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darlingmbappe · 1 year

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When We’re Ready [1] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two]

Summary: Kylian's blatant desire for a baby has your head spinning. Though, you must say, he is quite convincing...

Warnings: SMUT! Minors, go away. Penatrative sex, oral (female receiving), groping (semi-public), breeding kink, cussing, horny mfs, kinda cringe and cheesy but I stand by it. Let me know if I missed anything! – English is not my first language. –

Masterlist

Kylian was easy to read. His expressive face always gave him away; scrunching and elongating against his will. Even when he was meant to hide his true feelings in certain situations, there was always a little twinge of the eyebrow or crook of the lip to let you know exactly what he was thinking.

Maybe you just knew him too well, spent too much time with his elastic face to pick up on the micro expressions that made it possible to know his mood at any time. But, something was different about tonight. Cheeky? Yes. Pensive? For sure. Annoyed? Maybe… It was hard to say with the way he stared at you from the bed. One hand propping up his heavy head while he watched you intently putting lotion on.

This expression was new.

“Babe?” You call, rubbing together the leftover lotion on your hands, sitting in front of him on the bed. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” He hums, still seeming out of it as he shifts and stares at the TV now, though it only reflects a dark image of himself back at him, seeing as it wasn’t even turned on.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t buy it. Something’s on your mind.” You take your rings and earrings off, setting them in your jewelry catcher by your nightstand. Kylian stayed quiet as you got under the covers, drawing his attention back to you.

When he didn’t give you any sort of answer, you had no choice but to scroll on your phone in an attempt to ignore the burning stare that came from your husband's side of the bed. Eventually, it was impossible to pretend you didn’t feel his eyes dead set on your face. You shut your cell off and set your phone on your stomach, looking directly at him, your sudden view shift taking him by surprise. “Okay, seriously. What?”

“Nothing.” You catch a smirk barely grazing his lips before he just shakes his head, turning and switching off his bedside lamp, cozying up under the duvet. “Don’t worry about it.”

You huff and sneer at his answer, shutting off your lamp as well, curling up with an obvious annoyance at the lack of information. “He thinks I'm not gonna worry about it.” You mumble to yourself passive aggressively, your back turned to him. “You’re being weird. I don’t like it.”

“I'm not being weird.”

“Are too.”

Kylian stared at the back of your head, quiet as he slowly reached for your waist, effectively pulling your body up against his to share his warmth.

“Oh, so now you wanna cuddle?” You grumble, settling in comfortably despite the bite that laced your words.

He kissed your hair, lost in his own racing mind, not fully convinced he should bring this up to you tonight. Your annoyance was surface level, nothing he was deeply concerned about because he felt the way you relaxed against his own muscles, letting his arms act as your blanket.

He was sure that the thoughts that persist in his skull had crossed your mind as well. As he lay there with you, the love of his life, he let his brain think without hesitation; no if’s or but’s, no playing devil's advocate with himself. He let himself indulge in the future fantasy that he had dreamed of since he was a small boy. He felt lucky he had you in all of his delusions, always right there with him. You’re around in every scenario he makes up; ever present, making you laugh, making you swoon. He feels so lucky that you stand with him in the tangible world as well, looking better than anything he comes up with in his mind. Saying funnier things, sweeter things.

As your breathing stables, he’s not sure if you’re fully asleep yet, or how long the silence has even run for. His throat would close at the words when you were awake and responsive, but now that he couldn’t tell, it was easier to whisper them to your sleeping figure – nothing holding him back from telling you his little secret.

“Let’s have a baby.”

His voice could have been mistaken as a sigh as he breathed the words gently into your ear… but you heard them.

Your eyes shot open wide, the air becomes harder to take in your lungs at the shock, laying still in his arms. Slowly, you lift your head and stare back at him. He feels just as shocked upon seeing that you’re actually awake, gulping at the confession he let slip.

He knew you wanted kids, just like he did. You’ve been married just about four months and had previously talked about waiting two years or so to start a family. The pair of you agreed stability in the home was necessary before bringing a child into it – which was fair enough – but his baby fever was deadly. There wasn't anything he could do to keep away the images of little toes, and bassinets, and rolls on their tummy, and dimples on their legs and… just everything. He wanted to see them grow up. He wanted to debate you on who they got it from. He was prepared to do anything for that baby, and the baby itself is just a thought. A sweet little figment of his imagination… but they already had your eyes.

“Did I hear you right?” You sleepily mumble, feeling his grip on you grow tighter and his heartbeat quickening just a smidge.

He kisses your sleepy cheek, resting his face against yours as his arms wrap more securely around you. “Oui, mon coeur. I want a baby with you.” He repeated, voice still soft.

“You think now is a good time for us?”

“Mm…” He ponders a moment. “I think so.”

“Is this what you were thinking about?”

He kisses your shoulder. “Yeah. Been thinking it for a while.”

“A while…”

“A month or two.” Kylian shrugs like it's casual… like it hasn't completely taken over his brain from the second he saw you walk down the aisle. “Imagine our little family. Just the three of us." He lets the silence marinate, unsure of whether or not you've fallen asleep on him. "Don't you think?" He squeezes you gently, needing to keep this conversation going now that it's started.

You burrow your back into him to let him know you're still lucid. "Yeah. Just the three of us... but... is now the time to bring a baby into the world?"

His sigh sounds defeated, tickling your face. “You don’t think it is…”

“I don’t know… I haven’t really thought about it.” You admit, looking at him once more. His eyebrows furrow and now you can read him clearly.

The overthinking face.

Despite being confident in himself and his actions in pretty much every aspect of his life, Kylian is a chronic overthinker. He’ll let his thoughts drag him into a darker place. He begins to question little comments or actions that he wouldn’t have thought twice about if the little voice in his head would just leave him alone. The crease between his eyebrows tilt upward, his tongue finds his top row of teeth, his stare points away to a still object that will allow him to daze off into the flying spiral of introspection.

You tap your finger on his chin to get him to look back at you so you could ground him. “I have thought about it. A lot. Just not so much recently…” You say, not only doing damage control on your last comment, but a true statement on the topic of family that you’re interested in exploring further. “With the wedding, moving, family stuff, you know. Everything’s a little jumbled right now.”

The gears turn in his head and he purses his lips. “No, I get it.” He sighs deeply. “I guess you’re right.” You turn in his arms, now curled into his chest. He kisses your forehead before resting his chin on it, engulfing your body completely in his. “But, maybe two years is a little long to wait.”

“Yeah, I agree. Who knows if we’ll even still be together by then.” You grin mischievously into his skin and feel the vibration of his deep chuckle from your obvious joke.

“Shut up.”

You move your head so you could look at him, pressing a kiss to his chapped and upturned lips. “Let’s give it until the end of the summer. That’s like, what, three months? If we both feel like the time is right, then we start trying, For real.”

He closes his eyes to feel your presence in his, content enough with the compromise. Isn’t that what marriage is all about, anyway?

He wiggles his eyebrows. “You up for a little practice?”

“Practice?”

He rubs a firm hand down your back, letting it rest lower than it was before. “Just a little refresher…”

You caught on, rolling your eyes as he pulls away to gauge your reaction to his suggestion.

“Ky, if anything, you’re a little over-practiced in that department.”

“No such thing, baby. Take it from me, I’m an athlete.” He smirks cheekily, letting only one finger run against your skin, tracing where the hem of your tank top had been resting on your hip. He dipped it lower and pulled up at the waistband of your underwear, letting it snap back gently, stinging only slightly but your sleepy state caused you to feel it ripple through you like he had whipped you.

“Hm…” You were sleepy, sure… but Kylian dipped his face into your neck. His lips could not have been more supple against your skin. The open mouth kisses he placed were gentle, soft, beyond seductive. Your eyes shut against your will at the feeling, his large palm flat against your side and moving up under the material that separated his bare chest from yours, tongue prodding out just slightly to taste your skin. “... I guess we can practice. Just a little…”

That night changed everything for you.

You see babies everywhere now, it’s like the population multiplied overnight. There was nothing that could stop you from cooing at their tiny socks and chubby ankles, the sound of their giggle echoing through the grocery store, their innocent little smiles when they looked at their mommy or daddy… God, does everyone have a damn baby but you?

The months went on and the late summer sun was hotter than it had ever been. At least for as long as you’d lived in Paris. You could barely walk outside for the mail without sweating and needing a shower. You verbally thanked the heavens you weren't pregnant right now, not being able to imagine carrying a human inside of you with all of this heat. Kylian brushed it off, still holding out hope for a new addition to the Mbappe household.

Kylain might be an extremely intelligent man, but, boy… subtlety is not his strong suit. It started with him leaving open baby magazines on the kitchen counter, flipped to the cutest, smallest, chunkiest little one they had on print. He’d send you baby TikTok videos with a message that read “do you like this color for the living room walls?”

In his defense, he was never trying to be subtle. He continued to think about what you said that night he first mentioned trying, and he still thinks that bringing a baby into the mix is right for you two. He tried to chop it down to his social media algorithm sabotaging him with constant baby content or maybe the honeymoon phase after the wedding had him feeling this strongly, but those explanations just didn’t feel right. After knowing you for six years and getting to love you for almost all of that time, he was eager to create a family with you right in the center of it.

The baby discussion had made a sharp turn at some point this last month. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when it all went from questioning every aspect of your life together and reasoning with one another about very serious doubts and scenarios, to unhinged conversations about things that just caused you to giggle. Things like: where the pair of you would bring your newborn on their first vacation, what their first word would be, if they’d follow in Kylians footsteps, how much money the tooth fairy would give them for their first lost tooth.

It’s safe to say, you finally came to the silent conclusion that you were ready – but that realization couldn't have come at a more awkward time.

Dinner with his whole side of the family was a blessing for you both. It wasn’t very often that every schedule cleared up in the same time frame. A large restaurant section was rented out in the heart of Paris for family and friends to get together. It was a nice time to make conversation and catch up on everything life had churned out since the last time you’d seen each other. The appetizers were spectacular, the drinks were doing their job, it was all so nice…

… Except that nothing – yes, nothing – is more awkward than being unstoppably horny for your husband in front of his entire family. You cut yourself off after martini number three when you noticed it was turning your brain into goo. The buzz wasn't enough to make you drool and incoherent, but seeing your Kylian playing with his niece and nephew, picking them up and turning them upside down, pressing affectionate smooches to their bulbous cheeks… drooling and incherency was not far behind.

He was going to be such a good dad. He was already the most caring husband, even with all of his responsibilities and commitments. He found time for you in every sliver of open space in his schedule, needing to soak up quality time with his wife as if it were as necessary as air.

The entrées began to come out as everyone took their respective seats. Kylian was still oblivious to the googly eyes you’d been throwing in his direction all night, but it wasn’t long after he sat down that he caught on.

He leans over to whisper to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I know that look. Very well.”

