#not looking to expand the collection any time soon

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

In Sunday's chapter the madame mentioned that Aemond brought girls from the brothel to the fortress for his pleasure, you could make the reader one of those girls but she is a virgin and it is her first job

This took so long to write, but I was so invested in the story that it almost got to 3k...oops. I hope you enjoy this Aemond smut <3

Warnings: 18+, smut, virgin!reader, (brief) mention of child prostitution, prostitution, oral (m receiving), p + v

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

As soon as you stepped into the pleasure house for the night, Madam Sylvi collected you. She had been waiting for you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you followed her to the back saloon, fearing the worst. You wondered if there had been a complaint from a customer and if you were about to be fired.

‘’Scrub your body with a sponge and change into this,’’  she said, handing you a muted blue dress that tied at your neck. ‘’You will be working outside the house tonight.’’ 

You frowned, confusion washing over you. ‘’Outside the house?’’ you repeated. 

Whoever this customer was, he must be paying the Madam a lot of gold pieces to have girls brought to him because when you got hired, the Madam was clear about not going home with the customers. It was strictly forbidden. 

She nodded. ‘’A special customer. He used to come here regularly, but after a recent event, he now requests to have girls brought to him. It minimizes the risks of indiscretion.’’

You swallowed hard. You had been working at the pleasure house for a week and were only doing smaller services. A nervous feeling bubbled in your stomach. You knew that one day you would be required to expand your services, but you didn’t think it would be outside the safety of the house. What if this customer was violent with you? 

Madam Sylvi gave you a soft, reassuring smile. ‘’Worry not, child. I trust this customer to take good care of my girls. You will be well-paid and well-fed.’’

Once you were ready, you and two other girls were escorted to the gates of the Red Keep. A guard in armor was waiting for you, and walked you in silence through the winding corridors of the castle that you had never seen before. You kept your gaze low and walked quickly, intimidated by the impressive beauty of the keep and the royal quarters.

The guard stopped in front of two large doors. He knocked, and waited for a moment. One of the doors opened and a man ushered the three of you into the room. His hair was dark, not white. He must be at the service of a figure of the crown.

‘’Stand in line for the Prince Regent,’’ the man said.

The Prince Regent? The name sent a shiver down your spine. You had heard whispers about him, but never saw him in person. Like all Targaryen men, he must be of an alluring beauty. 

The door opened again and you all straightened your posture as Prince Aemond walked in. He was tall and dressed head to toe in black leather. An impressive sword was sheathed on one hip, a dagger on the other. He looked imposing, fierce, and insanely beautiful. 

‘’The girls have arrived, Your Grace. The Madam has sent her finest ones.’’ 

Aemond glanced at the three of you, standing in the middle of the room in your light dresses. ‘’Thank you, Ser Phillip. I will see for myself.’’ 

He moved past the first one, too plain faced for his liking. The girl was hurt by Prince Aemond’s rejection, but she tried to conceal it. You wanted to tell her that she looked good regardless of what the prince thought, but decided against it. You’ll offer her comfort later. Maybe you’ll both need it. 

The second one had large green eyes and nipples so dark you could see them through the thin fabric of her dress. Aemond glanced up and down, and then spoke in a monotone voice. ‘’Turn around.’’

The girl complied, and turned around on the spot. Aemond circled her, like a shark circling its prey. He was cold. Completely emotionless. He reached out to touch her, feeling the smoothness of her skin, looking for imperfections. 

‘’How lovely is she?’’ he said to Ser Phillip. 

‘’Very lovely, Your Grace.’’ 

Aemond pulled the tie of her dress behind her neck, causing the blue fabric to fall and pool down at her feet. The girl gasped softly, not expecting the prince to disrobe her. He reached to grab one of her breasts, her tan skin contrasting with his. 

‘’Do you like my breasts, my Prince?’’ the girl asked, a little too confident that he would pick her.  

‘’Not really.’’ Aemond retracted his hand. 

The girl’s face fell, but he didn’t care. 

He slowly walked towards you. You were terrified. Aemond had been quick to dismiss the two other girls. You didn’t notice any major flaws on either of them. He was extremely picky, or he was looking for something specific.

You tensed under his gaze, his single eye watching you like a cat with his prey. He studied your curves, your face. He took you in slowly. He seemed to like what he saw, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up like the last girl. 

‘’Turn around,’’ he commanded.

You obeyed, turning around slowly. He took in your backside, the shape of your hips. Unlike other girls at the pleasure house, you weren't gifted in the hips area, but Aemond didn't seem to dislike it. He reached out to touch the skin on your lower back. His fingers were long and elegant, and surprisingly gentle. He caressed up your back, pulling your hair to the side with his other hand so he could carry on to your neck. His touch sent shivers through your body. You felt like prey in a cage, and he was the hunter.

Your shoulders trembled slightly, and Aemond noticed. ‘’You look scared, little one,’’ he whispered.

‘’I’m sorry, my Prince— I mean, Your Grace.’’ You bit your cheek, cursing yourself. 

Technically, your title was not wrong, Aemond was still a prince. However, as he was acting as the regent in the stead of King Aegon, ‘Your Grace’ was more appropriate.

Behind you, Aemond smirked. He enjoyed the effect he had on you. ‘’Take the others and leave us,’’ he ordered Ser Phillip. ‘’Use them for yourself if you wish. I care not.’’ 

The man bowed his head and took the two other girls out of the room, leaving you alone with the prince. 

 Once the door closed behind Ser Phillip, Aemond stepped closer to you and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. ‘’You are a sight for sore eyes,'' he whispered, his one eye looking at yours.

His words left you flushed and stunned. You have been called beautiful in many degrading ways since working at the pleasure house. It was nice to hear true compliments. 

‘’I was disappointed with the Madam's girls tonight. All plain faced and overused. I remember my brother wetting his cock in the first one when I was a lad.’’

She didn't seem older than eight and ten, she must have been very young when she started working at Madam Sylvi's. 

''But you,'' Aemond said, letting go of your hand to lift your chin and gently force you to look up, still holding his gaze. 

You were so captivated by the prince's piercing eye that you didn't notice Aemond moving closer. His hand, firm and deliberate, slipped behind your neck, deftly tugging at the tie that held your dress in place. Before you realized what was happening, your dress slipped down your body, pooling silently at your feet, just as it had with the second girl moments before. 

The sudden chill of the room made you shiver, a cool breeze from the large windows brushing against your now-exposed skin.

Aemond ghosted a hand down your neck and over the goosebumps of your chest, watching your nipples turning into peaks invitingly. ‘’You must be a delight to fuck.’’ His palms covered your breasts, weighing them in his hand, kneading them.

‘’I…I would not know. I’ve never laid with a man.’’

Aemond raised a brow at your admission. ‘’Never?’’

‘’Never.’’

‘’How is it possible?’’ he asked. ‘’You work at Madam Sylvi’s pleasure house.’’

‘’I’ve only worked there as of recently. I used to be a baker, but with the False Queen’s blockade, we no longer get food in the city. The place was forced to shut down.’’

You were brief in your explanation, not wanting to bother him with smallfolk problems. It’s not what you were here for. The Madam warned all her girls about speaking of your private life to customers. 

‘’I apologize on the behalf of the crown, although my half-sister is to blame.’’ 

You gave him a nod, accepting his insincere apologies. He was probably taught to speak courtly and politically. ‘’That is kind of you, Your Grace, but I am not here to lament about the smallfolk’s misery.’’ You batted your best innocent eyes. ‘’What does the Prince wishes me to do?’’

Aemond brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. ''Get on your knees and that sweet mouth open wide.'' 

You knelt down and looked back up at him, waiting for another command. He took his time removing his sword belt and unbuckling his leather doublet. You pleasantly took awareness of the absence of a tunic under. 

He reached to unlace his breeches, pulling them down to his thighs and revealing his heavy, half-stiff cock. It was long and thick enough to make a tear drop between your legs. 

''Open wide, little bird,'' Aemond commanded, jerking himself to full hardness before feeding his cock to your awaiting mouth.

You wrapped your lips around him, bobbing down a few times to get him wet and slippery before grasping the bottom of his shaft and swiping your tongue over the slit at the head. Everytime you did this, the customers would moan loudly. 

But it didn't have the same effect on the prince. He stiffened, his jaw clenching, and pushed you down his cock by the back of your head. You were under his command tonight. You'll do what he wants. 

You continued bobbing your head up and down his length slowly as drool slipped past your lips and down his throbbing cock. The image was filthy and beautiful at the same time. You took him deeper, causing him to twitch in your mouth, and stopped before it hit the back of your throat. A quiet moan escaped your lips, his grip in your hair tightening. 

He released into your mouth with long spurts and quiet groans. You tried to swallow all he was giving you, but some ended up dripping down your chin and to your chest, painting your breasts with drops of thick white royal seeds. 

When he was finished, you pulled back and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.  ‘’What does His Grace wishes now?’’ you asked, looking up at him, waiting for his next instruction. 

He motioned for you to stand, a smirk tugging at his lips when he saw his seed on your body. He reached out and smeared it over your nipples. ''Go to my bed and wait for me.''

You nodded and walked across the large room, perceiving the bed in the distance. The sigils of House Targaryen were embroidered on the tapestries behind the headboard. You stared at it for a moment, then heard some shuffling, letting you know Aemond was approaching. 

Quickly, you hopped on the large bed and sat in the middle. 

Your jaw almost dropped when you saw him coming at you, fully naked. He was lean, but not too skinny, his muscles rippling over his body with every move. His chest was pale, and completely bare. 

Everyone says Targaryens are closer to gods than to men. You've never been a believer, but, with a body like his, Aemond Targaryen must have been crafted by the gods.

You tore your gaze away, looking down at your lap. ‘’I did not know how you wanted me…’’ you said, fiddling with your fingers.

Aemond lifted your chin. ‘’That’s alright. I’ll guide you.’’

He pushed you back against the sheets and settled between your legs. His hands felt along your skin, leaving more goosebumps behind. Except this time it wasn't because of the cool wind, but Aemond's simple touch. 

The prince looked down at you; rosy cheeks, bouncy breasts and soft thighs with enough meat to grab. He kissed between your breasts, and continued down your stomach and hips, pulling soft sighs from you as he got closer to your cunt. 

Was he like this with every girl that came to the Red Keep? 

Your question died on your tongue as his thumb pressed delicately against your clit. No customers had ever succeeded in finding it, forcing you to fake pleasure when they fumbled around. You pushed back against his thumb, wanting him to do it again. Aemond obliged, moving in motions you had never tried in the privacy of your bed before.

It was not allowed to kiss, but you didn't protest when his mouth crashed on yours. Your hand found way to his jaw, pulling him closer as he kissed you slowly. You were so enthralled by his lips that you barely noticed the two fingers that ran through your folds, prodding at your tight entrance.

You felt a slight uncomfortableness when his fingers slipped inside, your walls clenching around his digits. With how tight you felt, Aemond was looking forward to sinking his cock and pound into you. 

After a moment, he pulled you knees up, and a loud gasp escaped your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut suddenly as you felt him slowly pushing his cock deep into your walls. Your hands clenched in his hair and clawed at his hard chest, feeling like you were being teared open from the inside. 

You whimpered from the pain and scrunched your face, but Aemond didn't withdraw or pause. He continued pushing into you until he was buried to the hilt, causing you to gasp with wide eyes when you felt him hit something deep within you. 

He looked down at you, softly grazing your cheek with his thumb, then pulled out, watching your expression when he thrusted back in. His movements were steady and slow, getting you used to all the new sensations going through your body. He remembered when he was a young boy, his first time laying with a woman was a lot.

Aemond leaned down to kiss your neck, one hand still holding your knee up while his other grabbed one of your breasts, rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You moaned under him, praising his name and clenching around him as you snaked your arms around his shoulders, needing to anchor yourself. 

It was a pleasant change from what he did with the other girls, but slow sex was a dangerous zone. 

When it became too emotional for him, the prince moved you on your side and took you from behind. He did not let you time to speak before he hammered his hips into you, his heavy balls loudly smacking against your ass every time. The new position had you gripping the sheets, feeling something burning in your lower stomach as he picked up speed with his hips, going faster and deeper until you both reached the edge and your orgasm erupted. 

You made a sound as Aemond pulled out of you, but didn't move. You couldn’t. Your thighs were still shaking from your orgasm and your head was dizzy. So you looked up at the ceiling until your body recovered. 

You didn’t know how many hours had passed since you arrived at the castle, but you were completely exhausted. You will have to walk back to the city soon…unless the prince wanted to fuck you again. A smile curled on your face. You had sex with a Targaryen prince. Better. The Prince Regent had taken your maidenhood.  

Your thoughts got interrupted when Aemond rolled off the bed and stood. He grabbed a black silk robe with dark blue embroideries, and covered his naked body. 

‘’Come,’’ he said without looking back at you.

You followed him through the room, feeling his seed dripping down your inner thigh and leg. You should be embarrassed, but you secretly liked it. 

You stopped in your tracks when you saw a table with a whole feast set up. It was not there when you arrived in the room, meaning someone must have come in while you and the prince were— Red crept to your cheeks, mortified. 

You had not heard the door being opened nor the servants coming in with the food. There was lamb, mince pies, and even honey cakes. Madam Sylvi had not lied when she said you would be well taken care of. 

‘’Help yourself,’’ Aemond said, holding a small honey cake between his fingers. ‘’I assume you have not dined.’’ 

Your stomach was famished. You had been surviving on thinned soup and fish for weeks. The meat and the honey cakes made your mouth water. You missed the sweetness of pastries. 

You took a plate, but before you could start filling it with food, Aemond spoke. 

‘’The tea in the cup is obligatory. To…avoid unwanted bastards,’’ he explained, his eye pointing to a dark cup containing moontea brewed by the maester.

—

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[belovedivies]

Hi its my first time I request

Can you do Raphael from killer Peter manhwa

Like when he get jealous or how did he fell in love

Im sorry if my english was bad

raphael relationship headcanons

cw: minor spoiler, yandere content

LOVE?

Raphael doesn’t “fall in love”. If he takes a liking to someone, they are automatically his property. No questions asked.

With you, however, who neither end up as another dead body in line for cremation nor a slave to his ever-expanding collection… it almost seems like Raphael goes easy on you.

That being said, he’s far from an ideal guy to be around. Your ears will most likely blast from hearing him shout at his underlings every few minutes of the day.

