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thewintersoldierdisaster · 1 year

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a/n: this one actively broke my heart while writing it and i hope i did the topic justice. title came from a song on @pyotrkochetkov ‘s barzy playlist and i just knew i had to write something angsty for it. a bunch more happy and smutty long fics and headcanons are coming! seriously, let me know what you thought of this one - much heavier and angstier than i usually write 😬 ignore any inconsistencies, i’m not an expert on this particular medical procedure or professional hockey team travel

word count: 7k

tw: miscarriage, subsequent emotions

summary: on a mini trip to vancouver to watch andrei play, you suffer the worst loss of your life. andrei is your rock throughout the ordeal

Vancouver is a fun city - maybe not as fun as Raleigh or New York, but fun nevertheless - and you’re excited that part of the Canes’ Western road trip fell close to Thanksgiving weekend so you could join in for a bit of it without having to miss too much time at work. Part of your goal this season, your first married to Andrei, is to see him play in every arena. You’ve managed a few of the east coast arenas so far, but this is your first time out west. Nykki joined you too, so it’s like a mini-girls’ trip rolled into a ‘supporting our men’ trip.

The team’s there before you and Nykki get to Vancouver, having already played in Seattle two days before. It’s actually been slightly more than a week since you’ve seen Andrei in person and you miss him a lot. You’ve been with him for four years now, so you’re used to the travel and not seeing him for chunks of time, but this week feels extra hard. Luckily, after this little West Coast swing, Andrei will be home for a good chunk of time - the quirks of the NHL schedule are always insane to you.

You and Nykki get dinner before the game, discussing her wedding plans. It’s scheduled for early August, but time is already flying. You’re a bridesmaid, but you’ve been pushing off picking a dress, knowing that it’s not going to fit you by the time the wedding happens. Your fingers curl carefully against your stomach, hidden by the table and the bulk of your sweater, your little secret.

Butterflies roll in your stomach, excitement mingling with nerves, knowing that you’re going to tell Andrei the news after the game tonight. It’s so early in your marriage, and you’re definitely freaking out a little bit, but the idea of a little baby that looks like Andrei is enough to help the excitement win out.

“Martin wants to do Bali for the honeymoon,” Nykki tells you while you find your way to your seats. You bought tickets for the lower bowl, wanting to be in the middle of the crowd and all the excitement. The Canucks fans are already a little rowdy, with warmups halfway over. There’s a few Canes jerseys smattered through the crowd, but it’s certainly an uneven match.

You sip at your overly large Coke, your stomach turning a little. Dinner isn’t sitting right with you, but it’s manageable for now. “Bali’s nice, I mean, so I’ve heard. But what’s the weather like in August?”

Nykki points at you, her other fingers wrapped around her beer can. “That’s what I said! I thought it would be unbearably hot and humid, but apparently it’s gorgeous - 86 and barely any rain,” she grins. “I promised he could be in charge of the honeymoon, so I think we’re going to Bali.”

“Well,” you smirk back, “there are worse places to spend two weeks with your gorgeous NHL player husband, Nyk.”

She laughs and takes a sip of her beer, eyes twinkling. “You have a point there. How about you and Andrei? What are the big summer vacation plans?”

You pause, thinking of an answer because you’re anticipating having a newborn this summer, so a vacation isn’t likely to happen. Andrei’s been floating the idea of a mini European tour - hitting Rome and Paris for a few days each before heading to Russia for a little bit to visit family. But you haven’t really committed to plans since it’s only November and you have plenty of time. “We haven’t really talked about it,” you answer Nykki truthfully. “Drei’s been focused on the season and I’ve been busy with work. He doesn’t like to plan anything before the end of the regular season anyway.”

“Superstition,” Nykki sing-songs, putting her beer in the cup holder as she stands for the anthems. You get to your feet, pulling off your baseball hat and holding it over your heart, humming along with both anthems. You shift your weight from foot to foot, stretching out your lower back a little.

The puck drops and the game starts - Andrei’s almost immediately put in the penalty box, complaining and shouting at the ref the entire time he skates over. His hands fly in the air as he gestures, but his passion isn’t moving the ref at all and he takes his seat in the box, slumping down. You laugh, shaking your head affectionately. He’s a sweetheart off-ice, but on the ice, Andrei is a borderline criminal. He’s leading the team in penalty minutes and you’ve definitely heard plenty about how he doesn’t deserve it.

The game clock ticks down, Andrei’s released from the box and immediately scores on a breakaway. You and Nykki jump from your seats, screaming and cheering with the Canes up one to nothing. The Vancouver fans around you glare and chirp, but you and Nykki just laugh, giving back as good as you get.

It’s pure fun to be supporting the visiting team and you and Nykki thoroughly enjoy yourselves, dancing to the music and gossiping during TV timeouts and slower moments. Nykki gets another beer and you refill your soda, your stomach still acting up. The popcorn Nykki gets is too salty and you end up joining the crowd when they start throwing their own snacks at the refs. It’s a penalty called on the Canucks, which is good news for you, but the crowds enthusiasm is infectious.

The fans of the Canadian teams are definitely a little more intense and vocal with their displeasure with the refs, you’ve noticed. A particularly obscene chant breaks out when Brady dances around one of the Canucks’ defensemen to set up a powerplay goal for Brent Burns.

You and Nykki throw your arms up and cheer, screaming yourselves silly. Your stomach cramps a little and it puts a damper on the celebration and also serves as a reminder that you really need to see a GI doctor to determine if you’re actually lactose intolerant or if you have a gluten allergy. You grimace and sit back down, clenching your stomach a little, which seems to help. The rest of the second period flies by and the boys are up two to one.

The people around you start to shuffle off to get more food or go to the bathroom, now that the second intermission has started. You finish the rest of your soda and shift in your seat. Nykki looks over at you curiously. “You okay? You seem like you’re kind of uncomfortable,” she says, twisting her hair back into a ponytail.

“I’m fine,” you hum. “My back is killing me though. I must’ve tweaked it on the flight over.”

“You want an Advil?” Nykki’s already shaking around her purse and you can hear things rattling around.

“Let me go refill my drink, pee, and then yeah, I’ll take an Advil,” you reply, holding the reusable cup to your chest and getting out of your seat. Nykki pulls her knees to the side and you scoot past her, stopping when she makes a little noise. “What?”

“Babe, I think you need a tampon too,” she whispers, gesturing to the back of your jeans.

Your eyebrows draw together. You’re not getting your period anymore. “Tamp-?” The word catches in your throat and your eyes go wide. Your mind spins as the pieces start clicking into place and, as if to serve as the final kick in the ass sign, your lower stomach twists unpleasantly with a sharp cramp. Tears fill your eyes and you reach down to grab Nykki’s hand. “Um, surprise, I’m pregnant, but maybe see should go to the hospital or an urgent care?”

Half a dozen emotions cross Nykki’s face before it settles on shock, but all you can focus on now is the persistent cramping in your stomach. The cramping that’s been bothering you all day and you ignored, thinking nothing of it. God, you’re a terrible mother already.

“Okay, okay,” Nykki jumps to her feet, squeezing your fingers and dragging you out of the row and up the stairs to the main concourse. Her other hand is gripping her phone tightly and she’s jabbing at it with her thumb. “I’m calling an Uber. The hospital is like a ten minute drive.”

You nod, feeling numb as Nykki drags you along, your feet stumbling to keep up as you dart around the people waiting in lines for the bathroom and for food. How could your whole night - your whole life - have just taken a complete one-eighty in the matter of minutes. The cold Vancouver air hits your face like a slap, shocking some feeling back into your body. You wish it hadn’t.

The cramping is worse, the feeling between your legs - blood - like free bleeding during your period, but worse, so much worse.

Your stomach lurches and you rip your hand from Nykki’s grasp, bending at the waist and vomiting into a bush next to the entrance to the arena. “Oh, it’s going to be okay. Let it out,” Nykki’s voice is soothing and she rubs a hand in between your shoulder blades while your stomach seizes and you vomit again, spitting into the dirt.

Tears streak down your cheeks and your throat burns now. “I want Andrei,” you whisper, heart clenching with grief.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Nykki guides you towards the rideshare pick-up area, where a four-door sedan is already waiting. “I’ll get a hold of him somehow, but let’s take care of you first, okay?”

You let her bundle you into the backseat of the car and swallow back your tears, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes hard enough to see starbursts. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you try to calm down, you don’t know what’s happening for sure. Even though it feels very much like the end of something, you have to find a little piece of hope to keep yourself sane. The driver catches your eye in the rear view mirror as he pulls out of the arena parking lot, his mouth twisted down in a concerned frown even as his eyes are slightly judgmental. He’s driving you from a hockey game to a hospital - god knows what he’s thinking about you.

Nykki squeezes your knee and smiles gently at you, even as she’s typing on her phone with her other hand. “It’s still intermission, no one’s going to have their phone on them, but I’m trying to see if I can get through to one of the trainers or something. Just stay calm and we’ll figure it out,” she’s no-nonsense and you’re so grateful for her taking control of the situation.

Your lower back complains as the driver hits a pothole and another leak of fluid rushes between your legs. The drive is too long and too short all at once and before you know it, you’re being admitted to the Vancouver General Hospital emergency room and deposited on a bed, a curtain drawn around you. A nurse with warm, sympathetic eyes and a kind smile does your intake, her lips twisting to to side as you’re answering her questions.

“I just found out a few days ago,” you whisper, starting your fingers together. “I haven’t even told my husband.”

“Mrs. Svechnikov,” the nurse pats your arm comfortingly, “we really don’t know anything for sure until we get an ultrasound. Try not to put added stress on your body.”

You don’t even bother correcting her about your last name, the Russian name sounding strange in her Canadian accent. Nykki comes behind the curtain, clutching her phone. “There’s about ten minutes left in the third,” she says. “I can’t get ahold of anyone, but I’ll keep trying.”

“We’re going to get an OB down here and check everything out, okay?” The nurse says kindly, but brusquely, and then disappears back into the main emergency room. You roll your neck so your cheek is resting on your shoulder and a few tears leak out of your eyes.

“You didn’t leave any messages or anything for Andrei, right?” You ask. “I don’t want him to see and freak out.”

Nykki brushes your hair off your forehead and shakes her head. “No, I left a few messages for Martin to call me as soon as he could. I figure I’ll get to Andrei that way. Do you need anything?”

“Just Andrei,” you hiccup a sob, pressing a shaking hand to your mouth. Your other hand hovers over your stomach, afraid to touch it. The bleeding hasn’t stopped, so despite what the nurse said, you know it’s a miscarriage. Your stomach rolls and you press your lips together tightly so you don’t vomit.

“I’ll get him here as fast as I can,” Nykki reassures you. While you wait for the OB, she absently braids your hair back from your face, tying it off in an efficient, utilitarian French braid down your back. She talks as she works, trying to distract you, and you’re grateful for her efforts even if they don’t work. All you can think about is the little life that had been growing in you just a few hours ago. Your heart lurches painfully when you realize Andrei’s going to find out about the pregnancy and the loss all at once.

The OB is a middle-aged Black woman with a slight Canadian accent who introduces herself as Doctor Hayes and she doesn’t sugarcoat the news, which you appreciate. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Svechnikov,” she sighs, looking very much like she hates this part of her job. “But you are actively miscarrying right now. We’re going to admit you overnight for monitoring and will reevaluate in the morning.”

Your entire body goes cold at her words and you grip Nykki’s hand - you hadn’t let her leave your side, terrified to be alone. A cramp rips through your lower body and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. “What-“ your voice is hoarse and you clear your throat, trying again, “what, um, are the next steps?”

Doctor Hayes rests her hands on the guard railing on your bed. “Well, we’ll have you on a hydration IV throughout the night while we monitor the miscarriage. There may be a need for a D and C, to make sure it’s complete and there’s no tissue left behind.” Your face blanches as she talks. “But all of that will depend on what happens tonight.”

“Thank you,” you murmur and she pats your hand gently, sympathetically, as she leaves. You can hear her giving the nurse instructions and you slump back against the pillows, completely drained.

Nykki checks her Apple Watch and grimaces. “It’s Martin. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Be gentle with Andrei, okay?” You reply, desperately wanting him at your side, but also wanting to protect him from this heartbreak a little longer.

She’s back in a few minutes, after the nurse has started you on an IV. “Martin’s going to bring him over,” she says, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t tell him why you were here, just that you started to not feel well during the second,” she says. “It sounded like Andrei was halfway out the door before Martin could finish his sentence.”

You nod faintly. That sounds like Andrei. “I hope they don’t get slammed by Rod for leaving…” You twist your wedding rings around your finger, the diamonds catching the fluorescent lighting.

