#babies first time trick or treating
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
myymi · 3 months ago
Note
trick or treat *blinks at you*
👁️
you flipped a treat !!
His question is somewhat answered when the emeralds start rising again, this time taking the hedgehog’s unconscious body with them. The fox squeaked in alarm as his idol’s arm started to slip out of his grip. Tails stumbled onto his feet to try and match the height, but the emeralds kept rising until the little cub’s paw could no longer reach his hero's arm. “Please–” The kit sobbed, but didn’t do much to fight against the emeralds, “Please don’t— please don’t take him..”
34 notes · View notes
oso-nan · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
shelf update! i forget to post these but i cleaned up my top shelf and rearranged some stuff now that im home with all my house of 1000 corpses figs
the taller otis and the spaulding with the gun i found boxless at a comics/collectible store that had a fallout themed speakeasy in the back interestingly enough… i did not go back there. but i got those 2 figs along with one of doctor satan but ive demoted him to bottom shelf privileges till further notice. all 3 were $300 even though it was without the boxes they came in— and the guy said the store owners wont let him sell them separately so i feel a little scammed 😒
it looks sad and emptier than the first time i rearranged my top shelf (pictured below) but im gonna build up a bigger collection of mainly firefly trilogy/tcm stuff up here…
Tumblr media
10 notes · View notes
theghostiedyke · 1 year ago
Text
Happy Halloween!
7 notes · View notes
spookydetective · 2 months ago
Text
i fucking hate theater
#ogay time to ramble in the tags#so im in this community theater thing right? i signed up for the christmas play they were doing because i wanted an excuse to sing—#—christmas songs. they described it as a play with classic christmas music. i signed up and now i ring a bell at the end#so like. whatever. i didn't really care so long as i sung christmas songs.#but THAT'S THE THING#THEY TRICKED ME#they said /classic/ christmas music when they should have said /traditional/ christmas music#eg: we're singing the first noel and shit while doing a lap around the stage#AND ANOTHER THING#i did a musical with them not too far back. it was fun. i got really sick but i had fun. the directors were chill. they were normal#but THESE GUYS#they're so extremely intense and picky about this christmas play made for literal babies to perform at church and shit#and apparently they're also new to the directing game which. aha.#yeah even for someone like me who's only been in one show in her life. i could tell.#because this is an all ages production. all ages. all backgrounds. all skill sets#cool. fun. PROBLEM IS#they're treating everyone like broadway experts#changing shit a month off from production. not giving scripts. i had to write shit down in a notebook so i could remember my cues#even THEN IT'S THE SAME NOTEBOOK I USED WHEN I REPLAYED A BUNCH OF PICO GAMES#SO THERE'S MY NOTES ABOUT A SHITTY FLASH GAME FROM 1999 AT THE BEGINNING#ok not shitty at the time but like#you get my point#but YEAH#WE HAVEN'T EVEN BLOCKED THE BOWS YET AND WE'RE ALREADY DOING FULL COSTUME RUN THROUGHS#FUCK THIS#AAAHHHHGGHHHH#im the morning
1 note · View note
screampied · 4 months ago
Text
𝜗𝜚 ( 6 ) TAPES FOUND BY "SCREAMPIED"
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𓉸ྀི an. hi people welcome to my first kinktober event! some things may be scrapped + tweaked or added on but i will try my best to complete them all. make sure to heed each of the warnings before each fic. happy almost spooky season! ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა taglist : closed
𓉸ྀི cw. all “tapes” will contain explicit content and will each be tagged accordingly with their proper warnings.
Tumblr media
TAPE ONE — BLOODLINE.
feat. vampires! sukuna ‘n choso + threesomes.
؏  summary. when they’re both 10s but they’re also vampires. hungry blood-thirsty vampires who’ll stop at nothing to claim you. with how sweet you taste, maybe humans aren’t so bad after all.
cw. vampire! au, threesomes, double penetratíon, manhandling, spít-roasting.
RARE TAPE FOUND: MAKE ME JUNO!
feat. sukuna, choso, geto, toji, gojo + breeding / baby fever
؏  summary. when they’re just so find that you’d let them make you juno . . you know.
TAPE TWO — WANNA PLAY PSYCHO KILLER?
feat. ghostface!toji + roleplay / knife play.
؏ summary. you know girl, usually when someone’s about to get stabbed, they scream—not moan. ghostface is supposed to be scary, intimidating, terrifying. but what happens when he’s tall, hot, and has a scar that runs down the right side of his lip? maybe his motive this time was to make you scream out his name in another way. welcome to act three.
cw. slight dacryphilia, glove + mask fetish, manhandling, body worship, corruption kink.
TAPE THREE — THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY.
feat. stripper!geto + dry humping.
؏ summary. the last thing you’d expect for a surprise birthday present by your friends was a visit to a men’s strip club. geto suguru—your dancer’s got it all. tall, handsome, and he wants waaay more than just thirty minutes with you.
cw. switch geto, lap dancing, choking, 69, dry humping, nipple play.
RARE TAPE FOUND: DEATH BY SÉX!
feat. sukuna, choso, geto, toji, sukuna, gojo + overstim.
؏ summary. his fatal cause of death? op – overly pussydrunk. the prime suspect? located right between your pretty legs.
TAPE FOUR — THE GRUDGE!
feat. ex-husband! gojo + hate séx.
؏ summary. perhaps screwing your ex-husband while the kids are out trick-or-treating wasn’t the best but with him, the only treat he wants to trick is not in a basket, it’s right between your legs… boo!
cw. brat taming, hate séx that turns into make-up séx, body worship, brēeding kink.
TAPE FIVE — ERROR..
TAPE SIXX — ERROR..
extras mini-tapes.
nanami rubbing his wedding ring against her.
choso making you sqúirt since you ‘can’t’ finish.
nerd! nanami teaching you anatomy of the clít.
Tumblr media
edit: i switched some things out but i might add things later!
filmed by screampied.
7K notes · View notes
bunnis-monsters · 3 months ago
Text
Baby bees’ first Halloween
Male!Bee Hybrids x Fem!Reader
Bunni’s Monstertober Event
Oct 10th
Oct9
Oct11
summary: when your baby bees want to experience the Halloween traditions of the human world, you do everything in your power to make the night special for them.
warning: mostly fluff, short sex scene at the end, breeding, oviposition, more than two p in one v
Tumblr media
Although honey and sweet things were things all bee hybrids were experts on, not a single one of them was aware of the Halloween holiday.
That was, until one of your baby bees looked up from your lap at the movie you were watching. In it, the characters were talking about Halloween as they walked home from school.
The baby bee’s eyes lit up, and he held onto your shirt with his tiny fists as he watched the movie with you. His siblings were already fast asleep in cuddle piles all along the bed and floor, so he took the opportunity to get some extra cuddle time with his precious mama!
The next day, you woke up to your sons buzzing around, their clumsy bodies pumping into walls and each other as they babbled and squealed with delight.
“Really?”
“A special day where you get candy?”
“A-and you get to dress up!”
“Mama!”
Their attention turned to you the second they noticed you were awake. You were tackled by your sons, the sound of buzzing, purring, and multiple voices trying to speak at once filled the room.
“Mama, hungry!”
“I wanna trick or treat!”
“Mama, mama!”
You laughed, holding them close to you. “Shh, shh… one at a time.”
As you began to feed your little ones, they told you their plans.
“We’re gonna trick or treat!”
You blinked, patting the back of one of your little ones after he was done feeding. “Truck or treating? And where do you plan on doing that, boys? You know little ones aren’t allowed to leave the hive.”
Whines and huffs could be heard as they all poured and stomped their little feet. “I wanna eat candy!”
“Costumes sound fun!”
“Mama, please!”
So like any other mother would, you decided that you’d need to plan something for your little ones to do for Halloween.
The week leading up to that special day was busy. Decorations were being put up, lights hung, and candy delivered. Before long the entire hive was buzzing with excitement for the special day!
“My queen, we’ve prepared the costumes.”
You glance at one of the worker bees as he brought in a rack of custom made costumes for your little ones. So far, you had only birthed 3 batches of baby bees, so you currently only had 15 of your own children in the hive.
“Good. Have the children try them on and make sure they’re to their liking.”
You sighed softly, sitting next to the bed of one of the young bees that had recently been taken into the hive. He was just a baby, but so sickly and small. It hurt your heart to know other hives didn’t care as much as you did.
“Mama…”
His little voice made your heart clench in your chest. You weren’t his mother, but you reached out and held his tiny hand regardless. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“I wanna… dress up too…”
So another costume was ordered, the little one requested to dress up as a flower.
When the time finally came for Halloween, you were awoken by a swarm of your little ones all jumping onto your bed and squealing with delight.
“Mama!”
“Halloween, it’s Halloween!”
