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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years ago

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hey:D ‼️ slashers x a femme bimbo reader? i would love michael, tommy, vincent+ bo, and jennifer? (whoever else u choose is fine) please and thank you!

Bimbo S/O Headcanons | Multiple Slashers (18+)

thank you for requesting, anon!

reader is assumed as being female and a bimbo

there’s no sex described, but there’s a lot of sexual talk around the reader, hence the smut tag

this includes : billy lenz, brahms heelshire, carrie white, jennifer check, michael myers, the sinclair twins & thomas hewitt

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

billy lenz

billy is a pervert by nature and would have sexualised you irrespective of how you acted or what you wore (when there’s a will, there’s a way and all of that)

but you being a bimbo made it all so much easier and so much more enjoyable for the unknown voyeur

it seemed like everything you did have him an erection as he stared at you through cracks in the ceiling and walls and doors

how your short pink skirt would ride up and show your pretty panties whenever you bent over or sat down

how your tight white shirt did little to hide your breasts or the fact that you’d opted to go braless

the way you frequently stumbled and tripped in those pink heels — exposing your ass to him more often than even he could have wished for

all of that was enough of a dream come true, but the moment you picked up the phone and he got a true exposure to your delightfully ditzy and naively trusting persona this man was a goner

you were his dream-girl through-and-through

his pretty piggy who’s only good at taking billy’s thick cock into her dumb holes

his bimbo that has no chance of escaping him or his lewd calls and comments

of course you were his the moment you stepped foot in his house, but you continuously exposing yourself for him (as he perceived it, anyway) just gave him the go ahead to claim you entirely

and you’d best believe that he’ll want you dressing as sluttily as possible at all times

bo sinclair

although he tends to present himself as the perfect southern gentleman at first glance, bo is a verifiable pervert with pretty much no shame

it would have taken a remarkable amount of self restraint for him to keep up the act in front of your group — especially with you looking and acting like that

tight shirt, mini skirt and a body that he just wanted to lose himself in

god it was like you were made for him, but that could wait until he had splintered your group

but until then, he sated himself by glancing down your top whenever you leaned forwards, lifting up your skirt whenever he got the chance and catching you whenever you tripped (getting away with many less-than-innocent touches due to your obliviousness)

his advances get more and more aggressive and obvious as your group is picked off one by one until you’re the only one left untouched and somehow still oblivious to your situation

and bo finds himself torn between keeping you around as an alibi and a good fuck, or just using and discarding you to vincent as he’d done before

in the end, of course, he ends up deciding to let you live whilst putting on a whole show of wooing you so that you think you’re staying willingly — justifying it by saying you’ll help future “tourists” feel at home

but his brothers can tell that he’s grown more than a little fond of your presence (beyond, even, your sex appeal and naïveté — shockingly to all involved, he actually seems to care)

brahms heelshire

you were not what anyone in the heelshire family were looking for when they sought out a nanny

you were clumsy and naive; not being able to do much in education or housework without inevitably messing something up

you were a veritable slut without the intent; with tiny skirts and translucent shirts that could barely even be considered clothing and that certainly weren’t conducive with the image they wanted to present as a family

but, to brahms, you were perfect

the perfectly dainty damsel in distress for him to leer and gawk at from behind the walls as you went about your day hopelessly attempting to abide by his schedule

and whilst you frequently forgot certain rules, he let you off — equally because he knew you weren’t acting intentionally and because he loved watching you too much to let you go

his favourite times of day were those that necessitated you coming into contact with water or bending over because they gave him the most wonderful views of your body that often appeared in his masturbation fantasies

loves the way you coo over and jokingly scold his doll — actually just loves hearing you say his name and talk to “him”

is much more possessive and protective when it comes to anyone bringing supplies to the house because of, well, everything about you

like it’s all well and good having a pretty little thing with nice tits and ass to stare at all day and night, but issues arise when somebody else gets to look at what’s his

and even if you’re too ditzy and naive to recognise the grocery boy’s intentions, brahms is all too aware of what goes on in a man’s head

and he may just take it upon himself to show everyone, including you, what happens when someone touches what belongs to him

carrie white

carrie was brought up in a highly conservative christian background — so, needless to say, your presence itself would be a significant shock to the poor girl

everything about you is a complete upturning of the values she was raised with, from your personality to the way you dressed

god, the way you dressed was sin personified and every time she caught herself staring she’d mutter a quick prayer for forgiveness

tight white shirts, short pink skirts and high pink heels — a recipe for disaster that she found herself drawn to

those miniskirts would so frequently ride up your thighs and expose your tiny pink panties to anyone who dared to look whenever you stalled in readjusting them (though they were always short enough to expose those thighs of yours)

those shirts that would turn wonderfully transparent whenever you got even slightly damp (be that through rain or spillage) and exposed your otherwise bare chest to prying eyes

those heels that were the cause of so many incidents like those above

and, values be damned, she was more thankful for your obliviousness than anything else as she didn’t know what she’d do if you recognised the way her peers leered at you

how she looked at you with so much lust, with eyes that lingered too long to be innocent on your chest and the apex of your thighs and your ass

how she thought of you whenever she touched herself, one hand balled up in a fist that she bit down on to muffle herself whilst the other crept between her legs to toy with her puffy lips and swollen clit and seeping hole

you, in all of your naïveté and clumsiness, were at the centre of all of her fantasies and she wanted nothing more than to keep you in the dark about it all for as long as possible

jennifer check

you and her will almost inevitably end up sharing clothing and/or accessories because your styles match so well

date nights will consist of you sharing skincare routines and doing each other’s makeup

she uses your nature and appearance to her benefit, ramping up her sexuality with you in public to help lure in men for her to kill and feed on

she repays you with plentiful sex, affection and spoiling with money she gets from her “boyfriends”

will shamelessly ogle you whenever you lean forwards or bend over and gets a kick out of flustering you just as much as when she gets away with being a complete perv

gropes you in public like all of the time and usually plays it off as innocent or accidental — would stop if you asked, though

50/50 whether she lets you in on what she’s doing so you can help or strings you along as an accomplice

loves how oblivious you are and gets off on the power dynamic between you and her as the more experienced, dominant partner

buys you the most transparent, slutty, short clothes that she can find for you both so you can match, she can get food, and she can see as much of you as possible at all times

she will shift targets on a dime if she notices someone getting too close to comfort and taking advantage you in the same way she does — and she makes a point to show everyone that you’re very much so taken

makes you wear underwear that she chooses so anyone else ogling you gets a blatant reminder of who you belong to

michael myers (any)

initially michael found your demeanour more annoying and inconvenient than anything else

you were attractive, of course, but your clumsiness and obliviousness just made him frustrated — made him want to stalk you to force you to notice the word around you

and he did. for well over a month

even going into your home and standing over you as you slept, rearranging things in your house, anything to get you to notice that something was up

but you never did

even when he confronted you on your walk home and started following you, very obviously, you just chatted with him as if nothing was wrong and how much of a coincidence it was you were going the same way

you even complimented his mask — which immediately made you more tolerable

and almost made up for the dozen times he’d watched you trip over thin air or otherwise expose yourself to people unintentionally

after a while he even became somewhat protective, targeting people that were sexually aggressive or otherwise weird towards you to get his frustrations out before returning to his routine of stalking you

at one point he began to masturbate to the sight of you — which he’d never been able to do given his life being spent entirely in an institution with no privacy

he takes full advantage of your naïveté to tease and manipulate you, especially after you realise who he is

he just signs that he won’t hurt you if you let him stay with you and don’t tell anyone he’s there

and you oblige

and he doesn’t hurt you

the only real change is having to deal with him shamelessly staring at you all of the time, but after you get together you don’t really mind so it’s not really that big of a deal

thomas hewitt

everything about you seems perfectly engineered to turn this poor man into a flustered, red-in-the-face, 404-ing mess

you’re not exactly what his mother had raised him to look for in a woman but that made you somehow more attractive? like a forbidden fruit in a sense

your high high heels that you constantly tripped over weren’t exactly made for life in their rural town but your confidence in them made him reluctant to have you change

those teeny-tiny shorts and skirts left nothing to the imagination when it came to those smooth, long legs and those brightly coloured thongs you wore and caused him a lot of trouble whenever he caught a glimpse of you and ended up dropping his tools

your thin white shirts that hoyt always managed to get wet somehow were incredibly form fitting and gave him the perfect view of your chest

but whilst your body and sexuality haunted his mind and left him wanting and guilty when he’d reach between his legs for relief at the end of the day — it was your demeanour that captured his heart and endeared him to you

your naïveté kept you up and out of the way of the family’s dirtier dealings and meant they didn’t have to hide anything too hard as you believed whatever they promised to you

he felt bad for lying but he also knew it was a necessary evil

and your clumsy nature meant that any guests felt more at ease around you, joking around and letting their guard down to flirt with you which made his job a whole lot easier

so, needless to say, you were definitely a good investment for the family even if you kept unintentionally torturing poor thomas with your displays of sexuality and femininity throughout the house

vincent sinclair

you immediately caught vincent’s eye when you entered ambrose because of how different you were from your companions

your clothes were more revealing and feminine: all light colours, cropped edges, frills, pastels and the whole nine yards

definitely a far cry from the muted neutrals and heavy jumpers that he usually saw

more artistically inspiring, barbie like even

it made you attractive, certainly, but it also made him want to preserve you as an art piece even more — he wanted to capture your beauty permanently

but then your personality endeared you to him

you were immediately kind and trusting towards his twin, which painted you as a very naïve person but the genuine way you defended him and scolded your friends for interrupting the “funeral” caught his heart

hell, even bo seemed taken a back by your demeanour (before trying to look down your shirt, of course)

and then there was the clumsiness that gave him the perfect view of each and every angle of your body that those short, tight clothes did little to hide as you stumbled and tripped over your heels in the museum

even gentlemen have their limits and, from what he justified as artistic curiosity, he indulged himself in plenty of looks

you even made him chuckle a few times when you apologised to the figures you fell onto

all of it, to him, made you seem so much better than your companions — someone worth saving and keeping as a living art piece in ambrose

it wouldn’t be hard to convince his brothers, they were always talking about needing some company

and, beside, you didn’t strike him as the sort to be hard to lie to

so if you believed your friends abandoned you, maybe you’d be happy to stay with them — and, maybe, you’d never have to learn about the truth of ambrose and it’s wax museum

and he’d get to ogle you all he liked from behind the safety of his mask (only as an artist, of course! he’d never sexualise you… or at least he tries to claim as much to himself)

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ohnococo · 9 months ago

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Love Potion | Sukuna x Reader

Sukuna shows a hidden side of himself, thanks to Uraume’s interference

❦ WC: 2.7k

❦ Warnings: Love potions/love spell, fem bodied reader (no pronouns stated, true form sukuna, heian era, light body worship (reader receiving), porn with very loose plot, vaginal sex, creampie, love confessions

Sukuna doesn’t know what’s happening to him. His limbs are heavy, his head is spinning, and he’s moving so, so slowly despite the adrenaline coursing through him and forcing his heart to stomp out a fast beat.

One moment he’s indulging in another of Uraume’s carefully prepared meals, the next he’s dragging his heavy feet through the halls, seeking out the only thing that could soothe the tightly clenched fist that pounds away inside of his chest. His lower arms hang at his sides, the upper ones groping uselessly at the walls, as if his body were warning him that every little thought that he’d buried deep in the back of his mind with all the other things that had no use to him was on the tip of his tongue, threatening to escape.

Because he knew where his body was carrying him from the moment he’d realised he was standing. He’s tread this path many times, it’s one leading to you, his favourite plaything. He treads this path when he’s hungry, looking for your body to indulge him. He treads this path when he needs another pretty thing to drape across himself as warlords and sorcerers alike bore him with their paltry offerings. He even treads this path when he feels his favour towards you is becoming too obvious, but if he has chosen to turn his attention elsewhere he will still will his large body to move silently enough to watch you through your cracked door as you preen and slumber and lie in wait for only him.

This time he knows that something has caused him to lose his thick armour of control over his mind and body alike. As his feet move against his will he wonders, had some unknown curse been sent his way, or attached itself to him upon his return? Had some sorcerer managed to apply some technique to have him acting recklessly, risking it all, and he would be left with everything he’d built ruined once he’d finished up whatever his body needed from you in this moment?

Because his body does need you. It had needed you from the moment he’d last left you, it had needed you every time he went to someone else to satisfy his hedonistic urges. But no, he thinks, he has no desire to start challenges unfitting, no desire to claim that which is not yet ready to be his by way of encroaching upon territories unavailable to even him. His only desire is you.

As he finally reaches the door to your room, it comes to him then. The drink Uraume had insisted he have alongside his meal, metallic and bitter, but able to wash sustenance down all the same. Some spell must have been put upon that drink, and it’s led him here. With all of his wondering if he was being too soft on you for his reputation’s sake, he had failed to consider he was being too soft on Uraume. Soft enough to allow them to meddle in things which did not concern them, things Sukuna often wished did not concern him too.

That’s a matter for another time though, as his head pounds with his blood’s attempts to decide where it should be sent to, because his cock was already alert, as if it were a compass pointing him in your direction. And his face and chest alike are tinted pink with a blush betraying the feelings plaguing his mind and overtaking his consideration of why and how this was all happening.

Once the door is opened, and his eyes are on you, he isn’t thinking about anything at all, he’s just letting his body do what it so badly needs to, as if he’s in a trance.

“Lord Sukuna!” You’re quick as ever, sliding off of your bed to settle onto your knees, prostrate on the floor for your Lord.

His blood rushes so quickly he can hardly hear you, but the image of you before him, in a perfect dogeza, makes his head spin. He falls to his knees in front of you, waiting for you to look at him with your adoring eyes, but you know better. You know so much when it comes to him, though with everything his body was screaming for him to do you may just find out something new.

Eventually, just as your body tenses and shivers with a chill of uncertainty about his intentions in crouching before you and watching instead of doing, as he generally did, it’s he who moves you. He lifts you by your shoulders, crawling forward on all fours and nearly toppling you backwards in a bid to take up any space dividing you. It’s unlike him to lower himself to your level, and he can see an attempt to hide your confusion at seeing him on his knees like this. You let him move you, only adding enough stiffness to your body to stay upright until you’re propping yourself up with your hands behind you. Sukuna gets low enough, in what one could mistake as a bow of his own until he’s pressing kisses to the tops of your feet.

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this now of all times, and in a manner that could almost be construed as submissive. Usually this was an action meant for highly specific occasions: when your legs are up and he’s been fucking you until you hardly know where you are or what’s happening, when he bends his head just low enough to press a kiss to the arch of your feet, eyes on you in case you come to from your sweating, drooling state of overwhelm and see the odd slip of tenderness he bides his time for.

But now, your feet were the first thing his eyes locked onto once he had hit the ground before you. So he does what his body calls for without a second thought. It’s odd, soft even, until he wraps his hand around your ankle and sits back on his haunches as he kisses at the ball of your foot. Having your leg lifted up so high forces you to lie back fully, and Sukuna is pulled to close one set of eyes with the relief of finally touching you, while the other watches how your hair splays out on the floor below. The view of your chest rising and falling quicker moves his focus to your body as he kisses at your ankle, indulging in you even as his chest screams for him to erase the remaining space between you so he can be close enough to hear your breaths over his pounding heart.