“They won’t,” Nykki says firmly. “He’d have to be a real bastard to punish Andrei for coming to the hospital for you. Besides, someone should’ve been available to get Andrei here earlier! It’s ridiculous.”

“Let him have an extra hour of normalcy,” you sigh, shifting on the bed, sore and uncomfortable.

You’re moved into a private room and given a hospital gown that bares your entire back and ass. A giant pad that’s probably as big as a damn puppy pee pad is wedged in between your legs to contain the bleeding and the IV is tugging unpleasantly at your skin. Nykki’s waiting downstairs to bring Andrei directly to you and you hope he’s here soon because now that you’re alone, the reality of the situation is sinking in and your chest is starting to feel tight. You turn your head and try to bury your face in the pillow, but you catch a whiff of the lingering Tom Ford Lost Cherry perfume you’d applied earlier mixed with antiseptic and sterile hospital smell and your brain briefly registers that it’s a shame, because you really love this perfume and now you’ll never be able to wear it again. Your heart thumps painfully in your chest, a reminder that you’re losing more and more of your baby with each passing second.

You hear him before you see him, the pounding of his footsteps echoing through the hallways. He’s running down the hall, that much is clear, and when you look over at the door, you catch the blur of Andrei skipping completely past your room before he doubles back and skids to a stop in the doorway.

He looks terrible - hair still damp with sweat, the red mark across his forehead from his helmet is still prominent, and he looks like he got dressed in the dark - or an extreme hurry - in a pair of basketball shorts and his button down with the buttons done up all wrong. But it’s the look of complete panic in his eyes that scares you the most. Andrei never looks that panicked.

“Solnyshka,” he breathes, his shoulders dropping from around his ears. In three long strides he’s at your side, holding your hand, and you finally feel like you can breathe.

“Hi,” you whisper before bursting into tears.

“Hi,” he replies softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. His grip is almost painful, but you welcome it as you hiccup. “What’s going on, solnyshka?”

Insanely, the only words that come out of your mouth are, “your shirt is buttoned wrong.”

Andrei looks surprised, “what?” he asks absently as his gaze flickers down to his shirt. He shakes his head, “I rush. Solnyshka,” his voice is high and nervous, “what is going on? Neci didn’t know anything. Just that you’re here, in hospital.”

“I…Andrei, I’m so sorry,” the words rush out of your mouth on a flood of fresh tears. “I was pregnant and now I’m not. I lost the baby.”

You’re not even sure if Andrei can even understand you, you’re crying so hard. But one glance at his face and the completely shattered expression it wears, and you know he understood you. His fingers tighten around yours and he’s shaking his head, hair falling forward over his forehead.

“What? I don’t - a baby?” He rubs at his forehead with his other hand, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “When did you - why didn’t -“

He can’t seem to get a full sentence out and it only makes you cry harder, your entire body hurting with the effort. You know what he’s asking though.

“Last week,” you manage. “The day after you left. I was going to tell you tonight, but…” You trail off, shrugging one shoulder.

Andrei’s head hangs, chin to chest, and he makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “I’m so sorry, milaya,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

The worst of your tears are drying up and you shake your head. “It’s not…I had Nyk. I hate that you had to find out like this. Baby and then no baby, all at once,” your voice cracks and you trace the little embroidered A.S. on his cuff, barely able to look at him.

Your husband sighs and drops his head so he can rest his forehead against yours. He smells like sweat and fear and Old Spice and your throat clogs with emotion again. “I thought…” he breathes. “I hear hospital and I think the worst. I thought the worst.”

This is the worst, you think. The worst possible thing. But you know what he means, that he thought something even more awful had happened to you, that he was worried he lost you because he didn’t know there was something else to lose.

Andrei’s lips brush against your cheek, soft and delicate, the rasp of his stubble a stark contrast. You sit like that, foreheads touching, for who knows how long. Andrei doesn’t cry, but his chest hitches and you think he might, maybe, when it all sinks in. You’re all cried out and now there’s just bone-deep exhaustion.

“i’m tired,” you murmur, the words getting lost between you.

Andrei nods against your forehead and pulls back, looking like it takes him a huge effort to sit back up. He cups your cheek and his thumb strokes a careful arc over your cheekbone. You lean into the familiar gesture, comforted. “Sleep, okay? I’ll…I have to call Rod. Get my stuff. I’ll take care of everything,” his voice is steady, but his eyes are clouded.

You nod, your eyelids already closing. Andrei gets up and brushes his lips over your forehead, murmuring that he loves you. Once he’s outside the room, you can hear him talking quietly to Nykki and Martin, but your grief and exhaustion pull you under before you can really concentrate on what he’s saying.

Sleep doesn’t last and you’re awake again after a few hours. You blink awake blearily, confused for a second before everything comes rushing back. Andrei’s scrunched up in a chair in the corner, his chin propped up on the palm of his hand, eyes shut. He changed in the time since he left, now dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. His legs are kicked out in front of him, a pair of white sneakers on his feet. You don’t want to wake him, but when you shift, a sharp pain pierces your side and you gasp loudly before biting down hard on your tongue to muffle the noise. It doesn’t work and Andrei’s eyes fly open, his entire body jerking.

“Hey,” he’s at your side in a second, “what hurts? I call a nurse?” His accent is thick with sleep and worry.

You shake your head, the pain subsiding. “I’m fine.” And you are, the worst of the cramps are gone, leaving just a vague soreness and uncomfortable tightness in your chest and stomach. “You should’ve gone back to the hotel.”

“And leave you?” Andrei looks at you like you’re crazy. He shakes his head. “I got my bag and Nykki brought yours back. Do you want anything?”

“No,” you reach for his hand and lace your fingers together. “I just want to go home.”

He nods, looking exhausted. “Me too. I spoke to Rod, if you’re discharged later today then you come with us on the plane. If not, I stay and come home with you when you’re ready,” his lips quirk up at the corner when you start to protest. “Is decided, solnyshka. I’m not leaving your side.”

“But…” you trail off, all the arguments that you can think of fading when you realize that you don’t want to be separated from Andrei, not right now. “Okay,” you whisper.

“Good,” he chuckles under his breath. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“No arguments from me,” you reply dryly, rolling your head so your cheek is on the pillow and you can look directly at him. “Why don’t you try and sleep some more? I’m not going anywhere.”

His jaw tightens a bit. “Can’t sleep,” he replies, even though you had just seen him asleep. “If the doctor comes, I want to be awake.”

You nod again, sore and tired, and Andrei just sits with you quietly for a while before you think to ask, “how was the game?”

He snorts. “We won, but who cares?” It’s such an unexpected answer - Andrei’s never not cared about winning a game - and it startles you into silence.

A nurse comes in a few minutes later, saving you from having to find an answer. She introduces herself as Kayla and speaks in a soft, but firm tone. You’re starting to recognize the undercurrent of apology and sympathy in the nurses and doctors’ tones and you’re beginning to hate it. Andrei doesn’t let go of your hand while she checks your vitals and puts another bag of saline on the IV pole. “The OB will be in soon to do another ultrasound and see if you need a D and C,” Kayla says gently. “But everything else looks good. You won’t be staying another night and I would guess that you’ll be out of here by early afternoon at the latest, either way.”

You nod robotically, not really absorbing what she’s saying. By this afternoon, everything will be over and you’ll for sure, 100% not be pregnant anymore. It’s a gut punch, even though you knew this was coming. Andrei asks the nurse a few more questions before she leaves, but you don’t really listen, focusing on a small stain on a ceiling tile. It looks like nothing at all, just a blob of brown, but the more you stare at it, the more your vision unfocuses, the more it starts to look like one of those stereotypical ultrasound blobs.

You don’t even realize that you’re crying again until Andrei wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Try and sleep again,” he murmurs, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “I think you’ll need strength.”

“Can you get me some water?” You ask, running your hands over the braid Nykki had done. It’s so messy and it feels like she fixed it a million years ago, but it was only four or five hours. It feels like another lifetime, sitting in the arena and joking around with her. From halfway through second intermission to a hospital room at 2 a.m. Certainly not how you were picturing the end of your trip to Vancouver.

You think you must fall asleep again because the next thing you know, there’s sun coming through the window and Andrei’s at your side again, his large hand resting on the top of your head, cradling the crown. Unfamiliar doctors and nurses are in the room and they all speak to you and Andrei, but the only words you hear are “incomplete miscarriage” and “quick procedure” before you’re being shuffled off to an operating room. It all happens too fast for you to even be scared and the last thing you remember before the anesthesia is Andrei by your ear, whispering in Russian to you, the spicy scent of his deodorant filling your senses.

Andrei’s there again, when you wake up, eyes looking red and face drawn. You’re barely conscious, but the sigh of relief he exhales permeates the fog. His hand is warm in yours and you manage a weak smile at him. “Hey there handsome,” you croak and he laughs weakly. “Miss me?”

“You…” Andrei coughs, “I love you very much.”

“Love you,” your words slur a bit. “I wanna go home.”

“Soon, solnyshka,” Andrei promises, stroking your hair. “Soon.” He’s still stroking your hair when you fall asleep again.

When you wake up again, the overwhelming sense of emptiness is what you notice first. Then Andrei comes into focus again, his weight of his head resting on your leg, his hand on your hip. You’re not sure if he’s awake or not, but you gently run your fingers through his hair and he looks over at you, shifting.

“Hi,” he murmurs, dark circles under his eyes.

“Hi,” you rasp back, fingers still working through his hair.

“How do you feel?”

“Sore, tired,” you hesitate, “empty.”

“Yeah,” Andrei’s reply is barely an exhale. “Doctor said we can go, once they give you the all-clear.”

You nod, chewing at your lower lip. “Andrei,” you choke his name, the words coming out like broken glass, “we don’t have a baby anymore.”

“I know,” Andrei replies simply, sitting up all the way and leaning forward to gather you into his arms. You go to him easily, moving carefully and ignoring the pull of your protesting muscles, and bury your face against his chest. He’s in the same black t-shirt and he smells stale now, like he needs a shower desperately, but under that he just smells like Andrei, like home, and you cry into his chest, the fabric growing wet under your face. He just holds you, his arms a strong cage around your back, his hands running up and down your back. Everything in your body hurts, but nothing more than your heart.

Throughout the next few hours, when you’re given a clean bill of health, instructions to take it easy and abstain from sex or using a tampon for three weeks, and discharged, Andrei is a rock. He’s right at your side, helping you get dressed in the soft joggers you were using as pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. He laces up your sneakers for you and carries all the bags out to the waiting Uber. You were discharged in time to make the team flight home, but after hearing Andrei on the phone before the doctor came in for your exam, you kind of suspect that he may have pressed Rod to change the travel plans. You can’t even start to think about what he’s done for you, exhaustion seeping to your bones.

No one says anything to you when Andrei ushers you onto the plane, but Neci gives you a small smile and squeezes your hand when you walk past him. You return the smile, feeling awful that Nykki has to fly home on her own. She’s been texting, checking in on you, and you haven’t answered yet, too distracted to deal with even holding your phone. Andrei bundles you into a seat near the back of the plane and wraps his jacket around you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Anything for you, solnyshka,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Try and sleep, long flight. I have the pain pills, if you need, okay?”

You nod against his shoulder and wrap his jacket tighter around your body, tucking your hands up into the sleeves. Andrei rests his palm on your knee and before the plane even takes off, you’re asleep.

It’s a long flight back to Raleigh and you don’t sleep the entire way, but after a solid three hour nap, you wake up feeling better. Andrei’s asleep when you wake up, his head dropped back against the headrest, his mouth open slightly. He finally looks relaxed and peaceful and you’re grateful, so grateful, for him.

Your whole body still hurts, but your legs are starting the cramp up, so you carefully shimmy out of your seat to stretch in the aisle. Brady and Jarvy wave at you from a few rows up and you wave back, wondering what they know, if they know anything. No one really tries to talk to you, so you assume Andrei told them that you had some kind of medical emergency. Legs feeling better, you settle back into your seat, finally pulling out your phone and connecting to the in-flight wifi so you can text Nykki.

She reassures you that none of the other guys know what happened and that if you need anything when you’re back in Raleigh to let her know. You’re blessed to have such a good friend in her and you thank her, thinking that maybe in a few days you’ll see if she’ll bring Gigi over for some puppy cuddles.

Andrei wakes up about and hour before you land and he gulps back half of a water bottle before he even says anything. Then he tips his head close to yours and whispers, “how are you feeling? Any pain?”

“No,” you whisper back, “I’m okay. Just sore. It’s like being drained after a really bad period. I feel better after my nap.”

