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cbeargyu · 2 months ago

Text

what you want

summary: you and taeyong have been best friends since college, sharing your adult lives side by side—your flower shop, his branding firm, countless shared memories. but as you near your 30s, the yearning to become a mother grows unbearable. during a reunion trip to jeju island, a tipsy conversation turns into something tender, raw, and irreversible. what begins as comfort and shared vulnerability becomes something deeper—intimate confessions, unspoken love, and the beginning of a quiet forever.

pairing: bestfriend taeyong x fem!reader

genre: slow-burn, friends to lovers, emotional smut, soft romance, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, eventual pregnancy.

warnings: breeding kink, unprotected sex (consensual, emotional context), impregnatio, pregnancy mention, emotional vulnerability, suggestive adult themes (18+), heavy romantic tension with soft resolution.

wc: 4,5K

notes: hi hiiii, okay so i've been dying to read smutty taeyong fics lately and it's been ALMOST impossible to find 😭 like 90% are mxm and there's barely any tae x reader content out there... if anyone has recs pls drop them in the comments ily. alsooo it's probably painfully obvious by now that i'm obsessed with the whole breeding kink + domestic fluff combo BYE that's literally my favorite thing ever 😩🫠💗

you’ve always been close to taeyong.

since college, really—when you met in that ridiculously stuffy marketing class during your second year. he was late that day, hair still damp from a rushed shower, a printed branding portfolio tucked under one arm, and somehow, he still managed to slide into the seat beside you with an easy smile and that soft voice.

you became inseparable after that. group projects, late-night convenience store runs, silent study sessions that turned into hours of talking about everything and nothing. you built a quiet rhythm with him, one that never required a label or explanation.

you opened your flower shop right after graduation. taeyong built his own creative agency, specializing in branding and design—sleek, intentional, always poetic in its aesthetic. you sent him flowers for his launch day; he designed the logo for your storefront for free. "it’s a gift," he said when you tried to pay him, his voice warm over the phone. "besides, i owe you for all the coffee you bought me during thesis week."

now in your late twenties, things feel stable. solid. your dreams are real. you run a blooming business. taeyong’s agency is doing well. life, on the surface, is soft and good. but there’s one thing that sits heavily in your chest.

you want a baby.

you’ve wanted one for years. even when you were young, you imagined yourself as a mother before anything else—before being a florist, a business owner, a woman navigating city streets with earbuds in and a tote bag full of errands. you crave that connection, the physicality of pregnancy, the quiet intimacy of raising someone who came from you.

but dating? nonexistent. your schedule is tight, your circle small, and the men you do meet are more interested in weekend flings than parenting plans. you’ve been obsessively reading about IVF, sperm donors, even traditional remedies your grandmother used to whisper about. you bring it up to taeyong one night, half-laughing as you scroll through forums.

“i don’t know what to do,” you admit, looking over the rim of your mug at him. “i’m not seeing anyone. i don’t want to wait until i’m forty. and i want to carry them. i want to feel them growing inside me.”

taeyong goes quiet.

he doesn’t have the answers, but he listens. tells you that you’d make an amazing mother. suggests maybe you could consider adoption, but you shake your head gently.

“i want to be pregnant,” you whisper. “i want them to be mine from the start.”

he nods.

he doesn’t push.

a few days later, he messages you.

taeyonggie👺 [11:13am]: remember our old classmates? they’re planning a reunion trip to jeju. want to go? they said you’re welcome too.

you hesitate, then say yes. maybe a change of scenery is what you need. something about the sea and the quiet and the way jeju always smells like citrus and wind.

you don’t expect to feel so at ease.

you arrive together, him beside you on the plane, headphones shared between you as you both doze off mid-flight. you’re staying at a cozy hotel not far from the beach—modern but warm, all wood accents and soft lighting.

there’s a mix-up at check-in.

“two rooms for y/n and taeyong?” the clerk asks.

“no, just one,” taeyong corrects, glancing at you. “two beds, please.”

you nod. it’s nothing new. you’ve stayed over at each other’s apartments before. this is the same. right?

your room has two full-size beds, a window view of the ocean, and barely enough space for both your suitcases. you joke about how you’ll end up tripping over each other, and taeyong just grins, tossing his duffel onto the bed by the wall.

the first two days are calm.

nakamoto yuta—now a travel content creator, all sun-kissed skin and open laughter—is the life of the group. seulgi, working as a creative director for a fashion label, is effortlessly elegant, always with a camera around her neck. also in the group: kwon eunbi, a vocal coach; hwang minhyun, managing a production company; kim seolhyun, running a podcast on pop culture; and kim hanbin, now a choreographer.

you spend your days exploring the island.

taeyong helps you pick tangerines from the orchard. you braid small wildflowers into your hair, and he snaps a photo when you’re not looking. he buys you honey ice cream and insists on carrying your bag when your shoulder starts to ache.

it feels like nothing’s changed.

but there’s a moment.

you’re inside the hotel lounge, grabbing drinks. yuta and taeyong sit near the back, shoulders low, conversation soft between them.

“you still in love with her?” yuta asks, voice easy but not teasing.

taeyong chokes on his drink. coughs. blushes.

“no,” he says, eyes flickering. “i mean, not anymore. that was...college. i’m over it.”

yuta raises a brow. “you sure?”

taeyong doesn’t answer right away. his fingers tap against the glass, slow. thoughtful.

“she wants a baby,” he says eventually. “that’s all she talks about now.”

“so give her one,” yuta shrugs.

taeyong laughs quietly. like it’s ridiculous. like it’s tempting.

he doesn’t bring it up again.

but something shifts.

you notice him watching you a little longer than usual when you laugh. his gaze lingers on the curve of your jaw, the line of your collarbone, the way you absentmindedly rest a hand over your stomach when you’re lost in thought.

you don’t say anything either.

you’re still just friends.

sharing a room.

sharing a life.

almost.

dinner that night is golden.

the kind that stretches out with laughter, grilled seafood, tangerine wine, and flickering lanterns strung up between pine trees. the restaurant is open-air, tucked near the cliffside with a view of the ocean glowing beneath the full moon.

everyone's a little tipsy by the time dessert comes around. yuta’s telling stories about backpacking in morocco and the time he accidentally ended up at a wedding. seulgi keeps taking pictures of everyone's reactions, cheeks flushed from wine. hanbin and seolhyun are arguing about the best era of k-pop choreography. eunbi sings a soft verse of something nostalgic, and minhyun smiles so softly you wonder if he's thinking of someone he left behind.

taeyong is beside you. always beside you. refilling your glass with something citrusy. resting his arm along the back of your chair. letting his knee bump into yours and not pulling away. the heat from him is steady. familiar. almost too much.

later, the drinks keep flowing back at the hotel. minhyun brings out a bottle of plum soju he brought from seoul, and that’s when it really starts. shots. dares. flushed cheeks and slurred memories.

you’re warm. glowing. a little too honest.

“i mean it,” you say, your voice low, shoulders loose as you sit with taeyong on the floor by the balcony door, away from the noise. “i think about it every night. sometimes i dream about it.”

he looks at you, gentle. “dream about what?”

you lean your head against the windowpane, watching the wind rustle the curtain.

“having a baby,” you murmur. “being pregnant. the little kicks. the soft cries. the weight of them on my chest. it’s so clear in my mind. like… i can almost feel it already.”

taeyong swallows.

you’re drunk. not sloppy, just vulnerable in a way you rarely let yourself be.

“i’ve tried not to obsess over it,” you continue, voice quieter now. “but it’s hard. i want it so much. and i know it’s selfish to want the whole experience—the belly, the pain, the birth. i just… i don’t want to feel like i missed it, like i missed the chance to be the kind of mother i’ve always seen myself becoming.”

taeyong doesn’t know what to say. you can feel it in the silence. his fingers curl slightly, brushing the edge of your sweater.

“you’d be such a good dad, you know,” you say suddenly, eyes half-lidded, smiling gently now as the alcohol softens your words. “like… annoyingly good.”

taeyong blinks.

“you’d be the kind that warms up the milk just right. that kisses tiny foreheads. that always carries extra snacks. that reads the bedtime story even when he’s tired. you'd probably cry when they take their first step.”

he laughs under his breath, a little shaky. your words are melting something in him.

“and your baby would have your eyes,” you add, like it’s nothing. “those pretty lashes. and maybe your laugh. and you’d panic the first time they got sick. and hold them all night until they stopped crying.”

he’s staring at you now. full-on. wide-eyed, a little undone.

“you’d be so gentle,” you whisper. “you already are.”

taeyong shifts. swallows again. his voice is rough when he finally speaks. “don’t say that.”

you tilt your head, confused. “why not? it’s true.”

“because,” he breathes, gaze flicking down to your lips for half a second before pulling back to the ceiling. “you’re drunk. and i’m trying really hard not to do something i’ll regret.”

you blink slowly, the alcohol making everything feel suspended.

you’re suddenly aware of how close you are. how intimate this has always been. not the words. not the night. just you and him.

taeyong stands. runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“i’m gonna get some water,” he mumbles, stepping away from the room.

you stay behind, heartbeat thudding, his warmth still lingering beside you.

you meant every word.

but you don’t know if he’ll ever believe that.

taeyong returns to the table with your glass of water clutched between his fingers like it’s something to hold himself together. his pulse is still uneven, the weight of your words clinging to him like sea salt in the air—soft but undeniable.

you’re laughing at something when he returns. yuta’s grinning, telling a story about a disastrous photoshoot in cambodia that involved a monkey, a drone, and his own foolish confidence. your cheeks are still flushed, but your expression dims a little when your eyes catch his, like you can feel the shift. like you remember what you said.

taeyong sets the glass in front of you gently, and you whisper a quiet “thanks” without looking up.

he doesn’t sit down again. instead, he hovers, letting the chatter of the group wash over him, standing on the edge of it all. seulgi pulls hanbin into a debate about concept staging in idol tours, seolhyun’s already half-asleep on the couch, and minhyun is texting someone with a small smile. the night has thinned out. the fire outside has died, leaving only the dim golden lights strung overhead and the soft hum of a playlist playing someone’s nostalgic mix of late 2010s ballads.

by the time the clock hits nearly two in the morning, someone mumbles about calling it a night.

you blink blearily, your words slurring just a bit now, your weight leaning more and more toward the backrest of the couch. taeyong’s already there before anyone else moves, slipping a hand beneath your elbow and helping you to your feet like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“come on,” he says quietly, warm breath by your temple. “let’s get you to bed.”

you nod sleepily, your body soft, trusting. your fingers find the edge of his jacket sleeve as he steadies you, and he doesn’t pull away. the walk to the room is silent, the hallways dim and muffled. your steps are clumsy, and he catches you more than once, his hand curling around your waist like second nature.

inside the room, it’s dim and warm. the faint scent of saltwater and clean cotton lingers in the air from earlier. you collapse on the edge of the bed you claimed the night before, one of two queen mattresses sitting side by side with a single nightstand in between. the tension returns with the silence, thick and cloying. he walks to the dresser and grabs a bottle of water, offering it to you.

you drink half of it. then sit there. watching him.

he avoids your gaze at first. fiddles with the hem of his shirt. looks out the window like he might say something—then stops himself.

but you’re still drunk. and honest. and maybe a little bold in the way you never let yourself be.

“you know,” you start, voice quiet, “i wasn’t drunk when i said you’d make a good dad.”

taeyong turns slowly. you meet his eyes.

you swallow thickly, fingers wringing the edge of your pajama top. “i’ve thought about it before.”

he blinks, lips parting like he wants to ask but isn’t sure if he should.

you continue.

"not just in the abstract. not just... you as someone’s dad. but you as my—" you stop, heat blooming up your neck. you exhale. “sometimes, i think about what it’d be like if you were the one.”

he says nothing, but his expression crumbles—something tender and wounded flickering behind his eyes.

“i mean, we’ve been in each other’s lives forever,” you say, softer now. “we grew up together in every way that matters. you’ve seen me fail and get back up and fall apart again. you’ve never walked away. not once. not even when i was unbearable. i trust you with everything. i always have.”

taeyong doesn’t breathe.

you keep going.

“so yeah. i think about it sometimes. about what it’d be like to have your kid. to raise them with you. to wake up to you and a messy little human with sleepy eyes and your stupid laugh. and maybe i’m insane, maybe it’s just my hormones or my loneliness or whatever—but the thought doesn’t scare me. it grounds me.”

you laugh, a little bitterly, wiping at the corner of your eye. “and that’s the worst part. because i know you don’t see me that way. or if you did once, it’s long gone. and i shouldn’t be saying this—i know that. but there’s something about tonight that makes me feel like i’ll burst if i don’t.”

taeyong moves before you can finish.

quiet. careful.

he kneels in front of you. not touching you. not yet. just there, looking up at you like he’s memorizing every curve of your face.

his voice is raw.

“don’t say i don’t see you.”

you meet his eyes.

“i’ve always seen you.”

your breath hitches.

taeyong lets out a quiet, shaky laugh. “you talk about me being a dad like i wouldn’t spend every second wondering how the hell i got so lucky to build a life with you. like i haven’t already imagined it too. maybe not with words. maybe not out loud. but… i have.”

you whisper, “you have?”

he nods.

“every time you smile like that. every time you bring me coffee with your name scribbled next to mine. every time you hug me like home. yes. i have.”

you don’t move.

he reaches for your hand—slow, reverent, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“but i never let myself say it,” he murmurs. “because i didn’t want to mess this up. not with us. not with you. and definitely not like this. but if i’m being honest… the thought of you carrying my child?” he swallows. “that doesn’t scare me either.”

the room is silent.

you stare at him, your fingers trembling in his grip.

you whisper, “then kiss me.”

he does.

not rushed. not heated.

just true.

the kind of kiss that feels like coming home after years of wandering.

like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t crazy after all.

the kiss deepens slowly.

taeyong’s hands are warm on your cheeks, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. you melt under his touch, your fingers sliding up his neck, into his hair, pulling him closer, closer still—like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you let go.

he’s the one who gasps first when your lips part just enough to whisper his name. it falls from your mouth like a secret you’ve kept buried for too long, and he swallows it whole.

he pulls back slightly, forehead resting against yours, his thumbs brushing over your flushed skin. you can feel his heart racing beneath his shirt.

“y/n…” his voice is hoarse. “are you sure?”

you nod, soft and breathless. “i’ve never been more sure.”

and there’s something in your voice—something so certain, so full of quiet longing—that makes taeyong inhale like he’s taking you in for the first time.

his lips find yours again, slower now, more deliberate. his touch trails from your face to your waist, pulling you gently into his lap, like he needs you close enough to feel everything—the way your body trembles against his, the way your thighs tighten around his hips, the way your breath stutters when his mouth moves down your neck.

he tastes your skin like a prayer, like something he’s dreamt about in the quiet hours of the night when your voice was the only thing that could calm him down.

you whisper into the space between kisses, into the curve of his jaw, “i want it to be you.”

his breath hitches.

“i want your baby,” you murmur, your hand pressing over his chest, right where his heart is pounding. “i want to carry your child. someone small and perfect and warm, someone who has your eyes… your smile.”

taeyong lets out the softest sound, almost like a whimper, and you feel his fingers tighten on your hips, his body tensing like he’s trying to hold himself back.

you lean into his ear and say it again—this time slower, your voice shaking. “i want your baby inside me, tae.”

his hands slide up your sides, under your shirt, reverent and gentle. “god,” he breathes. “you have no idea what that does to me.”

“tell me.”

he leans back just enough to look at you—really look at you. his pupils are blown wide, his cheeks flushed, lips swollen and parted.

“i think about it all the time,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “what you’d look like with my baby growing inside you. your belly round and soft, your body glowing. coming home to you with your shirt stretched over the bump, your hands cradling it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

he presses a kiss to your collarbone, then another, lower. “i want to see you like that. i want to wake up and run my hands over your belly, feel it kick. talk to it. kiss it.”

you whimper, your fingers knotting in his hair. “tae…”

his hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, thumbs brushing over your hipbones like they belong there. “i want to fill you up,” he murmurs, voice thick and trembling. “not just for tonight. not just for the fantasy. i want this to meansomething. it does mean something.”

you nod, cupping his face. “i know. it does to me too.”

he kisses you again, deeper now, one hand at the small of your back, guiding you down onto the mattress. the room is quiet, lit only by the moonlight spilling through the window, and everything feels soft. intimate. warm.

he undresses you slowly, carefully, as if every piece of clothing he removes reveals another piece of your heart. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer until there’s no space between you, nothing but breath and bare skin and whispered names.

when he enters you, it’s slow and deep, like he’s savoring every inch, like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel wrapped around him. your back arches, and he moans into your neck, your name a broken sound on his lips.

you’re both trembling—emotion thick in your chests, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. because it’s not just sex. not just lust. it’s home. it’s years of friendship and quiet yearning finally coming undone in the safest way possible.

taeyong presses a kiss to your temple and whispers, “you’re perfect. you’re mine.”

you cradle his face in your hands, smiling through the tears. “give me everything, tae. i want to feel you. all of you. i want to feel you stay.”

his rhythm falters, just for a second, overcome by the weight of it all. “i’ll give you everything. i’ll give you a family.”

you tighten around him at the words, gasping.

“i want to make you a mom,” he whispers. “tonight.”

you nod frantically, lips parting, “do it. please. i want to feel it—i want to feel you—when you fill me.”

taeyong groans, hips stuttering, burying his face in your neck. “fuck. y/n…”

you whisper, “put a baby in me, tae.”

he thrusts deeper, harder now, the restraint beginning to crumble. your bodies are slick with sweat, moving together with a kind of desperation that feels like both a beginning and a promise.

when he finishes—inside, just like you wanted—it’s with a gasp, his arms locked around you tight, like he’s scared to let go. and for a long moment, neither of you move.

“i want you full of me,” he says against your mouth, already hardening again. “i want to make sure.”

you nod, dazed. open. warm.

