#and i feel very normal about how his belly looks

[stardustedseas]

anyways

jayce x dog hybrid reader

nsfw +18

cw: human x hybrid, dub con (reader is in heat and doesn't fully understand what's going on, jayce is hesitate to engage because he knows this but they do both want eachother), implied 3some at the end, barely edited- i mostly just copy pasted my rambled from my dms to here

viktor giving jayce a key to his apt so he can feed and walk you when vik cant, youre a little unsure about this new big man coming into your home but viktor likes him, he always brings treats and his big warm hands always give the best belly rubs too so he must be okay :) viktor ends up spending more and more time at the lab working on a big breakthrough in hextech and hasnt been able to get home to you as often but doesn't want you at the lab much because it can be very dangerous, so hes been sending jayce to take care of you more since its easier for him to run over and back rq

(rubbing hands together like an evil fly) while you do miss your owner and you dont fully understand why he cant come home as much right now, you enjoy when jayce visits, hes so kind and fun! he isnt as afraid to rough house play with you he and always indulges you with treat, over all, things have been pretty okay. that is untill you start to feel weird and pent up, all of your clothes feel bad agaisnt your skin and you cant stand to have them on, taking to just wander around naked. you also feel more emotional and the hours of viktor being away turn from sucky but tollerable to you sobbing every morning when he leaves and almost tearing the apt up in a panic if he doest come home at night. you also dont know why but your tummy always feels weird and like your skin is on fire too.

still, you dont want to tell your owner, he always seems so stressed and tired :( you dont want him to get more stressed because of you :( so you do your best to act normal when hes home or jayce is there. this works for about a week before either of them notice too. it's when jayce comes over to give you lunch and your afternoon walk that he can tell something is wrong, usually you come bounding up to the door all excited and whine until he gives you belly rubs and a new treat he brings for you to try but now you're no where to be seen. you dont even come when he calls for you, he ofc gets worried and goes looking, it really isnt like you to not listen or greet him. he finds you all bundled up on viktor bed, wrapped in his blanket with what looks like his entire closet surrounding you. he can't really tell whats going on but he can hear you whimpering and see a lump under the covers wriggling around.

he calls out to you again but you just freeze, when he tries to pull the blanket back you just pull it tighter around yourself and whine for him to go away. something is very obviously wrong so he sits on the edge of the bed and lightly pets you over the covers, he gets even more worried at the strangled, almost hurt sound you let out so he decides that if youre injured, he cant just wait until you come out on your own, so he froces the blanket off you. instead of a bunch of blood like he was worried hed find, its you butt naked, curled around a pillow with your arms clinging to one end and the other squished between your thighs. he would have laughed at how your hair and fur was sticking up all over the place but the tears on your cheeks and the amount of sweat covering your shakey body were far more concerning.

before he can ask you whats wrong or even really process what hes seeing, you are jumping up to crawl into his lap and cling to him instead, sobbing about how you feel so weird and hot and your privates ache so bad and you miss viktor so much. you had started to unconsciously grind against the leg you were stradling, soaking his probably very expensive pants, but had just cried harder when he gently pried you off, so he agreed to give you your beloved belly rubs if you agreed to lay back down. he was struggling to think straight with the way you were desperately humping him and crying into his neck but this didnt help at all, seeing you layed out bare and needy infront of him, moaning so obscenely just from him petting your soft belly, really backfired on him lmfao its even worse when you start bucking your hips up and wiggling around (he can more clearly see the wet sheen of slick coating your mound and inside of your thighs) and try to push his hand lower, telling him it hurts and you want him to pet you down there.

you just know that those big strong hands could make you feel better :( it feels so good when he pets your head or tummy, the rough callouses contrasting how gently he touches you. jayce is a very strong willed man who does not give in easily, his morals always holding fast, but he is also n o t immune to the way your cute fluffy ears lay flat and you look up at him with the biggest, most pathetic puppy dog eyes hes ever seen in his life while begging for him to please not go, please dont leave you alone and in pain. god he really should go call viktor, tell him whats going on and absolutely not give in to your pleading- youre in heat for fucks sake and desperate and not thinking clearly and youre not even his dog hes just helping out his bestie and- whatever resolve he had went out the window when you were able to yank his hand down between your thighs and sloppily push it against you, desperately moving his hand as if trying to make him pet you.

he cant help but give in, he swears he will just get you off once then call viktor, just so you arent in as much pain. hes supposed to be taking care of you after all, what kind of friend would he be if he left you to suffer... unfortunately for his conscious, that does not work out because the second he sinks one of his thick fingers into your poor puppy cunt and sees(and Feels) the way you almost instantly cum with the prettiest moan of his name, he had absolutely no chance of being able to leave now. not when hes felt how tight and warm and wet you are. god he bets you taste as good as you look too,,,,

anyways like i said im bad at the actual smut part but he ends up fingering and eating you out a couple times before he is once again worn down even more by the way you roll onto your stomach and arch your hips up, burring your nose into one of viktors dirty shirts. youre not fully sure what youre begging for but all you know is hes making you feel so so good and being in this position just feels right, like this is all you were made for. by this point poor jayce is so turned on he couldn't possibly have left now so he once again gives in and kneels behind you, leaning over so his broad chest is layed across your back, pressing your almost limp body down more into the matress while he reaches around for your still throbbing pussy. he swears he was just gonna get you off on his fingers one more time in a position that felt more natural for you, THEN he was gonna call viktor,,,,,, but its not even five minutes later before he is carefully pushing the fat tip of his cock in, trying not to hurt you. he may not be able to knot or breed you like you need, but hopefully his cum filling you up can help :3

viktor gets worried after jayce is gone longer than usual and ends up going home as well, hes already further ahead in his experiment than expected so he can take an early break, he has been away from his beloved pet an awful lot and he misses you so much :( the last thing he was expecting to see when he got back was jayce fucking his puppy into his bed surrounded by all his clothes lmfao cough not that hes too upset tho, just disappointed he missed out on half the fun before showing up. its okay tho, you are far from satiated and as amazing as jayce feels, you still miss your masters cock :3

~~~~~~~~~~~~☆

im so sorry

[thedreadvampy]

Sorry about your loss :( when youre feeling up to it, I'd love to hear some memories about Otis.

well as often happens in these situations one thing I'm finding is I didn't take enough pictures of him while I had the chance.

Otis, as my friend said in some distress when I told them last week that he was sick, was The People's Boy. Everybody loved him and he loved people, he was enthusiastically ready to meet strangers and greet friends. He was an exceptionally sweet and chill man and he actively enjoyed handling, so he converted several people who weren't sure of snakes at all into huge Otis fans.

He was an incredibly beautiful boy - he was very big and muscular before he got sick, and he had creamy white and dark brown patterning that made him look like tempered chocolate. His belly was this lovely graphic checkerboard and he had a face that always made me think of a rabbit's face - big brown eyes and a pinkish nose and a little moustache pattern that gave him :3 face.

He liked to climb all over you, and he particularly liked to climb long hair. he would reach himself out so far his whole body was trembling. but he wasn't ever really trying to get away, he was just enjoying exploring - the corn snake we had until 2020 was always gearing up for a dash, but Otis was a pootler, he liked to wander around and smell things.

we got Otis in 2021 from the SSPCA and he was about 3 then. We think they'd misjudged his food requirements cause they told us he had one mouse a week, but that he'd scarf up any leftovers the other snakes didn't eat. and when he moved in with us he fell on food immediately (which was nice cause we'd just lost a baby corn snake who never learned how to eat at all) but then he'd stay activated and looking for more food instead of settling in to digest. also he did this.

literally tried to eat both me and Sam multiple times which was no fun for anyone involved. lots of blood and prising off of jaws with a credit card. anyway then we upped him to two large mice a week and he never showed the slightest signs of aggression or biting ever again. he was literally just starving.

he also grew literally another foot once he was getting enough food, which came as a bit of a surprise cause at 3 we figured he was mostly done growing, but he grew so much we had to get him a bigger viv because he was doing frustrated circles around the old one.

we took him to the vet like a few months or so into having him, because he stopped eating over the winter, which we didn't yet know was normal for him, and because he had a scar on his head when we got him which seemed to be spreading (in retrospect, probably just because he was growing so much that damaged skin was splitting).

First off, the vet loved him. Whenever Otis had to go to the vets, all the nurses would see him through the window and come in to fuss over him.

On that early visit, the vet used the phrase "startlingly healthy" - he was on the biggest end of male kingsnakes and he was basically pure muscle. We called him our long himbo because he was both exceptionally fit, super sweet-natured, and kinda dumb.

I remember one time we gave him a mouse, he leapt on it instantly then dropped it, and he looked back at us in confusion with his tongue flickering like "mOuSe? sMeLl MoUsE? wHeRe MoUsE?????" and we were like buddy. It's on your butt. I can see it. It's draped over you.

he loved to burrow and he loved to swim. Not so much recently, because he was prescribed daily baths to help with his gut issues and he came to find it quite stressful, but in the past if we put him in a bath he'd settle in happily and swim laps around the box. he spent a good chunk of his life buried in between the paper layers in his viv (occasionally terrifying, he was good at hiding) but he refused to stay in pockets, because when he was out and about he wanted to keep an eye on everything.

he was so chill. He didn't mind being handled or kissed on his back, and he'd just do little bleps right on your face. He seemed almost impossible to scare, he'd just wander straight up to things. He did like an explore but he was also totally happy to sit in your lap or around your neck while you got on with things, and he'd often refuse to get back in his viv after. He really really liked people, and he liked us.

I'm really struggling at the moment because for years now when I'm sad and exhausted and out of energy I'd take him out and hold him in my lap and he'd help me feel more safe and present. And I would really like to be doing that again and I can't. I miss his weight and warmth and smoothness and the way he smelled and I miss talking to him. He was the goodest boy.

[dreamerdrop]

Could you tell us more about the WIP called Zebras?

Zebras is an episode related little what if based on If Wishes Were Horses, wherein Julian falls asleep reading medical notes about Bajoran war orphans and finds himself dreaming about his own childhood, and thus wakes up to a small imaginary version of himself pre-augmentation.

I need to rewrite the bulk of it, but here’s a snippet from the ending without any further context.

Julian doesn't really want to be around people, but he does want to drink until he blacks out, so he finds himself sitting in a corner at Quarks, tossing back synthehol like his life depends on it, when Jadzia approaches him, looking uncomfortable.

“You know... What I meant was, does this mean you have a secret yearning to be a father,” Jadzia says softly, almost whispering so that nobody else will hear. “I was… trying to joke about you maybe having a pregnancy fetish or something, and… maybe that was why you liked the idea that I already had a worm in my belly…?” she sits across from him, her smile is very contrite.

Julian grimaces. Of course, that had been what she was trying to joke about... Leave it to Jadzia to phrase it in the most awkward way possible, and for Julian to interpret it as incorrectly as imaginable.

They really did make quite a pair.

“So… who was he?” she asks, and Julian had so very much been dreading when that question would finally come up. His throat feels dry.

“He was… a friend. I knew him a long time ago…” he finds himself staring into the middle distance, several memories playing through his mind.

“What happened?”

Julian breathes slowly, trying not to get lost in the flood of thoughts and emotions that he feels like he might as well be drowning in.

“He died. He was... He was sick. His parents, they… it was difficult for them. Looking after him, because he was… they… they wanted to help him, to fix him, to make him…” Julian chokes on the words, crying. His face heats with shame.

“He was stupid. He was stupid, and annoying, and nobody liked him, and his parents…” he doesn't mean the words at all. He’s not sure where they’re coming from, but he can’t seem to stop them. Jadzia is looking at him in almost horror.

“They took him away to fix him, but… he didn't come back. I think... I think his parents were happier without him,” he says quietly. Jadzia shakes her head, opening her mouth to protest.

“They were. They had another child. I heard… I heard them telling their new child how much better he was. How much smarter, and easier to handle he was. They… I… They didn’t miss him at all…”

Jadzia isn’t stupid. Julian knows she can tell there’s more to this than he’s willing to admit. Julian knows he’s giving away too much. He knows he’ll regret this one day. Right now, the image of watching Jules die all over again is fresh in his mind.

“Sometimes, I think… I might be the only one who misses him at all.”

Jadzia reaches a hand out and squeezes his shoulder. She lifts her own glass and clinks it against Julian’s.

“We can miss him together, at least for tonight,” she says.

The burn of synthehol doesn’t warm him as much as the genuine kindness in Jadzia’s eyes, nor does it sting as much as the still-present pity.

He supposes that one day, she’ll look at him normally again, but just for tonight… he’s grateful that someone else can feel sorry for Jules. He’s glad he won’t be the only one to miss him anymore.

END.

I’m not quite sure what to do with the rest of it in the lead up to that yet though, since I’ve been puzzling over the character voices for a while for this… I think I’ve got Julian being too much of a jerk and being sort of too… idk, softboy-ish? Rather than like… himself. And I think it makes zero sense for me not to have Sisko and Miles more involved as well, since y’know, they’re both parents and here is Julian with a tiny kid.

Anyway, it’s been a WIP since maybe November last year and I come back to it occasionally and hopefully one day I will finish it. Hopefully. Maybe. We’ll see!

[grahamdollton]

[esote-rika]

More of you to worship | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Category: fluff, mild angst

Summary: Spencer Reid has insecurities about his changing body, and you assure him you love him regardless.

Content: body insecurity, established relationship, one mention of New Year

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Quick little oneshot to end the year! You can thank @reidgif for this one because this gif rekindled my hyperfixation on his tummy. And then I saw a clip of Aisha (Tara’s actress) saying MGG weighs 11 pounds and has the metabolism of a rabbit on speed (lmfao) anyway, I took that and ran with it and now here we are. As someone who struggles with dysmorphia, I did my very best to be as sensitive with this as possible. Last fix of the year, I hope you enjoy it!

Spencer had begun to notice it a few weeks ago. At first, he had foolishly thought that there was simply something wrong with the shirt he had worn. Tactile sensitivity had always been something he dealt with, and this was no different. There had been a certain peculiarity in the fit of his shirt that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Days continued, and it became a persistent bother, impeding his movement when he aimed, and inhibiting his general comfort.

It wasn’t until today, sitting in the bed—one he shared with you—that he finally had the time to inspect what was going on. The two of you had just gotten home from Rossi, who had graciously hosted a New Year’s dinner at his mansion. Spencer had admittedly eaten more than his fill, and that’s when he realized—it showed.

At once, the problem appeared. He was gaining weight. His shirts were bothering him because they were growing too tight, digging into places where they had previously been loose. The realization made him pause, as he stared down at himself.

Sitting on the bed, his stomach had gathered into a bulge, straining against the cloth. It was a new sight, not necessarily unwelcomed, but it seemed to send his mind reeling (to be fair, a lot sent his mind reeling nowadays, he was running on fumes, his only reprieve being you.)

He had never been muscular, had never found the need to be muscular. The team was nearly faultless because everyone filled a role, and they executed that well. He was, has always been, the genius, the expert on everything, as Hotch had called him once. Being the genius of the BAU meant that he had value. Relevance. It brought him great deal of pride, being able to contribute and pick up on patterns and little details that the majority of the team might miss.

It made him feel like he mattered. Needed.

So what if he couldn’t tackle a man down? They used to have Derek and Hotch for that, and now that role was being fulfilled by Luke and Matt, both of whom were utter specimens of the male physique.

But his time in prison had proven to him that he couldn’t rely on just his brains. Not when he had three burly inmates looking for trouble, looking for someone easy. It pained him that someone easy meant someone that looked like him. Tall, gangly, defenseless.

He took another breath and frowned as the fabric around his stomach grew tighter, taut at having to contain this belly that had formed over the course of the evening. A food baby, you liked to call it, because your own tummy was bonded to several factors as well—hormones, food, water intake—that made it fluctuate frequently, normally.

Normal. He tried to remind himself that this was normal, gaining weight was normal, but then again, how could someone tell what was normal when their—his—whole life, he had little experience with the word? Growing up a genius and taking care of an ailing mother skewed whatever sense of normalcy he could have developed.

