out tell him that either, "But I was mean to you when we first met, Y/n. Don't tell me you're into that." He trailed off, veering away from you for the effect.

You gasped, the blush coming back from embarrassment. "Kenma, no! My God, if anything, you're the one who's into that. I mean, if you requite my feelings, that is." You asked shyly, not wanting to assume but also wanting to desperately know.

"I do'requite' them; fancy word you got there." He chuckled at you; it made you smile. Knowing that Kenma actually likes you back was exhilarating for everything you both have been through together.

"Wait, so why did you hate me when we first met? I was so nice to you." You questioned, feeling more comfortable with asking him these questions, leaning in more.

He seemed to keep his calm though when you started questioning the reason behind his actions, "Because you're cute, sweet, and girly. I didn't realize I liked that, and you bustlingly about everywhere and adding your touches in the apartment made it feel more like yours too and not just Kuroo and I's. It was hard, I guess." He thought about it more, not realizing that you almost short circuited when he called you cute.

"That... makes more sense now. I was trying to be so nice, and then you were just mean to me. Then I got fed up and started being rude as hell; I hated that." You laughed trailing off, thinking back to when you had that mutual feud going on between you both.

"Yeah, I actually wished I hadn't been like that towards you. I really just wanted to get closer to you but didn't know how and decided to unintentionally belittle you." He grimaced at his own actions, hating the way he treated you.

However, it was refreshing to see this side of Kenma; you loved how open he could be when he wanted to be.

The night trailed on with the both of you confessing the small and big moments throughout the weeks from when you moved in. You found out about how your big nightmare was single-handedly caused by Kenma, except the rainstorm bit.

You listened intently when you realized he was confessing to causing you hurt; you felt like your heart was bursting at the seams because of him. It felt nice inside to finally be able to talk with Kenma about the mishaps between you both and forgive one another.

Yawning, tears pricked your eyes as you covered your mouth. You tried to find a clock to check the time, but your phone must've fallen into the couch.

"It's practically two in the morning. I didn't mean to keep you up so late; you should go sleep, Y/n." Kenma, yet again, was looking out for you, but you never minded though.

"I think I should; I'll help clean up though. I forgot this is your usual, staying up so late, I mean." You mentioned gathering the empty dinner plates and putting them in the dishwasher.

"Mostly yeah, but I'm tired tonight because I barely got any sleep last night." He recalled, scratching underneath his ponytail of his head.

"Oh, right, I forgot about that. I'm sorry," You apologized yet again after you found out you were the reason Kenma had zero sleep last night. He really went all out with his confession, but yet you still had a sense that he was maybe guilty about keeping all of that inside.

As you both headed upstairs, you were quicker than him when he turned off the downstairs lights. You were faced with an option. Now, Kenma wasn't thinking, nor knew, about this so-called option, but you made a choice.

"Ken?" You called from your room, gathering your PJs, because you already assumed what he was going to say.

Followed back was a "Hm?" from Kenma himself.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" You asked, more quietly now, as if you were scared of what he would say.

Kenma paused, and for a good second you thought he was hesitating. "If you're sure."

You smiled all giddy and quickly changed into a large night tee and shorts, as usual. After a speedy night routine, you meet Kenma in his bedroom.

This felt much more intimate than it did in the hotel for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that you both agreed to sleep in the same bed, or maybe that you both know a budding relationship might start, or even that you both have seen each other in such a vulnerable, alluring state already.

Climbing into the silk-sheeted bed, you felt like you were in heaven; not only did you feel like you were going to sleep on clouds, but Kenma even had a heating blanket.

"Oh my God, I love your bed." You commented, happily rolling around in the sheets as he was too busy checking his monitors and turning them off.

"Thanks, it's good for my hair since I dyed it back in high school." He half smiled from what you could see with him turned around. It felt more comfortable being around Kenma like this; it was easy and comfortable.

When Kenma climbed into bed as well, that's when all comfort went out of the window. His larger frame climbed over you so he could lay by the wall, his usual spot when sleeping.

Everything was quiet for a few minutes, and you thought that he may have already fallen asleep, so when you turn over to your side facing away from him and lay on your back, you hear him shuffle.

"So... how was your orgasm?" His voice seemed like it was coming from directly by your ear; your face immediately flushed red, but it was barely seeable since it was dark in his room with the exception of your nightlight.

"... What? What do you mean, Ken?" You tried your best not to stammer and make it as even as possible. You were sure that the front door had opened when you were already done, right? You wracked your brain but couldn't remember because the sleep in your eyes was becoming too much.

"You remember the hotel? I figured you didn't connect the dots because you're a little sleepy, but I didn't get a wink of sleep. You made a confession, did you not?" Kenma's voice sounded different—huskier, filled with a need for something.

You froze until you felt his warm hand snake around the bed to find your waist.

"Yeah, I—um, I made a confession at the hotel..." You closed your eyes, not wanting to deal with the shame of Kenma knowing that you spied on him while he was masturbating—to you after all.

"You're so dirty, you know that, right? Such a dirty girl..." He trailed, massaging your love handle, "But you liked it, right? Is that why I came home to you, pleasuring yourself to the thought of me?" You could hear an ever so slight chuckle underneath his breath. Kenma was toying with you. And you liked it.

"I'm sorry, Kenma. I didn't mean to spy; I just heard, and then went to go see—I'm sorry." You pleaded, not sure what for, until he turned you around, facing towards him.

"Shh, no worries, it's okay, Y/n. Can I kiss you?" Kenma asked, his lidded eyes staring in your wide, needy, dilated ones.

You nodded, not sure what to say other than yes; your heartbeat was practically in your throat as you shook your head yes. He came closer; you felt his breath on your lips before he closed the gap and touched your soft lips with his own.

Kenma parted your lips with his tongue, swiping at the entrance, wanting to explore the inside of your mouth. He's waited for this moment since he first fell for you, and savoring this moment wasn't enough; he needed to conquer.

A rough hand came to the back of your head as he pushed you closer to him, his tongue furthering deeper in your mouth. You couldn't help but to moan out into the kiss, using your nose to breathe instead of breaking it for air.

You could feel the wetness between your legs, and the heat in your core began to stir. Kenma got restless and started to grip your clothes roughly; his breathing was uncontrolled and harsh, like he had been waiting for this his entire life.

Kenma abruptly broke the kiss with you; you whined and fisted at his clothes for more.

"Stop whining, Y/n. I need to know if you want this; you do know what is about to happen between us if you want to continue, right?" His yellow, cat-like eyes stared hard into yours; you could tell Kenma was restraining himself after you worked him up so much.

"I want, I do want this... I just haven't done this before, though, with anyone." You admitted, hoping he didn't think you were lame since he had that jumbo pack of condoms in his dresser drawer.

"I haven't done it either; I just know what I want and can tell what helps you feel pleasured and what doesn't." He coolly said, a hand snaking under your shirt; his eyes glinted when he found out you weren't wearing a bra.

"Ah! But those condoms... in your drawer? I had thought that maybe you have already done this before." You trailed, not meeting his eyes because you just confessed to snooping around in his room without him knowing.

"You little peek." He chided and lightly pinched your nipple, "Those are from Kuroo, a gag gift from my birthday, actually." He smirked and started placing small feather-like kisses on your jaw.

He needed to get you worked up if he wanted to ensure that you were prepped right for him.

"God," he groaned into your neck, "I've wanted you so badly." He couldn't help but to leave little marks as well; from now on, you would be his.

"Me too; I've wanted you so, so badly, Ken." You whined, arching your back as he lifted your shirt and sucked on your nipples, effectively causing your thighs to rub against one another, ensuring that his plan was working.

You have never experienced something like this, and it made your body feel burning hot and your core throb. Kenma, on the other hand, was experienced to a certain extent due to the internet, manga, and having friends that are guys.

Either way, the achingly painful throb of your core demanded to be filled with every lick and slight tug of your nipples that Kenma was doing.

"You really like your nipples to be played with, my little dirty girl, don't you?" His groaned out into your ear, whilst his magic hands kept working their way on your tender breasts.

His hand snaked down to your panties, effectively slipping them off of your legs, the build up from his playing with your nipples was getting to you, making you extremely eager for the next stage. 

“Are you ready for this?” His piercing eyes couldn’t break away from yours as his middle finger slipped inside your wet heat. It was…strange to say the least, a low moan spilling from your mouth when you felt the pleasure of him moving his digit in and out of you.

His long finger was such a pleasuring break from your short, stubby ones.

Soon after Kenma watched your expressions precisely, he added another finger, keeping it simple as he could feel the tightness from even just that. Your face winced until he slowly started thrusting his fingers into your cunt, slightly curling them to prepare you for what will come afterwards.

“You’re being so good for me,” Kenma whispered, never taking his eyes off of the way your body started to join in with the rocking of his hand, your hips becoming in sync with how badly you wanted more.

Soon, your back was already arching off of his bed, the sight beckoned his dick, which was already painfully throbbing and awaiting your warm hole to fill. 

"Ken,” your voice came tumbling out roughly, “Oh God, I can't—I can't, plea—ah! Stop." You cried, the feeling of your usual pleasure was building in your core but this time, Kenma could reach that one singular spot which had you seeing stars.

His hands didn’t stop inside of you, and quite frankly you didn’t want them to stop either. With the way his thumb rubbed over your clit so lightly you were on the brink of an orgasm.

All of a sudden the pleasure failed to rush over your body, your hips jerked forwards, needing the movement that was suddenly stopped to start again. 

"No! Please! Why did you stop, please?" You could feel the orgasm dissipating inside of your abdomen, your cunt clenching his fingers inside of you that wouldn’t move. 

"Don't tell me to stop if you actually don't want me to. Now, tell me youre sorry, you brat." Kenma spat at you, you both didn’t have a safe word yet and so, Kenma had no choice but to follow your instructions and body language, he didn’t want a misunderstanding because you got overwhelmed with the toe curling pleasure. 

Heat of embarrassment rushed to your face but you hoped he couldn’t tell, “I’m,” you sighed hating apologizing when you knew you were in the wrong about this, “I’m sorr-” You were cut off once again when Kenma hovered his hot mouth over your clit, his digits continuing their bruising movements from not that long ago.

Soon, the rushing thrill of almost finishing came over you yet again and this time, Kenma let it happen. Your legs went stiff as your back arched, his tongue rolling over your clit and a high-pitched moan releasing from your throat.

Kenma slowly slid his fingers out of your cunt, tasting them when your eyes were closed. He didn’t want you to see how needy he was for you. With deep breaths and a few feathery light face kisses from Kenma, you opened your eyes. 

He was right in your face, staring at you deeply in emotion, “You did so well, I’m so proud. Do you want to stop?” There were no negative feelings in Kenma if you did want to stop, he assumed you were worn out already. 

“Huh? No, of course not. I want,” You paused, realizing how badly you still wanted to be filled, especially by Kenma. “I want more, please.”

Between the time of Kenma kissing you all over your face, he had taken his pants off. You stared at his cock, the angry red tip swollen with a need to be released. You gulped, eyes starting to become lidded with need just by looking at it. 

Kenma reached for his side table after letting you look at it, almost stopping to groan when his dick touched your warmth.

You couldn’t help but to arch your back as his dick twitched, “Can we…do it without the condom?” You flusteredly asked, hiding your face behind your hands, you were slightly grinding on his unprotected dick by now. 

Kenma raises a brow, skeptical about having his first time raw with you, knows he shouldn't, but when you’re being such a little minx, he just couldn’t disobey your request. 

“Are you ready then, Y/n? I’ll be very slow and listen to you.” Kenma promised, eyeing you as you allowed him to slowly enter inside. It’s a very damn good thing that Kenma had some patience, even though it was slowly deteriorating, because your cunt was so fucking wet and siphoned his cock into it. 

With a harsh gulp, he peered down at you, feeling the miniscule beads of sweat on his skin from the activity at hand. Your eyes were tightly shut and Kenma hated how your first time was painful while he wasn't.

Although, he realized that you were tense instead of relaxed and that effectively made the whole action hurt even worse.

“Y/n,” He choked out before taking a deep breath, “Y/n baby, you have to relax. It won’t hurt as much if you relax.” Kenma urged, for your sake and his, he was going to cream himself if you didn’t stop holding his dick hostage in your cunt like this.

After a slight head nod and no result, Kenma carefully leaned down without entering even more and started pressing light kisses to your tense face.

“C’mon, relax baby,” He mumbled, kissing your closed eyes, helping your body become more pliable instead of stiff. 

“M’sorry,” You quietly apologized to him, in which he denied that.

“It’s your first time, you didn’t know, baby.” He reassured you. 

With a few small words of permission to keep letting him sink into your cunt, Kenma fully, but slowly, sheathed himself inside of you.

The snug pleasure was overwhelming to Kenma, but he couldn't help but to prefer your pleasure over his. He decided to keep his eyes from rolling back, watching you as he very gradually rocked into you, watching his cock disappear into your warm, wet cunt.

His dick felt like it was going to burst any second, the ache in his groins was a hard fight to maintain and not flip you over to fulfill his own pleasure. 

That was until you started rocking your hips back to meet him, silently asking for more. Kenma squinted at you and stopped moving until you started whining at him. 

"Use your words,"  Kenma’s rough, mean voice came out. He wanted to hear you say it, you needed to learn to be clear when speaking to him about something. 

You hesitate, "I want more; it doesn't hurt anymore; it feels really good." You sigh in pleasure, feeling the fullest you’ve ever been because of him. 

A snap of Kenma’s hips clashed you both together, and like clockwise, the delicious noises fell out from your mouth, unable to be contained even by your hand. 

Kenma gripped your waist, entering you at a breaking pace, the tightness of his hands on you hurting in such a painfully good way. His cock pierced your insides and you found yourself meeting each and every one of his thrusts with the same eagerness. 

Not being able to keep his hands off of your body because the squish of your walls were pulling him in further, it felt like you didn’t ever want him to leave.

He leaned over you, trying to desperately attach his mouth to yours, the look of both of your eyes were mirrored with pure lust and attractiveness.

In less than no time, the toe curling sensation of a familiar orgasm rushed over you, trying to claim your body. 

“Ken, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come," you chanted loudly, rolling your hips faster against his, hoping to grind your clit against him. You fisted at the sheets harder when Kenma put your leg over his shoulder and rubbed your clit. 

Your vision became uncanny as white spots filled it when the crashing wave of the second orgasm of the night rushed over you. Kenma did not slow down or even falter for a second when your body started spasming, your cunt seized as Kenma’s moans finally spilled out as he kept going.