“Candy!”
You groaned a bit, sitting up and rubbing your tired eyes. “I told you, my little love bugs, we can’t trick or treat until later tonight.”
They were restless through the day, but thankfully you anticipated this and had a small fall fest planned. They all played with hay, bobbed for apples, and got their faces painted by the talented artists of the hive.
“I’ve never seen a baby bee so happy before, my queen,” one of your attendants purred into your ear, nibbling on your neck. “You are certainly the most attentive, amazing-“
When his hand dipped between your thighs, you gave his arm a playful smack. “Tsk, tsk… it’s their night, you aren’t getting any until all my little ones are asleep.”
You attendants all pouted, determined to cling and whine to you about how needy they were. For the most part you didn’t mind, but they were such jealous things!
Settling down with your little ones, you let them nap as you chatted with the worker bees. It wa stole for them to get in place for trick or treating.
When your little ones began to wake, you helped the sleepy baby bees get their costumes on before walking with them through the hive.
Every work station had been converted into a mini house, and the baby bees squealed with delight as they ran and flew to knock on the doors and receive their special treats.
You giggled, watching them bump into each other and toddle around, eating candy and buzzing well into the night.
After going to every house, they were exhausted, toddling after you as you got them all back to bed.
“Was Halloween fun?” you asked in a soft voice, tucking them in.
“Yeah…”
“Mmm… mama…”
“Fun…”
Once they were all asleep, you were guided out of the nursery and to your bedroom. YOURE attendants were pouting, a line of bee hybrids waiting outside for their reward.
“We all worked very hard…” one of them murmured while kissing your fat thighs and tummy. Your panties were already gone, your bee hybrid lovers much too eager to keep them on for long.
Being stuffed with one cock then two, feeling your belly stretch and expand as egg after egg was pushed inside of your womb.
You had promised them all some loving in return for working so hard for your little ones, and they were all so desperate for a turn that they were jumping your leg and pushing more than one cock into your fat cunt.
It was a long night full of cum, love making, and lots of eggs. But by the end of it, they were all satisfied and purring as they curled up with you in a cuddle pile.
Babies and adults were similar in that way. Just like the babies loved to spend time with their mother, the adults yearned to be in the presence of their queen.
————————
NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat
2K notes · View notes
yeyinde · 5 months ago
Note
(sighs dreamily) i loooove the way you write fucked up and gross simon. the size kink and somno drabbles have been living rent free in my mind for almost two weeks now. the recent stalker piece was also so deliciously terrifying, i actually had a dream/nightmare today that was a mixture of stalker!ghost and not-dog!soap 😭
are you planning on writing any more for either of those?
ahhh thank you!!!! this had me wondering how i could maybe blend the two and this happened.
stalking. HEAVILY implied noncon somno. size difference.
Simon decides your dog, your baby, needs a man in the house. and since you like to call yourself his 'mama,’ then it’s only right that he becomes the daddy both of you need.
Your dog does not like strangers.
He's a rescue and the sort of life he lived until now, until you, is mostly a mystery. You found him on a rainy day, panting under your awning - a gnarled mess of matted fur glued to bone. Too skinny to survive another winter. You took him in right away and gained his trust. His love. But whatever he had left to spare (lots, it seems) is strictly reserved for you. Everyone else is a threat, a worry. Even the vets he's known since you found him all those years ago still get the same wary glances, the same growls then they lean in too close to whisper something in your ear.
He's just—special. The sweetest thing ever when it's just you. Your baby. People joke—slightly nervous—that he treats you like his mother. Following you closely with his big, glossy eyes tilted up to stare at you. Loving. Cuddly. Rests his big head on your lap at night with a great, big sigh. Tired from a long, hard day of protecting his house from squirrels and the stray delivery driver.
But when it comes to others—anyone, really—he’s aggressive. Territorial. All the vets and trainers say that it's his breed. That he just needs to be trained. Exposure therapy. Behavioural. And it works for all of two weeks before he's back to his stubborn self. Snapping at anyone who gets too close to you.
You post warnings on your fence. Your front door. Take precautions when you walk him. Warn anyone who gets close that he doesn't like anyone. Full stop. No exceptions. And it works. Helps ease the stress. He still goes to therapy. To training lessons. But he's smart enough to trick them into thinking he's learning.
And it's fine. People can't get too close to you. To his house. His territory.
Or so you thought.
But he's been acting strange lately.
You caught him barking at something through the fence a few months ago; spittle flying from his muzzle as his lips peeled back, snarling and vicious. If the fence wasn't reinforced, you think he would have broken it down to get at whatever was behind it.
It continued like this for a few days. Each time you went to check and see what was there, all you find is littered cigarettes. The teenage son of your neighbour, you think. He likes to hide in the dense woods so his parents can't find him. You'll talk to him about it later. Ask if he can do it a little further away from the fence so he isn’t disturbing Baby. 
As the days grow, his growls and snarls diminish before stopping outright. In the interim, your unease grows.
It's small—at first. 
He wants to be outside more. Always whining at the back door, scratching at it with his paw. When you let him out, he runs right to that spot by the fence. Sits down, and just stares. When you go out to look, there's nothing there. Just a dark, sprawling coppice. Cigarettes on the ground. But something catches his attention. Keeps it. Holds it.
He leads you to that spot sometimes, too. Nudges you with his big, furry head to your thighs. Shepherding you to the fence, and then sits back, clearly preening. Proud.
"You're mama’s silly boy, aren't you?" you coo, scratching his ears. It must be the neighbour. Maybe a stray deer wandered by. You catch a flash through the tree line. Twin puddles of black peering through the tangled weeds. Your dog perks up, looking towards it. A deer, you think. A stray buck. You huff, patting his head. "Made a new friend, huh?"
But you can't shake the feeling that something else is out there. That something is staring at you.
Nothing, you tell yourself, fighting off a shiver. It's fine. Fine. He sneaks off at night sometimes. You hear him playing in the hallway. Wandering around the house. The tack-tack-tack of his nails against the hardwood as he walks back to your bedroom lulls you back to sleep. You feel the bed dip. Something warm against your back. You sigh, melting into the sheets—
There's nothing to worry about.
He'll protect you.
But the next morning, you find him locked outside. The patio door shut. The deck is dried from the sun, but his fur is wet. It rained last night. You drifted in and out to the patter of it on your window. The soothing weight of his body curling around you—
He must have gotten out in the morning. Rolled around in the grass. But when you put him in the tub later to scrub the rainwater off of his cost, his belly is dry.
It's nothing. He was in bed with you last night. It's fine. Fine. Everything is easy to explain away as coincidence. Nothing usual. The feeling of being watched. The missing food from your fridge. The creaks of the old house at night. Things shifting around—keys missing only to turn up somewhere else. Rodents chewing through your landline. 
The panties you shed, tossing into a corner before getting into the shower going missing—
They’re just—lost in the wash. You must have thrown the leftover food away when you cleaned earlier and forgot. The lingering scent of cigarettes. Smoke in your bed. The cloying scent of loam, humus. Fresh dirt. The stains on your bed. The strange smear in the gusset of your panties when you peel them apart.
Something thick, firm between your thighs—
Fine. You tell yourself. Everything is fine. At best, it's a gas leak. At worst—well.
Baby will protect you. 
Always. 
But the next day, he brings his favourite toy to the back door, asking to be let out, and this isn't—
It's not normal.
He's possessive over his toys. Keeps them on his daybed and refuses to let anyone touch them. Only you. He doesn't bring the. Outside, either.
But when you peer outside a few minutes later, the toy is lying by that spot near the fence. He's sitting down, tail wagging. Happy. Excited. It continues like this for the next few days. He brings his toys to the fence, coming in later, licking his lips. When you brush his teeth at night, you smell something gamey on his breath. Meaty. 
Getting out of bed a few hours later and playing in the hallway. Going to sleep with you at night, but somehow getting out in the early hours of the morning, waiting for you on the patio when you remember the huff of his breath over your neck less than an hour ago—
No. You're just—
Getting the time wrong. It's fine. He'll protect you. He doesn't like anyone but you.
You hear footsteps in the hallway at night next to the click-clack of his nails. When you jump out of bed to check, it's just him. Sitting by the back door, head craned over his shoulder when he heard you coming. His favourite toy is sitting on the ground in front of him. You fight a shiver. The feeling of eyes burning into you churns your stomach.
"I'm going crazy, sweetheart," you coo, but feel the threads of your sanity begin to snap one by one. "But you'll keep me safe, right?"
His tail wags. You pretend not to notice the gap in the patio door. Opened just a crack. You shut it, forcibly telling yourself to remember to close it next time and fight the memories of locking it before settling on the couch to watch old re-runs. You drag him back to bed, burrowing your head into his fur, listening to the thud-thud-thud of his heart in your ear. 
