#just a labour of pure love

[sluggggish]

coming out of hiding just to put my two cents in (based on hours and hours of seeing a lot more than I should've) Dave and Chris are definitely correct, Johnny has said his isn't that big and based on very little evidence it seems to be correct. Jeff I'm not so sure but I bet it's average? but the bde is so strong so he's actually in the right place. everyone else is more or less correct (why do I have an opinion on this good god)

Gadies and lentlemen it is done (mine is based off nudes and radio bam, the fbi wants me for my history now) @godsworstson @endless-shrimp-tour thank you for tributing and helping, you brave soldiers

[readwritealldayallnight]

“I just can’t believe it Si…”

“I know, lovie. Me either.”

“They’re so perfect…” you mumble dreamily, only half aware that you’re still going on about the sight in front of you, an overjoyed smile stretched across your lips as you lean back against Simon’s strong, muscular chest. He has his arms wrapped around your middle, chin resting atop of your head as he also gazes down before you both. “I can’t believe we actually made them. We made these perfect little things…”

“Dunno about we, I think you’re givin’ me too much credit there.” He admits, adjusting to press a quick kiss into your hair, craning his head so that now his cheek is smushed against the crown of your head.

“Don’t sell yourself short mister,” You laugh, leaning your head back to try and catch his eye, reaching a hand up behind you to run your fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp, earning a satisfied hum in return, feeling the vibration of it going through his chest into you. “You definitely were a part of the process, Simon. Couldn’t exactly have planted those seeds myself.” You add with a wink.

“Oh I remember, love, I was there.” He chuckles as well, his eyes meeting yours, the overwhelming feeling of pure contentment radiating off you both, the love he has for you reflected back at him in your own shining gaze. “You that did all the hard work though. Growin’ ‘em til they were ready.”

“Yeah but they’re our babies, Si.” You insist, his grip tightening around you at yours words.

“That they are. That they are.” He agrees, glancing down at the baskets set before you.

A moment passes where you continue to hold onto one another, enjoying the bliss that is existing alongside each other, feeling the other breath, heart beats falling into rhythm, both simply appreciating the view in front of you. Though you can’t see him behind you, Simon’s smile is wavering, unsure how to pose his next question, not wanting to sound as though he’s making fun of you.

“We are going to use them at some point though, right?”

“Eventually.”

“M’not sure how long berries last, lovie. And Johnny’s countin’ on that pie we said we’d-”

“Simon,” you cut him off. “Johnny’s damn desert can wait. I’m admiring my children.” You decide, casting another glance towards the baskets full of fresh blueberries, strawberries and raspberries you’d spent so long growing, the very literal fruits of your labour, the first successful pickings from the garden you and Simon planted outside your new home.

“Oh, so they’re your children now, are they?” He teases.

“If you’re talking about eating them so soon then yes, I will take custody.” You joke right back.

“Why’re you so gorgeous when you’re bossy?”

“Probably a side effect of the military, my love.”

“Well maybe we can look at having me plant a different kind of seed soon, aye? Kind that takes about nine months to grow?”

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Keep That Crown 

Ask: No. 19 during a dystopian tv game show where contestants have to do ridiculous physical challenges while fully dilated and ready to push. Last one to fully give birth wins fabulous prizes. 

Thank you Anon, this is the most amazingly ridiculous prompt ever and was a joy to write. The story is completely satire, unrealistic, and purely for entertainment purposes. Special thanks to the talented @exponenshul for writing the third challenge, and to @gravid-transluna for being my incredible beta. You’re both amazing humans! 💜 (8k words)

Prompt: “I can’t stop it… nnghhh I’m pushingg!”

~•~

"Goooooood evening guys and girls. It's Saturday night, we're live, and welcome to another episode of..." "Keep That Crown!" Cheers the studio audience.

The TV presenter, Danny, continues. "For those of you who are new to our little corner of television, this is a game show where we take five mothers-to-be and put them to the test in a number of household challenges. Sounds easy enough, right? Well, the catch is that each mum-to-be is in active labour...and fully dilated! Whoever can complete all five challenges without giving birth has a chance to win our grand prize, and the last one standing will win a whopping £100,000.00!"

"Oooooooh." The audience awes on cue.

"Now let's meet tonight's contestants." Danny says with a staged smile, his overly white teeth glinting under the spotlights. Walking across the studio floor the camera pans to five heavily pregnant women, each standing behind a podium displaying their name. "Contestant number one is Mandy. She's 41 weeks pregnant with her first baby, a girl. How are you doing tonight Mandy?" The presenter asks casually.

"Ooof- I'm good thanks Danny. Focused and ready for the challenges. It's my first baby so hoping that works in my favour... hooooo...." A contraction cuts off Mandy's fighting talk and she grips the podium and hangs her head, panting heavily.

"First time mums are usually the most successful at this game, so good luck, Mandy! Next up we have Anna." The TV presenter walks across to the next pregnant woman, who's holding her contracting belly and swaying her hips side to side. "Anna is also a first time mum-to-be, 39 weeks pregnant with a baby boy. Do you think you're going to win tonight, Anna?"

"Mnnnghh I'm gonna g-give it my best shot." Anna says timidly with a grimace and a forced smile.

"Contestant number 3 is Becky. Becky is 37 and a half weeks pregnant with her third baby. Some of you eagle eyed viewers may recognise Becky from her second pregnancy and birth. You were unsuccessful last time, managing only two rounds before the head popped out during the dishwasher challenge. Reckon you can make it to the final round this time, Becky?"

"I hope so... hooohooo.... But ohh, this labour came on quicker than expected.... Mnnnnngh, three hours from first contraction to full dilation. But I'm hoping this little one can stay in a bit longer." Becky's cheeks were flushed pink and the sweat glistened on her forehead. Her tight leggings showed just how wide her gait was and every couple of minutes her knees bounced.

"Well, good luck to you Becky." Danny said before turning directly towards the camera. "Looks like she's going to need it." He added with a laugh and a wink.

"Now, next up we have Claudia. Another first time mum, 40 weeks pregnant exactly." The brunette was in the midst of a contraction and merely waved at the camera before holding on to the podium and groaning under her breath.

"And finally we have Niamh. Niamh is 37 weeks pregnant and this is a first for Keep That Crown - she's pregnant with twins!" Danny announced to a cheer from the audience. "You caused quite the discussion with our producers Niamh, as you're pregnant with two lovely healthy babies, we had to decide what the rules would be. Now, even though you're carrying two, you will need to keep both babies from being born in order to qualify for the final round. Reckon you can do that?"

"Definitely, Danny!" Niamh answered confidently. "Twins run in my family, but so do long labours. I'm here to win!"

She planted her hands on her hips and grinned. Her bump was bigger and lower than any of the other contestants and yet she seemed the most relaxed and sure of herself.

"That's the spirit Niamh!" Danny said. "Okay, now that we've met the contestants, let's start the challenges!!" He walked over to a new part of the stage, which was set up like a mini grocery store. The contestants followed, albeit more slowly.

"The first challenge is our iconic grocery shop challenge." Danny explained to the five labouring mothers. "Each of you have been given a shopping list of 7 different items. Your task is to go through our pretend supermarket, collect all the items on your list, and make it back to your podiums. You can use either a basket or the trolly to carry your items, but all items must be back here before the time is up. And remember, no matter how much you want to push, you just have to..."

"Keep that crown!" Shouts the studio audience.

"On your marks, get set.... GO!"

Niamh and Becky were first off the mark and waddled quickly towards the pretend supermarket. They both grabbed a trolly and rushed up and down the aisles of food, searching feverishly for their items. Anna and Mandy were quick to follow, and they chose the handheld basket option. Claudia, however, hadn't left her original position.

"Claudia, you need to move if you're going to collect all your items before the time runs out..." Danny tried to encourage the mum-to-be, but she was groaning loudly and gripping the podium tight.

"Ohhhhhh god. It's so low.... The pressure...." She whimpered.

"Don't push, Claudia. You've got to keep that crown!"

She staggered forward on unsteady legs and eventually reached the supermarket trolly. Barely making it down one aisle, Claudia stopped and squatted, holding on to the cart with a white-knuckled grip.

"Looks like Claudia is already pushing...that was fast. She'd better hope the baby doesn't come out any further or she's not even going to make it through the first challenge!" Danny narrates the scene whilst the camera follows each woman around the store.

Anna and Mandy were throwing items into their baskets, rushing quickly between contractions. Niamh and Becky had already got the first few items in their trolley’s. Whilst Niamh was ploughing ahead, Becky was struck by a forceful contraction and was bracing herself against an aisle. The third-time mother had one hand between her legs and she was mooing slightly under her breath.

Claudia managed to get one item in her trolley but soon gave up completely, crumpling to the floor on all fours and actively pushing her baby out. The bulge in her leggings could be seen appearing and then slipping back again.

"And Niamh is the first one back! Impressive with her twin-filled bump. She's closely followed by Anna and Mandy." Danny joined the returning mothers who were bent over and panting back at their stands. "Becky is still working her way around the store, but seems to be struggling. And- uh oh, Claudia!"

The camera cuts to Claudia on all fours by the frozen foods, the distinctive outline of a fully birthed head now protruding her clothing.

"Aaaand we have our first birth, ladies and gentlemen. Unfortunately, Claudia was not able to get through the first challenge and is now delivering her baby in aisle 3!" Danny enthusiastically announced.

The cameras kept their focus on Claudia as she pushed and pushed, but cut back to the TV host when the medical team went over to undress the birthing mother and help deliver the baby.

The sound of a baby crying filled the studio, and the show went to commercial break.

~•~

"Welcome back to Part 2 of Keep That Crown! We have four ladies left in the competition with just as many challenges still to go." Danny said while giving an award-winning smile to the camera.

"Next up is our infamous dishwasher challenge. Looking at you, Becky!" The presenter jokes and the camera cuts to the labouring mother in question. Becky is sweating and holding her extremely low baby bump and rolls her eyes.

Danny continues explaining to the audience at home. "In this challenge, our mums-to-be are tasked with unloading a dishwasher. Now, I've never been pregnant myself so at first, I didn't fully understand why this task would be a challenge. However, since working on this show, I've come to realise just how difficult it is for a heavily pregnant woman to load and unload a dishwasher. It may sound easy, folks, but this challenge has got the better of quite a few mums over the years. Not to mention our current contestant, Becky."

Danny, followed by the camera, travels across the studio to talk to the mums. "Now last time Becky, when you were birthing your second child, this was the challenge that got you. Do you think you'll fare any better tonight?" The presenter asked.

"I don't know Danny... mnghhhh... this baby is pretty desperate to- ugh!- come out." Becky's hands were holding her bump as she swayed side to side, knees dipping whenever she grunted.

"It certainly sounds that way!" Danny's eyebrows raised at the deep groans coming from this third-time-mum. "Now, if you could all make your way over to your allocated dishwashers."

Danny followed the women to the dishwasher setup and began to instruct. "Each of you has an identical dishwasher filled with crockery, cutlery and glassware. Your task is to get all the items out of the machine and stacked on top. You can start on the sound of the buzzer. Three... two... one..."

A klaxon is heard blaring across the studio and the music starts.

Each of the four contestants seemed to approach the challenge in a different way, and Danny began commentating on the challenge as it unfolded.

"First-time mums Mandy and Anna, each carrying one baby and having the smallest bumps of the group, have gone for the regular, forward bend. Mandy is attempting the bottom tray first, starting with the plates and crockery in the most cumbersome of the locations, whereas Anna has decided to tackle the glassware on the top tray, perhaps waiting to build herself up for the more difficult lower level.

"And Becky, our darling returning mum-to-be, has clearly made a strategy after last time. She's taken a new approach of kneeling on the ground beside the dishwasher, picking up plates and putting them on top of the machine. There'll be less physical movement with this choice, but whether her strategy pays off - time will tell." "And lastly we have our mum of twins Niamh. With the biggest belly, carrying two very healthy babies, doesn't have the option of the forward bend and is clearly not sure about getting down onto her knees. What is she going to do ladies and gentlemen?.... Oh, wow. That's a risky move from Niamh!"

The expectant mum of twins was rather nimbly dropping into a deep squat, her obscenely large belly hanging low between her jackknifed thighs and brushed the ground. Collecting a few plates and holding them against her bump in one arm, she pulls herself back to standing to place them above the machine. Seconds later, she's squatting again, collecting the side plates and bowls.

"Wow. Our Irish beauty Niamh is flying ahead in this challenge, but her method is risky and we have never ever seen it used successfully before." Danny's tone showed he was impressed.

Becky had managed to unload half of the bottom tray before she started to obviously struggle. Her knees slide wider on the studio floor, another contraction tightening up her bump and contorting it into a hard round ball. Bracing the tops of her thighs her hips sunk low to the ground and she grunted long and deep.

"Oh no!" Danny cried out. "Looks like Becky is pushing again. Her third baby is eager to join us."

The camera zooms in on the labouring woman; her face red and splotchy with the effort of birth. She was panting and groaning heavily, and from the low angle of the camera, the bulge in her leggings was undeniable. Shouts began to arise from the studio audience. "Don't push!" "Keep that crown!"

"Come on Becky, this challenge bested you last time- don't let it happen again! Keep that crown, mumma!" Danny encouraged.

The third time mum couldn't stop pushing, so in desperation she placed a hand between her thighs to stop the baby coming out any further. Becky grunted forcefully again into her palm and when the contraction was over and her hand removed, the head still appeared to be at a full crown inside her clothing, but was no longer moving. Becky exhaled, shook her head, and continued to remove the remaining items in her dishwasher.