You shudder at his breath tickling your skin. Flustered beyond belief, you could only manage to shake your head, letting out a shy and breathy laugh.

Kylian bit his lip and snickered along with you, setting his hand on your knee and faces forward. His touch was hot. A skillet off of the stove would have sent the same wave of heat all the way up your limbs. You reach for the water on the table, positive that the fierce blush overtaking your face would be obvious to anyone who decided to look at you in your current state. His long fingers began moving against your knee, tracing mindless patterns that only sent you more goosebumps. He knew that every gentle touch or fragment of affection he would give you right now would be heightened tenfold… he loved knowing that you were putty in his hands. He knew your mind – and right now, he had completely taken over it.

“Feeling okay, mon amour?” The sly smirk on his face gave him away. He was just teasing you, and Lord, does he love teasing. His hand moves upward to your midthigh, stopping and moving his thumb up and down above your dress, crinkling the material. “You’re looking a little flushed.”

You’d been avoiding eye contact, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your needy gaze. “Kylian, stop it. Your mom’s sitting right there.” You reprimand in a soft voice, not wanting to raise any attention to the pair of you up to nothing decent.

“I’m not doing anything.” He chuckles, moving his hand a little higher. You suck in a sharp breath as he leans into your ear again. “Won’t you look at me, bébé?”

You shake your head no, feeling quite shy as your throat dries up. You clear your throat discreetly and reach for the cold water once more, but Kylians hand grabs your palm, bringing it to his lips. “Let me see those eyes, baby.” He mumbled against your hand. His back was turned to the rest of the table, acting as a human curtain for your obvious discomposure.

You roll your eyes before looking at him. You tried your best to give him a scolding look, but the second you saw that same glimmer in his eye that matched yours, your current sensitivities doubled down. The pace of your heart heightened quickly, the warmth in your cheeks increasing by the second.

You felt like leaning in to kiss his lips. He licked them right when he took a quick glance at your own, your hand still taken in his.

“Your eggplant parmesan, madame.” You didn’t even see the waiters bringing out the entrées being too engrossed in Kylian's burning stare. You smile up and thank her then look around the table. You’d forgotten that there were other people there for a second, much less his family. His mom, dad, nieces, nephews, aunties – distant or otherwise… You had to pull yourself together before they caught on to your overly horny demeanor.

Kylian took his hand off your thigh when his chicken alfredo was placed in front of him, noticing how you sat up straighter. For now, he’d let you do your best to make regular conversation with his cousins that sat across from the both of you, but he noticed how tightly your legs were crossed together. He saw your eyes dart away from his whenever you turned his way. When he brushed your pinky on the table before engulfing your hand, you took in a sharp breath. So sensitive.

He nodded toward your empty plate. “Feel like turning in early, mon coeur?”

You raised a brow at him. “Ky, you sure? Your whole family’s here. Don’t you wanna stay a little longer?”

He shrugs. “We’ve been mingling for like,” he looks at his watch, “almost three hours. Besides, I’m quite a bit distracted tonight.” He peeks down at your cleavage, darting his tongue out to wet his lips. “I think I wanna take you home.”

You shudder when he leans in and kisses the corner of your lips. To anyone watching, it’s a sweet gesture of affection, but to you… it was erotic. Sensual. It made you tighten your thighs even more.

His attention is taken back to the others at the table, letting them know that the two of you would be leaving a little early, blaming it on his morning training schedule. You two made your rounds to every seat, kissing cheeks and rubbing shoulders, making sure you left a good impression with each and every one of the members of the group.

He opened the car door for you, grabbing your hand to help you in, kissing your knuckles before hopping in the driver's seat. He weaved through traffic with a sure hand on your upper thigh, slowly and subconsciously getting higher and higher.

It’s unfair that he holds all the power right now – making you sweat and need him with every purposeful tap on your skin. The pads of his fingers migrated downward over your dress until it reached the hem of the frilly garment. His eyes were fixed on the red light in front of him as he let his hand travel under your dress – the simple skin to skin enough to invade you with goosebumps – feeling each and every one on the trail he formed toward your panties, toying with the band wrapped around your hip.

You didn’t even mean to swivel your hips closer to his hand, but when his forefinger traveled lightly to feel your slit over the elastic material, you couldn’t stop yourself. “Ky…” You whined as he wiggled his digit against you.

You look over to see his smirk facing forward, practically visualizing his ego growing at just your involuntary mewl. Looking at his lap, you saw the trace of his member was much too prominent to assume your neediness wasn’t affecting him. You reached over and took hold of it, gripping with a single squeeze that had his breath shake in surprise.

“Merde, cherie…” He hissed, taking sporadic peeks down at your hand as it rubbed him through the layer of cloth. It wasn’t responsible to grope him while he was behind the wheel, but the standstill traffic and ultra tinted windows lent you enough feelings of safety to continue your motions. You felt him getting harder as you pumped your fist as best you could over his stiff zipper.

Half his mind wanted to ask you to wait until you got home so he could shove you between him and the wall, feel, kiss, bite, lick every centimeter he saw… but how could he? Your fluttering lashes made him forget how to speak coherently. He just couldn’t resist you.

His personal fucking kryptonite.

There you both sat, hands on each other's most intimate parts in the center of traffic. It was kind of exciting that the people on the same road had no idea what was going on. That the thick steel doors and blackened windows were the only thing keeping them from seeing you throw your head back when he pressed on your clit. That they were oblivious to the sweet sounds that bubbled up from Kylians chest as you ran your knuckles over his tip, the hand that wasn’t lost under your otherwise innocent dress gripping the steering wheel so, so tightly.

Kylian took a quick and sharp left, finally away from the traffic going down the last road until you reached your private residence. His foot pressed all the way down on the pedal, impatiently rolling the stop signs. In any other scenario, it would make you nervous, but you truly didn't even notice the way he broke traffic laws once he had removed his hand in the urgency of it all.

You unbuckled as he drove down the last couple of blocks, leaning over the center console to attack his open neck, surely leaving a big purple bruise in your wake. Your hand wrapped around his face, pressing him further into you. He grunted and closed his eyes as soon as he put the car in park inside the garage, wasting no time grabbing for your leg so you could straddle him in the tall SUV.

Kylian hiked your dress up with his hand firmly placed on the globe of your ass, squeezing your flesh harshly as you grinded down onto him. With his lips now on your own, all the sounds of pleasure were muffled and smothered.

“J'ai tellement besoin de toi, putain.” I need you so fucking bad. His hands roamed higher around your waist as he got access to your neck.

“J'ai besoin que tu mettes un bébé en moi. C'est si dur.” I need you to put a baby in me. So bad. When you say these words, you feel him stiffen. His hands cease their movements, now only gripping you in place as he leans his head back to look at your face. He needed to see if you were joking or not. Breathless and completely earnest, you stare into his wide eyes, feeling the way the mood changed with just a single phrase.

He hints at a smile. “You’re serious?”

You nod, kissing the tip of his nose, brushing your thumb dearly on his cheekbone. “So serious.”

He grins happily, pure excitement behind his eyes as he rubs your back with an incredible gentleness. He’s overtaken with fondness as he leans in to kiss you again. He smiles into it, letting out a joyous giggle when he hugs you tightly.

He barely pulls back. “Let’s get you inside. My beautiful wife.”

He couldn’t keep his hands off of you as he hugs you down the hallway toward the master bedroom, taking small detours when he simply couldn't help himself; grasping your neck to kiss you lovingly, slowing down to press you against his front and whisper sweet things in your ear.

You half expected him to throw you on the bed, rip your dress off, and take you like it was an animalistic instinct. By his conduct in the restaurant and in the car, you’d expect nothing less than a rough and primal fuck.

But, no. He walked you backward toward the bed, only staring into your eyes adoringly as he lifted you up to lay your head down on the pillow comfortably.

He kissed you once before just looking at you on the mattress, knees turned in and pathetic little squirm demanding its way through your limbs. Your pretty purple dress was now wrinkled and twisted, halfway up your thigh, straps hanging loosely off your shoulder.

He beamed, deciding to sit on his knees with you in between him as he began undoing his white dress shirt, button by button, eyes never leaving yours. Your grabby hands untucked the material from his pants, matching his slower pace as you undid the buckle of his belt.

Once his shirt just hung on his shoulders, he placed two warm hands on your legs, allowing them to wander up and up, the material of your dress all scrunched up in their path. He unveiled your body to his hungry eyes, tapping the side of your ribs so you’d sit up and let him take it off of you completely. You both giggled softly when it finally went over your face, disheveling your hair in the process. Kylian brushed it all away from your features, grabbing your face sweetly and laying you back down, noses only an inch away as he balanced his body on top of yours.

“Mon amour.” He mumbled adoringly, brushing his nose with yours, grazing your lips slightly. “We’re really doing this.”

You just smile, pecking the cheesy wide grin that had taken over his features. “We’re ready.” You confirm, wrapping both your arms around his neck.

He slowly made his way down your body, inch by inch, kiss by kiss. His tongue made soft and swift circles on your left nipple, your other being pinched and soothed by his strong fingers. As he ventured further, he placed his palms firmly on your tummy, kissing it so tenderly, as if to prepare a space for his future baby. Blessing it’s temporary home before they even had the chance to get there.

“You’re going to look so pretty when I get you pregnant.” The words were strangled between the emotions in his voice and the ringing in your own ears; the pressure of his lowering hands making your head spin.

He tossed his shirt aside along with his pants when he reached your underwear, placing himself with purpose as he began pulling down the lacy garment. He hummed delightedly when a string of your slick clung onto the material. You showcased your pussy to him like he paid for it, jutting your hips toward him with pure need.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He murmured as he ran a finger through your folds, just to tease, perceptive to the shiver that formed a sweet noise from your chest.

Without needing further instruction, he kitten licked your clit, gently sucking on it now and then. You turned your head into the silk pillow, letting it catch most of the crude noises you were making for the man between your legs. With his arms securely wrapped around your thighs, he pressed his face further into your core, shaking his head back and forth before adding two fingers.

“God – fuck, Ky.” The abstruse praises spewed out of you when he curled his long, long fingers up, pumping them as they hooked inside your rigid walls.

He pulled them out too quickly for your liking, taking his magic tongue with him as he stared down at your pussy. He stretched your skin apart with his thumbs, playing with you for his own visual gratification before slowly inserting three fingers inside at once. He watched them intently disappear into you, then quickly looking at your face that twisted in delight as he stretched you open – preparing you for his thick member.

You wailed in pleasure, your hands gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. “Oh my god, Kylian.” How he loved hearing you moan out his name. It only made him need you more, staring up at you dotingly past your stomach. “Please, baby… I need you.” You begged.

His fingers slow down before leaving you bare. He watched your empty pulsing hole for only a second, licking his fingers clean as he shuffled around to be on top of you once more.

