#wiggles in place happily

[lightbulb-warning]

a week or so ago i spent like 5+ hours reciting the plot of isat to my friend who doesn't play videogames and it's genuinely the best thing that's ever happened to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[tender-rosiey]

Can u do a drabble with jjk men where their child gets into a physical fight?

"MY KID IS NOT GUILTY, YOUR HONOR!"

— when your kid with gojo, sukuna, nanami, geto, and toji gets into a fight (f!reader)

GOJO SATORU:

your husband happily swings your hands together, as you walk to the principal’s office. meanwhile, you’re worried sick about s/n and what happened to him.

satoru rubs your hand reassuringly before slamming the door open and yelling, “did you win?!”

your eyes widen, but before you interject, s/n replies back enthusiastically, “yes, I did!”

you hurry to your son, kneeling in front of him to check him thoroughly.

you let out a sigh of relief when you see that he isn’t hurt in any way. sensing your distress, he hugs you. “I missed you, mama,” he says, snuggling into your neck.

“me too,” you smile and almost get lost in the moment, but then you hear a camera shutter. you look back and see your husband, holding a camera.

“oops, don’t mind me, hun.”

the dad of the other boy—who you didn’t notice was even there—stands up, livid, “can you take this a bit more seriously?! my son is injured!”

you’re about to reply yourself, but then satoru beats you to it. he stands right in front of the man and looks down at him, “surely, you’re not yelling at my wife, right?”

the man stumbles back into his chair, and satoru stares him down, making him sink even further into the chair.

the mother then speaks to you, “what your son did is unacceptable! look at how my baby is right now!”

looking at the other boy, you decide that the mother has every right to be mad. his nose is bleed profusely. you’re pretty sure it’s broken.

you look at your son and quirk an eyebrow, “s/n? what happened?”

“I was showing my friends the picture I got of you, and he said you were ugly! he can’t do that!”

your husband turns back and gasps, “he did what?!”

as if the dad himself is the one that is getting scolded, his eyes get teary.

meanwhile, you see the mother whispering to the boy, and he nods, ashamed. she looks back at you and says, “however, what your son did is not acceptable.”

“I know that the reaction was a bit much, but what your son did is also unacceptable,” you answer with your son nodding behind you.

“well—can you not be so close to my husband?” she snaps at satoru, whose cursed energy is increasing.

“you and your husband need to get taught a lesson if you raise a kid that’s so stupid he thinks my beautiful, divinie, and drop dead gorgeous wife is ugly,” he states, and the lady finds herself shrinking back beside her husband.

the little boy also scrambles into his parents’ embrace.

you place your hand on satoru’s forearm, and he immediately relaxes.

you smile and press a kiss to his cheek then pat your son’s back before instructing him softly, “you have to apologize for hurting him so much, though, s/n, okay?”

your son, ever the obedient sweetheart when it comes to you, looks at the boy, “I am sorry, but you should be sorry too!”

the other boy nods, crying, “I am sorry!”

your son nods, satisfied with the answer. your husband then picks s/n up and spins him around as he sings his praises, “I am so proud of you for defending mama like that! so so proud!”

the boy grins happily and hugs his dad. satoru then raises his finger, “but you gotta know that people are weak, so we can only do this to them all the time.”

your son nods eagerly, before wiggling to the ground. he runs to you, excited to tell you about his day. you grin and listen to him happily, ignoring the crying family on the other side.

your husband kisses the top of your head before turning to the principal with a smirk, “so, principal, is there anything you would like to say?”

“I am gonna piss myself.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

you dragged sukuna to the principal’s office, after you got a call of a major incident happening involving him. your husband insisted on dismissing it, but you just had a feeling that something is seriously wrong.

you both enter the office, eyes immediately falling on your son who is sitting unbothered on the chair. meanwhile, the principal is resting his elbows on the desk and striking a pose that could only be described as trouble.

when s/n sees you two, his eyes light up, and he runs to give you—and only you—a hug. sukuna scowls, “what about me?”

“you said you don’t like my hugs,” your son huffs, averting his eyes away. sukuna stares at him for a second, before picking him up by the scruff and placing him in his arms.

the boy looks at his dad, shocked, before snuggling into his embrace.

your husband leans his head just a bit on s/n’s head. you both then direct your attention to the waiting principal.

the principal taps his fingers together, but sukuna grumbles, “are you not gonna talk?”

you stifle a giggle—which sukuna notices and you notice the slight smirk now present on his face. the principal looks up at the three of you then speaks slowly, “well, you see…”

he looks up, “your son set my car on fire.”

a few beats pass.

then your husband barks out a laugh, one so hearty that it catches everyone but you off-guard.

the principal looks incredously at sukuna. your son tilts his head in confusion, before sukuna ruffles his hair, “how did you even do that? seriously, that’s my son for you!”

the boy thrives off his dad’s praise, and they get lost in their world, as your son details how he orchestrated everything.

the principal frowns, vexed. he clears his throat to speak up, “sir, I think you might have misheard. I am saying your son��”

“did I ask you to repeat yourself?”

the tone leaves no room for discussion, and it also sends shivers down the principal’s spine. your little boy snickers, and you side-eye him, effectively shutting him up.

the principal shakes his head slowly, then he looks at you for help.

truthfully, the man has every right to be both terrified and offended cause what the hell kinda is able to set a car on fire and act so nonchalant about it? it’s the kinda kid with a dad who backs him up for it.

however, the man assumes that voice of reason is you.

you want to help, but you’re just too tired. so, you smile, “I understand that what happened is harsh, sir,” he lights up, then you continue, “but surely, you can get a new one, right?”

the man pauses and looks at you with wide eyes, before spluttering, “wha—ma’am, you can’t be serious—"

“surely, you. can. get. a. new. one. right?” you glare.

the man nods frantically.

sukuna smirks pridefully, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. he leans his face near your ear and whispers, “my kinda woman.”

you smile and wrap your arm around his waist and squeeze his hip in return. you both exchange affectionate bedroom looks, forgetting about the frightened principal.

meanwhile, s/n looks at you guys, wrorried, and murmurs, “mom, you’re scarier than dad.”

despite what he says, s/n jumps into your arms and nuzzles against your cheek. your husband rolls his eyes with no real annoyance behind them.

with all the courage left in him, the principal smiles nervously and stutters, “you—you can leave now; I sincerely and deeply apologize for the hold up.”

nobody moves an inch.

“…please leave.”

NANAMI KENTO:

you, your husband, and your daughter are now seated in the principal’s office.

you are waiting for the other kid and her parents to come in as well. you’re tapping your feet, restlessly, but kento lays his hand on your knee and rubs it gently.

he nods at you, and you smile.

you know your daughter would never fight unprovoked. said daughter gets off her chair and climbs into your lap. she hugs you tightly, and you instantly start petting her hair.

she lets a small sigh, but then the principal enters the office with the other parents in toe. you see your husband’s eyes narrow, before he leans close to d/n and asks gently, “isn’t that the girl you said was bullying your friend?”

your daughter nods intensely and whispers back, “she was about to hit her today, and you told me not to let people bully others! that’s why I hit her.”

you pat her head, and she grins. kento hums then nods, “I get that, but couldn’t you get a teacher, sweetheart?”

“the teacher would’ve taken too long!” your daughter huffs, and she is right. but, there still is a lesson that she needs to understand.

the principal clears his throat and sits in his chair. “well mr. and mrs. nanami, your daughter has inflicted pain on a friend of hers—”

“bullies aren’t my friends!”

good saying, but this probably isn’t the time. you pat her back, and she instantly understands what you mean, so she—begrudgingly—calms down.

the principal continues, “as I was saying, she hit her classmate, and as you can see, it left a bruise. such violent acts are prohibited in this respected establishment.”

“shouldn’t bullying be prohibited as well?” you ask, and the man splutters.

“that doesn’t happen—”

“i can assure you that my wife is speaking the truth,” kento backs you up, “if you would like, we can check the cameras or what the teachers say regarding the environment you’re fostering.”

your daughter’s head starts spinning from the big words.

your husband places a hand on the top of her head before resuming, “while I acknowledge that my daughter shouldn’t have been physical in defending her friend, you ought to acknowledge that what the other girl did was also unacceptable.”

“and since you want to solve the root of the problem, shouldn’t you punish the one that did the bullying and warranted my daughter to act in defense?” you press on, and the principal gulps.

the father of the girl stands up, “my princess would do no such thing—”

“your record isn’t that pretty either, so I suggest you sit down,” you say with a smile, and it does the trick. the man immediately sticks to his wife—who has said nothing, and you assume it’s because she knew what her daughter did.

everybody keeps staring at each other for a while, with your daughter having a staring contest with the other girl.

“we will deal with our daughter accordingly,” kento speaks up as he stands up, straightening his suit, “but we expect that the girl is also held accountable for her shameful actions. thank you.”

you and d/n get up, and the three of you exit the office—like icons. kento holds your hand and d/n’s, and you giggle, “did you see how they looked?”

“should you be encouraging d/n about laughing at others?” your husband asks with a small quirk of his eyebrow. you nod confidently.

“if they’re rude then yes!”

he shakes his head helplessly with a smile. then your daughter looks up to kento as you are walking and says excitedly, “dad, I won!”

your husband looks down at her then smiles gently, nodding as he gives her a thumbs up. you raise your eyebrows and gasp lowly, “hypocrisy?”

“hmm, I don’t know.”

GETO SUGURU:

your daughters hang off their dad’s back as you guys head to the principal’s office. they squeal and giggle, and suguru has an ever-permanent smile.

he is holding onto your hand gently and says, “don’t worry; I doubt that the girls actually caused damage.”

“I know, but what I am curious about is why they would get into something,” you reply, pensive, “I know my daughters very well,” you smile, and the girls grin.

they start chanting your name, clapping, and saying I love you a million times.

you open the door slowly and are met with the principal standing in front of his desk and a girl standing on top of it. your eyebrows furrow in confusion, as you all enter.

your husband wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. he tilts his head, “so, what’s wrong?”

the man drums his fingers on the desk, leaning back, “your daughters have ganged up on my daughter.”

the both of you take a moment to examine the girl from afar. there seems nothing wrong with her: no bruise, no blood, no nothing.

you exchange looks, and you take the turn to speak up, “your daughter looks okay to me.”

the man huffs and crosses his arms, “she was hurt emotionally! severely too!”

the girl nods strongly and pouts. her dad gasps and hugs her. he then starts coddling her before asking her, “what did they say to you, sugarplum?”

“they said that I looked like a mole rat, daddy!” she replies, hand on her chest as she ‘falls’ to her knees, “and—and that’s only one of the many bad things they said!”

the man gasps yet again and starts comforting her.

you and your husband let out a snort, barely containing your laughter. the girls puff their chest in confidence. you and suguru look at each other with a poorly hidden grin, and you get caught.

the man fumes, “you’re laughing at my dear sweet princess sugar?!”

“no, we are laughing at the insult,” you reply.

“it’s quite creative,” suguru chuckles before turning to the girls who have long let go of him. he kneels down and asks them, “why did you guys do that?”

“she pulled my hair!” one of the twins spoke.

the other chimes in, “and she made fun of me.”

“oh.”

just from that word alone, you can tell which path your husband is gonna take in continuing this conversation. you have a half a mind to make him summon rainbow dragon to take you home.

you just wanted to know the reason, and suguru is probably never going to leave it at that. forget how ‘calm’ he usually is, his family should never be insulted.

“…see, this why you’re all a bunch of monkeys.”

