#uncle baby billy x reader

[ghoulsbounty]

Hi hi! I hope you're doing good!!

I have a fic request for all of Walton Goggins characters you write for from your request guidelines as a mini snapshot of each of them. (Length completely up to you)

I was watching The Shield...specifically S5 E3 - Jailbait @ 38:53 👀 where Shane (Walton) is enjoying a sexy time and the way he said "I'm gonna cum" has been swimming in my mind since lmaoo.

How would each of his characters dirty talk and tell their partner they're gonna orgasm (creampie preferably) ? 🥵🥵

Thank you so much for the amazing fics. I'm so happy to read each and every word you've written 🥹

Dirty Talk Headcanon

Summary: Things they say to you when they're about to cum.

Characters: Lee Russell, Wade Felton, Baby Billy Freeman, Boyd Crowder and Cooper Howard/The Ghoul.

Warnings: smut (18+), swearing, creampie, unprotected sex, rough sex, porn without plot, dirty talk, praise kink, cum eating, oral, degradation, control, pet names, multiple orgasms, light dumbification, mirror sex, light nipple play, light sub/dom, possessiveness, cumflation, squirting, slight corruption kink, humiliation, wet & messy, fingering, one small mention of a cheek (face) slap.

Word Count: approx 1k per character

A/N: I enjoyed writing this far too much! I wrote headcanons for dirty talk as a whole (hope that's okay) including orgasms + creampie 🥵Thank you for sending my first headcanon for all the Walton characters I currently write for! I'd love to do more (hint, hint)

Lee Russell - inside or outside the bedroom, he likes to degrade and insult you. will sprinkle in the odd pet name or backhanded praise. his neediness shows when he's about to cum. his favourite thing is the taste of you both together. 

"Didn't I tell you I'd get my hands on you, one way or another?" Lee growled into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. He shoved you further into the rough brick wall of the supply closet, the cold, unforgiving surface scraping painfully against your cheek. Each thrust was forceful, driving you deeper into the corner. Your body responded involuntarily, your cunt clenching tightly around him. The wet, lewd sounds of your bodies colliding echoed through the confined space, mingling with your panting breaths and his guttural moans.

"You slut," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt as he leaned back to gaze at the intimate junction of your bodies. "You're making such a fuckin' mess on my dick. You really have no shame, huh?" His eyes darkened with lust and a twisted sense of satisfaction. Your moans filled the air as his fingers circled your stretched and filled hole, collecting the slick juices there. Without warning, he brought his glistening fingers to your lips and pushed two digits inside, swirling them around your tongue. "Taste good, baby?" he taunted, his gaze never leaving yours, revelling in your submission.

He seized your chin between his wet fingers, pinching slightly as he brought your mouth to his, tasting you deeply. His tongue explored with a hunger that made you shiver. Drawing back, he savoured your essence on his lips, groaning in satisfaction. "Fuckin' delicious, my favourite taste," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He gave your cheek a light smack, the sound sharp in the confined space, before planting both hands flat against the wall on either side of your head, caging you in. "But it'll be even better with both of us," he promised, his breath warm and heavy on your skin.

He pounded into you with relentless force, hissing into your ear as you tightened around him. "So hungry for me, aren't you?" he growled, his voice a dangerous rumble. His hips snapped with a brutal, unyielding rhythm, each thrust more powerful than the last. A whine escaped his throat when you ground back against him, matching his fast pace with your own desperate movements.

"You can act as angelic as you want out there," he continued, his tone dripping with a mix of lust and dominance, "but with me, you're just begging to be filled, aren't you?" His words sent a shiver down your spine, the truth in them igniting a fire within you. He dropped his hands from the wall and gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drove into you with unwavering intensity.

You felt yourself nearing the edge once more at his unfaltering pace. The combination of his relentless rhythm and the intoxicating dominance in his voice pushed you closer and closer to the brink. You could feel his breath hot against your ear, his teeth grazing your skin as he leaned in closer.

"Admit it," he demanded, his voice a seductive command. "Admit how much you love this, how much you need me."

When you did, he smiled smugly, his lips curling with sadistic satisfaction. One hand snaked down to your front, fingers dancing teasingly along your mound before circling your throbbing clit. You rutted against his thick digit, desperately seeking the friction. His grin widened against the skin of your shoulder, feeling your muscles quake beneath his touch.

"Let me have it," he murmured, the words sounding almost like a request but carrying the weight of direction. As you reached the peak of your climax, your body gushed around his shaft, your orgasm fierce and overwhelming. He continued to fuck you through it, his thrusts unrelenting, driving you deeper into ecstasy.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, whispering against your skin, "Always cum so hard for me, don't you? You filthy whore. Fuck, I love it." His words sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, your body responding to the combination of his rough thrusts, degrading praise and soft kisses.

Your ass clapped loudly against his thighs as he slammed your limp body back onto his cock, his grip now firm on your hip. His hips stuttered, breath catching in his throat before he thrust into you one final time. White spurts of hot cum painted your walls and spilled from you, a primal groan escaping his lips. "F-fuck, that's it, take everything I'm giving you. Look at this greedy fuckin' cunt," he cursed under his breath, mesmerized by the sight of your mixed fluids dripping down his length.

When he had emptied himself completely inside you, he dropped to his knees, spreading your cheeks apart with his fingers. He dived between your messy folds, licking and sucking at the creamy mixture. His moans vibrated against you as he cleaned you thoroughly, his tongue delving into every crevice, savouring the taste of your combined releases.

Your body trembled, the profound sensation of his mouth working you over, driving you wild. You couldn't help but grind against his face, your movements becoming more desperate as he brought you closer to another peak. His fingers dug into your skin, holding you firmly in place as he continued his relentless assault with his tongue.

The pleasure was overwhelming, building rapidly until you tipped over the edge into another intense orgasm. Your body convulsed, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as waves of ecstasy crashed through you. He didn't stop, his tongue continuing to lap at you, drawing out every last shudder and twitch of your release.

When you finally came down from the high, your body felt utterly spent and sated. He rose to his feet, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and pride as he looked down at you. "Good girl," he murmured, brushing a tender kiss against your forehead. "Now get out."

Wade Felton - more of a sweet talker than a dirty talker. gives lots of praise, and likes reassurance that he's doing things right. sounds desperate when he cums.

"You feel so good, sweetheart," Wade sighed against your neck, his breath warm and heavy as he pressed tender kisses along your skin. Each thrust was slow and deliberate, his movements drawing out every ounce of pleasure. Your thighs were hooked into the crooks of his arms, giving him leverage to push them higher, allowing him to bury his length even deeper inside you.

Your whimpers filled the room, the sound mingling with the soft slap of skin against skin. Your body trembled beneath him, responding to his careful, intoxicating rhythm. His touch was both gentle and strong, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he moved within you.

"You're taking me so well," he murmured, his voice a low, sensual growl. "Stretching so pretty on my cock. Do you feel good, baby?" His eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of lust and tenderness, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race.

Every movement was deliberate, each thrust designed to heighten your bliss and deepen the connection between you. The room was filled with the scent of your mingled arousal, the air thick with the heat of your passion. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake, his breath hot against your skin.

"Tell me how good it feels," he whispered, his voice vibrating through you. His eyes never left yours, his expression one of adoration and desire. The rhythm of his hips was steady and unyielding, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

When you told him, he smiled against you, his lips brushing your ear. "I love hearing that," he said softly, his pace quickening slightly as he felt you tighten around him. "You have no idea how much."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, amplifying the sensations you felt deep within your core. His thrusts became more insistent, each one driving deeper and harder, pushing you closer to the edge. His hands roamed your body, caressing your skin with in a blend of tenderness and desperation.

"I need you," he groaned, his hips snapping with increasing urgency. "I need you so much. You make me feel so damn good."

Your body responded to his every word and touch, your muscles clenching around him as the pressure built. His name escaped your lips in a desperate plea, your hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer.

You keen under his praise, your walls clenching in response, and his eyes brightened at the sensation of you tightening around him. "Fuck, what did I do to deserve you?" he murmured, a grin spreading across his face as he looked down at you with admiration. When you giggled, his eyes widened, and his hips stuttered as he groaned at the feel of you vibrating around him. Both the sound and feel of your laughter seemed to ignite something within him.

His hips picked up their pace, rutting into you with renewed strength. You trembled around him, your moans filling the space, each one spurring him on. Your hands grasped his forearm for purchase, feeling the strength and solidity of his muscles as he drove into you. The rhythm of his thrusts grew more fervent, each movement fuelled by a mix of passion and desire.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, his voice rough with need. The way your body responded to him, the way you took him so well, drove him wild. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same vigor as his hips moved against yours.

Your moans were muffled by the kiss, your body arching into his as he continued to thrust into you with relentless precision. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, building toward an inevitable crescendo. The connection between you was electric, each touch and sound amplifying the other's desire.

His forearm, solid and reassuring, flexed under your grasp, the muscles taut as he pressed your thigh almost flat to the mattress. His other hand gripped the headboard above you, knuckles white with the force of his hold. "You're incredible," he breathed against your lips, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "I can't get enough of you."

"Come for me, darlin'," he begged, his voice a low growl, pace becoming almost frantic. "I need to feel you."

The urgency in his tone, combined with the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, pushed you to the brink. With a final, powerful thrust, you came undone around him, your body convulsing and leaving you breathless. His eyes dropped to your hungry cunt as you creamed around him. The sight of the thick white ring of your release coating his shaft had him pulsing inside you, the visual driving him to the brink. His breath hitched, and his hips stuttered as he struggled to maintain his rhythm.

"Shit, I'm..." he groaned, his voice breaking with the effort. His thrusts became erratic, each one sending shockwaves through your body. The sensation of your walls milking him was too much, and with a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you with a force that made you cry out. "I'm cumming," he panted desperately. "I'm cumming, baby, oh fuck."

Hot spurts of thick cum filled you, his body shuddering with each release. He held you close, his forehead pressed against yours as he rode out the waves of pleasure. The passion of the moment left both of you breathless and his hands gently caressed your skin, grounding both of you as the aftershocks of your climax slowly faded away.

Baby Billy - heavily into praise and encouragement, but with a filthy mouth. the star of his own show - tell him how he makes you feel and pander to that ego. doesn't like to waste a drop.

"That's it, you ride that dick now," he said, his arms stretched along the back of the couch, eyes locked on you as you bounced above him. Your fingers dug into the shoulders of his expensive suit, desperate for purchase as your pace became increasingly sloppy. The familiar surge of heat spread through your body, signalling the approach of your climax.

Your movements became frantic, grinding down on the thick length that filled you completely. The feeling was overwhelming, and you cried out his name, your voice a sweet blend of desperation and ecstasy. As the waves of your orgasm rolled through you, you threw your head back, lost in the intensity of the moment. His hands gripped your hips, helping you ride out the last tremors of your release, his gaze filled with pride and lust as he watched you fall apart above him.

A sly grin tugged at his lips, at the feel of your cunt trying to milk him. "That's my girl," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched you soak his lap. "Baby Billy made you feel good on his ol' dick, huh? Go on, you can tell me."

You nodded, eyes glazed and mouth agape as you dropped into the crook of his shoulder. He kissed along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine as your cunt spasmed around him. "That's what I thought, always making you feel good," he murmured, his voice filled with gratification. He secured your arms around his neck, his grip on the flesh of your hips tightening. "Hold on now," he instructed, his tone low and commanding.

With a firm grip, he began to move again, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one making you gasp as he fucked up into you. You whined against him, your body trembling under his control. He lifted you off his length only to slam you back down to meet him at a relentless pace, his surprising strength and rhythm driving you wild.

Your cries grew louder when he encased one of your nipples in his mouth, his hot tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before sucking hard. The feeling was electric, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Your fingers tangled in his grey strands, pulling slightly as you sought any anchor in the storm of sensation. He didn't scold you for messing up his perfect style, too engrossed in the act of devouring you with his mouth and body.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared bliss: his low grunts, your high-pitched moans, the wet slap of your bodies coming together. Each thrust, each suck, each flick of his tongue brought you closer to the edge, your body arching and straining against him as you spiralled toward another orgasm.

His mouth left your nipple with a pop, and he drew you back to look at him with a grin. "You giving me another one? Baby Billy got you all worked up, huh?" He teased, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and desire.

His hands roamed your body, caressing and squeezing as he admired the way you trembled above him. The connection between you was electric, every touch and glance charged with passion. He resumed his deep, powerful thrusts, each one hitting just the right spot to send a thrill coursing through you.

"Making me feel good, now," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Ain't nothin' better than this right here." His words spurred you on, driving you to move faster, to ride him harder. You could feel the tension building again, a tight coil of pleasure ready to snap.

"Come on, angel, I know you've got it in you," he urged, his hands gripping your hips to help guide your movements. The combination of his thrusts and his words pushed you over the edge, and with a cry of ecstasy, you came again, your body clenching and spasming around him.

"That's it," he praised, his voice a low growl as his hips began to stutter. "Oh, here it is," he said, chest heaving as he threw his head back. "I'm cumming, angel, here I cum," he cried, his release following yours as he buried himself deep inside you. He groaned with satisfaction, the sound primal and raw, as he painted your walls with ropes of hot white cum.

The ferocity of his climax made his entire body tense, his grip on your hips tightening as he emptied himself inside you. Each pulse of his release sent shivers down his spine as he stayed buried deep within you, savouring the feeling of your bodies entwined and the warmth spreading between you.

"That's it, sweet girl," he cooed into your ear, his voice shifting from the earlier growl to a tender murmur. The contrast made your heart flutter, the softness of his tone wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You collapsed against him, your body spent and trembling, every muscle relaxed in the aftermath of your intense release.

He pushed you back gently, pulling out with a hiss. "Let Baby Billy see it now," he instructed, and you whined as your cunt gaped, clenching around nothing. His cum leaked out of you, dripping down your thigh and making a mess of his dick. He watched intently, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

Taking two fingers, he ran them up your thigh, collecting the dripping cum before stuffing them back into your cunt to the hilt. "There you go, angel," he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he watched your body react to his touch. His fingers moved inside you with a practiced rhythm, ensuring none of his cum was wasted. "Don't waste a precious drop."

Your body trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers filling you again. The rawness of his actions left you breathless. He looked up at you, his grin wide. "That's my good girl," he praised, his other hand caressing your thigh. "You take it all so well."

Boyd Crowder - praise, praise, praise! worships the ground you walk on. possessive (will take out the entirety of harlan county for you.) likes to watch you both together.

"Open your eyes," Boyd whispered, his breath hot on your ear. "I want you to see yourself. Just about the best damn thing I ever laid my eyes on," he cooed, his fingers gripping your thighs harder to urge you. When your eyes fluttered open, your breath caught in your throat.

You saw yourself, spread open and exposed on his lap, your back pressed against his chest as his hands held you open and his cock stuffed you full. The chair he sat on creaked under your combined weight as he adjusted himself, slipping further into you until his balls were pressed snugly against your ass. The sight was intoxicating, your bodies joined so intimately, every inch of him buried inside you.

Your gaze caught his over your shoulder in the rustic, floor-length mirror, and he gave a wicked grin. The reflection showed everything—the way his strong, tattooed arms enveloped you, the way your bodies moved together. His eyes were dark with desire, and the possessive gleam in them made your pulse quicken.

"Look how perfect you are," he murmured, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through to your core. His hands shifted, one moving to play with your clit while the other kept a firm hold on your thigh, keeping you spread open. The combination of his touch and the sight of your intertwined bodies in the mirror sent waves of desire crashing over you.

"Feel that?" he asked, his tone both teasing and reverent as he pressed deeper, eliciting a moan from you. "That's all me, filling you up, making you mine." His hips began to move again, the rhythm slow and deliberate, each thrust designed to draw out your pleasure and make you feel every inch of him.

The sounds of your shared delight, the creaking of the chair, and the wet, rhythmic slaps of your bodies echoed in the room, creating a symphony of passion. As your eyes met his in the mirror once more, you saw the reflection of two people completely lost in each other, bound by the rawness of the moment.

You placed one hand over his, guiding his movements on your clit, while the other snaked around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. He groaned, turning his head to press a hot kiss just below your ear. "Do you like seeing us, baby? Watching yourself come undone on my cock?" He whispered, his voice deep and husky. "Fuck, I love it," he groaned, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips.

The sensation of his fingers on your clit, combined with the sight of your bodies in the mirror, sent heat burning through you. Your grip tightened in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips trailed along your neck. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin, each thrust driving you both closer to the edge.

"You look so perfect like this," he murmured against your skin, his voice laced with both admiration and need. "Damn, I love being inside of you." His hips moved with a deliberate rhythm, each thrust deep and powerful, making you feel every inch of him. The chair creaked beneath you, adding to the symphony of sounds that filled the room.

Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, your bliss heightened by the mirror's reflection. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you deepening with every shared glance and touch. "I want you to remember this," he said, his voice a mix of command and desire. "Remember how good we are together. Don't you forget it."

As your climax approached, the pressure of his fingers on your clit and the relentless thrusts of his hips became almost too much to bear. Your breath hitched, your body trembling with the anticipation of release. "Cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice a growl in your ear. "Watch yourself cum all over me." With a final, powerful thrust, he sent you spiralling over the edge. Your body convulsed in his arms, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as watched yourself fall apart around him.

The feel of you clenching down on him had Boyd panting, and seconds later he was whimpering against your neck. "Damn, I'm close," he said, his voice breaking with desperation as he rutted up into you. The raw need in his voice made your heart race. "You make me feel so good, baby," he continued, his words a mix of admiration and urgency.

Eyes still fixed on the mirror, your head fell back against his shoulder, your body going limp as you surrendered completely to him. Both his hands now gripped your thighs with bruising ferocity, holding you in place as he drove into you with a relentless rhythm. Each thrust was accompanied by the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet, lewd noises filling the room and burning your cheeks.

"Fuck," he groaned, the word drawn out and guttural. His breath was hot against your ear, his chest heaving with effort. "Damn, baby," he cried, his voice strained and desperate. The feel of his cock swelling inside you, the frantic pace of his hips, and the way his entire body seemed to shudder with impending release all combined to push you further into bliss.

