#this was an absolute labour of love let me tell you rip

[world0fmadness]

CRIMSON

pelle “ dead ” ohlin x reader

♡ nsfw headcanons for period sex with pelle!

୨୧ okay, i took it as a sign and yes, i am absolutely delusional! i hope you guys like this lolol <3

♡ related hc available here, here and here | view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: despair by trembling void - barbaric torture execution by baphomets horns

* 18 + content, please do not read if you’re a minor *

♡ the few times pelle tops during sex are usually always when he fucks you on your period!

୨୧ he knows you’re just a little sore and tired, nowhere near as able to ride him to hell and back like you usually do…

♡ but both of you love period sex so much, he loves it enough to actually top for once!

୨୧ pelle can hardly rip his eyes away from your cunt as he thrusts into you, it’s as if he’s been placed in some kind of trance as his slightly glossy blue orbs admire the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you with ease, always re-emerging completely covered in your sticky, deep crimson red blood

♡ he just cannot get enough of it, the smell and taste of your blood, the feeling of the blood dripping down his cock…

୨୧ honestly, you might have to cradle his face in your hands sometimes and tell him to relax a little due to how heavy his breathing is getting and how rapid his thrusts are, not to mention the damn near rabid look in his eyes!

♡ he’ll either just nod his head or mumble a response, bringing his eyes up and away from your cunt to meet yours as he does

“ sorry… feels so good, your blood, your cunt… you feel incredible around me… ” ( to be honest, you most likely won’t catch half of what he says due to his laboured breathing and how quietly he mumbles )

୨୧ after about at most, a minute of catching his breath at your gentle command, he’s right back to thrusting wildly into you, letting out short gasps in between as to try and keep his breath this time

♡ he just cannot bare to be outside of your for more than a second, he does not want to waste any of your blood or time

୨୧ i can see pelle moaning very differently during period sex, usually he’s vocal in the way of deep groans and moans and he does let out some of those too but…

♡ during period sex, when he’s on top, it’s more so just a lot of extremely heavy breathing, ragged gasps into the crook of your neck or chest and deep groans as he tightens his grip on the pillow under your head, his pale hands on both sides of you as to hold himself up

୨୧ what i mean to say is his senses just get so overloaded with pleasure and lust, it’s like his body kind of forgets what noises to make!

♡ so he just lets out a jumbled mess of deep groans, ragged breathing, gasps and moans

୨୧ because of how sensitive you are, you moan a lot during period sex! constantly raising your hips a little and pushing your cunt further into his face and deeper onto his fingers as he groans deeply, the vibrations of his groan against your cunt causing you to throw your head back in pure euphoria as his tongue flicks rapidly against your clit and three of his fingers work inside of you

♡ and pelle absolutely loves this, he loves how much pleasure you’re receiving, how you shove your bloody cunt further into his face and grip his blonde hair in your hands

୨୧ he’s obsessed with how reactive you are, how desperate you get for more… how tight your cunt clenches around his fingers or cock, as if not wanting to let him leave your warm, bloody haven… if it was up to him, he would never leave it…

♡ if you’re a heavy bleeder, like me, that’s even better for pelle!

୨୧ honestly just the more blood for pelle to lick up and watch coat his cock, the better! he does not find it gross at all, it’s incredibly hot to him

♡ when pelle eats you out on your period, he eats your cunt like he actually loves eating, and he does love eating your cunt, even more so when it’s flowing blood! just not so much other things, such as actual food…

୨୧ pelle especially likes to eat you out on your period before a concert!

♡ he’ll sit you atop a dressing table backstage or the sink in a bathroom and just go crazy, shoving his fingers and tongue into you at a rapid pace causing blood to splash out of your cunt and completely drench his corpse paint covered face and fingers in a deep crimson red colour

୨୧ and when you’ve reached your high, his fingers easily sliding out of you, completely red in colour and his face pulling away from your cunt, slowly dragging his eyes up to meet your glazed over ones? you wincing just a little when you see your blood completely covering his lower face and dripping down his neck…

♡ he doesn’t even try to wipe his face or fingers on a paper towel or wash them in the sink, he stares down at them with an unrecognisable look in his eyes, a deep, still unsatisfied hunger for more…

୨୧ but he has to be on stage and so off he goes, still not even trying to clean himself up, why would he?

♡ no one even bats an eye at the blood covering his fingers and lower face, they just figure it’s his own or some animal blood, maybe even fake blood for some unknown reason…

୨୧ period sex is one of those few times pelle doesn’t mind getting messy during sex, for once he doesn’t mind feeling sticky, only because it’s your blood

♡ he loves groping your tits and just running his hands all over your body when they’re messy with your blood, he thinks it only makes you look even more beautiful

୨୧ you will have to convince him to bathe afterwards though because if it was up to pelle? he would happily go to sleep or continue his day with both of your bodies painted with your blood…

♡ if you ever wake up one morning and realise you’ve bled through onto the sheets, you better not get embarrassed in front of this man!

୨୧ he’s so quick to shut you up with a firm kiss on the lips as his long fingers quickly find their way under the blankets and dip into your panties, immediately sliding into your cunt and meeting no resistance as you moan softly against his chapped lips as more deep red bleeds into the sheets

♡ well… the sheets are already bloody so… why not?

୨୧ this will usually always lead him to fingering you to your climax and bringing his bloody fingers up to his mouth, taking them into his mouth and sucking the blood from the flesh before pressing his lips against yours again, wanting you to taste yourself, taste how good the mix of your cum and blood tastes…

♡ he’ll usually slide under the blankets and take your bloody underwear off entirely before shoving his tongue into your cunt or climb over you, slipping his boxers and your panties off before sliding his hard cock inside of you with ease! what better way to wake up than some period sex?

୨୧ when it comes to aftercare, him eating you out and fucking you usually helps ease your cramps a lot but if you still have some cramps or any type of pain afterwards, he’ll pet your head a little before pulling his boxers up over his still bloody and sticky cock, walking downstairs to make you a hot drink and some painkillers to soothe the leftover cramping

♡ he might make himself a hot tea whilst he’s at it, just to ease his slight headache and help him sleep next to you but before sleeping, he’ll mumble something to you about how he loves you, how comfortable you make him feel and how he can’t wait for your next period because one week a month absolutely sucks for him and his need to taste your blood <3

[bloodlessbelmounte]

Predators and Prey

Summary:

When nightmares of your past tormentors keep you both awake, Astarion makes a very appealing offer. Revenge.

"You're not a smart man, are you? You should be begging for mercy. For a quick death. Did you hope to provoke us into gutting you?" He grabbed your father by the hair, tilting his head painfully, "Maybe you hoped I'd rip your throat out. Unfortunately for you, I have standards."

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Horror??? I guess???

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x GN!Tav (also not specified race)

Warnings: Swearing, blood, gore, graphic torture, talk of past child abuse, allusion to attempted incest. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THESE SUBJECTS HAVE THE POTENTIAL TO TRIGGER YOU. Also please let me know if I have missed anything, I am only human.

Word Count: 3315

There were some days where Astarion couldn't rest, where the memories of Cazador still tormented his dreams. Where peace wouldn't find him in meditation. On those days, he watched you slumber. Despite not having his affliction, you had altered your sleeping habits so you could spend the nights together since he could not stand the sun any longer. 

It seemed to be a restless night for you too as he watched you toss and turn. There was the odd whimper or sob here and there, sounds he knew too well. Those were the sounds of someone who had been on the receiving end of purposeful violence. His brows drew together in concern. He had his suspicions of course, you had your own scars but so old and faint no mortal eye could perceive them, like the one that stretched across your palm diagonally. It would've been discourteous of him to let your nightmares keep their grip on you.

He placed a hand on your shoulder and shook you softly, "Wake up, love. Whatever it is, it can't hurt you now."

You woke with a start, breathing laboured as you flinched away from the gentle hand. You visibly grimaced when you saw those damned puppy dog eyes of his. You knew you had some explaining to do. You sat up on your shared bed, staring down at your shaky hands resting in your lap. 

"I'm sorry, I must have disturbed your beauty sleep." You were trying to deflect.

But he wasn't having that, "Don't be ridiculous. I couldn't sleep anyway... I..." He paused considering his words carefully, "You know I won't pressure you into telling me what's troubling you. I can wait for you to tell me in your own time. After all, I have all the time in the world. Its just... I feel you've done so much to understand and help those around you but I... don't really know about your life before saving the world and all that. If this is something I can help you with darling, I'm all pointy ears for you."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that last bit. He always knew how to make you smile. You twiddled your thumbs as you considered telling him, you may as well at this point yeah? Get it out in the open and off your chest.

"For you, it was Cazador the man who gave you unlife. For me," you took a steadying breath, "it was my own father. He was a cruel man. Unhappy with the hand life dealt him, he took it out on his family. I... lost count of the injuries I received from him. Lost a few memories too. But those I do remember... they still hurt from time to time. He... he broke my ribs once. I remember feeling them bend, hearing them crack and the wind escaping me as pain stabbed through me. My mother just stood on the sidelines and did nothing." You shuddered fighting back tears, "For the longest time I was afraid of people touching me. I would react with violence. Hit, punch, kick, bite. You name it and I probably did it. And his attacks weren't just physical, no, he knew how to play mind games too. One day he'd call me a mistake, that I was never meant to be born. Then the next... he would tell me no one would ever love me but him. Would convince me that everyone hated me. That I was the lowest of the low. I had no one to turn to. Absolutely no one. But one day, my mum finally got her arse in gear and chased him out with the help of my grandfather. She had noticed his attention towards me had started turning incestuous. " You spat out the word. "You'd think that would've rid me of him but no, until I ventured away from the town I was born in, that bastard would stalk me. Keeping up the fucking mind games. That... disgusting man was- is the reason I was so ready to help you be rid of Cazador. And why I understood when you said you wanted to be seen outside the terms of sex. You could say I was living vicariously through you."

Astarion had been silent throughout your story. You finally looked up from your hands to gauge his reaction. And my what a reaction. His face was a vision of murderous intent you had only seen a few times before in your time together. You were half worried that he might chip his fangs with how tightly his jaw was clenched. It almost felt like his eyes were burning into you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, there just wasn't a good opportunity to with the end of the world-"

He held up a hand, "I don't want to hear apologies, not from you. Not unless you've stained my clothes or dropped another building on top of me. No." His voice became laced with a low growl, "What I want is a name and the town. What I want is to rip his guts out and choke him with them as you watch the life leave his eyes. Name it and I'll do it. It's the least I can do after you helped me." He paused, then laughed humorlessly as he seemed to realise something, "I'm glad we didn't meet sooner, love, really. If we had, you would've been my perfect victim thanks to that man."

He wasn't wrong there, all it would have taken was just the tracest amount of affection to have you wrapped around his finger. Unfortunately for you, that had happened just with someone else. But that could wait, you didn't want to bombard Astarion with your life's woes. You took a moment to consider his proposal. You had been patiently waiting for your father's death so you could dance on his grave. However, despite his lifestyle, death did not seem to be in a hurry to claim him and frankly you were tired of the paranoia his continued existence brought you. 

"I don't even want to say his name. I can take you to his house though, lure him outside... I want to empty his veins so that we no longer share the same blood."

Astarion squinted at you, "I hope that's not the reason you've been letting me drink from you this entire time." 

You hesitated, "To start with yes. I mean it was a good thing for both of us. You got your strength up and I got to feel less tainted. A win-win. And then I grew to truly care for you and your wellbeing so it became less about me and more about making sure you were happy."

Astarion looked skyward with a sigh of frustration, "You, my love, need to stop people pleasing. Don't force yourself to do something just because it'll make me happy."

"Tell that to the puppy dog eyes you give me whenever you ask. In all seriousness, I don't hate it. I'm not forcing myself. In fact I-" You cut yourself off as you began to flush.

Astarion raised a perfect brow and gave you that damned smirk of his, "Well maybe after we've dealt with your father, you'll let me indulge in you as a reward, Darling."

This man gave you emotional whiplash sometimes.

--‐---------------------------------------------------------------

It was a few nights' journey to get to your hometown, finding suitable places to sleep during the day when out in the wilderness hadn't helped either. But you made it. An odd feeling settled in your stomach when you stepped foot across the town boundaries, you hadn't been back in so long. It looked the same yet different in a way that was uncanny. Old haunts had disappeared to be replaced with unfamiliar store fronts. Though the necessities stayed the same like the messenger service. 

You passed through streets guided by hazy memories with Astarion close to your side for now, a comforting presence. As every step took you closer, your heart crept further into your throat. Never had you thought you'd see your father again. Let alone willingly. You had not long realised you'd finally forgotten how his voice sounded and now it was about to be rebranded into your memory. As your destination grew closer, you gave Astarion a nod signalling to him to get into position. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, hand hovering, ready to knock. This was really about to happen. This was the first step of being free of him. You quickly shook out your limbs as if to shake away any doubts or hesitation that wished to settle. With renewed determination, your fist rattled off an old pattern of knocks you remembered your father having done when you were a child. You stepped back as you heard movement inside the abode. And you took another step back as the man who haunted your sleep opened the door. He looked older now, much older. He had only just started greying when you were young, now most of his hair had turned that colour. His face now had deep set wrinkles, time had not been kind to him. And even from where you stood, you could smell the smoke of tobacco that clung to him heavily even when you were a child.

"Well well well, what brings you here? I thought I remember you telling me you would have no more contact with me. Let me guess, you've fallen on hard times? Failed at something as simple as earning a basic income? Not lived up to your own illusions of grandeur? Which is it?" He sneered.

You had not missed how he belittled you, thought you incapable of anything. You steadied yourself, mentally preparing the lie you concocted to draw him out. 

"No, nothing of the sort. In fact, I've done quite well for myself. I've settled down. Started a family." You purposely let the statement hang in the air.

He crossed his arms, "So you've come to declare that you'll be a better parent than I ever was."

If you had actually started a family, maybe you would have done this. Rubbed your happiness in his face. But alas, you had fallen for a member of the undead. Children weren't really on the cards for you.

"No, not at all... We're staying at a local tavern as I've come to visit all the family. I thought it would be cruel to deprave my child of their grandfather. Mum returned home not long ago so now it's your turn to meet my firstborn."

You watched his face morph from confusion to his typical smug grin, "I knew you'd see sense some day. I made you after all. Well go on, lead the way." 

It went against your instincts to turn your back to him, but you knew Astarion would act quicker than your father ever could. In fact, he must have only just stepped out of his door when you heard his surprised yell. You turned back towards him. Astarion had him pinned to the ground, one hand covering your father's mouth, the other holding a familiar dagger to his throat. 

"Not one sound. It'd be a shame to kill you before we have our fun. Nod if you understand." The ageing man nodded frantically. "Good. Well goodnight for now."

