#cw: wound talk

[crucifixi]

at least let me look at it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀PATCHING UP WOUNDS PROMPT

⠀⠀Wolfwood sat tensely on the edge of a wooden chair. His arm was a mess a raw open wound that marred his muscular bicep — the flesh around it turning an angry red. It was deep enough to see the under layers of skin, and pus had begun to form around the edges, a clear sign of infection.

❛ Stop fussing, mini doc. I can do it myself. ❜

He grumbled while reaching into his pocket, pulling out a vial of his serum. He didn’t need help from a plant doctor or any doctor that matter. These serums helped him before and will help him now.

[vickysaurus]

So I have many thoughts and feelings about the Princess’s heart, and I’m gonna put them down in no particular order.

So first of all, the heart is symbolically the source of emotion, and love in particular. And, as the loading screen reminds us, this is a love story. And in this love story, the only way you can ever slay the Princess is to stab her in the heart.

One route I think has particularly powerful heart-related symbolism is the Wounded Wild. You have just extracted yourself from the co-dependent and rather unhealthy relationship Networked Wild represents, and you are immediately greeted with the wounded Princess, looking absolutely devastated, with her heart literally bared to you. You, her former lover, can still very easily reach it to hurt her. In fact, that’s what she expects you to do at this point, though even now you get the option not to use her vulnerability and instead cut her free and help her move on too.

And then there’s Razor, who in her pursuit of the cruel joy stabbing you brings her makes herself into more and more of a living weapon, but even at the end, what remains of her original self is her heart. And in the Empty Cup ending, when you strip away all her weapons and sharpness, that’s all she is left with, much smaller and more vulnerable than she was before the whole process started. I do wish we would get the option to slay her or cradle her heart before Shifty takes it away.

The heart symbology plays a huge role with so many princesses. Wraith has become a fucked up skeleperson, but the one fleshy part of her is her chest, where her heart sits. And, in fact, she bears the X-shaped scar of how you previously hurt her there, belying her apparently cruel and monstrous form. When Beast literally consumes you, she also brings you right up close to her heart, to her own downfall. To slay Spectre, you have to let her possess you so her heart becomes your heart and you can slay her by stabbing yourself. Even mighty Apotheosis is brought down with a single strike to the heart. A strike from her counterpart in this love story, who still has this power despite her spending this entire route treating you as less than her.

Finally, the ‘bossfight’ against Shifty is all about finding your way to her heart in the cabin, in order to get through all that divine confidence. Whether you do so to slay her or to get through to her and work out a better solution than the two you’re presented with is up to you, but either way seeking her heart is once again the solution.

There’s not really a specific point to these thoughts, but I really love that this is a game about finding your way to the Princess’s heart, one way or another, literally and/or metaphorically.

[whenthewallfell]

first of all, I’m so obsessed with everything you draw omgggg ♥️♥️♥️♥️ and second, totally random question: when you’re drawing scars, like in your most recent drawing, do you think about/create the backstory behind the placement and type? I’m so intrigued by the process artists have and your use of detail is always so peak, I thought I’d ask

Omg thank you!! I tend to obsess over the details so it's awesome hearing they're appreciated <3 And yep, the scars are laid out based on how I think they were exposed to the bombs/fire at the end of MJ. To me, the way it's written implies that Peeta tried pull Katniss out of the fire or shield her from the flames - he was meant to be further back but somehow ended up covered in burns too even though there's no mention of anyone else having them, and I don't think that's for nothin'.

So with that in mind:

Katniss has a big one running up her back and along her neck where she was lying on the ground and kind of fused a bit with her clothes, but the majority of her scars are pretty delicate looking where the fire couldn't get a proper hold on her. There's a type of scarring called contracture where the skin puckers and creates these beautiful patterns that almost look like flames. They're lighter than the surrounding skin, which I thought would create a nice contrast, and also tend to reduce mobility (something about it fitting into the whole depression lethargy thing idk it makes sense in my head). She also has a lightning scar running up the inside of her bow arm from Catching Fire, I've just not drawn anything where it's visible yet.

Peeta's scars are focused mainly around his back and arms where he was trying to cover her - you can also see a bit of it in the post-Mockingjay prosthetic concept design where he's got extra scarring around the back of his leg. His are based more on hypertrophic scarring, with raised bumps and darker discolouration from prolonged contact with the fire. They can look gnarly but they're actually quite soft and don't impede movement as much as contractures. He also has a lightning scar from when he bounced off the forcefield on his chest, by his heart.

Thanks for taking an interest and letting me natter on, hopefully this wasn't too gory/off-putting to read through

[newtafterdark]

I'm having an absolute blast with the D&D campaign I'm in -

My man Sköll had the second worst time of his life in the two in-game days he has now been with the party. And I LOVE it! >:]c

He really went from a neatly-put-together ball of rage... to messy-as-fuck creature of exhausted acceptance in no time at all~

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

im curious, how did perkeo become immortal? you say theyre the dont age dont die type but theyve still aged to the point of an average adult. so was there a point where they became immortal? were they born immortal but still aged to the point where they seemed like the average human then stopped?

this is a bit more morbid but im curious about this too

how severe can injuries get if they cant die? how does their body handle situations where the average person would bleed out? would they heal faster? would they just have infinite blood? what if they got into a coma? would they ever wake up? or is it just not possible? how would they heal from injuries that would make it impossible for the average person to come back?

if youre not willing to answer the second stuff thats fine, im just really curious