You, on the other hand, had accidentally stopped breathing with the overwhelming waves of pleasure hitting your body as if you were under water. The rush came unyielding as Kenma kept going; he noticed, and yet it made him harder and his dick eager to release.

"Haaah, breathe baby, c'mon breathe for me," Kenma urged, not able to stop his thrusts but trying to soothe your spasmodic state by rubbing your face and throat as gently as he could. 

To his relief, a loud, strangled gasping noise came out of you and Kenma realized that you were crying by now. 

God, seeing you like this in pleasure, your face beating red, and tears rolling down your cheeks was the tipping point. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum, oh God, I’m gonna—" Kenma desperately wanted to cum inside and fill you to the brim of his seed but knew that it wasn't smart to do, especially since this was the first time you both had sex.

His dick was tightening, becoming ready to spill his seed inside if he wasn’t ready to pull out. 

"In—side," You choked out, the pleasure making you feel light headed and leaving an airy feeling in your body, almost as if your orgasm never ended. Kenma knew better than to listen to you when you're drunk on sex. 

As his thrusts came to an end, they became sharper and more bruising, and on his last thrust, he pulled out quickly, almost missing, and came on your cunt.

His head was thrown back, groaning, as he rubbed his cock all over your pussy like a dog in heat, the last warm spurts coming out of him on you, which left you with a strange feeling.

Once Kenma was able to collect himself, he leaned down to you looking like you were out of it and not even here all the way. He pressed kisses to your forehead, feeling the dampness on your skin.

"Are you okay? Was I too rough?" Kenma worriedly asked, with a weak shake of your head, he got up ass naked, and all you heard was the bathroom sink running before he came back. In his hands were a cup of water and a wet cloth. 

"Let me clean you; I didn't mean to finish all over you down there," Kenma apologized, his ears turning pink as his usual self came back down to earth.

"Mmm, it's okay. I'm sorry for almost pressuring you to finish inside," you said sheepishly, realizing how bad it was and how horrible he would’ve felt afterwards if that did happen.

After Kenma cleaned you up, he put his shirt over your body, pulled you close, and turned on your favorite childhood show. You relaxed into his body, letting his hands roam all over you and massage the weak points of your body.

"I really enjoyed it, Kenma, thank you." You bundled your head down into the blankets, comfortable in the way he played your favorite show and the fact that his bed, obviously, smelt like him. 

"You make it sound like you paid me," he snorted from behind you, "But you’re welcome; now sleep, you're tired," and sure enough, you followed his orders.

Kenma went quiet behind you as he was relishing in the way your body fit against his, the smell of your shampoo, and the fact that you are in his clothes, which all eased his mind to a comfortable slumber.

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

a/n: hihi everyone! second to last chapter ;) i hope you've all enjoyed this so far <3

tag list: @geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur @3lectraheart @ookamiakasuna @22marie16 @jlly1 @aldebrana @kad0o @animechick555

@deftrow allowed me permission to make this/it's their idea from A03!! all i did was create a multi-chapter fic of it :) i made the banner!!

[writing-rat]

Gifts

Pairings: Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair

Warnings: Mentions of a taxidermy squirrel

Content: Gift giving, fluff

Summary: Wednesday and Enid arrive back after Winter break with gifts for each other, some more personal than others.

WC: 1593

Winter break had just finished and Enid was excited to go back. She could be away from her family, and see Weems again (who survived the poisoning but had a permanent limp). She also wanted to see Wednesday again as she had a gift for her. They had been texting during the winter break and she was happy about that. Wednesday still wanted to interact with her after all and that was her dream. She didn’t know why though and her mom refused to say. Esther actually tried to get Enid to date a worthy boy (who was an alpha each time conveniently). She rejected each one at least. She cited that Ajax was her boyfriend after all. Really, Ajax and Enid were not together. They broke up after a week but it was mutual, with no harsh feelings. Enid was relieved about that as she didn’t want to break his heart. That was when he admitted that he was starting to think he had a crush on Kent, and she was happy about that. She supported him after all. 

Eventually, the car stopped, and she grabbed her bags, leaving her family immediately. She saw the Addams’ hearse outside of the school and she was happy to know that Wednesday was already back. She rushed towards her room, ignoring the yell of her mother as she was soon skipping into her room, where Wednesday’s parents were. “Oh, hi Mrs and Mr Addams,” she spoke politely, Wednesday sorting out her clothes as her parents set everything else up. 

“Hello dear, how was Winter break? And please, call us Morticia and Gomez,” Morticia spoke with a smile.

“Yes ma- I mean Morticia. And winter break went as well as it could. If you don’t mind me asking… what are you doing helping Wednesday? I thought she hated it,” she asked. “Well… since that night, Wednesday hasn’t been the best. She is doing well, but she feels phantom pain. We want to thank you for saving our daughter though, how you wolfed out for her and we appreciate it,” Gomez answered, clapping his hand on Enid’s shoulder, who was smiling brightly. “It is no problem, she’s one of my best friends. I would do anything for her,” she spoke with a smile. 

“You are a good wolf. Do you plan on courting her?” Morticia asked curiously. 

“Huh?” Enid asked confused. “No. I don’t like her like that… I think. Why are you asking?” she added, wanting to know answers admittedly. 

“Well, when a wolf wolfs out for someone it usually means they’re soulmates. We have a couple of wolves in our family, so that is why we know if you are wondering,” Gomez spoke with a soft smile. Enid blinked and smiled then.

“Maybe, I don’t know if that is fully true though,” she spoke. The Addams accepted that, but Morticia knew how she felt. She had seen visions of Wednesday and Enid being together after all. The three made small talk, and Wednesday soon walked out as her room was mostly done. 

“Thank you, Mother and Father,” she spoke, looking at them. She looked genuine and appreciative. Enid smiled at that. 

She left the family be, finishing her own room as she hung her clothes up. She hid something in her closet, not wanting Wednesday’s family to see it. She saw them soon leaving, saying bye to her as she said bye to them as well. “Your parents are nice Willa,” she spoke with a smile when it was just the 2 of them. “Willa?” she responded. “Thank you, they… are,” she reluctantly admitted, answering about her parent. “They are still vomit-inducing with their physical affection,” she added, but she had a soft smile on her face. She was looking at Enid too, which made her see the happiness in her eyes. There was also some softness, which was rare.

“I thought I would give you a nickname. Do you like it? And better than mine at least. How was your winter break?” she asked, sitting on Wednesday’s freshly-made bed, Wednesday joining her as well. “I.. only say it in private, ok?” she asked. Enid nodded to agree. “And you can come over to mine for the holidays you know?” she asked. Enid also nodded at that, blushing that she had the pleasure of doing that. “Winter break was ok though, I suffered from phantom pains however so if I seem weird sometimes… I apologise,” she spoke. “But how was yours?” she added, realising she didn’t 

“It’s ok. If it helps, I have nightmares over the night. But my winter break was good. My mother tried to get me with some alphas,” she admitted. Wednesday physically growled at that, which shocked the wolf because it was so close to a wolf’s growl. “How’d you learn to growl like that?” Enid couldn't help but ask. Wednesday smirked.

“I would like to kill your mother if I have consent. But I learnt to growl from my werewolf cousin, I made sure it was perfected before he left,” she responded. Enid nodded and smiled.

“Wait here, by the way, I have something for you,” she spoke and skipped over to her cupboard, grabbing the wrapped-up presents. Grabbing it, she skipped back and handed it over to the goth. Wednesday blinked but opened it. There were 2 presents. One was a box, and the other was clearly clothing of some sort. Intrigued by the box, she opened it and that was when she saw what it was. She couldn’t help her shock. It was a taxidermied squirrel. “I went and hunted in my wolf form over Winter and I found this squirrel. I thought of you as I killed it. I made sure it was in one piece then I took it to a local taxidermist. I hope it looks ok,” she spoke with a soft smile. Wednesday nodded.

“It’s extraordinary, it is neatly done and well-preserved. Thank you, Enid,” she spoke with a smile, her lips curved upwards. “Open your other present dummy,” Enid teased with a smile. Wednesday glared but she was still smiling as she grabbed the other one and opened it. Inside was a knitted sweater, black and white. There was one little colour patch of pink. “I hope the pink is ok, I just wanted a little piece to remind you of me,” she admitted.  Wednesday smiled.

“I love it, thank you, Enid. You are the best, I will wear it with great pride,” she spoke, putting it on already. Enid was pleased.

That was when Wednesday crouched under her own bed and got out 4 parcels and handed them over. “I got a few things for you too. Admittedly I didn’t expect anything from you,” she admitted.

“Of course, I would get you something. You’re my best friends,” she spoke with a smile. Wednesday nodded then watched Enid open the first one. It was in a box and she didn’t know what it was. That was when she opened it and saw it was 6 books and they were all of Holly Jackson’s. She had talked about getting the A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder series but she never had enough money. There was that set, but there was also The Reapparance Of Rachel Price, Five Survive and Killjoy. All of the Holly Jackson books were there. “OMG, thank you, Willa! I love this,” she spoke and hugged her. Wednesday hugged back and smiled before Enid opened the other parcels. Inside one was a pink leather jacket. It was from Gucci which surprised Enid.

“I hope it is the right size. If not, I can get it,” she spoke. “You didn’t have to get me a branded item,” Enid spoke. 

“I know. I wanted to,” Wednesday answered. Enid smiled, setting it to the side carefully. That was when she opened the next one, a bat plushie. The next parcel was handmade by Wednesday clearly though. It was another plushie, but it was knitted. She loved it and it was also Enid’s wolf colour too. Wednesday was looking down, hoping Enid loved it. That was when she was tackled into a hug.

She was shocked, holding Enid back as tight as the wolf was. “Thank you, I love it,” she spoke, nuzzling into Wednesday slightly. “I am glad. I had my grandmama and mother’s help, it helped with my phantom pain too,” she admitted. Enid smiled.

“You are the best,” Enid admitted. Wednesday smiled, facing Wednesday who was just inches away from her then. She leaned forward slightly, their foreheads together. Enid was shocked, feeling butterflies in her stomach. She thought Wednesday would have the same too, but she would say spiders. That was when she realised Morticia may have been correct. Enid leaned in more, Wednesday soon kissing her. The both of them kissed gently, Enid smiling as she was blushing, soon holding her. 

“I think I love you,” Enid spoke. Wednesday raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“I think you do too. I mean, you did kiss me,” Wednesday teased. Enid smiled, kissing her gently again. “So… are we official?” she asked. 

“Of course we are, can you keep it secret for now though?” Wednesday asked, looking down. Enid nodded and smiled. 

“Of course. So… wanna go on a date tonight?” she asked with a smile. Wednesday nodded.

“There is a movie we could watch then dinner?” Wednesday offered.

“Perfect,” Enid spoke. She was happy. Maybe she would collect all her stuff from home and move in with the Addams if she could…

[perpetualjune]

a group of people should not be this gorgeous

[bmpmp3]

i do think its kinda funny when i see someone in the year of our lord 2024 talk about vocal synth music like its all gone downhill since like 2010 because like dont get me wrong i love a good niconicodouga-ass 2008 ass vocaloid joint BUT also like. the past couple years have had the most fascinatingly creative and expressive uses of vocal synthesizers ive ever heard in my life DJFSKHJDFS dont write it all off just yet!!

[pagesofkenna]

Just said "sheesh, Kenna, you're the smartest person I know" out loud while reading your tags on the FMA Truth and Ed's atheism post. Then I realized that Indiana probably doesn't care as much for this information as you might lolol

honestly i'd originally written a really annoying ramble about gods in fiction under that post and now i'm so glad i deleted it to write that much more succinct breakdown of my thoughts on the matter

[angelsfalling16]

...

[tonycries]

I Lasted Ten Rounds!

Synopsis. Marathons - they’re better in bed.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, marathon séx, major overstím, pússydrunk boys, CÚMPLAY, creampíes, mean Geto, squírting, innappropríate use of jujutsu (Gojo and Sukuna), pússy-slappíng, best friend!Choso, aphrodísiacs, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, BRÉEDING, making them cry, full nélson, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Hope y’all have a good leak day mwah <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 5 rounds

“Raw.” he breathes, and there’s a strained - almost whiny - shudder being wrenched out of Toji’s hulking body when he sinks inch after long, hefty inch into your plush cunt. Bullying past the barely-there resistance of that first ring of muscle with such a harsh tug of your pliant body down his swollen cock. “R-raw. You- fuck- you finally let me–”

No, it wasn’t the first time you let Toji fuck you into these silken bedsheets without a condom - that was a few hours ago. But that didn’t stop him from spitting out that same, strained accusation, the same greedy little push and pull of his toned hips smacking sloppily against your clingy pussy. 

He was addicted. 

“O-oh, Toji–” you’re babbling, swollen lips glossed with tears, thighs burning at just how long he’s been pounding into you like this. “S’already the- the third? Fourth? Or-”

“Fifth.” he’s cutting you off, with a hoarse chuckle - voice shot already. “Fifth n���-” Head lolling drunkenly into the crook of your neck, it’s all he can do to bite out brokenly, “-oh, my girl- hope y’know m’not hahhh- letting you go until I physically can’t anymore.”

Fifth, huh?

Oh, it was setting in - fuck, was he feeling it. You were so pretty underneath him, sweat-slicked body splayed out all shamefully for him, slurring words barely coherently. And Toji couldn’t even keep his eyes open, stars popping up behind his lids at every one of your velvety clenches, abs burning with each ravaged mash of his overworked, weepy head against your ravaged g-spot.

Fingers jittery where he’s hauling your body desperately to his muscled one. Clinging onto you so close - like a lifeline - that you could hear every tremoringly quiet ah! ah ah! following those long, solid glides, feel his happy trail scratching against your sluttily arched back. 

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good, that even after painting your gluey, sloshing insides white four times tonight already, Toji wanted more more more-

A bludgeoning knee comes down to shove your thighs spread even wider, spreading your puffy pussy lips so gapingly around his thick shaft. 

“Oh sh-shit.” he’s hissing. And Toji Fushiguro never stutters, he never throws his head back to let out such pained whimper like this.“Such a f-filthy pussy.” His pretty pink lips purse to spit a languid wad of his spit down on the bullseye of your slobbering cunt. The chilling dredges oozing a slow trail down your split-open pussy. “The fifth time- n’ y’pretend like this cute cunt of yours can’t handle more of me.”

“Ngh-” your teeth are clamping around one of the cushiony pillows, trembly fingers scrambling jerkily at the headboard, the plush mattress, anything- “You’re in s-so deep- feels like m’gonna pass out. How the hell are you still going?”