With that Astarion struck him with the pommel of his dagger.

--‐---------------------------------------------------------------

Astarion insisted you save your energy with the night's main event, so he did most of the heavy lifting. That didn't mean he didn't complain as he hoisted the unconscious man up by his ankles in the cave you had found. He wasn't complaining about you but to you.

"If there's one thing I can assure you of right now Darling, it's that his blood smells foul. Nothing like your lovely bouquet." He scrunched up his nose. "He's rotten inside in more ways than one. I'd say he'd have one foot in the grave the year after next."

That did bring you some sense of relief oddly. You concentrated on sorting through the equipment you bought with you. It was time to wake him up. Astarion grabbed a bucket of water and tossed its contents onto the upside down hanging man. He woke with a gasp and looked around. His eyes landed on you, where you were still calmly organising your tools.

"What the fuck is going on?! Let me do-"

"Do you know how many times I've pictured this moment? Mum used to ask what I would do to you if I ever had the opportunity and I had so many ideas over the years. So so many. Burning you alive. Drowning you by filling your lungs with water. Slitting your throat. All too quick when I truly thought about it. But here's the thing... my siblings and I workshopped ideas for the slowest death we could give you."

If his blood wasn't pooling in his skull your father surely would've turned paler than Astarion. 

Said vampire watched with an amused grin, approval in his eyes, "My my. I didn't know you had such a sadistic side, love."

"My favourite was my brother's idea to butcher you like the animal you are. So first, I think I'll have you tenderised to make it a little easier for me."

Astarion approached your father, adjusting his gloves before delivering a swift strike to his stomach. The sound of the impact, your father's pained cry and Astarion's satisfied smirk let you know that the vampire wasn't going to hold back.

"Should I break his ribs? I think he should know how you felt."

You took a moment to consider it, "Sure. Just don't go overboard, don't want him dying before I even get to start."

Another blow, this time a kick, was made to his chest. The cracking echoed throughout the cave and your father gasped for air, winded. You shuddered as the memories of your own injury resurfaced and a twinge shot though you. Astarion stepped back, letting the pain sink in. His hair had gotten a little unruly so he pushed it back. He was enjoying this. Maybe this was his time to live vicariously through you, after all, Cazador's demise had been quick in comparison. And then he was going back in, landing hit after hit on the defenceless man. You'd let him have his fun. 

You turned your attention to the fire you had set up, you were deep enough into the cave that the moonlight didn't reach you. You crouched down, chucking more wood on it before checking on the dagger you had lodged in it to heat up. It wouldn't do if your father bled to death before you could finish. This was the main task you had given Astarion, cauterising the wounds you would inflict. The blade was a brilliant orange, it was ready.

Astarion stopped, satisfied, "There you go love. All softened up for you."

Your father spat blood at Astarion's boots, "Of course that child would fall for a vampire," he laughed dryly followed immediately by a groan of pain, "they're nothing but a parasitic leech anyway. What else could possibly love them?"

You grabbed the boning knife from your selection, ready to begin. You'd had enough. However, Astarion had never taken kindly to those who name called you, like when Cazador called you cattle and it sent him into a frenzy. Astarion growled and crouched low so he was eye level with your father. 

"You're not a smart man are you? You should be begging for mercy. For a quick death. Did you hope to provoke us into gutting you?" He grabbed your father by the hair, tilting his head painfully, "Maybe you hoped I'd rip your throat out. Unfortunately for you, I have standards. However, you don't need both eyes to witness your last moments do you? We just need you to have at least one." 

Astarion jammed a thumb into one of your father's eyes. Your father wailed in agony and you knew his eyeball popping, its jelly dripping out of the socket mixed with blood, would be seared into your memory. Astarion stood back up, casually wiping his hand on your father as he did so. 

"I'm ready when you are, love. I'm tired of this pig's prattle."

You cut open your father's shirt, "My earliest memory is of your cruelty. I've been told that's it's a miracle that I didn't turn out like you as  you treated me like how your father treated you. And that's because I've lived to spite you. I have tried so hard to fix the damage you left in your wake. I've built a life away from you where I am loved and cared for. I am heralded as a hero yet you haunt me still." 

You walked behind him and cut the obstructing material away. You slowly sunk your knife into his shoulder blade, only stopping when you met bone. And with little sawing motions you began to separate flesh from bone. Blood welled up out the incision and painted his back. Part of you wanted to gag as you cut away, you had always been a little squeamish. With a quick flick, you pulled your knife free, along with a small chuck of skin and muscle. Astarion was there immediately with the heated blade, staunching the blood flow. The smell of burning meat assaulted your nose. Sweat beaded in your hair line as a wave of nausea hit you. This was going to be a long night but you swore to yourself you wouldn't stop. 

--‐---------------------------------------------------------------

As you continued there were times where you had to rush away to empty your stomach. In those moments, Astarion would stroke your back while whispering words of encouragement and comfort. He even offered to take over if you needed a break but you declined. You would see this through. 

You had managed to cut away as much as you could without hitting anywhere vital and your father now resembled the inverse of a pig prepped for butchering. His stomach and head was left intact (save his tongue) while everywhere else had been peeled away messily. Little muscle clung to his bone now. Your stash of Lesser Restoration scrolls came in quite useful as your father lost consciousness many times throughout the night. But his time was coming to an end. You had split so much of his blood and dawn was fast approaching. And so you sat in front of him, staring into his remaining eye. 

"I have always cursed that your blood runs through my veins. I have always cursed that I inherited any of your appearance. But today I will remedy both. We no longer look remotely alike. And now... I just need to make this blood my own."

Your father just regarded you lifeless, as you lent forward and finally slit his throat.

Astarion placed a gentle gloveless hand on your shoulder, "Let's go home, treasure, you need to rest."

You got to your feet but your knees were weak, you collapsed into his arms, "I'm so tired. So... empty. This is how you felt, isn't it? I... yeah let's go."

He ran his fingers through your hair and placed a soft kiss to your forehead, "The past is dead now, and from that, you can strive to fill your future with life. The emptiness shall pass." He draped one of your arms aroundnhis shoulders and helped you to stumble your way out of the cave's depths. The last of the moon's light felt like a blessing after the hours spent by firelight. "And love, trust me when I say his blood was never yours, if it was I would have never given you a little nibble." 

You huffed out a laugh and finally, a small smile graced your lips.

[jumpinginmuddypuddles]

heyyy whats up sunnyyyy

this is a pretty neat concept, maybe there’s one for artists too!

no idea if any of these have been asked before, but could i get 4, 25 and 35?

✨

hi hobs im doin alright on this chilly october morning

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

is it possible for me to say every single one to ever exist? in terms of fandom, there are definitely writers that are absolute weapons when it comes to gut-wrenching beautifully-made stuff that i worship (maybe i need to make a fic rec list or a collection or something idk) but in terms of actual published authors, i adore madelline miller's prose, it's just so beautifully written and makes me sob and scream and cry every time. i also love donna tartt's prose and also her characters and how deep and subtle some of the nuances in her novels are. i also love love love kazuo ishuguro and philip k dick for both their science-fiction works that manage to be so funny and so heartbreaking all at once, as well as their masterful dialogue. so yeah, i've got quite a few inspirations, but whether i actually manage to emmulate any of the gorgeous stuff they have written is TBD.

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

Literally ALL THE TIME. As its you hobs, my lovely mutual, I'll tell you about that hermitcraft fic and it's worldbuilding that i had planned. Before my muse was ripped from me and I fell out of touch with hermitcraft, I had visions of creating loads of off-shooting oneshots and works that explore all the different members and their backstories, and how they managed to end up in the main timeline in that au. it included a prequel of how mumbo and grian met and slowly gained each other's trust - it was agonisingly sad I will let you know now. I still have that stuff half-written because I am too attached to it but I am unlikely to ever go back to it and expand on that beautiful, tragic little world

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

It's a topic that's been spoken about so so much in recent years, but I just love how fanfiction, especially sites like ao3, are perfect symbols of how communism could and would work in our modern society. because authors do not get paid for their troubles, for their back ache and eye strain and hours hunched over a screen trying to figure out just the right words. we receive little-to-no praise most of the time, especially in smaller fandoms. so in theory, it shouldn't work. writers shouldn't post things onto platforms like ao3 and ff.net if, by capitalist standards, our labour is not being paid for. surely if it was simply a hobby, we could just write and keep it to ourselves? but because of the little communities people have built online, and the fandoms that have grown tight and strong, there is a really amazing band of people that group together to write fanfiction just because they love to do it, regardless of the time and effort taken, and want to show their creations to the world. this is especially true on ao3, which is non-proft, and is run by the people for the people. maybe that's why it receives so much goddamn funding every single time it needs it. (what a beautiful thought) sorry that last bit got super sappy, i just think it's super neat! Equally, I do think some people on ao3 need to relearn politeness and ettiquette. so many times i've had people either trauma-dumping without warrant in my comments or just rudely demanding the next chapter?? like? i am a person with work and school and a life, i cannot sit by a computer and pump out chapter after chapter for the rest of my life. it's insane and I think more people need to talk about it. I've been thinking about putting a blanket disclaimer in my notes about doing stuff like that because it sometimes has gotten so bad.

thanks so much for the questions! this turned into an entire essay lmao

check out the 36 questions for writers here

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

1. "The way you're handling her strikes me as wrong."

PLAISANCE - "Mind your own business, sir." Her posture becomes very rigid. "In *our society*, people don't get to tell each other how to raise their children. It's none of your or anyone's business."

2. "I'm here to dismantle the free market and abolish child labour."

PLAISANCE - She rolls her eyes. "You must be kidding, there's nothing like that happening."

"Depends. How much do you pay the kid?"

PLAISANCE - "Good sir, what does a young child do with money anyway? No, I save it for her, as a fund. She's securing her financial future out there."

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] - Slap the cuffs on her!

"I formally reprimand you for your corrupt activities."

"Oh. I guess I was mistaken."

PLAISANCE - She raises an eyebrow. "Oh, of course, officer. Good work. Are we done with the jokes now?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes, we've had quite enough fun here, right." The lieutenant taps his foot.

Plaisance strikes me as the kind of person who's going to need evidence before she changes her mind on anything.

3. "Okay... Let's change the subject."

PLAISANCE - The woman before you scans the store, her shoulders rigid and tense. Every now and then she nudges her glasses.

4. "Farewell for now, book peddler!" [Leave.]

RHETORIC - Hey, psst...

Look around.

Who -- me?

RHETORIC - Psst, hey, you!

Who -- me?

RHETORIC - Yes, you. Word on the street is you're ready to start building *communism* again!

'Again'?

How come there's *word on the street*?

RHETORIC - Yes -- you're ready to start building communism *again*. You've built it before, *they've* built it before. Hasn't really worked out yet, but neither has *love* -- should we just stop building love, too?

Can't argue with that.

Yes, we should all stop buildiing love.

Love has worked out really well for me. I'm a love winner.

RHETORIC - This conversation isn't really about love. Try to keep up, okay? This is about the communism you've *promised* to build. Word on the street is it's going to be ten thousand times larger than any communism previously attempted. Is that true?

How come there's *word on the street*?

RHETORIC - You keep saying things like *down with the bourgeoisie*, *eat the rich*, *sodomize the land-owners*, *impale all people who have more than 25 reál in their pocket*, *literally murder all human beings regardless of their political beliefs* -- that kind of stuff.

Oh, right. That sounds like me.

I haven't said anything like that.

I've said *some* mildly left wing things but none of those.

RHETORIC - Oh yes, the *mask of ambivalence*. Don't deny it. You're about to rip it off and reveal the monstrous seven-eyed lamb of global communism that will devour and masticate mankind.

Everyone can see that. So tell me, do you have any questions before we fire up the Big Communism Builder, or do we get *right down to it*?

Wait, first -- what's this *communism* even about?

Roll up your sleeves and start building Communism. (Opt in.)

It's too tiring. I don't have it in me. I'm beat down and broken. (Opt out.)

RHETORIC - Failure. It's about failure.

Failure?

I don't *do* failure.

RHETORIC - Yes! Abject failure. Total, irreversible defeat on all fronts! Absolutely vanquished, beaten, curb-stomped and pissed on -- until *you* came along! *You* will reverse the fortune of the workers of the world.

You alone, against every living thing, against every human alive: eight hundred trillion reál in the hands of an *impossibly* well organized ruling class; towering city blocks of bank-men who have the ears of prime ministers; million-headed armies of nations and the love of your own mother!

You -- against the atom, the charm and the spin. Where the whole world failed -- matter failed to bend to human will; human will failed to get out of bed and tie its laces -- you alone, single-handedly, will rebuild the dreams of the working class. You are The Last Communist.

Now get to work, comrade.

[mxrisacoulter]

#hdmsourcefanweek | Day 1: favourite character → Mrs Coulter

The woman herself was beautiful - Will saw that with shock - lovely in the moonlight, her brilliant dark eyes wide with enchantment, her slender shape light and graceful; but as she snapped her fingers, the monkey stopped at once and leaped up into her arms, and he saw that the sweet-faced woman and the evil monkey were one being

[animeomegas]

Hey Amy bear we haven’t talked in a while hopefully we can catch up soon!!

For the heat wave most likely too thing

Can you tell me out of these beautiful men, who’s most likely to throw a fit while in labor or while going into labor? How the contractions hit and how they handle it or if the may need a bouncy ball or! They might need to be deeply messaged or they call their own Oma hysterically crying?

Naruto, Kiba,Haku,Iruka,Itachi, Shino

I can’t wait to read these, especially since it’s a really mixed group!

Hello my lovely!! Yes, we are definitely due a catch up, I hope you're doing well! <3 @voodoogoul

So, who is most likely to have a breakdown while in labour? Hmm...

Warnings: Not super graphic, but still detailed pregnancy stuff.

THOSE WHO DO HAVE A BREAKDOWN:

Shino - Shino.... Poor Shino... He doesn't handle anything well. Not even slightly. Despite it being his pup's birth day, it's still one of the worst days of his life. He cannot handle strangers touching him and poking at him and in him, and he has to ditch some of his clothing and... it's too much. He has a massive breakdown and refuses to let anyone touch him. He has to be literally crowning before he can be convinced to open his legs, even though he has a private, small birth inside the clan. Originally, he doesn't want his oma in the room, but a few hours in he changes his mind and begs for you to get Shibi but also doesn't want you to leave him, so good luck with that. Shibi handles the whole thing very gracefully though and does a good job at calming his son down. Shino is absolutely a one and done though.