He makes a steady path of kisses up your legs, yet another distraction of desire arising as he’s torn between the call of your softly parted lips letting out gentle sighs and the smell of your heat as you become ready for him as is your duty. His hands move to grope at your body, kneading at your calves, your thighs, your hips. The way you twitch in his grasp assures him of your readiness for him to latch onto your pussy.

It’s presented so needily to him as he spreads it and sees the glistening wetness awaiting him. Being so lucky as to have Ryomen Sukuna between your legs always results in his making a vicious and unrelenting move to have you screaming from his actions until you were crying and trembling and too sore for what would surely come after. You’ve come to expect this when he dips between your thighs, and he’s come to find a hidden level of appreciation in giving it.

Then he shocks himself as much as he does you when instead, he presses a kiss to your mound, drawn in by the scent and softness of your hair more than anything. It’s gentle, chaste, and he buries his nose into the hair there, breathing deeply and trembling slightly as he releases that breath hot and heavy through his mouth. He opens wide, as if he means to finally dive in as you’d both been anticipating, but only presses his lips there and breathes you in, as if he could taste your essence just from having his mouth so near. He nuzzles at the soft hair again, before sliding his nose upwards until he’s kissing at your hip.

His path makes another diversion as he moves further and his tongue circles your belly button. It sends a shiver through you, before he’s returning to making his way up your body, scooping you off of the floor and onto his lap as he does. Kisses and touches alike are soft enough that you’re covered in goosebumps, nipples hardened and body already preparing for him to sink you down on him. Instead, he only holds you close, rocking back and forth gently as he buries his face between your breasts and slides your open robe off of your shoulders to pool on the floor behind you.

When you relax into him, sighing and cooing like he’s never experienced before, he’s overcome with an odd feeling in his chest. A tightness even more intense than before, like his lungs were failing him, like his heart was bound so tightly it had to fight to beat and keep his blood stuck in its preternatural rush. Every move you make seems to push his mind and body further out of his control, as if he were acting on instinct alone - except his instincts aren’t telling him to tear you apart and bury himself in what is his, they’re telling him to surround you and fill you and let you fill him until his senses know nothing else.

Another string knots itself around his bound heart as you lean back in his grasp, exposing your neck to him. He’s quick to bring his affections upwards to the sensitive skin, licking up your throat and sucking at the spot between your jaw and neck. He nuzzles into you there, breathing you in deep, making a groan so low and drawn out it was as if he were purring like a cat.

“Touch me.” Hearing his own voice startles him, low and breathy rather than his usual demanding growl or lilting disinterest, and you’re quick to obey as you wrap your arms around him, running your hands across his broad shoulders.

“Yes.” This he can feel himself letting loose, a hiss sent straight from his chest, then from somewhere lower as his next order comes a little more forcefully. “More.”

You run your hands along what you can reach of his upper back, as if soothing his heated skin, and everywhere your touch connects has his eyes rolling, head lolling back as he separates his face from you for the first time since his lips had connected. He feels like he needs to straighten himself to breathe properly, lifting you higher as his hips rise and his tired eyes look towards the obscured heavens.

Each inhale is laboured, each exhale that low purr, as you drag your hands up, over the back of his neck, tilting his head forward to rest on your shoulder. You run your fingers through his hair, sending shivers through him, and the sensory overload of your touch, your skin on his, your scent clouding the murky waters of his mind, trickles down to converge in his aching cock.

It finally reminds him of why his body had brought him here, and what was needed to soothe it and stop the way it screams for you. If only he could focus, but your movements continue because he hasn’t told you to stop - he can’t - and hairs stand on end as you massage at his scalp, then run your fingers back down until you’re caressing his thick neck again. You lean back in his strong arms, held up by only him as he separates your bodies for you to run your hands over his chest. Fingertips tickle at his clavicles, and his breath stutters. When your hands slide gently over his nipples, he swallows hard, and as your hands are drawn back upward he wonders if your body hears the call of his.

You trace the sides of his neck, increasing the intensity until his eyes stop rolling long enough to focus on yours. Sukuna realises that whatever you chose to do to him right now, he couldn’t stop you, or rather wouldn’t, and were he more coherent such a thought might frighten him. It doesn’t though. With his eyes locked on yours he’s gone, floating above his body, falling into yours, breathing when you breathe, blinking when you blink, until you seem to understand that for the moment you are in control.

His chest tightens further when your first act of control is to kiss him, lips soft and wet on his cheek, just below his eyes. The action is mirrored on the other side as well, a little more firmly, and then you hook one arm around the back of his neck, reaching down below to line him up with your entrance.

The Ryomen Sukuna he believes himself to truly be returns to him for a moment, as he buries himself in your warmth in one smooth motion, eyes rolling back as he does. He holds you firmly at the hips with two hands, the others retaining the new gentleness he’d been offering you as they slide over your body and feel your every muscle tensing as you squirm and adjust to the stretch of having all of him so quickly.

When you wrap your legs around him, clinging to him as tightly as you can manage, he’s wound even tighter - breath forced from his lungs as he feels as if every inch of you is connected to him. He rocks you both, not in a way that slides his cock against you, in a way that soothes you both. Until your body relaxes, melting into him fully. Your forehead pressed to his, your hands gripping and kneading at the back of his neck, dipping into his hair every so often, your eyes focused on his as if you were waiting for whatever would be set loose once the bindings on his heart snapped.

He feels like he’s floating, like every muscle in his body except for his heart were fully relaxed and carried on the current of his emotions, and it isn’t until the soft ring of your rising moans reaches his ears that he realises he’s been thrusting up into you for some time. You rock into those thrusts, clinging to him, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his forehead with soft sighing lips. As for Sukuna, he hardly knows what noises he’s making, or anything that his body is doing except for chasing the high of keeping the two of you connected wherever possible. His eyes take turns rolling or watching you reverently, letting the moment wash over him, scatter him through the current, and rebuild him anew as you clench at him.

In time - though how much time has passed he cannot say - there comes a distant echo, cutting through the haze of the sounds of your breaths and bodies colliding. It sounds very much like his own voice, though he has no clue which mouth is chanting on his behalf. He can’t focus on the words, not that he needs to, as the tightness in his chest begins to snap, little by little, forcing him to face the truth of those words as his body speaks them.

You grip him tightly enough that he can be sure it is not the mouth on his stomach speaking them, because they ring loud and clear in his mind, through the fog that had brought them forth in the first place. Then, you kiss him, and they stop, as his lips busy themselves with drinking in your moans, tangling his tongue with yours, feeling your mouth slide against his.

Then you’re saying them back, and his heart is released, beating wildly enough that it can no longer be restrained. He lets out a noise unlike him, a plea, a prayer, a wilting bellow as he releases inside of you and you squeeze and pull everything he has to offer with the intensity of your body following him through the waves.

You repeat it back to him again, breathlessly, and each utterance waves away the fog in his brain until his own response is the clearest thought he’s had since that drink had passed his lips.

“I love you.”

banners by @cafekitsune

#my writing #reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #x reader #reader insert #self insert #sukuna fic #jjk smut

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aressapereaude · 1 month ago

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Happy birthday to Vere~!

MINORS DNI

AGELESS/FACELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

Source: Touchstarved

Pairing: Vere x Reader

Contains: Explicit language, alcohol, strong violence, it's Vere what are we expecting, gore, sex??, monsterfucking???, murder, dead dove do not eat, cannibalism, decapitation, nobody is coming, Leander needs a mop.

It is the fourteenth of November.

The air is cold, the ground is not yet frozen over but you find your steps slipping more than they usually do. It tends to happen around this time of year. Everything slows down, and the days are all over so quickly that you're not really sure if they ever happened at all.

He's hungry, you knew that. He has always been hungry.

The hunger has been eating at him for a long time.

You met him through a friend. Well, they weren't a friend at the time... A brief but uneasy encounter outside the Wet Wick, in which you had fallen for a sly pickpocketing trick, and he had dangled it in front of you like an anglerfish, slowly luring you into the light. You did get your key back, in the end. With some interference of course.

Over time, you realised you had a lot in common. He hated the Senobium with a burning passion, and so did you; They had been lauded far and wide as the best of the best, and once upon a time you had hoped they could cure you, but not anymore. Those gates were too strongly locked and far too secretive to let the likes of you inside. After a while you had simply stopped trying, and you found that the more you grew to dislike them, the more you found yourself spending time around the fox with the hungry eyes.

And at first it was nothing, really, just hanging out with mutual acquaintances and bumping into each other around the Wet Wick, but gradually you began to take notice of the way his pupils thinned to pin pricks when he looked at you, the way his fur bristled ever so slightly when you almost came too close. You noticed how his ears tracked you with a strange alertness despite the cool composure he maintained, and how whenever he gave you that sly smirk, the corners of his lips would sort of... flicker.

The closer you got, the more these instances occurred, and it began to dawn on you, the feelings that you had for him. Every now and then, he'd slip you an extra drink and make a smooth remark about taking you home.

When he did, his tail would twitch ever so slightly, and his knee would grow restless, bouncing under the counter. His jaw would clench, and though he did his best to hide it, his breathing would pick up and heave subtly at his chest. But every time, you declined, wanting to wait for a "special moment" and in an instant it was as though it had never happened. He'd go back to the small talk, the teasing, the joking or arguing and there'd be no traces left of that hungry fox who looked at you with a desperate, secret, hidden need.

His eyes look particularly dilated tonight.

It is the fourteenth of November, and you have bought yourself an extra drink tonight. You've bought Vere one, too. He tries not to look hopeful, but you see in your peripheral the way he eyes you up and down when you're facing away from him. He's being less secretive about it tonight, even taking the time to wait until Leander has left the two of you alone.

(Alone, apart from the horned demon sitting at the end of the bar, keeping keen red eyes on you both, and the Senobium cleric outside the bar. You assume she's waiting for him to leave and take up whatever business he has with the nearest brothel. You have a feeling he won't, not tonight.)

"Happy Birthday, Vere. Let's get out of this place for a while," You murmur, leaning in. His keen ears pick up every word, but you don't want the cleric to catch wind of what you're up to.

A thin smile slits across his face, and he offers you his hand, assisting you to your feet. His expression is dark with want, and the dancing candlelight only paints him in a more monstrous light. You don't seem to mind, though, as your footsteps begin to stumble towards the door.

His sharp claws pull you back, knocking you into him, your back flat against his chest. "I was thinking we could use your room tonight."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"Leander has the key. He won't be back until-"

"Until I'm done," Vere finishes, flashing the keys in front of you the same way he did back then. And you smile.

Ais red eyes linger on your backs until the very last moment you leave his view. As the two of you sneak off together, you shoot a quick look back to make sure you're alone.

He doesn't move from his seat.

Vere locks the door behind you and tosses the key before he pounces, a mess of hair and claws. There's a calm desperation in the way he rips your clothes off you, and the way you fiddle with the straps around him. The low growl caught in his throat spills forward as he pushes you backwards, teeth clacking against yours and splitting your lip, and the pleasure and relief shudders through him when he plunges into you.

Blood splatters across the hardwood floor.

For a moment you stand there, stunned at the explosion of colour, and then it hits you all at once. The pinprick eyes. The attentive ears. The charm, and the twitches, and the ever so slight flash of fangs each time he asked you to come with him. There is blood on the floor, and it dawns on you with a sickening crunch that this is your blood, your viscera that is now congealing between the floorboards, and it is so dark in this room.

He's panting, moving with a disturbing nonchalance for someone with such a feral look on their face. The arm that had split your belly open twists with another sick crunching noise and you feel it now, the agony as he takes a handful of intestines and squeezes.

You start to throw up, but nothing comes out.

This isn't how tonight was supposed to go. This isn't how you wanted him inside you- but then, he is inside you, isn't he? Making a mess of your organs and lapping up the fluid that leaks from your clenching abdomen, burying his face in your soft thighs...

Only to take an enormous chunk of muscle between his teeth and rip it clean off the bone. The look in his eyes is euphoric, instinctive. How could you be so stupid? Any other time you'd have loved to see him make a face like this. But now, as he shivers with satisfaction, you wish you could have died when his lips touched your lips.

You don't know when your head hits the floor but it does, and you don't feel it. Vere stands above you, violating every inch of your body in his bloodied arms, bits of your meat and sinew plastered across his cheeks and hair, dribbling down his neck and you can't tell if he's fucking you or eating you and you don't think there's a difference anymore because you're being devoured either way.

Your final thought, to your confusion, is Leander. This is his spare room, after all. What's he going to say when he gets back? Will he be angry at you for making such a mess of the floor and walls?

Clinging to life, you fade away to the sound of Vere's sharp teeth snapping through your bones.

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cherryrory · 9 months ago

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I want to lay down on her lap wearing a cute skirt with some thigh highs, To feel her hand slowly creeping up my skirt to grab my ass and tease my clit slowly, and meticulously, as her other hand sticks two fingers inside me bouncing in and out in rhythm with my moans and begs.

“Do you promise to be good?”

“Yes I promise”

she stops

“I don’t think I heard you sweet girl”

“Yes! Yes! I promise to be good! I promise!

“Good girl.”

—————

i’m sorry if this isn’t that great i’m still learning my darlings bear with me🩷

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dee-daa · 3 months ago

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my legs are open, my holes are ready and waiting.

if this man needs to breed someone, then i volunteer as tribute

#deembles #what in hell is bad #whb asmodeus #horn-dee hours #minors do not interact #minors dni #mdni #ageless blogs dni #ageless dni #ageless blogs do not interact #minors will be blocked #ageless blogs will be blocked

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sexysapphicshopowner · 8 months ago

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🤎 Context/AU (Alternate Universe): Big news for the dreamgirls!! Aftermath of 'Twenty Foreplay'

🤎 soft!wife!dreamgirl!sevika x wife!dreamgirl!reader

🤎 CW/TW: abuse, violence, death, murder, child sexual abuse, adult language, pregnancy, lesbians, pet names, fluff, angst, abortion attempt, sevika has a tragic backstory, eating disorder, drug use, mentions of alcoholism, sorry if I forgot any, not proofread/edited so excuse any mistakes

🤎 A/N: It's late, I know, life happens. I actually cut it short bc it was starting to get a lot heavier than I wanted and the flow was starting to get a bit sloppy. So have this.

🤎 Notes: Um, I cried while writing most of the flashback parts. I love the dreamgirls.

🤎 Word count: 12.4k

Aromatic wisps of rosemary and sage wafted through the bathroom, the scents intermingling with that of the light and warm, semi-bubbly milk bath your wife had drawn for you when she’d gotten home for the day. You let out a soft sigh, your head barely hanging over the edge as you sunk further into the calming water, trying to let as much stress seep out of you as possible.

Familiar and comforting hands found your shoulders, a kiss being planted on your temple as she spoke, voice barely a rumble over the neo-soul that was playing from the speaker on the sink counter, “How are you feeling, dream girl?”

“Better now that you’re in here,” you hummed as you looked up to her, pressing a kiss to her chin as she massaged your shoulders.

Her laugh was quiet as she ducked lower to press an upside-down kiss to your lips before kissing up the bridge of your nose. The playful little pecks turned reverent as her lips landed back at your forehead, peppering across the area as her hands moved.

Fingers splayed out over your neck and partially your collar as she pressed her thumbs behind your ears, rubbing in circles. You all but melted in her hands, letting your eyes slip closed once more as you enjoyed her touch and kiss.

“Have you started yet? I dropped last night.”

