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awritesthings1 · 6 months

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Gone with the Leaves

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife Reader

Summary: Despite your happy marriage to Tommy, you feel an undeniable jealousy towards Lizzie. Perhaps a day in the forest will do you some good.

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A/N: I'm starting a tag list, comment if you want to be added :)

“You write like you’re running out of time,” mused Lizzie Stark, former prostitute, now Tommy’s secretary. “They have typewriters for those types of things, y’know?”

You saw the volley of cannonballs that launched and subsequently landed on Tommy’s desk as the words left her mouth. It wasn’t that you expected more of poor old plain Lizzie, but you thought that the time she had spent lying on her back staring past the shoulder of a customer at the ceiling would have taught her to read a room. Nevertheless, she stood there, quite amused with herself, smiling stupidly at your husband.

Tommy, who had been sitting at his desk all afternoon attending to letters, the ledger, and god knows what else, peered up from the paper. “What did you say?”

This time, it was your turn to be amused. He pointed accusingly at Lizzie, who by then had realised her impetuous mistake. Her wide eyes fluttered to you desperately, like a bee that had indulged itself in so much pollen that it became stuck in its own honey. No, that was putting it lightly. She looked to you like a frightened child who knew exactly what kind of trouble they were in.

You made sure you looked the other way.

“It was only a silly joke,” came her spluttering apology.

Tommy squinted, and his mouth curled into a frown. Smoke chased the deep exhale from the cigarette hanging between his lips. Your husband carried this terrifying look to him that many feared. Without the peaky cap to cover his striking blue eyes, you saw his glare cut away the cords in Lizzie’s throat with just one look. How could poor Lizzie defend herself from eyes that had witnessed nightmarish things?

“I’m not clear. Is it funny that I sign my letters by hand, or are you above using ink now that you have graduated from the bed to the desk?”

Lizzie’s mouth wormed into a thin line, yet she still looked to you for help. Of what help she thought you would possibly spare, you weren’t sure. For once, Lizzie used initiative and showed herself out.

Your heels clacked across the wooden threshold of your husband’s office. Now that no one was there to disturb you both, you sat down on Tommy’s lap. By then, he was leaning back on his chair, work abandoned for the time being until he could wash the sour sight of Lizzie Stark from his eyes.

“You know I don’t like her,” you said plainly.

There was no need for fake smiles or lies with Tommy. You knew him, and he knew you.

Tommy exhaled loudly, stubbing out the last of his cigarette on his ashtray and taking a swig of whiskey before his calloused hand found your waist.

He clears his throat. “It’s only business with her.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I like her any less.”

Tommy loved you, not Lizzie Stark, yet you couldn’t stomach the undeniable jealousy that arose with her presence. Perhaps it was a natural inclination women had toward their lovers. Lizzie had never done anything outwardly wrong to you. So, what was it then that turned your plain teeth into hissing fangs?

Everyone knew that Tommy was one of her paying customers before you met him, but so were all of Small Heath. You never felt insecure in your relationship with Tommy; there was no need to feel threatened by a prostitute. Yet that wouldn’t stop the catty feline that emerged from its slumber when Lizzie’s wandering eyes battered at your husband.

No. Lizzie Stark would never know what it felt like to be loved by a man like Tommy. What you held in your hands each night was a transcendental, unconditional type of love—one that surpassed the heart and soul, which drew two beings together in the most unconventional yet fitting way. The way that covers kept you warm at night, Tommy watched over your hearth and kept the fire burning, even if he were on the other side of the country.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the valley between Tommy’s neck and shoulder as you listened for the bah-dum-bah-dum of his heart. They sat together in silence, cherishing each other’s presence, while Tommy rested his cheek on your head. Outside, the world waited, barking at their front door and scratching at the delicately carved wood. Even the rain lashed at the windowpanes, playing together like one elemental orchestra.

The hand not resting on your waist rose to gently stroke up and down your arm. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“I think you have some work to attend to in the bedroom,” you mumbled into his neck.

Your nose searched for the spot where he applied his aftershave.

“Eh?” Came his gruff response.

Your hand wandered down his suit in answer.

The sheets were bundled around Tommy’s naked waist when you sauntered back over to the bed with his case of cigarettes in hand. Gratefully, he took the case from your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into the warmth of his chest. Then he began the usual routine. He fished out a cigarette to offer, but you shook your head no, so he slid it once, then twice, across his bottom lip. On the bedside table, he grabbed the half-empty matchbox to light the cigarette.

Tommy was the resident chain smoker in your house. With an appetite for tobacco and whiskey, you often wondered just how he sustained himself throughout the day. Of course, there were the home-cooked meals at Arrow House waiting for his return, although that didn’t stop you from worrying any less. It was pathetic, really, sitting all alone in his study, twiddling your fingers, and sitting beneath his portrait like you were praying to him. Tommy was no god, no matter how much he tried to convince everyone else. Yet whenever headlights passed the window and lit up the office momentarily, you would stand up and peer out, hoping to spot your husband exiting the car.

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the present. You loved watching the way the cigarette shifted between his lips when he spoke, even more when his hooded eyes looked over at you. Tommy was a man of few words, simply because he didn’t need language to communicate. His body spoke for him in tongues for all his enemies to understand. And more importantly, in a way your body understood.

Your hand abandoned his tattoo to stroke a thumb across his full bottom lip. Lust swelled there, eager to chase the rest of the night away into a haze of pleasure until the sun rose. As tempting as it was, you sighed at the thought. You would rather spend this time taking in your husband, remembering the fine details across his face and body, from the scar in the hollow of his cheek to the rough texture beneath his shoulder blade where a bullet was once lodged. You wanted to trace the sockets of his eyes the way a blind person would, treasuring each valley, mountain, and cut of skin as if it were to disappear the second you stopped touching him.

“You’re beautiful,” you decided, bathed in candlelight, tangled up between the sheets and Tommy’s arms.

Tommy’s brows furrowed, and the cigarette hung dangerously loose from where his lips curled into a frown. He grunted, clearly dissatisfied with your words. Tommy wasn’t beautiful. He was hard, ambitious, and unmovable force.

Beautiful was a conventional word savored for the finest women. To you? It meant so much more. Crafted in a way that would cause people to stare, sure, but there was also a poetic sense to the word. The type of beauty you would use to describe a well-written novel or heart-wrenching poem. Thomas Shelby stood for something, and that was beautiful.

“Then what are you, eh?”

A lazy smile floated onto your face, so much so that you had to bite your lip to refrain from looking devastatingly pleased at his answer.

A woman, a dreamer, a friend, a reader, an achiever. “A wife.”

He huffed, raising his eyebrows playfully.

Why was it that most women felt like they could only fit the frame of one? With Tommy, you were never limited to the endless possibilities. You treasured being a wife the same way you treasured your other roles. Marriage wasn’t the end all be all. Perhaps that’s another lie men spun—that perfectly capable women stopped existing as soon as a diamond ring slid onto their finger. How sad, you thought, to waste away all that potential when men were still free to pursue stupid ideas like war and dog fights.

Tommy was unbothered by traditional ideas like that. Change powered his ambition; he had no time for parallel lines. You could be his wife, a writer, a singer, or a mother—whatever you wanted—and he wouldn’t think of you any less.

You hummed, chasing that cigarette from his lips and stubbing it out in the ash tray by his bedside table. Tommy didn’t seem too heartbroken about it. In fact, there was some mirth in his gaze. His hands traced up your naked spine, pulling your body further into his until you could smell the smoke in his breath.

“Yes,” he breathed in loudly through his nose, “my wife.”

The following day, you were invited to the Basnett's hunting party. You would’ve been more enthusiastic to write about your excitement to attend if the whole ordeal hadn’t been so troublesome. Because a few days prior, when you were visiting your husband’s office, you had caught sight of the letter on Lizzie’s desk, a letter that was supposed to reach you days earlier.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Lizzie had said, too occupied with filing her nails while on the clock.

You kept your composure for the sake of keeping the peace. You didn’t wish to disturb Tommy if he were to walk by.

“This is a letter addressed to me,” you pressed.

“Oh.” She stopped for a moment, then leaned over to read the letter you had pulled from the messy pile. “No, it’s addressed to Tommy.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Shelby,” you hissed quietly, with emphasis on the missus.

“Hm, I didn’t notice.”

“You are paid to notice.” You fought the urge to comment that she was paid for other things not long ago. “How long has this been sitting here?”

Lizzie tapped her cigarette ash into the tray. “The post boy dropped that lot off yesterday.”

Even if it was only two days late to reach your hand, by society’s standards, that may have well been taken as you snubbing the invitation. Frustratingly, you had to cancel your plans that day and personally deliver your letter to the Basnett’s door, citing some excuse of it having been lost in the post.

“That woman is up to no good.” You said glumly that night into Tommy’s chest.

“I’ll speak to her,” he promised in that stoic tone of his.

Whether he had been true to his words, you weren’t sure because Lizzie made an effort to avoid you when possible.

“Oh! Mrs. Shelby! How wonderful for you to join us! Come in, come in. The men are readying their rifles for the hunt outside. How exciting!” Gushed Lady Basnett, shooing you into the atrium of her lavish mansion.

Your riding boots clacked across the floor before being muffled by an intricately woven rug. You stared up at the chandelier, childishly wondering if it would hit you if it were to fall at that moment.

“Right this way, Mrs. Shelby!” Lady Basnett ushered excitably.

You debated if all her energy was for show—to please her husband and be the good wife he expected of her. After she showed you through to the veranda and down to the circle of wives who had gathered under the trees while their husbands readied for the hunt, you decided that no, she must truly enjoy planning social occasions like this, as evidenced by the way she kissed Sarah’s cheek in greeting with a wide grin.

It pleased you to know that Lady Basnett found joy in something. Ever since her eldest died in the war, she has been known to be a bit of a recluse.

“Oh, what a beautiful ring! May we see it?” Doe-eyed Catherine asked.

She was one of the younger wives, like yourself. Catherine married an older man, twice her senior. Many of the wives here faulted her for it behind her back, but not you. You saw more of yourself in her than you did in any of the other women. Because, despite the age gap, the girl seemed to be utterly head-over-heels in love with a man society deemed old-fashioned for her. And how could you blame her when you swore an oath to a gangster of all people?

You obliged and let the wives twist and turn your hand to better inspect the diamonds on your ring finger.

“It’s perfect!”

“How many carats?”

“My Mary would be so jealous!”

After dutifully showing your wedding ring, you noticed the men beginning to mount their horses.

Catherine hooked her arm around yours. “Come on, we are going to be left behind!”

She jovially pulled you along the stone tiles at a speed that made you grateful for wearing riding boots. The backyard was grand in the sense that the acres they owned stretched vastly into the nearby forest. Although there were impressive features, like the hedge they had grown into a maze and the trees that were shaped into birds.

“Lady Basnett owned an aviary of budgies. Dear little things they were, she was devastated when they all escaped one night after the groundskeeper forgot to close the door,” Catherine commented, having noticed the way your head was turned.

You laughed, because you could precisely picture Lady Basnett as the type to fawn over little budgies.

