#i will bring will drag my sorrow with them

[sodastarpop]

I AM SAD AND IM GOING TO MAKE IT MY BLORBOS WHOLE PROBLEM

#im too nervous the put the kiby tag #... #its basically #vent art #but with the kirb #i will bring will drag my sorrow with them

[stxrvel]

the cliff (1)

hi guys! this is the first azriel fic i post here. i mainly do marvel but i just couln't stop thinking about this so i decided to take it forward. i hope you guys like this! see u next time <;33

summary: you never thought that the road to your mate could bring so much suffering… pairing: azriel x f!reader words: +4k warnings: briefly descriptions of torture, bad words, descriptions of sorrow¿?, angst but a happy ending, i think. also, English is not my first language and i actually read acotar in another language, so sorry for any mistakes! and also!! i haven't read a court of silver flames, so probably the facts around cassian and nesta's bond and feyre's pregnancy aren't accurate, sorry for that!

part 2: the house

part 3: the court

part 4: the routine

You were sure that the decisions you had made shouldn't have led you to that place. With your limp legs dragging against the grass, the wet feel of the mud drying coldly on your skin with each gale, increasing the chills that ran through your body, not only because of the dread and fear you had for your life, but because of the scorching frost on the top of that cliff.

There was something magical about wishing upon a shooting star. You knew it, your parents were living proof that it worked. They had met just after your mother had wished upon a dying star. Mates. And they promised you it would be the same for you. You hoped it would be the same for you when, encouraged by your same parents, you wandered Prythian in search of meeting the other end of the bond that you knew connected you to someone beyond, in search of a connection greater than you could ever understand.

You firmly believed in that magic one night, in the midst of the lonely and almost desolate journey from end to end, when lying watching the night sky you saw it pass by. A helpless shooting star.

You made your wish with your heart in your hand, closing your eyes and whispering as if it were a prayer. Maybe it was. You didn't know if that was what had gone wrong.

All you knew was that, the next day, your journey was over.

You hadn't finished waking up when you found yourself being dragged across the ground of the Day Court, right at the border it shared with the Night Court, from the hands of Ilyrian soldiers who wouldn't listen to your shouted words. Or simply preferred to ignore them.

You weren't sure how much you had screamed at them, even as they took you in the most savage way possible and furrowed you through the wind, the cold gusts of the Nightmare Court piercing your skin. But it had to have been a good while, because the next time you were above ground your throat was so dry you could barely breathe.

You didn't know what was going on, not even when days later, after feeding yourself with only mush and water, you met the first person willing to tell you something and not turn his face away from you. It was a man, Ilyrian too, with gigantic black wings that covered almost all the light in the small room where you were held captive. His constant presence invoked darkness.

He never introduced himself. He would only ask “who sent you?”, waiting for a sane answer from you, one that you couldn't give because every time you tried to say something that was not remotely like what he wanted to hear, he would move two fingers of his left hand and two more soldiers would enter the room and grab you roughly by the arms, pulling you closer to a barrel with water that was in the corner of the room. That was the water you usually drank, and it was never as cold as when they entered the room.

Needless to say, after a couple of days, you couldn't even go near the water anymore.

It could've been a couple of days, weeks or months… you weren't sure anymore. Time had become an insignificant concept compared to your desire for freedom. You had explained countless times to the Ilyrian the reasons why they had found you wandering near the Court, but that wasn't enough. Not even when you told him that they could confirm it with your family in the Summer Court. No excuse was good enough, the Ilyrian seemed to simply want to find a culprit, whatever he had to do, whoever he had to point the finger at.

And then, one day, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope. Another lone shooting star, which you barely caught through the bars the room had for windows. The memory of your parents flooded your memory, a dark cloud settling over you and drowning out any sense of calm you were able to collect after the ilyrians left. Through tears and sobs you begged the star for a way out, hoping its magic was powerful enough to fight the savage soldiers.

The next day more ilyrians than usual appeared, but they did not enter the room. Not after the High Lord of the Night Court did so first.

And you thought the star had heard you.

“She didn't say anything?”

His dismissive, indifferent tone almost made you shudder on the icy floor, but you didn't let that take away your hope, kneeling in front of him with dried tears and dirt on your face. With your hands clasped in front of you, as if he were a deity personified, you begged him to listen to you, but you had to watch him send you a disinterested glance before he turned in the direction of the entrance.

“Take her away.”

You didn't know why you had expected the high lord to intercede on your behalf, knowing the stories that brimmed through the Courts in Prythian. Your parents had warned you. They encouraged you to pursue the bond on your chest, but begged you to go no further than Court Day if the bond demanded it. They made you promise to return, and that they would then seek a way to find your mate if he or she was beyond the Night Court. You should've heeded, of course you did. When you saw the cold, emotionless eyes of the high lord's face, you regretted every decision you had made.

Even though you knew it shouldn't have been that way, because you had never done anything wrong. You had never tried to harm someone. Maybe that made it harder. Wondering every night why. Why did you deserve to go through that? What evil was it that you were paying for?

There was something magical about wishing on a shooting star, but that magic wasn't guarded for you.

-

Azriel had been spending sleepless nights for weeks now, without explanation. Things were quiet in Velaris, even in the Court of Nightmares. But when he entered the darkness of his room at night, when he tried to close his eyes with his wings spread across the bed, a knot stirred in his chest. Tears would well up behind his eyes and a sadness would engulf him from head to toe. It was so overwhelming that there were few nights when Azriel could contain the feelings and despair of his shadows.

He tried not to let that deficiency interrupt his work, but it was difficult when his eyes would close at the table during breakfast, or in the middle of the room when Rhys talked about the weekly goals. Several times his friends would start asking questions, but it was easy for Azriel to say he had trouble sleeping because that was never an uncommon occurrence over the course of his long life.

It was once Rhys told him that he had told Madja about his problem and she had sent him some herbs that it all started to get weirder.

Yes, Azriel was able to fall asleep. But every night he had strange dreams. Dreams of a life that was not his own. Memories of someone else he didn't even know. Another woman's life, somewhere Azriel could barely remember when he woke up, with more people who must have been close to her, but not to him, who shared her day to day life, who celebrated together with her, who were happy. Azriel didn't wake up much better in the mornings than when he spent the whole night without sleep.

Now he not only had to deal with the heaviness of lack of sleep, but with the questions. He could never think they were random dreams because he heard the same laughter every time, the same voice, the same place. He felt the same tranquility before waking up.

Azriel believed Madja would be his source of answers then.

“Your mate is looking for you,” the old woman answered him, one sunny day in Velaris when he chased her through her tent hoping she would answer his one question. That stopped him abruptly on his feet, his body from the abdomen upward leaning forward a bit from the suddenness of the movement.

“Mate?”

Madja barely hissed in response, a sound of affirmation that would haunt Azriel for several days afterward.

“How is that possible?”

“What?”

Madja was turning her back to him, her small body hunched over as she inspected the medicinal plants she kept for sale. Azriel watched them along with her, his mind moving through the threads of thoughts, between every memory of his dreams and every memory…of her.

“How can she do that?”

Azriel heard Madja sigh and the sound of metal followed as she dropped the gray watering can she had kept for years into place. Azriel could still remember the first time it had been seen, shiny and pompous in the Velaris sunlight. Madja's brown eyes roamed over his face and Azriel hadn't felt this way since the time when Rhys's mom had looked at him with loving motherly eyes.

“Don't ask me how the bond works, Shadowsinger. The Cauldron knows how it does things.”

Azriel could sleep less after that. Madja had left him with more questions than answers. And, on that note, Azriel began to fly over Velaris more often. For some reason, he felt she was close. The bond hadn't snapped into place yet, but he knew that the time was near when that would happen. He didn't even know if it had snapped for her yet, all he knew was that he had a mate over there, too far away from him, and too scared for him to stand idly by.

Eventually, Azriel had to talk to Rhysand. Rhys, his high lord, his best friend, his brother. Probably the only person in the Inner Circle who could fully understand how he felt at those moments. Because Azriel felt he was going to lose his mind if he didn't find his mate and end whatever suffering she was going through. The uncertainty was eating him alive and the hours of hopelessness and fear that were going on inside him, around that emptiness in his chest, did not ease things at all. If he felt this way from the comfort of his home, he didn't want to imagine what she was going through.

Rhysand agreed to allow him more outings to enlarge the perimeter of his search, but the passing days proved his effort fruitless.

“Everything okay, brother?”

Cassian had met his mate. Nesta, Feyre's sister. Azriel was very happy for him, very happy that his brothers had found their life mates and that he could realize the good they brought into their lives. But there was a huge shadow that haunted him, beyond the darkness he carried with him, and it had much to do with the guilt of not being able to find and deliver his mate from suffering. He no longer knew how much time had passed. His shadows stirred restlessly every day, with every memory, with every gale.

Azriel sighed when he felt Cassian's hand on his left shoulder, as they both stood watching Velaris from the top of a mountain.

“I don't know what to do anymore, Cassian,” Azriel let out, his shoulders slumping under the pressure and stress.

He usually didn't talk about the subject of his mate with his brothers, not as often as someone would think to be so close. It was something Azriel held close to his heart and wanted to resolve on his own, but so many failures were beginning to weigh him down.

Cassian patted his shoulder and then gave it a squeeze, trying to silently comfort him, though he knew that would do little to soothe the clamor in his soul. Because, though the bond hadn't snapped for Azriel, he could well believe that he had had it tugging at his chest in an unfamiliar direction for months now. Even if he didn't feel the bond, the mere acknowledgement of its existence was agony, especially when it didn't help him find his mate.

Cassian sighed beside him, letting a few seconds pass in silence before speaking again, his gaze fixed on Velaris' expanse and his heart shrinking at the visible suffering on his brother's face.

“Rhysand is traveling to the camp, will you accompany us?”

Azriel lately had little desire for anything other than touring Velaris and the surrounding area of the Court of Nightmares looking for his mate, but this time he decided to accept. For some reason, Azriel decided to accompany them.

The Night had been feuding with the Summer for a couple of years. Tarquin and Rhysand… were not on the best of terms. The last time Feyre had traveled to the Summer, pregnant with Nyx, Tarquin and his army had held her captive because of a misunderstanding in the information they had obtained from the Spring Court and the Mortal Lands. Rhysand almost destroyed the entire Summer Court with his bare hands if not for Cassian and Azriel, who were able to broker a deal between the two as mediators. It was a very tense time at the beginning.

Mind you, Rhysand did not leave without letting Tarquin know that it would be years before they would return to the same trade, diplomatic and friendly relations as before, if they could ever speak of forgiveness. Azriel remembered how the only person from the Night Court who could cross Tarquin's lands, for a time, was Mor. They were all warned and the meetings of the high lords were suspended, at least with respect to attendance.

For that reason, Rhysand became extremely wary of anyone connected with the Summer Court and for him, being the high lord, it was not too much work to know who wandered near his lands. They had already captured a handful of Summer Court spies in recent years and held them captive in camp with the Ilyrian soldiers.

Of course, the Night Court was much more careful with their spying, having Shadowsinger himself on their side. Azriel had visited the Summer Court a couple of times by stealth, handing Rhysand reports and any strategic breakthroughs he could decipher.

There was one, however, that they could not foresee. Someone Azriel never knew was coming out of the Summer Court. It had been a couple of years since then and it seemed the Ilyrians had been unable to break the spy's stone will.

“Are you going all the way to the mountain?” Rhysand had stopped in front of Azriel as soon as his feet touched the grassy ground, a few feet from the entrance to the camp. His eyes flicked briefly to the bustle behind his high lord, his shoulders tensing unconsciously as he took slow steps towards Rhysand with his hands in the pockets of his tunic and his wings tucked neatly behind his back. Cassian landed behind him, kicking up a layer of wet grass and mud that soiled his boots.

“Argh.”

“I think I'll be at a distance this time.”

Rhysand nodded, with no intention of convincing Azriel to accompany him to give the imprisoned spies of the Summer a death scare.

“I hope the screams are worth this mudslinging,” Cassian spoke up, moving closer to his two friends, forming a small circle. Rhysand barely gave him a glance before turning on his heels and beginning to make his way to the entrance of the camp, where some of the soldiers were clustered to see the high lord. “You're going to be in the bay?”

“Yes,” Azriel walked alongside Cassian, scowling at the entrance through which Rhysand had just crossed, the Ilyrian soldiers freezing in front of their high lord. “I'll watch from afar. Right now I don't have the stomach for anything.”

“I understand, brother,” Cassian squeezed his shoulder again amicably, sending him a tight-lipped look. Cassian was quite good with words, despite many labeling him as insensitive for being Ilyrian, but he knew Azriel well enough to know when he wanted to talk about something and when he preferred not to. “See you then.”

Cassian followed in Rhysand's footsteps, approaching in long strides, while Azriel paused watching his companions disappear into the distance.

Sighing, the knot in his chest tightened. It was so strange to have a void that could feel so many things. Azriel often wondered how it was possible that he still didn't feel the bond, when his emotions had expanded out of his head and there was no longer a feeling he didn't sense inside his bones.

Flapping his wings to take flight, Azriel set off towards the bay, close to the cliff where Rhysand planned to take the Summer Court spies. He was a few yards away, close enough to make out figures, but not too far away that he couldn't hear the screams.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, damp despite the early rising sun, his shadows began to stir around him, restless. They must've sensed his nervousness, the anxiety that ran through his chest like electric currents to his fingertips, causing him to spasm and break out in a cold sweat. Azriel could barely see them moving around him, separating from his body and stirring on the ground just a few centimeters before turning back.

At the top of the cliff he could already make out the figures of Rhysand and Cassian, walking menacingly towards the inmates, leaving them no choice but to keep walking backwards until they fell into the void, where Cassian would then land them, one by one. Azriel could hear them if he wanted to, but his mind and his shadows kept him a bit distracted.

He barely made out the first screams and the sound of Cassian's wings when his shadows began to whisper, much more restless.

Close.

Close.

Help.

Fear.

Help.

Azriel raised his head and his eyes stopped just short of Rhysand's figure in front of about three spies. At that moment, Azriel's shadows took off, moving at great speed across the grass and stones, with the Shadowsinger unable to do anything to stop them, though he tried. His confused gaze swept over the small figures on the cliff, with such speed that his head was beginning to ache, but he couldn't recognize anything.

He was about to fly in the direction his shadows had gone, when a strange, overwhelming sensation, somewhere between irrational fear and deep sadness, sent his back to the ground moving across his chest, as one of the figures slipped and fell into the void. Azriel felt all the air stolen from his lungs, opening his mouth to try to catch his breath, as those sensations coursed through his entire body and settled in his chest, taking strong root as if they belonged there. They were so overwhelming that they caused him physical pain. The ache he must've been feeling for months.

The bond.

The few remaining shadows beside him whispered endlessly.

Help.

Help.

Help.

Azriel raised his head, breathing hard. He felt his chest split open, as if with great force they were breaking his sternum to pull out his heart. It was such an overwhelming and painful sensation that, but for his strong will, he would surely have lost consciousness.

Help.

Help.

Mate.

Mate.

Azriel thought afterwards that he had never moved so fast or with such force as that moment, when he realized what was happening. The adrenaline that coursed through his body, even feeling electric currents run through him from head to toe from the precise moment he felt the bond, didn't allow him to think too much about how the air hurt his eyes because he already knew exactly where he had to go. He had spent so much time flying without direction, walking the wrong paths and searching in empty places. At that moment, when he had a reason and a direction, Azriel couldn't think of anything else. He didn't want to.

He could only look at the figure falling off the cliff from the moment he raised his head. He could only head blindly towards it. The overwhelming fear that threw him backwards was the fear she felt as under her feet she felt the void, her hands moving forward trying to hold on to something that would allow her to live.

Azriel felt like he was about to die with her.

He met Cassian halfway from afar, who seemed to be about to fly in her direction to catch her when he ran into his friend, but Azriel moved too quickly and with anticipation without losing sight of his mate. The chill that ran through his body could've paralyzed him with fear, but how could he stand by and do nothing when his mate was falling to her undisputed death.

He thought he heard Rhysand's scream. Surely it was so, but in his mind there hovered only the thought that he must reach her, he must get there in time. Her hands were outstretched and Azriel stretched out his hands, hoping that would help him move faster.

Mind blank, Azriel felt like he had just pulled his head out of the water, his chest opening in an unfamiliar thrill as his body felt the warmth of his mate's body crashing against him and his arms wrapped around her in a promise to never let go again. His wings wrapped around her immediately after his arms, impacting a few seconds later against the muddy ground.

He was too close to not catch her. The thought left him breathless.

For a moment, he only heard his and her labored breathing, with the whistling of the wind through the trees and the movement of the water of a stream a few feet away. For a moment, Azriel went completely blank. Whether he was there or dreaming, he didn't know.

His hands clamped tightly around her arms, encircling her entire back, feeling the reality of what had happened sink in on him bit by bit. Fear gripped him once more then, considering that there was a chance he hadn't been there to stop that. To prevent it.

He didn't want to move. Still adrenaline coursed through his body and he was so alert that he could clearly hear the voices of his friends in the distance. Seconds later, when he heard their wings, he finally moved.

Azriel met your eyes and with that look alone he knew you had felt the bond as well.

“I'm sorry,” was all Azriel could think of, his eyes crystallizing, voice breaking. “I'm so sorry.”

You were transfixed. Azriel felt you looking at him with fear and that motivated him to move away from your body, but you gripped his arms tightly to hold him in place.

Azriel felt a great heaviness in his chest as he examined your face and what he saw did not please him at all. Guilt swelled on his shoulders, a great weight that ascended with each passing second and he could hardly imagine all that you had had to go through in that camp. You were right under his nose and he couldn't find you. What kind of a partner was he to let all that happen?

When he heard the footsteps of his friends, his shoulders tensed. But it didn't go unnoticed the way you also became aware of their presence and let go of his arms, rushing to hug yourself as you moved to sit behind Azriel. scared. Still breathing rapidly, Azriel sent a warning look. Cassian and Rhysand stopped a short distance away, noticing the obvious hostility emanating from their friend's body, but Rhysand just stopped for a second.

“Azriel, what the fuck?”

Rhysand was so angry that he seemed to have a little red tinge over his face. Good, he was angry, maybe then Azriel wouldn't feel so bad about breaking his face.

“Rhys,” Cassian frowned, quickly picking up on the tense and hostile atmosphere around him. He grabbed the arm of his high lord, who jerked angrily and turned his gaze back to the Shadowsinger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you aware of what you just fucking did?”

“Rhysand,” Cassian stopped his high lord, raising his voice and holding his arm tightly this time.

Rhysand turned to look at him with a frown and it seemed that, through his mind, Cassian spoke to him. The next time Rhysand looked back at him, his expression was unclenching, but Azriel stood stone-faced in front of you, his hands clasped at his sides and ready to face anything.

“No way,” was all Rhysand muttered, moving to run his hands through his hair.

Azriel felt one of your hands on his back, his senses splitting in half to try and attend to you as he kept an eye on his brothers on the other side. He moved his head to look at you, your frightened expression trying to hide you from Cassian's curious eyes.

“Is this real?”