“don’t stop,” you whisper. “please don’t stop.”

and he doesn’t.

he makes love to you over and over again, slow and focused, like each time is another chance to seal your wish into reality. sometimes he holds your hips, watching your face as you fall apart for him. other times he lays you on your side, kissing your shoulder while whispering how beautiful you are, how perfect you’d be with his child inside you.

when dawn breaks, you’re tangled together in silence. your body aches, sweet and sated. your thighs sticky, your heart full. his hand rests on your stomach again, like he’s already waiting.

he is groaning your name, whispering over and over, “mine. you’re mine. our baby. our future.”

you’re crying. he is too.

and when the trembling stops and the world is still again, he kisses your lips, then your cheeks, then your stomach.

“i can’t wait to see you grow,” he whispers, resting his head just below your ribs.

you run your fingers through his hair, heart pounding.

you whisper back, “i hope it has your eyes.”

the sunlight pours through the thin curtains like a slow, golden confession. the air smells like salt and lemon shampoo. taeyong wakes up first this time, his arm heavy over your waist, your back pressed flush against his chest. sunlight filters through the cream-colored curtains, warming the bare skin of your shoulder.

it kisses your bare shoulder first, then the soft curve of your waist, then the scattered marks taeyong left across your chest like constellations only he could read.

you’re the first to stir, eyelids fluttering open to the unfamiliar ceiling of the hotel room. for a second, you forget where you are. but then you shift slightly and feel the weight of an arm draped across your stomach, the steady rise and fall of a chest pressed into your back, and the unmistakable warmth of taeyong’s body, still wrapped around you like a second skin.

his breath ghosts against your nape, slow and deep, and you realize he hasn’t let go of you all night. not once.

you smile.

when you turn your head just enough to see his face, it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. he’s peaceful like this—softer, younger somehow. his lashes rest against his cheeks, and his mouth is parted slightly, lips still swollen from all the kisses you gave him. his hand, large and warm, is splayed gently across your lower belly, protective and possessive in the same breath.

you reach down and lace your fingers with his.

as if he feels it, he stirs, humming sleepily against your skin. his nose nuzzles into your shoulder. “mmm… morning,” he mumbles, voice thick and low, still soaked in sleep.

you twist around slowly in his hold so you’re facing him. he blinks a few times, eyes still heavy, but when they focus on you, they soften in that way they always have—like you’re the center of his world and he’s been waiting all night just to see you again.

“you stayed,” you whisper, thumb brushing his cheekbone.

he smiles lazily, eyes fluttering shut again. “of course i did. where else would i go?”

you tuck yourself into his chest, your nose against his collarbone. “you feel so warm…”

his arms tighten around you instantly, drawing you closer until there’s no space between you. “you kept me warm first,” he murmurs, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “i didn’t want to let go.”

you stay like that for a while. breathing together. existing.

and then you feel him shift, one hand still resting over your belly, thumb drawing lazy, absent-minded circles over the skin there. he hums, low in his throat. “do you think… do you think it worked?”

your breath catches.

you look up at him, searching his face. he’s watching you carefully now, no longer groggy, eyes wide open and impossibly tender.

“i don’t know,” you whisper. “maybe.”

he leans in, kisses your forehead. then your temple. then the spot just below your eye. “i kind of hope it did.”

you feel your throat tighten with emotion.

“you do?”

“mmhm,” he nods, nudging his nose against yours. “i kept thinking about it last night… the way you’d look months from now. the way i’d get to take care of you. rub your back. cook for you. kiss your belly every morning.”

you let out a small laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand.

“i’d be so annoying,” you murmur. “always crying. craving weird stuff. complaining about everything.”

he smiles, brushing your hair behind your ear. “you’d be perfect. i’d love you more every day. and our baby… our baby would be lucky.”

you bury your face in his chest, overwhelmed by the sweetness of it. the certainty.

he strokes your back gently. “and if it didn’t happen this time… we try again,” he says softly. “no rush. no pressure. just us. just love.”

you pull back, tearful and smiling all at once. “you want to try again already?”

he grins, lips brushing your cheek. “i want to make love to you every morning for the rest of my life. but yes… also for the baby.”

you laugh, breathless, and he kisses the sound right out of you.

his hands start to wander again—slow, exploring, remembering. he murmurs against your lips, “can i stay inside you today too? just like this… all day?”

you nod, whispering, “don’t leave me empty.”

and he doesn’t.

he makes love to you again—this time slow and languid, under the weight of sunlight and morning warmth. he kisses your face like you’re already glowing. like you’re already carrying a part of him.

when he comes again, deep inside you, he doesn’t look away. he holds you through it. kisses your tears. whispers your name like a promise.

afterward, he pulls the blanket over your bodies, still tangled. still joined. he keeps his hand on your belly, and you both stay quiet, smiling softly.

as if the future is already there.

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obsessedhoneycomb · 3 months ago

Text

Mind The Gap - Keeping it private

Back then at Lake Como

Toto Wolff x fem!reader

-> masterlist

Summary: Your first weekend vacation with Toto at the beginning of your secret relationship.

Warnings: 18+, smut, age gap, curse words, fluff, love

Word count: 2.0k

A/N: Oh my, this feels soooo much personal. Touches me on so many levels, maybe the most out of all of my writings because I have a strong thing for older men and I’m finally at the point of my life when I don’t feel ashamed by it but I’m embracing it. Enjoy this another part of my Mind The Gap universe. :)

Song inspiration: Found by Zach Webb, Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey, Do I Wanna Know by Hozier

———

Escaping the chaotic world around you, Toto decided to take you to Italy for your first weekend together. Of course you were nervous, it was a long time you were with a man alone like this, since you two promised to each other to take it slow and just go on the dates in secret. Which was very hard, but Toto tried his best to be creative by taking you to places where you could just talk, cuddle and kiss like teenagers. Sneaking in one of his Mercedes, thank god for tinted windows.

Stepping out of the car on the driveway of your rented villa, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Beautiful view of Lake Como in front of you. The sun was perfectly clear in the sky, the scenery made by God's creation.

“I take it that you like it.” Toto joked as he got your bags to the house.

Still you were speechless, following him inside, feeling the pebbles on the ground under your feet. Pool outside with a little terrace and roses everywhere. Was this some kind of dream? Probably yes, but you were living it.

While downstairs was the kitchen and huge living room, when you got upstairs there was a nice bathroom with bathtub and spacious bedroom with a whole ass balcony to look over the lake. You stood there to capture that moment with your eyes. Suddenly, Toto was behind you, pressing himself against you, hugging you.

“Impressive, huh?” He whispered while kissing your neck.

“Absolutely.” You were breathless not only from the view.

“Come on, let’s cook something for dinner, you must be starving.”

———

Seeing him swaying through the kitchen was mesmerising. You never took him as a chef but the way he just chopped the onion like Gordon fucking Ramsey got your mouth gaping in surprise.

“What?” The onion was sizzling on the pan along with some olive oil when he caught your expression.

“Uh, I don’t know, I didn’t think that you can actually cook.”

“Time taught me how to take care of myself in a good way. Yeah, I’m rich, I can buy the whole restaurant, but there's beauty in being able to feed myself.”

The way he talked, it didn’t stop to amaze you. You tried to chop some tomatoes for him, but even though you had a certain cooking skill, it was nowhere close to him. He chuckled as he saw how you’re fighting with a knife, sliding over the tomatoes. “Here, let me help you.”

Standing beside you, he held your hand which clasped the knife, guiding you to slice that tomato the right way. Still you weren’t completely used to his close presence, so your breath hitched every time his scent hit your nose and his warm chest hugged your back.

“The trick is that you must relax your wrist a little and do this little whoop and swish and… yeah, just like this, mhm. You’re a natural talent, love.” He smiled when he saw how you’re now chopping tomatoes like a pro.

You chuckled in happiness, feeling great. “Maybe I just need a little guidance.”

“I’ll guide you through everything, if you want me to.” With those words he looked into your eyes as you turned your head toward him. The tension between you was palpable. Every time he locked his eyes with yours, your heart nearly stopped in your chest, your insides clenching in excitement.

The smell of the onion brought you back to reality. “The onion, Toto.”

“Fuck, sorry, yes.” He blinked a few times and turned to the stove, his face holding a wide smile.

———

After you shared a delicious tomato pasta, you sat at the terrace, watching the lazy waves over the lake, sun setting and shining over the surroundings.

As you took a sip from your wine, you couldn’t help but look at Toto. Sun rays were touching his cheek, emphasising his eye colour, the wrinkles on his face making him attractive even more.

His hand was holding yours, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles occasionally. He felt peace. Calm. Like if the storm inside him got finally over. Like if he finally docked his boat to the long awaiting shore.

“I’m so happy we got this weekend off. I needed it.” He finally spoke and you couldn’t help but love how his lips were moving.

You took another sip of the wine, because you knew you’d need it because you felt that this night will be the night.

“Yeah, I’m also glad. No more hiding and we can just enjoy ourselves.”

With a soft hum, he grabbed your glass and placed it on the table. Looking into your eyes for a moment, he searched for a hesitation or discomfort. But he found none. “Sorry for my eagerness, but I wanted to do this when we were back in the kitchen cooking.” And he captured your lips in the most searing and longing kiss. If you could melt you surely would on the spot. Your body reacted by moving closer towards him, while his hands pulled you onto his lap. The way he kissed you with such intensity, it made you breathless.

“Breathe, baby.” He whispered in between the kisses.

It made you chuckle. “It’s hard when you’re like this.”

“Mmm, let’s make it even harder.” He got up from the sofa while holding you under your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his hips. Still your lips were connected when he carried you to the bedroom, only to place you on the bed. He pulled from you for a bit to see you, to take in your flushed face and your body in the dim light of the space.

“Toto, please.. don’t make me wait.” Your sweet plea got him back onto you, this time savouring the skin on your neck. It was his new favourite thing - to make you gasp. It was like you weren’t properly loved by a man.

Few minutes later, all the clothes you both wore were scattered around the room, Toto nearing your aching pussy and you spread your legs even more for him. He couldn’t help but admire your intimate parts. You were like a goddess to him. Spreading your lips with his fingers, you moaned desperately and he placed a kiss on your clit.

“F-fuck…” you choked out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when his tongue slid through your inner lips ending sucking on them. He really was a man with many talents. Your hands were in his dark hair, pushing him even closer to you. With each lap of his tongue, your insides clenched, and when he added two of his fingers to curl inside you, it was nearly time for you to see heaven.

“God- Toto- I’m gonna-“ but he only managed to hum against your wet folds and you fell apart, screaming his name like crazy, his large hands holding your hips at how wildly you trembled.

Toto moved up to meet you in a hungry kiss and you could taste yourself from his mouth, divine.

Your hand wandered between your bodies to wrap around his hard cock. Soft gasp escaped his mouth and you chuckled at how sensitive he was. “You’re such a tease, baby. But for that would be time later. Now I want you. I’m aching to be inside you.”

Few reassuring glances later, he slid into you so easily like you were born just for him to fit in. Stretching you so heavenly, choked moans left your mouth the same as your eyes were widening, holding his gaze.

“Christian… fuck…” you whispered, your hands dipping into his shoulders and his eyes darkened even more that they already were.

“Say it again.” He didn’t like his middle name much, but the way you moaned it… oh, it made his dick twitch in pleasure.

“Christian. Christ-“

You couldn’t even complete the sentence at how hard he started to thrust into you. Slaps of your naked bodies filled the room, filthy sounds of your wetness ringing through his brain, making him feral with need. As he moved he couldn’t help but run his hand over your breasts, enchanted by your soft skin, pinching your hard nipples hearing your moans intensifying.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking much.” Looking at your face twisted in pleasure, he managed to choke those words that made you smile even more.

“Being such a good girl to me.. oh yes, oh god..” Toto was so deep in your pussy that your brain went blank. He struggled to catch his breath, feeling how close he was. You started to move your hips to match his pace, his mouth falling open in surprise.

“Sweetheart.”

“Fill me, Christian. Claim me with your seed.” Your filthy gasps was everything he needed to fall over the edge of his pleasure. Loud groan with your name echoing through the walls, his hips moving harshly against you, the thick stripes of his cum filling your cunt.

He collapsed onto you, his hot breath on your shoulder making your skin get goosebumps. This was something you were craving your whole life. To have a man who actually knows how to handle you. How to make you see stars.

Settling next to you, he pulled you close to him, as if he wanted to imprint you into his flesh. “Woman… you are amazing.”

“You’re the one who’s amazing.. fuck, I haven’t felt like that ever.” You laughed softly.

He kissed your cheek with a mischievous smile. “Oh, you’re gonna feel many things. I’m not done with you yet.”

———

In the morning, your blissful sleep was interrupted by Toto’s phone ringing. Holding onto his hand, you didn’t want to let him go, but he just slipped from the bed. The buzz of the water at the lake was soothing, and you just hummed with a smile on your face.

“Why are you calling me on Saturday? I said I’m on my vacation and I won’t be available until it's an emergency.” Toto paced through the bedroom, naked in all his glory and you just admired his body from where you laid on the bed, wrapped in sheets.

“Call me on Monday. Then I’ll be ready to hear about your shit.” He ended the call, throwing his phone somewhere on the sofa in the corner of the room, standing there, in the morning light of the balcony doorway, ruffling his hair frustrated. You chuckled softly, nuzzling your cheek to the pillow. His eyes finally fell on you. You. A gorgeous woman, who made his heart skip a beat, who became his whole world. He took in how you laid there, simply and relaxed, with that soft expression on your face, your naked body he devoured the night before, wrapped in the delicate silk covers. The core memory he'll be thinking about for the rest of his life.

“Christian…” your whisper ran a shiver down his spine. You got to like to call him by his middle name. And he strangely loved how you moaned it last night.

“What is it, princess? Like seeing me all mad in the morning? With my dick on display?” He laughed softly and it made you burst into laughter.

“Well, it was a romantic and epic scene and you just ruined it by the dick thing.” You talk into the pillows with laugh.

Toto walked to the bed, crawling back to you, his large arms wrapping around your torso, kissing your temple. He just held you against his chest, that moment was only yours.

“I love you.” He whispered into the silence of the room, the chirping of the birds being heard in the background.

You bit into your lips, fighting the tears of happiness. Closing your eyes, taking a deep inhale and exhale you just “I love you too, Toto.”

———

Please don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

Tags: @chilling-seavey

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blackbat05 · 4 months ago

Text

Detour

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Plot: A little detour to the Children’s Hospital forms the start of a new relationship. (This takes place after Joaquin’s stint in the hospital)

Genre: Fluff, PG-13

A/N: Had serious brain rot trying to write? Loads of things happening at work and felt that I was just bed rotting whenever I came back home so very glad that I wrote this piece and try to do something creative. Hope you enjoy!

“Thanks for letting me tag along.” Joaquin steps out of the car, helping Sam with the bags stowed in the trunk.

“The kids will be happy to see you,” Sam dismisses his thanks. “They always love new faces. Besides, you could use that fresh air after being stuck in the hospital for two weeks.”

Joaquin grimaces at the memory as the two men amble into the entrance of the children’s hospital.

A bespectacled woman with traces of white in her hair greets Sam warmly before leading them down the sanitized halls.

“The kids are just finishing their story-time with Y/N.” They reach an automated sliding door that opened with a slide of the woman’s keycard.

“Thanks Doreen. We’ll take it from here.” Sam picks up the large bag of board games and toys they had picked up earlier from the shop.

Joaquin follows and is instantly greeted by intricate murals painted on the bookshelves. Children books of every imaginable size and color were shelved neatly in their respective places. He can’t help but to marvel at the sheer number of books in this place.

“So, if you’re not careful and you leave the book right beside your bed…” A voice could be heard up ahead. Joaquin sees a female volunteer holding a red book in her hands, at the centre of attention. The children dressed in their gowns, listening with rapt attention.

“It might just wake up and… EAT YOU!” She opens and closes the book, mimicking a ravenous monster, eliciting laughter from the audience and appreciative smiles from parents and guardians alike. Joaquin finds himself smiling too.

“Maybe if I give it some fries, the book won’t eat me!” A little girl with pigtails pipes up.

Joaquin locks eyes with the woman. “Well, that is a food for thought - no pun intended!” She stands up, “I’m sorry to cut this short but I believe Mr Captain America and Mr Falcon themselves are here!”

This immediately gets the kids attention again and excited squeals could be heard all around. Sam, charming as ever, takes over effortlessly with tiny bodies surrounding the two men.

Lunch arrives and the crowd eventually thins out with a couple of stragglers taking photos with Sam and Joaquin. Joaquin gives a stuffed Falcon to a little boy who was adorable and affectionate, giving one last hug before saying goodbye.

“You made his day.” The same female volunteer approaches Joaquin with bottled water. “I’ve never seen Luis so happy before.”

“I didn’t do much. You’re the one doing all the work. Reading to them, showing them different worlds.” Joaquin downplays the praise.

“I take it that you’re a bookworm?”

“When I have time. Saving the world can get quite hectic.”

“Don’t I dare doubt it.”

Joaquin grins, courage growing a little bigger. “Y/N right? You work here? I didn’t see you when I was warded in the hospital.”

“I work at the Children’s library three stops from here.” You explain. “Doreen is a close friend and mentor of mine. I wanted to do something for these children so here I am.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.”

“Not as amazing as saving the world from another World War.”

Joaquin can’t help but to notice Sam over Y/N’s shoulder. Needless to say, he did not like the googly eyes that the Captain was teasing him with.

“Are you always here?”

“Every Friday, just before lunch.” She affirms, though curious at Joaquin’s question. His throat is suddenly dry as the Sahara Desert but he has to try. What’s the worse that could happen right?

“Cool. Uh… Are you free now? Do you want to grab-”

Before Joaquin could finish his sentence, Sam comes running over. Phone blinking in his hand. That could only mean…

“S.H.I.E.L.D wants a briefing in twenty. Hostage situation.” Sam mutters.

The world is fucking with him right now. It took Joaquin all his energy not to groan. Instead, he plasters what he believes to be an easy going “everything is ok” face.

“I’m free next week.” You finish off for him much to his surprise.

“Go save the world soldier.”

***

“Does this plane go any faster?”

“What’s got your pants in a twist?” Sam comes out from the cockpit. “It’s that girl isn’t it? The one at the Hospital! Miss Librarian!”

“Her name is Y/N.” Joaquin looked up to Sam but he was not in the mood for being teased.

“Ooooh someone’s in loveeeee!”

