#Long Island Wine Tours

[goldstarlimousine]

The first step to enjoying your first wine tour is to choose the right tour package. Research the various limousine wine tour packages available in Long Island, and consider your group size, budget, and preferred vineyards. Some of the best wine tours in Long Island include Vintage Tours, Long Island Wine Tours, and North Fork Wine Tours. It’s also important to book your tour in advance to secure your spot, especially during the peak season.

[aceluxurywinetours]

Looking North Fork Vineyard Tours service? Ace Luxury Wine Tours offer Long Island North Fork Wine Tours for all the events and celebrations. Call Ace Luxury Wine Tours on 631-307-6004 and book your best wine tour in New York City.

[limokingnewyork]

Contact Limo King New York to book your Party Bus Rental in Long Island NY

Are you looking Party Bus Rental in Long Island NY? Limo King New York is an affordable, fast and easy way to get party buses anywhere in Long Island New York. Party buses are available in all shapes and sizes and can accommodate any group size. Whether you're looking for a small party bus that can seat up to 7 people or a large bus that can seat up to 60 people.

Why Choose Limo King, NYC

Variety of Car Brands

Best Rate Guarantee

Awesome Customer Support

We have all styles of party buses and limousines for rent. Limo King New York is the most trusted Party Bus Rental service provider in Long Island NY and serving for over 30 years! Below are party buses you can book directly from the website. Also, a minimum booking of 6 hours is required.

FORD E450 Party Bus:

20 Passengers

Black Exterior

Ford F550 Party Bus:

30 Passengers

Black Exterior

FORD F550 Party Bus:

30 Passengers

White Exterior

Freightliner Tiffany Party Bus:

35 Passengers

White/Black Exterior

FREIGHTLINER XMH Party Bus:

40 Passengers

White/Black Exterior

Frieghtliner Executive Party Bus:

45 Passengers

White/Black Exterior

FREIGHTLINER XMH2 Party Bus:

50 Passengers

White/Black Exterior

MERCEDES SETRA Party Bus:

60 Passengers

White Exterior

Whatever the occasion, Limo King New York is a fantastic choice to book a birthday party bus, Prom Party Bus Long Island, Weddings, Wine Tours, Corporate Travel, Night Out, Sweet 16’s, and Long Island Bachelor Party.

When you're ready to get a quote, or book, or need to ask any questions about our party buses. You can contact Limo King New York by phone at 866-259-8123 or by email at reservations@limokingnewyork.com.

[kayesfanfics]

X-Men 97’ Nightcrawler x Reader

Warnings: ‼️X-MEN 97’ SPOILERS‼️, smut under the cut, cuteness overload-

A/N: KURT IS MY ALL TIME FAVORITE X-MAN/MARVEL CHARACTER IN GENERAL I ADORE HIM SO OF COURSE I HAD TO WRITE FOR HIM AFTER THE NEW EPISODE. I really hope we see him join the team or at least just more of him!

You were a mutant on Genosha when you met Kurt, he had helped show you and the other mutants around from your ship the island, and you had followed the handsome blue boy around like a lost little puppy. He was charming and mischievous, flirty with a cute fangy smile on his face. After the official tour was over, you asked him to show you some hidden gems of the island, to which he bowed and kissed your hand, “As you wish!” before teleporting the two of you away from the crowd. He had showed you a beautiful, peaceful and tropical spot away from everyone else, where the two of you got to know each other, soon becoming friends and meeting at that spot almost every day

He’d ask you out on a date pretty quick, he’s not shy about flirting at all and will make it clear that he finds you attractive and would like to know you more intimately. He’d take you to a nice restaurant, showing up in a dashing suit to impress you and his curls gelled back in a slick style. Will compliment you on your dress/suit and have you twirl for him to see the full outfit, saying “Mein gott! You look absolutely stunning, liebe!” before pulling out your seat for you like a gentleman and ordering a nice bottle of wine for the both of you to have with your dinner

After dinner you go for a walk around the gardens, holding Kurt’s arm he held out for you. His tail would curl around one of your legs as you talked, sitting on a bench together to view the night sky above the beautiful greenery together. He’d want to know your life story and would share his with you, he’d want to know what you like to do, what you hate, what you’re afraid of, what you love, and he’d share all of that about himself with you as well

After a few dates you became official, more often than not staying with each other in your homes (we’ll get to what goes on in the bedroom later😉). He’s a huge cuddler for sure, wants both his arms around you and his tail curled around your waist or leg. He doesn’t mind being big spoon or little spoon, he’s perfectly content and happy with both and just wants to feel your skin against his. He’s big on physical affection and PDA, he just loves you so much and he’s a physical guy in general. Wants to be able to hold your hand, give you kisses, wrap an arm around your waist, anything as long as he touching you in some way. Plus he likes to show off how lucky he got with you, showing you off and always making sure everyone knows he’s taken. He’s highly sought after, after all (if you ask him)

He’s always got a date planned, he’s definitely not one of those guys that lets the other do all the work in the relationship. He’ll take you to your favorite restaurants, do your favorite activities, anything you would like to do. He’s adventurous and will try anything once, and will always make an effort to do things you enjoy. He will teach you some sword fighting skills, just you know how to use them and plus, do some borderline erotic sparring sessions with him of course! It’s something he enjoys and wants to do with you, but if he ever cut you with a sword he’d want to damn himself to Hell because HOW DARE HE GIVE YOU A CUT LESS THAN A CENTIMETER LONG?! HE’S THE WORST PERSON TO EVER EXIST. He will bandage it and kiss it better, begging your forgiveness despite you already saying it wasn’t a big deal and it didn’t even hurt at all

When you were recruited to the X-Men, he was offered a spot as well so the both of you packed up and moved to the X-Mansion so you could help mutants from there. On missions, he’ll always catch you if you fall and teleport you out of harms way. Definitely flirts during battle as well and likes to show off his skills to you, making you giggle and smile at him before focusing back on the mission. If you get hurt during it, he’ll teleport you to the mansion immediately to the medical room before going to help his teammates so he can get you their help quicker. Will spend lots of time with you and cuddle with you while you recover, you don’t have to lift a finger, this man will get you whatever you want

He does like to tease you a lot, things like squeezing your butt as you walk by or giving it a light smack with his tail. Will whisper innuendos and jokes to you during important meetings and such to make you giggle, to which Scott gives you a deadpan stare until the two of you refocus. His tail will move up your pants or skirt under the table, making your face heat up

He’s constantly winning you over long after you’ve become official. Will still bring you flowers, will still flirt with you, but he’s also the type to be like “Would you still love me if I was a bug?” He does need some reassurance due to his looks and how he’s been hated because of them, like, HE knows he’s sexy, but he wants to make sure YOU think he’s sexy. And you assure him you think he is⬇️⬇️

NSFW Under the Cut

Oh he is SUCH a lover boy. He’s more focused on your pleasure than his own for sure, and my man is SKILLED and EXPERIENCED (everyone wants a taste of the fuzzy man-). His hands will be all over your body, even his tail will be wrapped around you as well, and he’ll be mindlessly blabbering on and on in English and German about how much he loves you and how beautiful/handsome he thinks you are. My dude is AMAZING at giving you head, doesn’t matter which genitals you have, he’s got experience with both and will have your legs shaking and your back arched far off the bed during round one. If you’re AFAB, he’d know exactly where the clit is and exactly how to pleasure it, rather than just roughly rubbing it and calling it good. If you’re AMAB, he’d for sure be fingering your ass while sucking you off, his other hand squeezing your thigh and spreading your legs for him while his tail holds your other leg for him, or even smacks your ass with it teasingly

You often insist on giving him head in return, which of course he doesn’t mind but HE IS ALWAYS TRYING TO MAKE SEX ABOUT YOU, when you want to make it about HIM sometimes. He’s so loving, caring and sweet to you, you just want to show him how much you love him as well and sometimes have to get that through his fuzzy head. He loves body worship for sure, so he’d love to hear you say how hot and sexy and handsome and adorable and beautiful he is while the two of you make love to each other, it’d make him cum 10x harder and faster

He’d lowkey be kind of basic and love missionary, but he’s certainly not vanilla. He just wants to be able to see your face and to hold you close to him, so missionary tends to be good for that, but he’d also love it if you rode him and watch your chest bounce and toss your head back at the feeling of his cock inside of you. I honestly think he’s got more girth and length, but definitely not too short at all and would fit perfectly inside of you. He also likes to hold your hand during sex, which may be cheesy but he just wants to make sure you’re okay the whole time

Being in a mansion with many others, it is sometimes hard to find privacy and quiet time for longer than 20 minutes, so he’ll sometimes teleport the two of you elsewhere so you’re not interrupted. When in your room at the mansion though, he likes to make you scream while teasing you to be quiet and that someone will hear you, covering your mouth with his hand or kissing you muffle your loud moans and whines for him. But when the two of you walk out to the living quarters to join some of the others, Jubilee and Roberto will not make eye contact, Morph will give Kurt a knowing smirk and a high five, while Gambit outright says “You know we could hear y’all at it all the way down here-“ before Scott gives you two the disappointed dad look and says “There are children residing here.”

Kurt: And how exactly did Jean get pregnant?

Scott: 😳

Kurt: Yeah, that’s what I thought-

[keekee-23]

Unspoken Desires

A Y/N x Damian Priest Fanfiction

Warning: Smut

Summary: Damian Priest offers Y/N a place to stay during her house fumigation. She accidentally catches Damian in an intimate moment, leading to a passionate encounter that reveals their hidden feelings.

Y/N sighed as she locked the front door of her house, taking one last glance at the “Fumigation in Progress” sign staked in her front yard. She knew it was necessary, but the inconvenience of finding somewhere to stay for a few days wasn’t something she’d anticipated. Fortunately, her good friend Damian Priest had offered her a solution. He had invited her to stay at his place until the fumigation was complete. While she initially hesitated, his genuine concern and insistence had won her over.

The thought of being so close to Damian made her nervous, not because she feared for her safety—she knew he would protect her without a second thought—but because of the feelings she had been harboring for him, feelings she had kept hidden for far too long.

When she arrived at Damian’s place, she was struck by how comfortable and inviting it was. Damian’s home was a perfect reflection of him—modern, stylish, and undeniably masculine. The walls were adorned with a mixture of Batman, horror paraphilia and Asian inspired decor, and the furniture was sleek yet comfortable.

He greeted her with his usual charming smile, his tall, muscular frame leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Make yourself at home, Y/N,” Damian said, his voice smooth and inviting. “I’m really glad you decided to stay here. It’ll be nice having some company.”

Y/N returned his smile, though her heart was pounding in her chest. “Thanks, Damian. I really appreciate you letting me crash here. I didn’t want to impose.”

“You’re not imposing at all,” he assured her, his dark eyes holding hers for a moment longer than usual. “I’m happy to have you here.”

The warmth in his voice made her stomach flutter. She had always been attracted to Damian—who wouldn’t be? He was tall, tatted, handsome, and had an effortless charisma that drew people to him. But there was more to him than his looks. He was kind, thoughtful, and had a way of making her feel special, even when she was just a friend in his orbit. And now, staying under his roof, she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way about her.