He hovered over you, staring deeply into your eyes. You sighed in contentment at his gazing, allowing one of your hands to go astray to lower his boxer briefs over his ass, pulling down the front as well. You took hold of his thick and hard cock, pumping it while keeping eye contact with your lover. It was so beautiful to observe the tiny fragments of expressions that waved over his face. The microscopic twinges of his eyelids, the slight curve that forms between his eyebrow, the gentle pursing of his lips.

You tugged him to your opening, running his dick along your soaked lips, lubricating it as you began to try and prod yourself open with him. Just the feeling of his tip beginning to enter your tight pussy had him shuddering. Kylian met your hand, helping it guide his cock to your entrance, slowly inserting his desperate mushroomhead.

He moved slightly, watching your expression for discomfort. “You’re so tight.” He huffed. Your hand stayed on his base, his small and paced movements still only to stretch you out for him. He felt the pads of your fingers as he shallowly pushed in and out of you.

“Faster.” You demanded, moving your hands to his ass to follow his movements.

He complied, heavy breathing fanning your face, his pace increasing, stuffing more of himself inside of you. Kylians eyes were shut tightly, head lulling down and occasionally planting a sloppy kiss on whatever skin happened to be closest to his parted lips. His arms shift into a plank position and he nuzzles his face in your neck, body pressed firmly against you – the beads of sweat on his muscles rubbing against your middle in tandem with his thrusts that still only went in halfway. With your hands still on the globes of his ass, you clenched and pushed him deeper with your palms.

He groans at the feeling, almost all the way inside of you. “You want it all? Huh?” He asks between gasps of air. “You want me to stretch out your tight little pussy. Take it.” He kisses you, tongue aggressively scouting your mouth. He lifts your legs up and sets them around his shoulders.

While staring into your eyes, he snaps his hips forward until his pelvic bone was pressed deliciously on your own.

“Fuck!” You scream, feeling him so, so deep inside of you. The slightly upward curve pinned against your g-spot as he stayed still in that position. The way your strained walls grabbed him and kept him buried inside made his eyes cross for a second. He tilted his head and kissed your left knee. Your foot grazed his back when he pulled out almost all the way, and, Christ… the look he gave you was debilitating when he thrusts back in.

When you say Kylian is easy to read, you really meant it. You could stare at his face for all of three seconds and gauge his mood. It was something he actually found a little annoying sometimes; coming home after a tough day and you’d force him to talk about it before he would even get a hello out. He could say he hated your perceptiveness all he wants, but he’ll never truly convince himself of that. He loved that he could communicate with you with just a simple impression on his features.

Now, he thrusted in and out, in and out as he gazed down at your hooded eyelids – and the look on his face was, again, one you've never seen before.

And despite this, you just knew what it meant. You felt it in your heart.

Love. Passion. Devotion. Care. Companionship. He'll be there for everything that is to come.

You saw your future in the shining glimmer in his irises. You saw everything.

Tears naturally welled in your eyes, one slipped, rolling down the side of your face. There was a glint of concern in Kylian as he slowed his unforgiving pace, but you moved your hips to keep him going.

He halted his motions and was about to ask you if you were okay or if you were hurt, but your hands cradled his face and you leaned up to peck his lips. “I just love you so much.” You say, answering the question he hadn’t even asked yet.

He lets out a deep sigh, wavering and telling. His thumb grazes over the trail of your tear, then leaves it there to stroke your skin. You gave him a light and playful spank on his right butt cheek, making you both giggle. He leaned down and kissed you feverishly – smooching once, twice, three times and pulling back only slightly.

“I love you. Je t'aime. Dieu, je t'aime tellement.” I love you. God, I love you so much. He planted sweet kisses all over your face, still smiling. “Tu es tout pour moi.” You are everything to me.

He pulled completely out of you, leaving you empty. A whine bubbled out of your chest and Kylian traced over the crease that had formed between your eyebrows, just before inserting himself back. Your mouth opened in pleasure, a moan stuck inside your throat as he gradually powered through your tight walls, inch by fucking inch. It was a feeling of complete satisfaction when his tip collided with your sweet spot once more. Even better when the drag of his thrusts nudged it over, and over, and over, A slow pace. A gentle pace. A pace that he felt necessary for the beginning of this new chapter.

He knew he was close, but kept his rhythm to get you there with. His hand found your clit quickly, making you jolt up, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him into you.

“Oh, shit, Kylian… God! Yes! Fuuuuck…” The heaps of praise melted like butter in Kylians ears. The sweet voice of the woman he loves praising him made his heart flutter, soaking in the feeling of your teeth sinking into his shoulder.

“I’m gonna fill you up.” He stuttered into your hair, changing the motions of his fingers of your sensitive bud to get you there faster.

“Please, please, Kylian.” You kiss his neck, biting the skin. “Get me pregnant. Please.”

He moaned at your words, feeling like he couldn’t stop himself from orgasming for a minute longer. “Putain, je suis sur le point de... bon sang!” Fuck, I’m about to… Jesus Christ!

It was there. Right there. His thrusts faltered, he took your face from his neck and ran his free thumb over your lips, pressing his forehead to yours as he groaned deeply. He squeezed his eyes closed as you felt his hot spurts of cum painting your walls, shooting into you delightfully until you were sure you were full. He cursed, eyes screwed shut as he continued thrusting sporadically. The feeling of it all made the knot in your abdomen pop. You screamed his name, legs shaking on his shoulder violently, toes curling, thighs shivering.

He pulled his hand away and kept fucking his cum into you through his groans of overstimulation, right until he had to gently and slowly pull out. He kept your legs pressed against your chest as he ventured down the mattress to get a better view of your pussy; his seed spilling out of you in dribbles, forcing him to stuff as much as he could back into you with his thumb. You shivered, lifting your head to watch him admire his work as if you were a piece of art he’d spent centuries perfecting. Slowly, he brought your sore legs back into a more natural position, soothing your aching muscles with a gentle massage. You were still coming down under his touch, both of you absolutely breathless. He throws himself down on the pillows next to you, whisking your hand from your heaving stomach – just holding it as you both calmed down and caught your breath.

“Christ…” You mumbled, chuckling a little bit. You rotate your body toward him with a giddy smile on your face, cuddling into his side and kissing his cheek. He began chuckling along with you. “What if I'm pregnant right now?” You ask, excitement comfortably taking over your face.

He shakes his head and looks at you, then down to your exposed stomach pressed against him. His hand snakes onto your middle, gently pushing you on your back as he steadied his hand right on your belly button.

He didn't even need to say anything. His face said it all.

The excitement of it all carried through the following weeks. It took everything in you to not tell every one of your friends and co-workers that you guys were trying. With the media breathing down your necks, it was agreed that this would be kept on the down low and you’d only announce when you were showing and could no longer hide it. Privacy was important to you both as a couple, and saying you're trying was really just a socially acceptable way of telling people you and Kylian were just constantly having sex.

Your leg bounced in anticipation as you asked your Alexa (again) how long was left of your fifteen minute timer. Kylian chewed on his thumbnail as he sat next to you on the bed with the same frustration at the slow clock ticking down, needing to know if the little stick that sat in the bathroom had one or two lines painted on it.

“I’m not pregnant.” You say into the silence with no evidence that that was true.

He leans back, taking his raw nail away from his teeth. “You could be.”

“I don’t think I am. Wouldn’t I, you know, like, feel it, or something?”

He sighs, placing a sure hand on the small of your back. “I have no idea. I don’t know if you know this about me… but I’ve never been pregnant before.” He smiles, earning a forced grin from you. He notices the unnaturalness of your curved lips to appease his bad joke, never reaching your eyes as they darted around the room nervously. He scoots closer, hugging your shoulders comfortingly, rubbing them like it would take away your anxiety. “Whatever it says, we have time. We keep trying.” He kisses your cheek with a quirk in his smile. “I quite enjoy trying.” You huff out a laugh – a real one – and playfully jab his stomach with your elbow.

That moment lasted no longer than a few seconds before the sound of the alarm went off. You audibly gulped down the minimal moisture in your mouth, taking a deep breath in as you both walked to the bathroom, Kylian holding your shoulders as he walked behind you into the tiled room.

“You want me to look?” He quietly asked after you just stared at the stick that was face down on the counter, not moving a muscle or even blinking. You nod, wiping your hands on your pants.

It felt like everything moved in slow motion when he reached for the otherwise insignificant plastic test that your future was written on. He kept the stick face down in his hand and took a deep breath in. You subconsciously crossed your fingers at your side. You’d never done that before, but you were hoping the universe would listen to your silent pleading superstition. You watch his face so intently, hyper-analyzing it before he even turns the stick in his hands.

His eyes shot down to it and he pursed his lips with a miniscule sigh. Without saying anything else, he sets it back down on the counter and pulls you in for a hug. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you needed confirmation of your suspicions, looking over at the stick with only one single line.

He put his chin on top of your head, squeezing you dearly. “It’s okay. It was our first try.” He murmured as you wrapped your own arms around his torso disappointingly.

You nod despite the grave let down, having convinced yourself that it would happen now like you had both hoped. “Yeah. I don’t know why I expected to get a positive that quickly. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”

He shakes his head, not really knowing what to say to comfort you while dealing with his own waves of sadness. Embracing each other in lieu of speaking was just as comforting, knowing you both were having the same experience together was consolation enough.

He kisses the top of your hair with a whispered I love you, holding you, holding him.

A/N: Part 1 of 2 (possibly 3). I'm back! Thank you to everyone for being patient with me and checking up on me through my little month hiatus. Sometimes, you just need a break and I appreciate you guys so much for being so kind through it! Huge hug and kiss to everyone here! Based on these requests (anon 1) (anon 2). And, don't worry, @megannandrewss , yours is coming in the next parts!

Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7 @gurleenkl @drewstarkeysbae @ vibinwkay @ctn26 @ippid @i0veless @abayo222 @b-bradshaw @http-isabela @zoeeeruiz @mitruscity @kenanlotus0 @mbapbaesluvr @alwaysclassyeagle @nhatquynh @philipetchebest @ricsaigaslec @dfswfvf @urfav-tz @kylianswag @fanatica2023 @alexisquinnlee-bc @megannandrewss

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe one shot #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe fic #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappé imagine #kylian mbappe smut #kylian smut #kylian mbappe blurb #kylian mbappe x y/n #kylian mbappe angst #kylian mbappe x you #mbappe #futbol imagines #soccer imagine #psg imagine

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dellalyra · 10 months

Note

Hi love I’m back for a bit anyways I was going through my notes and I saw your folder with request ideas that I had and didn’t request yet and since you finally hit 2k i can still do it so yay!

