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halcyone-of-the-sea · 7 months

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Hi, I just found your blog, and I love your Simon's fics! I was wondering if i could please request something where Reader and Simon had broken up bc he thought he put her in danger. After a few months, he comes to her after a mission and they spend the night but he leaves before she wakes up thinking hes doing whats best (and all that angsty jazz 🥲🤭) . A few weeks after she finds out shes pregnant and decides to take on her own, as reader thinks simon wouldnt care. But maybe one of the guys see her heavy preggo and tell simon, and hes fuming and super protective mode is on.

Sorry if it is too specific and for the terrible english. I just have this idea, and i dont think i can picture it right. Anyway, thanks for reading this and for your good work on your fics 💗 hope you have a lovely day

—Digging Gaze

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞

You knew it was the effects of a less-than-gentle breakup, but you should have at least cursed him out before you let him have his way with you on the living room couch. You’d woken up back in bed, alone, and had gotten dropped back to where you had been weeks earlier—stuck in the throws of confusion and hurt.

Simon had left you, and he never gave you a reason.

A part of you was heated; pissed off and feeling betrayed by the insult, yet, the rest of you knew that Simon needed to have his reasons—he always did. Even if you didn’t agree with them, and you knew he tended to look at life with a glass-half-empty type of glance.

So that left you here.

You were pregnant.

You’d found out two weeks after you’d slept together for that last time, your cheeks still hot from the memory and your fingers clutching the plastic of a test.

Pregnant.

It had been a shock, a deep panic. The both of you had been reckless. Stupid. And while you had stared at those two pink lines, you felt a sinking in your gut akin to a drowning ship. Should you tell him? It would be proper, of course.

But you don’t think you can face him again after you’d awaken to an empty bed—as if your entire relationship had only been about sex and not the deep nights of confessions and soft brushes of skin. You knew Simon Riley better than he probably knew himself.

And you wouldn’t put this on him.

At seven months, you couldn’t walk as much as you could before—and you would huff for breath as you went up the stairs to change the sheets—but who else could do it but you? Shopping also fell to you, and so, you pushed a large cart around and packed the metal basket with cravings and necessities. That was when you fell to a familiar face.

“Johnny?” You ask, blinking.

The Scot pauses, turning. His brows furrowed for a moment before a kind smile peeled his lips back.

“Hen!” He comes closer, laughing. “Well, I haven’t seen you in a good minute, then. What have you been up to in all—”

The man freezes at the sight of your stomach, jaw going slack as you fight an internal war with yourself to say pleasantries and leave.

“Hell,” Johnny clears his throat. “I guess you’ve been doin’ a great deal.”

You sigh, shaking your head softly. “Thanks, Johnny.”

“I’m just joking, Little Lady.” The man laughs and waves a hand. “Who’s the lucky man then? I’ll have to meet him one of these days.”

Your face blanks and your lips snap shut in an instant.

Blue eyes wait for an answer as the silence laps over itself. Slowly but surely, the realization dawns on his face in a tight pull of horror.

“You can’t tell him,” you interrupt his tight gasp. “Not a peep, MacTavish, you hear?”

“What the fuck,” he breathes at you, hand coming up to his mouth as he glances down at your swelling bump. “Holy hell.”

“Johnny,” you snap, his eyes jerk back to you.

“It’s bloody Ghost’s—”

“You can’t,” you growl, coming closer, “tell him.”

“What do you mean I can’t tell him,” Johnny hisses under his breath, looking at the people passing by and lowering his tone. “You’re pregnant and he doesn’t know!”

“That’s the point,” you ease out, exasperated and feeling drained already. Jesus, you needed to go lay down—your back was killing you. “Johnny,” you breathe, growing softer as you reach out a hand and put it to his arm. He grips it and holds on, looking incredibly concerned. “He doesn’t need to know, okay? That’s a lot of stress on him, and you know what he does for work. Even worrying about me was hard on him, what do you think a child would do?”

“You can’t think like that,” the Scot mutters. “He can help—what, you mean to tell me you plan to do this by yourself?” It isn’t malicious how he says it; Johnny’s worried about you. Incredibly. “Hen, no,” he shakes his head. “No, you can’t.”

“I can, Johnny,” you frown, dread filling your heart. “And I will.”

In the future, you really had to take into account Johnny’s flapping lips when under the spell of alcohol. Maybe you had enough faith in him to watch himself for the last little while of your pregnancy as he had into the latter half of the eighth month.

And then three firm knocks were at your door, and when you opened it, you were face to face with a painted balaclava and frazzled brown eyes.

Those eyes immediately snap down, and not even a word is uttered to your face until then.

The both of you are stone-still. Frozen. Dead to all else.

You swear it was hours of this—standing in the doorway with Simon’s fingers stiff in his pockets and his chest not even moving in a pulse or flare of his lungs. He doesn’t even blink.

“How far along?” His voice is monotone. A low drone in the ringing of your ears.

Damn that Scot.

“Eight and a half,” you say quietly.

Brown eyes shift up to yours. Simon stares, and you see his jaw clench under his balaclava, his shoulders moving. Again a long pause.

“When’s the next appointment—”

“It’s a girl.” You see his eyelids peel back and halt there, watching you. “In case you care to stick around and see her.”

Cruel perhaps, but it was nothing short of how he acted while leaving you.

Simon’s hidden face is slack, stuttering silently for a moment as the light fades outside.

“Didn’t…didn’t know,” he grunts out, blinking quickly.

“I know you didn’t,” you utter. “That was the point, Simon.”

“Johnny told me ‘bout it, didn’t believe him.” His brown eyes swirl, breaking. “Thought you’d mention it if you were.”

“You left,” you breathe. “Why would I reach out to someone that did that to me.”

“M’sorry, I-I don’t…” Simon clears his throat, looking away. His eyes are glossy, fingers moving out of his pockets so his twitching hands can splay out. “Could have explained, but I didn’t know how, Love. I’m not…this isn’t…”

Words fail him just like his ability to explain his emotions. Part of him was angry—angry that you’d gone all this time without reaching out when he could have helped.

A daughter.

But he was afraid, as well. Terrified. You were in the right and he knew it. Simon didn’t know the first thing about being a father…but then again, you didn’t know how to be a mother, either.

This was new territory.

“Marry me,” Simon pushes out with a quick force of breath.

“Wh—,” you choke on air. “What?”

“Let me make it up to you, yeah?” Gloved hands move at his sides, eyes honest but still shiny. “Wasn’t thinking—my fault and I can’t go on if I don’t know you’re safe.” He licks at the corner of his mouth. “...Both of you. Thought leaving would make the best sense, but I was…fucking hell. M’sorry.”

“Simon, there are many more ways other than marriage.” Your anger wasn’t something that could be washed away that easily, even if your heart fluttered at the idea and his apology.

You had more self-respect than that.

“Let me fix this,” he whispers, leaning closer.

Your hand rests over your stomach, staying there as the minutes draw. Simon waits, nervous and his fingers tap on his thigh. You know he’s afraid. You know he’s nervous about what he could bring home from work, even if those are only his paranoia talking in his ear like a demon.

You frown.

You huff.

And you open the door wider.

“The sheets need changing in my room. Get on it.”

The man says nothing before he enters the house and slips off his boots; disappearing into the linen closet.

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cheesecakethots · 9 months

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“Whore.”

You could’ve sworn the teacup in your hands cracked a little from how hard you’re gripping it. If you were Illumi, it would’ve shattered into a fine powder by now. But you’re not, which makes you susceptible to being called such things.

They’re at it again. You’re unsure as to what you’ve done to upset some of the butlers and maids, but god do they not like you. No matter. You hate everyone in this stupid boring ugly manor anyway. Huh. Maybe that’s why they hate you, too.

It must’ve been a shock to see Illumi of all people one day bring home his future wife. One he never cared to mention to anyone else beforehand, and one that was still kicking and screaming over his shoulder.

You’re not really sure how long you’ve been here. Months? A year now? However long it’s been, it didn’t take anytime at all to realise that maybe you’re not as safe here as Illumi swears you to be. His mother most definitely hates you, but, oh well, she’s never really tried anything, as far as you know.

The help started muttering things when Illumi wasn’t around, things that hurt more than you wanted to admit. When you didn’t go running off to Illumi at the first few instances of it, it got worse, as though they knew you would never tell him about it.

First off, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being your saviour when someone says mean things to you. Secondly, you may hate these assholes, but you have a conscience.

Only last week Illumi came into your shared bedroom, absolutely drenched in blood, asking if you could shower together. You quickly found out that whoever he had been torturing wasn’t dead yet, and he still had more to do.

Thinking about what Illumi does to people he doesn’t care about, those he’s only hurting for a job, makes you shiver at the thought of him actually harming someone who did him, or you, wrong. But, despite your mercy on them, this time you’re considering just telling him. Only a little.

You’ve had a notably stressful day, being pranced around by his mother who’s insistent on ‘training’ you to be the perfect wife for her son. Her explaining to you that the family expects at least six children from you both had you rushing to the bathroom to vomit.

Then you ran into his father, on your way back to your room. He doesn’t seem to actively dislike you, but he scares the absolute shit out of you. The man seems to think you’re some house pet rather than an actual person with thoughts and feelings, but you suppose that’s only a modicum better than wanting you dead.

You also bumped into Illumi’s grandfather. You’re not sure if you can bring yourself to hate him, but you do hate the look of pity in his eyes whenever he sees you. Sometimes he’ll save you from a lecture Illumi’s mother is giving you, so he’s nice in that regard. He’d never free you, though, so he’s just another kidnapper you can’t become friendly with.

You eventually got back to your room, expecting a nice nap before being forced to attend family dinner, only to find Illumi had gotten back earlier than expected. You cringed at how hungry he was, and not for food, but just allowed him to do as he wished. You were too tired to argue. After he was done, he seemed to take note of how quiet and exhausted you were. Too bad, dinner time. You hated dinner times more than anything else.

You ate the admittedly lovely food in pure silence, but quickly became sick to your stomach at hearing Illumi and his mother discuss the prospects of you becoming pregnant. You didn’t eat anymore after that. You’re pretty sure his brother, Milluki, made some comment about you that Illumi didn’t like, which explains why his wrist got snapped in half a few seconds later.

Illumi tried spoon feeding you when noticing how full your plate was, but you managed to convince him that you weren’t hungry. That got you another lecture from his mother about how you’ll soon be eating for two. You were tempted to tell her that if you ever got pregnant you’d throw yourself into Mike’s jaws, but managed to refrain.

After that, you finally got to go to bed. It wasn’t something you were looking forward to anymore; you struggled to sleep when Illumi was home because he’d spend the majority of the night just staring at you.

“Can I go outside?”

You don’t remember why you blurted it or where the thought came from, but you remember the confused blink Illumi gave in response.

“Um.. just for.. ten minutes? O-Or five..? I just want to sit in the garden by myself for a bit… If not, it’s alright..”

You hated how pathetic you sounded, unsure as to what Illumi was thinking when he stared at you with that expressionless face.

“Alright.”

“What?”

“Would you like me to ask a maid to bring you out a cup of tea?”

You didn’t really think about his words too much, just happy you got something your way for once, and nodded rather enthusiastically. You should’ve said no.

The first few minutes of being in the garden, sat on the bench and allowing the cool nights breeze to settle on your skin had you relaxing for the first time in a while.

“Your tea, mistress.”

Oh. It was one of the ones you were sure hated you, and behind him was another. Oh, well. You took the tea from his hands, thanking them nonetheless.