He buried himself deep inside you with a final, powerful thrust, his body convulsing as he came. "Fuck, I'm cumming," he cried out, his voice breaking. You felt the hot spurts of his release filling you, mixing with your own arousal.

As he rode out his orgasm, his hands moved to caress your body, fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin. He held you close, his forehead resting against the side of your head, both of you trembling from the intensity of the experience. Your eyes met in the mirror, both of you sharing a satisfied smile as he remained buried inside your swollen cunt, keeping his seed there.

The connection between you was palpable, a silent understanding passing between you as you basked in the afterglow. The mirror reflected your entwined bodies, the evidence of your shared passion glistening on your skin. He nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses there, his breath warm and comforting.

"Look at us," he murmured, his voice soft and full of wonder. "So perfect together." His fingers continued to trace lazy patterns along your hips and thighs, each touch grounding you further in the moment.

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul - very possessive. teasing/light degradation. praises you for a job well done. his clothes stay on. loves to fill you until he's spilling out.

"You want another one?" he laughed teasingly, looking down at your fucked-out eyes as you trembled beneath him. "I don't think you have it in you, but you're so desperate," he taunted, his own eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and raw desire.

Cooper's gaze trailed to your cunt where he continued to fuck his load into you, white cum drooling from you as he filled you again and again. The sight of his cum spilling out and mixing with your own juices only seemed to spur him on. He revelled in the intense pleasure of filling you to the brim, knowing that he was overwhelming your senses, his cock and his load too much for you to contain. His thrusts remained deep and relentless, each one pushing more of his seed inside you.

"You’re so greedy for it, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Taking everything I give you." His words shot through to your core, your body trembling and on the edge once more despite your exhaustion. His hands gripped your hips painfully, holding you in place as he drove into you with unwavering ferocity.

His teasing laughter filled the shelter. "Look at you," he said, awe and possession in his voice. "You're a mess. You should be ashamed, letting a man like me do this to you." As he continued to move inside you, the heat built again, your body responding eagerly to his every touch and thrust, ready to give him yet another orgasm.

The lewd sounds of your sloppy pussy echoed through the room as he pounded into you, his grunts and moans joining in as you contracted around him. His hand reached down to your clit, pressing a gloved finger hard against the swollen bud. The rough texture sent shockwaves of ecstasy through you.

Your eyes widened, hips rutting against his own in desperate response. The harsh fabric of his clothed body rubbed against your naked skin, the friction intensifying the heat between you. The sensation was a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, pushing you over the edge as your orgasm tore through you.

Your body convulsed, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as ecstasy overtook you. The spasms of your cunt squeezing around his dick made him groan loudly, his thrusts becoming even more erratic as he chased his own release. He didn't let up on your clit, the relentless pressure driving you wild.

"Atta girl," he cooed, his voice a gravelly whisper. "Let it all out." Your cries filled the air, your body arching against him as waves of satisfaction crashed over you and he watched as your pussy gaped and gushed around him once more. A primal look flickered in his eyes, and a crooked smile spread across his handsome face as he buried himself deeper inside you. "Gonna keep you full," he promised, his voice a low, possessive growl.

Cooper's thrusts became slow and deliberate, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body. His hand pressed against your lower abdomen, feeling the slight bulge where he was buried deep inside you. "You take me so well," he murmured, pride and desire burning in his eyes. "A real vision," he sighed, pushing further into you.

He wanted to leave no doubt that you belonged to him, that he could push you to the brink and bring you back again and again. The feeling of being so completely filled, so utterly claimed, sent waves of ecstasy through you.

"Doing good, sweetheart," he said, his voice softening slightly as he leaned in to kiss you. The contrast between his tender words and his rough actions made the moment even more intoxicating. "Gonna keep you full and satisfied," he whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours as he worked himself towards his release.

His hand tightened on your hips, ensuring you took every inch of him as he continued to thrust with unrelenting fervour. Your tits bounced with each movement, your mouth hanging open in sheer ecstasy. The sight of your body responding to him, of your cunt clenching and dripping around his dick, drove him to push harder, deeper.

"You gonna take it?" he panted, his thrusts becoming desperate. You nodded, whimpering as you bit down on your lip. "Fuck, take it. Take my cum," he moaned, his voice thick with lust.

His cock pulsed inside you, releasing hot spurts against your walls. The sensation was staggering, the warmth spreading through you as it overflowed, mixing with his previous load and your juices. You felt overstimulated and full, and you watched Cooper as he gazed at the slight bloat of your stomach, his eyes filled with primal satisfaction at the sight of you so thoroughly filled with his cock and seed.

His hand moved to rest on your belly, gently pressing down as if to emphasize the fullness. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice a heady blend of awe and possessiveness. "So full of me."

The combined fluids soaked both of you as they trickled out, creating a slick, messy connection between you. His hands caressed your hips, fingers trailing along your skin, smearing the wetness as he admired the aftermath of you together.

He steadied himself above you, his breaths ragged and uneven. The heat of his body pressed against yours, a thin layer of sweat glistening over your skin. His eyes remained locked on yours, filled with pride.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softening as he leaned down to kiss you gently. "Completely mine." His hands roamed your body, soothing and comforting as you both came down from the high. 

[megangovier]

Weekend Fun

Pairing: dbf! Baby Billy x fem! reader

gif by @waltonghoulgins

Summary: You're upstairs in your room minding your own business, reading a book and listening to spicy audios through your headphones. Family and friends are outside, having a nice time eating BBQ and telling stories. Baby Billy walks into your room unnoticed and stops in his tracks to take a look at what you're doing on the bed.

Warning: 18 + only || Heavy Smut || F! masturbation || Daddy! kink || Age Gap (23,40s) || grinding || mdni

As a child you were never into socializing or mixing with others, you loved your own company. It made sense spending time with yourself; you did have friends at one point, but they left you to find someone who was social and loved going out. It gave you more time to read your books that you've been neglecting, your parents and their friends were worried about your lack of social life but thought you'd grow out of it as you got older, but you never did. Being with books made you feel at peace, there's different stories of how the start begins and how it ends. Like a holiday in your head, some ends in tragedy but some ended in happiness.

It's early August, the skies bright with sunshine and clouds gliding over the blue landscape. It's the weekend once again and your family has invited friends and other family members to a nice BBQ in the spacious garden. Your introverted ass headed back upstairs and closed the door behind you ignoring your name being called out by your dad. You did feel guilty not being as social as your other family members, but you couldn't help who you are, either accept you how you're or they could be shown the door. It's always the memo you went by.

Looking through your bedroom window, seeing people walk around chatting to others with drinks in their hands having a good time, a book in your hand and headphones in your ears you were having the best time possible in your own space. Your dad's best friend will be showing up around half an hour, he was the kindest yet funniest person you've ever met. Every time you saw him face and neck would heat up. His accent was attractive and charming to you, made you smile at times when hearing it. His eyes were the reason why you had a crush, he had the prettiest ones.

Lying down on your bed, phone in hand and book above your head a smile slipped onto your face. Face red and body heating up you decided to have a little weekend fun yourself, as you slid your hand down your trousers a whimper left your lips. Your clit was rather sensitive kind of happens when you make up depraved scenarios of your dad's best friend. As you were off to dream land a car pulls up on the drive and engine cuts.

Baby Billy walks out the car and locks up, heading to the back garden smoking his cigarette, drink in other hand he starts to chat with his friend of 20 years. After a few minutes of socializing and catching up with everyone, he heads upstairs to find his favourite girl he's known for years. As he quietly heads towards your room stopping in his tracks, he hears noises coming from your room, tiptoeing towards your door he slowly opens it. Eyes wide and mouth agape he stares hard at you, smirk growing on his face. Something else was growing to make his pants uncomfortable, slipping his hand down to rub it away he looked back at you to find you staring at him, eyes wide and red faced.

"What the fuck? haven't you heard of knocking?" you said with annoyance in your voice. Sitting up back against the headboard looking at him "sorry I didn't mean to say that Billy, I just didn't expect people to just walk in without knocking". Tension in the air has changed its thick and full of desire. Sitting on the corner of your bed, you crawled to where he sat and laid your head on his lap "so babygirl, how's things with you" you've always loved pet names especially from him. Face turning red and body heating up again, hated how he made you feel your body always betrayed you around him. "I'm good thank you, catching up on books and introverting" a laugh leaves Billy's mouth " found a boyfriend yet?" I bet he's so lucky to have you" looking away to the wall " I don't have one, Um. I'm more into older guys" looking at him and away to the wall again.

"I didn't have you down for someone who liked older guys, thought more like guys your own age" a shy smile slipped onto your face, looking at his beautiful eyes "My parents thought so too" Moving on to his lap, lips crashing against his, eyes wide pushing you away "I can't do this, you're my best friend's daughter, who I knew since you were little" Eyes rolling, hands on hips "I'm 23 now, grown and can make up my own mind not like your my daddy" A smirk falls onto your blushed face and a growl left his lips.

"Fuck it, c'mere love" sitting back down on the corner of the bed. Sitting back in his lap, your arms around his neck. Slowly grinding in his lap, feeling something hard grow in his pants, a moan left his lips "fuck baby, you're so cute when you're a whiny mess"

@sexy-monster-fucker @ghoulsbounty @ghoulphile @walkthelineforme @its-in-the-woods @toxicanonymity @clogginbloggingoggin 💗 @danveration

[coopswhxre]

Word's Mean Nothin'

Boyd Crowder x (Fem)Reader

Word Count: 3,224

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

Synopsis: Boyd confesses his feelings for you and things get a little heated.

This is my first time writing anything for tumblr, so please be nice XD

It had been three weeks since your sister Ava allowed Boyd Crowder to stay in the attic of the home you both shared. He had kept to himself, spending his days reading the Bible and listening to the radio. Frankly, you preferred it that way; seeing his smug face was the last thing you wanted after all the trouble he'd brought upon Ava.

On a quiet Sunday afternoon, you decided to enjoy your coffee on the porch, relishing the crisp air, only to be startled by Boyd sitting on the bench by the door, his expression one of deep thought.

With a sigh, you considered him for a moment before turning to go back inside.

"Y/N," his voice was low as he called out your name, his gaze fixed on the woods beyond your property. "Would you sit with me?"

You paused, your foot hovering over the threshold. "Why should I?"

"Please…" His eyes met yours—wide, hazel, and piercing. To your surprise, they seemed to shimmer with what looked like genuine remorse.

"You've got two minutes, Crowder," you conceded, walking over to take the rocking chair opposite him.

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossed defensively as you leaned back. "Well, I ain't got all night, Boyd."

"I've been thinkin' 'bout these past few weeks, what my daddy did to your sister… to you." He gestured towards your shoulder, where a bullet from his father, Bo, had grazed you, sending a chill of remembered pain through you. "I know I can't undo what happened or clear away the bad blood between us, but I need you to know, I'm sorry."

Your gaze hardened, not quite ready to accept his apology, yet you couldn't help but notice the earnestness in his tone—something you hadn't expected from Boyd Crowder. The silence lingered for a moment, punctuated only by the distant calls of evening birds and the soft creak of the rocking chair beneath you.

"Why now, Boyd?" you finally asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "What's changed?"

Boyd sighed, looking down at his hands before meeting your eyes again. "I've had a lot of time to think, up there in that attic. 'Bout my life, the choices I've made, the folks I've hurt." He paused, his voice faltering slightly. "I've realized if I keep goin' down this path, I'll end up all alone. I don't want that. Not anymore."

You watched him, trying to decipher if this was another one of his manipulations. Boyd was known for his silver tongue, and trust was not something easily given, especially to a man like him. Yet, there was something different this time, a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

"And what 'bout Ava?" you pressed, the concern for your sister surfacing. "What assurances do I have that you won’t put her—or me—in danger again?"

Boyd nodded, understanding the weight of your question. "I can't give you guarantees, Y/N. All I can offer is my word to do better. I wanna protect Ava, not cause her more pain. I hope, in time, you'll see that."

You remained silent, mulling over his words. The evening chill began to seep through your clothes, reminding you of the fading light.

"Time'll tell, Boyd," you finally said, standing up from the rocking chair. "Words mean nothin' without action. You better prove yourself, or you're out."

As you lay in bed that night, the conversation with Boyd replayed endlessly in your mind. His voice, earnest and somber, seemed genuinely filled with regret—a side of him you hadn't seen before. But deep down, you suspected Ava was his true motivation. Boyd had always harbored a soft spot for her, even during her marriage to his brother.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the radio playing upstairs, its volume carrying through the quiet house. With a muttered curse, you threw off the covers and made your way to the attic to tell Boyd to turn it down.

Reaching the attic door, you knocked sharply before entering. The sight that greeted you made you gasp—Boyd, just out of the shower, clad only in a towel around his waist, his skin damp and his hair slicked back. For a moment, you faltered, taken aback by the stark contrast between his usual rugged demeanor and the vulnerability he now displayed.

"Boyd, the music—it’s too loud," you said, striving to keep your voice steady despite the distraction.

"Oh, sorry bout that," Boyd replied, his tone apologetic as he reached for the radio, turning it down immediately. "Didn’t realize it was carrying through the house."

You nodded, your eyes inadvertently scanning the sparse, dimly lit attic. It was clear he lived simply here, with just a few personal items. The vulnerability of his living situation, combined with the unexpected intimacy of the moment, softened your stance just slightly.

"Thanks," you added, pausing at the doorway. "And Boyd—about earlier… I’m thinking about what you said."

Boyd’s eyes met yours, hopeful yet cautious. "I appreciate that, Y/N. Really, I do."

You were already halfway out the door when Boyd's voice halted your steps. "Wait, Y/N," he called, his tone hesitant yet earnest. You paused, your hand on the door frame, and turned back to face him.

"I just… If you've got a minute, I'd like to say a bit more," he said, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance. The soft light from the single bulb overhead cast shadows that played across his features.

You sighed, your initial irritation fading into a cautious curiosity. "Alright, Boyd. What is it?" you asked, leaning against the door frame.

He took a deep breath, searching for his words - eyes searching the dimly lit attic before settling back on you. The air was thick with tension, his usual confident demeanor replaced by something more tentative. "I know this ain't the time or place, and maybe it's not my place to say, but…" His voice trailed off as he took a cautious step closer, his expression earnest.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms defensively. "Boyd, if you've got something to say, just say it."

He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on you. "It's just… these past weeks, being here, seeing how you handle everything… it’s made me realize a lot more than just my mistakes." He paused, swallowing hard. "I’ve come to… care for you, Y/N. More than I should, given everything."

The confession hung between you, startling in its sincerity. Boyd looked vulnerable, almost afraid of how you might respond. "I know I don't deserve a chance, not with my history… but if you'd ever think it possible—"

"Boyd, I—" You started, your mind racing with conflicting emotions.

He stepped forward, closing the gap slightly, his presence overwhelming. "I know it's a lot to ask. I don't even know what I’m asking for. Just… don’t shut me out. Please."

The intensity in his eyes, the raw honesty in his voice, it broke through your defenses in a way you hadn't anticipated. You were about to speak, to chastise him or perhaps to dismiss his words, when impulsively, Boyd leaned in, his hesitation melting away in the moment.

His lips met yours, and for a brief second, the world seemed to stop. The kiss was tentative at first, questioning, as if he was still seeking permission. But as you stood frozen, surprised by your own stillness, something shifted. Maybe it was the isolation of the attic, the soft hum of the now-quiet radio, or the genuine remorse he had shown earlier; whatever it was, you found yourself not pulling away.

The kiss deepened slightly, Boyd's lips firm yet cautious. His hand, tentative at first, found its way to the small of your back, pulling you slightly closer. The warmth of his body contrasted sharply with the cool air of the attic, and you could feel the dampness of his hair, the remnants of his shower, as his fingers gently brushed against your cheek.

The softness of the moment, the gentle pressure of his lips against yours, was disarming. It wasn't rushed or fraught with the intensity of passion often depicted in stories; rather, it was a slow burn, a flicker of something new.

As Boyd finally pulled away, the slight catch in his breath was audible in the quiet of the attic. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of regret or rejection. What he found instead was confusion.

Boyd's gaze was unwavering, his brow furrowed slightly as if he was trying to read your thoughts.

"I… I'm sorry if that was too much," he whispered. "I just needed you to know, to really know, how I feel."

The weight of his confession, the unexpected intimacy of the kiss, left you silent for a moment. You were still processing, still trying to align this new Boyd with the one you had known, always calculating, always a step ahead.

His eyes held yours, searching for a sign of how you might react next. The tension was palpable, a mix of anticipation and fear. You took a moment, your own confusion swirling with the unexpected emotions stirred by the kiss.

After what felt like an eternity, you made your decision. Stepping forward, closing the gap Boyd had just created, you reached up to touch his face gently, the touch sent a shiver down your spine. Boyd looked at you, his eyes wide.

Without saying a word, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his again. This time, there was a certainty in your movement, a decision made. Boyd responded almost immediately, his hands moving to your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, and you invited him further, parting your lips.

Boyd's response was immediate and intense. His tongue met yours, exploring softly, cautiously at first, then with growing confidence as you responded in kind. His fingers pressed into your waist, pulling you flush against his warm chest. The heat from his body enveloped you.

The world outside seemed to fade away as the kiss grew more passionate. You could feel Boyd's heart racing just as fast as yours, his breath mingling with yours, creating a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. The soft hum of the radio now seemed like a distant memory, replaced by the sound of your joint breathing and the occasional creak of the attic floor beneath you.

As the kiss finally broke, you both stood there, forehead against forehead, trying to catch your breath. Boyd's hands remained on your waist, not willing to let go just yet, and you made no move to step back.

Boyd finally spoke, his voice husky and low. "Y/N, I—"

"Shh," you whispered, placing a finger on his lips. "Don't. We don’t need words right now."