“Good,” he pushes the half-empty water bottle into your hands. “Drink.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease, the moment of lightness making you feel a little better. You sip at it slowly, starting to get a little nauseous. Andrei wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean against him, drawing comfort from his solid warmth.

When you land, Andrei guides you off the plane, his palm reassuring against your lower back. It’s easy to let him take the lead and to not think about anything. He’s got both of your bags and you don’t even put up a fuss when he refuses to let you carry even your purse. You’re just too tired.

Andrei’s car is parked fairly close and you don’t have to walk very far. You lower yourself into the front seat of the Lamborghini, muttering, “I hate this car.” Your stomach gives a protest of pain from having to climb into the car.

“I know,” Andrei laughs a little, loosening up. His string of ugly sports cars is a long running topic of conversation. The last one was orange, the one before that a strange green. This one is electric purple and it’s hideous. His terrible taste in car colors is his only red flag. “Next one will be red.”

“Why couldn’t this one have been red?” You ask, breathing deeply to stave off the nausea. You sink back against the seat and Andrei pulls out of the parking spot. He’s driving must slower than usual and is taking extreme care with navigating the roads.

“This one was only 75 made,” he explains again. “It’s a collectors item.”

“It’s still ugly,” you tease, a smile playing at your lips.

He reaches over and takes your hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I love you so much, moya solnyshka, and I’m so…proud of your strength.”

Andrei doesn’t look at you when he says it, but his voice gets thick and he swallows roughly. He continues, “it hurts to know there would’ve been a baby in the summer.” So he did the math, you think. “But, this is maybe the wrong thing to say, but I’m glad I didn’t know before.”

It’s not really the right thing to say to you in the moment, but you can’t blame him. You sniff and nod. “I know. I almost wish I hadn’t known either. It was only a week, but I was so attached to…to the idea of our baby.”

“When you’re ready,” Andrei says slowly, turning to look at you while you’re stopped at a red light, “you tell me and I’ll give you a baby. When you’re ready.”

You nod, unable to even think about trying for a baby right now, but Andrei’s words and his earnest expression make your heart melt. You love him so, so much. “When I’m ready,” you repeat, squeezing his fingers.

When you get home, Andrei runs you a shower and joins you after a minute, soaping up your hair and scrubbing down your body gently. You don’t speak while he works and his touch is nothing but chaste. He’s careful around your stomach and between your legs, impossibly gentle with those huge hands of his. You stand under the spray while he gives his own body and hair a quick wash, the heat of the shower starting to make you a little lightheaded. Right before it gets to the point where you think you’re going to have to say something, Andrei flips the water off and reaches out of the stall for a huge, fluffy towel, wrapping you up in it and rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm. He grabs another towel and wraps it around his waist, gripping your elbow and guiding you back to the bedroom.

You rummage in his drawers for oversized clothes, not wanting anything constrictive on your body. Once you’re comfortable in an old pair of Andrei’s grey sweats and a threadbare Duke t-shirt, you crawl under the covers and curl up on your side. “Join me?” You ask, looking up at Andrei. He nods, silently climbing into bed behind you and gently scooting you closer to him. The warmth of his body is comforting against your back and he wraps his arms loosely under your breasts, avoiding your stomach. Andrei buried his face in your hair and you let a few silent tears leak out of your eyes.

What did you do to deserve this wonderful man?

With Andrei’s arms around you and your heart heavy in your chest, you fall asleep again, but it’s unsatisfying. After a few hours, you need food even though you’re still nauseous. Andrei makes himself a sandwich and warms up a can of chicken soup for you and you eat in bed, a rerun of The Nanny on TV. Andrei doesn’t really get the show - the humor is too specific - but he does like to point out all the outfits that Fran wear and he thinks you can pull off. It’s a nice distraction.

You take the next few days off of work, just to recover, but Andrei isn’t as lucky. You’re mostly fine physically except some lingering soreness, most of your problems are mental. After talking about it on the way home, neither you not Andrei has really brought up the miscarriage.

Two days after the miscarriage, the team is playing at home and Andrei’s right there in the middle of it all. You don’t watch the game, still too raw to watch hockey after what happened in Vancouver, so it’s a little shocking when he comes home with a blackened right eye and a cut across his nose and part of his cheek. “What happened?” You yelp upon seeing him, getting carefully to your feet and reaching up to lightly touch the side of his face.

Andrei grunts. “Distracted, got hit,” he winces when he moves his face.

You feel awful, knowing he was distracted because he was worrying about you. “Luckily it didn’t need stitches,” you say softly. “Can’t have anything ruining that pretty face,” you tease him lightly.

He gives you a tight smile and his gaze flickers down to your stomach, covered in an oversized sweatshirt. You catch his look and brush your thumb over the edge of his jaw. “I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much,” you say. “I’m tough. I’m strong.”

“I know,” Andrei sighs, dropping a kiss to your forehead. He hesitates, wanting to say more, and you wait. “At the game,” he says slowly, “Burnsie, Staalsy, they had their kids there. I couldn’t help…I was picturing…”

Oh.

Your heart cracks right over the scabs that had been forming the past two days and fresh pain floods your veins. “Drei…” you’re not even sure what to say to him. You knew he was sad, but you hadn’t really thought about how deep his feelings went.

He smiles sadly at you. “Today, it hit me,” he says, twisting his lips. “We lost a baby.”

“Yeah,” you reply, throat tight. “We did.”

Andrei pulls you close, twisting his hand in the end of your ponytail. “I wasn’t expecting it to hurt like this, when I didn’t even know for very long,” he murmurs and you can feel a few tears drip onto the top of your head. You wrap your arms around his waist tighter.

“I don’t think that matters,” you mumble. “It hurts no matter how long you knew about it.”

You can feel Andrei’s head turn, his cheek pressing against the top of your head. You just stand there in his arms, holding tightly to the only other person that’s feeling the same pain as you. The longer Andrei holds you, the more you feel your fragile heart mending itself, the steady beat of his heart a constant under your cheek.

After that, things slowly start getting back to normal. You’re physically healed and cleared to resume normal activities. Andrei’s not so distracted during games. You can go hours, days without thinking about the baby that’s gone.

Andrei mentions it, off-hand, about a month after you get home from Vancouver, after he’s back from another quick road trip. “We could’ve been telling our families about the baby at Christmas,” he’s clearly been thinking about it.

You nod, a little startled by his comment. “Probably, yeah. Or we would’ve told them already, too excited to keep a secret,” you smile a little to yourself, thinking about how Andrei almost spoiled his proposal twice before he actually popped the question because he was so excited.

He grins at you, dimple popping, and pushes a slim box across the table at you. “Early Christmas present,” he says, answering your unasked question.

Looking at him suspiciously, you pop the lid on the jewelry box, finding a thin gold chain bracelet with two delicate charms on it - the common blue and white Greek mati to ward off the evil eye and a little horizontal cross attached at each end to the chain. You trace your fingers over the chain and look up at Andrei.

“A little luck?” He says, lifting one shoulder. “I saw it in a store window, in Long Island, before we played. Made me think of you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, getting out of your seat to kiss him softly. You trace your tongue over his lower lip and desire stirs in your stomach, something foreign after the last few weeks, but oh so familiar. You’re not quite ready to have sex yet, but it’s a good reminder that you will one day soon. “It’s perfect.” You hold out your wrist and Andrei clasps the bracelet on.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, reminding you of the promise he made in the car.

“Whenever I’m ready,” you repeat, crawling onto his lap and letting him hold you. The thought of getting pregnant again doesn’t make your chest feel quite as tight anymore, doesn’t get the panic alarms ringing in your head. Andrei’s been so patient and gentle, making everything just a little bit easier to bear.

Every day just reminds you that as long as Andrei’s by your side, you can handle anything life throws at you.

He kisses the side of your head and holds you close, chasing the shadows of grief away.

#andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov x you

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syd-djarin · 6 months

Text

Leftovers (joel miller x f!reader)

a @katiexpunk & @sydneyinacoma oneshot collab

Summary: You’ve waited for what feels like forever to hear Joel say he’ll give you what you want, and what better day to be grateful you’re both now on the same page than Thanksgiving. Joel shows you just how thankful he is for you by giving you loads of his cum. Yep, that’s the fic.

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Word count: ~2.6K

Warnings: BREEDING KINK GALORE (if this isn’t your cup of tea, kindly move along), come play, rough sex, established relationship, thanksgiving, gentle sex, rough sex, creampie, kitchen sex, finger fucking, pet names, use of DADDY, use of MAMA, feral!joel, somnophilia, inappropriate use of kitchen island, spanking

Authors Note: what started as a brilliant idea from Katie, turned into a breeding extravaganza by these 2 slutty smutty sisters. Happy Thanksgiving ;)

~honored to get to collab w the amazing @katiexpunk again for some depraved fantasies. she is a true gift to this world & i'm proud to call her a friend. ily a milli bby. <33333

Joel finger fucking his cum back into you under the dinner table wasn’t quite what you had planned for the evening.

But it’s Thanksgiving, and you’re grateful.

___

In the warm glow of the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, you stand in the kitchen, in total Thanksgiving mode. This is the first year that you and Joel are hosting at your house and you couldn’t be happier.

The dining room table is set for twelve, a symphony of warmth and welcome. It’s decked out with gleaming plates, polished silverware, and a giant cornucopia centerpiece that Maria and Tommy had dropped by earlier in the morning.

In the kitchen, the turkey is roasting, the pies are resting, and the whole place smells amazing. Your apron's on, tied snuggling around your waist, and you're juggling pots, pans, and veggies like it’s nothing.

As you're meticulously arranging a platter of hors d'oeuvres, the floorboards creak as Joel approaches. You’re too deep into hostess mode to notice his presence.

Joel leans casually against the kitchen doorframe, a silhouette of quiet appreciation as he watches you move with purpose around the kitchen. His broad shoulders rest against the wood with his arms crossed, while his gaze, softened by admiration, follows you. The longer he watches you, the hungrier he gets.

He takes a step into the kitchen and your eyes lock with his. Your face erupts in a warm smile as you drink him in; fresh from the shower, his hair damp and combed neatly back. His scent invades your senses, over the plethora of smells circulating throughout the kitchen. It’s warm and earthy and brings a sense of comfort, of home, of Joel.

He takes a few short steps forward through the kitchen to be closer to you. “Wow,” he breathes, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I can’t believe all of this is in our kitchen. You’ve really outdone yourself, sweetheart.”

You move to close the gap between your bodies, and stand to face him. You raise your hand to his chest, feeling the warmth he exudes and the fabric of his white t-shirt and flannel under your palm. Him in a flannel always makes you weak in the knees, but today it’s an all-consuming feeling.

You glance up at him, a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction etched on your face. “Well, you know how I am when it comes to Thanksgiving, I just want everything to be perf–” . Before you can finish your sentence, Joel’s lips are crashing into yours. It’s soft, and you relish in the taste of it.

Joel’s kisses become more needy, gluttonous even. Try as he might, he can never get enough of you. He’s fusing your body to his, one hand clutching your hip and the other cradling the nape of your neck.

“You look so pretty like this, sweetheart. You’ve been workin’ so hard – why don’t you take a break, hmm?” he whispers in your ear, nipping at the soft flesh of your lobe. “Come take a break on my cock.”

“Joel, we can’t – everyone is going to be here in like 30 minutes, there’s still so much to do,” you try to reason, but your body isn’t listening, and neither is he.

“Don’t care, make ‘em wait. Need you. Now,” growling in your ear.

“Plus, if my calculations are correct, I know you’re ovulating, and I bet your body is craving my cum, isn’t it, baby?” he says, grabbing you by your hips and walking you back to the kitchen island until the cool marble hits your lower back and he has you pinned.

You and Joel have discussed kids, but briefly. You were ready now, but he wanted to wait.

“Let me breed your tight little pussy, baby. Wanna have my cum overflowing deep inside of you, wanna fuck it into you so deep it’ll stay there all night,” he says, reaching his hand up your dress.

“Joel, now? I know we’ve discussed having kids, but you said you wanted to ah,” – your ability to form words gets broken as he slips his thick finger through the side of your underwear and cards it through your slick folds. “You said you wanted to wait,” you conclude, your breath a little ragged.

“Waited long enough haven’t we? Wanna give you what you want, sweetheart,” ghosting a fingertip over your clit. “Plus I can’t wait to see your pretty little tits engorged and your belly full of my baby,” he says.

His words stir heat low in your belly, they’re what you’ve been waiting for him to say for so long. You’re practically dripping at the thought of him as a father, how good he’ll be to both of you.