"Anna is flying ahead in this challenge, closely followed by Niamh - those twins seem happy to stay in her belly." Danny observed. "...But it looks like Mandy is starting to struggle."

The soon to be mum was bent over the dishwasher, bracing her thighs and circling her hips, all thoughts of the challenge momentarily forgotten. Her heavy belly squished up tight, contracting forcefully and trying to evict its occupant. She whimpered and wailed as her baby sunk lower and lower, stretching her wide, desperate to be born.

"Uh oh, looks like she's struggling to keep that baby in. The question is.... Will she push?" Danny teased joyfully, adding drama to the already chaotic scenes.

Mandy could be seen muttering to herself under her breath.... Don't push don't push don't push... And yet her efforts were in vain, as the labouring mother soon dropped into a deep squat and bore down, groaning loudly.

"Mandy- hooooo... no! Don't p-push!!" Anna tried to encourage her fellow contestant, breathing heavily as she placed her final item on top of the dishwasher completing the challenge.

"Nnngghhhhh... I can't stop it! I'm pushing!!" Mandy cried, letting out a primal grunt. The bulge between her open legs got bigger and bigger as she pushed, the baby slipping further between her folds and into her tight leggings.

"Aaaaand Anna is the first to complete the challenge!" Danny announces loudly to the studio. "But it looks like we have yet another mother falling at the dishwasher hurdle. Mandy, that baby is almost out.... If the head comes fully out, you are out of the competition."

"Oh god! No..... it's coming out!!!!" Mandy groaned, her body working of its own accord, bearing down and pushing the giant head through her opening. The unmistakable cry of relief that followed told everyone in the studio that the baby's head had been born.

"That leaves three remaining contestants; Anna has finished the task, closely followed by Niamh. Darn, I was sure all that squatting was going to result in a birth- but well done to Niamh! Who do we have left? Oh yes, Becky." Danny smiled and walked beside the labouring mother as she tried to complete the task. "How are we doing Becky?"

"Mnnghhh!" Becky apparently could not speak, putting all her focus and energy on the two tasks - unloading the dishwasher and not birthing her baby. Her knees were wide as she knelt on the floor, the baby's head way beyond a full crown but not quite fully born. She huffed as she picked up the last remaining item, her body trembling as she reached up to place the small plate on the top of the machine, the crockery clinking as she shook whilst stretching up, desperately trying to get that final item in place and complete the challenge that had previously beaten her.

"YES!!!" She cried when the plate slipped onto the pile of clean dishes, and panted heavily with relief. Whoops and cheers rang out from the audience.

"You did it!!!! Well done Becky." Danny exclaimed. "Now, let's go to commercial break, giving our mothers a well-earned rest-" ...the sound of Mandy grunting and pushing in the background briefly interrupted the TV host... "-and also to let Mandy birth her baby girl. Be back in five, folks!"

~•~

Shortly thereafter, Danny and the contestants were lined up for the next challenge, each woman now standing in front of a wardrobe.

"Welcome back to Keep That Crown, where we've had an exciting first two rounds!" Danny announced. "Let's take a moment to check up on our contestants before we move on, shall we?"

He walked over to Anna, who was holding out strong, but definitely getting tired. She was sweating profusely and cradling her low, heavy belly.

"So, what are your thoughts on the challenges so far, Anna?" Danny asked.

"Umm...hmm." Anna muttered, obviously not focused on answering questions. "It's tough. But...hngggh...I think I can h-hold on."

"Let's hope!" Danny said, striding over to the next contestant. "And how are you feeling, Niamh?"

"Feeling good!" Niamh proclaimed, patting her belly. She was breathing heavier and a few beads of sweat could be detected on her forehead, but otherwise she was looking fine. "Ready for another round."

Danny nodded. "Well, that certainly was an impressive feat you pulled off in the last challenge!" He chuckled, then continued on to the last remaining contestant. "And, Becky..."

Becky was standing shamelessly in a somewhat bow-legged position, a massive bulge still in her leggings, as big as before and dripping fluid through her clothes. Surely she was only one small push away from birthing the head. Her whole body was practically shaking from the effort of keeping her baby in.

"...I'm just surprised that baby hasn't budged at all," Danny said frankly.

Becky grunted and her jaw clenched. "Just...get on with the- huuuhh- challenge," She grumbled, stowing one hand between her trembling thighs.

Danny returned to his side of the stage. "All right, time for round three! This one is the Dress-Up challenge. Each contestant has been provided with a wardrobe. Inside is a dress which you must change into, as if you were getting ready for your very own baby shower! Once that's complete, you'll have to return the dress and change back into your regular clothes."

The contestants gave each other exasperated looks. Getting changed is hard work for a pregnant woman even on a normal day... doing it while deep in labour was going to be tough.

"On your marks...get set...go!!" Danny hollered.

The women turned toward their wardrobes and opened them up. They each had an identical dress, with loose, thin cloth that was sure to fit their maternal bodies. Getting it on would be the hard part.

Becky grabbed the dress right away, but she looked over and saw the women next to her starting to take off their tops and bottoms. She looked over at Danny. "Uhh...do we need to strip down to our underwear for this challenge...?"

"Yes, that's usually part of getting changed..." Danny said with a chuckle. The audience laughed along with him.

Becky gulped. "Nngh...o-okay..."

Niamh had already removed her top and was shimmying her leggings down over her hips, leaving her in only a bra and panties.

Anna followed suit, but had to stop before getting her shirt over her head due to a contraction. She doubled over and groaned, gripping her belly. "Oohhh...hoo, God, I dunno if I can do this..."

Meanwhile, Becky was still looking between herself and the dress, only slowly starting to lift her shirt up as her baby's crowning head continued to burden her. It seemed the stress was getting to her.

Niamh sat her clothes off to the side and grabbed the dress. She paused for a contraction, but it barely seemed to phase her. She bent over a bit and exhaled deeply before quickly righting herself.

Anna was now struggling with getting off her leggings. She'd chosen to wear extra tight leggings, hoping they would help hold in the baby in an emergency. But now, after working up a sweat, the fabric clung to her. She was able to roll them down past her hips, but another contraction struck. She squatted just a tad, on shaky legs. "Mmmggghh come on!"

Beside her, Niamh had pulled the dress up over her head, knowing that was the only way it was fitting around her big twin bump.

Becky had only just removed her shirt. She was standing there in her bra and tented-out leggings, clutching her firm belly and muttering to herself.

"Becky?" Danny called out, not sure what was going on. "You should strip down a little quicker if you want to carry on with the challenge..."

Becky gulped again, then nodded. "O-okay..."

Anna had gotten her leggings to her ankles, but as she tried to kick them off, her belly cramped again and she fell forward onto her knees. She grimaced and cried out. "Nooooo aghhh I can feel it coming! I-I don't wanna puuush!"

"Folks, Anna says she doesn't want to push...but will her body agree?!" Danny wondered aloud. The audience focused their attention on the poor labouring woman.

Anna clenched her fists, grunting through the contraction. Now in just her panties, it was all the more clear that she was starting to bulge from the baby's head...

Suddenly, a gasp from the audience. "Wait...what's that? What's she wearing?!"

People turned their heads toward the cause of her outcry. The TV cameras pointed toward Becky, and Danny's jaw dropped when he saw what was happening.

Becky had gotten her leggings down to her knees but the act had revealed her secret weapon. Beneath her leggings and over her underwear, she was wearing a thick leather belt with material that went over her crotch.

Murmurs began to rise in the audience. "Is that... a chastity belt?" "For real? Is that allowed?"

Becky blushed, both from embarrassment and exertion.

Danny was flabbergasted. "Well, I've never seen this, folks...Becky was wearing a leather chastity belt the whole time!"

More audience comments. "Wow, how did she hide that?" "No wonder she was able to hold that baby in!"

"Now, as we know, cheating or giving yourself any unfair advantage is strictly against the rules..." Danny said solemnly. "So, I'm afraid that means I'm going to have to disqualify you from the competition, Becky."

Cameras zoomed in as tears welled in Becky's eyes. "I'm...sorry," she whimpered. "I just...wanted to win so badly this time...but- hnnnngggaaah!"

She was cut off as another contraction hit her. She fell to her knees, and it was clear she was pushing as hard as she could. But no matter how hard she pushed, the baby's head couldn't fully emerge with the leather in the way. She groaned heavily. "Gghh...but...I give up! I'm done! Someone- nngngghhh- just get this belt off of me! The baby needs to come OUT!"

The medics rushed over while the studio audience reeled from the chaos. The cameras turned back to Danny, who was still somewhat in shock. "Well, that was certainly something, folks! We have only two contestants remaining, now. Let's see how they're doing."

Neither Niamh nor Anna let themselves be too distracted by what transpired- they had more important things to focus on. Niamh had fully put on her dress and was taking a minute to pose in it for the cameras. Anna had resisted the urge to push for the time being, and was now grabbing her own dress. She adorned it in a very stiff manner, trying not to move around too much and risk wanting to bear down again.

Niamh removed her dress with ease, but as she was reaching for her original clothes again, a contraction gripped her. This time, she leaned against her wardrobe and groaned, rubbing her belly. She turned her head down and winced, and it looked like she may have finally been starting to falter.

"What are you feeling, Niamh?" Danny asked, trying to sound engaged again after the previous incident. "Hang on, you're almost there!"

"Mmghh...not pushing yet, Danny!" Niamh said, returning to her confident demeanour. She grabbed her clothes and stood back up fully.

Anna had gotten her dress on, but was hunched over again, cradling her swell. "Hooo...gghh...it wants to come out...s-so bad..." She glanced over at Danny. "Can I just...nngggh...keep the dress on?"

"The challenge isn't complete until you change back into your regular clothes!" Danny insisted. Anna groaned and began trying to strip the dress off.

Niamh was once more working at a surprisingly fast pace. With her dress cast aside, she was able to quickly get her clothes back on. It took a bit of time to wrestle her shirt back over her big bump, but once it was on, she raised her arms in victory. The audience cheered.

"It looks like Niamh has completed the challenge! That just leaves Anna- will she make it?" Danny announced.

Anna now had her shirt back on and was gripping her leggings in one hand, but she was riding through another contraction. She leaned on her arms against the wardrobe, her hips angled back.

"Ooohh...ooh, no, baby...nnggghh!" The labouring woman moaned. She tensed up, and her panties bulged out just slightly. The baby was starting to crown. "Guh...I just...gotta get these leggings back on..."

After a few rounds together and only two contestants left, the audience was getting invested. They began to chant, "Go! Go! Keep that crown!"

Mustering her strength, Anna bent down and started to put on her leggings. She was sweating, and it took a great deal of effort to pull the fabric up around her shaky legs. She grunted and panted, trying to keep her legs together long enough to get the leggings over her thighs and hips, even though she desperately wanted to spread them and push.

After a couple minutes of struggle, Anna was finally able to hike her leggings up tight around her waist. She felt between her legs and gave a small sigh of relief, knowing that there was more of a barrier over the emerging head now.

Danny clapped along with the audience. "Well done, Anna! That's round three done. Let's take a quick break and set up for the fourth challenge!"

~•~

“Welcome back to Keep That Crown.” Danny said straight to camera with his best showbiz smile. “If you are just joining us you have missed one hell of an episode so far; three babies born, a set of twins still on the way and our first case of cheating by chastity belt. You certainly won’t get all that on any other show!” 

The camera zooms out and reveals Danny is standing between two heavily pregnant women. “We have two mums-to-be left in the competition - the lovely Anna on my left, expecting a little boy, and the incredible Niamh on my right, who is carrying twins. Now girls, we’re over half-way through the competition now and it’s just the two of you left. How are you feeling Anna?” 

Standing behind her podium Anna pants heavily, her face flushed, gripping her belly and forcing a smile. “It’s— it’s definitely getting tougher. Hooooo… it’s so hard not to p-push….” Her feeble voice whimpers with another contraction and Danny takes the cue and turns his attention to Niamh. 

“And Niamh, you have been storming through these challenges, and you are carrying two babies in there.” He nods and pats Niamh’s obscenely large belly drooping from her hips. “Have you been struggling to resist the urges to push as well?” 

“Well having two of them in there certainly adds a level of difficulty but… mnnnhhh… it’s been okay so far. Just need to breathe through those u-urges…” Niamh’s confident words ring out across the studio but her knees bend subtly, her hands cupping the underside of her gravid swell as one of the baby’s head sinks and presses even lower. 

“There are two more challenges to go. Let’s hope you both can make it through round four. For this challenge each of you will be given a baby doll, your task will be to change the baby’s nappy, dress the baby, and get them into the pram. Don’t worry Niamh, unlike real life you don’t have to do this twice. You each get one baby.” 

The Irish mum laughed through gritted teeth, trying to keep her cool through the increasing contractions. 

“If you two lovely ladies follow me.” Danny instructed, walking the labouring mothers to a new corner of the television studio. Both mothers were walking more and more bow-legged by the minute, but followed silently behind the host. 

“As you can see there are three parts to this challenge; nappy change, dressing baby, and the pram. And I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking “Oh but Danny, you’ve forgotten to set up the prams” but we haven’t.” The TV host smirked to the camera and the audience at home. “Prams these days are so nifty, collapsing into the smallest space to fit easily into the boot of your cars. You will have to work out how to open the pram in order to safely strap your baby doll into the seat.” 