Iruka - Iruka... does not handle the pain very well 😅 He is 100% the kind of omega who breaks your hand from squeezing it too hard and curses you out for doing this to him. His labour is very long and towards the end, he gets so frustrated and very angry about it. Try and suggest something like a ball to bounce on and he will rip that idea to shreds and tell you you can have input when you push a pup out of you. He goes so quiet after the pup is out though, it's quite jarring.

Itachi - Itachi is very stressed when he goes into labour. He can handle the pain of the early contractions well, but he's not in a good mood and he snaps at everyone other than his alpha and his mother. Not even Sasuke gets slack cut for him if he decides to be a menace. He gives birth in a room in his home with a bunch of Uchiha medic nin and you and his mother. As the pain gets higher, his mood only gets worse. He starts growling at the mednin if they try to touch him while he's going through a contraction. He definitely would have had a full breakdown if he'd been conscious when they took his pup, but he almost died and was unconscious at the time.

THOSE THAT DO NOT:

Haku - Haku is weirdly calm the whole time, it's almost scary how he just smiles at you serenely like he isn't going through immense pain. He also decides he wants to give birth at home... a.k.a. in the middle of the woods with no medical help or pain relief. Still weirdly calm the whole time. I could see him setting up a puzzle to do with you in the down time between contractions, because Haku is just like that.

Naruto - I mean, Uzumaki are also built different, and this one happens to have a demon inside of him that heals his body in rapid time. He's just so excited every time he gets a contraction. He's smiling and giggling, like 'that's our pup trying to come out!'. He does whine about the pain towards the end and he doesn't enjoy that part, but he forgets about it in five seconds after the pup is back and thanks to the Kyuubi, he bounces straight back to his pre-pregnancy body only a few hours after the pup is out.

Kiba - Inuzuka just don't have as much trouble giving birth as the average person. Their hips are wider and their pups born smaller. As is clan tradition, he gives birth at home, just with you there, but with a clan medic (probably a vet lmao) on stand by to be called if anything goes wrong. Kiba isn't even in that much pain tbh, it's a bit uncomfortable, but Inuzuka bodies are just built different. Kiba isn't really himself though, he's very quiet and focused throughout the short labour, but he's okay, he's just giving all his attention to safely delivering his pup.

[waywardsummoner46]

Hellfire, Wedding From Hell Pt.2

Pairing: Dark!Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: Years after you got married, you gave birth to two wonderful children: Gwen and Sam. Both of whom you adored and in turn, adored you too. So much, they can't help but notice the unstable condition you're in and the fear that consumes you around Paul. So they decide to do something about it...

Word Count: 2446

Based off of these requests: 1, 2

A/N: I tried to merge these two requests and I think it turned out okay. I admit I got a bit sloppy at the end but other that that I hope I did okay and that you enjoy reading it. Let me know what you think and thank you for requesting!

___________________________________________________________________

Two years after you and Paul got married, you’d given birth to a beautiful pair of twins. Sam, your boy, was the oldest and his sister Gwen arrived around two hours later.

Being in labour with them and the pain that came with it was a blur, especially when Paul’d been with you every step of the way. Your husband had been so, so supportive and had always had your back. Just like he’d vowed, you beat the problem together.

Now, you were lying in your shared bed, your head resting on Paul’s shoulder and his arm wrapped comfortably around you. The sun was barely creeping over the horizon and your eyes were blaringly gazing at the sun rays protruding into your room.

Paul was still asleep and you were teetering on the edge of unconsciousness but your restless thoughts were overwhelming you already. The main thing on your mind was the power Paul still had over you, how much authority he had. It was terrifying. After he’d killed Nikolai, you thought you’d never be able to love him or respect him as you had years ago.

But you did. You were wholly devoted to him and it scared the crap out of you. Granted, he still had his moments where fear was the only emotion present but what chilled you to your very core was that most of the time, he was the Paul you remembered; tender, loving, caring and devoted all in one. Which is exactly why you felt so conflicted.

Then there was the matter of your children. If he ever exerted his power over them, you’d be furious but would ultimately be helpless either way. That thought proved to make you anxious and your breathing accelerated slightly. Your eyes were rapid underneath your eyelashes. Your palms began to get sweaty and-

“Empty your mind.”

Bliss. Utter bliss, your mind at peace and blank.

Paul sat up slightly and pulled your head up closer to his face. He traced your lips with his hands and tilted his head as he studied your face. He hummed thoughtfully, “Your anxiety is playing up again, darling.”

You managed a murmur of agreement to which he huffed at. “Alright, I get it; not the time. Now, sleep.” And you were out like a light.

Early on, you’d convinced Paul that you had anxiety and it was quite easy to forge a doctor’s prescription. So Paul was always “prepared” and “equipped” to deal with your warning signs. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, you did have anxiety - wonder why - but the core reason was your conflicted thoughts.

Paul was thoroughly convinced you were happy with your situation and every time he thinks about it, a small smug smirk paints its way onto his face exactly like the one right now. He gazed at the ceiling and reminisced about your youth together, then his thoughts drifted to his wonderful children and his smirk spread into a smile before he too went back to sleep.

___________________________________________________________________

Your husband took great pleasure in telling your children the story of your love. He loved seeing the passionate emotions filter across their faces as he explained how you were ripped from him and how he saved you from an evil monster.

He absolutely adored how they chimed in every time to utter their hatred for the foul creature that stole you away. And most of all, he loved how you seemed to accept this story. It appeared as though you believed his story, knowing full well that what he was saying wasn’t exactly true. A twisted version of it at the very least.

You never dared interrupt him or correct him… but eventually. Your kids began to pick up on your anxiety, they picked up on your slight tremor when Paul was angry and they most certainly picked up on how your fists clenched when he was presenting the monster in the story.

They were both sixteen by now and they still loved the perilous tale their father told them every week. It used to be everyday but now they had responsibilities and got into more trouble so punishments were inevitable. Even so, their attention was fully captivated by Paul’s story telling skills yet something always bothered you… and they were determined to find out what.

___________________________________________________________________

It was a Friday night. You, Paul and the twins were gathered at the table for a feast as it was the eighteenth anniversary of your marriage. Congratulations were spewed left right and centre today and you were feeling a bit overwhelmed.

Eating as a family always calmed your nerves though and with each deep breath, you felt your heartbeat slow to a normal speed. Paul squeezed your entwined hands which rested on the table which caused you to glance at him. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively and you managed a shaky smile.

He leaned over to your ear and whispered, “Deep breaths, in and out.” And you did.

He was such a confusing person; petrifying you one minute, calming you down the next. Overall however, you decided you were content with your marriage and that’s the end of your internal debate.

Sam and Gwen arrived then, both looking short of breath and red in the face. You raised a humorous eyebrow. “Who won then?” They looked at you in surprise before both shouting their names and arguing with each other.

Honestly, even halfway through their teenage years they never cease to amaze you with their immaturity and childishness. It was bemusing to say the least.

“Alright you two, sit. We’ve been waiting for a while now,” Paul said sternly. They both lowered their heads slightly in respect and took their usual seats opposite you both. The table you were all sitting at was the same table you and Paul had used to plan great schemes and draw pictures of one another when you were children.

Food came with the servants and you all thanked them for their service. Every one took a handful of everything and eventually pleasant conversations rolled around with pleasant foods to accommodate it.

It was all going absolutely splendid until Sam asked, “Can you tell the story of your marriage?”

Paul immediately cleared his throat and began to recite it when Sam interrupted him again. “Can you tell us about it this time?” he asked you. Your throat dried up a bit and you anxiously glanced at Paul’s curious and deceptively accepting eyes. He nodded his consent and you cleared your throat.

“Um well, your father and I have known each other practically since we were born. Our fathers signed a treaty ensuring that when we were of age, we’d be married in order to sustain the alliance between our Houses. Your father and I always did get along,” he squeezed your hand and gazed at you lovingly. “I’ve always loved him and he always loved me. We’d get fake married, we’d cause mischief together and steal our parents’ clothes simply because we could. We could do anything together.”

A dark look passed across your face when you paused. Paul didn’t seem to notice it, but a look was shared between Sam and Gwen that you probably should’ve paid more attention to.

You continued. “I think it was my twelfth birthday? Your father was arriving on my home planet the day of the party and I was dying to see him. I remember my mother being quite anxious about his arrival but it still baffles me as to why.

“By the time I saw your father, my mother had introduced me to Prince Nikolai of Chusuk. A very pleasant young man that captured my attention instantly.” Paul’s grip tightened on your hand in warning and a thunderous look appeared in his eyes. You ignored it, feeling a fire that should’ve diminished the same day Nikolai had. “Nikolai and I got along amazingly and we talked for the remainder of the day. Until I went looking for my mother but when I found her…”

You gulped and internally debated whether or not to proceed. Sam and Gwen were staring at you with concern but Paul was silently fuming. “Paul had slit her throat, blood spilled everywhere, she died instantly and Nikolai was the only comfort. I didn’t know what to d-”

“Stop talking. Now.” And just like that, your mouth clamped shut and silent tears raced down your cheeks. Paul was livid but your children were both shocked and fearful of their position now. “Leave this room and go back to our bedroom.”

You left, and sobbed on your way back to your room. Once you arrived, you immediately sank onto your bed and hugged the pillows. You regret it. All of it. Now your kids were in danger and you were in absolute peril.

All you could do now was wait for the inevitable.

___________________________________________________________________

You’d been woken up violently by the sound of angry pacing. Instantly, you shot up and flicked your eyes rapidly around the room before they settled on a very angry Paul.

Once he noticed you staring at him he began screaming at you. “How dare you! How could you do that to us? To our kids? Our family? God, why was I such a fool?” His short rant confused you, was he blaming himself for your wrong doings? If you’re being completely honest, you have no idea why you said all of those things. Sam and Gwen just seemed so compelling and when they gazed at you, something clicked and you were so determined to tell them the truth that you were consumed by it.

Your attention was piqued and you couldn’t help but stop his blabbering. “Paul, this is my fault. Not yours and I’m so sorry for saying what I said and doing w-what I did. I don’t know why exactly I did? I just got carried away a-and-” he cut you off by rushing over to you and pulling you into a warm embrace.

“No, no, noo darling! It wasn’t your fault, it’s okay, calm down. It’s mine and I am sorry… for neglecting you. For ignoring you and for not understanding you.”

You sat there completely flabbergasted by the turn of events. You were expecting shouting and yelling and blame but this? This was so much worse. How could he blame himself for any of this, and why was he confessing to this now?

Blinking rapidly, a yawn tore its way out of you and Paul chuckled slightly. “Go to sleep, my love. I’ll be here in the morning.”

So you did. Completely missing the self satisfied smirk that dominated Paul’s features. Completely missing how your kids were leaning outside of your door, listening into the entire thing and recognising how their father was manipulating you.

They glanced at each other and swallowed deeply. They knew what needed to be done.

___________________________________________________________________

It was the middle of the night. It was utterly silent and everyone was fast asleep.

Everyone apart from Sam and Gwen. They’d prepared for tonight. Had been for months ever since they first suspected something deeper and darker within your relationship. Fearing for your life and sanity, they sneaked into your bedroom.

Sam had a knife concealed within his sleeve and Gwen had a blade already in her hand. There was a hall section to your room as it was huge. They crept down it, taking their time on silent feet.

When they reached the corner of your room, they paused and looked at each other again. They both needed clarity and support from one another and their codependency supplied it. Simultaneously, they took a deep silent breath and readied their weapons.

“Come in here, you two.” Their bodies moved of their own accord and they found themselves pulled towards the centre of the room. A lamp was on and it illuminated the room in a slight glow. “Drop your weapons.”

Twin blades clattered to the floor and twin expressions of utter defeat settled over their faces. You laid on the bed, still asleep as Paul shook his head in disappointment.

“What I can’t wrap my head around is why exactly you thought that killing me would change anything? Clearly, you believed your mother’s story but she’s too attached to me. She loves me, adores me with her very being so if anything… my death would crush her.”

Sam’s eye began to twitch and Gwen’s lips curled into a scowl. They remained silent however as neither knew what to say. Paul gestured for them to say something but when it became obvious they wouldn’t continue, he scoffed.

“Alright. Well, seeing as I’m lacking respect and empathy from my own children, let’s see how you two like it when I fail to give it to you.” He stood then and drew his own weapon; the same one he murdered your mother and Nikolai with. He circled them and gazed adoringly down at the blade.

“You know, I killed your grandmother and Prince Nikolai with this very blade? Now, you’ll die by it too, you ungrateful waste of space.” He raised the blade and angled it just so it would slit Sam’s throat in a perfect line.

Gwen gazed in horror at it but Sam had a determined look in his eyes.

He steeled himself and just as the blade was about to make contact, another one was forcefully shoved through Paul’s abdomen. His mouth opened slightly and his eyebrows creased in pain. Shakily, he gazed down slowly at the blade protruding from his stomach.

A strangled cry forced its way from his throat before he and his weapon fell to the floor. You filled their gazes, your shaking and livid form glaring down at your husband. “Don’t ever, ever, threaten my children again, you monster.”

Gwen and Sam ran to you and engulfed you in a hug. You all cried and you checked them for any substantial injuries. When you came up empty, you sobbed openly into their arms and fell to the floor with them. They cradled you for a while before they decided to crash and burn on the floor with you.

Eventually guards arrived and found the mess. You explained how Paul had tried to kill you all and you killed him in self defence. They escorted you and your children to the infirmary and insisted on a more thorough examination.

You all fell asleep that night filled with nightmares and an aching void in your chests. But also a huge relief settled over you and a determination like none other replaced the fear you’d focused on for years,

You’d change the future, you and your kids. Together.

[backjustforberena]

perhaps some headcanons about rhaenys' pregnancies? i've always been kind of curious as to why they stopped at two kids when clearly... they're very into each other

Morning! Okay, so I'm not going to go into why I think they stopped at two kids mainly because I don't know. And I don't have enough medical knowledge about it to be able to speculate: it could have been a medical or personal choice. I will say that plenty of loving relationships didn't result in masses of kids in Westeros. Rhaenys herself was an only child. 

Plus, I think Corlys was away from Driftmark a lot more than we perhaps think, whether he was needed in King's Landing or abroad or in battle - he doesn't strike me as a guy to send someone to do something when he could just do it himself and he'd feel better about it if he did do it himself. It is what it is, I suppose. The text really doesn't give us much.

So... headcanons for Rhaenys actually being pregnant:

I think the Lord and Lady of Driftmark are extremely private in their pregnancies. Like, they wait until it's definitely safe before they tell people, and then Corlys absolutely let's rip on the celebrating. Huge feasts accompany both announcements, all held at High Tide, naturally.

Rhaenys gives birth at Driftmark both times. This is less a headcanon and more canon as Laena says she was born in her lord father's castle. I honestly, truly, think as soon as they were wed, Rhaenys pretty much adopted Driftmark and feels more at home there than she ever did at King's Landing or Dragonstone which are the two places she'd probably grown up.