His intent is to fuck you, to ravage you with no protection or pills, to intertwine your lives together forever. His cock all but tells you as much. You reach your hand out to cup the thick shape of him through his denim jeans, feeling his engorgement and so desperately wanting to have him inside of you.

“Please, daddy,” begging him to fill you up, somehow already knowing that ‘daddy’ will spur him on.

“Already calling me daddy now, huh baby?” Joel says, “I’ll show you daddy,” he adds, assisting you in helping him unbuckle his belt and jeans, growing impatient, wanting to be buried deep inside of you. As he drags his jeans and underwear down, you’re also impatient, and shimmy your underwear down to your knees and hike your dress over your hips, giving Joel unrestricted access to your needy cunt.

Joel grabs you by your waist and pulls you into him in a passionate kiss before flipping you around and pushing you down onto the kitchen island, chest first so that you’re eye-level with one of the Apple Pies you made earlier that morning. You’re grateful for the clothing covering you there as the countertop is cool, but your nipples still peak in response to the sensation.

Normally he’d take this slow, work you up to it, make you come once or twice before even attempting to fuck you, but right now he doesn’t care, nor does he have the time. Joel Miller has one goal, and one goal only right now. Joel, normally a bit of tease, skips straight to the part where he’s fucking you.

He lets out a moan at the sight of your ass bent over, pussy drooling, pressed up against his hips. Unable to resist, he swats your ass, enjoying the way your cheek bounces on impact.

Your wet and aching hole is just begging to be filled with him. He grabs his heavy cock by the base and spits down onto it before bringing his hand to stroke the length of it a few times, lubricated by his own saliva and the pre-cum that collects as he thumbs over his weeping tip.

He taps your ass with the mushroom head of his cock and grabs your buttcheek with his free hand, spreading you open to him. You’re growing impatient and whine out another plea, “please, daddy, please fuck me.” It’s pathetic and desperate but you don’t care.

Instead of a verbal reply, he responds by slamming his cock into you, causing you to jolt forward.

He only gives you a few moments to breathe before he’s driving into you at a dizzying pace. Should any of your guests arrive early, they’re in for a scene straight out of Skinemax.

“Fuck, baby. Who are you gonna let breed this tight little pussy, hmm?” Joel hisses through his thrusts.

“Only you, Daddy. Only you. P-please, fill my pussy up,” you purr.

“That’s right. Daddy’s gonna knock his girl’s tight little cunt up good, fill you full o’me. Gonna fuck you until you can’t see straight,” he says.

“Gonna make you a mama,” he adds for good measure, his breath a little ragged from the relentless pace he’s setting, hammering in and out of you, “gonna be such a pretty mama, baby.” The sound of his balls clapping against you is drowned out by your moans.

“Joel, shit – ah, I’m gonna come, feels so good,” you say, your cheek flat against the countertop. His cock is so big and perfect, you’re practically helpless. No more than a woman without a lifevest, drowning in the sea of your impending orgasm.

“That’s good, sweetheart – it will open your cervix up to me, my seed,” he responds, his jaw goes tense and he’s also not far off from his own release. He begins to set a rough, relentless tempo and begins to thrust into you deeper and harder, causing your walls to clench around him tighter.

Your legs begin to shake, and the buzz of arousal pulses through you. The tip of him hits the soft, spongy spot inside of you that drives you crazy, and with a few more drags of his veiny cock, you’re gone.

“Fuck, daddy! Yes,yes,yesss—” You come with a hoarse shout, body writhing underneath him.

His cock is covered in your sweet release, your milky juices covering his rod put Joel in a tantric, animalistic state as he nears his own orgasm. You’re still shaking under him, your legs begin to wobble and he holds both of your hips as he slams himself into you balls deep. You’re hanging onto his forearm behind you, needing solace from the intense onslaught.

The strength of his grip leaves bruises on your hips as he gives you one final, intentional thrust, and pauses with the tip of him right up against your cervix and your walls milk him for all he’s worth as he curses your name under his breath.

You can feel the subtle pulses of his cock as he stays stuffed inside of you to the hilt, holding his cum where he wants it to go the most. You both stay there, heaving and fucked out, as he lets the final drips of his seed paint every internal surface of your sweet pussy. He presses gentle kisses on your shoulder blade and behind your ear; a stark contrast from the previous roughness.

“I’m gonna pull out now, sweetheart. But don’t go to the bathroom, want you to keep my cum inside of you for as long as you can,” he says, still pressing you against the countertop. You let out a small hum of agreement, and he retreats from your hole and you whine at the loss. You just want to be full of him always. You wrap your hand under you to cup your mound to keep the warm cum from flooding out of you.

Just as Joel is pulling up his jeans, the familiar chime of the doorbell tells you that your first guests are here.

“I’ll get it, baby,” Joel says with a wink and cards his fingers through his now dry salt-and-pepper curls in an attempt to look like he didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life.

You stay there on the countertop as long as you can, before you hear voices in the foyer. You let out a sigh, not wanting to get up yet, wanting to stay in your filled-up bliss for a moment longer. You stand up to pull your underwear back in place and straighten out your dress.

++++

Of course Tommy and Maria would be the first ones to arrive. Not only were the Miller brothers both incredibly attractive, but they both had the same belief that if you aren’t at least five minutes early, you’re late.

“Tommy, Maria – hi, so lovely to see you, Happy Thanksgiving!” you say, your voice just a little too high. You stand in place behind the kitchen island and clamp your legs shut together tight, trying to pay no mind to the sticky, syrupy release that’s beginning to slowly drip out of you down your thighs.

Maria responds with a similar greeting, and then trails on “This island really ties the room together,” Maria surveys the kitchen, admiring the updates Joel’s been doing around the house.

“Thanks,” Joel replies, “We’ve been breaking it in. You know, with all the cooking and stuff. I think it’s the perfect addition to our home,” he adds, giving you a look that says and it won’t be the only perfect addition in about nine months. You feel your chest heat at Joel’s unsaid words.

“Can I get either of you a drink,” you ask, effectively making the transition back to hostess as you wait for the rest of your guests to arrive.

++++

Nighttime encroaching, your exhaustion takes hold of you. From preparing food all day, tidying up the house – with Joel's help, of course – and an explosive orgasm – also with Joel’s help – your body aches, overcome with the need to sleep for 15 hours or more.

Joel observes your depleted energy, feeling proud that some of it is his doing. He also knows that you’ll need lots of rest in the coming days, and he’s more than happy to take care of you.

So he decides to give you a boost of energy the best way he knows how.

You try to retain any form of composure as he reaches his hand under the table, and grabs your upper thigh. He pauses there for a moment, but eventually trails his hands up under your dress to the damp fabric of your underwear.

He pushes the soiled fabric to the side and sinks his thick finger into your wet hole, collecting the remnants of his release still gathered between the lips of your cunt. You try to hide your pleasure and near-gasps at the intense sensation behind the thin glass of your wine.

“Gotta make sure it sticks, sweetheart,” Joel rasps, only for you to hear.

You mask a moan with a laugh, as if Joel said something funny, instead of the lewd remark he made.

Joel finger fucking his cum back into you under the dinner table wasn’t quite what you had planned for the evening.

But it’s Thanksgiving, and you’re grateful.

++++

After a successful dinner, you and Joel say goodbye to the last guests to leave. You shut the door behind them, and lock the deadbolt. You turn your back to face the door, and Joel’s eyes are trained on yours. You can see it from the look in his eyes, the want and the hunger that simmers behind his dilated pupils.

Joel walks over to you and brings his fingers under your jaw, tilting you to look up at him. He plants a soft kiss on your lips, and you melt into him.

“You did a lot of work today, baby. C’mere, let’s get you into bed,” he offers, tapping your outer thigh and you get the hint. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he picks you up and carries you up the stairs to your bedroom.

Once in bed, Joel takes his time with you. He languidly eats you, savoring the taste of you like you’re better than the Apple Pie he had for dessert a mere hour ago. He would attest that you are, in fact, better than the dessert from earlier.

He’s affectionate, tender, peppering kisses everywhere his lips can reach between the soft pecks, he tells you how much he loves you, and how he can’t wait to see you grow your first baby. He fucks you, slow and intentionally, and gives you another load of his cum.

“I’m staying inside of you until you’re knocked up, sweetheart,” he says, his hard cock softening inside of you, plugging you up so his cum can’t escape. As he lays there playing with your hair, you hear his breath slow and he eventually lets out the soft twitches of early sleep.

You place your hand on your belly over his, where he keeps a tight grip on you, pulling you close to his chest, even in his sleep. Even if you’re not pregnant yet, you know you’re sure as hell gonna have a fun time trying.

“Night, baby,” you say to him, hoping this time next year he’s not the only one you’ll be calling that.

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iexisttospitegod69 · 3 months

Text

THE VOICES ARE TELLING MY SMUTTY THINGS ABOUT GOJO SATORU

Tw: SMUT

Summary: Satoru really likes your fake nails

pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

it was such a pretty sight.

the worlds strongest sorcerer laying so helplessly, laid across your bed like a thanksgiving meal. each of the limbs were tied to the posts of you bed frame with rope covered in sigils. not even Satoru himself could break them, no matter how hard he tried.

it had started so innocently. you had just come back from getting your nails done at high end spa around 1 o’clock after a well deserved splurge day for yourself. a massage, then food, then hair, then nails. you felt like a million bucks. it wasn’t your fault that Satoru had taken such interest in your now much longer nails.

he immediately grabbed your hand and admired how the color shimmered in the light, how it made your long fingers look even more elegant. you laughed at his fascination in them. he stood there for at least 10 minutes just admiring you hand while you talked about your day to him.

it had started with you just running your new nails across his scalp. he practically melted at how your gentle hands felt running through his soft white hair. it wasn’t your fault when his back muscles looked like they need attention too, as you scratched his neck and across his back.

It wasn’t your fault you took his shirt off to watch the goosebumps raise on his porcelain skin when your nails glided across it. you were just mesmerized with how much your boyfriend loved your nails. so it most definitely wasn’t your fault when Satoru thought a little too hard about how your hands looked and felt a twitch in his pants.

And that’s how he got here. It was entirely his fault. he was the one who begged to see your pretty new nails wrapped around his cock, not you. and it was his fault he didn’t see this happening.

the worlds strongest sorcerer was reduced to whining, whimpering mess underneath you. you glanced a look at the clock. 3:47. it had been almost two hours of your pretty nails teasing his pretty cock. of course Satoru had begged for you to touch him, but after being treated like queen all day, you didn’t feel like fully bending to his will.

in his normal personality, he had joked about what you were going to do to him as you tied his hands to the bed post. he thought it was just going to be a few rounds and done. oh how wrong he was.

you were on a mission right now. to see how far you could push him. and god was he so pretty like this. you sat on top of his thighs in your bra and underwear. Satoru was in nothing at all, his skin shone with sweat, and his cock and lower abdomen were covered in his own cum.

“what’s the matter ‘toru? i thought you liked my nails?” you teased him as you lightly brushed the tips of the fake nails across his dick. you watched as his abs flex in attempt to run away from your hand. his toned arms pulled as hard as he could at the ropes around his wrists to no avail. he tried to buck his hips upward but you weight stopped him.

“i-i-i do- ah… but ‘s s-so sensi-itve” he barely managed to get out between whimpers and whines as you nails continued their assaults on his very red and very sensitive dick.

you smiled with a mischievous look. you grabbed the base of his dick and pumped up and down as fast as you could. you watched as his fought with whatever remaining energy he had to get away from the unwanted stimulation. his jaw hung open and high pitched whines and pure pornographic moans fell from his lips. his breathing was in short bursts as his eyes rolled back into his skull and a few white beads of cum pulled in your hand. you let go of his cock and leaned forward to toy with his nipples.

“looks like there’s still more cum in you pretty boy. but it looks like we only have a few more times before there nothing left” you said in a happy tone. silent tears rolled down Satoru’s face from sheer overwhelmingness of it. you pulled and tugged and flicked his nipples and watched as his face turned more and more red. his cock was stuck in a state of constant hardness, but you learned that the redness of Satoru’s face meant he was ready to cum again.

you toyed with his nipples for a little longer, occasionally leaning down to run your tongue over the bud and grazing your teeth over it. eventually you focused your attention back on his cock. in his hazy, lust filled mind, Satoru noticed the switch and knew what was coming next.

“p-please i-i can’t cum anymore” he whined.

“but baby, there’s still more in here” you pouted as your nails lightly grazed across his balls. his back arched off the bed, but you pushed him back down.

one or your hands wrapped around the tip of the head while your thumb circled the top. your other hand went to his head as you grabbed his hair and forced him to look at what your hand was doing.