Azriel felt his heart crumple. Tears welled behind his eyes and burning hurted the back of his throat. He wanted to say so many things, apologize for a million other things, but in that moment he only responded, moving to squeeze your hand:

“It's real.”

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel x you #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #rhysand #cassian #the cliff

[luxesiren]

hantengu drabble

(✧) warnings; smut, pussy eating, pussy drunk!pleasure, hate sex, degradation, soft sex, fingering, teasing, and overstimulation (mention)

(✧) author’s note; hi! enjoy this little drabble i wrote up to tease my other girlies on discord😋

pussydrunk!pleasure

- thinking about pussy drunk pleasure, they would get drunk from the taste of you and i mean, drunk, their eyes rolling in the back of their head and just sloppily eating your cunt until you cum. even when you’ve cum, they won’t stop, they’ll keep sucking at your clit and their tongue would curl and lick up your slick and cum making you moan and cry for more but also try to push them away from the overstimulation but they wouldn’t allow that. hands gripping tightly on your thighs as they bring you to another orgasm, eyes closed this time nothing but the sounds of your cries on repeat in their ears.

hate sex w/ anger

- they’re mad at you. it doesn’t matter what you did, you could’ve simply breathed around them but that was enough to send them spiraling. your back arched and fingers ripping into the sheets as they roughly take you, your cunt clenching and clamping down on their dick and nothing but hateful words coming from the both of you. “fuck, i hate you.”

“yeah? for someone who hates me you seem to be enjoying yourself, fucking yourself on my dick like a slut” the degrading words said with such spite and venom. it didn’t matter how much you hated each other, you would still be in this same position tomorrow and the next day and the next day…

soft sex w/ sorrow

- your fingers laced together as they thrust into softly, slowly, almost as if they were teasing you. your legs hooked around their waist and pulling them impossibly closer, nails scratching down their back as you moan quietly into their ear. it was rough day, almost losing you took a toll on them and they wanted to make sure that they would never lose you. whispers of “i love you” and “i can’t lose you” filling your ears, another moan slipping from your lips as they thrust into you, picking up the pace before slowing down and rolling their hips, just the way you like, hitting that part of you that makes you tremble and cum.

teasing w/ joy

- now they love to tease, they love playing around and they get a kick out of how angry you get when you don’t get what you want. their fingers curling inside of you, dragging against your walls and making you bite down on your lip. you beg them to make you cum and all they can do is laugh, “promising” to make you cum with their fingers only to pull them out and stop for a second letting the high of almost cumming die down before pushing their fingers back into your pussy and moving them faster, your back arching and your hand grabbing onto their wrist as they laugh again, pulling their fingers out yet again. they do this over and over before you finally get to cum and they look at you and ask, “wasn’t that fun?”

© 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | do not copy, steal, or repost on wattpad or ao3. reblogs and comments are appreciated.

#❝𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴❞ #hantengu #drabble #hantengu smut #hantengu clones #hantengu anger #hantengu sorrow #hantengu joy #hantengu pleasure #demon slayer #demon slayer smut

[lets-try-some-writing]

Got Angst for Prime.

AU: Whatever AU you want to use.

Concept: Ratchet's Optics never really recovered from his Synth-En incident. He sees everything in a tint of green. And his optics show it. So, every time OP looks Ratchet in the optics, he sees the blue with a tinge of green surrounding it, and he gets hit with how bad he failed Ratchet.

(I've pretty much always HC that Ratchet had some lasting aftereffects of his tests. This one's my favorite though.)

I can't help it.

I am going to make this shippy.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Optimus had always loved Ratchet's optics. If you asked him, he would deny the way he often found himself staring wistfully off in the doctor's direction. It was all professional concern for a mech who simply didn't know when he needed to rest and recover. If he shared a glance with Ratchet for a little longer than normal, it was simply because he cared. That was what he told others. Whether or not they believe him was up for debate.

But beneath that veil of half truths created for both his and Ratchet's safety, Optimus's affections ran deep.

Even before the war, he'd loved those optics. Ratchet's optics were aged even when Orion was young. And yet they held a life to them that was undeniable. Passion incapable of being smothered by the harsh words of others and the seemingly impossible trial that was going up a caste. Ratchet bore every burden and political scheme with blunt determination, his optics always shining brightly as a hint of a smirk played on his features. Optimus loved that mischievous grin and the telltale glint that Ratchet got in his optics when he had some wild plan cooked up. Even though he was unable to bring himself to utter the compliments that formed in the back of his mind, he loved the Doctor's optics more than he cared to admit. So much energy contained within a compact frame. It was beautiful in its own unique way.

Once the war began and Orion Pax became Optimus Prime, he did not think about Ratchet's optics as much. At least until they began to lose the shine that he had been so familiar with in his youth.

War was uncaring and it held no love for those trapped within its web. Optimus endured it with the patience of the old gods of Cybertron long since left to rot. Whispers of ancient beings far beyond his comprehension clouded his sense of time. Tears he wept for the fallen turned his gaze away from those around him and instead to the rivers of energon that flowed around his pedes. He endured it as the last of a long line of divines given frame. But Ratchet was mortal, and as the war dragged on, those optics that Optimus adored grew darker. Passion changed to red hot fury so bright and dangerous that Ratchet's gaze felt almost like venom at times.

Stokes of fire leapt through Ratchet's blazing optics, and more than once Optimus feared he'd be scorched by that boiling inferno of loss and grief. And yet despite being the one to lead their war ever onward, Optimus never felt Ratchet's anger directed at him. When those optics gazed up at him, Optimus felt only age old affection and care. Fire was tamed and turned to comforting warmth. Steady servos ran along his arms and a soothing voice lulled Optimus into temporary serenity on long cycles where he simply had no more tears to shed or reason to give to their Primus forsaken war. All the while those optics met his own and Optimus was at peace.

Vorns passed by. Optimus continued in his eternal march toward victory and Ratchet continued to change. Rage turned into bitterness, the molten hot wrath of war transforming into a deep set sorrow that left creases in the living metal that surrounded Ratchet's optics. Grim darkness pooled in that once passionate gaze. Those optics flickered in wrath long fostered each time Megatron made himself known. Those optics flared with every injury that the team brought with them back to base once they arrived on Earth. Those optics that Optimus loved so dearly dimmed and quieted, their light softening in the dark of the medical bay on long nights when Ratchet thought no one would hear his quiet sobs.

Optimus always loved Ratchet's optics.

He should have treated him better.

"Does it still hurt?" Optimus asked as he ran his digits over the weld on Ratchet's side.

"Of course it does. The weld has only been in place for a month and the wound ran deep." Ratchet replied clinically, not looking up from his work even as Optimus risked wrapped his arms around the doctor's waist. Others could see, but in the moment, he didn't care.

"I'm sorry." He murmured into the crook of Ratchet's neck as he leaned down, desperate to feel the comforting warmth of Ratchet's frame against his. The Doctor stilled, his field extending and wrapping around Optimus is concern.

"Optimus, please, we've talked about this. I was out of line in saying that. You are not at fault." Ratchet broke from Optimus's embrace and turned around. Optimus wanted to look away in shame as those optics looked up at him, still as lovely as ever, but tinted a haunting green.

A sign of Optimus's greatest failure.

"I am at fault, and you know that as well as I do. Let us not delude ourselves." Optimus reached out to cup Ratchet's face. The Doctor leaned into his touch obligingly. Any open affection was a risk, but there was something unspoken that needed to be addressed before time ran out and the world drew them apart yet again.

"You have always done what you think is right. I can't blame you for hoping and trying to save a mech who was once a friend." Ratchet's optics cycled and the green became more prominent within them in response to his emotions. Optimus frowned and shifted so caress the metal around the Doctors optics. His scarred digits traced creases and small scuffs, lingering around the corners of Ratchet's optics as Optimus observed the green hue in sorrow.

"You shouldn't have felt pressured to do this to yourself. The risks were too great. If I had only-" A digit pressed to Optimus's derma before he could continue, silencing his attempts at being self deprecating before they could truly begin.

"I made my choice. It is not your fault. Besides, the world is just a little more green for me now. That is all." Ratchet forced a smile, but Optimus could not bring himself to do the same. Ratchet's words while he was on synthetic energon were cruel... but undeniably true. How many times had Optimus had the chance to bring down Megatron only to let the warlord go? How many lives could he have saved if he had only put aside his feelings on the matter and acted?

"I can tell you are beating yourself up over it. Stop. It's over now and I'm fine." Ratchet pulled away and Optimus's servos fell. They stood quietly together for a nanoklik before Ratchet moved forward, his smaller frame pressing against Optimus's in a gentle embrace. Strong arms hooked themselves around the crooks of Optimus's torso, unwavering but gentle enough that if he wished, the Prime could pull away.

"Forgive me." Optimus murmured in the quiet of the medical bay. A gentle hum met his plea. Neither said another word as they stood in the relative dark, comforted in the presence of one another. Only the light of the nearby console lit up the area, but it was more than enough for the Prime to work with.

Green tinted optics glowed in the gloom, illuminating Optimus's face as he leaned down. Ratchet's optics closed, most likely expecting a gentle touch to the crest of his helm. Instead, Optimus leaned as close as he was able, even going so far as to angle his helm so that he could get near enough to place a ghost of a kiss over Ratchet's optics. Each closed optic received the lightest of touches, so soft that it may as well have been a gust of wind. But as Optimus pulled back and settled into the helm touch that Ratchet had likely been prepared for, the Prime finally smiled.

"Thank you for standing by my side." Ratchet stared in shock as the Prime's digits again found their place tracing around the Doctor's optics. Ratchet stood still, uncertain of how to respond until Optimus spoke again.

"I've always loved your optics, regardless of their hue." Optimus assured, earning a gentle huff from his companion.

"You sap." Ratchet whispered even as his optics glowed in all too rare joy at the show of affection. The green was still present, a permanent reminder of the costs of war. However Optimus continued to smile all the same, simply pleased to have those optics locked on him.

Yes, Optimus would admit it aloud if times permitted.

He had always loved Ratchet's optics.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #ratchet #optiratch #transformers fanfiction #fanfiction #slight angst #finally a chance to write something angsty fluffy #I do love me these two old bots

[highdio]

Pleeease, write your thoughts about the musical lol. I really like your Dio meta posts <3

Just a disclaimer: this is really opinionated but I don't like to drag media for its own sake. There were lots of things to like in the Phantom Blood musical, just ... Dio wasn't one of them. Also, Mamoru Miyano threw himself into the performance he was asked for, so it's hardly his fault. It's just always amazing to me that people feel the need to rewrite Dio into someone else when the way Araki's written him is already perfect, complete and a lot of fun.

So, where to start? Basically, the Phantom Blood musical re-writes Dio, giving him a different personality and different motivations through OOC stage direction along with a bunch of original dialog and scenes. What results is a version of Phantom Blood where "Dio" is just a normal guy without charisma who had a bad childhood and spends most of the story being miserable. Dio as he's written in canon has an uncommon charisma and appeal that's allowed him to remain relevant as one of those 'all-time great' villains. Scene after scene in the musical prove that its creative team either didn't read the manga or just really didn't like Dio.

fwiw Araki wrote Dio as thoroughly fleshed-out, with consistent traits and behaviors and consistent motivations behind his actions. He also left a paper trail of interviews and author's commentaries that develop Dio even more fully beyond the manga. So there's really no excuse for media that treat Dio as some sort of empty vessel waiting to be filled by narrative cliches we already know and expect.

It's annoying too, because, along with its OOC content, the musical is peppered with occasional manga-consistent moments. It's like the musical is camouflaging its Very Bad Take on Dio by having Mamoru Miyano periodically re-enact the canon character's most famous panels. The musical wants simultaneously to take credit for bringing Araki's vision to life on the stage, while at the same time completely undermining its most important element: a capital V "Villain" who, according to Araki, "accepts and embraces his evil nature, and follows his dark path without hesitation." This is the biggest change the musical makes to Dio: musical!Dio has none of the confidence that allows canon Dio him to move so decisively and destructively through the narrative.

Musical Dio is introduced by a scene where he's bullied on his way home, before breaking into a song about how terrible his life is, where "everything is always taken from [him]" ("it's hell …I feel nauseated …[I'm] under a cloudy sky.") The song is alternately tearful and hopeful. "I'm going crazy from being robbed!" he laments and then pollyannaishly muses, "hey, Joestar, can you turn my [cloudy] skies to blue?"

If Dio being introduced as a sad sap and self-described perennial loser hoping for any break sounds attitudinally unfamiliar that's because it is. Araki went in the opposite direction: he started his story by subverting the cliche - wide-eyed poor boy victimized by circumstance leaves his sorrow-filled life hoping for a new start - and instead gave us a kid with surprising, even sinister agency. Dio is not just given a hero's upward narrative arc (something Araki crafted very deliberately), he's introduced improbably in his first scene from a position of control. This fact is important because in the manga it's a position he won't lose until four chapters and nearly 100 pages in, when Jonathan finally fights back. From the time young Dio is introduced - reading a book with his back turned to his bed-ridden father who he's secretly poisoning -

- to the time he's systematically broken down his adoptive brother's spirit by alienating him from his friends, taking Erina's first kiss, and of course kicking his dog, Dio is shown as being in control and on top (Erina drinking the muddy water is the only exception). It's OOC to imagine 12-year old Dio feeling sorry for himself because at the time he's introduced, he's already made a habit of getting what he wants. By the time he sets off for the Joestars after killing his first dad, he's already developed full confidence in his abilities and the inevitability of his rise to riches (something Araki has him explicitly state and then underscores with a panel illustration of a steam train signaling the rise of Modernity).

But the writers and director of the musical don't find this characterization interesting enough or something. So they lose the canon entirely and in its place they invent a version of Dio who's despondent. And they didn't get Araki's steam train memo so they miss the Modernity theme (even though Araki's tied Dio so tightly conceptually to the idea of the Modern that he has him "use a 20th century boxing technique in the 19th century"); instead they double down on class difference being determinative. It never occurs to them that Dio is written specifically by Araki with the freedom to move outside of his social status because he sees it as artificial (the "evil elite" monologue later reveals Dio thinks of the whole social contract thing is arbitrary and voluntary).

Throughout the musical, Dio (although it's not fair to Mamoru Miyano since he isn't responsible for writing this mess, let's use mamoDio from now on because it's easier) seems to idolize the Joestars for what he calls their "beautiful blood." Not "beautiful" because usable calories for the vampire he will become but "beautiful" because noble. The Joestars' noble status and the honor that's apparently behind that status become the shining "star" toward which mud-bound mamoDio flailingly, failingly reaches. I don't need to tell you that in canon Dio doesn't have respect for nobility.

"Mud and stars" is heavy-handedly introduced as a dominant theme of the musical. According to the play, Jonathan, noble and bright, looks to the stars while human Dio, pathetic, conflicted and even confused, can only see life as a mud-soaked prison.

Now, the mud and stars thing was only used in Part 1 as a single text element on a Volume 1 illustration but, in spite of its marginality, it's becomes a liturgical text for some fans looking for an explanation for Dio's actions beyond what Araki gives them in the actual narrative. To this sort of fan, a guy who embraces his inner talent for evil and never had the misfortune of developing a moral compass isn't the right type of villain because he's unapologetic. If the villain doesn't have excuses how can you apologize for him? So they need Dio and by extension Araki to give them a "good enough" reason to accept Dio's ever-escalating atrocities. If the reasons Dio has for doing the things he does lie outside of what's considered good or acceptable, they are simply rejected and new reasons are invented in the hope of making Dio much less objectionable.

Now, like I said earlier, Araki's repeatedly told us in his writings that Dio has an upward narrative trajectory, not a downward, "mud"-bound one. The mud and stars duality fails to describe the narrative journey of the two main characters: both look upward to transcend their circumstances and travel along a shonen manga hero's rising path. (In fact, it's Jonathan who needs a good push to realize his potential, something Dio happily provides). And it's Jonathan, not Dio, who Araki first gives a downward arc, being handed defeat after defeat for those first four chapters before gaining his footing and progressively rising to Dio's challenges. "Mud and stars" isn't just a bad choice of metaphor, it's a misleading one.

Back to the musical, mamoDio is the exact opposite. An air of sadness and insecurity haunts his performance. An original scene where George presents the mud and stars dilemma as a lesson highlights Dio's lack of confidence and the depression that lurks behind it, as Dio bemoans how people doomed to "struggle and die" cannot possibly summon the hope it takes to look up to the stars (he's talking of course about himself).

Likewise, and here's where mamoDio's failure as a character really comes into full relief, seven years after this, when Dio's machinations are revealed and he's about to be arrested, before he uses the stone mask, mamoDio drops to the floor and spends the better part of a musical number in tears, bemoaning his sorry life ("I'm trapped in a prison covered in mud… no matter how hard I struggle I'm crushed…") and his lack of noble blood.

(btw this is after the manga scene where Dio fake cries; here, mamoDio is genuinely distraught).

Contrast this to the actual scene in the manga. His expressions in these panels are memorable because of how assured Araki draws him. Dio's entire world - his poisoning scheme, his grab at what one can assume would have been the entirety of the Joestar estate - is about to end but instead of despairing, he launches into a philosophical soliloquy. His body language is haughty: this isn't mamoDio crawling on the ground and decrying his upbringing and lack of noble blood, instead this is a man who apparently, almost irrationally, perceives himself as noble. When he uses the mask, Dio is smiling widely. Metaphorically speaking, he's looking at the stars.

When mamoDio uses the mask? He's on his knees. He's in tears. On one night he interjects, "Mother…" In short, he's conflicted.

One of these depicts Dio. The other does not.

Now obviously the writers and director of the musical must think making these seismic changes adds something to Dio's character. But (and I feel like this is a theme whenever I write these things) I'd argue it only makes him more basic. It makes him predictable and formulaic, someone we've seen in countless other stories.

(Oh! and did I mention mamoDio repeatedly calls himself "useless"!! Because he does this.)

Now, because mamoDio has no confidence and as a human acts out of desperation, when he becomes a vampire he still isn't Dio. Mamoru tries to make his vampire Dio evil and scary by expending a lot of energy, running about the stage and sticking out his tongue ad nauseum. When you look at how Araki has Dio move physically throughout the manga, it's the opposite of kinetic. Dio is a point of fixity who's charisma draws others toward him (ask me for more on this if you want because there's enough here for its own post).

Now for the worst of the worst: at the very end of the production, after the manga ending that features Jonathan's death and Dio's (presumed) defeat as a head imprisoned in Jonathan's arms, the musical takes an original twist in which, following a finale number featuring most of the cast, mamoDio is lead offstage by Jonathan. You read that right. mamoDio is hunched over, resigned, and Jonathan seems to take on a paternal role. Although the lyrics would have you believe this has something to do with "two fates becoming one," it's clear from the stage direction that any embers of Dio's ambition are being tamed and extinguished as Jonathan takes Dio's grasping hand, subdues him, and leads him docilely into the darkness.

It turns out Dio's vampire arc was just a phase, a hurt and lonely child lashing out and making a mess for attention.