Your presence does help to ease the tension a bit though, and it won’t take as long for Raphael to direct his attention towards you and just forget about his useless lower-ranks.

Royalty treatment to the max, but only when you behave. This man has the most influential organization on Earth in the palm of his hand—you won’t want for anything else when he’s around.

Between the constant chase for Peter’s head and the killers' recruitment to rebuild Glory Club from the ground up, Raphael burns his money on you. Want that special edition of your favorite book but it’s unfortunately sold out? He’ll get it printed as many times as you want, all with your name on the leather cover in goldwork embroidery.

Just thank him after. Give him a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek; Raphael prefers his toy sweet and obedient.

JEALOUS?

Raphael gets jealous, that’s for sure. It’s just something that comes naturally for a love-deprived child.

His servants know better than to stare; longer than five seconds and it’s an instant death. This man will whisper sweet nothings into your ear while his subordinate lies there on the floor, dying in the pool of their own blood.

He likes to think that his possessiveness isn’t that bad. Can you really blame Raphael for going barbaric when one of the Apostles flirts with you during a meeting, right in front of his face?

And the motherfucker even has the audacity to look so smug about it.

With a territorial growl, Raphael pulls you into his lap right after; his hands around your hips feeling like the grip of an anaconda.

“Last warning, Philip.” Before he eventually joins the pile of unnamed bodies down the pit, that is.

Rumors soon go in cycle within Glory about the nature of your relationship with this unpredictable man.

For a plaything, Raphael does favor you a lot. No one can actually tell how long this will go on, or what tragedy shall befall your pitiful existence once the fun is up and he stabs you in the back, literally.

But for now, you’re still untouchable because you’re his. And no men or God shall lay a hand on you unless they wish to suffer a fate worse than death.

♡dividers credit: @xurengu0♡ ♡masterlist♡ a/n: lmao this was a really unexpected ask (no complaints tho) (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖) fyi im not taking any requests yet, but i cooked this one up fast for u. hope u enjoy reading, my lovely yuri ◕‿↼

[fanaticsnail]

Saw a post about how penguins "propose" with rocks. Meaning if you were dating penguin:

He would gift you cool rocks all through your relationship but especially when he's going to propose

OR

2. That engagement ring is about to be MASSIVE

-♡♡

I loved this concept. It needed to be in a fic, ♡♡ Anon. As soon as I saw my asks starting to work again, I began this little penguin fic for you. I hope you enjoy it!

Penguin's Rock Collection

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,450+

Synopsis: Penguin finally tells you about each piece in his extensive rock collection, and you are left in awe when he shows you his crowning piece.

Themes: Penguin x gn!reader, fluff, proposals, Penguin is a thief, he is a kleptomaniac, kisses, proposal, cute things, just let him talk about his rocks.

Mini Part 2, Mini Part 3

When you first began dating Penguin, you were in awe with the small cluster of miscellaneous rocks he kept in his private quarters. There were only three or four lining his bed frame, littering the surface and adding an element to his side of the room that was something distinctly his. While Shachi kept tri-fold posters of various wanted bounties of his friends throughout the Blues, Penguin had a few small rocks. 

Each time you visited him in his quarters as opposed to yours, you witnessed the collection grow in vast number and size. Not before long, the shelves and cabinets in his shared room with Shachi was overwhelmed with rocks of differing textures and sizes: all labeled and tagged with the appropriate title, size, weight, and color. You laughed at the disdain Shachi would pull over his face, the scowl permanently plastered on his mouth as he flicked the overlaying cabinet with his toes and pushed it further onto Penguin’s side of the room from his recline against his bed.

As you show interest in his hobby, asking before touching any that seemed to catch your interest, and he would tell you the story behind it. Reclining back on his bed and propped onto his elbows, he would watch you with a soft smile drawn up on his lips.

“That one was from Swallow Island, just outside Wolf’s house,” he gestured to the pebble in your hands, “Nicked it from his front garden. Wanted something to remember him by.” You offered him a soft smile before placing the rock back onto the side, just above its correlating slip of paper. 

“And this one?” you ask, cocking your head to the side and gently tracing the contours of the soft shell-like stone. 

“That one was from the first time I met you,” he uttered quietly to himself, slowly stepping over his blankets to draw himself at your side, “You were wearing that green shirt. Took that piece of jade from the wall near the beach.” You furrowed your brows in confusion, sneaking a look at Shachi as he attempted to remain nonchalant while reading a comic in the corner of the room. 

“You remember my shirt?” you asked Penguin, puzzled at the attentiveness he took at the encounter. He slowly stepped over to the collection, gently brushing his hands over them before turning back to you. 

“I remember a lot of things. The rocks-... they-...” he sucked his lips into his mouth, stifling what he wanted to truly say. Shaking his head, he returned his hat-shrouded eyes to you and offered you a smile, “...They tell stories. They help me remember. Wolf, Law, even this stupid asshole.” His thumb gestured to Shachi with his thumb, who crudely elevated his middle finger in return without removing his eyes from the pages. 

“Oh?” you ask in response, smiling and raising your hand up to the cabinet, placing your weight coyly on your forearm. Further puzzlement overtook you as you peered at the expanded array of rocks, gems, golds and pebbles. “Pen, there’s quite a few here, honey. Surely you don’t have a story behind each rock you’ve stolen, you kleptomaniac.” 

He chuckled at your accusation, turning away from the shelf and rummaging around in his draws. The soft rustle had you confused, attempting to peer over his shoulder while he blocked your sight with the curve of his ass and broad shoulders. 

“Our first date, the time we spent in Sabaody Archipelago together, the beach incident where you pushed me into the water-,” he listed off, prompting you to interject with your rebuttal. 

“-I did no such thing! You fell, I laughed, and you pulled me in!” you defended yourself, moving away from the cabinet and approaching him just as he stood, “You tried to drown me.” 

“I did not,” he gasped, feigning shock and clutching both hands to his heart, “You were flailing about and I was trying to hold you still.” He chuckled at you, watching as your lips fell into a cute pout. 

“You ruined my pants by drenching them in salt water-,” you spoke, falling short when he leaned down and pressed his nose against yours. Gently rubbing the pointed tip of his nose against yours, he cooed down in response.

“-Your blue pants,” he whispered, removing his nose from dancing with yours and nodding his head back towards the cabinet, “Aquamarine from the bottom of the sea where we were swimming. Had to go back later and dive for it, I’d hope you know. Hard to do that in the dark.” 

He removed himself from your embrace and cradled something small against his chest. 

“And what have you got there, Pen? Quartz from the first time we put on our Heart Pirate uniforms together?” you teased him, scrunching your nose and softly cradling his cheeks in both of your palms. He chuckled at you, reaching up to remove his hat and place it on your own head while cradling the object against his chest with his other hand. 

“Pirate uniforms, no. Heart, yes,” he whispered intimately, withdrawing his head from yours and gazing his crystalline blue eyes deeply into your own orbs. Withdrawing his hand from his chest, he presented you with a small rectangular box lined in painted gold. Atop a small cushion lying in the center, a band of woven gold with a small, unpolished stone lying on the top. 

“This was from the moment I knew my heart belonged to you,” the softness from his confession was depicted in the deep baritone, his stature slowly sinking onto his knees, “I collected all of these rocks in the hopes of finding the perfect moment to give you this one. It’s-.”

“-Is this amethyst, Pen?” you fawned over the rock, studying its shape with your lips parted and brows triangulating up to the center of your forehead. Tears swelled in your eyes as you watched his own glaze over with a soft mist of joy. 

“From when we got separated from the crew, you sprained your ankle, and then argued with me when I tried to look after you,” he nodded in confirmation, his smile drawing up his face the longer he reminded you, “We slept in the cave, the whole thing covered in amethyst stalactites, and you let me hold you against me.” 

“But Pen...” you bit back a sob, gently reaching down and cupping his cheek in your palm, “We weren’t even together at that point-.”

“-But that’s the moment I knew my heart would always belong to you,” he darted his eyes between yours while softly nuzzling against your palm, “What would you say? If I were to give this to you as an extension of myself? To promise to love and care for you always, to be by your side as your husband? Would you-...? Will you-...?” He choked on his words, attempting to gage your reaction by holding his eyes to your own. 

You nod your head at first slowly, before your enthusiasm took over. Bobbing your head, you slink to your knees in front of him and throw yourself into his arms. Lips colliding in a messy clatter of teeth and tongues, you whimper against him as tears begin to roll down your cheeks in heavy waves. 

“So, I take that’s a yes, then?” A lazy voice called from the other side of the room, prompting you and Penguin to laugh into the kiss before breaking away from it. You called over to Shachi, without tearing your eyes away from Penguin’s.

“It’s definitely a yes,” you nod. He hastily grabs for your left hand, removing the ring from the pillow and nodding at you to gain consent before dragging it over your unity finger to the knuckle. 

Several bangs drew you away from this moment of solitude, Shachi’s balled fist colliding against the metal wall of the submarine while shouting: “It’s a yes-!” at the top of his lungs. 

Cheers reverberated in the hallway, prompting you to shake your head at the reaction from the entirety of the members aboard the Polar Tang. You gaze down at your hand, admiring the way the metal shone over your skin and danced the lights from the crystal throughout the room. Penguin couldn’t take his eyes off you: noticing the way you beamed down at his ring and wore his most prized rock with pride. 

He’ll work up the courage to tell you how much trouble it was to learn how to cast gold, welt the settings, and how he had to humble himself in front of Eustass Kid and Massacre Soldier Killer to learn how to do it properly. But that story, and its correlating, stolen, bismuth paper weight, would be for another time. For now, all he wanted to do was scoop you up, hold you close, and gush to everyone he knew how much he was in love with his beautiful fiance. 

And you would do the same.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[zhivaoverdrive]

Filling the Void Breast Expansion and Butt Expansion via Saline Expander Implants.

But you've seen the image, too late.

Each image from the poster wall is available in full on the extras gallery, some with their own small stories.

Have fun.

----- As I pushed open the door, my eyes widened in horror. Lani lay sprawled across her bed, her body resembling a collection of medicine balls that had been inflated one too many times. Her breasts hung from her chest like overfilled water balloons, threatening to burst at any moment. 

The soft light cast by the lamp on her nightstand danced across her skin, highlighting every vein and crease as if trying to accentuate the sheer magnitude of her transformation. The implants themselves seemed to be straining against Lani's skin, like four enormous balloons about to burst at any moment.

Lani's eyes snapped towards mine, wide with surprise and shame. She looked guilty, her face flushed like a person who'd just been caught cheating. Her gaze darted around the room as if searching for a way to make this situation disappear, but the evidence was undeniable. It was like trying to hide a skyscraper behind a curtain – impossible.

I took in the scene: her already-enormous frame now straining against the seams of reality; empty saline solution bottles littering the room like discarded confetti; and Lani's body... altered, distended by the relentless stream of liquid she'd forced into it. The four orbs of saline inside her seemed to be straining against their containment, as if desperate to escape were it not for Lani's stretched skin holding on with all its might.

"It's not that big of a deal," she said, her voice laced with justification. "I'm fine. Just... just this little bit more..."

I took a deep breath before speaking. "Lani, I know we agreed monthly would be the limit," I reminded her gently.  "But you know how close you came to... complications. And yet here you are again, doing it without supervision."

Lani looked at me pleadingly, her eyes welling up with tears. "Please," she whispered, the air thickening with shame and desperation.

The shame and desperation, struggled to come to terms with being caught. AGAIN.

On one hand, I was impressed by her willingness to take control of her body and push the boundaries of what society considers "OK".

But I was also worried about how far she was taking things. Like, expanders... that's some next-level stuff.

And not just that - Lani had taken her body modification game to a whole new level by having expanders in her butt as well.

I couldn't help but wonder what kind of discomfort she must be going through with those things implanted in her backside. And yet...part of me couldn't help but admire her spirit.

I get that Lani wanted to change herself, but this was just crazy. "You're not even trying to hide what you're doing," I said, shaking my head in amazement. "You're trying to turn yourself into a human balloon or something!"

But as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had spoken too bluntly.

"You're using expanders like they're some kind of...I don't know, saline-filled superpower or something!" I said, trying to lighten my tone.

"I just need this one more time," she said quietly, her voice filled with reverence.  "I promise I'll slow down after this. It's not like..."

She trailed off, looking down at the floor as if embarrassed by her own words. But that did not last long.

Lani gazed up at the posters on her wall. Her gaze lingered on the statuesque figures, their bodies seemingly defying gravity itself - their breasts rose up from their chests like mountains, butts jutted out far behind them.

"Look at them," Lani said quietly, her voice filled with awe and longing. "They're doing it... Just look at them - so many people adore them, that one's been on TV!"

As Lani admired these perfect forms of femininity, the competing idea inside of her believed she was still the waifish girl she'd been years ago stewed. Trapped between two conflicting realities unable to be reconciled.

"And honestly, what's another litre of saline when you're already..."

I didn't push her for more. Another unnecessary question. A different tack was in order.

"Lani, baby," I said carefully,

"You've never removed ANY saline before. I'm not even exactly sure if we can. What if this is a one-way process without going back to the doctor..."

Her eyes dropped, and she nodded slowly. "I know, but what's the worst that could happen? You'll still l-" "Ah," I interrupted her, trying to sound more reassuring than concerned. "The weight of... well, let me ask you this: how much saline are we talking about here?"

Lani looked down at her chest, a sheepish expression spreading across her face. "I've got 10 litres in each boob.."

My eyes widened in shock. Ten litres per implant? That was... that was a lot of saline. A lot more than last time.

"And?" I prompted, trying to keep my tone light despite the gravity of the situation.

Lani faltered for a moment before she spoke up again. "And... um... well, I might have also exceeded 10 litres in each butt cheek."

My jaw dropped. She couldn't be serious. Could she?

"Lani," I said softly, trying to keep my tone gentle despite the shock and concern I was feeling. "You're telling me that you've got a total of 40,000cc saline forced in your body?"

Lani nodded sheepishly, her face flushing with embarrassment.

I glanced at Lani's ass and saw the telltale signs of strain: deep creases in her skin, fine lines tracing the contours of each implant, and an eerie sheen that hinted at stretchmarks. Her veins stood out like blue highways, pulsing with effort as they struggled to deliver oxygen to her skin.