When you dream that night, it's of a big, scarred hand making its way between your thighs. A rasping, masculine voice in your ear commanding you to be good—
You wake up with your thighs sticky, wet. Your cunt pulsing. There's an ache there; a sting. It twinges when you move, tapering into a sore throb as you swing your legs over the side of the bed, woken up by the strange dream—fingers between your thighs, a head resting on your belly, calling you a good girl—and a noise.
A low murmur comes from the living room. You wince with the first several steps, forcing yourself to ignore the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs. The wetness that drips down your leg, some of it already dried, sticking to your skin. It’s fine. You just had a—
A wet dream.
—everything is fine. Fine. Your heart lurches. Lodges in your throat. Each beat feels like a fist against your tissue trying to break down the prison of your flesh to flee. 
You slowly inch toward the hallway, the sound, making excuses for the fear that curdles in your belly. The itch in the back of your head that calls you stupid. Demands you go back to bed. To sleep. You’ll wake up in the morning to Baby slobbering over your chest, drooling as the time ticks away in a slow crawl towards his usual breakfast. 
It’s tempting. The sleep congealing in the corners of your eyes, weighing heavy—molasses-thick—over your sense of awareness: cobwebbed in that strange, uncanny realm of sleep and wakefulness; hypnagogia turning shadows on the walls into human shapes. The whisper of wind into the brassy drawl of a voice. 
Through it all, the prickle rears. Says something isn't right. Hasn't been right for a while now. It's fine. Everything is—
It doesn't make sense at first. Your brain tries to wrap around the images your eyes feed it. Untangling the dizzying sense of confusion that runs along your hindbrain like a jagged knife; grazing tissue, scraping over nerves. The picture comes together quickly. There's no misinterpreting the shapes.
A man is lounging on your couch. Legs kicked up on the coffee table, ankles crossed. The remote is held in one hand as he lazily flicks through the channels on your television screen. The picture of ease. So relaxed, so comfortable in your space, that you begin to feel a little bit like an intruder. A voyeur peering between the curtains.
This feeling is reinforced when you peel your eyes away from the horrifying mask on the man's face—a black balaclava—and find your dog lounging beside him. Resting with his head over this stranger's thick thighs. His head perks up when you approach, tail wagging, but he doesn't get up from his spot. Content to bask in the half-hearted attention the man doles, a hand buried in his fur. Dragging over his ears. Down his back. Monotonous flicks of his thick wrist, nearly the same width as the barrel of a baseball bat.
And that just trembles down your spine in the worst way.
He's the same height as you are sitting down. Takes up two cushions on the couch with his absurd bulk. Massive, you think. And then it all rushes through you. The knife slips into your cognisance.
There's a man in your house. Petting your dog,
your dog who tries to bite the same vet he's had for years. Who trusts, who likes, no one but you—
You make a noise. Something strangled in the back of your throat. Muffed, unable to escape through the clot of your heart getting there first. It tangles around your pericardium and is too late to take back. To swallow down. 
It doesn’t matter, though. 
The man has been watching from the beginning. 
Dark eyes (a dark, black flash between the leaves—) drill into you. Staring. That familiar, unease feeling is back again, creeping up your spine. It's been him the whole time, you know. The thing behind the fence. Must be. The same brand of cigarettes you found on the opposite side is sitting on your coffee table, right beside his feet.
His chest expands with his inhale. You smell stale smoke. Something wild. The scent of the forest after a summer's rain shower.
"Finally up, are you? Thought you were gonna sleep all day." His voice is deep. Brassy. The growling roll of an approaching thundercloud. You shiver. Jerk back, but—
Baby growls.
He's never done that before. Never barked. Never snarled. Never nipped.
But right now, his teeth peel back, muzzle wrinkling as he lifts his lips. And you know it's playful. Seen this look on his face when you throw the ball across the yard. It's just him being his silly self. He won't attack you. Won't maul you. 
The man lifts his hand and your dog limbers up. Shakes. He jumps off the couch and trots toward you. Nothing is threatening in the way he moves. It's the same lumbering gait, the same happy wag to his tail, but he moves himself around you. Stands between you and the only escape.
"Baby—?"
"Taught 'im a few tricks," the man drawls conversationally—like he wasn't a stranger in your house. "Got a good boy on your 'ands. Jus' needed a bit o'trainin'—”
He snaps his fingers and Baby moves. Bumps his head into the back of your thighs. Pushing you. Nudging you toward the man. It’s so horrifying familiar that you find yourself moving without a thought. Following along. 
"He jus' needed a man in the house, didn't he? A father figure—" 
You're going to be sick. Think you would have been already if your heart wasn't lodged tight in your throat, keeping everything down. 
The man lifts his hand. Curls his fingers. 
"C'mon, mommy," he taunts, voice a derisive roll. "Come sit on Daddy's lap. It's movie night tonight."
Baby pushes you forward happily, tail wagging, wagging—
Happier than you’ve ever seen him as this stranger reaches out, grabbing your waist and hauling you onto his lap. You think about fighting immediately, struggling to get out of his hold, but he moves back and the unmistakable, blunt press of a gun sends shivers rolling down your spine. You still instantly. Back drawing tight. Fear is a wet, hot pulse behind your ribs. 
“Don’t fight it, birdie—” You feel the warm, damp press of his mask against the shell of your ear. The ridges of his lips move beneath the fabric as he speaks. 
You hear him inhale, drawing in the scent of your shampoo—your fear: an oily thick miasma pooling behind your ears, against your nape—and feel tears pool against your lashline when a surge of familiarity wells up at the solid, firm weight of his chest against your spine. His thigh slips between yours, spreading them wide over the arch of his muscle. Limp, dizzy, you fall back into his chest when he pulls you in, slotting a burly arm over your ribcage. Locked in tight. A shackle. 
“Ain’t go’ nothin’ t’worry about,” he continues, hips shifting. Moving. And—
It’s a not gun. You know it isn’t. When you whimper, it throbs—
There’s the echo of a groan in his voice when he huffs, lips pursing into a kiss. “Nothin’ at all. C’mon, Baby—” 
And Baby obeys eagerly, jumping up on the couch beside him. His snout is warm, wet, when he presses it to your arm, sniffing. Please, you think, staring into his eyes as tears swell, pooling down your cheeks. Please—
But the man lifts his arm, and Baby circles the cushion before falling against his side with a deep, content sigh. Hope is snuffed out of your chest in an instant. The man’s hand falls to his head, rubbing his skull affectionately. 
“Good boy.” Baby perks. His happiness is a palpable thing that swells around you as he melts, eyes slipping closed. “Gonna be a good boy while mum an’ dad spend some time together, ain't you, boy?”
His arm tightens around your waist. Chin notches over your shoulder as he shifts back, legs kicking out to spread your thighs further apart.
"Now," he drawls, hand sliding down to the mess between your thighs. You shiver against him, toying with the idea of running, fleeing—but he must know. Senses it, maybe. He lifts his hips, pressing the gun into your spine. A threat. A warning. But with the way he swallows you up—broad chest closing in on you, trapping you on all sides—you know it's futile.
He has you.
Your submission makes him purr.
"Baby's sleepin', so now let daddy take care'o mommy—"
2K notes · View notes
ssaltlicker · 2 years ago
Text
Were you actually held to unrealistic and unattainable standards as a child or did people just encourage you for doing menial things because you were a child and now people dont do that for you anymore
0 notes
oceantornadoo · 5 months ago
Text
“captain john price. surely you’ve heard of him?” the secretary blinks at you, faking a smile. “oh, that john! and who are you?” you want to rip her lashes off one by one. “his wife.”
that gets her to stop blinking, to actually look at your ID. “your last name isn’t price.” the gall. “it’s the twenty first century, sweetheart. now check the list and let me through.” she diligently checks the list, nodding at the match. seemingly gone mute, she gestures at you to follow her as she walks down the base hallway, passing countless doors and plaques. she stops outside of his door, doe eyes locked on the name plaque. one knock, then two. “sir, there’s someone here for you. your wife.” a pause and then. “send ‘er in.”
she opens the door and gestures you in. you can’t help the smile that grows on your face as you take in the sight of your surly man, a cigar in hand as he overlooks paperwork. he looks up at the click clack of your heels with a smirk matching your own. dropping your bag on the nearby couch, you round the very large wooden desk to stand in between his legs, john already having turned to welcome you in. there’s just one thing missing. “you can go now.” you turn your head owl-like to meet the secretary’s eyes, noting the shock on her face. she closes her gaping mouth abruptly, then shuts the door with no further ceremony.