“monkeys!!” the twins scream in unison.

this time both the principal and the daughter gasp incredulously. your secretly a diva of a husband carries your girls then holds your hand before exiting the office.

he walks in silence, and you quirk an eyebrow, “so, what are you going to do, mister ‘filthy monkeys’?”

“I have a feeling that you’re making fun of me, honey.”

“and that feeling would be right.”

the girls settle on his shoulders, freeing his arms, and he takes the chance to tickle you. you squeal, “suguru, stop! I am serious! not in public!”

“but you’re being mean, sweetheart,” he mock pouts, “such bad things you’re saying.”

your roll your eyes, and you guys continue on your merry way back home.

that event passed by like a breeze, but for some reason, the school has been appointed a new principal because the last one went missing.

I wonder why.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

“relax, ma,” your husband says as he rubs your shoulder in hopes of comforting you, “the kid is surely fine; he is our son after all.”

“I know, toji! but what if he did get hurt?” you fret then scowl, “I swear to god, if they harm a single hair on megumi’s head, I will make them wish they were never born!”

toji smirks lightly and ruffles your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, before opening the door. he sees megumi sat, arms crossed and frowning.

involuntary, toji lets out a sigh of relief, and you waste no time in going to your son and checking on him, bombarding him with questions.

“did you get hurt?”

“no.”

“did he hurt you?”

“no.”

“are you okay?”

“yes.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, mom, I am fine,” megumi murmurs, cheeks heating up at your affection. toji chuckles at the display before looking at the principal.

the man purses his lips before sighing, “your son has beaten up jay.”

you and your husband blink silently. then your husband tilts his head, “who?”

the principal grits his teeth before standing up. he crosses his arms before huffing, “jay, the son of the town’s mayor! that boy is as important as his father, yet your son has so brazenly hurt him!”

you frown, “I don’t care who he is, and I am sure that my son won’t hit somebody for no reason!”

megumi nods, and you smile at him.

you pat his hair gently, and he reluctantly leans into the affection. meanwhile, toji has been listening silently before turning to megumi and asking, “who the hell is that?”

“the one with the sea slug hair,” he replies instantly. you let out a hum of recognition.

your husband stares blankly before he clicks his finger, “oh,” he then looks at megumi and ruffles his hair with a small grin, “I hated that kid’s dad—good job.”

megumi lets out a small smile before giving his dad a thumbs up. you roll your eyes with no real annoyance behind them and side-eye toji.

toji chuckles then looks at the fuming principal. the man, now red in the face, yells, “mr fushiguro, that is unacceptable behavior from both you and your son!”

“…okay?”

you shake your head and usher megumi out of the room. you and toji share a look, before you close the door. the moment it clicks, your husband turns to the principal with a blank face.

he takes a few steps, stopping right in front of the man. toji grabs the principal’s shoulder then speaks lowly, “you won’t speak of this, ‘kay?”

he nods frantically, face contorting as he tries to compose himself. toji smirks and heads to the door with a small wave, “see ya never, teach.”

your husband finds you and megumi in the school’s garden.

he sees megumi and yuuji—his friend—playing together, while you relax on the bench. for some reason, toji feels a wave of warmth flood his chest as when he sees you and megumi smiling.

yuuji yells something to you that makes you laugh heartily. toji feels himself relax and smile just slightly. it’s moments like these he feels ever so grateful to have you in his life.

and he swears to forever protect you and megumi. he has acknowledged a long time ago that his only wish is to be by your side.

that’s why, in no time, he is behind you, effectively blocking the sun. you look up from where you’re sat to your husband.

“hey pretty,” he hums.

you chuckle as he rests his elbows on the bench, “slain?”

he grins, “slain.”

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[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

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[devil-in-hiding]

Who in EC!141 is a: tits guy, ass guy, pussy guy, stomach guy, thighs guy?

soap is a tits guy and you can’t change my mind, he will happily smother himself in farmer!readers tits, eyes fluttering as he loses air to his brain until you slap him upside the head, blushing to the tips of your ears. Openly ogles whenever you wear something that really shows off the mommy milkers, will place on high shelves to watch your tits jiggle while you try to jump to reach it

Ghost is an ass and thighs man, his favorite thing to do to pass the time after he has finished his load of chores is sit back in his claimed recliner, kick back and watch you work about, reaching up and letting your shorts ride up, bending over and giving him the perfect view of your ass wiggling in the air as you dust something on a lower shelf

Gaz is a stomach and thighs man, cuddling is just about hell because he will drag those big paws all over your body. love digging his nails into the soft skin of your thighs, watching color bloom under his touch as you start to squirm. ahem this man loves to watch the way your tummy jiggles while he’s splitting you open on his cock

Price will happily die face first between your legs, tongue buried in your dripping pussy while you hold his face there. If he could get hearts in his eyes he would when he gazes at your pretty pussy, talks about it like she is her own person who deserves his praises, this man will hold you down and make out with your pussy till your voice is hoarse from screaming

[rainydayathogwarts]

The team discovers you're dating - Aaron Hotchner

d/n: daughter's name.. Summary: The team discovers you're dating because of Jack's freudian slip. (singlemom!bau!reader) 0.7k wc

Small trudging footsteps paired with loud squeals caught the attention of the agents in the bullpen, an apologetic SSA following after his son. Derek and Penelope raced to the young boy, Derek scooping him up the second he was close enough, beating his work wife by seconds. "I'm sorry guys, national holiday and our sitter cancelled." The team dismissed him, understanding of his protectiveness over his son. After seeing so many cases, there was no way he'd let a random person look after his son. "I'll take him down to the daycare in a second, but Jack here just wanted to say hello to someone first."

Derek exaggeratedly frowned, looking down at the blonde boy "Is uncle Derek not the person you were looking for Jacky boy?" Jack shook his head, loud giggles filling the bullpen, just as the glass door opened one more. "Sorry guys," You started, trying to flip strands of hair out of your face while balancing your coffee and keeping your bag on your shoulder. "I had to drop d/n at daycare, sitter cancelled." You gasped loudly when you spotted the small figure in Derek's arms, placing all your things on the closest desk as you opened your arms wide. Jack wiggled his legs in Derek's arms so he could be put down on the floor, a wide smile gracing his features. You crouched down on the floor, grinning at the boy, who yelled loudly "Mommy!" as he ran into your arms.

An eerie silence filled the bullpen as all conversation died down. You wrapped your arms around the boy, his words sinking into your teammates' heads. You lifted Jack up into the air with a clueless smile, standing tall enough so you could see all of your coworkers' facial expressions, when it hit you. Your eyes widened and you froze, past the point of collecting yourself or trying to brush off what Jack said as an accident.

"What did he just say?" You hear Penelope interrogate, looking back and forth between the profilers in the room, hoping to get an answer. As though sensing the change in atmosphere in the room, Jack lifted his head from the crook of your neck, looking up at your face. You moved your stance to balance him on your hip, using the other hand to pick up your to-go cup and take a long sip of your coffee. "You wanna try my coffee Jack?" You teased, breaking the silence between you and him, laughing as the boy pulled a face of disgust, remembering the time he smelt his dad's black coffee one morning when you were over with d/n.

"Yuck! ... Mommy, am I gonna see d/n?" He asks, swinging his legs happily. You're painfully aware of the eyes stuck on you and the boy, glancing up to look at Aaron, observing his reaction. He's smiling softly at you and his son, back turned to the other agents in the bullpen. He walks over to you just as you reply to Jack "She's in daycare right now! Do you want to go join her?" Jack nods excitedly, arms lifting up when his dad walks over, allowing him to take him from you. "Well since the cat's out of the bag." Aaron shrugs, leaning down to press a kiss on your lips, walking out with Jack in his arms who giggles loudly "What cat daddy?"

With Jack finally facing away from you, you let all your emotions show up on your face: shock, confusion, and most importantly embarrassment to being exposed to your relentless team of close friends who will never stop the questions:

'How long?' 'Jack calls you mommy?' 'Don't you owe me money Morgan?'

You laugh at Spencer's comment, watching as Derek fishes his wallet out of his pocket, holding up a 20 dollar bill for Spencer to take. Rossi pushes himself off the desk behind him, where he faces Emily and the rest of the team. He sighs, shaking his head "For the record, I knew his whole time. And at least now you don't have to hide your ring, y/n." He states as he walks away. "You're married!?" Emily and JJ yell at the same time as Penny squeals loudly, running to hug you tightly. "Engaged!" You try saying over the noise. "Engaged not married!"

[aakeysmash]

college!sukuna lives literally next door. you live in one of those apartment complexes where you rent a room and then have a common kitchen, bathroom and stuff with your almost-roommates inside of a bigger complex made of apartments just like yours, for students only.

if it wasn't for his 9 year old brother yuuji, who casually lives across from your room (wasn't this place for college students?) and is the literal definition of a ray of sunshine, you'd hate his guts. sure, he's hot for a guy who looks like he's failing half of his classes and makes sure you hear every single one of the girls he brings into his room at night, but he's still a major pain in your ass.

"where the hell do you think you're going?" he tells his brother, leaning on his door, arms crossed. the child is rushing to put his shoes on and zipping his sweater up.

"yn said she's going to take me running!" he responds grinning, tripping on his own feet from how excited he is before softly knocking on your door, all while sukuna looks at him raising one eyebrow.

"i'm starting to think you like her more than me, brat," he grits out just as you get out.

"oh he does, he just doesn't want to hurt your feelings by saying it," you rub in his face without sparing him a glance. he huffs and rolls his eyes, really wanting to punch you in the face. you ignore him and smile at yuuji, getting at his eye level.

"ready? whoever gets tired last will be the first player tonight in mario kart," you say wiggling your eyebrows.

"deal!" he squeals happily before running out the door. you know he's going to wait for you, he's a good kid, he's not going to run away. he's more mature than any 9 year old should be.

"y'know, if you needed some cardio you could've come in my room," sukuna tells you coming closer and looking you up and down. you have this cute set on that is making him salivate, but he still maintains some kind of distance.

"on my dead body, itadori senior," you lightly push him out of the way and go back into your room to get your bag.

"come on, i'll even push your head in the sheets so as not to look at your annoying ass face," he remarks, and you shoot him a dirty glance. he flips you off.

"can you talk about something that doesn't make me want to rip my ears off?" you mumble while searching for your house keys.

"i can talk about how i'll break your neck if you don't bring back my brother in two hours, if you want," he says, looking at you from the doorway, bored.

"he still likes me more."

"when you get home there will be another lock, bitch."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Teenage Dirtbag III

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: You get a job

The mural appears on the building in the middle of the night but it's on the morning news show that moment the sun comes up.

You stubbornly ignore the screen as you stare down at your bowl of cereal, the smallest of smiles on your face as you offer a dry cornflake to little Vince, who takes it and scampers off to eat it at the other end of the table.

"I wish you wouldn't let him up there," Mapi says and you roll your eyes.

"You let Bagheera up here."

"That's different."

"Is it because he's a boy? Is that it?"

Mapi lets out a little bark of laughter for a moment before flicking you in the ear. "I'm worried he's going to fall and hurt himself."

Your kitten peers over the edge of the table after eating his cereal, little legs wiggling in preparation to leap as his half ear flicks happily.

"I think he's survived worse."

Mapi rolls her eyes, plucking Vince off the table and placing him on the floor before she makes her morning coffee.

Ingrid's the one watching the news, her brow furrowed as she listens to the report.

"Well," You say, pushing out and up from the table," I'm going to head to school. I'll see you later."

Ingrid's eyes narrow at your abrupt exit and you don't slow down enough for her to open her mouth.