As the tension in the room shifted from apprehensive to charged, you took Boyd's hand. The air in the attic felt thick, almost tangible with the turn of emotions. Leading him to his bed, you were acutely aware of every sound—the slight creak of the floorboards, the distant call of the night, and the rustle of the towel as it shifted against Boyd's form.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. The soft light from the single bulb cast shadows that danced on the walls, adding to the intimacy of the moment. You could see the outline of Boyd's form under the towel, the tension in his body, and the undeniable evidence of his desire.

Boyd stood before you, his breathing deep and uneven.

You reached up, your fingers gently touching the edge of the towel at his waist. Your eyes met, and there was a silent question in yours, a pause as you gave him a moment to decide.

Boyd's hand covered yours, his grip firm yet gentle. He nodded slightly, a wordless agreement, a surrender to the moment and to whatever it might bring. You pulled gently, and the towel fell away, leaving Boyd exposed.

You let out a soft gasp, your eyes widening in both surprise and desire as you took in the sight of him. His swollen tip, coated in glistening precum, called out to you and you couldn't resist. Your mouth watered with anticipation as you enveloped his length with your lips, savoring the velvety texture against your tongue. He groaned and grasped tightly onto your hair as he pushed himself deeper into your mouth, never taking his piercing gaze off of yours.

You moaned as his hand guided your movements, taking him in deeper and savoring the feeling of being completely filled by him. The sound of your moans vibrating around him was like a symphony to his ears until he suddenly let go, creating a soft popping noise as your lips released his member.

"Damn, Y/N," he gasped. "If you keep that up, I won't be able to return the favor." He laughed hoarsely, that toothy grin of his shining in the dim light before his expression turned dark. "Lie back, baby." The intense heat between your legs threatened to consume you at his words, and you couldn't help but melt at the way the word ‘baby’ rolled off his tongue.

You followed his instructions, shifting towards the head of the bed and easing yourself onto the soft pillows. He moved over you, taking in the sight of your body spread out beneath him, his arousal pressing against your thigh through the thin fabric of your pajama shorts.

His lips trailed down your neck, his warm breath sending shivers across your skin as he pressed himself against your thigh. You let out a gasp as he tugged at the neckline of your singlet, exposing one of your erect nipples. His tongue darted out to flick at the sensitive peak before taking it into his mouth, gently sucking and nibbling.

"Boyd…" you moaned, overwhelmed. "please, more."

Sitting up on his knees between your open legs, Boyd’s fingers gripped the waistline of your shorts, slowly pulling them down. Your heart raced as you felt the cool air against your bare skin. He tossed you shorts aside, eyes filled with desire, as he took in the sight of your glistening cunt.

You clenched your hands in the sheets, your breath hitched as you eagerly awaited his next move. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Boyd leaned in closer, his face just above your quivering core. You felt his breath against your most sensitive spot, making you squirm. His finger traced your outer lips, teasing the entrance of your heat.

And then, finally, he slipped a finger inside, pushing gently against your tight walls. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through your entire body that left you gasping for breath.

"Fuck, Y/N," His voice a mix of lust and awe. "You're so tight."

His fingers delved deeper into your core, twisting and curling to ignite a firestorm of sensations that sent shockwaves through your entire body. Your hips eagerly moved in rhythm with his movements, yearning for the release that felt so tantalizingly close.

As he worked his fingers, his lips met yours in a fiery kiss. His tongue matched the rhythm of his skilled digits inside of you.

Just when you thought you couldn't handle any more pleasure, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you longing for more.

He spat into his hand and slicked it over his pulsing member, preparing himself for you.

Your heart raced as he slowly positioned himself at your entrance, pausing to meet your eyes.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your body begging for the connection that was moments away. And then, with a single, powerful thrust, he entered you, filling you completely.

A gasp escaped your lips, and a wave of pleasure washed over you as you held onto him tightly. Your inner muscles contracted around his length, drawing him in deeper.

Boyd let out a loud grunt, his teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut as he adjusted to the tightness of your walls. His hands fisted the sheet on either side of your head as he paused for a moment, collecting himself.

Slowly, he began to move, setting a rhythm that sent jolts of pleasure coursing through both of you. You met his thrusts eagerly, your hips moving in tandem with his.

Your breaths became heavier, your bodies glistening with perspiration as the room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and the occasional curse from Boyd.

Your hands gripped his back, nails digging deeply into his skin as you pulled him closer. The friction was exquisite, and you could feel the aching need building within you.

Boyd's eyes were locked onto yours, his face a mask of raw emotion. He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a fervent kiss as he thrust deeper. You moaned into his mouth, your body responding to his every move.

Your climax was building, the pressure growing with each thrust. You could feel it, the tightening coil of pleasure, threatening to unravel. You dug your nails into his back, arching your hips to meet his. The sensation was too much, and you cried out as you peaked, your orgasm washing over you in waves.

Boyd watched you in awe as he continued to thrust into you. The sight of you in the throes of orgasm was more than he could take, and he quickly joined you, his body shuddering as he released deep within you, ropes of hot cum painting your walls white.

Your legs shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm as you melted into the bed. Boyd's weight rested on top of you, his face buried in your neck as he caught his breath.

You ran your hands through his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. "That was…" you began, the words barely escaping your lips.

“Somethin’.” Boyd finished your sentence, his words muffled against your skin when a knock at the door made you both jump.

Boyd quickly rolled off you, grabbing the towel from the floor and wrapping it around his waist. You straightened yourself on the bed, pulling the sheets around you, heart still pounding.

Dear god, you'd forgotten all about your sister downstairs!

Boyd cracked open the door just enough to peek through, and Ava's voice floated in, laced with a hint of amusement. "Y'all planning on making that racket all night? Some of us have a busy day tomorrow," she teased, her tone light but carrying a knowing edge.

A sheepish grin spread across Boyd’s features. "Sorry, Ava," he called back through the slightly ajar door, his voice a mix of embarrassment and mirth. "We'll keep it down."

"Better," Ava replied, her voice now softened with laughter. "Just remember, thin walls in this old house."

[expirednukacola]

Going for that “70s American Dream” aesthetic for my account

If ANY of you need help on your accounts, DM me! I’ll be happy to help you find your own aesthetic!

—————————————————————————————

Also! I need all of you to know this,

I know a majority of you are itching for an update on Orange Colored Sky and I want you to get what you want but it has been so hard to find inspiration — I already know what to write and I have everything planned out but somehow, it’s an absolute shitshow to write.

I’ve also been going through a rough patch in my life and I’ve been super busy trying to figure out what I’m going to do this summer — either I get a summer job that is DEFINITELY going to take up my free time or I just lay around the house, bored and lazy. Just know that I love all 125 of you and our sweet slim jim (Cooper Howard) is going to make a comeback someday.

Also also! If you have any other Walton Goggins characters that you want me to write about, please tell me which one in the comments! Just know I am NOT writing for S1 Boyd Crowder (The N@zi) — That bitch can suck my fuckin dick for all I care.

Your quantamaniac, Ms. Evangeline ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི!

[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.

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[fandomnerd9602]

Little Doe Eyed Baby

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

The labor was long and hard for your deer-human hybrid mate. She was sweaty and clammy by the end of the labor but yet she never looked more beautiful.

You acted as her lumbar support for the entire duration. Your doe appreciated the gentle words you whispered in her ear. The way you held her hand.

Natasha, your best friend and wolf hybrid was more than happy to be the midwife. She provided additional encouragement and love during the process.

As for the twins, Billy and Tommy, well their uncle was happy to take them out on the town for the day. It kept them occupied and filled their little heads with ideas of what they could buy for their parents.

Pietro took them to a little store. Billy and Tommy locked eyes of a simple plushie. Their mom was still a huge fan of plushies and at the moment they saw it, the boys knew it was perfect for their baby sister.

“Billy! We gotta get that for momma!” Tommy practically screamed in excitement.

“That would be awesome! We gotta buy it!” Little Billy responded.

The boys reached into their pockets and could only pull out a handful of quarters. Pietro was more than happy to cover the balance.

Meanwhile in the delivery room, Wanda continued through the pain, gently pushing as her baby slowly made its way from the womb into life itself. How desperately she wanted just to hold her baby in her arms. And yet at the same time, the doe could also feel her old fears arising within her. Her mind began flashing back. Back to before she met you. Back to when Billy and Tommy were in the exact same place that their sister now resides.

Wanda was back in that cold, unforgiving prison cell, with only the weakest of lights shining in. She held back the tears as she caressed her pregnant belly, trying not to disturb her captors.

“My detkas” she whispered thru her tears, “we won’t be here forever.” She wanted so desperately to believe those words.

“we shall have a real home someday. I-I won’t let anything happen to you”

Wanda’s mind came back to the present. She had a home now. With you. With Natasha. With her brother. With her boys.

“It’s okay, baby” you reassured her, “just a couple more pushes.”

Wanda found a new energy within herself. A drive for her family. A drive to hold her baby each and every day. She began pushing.

“Almost there,” you held her hand tight. “one more push!”

Wanda strained and then she came into the world.

There she was. Covered in a mix of blood and embryonic fluid but she was beautiful. Your little doe human hybrid baby.

“My detka” Wanda cried as she held her newborn to her chest. The baby cried and cried. No antlers yet but you could tell your daughter had a doe tail. And it was the cutest tail you had ever seen

“Baby she’s beautiful!” You cried as you held your mate.

Natasha walked up to her best friend, her wolf tail gently wagging, “she’s beautiful, Wanda. What’s her name?”

You and Wanda share a gentle smile. The name was a natural. It was one of the first things the two of you had decided on when you found out it was going to be a girl.

“There was no other, more perfect name,” Wanda giggles, “Natalie”

Natasha’s tail wagged faster as tears began forming in her eyes, “y-you named her after me?”

“You’re my best friend, Nat” Wanda smiles at the wolf hybrid. The two were bonded like sisters, it was only fitting.

And then two doctors came in. Instantly Wanda tried her best to cover her baby.

“I’m sorry we need to clean your baby up,” one of the doctors apologized profusely. Wanda began shaking her head, she didn’t want to risk losing her baby.

Natasha put a reassuring hand on your doe’s shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on little Natalie.”

Wanda relaxed and let the doctor take away your daughter. Natasha was quick to follow them out.

Your mate rested comfortably in your arms, taking in your essence, taking a few deep breaths, and from once all seemed right in the world. 

“We have our baby” Wanda says, her energy all spent in the moment.

Natasha walked back into the room a few moments later, your daughter resting comfortably in her arms.

“Little doe wants her momma and daddy” Natasha giggles as she sets the newborn back in your mate’s arms.

“My little podarok” Wanda whispers as she kisses her baby’s head. She gently whispers the same animal call she used to whisper to her twins. A way for Natalie to always recognize her.

A second or so later, the peaceful room was interrupted as Billy, Tommy and Pietro ran in. “She’s here!!” Tommy exclaimed as he and Billy ran up to the bedside of their mother.

“Shh” you gently chided the boys. “Her hearing is very sensitive right now”

The twins couldn’t help but marvel at their baby sister. Pietro came up with a plushie in hand and a smile on his face.

“She’s cute, definitely from your side of family (Y/N)” he let out a little chuckle.

Pietro set down the stuffed deer that the boys picked out, “little one needs her first plushie. I cleaned it and made sure it was disinfected.”

Natasha wraps an arm around Pietro. The boys nuzzle their momma and you wrap a protective arm around your hybrid family.

Even Wanda had no way of knowing what the future would bring. But you knew that your whole world was in that one room, your one perfect world.

Your loving wife, your two amazing boys, and her: that cute little doe-eyed baby.

The End

Tags: @ma1egamer @jacenradio7 @julieromanoff @tokufighter @iamnicodemus @family-house-of-m @lifespectator @holiday-house-of-m @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @aloneodi

[scarlethexelove]

Not Supposed To Happen

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2322

Warnings: A bit angsty, Fluff, Angry Wanda, Wanda blinded by anger, It all works out, Pregnancy, Really nothing much.

Pt 1, Pt 2

A/n: Ok so this is part 3 of Love Story and I actually split it into 2 parts so there will be a 4th to round it out. Wanda gets a little anxious and upset at reader. Also I know medically it's so wrong but we just going to blame it on the magic. That works right just blame it all on the magic. This is kind of shitty but whatever.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

The backyard of your house is filled with all your friends and family as you celebrate the twin’s 5th birthday. You can’t believe how big they have gotten. Everyday you look at Az and see a mini version of your wife running around. You watch as Peter is being chased by the twins in the yard. All the giggling and laughing coming from them. MJ is sitting in a chair in the shade as her hand sits on her pregnant belly. Steve, Thor, and Tony are all arguing over who is the best at grilling. Sam and Bucky are standing around drinking beer giving each other lovey dovey eyes.

You chuckle to yourself looking at them. You always thought that it would be Steve and Bucky who would end up together but when Steve got with Sharon you were happy for him nonetheless. Then it was Sam and Bucky pining over each other. Your eyes drift over to see Sharon with Pepper and Aunt May. You watched as Peggy (Steve and Sharon’s daughter) and Morgan joined in on chasing Peter around. You laughed as he got taken down when the two older girls joined in.

Carol, Valkyrie, Nat, and Maria all drinking and enjoying themselves. Nat had a strong arm wrapped around Maria while Valkyrie had one around Carol. You were happy to see everyone happy with someone. Even Bruce had a girlfriend but neither of them could make it to the party. You then felt arms wrap around your waist and an even bigger smile stretching across your face. 

“How’s your leg today baby?” You were leaning on your cane that you have to use some days. After the accident it became clear that your leg would never be the same. Some days when it was hard to move and painful. There was severe nerve damage to your leg but you're happy to be alive and have your family with you. “It’s ok, not much pain, just some stiffness.” Wanda takes her left arm from your waist and snakes it down to your thigh and starts to massage your muscle. A small moan escaping your lips without you even noticing but Wanda does when you feel her smirking against the back of your neck.

“Will you two get a room?” Carol calls from the other side of the yard. Valkyrie slapping Carol against the head. “Kids, there are kids running around.” Carol tries to defend herself. “Sorry, not sorry.” Valkyrie chuckles holding her wife. You chuckle at their display. “It’s just about my leg so no room is needed.” You yell back.

“Do you ever regret it?” Wanda asks softly. “Regret what?” You question what she is asking “Having to retire from SHIELD?” A smile spreads across your face. “Never, I have you and our two beautiful babies. And besides Tony has me helping him when he can’t get through a firewall.” You turn around in her grasp to see her giving you loving eyes. “I love you so much Y/n.” Wanda smiles at you which you return. “I love you more.” You gently kiss your wife. 

“Mommy!”  You hear your daughter yelling for you. You turn back around to see Peter holding Az up high as she wiggles in his grasp. “Peter, I swear to god if you drop my daughter. Wanda won’t be the one you have to run from.” Peter gently sets her down. Az and Billy comes bounding over to you and your wife. You pick up Az in your arms and Wanda picks up Billy. “Uncle Peter said we are going to have a little cousin to play with soon.” Billy said happily as Wanda placed a kiss on his head. “Yeah, you are.” You reply looking between your wife and twins.

“Mommy, Mama, when can we have a younger brother or sister?” Az questions the both of you. You both look at each other with wide eyes. Neither of you had, had the conversation about other kids since you almost died twice around when the twins were born. “Well sweetheart your mommy and I will have to see about that one. We love both of you very much.” Billy folded his arms over his chest pouting a bit at your wife’s words. “I want a baby brother so I’m not the only boy. You asked what we want for our birthday. We want a baby brother or sister.” You're taken aback by what Billy just said but you can’t help but think of how great it would be to have another mini-me of Wanda running around. Billy looked like a spinning image of you when you were a kid. You pulled Wanda in close to you as you both held onto the twins.

“Foods ready!” Tony yells from the grill as the twins struggle to get out of both of your arms. You both set them down as they run towards the food. You hug onto Wanda and whisper in her ear. “I think maybe we should think about having another. I love seeing your mini-me running around all the time. Though it’s your turn this time.” Wanda chuckles as she kisses your cheek. “Well of course it is.”

Both of you know that it would have to be her no matter what. After giving birth to the twins, you were told your chance of having another baby was one in a million chance. The damage done was severe. Both of you smile, looking at everyone enjoying themselves as the party continues.

It’s been 8 months since the party. Wanda is out grocery shopping while the twins are at school. You on the other hand have your face in the toilet bowl throwing up. You were so out of it you never even heard the front door open or the footsteps coming to your bathroom. You hadn’t even heard your name being called out. “Y/n?” Nat’s head peaked into the bathroom as you looked up at your best friend.

“Natty? What are you doing here?” Nat comes over and crouches down next to you. Moving your hair out of the way and rubbing up and down your back. “Are you ok?” She asks with concern written all over her face. “I’m fine. Just been feeling sick the last few mornings is all.” Nat’s eyebrows furrow at your words. “Y/n could you be pregnant?” Nat joked at you. “Not really helping here.” You mumble. “Y/n/n is it only in the morning or other times of the day?” Her face is sympathetic. “Just in the morning. Why do you ask?” You lean your head against the toilet bowl. “Y/n when was your last period?”

You open your mouth to answer but quickly close it when you think back and realize how late you are. “It’s not possible.” You scramble away from the toilet as you run into your room and open the top drawer of your dresser. Nat is close behind you. “Ok gross didn’t need to see your sex drawer.” Nat grimaces. “Haha, not funny Nat.” You look through the draw and find the two vials. One completely full and the other mostly gone. When you flipped over and read the label.  

“Well shit.” You breathe out the realization hits you. “What is it?” Nat asks you. “Wanda used the wrong one.” You turn to face her. “What?” You held up the two vials for Nat to see. One saying that it was fake and the other was the magical sperm for Wanda. “Oh.” Was all Nat could say when she realized what you meant.

You pull out your phone and nervously dial your wife. Hoping that she doesn’t think the worst before you can explain. “Hi baby, do you need something from the store?” Wanda’s voice comes over the phone. “Baby I need you to listen to me before you react ok.” Your voice is laced with anxiety. “Okay.” Wanda says hesitantly. “I need you to grab some pregnancy tests.”