Niamh nodded in understanding, her eyes already analysing the pram in question and its potential latches. Anna meanwhile looked hesitant, nervous, holding her belly and swaying her hips in rapid movements to try and alleviate the relentless pressure between them. 

“Right, Anna you stand here. And Niamh you stand here.” Danny ushered the labouring women to their respective stations for the challenge. “Any questions?” 

“C-can we get any h-help with the pram? Like a partner?” Anna stuttered, trying to steady her breath and her spasming womb. 

“I’m afraid no help is allowed. You have to do all parts of this challenge by yourself. And you can’t leave the baby on the changing mat when you set up the pram, they could roll off, so you must carry them and put them in the pram.” 

Anna paled briefly, looking like she might faint or throw up. 

“On your marks… get set… go!!” Danny cheered and the tense but upbeat music of the challenge sounded around the studio. 

It was neck-and-neck through the first part of the challenge, with both Niamh and Anna confidentially removing the nappy from the toy baby and wrapping a new one over the bottom half of the doll. They weren’t competing for the quickest time, they just had to complete the challenge from start to finish, but even without the time pressure the urgency was clear from the expressions of both women. They wanted this challenge done so they could be one step closer to birthing their babies. 

Unsurprisingly, Niamh finished the nappy change first. The Irish mother was already an audience favourite and steaming ahead in this game. However, before she could pick up the baby clothes to dress the doll her eyes suddenly widened and she curled forward over her large twin-filled belly, gripping the edge of the wooden change table in a death grip. 

“Mmmghhh— oh god!!!!” Niamh groaned loudly as her belly visibly contracted and squashed her babies lower towards their exit. “Fuck…. I can f-feel a head….hoohoohoo…” 

“Oh no, looks like our fan-favourite is starting to struggle.” Danny said excitedly. 

Groaning deeply. Niamh squeezed her grip on the changing table and screwed her eyes shut. “Nngh—! The pressure—” the Irish mother grunted and her knees dipped and widened. 

Seeing her competition struggling, Anna bit her lip through the contraction and quickly pulled the clothing onto her doll and finished the first and second part of the challenge in rapid time. As she stepped towards the pram, the toy baby in arms, it was clear that Anna was racing against more than just her competitor. Her hand lowered, trembling with the effort of denying her instincts, and felt the partially crowned head. “Come on baby…. Just a little bit longer.” Her quiet words to her child were picked up on the microphone and an encouraging cheer erupted from the audience. 

With one arm holding the fake baby, Anna had to work out how to open the pram single-handed. Huffing her way through contractions, red-faced and sweating, Anna pulled and twisted the handle but the pram remained in its collapsed state. 

Niamh meanwhile had survived the aggressive contraction but in her desperation had clamped a hand between her thighs to try and keep herself from pushing. She was now attempting to dress the baby one-handed which wasn’t very successful. 

“Niamh, you’re going to have to work with both hands if you want to keep your winning streak.” Danny said to the contestant over the audience's cheers. 

“But— but it feels like the baby is slipping o-out….” Niamh was frazzled, overcome with the sensations of birth and her cool confidence was fast unravelling. 

“Uh oh— Niamh says the baby is slipping out. What does she need to do ladies and gentlemen?” Danny asked the excitable studio audience who responded with a chorus of “KEEP THAT CROWN!” 

“Ooohhhhhh…. Danny!!! The pram… it just w-won’t o-open!!!!” Anna shouted and the camera pans around to find her on her knees beside the collapsed contraption. The doll was wedged in an elbow so she could use both hands and she was frustratingly pulling and squeezing and twisting every inch of the pram trying desperately to unlock and open it. 

“They do open Anna. They just have a little… knack to them.” Danny winked at the camera before it panned out to show both women struggling to open their prams while simultaneously crowning with their unborn babies. 

“Jesus, who the fuck designed this thing?!” Niamh cursed as she pulled the handle expecting it to expand but grunted with frustration when it didn’t. The Irish mum-to-be had stuffed the toy doll down her top after dressing it, wedging it under her shirt between her breasts and belly in order to use both hands on the final part of this challenge. 

“Ohhhhh god… this baby wants o-ouuttt….” Anna rocked on hands and knees, momentarily abandoning her pram and putting all her efforts into not giving birth. 

Niamh wasn’t looking much better, grunting and occasionally placing her hands between her thighs when her body automatically pushed. 

“This is going to be a close one ladies and gentlemen. Looks like both Anna and Niamh are pushing and it’s going to be a battle of willpower to see who makes it through this challenge.” 

“Mmngghhh….. no— don’t come out—!” Anna grunted, pulling the waistband of her leggings up and making the fabric taut and unforgiving at the crotch, creating a barrier against the emerging head. 

“Oh! Oh! I’ve got it!!” Niamh cried, finding the switch that when pressed allowed the pram to fully expand. “Anna… it’s on the left, by the l-logo…” Niamh panted as she pulled the fake baby out from under her top and almost threw it into the seat, quickly buckling the baby into the straps and clamping her hands between her thighs once more before the next contraction could strike. 

Anna scrambled on her knees, searching for the latch Niamh had mentioned. The pressure between her hips was building, the baby certainly at a full crown in her underwear. “Ohhhh god…. I need to push….” Rocking on her knees Anna flailed her hands over the pram and with a cry of relief found the button and the pram popped open. Placing her fake baby in the seat and buckling it in, tears fell from Anna’s eyes as she trembled against the raging waves of her labour. 

“Wow! Excellent work ladies; you have both completed the fourth challenge.” Danny announced, genuinely impressed that both contestants were still in the game. “Let’s take a quick break and we will be back with the fifth and final challenge. Who will keep that crown, and who will fall at the last hurdle? See you in five!” 

~•~

“Welcome back to the final part of Keep That Crown, the only game show that’ll have you pushing babies instead of buttons. As you may have guessed, we are getting in the Christmas spirit for the fifth and final challenge.” Danny wiggles his head slightly and the camera pans out to reveal a red and white Santa hat on top of his perfectly styled hair. “We decided to change things up as the holiday season approaches and we have a festive final challenge for you this week. Don’t worry folks, it is a relatively simple task, but… doing it whilst deep in the throes of labour?…” The wide and wicked grin from the TV presenter shines bright across the studio right into the television screens to all the people at home. “This may be our toughest challenge to date.”

As Danny continued talking to the camera the distinctive sounds of groaning and heavy breathing in the background grew louder. Danny walks across the studio, followed by the camera, and stands beside the two remaining contestants who were both now dressed up as Mrs Santa Claus. In hourglass silhouettes, the red velvet cinched at the waist but stretched tight across their pregnant bellies, the hem finished with luscious white fur. The dresses were short, barely covering their hips, allowing a clear view of the tight leggings underneath. Niamh’s hands were still clamped between her thighs as she sweated profusely, panting erratically. While Anna was groaning, her hands splayed wide across the velvet surface of her belly as if she could just hold the baby inside. 

“Ladies, I see you’re both dressed for the season.” Danny said cheerfully but his enthusiasm was not reciprocated. Anna’s face was blotchy and flushed as she held back her urges, sweat rolling down the side of her cheeks. Whereas Niamh looked fiery and frustrated, her knees dipping every few seconds, hands clamped firm at her crotch as she gritted “Get-on-with-it-!” 

Danny put his hands up in mock-surrender “Okay, okay. Let’s get on with the final task…. The Christmas Tree challenge!” In a corner of the studio there were two large Christmas trees, over 10ft in height, and both were completely bare. Beside each tree was a box filled with all manner of decorations from lights and tinsel, to beads and baubles. “Niamh, Anna, your challenge is simple; to decorate the Christmas tree. Your Christmas trees must be completely decorated, from the lowest branches all the way to the highest. Your tree must have at least 3 different types of decorations and it must have the star on the very top.” 

Two assistants on the show briefly came into shot, each placing a step ladder beside the trees and promptly running off stage. The ladders were clearly for the women to use in order to get to the very top of the Christmas tree. Anna visibly gulped with fear, while Niamh was staring at the floor very obviously pushing against her hand. 

“I would usually speak with each of you before the challenge, but erm, I’m guessing neither of you are up for chit chat..?” Danny asked with a laugh and got a grunting response from the Irish mother-to-be. “Okay then. Let’s dive into the challenge. On your marks, get set, GO!” 

Immediately Niamh waddled bow-legged and determined towards her tree, carefully removing one hand from between her legs and grabbing the set of Christmas lights from her box. Staggering side to side around the large tree, the labouring woman tossed sections of the lights with reckless abandon onto the different branches of the pine tree. Round and around she went adding the white lights up the tree but when she reached shoulder height she looked nervously up at the top of the tree, knowing what had to be done next. Niamh stood at the bottom of the step-ladder, gripping it tight with one fist while the other remained firm between her legs. She paused, waiting for the miniscule gap between contractions, before taking a hesitant step up the ladder. 

Meanwhile Anna seemed to be struggling to put one foot in front of the other, her head was dipped low as she held her large bump and breathed heavily. She tried to move but a squeaking whimper came out instead. 

“Come on Anna, you’re so close, don’t give up now.” Danny tried to encourage. 

“Oooohhh… I can’t— move—” Anna said with a fearful whine. 

Danny watched her struggle for a few seconds before taking pity on the girl and wrapped a supportive arm around her waist. “Come on, love. Let’s get you to your tree.” Angry voices came through the presenter’s earpiece as he then yelled to someone off screen “I’m just helping her get to the challenge, that’s all!” 

When they reached her designated challenge area, Anna gripped onto the step ladder, her wide legs trembling with the effort of not giving birth. “I can’t help you anymore sweetheart, but you’re so close. You can do this.” Danny encouraged quietly. Anna nodded, breathing deeply, preparing herself for the final hurdle. Then she abruptly let go of the ladder and dived into the decorations box grabbing as much as she could carry and unceremoniously whacking the decorations along the bottom branches of the tree. 

The Irish mother-to-be was now halfway up the step ladder trying to throw the Christmas lights around the top few branches of the tree. With a final effort she rose up onto her tiptoes and leant forward, lassoing the lights over the very top. The movement came with a price as a split second later the microphone caught her sharp gasp and the camera showed a clear bulge protruding between her thighs, her hand quickly moved to clamp hard against her crotch. 

“Niamh….” Danny’s words were jokingly stern as he stood beneath her ladder. “Was that a head poking through?” 

“No! Nnnghh— of course not. Still-ohhhh-very much c-crowning Danny!” She gritted loudly with a slight hiss through her teeth. 

“Good girl, remember to Keep That Crown!” Danny said, getting the audience to join in, everyone soon chanting the show’s iconic catchphrase. 

Over by the other tree, Anna had thrown all manner of decorations onto the bottom half of the pine tree. There was no style or strategy, the labouring woman frantically grabbing and hooking any decoration she could find onto the spindly branches. Sweat was dripping down her face and she took a breather at the decoration table, wiping her brow with the thick soft velvet of the sleeve of her festive costume. Anna lowered a hand between her legs, her eyes pinching hesitantly as she felt the crown of her baby’s head just inside her clothing. 

“Stay there little guy.” She whispered, exhausted but determined. 

“Anna, how are you getting on, sweetheart?” Danny asked, out of shot of the camera but carefully watching and narrating the scene to the audience at home.  

“I’m— ohhhhhh— hanging in there. And…I’ve got an idea…” Anna said aloud, then surprisingly picked up the whole plastic box of decorations and carried it over and up the step ladder. 

Gasps could be heard from the studio audience, impressed at her stamina and strength. Niamh looked up, worried at the reaction from the audience, and tried to look over at her competitor but couldn’t see past the thick branches of the tree. 

Higher and higher Anna climbed, the box wedged into the curve of her waist beneath her outstretched arm. Then, upon reaching the top of the ladder, she loudly dumped the decorations on the top step. The labouring woman proceeded to stand half-way up the ladder, picking up each item from the box and hanging it onto a branch. Her mis-mash of decorations meant she was already meeting the criteria of the task - to have at least three different types of decorations. Whereas her competitor Niamh, having chosen to add lights, meant she was having to go around the whole tree again to add the decorations. 

The tension in the studio could be cut with a knife, both women evenly matched in their birthing progress, but Anna was taking a surprisingly clear lead in completing the challenge. 

“It's neck-a-neck on this final challenge folks, but who will come out victorious? Can both Anna and Niamh hold off from giving birth just that little bit longer…. Or will they fall at the final hurdle?”  Danny riled up the studio audience who had started chanting support for their favourite contestant. 

Anna was getting higher up the step ladder, getting closer and closer to finishing the challenge. But Niamh was faltering. Badly. She was still on the ground, trying painfully slowly to add decorations to the bottom half of the tree. To the camera she was partially hidden behind the thick branches of the Christmas tree, the odd flash of red and white from her costume coming in and out of view. Her deep, rumbling groans and grunts could be heard over the speakers, because even though she was hidden, the microphone she wore captured everything… 

“nnnghhh—!! No! Don’t— gggrhhh—” the rough husky voice of the Irish mother-to-be echoed around the studio. 

The flash of red velvet behind the tree appeared to be sinking lower and lower, heading towards the ground. Danny, wide eyed, rushed over and beckoned the cameras to follow. 

“Oh…. Niamh….” Danny said as the camera showed everyone in the audience and at home the impending mother of twins. 

Down on her knees, Niamh braced her thighs with both hands, her whole body trembling. Her ass was raised up off her heels and the round shape of a baby’s head was forming under her leggings as she pushed. 

“Nnnnghhh—!!! It’s coming out—!!!!!” Niamh wailed, and then collapsed forwards onto her hands with a cry of relief when the head, very evidently, was born. 