Catherine led you to the horses, where some of the wives were already perched, waiting for the party to leave. None of them carried rifles, but rather wicker baskets strapped to the saddle for the picnic they planned to have at the top of the hill while they waited for their husbands to finish hunting.

Together, you set off, having mounted the back of Catherine’s mare. Deeper into the forest you went, the black mare trotting over loose dirt and rocks. Both of you remained at the end of the pack, preferring to keep to yourselves in light conversation.

Then it all happened so suddenly. One of the rifles went off up ahead, and a flock of birds rushed at you from the break in the foliage, startling your mare. You gasped in shock and reached for Catherine’s jacket to hold on, but only skimmed her. She went face first into the dirt while you were swept into the air like a leaf and fell with the grace of a rock. The ground thundered as the mare galloped into the distance.

“Fuck!” Catherine spat.

(On her fall she had taken a mouthful of soil and leaves.)

“They’ll come back,” you tried to reassure her.

Hours later, the two of you still had not been found.

“I was a prostitute before George found me, y’know.”

No, you didn’t know.

“That’s why I’m so young and he so old,” she smiled fondly, laughing as if it were the most normal thing.

You couldn’t find it in your heart to dislike her because of her circumstances. She was your friend, and a true one at that.

What was it that Tommy said? The past is the past.

The sun began to set when one of the men from the hunting party found you both huddled together under a tree. Kindly, he let the two of you ride the rest of the way back despite your hesitance to mount another horse.

When you returned to Lady Basnett’s, with Catherine in arm, the sun had been set for at least two hours. You hadn’t realized what trouble you had gotten yourself into until you noticed Tommy’s Bentley parked in the crowded driveway of the mansion. Men stood at the gate, armed and waiting. Catherine opened her mouth to remark how ridiculous it was, but you kept your lips sealed after recognizing the guards to be Peaky Blinders.

Tommy had to be beside himself.

A young boy who was playing between the cars popped his head out when the gates squealed open. His ears perked up, and he ran inside, clutching his peaky cap, to probably inform the adults inside of your arrival. People pooled out onto the front steps, the women covering their hearts and sighing with relief, and the men holding their hats to their chests. But when your husband, Tommy, came storming out, they parted like the red sea.

He stalked across the gravel like a predator, his eyes trained on you with an unblinking stare.

“Are you hurt?” He ignored Catherine, cupping your face and frantically looking between both your eyes as if you would disappear.

Upon further inspection, his eyes were bloodshot, and the white sleeves of his blouse were bundled into the golden garters. Your hands itched to muse his disheveled hair into place, but with all the curious onlookers, you thought better of it.

“No.”

George, Catherine’s husband, was quick to whisk her away inside. You heard Lady Basnett’s voice trailing after them: “Oh my, what a terrible thing. Come now, let me pour you some tea.”

Unfortunately, tea wouldn’t make up for any lost ground with Tommy.

“We’re going.”

You knew better to open your mouth to disagree. This was Tommy being afraid and carrying on. He retreated into himself. It didn’t look pretty or like he cared, but he cared; you knew he cared. It was only that no one else was allowed to know that the great Thomas Shelby felt any emotion.

At Arrow House, he swallowed two glasses of whiskey before saying a word. You were pulling at the hem of the overcoat that Tommy had shook off his shoulders to give you for the ride home. Your fingers just couldn’t stand the anxious silence that rang throughout the room.

“What the fuck happened?”

He stood in front of you, stoic as a soldier but cracking around the exterior thanks to his hand, which itched for the cigarette case inside his pocket. (A nervous tick of his.) You grab his hand between your own before he can fish out the case.

“The horse got spooked. It bucked Catherine and me off, but we’re fine.”

His thumb rubs across your knuckles as he looks past your shoulder out the window.

“Do you know where I was when I got the call? Eh? I was handling some business when Lizzie came in and told me some posh old woman was on the line, saying you were missing.”

He exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze to you, where you noticed his eyes soften.

“I thought…” He broke off.

His chin dropped, and he went to itch his nose with his other hand.

“What did you think happened? Is there something I should know about?” Concern leaked into your voice.

“No,” he huffed, clearing his throat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home, and you’re safe.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything that might push him over the edge. He was fragile in a state like this in the sense that he pushed the stronger, more vivid feelings to the side because you were his wife, not a Peaky Blinder. No, you would never be, even though you married one.

Often, you would wish you could turn into the leaves that swept off the pavement and into the air. Imagine then how much easier life would be for you both—to forget the animosity of life and rise above it all, breathe in that crystal air, and then finally exclaim the truth because up there no one could hear them or cared enough to try anyway.

Cautiously, you let go of his hand and traced your fingertips up to knead away the tension in his jaw.

“Thomas… Do you remember what you asked of me? To help you with the whole fucking thing—”

“From now on—”

“Thomas—”

“From now on, let me know where you are going. I will organize a guard to watch over you.”

‘You write like you’re running out of time,’ Lizzie’s poorly placed joke from the start of the week reverberated in your skull.

Was he?

“I need you,” he breathed, the smell of whiskey fanning over your senses.

You nodded, pressing up on your toes to kiss him. A soft breath escaped him when you pulled away.

“You have me.”

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sleekista · 4 months

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you are broken on the floor

alexia putellas x keeper!reader

overview: goalkeeping means sacrificing your body, how far would you go?

A/N: i feel rlly sad so i got the discord to come up with ideas (thanks @totaly-obsessed + @alotofpockets)

TW: Blood, Severe Injury, Brutal Angst

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

Ever since a child, you loved the feeling of saving footballs. If any of the teams you were on needed someone in goals you'd be the first the volunteer, along the way you actually got good at it and eventually signed with Barcelona in 2021, making good friends along the way.

Along with joining Barça, it came with getting a girlfriend. Who was the best person you'd ever had in your life romantically.

Being a keeper in the best club would always mean injuries, trying to keep a clean sheet like any defensive player wants.

Sometimes though, injuries are worse. Life threatening in some cases, career ending in others. It's something no player even wishes upon their most rivalled team.

You just had to be unlucky didn't you?

Barcelona were comfortably winning against Frankfurt 3-0, when a gap in defense allows a German player to make their strike. You fall back onto the line hoping the punch the ball away.

Seems like life has other plans.

The player shoots left, you dive left and push the ball away. However with being airborne, you can’t stop. Your body crashes into the post with a loud thud.

The stadium goes quiet, your screams and cries horrific. Your body looks… wrong.

Your collarbone isn’t straight, it’s indescribable. Bones are poking out. There’s blood running down your face where your head has cracked open after hitting the post.

It’s sickening to watch.

Players immediately rush over, forming a circle around you as to not show a fellow player in such vulnerable state.

Alexia is by your side trying to comfort you, trying to keep you still. Seeing you in this much pain makes her heart ache. If she could take it all, she would.

Paramedics are by your side instantly as the circle of players back up to give them space to work, Alexia sits helplessly watching you worm in pain.

After quick testing to make sure you were still alive and conscious, they get you on the stretcher. Which includes more screaming, and more pain.

Alexia watches as you get taken off the field in a hurry, fans of both teams clap and give you a standing ovation.

“Alexia, she’s strong. Let’s finish and win this game for her yeah?” Mapi pats her best friends back, also devastated at the turn on events.

“Ye- yeah.” The captains broken voice says.

- - - - -

As the rest of the minutes in the game are being played, you’re fighting for your life in the back of an ambulance.

The pain getting unbearable, you find yourself slowly slipping in and out of consciousness. Paramedics are doing things around you, but your eyes are too glossy to really tell. Your mind is also too fuzzy to think straight.

There is one thing you want, Ale. But, with everything? You wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve ruined some of your vocal cords from screaming so loud.

Soon enough, you succumb to the darkness. Letting it engulf you to a place less ridden in pain and chaos.

- - - - -

The game is over, an unspoken heaviness in the air surrounding both teams. There is little interaction with fans, whom luckily understand the pain the players must be feeling at the time.

Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid get in the Norwegian’s car and drive straight to the hospital where the medical team said you were going to.

When arriving, Ingrid drops Alexia and Mapi before parking, understanding they need each other. You were important to everyone, but Mapi was like your sister and Ale was obviously your girlfriend.

They rush inside, talking quickly to the nurse at reception who gives them sorry smiles, updating them all that she could. Which was that you were alive and in emergency surgery.

They don’t argue, it’s pointless. So they sit down on uncomfortable plastic chairs, playing a waiting game until you were coherent and safe.

- - - - -

4 hours and many freak out sessions later, a doctor walks over to the three girls explaining the situation you’re in.

“It’s a grade 2 concussion to her head, in cases like these there is chance for memory loss. I believe she has all her memory, we were talking about different things before I came here. It’s a high possibility that she has no memories from the accident though.” He pauses before continuing.

“She experienced a dislocated collarbone. We’ve put it back in its original place, recovery could take 1 year and she might never be to the level she was at currently again. We had to do work on surrounding ligaments which makes the recovery time longer.” The girls take in the information.

“Have you told her she won’t play for a while?” Ingrid asks the question on everyone’s mind.

“I did, she was upset in her own right. If that is all your questions, she has her own room. I believe you all know concussion protocol?” They nod.

“Ok, room 3146. If you need anything at all just shout.”

“Gracias, for everything you’ve done.” The doctor smiles at Alexia.

“No problem.”

- - - - -

When reaching the room, the 3 Barça players see your state, a gauze wrapped around your head and a large cast across your torso, restricting movement.

“Amor?” Alexia asks cautiously.

“Hi Ale.” You look at the other two. “Mapi, Ingrid, nice to see you.”

Alexia sits by the chair on the side of your bed, looking up with teary eyes.

“Please, please don’t ever do that again.” She sobs, cradling your face softly. “I can’t- I can’t lose you.”

“Ale, you’ve got me. I’m right here, please don’t cry amor. Por favor.” You look over to the other two in the room, smiling softly.

She takes a couple minutes to settle down and finally talk.

“Have you heard about your recovery?”

“Sí” You watch her sigh, tracing patterns over your hand.

“Lo siento, but I’ll be with you the whole way ok? I promise.” She says without an inch of hesitation in her voice.

“Te amo mucho Ale. That means so much more than you could ever know.” She responds by leaving a lingering kiss against your hand.

“I’m glad you’re ok. Had as all worried.” Ingrid smiles lightly.

“Yeah.. I don’t remember much about what happened. I might later on but for now I’m content without the memories.” She laughs.

“Well, all of the culers and people at Barça wish you a safe and great recovery. Even if the doctor hasn’t said it, you’ll come back stronger I know it.”

“Thanks Maps, I think I stay in the hospital for a few more days then I’m clear to go home. I have to wear this for like 6 weeks then start the strengthening physio whatever.”

“Ah, can’t wait to see you on the pitch again then amiga. Well, Ingrid and I will leave you and Ale to talk on your own. If you ever need funny company instead of serious company I am always here.” You hold onto your laugh smirking.

“Alright León, keep it moving.” You joke back and watch the couple leave.

You think back to what recovery is going to be like. A very long journey. It seems your girlfriend notices your thoughts.

“Shh, you’ll be fine and as Mapi said you’ll come back better.”

“Thanks Ale.” She leans over and presses a kiss to your lips softly.