It was much more bitter than you liked it, but you didn’t complain. You didn’t really want tea in the first place. They didn’t leave, but you didn’t complain. Illumi probably asked them to watch over you, maybe to make sure you didn’t try to run. It’s alright, you still have a nice view to relax with.

“Whore.”

Your eyes widen a little, and your grip on the cup increases. They continue muttering amongst themselves, but you catch small, demeaning phrases that you’re certain are aimed at you.

Why are you a whore? You’d never even had sex before you met Illumi, and if you had, it wouldn’t be their business. You’re hardly allowed to interact with anyone other than who Illumi allows you to. Where would you have the chance to sleep around? The insult doesn’t make much sense.

That’s what you tell yourself, despite the fact that your shoulders and hands are shaking and you feel something cold and wet running down your cheeks.

Shit.

You put the cup on the floor, hands moving to cover your face and wipe away any evidence of tears. Illumi hated when you cried.

Why are you still crying? What they said doesn’t make any sense. Stop crying, enjoy the view. You don’t have long left before you have to go back inside.

You’re still crying. You don’t notice that it’s gone eerily silent aside from your own muffled sobs, too busy working on shutting yourself up.

“[Name].”

Shit. Shit!

He’s been sat next to you for god knows how long now, and you didn’t even realise. God, this sucks.

“Why are you crying?” Illumi asks, and you can feel him move closer to you on the bench.

“I-I’m not,” you say, a hand still covering your eyes. What excuse do you give? If you say hay fever will he never let you out in the garden again? If you say you have a cold, will he keep you inside your bedroom for a few weeks? Months?

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him staring at you.

“Would you like to stay outside for a bit longer?”

Oh.

“Ye-Yeah. Y-Yes please,” you eventually reply, gulping down another sob.

He doesn’t leave, but you’re less bothered by his presence than usual. Despite it being… him, it’s not horrible to have some company, even though you’d never admit it out loud.

You’re not sure how long you sit outside before he stands, prompting you to do the same. Neither of you say anything, not until you reach your bedroom and Illumi tells you in a tone softer than you’d usually hear from him that he has something he must do, so you’ll be sleeping alone tonight.

You turn to go to bed, but he grabs your wrist. He doesn’t look at you for a moment, seemingly considering something. Then, he stiffly leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead rather robotically. Sometimes you wonder if he is a robot, it really would explain a lot.

The kiss ends soon after it begins.

“Get some rest. You look bad.”

You huff a little, but can’t bring yourself to actually be offended due to the thinly veiled concern in his tone.

The sleep you get is better than you expected. Maybe not having a mass murderer eyeing you up while you try and rest is a reason for that.

Illumi doesn’t show up for the entirety of the next day, which is a little strange. He likes seeing you off in the morning, giving you a kiss before he departs - you’re certain he copied it from a romance movie you used to enjoy watching from time to time. You don’t question his absence too much, you don’t exactly enjoy his company, after all.

The day you have is better than the last. Illumi’s mother seems to be a bit less of a bitch than usual. That’s a win in your book.

It doesn’t take long for you to be back in your warm bed, wrapped up in covers and drifting off to sleep.

You wake up to the feeling of something wet hitting the tip of your nose, and quiet breathing above you.

“Are you awake?”

You are now. It’s pitch black in the room, but you can make out Illumi looming over, his hair framing around you like some makeshift cage.

Still sleepy, you groan a little, “Illumi? What… time is it?”

Something wet hits the bed.

“2:57 AM.”

Huh. You breathe in through your nose. Illumi absolutely reeks. Metallic, is it? You’re not sure it’s the best idea to comment on it.

“Oh. Okay.”

Another drip of something onto the blanket. He doesn’t seem to be in the talking mood.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“… Yes.”

Another.

You gulp. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t think so.”

Another drip, this time it hits your arm.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes narrow in the darkness.

“No.”

The silence is deafening. Your hands clutch onto the end of the blanket. He leans impossibly closer, and the stench of whatever is on him becomes all to familiar. He’s smelt like it before, but never this strong.

“How long were the help bothering you?”

“Since I got here.” There’s little point in trying to lie about it now.

“If you hide something from me again I’ll break three of your fingers.”

A little specific, but the threat certainly does the job.

“Okay. I’m… sorry.” You’re not.

Finally, he pulls away, eyes still trained on your face.

“Go to sleep.”

You don’t. You’re certain that you can’t, at least not for tonight. Especially not after hearing him turn the shower on, and after he’s done leave the room once more.

Instead, you sit and stare at the ceiling, and wonder if any of those in the basement will even have three fingers left of them, by the time he’s done.

#tw yandere #tw.yandere #yandere #yanderecore #yandere illumi zoldyck #yandere illumi x reader #yandere illumi #yandere hxh #yandere hxh x reader #tw implied noncon #implied noncon #tw noncon #tw vomit #tw vomit mention #tw angst #tw pregnancy mention #tw pregnancy

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emthimofnight · 1 month

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you’ve given us so much delicious “sonadow as cute dads” food but i was wondering. do you have any “blazamy as cute moms” headcanons or stories you can share 👀

BLAZAMY BE UPON YE

#answered asks #my art #blazamy #fankid au #blaze the cat #amy rose #amy the hedgehog #amy rose the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sth #camellia the cat #thistle the hedgehog #mentioned #sketches #tw pregnancy #blaze #amy #sonic

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whotfelsewantedtobelynnyx · 3 months

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Of all the theories as to how Carmilla and her daughters found eachother in Hell (adoption, reuniting after they died, one or all three being Hellborn, ect;), I think my personal favorite is the one where Carmilla was either pregnant when she died or later gave birth to a child she miscarried when she was alive.

But whether or not that’s true, one of my favorite crack theories/headcanons about Carmilla being pregnant in Hell is how absolutely weird the other Overlords would be about it- because let’s be real, they would absolutely be weird about it. Maybe supportive and weird, but weird.

Zestial, nervously following Carmilla around: My darling. My own heart. I beg of thou, please, for just a moment.

Carmilla, still stubbornly walking around in her ridiculously sharp shoes: I’M FINE.

Zestial, who’s been trying to get her to sit down or at least change her shoes for over an hour: 0,_0

Rosie, crouched at her side with a glass of something red and questionable: I’m telling you, honey, just try this. It’ll cure that morning sickness in a jiffy.

Carmilla, curled up on her bathroom floor: …it disturbs me that I’m nauseous enough to actually be considering this.

Zestial comes to her rescue and shoos Rosie out to go make her some (GINGER) tea before Carmilla can do something she’ll regret.

Alastor, gazing suspiciously: Why on earth is your abdomen moving like that? Is something trying to break out?

Carmilla, too exhausted to deal with this: That movement is my baby kicking, Alastor.

Alastor: Pardon? You mean to tell me that one can see that on the outside? Eugh.

Carmilla, glaring at him: You are so lucky you’re not worth getting up for.

- Rosie insists on throwing her a baby shower. Vox and Alastor get kicked out for fighting and are forced to put together the IKEA furniture for the nursery as punishment.

- I seriously doubt this lot can build and work an ultrasound machine, so something like this is likely.

Carmilla, slowly coming to after giving birth: Mmmh…?

Rosie, happily bouncing one baby in her arms: Oh good, she’s up! Congratulations, sweetie. You have two beautiful daughters 🥰

Carmilla: ….

Zestial, who’s gently cradling the other: Carmilla…? Is something the matter?

Carmilla: …there’s really two of them. I thought I was hallucinating.

BONUS:

Fun fact- some scientists say cats have sensitive enough hearing that they can hear babies’ heartbeats within their mother’s bodies.

Husk, staring at Carmilla:

Carmilla, who’s still processing that she’s pregnant and hasn’t begun telling anyone else: …is something wrong?

Husk, ears bristling slightly: h o w m a n y h e a r t s d o y o u h a v e ?

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 2 months

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TW: Yandere; Implied Kidnapping; Forced Breeding Kink.

You know how in the punishments scenes, the yandere always goes "For each spank you fail to count, that's 10 more."

Now imagine a yandere with a massive breeding kink who warns you with a huge grin on his face that for each established rule of his that you break, it adds up one more baby to your tab.

You think he's all bark, no bite. That he's bluffing with you, scare you into submission.

But by the end of your first year with him, the yandere casually reminds you during dinner that you owe him 7 babies.

6 babies actually, he corrects himself.

Baby no. 1 is already on the way.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere x reader #tw: yandere #tw: kidnap mention #tw: forced breeding #tw: forced pregnancy #tw: implied noncon #and the tab keeps getting bigger #every year he adds more 3/4 #you're can't possibly give him many kids #he knows that #but it's fun to mess with you

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merakiui · 2 months

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the birds and the bees.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight dub-con, implied stalking, age gap (riddle is 19 and reader is 29) note - you're hired to teach riddle about the birds and the bees. you need the money. he needs to get laid.

The Rosehearts’s Residence looks about how you expected it to after driving past houses of similar size and grandeur. Unlike you, they’re definitely not strapped for cash. It’s an impressive structure with its elegant wrought iron gates and expertly trimmed hedges. You’re immediately overcome with bitter jealousy when you step through the entrance, passing rose bushes in full bloom. If only your apartment could look and feel as nice as this place. You almost wonder if you should keep Mrs. Rosehearts’s contact in case she ever needs a gardener or a window washer…

But then that risks your cover, and the last thing you want is to get tangled up in trouble with the upper middle class.

Gathering your courage, you smooth invisible wrinkles in your pencil skirt, steady your balance in your Mary Janes—both at socially acceptable lengths and heights—and bring your fist down against the door. Seconds after the third knock, it opens to reveal a woman who looks as prim and proper as the landscape of her home. She takes a long moment, drinking in your formal features, and then smiles approvingly.

“Ah, (Name), you’re early.”

You soften your face into something polite and demure. “Better early than late.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You meander into the foyer and are instantly reminded of those exquisite house tours on MagiTube. There’s a fine layer of modest Victorian wealth to the decor. Flowery wallpaper, a lofty ceiling, an aureate chandelier, a vase filled with fresh tulips of all colors… Oh, how you wish you could live here!

“Your home is beautiful,” you comment as you straighten your bow headband.

“Why, thank you.” Her eyes light up once more. “I’ve always admired this neighborhood. Everything is so well-kept. Speaking of which, where did you say you’re from?”

“Oh, I’m actually getting ready to move back to school at the end of the summer,” you explain, narrowly dodging her question. No way I’m telling her I live in a not-so-affluent neighborhood… She’ll totally kick me out. “I’m staying with my parents in the meantime and working a few jobs to support myself.”

“And what was it you’re studying again?”

You paste a hollow smile on, sensing her distrust. I already told you this when we met at the clinic. Do I really seem so suspicious?

“I’m studying to be an ob-gyn.”

“A wonderful profession,” she praises, nodding to herself. “Very wonderful indeed. And how old are you? I merely ask to confirm. There are so many miscreants nowadays. You can never be too sure.”

“I understand completely, Mrs. Rosehearts. I’m—” you almost falter, your real age on the tip of your tongue— “twenty-two. What about your son? You told me he’s also looking to get into the medical field?”

“Not looking. He will pursue medicine,” she corrects sternly. “Just like his mother.”

You swallow your disgust and try not to let it show so openly. Yikes… Talk about controlling.

Mrs. Rosehearts waves you onwards down the hall. “My Riddle will be leaving for his first year of college at the end of August. Though I’m certain he’s more than prepared, it never hurts to review.”

“Absolutely. So you’d like me to give him the talk?”

“Not just that. I’d like you to teach him well enough so that copulation and any other libidinous ideas are the last things on his mind. Stamp them out if you must. He’s to focus on his studies and make good decisions just as I raised him.”