“wasn’t aware we got married.” you turn your attention back to john, whose hands are already trailing down your calves to take off your heels as you stand on his comfy office rug. you hum as he removes them one at a time, callused hands brushing the frail bone of your ankle, the arch of your foot. once that’s done, your hands slide into his beard on instinct, settling yourself in his wide lap and thanking the ikea gods he has a humongous chair. “your secretary is pushy.” he snorts, leaning a weathered cheek into your touch. “she’s new.” you cut him off with a kiss, lips brushing his like you’ve been wanting to for days. missing the feel of his skin, the scent of cedar and cigars, lonely and pining for him in bed.
“you haven’t been home in three days, johnathon.” the full name comes out when you’re mad or playing at it, a sly trick to make sure he doesn’t know which is which. unfortunately he can read you too well and ignores your schemes anyways. “mission’s movin’ fast, lovie. been only sleepin’ a couple hours here and there.” you steady yourself on his lap, pushing closer and closer until your pelvises meet. “where?” his eyes flick to the office couch and you hum.
“i’ve missed you.” it rushes out like a wave, too intimate to take back. you shouldn’t be showing your cards so soon but he smiles anyways, blue eyes gleaming. “that why you’re terrorizing the office staff?” you nod against him, too choked up for a proper answer. can’t describe how cold and desolate you are without him to warm you up, inside and out. “i’ve missed y’ too, sweetheart. your feelings aren’t too big f’ me, don’t worry.” he always gets you, unfortunately. you lay your head down on his heartbeat, purring as his hands caress your ass and thighs. “i’ve missed my big strong man taking me to bed.” you emphasize it with a hip roll, grinning at his groan.
“ yeah, baby? missed daddy treating you righ’?” you groan at his embarrassing words. “johnnn, you can’t just say shit like that.” he laughs again, beard brushing the top of your head. “can if it’s true.” you sigh, planting a kiss on his collarbone. “hav’ to get used to that talk if you want the wife excuse to be real one day.” you freeze at his words. surely not. but…maybe? you have to check. “your wife?” the hands that have been exploring pinch your ass, sending you further into his arms. “tha’ alright?” you contemplate it. mrs. price. nice ring to it. “yeah,” you nod, and that’s that.
slight misogynistic undertones at the bitchy secretary but it’s fiction oops
2K notes · View notes
acid-ixx · 2 months ago
Text
do i look like him?
— just another series concept. please note that talia sexually assaulting bruce is retconned in whatever portrayal i have of her. i will not tolerate any racist or sexist remarks towards her character for a mischaracterized version of her, written by some gooner.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
i don't know if anybody would be interested in a certain premise i'm planning. taylor's song, "like him" is resonating off of my body, and i've a draft written inspired off of the song featuring yandere batfam x damian's twin! reader x yandere! al ghul family.
wherein instead of being neglected, you're treated like royalty by your own family. your twin is subjected to the cruelty of being raised as an assassin. you're met with scarred hands, nicked back, and calloused skin every time he comes back from your shared room after another particularly harsh training. yet every time you worry for your older twin, he'd silence you with the same bloodied hands that handled bodies like ragdolls, gently like it has never killed, with hushed promises whispered by your ear that "this is necessary for your protection, akhi/akhti."
at first you'd be convinced that this family lifestyle is normal. your mother is doting, she is kind, she is where you learned the word mercy; unlike the fierce image she displays in public. you're often spoiled rotten with her favorite shades of clothes, and her teachings emanate within you a deep sense of loving for animals. you never truly see her cruelty for other humans, as she often makes you sit by her lap upon a seat you call a throne when you were all but a mere five year old, playing with your hair, muttering affirmations and cradling you on her chest every time you ponder too deeply about the word, 'father'.
a word you'd read from those fairytales by the library, a word you craved to know, a word forbidden to be stated by everybody within your castle-like home.
she'll call upon your brother every time your curiosity gets the best of you, and the duo would try their best to sway your attention away with playtime. either it'd be stories, or damian showing you new tricks he'd learn from masters long overthrown by your twin, or it would be as simple as talia dragging both her beloved children to the huge kitchen, demanding the head chefs to bake you and your brother's favorite dessert (a little moment to spoil your brother after a hard-earned day of training, even if damian isn't always fond of sweet confectionaries; your grin would always tempt him to take a bite of your food if it means spending a day being himself).
it seems even damian plays along with the sick fantasy of not acknowledging the possibility of an alive father figure to you. not like you'd be aware of it, too caught up with your grandfather teaching you about rare species' on the verge of extinction, his (rarely) soft gaze fixed on the way your small body would gently pat the face of his wolf companion, or your brother constantly vying for you, his younger twin's, attention, eliminating all possible rivals who could potentially act as your future playmate that only he has the privilege for, or how your mother seeks you, her youngest baby, out, for a day of rest after another mission, doting smooches on your face, her lipstick smearing all over the soft chub of your cheeks, dismissing your pouts
a perfect family, with not much left to desire for your part.
so why is it that talia would often hear damian complain about your sudden fixation about a father figure? you'd mumble, something about one of your servants who mentioned visiting her father for vacation, a man who works as a merchant for his family; you asked them what your father's job was, what his name was, "why isn't he here at the family dinner?"
you asked, with wide, pitiful eyes, a feature long foreign for hardened assassins, but associated only with you. a quality nobody in the league dares to criticize; your gentleness the only thing keeping their leaders sane, keeping most servants alive as you find precious each and every single living being; not exclusive to animals or plants, but to humans too.
you're the league's only hope for reprieve, for softness in the moments of emboldened duties and priorities. you're the fingers that caress on calloused skin and the lips that kiss bloody scars. the hearth that warms even the coldest of hearts.
which was why nobody attempted to answer you, no matter how much it breaks your heart; because nobody wanted to ruin your soft and kind heart, or see the sullen droop in your eyes, or red, sniffling nose.
yet once ra's heard the confession of you being aware of what a father is like through the mouth of your servant, he'd immediately demanded another assassin to eliminate whoever dared mentioned such preposterous concepts to his grandchild.
throughout their rage, throughout damian nuzzling his head on the crown of your, muttering that whatever his baby sibling is sputtering is nonsensical, mere fantasy, arms encasing your entire body. he'd cradle you, run his hands against your hair even with furrowed, always angered brows; all the same questions lingered in the back of their minds:
is your current family not enough? why is it that the more you grow, the more you... wear the same expression of stubbornness, a quality your mother is sure you've adopted from you... father.
she may not be the best mother, taking both you and damian away from the arms of bruce wayne after she had learned about her pregnancy after a night spent together with the man, but she did it for the sake of her children; for your future, too.
bruce wayne will not be a good influence to you. if he tries so much to subject you into becoming another one of his robins, destroying your innocence, your perception of the world into a bleak portrayal of lackluster colors— ra's wouldn't hesitate to destroy the entirety of bruce's home.
and the manor is nothing! nothing, mind you, compared to the castle you call your home. only you deserve the richest of the rich, the shiniest jewels and the best treatment in the world. what more can gotham offer you? what more, if not for broken bones and bruised knees?
and so they settled upon ruining your perception of your father, with no known face to be plastered upon your memory, no known source, or picture— at such an early age.
if you yearn so much for a father, why not paint the image as dark as the cowl he wears?
why don't they feed you lies about him never wanting you and your twin in the first place? you'll be given opportunities to call an empty line, hoping your father would pick up, would respond and tell you that he's coming for you. they'll give you time to write letters, even if it takes your crummy fingers hours to finish a dedicated letter for your father, after years of being unable to meet him; it causes all the more ache in your mother's chest, witnessing her beloved youngest stay up late, whispering whimsical wishes about how excited you are to read your father's reply to you.
all your mother could do was kiss your forehead as she sat by your side, and rub your delicate cheeks with her fingers, mumbling that her baby should sleep now.
your mother never lies to you, no?
at least, not outright in your face.
damian, hates seeing the heartbreak in your eyes, but he's the very same twin who comforts you every damn time you fall to your knees after discovering that the letters you sent to your father's locations were long since unanswered — even if they're all hidden away in a vault of every possession you thought you lost. he'll pick you up with his trained body, and you'll melt even further into his form, shivering at the prospect that you're an unwanted child in the face of your father.
soon.
soon, you'll learn to despise bruce with every being of your soul, and learn to only reserve the association of warmth for your only family. you'll be the spoiled royal of the al ghul, and you'll come to find yourself grateful that you're raised without his presence, deluded into thinking that he abandoned you, that he never truly cared in the first place.
you love your family, you hate bruce wayne.
he is not family.
he is not your father, he lost that status long ago right after you thought he'd ignore all your calls, your messages, letters, gifts, every and any signal sent to the man you once called your father right after learning his name. he made you hope, he left the light flicker once flickering within you now blown away, leaving only an empty husk of your wanting to meet your father.
you hate bruce, you hate him so fucking much, you're ashamed that he's even your father in the first place— even if he's the very same man working tirelessly, day and night, to save you, once he caught news of what his children looks like, and locks eyes with your hopeful ones, a rare sight amongst the imagery of assassin. he plans to retrieve you, to save you, from the castle you call your home; truly what you call your cage.
little did you know that you are more like your father than you are with what you call your family.