You remember that scene in the manga where they had to train gojos infinity by basically throwing things at him? Yeah so what I was thinking is that moment and also just to make it funnier I just know they were throwing things at him at the speed of light just to make sure something hits him and they moved up to heavier massive objects just for fun so something like that please. :)

ᴜɴᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴇꜱᴛ ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ - ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

Pixie Says: this was so fun soraya you are my queen I stg I loved writing this

“Did it hit?” You shout across the field.

“No! Do it again?” Satoru’s voice echoes back.

Shoko hands Geto another tennis ball, and he proceeds to fire it across the field - towards an unperturbed Gojo.

“What about that one?” Shoko asks.

“Nope! Do something bigger! Geto - where’s our basketball?” The white haired man says, with all the excitement of a puppy.

Geto rolls his eyes, but smiles slightly - a rare sight these days - as he wanders toward the dorms to grab his ball.

“Think fast!” Shoko shouts, throwing an apple at Gojo’s head.

The apple splits in half and falls to the floor as you and Shoko cheer with Gojo at yet another object infinity can reflect.

Geto jogs towards them, and tosses the orange basketball at his best friend - it bounces straight off and back toward Geto who grabs it in one large hand.

“Okay - we gotta think bigger.” You say, hands on your hips and looking around the courtyard.

Shoko strolls off, only to come back a second later with a chair from one of the classrooms.

“Jesus Koko - I meant like - a pillow.” You try to take the chair but Gojo interrupts by shouting ‘throw the chair!’.

Ever the dutiful girlfriend, you allow Geto to swing the chair toward your man who is gleefully jumping at the prospect of having a chair flung in his direction.

The wood splits in half and falls with a clunk to the ground. Geto claps and whoops at the mess left, all four of you cheering, a mutual love of chaos being the thing that bonded you all three years ago.

“Okay but these are all like, blunt things. Can it stop weapons? Y/N, throw a knife at him.” Shoko says, patting down your thigh to find the holster you keep under your uniform skirt.

“Get your morguey hands outta my girl’s skirt, Ieiri!” Satoru shouts, tossing a tennis ball back at her.

“What about a knife, ‘toru?” You say, fully confident in your love’s abilities to not get stabbed (again).

You had been witness to his crazed intent to become stronger, and almost invincible, over the past few months since the incident. Marks left on everyone, a slight scar on Gojo’s pale throat, crisscrossed scars spanning the width of Geto’s broad chest - the scar of the sound of a gunshot penetrating a sweet girl’s head haunting every dream, hands stained with the blood of her best friends and the memory of shaking hands as she sewed their wounds shut for Shoko and the image of your soulmate bleeding out in your lap and the slash of scar across your thigh from the blow he landed as you tried to deflect him from Satoru.

If one good thing had come from it, it was the fact that it contributed toward the push you and Satoru both needed for getting your heads out of your asses and finally confessing just how much you loved each other that day after the mission in the abandoned hospital.

So you didn’t worry.

Shaking the thoughts from your head you whip your dagger out and spin it between your fingers.

“Ready, ‘toru.” You ask, smiling.

“Always, princess.” He smirks back.

You fling the knife with eerie precision toward him and see it clatter to the ground below an unscathed Gojo.

Another chorus of cheers erupts.

“We need to think even bigger.” Shoko says, deep in thought.

“I’ve got exactly the thing.” Geto says, smirk gracing his features as he looks straight toward you, and in one fast swoop you find yourself in his arms as he prepares to launch you across the field.

“Geto Suguru don’t you dare throw me! I swear to god I will fucking - AGHHHHHH.” Your words of warning are interrupted as you feel yourself fly through the air and then as soon as it started it stops with a jolt and a pair of strong arms wrapping around you, a sheen of sweat sticking to your skin.

You open your eyes, laughing at the turn of events, and see a pair of ice blue eyes, the colour which has been your favourite since you were 16, staring back at you with a wide smile.

“You caught me!” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck and realising that he’s switched his infinity off to hold you.

“Only a fool would drop a girl like you.” He says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as you smile.

“I can’t believe you just quoted scooby-doo and kissed me.” You say, burying your head into his neck.

“You love me.” He says, shrugging.

“That’s exactly why I love you.” You giggle as he gently returns you to solid ground.

“I love you more, but now, I believe you have revenge to enact.” He pats your head, and fixes your shirt.

“I do, thank you, ‘toru.” A peck on the cheek as you stand on the tips of your toes. You smile at him, and turn around.

“GETO SUGURU! YOU BASTARD, GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!” You sprint toward the man who is laughing and beginning to back away slowly - away from the wrath of the future Mrs.Gojo.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #recommended #gojo fluff #anime #family formations extras #dad!gojo

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propenseverbosity · 1 month

Text

Gale's Simulacrum Headcanons

Disclaimer: Yes, I am aware of the magic behind Gale's mirror image and know that it's not, in fact, a simulacrum. But I wrote this before I knew that, and I still think it's cute.

Anyway,

Gale and his Mirror Image (feat. a romanced Tav)

Gale’s projection has some form of sentience, since he can maintain the summon on his own without Gale there to maintain concentration (ie: for the death protocol) Which makes me wonder exactly how much of Gale’s personality is in there.

The portion of Gale’s mind that is open to him means he has a working memory of other times he’s been summoned. Over time, he becomes like a second Gale. A Purple!Gale if you will.

Gale summons Purple!Gale for many different reasons: Checking for ceremorphosis symptoms, instructing Tav on the steps for his resurrection, and of course, playing usher to his Act 2 date with Tav, but he also uses the image for more mundane purposes, like helping him trim his beard, or leaving messages at camp when he’s away.

Gale created a spell that was meant to provide a protocol for his projection interacting with his partner, but in doing so he accidentally gave the projection a crush on Tav.

Imagine Gale examining what is supposed to be his mirror image, when his mirror suddenly loses focus and starts staring past him at something in the distance with an adoring smile on his face. Gale has to turn around and see Tav talking to someone else in camp, and promptly remind Purple!Gale to pay attention.

Gale: "And where do you think you're looking, eh? Focus."

Purple!Gale: "Hm? Oh. Of course."

Gale: "Don't make me discorporate you."

Gale leaves his image outside his tent one night to leave a message for Tav, but Purple!Gale tries to strike up a conversation with his partner, slowly slipping in a few compliments or flirty lines (maybe even a few that Gale planned to use himself)

Tav is completely aware of Purple!Gale’s crush, and thinks it’s adorable. They’ll even go as far as to humor him sometimes and flirt back, because Gale being jealous of himself is way funnier than it needs to be.

Purple!Gale can see into Gale’s mind, but doesn’t possess the ability to lie, so he’ll occasionally reveal secrets about Gale to his partner without Gale knowing.

“Yes, when he returns from fetching breakfast, I do believe Gale will be joining you and the others on your quest today. He’s been rather excited by the prospect of seeing you in battle again.”

After the brain is defeated, and Tav moves into the tower with Gale, he uses Purple!Gale to help him get housework done after particularly busy days at the academy.

Gale promised his partner he’d clean up the tower by the time they got back, but he’s been grading papers all evening, so Purple!Gale helps out instead.

Tav comes home to find Gale asleep, and Purple!Gale in the kitchen doing the dishes.

“Welcome home. Fear not! I’ve completed the household tasks. Gale missed you very much today. In fact, he’s thinking of you as we speak.”

#galeposting #bg3 gale #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep #bg3 spoilers #gale dekarios #bg3 tav #bg3 oc #I love he

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nonranghaes · 7 months

Text

heads up! food mentions + mentions of joshua being a lil sick

"joshua hong, you better not be doing what i think you're doing."

the scene, as it is now: joshua is curled up on your couch, a blanket draped over his lap because it's a little chilly and he's been dealing with a slight cold, so he's been taking it easy lately. you've just come home, showered, and are finally dressed in cozy clothing again after a particularly long shift. you noticed that that the last tiny bag of your snacks is missing... just as you heard the sound of plastic crinkling from the couch.

"... i'm not?"

he's not convincing in the slightest. your boyfriend is pure evil. you've always known it, but he typically spared you from most of that--he has friends who gave him far funnier reactions. but the moment he hears you running, you see him shoving something into his mouth--the tiny cookies, no fucking doubt--and lunging to hide the rest of the bag underneath him as he all but face-plants into the other end of the couch.

"joshua!" you jump onto the couch, reaching around him, "that was the last bag, you jerk!"

"i'm sick!"

"you're gonna be sick--"

"that doesn't even make sense!"

sometimes you wonder how your relationship with him turned into this. in the early days, he was a gentleman to you: always so gentle and loving and caring. and then he started letting that image down around you more and more. he teased you, he let you in on his pranks, he became much more unashamed about silly things like this. seungcheol once told you that joshua was a menace, and you'd denied it at first. and now here he is with the last bag of cookies that you love, keeping them tucked close to his chest. you know him well enough to know he was definitely going to replace them tomorrow and this was just a situation of bad timing...

but one way or another, you end up sitting on top of him, watching as he clutches the bag in one hand. he opens it a minute later, revealing the empty bag.

"all gone," he smiles at you that devilishly handsome smile. you don't know whether you wanna smack his arm for making such a big deal out of this or kiss his stupid face. "sorry, baby."

you pout at him. "jerk. why do i love you?"

"because," he reaches to the corner of the couch cushions, dragging out another bag. "it's not the last bag. i wouldn't do that to you."

you don't believe him for a second.

"okay--i wouldn't do that to you when i'm sick and can't go replace them immediately." he holds up the bag. "... split them with me?"

"no." you take it, and then lean forward to kiss his stupidly handsome face even though you know he'll get you sick. he's done it before... as have you, to be fair. "but i love you."

he snorts, and pulls you in to hold you for a moment. "yeah, yeah, i love you, too, you dork."

"mmhm. your dork." you snuggle in for a moment, giggling. truly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

#nonranghaes.thoughts #seventeen x reader #nonranghaes.svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen x you #svt imagine #svt x you #joshua hong x reader #joshua x reader #joshua fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #me holding onto the fact shua is a menace: yeah ill think about him being annoying <333

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wttcsms · 1 year

Note

“she fell first, but he fell harder” with any inarizaki boy of your liking please! 🩵 have a good day~

pairing rintarou suna x f!reader word count 2.6k content contains mutual pining, tutor!au, right person/wrong time, bittersweet ending, unrequited love, slight angst author’s notes maybe not what u anticipated hehe

You don’t look up from your book even though the slamming of a bookbag on top of the table obnoxiously announces the arrival of another student, one who’s obviously going to take the seat next to yours.

“Hey—” So it’s a boy then.

“—can I ask you for a favor?”

Now you look up, partially annoyed that he’s interrupted you while you were in the middle of reading a particularly interesting paragraph, but more curious than not. You tilt your head, taking him in. Of course, you know Rintarou Suna — it’s hard for any student in the school not to know him. But just because you’re aware of his existence — and if you dare to allow yourself to be bold enough, you think he’s aware of your own — doesn’t exactly make the two of you chummy enough to ask each other for favors on a Tuesday morning.