“you said they looked pretty, so you’re going to watch them” you said with a glint of sadism in your eyes.

his half lidded eyes struggled to stay open and kept looking at your hand. your thumb continued its assault as more moans and whimpers feel from him. occasionally your index and thumb moved around the tip and squeezed gently before continuing to brush your thumb over his head, leaving the rest of his very hard and very sensitive cock with nothing.

you could tell by the increasing highness of his moans that he was getting close again. you let his hair go and his head flopped against the pillow. your now free hand came down to trace the bulging vein on his dick. again, he tried to pull out of his restraints, but nothing budged and he was forced over the edge again. but this time, nothing came out. your only indication of his orgasm was his needy moans and his pretty blue eyes as they rolled into the back of his head.

you laughed a little as he panted heavily. he looked down with those puppy dog eyes, no longer able to form words.

you kissed up his stomach and left some very noticeable hickeys on his neck before untying his hands and legs. once free, he curled into your side and drifted into sleep.

authors note: AHH IM SO SORRY IF THIS IS BAD THE VOICES ARE TELLING MY THINGS THO.

anyways i hope all you little gojo hoes are feed tonight 😌

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader smut #jjk x reader

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non-stop-imagines · 4 months

Note

MEE RELEASE THE ARCHIVES BABE

Thank you for this. It kick started my creativity. I have soooo many WIPs that I'm excited to show you guys and my ideas need somewhere to land, so why not here.

I'm also gonna link this to my Masterlist so I can link the finished products to both and people are able to choose how they decide which fic to read.

(A bunch of barely coherent brainstorming under the cut 😚 And this apparently will be changing and updated whenever I think of it so keep checking back 💖)

Works in progress/ideas by driver:

Lewis Hamilton

- Something with the vibe of Angel of Mine by Monica because that song reminds me of him every time it comes on and I desperately want to try writing for Lewis again

Another song one. Ours by Taylor Swift. You both are very busy but very in love and will always make time for each other. No matter what.

Max Verstappen

Raincheck sneak peek here (Intense hatred between Max and the reader can only last so long.)

Big brother Max trying to help his sister out but is block by his father at EVERY TURN. (Tyla faceclaim and the request alone has me obsessed with her now. I absolutely love her.

Different things to add to Repeat That Au; Big sister, best friend and a lot of pregnancy talk (including something that links in the On Display Au courtesy of my ♥️ anon)

Lando Norris

Lando flirting with his PR manager who is a few years older.

Two words: Uncle. Lando.

Something to the song Making Whoopee by Frank Sinatra bc Lando seems like the type of guy to do anything for the girl he wants to fu k really badly. Wedding. Home. Baby. Whole nine yards. Big simp energy. The best type of energy

More from the Valentine Au because it's cute and I love it

Lance Stroll

Fake dating. We love when besties fake date and fall in love 😙

Oscar Piastri

Oscar loves his wife. Talks about her all the time. But no one knows they're married??? A little sneaky peek (that is barely put together):

"Your girlfriend is into astrology. I made the mistake of telling her my birthday." Lando spoke, twirling his flags, not seeing the extremely confused look Oscar was giving him.

"Girlfriend?" Lando looked up at his teammate and given him an equally confused face, believing his comment was quite clear.

"Uh, yeah? Yn?" Lando was so matter of fact, and yet had no idea how wrong he was.

"Yn's my wife. We're married."

"BUT YOU'RE BABIES!?"

"YOU'RE TWO YEARS OLDER THAN US!

More for Girl Almighty bc we have to see how the reader and Oscar do driving against each other

Charles Leclerc

Cocoa Butter Kisses-Charles is mesmerizing by your everything shower routine and how good you smell when you're done

Rockstar-undercover soft girl-reader; another smutty one; just gotta figure out the direction I was to take it

Wedding Night-Self explanatory;smut and aftercare (almost done with the smut, just gotta do the aftercare)

More stuff from My Biggest Fan Au bc who doesn't love Charles and Gianna 🥹

Something to I Wish by 1D with Pierre. You and Charles are literally the perfect couple. The entire way through. (See the ideas for Pierre for his part in the plot)

Logan Sargeant

Thanksgiving with the Fam and our very own Mr. America gets to experience a black Thanksgiving (yes I did get that suggestion right after Thanksgiving. Let's not talk about that 😔)

Something with the vibe of Wouldn't it be Nice by The Beach Boys bc apparently I think Logan is the purest little boy on the grid and just wants to live a happy life with his girlfriend

Carlos Sainz

More for Mírame Au (stay tuned bc there will come a time where I open request for suggestions for this 😚)

Esteban Ocon

Man's will be pining for Lewis' personal assistant and it will become a viral F1 moment.

Daniel Ricciardo

Reader can't stand sisters new boyfriend, and Daniel can't stand the fact that his girlfriends identical twin sister hates him, but feelings change, just not for the better

Handled: The Backstory (How reader and Daniel meet and fall for each other 😚) yes it will be smutty

Something based off the song "Would You Go with Me" because it is very Daniel and I don't know how to explain it

What do you think the opposite of On Display would be? (Hint: jealous Danny 😚)

More for On Display, but I might make her an OC to make another fic suggestion (look under Max ideas) a bit easier to write.

Fernando Alonso

Fernando and reader are literally each other's muse, he talk about her all the time and he inspires and entire album (and makes his music video debut)

Fernando gets some plants to impress reader; now he the plant dad to her plant mom and it's an inside jokes between family and friends

Fernandos favorite pass time is picking the readers hair color

Sebastian Vettel

Sebastian only wants one thing: For everyone to know how much he loves his ballerina girlfriend. Another little sneak peek (that, again, is just barely put together):

"Yes. You are in the presence...of the first...black Sugar Plum Fairy for the New York City Ballet." Your cheeks were sore from smiling, but nothing could dull your shine right now. Your friends that were hovering around you finally crowd around and give you tight loving squeezes, greeting Sebastian on your phone and bragging on your accomplishment.

"Sebastian! How does it feel to be dating the best principal dancer in the history of the New York City Ballet?" Your friend, Julia, hooks her arms over your shoulders and presses her mouth to your temple.

"I'm just glad I get to be her boyfriend. That's my title now. Sebastian Vettel, boyfriend Yn, New York City Ballett Principal Dancer and first black NYCB Sugar Plum Fairy.

Pierre Gasly

Introducing new OC!Eve (Chloe Bailey faceclaim);my way of introducing the readers sister into the Repeat That Au; we get to start off with a small backstory

I Wish-1D; Pierre's got it BAD. Go listen to the song. His POV is the song. It's heartbreaking and I love it so much. Probably one of the first fics that doesn't have a happy ending.

Maxiel

Trying get someone to buy you and Daniel a drink goes wrong

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ithebookhoarder · 6 months

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Spending Thanksgiving with Matt 🍁 (Matt Murdock x F!Reader)

A/N: So I'm gonna confess right now that I'm from the UK and not American, but my flatmate is and she has been cooking up a Thanksgiving feast all day - so this is how I'm spending the holiday... writing safely on the couch, and staying out of the kitchen 😅 Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate!

Warnings: Faint smutty references, references to alcohol, tooth-rotting fluff, I think that's it.

Masterlist

You and Matt have had a variety of Thanksgivings together, each one completely different, so you don’t really have any set traditions.

It’s more about spending the day with the people you care about, even if for just an hour, so you can share your gratitude at having them in your life. Or that’s what you tell Matt when he tries to argue that he doesn’t see what’s so important about the holiday.

“But sweetheart-”

“Don’t sweetheart me, Matthew Murdock. I just want five minutes with you to eat some stupid Pumpkin Pie and pretend to be normal. Ok? Please? Else I’ll just have to come out on patrol with you so I can annoy you into coming home.”

Needless to say, Matt gives in pretty quickly once you start begging. So, you both make the promise to honour that, even if it’s late or if the world seems intent of getting in the way. You will at least get to spend some time together, being grateful and taking a moment to celebrate what you’ve built together.

That has led to some pretty interesting holidays together over the past few years.

For instance, you’ve had one Thanksgiving where you’ve been sat in his office working on an important case, eating whatever take-out you’ve been able to find that was still open during the holiday.

It was like so many other days you’d spent together but you make the best of it, with Foggy and Karen insisting you have the Macey’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on in the background on a laptop.

You also take it in turns to go around and list the things you’re grateful for between chunks of research - and you all have a lot to be thankful for.

Another Thanksgiving was spent at Foggy’s parents’, after they’d insisted on hosting you all at their shop.

You spent the day eating more food than you could possibly imagine and enjoying the Nelson family chaos.

Matt may have pretended not to be excited at the prospect of sharing the day with the Nelson clan, but you could see the way he lit up the entire time you were there. Hell, you thought he was about the explode with happiness when the youngest Nelsons decided to start clambering over him and telling them about school and their plans for Christmas that year.

Matt has always had a soft spot for children and you can’t wait to start a family of your own to spend the holiday with - something Foggy’s parents seemed to be encouraging too, considering how they clucked and fussed over their boys.

In fact, they lectured both Foggy and Matt on how they didn’t seem to be eating enough and that they needed to settle down and get married sooner rather than later.

“She’s a keeper, Matthew,” Mrs Nelson had teased, not too subtly. “You boys should both put rings on these gorgeous women. What are you waiting for?”

Thankfully, Matt and Foggy were saved from answering by the sounds of cursing coming from the kitchen as something began to smell a lot like it was burning.

“Ah, a lecture from my loving mother. Now it’s a true Nelson holiday,” Foggy had groaned, reaching for the nearest un-opened beer. He had been quick to hand one to you, Karen, and Marci as well. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you’d laughed, a chorus ringing out from the group of amazing human beings you now called yours.

The following year you made sure to host them at your place. Yep, your place. As in both you and Matt had decided to move in together and now shared the apartment you called home.

Somehow, by a divine miracle, Matt had managed to have the day off, not being caught in the middle of some crazy life or death situation that would steal him away. Instead, he had somehow taken on the role of sous-chef and was surprisingly talented at it.

You blamed his blood-hound like senses for telling him what the perfect amount of certain ingredients was, or when something was ready in the oven.

“You could use more sage in that - and oh, I think the pie is done.”

“Damn, Matt. You’ve been holding out on me. All this time I’ve been living with a gourmet chef and we’ve been living off take-out?”

Matt laughs, pressing a kiss to your lips by way of apology. “I’d hardly call myself gourmet, but I’ll take the compliment.”

There is clearly no end to his talents.

Speaking of talents, Matt soon tries to use his other talents as you’re both pressed together in the confines of the kitchen, weaving in and out of each other, hands brushing… hips bumping…

It takes a lot of self-control on your part to remind him you had guests coming in a matter of minutes.

“What can I say, sweetheart? I’m just trying to show you have grateful I am for you. That’s the point of the holiday, right?” he purrs, his devious smile all too tempting.

“Well - as tempting as that is, and I swear if we hadn’t spent all morning preparing this dinner I would be dragging your ass over to bed - but you’re gonna have to save this show of gratitude for later, Matt.”

“Now who’s not being festive?”

You’re quick to swipe at him with the dish towel but he’s faster, saved by the knock at the door that announces your guests had finally arrived. He ducks past you, making for the door and hastily ushers everyone inside.

What follows is probably the best Thanksgiving you’ve ever had and the group photo Foggy insists on taking at the end of the night is soon framed and put pride-of-place on your bedside table.

You ate until your sides hurt. You drank until the bottles ran dry. You laughed until tears poured from your eyes.

By the time you and Matt actually do make it to bed that night you feel like you're floating.

"Thank you for today," he whispered, much to your surprise. You knew deep down he wasn't always the biggest fan of holidays, a lifetime of trauma and a never ending quest to protect his city had taken the sheen off of them long ago... or, it had, until he'd met you. Now, he could see the appeal of them. Of spending them celebrating with you.

You brought a light back into his life, as well as a reminder of what he was actually fighting for, and fighting to protect, every time he put on the mask.

"I love you... Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart."

"Happy Thanksgiving, Matt."