Tumblr media
— heavily inspired by @anxiousnerdwritings portrayal of twin!reader.
a/n: i honestly don't know half of what i wrote. i'm out of my mind, and i'm honestly not confident with the outcome of this concept. if people do like it (leave comments, or inputs, or whatsoever) i might post a chapter about this (since i do have one written in my drafts a week or two ago). if not, i'm dropping this and leaving it as a concept mostly, a one-time thing at best. so if anybody does like this, please do tell me. i do have a lot in store for this concept, specifically the way manipulation works within this family convincing you the other side is evil; i've been through this once w/ my family actually ngl, so writing this was a bit fun.
Tumblr media
997 notes · View notes
lovingloversstuff · 3 months ago
Text
Baby fever with Nanami
Cw and tags: Short text. AFAB reader and use of female pronouns. Smut. MDNI
Masterlist
Tumblr media
You always get too excited in Halloween, decorating the house and buying candies for the kids. You put some facial painting and wait, excited to give some candy. Nanami has always found cute his little wife moving around, but this year, something was different.
The way you knelt to talk with the little kids, giving them candy and talking excited as you praise their costumes, changed something inside of him. The idea of having a little mix of you and himself, taking your kid to trick or treat, seeing you share your excitement with a small proof of your love... makes him go mad. He suddenly needs to make you the mother of HIS child, to see you all round and soft because of him.
And you did notice this. In the way he rolls his hips deep inside your cunt touching all the right places, how he doesn't stop even when you've cum a couple times. He's usually so talkative during sex, but now he's buryed in your neck, groaning and whispering things as "mine" or "gotta breed my wife" from time to time. Your nails dig into his back, leaving marks, and nothing coherent goes out of your lips at this point.
But nothing could prepare you for when he came, filling your insides as deep as he ever has before. He rolls his hips back again. Fater, desperately and messier than the first time. He's moaning so needy, probably overstimulating himself.
"Kento!" You gasp, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. "I'm sorry darling, I can't stop," he says, breathing heavily, pressing a kiss on your forehead as a light sweat layer covers his body "I have to fill you more and more, I have to cum so deep inside you to make sure you end carrying my baby by the end of this night"
And, oh, he does. Hearing him say that, seeing your usually dominant husband acting so needy did something to you, your cunt squeezing him so right that he just cum again. You hug him as he lays over you, trying to catch your breath. But that was only a round of a looong night. Nanami is a persevering man, after all. If he wants to get his wife pregnant, trust me, he will.
542 notes · View notes
clown-bimbo · 2 months ago
Text
Despite being transmigrated to a world of magic almost completely different to your own, with a rich history and culture you know nothing about, you are still expected to go to school.
And you can't even get any of your medications for it.
You're like halfway through the school year, and you are stressed. Maybe that's putting it nicely. You are stressed, pressed, and depressed, and studying for a history test of a world you were never a part of. And on top of all the typical school bullshit, there's also your social life, Grim, whatever bullshit Crowley throws your way. There's also the crushing dread you'll never get home again, and the depression that comes with your situation and oh yeah the depression that runs rampant in your brain without the proper chemicals to tell it to shut up.
You're fuckin S T R E S S E D.
And your buddies are starting to notice it.
Hi, and welcome to the first horny addition to Stuck In TWST Without Meds. Today we'll be taking a look at how Cater, Trey, Leona, Rook, Vil, Idia, and Malleus might fuck your brains out to distract you from the fucking everything in your life.
18+ content below the cut. minors, this one isn't for you
all characters (including you) are 18+. established relationships.
In hindsight I don't think this is at all "smutty" enough so I'm sorry!!! But I'm really proud of how each one ends. Might go back and make them smuttier or make a smuttier part two idk but I like how it is rn
🍀
Trey already typically stays up fairly late, what with vice housewarden duties and all, but he's surprised to find you have him beat. When he left you in his room, it was with your promise that you'd be done in a minute. Buy he was gone for a good half hour longer than 'a minute', and there you were, still at his desk, furiously scribbling away with bags under your eyes.
Cute.
You don't even notice when he comes up from behind you to place a small kiss on your cheek.
"I think it's about time for bed, prefect."
"Just a minute."
"That's what you said an hour ago."
That gets you to actually look at the time. You whimper at the hour gone (and little progress made), but brush him off.
"It'll only take a minute."
Trey sighs and shakes his head.
He considers for a second leaving you be, but this is the man who got Riddle away from studying for treats. He's got tricks up his sleeve. Though he is about to use some very different tricks for you.
It starts with his hands on your shoulders. Innocent little rubs to your shoulders. Another kiss to your cheek. A kiss to your jaw. A kiss to your neck... that sweet spot between your neck and shoulder. A nibble.
His hands are moving, too. From your shoulders, to your biceps. Soon he's taking your hand in his, holding it up to his lips.
"Trey--"
"Yes?"
"W-what," You suck in a breath as he leaves another love bite on your neck. "What are you doing?"
He simply hums.
His other hand gets to your thigh.
Your pen is abandoned.
💎
Cater whines your name from his spot on his bed.
"Just a second, Cater."
"But that's what you said an hour ago!"
He has that adorable look in his eyes, and if you'd only look at him!!! he KNOWS he'd have you in his hands.
But you won't, and he doesn't.
He flops back onto the bed with a sigh.
Until he gets an idea.
For a second, one foolish second, you think you have peace. Until you start hearing a quiet but telltale shlick shlick shlick.
His breathing starts to quicken. Then he's oanting. Soon you can hear quiet moans escape his lips.
And you can hear your name as well.
God damn it.
Cater grins as you finally get up from his desk.
🦁
Your stress is stressing Leona out.
He's lounging on his bed while you work on studying for Trein's test. Leona commented that you're taking freshman history, which is "baby stuff" to which you reminded him "I AM LITERALLY NOT FROM THIS WORLD, LEONA." And, to his credit, he did try to tutor you, but Leona is the kind of tutor that only works for certain individuals and you, bless your heart, are not that type.
So he gave up (lazy lion) while you continued to work. But he can basically hear your cogs turning from his spot and it's just not productive for either of you.
So, with a growl, Leona grabs you by the collar, only to start aggressively unbuttoning it.
"Leona-"
"Shut up."
"Leona, I-"
To which you are met with a 'shut up' kiss.
But you're pretty quick to forgive him once he has you on your knees under him.
"You're working too hard, Herbivore." He grunts from over you. "Give that little brain of yours a break and let me do all the work, alright?"
🏹
It's already difficult for you to continue studying when you have Rook whispering all sorts of French terms of endearment into your ear.
He's all over you, trying to coax you away from work and into bed with massages and the aforementioned French nothings.
Nothing.
He sighs, leaning back.
Until a wicked little idea brings a grin to his face.
"Mon amour," He whispers, to which you hum in reply. "I'm going to get a snack." Another hum.
A second later you feel a hand at your pants zipper. You look down to see none other than Rook, of course, hitting you with a closed eyed smile.
👑
Vil had been helping you with your homework. Bit even after he had stopped to get changed for bed, you had kept to it. And now you had vil worried about you. While he respected your gumption, you weren't going to get anything out of staying up all night and worrying yourself. You had used up your productive hours (quite productively, he would like to add) and now it is time for sleep.
He calls your name once.
...
Oh, this will not do.
He stalks over to you. He reaches out with one perfectly manicured hand and traces your jawline.
"Darling," He purrs. "It's time for bed."
"I cant." You reply. "I-"
"Uh, uh, uh, uh." He brings a slender finger to your lips. He takes your chin between his fingers and turns you to look at him.
"It's time for bed." He repeats. "Are you going to behave for me, or am I going to have to show a naughty little spud its place?"
💀
Let's be real, Idia's probably not going to sleep at a reasonable time, but he's also not staying up stewing over homework. If he's gonna have you staying up all night in his room with him it's gonna be—
W-w-w-wait, not like that!!! He was gonna say if you're gonna be staying up all night with him it would be cuz you're playing videos games! That's all!!
Oh, but now he's thinking about it... but you're working... ugh, but it's such beginner knowledge! But you're so focused... you... you wouldn't notice if he–
But you do notice. You do notice the 6 foot tall flaming haired nerd (affectionate) humping against you. It would be harder not to notice.
🐉
Malleus is concerned about his precious child of man. He can see how stressed you are. How hard you work. He wants nothing more than alleviate the troubles plaguing your mind.
And Lilia had a... curious suggestion.