Shouldn’t he already be familiar with this? Besides, he’s not a kid. Of course he’s going to think about sex. Most of us do when we’re horny.

But you can’t say that outright, so you settle for something vastly different.

“It’s important to stay on the right path and be responsible.”

Mrs. Rosehearts nods her agreement. Your stomach twists in discomfort.

On second thought, I don’t want to be upper middle class if these are the people I have to deal with. Is this guy going to have any chance to be social? To live his life? To make and learn from stupid mistakes? I bet he can’t wait to get out of here and go off to school.

“I apologize if this is rude in any way, but I just want to ensure I’ll be paid accordingly.”

“Of course. Good work must always be recognized and rewarded.” She stops at a door. “I cannot thank you enough for lending my Riddle your time. Teach him well.”

“I’ll do just that. You can count on it.”

Pleased with the level of maturity you’ve displayed, she raps her knuckles against the door and calls out, “Riddle, the tutor’s here.”

“Very well, Mother. I’ve just finished today’s readings, so you can send them in,” comes a muffled reply.

Today’s readings? you think, perplexed. Your gaze slides from the door to Mrs. Rosehearts. Does she have this guy doing summer school? That must suck! What a shitty way to spend your summer, cooped up inside filling out workbooks and stuff.

“I’ll be out running errands in the meantime. I trust you’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Perfectly all right,” you assure her, to which she hums and strides past you. You catch her perfume as she departs, and it reminds you of the types of scents worn by saggy, old ladies who have nothing better to do than sit around and complain about the state of the world and the way their children turned out.

In other words, a scent you associate with misery.

You wait until she’s out of sight before opening the door and stepping inside the study. There’s a mahogany desk in the center, and thick textbooks are piled high on either side. Beyond that, beside a big bay window with cream-colored curtains drawn to let in the sun, two large bookcases are packed with an array of tomes. At the front of the room, a blackboard has been built into a wooden frame. Chalk lines the ledge, situated within reach of an eraser. And sitting at the desk, his eyes glued to an open book, is a young man. A pair of round frames sit on the bridge of his nose, slipping ever so slightly down the slope of it when he peers at the page. He pushes them up when he finally lifts his head to greet you.

“Hey.” You wave awkwardly, easing the door shut.

He seems taken aback by your appearance. “Oh, yes. Right. Hello…”

Silence soon fills the space. You wonder if you should just save yourself this nonsensical waste of time and retreat.

“Sooo.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking on your heels. “Your mother’s probably told you why I’m here.”

“I’m aware.” He shuts his book and stands from his seat. “My name is Riddle Rosehearts. A pleasure to meet you.”

You blink at his outstretched arm. “(Name). Likewise.” You grab his hand and shake firmly.

So stiff…

“So where’re we starting? The basics? You want the whole ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ version or—”

Riddle scoffs and yanks his arm back. “I’m not a fool. I’ll have you know I’m well aware of sexual reproduction and what it entails.”

“You can call it sex. No one’s forcing you to be all biological,” you tease. His body goes rigid, and his face reddens in what you assume is flustered annoyance. “Anyways, since you’re not as brainless as Mother Dearest wants me to assume, I’ll just get into it.”

Riddle stares at you, his arms folding over his chest. He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he huffs and lowers into his chair.

Wordlessly, you undo the buttons on your blazer and shrug out of it. Your blouse goes next, untucked from your skirt and shucked. Riddle’s eyes are so wide they nearly pop out of his skull when he spies the white, lacy false collar that just barely covers your breasts. You’re about to step out of your pencil skirt next when Riddle clears his throat.

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No?”

“I’m teaching you the birds and the bees.”

“N-Not in that outfit! S-Surely not…” He averts his eyes, crimson crawling up to his ears. “You’re practically nude!”

“That’s the point of lingerie, silly.” Your skirt pools around your ankles to reveal the rest of your frilly ensemble. A black-and-white cupless bra and crotchless panties set, both with plenty of ruffles, held together with a pair of garters. Still wearing matching stockings and your precious Mary Janes, you bend down to gather your discarded clothes. They’re set aside on a nearby chair. “You can look.”

“A-Absolutely not!” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y-You… You’re not decent. It’s rude to stare.”

“Come on. You got past anatomy diagrams just fine.”

Riddle opens and closes his mouth, speechless like a beached fish. Eventually, he manages to gather his coherency. “You’re a tutor, aren’t you? Where’s your dignity?”

“Nonexistent. I lied.” His head snaps over to view you, and he seems so scandalized by your admission that it’s almost comedic. “No way I’m studying to be an ob-gyn. I’m not even in school.”

“What?! But you—”

“It’s fine. I looked the part, didn’t I?” you joke, waving your hand about dismissively. “C’mon, mama’s boy. You’re going off to college. It’s nothing like those stuffy anatomy courses.”

Riddle tries and fails to look at anywhere that isn’t you, his eyes lingering on your chest to the space between your legs to the thigh garter and then to the ceiling. He’s so red you think he might explode.

“You’ve been with a girl before, yeah?”

With lips pursed in a tight line, he shakes his head.

“Sounds about right.”

“And you’re so experienced?”

You flash him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, mama’s boy.”

“I’m not a mama’s boy!”

“No? So you just let your mother treat you like a little baby at your grown age? You let her pick out sex tutors for you?”

“I—” He stops himself from speaking to mull over your questions. “If it’s what she deems necessary…”

“Because our biggest fear is sexually awkward you knocking up some girl at school, right?”

“I… I would never! Safe sex is—”

“Very important when you’re not trying to conceive. Good boy. See? You know your stuff.”

Riddle’s eyes narrow into vicious slits. You brush his scorching vitriol off and turn towards the board. Procuring a piece of chalk, you scrawl words on it: Birds and Bees 101. Wholly unamused, Riddle folds his arms across his chest.

“Your mother told me you’re gonna study medicine, so you’re probably familiar with everything already. And I’m sure you know all about the baby-making process on a biological level.” You whirl to face him, your tits bouncing with the peppy motion. Riddle swallows thickly. “But just to make sure… Let’s review.”

“R-Review? You don’t mean—”

“What’s this?” Your hands close around your tits. Riddle’s enchanted with the way you squeeze them—the way they depress under your fingers.

“Um… Ahem. Well… T-The breasts. They’re a type of glandular organ located on a woman’s chest, and they’re made up of lots of tissue and fat. There’s the mammary gland—that’s what produces milk. Oh, and then there are the areolas right around the nipples. Those are—”

“You can call them what they are.”

Riddle blinks, shaken from his studious spiel. “W-What?”

“You know the word, mama’s boy.”

He flusters. “Yes, I’m aware. But…”

“No harm in saying it.” You run your fingers over your nipples and giggle sweetly like a schoolgirl. “Go on…”

He inhales a deep breath. “They’re tits,” he mumbles, desultory. “Y-Your tits.”

You clap, beaming brightly. “Well done! Moving swiftly on…” You run your hands down the expanse of your stomach, stopping just beneath your navel. “What’s here?”

“Your womb. O-Otherwise known as the uterus. It’s where a baby grows over the course of nine months.”

“Mhm. Good job.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “There’s more to your reproductive system than the uterus. Lots of parts. Important parts.”

“Right. But I don’t need to quiz you on it. You obviously know your stuff.”

Again, your fingers inch lower until they’re prodding at your folds. Riddle’s breath audibly hitches.

“And this?”

“Your vagina. It’s where—”

“What’s the other word?”

Riddle avoids your stare. “It sounds so vulgar…”

“So what?”

“S-So there ought to be a term that’s more…flattering.”

“Like what?” You approach him and, with the grace of a swan, lift your leg onto the desk to give him a better view of yourself. Shamelessly, you dip your fingers inside to spread yourself. “A guy called it the honeypot once. That pretty enough for you?”

Riddle squeaks and flinches back in his chair, his face now even redder than it was before. “T-That’s fine…”

“Really? I’d have thought the implication in that one is much dirtier than calling it a pussy.”

It takes him a moment to connect the dots, but once he does he gasps. “Ah. Then…”

You press inwards with your fingers, exaggerating a pornographic sigh. “Yeah?”

“Can I… M-May I call it your flower?”

“Sure.” His shoulders slacken with a flicker of relief. Your next words shatter that and his pride in one fell swoop. “That one’s not as special as you think, mama’s boy. I’ve heard it all—every type of flower you can think of.”

“Even a rose?”

“Especially a rose.” His lips twist into a disappointed moue. You chuckle and add, “You can call it a rose if you want. I don’t mind.”

Riddle meets your eyes then, searching them for the joke. When one doesn’t present itself, he relaxes. “All right. It’s a very pretty rose. Soft…”

“Aww. Thanks for saying so. It’s softer inside, y’know. See?” Spreading yourself wider, you angle your hips to bless him with the full view. “My fingers slide right in. Wanna guess why?”

“B-Because the vagina naturally—” He stops himself, his brows knitting together in contemplation. When he speaks next, it’s with a determined sort of conviction. “When you’re aroused, your rose produces a natural lubricant during sexual excitement.”

“Mhm. We call that ‘feeling good and getting wet,’ Dr. Rosehearts.”

“Yes. Y-Yes, I know that.” He eyes your pussy, a ravenous glimmer in his intelligent blue-greys. “And the wetness—it’s supposed to make it feel better. To make insertion easier, I mean.”

“Right again.” You ease your fingers out but not before thrusting them deeper just so he can hear the sinful sounds. They shimmer with your essence, enticing in a forbidden way. “What about the other parts? How about this spot here?” You brush against the hood of your clit, circling it slowly.

Riddle watches, hopelessly spellbound. “The clitoris.”

“I’m impressed. Most guys don’t know about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But it’s your most sensitive erogenous zone! Just how uninformed does one have to be to neglect such a crucial part to your sexual anatomy?”

“Woefully uninformed, I’m afraid,” you mutter with a pout. Your fingertips drag your hood up to reveal that pretty, perky nub. “I think it’s dumb your mother wants me to talk you out of sex. You’re going to college. You’re an adult. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I…” Riddle frowns at that last line. “I have no interest in it. Besides, it’ll only hinder my studies. If I really need it, I’ll just masturbate. That’s healthy every now and then, and it doesn’t break any rules.”

“Really? No interest at all?” You shoot him a knowing look and run your tongue along your bottom lip. “Because your dick’s telling a different story.”

Riddle sputters, embarrassed, and squeezes his thighs together. His hands fly to cover his lap. “That’s because you’re—” He gazes at the floor. “Because you’re so pretty…”

Temporarily thrown off course, you gape at him. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Gathering the remnants of your mask, you piece it together and laugh. “Not the first time I’ve heard someone describe it like that.”

“Not just your pussy.” Your gaze snaps to his. He smiles, impish. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Teacher.”

You exhale a short laugh. “Someone’s suddenly confident.”

Riddle rises from his seat. His fingers close around your wrist, gently pulling it away from your clit. He moves around the desk to stand in front of you and then, before you can comprehend his intentions, he’s pushing you down onto the desk. You yelp at the sudden change in position, your eyes blown wide when he presses his clothed hard-on against your bare pussy.

“You’re doing a poor job at dissuading me from wanting sex.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“Not in that outfit.” He grabs at the meat of your thighs and parts them. “If Mother knew you lied to her…”

You shake your head at him. “Please don’t tell her. I… I’m being serious. I need this money.”

“Desperately?”

Your lip curls into the beginning of a sneer. You hate feeling powerless more than anything, but the fiery glaze in his eyes is just as troubling. “I’m not going to beg.”

“I haven’t asked for that yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Not funny. I agreed to teach you about sex. We’re not actually doing it.”

