#I’m bleeding out of my vagina right now

[serpientesuenos]

🫀 feliz Aries szn 🫀

[imamuzansimp-oldblog-seoseoya]

Hi, may I make a hc request on the uppermoons + Muzan reacting to their human s/o getting her period and BAD cramps & how they would comfort her (if they’d even do it lmao😭) yk.. since blood = food, but they still love their s/o

Uppermoons + Muzan reacting to Fem!S/O with bad period cramps

content warnings: fluff, suggestive, manga spoilers, periods, mentions of blood and cramps, cuddles

word count: ~700

a/n: eeeeeeee!!!!! my first proper request! i’m so excited! i hope you don’t mind i only did the first three uppermoons + muzan for now, but i’ll come back to the others another time.

a/n 2: this is a tad bit rushed since i wrote this right before going to sleep

Muzan

okay but he lowkey has no clue what’s happening

even though he’s had multiple wives in the past, he was never really there. thus, he had no clue what to do

at first he just kinda stood there like 🕴️

but then he realized he should probably do something so he asked you what you needed

“my dear, what do you require?” he’d say. “it hurts…” you whine. your period had recently started and the cramps hurt like hell. “what hurts, did someone bring harm to you? whoever did shall die where they stand!” and you momentarily panic because nobody had hurt you. “no! zannie, nobody hurt me! don’t worry! it’s just my period!” you yelped, worried for the poor soul that narrowly might’ve escaped muzan’s wrath. “your…. period?” it’s rare that muzan appears bewildered, so this is a sight. “yea… basically for about a week every month, women have their periods. basically, it’s a time where we bleed out of our vagina and unfortunately it comes with way. too. many. cramps. there’s also other things like cravings and mood swings.” you explained. you noticed muzan started to get a hungry look in his eye. he had thought he’d smelled blood, but knowing it was from you and not because you were injured, he was resisting the urge to devour it that instant. “are you currently in pain due to cramps?” he asked, ever so politely. you nodded, it hurt like nothing else. “heat usually helps…” you muttered. muzan began to approach you. he snapped, and in just seconds the strum of a biwa was heard and a warm blanket and cup of tea appeared before you. muzan then proceeded to cuddle closer to you in the bed, and before you knew it, he was drinking your menstrual blood as he held your blanket covered waist. thank goodness the tea didn’t spill.

(i sorta got carried away)

Kokushibo

since he had a wife and kid (that he cared for) back when he was human, he knows how to handle it.

the second he smells blood he knows what’s happening and he enters your room with ice cream, mochi, tea, etc. and a pack that has been heated by the sun

he can control himself around your blood, especially because i believe the thought of drinking your blood would disgust him

“koku….” you said weakly as you watched him walk in the room. “my dear…” all six of his eyes softened when he laid eyes on you. “how’d you know?” you asked. “i’m a demon and your lover,  i could sense it.” he rested the heated pack on your crotch and gave you the sweets before he cuddled close. soon enough the cramps faded as your eyes dropped and you fell asleep in kokushibo’s arms.

(omg that was so short compared to muzan’s i’m sorry)

dōma

knows about periods. this is a fact.

drinks your blood. another fact.

nothing else to say except this:

dōma walked in seeing you curled up in a ball on your bed. he chuckled and said in his will-bending voice: “you poor little thing, you’re on your period aren’t you darling?” and you just laid there in pain and whimpered a ‘yes’. he walked closer to you, before putting a comforting hand to your cheek. “well, baby, did you know that stimulation can help with cramps?” he worded a question, though your answer wouldn’t change his imminent actions. “s-stimulation?” you looked up at him.  “oh, baby, you know what I mean…”

akaza

another guy who knows what it is

so respectful and he doesn’t eat women so obviously he doesn’t drink your blood

he just lets you curl up into him as he rubs your tummy 🥹

i’m sorry but akaza got me like 🧎‍♀️

“kaza…” you whimpered as best you could. “‘t hurts” you whined. your boyfriend stepped into the room. wordlessly, he approached you and got under the blankets. the first word he spoke occurred once he latched on as the big spoon with his big hands rubbing your stomach gently. “baby… don’t worry… i’ll always keep you from pain…” you leaned into his touch and stayed like that for the rest of the evening.

[ms0milk]

pitch in a teapot

sanemi x inn keeper

reader has a business to run and sanemi can't help but watch you do it well, barking orders, teaching firmly, smiling and scurrying around like a fancy little bell. There's something he's been trying to get out of you all afternoon but chores keep stealing you away. cw MDNI, frustrated thunderstorm quickie, reader w vagina + penetration, slight manhandling, desperation and a little bit of sass. 4.1k

thank you so much my darling @neiptune for requesting a little sanemi this @ficsforgaza season! you were so generous and patient waiting for this to come out, I hope you enjoy angel

Six bowls of soup upstairs and an old man somewhere in the bowels of the inn with a limp and half a shoe. Right, okay, send two girls to the garden– no. One to the garden and one to the kitchen. That’s dinner taken care of as long as the scholar with the fat pony– donkey, maybe– doesn’t regurgitate an encore of the rakugo performance that couldn’t have been funny in the first place.

You roll the sleeves of your apron slightly tighter in their tasuki. The cyprus walls of your inn bleed fragrance before summer thunderstorms so you make a mental note too, to order storm doors for the second floor before the clouds go black and blue. Incensed breeze, juniper, wisteria, paper windows, one foot, the next, again, each step down the wooden hallway is a quiet knock. Each summer at home is heavier, heavier, and this year is the flood.

“Oi.”

“Not my name,” you blow from the corner of your mouth without changing pace. That breath was ready to jump off your lip before the demon slayer even called out to you; he hates doing nothing and hates even more what great pains your staff take to avoid his room.

“It reeks.”

“Excuse me?” You huff and this time do turn enough to interrogate him via glare. Sanemi, ridiculous, folds his arms in the doorway of a very nice room, a too nice room, without any of the appropriate embarrassment of someone who has been lying in wait. The stippled blue pattern of his robes doesn’t suit him. They clash with his ugly scars and uglier attitude but don't keep him from wearing the chest wide open like a well paid rent boy.

“Stinks.”

“Whatever of, princess?”

He growls and drops his arms as you brace for the lecture, “Demons.”

His heart is incapable of peace and yours with it, and every summer he’s assigned a post in your mountains by a master you’ve never met and who couldn’t possibly be sane themself. Four years of this. Four years of twelve weeks of sixteen-hour-days of the world’s most neurotic demon slayer.

“The whole property is wide open for any fuck to attack.”

You adjust your grip on a slender bucket handle and the cloth in your other arm and continue back downhall, “You always say that.”

“I’m always right,” he nags and pushes free of his bedroom.

You met Sanemi when you were sixteen and still working under your parents. He was a brand new hashira then and prone to fist fights, spitfire, bloodshed. Nothing special. Nothing new. Hashira come and die and new hashira come again. They arrive in flashbangs and ego and leave like everyone else, in pieces.

Your parents were calm, they had peace and practice, they ran this inn, they welcomed Sanemi with his summer floods. They loved him, took his counsel and died by it, and they probably wouldn’t have lost an old man inside the house. But this is your inn now. They aren’t here anymore and at your inn sometimes old men get misplaced.

“And what would you like me to do about all that, sir?”

The hashira keeps an easy military pace behind you, “The gardens need to be reinforced and–”

“Nine acres of wisteria arbor need reinforcement? Yeah I’ll get right on that.”

“The storm will take out ha–!”

“And the other half will hold until autumn. Go berate the kitchen staff for their unpreparedness– they’re all unarmed you know? Totally unprofessional.”

“Y/n–”

“Shinazugawa,” you spin and it all comes out as a threat, a hiss, instead of just a whisper so much so that the water in your bucket nips up your sleeve. “I am the lady of this establishment and you will not address me so familiarly.”

Dark cyprus, cool hallways, the undeniable scent of thunder. Sanemi rests his hand on his sword to glare like he does when his hands don’t quite know what to do with themselves. His eyes roam, quiet under long lilly lashes until they have traced the shapes your tasuki makes with your waist and rise again to your gaze. “We’re not fucking finished.”

“Go eat,” you snap and turn back down the hallway, red at the ears. Lady of the establishment, great job.

Feet aren’t complicated, bone to tendon, tendon to muscle, muscle to skin, one step and another. You tilt your head back and an eager girl rises to wipe sweat from your temple.

“Like this,” you hum and tilt the old man’s heel in your palm. He winces but lets you continue while the girl stares on. “When the skin is split like this it can’t receive moisture– sorry sir, better?” You set his foot on the hammock of cloth between your thighs, “So you need to soak it first before applying salve. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” the girl parrots, still unable to look away.

“Yes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smile through an eye roll but gesture for her to come sit beside you. You’ve been like this since he’s met you, too old for your body.

You’ll train anyone who asks, hire any runaway girl, absorb the cost of thieves when runaways are exactly that, and you will wash old men’s feet before eating dinner with the self preservation of a samurai. Famously long-lived, those. Sanemi has to look away when you take scissors to the gnarled yellow nails and almost covers his ears when your pupil starts asking you questions about it.

“Feels good right?” You chuckle at the man’s response to your ministrations, and then a little louder, when you realize just how seriously the girl beside you is trying to focus. Birdsong. “Do you have companions on your pilgrimage, sir?” He shakes his head.

You lean away again so the girl can dab your brow and push back stray hairs and turn back to explain overdetailed care instructions to this man who is obviously so embarrassed he can’t hear a word you’re saying. Something about tallow and socks, Sanemi tries to read the syllables off your lips and loses focus the second time your teeth catch damp and pillowed pink.

The man seated in front of you grumbles some and flexes a few fingers around his cane like old men do, but doesn’t protest your instructions. He nods instead of thanking you like a real tough guy.

“Fetch a new pair of sandals from the garden shed,” you instruct your girl who bolts up and out the door past Sanemi without so much as a breath. “And you,” you turn back to your patient, “keep the nails short, you hear?”

He nods again, increasingly avoidant of eye contact. Sanemi tenses in the dark outside the guest’s complimentary room and hates ungrateful fucks enough for both of you.

“And don’t skip any more meals.” 

The man’s wrinkled skin unfolds at his eyes and he pulls his legs back underneath him. You dry your hands after scrubbing clean in a soapy pot and stand to collect your tools. “I couldn’t find you this evening and I hate to lose track of my guests at mealtime.”

You are going to feed every stray you find until the economy collapses. Peasant monks, pickpockets– you’d put up a demon if its stomach growled. After too many unnoticed minutes watching you, following the white x between your patterned shoulders, eating your voice, warming the hallway, you finally pick out Sanemi’s eyes in the dark behind the sliding door. He’s waiting for you. You clear your throat for the broke old pilgrim one last time, “You don’t owe any money. Do not skip meals.” And bid him a wordless good night. The door cracks shut behind you. It isn’t late enough for sunset. Thunderstorms make it so dark so quickly and they mask the scent of blood with all their rain and iron. “What is it?” You deadpan and shuffle towards the stairs with all the confidence in the world a tenured hashira will work to keep up with you.

“Not fucking finishied with you,” Sanemi grunts, working to keep up with you. The apron over your service kimono forces your hips to sway in tight little circles and Sanemi sucks his teeth. He doesn’t look away.

Through the hallway and down the servant stairs, socks on polished wood, you tap, tap, tap nimbly to your next assignment. The room below radiates heat and life. “What do you want?” you whisper.

“I–” he slips barefoot on the slick last step into the kitchen and you stumble in your newly damp right sock. “Euh, I–”

“Mimiko!”

“Lady?”

“Wet.” You point behind you, palming Sanemi out of the way, and a free washerwoman dives for the spot with the rag tucked into her belt. The kitchen rages silently in the easternmost corner of the mansion; men and women sweat over donabe, rinse their body weights in rice, and beat little fires with littler fans. Two women and a boy linger just outside the paper door in clothes that match yours for formality and Sanemi assumes as he weaves through the bustle, that they are responsible for bringing food to customers and for doing everything they can not to sweat through their pretty borrowed uniforms. Your own kimono is purple tonight, a cool little shape bobbing nimbly between flames.

Sanemi opens his mouth to shout after you and shuts it again just as quickly to grind his teeth instead as you lift your apron over your head. You let a girl feed you a spoonful of something on your way out of the room and she wiggles when you nod several times before ducking through the door.

