₊˚ʚ 🌱 Little Sunshines Au. Masterlist

Why is this so true?

meme by: @Inknopewetrust

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ — He holds you tightly in his arms, his milky seed dribbling out of you as he nuzzles into you.

Choso laid next to you, his strong arms wrapped around you with his head nestled against the back of your shoulder as his milky seed dribbled out of your ruined cunt. The two of you were cuddling after he'd fucked you so hard, so well, that you couldn't walk right. His breath was ragged, still catching up from the intense sex session the two of you had just enjoyed.

Your mind was in a haze. Your eyes were closed, but you couldn't bring yourself to drift off into slumber. You were so warm and safe, wrapped in his arms. You never wanted to move again, “Mn'Choso~” you called softly.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his voice ever so sweet like honey.

“I love-hah~!”

He squeezed you tightly, burying his face further into your back, “Love you so much,”gently thrusting his cock inside you once again to make sure his cum stayed deep inside you. His hips ground against yours, moving slowly and deeply inside of you as he tried to coax more cum out of himself to fill your womb, “please, I beg you, Kitten... Let me fill you again~”.

Your eyes rolled back as his thick cock hit all the right spots inside of you. It was so easy to let him take over your body and have his way with you.

It was so easy to say yes.

His hips snapped forward, slamming his cock against your cervix with a groan. His grip around you tightened, holding you like a lifeline. He had never known love before, never knew what it was like to have a warm body pressed against him.

He could never get enough of you, would never get enough of you. You were everything to him. He would gladly spend the rest of his life giving himself to you, making you feel good, worshipping your body.

You were so beautiful, so perfect.

So soft.

So warm.

So full of his cum.

So full of his cock.

He loved you.

He loved you so much.

And he’d never let you go~ ♡

heyyy!!! I just wanted to say I really love your work and this is my first time sending a request so sorry if it’s not very specific 😭💕

If you’re still doing requests, I was wondering if you could do a fem reader x Spencer Reid where it’s similar to your cryptic pregnancy one, except Spencer is at home with her when she’s in labour without realising, and she’s just in a lot of pain and it all of a sudden gets worse and she’s just in the bathroom shouting for Spencer, he comes in and eventually works out what’s going on, readers sort of in denial? Maybe the ambulance doesn’t get there in time so Spencer has to help her give birth? Lots of fluff and hurt/comfort :)

Also completely fine if your not comfortable doing it, but again really love your work and hope you have a great day 💕 :)

three's a family | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: cryptic pregnancy, traumatic birth, precipitous labor, hospitals, medical inaccuracy (its just me and google against the world), takes place after 9x7 "gatekeeper", surgery, near death experiences, periods, home birth word count: 3.16k a/n: anon i'll be so honest with u i wasn't sure if i was gonna write this but then i learned what precipitous labor was and i was like "i would not wish this on my worst enemy... i'm going to force it on y/n" BUT please keep in mind that there is a .000012 probability of this happening to you (i did the math) this is the wildest thing ive written to date i think

“I’m going to try a bath,” you murmured over to Spencer, wincing as you dragged yourself out of bed, walking at a turtle’s pace to the bathroom, hoping the warm water would soothe the cramps away.

Your period came and went as it pleased; it was just your luck that it decided to give you debilitating cramps on your one day off. Padding on the tile floor behind you, Spencer leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom, “I could run to the store and get a new heating pad.”

Sticking your hand under the tap to check the temperature, you plugged the drain once you found it to be satisfactory. You shook your head, “No, it’s fine.” Your original heating pad must’ve gotten lost somewhere in the depths of your storage closet, but you didn’t have the patience to look for it. You could manage just fine without it.

“Will you let me know if you need anything?” He asked, leaning forward to press a comforting kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down, watching as Spencer pointedly flicked the bathroom fan on – something you often forgot to do.

You lasted about thirty minutes in the bath, not only was the water beginning to grow lukewarm, but if anything, your cramps were getting worse while submerged in the water. Grunting, you reached over and tugged the plug from the drain, watching as the water drained, you managed to pull yourself to a squat before you felt stuck.

Aunt Flo really had it out for you this month.

Burying your face in your hands you accepted defeat and called out for Spencer, reaching up and trying to stand again, but only succeeding in knocking over several shampoo bottles. “Spence!” You tried again, white-knuckling the edge of the bathtub as you bowed your head. A creeping feeling that this wasn’t your period was beginning to rise.

You listened as your husband made his way up the stairs, turning the corner into your room, and opening the door to the ensuite. Moving quickly, Spencer dropped to a crouch in front of you, cupping your pained face in his hands, “I don’t think this is your period, angel.”

Clamping your lips together to prevent yourself from crying out, you simply nodded in response. How awful was it that you were going to die, naked, in your bathtub?

Spencer wiped tears away from under your eyes – you hadn’t even realized you started crying. “What does it feel like, darling? What else could it be?” He asked, voice urgent but gentle as he tried to stop you from panicking.

As you shook your head, you couldn’t focus on anything else besides your breathing as another pain rose up through you. “It’s like a cramp, but with more pressure,” you said, depending on the bathtub and Spencer to keep you upright as your legs shook beneath you. “Like something’s pushing on me, kind of like I have to shit.”

Reaching behind him, Spencer dug through one of the drawers in the bathroom vanity before retrieving the handheld mirror that you used when you cut his hair. Before you could ask what he was doing, he placed the mirror at the bottom of the tub, just beneath you. “I think you’re in labor,” he announced, breaking the news to you.

