#drabbles in the replies

[zevrra]

thinking about jerking Vik off till he cries and can't think he's such a smart man with so much on his mind all the time he deserves a break where he doesn't have to think AND IM WILLING TO GIVE IT TO HIM..- ram-anon

includes: giving viktor a ‘helping hand’ [mdni, smüt, händjob, öral (m receiving)]

ft. bottom!viktor x gn!reader

extra: RAAA!! thank you for this juicy request i loved writing it so much like breathless, whiney viktor AAA SAVE MEEE!! anyway thank you for the thought i loved this so much kshdkh

you could tell how frustrated viktor had been recently. from the countless nights of sleeping at the lab to the several crumpled up pieces of paper spread along his desk; he was struggling with his latest project. but unfortunately that came with him not sleeping for days— which left you just as frustrated as he was. but when you finally managed to rip viktor away from his work, just long enough to go home and change, possibly eat something, you were reluctant to let him go back to the lab. and the only way you could get him to relax and turn that big brain of his off was to force him to think about only you.

so, after his shower you force him to sit down in a chair in your shared home, planting kisses along his body while you adjust his legs to lay more comfortably for what you had planned.

“my love, what are you doing?” viktor sighs, running a hand across his face as he melts into the chair even though he really shouldn’t. “i need to get back to the lab.”

“nuh uh, you’re going to sit there and relax.” you order with a slight smile. your hands running down the front of his chest and down his thighs, making a slow descent in between his parted legs.

vik lifts an eyebrow at you as you speak, not really understanding what you mean by ‘relax’. you’re unraveling his towel from his thin waist while vik watches on with a tired gaze. and it must have been the several sleepless nights stuck at the lab to cause him to process this so slowly because it takes you fully wrapping a hand around his soft shaft before he even reacts to what you’re doing. his droopy, exhausted eyes fly open wide as your fingers softly grasp around him.

he is definitely awake now. good.

“no more work. no more lab. you need to take a break, v. think of me and only me. right here, right now.” you instruct the man, effortlessly cutting him off before he could protest you, while slowly stroking up towards his head. in response vik sucks a tight breath in through his clenched teeth, amber eyes settling on you in a look of slight irritation. not to worry though, his gaze would quickly soften as time went on for you two; soon he’d look upon you with pleasure in those pretty eyes of his.

unsurprisingly it only takes a few strokes to make vik fully hard. it was all but a simple thumb press against the slit of his head, sliding your fingers across his sensitive tip, before stroking down his shaft to turn him into putty in the palm of your hand; while his own fingers grip the arms of the chair. he groans, eyes fluttering as you press your thumb against his sensitive tip again. soaking in every moan that slips past his lips as your hand jerks him off. stroking him from base to tip, slow and steady, planting kisses along his left knee and thigh.

you move your hand faster at vik‘s sweet moans. taking a second to glance up at his pretty face as he turns bright red, even to the tips of his ears, as he tries his best to look at you through the pleasure.

“you’re so pretty viktor.” you praise against his knee as your hand moves faster. sliding your free hand to grab the base of his cock while your other hand moves faster against his sensitive head, smearing precum every which way.

vik whimpers at your touch and your words. his body tensens as you use both hands along his shaft. his breath hitches in his throat with another whimper, tears clinging to his pretty eyelashes as your hand rubs over his sensitive tip again and again. god, he looked so good like this. under your work, head tilted back, fingers trembling, struggling to sit still, slipping in his chair, and whimpering your name like a prayer.

you needed to get him out of that damn lab more often.

your mouth waters at the sight of the man before you. you lean forward, spit rolling off your tongue and dripping onto the slit of his head before you follow its path and slip him into your mouth.

“d-darling!” vik cries, thrusting his hips upwards and forcing more of himself into your mouth. you take him with ease as he practically fucks himself into your mouth now.

he’s rapidly coming undone now. his fingers manage to tangle into your hair while his hips move erratically. you suck harshly when his cock hits the back of your throat, spit slipping down your chin, causing vik to moan your name.

oh he’s so pathetic and sweet like this. rutting helplessly into your mouth, slipping in the chair he sits in because he’s so eager to come; mind blank with only the thought of how good your mouth feels.

“mmph! i can’t, please!” viktor sobs. his mouth falling open with sinful moans and whimpers. his pretty eyes fall close as he whines your name again and again, chest heaving with every breath he semi-struggles to take as his orgasm burns through his entire being. “coming!” the words slip off his lips with little warning as his climax surges through him. his back arches slightly, forcing the rest of his cock into your throat as he comes.

you keep your mouth wrapped around him until he finally stops moving and his hips do not falter or stop until he’s entirely spent. you take every drop he spills before he begins to whine from overstimulation; so you slip your lips from his cöck but keep your hand slowly stroking along his shaft.

“do you still want to go back to the lab or should we just keep going?” you ask devilishly, smiling up at viktor’s blushing face.

he blinks in his dazed, post-orgasm state but manages to shyly nod in response. “i want to keep going.” he mutters.

good thing you had already planned to keep going. nothing would stop you from pleasing him so he could forget all of his worries.

[imyourbratzdoll]

Breeding Kink Steve/Bucky eventho you already have a couple of kids 🫣

hi baby! I'm so sorry for taking so long, I hope you like what I wrote.

summary - breeding kink gone wild, your husbands take it to the next level by forever wanting you to carry their child.

warning - smut, breeding kink, sorta dubcon but not really, mentions of pregnancy, creampie, threesome.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

“C’mon, Doll. Let us pump you full, want you to have our babies.” Bucky groans in your ear, pressed against your back where you can feel his bulge. You whine, letting out a breathy whimper as Steve grips your hips, pressing soft kisses to your neck, occasionally marking it as well.

“What do you say, Sweetheart? Wanna be full of our cum?”

You squirm, vision becoming hazy as lust clouds your mind. “B–but, we already have two…” Your head falls back, moaning loudly as their cocks slide inside of you without much warning. You didn’t even see them take their cocks out. Your cunt clenches around them, arousal dripping down their thick members, making it easier for them to thrust into you.

“Doesn’t matter, Doll. We wanna breed you forever and watch you grow with our child.” Bucky thrusts in and out, hands sliding up your body until they grasp your breasts. His moans so close to your ear that it causes tingles to spread throughout your body, your cunt clenching around your men. 

Steve groans, biting down on his bottom lip hard as he looks down at you with dark eyes. Your own cloudy ones connect with his, lips parting as you feel them pulse inside of you, gripping them tightly when they hit your sweet spot. Steve’s eyes roll to the back of his head and groans slip past his lips as he pounds into you hard and fast, feeling your little cunt clench around him from his brutal thrusts. 

They continue to have their way with you, fucking you so hard that you see stars. Your juices squirt out of you, causing their cocks to twitch and pump you full of their cum once again. Filling you with large amounts that will likely be the cause of your next pregnancy. Steve and Bucky take turns kissing your lips before cleaning you up. They lay you down on your large bed and grin as they caress your stomach, waiting for the moment you pop this one out for them to start all over again. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[rawjutsu]

chapter two.

pairing: snow leopard hybrid!gojo x bunny hybrid!femreader

keep up here

while you’re not fully adjusted to city life yet, it’s getting easier. you don’t think you’ll ever be completely accustomed to living with gojo satoru, but that’s getting a little easier too.

you’ve learned some survival tricks. like always showering before him. and always putting on a sweatshirt—or at least a bra—before you leave your room, because he loves keeping the ac cranked to arctic tundra levels. another thing?

don’t try to befriend him. because he will take it too far.

you’d figured, since you're stuck living with this guy until you can afford your own place, you might as well try to get along. you can’t help it if your rabbit instincts scream predator every time he so much as glances your way—but you can try to ignore them.

it starts with dinner. you’ll never forget the first time you sit across from him at the little kitchen table, sliding over a plate of leftover sushi rolls with a shaky little “thanks for letting me crash here” smile.

satoru freezes mid-bite, blinking like a cartoon character. then he flashes you that grin that makes your fur stand on end.