Toji rolls his eyes, acting for all the world like those whiny little words of yours don’t have his red, angry tip painting your insides with another honeyed coat of his sweltering precum. “Told ya not to hah- test me doll- just had to run that pretty mouth, huh?”

You’re keening when all five of his calloused fingers come up to smush your cheeks together embarrassingly, “Saying m’not gonna last going in raw- look where ya are now.” Toji’s craning his head to leave wet little kisses up your spine, your jaw, your forehead. Fully bending you in half to meet his lips, angling his riotous hips to graze his sensitive slit right against the swollen, bruised divots on your cervix. “Look where I am- I can’t stop.” 

And your hypnotized hips can only manage to give a last sticky heave meeting Toji’s drunken staccato before splaying limply down on the bed. Moaning around the lewd sucking of his lips around your heavy tongue. 

“No- no come back- shit, m’not-” He’s slowly losing control of those lingering thrusts, desperation bleeding into the way his big arms frantically circle around your weakening waist. Dragging you up, up, up like some glorified ragdoll, “How are ya n-not able to keep up when you hah- came up with the idea, ma.” And for all how gentle he’s being suckling on your pouty lower lip, one hand of his glides down easily to cup at your bulging pussy. Smearing in another quick, branding stream of saliva on your struggling, swollen folds spread so lewdly open around his thick hilt, “Ohhh, gonna make a man lose his sanity with a pussy this heavenly. Doesn’t seem so fair now, does it?”

That delirious little shake of your head makes him bare his canines in a grin, smiling at how utterly fucked-out you were on his mean cock. There’s a lazy, glistening trail of drool at the corner of your lips that Toji idles out his hot tongue to lick away, “Now now. Why don’t you- ah- use those words like a big girl, huh?” 

“Hah- didn’t-” those wet gurgles bubble at your throat, dying down after each harsh clash into your most sensitive spot. He’s reaching every nook and cranny inside of you - drilling cock expanding even girthier with each heady second. “Didn’t think you’d get so-” Another pretty glob of spit onto your cunt, “-addicted!”

“Well, what can I- hah- say?” Each taunting word is pushing you further and further up the bed, Toji’s tense hips hammering into you with no rhythm and rhyme now. Just lingering, mindless grinds chasing that painfully good smack! of his heavy, cum-filled balls at your ass, “When- ngh- when life gives you a wife this cute-”

You think he’s cumming - you think you’re cumming. But you can’t even be fully sure at this point, your own high nothing more than a few white-hot tingles, Toji’s overwhelmed cock straining to squeeze out a few more wispy strings of his milky seed. Until you were drenched in a silky coating down your inner thighs, beading pearly drops of his seed and your sweet sweet juices. To stuff you full even more.“-fuck her at least five times.”

“At- at least?”

Toji grins, “At least.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - As many as you can take (and a lil’ more!)

“My love.” Two soft pads of Nanami’s long fingers tap gently on your cheek, lingering when he lovingly cups your glossy pout. “My love.”

Biting your lip, you whine at his heated intrusion at your pretty cunt. Free hand thumbing open your soppingly wet slit to spread even wider around his thick hilt, scratching up so rawly against those neat tufts of blond at his sharp pelvis. “N’nothing, s’just that- hahh–” cocking your head to nuzzle his large palm, “You’re not- not tired, Ken?”

“Doesn’t matter.” he breathes, minty hot breath fanning your face when he leans in. And you think he’s going to kiss you - to maybe mouth away those big fat, overstimulated tears rolling down your face - but instead, Nanami’s stern lips wrap around your lolling tongue. Sucking. Moaning so depravedly. “All that matters is that- hngh- that–” Splaying out all five fingers on your stomach, pressing down hard where he can feel the divot of his very head, “-the mother of my future kids s’doing alright.”

He can feel that rotund clenching of your snug channel, the way your pussy grows increasingly more soaked with every stuttering nudge at your g-spot. 

When the heady bedroom air is only punctuated with a few sticky squelches from your cunt Nanami has to grit out - to force himself to speak. “Please-” hissing at the velvety silk or his seed swirling around your hole, it makes his toes curl, overworked balls squeeze achingly. Shit. “Give me an answer- please, darling, your cunt s’driving me insane. Fuck- I’ve- I’ve lost count at this point how many times I-”

At this, you can’t help but giggle. Reaching up to lick at the stray, glistening tear falling down his sharp cheekbone, “Are- are you crying, Ken?” The heels of your trembly feet curl tightly against the sinful dimples at the end of his spine, plunging him even deeper into the gloopy bottom of your pussy. “Can’t take any more?”

“No!” Nanami’s usually steady voice just cracks pitifully at the end. “No no no- just- hngh! I can take it- can give y’more. Anything for you, ma.”

Each of his hammering thrusts are slowly getting meaner. Slowly losing control. They’re haphazardly alternating between long, thorough slams of his entirely swollen length to mere jutting, half-thrusts - as if it just pained him to part with your clingy pussy more than that. 

And, shit, he’s so thick - so jaw-slackingly hefty when he twitches animalistically against all your sensitive spots. Gliding in solid, wet smears of his leaky tip against your cervix reminding you of the sheer strength he held. Fucking you so mean, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it - tired, fatigued body moving on animal instinct.

“Darling–” Nanami’s wet croon has you blinking away the lusty haze in your pupils, locking them with his own blown-out ones. “Eyes on me- have to make sure you can- ngh-” You can hear his jaw click with strain when you’re giving an experimental squeeze of your velvety cunt, “-m-me. Hafta make sure you can take it- you can take it, right?”

You’re gasping out brokenly, nodding in response to his question - thighs jittery and you don’t know whether you want to run or fuck yourself back down for more more more-

“Then why are you running, ma?”

Just as those billowing words leave his mouth, Nanami’s falling back onto his thick thighs, grabbing your body right along to seat you prettily down his brutal dick. It was devastating. It was sloppy how silky, stringy ropes of cum were rushing down in a glossy coat. Smacking so sluggishly down below.

“Wh-what?” you’re batting your teary lashes, jaw hanging open at just how much this didn’t sound like your usually gentle husband. Deep voice jagged, gutturally dangerous - he was talking to you in a steady, hard tone as if you were some prey. Setting his lewd sights on you to mash up even harder into your pretty cunt. 

He’s breathing out shakily in a way that told you he was getting close, thighs aching, red tip so angry and flinching in such a dizzy way. “Why- are- you-” The metal band of his gold wedding ring burns into your heated skin, digging possessively when he hauls you close. “-running away? Don’t- don’t think you can escape, darling.”

Those drenched silk sheets bunch up messily behind you at just how firmly he was halting your escape. “S’jus’-” you’re whining, in that syrupy sweet tone that makes him only grow painfully harder. Stiffening his back to drill copious inches, he’s tracing his fingertips back across your stomach. “-you’re in so deep. Think m’- hah, think m’getting close.”

“A-ah– of course you are.” he whimpers, tone lilting upwards at the end. It was just so stimulating how you were taking him so well despite being stuffed to the brim, overflowing in a creamy sheen. “Gotta- gotta get my pretty lady to cum- ngh! Breed her pussy full.” And oh, despite how composed Nanami seemed on the outside you could sense the waver in his words, the way his ruthless pace was evening out to something more messy. Untamed. “Make her the most beautiful momma.”

Brows knitting deeper and deeper every, it hurt - fuck, but it hurt more to not stuff you full until you were round and glowing. To leave even the tiniest chance of you being carried out of this bedroom without carrying his future kid. 

“You can do it- cum f’me.” It’s almost like he’s whispering to himself at this point, stamina withering. One hand of his guides your other own down from your searing grip on his unkept strands, down past his tear-slicked cheeks, down past his wobbly plump lips. Wrapping your fingers tightly around Nanami’s pale neck, forcing your nails to dig into the sweat-beaded skin. “Cum f’me- jus this once, because after this time m’not gonna be playing nice, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 7 rounds

“Shhh, gorgeous.” Geto’s hushed, smooth voice in your ear would almost be soothing, his large thumb gliding against the very peak of your puffed-up clit almost distracting- “S’all part of your special initiation.”

If it wasn’t for the rest of the cult standing behind those semi-sheer watching all of this happen to you, that is. 

Ah, you didn’t know whether that syrupy sweet idea of a special initiation - a rite of passage “just for you” - had you joining Geto’s religious association even sooner.  

Because here you were - your thighs burning with the relentless stretch of Geto’s forearms hooked underneath them, spreading you so fucking shamelessly towards where the countless others in the group were stood behind the covering around the creaky bed. A barely-there sense of privacy while he just ravaged you into the meanest full nelson possible. 

“Oh- fuuuck–” Geto’s groaning at your drunken little squirms on his cock, mouth salivating at the wet squelches being wrenched out with each pressurized thrust. “Just one more round now- come on, seven’s my lucky number. And y’wanna hngh- finish the initiation- right, pretty girl?”

His two strong legs plant even more vice-like on the absolutely drenched sheets, seeping into the creamy puddle of cum and honeyed slick spreading further and further each obscene second. 

That lolling nod of your delirious head has him crashing his sensitive, throbbing tip against your spongy g-spot, already so branded with the bruises of his divot. Holding back each whine after whine threatening to drag out from his throat when your swollen lips meet his in a sloppy graze of a kiss.

Shit, you were so cute - no wonder he had the fucking brilliant idea of fucking you like this. Even if it hurt - even if his achy cock was rubbing raw, over and over and-

“Aww, my pretty baby wants a kiss?” Geto’s leering grin only grows when he glides a dripping coat of wispy precum right across the back of your cervix, it’s so hot inside you - and you feel drunk off of every ooze of his cum from before, sloshing down in a milky white sheen. “Well not until you hngh-” He’s moving to bite down onto your earlobe, pussydrunk mind wondering whether your gummy walls were shaping around every ridge and vein of his shaft by now. “-cum f’me once more.”

“S-Sugu–” your eyes are rolling to the back of your head at the warm, wet cascade of his juices down your thighs, slipping and sliding you easily down his girthy length. “Don’t know if I- if I can cum- hah-” That admonishing smack! on your achy clit is taken in stride, gaping your gummy entrance even wider to swallow his every fucking inch greedily. “But- but I wanna. Wanna cum f’you so badly.”

There’s a muted shuffling from behind the curtains that have Geto’s darkened eyes narrowing in hostility, and he’s possessively turning his head to take in that sinful view of you down below. 

Shit- he could’ve almost came from just the sheer sight. The sight of your glisteningly puffy folds stretched to their limits around the creamy translucent ring around his thick hilt. Velvety walls contorting to massage his attritioning veins, grinding in thorough, purposeful gyrations against his heavily twitching balls. 

You were taking him so good.

And Geto’s never been more happy you couldn’t see the full plane of his face. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the mere sight, teeth biting down on his plump lower lip as if to draw blood. 

“Then do it.” Geto’s biceps just bulge against the small of your waist when they dig into a restraining loop around your body, pinning you down so helplessly to his sculpted front. “Cum f’me like a good girl then. Show me, show them-” The hand not rolling over your sensitive clit dips upwards to angle your face towards the still-watching crowd. His lips are drag so slowly at your heated ear, “-show them what a good girl you are f’me.”

Your cute, wobbly lips cry out in a broken little whine - and then your slutty cunt is just gushing down the entirety of Geto’s furious front. Slobbering a glossy, glossy sheen that coats his milky skin, syrupy and sticking - meshing your bodies so close together he doesn’t know where you begin and where he ends. 

”Good girl- good- hah- good girl.” Geto’s gritting out, trying for all the world to not sound as wrecked as he feels right now. Fuck, ignoring the spiking sensitivity, the stars behind his eyes to chase every little suck of your sopping wet walls, thighs trembly, eyes crinkling with such pathetically big tears. Shit, he’s pussydrunk. Only babbling out, “Ohhh- so perfect f’me, right? Even squirting- too generous f’me, gorgeous.”

It only takes a few more gasps from his ragged chest - heaves even. Delicately pink tip stuffing you so wholly full it’s like you’re about to explode, and Geto’s not too far behind. 

Not at all, in fact, with the way a final, harsh nudge against your springy cervix has him spurting out ribbons of creamy white cum. Oozing out in a thick, viscous polish that drools out of your bulging slit. Leaving a lewd trail of evidence where Geto’s fat cock was rummaging your poor insides. Over and over until he’s shooting nothing but blanks.

And it’s so hot, that you can almost feel it in your lungs. Limbs twitching mindlessly, he’s finding it easy to pull out - to display the gloopy filling lazily trickling out of you. Those slender fingers of his on your clit dance just downwards to circle the ring of your sloppy hole, swirling around that messy gloss. He coats his fingers until they just gleam in the dim lighting. Around and around. 

With a look of pure, unfiltered pride Geto clears his throat authoritatively. Jolting, you realize he’s not addressing you this time, “Everyone, say hello to your new second-in-command.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 6 rounds

Choso thinks he’s cumming - Choso thinks he’s crying, begging out such broken little pleas in your open mouth. He’s wrapping five pale, jittery fingers of his around the furiously red base of his cock, angling the bulbous head of his fat tip just right to press deeply into your greedy entrance. 

“Oh!” you’re smirking down at your best friend, biting back a wrecked moan at just how much he was stretching you, barely even reeling back at the brief resistance. His shredded patience can only wait a beat - two - more watching the snug channel of your cunt gush down in thick, hot streams of his seed from earlier, before bucking his hips up, up up- “Even five times wasn’t enough for you? What did I hah- tell ya about th-the-”

“I know I know, m’sorry, baby–” Choso cries, dark lashes batting at his cheeks when his eyes scrunch up into a pathetic bawl. “M’sorry I accidentally ate your- your ‘special chocolate’ but I fuck- it feels like m’burning all over. Like m’gonna die if I don’t fuck your cute cunt.”

And yet his bruising grip on your hips don’t waver, he’s still prying down your sticky body onto his, strong arms wrenching open your thighs to straddle him even wider. Still so needy - so hot all over with the itching greed to fuck you until one of you breaks.

Truly, it was a surprise to come home and find out your sweet best friend had raided that joke stash of aphrodisiac chocolate gifted by your coworkers last week - a welcome surprise. 

Because here he was - splayed out on your drenched silken sheets, big fat tears glistening across his cheekbones, toned body jolting so harshly at each one of your touches. So pussydrunk that you almost wondered whether it hurt, how his poor, overworked cock wasn’t fucking seizing at this point.