“There’s no– fuck,” your voice broke off as you dropped your head onto Spencer’s shoulder, breathing through what was apparently a contraction. “I’m not pregnant,” you insisted as your symptoms started to make sense. You had been in labor all morning.

Nodding to himself, Spencer quickly kissed your cheek before standing up and making sure you were stable before stepping to the side.

You frowned as you looked up at him, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t go far, opening the linen closet and piling towels into his arms, “I’m getting towels to put in the tub beneath you, and then I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“You want me to give birth in our bathtub?” You asked, furrowing your brows quizzically before letting out a low whine as another contraction hit.

Stopping what he was doing, Spencer dropped down to you, running the flat of his palm up and down your back as he gently reminded you to breathe. “Did you want to change positions?”

Immediately, you shook your head. You already had an insurmountable task ahead of you and you saw no reason to add to that task by trying to move. “This is fine. Squatting is good, right?”

Nodding assuredly, Spencer smoothed your hair away from your face, “Gravity can help the baby descend the birth canal, and some people even say that the position can increase the pelvic diameter.”

While you were currently less concerned with the diameter of your pelvis and more concerned with feeling like your body was being split open, you continued going through the motions as he called for an ambulance, trying to explain the situation to the dispatcher.

“Have you been timing your contractions?” Spencer asked, tilting his head at you curiously as the dispatcher spoke on the phone.

Releasing a groan, you gripped the ledge of the tub, “I didn’t know they were contractions!”

Relaying that information over the phone, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll take care of it.” He continued to reassure you, taking one look at your desperate expression before ending the call with the dispatcher.

He understood that you were vulnerable right now, and you didn’t want that broadcasted to a stranger on the phone. If you weren’t so preoccupied with remembering to breathe, you’d be more grateful. After a contraction ebbed away, Spencer stood up.

“I have to go unlock the door for the paramedics,” he told you, keeping a wary eye on you. “I’ll be right back,” he comforted you as he took one last look at you before tearing out of the bathroom.

In record speed, he returned to the bathroom as promised, “It’s bad,” you cried, the pressure on your pelvis becoming insufferable.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer studied your face before he spoke carefully, “I have to check your cervix.”

Despite his carefully chosen words, your lips still parted in shock, “You have to what?”

“I’ll use my hand to measure how dilated you are, and then… we’ll go from there,” he told you, nodding almost imperceptibly. At this point, you weren’t sure who he was trying to reassure – you or him. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly, “indefinitely.”

You bit down on your lip as you let Spencer check you, understanding entirely why people choose to get epidurals – this was horribly uncomfortable. “On the next contraction, you need to push, okay?”

For just a moment, your breathing faltered as your scared eyes met his, “Spence, wait,” you pleaded.

Smoothing your hair back, your husband did everything he could to comfort you, “What is it, love?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, voice cracking ever so slightly as tears flooded your lash line.

He leaned forward to gently kiss your lips before pulling away to press his forehead to yours, "I've got you. You're going to be fine. You're both going to be fine."

You could see his carotid pounding, and somehow the fact that he was secretly as scared as you was more comforting than the words that came from his mouth. As you pushed, you focused on everything that Spencer was saying instead of the pain. Don’t push for more than eight seconds. Remember to breathe. Your body will know what to do. I love you. I love you. I love you.

By the time Spencer was saying something about the head, your hearing had gone muffled. “You’re doing so well, baby,” you made out his voice and nodded dazedly. “You’re wonderful. I’m so proud of you – just a little more,” he cajoled.

Taking a moment to breathe, your ears and eyes focused as shaky breaths filled your lungs.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder as he comforted you, continuing to keep you upright.

You shook your head, sniffling as your eyes screwed shut, “You’re perfect. Don’t stop. Keep talking,” you begged, needing something to focus on other than the pain.

“There’s about a point zero four percent chance of you getting pregnant and not finding out until you’re in labor,” he told you, hoping that the information would help you wrap your head around what was happening to you. “One to three in one hundred people have a precipitous labor,” he continued to speak as you pushed, and you wondered what the odds of you squeezing his hand so hard that you did damage were.

Against your better judgment, you looked down to check your progress, “Holy fuck,” you said breathlessly. You weren’t entirely clueless, you knew that once you got past the shoulders the remaining pushes would be easier. You also found yourself grateful that Spencer knew what he was doing – this was, after all, the second baby he had delivered.

You bore down, determined to get the baby out while Spencer untangled your hands, bringing his own down to catch the baby. Out of breath, you panted heavily as you started to feel lightheaded. “Done,” Spencer said quickly, “it’s done. I have him.”

Carefully, Spencer held the baby along the length of his forearm, rubbing the tiny newborn’s back. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, and it dawned on you that the baby wasn’t crying.

At the realization, your legs finally gave out from beneath you, watching with wide eyes as Spencer tried to clear your son’s lungs. White hot tears streamed down your face as you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You took a gasping breath as you silently pleaded for a cry, “I didn’t know,” you sobbed, guilt building a pit in your stomach.

With bleary eyes, you looked on as the baby finally spluttered and let out a wail. “There you go,” Spencer cooed softly, his own voice stiff with emotion as he cradled the baby and handed him off to you.

You were still sobbing as you held the baby to your chest, “I’m so sorry,” you continued to babble, watching as Spencer briefly disappeared into the bedroom before returning with a blanket and wrapping it around the both of you. While holding the baby, your vision started to blur around the edges.

Watching you intently, Spencer cupped your face in his hands, “I love you.”

Nodding, your face crumpled before you responded, “I love you too.”

When the paramedics announced themselves, Spencer called out for them, not wanting to leave your side. The two of you focused your attention on the wriggling baby in your arms.