Laundry next, then a double check of the firewood cache and the whole while Sanemi occupies your shadow. A few times you hiss over your shoulder at him for looking so gruff, for looking like a bodyguard, for making your customers imagine your distrust of them, always you bite back before he can get more than a few words out but mostly you just scurry in preparation for the storm picking up warm wind outside.

You avoid the entrance with him so close in tow, armed and obstinate, but make a show of circling both tatami halls where guests come after dinner on rainy nights to stretch and smoke by the brazier with strangers. A female musician trills her koto. The sky hasn’t let loose a single drop of rain yet but wet hangs like a fog and thunder scents the air ahead of its arrival. As Sanemi trails the outer walkway of the mansion behind you, the sky bleeds with the last of day’s light in the cracks between bruised and racing storm clouds.

“Second floor secure?” You confirm with the men slotting thick panels into grooves where paper doors usually go. They nod in their white uniforms. Beyond the porches, beyond the east garden and its fat green vegetables, beyond dogwood trees and sarusuberi and maples that have begun to tremble violently in winds buffeted by humidity and nightfall, the wisteria arbor glows. You radiate a cool purple pull beside him just like your flowers.

The arbor surrounds the property on all sides for half a mile and all three paths away from the house are barred by gates of twisting wisteria vine. The inn belongs to your family, but does not serve Ubuyashiki. Theirs is not the only house that discovered a use for these flowers. Yours is not the only wisteria business in the country. 

“Do you see that?” You murmur at so much the same tone as the wind that Sanemi almost cannot hear you.

Three years ago he left before the end of summer, called away to investigate a massacre nearby. A tree fell that season. It crushed a straight path through the edge of the mountain forest and onto your property where, lured by so much blood and wine, a pair of sister demons descended through the broken orchard and devoured everyone who wasn’t fast enough to hide in the flowers like the slayer suggested they should in an emergency. Your parents evacuated the house and died in it with the guests who couldn’t walk on their own. Nestled under three braided vines at the far edge of the property, you listened to them die.

The winds kick up sand from your vegetable garden and you step off the porch into the start of the storm. Tiny and purple. “Y/n!” Sanemi lunges for you. His sword whips the meat of his thigh and you step out of his way before he can grab any part he intended to. The men on the porch watch you both scramble through the backyard. You snap at the strange guest and duck when he swings a hand towards you, hop in your sandals when he tries to trip you into his arms and dart away like a dragonfly.

“Get back here!”

“Go inside!”

“Y/n!”

“How dare you!”

“Motherfucking, Y/n!” 

“That’s enough!” You bark and twist back towards the garden shed. Your pupil left the door wide open and all its shining tools caught your eye across the yard. Sanemi was staring when you stepped outside. His eyes feel like beads of sweat on the few bare parts of you. His gaze is all teeth on the back of your neck.

With all but one storm door up, not a single guest can hear the ruckus you two kick up outside in the prologue of the storm. “It’s about to pour!”

“Then go join the other guests!” You shout through a particularly violent breeze and you have to grip to the break in your kimono closed. He does not. By the time you lay a winded hand on the wall of the shed, it has started to rain.

A silencing wall of water falls from the back of the property straight towards you. It kills dust clouds in its path and paints every surface soaked in a perfectly straight line. Sanemi rushes from behind and nearly lifts you off your feet to get inside the shed as you watch the supernatural army advance on your home.

“Shit,” he grumbles and winces when the rain overcomes the little shed and splashes off the pavement into his face. He pulls you deeper inside and you jolt. The first crack of thunder is a scream that shakes the ground, “Scared of thunder now?”

“Scared of my profit margins, you oaf.”

Under his shoulder you are glaring at the storm between this shitty stuffy shed and your business. You are so small and wrapped so tightly in layer after layer of fabric. It must be hot. The damp drips down his open chest and thighs, it frizzes his hair at his ears. You must be sweating somewhere in that formal getup. Wet glistens at the curled little hairs on the back of your neck where the skin is just barely visible and it sparkles under your high collar.

“I can’t walk back inside soaked,” you groan, “there’s not enough time to change before final rounds.”

Sanemi takes his hand off his sword. There must be damp parts of you hiding from him. He brushes his knuckle up the bare skin of your neck, across your throat, and you falter slightly.

“Sanemi–”

“Nuh uh, don’t address me so familiarly,” he smirks and cups your cheek in his big hand when you jerk around.

“That’s not–!”

“Not what?” He smiles now, and drops his hand back to his sword so that you might find your own weapon and finish the fight. Four years of this.

You shove a finger into his chest, “You’re such a clingy fuck Shinazugawa,” and shout a little because you know the thunder will hide it. A sudden gust blows the sheet of rain sideways and straight inside the open door of the garden shed, up your dress and down his robes and through your prettily pinned hair. “Y/n this, y/n that, I’m busy Sanemi, I’m stuck in a shed! You’re the only one who calls me and people think we’re fucking! You want my attention you have it so please tell me all about the demons that’re gonna slurp up my customers and fuck my taxes to shit and–”

The door creaks in Sanemi’s hands even through the oceanic sounds of storm when he begins to close it. He nods as you get louder, nods as he slides the door closed and flicks the latch.

“Do not,” you growl, “there’s five thousand–”

“Five thousand little bitches in there lost without direction? They’re fine, Y/n.”

“Don’t call me that here.”

“They’ll survive, little lady.”

You spit, “not better.” And the new humidity of the closed shed begins to swallow you whole. It fills your throat. “What about all the demons you’ve been crying about?”

“You’re such a cocky cuss.”

“And you’re needy,” you taunt. It’s Sanemi’s turn to wince and his frustration starts to drip from all those places he shoves it away from you. He's been gentle with you since that summer. He lets you interrupt him, he follows where you go. “I watched you check perimeters this morning, you don’t need to talk to me about demons.”

“Eyes everywhere huh?” His throat is pink, “Lady of the house.”

You grin and pull him by the loops of his robe into your tiny purple kiss, “Shut up.”

“M’lady,” he growls against your lips and succumbs.

Four years of stolen touches, lips on damp summer skin, coming out of empty rooms too ruffled and pulling the hashira between your legs without disturbing the folds of your work kimono. “Don’t call me that either,” your breath hisses against his throat like an iron and he drops his sword quickly to gather you in his arms.

Too much fabric. Shovels and shears clatter against the floor and one another when the thunder shakes their little house again, and they tremble at every thump and roll of your body against Sanemi’s. He pulls your hips against his and guides your legs around his waist so he can sink into those soft parts of you. So he can tilt his head back to look up at you, so you can pour your kisses down his throat like wine.

You drag your nails up the back of his head when he offers his tongue to your lips, biting, suckling, drawing out gentle sounds and eating them before they compete with the rain outside. Where his hips dig into your own the folds of your skirt fall apart. Legs that glisten with sweat and rain part nicely for him and his own robes grow clingy with exertion where he grinds hard against you. Every subtle roll breaks your concentration in kisses, in lips sliding, begging with salvia and rainwater. His hands cup your cheeks, thighs, the collar of your kimono shudders open for him when he dips to suck bruises under your jaw and the swordsman’s hand loses control as he grips your belt to free you from all this formality. He’ll press crescents into your breasts, he’ll lower his tongue through your peach sweet folds and drink until you cry– but you pull his head back with a sharp yank of your wrist.

Your breath comes in clouds. The inn glows with candlelight across the yard but the light through the shed’s window is too weak. Welts of lighting illuminate the flush of your chest and cheeks. Two seconds of bright and twelve of dark warmth, shaking swirling thunder and then only rain. Sweat rolls from your temples and into the depths of your kimono. It’s been days since he’s had you like this and longer since you’ve had true privacy, others a whole yard away.

You can’t be gone long, he knows. Staff watched you race in here together, watched him shut the door, he knows he knows, he just can’t put you down yet. He leans in for another kiss and you let him fall close enough for his chest to crush yours before pulling back on his hair again.

“Y/n,” he’s suddenly not above begging but you hold his gaze tight. You watch him as your hand slips between the place your bodies meet. Pretty fingers reach for the heat between his legs. Pretty knuckles ghost over the swell of his robes and draw the fabric aside instead of ordering he bring you back inside. Sanemi’s cock perks up in free air as high as this position will let it and rests heavy under the swell of your ass.

He kisses you again, toothy and smiling and when you kiss him back your sharpest teeth clink together. He ruts into your desperation against the wall, harder than the rain, harder than the wind that threatens to blow your shed away and you with it. Obviously he wouldn’t let it but the thought that nature might be jealous of the rumple you made of each other drives him harder against you. Slipping, cock hard and suddenly shifted up against the hair under your belly. Peach fuzz yields to warm slick and Sanemi drops his head to your chest when he shudders to avoid whimpering into your mouth. He slips through your folds with a tight hold still under your thighs and drags himself up, down, up, hypnotized always by the faces you make when you’re trying to keep quiet.

The scars across his body are forever numb, but when your clammy hands paw is his chest he swears he can smell color. He can touch light when you pull his face back to yours frantically, when your hips with all their fabric flowing off of them buck sloppily against his, when he thrusts once deeply inside of you and forces a broken gasp from the back of your throat.

Before you can catch your breath your lips have crashed against his and his hips against yours. Sanemi keeps the relentless, restless, starving pace you like and knows he’ll last only the next few minutes before the worst of the storm blows over. Again and again he carves a palace for himself inside of you. You guide him with the falter of your kisses when he finds that perfect spot and with the slick that coats both of your thighs. Your voice escapes you in choked whimpers, his name comes out in hiccups. You’re a little bell in his arms folded in half and singing for him.

Again and again, out and so deep back inside, Sanemi’s feet grip the floor as he plunges his hips into yours and both of your bodies into the swelling wood walls. His rhythm staggers as you flutter around him and with his head against your shoulder he watches the circles you draw on your clit with the tips of four clumsy fingers as your other hand muffles your voice. He grabs that quieting wrist without thinking and without taking his eyes off the place your bodies connect with lewd squelches and sticky white threads. His threatening grip, his thick cock and your fingers push you right over the lip of your pleasure and fluttering becomes milking spasms quicker than Sanemi can think to treat you gently. That half-sobbing voice he loves so much cheers him towards his own climax and the more sensitive you grow the easier it is to coax those sounds out of you that you try to keep hidden, “Don’t– don’t be so quiet.”

“Inside,” you whisper in reply and draw his face into your hands as his pounding stutters in pace and loses all flow completely under your dreamy gazes. Sanemi can’t keep his eyes open when he cums. His pretty lilly lashes flutter with lost concentration. He shudders, ruts you deeper into the wall and groans with release as he fills those swollen wet parts of you. Warmth pools in your belly and trickles off his cock still buried. Sweat falls like the rain outside.

“Wanna taste,” Sanemi rumbles without setting you down or stilling his thrusts fully. He nuzzles somehow farther into the dip of your collarbones. Soft snow white hair, a heartbeat in the fingers that grip you. Every twitch of his hips is a starving ache.

“C'mon,” you grin, “dinner’ll get cold.”

“Let me taste you.”

“Sanemi, what will I eat if you eat me?”

“Have a few ideas,” he smiles back through the trembling of the shed in encores of thunder and gale. A leak tip tap tip taps nearby. Four years of this, maybe more.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Corn Cob (The Surprise, Part 14)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: explicit language, discussion of AFAB body parts, pregnancy times, blood, medical/miscarriage scare, invasive medical exams (hello, again, Pap smear), vague references to past abuse, happy ending Word count: 2.4k

Summary: When you find blood in your underwear, you panic. Emily races to you, both working against time to make sure the baby is okay.

Week 24: The Corn Cob

You’d thought it was going to be a normal day, a good day even. It was Friday. Emily wasn’t in the field. She’d even promised to be home on time. You’d just returned from the grocery store with ingredients to cook dinner, when you had to run to the bathroom. You were always running to the bathroom these days. Little corn cob didn’t leave a whole lot of room for your bladder.

But when you pulled down your pants, a flash of red made your stomach drop. You sat down heavily on the toilet, head reeling. You felt like you might be sick. You’d had cramps today, but that wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t supposed to be unusual. But the blood? This was way too much blood to be spotting. You looked down at your stomach, placing your hands on either side, and hoping, praying, with everything you had in you, that the little one was okay. But you hadn’t felt her kick all day. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Your breath was caught in your throat, and you couldn’t seem to pull it in. You pressed your hands to your face and noticed that you were crying, that your hands were shaking. You didn’t think you’d ever been so scared, so helpless.