- - - - -

The next few weeks are tough, you feel as though you’re useless. Alexia has all this stuff on her plate already and you’re just another one. However she is always quick to shut those thoughts down. No matter how moody, or how angry you got at her. She stayed, just like she promised she would.

Who knows what the future holds, maybe something, maybe nothing. What does matter though? Is who you go there with. For you it’s Ale. It will always be Alexia.

—————————————————————————

PART 2 - here

also i did say i was sick now i’m feeling better.. physically (not mentally since i just wrote this fic)

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #wlw #espwnt #espwnt x reader #ingrid engen #mapi leon

765 notes · View notes

supermarketbae · 3 months

Note

hi! did u miss meeee😇 can we have missionary sex, dom billy takes full control of sub reader. He kisses her tears away, praising her for taking his big cock, lots of wet sounds and billy just pounding u into the bed. Thank you🥰🥰🥰

DUH ofc I did love! Grrrrr I’m on my monthly and this isn’t helping my intense forever hornyness so WELLPPP-

Well Aren’t You Pretty?

warnings: dom!Billy, sub reader, manhandling, light choking, p in v, praise, degradation, dirty talk, reader is fem, dumbification, slight breeding kink, idk what else tell me if I missed sum (not formatted bc it’s me also the pic is not meant to represent readers skin tone I Js think it’s pretty)

Your brain was simply melted. Scorched even. You felt like warm honey was trailing slowly down your spine covering your supple body as your boyfriend, Billy, kissed and suckled on your neck as he whispered filthy things in your ear that had you clenching your thighs together in need. “You’re quite warm.” Came the cool low drawl. You shiver as Billy smirks down at you, lips slowly parting to reveal sharp incisors which he darts his tongue across. The room felt sticky, like a humid summers day and as Billy’s ocean colored eyes look down at you, you huff softly, eyebrows furrowing as he climbs on top of you. “I wonder why that would be.” You coo back smiling impish as Billy takes a strong hand to your cheek, caressing your skin before tilting your chin up and kissing you on your lips fiercely.

“Fuckin’ brat” comes the ever quick reply. Billy’s deep voice never failed to strike a cord of arousal deep in your belly. You wiggle your hips suggestively as you scrunch your nose “You love me though.” You say it as a statement because you know it’s true. Billy shakes his head in amusement, a true smile gracing his tanned face as he nods kissing you once more. You giggle as strands of his sun kissed blonde hair tickle at your face. As much as he’d hate to admit, you have Billy wrapped around your manicured finger.

But, as he dragged his finger down the valley of your perky boobs you keen softly looking up at him with pleading doe eyes as your lashes flutter sultrily. “That shuts you up every. Fuckin’. Time.” Billy bites warmly in your ear. His muscular thighs caging you in hotly pressed against him. Shaking, you look up at him submissively, biting your lip as he grins meanly, placing his mouth inches from yours as he ghosts “And I fucking love it too.” You whine at this, bucking your hips up into his trying for any form of reaction. You get it. Billy licks a strip of your neck “I want words sweetheart.” He sighs and you can feel a bulge as you buck your hips up again.

“Stop teasing” you stutter voice pitchy. Billy chuckles darkly at your writhing whines, wincing as your breathy voice sends heat shooting to his nearing painful hard on. He was going to fuck you until you couldn’t walk he mused, lips quirking up at the thought. “You want me to stop darlin’?” he groans feigning hurt. You could tell by the timbre in his voice that he was going to play you until you broke. “N-uh-No!” You protest quickly and you’re fast to realize your mistake as Billy’s eyes darken in possessiveness. You gasp turns reedy as Billy slips a hand into your shorts index finger rubbing sharp circles into your clit in a way he knows short circuits your brain. “Then want do you want doll?” Billy drags out the pet name innocently. You know what he wants. And you know what you need, so you swallow your pride and beg. “Puh-ah- please fuck me Billy.” Your soft cry has him groaning as he feels a distinctive drool of his cock. “Well aren’t you a pretty little thing” Billy whispers as his large hands grip your waist-much to your delight- as he pulls you down closer to him.

“Gonna fuck you so good sweetheart,” Billy smiles kissing your cheek as your back bows and you arch up into him moaning at his words. “Such good fuckin’ manners,” he continues nipping at your collarbone. “And good manners deserve a reward huh?” He growls as his right hand snakes to your neck addictively. You claw at his bicep holding him as his fingers slip into your gushing cunt. “Bills-ah-Billy please I need it” you whimper, the soft nickname not passing Billy’s ears.

“Such a greedy little pussy hmm?” At this snarky regard Billy thrusts his fingers quickly in and out of your throbbing hole. Mewling you shudder, red nails creating crescents in his golden skin. “Baby please I-oh fuckkk~” your eyes roll while your hips instinctively attempt to cant closed. Billy’s grip on your calf stops this however as he guides your shorts and panties down quickly to have better access to your sloppy cunt. You blush, mouth forming into an oh as Billy’s eyes glaze at the sight-and sound of him working his thick fingers into your tight core.

“Such a good fucking girl,” Billy mumbles husky, as the wet sounds of your glistening heat reach his perked ears, Billy inhales shakily and starts to rut his hips into the mattress as your eyes turn hazy and tear filled from pleasure. “Billy!” Your voice is breathier still and much higher, but the way you say his name has him moaning yours back lowly. “Look at this darlin’ she’s practically leaking for me.” Billy coos referring to your pussy, one hand still placed over your hips holding you down.

As your hole gives a telling repeated flutter he grins evilly and you whine so close to cumming on his fingers. “Are you gonna cum for me doll?” Billy asks deep voice adding to the tight coil in your tummy. You nod vigorously, opening your mouth to speak but only a strangled little sigh slips out. “The only way you’re going to be doing that-” you nearly wail as Billy pulls out his coated fingers, cunt clenching as he brings them to his outstretched tongue to lick them clean. “Is if your creaming on my cock sweetheart.” He finishes. You can’t help but to let out a small keen at his words. You can feel them in your chest clawing their way to your heart and squeezing. Maybe that’s why your heart skips a beat as he pulls down his boxers teasingly slow.

Billy’s head cocks back as the flushed head of his red, weeping dick hits the cool air. You stare at it unabashed and wanting as you trail your eyes up the veins to his glistening slit. “See something you want?” Comes Billy’s forward teasing lilt. Nonetheless though, he grins eyes flashing as you nod needily and whimper for him to rail you. He quirks his brow at your panting silence, so you gasp out “please put it in—ah!” Your indignant plea is cut short with a squeal as he thrusts into you easily and to the hilt.

You cry softly as Billy’s hips piston into yours fast. It felt so good— the rhythmic push of his hips into yours. And as you whimpered and pulsed around his girth Billy let out a loud groan, much to the delight of your cunt that continues to gush around him and tighten warmly. “Feel so-oh fuck—s-so fuckin’ good” Billy slurs into you as his eyes screw shut tightly before opening once more. You relish in the way the corn flower blue of his iris’ are hidden by his blown pupils. The pussy drunk look on his face matched a similar look of pleasure that was upon yours.

“Always look so gorgeous crying on my dick baby~” Billy murmurs to you hotly as he bites the bottom of your ear, the sting was gentle, shocking you back from the hazy state your mind was in. You gave an appreciative moan and clench around him, your voice betraying you. “So—mmm-so big Billy-ah- make me feel so—so good.” You squeak out. Billy’s drunken grin widens at your praise and he somehow ruts even faster into you. Your body goes slack yet stiff at this your hands clawing into the sheets as well as Billy’s back attempting to anchor yourself to something— anything comforting as your hole is abused again and again. At some point your thighs must have closed again because suddenly it all stops.

Your brain is moving slow and out of focus, like you took a picture and forgot to zoom back in. You’re highly aware of Billy’s strong, warm hands tracing down your figure. You arch into them for comfort until you realize their sinister task. You yelp as his Billy growls lifting one of your legs to his shoulder holding you spread wide for him to do whatever the hell he wants to you.

Billy wants to ruin you.

You can see it in his eyes as his face drops closer to yours. The intensity of his gaze has you shutting your eyes but now gripping onto his shoulders as he gyrates his hips into a slow grind. A slurred moan melts out of you as Billy’s hand, once again finds its place at your neck. “Eyes on me pretty girl.” Billy commands evenly. Immediately your eyes snap open, your brows still pinched. In this position, he was so much deeper, rubbing against a spot that had you seeing stars.

“fuck me~” is all you can choke out whimpering so soft it’s barely audible, but Billy hears you. He complies with a slow deep thrust that has you, again clinging to his bulky biceps. “Right there huh?” Billy groans as you arch up into him “yeahhh right there sweetheart—f-fuck— I can feel this tight little cunt milking me.” He whines into your ear. The only thought in your brain is Billy, and as he fucks you hard and deep, it’s the only thing your brain is tuning into. You inhale shakily when you realize you’ve forgotten to breathe.

Billy swipes his thumb over your lip as you drool, tongue stuck slightly out from the overwhelming pleasure you feel. “Yes—ah-oh fuck please please I-harder!” Your voice warbles pornographically. Your eyes roll back as the tightened hotness in your belly nears snapping. You’re so very, very, close.

“Please-Nuh—no don’t stop-m-‘m gonna c-uh!” Your confusing mewls spur Billy on as his abs tighten he gives an answering shuddering gasp “wouldn’t—ah- wouldn’t dream of it darlin’” he rasps. Billy doesn’t hold back as he moans “come on—mmm- cum on this cock, s-show me how good I make you feel love.” And at the pet name you shatter the tightened coil of arousal in your belly finally snapping, oh so addictively. You attempt to thrash, but are held still by Billy’s arms caging around your body.

The way your warm velvety walls clench around Billy’s leaking cock is enough to send him over the edge as well moaning your name as he spills into you dribbling, as he continues to fuck his cum back in. As he continues to move, you grab his long hair pulling his face to yours as you kiss his plump, bitten lips needily. A few sloppy thrusts later, Billy’s hips still and you pull away breathless from the hot and heavy kiss. Happy and totally satisfied in Billy’s larger body atop of yours.

“You alright?” Comes the now loving drawl of your boyfriend as a dopey smile spreads across your face. You merely giggle, snuggling closer into his arms as you nod “Just peachy.” You snicker. A responding chuckle into your shoulder tells you that Billy heard your silly antics. “I don’t think I remember my name.” You mutter.

You’re only half serious.

Billy kisses your cheek before nipping your collarbone one last time “Then I definitely fucked your brains out doll.”

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gtgbabie0 · 5 months

Text

-Finnick Odair x reader

{Quiet moments between you and Finnick when you can’t sleep}

I hope you enjoy my lovelies! 💕

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Winter was in full force, with harsh winds that nipped at your skin. Not even the fireplace could fend off, let alone the fluffy covers that you’ve layered upon your shared bed. Perhaps it was the cold chill in the air that prevented sleep from capturing you, or maybe it was something else entirely… you decide to not let your mind wander to what that could possibly be.

You sit up wrapping your cotton shawl around your shoulders tightly as your eyes scan across your room, dimly lit by the small sliver of moonlight that peaks behind the curtains and stretches across the floor trailing along the wall.