Youre working away within your own dorm room when there's a knock at your door.
Malleus grins down at you.
"May I come in?"
And you say yes.
You worry about your work left upstairs, but you play the role of gracious host and prepare him a cup of tea. He takes a seat.
"You've been troubled recently." He notes.
You sigh. "I've just been stressed with all this work."
"I see." He's silent for a moment. "I dont like seeing you in so much distress." He confesses. "Might I offer my assistance?"
You blink. "Oh, sure. Yes, I'd love that. Thank you." You expect he's going to help you study.
You do not expect, however, for him to press you up against a wall and his lips against yours.
735 notes · View notes
codfishing · 3 months ago
Text
Pairings: ghoap x single mom!reader
TW: just a fluffy meet-cute on Halloween
You were starting to lose hope as you tried to find a neighborhood that actually participated in Halloween; it was your favorite holiday and you wanted to make sure your kiddo’s first trick-or-treating experience was a good one.
But you found a bustling neighborhood and your spirits lifted as you parked your car along the edge, happily unbuckling your daughter and making your way into the neighborhood.
Your daughter was fascinated by everything, and was surprisingly unfazed by the decorations, including the scarier ones, and she was especially interested in the costumes of the people milling about the neighborhood.
She was especially interested in the man dressed as a skeleton sitting at the end of his driveway with another man whom you assumed was his husband dressed in a kilt.
You waited at the edge of the driveway and told your daughter what to say, and she immediately went up to the man in the skeleton costume, staring up at him silently as they both cooed over her Belle dress.
After a few moments you nervously called out, “Baby, it’s rude to stare. What do we say?”
“Thank you!” She said loudly, prompting another laugh from the two men and you take a couple steps forward, smiling.
“No no, sweetie, say ‘trick or treat’,” You corrected gently, smiling more as she held out her kitty cat bucket and repeated the words.
“It’s alright,” The man in the kilt said with a Scottish accent (you honestly were less surprised by the accent than you were the mohawk) as he grinned up at you.
He eyed you up and down as your daughter was preoccupied with running her fingers over his partner’s skeleton gloves, and the Scot asked, “No costume?”
You laughed nervously. “Didn’t have time to put one together. It’s not for lack of want, I promise.”
He hummed and smiled again, reaching out a hand. “I’m Soap, and this is my husband, Ghost.”
You took his hand and shook it as you introduced yourself too, raising an eyebrow after pulling away. “Interesting names.”
Ghost looked up then, shooting a playful glare at his husband before looking up at you. “He means Johnny and Simon.”
You laughed at that and you could see Simon’s cheeks lift under his balaclava adorned with a half-skull before he went back to having a small conversation with your daughter, making your heart flutter slightly.
“Want a treat too?” Johnny asked then with a grin. “We’ve got jell-o shots for the parents.”
“Ooh,” You sounded before hesitating. “Sure, one won’t hurt.”
Johnny stood up then and disappeared into the dark entryway of their house, reappearing moments later with two of the small containers. He handed one to you and you were about to tuck it away into your sweatshirt pocket when he scoffed playfully.
“Come on, bonnie,” He said, nodding towards you with a grin. “You don’t wanna be walking around with that all night, do you? Take it with me.”
With a sigh, you smiled and opened the shot, tapping the plastic container against his when he reached out and downing the jell-o shot while trying to ignore his tongue releasing the lime green jell-o from the plastic, though it was hard to as he kept his eyes on you while he did it.
You could feel your cheeks flushing slightly and were grateful for the darkness shrouding your pink face, handing the empty cup back to him when he offered.
“That’s a girl,” He praised, leaving you more flustered.
Another group of costumed kids came up and you immediately remembered where you were, crouching down next to your daughter.
“Come on, sweetie; there’s other kids who want a turn,” You said gently, reluctantly pulling her away from Simon with an apologetic smile.
Their eyes lingered on you as you bade them goodbye with a wave that they both returned, their smiles widening as your daughter waved as well and loudly said goodbye.
The short interaction lingered in the back of your mind as you walked through the neighborhood, making the rounds and ending up on the other side of the street after a while.
As you walked along towards the next house, you heard, “Oi, bonnie!”
Looking up, you realized you were across the street from Simon and Johnny’s house again, and Johnny was waving at you.
“Want another one?” He called out, his wide grin nearly glowing in the dark.
Your decision was made for you as your daughter pulled you towards the street, pointing towards them.
“‘S Simon!” She exclaimed excitedly and your heart melted, causing you to lead her across the street towards them. Though admittedly you weren’t complaining in the slightest by being around the two men again.
The large man crouched down, his smile obvious despite the mask hiding it. “Hi, sweetheart.”
Johnny moved to stand next to you after you paused, nudging another jell-o shot into your hand.
“Thanks,” You smiled before adding, “This is the last one though; I have to drive us back home.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You don’t live ‘round here?”
Shaking your head, you sighed and looked down at your daughter who was happily showing Simon the treats she had gotten so far.
“We don’t get trick-or-treaters at our apartment,” You explained, looking back up at Johnny. “And since it’s her first year, I wanted to make sure she had fun.”
Johnny blinked before grinning. “Well, let’s make it fun, eh?”
He moved to set down the large bucket of candy he had been holding and you stared in shock. “What?”
Straightening up, Johnny nudged Simon’s shoulder before looking back at you.
“Come on, there’s a street two blocks over that’s got more people,” Johnny explained as Simon stood up as well. “We’ll show you.”
Your brain put two and two together and you started stumbling over your words. “Oh, you don’t need to do that! I’m sure we can find it and I don’t want to be a burden—“
“Nonsense,” Simon said then, leaning down to pick up your daughter when she reached out her arms to him, surprising you since you were usually the only one she let pick her up. “If it’s the little one’s first time, we want it to be as fun as possible for her.”
You looked between the two men, but again your daughter decided for you as she started babbling to Simon, who turned his attention to her and started walking off holding her tiny hand in his.
Johnny grinned down at you and nudged you again, leading you after Simon who was happily carrying her as if he hadn’t just met her twenty minutes before.
As you walked through the neighborhood, you learned that both Simon and Johnny were in the military, and that they had actually returned from a mission earlier that day (“Just in time for Halloween but not enough time to really do costumes,” Johnny explained somewhat sheepishly).
You ended up telling them about your divorce (Simon showed he was still listening to the conversation by adding comments here and there despite your daughter monopolizing his attention as she led him up to houses with her as you and Johnny waited at the end of the driveways), and how it was just the two of you now since your ex-husband decided he wanted nothing to do with your daughter. Neither of the men said anything on that but you saw the look they shared of anger and something else that you couldn’t quite discern in the darkness.
Halfway down the new street, your daughter decided it was Johnny’s turn to help her and she reached out for him instead, and you had to suppress a giggle at Simon’s jealous huff as he handed your little girl over to the beaming Scotsman.
As Johnny and your daughter started walking, Simon fell in step with you. You found that he was much quieter than Johnny but was still a great conversationalist, slipping in puns and horribly funny dad jokes when he could. He told you about how he and Johnny met in their unit, and told you about their teammates while you listened intently. He listened just as intently as you talked about your own job, asking questions here and there that showed he was actually interested in your writing career, which made your heart flutter again.
“You know,” You started after a not-uncomfortable lull in conversation as you both watched Johnny chase your daughter through a yard. “For a man who likes dad jokes, you missed the perfect opportunity for your costume with your callsign being ‘Ghost’.”
Simon blinked before his mask lifted as he smiled again. “I figured that would be too obvious.”
“Well next year I expect the right costume,” You teased, nudging him playfully.
“Oh yeah? Next year I expect any costume from you,” Simon teased back, giving you an obvious look up and down.
“Yeah yeah,” You laughed, waving him off as he chuckled next to you.
Johnny had managed to wrangle your giggling daughter and carried her back towards you two, breathing hard from having to chase her.
“Bloody hell, I thought I was in shape until I had to chase a toddler,” He huffed, causing you to laugh hard.
You noticed your daughter starting to whine and after checking your phone, you realized it was definitely past her bedtime and you felt guilty for getting lost in conversation with them.
“Alright, I think it’s time to call it a night,” You announced reluctantly, turning back slightly in the direction of your car. “I need to get her home before she falls asleep on your shoulder.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Johnny waved you off with a grin. “I don’t mind one bit.”
You smiled at that as they both followed you and you looked back at them, smiling fondly.
“I really do appreciate you two helping her out tonight,” I said gratefully. “I feel a little bad though about intruding on your night.”
“It’s fine, lovie,” Simon spoke up in a warm voice. “Couldn’t have asked for two better intruders.”
You couldn’t help but laugh slightly, still feeling a little guilty for highjacking their night. Your daughter was passed out on Johnny’s shoulder by the time you reached the car and he handed her off to you before stepping back with Simon.