“What they fuck do you mean pregnancy test?” Wanda’s voice is laced with venom. “Baby you said you would listen.” Wanda let out an angry huff. “I’m listening.” You could tell she was gritting her teeth. “You used the wrong one.” You try to explain. “I used the wrong one, right.” Wanda sounded angry, like she didn’t believe you. But before you could answer back you felt another wave of nausea hit you. You threw the phone at Nat as you ran into the bathroom. “Y/n Y/m/n Maximoff, I swear to god you better not – “ Nat cuts Wanda off on the phone. “Y/n would never. Now you need to calm down before you come back here but seriously bring some pregnancy test and maybe some Gatorade.” Nat quickly hangs up the phone as she rushes to your side.

Wanda leaves her cart in the middle of an aisle before running and grabbing some pregnancy test, some Gatorade and a pack of Oreos. She doesn’t want to be mad at you, but her thoughts are racing, not really listening to anything after you said pregnancy test. She checks out the few items before quickly driving home. Once she has gotten home, she rushes upstairs to find you and Nat in the bathroom.

Nat quickly stands placing a hand on Wanda’s shoulder seeing her fuming with rage. You look up with a weak smile, but it drops when you see your wife’s face. Nat grabs the bag and places it next to you as she pushes the angry Sokovian out of the bathroom. “Wanda, you need to calm down.” Nat’s voice raising. “I can’t believe it.” Wanda said her voice was laced with anger. Nat doesn’t want this to escalate; she pulls Wanda towards the dresser, opening the drawer and seeing the two vials you had shown her. She hands them to Wanda. “This is not her fault. If it is anyone's, it is yours.” Nat defended you knowing that you would never betray your wife in that way. Not with the things you have been through and what you two have been through together.

Wanda grips the vials in her hands and looks down at them. She looks at the almost empty one and reads the label. As she does, you're getting up from the toilet and standing in the doorway of your bathroom to your bedroom. “It was that night we got drunk.” Wanda looked up at you. You had a small smile on your face. You push off the doorframe and walk towards Wanda. “You wanted to have a little more fun than just drinking since Nat so kindly took the twins that night. You know how much I love it when you use the fake stuff and decide that night was a great night to use it.” You explained. “And I grabbed the wrong one.” Wanda said lowly looking down at the ground.

You were now in front of Wanda. You placed a finger under her chin and made her look you in the eye.“It was supposed to be your turn this time.” You chuckled. “But how. The doctor said it would almost be impossible.” Wanda’s eyes meeting yours. “Key work almost.” Nat added. Both of you shot her a look before she put her hands up in defense. “I guess you're just that good.” You place your forehead against hers as you look into her eyes. 

Wanda smiles softly at you. “So, are we taking those tests or what?” She says as she pulls you back towards the bathroom. You see the bag on the floor and notice the Oreos sticking out. “Aww you remembered.” You can’t help the growing smile. “How could I? You almost killed Tony and Nat for eating the last of your Oreos when you were pregnant with the twins.” She chuckles. “To be fair you don’t mess with a pregnant woman.” You smirk. “I still have the scar from where you stabbed me with the fork.” Nat adds at the end. “I told you not to eat my Oreos.” You give her a quick quip. “And I learned an important lesson.” Nat raises an eyebrow. “Good now move out so I can pee on some sticks.” You pushed Wanda and Nat out of the bathroom.

A few minutes pass as you wait for the test results to be shown on the different pregnancy test that you took. The buzzer on your phone goes off when the results should be back. “I can’t look.” You bury your face into the crock of Wanda’s neck. She wraps her arms around you as one hand rubs up and down your back. “Everything is going to be ok detka.”

Wanda motioned for Nat to look at them as she held onto you. She moves over picking up the first test. The corners of her mouth twitching up into a smile. She looks at the next one as the smile spreads across her face. Wanda watches as Nat’s smile grows. “Well, it looks like you’re going to have to deal with another Maximoff running around soon.” Nat said excited for you two. You pull away from Wanda and grab the test out of Nat’s hand seeing a plus on the test.

“We’re having another baby?” You look at Wanda who just shakes her head yes. “Good thing two cause this little one is going to have a best friend.” Your face covered contorts with confusion. “What?” You turn around to face Nat. “Well, the reason I had come over here was to tell the both of you that Maria is pregnant. I wanted to tell you two first, but this makes it all the much better. Our kids can grow up being best friends.” You can’t help it when you burst into tears hearing those words. Both women wrapping you in a hug as your happy tears soak into Nat’s shirt.

[kisses4tom]

Sooo, since we got Uncle Billy do we now get GirlDad!Tom ?? I’ve looked high and low for a Tom X Reader family story😂😭 your writing is amazing <3

ᡣ𐭩 DADDY TOM

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YAYY FINALLY SOMEONE REQUESTED THIS!! 😭 I've been dying to write something like this since I have already made an uncle tommy hc! and thank you so much ml 💕

I think we can ALL collectively agree that Tom would be the BEST girl dad, right? 🌚 so the baby will be a little girl!

also I'm gonna make this a teen pregnancy (18), so from the very start up til now!

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when he finds out he would probably freeze for a moment before finally reacting (gotta soak it in yk)

he would be happy but shocked and confused at the same time

scared not to be present enough because of tour and the band

he would always kiss and touch your stomach

he'd cry when hearing the baby's heartbeat to the doctor 🥹🫶🏻

"I want the baby to be healthy, but if I had to guess I think it's a boy" (he 100% wants a girl)

idk I feel like he would call the baby "kleine Prinzessin" (little princess) or "kleiner Soldat" (little soldier) !!

when you go into labor he tries to keep his cool but deep down he's in full panic mode

the first time he met/held her it was like love at first sight for him even if he didn't quite know how to act since he never really had any past experiences with babies

he's very careful and gentle with her

always holding her

he would attack her with tickles to hear her little laugh

kiss attacks also

playing with her all the time

he wouldn't essentially spoil her (that's uncle Billy's job 😉) but he definitely gets her most things because he can't say no to that little face!

likes holding and showing her around: "look who's that in the mirror? it's you!"

definitely hiding her from the media

yet he LOVES talking about her in interviews!

though very very VERY rarely he would bring her out on stage and hold her like mf simba when she was about 1/2

his heart is always full whenever she's around

he would kneel down to talk to her‼️😩

always pushing her stroller or carrying her on his shoulders

don't ask me why but he'd get into play fights with her at the dinner table 😭 (especially when she's still learning to talk so she's speaking gibberish 😭)

he loves to take her baths and put fun toys in the tub

finds her extremely adorable in everything she wears

he'd give her his yellow dog plushie‼️😭 currently sobbing

I feel like he would try his best to let the baby's first word be "papa" 😭

when she's older he would start being more himself (so talk about things freely and make dirty jokes all the time)

he's not a regular dad, he's a cool dad! 😏 (please get the reference 😭)

he'd give her the talk 🫢🐝

he would pick her up in weird ways and make her laugh (like upside down etc lmfao 💀)

would let her do his hair but not his make-up

like I said in my uncle Tommy hc, i feel like he would love to play with the toy kitchen for some reason idk 💀

he's the overprotective girl dad FOR SURE (AND ITS THE HOTTEST AND CUTEST THING IN THE WHOLE UNIVERSE)

he'd go down the slide with her 😭

at lunch/dinner he would always sit next to her

looooves when she's at their concerts and would ask Bill to dedicate her a song (especially her favorite)

he'd definitely write her a song too

he would make her try to eat a lemon 😭🍋

it's important to him that she has a good bond with her uncle Bill and the boys too! (uncle Georg and uncle Gustav 🥹)

"Y/n she looks more like me than you, gotta be honest"

he would give her what he didn't have growing up (if you read Bill's book, like I have, you'll know)

he wouldn't let anybody hurt or say anything wrong about her

hype man fr

high-key a very chill and permissive dad

he would make sure she knows her worth and to always be herself, without listening to what others say

always saying that she's the better copy of him

since he had her young, people (maybe even teachers at parent teacher conferences) mistake him for her brother and it's needless to say that he's very flattered while his daughter is just like 😐

they have a great bond

LITTLE FUN FACT‼️ Tom said in his podcast that if he ever has a daughter then his dream is to name her Nala like in the lion king movie 🤭😭 crying rivers rn part 2

your daughter tags along on tours, especially because it's very important for Tom and she loves it (idk if I already said this but oh well lmfaoo)

I have a feeling almost all her friends have a crush on Tom (i know i would 😋)

Tom is such a basic dad istg, he does bbq every sunday

if y'all ever become parents a second time then he would definitely have a happier reaction than the first one, yet he would be scared to take care of two little creatures~

his fans always ask about her during meet and greets and give her little presents, which he appreciates a lot

your daughter is pretty much popular in the entire fanbase you guys have and is considered a "lucky charm" from the band

Tom would give her the longest and most comforting hugs known to mankind

he'd make her a memory book with Bill 😭

and he'd give her some old goodies of his!

like some of his old clothes, hats, glasses etc..

overall he's the best dad and UGHHFHSJENF I cry just thinking about him not having any biological children :(

i hope you enjoyed this !! 💕 (also i apologize for any spelling mistakes but your girl over here is too lazy to re-read 🤪 love y'aaaallll)

[the-kr8tor]

Ok I loveee dad hobie, and hear me out. Since the twins admire hobie so much. I want to request hobie finding the twins wearing his clothes after a long day of crime fighting

Thank You!!!

Yayy billie and mona request!! Thank you muah 😘❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Dad! Hobie, Mom! Reader, Billie and Ramona AU, Twin AU, CW food mentions, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie comes home to the most adorable sight. Billie cuddles close to you on the couch, her chubby cheek squished atop your chest, nose scrunched up that's oh so similar to the face you make when you're annoyed. Your arms are around both girls, the light from the telly lighting up his girls' faces. Ramona has her thumb in her mouth, baby teeth peeking out, eyes wide at the screen playing what he presumes as cartoons based on the sounds. But what melts the fatigue off his bones is what his girls are wearing.

Billie wears her dad's black and red jumper, the sleeves are too long for her, adding to the cuteness of it all. The shaggy jumper is so big on her that it looks like a dress, a very Hobie-like dress, a dress that he remembers you getting him for his birthday.

His heart melts further when he flicks his eyes over to his other girl, Mona is wearing Hobie's old band shirt. It's a regular black shirt with the fading print that looks well worn by both you and him. The sleeves are too long on Mona's, making it look like a long sleeved dress on her toddler body. It's the same shirt that he and Ned spent all night designing and silk printing for everyone in the band, and that includes you, his number one fan.

You who's currently wearing his checkered pajamas, you wear it well. Eyes roaming to your top, he recognizes it as his old favourite. He guesses his little family misses him a lot by how you also wear one of his jumpers. With Hobie just staring at it brings him nostalgia, back when you and him were still pining for each other, back when all the tentative touches were full of hidden affection. Back when he thought the scene in front of him is just a dream that his lovesick mind concocted.

The room smells like buttered popcorn, the evidence of it is left on the coffee table. The girls' sippy cups lay next to it half empty, your own mug still steaming, letting out puffs of chocolate scented air. He guesses you forgot to drink your drink again, too occupied with Billie and Mona's needs.

Before he could cross the space to get to where his girls are huddled together on the settee, you call his name softly, equally tired eyes staring at him with deep rooted fondness that has his knees weak and palms sweaty. Hobie feels like he's back in time, where he's the one wearing the loose jumper you're currently wearing.

“Hi, handsome.” Your soft smile brings him back to the present. His girls perk up, finally noticing their dad standing like a stick figure next to the window. Eyes roaming his form, you check for injuries. You can finally breathe when you spot none. “Come join us—?”

“Daddy!” The twins scream excitedly at the same time. They both wiggle out of your hold, tiny feet running across to embrace his legs. One leg each per girl.

“How was the music?” Mona asks in her three year old vocabulary. The girls still haven't realized that their father is Spider-Man, it's not their fault when you and Hobie omitted to tell them until they can understand it. “Fun?”

“Uncle Neddy?” Billie tugs Hobie's vest, big brown eyes staring with anticipation.

“Uncle Ned went home already, bub, sorry.” He uses both hands to pat each girl on their heads.

Billie frowns slightly, but her mood is quickly changed when Hobie reaches for his girls to lift them up in his arms. You worry that he's too tired to carry them but his grin says otherwise.

“And the music was nice, mon mon.” He noses Mona's forget gently, she giggles in his arms, tiny hands curling around his hair.

“That's good, daddy.” She says while fighting a yawn.

“Did you all miss me that much, huh? Wearing my entire wardrobe to bed?” Hobie addresses you who's standing a few feet away from him with a smile and arms crossed over your chest to prevent yourself from adding your weight in the little cuddle pile. “What are you doin' so far from us, lovie? Come here,” you shake your head jokingly. “Don't make me come over there.”

“Or what?” You playfully rile him up.

“I can't say it, I have little ears with me.” Hobie winks and you guffaw, the sound rising above the beeps of the telly.

“Fine.” You surrender, arms already raised to embrace your family.

The twins giggle as you squeeze the three of them. You feel their tiny hands grasping your (Hobie's) jumper. Head placed on the crook of His neck, you place a sly peck on his skin that has him almost dropping his babies.

“Careful with that, it's like live ammunition to me y’know.” Chuckling, he leans further in your touch. “Why are you all wearing my clothes anyway?”

“We missed you.” You lean a bit to look at Hobie's face. His eyebrow is raised, eyes telling you— ‘really?’ “Fine, I forgot to do laundry.”

“Thank you for your honesty.” He kisses your forehead with a wet smack and you laugh. “You look mighty fit by the way.”

“Just say I make your clothes look better on me.”

“Anything looks better when you have b—”

“Do not!” You poke his side, earning a loud laugh from him. You can practically feel the fatigue lifting off of him, so you cuddle closer, the girls copy you, their faces smooshed in between you and their dad.

[e-dubbc11]

I was wondering…in the Sweetest Pain Series, around what age does Dylan go from sweet mama loving baby, to the cool guy he is currently?

Hello my darling friend! Thank you for sending in this ask ♥️ I hope you like what I’ve done here and I know this technically wasn’t a part of my follower celebration but I think I’ll put in in the masterlist for it when I create one. So thank you for sending in this ask for our favorite family ♥️

He’s Not So Little Anymore

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Billy Russo x F! Reader with their son Dylan

Warnings: I think a couple of swear words, the rest is pure fluffy bunnies and unicorns, a few tears, feelings of your babies growing up

Word Count: 1.8K-ish

Summary: Reader is feeling a little sad that her son is too old to hang out with his mom. Billy comforts her.

A/N: Thank you again for sending this in, I know how much you like this series and this family and to everyone else who enjoys this series, thank you all for reading! And I’ll leave the rest of the series linked HERE

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕💕

Acceptance is a difficult emotion to navigate.

Knowing Dylan wouldn’t be little forever, you tried to convince yourself that you still had some time left for cozy snuggles, for him asking you to watch a movie with him, secretly observe him play with his dinosaur toys, or to hear him call you “mommy.” But the truth was he had outgrown all of those things and you were having a hard time accepting that.

Dylan was your second baby but he wasn’t a baby anymore. He went from playing with toy cars to racing go-karts with his friends. His once round chubby little face had started to thin out, he started styling his wild dark brown hair before school every day and suddenly he didn’t trust you to pick out his clothes anymore. Dylan had asked for you or Billy to take him shopping for school clothes because he had his own taste now, he knew what he liked and didn’t like, and he wanted to be the one to pick out his own clothes.

You were still getting used to your daughter, Anna Raven, growing up also. She was 14 now and her own little person with her own ideas, likes and dislikes. She was on her way to becoming a young adult even though it killed you to watch her grow up when it seemed like it was just yesterday she was getting her first pair of toddler Converse sneakers and saying her first words.

But Dylan was your precious baby boy, your little man, and, like Anna, he was growing up before your eyes. He was 10 years old, into playing video games, taking guitar lessons, and really enjoyed hearing about all the pranks his father and Uncle Frank pulled on each other while they were in the Marines. He was always just in complete awe of his dad serving his country being a marine.

While Dylan was at his guitar lesson, Billy came home a little early and found you in the living room.

“What are ya doin’, sweet girl?” Asked Billy, as he walked toward the couch where you were seated.

With a slight hitch in your voice, you replied, “Looking at Dylan’s baby pictures.”

Billy sat down next to you, looked down at the open pages, and you watched as his lips curled into a slight smile.

He pointed to one at the top of the page. Dylan was sitting in his high chair with cake and frosting smeared across his face. His fingers spread far apart on his chubby little hands to help him grab as much cake as possible to shovel into his mouth and his cheeks were so full of cake, he looked like a squirrel storing acorns for winter.

“His first birthday. He destroyed that cake, remember?” Said Billy, with a slight chuckle.

You laughed a little too as you swiped a tear away from your cheek.

“The T-Rex didn’t see that coming, did he.” You said with a warm smile.

Billy could hear the hitch in your voice like you were fighting back tears and you really were, they burned the back of your eyes as you tried to keep yourself from weeping. He knew you were barely holding yourself together when he drew you in close, your ear flush against his chest, and you could hear the gentle rhythm of his heart.

“It’s ok, baby. You can cry if you need to.” Said Billy, kissing the top of your head.

Your gentle sob broke through, “He’s not a baby anymore, Billy! Sometimes I…I miss when they were little, that’s all. Anna’s a teenager, she’s starting to do more things with her friends and is very involved in school. And Dylan, he used to be my little buddy, we used to do a lot of things together and now he’s taking guitar lessons, actually combing his hair and flashing girls that perfect Russo smile of yours.” You said with dryness in your throat.

Billy softly pressed his lips to your forehead, you could feel a wide smile stretch across his face, and a slight chuckle escaped the side of his mouth. Like a cat, you buried your face into his green Henley as his long arms squeezed you tightly.

Your voice was somewhat muffled as you said, “You’re laughing at me, Billy.”

“Only a little.” He replied. “But that’s what they’re supposed to do, sweet girl. We prep them for the real world, teach them not to be assholes, guide them in the right direction and off they go. They still need us, baby, but I know what you mean…sometimes I miss when they were little too.”