His body language here is obscenely out of character. Consider the following because, as I said in the opening, in spite of what all these re-writes of Dio would have you believe, Araki crafted Dio with specificity and consistency: Araki only draws Dio (with very few exceptions) 1) standing tall, looking down at you; 2) back turned, looking back and down at you; or simply 3) back turned, (performatively?) ignoring you. Dio is never on the ground except when he's knocked down (think, young Jonathan finally fighting back in the Joestar home or, much later, Jotaro stopping time and landing those punches). By constrast, mamoDio has spent an incessant amount of time of the ground, crouching, kneeling,, bowing, hunched down. Who is this guy? So his hunched-down exit in the final moments of the production, literally being led by Jonathan (controlled??), is so amazingly stupid that if I didn't have a gif as proof, you might think I'm just making this stuff up:

There's plenty more to unpack that I won't address here: ghost Dario. The lack of grave-spitting. The complete absence of true joy or leisure expressed by Dio especially during his vampire era: no woman eating her baby, no owlcats, no Poco's sister. No chaise lounge. No roses(!). No fun. Not for Dio. That would be too manga-consistent. That might mean Araki wasn't giving us the appropriate message that bad guys are actually just sad guys.

tl;dr Dio isn't in the Phantom Blood musical. He's replaced by a normal guy who's motivated by a lack of self-esteem and despair that he wasn't born into an upper-class household, or something. He's boring. The result? There can be no Part 3 in this musical's world (and presumably no Parts 4, 5 or 6, no Giorno, no Jolyne, … you get the picture) because mamoDio just gives up. It's a nicely produced little tale about Jonathan Joestar and some random other guy who at some point gets a funny green coat.

#Anonymous #replies tag #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #dio brando #mp #dioposts #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo #phantom blood #phantom blood musical #dio talk #long post #the fact that media that's otherwise faithful to the text goes out of its way to rewrite Dio and only Dio consistently sends me

[eris-snow]

𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Tags: midoriya izuku x gn!reader,angst, breakup, swearing, ft bakugou,

It's been 4 months since your break up with Izuku, and you wish you could get over him. Lucky, you realised, if you could just erase everything from your head.

One word: Lucky.

Pretty pink ribbons and a flash of green. Rosy cheeks and laughter so sweet it chokes you.

Oh.

Your eyes lift to see Uravity greeting Deku with a smile that is brimming with such love that it makes you want to throw up. They're at it again.

The gifts and the bentos are bad enough, but the phone calls, the text messages, the team-ups.

It's everywhere like a plague with medicine; a virus with no vaccine-it's suffocating.

"Oh, Izuku," Uravity's soft voice breaks in, so innocent and perfectly surprised when Izuku brings out a bouquet of roses.

Third time this week but, hey, who's counting?

"These are lovely," She giggles, taking them and inhaling deeply. I'm not going to have enough vases for all the ones you're giving me."

"Then we should hit that florist Friday morning to get some more," Izuku replies easily, green eyes lighting up. "Your morning is free, right?"

"Sometimes I think you know my schedule better than me." Uravity teases. And oh, how vanilla it is to see the Number One flustered by his picture-perfect girlfriend.

You distinctly remember taking interview lessons when in U.A to evade paparazzi advances, but there's no training that can save Deku from being at the mercy of Uravity's words.

He bends his back over for everything with a pulse, but he bends furthest back for his girlfriend because that's who Deku is.

Lucky.

"Shortie?"

Vermillion red meets your blank stare, so you stare back. "Bakugou."

His searching eyes trace your gaze, and he pieces things together like it's elementary.

"It's been 4 months."

Since the breakup.

"You're still not over him-"

"I am."

Bakugou lets out a snort. "Yeah, real over him."

And in a flash, your fingers are grasping his collar and you're dragging his face closer to yours.

"I'm. Over. Him." You hiss.

You give him your most vacant stare, your steeliest tone. "I don't love him. I hate his face, his eyes, and his shitty, sunshine personality. His smile is the most hideous thing that I wish I could scrub from my memory and I hope I can blast my eardrums before I can hear his laughter for the nth time this week. Now for God's sake Katsuki Bakugou. Fuck off."

You hope that as you convince him, you'd gaslight yourself.

Bakugou's gaze is unwavering. No softening, no sympathy because hello, this is Katsuki Bakugou. Instead, he stares back unwaveringly, not backing down from your gaze. "Izuku misses you. He wants you back, as a friend."

Your grasp loosens on Bakugou's hero costume, and he adjusts it as he stands back at full height. "Get-together with Class A at the usual bar. Denki shot you a text, said you never replied."

You flop down on the seat of your tiny office, stationed right opposite Deku's.

You were one of the best heroes in the agency, and Deku recognised it. Fuck him, honestly.

"I'm not going." You reply.

"I'm going."

"I don't care."

"I'm knocking some fuckin' sense into you, alright, so dial back the sass." Bakugou growls. "My idiot friends care about you, so suck it up and let them care about you. It's been 4 damn months, so get a grip and move on. Stop trying to cut everything out of your life just because the nerd is there."

A twig snaps. A volcano erupts. Something happens, because your hands are numb and your laugh is bitter.

"They're your friends, Bakugou. I was just the plus-one, the lucky girlfriend, second to Deku. I'm not part of your little clique. I'm not part of your class. I was never meant to be there."

Your eyes cut through his gaze like knives, and if Katsuki looks hard enough, maybe he can see the harsh words are just a mask for your sorrow. A facade to block out the hurt and the isolation for not being the right person.

For being just another lesson, an ex, an outsider to their story.

Maybe, if he looks hard enough, he could see the pain building behind your eyes. "I'm not playing second fiddle to a guy who told me I wasn't enough. He wants to be friends? For such a thoughtful guy, he sure is dense."

Poisoned water in a desert, a peace offering of a patronising smile and victories shoved in front of your face. Haven't you suffered enough?

"Goodbye, Bakugou." You grit out, eyes ablaze. "And don't ever tell me how to run my life again."

The door slams shut, and Bakugou runs a hand through his hair. That breakup really did change you.

Because a little under 5 months ago, he still remembers the way your eyes lit up at Deku's name. The way your eyes would sparkle when you were asked about him, and you would say, honey-sweet.

"I love him. I love his face, his eyes, and his wonderful sunshine personality. His smile is the most beautiful thing in the world that I wish I could tattoo it in my memory and I hope I can keep making him happy so I can hear his laughter for the nth time this week. He's great, seriously. I'm the luckiest person in the world."

---

I was feeling toxic today. And hangry.

#mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #deku x reader #deku #mha deku #midoriya angst #bnha midoriya #midoriya izuku #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #mha angst #angst #bakugo katuski #katsuki bakugou

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Why Her and Not Me?

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader x Geto Suguru (Angst) part V

Hello my lovely readers! Here is part V! I also want to let you all know that I will be making multiple endings for this story because all of you deserve to be happy, so I will do just that🫶🏽 As for this part, I hope you all enjoy it! <333

If you want the other parts, they are in my masterlist :))))

As Toru wandered aimlessly down the quiet streets, his footsteps echoed hollowly against the pavement. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the burden of his own heartache. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, his thoughts consumed by memories of you and the pain of your absence.

With each passing moment, the weight of your absence pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket, suffusing his every breath with a sense of longing and despair. He had tried to distract himself, to bury his feelings beneath a facade of indifference, but the truth was, he couldn’t escape the emptiness that gnawed at him from within. It was as if a part of him was missing, lost in the void that had opened up between you.

Toru barely slept, barely ate, barely did anything other than wander the streets in a daze, lost in a fog of sadness and regret. He knew he should take better care of himself, that he owed it to himself to try and move on, but the thought of you lingered in his mind like a ghost, haunting him at every turn.

Every corner he turned, every street he walked, seemed to taunt him with memories of happier times, of moments shared and laughter shared. But now, those memories felt like nothing more than cruel illusions, mocking him with their fleeting sweetness.

His heart felt heavy in his chest, a leaden weight that threatened to drag him down into the depths of despair. He had never felt so lost, so adrift, as he did in that moment, with the realization of just how much he missed you crashing over him like a tidal wave.

He wanted nothing more than to see you, to hear your voice, to feel your touch, but he knew that was impossible. You were out there somewhere, living your life without him, and the thought filled him with a profound sense of loneliness and regret.

And as he trudged on through the empty streets, his aura radiated a palpable aura of sadness and longing, a silent plea for the universe to bring you back to him.

——

Toru loved you, the truth was undeniable: his heart belonged to you, and you alone. He couldn’t continue to deceive himself, couldn’t continue to pretend that everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t. And so, with a heavy heart and a sense of resignation, Toru made the final decision to end things with Osaka.

Their relationship had once been filled with laughter and joy, but now it felt like nothing more than a charade, a hollow imitation of the love and passion he felt for you. He couldn’t bear the thought of leading Osaka on any longer, couldn’t bear the guilt of knowing that he was betraying her with every passing day.

And so, one fateful afternoon, Toru found himself sitting across from Osaka, his heart heavy with sorrow as he tried to find the words to explain why he couldn’t be with her anymore. She looked at him with confusion and hurt in her eyes, her brow furrowed in disbelief as she struggled to comprehend what he was saying.

—flashback—

As Toru sat across from Osaka in the bustling cafe, his heart weighed down by the heavy burden of the truth he was about to reveal, he couldn't help but notice the sadness in her eyes. It was as if she already knew what he was going to say, as if she had seen the signs and understood the depths of his feelings long before he had even admitted them to himself.

"I'm sorry, Osaka," Toru began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I can't do this anymore. I can't continue to pretend that everything is okay when it clearly isn't. I... I have feelings for someone else, and I can't ignore them any longer."

Osaka's eyes widened in understanding, her lips trembling slightly as she fought to hold back her emotions. "Is it... is it because of her?" she asked softly, her voice barely audible over the din of the crowded cafe.

Toru nodded, his heart aching with regret. "Yes," he admitted, his voice barely more than a choked whisper. "I've tried to deny it, tried to push aside my feelings, but... but I can't. I love her, Osaka. I've finally come to realize that everything that made me happy…everything that made me love life…it was all because of her… and I can't keep pretending that I don’t want her."

Tears welled up in Osaka's eyes, but she managed to nod, a small, sad smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I know," she whispered. "I've seen the way you look at her, the way your eyes light up whenever she's around. And as much as it hurts, I... I understand."

Toru's heart clenched with guilt at the pain he saw in Osaka's eyes, the knowledge that he was causing her so much hurt and heartache nearly overwhelming him. But amidst the sorrow and regret, there was a sense of relief, a weight lifting from his shoulders as he finally spoke the truth he had been hiding for so long.

"I'm so sorry, Osaka," he murmured, reaching out to take her hand in his. "I never meant to hurt you, but I... I can't keep pretending that my feelings for you are enough. You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart, and I... I can't do that."

Osaka squeezed his hand gently, her gaze soft and understanding. "I know," she whispered. "And all I want is for you to be happy, Toru. Even if it's not with me."

And in that moment, Toru felt a sense of gratitude wash over him, a deep appreciation for the kindness and understanding that Osaka had shown him. He knew that he would never forget her, never forget the love and support she had given him during their time together.

As Osaka got up to leave, her shoulders hunched with grief but her head held high with dignity, Toru couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the strength and resilience she possessed. And as he watched her walk away, he knew that he would always be grateful for her understanding and kindness, even though his heart belonged elsewhere.

—end of flashback—

That happened almost three weeks ago, and here he was, still down as ever because he still hasn’t gotten a chance to speak with you. As he rounded a corner, his gaze fell upon a familiar figure sitting alone on a bench in the park. It was you, your silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights, and for a moment, Toru’s heart leaped in his chest.

Without a second thought, he changed direction and made his way towards you, his steps quickening with a sense of urgency. He needed to see you, to talk to you, to finally get some answers to the questions that had been plaguing him for months now.

Relief washed over him at the sight of you, but it quickly turned to dismay as he couldn’t help but notice the way your shoulders tensed, as if bracing for impact. His heart clenched at the sight, the realization that you were actively avoiding him hitting him like a ton of bricks. He had hoped that seeing you again would ease the ache in his chest, but instead, it only seemed to exacerbate it.

His footsteps faltered for a moment before he mustered back the courage to approach you. Each step felt like a heavy weight dragging him closer to the inevitable confrontation he had been dreading. He cleared his throat nervously, his heart pounding in his chest as he finally reached your side.

“Y/n,” he called out softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “It’s… it’s been so long since we’ve talked. I’ve missed you.”

You glanced up briefly, your eyes flitting over him before quickly returning to the ground. You instantly began to feel your heart race. You cursed yourself mentally, hoping that all of those feelings you had for him were gone once and for all, but to your surprise, they weren’t.

“Has it? I didn’t even notice.” You spoke plainly, going on your phone. Even you knew that was a low blow.

Your reaction was almost imperceptible, a slight shift in posture that spoke volumes. Toru’s heart sank at your words, his mind racing with a million different questions and doubts. What had he done wrong? Why were you treating him like this? Had he somehow pushed you away without realizing it?

“Y/n,” he repeated, his voice pleading, “please, I need to know what’s been going on with you. I miss you so much, and it’s killing me not knowing why you’ve been avoiding me.”

But you remained stubbornly silent, refusing to meet his gaze or acknowledge his presence. Toru’s frustration boiled beneath the surface, his patience wearing thin as he struggled to contain his emotions.

“Y/n, come on,” he begged, his voice cracking with emotion. “I can’t take this anymore. I need to know why you’ve been ignoring me. What did I do wrong? What did I do to deserve this?”

You flinched at his words, the guilt gnawing at your conscience as you struggled to find the right words. But before you could respond, Toru pressed on, his voice growing more desperate with each passing moment.

“I thought we were friends, Y/n,” he continued, his voice trembling with emotion. “I thought we meant something to each other. Maybe…even more than that… But if I was wrong, if I’ve just been fooling myself this whole time, then please, just tell me. Tell me the truth, even if it hurts. Because obviously, you’ve been ignoring me for the last several months and I’m getting tired of it!”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you met Toru’s gaze, the pain and confusion written plainly across his face. You opened your mouth to speak, to tell him everything, but the words caught in your throat, choked back by the weight of your own fears.

Toru’s eyes searched yours, pleading for some semblance of an answer, but you turned away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer. And in that moment of vulnerability, you felt a surge of anger rise up within you, a resentment born from years of unrequited love and silent suffering. After all this time, he still doesn’t know about how you felt. How much you loved him. How much he hurt you that day. And how much it continued to hurt every time you saw him with Osaka.

“I’m sorry, Toru,” you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t do this right now. I need some time alone.”

But Toru refused to let you off that easily, his frustration boiling over as he grabbed your arm, forcing you to face him. “No, Y/n,” he insisted, his voice tinged with desperation. “We need to talk about this. I can’t just let you walk away like this, not when it’s tearing me apart inside.”

You tried to pull away, to free yourself from his grasp, but Toru held on tight, his grip unyielding as he searched your eyes for some sign of understanding.

”Let me go, Satoru. Now.” You spoke to him, your voice completely monotone and full of venom.

Toru’s heart cracked at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue with such detachment. It was as if you were a stranger, a cold wind blowing through the warm familiarity you two once shared.

“Y/n, please,” Toru pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t shut me out like this. I can’t bear it.”

But you remained resolute, your gaze fixed on the ground as if the earth held the answers to all your troubles. Toru’s heart ached at the sight, the pain of your rejection like a physical blow to his chest.

“Please, just talk to me,” Toru implored, his voice trembling with emotion. “Tell me what I did wrong. Tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.”

Your silence was deafening, a wall of ice erected between you and Toru that seemed impossible to breach. But before he could do anything further, you spoke again, your voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “Let me go, or else.”

Toru recoiled as if struck, the pain in your words lancing through him like a blade. He had never heard you address him so formally, so coldly, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He let go of your hand, seeing you begin to walk away. That is when he snapped.

“I…I don’t understand,” Toru stammered, his voice rising as his frustration began to take hold of his emotions. “What did I do to deserve this? What did I do to make you hate me so much?” He yelled, tears beginning to fall down his face.

Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks, your heart beginning to break as well. The tears welled up in your eyes as you met Toru’s gaze, the pain and anguish written plainly across your face.

Toru’s heart clenched at the sight of your tears, each drop a dagger in his already wounded heart. He watched helplessly as you approached him, your finger trembling as you pointed it accusingly at him.

“Y-you wanna know why I’ve been acting this way? Why I’ve been ignoring you this whole fucking time?!” you yelled, your voice raw with emotion.

Toru’s breath caught in his throat as he waited for your answer, his heart pounding with anticipation and dread.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as the weight of your words hung heavy in the air between you. “It’s because of you, Toru and well…me and my stupid feelings,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because of what you said to me that day…about loving Osaka.”

Toru’s eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of understanding dawning in their depths. He opened his mouth to speak, but you held up a trembling hand, silencing him before he could interrupt.

“I know you probably didn’t mean to hurt me when you told me you loved Osaka,” you continued, your words tumbling out in a rush. “But it… it broke my heart, Toru. It shattered me into a million pieces, and I didn’t know how to put myself back together again.”

Toru listened in stunned silence as you poured out your heart, each word a dagger to his own soul. He had never realized the depth of your feelings for him, the pain you had been silently carrying all this time.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke off your words. How could you possibly explain the depth of your feelings for Toru, the longing and heartache that had consumed you for so long? How could you make him understand the pain of watching him love someone else, knowing that he would never return your affections?

“But It’s about more than just what happened with Osaka,” you finally admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s about how much I loved you, Toru. For so long, I’ve loved you with every fiber of my being. There wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t think of you, where I didn’t want to be with you.”

You continued.

“That’s why I would always make you your favorite desserts. I knew you loved them and so I made them to make you feel loved…to make you feel happy…to hopefully help you understand just how much I cared for and loved you…but you never got the idea.” Your heart was breaking more and more with each word you spoke. “You never once sat back and wondered why I did all of that for you. Of course I did it because I enjoy it…but it made it even more enjoyable knowing that it was all for you. You were the reason I looked forward to each new day. The reason as to what made everything better. And it… it hurts so much to know that you don’t feel the same way about me. And what’s worse is that…I still love you…even though I’ve tried to force those feelings away…after months of telling myself I don’t love you anymore, convincing myself of those words…I knew it was nothing but a lie.” You finished, still looking at him, seeing his widened eyes.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked up at him, the floodgates of your emotions bursting open with a force you couldn’t contain. You felt exposed and vulnerable, laid bare before Toru.

”Y/n…I-“

Gently, he squeezed your hand, silently conveying his remorse and his determination to make things right. He knew he had a long road ahead of him, but he was willing to do whatever it took to earn back your trust and your love.

“I-I never knew,” Toru choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I never realized…” he stammered, his voice choking with emotion. “I never meant to hurt you, I swear. I never wanted to cause you pain.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks unchecked. “I know, Toru. I know you didn’t mean to,” you said softly. “But the truth is, you did. And I’ve spent so long trying to come to terms with that, trying to move on and forget about you, but I just… I can’t.”

But you shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “But It doesn’t matter now, Toru,” you said, your voice tinged with sadness and resignation. “What’s done is done. You are with Osaka…and there is nothing I can do about it.”

“I-I broke up with Osaka,” Toru interrupted, his voice loud and clear.