"The weight of this much saline is crushing you," I said firmly. "You've already been struggling with everyday tasks for months now. You're going to continue to struggle even more as time goes on. Your body simply can't keep up."

Lani's gaze faltered as she tried to consider the consequences of her actions.

"What does the future hold?" I continued. "Don't even get me started on trying to cook dinner or do laundry. You're being short-sighted! What happens when you can't even get out of bed in the morning?"

The silence between us grew thick with unspoken understanding – a tacit agreement that more caution was needed, but also a recognition that we were both too afraid to seek help.

She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.

"You're right," she said quietly. "I'll need you".

[mywitchyblog]

Masterlist :

Greetings, fellow shifters and curious minds!

As my blog continues to grow and expand, I've recognized the pressing need for a comprehensive master list to help navigate the wealth of information I've shared as of know and that i'm planning on posting in the future. This list will serve as your guide through the various topics and discussions I've explored in the realm of reality shifting.Those that do not have a hyperlink are those under works that will be soon published.

My tarot Services :

Controversial Topics: In this section, you'll find links to in-depth essays I've crafted addressing some of the most debated and sensitive subjects within the Reality Shifting community. These pieces aim to provide balanced, thoughtful perspectives on complex issues.

Age Changing: An exploration of the ethical considerations and personal growth aspects of altering one's age in Desired Realities (DRs).

Race Changing: A nuanced discussion on the practice of shifting into different racial identities, examining both the potential for increased empathy and the concerns of cultural appropriation.

Permashifting and Respawning: An analysis of these advanced shifting concepts, including their implications, potential benefits, and associated risks.

The Ethical and Psychological Implications of Murder in Reality Shifting : This article examines the ethical and psychological concerns of committing murder within shifted realities, drawing on discussions about the moral ramifications and potential mental health impacts, as explored in shifting communities like on Tumblr.

Educational Content : This section offers insightful articles and guides on Reality Shifting, designed to deepen your understanding and improve your practice.

The Importance of Spiritual Hygiene : Learn essential spiritual hygiene practices for Reality Shifting, including protection techniques and energy cleansing, to ensure your well-being during and after shifts.

How ShiftTok Destroyed the Reality Shifting Community : Explore how platforms like TikTok have spread misinformation, fostered toxic behaviors, and diluted authentic Reality Shifting practices, impacting the community negatively.

How Awareness Works in Reality Shifting : Discover the role of consciousness in Reality Shifting, including theories on awareness, the balance between conscious and subconscious minds, and techniques to enhance your shifting experience.

Why Having Multiple Significant Others in Different Realities Isn’t Cheating : This piece discusses the nature of relationships across different realities, arguing that having multiple significant others in various shifted realities challenges traditional views on fidelity.

Fetishization in Reality Shifting: A Critical Examination of Age and Race Changing A critical look at the ethical concerns of changing age and race in shifted realities, highlighting the dangers of fetishization and the need for culturally sensitive practices.

Shiftcraft: Here you'll discover a collection of witchcraft practices specifically tailored to complement and enhance your shifting journey. This includes:

Shifting-oriented spells and rituals

Crystal and herb recommendations for shifting

Moon phase and astrological timing for optimal shifting experiences

Meditation and visualization techniques to boost shifting abilities

Interview with Hekate about Reality Shfting

Interview with Hekate about Reality Shifting part 2

Each of these categories contains multiple articles, essays, and guides. Feel free to explore the topics that resonate with you, and don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions or suggestions for future content.

You can find my upcoming posts Here :

Remember, this master list will be regularly updated as new content is added. Happy shifting, and may your journeys across realities be enlightening and transformative!

[saikira999]

~ Headcannons for TWST characters playing Minecraft

This is a continuation to the answer to the last request!

I also remind you that English is not my native language, and if you find any errors, please let me know.

Another parts about:

Azul and Lilia!

Idia and Malleus!

Riddle and Leona!

[Jade]

One day, Jade was offered to play Minecraft....:

1) "A game about blocks...? Haha, it's a really cute idea, but I don't think I can find the time for it."

“There are huge mushrooms the size of trees, and You can live on a mushroom island and collect mushroom soup from mushroom cows...”

"...😊"

2) He downloaded the game that evening.

3) Before the game, briefly studied it and the topic of minecraft mushrooms, and when He went to the server, the first thing He did was go look for mushroom biomes.

Azul tried to persuade Him to settle in His village (Not in any case for to exploit the eel in a cubic version of the Mostro Lounge, or at least make a workbench to begin with), But Jade simply left.

leech wandered around the server, and soon found the nearest mushroom biome, adjacent to the village of Riddle (Poor Riddle), and quickly occupied it, starting to build a base right under the huge red mushroom.

4) When he learned that mushroom blocks cannot be obtained by hand or with ordinary tools, His reaction was literally: "....😊.....💀"

5) Fortunately, the kind-hearted Riddle gave Him a pickaxe enchanted with silk touch, in exchange for the fact that Jade would not allow her beloved brother to wander around Their and Riddle’s territories.

6) Now, He can get more huge mushrooms to build a GIANT mushroom and live in Him!

7) As mentioned above, His home is a giant red mushroom, proudly towering above the other mushrooms and the neighboring birch grove. The inside of his hat may not be so spacious, but over the course of the game, Jade will significantly expand it so that only the most necessary things can fit: a turquoise bed, chests, a workbench, stoves, decorative pots with mushrooms, etc. You can climb the stairs, and below, around the mushroom king, the Leech will build a mushroom garden (there are never too many mushrooms) with a small lake into which he will place a couple of fish from a bucket.

8) It’s even a pity that no one wants to come to visit Him.... One day, when Yuu came to visit the eel, He fed Them a couple of bowls of mushroom stew and gave Them a couple of dozen more bowls with Him, because His chests were already bursting with stews.

9) It seems that in this game, Jade is not interested in anything other than His mushroom kingdom, but sometimes, He gets out to other players to exchange, trade mushroom stew (No one buys it) or just out of curiosity. Once, an eel even walked along the seabed and found an underwater temple, but soon, He got bored with the ocean and He climbed out to the shore again, looking for mushrooms. He also often walks in the mountains, but believes that real mountains are much more interesting.

10) In general, Jade is a neutral player, but this does not mean that it is worth angering him or destroying his mushroom house... No, He certainly will not grief in response, or start a sword fight with an idiot in the game...

...He would just find and visit Him in reality....

11) The main goal for Jade is not even to kill the dragon, but to find a mushroom island on which He will build a second base and breed mooshroom...And when He, after driving a boat across the ocean for hours, finally finds muddy water and an island of the same color with mushrooms and creepy-looking cows, His smile for a split minute becomes truly sincere.

Expect that you will not get Him out of there for the next few days.

12) He built a new base, similar to the first one, and squandered all the tags on mooshrooms, naming Them all after mushrooms known to Him.

13) His favorite is Boletus. One day, She was struck by lightning, which turned the red cow brown and this made Her stand out from the crowd. Boletus lives right above, in the cap of a giant mushroom, along with Jade (Don't ask how He got Her there).

14) In a sudden change of mood, Floyd once shorn more than half of Jade's cows, making them ordinary, and almost killed a Boletus. In response to this, Jade simply left the game.... And then Floyd left the game...

And then, Floyd, for some reason unknown to anyone, did not enter the game for two weeks....

15) When the eel has completely conquered the mushrooms of the upper world, it’s time to conquer the fungi of the lower world!

Jade quickly found the crimson and warped forests and killed a decent number of the local inhabitants, so that no one would interfere with Him collecting precious fungi and their huge versions... Although, of course, He did not really understand why the Large distorted and crimson fungi were more like trees, but on the other hand, He will be able to update the interior (Jade will decorate His bases mainly with turquoise boards and decorations of warped mushrooms).

16) Oh, those long-legged ugly guys flopping around in the lava also like mushrooms? Great, so Jade will have new pets....

Jade will make a separate, third base in Nether, after He tried to drag several striders to his mushroom island, but They all died due to the rain... But in His new one, more spacious and richly decorated with various hellish vines, mushrooms and the items house will make lava pool for His new friends, whom Jade periodically feeds and breeds.

17) Jade made his own flags with mushrooms on them and hung them wherever possible.

18) Didn’t go to fight the dragon because there were no mushrooms in the End, which means there was nothing interesting.

19) Most likely, He will get bored with the game in a month or two, and each time He will go there less and less, until he finally leave, leaving His beloved mushroom cows and striders to wait for His master for eternity...

20) ...Unless Yuu accidentally mentions next to Him the existence of various mods and add-ons, and the eel goes to delicately request (This looks more like a polite threat than a request) Idia for to install a couple of mods on a dozen new mushrooms and related with them biomes, mobs and even decorative items and food...

[Floyd]

Despite the threat of being strangled, the Yuu still approached Floyd to call Him to Minecraft:

1) "Ahhh...? Shrimpy wants to play with blocks? Hehehe, this game looks stupid... You're lucky that I'm bored, otherwise I would have squeezed you long ago...~ Although... Come here, little shrimp! Play with ME, not with these stupid blocks!

(Insert aggressively tender Floyd sounds here)

2) After a session of tight hugs, after which all of Yuu’s bones began to crack, Floyd finally downloaded the game and, logging into the server, brought with him fear and horror to all the players in the area (Especially Riddle).

3) Definitely homeless. Floyd is not interested in construction and mostly hangs around, sometimes intimidating other players.

Of course, Azul invited Him to settle in His village, still naively wanting to exploit another eel in the second Mostro, but after Floyd started a fight there and blew up the wall of the restaurant (I beg you, don’t ask where this damned eel dug up dynamite at the very beginning of the game ), Azul kicked out politely sent Floyd outside to play.

4) Floyd is an unstable player. At first He is quite peaceful and calm, wanders aimlessly from side to side, watching the others and sometimes scaring other players, and after a couple of minutes, he brutally beats mobs or players, causes brawls and joins griefer raids. Floyd is the second villain of the server after Leona and the players are really afraid of him and even a couple of times, Idia had to kick him out of the server, but Floyd always came back using His brother or Azul as a ticket to enter.

5) If Jade is a tactical and careful player who uses tactics, evasion and shields during the battle, then Floyd is a tank who crushes everything in His path, not leaving alive a single monster or innocent animal he sees... And sometimes players.

6) Once, He beat Idia, armed to the teeth and dressed in netherite armor, with raw salmon to death.

7) Constantly forgets that he cannot breathe and swim quickly underwater, and is sincerely indignant when he dies at the bottom due to lack of oxygen.

8) Periodically, Floyd spends the night either with other players (Sometimes without their permission), or in the open air.

9) His favorite pastime is parkour and climbing everything possible. Sometimes Floyd jumps on the buildings of other players, original buildings in Minecraft, or a couple of times he even builds a “challenge path” for himself so as not to get bored. Sometimes Jade and Yuu help Him with construction.

10) Ortho will teach Him how to create his own worlds and install mods and parkour maps, which, surprisingly, will keep the eel busy for a long time.

11) He is absolutely invincible in joint parkour competitions held on the server and even beat Idia and Lilia in a surprisingly short time, for which he received a well-enchanted set of netherite armor... Which He almost never uses.

12) He spends a lot of time at the bottom and has already killed all the drowned people and even took a couple of tridents from them, which, however, he hardly uses and hits his enemies with the first thing that comes to hand.

13) He openly hates mushroom biomes, and only went to visit his brother a couple of times, and only because other players didn’t let him spend the night, and he didn’t want to sleep outside... And also because, there’s a little goldfish cute village nearby.

14) Of all the players, he most often pesters Riddle, sometimes starting playful fuss with Him, which usually ends in a fight or destruction of His village.

15) He also likes to mischief and mix things up in Riddle’s chests, interfere with Jamil in His kitchen on the server, distract Azul or mess with Jade... Yuu, He also often annoys, preventing Them from doing what they love and begging for attention.

16) He constantly dies and gets very angry about it.

17) Single-handedly killed the wither... With the same raw salmon...

18) Enters the server with volatile interest. Sometimes, the game suddenly becomes boring for him and Floyd doesn't log in for a few days, and then suddenly returns to make a new mess.

19) Floyd was among those players who went to kill the dragon (Ortho persuaded Him to put on armor and take with Him at least something other than raw salmon)...

And He took the raw cod.

And in The End, He was mainly busy gnawing the endermen running after other players and the dragon and sometimes switching to the dragon, continuing the aggressive beating of everyone possible... After the endermen and the dragon, He would switch to the players.

20) After defeating the dragon, Floyd played Minecraft for some time until He finally got tired of it and forgot about the server.

Perhaps He will still occasionally enter the game for the sake of parkour, but parkour in the game will never compare to the flight of a free eel on the walls and roofs of a college, under the loud cursing of teachers and the director, in reality.

Thank you for your requests! I will also be happy to receive new requests and reblogs! :D

I was asked to make headcanons about freshmen. I'll deal with it a little later~

[dailyfigures]

Do you have pictures of your personal collection if you’re comfortable sharing? Hearing abt the miku figures u have made me curious! Love the blog as always ⭐️

thank you anon! honestly i have been waiting for someone to ask me that so yes! i do!!! :)

little disclaimer is that my collection is always a work in progress so i don't love how some of my shelves look rn but it changes all the time so that's okay!

here's a general overview and i'll do a shelf by shelf tour under the cut!

starting off with my favourite madoka magica set! i love how dynamic the poses are and they look so badass but delicate at the same time <3

and my second favourite madoka magica set! this madoka was actually my first scale figure ever :)

ofcourse i need a homumado shelf <3 i don't usually put non-scale figs in here but that sitting homura just matches the madoka too well so i had to make an exception!

i try to have a theme for each shelf so as you see this one is like a traditional clothing shelf!

this is my halloweeney shelf! definitely will be expanding this in the future as i am obsessed with halloween <3

these ladies don't have much in common but they all have some hot/deep pink in them so i still like them together!

this is my racing/street style miku shelf! (it's starting to sound far fetched but these shelves all make perfect sense to me ok)

ok this one is not supposed to be like this but neither of them fit anywhere else so they're just chilling down here for now. will change as soon as i get new figs that match either of them!

my beautiful goth girlfriends! they can't really hold hands physically but they are holding hands mentally <3

my beloved annoying men <3 btw dabi is a 1/8 scale and gojo is a 1/7 so it's crazy how big dabi turned out i was so surprised!

chainsaw shelf! sadly this denji turned out kinda bad but together with bishoujo ash williams i do kinda like him....they're cool together :)

and lastly the rest of my horror bishoujo ladies! this shelf is a little empty rn but i have the friday the 13th one, the hellraiser one, the other beetlejuice version (striped jacket), the other pennywise version (coloured instead of monochrome) and the other ash williams version (groovy version aka extra bloody) in the mail rn so that's super exciting!

that's my whole scale figure display! i have some scale figures in boxes that i'm planning on selling and i obviously didn't include any of my nendoroids and prize figures, since those are mostly in boxes rn until i figure out a good way to display them.

this was very fun for me to talk about so thank you so much for asking anon and thanks for reading everyone!!!! <3 and let me know if you have any questions about anything!