“aww, how sweet. bunny girl’s finally coming around.”

now… dinner becomes routine.

you still flinch when his knee bumps yours under the table, but the urge to flee has dulled into a low, steady thrum instead of a full-blown siren.

dinner was tolerable. then satoru started insisting on tagging along for errands. he called them “roomie bonding days.” grocery shopping. helping you lug a new dresser up five flights of stairs. even walking with you to the landlord’s office to drop off rent checks.

it was weirdly domestic. and the rabbit part of you—wired to crave comfort and routine—secretly loved it, no matter how hard you tried to stifle it.

like now, when you’re checking out at the grocery store and satoru swipes his card before you even unzip your wallet, the old lady cashier squints at the two of you and makes a little noise.

“you and your boyfriend make quite the pair,” she says, nodding as she bags up satoru’s absolutely unholy mountain of meat.

you laugh politely. “he’s not my boyfriend, ma’am.”

satoru’s already grinning. “nah, but she wishes.”

you scowl, but the old woman completely ignores him.

“oh, that’s a relief,” she says, casual as anything.

you both blink. “…oh?”

she hesitates, then continues, “well… the world’s different now, i know that. but a small hybrid like yourself should really be with others like you. biology is biology,” she adds, like she’s saying something wise, not offensive. she flashes gojo a tight little smile. “it just wouldn’t work.”

you open your mouth to laugh awkwardly—keep the peace, be nice—but then something warm wraps around your waist.

you freeze. it’s satoru’s tail.

it curls around you like it belongs there.

“oh, it works, lady,” he says, dangerously smooth. “matter fact—”

he reaches toward the display near the register, grabs something, and slams it on the counter with a smirk.

“—ring this up for me.”

you look down. your brain short-circuits. a box of extra extra large condoms stares back at you.

the cashier sputters like she’s choking on air.

your mouth opens. no sound comes out.

then satoru hums, looking thoughtful. “hmm… actually, we don’t need ’em.” he grabs your hand and the rest of the bags in one go, then drags you out of the store before you can even breathe.

satoru, to his credit, doesn’t say anything about the deep flush still burning across your cheeks as you storm down the sidewalk, fuming and trying to match his long-legged stride.

“she was an old lady, satoru! you could’ve just ignored her!”

he shrugs, cool and unbothered. “i don’t stand for discrimination.”

“no, you just love humiliating me!”

“humiliating?? that old hag should be the one humiliated.”

“oh my god—the condoms, satoru!”

he stops walking abruptly, turning to face you. there’s that little smile again—and even with his sunglasses on, you can feel the glint in his eyes.

“huh. so that’s what this is about. you mad i didn’t actually buy them?” his voice drops an octave. “don’t worry, little bunny. i’ve got some back home.”

your eyes go wide. "you're an idiot!" you hiss, dropping your grocery bags to the hot concrete. “and you can carry these yourself!”

you whirl around and storm off toward the apartment, small fists clenched at your sides, ears twitching in agitation. your face is burning so bad it practically sizzles under the sun.

you’re back at the apartment, curled up on the sofa and angrily flipping through channels, trying not to feel guilty about ditching him to carry all those bags in the heat.

when he finally walks in, he’s glistening with sweat, white bangs plastered to his forehead, tail swishing like an agitated metronome.

he drops the bags on the kitchen counter with a dramatic sigh. “do you not know what a joke is?”

you scoff. “a joke? it’s a joke to imply you’re having sex with me?”

gojo groans, dragging a hand down his face. “that wasn’t about you. i was putting that crusty old fossil in her place.” he mutters the next part under his breath, “clearly we’re not having sex…”

you don’t hear it.

you frown. “you kept going, even after we left the store!”

he sighs again, this time deeper. “okay. yeah. that was too much. my bad.”

you blink. he looks—ugh—actually guilty. which is disarming. and yeah… he’s still sweaty. you sigh.

“it was a lot. but… i get it. in your own ‘satoru’ way, you were just standing up for yourself. or… for us, i guess. it’s not easy dealing with people like that.”.”

he doesn’t respond, just gives a vague nod, and you grimace.

“also,” you say quickly, “not to excuse your behavior or like… totally erase my anger, ‘cause i am still upset—but i get kind of extra sensitive when my heat’s coming. around certain themes.”

gojo’s expression flickers.

“themes?” he echoes, but his voice is suddenly lower. throatier.

you wave your hands like a maniac. “like—sex themes! i mean—not like sex-sex, just… the concept. and it’s hot! like, the weather is hot! it’s just… a bad combo!”

he lets out a slow exhale and makes a small “oh” sound, lips forming a perfect o. but there’s a tightness in his jaw you didn’t notice before. you think he’s looking at you, but you can’t really tell behind those stupid sunglasses.

“gotcha,” he says a little too fast. “so—no more sex jokes for now.”

“forever,” you deadpan.

“right. yeah.” he waves you off vaguely, turning around and practically bolting toward the hallway. “i’m gonna shower. i’m all sweaty thanks to you. don't bother me.”

he disappears into the bathroom before you can blink.

you frown. that was weirdly abrupt.

later that night, you’re buried in your sheets, eyes wide open as you stare at the ceiling in the dark.

you’ve flipped your pillow three times. turned on the fan. turned it off. even pulled out your phone and scrolled mindlessly through apps you weren’t even looking at.

but nothing helps.

because all you can think about is that damn box.

extra. extra. large.

you groan and bury your face in the pillow.

did he grab it just to mess with the lady? or… had he actually known exactly what size to reach for?

you shift in bed, thighs pressing together as an ache begins to settle deep in your belly. it’s stupid. hormonal. biological. you’re pre-heat, and your body’s craving comfort, intimacy—touch. but even knowing that, your brain still clings to the memory of gojo’s smug grin, his tail wrapped protectively around your waist.

your ears flatten in frustration. you are not going to think about him while you do this.

but ten minutes later, you're digging in your nightstand, grabbing your little pink vibrator. the second it buzzes to life, your breath catches.

you bite your lip and carefully pull your thin shorts down, exposing skin that’s already flushed and damp from the heat. the vibrator presses against your inner thigh first, teasing your sensitive skin as you close your eyes, trying to drown out every noisy thought.

your breath hitches when you finally slide it between your folds, soft and slick. the vibration throbs in waves, teasing your clit, sending sharp jolts of pleasure that make your toes curl.

your free hand grips the sheets tight as your hips start to rock involuntarily, seeking that perfect angle, that perfect pressure. your body trembles with each pulse, hot and sticky with sweat and desire.

you try not to think about him—his long legs, the way his tail sways, those mischievous dark eyes behind the sunglasses—but every memory is like a spark that sets your skin on fire. you imagine his fangs sinking into your neck, his rough tongue flicking over your skin, and your knees clench tighter.

the buzzing grows louder in your ears, mixing with your ragged breathing and the faintest whimpers that escape your lips. your ears flatten, cheeks burning as you squeeze your eyes shut, picturing the way your nose scrunches when you glare at him, how your floppy ears pull back in fear or frustration.

you’re so close now, hips trembling with the delicious tension, your heartbeat pounding in your ears like thunder.

you don’t know it, but just a wall away, satoru’s eyes snap open.

his ears twitch.

and then flatten back against his head.

the low, steady hum of your vibrator is faint—but he hears it. he can’t not hear it. his hearing picks up everything. the way your breathing catches. the soft shuffle of your sheets.

and that tiny, nearly inaudible moan.

gojo clenches his jaw so hard it aches. his fists twist in his sheets. his cock is already hard, throbbing against the band of his sweats, angry and hot and desperate.

but he doesn't move.

he just lays there, teeth bared, tail flicking in agitation.

this is your fault.

you're the one touching yourself.

you're the one being unbearably cute and annoyingly sexy without even trying.