He was premature – too little to stay with you in the recovery room. The NICU doctor had estimated that he was born at approximately 32 weeks, meaning he’d likely need to spend a few weeks in intensive care. “I want to see him,” you said insistently, looking over as Spencer as he fussed over you.

“You just had abdominal surgery,” Spencer responded simply, as if that was meant to clarify everything for you. He continued fluffing your pillow, which wasn’t entirely productive considering you were lying on the pillow.

As it turned out, you had experienced what was called a precipitous birth, or a rapid birth. It tended to be dangerous, and the fact that you did it in your bathtub only heightened that danger. You reached your arm out for Spencer, “c’mere,” you muttered, trying to get him to stop fretting. “Did you listen to anything that the doctor just said?”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Lots of rest, no physical exertion, IV medication for now-“

“Did you hear the part where he said I was going to be okay?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him curiously, you watched as he took your hand in his and sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m going to be fine,” your voice was determined, you had a few small incisions on your abdomen from the surgery to repair a tear in your uterus. “Thank you for looking after me,” you whispered.

Your husband gently smoothed your hair back from your face, “I should’ve noticed it sooner.”

Using all of your strength, you squeezed his hand comfortingly, “You were incredible,” you assured him. “If it weren’t for you, neither of us would’ve made it.”

He shook his head, “Don’t say that.”

Raising your eyebrows, you cocked your head to the side, “It’s true. I couldn’t have done it on my own, I’m so, so thankful for you, my love.” 

You had passed out in the ambulance as a direct result of blood loss, so you were brought to a trauma bay as soon as you made it to the hospital. Once they were in the ER, the baby was taken to the NICU, leaving Spencer with a lot of decisions to make.

When you woke up in the recovery room, the first thing you did was ask about the baby.

Spencer, of course, had been up to see him. The nurses claimed he seemed like a fighter, and Spencer knew the survival odds of a 32-weeker, so he turned his attention to you. Every other option had already failed, so the next option was a laparoscopy. Your husband admitted that while it seemed extreme, the very last choice was a hysterectomy, and he didn’t want to make that decision.

Furrowing your brows, “When can I see the baby?” You asked, not entirely sure how to refer to the infant just yet. It wasn’t until then that you realized you needed to name him at some point – your son.

“Once your blood pressure goes up,” Spencer told you with an authoritative tone. “You lost a lot of blood in the ambulance, but the blood transfusions will bring your blood pressure back up.”

Tilting your head to the side, you glared at your husband, “And is this rule from a doctor with a medical degree or a doctor whose name is on my marriage certificate?”

In response, Spencer shrugged, sitting in the beige armchair at the side of your bed, “That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

You rolled your eyes dismissively, “Will you go see him?”

He leaned over the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his. “I can, will you be alright on your own?”

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you squeezed his hand affectionately, “I just don’t want him to be alone.” You whispered as tears pricked your eyes, you took your free hand and waved at your face, “god, what’s wrong with me?”

“A sudden drop of estrogen and progesterone immediately following birth causes mood swings. Nothing is wrong with you, your body is acting naturally,” Spencer explained patiently, dropping a gentle kiss on your lips.

You sighed before melting back into your pillows, “At least something about this feels natural,” you responded. Your brain felt like a spinning top, while your body felt like you were being weighed down by an elephant in a commercial for COPD medication.

The fact that the NICU nurse informed you that your son had a ninety-five percent chance of living a completely normal life did nothing to calm your nerves. He’d have to stay in the NICU for a few weeks and you tried to convince yourself that the extra time to prepare for him to come home would be good for you, but the idea of leaving him alone at the hospital – save for a small army of doctors and nurses – put a pit of dread in your chest.

Spencer had the forethought to warn you about the tubes and wires that he was hooked up to, ranging from oxygen to a feeding tube. “He’s been undergoing red light therapy to be treated for jaundice, but you can hold him for a while if you want to,” the nurse told you, leading the both of you through the NICU as Spencer steered your wheelchair through the hospital.

Your breathing hitched when you finally saw him, this tiny stowaway that had been growing inside of you for the last several months, and he was just so little. While you were still in your own room, you had convinced yourself that you’d hold him, but now you weren’t so convinced.

According to the sign in his room, he weighed three pounds and ten ounces and was sixteen inches long. He was sound asleep in an incubator, a small hat on top of his head, “Spence,” you breathed.

Behind you, your husband placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I know.”

“Did you want to hold him?” The nurse asked you gently, looking over at one of the machines that he was hooked up to.

Genuinely, you didn’t know. “Is… is that okay?” You asked, wiping your sweaty palms on the blanket draped across your legs.

The nurse gave you a knowing look, “Even better than okay, it’ll be good for him to have that kind of contact from both of his parents.”

Frowning, you watched as it took two nurses to break him out of his acrylic prison before they carefully placed him on your chest, making sure you were okay before they stepped back. Your movements were stiff at first, you had never held a baby this small before, but you eventually remembered to breathe and gently cooed at the baby in your arms.

Spencer crouched down next to you and started to ask the nurse a bunch of questions that he had likely been holding in for hours, but you just kept your eyes on the sleeping baby. He was too small to open his eyes, but everyone assured you that he’d get there.

The nurse stepped out to give you some privacy, leaving the door open just in case you needed something, “This doesn’t seem quite as difficult while I’m holding him.” You knew there was a steep learning curve ahead, but with a newborn on your chest, the pit in your heart dissipated.

“That’s called oxytocin,” Spencer said, sitting in a chair, eyes fixated on the infant in your arms.