You pulled out your phone, letting out a sob as your home screen came to life–one of the sonogram photos of the baby’s blurry little face. It was dialing, and suddenly you were even more scared to tell Emily. What if you had lost the baby? You didn’t think you’d ever forgive yourself if you lost her. How would Emily?

“Hi, honey!” Her voice was so bright, so happy. You felt paralyzed with fear.

You sucked in a shaky breath, and Emily’s tone changed immediately.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“Emily, I’m bleeding!” you gasped, tears streaming down your face as you wrapped your arms around your baby bump.

“What!?”

You could hear her voice shift, could hear movement, and you knew she was coming. You felt the wave of panic subside just a little. Not much, but a little. Emily was coming. She was on her way. You needed her, and she was coming.

“What do you mean bleeding?!” she asked, frantic. “Bleeding where!?”

“Out my vagina!” you cried, sucking in big gulps of air that didn’t seem to ever get to your lungs. You felt lightheaded.

“Okay,” she said, and you could tell she was trying her best to stay calm, even as her voice shook, even as you knew she had to be panicking herself. “Okay. Honey? I need you to hang up and call Dr. Delgado.”

“I’m scared, Em…” Your voice was high and desperate, and tears dripped from your face.

Her voice changed again, and you heard the ambient noise of traffic. She would be here soon. She was coming. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. Alright? I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can. But I need you to call Dr. Delgado. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you.

“Okay. That’s good, honey. You’re doing great. Now you hang up and you call her. And then you can call me back right after, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you,” Emily added. And it was only then that you could really hear the fear in her voice, the absolute terror.

“I love you, too,” you told her, trying to stop a fresh wave of tears.

All the panic Emily’s voice had kept at bay came flooding back in after she hung up, and your fingers were shaky as you scrolled through your contacts to find Dr. Delgado.

The conversation was quick, no-nonsense. Just questions and answers. But as soon as Dr. Delgado determined that the bleeding wasn’t light, she got serious.

“Y/N, you need to go to the emergency room as soon as possible,” she told you.

“Is this…” You gulped. “Am I miscarrying?” You were afraid to ask, afraid to hear the answer.

“It’s rare in the second trimester, but I can’t say for sure. It’s imperative for you to get to the hospital as soon as you can.”

“Okay. I will.” You were suddenly even more scared than you’d been before.

“Give me a call once you’ve been seen,” she told you.

“Thanks, Dr. Delgado.”

Trying to pull yourself together, you got up, running to your closet for a new pair of underwear, adhering so many pads to it that you might as well have been wearing a diaper. You rang Emily on speakerphone, and she picked up immediately.

“What’d she say?!”

“I need to go to the hospital,” you told her, stumbling as you pulled on a pair of maternity leggings.

Emily exhaled shakily. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Meet me in the parking lot. Are you okay? Can you make it down there?”

“Mmhm.” You sniffed. “How’d you get here so fast?!”

“I took a Bureau SUV. Morgan’s driving. We’ve got the lights and sirens going.”

“Please hurry,” you said, quiet and scared, locking the door behind you and sprinting to the elevator.

“I’m coming, baby. Just a little bit longer. It’s gonna be okay.”

Emily quite literally leapt out of the passenger side of the SUV as it screeched into the parking lot. Her eyes were wide and alarmed as she ran to you, nearly tackling you in a hug. You were so relieved to see her you thought your knees might buckle under you. Seeing her triggered a fresh wave of tears, and she cupped your face, wiping them away.

“It’s alright, honey. I’m here.” She led you to the back of the SUV, never letting go of your arm, never removing her hand from your back where she held you steady. Then, slamming the door, she sprinted to the other side, jumping in the backseat with you.

“Drive,” she told Morgan.

“Jesus Christ, Derek!” you exclaimed, as you peeled out of the parking lot and onto the road, swerving and moving at speeds that would be illegal in any other situation.

“Sorry, mama,” he called back. “Gotta get you to the hospital.”

“Just close your eyes, honey,” Emily said, kissing the side of your head, and pulling you protectively into her.

Emily scanned you up and down, one of her hands resting on your baby bump. You were trying very hard to keep from crying.

“Are you in pain?” she asked quietly.

You shook your head, blinking back tears. “Cramps, but I didn’t think anything of it. I should’ve known something was wrong. I just– I thought she was sleepy today. I haven’t felt her move. God, I’m so stupid! What if she’s–” You sucked in a shaky breath.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Emily said, placing her hands on either side of your face. “You’re spiraling. We don’t know that anything’s wrong. Let’s not worry until we have to.”

But she was worried, too. You could tell. Your eyes were swimming. “I’m so scared, Em,” you squeaked.

“Me too,” she sighed, pressing her forehead to yours.

At the ER, you thought Emily might actually assault a health professional to get you seen faster. Your anxiety came out in tears. Emily’s anxiety came out in her being absolutely, terrifyingly authoritative. You kept tugging on her sleeve, hissing, “Em, don’t be mean! They’re just doing their jobs!”

But you had to hand it to her. She got shit done. You were in an OBGYN exam room with a doctor–”A doctor, not a nurse!” Emily insisted–within fifteen minutes of your arrival. Which, in your experience, was nearly unheard of.

The doctor sat and rolled over to the exam table. You sat, holding Emily’s hand tightly, already in the hospital gown one of the nurses had given. “Thank you so much,” you’d said, trying to make up for Emily’s brashness. He held a clipboard, reading the scribbled intake notes the nurse had taken.

“Alright, Ms… Y/L/N?”

You nodded.

“I’m Dr. Booker. I see you’ve had some vaginal bleeding today. Would you classify it as a lot or a little?”

“A lot,” you replied, voice shaky.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Any pain, nausea, fever?”

“Umm, just some cramps. Nothing really bad.”

He scribbled a bit more.

“Okay.” He set the clipboard down and slapped his hands on his thighs, rolling even closer to you. “Mind if I take a look?”

You gulped and nodded, tears threatening at your eyes again, as you watched him roll to the nearby cabinets and pull out a speculum. Emily squeezed your hand, watching you sympathetically. She knew that you did, in fact, mind if he took a look. This was your worst nightmare as far as doctor visits went. Not only did someone have to touch you, look at you, shove something inside of you, but it was a man. And you hadn’t had any time at all to emotionally prepare.

You trembled. Emily pressed her lips to your ear as the doctor pulled on gloves. “Do you want me to ask for a woman?” She was so quiet you could barely hear her.

You shook your head, staring hard at the ceiling. “I just want to know what’s wrong,” you whispered. “As fast as possible.”

She kissed your forehead, smoothing your hair as you lay back. You breathed deeply, trying to prepare yourself for the cold metal, the pressure, the feeling of being violated that somehow never went away, no matter how many times you had to do this stupid examination. But this time, it was for your baby. And you would do anything, anything at all, to protect your child.

So you braced yourself against the speculum, sucking in a shaky breath as the doctor forced it inside of you, seemingly oblivious to the ordeal he was facilitating. Emily held your hand tight in one of hers, the other gently rubbing the side of your face, catching any tears that fell.

She hated this. She hated this for you. But she loved you so deeply, so desperately for being so brave. She’d always known that you were the one for her, had known from the very beginning, but she knew even more now, in this moment, that she couldn’t have found a better person to have a child with. You were mothering, she realized. Right now, on this exam table, choking back tears, trying hard not to write away from the doctor’s hands inside of you. You were being the baby’s mom. And she loved you so much for it.

“Ah!” the doctor exclaimed, rolling away for a moment and leaving the speculum inside you. You felt your heart drop. You couldn’t breathe as you waited for him to roll back, to finish his thought. Emily’s leg bounced so fast and so hard that the sound seemed to take over the whole room.

The doctor rolled back with a petri dish, and you flinched as he reached back inside you. You felt a pinch and gasped, then grimaced as the doctor placed a small stalk of tissue into the petri dish and shut the lid.

“Cervical polyp,” he said. “Nothing to worry about. The little buggers just bleed a lot.”

“Oh, thank god.” Emily let out a shaky sigh, bending forward and pressing her hand over her mouth.

“So the baby’s okay?” you asked, terrified to hear the answer.

“Healthy as a horse,” he nodded. “I can do an ultrasound if it’ll make you feel better.”

You both nodded vigorously.

“What about Y/N?” Emily pressed. “Is she okay? What is a… cervical polyp?”

He waved her off. “She’s completely fine. Cervical polyps are just irregular growths. Very common. Almost always benign.”

“Almost!?” Emily exclaimed, sitting up rail straight, eyebrows furrowed.

“We’ll send it off for testing just to be sure, but 99% of them are benign.”

Your body shook with relief, but you couldn’t quite let the anxiety go. Not until you’d seen the baby.

Emily bit her nails as the doctor squirted the gel on your belly, rubbing the wand over your baby bump.

You let out a relieved sob as the baby’s head came into view, and Emily planted kiss after kiss on your cheek. The sound of the heartbeat filled the room, and you and Emily pressed your heads together, both weepy, both more relieved than perhaps you’d ever been.

“All’s well, ladies,” he said, removing his gloves and handing you a paper towel to wipe off the gel. “It’s been a pleasure. A nurse will bring your discharge papers by. You might experience some cramping, and the bleeding won’t stop right away. But it should slow and stop within the next 24 hours.”

“Thank you so much,” Emily said, rising to shake his hand. She was all charm now that you and the baby were okay.

But, even still, she did not let her hands leave you even once as you walked into the waiting room, Derek wrapping his wide arms around both of you.

“I’m not gonna lie, mama, you had me worried,” he said, squeezing your hand. He left to get the car, and you and Emily made your way outside to wait for him.

“Jesus Christ,” Emily mumbled shakily, her arm around your waist to steady you. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.”

You frowned at her. “You’ve literally been held hostage. You had to fake your own death.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, pulling you into her chest and resting her chin on your head. “And the thought of losing you or the little guy is way worse than either of those things.”

Emily held your face between her hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead before melding her lips with yours. You sighed into her, the anxiety and panic of the day rolling off of you.

You jumped at the sound of a car horn. Derek smirked, rolling down the window. “I swear, you two can’t go two minutes without being all over each other.”

You blushed, and Emily flipped him off, but you were both loose and happy with relief. You let Emily wrap you in her arms in the backseat, knowing that she’d need that for a while–to hold you close, protectively, to reassure herself that you were safe.

You knew you’d get home and lay down and she’d get you your heating pad, and then she’d pull your head into her chest, lace her legs with yours. And you’d feel like nothing bad in the world could touch you, not in Emily’s arms.

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

i remember u posting a story on your old blog about harry fingering yn in the mirror and i am going to NEED you to recreate that. i will get on my knees and beg if i need to xx

Ask and you shall receive😋

~

Yn has no clue how she and Harry ended up in this position, sat in front of a mirror with her completely naked, Harry sat behind her with warm hands rubbing up and down her thighs. She’s been feeling a little self conscious lately about her body, especially her vagina, and Harry will put a stop to that right now. He rubs at her thighs until they start to relax, a small smile forming on his face as they do.

“That’s it, let Daddy see that pretty pussy,” he coaxes, hands warm on her thighs. A soft moan leaves her lips at his filthy words, butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she complies. Both eyes are locked on the spot between her legs as she spreads them, Harry groaning quietly as he takes in the beautiful sight. He can see all of her, the wetness that’s started to drip down from between her lips, the hairs that cover her pubic bone as well as part of her lips.

He can’t help but reach down there and spread them apart with his fingers, watching intently as her dripping hole clenches around nothing. “Fuck, just look at you. S’fucking gorgeous I can’t even think,” he whispers, just running a ringed finger between her folds gently, just in his own little world.

She gets impatient rather quickly, bucking her hips to meet his hand and snapping him out of his daze. “Daddy, please,” she begs, meeting his eyes in the mirror. He wastes no more time before sinking that same finger into her, pressing in until she can feel the cool sensation of his ring against her heated lips.