After Y/N settled in, Damian insisted on making dinner. He moved confidently around the kitchen, his strong hands expertly chopping vegetables and seasoning the meat. Y/N watched him from the kitchen island, admiring the way his muscles flexed under his shirt as he worked.

“You’re quite the chef,” Y/N remarked, trying to distract herself from the way her body was reacting to him.

Damian chuckled, glancing at her over his shoulder. “I like to cook. It helps me unwind after a long day. Plus, it’s a great way to impress guests.”

Y/N smirked, feeling a little more at ease. “Well, consider me impressed.”

They ate together at the dining table, the atmosphere comfortable but with an undercurrent of tension that neither could ignore. They talked about everything and nothing— her job, his upcoming wrestling tours, their mutual friends, old memories—but there was something different about their conversation tonight. Damian seemed more attentive, his gaze lingering on her lips when she spoke, his hand brushing hers when he passed her the salt. Y/N felt the heat rise in her cheeks every time their eyes met.

After dinner, they moved to the living room. Damian poured them each a glass of wine, and they sat on the couch, the dim lighting creating an intimate ambiance. They continued talking, their conversation flowing easily, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen, something that would change everything between them.

When it was finally time to call it a night, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. The day had been surprisingly perfect, and the thought of it ending left her with a longing she couldn’t quite shake.

“Goodnight, Damian,” she said softly as he showed her to the guest room, the wine having left her feeling warm and slightly flushed.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and filled with something she couldn’t quite place. “Sleep well.”

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Her heart was still racing, her mind replaying every moment of the evening. It was as if something had shifted between them, something subtle but undeniable.

Y/N changed into her pajamas and slipped into the guest bed, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Her mind replayed the evening's events, the way Damian had looked at her, the subtle touches that sent shivers down her spine. Did he feel the same way she did? Or was she imagining things, letting her attraction to him cloud her judgment?

Sometime later, she woke up with the need to use the bathroom. She rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep as she padded down the hallway. On her way back to the guest room, something caught her attention. Damian’s bedroom door was slightly ajar, and a soft light spilled into the hallway.

Curiosity got the best of her, and Y/N found herself peeking through the crack in the door. What she saw made her heart stop.

Damian was lying on his bed, his shirt discarded on the floor, his muscular chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. One hand gripped the sheets beside him, while the other was wrapped around his length, moving with steady, deliberate strokes. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she realized what she was witnessing. But what shocked her more than anything was hearing him moan her name, his voice thick with desire.

“Y/N…”

The sound of her name falling from his lips sent a shockwave of arousal through her body. She should have turned away, given him his privacy, but she was rooted to the spot, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of him pleasuring himself, thinking of her.

She bit her lip, feeling a rush of heat between her thighs as she watched him. The sight of Damian in such an intimate moment, his face contorted in pleasure as he whispered her name, was the most erotic thing she had ever witnessed. Her pulse quickened, and she felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to go to him, to be the one to satisfy the desire he was feeling.

But just as she tried to back away, her foot accidentally bumped into a small table by the wall, the sound echoing loudly in the silent hallway. She froze, her heart leaping into her throat as Damian’s eyes snapped open and locked onto hers.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Y/N’s face burned with embarrassment, her mind racing as she tried to come up with an excuse, anything to explain why she was standing there, watching him. But Damian’s expression was calm, almost amused, as if he had been expecting this all along.

Slowly, he sat up and adjusted himself. His movements were deliberate as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Y/N’s eyes were drawn to his body, the way his muscles flexed as he moved, the sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. He didn’t seem the least bit ashamed of being caught in such a compromising position. If anything, he looked pleased.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down her spine.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her brain was still trying to process what she had just seen, what she was still seeing. Damian’s eyes were dark with desire as he stood and slowly walked toward her, his movements predatory, like a panther stalking its prey.

Y/N’s body reacted before her mind could catch up, her heart pounding in her chest as he approached. She knew she should turn and run, retreat to the safety of the guest room, but she couldn’t move. The way he was looking at her, with such raw, unfiltered lust, made her knees weak.

When he was only a foot away, Damian reached out, his hand cupping her cheek as he gazed down at her. His touch was warm, his thumb gently stroking her skin as he tilted her head up to meet his eyes.

“I didn’t expect you to see that,” he murmured, his voice sending vibrations through her body. “But I’m glad you did.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. There was something in his tone, something in the way he was looking at her, that made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to fall. Her mind was racing, trying to process what was happening, but all she could focus on was the heat radiating from his body, the way his breath ghosted over her skin.

“I… I didn’t mean to—” she started, but Damian cut her off with a soft shush.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” he whispered, his hand coming up to caress her cheek. His touch was gentle, but there was a firmness to it that made her shiver. “How long I’ve imagined this?”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She could hardly believe what she was hearing, but the sincerity in his voice, the intensity in his eyes, left no room for doubt. He wanted her—just as much as she wanted him.

“I’ve thought about you, too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it, but she didn’t care anymore. The truth was out, and there was no taking it back now.

Damian’s eyes darkened with desire, and before she could say another word, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Y/N melted into him, her hands coming up to clutch his shoulders as she returned the kiss with equal fervor.

The kiss was everything she had imagined it would be—intense, passionate, and filled with a longing that had been building between them for so long. Damian’s hands roamed her body, exploring every curve with a reverence that made her feel cherished, desired. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that made her toes curl.

He pulled her closer, his body pressing against hers, and Y/N moaned softly into his mouth. She could feel the heat of his arousal through his boxers against her, and it only fueled her own desire. She wanted him—needed him—more than she had ever needed anyone.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her off the ground, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried her toward the bed. Y/N’s heart pounded with excitement as he laid her down gently, his body hovering over hers, every movement deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and desire. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Me too,” Y/N admitted, her voice trembling with anticipation. She reached up, tracing the lines of his jaw with her fingertips, marveling at the softness of his skin beneath her touch. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Damian.”

Her confession seemed to ignite something in him. With a low growl, Damian claimed her lips once more, the kiss searing and intense. His hands were everywhere, sliding beneath her shirt to push it up and over her head, discarding it carelessly to the floor. Y/N’s breath hitched as his hands moved to her bra, deftly unclasping it before tossing it aside. He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over her exposed chest, his eyes darkening with desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck, down to her collarbone, and lower still. Y/N’s breath hitched as he kissed his way down to her breasts, his tongue flicking out to tease one of her hardened nipples.

Y/N gasped, her back arching off the bed as Damian gently took her nipple into his mouth, sending a surge of pleasure through her. The sensation was overwhelming, and she instinctively tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished her breasts with tender attention. His tongue teased and his lips caressed, each movement igniting a fire that spread through her entire body. Damian’s hands began to explore further, slipping under the waistband of her shorts with a deliberate, slow motion, smoothly tugging them down along with her panties, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.

Once she was completely bare before him, Damian paused to drink in the sight of her. His eyes traced every curve, every inch of her exposed skin with an intensity that made Y/N’s heart race. The heat of his gaze made her skin tingle, and she felt a flush rise to her cheeks under his thorough scrutiny. Yet, despite her initial shyness, the way he looked at her—with such raw, unfiltered admiration—made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Y/N's thoughts blurred, lost in the whirlwind of sensations coursing through her. The earlier embarrassment she had felt was now a distant memory, drowned out by the overwhelming desire that consumed her. All she could focus on was Damian—how incredible his touch felt, how deeply she craved him. Every caress, every kiss was like a spark to the fire burning within her, intensifying her need for him with each passing moment.

Sensing the depth of her longing, Damian's lips began to travel lower, brushing over the soft, sensitive skin of her stomach, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. His hands followed, gentle yet firm, as they continued to explore her body. He paused briefly, lifting his gaze to meet hers, his eyes dark with desire and filled with a silent question. Y/N, breathless and unable to speak, simply nodded, her consent clear in the way her body responded to his touch.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Damian leaned down, his lips pressing a tender, lingering kiss to her inner thigh, sending a shiver of anticipation through her. Every movement, every touch, was filled with a reverence that made her feel cherished, desired, and utterly consumed by the moment.

Y/N bit her lip, a soft moan escaping her as his lips moved closer to the place where she needed him most. Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her, her body trembling with anticipation as Damian continued his exploration, his mouth leaving no inch of her untouched.

When his tongue finally flicked over her sensitive core, Y/N cried out, her hips lifting off the bed as a wave of pleasure crashed over her. Damian’s grip on her tightened, holding her in place as he delved deeper, his tongue teasing and tasting her with a skill that made her head spin.

He worked her with a precision that spoke of experience, his movements deliberate and focused. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how to drive her to the edge of ecstasy. Y/N’s moans grew louder, her body writhing beneath him as she lost herself in the sensation, her mind a blur of pleasure.

“Damian…” she gasped, her hands reaching for him, needing to feel him, to touch him.

Damian lifted his head, his lips glistening with her arousal as he crawled back up her body. He kissed her deeply, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue, and Y/N’s desire for him only intensified. She could feel him, hard and ready against her thigh, and she wanted him inside her, needed him more than anything she had ever needed before.

“I need you,” she whispered against his lips, her voice trembling with the intensity of her longing.

Damian didn’t keep her waiting long. He quickly stripped away his boxers, revealing his tatted muscular body in all its glory. Y/N’s eyes roamed over him, taking in the sight of his broad shoulders, the defined muscles of his chest and abs, the way his body seemed to radiate strength and power. And then there was the hard, thick length of him, standing proudly between his legs, a clear testament to his desire for her.

Y/N swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as her eyes locked onto his. Damian’s gaze was molten with need as he climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between her thighs. He leaned down, capturing her lips in another heated kiss as he guided himself to her entrance, the tip of him brushing against her wetness.

Y/N moaned softly into his mouth, her hips bucking instinctively as she sought to bring him closer. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, her body aching for him, for the fulfillment she knew only he could provide.

Damian groaned, the sound vibrating against her lips as he slowly began to push inside her. He moved with a deliberate slowness, inch by agonizing inch, stretching her, filling her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious combination of pleasure and pressure that had Y/N gasping for breath.

When he was fully seated inside her, Damian paused, his forehead resting against hers as they both took a moment to savor the feeling of being so intimately connected. Y/N’s breath came in shallow pants as she adjusted to the size of him, her body stretching to accommodate him in a way that felt almost sinful.

“You feel so good,” Damian whispered, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips before slowly beginning to move, withdrawing almost completely before sliding back in with a smooth, controlled thrust.

Y/N moaned, her head falling back against the pillows as she gave herself over to the sensation. Every thrust was measured, deliberate, as Damian took his time, building a slow, steady rhythm that left her trembling with need. He was relentless, driving into her with a precision that made her toes curl, each stroke sending waves of pleasure radiating out from her core.

“Damian,” she gasped, her fingers digging into his back as he increased the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. The sound of their bodies coming together filled the room, a symphony of skin against skin, punctuated by the breathless moans and gasps that fell from her lips.

Damian shifted his angle slightly, his hips rolling in a way that hit just the right spot inside her, and Y/N cried out, her body arching off the bed as a powerful surge of pleasure washed over her. He was hitting all the right places, every thrust pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Y/N’s world narrowed down to the feeling of Damian inside her, the heat of his body pressed against hers, the way he was driving her absolutely wild with every thrust. Her breath hitched as she felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening in her lower belly, winding tighter and tighter with every movement.