[21wanderer]

Final Goal

Body a day - #30: Pecs

The final entry in @max-the-many's challenge.

“Paul? Why?” those were Lucas’s last words before he collapsed on the floor, his hand still pressed against his throat, his gaze becoming vacant. I chuckle, “you really haven’t figured out yet? I’m not Paul,” I pinch my cheek and pull, making my face distort grotesquely as Paul’s face detaches from my own underneath. I let go and Paul’s face snaps back in place, restoring my disguise. There’s a brief expression of soul-crushing horror on Lucas’s face, but then it disappears as the sparks in his eyes fade.

“Paul was a really nice disguise, as was your other friend, Stefan, but they were just the means to an end,” I say gloatingly to the unconscious hunk on the floor, kneeling to stay level with him, “you were always my final goal!”

There’s no response, Lucas seems to be well on his way in the conversion, soon he’ll be ready to wear.

“All it took was a couple of bodysuits to get close to you, your friends will become part of my collection, but you – you are the crown jewel.”

I begin to undress, taking off Paul’s bike leathers, his undersuit and the rest of his motorcycle equipment.

I place my hands on Paul’s forehead and begin to push it backwards, causing his mouth to expand for my own head to poke through it. Feeling the air on my original face feels strange and weirdly unfamiliar, but I’m not staying like this for long, once I’m inside Lucas, I’ll never take him off again.

Slowly I squeeze out of Paul’s skin, struggling to get my body out of his. It isn’t exactly a graceful transition as I clumsily pull out of Lucas’s biker friend, then again nobody is going to know.

I let go of Paul’s skin, letting it collapse on the floor as I eye up my new possession: Lucas Wilson.

He’s ready. I lift up the hollowed-out skinsuit, that used to be Lucas. I was aroused and excited with making this my new permanent body, but I wanted to savour the moment. I strip Lucas, pulling off his clothes piece by piece, placing them in a neat little pile, smelling them as I remove them – it’s a musk, I can’t wait to make my own.

Stripped naked like myself, I admire Lucas’s beautiful and sculpted body, those gorgeous muscles, especially those pecs. And they are all mine!

I carry the Lucas-suit into his bedroom, technically it’s my bedroom now – almost. I place it on the bed, even when deflated and visibly hollow, this body still looks amazing.

I run my fingers gently across his impressive chest, his defined abs, (they aren’t exactly rock-hard, but they will be, once I’m inside,) his well-endowed… his thick thighs and calves. I also run my fingers down his massive arms, from his broad shoulders, to his toned biceps and triceps and big hands. Finally I run my fingers across his angelic, handsome face, distorted by the lack of a skull, but still beautiful. I’m insatiable and feel like I’m about to burst with excitement, I can’t delay this any further.

I grab Lucas and stretching his mouth wide open, I begin to slither in. It’s always such an indescribably arousing feeling to pull on a bodysuit. It’s warm, smooth and squishy inside, and I slid my feet in like I had done a few times before taking my time to get the toes in. I pull Lucas up around my legs, his muscular legs now back to life. I slip his ass over mine and I slip my own meat into his; and like pulling it on like a condom, it springs to life, perfectly reflecting how aroused I am.

I pull Lucas’s mouth further up my torso, making my flat and featureless stomach disappear, and be replace with Lucas’s sculpted abs. I keep pulling, so that I can get the pecs almost in place, then I plunge my hands into Lucas’s impressive arms. Stretching out Lucas’s mouth wide enough to pass my shoulders, I finally get the upper torso into place. Running Lucas’s finger across my wide shoulders, muscular arms and perfect pecs, I smile to myself, before I flex hard, the muscles respond flawlessly. They are ready to serve their new master. I look at my reflection, seeing my face one final time, I must admit, that this pristine body suits me, but I want it all. I then stretch Lucas’s mouth one final time to stretch it over my head, then I let go with a snap. It’s dark for a moment, but I soon open my eyes and see the room again through new eyes.

The second-to-last thing I have to do is to push Lucas’s facial features into place. Staring insatiably as my handsome features fall into place, the facial massage has done it’s trick, I pull a few faces, it’s perfect. “Looking good, Lucas, looking really good,” I say to the stud in the mirror with my new voice.

I rub my new pecs, I’ve dreamt of rubbing hands my hands all over them since I first saw them on Lucas’s social media, and now they’re all mine! I twist the nipples, each placed on a big slab of muscle. My muscles!

Finally I inject myself with another syringe, I am making this process irreversible. I am Lucas, now and forever. I have never tried this injection before, but it feels like I’m bubbling inside, binding with my new skin, I can feel my senses sharpen and I feel ‘more real’ than ever.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I laugh, a fiendish laughter expressing my sheer delight of my accomplishment. I rub my nether regions, not able to contain myself any longer and a chill rushes through me, down my spine as I climax satisfyingly. Not bothering to clean up the stains right now, and done with what would only be the first of many sessions of self-gratification, I walk out of the bedroom, where I left the Paul-bodysuit. I smirk to myself, then I grab Paul’s motorcycle leathers, the ones I arrived in, and begin pulling them on my naked body. I’m now bigger and stronger than Paul, so the suit is going to get tested to see if it can contain my new muscular frame. I had no reason to worry, the suit is a perfect fit. It looks even better on Lucas me, than on Paul. Lucas doesn’t have a lot of motorcycle gear, but I’ll make sure to change that, in the hallway I find Lucas’s own motorcycle boots and gloves, well, my motorcycle boots and gloves, both several sizes bigger than what I wore before, but now they fit perfectly on my feet and hands. Riding a motorcycle as Paul was incredible, but going as Lucas is going to be many times better, but it’s going to have to be a short ride for now, there’s so much else I have to do - to put this new body to the test. Pecs and everything!

[awoogayanderes]

ME AND MY HUSBAND

➪ pairing : fyodor dostoevsky x reader

➪ sypnosis : in which you start having your regrets of being engaged to fyodor, unfortunately for you, it’s too late

➪ warnings : gaslighting, manipulation, unhealthy relationship, religious practices

➪ other notes : though this fanfic is fem implied, they/them pronouns are used, only “wife” is mentioned, im also not entirely sure how wedding vows work but i tried my best

you didn’t know why you accepted. maybe it was a glimpse of hope you saw, or maybe it was fyodor’s threatening eyes. “will you marry me,” four simple words that you knew would change the course of your life. you did love fyodor, but it was more fear that made you stay with him. even then, you accepted and here you are now, shopping for your wedding attire.

you were with sigma, knowing that nikolai would make it about himself or fyodor rather than you. you admired sigma, mostly always collected despite being crushed on the inside. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy being more with him than fyodor. “how about this one?” the young man asked handing you something to try on. “i’ll try it on,” you say sadly smiling, regretting saying yes.

it looked perfect on you. wrapping around the right parts, you knew this was the one. sigma sweetly smiled at you and complimented how it looked on you. yet he couldn’t help but notice that your smile didn’t expand. “is something troubling you,” he asked confused. sigma didn’t know much about weddings but he knew that those who are getting married, should be over the moon excited, so why weren’t you..?

“do you think it was the right choice for me to accept fyodor’s proposal?” you unintentionally blurted out. sigma’s eyes widened in shock. noticing his expression, you retracted your statement. “sorry, just pretend i never said that, just some stupid pre-marital doubts,” you say hoping that sigma won’t question you. thankfully, he just nodded, staying quiet.

as you returned home, if you can even call it that, you decided that you would talk to fyodor, he would ease your thoughts, right? “fedya,” you go up to him as he types away on his keyboard leading to many monitors. he hums, letting you know he’s listening without looking at you. “do you think we’re getting married too soon?” his typing stops as he looks at you.

“you’re saying you don’t love me anymore,” he asks with a frown on his face. “no, i’m not saying that,” you plead. “it seems as if you don’t appreciate my effort,” fyodor’s calmly said. “i-i do,” you say, regretting ever coming up to him. he stands up, walking towards you, placing a delicate hand to your cheek. “then get with the program,” he smiles, knowing that he can destroy you with that one touch of his palm.

almost like a fever dream, time moves quickly and wobbly, now here you are in your wedding attire. you didn’t have anyone to walk you down the isle, it was almost embarrassing. ivan was the officiant, unsurprisingly. you don’t pay attention to any of his words, instead you look at your surroundings. you see only nikolai and sigma sitting in the audience silently watching. you feel fyodor’s hands squeeze yours.

it was his silent sign to not embarrass him and start paying attention. “fyodor dostoyevsky, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect them, forsaking all others, and holding only unto them forevermore?” ivan asks fyodor, “i do,” he says staring at you almost lovingly like. “y/n l/n, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, obey, and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?”

obey? that wasn’t in fyodor’s vows, why was it in yours? again, fyodor squeezed your hands. “i do,” you murmured timidly. with that said, fyodor said his final vow, “in the name of god, i, fyodor dostoyevsky take you, y/n l/n, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. this is my solemn vow.” with this he put the ring on your finger.

you parroted the same vows, “in the name of god, i, y/n l/n take you, fyodor dostoyevsky, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. this is my solemn vow.” you put the ring on his finger shaking as you do so. “with these rings, i thee wed,” ivan said after the formal interchange.

“by the power vested in me by the name of the holy spirit, i now solemnly declare you husband and wife. let no one put asunder those that have been joined together today in the presence of almighty god. you may now seal this declaration with a kiss,” ivan declared, soon followed by you and your husband kissing. it was the final seal that gave your soul to satan.

[writing-for-life]

Dream’s Therapist

Siblings

I am in the last throes of preparing with previous session notes (Intake, Insomnia, Nightmares, Emotions, Parents) when my receptionist informs me that the client has arrived. Slightly early again, but we are getting used to it at this point, to the degree that it would seem patently strange if he were on time or late. She informs me he has, as usual, brought a book to pass the time.

When the client walks into my office, I note said book is “Molloy” by Samuel Beckett, which he holds in his right hand. A moment later, it has disappeared, and I catch myself wondering where to. In any case, his body language tells me he is not in good spirits today: The coat stays on, he does not talk at all (usually, he at least greets politely, if slightly formally), and he just takes his seat without waiting for me to bid him to sit (which he usually does). As he sits down, he huffs (I can’t call it anything else).

I decide to bring up the client’s homework at the beginning of the session to get it over and done with. The question was whether it were truly paradoxical to allow himself to dream while thinking he is responsible for other people’s dreams.

DT: How did the homework go?

Dream (I notice he purses his lips): I do not wish to talk about it.

DT: You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you could…

Dream (He actually interrupts me): Then what is the point (I notice he does that overly plosive T again) of coming here?

DT (It’s one of those days again): Well, it is you who said you don’t wish to talk about your homework? (He glares at me, pouts but stays stumm.) Look, it isn’t really for me to tell you what the point of coming here is, to quote you. Even if I have thoughts about it. Can you remember why you want to come here?

Dream (The silence lasts four minutes): I have walked an eternity’s worth of dreams. Yet, I mostly remain the observer and never seem to touch anyone’s… soul.

DT (The homework hit a nerve. He definitely engaged with the question): So you long for connection?

Dream: When the last dreamer forgets my name, I will cease to exist (The delusion is in full force, but I am starting to understand why). There is no true connection for me.

DT: What makes you think that people who care will forget about you?

Dream (I notice a sound not unlike that of a strangled cat): Because no one remembers me as soon as they wake.

DT: Well, I’m wide awake, and…

Dream: (I notice he mumbles something that sounds like, “Unfortunately.”)

DT: Pardon?

Dream: No matter.

DT: As I was saying: I am wide awake, and I remember you; otherwise this would be very hard to do.

Dream (He frowns so hard that I can almost feel it physically, but he remains silent. Today will be like pulling teeth I guess.)

DT: If you long for connection, did you ever try to initiate it?

Dream (He snorts, only to then look out the window. The silence only lasts around a minute this time): Yes. (I am waiting because I initially think he might expand. He does not).

DT: What about your siblings? You told me previously that the relationship with some of them is fractured. What about the others? Anyone you’re close to? Or at least get along with?

Dream: My elder sister… perhaps.

DT: Okay, that’s a start. Can you tell me a bit about her and your relationship?

Dream: She is everywhere, at all times, to collect souls and guide them to the afterlife (I am briefly contemplating whether she is really in the funeral business or if this is one of his strange allegories again, but I let the thought slide). I envy her certain sense of… detachment.

DT: And why is that?

Dream: She quite possibly carries the heaviest burden of all of us. And still, she remains… optimistic, kind, compassionate. She perplexes me.

DT: Would you say she is the sibling you're closest to?

Dream: (I notice a certain sense of hesitation): Perhaps she understands the nature of our existence most. But even she cannot fully grasp my realm. Or understand me, for that matter.

DT: Did you ever try to explain?

Dream (He looks at me as if I am someone very young and very stupid. I am neither. Well, at least I am fairly certain about my age): What I am cannot be explained or understood. By no one.

DT: Try me.

Dream (He leans forward in his chair, cocks his head to one side and looks at me intently): Will you answer a question first?

DT: That would depend on the question—I can’t promise anything.

Dream: You mortals hardly ever do.

DT: Just ask and see what happens.

Dream (I notice he is staring at my paperweight again. Hasn’t happened for a while): What do you know of eternity?

DT (I have no idea where this is going, but I decide to play): It is not a concept that means a lot to me. Nothing is eternal.

Dream: That might be true. And yet, what if there were such a thing, or at least something that gets very close?

DT: Then I would probably still endeavour to focus on the here and now, because that’s all I can do.

Dream: Do you never yearn for things beyond your reach?

DT: That’s inconsequential to our conversation.

Dream: Is it, though?