Besides, his normal meant lanky, thin. His body, the way it was framed and built, had always been long and erring on the side of delicate. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to bulk up, it was that his muscles were lean; that was simply how his anatomy worked. It would take a lot more effort to gain more muscle, effort that he, admittedly, didn’t want to exert. It wasn’t his role.

And now, he looked down at his stomach with a crease on his brow, mind whirring with explanations. Weight fluctuations are normal, and they were okay, and he was nearing forty, anyway, of course his metabolism was beginning to slow down, human adults’ bodily functions tend to do that, it was scientific and —

“Honey?”

He looked up, and there you were, your loveliness framed by the plain doorway. Somehow, you made it seem more magical, less boring, as though your very presence just made everything better. He smiled, holding out a hand for you, forcing the wave of insecurity down his throat, down his chest, trying to bury it deep in the recesses of his body.

You walked closer, and the thoughts punched through his attempts to silence them—you wouldn’t find him attractive anymore.

Something must have shifted on his face, a sliver of that anxiety creating fresh lines between his brows, because you paused. A hand ran across your cheek, and he felt the weight of your concern in the action.

“What’s wrong, Spence?”

He drew you closer, pulled you onto his lap. He couldn’t lie to you, not out of his lack of skill, but due to your incessant ability to somehow sniff out the truth from him, one way or another.

“I think I’m outgrowing my shirts.” he said, softening the words with a chuckle. He was ashamed to admit that it was affecting him more than he anticipated; maybe humor would lessen its significance.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be going through puberty?” you asked, matching the teasing tone of his voice. The difference was glaring though; his voice was awfully strained, and yours was lighter, more at ease.

Still, he laughed, buried his face at the nape of your neck. “They’re getting tight around my stomach.”

At that, you pulled back. He swallowed the whine that threatened to leave his lips; he was already being so pathetic over a little pudge, he was reaching max capacity. With bated breath, he watched as your gaze ran over him, eyes flickering with recognition when they landed on his torso.

“Oh they are,” You replied, hands going up to his shoulders, tugging at the fabric there, “Here too. Huh, I guess we’ll have to go shopping then.”

He looked, patiently waited for more.

“What?” you asked, eyes crinkling oh so prettily at the corners that he couldn’t help but press a kiss over them.

“That’s it?” he murmured, disbelief coloring his voice. He had anticipated more of a reaction, maybe a suggestion of ‘oh maybe you should go to the gym’. But you took it with such stride that he was a little confused.

“Yeah, that’s it.” you laughed, brought a palm down to his stomach, that one place that’s causing him to basically break down, “Should there be more?”

He shrugged.

Perched on his lap, you frowned as you watched emotions flicker through his eyes. “Spence,” You murmured, kissing his temple, “Talk to me.”

“I just don't want you to think I'm unattractive anymore.” The words felt bitter in his tongue; it was a relief to release them, get them out of his system. “I was never - you know - sexy before, and now I'm gaining weight.”

“Spence,” You interrupted him gently. It wasn't something you did often; his rambles were one of the things you loved about him after all, but it pained you to hear him get so insecure about something so insignificant as his weight, especially since his body wasn't even the thing that made him attractive to you in the first place, “Belly pudge or scrawny, I think you're hot.”

His eyes softened, looking so impossibly hopeful that you couldn't stop the urge to lean in and kiss him. “Seriously,” You murmured, “It doesn't matter to me. You're handsome, but you're also so intelligent and passionate and sensitive, and those are so much more important than how you look.”

He sagged with relief, arms tightening around you. “Yeah?” He asked as he buried his face in your hair.

“Yeah, honey. I'm not with you because of your looks,” You replied, then with a little laugh, you added, “Although, they certainly are an added bonus.”

His shoulders shook as he chuckled, and you can feel his lips giving you tiny kisses at the crown of your head.

“Besides,” You continued, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, “The way I see it, there's physically more of you now - more of you to hug, and to love, more of you to worship.”

He was silent, but his grip on you never faltered, breath fanning gently over your hair. “More of me to love.” He whispered, “You're right, that's - that's one way to look at it.”

“Mhmm,” You nodded, “But you really do need to go shopping, can't have you ripping your shirts while you're out on a case. You wouldn't want your team to think you're doing an impromptu strip tease.”

He bursted out laughing, and exhilaration filled your chest. You always took pride in making him laugh, and this was no exception.

“God, I love you.” He said, pulling back and resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you too.” You smiled, then added, “Besides, I think the pudge is cute. You're on your way to a dad bod.”

He laughed again, and if you could hear that sound on loop forever, then you would be in heaven

[gremlingottoosilly]

What lies within (Tentacle!Monster!Konig x fem!Reader)

It's mating season for monster hybrids. Unfortunately for you, the colonel didn't have time to dump his eggs everywhere. TW and tags: Non-con, size difference, oviposition, monster hybrids, forced breeding, belly bulging, yandere Konig, possessive Konig, tentacles, double penetration. Word count: 3278

The brave new world of opportunities for monsters.

The illustrious life for those who are not afraid of being a hunter in the billion flocks of weak, stupid prey. 

There are endless possibilities for the ones who decide to serve in the various armed forces specifically tailored to monsters. 

And loads of other bullshit that König had to endure every day on the briefs. Propaganda, advertisement, and weak attempts to make a new generation of monster hybrids abandon their old ways and join either army or contracting forces, making them glorified mercenaries. Jaided and disillusioned, the colonel long abandoned the thoughts that service can be fun, that it can bring him something other than money and occasional bullets in various places. 

“Most inclusive workplaces for monsters,” his ass. They were fed bullshit on top of other bullshit, and he is already tired of war – but there isn’t much he can do besides it. The payment is nice, he gets to eat his enemies and tears through entire units of squishy, weak humans who make perfect snacks from their useless fucking bodies. 

— So. Abandoned by your team, ja? 

Unfortunately for him, sometimes war operations meant that he was not supposed to eat prisoners – he was supposed to take them, hoard them into rounds, and send them for either ransom or whatever higher-ups wanted to do with them. Sometimes, it’s torture for information, sometimes, it’s attempts to bring them to their side if they are worth it. 

Sometimes, he just looked in the eyes of a soft, squishy little prey and just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. 

Well…” sometimes” is a very big word. He had never once thought about keeping the POW for himself before he met this stupidly beautiful, soft nurse with a perfect face, nice pair of legs in that ugly baggy uniform, and the most beautiful scent in the entire…

He never thought of keeping the prisoner for himself before he met you. 

It was supposed to be an easy mission for you – he can see it from your lack of normal armor. Either you had no idea that KorTac had their own plans for whatever you wanted to do here, or your contractor is extremely cheap. He likes either way – you smell like a human, and he likes dumb humans who would make perfect victims. You smell and look weak, trembling, perfect fucking pray for someone like him. König didn’t feel the need to transform for this battle. Your team ran away like a bunch of bunnies before he ever fired his first shot, but he could still feel his tentacles slowly stir under his hood. He can feel his body transforming without the need to – and he feels the pressure in his lower stomach. 

When was the last time he was able to put his eggs somewhere other that cold, unforgiving air? 

Even the bagginess of your uniform doesn’t obscure him from looking at the sway of your hips, at the perfect surface of your tummy, and feeling the smell of your ripe, fertile body. Having a strong sense of smell always came like a curse in the team of monsters where showering after a mission isn’t something that is done by many, buy König can appreciate his nose now – he can smell how perfect you are for breeding. How scared, too. 

Poor thing, probably terrified of his. König knows how he looks, even in his human form – tall, broad, bigger than any man you saw before, so much more muscular that even with your military training as a combat nurse, he could still break your spine with one hand. His size is something that made it impossible to find a partner normal ways – monsters are naturally too dominant to ever submit to him, and humans are simply too scared to deal with someone like him. He isn’t surprised, no – if anything, he understands completely. 

You sob, your voice is melting with incomprehensible pleas and little whines. You are shaking under him – a poor, dumb girl who wasn’t aware that her best shot at surviving was to try and shoot his crotch off before he pulled a gun out of your hands. 

— Pl…please, you can’t…you can’t do this! It’s a crime, I was on medical duty, it’s…

König likes humans because they are dumb. Civilian humans are even cuter – run around, thinking their lives are protected by sets of laws and rules that, in fact, don’t apply to the strong – and you, in your full half-military half-civvie glory, are fucking perfect. You whine and sib, tears running down your face when he presses you under him. Your hand hits the hard rocks of the ground, and he shifts slightly, dragging you closer to a softer patch of grass. 

He laughs when you are trying to scramble from under him, your lower half is pinned by his weight – he is surprised you can still move. You move your pelvis, trying to get out – and he moans quietly when you start rubbing your crotch against his. You freeze, fear spreading on your face – god, he missed that feeling. When was the last time he got to actually breed someone? Or even just have sex with someone as cute? 

— You really think so, Schatzen? That rules will protect you? 

He moves his crotch against yours, making you sob a bit more. You’re sweet and compliant, and he just loves breaking soft things like you – it’s a desire to break, to destroy, to make you his. He knows that, technically, forcing himself on women from enemy lines really is a war crime. He also knows that if he’d managed to breed you with his eggs, monster laws would never allow you to separate after mating. 

Besides, it's not like he is going to let you go, so you could tell on him. König never believed in love at first sight, but you would be a perfect vessel for his eggs and his tentacles – what else would he need from a wife, right? 

— You’re pretty. 

He says plainly, his hand goes to rub your chest through the fabric of your uniform. You won’t need those ugly clothes anymore – he’d make sure to buy you something nice and frail that won’t make you too uncomfortable to carry his eggs. Maybe a soft, frail dress or some of those cute maternity clothes when your body starts to change. He can’t wait to see his breasts swelling with milk – even if his unfertilized eggs won’t need it, he certainly would. Even if you’re too weak to handle his load, he’d make sure to get you a nice, firm plug and keep you on his tentacles constantly. 

You start to sob even more when you understand what he is trying to do – when he rips your pants to reveal the softness of your cunt and the fragility of your [anties, you actually manage to push your legs against his dick a good few times. He is too aroused to notice – if anything, he likes how fiery you are, your little yells and loud screams for help. No one will come to aid you – he barked the orders for his soldiers to go and fuck around somewhere else while he was busy devouring his little prize. Colonel doesn’t like having an audience – if anything, he is saving your dignity right now. If anything, he is remarkably soft when he pushes one of his long, red tendrils down your body, massaging your pussy through your panties. 

You’re moist already when his tentacle finds a way to your labia. What a slutty nurse you are – getting off the enemy colonel breeding you in the middle of the battlefield. Your tears mean nothing when he is too busy massaging and pressing and playing with your sticky, puffy folds – poor girl, so deprived of attention that even the weird texture of his extensions only fuels your desire. 

So fragile, so perfect – and so, so wet that your adorable white panties are already become transparent, sticking to your soft pussy. When he takes you home, he’d make sure to forbid you from wearing any underwear at all – you would meet him dressing in nothing but his shirts, a hand on your tummy to support the weight of your eggs. Walls of your pussy clenching on the plug he’d make to insert in you every morning. 

— Don’t…please, don’t, n…

You whine ever so sweetly, trying to close your legs so he won’t be able to touch you. It’s futile, just one of his tendrils is ten times stronger than your hands. He gets through your closed legs, buried in the moistness of your sweet, perfect pussy. You taste heavenly – just one minute enough to make him hungrier than before. König’s mating season was often postponed due to constant adrenaline rushes and things he takes to enhance his battle abilities – but he can feel eggs pressing at the inside of his body now, preparing to be released in the sweet heat of your body. But he has to prepare you first. 

— Quiet now. It won’t hurt unless you want it to. 

His tendrils are coming to moisten your pussy even more – sweet numbness filling your body from the lower stomach and right to your head. Knowing that you must feel dizzy and just a tad bit dumb, König can’t wait but chuckle. He likes you empty-headed, adorable dumbness in your eyes. He knows that he doesn’t know you, that you might even already have a boyfriend on the civil side of your life – but he doesn’t care. His mind doesn’t easily fall for just anyone,  but if he saw a perfect vessel in you, there is no escape. At least he is nice enough to be gentle. 

You whimper slightly when he pushes the first tendril inside of you. Too impatient to use his hands or tongue to make you feel a bit more at ease – after all, you are still on the battlefield, even if your friends abandoned you to get picked up by KorTac. Too impatient to soothe you with his words, he uses one of his smaller, thinner tentacles to push your pussy walls, make you squeeze him and milk for all his worth. You are wet, but not enough to take him without crying. Hot and soft, the cold texture of his extensions contrasts with your body too much – you are shaking, he can feel slight vibrations at the soft walls of yours. 

Fitting him like a glove, too perfect to exist – he just wants to take you with him, to flip you on your tummy and push all of his tentacles inside. You’re tight and warm, you make him go crazy from desire. It’s weird how a strong and mighty colonel can be so charmed by just some enemy nurse, but when you whine slightly and try to adjust your body to fit more comfortably under him, he just knows that he has to take you. That, no matter how much you are crying and praying for him to stop, you want to be used by him. Perhaps, with certain training, you would want his eggs, too. 

Second tendril caught you by surprise. Just when you started to adjust to the weird, slimy feeling of something writhing inside of you, spreading your tight walls around it and clashing with the heat of your insides, a second, bigger one started to press on your clenched folds. You wanted to beg, to ask him to stop – you’re too tight for this, too small, you would never be able to take even just one of his tentacles, you were…

But his tendrils press easily, he accesses lube spreading between your legs. You are sobbing from the feeling, and he is laughing. His hand goes to rip the upper part of your clothing, revealing your midriff. Fingers pressing on your tummy, just to feel his tentacles inside – he laughs when the skin of your stomach is tensed up, revealing the outlines of his extension. God, he can’t wait to make your body swell from him. Even though the eggs are not bearing his children, he can imagine you and a bunch of little ones – you’d look much better like this than pretending to be a nurse. Honestly, what were you even trying to do on the battlefield? 

— Stay still, ja? 

— Too much! Please, n…no more…

— Poor thing. You’ll feel so much better after I add the third one. 

He knows that he is overstepping a bit, that your body isn’t used to taking something as big as his tentacles – but König also knows that his pre-cum makes you feel dizzy warm. Acting like a natural aphrodisiac, you won't be able to resist relaxing under him. The lubricant is enough to allow his other tentacle to force himself in your ass – he isn’t going to breed that hole yet, but it doesn't mean that he can’t use it. 

He groans loudly when your asshole clenches around him – he had to stretch you quite a bit, that sweet numbness of his precum isn’t making you relaxed enough to take him whole, but he is managing, one agonizing centimeter after another. At the point you’re out of breath, with your face all flushed, he already knows he fucking won – he knows that you, poor, fragile thing, isn’t going anywhere. He would say that he feels horrible about forcing you like this – but this is the start of a new, better life for you. Being the bride of a monster of his rank is a dream for any lowly human like you. Can go as far as to say you’re lucky he ever laid his eyes on you. 

— Stop, please…’s too much. 

— You feel good, Katzen. Relax, and you’ll be even better. 

— I don’t…please, just let me go, I…

— Is this your first time with a monster? 

— Yes. 

— Gut. Would break you in for me. 

He laughs at your whimpers, his hand goes to cradle your face in an almost soft expression. He gently presses his fingers across your skin, making you all nice and warm for him – he wants to kiss you all over, but the only thing he can do in his more monstrous form is to press one of his shorter tentacles against your lips, mocking the way normal people kiss. You sob, but he presses the tip on your mouth, passing it through your teeth – you would feel better after ingesting his pre-cum, can even clench around him so more, chasing your own pleasure. 

König wants you to feel good, so he presses his hand against your face, allowing you to tremble and cry as much as you want. He wants to be nice to you, so his other hand presses on your clit, finding the tense bud and breaking the nothingness between your legs. You tremble even more when he starts to spread your folds around his fingers, both of his tentacles working to milk your holes and spread you as much as possible. 

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear when both of the tendrils working on your pussy suddenly change their direction – they start to spread your walls instead of just fucking it. You feel exposed and vulnerable, he can see the pink flesh and glossiness of your cunt. It’s embarrassing for you, and he knows it – but god, you’re too fucking perfect to pass. 

