#ugh I love all of this fluff anon

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I really loved your career day fic and I was wondering if you could do a Shut up mom fic with the same lineup with nanami tho if you write for him🥺 👉👈

Shut up, Mom!

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, mostly crack, cursing, jjk men as dads / fem!reader

An: I would be delighted to write this anon :) my requests are open, loves. If you want me to write a specific idea, definitely ask and I’ll try to deliver on it! also, if anyone wants to be on a taglist please let me know. So, I gave Sukuna a kid in this one because I didn’t really see Yuji calling you mom or him dad. Yuji calls you two unc and auntie :)

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

��Aoi, did you take out the trash?” You ask your nine-year-old son while trying not to giggle. Aoi has recently discovered pranks, and he suggested playing one on Satoru. You couldn’t help but think that was an amazing idea.

Your husband was leisurely sitting on the couch, playing a game on the console he and your son shared. He was able to see you from his peripheral vision while you and Aoi were in the dining room. He didn’t seem to be too intrigued by the conversation, but Satoru is a chronic eavesdropper. He can’t help it with his technique and all.

“No, mom. Why can’t you do it?” Aoi plays his role perfectly, even throwing in an annoyed groan at you. Gojo cut his eyes towards you two, but he stayed silent for a moment. He knew this was your battle to face, and he wasn’t usually the disciplinary parent anyways.

“Because I told you to do it, Aoi. It’s your chore.” You say, putting on a serious voice as you would if he had really been sassing off to you.

“Ugh. Shut up, mom!” Aoi yells with a dramatic eye roll.

Immediately, you hear the game console cut off. It seems like you two had garnered Satoru’s attention. Footsteps carry into the dining room, and your all too tall husband leans against the doorframe.

Aoi sees his father, and his eyes widen. Your little actor. He then tries to walk off, but Satoru easily put his hand out against Aoi’s chest, preventing him from going anywhere.

“Woah, woah, woah, there little man. Who do you think you’re talking to there?” He interjects as his hands slowly unwrap his bindings from around his eyes, letting you know that he’s about to get serious.

“She’s getting on my nerves, dad!” Aoi continues to play the role, even though you can tell that he’s scared shitless.

“Hey, look at me.” Satoru says as he bends his knees to be eye level with Aoi. Your son complies with his dad’s order. “I don’t give a shit, okay? Never, and I mean, never tell your mother to shut up unless you intend on fighting me afterwards. She says to take out the trash, you say yes and take out the trash. Do you understand me?” Satoru says as he holds his son’s shoulders, squeezing them a bit so Aoi knows he’s not fooling around.

“Because I don’t think you want to fight me, do you?” Satoru questions. His blue eyes beam in the light, making your son nervously sweat.

“Baby, it’s just a prank.” You quickly interject with a laugh as you gently nudge your husband away from your son.

“Yeah dad, I was just acting!!” Aoi’s nervous gaze flutters into an adorable smile.

Satoru rolls his eyes and playfully laughs along. “You two are too silly, makin’ me turn off my game for this.” He shakes his head as he wraps his eyes back up.

“You were like gonna hollow purple me!” Aoi shouts with an excited laugh, and he reenacts Satoru’s cursed technique.

“Yeah, I love your mom a little too much.” Satoru responds with a grin up towards your direction.

SUGURU

Mimiko and Nanako are coming into their teen years, and recently, they’ve been obsessed with the idea of TikTok. After seeing the “shut up mom” prank all over, they knew that they had to play it on Suguru.

You, of course, agreed to help them pull off their little shenanigan.

“You two are not going out. It’s a school night.” You chide at the twin girls, giving them a small wink as Suguru was enjoying a cup of tea while sitting at the breakfast bar. He was scrolling mindlessly on his phone, reading the news or something like that.

“Mom, please. Everyone’s going.” Nanako pled and even threw in a small pout.

“Yeah, who cares if it’s a school night?” Mimiko chimed in.

“Girls.” Suguru warned as he normally did when you were having to deal with the twins. He didn’t like the idea of the girls ganging up on you.

“I said no. I bet you two didn’t even do your homework yet either.” You carry on, eyeing the two girls as if they were really in trouble.

“Ugh! Mom, shut up!” The girls somehow managed to say in sync. The two had obviously practiced their lines.

The tea glass hit the counter, and Suguru a stood up from his seat on the stool. “Hey. I don’t ever want to hear that kind of language in this house, especially not to your mother. Got that?” He said as he eyed your daughters.

Your husband was a bit of a strict father to the girls. He really just wanted them to turn out good, so he was the main disciplinary figure in the house.

“Dad! She’s-“

“Aht.” He cuts Mimiko off, and starts to walk up to the girls. “I didn’t ask. Apologize to your mother this instant. Then, go upstairs and do your homework. You two are grounded from going out for at least a month.”

“Sugu, it’s a prank.” You say as you can’t hold back a laugh from how angry he got that quickly. “It’s a prank, sweetie.”

Your two girls were nodding quickly, holding their hands out in surrender. “We saw it on TikTok!”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the three of you. “That app is no good for you.” He quietly chides. “Did you two do your homework?”

Mimiko and Nanako exchange nervous glances, and they both run up to their rooms to get it done.

Your husband laughs quietly and shakes his head before sitting back down on his stool. You walk over towards him and card your fingers through his long hair. He lets out a long exhale of contentment while leaning his head into your touch. “What are we gonna do with those two, hm?”

“Love them and try our best to teach them.” You softly respond before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

TOJI

Toji is a pretty laid back dad. He lets you take the lead on a lot of the parenting aspects, since it comes to you more naturally than it does with him. However.. he has his moments.

“Megumi, come help me do the dishes.” You say to your 13-year-old son. He’s in that weird stage of puberty where you’re his best friend one day and his worst enemy the next, which means he sometimes agreed to play pranks with you.

“Busy, mom.” He mumbles at the table as he’s trying to learn the hand signs for one of his shikigami. He was left learning this stuff on his own since Toji wasn’t a sorcerer, and you weren’t apart of the Zenin clan. You had no idea how to do the hand gestures.

“You can do that after you’re done helping me, Gumi.” You say as you turn on the kitchen sink. Your son doesn’t even acknowledge that you said anything.

Toji eyes him from his seat at the dining table, waiting for his son to comply.

“Gumi. Get in here.” You finally say after a minute of him not responding to you.

“Shut up, Mom!” He raises his voice at you, and immediately, Toji is on him quicker than you could respond.

“What did you just say to your mother, brat?” Toji grits as he stares down at his teenage son. Megumi looked back up at him mortified. “I brought you in this world, and I will take your ass out of it if I hear you speak to your mom like that again.”

“Baby, baby, baby, it’s a prank!” You say as you rush over to Toji. Megumi cracks a nervous smile, and you gently nudge Toji back.

“It’s a prank!” Megumi shouts as he leans back away from Toji slightly.

Your husband lets out an annoyed grunt. “You two play too much. Gonna make me kill my own son.” He says as he releases Megumi’s shoulder. He walks back over to his seat at the dining table and smacks your ass on the way back.

SUKUNA

“Ryu, come take out the trash!” You yell to your son. He recently brought up the idea of pranking Sukuna by yelling at you to shut up in front of him. You had urged your son that this was a bad idea, but he was persistent.

Sukuna was sat at the dining table, eating whatever Uraume had prepared for him. Usually, Uraume handled the trash as well, but you distinctly told them to leave it.

There’s no response.

“Ryu! Trash now!” You call out again in a more frustrated tone.

Sukuna is biting his tongue at this point. There is nothing that he hates more than insolence, especially towards you. You’re his queen, and he demands for all to respect you, including his son.

No response.

“Ryu!”

“Okay mom! Shut the fuck up!”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes widened, and he put down his fork. “Domain expansion. Malevolent-“

“It’s a prank!” You shout as you spin to look at Sukuna quickly. Your son is standing behind you, quite literally trembling in fear.

“Yeah- it’s a p-prank, dad.” Ryu stutters out.

Sukuna narrows his gaze, and he looks between the two of you. “Foolish.” He grunts. “Boy, come have a seat.” He commands, and your son reluctantly complies.

“If you ever pull some shit like that seriously, I’m not afraid to start over and make a new kid. I got nothing but time on my hands.” Your husband says while eyeing your son.

“Ryu’s a good kid, Kuna.” You assure him as you walk over to your husband and rub on his shoulders a bit.

“Mmm, for now.” He mumbles, and he nods his head to the trashcan. “Take the trash out.”

NANAMI

Your husband was sitting in the living room, enjoying his “lazy Sunday” as he called it. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. He couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the life he was living right now.

He had everything he ever dreamed of: a stable job, an amazing wife, a small family in a loving home.

You were sitting next to him, casually rubbing on his thigh through his pajama pants. You and your daughter had been texting about playing a prank on your dear husband, and it was finally going to happen.

“Hana, did you fold the clothes like I told you to?” You call out to your daughter as she’s in her bedroom. Nanami turns a page in his book, still not paying too much attention.

“Mom, I’m doing something!” Your daughter yells back.

“Hana, get in here and fold those clothes!” You shout back, getting a bit more serious. Nanami lets out a small sigh as he places his mug on the coffee table. He’s normally quick to nip Hana’s attitude in the bud.

“I’m busy!”

“Hana!”

“Okay mom! Just shut up already!” She finally yells as she storms into the living room. Nanami shuts his book and immediately stares down your daughter.

“What did you just say?” He asks as he sits up from his cozy position. His jaw tightens a bit as he glares at Hana.

“I just told her to shut up. She’s being overdramatic.” Your daughter continues, playing her part perfectly.

“Who’s her? Your mother? You’re telling my wife to shut up?” Nanami says as he starts to stand up.

“It’s just a prank, Ken!”

“Dad, it’s a prank-!”

You and your daughter both shout nervously, and Nanami looks at both of you confused for a moment. It then clicks in his head. “God, don’t stress me out like that.” He chides as he relaxes back on the couch. He wraps his arm back around you and picks up his book again.

[fayes-fics]

Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers. 

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer. 

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered. 

“Are you sure?” 

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him. 

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict. 

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room. 

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby. 

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you. 

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?” 

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later. 

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse. 

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank. 

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours.  “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome. 

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot. 

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is. 

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body. 

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.  

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area. 

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.”  His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise. 

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you. 

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time. 

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly. 

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does. 

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone. 

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage. 

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm. 

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world. 

Which to you both, they are.

Join my taglist HERE

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @notanotheruniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[jamminvroomvroom]

I absolutely adore your writing,

For the celebration, could you please do virgin reader first time with Oscar?

sunshine.

op x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which oscar arrives home to an unexpected guest…

hi hi hi! thank you so much anon, i hope this is what you wanted!! trying to get through requests, loving hearing from you guys! this one is so cute i think, let me know ur thoughts 😚😚

songs to set the mood: fall in love with you by montell fish, fade into you by mazzy star, like real people do by hozier

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!!! smut, fluff, friends to lovers, sleepy baby oscar, teeny tiny bit of angst, mutual pining, r’s first time, swearing

2.9k words

oscar’s exhausted, shoulders sagging beneath the thick material of his mclaren hoodie. he’s glad he left it in his carry on, the miserable london weather not even remotely living up to the warm glow of the middle eastern sun.

he craves his bed, dreamless sleep, entering the code to get into his building and slumping against the cool mirrored wall of the elevator. his eyes droop as the lift travels up, and the ding that sounds when he reaches his floor breathes life back into him.

the double header that kickstarted the season has knackered him, and he longs for alone time and silence to recuperate before he has to deal with the noise of going home and racing in front of a familiar crowd.

his key slides into the lock and he pushes the door open, throwing his bags by the door - he’ll deal with them later. the hoodie is shrugged off and dropped haphazardly on the floor next to the shoes he kicks off. his bed is calling. dazed, he trudges down the hallway, but he’s spooked by a faint sound coming from his bedroom.

as he primes himself to investigate, he hears footsteps, light and quiet against the floorboards. he goes to open his bedroom door, breathing heavy, but he just about jumps out of his skin when it swings open before he gets there. he yelps, and so do you, leaping into the air.