And even if it did, Choso wouldn’t complain - not one bit. 

“Please-” his breath comes out in a feverish puff, as wild as the fingers now toying with your swollen clit. Smearing the creamy dredges of his seed all over your puffed-up folds in tight little circles over and over and- 

Slam!

In a split-second, Choso’s hands are being pinned above his head. It would’ve looked almost comical - your much smaller ones restraining his own, fingers twitching animalistically with every sloppy drag down his pulsingly needy length - but oh, was Choso letting you. Letting himself be used like your favorite toy. 

“You’re being real greedy, Cho–” your teasing voice sends shivers wracking down his entire body. Powerful thighs bucking up in pressurized ruts up into your squelching cunt. “First you ate my- hah- secret stash, n’ now you’re being so hasty makin’ me cum.”

Each one of your words are punctuated by a sticky slam down onto his slowly-reddening pelvis, the fat of your ass being smacked with his sharp hipbones. You were riding him to insanity. 

“Yes!” Choso’s jaw hangs deliriously open, rosy red lips forming around your name again and again like a mantra. “M’so greedy- so greedy for your pretty pussy.” He whines, and just the feeling of your velvety walls milking his fat length for so long has his syrupy mess of a mind thrown into such a primal frenzy. “Can’t help it when you’re so heavenly, baby– K-keep wantin’ to fuck this cunt forever.”

The painful pull of your fingers weaving into his dark strands have him keening, latching onto the very tips of your sensitive nipples bouncing temptingly onto his face. “Can’t help it.” he echoes, swirling his hot tongue around your sweet areola, looking up at you with his gorgeously glassy, dark eyes. “Really can’t help it.”

There’s such a sickly, syrupy sweet staccato of Choso’s probing tip pressing deep into the drippingly wet g-spot inside you. And slowly - but steadily - your deft fingers find themselves dancing a path down to wrap around Choso’s heavily gulping throat. Breath hitching when they squeeze-

“Cum f’me, Cho-” he raises his lolling head up to meet yours, meshing back into a messy excuse of a kiss. Your teeth sink down to tug on his pouty bottom lip, fingers tightening, “Cum f’me- s’all to cure you of this chocolate after a-all, right?” 

At the reminder of that, his wrists try to wrench useless in your other hand’s vice-like hold. And honestly, Choso doesn’t know if he wants to cum again - he doesn’t know if he can. But the soft clingy feeling of your walls against his girthy shaft have him gasping, poor, overworked balls so raw. Tight and clenching painfully with every crashing push into your g-spot. He’s absolutely ruined. 

And both of you know it.

Oh, his head was so light now - your fingers vice-like around his pale throat. The only thing that Choso can seem to urgently choke out right about now is a honeyed, dragged-out drawl of, “Spit-” His wild cock leaking hot precum in another drippingly saturated wave everywhere, “Spit in my mouth, baby–”

And you do - that translucent wad of saliva barely hitting right in the middle of Choso’s lolling-out tongue before he cums. That ravaged divot on the very tip of his fat head stuttering out only one, two tiny beads of milky seed before he’s riding out such an addictively dry orgasm. 

Dewy eyes rolling to the back of his head, body sweat-slicked and clinging onto yours with creamy strings of cum and spit. So desperate when he’s fucking into you so filthy, pummelling you along the curve of his length like he was trying to drag out another milky stream of seed. Again and again and-

It takes only a split-second to break out of your hold - of course, it does - and you’re barely even registering it when Choso pins you back onto the sloppy mess of your soaked sheets. Hips still relentless, voice still ragged- “Think we’re gonna hafta hah- skip the dating n’ go straight to marriage after this, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 8 (and a half) rounds

If there was ever a time that the infamous king of curses would let out raspy little whimpers of his baritone voice - muscled just heaving deep gasps, looking at you all four eyes glistening with wet tears, hearts in his gaze - it would be right now. 

When the day sitting around his throne had been too long, when there’d been just a few too many scum curses groveling at his feet. 

When you were sprawled all prettily on his muscular, manspread thighs, your expensive robes pulled up just enough for that gummy cunt of yours to stretch open gapingly around his two matchingly rock-hard cocks. The plush of your ass on full, obscene display for him, limbs twitching with each swallowed-up inch down his fat, throbbing lengths. 

“Fuuck- take it easy, woman.” he’s hissing, powerful hip rutting upwards to skim his sensitive tip over the ends of your slobbering pussy. 

That has you pouty tearily, huffing out a low, “W-well- jus’ want you to hngh- be right-” Skittish fingers fluttering over to where you could feel him coating every hidden spot of your insides in his potent seed, angry cockhead bruising your taut channel more and more open around him. It was such a delicious stretch. And you’re pressing down where you can feel the divot of his head knock feverishly on your womb, splattering around milky dredges inside you, “-here.” 

Sukuna’s hips just surge forwards, like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. 

“Kuna- wh-wha-” you’re barely able to get out, whirling your head half-lucidly over your shoulder. But you don’t get very far - because one domineering palm hastily turns your face right back. “What are you-”

“No.” he’s letting out a strangled moan, leaving neat little indentations of his black, sharpened fingernails on your skin. “No you don’t get to- oh–” In a flash, sharp canines are digging menacingly right above the pulsepoint on your throat, and his hot breath fans over your ear. “Ah- y’don’t get to see me hngh- like this- fuckin’ embarrassing. I can’t even-” 

Sukuna’s cutting himself off by getting up onto two unsteady feet, holding you plastered so close onto his bowed body. The position is so precarious that for a second you’re worried, wondering how the hell the two of you haven’t broken any bones these past eight rounds. 

It’s his reversed curse technique, you later learn - but for now all you can do is gasp at your legs dangling in midair, spine arched back against his bulging pecs in a perfect arch, raising your head up, up, up and oh-

His eyes are aflame, glowing through the hypnotically dim lighting. Teeth bared into such a vicious grin one which only curls wider when you ask, “C-can’t even what, Kuna?”

He hisses down at the absolutely sultry look on your face - kiss-bitten lips falling slack into a soft oh! eyes half-lidded and miles away, your moans ringing through his ears like his favorite melody. “Heh- the fuckin- ah-” Another staggering push past your clingy sopping walls have him spitting out little swears, vision blurring dangerously at the corners. “-the fuckin’ audacity t-to ask me that, knowing what yer doing to me. S’pposed to help me relax but you’re hngh- driving me insane.”

You swear, you could feel his bulbous heads grow even thicker, expanding their way into contorting your gripping walls around his very shape. The even deeper intrusion has him throwing his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing with a dragged out moan of your name. 

A limp hand of yours dares to thread its way into Sukuna’s, tugging - pulling, “Look at me, please–?” And when he finally does - though, not before punishing the curve of your ass with such a stinging smack - you smirk, “Look so- ngh! pretty when you’re ruined like this, Kuna.”

That makes him falter - it makes his eyes grow just a bit wider, the insides of your elastic cunt being inflated open with another fresh wave of his furiously leaking precum. 

“Don’t-” Sukuna clears his throat of any traitorous dredges of a whimper, “Don’t push your- your luck, brat.”

But he couldn’t hide the fondness in his tone, that tiny little drawl of a whimper in his words. Heavy, pink lashes clumping up together with his overstimulating tears. It only takes a few more solid rams into your sweet hole - milking the bloated ends of his lengths for something delicious - a few more sharp, branding slams of his curving balls against your cunt. So large and aching for release that when they do, the sheer volume of Sukuna’s cum makes you dizzy.

Double the amount. It overspills, splattering half the thick, silky contents onto the decadent throne room floor. Soiling a sinful little puddle that he just can’t help but smile at, tutting mockingly, “Now now, look what you’ve done- making things even- hngh! even more stressful f’me now with this to clean up.” 

Out of his four beefy arms, two of them pin your own easily behind your back, the other dipping down to roll your puffed-up clit between his thick index and thumb. And the last one- fuck, the last one was pooling all the milky white ribbons of cum slobbering out of your stretched-out entrance. Velvety spurts dousing your walls once more - and he’s having so much fun, molding out your gummy cunt around to squeeze his fingers right in-between his two cocks. 

Still rutting into you - still cumming from both heads - every jackhammering thrust sparks stars behind his eyes. Back muscles curving deeper and deeper into you when he replaces every dredge of cum oozing down your saturated slit with a new one. The thrumming hum of his jujutsu making you keen-

“So messy. Such a filthy cunt my woman has-” he sighs, in a dark little way you knew meant he was just seconds away from tearing you apart. “Hmmm…wonder if it’ll be more relaxing. if I cum dry?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - RIP.

The strongest looks up at you with big, teary blue eyes, long lashes twinkling his pretty cheekbones every time he’s batting them. “Please. Just the tip-”

“Toru-”

“Please.” Gojo whimpers out, two of his massive hands laying at rest on the curving globes of your ass. Squeezing. Kneading you desperately in shallow, lazy grinds up and down his furiously leaky cock, “Please, sweetheart, don’t think I can handle cockwarming.” His abds are aching when they flex upwards towards you, “Haven’t had my hngh- fill just yet.”

You’re gasping when he has the audacity to give your plump clit a sharp smack! the pressurized buzz of his jujutsu from earlier sending white-hot electricity running down your arched spine. Splaying your cunt so deliciously to massage against your bulging g-spot. “N-nice try.” you grit out, legs trembling at the feeling of his thick, potent cum sliding out of your surprised entrance. “But I don’t think you’re ready- you’ve already set the lights off with your jujutsu being overstimulated, Toru.”

“Jus’ the tip- m’kay? Just the tip, I swear-” If you were of a clearer state of mind maybe you’d have pointed out that Gojo was well past the tip at this point. Feeling his fat head curve at your womb, knocking in a merciless, methodical pace. “Just missed you so much today- hah- gotta make up for lost time.”

He flashes you a devilish grin - one you’re somewhat ashamed to admit has your sopping cunt drip down a fresh sheen of your sweet sweet juices down his curvaceous length. Pooling at his frantically, painfully squeezing balls. 

And Gojo notices - of course, he does - even with his six eyes getting a bit too bleary right about the eighth? ninth? round. Ah, fuck, it didn’t matter anyway- 

“Then- then that’s good, isn’t it? Lights out- across all of hah- Tokyo, I bet.” His wretchedly strained tone is so different from the incessant pace of his bullying cock. Bludgeoning deep into your most secure spots, he’s nudging apart every velvety crevice of your walls, making such a mess of the creamy white seed of his dripping from the inside. Gliding his nose up the sweat-slicked column of your throat, “So really- we have nothing better to do. How about you- hngh- let me paint this pretty pussy white all over again?”

Of course, you wanted him to - but it was so fun how your barest tease makes Gojo fall apart. Pouty lips running a mile a minute.

His words are almost sleepy, and both of you aren’t even lucid enough to do anything about the ever-spreading puddle of cum and slick right below you. Meshing your lips drunkenly in an intoxicatingly sloppy kiss, “Come onnnn–” he’s babbling at your pointed silence. “One more? M’begging- begging, sweetheart. You got the strongest on his ah- knees n’ unable to use his powers.”

You knew so many people - so many curses - would kill to have Satoru Gojo all helpless like this. His lips moving faster than his overstimulated mind right now, drool dripping down the side of his rosy red mouth. So sensitive right now - unable to fight back. The only show of his previous prowess of strength being a stray flicker of blue lightning at his eyes when you’re cushioning his fat length with your clingy walls just a bit too hard, 

He’s heaving now - gasping deep, lungfuls of air every time his bruising grip is just bouncing your pliant body erratically down onto his. Wreckless, lunging slams that have your knees weak, stars flickering behind your lids. 

“Come on- come onnn–” He spits so syrupy sweetly into your panting, open mouth. Slender fingers wrapping around your clit, and it just throbs with the steady hum of his reversed curse technique. Stopping the two of you from breaking bones - because shit, how the hell is Gojo going to fuck up into you like an animal. Desperate little pleas of yes! yes! yes! wrenching from you at the stimulation. “Give it t’me, missed so much when you were gone out today. Please-”

“Hngh! S’too- too-” you’re drawling out incoherent sentences to match his. “Yeah- fuck yes- jus’ like that, Toru–” 

It’s only because of Gojo’s ungodly stamina that he was even able to last this long - the fact that he hadn’t fucked himself into a stupor at this point. And that’s the only thing, along with a few fumes of his reversed curse technique that have him careening smacking away your pathetic attempts to meet his thrusts.

The sensitivity too much, that he’s bawling - unable to handle the saturated drags of your slobbering pussy down his raw shaft. Mouth lolling open when you feel two big arms circle around your waist, mumbling tearily, “Wait- fuck hold that- think m’-” Like something snaps in the air.

Because then he’s cumming - at least, Gojo can feel himself cumming. This time, there’s no shattering of lightbulbs, no gleaming power in his pupils, because his poor body was too fucked-out for this. Too tired to do anything but have his heavy, strained-out balls just clench, shooting up wispy blanks into your readily swallowing pussy. 

“Oh!” he’s throwing his head back at the sheer overwhelming pleasure, beading out only a few, pearly little beads of sticky seed. But fuck, was Gojo riding out his high - riding out yours. Fucking you through each convulsing little clench of your silky cum-slicked walls, a high you’ve barely even registered still. “I don’t- I don’t know if I-”

“Don’t, Toru.” you warn, but it’s too late - only one, fleeting glance at your prettily stuffed pussy, the creamy little outer ring on your entrance, the way your puffy folds are just quivering like you’re in need of more - has Gojo intaking a sharp gasp. 

His wrecked eyes widen, looking almost afraid. Breath hitching, his words are shrill - barely audible, “Think- think we haven’t made up for lost time yet, sweetheart.”

“Toru, I was gone for five hours.”

“And?”

A/N. Gojo nation will we get a comeback today plsplspls?!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[pogueprincess]

The Albatross

summary: Originally an unlikely match, you give birth to Aegon’s first child and his entire world changes.

pairing: Aegon x Strong!Reader

word count: 767

warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, brief mention of blood, guilt.

note: “Albatross” is used metaphorically as a psychological burden dealing with shame or guilt! (and shout out to Taylor Swift)

Aegon wanted to hate you. He wanted to hate your hair and your eyes. Your thick eyelashes, the freckles that dusted your cheeks, the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. Despite wanting to hate you in your entirety, he found himself physically incapable of doing so. As a young boy he refused to admit it, even going so far as to tease you for your features — but he thought you were beautiful. If anything, you could’ve resembled his mother more than a Targaryen.