The path to your school is a familiar one, a fancy private school that Ingrid probably pays an extortionate fee to send you to but is still leagues above the boarding school you used to attend in Norway.

But you've still got a blazer to wear and a shirt and tie - not even one of those clip on ones. It's a proper tie that you've got to tie everyday.

Your skateboard wheels roll over the pavement, earphones thumping with music, as you approach the building. There's a teacher at the gate and they give you a look of disapproval as you come rolling past.

"Hoodie off, Engen," They say," You know the rules."

You roll your eyes as you continue on your way, making a show of stripping off the hoodie you've got on under your blazer just as you make it through the double doors - where it goes straight back on again.

School in Spain isn't really that different to school in Norway apart from the fact that everyone's speaking Spanish.

That's not really difficult either - Spanish that is. You've already got Norwegian and English, and Spanish wasn't really too complex of a language to learn either.

Sure, you've got a bit of an accent and sometimes have to take a moment to think through your grammar but it's nothing that makes it impossible to communicate.

"Off the skateboard, Engen," Another teacher says as you ride down the corridor on your board.

"Will do," You lie through your teeth.

The speed of your skateboard is the only thing keeping you away from the gaggle of girls that follow your every move.

Back at home, Mapi thinks it's hilarious. Ingrid says it's sweet.

You think it's annoying. It's bad enough to appear in the middle of the school year and have everyone automatically know who you are. It's worse when a group of giggling girls try to follow you around all the time. You kind of just want to fade into the background.

"I thought the teacher just asked you to get off that skateboard?"

You roll to a stop in front of one of the prefects.

"I mean...they didn't exactly say when I was meant to get off the skateboard? Just that I should get off it?"

She rolls her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. "You know what they meant."

"Do you ever get tired of being so stuck up?" You ask with a cheeky grin.

"Do you ever get tired of pushing boundaries?"

You shrug. "It's part of my charm."

"Yeah, charm," She scoffs," Let's call it that. You know, I should write you up for dress code. You know you're not meant to wear hoodies to school."

"So I've been told."

"Or trainers."

"They're comfortable."

"Or leave your tie undone."

"I don't like the feeling on my neck."

"And that hairband? Black only."

"What? So I can't wear a red hair tie but you can wear pink ribbons? How's that fair?!"

"So now you're trying to fight with me about it?" She asks, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards," I really should write you up."

Your eyes narrow, nose scrunching up. "You're teasing me."

"What gave it away?"

"I hate you."

"No you don't, Engen. But I do have a note that I was meant to give you during registration. Here, you're excused after lunch. Your sisters are picking you up."

You stare down at the note from the office in your hand as she walks off with her stupid pastel pink hair ribbons.

"Hey! Mapi's not my sister!" You yell after her but she doesn't stop to argue with you about it.

You kind of wish she did.

You shake that thought away though, tucking your skateboard safely under your arm as you make your way over to registration.

School is boring like it always is, even though Ingrid's insisted on them giving you challenging work in the hope of keeping you engaged. She doesn't need to know that you're still skipping classes to hang out in the art rooms with that one eccentric art teacher that can't remember your name but does know the exact brand of spray paint that you love.

You're more than happy to sign yourself out for the day with your hood flipped up as you make your way over to Ingrid's car.

You take a glance back at the building, up to the second floor where that girl is sitting with her stupid pink ribbons, staring bored outside of the History class window.

You know she sees you and you know she sees you put your middle fingers up at her.

"Do you have to do that?" Ingrid asks as you slide into the back seat, slamming the door closed behind you. "You're going to ruin my doors."

"The club will just give you a new car," You say dismissively, plugging your phone into one of Mapi's many chargers. "So...Why am I being let out early?"

"We can't want to do something nice for you?" Ingrid hums, pulling out of the school gates and onto the road.

"Not at lunchtime on a Tuesday," You reply and Mapi snickers in the passenger seat," Don't you guys have training or something?"

"It's almost like you want to be in school," Mapi teases," We can always turn around and drive you back."

"I'm good," You say," But, you know, I haven't eaten yet. Can we grab something first?"

It's hours (and one burger) later that has Ingrid watching you from her passing exercise with Esmee.

Your white school shirt is stained with spray paint and she's ninety percent sure that it's never going to be white again. Your blazer is a heap on the floor and your hoodie sleeves are pushed up to reveal a pastel pink ribbon tied around one of your wrists.

You're totally in the zone though as you adjust your hastily made stencils and step back to review your work.

Ingrid's pretty sure someone could scream your name and you wouldn't even notice, too preoccupied with setting up base layers and a few shapes.

"How it's going?" Mapi asks," It looks..."

Well Mapi can't quite tell how it looks because it's just a bunch of colours and vague shape blobs to her.

"I think I'm going to make the focal point the Champion's League trophy," You say," And then everyone spread out around it."

Mapi tries to picture it but the vague blobs and splashes of colour look just like that to her, no hint of what you can clearly see within it. "Cool," Is all she can say in response.

"It'll look good," You reply," I promise."

"I trust you," Mapi says," I'm just a little sad that I'm clearly not seeing what you're seeing."

"Give it a few days," You promise," And it'll come together."

"I look forward to seeing it," Ingrid says as she approaches.

She's with Mapi, unable to see what you can in the splash of colour and swirls but she's seen enough of your work to know that it all starts off like this.

"Besides," Ingrid says, slipping her hand into yours," Maybe with this to work on, you won't go around tagging random buildings that make it on the news."

"You can't prove that was me," You reply, not taking your eyes off the wall in front of you," They were saying it could be Banksy or someone else trying to make a statement."

"Don't be stupid," You sister says," I can recognise your work anywhere."

[wileys-russo]

Mai i request a blurb or fic with Alexia or leah in their home with

"Oh my god if you buy one more plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch."

the collection II l.williamson

"babe!" you faintly heard your girlfriend call from downstairs, attention diverted from the laptop in front of you in the home office you and leah had turned your second bedroom into.

"yeah?" you called back, unable to hear her response. "babe? oi did you hear me?" leah yelled again as you sighed, closing your laptop and pushing away from the desk.

"lee, baby we've discussed this so many times that i cannot hear you unless you're in the same room or not-" you began to tell her off as you jogged downstairs but stopped as you saw the likely reason for her yelling.

"my package!" you squealed happily, almost bowling leah to the floor with the speed in which you zoomed past her and plucked the box from her hands, the blonde scoffing as you sat down on the edge of the sofa.

"this is what i was yelling about." you made an indignant noise as before you could even rip the box open leah appeared in front of you and snatched it from your hands, promptly pushing you back down onto the couch with her foot to your chest as you tried to stand.

"leah!" you huffed, smacking her sock covered foot away with a grimance as she tucked the box under her arm. "you, my girl, have a problem." leah began sternly, finger wagging at you as your eyes rolled.

"oh and do tell what is this so called problem i have?" you sighed, settling back into the couch with arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked in challenge toward the defender in front of you.

"you're addicted to online shopping." leah claimed boldly as you made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a choke as you shook your head. "i am not! leah this is ridiculous, give me my package." you demanded, wiggling your fingers at her expectantly as she firmly shook her head.

"this, is the fifth box to arrive on the doorstep addressed to you this week, and thats just whats arrived while i've been at home!" leah warned raising an eyebrow right back at you as you both stared one another down, unwavering.

"it is not the-" you were silenced by a fierce look from your girlfriend who suddenly went marching out of the room as you hurried to follow her, fingers itching to get a hand back on your package still tucked away in her arms.

"leah where on earth are we going?" you groaned in annoyance as again you tried to reach for the box and she darted out of your reach, marching through the house and right out the back doors as you sighed heavily and followed.

"exhibit a!" the english woman announced, having lead you around the side of the house and gesturing wildly to the near overflowing recycling bin hidden from public view.

it was due to go out tomorrow night as you made a mental note to remember to do that since leah was renowned for forgetting which is how the bin had ended up so full in the first place.

"what are you on about williamson?" you sighed deeply, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out to the side as you stared her down with pursed lips.

"evidence babe, cold hard undeniable evidence." leah held up a finger as if to pause whatever strange investigation she seemed to think was going on.

you groaned quietly as she placed your package down on the pavers, behind her and still out of your reach as, dramatically, she flung open the lid of the recycling bin and gave you an accusatory look.

"lee this is ridiculous just give me my package and-" "see!" leah interrupted, grabbing out an amazon box from the win and waving it about.

"a box? groundbreaking investigatory skills babe, consider me thoroughly impressed!" you clapped slowly, voice dripping with sarcasm as leahs eyes narrowed.

"you will see, exhibit b, the name on said box!" leah spun it around and tapped the label aggressively as you snickered and she glanced down, quickly flipping it around the right way and repeating the action.

"you mean to tell me a box was delivered to our home addressed to someone who lives here? scandalous!" you gasped, voice still alight with sarcasm as leah rolled her eyes and tossed the box onto the ground.

"exhibit c, d, e, f, g-" leah listed off, grabbing boxes of various shapes and sizes out of the bin, flashing your name on each one and tossing them into the growing pile on the ground as you watched on unamused.

"okay yeah leah alright you've made your point!" you finally snapped, stepping forward and promptly slamming the recycling bin lid closed, narrowly missing your girlfriends fingers as she whistled.

"touchy at the truth are we babe? ready to admit you've got a problem?" leah grinned happily as you shook your head and stepped forward.

"okay love you were right. i do have a problem-" you started with a small pout, hands coming to rest on leahs hips as she nodded in agreement. "-and that would be you." you promptly pushed her out of the way, snatching your package off the ground and striding away.

"don't forget to put those boxes back in the bin williamson!" you yelled over your shoulder, hurrying inside and ignoring the swearing and grumbling of the disgruntled blonde you left behind as you rummaged through the drawers for some scissors.

slicing down the tape you wrestled with the box for a moment before the flaps opened and you gasped, clapping happily and pulling its contents out, holding it at arms length with delight written clear on your face.

"oh you are fucking joking me! another one?" leah appeared at the back door, clearly nowhere near as impressed with your latest purchase as you were as you ignored her.

"you have about ten of those already! you do have a fucking shopping problem, i'm blocking your cards." leah huffed, attempting to snatch the plush pumpkin from your grip as you held it protectively to your chest.

"i do not! honestly and you say i'm dramatic leah?" you scoffed with a roll of your eyes. "and good luck considering i'm the one who deals with our finances." you blew her a kiss and ducked past her, only as you did she managed a hand on your latest stuffed friend and snatched it from you.

"leah! give it back-" you grunted, trying to wrestle it back but it was a fruitless task as she easily held you off with her other hand. "come." the defender barked, pushing you away again and headed for the bedroom as you scrambled to follow.

"exhibit...whatever bloody letter i was up to." leah waved it off, again shoving you away as you reached for the pumpkin she had in her grip. "babe, look! one, two, three, four, five, six-" your girlfriend began to count the series of jellycats sat on the bed.

"you have a problem!" leah poked at your chest as your eyes rolled and you mocked her under your breath. "say it, go on then." the girl demanded clapping expectantly as she tossed the pumpkin on the bed.

"no baby i can't, because we promised we wouldn't lie to one another." you pouted sarcastically, trying to reach past her to grab the pumpkin and squealing in shock as you were tackled to the bed.

"admit it! say you have an online shopping problem!" leah grunted, moving to sit on top of you as you wheezed and fought to throw her off.

"get off you haven't showered since training and you'll ruin them!" you whined, leah's eyes narrowing as she managed to pin your hands beneath her knees, not much taller than you but most certainly the stronger considering she was a professional athlete.