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #marvel #marvel x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x you #marvel daredevil #daredevil x reader #thesilentmage #charlie cox #matthew murdock #foggy nelson #karen page #daredevil netflix #thanksgiving

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rmd-writes · 9 months

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fic stats meme

thanks for the tag @stereopticons @hippolotamus @lemonlyman-dotcom 💖

rules: give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words.

most hits

titles are the worst, we refuse (a RWRB collaboration)

The paparazzi, a friend, their classmates, a true enemy. Alex is no stranger to telling people to fuck off, it’s a daily occurrence; but when it’s Henry who does it? Alex couldn’t be prouder. — 5 times Alex tells someone to fuck off and one time Henry does.

second most kudos

Everybody needs good neighbours (RWRB)

To nora(9.37pm): So a funny thing happened My hot neighbour brought me the mcflurry i ordered and we fucked From nora (9.38pm): WHAT DETAILS NOW Which neighbour? Wait, you only have one hot neighbour. Alex, did you fuck a guy?!?!?! ALEX Or Alex meets a hot new neighbour. Shenanigans ensue.

third most comments

Soon (Tarlos)

He can feel it, the way Carlos’ thighs tremble around his waist, the ripple of his abdominals contracting, the flex of his biceps as he curls his fingers around the bed head. my tarlos offering for smutsgiving2022, a challenge to share 100-word smutty drabbles on American Thanksgiving

NB: later updated to become 3,700 words of smut written in 100-word chapters

fourth most bookmarks

Hook(up), Line & Sinker (a RWRB collaboration)

When Alex decides to try online dating, things go very well with his first match. But what happens when he's sick and his room mate's best friend walks through the door?

A seasonally inappropriate Easter egg hunt for Everwitch

fifth most words

Make the Yuletide Gay (Tarlos)

"I'll be your boyfriend for Christmas."

Carlos stares at him like his brain is struggling to comprehend what TK is offering. It's a shared feeling, given that sometimes TK's brain engages before his filter does, and this is definitely one of those times. There’s no room for regrets, though, and he’s not really sure he regrets making the suggestion.

“TK,” Carlos starts softly. "What you're suggesting is— Well, it's a little crazy but also very generous. I can’t ask you to do that for me. It’s really too much to ask of anyone."

TK gets up off his bed and crouches in front of Carlos, his hands on Carlos’s knees. “Firstly, you're not asking, I’m offering. Secondly, consider it a social experiment, like the ones you learn about in class. Except this one directly involves you and me...as your fake boyfriend. You know, for science."

Fake boyfriends. For science.

We all know how this story goes.

fic with the least words

Husbands (Schitt's Creek)

“I can’t believe you sang Mariah to me! Mariah!” “I can’t believe you joked about happy endings!”

A short dialogue only look into what happened after David & Patrick's wedding ceremony.

This was a fun way to look at fic stats!

Tagging @welcometololaland @everwitch-magiks @cha-melodius @three-drink-amy @nontoxic-writes @rosedavid @strandnreyes @reyesstrand@carlos-in-glasses @orchidscript @goodways @liminalmemories21 @iboatedhere @kiwiana-writes @historicallysam

#fic stats meme #rmd writes #rmd writes: rwrb #rmd writes: ls #rmd writes: sc #rwrb fic #schitt's creek fic #tarlos fic

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adverbian · 8 months

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My fanfiction over on AO3. All Good Omens (TV continuity), Aziraphale/Crowley. (Updated 16 May 2024)

Bear You on the Breath of Dawn (T, 100 words)

They’ve had an argument — their first since they moved into their cottage together. They’re still not very good at talking. But this time, they both stay. (A drabble.)

Da Pacem (M, 341 words)

A sestina about stopping the Second Coming with your secret lover, using the key words “night, time, glass, light, tide, stars.”

Is This Desire? (E, 15.5k words, 2/2 chapters)

Written for the High Pollen Count Good Omens Sex Pollen Event. A smutty meditation on desire and consent.

Confiteor (M, 3k words, 1/1 chapter)

Aziraphale goes on a guilt trip. Crowley brings him back home. (Angst with a happy ending.)

Exsultet (E, 6k words, 3/3 chapters)

They’d won. But there were some things left to lose. (And there were some victories still to come.) (A gift fic for @crowleyslvt written as part of the Good Omens Song and Poetry Exchange)

In contenti e in allegria (E, 5k words, 2/2 chapters)

Completely shameless PWP, honeymoon in Paris edition. (A gift fic for @and-his-hands-were-24-crows in the Good Omens After Dark Valentine’s Exchange)

O You and Me at Last (E, 4k words, 1/1 chapters)

News of one of Aziraphale’s past admirers has Crowley feeling a little… possessive. (Written for the Good Omens After Dark Smut War)

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (E, 5k words, 3/3 chapters)

Crowley’s been giving Aziraphale space to adjust to being on his own, finally free of Heaven. Now, a gorgeous American philanthropist has started hanging around the bookshop. Has Crowley left things Too Late? (Spoiler alert: There’s a very happy resolution.) (Gift fic for IUsedToBeGifted177 in the Good Omens After Dark Christmas Exchange)

Small Things Like Reasons (M, 4k words, 7/7 chapters)

An exploration of six competing meta theories against the backdrop of the Rapture.

These, Thy Gifts (M, 100 words)

Crowley gives thanks for a feast. (A smutty Thanksgiving drabble.)

Revolver (T, 200 words)

Sometime in the late 1960s or early 1970s, Crowley tried to introduce Aziraphale to the Beatles. It went about like you’d expect. (A double drabble with hands thirst.)

Series: Auprès de ma blonde

(Each item in the series can be read independently.)

General vibes: Ineffable Honeymoon. Everything is terribly sweet and romantic. Lots of Feelings. There are literary and musical allusions.

(Individual works in the series under the cut! Dorothy Sayers fans will instantly clock the first two titles. Yes, there are Wimsey vibes.)

one more river (and that’s the river of jordan) (E, 5k words, 3/3 chapters)

They are alone now — they are free. They are both nervous, but eager, newlyweds.

Auprès de ma blonde, qu’il fait bon dormir (E, 2k words, 1/1 chapters)

The morning after “one more river.”

What We Think About When We Think About Each Other (E, 4k words, 6/6 chapters)

Five times they swapped fantasies, and one time they started learning to share.

Songs and Sonnets (E, 2k words, 1/1 chapters)

A little bit of exploration that gets surprisingly emotional.

That the One Ought To Have of the Other (T, 1k words, 1/1 chapters)

Marriage vows considered as a formal contract, and negotiated with feelings.

Set Me as a Seal Upon Your Heart (E, 12k words, 4/4 chapters)

The Ineffable Husbands make it official. And formal contracts between supernatural entities have a way of becoming particularly real.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #my writing #pinned post

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coloradocharmiegirl · 2 years

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In honor of Thanksgiving I thought I'd do a throwback to my first foray into the smutty world of Kum & Go, Charmie-style. Happy Thanksgiving everyone! 💚💙CCG

Kum & Go --originally posted to AO3 on November 27th, 2021

Note: Kum & Go is a real gas station/convenience store chain in my area, and every time I drive by one, I giggle like a schoolgirl. On my way to my in-laws for Thanksgiving 2021, this little thing popped in my head and screamed until I wrote it down.

Summary:

Timmy is home from college, and much to his irritation his mom sends him out to get milk mid-day on Thanksgiving. Unwilling to deal with the frenzy at the grocery store, Timmy seeks out the only convenience store that’s open. Meanwhile, as the owner of several convenience stores, Armie always has trouble making sure he has enough people willing to work the holiday. This year he was one short, so he’s put on a uniform and is staffing his least-trafficked store. Will a chance encounter give them each something to be thankful for?

Excerpt:

"Did you find everything you need?” Armie asked.

Timmy took a deep breath as he looked down and nodded. He felt a blush rise up on his cheeks--he was doing his best to limit the visual stimulation, but the voice was enough. He felt himself getting hard again.

“Everything?” asked Armie, his voice dropping suggestively. He dragged his finger down the inside of Timmy’s wrist as he took his money. “I mean, the name of the store is Kum & Go, and you’re going, but you haven’t cum yet.”

Timmy gasped and his head snapped up, not believing what he’d heard. But faced with the sight of the man’s hungry eyes, pupils blown wide with desire, there was no mistake--and Timmy was ecstatic. He let his mouth fall open and ran his tongue over his top teeth before sucking his bottom lip in and biting it. He stared at the man across the counter as his eyes fell to Timmy’s lips.

“Well,” Timmy said, “now that you mention it, I didn’t see exactly where that was on the shelf.” After a fraction of a second, he added, “I’m Timmy by the way.”

#charmie fanfic #charmie #charmie ff #charmie fic #thanksgiving smut #who knew buying milk could be so satisfying

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cevansbaby-dove · 6 months

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Happy Thanksgiving!! I won't be on here tomorrow As much i will be on when my family is gone and write my part 5 of my pr fic and my smutty one shot too Love ya!

#thanksgiving 2023

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 6 months

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Lovers & Friends (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Keigo Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which you and Keigo have begun to realize the strange new feelings you both have for each other after one drunken night at a close friend’s wedding that ends with you in his bed, but because of your longtime friendship and committed relationships with other people, you’re more than happy to forget that night even happened and keep your mutual feelings in the dark…for now, at least.

Story Warnings: Smutty smut; 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY); Cheating/Infidelity; Mating; Light Degradation; Spanking; Exhibitionism; Multiple Positions; Creampie; Unprotected PIV Sex; Facial; Scent Play; Marking; Spitting; Deepthroating; Cunnilingus; Begging; Edgeplay; Power Play; Wing-Stroking; Daddy Kink; Some Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Mild Violence

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving!! Second to last chapter here! Go touch some fucking grass pls. -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Bonus Chapter.

Read on AO3 here!

***********

Chapter Nineteen: Let's Ruin the Friendship.

Keigo’s party ends with a bang.

Literally. He had fireworks explode outside the club venue that you and he watched from the balcony, his arms and wings wrapped tight around you.

After a few more hours of drinking and dancing, you drag your tired ass outside to say goodbye to your friends. Nemuri drags Yu to their chauffeur after one too many margaritas while you and Keigo give a personal goodbye to Rumi and Dabi. “Thanks for coming,” Keigo says, squeezing Rumi to him. “The party was fun while it lasted.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Rumi agrees, hugging the winged hero back. “Now it’s time for the afterparty, I’m sure.” She turns to you with a knowing smirk and a wink, making you feel hot despite the warm night. Though Keigo and you agreed to play some Mario Kart at his place after the party, you are technically “a thing” now and the idea of going back to his home tonight makes you nervous.

You want to tell yourself that you’re being stupid. You’ve gone back to Keigo’s place after bar hops and club romps way too many nights to count on one hand! You’ve crashed on his couch in your mini dresses and heels and have awakened to breakfast and an Aspirin to take with OJ for your hangover. You’ve spent nights up late playing video games and watching movies with him, joking around about everything and anything. ‘So why is now so different?’ you want to ask yourself.

But you already know the answer: because you’re dating now. Because you professed your love for him. Because now there is no going back to those nights where you could spend hours at his place and not think twice about it because you were his friend. You knew that the moment after you slept with him that night at the hotel that things would never be the same. But looking at him tonight, you don’t want them to be.

“I’m gonna go say bye to Dabi,” you say to Keigo and Rumi as they talk among each other. Keigo and him already had a heart-to-heart before the party ended, saying their goodbyes early. Keigo nods and sends you off with a smile, but as you turn around to walk away, you catch snippets of their conversation.

“Don’t hurt her, Keigo,” Rumi sternly says. “I’m serious.” You picture her deep in Keigo’s grill, her eyes firm and her hand possibly gripping his balls, threatening to bust them if he tries anything. “I know you are,” he replies. “And believe me when I say that you have nothing to worry about. I lost her once, Rumi; I’m not going to lose her again.” At the sound of the passion in his voice, a smile stretches across your face and your heart practically bursts.

Dabi is leaning against a nearby tree, smoking a cigarette, when you walk up to him. His eyes are slightly red from the weed he’s been smoking at the party and the scent of vodka sits on his tongue when he speaks. To put it bluntly, he is lit all the way up. “Hey, I’m ‘bout to bounce,” he tells you. “My ride is down the street.” He juts a chin down the street at the van that holds a prison guard that will take him back to his “home”. The idea of it upsets you.

You waste no time with the last minutes you have with him and wrap your arms around him, squeezing his lean body to yours. “It was great seeing you again, Dabi,” you sigh into his chest. “I’ll miss you.” He snorts, cupping the back of your head with his hand. “Jesus, you act like I’m going away and never coming back,” he chuckles. “It’s just prison. You’ll see me the next time you visit or I get a free day.”

Though he is right, the idea of him going back to his cell hurts you more than you can express. He would probably just call you a crybaby for it. When you pull away, he is smirking at you, his cig dangling from his lips. “So you leavin’ with him?” he asks, nodding at Keigo tugging on one of Rumi’s ears and jumping back to avoid getting hit.