DT (I sense he is trying to corner me somehow, so I decide to redirect while pretending I don’t): Let’s assume for a minute it isn’t then. So what if I did yearn for things beyond my reach?

Dream: I would consider it… (He hesitates, briefly looks down at his hands and then looks at me again) relatable.

DT (I am glad he relates, but I also think I need to redirect even more): Of course you would. Isn’t that what every type of connection is about? Even professional ones?

Dream (I notice he straightens in his chair and lifts his chin. The silence lasts a full nine minutes before I decide to end it).

DT: Can you tell me what else you find relatable?

Dream: No.

DT: Why not?

Dream: Because that is the entire problem. I cannot relate to anyone, and no one can relate to me. However, I envy you… Your fleeting life (The way he says it almost sounds like an insult) and your fragile heart and your ability to love, lose and taste mortality with every passing moment until you take your last breath.

DT (I usually don’t flinch, but I think I might have on this occasion and need a second to gather myself. I am fully aware he is aware that I am slightly rattled because the way he looks at me is both sad but also disturbingly… triumphant, as if he were not so secretly chuffed that he dealt me a blow): And what makes you think you cannot do, or have, any of these things?

Dream: Because Destiny's Book weighs upon me. He is my brother by the way, I am not certain if I told you.

DT: Didn’t you previously tell me you never forget a thing? (Drat! I shouldn’t have said that.)

Dream (I notice he blinks slowly and actually smiles. For the first time today): Touché.

DT (I notice my sense of relief, and I’m not sure I like it): I think I might have asked you something like this before, at least in a roundabout way, but what if you could tear a page from that book? Just like that. Or at least rewrite it?

Dream (I notice he looks out the window again): That has the potential to unravel existence itself (He seems to think. After 8 minutes of silence, he finally looks at me again). Destiny is the oldest, forever chained to his book. Imagine having a sibling who knows every possible outcome, every twist of fate (So we are back to his siblings. Strange change of topic). It is rather infuriating. He once predicted I would spill coffee on a dream record, and I did.

DT (I’m not sure if I am inwardly laughing or crying at this point): So we are back to hot beverages and cup revolutions?

He just stares at me. I notice I involuntarily, or maybe voluntarily, quirk my eyebrow, to which he responds with cocking his head and resting both index fingers on his lips. He is ACTUALLY trying to hide a smile): Well, I am glad you are amused. Should we use that energy to keep on talking about your siblings?

Dream (He sighs and rolls his eyes at me, but he is still half-smiling, so he doesn’t seem to be to opposed): My relationship to each of my siblings is complicated.

DT: And why is that?

Dream: Because each one of us embodies a concept. We are bound by duty but simultaneously divided by it.

DT: Can you elaborate on that?

Dream (I notice a slightly uncomfortable shifting in his seat): Well, there is Desire… Desire is… manipulative. Always scheming, always meddling in my affairs. Our relationship is strained, to say the least. Despair is at least somewhat predictable. And then there's Delirium. She used to be Delight, but… (He suddenly stops himself and shakes his head.). It is unseemly to discuss my siblings, they are none of your concern.

DT: Correct. But you are.

(I notice his eyes turn wet, and he swallows a bit too hard. I catch myself thinking that I feel sorry for him. And I really shouldn’t.) Professionally.

Dream (I notice he stares at my paperweight again): I did not imply otherwise. (He briefly looks at me before turning his attention to the paperweight again.)

There is another brother. He abandoned his function and somewhat chose to… create. Badly. When he used to destroy whole galaxies… (His voice trails off)

DT: I guess he just came to the conclusion he prefers creating nebulae shaped like a middle finger over destroying galaxies? (Why on all fucking earth did I say that?)

Dream (I notice the eye roll): Very mature… (I also notice he loses the battle against trying to suppress a smile again) Yet possibly true.

DT (I am relieved, but I also feel I should apologise)

Dream: No need.

DT (I am confused): No need for what?

Dream: For an apology.

DT (He’s trying to read my mind now, great.)

Dream: I am sorry, I shall abstain.

DT: From what?

Dream: From intruding.

DT: Intruding on what? (I notice I sound a bit prickly.)

Dream (He stares me blank in the face): Your thoughts.

DT (This is fine. Totally fine. He isn’t really reading my thoughts, what are the chances to get it right randomly? Probably fairly high.)

Dream: Even higher if you understand common patterns.

DT (Okay, we’re playing again): And naturally, you do.

Dream: Perhaps.

DT: Then tell me about patterns between you and your siblings.

Dream (He doesn’t get angry or tetchy as expected, and instead just stares at his hands): The patterns are… endlessly complicated. I am not sure you would understand the dynamics of our relationships.

DT: Have you, or your siblings, ever tried to change these dynamics?

Dream (He does look slightly annoyed now): We are… constants! Change is a foreign concept to beings such as us.

DT: Is it truly? You’re changing, aren’t you? You’re even smiling. Here and there. That’s definitely a change.

Dream (I notice a face like thunder): I think not.

DT: Not what I’m seeing.

Dream (He leans forward in his chair): I. Do. Not. Change.

DT: Okay, what about your sister then?

Dream: Which one?

DT: The one who changed? The one you said, “used to be” Delight?

Dream (I notice he opens his mouth briefly to then close it again. He thinks for a hot second): I suppose, within our limited capacity, there have been…efforts to change. But…

DT: So it is possible then?

Dream (I notice the wet-cat-head-shaking): You don’t seem to comprehend that there is no balance in change. Not in any of my siblings. And I wish for balance. For a semblance of… harmony.

DT: Why do you believe there is no harmony in change?

Dream (I notice an exasperated sounding puff of air exiting his nose): I trust our time is up?

DT: No.

Dream: Very well, I shall leave then. (He gets up.)

DT: You’re right, some things truly don’t change.

Dream: I told you so. (He starts to walk out.)

DT: Are you still committed?

Dream (He stops and turns to look at me): Did you not tell me, just a second ago, that some things do not change? And did I not previously encourage you to use ink for however long you deem necessary? I do not have the tendency to go back on my word.

DT: And I don’t have the tendency to assume people aren’t free to change their mind.

Dream (He just stands there and glares at me): You have an obsession with change.

DT: Comes with the territory. Still ink, or would you rather default to pencil?

Dream (I notice the slightly exasperated bridge-of-nose-pinch): Ink. It is marginally more unchangeable…

< Previous Session

[danibee33]

The Queen’s Guard- Chapter 4: Enough

knight!simon riley x queen!reader

CW: dark themes - no graphic depictions* but non-con, sa, domestic violence, suicidal ideations *read at your own discretion*

word count: 3.5k

[<<< chapter 3]

“Hen..” Johnny turns to walk backwards, looking at you with a lopsided smile before you see his eyes cast up and to the right- lids narrowing for a split second, but the expression passes as he continues, “It’s swelterin’ out today, what’s with the fashion choice, eh?”

It had been a terribly, unseasonably, hot day- the sun was bright and oppressive as you walked through the hedges. You can feel the individual pearls of sweat beading off your skin under the high collar, your teeth clenching at the way they trickled down between your shoulder blades and collected in your cleavage-

And may all the gods damn this forsaken corset..

You don’t say that, though you sorely wish you could. No, instead, you fan yourself; fighting vainly to keep your breaths measured and at a normal pace.

But that’s incredibly hard to do when your lungs can only expand as far as the rigid boning that lines your torso would allow.

Your handmaid, Elia, had fallen ill late last night, and her temporary replacement seems to have a grudge against breathing, apparently..

“It is supposed to be autumn-”, you mutter back, gratefully taking his arm when he returns to your side, “not bloody summer.”

“My, my.. Do they teach ya how to speak like that at Queen school, Your Grace?”

He belts out that wonderful, smooth laugh at his own awful joke- nudging into you when you give more of a strained huff than the actual chuckle you’d been going for.

This would be his last day here. The week had gone by so quick, far too quick; the days had felt like the usual whirlwind and calamity that is your life, though you admit that as soon as the King left the castle walls, you were quick to reschedule nearly every event that you could manage. Not wanting to miss any more time with Johnny than you absolutely had to-

Then there’s Simon.. Wasn’t it also a week ago since the night in the hedges? Oh- right here, actually! How painfully convenient-

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at the thought, recognizing the specific spot you had been with him- fight the urge to wonder desperately if he feels the same turmoil over what occurred.

Nothing had changed between you, well, nothing outwardly, anyway. Internally? You were confused, and ashamed, so fearful, and yet, every time you let your mind recount how sinfully good it felt- to have him so close, to have his lips caress your skin, and that deep, brassy voice reverberate through your ears- you feel that awful, terrible ache for him grow even more.

“Earth to Sunny…”

You look up too fast, or maybe it wasn’t even that fast; but the moment your head tilts toward his voice, and the sun bears down on your face, you see a flurry of black stars dance across your vision, thickening until there’s nothing at all. No more light, no heat, no heaviness, no restriction around your lungs- just pure, blissful nothing.

”Mm.. My Queen..”

Warm lips press a long kiss behind your ear, his voice silky and muffled as he speaks- calloused hands roam your body, they leave the most delectable chills in their wake. Your skin impossibly hot and cold at the same time-

“I’m not your queen anymore, Simon. Remember?”

He moves to hover over you, his mouth never leaving your skin as it traces every curve, and slope, and freckle with the softest kisses you’re sure you’ve ever felt. The sensation of them is more like a feather being dragged over your flesh, slow, every delightful stroke made with purpose, intention.

And when he chuckles, you can't help but to suck in a sharp gasp at how his breath tickles the skin of your tummy, how it seems to fan out, warming something much, much deeper inside you-

“Love.. You’ll always be my queen. Or, do you not remember the first time I kneeled before you? The oath I took- my fealty sworn to you, and you alone, for as long as I live.”

The image of Simon kneeling at your feet makes you squirm under him; recalling vividly how large and menacing he was even in such a vulnerable position, how he had looked up at you under his brow- molten amber irises practically dancing in the light, so full of guile and adoration, even then.

A shrill noise parts your lips when he hoists your thighs over his shoulders, your heart racing, blood rushing to your cheeks and neck as you dare to look down at him-

And you know the minute you meet his eyes, see the intensity behind them, even with the rest of his face obscured as he nuzzles further against your cunt, that it would be your undoing.

How would anyone, or anything, ever compare?

Certainly not your King- no, not yours anymore. Wait.. is that right?

The thought disappears just as quickly as it had come, the pain of it replaced by the reverent worship of Simon’s tongue-

You’re slammed back into reality by a rush of cool water streaming over your face- it feels heavenly, since you now also feel that ungodly heat wrapping around you again, your senses slowly coming back into focus-

The earthy, sweet smell of the garden filling your nose, the feel of the water evaporating from your skin, the dry taste that coats your tongue, and urgent voices resounding in your ear.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus..”

“My Queen?”

You’re gently shaken, large hands holding your face- but it’s your name spoken in that voice you’ve dreamed about, so deep and laced with concern, with worry, that settles heavily in your heart, bringing you even further into the moment. And you so badly want to reach for it, for him-

But when you try to raise your hand, it feels like lifting iron chains, your energy thoroughly depleted; you move to sit up anyway, needing to fix this- whatever this was.

“W-what.. What is it?”

Gods, it even feels impossible to speak- but, finally, it seems your eyes have decided to work again, even if the view before you is blurred and hazy at first. You blink away the remaining starbursts, seeing two imposing silhouettes perched over you-

“Grianach..”

It’s when your gaze meets Johnny’s, your brain able to register the horror, the anguish- that you scramble to clutch at your throat.

Oh no.. no, no, no-

In their efforts to relieve you of your many insulating layers, it seems they cut the laces of your corset, and ripped the collar of your gown apart at the seams-

The high collar that you insisted on to cover the angry purplish bruises that currently wrap around your neck, the outline of a hand turning green and yellow with age. There were other bruises in much the same state on your arm and your thigh, and you thank the gods that those could not be so easily seen- because the murderous gleam in Simon and Johnny’s eyes is scary enough.

What would they do if they saw the rest…

You order them to help you up, dismissing their reservations as you simultaneously plead for them to call no one else-

“This is.. embarrassing enough. I do not wish for anyone else to see me, there are too many rumors and baseless speculation as it is-”

Simon is close again, right there supporting your weight, his body tense and ready for anything- but his eyes..

A shiver wracks through you as the image of those same eyes settling between your thighs flits through your mind; a motion they both mistake for the start of another fainting spell, judging by the way they grip you a little tighter- Johnny’s hand at your waist in an instant,

“Let me fetch the physician-”

“No.”

“Sunny..”

Looking between them, between cobalt blue and rich copper, between the man you’ve known your entire life, and the one that has somehow upended everything you thought you knew, your knees feel weak again.

“Please- Just.. Take me to my chambers.”

Simon moves immediately, leaving Johnny no choice but to follow as the towering man leads you through the hedge- but he doesn’t go towards the usual entrance you should be taking. You follow his long strides to a shadowed alcove, one you never would look twice at; but, to your surprise, when he pushes against an odd section of wall, it opens.

Johnny casts you a sidelong glance, and you wish you had an answer for him- hells, you wish you had an answer at all. It shouldn’t be surprising there are secret and hidden passageways within the castle, you suppose you’re just surprised you were never made aware of them. Especially since the corridor he chooses takes you directly to your rooms-

Your mouth opens the moment he closes the three of you in, a demand already on your tongue to know exactly how Simon knew about this, but all coherent thought turns to mush when he turns on you, pulling the black glove from his hand,

“Did he do this to you?”

The feel of his bare fingers on your skin sends your entire body reeling, unable, or maybe just unwilling, to pull away from his touch, even when you see Johnny’s eyebrows furrow in equal parts confusion and anger.

“Yes.”

“The King?” Johnny nearly choke on his own words, running a hand through his mess of hair as he watches Simon back away.

“It’s not-” You start, but you don’t have a justification, or an excuse, just the horrific memory of how angry your King had been, how he stormed into your room after the feast- his breath so laden with the smell of wine that it made your stomach queasy.

He took you that night before he left, by force. Pinned you down, and hissed the most obscene and vile things in your ear, his hands marking you for everyone to see; but you think it was mostly for his own depraved pleasure-

”Tell me about this Lord of yours- hm?” “Dancing with him like some common whore- you’re a fucking embarrassment to my crown-” “Well, since you want to act like one, I’ll show you exactly how I treat my harlots.”