“You know, for someone who’s the face of our country, you’re obnoxiously childish.” Joaquin retorts.

“Don’t you know me by now?” Sam laughs. “Seriously though, you really like her huh?”

“Yeah… I know it’s weird but… the way she was with the kids?” Joaquin trails off, unsure of himself. “I just hope she’s still there. Though I can’t blame her if she isn’t. You know, the sacrifices of being a hero.”

Sam frowns at the familiar words he had said to Joaquin years earlier while the young soldier took over the role of the Falcon.

The Captain gets up from his seat and heads to the cockpit.

“Hey Carlos! I need you to speed this up a little, our man here has a date he can’t miss.”

***

“How do I look?” Joaquin steps out with a clean set of hoodie and jeans.

“Like you clean up well.” Sam affirms as the plane prepares for landing. “Go get her Falcon.”

Joaquin starts the bike that was prepared for him, speeding towards the hospital. He really hopes that she’s still there - though the hope is shrinking by the minute.

He seamlessly parks his bike, not wasting a second as he sprints inside, nearly running over a bemused Doreen.

“Woah there! Hold your horses cowboy, she’s in there.”

Joaquin breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Doreen gives a knowing smile as she bids Joaquin good bye, leaving him to enter the hospital reading room.

At the sight of her, his breath hitches and Joaquin feels rooted to the ground. He digs up every ounce of courage, heart thumping wildly against his chest.

“Y/N!”

She looks up from her book, eyes lit up at the sight of the solider. Joaquin could get used to this. “Hey solider.”

“I’m so sorry, we had to make a detour.”

“Duty calls, am I right?” She teases. “I got us some tacos. Figured you’ll be too tired to get to another place.”

“I could kiss you right now.” Joaquin blurts out. “Not that if you don’t want to- oh what am I saying!”

Y/N giggles at Joaquin’s goofy nature. “Let’s eat. The tacos are getting cold.”

Despite having tacos in a hospital, the two enjoyed each other’s company, engrossed in conversation.

“Thanks for the amazing company, Joaquin. Unfortunately, work beckons. I have to head back for closing.”

As the two pack in silence, Joaquin fights an internal battle in his head.

Just ask her already god damn it! You’re a superhero for goodness sake!

What if she thinks I’m weird?

Now or never Torres.

“Would you like to-”

“Wait sorry, you go.”

“No you!”

The two burst into laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

“I really enjoyed today.” Joaquin says sincerely. “I know my schedule is really messed up and all, but if you’re free again, I know this really mean pizza place.”

“You had me at pizza.” Y/N doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Joaquin does a mini dance in his head. “So that means it’s a date?”

Before Y/N could respond, a little voice pipes up from the entrance.

“Say yes Miss Y/N!”

Little Luis was peeping in along with Sam who had a shit eating grin on his face. Although Joaquin knew he was probably never going to hear the end of this, he didn’t care in this moment with the wonderful woman standing in front of him.

“Looks like you got yourself a little wingman, Torres!” Sam hoots.

“I love you Sam but we’re kind of having a moment here?”

“Oh right, sorry! Good luck Y/N! Come on Luis, let’s get our own Tacos.”

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #captain america brave new world #danny ramirez #the falcon x reader

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grugruel · 7 months ago

Note

ok hi! I woke up in the middle of the night and I had this amazing idea and I immediately thought about you, anyways.

We/reader?? Are married to Jayce and we wake up in the middle of the night because we are sweating and shit, so we take off our shirt and are now completely topless, Jayce wakes up and tries to persuade you to lay back in bed, so you turn around and he notices we are topless and boom! Evolves into smut.

I deeply apologise if this is too vague or too detailed…

Yes ofc! It's kind of short, and I took some creative liberties since the smut wasn't specified. But I hope you like it!😩

Taking Care of You

Pairings: ruined!jayce x wife!f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: After waking up from a nightmare, your husband comforts you. But as the bedroom grows cold, he finds himself in need of warming you up.

Wordcount: ca 1.3

Warnings: shower sex, pinv sex, petnames (honey, baby), creampie, praise ish, I love you's, domestic bliss.

AN: I've never been a "baby" girl, but this did sum.

Images flash by her eyes. Warped, iridescent structures and faceless humanoids devoid of mortality.

Crowding, they gather around her. Like schools of fish, no space, no breath. Stripped of flesh and blood, porcelain hands reach for her as they clank and clatter freakishly. She can feel their cold on her body, tearing and yanking, some steadying while other strive to push her off balance.

Suddenly, gold bejewled fingers lunge from the masses and lock around her throat. Small beauty mixing in with the cold horror. The fingers sinch, squeezing until-

She gasps, and her body acts in pure reflex. Throwing herself up, she scans the darkness surrounding her, chest heaving in panic.

But within a mixture of drowsyness and disorientation, her mind hasn't caught up. She doesnt know whats real. Her ears are ringing and cold sweat covers her body, drenching her top as the walls close in around her. Its suffocating her, she claws at her chest. She cant breathe, she cant breathe.

Amidst the confusion, her top pulls off and a touch and ice traces her skin. Her eyes widen in fear and launch into blind defense, mirthlessly slapping and pushing the creature away from her.

The streak of cold runs along her arms and cheek. "Hey, hey . . . It's okay," it says, voice finally reaching her as the buzzing of her mind dampens and her eyes adjust to the darkness. "You're alright." The cold brushes her skin, and as reslisation sets in, the sensation anchors her. "Breathe," the voice reminds her, and she does.

Her surroundings begin to materialise. The sheets beneath her, the wallpapered walls, and in front of her . . . Jayce. There are no pale faces, no lifeless fingers clasping at her throat. There's only Jayce.

"It was a nightmare," he whispers. "Nothing more." Strong hands slide down her shoulders, a touch of cool following in their wake. The wedding ring.

"It was-- the hexcore . . . I-" She shakes her head, trying to make sense of the things she'd seen. Looking down, she's notices her hands clasped around Jayce's wrists. Holding him so hard that her fingers turn white from the supression of bloodflow, so hard he might bruise.

But he doesn't complain, he doesn't even flinch.

In horror, she releases him, stiffly unlatching her grip. Like a statue reluctantly discarding a piece of itself.

With soft eyes and knitting brows, he pulls her into his lap, embracing her bridal-style. "Its over, you're safe." He kisses the top of her head.

Resting against his muscular shoulder, she feels the icy ring rub circles into her thigh, soothing her impossibly. "It felt so real," she murmurs.

Jayce nuzzles his face into her hair, taking a deep breath. "I know, honey," he sighs empathetically. The cold slides up her thigh and torso to then finally cradle her head, holding her steady against his chest.

Her gaze fixated on the gentle light billowing in through the windows and the dust particles it illuminates. A cold breeze chills her damp skin, sending a shiver down her spine and hardening her nipples. Following the stream of light, she finds the window noticeably ajar.

"It's cold," she whispers, looking up at him.

His eyes drift along her body, observing her raised skin, then begins to move. "I'll close the-"

"No," she stops him, unable to think of anything worse than leaving his lap in this moment. "Make me warm, Jayce."

He smiles softly. "You'll have to trust me, then."

She nods, and he lifts her off of the bed. There is truly nobody she would trust more.

Dimming the lights, candles have been lit and he enters the shower.

The water trickles down her body, running over and in-between every curve, washing her free of foam after Jayce has lathered her up.

He has taken his time to massage the soap into her skin, paying special mind to her breasts, waist and thighs. His hands gentle but firm, working through every knot and washing away every memory of her nightmare.

Lazily, she drapes her arms around his shoulders. "Get me any wetter and you'll have to bathe me," she jokes, and pulls him closer. Leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Now, are you going to do anything about that?" Her hand slips between their bodies, palming the rock hard member beneath his happy-trail.

Meeting her eyes, they glint with mischief. "Yes," he breathes, and she watches the way the water trickle from unkempt hair to his forehead as he pushes her against the wall.

How it makes paths down his face and follows the length of his nose, dripping from it's tip as he kisses her passionately.

How it rolls down his temples, the inside of his cheeks and finally pools beneath his chin as he hooks a hand beneath her leg and lines himself up with her entrance.

How beautifully he glistens in the warm, dim light as he thrusts inside of her, nearly knocking the breath out of her lungs.

Her nails come out, clawing at his back as he sets a steady pace. "Deeper, Jayce. Please," she begs, lips parted and breathless. Water droplets glossing her lips.

Dutiful as he is, he obides. Sliding his arm further through the hollow of her knee, he hooks her leg over his arm to raise it higher, gaining better access to her core, uterus even. Bracing his forearm against the wall next to her head, he pushes himself deeper. Expelling shudders all over his body in the process. "Fuck." He nuzzles his face against her profile. "You feel so good, baby," he whines, kissing the shell of her ear.

The pulse in her abdomen tightens at his words, she could never tire of the way he makes her feel. "More," she manages between moans, she just needs more of him, she wants him beneath her skin if possible. "You're doing so good." Her hand wraps around the back of his head, locking him in her embrace to keep them as close to one another as possible.

At her words, Jayce really puts his back into it. Thrusting ever harder, ever deeper into her body. It scratches her skin against the tile behind her with every thrust, but she doesn't care. A little pain was surely needed to balance out the ungodly pleasure he provided her with.

"Fuck, honey," he moans. "I love you, y-- do me so good."

"Mmm," she hums. Its high pitched, signaling her coming climax. "Almost there, love you too." She knits her brow in concentration and kisses Jayce's temple, purely out of gratitude for being the man he is.

The water pours over them as the pressure snaps and her wall breaks, her orgasm tearing through her like a giant wave. "Yes," she whimpers, tilting Jayce's head to face her. Their lips meeting in a greedy kiss as her exalted moans spilled into his mouth.

Feeling her pulse around his member, hearing her so satisfied. His thrusts go rigid and he spills inside her. With diminishing strength, he slowly lowers her leg and steps back, giving her a final neck on the cheek. "Warm?" He asks, waiting for the judgement of a job well-done or not.

"More than," she kisses his shoulder.

Turning the shower off, he steps out and spreads a towel between his arms expectantly, waiting for her to turn around. As she does so, he notices the scratches on her back. "Shit, Im sorry," he whispers, kissing the red, irritated skin before wrapping her in his embrace. He folds the towel around her like a gift, and rests his chin on her shoulder.

"It felt good, I don't mind."

"Oh?" He raises his eyebrows, a sly smile on his lips.

"Oh," she confirms.

#jayce talis smut #jayce smut #jayce x reader #jayce x female reader #jayce x you #jayce imagine #jayce fanfiction #arcane smut #jayce #jayce arcane #jayce talis #arcane x you

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shirefantasies · 1 year ago

Text

LoTR Characters + Pregnant Reader (Wife!Reader)

Back with more parent AU because it's some of my favorite fluff! Consider this a Part 1 to an anon request that’ll be on its way hehe (also an AU where something happens with Celebrían apparently 😥)

Warnings: conception, pregnancy-related illness and symptoms mentioned, very long post lol

Aragorn

✧ Neither of you had made any concrete plans. No set in stone hour of your marriage reserved for the growth of your family or dubbed too early. Thus, you are unsure how your husband will feel about your news, the fact that you got yourself checked out the first moment of illness, mother's intuition in full service already, it would seem. You cannot keep your smile to yourself, though, as you stroll in search of Aragorn, hand hovering about your own waist as if in disbelief. He had just returned from a hunting trip when you found him, smiling shakily at his amusement when you pulled him immediately aside into the next room over. "What troubles your heart?" The man had intuition of his own, years of silent observation- there was no lying to him. "I just learned that I am with child, Aragorn," you took his hand, seeing no point in being anything but direct, "due for the birth next spring if all goes well." "With blossom comes the next blessing of my kin," your husband replied, that wise look in his blue eyes causing you to shake your head fondly, "what could be more beautiful? What a gift you have given me and how could I ever repay it?" Shaking your head once more, you simply grinned and, sighing with relief and anticipation alike, replied that being the amazing father you know him to be will be all you need. Leaning forward, Aragorn laid his head against yours, brushing your noses as he held you.

✧ Looking out upon the kingdom, the realization that is is his kingdom still sinking in, and that he has made this place a home for new life as well. That this is the very reason he fought for a safe world. It brings such a rush to his heart that he goes off in search of you at once, kissing you warmly and caressing your still-small bump.

✧ Aragorn loves doing anything he possibly can to make your days easier, treating you like the queen you quite literally are! He pampers you with treatment like massages, washing your hair for you, drawing you baths, and the like.

✧ While you no doubt have many people at your disposal, quite similarly your husband enjoys cooking for you by hand and memorizes everything that makes you sick if anything as well as the random foods your cravings make you obsessed with, trying to creatively incorporate them into everything.

✧ You knew it already, but your pregnancy brings about the reminder that this man has such a way with encouraging words, his voice the only thing that cuts through the clouds of your changing moods.

✧ Aragorn is the one who tells you not to be so hard on yourself, that you are doing an amazing thing and you are desirable as yourself, no more and no less. No need to hide yourself, no need to perform, no need to feel anything less than the beautiful soul you have always been. Remember, he tells you, he is going nowhere, and you will endure all together.

Legolas

✧ For so long had you and Legolas hoped for your little life, long enough of trial and hope that you’d all but given up until you felt a shift. Felt on the brink of illness at nearly all times, seeking healing for a mystery illness and leaving with news that had your husband holding you for minutes on end, tears sliding down his cheeks, and refusing to let go of your hand all day. Holding you like you might shatter, his other hand wrapped gently around your waist where his hand can brush the curve of your soon-to-be-growing belly. “We did it, my love. We will finally be three.”

✧ Your husband grows wistful, getting a distant look in his eyes before smiling and reminiscing on his younger days. “What demeanor shall our little one have, do you say? I would not mind having two of you,” he teases, while you say a child like him would be much easier!

✧ “Both of your little ones sound quite healthy.” “Both?” You are shocked, but Legolas’s grin never falters, nor does his surprisingly tight, hearty grip upon your shoulders. “Twins,” he keeps repeating in wonder throughout the day.

✧ You and Legolas have a bet running on the twins, if they are to be identical or not. You think they are both boys, while Legolas thinks he has a little girl waiting for him, too. “Wishful thinking,” you tease him. “Absolutely,” he agrees, smiling softly at you.

✧ As time passes, he does tease you about your waddle. “Shall I slow down a bit?” Cheeky prince, but that’s why you love him!

✧ Legolas’s eyes never fix you with anything but awe. He is simply amazed at all the wonders your body is capable of and what it endures. Even though that wonder also manifests as him almost constantly asking if you are alright, it is worth it when your husband looks at you as though captivated by a goddess.

Boromir

✧ Boromir caught you with your eyes bulging out of your head, not a single chance of delaying your discussion. Such news as you have just received can only be considered a blessing, and yet you still are shaken to the core with the spiking precursor of excitement and hope, hope that your husband would be happy. Your words burst forth the moment he took your hands, asking you whatever was wrong and nodding faster and faster with each step of your detailed medical visit. His smile grew and grew until he could hardly help himself, taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss that more than assuaged your worries. “Why do you look so worried? Such a wonderful blessing was beyond anything I could imagine,” he tells you, a hand reaching to rest gently upon you.

✧ He all but tackles you to bed that night, kissing again and again your lips, your cheeks, and down finally to your belly.

✧ Boromir’s appreciation of your body never ceases your entire wait. His hands always caressing you, his words always sweet upon your ears, especially to cut through the deprecating ones your own lips utter. It baffles your husband that you cannot see how utterly glowing you are.

✧ One hundred percent though will he be teasing you about the odd cravings you get; even as he goes to fetch them he’s making faces, asking if you’re sure, joking about what strange taste the little one has.

✧ You suspect you are carrying a son while Boromir’s guess is a little girl. After you remind him that a mother knows, he rests a hand over your bump and replies with a teasing grin “Why can’t a father know as well?” “Because you do not have to carry him for the better part of a year!”

✧ One of Boromir's favorite things in this world is the sight of how his lent garments fit you tighter and tighter, bringing a twinge to both the loving and the possessive sides of his heart...and his hands to wrap around you or cup your cheeks and pull you into a kiss!

Gimli

✧ His intuition is off the proverbial charts. It is he who first makes any mention of your chances, stating you should not strain yourself in your condition. You are confused, you even protest, but in the end you have your little appointment and your husband has a smug little moment of ‘I told you so’ before the realization of just what he’d been sensing hits him, dropping his jaw and sending his arms flying about you, lifting you up into the air with a hearty laugh. “The mighty line continues! And thanks to such a beautiful lassie no less! You'll want for nothing, I promise you, and no harm'll come to either of you while I yet draw breath."

✧ Has strong opinions about how well you should be eating, so barring you being stricken with sickness Gimli will be making or otherwise providing for you the heartiest of meals, all the things he believes are necessary to raise up a strong little dwarfling. Thank the fortitude and solace of his people, but you are sick very little your entire journey with this and all other little ones you share!

✧ Given the strength of dwarven genetics, you both assume that you are expecting a boy; thus, your husband insists on crafting a tiny axe for him. “For when he’s older, of course!” Gimli assures you, waving his hands defensively.

✧ No worries about your pregnancy weight here- suffice it to say that a dwarf finds the extra pounds quite appealing and has no hesitation about showing you such!

✧ Any exhaustion you feel is the only thing that stops Gimli from taking you around to all his friends and loved ones and likely anyone else who will listen and announce that he has a child on the way!

✧ Nesting is a very strong instinct of his! Gimli builds and crafts by hand all of your baby's furniture and decor, even an adorable mobile of horses, little dwarves with pickaxes, and little effigies of your favorite animal all dangling above his crib! Leaning his head against your belly, he asks the baby "Well, what do you think? Only the finest for my little flame!"

Frodo

✧ Your husband wasn’t sure at first. Not sure if he would feel whole enough after all he endured to bring a life into this world, but you, oh, you… The one who brought life vividly rushing back to his heart, color returning to his life and comfort to his pain. One day a pang struck his heart and he realized it would mean the world if after it all he was able to create life, and more importantly to have something so amazing come of your love. Soon after you both eagerly hoped for the signs, and it took but a few months. Frodo worried you would be sick, but confirmation comes after weeks without your cycle, nothing more. For once, no pain shall come to Frodo Baggins or those he loves.