and he's the one losing sleep over it.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

taglist: @satorupied, @mashtura, @auucz, @littlemissfix-itfic, @luv3nti, @sukunawhores, @nx-0w, @rh-tg1, @sugacor3, @victoria1676, @arabellasolstice, @qardasngan, @entr4p3, @maddy24207, @maah-sama, @izzybluebells, @penguingirlanzu, @levislug, @moonlight-inthe-sea, @coffeeluvr96, @surethingmoto, @shokosbunny, @kaboomkayla, @ddumgum, @nanam1nz, @universal-s1ut, @sixtiesweetheart, @sleepyyammy, @ilovebeansyay, @mxlktae, @gojousatoruswifey, @haithamsbb, @storuhrts, @satorugirlie, @aldebrana, @00anymous00, @lilychan176, @xxwelshqueenxx, @misswonderfrojustice, @thikcems, @pickledsoda, @19catspiledontopofeachother, @fanf1ctionislife

[nezuscribe]

Need more jealous Gojo in my life ngh

if this is about roommate!gojo you’re in luck because it seems like his jealously only worsens over time!

the more he starts seeing you with other guys, be it on a date or just talking to them at a mutual friends party he feels like there’s this knot in his stomach that’s about to send him over the edge.

and it’s weird because he’s never felt this way before. sure he’s dated girls and been in relationships, but to be honest he’s never felt this way for any of them.

but with you it’s different, you’re different.

gojo feels like he can be weird around you with no judgement (maybe a little but its loving judgement!!). he can talk about his shows but it doesn’t matter because you’ll talk right back about this indie movie you just watched.

or he could guzzle down an entire pack of oreos during a late night conversation and you’d just giggle, point to his chin where some crumbs were left.

he laughs with you more than anyone, including geto and shoko, and constantly worries whenever you come home late because of a study group or hanging out with your friends.

so yeah, even if he doesn’t know it, what he’s feeling is unbridled, pure, deep and raging jealously.

and what’s even worse is that you have no idea he feels this way!!

[thesvnandthemooon]

What about Nat experiencing the rage of pregnancy, being terrified of r

oh god.

natasha could write an entire book on this, but it wouldn’t be a nice one. she’s always been a little afraid of you, but when you were pregnant? downright terrifying.

she didn’t even have to do much. the smallest things made you see red.

like seeing her throw her dirty jersey on the floor after coming home from practice. natasha usually always cleans up after herself (as she should), but that day, she just…forgot. she forgot one (1!) time. it was enough to get you snapping at her.

“i’m not your maid, romanoff!”

natasha stood in the corner, visibly sheepish. “i know, baby.”

“i’m not your mom either!”, you added, huffing.

“…that implies my mom ever cleaned up after me.”

death glare. natasha? silent.

your jealousy, bad as it was before the pregnancy, skyrocketed. she didn’t have to flirt with other girls (not like she wanted to, anyway). she didn’t even have to look at them. existing in the same space as one was enough.

you’d tug at her sleeve, already looking like you’re about to strangle her. why? because she dared looking into the same direction as another girl.

“you wanna fuck her or what?!”

she started sputtering, her cheeks red. of course, you both remembered what happened at spring break.

“baby, what? no!”

she truly didn’t look at her. she’d never be interested in anyone else, either. she still held your hand extra tight afterwards and made sure to kiss you until you were annoyed.

speaking of kisses — your sex drive had been impressive before, but once you were pregnant, it was insane. like, genuinely worse than natasha‘s (which is definitely an achievement). nat foolishly thought that, hey, during sex it’s basically impossible for her to do anything that’d upset you.

WRONG. all she had to do was even glance in the direction of your belly, and you paused mid-sex. you squinted your eyes and she knew she was in trouble…again.

“you looked at my stretch marks.”

natasha, on the verge of coming, sweat dripping down her temples. “i…did?”

“you think i’m disgusting, huh?!”

and she was panicking once more. no doubt she spent an entire hour kissing every stretch mark she could find. you fell asleep afterwards, which was kind of a relief. you’re cute when you sleep. peaceful, soft, snuggling into her and keeping her close. but, maybe most importantly — you were unable to get mad at her. no yelling, no snapping, no cold shoulders. just warmth.

or so she thought. she didn’t consider the fact that her dream-self could piss you off as well.

it happened the night after a big exam. she was tired. like, exhausted. you both crammed into the narrow bed in her dorm (because you didn’t want to sleep by yourself and, honestly, natasha didn’t want you to, either) and she knocked right out. it was way too tight, but she loved it. you both did. she had the most peaceful sleep of her life. you, half-asleep and on the verge of tears, ruined it by smacking her arm.

“you fucking jerk! what were you thinking?”

in retrospect, you’d feel bad for natasha. she was confused and sleepy, rubbing her eyes and stuttering. “i…uh…what?”

then, tears. she immediately sat up. “you cheated”, you sobbed. “in my dream. with some bimbo.”

“in your dream? are you kidding me?”

“yes, in my dream! what, you thinking about leaving? huh?? tell me, you bastard!”

(no, she wasn’t thinking about leaving. but she was definitely thinking about sleeping in the fucking hallway instead.)

that’s not the only time you woke her up, though. during your pregnancy, the most random things tended to annoy you. the smell of cheese, for example. someone looking at you too long. your clothes not fitting anymore. worst of all? certain sounds.

it wasn’t constant, thankfully. but during a few days of your pregnancy, natasha’s breathing seemed to offend you. it wasn’t particularly loud or anything. she wasn’t even doing much — she was just sitting there, working on a paper and sipping black coffee. you were beside her, looking for baby clothes and ways to shut her up.

“stop breathing like that.”

“like what??”

“like that.”

she stared at you, eyebrows furrowed. “baby, i kinda have to breathe.”

“yes, but not like a fucking horse.”

she was holding her breath after that, hoping it wouldn’t end in another fight.

she thought it’d only bother you while you’re awake. she was wrong about that.

to be fair, not being able to sleep is bad enough already. but not being able to sleep because someone is sawing logs? horrible. the worst. wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy.

now you, heavily pregnant and tired and unable to sleep, were stuck in the same bed as someone who just wouldn’t stop snoring. nat usually didn’t snore unless she was sick, but tonight, the odds were stacked against you.

you suffered through her obnoxious freight train-imitation for about five minutes. when not even poking her side or nudging her helped, you reached for the pillow under your head and slapped it over her face. she woke up gasping for air.

“did you just try to smother me in my sleep?!”

“…you were snoring.” (at that point, you felt bad)

“so you thought, ‘oh, let’s try and kill her’??”

“if i wanted you dead, you would be.”

she just stared. after this, she made sure to sleep on her side.

with you, it was either the cold shoulder or full blown rage. natasha never knew what to expect, so she was always left guessing. like a surprise menu, except that you were either serving the silent treatment or absolute war.

nat hated both, but the first option was worse. you wouldn’t even do so much as tell her what she did, so she couldn’t even apologize for whatever she did.

then, the screaming. the fighting. the random accusations. once the hormones wore off, you’d feel horrible — but in those moments, you didn’t care. all you knew was natasha did something inexcusable (she literally left an empty glass in the sink), and that was enough to set you off. explosive arguments over the most random stuff, usually ending in you first sobbing, and then cuddling nat because the guilt suddenly hit. your mood changed so quickly sometimes it actually gave her whiplash.

like, you’d threaten to gut her like a fish. you’d threaten her entire bloodline. and then you’d just suddenly get all sweet and loving and kiss her face, and nat had no choice but to sit there and accept the fact that, until this baby is born, she’ll have to endure this. (and she gladly did, even if she sometimes feared for her life)

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: teen dad!scott barringer x teen mom!reader

Author's note: this a request but my internet was playing jokes on me and it got deleted :// also the baby girl is called ava, as you wanted but I just feel in my bones that scott would affectionately call her mitsy..

FLUFF ❦

SCOTT BARRINGER’s head was half cuddled in a pillow when he felt the first in this hour poke. It was a soft little jab against his exposed cheek, then another, before tiny fingers became more insistent to catch his attention..at 2am. His sleep was already threading through thin ice, causing Scott to easily wake up and let out an exhausted groan, barely managing to crack one eye open. After that, he was immediately met with a pair of wide, bright blue eyes and a messy mop of curls tousled from sleep (or rather lack of it).