“Yes,” you reply, your stomach fluttering as you do. You turn to Dabi, noticing the seriousness in his ice-blue eyes. “And he’s who you want?” he pushes. You don’t hesitate to tell him the truth: “He’s always been who I want,” you confess. “I just needed to acknowledge it.” As if hearing you, Keigo turns and waves at Dabi, understanding that his time is up. Dabi nods at him, a wordless conversation transpiring between them.

Dabi’s eyes trail back to yours, an almost solemn look on his face. “Take care of him, doll,” he quietly implores. “But you don’t need me to tell you that ‘cause you will, right?” Before you can answer, he takes his cigarette out of his mouth, drops it, and crushes it under his foot into the pavement before walking off. You didn’t get to answer him, but you have a gut feeling that you didn’t have to. He already knows your answer.

You then turn around and walk back to Keigo, finding Rumi gone. It is just you two standing on the empty street now in front of the club venue. Keigo smiles at you, the street lights illuminating his handsome face and golden eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks. He walks to you and puts an arm around your waist, holding you close. You feel like you fit there. Like you belong there.

“Yeah, baby,” you reply, trying out the pet name. “I’m ready. Let’s go play some Mario Kart.” A small, gleeful smile crosses Keigo’s lips, giving you the impression that he likes the way the name sounds. He then walks you over to his car, his hand still on your waist while his other hand clicks a button on his ride to unlock it. He opens the door for you first and allows you to get inside before he does the same and takes off to his penthouse.

When you finally arrive and come up the elevator to his penthouse, you feel butterflies rapidly fluttering around in your stomach. The car ride was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the soft R&B playing from Keigo’s playlist. He didn’t say anything, but he kept his hand on yours while he steered the car with the other. He also stole glances at you every so often that you could feel, but you never pointed it out. You were too nervous to do so.

When the elevator doors open on his clean, lemon-scented penthouse, the butterflies only get worse. It was easier to act lovey-dovey at the club with the alcohol and guests around as buffers, but now that all of that has faded away and it’s only you and him, your anxiety has reached its peak. You step out of the elevator before Keigo does and look around the luxurious yet homely penthouse. “It’s been so long since I’ve been here,” you announce.

Keigo walks out of the elevator behind you, skipping beside you like a gleeful deer. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Y’know, it feels better that you’re here. I guess these walls missed you too.” He gives you a warm smile that relaxes you somewhat and eases the fury of the damn butterflies in your lower tummy. “Well, make yourself at home while I plug up the game,” he says, tossing his jacket aside as he walks to the TV. "Just so you know, I’ve had time to brush up on my skills so I’m gonna kick that ass in Mario Kart.”

He turns and gives you a cocky, devious smirk before busying himself by plugging up his PS4. As he bends down to pick it up off of the floor and plug it in, his shirt rises up somewhat and you catch a sliver of skin on his toned stomach exposed to you. A toned stomach you find yourself wanting to kiss, touch, and lick all over. You want to run your fingers over his abs while you suck on his pink, hard nipples, relishing his moans and hushed words of praise. You want your skin on his, your bodies pressed against each other.

In a single instant, all of the anxiety you felt coming here is gone. You now realize that things may be different, but Keigo hasn’t changed. He is the same man who loves Mario Kart and winning at it. He is the same man you’ve known for years––kind, intelligent, goofy, confident, and passionate about his work and his friends. He is still your Hawks.

“We’ll see,” you huff, unbuckling your heels from your feet. You toss them to the side, letting them clatter to the floor. “Afterwards.” Keigo twists around toward you, raising an eyebrow. “Afterwards?” he parrots. “Whatchu mean?”

You stand in the middle of the room before him, need for him coursing through you. The alcohol you consumed, along with the burning lust you have for him, have taken control over you. “I mean I want you,” you boldly say. “Right here, right now.”

Keigo blinks at you, obviously shocked by your change in demeanor. You slowly saunter up to him, putting a sway in your hips as you do. Once you’re near him, you press your hands to his chest and run them slowly up and down his torso, feeling the ripple of muscles beneath his shirt. The feeling of his toned body under your palms makes your pussy tingle.

He continues to stand there like a statue, rigid and awkward. He doesn’t touch you even though you desperately want him to. “But…I thought you wanted to take this slow,” he softly says, his eyebrows scrunching cutely in confusion.

“And we will!” you reply. “We’ll take things as slow as we both need to, but now that we’re dating, there is nothing holding me back from showing you how I feel.” You slide your hands up to his shoulders, squeezing them ever so gently. “If that’s what you want,” you softly add.

He stares at you like you just asked him if he can lay an egg out of his ass. “What I want?” he repeats, quirking a brow at you. “Shit, baby, I’ve been dreaming about you in my bed for weeks now. I was just pumpin’ the brakes for you.” Joy and relief overflow you and you press your face into his chest, inhaling his cologne and natural scent. Even the smell of him makes your pussy wet.

“Thank you,” you murmur against his chin, “but I don’t need you to.” You then pull away from him and stare into his eyes, never faltering. He and you are all that matter tonight. Your phones and the outside world be damned. He is all you want. You trail your hands down his chest again, pausing to feel his heart beat against your palms.

“Now fuck me,” you whisper.

Baby, Keigo don’t have to be told twice. All of that confusion and uncertainty melts off of his face, replaced with a lustful look that thrills you. His hand grabs the back of your neck and pulls you toward him, his lips crashing against yours. As soon as his soft, pink lips are moving against yours and his facial stubble scratches against your face, you moan. You wrap your arms around him and bring him as close as you can. All of your need for him comes spilling out, threatening to envelop you both. As Keigo’s hands run over your hips and ass, gripping the globes of fat, his tongue finds yours and swirls, dances, and twirls with it, causing saliva to stick to your lips when you pull away.

“Jump,” he demands, and you do, wrapping your legs around his waist. He catches you and grips you to him. As he lays another hot, passionate kiss on you, he begins to walk towards his soft-looking, big-ass couch, effortless and swift as if you weigh absolutely nothing. It’s so sexy how strong he is. You can feel his arms flexing against you, his hands still gripping your behind. He then sits you down on the couch and kneels down before you, staring up at you as if you’re the loveliest thing in the world to him.

His hands begin to glide up under your dress, his fingers trailing along your thighs that twitch with every move he makes. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he asks, his voice husky and breathless. “You have the nerve to dress like this with that asshole, knowin’ damn fuckin’ well I’m sprung over you?” He begins to kiss up your legs as he peels back the layers of your dress, revealing your legs to him.

“Keigo,” you whisper, desperate for him to touch you. Your pussy is aching for his lips; his fingers; his everything. But he doesn't catch your drift or just doesn’t listen to you as he pulls away, his gaze hooded. “I think you need to learn a lesson for that,” he says. “Don’t you, baby?” You blink at him, confused, until his eyes drill into you with an intense, stern stare that would make any woman pop babies. “Turn around and arch your back for me,” he demands. “I want that ass in the air.”

You are helpless to disobey him, especially when you can’t speak and your pussy is this wet. You love it when he takes charge like this. Wordlessly, you slowly turn over and get onto your knees while your hands grip the back of the couch, maneuvering so you don’t rip your dress. A soft, weak moan leaves your lips as Keigo lifts your skirts to reveal your plump ass in your matching red panties. He doesn’t even warn you first when his hand comes down hard onto your ass.

Smack! You gasp, your body tensing from the sting of his hand coming down hard on your asscheek. “Damn you for this ass,” Keigo growls. “Damn you for bein’ so fuckin’ hot. Do you know what you do to me, girl?” Smack! “Huh?” Smack! “Answer me!” he demands.

“I’m sorry!” you weakly apologize. “I’m sorry! I��ll be good, Daddy, I promise!” You can sense Keigo processing what you just said being that he doesn’t spank your ass again too quickly. This is the first time you’ve ever called him such a word. You have now taken you both deep into a territory that you both are more than happy to explore; one that is both loving, kinky, and not at all friendly.

‘I don’t wanna be friends,’ you think. ‘I wanna be your fucking woman.’ Keigo must have the same idea because his hand is coming down onto your asscheeks again, alternating between each. Smack! “Your apologies don’t mean shit,” he growls. “You better grip that couch and take the punishment you deserve.”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

With every hit, your asscheeks begin to sting, tears prick your eyes, and whines and whimpers of protest leave your lips. Yet your pussy has never been wetter. She throbs and twitches with need, gushing all in your panties. This is what you’ve wanted for so long; what you’ve been craving: to be thrilled; fulfilled; used. To explore all that can be explored in sex. And Keigo is just the man to show you and give you everything you’ve dreamed of.

Smack! “You know, I fuckin’ lied,” he says, his voice strained like he’s struggling to hold onto the last of his self control. You look back at him, finding him staring dead at you and sporting a very obvious hard-on in his dress slacks that has begun to press against the fabric. “Huh?” You exhale, confused.

“Or I didn't tell you before,” he corrects himself. "About the way the bed looked that morning at the hotel.” You blink at him, not sure what he means because of how dazed you are from the foreplay and spanking. But then you realize he means the state of the hotel bed the morning you woke up next to hm. You remember the pillows and blankets surrounding you in a way that resembled a nest. “Yeah,” you reply, gently encouraging him to continue.

“I made it look like that,” he confesses, his eyes so vulnerable and open for you. “I was nesting you.” He swallows, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. “I don’t wanna scare you, but I need you to know that my instincts, whatever the fuck they are, made me do that…almost as if you’re…” He pauses, appearing nervous. “My mate,” he finally finishes.

The new information slowly processes in your mind, making you feel a wide range of emotions: confused; happy; scared. Scared of what this could mean and the unknown that follows. You’re expert in the ideas of “mates”, but you are familiar with the concept. Animals take mates and some do it for life, as birds do. As hawks do. And Keigo is admitting that he sees you as such. It is quite terrifying as anything could happen to tear that apart and ruin what you have…

But you can’t see yourself being anyone’s but his. Though your ass stings, you turn around and sit on your ass, obscenely opening your thighs for Keigo. He stares at you, taken aback, his eyes wide and mouth parted as your fingers glide down your wet panties. “I love you,” you whisper, tears stinging your eyes. “Please…please taste me. Take me all of me.” In that single moment, Keigo gives you the same dark, lustful look he did the night at the hotel. His eyes grow sharp and his wings become ruffled as if someone has riled him up…that someone being you.

An excited shiver runs through you as he quickly kneels before you and hikes your legs up over his shoulders. You shriek as he pulls your ankles towards him, sliding you down the edge of the couch to him. He then loops his fingers through the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your quivering thighs, taking the soaked article of clothing and pressing them to his nose. He breathes in the scent of you, his eyes fluttering closed. You watch him, in awe at his freakiness and him being comfortable enough to expose himself as a freak in front of you. You’re going to have so much fun with him.

He flicks the panties somewhere across the room before he opens your thighs and stares at your soaked cunt like it is dessert dripping in honey. “Itadakimasu,” he whispers before pushing his face right into your sobbing, wet, dripping pussy under your dress. As soon as his tongue slides along your slit and his lips press against your clit, your eyes roll back into your head and your hands find his hair. You grip the golden locks on his head, unconsciously pushing his face farther into you. he chuckles into your pussy, causing vibrations to tickle your clit and draw moans out of you.

“Fuck, Kei,” you groan, your toes curling near his ears. He eats your pussy like it’s the last time he will do so, sucking on your rosebud and fucking you with his tongue after full-on spitting on your pussy. You swear your soul nearly leaves your body when he does this, your pussy dripping in his saliva before he slurps it back up. His tongue once again enters the gushing walls of your pussy as his nose brushes against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your core, fingers, and toes.

He alternates between fast and slow, hard and soft, paying attention to your body as he stares at you from between your thighs. As he does, he unbuckles and unbutton his pants with one hand before digging a hand in his briefs and stroking himself at the sight of you. You can tell from the way his arm moves up and down in time with his tongue strokes. The idea of him becoming so worked up from eating you out that he has to fuck his fist to the sight of you turns you on even more, pushing you further toward the edge of your first orgasm of the night.

“‘M gonna cum!” you whimper, your legs clenching around Keigo’s head. “Please, Kei, baby, make me cum! Make your mate cum!” And he does so. Something in him snaps then because his jaw seems to have a mind of its own at that point. His tongue begins lashing along the gummy walls of your pussy that tighten and constrict around the muscle while his nose bumps rubs against your clit again and again. He even moans into your pussy as he eats it, making the wettest, sloppiest sounds you’ve ever heard with just his mouth.

Soon, you’re tumbling over the edge and cumming all over his face. You grip his hair for dear life as you gush all over his lips, chin, and tongue. He moans appreciatively for what you give him, greedily slurping down all of your cream the more it pours out of you. By the time your orgasm fades, you’re a panting, heated mess…but not at all tired. You stare down at your boyfriend with want throbbing inside of you.