✧ Your health is his greatest concern, so much so in fact that Frodo has soon befriended practically every midwife in the Shire, melting them with his endearing eagerness to know all he can about your possible afflictions and what you need. His concerns soon gather you the proverbial village of help should you ever send Frodo off for something beyond his breadth.

✧ It breaks Frodo's heart when his nightmares or moments of panic coincide with your own fragile emotions for the first time, for he should be caring for you, not the other way around, but when you hold each other, tears soaking into the opposite shirt, he realizes that what you two have is an understanding and trust strong enough to fortify each other even in darkness.

✧ In case you were not already aware, you are so lucky in your choice of husband! Discussing names soon emerges into your conversation and it almost takes you aback how quickly agreements on a girl and boy name are reached!

✧ The one time during your entire wait for your little one that brings tears to Frodo’s eyes is the day you bring home a bolt of fabric and when he asks what it is for, you answer to make him and your new arrival matching garments.

✧ You catch him smiling widely at you, love glowing in his bright blue eyes as he watches you do even the smallest things, your little waddle or the way you practice folding diaper cloth. All you can imagine is those same eyes fixed upon a babe in his arms, shooting Frodo the same look right back.

Sam

✧ It seemed that every other conversation you shared with your beloved Samwise revolved around babies, so much so that your few still-unmarried friends had grown sick of it. Anyone with a baby in the Shire, though, knew who to look toward for care! You and Sam gushed over little clothes, little hands, went on for goodness-knows-how-long about how much you'd like a little Sam and he wants a miniature version of the loveliest girl he'd ever seen followed of course by you saying why not both? Sam loved life so much, saw beauty in growth and creation and every joy in it, so of course he wanted a big family and all his infectious sunshine on the subject just made you fall in love with him more and more. Months of trying passed, though, before you came to Sam in a daze, before you cupped his precious face in your hands and whispered to him we did it. Before he tackled you to the soft grassy ground and held you, weeping tears of joy and kissing your hands, your cheeks, finally your lips once he'd spoken how much he loved you.

✧ Takes to sleeping a bit lower, his head nuzzled against your torso. In the night you can feel his nose and lips ghosting over it and even hear little whispers when you both can't sleep, but you say nothing, letting Sam have his moments with the little one.

✧ The worry he has about everything the first time around. "Are you sure you can eat that? I don't want you to get sick." "Is that too heavy?" "Don't trouble yourself a mite when I'm right here, I'll bend over for it." "Alright, only if you're certain nothing will happen to the baby, sweetheart." As much as you want to remind him that you are still a fully functional woman, you know that Sam is an action man and this is his way of showing he cares.

✧ The meals he cooks you. You will be eating like a queen all because Sam wants to keep the baby strong, of course! As a bonus, it truly is like he knows what sets you off and avoids those things without even having to ask.

✧ “Imagine all the wee feet running through here,” Sam muses in bed one night, your head tucked in the crook of his neck. “The little hands grasping ours,” you add. “All the little ribbons we can tie in a girl’s hair.” “Taking your little boy out to the garden!” Once again, your friends act positively sick of how sweet you are, but inside anyone can see how deliriously happy you and Sam are and feel warmed by it.

✧ “When the time comes,” Sam always assures you, your hand tightly in his, “I’ll be right here. Wild horses could hardly drag your Sam away.”

Merry

✧ Your reveal is made a bit anticlimactic thanks to your husband’s teasing ways. “You’re knitting.” Glancing down at your work, you simply nod. “Yes.” “You never knit.” Merry’s eyes narrow. “Is it for somebody?” “If you must know,” you set your needles carefully in your lap and tease back, “this is for your child. Any complaints now?” “My child?” Jaw dropping, Merry looks at you like you’d just offered him the whole of Middle Earth. “That’s right,” your voice softens, even cracking a bit with emotion at the sight of his smile, “you’re going to be a father, Merry.”

✧ Merry’s adorable little habit of making you a pillow pile to lay on during your time of the month carries right through to your pregnancy. And of course it continues even when you remind him you’ll not be able to stand up from in because he will be right there to help you up!

✧ Because you've taken up knitting, Merry wheedles with all his charm and love and kisses an additional creation from you: a sweater made from the same yarn as baby's. "You are lucky to be so adorable," you tease him, looking up from your work to kiss his lovely lips. Maybe, you thought, a whole matching set for three would be in order, though…

✧ Another one who teases you, joking about how he is finally able to outrun you!

✧ The type of father to chastise the baby whenever they kick you too hard, lecturing to the front of your dress about hurting your mother and how that simply won’t do, then looking up at you with a humored smile.

✧ Compliments increase at least twofold upon your revelation, Merry never sparing the kindest words about your strength, certainly, but mostly your beauty. Never once during any pregnancy do you feel unloved, unwanted, unattractive, for even when your eyes can find no light within your reflection there your husband is practically worshipping every corner of your form.

Pippin

✧ Desire for a family was something that had drawn you two together as a couple, though you may have found yourself talking Pippin down from ten children! “Maybe start with five,” you would always tease him. So the moment your hypothesis is tested and confirmed, a grin you can’t remove spreads across your face and you run to collect everything for your surprise. Surprise is the only word you can use when Pippin opens his gift and sees the tiny knitted hat you’ve placed inside the box. “What is this for? Little small, is it not?” “If it was for us, perhaps.” It ended up taking you reaching out for his hand and resting it upon your lower belly for the massive grin to spread across his face, but once it does Pippin is laughing loudly and giddily, swinging you back and forth in ecstasy!

✧ Runs to get you whatever your need with barely an question. After all, who is he to say what it's like being with child, and if you want it, you shall have it. Hot water bottle? Certainly. A cup of tea? Of course. Three more pillows? Why, he'll strip your whole bed down. Panics a little if the request is to relieve pain, so prepare to hear a crash or the shuffle of a trip or two before you have the item in hand or on body.

✧ "What is this for?" "What are these?" Lucky you love him, your husband does have many a question of all the supplies you gather for after your new addition is welcomed. "Oh, to keep the hands safe? That makes sense." "Wait, you need to wear that... to catch the bloo- oh, my." He gulps. "I'm going out right now. I'm getting you a cake and some jewelry and some flowers and anything else you'd like."

✧ Can barely keep his hands to himself. Pippin was always the most affectionate husband you could ask for, but now? Now you two are practically a package set and nary can you travel without his arm around you, hand about your waist and gently running up and down over your little growing bump.

✧ Your baby seems to have inherited your husband’s personality, for even before the birth many signs of how active your little one is are present! Those poor ribs of yours will get kicked more than a few times with all the fluttering your little one stirs up inside of you! Pippin, of course, wants to feel it all and luckily he is never far from the scene. If he is, though, you bet he will run!

✧ Pippin is always laying with his cheek resting on your belly, talking to the baby about anything from how his day’s gone to how they have the most amazing and beautiful mother. Your heart can’t help fluttering every time.

Faramir

✧ Faramir has the most uncanny way of reading you like a book, a habit endearing as it is frustrating. Thus the moment he catches you smiling to yourself he is smiling back, approaching you with teasing question of what has you so happy. For once, though, you have the satisfaction of catching your husband off guard, resting your head against his shoulder and a hand upon his chest as you tell him you just cannot wait to see him as a father. "Someday, my love," he takes your hand and kisses it, "if I am so blessed." Giggling, you shake your head against him. "Blessed indeed! Someday shall be this fall," you answer, and peeling back from him you receive another spike of satisfaction at his wide blue eyes, the drop of his jaw and the race of his heart beneath your hand. "Are you certain?" You nod. This time, he takes both of your hands in his and with tears in his eyes thanks the heavens for you even as he shakily laughs, your bright demeanor never failing to put a smile upon his face. "Our child will be so loved." "I know."

✧ Your husband finds himself lost in reverie more and more often, drifting out of reality into some distant, but nowhere near out-of-reach, dream of your family, seeing you as a mother the most beautiful sight he can conjure.

✧ Faramir adores holding you from behind, his hands curled gently over where your bump forms and his head resting gently upon your shoulder, flowing hair tickling your cheeks and neck lightly.

✧ "One for each of us," is Faramir's joke when one of Gondor's finest medics grants you the knowledge that you are not expecting one child, but two. Your husband is there in the storms, the waves of anxiety rolling within you over being there for your twins. "You are not alone," he always reminds you, a hand joined with yours right over the twins' little hearts.

✧ If you wanted a husband who actually does his due diligence learning all he can about growing babies, birth, and postpartum care, then Faramir is another excellent choice! He’ll be spouting off facts about the whole thing ranging from what size the babies currently are to why you might have contractions after giving birth. Your mood determines whether you listen in or tell him to kindly stop.

✧ Just as with you, Faramir’s insecurities sometimes get the better of him, but they also fuel him, bringing a fire you can see to his fair eyes as he speaks with determination how he will love all his children equally.

Eomer

✧ Pride glows upon your countenance as you flit about the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the roast you'd made for dinner. A kingly feast is in order, for not only had you heard your husband performed exceptional drills this day, but you yourself are the host of something exceptional. Eomer and you have been enjoying each other's company much these days, so the news is not so much of a shock as it is a celebration, exuberance at a line enduring, two dreams fulfilled as one, especially for your husband, who speaks often of how he longs for a full, boisterous home. Six if he's lucky. Well, you can hardly wait to help him along, pulling Eomer into your arms for an enthusiastic kiss before he can even toe his boots off, and when he chuckles and asks what has taken hold of his beautiful wife you let your news fly. Shouting for joy with abandon, Eomer lifts you up into his arms bridal-style, kissing your lips again and again. Dinner is all but forgotten as he kneels before you, holding your waist and pressing kisses all over the bodice of your dress and thanking you for making his day, nay, his life, perfect.

✧ Eomer is always proud of you, but the moment he finds out you are with child that feeling swells and positively drips off of him, every outing with him suddenly seeming quite like a chance for him to show you off. An arm around you at all times, a smile of great joy and satisfaction, news shared to all who dare make conversation with you both, and even kisses in public! Eomer is simply on top of the world and not a thing will topple his spirits.

✧ As somebody who never much studied the workings of women, though, Eomer is… a bit out of his depth. You will have to teach him some things like why your emotions swing so or what to look out for to know when your water breaks. This man has been in battle, seen heads roll in the most literal sense, and yet when you describe the eventual passing of your placenta his entire face contorts in a look of horror that has you all but doubled over in laughter.

✧ “You look so beautiful with child,” Eomer purrs, “we’ll have to do this again sometime.” You smack his arm, but cannot resist giggling at the way your husband still gives you butterflies.

✧ Your new addition had not even arrived yet and Eomer is commissioning a child-sized saddle, unable to contain his excitement as he describes all their future rides to you!

✧ As you dream up names, Eomer has many suggestions from the great halls of his own people, ancestors and great warriors alike, but making considerations of your own background is equally important to him, so he is more than willing to go back and forth for the perfect solution.

Eowyn

✧ No one had thought it possible, but they should have known. Impossible was not in Eowyn’s lexicon, and that was exactly why you loved her, one part within many of why you became her wife. And now, the healer confirmed you were carrying her child. …Very well, technically her banner-bearer’s child as the two of you had been forced to get a bit creative, but to have support and help from those who had begun with such uncertainty meant the world. Even Eomer had come around, having offered similarly, but of course you had to remind him that Eowyn wanted a child of her own, not a niece or nephew! Without Guthláf’s, er, donation, you would never bear witness to the broad and beautiful smile on your wife’s face, the tears glistening in the gorgeous blue of her eyes. “A child…” “Our child,” you add, leaning forward until your foreheads touched and noses brushed, a tearful smile upon your own face as your wife gently held your waist.

✧ Having worked so many times as a nurse lends well at least to Eowyn, for she is firm and unrelenting in her urging, nay, forcing, you to rest. No ifs, ands, or buts are to be accepted from your strong-willed beauty, let her dote on you, for she does it with great pleasure. And besides, the harder you fight, the harder she'll work to keep you lain down.

✧ Understanding the pain and symptoms of your time of the month completely also translates; thus Eowyn is ready with remedies for your aches and pains, hot water and herbs awaiting you. She rarely snaps back at your moods, choosing to be silent in the worst of times because she knows. Really, she does.

✧ She cooks for you, and whether you say anything about that or not likely depends on how willing to hide your honesty behind the hormone excuse if it is not taken well.

✧ Reminds you constantly how strong you are. In your lowest of moments, the times you struggle to stand and straighten your aching spine, feeling massive and utterly useless, Eowyn is there to hold your hand and tell you that you are hosting and creating life as she so speaks. You have made the ultimate sacrifice of your body and the greatest of pain to bring just as great a blessing to yourself and your wife. Far from useless, you are divine.

✧ “What does it feel like?” Resting her head on her hand, the one that wasn’t lain against your fluttering belly, she questions you as the baby kicks. “For you?” Part of her wishes to have this experience herself someday, while another takes your descriptions with trepidation. She does not enjoy being restricted, after all.

Haldir

✧ “Lie down, please, my love.” Haldir’s concern with your sickness increased daily as did the pain of seeing you feeling so weak and ill. You tried to push through and for as much as he loved your strength, your husband was not having it this time. Pride was not worth seeing you doubled over again, whether from pain or, arguably worse, illness. You relented in the end, resting and beneath the spinning of your head at the end of the day feeling not a seed of energy to protest an inspection. Healing herbs had you perking up a bit, and perked up you needed to be when the dark-haired, round-faced healer nodded sagely and with a wide smile told you you were with child, and these early days were likely to be the worst. For the first time in days the sobs that escaped you were accompanied by a smile, your face utterly breaking as Haldir held you against his chest, weeping too and thanking you for all you would endure for this blessing.

✧ Physically carries you places as often as he can be spared to do so. Lifts you up bridal-style to move you across your home and sits you up before he feeds you. Your illness brings out a tender, caring side you have never seen in your strong, stoic husband, but it makes your heart swell that much more for him and for the life you two are to have with your child.

✧ Another symptom you experience is the aching and swelling of your feet, but Haldir sits you down facing him and makes the best work of them he can, hands gentle as always as they soothe your skin.

✧ Even in the later months as your illness abates, though, your husband remains protective as ever, standing between you and any potential harm with the fiercest look upon his face and a hand upon your middle, even if the threat is an object you’ve hurt yourself on.

✧ The way shock melts into a wide, ecstatic smile unlike your husband’s typical demeanor when the healer repeats that yes, she could definitely hear two heartbeats beside yours is worth more than any gold in the world. Haldir pulls you into his arms, chuckling deeply. You feel his head shake slightly, slowly, atop yours in wonder.

✧ When you sleep, Haldir will always be holding you close, whether it is an arm draped over your bump loosely if you’re hot or need space or else you fully tucked into your husband’s warm embrace.

Galadriel

✧ Galadriel is actually the one who assuages your worries that your dream will not come true, having full faith in you as much as the magic of this world. And she is right, of course, confidence proven in the aid you receive from a member of her guard and even the way she knows it to be true before the healer even confirms the news. As much as she jokes about seeing a glow around you, the width of her beautiful blue eyes, the shine therein, tells you that your wife is as elated to hear it beyond a shadow of a doubt as you are: you are hosting a little life for you both to nurture.

✧ You being pregnant only aids in her mysterious nature. She can be convening in a council with the wisest of minds from afar and will use you as an excuse to step away at her will. "If you will excuse me. My wife is with child." They are not even aware she is married. Some of them may not understand how it all works, but before they can ask any clarifying questions Galadriel has already slipped away to be with you.

✧ One tendency you unwittingly adopt is falling asleep in the oddest of places, your exhausted body giving out upon its own terms. Always will you wake up draped in one of your wife’s shawls or blankets, however, no matter how odd the spot.

✧ Both of you can hardly resist the allure of tiny garments, smiling every time you see them. It also rings a bell of realization within your minds as you hold a tiny gown up to your midsection. Truly as you speak, there is a tiny body within you! What magic it is to be a woman!

✧ What magic indeed, you later reflect as another pain strikes your back not long after. Hosting tiny bodies came with all the assorted blessings and curses of your kind, one not long without the other. Sighing, you make to approach the chaise across the room and soon your wife is with you, moving its drapes aside and lowering you gently to its cushions, a soothing hand tracing up and down your aching spine.

✧ "I hope she looks like you," you both turn to each other and say simultaneously, mothers' intuition firmly aligned in your hearts, from which so much love for each other pours from, Galadriel immediately drawing you closer to press her lips to the crown of your head.

Arwen

✧ Elrond had been quite hesitant about your relationship with his daughter at first- were you the best choice for her? Could someone like you keep her safe? And how, of course, would she be given the child she so desired? Questions you yourself had posed to her, but she refused to listen, telling you her mind, and heart, were sealed. Little do you know, however, that all of Rivendell would come to love you as their own, see and praise the way you cared for Arwen, and in Lindir’s case even provide the healers with a chance at you giving your wife the family you both yearned for. The moment you tell her the healers’ method worked and she is to he a mother, you both are, her features lighten, taking on the wondrous joy of youth again as she grabs your face, falling onto you with a kiss of pure love.

✧ So accusing if you've overexerted yourself, leaning in closer with a look of sometimes-teasing, sometimes-serious scrutiny. "Surely you did not carry that up the stairs all by yourself, right?"

✧ Do not even bother trying to fake feeling up to anything, whatever the task, for Arwen can see right through you and will insist you sit down, taking your hands in hers. "Rest. You have your burden- let me take the others. My heart bears no ill."

✧ Her affection gets softer, light touches to your waist and hands resting over yours. One hand upon your hip or belly and one on your shoulder as you two sway gently, foreheads pressed together.

✧ Arranging your nursery is one of Arwen's favorite pastimes: painting a gorgeous meadow mural upon the wall, stitching a soft toy to lay within the crib, asking you which fabric you prefer for blankets.

✧ Your bundle of joy can make sleep difficult, but one silver lining Arwen points out in a low whisper one morning is how many sunrises you’ve now gotten to share with each other.