Damian could sense her nearing the edge, and he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, as he sought to bring her to the peak of pleasure. His hand slid between their bodies, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at her core and pressing down with just the right amount of pressure.

Y/N’s eyes flew open, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as the pleasure exploded within her, a white-hot burst of ecstasy that had her entire body trembling. She clung to Damian, her nails digging into his back as her orgasm crashed over her, wave after wave of intense pleasure rolling through her body. Y/N's moans filled the room, her voice raw and unrestrained as she gave herself over completely to the sensation.

Damian groaned in response, his own control fraying as he felt her walls tightening around him, pulsing with the force of her climax. The way she responded to him, the way her body moved with his, was pushing him to the edge faster than he expected. But he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. He wanted to make this moment last, to savor every second of being with her like this.

He slowed his pace slightly, his thrusts becoming deep and measured as he rode out her orgasm, drawing out her pleasure until she was left trembling and spent beneath him. Y/N's breath came in short, ragged gasps as the aftershocks of her release pulsed through her, her body still clinging to Damian's with a desperate need.

But Damian wasn’t done. He wasn’t satisfied with just one climax; he wanted to see her fall apart again, to hear her cry out his name as he took her to new heights of pleasure. With that thought in mind, he shifted his position slightly, hooking one of her legs over his shoulder to change the angle of his thrusts.

Y/N gasped as the new angle sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt another wave of arousal build within her. Damian’s movements were more controlled now, each thrust precise and deliberate as he pushed her closer and closer to another climax. His hand found her clit once more, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had her hips bucking against him, chasing after that delicious friction.

“Damian, please,” Y/N whimpered, her voice desperate as she felt herself teetering on the edge once again. She was so close, so achingly close, and the need to fall over that edge was almost unbearable.

Damian’s eyes darkened at her plea, a growl rumbling in his chest as he increased the pace of his thrusts, driving into her with a renewed intensity. He could feel his own release building, the tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter with every thrust. But he held back, determined to bring her to the brink first.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “Come for me again, baby. I want to feel you fall apart around me.”

His words were like a trigger, pushing her over the edge with a force that took her breath away. Y/N’s body tensed, her back arching off the bed as her second orgasm slammed into her, even more powerful than the first. Her vision blurred, and she cried out his name, her voice hoarse and trembling with the intensity of her release.

The sight of her coming undone beneath him, the feel of her tight, pulsing walls around him, was Damian’s undoing. With a guttural moan, he finally let go, his hips snapping against hers as he buried himself deep inside her, his release hitting him with a force that left him trembling. He groaned her name, his voice rough and low as he spilled into her, his body shuddering with the intensity of his climax.

For a moment, they were both still, their bodies locked together as they rode out the last waves of their release. Y/N’s breath came in soft, ragged gasps, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Damian remained above her, his arms trembling slightly as he held himself up, his breath hot against her neck.

Finally, when their breathing began to slow and the room grew quiet once more, Damian gently pulled out of her, collapsing onto the bed beside her. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as they both basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Y/N snuggled into his chest, her body still humming with the remnants of pleasure as she listened to the steady beat of his heart.

They lay like that for a long time, neither of them wanting to break the comfortable silence that had settled over them. Damian’s fingers traced lazy patterns on her back, his touch soothing and tender, as if he couldn’t get enough of feeling her skin against his.

Y/N sighed contentedly, her eyes fluttering shut as she let herself relax completely in his embrace. She had never felt so at peace, so completely satisfied, as she did in that moment. Everything felt right, as if this was exactly where she was meant to be.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Damian murmured after a while, his voice soft and filled with contentment. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering against her hair.

“Me too,” Y/N replied, her voice equally soft as she nuzzled closer to him. She knew that things would be different between them now, that their relationship had shifted in a way that couldn’t be undone. But she wasn’t afraid of that change. In fact, she welcomed it.

There was no need for words in that moment. They both knew what had happened, and they both knew that it was the start of something new, something beautiful. And as they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, they knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.

[hiraya-rawr]

lover from another nation ~ hcs .

characters !! all the genshin men i could think of rn...

note !! it's been a while since i've written hcs for a lot! aaaah just some thoughts i had today (i had a few culture shocks here and there when i met up with new friends hahahah)

~ m o n d s t a d t ~

grabbing zhongli by the hand to dance and sing in the middle of the square because mondstadters live for the festivities! he quickly learns to freestyle dance along with you, moving with the crowd and cheers and wine. (remember that Tangled scene? yes)

kaveh wasn't sure how to react the day you ordered hard liquor on your first date. sure, your freedom and love for a good drink is one of the things which made him fall for you but wow– are you really gonna down that many glasses on a date? what do you mean you're still sober?

ayato finds himself in love with the way you sing. it doesn't follow the rules of inazuman opera at all; it's much more freeing (much like how his house help sings as he does chores) and you'd tell him stories and the history of your homeland in the form of songs. no mondstadter could ever forget the songs they grew up listening to!

heizou being almost appalled by your rather... robust and reckless nature. you don't have any backup plans whenever a situation goes south, you simply hold his hand, smile, and say "we go where the wind blows!"

~ l i y u e ~

diluc having chopsticks as part of your dining utensils because sometimes, you're more comfortable eating with it (let's not forget often having rice on the table! he must learn the joys of garlic rice with his steak <3)

dainsleif stays by your side as you offer incense and fruits to your ancestors. he whispers quiet prayers, bows when you do, and helps you clean their altars. he finds solace in the familial piety of liyuens– it makes him wish he could honor his ancestors with the same kind of peace as you do.

kazuha getting tongue tied over the language being so similar to inazuman but also so different– why are some of the characters the same? why are the meanings different? there's a bit of miscommunication in the start, but you both find your own ways to understand each other when words fail.

we all know gorou has always wanted to climb the mountains of liyue and you made it possible! meeting him by the docks and touring him around your home nation, you made sure to pick hiking routes with the most scenic spots, even managing to tour him around the jade palace and the floating lone island.

~ i n a z u m a ~

kaeya has no idea how you sit on the floor while being comfortable. you've made him sit with you once while reading a book, after that, his bones ached for days! shaking every time he stood back up!

albedo met you in the irodori festival- he painted you for practice and spark between you started. the long distance was difficult at first, but his long letters always had a little drawing of you and you'd send back the scent of cherry blossoms. klee would also send you letters, asking you to come visit soon!

childe loves a new fighting style; like most sword users in inazuma, you followed the raiden shogun's teachings– swift, efficient, and at one with the sword. he loves how you fight and it's often how you end your dates!

cyno was almost confident that you were playing a prank the day you said you'll make him your specialty and you showed him a platter of raw seafood. it's "sashimi and ngiri" you say, and he waited for you to explain the pun of your joke. it wasn't a joke.

~ s u m e r u ~

thoma is quite used to mondstadters and inazumans, two very different cultures, then he meets you and your sumeru upbringing! you show him how to cook foods that can be eaten with hands, and your menu is often so colorful he can't help but admire it!

itto doesn't really understand the study culture of sumeru, but he totally supports whatever it is you're talking about and tries to add in comments (his comments don't exactly make sense though...)

scaramouche, in his "path of redemption and healing", unwillingly gets involved with you as you show him around the beautiful parts of sumeru! you argue that he needs a different, better outfit with a color scheme that matches his vision. he insists that the hat stays. you tell him he looks like an aranara.

~ s n e z h n a y a ~

al haitham was almost concerned the day you got a heatstroke after being in the desert for no more than a few minutes. snezhnaya has prepared you for harsh weather, but never the heat. soon enough your lover is carrying around heatstroke-first aid packs just for you.

bundling up tighnari's fluffy ears before setting foot in snezhnaya because you just know the cold would practically freeze them off. his tail also gets wrapped and bundled warm in the large coats you wear, protection from the harsh snow. he says he looks like a big lummox.

note !! alright, choose your favorite dynamic! i personally think mondstadters with liyue/inazuma would be interesting maybe because i want to force feed them the joys of rice...

// if i misinterpreted a culture then umm... just know it wasn't intentional and let's consider it a real thing in teyvats culture 🫣😎

commissions || general m.list

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @stygianoir14 @shizunxie @bluriie @aestellia @abyislan08

[sloppysequinz]

Not the Step-Alcoholic, but the Alcoholic who Stepped Up - Part 1

Notice: This one includes some kinks I don't normally write, so be warned. Also, it's really long and only the first of at least two parts. I'm writing this for ME.

Normally I try to write write gender neutral leads but this one is explicitly a cis woman, just so you know.

cw: fauxcest, alcoholism, piss

You and your dad had never been close. He was always kind of a distant asshole, and when your parents got divorced shortly after you left for college it was more of a relief than anything.

You would never begrudge your beloved mother's choice to leave on a world tour after that. You talked on the phone for a couple of hours before she left. She'd spent 20 years feeling pinned down and trapped, and she was making up for lost time.

You absolutely DID begrudge your father's decision to begin dating immediately after the papers were finalized. In fact, you weren't sure he waited. The girlfriend who started popping up in his facebook posts seemed way too close to him to have only been seeing each other a few weeks. This hunch of yours was backed up when your father married her before your second semester was up.

You didn't hate Angelina, or Lina as she insisted everyone call her. You hated the idea of her. Your father had managed to land a bubbly, busty younger woman, making himself a mid-life crisis stereotype. And she was appallingly young: not quite your age, but 20 years younger than your mother, so only 10 years older than you. And she was always, always drunk.

Not in a way that was extremely obvious, usually. She wasn't a stumbling, drooling, wreck. But you could tell. You could smell the booze every time she threw her arms around you. Whenever you had to spend time with her, she would gradually get louder and more flushed no matter what you were doing--she had a water bottle she liked to carry that you suspected did not contain water. But every so often, she would go overboard in a truly spectacular way. At Lina and your father's wedding, there had been an open bar at the reception. They didn't check IDs, so you had made generous use of it, but you had nothing on Lina.

For one thing, she wasn't sober when the reception started. Her extravagant bridal suite provided champagne, and she'd had a glass in hand the whole four hours she and her bridesmaids (including you) got ready. By the time the ceremony started, she was flushed and giggling, but that was easily passed off as bridal joy. Her water bottle had appeared during the photos. By the time you walked into the reception dinner, you could tell she was only walking straight by leaning against your father, who hardly looked upset to have a sloshed woman in a low cut white dress pressing her tits into his arm.

Then things really started. Celebratory champagne toasts to begin, then wine with dinner, then the dancing started and the bar opened. You managed to fade into the background with a gin and tonic in hand and enjoy getting tipsy by yourself in the corner while the adults lost control, stealing back into the crowd only when you needed a refill. Lina's friends ordered round after round of celebratory shots. Lina, slurring and leaning over the bar so far her tits practically fell out of her dress, had asked the bartender to make her a long island iced tea. She had been so impressed with the result that she ordered three more in quick succession, yelling her order louder each time. After the second one, she was grinding on your father on the dance floor like a slut. She missed the third one and knocked it onto the bar, your father had to grab the fourth one and hand it to her to make sure she had a grip on it. You'd never seen a woman behave like this in public.