You remembered how nervous Billy was when he found out he was going to be a father, he never had one so he was scared he wouldn’t be a good one. He watched Frank with his kids and he loved being an uncle to Lisa and Junior but knowing he was going to have a child of his own, Billy was scared he wouldn’t be good at it.

He surprised himself at how he took to it so naturally when Little Raven was born. The first time he held her, fed her, changed her…and although it was still difficult, it was easier than he thought it would be and by the time Dylan came around, Billy was a professional.

He really was a great dad.

Both Anna and Dylan were always very relaxed when Billy held them with the exception of the time period where Dylan always wanted mommy, not daddy. They rarely cried or struggled and instead, just melted into his arms like you did when he held you in an embrace.

You remembered telling him then, “They trust you, baby. You make them feel safe and protected, just like you do for me.”

Inhaling the scent of green soap from his shirt, you replied, “Not fair baby, you’re using my words against me.”

“Well my wife IS a lot smarter than I am. She knows what she’s talking about.” Said Billy.

When you raised your chin up to meet his gaze, Billy was fondly looking down at you with his endless brown eyes and the loving smile that he’s given you thousands of times. He inched his face closer to you and softly pressed his lips to yours, they tasted like peppermint and his hand cupped your cheek.

After setting the photo album down next to you on the couch, you crawled into his lap, brushed the bristles of his beard with your thumbs, and deepened the kiss as a low growl escaped his lips.

Billy’s hands traveled to your ass which took you by surprise and you let out a yelp.

“Ya know, beautiful, Anna is just upstairs and Dylan should be home any minute from his lesson. You keep kissing me like that, it’s gonna lead to somethin’ the kids shouldn’t see.” He said with a smile in between kisses.

With a slight pout and a quick bat of your eyelashes, you said, “Okaaaaaay, will you play with me later?”

Outside, a car door slammed shut and then you heard a key in the lock.

“Just try and stop me, sweet girl.” Said Billy, as he kissed the tip of your nose.

The front door closed and Dylan walked into the living room carrying his guitar case.

“Hey Mom, hey Dad.” Dylan said. “Whaaaaat were you guys doin’?” He asked with narrowed eyes.

“Lookin’ at your baby pictures! You wanna see?” You asked excitedly.

“Maybe later, I gotta go practice. Oh, when Ms. Mullaney dropped me off she was talkin’ about this old movie she likes that she thinks I’d like called Aliens. You know it, right Mom? You know every movie on earth!” He said.

“Excuse me? Old movie?!!” You said with an elevated voice.

Billy jumped in.

“Uh, baby he’s not wrong, it is an old movie.” He said.

Deflated, you replied, “Yeah, you’re right it is old…I just didn’t wanna say it out loud because that means I’m old.”

Billy and Dylan started to laugh, both of them exuding that perfect smile that you loved so much. Your not-so-little boy was an exact copy of his father from his wild dark brown hair, intense brown eyes, and, of course, the million dollar smile.

Billy said, “And just because it’s old, doesn’t make it any less awesome…just like your mother. I’m kidding! I’m kidding, baby!”

He started to laugh as a long drawn out gasp escaped your lips.

“Billy Russo! How dare you!” You said as you tried to keep a straight face but ended up laughing too.

“Dad did say you were awesome too, Mom.” Said Dylan with a reassuring smile. “So, will you watch it with me later, Mom? Please?”

The tears stung the back of your eyes. Trying your best to not let them fall, you replied, “Of course I will, buddy.”

With an excited smile, he replied, “Cool! Well, I’m gonna go practice for a little while. Be ready to watch when I’m done, ok?”

“I will be ready!” You said enthusiastically as you watched him walk up the stairs to his room.

As soon as his door closed, your tears fell but Billy was right there to catch them before they streaked down your cheeks and placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

“See sweet girl, he’s getting older but Dylan still wants to hang out with his mom.” He said with a wink. “I love you.”

You replied, “I love you too, handsome. Ooh! We get to play our favorite game! Ok, 20 bucks says he’s gonna start his practice session with Come as You Are – Nirvana. What’s your guess?”

Billy pondered for a minute and scratched at his beard with his long fingers before he said, “Smoke on the Water – Deep Purple.”

The two of you shook hands and waited patiently for Dylan to fire up his guitar. It was so quiet in the living room, you could hear a pin drop before the familiar riff of Come as You Are traveled from Dylan’s room down to the living room where you were.

Pumping both fists in the air, an excited smile stretched across your lips as you let out a taunting laugh.

“HA!! Pay up, baby!” You said.

“SHIT!” Exclaimed Billy as he pulled a twenty out of his pocket and aggressively slapped it into your hand. He hated to lose at anything. “Are you cheating? I’ve lost like four in a row now!”

“I don’t think I like your tone, lieutenant and I resent your insinuation that I would use our child to cheat.” You said with a narrowed expression and a sly grin.

“Alright, can we call a truce?” Billy said with his hands up.

You snaked and clasped your hands around his neck before inching yourself closer to him. Your lips ghosted over his before you said, “I’ll give you a truce, if you kiss me like you mean it, Mr. Russo.”

Billy touched the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth before purring in your ear, “Yes, ma’am.”

Both of your children were growing up, exploring, and doing their own things but you and Billy will always have the wonderful memories of creating and enjoying your beautiful little family.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @fakehappy27 @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @fictional-hooman @nutmeg17 @k-marzolf @vaguekayla @rosaleenablack @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @aoi-targaryen @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @rachlovesactors @qu1etwolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso @colereads

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[lizstory]

Betrayal

Ethan Landry x fem reader (Stu Machers niece)

warnings- Scream 6 Spoilers! death

summary- Ethan wasn't the person you thought he was. He was your boyfriend, the loving, sweet, awkward boy you met when you came to New York, but that wasn't the case. He was someone else, something else.

wordcount- 1,400

A/n- I want to write more Ethan stories. some preghostface and some during ghostface killing. I also will be wrtiting more marvel characters so if you have any request please leave some!

To keep the last name Macher was a mistake. You had never thought about it before till this very moment. Standing before Quinn and Ethan, or so you thought, who Ethan was. He was your loving boyfriend there for you when people approached you asking if your uncle was still alive and if you would turn out just like he did. Stu Macher had died way before you were born, so you never got to meet him, but you did take an interest in learning about him. He was family, after all, despite being a serial killer. THE serial killer that partly inspired the rest of the Ghostface killers. 

"Maybe my mother was right," You sighed, closing your laptop. 

Ethan rubbed his hand up and down your back, soothing your pain. He knew about your past no matter how fast you tried to escape it. You trusted him. He placed a soft kiss on your temple. "Don't be too hard on yourself, baby." 

You rubbed your face. All you wanted to know was why your uncle did it all. He and Billy Loomis created a world where everyone had to double-take over their shoulder to ensure no one was following them. Was he indeed just a psychotic like your mother described? She always hated when you took an interest in what happened all those years ago, saying that becoming a killer runs in the family. 

"He was just a sick fuck. Doing all of this just for fun" Your heart ached, he was a killer, but he was your uncle. You created a version of him in your mind, where he was alive and well. He was the fun uncle that took you to eat a shit ton of junk food and always got you in and out of trouble. 

Ethan pulled you closer by his side, your head leaning on his shoulder. "You aren't like him, love." 

"Y/n right now is not the time to zone out!" Sam yelled

Quinn burst laughing, and the knife pointed at you. "And the funny part is that you believed Ethan got with you because he loved you." 

You stared at him. This whole time your eyes were glued onto him. He didn't smile when his gaze met yours. You had no idea what to feel at the moment. You were mad that he did this but wanted to burst into tears because, finally, someone knew the true you and loved you. 

"His favorite was Stu Macher, so you don't even know how excited he was to find out that the girl that was crushing on him was actually related to The Stu Macher" Quinn was satisfied with the fear in your eyes. She needed everyone in that room to feel the pain she was feeling. "He was so fascinated to hear about your family's details. You took him in and trusted him with everything." 

Your eyes prickled with water. They found their way back to Ethan. "Fuck you" 

"You all deserve this. You killed our fucking brother!" Quinn screamed 

Realization hit everyone. This wasn't the family that they pretended to be. This was a grieving family, and if they were after Tara and Sam, their brother's death had to do with what happened to them in Woodsboro. 

"Your Richie's family," Tara whispered. 

Sam stared at Bailey. His eyes filled with anger. His son was killed, and he was standing before his murder. "He was so pathetic," Sam whispered, gun pointing at her head. "He made his girlfriend do all the killing, then cried like a baby when I slit his throat," she spat with venom.

Bailey was inches from pulling the trigger, but Sam jabbed the knife in his hip. Quinn ran to help her dad. You tackled her to the ground before she could reach your friend. You pulled the knife out of your back pocket—the knife your uncle used to kill all his victims. Quinn's knife fell out of her grip when you tackled her.

"My mother always said it was in my blood to become a killer," You whispered. The knife was high up in the air and came crashing down to the middle of her chest. Before it made contact, arms were wrapped around your waist and pulled you up, then backward. 

"Y/n!" Tara yelled

You wanted to reach out to her hand and have her come and help you, but she would already be occupied. "Tara, watch out!" You screamed before being pulled behind a curtain. 

Ethan let go of his grip. You quickly turned around, and the restraint on the knife's handle only tightened, finally being face-to-face and alone with Ethan. He didn't run to attack. He didn't even take a stand to protect any vulnerable areas. You were relieved he wasn't attacking. You had no idea if you could even go through with hurting him. He was sick and used you to learn about his favorite fucking killer, but he was still the loving boyfriend you had all those moments with. 

"You have to understand why we are doing this" His voice was shaky. 

"I don't" You wanted to yell at him but also wanted nothing more than to run into his arms, bury your face into his chest, and wake up from this nightmare. "My brother is gone because Richie was so involved in scary movies, but you don't see me becoming a killer." 

Ethan stayed silent. He wasn't the only one grieving the loss of an older brother. He never understood why you didn't get revenge, why you didn't crave the feeling of the blood being splattered all over you as your victim screamed for help, but they'd be too late. 

You drop your knife on the ground as your tears fall down your face. "I trusted you." 

Ethan stepped closer, but you only moved back. He stayed still, knowing he couldn't hold you anymore. "What I felt was real." 

"Fuck you, Ethan" Your voice couldn't even be at its average volume no matter how hard you tried. "I believed you loved me. That performance deserved a fucking Oscar" You wiped the tears that screamed down your face. It felt wrong to wipe them away. Ethan always did it for you. 

"Baby, I did love you. I loved you so much" He stepped closer again, and you didn't step away this time. It looked like your body was fighting itself from going to him. He walked in front of you, his figure hovering over you. He placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look up. "I still love you. You can walk away, and nothing will happen to you. We can live the life we were building together"

It sounded nice, but it could never happen. Ethan and his family hurt too many of your friends. He made a wound that could never be recovered. You placed a hand on his jaw, pulling his face in closer. He stared at your lips. Was this you accepting his offer? You closed the gap. His hand snaked to your waist while your hand was placed onto his shoulder, stabilizing your balance. The kiss was deep, salvia connecting your mouths in the moments you pulled away. 

"I'll love you forever." 

That was the last thing Ethan heard. The next moment, him falling to his knees. He looked up, tears streaming down your face and a knife in your hand. When had you grabbed your knife off the floor? He looked down and saw his hip was impaled. You fell to your knees, holding his weight in your arms. He didn't try to attack you too. He could never hurt you like that. You were too pretty to be harmed. He just sat there, finding comfort in his last moments being in your arms, the arms of the one person he loved. Your heart was pure, and he would forever hate himself for tainting it with this situation. 

He strained a smile, your sobs hurt him, but he liked to think about what kind of life he would've had with you if none of this had ever happened. If Ghostface wasn't real and his family wasn't influenced by it. Would he still have met you? He would have. Quinn was wrong. He wasn't with you just because you were Stu Macher's niece. He was with you because you were you. 

You placed his body on the ground. His breathing was gone, and his heart stopped. He was gone, and the blood was on your hands now. You wanted to stay there. Crying into your dead boyfriend's chest, praying that he would magically come back and tell you this was just a joke. At least then, he would hug you and tell you everything was ok. You forced yourself away from his body. He wasn't the only killer, and your two friends were still left alone with them. 

[ghoulsbounty]

Can I request baby billy maybe reader Is a Virgin and he has plenty of skills he will help teach his innocent girl ?

Hidden Sins

Uncle Baby Billy Freeman x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, loss of virginity, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, corruption kink, slight cum play, innocent reader, takes place in a church (it used to be a sears, okay), description of a religious service, talk of religious beliefs/upbringing, manipulation, possessiveness, idolisation.

Word Count: 7.3K

A/N: I joined these two requests, I hope that's okay! I love writing for Baby Billy, he just oozes charm but has that slight edge of manipulation 🥵 Thank you for the kind words on A Fall From Grace, anon! I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

As the doors of the newest Gemstone Prayer Centre opened on Sunday morning, the congregation trickled in. There was a gentle murmur of voices as families, couples, and individuals made their way to their seats. The set lights created colourful patterns on the floor as they streamed through imitation stained-glass windows, giving a warm and inviting glow to the sanctuary, which was a recently renovated Sears in Locust Grove’s Eastland mall.

There was a comforting rhythm to the rituals performed as people settled into their seats. Some bowed their heads in silent prayer, while others leafed through their hymnals or exchanged hushed conversations with their neighbours. Children, dressed in their Sunday outfits, fidgeted beside their parents, their impatience to be let free into the mall barely contained. The musicians, positioned near the front, tuned their instruments and chatted quietly among themselves, their voices blending in harmonious laughter.

The keyboardist played a soft prelude, the gentle notes filling the space and creating an atmosphere of reverence and anticipation. Conversations gradually quieted as the music swelled, drawing the congregation’s attention towards the front of the church. The choir stood, their faces reflecting a mixture of concentration and serene joy as they prepared to lead the opening number, a soulful blend of rock and country.

At the pulpit, Baby Billy Freeman took his place, his persona commanding yet approachable. He adjusted the microphone, his warm hazel eyes scanning the room, acknowledging familiar faces with a nod and a smile. As the last notes of the prelude faded, a hush fell over the sanctuary. He cleared his throat, his melodic voice resonating with warmth and authority as he welcomed everyone to the service, setting the tone for the morning’s worship.

“Good morning, brothers and sisters,” he began, rich and melodious, filling the space with ease. “It is a blessing to see so many familiar faces, and I extend a heartfelt welcome to those who are visiting us for the first time. We gather here today, not just as individuals, but as a community of faith, bound by the love and grace of our Lord.”

Calls of “Amen” rang out through the room as he stepped away from the pulpit, moving to the front of the stage with a graceful confidence that commanded attention. He began weaving a story, his voice rising and falling with the rhythm of his words. You found yourself entranced, unable to take your eyes off his tall, lean frame. He oozed magnetic charm, from the way he adjusted the cufflinks on his impeccably tailored suit to the slick, groomed hair that crowned his head. This was a pastor who clearly appreciated the finer things in life, and it showed in every deliberate movement he made.

His story unfolded with the elegance of a master storyteller, each word chosen with care, each pause perfectly timed to draw the crowd deeper into his narrative. The light caught the fabric of his suit just right, highlighting its quality and fit, and you couldn’t help but admire the attention to detail in his appearance. It was evident that Baby Billy Freeman understood the power of presentation, using it to enhance the impact of his message, much like the Gemstone family did.

As he spoke, his eyes scanned the crowd, ensuring each person experienced a sense of direct connection as he addressed them. His hands moved gracefully, emphasizing points with a natural ease that came from years of practice and a deep understanding of his craft. The way he stood, the way he gestured, even the way he smiled—all of it contributed to the aura of a man who was not only confident in his message but also in his place at the front of the room.

When his eyes settled on you, it appeared time itself slowed. His gaze lingered, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he took you in, assessing you with a knowing look. The intensity of his eyes sent a jolt through you, igniting a heat that rocketed to your cheeks under his watchful scrutiny. Your fingers moved subconsciously to smooth the pleats of your dress over your lap, a nervous attempt to steady yourself against the flurry of emotions his intense stare provoked.

In that moment, it was as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you. The sanctuary, its audience and ambient murmurs, faded into the background, leaving only the charged connection between you and Baby Billy. His eyes, so penetrating and vivid, held you captive, conveying a silent message that was both thrilling and unnerving.

His smirk deepened, a small but deliberate acknowledgment of the influence he had on you. You felt exposed, as though he could see right through the façade of composure you tried to maintain. The room felt warmer, the air thicker, every sense heightened by the charged interaction. Your heart raced, and your breaths came quicker, shallow and uneven, as you struggled to regain control.

The folds of your dress became a focus for your hands, fingers trembling as they smoothed and re-smoothed the fabric in a futile attempt to calm your nerves. Nothing could lessen the impact of his gaze. His sermon and presence made you feel singled out and significant, as if he intended them solely for you.

His eyes moved on, continuing to scan his flock, but the spell he had cast remained. You were left feeling flustered, your cheeks still flushed, and an unfamiliar yet exhilarating sense of longing settling in your chest. The rest of the room came back into focus, the collective presence of the congregation reasserting itself, but the lasting effect of his stare lingered. You knew that something had shifted within you, a spark ignited by the magnetic pull of Baby Billy Freeman’s attention, leaving you both eager and apprehensive about the next encounter.

The moment came sooner than you expected when Judy Gemstone grabbed your hand and marched you toward the backroom after the service, her heels clipping briskly on the tiled floor as you hurried to keep up. Suspense and lingering incense from the church filled the air, adding a heady sense of urgency to Judy’s determined stride.

You had been friends with Judy long enough to recognize the signs—her set jaw, the tenacious glint in her eyes, and the way she moved with single-minded purpose. Judy was on a mission, and right now, that mission was to secure the coveted position of the lead vocalist of her uncle’s church. Almost tangibly, her passion fuelled her determination to prove her brothers wrong and show her father she could uphold the Gemstone reputation.