Elrond

✧ Reservations about having a fourth child so long after the others disappeared every time Lord Elrond caught sight of you holding a neighbor’s child or even just showing the loving care that had him convinced he would be well even marrying a second time at all. Every smile, every sweet thing you did, all of it came back to Elrond in a rush when you told him he was to become a father again. For once he did not feel too old, too tired, nothing but the elation of his every desire unfurling to him before his very eyes from your warm embrace. To be chosen as the father to your child was the greatest honor the lord of Rivendell could imagine.

✧ Your every ailment is minimal, for Elrond knows exactly what is best for each and every one. Nausea? The perfect tea blend awaits to calm the waves you feel. Aches and cramps? Your husband is happy to give you the most heavenly massage, his hands finding every needed spot as if by magic. A swell of emotion? He does not speak unless bidden to, simply holding you through sudden waves of tears, frustration, or both until he feels your body relax against his.

✧ Being married to an elf with the gift of foresight comes with the benefit of worries soothed, but also a joke shared between you both. For many a time you teasingly chastise him not to look too far and spoil the surprise of whether you have a son or daughter on the way!

✧ Standing behind you, Elrond rests his hands around your middle and presses a kiss to your cheek. Just when you think the bliss of this moment, of having your whole little new family all together within your husband’s arms, cannot increase is when Elrond shifts his hands, taking on the great weight you carry. Peering up into his soft blue eyes, your whole body deflates in a sigh of sweet relief as he holds you.

✧ He can never truly understand your experience, but Elrond has witnessed this process. All he wishes is to tell you all your pain shall pass, even the worst memories will fade and ease, but such words will sound insensitive, so all he does is continue to hold your hand and stand proudly at your side.

✧ One thing your husband cannot resist is showering your future little one with gifts, even jewelry for when they are a bit older and the tiniest circlet to place upon the beloved head, matching Adar's perfectly.

Want to meet the little ones? Part 2 coming soon 😉

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twstedfreak · 3 months ago

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Married Life with Gojo Satoru

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵pairing !! : Gojo Satoru x Reader ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵contains !! : Fluff, crack, domestic chaos, Satoru being the most dramatic husband ever, excessive whining, teasing, playful bullying, lots of kisses, clingy Gojo, height difference antics, public displays of affection, and a very patient (or maybe just resigned) spouse (you). ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵word count !! : 523 words ⇢ read on ao3 here.

pt. 1 | next

Husband! Satoru who makes a grand entrance every time he comes home. No, seriously. You could be in the kitchen, minding your own business, and suddenly—BAM! The door flies open, and he struts in like he’s walking a red carpet. “Honey, I’m home!” he announces, sunglasses sliding down his nose as he dramatically tosses his coat aside. If you don’t immediately run into his arms like a dramatic movie scene, he’ll pout. “What, no welcome home kiss? I fought so hard today…” (He did not. He had a meeting and ate sweets the entire time.)

Husband! Satoru who will 100% use his infinity against you—for the dumbest reasons. You try to flick his forehead? Your finger stops mid-air. You attempt to steal his snacks? Nope, your hand just hovers in place, and he smirks. “Ah, ah, ah~ only good spouses get a bite,” he teases, before popping the treat into his mouth and humming in satisfaction. The audacity. The disrespect.

Husband! Satoru who definitely fakes injuries for attention. “Baaabe,” he whines, draping himself across your lap like he’s on his deathbed. “I barely survived today… my students were so mean… I need comfort… kiss my forehead, please.” You roll your eyes, but when you don’t immediately comply, he gasps. Gasps. “Oh my god. You’re heartless. I married a monster.”

Husband! Satoru who absolutely bullies you with love. If you yawn, he pokes your cheek and coos, “Aww, is my little baby sleepy?” If you wear his clothes (which, by the way, are now yours), he melts on the spot. “Look at you~ all cute and wifey~” And if you ever trip over nothing? He’s already behind you, whispering, “Don’t worry, babe… I’ll still love you even if gravity doesn’t.”

Husband! Satoru who abuses his height difference just to annoy you. Need something from the top shelf? He grabs it… but then holds it above your head, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Oh? You want this? Say ‘please, my amazing, incredibly handsome husband~’” Smack him. Immediately.

Husband! Satoru who has zero chill in public. The second someone so much as looks at you for too long, he’s pulling you into his side, pressing a loud, obnoxious kiss to your cheek. “Aww, babe, you’re so popular~ But don’t worry, I know you only have eyes for me.” Meanwhile, the poor stranger was literally just walking by.

Husband! Satoru who dramatically complains whenever you leave the bed first. “Nooo, don’t gooo,” he groans, wrapping his entire body around you like a human octopus. “Stay with me. We can survive on love and air conditioning.” When you finally pry yourself free, he flops back against the pillows with a defeated sigh. “So this is what heartbreak feels like.”

Husband! Satoru who always makes sure you know just how much he loves you. Whether it’s pulling you close at night, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, or whispering “You’re my favorite person in the world” when he thinks you’re asleep, he means every word. And honestly? You wouldn’t trade your ridiculous, over-the-top, drama king of a husband for anything.

…Well. Maybe for five minutes of peace. A/N: I’m going to be dumping all my works here, so please bear with me! I’ll also be adding a few more parts next, so stay tuned. Hope you enjoy reading! 😊

Credits to @cafekitsune for the pretty divider! :3

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hawkofkrypton · 6 months ago

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Yor’s outfit is discretely sensual and I love it.

Heya folks, allow me to elegantly hornypost for a bit. Grab thine drinks and snacks.

Yep, I am NOT talking about the Thorn Princess dress. That one is just SEXY sexy. But what she wears at home is, in my opinion, just as if not more sexy. Lets start from the obvious:

Bazongas. Yor, more often than not, is drawn with a MASSIVE chest, that the anime & manga barely focus on. That, alone, in my opinion makes it SO much hotter. Like, sure girl, go nonchalantly along with dem planets. Your comfy ass looking sweater creating this round, soft feel, mixed with a red between “sweet” and “passionate” is TOTALLY not hypnotizing.

Who NEEDS cleavage, when you got…

AN EXPOSED COLLARBONE FOR YOUR RAVEN HAIR TO FALL ONTO LIKE A WATERFALL. SURE. And the way the sweater goes down juuuuust enough to create the illusion of the middle point between “oh its falling” “oh its holding on”? Diabolical.

What else could it be hi-OH COME ON.

Loid, buddy. Broski. Bucko. I love and admire you for always trying to respect your wife’s boundaries, you’re an amazing man. But as soon as you two get intimate, dem hands BETTER be start sliding in this entrance.

Hell, not even necessarily to cup her chest while shes having a phone call and she’s trying to maintain a steady voice, no, thats too specific for someone to write. But man, if that opening doesn’t make you creative, WHAT will.

Honestly bro, if it wasn’t for her boots and Yor’s general character, I WOULD be torn on whether shes deadass wearing just a sweater and tights. Im pretty sure they’re just black pants. I think. I theorize. I game theorize. I wonder, and MAN I love how much her outfit makes me wonder.

Dem boots are just a great pick on general. Soft yet clear age, break the color scheme nicely, and in this picture theres even a lucky fudger under their heels. She could kill you with LESS.

10/10, Amazing outfit and character design no question.

#anime #manga #sxf #spy x family #spy family #yor forger #yor briar #sxf manga #sxf anime #sxf yor #yor x loid #character design #outfit #character analysis #analysis #fanservice #big booba

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valacre · 5 months ago

Text

: ̗̀➛ Touch Her Soft Lips and Part

Optimus Prime x Reader - transformers prime

Tyres rolled silently despite the weight they carried; the packed snow did much to muffle him as he neared your home. The sky was a deep blue, and it reflected upon the crystalised snow around him, casting the world in an ethereal glow you’d told him was called ‘the blue hour’. It was beautiful, yet Optimus couldn’t admire it just yet, not until he reached your house.

Winter tyres had never crossed his mind. He hadn’t need for them in Jasper, and rarely did he ever have to drive on snowy or icy roads but coming over to visit you after days apart had been important as he’d grown worried for you. It wasn’t often you stayed away for so long, and if you did then you’d usually give them a call to tell them of your schedule.

The radio silence had gnawed at him, so now, after nearly accidentally sliding off the road as the ice and snow had taken him by surprise, he slowly transformed as your house came into view. The windows appeared mostly dark at first, but upon further inspection, Optimus could see a soft, warm light coming from within the entryway. A light you usually kept on whenever you went outside so you wouldn’t be plunged into darkness should you come home late.

In other words, you were not at home.

Optimus looked around, trying to see possible tracks of your car leading away, but the snow laid out from your garage was undisturbed. Looking closer, he found partially snowed-over footprints leading away from your home and out towards a narrow path leading into the forest. Relieved to see proof of life, he’d yet to set his concerns aside as the footprints were clearly a few hours old. There wasn’t a single cloud upon the darkening sky, and you must have been gone for quite a while.

Trying not to rush, Optimus slowly follows the path, pedes finding unsteady ground as he holds his servos out to push away looming branches on both tall and smaller trees. A few moments where he almost stumbles have him mumbling a few small words in Cybertronian. Not swearing, but merely frustrated by his predicament and slowness. For all that he knew, you could be hurt and freezing in the snow, and here he is stumbling like a young sparkling trying to take its first steps.

The path grants him mercy the further he proceeds as trees grow farther apart and the land opens, revealing a fully open expanse. Optimus takes in the sight that Earth offers him. A great lake stands frozen, stretching far out and over to the great mountain on the other side, its giant peak standing like a hook towards the sky. All had yet to release its hold of the blue hour, though it was the lake whose blue tint stood out the most, the thick ice full of cracks, and it sang as the temperature dropped with the approaching night; ice growing thicker still.

And there, far out in the middle of it, was you.

Moving swiftly and with the grace of one of Earth’s swans, Optimus watched as you spun and slid across the ice. Feeling confused as to how you managed to move so quickly and easily, he tried to look closer as you unknowingly came a little closer, and beneath your feet were blades, gliding effortlessly across the frozen lake.

Yet again feeling amazed by the creativity of humanity, Optimus watched in silence for a while, appreciating and admiring the sight of you. A long, white woollen coat keeps you warm, a flowing blue scarf adorns your elegant neck, and a woollen hat hangs far down along your back, a puffy, woollen ball dangling at the end of it. It looks handmade. It must be made by you, crafty as you are. He smiles, admiring you even more.

“Optimus!” you shout, startled at the sight of him as the light of his optics caught in your peripheral. You’re still far away from him, but your voice echoes and he hears you clearly. He’s sorry for startling you but the warmth that flows through him at the sound of you has him forgetting it almost immediately.

He doesn’t reply but merely watches as you come towards him, a precious flower not made for him yet still seeking his presence and touch. His digits twitch and his optics are soft, never releasing your form as nearer and nearer you come. He sits down on one knee, ice cracking beneath him but no water comes out; all turned solid so close to shore.

“What are you doing out here?” you ask, slightly out of breath as you come to a halt. Your cheeks and nose are rosy from the cold, breath is visible in the air, and Optimus takes a moment to admire the sight. Admiring the life that spreads warmth throughout your small body.

“We had not heard from you in many days. I began to worry something was amiss,” said he, still watching you. Some of your hair was hanging out, framing your face. The dwindling blue light cast you in a lovely glow, your eyes glittering along with the snow and ice surrounding you; perfectly made for the land you’d been born to. Unknowingly, he reached out a servo, and you took it without thought, shocking him and making his spark jitter as you suddenly kissed him, cold but soft lips touching the outer part of his index digit.

“I’m sorry. There was a snowstorm five days ago and I’ve had little to no cell service. I sent messages to Miko, Jack, and Rafael in hopes that they would reach you, but it seems that it was faulty,” said you, smiling regrettably up at him. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, Optimus.”

“You need not apologise, y/n,” said he, intakes deep as his frame threatened to overheat despite the coldness surrounding him, the touch of your lips warming him from within and out. “You did what you could to reach us. I should have attempted to contact you sooner. Forgive me for my lateness,” he said, and your face split as a fond smile stretched across your mouth and eyes, and softly you chuckled as, once more, you kissed his digit, and this time Optimus’s cooling fans kicked in as his spark melted.

“You are now and forevermore forgiven, Optimus,” said you, chuckling still and resting your cheek against his servo as he reached around to hold you. Your feet slid across the ice, and he glanced down.

“These… shoes you wear on your feet. They are adorned with blades."

“Ice skates,” you said, sliding your feet back and forth with ease. “We use them to better travel across the ice, or to perform, or to just play,” you said, shrugging your shoulders as a light shudder passed through you. Being still seemed to give the cold a chance to sink its claws into you, but you resisted when he attempted to lift you up and instead shot him a hopeful smile. “Hey, won’t you join me out on the ice?”

Optimus glanced out over the lake. “Will it hold me?”

“Yes,” you said, sounding certain. “It will. I know it.” And with that, you snuck out from his hold and far too easily slid out further onto the lake, and Optimus felt the need to reach out and grab you again, already missing your softness and warmth.

It took him a few careful steps to test the ice as well as finding how slippery it was, but one step after another he gained more confidence. It didn’t take him long to reach you in the middle of the lake, his optics trained on you as slowly but surely you were cast in a bright green light. Your eyes looked upwards to gaze upon the arrival of the northern lights, and your mouth opened slightly; awestruck.

“Oh, Optimus, look how beautiful it is,” you whispered, unable to look away from the dancing light above you. Likewise, Optimus could cast his optics away from the living painting before him. You, standing amid thick, cracked ice cast in a green glow from above, yet none of it drowned you out. Instead, you were like the stars upon the night sky, glowing bright with life.

“You are beautiful,” said he; unconsciously. Speaking from his spark.

You turned to look at him, startled by his words and frozen still by his intense stare. His optics, so bright and blue, were warm and lovestruck as he bore a tender smile upon his face plate, and your heart fluttered at the sight as your breath caught in your throat. And still, even as the flush of your cheeks was now a mixture of cold and heat, you smiled back at him, admiring the way the light above danced across his frame.

Words were thrown to the wind as eyes and optics stayed locked in silent whispers, and bladed feet hung in the air as warmth engulfed chilled skin, cradling it close and protectively as metal touched soft lips, locked in a moment of ancient and new affection; fragile, but deeply burning love intertwining.

Next Music: Scott Buckley - Hymn To The Dawn & Celestial

#tfp #maccadam #transformers #optimus prime #tfp optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #vala writes #The Heart Ascending

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tswwwit · 3 months ago

Text

Here's a thing!

Containing: Bill as a widower, a surprise reincarnation, and dire threats of matrimony.

Despite how things turned out, Dipper has no regrets.

Okay. There is one: Getting caught in the first place.

But other than that, he’s lived his life the way he wanted to. Everyone told him joining the resistance was a terrible idea. That he had a bright future ahead of him, that he was smart, to not throw it all away for a useless, impossible task.

Like he could ever do anything else.

Even at the end of things, Dipper’s proud of what he accomplished. He helped so many people. He picked his fights carefully and mostly had them work out in his favor. He did the best he could, pushed himself to the very limits of his abilities, and it worked so well.

Bright future his ass. Fighting got him further than anything could. When you think of what he’s done. Where he’s clawed back territory. Who he’s saved-

A pang goes through his chest. Dipper ducks his head, hissing against the gag between his teeth.

Okay, second regret: Not saving more people. And not avenging others. Three regrets isn’t so bad. Right?

God, what else could he have managed, if he hadn’t been stupid. If he hadn’t slipped up this one time, if he could have escaped. If he could have-

“NEXT!”

Bill Cipher’s voice rings through the room. Two claps punctuate the statement, and the line moves forward.

Claws dig into Dipper arm, tighter than before. While they still don’t break the skin, the way he’s dragged forward has him hissing again. His skinned knees burn as they slide against stone, and the pain reminds him not to let up his guard.

Not here, in the Fearamid. There’s no worse place.

In a way, he’s kind of lucky. The massive pyramid that makes up Bill Cipher’s headquarters and fortress has never before breached. No member of the resistance has made it into the command base of the terrible demon who rules the west coast.

Dipper never thought he’d end up here, ever. The closest he’d imagined was in vague daydreams. The impossible kind where he had amazing powers, spouted cool one-liners, and could smash through the entire awful fortress to kick Bill Cipher right in his angles.

“Ugh.” Bill’s groan resonates through the room. “Why the hell would I need gold? Real crappy offering.” Another clap, then, “NEXT!”

Being tribute wasn’t exactly on Dipper’s bucket list.

So here he is. Dragged along by his captors to be one more present for the Nightmare King himself.

Demons try to slake their master’s insatiable greed with an endless parade of presents. The raiding never ends. The looting, the theft, the bribes - everything, everywhere gets poured into the coffers of this monster. Nothing is enough for him. It never will be.

So it’s pretty weird that Dipper’s here. By himself.

A hundred humans at once might provoke a passing interest. A few tons of liquor or - apparently not gold, no wonder that assassination attempt failed - could also catch his eye. Only the most elaborate, creative gifts might gain a bit of his favor, which is hard to get on a good day.

One human who really made Bill’s day worse, though? That might get a second look. Dipper didn’t think he was that big of a deal, but it would be kinda cool.

Or he wasn’t, and his captors will twist him into a new flesh configuration once they reach the front of the line, like performance art. Or he has been a pain, and when Bill finally gets his hands on him and can do whatever he wants to him, he’ll do unthinkably horrible -

No. Dipper can’t think like that, not now or ever. Fear won’t help. It never helps.

Terror one of Bill’s tools. He thrives on mortals cowering before him, and Dipper won’t do that.

He shakes his head to clear it, and gets the hood shoved further down for his efforts. The thin string around his neck draws tighter as a demon adjusts the cloth. Then it plucks at it, in an apparent attempt to make its captive look more ‘presentable’.

“You sure it’s-” One of the demons mutters above him. Another pluck at his hood pulls it upwards, and he hears a smack.

“Shh! Don’t show everyone ‘til we take credit,” insists the leader. Tension makes his voice rough. “You saw it. Just like in the pictures. Boss’ll love it.”

Sounds like they’re trying to reassure themselves rather than actually thinking this will go well. Dipper snorts. Amusement on the gallows.

All four demons shush him. He can practically picture them holding fingers to their mouths in unison, hissing at their captive. It makes him snort again, and a hand shoves his head down.

