#he'd look so pretty with it dripping down his chin and over his neck and how it would pool in that little dip of his collarbone nnnnnnggggh

[goldeunoias]

Hoonie teaches you what happens if you make bad remarks about yourself....(not proofread)

*********************************************

"See angel, don't you look so pretty?" Sunghoon purred softly in your ear, pulling down the straps of the pretty lingerie he'd bought for you.

You were sitting against his chest facing the full-length mirror, your legs forcefully held open by his own. You'd made the "mistake" of making negative remarks about your body in front of him, and Sunghoon wasn't having any of it, as shown by your current predicament.

"H-hoonie please," you whimpered out in embarrassment, face burning as Sunghoon spread the lips of your core. A string of curses left him as he watched you squirm and clench around nothing, sticky droplets of arousal leaking from your hole.

"I don't think you're looking properly. Look."

Sunghoon's voice had a bit more bite to it and he turned your chin towards the mirror and firmly held it in place, wanting you to take note of how gorgeous you looked with your silk camisole pulled down and your panties slipped to the side.

"Play with your nipples angel, watch how pretty they get as they harden," he cooed against your ear.

Bashfully you did so and shook slightly as you tugged on them harshly the way he would, your eyes flickering back and forth between your turned-on form and Sungoon's rosy cheeks.

"I think it's so cute how your tummy rises every time you touch them angel. Do you think it's from me playing with them that they've become so sensitive?" Sunghoon remarked, slithering his hand down to tug on a pert nipple himself. You gripped down on his wrist and gasped out his name, Sunghoon clucking his tongue in warning.

"Keep your eyes focused on yourself pretty baby, watch how cute your cunt looks taking a finger," he whispered. You watched through half-lidded eyes as Sunghoon slid his middle finger inside, curling his finger in the spot he had memorized.

"Sunghoon ohmygod," you rasped out as his thumb rubbed over your swollen clit, liquid now starting to drip from his hand as he languidly fingered you.

"You look fucking beautiful right now," Sunghoon groaned into your shoulder, sliding another digit and fingering you with a quicker pace.

You couldn't stop yourself from rutting into his hand desperately, Sunghoon adding to the pleasure as he drug his teeth up your neck before licking the shell of your ear.

"C'mon angel don't miss the show your pussy is putting on. You're leaking all over the place, how cute," he couldn't help but taunt.

"Don't you think you look beautiful like this?" Sunghoon inquired, removing his fingers to messily start rubbing your clit. The sensation was just as intense as his fingers and you tried to squirm away from the intense pleasure, Sunghoon's grip on you tightening.

"Answer my question pretty," he cooed, kissing your cheek as you stared at him in the mirror.

"Y-yes Ilookpretty," you slurred out, watching as your lower belly tightened up at the sensation he was giving you.

"We're never gonna say we're not pretty again right?" He pushed, sliding his two digits back in to stimulate the spot where your fingers couldn't reach.

"Mhmm, y-yes I won't," you panted out, feeling sweat form across your hairline.

"Promise?" he pouted, pulling out his fingers and rubbing your clit through your folds once more. The noises coming from your core made your face burn as it was completely soaked in syrupy arousal, the noises in the room reflecting such.

"I promisesunghnoon."

"Mmm, that's my angel."

A moan ripped through your chest as the knot in your lower belly snapped, Sunghoon watching in utter delight as liquid gushed from your core.

"thatta girl, take your time angel, such a pretty baby," Sunghoon cooed as he rode you through your high, your legs shaking as you lay in an afterglow of euphoria.

"Now say it with me: I'll always be your pretty angel," he cooed softly, peppering your face with warm kisses. You let out a tired giggle and nodded, turning around to face him completely.

"I'll always be your pretty angel."

*********************************************

hmmm is this even worth posting IDK maybe someone out there will like it asdfasdf

[osachiyo]

༅ "wrap your legs around my waist" ༄ | beast!dazai

.pairing ➺ beast!dazai x assistant!reader

.notes ➺ n/sfw content (mdni), fem!reader, cockwarming, office sex (if you see a pattern here no u don't), praise, name calling (slut, whore etc)

not proofread throughly don't come at me lovelies 🙏🏽

➺ event details & m.list

"be a good girl and sit pretty f'me," dazai whispered, thumb circling your pretty clit as his cock was nestled deep inside you. you felt borderline delirious, being impaled on his cock without any movement− it was so, so cruel of him.

"samu... wanna move s'bad," you sniffed, pretty pink nails clawing at his crisp button up as you tried your very best not to grind down further. "shh, I know baby, I know. must be so hard for a slut like you huh?" he tilted your chin upwards to look at him, heart squeezing at the little tears clinging to your lashline. god, how he loved seeing you cry. only for this though− if anyone even thought about making you, his darling, cry− they wouldn't see the light of day again granted.

"just a few more moments, 'kay? i'm almost done, pretty," he kissed the top of your head before going back to his paperwork, fingers still playing with that cute little clit of yours and you could only sit there and take it. little whimpers and soft moans came out of your mouth everytime he shifted a little− you couldn't tell if he was doing this on purpose or not. either way, it drove you insane.

you weren't the only one being affected by this though, osamu would hiss out a curse whenever you clamped down too tightly around him, your slick dripping down his cock to his balls− completely ruining his trousers. he was resisting the urge to just bend you over his desk and fuck you stupid on his cock and he knew that's exactly what you needed− but he had to be patient. had to resist your sweet cunt clenching and unclenching around his length. you swear you could feel him throb inside of you, the feeling making butterflies erupt in your tummy.

after a few moments, you heard the soft click of the pen and osamu's slightly strained voice, "done." one moment you're cockwarming your boyf− boss, and the next moment you're being hoisted up and slammed against the wall, osamu's hushed voice hitting your ears, "wrap your legs around my waist, need to fuck you now." and you complied− jumping as he picks you up, your thighs separated by his torso while he kisses you feverishly. his teeth tugged on your bottom lip and you moaned softly, letting him in your mouth as he suckled on your tongue, hips rutting into the heat of your soft cunt, nearly slipping out from how eager he was. yeah, you definitely weren't the only one desperate to have him slamming into you.

"f-fuck− feels s'good, baby," he buried his head into the crook of your neck, hips still not slowing down− his pelvis grinding against your clit with every fast thrust. your hands clawed at his back, whining for him to take his coat off, you wanted to touch him so bad. he only chuckled, squeezing your ass between his long fingers, "wanna touch me, yeahhh? beg for it, sweet girl."

of course he'd make you beg, he always does. "wanna touch you s'o baaad− p-please!" you babbled, pulling and tugging on his jet black coat, your words breathy as you gasped, bouncing back to meet his thrusts halfway and he moaned, immensely turned on by your eagerness.

"c'mon, please don't tell me that's the best you can do? I'm sure a whore like you can do better~" he huffed, playfully smacking your ass, "now, beg. properly."

"samu! please− wanna touch you," you gasped, tugging at the hair on the back of his neck. "wanna feel you− pleasepleaseplease let me touch you−!" your cries got cut off by osamu hoisting you up again, holding you up with one arm as he hurriedly took off his coat and threw it across the room− popping the buttons off his white button-up and throwing that away aswell. his attention quickly went back to you, running his cold hands up and down your sides as he shallowly thrusted into you.

your hands immediately flew to scratch at his bandaged back, not too hard though− you know there'd be a punishment awaiting you if the bandages were damaged− and you just wanted to be osamu's good girl today.

his thrusts grew deeper, lithe fingers reaching between your bodies to play with your clit and you moaned, tightening around his cock. the brunette let out a guttural growl at the feeling of your cunt swallowing him so deliciously, the feeling was downright addicting to him− he needed to feel you cum around his cock.

his hips were slamming into you now, fingers gripping your hips so tightly that you knew they were gonna leave marks. you didn't care though− not when getting your brains fucked out by the port mafia boss.

your vision was hazy, drool dripping down your glossed lips− but you could still see how damn pretty he was. how fucking pretty osamu looked while fucking your lights out− thick brown locks disheveled, face flushed as tiny beads of sweat gathered on his forehead− some of his bangs sticking to his skin and fuck− you could almost cum from the sight alone.

what you didn't know, though, was that he was thinking the same things about you. oh, how your pretty face scrunched up in pleasure everytime he rubbed against a particular spot− it made him abuse and hit that spot over and over again, just to see your eyes slightly roll back as chants of his name rolled off your tongue. he loved the way your breasts bounced with each thrust of his unforgiving hips, made him want to bite and suck on them so much that they'd be left red and swollen. god, the mere image made his cock twitch inside of your velvety walls.

you gasped when his fingers sped up with his thrusts, ripping out gurgled mewls and moans out of you, your head lolling back against the wall as he encouraged you to cum− and you were close.

"cum on this c-cock− fuuck−!" he got cut off by his own growl, hips moving at an erratic pace− "soak this fuckin' cock, angel, now." and you did, right on queue− spraying him with your juices, now dripping down your ass cheeks as you wail from the burning overstimulation− only to get muffled by the palm of your boss. your body was completely slack in his hold, jaw unhinged as your thighs burned from the constant friction.

with one final thrust, he shuddered before flooding your insides with his seed, balls pressing against your ass and head thrown back− exposing the column of his slim throat, you wanted to bite down on it.

he slowly pulled out shortly after, pulling your panties back up and letting the waistband snap against your heated skin before smacking your ass playfully. what a damn tease. you could feel his sticky release pooling in your panties, the sensation was uncomfortable but you didn't dare disobey his wishes.

"alright, off you go now. I'm sure you have work to do, no?" osamu smirked, patting your ass softly before pushing you forward.

you wanted to wipe that little smirk off his face so bad− you were so gonna get back at him for this.

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

a/n: sorry if this is ooc y'all I haven't read beast fully </3 kinda hate this but wtv, promise the next one will be better

TAGS »»————> @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @lxverss @lynxxyyy @nanamibeloved

@sorahatsumi @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @hannzai @honeycombflowers @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @poisonedslop @sukiischaotic @squigglewigglewoo @boba-is-good @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter @4xxxv @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @qqingque @lunaeheroine18 @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @leftrunawaybanana @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @otakudul @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch

[sinsandsweetness]

something about hyperfeminine reader x rick.... another anon said he'd adore pink nail polish & i so totally agree. maybe cause he's so rough and sharp edged? and it's the very opposite of him? so the pretty pink skirts & sweet perfume you always wear would make his brain fuzzy in the best way !! 🤧

using this as an excuse to write something extremely self indulgent 🤍 obsessed with this sweet, girly, almost bimbo reader that Rick can’t help but be a little extra soft with… <3

When he steps out of the shower and onto the bathmat, he can’t help but smile at the sight of you sitting on the sink, one foot up and crouched over, focused intently on the toenail you’re currently painting. And he can’t help but notice how cute it is that your tongue is poking out the side of your mouth.

Rick rubs a towel on his hair and then wraps it around his waist, walking over to the dresser in the bedroom and grabbing some boxers. You’re a little too immersed in perfecting the pale pink pedicure to notice that he even finished his shower.

“Need some help?” He asks, coming up to the sink and reaching into a drawer. Grabbing some shaving cream and a safety razor.

You look up at the sound of his husky voice. Taking in the sight of his wet hair. Curls forming and dripping onto his shoulders. His torso, glistening with little beads of water that are racing to meet the waist band of his plaid boxer shorts.

“Hm?” You say. The sight of him went straight between your legs, making you almost immediately forget his question.

“D’you need some help there, sweetie?” He nods towards the hand gripping at Essie’s ballet slippers.

“Oh. No, I just finished. Thank you though,” you smile up at him sweetly, screwing the cap back on the bottle and turning to let your legs dangle off the marble countertop.

He positions himself in between your legs and against the vanity, while you lean back on your hands. Watching his brows draw together in focus as he rubs shaving cream along his jaw, his chin and the bottom half of his face. Grabbing the razor, he starts to make long, languid strokes down his face and neck. The blade moving with ever curve of his jaw, so smooth and intentional. But he can feel you staring. Glancing from the mirror to your gaze and then back. Trying to fight the smirk from forming on his face.

“Is it hard?” You ask, oblivious to the teasing grin on his face.

“Shaving?”

“Yeah. Aren’t you scared you’re gonna cut yourself, or somethin’?” You ask, doe eyes wide and curious. And the sight makes him think about you on your knees, having looked up at him in nearly the exact same way, all sweet and eager and so fucking perfect.

Rick shakes his head, at both the intrusive thought and your question, “Not really. Don’t you shave your legs? It’s the same thing, sweetheart.”

“But this is on your face. And you’ve seen how many times I end up nicking myself.”

He smiles, knowing that it’s true. Watching you sit on the side of the tub, silky robe leaving very little to the imagination as you glide a razor up your legs, trying to go nice and slow and get every little hair. Turning sharply to look at him with wide eyes and a hand on your mouth when you both notice a crimson droplet, trickling all the way down to your ankle.

“Yeah. You aren’t so good at that are you?” He chuckles, pressing a quick peck to your mouth which you immediately wipe off because now there’s shaving cream on your nose.

It takes everything in his power not to kiss you again.

“So how do you always get it so good?” Your honeyed voice brings him back.

“Practice I guess. You wanna try?”

“And leave you with any more scars? No thank you.” You joke.

“C’mon. Give it a try.”

“You sure?”

He nods, urging the razor into your hand and leaning in for you, “Mhm. I trust you.”

You gulp at that comment. Hoping he can still keep that trust in a few minutes when you’re all done.

You try to copy what he was doing, going extra slow over the ridge of his jaw and the bump of his adam’s apple. He hums in approval and you take it as some kind of praise. Sitting up straight and a little more confident now that his hands have moved to your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter. Panties now flush with his groin.

“I did it.” You say triumphantly, handing him back the razor and letting your hands slide around his waist, fingers interlocking on top of his tailbone. Cheek pressed to his chest as he leans forward to rinse the razor under the faucet beside you. Tapping the metal on the counter twice. The sound echoing through the room, before he places it on a folded towel on the other side of the sink.

He leans back up to look at you. Pretty eyes and pouty lips. Hair all soft and natural, and tucked behind the dainty gold jewelry dangling from your ears.

“Y’look so pretty.” You marvel, one hand coming up to his jaw. Freshly shaved, so smooth and warm. With just the tiniest strip of leftover shaving cream that needed to be washed off.