You don’t even manage to ask him what he is doing when you feel something much larger pressing against your pussy. The biggest of his tentacles – almost as thick as an arm, pushing inside of you. He had a purpose, a desire to do something with you that you could never understand – silly humans know nothing about his biological need to push his eggs somewhere, of course, but you’re just fucking perfect. Too perfect to pass on this opportunity. 

You plead and cry when he presses further, a little bump on your tummy is obvious now, with each centimeter of his tendril pushing. When he finally bottoms inside of you, pressing directly against your cervix, you are too fucked out to even think. 

It’s painful, you think. Three thick tentacles roam inside your pussy, pushing and grinding against your gummy, tight walls – and another one of his extensions in your ass, writhing and massaging your insides. 

It’s pleasurable, you feel. The tentacles are uneven, cold, each little bump makes you cry out from pleasure, the overwhelming feeling is something you could never achieve with a normal dick. He cradles your face and chuckles softly when you moan and cry at the same time when he gently presses his red tendril against your soft lips, and you part them because you don’t want to resist anymore. Because you can’t resist anymore. 

— So good for me. Such a good girl, liked being fucked by the enemy. 

— I don’t like it! He laughs at your misery, pushing his tentacles back only to fuck you harder. He can feel the tension multiply in his stomach – he feels the movement of eggs forming from inside and pushing down the biggest one of his tendrils. 

When you first feel the pressure of an egg in your pussy, you want to scream. 

You scratch on his hands like a wild cat, clenching on him like crazy. If he didn’t see horror and shock on your face, he’d think you wanted him. You are tight, tighter than you were before – your pussy is closing around him, not letting him go, and he can only smile to himself when he feels every little bump sending electric shocks right into your core when you feel his eggs traveling from the start of his tendrils down, to your soft, welcoming womb. 

God, you will look perfect, all swollen and helpless – he can bring you a fucking collar, maybe push you on his lap and parade you as his precious wife for everyone to see. His scent lingers on your body, no matter if you want it or not. Silly human, you try to fight him like you didn’t lose the moment you let him pin your body. So perfect, he thinks of where you were before he found you. How many partners do you have, and how well would you play the role of his little breeding machine.

 He massages your tummy, with each egg taking its place in your womb. Soothes tense skin and whispers sweet promises in your ear when you cry and try to push him away. So perfect, so sweet for him – he doesn’t know the fuck he lived without you. 

When the last egg takes its place, making you bulge from all the weight inside of you, he can finally calm himself down enough to bring his human form partially. When he finally retracted his tentacles from your tired, sensitive body, not forgetting to press against your clit a good few times to prolong your unwanted, exhausting orgasm, he could finally press a kiss on your lips. 

You’re a mess – torn clothes, covered in cum and thick transparent slime, trembling and crying softly. You close your pussy around every one of his eggs like a good girl, and he knows you would be a perfect mating partner – but god, you need a good shower and soft mattress so he can try to fuck you again in his human form, and steal all the hugs and silly affections he wanted. 

— Will you let me go? 

He laughs, picking you up swiftly. So fragile in his hands, he doesn’t even want to think about letting you roam freely. 

— Of course not, Schatzen. Just get used to it, ja? 

[blackkatdraws2]

YITUR. KALLITU.

[ORV] (TW: Implications of SA, Non-consenting Pregnancy, Abuse)

"I was scared. What if I gave birth to a monster? What if my child ate me? One day, suddenly tearing out of my belly and killing me." "I was alone for countless nights, ran away and avoided monsters while feeling worried. What should I do about this child? Should I kill it, let it live, or…" - Chapter 251: Episode 47 – Demon King Selection (5)

BAH, BLASTED LINEART. HOW COME YOU LOOK BETTER, HUH?!

[Yapping Time:]

THIS WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS.

(TW: SA/Rape (analogy), Non-consenting Pregnancy, (Child) Abuse)

Hiiii it's time for me to make a serious character essay again about a silly corporate shit man that canonically birthed a child and became a mum, hellooo /silly

Chapter 1: Episode 1 – Starting the Paid Service (1)

Chapter 2: Episode 1 – Starting the Paid Service (2)

Chapter 6: Episode 2 – Protagonist (1)

Chapter 21: Episode 5 – Shadow Keeper (3)

Han Myungoh is introduced to us as a shit corporate finance department head that's self-absorbed, cowardly, and misogynistic (as he harasses Yoo Sangah because she rejected him.)

Chapter 4: Starting the Paid Service (4)

Although, he does show basic human sympathy and regards when he tries to stop Kim Namwoon from killing a weak grandmother inside the train, showing that his morals are somewhat still aligned with good despite eventually backing away and watching the murder happen alongside everyone else. Not that it makes him any less unlikable.

Chapter 7: Episode 2 – Protagonist (2)

Chapter 9: Episode 2 – Protagonist (4)

He's then shown to continuously do and say things that hinder or annoy the progress of Kim Dokja and the others in the following chapters after this. It's easy to understand why he's plain annoying.

Chapter 21: Episode 5 – Shadow Keeper (3)

Chapter 22: Episode 5 – Shadow Keeper (4)

Then when the Dark Keeper turns Han Myungoh into a "Yitur", he gets to experience one of the biggest fear/struggles of womanhood. Rape (analogy) and non-consenting pregnancy.

Chapter 206: Episode 39 – Unidentified Wall (3)

This even gets confirmed in chapter 206 when Kim Dokja thinks about how "Asmodeus’ curse consumed probability to realize the ‘most terrible thing’ that the target thought of," meaning that pregnancy was the thing that Han Myungoh feared the most after the incident with the Dark Keeper.

Now, not only was he thrust into a situation where his body was doing something he never thought was even possible, he foolishly finishes off the demon and was now being hunted down by the Demon King, Asmodeus.

Chapter 204: Episode 39 – Unidentified Wall (1)

Skipping ahead, Han Myungoh disappears for a bit and is eventually reintroduced back into the story when Kim Dokja finds him in hell, now turned into a demon due to Asmodeus' influence on him. Han Myungoh now turned into a subordinate of the Demon King, all for the sake of his daughter.

Han Dareum is the daughter Han Myungoh birthed after being impregnated by the Dark Keeper's eggs and cursed by Asmodeus. He didn't mean or want to be in this situation, but unless he wanted his daughter to die, he had to be.

For the sake of his daughter, he chooses to serve under the very same man who stole and took control over the body of his daughter in order to use her as his Incarnation Body. (Basically child abuse, even if Han Dareum was unconscious most of the time. And this is the only thing keeping Han Myungoh working under Asmodeus.)

Chapter 251: Episode 47 – Demon King Selection (5)

"Come to think of it, Han Myungoh had really experienced many things. In a sense, he might've had a harder time than me."

Kim Dokja even says this himself. Because, unlike Kim Dokja, Han Myungoh was just a completely normal middle-aged person. Gave birth, survived and raised a child all on his own, no help from the 4th-wall, no reliable people by his side, and has a Demon King actively AFTER HIM. Crazy Work.

He's not a main character by any chance, but Han Myungoh's efforts and experiences are worthy of recognition, and Kim Dokja does just that. It's insane.

Chapter 259: Episode 49 – The Best at Something (1)

Now it's said that he also has postpartum depression. (This was probably for shits and giggles on the author's part though,) and he's on a damn apocalypse, which means he's always on a high stress situation.

This scenario is completely assumption on my part, but how terrifying must it have been to have your child in your arms and feel the urge to throw it on the ground or the wall? PPD is dangerous, he must've felt the urge to do it, at least once.

Han Dareum was probably lucky she grew up faster than human children, I think Han Myungoh would've actually done it considering the, quite frankly, absurd situation and stress he's constantly put under, and shortly after childbirth too. (Unless the dude had crazy will power or they both died, which did almost happen, and it's the reason Han Myungoh gave up his daughter to Asmodeus, it was to save her.)

To top it all off, he refused to leave Han Dareum when she was taken away by Asmodeus, and his entire arc throughout the Whole Novel was literally him trying his darndest to get her back, whether it's doing dirty work for other people or being an underling of Kim Dokja's.

W parent. Han Myungoh.

_____

Of course, this doesn't mention all the things that happened to him or the things I like about him because I want to save some for later posts.

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

tags: fem reader, kids, penetrative sex, breeding

"she’s really good with kids," roy smiles widely to his best friend, a smile that turns into a smirk when he looks over to the raven haired man. cheeks dusted pink while a stupid, love-struck grin covers his lips.

that is, until it’s not and is quickly wiped off when he feels the gaze on him and a bump to his shoulder. "don’t ya want some of your own?" the red-haired man asks, and jason rolls his eyes. "can’t stand kids, basically have some of my own with all the other shits," jason says annoyedly thinking about his one-too-many siblings that he had grown up raising alongside dick. raising kids as siblings and vigilantes has a tendency to make the average man not want children

but, he can’t help but to feel a pang in his chest when he watches you pick up roy’s baby daughter, lian, from your place in the park a little bit aways from the two men. your arms wrapping around her tiny frame as you hold her close to your chest, pointing to jason and roy while encouraging her to wave at the two men. something of a wave, more of a grabbing fist is executed as she matches the smile that you’re wearing, and jason has never thought about getting you pregnant until this very moment.

like a flick of a switch changes in him. he imagines it’s what animals feel when it's mating season; something primal and deep within him that says he needs to be the reason for a bump on your belly and he needs it to happen immediately.

"c’mon, if you get her pregnant now, lian and yours can grow up together," roy pushes more, waving to his sweet baby while doing so; contrastly speaking to jason about impregnating you like it was as normal as he made it sound. "y’know you want it, big man. plus your babies would be so fuckin’ cute," he fonds, "well, her traits would make your babies cute, i don’t know about yours," roy teases with a laugh, hitting jason’s back.

bidding a farewell to your best friend in law and his daughter, you made your way back into your home with jason following behind, locking the door and making his own way in.

"how many kids do you want?" your boyfriend asks, and it’s hard not to take you by surprise. usually these conversations stemmed from previous important conversations, or something that brought overwhelming intimacy. To say the least, this wasn’t the average conversation that’s spoken as soon as you walk in the door.

this wasn’t the type of conversation to follow spending time with your best friend.

"why’re you asking?" you question, turning on your heel with a pointed look and jason shrugs with a roll of his eyes. his keys rustle against the counter as he walks towards you, his cold hand finding yours and leading you quietly to your bedroom.

“i think you’d look good with my baby,” he says, helping you take your sweater and then shirt underneath off. gently, and without rush, like he has all the time in the world if you’re willing. raising your arms to assist the man with his task at hand, you smile teasingly, “somebody’s got baby fever ‘cause of lian, huh?” and jason scoffs with a small laugh, “something like that. also wanna continue our family if you'd like to help,” he insists with a tease while your hands now find his top, doing the same as he did to you. 

his movements are slow tonight, matching the one of two ways you find him in bed. either fucking or making love, and when the latter occurs, you find yourself relishing in every touch that feels louder than they’ve ever been. touches that are soft but with force to be intentional, kisses that are meaningful, especially the one jason presses with soft lips to the spot right under your belly button. his movements that are languid, slow, and rhythmed with every moan and word that he whispers in your ear, say in your neck after he’s kissed the skin there.

months later when he sees your swollen belly, he feels like he’s won the lottery. he feels like you're a prize he’s won and just needs to show off; realistically, he’s keeping you home as much as possible and going out with you in times of needing outside air. your lower back hurts? he’s watched youtube tutorials on massage techniques that help during pregnancy. you have a strange craving? jason’s running out at midnight to get precisely what you’re crazing. oh, your tits are sore after you’ve finally delivered your baby? there’s nothing to worry about when jason asks a quick, “you want my hands or my mouth?”

[starmocha]

Sunday Reset [Sylus/Reader ★ 4348 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Lazy morning in bed with Sylus and your daughter. A/N: It’s my birthday today, but I guess I’m giving everyone a present instead. 🥹 I know Sylus’ myth had wrecked us all completely, so I’ve brought the fluff. This is a standalone one-shot and not meant to follow any existing series I have. But I won’t stop you if you want to think differently lol

“Hmm…”

You opened your eyes, blinking a few times before your sight adjusted, seeing the empty space in bed next to you. Still fuzzy minded, you wondered where Sylus was, since normally on the weekends, he would adjust his sleep schedule to match yours. Absentmindedly, your hand skimmed down your stomach, pausing when you felt the slight curve, causing you to breath in quickly. You pulled the cover back and stared down at the small bump that had formed just recently.

You were close to entering your second trimester, and your belly was already rounding out again. Even though this was your second pregnancy, it didn’t make this moment any less surreal.

While you and Sylus had discussed in the past about your future family, you both were not actively pursuing it, but also not taking any precautions. When you began having symptoms, you felt like your world had stopped. A few pregnancy tests later, and your suspicion was confirmed. Delighted, you had planned the perfect way of revealing the news to your husband.

You had sent a little messenger birdie his way, tasking her with a very important message and a polaroid she needed to pass onto him.

You still remembered the moment. You had recorded it, after all, having the foresight that this was a memory you wanted to preserve forever. You had recorded your two-year-old daughter scampering down the long hallway to her father’s study, a look of complete urgency on her face, feeling proud that her mother believed she was capable of delivering such an important news to her father. In her tiny hand was a polaroid she had grasped firmly, determined to not let it slip away.

Barging into his study, the toddler had rushed over to her father, exclaiming, “Message for you!”

Sylus had laughed, always delighted to see his daughter. “Oh?” He had humored her, eyes twinkling with joy and mischief when he had seen her serious expression. “Now who sent this messenger birdie my way?”

“Mommy!”

He had laughed again, the richness of it still ringing in your ears even now. You recalled seeing him peeked up at the wide opening of his study now, undoubtedly noticing your presence outside, but he had said nothing, his entire attention was redirected to the little girl who had climbed onto his lap.

“What is Mommy’s message then?” he had asked, giving a tender stroke of his daughter’s cheek. She giggled.

“Mommy…Mommy…said…she’s…having…a bun.”

You remembered stifling a giggle, already guessing how your short message was going to be butchered completely.

Sylus had looked confused. “She’s…having a bun? For breakfast?” he had questioned, utterly lost by his daughter’s message.

She shook her head furiously. “Oven! In her oven!”

“…she’s making buns?”

His daughter had frowned and shook her head again before shoving the polaroid she held into his face. “Mommy said to give you this!”

Sylus’ face had gone completely white, his breathing stopping instantly in that moment as he looked at the polaroid of five pregnancy tests lined up neatly on the bathroom counter. All positive.

“…Bun in her oven,” he had repeated, clarity seemingly settling in now. Slowly, his face had broken into a grin. His head dropped, and his chest rumbled with laughter. The little girl sitting on his lap looked at her father confused, wondering if he had gone crazy. Sylus playfully pinched her cheek, making her giggled and whined. Sylus’ voice had dropped to a whisper, almost as if he was conversing with the little girl about a special secret, “A baby…Mommy’s having a baby?”

The girl had nodded excitedly.

“You’re going to be a big sister?”

“Yes!”

Sylus had looked overjoy. “The best big sister,” he then said, leaning down to kiss his daughter’s cheek. He had looked up, his excitement instantly recorded by the phone camera indiscreetly held up outside his study. He sighed in resignation. “Sweetie, enough. I know you’re there. Care to confirm this very important message for me?”

You had turned your phone off, ending the recording. You stepped into his office, smiling sheepishly as you ran a hand over your still flat belly. “We’re having another baby,” you had said plainly, but there was enough weight in your words that made both you and your husband overwhelmed with indescribable happiness.

Sylus had sighed, a look of pure bliss on his face. He adjusted his daughter and patted his lap. “Come here,” he had said, “Let me hold you.”

His head dropped again, face nuzzling his daughter’s. “Both of you.”

Your mind returned to the present, the sweet memory lingering another moment as you remembered the way Sylus’ large hand had rested on your then flat belly, covering it completely. He was so ecstatic. You had seen the way his eyes gleamed with joy at the very idea of you going through another pregnancy again. He had certainly enjoyed it the first time around, you recalled wryly, giving your belly a rub and remembering how he had doted on you, unable to keep his hands off of you.