The moan she lets out is full of relief when he curls that finger and hooks onto her g-spot with purpose, pulling it out just to push back in and do it again. He keeps that up until she’s used to the feeling, adding another before he decides to speed up. The pace has her grasping at his wrist with a gasp of shock that breaks off into a moan, her legs attempting to close around his wrist. Her hips pull away a bit as the pleasure grows into something foreign, scaring her a bit.

He’s not having that at all, landing a harsh slap onto her thigh before pulling it back and killing it there. “Don’t you dare try and run. You’re going to take it unless you use your safeword, and I don’t hear that so I’m not stopping,” he rasps into her ear, the dominant undertone to his voice only pushing her closer as her moans get louder and her squirms get more frequent.

“Open your fucking eyes or I’ll stop right now. Look at how fucking beautiful you are taking my fingers like this,” he demands, the words getting softer as they bleed into more comforting ones. “Such a good girl, don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he finishes, and the stark contrast between his words and his actions have her locking down on his fingers with no warning, a strong orgasm tearing through her, a broken moan leaving her lips.

He praises her the entire time, his fingers slowing before coming to a halt as she begins to float back to earth. He’s murmuring praises about how she did so well for him into her ear, her head falling back against his shoulder as her chest heaves from the intensity.

When she notices that his fingers are still inside of her she slowly opens her eyes to try and meet his in the mirror, and the dark look on his face tells her everything she needs to know. He knows her limits and he plans on toeing the line of each one of them today. Before she can even begin to protest, he’s moving those same two fingers again, the sensitivity making her mouth fall open in yet another broken moan.

“No, baby. Not done yet,” he coos, kissing the side of her head all the way down to her shoulders as her moans turn into loud sobs of pleasure, taking everything he has to offer. “Such a good girl, letting me do as I please. We’ll be done soon and then I’ll really take care of you. Y’wont even remember all those nasty thoughts anymore,” he promises.

It takes no more than two more minutes of him praising her and keeping up that pace for her to be on the edge again, and when he lets go of her thigh and starts to rub tight circles onto her clit, she’s gone rigid and her eyes have rolled back into her head as her orgasm starts to wrack through her body.

She’s silent for a moment, her breathing stopped as he doesn’t let up for even a second, and then her body relaxes and a loud squeal falls from her lips as she begins to squirt all over them and the mirror. He’s rasping out praises mixed in with filth into her ear as she lets go like never before, and by the time she’s finished her body is limp and she’s on the brink of being unconscious.

He pulls his soaked fingers out of her and licks them clean, Yn’s mind just barely registering the lewd action. She whines softly when he moves from behind her, lying her down on the cool floor before crawling around to place himself in front of her. She’s still trying to catch her breath when she feels him spread her thighs once more, and then she hears him speaking, her eyes widening a fraction at his words.

“You lie right there baby, just gonna clean you up a bit,” he whispers, settling between her thighs before taking her clit between his lips.

~

[wonik1ss]

Mr.Package Man — Jungwon

pairing : non idol! jungwon x reader

song rec : love story - katherine mcphee

summary : someone’s been stealing your packages and your finally going to find out why

It was a nice lovely Monday evening before your alarm went off. When it did, you turned off the alarms three times before you woke up, checked the time and realized you were late to your first college class.

So as you scrambled out of bed trying to get ready you failed to noticed the knocks at your door before you opened it. There stood a spoke looking cat boy staring right at you.

“I think this is-“

“Sorry I got to go!”. You yelled as you dashed to your car. That wasn’t the last time you would see the boy though.

You had just came back from a Halloween costume party dressed up as a princess. You were a little drunk so you stumbled to your door. Failing to notice the cat boy just about to knock it. You bumped into him and he catches your fall.

“Cat?”

“Huh?”

“You’re such a cute cat!”. The cat boy started to blush as you touched his cheeks.

“Y/n! Stop touching him!”. Yunjin your bestfriend dressed up a cop (you’d find at a club) pried you of the boy. She then said sorry as she struggled to open your door and drag you inside.

The next time you saw the boy you had just Brocken up with your boyfriend. You had been waiting for your weighted blanket to come into the mail. So when you opened your door to see the cat boy standing there you slammed the door shut.

While the boy looked like he was ready to go to a lecture you had your eyelash running your hair messed up and a big ‘I love newyork’ shirt on with only panties underneath.

“I.. I think this is yours..”. You sighed as you slowly opened your door only letting the boy see your face.

“It is.. why do you have it?”

“Um.. the delivery person left it by my door..”. The boy handed you the box and you thanked hit and shut the door again. Then as you slowly slides down the door you opened your package smiling slightly.

Next time you opened the door to see the boy you were on your period. But it was different this time. This time it wasn’t just kicking your ass.. it was also running you over like road kill.

So when you opened the door to see the boy sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Again!”. The boy nodded.

“Are you-“

“I’m not ok! I have finals tomorrow! I’m late on rent and I’m bleeding out of my vagina and I feel like a vampires draining my fucking blood!”. The boy stood stunned as you grabbed your package and slammed your door on him. A few weeks later you called your delivery company and gave them an earful.

Just to find out your little cat neighbor was doing this all by himself. So now here you were not drunk, no broken heart and no period making you want to die. Staring at this cat like boy.

“What’s your name”. The boy looked confused. The last three times he tried to talk to you he never had the question asked.

“Jungwon..”

“Jungwon.. why do you always seem to have my packages..”

“Is the com-“

“I called them.. and they sent me a video of you taking my packages and then knocking on my door”. The boy sighed as he gave you your package.

“I’m sorry.. I.. I just didn’t know any other way to talk to you.. your never really around the building and when you are your busy..”

“Why did you want to talk to me”. You threw your package on your bed and got closer to Jungwon. Who stared at you before he opened his mouth again.

“I like you.. but I’m very shy so my friend.. Ni-ki suggested I just take your packages to talk to you”

“Your friends stupid”

“I know.. but I was desperate.. I see this really pretty girl around the apartment complex feeding the stray cats, actually eating Mrs. Lee’s stale cookies and bickering with Mr. Johnson about his loud ass tv and I I fall in.. like with her?”. You laughed as the boys statement turned into a question.

“So ya I’m sorry”. As the boy turned around he froze when he heard you talk again.

“I’m free tomorrow.. if you wanna watch a movie with me at my apartment… I’d say yes..”

“Spider-Man 2?”. You bit your lip as you nodded. The boy smiled as he walked to his apartment and you did too as your closed your’s.

[caughtonwebcam]

my trans! kyle au

this is still a wip but here’s a snippet of a fanfic I’m writing :)

cw: mentions/descriptions of menstruation/blood, gender dysphoria

————

“It’s perfectly normal, bubbie. You’re just getting older. Your body is maturing into an adult.”

Kyle fidgeted with his hands, sinking lower into his bed in shame.

“But I’m not an adult! I’m only thirteen!” he exclaimed to his mother, still refusing to make eye contact. “Why is this happening?” 

The red-haired woman raised an eyebrow. “They didn’t teach you in school?”

Kyle shook his head, confused as ever. The education system when it came to sex ed was never the best. He had recalled learning about periods, but it was never properly explained how it worked and his own biology. It was all about STDs and abstinence. 

“Well,” started Sheila, “once a month, your body releases an egg to be fertilized by a man and make a baby. If it’s not fertilized, the blood build up for the baby is disposed of through the vagina.”

Kyle shuddered, recoiling in disgust. “Ugh! Don’t say that word!”

His mother rolled her eyes. “Be mature, Kyle. Anyways, it’s what’s called a menstrual cycle. Does that make sense?”

Kyle wrinkled his nose. Gross. What if he didn’t want to give birth to a kid? And for a week each month? What was the point?  He shrugged.

Sheila sighed, rubbing the Kyle’s back in comfort. The scrawny boy still trembled a little, still taken aback by what was happening to him. “You see, Kyle,” Sheila began steadily, “it’s something every… every…” She trailed off, searching for better wording.

Kyle perked his head up, eyes widening with concern. “Every what?”

“— Every female born person experiences. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”  There it was again. A reminder. Of the stupid body that was given to him by God. The curse of femininity that he couldn’t erase no matter how hard he tried. He could cut his hair, layer sports bras under his orange jacket, deepen his voice and yet, while it did help ease his dysphoria significantly, he’d still bleed. Both his uterus and heart. If anything, that was scarier than the first sight of blood in the school bathroom earlier that day. 

Kyle groaned, burying his sunspot dappled face in his arms, another pang of  nausea twisting in his abdomen. 

Ugh, shit. How long is this gonna last?

“I think I’m just gonna… lay down for a bit,” the boy grumbled as he pulled the plush comforter over his head. Sheila nodded, ruffling Kyle’s red curls sympathetically. 

“Sure,” she replied, “I’m going to go make you some hot tea. It’ll help soothe the cramps.”

Kyle smiled weakly, “thanks mom.”

When she shut the door behind her, the ginger boy’s grin fell, being replaced by a sour grimace as the twisting in his gut made him want to vomit, his head feeling lighter. He rolled onto his back, cringing as the small movement made more warm blood flow out of him. 

Kyle clutched his stomach and squeezed his thighs together as tears pricked his eyes. 