You must have a bad poker face because he raises both hands in mock surrender. “Look, just hear me out. I need to pass this English class or my coach and captain won’t sign off on allowing me to play in the next few matches. I’ve seen the rankings; you’re top of our class. You know this shit a lot better than I do.”

A beat passes.

Two startling and equally scary revelations:

Now that you’re finally seeing him up close, Suna’s eyes are a much lighter shade than you thought they were. (Not that you’ve given his eyes much thought up until now, anyway.) It suits him. And,

Suna is absolutely aware of your existence.

“I’ll owe you one.” He says, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He’s playing at being nonchalant, but you can see it in those lighter-than-you-thought eyes of his that he’s practically pleading with you.

“I want you to convince Atsumu Miya to do an interview for the school paper.” You finally say.

Raised eyebrows is the closest thing you’ll get to seeing emotion on his face, you think. “Done.” And then, “Why Atsumu?”

“He’s not an easy person to get a hold of, but I know being the first person to ever interview him will probably mean something in the future.”

He nods, taking it in. “So it’s not because you’ve got a crush on him?”

You can’t tell if he’s teasing you or not; his voice and facial expression give nothing away. Shifting a bit in your seat, you frown. “No. His bad dye job makes him an eyesore.”

The corners of Suna’s mouth curve up at that.

ii.

“I didn’t know you wrote for the school paper,” Suna says.

“I’m the president of the club.” You push a paper covered in red pen marks, all of them corrections and criticisms against him. “Suna, we’ve been going at this for almost two weeks now. How have you barely improved?”

“Maybe you’re just not a good tutor.” You can read him well enough to know that he’s only joking. “You wanna be a journalist or somethin’?”

“Don’t try to change the subject. At least pretend to look over your paper.” Sighing because you know he won’t actually do anything unless you appease him, you shrug. “I want to be a sports reporter.”

“So that’s why you were so excited to meet with Atsumu!” You don’t expect him to actually be invested in your life, but you excuse his exclamation as him being bored out of his mind and savoring any distraction he can get.

The idea of being just a pleasant distraction from the pain of schoolwork makes you feel weird.

iii.

As you near the two-month mark since your tutoring sessions began, you make progress with Suna. He’s funnier than you realize, both of you sharing the same dry sense of humor that has jokes that can only properly be delivered if you say it with a straight face. He’s shown you about 200 of the images and videos cluttering his camera roll, and you pretend there’s no intimacy in that. His grades in English have substantially gotten better, to the point where you’re certain one day he’s going to decide that he doesn’t need tutoring anymore.

(For some reason, that makes you kind of sad.)

For now, you’re content to just be sitting next to him, both of you silently working on your assignments. He’s rewriting his essay due tomorrow (he’s a bit of a procrastinator, really) and you on your latest article for the school paper. The silence in the library — the silence wrapping the two of you together — is surprisingly comfortable.

Sometimes, Suna can’t make it to the tutoring sessions, and you pretend that it doesn’t matter. You just shrug and smile and move on. After the third time he does, he confesses that it’s because he’s seeing someone.

We’re just talking, he tells you. But you know that he must really like her because Suna doesn’t usually waste his breath talking about things he doesn’t care to talk about. He’s the one who brought her up completely unprompted. You actually would have been more than okay with remaining completely oblivious to whoever Suna decides to enter the talking stage with.

He yawns, stretching his arms while he does so.

It should be illegal, you decide, for someone so out of reach to still be so close to you. If you shifted your body back against your chair, nothing would stop the inevitability of his outstretched fingers brushing against your hair. The thought of that happening makes you far more excited than it should.

(He never tells you when they stop talking, but you know when they do because somewhere in between all these tutoring sessions, you started to learn him.)

iv.

“You really think I’m just messin’ around?” He’s got his elbow resting on the library table, cheek and chin laying against the open palm of his hand. When Suna smiles, it’s a little crooked, almost like a smirk, yet warm enough to cause heat to rise to your cheeks, especially when he’s smiling and staring at you like that, like you’re the one person he actually wants to see.

“You’re always messing around,” You point out.

“I wouldn’t joke about this.” There’s that familiar pleading look in his eyes that contains enough superhuman strength to pound away at your steely resolve. It’s the same look he gave you all those months ago when you two were nothing more than classmates exchanging favors. It’s the same damn look that got you caught up in all sorts of messes: rearranging your schedule to tutor him, suddenly spending more time making sure you look good for school, rejecting the other guy who first asked you the same question Suna’s asking now…

“I’m serious. Please go to the dance with me.”

“You didn’t even give me chocolate or flowers.” You manage to say, trying to ignore the pleased sensation that overtakes your body. It’s a different reaction from what you felt when your other classmate asked, and he at least had the decency to bring you your favorite drink from the vending machine when he did it. “This doesn’t seem like a very serious request.”

He snorts. “Would you have even wanted me to show up to homeroom with a poster and a bouquet and the twins serenading you as I asked you to a school dance?”

He knows you well enough that an extravagant proposal like that would have you wanting to run into the nearest bathroom stall and lock yourself in there until school ended. The fact that he knows you would hate anything remotely close to that, less dramatic or not, makes you agree to go with him.

(Perhaps he’s spent these tutoring sessions learning you, as well.)

“Hey!”

You turn around at the sound of a familiar voice, smiling when he comes into view. Donned in the same oversized gown, graduation cap hanging from one hand, Rintarou Suna is smiling back at you.

“Knew you would graduate top of our class. Congratulations.”

“And you were ranked within the top twenty. Being a volleyball star just wasn’t enough for you, huh?”

It feels good to be out here, freshly graduated and knowing the rest of the world is out there, just beyond the boundaries of your high school. The heat is getting the best of everyone wearing the thick graduation gowns, but instead of looking like a sweaty mess like the rest of you mere mortals, Rintarou just seems to shine, as if he’s made for summer. His hair sticks up, probably an effect of being stuffed in the cap for so long, and you find yourself pressing down on his hair. This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to help him tame his cowlick, and the action is so familiar, that it doesn’t even catch him off guard.

“My tutor carried.” He says, grinning at you.

(You feel considerably warmer now, and it’s not because of the sun.)

The laugh you give him makes his grin only grow wider. You sound equal parts pleased and surprised, just like how you always do whenever he decides to randomly compliment you. Is it bad that he wants to make you laugh like this for the rest of his life?

Before he can make a proper quip, one that will surely have you laughing even harder, someone is gently tugging you away from him.

“Hey, babe, my parents wanted to get pictures of us together.” And then, as if realizing Suna’s right there even though he’s tall enough to be hard to miss and close enough to tug you back towards him, the boy stares at him. “Oh, hey. Suna, right?”

Everyone here pretends as if it’s not already obvious that you all know each other.

“Congrats on nationals, man.”

“Thanks.” Suna says, without sounding the least bit thankful, even though he should be. He thought the two of you broke up already, and he’s been preparing for how he’s going to confess his feelings for you for the past two months now. At least now, he won’t have to suffer your rejection and embarrass himself for making a move on a taken girl.

“C’mon, my mom’s going to hate us if we keep her waiting any longer.” Your boyfriend is holding your hand, leading you toward wherever his parents are. You turn your head, looking like you want to say something to Rintarou, anything at all, but instead you give him a shrug and a small smile.

He keeps that smile of yours tucked safely in his pocket, not knowing that it’ll be a few more years until he gets to see it again.

vi.

Staying in touch is hard, but Suna is nothing if not stubborn. A random TikTok sent to you at 2 AM here, an attempt to meet for lunch if the two of you are in the same city at the same time there.

Getting drunk from your high school reunion and sneaking into the library the two of you spent the better half of your high school years pining after each other in is the most fun Suna’s had in years. The two of you are lying on the plush carpet, too drunk to care about how dirty it must be.

“Gosh, we spent so much time in this place.” You’re looking up at the ceiling, tacky glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck to it, remnants left behind by students who graduated way before you two.

“Some of the happiest times of my life.” He’s being too honest without realizing it.

You laugh, thinking he’s just joking because you always think he’s joking every time he tries to hint at his feelings for you. Feelings that didn’t hit him until he realized how pretty you are, even with your hair tied back and your bottom lip being bitten to death by your teeth as you type away at an article none of the students in this school will even bother to read. Feelings that he wished he confessed to you on the dancefloor, when the two of you slow danced, and you asked him are we doing this as friends? and he didn’t have the balls to say anything but of course it’s as friends.

“Yeah, I bet having me roast the shit out of every paper you wrote was the highlight of your second year.”

“It’s because it was you doing it that made me so happy.”

You laugh even louder at that. “Oh my God, Rin, you’re such a sap when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not just sayin’ shit just to say it, y’know? I mean it.” He tries his hardest to make the sincerity in his words stick, but he’s drunk, and his words are kind of slurred, and his intentions just slip and slide away. “I liked you back then.” Still do, he doesn’t say. I still like you.

“No way, really?” You turn to face him, wide-eyed with a tipsy smile on your face that lets him know that you just don’t know how serious he is right now. “Because I had the biggest crush on you in high school too!”

He always assumed the feelings were returned, but the possibility that they weren’t — that him confessing would just fuck up your friendship and have you leave him — was too large for him to risk it. Swallowing hard, he asks,

“Did you… Did you ever think we would end up together? Back then, I mean?”

You hum, too inebriated and maybe too distant to him now to recognize the pleading look in his eyes. “I wanted us to, but then I thought there wasn’t a chance in hell you would actually like me back. Gosh, this was all so long ago, though. I can’t believe we used to like each other, isn’t that so funny, Rin?”

The used to reveals enough to him.

vii.

You’ve made a name for yourself now. You’re not just a mere sports reporter (he doesn’t know that he’s the first person you confessed your dream career to), but every professional volleyball team in Japan has deemed you their favorite reporter to see out on court. Rintarou blames the fluttering of his heart and the excitement that floods him every time he sees you at one of his games on your popularity, but he sees through his own flimsy excuse.

You don’t show favoritism when it comes to conducting your post-game interviews, but tonight, you’re standing in front of the camera with him, smiling up at him with a microphone in your hand. He’s happy you’re here, but the only question he cares to answer is the what if? that’s been haunting him ever since that reunion. What if he confessed in high school? What if he sobered up after that night and told you the truth? Would this interview be different, then? Would you still say,

“Congratulations on a game well played!”

And would he still say,

“I heard some more congratulations are in order.” He’s giving you the same lopsided smile he always gives you, the smile that rests on his face yet belongs to only you. It’s all anyone could talk about. Pictures of you flood his timeline; his teammates, other players, and sports fans alike all were overjoyed at your happy announcement. You didn’t just win his heart over, but a good portion of Japan’s as well.

“Congratulations on your engagement.”