It wasn’t your features that were wrong, but who you inherited them from; you and your brother’s served as living, breathing reminders of Rhaenyra’s infidelity.

Alicent Hightower had been sure to remind him and his siblings that you and your brothers were a product of their older sister's infidelity. An embarrassment to the family. An insult to the crown, to the realm. Abominations. Bastards.

Screams of pain shook the walls of the Red Keep.

“I can’t do this anymore, Aegon! Please make it stop, it hurts!” you rasped, clawing at the blood-soaked bedsheets. It had been almost 24 hours since your labors had begun. To everyone's surprise, Aegon had yet to leave your side.

“We’re almost there, my love. You’re doing a great job,” your husband encouraged as he placed a chaste kiss to your sweat-drenched forehead, which you only returned with a death glare.

“I cannot take it anymore! Just get it out! Cut it out if you have to!”

One of your handmaids tried to dab at your forehead with a cloth, but you gripped her hand forcefully.

Aegon gave her a sympathetic look as he got her out of your grasp, locking his fingers with yours.

“You know we can’t do that, my love. I will not risk losing you.”

You winced as your midwife slid a finger around the base of your opening. All day long you had been violated against your will. Childbirth was not only painful, but humiliating. For Aegon’s sake, you silently prayed the babe was a boy. You weren’t sure if you would be willing to go through this again.

“I can feel the head, your grace. Just a few more big pushes for me and the babe will be here.”

You groaned loudly, your teeth grinding together as another contraction wracked your frame. Pain radiated down your spine and into your groin. You felt like you were being ripped apart at the seams. Being eaten by Sunfyre seemed to be a more pleasant fate than this.

“You hear that? You’re almost done. You’re doing so good.”

You squeezed onto Aegon’s hand as hard as you could, pushing with all the strength in your body. The harder you pushed, the sooner it would be over. You needed it to be over. With a final push, your vision began to blur and your mind went blank.

Before you knew it, loud cries pulled you back to Earth, and coo’s from your handmaidens filled the room. You laid back with a sigh of relief.

Finally.

The handmaids quickly handed the babe to Aegon so you could get cleaned up.

“A girl,” she stated proudly, “and she looks just like you, my queen.”

“Like me?” You shot up.

“Lay back your grace, you need to relax,” she scolded you.

Throughout your pregnancy there was a fear in the back of your mind, that if the babe inherited your features that Aegon would be disappointed. Turns out, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Yes,” he chuckled, tears swelling in his eyes, “like you. She is absolutely beautiful.”

He placed the baby in your arms, smiling down at the two of you.

A wave of guilt had crashed over Aegon at the sight of his newborn daughter. As well as your initial reaction to her looks. Thinking about the torment you endured for those same features in a world full of violet eyes and snow-white hair. How could he have been so cruel to you for something so fickle?

He couldn’t help but think about Ser Harwin Strong. And the fact that he probably shared the same thoughts as him the first time he laid eyes on you as a babe. This baby was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and the thought of anyone making her believe anything else made his blood boil. He would simply not allow it. Anyone who even dare whisper a word regarding your daughters features would lose their tongue for it.

Although the responsibility of sitting the Iron Throne loomed heavy over Aegon’s head it wasn’t until this very moment that he had true reason to be motivated to rule: his new family

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[bi-writes]

ghost is off limits. not just emotionally or romantically, but physically. you have seen the aftermath of when someone so much as bumps into him or brushes past his arm in a tight hallway. they learn very quickly that lieutenant riley isn't to be touched, not even a little, not at all. (18+)

ohhhh but not for the medic. your touch is clinical. necessary. ordered. ghost glares, but he does not tell you to go away when you make your way into captain price's office. it's late; they just touched down not even ten minutes ago, exhausted and burdened by an op that took a few weeks of their absence.

he smells like sweat, like grime, and you can taste the sand in the air when you take a seat next to him. even seated, he is taller than you. he takes up a ridiculous amount of space, dwarfing the office chair he sits in. you set your kit down on your captain's desk, turning to face your lieutenant.

"uhm...could you show it to me?"

he huffs in annoyance before he pulls his tactical vest over his head, tossing it onto the floor. you swallow, blinking, focusing, as he unzips the jacket he wears and lets it fall at his feet. your lips part a little as he reveals the strength of his arms, tight muscles straining against the shirt he wears and showing off the sleeve of ugly military tattoos that are sunburnt along one arm.

gorgeous, giant man, but then your eyes take interest on the nasty gash along one arm, a jagged wound that stretches nearly from shoulder to elbow. it looks angry and irritated, much like the look in his eyes.

when you put your hands on him for the first time, he flinches. not because he is in pain, but the feeling of skin against skin is so foreign, like a wound of its own. you blink up at him, soft and sweet, and you show him your hands, what you're doing with them.

"just going to clean it out and stitch you up, lieutenant. promise i won't take too long."

but he likes it. the way your soft palm cups his scarred forearm, running a cloth over the lines of blood that trace along the length to his wrist and drip onto the floor. the warm drag of your fingers pushing his skin together so you can hook the needle through and stitch him up solid and effectively. those easy, gentle strokes, threading through skin as you would hem a skirt, a pattern that you have not forgotten that is now being weaved onto his very body.

he'll wear your stitch pattern like a patch he has so dutifully earned. and you will wear his marks just the same, yes she will, the good girl that she is.

when you finish, he grunts, flexing his fist to gauge the tautness of his skin and the way the wound burns as he stretches his arm. he tilts his head to the side, glaring. your hands rest easy there, still pressed up against him, and he nods at you expectantly.

"open y'r mouth, sergeant."

and you do. because he's your lieutenant, and he has given you an order. he hikes his mask up, revealing a disgusting grin and the sharp edge of a torn lip, a face mangled beyond recognition. when he spits in your mouth, he tastes just as you expected--like sand and smoke.

"now swallow."

and you do, but not because he's your lieutenant, it's something else, something more. not afraid, but intrigued, somehow not put off, but needing sustenance.

when he crowds you in the infirmary later that night, you don't understand. you don't understand the sudden need to touch, the way he grips your ass, the nasty way he bites at your jaw and pushes your pants down your thighs and puts his cock between your thighs.

he promises he won't fuck you, promises he'll be nice this time, but it's hard to discern between reality and heaven when he lets the tip catch on your clit with every frantic stroke. you squeak with every rough thrust, pressing your ass against his pelvis as you arch your back, wanting to see his face, wanting to kiss him, wanting to make this tender and soft and a little romantic, but that isn't ghost.

ghost is mean. ghost isn't a giver, he's a taker. ghost is made of sharp edges only, broken glass on all sides, it's such a shame his cock is so nice and so big and so good, lieutenant, please, i need it--

"need more," is what you beg, even though you know he can't give it to you. you know, but he does it anyway, he slips a big hand between your thighs and opens you up, and you cry when he finally sinks deep, hoisting you up, your back tight against his chest as he learns how quiet the voices in his head are when he's so deep in your pretty, pretty pussy.

he slips another hand around your throat, baring it, giving himself room so he can bite at your neck and lick over the salt and brand you with the evidence of the reprieve he refuses to give, but you don't care, all you can do is smile.

you know his secrets now, the things he would never tell, the things he can't say out loud.

it's almost frightening that you don't really care if he has to kill you to keep you quiet.

[astonmartinii]

ice, ice baby (literally) | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x raikkonen!reader

the ice man may have never spoken, but his daughter never shuts the fuck up

based on the request from @blue-skyandstars

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel and 783,409 others

yourusername: taking names and kicking asses (and getting all assignments in on time with an appropriate amount of ass licking)

view all comments

user1: i love how she is so clearly kimi's daughter

user2: the only two blondes that don't freak me out

user3: insert that paris hilton clip "can i have two more of these little blonde bitches?"

maxverstappen1: what's an appropriate amount of ass licking and can i demonstrate on you?

maxverstappen1: wait! who said that?

yourusername: in your dreams car boy

maxverstappen1: trust me i see you in my dreams all the time

yourusername: so that's why you're always in the shower when i call you in the morning....

user4: i'm new here, are they together?

yourusername: wouldn't you like to know weather boy

maxverstappen1: she's actually my sleep paralysis demon, sorry to say

user5: they're so unserious

kimiraikkonen: keep those studies up i'm paying the bills

yourusername: i promise to use my status as a nepo baby for good papa 🫡

kimiraikkonen: proud of you.

user6: we love a self aware girly

user7: the raikkonen household really is the best balance, a guy who acts like talking causes him physical pain and a girl who couldn't shut the fuck up if she tried

yourusername: no way i'd rather it be

charles_leclerc: how many versions of that shirt do you have?

yourusername: enough...

charles_leclerc: and i'm the one who is a threat to national security when i go shopping

yourusername: that trouser collection should get you on some sort of list

user8: all these f1 drivers in her likes and comments and she's not cuffed... why is she fumbling so bad

yourusername: am I fumbling or are THEY?

user9: expose the dms please

yourusername: that would not be pg13 soz!

maxverstappen1

liked by kimiraikkonen, landonorris and 1,094,556 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: oh look who decided to come back

view all comments

user10: max is so annoyed that she decided to go to school in the us that he makes all american fans lives hell by winning all the races

user11: so true of him

landonorris: matching books? you're such a simp

maxverstappen1: is a man forbidden to be in a book club? who backwards of you lando

yourusername: just because you can't read, don't take it out on us

landonorris: i can read!

yourusername: name the last book you read

yourusername: and that doesn't include searching your name on twitter

landonorris: can you go back already, you're so mean

yourusername: don't come for our two man book club if you can't handle the smoke

maxverstappen1: what she said

user12: i love how spring break starts and y/n doesn't even go to see her dad, straight to max

maxverstappen1: kimi is coming! i am NOT a bad friend who deprives y/n of her dad

user12: you're also scared of kimi

maxverstappen1: i'm also scared of kimi

danielricciardo: you're in my building and i don't get any baked goods... i see how it is

yourusername: as if max is allowed to eat them anyway they're for dad

danielricciardo: i promptly take back anything i've ever said

user13: max has got to be down bad to have that much baking equipment in his house when it's canon he can barely cook eggs

yourusername: if he wanted to he would

user14: is this confirmation?

yourusername: i hope those are paper straws you're grasping at

maxverstappen1: why wouldn't i make sure i have the equipment to get my worker bee to make me sweet treats (don't read that rupert)

user15: i'm on to you two ... there's something shady going on here

sebastianvettel

liked by kimiraikkonen, maxverstappen1 and 1,209,409 others

tagged: yourusername

sebastianvettel: she's too old, i miss when she was a nice and polite child

view all comments

user19: annual god father seb appearance

user20: y/n please work your magic to get him to a race this weekend

yourusername: i'm working on it! watch out for suzuka

user21: the people's princess truly

yourusername: rude! i am a very polite young woman 🙁

sebastianvettel: yes you are, but also when you were ten you didn't bother me with your love life

sebastianvettel: and you weren't so fussy with food

yourusername: I AM NOT FUSSY I JUST HAVE AN ACQUIRED TASTE

sebastianvettel: you asked me to uninvite lewis to our dinner plans because you "hate that quinoa shit, i'm hungry enough to kill a horse with my bare hands"

yourusername: and i'd say it again!

lewishamilton: first of all: rude. second of all: i knew there was a reason you and max get on so well - BLAND

maxverstappen1: just because my food doesn't turn my shit green or couldn't accidentally be sold in the rabbit section of the pet store doesn't make me BLAND

yourusername: i don't trust a man who makes non-alocholic tequila THE FACT IT GETS YOU DRUNK IS THE BEST PART OF THE TEQUILA ONLY WEIRDOS DRINK TEQUILA FOR THE TASTE

lewishamilton: gasp! you said you liked it!

yourusername: i try to be supportive okay :(

user22: well that was something

user23: max always coming to the rescue ... makes you think

charles_leclerc: i am sensing some blatant favouritism here

mickschumacher: i never get invited on baking weekends :(

yourusername: snooze you lose ladies

sebastianvettel: this is exactly what i mean y/n

yourusername: my bad! i'm sorry my god father loves me more than you :p get well soon

sebastianvettel: that's not-

charles_leclerc: consider yourself in beef

yourusername: it's on babe

user24: gosh i'm so confused WHO THE FUCK DO I WANT TO GET WITH HER

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, kimiraikkonen and 809,445 others

yourusername: boy, oh, boy am i ready to finish this semester

view all comments

user26: i see tulips i do deduce that they are from max verstappen 🤓👆

user27: i hate you invasive leeches (i believe this and it is now my personal headcanon)

maxverstappen1: SEAT BELT PLEASE

yourusername: i swear i did 😫

maxverstappen1: you need to protect the precious goods

landonorris: you never tell me that 🙁

maxverstappen1: you're not precious goods, hope this helps x

landonorris: i see how it is

yourusername: don't hate the player, hate the game lando

user28: they've either got the single most flirtatious friendship ever to exist or they're together

user29: if they are just friends and those flowers are from her actual gf - i am not being dramatic but i would take a long walk off a short plank

user30: i feel like they'd be the ultimate cockblocks for each other 😭

kimiraikkonen: proud of you bub

yourusername: i am losing hair from academic stress i hope you're happy papa

kimiraikkonen: i am 👍🏻

yourusername: i am losing hair - LOSING HAIR THIS IS A BIG DEAL YOU PAY FOR MY APPOINTMENTS

kimiraikkonen: you need a college education so you're not wasting all of my money - i also pay your sorority dues so be nice to me

yourusername: i'm tired let me be the low effort nepo baby i am meant to be

user31: can kimi raikkonen pay for my hair appointments too?

jensonbutton: is that MY CAR?

yourusername: you put me on the insurance?

jensonbutton: yeah for when your car was in the shop - i thought shelby was still in my garage?

yourusername: not to victim blame but having so many cars you don't notice one is gone, that's on you

jensonbutton: @KIMIRAIKKONEN YOUR KID STOLE MY CAR

yourusername: britt gave me the keys !!!!!!

kimiraikkonen: you got duped by a 21 year old, that's not my fault

user32: kimi when y/n jokes about dropping out 🤨 kimi when y/n steals one of jenson's cars 🥹

maxverstappen1

liked by kimiraikkonen, landonorris and 2,305,689 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: ice, ice baby (except you're smoking hot)

view all comments

user35: WHOOP WHOOP LET'S FUCKING GO

user36: max already having the approval of kimi, that's my king

maxverstappen1: make no mistake i went to the raikkonen household with many offerings before i asked for his permission

user37: and if he had said no?