They do not remember

The earliest memory they have is on the kingdom, and they were already a grown person by then

They remember kneeling, the agreement made with the king

They remember tests, and them stopping with lack of results

They remember doing their job afterwards, and the years that went on as they remained the same

They remember making people smile and laugh and how they cherished that feeling more than anything

That does not mean they never had a family, though

Morbid details under cut

Very. They had to crawl their way out of things no human could even dream of surviving, things no one should have survived — or even lived enough through it as it happened

They can still get dizzy, they can still faint, things can go to black, but eventually their brain will pull them back awake again. Die, but come back

The wound would close, but they can bleed out. They can feel the dizziness, the cold, the pain. If severe enough, they could pass out — either until the wound closes or until their brain decides it gotta keep fighting still. That said, they very likely could deal with a stab wound without passing out if outside factors are not included (if anything, they would just be annoyed)

Sewing a wound would likely make it close faster than leaving it alone

Their heart would always start beating again even after stopping, so I guess you could say they have infinite blood?

They would wake up from a coma I'm pretty sure (how long it would take would depend on the cause), unless it was like, medically induced (which would mean constant upkeep to keep em like that) because yk. Strong drugs

They do heal from injuries that would be impossible for a normal person to survive. Their body puts itself back together – and when it can't, it just makes a new part to compensate

So, for example: let's say they get decapitated. They could put the head back on the neck, and the body would work to glue the two together again

Now, let's say they lost a leg and for some reason could not try to put the leg back in place: then the body would make a new leg. It would take a lot longer, and be infinitely more painful, but it would be back in place one way or another

(Now for what happens to the lost limb — idk it probably rots as the body regens. They are already immortal, might as well throw some nonsense in the mix)

How can they grab their own head and put it back? Idk that's too much to keep track of. Maybe magic who knows

Also! Burned skin will heal and fade, take that was you will

Essentially I would say it's just kind of nightmarish but they do heal pretty fast (how fast? Idk, but pretty fast), and that they would also be pretty used to some level of pain rn

[manthatthingisafreak]

Also, you can always use your knife to make new holes in me if you don't wanna fuxk the ones I already have <3

[rye-enjoying-things]

I was bored and saw an outfit on Pinterest that reminded me of Subspace soni drew him in that outfit, changing some colors and tiny tiny details to make it more him, and more different from the original

So here it is! (Below cut)

[CW: Subspace's Scars/Wounds are showing, even just slightly. It can be considered slightly suggestive, I think, so warned for that too.]

He's dancing!

This was supposed to be an anatomy practice, as I drew the pose/body in advance to anything else. I saw the outfit that inspired it to be Subspace AFTER drawing the pose. I screwed up on the lineart colors and I couldn't fix them so they're black and grey instead of just black lineart. Adds more character, I guess?

He's so shiny omg

[hauntedhopeghost]

Yeah...right...

tw: mentions of suicidal ideation, self-harm, imposter syndrome (oh hey look it makes a comeback how nice of you to join), RSD, and just overall brutal self-hatred.

just a vent.

you don’t know when you internalized the fact

that you’ll never be enough. 

maybe it was one day. one day of scolding that went too far. 

maybe it was slowly taken from you, bit by bit. like a chocolate bar cut in pieces. slowly being chewed away.

maybe it you were just born with it. created with the function coded into your head. 

though the last one didn’t make sense. how did people do anything? walking around with their brain saying they didn’t deserve the air they breathed. the space they took up. 

or maybe because you had people around you. who cared. but not enough. 

they clapped politely, without knowing how much it mattered. 

and so as soon as you started to fly, they shot you down. they didn’t want you to fly too close to the sun, after all. we all knew what happens to Icarus. 

but they injured you. they poked so many holes in the wax wings that you plummeted. towards the ocean. 

and you fell. 

so you stopped. you stopped flying for you. 

or maybe you never stopped. maybe you’re only here because they wanted you to. you never chose to be here, after all. you’re just here to make other people happy. 

what else are you worth? besides that? 

but making people happy isn’t working. they got upset at you. they said things that you can’t handle. 

how can you handle everyone else when you can’t handle this from the closest people in your life? how can you be yourself when all you were defined as was to make everyone care about you? 

you’re selfless. you’re so polite. you’re so mature for your age. 

you’re so kind. you’re so hard on yourself.

you’re so lazy. you’re so emotional. you’re such a crybaby. 

you can’t handle growing up if this is how you act with a small critique. you can’t sit here and stay in shock and want to hurl yourself out the window and scratch into arms until you bleed. 

you have work to do. 

but they’ll never understand how much it matters to you. they’ll never understand the spike.

the adrenaline and hop in your step and how the world seemed so much more colorful when someone gave you what you wanted. 

but just like the times when you were young. when you learned to suddenly stop laughing and learned to put a hurt expression on your face. because of all the times you were told your laughter was too loud. that the joke wasn’t even funny but it sounded hysterical to you. like those times. 

you had to be down-to-earth. or else no one would take you seriously. so with every achievement you didn’t need other people’s help to brush or insult them away. you did it yourself. 

you couldn’t take any compliments anymore. any perfect score was taken as luck. people are just complimenting you because they haven’t seen someone better yet. someone replaceable. 

or they were just flat-out lying. that’s a possibility. 

so you long to impress the people more skilled than you. you were taught to look up to them, after all. you long to impress them the same way they impressed you. 

or was it jealousy? were you jealous of them, possibly? you can’t be jealous. you’re supposed to be happy you hypocrite. 