As much as you tried to reassure him, he wouldn’t listen, didn’t want to hear what you had to say; and it was too easy for him to silence you with a strong grip around your neck-

You feel the hot tears threaten to spill at the memory, but you won’t, you refuse to let them fall- you refuse to shed one more single fucking tear for that monster, and certainly not right now.

So, you swallow the agonizing lump in your throat, pinning the men in front of you with a determined glare, “This shall not leave this room, am I clear?”

Johnny steps forward, “What?”

You raise your hand to stop him, holding your ground, “It isn’t a suggestion. It is a command-”, your feet move on autopilot, crossing the distance to the spacious washroom.

“But, Sunny.. You can’t let him get away with this! What else is there, huh? How else has he hurt-” Simon moves to cut him off, a strong arm reaching out to hold the Scot back, “Get your hands off me.”

They stand toe to toe, Simon’s eyes practically burning a hole through Johnny, the shorter man giving it back just as severely,

“Enough..” You sigh, moving quickly to push yourself between them, an open palm placed over their chests- Johnny’s, solid and warm, the muscle underneath heaving with every breath, and Simons.. The obsidian steel, cold and unforgiving, but it’s impossible to miss how his breathing is just as labored.

He’s just as livid-

“Please..”

At the same time, they relax under your touch, the sound of your plea softening both of their hearts for a moment- long enough to hear out, at least.

“Come back with me.” Johnny says, his voice so strong and steady that you swear you could feel the conviction behind the simple statement-

You shake your head, stepping from between them, “You know I can’t. That’s my home, our home, which you stand to inherit. The King would-“

Yes.. What would the great and benevolent ruler do? Would he make up a reason to attack your beloved homeland, to round up your family and have them executed? Would he make you watch Johnny’s head roll before casting your own off with it? He had already shown you a taste of how far his jealousy could go, how truly malicious and cruel he was willing to be when you angered him- and that only seemed to be happening more as of late.

“I will not go. I will not endanger your-” He tries to speak again, and you can see the flush of anger color his cheeks, his bright eyes so dark now, so full of turmoil, rage, “I WILL NOT.. endanger your life, or the lives of any of my people, Johnny..”

“Then I’ll take ya somehwere they won’t find us! Somewhere, where we’re nobodies, not a lord, or a queen- somewhere our names won’t matter. We’ll pick new ones, and it’ll be just us, just like it used to be, Grianach-”

A series of knocks at the doors throws the room into an eerie silence, agitation still hanging thick and heavy in the air around you as you look to Simon with a small nod; watching him cross the space and walk out of sight; your ears straining to hear who has come to seek you out, eyes staying glued to the wall, waiting to see him round it once again-

Johnny’s voice is sudden and low in your ear, so close it almost startles you as he speaks in your native tongue, or well, the bastardized slang you had always spoken to each other as children, ”Do you trust him?”

You turn to look up at him, eyebrows furrowed and your tone just as low, ”Yes, I do.”

There’s a moment when he seems to question your answer, question how little hesitation there was behind it- his eyes dancing over your face before darting up and back down to you just as quick,

”Bring him, then. Would that make you say ‘yes’?”

A familiar sequence of taps causes you to look back towards the entryway, where Simon stands as casual as ever, hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he looks between you and Johnny,

“Lord MacTavish’s horse has been prepared, along with his things, as previously requested-”

“Well, tell ‘em to take him back to stable, ‘m not leavin’.” Johnny spits back with a venom you’re not you’ve ever heard from the man.

But Simon, characteristically, is entirely unfazed by the outlash, looking back through his helmet, his expression almost comically bored.

“I answer to the Queen.” He hums out, eyes now on you in a way that feels far too personal, too intimate, as he moves forward with slow steps, “Not you.”

No.. No. I can’t do this- not here, not again. I don’t even know what this is, but it’s too much.

“All right, both of you- out.” You seethe, your hands clenching and unclenching as you all but shove Johnny back to the secret entrance- because the last thing you needed was for one the King’s many eyes in the castle to see him departing from your chambers.

He doesn’t try to stop you, but he does beg once again, softly, quietly- a plea for which you don’t have an answer to, not right now anyway. What he wants is impossible and improbable, it would never work. Right? Right.

There is no way out of this for you- there never really was.

“Later, Johnny. When we’ve calmed down and had time to think. I need to dress, now, go. I swear, I will find you.”

You watch him go, watch him spare one last glance before disappearing into the damp shadows of the tunnel, leaving you alone yet again with your Ghost. And that same, awful ache that never seems to leave you, makes itself apparent at the thought- your reeling mind certainly not helping to quell it by any means.

“You, too.” You say, squaring your shoulders and steeling yourself to face him, “I just need-”

When you do finally look up, your stride falters- seeing him already looking at you, his hand reaching for yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do- but, at the last second, he stops himself. His long fingers curling into a fist as they fall back in place at his side, and you don’t know why his restraint only serves to enthrall you more.

“I understand, My Queen..”

You want to scream and cry as you watch him slip his glove back on, covering the pale, scarred skin again-

“Si- Ser.. I’m sorry-”

“No.” He cuts you off gently, his voice warm and kind as he turns into you fully, “You have nothin’ to apologize for.. Not a single thing.”

Gods, why does he have to make it so difficult to be in his presence? Just standing here with him, his frame dwarfing your own, tall and broad, so immovable, so powerful; and yet, he somehow manages to make you feel like you’re the one looking down at him, like a deity gazing down on their devout disciple; like just allowing him the grace of your time and attention is what he lives for-

That is absurd.. And blasphemous. What is wrong with me.. It’s just a silly infatuation that I’ve aggrandized, that I’ve made more important than it is, obviously. I don’t know any better, anyway. This could be a ruse, and I wouldn’t know it, only ever having been with one boorish man; they could all be like that, Simon included-

“I’ll be at my post, Your Grace.” His voice is closer to normal now, not low and rich, spoken like it’s only meant for your ears-

All you can manage is a lame nod, turning away as he leaves because you know you couldn’t bear to see him go. Instead, you busy yourself finding another dress to cover your neck before calling in the handmaids for help.

Yes, busy, that usually tends to ward off the wayward and errant musings, the fantasies of what can never be- you’ll hone your focus on the mundane, on the way this new dress is softer than the last, the dark green velvet hugging you tenderly. Focus on the pinch of the corset, your eyes glancing at the wardrobe where you know the mutilated one now resides.

You simply won’t think about him. Or Johnny, and his preposterous proposal-

Oh, your sweet Johnny.. still ever the bleeding heart he is. You’ll send him back home with grand gifts, and hope he finds the letter you wrote for his eyes only, hope he can move on, and forget what he regrettably had to witness.

It will be ok. You’ll make sure he’s taken care of, that he won’t be cast into an unsavory light, or blamed.

Not when you’re so painfully aware that he’s the only wonderfully bright light you had been blessed with in so long, and gods forbid it’s your fault that his light is snuffed out-

The mirror catches your eye, reflecting someone so different back to you now. Different from a few short months ago, different from just a week ago, an hour ago, even. And while you don’t know if you particularly care for the woman you see, you know she is necessary for what’s to come.

It will be ok.

Simon stands guard at her door, unwavering and vigilant- but his mind races.

How could this have happened to his Queen, on his watch no less, how could he have allowed that monster to enter her chambers?

To hurt her.. defile her- his Queen. He swore his life to protect her, but he never imagined the one she needed saving from would be his own sovereign.

No matter. Because at the end of the day, the King is just a man; mortal, made of flesh and blood, a beating heart that can so easily be pierced by a sharp blade. A soft, squishy neck just made for cleaving-

And he doesn’t know this cousin of hers, doesn’t know what kind of lord he is, but she seems to trust him implicitly- they seem close in ways he can quite grasp. But, perhaps he’s on to something, Simon could get her away from here, away from this hellish place that drains her more and more, every waking moment.

He would take care of her, it would be so easy to make them both disappear.. they already called him ‘Ghost’, why not live up to the idea the mindless drones of court already have of him?

Hm.. Ghost-

The name rolls around on his tongue, Simon Riley has been called many things in his life, but none of them ever sounded so fitting.

[chapter 5>>>]

[gofishygo]

[PRIDE MONTH- WEEK FOUR] : through green hydrangeas (my heart lies) price x ftm reader (part 2/2) - UNFINISHED

(i will complete this once i am unsuicidal and motivated)

[PART ONE] | notes: medical settings, description of injury, should have a good ending but like rn its not necessarily very bonita for either of them

The next time you and Johnathan price meet each other is indeed, in Burningham.

The doctors treating you had come with a prognosis- a puncture to the intestine. Through the whole eight hours of the surgery, the whole two weeks of an induced coma, he’d shadowed it behind a glass window. His now practically immune to the scent of disinfectants, the lemon-stained chemicals burning at his nose until the chemoreceptors in them saw nothing, felt nothing. He compares it to a black hole, how his sensory limbs have dulled since his career; his ears are now half drowned, all noose shallow and diasporic, left behind at a botched mission in 2002 Moscow. The keenness of his nose now snuffed by a recent disaster with chemicals. His body is trying and failing, pulling the weight of the world on its shoulders and inside the gaping voids of his chest, always consuming, killing, but never truly settled. Never truly sated.

And now his eyes have resulted in you being eaten, now his ears have resulted in you being ripped at your core. His body has chewed you and, and was left to spit out your body, just like Johnny-

He is scared of looking into closed eyes-they remind price too much about him. So, he leaves the living pearls alone, refuses to peel the skin back to see your colours. He never wants to chew again, not after this.

In every other world be should have stayed attentive, should have yelled at you to not mount the doorframe. But now you are here, bandage wrapped vice-tight below your own scars under your chest and blanketing part of your tattoo, and guilt and pity and some dark festering emotion he couldn’t pinpoint layer and boil like bile in his kidneys. Threatens to spill over into his throat and all over the bed when he is finally allowed to take the compression off. It reveals the shooting star of a wound, crusted tail stretching and expanding into arms that seem to try reach across your skin, to take more of the body it had infested. And he fears you will meet the fate of Johnny- that the wound had claimed your soul instead of your life. And it was an early death too, for the man he had met, for the private who’d body he thought he’d fully memorised a decade ago. The short-lived life of the man who smiled with his whole face for the woman who couldn’t. He knows you have changed, have grown up and out of your past life.

But he can only hope that now; you are strong enough to live through it.

On the nineteenth day of your bedrest, John seems to notice that the slow trickle of bouquets and cards of condolence had been wrung dry, petals brown and crusting on the small bundle of roses that Gaz had left on the bedside since the beginning of your stay in the hospital. The colour of the wilt now matched his increasingly darkening eyebags, crow’s feet near buried, shallow dents in the corner of his peripherals. Pads of his fingers rest atop your forehead- and he knows no matter how dysregulated your internal temperature was since the mission, the number of degrees in your body would always be more than the amount of “get well soon’s” you were given. Some stone of pity seems to snowball at the tip of his tongue and lodge in his throat at the lack of a similar last name on any of the unopened cards left to collect dust on the table. Perhaps, since you’d dropped your original name, the people who’d carried your last refused to see you. And maybe, the idea that the number of degrees your body temperature was also outmatched the number of times you’d seen your relatives since your transition. And maybe, you had been alone for that stretch of years, without familiar flesh to grip onto or a face to share your ashtray and lighter with.

(When long-abandoned lawns are left unattended, they seem to flourish. Rainwater fills the cracks of pavement, toadstool and wildflowers sprouting between the roots of household weeds. In miracle, you had thrived in your isolation.) With one of your eyes slightly peeled open and fixed towards him, and voice barely gathering into the creak of a tree deforested, you ask what is wrong. Price swallows: and he replies with silence.

But even in your quarter-dead state, the captain can’t seem to stomp out the embers of your stubbornness. You’d always cared for him, affection growing teeth and latching onto him with a grip near impossible to pry. In warmth, it held him, in cold, it smothered him. “Put a lid on it, private,” its some form of rumbled warning, a predecessor to earthquakes that would split continents open. “Laswell called. All six targets got taken down, thanks to the work of you and the ULF. Another mission cleared, another day of living.” The dynamics of your exhale sound oddly like a rendition of price’s puff of a cigar. He can faintly recognise the lethargy, energy seeped out of your injuries, clearly exasperated by the way he slams shut at your prying. “You don’t need to worry about me,” But you’re attentive, even in your indigence, and notice how his eyes are not focused on the explosion of scab across your torso, but on the scars that adorned the underside of your chest. “Or is there something else on your mind?”

Price- he truly does hope that you register his stifled grunt and the widening of his eyes as shock instead of horror. Your words catch him off guard, a bear trap that ensnares his tongue instead of his legs, and he is left thrashing in desperation for new words. “no, it’s not- its not that you’re transgender. I don’t care for that. Why didn’t you contact me? What made you think that I would despise you, just because you changed? Just because you were happier?” did you think I could ever hate you for that? “no, its not your fault kid. m’ mistake.”

Silence from the only person who’d dared to raise their words to match all his own, isolation from the man whose touch anchored you down to the ground of the earth and the heat of his skin- it’s smothering him still, a phantom weight that chained the both of you to the bones in your knees and the cuffs of your necks. (If love Is liberation, maybe you two could have been set free-)

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hi! How about a good old hurt/comfort whump type prompt like a "this is gonna hurt" or the more fluffy "hey, don't look at that. Look at me". Maybe with Boba Fett or Mando.

Din Djarin x Reader | 1.9k words

Content: Hurt/Comfort, detailed descriptions of pain and injuries, a lil fluff toward the end

Pain, unlike any you'd ever felt before, radiating from the point of impact throughout the rest of your body. That was all you could think about as you lay on the ground, blinking up at the stars and holding on to whatever may be left of your life.

Neither of you had seen the ambush coming, which made your efforts to fight against it that much more chaotic. Din was a trained and skilled fighter, and even he had been struggling. You, whose abilities paled in comparison, had stood no chance. You ran as soon as he told you to, and then within the blink of an eye, you found yourself flat on your back wondering whether death may be the better option.

It was impossible to tell how long you lay there... writhing, sweating, praying. You couldn't even scream, let alone comprehend the passage of time. Even one second of this pain was far too long. When he finally came, you swore you'd aged years.

"Stay with me..."

"Hang in there..."

He repeated himself over and over. Or perhaps your delirious mind was replaying his words over and over. You weren't sure how you suddenly ended up inside of a cave. You preferred the view with the stars, to be honest.