You are so much prettier, sweet girl, he thinks to himself. Unable to form a verbal answer now that you’re touching his face. His heart doing somersaults like it was the first time. It isn’t. But he loves feeling like it is.

Being with you in this moment makes him forget what was stressing him out before his shower. Completely unbothered by the tedious week he’d had helping the Tobin with the walls.

Now, all he can even think about is you. Your face. Your voice. Your long legs and the holy temple in between them.

He closes his eyes at your touch, soft and delicately tracing your way down his jaw. The attention sending a tingly, serene feeling up his neck and down his spine.

He can’t even help what he does next. Not that he really needed to. And definitely not that he wanted to. He pulls you in, tangling his fingers into the locks at the nape of your neck. Kissing your soft, plush lips and tracing a tongue over your bottom one.

You taste like candy. And you smell like a vanilla cupcake. And the combination of the two makes him want nothing more than to take a damn bite.

Gosh, you couldn’t be more different from him. So pure and soft and sweet. So fucking kind and perfect. And though he may be a bit biased given your relationship and all, he’s positive that not a soul in Alexandria would disagree.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he pulls your legs around his waist, and he can’t help but smile against your lips and think to himself how fucking lucky he is that he found someone who can be his escape. Who can make his brain feel all fuzzy and his heart feel way too full. Who effortlessly distracts him from everything that’s wrong with in the world, just by being your beautiful self.

[cheriiyaya]

MASCARA RUNNIN' DOWN HER LITTLE BAMBI EYES !

FEATURING : D.Osamu, N.Chuuya + Fem!reader

♡ awww, their pretty girl's crying? or, dazai and chuuya with an emotional lover !

CW: fluff, dazai's a lil mean but its ok guys, clingy!reader, super self indulgent yall, erm crying (a lot of it), light angst(?) in chuuya's,

A/N: this was in my drafts for so long afjndkvndf also ogs know that my first fic was something similar ALSO I LOWKEY HATE THIS AJHHHOJFOIERW

"♪ Lana, how I hate those guys! ♪"

DAZAI OSAMU...⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Dazai admits that he'd be lying if he said he didn't like the way you looked when you got upset over little things- your pretty eyes glossy with tears, lashes heavy and damp and tears dripping down your flushed cheeks, god you looked so adorable and dazai just can't help himself !

Dazai giggled softly, cradling your head against his chest as you sobbed into his shirt. fingers curled into the cotton as you quivered and sniffled in his hold.

"D'awh, what's wrong darling?" He cooed, brushing his lips against the top of your head before tugging your head back to see your face, clicking his tongue and tapping his thumb against your tear-stained cheek as you tried to hide your face against his neck. He stared at you, taking you in as you wailed and hiccupped. "aw, what's got the pretty girl so sad?"

"n-nothing..." you sobbed out of your sore throat, sniffling as more tears rolled down your features. dazai sighed, shaking his head and he gives your hair a light tug.

"Don't lie, what's wrong bella'?" He grins, kissing your tear stained cheeks as he strokes your hair. "I come home to see you all teary eyed only to burst out wailing when you see me." dazai teased, tone full of mirth.

Truthfully, dazai never minded when you were like this, and hearing the way you mumbled out an "I missed you" in that little strained voice of yours made his heart melt. He wiped away tears beading up on your lash line, smoothing his thumb against your flushed cheek.

"You missed me? awww, the cutie missed me? darling you can't possibly be this upset whenever I'm not around." He spoke with mock disappointment, biting down on his tongue in amusement when you began to cry harder.

"'m sorry!! 'm sorry!!!" You wailed, actually thinking he was mad at you. How cute.

Dazai hummed, stealing a kiss from your lips and nestling his long fingers into your hair.

"Aww, don't cry! c'mon, you're gonna ruin your pretty face by crying that much! It's okay, bella'- god you looks so adorable right now!"

NAKAHARA CHUUYA...⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Like dazai, chuuya can't help but admit your adorable when you cry, but he's a little more sympathetic. Shushing you softly to quell your worries-and he can't help but wish you'd be a little less emotional with everything.

"doll, please stop cryin', alright? I'm fine." chuuya sighed, rubbing circles on your back as your trembling form clung to him. you let out a choked sob, fisting his shirt in trembling hands.

"y-you were so late!!! I thought somethin' happened to you!!" you choked out, burying your face against his chest, dampening his gray vest with tears. chuuya's heart clenched, as if bony fingers wrapping around and squeezing hard as you sobbed in his arms.

he gently tugged your head up, kissing your forehead and mumbling against your hairline.

"sweetheart, I'm fine- the boss had a shit tonna work for me to finish, that's all." chuuya explained softly, pulling away and cupping your chin, pressing a gloved thumb on your quivering bottom lip "please don't cry, f'me?" He brushed his thumb back and forth on the plush of your lip.

You looked up at him, eyes glossy and red-rimmed. Chuuya sighed, brushing back your hair. He never minded how much you cared about him, but at moments like this...

He just wished you wouldn't stress yourself out like this.

Stroking your hair, chuuya whispered:

"Doll, you don't hafta worry about me so much, okay? I'm here, I'm okay, so stop crying, huh? It'll ruin your pretty face, 'kay? There you go..."

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

©Cheriiyaya 2024.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

Just Friends

pairing: beomgyu x reader

summary: Just friends, just friends. That's all there is, all there's ever been but have you really ever been just friends?

warnings: gn reader, dom reader, sub beomgyu, thigh riding, handjob, lots of groping, car sex, mentions of masturbation, possibly more that i forgot

word count: 2.2k

a/n: writer's block is so real, i literal pulled this out of a sleep-deprived haze at 4 in the morning so feedback would be appreciated<3

Just friends. He tells himself over and over again.

Just friends. You tell yourself over and over again.

But friends don't do things like this on rainy nights in the back of your car. With your windows fogging up and the only light coming from a lone streetlight from the corner of the parking lot.

Friends don't clutch his hips, grinding him down against your thigh. Friends don't pant heavily at the feeling of his fingernails digging deep into the skin of your shoulders almost hard enough to draw blood.

At least they shouldn't.

But maybe you and Beomgyu have never really been 'just friends'.

"God," but it's never gone this far before. "Don't stop, please, don't stop!"

Sure there's been teasing touches and lingering looks, meaningful conversations that maybe meant more than either of you had wanted to admit.

But you hadn't expected it to go this far.

To have him clinging to you. To have his lips all over your neck and your hands all in his hair.

To have his pants discarded somewhere in the back along with his boxers in your haste...

To have his dick rubbing against the rough material of your jeans. To have him sobbing into your ear to not stop, to never stop, that he'll die without your touch.

You suppose your best friend has always been a touch dramatic.

If you could even call him that anymore-your best friend.

"Don't worry baby," every nerve ending in his body feels like it's on fire. His ears feel like they're ringing, replaying your words over and over like a broken record. "I won't."

It feels so good, it hurts so bad.

Tears stream down his face from both-from everything. From you calling him baby like he's yours. With so much affection and adoration, like he's the most important thing in the world to you right now.

Like he isn't shaking against you, crying out like some kind of wounded animal (in heat), thinking or maybe even muttering how he can't get enough, how it'll never be enough, how he wants you so bad, how he'll die before he lets you go.

Your hand guides his lips to yours, soft and sweet and hungry. Devouring every one of his whines up and replying with your own want for more, kissing him like your life depends on it. You'd always thought that he'd sound pretty, but not this pretty, not this pathetic or needy.

"Fuck, Beomgyu."

Your mouth clashes against his over and over, saliva dripping down his chin as he tries and fails in trying not to drool. You're too preoccupied in nipping at his lips that you're faintly aware of his hands slipping under your shirt until they're on your chest, squeezing and exploring everything he's only fantasized of.

He hasn't felt this good before. Ever. Not from past partners or from his own hand. Toys feel like nothing compared to this, the unforgiving bite of denim somehow lightyears better than vibrators and dildos and whatever else he's used to replicate your touch.

The friction makes him feel like he's burning but his hips just rut faster. He wishes it was your skin, soft and comfortable and you-but he doesn't think he can be patient enough. Doesn't think he can find it in himself to let go of you long enough for you to take your pants off. He has his nose in your hair and the taste of you on his tongue, and he can't stop now.

He can't stop. Not when he's wanted this for so, so long.

Okay, so maybe you've never truly been 'just friends'.

Well, maybe before that first time you were out at a party together and a friend of a friend approached Beomgyu, trying to talk him up while you stood right next to him.

Before you'd watched, something ugly simmering in the pit of your stomach that you couldn't fully decipher-that you weren't sure you wanted to decipher.

It was only until Beomgyu shot you a pleading look that you were able to keep your cool and then you'd very kindly told that friend of a friend to back the fuck off and leave the two of you alone.

And maybe, just maybe Beomgyu had gone home that night and let his hand wander past his waistband to wrap around his aching cock.

Jesus christ.

With each stroke of his hand he conjured your image in his mind. It was you looking at him, watching him-touching him. Talking to him in that same cold, mean voice you had talked to that friend of a friend.

Hating him and loving him all in one, rough and cruel but soft and caring. He wanted all of it, all of you.

And then afterwards it was basking in an afterglow of remembering the way that your eyes softened once again when they landed on him and your hand touched his shoulder and you asked if he was okay.

Friends do this...right? He'd thought, not ready yet to admit that maybe it was something more.

Just friends that brought you to his apartment a few weeks later, slightly ashamed and very drunk and looking for some kind of comfort after you'd been out drinking for better part of the night.

Just friends that had your hands all over his body and your lips all over his throat, sloppy wet kisses making his head spin and his body heat up. That'd had you shoving him down onto the couch and climbing on top of him, pushing your knee between his legs as your cold hands slithered up his shirt in search of warm, smooth skin to lay claim on as yours.

Just friends with the way that you promptly passed out on top of him and conveniently remembered nothing of the night before. Of groping your best friend, of telling him how pretty he was, of whispering that he was a good boy.

'I want you.'

'You're so pretty.'

'Perfect.'

'My good boy.'

'Mine.'

Friends don't know the way his moans sound. Or the way his skin feels against yours.

Like tonight,

A movie. That was all it was supposed to be.

Platonic. Friends. Just going to see a movie together, get dinner after. Nothing more.

"Touch me! G-od, please touch me!" His hand flies up, fingers dig into your wrist as he pulls it down between his legs, his dick throbbing and needy.

It feels so much better-your hand-your skin, your fingers loosely wrapping around him, teasingly rubbing at the tip. "And why should I baby? Have you been good? Have you been a good boy?"

He doesn't know.

He doesn't knowHe doesn't knowHe doesn't know.

All he knows is you.

Just friends shouldn't let things get to this point.

...Oh well.

A movie. A quiet theatre. Darkness and eyes all too often glancing at the profile of the other.

A tension palpable in the air as fingers brushed against each other to grab popcorn. Hands aching, itching to hold each other. An agonizing one hundred and twenty minutes.

Nothing though.

Only getting into the car afterwards and driving off.

"What do you want to eat?" He only shrugs in reply and you roll your eyes. "Helpful."

"Well I dunno," he thinks, "the usual? I can place an order to your place and we should get back before it gets there."

You hum in reply. "It's late though, you planning to stay over for the night?"

"...Sure."

Hesitation. He can only think of the last time you stayed the night. So long ago now, he'd avoided either of you spending the night at the others ever since. From fear? From preservation? Or from hoping that your frustration would break the dam first.

'I want you.'

'Mine.'

Words that flash through his mind unbridled. Sounds and touches that flood his brain

'My good boy.'

He swallows, trying to keep his eyes on the screen of the phone. Trying to hope the darkness blankets how red his face has turned.

"Hey could you pull over here?"

"Sure?" You'd glanced over at him and the question on your face evident.

He didn't elaborate though and you didn't ask.

You'd pulled into a mostly empty parking lot. Only a few cars left in front of a grey, drab building. Parked beside a flickering streetlight that continued for a few minutes before doing out completely. Certainly the furthest thing from being romantic by any means.

Nothing specific broke the tension, the unspoken rules.

But the next thing the either of you know is he's on your lap clawing at you aimlessly, pure desire fuelling him to do such pathetic things. Like telling you how horny he is and how bad he needs you.

You don't seem to have any problem with his confession though.

Responding in turn rather appropriately you'd think. And then your lips are against his and you're tugging at his clothes and touching his body like he's your last lifeline.

And then you're in the backseat of the car, his pants and boxers discarded into the back, your lips curled into a smirk against his skin.

And then you're here.

Doing things that friends certainly should not be doing.

"M' a good boy, promise! Please, I'll be your good boy!"

You'd imagined how his face would look all fucked out all but a million times in the dead of night, thinking about things you certainly should not have been thinking about.

But you'd never know that your imagination would do absolutely no justice to the real thing.

To his lips slick with your spit and his skin glowing with a sheen of sweat. Eyes fluttering like he's fighting to merely keep them open with every sensation he's feeling.

"Pretty~" you mutter.

Bite marks and hickeys all over his neck and collarbone-good thing it's nearly scarf season. Or bad thing, you're not sure you want him to hide these or if you want him to parade them around, show off your claim to him to everyone.

"So fucking pretty it's not fair-" a high, needy whine climbs up his throat and he lets it, because you don't even have to say it, he knows how much you love hearing how good you make him feel.

His eyebrows tug together as if in concentration. Concentration to stay sane while you let him fuck into your hand.

You trail a finger over his cheekbone, collecting a tear while everything within him tries not to let this end, because it can't be over yet, he doesn't want it to be over yet and he's not sure he can go again until later-if there is a later.

You lick the tear off your finger and his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head. "Not fucking fair to make me wait this long. Such a tease, such a whore."

Fingers press against his lips and he opens with zero hesitation. This is what you want, this is what he wants-more than anything.

You pull them out all too soon and replace your fingers with your tongue, letting him suck it into his mouth with a moan.

Your grip tightens, your hand moves faster and faster and his toes curl. Too much, too much-he can't...it can't, he doesn't want this to be over-

"No!"

His head falls into your neck with a strangled scream as he cums into your hand, staining your jeans and his shirt. You stroke him still to prolong the pleasure, milking him dry of everything he has before he lets out the first whine of protest and you stop.