Then Lina found you. "SHWEEEETIE!!" she had crooned, spotting you in your corner. She tottered and wove over to you, heels clacking unevenly across the floor. She collapsed into the chair next to you, drink in hand. Her sleeveless, short white reception dress had ridden up so you could see the edges her matching white panties. Her tits were practically jiggling over the neckline, though you thought that might be by design. There was a little bit of drool going from her chin onto her tits. She grabbed your hand clumsily and leaned in to land a wet, sloppy kiss on your cheek. She absolutely reeked of booze. She was grinning like a lunatic.

"Youuuuuu shhouldz. Call me mmom now!!" she giggled, swinging your joined hands around. You managed to stop her from knocking over your glass before dropping her hand.

"I already have a mom." you replied coldly. You wanted to get up and walk away, but you suspected she'd just follow you. You figured if she was this drunk, it would only be a few minutes before she got distracted or passed out. You would just have to suffer through it. You took a sip of your drink and prepared to ignore her. That proved impossible.

"Zheennnn calls me mommyyyyyy!!!" she cried, and threw her legs over your lap, startling you. "Yous dontsh have mommyyy do you?" With her legs sprawled over you, you could see her panties in their entirety. There was a wet spot on the white satin over her crotch. You shivered.

This was what you hated about Lina most of all. She was frighteningly, devastatingly hot. You hated that you must have inherited your taste from your dad. Everything about her made you dizzy with horniness. Her soft, thick, creamy thighs that you could now tell framed an obviously fat and unshaven cunt, dripping wet from being drunk. Her enormous, bouncing, soft tits, too soft to be augmented, just a freak of genetics. The way her ass jiggled when she walked. Her soft eyes, her long hair, her perfectly painted nails--even her drunkenness. The first time you had realized just how drunk she was, and how often, your panties had flooded. Now, with her fuckwasted slurring drunk in your lap and three gin and tonics in your belly, you were sure there was a wet spot on your panties to match hers. You had to focus, you needed out of the situation.

"I'm not a kid, Lina," you replied. You touched her thigh to try and push her legs off you, but she just whined in a way that made you freeze and pull your hand away. She smiled lazily at this.

"Ohhhhh I knowww shweetie." She replied. "You're...a...a womanz for szhure." She ran her hand over your belly and around your waist. Her clumsy touch lit a fire in your cunt. This was really, really bad, but you couldn't think of a way to leave without causing a scene. "Whant schome?" Lina asked you, holding out her drink and waggling it at you. You took the glass from her hand so she wouldn't drop it, then took a polite sip before setting it on the table. It was stronger than you expected and you grimaced, which made her laugh.

"How do you drink that stuff?" You asked. "It's vile."

"I shink itszz DELICIOUS~!" she replied. "But..." she giggled and waved you in closer, as though she wanted to share a secret. You obliged and leaned towards her. "...I fucckinnnn... looooooooves zhe tasts of boooooooze." She was trying and failing to stage whisper, but there was no one around you. She giggled and continued. "Zhe taaaste makesh me.....hornyyyy." she managed to actually whisper that last word before erupting into laughter, her soft thighs shaking against you. You could barely resist running your hands up them. She probably wouldn't remember if you did...but no good risking it.

"Scpeaknig of boooooze..." she reached for her glass, but clearly she was having a hard time. She missed by a mile. "Whooopsh!" she yelled, then laughed. "Schweetieeee when did you put thrreee glasses there?!" she asked, then laughed uproariously.

This was so funny to her that she collapsed backwards onto the next chair giggling furiously. Her barely contained tits popped out of her dress. They were even more beautiful than you had imagined, with tight pink areolas and enormous nipples. She didn't seem to notice they were on display. She slowly, clumsily, laboriously pulled herself back into a seated position using the chair and tables for support, finally and mercifully pulling her thighs out of your lap. She reached for the glass again, and missed again. It didn't seem she found it funny this time.

"Helpsh...helpsh youur mommy, schweetie?" she slurred, looking at you pitifully.

You did the only thing your horny brain would let you. You grabbed the glass and held the drink to her mouth. After a moment of drunkenly thrusting her face at the glass, her numb lips found the straw and closed around it. She drank deeply and quickly, evidently determined to finish the whole drink in one go. Her eyes went crossed as she swallowed and swallowed. As you watched your wasted drunk new 'mommy' chug booze from a straw, lips pursed and glazed eyes crossed at the effort, massive tits out and dangling in front of you, panties on display, determined to get even drunker than she already was, the bottom of your stomach tightened into a knot. It was the hottest thing you'd ever seen, and you hated that.

When the glass was finally empty, she pulled away, stared into space for a moment, then dropped her face onto the table. She grabbed her own tits and began squeezing them almost absentmindedly. "Dhazz fuggin gooooood...." she moaned, tweaking her own nipples. "Fugggg...." she trailed off into silence. Her glazed drunk eyes fluttered shut. Even with her thighs out of your lap, you could still see her panties clearly. Her legs were splayed wide and her dress was now just a ring of white fabric around her waist. As you watched, a stream of piss appeared from out of her already stained white panties, filling up the seat and running down her legs. She groaned as she pissed and squeezed her tits tighter, eyes still shut. You took that as your cue to leave.

On your way out of the reception, you managed to grab a bottle of gin from the bar while the bartender was distracted by Lina's drunk friends. You drank directly from the bottle as you walked. It was a quarter gone by the time you got back to your room, which you blessedly had to yourself. As soon as the door was shut behind you, you turned up the gin bottle and chugged. You didn't bother to get undressed, just popped your tits out of your dress and started squeezing. You knelt on the floor in the entryway and frantically pulled up your skirt to slip a hand into your panties, rubbing your soaking wet cunt and pinching your nipples as the booze hit you in a rush. You paused touching yourself only to desperately chug more booze. When the bottle was 3/4 gone, your brain was melted and you began slurring to yourself.

"Mommy....fugggg....mommy gonna....wanna cum, wanna.....make mommy cum....."

The image of your father's wife, passed out blackout drunk with her tits out in a puddle of her own piss was burned into your mind. It made your pussy burn, it made your stomach tighten, it made you desperate for a drink. And alone in your room, you gave in. You imagined getting her another drink, waking her up to pour it into her mouth, slipping your hands into her piss stained panties and sucking on her tits while she moaned and slurred incomprehensibly, helping her back to your room, staggering into the hotel elevator with her ass and tits out for the world to see, helping her collapse into your bed and plying her with more booze, touching her until she came and pissed the bed, guiding her numb drunk hands to your tits and cunt as she hovered on the edge of consciousness....

You came harder than you ever had in your fucking life. And you hated it.

[cha-melodius]

💙 For the ficlet game! 😘

💙 drunken kiss / tipsy (warghlbargl somehow this got to be 618 words do not perceive me. read all the kiss ficlets)

It wasn’t that Alex was against wine tours as a concept. He’s a bourbon and beer guy, and can think of plenty things he’d rather be doing on one of his few days off other than being carted around Long Island in a limo with nine strangers. He’d promised June that they’d do whatever she wanted for her 29th birthday, though, and the fall foliage and wineries tour was what she’d chosen. Most of the other people who’d signed up were women, including a group of four older women wearing t-shirts emblazoned with Sexy at 60! and three college girls who giggled every time he looked at them.

The last two tour participants were a pair of men who could not be more different—one bold and bright, with turquoise hair, pink sunglasses and a million-dollar smile, and the other quiet and reserved, wearing khakis and a simple blue button-down rolled to his elbows. His smile was smaller, rarer, but there was something about it that drew Alex in, that made him want to know more. June, Nora, and Pez—the bold one—had become thick as thieves immediately, which meant that Henry—the quiet one—had been pulled into their circle as well.

Four wineries in, they’re all tipsy and feeling good. Henry’s smiles have gotten broader and more frequent, partly from the wine but also because Alex has been entertaining himself by trying to pull as many of those smiles out of him as possible. The rush he gets when he receives one that’s wide enough to show Henry’s gums and crinkle the sides of his eyes is dangerously addictive, actually.

At the fifth winery, Alex sits across from Henry and crosses his legs under the table, reaching his foot out to slide along Henry’s calf. Just a brush at first, but expression on Henry’s face—his eyes darkening as his tongue darts out to wet wine-stained lips—emboldens Alex the next time.

Then Henry abruptly pushes his chair back and stands up. “Pardon me, I think I need some air,” he says, even though they’re sitting outside.

No one else bats an eye, and Alex would think he fucked up except Henry gives him a Look that is quite clearly an invitation. Alex isn’t entirely sure what excuse he gives, only that moment’s later he’s following Henry into a grape-leaf covered pergola. The moment he turns the corner he’s being grabbed by the arm and pressed up against the a wall, and then Henry’s inches away.

“I’m not usually one for doing this drunk, but Christ, you’re making it very hard not to kiss you,” Henry murmurs, his wine-soaked breath washing over Alex’s lips.

“Good thing I’m just tipsy,” Alex says, though that’s maybe stretching it. His head is swimming a little and he feels warm all over, though that might be the Henry of it all. He twines a hand in the front of Henry’s shirt and pulls him closer, until his body is pressed against Alex’s. Still, Henry hesitates. “C’mon, sweetheart. Make an exception.”

Henry laughs and nudges his face closer, brushing his nose against Alex’s. “Well. You are exceptional, love.”

Alex might whimper, but thank fuck Henry closes the gap between them before he makes a complete fool of himself. Henry’s lips are soft and he tastes like wine and fancy cheese, and Alex lets himself get lost in it for an amount of time he chooses not to think about.

Finally Henry pulls away, though not far. “Should we get back to the tasting?”

Alex slides a hand onto his waist, holding firm. “In a minute. I think I’ve had enough wine. What about you?”

In answer, Henry kisses him again.

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

Dear August; chapter five

Summary: You and Bradley have been best friends since college and when he was stationed in North Island, you were thrilled that he would be back in your life. When things start to sour with Bradley’s girlfriend and she breaks things off, Bradley comes to you for drunken comfort. What happens when an accidental hookup brings along an unexpected positive pregnancy test threatens the state of your friendship? What happens when your best friend Jake steps in to help you?

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female!reader, Bradley x female!reader

Tropes: friends to lovers, unexpected pregnancy, unrequited feelings, love triangle

Word Count: 1600+

Jake’s vibrant green eyes light up in surprise, the silicone spatula and sponge in hand slapping into the sink with a heavy sloshing sound as he takes in your words. The look on his face, flashes of worry and confusion wash through him and it makes you anxious, so so anxious as you take deep breaths and try to collect your hands to stop the trembling from vibrating its way into your forearms.

Electricity passes through you as silence fills the sunny floors of your kitchen. But Jake’s concern melts from his face, dissolving into his cool, lackadaisical vibration that you’ve come to rely so heavily on. “I’m worried.”

“Haven’t you been,” Jake winces, feeling strange asking about your cycle in the middle of your kitchen in the middle of a peaceful Sunday morning. He scratches the sharp scruff of his jaw and adjusts the backwards baseball cap on his head. “Don’t you track…”

“Yes,” you nod, swaying from heel to heel during the conversation. Your cheeks heat up. The thought of being pregnant makes your heart race. You couldn’t have a child, you took care of 20 children for months on end at school, 21 was not your goal currently. And oh god, after the conversation before he left for his tour…you’d have to tell Bradley. “Bradley is going to kill me.”