"Din," you croaked out through cracked lips.

You knew was around somewhere; you could feel him in the air that gently moved around you. But it was hard to tell if he was tending to you in any particular way as your whole body radiated. Pain, pressure, heat... it swirled in and out with your vision, your consciousness.

"This is gonna hurt," you heard him say at some point and it almost made you laugh. Hurt. You were well past hurt now, Djarin.

And then the pain got worse. Thank the stars you hadn't actually laughed.

Where before it felt like your body was expanding with hot, heavy air, now it was like an electric bolt was slithering from your leg across every other appendage. You could taste it. There were sparks in your eyes. Whatever Din was trying to do to help, it only seemed to be making it worse.

You must have blacked out. You were opening your eyes again but couldn't remember ever closing them. You felt weaker. The pain was still there, but it felt... hidden? Like someone had thrown a blanket over it, trying to hide it from sight. It was as if your body had decided it could no longer feel something that intense again.

You risked using what energy you had to lift your head. You wanted to see the damage, what all the fuss was about. It was your right leg, gnarled and twisted in a bloody mess. There was blood all over the ground surrounding you, definitely more than should be outside of your body. No wonder you felt so tired.

"What the hell..." you breathed out in shock.

Din was by your leg, alternating between work on some kind of split and adding stitches to keep the blood at bay. As soon as you moved, he immediately shifted over to get you to lay back down.

"Hey, don't look at that. Look at me."

You did, and there was something off about what you were seeing. Din's large brown eyes met yours, full of a sort of strained determination, a warrior's hope that if he just pushed a little more, a little harder, the fight would soon be won. His hair was matted to his head in a sheen of sweat, and flecks of blood - likely yours - highlighted one side of his jaw. It would have been a little hot in any other circumstances. You'd always wondered if he ever looked more haggard than the cool and collected beskar helmet ever let on...

And that's when it hit you. He didn't have his helmet on.

"I just have a few stitches left," he was saying, voice completely unfiltered. "And then I can tighten the splint and that should keep your leg stable enough to travel. The bone will take a long time to reset, but if we can make it to the ship, I can get you somewhere safe where you can heal in peace. I just need you to stay strong a little while longer."

You didn't hear a single word he said. He had a hand clasped under your neck, his thumb brushing soothingly just by your ear. His eyes were so beautiful. They pleaded with you to stay awake, to keep looking.

You were dreaming.

You must be dreaming.

You were unconscious, pulled into an unknown state of being where your mind conjured up pleasant, wonderful images to keep the pain at bay, to keep you alive and sane. That's all this was. Din would never remove his helmet, not even for you.

"Stay strong," he said, squeezing the back of your head just enough to be reassuring. "I promise I'll get you out of here."

Those beautiful brown eyes disappeared and you were faintly aware of the pain starting up again in your leg, but you didn't care. So what if it was a dream. Gods, what a thing to dream of. You clung to the image and let yourself drift away with it peacefully....

* * *

It was strange, all the different ways one could feel pain. Sometimes sharp, sometimes dull. Sometimes hot, sometimes cold.

The pain you felt when you woke again was definitely on the colder, number side, at least so long as you continued to lie still. It sucked, but it was a relief from what you'd endured before. Any movement that affected your general hip and leg areas, though, brought those sharp, prickly stings. So you did your best to limit your movements.

The view you had now was of the Razor Crest ceiling. You didn't remember the journey here at all. How had Din even managed? You shifted your hands a little. They were set at your sides and glided along familiar patterns of fabric, your own blankets. He had moved your cot out into the main hull, probably to better tend to you as needed.

Next, you tried testing your voice. You assumed Din would be up in the cockpit, trying to find a medical facility to take you to for better care. But something within you yearned to have him closer, to know you were not alone in this, that everything would be okay.

You could get out a few croaks, garbled groans that didn't resemble any known language. But that was all it took anyway. Din had been right there, just outside your field of vision. He came into view at your call.

He had his helmet on.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay," he was quick to reassure. A gloved hand laid gently on your shoulder but it didn't squeeze, no fingers caressed.

So maybe you had dreaming after all.

You felt a little disappointed, but that quickly passed now that you simply had him here with you again.

He brought some water up to your lips and helped you drink from it. You winced a few times as you lifted your head and jostled your spine, and therefore your hips and leg. But it was worth getting some hydration and helping bring back your voice.

"What the hell even happened," you managed to string together some words after you finished and settled back down.

Din's helmet just shook slowly, like he couldn't even comprehend the events. "It was all my fault. I--"

"Don't you dare say you should've seen them coming," you warned, knowing how he got with things like this. "And I wasn't asking about the ambush. What the hell happened to my leg?"

"Speeder bike. Caught you right in your side, fractured your femur. Worst bone to break. You're stable now but you'll have a long recovery time."

"Lucky me," you sighed.

"You lost a lot of blood, too," he added.

"Well, at least I'm alive," you offered, mostly to be dramatic. But a cock of his helmet and you knew those words carried much more weight.

"Yeah," he agreed somberly. "It was bad. I was... worried, for a while."

You didn't know what to say to that. If anything, you wished you could be the one to come to his side and provide him with comfort and healing. This whole situation was messed up.

Din sat back down beside you and you did your best to shift your head and keep him in view. He had his hands resting on the edge of the cot and his helmet was trained on them in thought.

"Do you... remember anything?" he asked timidly after a few moments.

You immediately remembered his face. The line of stubble along his upper lip. How his hair curled slightly along his temple. Those big, beautiful brown eyes....

"Bits and pieces," you responded. 

"Anything in particular?"

Now you were wondering if maybe it hadn't been a dream after all. He was acting like he didn't want to get caught for something.

"You really want me to revisit my trauma so soon, Djarin?" you teased.

"No, no, of course not," he quickly backpedaled and you both fell into an awkward silence for a minute.

You finally decided to pry a little further "...Why?"

"No reason."

"Hm." He wasn't giving you much to go off of. This was getting silly. "Well, come to think of it, I do remember something... odd..."

"Oh?"

His hand gripped the blanket anxiously next to you. You looked at his helmet and desperately wished you could see beyond it, to see how he felt so you could know what he wanted.

Oh but who were you kidding? You knew him well, just as he did you. You knew exactly what those eyes would be pleading for you to say, because you knew what was important to him. So you put him out of his misery.

"But you know, it's all so fuzzy. I was probably just hallucinating."

You slid your hand across to rest against his and gave it a short squeeze. He visibly relaxed and that made you just as happy as it would have been to hear him admit what had really happened.

"Okay, good. Um, I mean, that's... that's normal. You were in and out of it a lot."

Din let out a nervous breath but then gently twisted his hand around to hold yours properly.

"Were you really worried about me?" you asked.

He nodded his head slowly. "Yeah... yeah, I was."

You gave a comforting little smile and squeezed his hand again. "Well, thank you, for being there for me. And being here now."

"Of course. This is the way."

Normally you would've rolled your eyes at that, but now it was reassuring. Encouraging, even. In some ways, it symbolized a bond between you that you'd wondered would ever come. You'd been traveling together long enough, fighting together and dining together and making decisions together. Now you were helping each other live. He'd gotten you out of a firefight, pieced you back together, hefted you unconscious across a forest. And now he was staying, right here, right beside you, for no other reason than because he could.

And maybe, just maybe, he had given a little part of himself to you, too. Maybe on accident, sure, but meaningful nonetheless. You would hold that piece of him close to your heart, and keep it safe there for as long as you continued to live.

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A Small Bite - Part 4

[Story Collection] | [Part 3] [●]

“Joey, please, slow down. There are too many babies,” Matt said behind me, but I couldn’t find any words to reply as my body wasn’t under my control. I knew the babies were coming out too fast, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I didn’t even know why more babies kept coming out of me. My mind was blank and babies just continued coming.

I loudly groaned as I felt how big the babies were as they went through my birth canal. It wasn’t only their size, but since they were coming out so fast, it hurt me more than I ever expected. The pain and pleasure were overwhelming. My hole was on fire, not having a break between babies, but my dick was fully hard below my still-big belly. I didn’t know what to do. There was actually nothing I could do.

I got my hands on my belly, and I felt it slowly deflating. That sensation was a tiny light of hope at the end of the long and painful tunnel I was going through while giving birth to a ridiculous number of babies. I could feel a head crowning, but it continued sliding out. In just a second, the head popped out of my body, soon followed by the shoulders making me feel more pain than ever before. Soon, the baby finally slid out of my body, only to be replaced by the next one in less than a second.

I panted heavily as my hole stretched over and over again to let all the babies out, like what must’ve looked like a baby cannon. I couldn’t control it; I could barely stay conscious, and I could barely hear Matt’s voice behind the multitude of babies crying. It was all surreal, but I couldn’t even decide if it felt like a dream or a nightmare. The pleasure and the fact that we were having more than one baby made it feel like a dream. But at the same time, the pain and the fact that we were having more than one baby made it feel like a nightmare.

I groaned more as my body won’t stop pushing kids out. I was almost out of breath, even though the pressure on my belly was slowly decreasing. I tried my best to focus my attention on the few parts of my body that didn’t feel like they were about to explode, but it was really hard because the pain of several babies coming out of me one after the other was simply too much. My pecs, my belly, and even my dick felt like they were about to explode, and I could barely stand all the sensations happening at once.

“Matt, I... can’t,” I managed to say, in addition to more babies coming out of me, I felt a massive rush of milk pouring out of my nipples all of a sudden, making it feel like I had two geysers in front of me. I moaned out loud while everything around me got coated with milk. Then, I felt enormous pressure around my crotch, making me groan in discomfort, soon followed by the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. My dick shot a river of cum, landing on my underbelly and the mattress beneath me.

“Joey… hey… Joey. What’s happening, Joey?” I heard Matt’s voice, but I couldn’t reply. My eyes started getting dark, and my mind collapsed under the intense sensation taking over my entire body. My eyes slowly closed, and everything around me just disappeared.

****

As I woke up, I immediately felt soreness all over my body. It felt like a truck had run over me, but somehow I felt relieved. The memory of my belly expanding and the intense orgasm taking over my body before I passed out flooded my mind, but it all felt so distant that a part of me wondered if it had been a dream. However, the fact that I felt so incredibly sore and tired made me realize that at least part of it had been definitely true.

I slowly opened my eyes and realized I was lying in bed, looking at the ceiling I knew very well. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I heard a weird sound that felt very close, but I couldn’t recognize it. It took me a few more seconds to finally figure out the source of the sound and realize that it was related to my pecs. I felt something around both my nipples and something else touching me around them.

I looked down and was surprised to see a wall of flesh before my face, soon realizing it was my chest. Each of my pecs looked enormous, like small beach balls, and the skin looked so tight that I wondered how it had stretched so much. I couldn’t see anything around me. Additionally, my pecs were pressing tightly against my chin, leaving my head almost locked in place.

“What in the…?” I shouted, trying to sit up, but the weight of my pecs and the soreness of my entire body made it impossible. “I… what’s… what’s happening?” I managed to say this as I tried to lift my upper body from the mattress, realizing something was definitely wrong.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Joey, just calm down.” I heard Matt’s voice, and it somehow calmed me down a bit. I felt him taking the babies away from my chest, but I still didn’t have the strength to move off the mattress. “Give me a second, and I’ll help you sit up. Just let me place these big boys on the mattress,” Matt added, and I sighed, looking at the ceiling.

“What happened, Matt? I had the weirdest dream ever. Now I feel like a truck hit me; I didn’t know labor could hurt so much,” I said, slowly moving my hands to feel my enormous pecs. Even though my arms were sore, I needed to find out if what my eyes had seen were really my pecs. “Why are my pecs so big?”

“Joey, you… Just relax and take a deep breath, okay? You were out for about half an hour after the last baby was born, so I get that you must be confused. Look, you…” Matt said, but was interrupted by some babies crying. At first, I didn’t mind the crying because I knew it was normal, but then the cries multiplied and grew louder, making me realize that there weren’t just two babies in the room with us.

“Matt, please tell me it was all a dream,” I said, trying to sit up, barely able to concentrate due to the multitude of loud cries surrounding me. “There’s no way that dream was real,” I added, as I felt Matt’s hand holding my hand and his other hand giving my back some support to pull me up. Immediately, I felt the enormous weight of my pecs straining my back. I only gasped in surprise, but everything around me was too shocking to think about my sore back for long.

“Joey, it was not a dream. I have no idea what happened, but all of a sudden, you started giving birth like a machine gun. You only groaned and moaned. Joey, I thought I was going to lose you, but you did so great, and you filled my world with happiness and fear,” Matt said as I finally sat up and looked around at a crowd of babies moving and crying everywhere in our room. “You gave birth to 40 babies. I-I’m still not sure if I’m dreaming, but... I saw you getting enormous, and then babies just came out of you one after the other, and you passed out, and I was so scared,” Matt said with teary eyes, and I didn’t know how to respond.

At least 20 babies were lying in bed next to me; there were at least 10 in the crib we had bought for the only baby we knew we were having, and the rest of the babies were in a bassinet, a stroller, and a hand carrier we had also bought for our big baby boy. We had all that baby equipment for one baby, so it was barely enough to fit the 40 babies Matt said had come out of my body.

I looked at the babies in bed next to me, and they looked exactly like the big boy I fed while giving birth to the second one. They were all like copies of each other, and since they looked a lot like Matt, they were like copies of him. Even though the sound of their crying was overwhelming, a smile spread on my face when I realized all those babies had been inside me. They were all ours.

“Shh, hey, big boys. Easy there… Daddy’s awake, and he’s going to take good care of you all,” I said out loud, and the crying slowly stopped. It seemed like my voice calmed all the babies down, so I continued talking to them all. “I know you must be scared. Believe me, I’m super scared, but I promise I’ll... We’ll take good care of you all.”

“I think some of them are still hungry. I fed the ones in the stroller, the hand carrier, and the bassinet, and was halfway through the ones lying next to you. That means there are ten babies left for you to feed,” Matt said as he picked up two babies from the mattress and slowly placed them in my arms.

“What do you mean? How did you feed them while I was out?” I asked while Matt helped me lean back against the bed’s headboard and get the babies in position for me to breastfeed them. It was pretty difficult because my pecs were so big that I couldn’t see anything past them, the babies included. I could feel their tiny mouths around my nipples and their tiny hands touching my skin, but I couldn’t see anything but my milky pecs.