Like the rest of the Gemstones, Judy’s determination was a force of nature. Her drive to impress her family was relentless, and it often swept you up in its wake. You had long accepted your role as her loyal sidekick, accompanying her on various ventures and ambitions. Today was no different. She dragged you into the backroom of the church, her arm linked tightly through yours. Memories of similar situations flooded your mind, each one of her ideas more hare-brained than the last.

The backroom, a repurposed Sears storage room, was a hive of activity, with band members chatting animatedly and church staff tidying up after the service. The noise and movement seemed to part like the Red Sea before Judy, her appearance commanding immediate attention. You stayed close, your heart fluttering at the prospect of finally meeting Baby Billy Freeman.

The service wasn’t the first occasion you had laid eyes on him, but it was the first time you had done so in person. Your mother admired Amy-Leigh Gemstone for a long time. They became close friends, which likely led to your introduction into Judy’s social circle. She had keenly tracked Amy-Leigh’s ascent to fame, along with her brother, accumulating their albums and any related merchandise available.

Your family home was practically a museum dedicated to the siblings. Vivid posters of Baby Billy decorated the walls, providing a stark contrast to the otherwise subdued décor. Shelves brimmed with collectibles ranging from signed photographs to rare figurines, each item echoing your mother’s deep appreciation for the famed clogging pair. Items adorned with Baby Billy’s image, from coffee mugs to decorative pillows, filled the space, turning it into a veritable shrine.

After your own mother passed away, Amy-Leigh became like a second mother to you, and her eventual passing left a profound void in your life. The Gemstones embraced you, providing a modest home within their compound and a job assisting with their ministry. The day Eli announced Baby Billy’s appointment as head pastor of their new centre, you could hardly believe it. Years of fawning over the man on the poster, and finally you were going to be within proximity of him.

Judy’s heels clicked with authority as she approached the corner where her uncle stood, surrounded by a small group of admirers. His charismatic aura was unmistakable, even in this more casual setting. He was in the midst of a conversation, his laughter rich and inviting, but it cut off smoothly as he noticed Judy’s determined approach.

“Uncle Baby Billy,” Judy called out, her voice clear over the din. “We need to talk.”

He turned towards her, his eyes momentarily flicking to you, a spark of recognition lighting up his features. His smile broadened, that familiar smirk playing at the edges of his lips. Your pulse quickened as his gaze held yours for a beat longer than seemed necessary before he turned his full attention to Judy.

“Judy, my favourite niece,” he greeted, his voice warm and welcoming, though his eyes still held a mischievous glint. “What brings you here?”

Judy didn’t waste a moment. She launched into her pitch with the fervour of someone who had rehearsed every word, every inflection. She spoke of her vocal talents, her dedication to the church, and her deep desire to serve in a greater capacity. Her words were passionate and persuasive, painting a vivid picture of her as the ideal candidate for the lead vocalist role. All true for the moment, but her attentions were often fleeting.

As Judy presented her case, you couldn’t help but notice how Baby Billy listened intently. Yet, every so often, his eyes would dart back to you, a silent, lingering glance that made your skin heat. You busied yourself by nodding along to your friend’s speech, trying to appear composed despite the tumult of emotions within you.

Judy concluded her pitch with a confident smile. “So, Baby Billy, what do you say? Give me the chance to prove myself.”

Baby Billy leaned back, his expression thoughtful and appraising as he considered her request. His eyes flicked between Judy and you, a smile spreading across his face. “Well, Judy, you certainly make a compelling case,” he said, his tone measured. Then, his gaze settled on you, and his smile took on a warmer, more personal touch. “What about you, darlin’? Do you think my niece has the pipes to pull it off?”

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand under his attention, the depth of his gaze making your heart race. You noticed every detail—the slight arch of his brow, the glint of curiosity in his eyes, and the expectant look on Judy’s face. Your mind whirled, searching for the right words, knowing that this moment was crucial for your friend.

Clearing your throat, you straightened up, wrangling your fingers out of nervous habit. “Absolutely, Pastor Freeman,” you began, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “Judy has an incredible voice and a passion for music, just like her mama.” A small, white lie. You would pray later.

Baby Billy smiled, his eyes never leaving yours as he seemed to weigh your words. The connection between you felt almost tangible, a silent communication that left you both exhilarated and unnerved. He nodded, his gaze shifting back to Judy.

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got quite the endorsement, Judy,” he said, his tone approving. “Let’s see what you’ve got. How about a little audition, just so’s its fair? Don’t want ol’ Baby Billy being accused of playing favourites, now.”

Judy beamed with excitement, her eyes sparkling with a readiness that lit up the room. “I’m ready, Uncle Baby Billy! I’ll blow the roof off this place,” she declared, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Just tell me where you want me!”

“Hold on there, speed racer,” he chuckled, raising a hand to temper her enthusiasm. “There’s a bit of preparation that needs to be done first.” He gestured toward a group of staff members who were exiting the backroom to continue the clean-up in the centre. “Why don’t you help tidy up while the band gets themselves ready on stage?” he suggested, handing her a mop from the trolley behind him with a playful smile.

Judy’s face fell for the briefest moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features. “Uh, no fuckin’ way,” she protested, holding the mop out to you. You took it from her, feeling the rough handle in your grip. “I’m the star, not the help.”

Baby Billy exhaled and caressed his forehead with his thumb as he glanced at her. “Now, Judy, we must exhibit grace in all our actions,” he murmured, retrieving the mop from your grasp and placing it in her hands. His fingertips grazed yours, sending a shock wave of energy through your nerves. “Amy-Leigh and I, we began by mopping the floors of the church halls where we would perform each Sunday.”

Judy looked down at the mop in her hands, her defiance wavering as she absorbed his words. “Those were humble beginnings,” he continued, his voice filled with a nostalgic warmth. “But it taught us the value of hard work and humility. We learned to appreciate every step of our journey, no matter how insignificant it seemed.”

Judy sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Alright, Baby Billy,” she muttered, reluctantly accepting her fate. “But you owe me one for this.” She turned to you, jutting her head towards the door. “Let’s go.”

Baby Billy chuckled, a soft, reassuring sound that seemed to lighten the atmosphere. “Hold on a minute,” he patted Judy’s shoulder gently, his touch almost fatherly. His gaze then shifted to you, his eyes twinkling with both mischief and sincerity. “I have a different job for your friend here,” he said, his voice laden with a sense of importance. He turned fully towards you, his smile warm and inviting. “If you’ll accept.”

You felt the weight of his words, the air thick with anticipation as Judy’s eyes fell on you. Baby Billy’s influence was commanding. It made you feel both honoured and nervous.

You nodded, your voice barely audible, and uttered, “I’ll help.”

“Alright,” he grinned, slapping his hands together with enthusiasm. He instructed the band and the other employees to return to the main area as he carefully led Judy to the exit. “Make sure you give it a thorough cleaning, Judy. The Lord is always watchin’,” he remarked, nudging her through the door and shutting it on her objections.

Your throat dried as you watched him twist the lock, producing a thunderous click that reverberated throughout the silent room. The sound seemed to echo endlessly, amplifying the tension that had been steadily building. He redirected his attention to you, his expression warm and inviting, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. Yet, there was a glint of something darker in his eyes, a flicker of intent that sent a shiver down your spine.

“She’s got a lot of spirit, doesn’t she?” he said, his tone light as he stalked towards you. You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat under his potent stare. “Always been so desperate to prove herself, our sweet Judy,” he continued. His eyes didn’t leave yours. He stopped just a step away from you. “What about you?” he asked, his voice dropping to a soft, almost tender whisper.

As you swallowed hard, the severity of his question hit you. The room felt suffocating as you struggled to calm your breathing. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something deeper, and you found it hard to think straight under his watch.

“What about me?” you gulped, your voice hardly steady.

He stepped closer, and instinctively, you took a step back. Your back hit the edge of the vanity, causing various lotions and potions to topple over, clattering onto the floor. Your fingers grasped at the table, the cool wood grounding you as you looked up into Baby Billy’s predatory gaze.

His eyes, fierce and unyielding, locked onto yours, making your heart pound against your chest. He was so close that you could feel the raw magnetism seeping from him, leaving you feeling both vulnerable and electrified.

“Are you desperate to prove yourself?” he asked, his finger lightly grazing your chin. He tilted it upwards, leaving you no choice but to look directly at him. The touch of his fingertip sent a pulse of arousal through you, making your pussy thrum. You squeezed your thighs together to ease the ache between them. His gaze was unrelenting, piercing through your defences and searching for the truth hidden within you.

“I-I don’t know,” you stammered, your voice breaking. It wasn’t true. Deep inside, you felt a magnetic pull toward the older man standing before you, a profound need to please him. You’d fantasized about this moment countless times over the years, your fingers teasing your most sensitive spots as you pictured him. You had writhed against your mattress, biting your lip to stifle his name from escaping them in a heated whisper. You’d wanted him for so many years.

“Don’t be shy now,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes glinted with amusement and something primal. “You certainly weren’t when you were giving me those eyes during the service.” His voice dripped with a teasing tone, each word deliberately slow, as if savouring the memory.

His words sent a flush of heat through your cheeks and you tried to look away, but his finger held your chin in place, keeping your gaze locked with his. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his presence overwhelming. The room seemed to shrink around you, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension and desire as you looked up at him, transfixed.

His thumb brushed lightly across your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. The scent of his cologne filled your senses, making it hard to think clearly. His eyes, a captivating blend of mischief and command, searched yours for any sign of resistance, but all he found was the raw vulnerability you tried to hide.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” he uttered, his voice a velvety whisper that seemed to wrap around you. “I see you, all of you.” The sincerity in his tone made your heart clench, any defiance melting away under the heat of his gaze.

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your lips, teasing and tempting. The closeness was intoxicating, every nerve in your body alert to his presence. You could feel the strength in his grip, the subtle dominance that made you weak with craving. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, the promise of what could happen hanging heavily in the air.

“I saw the way you looked at me,” he continued, his voice low and intimate. “Like you were daring me to come over and do something about it.” His eyes smouldered with intent, and the smirk on his lips grew more pronounced. The weight of his gaze was almost too heavy to withstand, filled with challenge and promise that made your pulse quicken.

You struggled to react to his words, a haze of lust clouding your mind as he leaned in closer. The mixture of authority and need in his eyes was utterly mesmerizing, making it impossible to look away. Your entire being, every fibre in your body was alive with excitement.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Do you want me to do something about it?” His question hung in the air, the weight of it pressing down on you as you struggled to find your voice.

Another sharp intake, the proximity and the raw emotion in his voice, leaving you vulnerable. “Yes,” you whispered, the admission sending a thrill through you.

A satisfied smile curved his lips as he pressed a soft, chaste kiss to your mouth. “Good,” he whispered back, his voice low and commanding. “Clothes off, angel.”

His words sent a shiver of anticipation through you, and you hesitantly glanced toward the door. Sensing your distraction, he gently tilted your chin back toward him, his eyes locking onto yours with a determined gaze.

“Don’t you worry about her,” he assured, his voice soft yet assertive, drawing your attention back to the moment. “You focus on me.”

“But you said that the Lord is always watching,” you reminded him, echoing the words he had spoken to Judy just moments before.

Raised in a devout Christian household, you had lived and worked with the Gemstones, always striving to be the virtuous, Christian woman your mother wanted you to be. A part of you knew that this was sinful, felt wrong, like a lamb being led to slaughter. Yet a larger part of you—the part that felt a fire ignited within, burning and aching for more of his touch—knew that your words were a hollow attempt to save face before you gave in.

He smiled, running his hands up and down your arms in a soothing gesture. “The Lord and I, we have a deal,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring. “Ain’t no one’s eyes on you but mine.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, both comforting and thrilling. Taking a step forward, his hand made contact with your cheek, his thumb softly caressing your skin. “I bet you’ve tried so hard to be the good girl, to live up to everyone’s expectations,” he murmured. “But what about your own needs? What about what you want, hmm?”

Your heart pounded as his words took hold, resonating within you. The years of restraint, the hidden fantasies, all converged at this single moment. “I... I want this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ve never been with a man before.”

His smile widened, a mix of triumph and tenderness. “Oh darlin’, I know that. I’ll be gentle,” he said, his voice a low, seductive murmur. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, drawing you closer until your lips were almost touching. “Let me show you what it means to truly surrender.”

The last barrier within you crumbled, and with a shuddering breath, you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both fervent and tender. You sighed into his mouth as his tongue licked against your own; the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. You felt consumed by him. It was as if all your reservations had melted away, leaving only a deep, aching need for his touch. His hands roamed your body with a possessive tenderness, and you knew there was no turning back.

He released you, gave you an encouraging smile as his eyes flickered over your body. You hesitantly undressed, your fingers fumbling with the buttons and fabric. The room seemed to grow warmer with each piece of clothing that fell away, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air. His expression was a mix of appreciation and yearning, his eyes darkening with every inch of you revealed.

“That’s it,” he said when you were bare before him. He stepped closer, his fingers tracing a path down your chest, over the swell of your breast. The touch was exhilarating, sending waves of sensation through your body. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over you with undisguised admiration. “A sight to behold.”

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together. The feel of the rich fabric of his suit against your skin gave you goosebumps, and he slowly traced kisses down the expanse of your neck, over your collarbone, until he reached your breasts. He took one hardened nipple into his mouth, enclosing his lips around it as you gasped.

You grabbed hold of his shoulders for support as your legs weakened from the fiery touch of his tongue. His mouth worked skilfully, alternating between gentle sucking and flicking, setting your nerves on fire. His other hand caressed your side, his touch both reassuring and tantalizing.

“You’re so sensitive,” he mumbled into you, his voice thick with want. His hand moved to your other breast, his thumb brushing over the nipple, eliciting another gasp from you. He switched his attention, giving your other nipple the same devoted attention, his mouth and hand working in perfect harmony.

Your body responded to his touch, arching into him as the pleasure built. The contrast of the soft fabric of his suit and the firmness of his body against your bare skin heightened every sensation. You could sense the power in his shoulders under your grip, grounding you as he continued his exploration.

He left your nipple with a suctioned pop, lifting you until you perched on the vanity table. His mouth was back on you, kisses trailing lower over your breasts, down your stomach as his hands guided you to lean against the mirror. He knelt between your legs, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. His fingers grazed your thighs as he paused. Looking up at you, a devious grin spreading across his lips.

“Wouldn’t deny an old man a taste, would you?” he asked, low and teasing as he parted your legs wider.

You held back a moan, the longing building as his hands caressed your thighs, spreading them apart. The cool surface of the mirror against your back contrasted with the heat of his breath on your skin, making every feeling more intense. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you pulsating.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “I wouldn’t.”

His smile widened, a look of triumph and hunger in his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmured, his hands sliding round to grip your thighs firmly, your mind reeling from his praise.

He leaned in, his mouth descending to your core, and you mewled his name as the flat of his tongue dragged through your wet slit. He moved skilfully, exploring every inch of you, his hands holding you open as he flicked and swirled his tongue over your sensitive flesh. When his lips wrapped around your clit and he began sucking gently on the bundle of nerves, you couldn’t suppress the whine that escaped your lips.

One of your hands left the vanity, slipped into his perfect hair, tugging and pulling him closer, desperate to feel more of the intense, foreign sensation. He groaned in response; the vibration adding another layer of pleasure as he continued his ministrations, his tongue dancing over your most sensitive spots with precision and care.

Your hips bucked against him when you felt his tongue dipping into your tight hole. He laughed, his grip on your thighs tightening as he held you to the table and fucked your cunt with his tongue. His strong nose brushed against your sensitive clit, and you cried out, fighting against his hold to grind against him, desperate for more friction.

“Baby Billy, it feels s-so good,” you moaned, your voice trembling with pleasure.

With his finger prodding at your entrance, your grip on his hair tightened and your back arched, while his lips encased your clit again, sucking with fervour as you adjusted to the stretch of his finger.

As he stared at you greedily, he pulled back to witness his finger sliding into you, wet with your juices. “Oh, you sweet thing,” he cooed, his voice dripping with lust, adding to the growing tightness of the coil within you. Your eyes widened as you felt another finger prod experimentally at your hole, swirling through your arousal before pushing in to join the first. You gasped at the stretch, then broke into a cry when he curled them against you, hitting a spot that had your vision spotting.

With precision, he twisted and thrust his fingers, never taking his eyes off your face as he watched your reactions. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a mix of encouragement and dominance. “Let me see how good it feels.”

Your pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak. His fingers moved faster, curling and stroking the sensitive spot inside you with expert skill as the rings that adorned them stretched you deliciously, the chill of them a shock against your dripping heat. The wet sounds of your arousal and your increasingly frantic moans echoed throughout the room.

“Please,” you begged, your voice breaking. “Don’t stop.”

He smirked, relishing the impact he had on you, and the sight of him so dishevelled—hair unkempt and face glistening from your juices—had you grasping at him, pulling him up toward you for another heated kiss. You rocked your hips harder as he continued to fuck his fingers into you, the taste of yourself on his lips adding to the sinful pleasure.

His mouth swallowed your moans, the kiss deep and hungry, your tongues tangling as you revelled in the shared intensity. His fingers moved relentlessly, curling and thrusting with expert precision, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over as he thumbed your clit.

The room seemed to spin as the pleasure built, your body tightening around his fingers. His free hand roamed your body, caressing and gripping your curves, adding to the sensation of overload. Every touch, every thrust, pushed you towards the brink.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured against your lips. “Feel how wet you are, letting Baby Billy do such unholy things to you.”

You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The rhythm of his fingers was driving you wild, the coil inside you tightening to the breaking point.

A choked sob escaped you as your muscles clenched around his fingers, your body convulsing with pleasure as the tension finally broke. He held you through it, fingers never stopping their assault, drawing out every shudder and gasp. You slowly came back down, eyes bleary and body quivering around him. He looked down at the mess between your thighs where his fingers were slowly retracting from your cunt. His eyes shone with a satisfied gleam.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. His fingers glistened with your arousal as he brought them to his lips, tasting you once more with a low, appreciative moan. “You’re nice and ready for me now,” he grinned, pushing between your legs to grind his clothed arousal against you.