There are separate quarters for the Lady of Driftmark (hardly used), and Rhaenys retires there and gives birth there as she doesn't want to associate her rooms with Corlys with the act of giving birth. It's basically the equivalent of confinement.

Both labours take days. Rhaenys hates the fuss. She'll have one or two attending her, whereas Corlys wants a flock of servants to tend to her every whim. She'll remove herself from daily life at Driftmark because her hormones make her super angry (she's a dragon, people) and she wants to save face etc. She'll spend the last few days with her hair simply in one long loose braid and wearing one of Corlys's large shirts.

Corlys is completely in love with his wife but also he's kind of a stickler for rules and propriety so whether he attends the births is a ball firmly placed in Rhaenys's court. I, personally, think Rhaenys is adamant he won't attend till it's all over, but halfway through her first labour, she just wants him in with her. If nothing else so she can direct him to punch the Maester (he doesn't).

I think the first birth was so long and stressful and a tiny bit traumatic that Rhaenys has a talk with Corlys about what she wishes, should she die during the next.

Rhaenys continues to ride Meleys until she can't anymore. She has dragon eggs in both cribs. She says her children will be of both the sea and the sky.

Corlys carves for the babies. I don't know what, but I like to think he's a pretty good craftsman, especially with wood (given his sailing) and so you can bet he makes gifts.

I'm also thinking there must be some kind of unique Velaryon Christening. If they have specific rites for funerals, and commit their dead to the sea, there must be something for births. Either way, it's likely the first public outing of each child, for the whole island to see. It's important to both parents equally.

Corlys is the most worried about being a father, and does express this to Rhaenys privately. He lost his father so young, he has no compass. Rhaenys, throughout, is the most pragmatic of the couple and believes they will make good parents. However, that confidence changes after the death of her father and the change of succession, as she feels she has failed her future children already.

[angstyclowns]

I am weak for yanderes, and ABO♥️♥️💛💜!!! What's your take on yandere alpha shinsou/aizawa/hawks finding out his pregnant omega left without him, but finds them in a hospital bed with the baby wrapped up in their arms? Me seeing you write: oops lemme just🤰🤰

Yandere! alpha! Hitoshi shinso, Shouta Aizawa, and Keigo Takami x Pregnant! Omega! Reader

Hitoshi Shinso

His inner alpha was snarling at him as he ripped your den to shreds, looking every possible where for you. 

He was livid. 

He had told you- no, demanded you tell him if you went anywhere without him. 

Ever since you fell to Stockholm syndrome, he’s trusted you outside as long as you tell him. 

He should’ve known he was stupid trusting you so easily.

God, he was an idiot. 

You were literal days away from your due date with his pup, which meant you couldn’t have gone far. You would still be in Musutafu.

Throwing on his capture weapon, Hitoshi stomped his way to the front door, only to pause as the house phone rang. 

An unknown number showed up, making Hitoshi furrow a brow.  

Maybe he was a bit too brash. Maybe you had gotten lost and your phone had died. 

You were such an obedient thing, he had trained you well. 

And oh, yeah. 

You were pregnant with his pup. 

Picking up the phone, Hitoshi was back to rushing once more this time, not boiling with rage. 

No instead, he was brimming with joy. 

Absolutely smitten as he ran to the nearest hospital. He had been there a dozen times with you for ultrasounds and such. 

Now he was going there to meet his new pride and joy. 

He didn’t even need directions, as they had a private room booked in advance for you in case you went into labour early, as you did. 

Hitoshi took a minutes to calm himself before walking into your hospital room, nearly choking on his spit. 

You were sitting there, tired, but glowing with a small pink bundle in your arms, beaming up once you noticed Hitoshi.

“Alpha! I’m so sorry! I meant to call you but the contractions just increased so suddenly and then-”

He held up a hand, choosing instead just to walk over and sit with you.

You could explain later, for now, he was just happy to have you ant his pup and his arms once more. 

Shouta Aizawa

Aizawa had spies all over the place. he was a teacher for gods sake.

He trusted class 1-A with knowing you were his omega, and when he told them you were pregnant, the understood his protective stand point even more. 

If you told Aizawa you were going out, he had at least two of his students follow you everywhere. 

They stayed far enough back that they weren’t seen, easily staying on your track nonetheless. 

So when you told Aizawa you were going to head out for a small cravings run, he had two of his best stealth students follow you. 

To say he was startled when they came running back, panting and hair wild would be an understatement. 

They quickly explained that you suddenly collapsed, an ambulance being  called before escorting you to the hospitals. 

He called in mic to sub before he himself was rushing off

Was something wrong with you and the pup?

Were you going to be okay?

Aizawa cared and loved for your unborn pup of course, but mom came first. 

You would always come first. 

Walking to your room, Aizawa let out a questioning chirp, relaxing ever so slightly when you answered. 

Walking in, he purred at the sight of you in the hospital bed, perfectly healthy-

well, almost. 

Your once prominent bump was now flat, making aizawa frown.

Where was your pup?

You seemed to sense his confusion, shaking your head with a smile before shuffling a little. an incubator was beside your bed, a blue bundle squirming inside of it in a restless slumber. 

Like father like son you supposed.  

You explained that you collapsed from pain, but you thought they were phantom hicks. 

Nope. Before you knew it, you were delivering your son. 

Aizawa made a mental note to make a list of people to watch over your son. 

No problem child was not on it since he was a magnet for trouble. 

He was totally on it because he was strong and would protect you and your son till his dying breath. 

Keigo Takami

Keigo was a top ten hero, you bet your sweet ass he followed you whenever possible. 

He constantly had a feather with you always. whether you knew it or not. 

He could tell when you were too hot, too cold, in trouble, didn’t matter. 

He knew

He rerouted his patrol to cover places you frequented a lot. 

He was always near you.

It didn’t matter. 

He was your alpha and he took that position with pride. 

that and the position of the father to your pup.

He took that position with pride. 

When he got a text from Miruko that you were seen detouring from the area Hawks allowed you to travel

That immediately had his hassles raised as he took off, abandoning his hero duties in favor of finding you. 

He followed his instincts, and the connection with his feather, landing in front of a hospital. 

Immediately, his mind went nuts, thinking of everything that went wrong. 

Whatever it was, you had the sense to get yourself to a hospital, so you were safe in that sense. 

When he walked in, a nurse was already waiting for him escorting him to your room. 

He caught you just as they were wheeling you back into your room, a yellow bundle in your arms, which you were cooing at constantly. 

When you noticed him, you smiled before using one hand to move the blankets away slightly, Keigo watching as bright red, small little wings fluttered free. 

Keigo could only preen in joy, purring into your ear just how proud of his dove he was.

[americxn]

Hi, I am absolutely living for your fics (run especially!!) I had an idea for a possible Kai fic if you have time. What if Kai keeps the reader separate from the cult and acts almost like pre-cult Kai with her. But one day (maybe after he thinks Winter is the mole) he loses his mind and goes to the reader for comfort?! Idk maybe it could be angsty or sweet or smutty just a rough idea ☺️

Unpredictable (Kai x Reader)

a/n: I’M BACK. sorry this took me such a long time to post, I couldn’t quite figure out how to write it but here it is! (i lowkey hate this i’m so sorry)

wordcount: 2k

Pulling up the handbrake of your car, you pushed open the door, ensuring to grab your phone and keys before stepping out into the cool night air. The illuminated windows of Kai’s kitchen lit up the driveway, showing you the path to the front door.  You breathed in the night air, excited to see your boy after a long day of work. Not bothering to knock, you pulled open the front door, pausing to take off your shoes before entering the main part of the house, humming softly to yourself. You paused when Kai voice rose to meet you, coming from the kitchen to your left. He was muttering angrily, his voice almost imperceptibly raised in pitch, a sure sign that he was stressed. “Kai?” You called, hurrying into the kitchen to see him bent over the kitchen counter, his hands covering his face whilst his phone rested on the surface before him. Beverly stood silently on the other side of the room, a chopping board covered in sliced vegetables occupying her. “Kai?” You repeated. This time he heard you as you stepped into the kitchen with a concerned frown. He snatched up his phone, his eyes widening slightly as he beheld you before putting his phone off speaker and raising it to his ear. “No, I don’t care. She should be here.” He gritted down the phone, walking over to you and bracing an arm around your waist. His body was tense against yours.

You peered up at him as he spat down the phone, his face glowing an angry red, his eyes wild. “Kai?” You whispered a third time, trying to get him to look at you. He glanced to you, pinching the bridge of his nose before pulling the phone away from his ear. “Hi, lamb. Give me a minute, okay? Go upstairs, I’ll join you in a few.”  Although his voice was calm, you could tell that it was forced, his lip curling in rage as he addressed you before giving you a light shrug towards the kitchen door. You turned slowly, glancing at Beverly who shook her head in warning, encouraging you silently to heed his direction. Turning away fully, your ensured that your hand brushed against Kai’s in a soft gesture of affection before vacating the room. You made it only halfway up the stairs before Kai’s roar of fury ripped through the house, swiftly followed by the distinct sound of something shattering. You were back down the stairs and into the kitchen within a matter a seconds, beholding Kai with wide eyes. He stood in the centre of the room, shouting furiously down the phone, spittle flying from his mouth and a thick, angry vein prominently running up the centre of his forehead. At his feet, the crystalline vase that had once housed a bunch of summery flowers on the centre of the kitchen island lay in shatters around his feet, the flowers limp and broken on the floor. His phone quickly joined the mess of shards on the floor, Kai not even bothering to hang up on the caller before chucking it to the hard floor, the screen instantly splintering into a spider web of deep cracks. “Kai.” You barked, Beverly quickly skirting around the mess on the floor and exiting the room. You couldn’t blame her, Kai never acted like this and you weren’t too sure how to deal with it either.  His head snapped up to you, his nostrils flared and eyes wide in savage anger, his laboured breathing audible even from across the room. “What the fuck is going on?” You questioned, carefully picking your way through the mess of shards of broken glass and taking his face in your hands. “Look at me.” You ordered calmly, watched as his pupils dilated slightly at the sight of your concerned face as it appeared before his. You allowed your thumbs to trace soft, loving patterns on his cheeks as you held him, his fingers clasping tightly onto your wrists as his eyes drifted shut under your touch.  You waited patiently for his breathing to even out slightly, his grip slowly loosening on your wrists notifying you that he was calmed by your presence. “Are you okay?” You whispered eventually, peering up at him under a concerned frown. He nodded tightly, his jaw clenching and working beneath your touch. “Come with me.” You encouraged gently, his eyes opening as you pulled your hands away from his face, taking his hands in yours instead. “Careful.” You murmured, helping him navigate through the scattered shards of brutally sharp glass, a product of his fury. He was completely silent as you led him away from the kitchen and up the stairs, your hands clutched tightly in his hold. Pushing the door open with a foot, you led him into his bedroom, perching him on the edge of the bed and shutting the door softly behind you. He kept his dark gaze trained on the floor as you turned to him, approaching him with slow caution, trying to gauge how he was feeling. “Do you wanna talk about it?” To your upmost dismay and complete shock, Kai’s face crumpled at your words, a rosy hue settling over his cheeks. In the three years that you and Kai had been together, you had never seen him cry.  You cursed under your breath, hurrying to where he sat and pulling his body to yours. His arms immediately snaked around your waist, his head burying into your stomach. His shoulders shook slightly at the force of his sobs, small, broken cries emanating from his hidden face. His heaving cries were interrupted by tiny hiccups and squeaks, his hot tears soaking into the thick material of your soft sweater. You rubbed slow circles in between his shoulder blades, unsure of how to comfort him aside from offering sweet reassurances. His arms clutched around you tighter, pulling your body even closer to him. Eventually, when his cries had quietened, his sobs less frequent, you knelt down before him, his head emerging from the fabric of your sweater as you did so. Your heart cracked in two at the sight of his swollen eyes, his cheeks blotchy and red, his eyes teary.  You ran the backs of your hands across his cheeks tenderly, collecting any stray tears from his hot skin before leaning in to press an adoring kiss to his swollen, salty lips. “Baby?” You asked, his eyes slowly rising to meet yours. He sniffled, but replied with a thick, “yeah?” “What’s the matter? I’ve seen you like this before.” With another sniffle, he looked down at the floor, his shoulder curving inwards with vulnerability. “It’s nothing.” You scoffed lightly, searching his eyes. “It’s most certainly not nothing, mister. You shattered Winter’s favourite vase, she won’t be very happy.” You were joking of course, just trying the lighten the mood. But his face hardened at the mention of her name, his eyes narrowing to puffy slits. “That bitch.” He spat, taking you by complete surprise once more as he stood up abruptly, stepping around you and heading for the door. “No, Kai. Wait.” You begged, catching his hand just as he reached the door. He spun on you, but you didn’t shrink away. “Tell me what’s happening. What’s going on with Winter?” His lip curled but you held your ground, staring right at him. “She betrayed me. And the rest of us. “Rest of who?” You didn’t even know why you bothered asking, you knew exactly what he was referring to. “The fucking cult.” He gritted out. Your heart sank at the mention of the cult; you didn’t associate with it. You pretended that it didn’t exist and Kai let you. It was just apart of your dynamic. “She’s been spying on me or some shit. A mole. She’s the one who has been planting those fucking bugs all over the house.” His eyes glinted with returning wildness. You released his hand, running your palms over your face. “Have you spoken to her?” Kai seemed to still at this, his eyes glazing over with cold fury. “No.” He spat, once again turning for the door. You grabbed ahold of his forearm, stopping him once more. “Don’t you think that it would be a good idea to actually talk to her about it before jumping to a conclusion? Who did you even hear that from?” Kai’s cheeks reddened once more with agitation at the truth of your words. His gaze once again dropped to the floor, Kai finding your feet suddenly very interesting. “Speed Wagon.” He mumbled. “Speed - Speed Wagon?” You repeated, incredulity evident in your tone. “Yes.” His answer was short, blunt. You sighed through your nose, watching as Kai’s eyes once again filled with tears. “No, look it’s okay.” You hurried, moving your grip from his arm to his hand, pulling him back over to the bed as his lower lip wobbled. “I’m sorry, I... I wouldn’t get it.” You excused, feeling guilty for being so submissive at his explanation. Even if you knew very little about it, you knew how much his cult meant to him. “No, it’s fine.” He mumbled, his face red as he swiped away the few tears that rolled down his puffy cheeks. “It’s not, you’re stressed out and I -” The rest of your words were snatched from you when Kai’s hand clasped suddenly onto your throat, pushing you back and pinning you the bed. You let out a surprised squeak, your eyes wide as Kai’s face appeared above yours, his hair hanging limply around his face. “I said, it’s fine.” He hissed, his eyes flashing as his hand pressed your throat even further into the mattress, constricting your air flow and leaving you gasping to suck down as much air as would fit around his hold. “Kai.” You rasped, frozen in place under his harsh stare, his palm warm and rough in its position on your neck. “Why can’t you understand?” He growled, pulling your upper body off the bed slightly before slamming you back down in emphasis, the springs hidden in the mattress creaking with the impact. You stared up at him, your eyes widened in a silent plea. His pupils dilated suddenly, his jaw relaxing as he hurriedly released you, sitting back on the bed beside you. Sitting up slowly, you stared at him, ignoring the slight ache in your throat when you swallowed. Kai exhaled through his nose slowly, his hand raising to push back the free strands of limp blue hair. “Sorry.” You whispered into the silence, watching him wearily.  He had scared you. His dark eyes flicked to yours, his gaze now tamed. Beholding the fear he had instilled in you, he shook his head. “Don’t you dare apologise. I’m sorry.”  “No, I shouldn’t have pushed-”  “Stop. I’m sorry. ” Your rambling was interrupted by perhaps the most genuine apology you had ever received from him, causing words to evade you completely.  Kai looked away, his hands itching to reach for you and pull you to him. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet, walking with trailing steps to the door. You surveyed him carefully, watching the tension in the hand he placed on the handle of the door. “I understand if you want to leave. I need to go to my meeting.” And with that he left, his evident remorse still hanging thick in the air.  You stared after him as he shut the door with careful restraint, clearing your throat with a small wince and trying to unpack what the hell had just happened. His grasp on your throat still lingered as the ghost of a touch, the image of his wild eyes flashing down at you prominent in the forefront of your mind. And it broke your heart to allow the thought to manifest but you knew that the Kai you had just witnessed was the Kai walking down the stairs to the basement. It was all you do but hope that the Kai that emerged from his cult meeting wasn’t the same Kai that had just left the room as you lay back on the bed, running a single finger across the hollow of your throat and settling into the silence of the room. 