"Please,"

His breath comes out in rushed pants, his head a jumbled mess of "more, please more-" followed by incoherent babbles and then, finally, "I can go again, wanna...wanna go again. Just...use me, use me however you want." as his hips work still, even if it only works against what he really wants, releasing pained whimpers all the while from the self-inflicted overstimulation.

You smile and he can practically hear it before he's flipped into his back, spread out and pinned against the slightly uncomfortable seats of your car as you press apart his legs, eyes roving over him before beginning to undo your pants.

"Use you, huh baby?"

Yes.

However you want. Use him however you want. That's all he wants. All he's wanted for so long.

The pads of your fingers press against his thigh, too close and he squirms with oversensitivity.

"We'll still be friends after this though right?"

He lets out a noise between a cry and an affirmation, eyes sliding shut as your body presses against his.

"Friends!" He gasps.

Your fingers lace together. You smile.

"But not just friends now are we...?"

a/n: y'all please forgive me if this is absolute bullshit. i feel like i haven't written anything for real in forever and i feel like rusty now lol. but lmk what you think (to possibly give me inspo to write more lol😭)

my taglist is here if you wanna be added: @hobihearteu, @lemonhongjoong, @laylasbunbunny, @xcookiemonsteer, @hahagay, @maru-matt, @d7dream, @amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix,

[house-of-daena]

scholars learning the intricacies of sexuality... pinning dottore down while you're wrecking him because he automatically starts reaching for the nearest clipboard in order to try and take notes on why he's enjoying being destroyed so much. alhaitham having this intense, focused look on his face because he's contemplating the nuances of your dirty talk so you have to fuck all of the thoughts out of his head ^_^

IMAGINE...

[CONTENTS: nsfw, degradation, slight feminization, choking + breath play (a little intense bc it's dottore), blood, sub alhaitham/sub dottore, amab.reader]

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤"don't look at me like that," you grabbed his chin harshly, raising it up so he'd finally meet your eyes with his teary, lust-filled ones, cheeks squished together in your grip. "are you tryna think? hm?" you ask him, your faces inches apart so that he can feel your hot breath fanning against his lips. his skin tingled, trying to pull his head from your hand and avoid your gaze, pretty red hues unfurling from his cheeks and down his neck.

but you kept his face still, grip almost bruising as you smiled at him, sickeningly sweet that it made his stomach churn, his heart leaping from the anticipation, "aw, baby," you coo, your other hand running through his soft hair, wiping off the sweat that began to form on his forehead, "you know how much i hate that." your velvety voice felt like honey dripping into his ears, a shuddering sigh slipping past alhaitham's lips as his eyes, though stuck in a daze, focused on you.

"wanna figure out how i make you feel so fucking small with just my words? hm?" you laugh mockingly, and alhaitham gulps, his own heartbeat hammering inside his ears as you looked down on him with half-lidded eyes, "wanna know how i make your dick so fucking hard by just calling you a cock addict? a whore? you're so cute, haitham~" he hates the way his pathetic cock jumps at each insult.

"don't even try analyzing my words, it'll be too much for your pretty lil' head." you lightly poke his forehead, his body trembling whenever your tone of voice becomes so patronizing, his hands too shaky to grip onto your shoulders.

then, let go of his face, leaning back with a dark gleam in your eyes. easily, you hooked your hands under his legs and bent his body in half, his ankle resting on your shoulders. alhaitham felt his cock throbbing against his abdomen, oozing precum all over his now-soiled shirt. he was about to turn his head away from you, too humiliated to look at you, when you suddenly plunged your cock deep inside him, eliciting a strangled mix of a gasp and a moan from his throat. your hips snapped back and forth against his ass, loud slapping filling his once silent bedroom.

you didn't give him time to adjust to your cock, his warm walls spasming around your dick and squeezing delightfully at your girth. he throws his head back, eyes rolled back when your cockhead hits his prostate, moaning your name so loudly without a care for anyone who could hear him, only to abruptly stop moving, cock still buried deep inside him.

alhaitham whines, his nails clawing at the meat of your biceps, his eyes focusing back onto your innocent smile, confused why you had stopped. "look away and i'll stop fucking you." you lean back down again, and alhaitham almost screams when your cock slips deeper inside him, biting his bottom lip to suppress any more obscene noises. you chuckle above him, eyes locking, before you start moving inside him again, groaning at the way his slutty hole sucked you in, refusing to ever let you go as you kept thrusting and hitting him again and again on his sensitive spot, making his toes curl.

he tries his best to maintain eye contact with you, but his body burns in utter embarrassment. your eyes were filled with nothing but hungry lust, and sheer mirth at his pitiful display. "i don't want you thinkin'," you purr into his ear, and he hiccups, chest trembling each time he tries to breathe. "you're too dumb f'that, okay?" he nods absentmindedly, eyes blurry from the tears that begun to roll down his red cheeks.

"ya shouldn't be thinkin' too much, just keep looking at me while i fuck into your pussy," alhaitham lets out a sob at those words, heart thumping hard against his ribs as he drools, completely lost to the feeling of your dick absolutely ravishing his insides. he stared back at you, pupils akin to hearts, as he incoherently chanted your name in between his moans. you grin down at him, pressing a kiss on his lips.

"that's it, that's my good, obedient slut."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤"what do you think you're doing?" you pin his wrist against his desk, tutting as you throw the clipboard he was trying to reach for onto the ground. dottore whines beneath you, his hips wriggling against yours, trying to fuck himself onto you when you've stopped moving. you only gripped onto his hair, raising his head and earning a whorish moan from his bloodied lips. "tryna document how good i'm fucking your hole? is that what you're tryna do?"

dottore kept his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes sharp as he glared at you when you turned his head to look at you. although the subtle shade of red adorning the tips of his head and the back of his neck told you more than enough. you coo at your cute doctor, before letting go of his cyan curls, and your hand trailing down his neck, littered with markings and bruises, courtesy of you.

your fingers wrapped around his pretty neck, nails digging onto his skin and making him gasp from both pleasure and for air. "darling, there's no need for you to write down any notes on how i fuck you." you mutter in his ear, his back beautifully arched whilst you pull out until you were almost out of his hole, before slamming into him without a warning, a garbled cry leaving his lips. your fingers press onto his veins, his throat tightening as he scratches the wooden surface of his desk.

"wanna study how your slutty hole takes in my fat cock so good?" you hit his prostate hard, making him scream and throw his head back, hitting your shoulder, "too bad, you aren't il dottore right now. you're just some cock drunk whore, too dumb for science, too dumb to even talk." archons, your words made chills run down his spine, his cock leaking so much it's formed a puddle of his arousal on the floor.

the noises he's letting out were a crude mix between desperate gulps for air and cries of pure ecstasy, his velvety walls conforming to the shape of your overpowering cock. the corners of his eyes were darkening as you continued to dick him down so good, his head spinning from the lack of air, and the euphoric bliss wracks all throughout his body.

but you loosened the grip on his neck, immediately heaving air inside his lungs greedily, his tears falling onto the desk with silent pitter-patters. you didn't stop fucking him, though, stars forming at the back of his eyes. "you don't need to document something i always do to you." dottore whimpers when your fingers squeezed his throat again, almost cumming from the shocks of pain he felt onto his skin. "but i can't stop your scholarly instincts, no?" you hum with a mischievous lilt in your voice.

"tell me how good i make you feel." you coo, pressing kisses onto his scarred back, and all over his shoulders. "go on, tell me. i know you can do it." you encouraged, condescendingly. it made dottore's dead heart thrum from the thrill, opening his mouth to speak, only to be choked by your hand once again. you laughed at his poor attempt, a humiliated scowl forming on his lips caked with dried blood. "what? too dumb to even talk? am i fucking you too good?" you teased, the moans spilling his lips sounds so utterly debauched when you lift his leg to push in deeper.

dottore tries again, struggling to even form the simplest of words, mind too hazy, and his lips trembled, voice raspy,"m-mhn! shooo good—!" he yelps when you rammed your cock harder and faster inside him, sobbing and shaking from dizzying pleasure. "fffuck! ahn—! feels s'good, i-i can't—"

"louder, slut!" you ordered, your hand reaching down to grab hold of his painfully hard cock, and he rolled his eyes back when you squeezed him, tugging on his length while you continued to abuse his spasming hole.

"p-puh—pleashe! moremoremoremore! it ffeeels— hah! s'fuckin' good!" he slurs out, and you grin as he finally breaks, "fuck me! h-harder! please—shit—! oh a-archons-!"

"good boy," you kiss his cheek, soothing his poor, bruised neck, "now you'll take my dick 'till i'm done, 'kay?"

a/n - this is the only thing i can write for today bc i was pretty busy with other stuff, my bad 😰 i promise to work on the monster fucker series quickly! anyway, bless odetari, lumi athena, kanii, 6rarelyhuman for their songs or else i would never post smut 😭

[ghouljams]

“#distribution system is a pillow Princess/sub!ghost fic”

😳 h-holy shit. I think the world went white when I read this. Like a flash bang went off. Oh my god.

You hold his face between your hands, your thumbs gently stroking over his scarred cheeks. Your eyes are so soft, they look at him like he's something fragile, something precious. Ghost holds your wrists like a lifeline, desperately begging to be grounded in this moment. Your lips move without sound, he wishes he could hear it, could hear your voice like the trumpets of revelations. The light shines behind your head like a halo, it must be a halo, divinity shining through your skin. Everything hurts.

"Stay with me," He begs, his throat dry and his bones aching.

"Of course," You pet over his buzzed hair, your voice as soft as early spring, "I'm not going anywhere."

You kiss his temple, let him settle his hands on your waist and lean into the touch, hungry for it. You're not going anywhere. He's not either, this is the last stop. He can just be here. Ghost traces his fingers over your skin with reverence, his eyes on yours as you tip his head back. It's good, you're finally in your rightful place over him, larger than life in all your kindness. He could let you swallow him whole, he wishes you would. Then he could be a part of you, a part of something worthwhile, something good and kind. Whatever he's done in life-

"Stay with me Simon," You murmur, as if he'd ever want to be anywhere else. Of course, he wants to echo, of course. You lean to brush your lips over his cheek, it hurts, white hot just under his eye. You slice your line through him, ask again, your voice so distant and yet so close beside his ear, "Stay with me."

His lips move around your name, breathe in, exhale. His hands hold you, drag over your skin as he tips his head to press his lips against your neck. Can he have this? Is this allowed? Are apostles meant to worship their god through such sinful means? He slides his hand between your legs, rubbing his fingers through the wet heat he finds there. You're so soft.

You whine, such a pretty noise, and he kisses you again. He mumbles your name against your skin, traces his lips against your pulse, desperate to feel your life. Everything he does is for you, every breath he takes, every beat of his heart, each blink, each touch of his fingers. Nothing matters to him like you do. You're so warm, dripping over his hand, the noises your sweet pussy make when he presses his fingers into you are perfect, and obscene.

"My Simon," You breathe, "You're so good for me." It hurts between his ribs, cracks his sternum, you could take him apart with so many words. "You never tell me what you want," You coo, "Never ask for anything."

"Want to make you come," He mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain of it, he doesn't deserve to ask for your love, but he can approximate it, "want to be useful to you."

"You are, Simon," You whisper, he jerks against you at the jolt that goes through him, "because I love you."

It spins in his mind like tires stuck in mud. It's not right. He wants it too badly for it to be right. You couldn't. Even when he was leaving you couldn't. Ghost swallows. It's cold in here.

He blinks his eyes open to a hospital ceiling. Everything hurts. He reaches his hand to feel whatever is covering his left eye with a grunt of pain. His fingers twitch and another sharp jolt of pain zips through him.

"I wouldn't," Price tells him. Ghost turns his head to look at him, adjusting to the new blind spot. He's sitting in an arm chair beside the hospital bed, his chin perched on his palm, fingers curled over his mouth and leg bouncing. Ghost wonders how long it's been since his last cigar. Price sniffs. "Down two fingers, gonna hurt for a while."

Ghost turns his head to look back at the ceiling. The fluorescents buzz, a whine only he ever seems able to hear. At least the sky would've been a nice thing to end on.

"Nearly lost you on the table," Price continues, Ghost can hear him standing, "I'll let the nurse know you're up."

Ghost swallows again, tries to feel his tongue in his mouth, so dry it may as well glue itself to his teeth. "Where's my wife," He croaks. Price's footsteps stop, something heavy falling over the air. There are a thousand things he could say, a thousand comforts he could offer.

"You're not married," He tells him, and leaves.

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part five | chapter list

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue sleepy kisses, baby kisses, cheesecake and cherry ice pops, and dinner with uncle wayne. [8k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a girl dad (<3), tw for mentions of not having much money, new established relationship! idiots in love!! and junie being the sweetest baby ever

𓆩❤︎𓆪

You don't think you've ever seen Eddie asleep before. You rack your brain for a memory, even the suggestion of one, and come up blank. Maybe I dreamt it, you think to yourself, hesitating with your hand held aloft above his peaceful face.

He looks like a dream. 

What he'd said last night — before the kiss, and after — echoes. You can feel his hands on your face if you close your eyes, the heat of each gentle palm, the scratch of a silver ring. He's missing his jewellery now, because he takes it off before bed. You can't believe you hadn't known that. All these details. His lashes kissing the delicate skin of his under eye, the way his lips thin in sleep from being pressed together. You reach toward him with a shy hand and brush a bundle of curls from his cheek, exposing the ridge of his cheekbone, begging to be kissed. 

You'd been tired, so tired, and then he'd come back, and he'd crashed hard. You understand it. It'd been the most exciting moment of your life, and on top of that, he'd taken care of Junie for most of the day beforehand. 

You've slept sparingly. The sun leeches in through the window one small ray at a time. Junie makes a small sound behind you, stirring in her toddler bed. You nibble your lip guiltily, wanting one more minute, just one, to look at Eddie uninterrupted. 

You turn around and your reluctance melts, Junie a picture of a good long sleep. Her hair is a mess, her lips still pouting, and her eyes are partly open. She sees you're awake too and smiles, and the guilt of wishing she'd sleep in intensifies. She climbs down from her bed and rushes up to yours.

"Hey, baby," you say softly, holding out your arm.

She grabs the sheets and you help her up, folding her into your chest with a contented sigh.

She's tired, and she lets you move her around with little protest. Which isn't to say she's despondent: her hands latch onto your t-shirt, and her tiny chin rises as she stares you straight in the eye. 