You sighed and turned to look at the empty space next to you again, but before your thought could proceed any further, you suddenly felt a wave of nausea hitting you out of nowhere. You covered your mouth, stumbling out of bed and racing for the bathroom, and just in the nick of time, you managed to hurl straight into the toilet, groaning as you clutched the sides. Once you felt it was over, you slowly gotten up and went over to the sink to wash up. You looked down at your belly and frowned, your breathing a little labored now.

You steadied your breathing again, sighing in defeat.

This baby was not going to make it easy on you. The first pregnancy had seemed like such a breeze with minimal morning sickness or any of the typical symptoms. This one, however, you were feeling anything and everything from the morning sickness that seemed to come at all hours to intense fatigue that robbed you of any energy to do anything.

Sighing again, you walked over and turned on the shower, letting the water warmed up as you went about brushing your teeth first.

About twenty minutes later, you left the bathroom, changed into new comfortable lounge clothes and feeling more refreshed than earlier. You walked down the hallways to your daughter’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to check in on the little girl. You could hear quiet sniffling and whimpering.

“Baby?” You made your way over to her bed, sitting down just as the little girl sat up and crawled into your arms, whimpering quietly. You felt her forehead. It was warmer than the night before. You and Sylus had noticed she had seemed to be coming under the weather the previous night, having little energy and no appetite for her dinner.

“I want Daddy…” She sobbed into your chest, her small hand grasping the fabric of your shirt to rub between her fingers.

You rubbed the back of her head soothingly, giving her a kiss. “Okay, let’s go find Daddy,” You answered gently, slowly getting up. You balanced her on the side of your hip as you carried her out of the room. She clung to you tightly like a little koala bear, and you soothed her with your soft, gentle voice as you walked down the long hallways.

On your way, you noticed Mephisto flying overhead outside Sylus’ study.

“Mephie,” You called out to the mechanical crow, “Is Sylus in his study?”

The crow cawed in the affirmative and led you to the room. The door was opened ajar, and you pushed it open further, peeking in to see Sylus at his desk on the phone. He noticed you and motioned you in as he wrapped up the call.

“Daddy…Daddy…” Your daughter sobbed harder and twisted in your arms, turning to hold out her own arms to reach for her father.

Sylus ended the call and stood up to walk over to you two. He immediately took his daughter into his arms, the little girl’s head rested on his shoulder as she clung to her father tightly. He rubbed her back soothingly before glancing over to you with a look of concern.

“She seems worse than last night,” he commented.

You nodded and stepped closer. “I think she’s coming down with a fever.”

“Poor little birdie,” Sylus said, and stroked the back of his daughter’s head gently. “Come on, let’s get you back into bed, Little Miss.”

“No!” The girl clung tighter to Sylus. “I want Daddy…and Mommy…”

You both laughed in resignation.

“Okay, okay,” Sylus conceded immediately, “You have both Daddy and Mommy…”

He glanced down at you again. “And how are you feeling?”

You looked at him confused.

“Your morning sickness,” he clarified.

You rubbed your small bump and forced a smile. “I’m okay.”

Sylus saw through your attempt to deflect, and he immediately reprimanded you. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, “I know this pregnancy hasn’t been easy on you. Be honest.”

You sighed guiltily, and nodded in reluctance. “I had a bit of morning sickness earlier,” you confessed. “Is it supposed to be this difficult this time around?”

He looked at you sympathetically, before pulling you into his embrace, holding both you and his daughter close to him. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I wish there was a way for me to lessen this burden on you.”

You sighed and snuggled closer, settling happily into his warm embrace. “I lucked out the first time, so this time I’m getting to experience what I had missed out…twofold,” you said, attempting to lighten the mood with a bit of self-depreciating humor. It seemed to work, because Sylus also cracked a smile, picking up on your intention.

“Why don’t I put my two little ladies to bed to rest,” he suggested, already leading you out of his study.

“Well, she needs to rest, but why do I have to, too?”

Sylus looked at you pointedly. “Haven’t you been feeling fatigued lately?”

“Well, yes…”

“And you said work has been exhausting?”

“Also yes…”

“And it’s a Sunday…”

“Yes…?”

Sylus huffed in amusement at your confused expression. “Why don’t we have a lazy Sunday in bed as a family?” He looked over at his daughter sniffling against his shoulder, her face rubbing against him in discomfort. He rubbed her back again to soothe her. “I think we could all use a little extra rest this morning.”

“Fine, you have a point,” you answered with a smile. His suggestion did sound appealing to you, not minding a lazy morning in bed, especially with the people you loved. You blinked in surprise when he handed you your daughter. You balanced her on your hip again, soothing her when she started to fuss again at the loss of her father’s embrace.

“You two get settled in bed,” Sylus said, “I’ll be there in a moment.”

You didn’t question him and just nodded, as you both turned to head in opposite directions. As you headed to your bedroom, you heard wings flapping, seeing Mephisto following you. You smiled.

“Gonna rest with us as well, Mephie?”

The crow cawed happily.

You laughed. You opened the door to your bedroom, smiling as Mephisto flew in and settled on his perch. He preened his feathers for a moment before he seemed to doze off. It was easy to forget sometimes that he was a mechanical crow, you mused, since his behaviors were so lifelike.

“Sweet dreams,” you told the crow as you walked over to the bed and placed your daughter in the middle before you settled in as well, turning to rest on your side. You propped your head up, leaning against your hand while your other free hand stroked your daughter’s head soothingly.

“Mommy…”

“Yes, baby?”

“Where’s Daddy?”

“Daddy has to do something really quick,” you explained, “He’ll be back in a moment. Try to rest for a bit, my darling.”

The little girl moaned softly, clearly in discomfort. She curled up close to you, resting against your small bump. You held her close and sighed. You always felt so helpless whenever she was sick, feeling like you never could do enough to assuage her illness. If you could take away all of her pain, you would do it in a heartbeat.

“Shh, shh, it’ll be okay,” You whispered, holding her close. It was just one child right now, but you wondered how overwhelmed you would be when the baby arrived and you were dealing with two young children. You sighed again, knowing that was a bridge you would cross in your immediate future.

Footsteps sounded from outside the room, and a few seconds later, you saw your husband returning. Looking up, you were surprised to see Sylus returning to the bedroom carrying a tray. On it was a little pink sippy cup with playful green dinosaurs imprinted all around and orange juice inside it. Alongside your daughter’s drink was a steaming cup of ginger tea and a plate of peeled and cutup apple slices. Sylus set the tray on the nightstand as he sat down on the edge of the bed, taking your daughter into his arms. The little girl settled against her father, fussing softly. He stroked her hair comfortingly.

“You should both have a little something for your stomachs,” Sylus explained, carefully handing you the cup of tea. He grabbed the sippy cup and nudged it closer to his daughter, but she pushed it away, whining quietly in annoyance. His tone was gentle, but still firm, explaining to the sick toddler, “You won’t get better if you don’t drink this orange juice, baby.”

The girl whined again before reluctantly letting her father nudged the sippy cup into her little hands. She barely held onto it, making Sylus grasped it before the cup fell on the floor. He gently pushed the cup closer, watching as his daughter took little sips.

“Good girl,” he praised before glancing over at you. His eyes darted to the cup of tea in your hands. “You, too.”

You laughed at his firm tone. “Will I get the same treatment if I whine?”

His eyes twinkled mischievously. “If I recall correctly,” he started, his tone dropping low briefly and his eyes darted to your slightly rounded belly, “The last time I gave you ‘special treatment’…was how you ended up in this current situation.”

You blushed prettily under his impish gaze before hissing quietly, “Not in front of our child.”

“Children,” he corrected you with an insufferable smirk. He reached over to the plate of apples, grabbing a slice as he carefully fed it to his daughter. The girl took little bites, chewing slowly, unaware of her parents’ conversation.

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your tea. “You are lucky you are holding her right now,” you said, tone half-serious, but inside you were melting at the sight of him taking care of your daughter so diligently, “Otherwise, I would be beating you with this pillow.”

He laughed, believing you completely. The sick little girl on his lap slumped against him, giving in to her exhaustion as she fell back to sleep. Picking her up, Sylus carried her over to his side of the bed, and as he settled in, he placed his daughter down in the center with both you and him on either side of her. You picked up your daughter’s hand, holding onto it comfortably.

“Poor little thing,” you said. “We should give her some medicine after she rests for a bit.”

Sylus felt her forehead with the back of his hand, and nodded. “Just a little cold,” he said, “A little rest and some medicine and soon she will be back to wreaking havoc at Onychinus’ base.”

You giggled and settled back down in bed. You and Sylus both watched as the little girl slept, her soft breathing heard in the silence. She curled up closer to you again, resting as near to you as she could in spite of your small belly you now carried. You smiled, feeling a strong sense of protectiveness as you held her close.

“Motherhood looks gorgeous on you,” Sylus’ soft murmur broke the silence. He smiled at you lovingly.

You smiled back. “Fatherhood doesn’t look that bad on you either.”

He shook his head, laughing quietly. He pulled you and his daughter closer, the both of you resting within his protective embrace. “Another baby…” he said softly, “Another baby…I still can’t believe it. There’s another baby growing inside you.”

You peered up curiously. “Having any regrets?”

“God no,” he answered back, pinching your cheek playfully.

“Ah—”

He stole your lips, kissing you long and slow. There was a soft hum of approval in the back of his throat when he heard the little gasps and whimpers from you in between the kisses. When he pulled away from your lips, he continued upwards, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then pressing his lips to your forehead. You felt the lingering tingles of where his lips were, your cheeks pinking under his knowing gaze.

“I love you,” he said with a sigh, “Thank you for this. For everything…”

“I didn’t do anything,” you answered feebly with a pout.

Sylus hummed softly. He stroked your cheek. “Sweetie, you have given me so much and more.”

His hand drifted down, resting over your belly. It lingered there as his eyes wandered from his sleeping daughter and over to where his second child was now growing in your womb.

“Do you want a boy this time?”

“Hm?” Sylus looked up distractedly, meeting your curious gaze. You repeated the question, and he huffed quietly, shrugging. “It doesn’t matter,” he answered. He gave your belly another gentle rub. “I’d be happy with a boy or another girl.”

You weren’t aware that you were pouting at his response, at least not until he pinched your cheek again, laughing as he asked teasingly, “What? Are you upset by my answer?”

“A little…” you admitted as you rubbed your cheek. You gave him a slight glare, but he seemed unbothered, his smile widening a little.

“Why? Did you want me to say a boy then?”

You paused, pondering, before grinning at him. “Wouldn’t you think a little mini-you would be adorable to have as well?”

“A mini-Sylus?” he questioned, astonished. He smirked, his curiosity piqued. “Then, sweetie, what does a mini-Sylus look like in your eyes?”

“Hmm…” You considered his question carefully before answering. The contemplative expression you wore garnered a smile from Sylus, clearly amused by the level of importance you had bestowed upon his impromptu question. A moment later, you spoke, “He would be confident…fearless…attentive…”

Sylus watched with amusement as you listed off the numerous traits you had in your mind. He hadn’t truly expected you to give this such a serious consideration, but the way your eyes softened as you spoke sincerely filled him with warmth. He leaned over, kissing you suddenly and stopping you in the middle of your listing.

“Ah—Sylus?”

He hummed softly and pecked your lips again really quick. “Sorry, you just looked so cute, I couldn’t help myself,” he said, but his tone sounded anything but apologetic. He continued to hum softly, his hand stroking down your side, as he was also mindful of the sleeping child between the two of you.

“Boy or girl,” Sylus started, his softened gaze resting on you, “I truly would not mind either one.”

You closed your eyes as he leaned in closer, placing a kiss on your forehead. You looked at him again, smiling as he looked down at his daughter sleeping in the middle, his hand brushing aside the flyaway hair in the toddler’s face. He brushed his thumb against her mouth, wiping away the little drool that dribbled at the corner.

“This time next year,” you began, catching his attention once more, “There will be two little ones sleeping in our bed with us.”

He chuckled in amusement, seemingly delighted by the prospect. “Then it’s a good thing this bed is big enough for them—and more.”

“More?”

“Only if you want more,” Sylus added, amused by your curious gaze. He smiled sympathetically, his hand reaching out to stroke your cheek in comfort. “I know this pregnancy has been a little rougher than your first one.”

Your hand overlapped his, the gentle warmth emanated from him carried away your worries. “Well, that is a thought to consider,” you said, adding, “I mean we certainly make beautiful babies, so saying ‘no’ right away would be a shame…”

“And we have plenty of fun making them,” he added with a suggestive tone and lift of his brow, making you blushed.

“Oh, you—”

He leaned in, seizing your lips again, stealing your words and breath in one quick instance. When he parted, his mouth lingered near, his voice carrying shades of sensuality. “And you always look so, so fucking gorgeous pregnant with my baby.”

Your heartbeat skipped, breath a little heavier than it was seconds ago. Your mind struggled to stay in the moment with him, still gripped by his intense kisses and the desirous gaze he had. “L-language,” you chided him, his immediate soft chuckles made your heart pound faster.

“Sorry,” he said with absolutely no remorse heard in his voice, “I couldn’t help it. You know how I feel about you pregnant. Besides, she’s still asleep…”

“Toddlers are like sponges, you never know what they’ll repeat,” you added firmly, though you couldn’t help but blushed at the memories of your first pregnancy and how much he had worshiped you in that state, treating you like a fertility goddess, revering the changes your body had gone through to carry his baby. It seemed history would repeat itself this time around as well, knowing Sylus was only going to fall even deeper in love with you. The look in his crimson eyes was both gratitude and desire, his restraints only held back because you two were not alone in this moment.

“I concede then,” he answered, adding mischievously, “For now.”

Your daughter turned in her sleep, curling up close to Sylus this time. He laughed softly, gently pulling her closer to him, his large hand resting lightly on her small back. He gazed down fondly at his daughter, and then he looked at you, smiling as he watched your hand skimmed over your belly.

“Thank you,” he repeated again, “For this beautiful life you have given me.”

“Sylus…”

“You must know very well that you and the children are my whole world,” he said, his voice warm and his eyes reflecting his deep devotion to you.

Before you could respond, your daughter stirred in her sleep, waking up. She rubbed her eyes sleepily as you and Sylus both looked down at the sick toddler with unruly hair now.

“How are you feeling now, my little birdie?” Sylus asked, rubbing her cheek gently.

“…tired…”

You both chuckled at the lackluster single-word response.

“That’s alright,” you told her, kissing her cheek, “Sleeping will also make you feel better. Would you like some more juice, my darling?”

She nodded sleepily and you reached over to the nightstand to grab the sippy cup. You helped her drink before setting the cup back in its place. The little girl rubbed her eyes and mumbled sleepily again, “Daddy…lullaby please?”

He huffed in amusement. “But Mommy doesn’t like Daddy’s singing…”

“Oh! Don’t make me be the villain!”

Sylus laughed off your glare. “Who said my singing voice was like nails on a chalkboard?” He leaned down and kissed his daughter on top of her head. “At least someone in this room has a well-defined taste and sincere appreciation for my lovely singing voice.”

The little girl pouted, not understanding the conversation between you and Sylus. She looked at her father pleadingly, tugging on his sleeve. “Daddy? Please?”

“Ask Mommy,” Sylus said, smirking at how you had widened your eyes at him, not believing that he would turn on you like this.

Your daughter immediately looked to you, lips quivering. “Mommy…please?”

You sighed and nodded, relenting to your daughter’s little plea. “Daddy can sing you a lullaby…”

You glared at Sylus again, seeing how tickled he was to see you cornered like this. You mentally made a note to get back at him at another date, but for now, you and your daughter both settled back down in bed as Sylus sang.

“Hush, little baby, don't say a word…Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird…”

The little girl let her heavy eyelids drift close again, turning to face you once more. You stroked her head, lulling her into a deeper sleep as Sylus sang her lullaby to her.