Keigo looks up at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark and practically slits. You know he is feeling the same carnal need and desire you are, so you don’t waste time demanding what you want. “Bedroom,” you exhale. “Now.” Before you can take another breath, Keigo has you wrapped up in his arms and is racing up the stairs. You giggle as he bounds up the steps, you bouncing in his arms as he does.

When he’s finally in your bedroom, he kicks the door shut with the back of his foot and places you on the bed. You sit up on your knees, your eyes focusing on his lower half where his cock pushes insistently against his pants. You find your greedy hands grabbing for his belt immediately to unbuckle it, but Keigo stops you. You look up at him, confused, and find that his eyes have softened to their normal state. “You called yourself my mate,” he points. “So…you’re okay with this?”

With a smile, you move your hands behind your back to unzip your dress. It falls off of your body, revealing you in nothing but your strapless bra. You unhook that as well, revealing your hardened, brown nipples to him. Instantly, his wings ruffle and his eyes sharpen into slits once again at the sight of you. “What do you think?” you purr. You reach toward him then and grab a handful of his cock, emitting a delicious groan from him.

“You want me to show you, Daddy?” you teasingly ask. You begin to slowly stroke him through his pants, prompting him to give in to your spell. Keigo couldn’t say no even if he wanted to. As you begin to work his work off, he strips himself of his jacket and top, revealing his defined muscles and hard, pink nipples to you. The way he stares down at you, so lustful and hooded, makes you work faster to get his belt unbuckled and his pants unbuttoned. Soon, his pants are dropping to his ankles, leaving him in just his boxers.

“Whip it out for me,” he demands and you’re quick to do so. You carefully put your hand in his briefs and wrap your hand around his hard, warm, throbbing cock that jolts at the feeling of your soft hand. You slowly pull him out, letting him bob in the air in front of your eyes. He wraps his long, thick, ringed fingers around his cock and proceeds to gently smack it against your pouty lips. You give a sexy, slutty little giggle as he does, sticking out your tongue to let him smack his dick against it.

“Didn’t know you were such a woman for facial abuse,” he chuckles. He then pushes his cock head against your lips, grinding against them slightly. “Open up, mama,” he coaxes. You obediently open your mouth for him, allowing him to slide inside of the warm, wet, waiting walls of your mouth and against your soft, wet tongue. He begins to thrust his hips into your mouth, filling your nose with his scent and your mouth with his taste. You place your hands on his hips, bringing him closer, and opening your throat as if you’re about to yawn.

You then proceed to move your head back and forth along his cock, giving him all the throat he could possibly want. Your eyes tick up to watch your boyfriend toss his head back and close his eyes at the feeling of your tight throat squeezing around him. “Fuck,” he moans, “you’re so good at that.” His hand finds your head and strokes your hair, gently pushing you farther onto his dick. You gladly take it, still bopping your head and sliding his cock in and out of your throat.

Keigo is a moaning, dirty-talking mess as you give him serious, serious neck. He won’t shut the fuck up. Every sound out of his mouth is either an orgasmic moan, whine, grunt, or swear. “Shit, baby,” he hisses, watching you swallow his dick like it’s your profession. “You’re so good at suckin’ dick. I really don’t deserve this, you know.”

‘But you do,’ you think. ‘You deserve this and more.’ You then pop your mouth off of his dick, your lips coated in spit. You stare up at him into his hooded eyes, wanting more of him. Needing more of him. “Fuck my face,” you gasp. “You can pull my hair too. I trust you, Kei.” Keigo’s eyebrows raise slightly, surprised at your request, but he doesn’t protest or deny you. He steps toward you, wrapping his hand around the thick base of his cock again. “Take my thigh twice if you need to breathe,” he orders and you nod, giving him a reassuring smile. You open your mouth for him again and he slides his dick all the way to the back of your throat. He then begins to rut his hips into your mouth, making you choke and gag along his cock.

“Fuck!” Keigo growls, gripping your hair as he fucks your mouth. You take every inch, doing your best to breathe through your nostrils and avoid ruining his pleasure just because your jaw is aching and he is touching the back of your throat. You want to give this to him. You want to give him all of you. So when he releases your hair after a few minutes of fucking your throat, you wrap your hand around him and begin to stroke him as you slide your throat along his dick, gobbling up all of him. You feel Keigo’s hips stutter against your face and see his muscles tense. You know he’s close, so you go faster, stroking in time with your sucking and even fondling his balls with your free hand.

Keigo is losing it. He is practically screaming to the heavens, just about to give you a serious nut. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum!” he whines. “Stop, stop, stop!”

You do so immediately, staring up at him in confusion and shock. Why doesn’t he want to fill up your throat? You get your answer when his hand wraps around your throat and his lips slam against yours. His tongue forcefully enters your mouth, swirling with yours no matter the fact that you taste like his cock. When he pulls away, he is completely feral, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “I’m not cummin’ down your throat,” he growls. “I want this to count. Get on your back.”

With your stomach flipping excitedly, you eagerly crawl up to the headboard and get on your back, getting comfortable among the pillows. Keigo crawls between your legs immediately and wraps a hand around his cock before gently gliding it against your slit. You moan softly at the feeling, your toes curling and back arching. "You’re even wetter than before,” he cackles. “Naughty girl. You want this dick so badly, don’t you?” He uses his cock head to nudge at your clit, grinning at your reaction. “Tell Daddy how much you want it.”

When he begins to smack his dick against your pussy, you nearly cum right there. “Please!” you beg, gripping the comforter beneath you. “Please, fuck me, Kei!” You lift your hips and begin grinding against his cock, causing his head to nearly nudge your pussy lips apart. “I need you,” you whisper, staring into his eyes. “Need you to fuck this pussy right and fill me up.”

When Keigo grips your hips and yanks you towards him, you know he isn’t the Keigo you know anymore. His pupils turn into slits while his red irises glow like full moons at you. His wings become ruffled as if someone just ran their hands through them and seem to grow bigger. An excited yet fearful shiver runs through you as you watch your boyfriend transform right before your very eyes. Before you can take a breath, he sheaths his cock inside of you, not stopping until his balls reach your asscrack.

You both moan at the contact, sparks of pleasure running through your bodies. Keigo doesn’t hesitate for one moment. Immediately, he presses his palms into the mattress on either side of your head and begins rocking his hips into yours, plunging his cock in and out of you slowly yet roughly. The pleasure is immense and intense, having you seeing stars and turning your pussy into mush. He’s going far too slow though. You need more. “Faster,” you whine, gripping his shoulders. “I need it faster!”

Keigo pauses for a moment to stare at you, surprise registering across his face. Then, in an instant, it’s gone, replaced with a fierceness that makes your pussy gush. “Faster?” he parrots. “You want it like this?”

He starts to do as you order, snapping his hips harder and faster into you, plunging his cock in and out of your pussy like a jackhammer. You grip him for dear life, your eyes wide and mouth agape as gasps and howls of pleasure leave your lips.

Keigo leans up slightly to toss your legs over his shoulders, pushing his cock deeper inside of you. “Is this good, huh?” he grunts as he rails you like there is no tomorrow. “Is this how my baby likes it be fucked? You like gettin’ that pussy put into the mattress like this?” You can hardly speak, but you manage to yell out as much of an answer as you can: “Shit!” you gasp. “God, yes, yes, yes!”

The more he fucks you, the more your pussy starts to tighten until you can feel your second orgasm starting to rise to the surface. Your eyebrows draw together as if you’re about to cry as you stare into Keigo’s eyes. “I’mma cum,” you whimper brokenly. “I’m gonna cum again, Keigo!”

He leans in close to your ear, pressing his body close to yours and rolling his hips down and around, drawing your orgasm out of you. “You gonna cum?” he growls under his breath. He goes faster, harder, pounding your cunt into the bed. “You gonna fucking cum on this dick?” he asks, raising his voice. “Do it, baby. All over me. Fucking give it to me, you little slut!”

And you do. You have no choice but to. Keigo fucks you until your back arches and your body shivers against the bed as your orgasm peaks. It tears a series of moans, whimpers, and shouts of his name out of you as you cum all over his cock. Your orgasm is so big that it spurts all around Keigo’s cock and his stomach, coating his skin in your juices.

Keigo finally slows down and stares down at you in awe, laughing as he does. “Damn, baby, you squirted!” he cackles. “I’ve been waiting to do that to you.”

You weakly moan, your head lulling against the mattress. Though your pussy feels sensitive to the touch, you can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you. Knowing that, you know you can go for another round. Keigo leans down to kiss your forehead, brushing your brow with his finger. “Tired?” he murmurs.

You slowly shake your head, staring up at him through slits of your eyes. “No,” you weakly reply. “You didn’t cum yet.”

You weakly squeeze your pussy around him and he groans, his cock twitching inside of you. Knowing what you’re asking for, he goes to take you by the hips again, but you stop him. “No,” you protest. “Out there. Fuck me out there, Keigo.” You nod at the balcony where the moonlight shines its silvery light into the bedroom like a spotlight. “I want the whole world to see that I’m yours and you’re mine.”

And when you look into his eyes, you know that he can’t resist you. Instantly, he swoops you up into his arms and flaps those big wings as he carries you to the balcony, floating as he does. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud in heaven, especially when you venture outside into the summer air. Especially when the stars twinkle above you and Keigo, witnesses to your lovemaking. He lowers you onto your feet and bends you over, his fingers caressing your spine. The naughty let intimate act draws a weak moan out of you as your pussy jumps excitedly at the thought of being fucked out in public.

After a few quick pumps of his cock as he stares at your juicy ass bent over the railing, Keigo once again sinks inside of you and hits home when he glides against your G-spot. You release a loud moan that you quickly stifle, afraid of attracting attention. But Keigo isn’t having that. He grips your hips and proceeds to plunge his thick cock in and out of you at a quick, rough pace that makes your tits jiggle and your head spin.

“Don’t run from me now, baby girl,” he evilly laughs. “You wanted this so bad, right? Wanted everyone to see how much of a goddamn slut you are for this cock.” You breathlessly moan and gasp as he fucks you against the railing, your breasts pushing into the cool metal and your knees buckling. “That ain’t loud enough,” he tuts. "Come on now, don’t hide yourself.”

You then feel a soft, intense tickle against your clit, causing you to nearly sob in pleasure. Tip of Keigo’s feather swirls and rubs your clit in small circles, similar to his other two feathers that begin to tweak at your nipples. “How’s this, huh?” he huffs. “This enough for that fuckin’ body of yours?”

You can’t even think, let alone speak. Your mind is a blank slate of nothing but pleasure. Nothing but pure, blinding ecstasy at the feeling of being overstimulated. You grip the railing for dear life as screams and moans escape your lips into the wind. “F-Fuck, Keigo!” you cry out into the night. “You’re s-so good! It feels so good!”

Again, you feel your third orgasm of the night rising and your pussy tightens around his cock, drawing out his own orgasm. “I think I’m gonna cum again,” you tearfully whisper.

Keigo moans from behind you, gripping your ass until it nearly hurts. “Me too,” he groans into your ear. “Cum with me, baby. Cum all over this cock.” He goes faster, harder, his balls slapping against your clit as his feather swirls quickly against the little bud.

His own moans and sounds of pleasure ring out into the night, mingling with yours as your climaxes peak. “God, I love you,” he whines. “Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou!”

He cums a second before you do, hot spurts of cum splashing against your pussy walls and deep inside of you. The sound of him triggers your own orgasm and you lose your mind along with him. “Fuck, Kei!” you shriek as you cream all over him. You feel like you’re soaring as your orgasm overtakes you, making you grip the railing until your knuckles turn white and the aftershocks are all that are left.

Once the pleasure fades and all you’re left with is the sweet ache of good sex, you and Keigo crumble to the balcony floor and snuggle against one another. You press your ear against his beating heart, smiling at the way he breathes so heavily after doing such a thing with you. “I love you too,” you whisper. “I’m so glad we’re not friends anymore.”

A soft chuckle leaves his lips as his wings wrap around you, covering you and hiding your naked body from the outside world. For a while, there is only silence as you two wallow in the afterglow of your sex. But that is quickly ruined when you feel Keigo’s cock harden against your thigh. He looks down at you with a smirk. “Round two?” he asks.

He doesn’t even have to ask.

#friends to lovers #keigo takami x black reader #hawks x black reader #feral hawks is the only hawks #black fanfic writer #smutty smut #bnha smut #my fic shit #black coded reader #keigo takami #my works #hawks smut

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