“A shame.”

“You’ll find a nice girl at school. Don’t lose hope, mama’s boy. Lots of girls like the smart types who’ll give ’em a lecture on biology and stuff.”

“I think you misunderstand. I don’t want other girls.”

“Okay?”

“My mother’s paying for a tutor and I desire you, so unless you want to leave here as a lying cheat…” He hums, seeming awfully haughty to hold the only thing that tethers you to him above your head. “You need the money, right?”

“Yes. Sure, of course I do. But—” You shift on the desk, silently horrified when he rocks against you. “We can’t. Your mother—”

“Weren’t you the one saying I should live my life? That I have the freedom to do as I please?”

“That doesn’t mean—come on; listen to yourself. You can’t honestly think I’d fuck you.”

“No? And yet you came wearing this outfit, parading around the study with your pussy and tits out.” He glances past you at the window. “And you didn’t even bother to close the curtains… How brazen.”

Your attempt to jerk away from him is made in vain. He pins you down onto the desk, one hand squeezing your breast, while the other works to fish himself from his trousers. Now hard and leaking, his cock rests against your stomach. It’s not a terrible size. If anything, it’s perfect. Just right for your tastes.

“W-Wait! It’s not safe. You can’t—” You inhale sharply, bucking up towards his hand when he presses his thumb against your clit. Biting your lip, you fix him with a glower. “If you pay me… If you promise not to tell your mother—”

Riddle leans in close. “No one needs to know. No one but us.”

Your eyes flit about the room. With a withering sigh, you submit to his touch. “You’d better pull out in time.”

Riddle rolls his hips once and his cock drags along your folds. You hiss through your teeth at this new friction, a sinful delight more dizzying than any type of alcohol consumed in excess. “Do you want to be a mother?”

“What I want has nothing to do with you. I’m just—ooh—t-trying to survive. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, so don’t poke fun.”

Riddle hums, kneading your breast and rubbing you to the edge all at once. It’s so very obviously his first time, his zealous nature trumping any sort of experienced technique. It still does the trick, though, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“My mother wouldn’t just choose anyone. Her standards are very high.” His eyes flick to your face, drinking in your expression as it shifts with restrained bliss. “Somehow you’ve earned her approval.”

“Lying’ll do that.”

“Maybe.” His fingers replicate the motions you did earlier, though with a singular objective in mind. He’s so focused on succeeding in this endeavor that it makes him look so stiff. Under any other circumstances, you’d find it cute. “Mother always knows what’s best for me. Obviously you’ve met her criteria if she’s hired you.”

“Spoken like a true mama’s boy.” Seeing as this is now your unavoidable fate, you reach up to touch his shoulders. He jolts, his initial glare softening. You tamp down another giggle and massage up and along his arms. “Relax a little. Don’t rush so much.”

Or do. Let’s get this over with before your mother catches us.

Riddle traces two fingers along your labia. He’s quiet as he takes all of you in, and when he sinks three fingers into your gooey heat his breath catches in his throat. “Are you… D-Do you feel good?”

You reach for his unoccupied hand and guide it to your clit. Riddle understands the suggestion well enough, for he massages you slowly. Sucking in another breath, you nod at him.

“Not bad. You’re getting there.”

His neglected cock throbs at the praise, and so you wrap your fingers around it to give it the same amount of attention he’s currently giving you. Riddle grits his teeth at the contact.

“You can move your fingers. Don’t just focus on my clit.”

“Ah. Right. Of course,” he babbles dumbly, so swept up in everything that you are, so very eager to please.

You’re like a work of art pinned to his desk, a delicacy more forbidden than anything from the bakery. Sugary-sweet, adorned in skimpy ruche, you’re a temptation laid bare. Delicately, as if you might shatter, he curls his fingers to press up against your insides. Riddle watches you arch up towards him, your hand working his cock maddeningly slow and steady. It feels good—better than anything he could have ever imagined.

His eyes trail from your lips to your tits to your pussy stretched around his fingers. “Do you have any plans for this summer?”

The sudden question catches you off guard. You were expecting something related to sex, not whatever this new shred of curiosity is. Still, that doesn’t stop you from dragging him closer to the edge of ecstasy with every tug of your fist.

“Why?”

“I… I’d like to get to know you.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You’re more than a body to me.”

“How charming. I just—” You frown, unable to follow where he’s going with this. “Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Even though he says it like it’s a fact, he looks shy. “I want to know you.”

“Uh… Yeah… Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not that… It’s just hard to imagine you having any girl friends.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and grinds his thumb into your clit. You bite back a whine as his fingers pump in and out of you. “Is that space open or closed?”

“You know which one.”

“You could be the one to close it.”

You meet his eyes then. For a short minute, the two of you hold each other’s stare. And then, breaking free from his hypnotic hold, you squeeze his length gently. He shudders, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“And what about you? You excited for your first year?”

“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, rutting into your hand. His fingers spread you open, scissoring gently.

“Just make sure to take time for yourself. Have fun. Live.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were at school—how’d you manage?”

“I never went.” He opens his mouth to interject, but you beat him to it. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh…”

“It’s fine! I’ve got plenty of experience in other things. I don’t need school for that.”

Riddle doesn’t believe your feigned optimism for a second. “If you could’ve gone, what would you have studied?”

You release his cock from your hold and reach up to pull his glasses from his face. Gingerly, minding the fragile frames, you set them aside. You lift your index to your lips, effortlessly coy. “It’s a secret.”

Before he can protest, you tap the hand at your cunt next. Riddle’s fingers, wet and shiny, slide out with a slick squelch. “I think you can do it.”

“What?”

“Go to school and study what you want. I believe in you.”

A wooden laugh tumbles from your lips. “Thanks for the encouragement, mama’s boy.”

“I have a name, you know.”

You smile easily. “You want me to call you something else? How does ‘good boy’ sound?”

Even though he tries not to let it show, his cock betrays his reticence with a small twitch. He’s an open book. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction, he lines himself up instead. Your fingers slip down to spread yourself for him.

“S-Slowly…” you whisper, stumbling over your breath as the head of his cock presses inside. Shallow at first before more inches fill you.

Riddle heaves a shaky gasp, his eyes wide with amazement. “I… I’m inside you…”

“How’s it feel?” “Warm. Soft. Snug. R-Really good.” He bows his head and digs his fingers into your hips. You think he has a dozen more adjectives on the tip of his tongue, each one just as fluffy as the last. “D-Do you feel good? It doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m fine.” You wind your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your hands come to rest upon his shoulders once more. “Move your hips.”

Riddle does just that. His pace is awkward and inexperienced, every motion unsteady and jerky, as he searches for the right rhythm. He falls into it surprisingly fast, and it isn’t long until he’s smoothly rutting into you. You grab at his shirt, your breath coming in reedy huffs.

“Good. You—haa—good. You’re doing good.” Praise pours from your lips like a waterfall, plentiful and refreshing. It invigorates him, fills him with a confidence that wasn’t there before.

The soft slap of skin on skin fills the room. You keep your voice in check, lest you lose yourself and alert Mrs. Rosehearts. Riddle seems to be doing the same, even though it’s obvious he’s struggling much more than you are. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress his groans.

“You can touch me,” you whisper, petting his cheek. He blinks at you, his face aflame with a bright blush.

Nervously, he reaches for you and then pauses. Contemplation passes over his features. “What feels better? I want you to—no. I will make sure you cum. I’ve studied it, actually. I know how long it takes.”

“Look at you, doing your research like a diligent student. You want extra credit?”

Riddle chuckles and pinches your clit between two fingers. The rest of your teasing tapers off into a lewd squeal. “What was that about extra credit?”

“You’re awfully bold for your first time.”

“I’m not clueless.” His hips press inwards, plastering you to the desk, and his cock brushes that special spot within—the spot that has you seeing stars, your every nerve tingling with pleasure. You choke around a delighted gasp. Riddle, feeling victorious, places his hand against your stomach, as if searching to feel his cock thrust up inside you. “Will I see you again after this?”

“If your mother wants me to come back and give you another pointless lecture on celibacy and safe sex, sure.”

“No, not that. Outside of this.”

“Don’t you have friends you’d rather hang out with?”

“I…do.”

“So spend time with them.”

Riddle doesn’t dignify that with a retort. With the way his eyes gloss over, you wonder just how many of these friends are within physical distance. The conversation stalls out into silence.

“You’ll make lots of friends at school. So many you’ll probably forget all about me.”

Riddle yanks your hips to meet his, driving himself deeper into your pussy.

“A-And you’ll find a nice girl to love if you’re looking for that kinda thing.”

“I am,” he confesses, breathless. “I want to get married and—mmh—start a family one day… I want to study law—become a lawyer… Mother thinks medicine suits me, but I can’t agree. Law is fascinating. It’s a perfect fit for me. Far better than medicine.”

You drag your thumb over your mouth, wetting it with your lipgloss, and then press it to his lips. The indirect kiss sends a tidal wave of arousal over him, darkening the tips of his ears in striking vermillion. You offer him a gentle smile while he recovers from that devastating flirt.

“I’ll make sure to hire you as my lawyer if I ever get into legal trouble.”

“You’d better not!” He laughs and shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But if you do, I’ll be there for you. Always.”

“Thanks, Riddle.”

Maybe I judged him too harshly. He’s not so bad.

In that stuffy study, just as the late afternoon gives way to red-orange streaked across a purple-pink sky, Riddle fucks you against that desk in all manner of rhythms. It’s when he finally picks up speed that you realize he’s nearing his end. You mirror his enjoyment, strung along by titillating touches and whispered words drenched in sweetness. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve reached rapture alongside him, your pussy now brimming with cum. There’s so much it leaks out of your slick hole when he draws away, only to burrow his cock deeper to stuff it back inside.

The room reeks of sweat and sex. You think, if not your disheveled appearance, the smell will definitely tell Mrs. Rosehearts all she needs to know.

“I love you,” Riddle murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what he means—maybe he’s caught up in the moment and doesn’t realize what he’s saying—but then he lifts your legs up to fold you into a mating press. Coherent thoughts are knocked out of your head when he spills over, filling you up for the nth time that day. You shiver beneath him, eyes rolled back into your skull and tongue lolling out. You feel so stupid, fucked submissive by some inexperienced, upper middle class mama’s boy. Which isn’t even an insult with real heat to it, but in your hazy mind it’s all you can think of to describe him.

He grinds against you in the aftermath, panting from the exhilaration and adrenaline.

“We need to…open the window,” you mutter, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

Riddle admires your fucked-out expression in his sex-drunk daze. He slides out just as he feels himself going flaccid. Cum drips onto the desk below. Briefly, you struggle to recall whether or not you took your birth control today.

Something to consider later. Definitely not right now when you’re still clinging to the vestiges of your orgasm.

— — —

Mrs. Rosehearts knocks on the door, opening it to find Riddle sitting at his desk, jotting notes and occasionally pushing his glasses up. You’re standing at the blackboard, writing a list of the consequences of unplanned pregnancies. The room smells pleasantly of roses.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

You gaze at her and smile, wearing the clothes you arrived in. Nothing’s amiss. It’s perfect—thankfully. “Welcome back, Mrs. Rosehearts. We’re just about finished here.”

“Is that right? I assume all went well?”

“Very well. Your son’s a fast learner. Extremely talented.”

“I would expect nothing less.” She withdraws an envelope and hands it to you. “Thank you again for explaining it in realistic terms. Of course I doubt that my Riddle will act senselessly while he’s away, but as his mother I’m prone to worrying. Boys his age are so easily influenced.”

“O-Of course! That’s a very valid concern.” You force a chuckle.

If only she knew.