"oh? ruin these?" leah grabbed another jellycat in hand, this one a lime as you'd been on a bit of a food related kick with your purchases lately, and holding it up with a smirk.

"leah. put. it. down." you warned seriously, her smirk only growing. "i wonder what would happen if bella got a hold of one of these?" leah pondered, the two of you dogsitting for the week as amanda was away on a girls holiday.

"you do that, you'll be single faster than you can say north london forever williamson. put it down!" you growled as your girlfriend rolled her eyes, moving as if to place it down before she tossed it over her shoulder and you gasped.

"say you have an online shopping problem." "no!" this time it was a bright green frog which hit the bedroom floor and you gasped again. "say it babe."

"i do not have a problem. this is a hobby! like you collect vintage arsenal kits!" you accused, wriggling beneath her and groaning as you had no luck at all in throwing her off or getting a hand free.

"a hobby! please." leah scoffed. "i wear the kits, they have a purpose. these stupid little mounds of feathers or cotton or whatever the fuck they're made of just sit here all day. absolutely useless waste of money!" leah huffed as you inhaled sharply.

"they are not! they're loveable plush characters who have been around since the 90's with names and backstories and-" "oh my god if you buy one more stupid little plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch!"

"oh you'll kick me out will you miss needy?" you scoffed, raising an eyebrow in challenge, your girlfriend at her most clingy when the two of you were wrapped up in bed together of a night.

"if i need to. but these are just the tip of the iceberg of your online shopping problem! before this there was the stupid rocks-" "crystals." "then it was the stupid little action figures-" "pop vinyls." "then it was the fridge magnets-" "hey you said you liked that our fridge has personality now!" "and lets not forget the knitting, the colouring in, the necklace making kits, the paint by numbers-" leah listed off on her finger the countless hobbies you admittedly had invested quite a lot of money into before growing bored and moving onto something else.

"fine fine fine! i may have....some ever so slight difficulties with online shopping." you begrudgingly admitted, puffing our air with a scowl as leahs face softened.

"thank you. now was that so hard to admit?" your girlfriend smiled as your scowl only deepened. "get off me leah, right now."

leah rolled off of you as you couldn't wait and practically shoved her to the point she nearly fell off the bed as you stomped out of the room.

"babe! come on its out of love, i want to help you cure this problem." leah yelled out after you, hearing your footsteps thump back upstairs where the office was and sighing, already preparing her apology in her head before they sounded coming back downstairs and she paused.

"what are you-" she frowned seeing the odd assortment of objects in your hand, clearly looking as if you were struggling not to drop them as you carefully placed them down on the edge of the bed and leah scooted out of the way leaning back against the headboard.

"the hoverboard, the laptop dj set, the VR gaming headset, the rollerskates, the indoor golf set, the dartboard, the-" you listed off, pulling more things from under the bed or the back of the cupboard as leah suddenly seemed to run out of things to say, falling silent and blushing.

"now tell me, what are these leah?" you questioned the now quite large pile of leahs own dead hobbies on the bed as your girlfriend winced, hand awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.

"um...presents?" "oh? and who bought you these then? were they for your birthday? christmas?" you asked, hands on hips and staring her down as leah cleared her throat and chuckled uncomfortably.

"um. presents to me...from me?" "mmm, so...you bought them online. correct?" "...not all of them." leah clarified as you scoffed.

"right, right. so..." you trailed off, raising your eyebrows expectantly as the blonde let out a deep sigh and slowly crawled forward so she was sat at the end of the bed on her knees.

"my beautiful, smart, gorgeous, sexy-" "not the time for flattery williamson." "i am very very sorry for-"

however before she could finish the front doorbell rang diverting both of your attentions, right as your phone dinged and leahs once sorrowful eyes narrowed, the two of you locked eye to eye.

you began to slowly back out of the room, hearing the doorbell go again as your phone started to ring and leah hopped to her feet, stalking after you with a knowing look as you chuckled nervously.

"leah no!" you squealed as within seconds she was sprinting past you, holding you off with one arm and a leg as she cracked open the door, the poor delivery man jolting in shock as just leahs head appeared and her hand came to cover your mouth, keeping you at bay with her foot pressed to your stomach.

"delivery for a-" "oh no i'm sorry for the mix up mate but nobody by that name lives here, better return to sender if you would!" "leah catherine williamson!"

[dragon-ascent]

Zhongli makes you mad after an argument, so he endeavors to cheer you up.

this is for an anonymous request that I accidentally deleted, I'M SO SORRY ANON, I hope you see this post ;u;

Lovers' quarrels are part and parcel of life, though for you and Zhongli, they're generally few and far between (thanks to Zhongli's patience doing the heavy-lifting). So when an argument does break out, you get terribly upset.

Your husband has won the argument, but he's mature enough not to rub it in your face. As apology for the quarrel in the first place, Zhongli promises to bring you back your favorite sweets from the market. Still pouty, you merely shrug and curl up.

The minutes pass, and then an hour, and you're still curled up and moping in bed - but why hasn't Zhongli returned yet? It's not like him to take this much time.

Worry grips your heart as you sit up, yet another hour drifting by in silence. Could something have happened..? No, your husband is perfectly capable of defending himself given who he really is.

Before an even worse thought can seed itself in your heart, a large glowing amber eye peers at you through the window. "Ack!" You jump backwards, clutching your chest, before you realise it's your own husband in his dragon form watching you.

You hurry outside to see him holding up a bag of the sweets he'd promised in one claw, but that's not the point here. Why the hell is there a huge glittering pile of gold, gemstones, and jewellery of all shapes and sizes right next to him?

"What on earth..?" You stare at him in utter bewilderment, but your lover merely purrs as he sifts through all the valuables he's procured for you from obscure places perhaps only he knows.

The dragon tenderly and happily places a glimmering emerald tiara on your head, his tail thwacking the ground as it wiggles with great affection and enthusiasm.

Now you're staring at him in utter bewilderment while wearing an emerald tiara.

[cherubfae]

𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢𝔡 || {𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢}

tags: gn!reader, implied ftm!for Angie, established relationship, fluff, comfort, for anyone who has been too stressed or tired lately<3 let them carry you

Alastor

He lets out a deep sigh, staring down at you with slow blinks. "My love, surely that can't be comfortable for you" He has warned you time and time again not to spread yourself too thin with your tasks. Alastor appreciates how much of a good work ethic you have, but what is it worth if you don't have the strength to walk to your room? He picks you up as gently as he can, melding into shadow as he pops into your room. Carefully laying you down, Alastor will cover you up and with a gentle pat on your head before he takes his leave. Perhaps, next time he'll be tempted to rest beside you.

Lucifer

No wonder you hadn't answered him when he called your name. Here you were, fast asleep on his deep red chaise lounge using your folded arms as pillows. Lucifer picks you up bridal-style half-wishing you were awake so that you could see how strong he is! Another time, he thinks. Your rest is much more important than his ego (for now). "Sleep well, honey." He grins, wiggling beneath the sheets like an inch warm, his eyes sparkling with admiration. Placing a kiss to your head, Lucifer is quick to fall asleep.

Charlie

Honestly, she really does try her best not to squeal at the sight of you. You've been working insanely hard for the hotel-- it's no wonder you're so pooped out! She's careful with wiggling one arm beneath your back and hooking the other beneath your knees. She'll carry you to whichever room is closest: yours or hers. Maybe she'll be able to convince you to move into her suite soon. "Oh my gosh, aren't you just the cutest, honey?? I love you so much!"

Angel Dust

"Awww, sweets! Lookit ya! All tuckered out." He cooed in a hushed whisper, lightly booping your nose. His grin widens when it crinkles upwards. His middle set of arms pick you up, preferring to use his gloved ones to stroke back your hair softly. Leaning his cheek against your forehead, Angel carries you off to his room where an excited Fat Nuggets happily circles the bed in preparation for a lovely nap with his two favorite people.

Husk

Putting away the final glass beneath the bar's counter, his yellow eyes drift to your sleeping form at the end of the bar. You'd insisted on waiting for him to finish but all that work promoting the hotel on foot, searching for any sinners ready to be redeemed was a hard task. Husk fought back a smile. "You really do care about this stuff, dont'cha?" He asks despite knowing you won't answer. "Let's get ya to bed." Husk stretches his wings with a sigh before they fall slack. He lifts you into his arms and makes the trek up the stairs.

Blitzø

He'll bitch and groan about it, but he also won't let anyone else touch you when you're sleeping. Blitz will make some claims about how the person trying to touch you probably has cooties or a viral infection or something. Not happening. He's quick to scoop you up into his arms, eyes narrowed slightly, before scampering off to his room with you. "No, you don't get to fuckin' touch them with your gross unwashed hands, Moxxie-- yeah, that's right I saw you! We are living in post-Covid times, mister! Ack, no, leave 'em! I'll carry them just fine thank you!"

Loona

She smirks when she sees you. You look so sweet and cute, curled up into a ball. But that position can't be good on your spine, nor sleeping on Blitz's sad depression sofa. Loona bends down to lift you into her arms, pushing open her bedroom with her elbow and closing it shut with her foot. A nap with you sounded perfect. "You sure do look cute when you're tired, babe." She nuzzles your cheek with her nose.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴ���ᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[hvhvmoc]

♥︎♥︎♥︎

Characters : Art the Clown (Terrifier), afab!reader

Warning/CW : harscore(ish) smut, incorrect use of a gun, sex toys (vibrator, dildos, anal plug), triple penetration, double penetration, squirting, oral (f! Receiving), gagging, some blood, reader gets carried, hair pulling, some butt stuff (no shit or piss dw), and other things I forgot

A/N : is this long idk (that's what she said), enjoy u freaks, sorry in advance for rushing or spelling mistakes

Art is into some harsh shit. In every way. You already know how he handles his victims. But he's also into harsh shit in bed. You two have already discussed a safe"word" in case he takes something too far. Shake your head three times and times over. That's what you two agreed on.

Now here you are, tired to the bed. You're slumped against the headboard, fully naked, your hands tied behind your back, your legs tied apart. Your calves are pressed against your thighs, then are tied to the legs of the bed, forcing them apart. Apart enough to be uncomfortable a little, but not painful.

Art grabs some "toys" from the nightstand drawer, placing it next to you, just like he does when he's getting ready to torture someone; laying out the weapons in front of them as they're tied up, helpless. He sets out the toys on the bed but sets out some items on the floor, out of your sight. You feel yourself getting wetter as you look down at Arts display, imaging him using them on you.

Art happily walks to the bed and sits in front of your open legs. He grabs the dildo next to you first, pressing it against your lips. You open your mouth and he shoves as much as he can down your throat, making you gag a couple times as he lets it sit there. He pulls it out, and pressed it against your bare pussy; massaging your clit with it for a second before he fully puts it into you. You let out a moan. Art uses his fingers to keep the plastic dick inside you, pressing into the bottom of the base.

He takes a vibrator from next to you, instantly turning it on the highest sitting and pressing it against your clit. You yelp out a moan and Art grins and wiggles his eyebrows at you. He uses one hand to keep the vibrator against you, the other one starting to thrust the dildo in and out of you, fast. You throw your head back and moan more, Art responding by moving the vibrator up at down your clit, continuing his fast pace with the dildo.

You squirm around in the rope, Art not slowing down. He continues his pace until you moan out that you're cumming, pressing the plastic dick fully inside you and the vibrator still against your clit, on the same high setting. You reach your climax and eventually Art pulls the dildo out and turns off the vibrator. Art bends down and licks your pussy, making out with it for a bit before he gets back up. He bunches his fingers together, kissing his fingertips cartoonishly, silently saying "delicious!".