“Dada!”

The enthusiasm was off the charts for such early hour

Scott blinked, trying to make sense of the chaos. His brain slow to catch up. “Missy?” he rasped, voice rough.

Beside him, you were half-sprawled over the blankets, one hand fisted in the sheets, still very much unconscious. Your cheek was smushed into the pillow, a tiny snore escaping every few breaths. You were out.

Meanwhile, the little gremlin you two had somehow created last year was squirming happily between you both, chubby hands patting Scott's everything.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Babe,” he mumbled, nudging you hopefully awake. “Your daughter’s insane.”

You just grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like your daughter, rolling over with a groan. Scott snorted.

“Dada!” the baby insisted again, more excited this time, little legs kicking wildly against the sheets. Tiny fist closed around the collar of his t-shirt, trying to tug at it to somehow pull him closer, if possible.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, sitting up. “I’m awake. Jeez.”

She beamed, gummy smile stretching wide and being all bright, eyes crinkling at the corners—just like Scott’s. His chest ached, although he won't admit it to anyone really.

Another glance at the alarm clock told him it was a quarter past two. Great. Perfect. Just perfect. But then his daughter squealed happily, smacking a tiny hand against his jaw, and Scott couldn’t even find it in himself to think of much bigger complains.

So he scooped her up, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “What’s got you all excited, huh?” he whispered, voice soft and fond. “It’s way past your bedtime, missy.” she just giggled of course, grabbing at his face with both, greedy hands, babbling some kind of happy gibberish that Scott was pretty sure was a baby curse word. He grinned, shaking his head. “You are crazy..but that's okay, it's not your fault you got mommy's genes” he murmured, rubbing a thumb over the soft skin of her cheek.

You whined from your spot on the bed, burying your face deeper into the pillow. “You’re both banned from the bed,” you grumbled, words slurred and exhausted, though your voice was all fondness and sleep. "I love her, but—please. Please.”

Scott just rolled his eyes, scooping the baby higher on his hip. “C’mon, trouble,” he murmured to her, smiling. “Let’s give momma some peace.”

So that’s how he ended up on the living room floor at 2:30 a.m., surrounded by a tsunami of pastel toys and fluffy blankets, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips while the baby girl flailed around like a feral toddler. She had to make it a habit, and smacked a stuffed bunny into his face, squealing happily. Scott sighed, catching her tiny hands in his, watching how she drooled over her own smile. Thumbs run over the pudgy soft skin before he did something bold (for someone like him) and pressed kisses to her chubby fingers until she would dissolve into giggles, wiggling around in his lap. He was tired. So tired. A good amount of coffee won't fix that exhaustion. But damn, was it worth it..

And when she finally wore herself out, tiny fists rubbing rather clumsily at her eyes, head drooping against his arm, Scott melted a little. He scooped her up, tucking her beneath his chin, fingers carding through her messy, thin nest of hair. She let out a tiny sigh, cheek smushed against his skin.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Thought you were a big girl, huh?”

She just grumbled something that sounded suspiciously (for Scott who made it his job to analyze her baby language) like ‹dada› and nuzzled deeper into his chest, fingers burying in his shirt, making sure he still will be here when she'll wake up.

Scott smiled, eyes crinkling, thumb brushing over her back in gentle circles. “Love you, little missy,” he murmured, voice low and tender. “Love you so much..”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake

[yanderefarm]

May I request cuddling Emil and telling him how good of a mommy he would be

"mommy" emil

cw;; breeding kink, overstimulation, mess, feminization

this is probably poorly written but isn't everything. i have another request in the inbox of emil with a daddy kink ive been picking at. he can be your mommy or your daddy-

no one would ever expect to see the king in such a pathetic position, it was more befitting a whore than his royal highness. but here he was; cum was dripping down his thighs, a mixture of yours and his own, and his neck down to his chest were covered in bruises, itmarks, and the wet traces of your saliva. you weren't faring much better, emil had left scratch marks on your arms and back that made you look more like you got in a fight with a cat. one of your scratched up arms was wrapped around emil's waist while the other was under his firm thigh holding his leg up. you were both still panting. 

emil let out a pathetic cry when you tried to drag your cock out of his abused hole, his nails once again digging into your arm. you grimaced in pain but you were too tired to say anything opting to whine like a kicked puppy. 

"stay." emil ordered through panted breaths.

you gently released his leg, allowing emil to relax into your arms. he let out a heavy sigh as his head hit your shoulder. 

"baby... let me get you cleaned up." you could feel more of your cum leaking from where you two connected.

"how w-wuh, ngh" his presumably haughty words caught in his throat when you shifted slightly. "stay." 

you couldn't bring yourself to argue with his needy demands, how fucked out he sounded still, nor the warmth of his wet hole. so you simply shifted your bodies to a more comfortable spooning position and you wrapped yourself around him. emil's pretty pink eyes fluttered as exhaustion started to take his body. you helped him along by peppering gentle kisses along the bruises on his neck. just as your husband was starting to drift to sleep he let out a little whine and squirmed against your body. 

"you're going to leave as soon as I sleep." he said like a pouting child. 

you sighed. "i won't leave." 

"you'll pull out and clean up and I'll never get pregnant." 

you stifled a little laugh at his words before you kiss his cheek again. "ok. i promise i won't." 

"i don't trust you." his arms cross in front of his chest as he pouts. 

you let out another heavier sigh. "you're tired, emi." 

"then you should be tired too." more cute pouting. 

"i am tired. that's why we should sleep." you kiss his cheek. 

he just shakes his head, crossing his arms more aggressively to make a point. you pepper more kisses across his cheek until he turns into your kisses. you finally capture his pouting lips and he stops crossing his arms to wrap around one your neck instead. he lets out a pathetic little moan. 

"emi, you're so good for me." you keep one hand on his stomach while the other slides down to massage his thigh. 

"mmgh, you're just trying to trick me" he rolled his head back against your shoulder.

"no" you kissed the corner of his lips. "you did so good tonight."

emil finally smiled, dragging you to kiss him again. "tell me how i'm good." 

"you're so pretty. your skin looks so pretty all marked and messy," your fingers trailed up his sticky skin drawing more soft moans from him. "your moans are so pretty," you let your thumb gently brush against his soft cock causing him to shudder. "you look so pretty taking my cock."

you grunted feeling emil's hole clench around you. you moved your hand back to his stomach immediately trying to hold him still against you. emil hummed, satisfied at your reaction. 

"i am pretty. what else?" he had a cocky smile on his face at that point. 

you sighed, your head falling forward to rest against his shoulder. "you're an arrogant bastard." 

that just earned you a painful tug of your hair. 

you rubbed your hands against his stomach drawing a moan from him. "do you feel that?" 

emil looked down at the bulge in his stomach, his cheeks burning. "thats... you." 

"that's how I'm putting a baby in you." you rubbed the bulge holding back your own moan. "you're gonna be a mommy" 

emil gasped his lips just hanging open. 

"you're gonna be such a good mommy. i can't wait to see you carrying my children." you kissed his cheek as you rubbed wider circles in his stomach. "you'll be so pretty and swollen." 

"i can't." you watched in shock as tears started to brim in emil's eyes. 

"does it hurt?" you stopped your motions. 

emil touched his own stomach replacing your hands. "i can't be a good mother." 

you let out a relieved sigh before you put your hand over his own. "i would be so honored if you would mother my children." 

"i would hurt them..." he started to cry properly. 

you kissed away his tears. "no. you protect you don't hurt." 

"i kill everyone-" you caught his lips and gave him a passionate kiss. he melted into your arms, body relaxing. 

"our children will be so lucky to have you." you reassured him after your lips finally parted. 

"they'll be lucky to have you..." he nuzzled into you. "my pretty husband." 

you pulled him into another passionate kiss, his free hand desperately pulled at you. he rolled his hips purposefully causing you to moan against his mouth. the hand still on his stomach rubbed into the bulge this time causing you both to moan. 

