#pregnancy and baby prompts

[emacrow]

Orphan's baby

Cass was in the middle of helping the Batfam along with Batman raids through the the hidden base they had found underground lab in an abandoned hospital messing with a neon verison of lararus pits liquid.

Red Robin had already adjacked the security and was going through the files with Spoiler. Nightwing and Red hood beating up the guards while batman was battling with the main boss behind it all.

She was with Robin as they were taking some samples and destroying the remaining ones.

She had already crack through most of seemingly important hidden rooms that seem to be hiding completely full with containers full of lararus pits with tags of PH4N70M, and a winter blue colored marble in a container sealed to the safe that was spelling out electricity every minute in the container.

It looked important, but why a marble..?

She broke the container holding the marble, taking most of the lararus pits containers as well while destroying the remaining unaware of the glow that pulsed in the marble.

By the time is was to retreat, everything was in the clear as Spoiler needed to unscramble hidden files that were behind multiples firewalls.

They were at the batcave when they were securing the containers of lararus pits for later sampling, only for the marble to be missing..?

She was sure that she place it in her bat waist pouch, but it wasn't there anymore..

Did she dropped it accidentally while collecting the containers of larausu pits?

It was already too late to check back now, so she decided not to tell anyone yet.

Until 2 months later, she started feeling downright sick nauseated. Right after Dinner of Alfred's infamous lasagna Tuesday, but.. it tasted a bland which was throwing her off completely.

She was only dropping down by the batcave to just self analysis herself.. only to stop walking half way the secure containement holding all the lararus pits that they brought back..

She couldn't stop herself from staring at it with vast hunger before the swirl of neon green filling her vision and blank her conscience out the window..

Only to wake up in her room on her bed, 3 empty containers with not a inch of lararus pits left inside as if it was wiped-or licked clean. She hide the containers under her bed and stood quiet later on as nobody had noticed yet what she had done.

She doesn't know what had happen, but the nausea and sick feeling went away as if nothing happen.

Hopefully it would be a one time thing...

Bruce and his long lines of lawyers had disbanded the GIW completely over the illegal experimentally on sentient aliens of another world which they tried to label them as ghosts until they tried to accused Superman of being one of them which quickly label their entire Government supported work as hate crime and was steady being searched, along finding a couple of missing traumatized teens, adults and children that had vanished the months before in the other hidden labs.

...

....

.....

She had her head in her hands as she silently groaned when she peak her eyes between her fingers to see several dozen empty containers and immediately close her eyes to try and pretend she didn't see them.

It only been 5 months since that incident and she had seemingly got away with it, but then nausea came back with vengeance like no other, and the increased appetite was new, but yet it didn't filled her belly with the bland taste or satisfaction even though she did felt a bit feint during the couple of night patrols despise feeling energized earlier.

Something was wrong and she know it as she went to the only person who could help her right now.

She went to Alfred straight away silently explaining the situation going on because she honestly have no idea was going on with her and she know she loves his food, and the feint spells, and the monsterous appetite and the insatiable need to swallow a crapton of lararus pits with twelve milkshakes and fourteen bags full bat burgers.

Alfred could only stared with his eyebrows raising slowly with every word spilling out of her mouth.

Alfred helped her get examined in the batcave medbay, and 2 hours later the blood result came in.

Case was pregnant, but It was a almost cryptic pregnancy.

Alfred didn't had the equipment out for a ultrasound at all yet, but from he know from Cass it was during the Raiding of that hidden lab and her being in contacted with this 'marble' that seemingly disappeared after she grabbed it.

That was 7 months ago, but luckily Alfred caught it in time before it literally became a cryptic pregnancy.

Oh the ultrasounds pics of the little baby fetus with his fast beating lil heart beating were precious as he got tiny misty eyes a bit compare to Cass's awestruck look staring at the screen then back at her belly.

He does help get extra vitamins pills, and call her off of Crime duty until further noticed . Bruce on the otherhand was concerned but all he got from Alfred was the You Better not investigate this because I have major blackmail of embarrassing toddler photos against you.

This is Alfred moment that he been waiting for since Bruce became a new adult but not yet sired a baby at the Wayne Manor at all. He is savoring this for the memories and scapebooking time. He is cranking opened that forgotten but clean baby nursery of forlorning hopes.

2 months later, By the time Cass was ready to deliver the baby on February 11, and at February 12th, 12:01am.

Wren Alf Cain was born premature yet crying softly into the word.

[whenuwishuponastar]

I need more perryshmirtz fanfics from Perry's POV where he's always thinking "how can anyone think this man is evil?? Look at him, he’s a wet cat"

I also need more fanfics with the tag "accidental baby acquisition", I just love reading father Heinz Doofenshmirtz in action, Vanessa being a big sister and Perry being a simp (someone at OWCA leaves an "Im not the stepdad Im the dad that stepped up" mug at Perry's desk)

[the-one-who-lambs]

[aloysiavirgata]

drabble - Scully rejects every baby name on Mulder’s list, except for a surprising last dark horse

“Are you kidding?”

He frowns. “It’s a good list!”

She scoffs. “Calliope? Wilhelmina? Cressida? LEOCADIA?”

Mulder sniffs, offended. “Leo is a cute nickname for a girl.”

“Firstly, no. Second of all…Mulder, I don’t even HAVE a second of all. Of the thousands of names out there you’ve brought Demelza.”

He scowls. “Fine. We can name her Nevaeh.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” She scans the list again. “Matilda,” she muses.

Mulder perks up. “Empress Matilda was a certified badass.”

“She was. It’s very pretty. Tillie, Tilda…”

“Tilda Swinton is very cool,” he says, encouragingly.

Scully nods, thoughtful. She pats her belly. “Matilda.”

[zerogravityinq]

Ever see those posts about women having massive babies because their husbands are huge like Hawaiin/secretly Shaquille o neal?. No? Am I the only one who gets all the baby content despite being child free???

ANYWAY I feel like no one talks about the potential of any bio kid of Bruce being massive. Like yeah Bruce is normal sized and so is Damian/Helena/Terry but like what if they weren't? Thomas Wayne was a big dude and he wasn't even a fighter!

Can you imagine Martha carting around 4 month old Bruce who is somehow the size of a 3 year old and she just narrows her eyes at Thomas like this is your fault and Thomas just shrugs because Wayne men are just Like That™

Fast forward to Talia who sees Damian's projected growth and size and is like 'you want me to carry what???? Where?????' and like immediately sets up for him to be a test tube baby cuz ain't no way.

Diana (in that weird timeline where Bruce and Diana have a kid) thinks nothing of it and just has the baby. Both her and Bruce are warriors so naturally their child would be sturdy.

Selina bitches at Bruce every chance she gets because the fuck you mean her toddler is 4 but Helena looks like she in the senior year of high school and the star quarterback???