Humming, you skimmed the pad of your thumb across your son’s tiny back, “He looks like you,” you observed quietly, they had the same nose.

Your husband smiled softly, “You can’t possibly tell which parent he takes after yet,” he informed you.

“And yet, I know he looks like you,” you insisted softly, and Spencer didn’t push back. “You look like your daddy,” you whispered to the baby, “he was the first one to hold you, you know?” You looked over at Spencer, “he’s been my superhero for four years, and now he gets to be yours too.”

HEARTBEAT

summary you and jason's casual hook ups grew into three tiny humans that look a hell of a lot like him.

word count 2.9k

the first time you told jason you were pregnant, it was in the dim glow of your bathroom, hands trembling as you held out the test. the stark + on the stick felt like it was branding itself into your brain, your breath coming shallow as you tried to process what this meant—what this changed.

jason had been standing in the doorway, shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair a mess from sleep. you had woken him up when you bolted out of bed to take the test, too anxious to wait another second. he had followed, rubbing his eyes, muttering a groggy, “babe, what the hell—?” but when he saw you frozen there, test in hand, he didn’t need to ask. his whole body went still, the teasing dying on his lips as his eyes flickered between your face and the test.

neither of you had planned for jude. hell, you weren’t even technically together. what you had was easy—casual. a thing with no strings, no expectations. but now?

now there was no ignoring the weight in the air.

jason’s throat bobbed as he stepped forward, his hand brushing against yours before carefully taking the test from your fingers. he stared down at it, a muscle in his jaw twitching, and you braced yourself for—what, exactly? for him to freak out? for him to leave? for him to do the only thing he’d ever been taught to do and run?

but then he looked up at you—really looked at you. and what you saw in his eyes wasn’t panic, wasn’t regret. it was raw and unspoken, something deep and certain. and in that moment, you knew—neither of you would run from this.

somewhere along the way, between the nerves and the chaos, between doctor’s appointments where jason held your hand and whispered snarky commentary about the ultrasound tech (“babe, i’m pretty sure they’re just making up measurements at this point—no way her head’s that big”), between late nights where he passed out on your couch after spending hours assembling baby furniture (“if i have to put together one more goddamn crib rail, i swear to—”), between shopping for tiny onesies that made him laugh—daddy’s little sidekick, future vigilante, property of the batfamily—and bickering over baby names (“we’re not naming her that, jason.” “sofia is a good name, babe.” “sofia falcone, jason.” “...fair point.”), the two of you became something more.

it wasn’t something either of you sat down and talked about. there was no defining moment where jason said, i love you or where you asked him to stay. but he did stay. more and more often. he was there every step of the way—hands steady on your waist when your balance wobbled, lips pressed against your stomach in the middle of the night when he thought you were asleep.

by the time jude was born, there was no more pretending.

she came wailing into the world at 2:37 am, her tiny fists curled tight, her face scrunched in protest at the audacity of being born. you were exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open, but jason—jason looked at her like she was the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

"she’s perfect," he murmured, voice thick, eyes shining in the dim hospital light. his hand, rough and scarred from a lifetime of fighting, cradled her impossibly gently as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

and in that moment, as he gazed down at your daughter, his daughter, you knew— you were his. and he was yours.

a year later, you found yourself in almost the exact same spot—bathroom light buzzing faintly, pregnancy test clutched in your hands. only this time, the panic wasn’t there. this time, you knew.

jason walked in, still toweling off from his shower, his hair damp and messy. he barely got a glance at your face before his gaze dropped to the test in your hands. his lips parted slightly, processing. then, slowly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"no shit."

your only response was a breathless laugh, nodding as you turned the test toward him. positive.

jason ran a hand through his wet hair, exhaling sharply before he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. then, without another word, he left the bathroom.

"jason—?" you blinked, confused, before chasing after him—only to find him already scooping up jude from her playpen.

"c’mere, sweetheart," he murmured, settling the one-year-old easily onto his hip as she clapped her chubby hands against his cheeks. he turned back to you then, mischief dancing in his eyes as he lifted jude higher.

"guess someone’s getting a sibling, huh, jude?" his voice was soft, warm, and he booped her tiny nose with the tip of his finger.

jude squealed in delight, kicking her feet excitedly, oblivious to the weight of the moment. jason laughed, a full, genuine laugh that filled the apartment, and all you could do was shake your head, the emotion in your chest bubbling over into laughter of your own.

this time, there was no fear—just excitement.

colby was born nine months later, red-faced and screaming, but jason swore up and down that she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

"she’s so damn tiny," he marveled, cradling her carefully in his arms, as if she might shatter.

you, exhausted but exhilarated, watched as he gently ran a thumb over the wisps of dark hair on her head. he looked different this time—less shocked than he had been with jude, more sure of himself. comfortable.

he had been a good dad with jude, but with colby, he was something else entirely.

the first time he held both of them together, jude pressing sloppy kisses to colby’s soft forehead while jason kept a steady hand on her back, something in your chest clenched. you had fallen for jason during your first pregnancy, but now, watching him with your girls, you realized something deeper—he was meant for this. for fatherhood. for this life with you.

and when he caught you staring, one arm wrapped around jude and the other securely holding colby, he only smirked.

"what? you wanna go for three?"

you had rolled your eyes, laughing, "let’s survive two first, todd."

the third time, it wasn’t planned—not really.

you and jason had settled into parenthood in a way neither of you had expected. it had been messy, chaotic, and full of sleepless nights, but it had also been good. damn good. jason, despite his gruff exterior, had turned out to be the kind of dad who let the girls paint his nails, who read them stories in funny voices, who carried them on his shoulders like they were royalty. he loved being a dad—he loved them.

but three? a third baby? you hadn’t seen that coming.

jason had been too busy wrestling a three-year-old jude and a two-year-old colby into their clothes for a trip to grandpa bruce’s house to notice how quiet you’d been.