“Your pay is in that envelope. Should I ever require your assistance again, I’ll be sure to call.”

“Right… Thank you.” You hold it close to your chest. “I’m happy to help.”

You follow her out the door. She pauses to address Riddle. “Do continue reviewing your notes. We’ll convene for dinner in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Mrs. Rosehearts walks you to the gate. “I wish you luck in your studies. If I don’t see you again at the clinic, have a pleasant summer.”

“Thank you. You as well.” You smile, fidgeting slightly. A bead of sweat tracks a path down your leg from between cum-spattered thighs.

Finally! With this I can pay my rent and still have enough for a treat from the bakery.

It’s worth it, or so you continue to tell yourself.

— — —

From the window, Riddle watches you make the walk to your car. He lifts his phone to fit you in the camera and snaps a secret photo. He continues to watch you until you’ve driven off and turned the corner, disappearing from his sight.

A tiny smile tugs at his lips.

Within his phone, put under a password lock, a special photo album exists. It’s filled with pictures taken from your social media—all of them. Every. Single. One. He’s resourceful when he wants to be. He can play the parody of a tech genius when he sets his sights on something.

And you’re just perfect.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader #yandere riddle #yandere riddle rosehearts x reader #n/sfw #tw: age gap #tw: dubcon #tw: pregnancy mention

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sluttywoozi · 5 months

Text

Werewolf!mingyu x f!reader pregnancy headcanons

continuation of werewolf!mingyu

Warnings: biting/marking, breeding kink, mention of iud and iud removal, cum inflation, pregnancy

Werewolf mingyu knows he wants you to be his wife after the first date

Knows he wants to build a family with you by the third

You get married right out of college and he’s ready to get started, but you’re not quite there yet

He’s patient, and it helps that you have an iud so he can still knot you as often as you both want

Which happens to be just about every day thanks to his wolf shouting at him to mark you in some way

He wants to keep his teeth marks all over you but talks himself down to just two - one on your tummy and one on your inner thigh

Absolutely loses his mind when you tell him you want to get your iud taken out and start trying

Quite literally rips off your clothes and takes you right there in the living room

First he bends you over the couch and then he has you sit on his dick in his favorite chair and fuck yourself on his knot

Both times, he can’t stop from sinking his teeth into the spot where your neck meets your shoulder

It hurts like hell and you have to hide the bite mark at work but you’re not upset with him

If anything, you feel even more loved

Because you know he was so lost in you that he lost control, because he apologized so many times after, and because he ate you out for the rest of the night to make up for it

He takes you to your iud removal appointment and holds your hand the whole time and gives you tummy rubs until the soreness goes away

Then the next few months are wild, and so is mingyu

He fucks you for hours at a time, multiple times a day

You both have to call out of work more than once because you just can’t tear yourselves away from each other

You have a near permanent swollen belly from all the cum he’s pumping into you on the daily (nigh hourly) and he’s absolutely obsessed with it

“This is how you’ll look in the first couple months,” he says, holding your stomach with both hands and grinning up at you with starry eyes and sharp teeth

It takes almost a year and a lot of cycle planning, but you finally get that positive pregnancy test and you both cry over it (mingyu more than you (shocker))

He thanks you more times than you can count, presses kisses all over your belly, and takes you right back to bed to celebrate

Throughout your pregnancy, he dotes on you even more than he did before

Cooks all of your meals and takes you out shopping for maternity clothes any time something you love doesn’t fit

Goes with you to every appointment and always reminds you of questions you mentioned wanting to ask, takes notes the whole time in a journal with little baby footprints on the front

Rubs your back and your feet every night, takes pleasure and pride in smoothing cocoa butter over your growing belly to help with the itchiness of stretching skin

Will pick you up and carry you at the drop of a hat, all you have to do is say, “My calves are a little sore tod-” and you’re in his arms

Sleeps with one arm under your head and the other cradling your bump

Wakes up every single time you get up to go to the bathroom because even with how deeply he sleeps, he can still sense when you’re not there

Fucks you so gently, it brings tears to your eyes

You feel so good, he can’t talk while he’s fucking you, but as soon as he’s got you locked around his knot, he says the sweetest things

Things like, “You’re so fucking beautiful, all full and round with our baby,” and “I love you more than anything, honey,” and “Fuck, I just wanna keep you like this forever, keep you on my knot, keep you bred.”

You wish the same, of course, but you both decide to give your body a year to recover which means he just soaks in this time with even more dedication

When it's time for your baby to join you earthside, you're actually the one panicking

You're convinced you can't do it, convinced his cute little monster baby will rip you apart, convinced you're not cut out to be a mother

He soothes every worry, reminds you that you've been preparing for this for near ten months, tells you you'll be the best possible mother because you're already the best possible person

And many hours later when you're holding your baby and he's holding you, you finally believe him

848 notes · View notes

kathaynesart · 3 months

Note

You have me anticipating that Holiday Special SO FRICKING BAD 😭. No pressure or asking you to hurry up at all, just saying that I'm like super super excited to see what happens hehehe. Unless it turns out you aren't posting it or somthin. But anway, I love your comic and Im obsessed with how well you draw the turtles and April and Cass, you know? THANK YOU FOR BRINGING THIS COMIC INTO MY LIFE 😍

Ahh! Thank you so much and thank you to all the kind messages I have received in the past few months! I wish I had the time to respond to them all but sadly life has been busy! I promise I've been working hard on the next update too! I have 14 of 18 pages completed and I really really want to get it done by this weekend if I can! In the mean time have a panel to tie you over!

They weren't prepared.

#rottmnt replica #kathaynesart #replica #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #q&a #pregnancy cw #pregnancy tw #pregnancy mention

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rinhaler · 8 months

Text

You Deserve Roses and You Know This

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ex!Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Genre: Smut & Angst Notes: reposting from my old account! Warnings: 18+, dubcon, vaginal sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), nipple play, dacryphilia, pregnancy, abortion ideation, miscarriage, depression, adultery, breeding, creampie ♡, smoking mention. Words: 4.1k

“Is it true? Did talking to Megumi make you cry today?” Toji asks you, peeling down your bra strap before sensually decorating your exposed shoulder in delicate kisses.

He didn’t notice, but as soon as the question left his tongue you had instinctively become dead behind the eyes. It was true. You’re an adult, and yet you were brought to tears by his seven-year-old son. It wasn’t that he said anything callous, quite the opposite, really. Earlier that day, Megumi had been sitting playing in your front room. You were babysitting, as you often did, while Toji and his wife were working. Your eyes hold shut as you remember his wife; his beautiful and kind wife while he continues littering your skin in adoration. You shouldn’t be doing this, but you can’t stop now.

Green sparkling eyes looked up from innocent children’s toys to pose you a question – “Why do you hate me?” he asked, genuinely. It was like a knife through your chest. You didn’t hate him. You could never hate him, Toji being partly responsible for his existence is enough reason to adore him with everything you have.

You just wish he was yours.

Toji is patient when he gets his time with you. It’s rare, after all, and he wants to make the most of it. Two large palms settle on your breasts, the straps are down but your bra is still firmly in place. He massages your flesh over the material, lips traversing the expanse of your body until he reaches your pulse point. He licks, slowly, hot eager breath contrasting your own temperature and making you shudder. This, he notices, pulling your back even closer into his chest. His left hand slowly yet forcefully moves up and down your adjacent arm, desperate to dispel the goosebumps that have formed on your skin. He suckles and licks on your ear lobe before nibbling it softly between his teeth. His breathing changes, his mouth level with your ear, he’s going to speak.

“Baby… what were you talking about?” he sighs, an even more chill inducing breath warms the shell of your ear. He pecks against it, the sound of tactile lips puckering slithers directly through your ear canal. You moan, unintentionally, and back further into your temporary lover. He holds your breasts once more; stabilising you, if only a little, as you begin to grind your core against his crotch.

“I- I can’t, Toji—”

Your attention is fixated on him as his hand encases half of your face and turns you to face him. But you both find yourselves closing your eyes as he places a kiss against your lips. It’s slow, yet heated, and you feel him smile into you when he hears you moan into his mouth pathetically. You’re well and truly at his mercy, though you aren’t embarrassed. How else should one act and behave around the love of their life?

“You can and you will,” he explains, biting your lip as he parts from the kiss. A singular string of saliva keeps you connected for a second before snapping. “you can’t have secrets with my son darlin’, you just can’t. So tell me, what were you talkin’ to him about?”

You gulp, nerves overcoming you like never before. Your eyes flutter shut yet again as he diverts his attention from your eyes to your body. The skin behind your ear is the next subject of his eroticism. And yet, he has the gall to chastise you for enjoying it. With one more repetition of tell me you realise you can’t stall anymore. Out of options. And you can’t lie.

“R-Rocco, ah—!”

“How does Megumi know about Rocco?”

“I- I told… him…”

He hikes your leg up so that you’re sitting on his lap like a little girl. The kissing has stopped and the touches have halted. Toji isn’t patient except with you. He’s never looked as furious as he does now, with you. Brows scrunched and the glimmer in his eye you love so much has ceased to exist. His scar looks as raw as it did the day he got it. A non-existent armour made you believe he wouldn’t mind you talking to his son about such a sensitive subject matter, but apparently it is not to be discussed under any terms.

“Don’t you ever talk to my son about Rocco again. D’ya hear me? Never.” he forbids, his eyes seem to soften ever so slightly when he spots that you can’t prevent the way your lip begins to wobble. “If you really wanna talk about Rocco, talk to me. Yeah? No one else, just me.”

“Y-You don’t let me—” you start, your thought isn’t completed. Thoughts are rattled from your mind as he begins manoeuvring you so that your back is flat against the mattress, jade green eyes boring into your very soul as he hovers above you. His arms dip behind your back, finally unhooking your bra and baring your chest to him.

Beautiful, he thinks.

“I’m letting you now.” he explains, his head resting on your chest, looking up with intent behind his salacious stare. He latches onto one of your protruding nipples, taking it between his cracked lips. He sucks and pecks, and it’s almost lazy, but you know it’s with purpose. It’s driving you wild, you can’t help but wriggle helplessly beneath him, desperate to gain some relief on your eager heat.

He pins one of your legs down, stopping you from continuing your movements. It’s torture, you think, he’s expecting you to broach such a heavy subject matter while you’re so desperate for his touch.

“C’mon sweetheart… talk about Rocco,” he commands. You can’t. Tears stream down your face as you do your best to experience Toji whilst thinking back to the past. Your mind spins and you feel as if you can’t breathe. He releases your nipple with an accentuated pop as he smirks up at you. “I remember how scared you were to tell me… when you realised—”

“Fuck, Toji.” you croon, a mischievous finger slithered down your abdomen down the length of your clothed slit. Feather light touches against your clit and your entrance forced your hips to buck upwards carelessly. He snickered, repeating the action again and again. “I- I remember.” you stutter.

You’d only been dating for thirteen weeks. He was yours before his wife entered the fray, before you had to battle for his time and attention. Nerves got the better of you, the thought of admitting to yourself what you already knew made you nauseous beyond any description.

Your period was late.

It was something you didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone inform Toji of. It had been so little time since you began dating. You thought he’d leave you, run away and never look back. So, there was only one thing for it. An abortion. You couldn’t keep the baby if you wanted to keep him. It was your only option. You were stressed, manic, exhausted. But at least you’d have Toji – that was all you cared about.