“That’s it folks, our fan favourite is now out of the competition.” Danny said brightly to the camera, before adding “Niamh, you should be very proud. You did amazing. You’ve set the bar extremely high for any other twin pregnancies that’s for sure.” 

Niamh remained curled over on all fours, panting as she caught her breath, the medics rushing onto the studio floor to help her deliver her twins. The camera cuts back to Danny, who strolls between the Christmas trees talking to the audience. 

“So, that leaves us with one mother-to-be left in the competition. Anna,” he called up the ladder to the last woman standing “if you can finish this challenge, you’ve done it.” 

Anna was all the way up the ladder at this point, riffling through the box of decorations and throwing them haphazardly on the top few branches of the tree. The audience cheered and yelled, supporting and encouraging the last remaining contestant as she struggled through the final hurdle. She sagged against the ladder when the decorations were done, heaving deep breaths and gripping the ladder for dear life. When she started to descend the step ladder, Danny interrupted urgently. 

“No! Anna, you still need to add the star at the top!!”

Anna looked like she was about to cry, or scream at him. Her whole body was trembling with the effort of not giving birth, the constant low rumblings from her chest as she fought the back to back contractions. With quaking hands she rummaged through the box, trying to find the star as quickly as she could. Every now and then she’d grunt involuntarily, resulting in tense gasps from the audience, the camera zooming in on her closely. 

“Come on Anna, find that star! You can do it!” Danny yelled up the ladder. She held it proudly in the air when her hands found the glittery item and proceeded to step to the very top of the ladder. As she reached the top she fiercely threw the box of decorations to the floor to stand right on the highest step. 

The whole studio was silent, breaths collectively held as they watched the labouring woman atop the ladder, stretching,  reaching up and up and up, straining to get the star on the very top of the tree. 

A wild cheer erupted as the decoration was put into its rightful place and Danny announced loudly; “YOU DID IT! Anna, you did it!! You’ve won £100,000!” 

Anna didn’t even make it back to the ground before she was actively pushing and the head came out before her feet even touched the floor. 

~ if you like & enjoy my work, please show support via my ko-fi 💜 ~

[butchizuku]

Untouched ᥫ᭡; Caleb

ᨳ Synop. Questions swirl around your mind as you reacquaint yourself with Caleb, but the most pressing? What was this feeling he stirred within you?

໋𓈒 Details. 18+ minors dni, gn afab reader, slight lore implications regarding Caleb's arm, kissing, heavy petting, general intimacy, dry humping, run time; 1k ৎ

(՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞) Director's Note. Happy Caleb day lovers <33 Just a lil something inspired by his limited five star card.

The mechanical flex and low hum of Caleb’s new fangled arm is disconcerting. Goosebumps prickle your tender skin as it grows closer, the robotic fingers flexing and outstretched. The ample, overwhelming urge for touch choked you, drowning out the strangeness of the past few days. Blood rushes against your ear drums as you tentatively meet him halfway, your fingers curling over the cool, stiff metal of his hand.

“I can’t feel you,” Caleb murmurs, peering at you through his lashes.

His fingers slip between yours but he doesn’t reach out with his other hand. You stand for a moment in limbo, too timid to make another move when pinned beneath his smouldering gaze. His name sits heavy on your tongue, waiting for your lips to part.

“Caleb, I-” you start, quickly trailing off, shrinking into yourself.

Gliding your other hand up the length of his bare abdomen, you struggle to find the right thing to say. You figure, your actions might speak louder than any number of words could. His skin is warm to the touch and smooth with little blemishes to disturb your path from his stomach to his chest. The rhythmic thrum of his heart grows stronger as you place the palm of your hand flat against him for a moment. Pressing himself closer to you, Caleb cups your hand with his.

“You can still feel this,” you murmur, your bottom lip pressed between your teeth, “And this.”

Stepping between his thighs, you press your chest to his. Caleb’s breath grows laboured, it fans across your skin. You can’t help but shiver, in spite of the heat that covers your body like a heavy blanket. It’s surprising how hard the plains of his body are, against yours. Somewhere in the back of your mind, he’s still the pudgy faced kid you grew alongside, though he hadn’t been that child for sometime. Caleb hardened sometime between then and now but you hadn’t seen it, perhaps in part due to the soft gaze he always reserved for you.

“And, I can feel you, Caleb.”

Your words land somewhere between a gasp and a whisper, whisked quickly into the air.

“I’m right here,” Caleb shudders in your grasp, his jaw slack, “And so are you.”

A sound wretched from the deep recesses of his throat slipped forth, vulnerable and frighteningly familiar– thick with wanton desire. Caleb burrows his face into your chest, his nose nestled against the length of your collarbone. His bottom lips drags against your skin, slick with spit, as he speaks.

“Right here.”

His hands glide over your waist and travel up your spine.

“Please,” he murmurs into you like a prayer, half baked and rushed in desperation.

There’s that ache again, deep in the pit of your stomach, thrumming and yelling within you for a modicum of your attention. It seeks the very thing you’ve continued to deny yourself, the thing you’ve forced yourself to see as repulsive. But, was there anything quite as pure as your first love? Could, it really be shameful to want him.

“Caleb,” you breathe, fighting off the trembling nerves that make your fingers shake.

They still shake as you dig them into the flesh of his shoulders, using all your force to push him down onto the flimsy cot. The legs wobble and creak for a moment as the weight shifts and you throw your thighs on top of his. Hair dangles in your face as you peer down at him, your gaze flickering between his lidded eyes marred with confusion and his gently parted lips. They’re chapped and have begun to crack along the edges.

“Kiss me.”

You can’t bring yourself to lean in any closer, your heartbeat drowning everything else out. Your chest heaves with an anxious breath and you have half a mind to whisper, “please.”

The metal of his hand is cold against your flush skin, but it’s feather light in its touch. Creeping over your spine and lightly curling around the base of your neck, Caleb pulls you closer until your lips are but a ghost over his. Bracing your hands on his bare pecs, his other hand keeps you steadied by pressing itself into the dip of your lower back.

Kissing Caleb is akin to what you imagine dipping yourself into molten lava. Your body melds into his, perfectly. There is no trace of the awkward pretense that plagued you or even the confusion turned anger that tinged your vision when you first set your eyes upon him, the first time in months. His tongue slips between your lips like he’s kissed you a thousand times before, and maybe he has in another lifetime or even a dream, but the ease makes your head spin. There is nothing to vocalize as Caleb swallows each and every little sound you make with his kiss, suckling you down to the bone with just his mouth.

Whatever single, precarious thread of respect and distance that kept the two of you at arms length snaps. His hands slide from the small of your back to grip your hips, his fingers jabbing into your doughy flesh. His bulge brushes against your crotch, eliciting a groan from Caleb. Your body moves on its own accord and you find yourself grinding against him even as the bed squeaks obnoxiously. The seam of your jeans pulled taunt and pressed snugly to your clit forces a moan to stumble off the tip of your tongue.

“Show me how sorry you are,” you pant, pressing your nose to his neck, “And how much you missed me.”

Caleb chuckles, nipping at your bottom lip, “You want me so bad it makes you look stupid pipsqueak,” he murmurs with his lips curled up in a grin.

Your protests and the squealed, shrill call of his name is buried into another kiss and pulled from the forefront of your mind as he bucks his hips into yours. He’s hard, you can feel his cock straining against the confines of his slacks, begging for release.

“I’m kidding, I’ll do whatever you wish, my sweetheart.”

His promise is melded against the shell of your ear as he grazes the lobe between his teeth. 

“Just so long as I can have you here in my arms.”

© All content belongs to butchizuku. You are not allowed to modify, translate, redistribute, or plagiarize in anyway. Do not recommend outside of tumblr (tiktok, wattpad, twitter etc).

[bountycancelled]

OPLA characters reacting to a sweet, girly reader who turns out to be a a ruthless fighter

genre: headcanons, fem! reader, kinda suggestive??, idfk just read it bro

requested: nope, but reqs are open! pls, for the love of god, request for the opla♡

feat: zoro, sanji

a/n: reader's feminine but not female if that makes sense, only witting again because I'm obsessed with the one piece live action. also, this may be a little ooc, since I haven't watched the anime/read the manga, sorry about that! also, if you wanna be added to my perm taglist, pls feel free to ask!

☆ZORO☆

when you first joined the crew, zoro was immediately unsure of what exactly you brought to the table. I mean, they already had a swordsman, a sharp shooter, a navigator, a dumb cook and a captain/motivational speaker. so what were you doing here?

from luffy's explanation of you, he was aware that you were a good fighter, but he had never seen you in action.

the only things he had seen from you were stuffed animals laying around the ship, pastel outfits he could spot for miles, and bows that had been put in his hair while he slept.

he was tolerant of you at best, and straight up apathetic at worst, but finally, there came a time where someone tried picking a fight with you since you seemed like an easy target while you were walking with him and nami.

although he wasn't particularly fond of you (lies), he still felt the need to defend you as a crewmate, but the ass whooping you gave the stranger made him freeze in place.

there was blood splatter on your pretty face, deep red sploches of your cute clothes, and a look of pure hatred in your eyes. and you had never looked more beautiful in zoros eyes.

that was the first time zoro had ever smiled at you. sure, he had slightly smirked at your cuter tendencies, but in that moment he was truly smitten with you.

from that day, zoro wanted to train with you. what you lacked that he had in experience, you made up for in absolute cruelty when fighting. you were quick, agile and you weren't afraid to make zoro hurt, and he loved every second of it.

zoro would sometimes smile when he saw bruising on his body from his time training with you but catch himself and go stone faced immediately. no, he was not falling for you, absolutely not.

except he was, and the next time you showed up by his side with a slight limp, some tears in your cotton candy coloured clothes, blood all over you, and a sadistic smile on your face, he would tell you as much.

SANJI♡

sanji is unsurprisingly, enamoured by you the second you join the straw hats.

I'm talking, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, cheesy and constant compliments like "you're cuter than any of your stuffed animals, yn-swan~" and even brushing up on his baking skills to bake you aesthetically pleasing sweet treats that always put a smile on your face.

if I'm being completely honest, it doesn't bother him that he doesn't know exactly what your strengths are, you could be amazing at everything like barbie or you could literally not know night from day and he'd still admire you all the same.

one day, you're wearing bottoms that are on the shorter side not that sanji minds at all and you're out exploring the island you're at with him by your side, holding all your bags because in his words "angels don't do hard labour when he's around" when someone decides to hit on you.

you reject them politely, but when they make a less than appropriate comment about your outfit, you click your tongue and shake your head, readying yourself to hospitalise someone.

sanji's mood switches to one of being happy because he's around you to one of murderous intent the second this rando tries you, but you already have them wheezing on the floor with broken nose before sanji can even lift his leg off of the ground.

you're back to usual self, fixing the bow on your hair while complaining about how fucking hard it is to get blood stains off of your clothes, while sanji is thinking about how fucking hard he is

safe to say that this heartless, terrifying side of you makes sanji fall even harder and question whether or not he's a masochist.

he'll still insist on doing things like carrying you anywhere (most of your shoes you impractical as fuck, but style>functionality always) lifting things for you and treating you like a piece of fine china because that's exactly what you deserve, no matter how badass you are.

only difference is, now he'll never come to aid when it comes to kicking ass, because he enjoys seeing you take people to heaven and back more than anything.

he compliments now range from "omg you are the most adorable, lovable, doll-like angel I've ever seen" to "please punch me, step on me, make my nose bleed, choke me-" and he's now ten times more annoying about you than he was before, which no one thought was possible.

believe me when I say that images of you in frilly outfits with your eyes gleaming like diamonds eveytime you make someone bleed occupy 90% of his thoughts. (the other 10% is all things cooking, of course.)

[inkwellscholar]

Movie Snuggles

✦ Content: Sylus × you | Sylus × fem! reader | Unedited.

✦ Warnings: sexual explicit content, mdni.

✦ Summary: Sylus loves making you come by casual stimulation, completely unhurried. You? you had a love-hate relationship with it.

Imagine you're peacefully watching a movie with boyfriend! Sylus, cuddling close together as your eyes are on the screen, you between his legs and his arms wrapped around you.

Sylus hands were always tender, holding you like something precious. His rough fingers tracing patterns on your exposed skin, his nose buried in the crown of your head, inhaling your sweet scent.

How said hands would slide down your abdomen, past your bellybutton, and to your navel. How he would spread his fingers wide, sliding further down and petting your clothed clit with feather-like touches.

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes widening at the soft touch, your hands grasping his forearms tightly.

"What are you doing?" you rasped out in pure surprise.

He only hummed as an answer, kissing the side of your forehead affectionately. "Keep watching the movie, sweetheart."

You gulped, trying to place your attention back to the movie, but you only succeeded for just a couple of measly seconds before he caught your attention, again and again.

He continued petting you through your sweatpants, seeming to be in no hurry. While your heart started beating faster, your pupils blown wide and your breathing laboured, he was the epitome of cool composure, unaffected by his own actions.

His touches were too gentle, a soft torture against the light stimulation of your clit. Your anticipation is what kept you on edge, your mouth almost gaping open, your inner walls fluttering like liquid.

You tilted up your hips then, rubbing yourself on his hand in need, a soft whine leaving your lips. You could feel the rumble of his chest as he chuckled, continuing his gentle ministrations undisturbed.

Slowly but surely, you opened your legs for him, placing them on either side of his. You felt your body turn into liquid as your forced yourself to relax, enjoying the warmth that surrounded you in contrast to the previous chill.