Holy fuck. This was the worst.

~~~

Stan pursed his lips as he rang the doorbell. Something must have been really wrong if Kyle left school early. Was he hurt? The question plagued his mind until suddenly, Sheila opened the door. She looked down and smiled, being met with the boy, who carried a large gift basket filled to brim with boxes of sanitary products, among other things. “Can I help you?”

”Um, hi, Ms. Broflovski. Is Kyle home?”

Sheila glanced back for a moment, before returning her gaze to Stan. “Yes,” she replied, “he’s upstairs resting right now, though.” 

Stan’s eyes brightened. Good, so he was okay. “Can I see him?”

Sheila bit her bottom lip. “I wouldn’t right now if I were you.”

”Please?” Stan pleaded, “can you at least just give this to him and say it’s from me?” He held up the basket.

Sheila exhaled. “Okay, fine. But I’m not sure if he’s in the mood for visitors.”

[goodnightmemes]

GONE GIRL (2014) SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ What have we done to each other? ❜

❛ I'm the guy to save you from all this awesomeness. ❜

❛ I think it's your chin. Yeah, it's quite villainous. ❜

❛ I have to kiss you now. ❜

❛ Life. I don't remember the point. ❜

❛ Go home, fuck her brains out, slap her with your penis. "There's some wood for you, bitch." ❜

❛ Now, I don't panic easily...but it's weird, right? ❜

❛ Should I be concerned? ❜

❛ I love your parents...but they really can be assholes. ❜

❛ I love having strangers pick at my scabs. ❜

❛ You have a world-class vagina. ❜

❛ We are gonna take this very, very seriously. ❜

❛ I feel like I'm on a Law & Order episode. ❜

❛ Should I know my wife's blood type? ❜

❛ Marriage is hard work, and compromise, and more work. ❜

❛ You naughty minx. ❜

❛ We're so cute. I wanna punch us in the face. ❜

❛ Everyone knows "complicated" is code for "bitch." ❜

❛ It seems like the kind of thing that would happen to [name]. ❜

❛ Just because I don't like to be around [name] doesn't mean I don't care about her. ❜

❛ Anyway, whoever took her is bound to bring her back. ❜

❛ Well, we have our first clue. ❜

❛ You've been up all night. You wanna look like you've been up all night. ❜

❛ Hey, be careful today, okay? ❜

❛ I'll balance on the exact fucking edge of your emotional razor. ❜

❛ I knew you never should have moved back here. ❜

❛ We are all worried. We are all scared. ❜

❛ We had to file a restraining order. ❜

❛ I'm hoping you can tell me what this means. ❜

❛ Hello, stranger. Fancy meeting you here. ❜

❛ Are you following me? ❜

❛ Promise me we'll never be like them. ❜

❛ If it happens, we'll deal with it. ❜

❛ We have each other. Everything else is background noise. ❜

❛ You don't trust me. You don't trust my judgment. ❜

❛ I don't get why you're daring me to be someone I don't wanna be. ❜

❛ You look like hammered shit. ❜

❛ You really don't like him, do you? ❜

❛ Could you please not share that with anyone? ❜

❛ It's like you're the goddamn Homecoming King. ❜

❛ It looked like you were having fun. ❜

❛ I am in a nightmare! ❜

❛ My God, this place literally smells like feces. ❜

❛ Hey...have you told me everything? ❜

❛ All I want is to come over here, have a beer with you, and not be judged. Can we do that? ❜

❛ I'm gonna go Benadryl myself to sleep. ❜

❛ I feel like I could disappear. ❜

❛ I called you a hundred times. You gotta pick up your phone! ❜

❛ I needed to see you. I know this is a bad idea. ❜

❛ Can you at least tell me you love me? ❜

❛ Did you, by any chance, tell anybody anything about us? ❜

❛ Did you leave a pair of red panties in my office? ❜

❛ Never say that out loud again. ❜

❛ It's our last time together. Let's make the most of it. ❜

❛ Last night, I went from desperate to pathetic. I became someone I don't even like. ❜

❛ We could have had this fight four hours ago. I'm late. ❜

❛ You're a fucking coward. ❜

❛ For Valentine's Day, I thought I'd buy a gun. ❜

❛ I'm being paranoid. Crazy. It's just... I'd sleep better with a gun. ❜

❛ You fucking idiot. You fucking asshole! You fucking lied to my fucking face! ❜

❛ If anybody finds out, you're totally fucked. ❜

❛ I was scared for you before, and now, I'm fucking petrified. ❜

❛ But the truth is, you'd have to be a sociopath to behave normally in this situation because it's the most abnormal situation in the world. ❜

❛ I'm so sick of being picked apart by women. ❜

❛ I have nothing to hide. ❜

❛ You have to fucking talk to me! ❜

❛ Why have you kept this stuff? It's like a little box of hate. ❜

❛ I love you no matter what. But you need to tell me. ❜

❛ Are you asking me if I killed my wife? ❜

❛ Because sometimes the way he looks at me I think...He may truly kill me. ❜

❛ I am so much happier now that I'm dead. ❜

❛ Let the punishment fit the crime. ❜

❛ You need to bleed. A lot. A lot, a lot. ❜

❛ But, then, we never really existed. ❜

❛ He loved a girl I was pretending to be. ❜

❛ "Cool Girl. " Men always use that as their defining compliment. ❜

❛ I was fucking game. ❜

❛ What's the point of being together if you're not the happiest? ❜

❛ You think I'd let him destroy me and end up happier than ever? No fucking way. ❜

❛ I need 20 seconds where you don't judge me, interrupt me or get angry. ❜

❛ You married a complete psychopath. ❜

❛ Part of me was relieved when I thought she was gone. ❜

❛ As long as you don't own a python and blast death metal at 4 AM, we're gonna be best friends. ❜

❛ Least you could do is not keep his secrets for him. ❜

❛ I believe you. It's just the craziest thing I've ever heard. ❜

❛ I always wondered why you kept in touch after...everything. ❜

❛ The whole thing just feels hinky. ❜

❛ Whatever they found, I think it's safe to assume that it's very bad. ❜

❛ Don't take it personally. ❜

❛ I thought we were steering clear of men for a while. ❜

❛ I'm not sad. I'm angry. ❜

❛ Why should I die? I'm not the asshole. ❜

❛ That sounds like a very bad idea. ❜

❛ This is a ticking time bomb. You've gotta throw yourself on it. ❜

❛ Where is the money, sweetheart? ❜

❛ You're hiding. I don't know why, and I don't really care. ❜

❛ There are a lot of people out there a lot worse than we are. ❜

❛ Every time you look smug or annoyed or tense, I'm gonna hit you with a gummy bear. ❜

❛ Knowing you were out there was the only thing that's kept me going these past few years. ❜

❛ Why are you so good to me? ❜

❛ Why is she dressed like a babysitter? ❜

❛ Come on, you're staring at ghosts. ❜

❛ Not that I don't appreciate Bait Shop Chic. ❜

❛ There are cameras everywhere. ❜

❛ You are more than safe, and I am not letting you get away again. ❜

❛ You're probably the most hated man in America right now. ❜

❛ Just because I am not a murderer doesn't make me a good guy. I'm not a good guy. ❜

❛ And if you come back, I promise I will spend every day making it up to you. ❜

❛ They disliked me, they liked me, they hated me. And now they love me. ❜

❛ I gave you the benefit of the doubt over and over. Every time you said something stupid, I thought, "Maybe he's just stupid." ❜

❛ I've forgotten how to behave. ❜

❛ Fire doesn't erase blood. ❜

❛ Come home. I dare you. ❜

❛ You fucking bitch. ❜

❛ She slit his throat with a box cutter. ❜

❛ All right, you can stop pretending now. ❜

❛ You do know I was just telling you what you wanted to hear, right? ❜

❛ You know me in your marrow. ❜

❛ Take off your clothes. I need to make sure you're not wearing a wire. ❜

❛ You killed someone. You're a murderer. ❜

❛ I'm a fighter. I fought my way back to you. ❜

❛ I'll make sure that no one forgets the pain you caused me. ❜

❛ When two people love each other and can't make that work...that's the real tragedy. ❜

❛ I swear, you two are the most fucked-up people I've ever known. ❜

❛ I would never, ever hurt you. ❜

❛ I don't care. I am leaving you. ❜

❛ I won't have to teach your child to hate you. He'll do that all by himself. ❜

❛ You fucking cunt! ❜

❛ The only time you liked yourself was when you were trying to be someone this cunt might like. ❜

❛ I've killed for you. Who else can say that? ❜

❛ Yes, I loved you. And then all we did was resent each other, and try to control each other. And cause each other pain. ❜

❛ You're breaking my heart. ❜

❛ You're my voice of reason. I need you with me on this. ❜

❛ Of course I'm with you. I was with you before we were even born. ❜

❛ We've been through the darkness. We've come out, united. ❜

[alexandraisyes]

babies? 👀

Babies 😭

I’m on my period off birth control for the first time in like 5-6 years, which is a crazy long time be on birth control but my hormones were literally poisoning and killing me, so womp womp

But now that I “have my hormones back” so to speak (bleeding out of my vagina) the baby fever is rampant

And since I’m sex-repulsed and most likely infertile, not to mention the thought of being pregnant or giving birth disgusts me (it’s chill if it’s for other people but I want nothing to do with that process with my own body), this has been projected onto my blorbos

So right now in my brain they’re all pregnant

I don’t know how they ended up like that they just are

Every time I start rambling this week it ends up with babies being thrown in the mix somehow

The baby fever is insane

Anyways lunar would be a great mother send tweet

[gabriel-xander]

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

8: Am I Gregnant?

♪────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

Toriel is standing outside the bathroom door with concern, respecting your privacy enough that she isn’t going to barge in, but still nosey to stand right outside. You knew this day would come, you just… you just weren’t ready for it.

“[Y/n], my child. I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Toriel says loudly.

“I’m gonna be bleeding out of my vagina for the next seven days, Toriel. This is as bad as it gets for me!” You shout from the bathtub, “Monsters don’t get their periods, so the Underground can’t sell me any pads or tampons!”

“I-I’m not sure I know what that is-”

“Further proving my point!”

“-But I’m sure we can find something that can help you.”

So you may or may not have started your period. Whoopdie-fucking-doo. Just as you were afraid of, you have no idea how you should navigate these (red) waters. You don’t have any pads or tampons, and monsters don’t have a menstrual cycle so there aren’t any products you can use.

The only solution you can think of is Dr. Alphys.

‘Sounds crazy, but LET ME COOK!’

From what you’re understanding in these books Toriel has, monsters don’t necessarily get sick, so there is no need to have primary doctors the way humans do. There is also no need to learn about human biology (obviously), but as the Royal Scientists, Dr. Alphys (and Sans but you still don’t really want anything to do with him) is more capable than everyone else in the Underground of learning something as complex as basic human biology.

You’re sure if you disguise it as allowing yourself to become a focus of study, Dr. Alphys will be eager to take the opportunity to learn about how you tick. In return for being a test subject, you ask her to help you make tampons that are safe for your body.

You know at the very least tampons are made of a bunch of cotton and rayon, but you’re no fucking expert (yet) so you can’t be so sure.

The only problem is that this requires Dr. Alphys to learn about your identity. You’re not too sure if this is a problem you want right now. You can’t just spend the whole week in the bathtub as your blood gets washed away (TMI, who cares), but you’re not too sure if you’re comfortable with sticking cotton up in your vagina either.

Hm…

Actually, wait.

”Toriel!” You call out, “Do you have any cotton and thin string?”

”Huh? We have a lot of leftover yarn from the sewing kit, but I don’t think I have any cotton… Give me a moment to look.”

She doesn’t leave you waiting for long, but she doesn’t come back with the best of news.

”I’m afraid I only have a few cotton balls left. Is that enough?”

Shit, it won’t be at all. Also, cotton balls aren’t the most ideal materials. Hmm… another option could be utilizing diapers and somehow turning them into pads. Wait, why don’t you just do that? It’s not the most ideal, but when you don’t have many options, there isn’t much room to complain. Besides, you’re pretty sure they’re more absorbent than actual pads anyway.

”You wouldn’t happen to have baby diapers, would you?” You ask loud enough for her to hear.

”Ah… baby diapers? No, I’m afraid not. Would you like me to buy some?”

”YES! Please!” You nearly sob in relief, “Just… Ughh, I really don’t want you to buy what’s unnecessary since they’re so expensive-”

“-Expensive? Pfft—Perhaps on the surface, but diapers are quite affordable.” Toriel knocks on the door, “I will buy a few different sizes, and you will decide which size is best for you. Though, I’m unsure how you would even use them…”

You chuckle, ”I can give you the human TLDR when you get back. Please hurry, T. I don’t wanna stay in this tub much longer.”

”Yes, I will be back soon, my child!”

Great. What a wonderful way to spend your morning. It had attacked you so randomly, and you didn’t even get cramps the days before. You had stained your sheets and frantically explained to Toriel that, no, you’re not dying and your vagina is NOT broken. Since monsters don’t need toilets, you opted to bleed out in the bathtub with the water filled up to your waist.

Oh shit, you completely forgot you asked Napstablook to hang out today. Hopefully, he decides to take his sweet ass time today and doesn’t arrive soon.

────

Toriel stares at the ghost like a deer caught in headlights.

Here comes Napstablook!

”Oh, Napstablook,” Toriel blinks, “You’re here.”

”hi miss toriel… is [y/n] ready yet…? she told me she wanted to hang out again…” Napstablook shrinks back from Toriel’s stare, “um… is this a bad time…?”

The goat monster winces slightly, “It’s… certainly bad timing. Um…. Oh!”

The ghost flinches at her sudden loud noise.

”Why don’t you accompany me to the store first? [Y/n] needs some time before she can entertain guests right now.”

‘…uhhhhhh-‘

“oh… okay…” Napstablook waits for Toriel to lead the way before following after her, “is [y/n] feeling okay…?”

”Yes, yes… I-I think.”

‘YOU THINK?!’

“It’s a human thing, I believe. I’m ashamed to admit I’m not as knowledgeable about humans as I used to be.” Toriel tells him, “She asked for me to buy her… baby diapers.”

….HUHH?!?!? IS THE HUMAN 38 + 2 weeks… PREGANANANT?!

“uhhh… huh…” Napstablook isn’t sure what he should say…