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler

[dinner-djarin]

Sore (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

(I know the gif is from Monday, but it's as good as it's gonna get)

Summary: Bucky takes care of your aching body, but while he’s at it, he might as well take care of the other ache that needs his attention.

Warmings: SMUT 18+ ONLY. (minors dni), possibly unprotected sex (not directly stated), fingering, piv,

Rating: Explicit

Words: ~1.5K

“Buckyyyy” you wine from your sprawled out position on the bed.

“Yes love.” He answers from the bathroom, finishing his night routine.

“It huuuurts.” You call out again, this time making your voice more soft with your complaint, enough to draw him in.

“What hurts?” He asks, and you hear the source of his tenor much closer than it was before. Suddenly you feel his heat radiate, and you open your eyes to see his form hovering over yours. A gasp escapes your lips, but he continues, “Tell me where, exactly.”

“Everywhere,” you respond breathlessly. Slowly he peels off your t-shirt exposing your bare chest. For a moment you almost groan at the idea, feeling less than physically capable.

Instead, his strong hands grip your body, as he kneels over your hips, and flips you onto your belly before you can even process the chain of events.

He leans over you and whispers directly into your ear, “Where, love?”

You mumble something incoherent as he starts pressing his fingers into your shoulder blades. His thumbs dig deep into the crevices of each muscle, finding the tight knots and loosening them with what you know must be little effort for him. As he outlines the dip of your spine with the palms of each hand, your entire body can’t help but shiver. One hand a bekon of heat, the other teases your senses with pure ice.

At the bottom of your spine, he kneads the palms of his hands into your ass. He works one hand over the flesh, starting dangerously close to the centre, and working his way out, pulling at the muscles. Then with his left, he grazes the area more gently, bringing cool relief to the inflamed area.

He then grabs the back of each of your arms and digs his thumbs between bicep and tricep muscles, making small circular motions that remind you of something-

A groan escapes your lips when he hits a spot in your neck so wonderfully painful. The mix of release and tension so overwhelming it forces the sounds from your throat without your permission. As he pulls on your muscles there, you notice a subtle relief taking over where a throbbing pain used to settle.

“Breath for me baby,” he whispers again. You heed his advice, taking a large, slow inhale and feeling the oxygenated blood reach your swollen muscles, trying to relieve the pain. As you are in the middle of your exhale, however, Bucky takes advantage and presses down once, strong and rapidly, right in the middle of your spine. Release cascades through each vertebrae, and this time you welcome the full moan that follows.

“Jesus, Buck. You are magic.” you whimper from your vulnerable state, feeling fully flattened and steamrolled.

“You don’t know the half of it sweetheart,” his deep voice returning in full force with that sentence, as he flips you back around.

Now with his eyes examining your worked over body, a rush of heat and adrenaline courses through you. You find yourself in a very different mood altogether.

Your cheeks redden as he stares you down, and you smile mischievously, as your fingers make their way to the hem of either his shirt or his pants - whichever you can get to first. When he notices the movement though, he pins your hands to the bed. “Not yet, darling. I need a good look at you. I missed you today.”

“One day at work makes you miss me this much?” You wonder aloud.

“Absolutely.” He dives down to meet your lips with his, and without hesitation you grant him access to your mouth. His tongue makes its way to your own, first with a lick to your upper lip, and a nip to your lower. His hands grab your breasts and he continues to massage them with his thumbs. You hiss at the contrast again, your right nipple perking instinctively at the freezing touch.

With his hands distracted, you reach back down to your original goal. You grab at the waist of his pants and try desperately to pull down, only getting enough fabric to reveal the v-shape muscle and trail of gorgeous brown hair, teasing you towards your true intent.

“Bucky, please.” you wine into his mouth, his right hand making its way into your hair, bracing the back of your neck to keep you locked onto his mouth.

“Slowly, darling. You're hurt, aren’t you?” he teases with a smile, and you groan at his taunting ridicule. You instantly knew the mood he was in, as he had often treated you just like this. He would continue to control every move, push you to your breaking point, and only then - when you were begging for relief - would give you what you desired.

His movements were deliberate. His left hand slid down your body, gliding over your hip and around your ass. He craved more of you in his grip and continued his kneading as you snaked your own arms around his waist, pulling him close in search of contact. In search of friction. Before you could achieve closeness yourself, he slid his hand below your knee and pulled your right leg over his shoulder and replaced his left hand over your clit. With just one layer of fabric between you, the cold was bearable. But soon, his fingers searched deeper, pushing aside your underwear and instantly finding the smooth skin with his thumb. You whined out at the contact. Writhing against his body as you processed his touch. Your nerves felt on fire, but your skin was ice.

After circling the area and letting you adjust to his hand, he slipped a finger into your cunt, earning him another muffled moan, this time verging on a coherent word - but not quite.

Your hips thrusted against his hand, begging for deeper contact than his finger was allowing for. He grew irritated at fighting against the fabric of your underwear and effortlessly ripped them off your body.

“You owe me. Again” you pant between laboured breaths.

“Add it to my tab, love.”

But Bucky was not done with you. Another finger found its way into you, and he curled them up repetitively - over and over - right in a spot that would have had you cursing his name if your mouth had been able to form the words.

You felt your orgasm rising quickly. The blood rushing in from your extremities, leaving them numb and almost cold, as your core heated up rapidly. Your mouth fell open and your breath began to stutter. But just before your walls could squeeze around his hand, he was gone.

“Hey!” You pouted as you snapped your eyes open, staring at him in ridicule.

“Slowly.” He reminded you in a dark, haunting voice.

“If every single muscle in my body wasn’t in a ridiculous amount of pain, I would so kick your ass, Barnes.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

But before you can respond, you are met with an achingly satisfying pressure right up against your clit, rendering you speechless again. Bucky slowly rocks his hips back and forth, soaking the length of his cock in your slick. Your body responds to his movements, and you jerk your hips up to his, seeking more contact, more of him. With each of your thrusts you feel his tip press just past your entrance, teasing you mercilessly, but still bringing you a steady sense of pleasure.

But just when you find a steady rhythm, he snaps forward, plunging into you with sheer force making you finally cry out his name.

Your position is heavenly. With your leg over his shoulder, he leans forward, stretching you to your limit and allowing him to reach a point so deep and aching that you lose all sense of rationality.

The words on your lips drive him crazy as he continues his bruising pace. Over and over you writhe as the pain and pleasure overwhelm you. Your body cries for more as you meet every thrust with your own, desperate for every inch of him. It brings him to the edge, hearing you pant and moan and ache for him. Every breath brings a new, wild sound, and it takes every ounce of restraint to hold back his own groans so he can indulge in every one of your own.

He sees how close you are to your own release. Your body begins to shake as pleasure washes over you. Your whimpers of pleasure turn into breathless pants as your body weakens. Your hips slow, but Bucky continues to grind into you relentlessly as you ride out your orgasm. Then it all happens at once. Your walls finally clamp, and spasm uncontrollably as your pussy tightens around his cock, gripping him in you and sending him directly into his own high. As you cum together, he releases your leg, and your mouths find one another again. Your body is in dire need of oxygen, but instead you supply it with more of him. His tongue begs for yours, and he enters your mouth, now occupying more space inside you.

Your hands lace behind his neck as you ache to pull him closer, and his hand grips your ass again pulling himself into you more as he slows his pace to an almost complete halt. Even when you’ve both come down from your climax, he remains over you, unwilling to leave your body just yet.

After what feels like eternity, he reluctantly leaves you, making you feel a devastating emptiness that you already desire to fill again.

The two of you lie in silence beside each other, trying to regain your breath and steady your heartbeats.

“What happened to slowly,” you question between exasperated breaths, a slight laughter escaping you once you find some air.

“Serves me right. Now I’m gonna be sore.”

[wizkiddx]

I would for sure read a continuation of the birth photographer fic if you feel comfortable writing it/have time! Xx

a/n sorry I kinda combined these two together, I hope this is okay!! sorry ive taken so long too!! my requests are still open, just going a bit slowly :)

summary: literally just birth + harry

dad!tom x reader

warnings: childbirth, mentions of fainting, squint for suggestiveness too

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Your doing so good darling, just keep breathin’ like that for me, in-out-in-out”

That had pretty much been the soundtrack to your last 3 hours. And yes it was MORE annoying than it sounds. Of course, that’s also ignoring the insane amount of pain your uterus was putting you through - as it spasmed while the little bug in there was wriggling away. Giving birth was not easy but giving birth with a husband-turned-midwife wittering away in your ear? Un-fucking-bearable. 

“Tom…. I love you but..” Everything had really been starting to ramp up in the last half an hour, you were a panting sweaty mess now. “Please… SHUT THE FUCK UP” Tom would’ve recoiled completely away from the bed because of your tone, if it wasn’t for the absolute death grip you had his right hand in. Instead,  Tom settled for straightening straight up and staring helplessly and dejectedly across the room at his brother - who of course was trying to hold back laughter, knowing it would be very easy for you to switch your target to him. 

Clearly it wasn’t a social call to the hospital, Harry was here under the premise of taking photos when the baby arrives for Tom;  but really to stop his brother from having his own breakdown - as commissioned by you. Lets just say, however scared and mortified Harry was of this ‘event’ he was taking a lot of enjoyment from how his brother was acting currently. 

“It’s okay sir, if you were pushing a watermelon out of hole that normally was the size of a whiteboard marker, I’m sure you’d be a bit tetchy too.” That lady was your favourite midwife and in a lull between the sets of contractions, you actually managed a laugh. Wide-eyed, Tom just nodded jerkily, murmuring some sort of agreement. It was at this point a flash of light reverberated around the whole room, causing you to breathlessly laugh, Harry’s face informing you the picture he just got of Tom was priceless. 

The laughter didn’t last long though, the next contraction had you bearing down on the bed, face contorted in pain as you sucked desperately on the gas and air tube. 

“Okay Y/n I think we might be getting there, let me call the senior midwifes in okay?” The midwife had your legs hiked apart, a blanket attempting to cover your modesty - but at this point she was basically sticking her face in your noon. Modesty was out the window. 

“Already?” Tom was shocked to say the least, from all his reading and research he’d learnt that the average labour time was more like 5 hours. Lets just say, Tom never exceled in school, never much enjoyed reading - which made the hours of highlighting baby books and pregnancy leaflets all the more extraordinary. 

“Babies don’t stick to the script sir.” You could tell she was proud of the pun there, because you know, Tom’s a moviestar. “Professional improvisers, the lot of them.” 

The cream walls of the hospital room very quickly filled with more and more people - Harry staying like a fly on the wall, now nervously biting his nails as he watched an obscene amount of medical people all take their turn oggling his sister-in-law’s bits. This was a weird ass situation. 

Almost immediately it was at the point the midwifes were telling you to push, which after 9 months of holding a baby in (as well as your ill functioning bladder) sounded like an absolute dream. But it was also absolutely terrifying and exciting and horrifying all wrapped in one. Naturally then, after nodding hesitantly at the midwife between your legs, you’d craned your neck across to tom .You might’ve just told him off, for trying to encourage you, but now? You needed his encouragement. 

What met you though, was his face completely drained of colour, mouth hanging slightly open as he hadn’t moved - still staring intently at the midwife. She followed your gaze, only taking half a second to survey the situation before knowingly smiling. 

“Can we get a bit of help for dad please?” Immediately one of the more junior looking midwives was directing (pushing) Tom into the chair next to the floor. Suddenly actually concerned, you looked with wide eyes to the lady between your legs, who you felt bad for not remembering her name. With a comforting squeeze of your ankle she reassured you he’d be right as rain after a few moments of having his head between his knees. Also sensing you needed your support, she arched up, beckoning over to Harry who had an equally bemused look on his face. 

“No - I-um I’m not.” His squeaking protests were interrupted by a large scream on your part, as another contraction tore through your body. Helplessly Harry glanced between Tom, who was still hunched over on a chair with a nurse squatted infront of him; and you, writhing around on the mechanical bed. He didn’t hesitate then, in jumping right to your side, allowing you to start crushing all the bones in his hand too. 

And then it was all happening, a blur of activity and screams. It didnt take long for Tom to pull himself together and then you were flanked on both sides by Holland boys - both giving cheesy encouraging words (which you would’ve again told them to shut the fuck up for, if you’d been able to), Tom also stroking the top of your head. He found it pretty impossible, watching the woman that he loved go through such immense pain - especially when he was technically half the cause. Well… actually more that that, it had been him who had been… well shall we say *needy* those nine months ago. 

“Okay Y/n the heads crowning, I know you’re tired but we need a few more big pushes, can you do that for me?” 