"emi I'm tired." you whined when he finally let your lips part. 

"you're going to put a baby in me tonight." emil pushed you onto your back causing you to let out a whine. he repositioned himself to straddle your lap.

"even if it takes all night."

[angelickks]

Doesn't Make Sense ✮ LION KAMINSKI

request. Do you think you could do one where the reader starts thinking she isn’t good enough for him and he kinda freaks out cause that makes no sense?warning(s). overall comfort fic. some insecurity. swearing. implications to past trauma. canon-typical violence. angel talks. hehe thank u nonnie for the request and the kind words, hope i did this one justice. muah!

#NAV.ᐟ jack o'connell mlist

IT'S LATE.

The kind of late where the world feels suspended, like the motel room exists outside of time—dripping faucet, humming neon, bloodstained towel on the floor.

Lion’s in the shower, door cracked open, steam curling around the frame like a ghost. You can hear him. Quiet movements, the shift of feet on tile, water splashing against his chest. You imagine the bruises, the cuts, the red line above his eyebrow. You sit on the edge of the bed, legs pulled up, wearing his hoodie that smells like sweat and leather and maybe—faintly—cigarettes.

You should feel safe. Warm. Held.

But tonight, something itches beneath your skin. A feeling you haven’t been able to shake.

He came back from the fight with a split lip and a new bruise blooming purple on his ribs. And he didn’t flinch when he saw you. Just walked in, silent, and pressed his forehead to yours like a prayer answered.

Your stomach twists.

You’re supposed to be used to it by now. The aftermath. The blood. The fact that people look at you when you show up on his arm like you’re made of something delicate and breakable, like you shouldn’t be here.

But something about the way people looked at you tonight—too soft, too dolled up, too out of place—made you start thinking.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe you are out of place.

He could have anyone. Someone strong. Someone who doesn’t flinch when the blood starts spraying or cry when he grunts getting out of the ring.

Not you.

Not the girl who packs snacks in his bag and kisses his knuckles like she can erase the damage.

You wipe your cheek fast before he can see.

But the bathroom door swings open a second later and there he is, wet hair pushed back, sweatpants slung low, bruises like shadows against pale skin.

His eyes find you immediately—curled in on yourself, mouth tight.

You don’t look at him, pretending to scroll your phone with a numb thumb. Your throat’s tight, like something’s caught there.

He’s quiet for a second. Then:

“Baby?”

You swallow.

“Yeah?” you murmur, not meeting his gaze.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.” Liar.

Lion doesn’t say anything. He stands still for a moment longer, then crosses the room in five slow, quiet steps. When he gets to you, he kneels. Right on the ugly carpet, face level with your curled-up frame on the bed. Your skin pricks at the sensation of his warm hands on your thighs, thumbs brushing over the fabric of his hoodie on your knees.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice still gravelly from the adrenaline. “What’s wrong?”

You smile, but it’s cracked glass. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Lion freezes.

His entire body goes still like a predator catching wind of something wrong.

You look anywhere but at him.

“I said I’m fine,” you whisper.

He stares at you, long and heavy. Then: “You’re lying.”

You blink, startled. “What?”

He doesn’t let go. Doesn’t move. Just holds your thighs like he’s trying to keep you tethered.

His brow furrows like it physically hurts to say the words.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lie to me.” His voice stays low, but there’s something trembling beneath it now.“Not you.”

You feel the burn rising in your chest and try to blink it away.

He lifts one hand slowly and presses it to your waist, just below your ribs. Warm. Steady. Like a grounding wire.

You hesitate too long. He leans in, almost desperate.

“Please.”

The word hits you like a punch.

Lion doesn’t beg. Lion bleeds and fights and kills if he has to. But now he’s kneeling at your feet, warm droplets of water faintly tracing the scars on his back, calling you out because you won’t tell him what’s clawing at your chest.

So you say it.

“I just…”

A breath.

“I don’t think I’m what you need.”

His face does something you’ve never seen before—like a wall collapsing behind his eyes.

“What?”

“I mean, look at me,” you say with a helpless laugh, gesturing to yourself. “I’m not strong. I get scared when you get hit too hard. I’m soft, and I cry during dumb movies, and I—I make you slow down when you’re trying to move through the world like it doesn’t touch you.”

You look down. “You’d be better off with someone tougher. Someone who understands your world.”

Silence. Thick and brutal.

You power through. “You could be with someone who gets it. Someone who doesn’t panic when you bleed or fuss over every little bruise or beg you to slow down—”

Then—

His hands move.

Not gentle. Urgent.

He grabs your face like he’s trying to memorize it, palms warm on your cheeks, eyes wild. His voice comes low, breathless:

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

You blink. “Lion—”

“No. No, don’t—don’t say shit like that.” His grip tightens just a little. “You think I need someone who watches me bleed and doesn’t care? You think I want some... cold ass girl who doesn’t cry when she thinks I might not come home?”

He leans in closer. Nose brushing yours. His voice drops to a rasp:

“I come home because of you.”

Your breath hitches.

“I step in that ring,” he says, voice trembling with a fury he doesn’t know how to direct, “and I fight like I’ve got a fuckin' reason now. You don’t slow me down—you keep me from turning into something I can’t come back from.”

Your hands tremble as they find his wrists.

“I don’t give a shit if you’re soft. I need soft. I need you to hold me when my hands won’t stop shaking and talk to me about dumb movies and your day while I fall asleep in your lap."

His forehead touches yours again, this time not like a greeting. Like something sacred. His eyes close.

“You’re not just good enough,” he breathes. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever had that’s mine.”

The room sways. Or maybe it’s just your heart giving way.

He pulls back just enough to look at you fully.

“I’ve had nothing but hard my whole life. Fighting. Running. Surviving. You think I don’t know what I’ve got with you?”

You don’t realize you’re crying until his thumbs catch the tears.

“You’re the only thing I don’t feel dirty touching,” he says, voice breaking now. “The only good thing I’ve ever had that doesn’t flinch when I come home broken.”

He kisses your forehead.

Then your cheek. Your temple. The corner of your mouth.

“I look at you,” he breathes, “and it’s the first time I’ve ever wanted to stay still.”

Your arms go around his neck without thinking. Clinging.

And Lion wraps his whole body around you like he could fuse you to him. Pulls you down into the sheets, under the covers, tangled together. You press your face to his chest and cry quietly while his hand moves through your hair, slow and soft.

“You’re mine,” he whispers again and again into your skin. “Mine. My girl. You hear me?”

You nod into his chest.

He kisses your head, your jaw, your hand, like he's trying to prove it in every way he knows how.

“You don’t have to be tough,” he murmurs. “That’s my job, sweetheart. Yours is just to be you.”

The kind of quiet that settles isn’t the uneasy kind anymore. It’s safe. Heavy in the best way—like exhaling after holding your breath too long.

Lion hasn’t moved much since you curled into him. Just his fingers, which have stayed in your hair, lazy and slow, like he could soothe the ache out of your thoughts one gentle stroke at a time. His lips ghosted against your temple every few minutes. No pressure. No expectation. Just presence.

But something’s shifted.

You feel it in the way his touch stills.

The way his breath catches just a little.

He tilts your chin up gently.

“Still with me?” he asks, voice rough at the edges.

You nod.

Your eyes meet his—and there’s nothing hungry in his gaze. Just that same stunned kind of awe he always gives you, like he still doesn’t believe he’s allowed to touch you like this. Like it’s a privilege he hasn’t earned but will never take for granted.

He leans in, slow as the sunrise, and kisses you. Not demanding. Not to take—just to give.

He pulls away like it hurts him to do it, like even a breath of space between you costs him something real. His hand lingers at your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly beneath your eye before he leans in again, presses a kiss to your forehead. It’s slow. Intentional. Almost sacred.

His voice is barely above a whisper, warm and steady against your skin.

“You never have to wonder if you’re enough,” he says, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. “You were it, baby. Always. From the first second I saw you.”