Art grabs an anal plug, putting the plug in his mouth for a second and taking it out with a "pop" sound (it's clean ya nasties). He- surprisingly gentle- puts it into your ass and pats your thigh encouragingly.

He looks at the mysterious items on the floor, and he looks up at you with a huge, almost sinister, grin on his face. Art reaches down, grabbing a... gun. You look more confused than scared. Art opens the gun, showing you there's no bullets, shooting it a couple times to prove it too. You're panting, silently questioning him. He puts the safety on so it won't shoot, loaded or not, and grins up at you. He teases your pussy with the gun, nudging your clit with it. You let out a soft moan, not questioning the gun anymore. Art pushes the long end of the gun into you and you moan again.

Art wasn't going as fast on the gun as he did with the dildo, put he wasn't going slow, persay. Art never goes slow. Or nice. Art goes to lay on stomach, giving your clit a kiss. His lips wrap around it, swirling his tongue around the bud and sucking on it as he fucks you with his gun. He grinds his clothed dick against the bed as he looks up at you, with an almost animalistic look in his eyes.

He starts thrusting the gun in and out if you faster. You moan louder and throw your head back. You feel the vibrations of a groan on your clit, though you couldn't hear the groan, and your thighs shake. You buck your hips against him as you get closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night. After a while, you cum on the gun. Art stop grinding against the bed and pulls the gun out of you, sitting up again and inspecting your juices on the gun. He licks up the mess on the metal, maintaining eye contact with you. And it did turn you on more watching that.

Art puts the gun back down and shoves two fingers into your pussy, curling his fingers up and moving his fingers at a fast pace- the fastest he's been so far. You yell out a moan and your legs shake as you squirt all over Arts fingers, wrist, arm, and bedsheets. He pulls his fingers out and shoves them down your throat, making you drink your own juices and gag on his fingers. He pulls his fingers out and slaps you across the face and you bite your lip.

"That all you got?" You ask shakingly. His eyes become daring and he slaps you on the opposite cheek, harder than the first. Your lip starts bleeding and you look up to him, dazed. Art grabs your chin, looking at the wound on your lip. He watches the blood run from your lip to your chin and onto his hand. He licks up your chin, to your lips. He kisses you feverishly, and roughly.

As you two kiss, Art undos the rope holding your legs apart. Once your legs are free, Art pulls away from the kiss and flips you over. Your hands are still tied behind your back, your face in a pillow, and your ass in the air. Art undresses himself. He pulls out your anal plug and sets it with the rest of the toys on the side. Art picks up another dildo, a little short than the last one, and shoves it in your pussy. He moves it a couple times while it's inside, then pulls it out. Art presses the now wet dildo up to your asshole and push it inside, slowly.

You moan, and pant when it's fully inside. Art grabs your asscheek with one hand, his thumb keeping the dildo in place- inside. He uses his other hand to guide his dick into your pussy. You moan, muffled a bit because of the pillow your face is in, when he's fully inside. Art grips onto your hips with both hands and he starts a brutal, harsh pace- the harshest he's been all night. Your hands are still tied behind your back, your hands gripping onto the rope tightly. You sob out moans as he moves against you, your eyes rolling back.

Art grips onto your ass, massaging it and spanking it every once in a while. Art reaches over and grabs the other- bigger- dildo. He grabs a fistful of your hair and pull your head back harshly, your loud, desperate moans being very audible now. With his other hand, he shoves the dildo down your throat, moving it in and out in a fast pace. You gag and moan, tears streaming down your face, drool down your chin.

After a while, you cum again, and Art pulls the dildo away from your mouth as you moan loudly, though the thrusts of his own dick inside you never falters. Once you calm down a bit from your orgasm, Art shoves the dildo right back down your throat, face fucking you with it. Your hands grip onto the rope tying them together until your knuckles turn white.

Your legs shake and you keep gagging on the plastic dick Art keeps shoving into your mouth, drool spilling and pooling under you, onto the pillow. Your face is red and there's a bit of dry blood smudged on your lower lip. All the while, Art looks down at you with his usual sinister grin, his shoulders moving in a silent laugh when you get louder or gag.

Suddenly, Art pulls the dildo out of your mouth, setting it to the side. He grabs onto your hips with both hands and go harder than he was going before. You scream out a moan and a couple curses, making him silently laugh at you as he continues. He smacks your ass a couple times before he fully presses against your ass, cumming inside you. At the feeling, you orgasm again, this time less violent and spratic as the other few times.

Art stays inside, not moving, just listening to your pants and whimpers. "Kiss?" You pant out. Art nods and leans forward, kissing you gently on the lips. Finally, he pulls away and pulls his dick out of you, looking at the mess between your legs. You gently takes the dildo out of your ass and you body finally relaxes. Your knees give out and you lay fully on your stomach, your arms still tied behind your back.

Art unties you and flips you over so your laying on your back. He gives you a questioning look and a thumbs up, then thumbs down, asking you if you're ok. You smile and nod up at him, giving him a thumbs up. He leans down and kisses you before getting up, putting on some clothes, and grabbing everything he put inside you that night. He hold up a finger, telling you to wait a minute, and he walks out of the room. He comes back a couple minutes later, everything he was holding now cleaned and dried- included the gun. You watch as he puts every toy back into the drawer on the nightstand.

He stands up, cracking his back. Art looks over to your tired, fucked out state. Your face red, hair messed up, blood on your lower lip, dried up tears and drool on your face, rope marks on your arms and legs and your body shaking. He grins a little at the mess he made, but quickly wipes it off his face and goes to carry you, bridal style. Art carries you to the bathroom, carefully placing you on the toilet. He gives you another questioning look and a thumbs up. You give a thumbs up back.

He hops onto the counter next to you. After what you two just did you couldn't give half a fuck that he sits there while you pee. You tell him to look away while you wipe and he does. You close the lid and flush and Art hops off the counter and carries you to bed. He lays down with you, you two snuggling and clinging onto eachother. You fall asleep, feeling safe in his arms. The safest anyone has ever felt in his arms.

♥︎♥︎♥︎

I TYPED HALF THIS SHIT OUT AT NIGHT AND WOKE UP AND FINISHED IT AND WHAT I WROTE TODAY DIDNT SAVEEEEEEE

I HAD TO REWRITE TS

[tender-rosiey]

Sharing with you because your dad series is my favorite dad gojo series.

I saw this commercial for some medication but in the background there was this dad winning a fair game to get their kid a toy. Satoru energy <3

claw machine — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this took so much time and I STILL hate how it turned out; i am so sorry but i can't pour anymore energy into this </3 pls lets forget about it

“papa, that one please!”

satoru glances down at his son with a playful smirk, “only that one?”

your son’s face twists in thought, his tiny brows furrowing in confusion, “what do you mean?”

satoru crouches down to meet his son’s gaze, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “I mean, I could get you a loooot more, you know.”

s/n shakes his head resolutely, “don’t wanna.”

satoru’s eyes widen slightly, and he tilts his head, “really? why not?”

s/n shifts his gaze to his feet, his voice small and earnest. “mama said she wanted a new plushie, and I wanted to get her one, but…” he looks up at satoru, his voice tinged with sadness, “I can’t reach the joystick.”

satoru smiles. he lets out a gentle chuckle, his hand reaching out to pat s/n’s head reassuringly. “that’s quite the predicament,” he says hums. “how about I lift you up so you can try and win it for her?”

your son’s eyes light up but then dim, as he frowns, “and if I don’t?”

satoru’s laughter is warm and rich as he places his hands on s/n’s shoulders. “then I’ll win it for you, and you can tell mommy that you got it for her, okay?”

s/n’s face beams with happiness, and he wraps his little arms around satoru’s leg in a grateful hug. “thank you, daddy!”

satoru’s heart swells with pride as he scoops your son up with ease, his strong arms cradling him securely. “let’s get that plushie!” he declares with a grin.

"yesss!!"

as they approach the claw machine, satoru’s strides are confident, each step resonating with purpose. satoru carefully sets s/n down in front of the machine, adjusting the controls so he can reach them.

“hold on tight,” satoru quips. from his elevated position, s/n lets out an excited squeal, his voice brimming with excitement, “papa, I’m so high up!”

satoru’s grin widens as he holds s/n steadily, his arm resting protectively around him, "must be nice, huh? a day from papa's prespective?"

"what's pespecive?"

satoru pauses, "oops, nevermind."

your son shrugs before his small fingers grip the joystick with determination, his face a picture of concentration. he narrows his eyes, and a few beats pass, before he murmurs, “papa, why is it not moving?”

satoru’s laughter is soft and affectionate as he observes the scene, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “that’s because you aren’t moving the stick, s/n.”

“oh.”

s/n frowns and adjusts his grip, slowly maneuvering the joystick with newfound confidence. satoru’s chuckles were a warm backdrop to s/n’s focused effort. “that’s it, keep going! you’re doing great! my strong son!”

s/n grins happily at your husband's praise and happily presses the button.

the claw descends with a slow, dramatic movement, and your son’s face lights up with a triumphant gasp as it successfully grabs the plushie. satoru guides the claw back to the prize chute with a steady hand, while s/n starts wiggling with happiness in his arms.

“you did it, champ!” satoru cheers.

he retrieves the plushie with a flourish, holding it up for your son to see. the little boy’s eyes sparkle with joy as he clutches the stuffed toy tightly, arms flailing around in excitement, “we got it for mama!”

“we did, indeed!” satoru’s smile is warm and full of love as he pulls your son close, his arm resting protectively around him. he suggests playfully, “now let’s sneak up on her. think she’ll spot us?”

s/n giggles, his face flushed with enthusiasm, “I don’t think she will! we’re so good”

your husband's playful grin never wavers as he whispers, “you ready?”

s/n nods eagerly, “ready!”

the pair giggle amongst themselves, and satoru takes the chance to carry your son on his back which makes the him squeal. the boy clutches tightly onto the plushie and hides his face in his dad’s shoulder to conceal his giggles.

satoru spots you from the corner of his eye. he starts tiptoeing closer and closer to you, and he raises his arms slowly, finally behind your unaware form. he grins, “boo—!”

you spin around and slap your husband, sending him flying through the arcade. you snatch your son into your arms and take a defensive stance, “who the hell are you?!”

“mama, that’s papa!”

your eyes widen, and you focus more on the six feet something man that is slowly getting up from the ground. the man rubs his hand on his cheek in attempt to ease the pain. you're relieved for him to indeed be your husband.

you splutter, “satoru?! why the hell did you have your infinity off?!”

“I didn’t feel like there was any danger nearby,” he pouts, “didn’t think the danger would be my own wife!”

your husband is about to go on a lengthy monologue about the betrayal and hurt he is feeling, but your son interrupts him to beam at you, holding the plushie, “daddy and I won this just for you!”

you take the plushie, giving it a squeeze and then grinning at your son, “aww, really? this is wonderful! thank you, s/n!” you press a big kiss to your son’s cheek which makes him squeal and nuzzle his cheek against yours.

“what about me?!” your husband interjects, and you hum in mock contemplation.

“make up for me the fact that you tried scaring me, then I will think about it,” you smirk, and your husband nods with determination. you wait patiently for his next move; however, you find him standing on top of a table and taking a deep breath.

“satoru, don’t you dare—”

“I LOVE MY WIFE, Y/N GOJO!”

“I love mama too!”