"How did you sleep, bubby?" you whisper-coo, hand spread over the breadth of her shoulders, the other crushed under your own weight. "My hand's going numb." 

You pull you arm out and hold her face. "That's better. Good sleep? Do you feel happy?"

"Good," she says. "Feel good?" 

You huff out a delighted sound and drop your nose to hers. "I feel super good, Junie baby. I'm so happy, because you're happy, and you're so smart." 

She smiles more. 

"Can you say that, baby? Say, 'I'm so smart."

Junie wiggles against your torso, hands at the neckline of your sleep shirt. "Smart," she says. 

"Yeah! Yes. 'I'm so smart.'" 

"I'm so 'mart." 

"Yay!" you cheer again, your inflection celebratory even though you're still speaking in hushed tones. You don't want to wake Eddie, but maybe you do — is this the kind of thing he's interested in being a part of? "You're so smart. So so smart, and pretty and kind and soft." 

You stroke her cheek with the back of your index finger, hoping to tickle her into giggles. "So soft," you murmur, "my lovely soft girl. You know why you're so soft? It's 'cause you're such a good girl, and you let me wipe your cheeks after dinner even though you hate it." You're speaking quietly enough that some of the words sound worn, syllables lost. 

Junie doesn't need to hear them to know they're dripping in love. She rests her cheek against your upper arm, chub against chub, and you sink down with her, closing her in for a cuddle.

Your fingertips brush over the nape of her neck. 

"Love you," you say, kissing her head absentmindedly. 

"Love you," she says back. 

She'd been a slow-learner, and she's still behind the majority of her age group, but none of it matters. Hearing her say anything at all is a gift. Hearing her says she loves you? 

You laugh. There's nowhere else for all the happy to go. 

Your hopes of sleeping again are dashed when she sits up and sees the lump of a body behind you. If she's confused she doesn't show it, hands pressed to your tender side as she climbs over you and onto Eddie's stomach. 

He doesn't rouse at first. He sighs, his arm lifting where it's trapped under the sheets, your faded cornflower blue quilt that he'd praised unnecessarily. It's pretty, he'd said, back flat to your mattress as you'd imagined him a hundred times before. 

You're pretty, you'd said. He'd opened his arms to draw you in for another hug. They'd felt endless all night.

Junie gets to his chest and her face fills with recognition. 

"Eddie," she says happily.

He hums but still doesn't wake. Junie pulls down the blankets, and he raises his arm. Eyes closed, he wraps it around her, pulling her to his chest with a contented sound. She giggles, tiny baby giggles, and starts to play with his hair. 

“June,” he mumbles. 

“Eddie,” you say, apprehensive, forcing a lightness, “we have company.”

“I can feel that,” he says. 

To your — your pleasure, your elation, he turns onto his back and his free hand finds you. His fingers curl around yours and he holds them, thumb pressed to the knuckle of your index finger. 

His eyes open slowly, his lashes parting, his face dipped down to take Junie in. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says. 

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he repeats with a laugh. “Aw, Junie, your hair! I’ve never seen you before mommy gets you dressed. Uncle Wayne would say you look like me when I wake up, when I was a kid he,” —Eddie talks through a yawn, smoothing the baby hairs out of Junie’s eyes— “used to say I looked like Linus from the Peanuts strip.”

“That’s so mean,” you say. You're relieved. You should've known Eddie wouldn't care. He loves her. 

"You know who you look like?" he asks her. 

She shakes her head. His face lights up. 

"Animal! Grown up Animal, not the baby." 

Your stomach rumbles. Eddie looks at you with concern, though that concern is a mild, soft thing. He sees you properly for the first time since he woke up, Junie held to his chest, hair as messy as hers, as yours probably is, his t-shirt neckline rolled from wear, and he visibly melts.

"D'you wanna go out for breakfast?" you ask. 

He shakes his head. "Come here." 

"What?" 

"Just come here. Lie down." 

You ease off of your elbow and slide toward him. You rest your head very carefully beside his, and are immediately delighted when he kisses your cheek. 

"How are you feeling?" he asks, pulling his arm out of hiding to steer the side of your face to his. Your noses smush together, eyes closing on instinct. "Hey, how are you?" 

"How are you?" you ask back. He sounds super tired. 

"Y'always do that. You can't just answer me? You're–" He kisses you, then, softly but with a sluggish imprecision. "Impossible." 

"I'm impossible?" 

"You're impossible," he promises. 

You try not to squish Junie as you wrap your arm around her and bring a hand to his cheek. The tiniest rebirth of stubble scratches your fingertips as they rove up his cheek to the smoothest plane under his eye. You turn your finger until the nail is flat to his skin, stroking a fascinated back and forth. 

"I can't believe you're real." 

Can't believe you're real, and you chose me, and you're here now letting my baby pull at the sweat curls tight at your neck. 

"Do I look bad?" he asks. 

You roll your head back enough to see his smile. It makes your heart skip in the best way, how handsome he is, and you have to dive in again to kiss the line between his lips and his cheek. He's really warm. Before him, you'd forgotten how this could feel, the heat that another person can give you and how protected it leaves you. 

"You look really nice," you say, your finger rubbing up and down his cheek. A teardrop to his chin that falls and climb over and over. 

"Eddie," Junie says, weaselling under your arm.

"What, baby?" he asks. 

She tucks herself up under his chin and lifts her head. It's awkward, but babies are like that. Always wanting to be where they aren't. 

"Junie?" he asks. 

She looks up, dishevelled hair especially fierce. 

"You said my name, remember? Did you have something to ask me?" 

She giggles at his tone but doesn't answer. Your stomach makes some more aggressive sounds and Eddie shoots up like bamboo, baby held to his chest and hand behind your head. 

"Mom's dying." 

"Eddie." 

"Mom's super duper hungry," he says, stroking your forehead apologetically. "Now move, mom, so we may enter your kitchen and make super duper breakfast." 

"Oh, no, let me change her first," you say. "Poor girl, I slept through the entire night." 

He passes her over to you and you stand so he can slide out of bed. His smile grows. "Hair fairy got you both," he says. 

You glare. "You are not exempt." 

"Can I use the bathroom?" 

"Don't ask! Since when do you ask?"

"Do you want to go first?" 

His caring is sweet but unnecessary. "No. Please go, and spend like ten minutes in there? I promise we'll be much prettier when you get back." 

"You're beautiful now," he says, though he obeys your ask and treks out of the bedroom with a wanton groan and a stretch that shows a lot of back. It's more than likely on purpose. 

"I'm with my baby!" you yell, laughing. 

"Don't know what you mean."  

You strip Junie down to her smalls, change her diaper, and rub a nice lotion all over. She loves the skin to skin and stays still until you offer her today's options, two dresses, one blue and one a lighter green. She chooses the green, so you put green butterfly clips in her hair to match, and white socks with lace in black shoes. She looks awesome. 

"Girls?" Eddie shouts. "Can I come out now?" 

"I was kidding," you murmur to yourself, laughing.

You comb your fingers through your hair and meet him in the bathroom doorway with Junie's hand held in your own, glancing at each other through the gap. 

"I wasn't serious." 

"Sweetheart," he says, bending at the waist like he's been punched, "look at you. Juniper the Beautiful, holy sugar."  

She only smiles. 

"I can take her, yeah? I'll make breakfast. Do you want to get dressed?" he asks you, concern again softening the lines of his face. 

"Sorry," you say. 

"For what?" 

He takes your face into his hand, cupping your cheek. You meld into it like you're one and the same, two pieces of the same puzzle clicked back into place. Junie’s hand in yours makes three. 

"Alright, Junie, breakfast," he says, pulling apart and away with a humorous brevity, stealing her little hand from yours. 

They walk together down the hallway, hands swinging. 

"We'll go get breakfast!" you call. That's why you'd put her shoes on.

"I can make it," Eddie says, voice carrying in the quiet. He shoots a smug look over his shoulder. "I can make it, seriously. Just have a minute for yourself, why don't you?" 

You wonder if that's code words for you look like shit right now, but you firmly believe Eddie wouldn't tell you that even if you did. You wash up in the bathroom and then get changed into a new-old skirt that you sometimes wear to work though you're not supposed to and a nice shirt that doesn't go. You take it all off and try again. And again. 

You pull on a pair of tight sweatpants and the band t-shirt he'd bought you all those weeks ago. For a moment you stand there, face in your hands, and then a big hand presses to your shoulder blade and scares you into flinching. 

"Oh, shit," you say. 

Eddie laughs a storm and gets his hand under your armpit. That's worse, and you squirm, but he doesn't budge, pulling you toward him for a tight-boned hug. 

"You're taking for ages," he says, parroting one of Junie’s newer phrases. 

"Well." You shove your face into the top of his shoulder. "I think I'm nervous. Do I look stupid? Nothing fits me." 

He hears your embarrassment and your panic and hoists you backward, hands curled around the tops of your arms as he gets a good look. 

"You look pretty, and like you need something to eat." He presses his lips together, a funny picture of nervousness to mirror your own. "I know we should probably talk about it, but I don't really know how to do that. Just. Are you still– You don't regret it?" 

It sounds clunky in his mouth. 

"I don't regret any of it," you say sincerely. 

"Good," he says, recovering quickly from this show of vulnerability with a good heaping of bravado, "'cause I was really hoping to get to do this again." 

His hands climb your shoulders, settle neatly in the curves of your neck. He holds your face. You wait for him to kiss you. 

"What? I brushed my teeth." 

He presses his lips to yours all wonky with laughter. It's fleeting, not nearly as long as you want it to be, but Junie shouts something from the kitchen and draws both of your attention. 

"It wasn't about you brushing your teeth," he says, back of his hand rubbing yours as he overtakes. 

Junie stands in the kitchen with a spatula, a whisk, and the rolling pin, an array of items from the bottom drawer she's in the middle of relocating. 

"Sorry I left her, I just wanted to make sure you weren't, like, trying to think of ways to let me down easy. I put the TV on. Not that you can't let me down easy," he says, bending to face Junie.

You shake your head as he starts to help her take things out of the drawer. You don't keep anything sharp in it for this exact reason, Junie's enthusiastic upheaval. 

He catches your look. "I'll put them back! Promise." 

"It's fine, you know she does it all day anyways." 

And really, he should know you won't mind because whenever he's here he helps. Cleans, cooks, soothes her small tantrums and her bigger distresses, like when you won't let her eat laundry powder with the tiny shovel that comes in the box. 

He's even started playing the bad guy sometimes. It sounds crazy, but having someone who's willing to say no for you is a sharp relief. To get to be the comforter rather than the nag, and to share a smile over Junie’s distraught head. 

"This is positive reinforcement." 

"I know both of those words, and yet," Eddie says, closing the now emptied drawer with his foot. 

"You helping her take stuff out teaches her that those things should be taken out." You pull open the fridge. "But it doesn't really matter, I'm just saying. Do you want orange or apple juice? June?" 

You hold out the carton of apple juice and the gallon of orange. The orange juice is awful, a concentrate with too much sugar, and it's delicious, so Junie picks that one without hesitating. You give her half juice half water in a sippy cup. 

"Is mine watered down too?" Eddie asks, accepting the glass you press into his hand. 

"I even mixed in some pedialyte. You're welcome." 

He nods with more genuineness. "Thank you. Now sit down! I'm making breakfast. I'm gonna make it. What do you want?" 

You look at him, fresh but still sleep rumpled, and you think about how hungry you are, and you really like him so much and you get why he wants to do this, but. 

"Listen, let's go out. Let's get waffles and syrup and strawberries and nobody will have to do the dishes." 

He buckles way too fast. It feels like a big compliment, how quickly you can erode his resistance. 

"Alright. Fine, but not because I couldn't have made all of those things." 

"Of course not." 

"You look crazy pretty when you ask for things, you know? All this time I've been begging you to ask for things and now I'm a little worried. D'you always smile like that? I could be in trouble." 

You boo at him and he smiles all the way to the car. He's still smiling as he drops his hand onto your thigh, pulls out of the driveway, and starts down the street leading out of the trailer park. It takes you a minute, but eventually you realise you can touch him back, laying your hand on top of his experimentally. 

"Do I look stupid?" he asks. 

He's stolen one of your hoodies to hide his slept on shirt. His jeans look messed up from sleeping in, but they're baggy. 

"You don't… You could start leaving clothes at my house, you know? If you wanted to– stay again." You swallow a nervous giggle. "I mean." 

"Of course I want to stay again. I'd love to. I love being with you." 

He squeezes your thigh. If it weren't for his pinking ears, you'd assume him unaffected. 

"Okay. Good. You can stay the night whenever you like, handsome, 'cause I love being with you too." 

You wonder and worry if your declaration is too close to an I love you he doesn't want. You do love him, have loved him for a while, but you have no clue what you even are. Last night, you'd said best friend. He's more than that, he has to be. 

You're in sync, or he can read your mind. He says, "We'll talk about it. After you get some breakfast in you. Your stomach's so loud they just put a weather warning on the radio." 

"They did not." 

���

Wayne puts a beer down in front of his nephew and doesn't pull any punches. 

"If you get that poor girl pregnant, I will disown you. Not her, mind you. Just you." 

Eddie thinks this is a very weird thing to say, but he also knows that Wayne is mostly kidding. 

"I'm not going to get her pregnant." 

Satisfied, Wayne sits down next to Eddie on the couch, the two of them tired from a long day at work, the TV on quietly in the background. It's the same thing they do everyday, or everyday before Eddie met you and your baby. 

"I get to meet her, or we just gonna meet at the wedding?" 

"Funny," Eddie says. "You can meet her whenever you want to. I kind of didn't think you'd be interested." 

Wayne sighs, scrubs his jaw. 

"Son, I want to meet her. Her and the baby. I didn't know if it was gonna work, but…" He smiles at Eddie. Eddie thinks that it's a mix of pride and love, and it has a lump forming in his throat near instantly. "I should've known, huh?" 

Eddie makes himself scoff. 

"Yeah, you should've." 

"Only thing you ever half-assed was high school." 

"You had to get that one in there." 

Quick wit and nipping comments aside, Eddie knows Wayne truly does want to meet you and Junie, and that he should've a long time ago. It had been a cop out to say he didn't think Wayne wanted to meet you, because he knew his uncle had been curious and — he's family. Wayne is Eddie's family, and you and June have become the same. 

When he brings it up to you, he does it carefully. With flowers. 