Merely 5 minutes later and the most beautiful sound in the world echoed through the 4 creams walls. You were absolutely spent, eyes closed as you panted, knowing tears were flooding down your face too. Immediately though, familiar hands cupped both sides of your face, a forehead resting on yours. 

“You did it Y/n/n.” His eyes were glassy, watering and red and the way he scoffed a smile in disbelief had you mirroring him exactly.

“We did it.” Your voice was hoarse and scratchy from all the yells of pain but it didnt matter. The midwife calling you by the name ‘mum and dad’ got both of your attention, a title you’d no doubt start getting used to. 

“Meet your beautiful baby girl.” Another choked sob escaped your throat, as  this little roughly wrapped up pink alien looking thing was placed onto your chest. Both you and Tom just gazed at her, completely transfixed at the way she wriggled her head slightly, nuzzling into your chest. Tom gently hovered his palm against her little head, while you pressed down the blanket gently, just so you could see all her features. 

Then a flash echoed around the otherwise silent room, making you all look up to Harry who was gritting his teeth in apology. “Do mum and dad want to smile for the camera?” The question was posed so hesitantly and quietly, really it wasn’t funny either. That didn’t stop you and Tom both pulling out the biggest grins and chuckling away, allowing Harry to capture the perfect moment. Being referred to as mum and dad - it was bloody comical. 

“You gonna tell me her name now?”  You looked from Harry to Tom, nodding in approval for him to spill the beans. 

“Amber. She’s Amber.”

You’d squabbled for months before ending on Amber. It had been a long relentless process, Tom claiming that your baby might just have ended up as ‘as yet untitled’ which you and your hormonal state had stormed out at. It hadn’t taken much to forgive it though, Tom had long since worked out that Ben and Jerrys was the way to your heart. 

The nurses took Amber back to do some tests, properly cleaning both you and her up and after that everything was weirdly calm. Harry had left to give the twothree of you a moment alone and Tom was about to do his turn of skin to skin. 

“This really is it isn’t it?” He murmured, whilst carefully scooping Amber from your arms. 

“Mhmmm… your stuck with two girls who’ll go psycho on you without a moments notice.” He seemed to accept it though, just nodding in response. 

“And I still can’t bloody wait.” His eyes penetrating deep into you, had you blushing like a nervous teenage girl. “ ‘m still so proud of you, you grew this little human.”

“Your not allowed to call her little because you didnt have the ‘little’ thing rip your insides apart.”

“Hey! I’m upset about it too! Was like I had to watch my favourite pub being burnt down.” Of course, trust Tom to make a dirty joke at a time like this.

“Don’t kid yourself, you weren’t watching, too busy fainting.”

“I didn’t actually faint!” This time he protested a bit too loudly, causing Amber to mewl a little and bury her head into the crook of her Dads arm. “I think Ambers just told you to shut it too.”

“You annoy the hell out of…” Your grumbling was interrupted by an impressive, ear-splitting yawn. “ You annoy the hell out of me.”

“But you love me?” He sing-songed, now back to a hushed tone. 

“I hope so, otherwise we’re in a bit of trouble.” He scoffed, but nodded his head, taking the hand that wasn’t cradling Amber to tuck some sweaty, knotted strands of hair behind your ear. 

“I do owe Harry though, he was at least able to stay on his feet.”

“He was a better birthing partner than you too, much much less condescending and annoying.” You sniggered, making Tom pout once again, only wiping the look off his face when you yawned again, rubbing an your eye like a toddler would. 

“If your done insulting me… get some rest love, I got you.” All you did was nod, with a small groan (because below your waist still hurt like a bitch) rolled over so you could fall asleep to sight of the two of them. 

“Got you both, my two beautiful girls.”

hope you enjoyed, would love to hear any thoughts <3

taglist: @hollandfanficlove @hallecarey1

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

A Little Indulgence (Spencer Reid x Reader Smut)

Summary: After returning home, Y/N discovers that Spencer has brought back something from prison.

AN: This was part of the smut fic swap in @imagining-in-the-margins's server! I wrote for the gorgeous pal that is @cardigayn <3 love you <3 Reader is AFAB and uses they/them pronouns!

For my SFW fic entry for the swap, check out Valentines Day For Nerds!

Word count: 3.4k words

Content warnings: Knife kink, thigh riding, daddy kink, mild choking, spanking, biting, smangst

Your name: submit What is this?

The sudsy water masked the cutlery from sight, so Y/N’s hands were only submerged for a split second before they retracted with a gasp as sharp as the blade that cut them.

Spencer had acted fast; he found the first aid kit, deftly picking out the bandages in preparation for determining the right size. It had been his fault really. He was the one constantly sharpening the blades. He was never really satisfied with them, even when they could slice an onion without causing tears or rip through a cut of meat like it was wet paper.

The setting sun fanned over the room as Spencer’s nimble fingers wrapped cotton gauze around Y/N’s hand. They checked the pressure on the cut was tight enough. But they were moving on muscle memory alone. His mind had strayed to Y/N reaching carefully into the sink with their intact hand and retrieving the offender from it. Bubbles dripped off the edge, teasing him with its enticing appearance.

The second Y/N was deemed “fine”, Spencer left them alone. He ran for the bathroom and slammed the door. With the lock turned in, he stripped off his stifling clothes until he was free of his tie, his jacket, his shirt. Cold water splashed onto his cheeks didn’t calm him. The mirror fogged up beneath his nose with his deep breaths, in, out, in, out, his forehead against his reflection’s. His eyes were dilated, as he flexed his fingers over the crotch in his pants. A sigh from deep in his chest relieved itself. Things really had changed since Scratch.

He left the tap on to disguise any cry that might wriggle free from him. In all honesty, Spencer half wanted to weep that he was thinking of such things while his partner had injured themselves. He should be helping them, maybe leaving a quick peck on the bandage because Y/N once told him that a kiss on a cut defied science and made everything better.

His mind cast itself towards self-destruction and a horrendous link between himself and a young man he once knew. Nathan Harris, trapped in his mind, so aware that what he was feeling and thinking was morally wrong, but the poor kid still felt it and he nearly succumbed to it.

Spencer wanted to know if he was still institutionalised. Perhaps if he was more like Gideon, Spencer would have kept track of the victims their cases had come across.

Gideon.

Victims.

He wasn’t a victim. He refused. It was just a small cut from a kitchen knife. It wasn’t as if he was harming anyone. Yet.

He wasn’t Gideon. He wasn’t going to run away with just a note in his absence.

“Spencer?”

Three raps at the door, Spencer heard from Y/N on the other side. He forced one more slow breath out before he unlocked the bathroom door and ripped it open.

“Are you ok?” Y/N’s gaze dropped to his pants then back to his eyes – just for a second but Spencer noticed.

His voice was low as he replied, “I’m alright.”

As if in slow motion, his hand reached out for theirs. They noticed but did not make a comment at his speed. They let him take it, and his thumb grazed over the plaster that covered their injury.

“Are you?” He asked just as quietly.

Y/N looked down again, saw the strain in his trousers. Spencer watched them with cautious arousal as they connected the dots at lightning speed.

“I’m alright,” They said, their voice surprisingly steady as they strained to keep looking at his eyes, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

They were so genuine. They wanted the best for him. They would do anything for him.

“Maybe not help.”

Confusion crinkled their brow, “What then?”

He should stop here. He should keep what his limits were here a mystery. He shouldn’t.

“Indulge me.”

And he pressed his thumb hard on the cut.

From Y/N, Spencer drew an inhale that was sharper than the knife that cut them. It fuelled his intentions, his other hand brushing their hair over their shoulder before it settled on their throat. It stroked gently, not forceful – for now.

Their body instinctively moved closer, barely an inch but it was enough to tell Spencer two things. One: Y/N was willing to let this play out. Two: their right arm was too far behind their back to be considered comfortable.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” Spencer kept watch of them as his hand slid along their arm, across their trembling skin until he found their fist holding the accused knife. His entire body slumped with a sigh against them. Carefully, he coaxed them to ease the grip and took the handle into his own power. He saw their throat wobble as they swallowed.

“You ought to be more careful with these.” Spencer held the blade up in the space between them, his reflection more assured now. Y/N was staring at it too, so lost in its splendour that their chest jumped in surprise when Spencer released their throat to fist at their flimsy shirt and pull them closer.

“You’re not particularly attached to this one, are you? Use your words.” He reminded them when they shook their head.

“No,” Y/N whispered and their stomach sucked in as Spencer pierced the shirt with the tip of the blade.

Their bottom lip shook and Spencer restrained his urge to bite it as he said, “You know I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I do.” The knife began gliding up the shirt as though it were warm butter.

Spencer continued, “You know, unless I wanted to. Unless you wanted me to.”

Y/N nodded, barely though, “I do know.”

“Because you wouldn’t have brought me this if you didn’t know that. But you do. You know just what I need.”

The blade caught at the end of the shirt, stuck for just a second before it flicked up and broke the final links of fabric. The tip of the knife caught on Y/N’s chin and stayed there to sting it. They were shaking. One more shiver out of place and the skin would break but there was no tension in their shoulders or panicked panting. They were as collected as they could be with all their attention on the blade.

“You can’t take your eyes of it either,” Spencer sighed. He was almost jealous of it, but something about this knife was truly captivating. Right now, he was feeling like he was holding it for the first time again – because Y/N was feeling its effects for the first time.

His breath was agitated as he whispered to them, “Tell me you want this too. Please.”

“Daddy,” and Spencer felt his stomach twist with absolute joy as Y/N spoke, “I want this.”

His fist released them, and he watched the confusion cross their face. It was soon replaced with bashfulness as he shamelessly looked at their chest, drinking in how it was framed in the tatters of their shirt. A minor inner conflict ensued as he forced himself to take his time moving from the en suite to the bed, sitting up against the headboard. Once comfortable, the knife lolled in a controlled bounce between his fingers.

“Take that off. Come here.”

After a moment’s processing, Y/N quickly shed the shirt and took the initiative to remove the rest of their clothes. But not their underwear, they knew Spencer liked to be the one to take those off. They knelt over his lap, awaiting his next instruction. One that Spencer was all too happy to give.

“Get off on my thigh.”

Y/N took matters into their own hands when it came to wriggling off Spencer’s trousers and underwear, not even bothering to take them completely off before they straddled his thigh and began grinding against his bare skin. His cock rested against his belly, twitching at the occasional brushing up against the enthusiastic Y/N and leaking eagerly. As his own form of torture, Spencer refused to touch it or ask Y/N to do so. All he could touch was Y/Nand the knife’s handle. He pulled them closer with a hand on their hip. It guided them in their motions once they noticed the knife was at their throat, and their head leant back as they moaned, exposing more for Spencer to target.

Control after such chaos, it was just what he needed. As he dropped his head into Y/N’s chest and kissed the swell of their soft breasts, he lowered the knife. He controlled the danger Y/N was in, and they let him control it. They trusted him, even if he didn’t completely trust himself.

“Spencer? Daddy?”

Y/N touched their nose to Spencer’s, seeking out the answer to why his grip had slacked. He also noted that Y/N had stopped grinding onto his thigh.

Spencer gave into temptation and he bit down on that delicious bottom lip of theirs. It was sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted with the moan from their throat as a garnish. The knife rested at the slope of their neck.

He released their lip to murmured against it, “I could fuck you with the handle.”

Their nose bumping against his as they shook their head, Y/N whined, “No.”

“No?” Eyebrows raised at the audacity they had, to use him then deny his words.

But then Y/N opened their eyes, pleading with them as they said, “Next time.”

They were touching his hand now, the same spot where they had cut themselves and their bandage pressed into each other with their fingers linked.

“I want your cock in me now, and I want you to hold the knife against me. Please, Daddy.”

All sense of Spencer’s gorgeous hazel eyes was lost as two rings around his pupils. His jaw went slack as he processed their request, his laboured breath falling from his lips. Finally, he took in a deep breath, straightening up his back and resuming his role as the Dominant again.

“You’re getting really greedy, baby. You should watch your mouth.”

Y/N continued to plead with their puppy dog eyes, leaning close to him. Their bodies were pressed as close as they could be. Spencer’s trousers were still frustratingly in the way so he kicked them off.

Luckily for Y/N, Spencer was greedy too. The promise of “next time” is what let them off their backtalk this time.

He quickly unhooked Y/N’s bra, letting them be the impatient one to throw it aside. His sitting position adjusted itself against the headboard before he allowed them to sit in his lap again. Once comfortable, he dotted their chest with purple, the knife keeping their back arched into him.

Their panties were grazed by the knife before they were merely pushed aside and Spencer stroked through their lips with a tactile fingertip, sharing a groan from how wet they were. He could never tire of that, or of Y/N sinking down on him, how warm and welcoming they were, how they clung to him like a limpet.

Y/N began to move. Every motion was more longing and enrapturing than the last, Spencer finding it hard to keep up and hold back. His free hand continued rubbing on their thigh, spanking their skin and counting each one until the spot beneath his palm was red. Every time, Y/N gasped and jumped, the blade pressing harder into them.

“Touch yourself,” Spencer rasped against their skin. He leant back to make way for their clumsy fingers, rubbing at themselves covetously.

“Please, Daddy.” Y/N cut themselves off and their cheek found the flat side of the blade to press itself against, now warm from their flushed contact, “Can I cum please?”

“Yes, you can, cum for me.”

The need to meet them in completion overpowered him and Spencer abandoned the knife to grab them with both hands, fucking into them harder as they cried out for him. Their nails dragged across his shoulders and he welcomed the pain from each fingertip. It only spurred him to move faster.

“I’m gonna fill you up.”

Y/N nodded eagerly, their stamina waning before picking back up at the notion, meant in no time at all he was keeping his word. They beautifully reached their orgasm with Spencer’s fingers tight around their throat once more, bringing on his own orgasm soon after with their snug cunt milking his cock for all it was worth.

Using his grip on their neck, Spencer pulled Y/N down against his lips and slurred into their mouth, “Thank you.”

Then he lifted his hips up, enjoying the pleasure flaring up as he did so. His shuffling down the bed was lacklustre but it worked enough for when he fell onto his back. Bringing Y/N with him, he could feel his cock slide out of them and something warm and wet dribble onto the top of his leg. If only he had the energy to plug it back in there, push it back with his tongue. All he could do now was lift himself up a little, reach over Y/N and pull their underwear back into place. As Y/N said earlier, “next time”.

“Thank you.” Spencer brushed Y/N’s hair off their back, letting it tangle with his. “Thank you. You’re so good to me.”

“And so are you… D’you need anything?”

“I’m good, you?”

“Me too.”

As his arms spread out on the bed, Spencer’s right elbow found the knife again. Too late, it was sliding off the edge, a muted clatter against the carpet reaching their ears just moments later. A few seconds later, Y/N lifted off him, their sweaty skin clinging to each other as if to plead for them to stay, but it was Spencer who let out the noise of complaint this time. Y/N was quick though. They simply moved the knife into the bedside drawer and closed it before landing beside Spencer, wriggling to get that proximity once again.