“You were so scared to tell me, weren’t ya?” he asks, hooking a finger beneath your panties before settling it in your inner thigh crease. He plunges a finger inside of you, chuckling when more obscenities fly from your mouth as your head falls backwards into the plush pillows. One of your hand grips the sheets below, whilst your other almost tears his hair from the roots. So little attention, and yet such a big reaction from you. “Thought so little of me, baby, ‘m sorry.” he finishes, adding a second finger to your scorching heat. It's almost as if the air in your lungs has frozen, weighing you down. It’s preventing you from speaking. From breathing. Even thinking.

It was confirmed when you finally took the plunge and decided to do a pregnancy test. Big, black, bold text told you the answer and where your future was heading. Motherhood, for certain. But you knew you had to take care of it before Toji became suspicious. It was something you didn’t even want him to know you were going through. Everything with him was perfect, it wasn’t something you wanted to ruin over something you believed could be easily taken care of.

So… why were you crying every day?

That’s what he asked you. You hadn’t been yourself, and that is what gave you away. Jokes he told that you found funny didn’t seem so funny anymore. The way he traced his fingers up and down your arms made you defensive, and paranoid. You didn’t want him to touch you in case he somehow sensed it in his fingertips. If he felt you he might just know that you’re carrying his child and he’ll skip out on you.

It all came to a head one day after you finished throwing up. You couldn’t keep your cries silent. Your body was betraying you, you felt hurt in ways you never had before and it was becoming impossible to keep it all to yourself. You didn’t dare tell a soul for fear of Toji finding out through the grapevine. But enough was enough, he thought.

“You need to tell me what’s going on with you.” he told you, but you shook your head.

“I can’t Toji, please. Trust me, I can’t.” you explained, “It’s fine… I will ruin everything if I tell you so… so I’m… I’m taking care of it—”

“Cut that shit out right now. This has been going on a fuckin’ while and I can’t stand to see you like this,” he responded, moving his head as you moved yours. You were trying to avoid his piercing glare, but he wouldn’t let you. He couldn’t. He’d never of forgiven himself if you carried on like that, unable to share your woes, and did something you might regret. “Trust me, I’m beggin’ you to trust me, baby.”

He forced you to sit down, and face him. He wiped away your tears with his thumbs and kept all of his attention focused on you as he watched you calm yourself down. Tear filled breaths that clogged your lungs fizzled into shaky exhales the longer you held eye contact with Toji. He wasn’t going anywhere, for now. If you explain you can tell him your plans. Maybe he’d support you if he knew you planned on freeing you both of the burden of parenthood, you hoped.

“I… I’m, uh—”

“Yeah? C’mon sweetheart, doin’ so good f’me just use your words.” he spoke, doing his best to tempt the truth out of you. With one final swallow of terror and closing your eyes for a moment to think, you finally found the courage to confess.

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out quickly. “but it’s okay I’m gonna get rid of it. Okay?” you fumbled out words quicker than you could think. You just wanted him to know that there was no way you’d be keeping the baby. He was what you needed, not a kid. “Please, I promise I’m going to get rid of it, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. D-Don’t leave me, p-please. You are more important to me than a baby, I just want you. I—”

Your rambling was stifled as Toji pressed a finger to your lips. He kissed you on your forehead, a warm smile filled his features. Instantly, you were relived. It meant that your idea of an abortion was enough to convince him to stand by you. There was no reason to worry yourself sick like that, he was going to support you through it all.

“You don’t have to get rid of our baby,” he smiled.

“W-What?”

“In fact, I don’t want you to do that at all.” he warmly spoke, pulling your body into his and forcing his head between the valley of your breasts. It wasn’t sexual, it was just a comfort to him to hear your heartbeat. “Maybe… we could start our own little family, huh?”

Tears roll down your eyes as you reminisce on it all whilst Toji adds his flat tongue to the equation of his fingers in your cunt. It’s all so romantic and wonderful and intense. You don’t think you’ve ever been happier than you were in that moment. The moment you knew he really would stand by you through anything at all. And despite your assumption, he was excited to become a father. He was excited to have a baby with you.

“I love you, Toji.” you speak, softly, unsure if it was even loud enough for him to hear. Oh, but he did. He doesn’t want to stop lapping at your swollen clit, knowing it’s exactly where you need the most attention right now. But a particularly harsh suckle and pop of the bead is a silent acknowledgement, he promises he heard you. “Gonna… gonna cum. T-Toji—”

“No no, baby, not yet,” he instructs. He removes his fingers from your hole, delicately rubbing them over your sensitive bundle of nerves instead. It’s slow and tormenting, but he doesn’t want you to cum like this. “I was so happy when we found out we were havin’ a little boy, y’know? So damn happy princess.”

You remember it well. Your emotions were running high and you had the ability to blame your hormones when you discovered the gender of your unborn child. But you couldn’t quite believe it when you looked over to see Toji’s eyes, eyes that are normally so strict and stern, glossy with tears on his lash line. He couldn’t help it, he claimed.

“Look what we made.” he pointed, the scan revealing perfectly what a handsome little boy you’d made together.

And later that day, he took you shopping. Money was no object. That is what you both decided. Neither of you could believe how much stuff you ended up buying. Paints for the nursery. A crib. Other necessary pieces of furniture. Toys. Clothes. Everything you thought you needed, you bought. You were both first time parents and completely clueless. So, if a shop assistant recommended it, you bought it.

You spent so much time together painting the walls of your baby’s new room. Toji was very irritable when you kept asking what to do and how to help. The paint wasn't going on as nicely as he hoped and his temper flared, it was extremely evident in his face. What do you do when you see an angry bear? Poke it with a stick. Or in this case, flick paint from the end of your brush at him. When he noticed what you had done and he turned to face you, you swear you could read murder on his mind. But when you began to laugh, he couldn’t help the laugh that snuck out of him.

There was more paint on the two of you than on the walls by the end of it.

“That was the day we decided to call him Rocco…” Toji mused.

He began to kiss up towards your naval and back to your neck. Your fingers laced through his hair as you begged for him to deliver the same salvation he was offering your body to your lips as well. He complied, slow patience had dwindled as your tongues found each other. It was wet, heated, sloppy. You felt yourself drooling out of the corners of your mouth, Toji Fushiguro is just so intoxicating. A drug you can’t quit though you know you should.

He’s all you have.

He doesn’t break the kiss from you, though his hand eventually meets his heavy, wanting cock. He guides it to your desperate entrance, lining it up perfectly before slotting himself inside. His hips roll, bullying his cock into you inch by agonising inch until your lip begins to quiver. He hushes you, though.

You both know you want it.

“I’m s-so – fuck – I’m so sorry, baby. I am so—”

“P-Please, pleaaaase stop.” you beg. He doesn’t. You are the one who wanted to talk about it. So desperate to talk about it that you went to a seven-year-old boy to discuss it. His son. “N-No more, I can’t—”

“It was the worst day of my life, too, I promise you that darlin’.” he mumbles in your ear. The thrum of his words rushes straight to your cunt, and you clench so hard around his cock you think he might have to stay there forever.

You don’t think you’ve ever been as embarrassed as you were when you came home from the hospital. Your pristine white maxi dress, stained in bright red blood by your crotch. The atmosphere in your house was foul. Two solemn adults who had lost everything in a few menial hours. Hollowness filled you, not a single emotion ran through you until you heard Toji a few rooms away. You sat on the sofa, turned on the TV and pretended it wasn’t happening. But you could hear Toji loud and clear.

He was in the nursery.

That was the first and only time you’ve ever heard him cry. A loud thud vibrated through you and you knew he had collapsed to the ground. Melancholy overtook him as his new reality was setting in. Your little boy was no more. No fault of your own, apparently, everyone made sure to repeat that enough times for it to really take root in the depths of your brain.

It didn’t help at all.

You couldn’t bring yourself to check on Toji. That would mean going into Rocco’s room and facing the truth yourself. So, you waited. You waited hours for him to finally come out. He came to see you, resting on the balls of his feet in front of the sofa where you sat. Fresh tears replaced old ones as he noticed the drying blood on your dress.

“H-How about a bath, huh?” he suggested.

You don’t remember saying yes, or nodding. But somehow, you found yourself naked and submerged in a bubble bath. It was like you had left your own body as he did his best to clean you. You could hear him sniffling. He was desperate to talk about it with you, all he wanted was for you to help each other cope. But you couldn’t. So, he did his best to lock it away too.

It was as if you had returned to yourself when Toji took a break from washing your hair to wipe more tears from his eyes. A soft mumbling of ‘Oh, Godddddd…’ trailed from his lips as he tried to pull himself together. And finally, your lip began to jut out helplessly. Your eyes scrunched, and the tears began to flow. You were staring at your bloody dress, and listening to him try and hold it together. It was all equating to too much.

It was real, now.

“Our… baby—” you cut yourself off with a wail, Toji pulled you into his hold and sobbed into your sodden locks.

He hissed with each thrust inside of your gummy walls. A perfect home for him in the form of your bodies fitting together like perfect puzzle pieces. He doesn’t feel like this with his wife, only you. He couldn’t stay away, he’d never be able to do that.

He loves you.

Fuck, he loves you.

“’m not good enough… I’ve never been—”

“Stop it, baby. You are enough, I promise.” he tells you through gritted teeth. It’s getting harder and harder to have a normal conversation while he is fucking you so intimately. Every ounce of his love poured into every devastating thrust.

He loves you.

“Wasn’t good enough for you, or our- our baby.”

“Stop it darlin’. Please stop. I- I need—”

“I can’t live like this-!” you cry out. His hand covers your mouth entirely as his mind tries to process what he needs to say to you. Christ. What does he need to say to you? Everything and nothing all at once. He thinks he should start with I love you. But is he prepared to open that can of worms?

“I need… you. I’m gonna leave her, yeah? My wife. Let’s… try again. Me and you, hah? I won’t pull out this time, let me… let me—”

“Tojiiiii—”

“You’re good enough, baby, more than good enough. I’ll cum inside and we can try again. I need to, I need to.”

Your tears stream endlessly but silently. Is this really what you want? Do you want him to break up his family to satiate your unfulfilled desires? It doesn’t matter. You find yourself nodding anyway. Perhaps it will dull the ache inside of you. It could be the plaster to cover to puncture wound in your aching heart; it’s been bleeding since that day.

Toes begin to curl as he continuously batters the spongy centre that spells your eventual undoing with his fat cock head. He isn’t doing much better. Nobody and nothing will compare to the rush and the high he feels as when your precious cunt swallows him again and again.

“Gonna- cum, with me. Please, baby. Cum with me now.” Toji pants.

Your lips are on his again, both of you focusing on your impending climaxes. The way you break away to moan momentarily before smothering each other in kisses yet again is such a lewd, romantic, high that you can’t get enough of. He pounds you perfectly and it’s an arrangement neither of you have been able to let go of after all of these years.

“Oh God, I’m cumming- cumming baby…” he alerts you. You’re practically choking on your own orgasm as it swims through you. Nails dig into his back as you try and hold onto the feeling for as long as you can. He fills you with his warmth, heaving like a desperate animal while he breeds you to the brim.

What have you done?

Time wasn’t a healer for either of you. The days got harder and harder and you couldn’t even stomach looking at him. Each time you looked at him, you saw what could have been. What should have been. The father of your son. The man who was going to teach him everything he knew and help your little boy cause all kinds of mischief for you.

The man you thought could keep you both safe.

That’s how he found himself married to a woman he would never love as much as he loved you. There was a drift, it was aggressive and painful, yet necessary. But you found yourself brought back together a few years after Megumi was born. You were practically an aunt to his son. A second mother, even. A sordid little secret.

You don’t hate Megumi, you just wish he was yours.