you can’t count how many things that’ll never see the light of day again. how many hobbies you truly enjoyed but were ruined by comparing. or because no one cared enough about it. or how many words you’ve written but spoiled by judgment. 

and years and years of hating yourself.

you were born to hate yourself;  you were born to pretend you had any form of self-love at all. 

the only form of self-love came when you were emotionally exhausted. when you’re so tired you can’t think of anything but of how tired you were. 

you were selfish. though. selfish for thinking you could be the best.  selfish for thinking your ideas had any form of tact at all. 

they were stronger than you, that’s for sure. 

the people who were told they would never make it, and still made it. they’ll never be you. that’s for sure. you’re too sensitive. 

you think you could just get what you want without doing any work? how cute. you think you can make someone happy? when it’s you? when you’re the one trying? 

how…cute. 

you’re still that eight-year-old who hit themselves until their arms were red. you’re still that little kid who cried because “all the other kids have birthday parties! all the other kids have so many friends who don’t leave me!” you’re still that kid who cried after you didn’t win, waiting for reassurance and instead getting hit with the reality train. because you didn’t train enough. because you were seven fucking years old and you were crying in the car while they yelled at you. 

you were nine. you were nine and someone should’ve hugged you afterwards. you were nine and instead people said you weren’t good enough. that you should win first place and that the older kids got almost every single question right and even though you were the best, it was because everyone else was a failure. 

even though you made it further than the people almost twice your age. you still cried in the bathroom because you panicked. you froze up and you don’t deserve any of it. 

reality hit in: you aren’t that gifted kid anymore. you never were.

so none of your achievements were worth it. huh. that’s a shock. 

why don’t you just throw out the few prizes you have? if you had any at all. 

if you can’t make yourself happy: make everyone else happy instead. your mother was always telling you to have a goal set. to have a purpose in life so you wouldn’t try and kill yourself again. 

why can’t you do it? why can’t you just be like everyone else? 

all of the people who said they were impressed, said they liked what you did 

and whatnot. 

all liars. 

big. fat. liars. 

all of them. 

they’ll discover how much of a fraud you are. you're too unskilled to even be breathing air on this earth.

it’s easy to replace someone terrible. there’s people waiting in line already. 

so might as well point out your flaws before anyone bothers to. 

stupid. how stupid. 

[sapphic-bats]

“You think you’re so cool.” Yeah?? I literally wiped out rollerblading today while listening to Glass Animals and went back for another round. Name someone cooler.

[habitual-creatures]

(He sits by Frost )

I think it's best to leave them be. Obviously they don't want to stop. It's definitely interesting to see how much you care. It's a wonder how you keep yourself together

Don't... Listen...

-Mystery guest

St- ... op- ... can't- ...

Ghh-

[bunnyboy-juice]

;~; (tags vent)

[angeart]

...I forget how evil you can be with cliffhangers sometimes D: You can't just leave it like that! What was next?? (yes I could guess but I'd rather have an Ange ramble :3 )

-🎀

oh wow i really left you hanging on that one, oopsie <3

after the Original Raven died, rei's soul... just... dragged another raven in. because he couldn't bear it. he couldn't, not with that, not like that.

this meant another twin bond had to snap so that our rei's could be patched up. for that, to at least somehow maintain things, a bunch of things needed to be... erased.

the new raven came in as a blank slate. no attachments! no memories.

the memory of original raven's death was also erased.

now this set off a whole different chain of events. rei never experienced that horrible traumatic event of being on that cliffside and seeing crying raven topple. he never had to be haunted by the words i need you being raven's last.

he never got to learn from that, in a way.

this new raven was clueless. didn't recognise anyone! so this started a whole spiral, and a family crisis. the abrupt amnesia was suddenly on the table, without anyone knowing the cause. they started rebuilding raven's foundations, and... raven remained the center of attention.

rei was even more invisible than before.

his pain was not important in any of this. not anymore. not ever raven could pay attention to that at this point.

but here's the thing. this raven didn't belong here. in this reality. in this world.

so the reality rejected him. slowly at first, and then all at once.

it got rid of him.

this means another raven has died.

and rei's bond, frayed and agonised, still couldn't allow raven to go.

so another raven came in!! (cue carousel music)

blank, again. no memory. the family had to deal with another amnesia out of the blue. nobody remembered the deaths. they thought this is still the same person.

and. it kept happening.

at some point, their dad left the picture.

their mom is doing her best. but she's so, so exhausted. working impossibly long hours on top of everything. and so a lot of the pressure was delegated to rei. look after your brother. make sure he's safe. make sure he knows how to get home. make sure he knows who we are.

all of that.

and rei wasn't meant to be the responsible one. he wasn't meant to be trusted with fragile things.

he doesn't know how to reconcile himself with this and still keep a semblance of his own life. it all just boils. he continues hurtling down bad paths.

well, he tried, at first. but eventually, the cycle became fatiguing and, honesly, hopeless. pointless, almost. so he started doing the bare minimum.

rei's current go-to strategy is to just orient raven enough and then promptly tell him to stay away and leave him be, because rei's the bad one between the two of them. he explains to him, in no uncertain terms, that he doesn't care. that raven doesn't want to be near him.

(and he does care. he still cares so damn much.)