“you scared the shit out of me.” you shout, hand over your thumping heart.

“i scared you? what are you doing here?” oscar bites back, running his hand through his brown locks.

“sorry, sorry, i didn’t mean to be here without your permission but… it’s a long story. i didn’t think you’d be home yet.” you smile apologetically.

“sofa.” oscar mumbles, stalking past his bedroom and towards the living room. “what’s goi- are you wearing my shirt?” he splutters, finally looking at you properly.

your face heats up, and you cross your arms awkwardly.

“um, yeah? god, this is all so embarrassing.” you cover your face, falling onto the sofa. he plonks down beside you.

“tell me what happened.” oscar sighs.

“he dumped me.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“why?” oscar asks softly. “ugh, i knew i hated him for a reason.” he wrinkles his nose.

“i don’t know how to explain this without wading into major tmi territory.” your voice is small, quivering slightly.

“you can tell me, love.” he encourages gently.

“he found it weird that i’m, uh, a virgin?” you squeak, your voice raising into a question. oscar goes as red as you are.

“oh. oh.”

“oh god, you’re freaked out too. is there something wrong with me? like, why has this not happened? i thought i was ready with him, but then when it came down to it…” you ramble, trailing off.

“there’s nothing wrong with you.” oscar states, firm and serious. “him, on the other hand.” he shakes his head, disgusted. “he wasn’t good enough for you.” he spits.

“do you mind if i stay here?” you whisper, leaning into his side. “or, keep staying here?” you laugh softly. oscar joins in.

“you know you can always stay here.” he smiles sleepily. you’re just about the only person in the world he can stand right now, and always, actually. “but i need a nap, you coming?”

you nod and follow him to his room. the tv is still on, the one with monica and chandlers wedding playing quietly. oscar smiles. he knows it’s your favourite.

he flops onto his side of the bed, dropping off almost instantly. you watch over him, enamoured and sympathetic, in awe of him and the life he lives. you slip into bed beside him, leaving a respectable distance between you and the aussie.

you pass out right around chandler’s vows.

-

you stir between two thick arms. pale, warm skin is wrapped around you, oscar’s soft breath fanning your face as he sleeps.

you watch him, scanning each and every mole on his face, trying to ground yourself. you combat the anxiety of being in his arms, choosing to enjoy the moment, while he’s still peaceful. it’s nice to feel wanted, even if he’s unconscious.

for the first time, you’re glad your ex broke up with you, because how does it make sense that you feel safer, more wanted in the arms of your best friend?

“stop staring, ‘m gonna blush.” oscar mumbles, clearing his throat. his eyes are still shut, but he just knows you too well.

oscar opens his eyes slowly, blinking away sleep. you stare at each other, comfortable silence eating away at the palpable tension.

you kiss him.

because why wouldn’t you? it’s oscar, your oscar, and he’s sleepy and cosy and gorgeous, and you’ve waited too fucking long. you can’t resist it any longer, free from the bounds of being someone else’s.

his lips are warm, and he’s startled, but the surprise doesn’t falter him; just as quickly as you kiss him, he’s kissing you back. his large hand finds your face, and the other finds your waist, pulling you closer. you melt into him, impossibly closer than you already were.

he’s gentle with you, tentative but firm and you part your lips, letting him lick into your mouth. his tongue strokes softly over yours and you keen at the sensation. he pushes you onto your back, balancing on his elbow half hovering over you. your hair fans out onto the pillow, his soft fingers running through your strands, pushing them away from your flushed face. oscar pulls away, scanning your face.

“sorry.” you smile up at him, breathless.

“apology very much accepted. i’ve been wondering when that would happen.” he laughs incredulously.

“really?”

“what can i say? i’m irresistible.” he replies dryly, exercising his sense of humour that was a foundation of your friendship.

“yeah. you kinda are.” you giggle bashfully.

and then he’s kissing you again, pressing himself even closer to you. you welcome him in, wrapping your arms around his lean frame, feeling over his shoulders. he’s tense, restrained, groaning into you at the feeling of your hands raking over his back.

“we should stop.” he mumbles, noses bumping. you frown.

“why?”

“because you said earlier, you’re not ready for this and i’m… well, things are gonna get real awkward if we keep going.” he chokes out half a laugh, glancing down at his-

“oh.”

“yeah, i just, i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. we can go slow.”

“osc, i wasn’t ready with him,” you pause, collecting your thoughts. “but you’re not him.”

“i suppose that’s true.” he shrugs.

“then you better do something.”

oscar lays you back, climbing over you completely this time. his trails over your jaw, taking your chin between his fingers.

“are you sure about this? we can stop anytime, just say the words.”

“‘m sure, oscar. i want to do this with you.” you coo, reassuringly.

his lips run over your neck, your collarbone, and he mouths at the collar of the t-shirt that you’re wearing. his t-shirt. his.

“gonna take this off, yeah?” he asks, whispering low, right by your ear.

“yeah, please.” you say, your own hands running under his t-shirt and up his muscular back. he’s relaxed now, no tension between his shoulder blades, and so you push the material up, and he slips it over his head. his warm digits peel your shirt off, too, and you’re warm all over when his eyes trail over your chest.

you’d forgone a bra, ditching it when you’d arrived at his place, and his pupils are blown wide, hazel hues sparkling with desire. his hands slide up your ribcage, thumbing at the underside of your breasts, while he plants open mouthed kisses down your chest. your eyes flutter shut, gasping softly as he skims your nipple.

“oscar.” you breathe, the light whimper sending his blood rushing south.

“does that feel good?” he asks, searching your face for answers.

“more.” you sound strained, desperate, and he aches.

his sucks your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the swollen bud. he toys with the other one, massaging your breast with his skilful fingers, tweaking and pulling until you’re panting beneath him. he pulls away with a pop, licking over to the other side, deciding to test your limits when he nips delicately at the peak. you moan, bucking your hips, hypersensitive to his every move.

you can feel how hard he is, his grey joggers growing tighter with every passing second.

“want all of you, osc.” you plead.

“need to get you ready for me first, okay honey?” he rubs circles into your sides, warm and calloused. you relax fully, lifting your hips.

oscar mouthed over your belly, peppering sunshine-like kisses down your abdomen until he finds the band of your loose shorts. he mumbles something into you navel about taking them off and you nod, enthusiastic and frantic. you can feel his smile branding your sensitive skin. the material glides down your thighs, pooling at your ankles, and you kick them away. he parts your thighs, making himself comfortable on his belly, and thumbs at the crease of your leg, toying with your panties.

he drags his pointer finger over your covered slit, up and down slowly, applying more pressure every time he brushes over your clit. oscar can see where you’re starting to seep through your panties and he stifles a low groan, anxious to peel the cotton off of your body, the final barrier separating him from you, so he does, pulling them slowly down your legs. he studies your face as he does, keeping his eyes firmly on yours. your lip catches between your teeth, aching as you watch, helpless and wet.

oscar kisses your hip bone, sucking gently until he’s stained it purple, and then his warm breath is fanning your cunt. your eyes squeeze shut.

“look at me, baby. gotta keep your eyes on me.” oscar mutters. your pussy clenches around nothing at the tone of his voice. you pry your eyes open, just about managing to prop yourself up on your elbows. “that’s it, honey. has anyone ever done this to you before?”

you shake your head, no. he smiles to himself, like he knows something you don’t, and dives in.

his tongue works in slow strokes, dragging through your slick with intent, eyes locked with yours. you must look like a deer in headlights, pupils blown, shocked with pleasure when you collapse against the mattress. he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking, tasting, and your legs go weak, splayed open all for him. you whimper as he tugs your clit between his teeth, just enough to graze over the sensitive nerves. it sends your hips flying, bucking wildly against his face.

“osc…” you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut.

“‘m gonna give you some more, is that okay?” he asks, nose bumping your clit.

“yes, please.” you don’t know what more is, but you need it like air.

you feel a finger glide over your sodden flesh, rubbing over your entrance. you sigh out, oh, anticipation and bliss sending white heat down your spine. he circles his finger around your opening, coating it in you, and carefully slides it in, feeling out for any sign of tension or discomfort. when you grind your hips onto the single digit, he knows you’re okay.

it feels good, better than anything you’d ever felt on your own, and you writhe against his bedspread. he thrusts a couple of times, experimenting, seeing what makes you squirm for him the right way, and when his finger curls, hooking deliciously, he knows he’s struck gold. you arch off the bed, searching for more, more, anything.

“another one.” you cry, begging, and oscar’s not one to tease. not yet, anyway.

a second finger joins the lonesome first, and he finds some pace, fucking into you faster. he scissors the digits, stretching you out for him, enjoying the pretty view. he’s achingly hard now, rocking discreetly into the mattress, losing his mind as he watches how you drip around his fingers. he wants another taste of you, addicted already to sweet, salty honey, so he has to finish you off, lap your mess off of his long fingers.

“i think- i think-“ you can’t get the words out, they’re lost on your tongue, but oscar knows what you mean.

“that’s it, baby. so good for me, doing so good. cum for me.” he spurs you on, drawing it out of you.

you let go, crashing biblically, the high sending you to heaven and back, two times over. he grinds his fingers, softer, just enough to help you through it and you chant his name like you’re praying at an alter. you know that you’ll never be over this. your oscar.

“holy shit.” you giggle, smiling lazily as you return to the world of the living. he’s licking his fingers clean; you could black out so easily.

“did you enjoy that?” he punctuates with a kiss to your belly, crawling up your body until he’s hovering over you.

“maybe you should do it again, just so that i can really make sure that i did.” you tease. your hand rakes through his hair, pushing it back off of his face. he’s grinning down at you, eyes fluttering shut. “that was amazing.” you whisper. he’s blushing when he kisses you, and then you are too, when you taste yourself on his tongue.

he moans against your lips, making you pull back. your hand leaves his brown strands, joining your other, which is currently voyaging down his back.

“you’re wearing too many clothes.” you whisper, lips bumping his as your hands slide under the waistband of his sweats. something desperate emits from the back of his throat. you push them over his hips, fisting the thick fabric, eager to have him bare on top of you once and for all. oscar helps, kicking them away, boxers too.

you can feel him, thick and wet between your thighs, his breathing uneven. your nails graze his hip and he jolts, collapsing on top of you, his full weight covering your keening body. he kisses into the crook of your neck, frantic; you need him deep, immediately, his urgent change in form leaving you flushed.

“you want me?” he whispers into your ear, leaving you shivering.

“so bad.” you pant.

“i’ll be gentle.” he promises.

he guides himself through your folds, slippery and warm, all for him. he nudges the head inside of you, hips stuttering at the blinding tightness. you gasp, but he catches it in his mouth, softly moulding his lips to yours as he pushes further. you open up for him, pliant, and when he eventually bottoms out, he holds himself there, letting you adjust.

“oh, fuck.” your eyes roll back, nails leaving crescent marks in his shoulders.

“so good for me, so pretty.” oscar grunts. “say when, baby.” he breathes, rubbing soothing circles into your hip.

“move.”

oscar rolls his hips, rocking you into the mattress. he hooks your knee over his waist, driving himself deeper and deeper with every thrust. you’re boneless, lost to the delectable stretch, to the way his cock seems to touch every part of you that makes you quiver.

“tell me how it feels.” oscar murmurs, grip tightening on your thigh.

“fuck, oscar, it’s so good. ‘m so glad it’s you.” your voice shakes, raw with emotion.

“me fucking too.” he mumbles, increasing his pace ever so slightly.

his thrusts lull into more of a grind, reaching your depths and revelling in the way you only get tighter for him. you’re spilling around him, already so close to meeting your end, and all it takes is the calloused pad of his thumb brushing your bundle of nerves to have you convulsing. you’re somewhere else entirely, on a whole other spiritual plane, utterly and completely his as he fucks you through your second orgasm.

when he spills, white hot and sweat slicked, he gushes endless hushed whines of your name. it sounds perfect when he says it like this, rolling off of his tongue with dire urgency.

his dampened hair falls over his darkened eyes, full of stars and total adoration. you’re smiling sleepily up at him like he’s made of sunshine. you always thought he was, and now you know that he most definitely is.

the most beautiful sunshine man.

“hi.” he whispers.