“I held them against your pecs while you were sleeping. I knew they were hungry, and your pecs were there, so... it just made sense. Your nipples were leaking all along and there were 40 hungry babies. The entire room was a mess already, but I preferred that milk go to our babies’ tummies rather than getting on the mattress, which feels and looks more like a water bed... or milk bed more than a normal bed,” Matt said, chuckling and giving my pecs a soft pat.

“You… are you really listening to your words? 40 babies? It can’t be real,” I said, looking around again, trying to convince myself that those 40 babies were actually there. “And you said they all came out of me? Do you understand how crazy that sounds?”

“Oh, believe me, I know how crazy that sounds. I was right behind you, catching baby after baby, after baby after baby. With the first ten babies, it was clear you had to push and all the regular stuff, but after the eleventh, they just kept coming without giving me a break. Then you passed out around the 25th baby and they just... didn’t stop coming. More and more and more kept coming, and I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared, and... well, don’t hate me, but... it turned me on a bit,” Matt said, blushing.

“You gotta be kidding me? I passed out, and my body was literally collapsing under all the pressure and effort, and you just got horny?” I said harshly, making Matt blush even more. “You’re unbelievable, Matthew.”

“No, you’re unbelievable. You gave birth to more babies than anyone else, and here you are. You’re amazing,” Matt said, kissing me and giving my massive pecs some careful rubs.

“How sweet of you, Matthew, but I can’t stop thinking that this is somehow your fault,” I said as he kissed me again. “You were the one who wanted to have a huge family, and look, now we have too many kids.”

“Oh, there’s no such thing as too many kids. But I swear this is not my fault, at all. I didn’t do this,” he said as he started bringing all the babies to our bed to have them all in one place. “If anything, that man from the bakery shop is the one to blame. He gave me the cupcake and said it would help your fertility in your next pregnancy. Well, now it sounds like it’s my fault, but I never thought this could happen,” Matt said as he continued bringing more babies to our bed.

“The cupcake and... the cookie,” I whispered, finally remembering my conversation with the other man at the bakery shop. More memories of the moments before the birth started flooding my mind, and I looked at Matt’s crotch to find out if that had also been real. “Matt, your... dick,” I said when I saw the size of his soft dick, just as big as it had been when it was hard the last time I had seen it, along with grapefruit-sized balls.

“Oh, yeah… that… So, I was waiting for you to notice. I can’t blame the cupcake on that, but I thought that, maybe, it has something to do with the cookie.” Matt asked, and I blushed.

“Well, yeah. I wanted something for you to get hornier. I wanted you to fuck me hard, and... well, I never thought you’d get a 16-inch-long dick. Not that I’m complaining,” I said, winking at him as he placed the last baby in bed with me. With 40 newborns, our king-sized bed barely had enough space, but it was a really cute scene.

“So, you’re the one to blame for this huge dick, and I’m, somehow, the one to blame for you giving birth to 40 babies?” Matt said, kneeling next to the bed, right next to me.

“Oh, there’s no comparison. But I should’ve told you that it was only...” I said, and he completed my phrase: “A small bite.”

We laughed, and he helped me change the babies to feed the next pair. It was incredibly overwhelming, but the more I got to hold the babies, the more I fell in love with them, and the fear faded away, at least momentarily. I knew we had many challenges ahead of us because 40 babies were simply too much to handle, but looking at them made me feel at peace, and seeing Matt care so much for them made it all better.

Half an hour later, I finished feeding all the babies, and they were asleep. Matt helped me get up from bed to give the babies enough space to take a peaceful nap. Getting on my feet made me realize my pecs weren’t the only significant change my body had undergone. My belly was still pretty big, but completely soft. Even then, I still looked like I was nine months pregnant with at least twins. My ass and hips had grown a lot, forcing my thighs to thicken, so I still had to waddle instead of walking. Everything felt strange, but somehow I loved it, and Matt was clearly madly in love with my much thicker body.

We made sure that all the babies were safe in bed and that no one would fall off the edge, and we slowly went to our bathroom because I needed to clean my lower body. Matt was so gentle as he helped me get in the bathtub and started giving me the best sponge bath I had ever received. He was incredibly careful, which I appreciated because I was sore, and at the same time, he made me feel so good.

He paid close attention to cleaning between my legs, resulting in me moaning in pleasure, and my dick getting instantly hard. I still felt like I wasn’t in control of my body, but I couldn’t deny that I was enjoying his touch. Looking at him, I noticed his massive dick was slowly getting harder too, and I couldn’t resist the urge to get my hands on it and stroke it. His dick was at least 20 inches when it reached full hardness, and I couldn’t encircle it with my hands. I had just given birth to forty babies, but I couldn’t help but desire to have his massive dick inside me once again.

“I know that look. I know what you want when you look at me like that,” Matt said, carefully moving the sponge around the spot between my balls and my hole.

“If you know... then... what are you going to do, big guy?” I responded and reached lower to fondle his huge balls. “I don’t know if we’ll ever have the chance to be alone again with so many kids,” I added as he moaned thanks to my touch.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Matt said as I started turning to get on all fours in the tub. Simultaneously, he carefully got inside the tub with me. “But I can’t deny that the big ass cake you now have looks so delicious,” he added as we got right behind me and squeezed my huge cheeks with his strong hands.

“Well, this cake is yours, so... enjoy it one last time before we get too busy with our kids. A quickie won’t do any harm,” I said as he leaned forward and kissed my shoulders and neck, with his hard dick tightly pressed against my back. “Just a small bite of cake, and nothing will happen,” I added, and we both chuckled. I was ready to be a full-time daddy for our 40 babies, but I needed to feel my big man inside me one more time.

The End

[inurecity]

Gaz Relationship Headcannons

gn!reader

you just KNOW gaz can be the kinkiest mf ever if you give him the chance to be. worse than how some people depict könig. i wanted to expand on that a bit, mainly because this man is too underrated for his own good. that being said, here’s some relationship headcannons about him. a few SFW, others not.

SFW

-gaz needs at least a hand on you at all time. he doesn’t do it consciously, he just needs to know that you’re there with him.

-if you’re going anywhere with gaz, know he takes at least 20 minutes to get ready. no matter how much you complain, he needs to make himself look perfect. which, you remind him constantly, he does already, but he doesn’t seem to care.

-skin care routine is worse than soap’s, let’s be honest with ourselves. gaz hates it when he hasn’t put any product on his face during a mission—if you’re on it with him all you’ll here is constant whining. his routine consists of 2 hours a day when he can get the time for it.

-fashion expert and PROUD. this man will take you to 50 different thrift stores in his free time looking for steals and will explain in great detail their history. it’s insane how much he knows about clothes, and it mystifies you to this day. but, he doesn’t stop there—trust that he would take you on at least 1 shopping spree per week (if he isn’t deployed) and would pamper you with fancy thrifted clothing like nobodies business.

-that being said, gaz loves to go thrifting. the feeling of hidden treasures passed down by strangers makes him so happy.

-and, of course, the clothes he buys must be worn—in public or curated into a fashion show. which he loves doing, by the way—to watch you grumble as you shuffle out in a new piece orchestrated by him. absolutely priceless memories.

-but it doesn’t stop there. gaz, being the pretty faced manipulator he is, has 100% roped soap, ghost, price, alejandro, and even rudy into his shows. he has a photo album dedicated to blackmail of them.

-off of talking about clothing now—gaz probably has a giant collection of plushies. from sanrio to weirdly realistic dogs, this man has em all. bad day? he has your favorite plushie of his to cheer you up. cramps? you know he has a plushie with a built in heating pad. he’s deployed? you better expect him to literally make a body pillow of himself for you.

-knows how to crochet. made a plush of you and him holding hands, and to this day it sits on the corner of your work desk.

-in your alone time, gaz has the cheesiest smile ever plastered on his face for every second of it. he loves spending time with you so much, it’s worth his face muscles hurting.

-passenger. princess. refuses to drive when he doesn’t need to. he’s the kind of person to be sitting there with his eyes closed, massaging your thigh as you drive.

-gaz has had a ring tucked away in an old shoe box for months. he glances at it every time he walks by, but never had the strength to take it out. you find it, one day, while looking for your old yearbooks and nearly had a heart attack.

-when he finally proposed to you on a date, you shake your head and laugh. before he takes it the wrong way you explain what happened, and he nearly dies of embarrassment right then and there. but of course, you said yes. how couldn’t you?

NSFW

mainly gn!reader, did everything i could not to make it complete f!r lol

-this man treats you like royalty in bed. when he’s not vigorously shoving you into the headboard, he’s whispering praise into your ear and taking it slow. drinks up every moment of it.

-but, of course, he has his moments. when he comes home from deployment, best believe he’s pushing you against the door as soon as he closes it and sliding his hand up your shirt, removing it as soon as he can. between hungry kisses his lips find their way down your body, kissing and nipping at every inch he could.

-he can’t get enough of how you taste, and being away for so long makes it worse. so, naturally, as you whimper under his hold, he fucks you right there. pressed against the door, hasty kisses everywhere as his cock pushes in and out of you as fast as it can go.

-he’s *loud*, too. grunts and soft moans, sure, but he can’t keep his mouth shut. when he’s not praising you, he’s whining at the feeling of your walls clamping around his length. (alt: he’s whining at the feeling of your hole clamping around his length.)

-there’s been times where he got a bit too loud and the neighbors complained. it was mortifying.

-gaz can’t help but dirty talk the whole time. as much as he hates accidentally calling you a slut or whore in the moment, there’s still times where he does. and of course, when this happens, he slows down and cups your face in his hands as apology after apology bombards you.

-he might seem like a gentleman during sex most of the time, but let him go crazy and he will.

(AFAB!R) -gets pussy drunk after seconds, and gets latched onto you. his hands push open your thighs no matter how hard you try to close them, and he just fucking goes to town.

-he knows his size, too; he’ll take his time opening you with his fingers and tongue before he uses his cock.

(AMAB!R) -there’s been times where he wields it like a damn sword and fights yours with it. (he can be a child sometimes and i’m fucking here for it)

-uses praise as a way of leverage; he’ll fuck you nice and rough but will talk you through it till he finishes.

-probably has some weird kinks he won’t admit to. there’s been a few times where he’s gotten hard from watching you cook; it didn’t go so well for the food in the oven after you pointed it out. grubhub is the best option after you finish.

-the KING of aftercare. you just know he’ll pamper you out of existence.

-he’ll shower with you, rubbing your back and cleaning you up. (gaz would the most gentle man ever, fight me)

-and after? you’ll fall asleep on his chest and he’ll kiss your forehead, matching your breathing pattern until he falls asleep.

ACK IM SORRY FOR NOT GOING TOO INTO DETAIL FOR THE NSFW PART, i’ve never really written any smut before especially not in this format haha 🥲

[toxintouch]

I heard it was angst time. CW: MC Death. About the level of graphic (gore/violence) description that is in the source material imo. Be cautious and prioritize taking care of yourself if you are unsure, please. ♡

Mhin can’t find you.

When you don't appear at the scheduled time to discuss the headway you’ve each made individually regarding your mutual goal, they walk away from your agreed-upon rendezvous point with an annoyed huff.

When the next night passes and you still don’t show, they become even more incensed.

It’s not until they head to the Wet Wick and Leander asks them if they’ve seen you that they become concerned.

They look everywhere.

Leander places posters on the corner streets alongside his usual advertisements and soon your likeness is plastered across Lowtown.  Large letters reading: “REWARD” peer down at Mhin reproachfully at every turn as they fruitlessly go about their own search when they can spare the time during their day to day fight for survival.  

Something nags at the back of their mind.  

Guilt, they think.  Self-loathing.  They should have tried to find you that night.

As the days turn into weeks, they give up on Leander’s methods and start asking their own questions. 

They do it under the guise of collecting another bounty, but the genuine, thankful relief they get from Leander, the sorrowful look they receive from Kuras–they're know they're wearing a shallow facade at best.

It leaves a raw taste in their mouth to do so, but they even ask Vere, knowing the fleabag has keen senses which they do not.

Their stomach drops when Vere laughs.  A harsh, cruel thing that has them brandishing their dagger, keen to gut him like a fish where he stands.  He reads their rage easily, assuring them that he’s innocent, that he had nothing to do with your disappearance.

Which is what a Monster would say–but then–

Vere would be at his most honest while gloating, wouldn’t he?  If the truth is a twist of the knife.

He tells them to check their own closet for skeletons.  Tells them to check for Monsters underneath their own bed.

The adrenaline hits them immediately.  They start to sweat and shake and feel nauseous.  For their body, the realization is instantaneous.  In their mind, it comes more slowly.  Like walking through a dream.

They try to reach back in their memory. Try to tug at that nagging thing.

Unspool it until they can determine where the emptiness begins, ends, anything in between.

And then they find it.  They don’t remember it, but they find it.  

In one of their many hidden shelters. The one closest to your rendezvous point–a small lacuna in the side of a crumbling building, a nest built into the flesh.

Spooling trails of entrails and ruined bandages.  Viscera and bones and gore.  Scavengers have gotten to you and contaminated the scene but–

The wounds are unmistakable.  Familiar to them, by now.

The soft parts of you that have been picked at and eaten.

The sinking feeling in their gut expands.  This type of scene doesn’t make Mhin sick anymore but they wish it would.  Wish they could retch and rid themself of this emptiness.  Wish they could expel the vision of you–

The remains of you, laid out before them. 

There’s something almost graceful about your corpse.  As if you’ve been drawn out of a fairy tale, your gruesome demise told as a parable for children.

They try to remember transforming.  Killing you.  

Your last words, if you could make any around the blood gurgling from between your lips like a fountain.

Maybe in the future your fairy tale will have a moral to it.  A reason.  Your death will be more than senseless, another body added to the pile.  

For now Mhin will have to live without that closure.

The grief drips off of them like blood off of black feathers. It can't permeate their defenses, advantages granted to them by an evolution that was not of their own volition. They can already feel their mind warping around their memories of you, dulling them lest they tear themself apart, fall down while climbing up the tower to meet you and dash themselves upon the rocks, sink into the water below and drown beneath the torrent. A younger version of them would chase after the memories, cling to the waning thought of you.

The person they are now lets it happen.

They turn their back, leaving the empty echos behind.

Bad Ending : "Reward"