You felt your heart skip a beat as Toru’s words hung in the air, the weight of his confession hitting you on the head. You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift in the conversation, the unexpected turn of events leaving you feeling disoriented and confused.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart racing in your chest. “Why would you break up with Osaka?”

As Toru’s voice wavered with emotion, you could sense the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air, each syllable laden with meaning and significance. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to articulate the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that had consumed him in recent months.

“It was after you stopped talking to me,” Toru confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, I couldn’t do anything…I was a mess, Y/n. And I couldn’t figure out why until I realized…it was because of you. I realized that I needed you.”

You felt a pang of guilt twist in your chest at his words, the realization that your actions had caused him so much pain weighing heavily on your conscience. But even as you grappled with your own emotions, you couldn’t help but hang on to his every word, desperate to understand the depth of his feelings.

“I kept replaying everything in my mind, every moment we’ve shared together,” Toru continued, his voice growing stronger with each passing word. “And it hit me like a bus. I’m in love with you, Y/n. I’m so in love with you that it hurts. Everywhere I turn, it always brings up a memory of us together.”

The raw honesty in Toru’s confession washed over you, leaving you reeling in its wake. You had never imagined that he could feel that way about you, never dared to entertain the possibility that your feelings for him might be reciprocated.

“I tried to hide my feelings for you while I was with Osaka…to pretend that everything was fine….but I can’t keep pretending anymore, Y/n. I can’t keep hiding how I feel.”

As Toru poured his heart out to you, baring his soul in a way you had never seen before, you felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over you. Part of you wanted to throw yourself into his arms, to finally acknowledge the love that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. But another part of you hesitated, still grappling with the scars of past heartbreaks, unsure if you were ready to take that leap of faith again.

You felt a lump form in your throat as Toru’s words washed over you, the enormity of what he was saying sinking in.

“I love you so much,Y/n… and I am so sorry that it took me this long to figure it out” He started, his hands becoming clammy.

Toru reached out tentatively, his hand hovering in the air between you as if unsure whether to touch you or not. “Please, Y/n,” he pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion. “Give me a chance to make things right. I’ll do anything, I swear.”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of pain and longing. “I don’t know if I can, Toru. You really hurt me, even if you didn’t mean to.” you admitted, your voice barely audible above the soft hum of the evening breeze.

“Plus…Suguru and I have been getting close…and I…I think I’m falling for him as well. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about him that draws me to him, something I can’t ignore. So not only do I still have feelings for you…but I also have feelings for him…and I’m just so lost and confused. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

The weight of your confession hung heavy in the air, the silence stretching between you like a chasm.

When you finally mentioned Suguru, Toru’s heart clenched with a mixture of jealousy and resignation. He had suspected as much, had seen the way you looked at Suguru when you thought no one was watching, the subtle shifts in your demeanor whenever he was around. But hearing you say the words out loud, admitting to falling for another, felt like a blow to his chest.

But he pushed back those feelings as he heard and saw your current state. He felt a surge of guilt wash over him as he saw you. This wasn’t about him right now; it was about you and the pain he had caused you. He couldn’t bear the thought of being the source of your hurt, and the realization weighed heavily on his heart.

He refused to give up hope. He knew that he had to earn your forgiveness, that it wouldn’t come easily or quickly. But he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right between you, to prove to you that he was worthy of your love.

“However,” you started, still looking into his eyes.

“I know that I can’t keep ignoring you like this. And…I have been missing you for some time as well. So…how about we just start back at square one and see where that takes us?”

Toru listened intently, his heart pounding with anticipation as you spoke. He understood the gravity of your words, the weight of the pain he had caused you. But as you suggested starting anew, a spark of hope ignited within him, lighting up the darkness that had clouded his heart.

He nodded, a sense of determination coursing through him. "I would like that…a lot actually," he replied, his voice soft yet resolute. "Let's start fresh, take it one step at a time."

As the words left his lips, a sense of relief washed over you. Despite the hurt and the uncertainty, you couldn't ignore the flicker of hope that blossomed within you. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for the two of you to find your way back to each other. To love and cherish one another and be one.

With a tentative smile, you reached out and squeezed Toru's hand, feeling the warmth and strength it offered, missing how good it felt. As you two walked side by side, the weight of the past lifting from your shoulders, you felt a renewed sense of optimism fill your heart. Maybe this wasn't the end of your story with Toru, but rather the beginning of a new chapter, one filled with hope, forgiveness, and the promise of a brighter and happier future.

_____________

Taglist: (If you’d like to be added, just let me know with the username you’d like to be notified and Ill gladly get you added <3, again, thank you for all the support)

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#angst #gojo imagine #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jjk imagines #jjk satoru #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk x you #getou suguru x you #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru angst #suguru imagine #jjk suguru #geto suguru #gojo saturo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen satoru

[angelwoozi]

acouasm (hjs)

pairing: boyfriend!shua x afab!reader

summary: (n.) a ringing noise in your head — and it's just three words of promise whispered by yours truly during moments of sorrow, or moments of joy. the whisper also lives in the crevices of your mind during moments of pleasure, when he makes love to you, his true love.

genre: smut, pwp, est relationship, 18+

wordcount: 777 words

warnings: kissing, explicit unprotected penetrative sex, sappy love confessions, soft smut hehe.

note: nothing much, it's just soft sweet shua fucking reader deep. it's more feelings + imagery than sex but yeah. also, thankyou @multi-kpop-fanfics and @lovelyhan for reading it over and leaving wonderful comments 🤍

angelwoozi masterlist

"I love you."

"Can you not–" your sentence is broken by a whimper as it falls from your lips like a soft petal. Joshua's fingers trace the silhouette of your side and he thrusts into you, deep and slow. Your stomach coils at it, and you breathe slowly, pleasure building up inside you and rippling through your body.

"Can I not what?" he asks in a sigh, his voice breaking a little as your walls flutter around his length.

"Don't tell me you love me while you fuck me. It makes me melt faster." you close your eyes as he laughs low at your words, his sound ringing sweet in your ears and making your insides all his.

"But, I do love you," he pulls out with a groan making you tighten your hold around his neck, unconsciously bringing him closer to your panting form and your chest brushes with his, eliciting a new spark as your nipples touch his skin bathed in gold. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes finding yours as you drown in his which resemble a deep golden honey shade, the sunlight from the sheer curtains illuminating his face, before continuing, "and I love the way your eyes look at me whenever I say that."

It's like heaven's out to get you.

Your eyes roll back at his words, as he punctuates them by snapping his hips, making his cock being swallowed by your pussy. Your core flutters, coiling tight at the sweet intensity and your toes curl, if only a tad bit. There's a golden misty air about him, and it clings to your bare skin, seeping through your pores and running through you like oxygen, making you yearn for him more.

It's true – if only metaphorically, but there are stars in your eyes whenever he professes his love for you. Be it in between late night scrabble marathons or early morning coffee rush, be it through three squeezes while your hand is held in his when you hear something sorrowing or by the soft kiss he offers your forehead when you hear something happening – it's always made you look at him as if he hung up the stars and the moon in your dark, blank canvas of an universe.

His love is also present in the way his lips land at the edge of yours, a sure kiss, a promise, as his length drags slowly across your walls, bringing you closer to the edge – purely by the sheer intensity.

"Shua, I am clos-"

"I know, I know, my love." he cuts you off, his thrusts speeding up a little, but still making it sure to fuck you deep. There's an unsaid act of affection hanging like a thread, and he grabs it by kissing your lips, making you gasp in his mouth as he opens it up for his tongue. His pace works smooth, and quick as his lips dance across yours, asking you to join a ballet, like two swans putting up a show as they move across the lake in tandem, in grace.

You moan into his mouth, as it gets swallowed by his tongue when you feel yourself falling off the edge – an indication for him to know, now that he has rendered you speechless.

"It's okay, you can let go for me." he whispers against your lips, and his words and the sound of his skin slapping against yours, covered in a sheen of sweat – filthy, act as the final push for you as you come undone across his length, your orgasm overcoming you and your senses.

It's when you go into an overdrive, that you faintly register his thrusts getting sloppy. A while later, the spilling of his hot cum deep inside you, is what brings you back to your surroundings as he acknowledges you with a prolonged groan, his skin digging into yours. His cock stays inside you as he peppers your jaw with kisses, your skin feeling as if it's on fire.

"Stop clenching around me." he says and you snort – a delayed moan masking your amusement.

"I can't help it," you provide as you pull him towards you– him falling into you, but still smartly manouvering himself to save you from being crushed by him. The action of yours has him pulling out with a cringe, and laying on his side beside you, naked bodies intertwined to form one.

It's a little while later as you both revel in the afterglow during the setting afternoon that you utter the words that have been ringing in your head, ones that cause him to gift you the widest of his smiles.

"I love you."

— hello. it was the death of night when i wrote this, so idk loll. but i still hope y'all liked it !!

🌼 please reblog, comment or give feedback in any way possible as it's very much appreciated and i will love you more!! you can also send me asks 🤍

© angelwoozi. do not repost.

#joshua #joshua smut #seventeen #seventeen smut #svthub #hong jisoo #svt #svt smut #joshua fanfic #joshua x reader #joshua x you #joshua scenarios #joshua imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #k labels #kflixnet #fic ; acouasm #hjs #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you

[little-diable]

I Remember Everything - Tommy Shelby (smut)

Written for my lovely @runnning-outof-time - I hope this is what you had in mind with this story. Inspired by Zach Bryan's song "I Remember Everything". Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tommy only smiles when he gets to drink, (y/n) only dares to marvel at her best friend when he’s distracted. A rising sun and moments shared since childhood days finally bring the two closer together.

Warnings: 18+, piv smut, quite soft smut, friends to lovers, some angst because of family troubles, mentions that the reader didn’t have an easy past but nothing specific

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (about 2.5k words)

An eerie silence wrapped itself around the two. His piercing eyes kept staring at the almost empty glass of his, trying to burn holes into the shards that could easily cut his aching heart. She wanted to speak up, wanted to break through the silence that grew thicker like soldiers moving closer with their unbreakable shield wall, but she couldn’t.

She watched him pour alcohol down his throat, one glass after another, desperately trying to drown his pain, his guilt, his anger in one of the devil’s finest creations. Her mouth was dry, throat tight, unable to speak to the man she longed for, desperately trying to soothe his pain.

It had always been like this, ever since they’ve been young children. He’d keep his every sorrow bottled in, relying on his closest friend to take away the pain he couldn’t get rid of without her help. Tommy Shelby was a good man, a man with a pure heart and too much blood sticking to his fingers, but Tommy Shelby was also a blind man, an overly oblivious man, not seeing through the pain (y/n) had to carry around with herself, unable to rely on the friend who could only worry about his business.

Whenever the ship he was sailing through uneasy waters was close to sinking, wood soaked through like the fabric tied to the high mast, she’d sail next to him, dragging him through every storm he found himself trapped in. Though while he mistook it for simple coincidences, allowing her to turn up whenever he needed him, she grew more uneasy by the minute, wondering how much longer she’d be able to keep up this charade.

“You see, Tommy.” She cleared her throat, fingers interlaced in her lap as if she was about to start praying. “You know by now that I’ll do whatever I can to help you, that’s what you called me here for after all, I guess. But I can’t help if you don’t tell me what happened.”

A humourless laugh left the man who forced yet another cigarette between his lips, lips (y/n) found herself aching for whenever she got the time to marvel at the handsome man. Fuck, she wished she didn’t remember every moment on the days and nights she spent with him, and yet she couldn’t get rid of them, forced into her memories like the languages she had once been forced to learn, speaking them all too effortlessly by now.

“Do you remember how we’d sneak out at night to watch the sunrise?” Her soft voice filled the room once again, finally managing to force a smile onto his lips. To others it was an unfamiliar sight, Tommy Shelby wasn’t one to smile around others, wasn’t one to give away the emotions he found himself guided by, but with her it had always been different, with her it had always been transparent, well, besides the emotions both fostered for one another, unable to act on them. “Come.”

(Y/n) rose to her feet, hand stretched out for Tommy to take. It took him a moment to rise to his feet, cigarettes and alcohol long forgotten as she guided him out into the cold night. No words were spoken as he wrapped his arm around her middle, keeping her close in an almost too protective matter. Her heart pounded in her chest, a tad bit too fast, and yet slow enough to keep the way he made her feel hidden from his sharp gaze and his curious ears.

Both knew the route to that one empty house by heart, they’d always find their way to it, no matter where in the city they were staying at. But today both didn’t walk with fast steps, no, today they took their time, not wanting to let the passing by seconds turn into minutes and hours all too quickly.

“I’ve always wondered how you could so easily trust and help people you meet. It’s like a gift, a talent I can’t help but be jealous of.” Tommy’s soft voice cut through the fog of silence, tightening his grip on (y/n) as her eyes met his. The sounds of their steps echoed through the night, through the almost empty streets they’ve been waking for years. “You’ve been hurt, beaten, and abused. I’ve once sworn that I’ll kill whoever dares to touch you, and yet you managed to forgive them, each and every one of them. How?”

“Who is it, Tommy? What happened?” The two came to a halt in front of the old brick house as he let go of her to push his weight against the wooden door. It took him a few tries to finally open it, allowing them to step into the dark house. Tommy ignored her question, keeping quiet as they walked up the stairs, one by one, climbing higher like lost souls walking the stairs to a new life. But nothing new was awaiting the two up there, nothing but a still somewhat dark sky.

“You know, you’ve changed a lot, you’ll never be the man that you always swore, Tommy, but I know you’re no stranger to forgiveness. I think you’re afraid of it, whatever it is that plagues your mind.” The two entered the roof - with another cigarette placed between his lips and his fingers aching for yet another glass, Tommy walked closer to the edge of the familiar ground. She watched the smoke leave his nostrils, blown into the night like the lives he had taken over the past years, rising numbers that evaporated into the thin air, forgotten names and fates they no longer recalled.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, not when you know that you’re being betrayed, not when you know that those you should trust the most are trying to sell your life to the highest bidder.” A sharp inhale of the cold air was sucked into (y/n)’s lungs, arms wrapped around herself as she stepped closer to him. With her eyes set on the horizon, on the rising sun, she placed her chin on his shoulder, not daring to move. For a few more moments they cherished the quietness, watching the sky turn into the rawest colours known to humankind.

Tommy’s hand found hers, resting on his shoulder like it had done numerous times before. Slowly he turned towards (y/n), hand finding her chin to keep her eyes on him. (Y/n) always felt naked beneath his gaze, trying to cover up as if she was scared that her body would tell him all about the love she fostered for him. But Tommy didn’t give her the chance to move, thumb softly stroking her cold skin.

Both couldn’t help but ache for one another, though keeping quiet - even as (y/n) nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. His hand found the back of her head, softly stroking her hair, eyes focused on the orange sky. Whenever he had found the strength to speak up, he had begged (y/n) to stay around till the sun would rise, needing to hold her close like a life vest meant to save him. She was everything he wished he didn’t ache for but desperately did.

“I love you, Tommy. No matter what, I’ll always be there for you.” She pressed a kiss to his throat, making his eyes flutter close at the unexpected gesture.

“Don’t make promises like that, (y/n). I’m no good friend, I’m selfish for keeping you around, but you’re the only good thing keeping me sane.” (Y/n) pushed him away to get a look at his features, all too used to the pain swimming in Tommy's bright pupils. She cupped his face with both hands, keeping the man close as she shook her head, wondering how she could explain to him that he was all she needed.

“We both know that’s not true, you’re my best friend, I’d die for you in a heartbeat, and I know you’d do the same for me.” Tommy gently pushed her hands away, eyes fluttering close for a second before a scoff left him. His hand rubbed his tired eyes, trying to hold back the words that no longer could be stopped from rolling off his tongue.

“Best friend, fuck, I wish that’d be enough for me, but it no longer is. I’ve been stupid, keeping my mouth shut for your own sake, but everything is burning around me, what loss will it be if I add more fuel to the flames, eh?” She didn’t understand what he was talking about, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly parted. With dilated pupils (y/n) watched him step closer once again, cupping her cheek with one hand, while the other found her neck.

His warm breath clashed against her tingling lips, wondering what he was about to do. They didn’t break eye contact, wondering who’d start moving first. (Y/n) felt her heart pounding, racing in her chest as her mind slowly began to realise what was about to happen. His lips found hers, kissing (y/n) slowly to give her the chance to pull away should she want to escape from this moment. But she didn’t, she was frozen to the ground, lips moving in sync with Tommy’s.

The sky looked as if it was burning, the flames kept rising higher, setting their bodies ablaze with its strength. Their moans rippled through them, echoing through the early morning like shots being fired in the distance. Tommy tasted of cigarettes, of the alcohol he had forced down his throat an hour ago, while (y/n) tasted of home, of a feeling so unfamiliar Tommy found himself addicted within moments.

Both broke the kiss with aching lungs, needing to catch their breath as he pressed his forehead against hers. Neither Tommy nor (y/n) dared to speak up, relishing in one another’s touch. Their bodies moved them down the stairs of the house, into the morning, with interlaced fingers and intertwined souls. He guided her back through the streets, finding their way to her apartment, to the home she had bought years ago and couldn’t dare to think of parting from it ever again.

“Tommy?” (Y/n) whispered his name as they shrugged out of their coats and stepped out of their shoes, finding back together at the first chance to move. “What does this mean?" She gestured between the both of them, staring at Tommy as if he was God himself, about to answer her every question. "I love you, but I can’t just be an easy distraction for you.”

“I love you more than I’ll ever be able to express with words, with gifts, with gestures. You’re my home, (y/n). I once swore to always protect you, eh? I won’t hurt you, I promise.” He kissed her once again, allowing her gleeful chuckles to vibrate on his lips as she guided him into her bedroom, begging Tommy to show her how much he loved her, needing to feel him close.

“You’ll be the death of me, Tommy Shelby, what would my mother say when she’d see us like this?” His skilled fingers popped open the buttons of her dress one by one, letting the dark fabric fall to the ground as he pushed it down her shoulders.

“She’d force me to come to church with her, she’d wash my hands with holy water and would try to hide me away from your father. I'd probably be shipped off to some monastery, forced to become a priest. My eternal punishment for blemishing her daughter's soul.” (Y/n)‘s loud laugh echoed through her bedroom, a sound that was swallowed by her moans seconds later as he kissed her neck, pulling her into his chest. Her fingers started moving, freeing him of his vest, his shirt, and his trousers. Both were in a hurry to get one another naked, not wanting to give the fabrics keeping them apart any more time to distract them.

“Make me yours, forever.” Her sultry voice left the man groaning, pushing her down on her bed as he crawled up her frame, nestling between her thighs. Their kiss grew hungrier, sloppier as his hand moved down her frame, stroking her breasts, teasing her hardening nipples before he finally found her aching core. She was soaked, dripping for the man who found himself smiling down on her. It was unfamiliar to her, seeing him smile without any alcohol near, and yet (y/n) couldn’t help but pray that she’d get to see this smile more often from now on.

“I’ve always wondered if I’d eventually get to see you like this, bare for me, for my eyes only. But this is better than I could have ever imagined.” Tommy’s praises left her gasping, eyes fluttering close as he circled her clit with his fingers, making her hyperaware of his every touch.