“hi.” you whisper back.

an intimacy, different to the one you’ve just shared, blossoms between you, encapsulating you here with him endlessly.

“i’m gonna clean you up, ‘n then we’re gonna order food.” he gazes fondly, stroking your hair.

“perfect.” you agree.

“put friends back on, i’m gonna run you a bath.” he begrudgingly stands from the bed, trailing towards the en-suite.

“you’re gonna join me in there, right?” you admire his naked frame as he disappears into the bathroom.

“obviously.” he pokes his head out once more to scoff, and you lay there, grinning like the worlds most lovesick idiot, your thoughts dulled by the sound of running water.

when the bath is full of hot water and too many bubbles, he gets in first, and you sink into the revitalising heat. oscar pulls you close, your back to his chest, kissing over your hairline as you mould yourself against him.

“thank god you broke in.”

-

oh i’m soft

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne

lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

[lnfours]

Hi!!!

“Are you wearing my sweater?” Prompt 🥹 NEED this kind of fluff in my life. Like Lando stops by readers house to see her and she answers the door wearing his hoodie 😭ugh I can’t it’s making me MELT

anon, i don't think you understand when i say that i'm obsessed with this!!

jordan's birthday sleepover!

ever since you lando had started dating, you made it a routine that every thursday night was date night. even when he was in a different country, the two of you managed to watch a movie together while on facetime.

tonight was like every other thursday night, it was date night. your living room was set up, drinks and the snacks you had picked up at the grocery store sitting on the coffee table with a candle lit in the middle.

a knock on the door made you smile, running over to open the door. when you did, you were met with floppy brown curls and gorgeous eyes, a takeout bag in his hand as he smiled at you.

"hi," his smile was so contagious, making you smile back so wide you were sure your cheeks were going to hurt if you kept smiling.

"hi," you said, stepping aside to let him inside. he placed a kiss on your lips as he entered, the hand that wasn't holding the bag of food resting on your hip.

"are you wearing my sweater?"

you looked down, the black material wrapped around your frame. it was a tad too big, the hem of the hoodie falling at your mid-thigh and almost passing the hem of your shorts. a mclaren logo sat on the upper right side of your chest.

you shrugged, smiling as you looked back up at him, "huh, i guess so,"

"i was wondering where that went," he said, the both of you moving from the entry way and into the living room, "as long as it's in good hands that's all i care about."

"well, you're the one who left it here. what else was i supposed to do with it?" you teased.

he shook his head, laughing softly before continuing, "you look good in my clothes."

"you think?"

he nodded, "defintely. maybe next time you're over you could raid my closet."

it was true, seeing you in his clothes did something for him. made him feel a whole new level of love for you that he didn't think was possible. and if it meant you stealing every single hoodie and every single t-shirt, then so be it.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

On the subject of Bruce Wayne getting married: why not both? They have a marriage of convenience at Vegas first, but once they're deep in their feels, they have another more intimate and meaningful ceremony officiated by Alfred

UGH anon i could not agree more

Warnings: Marriage of convenience; fluff

Summary: It was supposed to be easy—a year-long marriage of convenience to keep Bruce's name clean; cash for your time spent, for your name and likeness splashed all over the papers, run through the mud by the tabloids.

You'd been in a tough spot; you were willing to risk it.

But you couldn't have banked on falling in love with Bruce, or on Bruce falling in love with you.

"We should get married."

It's mumbled against your temple mid-nuzzle, and chased by the warm pressure of Bruce drawing you impossibly closer. Your brow furrows even as your lips pull into a smile, your head tipping back to get a better look at Bruce in the dim bedroom light.

"We are married," You remind him.

"Properly," He insists.

You have to consider it for a moment.

Your first wedding hadn't exactly been a grand affair.

You still remember the roiling nerves as you'd pulled up to the drive-through chapel in Vegas. You'd known that the press would catch up with you in the next twelve hours; that every woman that had ever shown an outward interest in Bruce, so much as breathed in his direction, would come out of the woodwork; that you were likely expected to ignore his infidelity for the year of your contract.

But Bruce had held your hand tightly, come home faithfully. Your physical attraction had only grown as your emotional attachment had flourished. While Bruce's nights could be late, you never had a hint of infidelity from the press, or from Bruce himself.

You knew that you were in far too deep the first time the two of you had slept together. You hadn't been able to take your eyes off of him—even as you'd cum, your gaze had been glued to him, watching his eyes slip shut as his jaw dropped, your name and a murmur of, "Fuck," mingling as his hips stuttered.

It was supposed to be easy—a year-long marriage of convenience to keep Bruce's name clean; cash for your time spent, for your name and likeness splashed all over the papers, run through the mud by the tabloids.

You'd been in a tough spot; you were willing to risk it.

But you couldn't have banked on falling in love with Bruce, or on Bruce falling in love with you.

For better or worse, in sickness and in health, sometimes it feels too damn good to be true. Sometimes you wake up in Bruce's arms, and you just keep still and hold your breath. You revel in the warmth and comfort of his arms, and just feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

You've known that the end of your contract was nearing, but Bruce hasn't mentioned it.

Not until now.

"Properly?" You question, fingers skimming along his side. Bruce hums, hands sliding over your shoulder. "Was there some hitch with the first license that I don't know about?"

Bruce huffs softly, and your stomach flips as his hand slips up to your neck, grasping at the base and tipping your head up. You meet his eyes steadily, searching his gaze as his thumb skims along your nape.

"Go ahead," He urges, "Lie."

"Excuse me?"

"Tell me you don't feel this, too."

"Bruce," You huff, pushing yourself up, drawing back from his arms. It's hardly a few seconds before Bruce is up behind you.

"Tell me."

"It's just—We have a contract."

"Fuck the contract."

"You're speaking in a lot of absolutes."

"...Look at me."

You hesitate, gaze lingering on the gold band on your wing finger before you tip your head back toward him. You let your eyes sweep and settle on his chest, his shoulder. It's safe there.

But Bruce has never been one to go the safe route. He reaches up, curling his fingers tenderly around your jaw, tipping your chin up and forcing your eye contact.

"If you want out, tell me right now," He insists. "Nothing from the arrangement will change. We'll divorce, you'll have your stipend...Or," He leans into it softly, "We keep on. Nothing changes...Alfred will get ordained—"

"Bruce!"

"—And marry us properly...He should've been there the first time."

You frown as his face shifts, his eyes dropping to your lap. You hadn't known then, but you know now how dear Alfred is to Bruce, and Bruce is to Alfred. You hadn't known when you'd agreed to the contract, but it's become crystal clear to you now.

You push a quiet sigh through your nose, reaching up and taking hold of one of Bruce's hands in both of yours.

"What if you change your mind?" You ply softly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...This was supposed to be temporary, Bruce. We had a deal—we have paperwork, for fuckssake."

"I'll add a non-compete."

"Be serious—"

"I am being serious." Bruce intertwines your fingers, raising your hand and pressing a kiss to your ring. "Not about the non-compete, but...About Alfred. About getting married—and meaning it, this time."

You consider for a few moments before you lean against Bruce, sliding your thumb along his knuckles as you consider.

"The contract should be retooled into a prenup."

"We don't need a prenup."

"Now you're being ridiculous."

"No," Bruce insists. "I'm being decisive. I know what I'm doing."

"What if you're wrong about me?"

"I'm not."

"Are you always so full of yourself?"

"Sure of myself."

"Tomato, to-mah-to."

"Are you gonna marry me again or not, Mrs. Wayne?"

You grin, tipping your head back to press a gentle kiss to Bruce's jaw.

"Again and again, Mr. Wayne."

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; 

@winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 ; @missswriter ; @nominalnebula

[stansangel]

THE FORD FICS YOU HAVE MADE ME SOOOO UGH 🥹🥹🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸 Can we have more housewife househusband moments with him? 🥹

YES OMG!!! I'M SO GLAD U LOVE IT ANON! OMG BEING HIS LIL HOUSEWIFE AND MAKING SURE HE DOESNT GET LOST IN THE CHAOS OF ALL HIS WORK AND JUST CLEANING UP AFTER HIM!!!! ENJOY THIS PLEASE

Pairings: Stanford Pines x Reader Warnings: none! just house wife fluff Word Count: 266

You hum softly as you sweep the wooden floor of the cabin, sunlight streaming through the windows. Ford is in the living room, hunched over his latest journal, glasses sliding down his nose. You glance over at him, noticing the pile of books and loose papers scattered around. Typical. With a shake of your head, you head into the living room, broom in hand.

“Ford, this place is a disaster,” you say teasingly, nudging one of the books with your foot.

He looks up, a bit startled, then sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve been... busy.”

“I can see that.” You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Lucky for you, I’m here to keep things in order.”

You put the broom aside and start stacking the books, organizing them as best as you can. Ford watches for a moment, then gently tugs you down onto the couch beside him.

“Sit down for a minute, would you?” His voice is soft, but there’s a hint of amusement. “You’re always taking care of me.”

You lean into him, letting your head rest on his shoulder. “That’s my job, isn’t it? To make sure you don’t get lost in all this chaos.”

Ford chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You grin up at him. “Probably starve.”

He laughs, wrapping his arm around you, and for a moment, the mess doesn’t matter. The research doesn’t matter. It’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, right where you belong.

Ford loves his lil house wife 😣 what would this man do without you???

[bandgie]

Between us | Armageddon Event

Request: Sloth | Park Seonghwa (ATZ) by anon song!

warnings! mdni18+, fem!reader, handjob, cum eating (m!), cum swapping, making out, attempts at fluff lol, sleepy!reader/hwa, ass grabbing

notes! the gender envy Seonghwa gives me must be studied. also I love this song sm

You love the feel of Seonghwa when he’s fresh out of the shower. His skin is not hot, but not quite cold. It soothes your own flesh between the sheets.

Slender fingers snake their way up your shirt and around your waist to bring you close. Your chest is flushed to his, legs entangled in a way you know will make you sweaty within an hour, but you don't mind.

And when you breathe, you can smell the soap. Seonghwa’s body and scent encompass you wholly and you can only sigh in content into his neck.

“You feel nice.” It’s just above a whisper as you groan in satisfaction. Your nose touches his throat when you breathe in. “I like it when you’re clean.”

Seonghwa laughs, but he sounds almost offended. “Am I dirty most of the time or something?”

You giggle with him and you can feel how his arms tighten around you. “After practice, yeah, but I don’t really mind. I like you stinky too.”

He makes a sound of disgust that’s drowned out by your pleased laughter. Your arms wrap around his small waist, and when you pull him impossibly closer, you can feel the poking of his hard-on.

“Ugh.” You look up at him and narrow your eyes. “Do you have to get hard all the time?”

Seonghwa can’t meet your eyes. His blushing face is turned upwards, pretending that you aren’t even there. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But as he finds the courage to look at you, something in his sleepy eyes darkens. 

“Don’t play dumb with me right now. I can feel it stabbing my stomach.” Although you have an irritated expression on your pretty face, you don’t deny the excitement that bubbles in you. “Aren’t you tired from practice?”

He is. You could tell the moment he trudged through the front door and collapsed on the couch. Getting him to take a shower was a challenge in itself; you felt like a mother scolding their child for getting sweat and dirt on the furniture.

Even now, you can see the tiredness in his slanted eyes. Seonghwa’s lips are pouty from sleep, but that doesn’t stop his damned tongue from swiping over them.

“A little. I can stay up though.”

You know what he means. There’s been more than plenty of nights of a tired Seonghwa pounding you into the mattress. He cums quickly like that, flopping on the bed when he’s finished and opting to lick you clean rather than a shirt from the closet.

And although you feel warmth between your legs from the thought, you can’t imagine all the work you and him would have to put into for sex.

“But it’s late.”

He nods, “I know. And we’re both pretty tired from work.”

There’s a moment of silence between you two. On one hand, yes you’re exhausted. You really didn’t plan on fucking tonight, content with Seonghwa in your embrace. But on the other hand… there’s more than one way to have fun.

You use the hand that’s wrapped around his torso to snake between your bodies. You go over his hip, starting at his stomach before going to his navel and the front of his boxers.