You shook your head, letting out a little sigh, “Not yet, though I wish it would hurry up. These body aches are killing me and if I keep gagging, I’m gonna throw up and that’s gonna make me cry.”

She cooed, thumbs now tracing down, applying a slight pressure as she dragged them along the line of your jaw, “My poor little mama...”

“Why poor me? You’re the one that’s actually on. I should’ve been the one drawing a bath for you when you got home.”

“Sure, but if you never drop then, you know what that means,” she hinted.

You rolled your eyes playfully, humming, “True... we’ll see. I’ll let you know what happens. We both know my cycle is still very off and weird.” “Right, right. Now about this gag-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” she pouted.

“I don’t have to. You were about to ask if it’s too bad for me to suck a lil’ dick. You’re so sick and twisted and completely un-slick, little nasty,” you shook your head, pushing her face playfully.

“Well, you’ve got me there. It was worth a try in my book,” she shrugged.

“Uh-huh. You disgust me.”

“Do I? Do I really,” she asked playfully, as you looked up, leaning your head back just a little further.

You beckoned her closer as you leaned your head back a little further, “Kiss, kiss.”

She happily obliges, leaning down to meet your lips as you stretch up just the tiniest bit. The kiss isn’t long, but it was enough to sate you until you could kiss her properly later. She mumbles against your lips as she pulls away, “I’m so in love with you and everything about you...”

Your breath caught as you looked up at her, finding that same indescribable flame that always burned within her silvery eyes. Somehow the color still hadn’t dulled against the harsh reality of life as a Zaunite. Even more, that loving look in them only seemed to be larger every time you caught her eye.

You were swooning.

It wasn’t until her lips pressed to your forehead that you were pulled out of your reverie, blinking up at her as you turned around in the tub to look up at her properly as you leaned onto your arms, folding them over the edge of the bathtub, “I love you more.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, beckoning her closer with the crook of a finger, “Uh-huh. C'mere. I’ll show you how much I love you.”

She all but fell back into your lips, sighing into your kiss as it consumed her, your nails raking over her scalp as your fingers slid into her hair, thumbs tracing her jaw just in front of her ears.

In a very uncharacteristic move, she pulled from the embrace before you could even deepen it, huffing, “You can’t kiss me like that, dreamy...”

“Why not?”

She shook her head to clear it, wiping her face, “Because then I’m gonna wanna get into the tub with you, then I’m gonna fuck you and I’m supposed to be focused on doing other things right now.”

“Such as?”

She just chuckled in response before planting a much more chaste kiss to your lips, following it with another to the tip of your nose, the final one touching your forehead as she stood, “What fun would it be if I just told you, mama? I’ll be back in a sec with some sparkling white grape. Just in case I did knock you up, which... not to toot my own dick, but I’m pretty certain I did.”

Your laugh was more of a splutter as you choked on your spit and air at the same time, “For Janna’s sake, Sevi, it’s ‘toot my own horn’. I can’t stand your nasty ass sometimes.”

“Then it’s a wonderful thing you’re in the tub right now, isn’t it?”

“Girl- just hurry up, I want cuddles when I get out of here.”

She blew you a final kiss from the doorway before disappearing into the rest of the house to do whatever it was she was hiding from you. As promised, she’d come back with the sparkling juice, to which you accepted gratefully with a little kiss before sinking back into your bath, lazily holding the champagne flute over the side of the tub as you sipped on the drink idly.

Sevika doesn’t like men.

All the men out there who’ve ever wanted to fuck her can thank her father for the aversion.

You see, when your childhood consists of being pimped out to strange men to pay your alcoholic father’s gambling debts, constantly getting into street fights, and then getting your ass handed to you once you get home- you don’t have much time to really discover yourself.

Maybe in a different universe- one where Sevika wasn’t born in Zaun... where her father wasn’t abusive... where she wasn’t sex trafficked by the very man that was meant to protect her... she might’ve been attracted to men.

But this wasn’t that universe.

Her fear of relationships with men quickly grew into an outright disgust of them.

And then it got worse.

For Sevika, it started with the vomiting.

For probably all the ladies living up Topside, the first sign would’ve been a missed period. Thanks to life in the Lanes, however, Sevika was pretty used to her period not coming at all sometimes. It never came with a baby before though.

She’d been dancing the line of unknown pregnancy scares since she was 11. Now she was 21, still under the thumb of her father, and even worse- pregnant.

It wasn’t long before you were wrapped in a fluffy robe, feet slid into your house slippers as Sev guided you into the kitchen with her hands over your eyes under the guise of ‘driving you’ to her secret little surprise.

You stumbled a bit and she took a little pause, “You okay?”

“I smell food.”

Her chuckle was hearty and you could almost hear the head shake that accompanied her words, “I’m sure you do. Almost there, dream girl.”

Her hands were removed from your eyes without warning and allowed your eyes to adjust as she leaned her face over your shoulder, hands coming down to their usual home base of your waist as you took in the ambient, candlelit dinner she’d put together for you guys, “Sev...”

She shook her head before you could continue, “Yes, I’m on my period and that’s your favorite time to spoil me, but I wanted to treat my wife.”

You poked your lip out as you turned your head to look at her, “Sev...”

She giggled, peppering the side of your face with kisses, “Don’t cry, mama... it’s just dinner. I can’t even cook like you.”

You sniffled, fanning your eyes, “Shut it, my emotions are just everywhere right now. It’s not about your cooking skills, even though we both know I’ve taught you well... It’s about the gesture, and you know it.”

She nodded, lips now at your shoulder, “I know... hope you love it.”

“Of course, I love it... I love you...” you mumbled, holding a hand against her cheek.

“Alright, alright, sit and eat,” she prompted, pulling your chair out with her foot. Before you could protest as she sat you down, she pressed several kisses to your face, “And I love you too. Never forget it.”

You had a stupid smile on your face throughout the entirety of dinner.

Emetophobia.

The fear of vomiting or seeing others being sick.

Sevika had experienced her father’s violent reactions to her throwing up before.

The first time was when she was 6.

It was a particularly bad winter in Zaun. The smog was thicker, the cold seemed to seep into the very core of the Lanes.

She’d been battling the sniffles and a nasty fever for days, all the while still being forced to ‘put herself to use’ by her father.

Then it got worse.

Then she began to throw up.

At first, she hid it well. She’d swallow it down when she couldn’t get out of his sight. When she could, she’d always go out to an alley, ducking and weaving through bodies of what the little girl only hoped was just drunkards and junkies who’d passed out on a bender rather than what a six-year-old Sevika knew in her heart were either already dead or close to it.

Up until this point, the extent of physical abuse coming directly from her father was a slap across the face or being picked up by the front of her shirt and shaken around.

Then she brought him breakfast and didn’t make it out of his room fast enough to go puke out back.

That was the catalyst for the abuses that would be-fall her for the next few decades of her life.

Throw up tastes disgusting.

It tastes even worse going back down after being licked up off your father’s grimy boots.

Even worse, the feeling of wanting to re-release those fluids again when you were forced to lick those same boots clean until they were no longer grimy.

Sevika trained herself to hold her throw up in after that.

Your music from the bathroom was moved to one of the counters in the kitchen, incense burning in the holder as you and Sevika cuddled up into each other, you perched up on her lap with the two of you picking from the same plate in between soft kisses and intimate looks.

It was just you and your wife, enjoying the presence and company of one another in the midst of the meal she’d prepared.

You leaned back against her chest, letting out a happy sigh, “You know... I’m so proud of you for this.”

“Yeah,” she asked softly. The softness of her voice, the genuine question in that one word was so cute. You turned in her lap, sitting sideways atop her, cupping her cheek in a hand as you smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to the bridge of her nose.

You kept your voice at the same level of hers as you responded, “Of course, I’m proud, baby. You pan fried the rice properly and everything. I’m so very proud to see you picking up cooking a little more.”

Your heart broke a little at the tears that glossed over her silver orbs as she looked up at you, “Really? You mean it?”

“Yes, baby, I mean it. What’s wrong,” you cooed, bringing your other hand to her cheek to stroke both of them with your thumbs, “Talk to me, baby.”

She shrugged, looking away, “I dunno... I just... I feel like I’ve been struggling to eat lately. Like I’ve been having to force myself to eat so I just... I wasn’t sure if I was in the right headspace to be cooking tonight, but I wanted to treat you, you know?”

“Sev...” you began.

“Don’t... it’s okay, doll. I’ll-”

“Sevika,” you stopped her, keeping her face turned to yours as you moved again, this time to straddle her, “Will you look at me? Please?”

She shook her head in your gentle grip, tears beginning to well, threatening to spill over as she fought hard to blink them back, “I can’t...”

“And why not?”

“I don’t want to see you disappointed in me...” she whispered, voice barely the ghost of a whisper. It was the smallest you’d heard her voice in a while. The last time was... you softened, further, bringing your voice to a warmer tone.

“I’m not disappointed in you, baby. And I never could be, especially not for something like that. I’m actually proud of you. Very proud that instead of shutting down, you’re talking about it. I know how hard that is for you, especially when it comes to your eating. So with that being said, will you please look at me?”

Watery eyes met yours as she nibbled the inside of her cheek, whispering, “Promise?”

“Of course, baby. I promise, I’m not disappointed.”

She took a shuddery, breath, closing her eyes as she leaned her forehead against your chest, “I love you...”

You pressed a kiss into her hair, rubbing her back, “I love you too, baby. You wanna try and eat a little something more for me? Or do you just wanna talk? What did you eat today?”

“Um.... I had a few bites of the lunch you made me, but then I.... let Ran eat the rest... I’m sorry...”

“Baby, you don’t have to keep apologizing. Can you at least drink some water and eat a little something? Just a couple of bites?” She whined and you let out a little sigh, running your fingers through her hair, “Have you smoked yet?”

“Mhm.”

“Didn’t help?”

“No.”

“Okay... You’ll try again later?”

“Sure.”

“If you can’t that’s fine, but you gotta promise me you’ll try and eat well tomorrow, okay?”

“I promise...”

A plaintive silence fell over the two of you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just... somber. You didn’t comment when she began to pick a few bites off the plate again, simply smiling that she was getting some form of food in her, even if it wasn’t a lot.

At some point, Sevika had stopped eating, hands gripping at your waist, hips and thighs as she pressed kisses along the line of your neck and shoulder. Her hands strayed to your stomach as she mumbled, “Hey, mama?”

“Yes, my love?”

She chuckled as you stuffed your face with food, wiping some from your cheek, “What if I really did knock you up in one try?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I mean, how many times did you nut in me? And we were both ovulating around that time too. It was like perfectly timed for us to actually end up with a baby.”

She didn’t say anything else for a few moments, and you went right back to eating before she rested her chin on your shoulder, tracing your side with her mechanic hand, “You make me want a family...”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, “Yeah... even with life down here... the work that I do... you make me wanna have something to leave behind... a little family that’s like... a legacy of our love. Like, yes, I wanna be a mother and give our kids the things that I never had, but I also want people to see our kids and know that those are our kids. Like... they know that our kids have two loving moms that are actively in love.”

You let out a little giggle, turning to the side in her lap to wrap your arms around her neck, pressing a kiss to her cheek as you held her other one, stroking your thumb over her cheekbone, “You’re so cute... I love you, and I would love to have your babies, and I know what you’re trying to say, I promise.”

She relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief as she leaned into your hand on her face, “Thank Janna, I thought I was just rambling stupidly.”

You shook your head, pressing more kisses to her face and lips, “No, I understood you perfectly.”

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

You giggled, nodding, “Yeah, a little bit. You always remind me that I’m loved... it’s why I married you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Baby, you told me you loved me within our first four dates. It was so cute because you were still learning to navigate love and healthy relationships... we both were, and still are, but here I had the big, scary lady of Zaun and she was looking at me like a puppy and telling me that she thought she was falling in love with me. I think that was the moment when I truly felt like I had found my person in you. And well... the rest is really history. By the time you asked me to marry you, I couldn’t say anything but yes.”

She had idly reached for her wedding band that she always wore on a chain around her neck, fiddling with it as she looked up at you in her lap, “You never once like... entertained saying no? Or maybe waiting a little longer?”

“Never. I knew when I met you that I had to snatch you up and it was just my luck that you seemed to have the same thought process when it came to me. I love you. And that’s not changing. So yes, I mean it when I say I wanna have your children, or that I love you more than anything, or that I’d do anything you asked of me because you’re... you’re everything to me, Sev... and I know that when it comes to us talking about kids it’s hard for you... but you’ve given me so much and I wanna give you the same thing in return. If given the chance, I wouldn’t change a thing about our relationship... well...”

Her eyes snapped up to you from her ring as worry laced through her features, “Well?”

You snickered, placing a gentle kiss to the bridge of her nose, “If I could go back, I would make sure I’d asked you to marry me before you could ask me.”

“You’re so,” she rolled her eyes, unable to hide her smile as you shut her up with another little kiss. She pulled you further into her lap with a happy little sigh, “I love you, dream girl.”

You leaned into her, resting your head on her shoulder as you wrapped an arm around her, your other hand coming up to her chest, fingernail tracing along her collarbone, “I love you too.”

“Done eating?”

You nodded, patting your stomach, “May or may not be a baby-baby in here, but there’s definitely a food baby in here.”

The way she perked up almost like a little kid was too cute as she asked, “I did good?”

The sated and full sigh you let out was all the answer she really needed, but you furthered it as you spoke, “Fuck yes...”

She rubbed your back with one hand, her other one grabbing hold of your hand to kiss each of your fingertips, “You’re so cute. It wasn’t even all that, mama.”

“Uh-huh, it was gourmet. My compliments to the chef.”

She raised a brow, voice full of ulterior motives and that all-too-familiar lilt as she muttered, “If you weren’t clearly about to fall asleep, I would ask for some better compliments, you know.”

You quirked a brow sleepily, looking up at her through low and hooded eyes, “Huh?”

“Alright, c’mon. To bed with you,” she prodded, adjusting her hold on you to pick you up with your legs wrapped around her waist.

You instinctively looped your arms around her neck, pressing a few kisses to it as you hummed, “I love you.”

“So I’ve noticed. I love you too.”

“I love you.”

She chuckled, “I love you too, baby.”

“I love you.”

She used her foot to push open the door to your shared bedroom, nodding as she used her foot to close the door once more, “Uh-huh, I love you too, dreamy. What’s up?”

You shrugged as she sat down on the edge of the bed with you in her lap again, “Just feel like I haven’t said it enough today, you were at work all day, baby. Gotta reach our quota.”

“We have a quota?”

“Mhm,” you nodded against her shoulder, eyes closed as you planted lazy kisses against whatever skin was closest to you.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she assumed a firmer grip on your hip as she hummed, “And what exactly would that number be?”

“We say ‘I love you’ at least 76 times a day. And we kiss at least 280 times.”

She chuckled, hand stroking along your hip and thigh as she nodded, “And where did you get these numbers from? Your ass?”

“I’ve always counted.”

That shut her up before she asked her next question a few moments later, “Are these exact numbers?”

“An average. I did say ‘at least’.”

“Huh.... you’re gay.”

“Okay, but you married me so what does that say about you?”

“That I did.” She turned to press a kiss to your forehead, just below your hairline before resting her head against yours, “I love you, dream girl.”

You melted in her arms, nuzzling into the crook of her neck as you tightened your hold around her waist, “I love you...”

“I love you,” she called again with a soft lilt in her tone as her thumb traced circles at the side of your hip.