You open the door and throw your arms around him, smashing the flowers unapologetically. He chuckles into your neck, pulls you tight to his chest. You smell like the diner.

"How come you never used to do this before?" he asks. 

"You never did either." 

You take his face into your hands and kiss him, before your usual shyness takes over and you pull away. He's having none of it, grabbing your wrist before you can escape to offer your flowers. 

"Here. You'll have to give me one back for Junie, though." 

You give him the biggest flower of the bunch, a huge pink carnation with perfect petals and a thick stalk. Your fingertips brush his as you do, and his eyes are drawn to them, your hands, the bump and bone of your knuckles. You still have a scratch from work down the length of your pinky, and they're scrubbed raw as usual from cleaning. He worries you're a little compulsive about cleaning, but he supposes you'd had to have been, all by yourself. He resolves to treat them kindly at the next possible opening. 

"Thank you." 

You don't blink at his bag from Bradley's. You try not to look at it; Eddie won't accept a thank you and you're trying to let him give you things, as per the arrangement. 

As in, you, with Junie in your lap and fresh cream on your cheek, had agreed to be his girlfriend three days ago in the booth of a diner that wasn't Benny's. He hadn't been as brave as he could've been. It felt unreal to him to be with you, to have kissed you more times than he could remember, and to have you smiling back. 

"Listen, I know you said we're best friends, and we are, you're my best friend, but I– we're more. I want to be your boyfriend." He rolled the word around so you'd know how strange he though it was. "But if you've… changed your mind–" 

You'd reached across the table, pads of your fingers stroking the back of his wrist. "Why would I change my mind?"

"You realise, if we're together, you have to let me take care of you all the time?" he'd asked, full of nervous energy and really, really pleased. Proud to have you. 

"I think I can deal with it." 

He'd rubbed the toe of his shoe against your ankle and finally told you about the cream on your face. 

"Junie?" he says now, eyes searching for your lovely daughter. 

"She's in the bedroom." 

"What for?" 

You squeeze your hand through the crook of his arm, press your cheek to the top of his shoulder, and laugh. "She's making Eddie's bed, apparently. I tried to explain that you won't be sleeping here all the time but I might have made it worse." 

Did you make it worse, or had your toddler misunderstood? He hates how even in the small things you'll blame yourself. This feels like a completely blameless situation, and, if anything, it's his fault, he's the one who stayed the night, and then another night, and another. He'd gone home between those days, had even gone to work, and really didn't mean to spend the night each time. It's addictive to get to sleep with you so close by. Getting to kiss you with your arm slung over his chest, your tired eyes staring up at him lovingly — he's a good person but he's weak, too. 

He knows it's a little improper to stay this close so soon. If he thought for a second you weren't okay with it he'd be out the door. 

"Eddie?" you ask. 

"What?" 

"You're staring straight through me," you say, sounding both amused and concerned. "What are you thinking about?" 

"You, mostly. You and June. You know, Wayne wants to meet you." 

You shake the bouquet at him, brows furrowed accusingly. "Is this a bribe?" 

"'Course not… Are they working?" 

"I don't need flowers. I want to meet him too. It's weird we haven't met before. You keeping us apart?" 

"I absolutely am. I was a gross kid, I don't need him to tell you all of that now I actually got you." 

Eddie draws away from you reluctantly to put his bag on the table, as well as June's flower. He pulls out the dinner he's brought for tonight and his most important purchase, a vase big enough for your flowers. It's simple clear glass with dainty enamel flowers around the circumference. 

"For you, my sweetheart, a vase for the flowers. You want me to cut the stems?" 

You beam at him, a shining smile that makes his chest feel fizzy, a can of soda on a rollercoaster as the sound of thumping comes from the bedroom, small footsteps racing to the door. 

"Think she heard you," you say. You smile, take the vase, and kiss his cheek in a silent thank you. 

Sure enough, Junie appears down the hall and Eddie's barely taken three steps when she's laughing and pawing at his legs, having raced all the way.

"Eddie," she cheers, arms up in the universal sign for 'grab me before I start screaming'.

He's more than happy to get his hands under her arms and pull her to his chest, your mini me breathing hard as she settles. Her hand presses into his collarbone, her lips puckered up for a kiss. He doesn't usually kiss her, doesn't really know where the line is, but denying her feels cruel. He kisses her cheek and feels her lips press to his cheek at the same time. 

"Thank you," he coos, "thank you for the kiss, baby, I'm happy to see you too." 

"See you," she says, patting his neck. 

"How do I look? Handsome?" 

She tangles her fingers in his hair. 

"So, Uncle Wayne, does he like me?" 

Eddie leans against the countertop you're facing so he can see your face. "He's never met you." 

"Duh, but does he like me?" 

"Probably. He has a bunch of reasons to like you and none not to like you." 

"Doesn't hate me for stealing his baby boy?" 

Eddie wonders if he's going red. "No, god, he'd thank you for it. Man hasn't had a quiet night in a decade and a half." You laugh softly, fingers weaving through flowers to arrange their leaves and stalks, and he catches a flash of uncertainty as it twists your mouth. "Seriously, he'll like you. I know everybody says it 'bout everyone, but Wayne's a good man." 

"I know he's a good man, just…" You frame the flowers with your hands and step back. You smile at him to unsuccessfully hide an insecurity he can spot a mile away. "I'm not the girl people would pick for their son, you know?" 

He raises his eyebrows, feels bad and drops them. Eddie lives in a trailer park, and has done for most of his life, it's not like the people around here are prudent about love and partners: Eddie's obviously not the first guy to ever date somebody who already has a kid. He doesn't wanna brush it under the rug, though. Your worrying worries him. 

"I think you're exactly who he'd pick." He smiles at you in warning. You asked for this, sweetheart, buckle in. "Gorgeous girl with a perfect body," —you snort— "'n' a heart of gold." He pats between Junie's shoulders where she's oh so quiet in his arms, an affectionate slump over his heart. "And her pretty baby, too. I'd choose you for my kid. You know, if I was old. And I had one."

You wrap Junie up with one hand, the other placed sweetly over his shoulder. Your thumb strokes into his skin. "Thanks, Shakespeare," you say, letting your head dip down until your lips are flat to his shirt. 

He drops his head into yours. 

"Do you think he should come over for dinner?" you ask quietly. 

"What, today?" 

"It's gonna make me nervous thinking about it otherwise. What did you bring? Or maybe I can get pizza?" 

He encourages your head back, palm to the side of your head. He strokes down until his hand covers your ear and curls around the curve of your neck. Insanely, he thinks it is a privilege to get to see you upset and to get to try and fix it. 

"I can ask him, and he's not fussy. You're sure you want to do this today? I could host, you know, or we could go out." 

You shake your head, looking grim. Dread clear in your eyes, you say, "I'll obsess over it. Can you call him before I lose my nerve, please? Do you think that would be alright?" 

You ask like he genuinely might say no. He hasn't had the power to say no to you for months. 

"Yeah, sweetheart, I can call 'im." 

You offer to take Junie and it's funny because she doesn't need to be held right now and yet neither of you want to put her down. She's relaxed and Eddie doesn't see why she should have to be anywhere else but in his arms, hiking her up his chest in one arm to use the phone. He slots the receiver between his shoulder and his head and types in Wayne's number without having to look. He's typed it hundreds of times, at friend's houses, at the school nurse when his Mom's didn't work anymore, at the Hideout. Just to say, I'll be home late, but don't worry. 

He extends the invitation with a teasing tone. "You wanna come around for dinner? Old lady's asking." 

"You can't call her your old lady, son, not yet. That's a privilege you gotta earn." 

Eddie laughs down the line. "What's wrong with old lady? I'm keeping it respectful, classy, aren't I? She's making burgers." 

"You better be helping her." 

"How can I help her? I'm on the phone to you." 

"What time am I expected?" 

"Let me ask." He pulls June back up where she's slipping, mouth lifted from the phone to grab your attention. "What time are you thinking, sweetheart?" 

"It can be done whenever he wants it," you say, elbow deep in ground beef. 

"Give us an hour, okay? Don't fill up on shit." 

"Yeah, boy, I won't. Better leave me alone to wash up, or I can come in my overalls–" 

"Alright, Wayne." He hopes it sounds like 'love you'. "See you in an hour. Don't forget." 

"Yeah, 'cause I'm that old," Wayne says, followed by the sound of the phone on the hook. 

Eddie passes it to Junie where she'd been dying to have a turn. He can't let her play too long, guilty already watching you chopping and dicing and washing. He sets her up on your couch with her army of teddies and a peach juice box from Bradley's. He'd picked them up thinking they were weird, and that he'd wanted Junie to try them if she hadn't before. She seems pleased with it, back and legs straight across the pillow, head bent in a way that would give a grown up a sore neck for the foreseeable future, socked feet wiggling along to the music playing on her show. 

He returns to find you washing your hands. Eddie wants to kiss your neck but doesn't have a clue in the world if he's allowed to do that now or ever, so he folds his arms over yours like a hug. 

"Can I get some of that?" 

You squirt dish soap into his palm. He's expecting grumbling and complaining at his weird position, but you say nothing, only laugh. You wash his hands for him, thumb rubbing down the small hills of his fingers until he has to wash off the suds, squishing you to the countertop edge with a feigned apology. 

You squeal with laughter. "Get off," you plead. 

"I'm so tired, suddenly, I don't know what it is." 

"Eddie," you moan, well and truly sandwiched under his weight. 

He pecks your neck and stands properly in search of a hand towel to dry off your dripping hands. He towels his, passes it to you, and uses his dry hands to cradle your face. He thinks you look beautiful but admittedly very tired, and lowers his voice to an adoring murmur.

"You can go sit down, if you want to." 

"Oh, no, there's too much to do," you say, and though you're denying him, your face lists heavily into one of his hands. You close your eyes for a moment before looking up at him through your lashes. "I can do it." 

"I know you can do it, I just don't want you to have to." 

He pulls you closer, his elbows pushed into your shoulders. 

"I'm really good at making burgers. S'like, my signature dish. That's why I got stuff for burgers, 'cause I wanted to cook tonight." 

You still don't budge. 

"Go on," he murmurs, "go get your cuddles." 

Junie, upon realising Eddie would be sleeping in your bed, has taken to climbing on top of him and insisting she get to stay in the big bed. She's hogging him, and it's clear you're not unaffected. Not jealous, not bitter, but missing your baby. 

You're in mild withdrawals, and it makes sense. After all, she gets her extreme need for affection from you. 

"You're sure?" you ask, frowning softly. 

"Yes," he says, laughing and pushing you away gently, "trust me, sweetheart, I can make dinner. You gotta take my flower for June, though." He picks it up off of the counter and twirls it under your chin. "I forgot all about it, you distracted me." 

You take the flower but hesitate in front of him. 

"Kiss?" you ask, eyebrows popped up. 

He bends backward, hand coming up to cover his mouth. "You have it bad, huh?"  

"Forget I asked," you faux-threaten, spinning on your heel to leave. 

Eddie follows, spins you right back around with a hushed, "Where do you think you're going?" and kisses you, hand sliding up your cheek. 

One kiss turns to two, your lips parting slightly under the pressure. He grins and goes in for a third. 

—

You don't sit down for long. You steal a Junebug cuddle, in which she insists on sharing her juice box with you and kisses you upwards of twenty times. You giggle giddily, the petals of the flower you've tucked behind her ear almost blinding you with each one. They're drooly and gross and lovely to begin with, less wet when you leave to find something for her to wear. 

The dress she wears now is dirty from daycare, and the applesauce, crackers, and peanut butter you'd given her earlier stain the neck. You pick out a simple matching set of not-quite pyjamas. You want Wayne to know you dress her well, but you'd feel bad if she had to suffer any longer in clothes with buttons and zips.

Once she's changed, she's somehow even happier than she was. Now she's settled into daycare and your routine, she's over the moon all the time. She's finally settled in, and you have Eddie to thank for a good chunk of it. He's a great part of her routine, another person who wants to love and dote on her. While you know you'd been doing a great job by yourself, any extra love at all is welcome. You could love him for how he loves her and nothing else, only there's a thousand other things about him to love. 

Like his singing. You can hear him humming, then riffing, spatula scratching the frying pan as he rocks out to a song you can't hear. You're playing with Junie's toes, as strange as it sounds, wiggling and tickling the sole of her feet. 

"Mommy?" she says breezily.

"What?" you ask, leaning to her eye level, fluffy bed socks in hand. 

"Special treats for dinner?"

You can't believe the improvements in her speech, though it's natural, and it would've happened eventually. And it blows your mind because you'd known she was in there, she's a great listener and she's so patient for a toddler, but knowing she's having these thoughts and then having her voicing them now is something else completely. It's amazing. 

You tuck the sock under her pant leg and beam at her. "Yeah, baby, we're having special treats after dinner. Eddie's making burgers with the cheese," you hum, offering your open hand for her to hold.  "And… his Uncle Wayne is coming by for dinner. So we're gonna meet him and say hi to him and be super nice, okay?" 

"Okay. What's for treats?" 

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Eddie. Should we go ask him?" 

She nods enthusiastically and slides off of the sofa, gand in yours. She walks with a wobbly confidence into the kitchen, where the smell of searing hamburgers and black pepper is cloying. 

Eddie turns with the spatula, slouched with one elbow on the counter. He perks up when he sees Junie in her fresh clothes. 

"Hey, bub, look at you!" 

"She has something to ask you." 

Eddie crouches down. "Anything. What do you want to ask me, Junie?" 

"What's for," —her voice is small, high-pitched and clumsy but sweet— "... have for…" 

"Dessert," you whisper. "For treats." 

"What's for treats?" she asks, smiling. 

You sigh with pride and Eddie mirrors your expression. "Well," he says, reaching out to readjust the flower peaking in front of her hair, "I brought two things, cherry ice pops and cheesecake." 

"Oh," Junie says, "my gosh." 

You leave them in their love bubble and change into your nice (bleach stained, agonisingly bleach stained) jeans, rather than meet Wayne in your waitressing skirt and blouse. Eddie wolf whistles as soon as you emerge, Junie now happily perched on his hip as he moves the burgers onto a plate to wait in the oven. Junie turns and drops the slice of cheese she was holding, startled at the noise. 

"Is this awful?" you ask, pointing to the thin line of bleach across your thigh. 

"'This' is killer," Eddie says. 