The walk to the store was quick, awkward, and quiet. The ghost is too nervous to ask more if you are actually in labor, and the goat is too focused on her very serious mission of buying diapers for you.

Newborn monsters don’t need diapers for very long, hence why they’re not very expensive. When they’re too small to eat anything other than breast milk (don’t ask…), that type of liquid does pass through their body. However, after about a month or so, monster babies grow strong enough to eat regular monster-baby food.

Different monster types require different diaper sizes though, so Toriel buys one box of each size they come in. She and Napstablook were getting weird fucking looks though, people were getting the wrong idea about them shopping for diapers together. The poor ghost was blushing red as Toriel remained oblivious to how bad this might look for them. The ghost is also wondering why you need so many different types of diapers. You didn’t seem pregananant, but maybe humans experience that type of stuff differently?

Oh… Oh, God. You’re not… You’re not having, like… a thousand babies, are you?! Napstablook isn’t sure if he’s ready for that! He’s not ready to be a father! Yes, he knows you two are barely friends, but as the only man(?) in your life right now, surely that role falls onto him, right?!

“Alright, I think this should be enough.” Toriel nods, turning to look at the other, “Oh, dear. Are you alright, Napstablook?”

He is in tears: “i’m not ready to be a dad…!”

”…”

”…”

”…”

”…”

“…What?”

────

Safe to say that Napstablook greatly misunderstood the situation. After calmly explaining the situation more to the ghost…

HE’S NOT REASSURED AT ALL!!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE BLEEDING OUT OF YOUR HOO-HA?!?!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS IS NORMAL HUMAN BEHAVIOR, AND AS A MATTER OF FACT, THIS IS GOING TO HAPPEN FOR SEVEN DAYS EVERY MONTH?!?! HOW ARE YOU NOT SCREAMING BLOODY MURDER AND CRYING YOUR EYES OUT?!?!

Or perhaps you are screaming bloody murder, they just don’t know it because they’re not with you at the moment. That’s soon about to change, however.

They’ve made it back to Toriel’s home, with Napstablook using the power of friendship and magic to help carry the paper bags holding the diapers. The goat mom was gently explaining some rules.

”That is why we shall wait for [Y/n] to take care of her business first. Afterward, we can ask her some questions about what exactly she is struggling with.”

The ghost nods along, “yes, miss toriel…”

She giggles, “You were quite ready to become a father, hm? Now, why would you come to a conclusion like that?”

Napstablook blushes again, “uuhhgg… please…! that was so embarrassing…!”

”Even if [Y/n] just so happened to be pregnant, why did you assume you would have to be the father, anyway?”

”w-well… i-i don’t know… i can’t be the mom since [y/n] would be the mom…”

That’s… not what she meant at all, but she supposes it doesn’t matter all that much. She doesn’t know if she should be concerned that the ghost assumed that he’d have to take a prominent role in your life if that were the case for some reason. Or if she should be happy that he would be there for you if you were going through a pregnancy.

Strange.

“Anyway, once we go in, it would be best to keep all questions and comments to ourselves. Understand?”

”yes, miss toriel…”

Upon entering the house, Napstablook looks around with awe and curiosity. This is, of course, his first time seeing the inside of Toriel’s house. It’s so cozy and welcoming, making Napstablook feel as if he’s at home. He does find the books messily scattered on the living room floor funny; somehow he just knows it’s your doing. There isn’t much time to actually sight-see since Toriel is beckoning him to follow her down the right hallway.

They reach the last door on the right across a big mirror. Toriel knocks on the door gently.

”[Y/n], my child, we have returned.”

”Oh, thank God! Wait—We??”

”Yes, I ran into Napstablook on my way to the store,” Toriel explains, “He helped me carry everything back here.”

”uhm… hi, [y/n]…”

“…Hey, Blooky.” You sigh, “Not that you aren’t the bee's knees, Blooky, but I need Toriel to bring in the goods. I mean, unless you wanna see a nake-”

”I-I think just myself will suffice!” Toriel interrupts, flustered, “Hand them over, Napstablook.”

The blushing ghost nods, “i’ll-i’ll wait in the living room…”

────

The smaller diapers worked just fine as regular-sized pads, and while they can’t exactly stick to your undergarments correctly, they were a perfect substitute in these trying times. You explained this to Toriel (and poor Napstablook) when she asked about it once you exited the bathroom. When he asked you why you needed them at all, you figured it was time for a brutal lesson.

You didn’t get your biology degree for nothing, after all.

“So!” You clap your hands together, “That’s why I gotta bleed for one week every month, every month, for the next 30-ish years of my life until I reach menopause around 50 years old.”

Toriel and Napstablook look fucking traumatized.

────

Sans, much to Napstablook’s gratitude, doesn’t spook the ghost this time when he leaves the Ruins. He’s leaning against one of the trees on the path close to the double doors, his arms crossed while taking a little nap. Becoming alert at another presence makes Sans wake up fully. His grin falters at Napstablook’s weary expression.

”woah…” Sans cautiously walks up to the other, “you okay, bud?”

Napstablook gives him a tired look, “i was almost a father-”

“what?!”

“-but it was a false alarm… turns out the human just bleeds a lot for no other reason than just being a girl…”

“…????” Sans squints his eye sockets, “i’m—not sure i’m following you here.”

”maybe that’s for the best…” Napstablook sighs, floating away, “sorry, sans, but the menstrual cycle took a lot out of me… i just wanna get home…”

………..The what????

“okay… see ya, bud.”

Sans… isn’t really sure what to make of all that.

────

You sit with Toriel in the lounge, cleaning up the books off the floor. Napstablook was a little overwhelmed after your little revelation on female anatomy. Understandable, to be honest. You’ve dealt with this shit for the better part of the last twelve years and you still aren’t used to it. Toriel seemed a little more familiar as she kind of remembered from her time on the surface in the past.

It makes you curious about how old she is. You think you remember that boss monsters tend to live a VERY long time, longer than most monsters anyway. Though, as far as you’re aware of, only Toriel and Asgore are the only ones in the game that show their souls persisting after death. Do they have something similar to Lobster Immortality? What about other monsters like the turtle in Waterfalls (that you totally remember the name of haha-)?

Speaking of…

You put the last book back on the shelf, “Hey, Toriel. I’ve been meaning to ask you something, but I’ve never had the chance to ask.”

Toriel, sitting on the beloved Chariel and solving a word search, looks up with a smile, “Yes, my child?”

“Is there a way to look at my soul without being in battle? Us humans never had a way to look at our souls, and never imagined that one day we could see it. I want to see it again.” You explain to her, putting a hand on your chest.

Toriel’s cheek dusted a light pink, “Yes, there is a way, but before I show you, I should explain something important first.”

You laugh nervously, “What, you’re not gonna tell me that souls are actually really private and intimate outside of battle, are you? Isn’t that a little cliche?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Oh, God damnit.”

“I’m afraid these are just the customs here in the Underground.” Toriel chuckles, “Usually, it’s fine to show your soul with family and friends you absolutely trust with your life. During a fight, the intentions are extremely different, so it feels different when you bring out your soul during intimacy, and even just to bring it out.”

Hm, you guess it makes sense all things considered. There was a book in the Librarby talking about the vulnerability of souls based on the situations, so it would make sense if it’s different outside of battle, too.

It doesn’t change the fact that it’s still a little cliche, but you guess there’s no way of going around that.

“So, in the future, I should be careful about who looks at my soul. I got it.”

“Yes, precisely. There is also the matter of Soul-Bonding, but perhaps that can wait for another day. It’s a rather lengthy discussion.”

Soul-Bonding? It should be pretty self-explanatory, but if Torlel said it should wait then you’ll have to take her word for it.

You put your hands on your hips,  “Gotcha. Well, what about now? Can you help me bring out my soul?”

“…” Toriel is looking at you with wide eyes, “You… Do you truly… trust me to such a degree?”

You don’t hesitate with your smile and nod, “Yeah, of course, Toriel. I know you’d never hurt me. At the end of the day, you are the family I come home to now, and I wanna keep it this way for as long as you’ll let me.”

Tears swell up in her eyes; she looks away while clearing her throat. You’re a little smug that you got her emotional, you’re not gonna lie. You hope she can feel your sincerity, all jokes aside because you mean what you say. It’s hard for you to be serious a lot of the time because of your past, but you always hope that others know you’re being honest whenever you are being heartfelt.

“I greatly enjoy your company as well, my child. You are the first human to have fallen down here in a long time, and… and you would be the first human who wanted to stay,” Toriel puts a hand on her chest, the amount of warmth and love in her smile catches you off guard, “If it’s something you’ll allow, then… I’d like to share my soul with you as well.”

Now THAT made you tear up so fucking fast. For Toriel, a boss monster, someone who has lived for centuries, for someone who understands incredibly well… for her to want to share her soul with you… the very culmination of her being…

You really shouldn’t be so surprised, but you are. These monsters barely knew Frisk, yet they loved and accepted them so quickly. It’s not completely far-fetched if they (Toriel more specifically) would also grow to have an affection for you. Especially because you’re actually spending time with them and getting to know them more personally. You just… You never expect those nice things to ever apply to you as well.

You’ve always had to earn your spot in the room, you’ve had to earn the recognition and love you get today. It was only when you had met and then lost your first love that you started to accept that the only person you ever had to prove was yourself (and him, of course…).

To be given this love now… after doing nothing at all other than just exist…

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling quietly. “Yeah…. It’d be an honor, Toriel. Thank you for trusting me.”

Her smile softens as she steps a little closer,  “Now, copy me, and do your best to mimic what I do.”

Toriel puts her dominant hand over the center of her chest, so you do the same.

“This part can be very tricky, but it becomes easy over time. First, imagine what you are trying to show me. How is showing me your soul supposed to show me who you are? Your soul is all you are now, all you were in the past, and all you will ever be. All insecurities, all confidence, all of your secrets that not even you allow yourself to see, everything of who you are…”

There’s a white glow underneath Toriel’s hand. When she pulls it away, a white, upside-down heart follows out of her body. You can’t describe its glow, only that the soul looks almost flat in color, with the glow surrounding it. There are small, dark gray cracks scattered randomly as if it has been damaged over the years from heartbreak and loneliness. The light bounces off the surroundings, illuminating the space between you two.

This is the first time seeing a monster soul in person, yet you somehow understand that not all souls are like this. This is unique to Toriel, and to who she is as a person.

That soul…. That is Toriel…. This is Toriel.

Toriel smiles, “…Bring it forward with the trust that whoever you are sharing yourself with will accept you. Your body and what you are willing to show on the surface is like a bouquet of flowers. But your soul is like the roots. And sometimes, no one knows what to do when Autumn comes. This is why it is so important to show your soul only to those you can absolutely trust. Do you understand now, my dear [Y/n]?”

You nod slowly, entranced by the soul in front of you.

Toriel doesn’t feel in danger, rather she feels… happy that you aren’t turning her away.

She lowers her hand, letting her soul float freely, ”Now that you understand more of what it means to share your soul, I understand if you might have second thou-”

You remove your hand from your chest, letting a yellow heart leave your chest without resistance. It looks the same size as Toriel’s, shiny and less flat than hers in terms of color.

It’s you!

”My…” Toriel stares in awe, “What a beautiful gold… I’ve never seen a golden soul before…”

…Huh. Actually, now that she said it, your soul does look more gold than it does yellow or orange. Maybe because it’s a mix of yellow and orange? You’re—still not sure if you think Justice best describes you, but maybe whatever orange means is good for you? IF your soul is a mix of colors, that is.

There’s a type of melody that plays from someone's soul that, from what Toriel understands, only monsters can hear. With a bit of magic though, she can share it with you.

“Give me your hand, my child.”

You put your dominant hand in hers, and suddenly, there's music playing in the room. Faintly you can recognize the melody of “Heartache” though it's much slower yet high in pitch to give it a more light-hearted feeling. A little louder, however, is a familiar song that you haven't heard in a while. 

No, it wasn't a song from Undertale. In fact, the song sounds like… Ah, it's on the tip of your tongue! The more you try to remember, the further the recognition gets away! The piano music was slow at first, but then strings were added to the mix once the rhythm started picking up. It's so beautiful… And so fucking familiar.

Toriel smiles at your song, “This is the melody of your soul, [Y/n]. Humans can't hear it, but monsters are able to during battles or in moments like these. With some magic coming from the heart, I am able to share it with you. Isn't it wonderful?”

Wait.

A damn.

Minute.