“Need you inside of me, Tommy, please. We’ve wasted too much time already.” A hum left him as he let go of her, pumping his cock for a few seconds before he spat down on it, lubing himself up. With one of her arms finding it’s way around his neck and her legs clinging to his waist, Tommy allowed himself to push into her, slowly, carefully.

Her walls pulsed around him, begging him to build a comfortable rhythm. Their bodies met with every thrust, pushed closer and closer together as they shared the love they felt without any words being spoken. Their bodies perfectly moved together, pushing them higher and higher with every thrust, with every moment where he pressed against her swollen spot, with every circling motion around her pulsing bundle of nerves.

Neither of them had ever experienced something this raw, something this full of emotions, something this intimate. No matter how many times they’ve been touched by lovers, strangers, and those they no longer could remember, it had never been this intense, this raw, this exciting.

“You’re so big, stretching me so good, don’t ever stop Tommy, don’t ever let me go, keep me forever.” Her whispers were torn between sobs and moans, a sound so beautiful Tommy wanted to record it, to keep it stored in his memories like the first time he had heard his son laugh. His lips found hers, sealing the promise with a loving kiss.

His pace grew rougher, chasing both their arising highs, set on pushing one another over the edge within the next moments. (Y/n) gave in first, eyes rolling back into her head, forcing her fingernails to scratch at his skin, leaving marks down his muscular back. He kept fucking her, forcing his cock to disappear deeper and deeper inside of her till his orgasm clawed through him, painting her walls white.

“I love you.” Her words left him smiling, letting go of her to reach for a tissue. Tommy took his time with cleaning her up before he pulled her into his chest, cradling her closer and closer.

“I’ll get you a ring in the afternoon.” She froze in his grasp, confused eyes flickering up to his. An almost boyish grin stuck to his lips, tilting his head down to kiss her slightly swollen lips. “You want forever, and I promise to give it to you, even if it’s the last promise I’ll be able to keep.”

I wish I didn't, but I do, remember every moment on the nights with you

#Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby x reader #Peaky blinders imagine

[holylulusworld]

Snow bunny (1)

Summary: Someone tries to hunt a deer in your woods. You won’t have it.

Pairing: CEvans characters x Nymph!Reader (Lloyd Hansen, Ari Levinson, Andy Barber)

Warnings: creature reader, mentions of hunting deer, a little Christmas magic, kidnapping (kinda), Lloyd being Lloyd, groping, dirty talk, seduction (use of magic), I’ll label this dub-con (reader on them) because of her nature

Words: 1,7k

A/N: Please consider this a naughty Christmas fairytale.

Snow bunny masterlist

“Almost there, Barber. Follow me and you will kill your first deer.” You watch the men sneak around the woods. They carry weapons and knives. “Come on, hurry up. I don’t have all day to guide you through your first hunt, sunshine.”

“Shut up,” one of the other men shushes the first one. “You dragged me out here to run around the woods. I’d prefer a cabin, a fire, and some coffee.”

“Same,” the last guy grunts. “Lloyd let’s call it a day. I thought we want to drown our sorrows in booze and maybe some nice tits.”

“Shut up, Levinson,” the first guy twirls around to glare at the third guy. “You and Barber always whine about how your wives left you and that you want something new. You said you want thrills and fun. What is better than killing something?”

“Lloyd,” the second guy sighs. “Ari is not wrong. I’d take a drink over killing a deer any time of the day.”

“See, Andy thinks the same,” Ari grunts. “Let’s head back. We won’t find a deer to shoot today. It’s ice cold and I don’t feel my feet.”

“Wait!” The first guy, Lloyd lifts his fist. “There she is. The one I saw earlier.” He shushes the others and points at a majestic deer in the distance. He doesn’t know that the deer is dear to you, or that she’s sacred. “If you don’t want to kill that one, I’ll do it.”

“No. You won’t,” you confidently say and step out from behind a tree. All eyes are suddenly on you. The men gasp and groan as you walk toward them.

You’re only wearing a dress made of ivy and flowers. A leaf headdress covers your head. They watch you gracefully step closer, not bothered by the snow or the cold.

“Lady, shouldn’t you wear a little more than this—” Andy says. He worriedly looks at your bare feet as you walk through the snow. “She’s not wearing shoes and a thin dress made of what looks like ivy.”

“Miss, are you in trouble?” Ari steps toward you. He unbuttons his warm jacket to offer it to you, but you wave him off. “Miss?”

“Damn me,” Lloyd whistles. He looks you up and down and cups his crotch. “That’s a cute snow bunny, my friends. This must be the gift our friend told us about. Ya know, the fancy lady.”

“Fancy lady?” You huff. “I haven’t heard that term in ages.” Your soft voice goes straight to Andy’s cock. “Now, you will leave this place. The woods are not yours to disturb.”

“Miss, did you hit your head?” Andy worriedly watches you place your hand on Lloyd’s gun. “We can bring you back to town.”

“This is my home,” you snap your head toward Andy and snarl. “You invaded my home, and now you will pay for it.”

You tighten your hold on the gun, smirking as Lloyd tries to shake your hand off. “Let go, bunny and I won’t spank your cute ass too hard.”

“You need to learn your lesson.” You purr and dip your head to watch Ari take off his jacket. “I think you will be the first one Lloyd Hansen.”

Andy and Ari watch you drop your hand from the gun and step away. They are mesmerized by you and your appearance.

“Bunny, you should think about your next step. I’d hate to hurt you,” Lloyd smirks. “Or are you into a little pain?”

“You will pay for all the crimes you committed. You disrespect nature for too long,” you wave your hand, empathizing your words with the gesture. “Lloyd Hansen, you will be my slave from today on.”

Andy gasps as ivy crawls across the snow, it crawls up Lloyd’s leg to sling around the gun he’s still holding.

“Lloyd, you should drop the gun now,” Ari says. He’s suddenly not sure if his fascination for you is justified. “Don’t anger her. I don’t think she’s a prostitute.”

“Far from it,” you wave your hand again. More ivy crawls toward Lloyd to sling around his body. “He will look pretty in my garden. I will call his statue punishment.”

“Let me go, bunny,” Lloyd wiggles and grunts. “Hey, I’m talking to you. I won’t hurt you if you let me go now.”

“I won’t hurt you if you swear your obedience and loyalty to me and the woods,” you step toward Lloyd as more ivy wraps around his neck. “Now.”

“Do it Lloyd,” Andy sounds a little panicked. “Fuck, just do it!”

“Fine, snow bunny,” Lloyd struggles to speak as ivy wraps around his mouth. “I’ll be yours.”

“Wonderful!” You clap your hands, and the ivy drops to the ground. It disappears as suddenly as it appeared to wrap around the intruder. “Now to you.”

Lloyd is still a little shaken when you step toward Andy. You cup his face to feel his well-trimmed but thick beard under your fingertips.

“You will be mine too. I can sense your broken soul and sadness. You will only know joy and love from now on.”

Andy licks his lips. He can't move, speak, or think. “I-“ Andy croaks but doesn’t bring the words swirling in his mind out. He got a job, responsibility, an ex-wife demanding money, and a house to pay for but all he can think of now is to make you happy.

“Say yes, my sweet lover,” you press your lips to Andy’s taking his breath and fears away. He moans into your mouth, feeling his chest and cock swell at the same time. “Say you are mine.”

“I’m yours,” he breathes against your lips. Andy reaches out for you, but you slip through his fingers like the wind. “Only yours…”

You suddenly stand in front of Ari, eyes scanning more than his features. “Ari, your soul is sad too, and your heart is broken.” You cup his face with both hands. “Say you are mine and all of this will be gone forever.”

“I-I,” he welcomes your lips and closes his eyes. It feels like a weight gets lifted off his chest when you wrap your arms around him like the ivy did with Lloyd. “I’m yours.”

“Of course you are mine, Ari,” you breathe and float away to wrap your hand around Lloyd’s throat. “You are not sad nor heartbroken. But you are a bad…bad man and need guidance.”

“Oh bunny, I’d like to guide something inside of you,” Lloyd grins. He got that you are more interested in owning the men than anything else. “That’s what you want, right? You’re a naughty little slut dreaming of dick. I bet you want us to defile you.”

“Lloyd, don’t,” Ari warns. “Let her make you happy.” He’s like in a trance. “I want to make her happy and forget about my awful life.”

“It’s Christmas, my love,” you blow a kiss in Ari’s direction. “I will share all of my love with you.”

“And me,” Andy purrs. His eyes are dilated, and you know he is drifting in the right direction. You smirk and blow him a kiss too.

“Yes, my love,” you coo and batt your eyelashes. “Wait for me, Andy. I need to tame your friend first.”

“You can try,” Lloyd snickers as you slam him against the nearby tree. He laughs and watches you run your hands over his chest. “I’m not some puppy you can train. I know you are using some tricks to confuse these two idiots but me, I’m made of rougher stuff, bunny. If you want me, go on your knees, and give me a kiss to my dick.”

“You’re a stubborn and naughty man, Lloyd,” you are fascinated by this man. None of the other men you enchanted ever withstood your magic for so long. “Hmm…I won’t leave you behind. I want to keep you too.”

“Keep me?” He snorts. “Bunny if you keep me you’ll always be full of dick. I’ll use all of your holes. I will fuck you under your Christmas tree and christen it. You will be my whore until I get bored.”

Your core aches at his crude description. Maybe you shouldn’t control him too much. This man is a menace, and you want him to use you the way he wants to.

“We will see,” you say instead of giving away that you want him to take you right there against the tree. “For now, you are mine and will follow me home.”

“Like hell,” he growls. His hand shoots toward your crotch to roughly cup your pussy. “Look who’s wet like a cat in heat for me. Come on, bunny. I want you to turn around and let Lloyd take good care of that cunt.”

“You will wait until it’s your turn,” you cup his face and kiss him roughly. “You will be my new toy. Maybe I’ll turn you into my favorite, huh?”

“Miss…I mean…it’s getting colder,” Andy’s teeth shatter. “We should head back, don’t you think?”

“Oh! Of course,” you twirl around to look at Andy and Ari. “Humans freeze so easily.” You snap your fingers. The trees part and the snow melts to create a path. “Come with me. I’ll offer you shelter from the cold.”

“I bet your cunt is slick and warm enough to keep me warm,” Lloyd snickers, but follows hot on your heels. “So, what do you do for a living? Kidnapping hot guys to get dick? Hmm… no. A girl can’t live off cock and cum alone.”

“You really are a naughty man, Lloyd Hansen,” you chuckle as you look over your shoulder. “Santa was right. You need me to make a better man out of you…”

“Whoa, the fuck!” Lloyd stops in his tracks as you stop walking. You are standing in front of a huge castle. Ivy and flowers are wrapped around the whole building and it looks like straight out of a fairytale. “Where is this thing coming from? Not hours ago, there was nothing but snow and trees.”

“You cannot see my home as long as you are not worthy,” you grab his wrist, to make sure Lloyd doesn’t run away. Ari and Andy are loyal already, but Lloyd is a different story. “You will be allowed inside as long as you are a good boy.”

“Good boy,” he snorts. “Dream on, bunny.”

“Y/N, my love,” the door opens to reveal another man. The tall blonde steps outside to welcome you home. “Do you like my choice? Are you satisfied?”

“Stevie, my sweet love,” you coo, and push Lloyd toward the door. “Please keep an eye on this one. He’s a little…”

“Stubborn,” Steve smirks. “Oh, punk. You are in for a long haul…”

Tags in reblog.

#lloyd hansen #ari levinson #andy barber #steve rogers #nymph reader #snow bunny #lloyd hansen x reader #ari levinson x reader #andy barber x reader

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Are you requests open yet, right?

Can you make something with Fenrys, like, him and reader are mates, and they are trying to get a child for so long, and one day they discover that they are expecting.

(I really liked your writing, and very few people write about him, so I wanted to thank you for this 💕)

Had a blast writing this truly. Thank you for requesting and the kind words, I hope you'll enjoy it. 🤍✨

Little pup

At first, you didn't talk about it. You both were still young and for the most part, had wanted to explore the world together. Just you two. Try new things. See new places. Travel. Indulge in each other's company. And the mating frenzy hit you so hard that you didn't leave your house for over a month. And by then you were convinced that everyone passing by could smell the sex lingering all around.

And yet even in that month, it wasn't about getting pregnant. Fenrys was learning how to please you and you were doing the same. It was the desire to explore that drove you. To bring each other immense pleasure. Till the last breaking point. Till the moment all you could see was stars. Till furniture was breaking. But the thought of conceiving never crossed your mind.

But it's the first time your period is late and you're feeling so weird that Aelin had to drag you to the healer's level. It's the joyful smile on the woman's face when she says, "Oh you might as well be pregnant", that breaks this bubble of cold water over your head. "How exciting would that be? Babies are so rare and to have one ahh...", the healer beams as she ushers you to lay down. You reach for Aelin's hand almost instantly. The nerve suddenly so uneasy in your chest.

And then the healer's face drops and so does your heart. Sadness washes over you and it's like you had lost something you didn't even think you wanted five minutes ago. "You started your circle, darling", she says lowering your skirt down and you just want to crawl into yourself. "Ah, yes", you quickly move to get down the table. Glad your back is to the two women as you quickly wipe your tears. Suddenly feeling so frustrated. You feel Fenrys tugging on the bond yet that only makes your heart ache more so you push him out of your head quickly. Drowsing the bond in complete darkness.

Fenrys comes home way earlier than he should have been there. And you know it's because he would always drop anything for you. High stake leaders waiting for the meeting? Fuck them! His mate needs him so he's leaving and gods save the souls who try to stand in his way.

He knows by the silence that something had happened. Something that upset you. Ticked you over. Then Fenrys smells the blood. Gears turning before he realizes that your cycle had finally shown up but why the sense of sorrow then? This feeling of pain makes him rub his chest as he too tries to soothe the aching.

"My, love", Fenrys shrugs his cloak off carelessly, stepping closer to the bed. You're completely submerged by the furs all over your body. He makes a quick work of pushing them to the side until your wet cheeks come into sight and Fenry's heart drop even more. "Love", he breathes out in worry. But that only makes your tears well up more. A choked-out sob leaves your lips before you move to push away from your mate. That jabs Fenry's heart too.

"Love, if you don't tell me what's going on...", and then this shien of anger washes over you. Painting your cheeks in even more crimson shades. "Talk to you? Talk about what, huh?", you leap at him, fist coming in contact with Fenrys's strong chest.

But then you draw your hands back, looking at them with so much disgust. Fenrys steps in quickly taking your smaller palms into his. Your mind was too chaotic for him to read now. So he had to trust you to let him in on your own time. "What is going on...", you mutter, "You're overwhelmed and your body is full of hormones", even Fenrys frown at his own words but that's the truth in a way. The question still stands though. What caused all of this? "I thought I was...", you breathe through the sobs, "Thought we had...", and then it's full-on sobs, till your legs give out and Fenrys quickly wraps you up in his arms, rocking you from time to time.

There's no way to tell how long you've been crying by the time you're only sniffling. Eyes puffy and red, holding onto Fenrys for dear life. And he had run out of comforting words by then, opting for silence and love that he poured through the bond. You push away from him slightly. Knowing full well that you owe him an explanation. Because he too would have been a part of this if you had been pregnant. Your eyes well up with tears once more as you glance at him and Fenrys is ready to cradle you once more but you stop him. "I saw a healer this morning. She thought that I might...", you swallow the lump in your throat, shoulders sagging, "might be... pregnant". Fenrys's heart jumps up his throat. Suddenly he's almost hyper-aware of his surroundings. Threats. Smells. Sounds. But then nothing. And then just like before it all falls into place.

This. All of this was because you weren't. Because there wasn't a babe growing in your womb. No little Fenrys, or Y/N. And it's almost like another slap to his face because he only now realizes that you never really talked about it. Becoming parents. Growing your family. Being together and having one another was comforting enough. But seeing you like this. "I'm sorry...", you whisper and Fenrys draws his gaze back to you. "What for love? There's nothing to be sorry for", he brushes your loose hair away from your face.

"For not being pregnant", Fenrys frown at your words. And frowns so deep that his eyebrows nearly come together. "Now you take that back", his hands cup your face, "You take that back and never dare to apologize for something like this".

And you know that it comes from his heart because he loves you. Because no matter what you do he will always be there. "What if I can't?", you ask him, biting your lip, "Then we won't have any and that will be more than enough because we would have one another", he's quick to reassure you. And once more from the way his eyes are gleaming you know that he means it. "Come here", he mutters m, bringing you back into his arms, and wrapping it up in the comfort of his warmth. Drowning out the world around you.

All of this leads to a long conversation about children. One that you share late at night, both tangled between the sheets. Let the stars and the moon be the only witnesses of your wishes and dreams. And you both know that's so rare. And something that many couples don't even get close to. Fenrys knows how he and his brother Connall had come pretty late into their parent's lives. But then what a blessing it was to have two babies. Yet the time span was what scared him the most. Not because he was desperate. Don't get him wrong he wanted to see you pregnant. Know that it's his baby growing within you. But he could tell how fragile this topic made you. How you would shiver any time someone brought up the conversation of babies. How you would halt at the sight of younglings running around in the streets. How you forced a smile once Ellide got pregnant and you had brushed away your sad tears saying that it was only happy crying.

And it's only a handful of years later. Many disappointing visits to the healers later that you jolt up in the morning rushing to the bathroom. Fenrys is out of bed just as fast, darting after you and reaching to hold your hair out of your face as you emptied your stomach into the toilet. His hands rub comforting circles over your back. Your skin looks clammy and pale and it makes Fenrys sick to his stomach as well.

Because what if all the sorrows had finally eaten you from within in? What if he had missed something? Overlooked you not eating well, not sleeping enough. Your head drops to the side, and Fenrys quickly turns you over, reaching for the tap before flickering water over your face. If an illness claimed your life... if he would be left alone...it's a selfish thought but one that has been his number one fear ever since he saw you for the very first time.

"I'm fine", you groggily say and Fenrys only huffs, "Fine my ass, you're barely conscious". Those are harsher words than he wishes that thrown your way but he's so worried. So worried his own eyes are blurry. Then he moves up quickly, you tightly pressed to his chest. "Fen, I just need to lay down", but he doesn't listen as he throws the door open. Not caring that he's shirtless, or that you are only wearing one of his shirts. He rushes down the hallway, yet he's still mindful of not shaking you too much.

The healers haven't even finished their morning preparations when he storms in, eyes wild. The healer who had been tending to you for years now jumps up instantly. "I don't know what's happening", Fenrys admits as he lowers you onto the bed. The lady presses her palm onto your forehead before cradling your cheek. "Y/N, what's hurting?", she asks softly but you only shake your head. Her mouth falls into a tight frown and she orders a couple of other healers around, turning to Fenrys so he would tell her what happened.

"When was the last time you ate, girl?", she asks strictly, fingers running over your stomach. "Breakfast", you breathe out, "yesterday". Fenrys growls in frustration. He had returned home late last night, you had already been asleep and so he never even thought about the fact that he didn't ask anyone on his way up if you had been down to eat dinner. The healer shakes her head, "Silly, silly girl. Mirth, bring the lady some light breakfast and a tart", she says even though you turn to protest. "You're with child and this is all stunt you pulled here is because you didn't eat", every sound in the room dies down. Your eyes grow big and for a moment you're sure you just mistaken her words. Surely not... but it's the way Fenrys is looking at the healer with the same surprised eyes that makes you realize that he heard it too.

"Congratulations you two. A strong heartbeat", she carefully presses her palm to your shoulder. Knowing full well that once the information fully settled in Fenrys's brain anyone that would get near the slight swell in your lower stomach would be marked an enemy. The wolf closes the distance between you two. He doesn't yet trust his words so he just leans in pressing his forehead to yours. And now that it's been brought up you do smell slightly different. And the heartbeat. How did he miss the heartbeat? What kind of father will he be if he missed his child growing inside you?

"The best kind", you mutter, "the best kind of father", your hand cups his cheek, and the white wolf instantly nuzzles closer to you. He kisses the side of your head, brushing the tears from your cheeks. "Our baby", he mumbles, pressing his palm to your stomach, "Our little pup", you put your hand over his. And then Fenrys breaks into fits of giggles as he brings you closer into his arms. You too can't help the smile even if the dizziness still lingers. And you suddenly feel complete as if this was all that was missing. Now the picture would be complete. "A father, my beautiful mate will make me a father", he beams, brushing his lips against yours in a messy kiss, but the door swings open as the younger healer walks in with a trey. The laughter stops and Fenrys is snarling at the door, teeth out. Your hands push against his chest softly, "Darling, she means no harm", you reassure him yet his eyes don't leave the poor girl now shaking by the door. "Thought you seen him protective, girl? Welcome to the next stage", the older healer chuckles as she hands you the sweet bun.

#fenrys x reader #fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys moonbeam imagine #fenrys imagine #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass x reader #tog x reader #tog imagine #rowan whitethorn #lorcan lochan salvatorre #gavriel

[jaeyunluvr]

love you, unconditionally (part 1)

synopsis best friends jake and sunghoon comfort reader who can't get over her ex. sunghoon is in love with the reader. pt.2

'hey guys, you busy? can you both come over?' that one text was all it took for jaeyun and sunghoon to rush to your apartment with all the comfort they had in the world, to offer it to you. they were your best friends ever since you knew life. they sensed you weren't okay. and you weren't the one to ask help for little struggles. they were your moral support and the only people you trusted with all your heart. they cried with you in your sorrow, they laughed with you in your joy, they fought your difficulties like it were their own nemesis. and you did the same to them. it's said to be two peas in a pod, but you three have managed to accommodate another one.

"y/n?" jaeyun knocked your door softly, his tone laced with concern as him and sunghoon waited patiently for you to open the door.

there were tears dripping down your chin and your eyes red with all the sobbing. you frantically wiped your tears, not wanting to worry your friends much, even thought it would be obvious by just looking at your face that you have been crying for a long time. you dragged yourself to the main door of your little apartment, and paused.

now all of sudden you didn't feel like facing them. you felt pathetic for crying over a guy that left you long ago, that you left long ago, both on good terms. just this one fact that your heart never stopped loving him despite everything that he did wrong to you (which you would never point out), despite being warned and despite being hurt more than once.

well now that you've called them here, you had to face them. so you opened the door and found both of them panting lightly, faces filled with absolute worry.

you looked them in the eye, and suddenly you felt thankful for having them, all the emotions came rushing through your veins once again as tears started brimming in your eyes. your lips turned into a pout and you started crying badly again.

jaeyun sighed with concern and held you by the shoulders and brought you inside, as sunghoon closed the door. jaeyun bent a little to look at your face and seeing you cry hurt him so bad. he was an emotional guy, he couldn't handle to see his best friend cry like that, so he wrapped his arms around your figure, dropping his head to the crook of your neck as he engulfed you into the warmest hug ever. sunghoon wrapped his arm around jaeyun's shoulders as he patted your head in order to give you comfort.

after a little bit of crying, three of you gathered on the couch, both of them sitting on your either side, all ready to listen to you rant.

you didn't say a word. you didn't know what to say. being honest even you questioned yourself. why does it hurt this much? why were you crying now? why can't you move on? why were you not ready to let anyone else love you?

sunghoon cleared his throat and proceeded to start a conversation.

"we know the reason you're crying right now. but why did it trigger you all of sudden, y/n?" his tone was sweet, like it was made of honey. he spoke very carefully knowing you were fully sensitive right now and every word could they said could effect you.

"i don't know hoon. i don't know what triggered me but... this feeling i have for him. i don't how to erase it. i'm not even ready to let him go, even if everything is in my head. it's like i'm gonna leave a piece of me with him, a very precious part of me." your voice started wavering, and a lump formed in your throat once again.

jaeyun grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours, with his other hand on top of yours. and you continued to speak, inhaling sharply.

"i don't think i can ever love somebody like i love him, even if he doesn't love me back, even if he has hurt me. i can never say anything to him and i just cannot bring myself to blame him. my love for him, it's unconditional. even now, if he came back to me after all this time, i would still run into his arms like nothing ever happened."

jaeyun sighed, "y/n that's not-"

"i know. i know that's not how it's supposed to be. i know i have to let him go, i need to move on. i know i would find somebody who would treat me better than him. rationally, i understand all these things. but it's quite difficult to push my heart out of this mess. i have tried so many different ways, i just can't. i don't think loving someone like i love him will be possible to anyone else. i would literally do anything for him."

sunghoon didn't know what to say, because he understood every word you said. he related to each and every word. he loved you unconditionally too, he was not ready to let you go too, he would literally do anything for you too. he didn't know the solution, just as you didn't. it hurt him to see you speak of another man like this, but there was nothing he could do, because he knew what exactly you felt.

he sensed you might start crying again, because you cried every time you had to speak your heavy heart out like this.

"i'll go get something for you to eat, we just rushed here so we didn't have time to grab something on the way." sunghoon spoke as he got up and walked to your front door, carefully shutting it close behind him.

jaeyun was not having this. he couldn't see both of his best friends hurt like this, not when there was a way.

"y/n. it's been what? 7 months since you broke up with your ex. you have to move on because we know for a fact that he isn't coming back. and we know for a fact that he can never give you back the love that you gave him all this time. see you have to get yourself together and do it yourself. nobody can get into your head and change things for you. even if you have to force yourself, you have to forget him, it's for the good. only you, can change these depressing days you have, these uncertain emotions that you feel. only you can help yourself."

you nodded as you listened to him. he was right.

"how long will you continue to be like this? all this time, you've never put yourself and your well being first. now it's high time you do that. because again, in the end only you can make yourself happy. and uhh i don't know if this is the right piece of advice but, give sunghoon a chance."

you raised your brow at him. what the hell was he saying?

"sunghoon likes you. you know it too. like hell he loves you. do you know why he doesn't get jealous or angry when you talk about your ex in front of him? because he knows. he knows how it is like to love someone when they don't love you back the same way. he knows how it is like to love someone unconditionally. he's trying to accept the truth that you won't even love him back the same. he's wrong. if you think the same, then you're wrong too. you're just not giving yourself a chance. and that asshole is just suppressing his feelings without even trying."

everything he said was right. you were not willing to let your ex go. you were not willing to give yourself a chance. you unknowingly let yourself get stuck in time, where nothing was going good for you. you realised what jaeyun meant when he said 'it is only you who can repair yourself.'

you knew sunghoon liked you. but you didn't know it was this bad. he never showed it to you of course. but listening to what jaeyun had to say, you have to reconsider your thoughts. you had to let him go. you had to move forward, you had to put yourself first.

just then a door click sound was heard, as sunghoon walked in with lots of food and drinks in his hands. he smiled at you both as he proudly walked in, kicking the door close with his foot. jaeyun being the excited pup he is, realized it was time to flip the mood over and rushed to check the food out.

"there is no way you brought us THIS much ramyeon, hoon." jaeyun gasped dramatically, not even trying to hide his happiness at the amount of food. he rushed to the kitchen bringing out the ramyeon pot as he started boiling the water.

sunghoon walked to you with a little smile, as he noticed you seemed a little better than when they walked in through that door of your apartment.

"you feeling better?" he asked as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, looking down at you oh so lovingly.

it hurt him a lot, seeing you like this. he knows he can treat you better than anyone else on this planet. he knows what you deserve. you deserve the world and he's so ready to place in the palm of your hand. but it were your feelings that mattered. no matter what he does, there is no point if you didn't love him back the same way.

he's had sleepless nights and restless days because of this fact. but before he loved you, he was your best friend. he would always be there for you, even if it meant he had to erase the love he had for you.

you nodded as you looked up at him with your lips curving into a smile. he gently pulled you into a hug as you wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your head into his chest.

sunghoon couldn't hold back at the sight of you finding comfort in him, and left a warm little kiss on the top of your head, ruffling your hair as he pulled away from the hug.

he smiled at you again as he held your hand, dragging you to the kitched to join jaeyun, as they proceeded to make your day better.

maybe, just maybe, giving sunghoon a chance was not a bad idea.

#enhypen #sunghoon #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon imagines #jake enhypen #jake sim #sim jaeyun #enha imagines #enha scenarios #enhypen fluff #angst #this is to every person out there who's willing to and able to love someone eternally and unconditionally #there is nobody like you and i'm proud of you #the fact that you're able to give them that love is what matters the most #nothing else does <3

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

I found the Charlotte Robespierre-pins-down-Couthon-in-an-armchair-and-calls-him-a-hypocrite anecdote in its full glory within La Révolution, la Terreur, le Directoire 1791-1799: d’après les mémoires de Gaillard (1908) page 263-272. The table of contents claim this event happened in May 1794.

-

Gaillard therefore presents himself at Mlle Robespierre's house, she welcomes him in a friendly manner, she does not seek to know the political opinions of her visitor; both talk for a long time about her family and their old acquaintances, she names for Gaillard, with great bitterness, the prodigious number of very honest people dragged to the scaffold by Joseph Lebon; she makes him tell her how he was able to save himself at least from prison and tells him how much pleasure she and her older brother felt in receiving news of him from their younger brother; then Gaillard explains to her the embarrassment he finds himself in and asks her to help him with her advice to save the magistrates of Melun and the signatories of the address to Louis XVI.

”When my younger brother passed through Melun,” said Mlle Robespierre, ”all three of us were living together; I still hoped to be able to bring back the older, to snatch him from the wretches who obsess over him and lead him to the scaffold. They felt that my brother would eventually escape them if I regained his confidence, they destroyed me entirely in his mind; today he hates the sister who served as his mother… For several months he has been living alone, and although lodged in the same house, I no longer have the power to approach him… I loved him tenderly, I still do… His excesses are the consequence of the domination under which he groans, I am sure of it, but knowing no way to break the yoke he has allowed himself to be placed under, and no longer able to bear the pain and the shame of to see my brother devote his name to general execration, I ardently desire his death as well as mine. Judge of my unhappiness!… But let’s return to what interests you. The addresses to the king on the events of 1792 are already far from us; it seems to me that the signatures of these addresses are persecuted less than those who protested against the day of May 31. Try to see Maximilien, you will be content; he was very glad that our younger brother saw you at Melun. On this occasion he spoke with interest of the exercises of your pupils and of the attention you had in entrusting him with presiding over them. I won’t introduce you to him, I would not succeed; I even advise you not to speak to him about me. You will be told he is out, don't believe it, insist on your visit.”

The Robespierre family was housed on rue Saint-Honoré, near the Assomption chapel, the sister and younger brother at the front, the older brother at the back of the courtyard. Gaillard went to Maximilien’s apartment; a young man, looking at him with the most insolent air, said to him, barely having opened the door: “The representative isn’t home…”

“He may not be there for those who come to talk to him about business, but that is not my doing; I will talk to him about his family that I know a lot, you have seen me come out of his sister's apartment who is involved in state affairs no more than I am... Bring my name to the representative, he will receive me, I’m sure of it.”

The fellow did not dare refuse to carry a paper on which Gaillard had taken care to indicate himself in such a way as to be recognized, he immediately came back and gave the visitor his paper saying: “The representative does not know you,” and the door was violently slammed shut!…

The insolence of this brazen man whom Gaillard knew to be the secretary of Robespierre, son of Duplay, to whom the sister attributed the excesses of his brother, the sorrow he felt at losing the hope of saving the judges of Melun and to ensure his personal rest, all these thoughts made him very angry; he calls the young man a liar, insolent, he accuses him of deceiving Robespierre and of increasing the number of his enemies every day, all this in the loudest voice with the intention of being heard by Maximilien and lure him to one of the windows where, surely, he would have recognized him. New disappointment, no one appears and Gaillard goes back to tell Mlle Robespierre about his misadventure.

“I prepared you for it, she told him. ”No one can approach my brother unless he is a friend of those Duplays, with whom we are lodging; these wretches have neither intelligence nor education, explain to me their ascendancy over Maximilien. However, I do not despair of breaking the spell that holds him under their yoke; for that I am awaiting the return of my other brother, who has the right to see Maximilien. If the discovery I just made doesn't rid us of this race of vipers forever, my family is forever lost. You know what a miserable state we found ourselves in, reduced to alms, my brothers and I, if the sister of our father hadn’t taken us in. It’s strange that you didn’t often notice how much her husband’s brusqueness and formality made us pay dearly for the bread he gave us; but you must also have noticed that if indigence saddened us, it never degraded us and you always judged us incapable of containing money through a dubious action. Maximilien, who makes me so unhappy, has never given a hold, as you know, in terms of delicacy. Imagiene his fury when he learns that these miserable Duplays are using his name and his credit to get themselves the rarest goods at a low price from the merchants. So while all of Paris is forced to line up at the baker's shop every morning to get a few ounces of black, disgusting bread, the Duplays eat very good bread because the Incorruptible sits at their table: the same pretext provides them with sugar, oil, soap of the best quality, which the inhabitant of Paris would seek in vain in the best shops... How my brother's pride would be humiliated if he knew the abuse that these wretches make of his name! What would become of his popularity, even among his most ardent supporters? Certainly my brother is very proud, it is in him a capital fault; you must remember, you and I have often lamented the ridicule he made for himself by his vanity, the great number of enemies he made for himself by his disdainful and contemptuous tone, but he is not bloodthirsty. Certainly he believes he can overthrow his adversaries and his enemies by the superiority of his talent.”

The tenderness of this unfortunate girl for her brother was therefore very keen and very blind, she forgot that, a few moments before, she had told Gaillard, with the accent of despair and with eyes filled with tears, that death would seem preferable to the pain of seeing Maximilien dedicate his name to public execration, and yet her brother for his part had devoted mortal hatred to her since the trip she had made to Arras to collect evidence of the massacres carried out by Joseph Lebon.

“In the absence of my brother,” said Mlle Robespierre to Gaillard, would you like to try to see Couthon? He prides himself on being good for me, I will ask him to receive you, he will not refuse me, I will precede you by a quarter of an hour, he will give the order to let you in and we will exit together.”

Gaillard gratefully accepts, takes the address of Couthon who lived at n. 97 of the Cour du Manège, today rue de Rivoli, near rue du 29 Juilliet, and the next morning arrives at the indicated time.

Couthon, whose face was truly angelic, wore a white dressing gown. A child of five or six years old, beautiful as Love, was between his father's legs; he had a young white rabbit in his arms which he was feeding alfalfa. Mme Couthon and Mlle Robespierre stood in the embrasure of a window overlooking the Tuileries.

“You (vous) are,” said Couthon to Gaillard, a friend of Mlle Robespierre, you therefore have every kind of right to my interest, tell me, citizen, how can I be of use to you?”

The fine face, the entourage of innocence, the tone, the manners of good company, this care not to use tutoient when everyone else did so, convinced Gaillard that the slander had attached itself in particular to the person of this worthy M. Couthon, he promises to undeceive all those with whom the deputy had relations.

“Citizen representative, one of your colleagues, Maure, deputy for Yonne, had recalled the former judges, all very honest people, to the courts of Melun, and everyone applauded this act of justice. The popular society was offended by this, it threatened Maure that it was going to denounce him to the Convention as a supporter of Louis XVI and his family, given that these judges had adhered to the address by which the directorate of the department complained of the outrages committed against the king on the day of June 20 1792. The next day your colleague issued a decree dismissing these judges who were not yet installed, and ordered the revolutionary committee to incarcerate them. Can you please tell me by which means these unfortunate judges can escape this act of severity?”

“Admit, citizen,” answered Couthon, “that the Convention is indeed to be pitied for being forced to send as commissioners to the departments a crowd of imbeciles who make it hated and who compromise liberty... Maure doesn’t have the strength to understand that true patriots were saddened and rightly outraged by this fatal day of June 20. The aristocrats, as one said then, were delighted by it, the crimes of the people seemed to them a means of forever losing liberty and reestablishing despotism... It was a duty to rise up against the violation of the home of the first official of the the State and the bloody outrages to which it was subjected that day. I signed an address in which our indignation was expressed in the most energetic terms and I am far from repenting of it. Have the judges you are talking to me about been arrested?”

“No, citizen.”

”That’s what I suspected, they will have been warned; in fact, one is not going to prison automatically, one will have their homes sealed and perhaps not be very eager to arrest them?… Can you assure me, citizen, that these judges are honest men?”

”The most honest people in the country!”

”Well, on reflection, I was going to give you bad advice... based on the distance from Melun to Paris, this is where they will come to hide, one will find them, there is no safety in the prisons of Paris. They'd better go home, they shall be given a guard, they won't even be incarcerated... but once again, how can it be made a crime to have signed these addresses?”

“Citizen,” continues Gaillard, with great emotion, you are convinced that the signatures of these addresses have not committed a crime, you are all-powerful in the Committee of Public Safety where your opinion always prevails. Today, seventy unfortunate people are being led to the scaffold, their condemnation based on nothing other than the signing of these addresses…”

Couthon's face changed, he suddenly takes on the tiger's mask, makes a movement to grab the bell pull... Mlle Robespierre rushes at him to stop him (he was paralyzed from the legs down), turns towards Gaillard and says to him: “Save yourself!” In the confusion into which all this throws him, Gaillard takes Couthon's hat, she notices it, warns him, he runs across the apartment and reaches the stairs. He had barely gone down eight or ten steps when he heard Mlle Robespierre shouting to him: “Go and wait for me at the Orangerie.” (The courtyard of the Orangerie was located at the end of the Terrace des Feuillants where Rue de Rivoli now meets Place de la Concorde).

When Gaillard was able to think, he wondered why the various sentries posted along the Feuillants terrace had not stopped him. A glance in a mirror while picking up his hat in Couthon's salon had told him how altered his face was. Even after leaving the deputy, he did not think he was safe, he did not take four strides without wondering if he was being pursued. He has barely gone down into the courtyard of the Orangery when he goes back up onto the terrace, looking anxiously to see if his good angel was arriving. As soon as he sees her, he runs towards her, loudly asking her five or six questions at the same time without paying attention to the crowd around them. Mlle Robespierre, calmer, tells him in a low voice that she will answer him when they have reached the Place de la Révolution.

“Explain to me, please,” said Gaillard to Mlle Robespierre as soon as they were offshore, ”your haste to tell me to take flight flee and why you held back Couthon in his chair?”

“You were fooled, my dear monsieur, by the profound hypocrisy of Couthon, I was completely fooled myself; I believed your judges saved and you forever at peace like all the signatories of these addresses to Louis XVI... Couthon only showed himself to be so good-natured in order to get to know the depths of your thoughts, you fell into his trap, I could not have avoided it more than you. Your bloody and so justly deserved reproach regarding the 63 victims of today struck in the hearth, my presence, even my confidence could not have stopped his vengeance. The members of the Committee of Public Safety each have five or six men at home who are resolute at their command, because they are constantly trembling. Had he reached the bell pull, this very afternoon you would have been placed in the tumbril alongside the 63 unfortunate people you wanted to save... Fortunately, I succeeded in making him ashamed of the crime he was going to commit by immolating a friend that I had brought to his house... Will he keep his word to me? I followed your conversation very attentively, you did not say a word from which Couthon could conclude that you do not live in Paris... Return home quickly, do not follow the ordinary route out of fear that, remembering the name of the city where your judges were to sit, he sends for men to follow you on the road to Melun.” (1)

Mlle Robespierre barely gives her protégé time to thank her and does not want him to accompany her back to her house. Gaillard leaves immediately without seeing his sister or the two dismissed judges, who have taken refuge in Paris.

(1) The story of Gaillard's visit to Couthon is reproduced almost word for word by M. Lenôtre, in his Paris révolutionnaire, vielles maisons, vieux papiers, 1900, La Brouette de Couthon, p. 279.* Mr. Lenôtre draws his story from the collection of Victorien Sardou's autographs. The note appearing among these authographs which speaks of Couthon comes from Fouché's papers: it is in fact Gaillard who, at the request of his friend Fouché, recorded in writing for him the narration of his interview with Couthon. Gaillard took pleasure in often recounting to the people with whom he was in contact this scene of which he had always retained such a terrifying impression of; this is the reason why it appears today in his memoirs.

*Worth noting is that Charlotte’s identitity is kept a secret in this account, she’s simply described as ”a lady.” This account also includes the detail of Couthon’s son starting to cry and the bunny he was holding getting pushed to the floor once his father gets mad.

#charlotte robespierre #robespierre #couthon #georges couthon #frev #someone should draw this… #or just make anything of it at all since this side of charlotte is somehow never brought up by today’s historians #like why she’s SO much more fun like this… #fouché #joseph fouché #girl physically restrains a member of the cps and (allegedly) gets accused of poisoning another

[ge-nde-rr-env-y]

i played owen carvour in a production of spies in sydney, and tcb i have a confession i added a line. in the man behind the curtain reveal, owen says "if it hadn't been for my spot on aim and interest in foreign policy, i might have been an actor." i had about a month between application and audition and i was sitting on the first paragraph for so long and i got a bit bored. so i added "and you know, being blackmailed by the english" to that list. it added this manic, pained spark to the moment. fuel for the fire.

i dont know what joey thinks about owens history, but i gave him a timeline. born 1926 (nov 14th. scorpio bitch.), his fine family home destroyed in the Blitz, he enlists for some income (and maybe to escape home) at 17 in 1943, too young, but he's slick and clever enough to pass as an adult. 1945, right before the end of the war, he sees something he shouldnt have. the higher ups in a below the table deal that could ruin a lot of rich and powerful peoples lives if it reaches the wrong hands. owen carvours hands were the wrong hands. but he's a remarkable soldier, he's quick, he's a master tactician, and he's Good At Lying. hes useful. so instead of taking him out. someone says "hey kid. howd you like to be a secret agent. -also if you say no you'll die-" no choice. he'll continue to live at the behest of a governments will.

he doesnt Like being a spy, but its not the worst thing in the world. he likes the more decadent aspects, certainly, and deception not only comes naturally, but brings a sort of thrill.

he doesn't like being a spy until he meets curt mega. this part of his history is a bit blurry, but i imagine them meeting sometime near 1952 (because of the song Video Killed The Radio Star), surely on the job somewhere. curt makes spying fun. and curt is the first real thing owen has had reliably since 1943. he doesnt change, hes delightfully predictable, and despite him appearing somewhat less intelligent than owen, he has this knack for seeing straight through to owens heart. curt is daring, where owen might be intially more cautious. curt has the guts to get the two of them *into* situations, where owen has the tactician skill to get them *out*.

i think owen got comfortable. tragically, the two of them were so in sync, so reliant on each other, that he didnt see the fall coming at all.

it wasnt the fall that hurt. it was watching curt walk away. he'd always thought that if this were to happen, theyd go down together.

CHIMERA found him in the rubble, a boy who'd always been controlled, who'd never really got a chance to live a life of his own, and saw a man who was easy both to manipulate, and to empower.

they weren't aggressive about their agenda because they knew what would happen. the founder/ceo (a man i have decided is named Thomas) simply let owen recover in their facilities and let him free when he was able to leave, with an explanation of their plan, and an offer of further help should he require it.

owen broke within a month. a string of killings across europe simply attributed to an individual named The Deadliest Man Alive. CHIMERA drags owen back by the scruff of his neck.

"what the hell do you think you're doing."

"what? who are they going to arrest? owen carvours fucking dead."

its very important to me that owen wasnt brainwashed by CHIMERA. every choice has to come from him because the catharsis of him fully believing in the ideology he carries out with his chest for the first time is just delicious.

he doesnt. hate curt. i dont think. he loves curt, and he hates the institution of Espionage that forced them into this. but ultimately, that institution is so driven into curt that owen cant get what he really wants, which is to break curt out of that and have him all to himself. coldest goodbye reprise is a moment of sorrowful acceptance for both of them. owen understands that curt is always going to be a spy, no matter what, and giving up on the fantasy he had.

#spies are forever #owen carvour #curt mega #tin can bros

[5647389012]

Two-Stage Pregnancy (Part 3, Chapter 1)

Part 2.5

"So, how in God's name am I actually meant to push this baby out?"

"Just like you said. When the time comes, you push."

It was Sarah's last checkup before her due date - or, rather, before her second due date. She looked very overdue and felt every bit of it as she chatted with Doctor Kellner, her obstetrician and mentor for her over-extended pregnancy, who also sports a sizable baby bump of her own.

"Kelly, I can feel how big this head is. There's no way I can stretch that far."

"What can I say? The human body is a remarkable thing." She puts her hand on Sarah's shoulder. "Slowly. You do it slowly. You give your body lots of time to open up, as much as you can. I know, it feels impossible at first. But you do it. One step at a time, you do it."

"You'll be there?"

"I will. I know you can do this."

Their eyes meet.

"Besides, it's not like you'll be in a hurry." She offers a grin. "You'll have at least a couple of days to get that far, after all."

"God, dayyyyysss…" It wasn't hard to spot Sarah's arousal - the reddening in her cheeks, the way she pressed her thighs together - though it's not like she tried to hide it at this point. She'd read about the process before, of course, nervous at first, and then growing more and more fascinated as the "big day" drew closer.

"Also, I do have a first name. You don't have to keep calling me 'Kelly' all the time."

"I know, but I like the pet name better. It feels… closer, somehow." Her gaze shifts downwards. "Also, it looks like you're not far off from doing some pushing yourself."

"Mm-hm, just a few more weeks now and I'll be ready to bring this one's head down." Kellner's face falls for a moment, as she turns away from the other woman in her office. "Actually, I'm-" Her voice catches in her throat. "That's-" She stops again.

"What's wrong? Has something happened?"

Before she can answer, the two of them are interrupted by a buzzing at Kellner's waist. "Shoot, that's my pager, we're out of time." Doctor Kellner looks apologetic as the interruption brings her back to a more professional demeanor; her attempt at a smile doesn't quite drive the hint of sorrow from her features. "You should be good to go for next week, we can talk about me later."

Sarah gives her a concerned look.

"We will talk about me later, okay? Just, not right now." She shakes her head. "That can wait a little while, at least. You're on a tighter schedule than I am." At this she does manage to smile.

Sarah allows herself to be ushered out the door, feeling one worry diminish as another starts to grow.

-

Sarah's second due date comes a week later. Contractions wake her up just a little before her alarm - she'd skipped her medication the day before, and she can feel it starting to have an effect. There's no urgency yet - they eat breakfast, take a shower, pack their bags, all while Sarah feels the cramps slowly building, feels pressure slowly growing, feels the head starting to press down just a little.

"Mmmmm- There we go-" Sarah keeps a hand pressed between her legs, almost luxuriating in the feeling of her baby's head inside her. "Are we ready to head out?"

"Should be, yeah."

Sarah starts the drive to the hospital prepared and confident, but her courage starts to wane as the long trip drags on.

"Nnnnnh- It's-" Sarah grips the door handle tight as she feels the pressure inside her suddenly spike.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just- Haaaah- We might've left this a little too long." She takes a deep breath, doing her best to control her breathing. "I'll be alright, but there's a lot of pressure now."

Sarah pants with each contraction, struggling to just relax, to sit back and let that pressure come as each wave is just a little bit worse than the last. She feels her stomach gripping harder and harder, feels her body's urge growing more and more insistent, feels her baby's head between her legs, ready and eager to be born. She waits, panting and breathing and pressing her legs together as the miles pass by, as her labor builds and builds. Things don't get any better when she finally gets to the hospital. The staff there don't quite seem to understand her urgency (What's the rush? This was scheduled months in advance, wasn't it?). She does her best to hold on while filling out paperwork, sitting in the waiting room, going through the usual medical tests, being sternly warned not to push yet (as though she needed to be told) - it goes on and on, endless delays while she listens to nurses explain things she already knows, groaning inwardly as she wants to do nothing more than spread her legs wide and push. Finally, she manages to get to a hospital room, and she hardly has time to change into a gown before Doctor Kellner gets there as well.

"Ohhhh- Thank God you're here, Kelly. I feel like I'll go insane if I have to hold back much longer."

"Ha, it's good to see you too." Kellner returns a smile as she pulls on a pair of gloves. "You've been having contractions for a while, right? And, you're having a lot of pressure now?"

Sarah nods. "Since early this morning. And, yeah, it's pretty bad."

"I think I can guess what the answer is going to be, but I still have to ask. Do you want an epidural for this?"

Sarah can't stop a grin from creeping onto her face as she responds. "No. C'mon, Kelly, you know me better than that."

"Yeah, I figured. Hospital requirement, though. Thankfully, they made sure to soundproof the rooms here in the maternity ward."

Sarah's grin fades as she feels another cramp start to build. "Hooooooo- Lots of pressure now."

"Alright. Go ahead and get up on the bed for me."

Sarah spreads her legs wide as she feels the contraction grow.

"Are you ready to start pushing?" Despite herself, Kellner can't look away from the sight between Sarah's legs. The contraction is making the head start to bulge outwards, and she can see just the barest sliver of dark hair peeking out from her lower lips.

"Don't you- Haaaa- Don't you need to check me first, or something like that?"

"I mean, it's not like you need to dilate." Kellner trails a gloved hand along Sarah's inner thigh for a moment before gently pressing it against her labia. "Really, you'd have been fine to start pushing for a while now, but we try to be careful about these things." Kellner spreads Sarah's lips with her fingers, noticing the strings of wetness clinging to the inside. She probes two fingers into her, feeling for the position of the head as she sweeps them around inside. "Yeah, head's straight OA. Fully flexed, no rotation, no asyncliticism. Lined up ready and waiting for you to push." She keeps her fingers inside, watching with intent as Sarah's clit starts to stiffen, as her skin flushes under the questing, eager touch. "Of course, we already knew that. You just wanted to feel my fingers again, didn't you?"

"Maaaaaaybe I got a little too used to this during all those exams."

"Maybe I got a little too used to you during all those exams. Because I can-"

Sarah gasps as she feels Kellner's fingers shift inside her, feels them move just right, feels her press there more and more, feels- "Wait- Hold on just a sec- Please?" Sarah takes a moment to pull her husband's head down close to her. "You're sure you're okay with all this? With me and…" She trails off.

"'Course I am. We talked about this, didn't we?"

"I know, but-"

"It's okay. You don't need to worry. I'm not the jealous type, I promise." He pulls away just a little, and the way he grins reminds her why she married him in the first place. "Besides, this is super hot. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Good." Sarah lays her head back in relief for a moment. "We're good."

"Alright." Kellner's fingers press gently. "And you're sure you're okay too? With us taking control like this? It's not exactly the usual medical procedure-"

"Mm-hm, yeah, I'm fine-"

"I don't want to project, is all. I know this makes me want to be tied up and teased and stretched and forced to-"

"Kelly!" Sarah snaps the doctor out of her reverie. "I know. I'm the same way. I want this too." Her voice softens a little. "I appreciate you're worried, but if you don't touch me right now I'm going to crawl out of this bed and break your fucking- Nnnnnh- Aaaaaah-" She feels her resistance dissolve at the firm, insistent pressure of the fingers inside her, all too skilled for a medical professional.

"That's it, just let it feel good." Kellner slows her movements as she hears Sarah's breathing start to shift. "The next contraction should be coming soon. When it does, I want you to hold back for me. Let it build, okay? We'll make sure you're in full-blown labor, among other reasons."

Sarah agrees with a bit of a laugh.

"Good, good. Do you want the stirrups for this?"

She nods.

It takes a moment before Dave understands Kellner's insistent look, and moves to help assist her. "Down there- Yeah, there's a latch- And the other one- There you go-" Kellner helps Sarah lift her legs into place while Dave returns to supporting her from behind. "Feel that pressure? Alright, pant for me now, just like you've practiced."

Sarah's breathing quickens more and more as she feels her belly harden, doing her best to hold back the growing fullness between her legs. "Hooooo- Hoooooo- HoooOH FUCK-"

"Shhhhhh, babe." She hears Dave's voice behind her. "Just breathe. Just breathe for me. Here, squeeze my hand if you have to." She holds his hand with a white-knuckled grip, panting frantically as she tries not to bear down. "There you go, you're doing good."

"Okay- Okay- Haaaaaa-" She does her best to focus on her breathing, focus on the fingers pressing inside her, focus on anything other than her body's more and more insistent demand to bear down right now, to force her baby out come hell or high water. Bearing down. Pushing. Hard. Yeah, that sounds good right about now. She should-

"Sarah!" Kellner's voice jolts her back to awareness. "Pant for me, girl! Pant for me!" Right, that. Sarah feels her breathing again, quick and shallow, feels Kelly pressing inside her, feels herself shudder as a thumb brushes against her clit.

"Oh God- Oh my God- Okay-" Sarah's breathing steadies as she rides out the pressure, rides out the insistent fullness deep in her hips, as she lays back and breathes and welcomes Kelly's touch inside her until the contraction tapers off.

"Good, good, that was good." She hears the voice from between her legs as the hand gripping hers momentarily tightens. "I know this is hard, but you're getting good practice letting the head come on its own. This is a slow process, we need to make sure you don't push too fast and hurt yourself."

Sarah takes deep breaths to recover between the contractions.

"There's a lot of back and forth with this, letting the head come forward to stretch you for a while, then pushing it back to give your tissues a little bit of a break."

Sarah groans softly as she feels Kellner pressing against her most sensitive spots.

"We'd be doing a lot of this even if we weren't… you know… doing it like this. It's not just random, I promise."

"Okay." Sarah's head hangs forwards. "I trust you." She catches her breath for a moment. "But-" She gasps as she feels more teasing pressure on her clit. "But this isn't enough. I can't cum like this-"

"I know." Kellner's face is stern, but not cruel. "Just relax for me, okay?" Sarah feels Dave's hand tighten around hers at the same time. Did the two of them talk about this earlier? Did they plan something she isn't-

"Okay, more pressure, just like before." Sarah's thoughts are interrupted by more tightness in her belly. "Keep breathing for me, focus on my fingers and let it all come, alright?" Sarah nods again as she starts to pant, to relax, the familiar routine to tell her body to let her baby stay inside just a little longer.

"There you go, babe." Dave whispers from behind her. "You're doing amazing. You're so beautiful like this."

"It feels like a bowling ball inside me-" She grips his hand tight as the pressure builds and builds, feeling the huge, oversized head starting to press ever so slightly outwards. "Fuck! It's too big!"

"You're okay. Let all that pressure come, let that head fill you all the way." Kellner curls her fingers in just the right way, taking Sarah to the edge of orgasm and leaving her there, her lips flushed with need and dripping with arousal even as she breathes her way through her ever-more-intense labor. "You're doing so, so good for the both of us."

"Fuck- Kelly- Please- I need-" She can't decide. 'I need to push', 'I need to cum', 'I need to stop', 'I need more', and 'I need this baby to split me open right fucking now' all float through her mind, but her breath stalls before she can pick between them. In the end, all she can do is keep breathing, quick and shallow and steady, keep holding back as she feels the pressure fade.

"I know it's hard. I'm sorry." Kellner's voice pierces through the haze as Sarah rests. "It won't be like this all the time." She manages to raise her head up in interest at that phrase. "We can stall your labor while you sleep, at least. Let you get some rest during the night."

Sarah's head falls back to the bed. That's a few hours away, at least.

"Alright. You've got this." Sarah feels her husband's hot breath on her neck as she watches her belly harden again. "Just keep breathing for me. I know you can do this."

Sarah does her best to pant through the pressure as it builds, and builds, and builds some more. "Kelly, please-" She struggles to pant as she squirms in the stirrups. "Please- Inside me- Press more-" She does everything she can to think about the hand curling inside of her, rubbing against her, rather than- "Oh fuck- Please- I can't-"

"Yes you can. You will." Kellner curls her hand some more, puts more friction on Sarah's clit to give her something else to focus on. "Let it come. Don't fight it, you're doing so good."

She grits her teeth, panting with all her might to try to keep the head in just a little longer.

"There you go, let the head come just like that, let it stretch you just a little more while we wait."

"No- No- No- Please-" She moans, she gasps, her legs shake as she grips the bed with white-knuckled intensity, but, somehow, she holds on to the end.

"There you go." She feels Dave's soft touch as the contraction subsides. "That was perfect. You did so good with that. I'm so proud of you."

Doctor Kellner glances at a monitor to her side. "Yeah, you're definitely in labor." She looks perversely excited, which she almost manages to disguise. "You've definitely been in labor for a while now, too."

"Does that- Can I push now?"

Kellner shakes her head in feigned regret. "No, not yet. Sarah, I'm sorry, but I think it'd be better if we hold off for a little while longer."

"No- But-"

"I know, it's hard. But this is a big baby you've got, even for this program, and you were pretty tight down here to start with. The more 'warmup' time we can give you, the better."

She feels a firm hand on her shoulder, pressing her down into the bed. "You'll be okay. We're here for you, I promise. We've got you. I've got you."

Sarah can't help but shiver a little at his touch, his voice. "You're so beautiful like this, while you're struggling so much." He locks eyes with her even while he presses her down to the bed. "Can you hold back a little more? For me?"

She can't stop herself. She can't help it. She feels her head dip down. Then lift up again. She's nodding. Somehow, she's agreeing to this. Why is she-

"Good girl. Gooood girl." He puts a kiss to her forehead. "I love you so much."

Oh, yeah. That's why. She almost doesn't notice as her breath starts to quicken again.

"Here you go, that's it." He watches her belly harden more and more. "Can you feel that pressure?"

Sarah grips his hand as she starts to pant.

"Can you feel those fingers pressed inside you?"

She does her best to hold on tight before Kellner's movements make her twitch a little.

"Can you feel that huge head filling you up so much inside?"

She rolls her head to the side as she struggles.

"And, can you feel how much that head wants to be out of you? How much your body is just begging you to bear down as hard as you can?"

All she can do is keep panting again and again, struggling at her limit to focus on her breathing, on Kelly's fingers inside of her, on anything other than how much she wants to push with all her might and scream this head out of her. It feels like a minor miracle that she's able to hold back, gritting her teeth and clinging to the bed for dear life until she feels the tight grip on her midsection start to release.

"You're- Evil-" Sarah struggles to catch her breath as she glares up at her husband. "And you-" She fixes her gaze between her legs. "Aren't helping either."

"Sorry, sorry." Dave gives her a placating look as she recovers. "I won't be mean like that anymore. Besides, it's really supposed to be Kellner's show until she has to leave."

"Mm-hm. And I'll help you hold back until I'm- I mean, until you're ready to push."

"Here, I can help you with that." Dave helps untie Sarah's hospital gown, at this point already starting to soak through with sweat as she leans forward. She lays back on the bed, now totally undressed as her over-filled breasts heave with each breath.

"Okay, okay." Sarah settles herself back on the bed. "More pressure. I can do this. Just pant through it. Just pant through it."

She squirms on the bed when the pressure builds again, panting and struggling her way through the contraction, fighting hard to deny her body's desperate urge to give birth. They keep her like that through the next contraction, and the next, until she starts to lose count as she's teased and praised and denied while the head of her baby sits just behind her lips, demanding again and again to come into the world. She holds back as long as she can, while Kellner's all-too-skilled fingers and tongue touch all the right places in all the wrong ways, while her husband's steady embrace from behind gives her the strength to go on. They keep her panting through contraction after contraction until she's left wide-eyed and desperate, moaning and squirming under their combined touch.

"Alright, I think you've had enough for now." Kellner gives Sarah a sympathetic look. Not that it hasn't been a pure joy to watch her struggling so much, but everyone has their limit and it looks like Sarah is starting to reach hers. "You've done so good holding back for us, that was perfect. We can start to work on getting the head out now."

A look of absolute relief spreads across Sarah's face.

"You can start pushing with the next contraction, okay?" Kellner pulls out her fingers - now dripping with wetness - and poises her hands on Sarah's lips, bulging hugely with the head inside, flushed and glistening with moisture, parted just enough to show off a fat teardrop of dark hair with her stiff, ready clit peeking out the top.

"Wait-" It takes Sarah a moment to realize the omission. "You didn't- You haven't- I didn't get to cum…"

"No, Sarah, not yet. I need you to do some pushing for me first. I'll keep my hands down here just in case, but I want every bit of that work to go into helping you stretch down here, okay? Give me long, hard pushes, to really get this head moving."

"There's- There's another one coming."

"Alright. You'll be okay, we're both here with you." Doctor Kellner turns to Dave. "Can you help me adjust these stirrups? That's it, like that- Wider- Even wider- Keep going-" She watches Sarah carefully, until a wince starts to cross her face. "Come on- Liiiiittle more- There we go."

"Here, give me your hands." Dave settles himself back behind Sarah, holding her arms tight behind her as her breathing starts to deepen.

"Oh fuck- Okay- Oh fuck- Here it comes-"

"Perfect, let it all come. Put it all right down here, right where you can feel my fingers. All of it, I need you to give me the hardest push you can. It's going to burn so bad, but I know you're strong, I know you can do this for me. Take all that pressure and give me a hard, hard push."

"Nnnnnn- Fuck- Rrrrrrr-" Sarah curls forward and bears down, and Kellner watches the dark slit between her legs start to slowly spread wider.

"Good, good, come on-"

"Nnnnnng- GhhhhhHAAAAAA-"

"And breathe, come on, breathe for me-"

"Oh God- It burns- Oh God-"

"And push again, right down here-"

"HAAAAAAAAA- AAAAAAAAH- FUCK-"

"All the way, come on, all the way to the end-"

"Nnnnnnnnha- Haaaaaa-"

"There you go, that's it, go ahead and rest now."

Sarah gasps for air as she falls back onto the bed, trembling just a little as she feels the head start to ease back inside her. "Oh fuck…" Sarah reaches a trembling hand down between her legs. "Fuck, that's huge-" She probes at the bulge between her legs. "Did the head even move?" She lets out a sigh as her fingers start to graze across her clit.

"Mm-hm. I saw it." Kellner gently moves Sarah's hand back to her thigh. "It's just a big head, that's all." She puts a finger of her own to Sarah's clit, thrilling at the sight of her quiet frustration. "I know it's hard, but you need to really stretch right now." Her finger rubs a gentle circle on her clit just once, drawing out a soft moan of pleasure, then a softer whine of need.

"Kelly- Please-" Sarah's clit is stiff and eager under the sparing, teasing touch. "I need more-" Sarah can feel her need building and building, even more so now as she feels the head starting to stretch her.

"Give me some hard pushes first, Sarah. You can feel the next one coming, right? Good. Push right into here for me again- That's it, perrrrrfect-"

Sarah pulls her chin to her chest and bears down again, gripping tightly to her husband's hand as she feels her opening start to burn even more. "Nnnnnnnnn- Nnnnnnng-"

"There you go, come on, show me that head-" Kellner spreads her labia gently with her fingers as she bears down. "Push hard for me."

"Nnnnnn- Aaaaaaah- Fuck, it burns!"

"I know, you're okay, you're stretching so good. Push one more time for me now."

"HNNNN- NNNG- GHHHH-"

"Perfect, open niiiice and wide- Little more, come on-"

"GAAAAAH- HAAAAAA-"

"That's it, good, you can rest now."

Sarah falls back against her husband, gasping for air as she lays against his chest. She can feel a dark oval of hair peeking out between her lips, the fierce burn slowly fading as her tight opening starts to pull the head back inside her.

"That's it! You're doing it! That's your baby coming down!" Kellner can't keep the excitement out of her voice as she guides Sarah's hand down to feel.

"Haaaah- God, that's big-"

"Mmm-hm. You're opening up so good though, don't worry." Kellner presses again on Sarah's clit, drawing out another moan. Sarah squirms as she bears down again, but Kellner doesn't pull back, pressing, stroking with her fingers as Sarah twitches beneath her. The head grinds its way forward, parting Sarah's lips, making her burn just a little bit more with each passing moment.

"Kelly- Nnnnh- I can't-" Sarah gasps at the intense sensation, dragging her right to the edge before she feels Kellner finally relent. "I was so close-"

"I know. That'll be soon. Push hard with this next one okay? Really show me that head."

Sarah nods, mustering as much confidence as she can as she feels her belly hardening again. She feels Kellner's fingers tracing almost reverently along her lips before she tucks in her chin and bears down hard, pushing as much as she can as she feels her body urging her on, stretching more and more as that huge, hard bulge comes forward between her legs.

"That's it, perfect! Spread those lips for me!"

She bears down again, feeling herself burn more and more as she struggles with the huge size of her baby. Kellner's fingers trace along her lips as she watches the head move forward bit by bit, fighting for every inch of progress as she feels her tight opening spreading wider and wider.

"Good, good. Stretch for me, Sarah, stretch niiiice and wide, there you go."

It feels unstoppable, inexorable, as the hard, bulging dome forces its way downward between her legs, the burn growing fiercer and fiercer even as she can't help but add fuel to the fire, can't help herself from bearing down hard, her legs starting to shake as each moment of effort makes her struggle just that much worse. "Kelly- It's too much- I can't-"

She's cut off by another moan as she feels Kellner's pressure on her clit. "Shhhhhh. Yes you can. Yes you can. Push one more time for me, okay? One more hard push, that's all."

She couldn't hold back even if she wanted to as she drives the head forward again, as she feels herself stretch farther and farther, as she grabs onto her husband for support, as she grits her teeth and bears down with everything she has, as she cries out in pain feeling her baby force her open even more. She can feel Kellner's fingers pressing right where she's most sensitive, bringing her closer, closer, even as she struggles to hold it together feeling the fire between her legs.

I know, I know. I need more, Sarah, I need even more of that burn from you. With this next one, I need you to put your chin to your chest and push with everything you have, okay?

Sarah can't help it, she can feel Kellner's merciless touch, feel the steady, expert friction on her clit, dragging right to the edge and pausing to hold her there as she gives in to her body, as she pulls back her legs and shakes and screams and forces her lips to spread wider and wider, stretching open unbearably far for her baby. She cries out again, at the huge size of the thing she's struggling to push out, that she's spent the last year growing inside her, bigger and bigger, to the razor's edge of what she can fit through her body. She lays back in utter surrender to the fire between her legs, to the terrible pressure deep in her hips, to her body's endless need to push and push- she throws her head back and cries out again as Kellner finally lets her tip over the edge, as she forces her baby down with all her might, as she gives everything she has to feel even more of that stretch before her orgasm ends, as she holds on to her husband for dear life, shuddering and pushing and gasping her way through the last of her contraction.

"There you go. I've got you." Dave holds her from behind as she recovers her breath, pressing her head back against his chest as she comes down from pleasure and pain. "You're okay. You did so good there."

Kellner sits with them a moment, just being there in case Sarah needs her. She watches as her breathing stills, as Dave slowly coaxes her head out from the cradle of his arms. However, much as she'd love to stay like this forever, there are still other patients at this hospital. "Will you two be okay to take care of things yourselves for a while?"

Dave confirms he does, and Sarah gives a thumbs-up with an arm that wavers only a little.

"Alright, I should be able to check on you again in a couple of hours." She glances backward as she makes her way out of the room. "I know I'll be looking forward to it."

-

Later that morning:

"That's it, come on, push for me."

Sarah hauls back her legs and bears down, red-faced and grunting with the effort as she feels her lips start to burn again, as she feels the head come forward once more. She holds the push as she feels herself spreading apart, a dark oval of hair growing slowly wider and wider, stretching her opening more and more until she feels the head press up against a hard barrier between her legs.

"You're okay, I've got it. Just push."

Sarah gasps for breath before pulling her legs back again, putting just as much into this effort as the last as she feels the head press against the unyielding obstacle of her husband's hands. The head doesn't move even at the peak of her exertion, while she grits her teeth and curls around her belly, giving in fully to the unbearable pressure between her hips. The huge mass of her baby stays stuck firmly in place, but she's long past caring at this point.

"That was so good." Dave watches the head slowly start to recede as Sarah lets herself fall back onto the bed. "You're doing so good. Do you want to slow this down some?"

"No, I just- I need to push right now. Hard."

"Alright, then. Push all you need to, I'll be here." He starts to massage her lips gently with his fingers, and a satisfied smile starts to spread across her face.

"Ohhhhhh, thank youuuu…" Sarah starts to relax back against the pillows. "That's- Yesssssss, right theeeeeeere-" She throws her head back as his fingers drift towards her clit, rubbing slowly to "help her relax" even more. She closes her eyes and breathes deep, letting herself float for just a moment, until-

"Next one?" Dave watches her face start to shift.

"Mm-hm." Sarah grips behind her knees. "Can you get ready?" She feels his hands cup over her opening. "Okay- Nnnn- Gaaaaah- FUCK-" Sarah feels the pressure build and build, feels the huge mass inside sliding down just a little, tucks in her chin to bear down once again.

"Perfect, perfect. Pushing so hard for me."

The burn between her legs grows quickly, as the head forces her lips wider and wider, stretches her more and more before Dave presses his hands to hold it there. She feels a thrill inside her as she feels the head stopped in its tracks- something inside her wants her to bear down even more as she knows the head won't move.

"Good, come on, that's so good. Let it all out for me."

Sarah pushes again, with everything she can give. She feels the head sitting between her legs, feels the unbearable, unimaginable fullness that only a three-months-overdue child can bring. She pulls her legs wide and pushes and pushes, shoving every bit of that fullness down and out against his hands, struggling again and again to try to bring her child into the world against the unyielding barrier keeping it inside her. She keeps up the futile effort until the contraction ends, gasping for breath as she lets her legs fall back down.

"That was just perfect, you did so good there." His fingers find her clit again, as she lays back to rest.

"Mmmmm- Keep doing that- Please."

He keeps up the pressure as he watches the head slowly recede. "Did I ever tell you how much I love watching you push?"

"You have. Multiple times." Still, her mouth twitches into a smile.

"Well, I'm going to tell you again anyways." He steps up the pressure on her clit, and hears Sarah let out a small gasp. "I just can't get enough of it. Seeing how hard you're working. Especially when we're holding the head in like this." He can't help but grin at that.

"I knowwwww- Nnnh-" Her breathing starts to shift as she feels pleasure building in her core. "Why do you think I've been pushing so hard?"

"Are you close?"

"I'll have to push first."

"Alright." His fingers still yet again, and Sarah stops herself from letting out a quiet whine of disappointment. "Push hard for me. Show me how much you want this head to come."

Sarah pulls back her legs, breathing deep and preparing to-

"And don't worry. I'll help you feel good too."

"Oh FUCK-" Sarah cries out as she feels his lips close over her clit. "Okay- Nnnh- FUCK- Just- PUSH-" Sarah writhes slightly in the bed as she feels the burn between her legs, feels her baby stretch her lips, feels herself getting closer and closer, making every other sensation just that much more intense. "Oh, God- I can't-" She has to. She can. She pushes again, feeling his tongue grinding against her clit, shoving her baby down against his hands over her entrance. She's so close, bearing down with everything she has, when she feels the head shift just a little. When she feels herself slowly, so slowly being forced open even more, when she feels the burning, stretching between her legs spike to a fresh, urgent intensity. The new, bright pain tips her over the edge, makes her cum, hard and sudden, severs her last vestiges of control as she gives in more than she thought possible, bearing down with wild, uncontrolled, furious effort. She screams again and again as she calls on every fiber of her being to struggle and fight and push to try to force her child out into the world. Her legs shake and her vision narrows, her thoughts recede to pressure, stretching, pushing again and again as she feels the head stonewalled against her husband's hands, feels his gentle tongue still lapping at her clit. She keeps up her titanic, desperate effort until the last traces of her contraction fade. For all of her struggle, though, she feels the head start to recede once again when she finally lays back on the bed.

Sarah feels a presence detach itself from the foot of the bed and press itself to her side. She feels a hand entwine in hers, feels her head tucked underneath a chin, pressed against a warm chest. "You okay?" The voice rumbles in her ears.

She takes a few deep breaths before answering. "Mm-hm." She tries to look upward for a moment before tucking her head back where it feels warm and safe.

"Good. Good. You did so good there, that was amazing."

After a little bit, Sarah regains some awareness. "You let the head out more? When I was pushing?"

"Yeah." The voice sounds a little sheepish.

"I thought Kelly said not to do that."

"Yeah. It was only a little, though. And, she also said to have fun with this, didn't she? I figured that took precedence."

"God. You-" She tries to throw a weak punch with her free arm, but it doesn't connect.

"We did talk about all this, don't worry. You'll be okay. I promise."

"Okay."

The two of them hold each other close, the silence lasting until the cramping in her belly reminds Sarah that she's still in labor. "I think- I think I'll take this slow for a while now."

"Alright, just do what you need to." He moves back to the end of the bed. "I'll be right here with you."

#birth kink #birth denial #fpreg #my own writing #two stage pregnancy

[greatstormcat]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!reader drabble that’s been hanging in my WIPs from a while.

MDNI 18+, smut below the line

Simon Mother Fucking Riley. Leuitenant Riley. The Ghost.

An absurdly arrogant prick.

The Deadliest Man in the SAS. The Man With No Past. A Dead Man Walking.

Strutting around like he owned the place.

Fearless Leader. Loyal Team Mate. Dedicated Friend to a Lucky Few.

Oh how you hated him so much… or did you?

You must have stared a little too long, watched him a little too closely, from across the Medical Bay. Soap nudges your arm and chuckles low in his throat.

“No point lining over that one. You might think you heard a heart pumping in his chest, but its actually a brick on a rope swinging against his ribcage,” he warns you.

Try not to think about him, you tell yourself.

You saw him in the pub, alcohol weakening your inhibitions. No, that was a lie, it vapourized them. That’s the only explanation for why you had sauntered on unsteady feet over to his table, like a newborn deer staggering towards a wolf, and stood there smiling at him. The rest of the taskforce had fallen silent, preparing to enjoy the slaughter that was surely about to happen.

“Buy you a drink?” You’d asked him, a lopsided smile on your face. He had lifted his bourbon to his lips, uncovered for the brief moment it took to take a sip. Your eyes focused onto the tip of his tongue as it swiped across his lip to collect the burning, smokey liquid and you wanted nothing more than to taste it on his lips.

“Got one, thanks,” he replies dismissively. The other eyes at the table watch you, curious to see if you’d push any further with him, but you left feeling deflated. You didn’t notice how his eyes followed you for the rest of the night as you wallowed in your sorrow.

After that night, you found the feeling of being watched followed you around the base, however. In the mess hall his eyes lingered on you. He found excuses to be in the Med Bay when you were on duty, bringing in injured recruits or coming in with aches and pains he had been ignoring for years.

Simon Riley became an ever present shadow in your peripheral vision that you could not shake. But, if you looked too hard, or tried to approach him, the shadow dissolved instantly. You couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t get near him, he was always just out of reach.

Until the day he disappeared completely. The Taskforce were deployed for four months and things settled down for you once again. You might have the odd dream about a shadowy figure stalking you through the base, but that could have been anxiety, fear of someone dying, anything. The fact you woke up with soaked underwear, your clit throbbing after your body reached release without being touched, that wasn’t you obsessing over him.

When he returned it was like a storm tore through your world. A terrible specter reeking of smoke and death dragged you to your room, grasping hands and hazy thoughts, hot breath against your face but his lips hidden behind his mask.

You throw yourself at him shamelessly, letting him do what he wants, how he wants. Your blood pounds in your ears as you ride the endless high the feel of his slick skin against yours gives you.

“Why can’t I get your goddamn face outta my head?” He rasps into your ear through his balaclava, his hips slamming against your backside brutally. The sheets soaked with sweat and other fluids below you, the results of the three orgasms Ghost had already dragged from you, and he shows no sign of stopping yet. His thrusts are brutal, punishing, as he fucks your tender and bruised hole.

“Even when I’m away from you,” he grunts, “I can’t get you out of my mind.”

You whimper as another hot coil tightens in your abdomen, muscles clenching around his length and gripping him so tight he groans. Teeth grip your neck, the fabric of his mask giving some reprieve but still enough to bruise the delicate flesh and make you whimper.

“How did you do it?” He grunts. “You’ve got me in a chokehold.”

It feels like hours before he collapses to the bed, spent and heaving in exhausted, urgent breaths. In the darkness he pulls you tight, fingers digging possessively into your tired body and refusing to release you.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’ve done to me, but your mine now and I’m not letting you go.”

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