Terry McGinnis' mom immediately know that something is off because her husband isn't built like that and she has seen baby pictures of him and he wasn't this absolute unit at the age of 42 weeks.

Not that any of them are like fat, just dense and grows fast. Cute babies but tf u mean they are not a year yet and look like a full sized toddler???

[dead-tree-tattoo-artist]

Slade Wilson AU

So I have an Omegaverse AU that I’m working on for a bunch of DC characters. I also have an AU where Slade is an Atlantean, and I decided to combine them, so Slade is now an Omega Atlantean. The baby is Grant.

I’m going to do a background, but I don’t know if it will be good so I’m posting a wip.

Follows MayTernity prompts 3: masc; 15: swimming; 23: fantasy au; 24: monster preg

Follows MerMay prompts 18: smol; 27: honor

Base from @ilitiaforever

@seahorse-collective

[nohoney]

sometimes i like to think abt accidentally getting knocked up by touya and he immediately expresses distain for having a child and you understand, but you’ve always wanted a child. so you part ways without a grudge and have the baby and then you bump into touya at the market with his baby on your hip and he can’t help how his heart picks up at the sight of you holding his kid

imagine that you and him were just a random tinder match with one another, both with the agreement to have just some no strings attached fun. while there wasn’t a relationship per se, you and him get close enough to know what you want in the future; you want a family and he doesn’t.

and you didn’t plan to have that family for a while of course, but next thing you know there’s two positive pregnancy tests sitting in your bathroom. touya notices that you kinda withdraw for a bit, occasionally checking in but doesn’t necessarily go out of his way since you’re not his girlfriend. after some time mulling it over, you decide to break the news. he’s not happy and well… you’re uncomfortable.

you decided to keep it.

to be honest you weren’t going to expect him to take responsibility because in the end, you and touya do not know each other well enough to rely on one another. even discussing an attempt at the possibility of co-parenting with him ends in this stalemate. you don’t want to be locked in baby daddy drama either so you decide for him; you’re having this baby without him.

it’s not a guilt trip or anything to make him concede to you, no chasing after for child support from him or expecting anything else. touya does not want to be a father but you are already a mother.

in front of one another, the two of you delete each other’s information from your phones along with any evidence of the two of you together which really only consisted of your text chain and the occasional nude. he tells you good luck and you bid him goodbye.

you have a healthy baby boy, taking more after you in his looks but he has his father’s eyes. after delivering, you can’t help but let your mind wander to touya and wonder what he’s up to. you don’t get to dwell long though because your baby starts crying in his crib and now motherhood truly begins for you.

on a summer day when your son is just a little over a year old, you carry him on your hip as you walk through a market. you were just passing on through to buy a birthday card and then needing to drop off your son at your mother’s house before heading over to your friend’s birthday party. you talk to your son, acting like he’s apart of the card decision making, picking one up to present to him and laughing when he smacks it away.

you don’t notice touya at the very end of aisle, having recognized your voice as he passed by and doing a double take when he realizes it’s you. he hides himself a little, peeking his eye around the corner. you still rock a summer dress very well, even after having a baby, after having his baby. he observes quietly, wondering at all if it was appropriate to make himself known to you. from afar, touya sees that your son resembles more you than him but he wonder if that kid will grow up to be a little stinker like he was when he was a brat.

your son holds tightly to a card you hand him and you praise him for choosing the right one for his auntie. you adjust him on your hip and start to walk towards the self checkout aisle. touya sees his son’s face, gets a glimpse of turquoise blue that he inherited from his father and is passed down to your kid. and really he should keep his distance, let you go on about your day and he should go on with his.

and yet he follows in your direction, leaving behind his basket, and he’s tapping your shoulder before he can even think twice about it. “hey (name)…”

“oh… touya?”

[mammalsofaction]

He doesn't touch the stick.

He leaves in to stew in the sink as he sits hunched over the toilet, with the lid closed. He wants it to think about what it's done. It's dead silent in the bath, save for the rapid-rhythmic tap-tap-tap of his heels against the light green bathroom tiles. He has his lips pursed thinly and pressed against his hands steepled in thought. Thinking, spiralling, catastrophizing. He was too old for this. Why was he feeling this way? God knows this isn't even his first turn around the rodeo. He's probably mixing his metaphors.

He lets himself think about semi-phones and allegories as he brings himself to his feet again, so he can stare down the bowl of the sink, where he'd last dropped the recalcritant stick and it's damning results, staring up at him like a starving stray.

Heinz looks down, and stares, he doesn't touch it. It's damned little digital screen does not change. Simple black pixels on a backlit screen the colour of parchment.

Pregnant.

Heinz inhales deeply, and hunches further, metal fingers curling around the edges of the sink bowl. Suddenly he was all of 30 again, unmated and unwed, breaking down in the cramped bathroom of a ramshackle studio apartment in downtown Danville he rents with the money he barely earns from a failing bratwurst stand.

Pregnant with his best friend's baby. Jesus christ. He was too old to make the same mistakes, yet here he was now.

And he had no reason to believe it was going to turn out as well now as it had then.

[pynkhues]

just came out if loustat ao3 tag... maaaaan it does look bleak for bottom lestat enjoyers. my feed is literally just "bottom louis bottom louis feminization mpreg abo bottom louis"... and so on ad nauseam

sophie you are my only hope :')

It's certainly a fandom with preferences, haha

[peaches2217]

♥ do you still got more expectant mareach headcanons?

...how many do you want, Anon? Because I have an entire tome's worth of them.

♥ - Family headcanon (Brainrot Edition!)

Peach becomes incredibly emotional starting around her second trimester. Her lifetime of royal training ensures she maintains a proper and dignified public appearance, but when she's not in public? Expect her to start crying with little provocation. The chefs prepared her favorite dessert for tonight's dinner? Tears. Toadette brings her a glass of water just as she notices her throat's getting dry? Tears. Mario calls her Peach instead of amore/tesoro/amata/cara/dolcezza/principessa? Tears. Eventually no one bothers asking why she's crying unless she's in obvious distress, they just keep a few tissues on hand at all times and let her cry it out, and then she’s good to go.

It should go without saying that Mario's protective nature increases tenfold during this time too. It's a nearly year-long period where he really doesn't even leave the castle grounds unless Peach is by his side. His reasoning is as rational (it's important that she doesn't push herself for the sake of their child's health, so if she starts feeling unwell or needs to rest he can step in for her at a moment's notice) as it is emotional (he will literally get sick to his stomach if he feels like he's strayed too far from her and nothing will right that feeling except for laying eyes on her and seeing for himself that she's safe). It's easy to poke fun at Peach for getting so emotional, but frankly, Mario's emotions get heightened just as much.