Are the characters' themes an actual thing? It's not just part of the game, but something that actually exists within their souls?

So what about your music? It's obviously derivative from somewhere else, and that answer could give you a lot of insight about yourself. After all, Toriel said before that souls are who you were, who you are, and who you will eventually be. That must apply to your soul’s music, right? What does this mean for you?

Granted you're not exactly complaining because this song is a banger. You wish you could recall it though, it's annoying that you don't know what it is. But honestly? You don't think it truly matters at the end of the day. What you do know is…

Toriel squeezes your hand gently, the music of your souls is beautifully mixed.

”What a beautiful soul,” Toriel says with a warm expression, “for such a beautiful human.”

…You are truly loved.

Your Sou's Music (wow so cheesy I know but it's so slay)

Tag List (did you still want to be tagged? oops it's been like 3 years my bad gang)

@lemonboy011

[keanureevesisbae]

endeavors #14 - fantasy turned reality

Summary: They finally indulge in what August wants.

August Walker x Grace Stanford (asian ofc)

Wordcount: 2k

Warning: Public sex, nipple play, mention of blowjobs, fingering, orgasms (male and female), squirting.

Masterlist // endeavors masterlist

With me being on my period, my breasts feel extra sensitive. However, August has found a way to treat them carefully, without me hurting. He carefully massages them, sucks on my nipples and whenever I tell them it hurts, he moves to something else. But it barely hurts when he’s holding them and fondles them. 

Sometimes he whispers something along the lines of how much he loves my breasts. To return the favor, I pull down his pants and it’s one of the only times he allows me to do something like that. I barely give him blowjobs, but with me bleeding from my vagina and having coital intercourse during a time like that is a ‘pigeon’ like situation for me, he indulges. Heck, I even think he likes it. 

August holds my chin, watching me swallow it all down and he smirks proudly. ‘Good girl,’ he says. I bite my bottom lip—actually beaming at the compliment. I really hate myself sometimes—and sit next to him on the couch. He makes himself look presentable, leaning back and looking to the side. ‘What’s up?’

‘What is your ultimate fantasy?’ I ask him. 

He shrugs. ‘Not up your alley, I think.’

‘I think it is,’ I say. ‘Come on, you have seen me. Grace Stanford, sex machine.’

August then takes a sip of his beer and says: ‘No, I’m not telling you.’

‘Don’t you trust me?’

‘I trust you,’ he says, looking to the side, ‘but this might be too much.’

I pout. ‘Come on, August, tell me. Please. Even if it’s not up my alley, I will be respectful about it. You know me.’

August pats his thigh and gosh, dog owners wished their dogs were this well behaved, because in an instant I sit down on his thigh. ‘You sure you wanna know?’

‘Yes.’

He pushes some of my hair behind my ear, such a gentle and tender gesture. ‘I have a thing.’

‘That sounds exciting. Tell me all about it.’ 

He sighs deeply. ‘I like… To do things in public.’

‘Exhibitionist like things?’ I ask. When he nods, I let out a gasp. ‘Oh my goodness, you prepared me for this! With the vibrator in the restaurant thing.’

‘A little, yes.’

‘How can you dare to say this might be too much for me?’ I ask him. ‘Come on, I did that graciously. You have to give me more credit than that.’

He places his index finger underneath my chin. ‘Okay, how about you and I have sex on the rooftop?’

I swallow hard. ‘The rooftop?’ I ask. ‘Our rooftop?’ Meaning risking the chance of having a lot of people watching us. ‘We can try that.’

I expect August to laugh, to pat my thigh or ass or do whatever he usually does, but instead he pulls me closer and presses a kiss on my lips. It’s lovingly, it’s tender and certainly not at all what I expected from him. However I quickly melt against his frame and close my eyes.

‘What was that for?’ I ask him.

‘You’re the first one I told about this,’ he admits. It feels like something special and I’m not gonna lie, I’m honored. 

﹌﹌

Keeping quiet has never really been my strong suit with August, however now, as we are on the rooftop of our building, out in the open, I realize I have to keep it down a notch. It’s early in the night, meaning it’s already dark outside, but I can still hear the busy city, alive around us. 

At first it started a little as a picnic and it was borderline romantic, however I should’ve known that August had a very wonderful plan for the rest of the night. 

He has me on my back, his hand slid underneath the hem of my dress and his fingers stretch me out, constantly pressing against my sensitive spot. I gasp, a poor little substitute for moaning out loud. 

August uses his other hand to pull down the top of my strapless dress and fuck, do I feel exposed right now. It’s a delicious and borderline dangerous feeling, having my legs spread for him, my breasts on display and that all on the rooftop, underneath the sky that’s decorated with stars. 

The familiar feeling bubbles inside of me and I know what’s happening. Juices squirt out and I muffle my own moans, while he continues to abuse the tender spot. He’s rough, causing me to start to shake underneath his touch already. I know what he wants: he wants me to squirt over and over again. I know he loves that. 

I love August’s proud smile when it does happen again and I know how much he loves seeing me squirm underneath his touch. He pulls out his fingers from my core and I’m on the receiving end of a firm smack on my aching cunt.

I shiver on the blanket that I masterfully drenched. He leans forward, wrapping his lips around my hardened nipple, while he pushes up my dress, bundling the bottom at my waist. While he’s sucking on the sensitive bud, I hear his pants unzip and he gets in between my spread legs. ‘Look at me,’ he says once he sits up straight and I do what he tells me to do. He grabs my legs, his hands in my knee cavities and he pushes my legs against my upper body. And then he slides his hard cock inside. 

‘Fuck,’ I whimper, ‘you feel so good, August.’

His upper body rests against the back of my legs as they dangle on his shoulders. Bending me in the way he prefers, I can’t help but love it. He bottoms out completely and fuck, I feel him so deep. My hands find his arms and I let out a soft little sob, desperate for him. I need him to fuck me.

‘Words, Grace,’ he says. ‘Tell me what you want.’

I open my mouth, but not a sounds escapes.

‘Tell me.’

‘Fuck me, August.’ It leaves my lips in a hushed whimper, but he heard me. The sound of skin against skin, how fucking wet I sound and the strangled groans I hear from August, makes my head float, my heart beat faster and clench around his hard cock.

‘What do you think people will think when they see you?’ August asks. 

I want them to know I am yours. I just can’t seem to mutter it out. I want them to know I’m yours, that you fuck me best, that I am your slut. 

I whimper against him and he picks up his pace. My legs shake and I am thrown over the edge. As I ride out my high, I can tell he’s close too. He twitches inside of me and fuck, it feels too good.

Thick streams of cum fill me up and I savor the moment. August doesn’t pull out instanty. Instead he remains deep inside of me, allowing my legs to drop on the ground, before he cages me in, his head nuzzled in my nape.

I hold him close to me, clinging onto August’s protective frame, however I do feel something gnawing at my heart. 

It’s like we reached the end of the game. We had done it all. I embraced my squirting abilities. I learned to love my body. I appreciate sex. We’ve done what he wanted to do.

The program feels over now. 

I can’t keep doing this anymore.

I allow myself to enjoy it as his cock is still safely buried inside, however as he softens and exits me, sadness and anguish wash over me. August smiles at me, unbeknownst as to what is circling through my mind. He admires the mess he created in between my legs.

I pull up my dress again, covering my breasts and I close my legs. I sit up straight and look at August, who tugged himself back in his pants again.’August,’ I admit, wishing I had underwear here now. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

‘What?’ His voice is louder than the hushed whispers he nearly panted in my ear. ‘Why not?’

‘Because I am falling for you.’ So, it’s out in the open. No going back now. ‘You were supposed to teach me about sex and you did… But I can’t continue this, knowing that one day you will go off again to fuck a billion girls in a single month.’

August doesn’t say anything.

‘Every time you kiss me, that one time you made love to me. I just want to be yours, August and this… This platonic fucking, this program, it’s not working. I can’t keep wanting you, when all we’re having is sex.’

‘Grace,’ he starts, but I shake my head.

‘I can’t keep having these moments with you and every time I think you want something more, you just get up. Every time I think this is just a mindless fuck, you hold and kiss me like you’re my boyfriend. I can’t be pushed and pulled like this anymore.’ I stand up, cursing the fact I have his cum streaming down my legs, however August doesn’t let me escape. He stands in front of me when I want to walk away and I hate how he is dragging out this humiliation for me. He isn’t the one who looks fucked out and used like I do.

‘I love you, Grace.’

It causes my heart to do something totally unnatural and I think it’s not healthy either. ‘What?’ I ask him.

‘I love you,’ he repeats. ‘When we took that bet, I thought I was just gonna fuck you a few times and then you’d be satisfied. But it wasn’t just that. I witness you blossoming into this fantastic confident woman.’ He smiles almost sadly. ‘I… Every time I held you afterwards, I couldn’t stop looking at you. You are so beautiful, you are so sweet. I can’t believe other people didn’t see how much of a catch you are.’

I clear my throat, a little uncomfortable with where this is going.

‘That time you took care of me when I was sick, that time when work went shit and you jokingly flashed me because you said that your boobs can make everything better—which they do by the way—and how you constantly smile when you see me. It’s more than lust, I can tell.’

I swallow hard, mostly I make sure I am not going to cry.

‘Before,’ he says, ‘I was just following my dick and not my heart. Which in the end is probably the most idiotic thing to do. But you… If I follow my heart, you’re at the end of the road, you are my destination. I… you are the only one I think about. All I want is to love you forever. To fuck you senseless, to hold you afterwards and later on—I don’t fucking know—bake cookies with you, be domestic.’

‘No,’ I whisper, ‘that’s not true.’

‘It is, Grace. I fucking love you and I wished you just knew.’

And of course I start to cry, because I can barely get through an entire serious conversation without crying.

He holds my hand in his and whispers: ‘Give me a chance to be your boyfriend. Come on, we’re already passed the awkward sex phase.’

After a few moments, I realize that it’s true. We already passed the awkward sex phase. And… August wants to be my boyfriend.

I meet up his gaze and he adds: ‘Allow me to show you how I can be a magnificent boyfriend. I can even make a program again.’

I now let out a true laugh. ‘You and your damn programs.’

‘Can we try?’ August asks. ‘I am usually not the one to beg, but… Please, Grace, give me one chance.’

I nod. ‘Okay,’ I say, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. ‘You can be my boyfriend, August Walker.’

﹌﹌

endeavors taglist: @diegos-butt // @thelastsock // @liecastillo // @mis-lil-red // @sofiebstar // @abschaffer2 // @crazybutconfidentaf // @summersong69 // @gearhead66 // @xobriellaxo24 // @kebabgirl67 // @eldarwen333 // @kingliam2019 // @cherry-gemz // @sillyrabbit81 // @enchantedbytomandhenry // @lyrarodriguez // @islacharlotte // @sunshine96love // @oddsnendsfanfics // @xuxszx // @omgkatinka // @pterodactylterrace / @peaches1958 // @pandaxnienke // @teamfan7asy // @raccoon-eyed-rebel // @geralts-yenn

[obsessedwithtoomanythings]

The Terrifying Ordeal of Falling in Love with Leon Kennedy

CHAPTER 6

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader (female reader)

Series Warnings: Minor injuries, Leon teases reader a lot, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Drinking, Drinking followed by driving, DO NOT DO THAT THIS IS FICTION, Anxiety, Leon S. Kennedy has PTSD, Leon has an anxiety attack, Anxiety Attacks, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nightmares, Leon S. Kennedy has Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling, Probably incorrect medical talk, Strangulation in one tiny little scene, Reader's brother was a cop who was KIA, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Grief/Mourning, Christmas Fluff, Mistletoe, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Arguing, Love Confessions, Looking for Alaska is mentioned, Inconvenient Love Confessions, Penis In Vagina Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Leon loves eating Pussy change my mind, Shower Makeout, romantic smut, Desperate Leon S. Kennedy, They are both desperate for each other tbh, They say I love you as they come, Scar Kissing, Enthusiastic Consent, Always pee after sex, UTI PREVENTION, POV First Person, No use of Y/N

Words: 1.8K

Masterlist

June 2004

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me

There's a truth in your eyes sayin' you'll never leave me

The touch of our hands says you'll catch me if ever I fall

You say it best when you say nothin' at all

-When You Say Nothing At All, Alison Krauss

The door unlocking pulls my nose from my book and I lurch forward, eyes trained on the door in anticipation. As soon he steps inside, I spring into action.

“Leon!” I give him a fair warning before I launch myself into his arms, and with a huff of breath as I make contact, his arms wrap around my middle, returning the hug gratefully.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He sounds exhausted, words almost slurring together as he sways in his spot. “What are you still doing up?” I pull back, hands on either side of his shoulders to steady him.

“I was caught up in a book,” I admit shyly, and he huffs a laugh. “Are you hungry?” He nods. “I can make you something while you go take a shower if you’d like.”