Finnick doesn’t stir with your movement which means he must be exhausted because he’s often a light sleeper, although you’re not surprised with the busy day he’s had. You smile softly down at him, the way his cheek is smushed against the soft pillow. You gently push his hair away from his closed eyes as you admire him, you’re glad he’s found comfort beside you.

The thought crosses your mind to wake him up, he’s always told you that if you can’t sleep to wake him up, he wouldn’t mind. But looking at him now, you just can’t bring yourself to do it, you’d feel far too guilty.

Instead, you decide to make your way to the kitchen, but not before putting on a pair of thick socks, after all, the tiled floor always felt much colder in the dead of night. Perhaps a warm drink would help lull you to sleep? You think to yourself as you fill the kettle.

You cringe slightly as the water begins to boil, squeezing your eyes shut at the sudden loud noise. Finnick had brought all types of different teas with the hope that one of them might help you get a good night's rest, he’d do anything if it meant you were happy.

You remember when he brought them home, two whole bags full of boxes with different kinds of ‘sleep treatments’ it brought tears to your eyes.

Finnick was always sweet to you, it shows in the way he looks at you, the way he holds you, and the sweet nothings he whispers to you whenever you feel down. You start to miss him, even though he’s only in your shared bedroom, the room next to the kitchen, fast asleep.

You pour the hot water into the small ceramic mug, the same one Peeta had gifted you as a congratulations for your engagement, he had hand painted them, beautiful flowers that swirl around the cup.

Soon enough the sweet smell of the tea reaches you, soothing the restless feeling that builds up within your chest. You take a small sip of the warm beverage as Finnick wanders through the kitchen, eyes heavy with sleep.

“It’s freezing out here honey” his voice is rough despite the softness of his tone, exhaustion hangs on his every word. he shuffles closer to you, bringing his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as if he’s trying to protect you from the chill that lingers within the air.

A sigh falls from your lips when he presses a kiss to your forehead, his hands soothing against your back as you rest against him. Even in the safety of his arms the guilt still bubbles up within you, “Did I wake you up?” You ask, pushing your face against his shoulder.

“No, was already awake” he’s lying but you decide not to fight him on it, far too distracted by the warmth of his hands as they slip underneath your shirt, fingers splaying across your lower back. “Can’t sleep without you anyway” he says, pulling back to get a better look at you, the truth of his words are shown through his eyes.

“M’sorry” you mumble into the soft fabric of his shirt, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me” The words come out much heavier than you’d like and it strikes a cord within Finnick, one that pinches his heart.

He tuts softly as he leans back slightly, holding your chin with his finger and thumb. “Hey,” he whispers, tilting your head to look at him. His eyes immediately soften as yours find his, “Don’t apologise, honey, it’s what I’m here for, yeah?” He smiles, seeming more awake than he was just mere minutes ago.

“I know, I just- I don’t want to be too much” The words feel silly as they escape your lips but your chest feels lighter for it. You know deep down you shouldn’t feel like this, Finnick has never made you feel anything but loved.

“Too much?” He repeats after you as if you had just said something that had completely baffled him, and it did. “There’s no such thing, sweetness,” he tells you, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I love you- so much” he whispers against your lips before kissing you, not letting your mind wander elsewhere for even a second.

“I love you too Finn” you exhale, eyes closing as he rests his forehead against your own, your noses bumping against each others slightly.

“Come on, it’s warmer in bed,” he says, unwrapping his arms from around you as he picks up the tea you had made, “I got this, you go get into bed honey” he smiles and you know better than to fight him on it, so you do as he says, climbing back into the cosy bed with Finnick following shortly behind you.

He hands you the warm beverage before joining you, his hand slipping into your own as you take small sips of your drink. He talks about the market, how they're starting to sell that one specific seasonal bread you like, and he even begins to make plans for the weekend with you. his voice clams your nerves, it brings peace.

"Thank you, Finnick" you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder as he pulls the blankets over your legs.

He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing soft kisses to your knuckles, “Always for you” he says, voice heavy with sleep once again. You set your mug on the bedside table before turning back to him, and for the first time tonight, you start to feel yourself drift off as you lay in his arms.

Finnick could admire you forever without wanting anything, study every ‘imperfection’ and fall even more in love with you. He would pour his heart out to you right now if he wasn’t so tired so instead he settles for a simple, “G’night beautiful” with love dripping from his tone, and soon enough you both find sleep.

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d0youc0py · 11 months

Text

Even when he wasn’t working his mask seem to haunt him. He wanted to be here with you- but every time he looked in the mirror he was pulled away. Red bumps littered his jaw and some even around his hairline. He had always struggled with acne, having the acne scars to prove it, but it seemed to be getting worse. He’d been in a hotter climate this last mission, the sweat and not being able to air out his face was taking its toll.

He felt so unattractive. He quickly figured out when you feel ugly- you act ugly.

“Sweetheart, open up.” Simon sighed, his hand knocking at the door to emphasize. You two had just gone out on your first date since he’s been back and he snipped at you the whole time.

“Fuck off!”

Ouch.

“Sweetheart.” He started again. The bedroom door finally swung open. His body tensed at your teary face.

“I don’t know what happened to you while you were out there, and god knows you won’t tell me, but you have no right to take it out on me. I’ve been waiting for you to come home for the past three weeks and what am I greeted with? Hostility. It’s like I can’t do anything right.” You sputtered, glaring up at him. His hand instinctively went up to wipe the tears away from your face. He had never been the best at comforting people, but he would do anything to get your tears to stop.

“You’re right.” He admitted. The glare left your face. He was usually much more stubborn- unless he knew he in the was wrong. You softened. “It has nothin to do with work, at least not in the way you think.” His hand went up to rub his jaw but he quickly stopped himself. “I just haven’t been feeling”- He paused. He brought his hand up and motioned to his jaw, turning his head to the side.

“Si.” You murmured. You had noticed a little flare in his skin, but you didn’t really process it. He was always so handsome in your eyes. Your fingers reached up and traced along his cheekbone. “I understand.”

“Shouldn’t take it out on you though, yeah?” He affirmed.

“No you shouldn’t, but I understand now.” You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his chin. “You’re so handsome, you know.” You mumbled down his neck. He flushed, clearing his throat. “Do you want some help with it?” You offered.

His metabolism wasn’t what it use to be. Luckily the physical activity of his job kept away any unwanted pounds. That was until he was forced to go on medical leave and spend three months ‘taking it easy.’

He would be completely lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed it though. Being home with you had been heaven- but a bit of hell on his waistline. He noticed it a bit, but he honestly didn’t think anyone else would. He was rudely awoken when he arrived back at base only to have Soap and Gaz poke fun at him. He knew it was all in good fun, but his first thoughts were about you. Had you noticed? If you did, how did you feel about it? He hushed his own thoughts figuring he would loose the weight out on the field. That was his second rude awakening. He had shed a few pounds, but a few stubborn ones remained poking out over his belt.

“How does Y/N feel about their new pillow?” Soap hummed, plopping down next to him. It had been like this for the past month.

“Sleeps like a rock.” Price grumbled.

“Didn’t know you knew what that was Cap.”

“Soap fuck off.” Ghost growled from across the aisle. “Fucking hell.”

The plane was quiet for a while after that.

John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was never one to be insecure, but this was striking a cord. He remembers being younger and overhearing his mother gossiping in the kitchen about the neighbors.

“Alice has gained so much weight. She’s just gotten married too! Couldn’t imagine already letting myself go like that.”

Letting himself go.

That’s what it was. He didn’t want you- or anyone to think that he had ‘let himself go.’ That it was no longer important to him if you had found him attractive. That the two of you had been married for a little over a year so he could just give up. He shook himself out of his thoughts again.

•••••••••

He couldn’t even get through the door by the time you were on him.

“Welcome Home.” You smiled, pressing kisses to anywhere you could reach. He chuckled, leaning into you. He placed one arm under your bottom lifting you up to him. He dropped his duffle bag at the door kicking the door closed behind him.

“I missed you.” He murmured kissing you back just as desperate. He plopped down on the couch, settling you tightly in his lap. All was right in the world till your hands started to wander.

“You get hurt again?” You questioned after he flinched. Your hands went to pull up his shirt to inspect the damage. He stopped you. “John?” You questioned softly. He tangled his hands with yours.

“You know I have a tendency to be a bit old fashioned.” He started. You pressed your brows together.

“John I’ve seen you naked before.”

“No, love.” He chuckled. “I’ve gained a bit of weight and back in my day that was more scandalous than adultery”-

“You know I don’t care about that.” You interjected.

“I know, that’s what makes this whole thing ridiculous. It’s just something I’ve found out about myself, something that I need to work through.” He sighed, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“Does this mean I can’t touch you?” You mumbled, fiddling with his shirt collar. He quickly shook his head.

“Course not.” He whispered.

“Johnny, you’re being too loud.”

That sentence had been replaying in his head like a broken record. You didn’t mean anything by it. You were just keeping him in check. Yet he could feel your embarrassment. The heat rising to your cheeks. The panic in your voice. The way you gave total strangers an apologetic smile when they turned your way. He had always been a naturally loud talker. Growing up with five siblings in a small two bedroom apartment was to thank for that. The fact that he had been around explosives for the past eight years didn’t help either.

“Johnny?” You tapped his arm. His eyes fled from the small paper bowl of ice cream to you. “You okay? You’ve been so quiet since we’ve left the restaurant.”

He couldn’t stop a dry chuckle. He grabbed the small bowl, shoving a spoonful in his mouth.

“ ‘m fine.” He mumbled. You sighed leaning across the table gripping his hand with yours.

“Jo.” You pressed again, flashing him your undeniable puppy eyes. He gave your hand a small squeeze.

“Sorry for the way I was at the restaurant.” He grumbled.

“What?” You asked, leaning forward again.

“I said, I’m sorry for the way I was at the restaurant.” He repeated. Your brows furrowed. Suddenly it hit you. Your hand left his and clamped over your mouth.

“No, no, no, Johnny.” You said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. Well I did- but”- You cut yourself off. You rubbed your forehead. Your hands reached out again tangling yours and his together. “I’m sorry I made you feel bad. That wasn’t my intention. I just know you sometimes forget your own volume.”

He gave you a small smile, pressing a kiss to your knuckle.

“I know Bonnie. I just don’t like embarrassing you.”

“We’re just so different in that way Jo. My parents were so strict about how loud I was- especially in public. It’s just a stupid habit I have, but I should never expect you to follow it.” You smiled softly. He smiled back at you, the sparkle returning to his blue eyes.

“I should still work on it though. Don’t want to blow your eardrums out, then we’ll both be shouty.” He chuckled.

“You hate it when I do this don’t you?” You hummed.

“I’m still not use to it.” He sighed, using his thumb to run small circles against your hip. He shivered as your fingers traced over another long stretch mark on his back. He mumbled something and pulled you closer, your body almost completely buried underneath his.

It was no secret Konig was tall. Along with that height came stretch marks. Mostly on his lower back and calves, some even under his arms. Some had faded, a small ridge in his skin to show they were still there. Others were a deeper pink- more noticeable.