And in the warmth of his hold—skin against skin, heart against heart—you believe it.

You believe him.

[technically-human]

Hi i'm absolutely in love with the reverse au!!

I want to know, in this verse does edwin still confesses to charles? if so how is it different? i feel if he did he would end it by apologizing, you know, religious guilt and all

There’s a train that goes through Hell.

Its journey starts in Wrath, and it departs already full of souls. It took Charles far too many years to realize that there were separate, more spacious wagons that demons could board. Not that he could understand why anyone, hellborn or not, would want to get into the damned thing. He certainly hadn’t.

Actually, Charles couldn’t recall ever boarding the train. As far as he could tell, he just appeared there one day, and had spent the next tortuous decades trying to get out. It was part of the torture. Getting out was entirely possible. More than that, it was necessary.

The train had no regular schedule that he could discern (not at first, though he had always been good at finding patterns, and was eventually able to crack it) but it would make quite a few stops before finally returning to the Wrath ring. Souls inside the train were already angry and far too close to each other (close, so close not even air could squeeze in) but when they got really violent was when the train made a stop.

Getting out didn’t mean you were free, no matter where you managed it, be it Sloth or Gluttony, Pride or Lust. No, as soon as the train finished its journey, you would appear back inside, in Wrath where you belonged, suffocating once again, getting ready to claw your way out for the millionth time.

Because if you didn’t get out, The Conductor would get you.

If he thought about it calmly, Charles could probably say that he got out of the train more times than not. Still, being caught by The Conductor once was bad enough, as there was no coal in Hell, and something had to serve as combustible. Souls could not burn to death, and the whole journey always felt longer than eternity when he was caught. Once it was over, he would be inside again, and fight with more desperation than before, not caring who stayed inside so long as it wasn’t him.

He couldn’t understand why anyone, hellborn or not, would want to get into the damned thing. He certainly hadn’t. But as the souls pushed and bit and clawed and punched their way out, Edwin boarded the train. And that wasn’t even the most groundbreaking revelation Charles had that day.

ko-fi

[sunday-bug]

Can you write something about Bucky forgetting to put back on his wedding ring and you being over dramatic about it (in a joking way?) Please and thank you!

So cute and relatable, yes - this is pretty short. I hope that's okay.

Pairing: Husband!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 0.3k

Content: just fluff

You stroll hand in hand down the crowded lane, people passing by walking dogs, carrying bags of produce, and sipping coffee. The weekend farmer’s market is a ritual for you and Bucky. Every Sunday you go to your favorite coffee shop to get something other than his steady cup of Folgers and to split an apricot croissant. After some caffeine, you walk through the market picking out fruits and veggies for your weekly meals, along with a bouquet of cut flowers and a fresh loaf of bread. You look forward to it every week. And now so does Bucky. He’s come to rely on your slow Sunday routine, enjoying a walk with his wife through the crowd to start his week off right.

As you hold his hand, your fingers notice a missing piece of significance. “Excuse me, where is your wedding ring?”

He immediately removes his hand from yours and looks down. “Oh, wow, I must have left it on the bathroom counter after my shower.”

“You just don’t want to be married today, huh?” You tease. “I get it, there's a lot of eligible bachelorettes hunting around the farmer’s market for a six foot stud like you.”

“Well, hopefully they find someone single,” he jokes, intertwining your fingers once more. “I’m spoken for. Happily.”

You pull his hand up with yours, “Apparently not!”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling as he grins. He pulls the loaf of bread you’ve just purchased out of your canvas bag and undoes the twist tie keeping it sealed. He then knots the bag up to keep the bread fresh and fashions the twist tie into a circle around his ring finger. “There, we’re married again.”

You giggle and reach on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Mr. Barnes. I can’t have you getting stolen out from under me.”

“I don’t have eyes for anyone but you, sweet pea,” he whispers. “My Mrs. Barnes.”

Taglist:

@ruexj283

@sebastianstan0813

[fbfh]

Thinking about lazy morning sex with Jason Grace. Making him feel so wanted because you’ve just woken up and there’s a million things you could be doing but all you want is him. Imagine his brain short circuiting at the concept of being the first thing you want when you wake up. He’s not an afterthought anymore and he just can’t wrap his head around it.

Jason is so sweet in the morning. He's all disoriented and drowsy, his eyes are all puffy from sleep and his glasses are sitting on the night table where he left them last night. his blonde hair looks like he got struck by lightning, which in all honesty wouldn't surprise you knowing him. his cheeks are all flushed and his muscles are all soft and relaxed. he's never been relaxed before ever, and it's only since he started sharing a bed with you, snuggling up with you and feeling your soft little good night kisses that he's known what peace feels like. so that particular morning, birds and cicadas singing outside, the ac blasting cold air over you and your blonde superman of a boyfriend, you just can't resist him. you're so right that he's not used to not being an afterthought. this is literally Jason whenever you express how much you love him or even do the bare minimum, much less treat him the way he deserves to be treated. you're like I love you so much and he's like whhhat??? whhat is going on????? what the hhhell are you tahlking about?????????? then you kiss him and his brain short circuits. this morning in particular you just can't resist him. you start peppering his puffy sleepy face in kisses. he's barely awake, he's blinking one eye at a time and thinks it's dream. then you climb on top of him, and that really wakes him up. his brain understands unbelievably horny hottie and sitting on my morning wood, but he can't get much further than that. he can't connect the two, make himself realize that he's the reason you're like this. and quite frankly if he did his head and balls would explode so violently neither of you would come back from that. so as you ride him, languid and lazy, soaking in every electrifying sensation of pleasure shared between you two, as you indulge yourself in touching him, kissing him, anywhere and everywhere you possibly can, you decide this is a good starting point. your breathing gets faster and you keep moaning out his name, sighing it into his lips over wet, messy kisses that just get deeper and deeper and he can't believe his ears. but he really wants to. you decide this is a good place to start. maybe after a few more weeks of riding his morning wood till he's nice and soft, he'll start to get the hint that you really, really like him. like, a lot.

[zevrra]

(to that one anon who requested just the tip w/ jayce,,,,,,i owe you my life AAAAAA,,,,)

“You look so good,” Jayce groans against the curve of your neck. His large hands roam your body, groping every inch of you that he could touch as he hugs you from behind. You were dressed for one of his political parties he had asked you to accompany him too and here he was, feeling you up, going to make you both more than fashionably late. His fingers hook around the edge of your long dress, slowly teasing the fabric up inch by inch while his breath tickles the back of your neck. His teeth scrape across your skin as his fingers dance over your revealing thighs. “Need you baby…”

You bite back a moan, feeling every slow press, curl, and skim of his fingers along your skin. “Jayce,” You huff under your breath, finally reacting to his advances by moving your hands to grip around his wrists. “We’ll be late…can’t wait until after the party?”

“No.” Jayce responds firmly. Making it an obvious point to grind himself against you, letting you know just how hard he was. “Please. You look so good, just need a taste.” He adds with a soft chuckle. He follows up by placing a tender, hot kiss against your neck while his fingers slip right up against the curve of your cunt.

His fingers press once more against your center and you instinctively grip his forearms just a little tighter, as a gasp leaves your lips. “Jayce—“ You whine his name again but it practically falls on deaf ears while his fingers continue to flex and curl against your core.

“Already wet for me.” He mutters, teasingly, and you can feel him smiling against your neck. He lifts your dress up high, pulling it up to reveal your underwear to him. His favorite nonetheless too…since you had planned for this moment for the afterparty. Yet now it only riles him up further. “Here, hold up your dress for me.” He adds in a hushed whisper, too turned on to be reasoned with…and at this point, so are you.

You do as you’re told. Gripping the hem of your dress that he had hiked up, high enough for him to run a finger beneath the pretty panties you wear; where he quickly yanks them off to the side. You’re slightly bent in half, exactly where he positions you, as he grips one of your legs and lifts it off the ground just a little.