Seonghwa’s warm in your palm even through the clothes. His breath catches in his throat when you gently rub him, thumb ghosting over the head of his cock.

The hand under your shirt rubs up and down encouragingly. You can feel his body heat up, the cold droplets of his shower nowhere to be seen. Seonghwa’s fingers slip from your shirt to find the fat of your ass instead. 

He squeezes when you cup his heaviness. You grope his sack before your palm goes up, trying your best to wrap around his cock and stroke.

“Shit.” Seonghwa’s lids close over his eyes briefly. “Just like that.”

You hum, straining your neck so you can kiss the underside of his jaw. 

He lets you, invites you even. The sounds of your pecks quietly echo in the room. His skin tastes as he smells. There's a faint soapiness to it, but not overwhelming in the slightest. You lick a stripe from the base of his throat to his earlobe and Seonghwa rewards you with a whimper.

His hips begin to match your pace. Seonghwa ruts into your hand with tired desperation that can only occur in the late hours of the night. All you need to do is keep a tight ring with your fingers so he can thrust into them, but you have a different plan in mind.

It’s a whine that leaves him when your hands move. Seonghwa pulls from your kisses to look down at you confused and pleadingly.

Before he can think of begging, your fingers diligently pull his erection free.

You don’t even get to see how his cock stands in all its glory. All of your attention is on Seonghwa’s parted lips and arched eyebrows, the symbol of his pleasure when you wrap your hand around him.

It’s alright if you can’t see how hard he is, you can feel it. It throbs in your hold. Little drops of precum ooze from his tip and you use it to slide against his length.

Seonghwa looks at you with an unreadable expression. It ranges from everything between exhaustion and need, but when he looks at your lips, you know what to give him.

The kiss is open-mouthed. There’s hardly any energy to lock your lips properly, but you have no complaints when he moans into your mouth. You eat the sound, tasting his pleasure on your tongue when you circle his tip.

His hips buck. Another delicious mewl lands on your lips and you eagerly suck on his bottom lip.

“Like that.” Seonghwa still manages to speak, his bottom teeth gleaming in the shadows. “Imma cum.”

You can tell. You’ve touched him enough to know when he gets close. His thrusts grow sloppy and he’s trying to press your body closer to his by your ass, but he can’t with your hand jerking him off.

So Seonghwa satisfies himself by kissing you properly. His lips mingle with yours almost endearingly and he gently takes your tongue into his mouth.

He tastes of toothpaste and mint, another clear sign that sleeping was also his intention this night. But when he twitches in your hand and sucks harshly on your pink muscle, it’s finishing that he has his sights set on.

You can feel the ropes of cum shoot out. It lands on the exposed part of your stomach and shirt, spraying until the white arousal does nothing but dribble on your fingers.

Seonghwa moans in your mouth controllably. You take the opportunity to kiss him sloppily, uncaring for how your saliva drips onto his chin. Judging from the continuous pulsing and more oozing, you think he likes it too.

Now you’re able to look down at the mess he’s made. It’s more than you thought. You should have put a towel underneath before Seonghwa finished all over him and yourself.

But it’s nothing he can’t help clean.

You do your best to swipe all the cum in your hand. He gasps when you squeeze his tip, making sure to get every drop out.

As you bring your soiled fingers up, you can’t help but stare at the ropes of cum. It could almost be considered pretty being stretched on your digits like this, but you don’t have enough time to dwell on it when Seonghwa happily takes your fingers into his mouth.

He moans at his taste, tongue lapping before he moves to the next finger. His tongue is wet and warm, so similar yet different than the cum he’s eating. You shiver at the memory of the very same tongue digging into your cunt, collecting yours and his arousal for his own hunger.

Seonghwa pops your fingers out one by one, a drop of cum escaping from the corner of his mouth that he licks back in.

He doesn’t have to ask, you lean in again to kiss him. Seonghwa moves his hand from your ass to the back of your head to angle you perfectly against him. You can taste his release, his salty but raw taste. You gulp most of it down, saving some on your tongue so he can play with the strings between your lips.

And it’s strands of cum and salvia that connect you two when you pull away breathlessly. 

His eyes are droopy. The high of his orgasm settled with the kiss and it’s only fatigue that welcomes him now. But his soaked, swollen lips still can’t help but ask, “Your turn?”

As good as it sounds to have his fingers play with your slick folds, you know Seonghwa would fall asleep before you could finish. Even if it was his mouth latched onto your pussy, he would still knock out from the warmth between your legs.

You’ll have to ignore the uncomfortable wetness in your underwear for tonight. “Maybe next time.”

Seonghwa has already begun to close his eyes. “But…but…your turn…” His head rests on the pillow, blinking to stay awake. But the warmth of your body and his after-glow is getting to him.

“I can…” he yawns. “...eat you out…”

You smile, but seeing him yawn makes you mimic him. His tiredness is rubbing off on you quickly and suddenly his mouth on your cunt doesn’t sound as good as sleeping in his arms. 

A chaste kiss on his lips is all he needs to succumb to his slumber. “Goodnight, Seonghwa.”

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

hi!! this is the same anon from earlier and i saw you wanted to write for james potter. and i’m so sorry if you’ve done something similar. so maybe after a quidditch match, win or loss, all james wants to do is lie and bed with reader and hug her. but they’re not dating and he ends up confessing too, still tired, he doesn’t even realize he’s admitted his feelings

thank you again for your time:))

-can i be ‘🎀 anon’? lolol

hi lovely 🎀! thanks for your sweet words and adorable requests 😊 i hope you like it!

pairing: James Potter x reader tags: fluffy fluff, some angst, gn reader if you want word count: 1.9k

Cuddles and Confessions

So close. So bloody close. And to bloody Slytherin to top it off? The defeat stung worse than any other James could remember. 

As he lumbers back up toward the castle after the match, frustrated and furious, some Slytherin fans jeer at him from across the lawns. It pushes him over an edge, and he turns to — well, he’s not sure to what; berate them? beat them up? — a strong hand grabs his shoulder and turns him back around.

“Easy, mate. They’re idiots but they’re not worth it,” Sirius says easily. Sirius of all people being the voice of reason has James realizing maybe he needs to calm down. 

James falling into step with Sirius without a word, the two make their way back up to the castle. 

When they get to the common room, it’s packed with mad and sad-looking Gryffindors consoling each other, complaining about bad calls, bad-mouthing the Slytherins: a typical post-match defeat. 

“Thank Godric,” Sirius sighs, heading immediately to a small table stacked with firewhisky. He grabs two glasses, but James stops him before he fills the second one.

“No thanks, mate. Don’t really feel like the company,” he says, scanning the room. He admits to himself there is one face that would have made him stay, one person whose company was actually the only thing he wanted right now. But he doesn’t see you. So he stalks off, bounding up the stairs to his currently empty dormitory. 

He’s lying on his bed, tossing a ball up and down when he hears a soft knock. 

“What?” he yells, the harshness of his voice even surprising him a bit. Surprise shifts to horror when your beautiful, blushing face peeks around the door. 

“Hi, Jamie,” you say shyly. “I’m sorry. Sirius said you wanted to be alone. I should’ve listened. I didn’t mean to annoy you. I’ll just —” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he rushes, going over to you and pulling you into his room. “I’m so sorry, love. Please don’t go.” 

You smile a bit at this, looking down at your feet before nodding slightly. 

“Ugh, I’m a prick. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” His voice is soft now, warm and enveloping as you look into his pleading eyes. 

“It’s okay,” you chuckle. “I get it. Rough night, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, smiling for the first time all day. You had a way of bringing that out in him. 

“Want a hug?” you offer. He nods immediately, internally cringing for being so uncool in front of you.

“Yes please,” he half laughs. 

You step close to him, and even this increased proximity has him reeling. He can’t wait to feel your warmth around him, to smell your hair as he nuzzles into you. 

He’d been hoping to win tonight’s match for more reasons than one. He hated Slytherin for starters. He loved winning for seconds. But also, he had been hoping a Gryffindor victory party could be the perfect place to finally tell you how he feels about you. Firewhisky flowing, adrenaline pumping, maybe he’d finally have the courage he was supposed to have as a Gryffindor and tell you the truth. 

You bring your arms up around his shoulders, pulling him close to you, bringing one hand to his messy hair and scratching comfortingly. James’s large body immediately melts into yours. He hums into the crook of your neck, and you giggle. 

“Thanks for coming to check on me,” he whispers into your shoulder, holding you close. 

“Why would I want to be downstairs wallowing with everyone else when I could wallow with you?” you tease, pulling back slightly to be face to face again. He hates how much he just wants to pull you back into him. 

“Oh, I’m much better company than those wankers,” he plays along. 

“Yes, I’m sure. Seems you’re quite chipper from your greeting.” 

He cringes and whispers “sorry” again. You shake your head quickly, wanting him to know you’re only teasing. 

The silence stretches a bit too long, neither of you knowing what to say. It’s especially awkward because your hands are still on his shoulders, his on your hips. 

“So what were you doing?” you ask, coming up with nothing better. 

“Just lying in bed, wallowing,” he confesses. 

“Sounds fun,” you chuckle. You break apart from him, the tension becoming too much and head over to his bed, plopping down onto it. He laughs and follows, sitting close next to you. “What do you want to do?” you ask, your voice low. “I came to cheer you up, but I think I’m doing a bang up job so far,” you chuckle, scrunching your nose. 

Before thinking about it, James brings his hand up to your face, lightly tracing his finger down your nose for you to relax it. 

“You’re not,” he says earnestly. “I’m already better, just having you here.” He thinks he feels your face warm where his hand still caresses it but pushes the idea down, not wanting it to be wishful thinking. 

“So what do you want to do?” you ask again gently.

“Honestly?” he asks shyly. Nervous was a weird look on him, usually so cocky. 

“Of course,” you giggle in your warmest tones, wanting him to be open with you, relishing in the intimacy you seemed to be building. 

“I want to keep lying in bed wallowing.” 

You stiffen immediately, chiding yourself for misreading his nerves. He wanted you to leave; that’s why he seemed shy. 

James sees — and feels — you tense at his words, and luckily for him, he realizes right away what you’re probably thinking. He continues before he can stop himself, dreading your leaving more than dreading saying something stupid. 

“With you,” he adds hastily. He feels himself blush, hates it, but pushes on. “I want to lie in bed and wallow… with you,” he repeats more softly. 

“Oh,” is all you can think to respond.

“I mean, just hang out, you know. I just… you just… I just like hanging out with you. And even just your hug made me feel better,” he rambles sweetly. 

You smile and pull away from him a bit. Before he can be disappointed, though, you’re pulling him with you as you shuffle further back onto the bed, lying down and bringing him horizontal with you by the shoulder. 

You’re lying next to each other, both tense, facing the ceiling, your sides grazing but nothing more. You look over at him, and he looks at you, and you both look away like idiots. 

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself he literally just told you he wanted to be here with you, clinging to that to give you the courage for what you were about to do. You turn toward him and bring your hand up to his hair. His eyes snap to yours. First they show shock but that quickly melts to adoration. Then they show nothing at all as they close in comforted bliss. You chuckle softly and see the corners of his mouth tug up at the sound. 

“Feels nice,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” you whisper too. He just nods. 

You shuffle closer to him, and he turns his body towards yours. Your arm is cramped now between your two close bodies, so you do the reasonable thing for comfort, you tell yourself, and wrap your arm under his shoulders. His face coming to the crook of your neck, you miss the huge smile that breaks out on it at the contact. 

He’s lying on your shoulder now, the rest of his body flush with yours. Your arm is around him, your hand coming up to continue playing with his hair. James brings his arm over you, hugging you close, and you place your arm on top of his. 

It crosses James’s mind that friends don’t cuddle. But he stops his internal monologue in time to savour the moment rather than over-analyse it, which he’s bound to do later.

You just lie there in silence for  a bit, the tension having eased considerably. 

In your warm, comfortable cocoon, you bring your face closer to the top of his head on your shoulder and nuzzle him a bit. He just hums in response. 

“You’re comfy,” he says. It sounds muffled, his mouth squished against your shoulder. You laugh, and it shakes him up and down the slightest bit. 