“He’s not going to kill you, we don’t even know what we’re dealing with.” He straightens slightly, relaxing into his hip and leaning into the countertop to wipe down the mess from making breakfast.

“Jake.” Your hands are on your hips, dauntingly so in a way that has him feeling like he’s back at Basic, ready to do some punishment push ups.

“If you feel like it’s a concern, we should just go to the clinic down in town,” he shares, wiping his hands dry and putting away the dishes that have dried on the rack with a quick precision that reminds you of his aerial piloting skills. It makes you wish that you could see him glide through the air from thousands of feet off the ground.

“That sounds terrifying,” your voice is airy as you fiddle with the strings of your hoodie, “Sounds too real.”

“Better to get told once that,” Jake clears his throat and walks around the island toward you, gently grazing your covered shoulder and rubbing with a soothing touch. “That there’s a situation as opposed to having to see it on a test then having to go to a doctor. I’ll drive.”

“You knock someone up before Seresin?” you ask as he leads you over to the door. It’s meant to sound like a joke but your tone is high pitched, strained. Your hand instinctively comes up to your stomach as you bend down to grab your sandals from the rack by the front door. It alarms you. Jake must not notice as he slips on his loafers, a delicate chuckle rolling off his chest and dancing into your ears. It’s pleasant.

“Sisters, Dukes,” his Texan accent rings through and suddenly Jake is back to that man who was there when you needed someone. Picking up the pieces Bradley had dropped again. “I’ve got three sisters who all have popped out a few of their own. You and I both know that if I had knocked someone up, you’d have found out about it during our wine nights.” He’s staring at you intensely now, a light hugged by his long lashes and scruff peppered cheeks. The comment relaxes your shoulders, bringing out a smile on your glossy lips.

“I love our wine nights,” you hum, tugging the front door open and letting him lead you over to the passenger side of his large truck that he’d bought after him and the rest of the team were permanently ordered to stay as the lead squad at Miramar.

While Bradley had taken Jenny out to dinner that night to celebrate his new found position, Jake had driven over to your place to show off his new ride and ask you to join him on the inaugural scenic drive down the coast. You had laughed, cranked up the music on the new surround sound and rolled the windows down to let the salty ocean breeze roll through the cabin. Looking at him now, strapping in as he slides easily into the driver’s seat with one hand lazily on the wheel as he backs out of your driveway - you wonder how you hadn’t looked at him this way before.

Jake was beautiful. Well, obvious. The man was a specimen unlike any other you’d seen before. Like a Ken doll with a brighter smile and a southern charm to match. But Jake was raised right, raised by two loving parents who were dedicated and surrounded by a large family of women. He was intelligent, more than he ever wanted to let on. He loved space, asking sheepishly to watch documentaries about Astronauts and Space Stations on a lazy Thursday night when the rest of the crew were down at the Hard Deck.

And yet, here you’d been pinning over Bradley who had never given you the time of day unless it was convenient for him. Please don’t let me be pregnant, you think to yourself as you take off down the main road. It’s quiet in town on the sunny Sunday morning in California and with the heat wave breaking, it was a cool enough day that everyone was out and about at the beaches on the outskirts of the town. Jake pulls easily into a parking space and pushes into park, taking a moment to turn off the radio before he turned to give you a hard look.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“If I’m being honest, I’m not sure,” your words are a mere whisper and he reaches across the middle console to clutch your hand, interlacing your fingertips.

“It’s okay,” he nods, like he’s trying to convince himself before clearing his throat. “We’ll get this figured out.”

“Please for the love of God,” you turn to the roof of the truck, slamming your palms together and squeezing your eyes shut. “Please God, I know I stopped going to church when I was 15 but I beg of you…” Jake collects your hands again, shaking them slightly.

“Cut that out,” he nods to the door. “I’ve got you Dukes.” You both slide from the truck, stepping in line with each other as you head to the front door of the medical clinic. As you enter the building, you’re immediately met with images of mothers and their children, pregnant women and smiling families along the walls of the clinic. It makes you want to throw up again. In fact, you do throw up again and Jake rushes to find the nearest trash can.

He reaches you just in time, cupping the back of your head as you drive heave into the silky black bag. A nurse rushes over, soothing and cooing as you wipe your mouth. “You alright honey?” she asks with a kind tone, smiling apologetically. She’s a bit older than you, curly chocolate locks twisted up into a fluffy bun and gentle eyes.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” you murmur, turning to Jake who discards the trash can into the nurse’s hands and rubs your back in large circles.

“Pretty common answer here,” she says lightly, turning to look at Jake with a raised brow. “Seems like we need to get you guys all checked in for a check up to see what’s going on, huh?” You nod, staring up at Jake as he pulls you close to his side while following the nurse the rest of the way to the front desk. You do your best to avoid the many women, both pregnant and alone, who are sitting in the waiting room. 

You give the woman your name, hand her your insurance card and then take the clipboard to fill out a self identifying medical sheet. You and Jake don’t wait long before the same nurse, Ellie you’d learned, came back out to get you. Jake stood to your right, holding his hand out to help you up in fear that you would get lightheaded. “You two seem very sweet,” she comments while taking your weight and height, ushering you into the exam room. 

“Oh we’re not,” “Thank you,” you both say at the same time, turning to look at each other. Ellie watches with amusement at your stares while typing in your symptoms of the computer. She runs a few exams, checking your blood pressure and doing some blood work. 

“So, I definitely think that we need to do a pregnancy test,” she places her hands on the tops of her thighs as she speaks, gliding closer from the rolling chair to look up at you. “You are showing some clear symptoms and I definitely think we need to rule out an initial positive before we move forward with any other possibilities. Have you two been trying?”

“Excuse me?” you quip, eyes widening as Jake lets out a loud chuckle. His pearly whites are on display as he crosses one leg over the other with his hands twisted.

“Many couples come straight here because they’ve been trying for a child,” Ellie shares as she turns to Jake.

“We’ve,” you pause, staring at Jake for a moment and biting your lip. The look in his eye doesn’t seem like he’s bothered by the assumption and the fear of Bradley’s reaction causes tension in your belly. “We weren’t trying, things are still relatively new.” At your words, Jake’s perfectly plucked brows raise though he still has a grin on his lips. 

“Can’t help myself Ellie,” he responds, leaning confidently back into his plastic chair with an arm draped along the back of the other. “You’ve seen the beautiful woman.”

Taglist:

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comfortzonequeen

[goldstarlimousine]

One of the key advantages of opting for a Long Island Wine Tour Limo is the convenience and luxury it provides. Instead of worrying about transportation logistics, you and your group can relax in style. Professional chauffeurs ensure your safety and provide a reliable means of getting around the wine country. Plus, the interior of the limousine offers ample space for your group to socialize and enjoy the journey.

[aceluxurywinetours]

Looking Limo for wine tours in Long Island? Contact Ace Luxury Wine Tours and book limo today and get the best rate guaranteed. Call 631-307-6004 to book your Long Island Wine Tours Limo.

[faketrex]

We have reached the end of these cakegate bodyswap shenanigans. I hope you enjoy this final part! The whole thing will be up on my AO3 page... eventually.

Thank you kindly for reading and liking and reblogging and making me smile in the tags!

...

SHARING A SLICE... part 6

RWRB, rated T, 1000 words (this part).

(click here for part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5)

...

After brunch, they visit Tower Bridge.

“Over there is the Tower of London.”

“That’s where they locked women up when they didn't pop out babies fast enough for the king, right?”

“Exactly right. Did you know they kept an elephant there, too?”

“What?”

“They fed it bread and wine. I'm sure you’ll be shocked to learn that it died.”

“Y’know, I almost feel like I should cut you some slack. All that inbreeding obviously messed up your brains.”

Henry smiles. It probably looks great to the paparazzi.

After Tower Bridge, it's the Tate Modern, followed by St Paul's Cathedral, Hyde Park, dinner, and then Kensington Palace again for the night.

Yeah, it's a stunt, and yeah, Alex doesn't really get to look at the art or visit the sites, and yeah, he has zero say about the itinerary, but it's not terrible. Henry's not awful company.

By the end of the day, Alex is exhausted. Henry seems just as tired. On the one hand, they’ve convinced the public they're best friends and maybe reached a personal truce. On the other hand, it's twenty-four hours post-caketastrophe and they're still in the wrong fucking bodies.

“We can't stall any longer.” He's watching Henry pace back and forth in front of the windows with the ugly-ass curtains. “I have to go back tomorrow. Well, I mean, you do. You as me.”

Henry doesn't respond.

“How long do you think it’ll take one of us to get arrested for spying? My money's on less than forty-eight hours.”

“I need ice cream,” Henry announces.

“Music to my ears. Lead the way.”

They settle on opposite sides of the kitchen island and eat their ice cream in a half-peaceful, half-melancholic silence.

“Despite the uncanny aspect of it all, I have to admit this hasn't been horrible,” Henry says eventually. “They don't often let me play tourist... and I never get to fabricate pseudo-historical nonsense for a mouthy American.”

Alex nearly fumbles his cone. “Wait, you made stuff up? When?”

Henry shrugs.

“Come on. It was the elephant, wasn't it? I knew there was no way–”

“I assure you, the elephant was real.” Henry taps on his phone and spins it so Alex can see. “He even has his own Wikipedia entry.”

“Elephant of Henry III,” Alex reads, bending closer. “What the fuck.”

The smug expression on Henry's face – Alex's face – and the way he licks his ice cream makes Alex's stomach flip over strangely. His neck feels hot. There's melted ice cream dripping onto his hand.

Without breaking eye contact, Alex slides his free hand over the countertop and rests it on top of Henry's.

“Hey, don't spook, okay?”

His words have the opposite effect. Henry's eyes widen and his shoulders tense like he's getting ready to bolt, but Alex just tightens his grip.

“Maybe... close your eyes?”

“Alex–”

“Suit yourself,” Alex murmurs. As he leans in, Henry takes a deep breath, then closes his eyes. There's a nervous crease between his brows. "Okay. Here goes nothing.”

He mashes what's left of his ice cream against Henry’s face.

“What the hell, Alex?”

So much for that idea.

“Shit. I was thinking maybe the ice cream... after the cake... and I was touching your skin, so...” It doesn't make as much sense out loud as it did in Alex's head.

“You don't–” Henry sputters.

“Listen, I honestly wasn't trying to get back at you for the tour guide shit, I hoped it would fix–”

“No, no, I was wrong, I thought you–”

“What?”

“Alex, don't...” Henry laughs under his breath and reaches out to flatten a sticky palm against Alex's cheek. “Don't spook, alright?”

Before Alex can complain about the mess, Henry brings their lips together in a soft, vanilla-flavored kiss. Alex's stomach flips over again. He closes his eyes. Like this, it's easy to forget he’s kissing himself – and it’s still Henry, isn’t it? It's Henry, kissing him. Henry, kissing Alex.

The kiss is cautious, like Henry's expecting rejection; Alex leans into it anyway. Henry's hand smears ice cream onto his face and the edge of the counter presses into his ribcage, painful, but he wants it. It's shocking how powerful the want is when he hadn't even noticed it before.