"c’mon, guys, work with me here—jude, put your arm through the hole, not your head—colby, stop wiggling!" he groaned, exasperated as the girls shrieked with laughter, making a game out of escaping him.

jude was giggling so hard she nearly toppled over, using her half-put-on sweater as a cape as she ran circles around the living room. colby, ever her partner in crime, had already ditched her pants, throwing them over her head like some kind of victorious gladiator.

jason sighed, shaking his head as he rubbed a hand down his face. "they get this from you, y’know!"

he barely managed to get colby’s shirt over her head before they both took off, giggling as they ran toward your shared bedroom.

"hey—where do you think you little gremlins are going?!" jason called after them, but they were already gone, their tiny feet thudding against the hardwood. he groaned, pushing himself up from his crouched position, rolling his shoulders as he followed after them. "babe, i need backup—these two are insane today."

but when he stepped into the room after them, ready to tag you in, he froze.

you were sitting on the edge of the bed, hands gripping something so tightly your knuckles were white. your face was pale, like you’d just seen a ghost.

jude and colby, still shrieking with laughter, clambered onto the bed, bouncing excitedly. but jason barely registered them.

"hey… what’s wrong?" his voice had lost its teasing edge, turning careful, concerned.

you finally looked up at him, and the moment your eyes met his, his stomach dropped.

you held out the pregnancy test with shaky fingers.

positive.

jason blinked, lips parting as his brain caught up. his chest felt tight, his pulse thudding in his ears. you were pregnant. again.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the only sounds in the room were the distant hum of the city outside and the occasional giggle from the two tiny troublemakers on the bed. a thousand things must have been running through your mind, but jason—jason just looked at you.

then, out of nowhere, he let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head.

"jesus, babe—" he ran a hand over his face, then down to his mouth, like he was trying to hold back a grin.

before you could react, he stepped forward, grabbed you by the waist, and lifted you clean off the bed, spinning you around.

"jason!" you yelped, gripping onto his shoulders, heart hammering.

"guess we're just a little too good at baby making, huh?" he teased, laughter bubbling up in his chest.

jude and colby, not understanding what was happening but thrilled at the excitement, started clapping and cheering, tiny fists pumping in the air.

"do it again, daddy!" jude giggled.

colby, eyes wide with mischief, added, "spin me next!"

jason only laughed harder, finally setting you back down, his hands lingering at your waist. his face was flushed, eyes bright—not with fear, not with doubt, but with something softer. something real.

he pressed his forehead against yours, breath warm against your lips as his voice dropped, just for you.

"three, huh?" he exhaled, grinning, voice softer now. "looks like we’re really doing this."

your hands were still trembling, but the way he was looking at you—like he already loved this baby just as much as the other two—settled something deep in your chest.

"yeah," you whispered. "we are."

when mia came into the world 9 months later, she was loud, stubborn, and determined to make an entrance—just like her dad.

your pregnancy with her had been different from the start. harder. more exhausting. you’d brushed it off at first, thinking it was just because you were chasing around a three-year-old and a two-year-old while growing another tiny human. but as the months passed, it became clear that this time, things weren’t going to be as smooth as they had been with jude and colby.

you were further along than you should’ve been when the contractions started. too early. too soon.

jason had been the one to notice something was off first. you’d been brushing off the discomfort all day, pretending the tightness in your belly wasn’t getting worse, that the nagging ache in your lower back wasn’t making it harder to move. but jason knew you—he knew when you were in pain, even when you tried to hide it.

"babe." his voice had that sharp edge of concern when he found you gripping the kitchen counter, your breathing just a little too uneven. his hands were on you in an instant, steady and firm. "what’s going on?"

"it’s fine," you lied, wincing as another wave of pain rolled through you. "i think i just overdid it today."

jason didn’t believe that for a second. his jaw clenched, and without another word, he grabbed the keys.

"we’re going to the hospital."

by the time you got there, everything happened fast. too fast.

the nurses barely had time to get you settled before things took a turn. the pain sharpened, and suddenly, the steady rhythm of the baby's heartbeat on the monitor wasn’t so steady anymore. there were voices, urgent but calm, doctors moving around you in a blur. you barely had time to register what was happening before a nurse leaned down, her voice gentle but firm.

"we need to get your baby out now."

jason’s grip on your hand tightened, his thumb brushing frantically over your knuckles as you looked up at him, fear creeping into your chest.

"it’s gonna be okay," he promised, his voice steady even though you could see the panic in his eyes. he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "i swear, baby, it’s gonna be okay."

you barely got the chance to nod before they were wheeling you away.

jason wasn’t allowed into the operating room at first, and that nearly sent him into a rage. he fought it, argued, cussed out more than one doctor, but in the end, he was forced to stand just outside as they prepped you for the emergency c-section. the longest minutes of his goddamn life.

when they finally let him in, you were already on the table, barely able to keep your eyes open. jason sat beside you, one hand gripping yours, the other stroking your hair back as he whispered, "you’re doing so good, baby. i’m right here. i’m not going anywhere."

and then—finally—after what felt like a lifetime, a sharp, furious cry filled the room.

mia.

jason let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his head dropping against your shoulder as a shaky laugh escaped him. "that’s our girl," he murmured, voice thick with relief.

you barely had the strength to lift your head, but when they placed her against your chest, tiny and red-faced and still wailing, tears slipped down your cheeks.

jason had never looked at anyone the way he looked at you in that moment. like you were his whole world. like he had never loved you more than he did right then.