The pair of you got changed after he had his post fuck cigarette, knowing you couldn’t risk dallying for fear of being caught. You didn’t doubt for a minute that if you called him in a few weeks and told him you were carrying his child, he’d kidnap Megumi and run away with you to start your new family life together. And you would love that, you’d love him. You’d love it all.

But, it isn’t right. Is it?

He grabs his car keys, readying himself to drive you home to be alone with your dark thoughts. Before you step outside, though, something plagues your mind. A question that you simply must know the answer to. He looks scared, honestly. The way you’re facing him and eyeing him up as the same words twist and circle through your mind. A heavy hand rests on your waist, the other on your cheek. He’s scared, it’s obvious, but he’s still encouraging you to talk.

“Do you ever think about Rocco?” you ask him, genuinely curious. Toji has never felt the need to bring him up, this is the first you’ve discussed him in years. It kills you to think that Toji has managed to shut out thoughts of his unborn son while you are plagued with them each and every waking moment of your pointless life.

And there it is. That warm, kind smile, that is the Toji you know and love.

“All of the time.”

Four simple words have you breaking down like you did that day in the bathtub. Your head is pulled into his chest as he holds you close and tightly, allowing you to bawl every emotion onto him. You can’t control yourself and you don’t want to stop. It’s fine, he thinks. It’s clear that you need it. At least you know something today that you didn’t know yesterday. One piece of information that might take some of the burden off your own shoulders.

At least you know you aren’t alone.

this is a repost from my old account

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gatorbites-imagines · 5 months

Note

Hi!! Hope everything is going well!

Could I Please ask for some bottom buggy (mayhaps with some watersports since I saw you had a interest) or some ftm crocodile being fucked into submission!

Have a nice day.

Ftm Sir Crocodile x male reader

Ficlet

I love Sir Crocodile so much 🗣️ 🗣️

Reader is part of Buggy’s crew, cuz I thought that would be hilarious. Reader doesn’t have a devil fruit, but is still super kickass. Hes kind of the information gatherer, smuggler, etc, for the Buggy crew. Reader is also normal human height.

Mixed terminology for Crocs bits. Also, breeding/pregnancy? kink warning ig. but its just mentioned for the fantasy.

The Cross Guild appeared great for any outsider or lesser in the know members, which was most of them. They all saw your captain as someone great and almost godly, thinking he was so much more than he was, but you had been with him for many years, even before the Buggy pirates had even been created. Shortly after the execution of Rogers, Buggy had stumbled into your path and had accidentally saved your life, and from then on you had been by his side.

Most people thought of you as something akin to an accountant or treasurer, wearing an outfit that looked very much like that of a ringmaster, long red tailcoat and top hat and all. You were always one of the first to run away, giving you a reputation of a coward who couldn’t fight.

The only one who truly knew how much of a threat you could be, would be your captain and his inner circle, which you were also part of. You might not have been the strongest physically compared to someone like Mihawk, but no one could gather information like you could, smuggle like you could, or have someone “disappear” like you could. Your network was so extensive that even the one they called Joker, who you knew was none other than Donquixote Doflamingo, was jealous.

That was why you knew everything about Sir Crocodile and Mihawk before the day was over when the Cross Guild was formed. You cowered off to the side, keeping up your weak act as you flinched at their raised voices or the light reflecting off Crocodiles golden claw.

They believed you a weak fool who’s only worth was your quick mind and ability to calculate numbers quicker than most computers, which resulted in them mostly dismissing you. It was a role you basked in and felt comfortable, using it to keep your true identity under wraps. That was until they pushed your captain too far, as Crocodile especially seemed to take great pleasure in antagonizing and hurting your captain.

You were protective, most pirates were, if they felt any sense of loyalty to their captain. It was because of that, that you dug up a trusted contact, a celestial dragon with greater access to seastone than anyone else you knew. Using measurements from the moment’s clothes had to be made, a pair of cuffs in just the perfect size soon arrived to you with the post.

It was easy to press Crocodiles buttons, to get him worked up by acting stupid and pathetic, just the way you knew made his blood boil. It was even easier to enrage him so far that he chased after you, so blinded by his anger that he didn’t even notice how you kept avoiding his sand, or how you were leading him further and further away from the rest of the guild.

When he finally caught up, Crocodile caged you against the wall, hook digging into the drywall as he almost snarled down at you, cigar crunched between his teeth as his purple eyes blazed. But mild confusion crossed his face as your fearful expression dropped, his body straightening as your eyes met his head on. Before Crocodile could order an explanation, a feeling of weakness crashed through his body, making his knees buckle enough that you had to catch him, supporting his towering weight and bulk.

His vision swam as you started dragging him along, his feet dragging along the floor because of his height compared to your own. Crocodile felt dizzy and mildly nauseous, his eyes finally catching the heavy bands around his wrist, the one he still had left. “ssseastone?” he slurred out, voice lighter than the growl you were used too, cigar long forgotten somewhere along the journey.

In the beginning, you had planned on torturing him, the blades strapped to your person burning at the thought, but as you threw him down almost carelessly on a barely clad bed, a different through passed through your mind.

A slight thrill ran down your spine as his purple eyes burnt into you, his usual anger still present, but mixed with something else, something deeper and hungrier. Soft pants left Crocodiles lips, sounding faintly struggled as the seastone drained the power from his body, leaving him limp and pliant.

You could see the heat rising to Crocodiles cheekbones as you started stripping off your usual getup, tailcoat slid off your shoulders and neatly folded, top hat placed down with care. “What the hell are you doing…” Crocodile rasped from the bed, his pupils blown as an unfamiliar need unfolded inside him, the familiar thrum of pleasure running through body.

Maybe it was his weakened state, but he swore his cunt was pulsing with need, especially as you unbuttoned the stark white shirt you always wore, revealing a tightly muscled and heavily scarred body underneath, leather straps adorned with vials and weapons stretched across your torso.

Crocodile tried to shuffle his legs, maybe to squeeze his thighs together, or to spread them further apart, he wasn’t sure, but all he could do was a minimal twitch and jolt. “I planned on cutting you up, making you beg for mercy. But from the looks of it… you wouldn’t mind some other kind of discipline” you murmur, almost stalking towards him where Crocodile was splayed out on top of the white sheets.

You could see all his muscles tense as you let your hands climb up his legs, up his thighs and stomach, traveling all the way up his arms towards his hook. A choked off noise leaves Crocodile as you remove his hook with ease, like you had done it a thousand times before, placing it off to the side with care.

“Behave yourself” you tell him, squeezing the sides of his jaw to make his lips part. Crocodile tried to growl or snap a threat, to snap his teeth at you or somehow fight back, but his body was mostly unresponsive, his tongue feeling thick and useless in his mouth.

A shiver of anticipation ran through Crocodile as you moved again, settling between his thick spread thighs. Your eyes met as you reach for his belt, your brow lifting as if asking if he wanted you to stop. You may be a pirate, but you had class and manners, at least when it came to stuff like this.

But when all Crocodile responded with was a sour expression and glare, you make easy work of his belt and slacks, tugging them down his hips and legs, throwing them off to the side with little care. Your disregard for his clothes made Crocodile grumble, but the noise was quickly silenced as you pressed your entire hand against his slick underwear, fingers teasing his hard t-cock and soaked folds.

“Tsk tsk, look at you, bet you just need someone to put you in your place, is that it?” you mumble in an almost mocking tone, looking up at him with an almost feral hunger in your eyes. Crocodile chokes on the words that want to form in his throat, some kind of rebuttal perhaps, that he would never want someone as low as you to do anything to him, but as you pinch his cock between your fingers, it morphs into a shaky moan.

Crocodile’s boxers as easily pulled off, thrown to the floor with a damp plap, making his face redden further as you only find amusement in the obvious sign of his arousal. Kicking off your pants and boxers, you crawl up the bed and sit between his thick thighs, pushing them further apart to expose where he only grows slicker, hole clenching around nothing as if begging you to fill it.

“What would they say, seeing the great Sir Crocodile, spread out like this, ready to take the cock of a feeble weak treasurer” you taunt, pressing your hips closer to his, so that you could drag the tip of your cock up and down through his folds. The act has Crocodile arching as good as he can with the cuff on, his eyes squeezing shut as he clenches his jaw, a breathy noise leaving him, folds only growing slicker around you.

Maybe it was your size difference, with you being average human size, compared to Crocodiles almost 9 feet, or maybe it was his gut deep arousal, but his hole didn’t need much prep for you to be able to fit inside.

That didn’t mean you were just gonna give it to him, since this was supposed to be a lesson. A stuttery moan spills almost silently from Crocodiles lips as your fingers rub through his folds, barely pressing against where he wants you the most. He had never imagined himself in a situation like this, splayed out and dripping for you, someone he had always just seen as a nuisance, but here he was.

“Come on Crocodile… ask nicely” your tone is almost cruel as you push only two fingers inside him, barely felt because of his size, but just enough to rub against his wet gummy insides and leave him aching for more. Crocodiles jaw clenches, barring his teeth as his head weakly rolls to the side, as if to hide his face into the sheets.

“Or… I could just leave you here, thighs spread open, cunt glistening with want. Im sure someone will pass by, and who wouldn’t want a chance to fill this” as if to exaggerate your point, you push two more fingers into his slick hole, burying them as deep as possible into Crocodiles wet insides, punching a gasp out of him.

Crocodile seems to debate it, if he wants to put his pride aside for someone like you, but his thoughtprocess is knocked off course as you pinch his cock with your free hand, twisting it cruelly. Had he not been wearing the seastone cuff, his thighs would have clamped shut and a shout would have left him, but now all his body could do was tense up as a wet keen tumbled out of him.

“P…please” Crocodile finally mumbles, voice small and almost shy, but it can barely be heard over the wet slick sounds of your fingers thrusting in and out of him, his wetness running down your palm and wrist in the process.

“Hm?” you hum, the questioning tone in it clear, as if you didn’t hear him at all, giving his cock another twist just because you could. “fuck me… please…” is gasped out, Crocodiles insides clenching around your slick fingers as they rub and prod around inside him.

Your fingers movements slow to a stop, silence filling the room long enough for Crocodile to peek an eye open and look down at you. Your eyes are intense as they bore into his, the predatory flare in them making Crocodiles insides quiver. “Normally id demand better than that, but I’m starting to pity you” you scoff out, withdrawing your fingers from his hold with a slick noise.

Instead of wiping them off on the sheets, you use the large amount of slick that had gathered in your palm to slick up your shaft, releasing a huffed exhale as Crocodiles eyes widen at the sight. “I’ve thought about making you ride me, so you’ll have to make yourself take it, but we can’t do that right now, can we” you eye the cuff around his one wrist, making Crocodile growl and spit out a weak warbled “fuck you”

His insult carries no heat, clearly only for show, his glare quickly wiped off his face as you finally push inside him. Crocodile needs little time to adjust, resulting in you almost immediately setting a bruising rough pace, drawing in and out of him with loud wet slick noises, his hole gripping onto you as he gasps and moans.

Reaching down, you push his shirt up just enough to splay a hand across his lower stomach, a foxlike grin spreading across your lips as you watch his hips weakly roll into your own. “If you weren’t such an asshole, I could fuck you whenever. Imagine that Crocodile, walking around, cunt leaking my cum, as you try to play tough.” You chuckle darkly, tone thick and hungry in the way only a predatory animal could possess.

As your cock rams into that sensitive spot inside him, Crocodile is finally starting to realize you are truly more than you seem, his cunt drooling a wet puddle under him on the sheets as you take him with a new hunger, a glint appearing in your eyes as your hand presses down harder on his stomach.