“And if that mockingbird don't sing,” Sylus continued, his own head resting on his pillow, his eyes shifting back and forth from his daughter to you, “Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring…”

The morning dragged on with afternoon just a few hours away. The soon-to-be family of four slumbered peacefully in bed together. Sylus’ soft lazy singing filled the silence, the warmth in his voice wrapped around you, filling you with a gentle peace.

How peculiar, you thought, finding his singing voice actually…pleasant to listen to today. Perhaps there was a reason your daughter was so fond of her father’s singing. There was a strong sense of security you felt from hearing his voice, knowing he would never let anything or anyone harm you.

You looked at him through sleepy eyes, the fatigue from your pregnancy claiming you once more. You smiled, seeing his own eyes drifting close as he yawned in between the last few verses before slipping off to sleep, the lullaby ending abruptly. Between the two of you, your daughter snored softly, snuggled close to you and the baby you carried in your womb.

You let your eyes close, falling deeper into sleep, the sweet dream you had unmatched by the wonderful life you had with your beloved.

[ryebread0605]

malleus smut with a stereotypical fairy-like reader, they have wings and can shapeshift from small to big but are generally short even in their normal human size

Oooo this is a super fun idea! And yes I totally am a ‘Malleus has two dicks’ truther because yes.

this is a gender neutral reader as well because why not

Having been placed in Diasomnia when you were brought to this strange new world, you were excited to hear (totally not when in your small form and eavesdropping) that there were more fairy’s. Sure, they used the term Fae, but that must’ve been a cute abbreviation right? 

Imagine your surprise when these so called ‘fairies’ didn’t have wings at all! How could these beings be fairies without the most important part! And why were they confused about your wings! None of it made any sense to you at first.

But now, after months have passed, you grew to learn about this world’s Fae and in turn taught about fairies from your world. And none were more interested than the dragon prince himself. He found a kinship with you, being the only fae to have wings of his own; rather large black wings that almost looked like that of a bats. He especially enjoyed watching you turn from normal to small in order to help him properly clean up the gargoyles that sat atop the roof, finding your height compared to his, even when normal sized, absolutely adorable. 

And then that turned into finding you a bit… more than adorable. 

He learnt very quickly that you weren’t the most… innocent of people. Your foul language and rather eccentric style certainly catching the dragon prince off guard, but it also made him want to tame that. 

And here you lay, face pressed roughly against pillows and wings spread as he ruthlessly pounded into you from behind. He himself had his wings outstretched in a display of dominance over you, his horns glistening in the moonlight and eyes sharply on you. Your arms were pinned behind your back as he growled into your ear,

“Say that again, see what happens little one.” He wanted to show you what happened when you disobeyed him after you had decided to push your luck with cursing him out. 

“F-fuck you~” you stuck your tongue out at him, wings fluttering a bit but not in an attempt to get out from under him. In fact, you quite enjoyed this position. No, it was simply to tease him more, to see what he was truly capable of. And as his hand came down hard on your backside, you quickly regretted that choice. His cocks pumped in and out even faster, your hole stretched far more than you thought to be possible. How were you to know dragon fae had two dicks?! It was almost unfair how good they felt against your warm, soft walls, but you did make sure Malleus knew you appreciated the feeling by giving the occasional clench of your hole around him.

Hours upon hours of ruthlessly being used as a toy by him, your belly swollen with his cum and body a sticky mess, mind scrambled beyond repair, he finally gave you a break. Although, by then, you almost whined as he pulled out. He was very pleased with the sight before him, smirking as your wings shone. He loved his little fairy, even if you were a bit of a brat sometimes 

[emoreemadden]

hii! it’s been a while <3 anyways here’s a request from a friend.

Outline: Gojo doesn’t want to be your friend anymore and tells you straight to your face. Unfortunately, you take it the wrong way.

Content Warnings: fluff kinda?, angst ish???, miscommunication trope 😭 idk not many tags or warnings for this one. lmk if i missed anything

Featuring: Gojo Satoru, fem!reader

A/N: i was supposed to finish this WAYYYYYY sooner 😭 my bad… word count: 1815

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Gojo Satoru. An enigma for sure.

You both have been best friends for longer than you remember. Well, maybe best friends is the wrong term. You said you were best friends, but it didn’t feel that way. At least not to you.

Every time you saw Gojo, your heart would flutter. Perhaps it was normal, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you had some kind of feelings for him.

You just wished he felt the same.

“What’s wrong?” Gojo had noticed you’d been acting different recently. He puts a hand on your shoulder. “You’re being weird.”

You shrug at him, trying to act normal. Even though you’ve always felt this way about him, you’ve only just now stopped bothering to hide it.

“I don’t know.” Your eyes flit to the ground. “Just tired, I guess.”

And Gojo, being the nice guy that he is, pulls you into a hug. It shouldn’t make you feel this way, like there’s butterflies in your stomach. But it does.

You’re conflicted between wanting to cry and wanting to hug him until you two became one.

“You should get some rest.” He suggests, pulling away and flashing you one of his cheery grins.

“I’ll try my best.” You smile back, though it’s not very passionate.

Gojo pats your head. There’s a pitiful look on his face. “Are you still down for lunch tomorrow?” He asks. Always so considerate, yet he’s never realized how you feel about him.

“Yeah, sure.” You try to up the dosage of your weary smile. “You still working on that surprise?” You ask. Gojo’s been planning this for weeks, teasing you about his “lunch date surprise.”

He grins cheekily. “‘Course I am.” His slender fingers fidget with his sleeves. “What kind of friend would I be to go back on my word?”

Friend.

The word taunts you like a bully, but you push the thought away. It’s all you’ll ever be, anyways. Friends.

You chuckle when you snap back to reality. “A pretty shitty one, I’d say.”

“Language, young lady.” He teases. You open your mouth to say something, but his phone rings.

“Sorry, I gotta go.” He gives you an apologetic look. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Be prepared!” He looks giddy.

“Yep.” You reply tightly. “Bye, ‘Toru.” You wave as he walks away.

“Do I buy her flowers or something?” Gojo says to Suguru over the phone.

“You’ve been thinking about this for weeks. Why has it only occured to you now to get her flowers?” Suguru replies, and Gojo can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“Well I don’t normally confess to my best friend-” Geto tuts before he can continue.

Gojo sighs. “Okay, girl best friend. Better?” He asks.

“No, but continue anyways.” There’s an awkward pause on Gojo’s part.

“I’m nervous.” Gojo finally admits. “I’m like, really nervous.”

Suguru chuckles. “Gojo Satoru, the strongest Sorcerer there is, is nervous to confess to a girl.” He says, his laugh getting louder. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh shut up, would you?” And Geto only laughs harder, his chuckle turning into full blown howling.

“Fuck off!” And with that, the call clicks off. Gojo sighs, shoving his phone in his pocket and falling back onto his bed.

“I’m screwed.”

You sit at the cafe Gojo had invited you too weeks prior, sighing as you stare at the clock.

“Where is he..?” You mutter to yourself.

Suddenly, as if on cue, he strides in as giddy as ever, looking around for a minute before spotting you and grinning.

“There you are!” He says as he sits down at the table with you. He’s sweating slightly, like he’s anxious.

You smile back at him, and immediately it feels like there’s a thorny rose in your belly, poking you from the inside. “Hey ‘Toru.”

He beams at you. “Did I keep you waiting long?” He asks, giving you an apologetic look for being a few minutes late.

You shake your head. “It’s alright. Now would you please tell me what your little surprise is?”

“Well I can’t give it away so easily!” He pouts playfully. “You haven’t even ordered.” He notes the empty table.

You sigh, before flagging down a waitress. “Can I please get two iced coffees?”

The waiter notes down your order and runs off, leaving you to stare at Satoru expectantly. “Yes I have.”

He tuts, rolling his eyes. “We’ll get to the surprise later. For now, tell me how your day is going.”

So you do. You two talk for a few minutes, and you practically forget about the surprise, until he reminds you.

“Alright, I’ll tell you your surprise now.” He says after the waitress leaves with Gojo’s order of a tiramisu cake and two spoons.

You perk up, curious to find out what he’s been alluding to for so long.

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”

You can almost hear the sound of your heart crunching as he steps on it with his words.

“What?” You squeak, tears forming in your eyes.

Gojo stares at you, confused. “Didn’t you hear me?”

You swallow thickly, feeling bile rise in your throat. “But… why?” You feel your tears rolling down your cheeks.

Gojo is alarmed, staring at your crying face. “Why are you crying? Do you… not feel the same?”

You shake your head feverishly, about to open your mouth, but the waitress places down your cake before you can speak.

Gojo looks down at the cake and then back up at you, his expression dimming.

“So you want to be friends?” He asks, sounding heartbroken himself.

You nod, confused. “I thought you did too!” Your chest swells with hurt.

Gojo seems completely distraught. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. “…No.” He finally says, looking down at the ground.

You stand up from the table with your purse, placing down a few bills before sniffling, trying to wipe your eyes. “I’m going home.” You mumble, turning to leave.

Gojo just stares at you walk away, feeling his spirit burn. “Oh.” He whispers, looking down at the cake on the table.

You hop in your car, tears streaming down your face rapidly as you grip the steering wheel tightly. Your head collapses against the wheel and your body convulses as you sob, shaking like crazy.

You knew Gojo would never feel the same way about you as you did with him, but you thought you’d at least always be friends.

You whimper as you curl up into a ball in the driver's seat, too upset to drive.

Meanwhile, Gojo is inside the cafe, eating the cake silently while he stares at the second spoon.

He’s so confused. He had a sneaking suspicion that you’d reject his love for you, but he didn’t expect you to do it so heartlessly. You cried, for god’s sake! He hadn’t predicted for you to be so opposed to the idea of being more than friends with him.

He feels his heart clench when he remembers your face after he confessed. He sighs, finishing his desert before leaving the cafe defeatedly, his hands in his pockets as he walks home.

The second he opens his door, he collapses against it, sliding to his knees and curling into a ball. He thinks for a moment, before calling up Suguru.

“Have you done it yet? What did she say?” Is the first thing that comes out of Geto’s mouth when he picks up. The reminder of the whole debacle just makes Gojo even more sorrowful than he already was.

“She rejected me.” Gojo says solemnly. The air falls silent for a few moments.

Geto is the first to break the silence. “What did you say?” He finally asks.

Gojo sighs. “I said I didn’t want to be friends anymore.” He replies.

A beat of silence passes.

“And?” Geto urges.

Gojo, confused, replies. “And what?”

“And then what did you say?” He asks.

Still extremely confused, Gojo pauses. “…Nothing.” He says, a hint of uncertainty in his answer.

Geto, with a loud sigh, rolls his eyes. “Are you dumb?” He asks.

“Huh? What’d I do?!” Gojo frowns.

“You goddamn idiot, she probably thought you meant you didn’t want to be friends at all!” Suguru slaps his forehead, which is heard from Gojo’s end of the line.

“Because I don’t!” Gojo protests, now even more confused.

Suguru heaves with annoyance. “She thought you didn’t like her anymore, dumbass.”

Another beat of silence.

A wave of realization hits Gojo. “Oh, fuck.” Is all he says before hanging up and hopping to his feet, running out the door to go find you.

Luckily, on his run to your house, Satoru sees your car still parked outside of the cafe. Panting like a madman, he walks up to it and knocks on your passenger door window, startling you back into your surroundings.

Your eyes widen when you see Satoru awkwardly waving at you through your window. Your eyes are puffy and red from crying, which he notices.

He taps your window, as if to say ‘open up!”

You sniffle as you roll it down, rubbing your eyes.

“Hey, I think you misinterpreted what I said back there.” He gestures to the cafe, his sentence broken up by loud, heavy breaths.

“Why are you so tired?” You ask in return.

“I ran here.” He replies, giving you a lazy grin before he continues with his explanation.

“When I said I didn’t want to be friends anymore, I meant because I want to be more than friends.” He begins, poking his head through your open window to get a little closer to you.

“I really, really like you.” He confesses, a light blush tinting his cheeks. “And I don’t want to be friends. I want to be your boyfriend.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, before letting out a breathy laugh. “Of course you screwed up like that.” You mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose as you smile.

He ignored your little jab. “So? What do you say?” He asks. “Please don’t reject me, I ran all the way here.” He begs.

You laugh again, rubbing your red eyes and unlocking your car door. “I don’t want to be friends either, Satoru.”

His eyes light up at your statement and he immediately throws the door open, fitting himself into the passenger seat before he turns to face you.

“Really, you mean it?” He asks excitedly, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You don’t?”

You smile. “Not at all.”

And with your confirmation, he grabs your face and pulls you in for a kiss, gently wiping your past tears as he does so.

He pulls back for a second to grin at you. “Thank god, because I was not ready to run all the way back home.” He jokes before going back to kissing you.

[lacroixqueen]

you're too pretty to kill (18+, noncon)

deadpool x fem!reader

Summary: deadpool was hired to kidnap and kill reader but reader is just too cute so it puts him in a moral dilemma

Pairing: fem!reader x deadpool

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Tags: bondage, brat, gun kink, gun play, praise kink

You loved days when you could just rollerblade around the city without so much as a care in the world. The feeling of the warm summer breeze running through your hair. Watching as the lights zipped by like dust lost in the wind. You wish you could do this forever. After all, it was your peace, your one true happy place. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Out of nowhere, you felt an arm wrap around your waist and a leather glove holding a handkerchief cover your nose and mouth. 

You tried your best to fight whoever your assailant was back, pulling on his wrist in a desperate attempt to rip it off your face. But before you knew it, you felt your vision blur and your head begin to spin. It felt like the world was melting right before your very eyes. 

Next thing you knew, you woke up to a sea of black. You could feel a piece of fabric cloaking your vision and tied securely behind your head. You tried to move your hand to hoist yourself up, only to find that both your hands were roped together behind your back. You tried to scream into the void, only to find that your mouth was sealed with a piece of tape.

“Mmfffhn!” you managed to sputter out, leaning against what felt like a cold, concrete wall. In fact, it was quite chilly wherever you were. Was it a basement? Warehouse? Regardless, you were shivering from head to toe. The tiny crop top and mini skirt you threw on this morning before going rollerblading was just not cutting it, unfortunately. 

You quickly snapped your head in the direction of what sounded like heavy footsteps and… clapping?

“Well, well, well,” a sly voice rumbled from the opposite end of the room. “Now what do we have here?” 

The unknown person gradually made his way over toward you, knelt before you, and removed your blindfold and gag. 

You looked up, only to lock eyes with what you could only describe as two white ellipses, narrowing ever so slightly amidst the shadows. Your eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness. 

“Such a shame,” your captor sighed to himself. “You’re so pretty too. As in, way prettier than most of my other victims. Normally my clients pay me big bucks to knock out assholes with beer bellies, bad breath, and a name on the registry but you.” He made a rectangle with his thumbs and index fingers as if to take your photograph. “You are perfect.”

“Wh-what are you going to do with me..?” you stammered, almost too afraid to ask. You never took your eyes off of him. He was tall, lanky, even. Dressed in all red and black. You took note of the gun in his holster and the two massive swords strapped behind his back.

“Oh, nothing to write home about,” he assured, ruffling up your hair like you two were childhood best friends. “Well, I guess if you are really dying to know. Someone important wants you dead. So I guess you could say, I, being one of if not the most popular hitmen on the black market, was hired to.. Uh, what’s the word, kill you! Yeahhhh, that sounds about right.”

“I don’t understand,” you muttered to yourself. “All my life, I can’t think of a single thing I did that could possibly warrant this, I mean.. why me?”

“Oh how tragic,” Wade remarked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear while a tear slowly rolled down your cheek. “I mean, who in their right mind would want to kill someone like you? You are the literal picture perfect definition of the girl next door who wouldn’t hurt a flea. It would take a psychopath to even dream of such a thing!”

You glared at him while he carried on his little performance. “Don’t mock me.”

“Oh.” Deadpool stopped mid-sentence as he lifted up your chin with the tip of his index finger. “So it’s going to be like that, then.”

He leaned back slowly, only to gingerly remove his pistol from its holster. 