A heavy blush was creeping up from your chest, your skin growing warm as you let out a shaky breath, “I love you...”

“You okay?”

“Uh-huh...”

“Words, mama.” You huffed and she shook her head, “No, ma’am. Talk to me. You goin’ to sleep on me?”

“No.”

“No?”

You shook your head against her, “Mh-mh.”

She just chuckled, rubbing your back with one hand as she cradled the back of your head with the other, pressing kisses into your hair, “Whatever you say, mama.”

Sevika’s pregnancy scares were probably a lot more than she realized, but with little actual knowledge of her body, and the compounding factor of probably the world’s most irregular cycle, she spent the majority of her tween, teen, and young adult years none the wiser to any of the times where her body was seemingly contemplating the creation of a child.

Until it started.

At first, it was just a random nausea spell here and there.

Then the nausea grew constant, the smallest smells setting her off with this horrible gagging.

And then she threw up.

All she could think of was what she was supposed to do when her father found out. No, no... he couldn’t find out.

Flashbacks of that day when she was 6 have been haunting her since the first day of nausea. The intensity all but doubled when she woke up running for the toilet.

Terrified didn’t even begin to cover the amalgamation of emotions Sevika was feeling when she realized what was going on with her.

She thrust herself into ‘working’. Unsure of how far along she was and unable to actually find out, she decided to swallow down her daily morning sickness whenever it cropped up if she could, and when she couldn’t, she was straight to the nearest toilet.

That didn’t stop her father from finding out.

Sevika was sat on the bathroom floor, groaning under her breath after being unable to force herself to swallow her vomit back down. She was too weak and out of it to scramble and get herself together.

If it wasn’t bad enough that she’d thrown up- didn't even get the chance to flush the toilet yet- her lack of reaction to his presence only further incensed the already drunk and irate man that called himself her father.

It was a shitshow.

Sevika was hemmed up by the collar of her shirt, his fist shaking as he barked in her face, questioning if this was why she’d been ‘underperforming’ lately. Too stunned to speak and reeling from the sudden yanking up from the floor, she sputtered, dizzy with a pounding headache as she tried to form a response.

The more she floundered to actually engage with him, the more angry and downright belligerent he became.

As always, he didn’t see his daughter, shaking under his grip of her collar.

No, he saw the extra mouth he’d been having to feed.

He saw the reason his wife was dead.

He saw red.

By the time Sevika found her words to even begin attempting to answer his barrage of questions and demands, his fist was already connecting with her face, his grip on her shirt the only thing saving her from ending up sprawled on the bathroom floor.

It was going to be a beating for the books.

You didn’t even realize it when she’d laid you down in the bed on the pillows, tucking you in, until she was sliding into bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you from behind with a kiss to the back of your shoulder, “Hm?”

She shook her head, reaching a hand into your robe to hold one of your breasts as another kiss was planted to the side of your neck, “Go to sleep, mama. I just had to go get out of my work clothes.”

You let out a little groan, turning in her arms to nestle into her, your face tucked under her chin as you mumbled, “Hmmm... g’night.... love you...”

With a little chuckle she pressed kisses into your hair, rubbing your lower back as she whispered against you, “Good night, my love. Sleep well.”

You didn’t sleep very well at all.

Along with the aches and random pains in weird places in your body- a tugging in your lower abdomen that also had a random stabbing along with it, back pain, an almost constant headache, and just a general discomfort and ache in your body- you also had this constant metal taste that was like having a mouthful of rusty change in your mouth at all times.

You were constantly waking up throughout the night from the discomfort, the violent urge to brush your teeth to purge your mouth of the vile metallic tang plaguing you. This, compounded with your incessant gagging, had you growing nauseous with the mere thought of your toothbrush starting to make you want to dry-heave.

You were presently standing over the sink, tears in your eyes as you tried to prepare yourself to gargle some mouthwash after having thrown up for about the fifth time since you woke up in the middle of the night.

Sevika, ever the stony sleeper, had no idea until she rolled over, finding your cold spot in the bed next to her. She groaned, calling out in a sleep-filled voice, “Baby, what’re you doin’? Come back so we can cuddle...”

You huffed, gripping onto the counter of the bathroom sink, fighting the urge to dry-heave again, “I’ll be back in a second....”

You could hear her trudging footsteps coming closer to the bathroom until she was coming up behind you, rubbing your back and pulling hair out of your face, concern and sleep both written on her features, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I just.... I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” you shook your head, pushing her hand away before grabbing the capful of mouthwash.

“You can’t lie to me, dream girl. You’re crying, you’re pale... you look like shit and you’re supposed to be asleep right now. Talk to me.”

“I’m in pain, gagging now has nausea with it, I just threw up, so now I gotta wash that out of my mouth, but that’s still not going to get rid of this fucking taste in my mouth and I just-”

“Hey,” she moved to stand right in front of you, hands on your arms as she rubbed them to try and calm you back down, “Avalanche, you’re spiraling, dreamy. Take a deep breath with me and we’ll go sit down and talk, okay?”

You nodded as you looked up at her, taking a shaky but somewhat deep breath along with her as she nodded along, continuing to rub your arms with her thumbs tracing circles.

You let out a hiccup when you went to exhale and the second the tears started to brew again, she shook her head, “No, no, eyes on me... You’re safe... you’re okay, I promise. I’m here. You are okay, you’re doing so well, my love. Let’s try again, okay? Deep breaths.”

It took a few more tries before you finally relaxed in her hold, wrapping your arms around her. She brought one hand up to play in your hair, the pads of her fingers rubbing your scalp as her claws on her mech hand trailed lightly up and down your back.

She ended up taking you to the kitchen, sitting you down as she made you a glass of water with two and a half ice cubes- just the way you liked it after an episode like that, holding your free hand and kissing your knuckles and fingertips as you drank with your other hand.

When you sat the glass down, she stepped between your legs, still stroking her thumb over the back of your knuckles, “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll talk. If you don’t wanna talk, we can go back to sleep. If you want a distraction, we can watch something, or I could read you something. Just let me know, okay?”

You nodded, reaching up with your other arm for her to come closer. She pressed a kiss to your cheek before leaning into the embrace, wrapping you up in her arms. The two of you remained that way for a few quiet moments until you looked up at her with a sniffle, your chin on her chest, “Sev?”

“Yes, dreamy?”

“Can you read to me in bed?”

“Absolutely, baby. Do you wanna stay with me while I grab a book or go get comfy?” You held onto her tighter and she nodded, stroking your hair, “Alright, I got you.” She moved so that she could give you a piggyback while she grabbed a book. She ran her finger over the titles, moving on to the next one when you let out a little ‘mh-mh’ sound at each one until giving a nod when she got to a book you wanted to hear.

Once you were both back in bed, Sevika sat up against the headboard with you lying on your stomach between her legs curled up into her chest, she started reading the book, her voice still rather raspy from sleep. She held the book in one hand, her other one up at your face, stroking your cheek with the back of her fingers and only moving to flip the page.

Eventually, you closed your eyes, enjoying the vibrations of her voice in her chest beneath your head and the feel of her fingers on your face. Unconsciously, you took hold of her hand, fiddling with her fingers. She paused in her reading to check in, “You okay?”

“My mouth feels empty,” you lamented softly, the traces of whining laced in your voice.

She kissed your temple, “You’ve got my fingers, mama. Do you want me to keep reading?”

Sevika was no stranger to your occasional bouts like this. You hadn’t had a panic attack like that in a while, but usually when you did, you came out of them feeling very subby, not saying much, and your oral fixation would kick up, usually leading you to say things like ‘my mouth feels empty’.

You nodded in response to her question as you closed your eyes again, softly sucking and gnawing on her index finger. She smiled as your breathing evened out, setting the book aside as she pulled the covers over you both, allowing you to keep her finger before she picked the book back up.

A little groan left you as you took one more finger into your mouth, shifting atop her with your right arm wrapped around her. She shushed you softly, pressing a kiss to your hair, “I’m right here, dream girl... I’ll never let you go... promise...”

First, he punched.

Blow after blow into her face.

To this day, Sevika still has the slightest taste of blood that crops up in her mouth for no apparent reason from time to time.

It was clear that he was just making himself angrier with each hit, the strikes growing more violent and frenzied the more he spoke, barking at her about bringing another unwanted mouth into the household, about how she was still going to have to work. How could she be so foolish as to allow something like this? Half of his yelling barely made any sense but one thing was clear- he was saying that she’d gotten pregnant on purpose, trying to get out of pulling her weight around here.

His grip started to shake on her collar until he’d thrown her to the floor, too lazy to bend over and keep using his hands, so here came the infamous worker’s boots, smashing into her stomach and chest with seemingly reckless abandon- yet somehow still managing a concentration of kicks to her stomach. Sevika curled in on herself slightly, instinctively going to guard her stomach which left her chest open.

There was a sick crunch with each kick there, blood bubbling up out of her mouth as her body was wracked with coughs, the blood spattering across the floor with each one. Her father stopped for a few moments, leaning against the wall to catch his breath as he wheezed.

"You... are fuckin'.... pathetic..." he huffed, turning back around to prod her face with his foot.

He spat down at her as she lay there, voice gruff as he all but growled, “Get the fuck up.”

Sevika was already weak when he came in, having been throwing up essentially all morning before he'd come in to find her when he got home. It hurt to even breathe, ribs threatening to puncture her lungs with every shallow breath she managed, let alone for her to actually get up off the floor.

She didn’t move.

He gave her a shove with his foot, pushing her onto her back as his voice got louder, “Did you not hear me, bitch? Get the fuck up!”

Tears brewed at the back of her eyes. She always says the back because she learned early on not to cry. He hated that almost more than he hated her.

With a great amount of effort, she rolled onto her side, then her stomach before bracing her hands against the floor to push herself up, low grunts and huffs escaping her the whole way.

She barely got a few inches off the floor before he used his foot once again to kick her, knocking her back down, “Get up.”

It was getting harder to hold those tears.

She wasn’t foolish enough to hope that actually ending up pregnant would change things. She never hoped for anything. But some subconscious part of her did. While she had no plans on keeping the child, not that her father would let her anyway, something deep within her secretly wanted to.

Her arms were wobbly, weak as she started to push up again. Each time she started to get up as he was demanding, he’d kick up under her, right into her stomach.

She knew what he was doing.

She didn’t want to lose the baby.

Not like this.

But she couldn’t do anything.

For years after his death, she berated herself for not killing him sooner.

After all if she had...

To say you had a disgusting cocktail of things seemingly going wrong with you would’ve been an understatement.

You were locked in an almost unending cycle of sorts. First, you’d feel so nauseous it was almost like you were seasick. Then you’d throw up, which meant you had to brush your teeth after, lest the unceasing metallic taste be joined by vomit, which meant more gagging and possible throwing up. Then to make you feel even worse, now your gums were bleeding.

And there was the pains.

Sevika could barely keep up, but she was doing her best. She went into work less often, explaining the situation to Silco. When she did go in, he kept her for shorter hours, having her back home to you before afternoon.

You guys were still awaiting your now questionably late period when you called from the bathroom one morning, “Baby?”

“Yes, mama?”

“Can you bring me a liner from the closet?”

“You dropped?”

“I think?”

She entered the room with a liner in one hand and fresh panties in the other, “You think?”

“It’s never been this light before. It’s not spotting, but it’s not my usual first day either,” you explained, letting her see the red and brown that now stained the panties you were wearing initially before you tossed them across the bathroom and into the hamper, taking the fresh ones and the liner from her with a soft ‘thank you’ as you changed.

She leaned against the sink, clearly studying you, trying to rack her brain for any sort of explanation.

“This just started?”

“Yeah?”

“Hm.”

“What are you thinking about over there? I’m not dying, am I?”

She looked at you like she could kill you before whatever this was did, “Don’t talk like that. I’m just trying to make sense of this. Perhaps we should visit your mom...”

The last line was muttered more to herself, but you responded all the same. Your mother was a doctor. More than that, she was a pretty damn good one, and she specialized in childbirth and care. She’d helped numerous women through what could’ve otherwise been fatal pregnancies, not to mention you come from a very... fertile line of women.

“Would that make you feel better if I did?”

She nodded immediately, “Yes, please. If anyone will know what’s going on with you, it’s definitely her.”

“You know that’s a six-day trip, right?”

“Don’t care. I’ll work something out with Silco if need be, but I need to know what’s going on with my girl. Start packing when you get out of here, I’ll be back in 45, okay?”

You huffed, grumbling to yourself, “Watch it just be somethin’ stupid."

“Nothing’s stupid when it comes to you, dream girl. Don’t make me fuck a reminder into you when I get back.”

“You’re leavin’ without my kisses? Do y’even love me anymore,” you wailed dramatically.

You could almost sense her playful eye-roll as you heard her steps clunking back toward your shared bedroom. She bent down to meet you as you placed the liner into your new panties, pressing two kisses to your lips, “Happy now?”

“No,” you pouted, your bottom lip poked out as you looked up at her sadly.

She stooped down to your level, face softening, “What’s wrong, my love?”

“You only gave me two kisses....” you whined, dead serious.

Her face fell and she pushed your knee, “Don’t scare me like that, I thought something was really wrong, dreamy. Mmmmwah, better?”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you as she planted a very audible kiss on your lips, nodding, “Yes, thank you. And insufficient kisses it very much serious business.”

“Yeah, when it’s you depriving me, not the other way around. Hurry and get ready, okay? The sooner we figure out what’s going on with you, the better.”

“I know, I know. I’ll be fine. Go talk your way into going with me,” you waved her on, getting up from the toilet as you flushed with one hand, turning the sink on with the other to wash your hands.

She got maybe three steps away from the door before she was back in the bathroom, tugging your face to hers for a searing- almost teasing- kiss as she muttered before pulling away, “I love you, lock the doors and windows, I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Despite already missing her presence with her standing right in front of you, you managed a smile, pecking her lips once more, “Hurry, Sevi. The longer it takes you to leave, the longer I have to be here by myself.”

“Say it back first,” she mumbled against your lips, the two of you still trading kisses back and forth.

You pressed a lengthier kiss to her lips, looking up at her with a whisper, “I love you...”

She tilted her head to rest her forehead against yours, closing her eyes, “I’ll be back, okay?”

“Sev-”

“I’m fine. I’ll be back.”

She quickly suppressed the brewing tears, heading to go ask Silco for some time off to make the trip.

Sevika spent that night on the bathroom floor, bloodied and bruised, still coughing up blood periodically as she cradled her stomach, praying to whoever was out there that she didn’t die on that floor.

She didn’t die.

Even more, neither did her baby.

Sevika wasn’t excited.

She wasn’t happy to be bringing this life into the world.

Sevika was petrified about the mere idea of it all.

If she kept the baby, there was the chance her father would kill the baby, or worse, the baby would end up being abused just as she was. She couldn’t have that happen.

But did she truly want to give it away?

If the baby was lucky, it would end up being sent topside to Piltover. It’d be safe there as much as she hated to think about her child ending up being a topsider.

But more likely than not, the kid would end up just in the system. Sent off from home to home around the Lanes. Or even worse, the kid could end up being one of the many orphans on the street.

Sevika didn’t know what she wanted. Or what she would do.

To make matters worse, her father acted as if she weren’t even pregnant in the first place.

She was still working, now having to do even more ‘work’ to make up for the “lackluster performance” from the week she first found out she was pregnant. She was also working at home again, something she hadn’t done much since she’d become an adult.