“my god…”

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[aurorawritestoescape]

MEOW! || Joel Miller x f!reader || 1,8 k

Summary: Joel and you tease each other until the need gets too strong.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, established relationship, pwp, tipsy sex, taking naughty videos and pics, m/f! oral, unprotected piv, creampie, nipple play, cumeating, dirty talk, a few daddy’s thrown in for fun. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions. Joel can pick reader up.

A/n: this is filthy but who’s surprised? Hope you’ll enjoy! Love you all💖 I’m meowing loudly at @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and being the best😘 Dividers by @\saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || same couple - HEATWAVE collection

“Yeah, like that. Ass higher, baby…Yeahhh, good girl.”

You smile at the praise while your cheek is resting on your hands planted on the floor, your butt is hiked up in the air.

Tonight Joel and you had a few drinks at a bar, came home and slowly danced in the living room, enticing each other more and more. That's how you ended up completely naked, playfully wiggling your ass with Joel taking a video of your naughty teasing.

"Now crawl to me." His directing voice is soft but domineering and you happily play along.

"Yes, daddy."

The pet name surprises you both and Joel's brows shoot up as you giggle in anticipation. You start dragging your knees and hands forward as sexy as you can, channeling your inner feline.

"Meow," you joke and Joel reacts with a lopsided smile, his dark eyes bouncing between you on his screen and you on the floor. His voice alone makes you throb when he asks,

"Is my kitty hungry?"

"For your cock, daddy? Always," you purr, reaching his feet, and sit on your heels.

"Meow!" you repeat louder.

”Shhh, don’t be rude, baby. Let me hear you purr first.”

You bite your lower lip and then lean onto his crotch. Your cheek feels his hard bulge and you nuzzle it, as a low sound crawls up your throat that seems to please Joel.

“That’s it. Purr for me, baby.”

He pets your head and your fingers claw at his jeans clad thighs as you’re rubbing your face over the harsh fabric. Joel directs the camera right at you.

“Good kitty. Want a sausage?”

You can’t help but laugh, hiding your face and pressing it against his inner thigh. You’re trying to keep it sexy for the video but Joel starts chuckling too and you look up at him to share this moment with your goofball of a man.

“Kitty does want a sausage,“ you smirk through little giggles and as a proof of your words your hands dart to his belt and you tug impatiently at the buckle. Joel helps you and soon his cock is free and ready to play with.

“Show daddy what this kitty’s good for.“

Kneeling between his thighs, you lean down and kiss the tip, glancing up at the camera. Then you give it a wink and take Joel’s impressive length into your salivating mouth. When the fat head hits your throat, you take a breath through your nose and relax your muscles, eager to take him deeper.

“Hungry girl, huh?”

Joel’s voice is sultry as he places one hand on the back of your head, the other still holding the phone.

Soon you nuzzle a soft pillow of his trimmed pubic hair and he holds your head in place, his palm on the back of your head.

“Keep me in—hnggg— yeah, jus’ like that.”

Your nails scratch his jeans, tears well up in your eyes and stream down your heated cheeks, but the control he has over you is turning you on so much that your pussy beats with the rhythm of your heart and you’re dripping your arousal right on the floor.

Your throat contracts around his meaty cock and Joel grunts, pulling you off by your hair, his grip strong and gentle at the same time.

You swallow big gulps of air, wiping your chin with the back of your hand, and then smile at your man and the camera with glazed up eyes. Having gotten the taste of him, your mind and body are overtaken with lust, and you are desperate to have more.

“Joel, fuck me,” you croak, your tone demanding, your playfulness driven away by the maddening need, as you’re watching him hold his enlarged cock in his hand.

“On your back, kitty.”

You smile triumphantly and after your back hits the floor, you spread your legs, welcoming him with your pussy slicked up and ready.

Joel stops the video and leaves the phone on the chair before swiftly kneeling between your thighs and pulling his jeans lower.

“Look at ‘er. Kitty’s already nice and wet for me.”

You both know that you’ve been dripping for him all night since he was mercilessly teasing you now and then under the table at the bar.

“Joeeellll pleaseeee,” you whine as your hungry eyes are trained on his leaking member.

His hairy thighs tickle your legs and the carpet rubs your back when he lifts your hips and pulls you into him but you don’t care. Your number one priority is your pulsating cunt, achy and weeping with desire.

“Fuck, love it when ya desperate,” Joel mumbles and swiftly inserts his stiff cock through your clenching hole and then pushes it deeper. You both moan when his balls smash against your ass. You take him well, opened up by the need, your walls drenched after tasting him.

“How are you so fucking tight, baby? ‘s like I’m fucking a virgin every— t —time,” Joel chokes on his words, and tilts his head up, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure but just for a moment. They snap open soon and he looks between your bodies, taking in the way your tight cunt grips onto his shaft every time he pulls it out.

“It’s magic, Joel,” you joke with a hazy smile, fully concentrated on the sensation you’ve been craving all night.

“Magic kitty, huh?” Joel chuckles through heavy breaths as you nod. His forehead is glistening with sweat and without breaking the rhythm of his cock plunging into your pussy, he maneuvers his body and takes off his plaid shirt.

You bite your lip, ogling his strong torso, and lift on your elbows to kiss his dewy chest. The taste of his salty skin makes you moan and, craving more, you draw a path of open mouth kisses until to his nipple. You give it a lick and Joel makes the cutest sound you’ve ever heard— a soft mixture of a gasp and a moan. Encouraged by his reaction you swirl the hot tip of your tongue around the hard peak and Joel gently cups the back of your head, helping you to keep yourself up and signaling for you to go on.

You doubt that you can stop at this point. His erect nipples get sucked, licked and kissed while your pussy is squelching around his moving cock. He’s trembling with pleasure, probably struggling not to collapse on top of you, grunting and moaning together with you.

Sensing that he’s on edge, you lie back down and smile at the result of your caress- Joel’s nipples are puffy, bigger than usual, shining with your saliva. His expression makes your chest swell with pride as well. He looks absolutely wrecked— jaw slack, eyes blown out, hairline shiny with sweat.

Joel leans down and kisses you feverishly.

“Fuck— gonna— baby, I can’t—,” he’s mumbling against your lips, breaking the kiss, as his hand darts to his cock ready to pull it out.

“Nonono— come Joel, come now.”

“But—,” he looks at you with his puppy eyes under the brows pulled together, “—you haven’t come yet.”

“ ‘s ok,” you reassure him.

Your desire to make him explode right here, right now is so strong that you reach between your bodies, wrap your hand around his girthy base, covered by your creamy slick, and start jerking him off while half of his shaft and the tip are still snuggled inside your warm cunt.

“Babyyyfuckkk,”Joel moans while your hand is pumping his drenched dick, with him barely holding his trembling body over you.

“C’mon, kitty wants your milk,” you purr and Joel chokes on a whimper as his hips make a few jerks and his cock begins filling you up with hot cum, rope after rope of his thick pearly load.

You don’t stop milking him, your hand working tirelessly, your pussy clamping around his pulsating cock until he falls on you.

With your arms and legs around Joel, you let him rest on top of you, reveling in the feeling of comfort under his weight, but soon it gets too heavy for you and you squirm.

”Joel— can’t breathe.”

“Oh, baby, sorry,” he apologizes but instead of lying next to you he climbs down your body.

“What are you..?” You don’t have time to finish and gasp instead when his mouth engulfs your soaked folds and he pushes his tongue between them to lap at your puffy clit.

You flutter your eyes shut but Joel lightly slaps the side of your ass and commands,

“Eyes opened. Watch me make you come.”

His tone is demanding, not asking, and you moan at how hot it is. So you lift yourself on your elbows, slightly shaking from exhaustion, and watch his tongue slide over your enlarged bud, your leaking hole. His lips kiss every inch of your cunt and he drinks everything you give him— your slick, his cum - with pleasure and gratitude, humming at the mix of tastes.

“Joel-I’m coming—aahhh,” you whine and collapse on the floor, shaking and trembling, as a hard orgasm is ravaging your body. Joel keeps you close against his mouth, lapping and rubbing your pussy, prolonging your release, until your clit jerks against his tongue and he knows it’ll hurt if he continues.

With a satisfied smile on his wet lips, his mustache and beard glistening, Joel lies down next to you on the floor and pulls you into his big body. You’re catching your breath in his arms for a few minutes and when you’re about to drift away, he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom.

“You better delete all those photos and videos,” you mumble, lying on his shoulder in bed.

He chuckles, “Nah, wanna send them to the boys. Brag about my filthy girl.”

You playfully swat his arm wrapped around you with your hand.

“Stop!”

“I bet Tommy would love ‘em. The fucker always stares at you with heart eyes.”

”He does not,” you protest weakly as you both know that he does.

“Too bad for him, I'm the one enjoying your sweet lips.” Now you’re the one looking at Joel with hearts in your eyes as he continues,

“No, really. Gonna save those and look at them when you’re away. When I miss you.”

“I’m leaving only for a week, Joel,” you smile, feeling warmth in your chest at how sweet he is.

“Still. Can’t wait to watch the one where you suck my dick. Gonna jack off and come so hard I jus’ know it.”

“Aww! so romantic, Joel!” You comment sarcastically and hit him with a pillow.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

MASTERLIST || same couple - HEATWAVE collection

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

[corroded-hellfire]

I can't remember if you already answered or wrote this, but when was the first time Ryan and Luke called reader "mom"?

+ AYW request for ya--Eliza has started saying "mama," which prompts Ryan & Luke to discuss what they call Reader and whether or not they want to call her "mom."

+ When was the first time Reader referred to Luke & Ryan as her sons and when was the first time Luka & Ryan called Reader their mom?

+ What was the first time like when Ryan and Luke started calling Reader "mom"?

+ What was the first moment like when Ryan and Luke first called Reader "mom" or how did the Munson boys react when she called Ryan and Luke "my sons"?

I love how so many people wanted to see this 💜 This does get kind of cheesy and corny at the end (more so than usual), but I couldn't get the song out of my head while writing this, so it gets put in lol

Words: 4.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Say it again, say it again,” you gush, grinning at your daughter. 

“Mama!” she gleefully replies.

You clap your hands together and she copies your motions with the same enthusiasm. 

“Still making her say it, huh?”

You look up and see your husband leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and a playful smile on his lips.

“Like you didn’t have her saying ‘dada’ over and over when she first learned it last month.”

“Dada!” Eliza chimes in. 

“Hi, sweet pea.” Eddie steps into the room and leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head. 

The little girl preens at all the attention she’s getting. Her short legs happily bounce as she wiggles from side to side on the couch. 

“Mama, Dada, Mama, Dada,” Eliza singsongs. 

“My little smarty pants!” You grin and gently tickle her soft belly. 

“You girls have fun,” Eddie says, mussing up Eliza’s curls before heading down the hall. 

“Well, do you want to?”

The shaky tone of Luke’s voice has Eddie coming to a halt a few feet away from the younger boy’s bedroom. 

“I mean…yeah. I think so,” Ryan replies. “Do you think she would mind?”

“I don’t know,” Luke says. “I don’t think so. But it feels weird to ask.”

“We’ve said it a lot trying to get Eliza to say it. It felt…”

“Good,” Luke finishes for his brother. 

Eddie’s brow furrows as he tries to piece together what’s troubling his boys. He doesn’t intend to eavesdrop on the two of them, but it’s become second nature to pay close attention whenever Luke is talking in case there is a scheme in the works that needs to be foiled. 

“She’s always felt more like our mom than Mom does,” Ryan says. 