As you buckled her into her carseat, you could hear Simon and Johnny conversing quietly behind you but you couldn’t catch any of what they were saying.
By the time you straightened up and closed the door, it was just Simon standing there and he chuckled at your questioning look.
“Johnny ran up to the house real quick,” He explained. “He’ll be back shortly.”
“Got it,” You said before smiling. “Thanks again, Simon. It was really wonderful meeting the two of you.”
He smiled under his mask and pulled you into a tight hug much to your surprise, but you returned it with a contented noise and briefly wondered if it would be weird to say you wanted to hang out with them again.
As he finally released the hug, Johnny jogged back up to you two and shoved something into your hand.
“Another treat for when you get home,” Johnny said with a wink before pulling you into a tight hug as well. “Drive safe, lass.”
You nodded and the three of you said your goodbyes before you got into your car, trying to not wake your daughter as you turned it on and started driving away.
It wasn’t until you were at the first stoplight that you looked at the ‘treat’ Johnny had given you, pausing when you realized there was a piece of paper taped to the top of the jell-o shot, and you opened it curiously.
The car behind you had to honk to get you out of your frozen state as you stared down at the note.
We hope to see you and the little one again soon, bonnie; call us when you want to be taken out for dinner—the new stepdads
Part 2
524 notes · View notes
pseudowho · 1 year ago
Text
Grandpapamin
Tumblr media
(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)
When Nanami Kento becomes a grandfather...
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
Kento thought the happiest day of his life was when he became a father...but then, his baby had a baby.
It was like love...squared.
He and you dutifully took care of your daughter's house while she was in labour. Kento pruned the plants, and baked, and paced, and paced, and paced.
While Kento knew in his heart his daughter was being well cared-for, he felt stunningly unable to protect her while she went through the biggest day of her life.
In the night, you woke, and your hand brushed out across the sheets for Kento...only to find him not there.
You creep through the house, and find him sat in the armchair by lamplight, his eyes glistening with tears as he goes through an old box, full of photographs of his baby, little onesies, a handprint in clay, a decoration she made at school, her first drawings and handwriting.
You sit with him, in front of the fire, warm and reminiscent, of those long-short years when your babies were babies.
"...she'll be alright?" He worries aloud.
"She'll be more than alright. She'll be amazing," you reassure, kissing his greying temples, stroking crow's feet.
You lead him back to bed, his hand dry, like soft warm leather, and you hold each other with the earnest familiarity of an aged love.
When Kento's phone rings at 7:37 in the morning, a time he never forgets, he is out of bed with a lithe hop, answering, desperate for news.
A sweet, swooping joy, an excited wake-up, an embrace and relief; his grandchild is born, and everyone is safe.
Kento has a grandson; his daughter is resplendent, pink-cheeked, exhausted and proud. Kento holds her close, shedding tears into her hair as she cradles his new grandson; "I'm so proud of you, darling. I always have been. You deserve him."
He drives his daughter and her partner home, knowing they are exhausted.
Kento and you never overstay your welcome; you ensure the new family is comfortable, give kisses and hasty reassurances that you are both just a phone call away, and go home.
Kento cannot stop jiggling his leg in delight on the way home. He is imagining all the wonderful things he wants to do with his new grandson.
Kento calls everyone-- Gojo, Yuuji, Ino, Higuruma. Everyone is delighted. Everyone secretly wants him to be their grandfather.
It is only when Kento and you have gone, that your partner opens the freezer-- "Oh my god!" They exclaim, laughing, "I think your dad has cooked enough to last us a month!" Kento has, obviously. He believes in being organised.
Kento spends the next few years of his life being a thoroughly naughty responsible grandfather.
Visiting Grandpapamin? Oh, only the finest will do.
While Kento always plans wonderful meals with you, his daughter turns her back for just one minute, and returns to find her son with a treat in his hand.
Kento pleads ignorance as he slides the biscuit tin back into the cupboard, a glint in his eye.
Wickedly good at hide and seek. Teaches his grandson all the tricks.
Takes his grandson down to the river, Kento in some waders, his grandson in shorts and rubber boots up to his knees, with little nets, glass jars on strings.
Kento has a reference book for everything; birds, fish, flowers, trees...he and his grandson catch minnows, his grandson splashing, holding his little round cheeks in joy.
Kento thinks his heart might burst, retaliating playfully when his grandson splashes him, giggling.
Kento's grandson is well-versed on the flora and fauna by the little river, by the time he is a grown man. All he wanted to inherit from his grandfather was the old reference books they pored over together.
His grandson inherits Kento's Cursed-sight too, a truth which Kento feels deeply responsible for, as he did when it passed down to his daughter. He fears for his grandson and the terrifying visions he will see in the world.
One day, you catch Kento teaching himself little magic tricks. He curses as he gets tangled in long colourful handkerchiefs; you laugh and blush as he pulls garish flowers out of his sleeve for you. He shows them to his grandson like he has known how to do magic his whole life.
After long sunny days in the garden and by the river, you often find Kento asleep with his snoozing grandson drooling on his chest. You take a photo, every single time, put a blanket over them and leave them in peace.
Kento, who tucks you under his arm on the sofa when they've all gone home, your evenings as intimate as they have always been.
Kento would rather his daughter didn't spend all of her hard-earned money on daycare. Instead, Grandpapamin arrives at her house at 7:30am sharp, ready to babysit ahead of the workday.
The days are silly, wholesome. Tears and tantrums are swiftly, calmly de-escalated. Kento can and will persuade and bribe at mealtimes.
Kento who is just disappointed when his grandson behaves badly-- and that is so much worse than angry.
Kento who takes such good care of his and your health, determined to spend as many healthy years with his family as possible. His old scars ache and creak though; he longs for the sun and sea.
The next year, his grandson is big enough to carry Kento's birthday cake to him, and Kento grumbles, pink-eared as he mulishly accepts a chorus of "Happy birthday". There is an envelope with the cake.
"What's this?" He grumbles again, shooting his daughter a chastising look, "I told you you didn't have to get me anything." She smiles at him, lovely brown eyes twinkling. Kento looks inside-- tickets. Flight tickets. He looks up in surprise, eyebrows raised.
"Kuantan?" He presses, excited despite his earlier chastisement.
"I thought we could all go. Together."
Though his blade hangs up on the wall, proud and displayed, at your insistence, Kento feels like he has been bestowed with the luck of the gods, to have dodged every bullet to get here.
His old scarred burns tingle and prickle, his eyepatch is old and worn, but his grandchildren never feared him; he is just Grandpapamin. He bakes. He takes them to the river. He teaches them how to whittle. He gives the best advice. He wears the softest cardigans.
Kento, who spends the golden years of his life with you, his world, the one who hung the stars.
2K notes · View notes
woso-dreamzzz · 3 months ago
Text
Bug's Halloween
Leah Williamson x Child!Reader
Summary: The tenth of my Halloween-centric fics
Tumblr media
"Sorry, Bug," Leah says, switching off her phone," But Bear's having an early night. She's already asleep."
You pout as you stand on the stairs. "But you said Bear could come with!"
"I know, Bug," Leah says, tying the laces of your boots," But you know Bear can't help it when she falls asleep."
"Auntie Keira said they have to go to doctor's soon."
"That's right, to look at Bear's sleep. So we have to make adjustments sometimes. I know you wanted to go trick or treating with Bear but Auntie Lucy is keeping Bear in tonight. She doesn't have the energy to go out so it's just going to be us."
"But it's Halloween! I dressed up just for her!"
Leah breaths out some soft laughter. "I thought you dressed up for Mummy."
"Her too."
You're wearing your special Nobbs Arsenal shirt and shorts today. You'd known you wanted to dress as a footballer for Halloween for ages and ages, you just didn't know which one.
Your first thought was Thierry Henry but Leah's old Henry shirt from when she was little didn't fit you properly so you couldn't wear it. Your next thought was Sarina but you couldn't find an outfit for when she was a player.
That's when Leah reminded you that your old Nobbs kit still fit you and you decided to go out as Mummy instead.
You were meant to be going out with Bear. Last year, Bear and her mummies dressed as the three bears from Goldilocks and you're pretty sure Bear was going to remain baby bear for this year too but now she's sleeping and you know better than to wake Bear when she's sleeping.
You're sad that she can't come with but that means you can work doubly hard to get enough sweeties for the both of you.
"You ready?" Leah asks and you nod, jumping down the last two steps.
"Ready!"
"Right, up against the wall please. I want to send a picture to Mummy."
You pose for a few pictures before you grab your ghost bucket and nearly bolt down the street.
Leah grabs your hand first though, keeping you close to her side before you can get too far away.
"Let's go!" You whine when Leah starts walking slowly.
"We've got plenty of time, Bug. We can take it slow."