It took months for her to begin showing, and by the time she had, it was almost as if her father intended for her to keep the baby. The physical abuse was now reduced to the occasional slap or hair snatch here and there, and though the verbal and emotional abuse intensified in its place, he’d begun seemingly making room for the new addition.

He was by no means happy about the prospect of his daughter having a child. But the way he saw it, that was another worker to bring money in to fund his drinking, gambling, and other vices.

The way Sevika saw it? She'd rather die than let her child go through the same things she did. Whether this was something she wanted or not, she knew that if she had to have this child, she’d protect it with her life.

It’s nowhere near the first time you’ve had to make this trip to see your mom. 6 days there, 6 days back.

The majority of your journey is spent with your symptoms playing a twisted game of roulette, alternating between which ones will be your biggest issue that day.

You’re a constant mess of tears, throwing up, gagging, whining, and for the life of you, you cannot stop peeing, only to end up releasing barely a trickle if even a few drops.

You’re tired.

Sevika is also tired.

Your wife wasn’t much of a caregiver when the two of you met. She wasn’t the worst, but it was clear that she was still very much learning. By now she's got it pretty much mastered.

She’s been holding you through everything, offering up massages, cuddles, and her fingers whenever you’re starting to get too overwhelmed by all the different compounding symptoms of what’s looking more and more like a pregnancy.

That’s when the nosebleeds started.

You’ve never had a nosebleed before. Aside from getting your nose broken that one time, you’d only ever dealt with Sevika’s nosebleeds that she gets during the winter from her nostrils drying out. But you? Never had it happen.

However, you knew what it meant.

It ran in the family. Bloody noses and sensitive- sometimes bleeding- gums were some of the earliest pregnancy symptoms within your family. If you didn’t know based on your other symptoms, all other weird yet slightly common symptoms of pregnancy, you definitely knew now.

You were both in your hotel room, the last stop before the final half-day stretch that would get you to your mother’s house, your back to her front as she trailed her fingers over your stomach, muttering affirmations and praises under her breath at how good you’d been holding up when you felt what you thought was your nose running.

You reached up to swipe at your nose with a sniff, pulling your sleeve away to find red now smeared across it, “Oh no...”

She sat up with you, eyes going wide, “Baby?”

You held your nose, pinching the bottom of your nostrils as you cupped your other hand under your chin, holding your head forward while running to the bathroom.

It’s not an overwhelming amount of blood. You’ve seen Sevika come home with much worse from particularly bloody brawls at The Last Drop for sure. But to your wife? You may as well be dying.

Sev is right on your heels, a face towel in her hands already being run under some warm tap water as she pulls you in front of her, taking hold of your chin with her mech hand and assessing the situation as she cleans your face with the towel in her other one.

“This isn’t normal.... d’you think we can leave tonight? Get a jump on some answers? I’m worried about you.”

“Baby, it’s just a nosebleed. I won’t bleed out by morning. It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

She shakes her head, turning your face side-to-side face for signs of any bruising or other things that may be outwardly wrong with you. When she finds none, she starts to gently prod at your nose with a finger, pushing against the bridge and around, “You don’t get it, dreamy. You don’t get nosebleeds. I get those like an orphan gets the cold and flu. Not you... I don’t know a single person in the Lanes who’s just never had a nosebleed like you... I’m scared.”

While you were now very certain about being pregnant, you wanted to wait to tell her, so you simply took hold of her arms- standard panic protocol between the two of you- as you spoke gently, “Baby, there’s a lot of things going on with me that just aren’t normal for me, but that’s why we’re on this trip. We’ll get answers in the morning, okay? Breathe for me, deep breaths.”

Sevika’s barrage of questions and worries fizzle out on her tongue as she locks in with you, mumbling a small, “Avalanche,” as she takes a deep breath in time with your own.

“There we go, my love. What can I do for you to make you feel a bit better right now? If you wanna get back on the road, we can. Or we can go cuddle and I’ll braid your hair. Or we can watch our show. Whenever you’re ready, just let me know, okay?”

She closed her eyes as she took a final breath, opening them once she blew it back out, “Can you braid my hair and we watch our show?”

“Of course, baby. Come on, relax time. If my nose bleeds again tonight, we’ll get up and head on immediately.”

The two of you ended up back in bed, Sevika’s head in your lap as you gave her a few braids to pull back into two little pigtails in place of her usual half pony, you guys’ show playing in the background of her giving you updates on the things she’s gotta do for Silco when you two return back home.

“And then he was literally all whiny talking about how he needs me to come in at some point when we get back so I can go head up the factory and take stock.”

You snickered, pulling a hair tie around her first little pigtail, “We need to get this man a calculator class or something. Oh, remind me it’s time for a trim when we get home, your undercut is practically long enough for me to braid it too.”

She rolled her eyes, rolling over in your lap to face you so you could do the other side of her hair, “Oh hush, it’s not that long.”

“Nah, I’m just being extra.”

“I love you...”

“I love you too.”

She squeezed her eyes closed, gritting her teeth, “I love you...”

You noticed the tense in her jaw, voice softening, “I love you more, baby.”

“Avalanche,” she said meekly, fist gripping your shirt.

You set your comb aside, pulling her up and into your arms as you wrapped your legs around her, allowing her to bury her face in your chest. Slowly rocking side to side, you stroked her hair with one hand, holding her tightly with your other arm as you pressed kisses to her temple and along her hairline, “I got you, Vika.... I’ll never let you go.... never leave... You’re safe... I love you... I’m always going to love you... nothing you do will change that... We’ve been married for so long now... We’re planning babies... We’re still gonna get our homestead... And you can have your animals... I’ll have my fruits and veggies... Me ‘n you, baby...”

You kept whispering little reassurances, reminding her about you guys’ life plan, the things the two of you have already accomplished together, the ones still to come, all while rocking her and playing in her hair. She was holding onto you for dear life. You’d been waiting for it to hit her again, knowing what time of year it was.

When her breathing evened out and her grip on you relaxed just the tiniest bit, you pulled back slightly, cleaning the crust from her eyes with your shirt before pulling the article off, tossing it to the floor. You finished her cute little pigtails while she slept, pausing to press a kiss to her nose every time she started to stir a little bit.

You watched a few more episodes of you guys’ show, making sure to put it back to where it was when she fell asleep before you relaxed as well, pulling the covers up over the two of you.

With a final kiss to her nose, this one earning a soft smile in her sleep, you leaned your head against hers before following her to sleep, mumbling, “Sweet dreams, my love... You’re gonna be a great mother...”

Pregnancy was... well...

Sevika wasn’t sure how to describe her pregnancy. She was in such a weird place after the initial day of her father finding out that she wasn’t sure what to make of anything.

One moment, he was “caring” for her- which really just meant not beating the shit out of her and pimping her out- and the next he was either acting like she didn’t exist or, again, human punching bag.

As far as symptoms, her vomiting didn’t last very long, took her maybe two weeks after that day for her to get a handle on forcing her morning sickness back down no matter what.

She really didn’t get the chance to think about it much. Sure, she had aches and pains. Sure, she had cravings. Sure, she was in and out of bathrooms like it was nobody’s business. But, those were all just minor- trivial things that ranged from annoying to slightly inconvenient at times.

The hard part was delivery.

Sevika delivered her daughter herself.

Alone, in a back alley, deep in the very heart of Zaun.

Giving birth hurt more than anything she’d ever felt before and anything she’d ever feel after.

Sevika didn’t know much about her body.

Besides the hateful things spewed about it from her father, the lustful words from her “clients”, and the few things she’d managed to sneak and read back when she was younger, she actually didn’t know much about how her body worked, let alone pregnancy.

But something seemed to come over her.

It was as if suddenly she knew everything she needed to have her baby safely.

Yes, she was giving birth in a dirty alleyway- the whole of Zaun was dirty, it was unavoidable- but even through the pain she was... calm.

She wasn’t worried about someone finding her and interfering. She wasn’t worried about her father.

All she cared about was making sure her baby made it out into this world.

And she did it.

With nothing but a lighter, a shoelace, a pocketknife, and some stolen whiskey, she delivered her baby.

A girl.

She always wanted to have a daughter when she was little.

She told herself that she’d have a girl so she could give her all the love and care that her father never showed her.

She named her Mieko.

Sevika didn’t know who the father was before now.

And even though Mieko was but a newborn, she knew.

This baby belonged to her father.

The next morning was a rush.

Sev wanted to get to your mom’s as soon as possible. She didn’t say anything about last night aside from asking if your nose had bled any more after she fell asleep, and you didn’t mention it either.

But the cloud still hung.

You noticed her fiddling with the two shell casings that hung from the same chain as her wedding ring. Every so often her hand would stray up to her neckline, fingers practically searching for the items that sat just beneath the fabric of her shirt. Each time you just gave her mech hand a little squeeze, kissing the back of it just the same as you would her flesh hand.

She was thankful you didn’t pry. You never did, actually. Sure, you knew what the casings held within them, and even more you knew exactly what it meant when she started to play with them, but you didn’t bother her about it. You gave her breath and space to grieve in her own way, never pushing for answers, never making her feel weak for showing her sadness. It was one of the many reasons she loved you so much.

Naturally, the somber mood slowly started to lift the closer the two of you got to your mother’s place of residence. You knew Sev was only mostly trying to distract herself, but you also knew how much she and your mother adored one another.

Presently, she was still fiddling with that chain of hers, rubbing the casings between her fingers as she spoke, “D’you think she’ll try and keep us here if it turns out we’re just having a baby?”

“As if you’d be opposed. The way you two act, people would swear I was the one who married in.”

She chuckled, sticking her tongue out at you, “Don’t be mad at me because moms prefers me. I’m just that guy.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully mushing her in the face, “Literally die. Don’t ever say some stupid shit like that again.”

“Or what?”

“No booty.”

“What?!” She cried incredulously, immediately on her knees, “C’mon, mama, you know I was just playing. ‘M sorry...” she trailed, looking up at you with puppy eyes.

You couldn’t help the snicker that escaped you as you pulled her up by her chin, being sure to press your lips to hers when she got close enough before she was once again standing over you, “You gotta be nice to me, okay? I’m 65 percent sure mom wrote me out of her will to put you in it.”

She rolled her eyes playfully before leaning down to kiss you once more, “Oh, please, even if she did you already know I’d just give it all to you anyway.”

“True, true.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Hell yeah. If you end up not being pregnant we’ll just try again when we get home... so long as you’re not dying or something.”

“What if I was?”

“Don’t make me beat your ass, dreamy.”

You gasped dramatically, “You tryna eat my ass?!”

“I most certainly would hope not.”

The two of you immediately forgot about the little argument that was about to start as you both raced to get to your mom first from where she stood on her porch.

“Mommy,” you exclaimed as you launched yourself into her arms.

She let out a dramatized grunt as she wrapped you up in her embrace, squeezing you tightly, “I wish you’d have told me you were coming before I felt you. Would’ve made your favorites.”

“Sorry, it was kind of an emergency.”

Sevika cut in, tugging you out of the way, “Yeah, kinda like you hogging moms right now.”

Your mother snickered, squeezing Sev just the same, “You two need to be nice and stop fighting over me all the time. You both know that I love you equally.”

“But Sev’s not even-”

“What did I just say, gummy?”

You huffed, folding your arms as you grumbled under your breath, “I can’t stand either of you.”

When the two finally released each other, your mother turned her attention back to you, raising a brow, “Sevi, baby, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything, moms.”

“Go to the garden and gather the vegetables I’ll need for stir fry, please. I’ll be in the kitchen after I finish with this one,” she requested, eyes never leaving you as she seemed to be scrutinizing you. Sev left with a kiss to your cheek and another to your mom’s temple before she practically skipped away into the garden like the overgrown kid she really was.

“Do you have something you wanna tell me?”

“What do you mean, ma?”

“You’re choosing that card? Step into my office, gummy.”

You bit your lip as you followed after her into her home office, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie, “I swear to you, I don’t think I’ve got anything worse than a cold-”

“Sit down,” she instructs, not looking to play these games with you. You shut up immediately, sitting back as she takes your vitals, “Last period?”

“9 weeks ago.”

“6 weeks late, huh?”

“I know what you’re thinking and-”

“Did you know I’ve been dreaming about fish for a month now? Tiny little fish swimming around with tadpoles.”

You looked up at her as she handed you a cup, “Seriously, ma? I’m literally your only gay child.”

She raised a brow, “What does that have to do with me? Piss. I’m testing everyone, it hasn’t just been you.”

“So you tested Ky?”

“Sure did.”

You rolled your eyes the moment your back was turned, a slipper promptly smacking you in the back of the head, “Ow! I didn’t even say anything.”

“You rolled your eyes and you were grumbling in your head about me making your brother take a pregnancy test. Obviously, I tested his wife, genius.”

You smacked, rubbing the back of your head, “I didn’t even-” she raised her other slipper and you promptly shut your mouth before grabbing her slipper from earlier, handing it back to her. “I started getting the nosebleeds,” you mumbled softly.

She looked up from her clipboard, voice and eyes softer than before, “Dear, why you know-”

“That it means I’m pregnant? Yeah... I know...”

She set her things aside, wrapping her arms around you, “Oh my little girl... all grown up... about to have a little girl of her own.”

You chuckled through the tears that had begun to fall, “We don’t even know if it’s a girl yet. Not even close to finding that out.”

She waved your argument away, rubbing your back, “Did you forget who your mother is?”

You didn’t answer, holding her a little tighter. Your mom softened, voice quiet as she questioned, “What’s wrong, gummy?”

“I’m scared...”

“Of?”

“All of it.... being a mom... having a kid in the heart of Zaun... what if... what if Sevika falls out of love with me? Or I fuck up and lose the baby somehow? Or-”

“Excuse me? I know this isn’t how I raised you to think.”

“I know, but-”

“No buts. You’re scared of being a mom? Comes with the territory. You’re scared of having your kid in the heart of Zaun? Guess what, baby girl, that’s where my mom had me, and look at how I turned out. You think you’ll somehow breathe wrong and lose the baby, I already know because I know you- you won’t. I’ll check you two out properly before you guys go back home just to be sure everything is fine and in working order with you and your body and the baby.”

“As for Sevika? Sweet girl, if you think that girl is going anywhere away from you, then you clearly have a lot of learning to do. She looks at you like you’re the very air she needs to breathe; as if you hung the sun, moon, and stars just for her. That girl loves you even more than I do, and you’re my baby,” she chimed, playfully pinching your cheek, “Make no mistake, there’s nothing that could make her fall out of love with you. Not this one. And by Janna, if she does- call me.”

You chuckled through your tears, letting out a little sigh, “I got this?”

She gave you a kiss to your forehead, “Yes, sweet girl. You’ve got this. And I’ll be here the whole time, okay? And you’ve got a wife that loves you... You’ll be okay. And if you ever want to move back up here at any time during your pregnancy or after, let me know. My door is always open, you know this.”

“I know....”

The two of you stood like that for a good while before you mumbled, “Mommy?”

“Yes, gummy?”

“Thank you.”

She let out a soft sigh, shaking her head as she held you a little tighter, “Anything for my girl. I’ll keep the news to myself so you can tell my other daughter, alright?”

“Thanks... I love you.”

She planted an audible kiss to your forehead, “Of course, little one. I love you more. Now clean that pretty little face and get yourself together. I’ll tell your wife you’re using the bathroom while we get dinner going, okay?”