Shushed, of all things. The sheer absurdity makes him want to laugh.

Being captured was bad enough. All his hypervigilance turned out useless when it really counted. Everything he’d taken notes on, the plans, the studies - none of those mattered when he was dangling by his ankle from a snare in the woods like a helpless animal.

But the way he was taken captive? That was notable. A realization that only hit once he was stuffed into a box and had nothing to do except think - but an important one.

For one, most demonic traps leave their victims in multiple pieces. And for another, he wasn’t devoured afterwards. There was an odd amount of caution involved in his handling for a human with so little magic. Almost like they were frightened of doing it wrong.

And after that, he should have been smacked around and beaten for his defiance. Hell knows he didn’t take this bullshit lying down. But instead of ending up with open wounds and a broken jaw, there’s a bag over his head and rough cloth gag to shut him up.

In fact, aside from a few bruises and scrapes, Dipper’s perfectly fine. By all demonic standards, his entire kidnapping makes no sense.

Unless you know what Bill Cipher likes to do to humans.

Dipper tries to swallow past the lump in his throat. He hadn’t wanted to think of it. Now the idea won’t stop popping up, cold grey swimming through his thoughts.

There aren’t many pictures of Bill’s ‘sculpture’ garden. Most aerial shots just get the gist of it, a field spotted grey against green. Stone hands reaching for the sky or clutching their faces, thousands of bodies screaming for their life or hunkered down to the ground -

Swallowing again doesn’t help. His mouth is too dry, even when the gag is damp between his teeth.

Soon he’ll be one of the thousands of ornaments Bill makes of human lives, instead of killing them nice and clean. Another trophy.

Maybe it won’t hurt? Dipper hopes it doesn’t hurt. He hopes that that’s what he’s here for, rather than anything more creative. But it’s the only fate that makes sense.

A bit of cold comfort, then. He might not be mutilated. If he’s ‘just like the picture’ - whatever that means - then Bill will want him to stay exactly as he is.

It sounds absurd. But who knows? Odds are Bill Cipher has a type, and Dipper will make an exceptionally pleasant sight once he’s permanently a part of his estate. Maybe he’s got a thing for rebellious, fashionless nerds having the worst day of their life. Whatever goes on in that triangular brain is too weird for Dipper to fathom.

He hopes that being a statue is peaceful. Or at least not too painful. That it happens in a flash, like he’s seen in video. And if he’s lucky, the company he’ll keep for the next… forever might include his -

“Bo-ring,” Bill interrupts the next offering before the demon gets three words into their speech. “I’d say do better next time, but guess what?”

Two claps this time. Something explodes with a splatter, close enough that Dipper and his kidnapping coterie all flinch back.

“There won’t be another.” Bill finishes. He pauses for laughter at his dry semi-joke, then claps once more. “NEXT!”

The line of supplicants moves forward. Dipper’s knees skid across the floor as he’s dragged forward, sliding to a stop as his captors pause in their line.

They must be pretty far at the front by now. The group of demons in front of Dipper’s speaks excitedly to an unresponsive audience. He swears he hears a yawn.

Impressing Bill Cipher is difficult at the best of times. Doing it with one single human seems reckless even by Dipper’s limited knowledge, but excited murmurs keep darting over his head.

Either they know something he doesn’t, or there’s another factor in play. And hell, considering the tributes Dipper’s overheard, they could hardly do worse. Nothing’s impressed Bill so far. At best he’s waved off their offerings to be piled up with all the, quote, ‘other crap’.

The latest batch doesn’t fare any better than the previous one. Like last time, Bill groans and something goes ‘splat’. A sprinkle of unknown fluid hits Dipper’s knees, soaking into his jeans.

“Ugh,” Bill groans, low and extended. It seems like it’ll go on forever, until he hears, “NEXT!”

Dipper’s shoulders tense. His jaw clenches, arms and legs pressing against their bindings. None of which stops him from being pulled along in his kidnapper’s wake.

This is it, then. Facing the lord of dreams himself, eye to… cloth, Dipper doubts he’s going to get a real look at him.

Which might be for the best. Word is that Bill can manage terrible things to the human psyche, given the chance. Dipper’s very human, and he doesn’t have enough magic to defend himself even if anyone knew how to manage it.

So maybe it’s okay that he’s a little terrified, because it’s natural. And even more importantly, Bill won’t see it.

“My lord,” The demon that captured Dipper speaks in a gravelly voice. He’s a green-gray lizard creature, with several eyes, and his sheer amount of muscles belies a sharper mind than usual. Anyone who fought him might have made that mistake. “I found you somethin’ really cool.”

He sounds strangely excited about presenting a single mortal to his king. A hint of pride, maybe, that he kept it so intact? It could be difficult for demons, because Dipper’s sure never heard of it before.

His thoughts are interrupted by a slow push, sliding him forward across stone. Careful force, that lets him keep his balance instead of planting on his face. At least he’ll face his fate upright.

One more tribute. Sitting in front of a king, in a crowd of monsters, Dipper has his pride. And he will not bow.

And the response from Bill Cipher is… probably not what the leader wanted.

Dipper hears another groan, followed by a heavy sigh. “Wow. A human. Never seen one of those before.”

Ah, great. Sarcasm. Bill Cipher sounds as impressed with Dipper as he was with the dozen tributes before him - bored, tired, blase.

Dipper straightens his back, oddly offended. Wait, he doesn’t suck as tribute, right? Part of his pride hinged on his captor not being an idiot. It made losing less embarrassing.

“Ugh. Seriously getting tired of this crap.” Bill’s voice has a tinge of annoyance to it. Kind of a whine, even. “Like I don’t have enough in the rock garden already. The shine rubbed off that apple a while ago.”

“Er,” The lizard demon hesitates. “Uh, well. Nah, see, there’s-”

“Eh, whatever.” With another sigh, Bill snaps his fingers. “Alright, one statue, coming u-”

“Wait!”

The crowd hushes. A few gasps, a couple whispers at the sheer audacity. Even Dipper twists to look at his captor in sheer surprise. A useless gesture, he still has a hood over his freakin’ face. But, like. What?

That gruff voice burst out so quickly that it sounded almost defensive, and - what the hell is going on?

The too-busy hall has gone eerily quiet. Even the mad Nightmare King doesn’t speak, probably surprised at this act of open defiance.

“I- sorry, sorry, my lord. But, like, you’re gonna really like this one.” The demon continues, rapid like he’s on the verge of panic. But insistent, too. A tense excitement runs through his words. “You gotta take a look.”

Dipper blinks in a fruitless attempt to clear his eyes. Stupid fabric over his face. He’s flying blind here.

He wishes he could see everyone’s reactions. Mortals bore Bill at best. Aside from making them into decorations, he barely bothers interacting directly. One young human shouldn’t make a demon yell at Bill Cipher. He shouldn’t matter, or be important, or even register as anything. What the hell?

The crowd stays deathly silent. Bill doesn’t speak. A slow tapping of fingers thuds like a drum in the quiet, a slow contemplative beat.

The Lord of Nightmares holds his own counsel as he judges this outburst. Weighing his options.

“Huh,” Bill says, a second after Dipper thought everything would explode - “Got a lotta confidence in your prize, I see! Guess that’s kinda interesting.” His voice grows louder as he approaches, but there aren’t any footsteps. This monster floats. “Whatcha got there?”

“Well, he was runnin’ about messing up some stuff, and, well, we saw him and - y’know.” The lead demon continues babbling, voice rising to a squeak. Bill must have closed the distance, meeting him eye to multiple eyes. “And! And we made sure not to leave a mark or anything, we was real careful.” A beat of pause; presumably Bill giving him an askance look. “Aside from tying ‘em up, yeah? He woulda run off otherwise.”

“Huh.” Bill says, again. More thoughtful now.

The same thing Dipper might have said, if he wasn’t gagged. True, he hasn’t been beaten up for fun, or toyed with, or devoured. But he’d guessed it was to leave him a more presentable statue.

Said Nightmare King must be very close by now, intrigued by the semi-sales pitch - or maybe because there’s a secret. Dipper can feel warmth in front of him, radiating from an unseen source.

Another drumming, fingers on metal. Then, with a hint of a shrug. “Alright. Show me.”

The hood whips off, and Dipper gets a dizzying look at a massive room, black stone bricks and red lines, demons everywhere. Adjusting to the light takes a second, until his eyes land on the shape in front of him.

Dipper blinks a few times - then glares at this jackass.

Bill Cipher, King of Nightmares, conqueror of half the country and weird goddamn asshole, blinks right back.

Dipper’s seen this monster before, though not in person. Cipher’s always on the news. Appearing on TV and in print, whenever he conquers another piece of territory. His pictures are in magazines, photographs in articles, he has a few intimidating ad spots online - he’s everywhere, even on some forms of cash. It’s impossible to avoid this stupid shape.

And wow, none of that is photoshopped, huh. Turns out Bill’s exactly as weird as advertised. Polygonal and golden. Noodly limbs, top hat, everything.

A total, monstrous asshole.

Dipper strains at his bindings, rising up on his knees. Unfortunately, the gag’s still in place, so instead of cursing this jackass out like he wants to, it’s all muffled shouting.

Bill Cipher goes perfectly still. He hovers in place, a motionless midair shape.

His single eye has a split pupil, and it meets Dipper’s own without moving. Or blinking, either, even though it’s been long enough that Dipper gave up trying to match it.

He’s just. Staring.

Which is… honestly getting eerie. The motionless focus, the impenetrable gaze. Not intimidating, of course. But weird.

Dipper drops back with a huff. Great. He’s having zero effect on this guy. Not even annoyance, and he hoped there’d be some.

As a last ‘fuck you’, he lifts his bound hands in Bill’s direction, and flips him off.

Bill’s pupil narrows to a single thin line. He makes a strange, back-of-the-throat sound without any visible neck. Like he’s choking.

“So, uh,” The lizard demon rubs at the back of his neck. Greenish sweat pours down his scales, and he wipes it on his tunic in short swipes. “Do you-”

“Shut up and gimme.” Bill interrupts. He darts forward in a blink of motion, making grabby hands in the direction of Dipper’s face. “Gimme gimme gimme!”

Neither Dipper nor his captor have time to react. Bill simply seizes him by the shoulders, hauling him away from his captors and onto his feet so fast his shoes leave streaks on the floor.

“Mh!” Dipper yells against his gag, stumbling to catch his balance. It isn’t the most eloquent protest, but he hopes the ‘you jerk’ gets across anyway.

While Bill’s hands are relatively small, they’re impossibly strong. His grip on Dipper’s biceps feels close to bruising, slightly shaking in its intensity.

Bill tugs him closer. The bizarre pupil flashes through a series of shapes too rapid to parse. A second later it flips horizontal, sweeping a beam of light up and down Dipper, head to toe.

While it doesn’t feel like anything, Dipper does his best to wriggle away. He hopes it messes with whatever scan this bastard’s doing. He hopes it’s as annoying as this demon is. A kick aimed at one of Bill’s floating legs didn't land, but it was worth a shot.

Bill ignores his struggles. He laughs at the kicks, which deserves more kicking. He wraps those horrible noodle arms around Dipper's biceps like ropes and giggles when Dipper growls at him, flickering side-to-side in weird, glitchy glee.

The sound of his stupid laughter makes Dipper want to fight him all the harder - useless, of course, those arms only look noodly. They’re super-magically powered. But that doesn’t mean he won’t try.

“Oh.” Bill says, lower than before. He draws Dipper close, bringing him almost within headbutting range. “Oh, now this is beautiful.”

“Mh?” Dipper tries to glare to poor effect. Confusion and anger keep jockeying for space in his head, and he’s pretty sure it shows.

And Bill starts laughing, high and loud and wild. He’s glowing now, surface lit from within with a bright golden light.

“Well! Gotta say this is interesting!” Bill pushes him back slightly, at a human-ish arm’s length. Though he still keeps a solid grip on Dipper’s arms , squeezing tight. “But man, this wrapping’s crap! What happened to ribbons on presents, guys?” His eye rolls. “Lemme fix that.”

With that said, he grows a third arm from one of his sides and snaps his fingers.

The cloth of Dipper’s gag parts like it was clipped with scissors. The bindings on his wrists cleave open, the chains on his ankles explode off his socks, and it’s only because Bill’s still holding him upright that Dipper doesn’t fall over out of sheer surprise.

He wipes at his mouth - spitting out threads in the process, he’d really been trying to chew through the gag - and coughs. With his wrists untied, he can flex his fingers and drop his arms to his sides, hands clenched into fists.

Because now he’s… free-ish. For some reason. With Bill holding onto him there’s zero chance of getting away, but still.

Dipper works his jaw a little, to loosen it. Rubs his wrists to ease the low ache. There’s a huge crowd of demons in this immense hall, so. No escape routes, not when the place is packed with monsters like a can of sardines.

Eventually he has to admit he’s wasting time. The big problem is right in front of him, if he can just. Face it.

Taking a deep breath, he turns his head to look at the worst creature in the entire goddamn world.

Bill’s lower eyelid has risen up in a curve, kind of like a smile. Still laser-focused on Dipper’s face, boring into him as if he could see into his soul. Or maybe plotting a laser course through his prefrontal cortex.

But there isn’t any mockery. No taunting or yelling or stupid puns. None of the typical theatrics that you’d see on a news report. Just… more staring.

Dipper clears his throat. He tugs at the collar of his shirt.

The whole room has gone so, so quiet. He didn’t think it could get quieter than before, but that was people glancing at each other, waiting for a chance to leave the crime scene. A hush littered with bits of gossip and gasps, warnings passing between the crowd.

This silence is an indrawn breath. Held in anticipation.

So. Here he is. In front of the greatest, most powerful monster in history, and instead of being a cool dramatic confrontation, with like. Action, or a witty back-and-forth - it’s just awkward.

“Well, sapling?” Bill prompts, eye narrowing. He releases Dipper’s arms only to point directly at his face. Like he's accusing him of something. “Got anything to say for yourself?”

Dipper breathes in deep.

Okay, then. Space to talk? A chance to say whatever he wants?

Yeah. That he can work with.

“Fuck you, Bill.” He spits out the words, putting all the hate in his heart into the venom of his tone. He steps forward, getting right in this asshole’s… face? Surface? Whatever. “I hope you die. In a fire. And that your ugly-ass pyramid falls on you, and you get crushed in the rubble, and - and that your exoskeleton gets melted down for scrap, because you just suck that much.”

Bill… says nothing. No magic twists Dipper into a terrible shape. No pain jolts through his body.

And when Dipper dares to look him in the eye, his face reflects back from the infinite depths of Bill’s pupil, blown wide from the tiny slit of seconds ago. By this point it’s nearly a circle. Which is weird, and kind of intimidating -

But he’s not made of rock yet. Bill hasn’t retaliated, probably because he’s too stunned to react. And fuck him.

“And another thing,” Dipper continues, less steadily now. He didn’t have a speech prepared. But since he’s not dead, hell, might as well make the most of it. “You’re dumb as hell, and I hate you. So much. You’re the worst thing that could ever happen to m-”

Something goes ‘splat’ just beside him, making him flinch. Another wet sound lands nearby, followed by another, and another. A slow patter that builds in pace, rapid and thick.

Dipper stares in horror as literal, throbbing hearts pop up and circle around Bill Cipher’s top hat, spinning in a rapid circle. As more manifest, old ones fall to the floor like the world’s worst rainstorm, spattering red across the stone. Even his pupil is that same friggin’ organ now, pumping away in silhouette.

“Aha. Ha ha!” Bill’s voice raises in pitch with his laughter, and his fingers wiggle in anticipatory glee, just before his arms extend and coil around Dipper’s body, pinning his arms to his sides. “HA HA HA HA HA!”

Dipper opens his mouth to protest. Rather pointless in retrospect, though he does get out a “Hey!” as he’s lifted off the ground.

That stupid heart-rain has stopped, at least. Now it’s just Bill, glowing incredibly bright and giggling like the complete madman he is.

Dipper kicks out in protest, swearing and struggling. Bill’s dumb noodle arms have some give to them, but they’re wrapped tight enough that it doesn’t matter.

“YOU!” Bill’s voice was already loud, but now it resonates. Filling the hall with a boom, ringing against the walls. His eye has blown out to a circle again, and in the depths a few strange, starlike dots glimmer. “Of course it’s YOU! Nothing was gonna keep you away, was it? And now you’re back!”

This is the point where Dipper would protest again. Or threaten, or question or - something.

But it’s pretty hard to get words out when an insane demon is spinning you around like a carnival ride, complete with fireworks overhead.

Below him the crowd cheers, a raucous chorus. He could swear more demons are pouring in by the second into an already packed hall. Lights are going off and on in a strobe, with the pop of fireworks ringing overhead. Music blares from one corner, then another as stereo sound kicks on.

Between the explosions, the lightshow, the noise - Dipper would try to figure out what the hell is going on, if he weren’t trying not to be sick from the spinning.

Bill doesn’t seem to notice any of this, focused on the human he’s captured. Eventually he slows, letting Dipper touch solid ground again Dipper with a glimmer in his eye that instantly makes him wary. Something is up, and he doesn’t know -

“I know just what to do with you, kid.” Bill says, eye narrowing. Two hands come up and cup Dipper’s cheeks, strangely warm - “C’mere!”

Watching Bill’s eyeball drop back into its socket, and the huge, sharp teeth emerge from the mouth where his eye should be, Dipper knows immediately that this. This is how he’s going to die.

Then the eyelids purse into lips, and Bill hauls him in face-first.

“Mmmmwha!” A long, exaggerated sound. Pretty dramatic, really. Bill draws back, eye smiling at Dipper as he squeezes his cheeks with both hands. “Oh man! You have no idea how long I’ve waited for that!”

“Whuh.” Dipper says, intelligently.

Bill cackles, chucking Dipper under the chin, then tickling it with a couple fingers. “Ha! Did one little smooch rock your world?” His eye wiggles, with horrible, terrible implications. “Don’t worry, there’s way more where that came from!”

Dipper reels from the sensation of having his whole face - not eaten, or rearranged, but - His legs totter, but the arms around him keep him upright.

A million questions whirl around. None of them have answers. They simply spin and spin and spin until Dipper’s brain feels blank, like -

Oh. Okay.