You sighed and melted against him, controlling your breathing.

Sylus cooed at you, kissing the side of your neck with wet lips. "That's my girl." he praised you, showering you with love bites.

Eyes half-lidded, you watched the movie with the occasional tilt of your hips, grinding yourself against his hand. You laced your fingers together with Sylus free hand, your heart feeling full with love and passion.

His fingers trailed further down to your clothed pussy, and you couldn't control the instinctive jolting of your body, a loud moan escaping your mouth.

Imagine how you couldn't help but close your eyes, gasping and teetering over the edge without any penetration. He was just teasing your, rubbing you over your pants, and you were already ready to cum in your underwear.

He hissed as he felt your warmth, before he cupped you fully through your clothing, his palm pressing deliciously over your clit.

Your legs would spread even more before a small cry left your lips, grinding yourself on his hand, your mouth gaping open as you panted and whined.

It was delicious, you loved it ── the edging, the orgasm denial, the way he had you putty in his hands, the way you are both fully clothed yet your body felt in fire.

"Too close," you moaned, shaking your head, teary eyes turning to the side to catch his lustful gaze. "Slower, softer."

Something like a dark approval passed through his gaze. "What a peculiar girl you are, always denying me the gratification of seeing you come undone."

But he didn't listen to you. Instead, he applied more pressure on his hand, making your moans turn into cries, your body shaking.

"No — No, please!" you sobbed, but you don't know if it was because the edging would be over or because you're begging to be brought over the edge.

"Come for me, kitten," he kissed your ear, whispering with that seductive voice of his.

"N-No!" you spoke defiantly, gasping as you tried to get off him.

He didn't let you. Instead, he let go of your hand as his arm moved to wrap it around you, his palm meeting your soft breast, squeezing it gently within his big hand.

His hand started rubbing you faster, putting pressure until your eyes were rolling back from pleasure, your back arching, and beautiful moans leaving your lips as you cummed, writhing and sobbing as his movements never ceased, riding further your orgasm.

"That's it sweetheart, your desires are only for me to fulfill."

[crimsonbubble]

Head Full of Stars

cw. nsfw, afab omega!reader, alpha!hongjoong, heat/rut, possessiveness, overstimulation, strength kink, tummy bulge, creampies, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, pussy drunk joong, scent kink, marking, praise *not proofread, just pure horny

[I wrote this fic with my pussy bruh like it’s pure filth] I took an a/b/o test before this and got omega 🧍🧍

His rut is getting closer, you can feel the air around him get heavier. You were lying in bed when Hongjoong came home earlier than he said he would be. He crowded your space with no remorse, heat rolling off of him in waves.

The energy in the room shifted as he was sent into full throttle with his rut. Your senses are beyond overwhelmed; trying to adjust to the amount of alpha hormones radiating off of him but the only thing it’s making you do is produce more and more slick. You shudder under him, core pulsing with the need for a knot, his knot, your alpha’s knot.

Hongjoong buried his nose in your neck, taking deep inhales of your scent. It makes him dizzy, uselessly rutting his throbbing cock against your drooling pussy. You cling to his shoulders tightly. Hongjoong rips your and his clothes to shreds, stuttering out apologies as he rubs his cock through your slicked folds.

You whimpered pathetically as you watched him rub his cock through your slick. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, ‘mega. Need you, need you now-” Hongjoong leaned back, hooking your legs over his elbows. He hurriedly pushed in, bottoming out immediately. He tried to hold still to let you adjust but your pussy was so fucking tight and warm around his thick cock.

Hongjoong started with shallow thrusts, increasing his speed embarrassingly fast as his instincts took over. Hongjoong’s nails dug into your thighs as he used them as leverage to pull you into his hips. You whimpered at the familiar burn of the stretch. Hongjoong’s cock may not be proportionate to his height and built but it certainly lives up to his title as an alpha.

Normally he’d demand eye contact but he can see that his cock is fucking any sense of coherency out of that pretty head of yours. But it’s okay, Hongjoong loved to fuck the thoughts out of you; he thinks you look the prettiest when you’re taking his cock. Hongjoong can feel himself losing it, but he can see that you’ve already lost it.

You’re letting yourself get taken with the pleasure, doing what you do best; lying pretty and letting your alpha take care of you. Hongjoong growled low in his throat as he inhaled your scent again. He lapped over the mating mark on your neck, rocking his hips even harder. ‘Mine’ That’s the only word replaying in his head.

Hongjoong has you damn near folded in half, drilling his obscenely thick cock into your aching cunt. “Alph- ah-!” Your sweet voice made him groan, his eyes following the way your hand slid between your bodies. Hongjoong could feel his knot grow, catching around your pretty and stretched hole.

He watched you press against the bump he made in your lower stomach, his eyes rolling back as he felt the pressure inside you grow. “My sweet omega, my pretty girl. You want it?” You don’t know how Hongjoong dares to tease you right now but it makes you throb nonetheless.

“Want my knot? Want alpha’s knot?” He chuckles softly, his usual teasing smirk on his face. You whine more at his teasing, pressing harder against the bump in your stomach. Hongjoong falters slightly, reeling his hips back before driving in again, letting his knot slip in too. Your back bows deeply, coming around his cock with a mewl. Hongjoong lets out a shaky breath as he pulses inside you.

You’re breathing is laboured, uselessly pushing at his chest. Hongjoong lets your legs fall to his sides, cradling your face gently. “It’s okay, ‘mega. Just relax, pretty.” Hongjoong watched as you tried to steady your breathing, guiding you through it as he sneakily trailed his hands down your body. His fingers traced over your clit.

You started thrashing immediately, your nails digging into his shoulders. Hongjoong remained still, your needy omega state far too weak to move Hongjoong in his now pussy drunk state. He continued to play with your clit, moaning at the way you clenched around his cock. He had subconsciously let more of his scent ripple off of him, as he felt your body getting warmer the more he played with you.

Hongjoong pressed his mouth to your neck, painting dark hickeys across your skin. You continued to squirm, body too sensitive to know what it wants. Hongjoong gently pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger, feeling his knot finally start to deflate slightly. He inhaled your scent again, the smell flooding his senses. “So sweet, my pretty mate,”

Hongjoong licked at your neck, gently pulling his hips back. He can feel your body shudder against his, pressing his chest to yours as your pussy leaked his cum. Your scent has now clouded his mind, driving him further into his rut mindset. His lips curled into a snarl as he pushed back in, continuing his pace from before. His thrusts got harder with each push, more pheromones rolling off of him as he buried his cock in you. Hongjoong mumbled into your neck, a possessive growl rumbling from his chest.

“Pups. Needs to give you pups. Need you big and swollen with my pups.” Hongjoong can’t stop the images of you with a pretty bump, carrying his pups. “Gonna look so pretty. Gonna give me strong pups, right? Give alpha nice, strong pups?” You dumbly nodded, whimpering as each thrust drives more cum in and out of you.

You’ve lost count of the orgasms you’ve had but it doesn’t matter as Hongjoong continues to lose himself in you as he babbles nonsense. Hongjoong’s flooded your pussy with more than he’s ever produced in his life. The only thought now, in the forefront of his mind, is to knot, knot, and knot. He needs to knot you again.

He needs to feel you stretch around his knot, needs to feel your pussy wrap around his knot, needs to cum in you one more time. He feels like another useless alpha know only knows how to pump and dump but you wrap yourself around him so tight, letting him sink into you one more time.

[emsdevs]

A Luke Hughes ask of his girlfriend going into labour and him telling his family he is a dad to a son

a/n: I'm so sorry for the wait nonnie! I hope you still like it! Also everyone please note: I have never been pregnant and therefore do not know the exact process of having a baby. If there are inaccuracies, please ignore them. Thanks and enjoy dad!Luke :)

Labor of Love

You swore you both would be prepared for this, and you definitely were. Luke, on the other, didn’t seem to be taking it as well. When you felt your water break, you called him into the room, telling him the situation.

“Oh god. Oh no. We have so much to do. Oh my god. Okay, you can get changed if you wanna, and I’ll get everything in the car,” he said, frantically moving around the room.

“Luke, baby, I can’t change my pants by myself,” you answered, significantly calmer.

“Right! Right, I knew that,” he plays it off, coming over to help you undress and redress. He moves you to the car where you get situated while he runs around grabbing everything you might need while at the hospital. 

After you arrived and got checked in, Luke called his family, letting them know you had gone into labor and were at the hospital. Next, he called yours. It was very early in the off-season and you went into labor a little bit early, so they would have to fly in from Michigan, unable to be there until two days later at the earliest. After many excited reactions, he was finally done with his round of phone calls, and he walked back into your room in just enough time for you to start laboring. Fourteen hours of blaming and yelling at Luke later, you had delivered your baby and were waiting to find out the gender. You both had agreed since it was your first child, you wanted to wait to find out the gender until the baby was born. Soon, your baby was in your arms and the midwife was telling you that you’d delivered a beautiful baby boy. The tears started flowing the moment he was placed in your arms, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Luke in the same state beside you. 

“You did so well, baby. Look what you brought us,” he was getting choked up staring at the perfect mix of you and him.

“He’s so perfect,” you move your finger so your son can grab it, “a baby boy.” Soon, the nurses were stealing him away to run all the tests needed, and you instructed Luke to never let your baby boy out of his sight. Eventually, your boys returned, and you all got some much-needed family time. Soon though, you and your son were in desperate need of sleep, so Luke took that time to go inform his family. When he walked through the doors to the waiting room, everyone stood up waiting for whatever news he had for them. 

“She’s doing good, and the baby was born at 3:17. He’s healthy and so perfect,” he sniffled at the end of his sentence, feeling the tears beginning to well up again.

“He?” Luke heard your mom ask.

“Yeah we had a baby boy,” he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He was crying because of the pure joy he felt, his mother wrapping him in her arms while she shed her own tears. Distantly, he could hear Jack and his father having their own celebration before Jim went to call Quinn who couldn’t be there because of playoffs. Gently, Ellen pulled back before asking what name you two had decided on. You both had kept your picks for the names a secret, wanting to keep it to yourselves for as long as possible.

“Samuel Bennett,” he spoke softly.

“Samuel Bennett Hughes,” Ellen breathed, “He sounds perfect, Luke.”

“He is, Mom,” before Luke could start crying again, Jack brought him into a hug, telling him he knew he’d be a good father. His father was the last to hug him, being sure Luke knew how proud he and Ellen were. He let them be the ones to inform Quinn and your family, wanting to get back to his family.

When he got to the room, he took a moment to really take in you and Samuel. You were the love of his life, and he couldn’t wait to see where this road takes you both. He couldn’t wait to spend more time with Samuel and get to know the little boy that you two, mainly you, brought into this world. He was so incredibly thankful to be able to have this moment. You two have been through a lot since getting together in high school. You even stuck with him after he got drafted, choosing to transfer to a school in New Jersey to be closer to him. He’s always had your unwavering support, and he hopes you know he’ll always have your back as well. Right now though, he’s sure both of you will be the co-founders of Samuel’s fan club. No matter what happened or where life leads the two of you, he knows he has you and Samuel, and that’s enough for him.

taglist: @heartsforjh @alex-wotton @devilinpradaheels @juxmi @macklin-celebrini-71 @puckmedude

join the taglist

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈, 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

— pairing; itoshi sae x reader  

— summary; in which you and sae meet again in japan after a messy breakup in spain. set in the blue lock manager au.

— notes; please donate to my kofi if you like my work. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ It’s not really something you like to broadcast, how you and Sae were close when you were in Spain with your parents for that brief, wonderful period of time. While he honed his skills with football, you would balance your studies while helping out at Re Al.

❋ Things had been so simple back then. Late-night walks in Madrid, your fingers intertwined with his. Sneaking kisses in quiet corners, away from prying eyes. Sharing popsicles and everything else. Sae was cold to the rest of the world, his softness reserved entirely for you.

❋ You were each other’s first everything — first kiss, first love, first heartbreak.

❋ Some part of you had to have known that this was only temporary, considering how often your parents travel for work. But it still comes as a shock to you when you parents abruptly decide to return to Japan to help fund the Blue Lock project.

❋ And Sae, so full of potential. Sae, whose career is finally taking off. You aren’t about to let him leave it behind; and Sae, too driven, too focused on his dreams, wasn’t about to throw it all away and return to Japan either. Not like this. Not for you.

❋ You hadn’t expected to see him at the airport to see you off. Sae’s expression was closed off, and it was like the two of you were strangers once again, the distance and silence already stretching endlessly between you. As if your relationship had never existed in the first place.

❋ The breakup was messy, yet silent. Both of you knew instinctively that this was the end. And just before Sae left without looking back, his final words to you were, “If you’re going, don’t expect me to wait.”

❋ The last image you have of him is his retreating figure, back rigid, leaving as the words die on your lips.

❋ And that was that.

❋ You’d returned to Japan with your parents to work as a manager at Blue Lock (Ego had agreed to take you in under the promise of free labour, apparently). Ego’s lectures aren’t fun, but you’re actually learning something under him and Anri when you’re not being driven insane by a group of rowdy, immature teenaged boys.

❋ You try really hard not to think about Sae. Even if the occasional headline reminds you of his burgeoning career in Europe. But the memory of him is a quiet ache in your chest that surfaces in random moments — when you see the colour teal, or hear a song he’d used to like.

❋ You’ve been to JFA headquarters only once or twice before, but it’s bustling with activity as always. Your purpose here is purely business; you’ll act as a secretary for Ego and Anri while they finalize plans for the U20 match with the top brass.