"No, but can you see the bleach?" 

"Not really. If you need new jeans, we can go get some."  

The I can't afford it begs to be said, though you know exactly what he'll say in response. 

"Not right now," he amends. "They look fine, okay? He won't notice. I had my first tattoo for three weeks before he saw it." 

You lean over the sink to open the window and let some clean air in. Eddie goes back to the plate, and Junie drops another slice of cheese. 

The knock at the door startles you. You're unprepared, terrified, and you haven't wiped down the dinner table yet. Eddie sees your panic and shakes his head at you. 

"It's fine. You want me to answer?" 

"We should both answer," you say, with a confidence you are not feeling. 

You hold your hands out for Junie. She's a safety blanket. 

Please like me, you think, letting Eddie pull you to the door. 

—

You have nice shoulders. Eddie feels like he's had this thought before. Often, he looks at you, and he finds something new to catch onto and to obsess about. This hasn't changed in the few days you've been together. It's gotten worse. 

He can see the top of Junie's head against your shoulder but not her sleeping face. You sway her from side to side and he can see you arms shaking with the effort it takes to have been holding her for this long, your quiet humming now a whisper of sounds. The gentle thudding of your hand against the bottom of her spine stops, and you turn to look at him, a question in your eyes. 

He nods. Looking good. 

You ease her down into her toddler bed and spend some time pulling the blankets over her legs, tucking her small army of teddies in beside her. 

Finger to your lips, you and Eddie creep out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen. There's nothing to clean. His Uncle Wayne is a stickler who couldn't not help clean up. 

Wayne had definitely liked you. You're still glowing with it. It had been a great time, not nearly as awkward as you'd feared, and Eddie's feeling pretty content right now. You waste no time collapsing on the couch. A sippy cup under your hip, cushions in disarray at your head. Eddie grabs the half of the cheesecake that's left and two spoons and sits right next to you, thigh to thigh, no need for friendly space anymore. He forces the spoon into your hand, slides the cheesecake onto your thigh, and moves the sippy cup out of the way. 

"My arms are too tired," you mumble, dropping back into the cushions. Junie had piled them all up behind Wayne's head. She was extra, extra nice. 

"Want me to feed you? I can baby bird you." 

"Ew. That image never gets any less disgusting, Eddie." 

It's been Eddie all day. What's a guy gotta do to get a 'handsome'? A 'baby'? 

He laughs around a spoonful of cheesecake and twists his foot behind your calf, linking your legs. You've managed to finally get cable, and an episode of Jeopardy plays on mute across the room. There are toys everywhere, the kind of mess that you'll spend three hours putting right, sorting and spritzing and wiping with Junie behind you pulling things back out. 

Eddie's already got the clothes here to stay, and Wayne had said, "See you tomorrow," when he left, but Eddie asks anyway. 

"Can I stay over?" 

You sit up to drop your face heavily into his shoulder.

"Please, handsome. Don't want you to go home." 

There's the pet name he'd been searching for. A warmth climbs all over, a twinge in his stomach. He heaps cheesecake onto your spoon and presses the handle into your fingers. You eat it slowly, tip of your tongue making an unexpected appearance when a crumb sticks to your lip. 

You make a sound that should probably be illegal and drop the spoon into the cheesecake casing, freeing your arm to wrap it around his chest. You nuzzle your nose into his skin, sniffing. 

He laughs from happiness and nothing else, making good work of the cheesecake while you doze. He's not an animal, leaving some for you and June if you want more tomorrow, but he isn't temperate, either. He's thinking this might be the perfect life, you and your baby, Uncle Wayne laughing at your kitchen table, Junie in the high chair beside him trying to make a babbling conversation. She'd managed a couple of proper words and an impressive sentence, much better at answering than asking but trying either way. 

"You're a ringer for your mom, kid, you look like twins," he'd said softly. 

"Ring-ring," she'd said happily, excited to have understood. She'd offered her hand to him, pinky and thumb stuck out. 

Wayne, grinning, had answered the phone. 

"June loved Wayne," Eddie says conversationally.

"Junie loves everybody," you say through a yawn, hand soothing up and down his side greedily. "Not like she loves me and you, but she does. She keeps hugging all the other babies at daycare and they don't know how to stop her." 

"What? You've never told me that." 

"I didn't know 'till this morning." Your fingers find and breach the hem of his shirt, pads tracing to the small of his back. 

"God, you're cuddly tonight. Here, let me–" He moves the cheesecake. "Come here." 

You groan, "No, this is fine." 

"Sit on my lap, loser." 

"I'm heavy." 

True or not, Eddie wants you in his lap, and he's selfish, pulling at you like a kid not getting his way. You end up flopping over his lap to stop him, curled into an uncomfortable but darling position. He gets his hand behind your ear and turns your face, wanting to see your eyes and your nose and your lips. 

Your eyes are bright in the lighting. 

"Wayne liked you," he says, stroking down the shell of your ear with his thumb. 

"I can see why you're so kind," you say. 

You smile at each other. 

"I don't know what I did." 

Eddie leans down, tilts his head to line up with yours, his eyes flicking between the lightness softening your gaze or the curve of your top lip, calling him in like a siren. "What did you do?" he murmurs. 

"To get so lucky," you say. "I don't know. I must have been a saint, in a past life." 

"A past life," he repeats. 

Your eyes find his and narrow. He knows where you're looking, that little dot of dark hiding beneath his eyelashes. You move over his lap carefully, hands behind his neck to anchor yourself. Your thighs against his thighs, ankles locking him in, your hands always so gentle where they play in his hair. 

He thinks there's a kind of melancholy to moments like this. He panics, in his way, in his head, because there are no guarantees. This perfect night with a perfect girl could be it. There are many bad things that could happen, unspeakable, and he gets this trip in his chest like a fuse shorting out. 

He should slow down and tell you what he feels. How you're his and he's the lucky one, goddamn, he's never had luck like this in his life. 

He smooths his thumb across your lips and stops at the corner, momentarily ashamed of his big, clumsy hand, and permanently in awe of your softness, your goodness, how it lines every feature on your brilliant face. 

You lean in for a kiss. 

Your lips are parted, and he thinks you might've read his mind, the hunger and the fear he'd felt, the heart-pounding reverence, that split second of wanting to say something he shouldn't yet. It feels like you read his mind; your lips kiss and kiss and your hands tremble minutely behind his head. The heat of your tongue shocks him like the first drag, has his hand bawling in the fabric of your shirt, a low sigh smothered by your attention. 

Your nose touches his. In the days since his confession you've endured a frankly overzealous amount of his kissing. He's had you in bed, in the kitchen, just outside the front door. Some heavy handed, some sweeter than sugar, none ever for anything but kisses. Your ardency surprises and excites him — his pulse is a freight train, pounding in his veins as you yield. Your head tips back slow, your gasping breaths a golden sound he endeavours to keep forever. 

When you lay back, it's quietly, hand at his front and encouraging you to lay with him. He props himself up on his side, one hand feeling for your upper arm, wishing you'd worn something with shorter sleeves so he could feel your skin. The other covers the column of your throat. He can feel your too-fast breathing in his palm, your shallow gasps. 

Your eyes close again as he ducks in. He rubs a line with the tip of his nose next to yours, the heat emanating off of your skin thickening the air. Or, that's what it feels like. 

"Kiss me," you say under your breath. This close, you might as well have shouted it. 

He kisses you until not one of you can breathe properly, and a little after that, too. His thumb ghosts under the curve of your breast and he can feel the tightness of the question between you, a string pulled taut by your hand and his. 

"Sweetheart," he says, trying to pour all of his affection and something deeper into the word, "do you want to…" 

"What?" you ask. 

He lifts his head off of yours and waits. You open your eyes in confusion, though that confusion quickly turns when you hear what he's hearing. 

Movement. Little feet. 

He pulls his weight off of you and helps you up, brushing down your hair, your hot cheeks. You move away from his hand without malice, and when he turns he's not at all surprised to see baby Junie in her pyjamas, the ear of a teddy clasped in a small fist. 

You press your arm to his. 

"Sorry," you whisper. 

He turns to you, blinks three times quick. "Baby, it doesn't matter." It's unfortunate, but not as unfortunate as your mortified expression. He holds his hand out to Junie where she's meandering toward you, exhausted steps unsafe but determined.

She reaches his knees, and Eddie helps her up to sit between you both, his arm behind her head. 

You stroke her hair. The look you give him is pensive and loving at once. You lift your chin, and he presses a saccharine, chaste kiss against your kiss bitten lips. 

Junie falls asleep again near immediately. Eddie finds your hand in the mess of limbs and gives it a good squeeze. 

"Bed?" he asks. 

You slouch down. "In a minute?" 

He slouches down with you, letting his temple drop against yours over Junie's sleeping figure. 

"Whatever you want." 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! im so happy they’re together this is my fave part of every fic, aimless adoration <3 im not sure what to write for part sis so I’d love to hear what you want to see there, thanks so much

[hobiebrownbrowser]

Breed Me

🔞No Kids Allowed🔞

Miguel O'Hara x FEM!reader

Summary: Miguel comes back after a long night shift.

Translations : "lo estás haciendo tan bien para mí." = "You're doing so well for me."

You looked back to the sound of the front door clicking open, A smile on your face as you welcomed your husband back from his night shift. You were greeted with a heavy sigh, A finger under your chin as Miguel kisses your forehead.

You returned the kiss, Your eyes peering into his as he gives you a tired loving smile.

"Had to work a double tonight." You hummed, listening to his words as you prepare the dinner table. You made sure everything was in the right place, Taking off your apron and walking towards the tired man who'd slouched down on the couch.

You sat beside him, His eyes closed as he enjoys the silence you'd had to interrupt.

"Rough night Miggy?" You gently poked his cheek, A groan making you pull back. You watched his eyes flutter open, A gasp falling from your lips as he wrapped his arm around you, Pulling you closer to his figure.

You melt into his touch, placing soft kisses all over his face, His strong arms moving you onto his lap. A sigh leaving you as his lips captured yours, desperation in his eyes as he wraps his arms around your waist.

A groan being heard as you gently pull on his bottom lip with your teeth,You usher him for more, shortly pulling away to regain the air that had been stolen from you.

A quiver escaping you as he assaults your neck in kisses. His name leaving your throat as he ripped open your shirt, tugging it off your body, His fingertips digging into your thighs as he hosts you up into the air, walking towards the bedroom.

He tossed you onto the bed, His shirt immediately stripped away as he hovered atop of you. Your hands traveled downwards, tugging at the rim of his belt, Eager for him to take the leather off.

"Patience cariño." You groaned but complied, the last bit of your clothes vanishing. He pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, Your pretty legs spread wide for him. He took in the sight, A hitched breath departing from him as he firmly grips your hips.

His head buried between your legs, Tasting every inch of you. He synced every lick with your whines, Your sweet lingering taste on the tip of his tongue, eating you out until you were left pleading for something more.

He slapped your dripping cunt, hushing you up by letting you taste yourself. His fingers slipping into you with ease, Draining every ounce of begging you had left, His voice raspy as he whispers the filthiest things in your ear, mocking how badly you wanted him.

You could feel every inch of his rough calloused fingers, how they moved in a certain rhythm to abuse that spongy part inside of you, Molding your gorgeous pussy perfectly for him.

He watched as you became undone, The flame in his eyes growing as he felt your arousal seeping down his knuckles, Your orgasm approaching as he feels you clench tightly around him.

He denied you release, your cries escalating as you beg for him to let you cum. His pants being the last clothing he'd had on, you could see how tight they were, You pulled them down once he'd unbuckled his belt. His dick pulsating in your hand, you could see feel every vein, How much pre-cum the slit of his cock oozed out.

You pushed him to the side, Your eyes still fixated on his cock. You kissed his tip, trailing the base with your tongue. Taking in his scent before engulfing what you could into your mouth, stroking the rest with the palm of your hands.

Your tongue lapping up any pre-cum that fell between your lips, Gagging every time the tip of his dick assaulted the back of your throat, Swallowing his groans once you'd found that sensitive nerve.

"Fuck...lo estás haciendo tan bien para mí." His breathy moans stirred the butterflies in your abdomen, his hips fucking into your mouth as you resist the temptation to gag. Tears streaming down your cheeks as you dig your nails into his thighs.

You were left gasping for air, your tongue hanging out as Miguel praises you, telling how well you took him. Saliva tickling down your chin as you took him back into your mouth.

The slurping sounds you produced were lewd, Miguel's eyes disappearing from your sight as you watch his chest heave heavily. He was going to cum, the anticipation killing you as you cup his balls into your hands, sending him over the edge as he quivers out your name.

Your head bobbing one last time before something thick coated every crevice of your mouth, You swallowed it all, licking the rest they fell from your lips. You propped yourself on your knees, your stance being interrupted as Miguel pulls you down.

He placed you on top of him, A moan erupting from your throat as you grind your hips along his cock. Head still in the clouds from your oral ecstasy, The sound of your cunt squelching, telling him just how eager you were.

A shiver running down your spine as you paint the base of his cock a pearl white color, A loud whimper emitting from you as the butterflies in your stomach erupted suddenly.

Your arousal drowning his cock in need, continuing to bottom him into you until you'd felt all of him, Your pussy clasping around him uncontrollably, Your back arching once he brushed over your sweet spot.

Your control overbearing as you slow down your movements, Your eyes captivated on where you both were connected, Taking your time sliding him in and out of you. Your hands resting on his chest as he fucks into you, showing signs of impatience.

You quickly pull him out, torturing the both of you as you slide back down, doing the same motion until Miguel took full control, slamming you back down on his swollen cock, His nails digging into your hips as he downgraded you.

Your nails doing the same to hi chest as he ravages your pussy, Your strength simply vanishing once he found that aching pinpoint, A shaky whimper coming from you as he switches the position.

Your hips in the air as he holds your face down against the pillows with the palm of his hand, His thumb between your lips as he ruts into you. The pace making the bubble in your stomach snapping harshly.

The sound of skin slapping skin filling the room as you cum for a second time, Your toes curling into the bedsheets as you feel his cock start to thicken. You pleaded for his cum, your legs spreading wider as you push back against him. Your grip tightening on the sheets as you were in euphoria.

Your cries breaking as he fucks into you with such roughness, the bed creaking violently below the both of you as he chases his own orgasm. His hips snapping to a halt, A lousy moan faltering from you as he fills the inside of your pussy with his semen. His hips jolting once more as you purposely clench around him, Grinding on his cock.