"you scared the shit outta me," he muttered, voice rough, pressing a kiss against your temple. "but you did it. you did so good, baby."

mia settled against you, her cries softening as she nuzzled into your warmth. jason reached out, brushing a fingertip over her tiny, delicate hand. she grabbed onto him instantly, her little fingers curling tight around his.

that was it. jason was done for.

"yeah, okay," he whispered, voice cracking as he smiled down at her. "i guess you were worth the heart attack, kid."

now, your home is chaos—but the kind of chaos you wouldn’t trade for anything.

laughter bounces off the kitchen walls, mixing with the smell of vanilla and the distant hum of the radio playing some old rock song jason swears he’s not singing along to. flour dusts the counter, smudged across tiny hands and jason’s cheek, and the entire room looks like a sugar-fueled war zone.

jason stands in the middle of it all, colby perched proudly on his shoulders with her little fingers tangled in his hair, directing him like she’s remy from ratatouille. her giggles ring out as she yanks at his dark strands, her feet drumming lightly against his chest.

"mix faster, daddy! like this!" she tugs his head forward, making his hands jerk as he stirs the batter, and jason barks out a laugh, nearly dropping the bowl.

"i swear, you’re gonna make me bald before i hit forty," he grumbles, but there’s nothing but love in his voice, his grin wide and unbothered.

below him, mia is practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing on her toes so hard she might launch herself into orbit.

"my turn next!" she shouts, little fists clenched in determination.

jason groans, feigning exhaustion. "one tiny dictator at a time, kid—"

but then, his eyes dart to the side, and his expression shifts.

"jude, do not—"

too late.

jude, standing at the counter with an air of absolute authority, dumps a heaping handful of funfetti straight into the bowl. the colors scatter like confetti over a parade, sinking into the batter as she watches with a critical eye.

"it didn’t look like enough," she defends, completely serious, like she’s just saved the entire operation from disaster.

jason lets out a dramatic sigh, tipping his head back against colby’s hold. "of course it didn’t."

and then he looks over at you, catching your eye with that soft, love-struck expression that still makes your heart stutter after all these years.

that look—the one he’s given you since the moment you told him about jude. the one that never faded, not through three pregnancies, sleepless nights, or the absolute circus of raising three daughters together. it’s the same as it’s always been.

you shake your head, unable to fight your own smile as you cross the room, scooping mia up into your arms before tossing her onto your shoulders. her delighted squeal echoes through the kitchen as she clings to your head, fingers gripping at your hair.

"alright, chef mia, you’re up next."

jason watches you, still smiling, still in love, and the warmth in his gaze is enough to make your chest ache.

the four of you stand there—him with colby in his hair, you with mia on your shoulders, and jude taking her role as funfetti overlord way too seriously. the mess, the noise, the laughter—it’s everything.

and as jason leans over, pressing a batter-dusted kiss to your cheek, you know—this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

breezy's notes: everyone is getting babies bc i have HORRENDOUS baby fever and refuse to procreate with the roaches in the world today. instead i give jason 3 daughters bc he's a girl dad in my head 🙂‍↕️ this took so long not bc i couldn't write, no bc i am a pain in the ass about the graphics and couldn't figure out a title.

tags ⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭: @deansbeer @daylighted @bluemerakis @ultravi0lence14 @beausling @jensenacklesballsack @starzify @cowboysandcigarettes @honeyryewhiskey @bejeweledinterludes @unfortunate-brat @deanswidow @novarosewood @cosmicfireheart @theendofthematerialgworl @wassup-summer @cowboysandcigarettes @arkhamsbrat @stereotypicalbarbie @buckturd @bookdaddysworld @treeteaofversailles

What Leg Is it Down .ᐟ

𝜗𝜚: satoru, suguru, nanami, choso, ino, toji,

note: asking them what leg is their dick/cock down !

warnings: cursing, sexual, kms joke in gojo’s, crack, f!reader

I BLOCK MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS

The SECOND I read “no happy ending” or “ambiguous ending” I am SCROLLING!!

YOU NEED TO MAKE MORE DAD!SUKUNA😭 It’s just soo good!!!, I’m literally obsessed with Dad!sukuna🫶🏻

lol here’s a little snippet to start the day, in other words I had a domestic dream 🥺🤍

Jujutsu Teacher Sukuna AU

Somewhere in another time line Sukuna became a not so dedicated teacher at Jujutsu high school still after having turned himself into a curse, even 1000 years he landed a spot on the higher up’s board it hilarious when they try to execute someone and he completely disagrees.

They learned quickly is Sukuna disapproves of their actions agree with arrimen Sukuna. Don’t go behind his back and try to do it either. He’s not afraid to kill everyone and replace the entire board of Higher Ups

Then one year he met you, you came in from the sister school to be teacher. Usually he tried not to mess with staff they only last so long anyways. But maybe it was that time he saw you banging your head in the drink machine because you used your last bills to buy a drink and it got stuck. Or maybe it was that time Gojo and Toji surprisingly decided to team up against you and you managed to hold your own.

It was when YOU started to pursUE HIM he became really intrigued. At first he became annoyed because not to far behind the corner he could hear the snickering and “Oh she’s really doing it!” “She’s a brave woman to try and flirt with him…” “What are you idiots do- oh, this could be interesting.” “shhh, I can’t hear what he’s saying!”