maxverstappen1: i would've asked y/n regardless 🫡

kimiraikkonen: 🤨

maxverstappen1: uh? i'm digging my own grave but i love your daughter so that's all the matters right? RIGHT?

kimiraikkonen: 🙄

maxverstappen1: WOULD IT KILL YOU TO USE THE KEYBOARD I'M HAVING A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN HERE

user38: the way max got given approval on live tv with more words than we've heard from kimi at any point in his career and he's still a shaking mess

user39: anxious girl representation

yourusername: you melted this icicle

maxverstappen1: eh i think you've always been a softy

charles_leclerc: like softserve ice cream? shop @lec now!

maxverstappen1: do you fucking mind?

yourusername: really? on the post of my boyfriend professing his love?

charles_leclerc: god forbid a guy chases the bag (also he called you smoking hot, that's hardly a profession of love)

maxverstappen1: you little rat

yourusername: lifetime supply of lec and a flavour named after us and consider yourself forgiven

charles_leclerc: i don't need your approval that much

yourusername: @kimiraikkonen @sebastianvettel you seeing this shit?

charles_leclerc: fine... weaponising your dad and god father is a low blow

yourusername: also! i love you baby - thank you for putting up with my constant yapping xx

maxverstappen1: i love you even more, i can't wait for you to finish college so i never have to share you ever again

kimiraikkonen: 🤨

maxverstappen1: AND YOUR LOVELY FAMILY

yourusername: they love you really maxy don't worry

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 1.945,440 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i'm so talented, i brought three more championships to the family without even getting into the car

view all comments

user40: okay idk why yall were shipping anyone else, i've seen one picture of them being cute and am sold

user41: i'm so convinced this happened cause max saw people were convinced she was with other people on the grid and he had to mark his territory

maxverstappen1: yes i was jealous but can you blame me? prettiest girl in the world actually wanted me back. i will not fumble this

user42: i need my man to be this down bad for me

kimiraikkonen: cute.

yourusername: thank you papa xxx

maxverstappen1: THANK YOU KIMI, LOVE YOU KIMI

yourusername: i think he gets it babe...

maxverstappen1: first time i've got a non-emoji answer, i will savour it

user43: oh my i love them your honour

sebastianvettel: happy for you guys, see you guys soon

yourusername: love you seb!

maxverstappen1: thanks for the vote of confidence seb

sebastianvettel: you may be a literal nightmare child, but you're our nightmare child now

kimiraikkonen: what he said

maxverstappen1: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (i am ignoring that you called me a nightmare child, i was 17 give me a break)

yourusername: you guys he's crying hahahahahah

maxverstappen1: i just love you guys (y/n more)

yourusername: i love you too xx

user44: so liked now we've got the relationship reveal... when do we get both y/n and kimi in the red bull garage

user45: lets up the stakes and get max, kimi and seb in the 24 hours of le mans

yourusername: oh now you've started it - he's already on the phone to adrian

maxverstappen1: am i the first nepotism boyfriend?

kimiraikkonen: you might be the favourite of the in-laws if you get me a le mans win

maxverstappen1: y/n is an only child? i'm the only in law?

kimiraikkonen: yes?

maxverstappen1: I'M ON THE PHONE TO ADRIAN

yourusername: did i just lose my boyf to my dad?

fin.

note: babe the writer's block is back. but i'm fighting it. hope yall enjoyed this!

[motomamita]

farmer!könig × female!reader

warnings: +18, smut, arranged marriage, breeding kink!

könig never thought that the love of his life would take so long to arrive, much less in such a small town where he lived and where everyone knew everyone. but yes, he just turned 30 he found himself totally alone, without a wife, girlfriend or even someone to fuck with without commitments.

being an only child, his parents rushed to find the right woman for him. they had to ensure that their legacy would continue and their lands would be passed down to their future grandchildren.

that's where you come in, also the only daughter of a couple of lumberjacks and with a long list of suitors. although you could choose any boy in the town, your parents quickly paired you with könig, who was the son of the wealthiest family in the place.

you didn't know könig personally but you had seen him from time to time on the streets driving his truck carrying fruits and vegetables to supply the businesses. you knew that he was older than you, not only in age but also in body. he always had a serious face and a look that forced you to lower your head because of how intimidating he was.

your families introduced you one day where they had lunch and talked about how beneficial it would be for both of you to get married. könig didn't contribute much, as he spent all that time looking at your breasts through your dress and biting his lip every time you dared to look into his eyes. neither you nor he spoke to each other.

after that, they organized a small wedding in the garden of könig's family and formalized the union between the two of you. you were now his wife and lived with him in a small house built by könig on his family land. however, the most important thing was missing, an heir.

you both knew that your families would not be calm until they saw you carrying his baby in your womb. that's why you and könig had to get closer to each other, both emotionally and physically. every time he came back from a long day of work, you would wait for him with a jug of fresh orange juice or even a beer. then you would prepare the shower for him, where könig would end up dragging you with him and you would shower together. he caressed your skin with excitement and you did the same but with a certain shyness. however, it never went any further, until now.

one afternoon you were harvesting vegetables from the garden until the presence of könig behind you caught your attention.

"it's time... for us to have a son."

könig was wearing his work shirt with a few buttons open and his blue jeans. he looked agitated, as if he needed you at that moment.

"könig... i, i don't know. i've never done it and i'm a little scared..."

you couldn't finish because könig knelt in front of you and grabbed your hips with his hands.

"please, please, let me fuck you. i can't wait any longer, my love, i need you.."

he begged with some pain in his voice, resting his head on your stomach and almost sobbing. his cock was throbbing inside his jeans and dripping with precum. your heart sank at seeing him so needy, so you accepted.

without wasting time, könig fucked you right there in his garden and on the ground, in a primitive way. your pussy took a while to get used to its size but soon the pain turned into pleasure. könig was on top of you, with your legs over his shoulders and his balls hitting your delicate skin.

"i knew this pussy was worth the wait... fuck, you're so tight."

könig kissed your legs, leaving a trace of his saliva and even lightly biting your skin, lost in pleasure. his grunts accompanied your moans and pleas for him to finish inside you as soon as possible, you were afraid that you would be discovered.

"these juicy tits, they're going to look even better when they're big and dripping with milk... are you going to carry my babies, huh? are you going to be a good mom?"

you nodded your head because your mouth couldn't let out anything but moans. könig increased his thrusts, fucking deep inside you until he filled you with his thick semen.

he gently lay down on top of you, careful not to crush you until his orgasm passed. he carefully pulled out of you, caressing your legs and putting the cum that came out back in with his fingers.

"i have to make sure it catch, mommy."

[giuliettagaltieri]

His Girl

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Featherless birds fall with a splat

Warning: Angst, cursing

Word Count: 4532

Part 1 • Part 2

You aren’t exactly certain how you’d feel with Rafe walking out on you like that. 

Partly, you were glad that you somehow managed to face him without breaking but the way his eyes bore on you, it was just awful, like you were physically causing him pain.

And perhaps you were. 

JJ saw how your mood has switched after you got your drinks.  Your eyes were all blank and you were spacing out.  He made the decision for you both to head back and meet with your other friends. 

You are sitting with your girlfriends, and JJ decided to join you for the rest of the night.  He was entertaining everybody with his overly exaggerated wild stories, trying to get you to focus on him, but your eyes are wandering on a certain someone.

Rafe was gulping down beer, cup after cup.  It was too much, even for him.

You understand he’s got an extremely high alcohol tolerance but this is just sad to look at.  His face was all red and his shirt was clinging to his back, soaked with sweat.

“You know, I really thought I could finally catch your attention with Cameron all gone.”  JJ suddenly leans on the sofa next to you.  You sigh, giving a quick smile without looking at him.  “But I guess it was stupid of me to swoop in when you are literally in love with him.”

Pursing your lips together, you look away from Rafe to glance at the man beside you.  JJ was looking sullen but a trace of smirk is still on his lips, never really looking utterly hopeless.  Sometimes you wonder how he was able to master such a carefree façade. 

“I really had fun hanging out with you.”  You say sadly.  “You’re a good friend.”

He scrunches his face.  “Good friend.  Yeah.”

“JJ, come on.”  You laugh at his blatant display of dislike at being called a “friend” but he breaks into a smile.  “I really enjoyed being with you.  It’s just I don’t…It’s too soon and Rafe-”

“I know.”  He cuts you off, his eyes wandering to the man.  “He looks like shit.”  He mutters and you look over to see just in time Rafe doubling over, looking like he is seconds away from ruining the carpet.

Your back immediately leaves the sofa and you sit up straighter, ready to move whenever Rafe needs you.

“Y/N, he’s not a baby.  Let him take care of himself.”  JJ chuckles, making you bite your lip, still anxiously watching. 

Rafe looks like he’s about to collapse, he was clutching his head and grimacing in pain.  Soon enough, he was shoving people away and heading to the bathroom.

“I don’t know, J.  I haven’t seen him that drunk since…”  You squint at Rafe’ direction in the dark, trying to find a memory to match.  “I haven’t seen him that drunk.”

JJ’s brows slowly rise.  “Really?  Not even when his father found out he did drugs?”

You shake your head.  “No, not even then.”  You slowly rise from the couch and JJ lets you go. 

“Well, I suppose he can’t be left alone, can he?”  JJ smiles somberly and you return it apologetically, still thankful that he’s supporting you right now.

Your girlfriends however were not so keen on the idea.

“Y/N, where do you think you’re going?” 

“Ladies.”  JJ starts, throwing you a wink.  “Have I ever told you about that time we fought actual gators?”

You take your time, heading to the bathroom.  Your usual caregiver spirit when Rafe is in need has been dampened and you’re not sure she’s making a recovery soon.

The music gets muffled the deeper you go into the dark hallway.  The entire house is still buzzing from the music of course but you no longer feel like the speaker’s up your eardrums.  And with every step you take, the more you hear.  You are careful where you step, making sure your feet don’t step on any creaky floorboards.

You stand there, face to face with the bathroom door, hearing Rafe being absolutely wasted.  And is he crying?  You bite on your knuckle, brows meeting just a little as you try to listen.

Quietly, you twist the knob open.  He was retching, big arms hugging the tiny toilet, his head almost all the way in.  You stand there, watching his shoulders shake.  His sobs sounded almost hysterical, ripping from his throat.

What has happened to you, Rafe?

“Rafe?”  You gently call his name and he turns to you.  His hand absentmindedly tried to flush the contents of the toilet, missing it multiple times.  You watch him sag, his entire body sitting on his ankles as he looks up to you helplessly.

“Hey.”  He drawls.  “Wha... wha' are you doin' here?”  He asks casually in a coarse voice he got after barfing his guts out.  His heavy-lidded eyes look up at you, watching you hesitantly walk towards him.  “Shouldn’t be here.”  He shakes his head, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Rafe.”  You say his name so gently, he closes his eyes.  He’d pay just to hear you say his name again and again.  “Are you alright?”  You ask and he looks up at you dumbly, mouth slightly parted before nodding slowly.

“Yes.”

You fish out your own handkerchief and run the tap over it, just enough to dampen the fabric.  “You don’t look like you’re alright.”  You smile, a hint of teasing on your voice and he scoffs.

“Why ask when you don’…don’t believe me anyway?”  He gestured stupidly with his hand and he stills when you grab the said hand.  He looks up at you as you wipe the sick off his arm.

“You drank too much.”  You mumble as you start to step closer to him, your hand cupping his cheek to wipe at the corner of his lips.

“No, shit.”  He wanted to say but the words are stuck on his throat as he just stared at you, taking care of him, touching him, just looking at him again.  He drops his hands and his limp fingers rest on the cold bathroom floor.  He is feeling too much, how your ankles brush on his thighs, the warmth of your fingers, and the soft dampness of the fabric gliding on his chin.

Have you always been like this to him?

Rafe wonders if he just sat still while you tended to him before, would he have this sight of you all those times.  Was he so stupid he missed all opportunities to look at you like this?

“Come back.”

You pause.  “What?”

He shakes his head before looking at the pinstriped polo you are wearing.  His brows creased, teeth clenching in annoyance as he pinched the fabric.  “This…this is mine.  You’re wearin’ MY clothes while you’re kissin’ other guys!”  He fumes, hands clumsily tugging at your clothes that your knees almost buckle, your hand finding purchase on his shoulder so as to not fall.  “That’s fucking un…unacceptable!  You like ME!  You can’t go ‘round kissin’ other guys when y’ like me!”  He suddenly yells and your eye twitches.

Your finger jabs at his chest.  “Fuck you!”

Rafe’s glassy eyes widen as his breath gets caught in his throat.  Did you just…did you just curse at him?

“Fuck you, Rafe!”  You repeat in annoyance.  Blood boiling within seconds as you angrily run a hand on your hair, scoffing at the sheer audacity of this man to say those things to you. 

You glare at him again and he actually flinches.  “Don’t tell me what to do.  You have no right to decide for me.”  You angrily strip off the pinstriped polo, his head following your wild motion before you crumple it in a ball.  “This is your polo?”  You raise it and he nods hesitantly, still in shock at your outburst.  “Here!”  You throw it at his face and you watch it cover his head, his hands are sluggish as he slowly pulls it off. 

You’re heaving in frustration both hands on your hips as you look at his crestfallen face, bunching the fabric in his large hands.

“Then I can go kiss other guys now, huh?”  You say out of anger and you watch his shoulders sag as he brings his hands to the floor again, fingers twisting the fabric.

He looked absolutely wrecked and your heart starts to feel heavy again.  You cross your arms, leaning on the wall as you watch him stare at the floor.

“Why shouldn’t I be allowed to kiss other guys?  You made it clear that you don’t like me.”  His head shoots up when you say that.  “I’m not waiting for you forever.”

Rafe presses the heel of his palms against his eyes before he looks at you in agony, face all red, his bottom lip jutting out just the slightest.

“Y/N, please.”  He moves to you, still on his knees as he loosely wraps an arm around your thighs.  You looked up at the ceiling when he stared up to you desperately.  “’m sorry, please.  Don’t leave me ‘gain, please.”

You attempt to push him off but he hugs your thighs tighter, his head pressing on your stomach.  “Rafe, let go!”

“No!”  He sobbed, his shoulders shaking.  “You’re mine!  You like me! Not sharing you with that…that fucking pogue-”

“Rafe!”

He flinches again but he doesn’t respond, only hugging you impossibly tight.

“You have to let me go.”  You say more calmly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He shakes his head against your stomach.  You lean further against the wall, trusting it to hold you up as you surrender, sighing out your frustration as you rub his back, letting him cry on your stomach.