You felt full, Your whines turning into screams as he plunges back into you, Holding you down and using you the way he wanted.

Saliva drenched the pillowcases below you, Your vision blurry as you were completely worn out. Your head snapping back as he weighed his body atop of yours, The headboard of the bed banging against the wall as he used you the way he pleased.

Groans traversing through your ears as he rubs your clitoris, Every ounce of you detaching from reality as he fucks you senseless, His hand wrapped around your neck as he whispers in your ear.

"Such a good slut." You whined as you melted in his grasp, his voice going straight down towards your overstimulated cunt. His cock swelling inside of you again, aching a third orgasm out of you as he assaulted your desired spot once more.

Your mouth agape as you coat his cock for a third time. His thrusts becoming inhuman as he floods your insides with his cum, the thick substance dripping down your thighs as he pulls out only to thrust back in, hearing your pussy squelch with every drop of his thick semen inside of you.

His hands firmly cupped your ass, Placing a kiss on your nape as he lowers his head next to your ear.

"You can take a few more rounds right baby?"

[dazed-and-confused23]

Blood on My Hands

Summary. "If you ever look at a man the same way you look at me, I'll kill him and fuck you with his blood on my hands."

*I saw this on tik tok and really liked it. I'm not sure where it's from, so credit where credit is due*

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings! Dark themes! Blood! Death! Dubcon? Smut. It's not a happy relationship. Cooper Howard is a possessive bastard.

The blood on his hands is still warm when Cooper finds you. He reaches out, one stained hand catching your chin and angling you up to face him. He has blood smeared across his face, and you watch with baited breath as it slides down to seep into the stained collar of his shirt. You catch his gaze and swallow harshly at seeing the disappointment lingering with in.

"Now why in the world did ya have to go and make me do this, Sweetheart? All you had to do was keep your pretty little head down," Cooper drawls, and admonishment drips from his accent. He sighs, like the death of the two men back in the store was all your fault.

"I don't like bein' a violent man, Sugar. But you sure know how to make me act like one."

That's a lie, and everyone plus the dead men know it. Cooper Howard thrived on violence and the blood of other men. You just gave him an excuse to act on it. He ignores the trembling apology that you spill and instead trails his hand down your face until he can wrap his fingers around your throat. Cooper gives you a considering look, as if he doesn't already know what he's going to do to you.

"I think," Cooper begins and lets you go, smirking at the boody hand print he leaves behind around your neck, "That you need another lesson on how to act. So how 'bout you undress for me, Sweetheart."

You don't want to, but you know an order when you hear one. You swallow and try to ignore the way that the two dead men stare at you with empty eyes. Cooper lopes away and plops in a nearby chair, watching you undress under the shadow of his hat. He licks his lips at the way you shake and tremble, looking pale and terrified.

The ghoul spreads his legs, popping the button of his jeans and stroking his cock. He's been hard for a while, and the tip leaks thick precum. Cooper waves you over once you're completely undressed, and he spins you around, forcing you to face the carnage he'd wrought over nothing.

Cooper wraps an arm around your hips, fingers dipping between your legs and playing with your clit. Despite your reluctance, your body likes the way the ghoul touches you, and it's not long before you're embarrassingly wet. A shout tears from your throat when Cooper tugs you back, leading you down to sit on his cock.

His length is thick and drags along your walls, and Cooper fucks you like a man posessed. Pleasurable pain zings up your spine, and the ghoul pulls you back to rest against his chest, hooking his chin over your shoulder so that he can press a kiss to your cheek. His hand, the one still stained with cooling blood, finds your throat again, and Cooper squeezes in warning.

"Don't look away, baby," the ghoul snarls against your cheek, "their blood is on my hands because of you."

[en-dazedafterdark]

I see you're open for hard hours? :]

how abt a threesome with harddom!hee + softdom!won ?

my heewon fic staring at me from my wips

warnings: overstimulation, daddy kink, unprotected sex honestly this isn’t even half as filthy as i want it to be

i feel like heeseung and jungwon would be the perfect duo cause heeseung would absolutely ruin you and leave you in tears from being overstimulated while jungwon brushes your hair and wipes your tears away.

jungwon is in awe as he watches you, sobbing and crying from heeseung's actions, "it's okay princess, you're doing so well." he whispers, running his hand through your hair and pulling out the hair tie that held your hair up.

heeseung smirks as he watches your thighs shake from how close you are to cumming, your second time, he'd been edging you for what felt like hours now, bringing you close and then letting you go, "you can cum, baby, come on, do it, you can cum on daddy's cock."

you sob in relief as you let yourself fall over the edge, clenching around heeseung's cock, your legs shaking and trembling as you try and catch your breath. you grab at jungwon’s arm as heeseung's thrusts grow faster and more erratic, signaling that he's close too.

“fuck princess, you feel so good. such a good little whore for daddy."

you let out a broken whimper and sob as heeseung fucks you through your orgasm, the overstimulation bordering painful, tears leaking from your eyes, "p-please," you beg, not even sure what you're begging for.

jungwon wipes your tears away before bringing his hands to your nipples, pinching and twisting them lightly, making you whimper and sob as you look up at him with glassy, tear-filled eyes, "does that feel good princess?"

you nod, biting your lip as you look back up at heeseung who is still fucking you, hard and fast, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips.

your skin is littered with dark bruises and hickeys, making you look thoroughly ruined.

jungwon moves closer to your head and leans down, brushing your hair out of your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead, "so pretty." he mumbles, leaning forward and pressing a light kiss to your lips.

you moan into the kiss, your hands reaching out to wrap around his neck and pull him closer. he pushes your hair away from your face gently, wiping the tears that stain your cheeks.

heeseung moans loudly as his thrusts grow erratic, his hips stuttering, he grabs your chin, pulling your face away from jungwon's and making you look up at him. his hand trails down to your neck and he squeezes gently, watching your eyes roll back as your breath hitches.

"gonna cum," heeseung says through gritted teeth, "you gonna cum again for me baby?"

you whimper and nod, unable to form words as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge again.

heeseung's fingers tighten around your neck, cutting off your air supply, "cum." he commands, and just like that, you do, you cum so hard, you swear you see stars.

your whole body shakes as you cry out, clenching around heeseung's cock as it spills into you.

"that's it baby, such a good little slut, taking all of daddy's cum."

you feel completely spent, your eyes barely able to stay open as heeseung pulls out of you, your hole clenching around nothing as you whimper, feeling the cum drip down your thigh.

jungwon is next to you instantly, running his fingers along your slit, scooping some of heeseung's cum and bringing his fingers up to your mouth, "open." he commands.

you open your mouth obediently, allowing him to slip his fingers inside, coating your tongue with the mixture of both of their cum. you whimper as he pushes his fingers further down your throat, making you gag around them.

"that's it baby, taste it," jungwon says, his voice laced with arousal as he watches you, "you're so good for us."

you can't help but smile as jungwon pulls his fingers out of your mouth, "thank you," you say softly, your voice hoarse and broken.

"let's get you cleaned up, okay princess?" jungwon says, his voice gentle and sweet as he kisses a trail down your body, making you shiver and whine, "you did so well, love."

he settles himself between your thighs, kissing and licking them clean, making you whimper and arch your back, "p-please, no more." you say, your voice wavering.

heeseung laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "you can do it, baby, you've been so good for us, come on."

you shake your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as jungwon's tongue laps at your folds, licking the mix of your and heeseung's cum, "please." you beg.

jungwon ignores your pleas, instead, he pushes a finger inside of you, making you gasp and moan, your back arching off the bed as he pumps it in and out, curling it against your walls.

"look at you," heeseung coos, "such a dirty little whore, you can't get enough can you?"

you sob and shake your head, trying to pull away from jungwon, "it's too much." you whimper, tears rolling down your cheeks.

"you can take it, baby, just a little more, i know you can." jungwon encourages, adding another finger and making you cry out.

you try to push him away, but heeseung holds your arms above your head, gripping them tightly, "take it." he commands.

jungwon's tongue swirls around your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, "just like that, princess, just a little more, can you do that for us? can you cum one more time for us?"

you can't stop the tears from falling, the way heeseung's grip on your arms tightens and how jungwon's tongue is swirling around your clit has you right on the edge, "p-please, can i cum, please?"

heeseung hums in response, "go ahead, princess, cum for us."

your back arches off the bed, your thighs trembling and shaking, and with one last cry, you cum, so hard that you feel the breath knocked out of you.

you can barely hear jungwon's soft praises or heeseung's gentle kisses as they hold you, whispering how proud they are of you, how gorgeous you look and what a good girl you are for them.

[sunnyswide]

König x Delulu Virgin reader :(

NSFW!! MDNI!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Contains SEXUAL CONTENT!!!

"You're a fucking tease y'know that?" Konig slams the door behind him, locking both of you in the small broom closet.

You strain your neck just to look up at him. He looked..angry? It's out of character for him when he's not on the field but you couldn't care less. Stuffed in a closet with the hottest dude you knew on base, or better yet probably the whole world. Who's to complain?

"wh-what did I do??" You press your hands against his chest, bringing minimal distance between your bodies. But honestly, you just hope he'd grab them and push you against the wall- :)

"Don't act fucking dumb Liébe" He snapped. Stepping closer to you only for you to-well you guessed it-be straight against the wall.

"You didn't think I would notice? All dolled up for who? Couldn't last 2 hours without the attention?"

His arm against the wall, and his other creeping harsh circles on your sundress.

"m'came back for a visit" you muttered against his chest which seemed ever closer.

He leaned down to your ear, his messy curls brushing against your flushed cheeks, "Who."

"You!" You whine out.

"..."

He stayed silent for a few seconds, debating whether you were playing him or you really meant it.

"richtige Antwort" (correct answer)

He let go of your waist, placing his gloved fingers on the tip of your chin. "Du gehörst mir" (You belong to me)

"Kö.."

His lips pressed gently on yours, his left hand lifting your pretty sundress up. To you, he looked insatiable, slipping off your thin shoulder straps, nipping at the sensitive skin around your supple breast.

You limped against the wall, searching for something to grip on- to let the tension ease. His hand reached up, tangling your fingers in his as he led you to his messy hair. You complied, grabbing a fistful of his curly locks causing him to bite harder on your hardening buds.

The room was filled with your adorable moans, trying oh so hard to keep your voice down.

"I want to hear you.."

He let go of your breast, making a popping sound with his mouth

"I want to hear you scream"

His stare was cold, almost like he was threatening you.

But maybe. He was.

You watched in shameful anticipation but awkward nervousness as he quickly dealt with the buckle of his belt, making a clink as it dropped. His hard membrane was blatantly obvious, with his swollen tip peeking out the top of his boxers. You look up at him, his eyes frigid.. dead.. serious, it's as if he's looking down on you. But you couldn't have been more wrong, in his head was the thought of mercilessly fucking your brains out, then showering you in kisses and a ring on that finger the next time your family sees you. Which was in 1 week.

You reach your hand out, to free his aching..throbbing.. monster of a Dick but he stopped you halfway

"Maus.. don't worry, you dont have to do anything"

He whispered, shifting his cock out agonizingly slow.

"Let me.. make you feel good Schatz"

You hiccuped, letting your hands slide down to the side of your thighs. Watching him stroke his dick, Lathering the thin layer of pre-cum over his shaft.

"Will..it fit..?"

He lifts your thigh up, exposing the slick accumulating all over your folds, dripping down your thighs.

He hummed in amusement, sinking his fingers into you.

"Ko..! Will it?" Your eyes already welling up with tears as he stimulates your cunt. His fingers spreading apart, unknowingly to you, he was generously preparing you for the Fucking of your lifetime.

He presses gentle kisses to your lips, positioning his tip between your folds, gradually pushing his massive self into your pretty puffy virgin pussy <3

You place your hands at his shoulders, muffling your hiccuped moans in his burly chest, feeling the incredible stretch of his Cock, every vein budging against your tight walls.

He grunts, forcing himself deeper as he finally bottoms out, a creamy white ring already forming at the base.

It was embarrassing to admit but you already felt yourself going over the edge as he thrusted himself deeper into you. Hitting spots your tiny little fingers couldn't imagine. Your moans turn into bitter cries and uncontrolled sobs as he begins pounding into you, his hand grabbing your other thigh, lifting you against the wall- letting him fuck you at a new angle. The sounds of your pussy, overstimulated, overwhelmed, and overused filled the room with gushing noises as his meaty dick continued ramming upwards at your cervix. You swore you lost consciousness a handful of times but awoken to the waves of pleasure being shoved into your womb. His weeping Cock pumping load after load, too pussydrunk to hear your soft pleads...begging him to stop. How your legs tremble over the bend of his arm, growing numb.

Finally as you seem to reach your last organism of the day..

The smell of morning rain stiffens you awake. You jolt up from your bed, sweat slick on your forehead and a wet sensation in your panties.

It was all just a dream. "FUCK!"

"You okay?" Konig peaks in to the room to look at your flustered self

:(

-im sorry guys

[cobrabobra]

"The beginning"

Carl Grimes x fem!reader

So, I never wrote anything for a fem!reader but I was in a mood to try something new. This contains: unprotected sex, breeding kink, a bit of degradation (words like whore and slut)

"Come on, Judy" (Y/N) grunted as she picked up the little girl. "Michonne's gonna take care of you now, okay?" she passed the baby to her stepmom.

Judith snuggled into Michonne's neck, her little arms clenching at the woman's shirt. Grimes girl was very sleepy, she'd been playing with her brother's girlfriend all day, she yawned as Michonne kissed her forehead and went upstairs.

"I think I'd make a great mom" she said as she turned to face Carl. She spoke confidently, hands on her hips, chin raised high. "And you'd make a great dad" a cute smile appeared on her face.

"You'd like that?" He asked, looking straight into her eyes.

"Like what?" She frowned, clearly confused.

"Like having a baby together"

"Of course! I know it's risky, but Alexandria's safe, it makes me think we could do it. And I could say I'm carrying Badass Carl's baby" her cute laugh made his heart warm and her words lit a fire in his abdomen.

He couldn't quite explain it, but the fought of (Y/N) being round with his baby, carrying his child under her heart, it made him think of how he would've had to fill her pussy to the brim with his seed to make this idea reality.