“Tell me, Y/N..” he whispered softly. “Have you ever held a gun before?”

“I.. no..” you replied, gasping as he pressed the cold barrel against your cheek. 

“Would you say you’ve ever, oh I don’t know, felt it on your skin?” he teased, dragging it across your neck and collarbone. He took notice of how you swallowed the lump in your throat nervously, and the way your lip quivered ever so slightly. 

“Or what about in your mouth..” his voice suddenly took a dark turn as he shoved the front of the handgun in between your lips, forcing it into the back of your throat. 

You felt your blood run cold. At first, it all felt like some sort of a game. Like one sick, twisted joke. But now, it suddenly became real. 

Wade was absolutely giddy, watching your soft, plump lips part open and accept the icy metal. He liked seeing how your pink tongue was forced still and how you squirmed like a helpless animal he had total control over. And the adorable little noises you made when your mouth was full. It delighted him in a way even he couldn’t explain. 

“Would you say you’ve ever.. choked on one?” he said, barely being able to contain his laughter. Without another word, he pushed the pistol even deeper, causing it to squeeze against your uvula, eliciting your gag reflex. 

“Whghnnn..” you muffled out, trying your best to mentally distance yourself as far away from this entire ordeal as possible. Your mind was racing at a pace you couldn’t keep up with. You were trying to formulate a plan, something, anything to have him show you mercy. 

“Wow, you really are so good at this,” Wade mumbled, not relenting at all as he continued to shove the gun further down your throat. “Definitely better than I thought. Hey, do you like practice or something? Because God, you are a natural! If I weren’t about to kill you right now, I’d hire you on the spot.”

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo. 

Realizing he wasn’t getting any further reaction from you, Deadpool slowly removed the pistol from your lips, watching with glee as a string of saliva connected your tongue from the tip of the barrel. 

He then proceeded to drag the side of the handgun across your chest, over your bare stomach, and finally, resting on the waistband of your skirt. 

“So.. Y/N was it?” Deadpool rambled on, as he played with the pleats of your skirt with his free hand. “Right. You know, I would say I don’t have a lot of weaknesses in this world, wouldn’t you agree? So anyways, after I got mutated and all fucked up from that bastard Francis and became who I am now, there’s very little out there that truly phases me these days. But this..”

He gestured towards your pastel pink miniskirt. “This is something else.” 

And with that, he gently lifted up the cloth with the front of his gun to reveal your lacy magenta underwear.

“A thong! Boooold,” he commented, pressing the cold metal of the barrel right up against your labia. “I was wondering if you were wearing something underneath, and this answers the question. God, that’s hot. You know what’s hotter, though? One of my best friends, Logan. There’s just something so je ne sais quoi about that beautiful man. Anyways.”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly, a wave of goosebumps cascaded over your skin, and it was like the world just stopped making sense. Why did this suddenly feel sort of.. good? Minus the incessant yapping and endless sidetracked one-sided conversation, you wanted more. More of whatever this was. 

And Wade granted your wish. He pulled the fabric of your thong to the side with his other hand and gently prodded your clit with the tip of his pistol. 

He was taken aback when you moaned softly at the sensation. 

“Oh?” he said as he raised an eyebrow.

He pressed the gun even harder onto your pink pearl, eliciting another sigh. 

“Huh. Color me impressed,” he muttered. “This entire time I thought you were fighting for your life but you are actually enjoying this? You dirty little slut! And here I thought you were prim proper little miss perfect..”

“Why.. why are you stopping?” you breathed, a splash of pink brightening up your cheeks, causing him even more of a surprise. “Just keep.. Keep going.”

And to his own dismay, he obliged. 

“How would you feel if I did this?” Wade asked, but before you could even react, he had already shoved the barrel of the gun deep into your cunt. 

You tossed your head back in response, moaning helplessly as he pushed the pistol in and out of your swollen pussy.

“Ah, ah~” you cried out, instinctively spreading your legs open to allow him even more access.

“Now that’s a good girl!” he encouraged, taking note of your subtle invitation and pushing it even harder and deeper than he did before. “Wow. You know, this has been truly enlightening, Y/N. I never in a million years would have guessed you of all people would turn out to be a freak! And you, my friend, are the freakiest of the freaks.”

“I-I am not!” you protested, gasping as you felt the cold steel pushing heartlessly against your walls. “I like normal things too.”

“Uh huh,” Wade said as he continued to fuck your insides relentlessly with his gun. “And I am a three-headed sabertooth tiger named Richard. See? We can all tell lies to ourselves! It’s fun.” 

You could feel yourself practically melting into his hands, your soul floating into the ceiling until you heard it. The click. 

“Well, it has been real Y/N,” Deadpool sighed, his index finger resting comfortably on the trigger. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell had the time of my life! Shit, if we didn’t meet under these circumstances, we absolutely would have hit it off in another reality. As in, I would have fucked you in a multitude of positions in a variety of exotic outdoor locations! Unfortunately, however, the fun and games have to come to an end somehow. I mean, wouldn’t you agree?”

You felt as if your heart was about to both break and jump out of your chest simultaneously. 

“B-but..” you tried to reason with him. Not that it was any use, of course. “I really liked this..”

“I know, babe,” Wade cooed, his free hand snaking up and gripping around your throat tightly. “But if I don’t kill you now, I probably never will because you are just too cute. And sometimes I just can’t help myself but make stupid decisions.”

“Please don’t kill me,” you begged, looking up at him. 

Wade was just about to pull the trigger until you caught his eye.

“Aw, FUCK!” he shouted, immediately removing the gun from your dripping snatch. “Don’t.. don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you inquired innocently, tilting your head to the side. 

“That!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards your face. “Looking up at me with those big, stupid adorable eyes. You know I can’t help myself when you do that.” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you shrugged. “Besides, I thought you had already made up your mind. You sounded pretty sure of yourself after all.”

“You know, you really are a little shit, you know that?” Deadpool fired back, placing his hands on his hips. “God, and this was supposed to be sexy and dangerous, but you totally ruined the atmosphere.”

You smiled to yourself, self-assured in your victory. “Well, does that mean you are going to let me go?”

“Yeah, yeah, go fuck yourself,” Wade responded, untying your ropes and smacking you on the ass as you stood up. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Before you walked out of the warehouse, you stood on your tippy toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek over his mask. “Thank you.”

“Go, GO!” he yelled, pushing you towards the exit of the dingy building. “And don’t come back.”

And as soon as you came, you were free. The moonlight poured through the cracks of the tree branches outside and lit up your face. The door slammed behind you in a dramatic fashion. And with that, you finally felt yourself settling into another moment of peace. 

[brunchable]

The Marriage Bet - Part Two

Pairings: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Pregnant f!Reader

Themes/Warnings: Y/N in labor. Childbirth but NOT detailed, more focused on Bucky's presence and what he's doing.

Summary: How has a small bet lead to this? Y/N goes into labor and Bucky does everything he can to be as supportive as he could.

A/N: For those who asked for Part Two, this is for you ^_^ I hope it lived up to the expectations. . . I took inspiration from my own experience so yeah.

taggies: @rcarbo1 @ozwriterchick @mrsnikstan @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss

You roll your eyes as Bucky keeps a skeptical gaze on you, watching you step up and down on the curb for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Doll, you’ve been at this for days. I’m starting to think this kid’s staging a sit-in,” he teases, leaning against the lamppost, arms crossed.

“Well, she’s not paying rent, so she doesn’t get to stay. Curb walking is happening whether she likes it or not,” you snap back, determination lacing your tone as you continue stepping. But deep down, you’re tired, exhausted from trying to nudge your body into labor.

Bucky grins, but he still offers you a hand as you make your way back toward the house. “I’m just saying, if I see you out here tomorrow morning, I’m calling the National Guard.”

You elbow him lightly. “Very funny, Buck. This baby’s coming today. I can feel it.”

When you both step inside the house, Alpine is on you immediately, practically glued to your legs, rubbing her soft, fluffy body against your ankles more persistently than usual. You frown, looking down at her.

“What’s with you today, girl?” you ask, gently shooing her away with your foot. But instead of backing off like she normally does, Alpine meows loudly and circles you again, her tail brushing against your legs.

“Hey, come on. What’s going on with you?” you murmur, reaching down to pet her. But Alpine’s not interested in affection—at least, not her usual kind. She rubs harder against you, weaving in and out between your legs, forcing you to shuffle to avoid tripping.

“Bucky, I think Alpine’s lost it,” you call out, trying to step away from her. But she follows, her constant meowing beginning to sound like scolding. You can’t help but feel like she’s trying to tell you something.

Bucky, in the kitchen, is half-hidden in the fridge, rummaging around for something. “Maybe she’s just mad you’re about to replace her as the center of attention,” he quips, not looking up from his snack hunt.

“Yeah, well, she can wait her turn,” you mutter, trying to step around Alpine. But the cat is relentless. She rubs against your legs even harder, circling you tighter, her meows getting louder. You try to move, but she darts in front of you, making you stumble.

“Seriously, Alpine, what is going on?” you huff, trying to sidestep her again, but it’s no use. She’s practically glued to you, brushing her entire body against you, her eyes wide and focused as she continues her odd dance around your feet. You glance at Bucky, now distracted by Alpine’s odd behavior.

Bucky looks up, finally noticing how insistent the cat is. “You think she knows something we don’t?” he asks, his tone shifting from playful to curious. “Animals have instincts about this kind of stuff, right?”

Before you can respond, Alpine meows again, louder this time, and you feel a sudden, sharp tightening in your belly. You stop in your tracks, your hands immediately going to your abdomen as the pain intensifies.

“Ooo, ow!” you gasp, bending over slightly as the contraction tightens your entire stomach. “Bucky!”

Bucky’s head shoots up from the fridge like a missile, his eyes wide. “What?! What happened? Are you okay?!” he blurts, slamming the fridge door shut. He’s by your side in seconds, almost slipping in his haste. “Is it time? It’s time, isn’t it?! Oh god, okay, okay, breathe. Just breathe.”

You clutch the edge of the counter, nodding through the pain. “I think… I think it’s happening.”

Alpine, still rubbing against you, lets out another loud meow, as if confirming your suspicion. You glance down at her, and for a moment, it’s as if the cat knows exactly what’s going on. She gives a final rub against your legs before darting out of the way, clearing the space for Bucky to swoop in.

Bucky’s eyes go even wider. 

“Okay, okay, uh—hospital. We need to call the hospital.” He pulls out his phone, hands trembling slightly as he fumbles with the screen. He stabs at the screen with his thumb, almost dropping it in the process. “Where’s the number? Why don’t I have the number saved?!” he mutters to himself, glancing at you for reassurance as the line finally connects.

He paces as he talks to the hospital, his free hand anxiously running through his hair. “Yeah, hi, it’s… Y/N? Y/N Barnes? um, it’s happening. She’s in labor. What do we—what do I do? No, we’re at home, but we’re coming in—should we come in now? Or…? Okay. Okay, got it, yeah, we’ll head there in… five minutes? Yeah, five. Thanks.”

He hangs up, looking like he’s just run a marathon. “They said we can wait a bit until it gets stronger, but we can go now if you want. What do you wanna do?”

Before you can answer, another wave of pain washes over you, and you double over again, gripping the counter tighter. Alpine meows and brushes against your legs again as if trying to comfort you, her tail swishing with determination.

Bucky glances at Alpine, then back at you. 

“Okay, bath! I’ll run you a warm bath. That’s what they said, right? Warm bath to relax? Just—stay right here, doll. I’ll handle this.” He bolts off toward the bathroom, slipping slightly but catching himself at the last second.

You hear him turning on the water, his voice slightly frantic. “Warm bath, warm bath. I can do this. Where are the towels? Of course, we have towels. Focus, Bucky. Towels, water, perfect.”

You chuckle softly, despite the growing discomfort, glancing down at Alpine, who is now sitting by your feet, watching you intently with those big, bright eyes. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” you mutter, reaching down to scratch behind her ears. She purrs loudly, as if proud of herself.

A moment later, Bucky’s back, nearly tripping over Alpine as he rushes to your side. “Okay, bath’s ready. Nice and warm. Let’s get you in there before another one hits,” he says, gently taking your arm and guiding you toward the bathroom.

Alpine follows behind, meowing in approval as Bucky helps you into the tub. The warm water does wonders to ease the tension, but the contractions are still coming, and you know it won’t be long.

Bucky kneels beside the tub, his eyes wide with a mix of excitement and panic. “You okay? Should I call someone? Maybe I should recheck the bags. Oh, and snacks—I need to grab snacks.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You and your snacks, Bucky. We’ll be fine.”

Alpine, still close by, gives one final approving meow before curling up on the bathroom mat, keeping a watchful eye on both of you.

× × × × 

The car ride to the hospital was a blur—Bucky, in full mission mode, had one hand on the wheel and the other gripping yours as you breathed through each contraction. Every time you winced, his brow furrowed deeper, a mix of panic and determination on his face. Even as you swatted him away, insisting you didn’t need him hovering, he stayed glued to your side.

By the time you arrived at the hospital, Bucky had already called ahead, barking orders like he was leading a rescue mission. He parked the car, rushed around to your side, and had you in his arms before you could argue. 

“No hero moves, Buck, I can walk,” you huffed, trying to push through another contraction, but Bucky wasn’t hearing any of it.

“Not a chance. Just let me handle this, doll. I got you,” he said softly, the tenderness in his voice cutting through the pain.

Inside the hospital, Bucky was glued to you—holding your hand, rubbing your back, scratching your head soothingly, offering water. Every contraction, every wince, he was there, wide-eyed, on alert. He spoke to the doctors, double-checked every word they said, like he was memorising their instructions for later. He wouldn’t even blink unless he was sure you were okay.

“Bucky, I’m fine. You need to relax,” you grumbled between deep breaths, squeezing his hand through another wave of pain.

“I’m relaxed! This is me, relaxed!” he responded, his voice a little too high to be convincing. He had one hand on your back, rubbing gentle circles as if he could somehow ease the pain just by being there.

When another particularly strong contraction hit, making you groan in agony, Bucky’s face crumpled. He looked like he was ready to jump in and fight the pain for you only if he could. 

"You're sure you don't want the epidural?" he asked, glancing at you as another contraction hit, his face creased with concern. You could see the tension in his jaw, his helplessness in not being able to take the pain from you. “I just… I hate seeing you like this.”

“No. I am doing this my way, okay?!” You shook your head, gripping his hand as the pain intensified, your voice coming out in a growl. 

He let out a shaky laugh. "Okay, no epidural. Got it. But if you change your mind, I can threaten someone. I can be very convincing."

Despite the pain, you couldn’t help but smile through gritted teeth. “Pretty sure the nurses don’t need to see the Winter Soldier just because I’m in labor.”

Bucky chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. “Oh, come on. It’d make for a great story. I could throw my arm around, scare a few people… you know, just your typical Tuesday.”

Hours passed, and Bucky hadn’t moved from your side. He wouldn’t sit, wouldn’t close his eyes, despite you insisting—between contractions—that he at least take a nap. 

“You’re gonna fall over if you don’t get some rest,” you grumbled, squeezing his hand through another wave.

“Fall over? Pfft, I don’t need sleep. I’m like a machine.” He smiled, though his eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion. But every time you winced, his whole body tensed, as if he could feel the pain with you. “You, on the other hand, are doing amazing. I mean, you’re practically doing this like a walk in the park. The park of… childbirth.”

You let out a half-laugh, half-groan, resting your head back against the pillow. “That was terrible, Buck.”

He smiled wider. 

“Was it? C’mon, don’t lie to me. You were laughing inside.” He leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss against your temple. “I’m not leaving you.”

He looks at you with such fierce determination that you know there’s no convincing him otherwise. 

“Besides, I couldn’t sleep if I tried. What if you need something? Or what if you crack and ask for that epidural?” He smirks, trying to lighten the mood.

You roll your eyes at him, wincing as another contraction comes. Bucky’s immediately there, squeezing your hand, pressing his forehead to yours as you breathe together.

“I’m serious,” you mutter when the pain subsides, “you need sleep.”