James loves the feeling of your vibrating chest just below him. He can’t help himself and tickles you where his hand rests near your ribcage. You laugh louder. You hold down his arm to stop him and playfully shake him off a bit to protect yourself from more tickling. His grip tightens in response, and he’s almost on top of you by the time he’s done adjusting himself. 

“No, no, don’t go,” he chuckles. “I’ll stop.” 

Your laughter has mostly subsided, but your voice is raspy as you respond, “Promise?” He nods into your shoulder. “Fine. I’ll stay if you behave.” 

He laughs, squeezes you, whispers, “Promise.���

Any tension that had been left has dissipated completely, and you fall into easy chat as you hold each other close. Your hand continues playing with his hair, tugging it when he says something stupid. His arm draped over you occasionally squeezing you more tightly whenever either of you says something nice. You go over the highlights of the match, lamenting the result. Without realizing it, you start talking about any and everything else, and by the time the conversation lulls for the first time, both of you chuckling lightly, James wonder how much time has gone by. Not enough, he thinks to himself, wishing this would go on forever. 

The quiet, your hand in his hair, your warmth radiating around his body, it all soothes him into a half slumber. It washes over him how exhausted his body is from the match, how tense it had been from the fury at its result.

“This is nice,” he slurs. 

“Mmhmm,” you hum. 

“I’m not even mad anymore.” He sounds astounded even in his sleepy tones. You chuckle. 

“Good.” 

“Mmmm. We’ll prank the Slytherins tomorrow. And I’ll think of another time to tell you how I feel.” Your hand halts its motions. James is still completely relaxed, and you realize he’s pretty much half asleep, not truly realizing what he’s saying.

You don’t want to take advantage of him in this state, but you want to be honest with him too, and he clearly wanted to talk to you about whatever this was. 

So, you warmly whisper, “How do you feel, Jamie?”

“I love you,” he mumbles. You’re melting at his words, and you can’t wait till tomorrow to say them back. You shift your weight so you’re more facing James than under him, and this rattles him a bit more awake. His drowsy eyes are heavy initially but then they startle slightly. Before he can worry or regret, you hold his face gently in both your hands, your thumbs caressing his cheeks. 

“James…” He just looks deeply into your eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, not saying anything. “I love you, too.” 

His face shifts as if in slow motion. His eyebrows rise; his lips smile widely; his eyes crinkle.

“You love me?” He sounds equal parts giddy and disbelieving. 

“Yeah, I love you, you grump.” He chuckles. “You love me?” you echo.

He takes his time responding. Scanning your features adoringly. Eventually, finally, calmly and assuredly he says again, “I love you,” nodding as he closes the little distance between you. 

Your kiss is slightly awkward at first, your lips smiling automatically at his words before realizing they’re being called on to take on new, intoxicating shapes. 

[miumura]

LIPSTICK TREND WITH ENHYPEN !

💄 — the tiktok lipstick trend with enhypen

PAIRING bf!enhypen x gn!reader

GENRE fluff, established relationship

WARNINGS kisses obviously, ummm nothing else possibly??

( ‘💌’ ) note : tysm anon for requesting !! i was planning to write this so i’m glad i got this ask <3 so i hope you enjoy 🤍

💋 — HEESEUNG

— this guy will probably laughing his nervousness off ngl LMAOOO 😭 but then he realizes, he's been dating you for a while so why should he be nervous for ??

— he's probably going to be super flirty as you're kissing him ... like giving you a gaze that's gonna make you nervous 😵‍💫

— but then after all that he gets shy as you continue to kiss his face LMAO . like let’s talk about the duality 😪😪😪

— "you love kissing me that much?" LIKE IF U DONT SHUT UP RIGHT NOWWW .

— he would shower you with compliments as you're doing the trend yk 🤗 like his man cannot make you start recording bc he’s giving you literal BUTTERFLIES .

— goes back to the tiktok you both made just to rewatch the vid about five times before looking at some comments 😊 but he forgets honestly and just ends up watching ur tiktoks cause ure so 🫣🫣🤗🤗🤭🤭😍😍🥰🥰😘😘 u get it LMAO

💋 — JAY

— when you show him a tiktok of someone doing the trend, he's chill about it at first.

— "you wanna try this?" "yep!" "okay then."

— he tries to act calm but he's actually not 😊 like he looks "okay" on the outside but he's panicking in the inside

— like you only figure out how he's actually feeling because of his red face or the heat of his face when you kiss him

— probably tells you which lipstick to pick out and probably even offers to apply on for you. like he gives a bunch of compliments so you’re the one who turns up red next

— looks at you with such LOVING eyes like he can't keep his eyes off you as your planting kisses all over his face...im giggling like why are you still maintaining eye contact

— even when recording, hes gonna look at you lovingly that people comment under your tiktok wishing for a man like that ... but yeah hes all yours 😊 (im feeding into ur deluluness and mines)

💋 — JAKE

— he's both shy and excited when you bring up wanting to do this trend. like this guy cannot stand still BUT ITS CUTE like just imagine him waiting excitedly as you go to get your lipstick 😪

— he's looking at you with such adoration as you're putting on the lipstick :(

— your kisses on his face is ticklish for him despite how often you kiss him on his cheeks 😭 he's just probably nervous but lets not talk about that

— you might have to tell him to stop moving though CAUSE ITS SMUDGING THE KISSES ON HIS FACE 😭 like he’s not even doing it on purpose, he just can’t do it

— like it smudges so bad you have to reapply it on his face (basically redo) but who said you both were complaining about that ?

— so at one point he just closes his eyes and let you do his thing bc if he looks at you, hes gonna move 😭

— everyone would be commenting on how cute your bf is </3 and he would def be reading through the comments, giggling and showing them to you i love jake

💋 — SUNGHOON

— showing him the tiktok trend, this guy will just be SOOO quiet like he can’t process it really … like is he really going to be doing this trend with you ??$ sounds like a dream come true to him

— you might have to poke him to start speaking cause he’s just letting the video replay and just staring at it LMAO its funny to imagine but its so hoon

— “hey…hey!” “huh?” “are we going to do the trend?” “oh uh, sure”

— he may not seem to be excited but trust me, he is. he’s just nervous for no reason … he’s letting you doing your thing and is giving such a wide smile :( LIKE JUST IMAGINE IT ugh his smile is actually perfect.

— i think he would be ticklish too ngl … like he thinks about it too much so he kinda gets ticklish as you’re planting kisses on his face … as if you don’t give him pecks on his cheeks daily

— would get so immerse at looking at you that he forgets about the tiktok … you probably would scold him bc of the amount of times you have to recreate the video .. but he just finds you pretty okay let him be 😢

— gets shy when he sees the comments under your video like he turns RED okay… and he giggles at them LORD it would be really cute seeing him like that 🙁

💋 — SUNOO

— you and sunoo are so down to do any kind of tiktok trend! whenever you both have any time together, you guys would attempt any trend you see on the fyp LMAO

— so he’s super down for anything!!! it doesn’t take that much convincing for him because he would automatically say yes.

— matter fact, sunoo might find the trend sooner than you do. we know how updated he is with trends, i mean, have we seen his tiktoks?? so yes, he would show you the trend first.

— he would be really excited!! like imagine that wide smile and him being like “isn’t this such a good idea?” with that voice tone IF YKYK.

— once you agree it doesn’t take much for you to agree either, he’s already rushing into the room to get a lipstick for you LMAO he’s just so excited to do anything for you really.

— you both would probably create multiple drafts, not because you guys mess up or anything. you guys could do it perfectly on the first try, but you both wanted to create more to keep in drafts for only both of your eyes :( <3

— he would probably help you pick out which one to post, and he picks out the best one im telling you. and the tiktok would be such a hit like sunoo has an eye for this okay 🙏 LMAOO

💋 — JUNGWON

— still living the shy jungwon type LET ME LIVE

— like u can’t tell me he wouldn’t be super red as you bring up the tiktok idea AND IMAGINING HIS SMILE TOO im dead.

— he would say it would be great and would anxiously wait as you get everything.

— he’d smile so hard that you would end up kissing his dimples as well HAISNS

— he would like hold his breath as you leave pecks on him. like you get closer, inhale. LIKE its so funny to you because its sooo noticeable that he is holding his breath 😭 so you just laugh at him instead of pointing it out.

— but he would REALLY enjoy it and would get sad once you finish kissing all over his face….he may or may not try to mess up the tiktok multiple times….

— once you both decide on the perfect video, he WILL blush when he watches it on his own time.

— he’s just the sweetest . how many times have i said that on any jwon related work

💋 — NIKI

— this guy was WAITING for this day to come and let me explain

— usually niki would find trends for you both to do first, so you really never looked for any. so obviously, niki found this trend way before you did! but this trend…he couldn’t bring it up to you THAT EASILY. why??

— 1) you two always do the silly kind of trends 2) he would be shy 3) and you would tease the hell out of him.

— so what does he do?? MAKE IT SUPER OBV 😭 . like he would attempt to have the trend playing on his phone, throw it closer to you, and just walks away HOPING you would see it. HES SO SILLY BUT ITS CUTE

— after you not noticing his attempts, he just gives up thinking he would never ever do this trend in his lifetime and would die thinking about this hes so dramatic UNTIL a miracle happened…you brought up the trend idea 😱

— this guy cannot contain himself like he would say yes immediately and not even tease you by saying no at first.

— he’s in his little own happy world as you kiss him LIKE u think its so sweet when he acts like this </3 !!!

— “we should do more trends like these,” he would say after you both finish filming and you agreed. and once you did…niki finally brings up another trend to do — something that isn’t so silly this time 😊

ENHA PERM TAGLIST 1 — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @dioroits @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @flwrshee @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

[melzula]

Hi, i love your stuff! Your writing is AMAZING!

Could you do a sokkaxreader fic, where reader gets majorly hurt saving sokkas life-and she almost dies and super angst but turns sweet/fluff?

-✨anon

a/n: ugh i love angst!!! tysm for requesting this <3

warnings: mentions of blood, injury,

summary: a fight gone wrong leads to an important revelation for you and Sokka

It all had happened so fast.

One minute your group is enjoying a nice breakfast together and the next you’re fighting off Azula and her minions. They’d ambushed you, catching you in a vulnerable position and striking the moment you least expected them to. You had the advantage of numbers against them, but these girls were immensely skilled, so you didn’t have enough of an edge to completely defend yourselves against their attack.

You were assisting Katara in trying to take down Azula when you happened to catch a glance of Sokka from across the way. His back was turned to you and his focus was set on trying to dodge Ty Lee’s chi blocks, so he wasn’t able to detect the blades that were being aimed in his direction. Your eyes widened with panic as you quickly make your way towards him; you wouldn’t be fast enough to stop Mai from throwing the knives, but you’d at least be fast enough to get in their path and stop them from hitting your friend.

“Sokka, move!” You urged, shoving him out of the way and effectively knocking over Ty Lee in the process as well. You weren’t given the time to process anything else as you immediately felt the blades make contact with your skin, digging themselves deep into your back. You cried out in agony before immediately collapsing to the ground, all while Sokka watched on in horror.

“Y/n!” He screamed before scrambling to your side. The fabric of your top was beginning to turn a deep red, and you could already begin to feel the effects of blood loss take over. Your vision was hazy and your body felt cold, and yet you were still able to make out the features of his face as he stared down at you with tears in his eyes.

“Just hang on, I’m going to get you out of here!” He insisted, some of his tears landing on your face. You couldn’t find the strength to muster up a response, so instead you simply let your eyes close and allowed the cold to consume you whole.

When you regain consciousness again you find yourself in a tent. Everything hurts and your body feels like it’s on fire, and yet you can’t find the strength to move. Blurry faces hover over you and muffled voices fill your ears, but no matter how hard you try you can’t make sense of any of your surroundings.

“-more water. I need more water!”

“Why isn’t it working?!”

A sharp pulse jolts up your spine and this time you do cry out in pain, effectively startling the figures in the tent.

“Y/n!” A voice cries. Sokka’s voice.

He’s beside you in an instant, kneeling before you and taking your hand tightly in his own. You’ve never seen him like this, so distraught and terrified. You wonder what happened when you passed out.