You let out a happy little sigh, giving your mother one last good squeeze, “Thanks, mommy.”

She gave your stomach a little pat before turning to leave, “Don’t take too long or you know she’ll come find you. Also, you have a cold, sit your ass on the couch when you come out and don’t you dare set foot in my kitchen, you hear?”

“Yes, mommy. I’ll be out in a second.”

The door closed behind her and you placed a hand on your stomach letting out a little breath, “Now I’ve gotta figure out how to tell your mom about you, angel.”

2 years.

Sevika had been hiding her daughter from her father successfully for 2 years.

She doesn’t know how he found her. She didn’t know then and, to this day, she doesn’t know now.

She’d returned to her childhood home from a day of “work”, heart falling from her stomach as Mieko came tottering to her, wrapping around her leg.

For the longest time, fear was the only word she could use to describe that day, but no... it was something more than that. Sevika wasn’t just afraid. She was horrified. Petrified even.

How long had her daughter been alone with her father? How did he find her? How long had he known about her? Was this his first time coming into contact with her?

A million questions and terrible scenarios ran through her mind, the soft pat of her daughter’s hand on her leg pulling her from the slow descent into panic. She couldn’t help but smile at her baby, picking her up and smothering her in kisses as the little girl dissolved into giggles. She could feel her father’s eyes watching her every move.

“You take her to the back room.” His voice was gruff as always, words short and to the point.

Sevika froze. She knew what was coming for her if she let go of her daughter and faced him alone. She didn’t move, arms clutching onto her child as her heart raced even faster than her thoughts.

There had to be a way out of this.

Her father hated repeating himself. His anger was palpable, a churning storm ready to roll through the house as he slammed his fist down, “Back room, now!”

The loud noise and his elevated voice scared Mieko. She started crying. He hates crying.

Sevika slowly backed toward the front door, holding a crying Mieko to her chest as she tried to quiet her.

Wrong.

Her father was in front of her in an instant, large hands reaching for Mieko. Sevika went to turn around, run back out the door, only to have her face smashed into it, her daughter torn from her arms by his other hand. He shook the crying child, screaming at her to shut up.

Disoriented with blurry vision, Sevika stood on unsure feet, trying to reach for her daughter back.

She felt that familiar tiny hand clutch her finger for the briefest of moments before a shot rang out.

She saw red.

Sevika’s hand strayed to the shell casings around her neck frequently throughout dinner, her eyes misty and sort of far away. Your mother looked to you, wondering what was up with her daughter in law, but you waved off her concern, stroking your thumb over Sevika’s thigh in a show of silent comfort each time she withdrew from the conversation.

After dinner was finished and the dishes had been put away, your mother left for bed with a kiss to each of your foreheads. You sat on the couch with your wife, rolling a cigar for her as she curled around you, her flesh hand at your stomach, tracing patterns over the bit of skin poking from beneath your top.

You placed the ‘gar between your lips, lighting it before taking a hit and holding it out for your wife.

She took it, not hitting it, but studying it before she took a hit, sighing upon her exhale of the smoke.

“How are you feelin’,” you asked softly, playing with her semi-wavy hair that had been freed from the braids and pigtails you’d made the night prior.

“Stressed... worried...” she trailed off, voice falling quieter as she passed the blunt back to you, “sad...”

“Where do you wanna start?”

She shrugged, unwrapping herself from around you to sit up beside you, “Dunno... it’s all just a lot right now...”

You leaned your head on her shoulder, taking a couple more hits of the blunt before you passed it back to her, taking up interest in her mech hand as you started to fiddle with the metal, “Okay.... what’s got you stressed?”

“Everything...”

“But in particular at this moment?”

She didn’t answer for a few moments, eyes clouding over again. You gave her mech hand a squeeze, whispering gently, “Hey...”

“Hm?”

“You keep leaving me... Talk to me...”

“Is it possible to miss someone you’ve never met?”

Her mom.

You gave a small nod, “Entirely possible.”

“It’s like.... this longing... But it’s more than that because how can you long for something you never truly had? Even worse to miss someone who... who’s not here anymore because of you...”

Her last sentence was like a ghost, the words dissipating the moment they left her lips.

“Sevi...”

“It’s fine, I’m-”

“No, you aren’t, baby... And you don’t have to be. It’s okay to not be okay... But I wish you’d stop faulting yourself for that...”

She let out a sigh, holding the blunt out for you, “I know... Just.... can we talk about something else? Or just cuddle and smoke?”

You nodded as you took another hit, “We can do that.”

The silence that fell was comfortable, the two of you sharing the blunt back and forth until it was nothing but a roach left. You leaned to place it in the ashtray on the coffee table before moving to lay aginst Sev’s chest.

Your body was buzzing. It had been a while since you last smoked and you felt that familiar sensation of both floating and sinking into your wife’s body as you lay atop her, her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, flesh hand trazing lazy patterns along your spine.

You tilted your head slightly to look up at her, her eyes fixated on the ceiling, but not really- she was thinking.

“You have such pretty eyes,” you whispered.

Her grin was immediate as she moved her vision down to you, those silver orbs darkened in her high state, “You think so?”

You nodded, curling further into her as you closed your own eyes, “So pretty... I hope the baby gets your eyes.”

Sevika is known for being a woman who revels in violence.

The Scary lady of Zaun.

She’s the one who kicks ass and takes names- no questions.

But it wasn’t always like that.

The shot flipped a switch in her.

To be quite honest, she’s not sure what exactly killed him.

Maybe it was her beating him.

Maybe it was her bashing his skull into the wall.

Maybe she’d broken his ribs with her kicks, punctured a lung or even better his heart.

She didn’t know.

But when the rage had settled and her father lie dead on the floor, she saw her little girl.

She crumpled, those tears she’d been holding back for so long in her life ripped from her as she held her girl in her arms.

Those tiny fingers wrapped around her pinky for the last time, matching silver orbs growing dim as Mieko took her final breath in her mother’s arms.

Sevika’s heart stopped in her chest as she froze beneath you.

You sat up, looking down to find her eyes glossed over, a single tear escaping, “Sev?”

Her eyes were wide, heart hammering away in her chest, threatening to burst from it as she just barely managed to speak, “You... you’re...”

You took her hands, nodding as you whispered, “Yeah, baby... I’m pregnant.”

You were holding back tears of your own. You’d only seen your wife cry once, and that was on your wedding day. Sevika crying was as rare as you getting a nosebleed.

You cupped her face in your hands, wiping away her tears as they fell. She seemed frozen, eyes faraway again as she whispered feebly, “You...”

Sevika didn’t know what to say. She had dreamed about this moment, played it out a million different ways in her head. She just knew she’d wrap you up in her arms, a mess of kisses and giggles. But now that it was here, the two of you under the light of the fire in your mom’s living room, she was stuck.

Her eyes focused on you as you spoke, tears in your eyes, “Hey, come back to me? You okay?”

No, she wasn’t okay.

“You’re pregnant...” she whispered, still sounding like she didn’t believe it.

You let out a soft chuckle, nodding as you leaned in to kiss a line down her nose, ending with her lips, “We made a baby, Sev...”

There were stars in her eyes as she stared at you. She was never one for flowery language, she’d tried, but she always stumbled over her words or felt like she’d just come off cheesy. Her hands moved to your waist, thumbs stroking the sides of your stomach as she looked up at you, “We did...”

“We’re gonna be parents...”

“We are...” she whispered, her words thick as she blinked away a fresh batch of tears.

You didn’t wipe them away this time. Instead, you pulled her closer, wrapping your arms around her as she tucked her face into the crook of your neck. If you felt her tears soak through your shirt, you didn’t say anything, fingers combing through her hair as you rocked softly.

Sevika was swimming through her thoughts in her mind. She was petrified and ecstatic at the same time, but the fear seemed to overtake the happiness by an astounding wave, causing her to press further into you. You simply wrapped your arms tighter around her, pressing a kiss into her hair as you rubbed her back to keep her grounded.

Her mind was running about a million miles a minute. Flashbacks of her own pregnancy, her labor and delivery in that cramped alley... the few moments of peace and happiness shared with her daughter.... Mieko’s eyes as the life leaked from them...

Then she thought about you. The life the two of you have settled into together. The day that started all of this when the two of you decided to try for a baby. About all the shit you’ve had to put up with thus far and all the things to come.

She pulled back to look at you, silver eyes glistening still in the lowlight, pupils blown as she found her voice, whispering under her breath, “Thank you...”

Your eyes caught on your mother, a soft smile on your face as she mouthed, “I told you so.”

🤎©️ All work belongs to sexysapphicshopowner. Do not use or repost my content in any way without my consent or permission. Thank you! 🤎

🤎 Taglist 🤎:

@certainlynotasimp @trafalgardvivi @love-sugarr @archangeldyke-all @fyeahnix

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finsblogs · 3 months ago

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Gyro was kissing your neck, holding you against a pillar in the hayloft of the barn you were all staying at for the night, his hands groping your breasts through your shirt while Johnny was elsewhere. You shamelessly groaned at his touch, but when he attempted to unbutton your pants you grabbed his hand and stopped him.

"What?"

You just smirked at him.

"Hot as this is the last thing I'm gonna do is let your raunchy ass inside of me. Can you even pinpoint the last time you'd even bathed?"

Gyro huffed, not willing to agree with you. Sure he may have run past some rivers and streams while trying to cut time for the race, sacrificing any chances of bathing, but he was still clean enough.

"Last thing I'd want is to get a new disease named after me."

"Hey!"

Gyro pressed his forehead against yours, scowling while you smirked. His face then softened as he held your hand.

"And just what are you gonna do about this?'

He guided your hand down to his crotch, pressing against where his bulge strained against his pants.

You tilted your head, thoughtfully humming.

"I may have a workaround for that."

You pushed him away, going to your bag that you had tossed aside before this little incident. Gyro watched as you kneeled down, staring at your ass as you dug inside. Soon enough you pulled out a container of body cream he'd seen you put on before going to sleep. You crawled closer to him, tugging your bag along as well, kneeling on the ground as you began to work on his gaudy belt.

Gyro grinned, having some idea of where this was going.

"Don't even think about putting it in my mouth."

He huffed.

He did sigh when you released his member from the confines of his pants, even giving a stroke before you pulled away. Gyro laid against the same column he had you against earlier, giving his own cock a rub as he looked down at you.

"So what are you gonna do now?'

You just smirked.

You immediately started to unbutton your blouse, taking your time to let it slide down your arms, leaving you in just your riding corset. You could just feel Gyro's eyes on your pushed up cleavage.

Without even looking you proceeded to unlace it from behind, letting it fall free once it was completely untied.

You'd swear he got harder just from the sight of your bare breasts.

You then grabbed your cream, untwisting the cap and dipping your fingers to scoop a sizable dollop of it. After rubbing it between your hands Gyro watched mesmerized as you rubbed it onto your breasts, even noticing when you dug your fingers into your nipples.

When you were done you pushed your breasts together.

"Stick it in."

He grinned that golden smile of his and with a "Nyo Ho" stuck his tip underneath your breasts, shuddering as he kept sliding it in. You just pressed your breasts together even more to get that reaction out of him, Gyro practically drooling.

You then moved your breasts against his cock, rubbing it up and down with them while Gyro panted above you. Soon enough he had to grab your shoulders for support, hunching over as he thrusted into your tits, his tip peaking out of them every now and then.

You gazed up at his face, a bit proud to have turned the usual smugness on it into messy, blushing, desperation. You also pressed your fingers into your nipples for your own pleasure.

Soon you could tell he was getting close, Gyro panting even harder than before. You then held your breasts even more around his cock, loving the whine he let out as you stroked his cock with your breasts. Soon enough Gyro came, his cum flooding the valley between your breasts as you held them together around him.

You released him, Gyro falling back against the column as his legs struggled to keep him standing. You looked down at your chest, thick globs of white running down it.

"Disgusting." You commented as you gazed down at his mess.

You reached into your bag and grabbed a rag, wiping yourself clean as Gyro watched, still enamored.

He then got on his knees and grabbed your hand, stopping you.

"Allow me."

He grabbed the rag and wiped you down, absolutely taking his time as he appreciated the shape of your breasts. You shuddered when you felt him rub the fabric against a nipple, Gyro grinning at the sight. Once you were cleaned Gyro looked you in the eye as he grabbed one of your breasts, biting your lip as he rubbed his thumb into the nipple.

"I think I have a workaround for you too."

Gyro pushed you onto your back, rubbing his palm against one of your breasts as he licked the nipple of the other, you groaning at his touch. As he began to suck at your breast you'd tugged at his hair, practically feeling him smile around your nipple.

Through the heat of the moment you'd swear you could feel his newly hardened cock poking against your thigh, looking over at your cream from earlier.

You still had enough left.

#minors dni #ageless blogs dni #ageless blogs will be blocked #steel ball run #gyro zeppeli x reader #imagines #gyro zeppeli

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sleepingdeath-light · 1 year ago

Text

sebastian michaelis + fem bimbo s/o smut hcs ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (01/09/23)

fandom(s) ; black butler

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; sebastian michaelis

outline ; “would you write sebastian michaelis x bimbo reader? maybe she's smart when doing her duties, but when she knows she can relax she's just a thought-free girl sebastian can use. (maybe their contract mark is over her womb or smth; im 19)”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, bimbo!reader, dumbification kink, dom!sebastian, sadist!sebastian, overstimulation, oral sex (male and female receiving), marking kink, slight ownership kink, degradation kink, praise kink, free use kink, vaginal sex, fingering, cream pies, public / semi-public sex acts

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

sebastian michaelis is, above anything else, the perfect butler and is willing to do anything and everything in order to keep his masters safe and satisfied — whether that’s by cleaning and cooking for them or, in the case of your very unusual contract, fucking the thoughts out of them after a pressing day of work

you weren’t stupid by any means — quite the opposite, in fact, as he’s seen you masterfully manipulate peers and inferiors alike with a wit so sharp it could cut glass, and perform the duties assigned to you with such ease that he’d once questioned why you’d even formed a contract with him in the first place — but it was that same intellect that brought you the strife you’d asked him to relieve you of

after all, one can’t overthink or stress about work when their thoughts are drowned out by the feeling of being stretched out on a long, thick cock — if you’re still even able to think after he’s worked your clit so hard with those long fingers of his that you’re seeing stars and squirting so hard you’ve stained his uniform

of course during work hours he tends to you at all times, waiting on you hand and foot: waking you up in the morning with the day’s paper and fresh breakfast in bed, engaging in light banter and productive conversation with you, bringing you freshly ironed clothes suited to the day’s weather, fetching you documents and books for work, and doing other odd jobs related to the upkeep of your home — he is still a servant, after all

but when you’re ready to wind down and want nothing more than to be used and thoughtless — well, then he’s happy to indulge you there too

happy to force you to your knees (or have you lay on your back with your head hanging over the edge of your bed) and shove his cock down your throat — burying his hands in your hair and fucking your face until your cheeks and lips are covered in spit and your mascara is streaming down your face

happy to kneel between your legs as you sit at your desk or in your lounge room, massaging your thighs and waist and stomach as he uses that talented tongue and those long, slender fingers to bring you to climax over and over again — not stopping until you’re limp and gasping and sobbing, until even his eyelashes are damp with your juices, until your fingers are so tightly wound in his hair that it’s even starting to hurt him and your hands are trembling, until he’s had his fill of you

happy to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you until your legs and arms give out beneath you — legs spread as far as they can go whilst his hands roughly paw at your waist and ass and breasts (greedy and harsh and possessive), not stopping until your pussy is spent and dripping with his seed and his teeth marks are imprinted on your shoulder

happy to pick you up and fuck, finger, or lick the thoughts from your mind at any moment — you had given him free reign, after all

happy to sit you on his lap with his dick buried in your cunt, strong grip keeping you in place as he forces you to look at your reflection in the mirror — one hand gripping your chin and making you stare at the point where the two of you become one, stare at your contract mark as it flashes and pulses in time with the pulsing of your inner walls around him, not moving until you’re teary eyed and begging him to please touch you

happy to play with and tease you even in front of others: whispering absolute filth into your ear before walking away completely unaffected, giving you suggestive looks across the room whenever others can’t see him, sliding his hand a bit too far up your thigh (when sat side by side) or low down your back (when walking together) for it to be completely innocent, and even making remarks referencing things he knows you enjoy in the bedroom that to others seem completely innocent

happy to leave an array of marks all over your body as a trail of evidence showing just how much of a good girl you are for him — deep bite marks on your thighs, fingerprint bruises on your hips, scratches along your sides, nips along your throat, and deep hickeys all over your breasts (he’s very generous with how much he claims you and he seems to get off on it even after the fact, whenever he notices them on you during the day when you’re working)

happy to call you pretty and perfect and his ‘good girl’ in the same breath that he mocks you for being ‘desperate’ and ‘needy’ and ‘slutty’ — praising you for your obedience and receptiveness and reactiveness to his touch and voice and yet teasing you for being ‘so wet already’ when he hasn’t even touched you yet, even playfully spanking your clit and chuckling against your throat when you yelped and flinched away from his touch