He groaned, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you to move against him. “Feel that?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “That’s what you’ve done to me.” His eyes locked on yours. The intensity in them makes even more heat pool between your thighs.

The friction of his hard length against your slick folds sent shivers through your body, your hips rocking against him to seek more. His grip tightened, controlling your movements as he pressed harder against you, the fabric of his pants only heightening the sensation.

“You want this, don’t you?” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me how much you want it now.”

You reacted to his command, a moan escaping your lips as you ground against him with more urgency. “I want it,” you uttered, your voice quivering with longing. “Please, Baby Billy. I need you.”

His grin widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he watched you writhe against him. “Oh angel,” he sighed, his voice rough with lust. “You’re gonna get exactly what you need.”

He pulled back just enough to unzip his pants, freeing his aching cock. The sight made your mouth water—thick and long, with a slight curve and beads of pre-cum glistening on his swollen, red tip. He stroked himself, spreading the slickness over his length, and you watched, mesmerized. A sudden curiosity flooded you, imagining the weight and taste of him on your tongue.

“See something you like?“ he teased, his voice a sultry, enticing rumble. His eyes clouded with desire as he watched your reaction, enjoying the effect he had on you. He stepped closer, his hand still working his shaft slowly, as if to give you a show. His eyes flicked to the door, then back to you, his expression deep in thought. “Ain’t enough time for that now, but you best believe I’ll be puttin’ that mouth to good use next time.”

Before you had time to contemplate his words, Baby Billy grabbed at your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he positioned himself at your entrance. The weeping head of his cock teased through your slick folds, sending shivers up your spine. His eyes snapped to yours when he heard the whimper fall from your lips, an almost sadistic grin spreading across his face.

Whispering softly, he brushed his lips teasingly against yours, and said, “Once I’m finished with you, you’ll belong to me, understand?”

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered you. The stretch was an exquisite blend of pleasure and pain, making your vision blur and chest heave as you clung to him. Driven wild by the sensation of your tight, wet heat, he let out a guttural moan as he pushed himself deeper.

“Good Lord, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, his voice thick with passion. His firm hands held onto your hips tightly, bringing you closer as he filled you entirely. The overwhelming force of the moment left you breathless, your body trembling with each inch he claimed.

He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the fullness, his eyes hardened with possessiveness as they locked onto yours. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Made just for me.”

His words made you keen, your mind empty except for the thought of Baby Billy and his cock consuming you. Pleas tumbled from your lips, urging him to move, begging him to fill you, and he groaned as he snapped his hips, setting a slow and deliberate pace so that you could feel every ridge of his cock as he moved within you.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut briefly at the tightness of you around him, fingers digging into your hips as he fucked into you. “Take all of me. I know you can.”

As the sparks of pain subsided, overwhelming surges of pleasure took over. The vanity and mirror slammed loudly against the wall as he rocked your hips to meet his, matching his rhythm perfectly. You were so absorbed in him you didn’t care about the door just a few feet away, separating your friend — his kin — from possibly hearing the illicit act you were engaged in.

With your back arching into him, you pleaded for more, as his lips wrapped around your nipple again, eliciting a desperate whine from you. “Faster, please.”

With a growl, he responded, grazing your sensitive bud with his teeth, causing you to sharply inhale. His muffled curse vibrated against your skin as he picked up the pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that reached new depths, pushing you closer to the edge. Your nails dug into his shoulders, crinkling the fabric of his expensive suit.

“I knew you weren’t as innocent as you seemed,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice dripping with raw desire. “Can’t get enough of Baby Billy, can you?”

His breath was hot and heavy against your chest, each word making your spine tingle. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you closer as he thrust deeper, the intensity of his movements mirroring the hunger in his voice.

“It’s like music to my ears, hearing you beg,” he murmured, delivering a final flick of his tongue over your nipple before straightening to meet your gaze. “My new favourite song.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart race even faster, the connection between you electrifying. He held your gaze with an intensity that left you breathless, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. Every thrust, every touch, was a symphony of pleasure that built and built, pushing you both closer to the edge.

As you teetered on the brink of another orgasm, your breaths came in ragged gasps, and your muscles spasmed. One of Baby Billy’s hands left your thighs, snaking between you to trace wet circles over your swollen clit. You bucked into his hand, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body, as he looked down at you with pride.

“That’s it. Sing for me, angel,” he commanded.

As your body convulsed around him, a broken cry ripped from your throat. Your thighs shook and you gripped him tighter, riding out your earth-shattering ecstasy, every muscle tightening as you clutched desperately at him. He watched you with a primal hunger, his eyes dark and filled with greed, captivated by the sight of you falling apart on his cock.

Your walls clenched rhythmically around him, drawing a gasping moan from his lips. The sensation was too much for him to handle, and his thrusts became sloppy and erratic, each movement driven by pure instinct. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, trying to maintain some semblance of control as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice heavy with need. “You got me feelin’ some kind of way, angel. Something wicked.”

His words had you spiralling, your orgasm continuing to crash over you like a tidal wave. Your garbled cry cut short as he captured your lips with his and you moaned into his mouth, riding out the rest of your climax with desperate ruts of your hips, clinging to him for dear life.

His kiss was deep and consuming, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he couldn’t get enough of you. He held you tight, grounding you both as he bucked at a frenzied pace, chasing his own release. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the faltering rhythm of his thrusts echoing in the heated air. Your lips tore from his, head dropped back against the mirror, eyes half-closed, as you surrendered to Baby Billy’s insistent need.

He used your cunt for his own amusement, his thick girth splitting you open and filling you. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure and pain through your body, the intensity almost too much to bear. You breathed in shallow, erratic gulps, mingling with his groans of pleasure.

“You gonna let Baby Billy finish inside of you?” he grunted as you felt the powerful contraction of his muscles under your fingers. “Go back out there with my cum filling you, let everyone know who owns you now.”

His words, steeped in raw, possessive control, gave you goosebumps. The heat between you was almost unbearable, and the thought of being so intimately claimed ignited a fire within you. You could barely manage a nod, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Yes,” you managed, your voice trembling with need. “F-fill me.”

His eyes shone at your words, lighting up with pride. You felt him pulse and throb inside you, and with a final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. His body shuddered as he found his release, the hot spurts of his cum flooding you, mingling with your own arousal to create an intoxicating warmth. You milked him for every drop of his seed, drawing out every ounce of pleasure.

Your body, wrecked and trembling, collapsed against his as you sobbed into the crook of his neck. A combination of fulfilment and exhaustion washed over you, your breathing slowly adjusting to a calmer rhythm. His gentle touch roamed your spine in soothing strokes, grounding you as you both basked in the afterglow. The surrounding air seemed to hum with the energy of your passion, the scent of sweat and sex lingering, creating a heady, intimate atmosphere.

With his breath still uneven against your skin, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “That was a job well done,” he murmured, his voice prideful despite his jest. He groaned as he pulled himself from your swollen cunt, eyes shining at the sight of you leaking with his load. You whimpered at the emptiness, a pout forming on your lips as he tucked himself away, but then he pushed two digits into you, stuffing your pussy almost full again.

“Keep it all in there,” he said, his eyes flicking to you as he twisted his fingers. The squelch of his load being forced back inside of you filled the room, an erotic sound that made your mouth water. “I wasn’t lying. Baby Billy wants you out there, front and centre.”

The intensity in his gaze, coupled with the sensation of his fingers pushing his cum deeper inside you, had you shaking again. Each movement was deliberate, ensuring you felt every bit of his claim on you. The thought of stepping out, filled with his essence, ignited a mix of thrill and arousal within you.

He finally withdrew his fingers, leaving you with a lingering sense of fullness. “Now, let’s get you dressed,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He helped you to your feet, steadying you as you adjusted to standing. The rush of reality hit you as you caught sight of yourself in the mirror—marks from his mouth adorned your breasts, and bruises from his fingers dotted your thighs. You looked spent, yet there was a radiant glow to your skin that hadn’t been there before.

You watched in the mirror as Baby Billy adjusted his suit, fixing his hair until it was back in almost perfect condition. He dabbed at the sweat that had formed on his brow with his handkerchief, his focus intent on readying himself. The sight of him, composed and immaculate, made you suddenly aware of your own state. You felt uncomfortably exposed and quickly retrieved your clothes from the floor.

Your body ached as you dressed, each movement a reminder of what you’d just done. Your muscles throbbed from the recent exertion, and as you put on your clothes, the thoughts that had been repressed by passion now surged through your mind. The reality of your sin with the pastor drowned you in a wave of guilt and confusion.

You wanted to regret it, to tell yourself that you would pray for forgiveness, but you knew it wasn’t true. You’d wanted him so much, was willing to throw all caution to the wind and give yourself so freely to him. Now, he seemed so distant from you, and maybe that felt worse than anything. The desire that had driven you to this moment still simmered under the surface, a raw and undeniable truth.

As you finished dressing, you caught your reflection in the mirror. The marks on your body, the glow in your skin, all told the story of what had transpired. You felt a complex mix of emotions—shame, guilt, satisfaction, and a strange sense of pride.

Baby Billy turned to you, his eyes softening as he took in your appearance. “You alright?” he asked, his voice gentle, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before.

With a nod, you managed a slight smile. “Yeah, I think so.”

Drawing nearer, he lightly brushed his thumb against your cheek. “No one else needs to know what happened here.”

You took a deep breath, fully absorbing the impact of his words. The secret you now shared felt like a heavy burden, one you couldn’t speak of to anyone. The fear that this might be your last moment with him gnawed at you, prompting you to ask softly, “Will I see you again?”

He smiled, a teasing glint in his eye, as he leaned in to place a gentle, lingering kiss on your lips. When he pulled back, he lightly tapped his finger over your bottom lip, his touch both tender and possessive.

“Oh darlin’,” he drawled, his voice low and filled with promise, “didn’t I already tell you I’d be puttin’ this mouth to good use one day?” 

The way he said it sent a chill through you, the intimacy of his words and the light touch on your lip igniting a spark within you. His eyes held yours, the playful glint mixing with something deeper, a reassurance that this moment was far from the last.

As he stepped back, his hand trailed from your lip to your chin, lifting it slightly. His gaze softened, the teasing replaced with genuine affection as he murmured, “this isn’t the last you’ll see of Baby Billy.”

[megangovier]

Need more uncle baby Billy smut? wait till later ;)

[roadkillremi]

Don't tell Mom.

Uncle! Randy X F!Reader

MasterList

Warning :Mentions of Ghostface, Coming out, Mentions violence.

Summary : During the final showdown Randy, Sam, Sidney, Gale and Reader somehow save the day. Though Randy broke his ankle and Mindy begged him to stay over for awhile.

(Am I making Randy a dilf? Yes, Yes I am.)

You woke up in the guest room alone, you sighed sitting up. You knew he probably was up with Mindy all night. You put a robe around you and shuffled into the hallway. You made sure to stay silent as you walked towards the living room. Randy was fast asleep on the recliner, his mouth partially open. You gently kissed his forehead causing him to flutter open up his eyes.

"Hm?" He lightly groaned squinting at you. You gave him a soft smile, "I'm gonna make pancakes, okay?". He nodded before drifting back to sleep, you glanced over at Mindy who was propped up by pillows. She wore a tank top with bandages wrapped around her right shoulder. You made pancakes for the three of you. Martha was still at the hospital with Chad, his recovery wasn't as speedy. You grabbed the remote off the side table by the couch. You turned it on letting the Saturday cartoons play. Mindy sat up some narrowing her eyes towards you.

"Aunt Y/N?"

"Yeah?" You said peaking over from the kitchen. Mindy nodded, "Just making sure it's you.". She plopped back down drifting back to sleep. You found breakfast trays under one of the cabinets. You set two of them up, one for Mindy and one for Randy. You gently placed Randy's on his lap and ruffled his hair. You then got Mindy's, "Good morning you two.". Mindy glanced at you, "Too early.". You put the tray down on her lap, "It's 10 am.".

"I agree with her." Randy muttered. You put a hand on your hip, "Then you make breakfast.". Randy looked at his pancakes, "Second thought, I'm just gonna shut up.".

"How's your ankle, baby?" You asked gently. Randy chewed a bite of pancake, "Stings like a bitch.". You sighed, "I know, I'm sorry.". You went over to the side to give him a kiss.

"You two are so gross.." Mindy cringed. Randy smiled, "You'll get it when you're older. Besides it looked like you had a little girlfriend at that party.". Mindy went silent, "It was just Frances..".

"Is something wrong?" Randy tilted his head towards her. She shook her head, "I mean I'm out to my brother and friends. But Mom doesn't know.". Randy nodded, "I don't think she'll mind.".

"You're not mad?" Mindy asked quietly. Randy shook his head no, taking a bite of pancakes.

"It's none of my business who you love. Guy, Girl, Unicorn.".

Mindy smiled, "Thanks.". Randy shrugged, "Don't thank me for having common sense.". Mindy smiled to herself and took a giant bite of pancakes.

"But don't tell mom." Mindy added. Randy nodded, "Of course. But if you need help I'm here for you.".

"Question."

"Shoot."

"Did Y/N really throw a lamp at Billy Loomis when he stabbed you?". Mindy asked. Randy lightly chuckled, "Yeah, she kinda went ape shit.".

"Yeah that's what the stab movie portrayed.". Mindy said softly. Randy leaned back relaxing from his meal.

"Never seen it.".

"How you're in it?! But not really.". Mindy said.

"Did you see the actor they chose for me? Come on! Plus Y/N was way hotter than that chick. Here lemme show you.". He grabbed his phone scrolling through photos. Mindy stared at him, "Do you know how to use a smartphone?" She asked jokingly. Randy gave her a look, "Yes. I do. I'm not that old.". You came back in with two mugs of coffee.

"Here ya go". You gently placed Randy's coffee on the side table.

"Look at her! I found the picture from an SD card on one of her old cameras." Randy shoved the phone towards Mindy. Mindy squinted at the phone while taking the mug from you.

"Wow, Aunt Y/N you were way out of his league." Mindy said. You shook your head, "Stop showing people pictures of me.".

"She's barely aged too." Randy muttered turning off his phone.

"She used to carry this camcorder everywhere in college. She'd always take stupid pictures and photos of me.". You rolled your eyes.

"Randall Meeks get your ass up and clean up your mess.". You said walking into the kitchen. Randy grunted, "But my ankle!".

"You have a crutch use it."

"You heard her." Mindy said. Randy tried to get up, you walked in helping him get the crutch. You grabbed the breakfast tray and Randy grabbed his old cup from yesterday. Mindy watched the two of you with a smile.

"So you're moving out of California?" She called.

"Yeah!" You called back. Randy appeared in the doorway, "I have a new project in New York.". Mindy sat up, "No way! The college I applied for is in New York!". Randy smiled, "That's awesome!". You shooed Randy out of the doorway, he moved down the hall to the guest room. You took Mindy's breakfast tray, "Thanks" she smiled. You shrugged, "It's the least I can do.". You put the tray on the kitchen counter before walking back to the living room.

"How long are you and uncle Randy staying?" Mindy asked.

"I... I'm not sure." You said softly.

"However long we need to!" Randy called from the hall. You put a hand on your hip, "You just have to be in every conversation.". He smiled at you, "Yup". He gave you a kiss before sitting down.

[bookshelf-dust]

a camaro and a tree.

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 2,764

warnings: swearing, innuendos/billy being a flirty asshole aka being himself, mentions of neil, fluffy/lovey shit

a/n: hii :)) happy holidays! i hope that you’re enjoying whatever you celebrate, and if you don’t celebrate anything, i hope you are enjoying life in general. i’d been tossing this idea around and around in my head for forever, and i finally wrote it! i really hope you enjoy it. billy and readers first christmas while living together? yes, yes i think so. i love you all! <333

————

“You know, there’s a whole ass couch that you could be spread out on in any way you please, Hargrove. I’m not entirely sure why you must splay yourself out on me.”

Billy shook the bag of Skittles in his hand around, presumably looking for the red ones. Those were his favorites, and he insisted they were better than all the rest, though you were adamant that a random handful of them was just as good—no need to be picky.

Billy crossed his legs at the ankles in response to your statement.

The both of you were sat on the sofa in your living room. It had started out with you curled up on one side, but the moment you stretched your legs out to settle on the coffee table, Billy had appeared. It was like he had a Spidey-sense.

And now he was on the other end, legs stretched out over top of your own. This is after he’d lifted the blanket from you to tuck his legs in with yours. Only he had shorts on, so now the warm skin of his calves was stuck to that of your thighs.

Billy was continually sinking further into the couch, and now snatching a pillow out from under your ass to put behind his back.

You rolled your eyes at his continued use of your space. He was surely making himself comfortable.

“You’re like a fucking house cat, you know that?”

Billy let out a breath of a laugh, eyes now on the television.

Maybe it wasn’t very “adult” of you to watch Full House during your free time, but Uncle Jessie had good hair (you seemingly had a type), and Stephanie had an excellent sense of humor.

It was more of a surprise that Billy put up with it at all, since he wasn’t keen on Growing Pains, and liked to stubbornly pretend he didn’t enjoy The Golden Girls. But he laughed at both Dorothy and Uncle Joey, no matter how many times he’d try to deny it.

He also requested you fill him in any time he missed an episode because he was home late from work.

You snuck your hand under the blanket to rub up and down Billy’s leg, fingers tracing from below his knee and across his thigh. He hummed his appreciation.

Eyes wandering from the tv, this being an episode you’d already seen, you realized how empty your living room looked.

Now maybe that was partially because the both of you did not have an abundance of furniture—a couch, a table, a stray oversized chair—but also because it was those slow few days before December began and you didn’t have a tree up.

This was the first Christmas that Billy and you would be spending in your shared little apartment, and you were rather excited about it.

Christmas hadn’t always been peaceful at home, for either of you, people being picky or whiny or just assholes in general.

But living with Billy made you feel whole. You felt safe with him, and he you.