Bucky grins, though his eyes are soft with affection. “Sleep? Who needs sleep? I’m living on love right now, doll. And adrenaline.” He winks at you, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Who’s gonna be here to remind you how much of a badass you are?”

Despite the pain, you can’t help but laugh a little, which makes him smile even wider. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. 

“You know, this is probably a good time to tell you that you’re way stronger than me. I’d probably be begging for the epidural by now. And ice cream. Definitely ice cream.”

You snort, trying not to laugh too hard as another contraction builds. “Yeah, and I’d let you have the epidural just to shut you up.”

Bucky chuckles, but his smile fades as he watches you breathe through the pain again, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. 

He’s quiet for a moment, then softly whispers, “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You look up at him through heavy breaths, your heart swelling at the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only person in the world. His thumb traces lazy circles on your hand, his eyes never leaving your face.

“You’re doing so good, doll. I’m so proud of you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

When the contraction finally passed, you slumped back, exhausted. Bucky’s fingers brushed a stray piece of hair from your forehead, his touch light as a feather. 

“You want some ice chips? You want me to grab the doc again? Steal you another pillow? You name it, babe, and I’ll make it happen.”

Another contraction hit, and you groaned in pain, squeezing his hand hard enough to make him wince. But instead of complaining, he leaned down close, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. 

“You know,” he whispered, his voice low and conspiratorial, “you’ve got the strength of ten supersoldiers right now. You could probably take me down with just one hand. Kinda sexy, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t help but snort through the pain, the corners of your mouth lifting despite the overwhelming sensation. “That’s… your idea of sexy?” you panted, trying to keep your breathing steady.

“Hey, I’ve always had a thing for strong women,” he teased, winking at you in that playful Bucky way, trying to distract you from the pain. “And you, sweetheart, are the strongest woman I know.”

Even though the pain was still there, the tension in your shoulders eased just a little.

“See, that’s what I’m here for,” he said softly, his thumb brushing the back of your hand as another contraction started building. “You focus on bringing our kid into the world, and I’ll keep trying to distract you with terrible jokes and my rugged good looks.”

“You’re lucky… I love you…” you muttered through the next wave of pain.

By the time the contractions were coming faster and more intense, Bucky was still right there, leaning close, murmuring encouragements. His fingers intertwined with yours, his other hand brushing through your hair as you worked through the pain. 

“You’re doing amazing, doll. We’re almost there. I’m right here.”

He didn’t sleep, didn’t sit, not even when you begged him to rest. His only focus was you, and every time your face twisted in pain, his own features mirrored it. But somehow, even in the toughest moments, he kept trying to make you smile, whispering about baby names, promising to make up for every second of pain with the biggest, most elaborate breakfast you could dream of. 

“We’ll get pancakes. Or waffles. Or pancakes and waffles. With ice cream. I’ll even eat kale if it’ll make you happy.”

When the doctor told you it was time, Bucky’s grip on your hand tightened, and for a moment, you expected to see that familiar flicker of panic in his eyes. But it never came. Somehow, in the face of what was about to happen, Bucky remained steady, his expression calm and resolute. He didn’t waver. His focus was entirely on you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, soothing strokes as you gathered the last of your strength.

The room bustled around you—nurses preparing, the doctor giving instructions—but it all seemed distant. The only thing grounding you was Bucky. His eyes never left yours, a silent strength radiating from him, as though he were willing to carry you through the final stretch. Every time the pressure built, every time the exhaustion weighed on you, Bucky was there, his presence unfazed, holding you steady as the moment grew closer.

Even as the intensity of labor reached its peak, he didn’t flinch. Not once. His grip remained firm but gentle, anchoring you in the chaos, his face composed, his breathing in sync with yours. He was there, unwavering, a rock against the storm. The room could’ve been crumbling around you, and Bucky wouldn’t have noticed.

His whole world was you.

Then, when the cry filled the room—the unmistakable sound of your baby’s first breath—it hit him like a tidal wave.

They placed her on your chest, and for a second, Bucky was still. He was looking at her—his daughter—for the very first time. His mouth opened slightly, and you saw his eyes widen in awe. His tough exterior began to crack, the strong front he had maintained throughout crumbling under the sheer weight of the moment.

Suddenly, Bucky turned away, almost abruptly, his shoulders shaking. He was crying. Ugly crying. His hand left yours for the first time as he tried to rub the tears away, his back to you as he choked on his emotions. But he wasn’t fooling anyone. You could hear the soft sniffles as he struggled to pull himself together.

It only lasted a moment before he spun back around, tears still streaming down his face, though he tried—so hard—to stop them. The sight of him, attempting to be tough through the tears, was endearing and, in its own way, a little bit funny. His face was red, his eyes puffy, and there was no mistaking the way his breath hitched as he looked at the baby resting on your chest.

He tried to smile through the sobs, wiping his face with the back of his hand, but every time he looked at her—tiny, perfect, and so much a part of both of you—the tears came again, harder this time. He was completely undone, staring at his daughter with a mixture of awe, joy, and disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that she was here, real, and his.

And though Bucky was crying harder than ever, it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his tears mingling with yours, both of you laughing at the raw, overwhelming sweetness of the moment.

He was a mess, but a happy mess—ugly crying through the most beautiful moment of your lives. And, despite it all, he never let go of your hand.

× × × × 

When you and Bucky finally stepped through the door of your home, the familiar scent of your place welcomed you back. It was strange being home with Julianna now, like the world had shifted but stayed the same. You glanced at Bucky, who was carrying the capsule carefully, his expression softer than usual.

Alpine was the first to greet you. As soon as the door opened, she trotted over, her tail swishing with curiosity. She stopped at your feet, looking up at both of you expectantly, as if asking, “So, what did you bring back?”

Bucky set the capsule down gently on the floor, his movements slow and careful.

“Look who’s here, Alpine,” he said, glancing down at the cat with a smile tugging at his lips. “We brought someone new.”

Alpine inched closer, her nose twitching as she inspected the carrier with cautious curiosity. Bucky crouched beside the capsule, lifting the cover slightly so the cat could get a closer look. Julianna stirred inside, her tiny face peaceful, nestled in blankets.

Alpine took a few tentative steps forward, her nose brushing against the edge of the blanket. She sniffed softly, clearly curious but cautious, still unsure about what exactly this new little human was.

Bucky smiled, watching Alpine for a moment before reaching down and gently lifting Julianna out of the capsule. He cradled her carefully in his arms, glancing at you for reassurance before holding her closer to Alpine.

“Come on, girl, get a good sniff. She’s your new sister.”

Alpine paused, her eyes wide as she leaned in to sniff Julianna’s soft, downy head. The cat's whiskers twitched, her nose brushing against the baby’s tiny forehead as she took in the new scent. Julianna stirred slightly, but her eyes stayed closed, her peaceful expression unchanged.

After a long, curious sniff, Alpine let out a soft, sweet meow as if giving her approval. Then, to your surprise, she rubbed herself affectionately against Bucky’s legs, purring gently, as if acknowledging that her place in the family was safe.

You watched the whole interaction, a warmth spreading through your chest. There was something sweetly funny about seeing this big, tough Bucky Barnes gingerly presenting his newborn daughter to a cat, as if it were some kind of sacred introduction.

Bucky chuckled, glancing down at Alpine as she rubbed against him again, her purring growing louder. “Looks like she approves of you too, kid,” he murmured to Julianna.

Satisfied with her inspection, Alpine backed up a few steps, her tail swishing lazily. She sat down nearby, watching with half-lidded eyes as if content that all was well in her world.

Bucky stood up carefully, cradling Julianna in his arms and grinning at you. “Looks like she passed the test,” he said, his voice soft, but with that usual Bucky charm. He glanced down at the baby, his eyes softening even more.

“Welcome home, Jules.”

× × × ×

Bonus scene: Flashback - A few months earlier…

You were lounging on the couch, feet propped up on Bucky’s lap as he absentmindedly massaged your ankles. A notebook was open on the coffee table in front of you, filled with scribbles of baby names. None of them felt right so far, and you were both at your wits’ end.

“Alright,” Bucky said, tapping his fingers on your leg, “we gotta figure this out. This kid’s gonna be here soon, and we can’t just call them ‘Hey, you.’” He gave you a crooked smile, but you could tell he was dead serious about the baby name situation.

You sighed, flipping through the pages of the notebook. “I know, but nothing seems to fit. We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

Bucky looked up thoughtfully, then suddenly grinned. “How about... Buck Jr.?”

You stared at him for a solid second, deadpan. “Buck Jr.? Really? What if it’s a girl?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Then... Buckletta.”

You burst out laughing, nearly kicking him in the stomach with the way your feet jerked. “Buckletta? Are you serious?”

Bucky shrugged with a smug grin. “Hey, it’s versatile. Buck Jr. for a boy, Buckletta for a girl. Easy.”

“I am not naming our child Buckletta!” you gasped, wiping tears from your eyes from laughing so hard. “That sounds like a medieval torture device.”

Bucky smirked, leaning back on the couch. “Fine, fine. What about something... strong? Like, you know, a name that’s got some weight to it.”

“Okay, hit me with it,” you said, folding your arms across your chest.

“Rock,” he said with confidence.

“Rock?” You blinked, wondering if he was messing with you, "Already with the Dad jokes?"

“Yeah! Think about it. No one’s gonna mess with a kid named Rock Barnes,” Bucky explained, grinning as if he had just come up with the best name in history. “It’s tough. It’s solid.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “We are not naming our baby after an inanimate object!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Really? But you like Ruby.”

“Ruby’s a gemstone, Bucky. It’s different,” you argued, trying to hold back a laugh.

He finally laughed along with you, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright! I'll stop. But we still need a real one, so...” He grabbed his phone back from you, scrolling through the list with a suspiciously mischievous look on his face. “Okay, let’s see... Princess Consuela Bananahammock?”

You smacked his arm, laughing again. “Are you picking names from Friends now?”

Shaking your head, you leaned over and grabbed the notebook, flipping to a clean page. “Okay, how about something more traditional? Like... Hazel for a girl?”

Bucky paused, his teasing smirk fading into something softer. “Hazel? I like that. It’s... nice.” He nodded thoughtfully, clearly warming to the idea.

“Yeah?” you smiled, glad that you’d finally stumbled onto something that wasn’t completely ridiculous.

“Yeah, Hazel’s good. But what about a boy’s name?” Bucky asked, shifting to a more serious tone.

You thought for a moment.

“What about James?” you suggested, giving him a knowing look.

He immediately shook his head. “No way. Too many bad memories tied to that name.”

You frowned, understanding. “Alright, then something classic but strong... like Julian?”

Bucky tilted his head, considering it. “Julian’s not bad. Strong, but not too over the top. I could see that.”

“And it works for a girl, too. Julianna,” you added with a smile.

Bucky’s face lit up. “Julianna Hazel Barnes.” He let the name roll off his tongue, testing it out. “That actually sounds really nice.”

You grinned, feeling like you were getting somewhere. “Right? It’s got a good flow.”

He nodded, then leaned back against the couch, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But seriously, you’re sure we’re ruling out Buckletta?”

You threw a pillow at his head, laughing. “Absolutely. 100% no to Buckletta.”

Bucky caught the pillow and chuckled. “Okay, okay, no Buckletta. But just so you know, if we ever get another cat, I’m naming her Buckletta.”

[kooqitas]

♡ [18+ mdni]!! # loss of virginity, rival to lovers (?).

you weren't surprised when seungcheol brutally threw you onto his bed. i mean, you spent the last few weeks fighting for any stupid reason that appeared. it was obvious that every unfounded hatred had something behind it. he kissed your neck in an uncontrolled way, biting and sucking the sensitive flesh as if he wanted to mark you. you spent most of the makeout in silence, knowing that if you opened your mouths it would only be to tease the other. it was a little pathetic, yes, but it was hot, and seungcheol was hot. fuck, you choked when you saw him take off his shirt, his strong arms completely exposed to you, the silver chain hitting your face. he laughed before grunting and kissing you again, pulling down his pants in a somewhat clumsy way. you just did the same, pulling your dress quickly and getting rid of your panties as soon as you saw him get rid of his underwear. okay, fuck, that was fucking big! you saw seungcheol grab a condom from the drawer, and you avoided thinking about how normal it seemed to him, and then he put it on, going with his glande in your cunt. the sudden act scared you, enough for you to stutter. "c-cheol!" you called him, receiving a look from man. "can you… take it easy? i… i'm a virgin." cheol's mouth opened in a perfect 'o', at that moment he removed his member from inside you, and at the same moment you protested, asking him to go back, just be… calm. "fuck, why didn't you tell me this before?" "you would give up…" "what? of course not, i just…" he shook his head, showing was better than telling. he removed the condom, but didn't get off your body, his hard cock was now touching your groin, while he sucked on the tip of your tits, the light bites on the hard nipple making you moan a little louder than expected, seungcheol lifted his head sometimes just to see you with your eyes closed while moaning, he went down kissing your belly, the wet kisses making your skin tingle. and seungcheol always checked on you, letting out a few laughs when their eyes met. "open" he said kissing your thigh, and you trembled, obeying. fuck, you'd never felt anything like that, the way his tongue went through every part of your cunt, the way he seemed to want to devour you. your moans and contortions becoming greater as he inserted one finger, and then another, and another... he kept 3 fingers inside you, and you clung against the sheets, wetting his hand. "cheol~" you groaned, as a request. and he laughed. you rolled your eyes. but the next second he took another condom, opened a tube of lubricant and poured it into it, there was not so much need, you were lubricated and the condom already had some lube, but he was worried. and then he entered, slowly, feeling you relax on his cock. 'so hot!' he moaned in your ear as he started to thrust, you couldn't even think. "you look so much prettier like this, under me, moaning" cheol was slow in his movements, yet precise, and you thought you were gonna die when his thumb went to your clit, making a pressure there that made you cum. "hold on a little, please" he basically begged, waiting for your nod to re-thrust, shit, you were so sensitive after cumming, your sly moans were making him crazy. he squeezed your left nipple and the loud moan you gave made cheol cum in the condom...

''damn... that was... fuck" he said, lying on your side after removing the condom. "who knew our academic rivalry would end... like this" you teased. "i was able to cum inside you then... i kind of won this game like hell," he laughs. "you only say that because you took my virginity, in fact, if you tell someone that, i'll kill you" "tell someone? damn, never! you're mine, i'll never tell anyone what happened here." "i am what?" "that's right. shhhhhh." he kissed you before you could say anything. "you need to pee" you stared at him confused. "something about needing to pee after sex, don't ask me, i don't know very well either, i saw it on tiktok" you laughed, getting up and going to pee, even if you didn't feel like it. when you went back to bed, you ended up in a silent agreement to sleep there, and that's how you fell asleep nestled in seungcheol's arms.

and that's also how you ended up having your first morning sex.

[endless-ineffabilities]

casual*

a.k.a. your one-night stand with modern Aemond Targaryen

*18+ minors dnfi

main masterlist

The intimidatingly handsome-as-hell guy sitting all by his lonesome at the bar seems to be on the same wavelength as you.

His gaze has been oscillating between the rim of his pint and you. Your face, your hands, and yes—you're sure you saw it—your ass, too. You squirm in your place, several seats away, but not because his attention's unwanted. These fucking bar stools are just so damn slippery that you feel like your smooth jeans would slide right off, and you would embarrass yourself in front of blondie. Though, his hair veers closer to Santa's snowy beard than Rapunzel's gold locks. How unusual. How strangely attractive.

Silver hair coiffed neatly above his perfect, angular face, those naturally pouted lips, and those eyes—wait—that eye. One seemed to be a prosthetic, but it doesn't diminish his aura. Not even a little. The fucked up voice in your head might even think that it makes him look hotter. More dangerous.

Straight to the depths of hell it is for you.

He throws a shit-eating smirk your way when your eyes meet again, right before taking another swig of his frothy drink. But he doesn't look away this time, holding your gaze as his glass tilts in the air and inevitably finds its way back on the bar's surface.

Oh, he knows he's attractive. Worse, he knows that you know it.