“Try to stay awake, okay? Please stay awake,” he begs you before looking frantically to his sister. “She doesn’t look any better!”

“Sokka, I’m doing everything I can here!” His sister shouts back, equally distressed as she exerts all of her energy into healing you. Progress is there but it’s slow, and she worries that if she isn’t fast enough the damage may be permanent. Why did the blades have to hit your spine so perfectly?

“Sokka…” you murmur quietly, your eyes beginning to feel heavy yet again.

“No, no, no, y/n, look at me! Don’t go back to sleep!”

But his pleas fall on deaf ears, and you’re swept back under.

You’re not sure how much time has passed since you were last conscious, but the lamp beside you must mean that it’s grown dark outside. You feel warm, the sharp pain is gone, and all that is left behind is a sense of exhaustion from your adrenaline inducing day. You try to sit up only to immediately collapse due to the soreness of your back, but at least you’re able to move now.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t move,” Sokka insists, alerting you of his presence beside you. You feel his palm carefully lift the back of your head towards the bowl of water he holds in his other hand, allowing you to take greedy gulps until you’re satisfied. “Katara says you shouldn’t try to get up yet or you’ll strain yourself. Your body is still adjusting.”

“What happened? How long have I been asleep?” You ask groggily.

“About twelve hours,” he replies sullenly, and it isn’t until this moment that you’re able to detect the exhaustion present on his features. “Those blades dug right through your skin and into your spine. Katara spent hours healing you; for a minute we thought you might not make it or that maybe you’d live but be paralyzed for the rest of your life. Why did you do it?”

“What?”

“Why did you do it?” Sokka says more firmly this time. “How could you do something so stupid like that?! You could’ve died!”

“It’s not stupid to risk my life for someone I love,” you correct him with a faint smile. Your admission takes him by surprise, his face immediately growing hot and his mind actually at a loss for words for once.

“You… you love me?” He asks gently, almost as if he doesn’t believe you.

“I thought it was obvious, dummy.”

“Not to me!” He cries defensively. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a small shrug. “I guess there’s never really been a good time; there’s always another fight to win or people to save. It just didn’t feel right.”

“I guess you’re right,” he murmurs faintly. “But I’m glad you told me now, and I’m glad you’re alive. Because I can’t stand to lose another person that I love.”

You smile tiredly at his words, a new sense of understanding now being shared between you both. You love each other, and neither of you can stand to lose the other. This is real now, and you’re in it for the long haul.

He presses a kiss to your forehead then and urges you to get some more rest, and so you do. And Sokka stays planted right beside you to keep watch over you in your vulnerable state. In that moment he swears he’ll never let anything like this happen to you again.

And that’s a promise he intends to keep for a lifetime.

[wheeboo]

all yours | yoon jeonghan

SYNOPSIS. in which you get a bit too drunk on your special day. PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. mentions of drinking alcohol and throwing up, reader has long enough hair to be pulled back, cursing, terms of endearment WORD COUNT. 1.4k

requested from anon: Hi hope all is well, just wanted to say Congrats on the milestone! You deserve it! And if it’s okay I would like to request #29 and #52 from prompt list 1 with Jeonghan thank you in advance if you do it. Congrats again to 2k you honestly deserve it :) - #29: "I do love you, you know. Even if I'm shit at showing it." - #52: "Shut up, you love me. Why else would you be here, taking care of me while I hurl into a toilet?"

notes: thank u sm anon 😭🫶 ur so so sweet ily AAAA sending consensual smooches ur way 😚😚 also genuinely did not know what to title this lmfao

join the 2k celebration!

Okay, maybe you've had a bit too much to drink tonight.

It's your birthday anyway, so surely you have the right to go a little bit overboard on your special day... right?

"Ugh, I feel like shit," You mumble groggily, your body drifting and hitting the bathtub right next to you with a thud as the sounds of the toilet flushing bounce off the walls of the bathroom.

Jeonghan just crosses his arms together, leaning against the doorway with a sly smirk to his face. His eyes peer over your flushed face, slightly tousled hair and overall cute, disheveled appearance. You huff a breath as your gaze meets his, and a small, almost dreamy smile of your own forms on your face despite knowing how absurd you look right now.

"How do I look?" You ask, drawing your words out drunkenly.

"Honestly?" Jeonghan starts, and you lift a brow in anticipation. "You look ravishingly awful."

The words that leave his mouth has your face twisting in confusion, your brain hardly processing whatever the hell he just said (you'll take it as a compliment nonetheless, thanks to your cloudy mind).

However, Jeonghan just chuckles, fully stepping his way into the bathroom and towards where you are plopped down on the tile floor. He carefully sits himself down on the rim of the bathtub, expression softening right away with concern as he reaches out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face, feeling the warmth on your face from the alcohol to his fingers.

You lean into his touch instinctively, closing your eyes for a few seconds. "My body is going to hate me in the morning."

Jeonghan retracts his hand slightly, but not before his fingertips lingers your cheek, sending a jolt through your already-buzzing body and causing your eyes to flutter open. You can feel the heat creeping back up your neck, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze.

"Hmm, not if I take care of you real well, yeah?" he muses teasingly, and you could only groan in response, feeling the alcohol earlier make your head spin once more. But a tiny, sober part of you registers the warmth in his gaze.

That is, until you can start to feel something bubble up your throat, and before you can react, your stomach lurches, and you're scrambling for the toilet just in time to expel the contents of your stomach. You heave and retch, feeling utterly miserable as Jeonghan helps by pulling back your hair and rubbing your back soothingly.

As the wave of nausea passes, your hand releases its hold on the cold porcelain of the toilet seat. You lean back once more, nearly toppling over before Jeonghan's hands catch you by the shoulders, helping to straighten up your posture. You let out a sluggish sigh.

"Well, maybe you're not wrong about your body hating you," he says jokingly, then squeezes your shoulders right after as if reassure you. "I would not want to be the receiving end of all... that."

You roll your eyes in playful annoyance and yank his grip off you, his laughter ringing in your ears. "I... Shut up, you love me. Why else would you be here, taking care of me while I hurl into a toilet?"

A feigned gasp leaves Jeonghan as he dramatically clutches his chest. But the inebriated glare you throw his way doesn't seem to faze him in the slightest. You catch the way his face quickly dissolves into his horribly distinguishable shit-eating grin.

"Ah, you figured out my secret, my dearest," he responds with an exaggerated flair, cupping your face gently with his hand. "You getting wasted made you more perceptive than I thought."

You swat at him weakly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You're impossible."

"Only for you." He cheesily presses a kiss to the top of your head. "How are you feeling? Can you stand up?"

"Mmmh... help me?" You laggardly open your arms up to him, a pout forming at your mouth.

Your eyes are too heavy to catch the way Jeonghan is gazing at you so adoringly right now. He takes your outstretched arms and helps to hoist you up to your feet. For a moment, you're eye-to-eye, your head spinning slightly from the sudden movement and the world tilting a little as you stand.

Jeonghan secures a hand at your lower back as he carefully leads you out of the bathroom and back into your bedroom, catching a glimpse to the remains of the party from earlier scattered about the room. Balloons hang lazily at the ceiling, confetti laying across the floor𑁋you can deal with it in the morning.

"You're a hot mess," he comments teasingly, though there's a fondness in his tone as he guides you to the bed.

You flop down onto the mattress with a groan, the softness of the pillows cushioning against your throbbing head. Jeonghan disappears for a minute to retrieve a bottle of pills from the bathroom and a glass of water from the kitchen, placing it on your bedside table before sitting down beside you, his hand reaching out to brush hair away from your forehead.

You crack open an eye to look at him, feeling yourself trying so hard to not fall asleep on the spot.

"Do... you think they know?"

Jeonghan looks back down at you. "Who?"

"Every... Everyone who came today, uh..." You mutter, motioning the air with your hand. "I didn't... do anything weird out there, right? We haven't really told anyone about us yet..."

Jeonghan purses his lips together, eyelids fluttering as if he's trying to remember the events of the party. He crosses his arms together, and you should probably know from the smirk appearing at his face that𑁋

"Hm, like, weird as in when you tried to kiss me earlier after you sang karaoke? Or𑁋"

"Are you being serious right now?!" There's a long, drawn out unintelligible sound that you whine as you bury your face into the pillow, the cool fabric soothing against your flushed cheeks. "Oh my god, I'm so stupid..."

"My love, I still don't entirely understand why we have to hide it," Jeonghan says gently, his fingers trailing lightly along your arm. "Your affection is pretty obvious, you know."

You snort at that, but you can't really deny it anyway since yeah, you are pretty affectionate with him. And it isn't that you don't want people to know. The thought of people knowing is completely fine, but it's really just that your friends can be absolute nutcases sometimes, and you really don't want to be at the teasing end of the stick right now when all you want is a bit of privacy, at least in the beginning.

"I just... I want you all to myself, you know?" You ramble drowsily, words still slightly slurred. "Just wanna... um, keep this between us for now. N-Not that I'm ashamed or anything, I just... want this to be ours."

Jeonghan lets his eyes take you in for a few moments, a soft look gracing over his features. He glances down at the way his hand seems to seems to instinctively find yours, your fingers intertwining loosely. Frankly, he’s already yours𑁋been yours from the moment the thought of you started to become a frequent visitor to his head.

"Of course," he assures lightly, not taking his eyes off you even while adjusting the pillows so you're in a more comfortable position. "Get some sleep now, okay?"

"M'kay," You utter out, feeling the weight of the bed lift when Jeonghan stands up. Yet as a thought crosses your mind, you call out to him, "Jeonghan?"

He pauses, turning back to look at you with gentle eyes.

"I... I do love you, you know," You confess slowly, almost hesitantly, like that small flicker of sobriety had finally peeked through the haze of alcohol. "Even if I'm shit at showing it."

Jeonghan feels his heart racing in his chest, and the heat flaring at the tips of his ears. On the surface, it's normally hard to detect such reactions to whatever loving, cheesy, romantic stuff you've said to him (since usually, he'd rather tease you into the grave instead). But on the inside, his heart is practically doing cartwheels, somersaults, and backflips all at once𑁋he would quite literally do anything for you.

"Are you going to remember any of this in the morning?" he remarks playfully.

You only shrug loosely, eyelids drooping from exhaustion. "I might... maybe. But, uh, at least you know, right?"

His lips just curl up lovingly. Even if you don’t remember it, those three words would be the first things he would say every morning anyway.

"I love you too, angel," he says against the skin of your temple. "Happy birthday."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @tanya596carat @starshuas @totomoshi

[lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me]

is it casual now? ♪ nishimura riki

warnings: angst, fluff (kinda), female! reader, pet names, mentions of kissing, riki’s an asshole lowkey, situationship (???), i think that’s it!

part 2

luckys note!: i was listening to casual by chappell roan and i was like UGH i need to write something based off this song i love it sm. I <3 CHAPPELL ROAN!!! i hope you all liked it even thought its not much, midnight fiction and jungwon texts coming soon!!

© Ivcky-grl-syndr0me, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

(📍) PERM TAGLIST IS OPEN!

@ivyannemarie @bluuepiphany

(🎀) ANON/EMOJI LIST IS OPEN!

⭐️

dm me or send an ask to be added to either!

[bratbby333]

oh em GEEEE IMAGINE GAMER BF SUKUNA WANTING TO PLAY MINECRAFT W YOU BUT HES STUBBORN SO HE DOESNT ADMIT IT BUT YOU CATCH HIM PLAYING BY HIMSELF ON HIS OWN PC AND YOU TEASE HIM SAYING HE COULDVE JUST ASKED 💔💔💔💔💔

gamer!bf sukuna fluff—sfw !! cw: language. smau + blurb

with a quick kiss on your forehead, sukuna informs you he’s running competitive games on COD for a cash prize and emphasizes that he needs you to leave him alone so he can focus. god, he can be such a diva.

you’ve been curled up on the couch for an hour or so, aimlessly scrolling through your phone. sukuna is holed up in the office, most likely talking shit and being a menace online.

a brief yell echoes through your apartment, followed by a quick slam of his fists against his desk.

“im done with this shit,” he exclaims, most likely quitting the game he was in. it seems he didn’t win his competition.

you giggle to yourself, shaking your head. you find it amusing how angry he gets during his games. but, you do feel a bit bad that he lost, so you decide to invite him to a voice call on discord.

as you navigate to your private chat with him, you watch as his status changes from “playing COD” to…wait. that can’t be right…minecraft? no way. that’s impossible.

you give it 30 minutes to see if it was just an accidental click. when you check back, his status remains the same.

you smirk as you open up your messages, eager to see if he’ll confess.

you giggle to yourself as you stand from the couch, taking quick steps down the hall.

as you push open the office door, a cheeky grin can’t help but pull at your cheeks as you approach him.

you join him at the desk, taking a seat in front of your monitor. “you’re so stubborn, ya know that?”

“i told you not to speak of this ever again,” he muttered, aimlessly walking around minecraft as he waits for your computer to boot up.

“lemme just hear you say it,” you tease.

“say what?” he asks, turning to face you, a look of annoyance on his face at your adamance to continue this conversation.

“you like minecraft,” you replied simply, raising your eyebrows. “just admit it and i’ll never say another word.”

he stared at your for a minute, his jaw clenching and unclenching. with a heavy sigh, he turns back to his monitor, grumbling an almost inaudible, “i like minecraft,” with a roll of his eyes.

but it’s a lie. a dirty little secret. he doesn’t just like it, he loves it. he especially loves how happy you get when the two of you play together, as much as he tries to deny it.

the two of you spend the next three hours running around minecraft. sukuna is clearly enjoying himself, though you can tell he’s attempting to hide it with an abrupt clear of his throat or a quick cough to cover up his laughter.

a warm feeling spins around your stomach, giggling as you watch him fight back a persistent smile the entire time.

an: thank you for your request my sweet anon. this was adorable.

i really want to start doing smau’s ugh they’re just so cute and fun to make. i have a full-length fic coming up that incorporates them into the story!! this is my way of experimenting w that format…please let me know what you think! in a way, i feel like it makes the story more real.

thank you for all your support 🥺🫶🏼 i wanna give every single one of yall a big ole smooch on the forehead

my asks are always open. don’t be shy, drop a suggestion, send feedback, leave a request, or just come say hello! i love talking to yall 💛

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated !!

bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[slytherinshua]

BOYNEXTDOOR WITH KIDS !

summary. you invited your boyfriend to help you babysit! here's how he does. genre. fluff. warnings. kids but nothing else. not proofread. pairing. boynextdoor x fem!reader. wc. 675. request. originally a request from lovely 💗 anon for bonedo x baby fever gf reader. i kinda tweaked it a bit to be bnd with kids but implied that reader still has baby fever which is why they babysit <33 a/n. ugh i wish these were a bit better idk i tried my best!! i literally started writing it out as baby fever reader but then i was stumped how to do it differently for all 6 of them so... i hope this is alright ??? net. @onedoornet

PARK SUNGHO ﾐ 박성호

Sungho would do so well with the little girls you babysit. He would be so down to have a princess tea party with them, and they immediately are in love with him from that moment on. I can see them berating you two with questions about your relationship, especially if the girls were around 4 or 5. They successfully get Sungho to admit that yes he’s in love with you and yes he does plan to marry you someday (if he said no then the girls would have said true love was dead). They plead you to invite Sungho over again to play because they had such a good time. 

LEE SANGHYEOK ﾐ 이상혁

Riwoo is hesitant. He has no idea whether the kids will like him, much less if he would be any good with them. He hasn’t had much opportunity to be around children or babies, so he’s very cautious. He lets them take the lead, but soon finds that it’s easy to entertain them by challenging them to a dance battle or playing just dance lol. He’d probably win over the kids favour by buying them donut holes as well. Overall, he’s pleasantly surprised at how well it went, and maybe he understands your chronic baby fever just a little more now.

MYUNG JAEHYUN ﾐ 명재현

Jaehyun is best with little kids ages 3 and up. His energy matches them so well and he loves to play with them. His imagination also matches that of a little kid, so nothing is out of reach. Whether it’s playing with toys, a board game, or play pretend, he is fully invested in it. Every time he hangs out with the kids you take care of, he ends the day completely exhausted. But you know he had so much fun with the little ones. You just might have to recharge him with a long cuddle sessions cause he swears 6 hours of dance practice is less intensive than 1 afternoon of babysitting.  

HAN DONGMIN ﾐ 한동민

Surprisingly he is the number 1 match for your baby fever. He adores babies, especially the infants that you babysit. He loves to hold them, and they love to be held by him even more. His calm demeanour is very soothing for them. I could see any baby falling asleep in his lap super easily. His prior experience with his sister also helps. He knows how to be gentle and patient with kids, and really understands exactly what they need. In his mind there really isn’t anything cuter than babies :( He talks in a slight baby voice to them as well, he really can’t help it. 

KIM DONGHYUN ﾐ 김동현

I think Leehan would struggle the most. If there’s no common ground between him and the kids, it’ll be hard. But, if any of the kids you babysit are just slightly as weird as Leehan, good luck trying to separate them. I think he would definitely love to draw with the kids, but make sure he is not making any food for them. He’d be unable to say no to whatever they wanted, and they'd either get sick on sweets or sick from impulsively wanting to try his fish food. Then he'll probably be banned from ever going near them again by their parents. Although he doesn’t really get the appeal of little kids, he does admit that it was fun at times to hang out with them. He leaves the babysitting job to you, though.

KIM WOONHAK ﾐ 김운학

Woonhak is so good with kids omg!! At the beginning, he matches their energy so well, but he crashes so fast as well. He would accidentally make jokes that the kids take entirely seriously and end up having to comfort them when they cry. But, despite his mistakes, he’s great at rallying all the kids and being the leader for group activities. If you were babysitting 3+ kids at once, he could definitely help keep track of them all and keep them busy. He doesn’t feel confident with babies, though, as he’s worried he might do something wrong. They’re just so fragile and definitely outside of his comfort zone. 

↳ boynextdoor taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @rizzshimura,, @captivq,, @icyminghao,, @eternalgyu,, @metalchick529,,

@schmocolateschmchip,, @kpoprhia,, @candewlsy,, @weird-bookworm,, @blossominghunnie,,

@kangtaehyunzzz,, @snowflakemoon3,, @lovialy,, @lecheugo,, @okshu,,

@wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @emmylksblog,,

@talkingsaxy,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @dimplewonie,,

@hrtsvivis,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @kristianities,, @gong-fourz,,

@nonononranghaee

[miclipse]

IM SCREAMING ur new raf fic with him being a literal fish WAS SO DANG CUTE ugh towards the end where he finally starts to warm up to her i wish he could give her a hug but he is technically a fish so KDKDKD

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ a fish's embrace.

pairing: rafayel x fem! reader

synopsis: how do fishes give hugs? well, this is how rafayel does it.

word count: 1.8k

cw: afab! reader, rafayel is a fish (literally), reader is a princess, slight angst/comfort, fluff, slight mentions of death.

note: hear me out anon... you kept me up at night with this. read this first for context!! comments appreciated <3

“hi fifi, how’s your day?”

the familiar sight of you lowering yourself to sit on the chair and peering into his fishtank caught rafayel’s attention.

rafayel swam out of the coral he usually hid himself in, a trail of bubbles following behind him as his tail flapped left and right.

well, there was only so much rafayel could do everyday in this fishtank. some include performing his everyday underwater stretches and somersaults, as well as gobble up the pellets you would pour into his tank during meal times.

although rafayel does not mind being a domestic pet to a princess, he was a social fish— or what humans would call an extrovert. and isolating him in a fishtank with no other companions really had a toll on his mental health (yes, fishes have them too).

well, he had you. but conversations with you were one-sided. he tried communicating with you verbally, hoping you possessed some sort of special power that allowed you to speak to animals like those fairytales he would read about when he was still a small fry. but to no avail.

all you understood from him was glub glub glub and a couple of bubbles escaping through his mouth.

some fish could easily live in solitude, but rafayel was not one of them. he loved mingling and talking to other fellow fishes. he may not be fond of socializing all the time, but having a fellow fish to talk to occasionally would be nice.

it had been a while since he last had a proper two-way conversation with a fellow fish. those nights where he would be laughing and joking around with his friends was now replaced with being trapped in an enclosure and listening to you complain about royal affairs he doubted he was even supposed to be aware about.

rafayel learnt from you that the problems humans face was a million times more than the problems fishes like him face. his only concern back when he was still in the ocean was whether he would be a shark’s snack.

“do you ever feel lonely in here?” your sad sigh directed rafayel’s attention back to you. your hair was still wet from your recent shower, making it stick to your neck and leave a damp patch on the nightgown you currently had on. you rested your chin on the palm of your hand, staring into rafayel’s aquatic terrarium with a guilty expression.

rafayel responded with a glub and a couple bubbles coming out of his mouth.

“i was thinking of returning you back to your actual home,”

…wait, what did you just say?

suddenly, rafayel was filled with a sense of dread, his mind running a hundred miles per minute. you were planning to abandon him just like that? it had only been approximately two months (almost coming to three).

he was finally able to convince himself that you were far from those spoiled brats he had heard stories about back when he was a baby fish living in the ocean. was that kind nature of yours nothing but a facade? he thought the two of you were close enough to be honest with each other.

how could you be so cruel to make him develop such a strong sense of attachment and reliability towards you, only for you to want to throw him back into the ocean where you had initially found him?

just when rafayel was contemplating about dramatically leaping out from the top of the tank and perishing right then and there on your study table filled with confidential documents, you spoke again.

“but i don't want to be lonely again.” you whispered, now slumping over your desk with your arm as a cushion for your head. your index finger was absentmindedly tracing shapes and letters against the surface of rafayel's tank.

rafayel stayed still, blinking at you behind the glass and impatiently urging you to continue with what you were implying.

sometimes, he hated it whenever you talked in a way that left so much suspense in the air.

seriously, couldn't you just treat him like an inanimate object and just blurt out whatever that was on your mind? you were acting as if you were waiting for his response, and it made him feel annoyed to a certain extent.

it wasn't like you could understand him even if he were to respond to you anyways. all you could hear was glub glub glub.

“you're the only one that i can confide in. if you're gone, i don't know what to do anymore.”

you sounded… pitiful.

everyone would have thought being a princess was full of a life of privileges, fun and riches. but no one ever saw the harsh reality beneath the beautiful facade of your life.

rafayel wasn't sure if this was the life of every princess to exist, but if it really was the case, then every princess definitely led a miserable life.

the only difference between you and other princesses was that not all of them necessarily had a pet fish that they could turn to during times like this.

“you probably think i'm selfish, huh?” you mumbled to rafayel with a small smile, a faint chuckle escaping your lips. “holding you hostage in my tank just so i have someone to talk to.”

you've perfectly read rafayel's mind, the only flaw was that your mind reading seemed to have a two month delay.

two months ago, if you were to say the same exact words as you did just a few seconds ago, rafayel would have agreed with you in a heartbeat.

but things were different now. much, much different.

rafayel was a social fish. he missed being able to talk and have people (or fishes) actually understand what he was saying. he missed spending his nights keeping his fellow fish companions awake as they all told each other stories of what they've encountered while swimming around in the oceans during the day.

but if given the opportunity to choose between a life of solitude in your bedroom and swimming around aimlessly in the oceans, he would choose this life.

rafayel would choose you over and over again in a hundred lifetimes.

occasionally during the day when you were away for your royal duties, rafayel would think about this alot (not that he had anything else to do in here).

he had come to realise that when he were to eventually die one day, he'd much rather die here in this fishtank as compared to dying in the vast abyss of the ocean, where he wouldn't even know what was to happen to his carcass after his heart stopped beating. the most realistic scenario was that he would be eaten up by a shark or another hungry fish in the waters, but even just the thought of that sent shivers down the fish’s spine.

sure, rafayel had fish friends out there in the ocean, but who was to say that they hadn't already been devoured by other sea creatures?

a life out in the wild was always accompanied by danger, and rafayel was at an even greater disadvantage with his size as compared to the other animals living alongside him in the waters.

at least if he died here, he knew he would be remembered by you. he hated to think that he could no longer comfort and be there for you the day you would cry and weep over his passing, but he knew that he would forever live on in your heart at the very least.

the two of you were just a pair of lonely souls trying to heal each other despite your difficulties communicating to each other. rafayel was here for you to vent your frustrations of life as a princess, and you would be here to keep rafayel safe and remembered.

with you, rafayel had an identity. he was no longer a lost and stray fish swimming around in the ocean, worrying constantly of when he would be gobbled up.

he was your biggest treasure, your beloved fifi.

with him, you could put down the invisible crown along with the shackles of your status. you weren’t a princess, you weren’t the girl getting lectured and scolded by your parents for your misconduct. you were just an ordinary girl who absolutely adored her pet fish and cuddled with her plushies.

perhaps the two of you did have some similarities.

despite the many differences the two of you had, it was the small similarities you two shared that made your bond with each other so strong even with the lack of verbal communication.

that's right. the bond between you and rafayel was so strong that you both didn't even need verbal communication to come to a mutual understanding.