❋ You didn’t think that he’d be there.

❋ Right at that very moment.

❋ In that very room.

❋ Fate is cruel, sometimes.

❋ He looks . . . The same, yet somehow different all at once. His hair’s a little longer, his expression sharper, but those piercing green eyes haven’t changed at all, and the realisation makes your chest throb painfully all over again.

❋ You wonder how you appear to him, underneath your professional blazer and veneer of carefully controlled calm. Does he think you still look the same? Or does he think that you’ve changed, become a total stranger to him, much like how he is to you right now?

❋ His gaze is intense, scorching. You can feel it the second you enter the room, but you keep your head down and try to pay attention to the meeting. (The thought of having to present incomplete notes to Ego certainly does a marvellous job at helping you focus.)

❋ A breath of relief soughs out of you the moment the meeting ends. Quickly, you gather your things, following Ego and Anri out the door. You’re eager to avoid the lingering eyes of the association’s board members.

❋ And perhaps most of all: you’re eager to avoid unnecessary small talk with Sae.

❋ But you catch a final glimpse of him out the corner of your eye; Sae, still staring at you. His expression seemingly softer, almost hesitant. It’s almost as if he wants to call your name, to stop you from leaving, but something — Pride? Anger? — holds him back.

❋ The door to the meeting room clicks shut behind you with a cold finality, and this time, you’re the one leaving first.

[neuvistar]

❝ MY STAR, MY DAUGHTER. ❞ signed: boothill . wc. 791

— featuring ┊boothill x fem!reader

— warnings / content warnings ┊sfw (lil bit of angst if u squint) . major spoilers abt boothill’s story. girldad boothill girldad boothill!!, established relationships (marriage), mentions of pregnancy, just pure fluffiness which hurts my heart | special tags . @rinneverse @mewnbuns

— a/n ┊this is VERRRRYYYY short n somehow took quite a bit bc readers block was eating my ass but i like how this turned out :3 if i see one more tt abt boothill’s silly (not so silly) backstory i will sob uncontrollably :,)

this was a blessing from the aeons themselves.

you were pregnant, with a daughter.. his kid, his flesh and blood. boothill closed his eyes, fingers gently stroking your belly in slow, comforting circles. you could feel his chest heaving softly, his breaths growing deeper and more laboured, signaling his fading consciousness. your husband’s arm loosened, draping over your belly and chest. “.. baby, thank you for this gift. son of a nice lady, yer fudgin’ strong for carryin’ our baby girl inside of ya.”

boothill was beyond excited, your husband couldn’t believe it.. after all these years, he couldn't shake the feeling of gratitude; he was creating a family, a future together with you, a future he could’ve had with his first daughter he had lost and grieved for years. in his eyes, this was his blessing, his second shot at being a father. your heart ached for your husband. you knew about his past and experiences, he told you many times already.. a story you can’t help hold dear to your heart. for boothill, the little baby girl he lost on that fateful day.. was the day he lost everything. the pain of her absence was immense and left a void that no amount of time could heal, sending him in a spiral of grief that engulfed him wholly.

but yet.. when he heard the news of your pregnancy a few months ago, boothill felt that little spark of light erupt once more with pure joy.. the glow he lost many years ago, returned with a new sense of hope, a new sense of hope for the future he’s always wanted. the joy and excitement he felt was a welcome reprieve from the grief that had consumed his soul for so long, overcoming his deepest regrets. he couldn’t wait for this little rascal to grow, experience the beauty of life herself, explore the world around her with curiosity and wonder.. teaching her about all the things he knew. maybe even tell her about the older sister she could’ve had. boothill wanted to see her smile, dress her up in pretty little princess dresses, help her walk her first steps, he wanted to experience and see it all. all he wanted was to see his daughter grow in-front of his eyes, something he had failed to see with his first.

to boothill, his flesh and blood forming inside of you was his second chance at fatherhood. he promised himself he’d pour all his love and energy into raising the baby with you, seeking a renewed sense of purpose and meaning of a father’s love. “i can’t wait for our little girl to grow up, baby.. m’ gonna be the best daddy ever, i’ll tell ya that.”

“you already are, hun. you already are.”

“heh.. rely on me from now on, ‘kay? ‘gonna protect you and her.” your husband leaned in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before moving to brush his lips against yours, tenderly.. his thumb forming gentle circles on your belly. “always darlin, always.” boothill smiled crookedly, a tear glistening in the corner of his eye. the cyborg leaned in, his forehead still touching yours as spoke softly.. his words destined for the bundle of joy growing within you. "little one," boothill whispered, his voice filled with love. " mommy and i have been talking. both so fudgin’ excited to meet ya. princess, we’ve been workin’ hard to make sure that when ya join us, you'll have everythin’ ya need. ‘going to shower you with love ‘n affection.. promise to be there for ya, to teach ya and guide ya. mama and daddy’re a team, ‘n we'll be the best parents we can be, just for you,”

your husband paused for a moment, allowing the love in his words to resonate before continuing. ".. ‘can't wait t’hear your first cry, ‘feel ya in my arms, kiss your forehead. mama and i love ya more than anythin’ else in this world. so.. for now, jus’ keep growin’ healthy and strong, okay?"

boothill reached over, taking your hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. your husband gazed back up at you, offering you a small smile as he spoke to the little girl, puckering his lips to leave a gentle peck to your belly. “heh.. jus’ so ya know, s’ your daddy, babygirl. can’t wait t’squeeze those chubby cheeks, roll you up in a marshmallow usin’ daddy’s good-old red scarf.. i can’t wait t’love ya. love ya as much as the universe. y’know why, darlin’?” he paused, nuzzling his nose against the warmth of your belly, “because you’re my star, sweetie. the star that lit up mommy and daddy’s life,”

“my star, my daughter.”

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Could I make one where Balwin's wife is pregnant but during childbirth she is surprised and it is not a single baby, if it is not 3 triplets and they are chubby and pink, what will be people's reaction?

♡ Sweet Surprise - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you for the request, I think that this was one of the ones that got deleted by the glitch a little while ago so I'm so sorry about that, but I'm glad you sent it back in so I could complete it! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy, Child Birth

It was exactly one month after the union between the king and queen of Jerusalem that y/n fell pregnant.

After many weeks of trying, it had finally happened.

The young couple were overjoyed, having exceeded all doubts about Baldwin’s fertility due to his illness. It was truely a blessing from the lord Himself and needless to say, the entire kingdom was of the same opinion.

As the months went on, the queen fell heavily pregant. More so than what was expected. This worried the physicians greatly, believing that there may be something wrong.

Y/n was confined to the royal chambers to preserve her health until labour.

Baldwin was destraught. Thinking irrationally, he believed that it had something to do with his disease.

His anxiety grew with each passing day, no matter how many times his queen consoled him and assured him that the situation was no fault of his own.

---------------------

And then, the day came.

The king was out overseeing the construction of a new church in the kingdom when a servant on the back of a large stallion sprinted up to the small group of officials.

“MY LORD MY LORD!” he shouted, leaping down from the horse, panting and tripping overhimself.

“Oh my, are you okay? What is going on?” Baldwin replied, his heart quickening at the thought of an emergency.

“My lord, its the queen, she is in labour!” 

The king and the rest of the small party waisted no time in mounting their horses and cantering back to the castle as fast as possible. 

When they arrived, Baldwin payed no attention to the pain that his body was in. He lept down from the horse, ignoring the surge of agony that shot through his lower body when his feet hit the ground.

He was the first into the castle and ascended the stairs to the royal chambers in no time.

Breathing heavely, he pushed open the doors with the last of his strength before falling to his knees.

Two maids immediately rushed to his side, helping their king to his feet.

“Y/n! Is she okay? Is the baby alright?!” he asked urgently, still panting heavily.

“Baldwin!” y/n called from the bed, “I am alright my love, come see!”.

As the kings vision cleared, the bed that held his wife came into view. As did the baby. And another baby? And another? In the queens arms lay three, healthy, chubby, pink babies who were all sleeping peacefully against their mothers body.

Baldwin gasped, a wide grin quickly spreading across his mask covered face.

The maids helped him to the bed, sitting him down carefully beside his wife.

“They are all healthy sweetheart, thats why my belly was so big! There was nothing wrong, I was just holding triplets!” y/n said, an equally wide smile on her face. 

The young king was lost for words and overcome with nothing but pure joy.

“I- I cant believe it! This is the most amazing day of my life! Oh thank you lord!’’ Baldwin praised, his grin hidden by the mask.

He pressed his forehead against the top of his wifes head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I cant believe this is happening! I have never been happier” he said, feeling tears of joy welling in his eyes.

Y/n chuckled, “neither can I darling. And I thought we were blessed with one, but THREE!”

Baldwin opened his eyes to look down at his children.

Each one was plump and healthy. Their arorable faces melted his heart.

“There are two boys and one girl” the queen said softly.

“Would you like to hold them?” she asked.

Baldwin thought for a moment, “I dont know if that is a good idea, what if they get sick? I couldnt live with myself if-” 

“Darling” y/n cut him off gently.

“It will be okay. You are clothed and you are wearing your mask. Nothing will happen I can assure you. Allow yourself this moment, you deserve it” she told him with a smile.

He took a deep breath before nodding, leaning against the headboard of the bed and holding out his arms.

One by one, y/n carefully placed each tiny bundle of life in his arms.

Two of them stayed in peaceful sleep but ones eyes opened slowly. It was one of the boys. He did not cry like many babies would, he simply yawned and looked up at his father with big blue eyes. Big blue eyes, just like Baldwin’s.

The kings heart swelled with joy and happiness again at the sight of his son. His own son.

“Oh my love look!, he has your eyes” y/n cooed, looking at the adorable little boy in her husbands arms.

“Yes, he does!” Baldwin’s own eyes welled with tears at the sight and he fought back a broken sob.

Noticing his tear filled eyes, y/n placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“Are you okay darling? Whats wrong?” she asked, suddenly worried.

“I’m alright my love. I’m just so happy, I never thought this day would come. Theyre so perfect, youre so perfect. Thank you y/n- I love you so much”

He tried his best to prevent tears from running down his cheeks, but when the chubby little boy in his arms smiled up at his fathers masked face, he could not fight it.

Y/n wrapped an arm around Baldwin’s shoulders and pulled him closer to her.

“You deserve this happiness sweetheart. I love you, and our family is, and will be, perfect” she kissed her husband's cheek and layed her head on his shoulder.

The king nodded, a small smile returning to his face.

He felt like the happiest man alive, and he knew that as long as he had these children and y/n in his life, he would stay that way for all eternity.

[not-magdi]

Little Update

Summary: Lando gives his fans a little update about live

Words: 785

Warnings: None just pure fluff

A/N

It's my first time writing for Lando I hope you like it <3

Three weeks ago, you and Lando welcomed a little baby boy to the world. The both of you were pretty open about the pregnancy, posting pictures and stories all the time.

The fans loved watching your baby bump grow. And the interactions between Lando and the baby you two shared over your socials.

But since the baby was born, you two went MIA for a while and haven't posted a thing. Everybody started to speculate that the baby was born, but nobody had seen the baby yet.

You and Lando needed some time for yourselves to adjust to the new situation, but after some time, you slowly got into a routine.

Now, the two of you wanted to let the world know about your little bundle of joy. Lando wanted to do something special, that would resemble you and him.

Something that made you and Lando who you are, are your infamous streams. So Lando wanted to stream with your baby and introduce him to the world. You were a bit sceptical at first, not wanting to parade around with your baby in public so much.

But Lando assured you that everything would be alright and that he would be extra careful if it would get too much for little baby Henry.

So now Lando was sitting in his gaming chair with his son sound asleep next to him in his crib.

You wanted to stay with them and watch, but you had a hard time staying awake and chose to take a nap, still recovering from labour.

Lando took a deep breath and started the stream but had the camera still turned off. In the next few minutes, thousands of people joined his stream.

Seeing the numbers rise made Lando's heart beat faster, and he started overthinking his idea again. Nevertheless, he turned on his microphone and greeted his viewers.

"Hey, guys! … Guys, calm down. I know the camera's turned off. Be patient."

His heart melted as he read the messages his fans sent him, asking how he was doing and if you were doing okay. After laughing at a few messages, his heart rate slowed down and he started to feel more relaxed.

"So guys, I know me and Y/N haven't been online for some time. In our defence, we had a good reason."

Taking a deep breath to collect himself, he took the sleeping baby into his arms and turned on the camera.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to Henry Norris."

He grabbed Henry's little hand with his finger and waved at the camera. The chat went completely feral at that, congratulating the two of them on your little family.

Henry slowly woke up after he felt his dad's presence. Looking up at Lando with his big blue eyes, which he got from you, he cuddled himself deeper into Lando's arms.

Realising that his son had woken up, he cooed at him and kissed his little forehead to settle him again.

"Chat, look at him, he's so cute. Baby, you wanna say hello?"

Hearing Lando use his baby voice and cuddle with his son made the chat go crazy. Messages of love and adoration flooded the chat.

"How is Y/N doing?" Lando read out loud.

"Y/N's doing quite good. She is currently sleeping. I try to help her as much as I can. She needs to recover fast because I'm kind of lost without her."

Chuckling at the end of his sentence, he read a few more questions until he heard the door to his office open and close.

"Aww, chat, look who decided to join us!"

You waved at the camera as you took your place behind Lando, kissing his messy curls.