You didn’t notice when he flicked his wrist, but you did hear your coworkers panic and the rushed steps. Looking back confused you were more confused when you looked back at Sukuna and he was leaning forward getting face to face with you before squishing your face in one of his hands. “You do understand you proud Jujutsu Sorcerers don’t live very long, so give me one good reason you want my attention.”

You wanted to badly to look away from those demanding red eyes, to pull away and breath the God given air, instead here you were getting dazed off his musk and cologne. Feeling his warm hand squish your face, nails lightly pressing against your skin. Smash- swallowing you had one chance to do this right. Don’t stutter, don’t fear, breath, don’t rush, don’t show him WEAKNESS.

“I J- ahem” ah.. I messed up already, “Wait let me restart- Okay I’m ready, I’m not gonna stand here and promise happiness smiles and endless love, praise and worship. I’m not gonna lie to your face and tell you everything you want to hear and pretend it’s all sunshine and rainbows. When I go on a mission I’m not gonna say I promise to always come back that would be a fools move. But at least in my last moments I’d have to privilege to remember you and all those wise words you used to tell me like. “Dumbass that’s why you keep more than two dollars in your wallet.” Or “Living to please others and dying with regrets if no helping everyone is vain, Live to please yourself at least in your final moments you’ll have some sense of fulfillment.” So like it or not I’m here to please myself if you say No and tell me to fuck off and send me on my way. I won’t regret having asking. If you say yes, well I won’t lie I wouldn’t really know what to do or say I came in expected to be rejected and humbled.” Finally your eyes left his, you were oblivious to stare he had. He wasn’t completely amused but he wasn’t bored of your words either. “Look at me.” You did, “you didn’t bore me entirely with your little … speech so I’ll give you one opportunity. Sunday, I have an early mission, meet me here at 4 in the morning and I’ll tell you with me. After I finish you can have the rest of my day or until I get bored.”

He didn’t get bored… it turned out you amused him so much more when you weren’t surrounded be suits.

And that’s how you ended up here.

“Yuji don’t say something stupid love can’t protect anyone.” Nobara rolled her eyes, “Yuh huh, your words can’t hurt me because my mom and dad’s love protects me.” He puffed his chest out crossing his arms and smiling with closed eyes, missing the book Nobara was throwing at him. A solid sound was made, Yuji was wide eyed, the all to familiar wrist holding the heavy book just in front of his face, “Careful Miss.Kugisaki it’d be a shame if you caught extra missions for disabling another student from completing his own.” Yuji smiled proudly, “See, protected.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, “Get to class Fushiguro was on your ass last time for being late to class.” He nodded his head at Yuji who just smiled sheepishly rubbing the back of his head, “Alright.” Of course the Trio ran past you greeting you with “Hi Mrs.Sukuna!” Good morning Mom!” “Morning Y/n Senpai.” You watched them all keep running until your husband stood next to you offering you the Coffee Cup he had been drinking. You were distracted by one thing “Why do you have our photo album?” Sukuna felt his eye twitch, “Damn brat.” Was all he mumbled tucking it under his shoulder, “Your son believes your love protects him.”

You laughed, “OUR son believes OUR love for him protects him. Considering your holding that book Im assuming Kugisaki tried to throw it at him or you were reminiscing on that time you had to save them from a Special Grade ambush and when you had to carry them all out Yuji was sniffling how he knew he could count on you to be there for him.”

He looked away, “Higher ups are lucky I only wiped out half of them.” You rested your head on his shoulder pulling the album from him. “Aaww this is Yuji’s baby album” you cooed seeing the picture of Sukuna holding Yuji next to a bouquet of “It’s a Boy!” Balloons. In the background you could see the blur of Geto smacking Gojo on the back of the head.

Sukuna is secure as a man and father 🥹

So it’s not a surprise to you when you come home late from the school and find true form Sukuna threatening to break the sofa under his weight coddling 15yo Yuji 🥹

As much of a brute people have him to be, Yuji might be his only son, and he might call him brat and roll his eyes a lot. But he’d be damned if he were truly a bad dad. In a whispered conversation he told you about everything that happened on Yuji’s mission. How the mission was purposely miss graded and they basically walked into a special grade curses domain. Sukuna had no doubt in his mind that if wouldn’t have been the one over seeing their mission the first years wouldn’t have walked back out alive.

Yuji was alright the entire ride but when he got home he broke down crying, speechless gasping for air. That’s when Sukuna pick him up carrying him over the sofa, coddling Yuji wasn’t as easy now that they were almost the same height, so he turned to his true form. And let Yuji cry, scream and hold onto him. Rubbing his back, holding his head against his shoulder, just talking to him to comfort him. “Do you remember that time we went to the park, and you wondered off to far chasing a duck.” Yuji nodded still sniffling, “Your mom was scared shitless when she couldn’t find you.” He laughed and Yuji laughed lightly, “y.. yeah I remember I jumped into the pond and then you and mom started screaming and then jumped in…” sukuna laughed louder, “Y/n was so mad but she couldn’t stay mad when she saw you with that little duck.” He patted Yuji’s back resting his chin on his head. Soon Yuji fell asleep.

It led you to find him this state. You asked him to go lay him in his bed, he did. He came to help you make some comfort food, it was hilarious when you asked if he could use dismantle on vegetables and it turned out he could. Now over the table in the wall is a sign that says “Malevolent Kitchen.”