The words are the key Eddie needed to unlock the stronghold. It makes complete sense now. The boys have been encouraging Eliza to say “Mama” for weeks now, so they’ve been referring to you in that way in front of their sister. Eddie feels like an idiot for never considering the internal storm that must’ve brewed in his sons. It’s no secret that they feel that you’re their mother more than Brittany ever was, but it’s become so normal for them to just refer to you by name. But Eddie can’t blame them for wanting to use the more official title they’d like to bestow on you. 

Slowly, Eddie walks past Luke’s door, acting as if he was always going this way straight from the other room, without making a pitstop to solve a puzzle. 

A long yawn further reminds you of how tired you are as you pull the blankets down on your bed. Curling up between the sheets is all you’ve been able to think about for the last hour. 

Your husband walks into the room, unhooking the black watch from around his wrist. He’s already comfy in his green plaid pajama pants and holey Dio t-shirt. 

“So, um, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Eddie says, placing his watch on his nightstand.

“What’s up? You climb into your shared bed and get comfortable on your side, facing him. 

“Well, I heard the boys talking this afternoon.” Eddie lifts the blankets on his side of the bed and slips in right next to you. He clicks off his bedside lamp before getting comfortable and laying nose to nose with you. “They were talking about you.”

“Me?” you ask, a frown pinching your face. “Did I do something?”

“Not at all, baby,” Eddie is quick to assure you. He reaches out and gently trails the rough pads of his fingers against your jaw. “They were talking about how Eliza finally said “mama” and how they refer to you that way for her.”

Dread pools in your stomach. 

“Oh no. Did that make them uncomfortable? I never asked them to, they just started saying it to help her learn. I feel so—”

“Baby, baby,” Eddie says, gently cupping the side of your face. “No, that’s not it at all. Actually, it’s kind of the opposite.”

“What do you mean?” Your face is still pinched up in concern, so Eddie gently rubs his thumb over your scrunched up forehead.

“They were saying that it felt good when they called you that. That you’ve always been their mom more than the witch ever was.”

Love’s warming touch cocoons you in an embrace as you process Luke and Ryan talking about calling you “mom.” It’s not something you ever would’ve forced on them. They call you by your name, it’s been that way since you’ve met. 

“They were wondering if you’d mind. And that it would feel weird to ask you about it,” Eddie adds. 

“The boys…” you trail off, needing to clear the emotion out of your throat before continuing. “The boys want to call me ‘mom’?”

“It looks that way.” Even in the dim lighting of the bedroom, you can see your husband’s grin. It’s contagious. 

“I feel kind of speechless,” you admit. “I never expected it. I mean, they already have a mom. I guess I just thought that was her and I’m…me.”

“Do you not want them to call you that, princess?” Eddie asks, his tone completely devoid of judgment. 

“No, no, it’s not that!” you’re quick to assure him. “I would be…so honored if they wanted to call me that. I just don’t want them to think I’m trying to overstep or take their mom’s place.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says with a laugh, “they wish you would take their mother’s place. Brittany may have birthed them, but you’ve given them more maternal love today alone than she’s done their whole lives.”

“They’re my boys. My sons,” you say, unable to keep a smile off your face at the words. 

“And you’re the mom they always wanted. The one they deserve.”

That causes the tears to finally spill over. You lean forward and bury your head in the juncture between Eddie’s neck and shoulder. He slips his lean arms around you and holds your body against his own. 

“I’d be so happy if they called me that,” you whisper against Eddie’s skin. “Ecstatic. But I don’t want them to feel pressured to do it.”

Eddie nods, one hand rubbing up and down your back.

“Why don’t we wait to see if they bring it up? Luke said it would be weird to come out and ask, but they might bring it up in another way. I just wanted to talk to you about it so if they do bring it up, you’re not caught off guard.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” You tilt your head up to gaze at your husband through the pale moonlight shining into your room. “You raised such wonderful boys.”

“You mean, ‘we’ raised,” Eddie counters. “You’ve been around for more than half of their lives now.”

“Sometimes it feels like yesterday that Luke was four years old and trying to convince me he needed candy to live.” You chuckle at the memory. “They’re becoming little men now, though.”

“That they are,” Eddie says with a sigh. “Guess I should teach them how to use basic tools and shit then, huh?”

“Well, who’s going to teach you?” you tease with a playful smirk. 

“Wiseass,” Eddie mumbles as he rolls you onto your back and hovers over you. 

“I learned from the best!”

It takes just over two weeks for the subject to come up. Eddie is at work, Eliza is spending a little time with her grandpa before he has to get ready for work, and you’re picking the boys up from basketball practice at Hawkins Middle School. 

You step into the gymnasium and are immediately choked by the stench of over a dozen boys going through puberty, and not all of them have discovered deodorant yet. 

Luke is still running around on the court, where a few kids linger, and Ryan is sitting on the bench, talking to a friend. It doesn’t surprise you. Ryan was initially excited to join the basketball team when Luke first brought it up. But now, a few months in, Luke is loving it and Ryan would rather be doing almost anything else. But he made a commitment to the team and Eddie told him it’s the right thing to do, to honor that commitment. So, he’s counting the days until the end of the season. 

You catch Ryan’s eye as you walk over to the sign out sheet, so he says goodbye to his friend and comes over to join you as you scribble down your name. One of the parent volunteers glances down and then smiles up at you.

“Munson?” The perky blonde woman asks in a chipper voice. “You must be Ryan and Luke’s mom.”

Just as she says this, Ryan reaches you and smiles up at you in greeting. 

It’s not unusual for people to assume you’re Luke and Ryan’s mom, so navigating answers like that have become second nature, and in most cases, it’s just easier to say yes. But with this, you see an opportunity to broach the topic with the boys.

“Yeah, I’m their mom.” You grin and wrap your arm around Ryan’s shoulders. See? I’m saying it. I would love for you two to call me that. 

You feel Ryan lean more into you and you breathe a sigh of relief that he’s acknowledging what you said as well. 

“Luke!” The volunteer calls out onto the court. “Your mom’s here!”

The eleven-year-old turns his head in your direction, sweaty curls whipping around, and gives a smile when he sees you. He waves to his friends and jogs over.

“How was practice, boys?” you ask as you head with them toward the gym doors. 

“Good!” Luke says, an extra spring in his step because he’s wearing the new sneakers he just had to have. “I’m getting better at shooting.”

“Atta boy.” You muss his hair, then have to wipe the sweat clinging to your hand on the side of your jeans. “What about you, Ry?”

“Was alright,” he replies with a shrug. “Got bored.”

“Where’s Liza?” Luke asks as the three of you get into the car.

“At Grandpa’s. We gotta go pick her up so he can get ready for work.”

Ryan buckles his seatbelt in the front passenger seat and turns on the radio. It’s quiet except for Stacy’s Mom coming from the speakers as you back out of your parking space and head off school property.

As you pull up to the first red light you’ve encountered, you turn down the music a few notches so the boys can hear you.

“Is that blonde lady from practice a team mom?” you ask.

“Who?” Luke asks.

“The lady who called out to you that your mom was there.” Why do you feel so nervous? This is Luke and Ryan. Your boys. 

“Oh! Yeah, that’s Gavin’s mom,” Luke says. “I think she does sign-ups for if other moms wanna bring snacks or something.”

“Yeah?” you ask, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. “Would you guys want me to do that sometime?” The light turns green, and you start down the main strip of Hawkins, towards Forest Hills. 

“You wanna be a team mom?” Ryan asks, looking over at you. 

“Hell yeah,” you say with a nod. “Show those other moms what it’s like to raise the two best boys in Hawkins. But I’ll only do it if you want me to. I don’t want to embarrass you guys or barge in on your activities or anything.”

“No, it’d be fun!” Luke interjects. “Whenever you bring snacks, everyone will go, ‘Thanks, Ryan and Luke’s Mom!’”

“Um, if you want them to call you that,” Ryan adds softly. 

This is it. The opening you’ve been waiting for. So, why do you feel so tongue-tied all of a sudden?

“Guys,” you speak slowly and deliberately, wanting them to know just how much you mean this, and that it’s not some throw away comment, “I love when people call me your mom. But…does it bother you?”

“No!” They’re both quick to answer simultaneously. 

“We like it, too,” Luke adds. 

You nod and adjust your hands on the steering wheel, psyching yourself up to get the next words out. 

“Listen.” You pause to clear your throat. “If you guys ever want to call me that yourselves, that is perfectly okay. I would never force you to call me that, of course. But if that’s something you’d like to do, that’s good with me.” It’s actually much more than good with you, but you don’t want to bear down too heavily on them. 

“Really?” Luke asks, voice almost as soft as you’ve ever heard it. “We can?”

“Absolutely,” you assure them. “You’re my sons. You can call me whatever feels right to you.”

“Yeah?” Ryan asks.

“Yes.” You say the word with more confidence than you’ve ever said it before. The conviction of the answer rivals that of when you said “I do” to Eddie. 

“I’d like that,” Ryan admits, a sheepish smile growing on his face. 

“Me too,” Luke says.

“I think I just…” Ryan trails off, so you take a quick look at him before looking back to the road. “I think maybe another version of it. Because, like, when I think of calling someone ‘Mom,’ I can’t help but think of her.”

“Yeah, it’s like she ruined the name,” Luke agrees, nodding his head vigorously. 

“That makes sense,” you tell them. “There are definitely different variations of the word. Whatever feels best for you is fine with me.”

“What about, ‘Mother-I-Wish-I-Always-Had?” Luke suggests with a small playful giggle.

“That’s quite a mouthful!” You laugh as well, looking at your younger boy in the rearview mirror again. 

“I mean…” Once again, Ryan trails off, but this time he’s fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt.

“What is it, Ry?” you ask. “You know you can tell me anything. Or ask me anything.”

“Well, it felt nice when we were trying to help Eliza say your name.”

“Yeah!” Luke seconds. “Calling you ‘Mama.’”

“Is that too childish?” Ryan asks, a slight tremble in his voice. 

You turn the car into Forest Hills trailer park and wait until you come to a full and complete stop outside of Wayne’s place before speaking. Wanting to see both boys better, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn your body to look at them from your seat. 

“It is not childish,” you assure him—assure both of them. “I liked hearing you guys call me that, too. When you were helping your sister.” You smile and tilt your head to the side. “I actually feel like that name suits me better than ‘mom,’ anyway. It feels right to me. Like, I’ve been waiting my whole life to be called that.”

“You’re better than ‘mom’.” Ryan confirms with a nod. 

The urge to reach out for him is too strong, so you gently cup the side of Ryan’s face and gently rub your thumb back and forth over his cheek bone. Luke unbuckles his seatbelt and moves forward—closer to you, signaling he wants the same affection. You’re more than happy to give it to him. 

“You’re my sons,” you tell them. “You’re my everything. You, your sister, and your dad. You guys are my whole world. And there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. So, if you ever want to talk about anything—and I truly mean anything, no matter how weird or uncomfortable you think it might be—you can come to me. I’ll always be in your corner, no matter what. And nothing you tell me will ever change the way that I feel about you. There’s not a force in this world that can do that. You guys are stuck with my love forever.” 

Trying to drive home the point as much as you can, you look them straight in the eyes to make sure they know how serious you are. Ryan nods and gives you a small smile. Luke has unshed tears gathering at his lash line, and when he nods as well, they pool over and run down his cheeks. You’re quick to wipe them away for him. 

“Is there anything else? Anything else you guys want to talk about while we’re here?” you ask.

“No,” Ryan says softly but strongly. 

“Nothing for me,” Luke echoes. “Oh! Except that I love you.”

Now your eyes start to fill with moisture. 