“i love you, fifi.”

hearing your declaration of love made rafayel feel all fuzzy inside today. perhaps it was because of how vulnerable the conversation (or monologue) was tonight, but he felt extra affectionate towards you today.

you slowly dipped the pad of your index finger into the tank, putting into careful consideration not to frighten rafayel away with any sudden movements.

rafayel tilted his head up to look at your index finger slowly sinking into the tank. you never moved your index finger towards him, you always left your finger in the middle of the tank to wait for him to approach you if he felt like it.

rafayel greatly respected that about you.

slowly swimming up towards your finger, he could picture the smile slowly growing on your face without even needing to turn to look at you.

although rafayel may be a fish, he would definitely put in an effort to show you that he loves you too.

rafayel used his bottom fins to wrap around your finger as a way to give you a hug.

a soft gasp could be heard, and you tried to contain your excitement but rafayel could feel how your finger was trembling with happiness as you tried not to make any sudden movements that'll frighten him away from you.

the both of you remained in this state for a few moments, enjoying the silence. rafayel was initially unsure of how you would react to him attempting to hug you, but his worries about that dissipated the moment he saw the expression on your face.

rafayel had no way to describe the way you were staring at him, but he could read what was currently in your mind.

thank you for loving me too, fifi.

and a part of him felt satisfied that his mind reading skills was much better than yours, because at least he could beat you at something.

as rafayel’s fins continued hugging your finger, he smiled faintly to himself. so this was how it felt to hug a human, huh?

tonight, he was not rafayel. he was not the fish that lived in the wild, loving freedom and dangerous adventures.

tonight, he was fifi. the princess’s beloved pet fish that she loved immeasurably.

all rights reserved © miclipse 2024. do not repost, plagiarize, copy, modify or translate my works on any platforms.

[kkuzushi]

Aftercare scaramouche after that intense love making and then date? :00

..... And the "will you marry me" HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH— yes fluff yeseyssyeysyeyysysyeysjdutnd thank you for taking this :3

-🎐 anon

“ 𝗚𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗽 𝗦𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆..𝗶𝗻 𝗕𝗲𝗱 ”

✦ characters: scaramouche x gn!reader

✦ cw: aftercare, fluff, rivals to lovers type of stuff, reader without cat allergies (I’m sorry TT)

✦ word count: 1.824k

✦ notes: My dearest 🎐anon is back with the banger requests. This was really fun to write (I finished at 3am) though I improvised on the “will you marry me” part since I wasn’t sure what you meant. <3

Part 1 | ✦ Part 2

Hours had passed since your productive activity with Scaramouche—the man had practically fallen asleep after cleaning up the mess with you. He’d go to his room as soon as the both of you are done, he said; He just needs to rest his legs for a moment, he said. Now you have the man laid on your bed, head resting on your lap while you occupied yourself with your studies yet again.

Thankfully, the sleepy brat did have some spare notes in his room and lended it to you, saying he just ‘owed you one’. You dared not to waste this opportunity, and luckily enough, his notes were actually pretty neat. It was easy to understand and precise with the topic.

And strangely enough, this moment is as serene as it could get. It’s been a while since you’ve felt at peace with Scaramouche in the same room. His hair sways gently in the breeze from the fan, framing his tired face. If it were before, you’d be tempted to slap him and ruin his sleep, but now, you simply adore how relaxing it is to be with him.

Your lips curled to a smile before turning to a flat line—You can’t think about Scaramouche like that! He’s still an infuriating prick; arrogant, immature, annoying.. and maybe a tiny bit tolerable when getting fucked—what?

Speaking of the devil, the man on your lap starts to stir awake, grumbling as his eyes open and adjusts to the light of your room. With that familiar scowl, he lifts his head up and sees your gaze fixated on the notes he had given you.

“You're still going at it, huh?” Scaramouche prompts with a groggy tone. He rubbed his eyes with his palm, trying to remember what happened right before he passed out, “How long have I been out..?”

“Just a few.. hours.”

“Hours?”

“Hours.”

“Ugh, I'm so tired.. and my ass hurts,” He complained, nuzzling your legs more though you didn’t point it out knowing it’ll just explode his stubborn head. “This is all your fault.”

“Oh?” You looked down, seeing him scowling at you, “Says the one who was moaning like a bitch in he–”

“I WAS NOT.” Scaramouche quickly interrupted your rebuttal, his face reddening quickly. “I was making perfectly normal sounds when making love to you.”

That almost made you laugh. “Make love? You have a funny way of saying sex,” You grinned, your gaze going back to your notes.

“It’s the same thing,” He rolled his eyes before adding an explanation, “Making love is just a better term, sex is too casual, fucking is too forward.” It was such an old-school term, you can’t believe it was coming from someone like him.

“I didn’t know you were such a romantic,” You commented, browsing through the notes absentmindedly, “Should I be flattered? Or maybe you’re trying to impress me.”

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow and turned his head towards you from your lap. “Impress you? Pshh, that’s rich coming from someone who needed my notes to pass the same classes as me.”

Your eyes narrowed down to his expression, “Mind you that you were the one who also tore my notes apart.”

Scaramouche rolled his eyes, “Whatever, my point still stands.”

The moment drops to silence—Scaramouche’s sarcastic comments were duller then usual, not irritating you to the point you’re both at each other’s throats. Maybe this ‘making love’ thing was getting to you too. Damn this man for being so confusing sometimes.

To surprise yourself even more, your hand travels to his head, stroking his hair that’s been messed up during his nap. He tensed a little before reluctantly leaning to your touch, the way his shoulder slumped was a telltale sign that this is comforting for him as well.

The thought slipped in before you could stop it—Maybe he wasn’t so bad. Maybe you could try something… more.

“Hey,” Scaramouche started, clearing his throat before continuing, though it sounded more like he was contemplating. “Since we... made love,” he added, his voice growing quieter, the pink in his cheeks deepening. “Maybe we should, I don’t know… do something. Together. Tomorrow.”

You paused, “Are you.. asking me out on a date?”

“Don’t make it weird!” He quickly snapped, getting out of your lap as if to get serious, “It just.. wouldn’t feel right to act like nothing happened.. after all we did tonight.”

That was weirdly sweet—Scaramouche not wanting things to be casual after ‘making love’? Maybe he really isn’t so bad after all.

“I suppose I can make time for you tomorrow..” You hummed, attempting to look indifferent though you can feel a smile trying to appear in the corner of your lips.

“Here we are..” Scaramouche says in front of a cat cafe-library. The fact he was the one to lead you here means he goes here often. Cute. And honestly? It wasn’t a bad choice for a first date.

“I didn’t know this was near our university,” You commented as you pushed the door open, the soft jingle of the bell above ringing inside as the both of you entered. “You must be here quite often, huh?”

“Of course not,” Scaramouche scoffed, “I just figured you might like it here.” As soon as he gets beside you inside, a gray Scottish fold cat trotted over to him, nuzzling his legs as it meowed in an affectionate tone.

With a raised eyebrow, you smirked at the sight. “You don’t have to lie. No judgment if this is your go-to for weekends.” You teased, successfully flustering Scaramouche with the accusation. Then again, it’s not really an accusation if it’s true, right?

“I told you—it isn’t!” He grumbled, quickly shooing away the cat, the failed attempt only getting the cute creature to follow him as the both of you get to a comfortable corner—which, again, would be a telltale sign that he’s been here a lot.

“I bet the majority of the books here have your name signed on them already,” You continued, leaning back on the chair with a smug grin.

Scaramouche rolled his eyes at you, his fingers drumming lightly on the menu over the desk. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

Your grin widens as the same cat from earlier leaps on to his lap, the man instinctively scratching the pet behind its ears, “So you’re saying I’m wrong?”

“Of course you’re wrong,” Scaramouche replies with half of his attention, eyes glued to the cat, “I don’t sign every book I read, just the ones that are worth my time.”

Before you could retort with another teasing remark, Scaramouche calls for a waiter to take your orders. You simply chose the first thing you saw on the menu, while Scaramouche ordered his ‘usual’. He's really not pretending anymore, is he?

The waiter leaves as you both place your orders, the two of you engaged in a moment filled with purrs and meows. You watched him continue petting the cat, fingers scratching behind the ears or just brushing the fur from its body. His gaze meets yours, the scrutiny making him flustered quickly.

“I know what you’re thinking—and don’t flatter yourself just because you can see this side of me,” He mumbled, “Just call it damage control.”

“Damage control? Since when did you care about what I think?” You mused with a teasing tone yet with softened expression.

Scaramouche froze for a moment, his hand stilling on the cat’s fur. “I don’t.. but I do care about what would happen after last night.” The admission came out easily, so easy that even Scaramouche was surprised he could confess that to you.

“I see..” You nodded. The waiter came back with only Scaramouche’s drink—his drink being most likely prioritized since he’s a usual customer. Other than that, his drink was just black coffee. You almost forgot the same man you’re talking to isn’t fond of sweets. Once the waiter left, you continued your discussion with him.

“Then what would you want to happen after last night?”

“I’m.. not sure. I just know I don’t want things to be casual afterwards.”

Scaramouche took a sip of his coffee, the tension between you two was increasing and he doesn’t entirely dislike it. “What I’m saying is that it wouldn’t feel right to brush things off after making love with each other.”

You almost envied that he had something to drink while talking about this, it felt awkward to just sit there and take his point all in.

“You really are full of surprises,” You finally replied, resting your cheek on your palm as you leaned forward to the table. “What else should I know about you?”

He looks at you, considering whether your question was rhetorical or not. “I’m a date-to-marry kind of person.” Well that much wasn’t surprising, but it gave you another opportunity to tease him.

“Really? Are you saying you want to get married to me then?” Your familiar grin shows up on your lips again, the tension easing up as you watch Scaramouche gradually get flustered over your joke.

The man quickly snapped at your jest, “Don’t be ridiculous! That’s not–” His voice trails off, clearly too embarrassed to continue his rebuttal. “You’re impossible to have a proper conversation with.” He mumbled at the end.

It really seemed like you’re seeing a different side of your roommate, a side you didn’t think existed—especially not from a man that was either always frustrated or frustrating.

You burst into laughter, both from how adorable and hilarious his reaction is. “I’m kidding,” You say with a wide grin, “But I’d make a great spouse, wouldn’t I?”

“Gods forbid you to be self-aware.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Scaramouche didn’t get to reply once the waiter had finally, finally, arrived with your order. As you took the moment to savor what you’ve gotten, the man in front of you smiled—not from just the sight of you enjoying your food, but most likely from your joke as well.

When your eyes returned to him, Scaramouche was already focused on the cat in his lap again. It made you wonder—if he liked the cat so much, why not adopt it? The cat seemed to like him just fine, after all.

Your eyes shifted around the place, seeing multiple cats lounging or playing with other customers. “Are cat adoptions allowed in this place?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Your question makes him pause for a moment before looking around for a paper that might indicate a solid answer. “I think so, why?”

You shrugged. “If you like that cat so much, we should adopt it.” The words lingered in Scaramouche’s mind. The fact that you said ‘we’ instead of ‘you’; It was a subtle shift, but enough to make the butterflies he’d been trying to drown with black coffee start fluttering again.

Scaramouche then cleared his throat, “So about our marriage..”