“Don’t want to ruin the pretty dress you got me.” You rasp, breathlessly, as Jayce presses a single finger inside of you. Curls said finger, draws it out, thrusts it back inside before adding a second. Pressing both fingers inside, flushed up onto his second knuckle, all to stretch you out. Damn him for being so good with his hands because it only takes a couple of seconds of his work to turn you into a mess. “Just the tip.” You bark out, biting down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan just as you listen to Jayce undoing his pants.

“Just the tip.” Jayce agrees, removing his fingers and slowly replacing them with just the tip of his cock; as promised. He presses his head flush between your lips, gathering your slick and his own alike, lifting his hips just a little to slip the tip inside of you. A harsh groan leaves his lips but he controls himself, behaves so well, as he presses only the tip of his aching cock inside your wet cunt. “After the party though…you’re all mine.” Jayce states, promising to you that he would not be so gentle and obedient later…and just like that, your putty in his damn hands; the party long forgotten.

[imyourbratzdoll]

hiii baby 🤍

weird request maybe…

But reader being tired of dating but really wanting a baby…like she just really doesn’t want to wait for the perfect man to settle down with, but she really really really wants a baby.

So she asks childhood!bestfriend!bucky or like childhood!bestfriend!CE!Character to impregnate her…

He (being secretly in love with her) agrees, so they make one 😩

hi honey! not weird at all! I loved this, I'm hoping I did it justice and that you love it!

summary - you've decided to stop going on dates when the last one fails and go to your best friend for the thing you desperately want.

warning - smut, breeding kink, unrequited love (or not), horrible dates, creampie, swearing, slight angst.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You sigh, having just come back from yet another failed date. No man seemed to live up to the expectation you were looking for. You sagged into the couch, kicking your shoes off and beginning to massage your temples. “Ugh, I’ll never find the perfect man to settle down with…” You look down at your stomach, and your mind fills with images of you being pregnant. Your eyes blink it away as you rub your belly. “I just want a baby… Is that so hard?” 

Your eyes widen when you realise you have the perfect plan. Bucky! He’s your best friend, an ideal option for a sperm donor. You quickly dig through your purse and pull out your phone, unlocking it and quickly sending him a message. 

‘Hey, are you able to come over? I have something important to ask you.’ You send the text, gnawing on your bottom lip as you wait for his response, watching the three little dots appear. 

‘Sure, I’ll be there in 10 minutes with your favourite snacks.’ 

You smile, quickly jumping up and running to your room. You strip from the clothes you sadly wasted on your date and changed into a red lingerie set that Bucky got you for your birthday. You smirked when you remembered how flushed Bucky looked as you opened the gift bag and promised to show him one day. You walk over to the mirror and fix your make-up, reapplying your red gloss. 

When you hear the door unlock, you quickly throw on your silk robe and head out of your room, ready to greet Bucky. He enters and smiles when he sees you waiting there for him. His heart practically pounds out of his chest as you smile back at him, walking over and wrapping your arms around his body. “Hey, I got us some Chinese.” He wraps one arm around you, tightly holding the bag of food with the other. 

“You came so fast!” Your cheeks heat up at the innuendo of your words. You don’t notice the pout on his lips as you pull away from him and begin to walk toward the lounge room. “C’mon, I’d feel better asking you the thing while sitting down… I don’t really know how you’ll feel about it.” Your chew on your bottom lip, your nerves getting to you as you realise if he says no, you’ll possibly be ruining a good friendship.

Bucky follows you like a lost puppy, practically feeling your nerves radiating off of you. His eyes shamefully land on your arse, watching your hips sway as you walk before him. “So, uh… How did your date go?” This would be the tenth date this week that you’ve been on, and as your best friend, Bucky knows all about them and how lately they haven’t been going well. Except for his heart that constantly broke every time you told him you had a date with everyone but him. Bucky sits beside you, pulling out the hot food and handing you your usual. 

“Shit like the others.” You immediately begin to stuff your face with food, starving from storming off during the date. “From the moment we met, all he spoke about was himself and the women he’s been with. Then when we sat down to eat, he ordered for me, but when I stood up for myself and ordered what I wanted. He decided to call me a cow and fat and that no man would ever love me if I didn’t let them take control of my life.” You growl, shovelling more food in your mouth. You swallow and look at Bucky, noticing the angry look behind his eyes but deciding to ignore that. “But, I came to a conclusion. You know how much I’ve been wanting a baby and have been trying to find the perfect man to settle down with.”

Bucky nods before frowning. “Please don’t tell me you're going to just sleep with one of these guys to get one.” His brows furrow. “You deserve more than that. You deserve someone that will be there for you and the baby.”

You wave him off, sucking some juice off your thumb. “Of course not. I had someone better in mind.” Your eyes connect with him, and Bucky’s brows raise when he puts the pieces together. “I want you to impregnate me, Bucky.”

“Y–you–” He swallows, blinking rapidly, wondering if he heard you right.

“I want you, Bucky. Just imagine how cute our baby would be, but I understand if you say no and no longer want to be–”

“Yes.”

“B–”

“Yes.” Bucky immediately scoots closer and cups your cheeks. “I’ll pump you full until you are carrying my child.” You feel slick gather between your thighs, turned on by his words. Bucky’s hands move down and undo your robe, choking on his saliva when his eyes land on the red lingerie set he had bought you. “You’re so beautiful…” He whispers, staring for a while before looking into your eyes. “D–do you want to go slow or…” Bucky swallows, knowing that you weren’t doing this because you felt anything for him. You were doing this to get a baby.

“Fast, for now, I just need you.” You whimper. You grasp the back of Bucky’s head and pull him toward you, devouring his lips with yours. “Please, fuck a baby into me.”

Bucky catches the for-now part, causing his heart to jump, knowing there might be another time. His breath catches as your lips connect, swearing that fireworks went off. His hand lands between your legs and begins to rub you through your knickers, letting out a moan as he feels how wet you are. “D–did you touch yourself before I got here?” 

You shake your head, “No, no….” You whine, back arching and legs spreading more as he touches you. Bucky feels his cock harden more when he realises he made you wet. “Bucky, please.” You blink the tears away, so overwhelmed with your feelings for your best friend and your horniness. You hadn’t been touched in so long, and to have Bucky finally touch you with the promise of putting a baby in you intensifies it.

Bucky leans back, giving you a look. “Are you sure about this? Because once I start, I really don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” You nod rapidly, gripping any part of him that you can. He places a hand under your chin. “I need words, Y/n.” 

“Yes, Bucky. I’m sure I want this.” You watch him remove your clothes, followed by his, and you gasp as your eyes land on his member. “You’re so big…” Bucky strokes his cock, lining it with your sopping cunt. As he pushes in, Bucky leans forward and connects his lips with yours, swallowing your moans. “O–oh…” 

His hands move down and grip your hips, thrusting deep, fast and hard into your tight walls. “Fuck, you feel so good, doll.” Your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer to you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits deep inside you, hitting places you’ve never reached before. “I can’t wait to pump you full of my cum, doll. Breed you.” He growls, getting lost in the feel of you. 

You moan, gripping onto your best friend, feeling him split you open, bringing you pleasure you’ve never felt before. You can’t wait until he fills you with his cum, giving you what you’ve always wanted. “Faster, Bucky, please.” You don’t know how he’s done it, but you're so close you can feel your orgasm just around the corner. 

Bucky’s hips begin to snap, slamming into you hard and fast. “Shit, doll. I’m so close.” His hand slides between your bodies, locating your clit and rubbing it. Your back arches, legs squeezing tighter around him as your juices squirt out of you, your walls pulsating around his thick cock. Bucky groans, burying his face into your neck, pounding into you before burying himself deep inside you. Thick spurts of cum shoot out of his mushroom tip as he pumps you full of his cream. “Fuck, fuck! There’s so much. It feels too good, doll!”

You sag into the couch, pulling Bucky along with you, enjoying the feeling of his softening cock inside of you. He stares at you, stroking your cheek, and you smile tiredly up at him. “Thank you, Bucky. I hope this takes, if not. We will have just to keep trying.”