“I could knock you up you know, right here.” Is hissed out as you bottom out inside Crocodile, the words making him tighten up and shiver in want. “No one would find you so scary then, would they Crocodile. Waddling around, fat with my kid” you purr, letting both your hands splay across his stomach. It was all fantasy, but by God did it make Crocodile wet and wanting. Something about the fantasy of you, some lesser subordinate knocking him, Sir Crocodile, up, had him seeing double.

The seastone didn’t help with his woozy state, all attempts at forming words only becoming half formed and slurred, Crocodiles eyes going wet and glassy as that familiar feeling spread through his body. “in… inside me…” Crocodile slurs as you curse to yourself, clearly close to the finish line as well. Had it not been for the cuffs, he would have thrown his legs around you, squeezing you against his body to keep you inside him, but all he could do now was beg.

Crocodiles pride crumbled as your fingers squeezed his cock one last time, a pure orgasmic expression crossing his face as he gasped and moaned, his entire body twitching weakly as he came, wetting your cock and the sheets even further as the feeling thrummed through his entire body.

With a deep groan you bottom out inside Crocodile for a last time, letting your eyes squeeze shut as you spill inside him, coating his insides in a thick coat of white. Crocodile whimpers weakly at the feeling, trying to squeeze around you as if to milk your length for more.

He slumps against the sheets further than he already is, eyes falling shut in a relaxed exhausted expression. Crocodile barely notices as you pull out, white leaking out from between his folds to join his own mess on the sheets. He barely even notices you cleaning him up, only twitching and gasping softly when you clean up between his legs.

Its only when the seastone cuff leaves his wrist that Crocodile returns to himself somewhat, as the familiar feeling of his devilfruit washes through his body again. Squinting his eyes open, he catches sight of you getting dressed again, tucking on your shirt, then your coat, and lastly placing your hat on top of your head.

Even with his devilfruit returned to him, Crocodile still feels weak and exhausted, but the good type of exhausted one only gets after a good fuck. Part of him wants to ask you to stay, to hold him and pet his hair, to maybe mumble more dirty fantasies about knocking him up, and how you’d make him live as your pretty little housewife. But instead, Crocodile just grunts to get your attention, his attempt to demand to know where you are going.

“I have to get back to the others, since ill be taking over your duties for the rest of the day and tomorrow” you say, voice resolute and not allowing any denial or struggle. And normally Crocodile would have growled and rejected anyone taking over his duties, but for some reason, the idea of you taking care of him made him relax deeper into the bed, muscles lax and thoughts empty and calm for once.

Approaching him, you press a soft kiss to his forehead before telling him “this room is hidden away from everyone else, so take all the time you need. Ill check up on you later” as you pat his cheek. After telling him where the bathroom is, where he could find towels and replacement sheets and blankets, you were on your way, leaving Crocodile on his lonesome.

It took a while, but he finally pushed himself into a seated position before getting to his feet. The feeling of your cum trickling down the insides of his thighs as the familiar heat of arousal burning inside him once more, making Crocodile shuffle towards the bathroom you had pointed him towards. Even though you had just left, he could still get himself off a few more times from just the memory alone.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be disciplined by you, he wondered how you’d react if he caused issues with your smuggling routes. The idea sent a line of heat up his spine as he stepped into the shower, hand quickly traveling between his thighs, fingers burying themselves into his still sensitive hole, fantasies of hungry glare and cruel fingers filling his mind.

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milf-murdock · 6 months

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The Scare: Part II

A/N: Y'all this is filthyyyyyyy. Absolutely fucking disgusting and I cannot get enough of it omg. I think I blacked out while writing this.

Check out Part 1 here

Warnings: Dark!Simon AU, breeding kink, pregnancy mentions, baby trapping, creepy behavior, red flags (dreamy), and if there's anything else I need to tag just let me know!

Putting the read more right at top because babes we are just jumping right into it ;,)

Simon is legendary when it comes to details. Nothing gets past this man. Especially, when he’s on a mission. And right now? Simon was a man on a mission.

“Fuck babe,” he grunted as he pressed your legs even farther back, your knees nearly to your ears. “So fuckin’ tight.” His thrusts were deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust.

You were beyond response. Not only had he made you come on his fingers while he sucked on that pretty little clit, but he’d made sure to put a couple pillows underneath you, propping up your hips for him, opening yourself to a new angle that had you seeing fucking stars. All you could do was moan and gasp as Simon gripped your hips and drove his cock into you at a relentless pace.

He had seen this position online, when he was conducting his late-night research on a private, completely locked-down browser, searching up the best ways to get you pregnant.

___

He knew that he needed to lock you down, to ensure that there was no way you were going anywhere. He wanted you all to himself. And he wanted everyone to know just who you fucking belonged to.

You’d be the prettiest mum, Simon thought to himself as he scrolled through the online articles, absentmindedly stroking his cock. You were fast asleep in the next room, and he was so thankful. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, round with his baby, heavy breasts, your supple curves growing even more. His fist moved faster, sliding over his thick cock, pulling back the skin to tease the bright red head. If he got you pregnant now, you’d be due just at the end of summer. The thought of you in one of your gorgeous sundresses, heavily and adorably pregnant with his baby, was enough to send him over the edge, hips rutting up into his hand. He tried to conceal his groan as the hot spurts of come landed on his bare chest.

___

Simon is phenomenal when it comes to details. Which is how he has your cycle fucking memorized. Which is why he has you spread on your bed, legs in the air, pounding into you with everything he has.

He knows this is your ovulation window. Sure, he had made sure to fill you up yesterday, and he’ll make damn sure to fill you up tomorrow, too, just to be safe. But today? Today was when you were most fertile. He knows, because he’s been secretly tracking your ovulation, taking your temperature while you sleep to make the most accurate prediction. He had been so disappointed to see that negative test last month. His hopes had been so high when he saw that you were late. Only to be dashed the next morning when your period had started. He coddled you through it, of course, bringing you medicine, hot tea, heating pad, endless snuggles. But the whole time, he was planning how this month would be different.

He’d knock you up if it was the last thing he fucking did.

___

“Such a good girl, taking my fuckin’ cock,” Simon groaned, pulling back his hips, all the way so just the tip rested inside you.

“I can’t—it’s too,” you sputter, absolutely cock drunk.

“Ah, but you can, love,” Simon smirked to himself as he thrusted deep into your weeping pussy, all the way to the hilt. He reveled in the way you screamed in pleasure. He continued the pattern: pulling out, thrusting in, picking up the pace. His heavy balls bounced off your ass as his pace picked up. You were getting close, he could tell, your body starting to stiffen, your cries getting louder. He used his broad hands to grab your hips and hold you steady as he hammered into you, relentless in his pursuit.

“Gonna come for me, dove?” He teased, his voice deep and earnest, filled with lust. He needed you to finish. He’d read an old wives tale saying the seed was more likely to take root when the mother finishes. The thought alone nearly had Simon coming right then and there. Your shaky voice brought him back to reality. “Yes, uh huh, don’t forget—“ you screamed as he thrusted in you particularly hard. “Pull out,” you mumbled, hazy in the oncoming fog of your orgasm. “Fuck Simon, fuck, fuck FUCK,” you screamed as your orgasm overtook you.

Simon watched as your eyes rolled back into your head and your back arched off the gentle stack of pillows, pushing your breasts forward. Simon couldn’t help the mental image that popped into his head: you, swollen with his child, those same breasts full of milk, ready to nourish your child, his child. Everyone would know how he had pleased you, claimed you, made you his.

Simon’s hips stuttered as he came, a resounding growl of pleasure escaping his lips as he slammed into your cunt a final time. His seed flooded your cervix, filling you with a warmth you were too blissed out to recognize. Ropes and ropes of his spend filled you, his cock twitching inside you, as Simon pressed his face against your chest, breathing heavily.

“Fuckin hell, love,” he moaned. “Gonna be the fucking death of me.”

He slid his softening cock out of you, careful to use his fingers to scoop any escaping seed back into your aching cunt. He silently tutted to himself. We can’t be having that, now can we?

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine #dark!simon riley x reader #dark!Simon Riley #tw pregnancy mention #tw baby trapping

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pfhwrittes · 16 days

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child free!reader thoughts that have been bubbling away in the brain soup document below the cut.

kyle garrick x gn!reader but with appearances from john price, john mactavish, simon riley and the beloathed brandon (who i've shamelessly stolen from @dragonnarrative-writes)

tags/warnings: pregnancy mention right at the end of the fic (not the reader character), fluff, vague allusions to eating at restaurants (non descriptive).

(banner by @/cafekitsune)

child free!reader who has "child free, that means i don't want kids - not even yours!" as the first line on their dating profile.

child free!reader who goes on a date with john price. he's charming, polite and funny. john tells you early doors that he misread your profile but he didn't want to be rude and cancel the date on short notice so he hopes you don't mind sharing a meal with him. you don't mind as he's good company and takes care of the bill like a gentleman and apologises for wasting your time. you part ways amicably and both wish each other well with the dating scene.

child free!reader whose next date is with john mactavish. he says he doesn't mind if you call him johnny. he's good company and makes you laugh so hard that other people in the restaurant look over at your table. you're having a great time but he brings up his flatmate simon an awful lot. you end up gently suggesting that maybe johnny would prefer to take simon out for dinner instead. johnny gapes at you like a fish for a minute before realising, that yeah, he really would. you exchange numbers at the end of the date and ask him to keep you in the loop with how things go with the mysterious simon.

child free!reader who goes on a date with brandon. it's a crap date. he's late, doesn't apologise, presumes you want to head back to his place and gets annoyed when you pull the brakes on the whole thing. brandon then tells you that he doesn't care any way as he has to pick up his kid from their mum's house in the morning. you leave him to foot the bill and call johnny on your way home to complain about how crap the date was and how you should never have agreed to go on a date that your friend vouched for.

child free!reader who goes out to brunch with johnny and simon the following weekend. you spend a good portion of the brunch watching johnny lean up against simon with a little smile on your face and waggle your eyebrows knowingly when simon steps outside to smoke a cigarette. when simon rejoins you both, you tell them how you're considering deleting your dating profile and embracing singledom forever. simon makes you promise to keep your profile for at least another three days which is weirdly specific but you agree.

child free!reader who gets a message on the dating profile from kyle garrick two days later. you're pretty blunt about not wanting kids and how you won't change your mind and neither are you looking for some short term fling. despite that, kyle is friendly, funny and a little bit flirty over messages so you agree to go out on a date with him. he's even prettier in person than in his photos. kyle is flirty without being pushy, asks you questions about your hobbies without prompting, and he admits that it was simon that gave him a gentle push to message you when you explain that a friend stopped you from deleting your profile before agreeing to go on a date with him.

child free!reader who agrees to go on a second date with kyle after he tells you that he got a vasectomy at 21 because he knew even then that he never wanted to be a dad.

child free!reader that messages the group chat you have with simon and johnny absolutely gushing about kyle's eyes, arms and smile. johnny replies with endless eggplant emojis and simon sends a singular thumbs up.

child free!reader that after four fantastic dates (and one mind blowing night together) decides to delete their dating profile after kyle sleepily mumbles into your neck about wanting to be exclusive.

(and a little bonus scene that i just can't scrap)

child free!reader who goes as kyle's plus one to john price's wedding a year later and you both laugh yourselves silly when you tell your boyfriend that you went out on a very nice date with the groom once upon a time. you toast the bride with matching flutes of a non-alcoholic mocktail as she rests her hand on her very pregnant stomach at the sweetheart table she shares with her new husband.

#pfh headcannons #tw pregnancy mention #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #x reader fic #gn!reader #kg #jm #jp #sr #i just think child free readers should get a little bit of love on this blog

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fxtalitygod · 1 month

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X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

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