Alex slides one hand up Henry's cheek, into his soft hair, and feels – he opens his eyes.

“Well, fuck.” Have Henry's eyes always been so blue? They hadn't seemed that blue in the mirror. They're kind of beautiful.

“Hello,” Henry says. “I'm back? You're back. Are you?”

“I guess. When did you come up with that plan?”

“I – plan?”

“You figured it out? Curse-breaking kisses or something? Wasn't that–” Alex stops. Henry hasn't pulled back from his awkward lean across the counter. From bizarre-but-true personal experience of less than sixty seconds ago, Alex knows for a fact that it's an uncomfortable position.

“If you'd like, I could pretend that it was part of a plan,” Henry offers quietly. “I've got plenty of experience pretending.”

If it's not the truth, though, Alex doesn’t want it. “Nah, no need. Don't get me wrong, it's weird if you don't want any credit for getting us back to normal again, but whatever.”

Henry's incredulous laugh makes Alex feel like kissing him again. “Covered in ice cream is normal for you?”

“Hey, chill. We're having a fucking moment.”

“A fucking moment, truly,” Henry echoes, mocking, but his smile is wide and happy.

“I'm not used to being covered in cake, trading bodies, being covered in ice cream, or kissing princes.”

“No?”

“But I've been branching out lately. Expanding my horizons, y’know.”

“I see. And now you know what to do if any one of those things happens again, I suppose?” Henry squeezes Alex's hand where they're still twined together.

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, squeezing back and leaning in. They've got more to figure out here, but right now it's his turn. Henry kissed him, so now he needs to try it for himself. Simple. “Let me show you. It's a piece of cake.”

...

[limokingnewyork]

[chirpychipslive]

i desire a masterlist of rick wright lore. i absolutely love that man but i don't know half the silly, goofy things he got up to and i need a long-ass post explaining all you know about that little weirdo.

HI HELLO okay so as much as i see and understand a desire for a "rick wright lore masterlist", i don't think i would be able to do proper service by just listing all of the stuff i know off my head, plus i don't want people to see it and just take everything i say at face value and not look into things further if that makes any sense

so instead i will put a rick wright source masterlist under the readmore so people can go watch/read things for themselves in as much detail as they feel comfortable doing so, + i think a lot of people aren't aware of half of the sources i take from

Books

As far as books go your best starting points are Mark Blake's Comfortably Numb and Nick Mason's Inside Out, both of which are much more generalised sources for any Pink Floyd related material - I do have PDFs of both of these (i have physical bought copies too dw), so if you can't read/listen to either of them for any reason DM me and I'll send those PDFs to you :] They're both available widely on Amazon and other bookstores and Inside Out is also available as an audiobook!!

Guy Pratt's My Bass And Other Animals is 75% his own biography and 25% pink floyd related, so while it does have some Rick-related stuff in there, don't go into it expecting any in-detail explanations. Unfortunately I don't have a PDF of this book, but it is widely available and relatively inexpensive to buy (and I totally reccomend it!)

Franka Wright has supposedly been writing a tell-all on her marriage and experiences with him, but there haven't been many updates on it in a while. I've been relatively quiet on everything she's said about him in public as I don't think I have enough information on what happened to properly comment, but if that book does drop expect me to be the first in line to take a look

Websites/Online

Please god if you have even any passing interest use rickwright.com. It's a resource largely made by his estate and has a lot of information on there, it's a really sweet and interesting labour of love and I cannot reccomend it enough

pinkfloydz.com is an older website but has a gigantic catalogue of interviews, which include a large amount of transcribed interviews with Rick from 1996. It's just such a good resource in general and I highly reccomend checking it out, as even if you're not a Rick fan you still have a lot of interviews with the others in there

Here me out here; @mamazano (who has been inactive since 2021) has SO much on there that I don't feel bad putting them down as a source. Almost everything they post about is properly cited so you can find exactly where they came from, and they catalogue a lot of stuff that is locked behind more expensive/less available books. Their attention to detail for citing and sourcing quotes has been so admirable to me even if they're no longer on Tumblr anymore!

Watchlist

Here's links to watch Live At Pompeii, P.U.L.S.E, Delicate Sound of Thunder and Live 8 if you haven't done so already. also Chit Chat With Oysters has him for like 3 minutes

Remember That Night (an On An Island concert film)

Breaking Bread, Drinking Wine (On An Island tour documentary)

Rick talks about Syd for the 2001 Syd Barrett documentary by John Edginton

Broken China interview

Interview with Guy Pratt about PATGOD

There's definitely a lot more but this is the stuff I already had on my Youtube playlist of interviews - here's some that were on there but I haven't watched/listened to in a while so I can't 100% verify them rn (x) (x) (x)

Maybe one day I will try and chronologue all of the shit I know into something comprehensible but that definitely wouldn't just be a Tumblr post or smth lol

In the meantime I do thrive infodumping-wise off specific questions so if there's something more concrete you want me to (attempt to) explain I'm happy to do so! Thank you sm for the ask (I wouldn't have done this otherwise) and please feel free to contact me if you would like anything specific answered :]

[ciginatree]

i swear sugar daddy ricky will NOT leave my mind hhnghrnhhrh

need some form of hc im losing my shit ☹️

The fucking chokehold that sugar daddy ricky has on me is unholy

-Maybe you met him online, maybe you met him on tour, the origin didn't really matter to either of you

-He thought you were absolutely stunning and wanted you to be his asap

-The fact that you're a few years younger than him didn't bother him at all

-It started as a one night stand, both of you enjoying yourselves obviously. Then it turned into frequent hookups. Then he started showering you with gifts

-One night he was insistent on taking you to dinner before you went back to his place. It was a relatively nice restaurant, nothing too fancy, but he paid for everything

-The next day you find a box with a note that reads "Wear this the next time I take you to dinner". Inside was a gorgeous, deep purple, cocktail dress with matching lingerie

-The night you wore that dress he took you to an extravagant restaurant miles away. Lobster, filet mignon, wine, anything you could want he paid for

-When you finally went back to his place you spent all night fucking; the lingerie stayed on the majority of the time

-He buys you diamond necklaces, perfume, silk robes, he even leaves straight cash left in heavily sealed envelopes

-You bring him pleasure and happiness, he makes sure to reciprocate even though he's already incredible in bed

-And the gifts don't stop while he's on tour. Packages will show up on your doorstep and flowers are delivered to your work constantly

-As time passes, he flies you out to various tour stops to show you around the cities. Europe, South America, North America, you name it. He flies you out at least once per tour

-The most memorable vacation he took you on was a two week long trip to a private island resort in Fiji. He had been gone for months on tour and wanted to get away and splurge

-He takes you to clubs and parties, showing you off any chance he's able to. After all, you're his princess, his sugar baby; and he shows off what's his with pride

Tags: @abiomens @exitwoundsx @rumoured-whispers

[seijorhi]

Sea Change

A follow up commission for Settle by the lovely (and very patient) 🐦 anon

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

w.c 5.4k

tw: non/dub-con, pregnancy, breeding kink (kinda), yandere themes, threats of violence, stockholm syndrome, nsfw, smut

When you were younger, you dreamed of a life spent travelling. 

Beautiful sunsets, the melting pot of foreign cities, stretching out on the shores of breathtaking, glittering beaches. Wandering ancient ruins and immersing yourself in the local culture, never growing stagnant, never feeling trapped.

Paradise.

In some way, that lingering desire was what pushed you to go and study in Argentina in the first place. Sure, it wasn’t the carefree, whirlwind adventure you’d imagined as a child, but that didn’t matter. You were leaving home, standing on your own two feet for the first time in your life.

The language was tricky, it took you months before you felt even somewhat confident carrying a conversation. The customs weren’t what you were used to – tiny differences that always left you feeling slightly out of place. Undertaking college in another country brought its own set of challenges, and you were lost and unsure, not knowing whether the course you were on was the right one and terrified of making a mistake.

Still, it was everything. 

Argentina stole your heart. San Juan, with its sleepy, historic atmosphere took root inside of you. It felt like home, almost from the first day you spent there. Even when you were stressed, near broke and drowning under your course work, you were utterly enamoured, enthralled by the vibrant city and its beautiful people. 

You’d joked once on a call back home that it’d take a small miracle to pry you away from Argentina; you loved it here too much. 

Then you met Tooru, and for a while that seemed like a dream come true, too.

It seems cruel, that you’ve been gifted everything you’ve ever dreamed of – and more – with no way of giving it back. Like the universe is laughing at you.

Across the glistening ocean, the sun’s beginning to rise. Perched at the end of the old, wooden pier, your feet dangle off the edge, high tide bringing the ocean up to lap at your ankles. The sky, awash with pink and orange and a smattering of clouds, casts a warm glow over the water, the sea taking on a wine-like hue.

Two seagulls circle overhead, and you smother a bitter laugh, resting a hand atop your swollen belly.

Another beautiful morning in paradise.

A little ways down the shore, the port is already thriving; fisherman returning, others heading out. There’s yachts and whale watching tours and on the far side of the port, a cruise ship, docked for a few days while tourists explore the beaches and the nearby islands, the sight sending an odd pang through your heart.

Here, however, out on the pier in front of the beach villa you’ve made a temporary home, it’s calm. There’s not another soul in sight, no sound but the gentle lapping of waves and the rustle of the breeze blowing through the palm trees. 

You’ll take what peace you can get, even if it is at ridiculous hours of the morning. God knows you’re never blessed with it for long.

Just as you think it, and much like the proverbial devil summoned by a mere thought, an elated cry shatters the morning’s tranquillity. 

“Mama! Mama!!”

You have only moments to brace yourself – the tiny pattering of footsteps quickly approaching – before two little arms are thrown around you and Hatori buries his face against your shoulder. 

You’re supposed to smile. Turn to pull him into your arms, a flurry of sweet kisses while he giggles and kicks in response. 

Instead, you stare at the distant port, the cruise ship with its thousand windows. 

Five more minutes, you want to plead. Just five more minutes. 

But a warm laugh sounds, heavier footsteps following down the pier. “Careful, buddy. You’ve got to be gentle with your mama. You don’t wanna hurt the baby, do you?”

Little Hatori, clutching at your clothes, shakes his head, “Sorry, mama.”

When you can avoid it no longer, you tilt your head towards him, mustering up the required smile. “It’s alright,” you reassure him, smoothing down his windswept locks. “I’m not that fragile.” Though sometimes you feel it; big and bloated, unable to so much as bend over to tie your shoelaces. 

He beams at you, his eyes so much like his father’s.

The same father who leans down to press a lingering kiss to the crown of your head. “We woke up and you weren’t there,” he says, voice deceptively mild as he settles beside you on the edge of the pier, pulling Hatori down to sit on his lap.

“I couldn’t sleep.” 

Which is the truth, technically. Between Tooru’s smothering embrace and the fetus the size of a small pumpkin rolling around and kicking your insides (with an apparent fondness for your bladder) a good night’s sleep has become somewhat of a rarity. 

And, because you feel his stare boring holes into your profile, you feel compelled to add, “It was stuffy inside, I wanted some fresh air.” He can’t fault you for that, can he?

Tooru hums. Uses the arm not holding Hatori to nudge you closer, curling it possessively around your pregnant belly.