Perhaps JJ was wrong, about Rafe not being a baby.  You truly feel like you are calming down an overgrown toddler.  A toddler that fed on steroids instead of milk.  His arms are tightly wrapped around you, just allowing you to breathe and aside from that, you can’t do anything else.  Your free hand that didn’t get caught in his trapping hold, tried to soothe him, trying to tell him that you’re there, with him.

You run your fingers through his buzzed hair, feeling the heat and sweat cling on your fingers.

“You’re a mess.”  You mumble, a small smile playing on your lips when his shoulders eventually start to stop shaking.  “You got snot all over my belly, ugh.”

Rafe loosens his arms around you and wipes his nose, his eyes glaring at you for a moment.  You smile at him smugly as he gathers himself.  He clears his throat as he stands in front of you, eyes kept on the polo that he crumpled on his hand like a ball.

“Wanna wash your face?”  You giggle.

He glares at you again but actually does what you told him to and takes the mouthwash you casually hands him.  You nudge him with your shoulder to get him to scoot over so you can wash your handkerchief.  Rafe watches your hands get under the faucet, just calmly watching the water glide over your skin, delicate fingers wringing the fabric that you so gently wiped on his face a while ago.

“’m sorry.”  He slurred as he watched you tidying up.  “Was so stupid.  Sayin’ things that I don’t mean.”  He continues, eyes starting to get desperate as you just rifle through your bag, not even looking at him.  “Sorry for causing you trouble all the time.”  He follows you like a puppy when you move past him to head to the door.  “Please, don’t leave me again.”

You grip the doorknob tightly before it loosens in defeat.  Rafe’s eyes brighten up when you turn to look at him.

“Why do you boys suddenly become the most honest people when you’re drunk?”  You ask exasperatedly, also remembering JJ’s confession on the porch.  “But then again, you could just be spouting nonsense.”  You open the door this time but he puts a hand against it to close it again.

“I’m not.  Please!”  Rafe almost begs, his entire frame caging you against the door, his respect for personal space long forgotten as there’s nothing else in his head but to try and get you to understand, to believe.  His tongue is heavy and his head is murky due to intoxication, which made him all the more frustrated.

You press your lips together, startled eyes boring into him.  You have known that Rafe has an extreme and overwhelming side to him, his entire presence just smothering you in the best ways you can imagine.  But with you trying to hold on to the fragile thread of anger and stability, you decide to push him by his chest.  “Why don’t we uh…grab coffee?  Let you sober up?”

He runs a hand on his face, it’s becoming a habit of his when he’s around you.  “Fine.  But don’t disregard everything I said just because I’m ‘drunk’.  Please.”  He said the last word with emphasis, his eyes offering no bargaining, prompting you to nod.

“Alright.”

Rafe looks into your eyes for a couple more seconds, making you understand that he is not willing to accept a half-assed response and you need to take him seriously.  He slowly backs up, hands shoving into his pockets while you tongue your cheek, hesitantly opening the door for the both of you.

The blasting music thrums in your ear the deeper you get into the party, maneuvering your way in the sea of hormonal teens.  A hand wraps on your wrist and you stop to look who it was.

It was JJ, heaving.  He probably ran the moment he saw you.  “Hold on, you’re leaving?” 

Rafe was quick to pull your hand away from JJ’s hold, immediately squaring up.  His chin was titled in a challenge as he eyed the flowers and bows decorating the band-aid on JJ’s chin.

“Rafe, please.”  You beg, arms circling on his bicep to stop him from doing anything to JJ, who didn’t look the least bit afraid.  In fact, he was looking at Rafe in pure entertainment.  “JJ, I’m sorry.  I’ll just talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“No, you won’t!”  Rafe seethes but you only roll your eyes at him. 

Kissing his teeth, JJ nods.  “Yeah, sure.  Let me know if you need anything.”  He eyes Rafe one more time and smiles at you in his usual relaxed manner.  “I’ll tell your friends you left early.”

When you finally made it out of the crammed up beach house, you closed your eyes at the nipping sea breeze.  You can’t believe you’re leaving the party with the person you have been trying to avoid for weeks.

“Keys.”  You mutter and Rafe hastily digs through his pocket, his hooded eyes blinking as he tries to locate his keys.

Your deadpanned eyes watch him for a few more seconds before he finally passes it to you, along with the pinstriped polo, which you hesitantly take.

He felt weird, having to take the passenger seat, especially when it’s you with him.  Rafe gets in the car, his eyes on you the entire time you drive.  You’re not exactly acknowledging his presence in the car with you, despite his entire body twisted to face you, his head that is leaning back on the chair never turned to any direction but yours.  He didn’t even know you arrived until you were taking off your seatbelt.

Rafe follows you quickly, nearly tripping on his way out.  But he plays it cool, pulling his shirt down when it rode up.  He meets your eyes briefly in embarrassment.  This entire experience is ruining alcohol for him.

Even thinking about the mess he made in the bathroom, with you witnessing, made him want to smash every bottle that will ever grace his eyes again.  That shit’s evil.  Rafe blinks at the brightly lit convenience store, not yet able to process the colors of the different flavors of ramen and chips.  He closes his eyes tightly, nearly driven to overstimulation and seeks out a chair, collapsing on it as he attempts to massage away the bounding pulse on his temple.

He feels you place a hand on his shoulder and the scent of coffee fills his lungs.  Rafe looks at you briefly and the swirling liquid placed in front of him.  You sat yourself on the chair opposite his and your glossed lips wrap on a straw, sipping on your tall cup of slushie.

After muttering a quick thanks, Rafe picks up the coffee, tentatively blowing on it and watching the steam blow off in your direction before taking a sip.

Your cheeks heat up at the groan he lets out when he takes more sips.  His shoulders are slightly hunched and you quietly admire his physique as you continuously slurp, watching his intoxication being masked by caffeine with every gulp he takes. 

Realizing that you’re staring, your eyes slowly shift outside the glass, cheeks all warmed up.  Rafe sets down his coffee and just takes his time to look at you.  He does not know if it’s still the lingering effects of alcohol in his blood or the overly bright lighting in this rundown convenience store, but you look like you’re glowing.

“Y/N.”  He attempts to speak but you shake your head.

“Give it time, please. Coffee doesn’t magically cure intoxication, you know.”  You smile softly to reassure him.

Rafe smiles back before taking another sip.  He watches you turn to the road outside again.  There you were, in front of him again after weeks of not seeing each other, just sipping on sugar and ice as you swung your feet that were clad in babydoll heels, with pretty straps that he always found cute and alluring.  Despite the cozy choice of clothing, you never go without a statement piece.  

He steals another glance at your clothes, along with the pinstriped polo you decided to wear again.  He takes another sip of coffee.  “It looks better on you.”

You look down on your clothes, lips pressing together before giving him a curt smile.  “…Thanks.”

“Sure.”  He nods.  Both of you look at each other for a while, not quite certain what to do with the still tense atmosphere before simultaneously looking away, like a couple for teenager going on a first date, it’s fucking ridiculous.

Time passed with not a single word being uttered between you.  Rafe watches how the coffee stained a line on the cup every time he takes a sip, the liquid now cooled, and your slushie cup was starting to sweat and leave trails of water everytime you move it.  His eyes were starting to focus again and once he was confident in being able to speak without slurring, he cleared his throat to garner your attention.

“Listen.”  He begins but the words lodge themselves in his throat the moment your curious eyes flit to him, perhaps this was a bad idea.  He never knew what to say.  Rafe doesn’t know if he can last one conversation without offending you somehow.  “I know I hurt you.  And I know it wasn’t just that time at the party.”  He presses a knuckle on his lips to gather his thoughts.  “I always take you for granted, when all you ever did was take care of me.”

You cross your arms in an attempt to make yourself feel protected as you lean back, eyes avoiding him.

“Your kindness and efforts.  Your…feelings.  They were so easy to overlook when you gave them to me every single day without fail.”  He tries to reach out to you but stops midway and drops his hands on the table.  “I never knew what I had until you decided to take everything away.”

Your eyes sharpen and he winces at his careless mistake.

“I mean, until I finally succeeded in pushing you away.”  He reworded his sentence, making sure to pin the blame on himself instead of you.  He hated how hurt he made you feel.  He felt like shit.  He never cared when people called him an asshole or a psycho, but after what he did to you, he felt like every label given to him was all real, and this time, it hurt.

He had girls before, and all the wanting he can associate with them is the feeling of fleeting euphoria when they’re under him, that is all.  Rafe never missed anyone, or anything about anyone.  Until you came along.

Rafe found himself in the middle of the night, missing you calling him by his name.  He missed your smile and scent.  His cheeks suddenly go wild red when he remembers the mess he made out of himself when he got your shirt, one you accidentally left in his room, up his nose during those nights when the longing just beats him up.

“I regret everything I said and done.”  He says, trying to get back on track to apologizing.  “And if you want to be my…friend again…”  He takes a deep sigh.  “I’ll do better.”

You chew on your bottom lip, eyes shyly meeting his, and you uncross your arms slowly.

“You promise?”

Rafe nods quickly, a small smile appearing on his lips as his hand darts out to hold yours.  “Yes, I promise!  Just don’t shut me out again.”

Gently, you shift your hand to wrap around his and he gladly holds yours back securely.

“I’ll try to be less…controlling too.”  You look away.  “I won’t bother you as much and I won’t cling to you in parties or wherever-”

“I thought we’re okay already?”  Rafe was dumbfounded.

“We are.”  You say, equal confusion in your eyes.

“Then why are you still staying away from me after this?”  He asks in frustration.

Your lips part, trying to form words but his statement just muddles everything up.

“I…I just didn’t want you to get fed up again.”  You say quietly and he grabs both your hands this time, pulling them to his chest.

“Baby, I don’t care, just come back to me, alright?”  He says quickly, you don’t think he realized what he called you just now.  “I don’t care if you call me six times a day to argue that raisins do not belong in bread or if you hold my hand in every party we go to.”

The heat in your cheeks slowly travels to your neck.  “Rafe.”

“You can have me drive you around the island when you get hungry at three in the morning.”  He beams in a surge of confidence and affection.  “I’ll let you fix my clothes as it pleases you so much, slap as many hello kitty bandaids on my face as you want.”  He laughs, making you smile too.  “I-I don’t even know what I’m saying right now, just please let’s go back to how we were before, yeah?”  He presses a kiss on your knuckles.  “I don’t want to hear any of this plan you have.  I just want you with me again.”

At this point, there really is nothing you can say and you can only nod.  You are glad that Rafe is satisfied with that response.

After a few more minutes of you catching your breath in silence, you decide to call it a night.  Rafe, now sobered up, decided to drive, and let you enjoy the passenger seat like you always do.

Despite the conversation you had in the convenience store, both of you can’t shake off the feeling that you’re forgetting something.  Like there is something you are purposefully holding back from each other, and it visibly makes you antsy, Rafe more than you.

He taps his finger on the wheel, tugging at the seatbelt every now and then as you continuously shift your eyes from the road and back to the car interior.

When he finally pulls over in front of your gate, neither of you want to move, still waiting for that something to happen.  But as another moment passes, you realize that perhaps it’s time to leave it here for now, to take things slowly, see where it takes you.  But he isn’t sure if he wants that, to see you slip away again, like the finest sand between his fingers.

“Uhm…thanks for the ride.”  You make a move to open the door but Rafe was quick to lock it, making your brows meet in a soft frown.  “Rafe-”

He cuts you off by clumsily pulling his seatbelt off, cupping both your cheeks to smash his lips on yours.  It wasn’t careful nor romantic, just pure unadulterated need and impulse.  You can feel the tremble in each other’s lips, the fear that one of you might pull away, the fear of what comes next, the fear of not having the other’s love returned in the same intensity.

But as your breath mixes, your tears soaking each other’s cheeks, your body slowly melts into each other’s arms.  He was desperate, biting and sucking your lips, everything in his kiss wanted to possess you, making your chest tighten in having everything you ever desired at this moment.

Rafe pulls away abruptly, a thin line of spit still connecting your lips when he looks deep into your eyes.  “Tell me you still love me.”  He begs while he cradles your face.

“Rafe.”  You push him away gently but he presses his forehead against yours, his shoulders shaking. 

“Tell me, please.”  He squeezed his eyes, not knowing what response he would be receiving.  He knows he’d die if you reject him, with his soul open and bared to you in its most vulnerable form.

His eyes slowly open when he feels a soft caress on his arm and you’re smiling at him with your tears cascading down your face.

“I love you.”

It felt like Rafe had winter melting in the palm of his hand, giving birth to spring.  Whatever doubt and fear is replaced with nothing else but sweet sweet warmth.  He is being shrouded with undeniable assurance that made him feel invulnerable yet ironically, impossibly vulnerable.  He had nothing moments ago, and suddenly he got a taste of everything, all at once.  He has you.  Just as you have him.

He laughs and kisses you breathlessly.  “God, Y/N, I love you.  I love you, I love you.”  He litters your face with wet kisses, making you laugh, before he kisses your lips once more, his teeth nibbling on your kiss-swollen lip.  “Mmmh, did you get a new lip balm?”

You gently pry his hands from your face as you continue to laugh.  He meets your eyes with sheer adoration, head still trying to wrap around the fact that you are his girl.  His girl.  His girl.

God, he’d gladly die if you told him to, just to prove his dedication. 

“I love you.”  He whispers gently, intimately, vulnerably.

And with equal passion, you reply, “I love you too.”

Rafe has never felt this kind of happiness in his life, not once.  You are his natural high, the ecstasy he’s been chasing.  And now that he has you in his arms, he’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you there with him.

Not Your Girl • Not Her Man

[ithebookhoarder]

Could you write an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic? They are newly weds and the reader wishes to pamper Anthony while he is bathing. He’s a bit cautious about it at first because he is not used to such affection. Thank youu I love your writing a lot especially the truth or dare fic.

In Your Hands (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

A/N: First of all, thank you so much! And I hope you like this. Thanks for sending this ask in, luckily I was already toying with a few Bridgerton ideas thanks to the new trailers so this came surprisingly easy.

Also, if any of you guys enjoy my work, or just feel like it, then consider buying me a cup of coffee here: https://ko-fi.com/ithebookhoarder ☕️

Warnings: Nudity references, the start of sexy-times, alcohol 

Masterlist

Anthony was someone who hated routine. After all, as much as he was devoted to the day to day duties that came with being the head of his family, if he had his way he would escape the city and the ton, choosing instead the peace and tranquility offered by the countryside, at Aubrey Hall. He dreamed of being able to be just a brother, son and - as of recently - a husband. 