Bucky smiles, “I’d be happy with that.” He leans forward and presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[monstersholygrail]

Omg FINALLY a sub yandere (I probably didn’t spell that right but I’m going to bed so I don’t care) you are genuinely my hero. Please say you’re going to give us more

I loooove sub yanderes. I’ll scream it from the dang rooftops. I just adore when they’re all pathetic and pining after you. And that sheer yearning gives them no choice but to do the most absolute vile and diabolical things known to man. They just want you so much that they’ll go to any lengths.

Then if they get caught, which is probably hard to do bc they’re so sweet, quiet, and “innocent,” they’ll just put up the whole act and be so awkward and adorable that you can’t help but just want to believe them.

So you just don’t see the hundreds of red flags they’re proudly waving around. You just think he’s goofing off and being silly. Never knowing what’s beneath his surface until it’s too late.

I definitelyyy plan to write more sub yanderes and hopefully yanderes of all kinds and personalities. I’m still getting the hang of writing them and there’s a lot to learn. Especially with trying to think of more out of the box characters. But I’ll enjoy every step along the way!

[nezuscribe]

Need your reader’s pov on how roommate!gojo is acting ‘weird’

so roommate!gojo has always been a little eccentric and fun and when he begins to brood and sulk you instantly pick up on it.

like whenever you mention the fact that you’re gonna have a date that weekend his cheeks seem to lose their pink hue, or whenever the two of you are watching edits on your phone and the guy you’re seeing texts you, you see a pout forming in his lips.

another way he’s being weird is he’s so much more touchy than usual. nothing that makes you uncomfortable, but his hand seems to find its way around your waist or shoulders a lot more. he tugs you closer by your belt loops when you steer too far when you’re at the store or he shoves your hands in his coat pockets when it’s cold outside!!

and the weirdest thing of all is he stopped bringing girls homes. you’ve begun to think he’s gone celibate. and when you ask him about it?? all he says is,

“can’t be bothered with them,” he mutters with a shrug, a teasing smile on his face that you took as him joking instead of trying to hide his true feelings, “i’d rather just be bothered by you.”

[thesvnandthemooon]

hi! i hope you have a good day :)

how do you think nat would be during the pregnancy, like protectiveness and jealousy wise?

i can totally see her being overly worried and entirely too protective, even over the most mundane things. especially later in the pregnancy when the belly grew more

hi :) hope you’re having a good day, too!

nat during your pregnancy basically equaled jealousy and protectiveness. it was ridiculous at times.

for once, you basically had a private bodyguard. whether you liked it or not, she followed you around everywhere — to classes, convenience stores, the library. she’d grab your backpack without asking (because why should the mother of her child have to carry something?) and follow you into the lecture hall like she belongs there.

the first time that happened, you stared at her. “are you kidding? this isn’t your class.”

natasha just leaned back in her seat, arms crossed behind her head. “i’m auditing.”

“you can’t just-“

“shh, i’m trying to listen.”

she did, in fact, try to listen. for a whole ten minutes. she spent the rest of the lecture distracting you.

also, she didn’t only carry backpacks for you. carrying anything seemed off limits. a grocery bag? nope. she’s got it. a purse? nuh-uh. a water bottle? not even that. usually, she’d walk around camps looking like a packhorse, whereas you had unlimited mobility; kind of embarrassing (at least until your belly had grown more, at which point you were more than happy to give her all your stuff).

jealousy was also a big thing. funny enough, you were both jealous, and pregnancy had dialed it up for you both as well.

someone else touching your belly, especially without asking you first? death sentence. immediately. no matter who did it:

a friend, running up to you in the hallway and putting both hands on your belly, being all like: “you’ve gotten so big!”? a glare and natasha physically moving you behind her.

one of her teammates, joking about how natasha “put her whole back into that one”, and finishing up with a pat for good measure? she gripped his wrist and told him to fucking ask first.

she almost got banned from a Whole Foods, too, because she threatened some random grandma who thought it’d be a good idea to touch a stranger’s baby bump.

the general rule? no touching without asking. or better yet, just no touching. just keep your hands to yourself.

it didn’t even have to be on purpose. one time, a guy bumped into you on campus, and all he said was “woah, didn’t realize you were pregnant!” = death stare. arm around your shoulders. a warning to fucking watch where he’s walking.

and god forbid someone flirts with you (yes, despite the huge belly you were carrying around, some people still had the audacity to flirt). natasha was always ready to kick some ass. and when some crusty little frat boy actually had the nerve to hit on you? even though you’re heavily pregnant, and nat was trailing behind you like an overprotective golden retriever with muscles and eyeing everyone? oh, hell no. that was bound to end badly.

first, a glare. then, her arms around your waist. a kiss on your neck, deliberately placed there.

“are you blind?”, she said, holding on tight. the look in her eyes was enough to make him back off, if only slightly. “you’re flirting with someone’s family now? do you have a death wish?”

it’s not only living beings that suffer, though. seeing how your belly had gotten bigger, she’d bought you a pregnancy pillow to sleep on. you found out that, hey, those things do work, and they’re quite comfortable — and suddenly, you spent more time cuddling that thing than natasha. when confronted about it, you brushed it off and said that “gary is just very helpful.” nat stared at you, in disbelief that you’d given the stupid thing a name. long story short, gary now sleeps on the floor.

the sleeping pillow is not the only thing she got to make life safer and more comfortable for you. she turned your bathroom into an actual elder’s paradise — she got an anti slip mat that she personally tested, she installed a grab bar (all you could do was stare at the hideous thing), she bought a shower chair because she insisted you shouldn’t have to stand that long with all the extra weight (yes, you smacked her with a pillow for that comment). the rest of your new apartment wasn’t safe, either. night light in the bedroom (so you don’t trip in the darkness when getting up to pee), a birthing ball replacing the chair at your desk (what the fuck), etc.

worst of all, though? the meal plans. the food restrictions she enforced. the “no street meat”-rule. your favorite hotdog stand? banned. pop tarts? only tolerated because you craved them and started sobbing. red40 dye? she fought hard, but you fought harder. she started cooking the most nutritious meals known to man, specifically created for you. and no, she still wasn’t a good cook, but she TRIED. healthy fats, protein, complex carbs, vitamins, etc. she prepped snack bags and meal plans, burnt four different attempts before perfecting the dish, went to that one organic supermarket and spent half a fortune on ‘the good stuff.’

natasha was also intent on protecting both your sleep and your peace. being pregnant messed with your sleep schedule, but mostly in the sense that you were either suffering from insomnia or falling asleep in the most random places. like face-down at your desk, or your body slumped over the edge of the bed. one time, you were waiting for her outside a lecture hall. you’d barely slept the night before, and when you sat down next to the vending machine, you dozed off.

she had to look twice before actually realizing that, yes, that’s her girlfriend who fell asleep on the floor. on the dirty floor, with the crumbs and dust and god knows what. but, knowing how you couldn’t fall asleep the night before, she covered you with her jacket and then sat next to you until you woke up.

speaking of sleep — one time, she called the campus security because of your dorm neighbors. no kidding. to be fair, it was 1am, and you had just fallen asleep, but the music had been quiet enough for no one else to notice. natasha was livid. she whisper-yelled into the one phone, one hand awkwardly covering your ear, and then personally looked for the culprits when security arrived. you had finally been at peace, after all. no way she’d let some stupid college kid ruin that.

she was also terrified for your safety, but she tried to keep her fears subtle (keyword: tried). still, it showed. like when you were walking down the street, and you dared to walk on the side closest to the road. a felony, at least according to natasha, so she gave you a warning look and quickly swapped with you.

sex was also a big no for that exact reason. too big was her fear of squishing the baby in your belly. depending on the position, that’d be a valid concern — but you were too horny to think straight. as soon as you’d initiated, though (and gotten her way too hard way too quick), she jumped off the bed like she’d seen a ghost.

it took you a week to convince her. she still refused to go too hard, though. (and truthfully, the way she kept asking you whether “you’re okay” and “if she’s going too hard” kind of killed the mood.)