You smile at him, practically beaming, shining so much brighter than these stadium lights, and he holds onto this one even tighter. A smile just for him, placed right next to the memory of the one you’d given him at graduation.

#suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #rintarou suna x reader #hq x reader #fluff #one shot #drabble #angst #imagine #hq fanfic #wttcsms writing warmups

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kanekoii · 7 months

Note

luxiem + ren, doppi and kyo reacting to a new kouhai whos model is Arlecchino from GI but she just ends up being the softest, sweetest and most innocent girl ever

lyra's notes -> another reader gender change but ouggghh arle...once she comes out i might retire my dps qiqi...(i havent seen any leaks abt her kit but arle is hot so im sorry qiiq)

pairings -> luxiem + ren zotto, doppio dropscythe, kyo kaneko x gn! reader

genre -> scenario, fluffy, a tiny bit of crack

song -> sorry i got nothing for this one

warnings -> a tiny bit of pining

VOX AKUMA ->

he thinks it's so funny, like he laughed so hard when he heard your voice for the first time. and he thinks your voice is adorable too! from your model and channel's theme alone, one would assume you're the mean and intimidating type. but nope, you're a total sweetheart and vox adores that. you're pretty innocent too, so some of his pick up lines will go right over your head and it's ADORABLE when he sees you get confused about some of the things he says.

MYSTA RIAS ->

he tries his best not to laugh when you say especially sweet and innocent things. he really tries but it's adorable and hilarious. your model is so intimidating and a little scary looking, but as soon as you start talking, that facade melts and shows how much of a sweetheart you are! especially in collab streams before everyone knows you super well, it's adorable to hear your sweet voice in contrast to your intimidating model.

LUCA KANESHIRO ->

he’s supposed to be intimidating too, so the both of you together is plain adorable! people will draw your models together and it will look so scary but when you’re collabing together, it’s just a wholesome fest most of the time! we know he definitely will have a soft spot for you and collabs with you a lot because he just thinks you’re so cute and he can’t get enough of you!

IKE EVELAND ->

what. bro is so confused by you sometimes. yes you’re adorable but sometimes he just gets so confused by your intimidating model contrasting your sweet and innocent nature. ike is somewhat put off by it at first, but he eventually starts to warm up to it and finds your personality just as cute as the others do! even if it’s hilarious to see your model’s sharp and scary eyes light up when you get excited about something.

SHU YAMINO ->

he’s got a bit of an intimidating model too, so it’s more than funny to see your wholesome and sometimes flirty interactions. you’re both some of the softest and most wholesome in en, so it’s just heaven for you to be collabing with him. the first time he saw your model, he was really convinced you were going to be the scary type but your voice ruined that image. he is so smitten with your cute personality and voice too <3

DOPPIO DROPSCYTHE ->

essentially just like shu, except piochan is much more weird than wholesome. one would come to expect a certain level of silliness in him that he happens to bring out in you despite your soft and sweet personality. it’s strange really, the way you and him can communicate in a language only the two of you understand.

REN ZOTTO ->

it’s becoming increasingly hard to make these unique but here we go. ren fits his model pretty well, so seeing you have such a misleading model that reveals your adorable and soft personality is just so funny to everyone including him. for more please infer back to ike’s part because i’m exhausted sorry.

KYO KANEKO ->

he has the same sort of thing in a way, except he’s a cute model with an utterly unhinged personality. as soon as he befriends you, his streams become even funnier because he’ll often be by your side to disorient viewers who were expecting you to act like how your models portrayed you. nope. enjoy your vtuber fame tho you deserve it for being so cute :p

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luvsfootball · 7 months

Text

failed date - aurelien tchouameni.

requested by - anon.

request - hi, can u write for aurelien tchouameni pls. no one has ever written anything for him. 🙁

“he what?”

you were back from another failed date, arriving back to your shared apartment with aurelien feeling rather gloomy.

but after two glasses of red wine, he was making the situation seem a lot funnier than it was.

“he tried to pay with a coupon that was one year out of date,” you snorted, pulling your knees up to your chest to carry on painting your toenails.

aurelien sighed as he took the nail varnish off you, grabbing your foot and opening the lid. “you could have called me. i would have picked you up.”

it was true that you didn’t want your date to drop you off home, but he insisted. he didn’t try anything in the car other than talking about how ‘sexy’ you looked. you were greatful you lived in apartment blocks otherwise he would know your actual address.

“it wasn’t the worst date i’ve been on. do you remember elio?”

aurelien laughed at the distant memory of the guy who had ditched you in the middle of nowhere because his girlfriend had called because she was in labour.

when the laughter died down and aurelien had finished painting your nails, he frowned when he noticed the look on your face.

“what is it, anjo?” aurelien grabbed your hand and rubbed circles on your skin, eyes wide as he tried to meet yours. “is there something about me?”

“no, no. you’re perfect. it’s them that have the problems, not you.”

he knew that if he was the one taking you on a date, you’d be treated like royalty.

the pair of you had been friends since children but you had moved to madrid for work as a nurse for the real madrid team.

when aurelien told you of his transfer, you were over the moon and he was the one that suggested the idea of moving in together.

you agreed. rent was a lot cheaper when there was two people paying and there would always be someone there to talk to.

but the thing with aurelien was that he didn’t want to be just a friend you came home to after a long day. he wanted to be more than that. someone you shared a bed with and shared a toothbrush holder with.

and you were the same.

the reason you were going on so many dates recently was because you were trying to fill the hole in your heart.

it only wanted aurelien, no body else.

“thanks. for always being there.”

aurelien softly smiled at you, holding his arms out for you. you settled down onto his chest, closing your eyes and letting yourself fall asleep.

aurelien knew he had to tell you one way or another. but he was so nervous.

all day he had been stuttering over his words, so much that you thought he had developed a speech problem overnight.

you both ate dinner together, and even though you were rather chatty, aurelien wasn’t being his usual goofy self.

“aurelien? what’s wrong? you’ve been acting weird all day,” you murmured, placing your hand on top of his.

he pulled away almost automatically and ran it through his hair, blinking rapidly. “i-i don’t know.”

“come on, you can tell me anything,” you frowned when he refused to make eye contact with you and you could also see his chest rising and falling at a fast pace.

“do you remember when we were kids? i told everyone that one day i was going to marry you.”

the fond memory came to mind and you giggled at the image of a young aurelien down on one knee in front of everyone in the playground.

“how can i forget that?”

aurelien felt his stomach tighten and the sudden urge to be sick came over him. it was no or never and he needed to calm down.

with a deep breath, he stuttered over his words, “i want that to be a reality. not just some memory in a playground, i want it to be the best memory of your life. but the real thing, not the fake thing from when we were kids.”

you looked at him like he had two heads. “you want us to get married?”

“no, no,” he repeated firmly, “not yet, anyway.” he didn’t break eye contact, breath shortening as he finally let out the thing that had been weighing him down for months.

“it’s you. it’s always been you. i am so very in love with you and i don’t think i can stop.”

you stared at him in disbelief. the thing you had been wanting to say for a while had come out of his mouth, which you never expected in a million years.

he grabbed your hips with his hands, sighing as he muttered, “i just want you. every single bit of you.”

“you’ve got me, aurelien. i love you too.”

aurelien smiled at you and suddenly everything felt so much better.

you were his now and he was your’s.

#aurelien tchouameni x reader #aurelien tchouameni #aurélien tchouaméni #tchouameni #real madrid #football x reader #football imagines #football #request #requested fic

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cowpokeomens · 4 months

Text

absolution

Pairing: Pastor!Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!! A looot of references to religion (it all takes place in a church, so), smut smut smut (p-in-v) I'm including dubcon bc consent is weird with power dynamics, age gaps (10 yr) (everyone is of legal age though!!), some body horror stuff, power imbalance, I think that's all but if you come across something that I missed please reach out so I can tag accordingly!!! Love u bye!!!

A/N: This was really cathartic to write lmao I have a sprinkling of Religious Trauma and this helped me work through some of those feelings in my own weird horny way. It is porn, please don't start expecting me to be some kinda respectable writer with plotlines or whatever. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS. Okay enjoy!!!!

The guilt of it is eating you alive.

The pressure between your legs- the raw, empty ache that plagues you day in and day out. Sitting on your pew, you are once again swept away by long, glossy hair and inked knuckles, turning sacred pages of a holy book that can do nothing to hold your attention at this moment.

What an impression of Christ he makes, you think to yourself, sounding hypnotized even in your internal monologue.

He arrived when you were 19, to your small town, to your even smaller church. The rest of the folks in town think your congregation is too… fanatical. You can’t imagine a world in which someone could be over-zealous for the word of God, and even so, Pastor Karlsson had done a lot to level the congregation out.

He was a divorcee, not by his choice, he has said. He was only 29 when he first rolled into town, funny accent and even funnier sounding name causing immediate distrust in your tight-knit community.

But God, did he have a testimony. Sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll, the tattoos adorning his body told you the story better than those gaudy stained glass windows in the snobby Catholic churches ever could. A lecherous lifestyle with a woman who didn’t love him, not really - not the way you do. He had humbled himself to you all, and you gladly let him in. He was made a pillar in your community - he became a leader to the congregation.

Which is why you always suppressed your feelings, putting them in a locked sarcophagus and hurling it to the far recesses of your mind. You will not be the thing that tries to come between him and the Lord.

You look up at him as he speaks, standing at the pulpit and wielding the word of God like the Archangel Michael who so valiantly struck down Satan. He who is made in God’s image; Had it not been for your utter devotion to the Lord, you would have wondered if he could sin at all.

But you knew better. Everyone carried their own sins. You had heard stories of husbands and wives who idolized each other so much that they left the church altogether. Your heart broke at the thought of leaving God’s light to worship something as sinful as human flesh, couldn’t imagine risking an eternity of paradise for what would one day be dust.

Not that you’d know, of course. You’d never felt the touch of a man outside of when Pastor Karlsson baptized you the day before your 21st birthday. It had been fuel for weeks, his gentle hand on your back, guiding you underneath the water of the river that ran out behind the church. You had stuffed yourself full of your own fingers that night, stuffed your mouth full of bed linens so that no one would hear how you came undone at the mere thought of him.

Perhaps you are the lecherous one, after all. Though you can’t help but think that God has given you Pastor Karlsson on purpose, as a test of your faith. A test that you believed you were passing, for the most part. You haven’t missed a Sunday sermon since you caught the flu in 2021, and even so, you watched the livestreams on Facebook. You keep your nose in your Bible, and ignore the clench in your gut when he tells you good morning.

This morning is different.

This morning is worse.

You just come off of your period- disgusting and uncomfortable as it was, you are thankful it was over and you can enjoy the rest of your June in peace. But it lingers under your skin, an itch that can’t be scratched. Your emotions are raw, and you burst into tears twice this week, unprompted. Worst of all is the ache.