Only married a few months, your new husband was keen to seize each and every opportunity to escape his duties when they appeared - whether it was sneaking off for long rides in the countryside, or making an early exit from whatever social gathering you both had been forced to attend as the new Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton; Whatever allowed you both to be alone and back in one another’s arms (usually sans clothes) as soon as possible, was a good idea to him. 

It was no surprise then, that there was one part of his daily routine that Anthony actually relished: bathing. 

Oh, yes. There was little more in the world that could bring your fully-grown husband such child-like joy as being able to soak in a tub of steaming hot water for an hour or two. The sight always made you smile as you entered your bedroom: Anthony, half asleep, looking as if the stress had physically melted away. 

It was your favourite sight - and not just because of the exquisite view it granted you of his sculpted form - but because of how calm and peaceful he looked. It was as if he had transformed back into the mischievous and carefree boy you’d first fallen in love with all those years ago. Back when your only concerns had been not tripping on your skirt at your presentation, making sure you were actually asked to dance at a ball, and surviving the social season without embarrassing your family or getting yourself roped into some scandal. 

Whilst you knew neither you nor Anthony would ever change a single thing about your life together, you knew it came with a cost. In fact, today it had been enduring hours of talks with local tenants, the family’s book keeper, estate managers, and even several possible suitors looking to secure some kind of marriage contract with one of his younger sisters. (You’d been informed by several members of the household staff that those meetings had been remarkably swift, however, with each unfortunate man looking rather dejected as they were shown from the house). 

If you’d been able to spare him the pain or share his burden you would have, but unfortunately you’d been occupied with matters of your own. Being the lady of such a grand estate came with duties of its own, and you were quite done looking over seating arrangements, replying to correspondence, and paying social calls for one day.  

Still, at least you’d both survived to tell the tale - no wonder Anthony looked half asleep. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the open bottle of whiskey that sat on the table beside the tub. You knew without looking at the label which bottle it was, having smuggled it out of the library yourself to enjoy together. 

“Anthony Bridgerton!” A fake gasp of horror escaped your lips as you appeared in the doorway, a hand pressed to your chest. “You are a sneak and a traitor. That whiskey was for me too, you know.”

“And a good evening to you too, my love. Never fear, there’s plenty to share,” he teased, head relaxed, tipped backward as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. Your eyes were transfixed on the hollow of his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Besides, I would apologise but I simply couldn’t wait a minute longer. Not when I couldn’t feel my back from sitting at that desk all afternoon.”

The moan that escaped his lips was almost sinful as he sank a little lower in the water.  

“Well, you’re forgiven. You look far too content for me to even dream of being mad,” you sighed, drawing close and perching on the rim of the tub. Anthony handed over the whiskey glass with a soft smile, letting you take a sip of your own before you placed it back onto the table. 

You could feel the warmth seep into your bones immediately, even if that was also likely in part to your proximity to the tub and your naked husband. 

“Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Anthony’s eyebrows rose at the question, the surprise written across his face. “What?”

“You heard me,” you teased, reaching up to run your fingers through the soft strands of hair atop his head. “I can wash your hair, and get your back for you. Unless you’d rather do it yourself, or I can ring for someone?”

“What? No, that’s uh, that’s not necessary,” he chuckled, visibly flustered - which was amusing and perplexing. After all, it wasn’t as if you two hadn’t seen and touched every single inch of the other in the weeks since your wedding. However, he looked almost confused at the idea that you would offer such a thing. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to,” you soothed. “Let me take care of you, for once. Husband.”

It was probably below the belt to purr his title like that, but you knew how that one little word had the power to reduce the great Viscount Bridgerton to a puddle. That, along with the warmth of the water and the buzz of the whiskey, made him almost pliant to your every whim. Still, you knew him well enough to recognise the lingering hesitation in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. 

He very rarely let his guard down or allowed anyone to assist him in any way. You sometimes believed that had the servants not been dependant upon their work to make a living that Anthony would have dismissed them long ago and tried to run the entire estate single handedly just to prove he could. That he was worthy of the title he bore, and that he was every bit as great a man, brother, and husband as his father. 

It appeared he was the same way when it came to letting himself be taken care of and it made your heart ache for the man you loved. 

Pressing a triumphant kiss to his lips, you swiftly manoeuvred yourself, pulling up a stool and grabbing a jug from the dresser.  

“Just relax… trust me,” you murmured, waiting until he did as he was bid. The gesture alone said volumes, more so than any words ever could. 

Waiting until his eyes were shut, you reached for the soap, tilting his head against your chest as you began to massage the mixture into his scalp. Yet again, your husband seemed to transform into a cat, purring with every touch in a way that made it suddenly very difficult to resist the urge to strip off and join your husband in the water instead. 

“Enjoying yourself?” You giggled as Anthony barely managed more than a groan in reply. 

It was taking every ounce of your self control to focus your attentions solely on Anthony, and not on the way his body seemed to be reacting to your ministrations. Thankfully, you were able to last long enough to finish the job, using the jug to rinse the water through his hair, making sure to angle his head upwards so the water ran off him instead of into his eyes. 

But you were only human; the minute you were done washing the last suds from his scalp you made your move. Sliding off the stool, you knelt beside him and reached out to caress his cheek, causing him to open his eyes almost sleepily. Leaning forward you planted a soft, delicate kiss to his lips, causing him to groan in response.

Without saying a word, his hands rose, twisting their way into your hair as he deepened his kiss. It was clear what he wanted next. 

“Now, wife,” he growled, pulling back just long enough to reach down and tug teasingly at the tie of your dress-robe. You could feel the warmth of his touch as his wet body began to dampen the material. “I think it’s your turn to let me take care of you… so you’d better get in here, before I drag you in here.”

[allbark-no-bite]

good boy.

art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)

summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC

warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating

author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are

————————————————————————

You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.

She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."

Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.

"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.

This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.

"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"

Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"

Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.

Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.

"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.

Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.

Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.

It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.

"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.

Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.

So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.

He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.

A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.

'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'

She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.

'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'

Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.

“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.

Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.

Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.

"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.

He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."

His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.

"I want to hear it from you."

"I felt fine."

Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.

"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.

You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.

"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.

You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.

"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"

'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."

Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.

"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.

Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."

Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of  your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"

You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.

"Look at me."

He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.

His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.

Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.

"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."

The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.

Art Donaldson lived to be praised.

You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"

Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.

"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.

You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"

Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.

"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."

Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.

Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.

His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.

Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.

When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.

His breath is shallow—anticipatory.

"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.

"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.

"You know you don't have to ask."

There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.

It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.

Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.

Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction. 

You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.

His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.

“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”

You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.

“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.

Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.

Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.

[darnell-la]

𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗦 𝗔 𝗕𝗜𝗚 𝗗𝗢𝗚

pairing: the worst!logan howlett x younger generation!reader

warnings: Logan easing into the new world and generation, mention of Wade trying to get roommate!reader and Logan together, making a TikTok, sniffing, smut, etc.

note: “she don’t want no puppy! She wanna BIG dawg!”

———

Logan had thought living with Wade would be a bad idea. He belonged in his last universe with what he’s done. He brought himself down for years, mentally and physically, hoping the pain would stop. Thankfully, it finally had.

It’s been almost a year since Logan has lived with Wade and his younger roommate. The match seemed off when he first met her, but after the first hour, she knew why she and Wade were close friends.

The girl was in college, young, pretty, had a small job at the campus, and loved parties, and things that Wade did daily.

Logan had a small argument with y/n a couple of weeks ago after she gifted him an iPhone. She said he needed it to keep in touch with her and Wade. She also said he needed a bit of humor.

He had no idea what that meant until she made a TikTok for the man. The videos that came up on his page didn’t make sense to him, he he still laughed at them.

He had no idea what happened to himself, but sending memes to y/n every hour was a habit.

After sending y/n a TikTok video, he swiped and came across a sound that confused him.

The man in the video was lip-syncing a song as she showed his muscles. Logan gave a disgusting look at his phone, thinking the man looked ridiculous until he read the title.

“When she chose you because you’re height starts with a six and your weight starts with a two”

Logan sent the video to y/n, asking her what he meant by that. He didn’t know being a muscle-tall man was a trend.

“Logan, I’m in the room next to you, just come here!” Y/n shouted in her room, making him sigh loudly as he got off of the couch for the first time in what felt like days.

“I just wanted to know what he meant? Like is being big and tall a trend? Like, if that’s the case, then I’d be viral,” Logan used words that y/n and Wade ran him by.

“God, Logan — Do people your age question everything?” Y/n checked her phone and noticed what trend he sent her. She’s thought about this trend but with Logan in it. He fits it perfectly, but Wade would tease her if she’d ever brought it up.

“I’m just askin', Bub. Seemed stupid to me,” Logan shrugged his shoulders. “Because you haven’t tried it,” y/n defended her generation. “So, you’re into that stuff? God, y/n — Never knew you’d be one of those kids,”

“I do like it, and since you’re so boring, we’re gonna have you do it, so c’mere,” y/n stood up from her bed and placed her phone down on her desk after clicking the sound.

“Gotta take your shirt off for it,” y/n lied, but she knew he’d do it, even if he complained. “No fuckin’ way, bub,” Logan laughed as he turned around to go back to his sofa until she grabbed his arm softly.

“Please! You never do TikTok’s with me,” y/n fake cried, annoying him in an instant. “Ain’t takin’ my shirt off for no little girls online. I’d get, what’s it called? Canceled?” Logan said, making her laugh.

“Logan, you sound stupid as fuck. Take off the shirt — Unless you’re jealous they look better than you,” y/n shrugged her shoulders as she went back to her bed to sit down, acting like she didn’t care to get a reaction out of him.

“Bub, you know I look better than them, so stop the lyin,” Logan felt a bit upset at her words. Y/n ignored him for what felt like hours, so he sighed and gave up. “Swear to god, I’d Wade say some shit about this, I’ll kill him,”

Logan and y/n worked on the TikTok for an half hour, trying to get the right angle since he kept saying he didn’t look good enough.

Y/n never complained. Watching him walk through her door repeatedly, then editing the video in slow motion, made her stomach tingle.

At first, Logan felt uncomfortable. She could smell the young lady, but he didn’t want to say anything. He’d be a pervert if he did, so he kept quiet, thinking it would go away, but he knew her spot grew bigger.

“So, you think I’m a big dog?” Logan genuinely asked as y/n began to edit the TikTok video. “What makes you think that?” She asked; thinking she nailed her scared response, but Logan saw the quick stutter in her fingers as she typed on her phone.

“Just askin, bub,” Logan said before taking a small sniff. He was leaning on her doorway as she sat on her bed. He was so far., yet she smelt so close.

He cussed himself out in his head, upset that Wade had won this “you’ll like her eventually” argument. Logan swore she was too young, and even made her feel a bit bad.

He had thought y/n had moved on, maybe got over the thought of her having a chance with Wade’s new friend, but the smell she had, is making him go insane.

All she’s doing is making a TikTok. That’s it, but he can’t stop thinking about the spot she’s soaking in her panties. He felt nasty, but in a good way after a while. The lust was taking him over.

“You happy you’ve got your little video?” Logan asked as he kicked off of her dorm frame and walked towards her bed to sit next to her.

“Yes, finally,” she smiled at him before continuing her edit. Logan scanned the girl's body slowly, watching how spotty her breathing was, seeing goosebumps form on her arms, and watching her leg shake a bit.

“Is that so?” He asked as he placed his hand on her thigh. She’s always been a sweet bean to him, but he ignored it. He tried his best to prove Wade wrong, but she was hard to ignore, and Wade knew that. Wade knew y/n would bring something out in the grumpy old man.

“Mhm hm,” Y/n mumbled as she pushed the post on her phone. “Think it’ll get a lot of likes,” she looked to the side at Logan who was now closer than she thought.

“And why is that? I look good?” He asked her, eyes on her soft and pretty lips. “Uh, yeah — Think the viewers will like it,” she awkwardly smiled, feeling her heart raise.

“Think you liked it more than the viewers will,” Logan almost whispered. Y/n just noticed how his shirt was still off. Why was his shirt still off?

“Seen you repost that video, y/n. You’re not slick,” Logan spoke about the video he had sent her. “Think you were thinkin’ about me when you did it,” the man smirked.

“I- I was just reposting,” Y/n stuttered as his hand slowly cupped her chin. “Guess I’m not the big dog you’re lookin’ for them,” Logan faked sighing as he pulled his hand back.

Before he could turn around to get up, y/n grabbed his face and pulled him into a short but long kiss, hoping to get the best out of this one-time thing.

“Told you last you, you ain’t for me, baby,” Logan said, making y/n look down in embarrassment. “I know,” she said. “I lied — Was just goin’ through a little somethin,” Logan admitted before pulling her back into a kiss, this time rough.

Y/n gasped as he breathed into her mouth, sucking on her lips like he’d starved for days. “Lo,” y/n moaned low at the feeling of his pulling her into his rough kisses.

Logan decided to push Y/n down on her bed and lean over her, keeping their lips together. Y/n instantly wrapped her legs around the man, pulling him closer as he moved his hips, grinding on her to feel the pressure.

“Oh, fuck,” Logan groaned in between their kiss, feeling his cock leak already. “If I fuck you, Wade wins,” Logan pulled back from the girl, taking a look into her eyes. She thought the man would leave, get off of her and never speak to her again, until he assured her, he was staying.

“Fuck it — Can’t resist you anymore, baby,” Logan smashed his lips back onto the young lady's lips, kissing her roughly as he tugged on his jeans. All y/n had to do was pull up the gown she wore almost every day she was off of work when she was too lazy to dress up.

“Wait- We need a condom,” y/n leaned up, but Logan pushed her back down. “Oh, no we don’t. Your cunts leaking too much for me to not feel her,” Logan said. She was confused, not knowing how he knew she was wet until she thought to herself.

He’s a mutant. His only powers can’t be regeneration and speed.

“Fuck, I-“ y/n cut herself off, embarrassed at her pervy actions. He probably smells her all the time. “Caught red-handed,” Logan chuckled as he put his cock in hand.

“Always wet around the house. Teasin’ me and basically beggin’ for me every day. Wished I took you to my room when I first met you. Maybe by now, we’d have our little family,”

Logan pushed into the girl, giving her no time to think about what he had just said about a family.

She’s never thought of a family with Logan. It’s not he wasn’t father material, it’s the fact she’s only been thinking about him pleasing her, and pleasing her only.

“Fuck, that’s it,”