Heat unfurls in your belly from all the eye-fucking, the tension, and from the very real possibility that your own fingers will not be your only source of pleasure for the night, as trusted as they are.

Too bad you just downed the contents of your drink. Or not, because it seems to signal the first switch of the night. Blondie gestures to the bartender, then to you, and before you know it, another one of your drinks materialises in front of you.

"Courtesy of that guy over there, miss."

"Oh. Thank you."

That guy over there, who is no longer over there, takes that as his cue to finally approach you.

"Hi."

"Hello." He sits on the stool next to you, inching it closer as he settles down. He's even prettier up close, damn him. His hair looks like spun threads of silk. His dark blue sweater, his snug black jeans, his lips which are tugging at the corners to form a sheepish smile. "Please don't hate me for this, but I'm about to throw you a line."

You swallow. He can throw you just about whatever he wants, and that's not just the alcohol talking. "Oh?" you half-shrug your fluster away. "I expected as much. Let's hear it."

"Hmm." He glances down, showcasing his remarkably long eyelashes, then back up at you. With his head tilted, he looks slightly menacing, but in a good way. Like he wants to eat you.

Your coworker is about to receive a luxurious gift basket for recommending this bar to you.

His line then goes, "I find it hard to believe that someone as goddamn beautiful as you would be sitting all alone in this bar tonight." His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, then released. "But maybe I should be grateful, because this would mean that you're perhaps single?"

You have to hand it to him. That line would normally be at the same level of poetry as a middle-aged dad's Facebook rant, but from him? From his lips, and with that smooth accent? A fucking Shakespearean sonnet.

Already prematurely swept off your feet, you know you have to up your game. "I'm married actually. Husband's on a business trip. Again. My three kids, bless their hearts, stress the hell out of me so I left them with the nanny and went straight here."

His mouth parts slightly, his brows furrowing. You wink at him and add, "Glad I did."

You watch as his mind whirs, as his eye darts to your obviously bare ring finger. For a smooth talker, he sure takes a moment longer than necessary to keep up with your humour, or maybe you're just that good of a performer.

"You're killing me here, beautiful."

"That's what you deserve for that line. Did you take that right out of your playboy handbook?" you say, laughing softly.

"Excuse me, miss, but I own no handbook of any sort," he responds in a stern manner, but his smirk betrays him. "And you might not believe me, but I don't do this often. I mean, I don't really do this at all."

"What, is that another line? You're on a roll, handsome."

"I mean it. I don't make a habit of approaching pretty girls at bars."

"Why, because they just flock right to you?"

He raises his palms in mock surrender. "Hey, you said it. Not me."

There is a beat of silence as you watch each other, both trying to gauge the stranger sitting close. You decide that he might be more than just a pretty face. He smells immaculate, too.

And, more importantly, he seems kind. You pride yourself in having a knack for these things. Though you hope that knack isn't deliberately fooling you because you want him to get into your pants.

He's the one to break the silence and start the flirtatious interrogation that normally happens before getting right down to business. "So, when you're not busy with your three precious kids—" he says, prompting an eye roll from you. "—what do you get up to? Are you from around here? Do you frequent this bar?"

"Woah. One question at a time."

He leans forward on the counter, until his hand brushes against your forearm. "Just one more question before you begin, and brace yourself, because this is the most important one."

You find it easy to laugh in his company, so you do. "Okay, give it to me."

"Are you sure you can handle it, babe?"

No. Not when he's calling you babe. "Try me."

"What's your favourite colour?"

You learn that his name is Aemond. He's twenty-nine years old, born and raised in London before moving to New York to become the head of the American branch of his father's company. He has two older sisters, one older brother and one younger. His favourite colour is green. He's an Aries. He likes both classic rock and classical music.

And he's a fucking phenomenal kisser.

You spent another hour chatting each other up at the bar, which didn't feel like an hour at all. You could talk to him about practically anything, and you would have, until you both decided that it was time to let your bodies do the talking.

It only took 10 minutes for him to drive you back to his fancy apartment, but that didn't stop him from groaning and mumbling fuck's sake under his breath at each encountered red light.

"Patience," you giggled lightly, but then he turned his lust-clouded gaze to you, and you immediately were on the same page, cursing at stoplights in your mind.

With your back pressed against his bedroom wall, he kisses you with a frenzied hunger that you're sure you have never experienced with any lover. He lifts you up, and you cross your ankles around his waist. Biting his lip, he slowly undoes the buttons of your blouse, marvelling at your exposed chest. You twist an arm behind to unclasp your bra and it falls to the floor.

After a sharp intake of breath, he lowers himself and sucks at your nipple, his tongue padding at your stiffened peak. Your neck cranes upward at the hot sensation, and you grip his locks, and moan, "Fuck yeah, keep going."

He nips and bites at your breasts, leaving a glistening trail of saliva in his wake. "Your tits are so fucking perfect," he praises. "You're perfect."

"Mhmm, yeah," you mewl, reaching for his face. "Come here."

His hand slides to the back of your neck to tilt your head just right, then his mouth is on yours once more. It's unfair, really, how good he is at it, every flick of his tongue intensifying your desire for him.

You let out a wanton, wanting moan when he pulls back suddenly. He smugly chuckles at the sound, and how you instinctively follow his movement, craving more.

Your legs drop from his waist, and you barely catch your balance, breathless and disoriented. "What—" you start, confused, but Aemond steps back just enough to fix you with a searing look.

"Jeans off, baby," he demands. Like he even had to ask. He tilts his head, that insolent smirk playing on his lips again. "Underwear, too. C'mon, now."

Your hands move on their own, fumbling with the button and zipper before pushing the denim down your legs and kicking them to the side. You're grateful you had opted out of wearing skinny jeans, which you would have had to unsexily wiggle out of. You hook your thumbs into your underwear and slide those down too. The air is cool against your naked body, making you shiver slightly, but Aemond's gaze—burning, all-consuming—keeps you rooted to the spot.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, his tone dropping into something almost reverent. He drops to his knees in one smooth motion, and the sight alone nearly does you in—this ethereal, sharp-tongued stranger kneeling before you like he's a pilgrim who finally reached a shrine. His hands find your hips as he guides you to balance one leg over his shoulder.

You barely have time to process before his mouth is on your leaking cunt. He doesn't start slow, doesn't give you a chance to ease into the sensation. His tongue is hot and insistent, dragging over your folds with a precision that has your knees buckling almost immediately.

"Fuck," you gasp, your hands flying to his hair for something to hold onto. He holds you steady as he works you over like he's determined to make you unravel completely. And you don't doubt that he will.

The flat of his tongue drags up, circling your most sensitive spot before his lips close around it, sucking lightly. Your head falls back against the wall with a soft thud, a broken moan slipping from your lips as your free leg trembles beneath you.

You can feel the heat pooling low in your stomach, spreading outward like wildfire. His free hand slides up your inner thigh, his fingers pressing into the flesh there, holding you open for him as he works you over like it's his favourite thing to do. Like there’s nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing than ruining you right here, right now.

"Aemond", you gasp, his name falling from your lips unbidden. He groans at the sound, his tongue doubling down, faster, harder, dragging you closer to the edge. You try to fight it—try to hold onto the last scraps of control you have—but he shifts his angle, his nose brushing against your core, and the whole world tips sideways. The coil snaps, and your orgasm crashes out of you. Your body locks up, your pelvis shaking uncontrollably as you cry out, your fingers tightening in his hair.

Aemond doesn't pull away, his tongue easing you through it with slower, lazier strokes.

When you finally slump back against the wall, boneless and dazed, he leans back just enough to look up at you, his face glistening from his nose down to his chin. You're almost certain that you have never seen anything more sensual in your life. He licks his lips, and your eyes automatically follow the path of his tongue—the culprit of your sweet, little death.

"You taste as exquisite as you look," he says.

You know he deserves the sloppiest, most soul-sucking head after what he just put you through, so it's the easiest decision you have ever made to give him just that. Nothing more, nothing less. And anyway, it's for your pleasure too.

You don't relent until his warm, salty cum spills on your tongue, most of it sliding down your throat and the rest shooting out to cover the lower half of your face in milky streams.

The two of you laugh together when his leg gets caught in his trousers as he stumbles out of the rest of his clothes, making him land on his arse at the edge of his bed. The sound rings pleasantly in your ears, and you find yourself needing to hear it more often.

No. You know what this is. If all goes well, then you'll have the memory of this great night to keep.

But Aemond himself is not yours to keep.

Your face must have fallen, because he reaches an arm, coaxing you to him. "Hey. What's going on in that head of yours, love?"

"Nothing," you shake your head, closing the distance between you. He anchors his fingers at your hips and presses a kiss on your lower belly. Everything seems to pause for a moment. You both keep still as he rests his forehead against your stomach, and your fingers gently thread through his hair, massaging his scalp.

"I feel like I've known you for a long time," he murmurs, and you wish you could hate him for not making this easy.

"Is that another—"

"Not a line. I mean every word."

He rises slowly, his hands brushing the curves of your body with an aching tenderness that seems out of place for a night like this. He lays you onto the bed, then reaches in his nightstand drawer for a condom.

You nearly cry out in pleasure when his length first enters you fully, the sensation of him almost too much to bear. His face is lowered so his cheek is touching yours, and you hear every little moan that escapes him as he finds his rhythm. His thrusts are measured, not rushed or frantic. And it feels so damn good.

Aemond talks well, but he fucks even better.

"Faster," you plead.

He pauses and smiles, his lips ghosting over yours. "I'm taking my time, love. I wanna savour you."

His hips roll forward again, his cock sinking into you inch by maddening inch. "Don't wanna lose you, baby," he groans.

Oh, he is not playing fair.

Your hips soon rise instinctively, meeting his slow, deliberate thrusts, the need for more of him pulsing through every inch of you. He notices, his lips curling into a smug smirk.

"Okay, then," he says smoothly. "I'm going to fuck you as hard as I can now. You ready for me, love?"

Your breath catches, your body already trembling beneath him, and all you can do is nod, eyes widening in wonder at his promise.

"Answer me. I need to hear it," he commands.

"Oh, Aemond," you breathe, "what do you think I'm here for?"

His smirk falters for just a second, replaced by something darker. He lets out a low, throaty chuckle, his fingers digging into you. "Careful, love," he warns. "You’re about to find out."

Without another word, he abandons his restraint, and he claims you with a force that leaves you gasping, your spine arching as he delivers on his word. His hips snap against your pelvis, his body practically vibrating over you. He's relentless, just as you wanted, and he has to grip you tightly so he doesn't propel you upward into the headboard.

You feel his lips graze the shell of your ear before biting down, his breath ragged as he pounds his cock into your pussy with a heightened desperation that drags a moan from your throat. "Say you're mine, baby," he actually whimpers. "Say I'm the only one who gets to fuck you like this."

You would tell him anything he wanted. But he doesn't even have to ask for this one, because you wish so badly for it to be the truth. "I'm yours. Only you—aghhh—can fuck me as good as this—uhhhh yeah—Aemond."

He flashes you a boyish grin, and he looks so pure you have to take a mental image of the sight. Lips pulled back to reveal a perfect set of teeth, a sheen of sweat forming by his hairline as he keeps bucking his hips at a breakneck pace, hair unkempt and falling in front of his forehead.

You lose yourselves in each other, your sharp breaths falling in sync.

As before, he latches his mouth wetly over your breast, and you arch into him. His hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing it in tight, merciless circles that make you scream, "Oh, Aemond!" into the air.

"You like that?"

"Fuck yes."

"You gonna come for me, beautiful?"

Aemond sure has a habit of asking for things that are already guaranteed for him, polite boy that he is.

It doesn't take long before he spills inside you, his body shuddering with the release. The feeling of his cock convulsing deep in your pussy sends a wave of pleasure crashing through you, and you follow him, your walls clenching around him as your own climax hits hard.

He collapses next to you, the weight of the moment settling in as the room grows still. His forehead rests against yours, and there's nothing but the sound of your shared breathing, a calm after the storm.

"Fuck," he breathes, sheer satisfaction audible from his voice. "That was…"

"Yeah. It was..."

"Yeah."

Months pass before you see Aemond again. When you do, it's in another, more crowded bar—a place packed with patrons and full of noise—but his eyes find you immediately. This time, he makes sure to take your number. No disappearing act in the morning, no hasty exit on your part while he sleeps because you're running late to work. He'll be damned if he lets you slip away again.

You both fall into something deeper over time, and three years down the line, you stand in front of family and friends, exchanging vows.

Decades pass, and when your grandkids curiously ask how you two met, Aemond would smile, eyes softening with the memory.

He would say, a quiet laugh escaping him, "I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. Shame it took us a few months for our forever to begin."

Vhagar taglist 1 — @kravitzwhore @litchifaerie @g-cf2020 @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @noxytopy @fan-goddess @m00n5t0n3 @diannnnsss @nsr-15 @the-awkward-barbie @rockstwrsz @yellowstonebaby @urdeftonesgrrrl @eddieslut69 @callsigncrushx @starwarsdinosaur @qweq-6802 @tulips2715 @joyismm @just-mj-or-not @crystal-siren @all-for-aemond @alokaaaaa @vhwyrm @purpleskiesandroses @technicallystrangereview @jjkysnk @inesdiary96 @weirdblob21 @lonelyladyghost @tssf-imagines @nurtargaryen @paula-lkr @queenofshinigamis @breezyjin @empfm @amanda08319 @unrealwinchester @optimizche @seamaiden @spoffyos @subliiminals @believeinthefireflies95 @ex0tic-vgh @anukulee @peachysunrize (cont. ...)

[nochepsicodelica]

You know how sometimes you think of a scenario but just its exact moment and beyond?? There's no clear background on how things got to that point, unless you want to think up that background or it's just that single scene and whatever rolls from it? Well my little spoof is about being pregnant with Toji's baby, but as someone he loves and isn't embarrassed to partake in pda with and just overall someone who he can't wait to come home to every day. Like, he's ready to do this with you.

If you thought Toji was protective of you when it was just you two, then you had no idea of what was to come with having the smallest bean in your stomach, his little cub growing in your womb. You felt a sense of relief when months passed and—through his actions—he continued to remind you that he was in love with going through the process of having a baby with you, but sometimes you would get so caught up with the things that carrying a child entailed, that it would slip your mind.

He catches you crying a lot and even though he knows that it's perfectly normal for your emotions to be all over the place, he still worries. So you can imagine his reaction to watching you waddle around the house while rubbing your belly, in tears. You're breaking his heart with the sound of your little hiccups and sniffing and it won't stop, so he takes your hand and pulls you along to sit on the couch with him.

"You okay, mama?" He asks, rubbing your belly.

You give him a shaky smile and take a breath before responding, pausing the stream of tears for a very brief moment. "Yeah, it's just... my back hurts... and we're hungry... and I feel-" you can't get through the sentence before you start sobbing again.

"You feel what, baby?" He asks, wiping away the fresh stream of tears.

You shake your head, unable to talk through these intense emotions. All he can do is wait and listen until you calm down. He takes your hands in his and squeezes them, affectionately, showing you that he has all the patience in the world for you. Your eyes remain downcast, but eventually the waterfalls running down your cheeks cease.

"You feel what?" He asks, again.

"Fat and ugly, and I don't wanna go to the bathroom because of the mirror. It'll make me feel worse."

He hums, acknowledging your words, despite how severely untrue they are. "Sorry, baby, don't cry, but i'm gonna have to disagree with you. I've never seen someone as pretty as you. It's part of the reason for why you have a baby in your belly."

"It's unfair. You don't look any different. You're still so handsome and... and..."

"Hey," he says, distracting you before you break down again. "You want me to gain some weight?"

You nod, twinkling eyes meeting his warm gaze. You scoff, your thoughts on the suggestion immediately shifting. "You'd still be fine as fuck with a few extra pounds on you."

He laughs, rubbing your belly once more before standing up and sitting behind you for better access to your back. "What do you guys wanna eat?"

- EnD sCeNe 🥀 -

No, but fr this was just casually rolling around in my brain like a dog rolling around in mud.