You didn’t know you could feel so empty. It claws at your insides like a caged beast, mockingly calling in the voice of Moloch himself, “Fill me up, fill me up.”

You threw yourself headfirst into your studies; you reviewed Ecclesiastes as a way to ground yourself, to remind yourself that this was a temporary feeling, and would pale in comparison to the absolution of Heaven.

Still, sitting in your pew, you felt the hunger gnashing at you, gnawing at your throat. It was overwhelming, all-consuming. You stutter through your hymnal, barely reading half the words. Your mother keeps giving you concerned looks, your father aloof as ever. Halfway through the sermon, she hisses in your ear, “What is the matter with you?”

You blink up at her, wide-eyed, and stammer out a “I - I don’t know. I feel… weird.”

She purses her lips, but says nothing, turning back to Pastor Karlsson in the pulpit.

You pass the time in silence, feeling itchy and hot, until the sermon concludes, and everyone makes a mass exodus to the dirt lot where their cars are parked.

“Hold on.” Your mother stops you as you begin exiting your pew.

She walks over and, to your utter horror, greets Pastor Karlsson, pulling him aside and speaking to him in hushed tones. He nods once, glancing at you, then nods again as she steps away. She looks grateful, patting his shoulder in that way that mothers do.

He looks at you then, and his full attention is enough to make you combust. Suddenly your dress is too tight on your chest, your breasts straining with every breath against the linen that encases you. Your bones itch, but your hands stay resolutely tucked into your sides, your Bible held against your chest.

You’re so busy focusing on breathing that you don’t realize he’s walking towards you until he’s right in front of you, smiling warmly while greeting you by name. Your mother is by his side, looking at you in such a way that tells you she had something to do with this interaction.

“Darling, Pastor Karlsson here wants a word with you. He even said he’d give you a ride back to the house! I’ll set aside a plate for you at home, you two take your time here.” She was smiling in a way that made all of her teeth visible, like a snarling animal. A lead brick settles in your stomach at the expression as you look up at Pastor Karlsson.

He was so tall, you think as you peer up at him. Dark eyes meet yours, making your gaze flicker away to something else- anything else to avoid the intensity you find there. Looking directly into his eyes was like looking into the maw of a starving beast- you weren’t brave enough to even consider it.

Your mother departs with a final “Wonderful sermon, Joakim, thank you!” Flashing one of her pageant smiles at him - one she’s never given your father - as she goes.

He nods politely, murmuring a quiet, “All the glory to God.” before turning back to you. He gives you a thoughtful look before he speaks again.

“Your mother is concerned about you.” His tone was not accusatory or pointed, just repeating facts.

You inhale shakily. “Yeah, I feel kind of weird today.” Admitting to such a thing is not a lie - you do feel weird today.

He nods, as if understanding. Then, “Would you like to speak in my office? I have to pick up a few things, then we can head out.”

The thought of being in an enclosed space with him made you almost pass out, but you persevere, giving a meek nod as you follow him out of the sanctuary.

It was a short walk from the sanctuary to his office, your church is small, even among small churches. You love its modesty; It is a far cry from the towering spires and flying buttresses you saw in your history books back in school, but it has a self-effacing quality that makes it approachable to people from all walks of life.

The walls are painted white, though slightly yellowed with age. Dark wood lines the floor, blue carpet cushioning your steps as you walk. There aren’t many windows - it was built for insulation, not sight-seeing, after all. Crosses hang sporadically throughout the hallways, some wooden, carved by members, others purchased at a discount at the craft stores a few towns over.

His office is a glorified coat closet, something the elders threw together haphazardly when God called him to serve. It fit a desk, a desktop computer that was older than dirt, and two chairs, one on either side of the desk. The carpet is green, the walls beige, and you have always thought it is an entirely unbecoming space for such a Godly man. It’s a good thing he was humble; God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble, you think, almost bitterly, as he sits down in the chair by the computer. You make a mental note to work on your own humility as you sit down in the chair opposite him.

“So, what’s got you feeling weird?” He asks with a small smile, putting his elbows on the desk and lacing his fingers together. His hair falls over his shoulders with the movement, cascading down in a curtain of silk. You remind yourself to breathe.

Stammering, you try to explain yourself. “I’m- I’m not sure, Pastor Karlsson-”

“Joakim.” He interrupts you gently.

You blink at him, confusion evident in your face. He must find something about the expression amusing, because he’s smiling softly and continuing, “You can call me Joakim. We’re both grown-ups here.”

You swallow loudly, the sound all but ricochets in the stillness of the room. “R-right. I’m not really sure why I feel so weird. I just had a really hard time focusing today.” You suddenly realize what you’ve said, correcting yourself quickly. “Not that the sermon wasn’t good! Your sermons are always wonderful, Pastor Karls - Joakim.”

He’s smiling broadly now, clearly entertained by your flailing. “It’s okay, käresta, I understand what you mean." A pause, then he lowers his hands. "Is there something on your mind specifically? Something that’s preventing you from focusing?”

You go still, scared to breathe too fully, lest it give you away. Your eyes slide to the ground, teeth coming out to gnaw at your lip. You can feel your heart racing in your throat- the throbbing sensation makes you wonder if you’ll actually vomit from anxiety. You freeze further when Joakim places a hand on your arm, gently.

His voice is barely audible when he whispers, “Hey, it’s okay. We all have our sins, and sin is sin -”

“- Is sin.” You finish for him, sounding unconvinced. You take a deep breath, then redirect your gaze back to him. His eyes are soft with concern, mouth pulled into the faintest frown. Hating to imagine you’re the reason he’s so upset, you blurt out before you can even process your words.

“I’ve been having lustful thoughts about a man in the congregation.” Once the words have been said, you fight the urge to grab them clean out of the air and stuff them back into your mouth.

The hand on your arm tenses for half a second, then relaxes again. “Okay.” He begins calmly, pulling his hand back to the table. You resist the urge to whimper at the loss of contact. “I can see where your concern is coming from. Is this man married?”

There were only so many unmarried men in the congregation; it would be an easy elimination if you were truthful. But... You were already coming clean about one sin, no need to add on others, you reasoned. Shaking your head in a negative, you give a meek, “No, he’s not.”

Joakim nods thoughtfully, staying silent for a moment. You can all but see the gears turning in his mind, deducing who it could be. You wonder if he lists himself amongst the unmarried men- or if he is courting some woman, unbeknownst to you all. No, your mind fired at you venomously. He is not the sort of man to slink around in the shadows.

Finally, he spoke. “While lust is never something to give full rein to, it is understandable, biologically speaking.” Upon seeing your confusion, he offers another soft smile, continuing. “You’re at an age where your body wants you to have children. It is what God made you for, it’s only natural that someone as devoted as you are would respond strongly to His plan. You’re not doing anything wrong, käresta.”

Relief floods your body, making your shoulders sag at the loss of tension. You aren’t doing anything wrong, Joakim even told you so. But that makes you wonder- is there anything you should be doing? You’re about to ask when he speaks again.

“I’ve been wanting to speak with you privately for a while now.” He huffs a small laugh. “It seems the Lord thought today would be a good time, so it shall be.”

You straighten your shoulders, sitting up, wanting to make sure he knows he has your full attention. Looking at him fully, you’re not surprised why your body is so responsive to him. He’s so handsome, even with the shadow of dark stubble on his face. You wonder what keeps him up at night, which chapters he gets stuck on for days before clarity dawns on him. It’s no mystery why your body is putting thoughts of lust in your mind; he’s the sort of man who would make a wonderful father.

You cut off that train of thought, needing to focus on the present moment. He needs your full attention for whatever he’s going to say next.

“The Lord has been communicating with me for some months now, on the topic of finding a wife.” You both take deep breaths, though for different reasons, you imagine. “You’ve heard my testimony on my previous marriage, so I don’t need to emphasize how much I’ve prayed about this.”

Your heart breaks, shatters, combusts into nothing but ash at his words. The Lord wants him to find a wife, and it sounds like he has someone in mind. You swallow the lump of bile in your throat, trying to listen to his next words as your guts fight the natural inclination to stay in your body.

“I’ve spoken to God a lot, the last few months- even by pastor standards.” The playful smile he gives you feels like a knife twisting in your chest. “And if I’m understanding his message correctly, I believe God wants me to court you.”

You’re so busy wallowing that you don’t understand what he’s said at first. The words sink in slowly, like the drip of an IV into your veins. When you think you understand, you manage a, “What?”

He chuckles, not a degrading sound, rather like he understands your confusion. “I know, it seems sudden, but I’ve been speaking to the Lord about this for many months, and-”

“Oh my goodness.” You interrupt as realization hits you like a freight train. “No - I know. I know. Because God has been speaking to me, too.”

Joakim’s brow furrows at you, and it feels nice to not be the confused one for once.

You continue, looking up at him shyly. “The… lustful thoughts I’ve been having, they-” You pause, building up your courage. “They’re about you.”

He’s frozen, mouth slightly agape as he processes your confession. His head tilts to the side slightly, eyes darker than usual as he asks, “You’ve been having lustful thoughts about… me?”

You nod, cheeks tinged pink. “When you’re in the pulpit - I try to focus, I really do, but my mind wanders to… other things.”

You should be embarrassed, should be ashamed of admitting something so unbecoming. But the comfort of this being God’s plan washes away any ill regards you have about the situation; this is what He has always intended.

“Other things?” He echoes, eyes focused on you intensely. His voice is hushed, only loud enough for the two of you to hear. “Like what?”

Your blush deepens at his inquiry. “Well, it’s more of a feeling than an exact thought…”

He’s leaning forward now, all but hanging over his desk at your words. He looks hungry, you realize suddenly; Like he’d seen firsthand the famine in Canaan, pupils blown wide, mouth open, breathing slowly. “A feeling?” He prompts.

Nodding, you find yourself leaning forward too, almost desperate to close the gap between you both. You can feel the dust in the air, hear the quiet electric hum of his old desktop computer. Your breath is coming too loudly, it ricochets off the walls around you both. “It feels like an ache.” You explain, sounding hoarse. “It feels like an emptiness.”

He takes a shaky breath, pushing himself back from his desk in a controlled motion. Standing up, he makes his way around the desk to stand in front of you, one of his calloused hands guiding your chin up to look at him.

“Do you want me to help you - with the emptiness? The ache?” He questions, eyes boring into yours.

The thought of it makes your thighs clench together, and the feeling is so delicious that you almost vocalize it. Your mouth is dry, but you feel wetness gathering in your cotton panties already. You almost forget to respond, nodding and breathing out, “Yes, please.”

“Always so well-mannered.” He praises, making you feel warm. You would do just about anything for him to keep going.

The hand on your jaw guides you upward until you’re standing in front of him. You’re not touching, but you can feel the heat emanating from his body, feel the way the air vibrates between you. His eyes travel down to your lips, back up to your eyes, then down to your lips again.

“Have you ever kissed a boy, lillis?” He asks, eyes half-lidded and voice quiet.

You shake your head, a tiny movement. “No.” You pause, then decide to continue. “I wanted to save myself.”

His inhale is sharp, deep. “Such a good girl.” The words light a fire in your belly, and the familiar gnawing is back, worse than ever before. You shift on your feet, subconsciously searching for any kind of friction. He picks up on the movement.

“Do you feel empty, now? Are you desolate?” You can feel where his breath hits your face. If you tilted your head right, your lips would meet. The clothes you’re wearing feel itchy - too tight, too rough.

You can’t speak, so you nod “yes.” His eyes run down your figure, back up again to your lips.

“Show me where.” Is his only command. You can’t read his expression fully, features arranged into careful neutrality. The spark in his eyes seemed to hint at desperation, though.

Your face is probably the color of a sun-ripened tomato, but you do as he says, grabbing his free hand, guiding it between your legs. His fingers curl up through your skirt, cupping your mound. Your eyelids flutter shut at the contact, hands coming up to rest against his chest to steady yourself. Heartbeat racing, you don’t think there could be anything better than the feeling of what’s happening right now.

“Here? Is this where you feel empty?” His lips move against your cheek, breath fanning across your ear, making you shiver.

You blink several times, trying to clear your head. “Joakim, please.” Is all you can muster, fingers gripping at his shirt.

You can feel him sag against you as his lips crash into yours. You’re not completely sure of what to do, allowing him to guide your lips open, licking into your mouth. You hear yourself groaning into the kiss, crowding impossibly closer until your bodies are pressed against each other fully.

He breaks the embrace to place wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck. The feeling is euphoric, making your hips buck into his without conscious decision.

Hands run down your sides, coming up again underneath your dress skirt to grip at the backs of your thighs, yanking you forward with such force that you almost topple over. His left hand is at your back in an instant, holding you steady before unzipping the back of your dress in a swift motion.

The material pools around your front, hanging loosely until you pry it off, happy to be rid of the too-rough fabric at last. His lips are back on yours in an instant, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other kneads the flesh of your breast through your bra.

You outright moan at the feeling, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as your mouth opens to let the sound out. He works a knee between your legs, rubbing the meaty flesh of his thigh against your core in such a way that has you seeing spots in your vision. Fingers curling into claws where they grip onto his shoulders, you grind down onto his leg, an animalistic snarl escaping you as you do so.

You know this feeling; Though it’s a sin to give into lust, you’ve made yourself climax before, silently, long after everyone had laid down to rest at night. This is so much more, though - you feel as though someone has soaked you in gasoline and laid a lit match to your flesh. Nothing could have torn you from the carnal desire you felt, being entwined with Joakim like this. You want to take turns ripping each other apart, severing limbs and gluing them back together until you have both been remade in His image. You want to bite and gnaw and lick until you taste blood, to soothe the worried skin with soft whispers and softer hands. Dragged to Hell and back, nailed to a cross and left to rot, rising from the dead with such vigor that Lazarus would envy you - you wanted it all, so long as this moment didn’t end.

“Joakim - I, I -” You choke out, eyes focusing on his, foreheads pressed together.

“Good girl, give it to me, everything you’ve got.” He urged you, the hand on your neck coming down against your hip, ushering your pelvis against his thigh.

Burying your head in his chest, you climax with a wanton moan, body shuddering through the shockwaves of it. Your breathing is labored, vision blurry from clenching your eyes shut so tightly.

He’s gently prying you off his leg then, maneuvering your positions until you find yourself face-down on his desk. Using a knee, he nudges your knees apart until he fits comfortably between them. The new angle has you feeling vulnerable, visible, licentious.

You don’t have time to dwell on the feeling, because suddenly his fingers are playing with your folds through your ruined panties. Your knees almost buckle at the stimulation, so sensitive it almost hurts. Gripping the other side of the desk to hold yourself upright, you do your very best to stay still as he explores your body.

Two fingers hook into the side of your panties, moving them to the side. You know he can see everything like this, and while part of you is screaming at the debauchery of it, another, louder part of you hopes he likes what he sees. You’re fighting the urge to sneak a glance at him when the two fingers that moved your panties aside are thrust deep into your core.

You let out a howl that could rival a rabid dog, nails scraping against the wooden laminate of the desk as your hands clench into fists. He’s curling his fingers inside you slowly, and you can feel every millimeter of it. A string of drool escapes your open mouth, cascading down into a puddle on a stack of prayer requests from this morning’s sermon.

“That’s it, so good, just take it, lillis.” He murmurs, fingers still unfurling deep inside you.

You don’t know that you can do anything but take it. His fingers are so much thicker than yours, taking up twice as much space as you’re used to. You feel wonderfully full, the emptiness inside you finally satiated.

But then he’s pulling them out, and you almost sob at the loss of it. You could feel your hole clenching on nothing, throbbing with want; Whether you enjoy it or not, you aren’t even sure.

You hear a zipper, then the sound of something metallic hitting the carpet. When you turn your neck to see what’s happening, you’re met with the sight of Joakim’s full manhood on display.

You’ve never seen a man naked before. There were pictures, shown to you unwillingly by the cruel boys who called you a “Bible-thumper” in school, but this is entirely different.

Joakim is… prettier, you think is the right word. His tip is pink, almost red, and wet-looking in the glow of the fluorescent office lights. Veins bulge along the length, throbbing at you angrily as if to mock the throbbing happening within you. It’s big, you realize suddenly. You can’t begin to fathom how it’s going to fit inside you, when his fingers alone made you feel so full already.

A hand is placed at the back of your neck, holding you flat in place. The weight is reassuring, grounding in its pressure as you’re pressed fully against the desk, the cool laminate a welcome reprieve from the fever burning in your skin. You feel him press his tip against your folds, running it through the slickness there, before slowly pushing past your threshold.

“It hurts.” Is the first thing you whine, legs already trembling. It does hurt - in a sharp way, like stretching to reach your toes first thing in the morning.

You gasp as he leans over, thrusting further into you as he whispers in your ear. “Shh, I know. It’s the price we must pay for our sin.” His murmur relaxes you a bit, reassures you of what you’re doing. Joakim would not lead you astray; God had spoken to him, given him fortitude in the last months. This was His plan.

The stretch continues as he slowly slides further into you, until your bodies are joined completely. You’re panting, open-mouthed as he fills you entirely. Your toes are barely brushing against the ground from how far he’s pushed you into the desk, corners digging into your hips sharply.

A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, unraveling the muscles that have been pulled taut with anticipation. Your breathing slows, body easing around the intrusion until only the sensation of fullness remains.

Joakim pulls back then, a slow movement that has you inhaling harshly as he drags along your inner walls. Your mouth goes to ask him what he’s doing, when he slams back into you, cutting off your train of thought in favor of gargling on your breath.

“Oh my God,” You keen, eyes so wide they might bulge out of your head altogether.

A jarring slap lands against your backside, stinging skin left in its wake. “Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.” Joakim rasps, sounding as out of breath as you do.

He pulls back again, only to crash back into you a half-second later. The force of it jolts you, making you wail as your hands reach out for something, anything to hold onto. Documents and envelopes fly onto the floor in your frenzy, looking as haphazard as you feel.

He continues at an unrelenting pace, hand still firmly gripping the base of your neck from behind. You know you’re being loud; A distant part of you even registers that, given the circumstances, you should probably be much, much quieter. You can’t bring yourself to care, though, an endless chant of Joakim’s name falling from your lips as you do what you can to grind back into him.

The hand leaves your neck, coming down to grab onto your hip while his other hand mirrors the action. Your pelvis is lifted off the desk, thrusts never even pausing as the new angle drives him deeper into you. Tears spring in your eyes from the overstimulation, having climaxed only a few short minutes ago.

This is absolution, You think. Being tangled together, conjoined like this - There is no fear of sin, no guilt at succumbing to the lust-filled desires of the flesh. As Joakim plunges himself into you, over and over, you find yourself almost dizzy with relief at the weight lifted off your shoulders, the panic of condemnation a distant memory.

His arm wraps around the front of your hips, holding you in place, as his free hand tangles into your hair, yanking your head towards him.

“Say the Lord’s prayer.” He groans in your ear, breath hot and sticky. “Beg for His forgiveness. ‘Our Father-’”

“‘-Who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.” You whimper, the words slipping off your tongue like muscle memory as your body is rocked back and forth by his thrusts. “‘Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth-” Your voice is cut off by your own gasp as he reaches something in you that you’ve never felt before. Knees shaking, you dig your fingers deeper into the mess of papers surrounding you to try and stabilize yourself.

“Keep going. ‘On Earth, as it is in Heaven.’” He urges, grip tightening on you.

“‘Give us today our daily bread,’” You continue, moaning pitifully as he drives into that same spot again. “‘And forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.’”

Tears stream freely down your cheeks now, a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation driving you mad. Joakim is mouthing at the junction of your neck and shoulder, tongue brushing over a spot that makes you shiver into him. A fire is building in your belly, lapping at the bottom of your throat as you move closer and closer to climax.

“‘L-lead us not into temp- temptation,’” You stutter, mind hazy with want. “‘But d-deliver us from evil.’”

Joakim’s voice is back in your ear. “‘For thine is the Kingdom,” A harsh thrust, “‘The Power,” Another thrust, “And the Glory forever.’”

The fire burns so hot that it rips the oxygen straight out of your lungs. Your eyes struggle to stay open, fluttering closed each time he rams into you. A particularly harsh pull of your hair reminds you that he is waiting for your response.

“Amen.” You whisper, vision going white as you climax, body twitching forcefully in his arms. His hips stutter once before he buries himself inside you, spilling his seed into you as he does.

Whether you lay there for seconds or days, you don’t know. Eventually, Joakim pulls out, a string of his release coming with him, rolling down the inside of your thighs. You whimper at the loss, still too sensitive to move.

“C’mon, käresta, we need to get you dressed. Your mother will wonder where you are.” His voice is gentle behind you, hand rubbing against your lower back to rouse you.

Your joints pop in protest as you try to push yourself up off the desk. The room is a mess of papers and scattered writing utensils, your dress nothing more than a rumpled pile of cloth on the ground.

You slip it over your head gingerly, every muscle in your body somehow sore. Joakim zips up the garment for you, running his hands over your clothed back, as if to smooth the wrinkles.

Turning to face him, you’re met with a soft pair of lips to your forehead, dark hair brushing against your cheeks. The kiss makes you feel brave as you ask, “Joakim?”

His eyes are warm as he gazes down at you, his fingers coming up to comb through your tangled hair. “Hmm?” Is his response as he works out a particularly knotted strand.

You flutter your eyelashes, a move that feels foreign, but somehow right. Looking up at him demurely, you ask, “Will you be leading tonight’s Bible study?”

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