“Everybody has them Konnie.” You mumbled, pressing a kiss under his jaw.

“I know.” He purred out as you massaged a small kink out of his back. Truth be told he didn’t really care about them either- until the locker room. That’s when he noticed how excessive his seemed. He had carried that feeling for a while, it wasn’t until he met you did he become more comfortable with it. You had showed him your stretch marks and he saw how pretty they looked on you. He slowly began to figure out that if he thought they looked nice on you, then you probably felt the same way about his. He still tenses when you touch them, his eyes darting to yours for any sign of insincerity. He’s always met with love and want. Just the thought of it causes a flutter in his stomach.

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b00kdiary · 5 months

Text

Euphoria | Ithan Holstrom

Ithan Holstrom x Plus Size Reader

Where Y/N finds herself needing to be reminded just how desirable she is, and Ithan Holstrom is more than willing to show her. Here's to all my thick, fat, plus-size girlies who want some SJM men love too xo

Warnings: mature themes (18 +) swearing, body-image issues, eventual smut and the Ithan being utterly infatuated with his thick, beautiful lady.

MASTERLIST

I stared, unblinking, as Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae, kissed his way down the neck of a gorgeous and dark-skinned Faun. I trailed my gaze along as he sucked and bit gently against her soft skin and perfect bone structure, the Faun's eyes closed, her face a mirror of lust and bliss.

The grip I had on my glass tightened and I willed myself not the shatter it, to not draw attention to myself, to how jealous and seething I was.

The fluorescent lights inside the White Raven danced over the two of them, highlighting their ungodly beauty as they danced and rocked against each other to the beat of music. My chest tightened at the way Ruhn's arms wrapped so effortlessly around her slim waist, resting against the perfectly flat length of her stomach, revealed by her cropped bralette.

She was lovely by most standards and typical of the kind of females Ruhn was seen with- tall with small breasts and a small, yet nice ass and petite enough that there wasn't a single place that sat out or rubbed or curved too much.

Unlike me.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat, taking a long indulgent sip of my drink to drive away the dryness and the sorrow. It was hard not to trail my mind into those uncharted, dark waters, the kind of scary, hollow place of insecurity where I could pick myself apart and rip any sense of security I had to pieces.

Because unlike that Faun, who had turned now, her toned back facing me as Ruhn kissed her, kissed her with so much passion and need that it made me feel sick. Unlike her, I was not petite or skinny and I did not look like the kind of girl that Ruhn Danaan desired.

"You're glaring, Y/N." A deep voice interrupted my pity party and snapped me back into this room, away from all the meanest, cruellest thoughts I had of myself.

I turned, levelling out my eyes and surprise-filled me when I met with honey-brown eyes and a smile that could melt a girl's heart and drop her panties.

My lip kicked up as I took in the golden-brown soft waves of hair and tan sun-kissed skin, my gaze moved down, over the acres of strong, corded muscle that was further accentuated by the form-fitting t-shirt he wore.

"Ithan Holstrom," I mused, cocking my head at him, and seeing his lip tilt into a lazy smile "You're the last person I expected to see here, I didn't think this was your kind of scene."

"It's not, not really but," He shrugged, glancing over his broad shoulder to where a few wolves sat gathered around a table "But the pack forced me."

"You don't strike me as the type of guy who can be forced to do anything," I raised a brow, tossing a long strand of hair over my shoulder and felt Ithan's eyes track each movement. "Don't try and hide it, you came here for a good time, a good fuck maybe?"

He chuckled at my playful words, the sound rough and heady, running over me and prickling my skin. I forced myself to breathe as he stepped closer, close enough that his hard chest brushed against my breasts, and I felt the warmth and scent of him.

"Is that what you came for?" He asked, though his words weren't a question, not as he looked over my head, his stare pointed, straight to where Ruhn and that Faun stood "Or were you planning to glare at Ruhn Danaan all night, hoping he'd notice you?"

"Don't be a prick," I scowled, my lip curling and I pushed at his chest, hearing a rough bark of laughter escape him as he saw the fire burning in my eyes " I might be pining after Ruhn, but it's no different to how you trailed after Bryce like a lost puppy all these years, Holstrom."

His eyes darkened at that- those honeyed pupils shadowing into a starless night sky. Bryce was a sore topic still, even after two years and I felt guilt gnaw at me, hating myself for mentioning her, for the way that smile tilted down now.

"Bryce didn't want me, I knew she didn't," Ithan gritted back, his jaw locked and his eyes hard "Ruhn might want you, he could want you as badly as you want him, you're just too scared to find out."

"I'm not scared," I said defensively, crossing my arms over my chest, and yet again, I didn't miss how his steely gaze fell, something sparking in them as my top lowered and revealed my ample cleavage. I clear my throat, ignoring the twist in my gut "I'm just realistic, I know Ruhn's type, I've seen his type and I know I'm not it."

"His type?" Ithan mused, raising a dark, thick brow at me "What? Gorgeous? Desirable? No, you're definitely not his type." It was sarcastically drawled, accompanied by a sassy eye roll and it was the least serious I had seen Ithan in years- since Connor died.

"Try petite, skinny and perfect," I snort, but my voice isn't as joking as I would like, it's heavier, weighed down by the reality of the words.

"Bullshit, Y/N," Ithan scowls, and the way his eyes glared out in protest, in defence, it was as if he was furious at me for even saying what I did. "If Ruhn fucking Danaan thinks you're not perfect then he's a bigger asshole than I already thought he was."

I felt my face heat, my body turning hot and needy at his words, at the honesty and conviction behind them. He stepped closer, close enough that I smelt the mint and alcohol on his warm breath, and a fire sparked in my core- and I didn't step back.

"You think I'm perfect?" I whispered, my voice hoarse and shaking slightly. I couldn't stop staring into his eyes, couldn't stop watching the lust roil in them, darkening them by each second, we inched closer, drawn together like magnets. "Don't fuck with me Ithan, I mean it."

"Y/N, while you were busy glaring down Danaan and the Faun," Ithan said, his voice slipping into a low timbre, the gruffness clawing over my nerves and making me breathless "I was staring at you."

"You were?" My voice was softer than I wanted it to be, but my defences were wearing down. I had always found Ithan attractive, always wondered what he would be like as more than a friend. And as his hand snaked around my waist, large, veined, and ringed, and slowly dragged me to him, I knew that those feelings hadn't faded with time.

"You might not believe me, but I was staring at you, alongside damn near every other male in this room, Y/N," Ithan muttered, his face inches from mine and when his nose brushed against my cheek, my eyes fluttered. "If you had just looked around you, you would have seen how many wanted you- and how could they not?"

I felt his hand trail down my back and sides, over the rolls and curves of flesh, and I felt nauseous, hating that he could feel it. But he growled, a purely animal sound, his fingers digging into my flesh as if he was holding himself back as if touching me brought him to the edge of his control.

"Ithan," I swallowed, steeling my spine, and forcing back the fierceness and power I was used to wielding with men, "I'm not Bryce Quinlan."

"And I'm not Ruhn Danaan," He shot back immediately, his lip quirking "But that doesn't change the fact that I fucking want you, and I know you want me too."

I inhaled a shaky, long breath, my throat drying out at his words and at all the sinful, dirty images that flashed through my mind, filthy enough that I had to clench my thighs shut.

"Let's walk to yours, no cab," I say hoarsely, ignoring the way he grinned as I grabbed his hand and began dragging him to the exit. He followed dutifully, his fingers interlocking with mine, his thumb brushing soothing, soft strokes against my palm.

"Why?" He laughed, his brow raising at me as I glanced over my shoulder and I didn't miss the way my body ignited, striking, and burning as his gaze trailed over my skin.

"Because I can't promise I won't ride you in the back seat," I said honestly, gnawing on my lip as my eyes met his over my shoulder "And I don't want the night to end before it's even begun."

"Fuck," Ithan swore, low and dirty, and I could smell his arousal.

Just like I knew he could smell mine.

***

We walked through The Wolves Den with ease, silent and quick-paced as we waded through each corridor and climbed floor after floor.

Ithan had wanted to take the lift straight to his floor and had been so on edge that he looked as if he might have taken me against the wall in the goddamn lobby if I had given him the say-so. But I wanted him at breaking point, wanted that wolf inside him to come out clawing, biting and roaring.

So instead, we walked, each second that passed and the silence that stretched drawing the tension tauter and tauter, and I could feel my blood thrum in anticipation. Ithan looked over at me as we walked down the final corridor- and the smirk he wore, the knowing gleam in his eyes, told me everything he wanted to do.

"You have got to be kidding me, Ithan," A voice declared, female and high-pitched, loud enough that it grated against my senses and had both of us coming to a reluctant halt. I eyed the fifth door, which happened to be Ithan's room, with need. "Bringing the trash home?"

"Watch it, Amelie," Ithan growled, his eyes tapering in warning as he turned to glare at the dark-haired, golden-eyed female before him. His pack member- and a total hateful bitch.

"Why? Scared I'll scare away your whore for the night?" She snorted, her arms folding over her chest as she looked at me, amusement and cruelty gleaming in her eyes. I saw her stare trail between us, taking in our interlocked hands, the way our arousals wafted in the air, and she scowled.

Jealous, that much was obvious.

"Hey, Ithan?" I mused, glancing sideways at him, and smiling sweetly. He rose a brow at me, confused and half-amused. "Are the walls here thin?" I stared pointedly, past Amelie, to the open door at her side, number four- right next to Ithan's.

Ithan seemed to catch onto my thought trail and chuckled lowly, nodding his head "Very thin."

"Amelie," I smirked, my hand trailing up Ithan's muscled chest as he punched in the code and pushed open his room door, "When you touch yourself tonight, imagining that Ithan's fucking you and not me, don't be too loud- Ithan might hear it and go limp."

"You fucking-" Her eyes burned, and so did her cheeks, outrage and embarrassment filling her as she stepped toward me.

"Have a good night, I know I will." I winked and Ithan's laughter flittered over to me, caressing my skin like a phantom touch. The door clicked shut behind me, and suddenly, Amelie was gone, and it was just me and him, in his room, together, and alone.

"I don't think I've ever seen Amelie that red before, she's not used to being put in her place like that," Ithan noted, his eyes dancing with amusement as he leaned against the back of his sofa "She's not going to let that go, you know?"

"Amelie's a neurotic, insecure bitch," I scowl, walking a few tentative steps further into his room, "She can get fucked, I couldn't care less."

Ithan doesn't say anything else, remaining silent as my gaze lifts and washes over his room. I take in the four bare walls and the simple brown sofa, glass table and TV, a large double bed at the furthest wall and a chest of drawers and a matching wardrobe at its side.

"Not what you were expecting?" Ithan asked, cocking his head to the side as he observed my expression. I pursed my lips, looking over his folded arms, the way the muscles bulged, and I swallowed.

"I'm not sure what I expected," I say honestly, my voice quiet and when I slowly began to walk over to Ithan, I felt the tension in the air go taut. I paused, standing just before where he sat on the sofa's back, looking at me with a wry smile. "Were you being honest when you said that the walls are thin?"