"The chat kept asking for you," Lando mumbled into your neck as he nuzzled himself into you.

"Aww, really? Hi chat!"

You greet the chat and cuddle yourself next to Lando. The two of you kept answering questions until you felt Henry squirm in Lando's arms.

"Chat, we're going to end the stream now. Little muppet's gonna have his dinner now."

Taking Henry from Lando's arms, you head out, getting ready to feed him. Lando comes right after you, talking to the chat for a bit.

The sight that greets him in the living room, is a sight he could never get sick of.

The love of his life, with his son in her arms, feeding him in their own little home.

[greycloudsinwinter]

Hello. The headcanon you shared for Maegor was great. Can you write more yandere Maegor? The reader got married Maegor and the reader is the only wife who gives birth to healthy children.

YANDERE MAEGOR X READER WHO GAVE BIRTH TO HEALTHY CHILD

🔪he married you because of his deep infatuation with you . To be honest he just wanted to be with you .

🔪he wanted a child so desperately and if the gods gave him one he would treat the child with such care and dedication no one could say he was a bad father.

🔪when he hears that you are pregnant it’s a mixture of pure love and worry.

🔪because of the worry he hides you away from everyone ESPECIALLY his wife’s in fear they will kill the child inside you .

🔪out of love he gives you anything you want a beautiful cradle with hand crafted dragon on it a symbol of the babes inheritance when it’s born.

🔪when you are in labour he becomes distraught unsure what to do he barks orders at the maesters to make you better. When you scream in agony he tries his best to soothe you by whispering words of inspiration and encouragement.

🔪when the babe is born and starts to cry he CRIES . He never thought he would feel so content before he loves you more then ever and the little of bundle of joy you have is now his most prized possession.

🔪after the first babe he waits before he tries for another not wanting to seem greedy or anger the gods .

🔪but after you give birth to another child that’s it . All the other wives are executed and you are his only wife …

🔪you will probably have 10 to 13 children so be prepared because now you have gifted him with this bundle of joy . You are going to give him many MANY more .. just a warning

Thank you for this request ❤️❤️

[604to647]

What Was I Made For?

3.1K / Frankenstein AU Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: Left on his own, Tim learns a new way to live.

Warnings: None! Age gap cause Tim’s like hundreds of years old 🤷🏻‍♀️😂 Semi-sentient woodland creatures that meddle, I guess 🤭

A/N: Inspired by @almostfoxglove’s beautiful AU moodboard below - if you haven't already, check out that post and the tags, along with all her other AU moodboards! Thank you so much for sharing them with us 🥹🥰

Title by Billie Eilish / Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always 🥰

For a very long time, Tim did not go outside during the daytime.

Father said not to.

And even though Father has been gone for many years, Tim still heeded his words.  His being the only voice Tim had ever heard.

He still doesn’t know why Father left.  He’s even less sure of why he never returned.

Merge Mansion remains dark, even during the day.  Its halls empty, its candelabras unlit.  If anyone was to pass through the ivy choked iron gates and listen at its door, and no one ever did, they would hear only the skittering of mice and the occasional heavy footstep, so slow and deliberate it could be mistaken for the heartbeat of a slowly dying house.

Only ever at night, Tim goes out to the woods behind the now dusty and crumbling mansion.  Those same woods where Father would have him lift, throw, break - repeatedly.  And Father would write furiously in his notebooks.  Tim thinks maybe that’s what he was made for.

For more years than can be counted, enough so that he passes into legend, Tim continues to do what he knows.  He uproots trees and plants and heaves them over knolls and into streams.  He rolls boulders and smashes rocks.  He haunts the forest alone until the dawn threatens to pierce through the thick overhang of the old growth trees; hiding within the moss-covered stone walls of the only home he’s ever known until night brings cover once again.

Until one night after so many nights, he just… doesn’t.  Instead of his nightly exertion to prove something to the darkness, Tim just sits and bathes in the pureness of the moonlight.  He breathes in the earthy musk of the forest’s damp soil and the sweet scent of pine mixed with bark sap.  Instead of his own laboured breathing, Tim finally hears the babbling of the brooks, the hooting of the owls, and soft breeze whistling between the low berry bushes and the high tree tops.  Tim doesn’t know if he was made to be at peace, but he finds that he can do it all the same.

He teaches himself to read.  At first using words Father would say and the signs he would point to in the room Tim lived in: Lock.  Unlock.  Hot.  Cold.  On.  Off.  Danger.  Stop.

Then from books about nature that he finds in the library, remembering words that Father would use to describe their surroundings when in the woods that Tim now knows so well.

Tree.  Rock.  Hill.  Hole.

It takes a very, very long time.  But Tim has nothing but time.

He’s not even sure if he’s doing it right - he has no one to ask.  Not that he could even if there was.  He says the words in his head the way he thinks they sound, but with no voice, never out loud.  He wasn’t made for that.

It’s no matter.  Even if he isn’t sure he’s sounding them out properly, Tim thinks he’s assigned the words to the pictures in the books of animals and landscapes correctly.  There are other books, as well.  Ones with illustrations that are foreign to him and where the words denote meaning that he doesn’t think he will ever understand, but he learns them anyways:  Music.  Dance.  Laugh.  Feast.  Love.

In his woods, Tim no longer destroys: he clears, builds, tends.  Tim carves out paths that feel softer on the bottoms of his lumbering feet.  He removes dead branches from healthy trunks and uses them to sweep the forest floor.  He rolls away dead trees, some fell by age or disease, others by his own hand in the olden days when he thought that was what he was made for.

He still only does these things under the cover of night.  Father had said to be afraid of the village at the bottom of the looming hill upon which Merge Mansion perched.  He warned Tim that if he was discovered, the villagers would come and hurt them both.  Tim wishes that he had known the words or had the voice to tell Father that he would have protected him.  That perhaps it was the villagers who should have been afraid of him. Father’s notebooks say that he was built to be fierce. 

The bunnies in the woods do not seem to think so.  Nor the foxes, or the badgers, or the mice.  The deer do not find Tim to be fearsome, and the birds readily to flock to him.

He supposes it’s because he starts to help them build their nests; his long legs easily carry him to the farthest corners of the woods where the best nesting materials can be gathered.  He volunteers his big, pawlike hands to dig their burrows and holes.  His strength he uses to drag logs and branches to where whole furry families reside, breaking the thick wood into smaller pieces to help them expand and fortify their homes for their growing broods and the incoming weather.  He’s tall enough to lift baby birds back into their nests when they fall out before they’re ready to fly.  He forages and shares all his bounty, himself having no need for sustenance. 

Tim would not mind if this is what he was made for.

The years continue to pass.  The village at the bottom of the hill gets less busy, smaller, and is eventually gone.  Tim only knows because he witnesses the number of tiny square windows illuminated by bright candles during the night, dwindle until there is only darkness.

From the now dilapidated walls of Merge Mansion, Tim watches as what remains of the village rots and is reclaimed by the Earth.  It looks less frightening to him the way it stands now, wild and lush - much more like his beloved forest where he’s only ever known friendly creatures.

It’s the bunnies who convince him to come out in the daytime. 

It had been an especially abundant year for the rabbits, with baby bunnies almost overrunning the forest floor.  The mamas plead with Tim using their big brown eyes to help round up their little ones and keep them safe, making sure none of them strayed too far from the safety of the woods.

Little bunnies are hard to see in the dark.

The first time Tim steps outside during the day, he’s so blinded by the sky’s brightness that he thinks perhaps his eyes were not made for sunlight.  His forest is so green in the daytime.  A richness of browns with the occasional pop of red, blue, even lavender.  In the winters, the snow is so white during the day it appears almost clear.  Once the snow has melted, the streams splash with fish that jump during the day – something that never happens at night.  The sun’s beams warm Tim’s rough skin in a way the moon’s cold, comfortable ambiance never has.  The sounds of the forest are so much louder, cheerier in the day than they are at night – it strikes Tim as odd given it’s the same forest but he supposes he feels more alive during the day as well.

The deer are the ones that lead him out of the forest and to the front of the house.  The overgrown grass on the Merge Mansion hill begs to be grazed on, and with the village gone, Tim and the deer while away many days unseen and unbothered amongst the soft green blades – looking out to a splendid view of rolling plains and sprawling forests stretching all the way to the horizon.  He never strays far from the house - still heeding Father’s words of caution even though the dangers he warned against look to be long gone.

Tim doesn’t even know that another village has sprung up somewhere on the other side of a low mountain that he considers to be more than a fair distance away until you.  The first time he sees you, you’re but a little girl and you come with your own father to the cemetery that rests at the bottom of his hill, where it once bordered the old village.  The same cemetery from which Father gathered the parts that make up Tim as he is, if Father’s notebooks are to be believed.  The deer scamper away before you or your father see them, but Tim stays and hides, watches.

He hears your father tell you that these graves belong to your ancestors who once lived in the old village that’s now gone and that even though you live on the other side of the mountain, you should still pay your respects.  Tim listens to your cheery chatter and the hum of your father’s merry tunes as the two of you clean the gravestones, pull the weeds, plant fresh gardens.

You and your father come every week and Tim begins to look forward to it.  He watches you grow into a beautiful woman and your father into an old man.  He listens to the musical lilt of your voice and the gentle teasing of your father as the two of you care for and nurture the plot of land at the base of the Merge Mansion Hill so that it grows vibrant and fragrant with flowers that he’s only ever seen in Father’s books.  He hears your father tell you stories he heard as a child about the house that Tim lives in – the legend of a mad scientist and a terrible monster.  Tim doesn’t know why, but he feels relief when you laugh at these stories and call them ridiculous.

When your father stops coming with you, Tim watches over you in his stead.  You continue to do your duty in the cemetery joyfully and your sweetness is like an invitation.  The bunnies and the foxes and the mice and the deer all come down to join you.  You laugh and share your food with them and they enjoy your company as much as you do theirs.  Music.  Dance.  Laugh.  Feast.  He thinks he finally understands.  When his furry friends turn their soulful eyes up to the house, Tim knows they’re looking to him to come down but he shakes his head no.  He’s not made for this.

He doesn’t know that you see him anyways.

You’ve known he was there since the days you would come to this cemetery with your father as a little girl.  Most times as just a shadow on the Merge Mansion grounds, but once or twice you had seen Tim’s handsome, haunted face in one of the cracked windows.

You don’t know who he is or what he is, but some how you know that you have to pretend that you’re unaware of his presence.  As if for some laughable reason, he finds you to be frightening.

So, you try to make yourself to be as nonintimidating as possible.  You wear soft flowing fabrics that lie prettily over your equally soft skin in pleasing colours that compliment the hue of your hair and the brightness of your eyes.  You keep your voice gentle and the sound of your notes harmonious when you sing or hum your favourite songs of love and fantasy.  When your father tells you the old stories of the Merge Mansion Monster, you make sure to loudly decry this characterization.  Your unseen friend is not a monster, and you want to make sure that he knows you know that.

Your woodland friends who proclaim to know him best seem to say, give him time.  So you do, waiting patiently for a sign.  For what?  You don’t know.  Just a sign for more.

It comes one summer day, many, many years after your weekly trips to the cemetery became solo trips.  For two weeks, you’ve been in a state of mild panic, unable to find the delicate gold chain necklace that your father gave you - his last gift to you before he passed.  A part of you fears that it may have come unclasped and dropped onto the path some time during your weekly trip to the Merge Mansion cemetery; your heart clenches – if that was the case, your treasured necklace is surely lost.

Your surprise when you find your necklace waiting for you on top of a gravestone next to a small tied bundle of lavender is palpable.  Your eyes threaten to overflow with tears as you look up the hill to the house and mouth, thank you.

You don’t know that you had actually lost your necklace next to this very gravestone and that one of your bluebird friends had carried it up to Tim in its beak.  Tim spends two weeks practicing making the small bouquet of lavender – his large and clumsy hands unused to the precise and delicate movements required.  He refers to the instructions in the book he found so many times he can see the diagrams in his sleep.  But he keeps trying until he gets it right – wanting to offer you something more than just your returned necklace as a token of his appreciation for all the work you do.  Holding the delicate chain in his oversized hand, he can’t stop looking at it glittering in the moonlight and admiring its intricate craftsmanship.  It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.  Well, second.

The next week, Tim discovers a large and fragrant bouquet of the cemetery’s best and biggest blooms laid outside of his iron gates.

Three weeks later, on the same gravestone, you find those flowers dried and pressed, then laced together in a pretty flower crown.

You weave your own from new fresh flowers and leave it in place of the dried one you take home.  The following week, the crown you made is gone, and in its place, a large pile of fresh wild berries that must come from the forest behind the mansion.

The squirrels had objected, but Tim promised that the reduction of berries from their weekly hoard would be for a good cause.  You helped prove him right the following week when he returned from the hill with a jar of wild berry jam which he happily shared.

This continues for months.  Each week a small, thoughtful trinket exchanged - neither you or Tim having much to offer except your consideration and time.  The giddy anticipation and resulting awe a gift in itself.

The day you bring a blanket that took you six weeks to knit, you’re imbued with a bravery (the source of which is unknown even to you) that brings you all the way to Tim’s doorstep.  The heavy door opens when you push against it, but no one answers when you call out.

While Tim is in the woods assisting with the birth of a newborn deer, you’re wandering the dark, musty halls of Merge Mansion.  You find where you think Tim must sleep: in a room that looks like a lab - electrical wire equipment, gurneys, restraints and medical utensils long since pushed against the walls of the room and abandoned.