While we're talking heightened emotions, one day Peach is lying in bed, resting off a particularly bad case of morning sickness, and Toadsworth brings her some soothing tea. Being tired and nauseous and a tiny bit delirious, she responds with a soft and quiet "Thank you, papa."

It's the first time she's ever called him that. Cue the manliest, most hysterical tears in the history of Toadkind.

[onlygenxhere]

since the juke baby prompts have been tugging at my heartstrings… “Luke, are you not nervous to see how she will handle having to share you with her baby sister?” ✨💫

“Luke, aren’t you nervous to see how she’ll handle having to share you with her baby sister?” Julie whispered as she leaned over the back of the couch looking down at her husband with their four year old sound asleep on his chest.

He bit his lip as he gazed up at her looking guilty for letting Violet fall asleep on him for the second time this week. “It was nearly a year before this one wanted much to do with me.” He ran his fingers gently through her light brown curls. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one that’s going to be feeling left out.”

Julie reached down and ran her fingers through Luke’s hair much like he was their daughters’. “You’ll only be a little left out till I’m not a walking slurpee machine again.”

He chuckled.

They both froze as Violet stirred for a moment before burying her head back under Luke’s chin.

Julie shook her head smiling at her little family before standing up and stretching her back, her large pregnant belly protruding over the back of the sofa.

Luke reached up and placed his hand on her belly as she covered it with her own.

“Violet is just as excited to meet her baby sister as I am.” He looked up at Julie with so much love it brought tears to her eyes. “We’ll still have time for this.” He kissed the top of their daughter’s head. “I’m not worried about it at all.”

The baby in her belly kicked their hands and Julie smiled. “You’re right. I’m worrying about nothing.” She picked his hand up and leaned down to kiss his knuckles. “Go put our daughter to bed and come sleep with me.”

He pulled her hand to his own lips and kissed her ring finger right over her wedding band, “Sure thing boss.”

[quietwingsinthesky]

If you're still doing the drabble thing, could you write some Michifer mpreg fluff/fix it. Like Michael's pov on Lucifer being pregnant and coming to terms with it and what it means for their relationship? No pressure though, sorry if this seems pushy

Anon, dear anon, not only is it not pushy at all, it is encouraged! Prompts do make the world go round.

Fic can be found here on AO3 for reading convenience and is also right below.

Their actions in the Cage weren’t supposed to have consequences. When there was no escape from the pit, no meaningful passage of time in eternity, no outside eyes peering in on them, how were they supposed to remain as they fell, estranged and furious? They fought for a very long time, and ignored each other for longer, and finally, wove grace through grace in profound intimacy. Michael could have stayed like that forever. He had his other half back, and that was all that mattered.

A seed was planted, but in Hell’s stasis, it laid inert.

It’s Raphael who eventually frees them. Michael doesn’t know the details because they don’t want to talk about it, but he gathers that they hoped they would find something more behind the bars than two brothers reconciled. When they don’t, it’s the straw on the camel’s back, and Raphael finally abandons their post. Michael tries not to hold their distance against them. If anyone deserves a break from serving Heaven, it’s Raphael.

That leaves him and Lucifer alone together. Michael could return to Heaven. In duty’s name, maybe he should.

He’s not going to. He did everything right, and nothing went as it was supposed to. In his mind, he’s no longer under any obligations, and if their Father takes issue with it, He can come down to the cabin Michael and Lucifer call home and order Michael back to Heaven Himself. His Father’s absence is a strange kind of security.

Lucifer wanted someplace remote. Michael had no arguments. Neither of them would have been very good at living among humans even before their extended stint in isolation. This way, they can go out and watch people like they’re birds, memorizing patterns of behavior and noting to each other the different kinds they see, and then have a safe home to return to once they get too overwhelmed. Quiet walls, and warm air, and a comfortable bed to nest in together – it’s all Michael could have dreamed of when Lucifer tucks himself under Michael’s wing and refuses to budge for hours, soaking up all of his brother’s affection.

Until the day Lucifer suddenly begins to pull away.

It starts with a dropped plate.

Lucifer won’t abide a dirty home. It’s a quirk of his that Michael finds both endearing and saddening. It’s not the mess Lucifer has a problem with. He loves sticking his hands in the dirt in the garden he’s made for them, and he had fun during the process of painting their new home, getting covered in different shades of emerald and lavender and a dozen others that Michael couldn’t leave behind once he’d sampled their colors at the store. But the rooms of the cabin are all spotless, and their clothes are all well-washed, and Lucifer makes sure the plates are all clean by hand.

Michael does his own share of the cleaning, but when Lucifer is in the middle of it, he doesn’t want help. (Or, at least, he doesn’t want Michael’s.) Instead, Michael contents himself with watching his brother. Lucifer is very expressive through his vessel in a way Michael can’t get the hang of, and it’s interesting to watch the way his eyes and mouth move minutely to accompany his thoughts.

Before it happens, Michael notes a shift at the corner of Lucifer’s mouth that comes with him biting the inside of his cheek, a slight furrow between his brows joined by a lowering of his eyelids, and then a full reversal of both, widened eyes and mouth falling open. And that is when the plate drops and cracks Michael out of his observations.

Michael is at Lucifer’s side in a moment. Ceramic bites into his sole, and he jolts at the feeling of it. It doesn’t hurt, but he doesn’t enjoy the feeling of a foreign object invading his vessel’s flesh. He puts it aside to touch Lucifer’s hands. There’s a tremble, soft as a moth’s wing and gone the moment Michael is holding him. Lucifer exhales.

”What’s wrong?” Michael asks. “What upset you?” Was it me? He never asks that. He knows he should, but he doesn’t think he could stand to hear Lucifer say yes.

Lucifer’s hands clench under his own. “I’m not upset.”

“But you-“

”I’m not upset,” Lucifer insists. That tone frustrates Michael. It’s a barrier between them, and after thousands of years apart, Michael should be used to not knowing every corner of his brother’s heart. Somehow, being shut out still hurts. Lucifer looks down at their feet. “You know you’re standing on the shards, don’t you?” Michael is about to reprimand him for trying to change the subject, but then he shifts his weight and sends the ceramic cutting further into his foot. He cringes. Lucifer moves his hands out of Michael’s grip, and before Michael can react, they end up at his waist. Lucifer hauls him up and onto the counter.

”The fact that you can toss my vessel around doesn’t mean you should,” Michael mutters, and Lucifer ignores him, lifting Michael’s foot to deftly pull the shard out himself. Michael winces again at the drag on his flesh.

“Where’s your pain tolerance, brother? Did you get soft hiding out in Heaven?” Lucifer teases, and even as Michael scowls, he presses a kiss to Michael’s mouth. Lucifer delights in pointing out any little wince on Michael’s part since Michael let Castiel light him on fire. Lucifer is going to hold that over his head forever.