“Would you?” I’m surprised by his responsiveness to the offer, his normal behavior to turn me down, telling me to go to bed and that he can handle it.

“Sure. What are you in the mood for?” As if he has the brain power to formulate that thought.

“Whatever. Nothing crazy though, please.”

“Got it. Just a simple lobster thermidor, then.” A laugh. A smile. Just enough to remind me that he’s here. He’s home. He’s alive. “Go. I got it.” He practically stumbles his way into the bathroom and for a brief second, I genuinely worry he’ll pass out in the shower. It’s easy enough to whip up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, taking care to use the strawberry jam, since he mentioned his distaste for grape in passing on the one occasion that I bought it. I set it down on a paper towel, carrying it into the living room, and setting it down on the coffee table before cracking my book back open. I get through about 2 pages before I hear the bathroom door open, and I tilt my head back to watch as Leon emerges.

Oh fuck. He’s got a towel wrapped around his waist, skin still damp and it catches on the lamplight, and I swear, my heart stops. He doesn’t need to look like THAT. I curse any God that’s listening for making him so damn attractive. His hair is a scattered mess, evident that he just ran a towel over it to stop the dripping.

He turns down the hall and that’s when I see it. The slightly bleeding wound that cuts from the top of his left shoulder diagonally, across his spine, ending at the bottom corner of his ribcage on his right side.

“Leon, what the fuck is that?” I’m standing now, fingers twitching, thinking of exactly the best way to take care of this. Why didn’t he tell me he was hurt?

“I was hoping you were still in the kitchen,” he mumbles, turning to face me before I notice the plethora of bruises and scrapes that litter his chest and arms, along with a burn that runs covers the top of his right hand, which he is using the hold the towel against his nethers.

“Dr. Dalton wouldn’t have let you leave like that.”

“He didn’t. I didn’t go in. Figured it would scab over pretty quickly and be done,” he spoke nonchalantly as if the gash on his back would just heal magically overnight.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Go put some pants on then get your ass back out here.” I head into the bathroom to grab my first aid kit as Leon clearly knows he’s been beaten, following instructions as to not incur further wrath. I sit down on the couch, setting the kit down next to me and opening it quickly, removing anything I think I might need. The injured man stumbles back out into the living room wearing a comfortable pair of gray sweats, obviously devoid of a shirt considering he knows exactly where this is headed.

“Where do you want me?” While still rifling through the kit, I reach over and grab a throw pillow, dropping unceremoniously onto the floor directly in front of me. Taking the silent cue, Leon drops to the floor, back leaning against my bare legs for a minute, until I part them to reach his injury better, the side of my knees resting against each of his shoulders. I grab the disinfectant spray before gently threading my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, pressing his head forward carefully before spraying. His shoulders tense painfully and I softly run my fingernails along his neck, tracing his spine. Leon’s shoulders drop almost immediately, relaxing.

“Okay, I’m gonna put some gauze on this and wrap it.” Informing him before I move has proven to be the most effective way to keep him calm in these situations, knowing that if he tenses up, it’ll be 10x harder to finish this.

“I’m sorry I didn’t go in.” The apology takes me by surprise, given his apparent lack of care for his injuries any other time I’ve patched him up. My hands freeze in place, pressing soft gauze to his back.

“Why?” I find myself asking, as if having him apologize wasn’t enough.

“Well if it isn’t the return of Nurse Nosy,” he mutters, and I scoff, ruffling his hair with my hand that isn’t busy holding the damp gauze in place. “I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

“Don’t make me give you another injury that needs treating.” He snorts, his shoulders rising with the huff of laughter. “Pink or blue?” I ask and he turns his head, trying to see what I’m referring to. I hold up the two different shades of compression tape for him.

“Blue.” I nod although he can’t see it. I begin tenderly securing the gauze with the tape. I gesture to the coffee table in front of him mutely.

“Made you a PB & J. Strawberry jam.” I give him some leeway so he can reach forward and grab it, despite having to raise and lower his arms while I wrap.

“There is a comment that could be made about you making me a sandwich,” he mutters, mouth clearly full by the way his voice sounds.

“I wouldn’t say that to the person who has access to the painkillers,” I giggle, tucking the last strand underneath more wrapping, finishing up. “Can I see your burnt hand?” He raises the hand up above his shoulder, allowing me to dab it with a healing ointment as he clicks the TV on, flipping to a news station. I grab the remote out of his hands, changing it to something else before handing it back.

“I was gonna watch that,” he complains, but I know, deep down, he’s grateful. He watches that, all he’s gonna do is torture himself.

“I’m sure there are better things on. I bet I can find an episode of ‘Jeopardy’ if I look hard enough.” I feel his chest shift in a silent laugh before he takes the final bite of his super late dinner. “You’re really tense in your neck muscles, you’re gonna give yourself a headache.” I can feel his shrug against my knees, before he does, in fact, find an episode of Jeopardy. Leon leans back against the couch, and I rest my hands gently against the sides of his neck. He tenses immediately.

“Sorry,” I mumble, pulling my hands away before I feel his palms cover them, pushing them back to their previous resting place.

“I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s okay.” An apology and now permission to touch his neck?

“Who are you and what have you done with Leon?”

“Shut up.” There’s no malice behind the words, the only tone that’s evident is his exhaustion. I press my fingers to the backsides of his jaw before applying a light pressure to the sides of his neck, and the resounding groan I receive almost makes me stop in my tracks.

“I didn’t hurt you ri-”

“Please don’t stop.” Well now I’m thinking about THAT in a very different context. I resume the motion, repeating it until I feel his muscles begin to relax, moving to rubbing gently against his hairline. More groans, gasps, and straight up moans leave his mouth, and I wish I could say my thoughts were innocent by this point. Turning my attention to the TV, I focus on that as much as possible to distract me from the uncomfortable moisture in my panties.

After I’ve loosened most of the muscles, I take to just carding my fingers through his damp hair, his head lolling to the side to rest against the skin of my thigh, exposed due to my shorts riding up a bit. By the time the credits roll, I realize that there is a light snoring coming from the agent in front of me, and while I don’t want to wake him, sleeping with his neck at that angle will completely reknot every muscle I just loosened.

“Leon,” I whisper, running a hand gently down the side of his face. His face is serene, devoid of the worry lines I’ve practically watched attach themselves to the tender skin. With his eyes closed, I can’t help but wonder what he was like before Raccoon City. Before STRATCOM. Before everything. “Leon.” A bit louder this time, and he stirs, sitting up with a jolt. “Hey, it’s just me. You fell asleep on me and I didn’t want you to mess up your neck.”

“Okay.” It’s obvious he’s still mostly asleep, struggling to rise to his feet thanks to his unsteady limbs. “Thanks, baby.” Baby? Leon drops back down onto the couch, hands resting on the fabric beside his thighs for a moment before he speaks.

“Will you do that for a little longer?”

“What?” He gestures to his head.

“Your fingers in my hair.” Don’t.

“Of course. Come here.” I scoot back, grabbing the pillow from the floor and placing it behind me so I can rest against it, flipping the lamp off before laying down completely. Leon finds the blanket draped over the back of the couch, tugging it over his back and my legs before resting his head on the middle of my chest, and while I knew this was coming, it still took me by surprise. I settle with his head there, his face turned toward the TV I know he’s not actually watching.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” he slurs, already on the brink of sleep as I thread my fingers through his blonde locks once more, finger combing the strands until I feel him start to snore again, a light sound that could almost be mistaken for breathing if you weren’t listening. But of course, I was listening. I’m always listening when it comes to him.

I fall asleep like this as well, his head on my chest, the smell of his citrusy shampoo in my nose, his breath warming the fabric of my thin sleep shirt, and my fingers in his hair.

Leon: @house-of-kolchek @bonnibuckets @athanasia-day @muffimtv Everything: @chaosandbubbles @kassiekolchek22 @akiramoon8088

[titsthedamnseason]

CALLING ALL VAGINA SHAVERS PLEASE HELP ME!!! i am leaving for vacation in the morning and i have made a HUGE!!! mistake. i have super sensitive skin so i usually sugar wax my bikini line because shaving makes it really irritated and plus i like not having to worry about upkeep while i’m on vacation. i couldn’t really find any sugaring places near my college so i was going to just get normal waxed, but my roommates ended up talking me out of it because i was worried about my skin having an adverse reaction to the wax and they all convinced me that since they shave and it’s fine, i should be too (i am kicking myself so hard because i never listen to shit like this! i know my body! but it had been so many years since i shaved down there i thought maybe it wasn’t as bad as i remember or my older skin would be resilient idk) and waxing is obviously more expensive so i was like okay fine

long story short i did end up shaving but the area is so red and inflamed and itchy and was bleeding a little (i promise i did all the steps right!!) so i know the damage is done now but does anyone have any tips for pain relief / making it look a little better / dos and don’ts for the next few days so i don’t fuck this up even worse

i don’t know when or if i’ll have wifi to respond so i hope anyone that responds to this will accept my thank yous in advance <3 wish me luck please

[mommyhorror]

diary post or whatever

this past weekend I went on a trip and on the last night we had a lot of fun but I ended up (super drunk) walking away from my friends and away with a stranger to his car where we had sex. I def “wanted to” when I was extremely drunk and bumbling .. but the me now and the me before this event would have said I don’t want to, I don’t have casual sex anymore, I don’t sleep with men unprotected and especially not ones I don’t know at all. So right now I’m not only emotionally devastated that it happened, but I’m also dealing with the physical effects of this “decision” - I took plan b the morning after as I was heading home, I’m now 6 days out and bleeding and have been having pain in and around my vagina. I am going to a doctor but I feel really alone right now because most if not all of my friends are pro- casual sex and every time I’ve talked about this (since I haven’t classified this as an assault or anything) people are like “good for you!!”/“fun! Crazy time haha!” And are also defensive of the concept of casual sex, whereas I’m pretty against it (for mySELF) and there’s this disconnect there. It’s just such a weird and bad feeling, im nervous about whether or not this man gave me a disease, weirded out by the fact that I don’t know him or his name or anything and will most likely never see him again in my life. Im mad that im dealing with pain in the worst spot imaginable and felt the need to take an extremely powerful drug (plan b) while this man literally got to enjoy himself the entire time. If it’s not obvious already, I didn’t achieve orgasm .. and this is why I’m not into casual sex. I feel like I’m in the twilight zone because no one is freaked out by this but I really am. And I hate feeling this way. Best case scenario, I never drink again and never experience this *again* and don’t have an STI. but it happened, it was bad, and I’m hurting now

[suspiciouspiece]

Dumb thought part 1 : 

Mikey : the bigger the pussy the bigger the size right ? 

Emma : 💀🤨

Emma : Istg Manjiro just buy me some fucking pads 

Mikey : :0 

Mikey : 😅

2 hours later 

Mikey : Emma….

Emma : What 5 foot bean  ? 😒

Mikey : I was gonna buy u some chocolates too but I won’t take this disrespect🤡

Emma : IM SORRY MY VAGINA IS BLEEDING AND MY BROTHER IS TAKING 60 YEARS AT THE DAMN STORE . 

Mikey : 😒

5 minutes later 

Mikey : they at your door🙄 

Emma: omg thank you so much 🥹🫶🏼

2 minutes later 

Emma: MIKEY WHY TF ARE THEY SMALL AND ONLY LEVEL 2 ?! I SAID MEDIUM & 5 ?! 

Mikey : I asked you the bigger the flow the bigger the cat right and you cuss me out 😒 go ask draken for help 

Adds draken in the gc :

Emma : Ken Ryuuguuji 💔….. I’m not ok . 

Draken : check the other side of the door , I don’t know why you didn’t just ask me to begin with babe . 

Emma: I’m fucking coughing up and crying thank you so much for actually being a decent man . 

Draken : just turn on the heat blanket, eat your snacks and rest . Also I bought extra so you don’t go through this next time . 

Emma : marry me please 💔

Draken : of course ❤️. 

Emma : I hate you btw

Mikey : whatever ❤️

private gc :

Mikey : anyways the plan worked …. She’s totally got to be in love now … probably think you her hero or something 🥰

Draken : 💀 I feel bad we kinda stressed her out but thanks 🙏🏽 

Mikey : just promise me you won’t fuck her the day after her period 🥲

Mikey : I don’t wanna be a uncle 😭

Draken : Lmaooo fine . 

Mikey : pinkie promise 🙁

Draken : Mikey …. Istg 

Mikey : 🙁

Draken : 🤝🏼 imagine that’s two pinkies cause it’s no emoji for that 

Mikey : 😃 

[confessions-official]

i still don’t know if the bleeding is from my ass or vagina. like normally, when i wipe my ass when i’m on my period (like i am right now), there’s blood that migrated or whatever, but now i’m scared i’m bleeding out my ass whenever i take a shit. because reasons.

.