He tried to contain himself, but fuck, if the fought of his girlfriend's pretty face covered with tears as he came inside her for the nth time, made his cock hard.

"You okay? I was just joki-" she became worried when Carl's expression changed and his body tensed up.

He raised his head and their eyes met, his gaze predatory, hungry almost, like a wolf looking at it's dinner. Fuck, maybe he'd make (Y/N) his dinner, stretch her tight hole with his tounge before pounding into her like his life depended on it.

She swallowed harshly, she knew that look, she knew what it meant. It meant that she wouldn't be able to walk or talk for a week and that idea send chills down her spine. She suddenly found herself with her legs pressed together as a familiar warmth spread through her body.

It didn't take long for Carl to throw (Y/N) onto his bed and lean over her. His hands landed on her hips, his fingers dug into the soft skin living nail imprints, his mouth on her neck as he kissed and licked the tender flesh, breathing out dirty words.

"Carl" she moaned, her hands in his long hair, tugging the brown strands, encouraging him to go further.

He made himself comfortable between her legs, a brief squeeze of her thighs was all he had time for, if course there was no time limit, but Grimes knew that if he didn't do anything he'd explode.

"I know, I can't wait too" his voice was raspy, harsh almost and it sent chills down her spine as she squeezed him between her legs.

Carl's skilled hands wasted no time and slid down her pants and underwear. Normally, he loved to tease her through her panties for a while, watch as the material got wet with her juices and lap on it like an animal. But there was no time for this now, he brought his face closer and placed a couple of soft yet a bit rushed kisses on her abdomen while his fingers pinched the inner part of her thighs.

His kisses trailed down to her, already dripping, pussy, he brushed his nose against her clit when he went down even lower, to finally taste her addictingly sweet juices.

Her sweet whimpers railed him up even more, at this point he was lapping at her cunt like a starving man, desperate to get them both off.

"God, I'm going to fucking breed you like the little whore you are" he panted, his chin wet from her slick, his pupils dialated and his cock extremely hard. He fumbled with his belt, which definitely didn't help with his erection, he let out a loud, satisfied groan when his dick finally sprung free.

"Please... " she whined, needy and eager for some action, her pussy was throbbing with arousal.

"Please what? Are you asking me to breed you? To cum inside of you until you're round with my seed? With my child?" He licked his lips, still tasting her delicious slick. His fingers trailed up, to her clit and started to tease it, circiling with his thumb.

"Yes" she only manages to say, too horny to be able to get out anything else, her mind focused on Carl on his throbbing dick that she desperately wanted inside if her.

"Then beg for it" his beautiful blue eyes met hers, his gaze predatory, so dominating she swore she could cum just from looking into his eyes. "Beg for it, slut"

"Please, Carl, please, I beg you, fuck me, breed me" she panted, she almost hit her limit, and they haven't done anything yet. She will beg if she has to, everything to get Carl to finally fuck her.

"I'm going to stuff your tight, little hole with my cum, to the fucking brim" his cock brushed against her sensitive folds, (Y/N) had to fight the urge to pull him closer and slide his dick inside.

Grimes seemed to read her mind, because he pressed against her, slowly sinking in. She bit her lips until it almost bled, her toes curled as she dug her nails into his back.

"Fucking fuck Carl!" She clenched on the tip of his cock that was slowly pushing deeper and deeper inside. Sure, maybe she didn't have a lot of experience, but, fuck Carl had the biggest cock and the best technique imaginable. And the words that came out of his mouth, the way he teased her, it was like the most beautiful, moving poem ever written by a man.

"Fuck, you're so tight, so fucking tight for me. Clenching around my cock like you never want to let me out. You want this? You want me to breed you? Come on, say it" he nipped on her neck, sucked the sensitive flesh, eager to leave marks, to show everyone who she belonged to.

Usually Grimes was cautious and delicate, giving her time to get used to the stretch, but this time, his brain infected by pictures of (Y/N) with a round belly, her breasts swollen with milk, all because of him, he simply couldn't be patient. Good thing she didn't seem to be very patient either, the way she bucked her hips, told him she wanted to be fucked hard and she wanted it now.

He started to pound her like an animal in heat, like he'd die if he didn't move. Nothing else mattered, just destroying her little pussy and filling it with his cum. It was only them, nothing else mattered, nothing else existed, the whole world stopped.

(Y/N) moaned loudly when she felt her boyfriend's mouth on her breasts, sucking, bitting on the sensitive nipples. Carl turned into a starving animal in bed and she became his sex toy, thing to play with and use.

Her fingers scratched his back until it bled, the other hand in his hair, tugging on the brown strands as she felt herself closer and closer to cumming. She clenched on his cock, like she was begging him to finish inside her.

He seemed to get the message, because only seconds later he flooded her insides with his thick, hot cum. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as she felt a familiar feeling of orgasm wash over her.

The laid in a bed for a while, trying to catch their breath and come down for their high when Carl suddenly moved.

"Carl" she whined, surprised and extra sensitive.

"Oh, you're tired already? Baby, it was only the beginning"

[cosmal]

✪ — ❛ wow i really can’t speak, huh? must be because of how pretty you look. ❜ with james pls I am begging (nicely)

simple man

summary you're so pretty james can't speak.

content james potter x fem!reader

James craves two things when he gets home. You and your kisses. Nothing else.

He's a simple man.

He locks your flat behind him and shucks off his shoes to kick them under the rack he'd built for you after you'd called him upset one night after, I've broken my drill, Jamie. I'm so stupid. He'd come over and fixed it for you and you'd made him dinner. That was the first night he'd ever kissed you.

He doesn't bother with calling your name. He can hear you humming in the kitchen. The hum of your oven and the record player in the sitting room crackling as it changes songs. He won't get into how good it smells or how much he loves your cooking or he'll be here all night.

You spin around, your socked feet twisting into the tiles, and fucking beam. "Jamie!" you cheer, holding your wooden spoon like you could use it as a microphone. "You're home!'

"Hey, lovely," he says as fond as he feels. You seem so thrilled to see him that all the fatigue he'd built up at work gets pushed down his arms and out his fingertips.

You open your arms, expecting a hug, and oil drips from the spoon and onto the floor. He doesn't have it in him to be upset because he's dying to be touched by you.

He closes the distance between you and takes you into his arms. Hugging you tightly, pushing his fingertips into the slip of skin that pokes out the bottom of your vest, hands selfish when he starts to inch them forward until he reaches the bottom of your ribs.

Your hug is even worse, you tuck your face into his neck and rub your cheek against his. He worries for your skin because he hasn't shaved lately, but you seem not to care.

Then, you're kissing him. You kiss over the length of his chin and cheek, all the while you're undoing his tie. Your fingers are sluggish as you do so, like you really want to keep kissing him. You hum into his mouth and tug the final loop free.

"So," you say once you're finished. "I'm making shepherd's pie."

James isn't listening, really, to what you're saying. He feels really guilty, but he can't stop thinking about you undoing his tie. How you're fingers felt against his hot neck. How he'd pinched your flesh and you gasped into his mouth. You seem completely unphased which he's sure only makes it worse.

"I made it all from scratch," you smile, stirring browning gravy around your pot. "Not as good as your mam, obviously. I couldn't get the mash as smooth, but I put extra carrots in how you like it."

Plus, you look adorable. You've got no pants on because it's hot, worse than last night. He thinks you're wearing a pair of boxers he was sure he'd lost, and a tiny vest that's more bare skin than it is cotton. There's a speck of oil near the neckline that he's sure you fussed over for too long, and your hair's a mess. Sticking to your neck because you're sweating. He thinks later on he might fix it for you and put a wet towel over your shoulders. He's sure you'd love it.

"Jamie?"

"Hey- what? Huh?" Jame stumbles over his words and realises he's been staring for too long at your thighs and not computing what you're saying.

"Dessert," you lilt. "Do you want ice lollies? Or I froze some watermelon earlier."

"Um," he's stuttering like a fool and can't help it. You look too pretty to ignore. "Right. Watermelon sounds nice, sweetheart."

You place your spoon on its rest and turn back to face him again. You cage him back in with your hands resting at his sides, linked behind him. Your hip presses into his. "Are you okay? You're like all zoned out."

James chuckles. Really, entirely fond. He's been caught. "Sorry, shit - sorry, lovely," he smiles. Then, he ducks his head. "God, I really can’t speak, huh? Must be because of how pretty you look."

He knows if he felt your cheeks, they'd be hot under his fingers. You duck your head down to hide how he makes you feel and his heart swells ten times worse than it already had. "James."

He lets your hip go in favour of your face, using his knuckle to encourage you to look up at him. You look a little too lovesick in James's own opinion.

"What?"

"I look gross," you say, wrinkling your nose. "I've been in the kitchen all afternoon."

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that."

He kisses you stupid to prove his point. He's a simple man.

-

fixing read more glitch

[me-and-your-husband]

Listen possessive, protective Joel is always ALWAYS a vibe

you're so right omg. he'd be a little rough but it'd ultimately be SO hot oh my god. wrote a little drabble for this 🤭

just a reminder, my asks are currently open! check out my ask rules and send me something :)

a/n: no caps is on purpose! only do this for drabbles and things

warnings: smut!, spitting, fingering, dirty talk, possessive joel, public sex, swearing, not proofread, let me know if i missed anything

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"think you could, what? make me jealous? that what you wanted, girl?" joel had your back pressed against his chest. his hands wrapped around you, hastily undoing the buttons on your pants. the back of some alley probably wasn't the safest or cleanest place, but there was some kind of primal need in him that was clawing it's way out from underneath.

his hand slid under the fabric of your panties, fingers leaving fires in their wake. when his fingers slid through your folds, you couldn't help but let out a shaky moan. "you're so fuckin' wet, honey. who's this for, hm? me? or are you drippin' for that tool who was all over you?"

you moaned as he dipped a finger into your drenched hole, head rolling back against his shoulder. when you didn't answer, his other hand grabbed your chin, turning your face to his. you looked up at him helplessly. "answer me."

"for you. only for you. i swear, Joel," you moaned as he fully sheathed his ring and middle fingers inside of you, thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

"that's what i like to hear," he said as he coaxed you higher and higher. his grip still on your chin, he commanded: "open up, pretty thing." too fixed on your release to wonder why, your jaw opened.

you felt it before you could comprehend what happened. the feeling of his spit on your tongue only adding to the pooling slick around his fingers, working in and out of you. you didn't even have to think, swallowing what he gave you.

"fuck, good girl. and you're all mine," he moaned, moving to suck marks into the flesh of your neck. "gotta make sure everyone knows who you belong to. yeah?" you could hardly nod, getting closer to your release. he could feel your cunt gripping his fingers.

moans were ripping out from your chest, obscene, dripping with need like your pussy. you attempted to silence yourself with the back of your hand, but Joel swatted it away. "don't even think about it, honey. let everyone hear what i do to you," he said into your ear.

"fuck, Joel. gonna cum, almost there, oh," you moaned, the coil in your centre getting tighter every time his fingers speared into your sopping cunt, his ministrations on your clit never ceasing.

"that's right, baby, say my name."

his name fell from your lips like a mantra as he fingered you through your orgasm. he placed soothing kisses onto the marks on your neck. "all mine. all for me," he whispered against your flesh. he pressed his lips to yours as you rode out the last of your orgasm, moaning into his mouth.

when you finished, still clenching around his fingers, he pulled them out of you with an obscene noise. bringing them up to your lips, he didn't even have to tell you before you accepted them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them to collect your juices. Joel swore he could cum right there. he groaned at the sight of you, fucked out in the back of a dirty alley, still clenched around nothing, dripping down your thighs, soaking your pants.

"let's get you home, honey. can't fuckin' wait to ruin you," he groaned. before he dragged you away, you noticed the firm tent in his jeans, pressing against your ass.

the entire QZ was gonna know that you were Joel Miller's, and he was dead set on that.

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[another-lost-mc]

do u think belphie would have a spit kink?? having sm thoughts of belphie craving to be close to mc in every way possible (i need help)

a/n: he's a little brat and I think there's a lot of things under the degradation umbrella he'd be into.

➤ belphie + degradation

0.5k words | nsfw | kink discussion (spitting, humiliation)

So, Belphie's a little shit (affectionately). He's got this really smooth manipulative streak that kind of feels dirty. You're tainted every time his pouty mouth and wide, watery eyes plead with you to give something new a try. If you like it, he likes to boast how great his ideas are and next time you shouldn't whine so much.

Of course, if you don't like something you try together, he twists things around and makes it sounds like it was your idea the whole time and it's not his fault. He's also a bit sulky after because he's pretty sure you're not going to try it again, at least not anytime soon. He spends a lot of time thinking about what went wrong and how he can change things for next time so that you might be willing to give it another shot.

Belphie likes degradation. He can be mean and selfish—he drips insults into your ear and marks your body with his filth. He's sloppy with aftercare because he wants to keep you that way. He marks you in ways he's not sure anyone else ever has (or ever will if he has a say in it). He wants you to smell like him and leave his taste in your mouth and walk around with sticky skin as a reminder of everything you do together. He wouldn't waste his energy or time doing this sort of thing with a random fuck, either. He wants you so desperately because he loves you.

So, a spit kink? It falls under that whole degradation umbrella of things he loves to do with you. With spitting specifically, it works both ways. On the rare occasion he actually gets on top, he holds your chin and forces your lips apart so he can spit in your mouth. Your eyes are watery with desire and shame but you swallow obediently anyway. Maybe you're riding him and you're nearly begging him to stop because you're overstimulated and it feels like you're about to rip apart at the seams. You're cock-drunk and you can't think straight, and you can barely speak other than little hiccupped sounds when you try to say his name. Your mouth hangs open and drool trickles slowly down your face and rolls down your chin. He swipes it away with his finger and sucks it into his mouth. "Look at you, you're so dumb on my cock you're slobbering all over yourself like a little bitch in heat. Does it feel good? It's okay, I know it does. One more for me, yeah? Then we can have a little nap."

There might be occasions when you drool on his pillow while he's railing into you from behind. His hand grips the back of your neck and pushes you down into the damp cotton, and the annoyance in his voice is genuine. "You're makin' a fucking mess all over my favourite pillow." He literally rubs your face in it, and you might whimper from embarrassment or stutter out apologies, but your body betrays you and clenches around his cock when he calls you a dirty little whore.