Spencer found himself kissing the palm that cradled his face, breathing it in, plaster and skin and all. Soon he was curling into them, his face hidden in their neck as he wrapped his body around them. There were a few more grunts as sporadic pangs of pleasure rippled through them both, until they finally settled still. Y/N combed their fingers through Spencer’s thick hair, tugging just how he liked it.

He didn’t know really how to describe it. He just felt warm.

“Spencer?” Y/N’s voice was a little above a whisper, a crack chipping the last syllable.

“Yeah?”

“Would you…” They tilted their chin up to the ceiling. Spencer didn’t push; he gave them time, just as they had done, to answer.

“Would you let me shave you one day, please? With the straight razor?”

Spencer’s smile grew back on his face, “Of course.”

“And would you use the knife handle on me next time please?”

“Why were you more nervous about asking to shave me?” Spencer kissed where a faint ring of teeth marks met their neck, feeling it rumble with their giggling.

“I don’t know!” They covered their eyes with their hand.

To encourage them to come back out of their little shame cave, Spencer kissed where his lips fell and nodded, “Yes, next time, I’ll use the handle, Y/N.”

“We’ll have to make sure you don’t cut yourself.”

They cared for his wellbeing. He should too.

For now, at least, things weren’t so bad. Clarity from his orgasm told him that the guilt would set in by tomorrow. But he’d address it then and let the final dregs of their indulgence rock him to sleep.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 BONUS

Tonight was a transaction. Spencer was midway through his side of the bargain – keeping Y/N comfortable. They didn’t seem to mind the granite of the countertop pressing into their back as Spencer ate them out with gusto, his knees protected by a pillow against the tiled kitchen floor. His hair was tugged at the roots. Sometimes he felt Y/N’s heel tap against his back as they balanced on one foot to use the other to bring him closer. It was largely ineffective, but it pleased him that they weren’t completely in control of their needy actions.

His lips parted from theirs, and they whined at the cool gentle air he blew against them. They both knew that Y/N knew they weren’t allowed to cum without permission. They both knew that this wasn’t the end. But only Spencer knew where this was going next.

Leaning back on his heels, he pulled open the drawer beside Y/N. His hands were careful as they retrieved the knife he was after. He’d memorised its place in that drawer. Once again, Y/N was trapped in a stare. Their gaze followed the knife with confusion as Spencer began to wrap a hand towel around the blade.

When Spencer caught sight of this, he raised an eyebrow and waved the handle around in a circle. “You did say next time.”

A hint of guilt crawled around in his gut. Perhaps they would think he was pressuring them to keep a promise they made in a daze of hormones.

But Y/N simply whispered, “I did. I also said we’d have to make sure you don’t cut yourself.”

“I’ve thought about this already,” Spencer said as his fingers held the blade - safely encased by the towel.

“Me too.”

With his eyes as wild as his hair, Spencer moved the end of the handle across their sex, tentatively stroking it across where their cum and his spit met. Then he took a leisurely pace to push it inside them. His eyes fixated on the way they clenched around it, unconsciously wanting more while they restrained their other movements with stiff knuckles grasping at the countertop.

“How’s that feel?” Spencer said quietly, his hot breath hitting their skin as hard as the curves of the handle pressed against their walls.

Through their exhale, Y/N replied, “It’s good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer began pulling the knife out slowly once it reached halfway inside of them, “Not as good as me though.”

“No, never.”

Right answer.

He pushed it back in, until the edge of the blade was an inch from their soaked sex. Then he released it.

“Spenc-”

“Stop. Keep it there. I know you can.”

The hand towel dropped, untangled and fell off the blade.

Spencer leant back again and watched how the blade quivered with them now, reacting to their body just as they reacted to it. “Careful now. If you don’t hold it still, you could cut yourself.”

Y/N let out a groan of frustration but they listened to his demands. Soon the knife was near still. There was still a familiar tremble that shifted it from inside of them, but it was nothing to worry about yet. Licking his lips, a hint of their taste still on them, Spencer reached out to their clit and began rubbing it. He delighted in Y/N’s groans.

“That’s it, keep that cunt tight.” Eyes still on them, he pulled out from his underwear his cock and stroked his hands in time together. It thrilled him to no end, his pleasure only increased by theirs. “Does it feel good?”

“Daddy, please,” Y/N bit their lip, unable to look at what Spencer was doing to them.

“Look at you, trying to keep that still in you, all tense, when I’m teasing your pretty clit. What’s it like knowing you want more but you can’t have it?”

They were struggling, the blade slipping out millimetre by millimetre despite their best efforts. Their hips jerked as they would when riding him. But their thighs were forced apart lest the shining metal between them bite worse than their Daddy. They were simply too aroused to do a better job, poor baby.

“You know how I like looking at them.”

Spencer leant close, breathing in their earthy smell, and he pressed a kiss on their clit. His lips parted for him to lick at it twice, to feel their most sensitive parts twitch against his mouth again. He looked at their face as his finger found the blunt tip of the knife and pushed the handle back up into them. Y/N’s mouth fell open, a ragged gasp shaking at the back of their throat. Spencer looked back at the knife just in time to see a drop of their cum slip down the edge of it. His cock twitched. His teeth bared in a smile.

“But this view is my favourite.”

[cake-writes]

Risk

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: filthy smut with a smidge of fluff, language kink, breeding kink, subtle D/s undertones, marking, exhibitionism if you squint, 18+

Word Count: 1.7k

Y’ALL, I AM IN A MOOD THIS WEEK, OKAY??? HOPE YOU ENJOY. FUCK.

You love it when Bucky talks dirty. That’s a given.

He does it in English, mostly, but sometimes he likes to play a game with you – likes to break out his repertoire of languages and catch you off guard. It’s always at the most inopportune times, too: on a mission, usually, or in public. Places where he knows you’re stuck with him whispering the dirtiest things imaginable into your ear, things you just can’t understand.  

You love it. He knows.

So he ambushes you – cool metal fingers dig into the flesh of your hip as he murmurs something absolutely terrible into your ear, hot breath fanning against sensitive skin. A shiver wracks through your body at the low timbre of his voice, and although you can’t understand a lick of what he’s said, it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“What does that mean?” you ask breathily, looking up at him through your lashes.  

The two of you are in the communal kitchen prepping your meals for the upcoming week. No one else is around, but that’s not to say it’ll stay that way.

You can see the amusement dancing in his eyes – always such a lovely blue, but dark with the carnal implication in his words, whatever they were. 

Back in English, he teases, “Guess.”

“That I’m cute,” you suggest, playing along even though he’s very clearly turned you on. “That I’m incredible. That you want me to have your chubby little babies.” 

A joke.

Bucky’s eyes widen for a split second, and he stares at you – really stares – and that’s when you realize your joke isn’t too far off the mark. The flush blooming on his cheeks only confirms it, which instantly sets your body aflame.

“Bu—Bucky,” you sputter, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “Don’t—” Distant footsteps sound from the hallway, and you hiss, “Don’t say that.”

A split second of silence offers you a chance to hear the thumping of your heartbeat in your ears. The footsteps slowly disappear down the corridor, not that you particularly care because the edge of the counter is pressing into the small of your back and he’s caged you in. With his arms on either side of your body, flesh and vibranium, you’re trapped.

You love it. He knows.

“Why not?” Bucky whispers, holding your gaze with determination and holy hell, he’s serious.

Licking your lips does nothing to alleviate the sudden dryness in your throat.

“We can’t,” you croak, but it’s a lie.

Oh, yes, you can.

“You’ve thought about it,” Bucky whispers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your jawline. “I know you have, ‘cause I have. Don’t tell me you haven’t.”

He’s not wrong.

The breath hitches in your throat when he adds something else in another language you don’t speak, dulcet tones ghosting against your skin, but this time you don’t need feel the need to ask. Even you can tell what he’s said.

“Yeah,” you say in a delicate rasp. “Yeah, okay.”

Except you’re in just the right part of your cycle where you can’t.

Your consent is all Bucky needs before he lifts you onto the counter and nudges your legs open for him to slot in between. His lips and tongue ravish your neck as his hands grab your ass to pull you forward to the edge of the counter – and then you feel exactly how much he wants this, too. He’s rock hard, aching, confined by coarse black denim that feels entirely too good against the damp fabric of your panties.

Oh, yes, you can.

“It might actually take,” you blurt out, but in the heat of the moment that’s exactly what you want. You want it to take.

Bucky suddenly rips one of his hands away from your ass to palm himself, keep himself from blowing too soon. It’s an unexpected admission from you, one that’s sent him spiralling right along with you.

“Christ,” he swears, low and rough, and the look he gives you makes you clench desperately around nothing. He is serious. “You can’t just—” Cool fingers curl around the crotch of your panties and he yanks them to the side – almost tears them off of you in the process. “Gotta be inside you if you’re gonna say things like that, doll.”

Even you can smell the unmistakable tang of your arousal in the air. He slides two fingers from his free hand through your slick folds, as if testing to see how wet you are, and when you see his brows raise in surprise it makes your face flush even hotter.

Then the surprise gives way to smugness, and that’s when you know he’s found you out.

“Tell me how much you want this,” he says, smugness seeping into his voice, too.

An order.

“I— I want—” you stammer, but it’s all you can get out before his fingertips brush your clit, making you jolt, making you forget what you were about to say.

“You’re this soaked,” he puts emphasis on the word just as his fingertips dip just inside your entrance, “and I’ve barely even touched you. Why’s that, sweetheart?”

Taunts that make you shiver.

“You know why,” you try to sass, but it just comes out weak.

You both know that’s the wrong answer, but Bucky rewards you anyway. He slides those two fingers deep inside you with ease, before he curls them in just the way that has you keening and your eyelids fluttering shut, especially when he leans back in to suck a bruise on your neck.

A mark. A claim.

It’s that thought that makes your back arch instinctively, makes you press your body closer to his.

Then he lets your panties go with a snap against the inner junction of your thigh to embed his free hand in your hair, and he uses his grip to pull your head back. The sharp, pleasurable pain wrenches a strangled cry from your throat.

“I said,” he breathes into your ear, “why’s that, sweetheart?”

Another rough curl of his two fingers inside of you, and you whimper.

In this moment, you want him and every fucking thing he’s willing to provide. Even this. Especially this.

“Fuck me,” you plead.

You both know it’s more than that. 

It’s a bad idea, absolutely, but god is it a good answer and you know it’s the right one because he lets go of your hair to strip the clothing from his lower half. Deft vibranium works to unbutton and unzip his pants in seconds before his boxers hit the floor. His cock springs free, and he’s hard – too hard – positively aching for you, for this, for what you want from him.

But Bucky pauses, then, no matter how desperate the two of you are. He meets your eyes and just stops, and of course you can’t help but be mesmerized by the tenderness and care in those beautiful baby blues. 

A silent question: are you sure?

You’re not, but it’s not like the two of you aren’t prepared. You’ve been together for ages. In this moment, it just makes sense.

“Let’s make a baby,” you say breathlessly.

That’s when he kisses you again, slower this time – soft and sweet and gentle, which quickly morphs back into another passionate frenzy when he finally decides to put you out of your misery. Bucky slides home just as his tongue slides into your mouth, hot and wanting and dominant.

Another claim.

You can’t help but gasp at the pleasurable stretch, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re squeezing me like a vice, doll,” he breathes against your lips, and he stays still. “You want me to fuck a baby into you?”

He’s barely even started and you can already feel your walls constricting around him, trying to milk him for every drop he’s worth.

“God, please—”

Bucky watches your face as he slowly withdraws from your velvet heat – far too slow for your liking, but you know he’s trying to hold himself back from finishing too soon. Then he buries himself to the hilt in a single thrust, punching the breath from your lungs, and you reconsider.

“B-Bucky,” you stammer, arms flying around his neck as he fucks into you, his tight grip on your hips leaving bruises.

You don’t care about that, either.

Your breaths come out short, laboured as he slams over and over into your g-spot – he knows the angle, knows what you like, knows your body even better than you do. One of his hands slides up your abdomen to palm your breast through your shirt, and then higher to the back of your neck – cold metal chill against sweat-slickened skin, baby hairs on the back of your neck catching in between the plates.

You don’t care, because all you can focus on is him.

The way he’s looking at you holds you captive, holds you steady – holds you there until suddenly you’re hovering over the edge, just waiting to fall, but you know he’ll catch you.

“Are you sure?” he vocalizes this time, hoarsely, and you can tell he’s close, too. There’s sweat dotting his brow, and his thrusts are getting more and more frantic.

A warning.

“Fill me up,” you gasp out, legs tightening around his waist to pull him closer. “Give me a baby, Bucky, please.”

And then he’s kissing you again, all teeth and tongues, absolutely pounding you into oblivion until the hot coil in your abdomen finally breaks. You pitch forward and clutch at his shoulders, bury your face in his neck to muffle your cries as your walls clench down around him, desperately trying to milk him dry. That’s what sends him over the edge; the velvety squeeze of your slick heat has him slamming inside of you as far as he can go, once, twice, and then comes a delicious burst of liquid heat that marks your insides like a brand.

Another claim.

“Jesus,” he swears under his breath. 

Dazedly, you crack your eyes open to find out what’s the matter. Lips parted, face flushed, hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, Bucky looks absolutely wrecked. He’s not looking at your face, but down at your abdomen, where he’s just emptied himself inside of you.

Red marks all over your hips. They’ll turn dark later, but you don’t care.

Then he meets your eyes again, absolutely awed by what the two of you have just done.

Another silent question: You really think it’ll take?

You respond with a shy smile and shrug a little, but you’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a yeah. 

A soft, sweet kiss is what finally seals the deal.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Brian Zvonecek x Reader Wake Up

Written by: @anotheronechicagobog​

Warnings: Swearing, childbirth (from both animals and people), mention of miscarriage, mention of infertility, mention of fear and insecurities about not being able to get pregnant, it’s really not as angsty as it sounds I’m just being careful, fake Instagram post at the end

“You’re the only one I wanna wake up to”

“Well, we’ve been married for seven years so I should hope so.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N.”

“I do.”

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

After Brian went to work you dropped your daughter Sasha off at school before heading to work yourself. You weren’t a first responder, you were a doctor technically, but not one for humans. You work at the aquarium as a veterinarian. It was an interesting job, you were always up doing something interesting. For example, as you were performing an ultrasound on a guitar shark, all that you could think about was how your mom had wanted you to be an accountant. “And there’s the heartbeat, there is at least one pup in there. I’d like to check again in a month or so, there hasn’t been a lot of research done on these guys so I don’t know how long gestation will be, or even how many pups she’ll have in total. Let’s get her back in the exhibit, I’ll set up another appointment. And her handlers? That’s you- and you? Okay great, we’ll need to up her allotted food. I think just straight up doubling would be best, if that seems like too much you can dial it back, and if it seems like too much page me, got it? Good.”