(he is a demon, after all, so it’s only natural that he’d be at least somewhat sadistic in the bedroom — and you have plenty of bite marks, bruises, and scratches all over your body to prove it)

(and he’s at his roughest when you show off your contract in one way or another — such as when you call him ‘my demon’ or wear something that intentionally shows off your contract mark, which will lead to much more possessive behaviour when you’re alone)

he’s also not at all opposed to fucking or playing with you in public or semi public areas — at most he might suggest finding somewhere a bit more private in order to preserve your reputation amongst your peers, but if you’re insistent then your demon is hardly going to refuse you (just know that he’s not going to go gentle on you just because you decided to proposition him where others might hear or see you, he’s still a demon after all)

but, of course, sebastian is still your loyal servant and once the fun has been had he’s there to take care of you in the aftermath: running you a warm bath, tending to any injuries so they don’t get infected, wiping away all of the blood and cum and saliva without complaint, reassuring and praising you for being so good for him, putting you in fresh bed clothes, and even bringing you some food and water to help you completely recover

you still have work to do and no butler worth his salt would let his mistress risk her career over something so minor

#sleepingdeath #minors dni #minors fuck off #minors don’t touch #ageless blogs dni #ageless blogs will be blocked #female reader #female reader smut #bimbo reader #smut #smut hcs #black butler smut #black butler x female reader #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji smut #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji x female reader #sebastian michaelis smut #sebastian michaelis x reader

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ohnococo · 9 months ago

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How To Fight | MMA Fighter!Toji x Physical Therapist!Reader

You love your job as a Physical Therapist, and would rather avoid any complications. Unfortunately MMA Fighter Toji Fushiguro has taken a liking to you. Despite your better judgement, you've taken a liking to him too.

✧ wc: 6.3k

✧ notes: A song fic taking place in the MMA AU. The song lyrics referenced are from How To Fight by Eartheater

✧ warnings: eventual angst, mma!au, no curse au, widowed Toji, divorced Toji, single dad Toji, fem bodied reader, pronouns used (she/her), pet names (sweetheart), flirting, unwanted advances, pussy referred to as 'she', physical therapist reader, recurring injury, injury recovery, vaginal sex, cumshot

i've tasted metals of my own blood, and learned to like it

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

It was against everything you stood for to be happy to see a client again, given your line of work, but Toji was different. Against your better judgement, he had somehow managed to work his way into your mind, burrowing past that steely wall of professionalism you kept up at all times with those in your care. You were determined to never let him know that, though.

“Well, Toji, I would prefer it if you didn’t keep getting yourself injured.”

He breezes right past that. “Just let me take you out, it’ll be a lot nicer than pushing me around and cracking my joints.”

It was a simplification bordering on misunderstanding your work, as if you were some chiropractor, but you know he’s only saying it to get you shoving him around with that tinge of annoyance he feeds right into your veins. You try not to give in, because you’re always trying not to give in to Toji, really. Then he’s resisting, just enough to make you really have to work to guide him in the stretch you want him to do, and he’s managed to get you right where he wants you yet again. You tug at his hips, guiding him into movements he should be familiar with by now.

“Just let me do my job.”

You had no intention of accepting his advances, whether they were in the form of invitations to dinner, sparkling bedroom eyes, or flirtatious comments that would have had you kicking anyone else right out of your office. Not Toji, though. With him, you just find yourself slowly allowing him to speak to you more and more familiarly.

The corner of his mouth lifts smugly just as he’s turning away, taking his gaze off of you directly to watch you in the mirror along the wall next to the mat you were standing on. He allows you to move him for a moment, only offering light resistance now, as if you could truly make him do anything he didn’t want to, then continues the twisting motion on his own. You watch his body carefully, avoiding eye contact because you already know those green eyes are fixed on your face, trying to coax you into giving him the smallest inch to turn into a mile.

“If you want your hands on me you don’t gotta use your job as an excuse.”

You ignore him outright, drowning out any potentially untoward thoughts with a strengthened focus on your work. As always, it works, and you note on your assessment forms that his hip mobility was normal. You knew it would be, that Toji knew how to throw his punches properly, but you’re always thorough with your checklist whether it was for the reasons Toji accused you of or not.

“Stand against the wall.”

He lets out a whistle, hands up as he does, “Gonna frisk me?”

“I’m gonna refer you to Yaga so you can get wrung out like a wet rag if you don’t do what I tell you.”

“Ooh, that doesn’t sound too bad, actually.”

“Toji.”

He chuckles as he settles into the position he already knows you want him in, doing lunges with the wall as a marker for how deep to press forward as you watch his ankle and knee movements.

“All good there.” You tap his back, nodding as you make your notes while he stands in wait.

“Okay, upper body.”

You know this is where he’ll need the work, as usual, and you’re quick to go through your checks with the right shoulder, moving onto his problem area. You already knew from his post-fight medical, but are happy to find, as you watch his movements as he lifts and rotates his arm, that it’s no more serious than the last time.

“Left shoulder…” you say aloud as you note it.

He looks annoyed, at himself rather than at you, “Always is.”

It makes you feel bad for him, in a way. He wasn’t really reckless in the ring. He knew his body too well and was too calculated with how he approached his fights. Unfortunately, it was simply a recurring injury, as shoulder issues often were. Something that was always going to pop back up sooner or later, but with the way Toji took so many fights even as he neared his forties it seemed to be “sooner” more and more often.

As you rotate his arm, feeling where he tenses and softening your movements, you share a little of your optimism with him - couched in realism, of course.

“Don’t look so sad. It’s similar to the last one, so it shouldn’t be too long before we have you out there in the ring living your best life.”

He laughs at that, sounding a little dryer than his usual flirty chuckle, “I’m not living my best life in there.”

You glance up at him while you continue your assessment, brows raising in muted interest before he continues.

“Put it this way, I like it because I like the money. I don’t love fighting.” He thinks on it a little more before adding, “I do love finishing fights, though.”

To you, there was little difference between those two things, but then you weren’t the one doing the fighting so you accept his feelings on the matter. “That’s fair. I think it’s kind of rare to really love your job.”

As you firmly grasp his bicep, lifting his arm outwards, he flexes for just a moment, grin returning to its usual wolfish state, “Bet you love your job though. Groping men all day.”

You release his arm, letting it fall for only a moment, but catching it as soon as he winces, “I’d love it a lot more if you let me do it without those kinds of comments.”

“Ehh,” he tilts his head, brows raising in disbelief at your continued assertions that you didn’t get any sort of satisfaction out of this (and you didn’t… until him). “I think you get something out of them.”

You ignore him again, returning to your desk to note your recommendations. “Four to six weeks of sessions, as usual.” You look up at him then, indirectly threatening him to behave, “Four will probably do though.”

It shouldn’t have been a threat, getting him back up to snuff as efficiently as possible, but it had become one by now with Toji. It was a joke, of course. Toji would feign being hurt by the thought of it, but was always happy to be able to accept his next fight as soon as possible.

But sometimes it didn’t feel like a joke. Sometimes you did want a little more time basking in his flirtations. Toji Fushiguro had unfortunately grown on you and it often left you feeling ashamed. His reputation precedes him. He’d even been married when he first came into your office, and here you were worrying about missing those butterflies in your stomach at his little reminders that he is completely fixated on you.

When you find yourself smiling a little too widely at him, or even thinking about him outside of your sessions, you have to remind yourself that there was nothing actually there. It was just what he was like with anyone that caught his eye, even if it was only ever you he was assigned to once you’d started working there.

The why of it all wasn’t a mystery in the beginning. He was a relentless flirt that, based on how cagey some of your coworkers were about hearing he would be in your care, had apparently enjoyed his time with many of them before you. You didn’t mess around about your job, though. You loved your work, and you loved the convenience of this position, so you’d decided that you absolutely would not be added to his list of conquests.

At first keeping that professional level of disinterest was easy. It had seemed so obvious that he’d move on and request another PT work with him after the first of his recurring injuries led to several sessions worth of you rejecting his advances. That wasn’t the case, though. Maybe that was exactly why he kept coming to you and only you. The challenge.

And it was a challenge, for the both of you. You were intent on giving him nothing, and he was intent at making that as hard as possible for you without even really trying. By the third time he’s booked in for several sessions with you for post-fight recovery, you find yourself actually letting your guard down around him, if only a little. You might have even missed him.

i've gone under the knife of love, dissected every vein and vessel

Another week, another therapy session, another attempt to keep your composure, even with how relentless Toji is.

“How long are you gonna keep making me ask before you let me take you to dinner?”

You shoot him a look. The answer should be never, followed by asserting quite bluntly that you don’t sleep with clients, since he wasn’t exactly being subtle. That’s what the answer used to be, at least. It’s not quite that direct now, though. “How long are you going to keep getting yourself injured and winding up here?”

He puts his hand to his heart, feigning pain, “Listen, if I didn’t have a bum shoulder I wouldn’t get to come and be your favourite client.”

“I wouldn’t say favourite.”

He lifts his head from your massage table, flashing you a winning smile and the closest to puppy dog eyes a man like Toji could muster. “Cutest?”

“I wouldn’t say that either.”

He closes his eyes, relaxing onto your table as you move and massage his shoulder firmly, “Whatever you say, sweetheart…”

Toji really did enjoy testing you. Especially with his favourite little pet name for you. Sweetheart. ’Even though you’re not too sweet to me’ he’d said with a little pout, entirely undercut by his hungry eyes. You used to shoot him looks that could have killed a man on the spot in some other universe. Now you don’t look at him at all when he says it, it feels too risky. It feels like something in your eyes will give you away.

You throw out another of the many threats Toji knows are baseless by now, said as many times and with as little conviction as most of your defences against him. “You’re lucky I don’t kick you out.”

He peeks at you through barely opened eyes, as you stretch his arm outward, “That's what I’m saying, you’ve got a soft spot for me.”

That’s your final signal to put your proverbial work hat on a little more snugly as you push down, and he taps his fingers against you, indicating his limit for this particular stretch. He understands you’re truly done with the conversation as you pat his side and step back.

“Alright, time for strengthening exercises.”

This was the part he always got bored with. You weren’t touching him now, not after the first time to demonstrate what you wanted from him. You weren’t naive enough to believe him when he kept feigning a need for more hands-on guidance as he goes through the recommended motions. A man doesn’t get to the point of looking like Toji without knowing how to lift weights - especially not the small ones you had him on just to slowly get his strength back in his shoulder.

Even then, lying on the floor, raising a little 5 pound weight with his healing arm while you stand above him watching closely, he’s still ready to run his mouth.

“I like this.”

“It feels alright?”

“The weight is fine, but I like having you standing over me like that.”

You give him nothing, pursing your lips as you put the tip of your shoes between his arm and the ground, “Keep your arm up, don’t bring it down too far.”

Ignoring his comments is the best you can do sometimes. Even if it gets harder with every session as you start to actually look forward to it deep down. Even if it becomes your only defence until you’re spending a good chunk of these sessions in a near haze, trying to force as much emotional distance as possible once his flirting starts up.

His comments were uncalled for, and so was the way it made you feel. You were far from the type to be desperate for the attention of a man like him, and the way your body responded to him only pissed you off the more it excited you. All you can do, or all you’re willing to do, is shut it down, and remember that you have a job to do.

—

After three more sessions of this you’ve convinced yourself that you’re more than ready to discharge him and hopefully enjoy a peaceful several months without the risk of seeing his face again. The fact that it never used to take convincing to enjoy having the walking talking complication out of your life is something you aren’t willing to address.

“You’re gonna miss me, aren’t you?”

“Don’t start, Toji.”

You know you can’t really tell him what to do, unfortunately.

“You don’t have to if you-“

“That’s right, I don’t have to miss you, and I won’t. Hopefully you don’t go getting yourself injured again so you can come and bother me more.”

Your tone has him sucking in air through his teeth and grimacing a little.

“I don’t exactly like getting injured.” He looks away as he speaks and it’s strange not having his eyes on you like you were some sort of prey to be carefully observed. “I couldn’t even help my son move into his dorm. Cage fighter dad that can’t even lift a fucking box. It pisses me off.”

He shrugs, eyes back on you, lit up anew, “But at least I get to see your pretty face, huh?”

As much as you don’t enjoy Toji’s comments, you like these little glimpses of something else even less. Because he does talk to you. About his day, about little things that pop in his head when he’s bored of flirting for seconds at a time. And it makes it much harder not to get a little too attached when he isn’t just being a simple womaniser.

It sometimes makes you feel like Toji thinks you’re some sort of therapist - when he’s not relentlessly trying to get you into his bed. And you know that’s what all of his flirting is, of course.

Because his reputation precedes him. Yes, he’ll take someone out. Yes, they’ll have a good time. Yes, they’ll fuck. Except in your case you aren’t a part time receptionist or ring girl that might be able to avoid awkward situations with him during the nothing that comes after all of that. And you aren’t willing to mess up the good thing you have with your job, even though some of your coworkers seemed to be.

What wasn't mentioned to you as part of his reputation, was the little breadcrumbs of who he was beneath the charm and muscle. It’s known he was a prodigy in his sport. It’s known he retired young to be a family man. And it’s known he came back, 5 years later, newly widowed.

He doesn’t talk about his first wife much, because why would he? Any brief mentions of her are with an undying warmth and love that undercuts his reputation as a heartbreaker. She’s special. The mother of his child, his first love. The former is stated, the latter is obvious. Nothing short of that would melt that hardened mask of indifference.

His second wife, he doesn’t speak about at all. You only know of her because he mentions a step-daughter, and because when he’d flirted with you from the very first time he’d entered your care your eyes had locked onto the ring on his finger with contempt for how little it apparently meant. By the time you see him next, nearly half a year and another injury later, he isn’t wearing the ring anymore.