(he just can't do this.)

eventually, the reality decided enough's enough. time to change something up, because this clearly isn't working.

this is where our raven enters.

our raven comes from a world where rei doesn't exist. he never had a sibling. there's no bond that needs to be erased for this to go smoothly.

so he's just yanked, and thrown in. all of him intact, including his memories.

which means he's different. he no longer follows the script rei has so meticulously written.

it also means that he's much more acutely aware that he doesn't belong here. he's much more susceptible to those reality glitches and the growing, impeding rejection. the shadows, the voices, the funky mirrors. all of it just building up around him into one big nightmare.

and i do have fun bits about all of this!! let's rewind slightly back and talk about our raven crossing over into this world!

as i said before, when raven first crosses realities, he's in a scary place for a little bit. that's an in-between world of sorts. there's a guide, and he instantly starts rambling off that this is a place for lost souls—and then he cuts off. "oh, it's you, raven."

he knows him.

he knows raven, because he's seen countless iterations of him pass through.

as they walk across this realm, they come across another person. and that person tells raven, who asks what does a world for lost souls even mean, that he isn't lost. which irks our guide! even though he knows it's true in this case.

and they sort of. argue! throwing in fun little foreshadowings like, do you really want to watch the same thing happen again for the hundreth time? and this is how things work and no they DON'T work, that's the whole point!

they also say,

"he's destroying his world!"

"it isn't his."

"goddammit, he's destroying SOMEONE'S world!"

"worlds."

"worlds!!"

"it's not his fault."

anyway, no, raven doesn't bother paying attention to them, too distracted by an inner pull towards an alleyway with an old, broken mirror.

the world transforms into a maze around him in a blink, and then opens up into an expanse of water that keeps rising. the guide ís back next to him, insisting that raven should be the one to control what's around them. telling raven to change it up. to make it safer.

but then the guide corrects himself, realising that it's not in raven's control. it's in theirs. all the other ravens.

it's all the trauma and misery that seeps in and dictates the shape of this place now.

raven and the guide proceed to have a stressed-out back-and-forth, where the guide doesn't provide any useful answers. he says he's the guide for lost souls, but raven isn't lost, so he can't really guide him. but! he can give him a piece of advice.

the advice is, your other self will show you the way. and to trust him.

of course raven just rolls his eyes because what the fuck.

the back of raven's neck tingles as if he was watched, and when he looks over, there's a mirror labyrinth. and he feels drawn in, as the water keeps incessantly rising, now swallowing up his legs.

before he can go, the guide stops him with a pensive, "he was right, you know." (he, as in, that other person the guide was arguing with before.) and he says, quietly, urgently, uneasily: "what do you think happens to people who succumb to the pull of that part of their soul that never belonged to them in the first place? to people who inadvertently step into an empty space just to fill it?" a short pause, and then a heavy finish: "... to people like you?"

raven doesn't get more than this.

the next thing he knows, the guide is gone, and the mirror maze is here, right around him.

the water never goes away. it keeps rushing in around him.

the mirror images are... disturbing, to say the least. ravens, countless of them, but not him. there's panic, there's blood, there is despair.

he doesn't really want to see it.

he keeps moving—swimming, now, his clothes dragging him down—realising that this maze might not have an end. that there might not be an exit. that he can't get out.

it's once the water rises far enough for him to realise that there is a ceiling that the panic truly sets in. he's swallowed up, caught, and no matter how much he screams, nobody is helping. (the mirror ravens now all watch him, drawn to his desperation like moths to a flame. looking on with sympathy, uncertainty, fear.)

despodently, he remembers the guide's words.

your other self will show you the way.

he's out of options. he takes his last breath and goes under, searching.

there is a mirror right in front of him.

the raven on the other side is water-drenched, but standing on dry land. he stares back with an indecipherable grief. drops trail down his cheeks.

he says, "i know how it feels." and then, quieter: "i'm sorry."

raven's lungs burn. his mind is filled with indescribable panic. darkness swims across his vision.

his mirror self half-whispers, brokenly: "this wasn't meant to happen."

it's at this point that raven blacks out.

there's a fuzzy sense of sinking, deeper and deeper into an endless ocean. the water is calm, heavy, pressing at him from every side. it all feels sleepy, slow motion. it feels like the end.

he's awoken sharply, his head ringing with words without a voice:

this world does not belong to you.

he wakes up in an unfamiliar bed.

<3

[snarlingteeth]

It’s a very sweet horrendous pain you feel when you’re aromantic and see your ex go on to be in a poly relationship. You could have never been enough.

[screechingsandwichhologram]

i think it would be an interesting concept if wounds that take a canon life never go away, even after respawning.

like it just doesn't have to power to kill you anymore. It would be common to see people actively bleeding out. Going up to c!tommy and see three active fatal wounds - a sluggishly bleeding neck, a blood-soaked spot right where the heart is, and a bloody gash in his head.

Even if they don't keep bleeding, imagine just having an open piece of internal organs, forever vulnerable to the elements.

And for more destructive deaths, such as c!tubbo's festival death, it would limit itself to still having most of the body intact, but still bleeding profusely from the parts that were formerly blown into bits.

imagine the trauma that would come from such a stark reminder of death.

imagine how impossible it would be to hide. to live.