You still smelled like seawater and blubber when you got home to a tea party in your living room. The sight of four massive firefighters wearing tutus and costume jewellery all while crammed into tiny chairs at a tiny table always made your day. “Hey guys, mind if I steal a lemon square?”

“Mommy you’re home!” Sasha tackled you as well as a five-year-old could. “Is Halo pregnant? Is she?”

“Yes, she is. There is at least one baby on the way. There are probably more though because...?”

“Guitarfish in the wild have six babies on aberage!”

“That’s right! Look at you, getting so smart!”

“Yeah, soon you’ll be smarter than me.”

“She’s already smarter than you, Brian.”

“Hey!”

“That’s not nice uncle Sevy. No more cookies for you.” Kelly looked genuinely hurt at the punishment Sahsa had dolled out on him. “But they’re chocolate chip. Chocolate chip is my favourite.”

“Then you shouldn’t have been mean to daddy.”

“I’m gonna go shower, you guys continue with your tea party.” You left with a wink and a kiss on Sasha’s forehead. Brian got this soft look in his eyes as he regarded the two of you, and in the back of your mind you weren’t surprised. He’d never been shy about wanting two or three kids, you’d just been delaying it a bit because of how labour intensive your work was. And there was the added danger of what could happen to a fetus under lots of water pressure when you went diving into the large, and deep, exhibits. But you didn’t want to put off the discussion any longer, if you were being honest, you wanted more kids too, and there was already going to be quite the age gap between Sasha and any future sibling(s). You thought about how to bring up your points, your concerns as you stepped out of the shower into the steam-filled bathroom. Ultimately, Brian could not and would not force you to have another child. If you didn’t want another, he would leave it at that because he understood where most of the labour in the reproductive system lay.

Kelly, Matt, and Joe were still in your living room hanging onto Sasha’s every word. Every few seconds Sasha would slap on of Kelly’s hands away from where it was creeping towards the cookie plate. You spotted Brian in the kitchen, prepping a roast pan of potatoes, carrots, and sausages for dinner. You slinked up to his side and kissed his cheek. “Mhmm, you don’t smell like whale anymore.” 

“Gee, thanks. What a way to make your wife feel special.”

“I’ll just put this in the oven and then dinner should be ready in forty-five minutes. Why don’t you join the princesses and I’ll set the table.”

“How about I set the table, you finish cooking dinner, and then we leave the princesses alone for a minute and we have a talk in private?”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No.”

“Then sure.”

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

You two had stepped into the guest room, Brian slightly confused. “Is everything okay? And why are we talking in the guest room instead of hours?”

“How would you feel about turning this room into a nursery- I’m not pregnant, but what if we started trying to have another kid?”

“I- are you sure? I mean, I know with work-”

“Brian, I want another kid. Truthfully, I’ve felt bad putting it off this long, creating such an age gap.”

“Hey, you were doing important research that revolutionized-”

“I know, Brian. I don’t regret it, I’ve just felt bad. I see how some of the Hermann Horde are closer than others and a lot of it is due to age. They’re at different stages in their life so they never get the chance to have the same interests or go through things together the same way.”

“You’re thinking about it the wrong way. Sasha will be able to advise them on so many things in ways we just can’t. And she’ll be the cool older sister because she’ll know different things and have different freedoms. They won’t fight as often because they probably won’t like the same toys or clothes, Sasha will teach them how to deal with us, I mean they might not be close at first, but they’ll have such a great relationship when they get older.”

“Sasha is going to be amazing big sister.”

“Without a doubt.”

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

It had been ten months. You still weren’t pregnant. Honestly, it was stressing you out. What if you couldn’t get pregnant now? What if you waited too long and some problem popped up and now it was too late? You could tell it was wearing on Brian, too. “Mom? Are you okay? You and dad seem... Off lately.”

“Oh, yeah, we’re both okay, don’t worry honey.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Sasha didn’t look convinced as she walked into her school, but you let it be. You took a moment to ground yourself in your car before driving to work. You loved your job, absolutely loved it, but diving was your favourite part and you couldn’t do that while trying for a baby. Once you said you were taking a break from it all your co-workers immediately assumed you were pregnant again. You’d gone from joyful suggestive looks and hugs to pitiful glances and concerned pats on the shoulder. It was grating on your nerves and insecurities. 

Today Melody, a harbour seal, was predicted to give birth. Everyone was on edge. Sometimes these things happened on schedule, sometimes they didn’t. But regardless you remained solely on-call for the perky seal. And while desperately hated to admit it, you were jealous. Of a seal. Who gets jealous of a seal? What kind of person did that make you?

You were brought out of your reverie when Melody plopped her head in your lap. Her eyes soulful. Worried. Was the labour starting? You did another check, and she was. You yelled for your assistants.

Poor Melody, she was in pain, and you could tell she was nervous. This would be her first pup, and even mothers got nervous about their first borns, you supposed. You made sure to stroke her head when you could. “Don’t worry Melody, everything will be okay.” The birth had gone smoothly, Melody and her currently unnamed pup were doing well when pain ripped through you. It was as it someone took and electron pole and buried it in your abdomen. You screamed and fell to the ground. The pain you incurred from hitting your hip and your head on the ground were nothing in comparison to what was going on further down. Oh no, what if I am pregnant and I’m having a miscarriage? The pain stopped but only for brief moments and the only time you could remember feeling anything close to as bad as this was minutes before giving birth to Sasha.

Everything was a blur of distressed seal noises, salt water, splashing, screaming, and sirens. You came back when Dr. Manning gave you you’re diagnosis. “That’s- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- not- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

“It’s called a ‘cryptic pregnancy’. I know it doesn’t feel real because you didn’t go through a normal pregnancy, but you are in labour. Don’t worry, Maggie’s called 51, Brian is on his way.”

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

“Y/N! I’m here- what’s going on?!”

“So- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- as it turns out I’m pregnant.”

“Actually she’s in labour.” Doris bluntly spat at Brian, she raised her eyebrows and pulled her lips into a line, all of which conveyed just how much she was judging you poorly at the moment, the next bucket full of gossip for MED churning in her head.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YOU KNOW WHAT DORIS, MOST WOMEN HAVE NINE MONTHS TO PREPARE FOR GIVING BIRTH AND I’VE HAD LESS THAN AN HOUR SO SHUT THE FUCK UP, GET OUT, AND STAY OUT! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” You honestly felt like you were dying, and the absolute last thing you needed was a catty, gossipy nurse making an already life altering and stressful moment more so. She quickly bolted out of the room, April taking her place. She was quiet, subdued, clearly thinking of her failed attempts at getting pregnant. And while you felt awful for her, you were immensely grateful for a nurse that wasn’t Doris. “I’m right here, honey.”

“You smell like smoke.”

“You smell like fish.” Him in his turnout pants and you in a put up wetsuit, you really did make a pair.

“Touche- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Squeeze my hand.”

“I’ll probably break it.”

“I’m yours to break.”

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[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Haven (8/50)

Summary: They say Resembool is a haven, and they’re right. Lush pastures, quaint country town, farmers’ markets on Saturdays: a bucolic paradise.

But it’s more than that. Resembool is a haven for the runaways, the deserters, the people who don’t want to be found…

The Resembool community knows there’s something odd about Hohenheim, but they’re not going to let that stop them helping him out. This is Resembool after all, a place where no one has to hide and neighbours help neighbours, be they building a fence, chasing a sheep, or trying to save the country from an evil they inadvertently helped release centuries ago…

Or: A series of slices of life in an AU in which Hohenheim never leaves, and several broken state alchemists find hope and home in Resembool.

Rated: T

==

Haven

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [AO3]

Summary: Hohenheim is having some trouble adapting to fatherhood.

Characters: Hohenheim, Pinako, Trisha, Ed

Pairing: Hohenheim/Trisha

==

Hohenheim is a father. He’s been a father for a month and he still can’t quite believe it. Having started out thinking he’d never get the chance for a family thanks to his enslaved status, then thinking that he’d never get the chance because of the small immortality problem making finding a life partner difficult, then thinking, even after marrying the most amazing woman in the world, that he’d never get the chance to have children thanks to the aforementioned immortality problem, he now has a son. 

And he’s absolutely terrified. 

According to Yuriy, he spent the entirety of Trisha’s labour staring into the middle distance completely unresponsive to anything, which was probably because he had several thousand souls alternating between reassuring him that everything was going to be all right and prophesying everything that could go wrong whilst he tried not to think about Trisha howling with pain upstairs. It took Pinako five unsuccessful goes of trying to call him by name before resorting to knocking him upside the head with her pipe to get his attention and get the message across that he was father to a healthy six-pound-nine boy and Mom and Baby were both doing fine. 

Even if he lives another four hundred years, Hohenheim knows that he will never forget holding Edward for the first time, scared of dropping him or hurting him or disturbing him in some way. He’ll never forget when Edward opened bright gold eyes and Hohenheim’s heart had leapt to his mouth knowing that Trisha’s wish had come true and that Xerxes would live on through their child. 

“Van?” Trisha looks up from nursing Edward and smiles at him. “Are you ok, love? You’ve been very quiet lately.”

“I’m still having trouble taking it all in,” he admits. He doesn’t know why. Edward has been with them for a month now, and he had several months of Trisha’s pregnancy to get used to the idea. But there’s something in the back of his mind that’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, and snidely remarking that he’s a monster and that this isn’t for him, that this is destined only to be fleeting and it will all be ripped away from him.

Hohenheim has not thought of himself as a monster for quite a while, ever since the people of Resembool accepted him into their hearts and their community. It’s always been there at the bottom of his psyche, but for a long time it has not been anywhere near as vocal as it is now. It’s like a beast inside, and the last thing that he wants to do is infect Edward with it. 

Not that being a Philosopher's Stone is contagious, but Hohenheim has never been one for taking the most logical thought path. He blames sharing his headspace with so many other voices for that. Voices that then take umbrage at being blamed for his absent-mindedness. 

“I know. Even I can’t believe he’s here sometimes.” She kisses Edward’s downy head before holding him out to Hohenheim. “Will you take him for a minute whilst I get myself sorted out?”

In all his many years of existence, children - young babies in particular - are not something that Hohenheim has ever had much experience with. It’s only since settling in Resembool that people have really trusted him enough not to keep their children away from the strange man from who knows where with the terrifyingly powerful alchemy who also happens not to age and to be invulnerable. He’s learning parenthood alongside Trisha, but whilst she’s taken to it like a duck to water, Hohenheim is still so scared of doing it wrong. 

He carefully holds Edward against his chest, rubbing his back to try and get his wind up. 

“You’re so tense when you hold him,” Trisha says. “You don’t need to be scared of him, he’s far too small to hurt you.”

“I’m more scared of hurting him.”

“You won’t. You’re his father.”

“I know I won’t do it intentionally. But he’s so small, and so breakable…”

“You won’t break him,” Trisha says firmly. He really wants to believe her, but it’s hard with so many voices in his head warning him of all the ways in which he could accidentally harm the precious bundle in his arms. Almost as if he can sense Hohenheim’s unease, Ed starts to wail loudly, giving himself hiccups into the bargain. A fresh cacophony begins in his veins with one overarching sentence running louder than the rest.

You’re a terrible excuse for a father and your son hates you.

It isn’t one isn’t even one of the souls saying that, that’s just him. 

“Trisha…”

“Ignore them,” she says. “You’ve got this. I trust you.”

“I don’t trust myself. Please, Trisha.”

“Ok.” She takes Edward back and he quietens almost immediately. The souls start to calm down a little, and Hohenheim desperately tries to block them all out and focus on the here and now. It doesn’t work, and he closes his eyes, running a hand through his hair. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You’ll be ok.”

Hohenheim wishes he shared her confidence. 

X

“I think Edward hates me.”

“Hohenheim, don’t be ridiculous. He’s a month old, he doesn’t understand the concept of hate.”

“Then explain why he screams when I hold him and stops screaming as soon as I give him back to Trisha.”

“Because he can tell you’re scared.” Pinako gives him a shrewd look over the top of her teacup. They’re sitting in her workroom, Hohenheim desperate for a second opinion from someone who isn’t in the back of his head trying to give him well-meant but completely unhelpful advice, because he thinks that Trisha’s belief in him, whilst touching, is also misplaced. Pinako, now a grandmother, will hopefully provide some advice.

“You’re so tense when you hold him,” she points out. 

“Trisha says the same thing.”

“Well, he’ll pick up on that. If you’re constantly scared that you’re going to drop him then he’s going to be scared you’ll drop him as well. Of course he’ll be more comfortable in Trisha’s arms. She knows she won’t drop him, so her hold on him is more secure, so he feels safer. Hohenheim, I know that this probably isn’t the solution you wanted to hear but you just have to get used to holding him until you can relax enough not to be scared of him. Come on. No time like the present.” 

She gets up and marches towards the door. Hohenheim gives a yelp of alarm. 

“Don’t Yuriy and Sarah need you here?”

“Doesn’t your wife need you at home?”

Good point, well made. He follows her out of the house and down the lane towards his own home. 

“Pinako, he’s probably asleep, he won’t like me any more for waking him up…”

Pinako just glares at him. “Hohenheim, do us all a favour and stop thinking for five minutes.”

They reach home and Trisha opens the door, a bit confused. 

“I wasn’t expecting you back for another hour. Hello, Pinako, it’s good to see you. How are Sarah and Winry?”

“Sarah’s doing well, and Winry’s an angel; she’s the easiest baby I’ve ever known.” She sighs and bats Hohenheim’s arm. “As you can see, I have brought this overthinking idiot back. Where’s Edward?”

“He’s in his basket in the living room. You’re just in time, he just woke up.”

“Perfect.” Pinako shoves Hohenheim into the house. 

“Pinako, what’s going on?”

Hohenheim leaves Pinako to explain his latest mental crisis and goes into the living room, sitting on the floor beside the basket. Edward stares at him with those intensely gold eyes.

“Hey, Edward. I’m sorry I’m not as good at this as your Mommy. You’re just so small and breakable, and I’m not.” 

He touches the tiny flailing hand and Edward’s fist closes around his finger, his eyes never leaving Hohenheim’s, showing no signs of bursting into tears.

 Hohenheim smiles. It’s a start. 

After a couple of minutes, Edward smiles back. It’s the first time that Hohenheim has seen him smile properly, even when Trisha’s holding him.

Maybe Edward doesn’t hate him after all.