It was just that this time, Christmas was up to you. You could do whatever you wanted and cook your favorites, or maybe not even at all. You could decorate however you pleased.

You turned to Billy, watched as he lifted his arm, pulling the chain on the floor lamp next to him, muscles shifting under the yellow light.

“When do you want to get a Christmas tree?”

He set his Skittles down, pulled his legs out from under your blanket. He propped his head up against the back of the couch with his arm, looking dreamily at you.

“You mean like buy one? I don’t imagine picking out a boxed tree is gonna be that hard.”

You sat up. “Ha! Oh no, baby, we are not getting a fake tree.”

You watched his brow furrow. “I’m pretty sure we dragged the same shit tree, box and all, from California to Indiana. Neil Hargrove was not keen on the idea of having to take care of a me, let alone a tree.”

You grimaced, and he continued. “You want to pick out a real one?” He tracked the movement of your head, your excited nod. “I’ve never done that before.”

You sat up on your knees. “It’s fun! We did it every year. Sometimes we’d pick one that was too tall and we could barely get the star on. I guess I thought we’d get to pick one out too. But if you’d rather an artificial one, that’s fine Billy.”

His hands found your face, callouses rubbing at your cheeks.

“No, sugar, a real one is fine. I assume you know where the hell we go?”

————

It took some driving around, but eventually you wound up at Merrill’s, wandering through the lanes of pines with all the other families and too loud children.

Billy walked behind you, hands stuffed in the pockets of your coat. Not only did you have little hand warmer packets, but Billy had yet to get a good pair of gloves.

He had finally relented and started wearing layers when it snowed, though that did not mean he’d done it without pouting.

So now, as the both of you sidestepped a stray toddler barreling through the thin layer of powder on the grass, the only bit of him that wasn’t actually warm were his hands.

You walked him to the shorter section of trees, thinking about how small your home actually was.

“What do you think about this one?”

You reached through the branches to grab hold of the the trunk, pulling it out and spinning it around to check all the sides.

“Stand next to it,” you told him.

“Sorry?” he questioned, obviously confused.

“You’re my size reference. Don’t,” you raised a hand, stopping him because he’d already opened his mouth, “make a dick joke. You can touch the ceilings when you raise your hands, so this is my measuring, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Billy gave you a two finger salute and moved next to the tree, it being just about the same height as he was. “Good?” He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Yep.” You heaved the tree back into its place, glancing at the aisle number before meandering through to look at a couple more.

Most of them were too tall, and because of that, too expensive. Even some of the shorter ones would’ve cost a pretty penny because of how nice they were: perfect shape, a dark, rich green, branches thick with needles.

“I think I liked that first one best, baby.” Billy’s breath was warm against your neck where he’d leaned over your shoulder to speak, what with a family of six standing right next to you, chatting exuberantly.

“I was thinking the same thing, Mr. Hargrove.”

You grabbed hold of his belt loops, tugging him along with you in search of your first tree.

Luckily, it was still there, and you made sure to put your hands on it, because there was a frightening looking woman eyeing it from across the way.

You hugged the tree, which brought out that sweet sweet laugh of Billy’s. “Let’s get this one then, huh?”

You nodded before pulling away, realizing you now had tree sap in your hair, not to mention an abundance of needles that you’d probably still be brushing out later.

Billy retrieved a cart to set the tree on, and you watched him lift with ease, wishing that was you he’d thrown over his shoulder.

“You’re staring.”

You pushed the cart towards the tree-trimmer, ignoring his statement.

Billy’s hands snuck up to the back of your neck, and then he was tickling you, cold fingertips dancing across your skin.

“Ignoring me now?” His voice was gravelly from the chill in the air, throat gone dry.

“Never. But I think the staring is allowed when we live together. You’re much too pretty for me.”

“I am gorgeous, aren’t I?”

You rolled your eyes at him, knowing you’d set yourself up for that one, and he planted a chilly kiss to your temple.

————

The drive home was short, but slightly terrifying. The Camaro was not built for having a tree tied to the top of it, and you were fidgety the whole trip.

Billy glanced your way before he pulled into the driveway. “You doubt my rope-tying skills, Y/N? Frankly, I’m offended.”

You opened your door before he could, which only spurred him on.

Billy pulled a pocket knife out from the glove compartment, flicking the blade open and cutting the ropes on your side of the car.

“I think we both know I excel at tying things up.”

“Billy,” you groaned his name, holding onto the tree so it wouldn’t slip while he cut the other side.

You could hear him laughing to himself, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster you.

The both of you slid the tree off the roof of Billy’s car, and he tossed you the keys.

You ran up the few stairs, unlocking the door and propping it open before going back to help him bring it inside.

While you were halfway through the door and feeling brave, you spoke. “You better behave yourself or we’re gonna find out how good my rope-tying skills are, Hargrove.”

You set the tree down, flying back out the door to get the stand out of the car before he could say anything.

Upon your return, Billy grabbed you by the waist, pinning you against the freshly closed front door.

“That’s not really threatening when you know I’d let you do whatever you wanted.”

You could feel yourself burning, and you tried to bury your face in his chest, but he caught your chin, quickly pressing his lips to yours.

When he pulled away his lips were that devastating shade of pink, and he was looking at you like you were everything in the world and more.

“Don’t go all shy on me now,” he propped his arm against the wall above your head, “now that we live together and whatnot.”

You grinned at him, and he kissed you silly for it.

————

It took a few days, but the tree had been successfully watered and kept alive, though it was still bare of any ornaments.

The lights had been easy to choose at Melvald’s, and Joyce had helped you pick out some she liked to put outside too.

So, gradually, both Billy and you had been bringing home a menagerie of bulbs and things for the tree, determined to make it your own and not have some shop-window-looking thing in your home.

One afternoon Billy gets off work early, but comes home to find you out and about, having left a note on the counter for him.

When you do come home, he’s in pajama bottoms and an old shirt, staring into the fridge like something’s going to hop out and prepare itself for him.

His face lights up when you emerge into the kitchen, arms immediately reaching for you, but you stop him with a raised hand. He practically frowns.

“I got you a prize, Billy baby.”

He propped his head up, hand under chin. “A prize?”

You nodded, wrestling with the bag on your hip, finally pulling something free.

“Hold out your hands.”

You plopped a small ornament into his hands. Specially a square one that looked like a vinyl sleeve, the tip of the record itself sticking out the side.

The sleeve was black and red, tiny writing across the top that said Metallica. It looked like the Kill ‘Em All album.

Billy looked up at you, eyes glossy. “Where’d you find this?”

“At the record store. They had a big tree with assorted ornaments for popular bands on it, I thought you’d like it. Do you?”

You watched as Billy flipped the ornament over in his hands, ran his thumb over the edge of the little black record, the top of the sleeve.

“‘Course I fuckin’ like it, baby.” He was giving you that prize-winning and swoon-worthy smile. The one you tried to tell yourself didn’t work on you. But that would just be a lie.

He scooped you up in his arms, squeezing you tight, lifting you just enough that your feet left the floor.

“The guy at the counter gave me a discount since we come in so often. Got myself one too.”

Billy set you down, walking to the living room to find a spot on the tree for his prize.

“I don’t get to see that one too?”

“Well yeah, sure. I was just excited about yours.” He watched you reach down in your bag for the other ornament you were supposedly housing. Sometimes with the way you searched for things in there, Billy thought you might as well be Mary Poppins.

You pulled out a simple gold ball that had the Queen logo on it in a black glossy film.

“That’s cute. Can I put it on?”

You nodded your assurance, watched dreamily as he put in on the tree.

Part of you couldn’t help but picture a smaller, much younger version of Billy doing the very same thing. Maybe with his mother.

“What’re you thinkin’ about, hon?” Billy’s voice broke you out of your stupor.

“You. What Christmas might’ve been like for you when you were younger. I was gonna ask if you even like it at all or if you’re just doing this for me.”

Billy continued to decorate the tree, opening a pack of Scooby-Doo ornaments that he’d found the other day—all five of them and a small Mystery Machine.

“Hold out your hands.”

You did, and Billy placed the ornaments along your palms so he could slip hooks in them.

“I do like Christmas,” he started, put Velma on the tree. “It was just always an ordeal, you know? First with my mom and Neil and then Susan. What we were gonna eat, if we had the money for presents at all, if I deserved anything.”

Shaggy and Scooby went up. Then Fred.

“It was just miserable, I guess. Everything was always such a big fuckin’ deal. But I don’t know, I guess I liked the atmosphere, or some shit? I guess the world feels a little more calm this time of year, though I know it’s not.”

Daphne. The Mystery Machine.

“And when we were in California and had to go see the little bit of extended family that we had, it was always ‘Billy you better behave,’ or ‘Don’t be an disrespectful,’ or anything that made sure I wasn’t going to fuck things up.”

“So I don’t think I ever had a chance to enjoy it. Not until you.”

He was silent for a minute plugging the lights in on the tree. “I better not turn around to see you giving me those watery eyes.”

He spun around, locking eyes with you. “No dice, huh?”

You shook your head. “Can I have a hug?”

Billy didn’t respond, but scooped you up his arms anyways. “You can have a hug whenever you want, baby.” He pressed a warm kiss to your forehead.

Billy’s hugs were all-consuming, the kind where there isn’t anything else in the world except for him. He tucks his cheek against your temple, wraps one arm around your shoulders and the other your back, hands rubbing all over, running down places they shouldn’t.

“So you liked your ornament, really?” Your voice was muffled where you face nuzzled his neck, metal chain warm on your nose.

“Yes. I love it.” His hands found your face, pulling you up from the safety of his chest.

“I love you, you know. And I meant what I said about enjoying this with you. Because I am.”

You pushed your hands under his shirt, the fabric coming with it because of how your arms were raised, trying to leech the heat from him.

“Kiss?” Billy was using that sultry tone, the one that made his words all slow. The one he used to butter you up.

“You can have a kiss whenever you want, baby.” He rolled his eyes at your mimicking of his earlier words.

You planted your lips firmly against his, enough that he sighed into it, breath warm on your face. You kissed him once, twice, three times before you pulled away, looking up at him, his lashes kissing at the corners, frown lines forming because you’d let up.

“I love you too, you know,” you told him, and his mouth was back on yours within the second.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[themotherofblood]

Did I Take It Too Far

Tywin Lannister x Reader

Tears of Gold - 27

The sun had found it’s way to the Red Keep this morning, allowing for some warmth in the chilled cold morning winds. You’d sat out in your gardens alone this morning since your sons had decided to sleep for longer. Your plants luckily hadn’t withered yet, many at court believed it was your good heart and some whispered rumours of greenseers and black magic.

You’d basked in the warmth of the sun as your uncle sat across from you, scribbling away at the many parchments of poetry he wrote for his daughters. He’d even written in for you, a slightly macabre one, it spoke of blood and lost time yet symbolically beautiful.

“Your husband has named me judge, for Tyrion Lannister’s trial.” Oberyn wiped the ink from his hands.

“So I’ve been told. I suppose you have earned your vengeance. Even though it is the wrong Lannister.” You shrugged, still packing soil in the clay pots.

“Would you rather I kill your husband?”

“Uncle…” You shook your head at his antics.

“Just giving you the option darling.” He smirked at his jokes.

The trial often scared you, you knew it in your heart and soul that Tyrion had not killed Joffrey, for one thing; he had nothing to gain from it, other than petty vengeance which brought you too the other fact; Tyrion was far too cunning to leave suspects if he truly murdered his nephew. Your husband however wanted to see none of said facts, he was biased and the seven hells know he wanted Tyrion dead.

“My lady, my lord, there has been summons for a council meeting.” Podrick bowed infrint if you and Oberyn.

At the behest of Tyrion, you had taken Podrick as a squire for Fredrick, he might finally teach the boy how to fight. However his loyalty made you want to command Fredrick in knighting him.

You walked with Oberyn to the council meeting, he helped you up the stairs of the tower, needing to take short breaks in between. Your husband much aware of your condition appeared to have no ill regard towards your tardy appearance. You sat onto your chair, letting if a sigh of relief as you rubbed your growing belly, Cersei as usually held a disapproving glare towards the members of the council.

“There is an urgent matter to be discussed, my lord.” Lord Varys spoke first. “The Targaryen girl in the East seems to have survived, she is also rumoured to be travelling with three baby dragons, and her last whereabouts are reported to be Qarth.”

“Then we hire better assains for the job, I'm sure the master of coun can facilitate for such an amount.” Cersei looked at you with a sneer on her face.

“Last I was told, she was a child? I don't she has grown in the past summer. What are the five and ten? A child!” You shook your head in disapproval.

“She has two advisors at her side and a small horde of Dothraki,” Varys informs the council,

“And Dragons.” Cersei added

“Baby Dragons,” You corrected her “It would be years before they’d be large enough for her to ride.” You claimed, highly irked by being asked to facilitate the murder of a child.

“What of Mormont? Was he not spying upon the girl for the crown.” Tywin questioned

“He seems to be loyal to her cause, my lord.” Varys informed your husband.

The subject of the murder of Daenerys Targaryen was dropped for your sake, you were sure they would try to sway you once more to hire assassins; from your knowledge the girl held her household in Qarth with no intentions of conquering Westeros.

Your husband’s head however, she would be just another name in the hordes of people that wanted Lord Tywin Lannister dead.

You had proclaimed for another lunch, much to discuss about Tommen’s ascension as the Tyrell’s fell into yours and Tywin’s scheme of increasing their support and dowry. Margerey would be set to wed the boy after an appropriate mourning for her unconsummated marriage.

In attendance were you and your husband sat at the heads of the tables, Cersei along with Tommen and your uncle Oberyn with Ellaria. An effort to dwindle the turmoil between the families. A smaller yet awkward conversation ensued with hard tried responses, you hoped no one would begin talks of politicking; the best way to begin yet another argument within the Martell’s and Lannister’s

“She was to sail to Essos, before…the wedding.” Oberyn snidely remarked, enjoying his third cup of wine. His tolerance to it was rather unmatched, he would put Tyrion to shame

“Essos is it?” Tywin looked to you, giving you a civil nod to elaborate further.

“We have a family manse there, Summer Shore. In fact, you should take Myrcella there. I’ve heard the waters there are glorious.” You smiled at your uncle.

“A whore’s city no doubt?” Cersei grumbled as she sipped on her goblet, looking at Oberyn unimpressed.

“Our ancestors had the palace and city built.” You defended, sounding offended at her remarks.

“A woman wasn’t she? A Targaryen courtesan?” Cersei sneered, clearly making attempts to undermine your blood

“Some believed she was a Queen, riding a three headed horse.” Oberyn glared at her.

“The histories are a fickle thing, my lady. Some believe the Mad King had bed every lady for the vassal house.” Ellaria japed, clearly making a remark about Joanna. That is where Tywin drew the line as his hand clenched into his goblet. Clearly the mistreatment of his late wife at court was a highly sensitive matter.

You had found yourself in your own chambers later in the evening, sipping onto a tea laced with minuscule amounts of milk of the poppy. You entire body had began to ache yet again, still battling the effects of your sixth month. Your handmaidens had been rather helpful with your sons, it hurt your surely about not being able to mother them yourself and yet your body would give out from the council meetings and the reports from the city watch.

“The aches have returned?” You husband’s voice boomed from behind you, the grimace on your face turned to a pained smile, shuffling your feet off the chaise of him to sit. He waved you off, letting your feet rest on his lap as he reached forward to rest his palm against your bum.

“I have called for advanced surgeons from Essos.” He looked over your pained state.

“We have Pycelle…?” You frowned and yet remained grateful at your husbands efforts to remedy your discomforts.

“That old stout seems to be incapable of determining your condition, he says you are well which any daft person could give you one look and know that you are suffering.” Tywin complained, as his other hand rubbed up and down your calf.

“My mother laboured for my birth too,” you reassured him, however you to feared the birthing bed this time. “I have enough fight in me to put King Jahereys’s seed to shame.” You japed

“Dear god, I have three that I can barely tolerate, two that insist in throwing food at one another and you want another eleven?” Tywin scoffed, the corners of his lips curling up.

“I apologise for what my aunt said at the lunch.” You face fell into an apologetic gleam, as your reached forward to rest your hands atop his palm.

“She had not mentioned something I haven’t heard a hundred times over.” Tywin dismissed you sympathy, fussing over a cushion and placing it behind your back.

“Which brings me to…” Tywin shakes his head in frustration “You are to remain abed during Joffrey’s tombing and Tommen’s nuptials.”

“What! I can’t- Tywin those responsibilities would fall to me considering Cersei ever works.” You huffed in annoyance.

“No- this is my final word Y/N, other than council meetings and if you wish to promenade. No further responsibilities other than looking after yourself.” He commanded, your pleading eyes unmoving of his decision.

“What of the trial? I am on the council.” You argued.

“You are unwell, other might foolishly drown in your pretences; I do not.” He shook his head, much of his frustrations radiating off of him.

“I know, it helps me to think otherwise,” you reasoned “For I know if I sat here toiling in pain my mind will begin to believe the tragedy bestowed upon me.”

“And what is that tragedy?”

You gave him a look of knowing annoyance, he was clearly aware of what your were insinuating and yet pretended to be deaf.

“If this babe should- if I would survive.”

After months of considering the possibilities you had finally voiced your fears, nipping at your lower lip ad Tywin’s frown deepened.

“Nothing is going to happen to you, or this babe.” He proclaimed like his word was gospel.

You spent that night curled in your own bed, shuffling and huffing unable to sleep, even Tywin read through nearly the end of Joanquil and her knights as you struggled to find slumber. Somewhere along the night, his body had caved to his exhaustion, you stared at his face as you mindlessly rubbed your belly, afraid of future possibilities.

You did not want to lose this child however you did not want to lose your life either. You’ve barely lived, barely fought for your ground, barely loved someone and mothered his children. You thought of your sons, wondering if the birthing bed did indeed take you. Would Tywin be cruel to them as well? Should the child that might rip through your womb survive, would he torment it too?

You had to live, for the sake of this child and your sons. You had to will strength into your body for the gods could only ponder on the question of what Tywin Lannister might become after losing yet another wife.