Something in you feels flattered when you ask Toji about how his son was finding college in front of a coworker who had been here much longer than you, and they’re shocked as they say they didn’t know he had kids. Then, you’re left even more annoyed at him for giving you more complications to maintaining a necessary level of professional distance in your job.

Small talk shouldn’t feel so heavy.

Helping people recover shouldn’t make you have to deal with these thoughts.

i know how to fight, how to fuck, how to die, how to resurrect my pride

When you give in, it’s in the worst way. He doesn’t even take you to dinner, you don’t give him a chance to. It’s his fourth time in your care, this time for an ankle injury. Something basic, something much more simple to deal with than his recurring problem. Something that will get him out of your hair in no time.

He isn’t simple to deal with though, telling you about the dogs his son adopted, how he never really got how people got so attached to animals growing up, but now he gets it. He’s got you comfortable, not even thinking about how your guard is down, nor about how you even smile at him as he shows you a picture of his son, buried under two masses of fluff and begrudgingly smiling at the camera.

“God, Toji, you really just have a little twin there, don’t you?”

He laughs, looking at the picture of his son, before setting his phone aside on the mat. “Nah, there’s a lot of his mom in there.”

You smile, patting his shoulder in a rare touch outside of professional reasons, “That’s nice.”

He lies back on the mat, out of your reach, “You’re nice, for once.”

You get back to work, wrapping your hands around his ankle and bending his foot slowly. “I’m nice to people who aren’t constantly trying to get into my pants.”

“Hey, who said I was trying to do that? I’m just trying to take you out.” He sits up and leans onto his elbows, “but if that’s the kind of thing you’re interested in…”

“I’m interested in doing my job. I don’t mind talking to you when you relax with the inappropriate comments.”

“I’ve gotta prove myself to you before you’ll let me take you out, got it.”

“Is that what I said, Toji?”

Toji shrugs, fully relaxing back onto his elbows, and you pull on his foot gently. “That’s what I heard.”

You shoot him a look that you hope can put fear into the heart of even him. Instead, it only seems to inspire other emotions as he forms his scarred lips into a pout that misses the mark of garnering pity for his plight as a man rejected yet again, though you’re certain Toji knows exactly what he’s doing when he makes faces like that. Even with his lips puckered and sticking out slightly, even with his brows fashioned into a worried frown, his eyes telegraph exactly what he’s thinking about.

It crumbles your resolve, leaving you looking away first as you let out a sigh you hope comes across as frustration instead of weakness. You readjust your position squatting down next to him on the mat, trying to get a feel for the flexibility of his ankle before you start guiding him through putting some of his weight onto it as he straightens the other leg and lifts his hips off the mat before settling back down.

He’s quiet then, for much longer than you were used to, and you take the silence as an opportunity to work in peace as you rotate his foot again. When you look back up at him it has your heart beating a little faster than it should be. His teeth press lightly at his lower lip, his eyelids are only half open, and his brow quirks as if just your look had the same effect as having said something dirty.

“What is it now?”

You expect him to make some comment about your hands on his body, how they were lingering even now. He makes you wait for it though, tilting his head from one side to the other as he looks you up and down, smiling like he has a secret he’s debating keeping.

Another sigh falls from your lips, filled with actual frustration this time, and when he sits up it feels like he’s towering over you in a way you simply could not overcome, despite being able to easily stand and remove yourself from the pull of his gaze. The way he peers at you, even more intense than usual, has the back of your neck tingling and you’re forced to swallow hard even with the fear that something as simple as that would give you away.

His gaze softens, dipping back into something cooler, as if he’s backing away from an animal signalling that an approach would not be treated kindly. He takes a deep breath, and you don’t even notice you’re following suit until you both exhale at the same time.

It’s as if he’s settling whatever that moment was with just a look, deciding not to make the final jump to cross that imaginary line, and it puts you at ease enough that his words are like a punch to the gut.

“You’re pretending you don’t like it, but your neck is doing that thing.”

“What? What are you talking about?” You’re blowing it, far too defensive even though you truly aren’t actually sure what he means.

“Here.” He brings a hand to your neck, tracing a finger down the length of it, stopping just above your collarbones. “You always tense riiiiight there.”

He pulls his hand back, settling it on his thigh, and you let out the breath you’d been holding from the moment his hands were coming towards you. It makes you realise you’d been so focused on controlling everything you did or said that you’d been clenching yourself like a fist every time his words, or actions, left you melting inside. It also makes you realise that was the first time he’d put his hands on you in a way entirely unrelated to your work since he shook your hand the day you’d met.

You’re horrified at having been found out. You’re even more horrified as you realise you hadn’t really been hiding anything anyway. It’s left you with no clue how to respond, and you suddenly feel so aware of your every movement, unable to decipher how to behave when your little act had been so, so obvious to him from the start.

“Look, if you really want me to stop, I’ll st-“ he pauses, looking up as he thinks, scrunching his nose and tilting his head as if he’s weighing options. “Well, I’ll try to stop. I can’t make any promises…”

He’s pausing again, thinking again, looking you up and down as he licks his lips, before he crosses his legs, pulling his ankle out of your grasp and resting his elbows on his thighs as he leans forward. It forces you to react, as if on instinct, and lean back off of your feet to seat yourself with knees raised and acting as a final barrier between the two of you. He lets you keep that distance you’d gained, but brings a hand to hover over your knee so closely that you’re not sure if he’s touched you yet or if it’s just the heat radiating off of him setting your nerves on fire.

You can’t even bring your eyes away from his to check, and realise that you wouldn’t exactly want to move further away whether his touch was real or imagined. His gaze has you locked in place just as much as your own head as you find yourself thoroughly buried in your own pit of uncertainty as everything moves too fast for your mind to catch up.

“You don’t want me to stop though, do you sweetheart?”

His eyes, the heat of him, his low words digging through that pit in your stomach to reach for your core, it all has you feeling too lightheaded to be able to think at all. You can barely even feel yourself shaking your head, body much more honest than you had been willing to be all this time.

“Thought so.”

He leans in, brushing his nose back and forth against yours, smiling with the cute gesture, then that grin spreads wider as you tilt your head, your eyes fluttering closed as you wait for him to just kiss you. He doesn’t, waiting long enough that you’re forced to open your eyes and confront the sight of that hungry face yet again, and this time his gaze has you outright clenching.

“Big girls don’t get what they want by acting all shy, do they?”

It’s too much, you feel humiliated, you feel sick, you feel like you’ll pass out if he keeps working you up without even putting his hands on you properly.

“Kiss me. If you wanna.”

You don’t know who you are, needing to be told what to do like this. You question who you are again, as you follow orders in a way you never would have before you’d been called out like this and press your lips to his, letting out a breath that’s shaky enough to have you revealing just how desperate you were. When you start to wonder who you are for the third time, for kissing a client, at work no less, you drown out that thought by parting your lips against his.

He responds with softly parted lips of his own, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him as he slots his mouth against yours. You wait for his tongue, flitting the tip of yours against his lower lip, and when it does not come you’re clinging to his shirt, bunching it at his shoulders. You’re forced to hold onto those broad shoulders properly when he lies back and his hands on your waist bring you with him to settle you on top of him - wordlessly reiterating that you would need to pull yourself together and set the pace here.

It’s your final push, as you straddle him with hands braced against his chest and slide your tongue into his mouth. Feeling the body you’d had your hands on far too many times, this time beneath you and with your ability to lie to yourself about the effect it has on you stripped away, has you salivating. You set all shame aside for this moment as you grind down against him, indulging in the feel of his stiffening cock beneath layers of thin fabric.

That tense feeling threatens to return, prickling at the back of your neck as he laughs into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and guiding your movements against him with strong hands on your hips. It’s gone again as he lifts his hips gently, using your weight against you as you only press harder onto him. You squeeze at his pecs, groaning into his mouth as you finally goad him into kissing you back with the same intensity you were now pouring into him, and it’s as delightfully invasive as you’d tried your hardest not to imagine it would be time and time again. It sends a tremble through your thighs, the wetness pooling in your panties all too obvious to you as all of your hidden desperation pulses through you straight from your pussy.

You forget yourself while kissing him like this, unaware of how long you’ve been on top of him, unaware of how you were moaning outright with just the friction between you, unaware of anything but feeling and tasting and touching as much of Toji as you could.

He’s aware though, aware of everything just as he always has been. How your thighs squeeze at his hips, the way your moans start sounding more like breathy little whines, how your tongue stops moving for seconds at a time against his. And it’s all he needs to keep this momentum going so quickly that everything but the two of you is an unintelligible blur.

“You gonna cum just like this?”

You don’t really want to answer it, and the look you give him as you try to keep him kissing you rather than talking has him chuckling, light and breathy against your skin.

“Sweetheart… if you’d just let me take you out from the beginning you wouldn’t be so pent up and begging for it…”

It takes more concentration than you have available to you right now to steady your voice. “I’m not begging.”

He takes in your face, biting at his lower lip as he slides two fingers into your mouth. He wiggles them around, sliding over your tongue, practically fucking your mouth with those thick fingers, knuckles catching at your tightened lips. “You aren’t…”

His fingers leave your mouth just as you were starting to actually enjoy the intrusion, and he slips his hands into your leggings, past your panties, stopping you from pressing down against his clothed cock like you had been as he circles your entrance slowly, “but she is.”

Then, his hand is gone, resecured on your hips, steadying your movements. “But you’re the boss here, not her. So if you don’t want it…”

“Come on, Toji.” You’re chastising him, even if you’re in no position to do so with your thighs tensing and your hips begging to keep moving against him.

He clicks his tongue against his teeth, “Like I said, you’re the boss. So I don’t move without orders.”

And he doesn’t. He doesn’t keep kissing you, even when you press your lips against his again, sighing out your frustration against his soft smile. He doesn’t release your hips to let you keep stoking your fire on his body. He doesn’t do anything but look up at you with a hungry glint in his eye, enjoying every moment it takes you to push your pride aside to ask him for exactly what you’ve wanted longer than you can admit to yourself.

“I want to cum.”

“Just you? Not a very good boss, huh…”

You groan, frustration with him reaching a fever pitch, “I want you to fuck me.”

He closes his eyes, smiling wide and letting your words wash over him. It’s music to his ears, and when he looks back up at you his pupils are blown and you know he’s done holding back. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.”

His arm is around your waist then, keeping you steady as rolls you over, settling himself between your thighs and you’re now looking up at him. You feel the tensing of his body, and come back to yourself enough to give him a concerned look.

He catches it, pressing a hand to your cheek and rubbing his thumb over your lips in an attempt to soothe those worries.

“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” He shifts so he’s not putting weight onto his ankle, pulling at your shoes until they’re sliding off and hitting the ground. You lift your hips as you work your own leggings and underwear down, straightening your legs for him to remove them for you before he’s spreading you wide with hands on your inner thighs. He slides a hand towards your pussy, rubbing his thumb through your wetness and sucking air through his teeth at the way it slips around with ease.

“You really were gonna cum like that, weren’t you?”

You run your hands over your face, unwilling to endure any more teasing, “Just fuck me, Toji.”

He whistles, releasing your thighs and tugging the waistband of his shorts down just enough to release his cock, and you look up to his face, refusing to give him a reaction until he’s sliding inside you just as you’ve asked. He braces himself on one of his elbows, leaning over you and letting his cock hang heavily against your stomach. His hair tickles at your face as he kisses you again before requesting a final affirmation before following the orders you’d given.

“Want me to go slow?”

He really does wear your patience thin, enough that you answer without thinking, “No.”

“Okay…” he sounds doubtful, but continues on as he grips himself at the base and rubs the head of his cock through your wetness.

You squeeze at his sides, prompting him to look at you instead of at his own cock below. “Do not cum inside me.”

It’s stern enough to make Toji laugh, your voice sounding much more like your usual self for just a moment. “Don’t worry, I don’t want any more responsibilities.”

You don’t know if you trust Toji, but right now you don’t exactly trust yourself either. Especially not when having this man you’d spent ages closing yourself off to split you open on his cock in one merciless push has you wincing and taking it like it was exactly what you deserved for being so weak to him.

Toji pauses, balls deep, eyes clouded as he looks down at you. “I asked if you wanted me to go slow.”

It’s said with a hint of pity and a look that says ’you did this to yourself’, though he does stay still, kissing you again and removing your need to try and collect your thoughts enough to reassert that you knew your body, not him.

He doesn’t hold back for long though, and once you’re sighing into his mouth again, your tongue’s movements sloppy and unfocused, he starts moving his hips slowly. He starts with shallow thrusts, hips barely leaving yours. Then, as your body relaxes and your pussy accommodates him with a telltale squelch, he pulls out further, fucking you harder. Once your thighs are gripping at his hips he sits up, gathering more momentum in his thrusts at the slight change of angle.

He presses his hand to your abdomen, thumb making out a steady pace on your clit as his hips make angled thrusts that have his cock working at you with purpose. The moan it draws from you is punctuated with your eyes rolling, trying desperately to refocus on the face of the man above you. He bites at his lip, nodding and groaning at the feel of you tightening as he finds the movements that have your hands trying to grip at something below, but only meeting the dull squeak of your fingertips sliding against the mat. He leans back, reaching up to grab at the back of the collar of his shirt and tug it over his head, tossing it aside. He grasps both of your wrists firmly, pulling your hands up to rest against his stomach as he looks down at you with a challenge in his eyes.

“C’mon, touch me.” He smiles, wide and wicked, “Like you’ve always wanted to.”

You do just that, running your hands over his abs, grazing your thumb over his belly button, tracing your fingers along the prominent vein on his abdomen that leads down below to where the two of you are connected. Then, your hands travel back upwards, gripping at his pecs. His hand returns to press at you, thumb back to playing with your swollen clit, and having that touch back so suddenly has you squeezing Toji’s pecs hard, drawing a moan from him.

“There you go.” It adds even more enthusiasm to his thrusts, speed picking up as he leans over you, propping himself up on one hand as he digs deep to have you squeezing him again.

This time your touch is intentional as you squeeze at the flesh, a slight give present before you reach hardened muscle, and when you graze your nails over his nipples he’s shivering above you, bucking into you harder. The way he rubs at your clit is almost mechanical in its precise speed and pacing, a steady climb punctuated by those thrusts that stroke your insides in a way that makes your body tingle and your toes curl.

“That easy, huh?”

The audacity helps you lock eyes on him, if only for a moment, and while his smug smile builds a small fury at the back of your mind, your receive vindication in the flutter of his lashes and slight twitch of his upper lip as he tries to ignore the call of his tightening balls. It gives you what you need to dig deep, rocking your hips up into his thrusts, unearthing the orgasm just below the surface for the both of you.

You find yours first, putting your trust in Toji as you let go and bounce into him as it rips through you white hot and powerful enough to have you curling in on yourself, head buried against Toji’s chest and legs clamping him until his hips are pressed to yours. He pushes past even the strength of your legs and pulsing pussy, thrusting until you release him, lying back, and your head has barely hit the mat below before he’s pulling out.

“Fuck…” it’s hissed out as he sits up and jerks at his cock roughly, head falling back while his hips buck up and into his fist. His cum spatters down, first landing on your shirt until you tug it up, hopeless as the task was with your clothes already ruined, and take the rest of it onto your bare stomach.

He’s left panting, you’re left panting. He looks like he’s won at something, you feel like you’ve lost.

#reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked #my writing #mma!au #mma!toji #mma fighter!toji #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #x reader #self insert

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