“…I don’t like waking up without you.”

To Hatori, barely paying attention as it is, it probably sounds like the halfhearted grumblings of a husband hopelessly in love with his wife. You, who remember all too well the nights spent with the cold bite of metal around your wrist, know better. 

You say nothing, your head falling to rest on his shoulder, watching as the sun continues to rise over the ocean. 

—

“Mama, look! Crab! Crab!” 

Keeping his little hand in yours, Hatori crouches to study the rock pools. Sure enough, scuttling across the rock face a grumpy looking hermit crab avoids the toddler’s pointed finger. 

“It’s a hermit crab, buddy,” Tooru interjects, watching the two of you with what you can only describe as a fond expression. You used to find it endearing, sweet, even. Now, it earns a far less positive response –muscles tensing, discomfort sweeping through every vestige of your body.

But you shove that discomfort aside, doing your best to lean down, mindful of your pregnant belly to talk to the excited boy. 

“Did you know that hermit crabs change their shells? Mhm, when they find a new shell they like, they’ll all come out, line up, try it on and then swap with each other, biggest to smallest.”

Hatori stares up at you, mouth softly parted, eyes wide and wondrous – understanding little, spellbound all the same. 

“Though sometimes they think bottle caps and other rubbish are cool new shells and try to move into those too, which isn’t so good for them.”

Hatori’s a month shy of two and a half, and there’s three things that can hold his attention for hours at a time; the construction site across the street back home, the volleyball Tooru had given him on his first birthday, and the sound of your voice.

Tooru calls him a mama’s boy, looking thoroughly pleased each time he says it, much to your quiet dismay. 

The reality behind his son’s attachment isn’t nearly so touching. 

Hatori clings to you like a mother because you’re the only one he’s ever known. His own abandoned him, and Tooru’s never let anyone else get close. He adores the sound of your voice because there were days where for hours on end, he’d be the only company you had, and talking – even to a babbling infant – was the only thing that kept you from falling to pieces.

You’ve been tempted to resent him for it. 

After all, if you’d never taken that babysitting job, if he hadn’t become so attached – if his father hadn’t been so charming and besotted, and you so naive – perhaps you might’ve walked away. 

Maybe you’d be back home, in the midst of planning your next adventure to escape the boredom of day to day life.  

But Hatori’s innocent in this. 

A baby – well, toddler, now. One day he’ll be older, and perhaps he’ll begin to notice that mommy and daddy’s relationship isn’t like the ones his friends' parents share. That mommy isn’t allowed out of the house and daddy’s affection comes off a little strong. 

Until that day comes, though–

“Your mama’s a clever one, isn’t she, Ha’rii?”

The toddler nods, bright eyed and beaming, and Tooru winks. 

“C’mon, let’s go see the waterfalls.” 

He helps you back to your feet, grinning when you quietly – begrudgingly – murmur your thanks. Not one to let you off the hook so easily, Tooru taps the side of his cheek with a finger, an expectant gleam in those soft, brown eyes.

He wants a kiss.

Won’t move until you comply.

It shouldn’t be a big deal; he’s forced you into far more degrading positions, a simple kiss on the cheek shouldn’t faze you in the slightest. Certainly not when you’re six months pregnant with his kid. 

Such a small, inconsequential act of affection, and yet he takes great pleasure – judging from the wicked delight curling at his lips at your poorly concealed hesitation – in coercing those performances from you, and greedily reaping the rewards. 

Bastard.

Swallowing down the bitter taste in your mouth, you lift yourself up, arms encircling his neck – his own steadying your waist, stroking at your skin – to place a chaste, fleeting peck to his jaw. The bare minimum (you hope) that he’ll accept. 

At the last second, though, his head turns and your mouth instead meets his. His grin widens, smug and satisfied, deepening the kiss the moment you try to pull back.  

– you’ll play along for Hatori’s sake, even if it means losing pieces of yourself along the way. 

—

“I was thinking maybe we could head into town for dinner? I saw a few restaurants on the waterfront when we drove in that looked nice.” 

Back at the villa, Hatori down for his nap, it’s just the two of you alone in your bedroom. 

“O-or maybe tomorrow for brunch? Ha’rii might enjoy seeing all the fisherman and the boats and stuff…” you trail off, trying not to fidget the longer he stares.

Tooru smiles, perhaps a touch indulgently, walking over to where you sit on the edge of the bed. Slowly he drops his knees, presses a soft, languid kiss to each of your knees and one to your stomach – the baby rolling beneath the strangely reverent touch – caressing you like you’re made of glass.

It’s an effort not to shudder, even now. 

For someone in such a public arena, he’s remarkably adept at hiding the depth of his obsession. His sickness. Even around Hatori, he likes to play at being a normal father, a loving husband. 

But there’s no need for masks in the privacy of your bedroom. 

“Mm, but I have something special planned for tonight.”

You swallow, changing tracks, “What about breakfast, then?”

He pauses his ministrations, chin tilting to the side, “Why? You don’t want me to make you breakfast in bed?”

You can’t remember the last time you ate out, the last restaurant, or cafe, or bar that you actually sat down in–

“No! No, it’s not that, I only thought that it might be a nice change. We’re on vacation, right? You deserve a break, too. A-and the walk would be nice, a chance to see the sights and everything.” 

Your smile wavers as the seconds tick by. 

And then, all of a sudden, the tension breaks, Tooru chuckling with a fond shake of his head, 

“Silly girl.” He rises then, tilts your chin up to kiss you again. “Why don’t you lie down for a bit? It’s been a big day, we don’t want you over-exerting yourself. Or the baby.”

It’s never a suggestion with Tooru, and the door shuts with a quiet click that echoes throughout the room.

—

The three of you eat on the balcony overlooking the ocean. The food is amazing, of course. Not the sort of take-out you used to get back when you were living alone, with food piled high into cheap, plastic containers, presentation pushed aside in favour of ease of transport.

No, each plate is as beautiful as it is delicious, with artfully smeared sauces and garnishes arranged just so.

Idly, you wonder which restaurant he had prepare and deliver it, why you couldn’t have just saved them all the effort and gone to eat it in person at the restaurant itself. 

(Not that Tooru would ever allow that. How foolish of you to believe otherwise.)

There’s three courses, four if you include the bowl of bread and dips you’d started the meal with. Champagne (non-alcoholic, of course) and your favourite dessert, which your husband took great pleasure in feeding you while you sat unwittingly on his lap. 

It’s a fancy enough affair that you’d be tempted to believe that this was what Tooru had in mind when he’d told you that he’d had something special lined up for the evening.

You’re proven wrong, however, when you return to the bedroom after settling Hatori down to find a ribbon wrapped box set atop the bed.

“I bought you something,” your husband murmurs, coming up behind you to envelop you in another embrace. His lips ghost along the delicate line of your throat, brushing up against your pulse point. “Try it on for me?”

You force yourself to nod. 

The box itself carries no brand or name, yet the matte finish and flowing gold bow tied perfectly screams opulence. Your fingers tremble as they brush along the lid; it’s beautiful, undoubtedly high quality, but you’d sooner throw the box into the sea than open it.

Your stomach churns. 

“Thank you.”

Funny how such an innocent object can bring about such a visceral reaction. 

You barely register Tooru leaving. He likely wants this particular unveiling to be a surprise – a gift of his own to unwrap and enjoy – but you’re grateful for the privacy nonetheless. 

Slowly, you pull the ribbon loose and lift the lid, setting it aside. Laying carefully folded between layers of black tissue paper is a lingerie set, a blue lace babydoll with matching panties.

What else?

If it were jewellery, Tooru would’ve put it on you himself, taking the opportunity to gush over how beautiful you look, how he loves spoiling you, seeing you draped in precious metals and pretty diamonds.

You would’ve preferred jewellery. You would’ve preferred nothing. 

You’ve heard of husbands losing attraction to their wives during their pregnancy. Pregnancy glow may be a real thing, and your tits have gone up a full cup size, yet with the added weight gain, your baby bump and stretched skin, the puffy ankles and ugly marks around your stomach and breasts, there’s nothing sexy about this.

Far from being disgusted by it – by you – seeing you pregnant and swollen with his kid seems to have unlocked some insatiable desire within your husband. It’s a rare night that he keeps his hands to himself, this– this is just the cherry on top.

Numb fingers work at the buttons of your sundress, the fabric hitting the floor with a quiet thump. Your panties are next, kicked aside after shimmying them off. 

Mindlessly, you dress yourself in the pretty lingerie. 

And it’s fine, it’s fine until you make the mistake of looking in the mirror.

Seeing your reflection, bloated and fat, the grotesque roundness of your stomach, clad in scraps of fucking lace–

You’re hideous. Fat and ugly and hideous and horrifically pregnant. 

A sob claws its way up your throat, your legs giving way beneath you as you sink to the floor. You never wanted this, never asked for it. Kids were a part of the plan, yes – one day, maybe, when you found someone you loved and you were ready to settle down and start a family.

But this has been forced on you, like the ring on your finger, like the sweet boy sleeping down the hallway. You draw in a shuddering breath, curling in on yourself as much as your belly will allow. You’re disgusting. This baby – this innocent creature with no say in its creation – you’d rip it out of your stomach with your bare hands if you could.

You hate it, loathe this soul sucking little parasite feeding off of you, almost as much as you hate Tooru for putting it inside of you. 

Almost as much as you hate yourself, and this gross, jiggling body you had no say in.

Tears fall, anguished and heart-wrenching, the cries muffled by the back of your palm. And still, your cradle that disgusting bump. 

Time passes, you can’t say how much, but enough that Tooru’s impatience wins out. The door to the bedroom creaks open, and you hear the quiet, “Oh, baby,” as his footsteps approach.

You don’t look up as he wraps you in a tender embrace and kisses your hair, don’t acknowledge him all. You hiccup and cry, fat tears rolling down heated cheeks. 

“Stand up for me.”

You hate him, you hate him, you hate him–

“Baby,” a hint of a warning, now. 

Taking the offered arm, you shakily crawl to your feet, refusing to meet his eye. You feel exposed, vulnerable. He’s seen you naked more times than you care to count, but this is different. Every flaw, every ugly part of you on display beneath the ridiculous outfit he’s forced you into.

You’ve never felt less attractive in your life.

You want to curl up and disappear, for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. You don’t want him looking at you as he is, lips softly parted, pupils dilated and simmering with desire. 

“Fuck, you look amazing.”

Even his voice is deeper than usual, thick and heady. You shiver with revulsion, but words are still beyond you. He tilts your chin up, wetness clinging to your lashes, trails of it running down your cheeks. He thumbs at the glistening droplets. Inhales sharply. Unsteadily. 

“So pretty for me,” he breathes. 

He kisses your lips then, surprisingly chaste. Cradles your face like it’s something precious, and that sick, disgusting feeling bubbles away inside of you. You can’t stand it; the feeling of his hands on you, the sickening love in his eyes, the unignorable evidence of his arousal pressing against your swollen middle. 

“Don’t–” your voice wobbles – a pathetic, miserable sound, “don’t touch me.”

He ignores you, as he usually does, reaching down to cup your swollen, tender breasts, squeezing them with an appreciative hum. “They’re getting bigger.”