He’s very good at getting on Michael’s nerves. Good enough that Michael forgets entirely why he was worried enough about Lucifer to come over in the first place. For now.

Lucifer continues to pull away. Michael will never believe he's made up for what he did to his brother, but he had thought that they'd gotten past the worst of their anger in the Cage. He doesn't understand why Lucifer keeps him at a distance now. He shrinks from Michael's grace and won't snuggle under his wings and every conversation they share is either terse and cut off quickly or turned on its head by Lucifer annoying Michael until he abandons whatever line of questioning he mustered up. He can't help but feel like he's failing Lucifer somehow, as though this is some test of Michael’s love. It gets under his skin, gnawing away at their domestic life. He can't even apologize because he has no idea what to apologize for. Is this a remnant of the trauma the Cage inflicted on Lucifer, or is it a more recent misstep that Michael doesn't even know about?

Worse is when Michael recognizes that there is something wrong with Lucifer’s grace. He can’t tell what it is, not when Lucifer won’t let him close enough, but if there’s only one thing Michael knows, it’s the energy that makes up his brother’s true form. There’s no mistaking the change, no matter how subtle the shifts are at first, the redirecting of power, the sudden guarded force around parts of Lucifer’s grace that aren’t usually vulnerable.

Michael gets more and more concerned as the days go by. He tries to broach the subject, clumsily, and gets shut down by a dismissive, “I’m fine, Michael. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lucifer only becomes more withdrawn after that.

In the end, he goes looking for help from his other reticent sibling. It takes a little while to find Raphael and longer to convince them to talk to him.

”I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t an emergency,” Michael tells them. Raphael is half-burrowed in the Antarctic snow, giving more attention to the gaggle of penguins they’re watching exchange stones than to Michael. Michael sighs and takes a seat beside them, getting his out-of-place jeans wet. “There’s something wrong with Lucifer.” Raphael snorts. There’s a definite air of ‘why are you telling me this’ to the noise.

It occurs to Michael that he doesn’t have that many friends.

”Raphael, please,” he persists, “I think he might be hurt. He won’t let me help him.”

”And he’d let me?” Raphael squirms deeper into the snow. Michael wonders what the point of that is. The penguins can clearly see him and aren’t bothered by his presence, so there’s no reason Raphael has to hide.

“You’re the reason we’re here at all,” Michael says. He looks down at Raphael and then moves to lay on his stomach with them in the snow. He can feel how cold it is against his vessel’s skin, frostbite beaten off by the heat of Michael’s grace. His shirt gets soaked as well. He watches the penguins stride about in pairs, and single ones honk with delight when they find another who will accept a gifted stone and join them. Raphael stays quiet beside him.

Snow glides down onto Michael’s hair. He pillows his chin on his arms. Aside from the sounds of the penguins and the wind, it’s very calm.

“I’ll leave you be.” Raphael rolls their shoulders, disturbing the snow that has gathered there. “I can’t order you to do this, and I don’t want to.”

”Wait.” A single, quiet command. Michael stays where he is. The two of them watch as the penguins waddle off and gather more stones, building nests together started with those first gifts. It takes a few hours for every nest to be built to the satisfaction of the birds. Only when the last of them has settled down does Raphael finally sit up. Michael rolls onto his back, feeling far less riddled with anxiety. “Okay. Now, we can go check on our brother.”

Raphael pauses at the garden when they land outside Michael and Lucifer’s cabin. Their eyes pass over the well-tended to flowers, especially the roses the climb protectively around the front door. There’s a question in their eyes that they keep behind their lips, passing Michael when he opens the door for them.

Michael can hear Lucifer singing, an echo that bounces back and forth between rooms just to reach him and let him know Lucifer is happy. He’ll stop singing the moment he realizes either of them are there, but one day, Michael hopes, that won’t be true. He leads Raphael in further, feet sinking into the fluffy, warm carpet that welcomes him home, and up the stairs to the bedroom nest that he and Lucifer share. Lucifer has stopped now.

“You’re dripping all over the floor,” Lucifer tells Michael as he enters the bedroom. He’s lounging, relaxed, arms crossed over his stomach. He doesn’t even lift his head, not until Raphael follows Michael in. The change is jarring. The minute Lucifer realizes they’re both there, between him and the exit, he tenses up, suspicious eyes locked on them.

Michael tries to disarm his worry, looking down at the small puddle he’s standing in like he has no idea how it got there, despite it being very obvious from the snow melting on the back of his jacket collar.

”Sorry about the mess,” he says. Lucifer’s sits up, eyes flicking between him and Raphael. If he flies off, that’s going to make things much more difficult. Raphael steps around Michael. They’re peering very intensely at Lucifer, and it isn’t helping him to relax any easier.

The stare down carries on far longer than it should.

”How did you-“ Raphael sounds bewildered.

”Raphael.” Lucifer’s voice is tight.

“What is it?” Raphael looks over at Michael, opens their mouth, and then shuts it again with another glance at Lucifer. Michael feels panic begin to rise in him again. What could be so horrible that Lucifer needs Raphael to hide it? He jumps to the worst conclusion. “Are you dying?” All Michael can think is that it’s a punishment for them daring to step out of their roles, Lucifer’s bid for autonomy and Michael’s brother stolen away all in one fell swoop, as cruel a lesson as could be. Lucifer looks shocked at the suggestion.

”He’s not dying,” Raphael says. They turn to Lucifer again, frowning. “You have to tell him.”

”I don’t have to do anything.” Lucifer crosses his arms more tightly and curls in on himself. His grace mimics the posture like he’s protecting something.

”I’m not doing it for you. This is between the two of you.” Raphael goes to leave them. Michael is about to stop them and demand an explanation when they stall by the door. They look back at Lucifer. There’s something softer behind their eyes. Michael has missed it. “I’m happy for you, brother.”

Lucifer’s mouth twists. Raphael sighs. Before their foot hits the floor on the other side of the doorway, they’re gone. Michael has no idea where they’ll go now, back to huddle in the snow or to warmer climates. He hopes it won’t be months until he sees them again this time.

For now, he has another problem to solve. Lucifer won’t meet his eyes.

”It is something I did, isn’t it?” Michael asks. It’s the only reason he has left why Lucifer might be hiding whatever this is from him. To his surprise, Lucifer chuckles without a smile to accompany it.

“Something you did to me, yes.” Michael’s chest clenches, and he swallows down his grief, pushing through to know how he’s hurt his brother now.

”What?” He steps towards Lucifer, knowing he should keep his distance but unable to prevent himself from wanting to comfort him. Lucifer studies him.

“How long is this going to last, Michael?” he asks, and he sounds tired. Michael doesn’t understand, and so, without an answer, Lucifer continues, “when are you going to stop choosing me? Will I even get a warning before you decide to abandon me?” Michael’s attempts to stay back fail completely, and he crawls onto the bed with Lucifer. Lucifer doesn’t flinch away from him as Michael takes his hands and lifts them to his mouth, kissing along his knuckles.

“I’m never going to leave you,” Michael promises.

He can’t blame Lucifer for his doubt. Michael has never said those words out loud before. They’re true. He watches Lucifer’s face.

His frown softens. His eyes widen. His whole face transforms from guarded to open and vulnerable. Michael places a hand against Lucifer’s cheek.

”Nothing will change my mind. No one could.” Lucifer covers Michael’s hand with his own, clutching it close. He shuts his eyes for a moment to regain his composure.

Slowly, he draws both hands down from his face. Michael lets him. Lucifer’s grace unfurls beneath his own, barriers falling to let Michael in once more. Michael peers at his brother’s true form as his palm is pressed against Lucifer’s belly. He’s not sure what he’s seeing, what he’s feeling, until Lucifer drops the last walls that keep Michael’s grace out and-

Oh.

Michael is frozen in shock. There’s a connection to his own grace that Lucifer has been hiding from him, and across it he knows that they are creating something. That should be impossible. Angels may revive and change and even, as Lucifer proved so long ago, corrupt what is already there, but they cannot create anything new.

Lucifer cradles that impossible bloom of new grace, drawing their life from both archangels.

”We have a child,” Michael breathes. The connection to his grace isn’t a conscious one yet, but he can feel the little light within Lucifer growing, changing, becoming.

No wonder Lucifer hid this from him. He had to be sure Michael would stay to nurture their child. As if Michael could ever leave them.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Lucifer asks, and Michael can see the way he’s devoted so much of his grace to keeping the child safe and helping them to grow. Without a doubt, Lucifer wants this.

“Yes,” Michael agrees. He kisses Lucifer, wrapping his wings around both of their true forms and around their little angel. He knows that the baby’s grace cannot understand it yet, but he sends love through their connection. He will never let them feel abandoned.

[flowers-shouldnt-die]

So um saw that prompt about Tissaia getting pregnant because by the show's logic she still has her reproductive organs. I’m not going to hijack that Yennaia post because it was very sweet but i've been thinking about her having a baby before because she deserves some happiness. But I also love hurt/no or minimal comfort. So I’m just running with the idea of her getting pregnant. What if like before the coup she got pregnant by Vilgefortz, maybe by accident, maybe he canonically already has a weird obsession with pregnancies and specifically placentas. Who knows. If this happens around the coup, it would be just another stab in the heart for her BUT maybe she wouldn’t or couldn’t kill herself because of the baby.

[thewritersaddictions]

Requests: The Adults: Eddie Munson- PlayMates

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham

Pov: Chrissy Cunningham

Warnings: Pregnant Chrissy, D&D terms, building a character for Charlotte, animated Eddie!DAD, in love, and admiration, Charlotte is indeed for father's daughter.

Summary: Eddie decides to teach Charlotte D&D, and Chrissy watches her warm family.

A/n- @ Firefly- graphics for dividers, This is a request and a part of the collection of COEC.

WC- 1.7k

Requests Master List // Stranger Things Master List // The Adults Master List // Chronicles of Eddie M. & Chrissy C. Master List

I had made dinner earlier that night, and we had eaten together as a family. Eddie and Charlotte sat close together; well, actually, Char sat in Eddie’s lap, and I sat just a few feet away from them at the dinner table. “Dinner is amazing, sweetheart,” Eddie said as he picked at a piece of his chicken. Charlotte is a spitting image of Eddie; the black hair that’s curly at the ends and those blue eyes were the only thing that gave away she was even remotely related to me. 

When dinner was over, Eddie ushered me out of the kitchen with a large hand on my back. “You go sit down, honey.” He said, gently guiding me towards the couch. He watched as I followed his instructions before grabbing a book off the shelf next to the TV stand.  “You just sit out here and read while Char and I clean up the kitchen,” Eddie says as he leans down to kiss my forehead chaste. 

“Alright, Char, are you ready to help me clean up?” I hear Eddie ask here just a few moments later. I hear the giggles echo off the wall as Char answers her father. The sound of water and music becomes the background noise of the story I’m reading. The sound of dishes colliding with each other. “Bubbles!” I hear a scream from the kitchen, “I know, Char, you like bubbles, baby.” Eddie all but laughs. I return my attention to my book. The words are starting to mold together for whatever reason. I can’t just put the book down and climb the stairs toward a comfy bed. 

The sound of low Metallica plays in the kitchen as my legs lie folded underneath my body, and the book in my hand starts to drop. That is until I feel the sudden kick against my pregnant belly. Charlotte would have a little brother pretty soon, so Eddie was trying his most challenging to spend all his time with her. Before, things became hectic, and with that, it led to many nights like this one. 

“Daddy?” I barely hear Char’s voice from the living room to the kitchen. “Yes, baby,” Eddie says sweetly to his three-year-old daughter. “What’s wrong with mommy?” I hear Charlotte ask her father, and there is a moment of silence between the two, and I know the look on Eddie's face. The one who tells me he has no clue what to say next. Eddie is a man of all sorts of words, but whenever his daughter asks him questions he doesn’t have answers to, he doesn’t have it in him to lie to his baby girl. 

“Come on, baby, let’s sit at the table.” I hear a nimble voice utter to our daughter. I can listen to the giant footsteps against the hardwood. Then, the scooting of the chair legs on the hardwood floor, I grit my teeth together; the sound sends the worst shivers down my spine. Like nails on a chalkboard. “Mommy is just feeling a little tired nowadays.” Eddie finally clarifies. “Is it because of my brother?” Charlotte is always inquisitive and alert to the world around her, especially for her age. Eddie’s laugh echoes into the living room, then it becomes silent. “Yeah, baby, your brother isn’t being very nice to your mommy,” Eddie tells our daughter. 

“Well, he better be nice to my mommy because… well, because I love her…” My heart swells at Char’s confession, and it triples when Eddie echoes her words. “I love her too.” There are sounds of giggles that last for longer than it takes for me to read a full page of the book in my lap. “What are you doing daddy?” I get distracted once more by the sounds of my daughter annoying her father with her endless questions. “Aren’t you supposed to be coloring?” Eddie says, asking her a question of his own. It’s meant to redirect her, but because she likes her father, it only spurs her on to push more of his buttons. “I would be coloring, Daddy, but you’re thinking too loud.” I burst out into laughs, unable to keep them in my chest. “I hear you out there laughing,” Eddie yells from the other rooms. 

My cheeks hurt by the time I can even think about anything else. Then, another kick brings me back to my reality. “Jesus, you just had to kick me,” I mutter. I put a bookmark between the pages of my book before pushing myself off the couch and to my feet. I shuffle to the bathroom down the hall like a penguin. I can’t hear the two in the kitchen as I shuffle my pajama pants down my hips and relieve myself. 

As I wash my hands, I notice how tired I am; the dark circles under my eyes are darker than ever. And my hair is tangled in blonde messes. I quickly push away nasty thoughts about myself as I finish washing my hands and return to the hallway. The sounds are different as I walk down the hallway. “Daddy…” “Yes, honey.” Eddie echos Charlotte’s whine. “What are you doing?” Her question is funny, very much like her father. 

Eddie had always feared that he would be like his father, yet he’s so far from it now. Never gets mad or annoyed with his daughter or me. He’s always there lending a helpful hand, helping me with something, or sitting through his daughter’s endless tea parties. Where she forces him to wear crowns and pink tutus. The smile on Eddie’s face is a lighting path, a true sign that he’s nothing like his father. 

“I’m coming up with things for my campaign.” His answers sometimes are very… very straightforward. “What’s that?” She asks curiously. I round the corner where the kitchen and living room met. Just around the wall is the dining room, where the chatter gets louder. “Well, sweetheart, it’s a game that daddy plays with his friends. With princes, and warriors, and fairies.” I smile at his words. Laced in sugar for his daughter to be able to understand. “Can I be a fairy?” Of course, that’s Charlotte’s first question, unbothered by anything else her father just said. I feel that will be a recurring in their relationship. 

A long pause makes me stop walking to hide behind the wall to the dining room door frame. Neither of them can see me, but I can see both of them. Eddie’s got his thinkin’ hat on right now. “Hmm, I don’t see why not. Come here, baby.” Eddie says, dropping the pencil on the table. “Can you grab me those books over there?” Eddie asks Char, but her eyes go wide. “I’ll do it, baby.” I was unable to keep my mouth quiet. His brows sink on his face, “I thought I told you too…” “I had to pee, so I’m up now. Deal with it, Eds.” I bark at him as I round the table and grab two thick books and a few sheets of blank paper. 

He sighs but doesn’t say anything as I sit beside him. “Are you okay, mommy?” Char asks me. I nod, and Eddie grabs her by the waist hoisting her up to his lap. “Are you ready, baby,” Eddie asks Char as her legs sit over just one of Eddie’s legs. “So you wanna be a fairy, right Char?” Eddie asks; she nods her head with excitement. “Did you hear that, mommy? Daddy said I can be a fairy?” Her smile beams across the dining room. “I heard him baby. You can be whatever your heart wants to be.” I tell her, scooting closer to comb my fingers through her black locks and kiss her forehead. 

“Alright, so, we don’t gotta pick a race. But we have to do some other stuff.” Eddie floods the books, and his words gloss over my head and Char’s. Regardless, we are watching him geek out about his daughter’s interest in his world. The world that had kept him safe until I met him. It brings me to a lull. I rest my hands on my protruding belly, and rest my eyes. Eddie’s deep voice and Char’s giggles lulled me to sleep. It feels like hours before the sounds stop, and everything is quiet. A sizeable gentle hand is on my shoulder. Shaking me awake gently, “Both my girls fell asleep on me.” Eddie whispers. The lights are dimmed, and Char isn’t in the room. Eddie seems to follow my thoughts. “Already in bed.” He answers my racing mom’s thoughts. “Let’s go to bed,” Eddie whispers again, putting a hand out for me to grab on. He pulls me up, and we walk hand in hand to the bedroom. 

Eddie walks me to my side of the bed. “Thank you, honey.” I manage to get out before a yawn cuts me off. I can see the slightest smile on his face. “It’s my pleasure, my love.” Eddie leans down and presses a chaste kiss into my forehead and another one on my lips, and instantly, I’m brought to life wanting more, but Eddie’s already dragging away from me. “You know how much Char loves you, right?” I say as Eddie bends down at his knee to slip my shoes off my swollen feet. He nods and continues to work on my slippers. “I’m serious, Eddie, she loves you so much. She doesn’t care as long as she can always be right by your side. She’s a daddy’s girl.” The tears that I didn’t notice rolled down my cheeks. “Aww baby,” Eddie says, looking up to see my tears, rubbing a large thumb over them and sweeping them away. 

“I know she loves me, baby; I know many things. Just like I know how much you love the both of us. That’s why you’re always watching us from afar. I love you just as much. Like I said earlier, baby. You are my girls, and I love my girls. I smile at Eddie’s confession. The words melted my heart and caused a wave of tiredness to wash over me. “Let’s get you to bed, baby,” Eddie mutters as he kicks back the sheets and pulls me against him.

Completed on: 08/29/23

Posted on: 08/31/23

COEC- @borhapgirlforlife19 @yourfavdummy

[gloomwitchwrites]

Oh please, please, please something short, funny with 141 where their wife calls them on their way home from work “yea, I think I’m having contractions!” And by the time they rush home, she’s sitting in the bath tub with their new baby. And she’s all casual like ‘Hey! Look at this cool thing I’ve got!’ And it’s their baby.

(My Grandmother had this happen! Each kid under an hour. My grandfather nearly had a heart attack! He’d always hesitate to leave her alone. Suspicious she was ‘purposefully’ going into labor when he wasn’t there to help her. Lol…)

Okay, that is so funny and adorable! Hehe, omg, I love this. Dad!141 is my favorite. I love writing them as fathers or as potential fathers. And this prompt is just an excuse to do that! Thank you so much for sending it in. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): married life, pregnancy, childbirth, domestic fluff, swearing, humor

Word Count: 2.1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

Price rubs at his temple, releasing a deep sigh.

It’s late. The base is nearly empty. Another late night filled with paperwork.

His phone buzzes, the cellular device vibrating on the desk. Price reaches for it, checking the screen. It’s you calling him, and his stomach flips.

“Cabbage,” he greets with a smile, answering the phone.

You’re pregnant, due date just a week or two away. Price doesn’t like leaving you home alone, but this is the last push. After tonight, he can come home early.

“John?”

His name is a question. There’s a hint of worry—of nervousness—and Price immediately picks up on it.

“Everything okay, love?” he asks, slowly standing, paperwork suddenly forgotten.

“John. I—I think—”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m having contractions.”

By the time the words leave your mouth, Price is already grabbing his coat. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.” He swallows, pushing down his own anxiety, smothering it so he can be strong for you. “Stay on the phone with me. I’m coming home.”

On the other end of the line, you breathe heavily. Each whimper worries him.

“John,” you gasp, voice strangled as he throws himself into his car and turns it on.

 “I know. I know. I’m coming.”

Price is doing his best to stay calm, to stay alert as he drives off base and heads for home, but all he can focus is on you.

“Keep talking to me, love,” he says, attempting to sound encouraging.

“Okay,” you reply, but then go quiet.

 “Cabbage?”

When you don’t answer him, Price uses your name. Nothing. No sound at all as if the line’s gone dead.

“Shit,” he mutters, holding the phone out to check.

Call Dropped.

“Fucking shit,” he says, louder.

Price continues to dial—continues to call. Every time, he expects you to pick up, but you never do. The worry grows, becoming deafening as the seconds tick by. Traffic laws are broken, but it gets him home faster.

He’s throwing himself out of the car, dashing to the house, not caring if he forgot to put the vehicle in park. In the front entryway, he calls out to you, using your name.

There is no response.

 “Fuck,” he whispers as he dashes up the stairs, heading for the bedroom. He enters, and it’s—

Empty.

“Where are you?” he breathes, turning away to check the rest of the house.

But then Price hears your voice, soft and soothing. Frowning, he checks the bedroom again, only to head toward the bathroom.

You’re sitting on the floor, back pressed against the tub. There’s blood and a fluid Price doesn’t recognize smearing the floor between your legs.

You glance up. Smile. “Hi,” you laugh as Price drops to his knees beside you.

There’s a baby in your arms. Its hands are tight fists, face pinched like it’s annoyed to be here.

“No wonder you didn’t answer the phone,” sighs Price, placing his hand against yours that cradles the infant’s head.

“A bit busy,” you chuckle.

Price laughs with you, taking his phone out his jacket pocket to dial the hospital.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I’m not leaving.”

“It’s fine, Simon. Really.”

Simon crosses his arms over his chest. “The last time I left you this close to your due date, you gave birth while I wasn’t here.”

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand. “That’s not going to happen again.”

“It might,” he growls.

“It won’t,” you insist.

As you start to walk away, Simon blocks your path. “You’ve been complaining about your lower back all morning.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “I always complain about my lower back.” Simon begins to object but you continue on. “And we need milk. And eggs. And bread.”

“Fine,” mutters Simon. “Fine. I’ll go. But you call me immediately if anything happens.”

 “Okay, dad,” you reply, mocking him.

Simon drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you in to kiss the top of your head. “Pumpkin,” he replies, and you hear the smile in it.

“The sooner you go the sooner you’ll be back. You can worry and fuss over me all you want then.”

Simon pulls you in for another kiss before heading out the door. The trip to the store isn’t peaceful. In the back of his mind, Simon stews, a little voice telling him that you’re going to call him any second and tell him you’re in labor. That’s what happened with your first, and Simon came home after you’d given birth.

He was devasted. Upset. Not with you—never with you. He was upset with himself for not being there to support you through it. To hold your hand. To encourage and shower you with love.

Simon is standing in line at the meat counter when you call him.

“Don’t be angry,” you say when he answers the phone.

“Are you having contractions?”

“…Yes.”

“Goddamn it.”

Simon abandons the shopping trolley, apologizing to the workers as he rushes out the door and to the car. When he enters the house, he hears your labored cry. Dashing up the stairs, Simon enters the bathroom at the same moment you cry out, clearly pushing. You’re on your hands and knees, sweat beads your brow, hair sticking to your face.

He dives to his knees, arms outstretched and reaching beneath you as the baby’s head emerges.

“I’m here,” Simon says, keeping his voice calm and soothing.

You start crying, head tilting to lean against his shoulder.

Another push, and then the rest of the baby is out and in Simon’s hands. The infant is silent at first, then releases a cry of displeasure.

“Bloody hell,” exhales Simon, “I’m never leaving you alone again.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

I’m having contractions, reads the text.

Johnny’s mouth drops open, gaze growing distant.

You’re having contractions. You’re having contractions, and he is on the other side of the city. With traffic, he’s likely an entire hour away from you.

“Soap?” asks Gaz, waving his hand in front of Johnny’s face.

“I have to go,” says Johnny quickly, shooting up from his chair, almost knocking it over.

Gaz and Ghost both stand abruptly, clearly startled by Johnny’s sudden panic.

“Everything good?” asks Ghost.

Johnny shakes his head. “The missus is having contractions.”

“Oh,” replies Gaz, eyes growing a bit wide. “Damn. Go. You should go.”

“We’ll cover your tab,” adds Ghost.

Johnny groans. “Her due date isn’t for another bloody week.” He grabs his jacket.

“You’re going to be a father, Soap,” chuckles Ghost, punching him in the shoulder.

“Fuck. What if she has it while I’m not there?”

“Don’t these things take forever anyway?” muses Ghost. “Contractions don’t mean anything. Right?” He glances at Gaz.

Gaz shrugs. “I think you should worry if it’s close together.” Gaz holds his hands close to indicate the lack of time.

“Shit,” mutters Johnny, tapping away at his phone.

Are they close together?

It’s a few seconds and then the three little circles pop up, indicating that you’re typing back.

They’re close. A few minutes apart. I’m on the phone with the midwife.

“Oh fuck,” mutters Johnny, elongating the vowel as he tugs on his jacket.

Gaz grimaces. “It’ll be fine,” he tries to reassure as Johnny rushes past him. “Congrats!”

Johnny hardly hears him, he’s too focused on getting to the car. Every second is agony—not knowing what’s happening while he’s driving. When he pulls up to the house almost an hour later, there’s a car Johnny doesn’t recognize in the drive.

As bursts through the door, he hears calming music. Rushing forward into the living room, he finds you on the floor, wrapped up in a blanket, propped up by a nest of pillows. The midwife putters about as you gently rock back and forth, cradling an infant in your arms.

You glance up. “Look,” you laugh, lifting the infant that you’ve just birthed, presenting it like you’ve completed a fun DIY craft project.

Johnny almost faints.

“Oh, babe,” he exhales. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The midwife makes a sound of annoyed agreement and Johnny winces.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “She came quickly.”

“I should have been here,” he groans, sliding to the floor next to you, draping an arm over your shoulders.

You lean into him. “You’re here now,” you sigh, eyes closing as you snuggle against him.

Johnny looks to the midwife, and she smiles at him—a reassurance. You’re fine, and so is his daughter.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Ignoring it, Kyle keeps his attention on Captain Price, focusing on the briefing for the upcoming mission. The phone goes silent. Seconds later, it starts up again. Frowning, Kyle reaches into his pocket, sliding out the phone just enough to see the screen. Your name and picture appear on the screen, your smile bright and lovely.

“Need to answer that?”

Kyle’s head snaps up at the sound of Captain Price’s voice.

“Sorry, Captain. It’s the missus.”

Price inclines his head, the middle of his brow creasing slightly. “It’s she pregnant?”

“She is,” affirms Kyle.

“Then you should answer it.”

Kyle gives him, Ghost, and Soap a brief nod. “Excuse me,” he mutters, standing and heading for the door.

When the meeting room door slams shut, the phone starts up again.

Kyle answers, his words falling from his mouth quickly, sounding like one solid word instead of several. “What’s going on, love?”

“I’m having contractions.”

You sound panicked.

 “You’re—are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” you gasp. “Water broke earlier—"

Kyle’s voice rises slightly. “Your water broke and you didn’t call me?”

“I wasn’t feeling anything,” you reply, as if that makes it okay. “But now, it’s constant.” Your sigh is labored. Tired. “They’ve come on so suddenly, Kyle. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, love. Don’t apologize.” You have nothing to be sorry for. He’s just happy you called. “I’m coming home. Right now.”

“But you have that meeting. You can’t—”

“I’m coming home,” he reiterates. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Hang in there, dove. I’ll be there soon.” Kyle disconnects the call and bursts through the meeting room doors. “It’s happening,” he announces.

Soap blinks, confused. “What’s happening?”

Ghost side-eyes him. “He’s about to become a dad.”

“Fucking shit. Really?” Soap turns to Kyle, beaming. “Congrats.”

Price crosses his arms over his chest, a look of pride on his face. “Go, Sergeant.”

Kyle nods, giving a half-wave as he backs out through the toward, heading toward the parking lot. He’s practically running—rushing to turn the car on. Taking off, Kyle hardly cares if he hits anything, and he doesn’t blink when breaking nearly a dozen traffic laws.

He makes it home in half the time he usually does. Every second counts. Every moment important. If the contractions are coming quickly and close together, it means the baby is ready, and he needs to get you to the hospital.

As he enters the front door, he calls out to you. Your answer comes, but it’s distant. Upstairs. Kyle takes the stairs two at a time, walking into the bedroom to find it empty. But the bathroom light is on.

A few steps, and he pushes open the door.

You’re not standing at the sink putting on your makeup or getting ready to leave. You sit inside the shower on the tile floor, the glass door wide open, pantless, and cradling an infant in your arms.

“Shit,” he breathes, moving forward. “Shit.” Kyle crouches just outside the shower door.

You grin sheepishly, lifting the baby like it’s an accident. “She came minutes after I got off the phone with you.”

“Oh, bloody hell, love,” laughs Kyle.

There are tears in your eyes, but you’re smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Don’t be, my love.” Reaching out, he grasps the back of your neck. Leaning in, he presses his lips to your forehead. “She’s beautiful.”

[sugarwarachan]

horny brainrot: bnha

andy's notes: ahhhh i've missed y'all!! getting back into the swing of things (work was hell this week) and hope you like this particular bit of filth while i crack into prompts

content warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, not free of spoilers just by character names alone lol, pregnancy kink, panty kink, oral fixation, brat taming, oral m!receiving, cnc, throat fucking, scent kink, slightly yandere behavior with feathers, size kink

characters: kirishima eijiro, tenko shimura, shinsou hitoshi, hizashi yamada, aizawa shouta, keigo takami, shouto todoroki

kirishima has the nastiest pregnancy kink, no one can convince me otherwise, so he's delighted when he finds out you have one, too. but when you're trying for a baby, your everyday life becomes horny hell because he insists on treating you like you're already pregnant. when you want to do something around the house, he tells you to "think of the baby," wide grin on his face when you flush and squirm your legs together. shows you maternity clothing ads of all the things he can't wait to buy you, patting your tummy. "you're gonna look so good in this sundress when your bumps start to fill out, honey." it gets so bad that literally the mere swipe of his thumb across your lower belly makes your pussy clench. (you get a positive pregnancy test two weeks later)

tenko puts on a pair of your silk panties because he has "nothing of his own left to wear" but he's actually been thinking about how the material would hug his balls ever since he pulled them off you days ago. the silk clings to his dick, dragging over the shaft with a feather-like caress. he groans and ruts his hips into his palm. pre-cum darkens the silk. arousal unspools in his belly and his cock twitches, aching at the fact that your cunt rested here, right where his balls now hang. your pretty pussy lips dragged over this fabric too, leaving your juices on the gusset. he rolls into the mattress, humping your pretty pink sheets. he hears whimpering and whining and realizes it's him drooling out your name into the pillow as he cums harder than he ever has

when you're done being a mouthy little brat, shinsou loves to cup your jaw and sink two fingers into your mouth, the cold metal bands of his rings clinking gently against your teeth as your cheeks hollow, sucking and humming around his digits like the greedy little whore you are. "look at me," he says, tipping your head back and holding your gaze. "keep your eyes on me while i keep your mouth full.''

hizashi loves when you take charge, when you tie him to a chair and stuff your panties in his mouth while giving him the sloppiest head of his life. he ruts his hips up into the delicious hot suction of your mouth, but you hold him down and pull away with a plop. you smear spit and pre-cum over your lips with the head of his dick, smirking when it twitches. you do this for hours, until his dick is flushed dark, engorged and aching, balls drawn up so tight against his body your mere breath against them is torture. when you finally let him cum, he explodes down your throat and onto your lips, a creamy gloss that you lick away after

the first time you broach aizawa about cnc you don't miss the way his jaw clicks shut like he's swallowing down every thought. "you're sure?" is all he asks and then you get a questionnaire in your email a few days later regarding hard limits. cut to a month later, he's fisting your hair and bullying his cock down your throat. "break eye contact and i'll paddle your ass raw." you're already slobbering all over his shaft, drool slipping down your chin and neck. your eyes burn with tears and mascara and you know you look like a fucked-out mess, but your body is tingling, flying. "you love to be used like this, don't you?" aizawa fucks even deeper into your mouth, rocking into the curved concave of your throat. "nothing more than daddy's little cumdump?"

keigo gave you one of his feathers for a totally normal reason, he swears - not because he wants to keep an eye on his attractive personal assistant on your off time. it backfires, though, because you know all about his feathers' capabilities. the first time you stroke the feather keigo thinks he imagined it. but no, the more he interacts with you, the more he memorizes your scent, the swollen bud of your lower lip. when he feels you kiss his offering, it nearly brings him to his knees. but he scents you next, the musky sweetness of what can only be your arousal. when he lands on your window sill and sees the feather slipping between your thighs, you merely smile and ask him what took him so long to get there

shouto "doesn't have a size kink" todoroki hearing you whine "it won't fit" when he slots the head of his cock against your pussy. he's never really paid attention to how much smaller you are than him, how much his body overwhelms yours. he'll have to work hard to make sure you're ready for him. he rubs your swollen clit with his thumb, the palm of his hand hot on your belly. your pussy jumps and flutters around the thick head of his dick, already flushed red and weeping. he taps your belly button, knowing that's where he'll be soon. "i'll make it fit."

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