Intellectually, Dipper knew that Bill could break minds. He just thought it’d be more gory and torturous. For some reason.

“And as for you-” Bill turns towards the cluster of demons that brought Dipper here, to this weirdo showcase. Under his gaze, even the most terrible monsters cluster together with nervous smiles. “Who’s in charge of your little outfit?”

Tentatively, arm shaking, the leader raises a hand. Bill’s eye snaps to it and he floats in, right in front of the lizard demon’s sweating, scaly face.

Then his lower eyelid rises in that strange emulation of a smile, and he gives him an incredibly hard high-five.

“Alright everyone, listen up!” Bill proclaims, turning towards the crowd. Grabbing the lead captor’s wrist, he raises it up like a winning prizefighter. “These guys get free drinks for the next two millennia!”

A cheer rises up from the crowd. The lizard demon’s mouth purses in a ‘o’ of delight, hands fluttering at his cheeks like a human winning a gameshow. Dipper spends a moment staring at the frankly bizarre site of a group of demons clutching each other like giddy highschoolers, bouncing in a circle.

“You heard it here first, guys! The boy is back!” Bill shouts. He whirls in a full circle, nearly giving Dipper a heart attack. It feels like any moment he’s going to fall, even when he’s wrapped up - “And you know what that means?”

Gasps bubble up from the gathered demons. A susurrus of voices starts, fluttering back and forth in the crowd.

‘Party’, is whispered from one corner. Another careful voice ventures to ask, ‘Party?’. The word repeats, flickering in and out of hearing as it spreads through the crowd. Off in the back a single voice lets out a loud ‘Wooo!’

“That’s right!” Bill is so, so loud, and so, so pleased. He holds Dipper overhead, bouncing him up and down. “Iiiiit’s PARTY TIME!”

An explosion of confetti covers the room. A disco ball drops from the ceiling, music bursts from unseen speakers, and Bill sets his captive down on the floor next to him. His arms uncoil, spinning Dipper around like a top until he thinks he’ll fall-

As the room reels around him, Dipper reaches out for the closest solid surface, leaning on it until the room stops whirling around him.

If the surface happens to be the worst asshole ever, well. He didn’t have any other options.

“Hell, free drinks for everyone tonight!” Bill shouts, to a huge, monstrous cheer from the crowd. Part of the room has transformed into a long bar, and a good third of the demons are already rushing towards it. “Get while the getting’s good, guys!”

Watching the stampede, Dipper’s too surprised to move, until the demon under his elbow does it for him.

“Stick close, sapling. These guys can get pretty rowdy!” Bill says. His metallic surface is warm, not quite hot to the touch. The corner pressing into Dipper’s side, though, that’s annoying. “Don’t want you getting lost again.”

A tight belt wraps around his waist and makes him startle - but it’s just Bill again. A small black hand pats his stomach twice before taking hold of his shirt.

And Dipper’s standing here, not dead. Not a statue, not an experiment. Kind of an offering, maybe, but a weird one. He’s just…

Standing beside Bill goddamn Cipher, unharmed by the most unhinged creature in the universe. And why the fuck is that?

An explanation has to be nearby. A reason. For everything.

Why he’s here. Why he got this reaction. Why this Bill is so not like the Bill on the news, and maybe even why demons are chanting ‘chug chug chug!’ to a monster bodysurfing the crowd, drinking from a bottle the size of his arm.

Dipper feels a glass pressed into his hand, cold with a slender stem. He holds it absentmindedly, glancing around the room and the raucous party kicking up, trying to find sense in the nonsensical.

The hall is huge, so. Fits a party atmosphere, he guesses. Bill himself has one ropy arm warped around his waist, with a grip on his shirt so tight he’s pretty sure it’d tear if he took off running. Behind them is the dais where Bill reigned over the tributes, making each and every decision from his throne -

Dipper does a double-take, glancing back over his shoulder.

A second throne sits next to Bill’s on the dais. Way harder to spot, though; it lies in shadow, unlike the brightly lit rest of the room. The dark grey blends with the shaded light until it nearly matches the black walls. A seat too small for any human-sized person, and too human-shaped for any different kind of person. Instead of either, a painting rests on the seat.

Easing out of Bill’s grasp is impossible, but with effort Dipper manages to twist around for a better look.

The painting is set in a gilded frame with elaborate designs - mostly triangle based, no surprise there - but the picture itself is of a human.

Sitting in the smaller throne is a portrait of a young man. Messy brown hair and a lean build, wearing casual clothes and a faint half smile. His head tilts towards the viewer, as if they just caught his attention. His expression looks like he heard a dumb joke and is ready to retort, amusement shining in his dark brown eyes. Beneath his bangs a series dots and lines in pink stands out, like a strangely shaped… birthmark.

Dipper’s hand flies to his chest. His heart feels like it’s stopped for a second.

No, wait. That can’t-

He whips around, getting a ‘hey!’ from Bill who nearly spills his martini at the motion. Dipper smacks him out of the way, his hat is blocking the view.

Now that he’s spotted them, they’re impossible to miss. One portrait hangs out to the left of the throne, sleepy-eyed and cowlicked hair blinking in the viewer's direction. On the right a shirtless human lounges on a couch, jeans slightly undone. Another hangs from the ceiling of all things, glaring down at Bill’s throne from above like an annoyed god.

Shit. The pictures.

They all look exactly like Dipper.

“Geez, aren’t you squirmy? Ha! Figures!” Bill says, floating closer. When one of his arms loops around Dipper’s neck and he tousles his hair, it meets a man gone still as a statue. “You’re always a pain in the angles! It’s adorable!”

“What the fuck is this.” Dipper can’t even make it a question. His voice is too tense to rise at the end.

Bill’s eye swivels from his face, to the portraits, then back again. It rolls in its socket so far back it comes around again. “You. Duh.”

“How-” No, that’s not the right question. “What- Wh- huh?”

Not his best showing. Words aren’t working right; they fail him along with his usually organized thoughts. Dipper can’t concentrate. His mind filled with too much weird and why and - in an insane section of his brain - an incredulous, really, Bill?

“Oh, that.” Bill says, flicking away dismissively. He gestures over the portraits, the party, and then at himself. His arm makes another loop around Dipper’s neck, loosely draped. “What’s to wonder about? It’s simple!”

“Is it.” Dipper says, flat. He stares forward, even as the arm snakes around and around his torso in two loose loops.

“Absolutely!” Bill’s voice drops as he closes in. Not quiet, but muted enough to not be heard over the party crowd. “See, you got away from me once, kid. And fair enough, that’s what mortals do!” The stem of the martini glass shatters in his grasp, and he drops the remains with a casual flick. “They die on ya!”

Dipper glances at the portrait on the throne, then back to Bill. Tries to swallow, though his mouth feels dry with a sudden, looming realization.

“But there’s no escape this time. Never again.” Bill's eye narrows, so close to Dipper's face it's nearly touching. “Prepare for happily ever after.”

#This is not a oneshot #I actually have a whole plot for this and everything #God help me #Do I have to come up with a title for this? Maybe I'll wait on that #In my docs it's called marrying the grief-mad demon scourge but I'll probably pick something Punny #As is my fashion

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cosmowgyral · 3 months ago

Text

"Beast in Office"- April Fool's Short AU Story

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

GVO Group

Until corruption and deceit vanish from the world—the GVO Group will lead us toward a tomorrow free of conflict.

This spring, I am changing jobs.

For the job interview, I made my way to the top floor of a gleaming, jet-black skyscraper—

Gilbert: You’re hired.

Emma: …Huh?

Gilbert: You’re my secretary now, so I’ll be counting on you starting tomorrow, okay?

Luke: Hey hey, hold up! She hasn't even stepped in and said a single word!

Gilbert: She doesn’t need to say anything. She is hired.

Sariel: Sir Gilbert, I think you’re being a bit hasty. She does seem quite taken aback.

Sariel: Besides, a job interview is also meant for the applicant to decide whether our company is truly the right fit for them.

Sariel: If you declare her hired without giving her a say, people might start questioning your sense of judgment.

Gilbert: What’s this? Since when does a tax accountant get to have a say on things like this?

Gilbert: Or is it something else? Maybe the company backing you told you to block any talented hires from getting through?

Sariel: You must be joking. It seems like Sir Gilbert is always suspecting me of being a kind of corporate spy…

Sariel: As you can see, I merely offered a suggestion in my capacity as an ordinary employee.

(The atmosphere is intense!)

(I checked the company website beforehand, so I know—the guy with the eyepatch is most likely the president.)

(And the one sitting to his right must be the tax accountant.)

(The one by the window—big build and a serious vibe—he’s probably the president’s personal bodyguard.)

(And then---)

Kagari: You want a dorayaki?

Kagari: I’m the company’s official dorayaki vendor. Got a solid rep for flavor.

Kagari: The president downs about a hundred a day so business is booming.

Kagari: What say?

Emma: Then… I’ll have one please.

Emma: Wow, this is amazing! I wasn’t expecting it to be this good.

Kagari: Approved. I’m with the president—anyone who loves dorayaki can’t be bad at all.

Gilbert: I don’t like that you’re sneakily boosting your approval rating all by yourself—but since she’s clearly enjoying herself, I’ll let it slide.

Luke: Emma, was it?

Luke: So why’d you choose our company? You’ve figured it out by now, right? The boss is totally nuts.

(Here it comes, the reason I applied…. I’ve thought it through so I’ll be fine.)

Emma: You company is a leading name in the public safety industry—it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you’re responsible for all the nation’s security operations.

Emma: I was deeply moved by your philosophy—preventing crimes before it happen and creating a world where no one has to suffer, as a stepping stone towards global peace.

Emma: That’s why I applied, to see if I could be a part of that mission and contribute in any way I can.

Luke: …Don’t buy into that. That’s just a pretense—

Gilbert: Mhm, I like it. If you’re interested in world peace too, then you’re more than welcome here.

Gilbert: I absolutely despise corruption and deceit, but you seem like someone who’s got nothing to do with any of that.

Luke: You serious…? You’re really gonna drag a regular person into a workplace where assassins show up daily?

(Huh? Assassins?)

Sariel: I’m worried too. Becoming Sir Gilbert’s secretary practically guarantees getting caught up in trouble……

Gilbert: I don’t recall hiring anyone incompetent. As long as everyone does their job properly, there’s no problem at all.

Gilbert: More importantly, do you really think I’d ever allow such carelessness?

Luke • Sariel: …………

(This conversation’s getting way too sketchy! Don’t tell me… is the GVO Group actually some kind of shady organization..?)

Kagari: Do you want some more dorayaki?

Emma: Y-yes, please.

Gilbert: Well then, we already have the employment contract prepared.

Gilbert: All that’s left is for you to sign right here.

Gilbert: Everyone else can say what they want, but in the end, it’s your decision.

Gilbert: I’ll respect whatever you decide, okay?

(There might be a hidden side to this company that the world is unaware about.)

(But still, my desire to join this company remains unchanged.)

(Even if they are operating secretly behind the scenes, they have achieved real results in protecting this country’s peace…)

(I won’t know anything until I see it with my own eyes.)

Emma: Thank you very much. I’ll do my absolute best in this role.

Luke: Ahh, another poor soul has been added to the list.

Sariel: …In that case, it’s up to us to protect her now.

Kagari: From enemies? I’m good at cutting them down so leave it to me.

Gilbert: Heehee, let’s work hard together—for the sake of world peace, okay?

While Sariel and Luke buried their faces in their hands, Kagari remained expressionless, and President Gilbert greeted me with a dazzling smile—so radiant it was almost blinding, brimming with charm and confidence.

And so, I took his outstretched hand.

#ikemen prince #ikepri translations #ikepri #ikepri jp #ikemen prince translations #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #sariel noir #ikepri sariel #ikepri kagari #kagari amagase #luke randolph #ikepri luke #d: strangergraphics

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gpcwsl · 5 months ago

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could you do something where reader always tries to make alessia laugh because she loves to hear it? You can include fluff/smut/angst, whatever you want i trust you hehe

Alessia Russo x Reader

- I love your laugh -

MasterList

WC: 815

Warnings: nothing? Maybe short?

Like this new format (ish)?

The first time you heard Alessia Russo laugh, it stopped you in your tracks. It wasn’t just the sound—though it was beautiful, light, and completely infectious—but the way it made her eyes crinkle and her entire face light up. It was pure joy, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

From that moment, it became your mission to hear it again. And again.

You quickly learned that Alessia’s laugh wasn’t always easy to earn. Sure, she’d chuckle politely at a joke or smile at something mildly amusing, but that full-on, belly laugh you’d stumbled upon that first time? That required effort. Creativity.

And you were more than willing to put in the work.

It starts small, little moments where you test the waters.

“Alessia,” you say one day during a team meeting, leaning over to whisper. “What do you call a fake noodle?”

She raises an eyebrow, already suspicious, but humors you. “What?”

“An impasta,” you reply with a straight face.

She groans, shaking her head, but you catch the corner of her mouth twitching upward. “That’s terrible.”

“Terribly funny,” you counter, and she finally breaks, a soft giggle slipping past her lips.

It’s not the laugh you’re chasing, but it’s a start.

From there, it becomes a game for you. You find yourself going out of your way to say or do things just to see her smile. During training sessions, you deliberately exaggerate your moves, tripping over imaginary obstacles or doing an overly dramatic celebration whenever you score.

“Show-off,” Alessia teases one day after you slide across the grass like you’ve just won the World Cup.

“Jealous?” you shoot back, brushing dirt off your knees.

“Of that?” She smirks, but there’s warmth in her eyes.

And then it happens. As you attempt to recreate your “victory dance” a second time, you lose your balance and topple to the ground. The other players laugh, but it’s Alessia’s laugh that rings out above the rest, bright and uninhibited.

You stay on the ground a moment longer, grinning up at her. “Totally worth it,” you mumble, and she laughs even harder.

Over time, it becomes less about the jokes and more about the moments. The quiet ones, when it’s just the two of you.

Like the time you found her sitting alone after a tough game. She’d missed a crucial shot, and while no one blamed her, you could see the weight of it in her slumped shoulders.

You didn’t say anything at first, just sat down beside her and offered her a piece of gum.

She took it, unwrapping it slowly before glancing at you. “Thanks.”

“You know,” you said after a moment, “I was going to make a joke about how bad that shot was, but I figured I should wait until you’re not tempted to kick a ball at my face.”

Her lips twitched, and she shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re smiling,” you pointed out, nudging her gently.

She laughed softly, the sound like music to your ears.

Then there are the days when it’s effortless. When she’s in a good mood, and her laughter spills out freely, filling whatever space you’re in. Those are the moments you live for.

One evening, after a team dinner, the two of you end up walking back together. It’s late, and the streets are quiet, but you’re both buzzing from the night’s energy.

“Do you ever get tired of being this amazing?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

Alessia snorts. “Pretty sure that’s your job, not mine.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agree. “But I’m thinking of retiring. You’re making me look bad.”

She rolls her eyes but laughs, the sound warm and familiar.

And then, without thinking, you say, “I love your laugh, you know.”

The words hang in the air, and you freeze, realizing how much weight they carry.

Alessia stops walking, turning to face you. “You do?”

There’s no point in backtracking now, so you nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. It’s… I don’t know. It just makes everything feel better.”

For a moment, she just looks at you, her expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, she smiles—not the polite kind or the teasing one, but something softer, more genuine.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, her cheeks tinting pink.

You shrug, trying to play it cool even though your heart is racing. “No big deal. Just don’t stop laughing, okay?”

She laughs at that, and it feels like a promise.

From then on, things shift between you. Alessia starts seeking you out more, sitting beside you during meals, texting you random things that make her laugh, and even throwing a joke or two your way.

It’s not always about the laughter anymore, but it’s still your favorite thing. Because every time Alessia Russo laughs, it feels like the world is a little brighter—and you’re the luckiest person in it.

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eustasskidagenda · 2 years ago

Text

anon asked: Hi! I just read your Kid, Zoro, Law & Sanji hc with a s/o afraid of having sex and I just loved it! Your writing is amazing and I really enjoyed it. I struggle with vaginismus so I pretty much know how stressful this situation could be. But I’m actually curious to request you the same hc but with much BIGGER boys, especially Doflamingo, Crocodile and Katakuri. Please feel free to add other big men bc I honestly can’t get enough of them.😭😭😭

Hi hi! So I feel really dumb because I accidentally deleted the request, but luckily, I had copied/pasted the text of my doc before. But sorry, anon D: Anyway, thank you so much for liking my work and for requesting! That was pretty fun to write. I decided to add King and the sweet Corazon. And before starting, please have a look at this, lol. Those guys are so BIG, help.

☆Doflamingo, Crocodile, Katakuri, King & Corazon with a s/o afraid of having sex

CW (generals) : smut, MDNI, v!sex, f!reader, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), size kink

WC : Oh my God, I got carried away... 4,3k. Enjoy. :D

⇢ You can read the part one here & the part three here

Doflamingo

CW : a lot of teasing, creative use of devil fruit, slight praise, slight dirty talk, unprotected sex, pet name

Doflamingo is, let's say, complicated. Of course, he considers you as a part of the Donquixote family, and he cares deeply about his close ones. But, on the flip side, he can't help but love when people are stressed or afraid because of him. It plays with his constant need for dominance. So first, he would grin, almost laugh, and be extremely pleased with himself. "My poor little bird is afraid… because of my size?" While running his fingers along the length of his cock through his pants. "I'll make it good for you, don't worry, just leave it to me."

Doflamingo craves dominance, so he would be more than satisfied with this situation, his eyes roaming over your body with eagerness. He's a really patient man and also loves to play and tease you all the time. "Lay down comfortably on the bed." He would say, placing his heavy, large hands on either side of your hips, slowly pushing you down on the mattress, his eyes shining with nothing but pure desire.

He loves how tiny your body looks when he's towering over you. It makes you look so vulnerable. Oh, sure, he loves when his s/o is smaller than him. Again, it plays with his constant need of domination. He finds it fascinating that he could destroy you with one hand. Luckily, you're his precious bird, so he would probably play with you and inflict some pain on you, but only what you're able and willing to take.