"I was," He chuckled, revealing two sharp canines on either side of his upper teeth and I shivered at the sight of them. I imagined them against my skin, teasing, scrapping, and biting and I clenched my hands. "Were you being honest when you said you would be having a good night?"

I smiled at the heat in his eyes, at the way we were so close, yet we didn't touch not in one single place, and I knew he was holding out, restraining himself from grabbing on to me, just as I was.

"I plan to have a good night," I say, cocking my head in challenge "But really, it's up to you how good of a night for me it is."

One second, I'm standing before Ithan, smirking, cocky as I watch the lust burning in his eyes, and then the next, his fingers are wrapping around my throat, his ring digging into my jugular as he pulls me to him.

I groan as his mouth collides with mine and my body shakes at the heady, desperate way his lips move against me, tasting me, devouring me, taking me like it's his last night on Midgard. I melted into the strength and solidity of him, his hand at my throat, the firm pressure there, making my body turn weak.

Ithan's lips move against me, deep, languished strokes that fan the embers sparking in my stomach and I dig my nails into his chest, curling my fingers around the fabric of his t-shirt, needing to tether myself to him, to keep myself upright.

I whimper at the feeling of his left hand descending my body, his fingers gripping against every bit of flesh and curve with need, all the way from the top of my spine to the curve of my ass, and he groans as he cups me, the flesh spilling out and soft against his palm.

“Bed, now,” I pull back, my faces only inches from his and we’re both panting wildly, lust and need dancing in our gazes, like a mirror.

“Hm, not sure I’m a fan of being told what to do in my own place, sweetheart,” Ithan smirks, and my eyes flutter as he draws me closer, biting and suckling against my neck, the feeling of his canines against my skin driving me crazy. “Why don’t you try again?”

“Stop trying to be an alpha male, Ithan,” I manage to grit out, desperately trying to force down the moans that threaten to slip past my lips, but his mouth and tongue against my hot skin make it so hard. “We both know you’re really just a puppy- ah-“

A squeal escapes me as both of Ithan’s arms wrap around me, hooking under my ass and there’s a whoosh of air as he yanks me up into his arms, so fast my heart lurches and I’m locking my legs around his waist and holding onto his t-shirt so tightly I’m surprised it didn’t tear.

“You’re far too coherent right now,” Ithan grumbles and fuck if the sound of it doesn’t go straight between my legs. I hold onto him tighter as he begins to carry me over to bed, looking as if my weight is less than nothing to him right now. “I’m going to need to fix that.”

“Please do,” I whisper, tossing my hair from my face and bringing my lips back against his, slower, deeper, the hardness and ridges of his body brushing against my breasts feeling so good and the long, thick length rubbing against my thigh feels even better.

Ithan smirks against my lips as we thump against the bed and true to his word, Ithan drops me on the bed, so hard and fast I grunt at the impact, my body and tits bouncing as I land on my ass. The sight makes him smile, and the way he towers over me, looking like some kind of God has every nerve in my burning.

“You’re fucking incredible,” He mutters, and the honey in his eyes is gone, melted into the darkest chocolate, the kind that told me every filthy, heady, dirty thing he wanted to do to me. I leaned back on my palms as he rested a knee on the mattress, lowering his pleased face down to mine. “But I bet you’d look even better without all the clothes.”

His hand snakes around to the zip at the back of my top and fuck, fuck, fuck- I freeze.

“Or not?” He mutters, a crease forming between his brows at the way my body physically locks up and his hand immediately stops, resting flat against my back, his thumb rubbing softly to soothe me. “We don’t have to do that if you don’t want-“

“No, no-“ I shake my head, clearing my throat as I bring a hand to cup his jaw, loving the way he melts into the touch, “It was just a habit, a muscle memory reaction- No, trust me, I want to, I want you, Ithan.”

“Good, because I want you too, Y/N,” He mutters, smiling as he brings his mouth down, but he doesn’t pull at the zipper, instead he kisses me, tastes me, and enjoys me, and my hands curl into the root of his hair, glad for that moment of reprieve.

I can tell he’s being sweet because he is sweet, and now that he knows I’m hesitating, he won’t make the next move until he’s sure I’m ready- and I am, I am so fucking ready.

I pull back from him, my eyes locking with his and the room is so silent, deadly silent, as I draw my hand back and ever so slowly tug down the zipper to my top. The sound is almost sensual, making Ithan’s face darken, in anticipation, in feral lust.

I gnaw on my lip as the zipper pulls free and still keeping my eyes on his, I draw the top forward, down my arms, every movement deliberate until the fabric is discarded on the floor beside us. Ithan says nothing as he stares down at me, as he stares down at my bare chest, my breasts heavy and aching and I’ve never been gladder that I chose not to wear a bra.

His Adam’s apple bobs and the breath seizes in my lungs as his cold hand traces across my back, around to my chest and he groans, low and deep, the second his hand cups around my breast. I gasp as he kneads the flesh, his fingers slowly and deliberately tugging on my pebbled nipple.

“Ithan,” I growl, I can’t help it, he’s staring at me, looking like he wants to devour me, but he hasn’t bloody moved. “Do something, for Cthona’s sake.”

“So needy,” He croons, and I nearly sigh when he leans forward again and pushes me back to lay flat against the mattress. My body shivered as he climbed onto the bed, his large figure moving to hover over me, and I felt almost small in comparison to him, a feeling that was unfamiliar to me.

He kissed lower down my neck, his mouth inching closer as his hand kneaded my breast, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers and tugging gently igniting so many sparks that I couldn't even speak, merely moaning breathlessly with each sure touch.

I gasped when his head ducked, his eyes shielded by the strands of hair that fell forward as he plucked one nipple into his mouth. My back arched and my fingers dug into his shoulders hard enough to hurt as the raw feeling of his tongue and teeth teased me.

“Ithan,” I moaned when he began biting against my nipple, not too hard, but firm enough that I felt the shock go through every nerve ending, sparking, burning, and throbbing, so hard I felt it in my core.

My head spins as Ithan begins shifting lower, and I cringe when he begins trailing his hands down my stomach, instantly thinking over every roll and stretch mark and flesh that was there- not that he seemed to mind. No, he kissed against the skin, trailing his tongue languidly down, just as infatuated as he had been before.

The tension in the air is thick as Ithan runs his calloused hands down the side of my thick thighs, kneading the flesh and teasing the material of my skirt, his intentions obvious. And with the ache beginning to become unbearable between my legs, I don’t hesitate to lift my hips, glad when he immediately hooks his fingers into the top of my skirt- pulling it and my underwear down in one go.

It’s almost amusing how quickly he discards the excess material over his shoulder, so transfixed on the sight of my naked body before him, sprawled out and burning from the intensity of his gaze.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” He groans, his voice hoarse and the tightness coiling in my chest eases as he runs his hand up my thighs, feeling the cellulite and stretch marks and grins as he spread my legs apart for him to come between.

My heart races in anticipation as he sinks down below my parted thighs, his eyes burning with satisfaction as he comes level to my core, and the urge to clamp my legs shut fills me- which he seems to sense, if his strong grip on either side of my thigh, keeping spread wide apart is any indication.

I feel his hot breath against my most sensitive part and just when I feel like the seconds are dragging into minutes, making me fidgety and restless, I gasp at the feeling of his tongue flicking against my clit, soft and probing, coaxing out quiet moans from me.

“That’s it,” Ithan purrs and the sound vibrates against my core, making me clench my fingers into the duvet under me for purchase. Ithan seems encouraged by my moans, his tongue lapping against my clit in long languish strokes that draw pleasure from me in waves. “Taste so fucking good.”

He grins against me, cocky, sure, and under any other circumstances I’d hate it, but right now, I can’t find it in me. Instead, I reach down, lacing my fingers through his soft hair, tugging, yanking, and scratching, coaxing Ithan to give me more- which he happily does.

“Fuck, oh my-“ Two fingers prod my wet entrance, and the sound is so lewd as he quickly stuffs the two digits inside me, stretching me in the most perfect yet painful way, especially when he curls those two digits, hitting a spot that has me seeing stars.

“There we go,” Ithan coaxes softly, feeling my body start to vibrate and writhe, that pool of pleasure building and building within me, plummeting fast and harder as he fucks his fingers in and out steadily, in tandem with the smooth agile movement of his tongue against my clit. “There we go, such a good girl.”

I cry out, trembling and moaning as a white-hot blaze burns through me, starting at my core and running into my thighs and stomach, all the way down to my toes. I pant, my head fogging with the overwhelming blanket of pleasure that Ithan’s smothered me with.

Ithan groans, his teeth tugging at my sore clit before he eventually lets go, his fingers slipping out of me with ease. I exhale harshly at the loss of contact, sagging back as the euphoria dies down and my body settles into calm again.

Ithan ascends my body, a shit-eating grin on his wet lips and I don’t have time to even speak before he captures my mouth in his, pushing his tongue deep into me, letting me taste myself.

“How’s that for a puppy, sweetheart?” He mutters, biting my bottom lip and I roll my eyes at the sheer masculine satisfaction in his voice, in those bright eyes as he stares at me.

“Don’t be an arrogant prick,” I snipe back, ignoring Ithan’s laughter as I place either hand on his shoulder and the surprise that lights his face as I yank him down onto the bed beside me, flipping us so that I’m straddling him, makes me grin. “I’m still in charge, Ithan.”

“If this is you being in charge, I’m not fucking complaining,” He smirks lazily, his voice heavy with lust as he leans back, his eyes oh so slowly trailing across my body atop his, looking like the cat that got the cream as he enjoys every inch of me.

I smile, soft, as I run my hands against the seam of his t-shirt, my thumbs hooking under the material and slowly dragging it up- revealing inch after inch of tan, smooth skin, so much corded muscle it makes me hot. Ithan easily helps, and it’s not long before the material is over his head and thrown to the ever-growing pile of clothes on his floor.

I drag my core against the front seam of Ithan’s jeans, and our groans mix in the air at the feeling of his hard length brushing against me. I don’t waste any time, Ithan’s eyes never leaving me as I move my hands to the front of his jeans, my fingers fumbling against the button and zipper, almost desperate as I open them, tugging the materials down just a little.

“Shit,” I mutter, my eyes widening as Ithan’s hard cock slips out, breaking free and slapping back against his stomach. Ithan snorts at my reaction, at the sheer surprise on my face at the size of him, and my cheeks heat in embarrassment as he smiles at me. “Shut up.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” His eyes flutter as I grip my hand around his hard length, my fingers struggling to find purchase as I palm up and down, every moan and gasp that escapes him egging me on. “You’re fucking killing me here, sweetheart.”

“Poor puppy,” I tease, smirking and Ithan’s canines expose in warning, his hands coming to either side of my hips, and when he slowly lifts me up, dragging me closer to him, I prepare myself for the feeling of him inside me.

“Shit, shit,” I moan as Ithan’s cock brushes my entrance and I ever so slowly sink down, down, down, until he’s stretching me like he’s going to break me in two, until his tip brushes something far and deep inside me.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Ithan swears, his fingers digging into the flesh of my hips and thighs so tightly, I can feel the cut of his nails.