[manthatthingisafreak]

CW for bloodplay, and weaponplay/knifeplay

Imagining someone having me pinned beneath them, knife to my throat as they tease me, starting to get a bit rougher as they go until finally they press the blade of their knife into my throat, creating a wound across it. Imagine further they gently press their fingers into the wound, gathering some of my blood before sliding their hand back down my body, using my own blood as lube as they slide their fingers inside me. I'm whimpering in pain and pleasure and every time they thrust their fingers in and out of me they use their knife to create a little nick in my flesh. All the while they're telling me how good I'm being for them, how I was just made to take their knife and their fingers, how I look so pretty painted in my own blood as they fuck me

[ashasdiary]

Vitamins

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader

Synopsis: Husband!Nanami being super domestic, encouraging you to take vitamins, and taking care of you in all ways. 

CW: pet names, going to the doctors, established relationship, smut — dirty talking, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie, brief edging, breeding kink if you squint, pregnancy (MDNI) WC: 4.6k A/N: I’m not religious but I need him biblically. 

“You’re not anaemic, but your iron levels were shown to be at 4, where we would like to see them at 6, so they’re low,” the doctor informs you. 

You nod in acceptance and Nanami, sat beside you, leans in as he listens intently, elbows on his knees and hands joined together. He’d been the one who recommended you get your blood tested, so of course he was here to support. 

“I’ll be prescribing you some iron tablets for that and hopefully we can see some results after a couple of months. Further, it was found that you were deficient in vitamin A, B12, and D. Your vitamin K levels looked to be normal, however,” the doctor goes on and you nod again. 

“That’s good, honey. You were concerned about bruises and wound recovery but your vitamin K is fine. Right, doctor?” Nanami gazes at you before looking back to the doctor. You blush a little at the mention of bruises, a flashback of a couple nights ago popping up in your head. 

His big hands, roaming your body, coming to rest on your hips and squeezing them tightly as he pulled you onto his cock desperately. 

The doctor’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts immediately. 

“Correct, vitamin K deficiency does increase risk of bleeding and bruising but the levels were healthy so nothing of concern there. I would recommend taking supplements for the time being for your vitamin A, B12 and D as well as your prescribed iron tablets. Overall, everything else was at healthy levels.”

You nod once again, “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll be sure to stay on top of that.”

Nanami leans back and slides his arm around your shoulders before you both stand, taking the report and prescription note and leave the doctor’s office, bidding her goodbye. 

You slip your hand into your husband’s as you walk through the hallway towards the exit. “I have something else you can stay on top of,” he whispers and bumps his hips with yours. 

“Kento!” You whisper at him and lightly smack his firm bicep. 

He lets out a chuckle at your reaction, getting so flustered so easily, “On a serious note, I’m glad that we know now how everything’s going with your vitamin intake. It’s definitely peace of mind,” he says as he guides you outside and towards the pharmacy next door. 

“It is. I wouldn’t have really thought to pursue it myself but I’m grateful you suggested it,” you interlace your fingers through his as you feel gratitude for having him in your life. He’s so caring and also such an adult. Though you laugh about his seriousness sometimes, you’re also grateful that he’s so mindful of things like vitamin intake. 

He ushers you to step inside the pharmacy first — as he always does, ever the gentleman — and you lead the way to the vitamin aisle. Stopping at one section of the many shelves, you peruse the array of vitamins before you, and Nanami is quick to pick one of each that you needed, up. “These have the highest milligrams, so they’ll be the most effective.”

“You’re right,” you nod, and you spot a little pill box, segmented for each day of the week. “Would it make me a total grandma if I got one of these?” You ask your husband, looking to him attentively.  

“Not at all. They can certainly help with keeping a routine of…” a little smirk curls at the corner of his lips, lowering his voice to a hush, “staying on top of things.”

You try not to smile but you can’t help it so you pout instead to hide it, “You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?” You ask rhetorically and he laughs softly. You both grab the appropriate vitamin bottles and carry them to the counter where you also pick up your prescription iron tablets. 

When you get home, you both wash up and change into your comfy home clothes and get started on making lunch together. You sauté some onions as the base of the soup you were making while he chops up some fresh herbs for a tasty couscous salad. “Can you pass me the chilli flakes, my love?” 

He grabs the little spice container and steps over, holding it out for you. You try to take it but he holds onto it and dips his head to kiss your knuckles. It’s a small act but one that makes your heart flutter and your lips curl into a smile. 

Once lunch is had and you’re cleaning up together, he finishes washing up while you put away the leftovers, dancing to the soft music you had playing. 

“I could do with a nap right now,” you yawn, feeling full from lunch. 

He lets out a small laugh, “You definitely need to take those vitamins, darling.“

“I know, I know, doctor’s orders. I will. But I also want to have a little siesta,” you tell him while he dries off his hands, “come nap with me for like 20 minutes. You know how effective it is for our bodies to have a nap midday?”

“I’m well aware, yes,” he smiles and lets you drag him into the bedroom where you crawl into the bed and hold up the comforter. You climb in together and you burrow yourself against him, pushing your leg between his, eyes fluttering shut. 

He rubs your back gently as he settles down himself, fingers starting to trace lazy patterns across your back. “I love you so much, Ken,” you murmur, eyes still closed, “you’re so good to me. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I love you more, honey. You deserve the world, so I’m going to do my best to give it to you,” his soft voice and kind words makes your bottom lip tremble a bit. 

“You do. I want to give you the world too,” you whisper. 

“You are my world,” he affirms. 

“Ugh, stop trying to out-romance me,” you whine quietly and you both laugh softly. 

Sleep overcomes you and you have what was probably one of the top 5 best naps of your life. You wake up to find the sun setting slowly, creating a beautiful orange hue through the room. You stretch like a cat and roll over, finding Nanami sat up and reading a book about Malaysia. 