His hands would be surprisingly feather-light while running all over your body, tracing all of your curves, and fondling your breasts. Then, pinching your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index, delighted by all of your shivering and sighs.

"Mh, you're so needy, y/n" with a low, teasing laugh as he slowly runs his fingers down your trembling thighs, tracing along the sensitive skin before slowly, really slowly reaching for your wet folds. He would smile, his eyes fixed on your pussy, fascinated by how needy you are already for him. But that's not enough. He is eager for more. "So pretty"

He would begin to tease you mercilessly, tracing soft patterns on your inner thighs and lower-belly. He likes to play with anticipation. He's not the kind of man who just roughly and mechanically slides his fingers inside you. Without teasing, there's no fun.

The more you squirm and moan, the more he's pleased, watching your pussy becoming more and more wet.

"So eager already." Purring close to your ears, making you shiver even more, leaving a trail of goosebumps along your spine. "What should I do now? What do you want y/n, my tongue or my fingers?"

You'll have both in the end, so don't worry.

It's clear that Doflamingo has mastered using his long tongue. And the same applies to his fingers always fidgeting when he uses his devil fruit. He's probably a master when it comes to fingering and oral sex. So he would slowly sink between your thighs, licking your soft skin before finally allowing you to feel his tongue against your sensitive folds, keeping your thighs open enough for him with his heavy hands.

You just can't help but arch your back as he eats you out, turning you into a whining and moaning mess. He would drink your juice as if it was a precious wine. "That's it", humming against your slit, licking your clit. Slowly, he would slide a thick finger inside of you. His mind would probably be a bit dizzy, thinking about how good he would feel with his cock inside of your tightness.

"You're so responsive, little bird," before adding another finger and hitting that sweet spot, still licking your clit.

And he won't stop until you cum all over his tongue and fingers. "Good girl"

With eyes darkened with desire, he would finally removing his pants, his heavy and extremely long cock springing free, leaking in pre-cum and twitching in anticipation. You can't help but look at his length, stressed. "Do you like looking at my big cock, little bird? Does it turn you on to know that I'm going to fuck you senseless?" So sure, he would grin again before lying on his back and letting you ride him.

He perfectly knows how to control himself so he won't just push roughly while you line your pussy with his cockhead, trying to brace yourself-up. You definitely want to do it, but you feel nervous. "Need some help, little bird?"

As you nod, he would use his devil fruit to guide you. With one broad hand wrapping around your waist and the other guiding the strings, he would slowly force your hips to move down, impaling you on his breathtaking thickness, his eyes sparkled with mischief. That's the moment you would see him lose his grin as he can't handle how tight and wet you feel all around him. "So tight…"

"You can take more?" As long as you tell him to keep going, he would continue to guide your hips down his length, groaning softly, with his hand fondling the flesh of your waist. "That's it, take it, take it all."

As you start to moan, he would say "What's up little bird, you love how well I am stretching you?"

And as you slowly get used to his cock stretching your walls, his cock throbbing inside you, Doflamingo would nicely use his strings to guide you moving up and down, delighted by the sloshing noises. The way your core swallows his length would be mind-blowing for him. The sight of your wetness covering his cock every time you move up and down is something he would love to see more often. Be prepared to entertain your king again.

Crocodile

CW : slight domination kink, praises, he's smoking because well it's Crocodile, oral sex (Crocodile receiving), slight hair pulling, using of his hook in a slight creative way but nothing extreme, belly bulge, unprotected sex

Another DILF and dominant man.

Crocodile is a silent man. So the second you tell him you're nervous because it's been a while since the last time you had sex and that you're also nervous because he's both long and thick, he would just raise an eyebrow. Just like Doflamingo, he would love the feeling of you being intimidated, because Crocodile definitely has a thing (and a kink) for dominance. He likes when you acknowledge his rank and qualities.

"You're afraid because of my size?"

He would lead your hand until you reached his cock. "If you're nervous, then you have to become familiar with it." So he would feel the girth and the veins, breathing deeply, delighted by the sight of your small hands trying to correctly wrap his thickness. "That's it, y/n. Touch it and get used to it. Soon, it will be all within you."

He would talk with his usual deep, raspy, and calm voice, the one that always sends shivers down your spine. And sure, he would act all dominant, smoking his cigar while you try so hard to satisfy him. Of course, he would look down at you. You are in his hands. So let go of all your intrusive thoughts and just focus on him. Only him.

"Suck it."

He would watch closely as you try to wrap your tongue around his cock, tracing all the veins, and licking hungrily all the pre-cum leaking from his cockhead. He would grab a hand from your hair with his heavy and broad hand, leading your head back and forth, while watching you drool and struggle to breathe all over his cock. He would slowly lose his composure, sighing huskily, unable to handle how cute you look with your mouth full of his cock, trying to figure out how to take more of his length. He would find the sight of his member glistening with your saliva to be quite entertaining.

"That's a good girl. Come get your rewards."

The moment he blows out his cigar and removes his rings, you know the real deal is about to start.

He would likely use his large hook, carefully running the sharpened tip along the soft skin of your stomach. Before slowly leaving a trail of kisses along your neck. Avoid running your hands through his hair and stay still like the good girl you are. Otherwise, he might punish you with a hard pinch on your nipple and a rough slap on your ass cheeks.

Slowly but surely, then, he would reach your inner thighs and then your pussy. He would eat you out with his hand holding your thighs apart. He would you lick your pussy in a classy way, not like a vulgar starving. He would be fond of all your moaning and incoherent mumbling as you can't handle how good it feels. "You won't cum until I say so." While circling your clit with his thumb, teasing you, drinking your juice. Your shivering and tremblings are both entertaining and satisfying. Crocodile rarely goes down on someone, but when he does… oh, it's quite mesmerizing.

"Stay still" if you start to squirm because of how good it feels.

And, once you're finally reduced to a whining mess, he would use his hook to grab one of your thighs, pushing them apart, spreading your legs wide enough to fit in between. "Spread your legs for me." He would put a pillow under your back while manhandling you. And then, again, he would use his hook to slightly raise your upper body, until your pussy is lined with his cock.

"Can you take it?"

He would enter you in one go as soon as you nodded. Not in a forceful way, but he doesn't see the point of taking a lot of breaks. Once his cock is buried deep inside you, he will soothe your trembling thighs by running his hand along your lower-stomach, feeling the bulge created by his cock. "Good girl. You're taking me so well." He would likely hold your legs tightly, trying to fight his own desire to fuck you roughly.

He's a patient man, so he'll wait until you're ready for him to start thrusting.

So deep and slow at the same time while he stretches you further, his cock throbbing and twitching. Not a grunter, but a pretty deep breath as you tighten around him. For this occasion, he will spare you from his usual roughness. But next time… you better be ready.

Katakuri

CW : The reader is smaller than him, but there's not a BIG size difference, food play, unprotected sex

"I know, love." Yes, he would speak before you even have time to express your fears. Blame it on his haki. Katakuri has a lot of sisters, so he would be well-aware of those kinds of thoughts. If you're nervous, he would take some time to ask why, making sure to fully understand the situation.

"I'll take care of you, everything will be alright." Despite his lack of words, you have faith in him. He's aware of the future, so if he says it's going to be fine, you can trust him and it's already really soothing.

The Sweet Commander is a gentleman and he's aware of size. He would never just slam into you, especially not if you're already afraid. Before even thinking of reaching for your pussy, he would start with a lot of soft kisses all along your neck, and then on your breasts, sucking on your nipples, pinching them nicely. He just loves your breasts. They feel soft under his palms. He could spend hours worshipping your chest. As you slowly arch your back, moaning softly, and relaxing under his touch, he would continue to kiss your stomach, honoring every inch of your body.

You're so beautiful. Despite his quietness, his eyes would be brimming with pride. Being intimate with such a beautiful woman like you fills him with pride. "You're doing great."

His voice would always be calm and deep, as usual. The control he has over himself is quite mesmerizing.

And well, Katakuri probably has a food play kink, so he would love to devour your body covered in cream. So intoxicating. Your body tastes amazing. The taste of sugar is also amazing. Both? Total heaven.

He would then sink his head between your thighs, eating you out like your pussy was one of his dearest donuts. He'd like nothing more than to please you, so feel free to guide him. Katakuri being both smart and observant, he would quickly learn all of your sweet spots, turning you into a whiny moan, begging for more.

If you don't tell him to stop, he could eat you out for hours. He can't help it; it feels so good and you taste so good. He would drink your juice, circling your clit with his thumb and wouldn't stop until you cum against his lips.

"So good."

He would take advantage of your wetness and dizzy mind from your orgasm to slowly push one thick and long finger inside you. It's so tight and warm that he would struggle to keep his calm composure. Especially because his haki showed him some really nice pictures of what's going to happen.

As long as you need him to continue, Katakuri would honestly just pamper you with kisses and caresses. He knows how big he's, so you have to tell him when you're ready to take him.

Katakuri would keep your thighs apart with an impatient hand, exposing your wet folds to his eyes. He would look hungrily. His cock twitching crazily in impatience, leaking in anticipation. "You're ready?"

He already knows the answer, but Katakuri is a gentleman and cares a lot about consent. It doesn't matter if his observation haki shows him everything in advance.

Katakuri would intertwine his fingers with yours before slowly easing his cock into you in one go. A slow, but steady one. And as he fills you up to the brim, he would lose his composure and sigh in relief. Your pussy feels like heaven around his cock. It's a perfect blend of tightness, warmth, heat, and wetness. "Y/N, you feel amazing."

He would adjust his pace to what you're capable of. If you need him to slow down, he will. And he would be more than happy to comply if you asked him to be rougher. He is here to satisfy you. And you will be satisfied. Reduced to a shivering, moaning mess. The way his fat cock slowly slides in and out and hits all your sweet spots is just too good. It's such a delight to see the big, stoic Katakuri looking his composure because of your body…

King

CW : The reader is smaller than him, but there's not a BIG size difference, kind of blindfold kink I guess (?), slight spanking, unprotected sex

Even with you, King doesn't like to show his face. He struggles with intimacy. Your confession would make him feel embarrassed. What is he supposed to do? He was about to fuck you without any further thought, but now he needs to take more consideration.

He would slap your thigh with a sigh. "Turn around."

While slowly lying on your stomach and complying, he would slowly remove his heavy mask, running a hand through his beautiful white hair. But you don't have the right to watch. The only thing you're allowed to do is imagine. You've already seen his face. So you close your eyes and imagine his beautiful, almost mesmerizing beauty in your mind: brown skin, white hair, and an expression that is both cold and determined.

He would make you feel. Feel his mouth licking and kissing your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Wet kisses. His hair would softly caress your skin as he devoured the back of your neck, his big hands roaming along your waist to keep you steady. "Stay still" he would always speak with his lips near your ear, enjoying all of your shivering.

And suddenly, he would yank your panties or just push them asides, eating you out from behind, spreading your thighs. "Get on your all fours," he would command, just to have a better view of your glistening folds, before sinking back between your legs. He would keep your cheeks spread and lap at your pussy, intoxicated by your moans, your taste, smell, and how you feel against his lips. You're arched for him, exposed, so beautiful.

Even if he eats you out, he would love to spank your ass every time you squirm, forcing you to stay still. "Don't move and let me eat you out." He can sense that you're tense. And he doesn't understand why because usually, he can slide into you with ease. But he would take his time, fingering you, rubbing your clit, turning you into an almost crying, whimpering mess.

He would obligingly ignore his cock, twitching and throbbing in anticipation, taking his time to work on your tightness, stroking your back. "Shh, it's alright, we'll take our time."

He would love to watch how beautiful you are, with your ass up and chest against the mattress, and your head buried in a pillow. What a stunning sight. The way your pussy is messing up on the bedsheets is quite stunning.

He would use the fact you're unable to see him to his advantage, teasing you, running his fingers along your slit, then rubbing his cockhead, mixing his pre-cum with your wetness. "Please…"

Please keep begging, it's a lullaby to his ears.

And finally, he would grab your hips firmly, filling you up to the hilt in one go, hitting your cervix. He would fight against his own desire to destroy you by digging into your soft flesh with his fingers. His strong grip would leave bruises on your skin tomorrow.

With his huge cock nestled deep inside you, almost splitting you in half, he would let out a shaky breath. So good. So intoxicating. As you lie down, at his mercy, the sight of his cock slowly thrusting in and out of your tight hole, all stretched out around his thickness... it's too much to handle. As he plows into you from behind, he would moan. His member, all glistening and shining, covered in your wetness, the way your ass is swallowing him...

He just can't.

His hands would be glued to your ass cheeks all the time. "You keep sucking me in, it won't let me go."

He would try his best to stay nice. Stretching you out slowly. Even with slow strokes, his size is so overwhelming that it drives you crazy. Holding onto the bedsheets, closing your eyes, all you're allowed to do is imagine his jaw tightly clenched and his muscular body looming over you.

"Does it feel good, Y/N?"

The instant you say yes and he feels you loose around his thickness, he will smash into you roughly, grunting loudly, slapping your ass, intoxicated by your you. And you alone.

Corazon

CW : Body worship, praises, face sitting, protected sex, wholesome, soft sex

To end on a sweet note, the lovely Rosinante.

Let's assume it's your first time ending up in the same bed. Rosinante is always kind to you, and you know he won't do anything to hurt you. But still, if you explain to him you're nervous because he's big and also because you're always a bit stressed when it comes to sex… then, Rosinante would just be even more sweet.

"Sweetie, we'll take it slow. You trust me?"

He would be both careful and nervous due to his goofiness. What if he just falls on you? What if he crushes you with his weight? What if... oh, no, he's thinking too much again, his hands twitching on your body.

"It's okay Rosi, I trust you."

As you ease him down, he would kiss every nook and cranny of your body: neck, collarbone, breasts, stomach, belly button,... leaving red lipstick streaks all over.

His large, heavy, and yet kind hands would hungrily roam your figure, your shoulders, learning each of your curves, scars, and every single part that makes you, you. He would make you love everything you hate about yourself, making you feel safe and loved.

His hands would be soft and heavenly as he fondled your breasts, mesmerized by how warm and soft they felt against his big palms. Well, he's still goofy, so he might accidentally pinch you or scratch your nipple, apologizing again and again with wet puppy eyes.

And slowly, his hands and mouth would continue to explore your skin, kissing your lower stomach, and slowly reaching for your damping wet panties. "So wet for me."

He's genuinely amazed. Rosinante would be in awe: does he attract you so much? He just wants to smile warmly at you.

He would accidentally rip your panties apart, and then apologizes again. Please, just laugh or reassure him. After all, his goofiness is adorable.

He would be incredibly sweet if you're a bit nervous about exposing yourself fully to him. "Sweetie, I swear you're mesmerizing. So perfect and beautiful, I want to love every inch of your skin". While slowly running his hands along your inner thighs. "It's alright, sweetie. Just open your legs for me. Can you do this for me?"

If you're still nervous, then Rosinante would lie down and allow you to sit on his face with your wet pussy pressed against his lips. Rosinante would love to eat you out while rubbing his hands along your back, ass, and thighs. Soft kisses on your clit, hungry tongue drinking your juice while it flows down on his chin.

He would gently massage your bottom while slowly sucking on your clit and swirling his tongue. Rosinante would just love to have your thighs squeezing his cheeks. Move, all you want against his tongue, all he wants is to satisfy you and soothe all of your worries. His focus will only be on you, regardless of how hard his cock is.

He would slowly slide a thick finger inside you, curling it nicely to hit that sweet spot, making sure you're ready and aware of what's happening. The way you moan his name and use his mouth as you please is mesmerizing.

With two fingers gently stretching out, Rosinante would continue to worship your body with his hands and tongue. He's probably trying to hide his coughs because he's suffocating with his face stuck between your thighs. But who cares. The way you taste is like heaven.

If you want to cum, he would allow you to cum against his lips. If you want to stop before reaching ecstasy, that's okay too.

"I'm ready for you, Rosi."

Totally flushed and nervous, Rosi would let you ride him. He's too stressed by his goofiness, so it's better if you take the lead. And at least, you can control the rhythm and depth.

Rosinante would definitely use a condom. But, he would struggle to open the packaging and then roll the protection over his length due to his nervousness, excitement, and goofiness. His big, shaking hands would likely cause him to split one or two condoms. Please, help this poor boy.

The shows continue with the lube. It's likely that he would let the bottle to fall, spilling all of the liquid onto both your belly and his hands. "I'm so sorry, sweetie!" And he would stupidly try to steal some lube from your stomach to smear it over his length. You can't help but laugh warmly, caressing his hair. "It's okay Rosi, relax."

His heart melts as you straddle him, his length twitching and leaking wildly. He's big, both in length and girth, and he's aware of it. He would allow you to take all of your time to prepare yourself. The way he looks at you tells how much he cares about you and how honored he feels to have you by his side.

"Whenever you want, Y/N" with his deep, soothing and soft voice.

As he feels your tight entrance against his cockhead, he would bite his lips, grabbing the bedsheets tightly. Because he would never dare hold you roughly and leave bruises on your body. When he sees that you're still a bit nervous, he would sit up while you're still straddling him. He would slowly raise your hips before easing his cock inside you. Pushing gently, each inch, slowly yet steadily. "Shh, it's okay, I've got you, you're taking me so well. You're so perfect for me."

He would hold you tightly as you sit down on his lap, your breasts pressed against his chest. "It's okay sweetie, you're doing great, it's okay, almost there, just a little more, you feel so good around me." With his hands squeezing your hips to keep you still.

His entire body would be shaking. The sensations are overwhelming for both of you. You're so tight, so wet, and his huge cock is stretching you so nicely, throbbing inside you.

He would soothe your back gently as he finally penetrates you fully, his large size stretching you out even further. "There it's over. Look at you, taking all of my cock so well. You're such a brave girl. "

He would slowly guide your hips up and down, unable to handle how good it feels. " I've got you, let me take care of you."

A lot of kisses, soft, heavenly touches, his breath deep against your breath as he continues to slide gently yet firmly inside you. He would praise you all the time, worshiping your body. A bit goofy from time to time, loweering you to roughly down his cock, scratching you or biting your lips instead of kissing you softly.

But a really, really sweet moment, and a lot of cuddles during the aftercare.

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