I flutter my eyes as the burn soon seeps into pleasure and we both suck in a gasp of air when I drag up, so deliberate and slow, all the way to the tip, before slamming back down, hard and fast. Ithan swears, his chest rising and falling so fast as I do it again and again, his cock slipping against my wet core like it was made for me.

“Ithan, oh-“ I whimper as I ride up and down his cock, alternating between fast, hard strokes and long, slow ones, Ithan’s hands at my hips guiding me along, helping me chase after the relief, and I know I won’t last long, not with the cord within me tightening so perfectly.

“Look at you riding my cock so well,” Ithan praises roughly, his teeth gritted as he pants and moans every time he sinks into me, and when my eyes lock with his, I’ve never felt more seen, more desired in my life. “Look at those tits bouncing, fuck, taking me so good Y/N.”

He ruts his hips up to meet me, the sound of him fucking in and out of me, so wild and demanding, is like music in the room, mixing with our moans, our low curses, and the way our hands wander over each other, unable to get enough.

My fingers scratch against Ithan’s chest and abs, my body starting to shake and weaken at how good it feels, how he’s hitting against a spot that makes my insides turn to mush, again and again. Ithan must sense my fatigue, sense my head spinning, because he grabs me, and within seconds, we’ve flipped over and he’s on top of me now.

His hand guides my thighs around his hips and my eyes roll, my back arches, as he sinks in even deeper and I whimper into his lips, into his mouth at the brutal pace he sets, slamming into me again and again, unrelenting, and merciless, so fucking good I can’t catch my breath.

My eyes flutter open as Ithan’s hand wraps around my throat, pressing firmly on either side of my neck and when my eyes meet his when I see the burning, commanding, domineering power behind them, it’s like something in me rips in two.

He hits a spot, some magic, fathomless spot inside me and it all shatters to pieces like glass.

“Ithan, I’m-“ I cry out, black dots blurring my vision and my body bucking and writhing against his hard muscles as release ripples over me like a tidal wave. Ithan grunts as I clench around him, suffocating his cock inside me, the orgasm hitting me and lasting longer than I’ve ever had.

“That’s it, that’s fucking it,” Ithan whispers, panting against my lips, and I feel his movements become sloppier, more erratic, more careless, driven to the edge by me coming around him. “Everyone in the whole fucking Dens gonna know whose making you feel this good.”

I whimper at the filthy words he grunts into my ear, my body trembling with the aftermath of my orgasm, edged on by the way Ithan still fucked in and out of me, chasing his own high and when his forehead rests against mine and he groans, guttural and heady and low, I know he’s found it.

The sound he makes, the growl that escapes him, reverberates through the whole damn room and my body is aching as he comes to a gradual stop inside me, our sweaty, panting bodies, melting into each other as we climb down from our peaks.

Ithan groans as he slowly slips out of me, the feeling of his warm cum leaking from me and dripping down my skin making me blush, and the small smirk that lines his lips as he inches back to look at me tells me he finds it both amusing and adorable.

“I can feel your cum leaking down my thigh,” I breathe and Ithan's eyes flutter, rolling as he laughs, burying his face into my neck dramatically, as if I were completely ruining him.

“Keep saying shit like that, Y/N and I might just have to chain you to this bed,” Ithan mutters against my skin, kissing and nibbling across my neck and jaw before he meets my lips again, kissing me sweetly as if memorising the taste and feel of me.

“After that, I’m tempted to let you, Ithan,” I grin, sighing as he rests his weight on top of me, his arms on either side making sure not to crush me, but the warmth and touch is welcome.

“Are you still thinking about Ruhn Danaan?” He muses, cocking his head, and the honey has returned back to his eyes, that smile turning boyish and soft again as he stares down at me.

“No,” I say simply, honestly, dragging my hand up his chest and neck, before settling against his jaw, my thumb drawing lines across the hard ridge there. “Are you still thinking about Bryce Quinlan?”

“Definitely not,” He smiles, earnest and firm and the sight makes my entire body heat again.

“Good,” I let my eyes darken, letting him see just what I was thinking as I wrap a leg around his hip, drawing his hardening cock back down against me- and he grins with feral delight at the action. “Because I haven’t quite gotten you out of my system yet, Puppy.”

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

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

#sarah j maas #sjm books #crescent city #crescent city smut #ithan holstrom #ithan holstrom x reader #ithan holstrom smut #ithan holstrom x plus size reader #smut #plus size reader #plus size smut #plus size y/n #acotar #tog fanfic

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leo-muscle · 3 months

Note

I’ve heard a little bit about this King Leon guy. Who does he think he is to call himself a king? Seems far to pretentious if you ask me. I wouldn’t be caught dead bowing to someone like that. Not in a million years.

Sure I’m the most basic looking white dude on the planet. My face gets lost in the crowd and my body is light enough to be blown by a breeze. But a king can’t change that, and I would like to see him or any of his subjects try to.

"Are you sure about that?" The bartender told you. You had just arrived on your vacation in Haiti, and the resort's bartender had decided to strike up a conversation with you over drinks. He was enormous, seven feet of pure surfer boy muscle, with a thick gut that was the very picture of strength. He would have been the most beautiful man you had ever seen, if you weren't in the middle of a massive rant.

"Oh, absolutely." You continued. "Whoever these 'kings' are, I don't want anything to do with 'em. Who are they to declare rule over the entire world, and who are we to listen to them?"

It was true, of course. Much of Africa, the British Isles, Central America, and even the islands you were now in had been united under the rule of these Kings. While many praised them for their novel social reforms and exponential increase to quality of life in their domains, many others, yourself included, remained attached to the old ways. Even this vacation was a scouting trip, to see if whatever propaganda these Kings were putting out was true.

"On the contrary, my friend, I am perfectly happy to listen to the rule of my King. You should have seen this island before King Kai came here. Homelessness, poverty... it's all been amended since he arrived."

"Really?" You asked, taking a big swig of your drink, savoring its tingle on your lips. "And NO one's uncomfortable being ruled by just one person?"

"People love King Kai. He is kind and just, like any good king should be. You'll see that soon enough." The bartender said.

"What do you mean by that?" You asked, your heart racing.

"Oh, nothing much. Just give it a few seconds."

"What are you-- UGH!" You doubled over, your skin on fire with a sensation entirely alien to you.

The bartender walked out from behind the bar, and soon, his magical hands went to work. With his kingly essence in your system, you could be molded into a respectable citizen of the world.

He started with your pecs, cupping them from behind as they burst through your tropical shirt with new strength. They were enormous, voluptuous pillows, jiggling with muscle and a thin layer of fat.

He then moved his hands along your shoulders, pumping them into cannonballs of strength. The moment his hands reached your arms, they pulled and pushed, leaving your twiggy biceps and forearms as but a fleeting memory, replacing them with pulsing, powerful cannons of strength. In awe, you flexed your right arm, forming a mound easily as big as a baseball if not more.

You moaned softly as King Kai's beautiful hands lightly traced a six-pack onto your stomach, each ab popping into existence, forming an impenetrable wall of strength.

Soon, his hands navigated south, one massive hand palming your flat ass, while the other grabbed your tiny three-inch cock. You moaned, long, low, and hard as both of his hands began to move out from your body, pulling your cock and ass with them. Your cheeks rounded out into a big, bouncy bubble butt, bigger than most women's. It shook with strength and sexuality with every slight movement you made, much like your cock, which had grown so big with the King's touch that no pair of pants could conceal your enormous bulge. His touch was electric on your shaft, causing you to pre almost endlessly.

Your mind was in heaven as he continued to your legs. Your cock was at full mast at its enormous eleven inches as he took his hands to your legs, and blew them up into corded steel pillars as big as any christmas ham. You moaned, your cock firing blanks as he looked you deep into your eyes, placing one hand to completely cover your currently-unchanged face.

"As much as I love my people, we cannot be a global community if all my citizens are homogenous." King Kai said. "Hmm, where should I send you..."

Your skin flickered through thousands of shades in a single moment, before settling on a tone a few shades darker than your original. Your hair darkened to black, and you instantly sprouted a thick dark mustache, and a chinstrap beard to match. Your eyes became narrower and monolid, your stare intensifying into a sexy smolder. As King Kai leaned in and kissed you, your bulk increased, and your muscle became padded with a thin sexy layer of fat.

"Cum." King Kai commanded you, his voice sexy enough to send you over the edge.

You had been reborn, a Vietnamese stud in the Carribean. Your brain was aflame with new neurons, making connections faster and better than ever before. You knew you had been improved, in every conceivable way. You were stronger, smarter, wiser, and you had no one but your new king to thank.

#male tf #male transformation #race change #muscle bear #bear tf #jock tf #pec growth #butt growth #asian tf #mental change #kings of the world

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oftenwantedafton · 4 months

Text

A New Afton - Stepfather Steve Raglan/William Afton x Stepdaughter Reader

Chapter 6

Rating - Explicit

Warnings for sexual content, daddy kink, praise kink, plushophilia

Also available on AO3

taglist @yellowbunnydreams

William Afton pretending to be Steve Raglan looks at the phone number scrawled on the slip of paper in front of him on the desk blotter and sighs.

It’s the number for the place where his wife is staying.

There’s a framed picture on the desk of himself and his bride and her daughter. He stares at your face when he dials the number.

It takes someone a minute to answer, another few to locate your mother. Steve glances at the clock. His lunch break is rapidly disappearing. He always spends it in his office unless his spouse forces him to be social.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Steve! I tried calling you last night.”

“Really? Sorry I missed your call. I went out to get something for dinner.”

“You’re not doing takeout every night, are you?”

“No, not at all. Just haven’t made the effort to do shopping for the week yet. I’ll take care of that this weekend. Tell me how your trip is going.”

He winds the phone cord around his index finger and half listens to your mother babble. He’s thinking about you kneeling in front of him in the office at the pizzeria. Holding you on the couch. Falling asleep with you in his arms. Waking up the same way, too.

“Steve? Are you there?”

“Yes. Sorry the connection isn’t great. These phones, you know.”

“I asked how things are going with you and my daughter.”

“Oh, fine. We’re getting along fine. You don’t need to worry.” She absolutely should be worried.

“Well, I miss you.”

“Yeah, we miss you too.” He doesn’t. Not even remotely. He wishes he could cut your mother right out of that picture on the desk. Cut her right out of his life. End the charade and just keep you all to himself. He can handle the home life doldrums with you there. They don’t bother him like they used to when it’s just the two of you.

He finds himself enjoying taking care of you.

��I’ll call you on Saturday afternoon.”

“Okay sounds good. Have fun. Take care.”

“I lo—”

He hangs up the phone. Leans back in his chair and sighs, pulling off his glasses and scrubbing a hand over his face. Glances at the clock again and lifts the phone back off the hook and dials a four digit extension number.

“Is my next client here yet? Yeah, no, I know it’s fifteen minutes early. Go ahead and send them in.”

***

You’re sitting on your bed with your legs folded, still wearing your school uniform, a notebook in your lap and a textbook on the bed.

It’s getting late.

Well past time when your stepfather should be home.

You’ve already tried calling the office. No answer. You can only assume he’s left for the day. So where was he?

It’s difficult to concentrate on something as mundane as quadratic equations when the memories of the previous night keep flooding your mind. The previous three nights. Strange to think it’s only been three. Such a scant amount.