“Hi, sleepyhead.”

“Hi, Mr. Redbull,” you quip and he chuckles. You tap the book, “You want to go back again?”

“Yes, at some point, I would love that,” he nods and smiles to himself as he reminisces about your honeymoon together there, from which you’d returned 6 months ago. It was incredible there, a truly dreamy place which couldn’t be described as you’d have to see it in person to grasp the beauty. 

“We’ll definitely visit again someday,” you promise and he hums in agreement. 

“Maybe next time, we’ll have children to take there. I bet they’d love the beach,” he says casually, setting the book aside. 

You’d talked about children plenty of times — the suggestion to get blood tests being a preparation for taking that step — but it was the softness of his suggestion, of taking your hypothetical children to one of his favourite places on the planet…it warmed your heart. 

“Definitely. When we have children, we will absolutely take them to Malaysia.”

Later that evening, you find Nanami stood at  the kitchen counter, carefully putting the vitamins into your new pill box. 

You walk over and lean your elbows onto the counter as you watch him. 

Once he’s satisfied that you have one of each vitamin in each segment, he closes it up. A thought clouds your mind and you bite your lip. “Baby, I think I need some more vitamin D,” you tell him with a serious face. 

His brows furrow a little as he looks to you, “I put one vitamin D in each day, honey, that should be more than enough.”

You shake your head. “No, I definitely need more vitamin D,” you sigh exasperatedly and he watches you carefully. 

“Sweetheart, you really don’t need more than one a day,” he explains gently. You almost break character to laugh but you manage to keep a straight face. 

“But what if I want it multiple times a day?” You ask him, eyes glinting with mischief. 

He catches on at this and his face relaxes, eyes becoming hooded, pulling you closer to him. “I see. You do know the risks of taking so much vitamin D, don’t you?” 

“Of course. I’ll turn into the sun,” you muse and he lets out a laugh, lips ghosting over yours. 

“You will certainly be glowing like the sun once I put a baby in you,” he murmurs and you feel a shiver go through your body, straight to your core. 

“Ken…” you sigh softly, hands trailing up his big arms and grasping his triceps as he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. You hum against him as he crowds you against the counter, one hand planted on it and the other coming up to cup your jaw while his lips are locked with yours. 

His thumb gently caresses your cheek, letting out a soft moan against you as you press your tongue against the seam of his lips and push your hips into his. “Hm…turn around, honey.”

Oh. 

You feel your clit throb at the lowness of his voice, his direct order, and how your wetness pools at your core. You break the kiss and he immediately grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head, revealing your bare breasts. He connects your lips briefly again, not being able to help himself from cupping your breast in his hand and teasing your nipple. Reluctantly, he breaks away and guides your hips to turn you around. 

With you bent over the counter, he steps up behind you, his lips trailing over your cheek, down your jaw, and over your shoulder while his hands roam your body, thumbs hooking inside the waistband of your pants and underwear and slowly dragging them down, down, down.  

You feel the air hitting your bare ass and thighs as he pushes your clothing off, letting the bunched fabric fall down the rest of the way from your knees. 

He continues to kiss his way over your back, hands massaging your hips and up your sides to cup both your breasts. The feeling of his hot breath fanning over your skin, and his lips tenderly pressing kisses down your back makes your insides tingle with electricity. “My pretty wife,” he hums as he kisses your lower back and crouches down on the floor behind you, sliding his hands down your sides and hips, over your outer thighs and finally coming to rest on your ass.

He grasps the flesh with a grunt, the sound making you clench. You can’t help but let out soft mewls at the feeling of his large, strong hands groping your ass, his hot lips blazing a trail of fire all the way down. You push your hips back against his hands and he hums appreciatively, spreading your ass and groaning deeply at the sight of the wetness waiting for him. 

“S’this all for me, sweetheart?” He sighs, deciding not to waste another moment and plants his lips onto your lower ones. You let out a gasp at the suddenness of it, being thrown into the deep end, but this — his beautiful, skilled mouth on you — was absolutely not something you’d protest against. 

“O-Oh! Y…mmm…yes, all for you, Ken,” you mewl as you hold onto the counter, feeling his hot tongue lap at your puffy folds. He drags his tongue up and down, gathering your juices and teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. 

He fucking loves this. Loves having his face buried against you, eating you out from behind. 

You find your hips rocking slowly on their own accord, back to meet his sinful tongue, when he sucks on your clit and pulls a lewd moan from you. “A-ah, mmh…” the sound of which makes his cock throb with need. 

The man is a multitasker, you know this. While he’s busy pushing his tongue into your entrance, making you grip the counter tighter, you hear him fumbling with opening his pants. You turn your head to look back and are met with the delicious sight of him fisting his thick cock. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet, honey,” he sighs before he’s pushing his tongue into you again. Your head falls forward as the pleasure takes over your body. He’s tongue fucking you like his life depends on it, groaning against you while he’s fucking his fist at the same time. 

He buries his face against you with a low groan, squeezing his dick, darting his tongue in and out of you before he drags it up over your clit and licks a thick stripe along the cut of you. 

Your legs quake a little at how he’s tending to your body so attentively, but you manage to keep yourself steady. He slides his free hand around you, his fingers locating your clit with expert precision within milliseconds. This action turns you on even more, the arousal rushing through your body and your pussy gushing with wetness because of how well he could map your body. 