You huff but stop pulling, letting Leah dictate the pace and which houses to go to.
"Remember," She says, straightening out your jersey and handing you your bucket," Smile. Nice and big. They'll think you're cute."
"But I am cute. Mummy calls me cute all the time."
Leah laughs, giving you a little push. "Go on."
The couple at the door coo and fawn over you as you give them your biggest and best smile.
"Can I take one for my friend? She's sick and couldn't come out today."
"Oh, you go right ahead, sweetheart."
You frown at that. "I'm not sweetheart. I'm Bug."
The couple coo again as you take Bear's share and you run back to Leah to show her your haul.
"You can't keep telling people Bear is sick," She says as you both walk to the next house.
"But she is," You say," Auntie Lucy and Auntie Keira are taking her to the doctor's. You don't go to the doctor's if you're not stick. Mummy had to take me when I had my sore throat. I was sick then."
"Doctors do more than just sick people," Leah complains," They look after hurt people and-"
"Bear's hurt?! Like when she fell and hurt her arm?!"
"Bear's not hurt," Leah says," But sleeping as much as her is worrying for Keira and Lucy. They just want to make sure that there's nothing in Bear's body that isn't working properly. That's why they're taking her to the doctor."
You guess that kind of makes sense.
Doctor trips are kind of scary in a weird way. Not a Halloween-scary way but just in a generic scary way. Like the scary kind of feeling you got when you saw Leah tear her ACL.
You imagine a trip to the doctor will be doubly scary for Bear so you make sure to take a bigger handful of sweets for her at every house.
"When can we see Bear next?" You ask as Leah unlocks the door," Because I've got sweeties for her. I want her to have them before her doctor's meeting. Sweeties always makes things better."
Leah smiles softly at you, hand running over your head as you look up at her.
"You're a good friend, Bug. I'm sure Bear would love some sweets before her appointment."
You nod. "Good because I collected a lot for her."
"Alright, Bug," Leah says," That's enough excitement for tonight. Let's get you ready for bed."
"And Halloween movies in your bed? Mum, you promised."
Leah sighs. "Fine, yes, but then you have to promise to go to sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow."
You grin. "Promise!"
425 notes · View notes
livelaughlovesubs · 4 months ago
Note
For the prompt event just one more from me- Writer's choice Freebee for any character and prompt(s) you want
As a treat
I WANNA WRITE LICKING BOOTS OR HEELS i dont really care which character
Dom!Rich!reader x sub!Broke!male!character
Warning: sadistic reader & masochistic character, sugar baby character, boots/ shoes licking (the soles too), dirt eating, power play, mention of vomit (didn’t happen), stepping, cumming untouched, degration
Anniversary event
Tumblr media
He was just so pathetic you couldn’t help it. Really, it made your senses get disoriented whenever you pretty begs you with his tail between his legs, asking for money with an ashamed look across his face. Your sweet little sugar baby was insatiable, wasnt he? The audacity he had, to ask for more when he was already getting a lot— and he knew very well how ungrateful that must sound. That’s why the least he could do is get on his knee while hesitantly pleading with you, not even daring to look you in the eyes.
Gently, you tapped his clothed thighs with the tip of your shoe, staring down at him all amused. He didn’t know, since he wasn’t looking at you, but you enjoyed seeing him embarrass himself whenever he just acts so damn disgraceful. Slowly, you moved your leg upwards. First along his thighs, to his pelvis, ignoring his bulge— then tracing the outlines of his bellybutton, up to his chest and lastly— right below his chin and tilting his face upwards.
“What is it this time?” You questioned coldly, betraying your true emotions. “…I erm, god, c-could I get a little more ca-,,, pocket money?” His words were bitter, he felt uncomfortable muttering such things, be it due to shame or other reasons. “Didn’t you just got it last week?” He was dead silent, so quiet even, that he could hear the tapping of your finger on your knee. “I know- I just, I need it. Just a little bit, it’s not much to you anyway right?” How you adored that little tremble in his voice, he truly was tailored to fit your taste.
You sighed, acting all begrudgingly, “can’t you at least tell me why you need the cash?” Instead of answering, he just pleaded, “please, just a little more, I only need like 2k—!” You interrupted him by tapping his cheek with your shoe, chuckling in disbelief, “hah! A little? Sweetie, you think I’m a tree that grows money?” He was sweating a little, skin glistening under the low-saturated light of the lamp. “It means a lot to me, please… master?”
Would you look at that, now he’s using every trick in the book to try to win you over.
“That’s not enough to convince me~” you ended your sentence with a higher pitch, exposing yourself, giving him hints on what he should do. This was not the first time you’ve played this game with him, so luckily he still remembers your teachings. “I’ll do my best to persuade you then…” he whispered meekly, hands bawled into fists as he rests them on the ground, turning his face around a little to push your shoes to his lips.
With lingering skepticism, he stuck his tongue out, licking a long trail over the front of your footwear. The material was shining with his spit now, all clean and rid of any dust. The male grimaced silently, before swallowing the lump in his throat. You watched with preying eyes and a sadistic smirk, enjoying the show he was putting on for you. Next, he used the tip of his tongue to lick over the sides, trying hard to ignore the straight up awful taste of dirt. He didn’t even want to think about what exactly he was eating, squeezing his eyes shut, doing it with his intuition.
You helped him a little as well, moving your foot up and down to grant him easier access. A pool of arousal building in your stomach as you restrained your desire to be even more mean, to step and to kick him, to make him do even more nasty stuff— all that can wait. For now, you’ll focused on the appetiser.
Once he was done with polishing your shoes with his hot and wet muscle, he gulped down all the filth, pondering over whether or not this was enough. He didn’t need to think a lot, because you answered his confusions for him by pressing soles of your footgear against his face. “You aren’t done yet, pretty boy.” Shivers ran down his spine at the horrors and humiliation, though it turned into perverted lust in the matter of seconds. He had to take a few seconds to prepare himself mentally, but then he stuck his tongue out again.
He brought it across your soles once, licking all across the place. The taste of sand and was seems to be glass plagued his taste buds, and he gaged. Nonetheless, he managed to swallow it, at the price of feeling something coming up as he did. His cheeks darkened into a blush, droplets of sweat rolling down the sides of his forehead. You didn’t say much as you watched him with intense eyes. Even though he wasn’t looking up at you, he could still feel your gaze, and he shook slightly at the thought of that.
Many minutes passed, and the longer this went on, the more he became erect. Was it because of your watching gaze, piercing through his soul? Or was it due to his perverted nature, because he enjoyed the pain and humiliation? It was a question he didn’t want to answer, out of consideration for his remaining pride. The feeling of vomiting was tattering inside him, he felt a little nauseous as well, but he succeeded in pushing through it all, cleaning your shoes with great precision.
Soon, it was as clean as new.
At that point his tongue felt sore, and the sand was crunching between his teeth. Some tears were collecting in the corners of his eyes, all due to the overwhelmingly terrible taste. Finally, you talked again, he was starting to miss your voice, he desperately needed you to guide him through it all, to make him feel better. “Good job, you did so good, good boy.” You reached out to pat his head, stroking through his hair a little.
This gentleness was such a stark contrast to what happened only minuets before, that his entire body was shaken with pleasure. He couldn’t help but whine pathetically, bucking his hard on up against nothing. You didn’t even notice how he got hard, and how his pre was soaking through his pants already. Smiling all content, you pressed down on the tent with your now almost sparkling shoe, commenting, “such a dirty masochist, you enjoyed choking on the filthy that clung to my shoes? I guess that suits mutt like you.”
Again, he whined, bending forwards with his upper body, hands twitching to grab your ankle but he knew better than to act on his impulses. “Hnng.. y-yes.. I’m just a dirty mutt.” God, just look at how big your grin grew. “Well, but I can’t deny you did a great job. Fine I’ll give you 1K.” You then applied more pressure to his bulge, making him arch his back and moan out in blissful, ecstatic pain, “ahh-nHGHHh..!!??”
His eyes rolled to the back of his scull, drool running down his chin. This defiles form of his was more than depraved, it was sinful and degenerate. “To get to 2k… you’ll have to clean it again.” You stated, pressing down even more, causing him to cum into his pants. “HaaAaNNGghh…! Y/nnnNghh ♥︎♡~” He was already so worked up from before, and so sensitive due to your degration, please don’t blame him for cumming so fast…♡
Instead of being mad, you laughed, and brought your now in cum covered shoe to his lips again, tapping his flush lips. “So, get to work, pretty boy.”
He really needed the money after all, so he had no choice but to oblige, right? And it was surely sorely for the money ♥︎
Tumblr media
(Edit: don’t ask why I wrote this with Toji in mind, also with the reader being younger [to add more shame], but that’s for you to decide)
614 notes · View notes