You lift your pencil and set it back down, looking at the clock again. What if something bad had happened? Steve should have been back at least two hours ago.

Your bedroom is at the back of the house so you don’t hear the car when it pulls into the driveway. You think you hear the front door open and close and you sigh in relief. He’s home. He’s okay.

You hear his even tread up the carpeted stairs. Your cracked door is pushed open the remainder of the way. Steve leans, letting his upper arm and shoulder gently strike the door frame to rest against it.

“Hey, baby girl.”

“I was worried. You’re late.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Work got a little crazy. And then I picked us up groceries. Enough to get us through the weekend. We can deal with next week when it gets here.”

He looks a little tired, you think. Almost…you’re not sure. You’ve never seen your stepfather wear this look before. A sort of melancholy.

“You doing your homework?” He pushes off the door frame and walks over to stand next to the bed. You nod. “That’s my good girl.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, Princess. Just a little tired.” He begins to gently comb his fingers through your hair as you tip your head to look up at him.

“I was really worried.”

“I’m sorry. I should have called.”

“I missed you, Daddy.”

“Yeah. I missed you too.” He bends to kiss your mouth. You grab his tie, unfolding your legs, the notebook tumbling out of your lap as you struggle to kneel on the mattress’ springy surface, trying to get closer to him. He drags the comforter off the bed and your school things are dumped to the floor. “I miss the taste of you in my mouth,” he pants, climbing onto the bed with you. It’s a twin, three sizes smaller than the king one in the master bedroom. “Let me have you, sweet girl.” He pulls until you’re lying supine beneath him. Lifts your skirt and kisses you through your panties. He gently bites on the material at the crotch and pulls it into his mouth, sucking on it, moaning against you.

Your body had begun responding to his presence the instant he had appeared. You’re conditioned for this now; trained for it. Your entrance waters in anticipation for your stepfather’s sinful kisses.

Steve shoves the material impatiently to one side, holding it with his thumb and licks. You moan and arch against him, burying a hand in his graying hair. His glasses have gotten lost in the shuffle somewhere.

“My God, you’re wet baby girl,” he observes. He flicks his tongue against your clit and you feel a finger ease inside of you.

You hiss in pleasure. This is what you want. What you need. A second figure begins to be added. This is new but your body is eager to accommodate. Stretching. So much fluid leaking from you. His saliva now adding to the slick of your arousal.

“Yes, Daddy. It feels so good…”

Suction on your fuck button as he finishes violating you with the pair of digits. He’s in. Your hips gyrate. It’s a natural response, the way evolution assured that the species would propagate. Your body knows what it’s made for.

“Fuck me, Daddy. I need you to fuck me.” You like the fingers but you want his cock. You’re not afraid anymore. You want him buried inside you, crushing you from above on the outside.

“Soon, baby girl,” he murmurs, mouth pulling off your clit with a soft pop. “I’m going to fuck you so hard. Fill you up every night when I get home. Send you to school every day with another load still dripping out of you.” He wrenches the panties further to one side and buries his face in your pussy. Withdraws the fingers and thrusts his tongue in, alternating between them. Lets his fingers curl around the crotch of the fabric he’s holding so his freed thumb can press your nub against the bone beneath, stroking in circles.

Your thighs are shaking. He’s got you so close. His hair is damp in your clenched fingers. He’s working up a sweat eating you out. “Daddy, I’m going to cum.”

“Good girl. Cum for me.” He slurps between your lips and tongues your bundle of nerves again, his fingers pounding into you.

You explode, quivering against your stepfather, pushing his head against you more tightly. You feel the puffs of air exchange from his nostrils, the encouraging moans extending the pleasure. His fingers finally exit your canal and you relax your grip on Steve’s hair, letting him breathe easier.

“I think suffocating in your pussy is probably one of the best ways I could perish.”

“Sorry, was I too—”

“—No. You were perfect. You’re always perfect.” He releases his hold of your panties and climbs back over you to kiss you, the taste of your cunt heavy on his tongue.

“I want to make you feel good, too.”

“Later, baby. This was just an aperitif.”

You frown. “What’s that?”

“Like an appetizer only it’s alcohol instead of food. It’s meant to stimulate your appetite.” He plants a sloppy kiss on the corner of your mouth and flops next to you. His tall frame is really too much for this bed.

“Oh. That’s kind of hot.”

Steve grins and sighs, swiping at the dampness of you still clinging to his beard. “Everything about you is, baby girl.” He looks happier now. Sated. More content. “I’m gonna take a shower and then I’ll start dinner, okay? I picked up everything you asked for yesterday.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

“Anything for my daughter.” He reaches for one of your hands and brings it to his lips, kissing your fingertips gently.

***

William places the dish of foil wrapped Russet potatoes on the oven rack and shuts the door, setting the timer on the stove. You’re at the sink, washing and cutting vegetables for the salad.

He’s going to give them twenty minutes or so before he starts on the rest of the meal.

You look up at him and smile softly. You’ve showered with him and are wearing one of his tshirts. He loves where the hem hits your thigh, the way the material flows over your body. He’s tempted for another round but he doesn’t want to spoil dinner. He was going to wait.

He asks you about school. The details of your day, the things he’s missed. And he’s surprised that he actually cares about these things. He wants you to succeed. He wants you to be happy.

William looks at the time and decides now is the moment to begin. He shoves his shirt sleeves up and gets started on the steaks, seasoning them with salt and pepper, getting the cast iron seasoned skillet hot. He feels you watching him after you’ve finished and he smiles as he lays down the meat to sear. “You like watching me cook.”

“I do. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just…I would have liked to see you in the restaurant, back in the day. It’s too bad it closed.”

“Yes, it is.” The red meat sizzles and its aroma fills the air. Your mother usually is the one to cook. He wonders why you don’t cook with her, indulging in your obvious culinary curiosity. But he’s not going to ask. Not now. He doesn’t want to mention her and have that wedge between you two evenings in a row.

Afton flips the steaks and repeats the searing process. Reduced the heat when he thinks enough time has elapsed and adds in butter and rosemary and thyme. The oven beeps, signaling the potatoes are ready. He’s gotten sour cream and butter and chives to top them with. You set the table. You’re in your mother’s seat again. It’s yours, now.

Everything is cooked perfectly. The warm

food is comforting. He rests a palm on your knee, nothing sexual really, just letting you feel his presence beside you. The intimacy the two of you share.

“That was so yummy. Thank you, Daddy.”

“Of course, Princess. You deserve it.”

You offer to load the dishwasher and he puts the leftovers into storage in the fridge. There’s not much, just some salad. You’d both been hungry. After he’s finished wiping down the kitchen he joins you on the couch, carrying a pair of filled wine glasses. You sip the pale gold liquid and flip through the channels until you find a horror movie to watch, looking a question at your stepfather.

“Whatever you want to watch is fine, baby.”

On screen, he sees a knife sink into flesh and the bloom of crimson brings back so many memories.

Night four has come and is quickly fading away.

***

You’re in your bedroom, setting out your school uniform clothes for the morning when Steve enters.

You can count the number of times you’ve been in here with him on one hand. It’s not a space he normally intrudes in. This is the second time tonight.

“I’m almost ready,” you say. You’re drowsy from the wine. Maybe slightly tipsy. You’d only had two glasses. Your stepfather had drunk at least twice that amount.

His gaze wanders to the lineup of stuffed animals on the shelf beneath the window. “Which one is it?”

“What?”

“Which one did you use. You know, you had mentioned before…” He points to the shelf. The new yellow rabbit your stepfather had retrieved for you from the claw machine is front and center.

“Oh,” you blush. “Um, the rabbit on the end. The ears are easy to hold…” You can’t finish the sentence. It’s ridiculous to be embarrassed about something like masturbating at this point, when Steve had been eating you out a foot away just a few hours ago.

“Did you ever want a toy? A vibrator, or…”

“I never really thought about it, I guess.”

“Maybe I’ll get you one someday. To tide you over if I’m not around. But not until I’ve had you,” he says, stepping closer. He’s looking at you with lidded eyes that have gone completely black.

“Okay, Daddy,” you say softly.

He reaches for the plush bunny. It’s white with a soft pink bow. Button eyes and nose and a stitched mouth. He holds it out to you, clutching it by the ear. “Show me how you touch yourself. I want to see.”

You swallow nervously. “I haven’t really done that in a while.”

“Baby girl,” he says, and there’s a warning there. He’s not asking. He’s telling. The tenderness from earlier has vanished.

“Okay.” You take the rabbit and set it on the bed, about to climb in when he halts you.

“Without the panties on.”

You slowly lift the hem of the borrowed shirt and reach for the waistband. This pair has little pink hearts on it. You push them down and step out of them, leaving them on the floor in a crumpled pile.

You settle into the center of the bed and Steve sits on the side, his body angled to face you. You reach for the rabbit plush and position it between your legs, lifting your hips so the torso and lower legs are tucked beneath you and the face rests against your crotch, the point of its nose poised nearly level with your clit.

The synthetic fur against your bare flesh feels amazing. Why hadn’t you tried this sooner?

You cross your ankles and the stuffed bunny draws tightly against your body. You wind one of the ears around your hand, reminding you of winding your hand around Steve’s tie. Your body grinds against the plush, the bed creaking softly with the movements.

He rests a palm on your thigh, feeling the muscles shifting beneath the skin. Your eyes are locked with his.

“Does it feel good, baby girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Your stepfather pulls his erection from his pajama pants and begins stroking. You can’t see exactly all of what he’s doing at this angle but you can hear his palm stroking, the sound of skin brushing skin, see the motions of his arm.

The fabric and fur is damp between your legs. There are times when the nose pushes just right, where the seam lines up perfectly and your sensitive nub is mashed, sparking the nerves within. The gyrating motion continues. Your breathing is more rapid. More of a pant. You’re still staring into your stepdad’s blown pupils. The swishing sounds of Steve rubbing his cock match the rate of your respirations.

His hand leaves your thigh and he climbs into bed with you, positioning himself over you, still stroking, bracing himself with his forearm and knees so he hovers just above. He kisses you and says your name. The hand holding the rabbit ear is cramped. You ignore the discomfort, your hips still rolling, pressing your pussy agains the plush.

“My sweet girl,” he says. “My daughter.”

Your core throbs and aches. You’re getting close again. “I’m yours, Daddy. Only yours.”

Raglan groans. His movements on his dick are more frantic now. He’s nearing his own release.

“I want you to cum all over me, Daddy.” You whimper. Nearly there. Every grind digs against your clit perfectly.

“You want it, baby? Want me to paint you with it?”

“Yes, Daddy. I love the way your hot cum feels on me. Oh, Daddy, it’s…I’m…” You arch off the bed as your stepfather’s hot seed spurts over your chest, soaking into the fabric. His head drops down and he kisses you through the remainder of your shared orgasm.

A half hour later you’re back in his bed with a clean shirt and no panties, tucked beside him. You’re so drowsy now. Satisfied. Steve’s breathing is already slowing as he drifts off to sleep.

The fourth night ends.

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #william afton #steve raglan #fnaf fanfic #fnaf movie #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

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