He notes the extra wetness on his tongue and he lets out a low hum of approval, slowly circling your throbbing clit with the pads of his fingers. “Oh, you liked that, huh?” He croons against you, taking his fingers away to wrap his lips on your clit and suck attentively. Your gasp and your back arches, one hand automatically going back to thread into his hair. 

“Hhhh…mmph…” you keen, your ability to form proper sentences compromised from your husband’s ministrations on your body. 

“Use your words for me, honey,” he smirks against you as he continues to devour you, lapping, sucking, fucking, and enjoying the delicious taste of you, inching you closer to the edge. 

“Ken…” you whine, “I’m— I’m gonna cum...” You tug on his hair, mussing it up, pushing your hips against him desperately. He becomes sloppier then, and you pant, feeling the mess trickling down your inner thighs. 

He fucks his tongue into you a few more times, and then suddenly the waves of pleasure wash over your body, overwhelming your senses. Your inner walls clench, wetness leaking from you, as you let out dirty moans of Kento’s name. 

He jerks himself off at the sound of you, the feeling of you cumming, but he stops before he can reach his peak. His moans reverberate through you, the vibrations of them only adding to your pleasure; you lean over the counter, catching your breath as he laps your juices up eagerly, not sparing a drop. 

When he’s cleaned you up with his tongue, he kisses his way back up your body, hands roaming over your shorter frame, coming to rest on the softness of your breasts. It’s like he can’t touch you enough, like he wants to touch you everywhere, all at once. You stand back up and lean into him, head falling onto his shoulder so you can kiss him. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your neglected ones sparks the fire in you once again, the butterflies in your tummy stirring to life. 

He slowly turns you to face him while you share deep, long kisses. You grip the hem of his t-shirt and pull it up over his head, his arms lifting to accommodate the swift movement. Your arms slide around his waist and you cling to him as he holds you. “You’d better give me that vitamin D now,” you tell him with a warning tone. 

He releases a soft chuckle, breaking away from you to stretch over the counter and grab your pill box, “They’re right here, hon.”

You flick his nipple in response and he feigns being hurt before both of you laugh. Your joined laughter quietens down however when you wrap your hand around his thick, leaking cock, and pump him slowly while you gaze into his eyes. 

He’d been with you for years, married for half of one, but he knew that he’d never, ever, get tired of that salacious look that you gave him when you wanted him. 

He wets his lips as he returns your longing gaze, and he lets out a quiet, “Fuck, sweetheart…” while you thumb his slit and tease the sensitive underside of his tip. 

Your hand falls away when he crouches down a few inches and lifts you easily, placing you on the kitchen counter. You watch as his cock bobs up and down from this swift movement. Instantly, your legs fall open and you use the heels of your feet to pull him towards you; the need to have him inside you was becoming unbearable. 

You felt the emptiness within you, the deep, carnal desire to have him fill you and stretch you out. 

He crushes his lips against yours again, sighing, “You keep looking at me like that, baby, and I’ll cum too soon.”

You whimper against his lips, feeling him nudging the fat head of his cock along your folds, teasing your swollen bud before trailing down to your quivering entrance that was desperate to be filled. 

His tongue tangles with yours, your hands gripping onto his broad shoulders as he presses his tip into you and slowly pushes his hips forward. 

You bite on his lip, breath catching when he pushes past the ring of resistance. He doesn’t go far before he’s drawing his hips back and then thrusting into you again shallowly. A whine escapes you while he’s working you open on his delicious cock, taking his time to make sure you’re adjusted to his girth. 

He rolls his hips steadily, dipping his head and wrapping his lips around the taut peak of your nipple, sucking eagerly. At this, your cunt greedily sucks him in more and he moans to your skin, fucking into you more, and then he slides all the way home, bottoming out inside your snug walls. Your face twists in pleasure, eyes rolling back in your head. He stays there for a moment, his pubic bone flush against yours. 

“So damn perfect,” he murmurs, and your walls flutter around him in response. This earns a deep groan from him and he draws his hips back and starts to fuck into you harder.

You brows knit together and you inhale sharply as you feel the heavy drag of him inside you, how he pulls out so that only the fat head of him stays inside, and how he thrusts back into you completely, feeding you every inch of his delicious cock.

Your legs are locked around his hips but with each deep thrust from him, your mind becomes hazy and your legs loosen up a little. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he noses your neck and keeps a steady pace, the wet thump, thump, thump of his hips hitting yours filling the kitchen. 

Your mouth falls open and your body becomes a little lax, your breaths coming out shakily as you focus on the pleasure coursing through your body while he impales you on his cock repeatedly. “Feels s-so…so good, baby…making me feel s-so good,” your voice comes out breathy and high pitched, to which his dick twitches while he’s fucking into you. 

He’s thorough in his approach while you hold onto his neck for balance, and he’s stimulating every part of your beautiful body: lips locked, tongues tangled, fingers rolling your hard nipple between them, his other fingers teasing circles on your throbbing clit, and his cock stretching you out so delightfully that you can only let out pornographic moans.

You’re both panting against each other’s lips as he picks up the pace and thrusts into you faster, with abandon. He rests his forehead against yours, cheeks flushed. “God— I fucking love you… n’ I love fucking you…” his low voice, his words, they go straight to your cunt. 

He takes his hands from your nipple and clit, sliding one arm under your waist as he bows over you more, the other hand gripping your hip in a bruising hold. “Ken…” you moan, “you’re gonna m…make me bruise…”

It’s not so much a protest but more a statement. “Damn right I am…you n’ I both know you love when I mark you up,” he husks, his lips connecting to your neck and sucking a dark mark onto your pulse point, bucking his hips into yours harder, eager to make you cum on his cock. 