You read the notebooks left behind by the scientist and seethe on Tim’s behalf.  To call him a Creature!  To experiment on him and put him through trials of endurance and strength as if he was merely an instrument for violence!  You’re grateful that Tim’s creator must be long dead by now, else he might not be able to escape the vitriol you feel rising in your chest at the mistreatment Tim endured at his hand.

You leave the blanket and the mansion in a hurry.

When Tim comes back into the house, he knows immediately that you were there.  He smells you.  The sweet floral perfume from your garden and the sticky scent of fruit from your jams hangs in the air.  Nothing in this house or the forest smells quite so lovely.  You were here. 

With growing distress, he finds your thoughtful gift in the room where he sleeps and knows that you’ve read Father’s notebooks.  You know the truth of what he is now.  He’ll never see you again.

But you come back.

You leave him a letter and for three weeks, he reads it every day. 

It’s a letter that tells him about yourself and your family, and how you came to be his weekly visitor.  You tell him how you’ve always known he’s been there but you were afraid to scare him away so you never let on that you saw him.  You tell him that now that you’ve calmed down a bit, you’re not quite so angry at Father but you do think that he didn’t understand Tim’s true nature, or perhaps, you concede, he simply wasn’t gifted enough time to understand. 

You tell him what you think of his nature.  In your experience, men who are strong are rarely gentle and those who harness power are hardly ever giving.  But Tim is.  His hands, arms and muscles may be sewn together from much lesser men, but he, Tim, wields his strength to protect and look after others.  His heart may not be able to pull down trees or break rock, but it’s tender and pure – and where his true power lies.

You write that even though you’ve never met him face to face, you only ever feel safe and cared for knowing he’s around.  And you hope that even if he never forgives you for trespassing in his home and going through his personal belongings without his permission, he will take your words to heart.

Every week you come back to the doors of Merge Mansion bearing a small gift and a big apology, but Tim is nowhere to be found.  You’re starting to fear that you’ve crossed an unforgiveable boundary and ruined your indescribable but cherished connection, when the most wonderous sight awaits you as you near the top of the hill nearly a month after you left your letter.

Tim. 

Impossibly large and broad, a hulk of a man is sitting on the front steps waiting for you.  His face is hard, lined from time and worry, but his eyes are soft and vulnerable.  You see some trace of old scars along his forehead and neck, and down the worn skin that stretches over the corded muscles of his forearms.  His clothes are outdated and entirely the wrong size, but somehow it works on him.  He looks formidable.  Wild, yet tame.  Handsome.

You run to him, beaming.  Tim stands when you come to a stop in front of him, towering over you as he holds out a bouquet of wildflowers picked from the forest lands behind his home that he tends to so carefully.

When you reach out to accept, your small fingers brush his larger calloused ones, and the jolt of electricity that passes between the two of you feels like pure joy.  And although Tim can only offer a quiet grunt, unable to say the words that he wishes he could sing with his whole chest, you understand him perfectly.  Your incandescent smile and hopeful expression reassure him that you too, recognize the simple, unspoken truth: Tim was made for you.

🎶Obligatory Billie Eilish, What Was I Made For lyrics🎶:

'Cause I, 'cause I I don't know how to feel But I wanna try I don't know how to feel But someday I might Someday I might

Think I forgot how to be happy Something I'm not, but something I can be Something I wait for Something I'm made for Something I'm made for

[reidology13]

I tell someone I love them (just as a distraction)

Spencer Reid x fem famous!reader

Summary: In the depths of his addiction, Spencer finds someone who needs an escape as much as he does. cw: talk of addiction, allusions to sex (no actual smut), angst no happy ending

Part 2 here!

Meaningless whispers of ‘I love you’ mumbled between laboured breaths and cold kisses in an apartment that doesn’t feel like mine. The sheen of sweat that coats his body is nearly constant these days, it has nothing to do with physical exertion. The glaze over his hollow eyes is the furthest possible thing from pleasure, although by now he might have his wires crossed. His face is beautiful, and I can see myself marrying it in another life, one where my chest isn’t as hollow as his cheeks. A life where I don’t have to ignore the fresh scars in the crook of his elbow as I pull his shirt off.

I am not in that world, and neither is he, a reality that I cannot grieve because this is what I asked for, what I have been working for since before I can remember. The parties that leave me empty and sick, the performances that start the moment I leave the stage, the new friends who tag along for my name. I love him because he doesn’t care about any of it, if only because he’s too high to care about much at all.

I don’t feel anything when I finish, I’m not sure he does, either. I watch as he disappears from my side, already scrambling to his bag, searching through it until he finds what he needs. He slips into the bathroom, finally taking his chance to feel something after the numbness of the night. He has his escape, he used to be mine. I wonder if one day the chemicals he defiles his veins with will stop calming his ever racing mind, or if I just need a higher dose.

When he comes back, I pull him close to me, dragging him back down into the bedsheets and sweat. It works this time, my skin alight with every electrifying touch as his fingers dance gracefully across my body. His hands shake as they move, a feeling that makes my nerves sing as a lump forms in my throat and my heart sinks to my stomach. He looks up at me with those brown eyes that would be so gorgeous if they held any emotion, anything but that violent hunger for a craving he should have satisfied moments earlier. He can’t up his dose as easily as I can, can’t pull his vice back to bed without the risk of never waking up. He doesn’t bother saying that he loves me this time, we both know it’s not true. Or maybe it is, but there are things he loves much more, and telling me he loves me debases one of the only pure things left in the world. I’m glad he doesn’t try this time.

He holds me afterwards, his trembling body not yet ready to stand up, or maybe he knows that the moment he does he’ll be back inside the bathroom. I turn my head away, and as he buries his face in my shoulder, I pretend I don’t feel the apology he mouths against my glass skin. He runs a hand down my upper arm, his touch tentative and light, scared that I’ll shatter into a million pieces. My heart does. If he knows about the tear that runs down my face, he ignores it, and I’m not surprised. Ignorance is what we’re good at, after all.

When I wake up, he’s gone, slipped into the early morning, or called into the job that he shouldn’t be doing in his condition. I crawl out of my cold, damp sheets, the disgusting aftermath of our night. The sick feeling that perpetually sits in my gut, loosening under him, twisting tighter under the sun of the next day. 

Slowly, I peel back the layers of sticky fabric, watching how they cling to my skin and each other as I force them into the washing machine. I turn it on.

Fresh sheets are laid out on my bed, sheets that haven’t yet witnessed the tornado of us, still clean and untainted by tears and sweat and words that never mean anything. I lay the sheet over the mattress, fighting to wrap it around all four corners as it perpetually escapes one, always sitting just slightly wrong. I place the pillows down carefully, fighting the urge to punch them like I’ve been wanting to punch his face every time he shows up at my door.

I can see myself marrying him in this world, too, getting him the help he needs and staying with him through it all. He would be able to be there for me when I need it, not an escape from, but support through the other parts of my life, a person to love and talk to about the hard things. But I know that is still impossible. One day, he will sober up and disappear, or I will be an uninvited guest at his funeral. There’s no option that ends well for both of us, the best we can do is take it as it happens and ignore everything.

I watch as the last blanket floats down over the bed, carelessly adjusting its corners. It looks exactly the same.

[willowed-wisp]

to the winter wedding (part two) [ ghost ]

part one

Growing up you had fated encounters with Simon Riley that would continue into your adulthood. You a combat medic and him, the one you ended up treating.

“Mum, I look like a dusty grape… I can’t go to that wedding looking like THIS!” The dress was sleek, as you hoped. However, it made you wholly self-conscious. It was just a spaghetti dress, long line lilac dress. But you hated yourself in it.

Though your mother objected, “You are ridiculous… you look better than I ever did in it. And besides, it’s not about you… Beth is the bride, you’re a guest…” That was what you needed to hear, it wasn’t about you. People weren’t going to be looking at you…

Everybody but Simon Riley…

You would be fine…. That was until you sat outside of the venue in your car, stalling to enter the church. Why did you feel like that? Simon wouldn’t even look at you like that, he would have made a move on you years ago if he intended to.

So taking a deep breath, hands leaving the wheel of your car. You left the vehicle, locking on the key. At just the right moment for the air to be knocked out of your date; your hair down and long lilac dress that matched his tie down to the fabric. His tawny eyes wide- more expressive than you’d witnessed previously, “Fuckin’ hell…”

That concerned you, “Does it look horrible? I told my mum I didn’t look good…”

He remained gobsmacked, “You’ve got nothing to worry about…” His arm looped, hooking your arm through.

Butterflies constant in your stomach that night: eyes on you and Simon arm in arm and managing to catch the bouquet- looking instinctively at your date. Wishing alcohol was in your system, unable to shake that overwhelming weight on your chest. Worsening when his hulking frame stood in front of you, “Need some air, ya comin’?” Nodding, passing the bouquet to a random bridesmaid. Following the man who stood out like a sore thumb to outside of the secondary venue.

Without hesitation, he brought his lips to yours; seeing if you tasted how he imagined. It’s all he had thought about the entire night… many nights… flutters in your middle were numbing. The slightest smile drawn on his lips while you were sure his hands, rested at your waistline were there to stabilise.

One intended peck turned into a series of kisses. Your eyes finally opened, meeting those of molten russet. His lips ghosted over your own, barely there but that warmth mixed with his laboured breathing. "Please say this isn't a dream..." Your breath tickled against him.

His eyes spoke numerous emotions; shock, longing, gratitude and adoration. Your breathing slowed while his heart beat grew furious under trembling fingertips. "I'm right here, Y/N… want t’ go to my place?”

Crashing against his front door, his mother still present at the reception while Simon’s tongue was down your throat. Breaking apart from you, “I’ve waited too long to do this…”

Whipping off the jacket from his structured arms, “You have no idea,” claiming him in a starved kiss. Your fingers in his thick hair, his hands spreading your legs.

His cheek to yours- a whisper in your ear, “Jump, love,” Hooking your legs around his waist; a groan slipped from your throat each step he took up the stairs. He could imagine why, not able to restrain himself with your legs draped around him- grinding against the tent in his trousers. An ache in you building by the second, no alcohol in your system. It was pure desire and fuck did you need him.

Your body caught air for the slightest moment, body on top of neatly made bedsheets, the moonlight loomed through the curtains. "You’ve been driving me crazy, Y/N…" Your name rolled so easily off of his tongue- wondering what other uses he had with it. The shirt that hung on his shoulders found its position at the base of the bed, before the weight on the bed shifted- Simon’s frame shadowed your fully-clothed body. His mouth tickled your neck until that sweet singe of pain, your head coaxed onto the pillows of the bed. Breath hitching every nip he took.

Unable to take action, as he was in full control. Pinning your hands with such delicacy to either side of your head as he laid waste to your arching neck; acute snappy breaths each graze of his teeth. Simon worked down the length of body- across the dress just leaving delicate pecks. All a euphoric blur.

Before you knew it he was hilted in you, every duty and purpose you had ever burdened put on the back burners. This was you and Simon, not the frontlines of a war. Shared breaths of laboured passion the only thing lingering in the world. Your head fuzzy with desire, nails scraping along his scarred, muscular back. A moan strangulated as his back dipped, hand coiling further and forceful in your hair. “Simon…” Fallen from your full lips, tickling the hair curved at his ear. The man kissed your temple.

His name fell from your lips again, shouting da curse. Scrapes along the blades of his shoulders and fingernails indented his neck while he took care of your bare chest and clavicle- love bites scattered north to south of your pretty body, just as your back arched before his eyes.

You weren’t thinking- the only thing you knew was his name, ripping a spasm through your core. An insatiable grumble from Simon- so light in the air, not like his usual rough tone.

Blood drawn from his neck, your grip like a vice back lifting off the bed. Simon’s cock lburied all the deeper, and your voice was crying out. Vision clouded in the bright haze by his chest then how he chewed at his lip slamming his hips into you, a sight enough to quiver at; dripped in sweat and flopping hair stuck to his forehead. His lips agape towering you. All but a glimpse as he devoured, a warm wave of salted sweetness.

It did little to smother the noise, it just made that craving for him peak- perched in his lap all while he throttled upward. Arms slack over the broad set of shoulders, left panting into his soft neck. Avoiding the fresh scars you had treated, so mindful of them even in the throes of sex.

Worlds apart to what you’d been used to. Nobody had fucked you out like this man, how could someone be so abrasive but so forgiving in the same moment.

You had never such peace, in a vintage dress on the naked lap of Simon Riley. His arms holding you close while sharing a fairytale kiss, holding his shaven jawline.

Resting at the side of him, rubbing circles onto his defined chest. Following old stab wounds, Simon’s nose buried in your messily clad hair, “Have you ever wanted to get married?”

You were caught in a daydream, “Well… I’ve never met the right guy. Never had luck with that,” You turned to look into those gorgeous eyes, “Have you?”

His face unreadable, though his hand rested around you, “I’m 25 and I’ve been in love with this one woman…” His warmth was scalding, or it might have been the jealousy running through your veins. Until the pin dropped.

“You don’t mean…” That knowing look intent on his smirking face, “You mean me?”

Fingers twirling in your hair, “You looked at me like there was something worth looking at… every time you ran into me…” His scarred, much larger hand fitted around yours- lacing his fingers. “You also saved my life, so that goes a long way…”

You were rendered speechless, at ease in the silence while in the safety of Simon’s body. “Don’t let me go… please…”

“Like I ever could…”

And he never did.

Stood in that same church a year later, this time you wore white and Simon in his military formals.

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I hope I did a good job on this… and thank you for reading xx

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