The house that night was filled with the soft sounds of cooking, you and your husband talking about whatever came to mind. The Golden pot boiling with whatever broth you made. Sukuna was fighting the rice cooker while you tempura fried some shrimp and rolled some noodles to cook

It was well past 9 when you heard Yuji coming, both of you turning to see him walking yawning and rubbing his eyes. Bare feet padding along the kitchen floor. “Come sit down Yu you gotta be hungry.” you fixed him a large bowl of noodles with Tempura shrimp. On the side were the massive Onigiri Sukuna had made, he even tried to use the nori stamp to put little faces on them. More often than not they have 4 little crooked eyes that looked mad but it squeezed your heart how he laughed to himself saying “Yuji’s going to love these.”

He did, you watched as he bit into it rice sticking to his face. “These are good dad what did you fill them with?” “Nitamago we forgot to pack em for lunch so.. improvise I guess.” You both sat down with Yuji talking and eating. Just enjoying the free time you had together before Sukuna would go commit another crime against the higher ups 🤍🤍

Yeah 🥹

Im here 10-1 in the morning 🤍 It took all day to type this out 😭😭

Also a lot of my co workers walked out today 🥹 it was rough

Tag List: @sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare

hear me out, what if odysseus and penelope instead of getting married of love they did it because it was their duty and they trusted each other as friends, they made an heir, telemachus, and that was it. of course they loved each other but not in a romantic way.

when the war starts one of the soldiers going with him is yn, a childhood friend who he still loves but never told her.

what would happen with their friendship/growing relationship? across the years.

I believe that after 'monster' he would become really overprotective of yn, and in 'love in paradise' he would ascend into another level of codependency with her.

YESSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!

WARNINGS: FLUFF, NEEDINESS, ALMOST UNHEALTHY CODEPENDENCY ON BOTH PARTS, LIGHT ALLUSION TO SMUT,

Mine, all mine.

Y/n pov

~Morning, sleepyhead You've been resting for a while I swore that you were dead When you washed up on my isle Did you know you talk in your sleep? Tell me, though, who's she?~

"She's y/n, she's my... she's mine."

My eyes fluttered open, and I coughed up bit of seawater.

"Odysseus..." I mumbled softly. Immediately, he was by my side, pulling me into his side. I poked my head over his shoulder and found a jealous looking woman who came over and grabbed Odysseus, pulling him away.

~Anyways, I've got all you could want here All you could need here Just you and me, my dear, my love for life Soon, into bed we'll climb and spend our time~

"I'm not your man." Ody shook her off and started walking back to me.

~I'm what you want here I'm what you need here Just you and me, my love in paradise Now 'til the end of time From here on out, you're mine, all mine~ She purred swinging in front of him, blocking me out as she practically drapped herself over him. My captain shoved her off in a fury.

"Hell no, I could kill you where you stand

I'm no pet, I'm a taken man!"

~Oh handsome, you may try But last I checked, goddesses can't die.~

"I don't care! I can try! I don't want you, I want her!" Odysseus growled, grabbing my arm and practically dragging me off to a more secluded part of the island.

After everything that had happened, it was no surprise that Odysseus clung to the last reminder of home, but he certainly went through hell and back to make sure it was me, even sacrificing Eurylochus, his brother-in-law, to keep me. He had always been protective of me, but after the Underworld, he had changed, ruthless, cruel, but not with me, never with me. I, on he other hand, had been dependant on him since we were children. My father was the young prince's teacher and had allowed me to sit in on some of the lessons. we'd been inseparable ever since, but neither of us had realized just how deep that bond went until after we went to war. Since then, it had gotten worse... better... I wasn't sure. But we spent every night together, some nights it was just to hold each other, other nights we needed more, more intimacy, more physical comfort... more.

So here, on this island, with a desperate goddess, his neediness increased tenfold. As soon as we were out of sight, Odysseus buried his face against my neck, holding me against his chest with a strength that no mortal should possess.

"Ody..." I whisper, carding my fingers through his hair. He nudged against the crook of my neck.

"We're gonna get off this island." He purred, kissing my shoulder. I nodded. "And in the meantime... you're all I need. Mine, all mine."

not this time .ᐟ

wherein both the jjk men and boys thought it was yet another one of your pranks but it turned out to be real (+todo slander just bc😭)

includes: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna, yuji, megumi, yuta and toge

Fully masked Invincible is the sweetest variant you've met. Sure, he's killed people, but everyone makes mistakes, and the way he says, ' I'm sorry for every little thing,' is a lot cuter in your books. A true textbook bottom cutie, but he argues he can top for real if given a chance.

he saves you from the civilian casualties that one of the other variants created. he bridal style carries you through the clouds and profusely apologizes when you're shaking in his arms from being too cold and being held so tight in his arms. he even apologizes for not even being your mark grayson, you're not his but he can't help but touch you like you really are his.

when the two of you are settled on the city's outskirts, and safe from the death and screams. he cups your face in his gloved hands, staring at you from his goggles. he's missed you. he's missed the two most important women in his life. he just needs to get his mom now and take all three of you home. his body is ragged and high-strung under the pads of your fingers, and he halfway chokes on a sob when you don't hold any malice in your pretty gaze when you look at him.

he's always been such a tender lover, sweet on the lips and heavenly in the bedroom; a true fallen angel that never chose a side on the day of reckoning in heaven.

the third time he apologizes is for the way he kisses you when he tugs the mask halfway over his nose and smashes your mouths together just because he can't stand the silence between you two. he tastes like desperation and yearning. Perhaps the tiniest bit of sin when his teeth latch on your bottom lip and suck it into his mouth so he can hear you sigh openly.

However, you don't mind. his sorries escalate from his half-chubbed boner rubbing against your hip to saying sorry for how you writhe and tense on soft patchy grass when his thick dick stretches you out in ways that feel like you're being torn in two. He isn't sorry for cumming too quickly, because he makes up for it in his pussy eating skills later on.