Your tits bounce from the force of his thrusts, a sight which he goes crazy for. He’s getting closer to the edge, his mind hazy from how your pussy is greedily sucking him in, enveloping him in your tight warmth every time he slides home. 

You mewl, holding onto his shoulder as he ravages your cunt, letting out shaky breaths while you bring your gaze down to watch the  sensuous way his cock would sink into your wet cunt over and over again. You both love watching because it adds to the pleasure, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge from it. 

“Ken…” you moan, bringing your gaze to his at the same time he looks up to meet yours. He almost cums from that so far gone, cockdrunk look in your eyes, but he manages to keep it at bay for a little longer. 

“Look so damn beautiful taking me like this, sweetheart,” he croons, “give it to me, baby. Cum for me.” A few more pounds of his hips and you’re pushed over the edge, like your body was waiting for his instruction. 

You cry out when your orgasm hits you, walls pulsing so tightly around him that he slows down to feel every clench properly. Your legs quake, and you lock them higher up his hips as your body convulses from the strength of your orgasm. 

Wetness coats his lower abdomen— he lives for getting messy with you like so— and he fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own release while he guides you through yours. 

He grabs one of your legs and pushes it up, using it as leverage to fuck into your heat faster. “Cum in me, Ken…wanna make a baby with you,” you sigh, eyes hooded as he pounds into you. 

He felt like an animal in that moment but your breathy voice, your words, the tight grip of your cunt on him suddenly all overwhelms his senses and he falls into the throes of bliss with a loud groan, crashing his lips to yours as he releases his hot ropes inside you, painting your walls white. 

You cling to each other, sharing open mouthed, dirty kisses. Your plush walls milk him dry, and he stays inside you, your juices and his cum seeping out around him as you both catch your breaths. 

“Wanna make a baby, huh…” he pecks your lips a few more times before gazing down at you properly. 

“Mmhmm,” you hum and nod, kissing him again. 

“Hm…we better get more practice in, then.”

You squeal when he picks you up all of a sudden, still inside you, and carries you into your bathroom, quickly turning on the water in the shower and stepping inside with you.  

“Wh— Kent—oh!” You moan the second syllable of his name as he presses you up against the wall and starts to fuck into you again. 

There was something so dirty, so sinful about how he was fucking his cum into you, how insatiable he was from the mere mention of getting you pregnant. 

It’s like a switch had been flipped; you gasp when he takes your legs and pushes them up, pinning you by dangling your legs over the hinge of his arms and holding you in that bent position against the wall with his strong arms. 

The water runs over both of your sweaty bodies, the small enclosure of the shower only accentuating his low grunts and the loud smacks of your hips colliding. He is truly animalistic, rutting his hips into yours, pounding into your cunt desperately, because nothing made him harder, nothing made him more feral for you than the idea of making a family with you. 

You hadn’t had much time to come down from the high of your first orgasm — neither had he — so it’s not long again before another orgasm is creeping up on the both of you. 

“I’m close, Ken, mm…” you clutch onto his broad frame, bringing your lips to his in a needy kiss. 

“Me too, honey,” he pants against your lips, “cum with me.”

The base of his cock grazes your clit and his balls slap against your ass with each punishing thrust into you, and you let out a cry from the sudden intensity of the orgasm that overcomes you. 

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” Kento’s voice is strained as he keeps fucking into you but his hips stutter because your pussy is gripping him so tightly he can’t even think straight. 

Tears sting at your eyes because you’ve cum so hard, and when he sees this, he feels himself start to cum again. This time, he slows down, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he buries his face into your neck and releases his hot load into your waiting cunt. 

“Honey…” he breathes out, and you run your nails gently over his muscled back, kissing his temple. “I love you so much,” he mumbles tiredly, spent, but knowing he couldn’t put you down yet because you wouldn’t be able to stand. 

You cup his face in your hands as you sigh contently, and bring his face to yours to kiss him once again, “I love you more, you animal.”

He lets out a quiet laugh to your lips, “Can you blame me?”

*

It’s about 6 weeks later that you find yourself sat on the toilet, peeing on a couple of tests. There had been a noticeable change in your body, you felt with certainty that something was different. That and, of course, your period being late. 

You finish peeing and clean up after putting the tests on the counter. You dry your hands and inhale a deep breath while you wait, peeking but not expecting anything because the time hadn’t finished yet. 

But there it was. Two lines in BOLD, on the cheap one, and an affirmative ‘Pregnant’ on the other. You blink at the confirmation and let out a laugh; you’d heard about this before, how tests can show up quicker than expected if the pregnancy hormone is extremely high. He had knocked you up, alright. 

You’re elated. His dream, your dream, of having a family, it was becoming reality. You slip out of the bathroom and into the living room, where he was reading. 

 “I think I need to get some other vitamins, my love,” you tell him as you sit next to him and slide your arms around his neck, kissing his shoulder over his shirt. 

He brings his gaze to you. “But the doctor said that your levels for everything else were healthy, sweetheart…?”

He sees the way that your eyes sparkle and he relaxes a little. “Well…I think we need to revisit the doctor. I’m going to need some folic acid.”

He blinks at you; it clicks immediately. The joy that spreads across his expression is undeniable, “Honey…you’re…you’re pregnant?” 

Read the sequel, Pumpkin, here <3

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