“Please, Tooru,” you sniffle, hating that he’s brought you to this new low. “Please not tonight.”

You don’t have the energy to explain that it hurts. You’re sore and hormonal and revolted with yourself, and you can’t bear the thought of him touching you. Raping you.

Because that’s what this is, right?

There’s no use sugarcoating the truth. You might not kick and scream every time he fucks you, but that doesn’t make it a consensual act. He drugged you, stole you, raped you, kept you, and now he’s knocked you up and put a ring on your finger and he’s all that you have. Him and Hatori and the unborn, innocent child inside of you – they’re what’s left of your world.

And you can’t stand it.

“Don’t,” you choke out. 

The plea goes unheeded, capturing the hand that weakly swats at him and pressing his lips to your wrist, a heated smile curling at his lips. “Mm, but you look so good like this. Think I wanna keep you in it while I fuck you.”

“Hatori–”

“Is asleep. Now are you gonna lie back and let me take care of my lovely, pregnant wife, or are you going to keep being difficult?” his voice changes then, a hard edge where there wasn’t before. 

He’s never hurt you. Not really, nothing beyond a warning slap – with a fraction of the terrifying strength you know he’s capable of.

There was one night, though, when he’d come home to find Hatori screaming and you in a fit of tears, your nails broken and bloodied, that damnable lock around your ankle without so much as a scratch. He hadn’t hit you then, either, only picked up his son to calm him, his eyes fixed on you as he rocked the boy back to sleep.

It was only when Hatori was down once more, and your tears had dried that he came to sit beside you on the bed. He’d asked to see your ankle – the one you’d been so desperate to free.

The terror that gripped you then, watching as he rolled and flexed the delicate joint in his hands (the same hands you’d seen smash volleyballs with the force of a cannon going off) under the guise of studying your self inflicted damage, humming to himself all the while – it’s seared into you.

All it would take was a sharp twist to snap it, he’d barely break a sweat. As his eyes, a deep, dark brown, had met yours, he’d smiled at you. Like he knew exactly where your mind had jumped to, and wanted you to remember that feeling.

‘Are you going to behave, cutie?’

He wouldn’t dare risk anything that would hurt the baby, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t a thousand other awful ways Tooru can express his dissatisfaction. 

You can’t help it though. Your hormones are swinging wildly out of control, the cracks inside of you fracturing like spiderwebs, and you shake your head, biting down on the pleas that threaten to undo you entirely.

And he sighs. “Baby, c’mon. Work with me here.”

You’re still crying when he ushers you back to lie on the bed, legs parted as he sinks down to his knees between them. 

Tooru’s always held a strange fixation with your thighs, noses lovingly at the smooth expanse of skin.

They’re trembling, goosebumps rising to the surface as the warmth of his breath tickles the plush softness there, and you can’t help the gasping breath you suck in through your teeth when his mouth follows suit, sucking a hot, languorous trail towards your panties. 

You try to dissociate, chest heaving, cheeks still wet from your tears. Your fingers clutch at the soft, white sheets beneath you while you stare at the ceiling fan above, lazily stirring the balmy summer night air. Anywhere but here. You can be anywhere but here if you close your eyes tight–

Tooru’s teeth nip sharply at your skin. Not hard enough to draw blood, mind you, only to pull your attention back where he wants it. That wicked, awful tongue of his is quick to soothe any hurt, though, laving at the abused flesh, a kiss pressed affectionately over the bite. Distracting you – almost – from the way he toys with the scrap of lace barely preserving your modesty. Fingers stroking and teasing at your folds.

He chuckles when you whine, your legs trying half heartedly to push him away. There’s no illusion of control here. Your husband wants, and so he’ll take. 

That’s how it’s always been, from the moment he decided, unbeknownst to you, that he wanted you. It’s the way it’ll always be. 

Tonight is just another reminder, hammering that message home.

“There’s my girl. Let me make you feel nice,” he purrs, squeezing at your hip when you shudder with another choked back sob. “Let me take care of you, hm?”

Nudging the seat of your panties aside, his hot mouth descends on your cunt without waiting for a response.

And you gasp, fingers tightening in the sheets. He’s in no rush, tasting your sex with a languid drag of his tongue. 

If there’s an art to eating you out, it’s one your husband has taken great efforts to master. 

It’s embarrassing how easily you fall apart under his ministrations. How your hips jerk when the pink muscle laps and strokes at your pussy, delving into your core in search of the spots he knows’ll drive you wild. The way your back arches, whole body tensing when he sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks at it with his tongue.

He brings you right to the brink, stroking himself through his shorts as your hips buck to meet his eager mouth. It’s easier to give in, to lose yourself to the pleasure he’s generous enough to bestow. And you feel it building, hot and burning, electric as it surges through your body.

More, more, more.

Every moan is dragged unwittingly from your lips, and they may as well be gold for how Tooru chases them. 

Your hands yearn to shove him off of you, to scrub the memory of his touch from your skin. Your fingers itch to grab him by his stupid hair and hold him in place so you can ride that dizzying pleasure forever. 

The tears fall quicker; you hate him, you hate him, you hate him and you hate yourself even more, but you don’t want him to stop, not when you’re so close. And the moment you begin to tip over the precipice, to hurtle over the edge with him– he pulls back to quickly rid himself of his clothes and wipe off the slick smeared across his jaw. 

It’s unfair, you think, how attractive he is.

Sun kissed, golden skin. Taut, well defined muscles. And that pretty face, so lovely for someone so utterly heartless. 

“Relax,” he laughs, naked now as he climbs onto the bed to settle between your thighs once more, “I said I’d make you feel good, didn’t I?”

Your cheeks burn, and childishly, you turn your face away.

“… I hate you.”

“No,” he denies, kissing your calf as he lifts it to rest upon his shoulder. “You love me. My pretty wife.”

And he fucks you gently, mindful of your swollen belly, and the baby. Takes his time stretching you out on his cock, slowly sinking into your warm, welcoming pussy, filling you to the brim with every roll of his hips.

“You love me,” he repeats, dark eyes greedily drinking down the sight of you in your pretty lingerie, pregnant with his baby.

Wholly his, and falling apart for him once more. 

“You love me,” fingers circling at your clit, the walls of your pussy tightening around his cock. 

You bite down on your bottom lip, desperate to keep yourself from giving him the satisfaction of hearing you cum.

“You love me,” he grunts. 

And you truly think he believes it.

—

Tooru snores lightly beside you, dead to the world.

At the end of the week this little vacation of yours – the babymoon, as your husband had jokingly dubbed it – would end, and you’d go back to San Juan. Life will return to normal; days spent trapped inside the villa, waiting for Tooru to come home from training, from his games, from press conferences and fancy, promotional events.

Maybe this time he’d take you with him. A breath of fresh air, a night out. You could play the role of loving wife well enough, right? For a few hours, at least.

And there’d be Hatori to take care of, and the baby due in a few months. Then Hatori’ll be a big brother. He’s likely too young to truly understand that, but he does perk up when the topic of his soon to be sibling comes up. He likes sitting in your lap and cuddling your middle – a move which admittedly has become slightly more challenging as the baby bump grows. 

You’d love them, love them both despite everything. And you’d be loved in turn. 

That’s the truth, isn’t it? Tooru couldn’t love you more if he tried. Warped and poisonous and all consuming, you’d suffocate under the weight of it, and he’d follow you even then.

There’s nothing for you back home, you haven’t spoken to your family in months. You’d had to beg for that privilege on your knees, the burn in your throat and the bruises on your knees sticking with you for days afterwards.

And he’d stood there while you spoke to them, arms folded across his chest, face pinched and unhappy, the timer on his phone counting down. They don’t know about the baby, and if Tooru has his way they’ll never meet her.

Their granddaughter. Niece. Cousin. You’ll never go home.

And as if he’s cognizant of the ache in your chest, your sleeping husband draws you closer, mumbles softly into the crook of your neck, nuzzling you.  

No, you’ll never have a home that wasn’t carved by his hands.

… But it isn’t just you that that’s true for anymore, is it? 

Tooru’s content with locking you away from the world like a dragon hoarding gold, why should his children be spared that possessive insanity?

Ha’rii’s young, still. So, so young, but it hasn’t slipped your notice that there’s never been any mention of daycare or playdates, you’re hardly able to take him to the park without Tooru getting all huffy. 

And your daughter (a girl, you’re having a baby girl), you can’t imagine he’ll loosen that leash for her. Kids need socialisation. They need friends.

They’ll suffer for it, this love of his. Your family. Your children. 

Rolling over – away from your husband’s oppressive hold – you stare out the window, the glittering lights of the distant port just barely visible. 

It’s so easy to be brave, daring, when you have nothing to lose, and a safety net regardless. Strength was never one of your defining traits to begin with. You broke so easily for him. So quickly. 

You gave up. 

Played with quiet resentment as if it were resistance, and now you’re nothing but a hollow, broken shell of the girl you used to be. 

There’s nothing waiting for you beyond the home he’s built for you. 

Your family haven’t heard from you in months, Tooru says that they’ve moved on. If they truly cared, they would’ve looked for you. Your uni friends have long since forgotten you. You dropped out. Disappeared off the proverbial face of the earth. It happens. 

You have nothing to your name – and even that he’s taken from you.

The crashing of waves outside the window calms your heart. In a few hours, it’ll be dawn. 

In a few days, you’ll return home to San Juan. In a few months, you’ll give birth to Tooru’s daughter, and that little girl will tie you to him for the rest of your lives far better than chains ever could.

Bit by bit, carefully as to not disturb him, you crawl out of bed. A wrinkle appears on your husband’s brow and he shifts with a grumble, subconsciously searching for the warmth you’ve taken with you. But he doesn’t stir, and you breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

Your clothes from yesterday lie forgotten on the floor, numbly, you slip them back on. 

No one else will want you, not now that you’re a mother, pregnant with his child. No one else could ever love you as much as he does. 

And you need him. You think that somewhere deep down, buried beneath the layers of bitterness and self loathing, you might even love him. 

He’s given you no other choice.

A steady inhale, and you glance back at his sleeping form once more. For all his faults – for all that he takes from you, greedy and demanding and wholly unrepentant – he does provide for you. You, Hatori, your daughter, you’d want for nothing.

(Nothing, except your freedom.)

It won’t be long before he notices your absence and wakes to seek you out, and so you silently pad from the room. 

Unlike his father, Hatori stirs when you push the door wide and step inside. “Mama?” his tired voice mumbles, eyes sluggishly blinking open.

You smile for him, reaching out to smooth down those pretty, dark curls of his. “Shh, go back to sleep, sweetheart,” and you kiss his forehead, pulling the blankets up to tuck him back in. “Mama loves you, remember that.”

He’s fast asleep by the time you reach the doorway.

You have nowhere to go. No money. No passport. No way back home and no guarantee that anybody’s waiting for you there, anyway. 

He loves you. More than anyone. More than anything. You’ll never be cared for and adored like you are when you’re with him. 

You need him.

… Your daughter needs you more, and it’s that thought alone that spurs you onwards. 

There’s some cash in Tooru’s wallet that you slip into your bra, a jacket of his that you pull around your shoulders. 

A little ways down the shore, the port is beginning to wake.