“I love you, too.” Your words are quiet because you know if you speak any louder, you’ll start full out crying. “Both of you. So much.”

“Mamaaaaaaaa!”

Little hands pound against the driver’s side window, and you look over your shoulder to see Wayne holding Eliza just on the other side of the car door. She’s leaning in towards you, possibly trying to figure out how to get through the glass.

With a soft chuckle, you roll down the window and raise an eyebrow at her.

“Is there something I can help you with, madam?” you ask. 

“Mama!”

“That’s me,” you tell her. A pleasant buzz in your stomach reminds you of just how true that is. 

“We were waiting for ya inside, but she knew you were out here and was adamant about seeing her mama,” Wayne says, adjusting the one-year-old in his arms. 

“I am sorry I took so long, Your Majesty,” you tell the young toddler. “I was having a conversation with your brothers. Is that okay with you?”

“Mama!” is her only response. Then she pauses, thinks about it, and adds, “Dada!”

“He’s not here, squirt,” Ryan says. “But I think next we have to get you working on my name.”

“Mine’s easier,” Luke argues. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Ryan says with a shake of his head. “She’s learning names from oldest to youngest.”

“She skipped me then!” Wayne laments.

“Cause ‘Grandpa’ is harder to say!” Luke informs him. 

“Alright, Little Miss, let’s get you buckled in your seat so Grandpa isn’t late for work,” you say. 

When you pop open your door, Wayne shakes his head and gestures to the back seat.

“You stay there, I can get her in,” he insists.

Luke leans across Eliza’s car seat to open the back door for his grandfather. Wayne leans in and Luke makes sure all the straps and snaps are out of the way, so Eliza won’t be sitting on any. 

When Eliza realizes her brother is there in the backseat, she squeals in delight as Wayne sets her down. Between the older man and the youngest man, they’re able to secure Eliza snugly in her seat.

Wayne presses a kiss to Eliza’s head and reaches to rub over Luke’s curls before he stands up straight and closes the car door. 

“See you kids later,” he says.

You’re included in that, you know. To Wayne, Eddie is still a kid, which means you’ll always be one in his eyes too. But that is something else that you are perfectly okay with. 

“Everyone buckled in?” you ask. 

The boys answer the affirmative and you shift the car into drive. 

“Let’s go home.”

Eddie was running late at work, so he doesn’t walk through the front door until you’re setting dinner on the table. 

He lets out a long sigh and rubs a grease-stained hand over his face. 

“Hey, baby,” he greets you. 

“Hi, gorgeous.” 

You walk over and give him a proper kiss hello, which has his tired face pulling up into a small smile. 

“Dinner’s ready. Why don’t you get cleaned up and then all you have to do the rest of the day is relax.”

Eddie grunts in agreement, nodding his head before he shuffles down the hallway.

You chuckle to yourself as you finish getting dinner on the table.

“Okay, Liza Bean!”

She’s happily roving around the kitchen and living room in her pink walker, but she scoots over to you at the sound of her name.

“Time for dinner.”

You scoop her up and bump the walker with your leg to make it roll into a corner and out of the way. Eliza gets set in her princess high chair and her tiny hands bang on the tray as she awaits her food.

“Gotta wait for the men of the family, you.”

She coos when you press a kiss to the top of her soft, downy baby hair. Eliza continues her drum solo as you take a few steps into the hallway and call, “Boys! Dinner!”

The middle schoolers make it to the table before their father, so you start doling out the food onto everyone’s plates. Eddie saunters out, looking much better and more energized now that he’s no longer covered in dirt and grime. 

Eddie takes his seat at the head of the table and manages to give your ass a light swat as you walk past him. You giggle, despite hearing Luke pretending to gag. 

Once you take your seat, you pick up your glass of water and take a sip. 

“Want some peas, Liza?” You spoon a handful onto her plate, and she immediately grabs one and smooshes it into her mouth.

“Mama, can I have some more applesauce?” Luke asks.

Eddie’s breath hitches as his eyes meet yours. The warm and elated smile you give him tells him all that he needs to know for right now. Pressure forms behind his own eyes and he clears his throat before spearing a chunk of meatloaf with his fork. He does his best to push the emotions down for now, but he can’t help but beam from ear to ear. 

“That depends,” you respond to Luke as you pick up the jar of cinnamon applesauce.

“On what?” Luke asks. 

Your grin grows to match Eddie’s.

“Say it again.”

It takes Luke a second but then he laughs.

“Mama, can I have some more applesauce, please?”

“Mama! Mama!” Eliza cheers.

“You guys,” Ryan whines, giving an over-the-top roll of his eyes to show he’s not being serious. “You're gonna drive her crazy. Be nice to Mama.”

You feel as if you could explode from all the happiness growing inside of you. All three of your babies calling you “Mama” right in a row? A giddy light-headedness takes hold of you, and you can’t help but giggle girlishly. 

“I’m Mama,” you say to no one in particular as you hand Luke the jar of applesauce. 

“Well, now I feel left out,” Eddie says, letting his fork drop onto his plate. 

“Mama,” Eliza says, looking at her father.

“Oh yeah, you little wisecracker? Rubbing it in?” Eddie narrows his eyes at her and the baby giggles.

“You can say, ‘mama’ too,” Ryan tells him.

“Ah, I’m not gonna say it just for the hell of it,” Eddie says with a dismissive hand wave. “There has to be a reason.” 

He picks his fork back up, but as soon as he spears another piece of meatloaf, he drops it again, the utensil clinking against the ceramic dinner plate. 

“Wait! I got it,” he says. 

You raise an eyebrow at your husband as he sits up straighter and clears his throat. Whatever is about to happen should be interesting.

“Mamaaaa, just killed a man! Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he’s dead!”

Both you and the boys start laughing, which makes Eliza laugh as well.

“Mamaaaa, life had just begun!” Luke continues the song, “But now I’ve gone and thrown it all awaaaaay!”

“Mamaaaa, ooooooh!” Ryan picks up the next piece. “Didn’t mean to make you cry! If I’m not back again this time tomorrow, carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” you say as you stand up. “Bravo, everyone.” 

You give a slow clap as you walk over to your iPod dock on the counter. Its music kept you company while you were making dinner, but now it’s about to serve another purpose. Little clicks fill the quiet as you scroll through your small silver iPod and make sure to increase the volume from where you had it before. 

“If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to do this right,” you say as you come upon the correct song. “And we need to start teaching Eliza how to headbang, even if she doesn’t have a whole lot of hair to whip around yet.”

The moment you press play, the opening notes of Bohemian Rhapsody fill the air. As you walk back to your seat, you slowly wave your hands in front of you, as if you were conducting the tinkling music. 

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality

Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see

Luke slides off of his chair and walks on his knees over to you, hands clasped together just below his chin as he sings the next line to you.

“I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy.”

His theatrics make you chuckle, and you run your hand down the side of his face. 

Because I'm easy come, easy go

Little high, little low

Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me

“Okay, we all ready for the next line?” you ask, tugging Luke up off the floor and half onto your lap. 

Ryan nods and you grin as Luke wraps an arm around your shoulders and leans his head against yours.

“Two, three…” Eddie counts down before everyone at the table—sans the very confused and entertained baby—belts out the next line.”

“Mamaaaaaaaaa!”

[jasvtsc]

dean winchester x angel!reader. pt.2

you squinted your eyes and tilted your head to the side, intently observing a small creature sitting in front of you. it mimicked your movement and wiggled its long tail. its black fur shone in the moonlight and its green eyes were carefully studying you. you hummed, slightly pursing out your lower lip and the creature let out a sound of its own — soft and barely audible.

“birdie!” dean called out, looking around for you.

you were on a witch hunt in some heavily abandoned town. you dealt with them pretty easily and now, it was the time to go back to the bunker. however, your wandering tendencies decided to show up, leaving dean stressed out with where you could possibly be. sure, you were an angel which meant that you could disappear wherever and whenever you wanted without much further ado. but you weren’t like cas — you never disappeared without a word. hell, you practically never left dean’s side, always stuck to him like glue. which is why he always worried about your little wandering off.

finally, he spotted you in some back alley, standing in the middle with that curious stance. he already knew the expression that would be formed with your heavenly features — you’d have a small pout on your lips, your nose scrunched and your eyes slightly squinted. by now, he was well aware of how you looked when something enticed you. you were like a curious kitten who escapes to explore the world. which he loved — you looked so pretty and he just wanted to cup your face and shower you with small kisses. he was absolutely smitten with you.

as soon as he got closer to you, he smiled, seeing what caught your attention. you were eyeing a black kitten as interested in you as you were in it. dean chuckled and approached you, putting his arm around your waist, and rubbing your side up and down.

“you’re having a staring contest with a lil’ kitty?” he asked with a smile, placing a small kiss on your temple.

“that’s a cat?” you hummed, raising one brow. you only heard about those creatures and never seen them before. but that now changed as you were sizing it up. “you said they were bigger.”

“they are but not that much more. unless you’re talking about tigers. then yeah, they’re bigger,” he admitted with a nod, trying to figure out the answer that’d be satisfying enough for you. “anyway, come on, birdie. let’s head back to the bunker. man, i’m beat,” he groaned, taking a step away and patting your ass to which you shot him a glare, receiving that cocky smirk in response. “come on. or else you’re flying back home,” he snorted, clearly proud of himself for his little joke.

you rolled your eyes and waved him off. “sure, sure, yeah. give me a second.”

“are you seriously going to continue staring at that cat?” he sighed in exasperation, placing his hands on his hips. he loved you and your curiosity, but he was tired and he had to drive back to the bunker. he just wanted to be back in his bed, cuddling with you or doing more unholy things. last time, you looked so pretty on top of him the last time and he needed to make it happen again asap!

“no,” you said matter-of-factly. dean was ready to sigh in relief when suddenly your next words caused him to choke on air. “i’m gonna take it,” you said with a small smile, biting your lower lip. and with that, you picked the kitten up as it purred happily in your arms.

“no. no way in hell. nuh-uh,” he shook his head, pointing his finger at you. “first of all, you don’t even know how to take care of this thing,” he tried his best to reason with you.

“what’s more to it than feeding and petting it? it’s like taking care of you. same thing,” you said with a frown, shrugging your arms. dean gave you an exasperated look, staring at you for a longer moment.

“seriously? did you just compare me to a cat?” he didn’t know whether he should be offended by that or what.

“am i wrong though?” you pointed back at him and raised a brow.

“fine,” he grumbled and rolled his eyes. “still, we’re not taking it. i’m allergic to cats.”

“so what? you just won’t be around it,” once again, dean was stunned by how straightforward you were being. as if it was that simple.

“you just said you prefer a cat over your own boyfriend. i’m hurt, birdie,” he gasped, theatrically putting his hand on his chest, but quickly put on a more stern expression. “seriously, it doesn’t work like that.”

“then i’ll just heal you. as simple as that,” you shrugged, walking past him with the kitten in your arms. “come on, look how adorable it is,” you cooed with a pout, nuzzling the kitten in your arms. and dean hated how his heart seemed to melt because of that.

“you’re unbelievable,” he sighed, following after you.

“i’ll let you hit from the back,” and that was enough to make dean’s eyes light up.

“so what do we name this little fella?” he asked with a huge grin, catching up to you and scratching the kitten behind its ear. he was a simple man — he’d do anything for you anyway, but if you would let him hit after? 

oh, he was down on his knees for you.

a/n: don’t mind me i’m just here to spread soft!dean agenda and how he’s absolutely down bad for his angel !!

༄♡ tags: @internetitgirl17 @beausling @deanswidow @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @figthoughts @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell