Hope

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Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here ! / Part 17 Here! / 

Part 18 Here! / Part 19 Here! / Part 20 here! / Part 21 Here! / Part 22 Here! / 

Part 23 Here! / Part 24 Here! / Part 25 Here! / Part 26 Here! / Part 27 Here! / 

Part 28 Here!  / Part 29 Here! / Part 30 Here! / Part 31 Here!/ Part 32 Here! / Part 33 Here! / Part 34 Here! / Part 35 Here! / Part 36 Here! / Part 37 Here! / Part 38 Here!

Legend:

{Bold and Underlined = Published and linked },

minors do not interact - 18+

contents: fem/afab! reader, daddy kink, watching porn, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, hint of breeding kink, porn with no plot whatsoever

note: this might be absolute dookie but i had to get it off my chest, save me daddy pope!!! <3

when andrew sees it for the first time, he can’t take his eyes off you – or, more specifically, off that patch of your warm , smooth skin, now adorned with black ink. his hands are on your body within seconds. his calloused fingers brush against your skin, never touching the tattoo itself.

"do you like it?" you ask shyly, watching his face "i got it especially for you, andy" you whisper, moving closer and pressing your soft body against his muscular one.

"for me?" he asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours, looking at you almost like a sad puppy.

"yes" you reply, kissing his jawline, nestling your cheek into the hollow of his neck "so that everyone knows i’m only yours, andy. no one else, just yours."

those words have an immediate effect on him.

suddenly, you’re in his strong arms, held so close that you can’t breathe properly; your lips are being devoured by his, and the two-piece bikini you were wearing is now lying on the stone floor by the pool.

megumi is incredibly touch deprived, especially so around his neck and throat.

obviously, you love using that fact to your advantage.

and as much as he protests that he hates it, he and you both know that he loves it.

the other night, you two were laying in his bed as he went on a nerdy rant about pokemon. his arm was loosely wrapped around your waist, your head resting against his chest.

despite how much you love hearing him talk about subjects he was passionate about, you were growing a little bored of his chatter and decided to tease him a little.

you tilted your head up, pressing soft, slow kisses to the side of his neck, and the sensitive spots around his ear.

“so it’s- ah.. i mean, th-the water types and fire types- uh..” megumi stammers quietly, entire train of thought completely wrecked.

he feels you grin against his skin, amused with yourself. “quit it.” he mumbles.

you hum, innocently glancing up at him. “mm, sorry. what were you saying?” you ask, smiling sweetly.

“you don’t care.” he grumbles, not looking at you.

“don’t say that.” you lower your head to his neck again, gently mouthing at his soft skin.

he releases a soft, shaky breath, voice low and controlled. “… if you wanted me to pay attention to you, you coulda just said.”

you don’t reply, continuing to gently suck at his neck, trailing down to his collarbone. he shivers, bringing a hand to the back of your head, keeping you there.

“feels good.” he murmurs, voice a low vibration in your ear.

you just smile, satisfied in knowing that your boyfriend would melt for you at such an easy touch.

what can he say? he’s a simple man.

a/n - a little short but it was on my mind <3

E | cw - slight manipulation, jacks got a thing for pregnancy but like nothing nsfw, eluded intimidation/threats

2:06 AM

I’m thinking of Jack Abbot who loves his new pregnant neighbor.

He doesn't think he’s seen a more beautiful pregnant woman than you, even with swollen feet that were always in slippers or sandals, or how your face was fuller than the older pictures he’d seen of you. He’d thought you looked amazing as you were, an amazing creator of life, who just shone with natural and effortless beauty, as life itself.

He easily found himself helping you with everything and anything before going to work every day. Moving your new furniture around, putting together the nursery, and helping you paint- basically any manual labor your deadbeat boyfriend was supposed to be doing.

That was a sore subject to him; he would get irrationally angry and possessive when he did come around, asking for handouts and overall douchebaggery he did not appreciate or warrant for this new age of boys. You seemed to never notice Jack's sudden abrasiveness towards your boyfriend, but then again, everyone was so it wasn’t much of a difference as with everyone else.

You were struggling with the decision of keeping your baby daddy in your life and soon to be born childs life. Embarrassed to be walking around with no father, but not ready to let him be in your child’s life if he kept up the way he was. Jack was adamant about not giving you his opinion, kept saying ‘it’s obvious, sweetheart, but I can’t be the one to tell you.’ Or ‘you wouldn’t care for what I think, it’s a little outdated’

The whole time, he just wants to put on a shotgun wedding and make you his before that baby comes so his last name is on both of you— but that’s not exactly feasible with that lowlife hanging around, so it’s about time he’d stop.

His weight feels perfect, heavy in the best way, chest pressed flush to yours so you feel every breath he takes. One of his hands cradles the side of your face, thumb stroking slow circles over your cheekbone, while the other grips your hand tightly. His cock is buried deep inside you and he rocks into you with these slow thrusts that drag against every sensitive inch. He’s never in a rush. Never.

“Megumi…” Your voice comes out shaky as he pushes in again slowly. Your walls flutter around him and he lets out this quiet breath against your neck.

“Shh.. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, voice low and a little rough. He pulls back until just the tip is stretching you open, then sinks back in so deep your toes curl. Every thrust is thought through, his hips rolling in this steady rhythm that grinds his pelvis against your clit on every downstroke. He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, breath hot against your skin.

“Look at me.”

You do. Those dark blue eyes are half-lidded and locked on yours. He squeezes your hand harder and thrusts a little deeper, angling his hips until he hits that spot that makes your back arch. A soft, needy sound slips out of you, he swallows it with a slow kiss, tongue brushing yours like he’s tasting how good you feel.

“Fuck, you’re... so perfect,” he whispers against your lips. Your thighs tremble around his waist, yet he doesn’t speed up, he just keeps that same devastatingly slow pace, grinding in circles while he’s buried into you, letting you feel every inch of him stretching you, worshipping you. Your free hand slides down to grip his ass, pulling him closer and he makes this low sound in his throat.

“Yeah… just like that.” He presses his forehead to yours, breathing with you as the pleasure builds heavy in your belly. Every time he pulls out, your pussy clenches like it doesn’t want to let him go. Every time he pushes back in, you feel so full it borders on too much. You’re getting close, your legs are shaking, your breath is coming in short gasps. Megumi notices, of course he does. He shifts just a fraction, changing the angle and starts rocking into that perfect spot over and over, still slow but firmer now.

“Come on,” he says quietly, voice strained. “Let me feel you. I want to feel you come around me.”

It hits you hard, waves of pleasure crashing through your body as your pussy spasms tight around his cock, soaking him. You moan his name into his shoulder, nails digging into his back as he keeps moving through it. Only then does he let himself chase it. His thrusts get a little deeper, a little less controlled, hips stuttering as he buries his face in your neck.

“I love you,” he breathes. “Fuck… I love you.”

He comes with a quiet groan, cock pulsing inside you as he fills you up. He stays there afterward, your bodies still locked together and breathing hard.

you’re half-sprawled across the living-room couch, one knee hooked over the back cushions, the other leg dangling off the edge.

caleb is between your thighs, jeans shoved down just far enough, his shirt still on because neither of you had the patience to get fully undressed.

he’s been fucking you slow and deep for a while now, long rolling thrusts that make the couch cushions shift under you every time he pushes in.

you’re already a mess, shirt shoved up under your chin, one of his hands occasionally sliding down to squeeze your breast or grip your hip and pull you harder onto him.

it’s too good, the kind of good that makes your thoughts go soft and stupid, you’re clutching at his shoulders, nails digging in, and the next time he drives in deep and grinds there for a second, the words just fall out of you on a broken moan.

“i love you—”

caleb freezes.

mid-thrust. still buried inside you, his eyes lock onto yours, wide and dark, like he didn’t quite hear it right, the only sound for a second is both of you breathing hard and the soft creak of the couch.

then a low, chuckle leaves him.

“you love me?”

he pulls almost all the way out then sinks back in to the hilt with one firm stroke that makes your head tip back against the cushions, his forehead drops to yours, voice rough and close, a little shaky under the heat.

“well fuck… i’ve loved you ever since.”

he starts moving again, deeper now, like the confession just unlocked something, every thrust is harder, more intentional, the couch rocking under the two of you.

“since we were kids building forts in your backyard. since every sleepover where i had to pretend i wasn’t staring at you the whole time. since the first time i realized i wanted to be the one who got to touch you like this.” his hips snap forward, punching a soft cry out of you.

“i’ve wanted you for so fucking long it made me crazy. every time you hugged me. every time you laughed at something only i said. i’ve been dying to hear you say it, didn’t expect you’d say it while i’m inside you.”

he chuckles then shifts hooking one of your legs higher over his arm so he can get even deeper. the new angle makes you gasp, and he doesn’t let up, long strokes that keep you pinned to the couch.

“i’ve thought about this,” he mutters against your mouth, kissing you messy between words. “you under me. you saying you love me while i’m fucking you stupid. i’ve jerked off to the idea more times than i can count.” another hard thrust. “and now you’re actually said it. fuck, baby…”

one hand slides under your lower back, lifting you so he can grind deep and stay there for a second each time, making sure you feel every inch.

your fingers tangle in his hair, the other hand gripping the back of the couch for something to hold onto as he keeps talking telling you how many nights he lay awake wanting exactly this, how many times he almost kissed you and chickened out, how good it feels to finally have you open and wet and whispering that you love him while he ruins you on the couch you’ve both sat on a thousand times before.

the pace builds, the wet sound of him moving in and out of you fills the quiet living room, your moans get louder, less controlled, and he answers every one with another deep thrust and another soft “i love you too” against your skin, like he’s been waiting years to say it back while he was inside you.

your friends would always joke that no man would ever share a bed with you because of your snoring, always waking them up on sleepovers or vacations with your raspy breaths.

so the first time jack slept over at your house you’d felt the need to shyly warn him that you do snore and for him to wake you up if it gets too loud. without his precious police scanner humming in the background jack wonders if he will ever fall asleep. but after you shut your eyes for a while jack feels his own eyelids start to get heavy. the hums and crackles of your breathing serving as a small reminder that jack isn’t alone right now. he didn’t wake you up. he wouldn’t dare. he started to synchronize his breathing with yours. even in the pitch dark of your room he likes that can hear you here with him.

"It's beautiful! Was it expensive?" He holds it up to you, though you both know it'll fit perfectly. Zayne just knew all your measurements, you stopped questioning it a while ago.

"Don't worry about that. Do you want to try it on?" He offers, already stepping closer to help you undress. You're never embarrassed stripping in front of Zayne. You feel too comfortable around him to care, especially when he always looks at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

"Step into it?" He requests, so you rest a hand on his shoulder as you do, balancing yourself as he pulls up the bottom piece, before standing and helping you into the top.

He fusses with it for a moment, adjusting and making sure you're comfortable. When the nitpicky side of him is finally satisfied, he steps behind you and looks over your shoulder into the mirror.

"It's beautiful." You murmur, fingers brushing the soft lace. Zayne hums, cool hands finding your waist.

"You look beautiful." He whispers, already pulling you towards the bed. You fall onto it, Zayne close behind. He carefully pulls apart your legs, admiring you the whole time.

"You're insatiable, you know that?" You gasp as he fucks you, face buried in your shoulder. He hums in response, sucking a mark into the skin of your neck.

He's already close, just barely holding off when you cum hard, whimpering his name and stifling your moans by kissing him.

"Fuck!" He gasps as he pulls out, his cum making a mess between your thighs. You shiver at the sensation, while Zayne pulls back to admire you.

content warning: jack abbot x gn!reader. no use of y/n. fluff!!!! reader is referred to as 'bunny' once. word count: 0.4k.

"so, you hate me?" you ask, straightening up as jack walks right past you in the kitchen. you were bent down to get something from the cabinet beneath the sink — he walked right behind you... and didn't slap your butt.

not even a soft pat.

that obviously means your boyfriend hates you.

because not once since you've been going out, for a good chunk of months now, had this man walked past you and did not slap your ass. every single time. washing the dishes? slap. making dinner? slap. sweeping? slap. drinking water? slap. if you two were simply hanging out on the couch, the moment you stand up, slap. jack is simply obsessed with your ass, and it shows. sometimes even in public — those were obviously less of a slap and more of a gentle pat. like he just needed to put his hands on you, and somehow, it always on your butt.

jack stops mid step, turning around to face you. his handsome, wrinkled face has confused written all over it. "what?"

"you didn't slap my butt," you say, as if it's obvious. "you hate me."

"sweetheart—"

"you don't love me anymore!" you cut him off dramatically, throwing your arm up like a damsel in distress.

jack watches you, trying to figure out if you're serious or not. when he catches that slight tilt of your lips, he huffs out a chuckle, shaking his head. he walks back into the kitchen with that slow gait that makes you weak in the knees. because he knows the effect he has on you.

"i hate you, mhm?" jack says when he's close enough, trapping you between his body and the counter behind you. your heart picks up the pace, but you're not gonna let him throw you off just yet.

you tilt your chin up defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest. "yes, you do—" now, you're the one being cut off. by his lips.

jack grabs your jaw with one of his big hands, bringing you to his lips so he can devour you. his kiss is demanding, his tongue licking the seam of his lips. his other hand trails down your body, down to you hip. he grabs your ass, squeezing the flesh there. you melt against him, all that defiance leaving your body.

the bastard laughs into the kiss when you moan softly at his handling, his other hand going down to grab at your ass, too. he's rough, and you yelp against his lips when jack smacks your ass-cheek. "ouch,"