#as long as it's short and out of the way they're fine with it
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Icing | Bob x Reader x Rhett
Word Count: 5,300
Cross Posted on AO3
Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, improper use of icing, food is mentioned several times, blow jobs, grinding, hand jobs, overstimulation, planning for a wedding 💐 it's porn with a very vague plot
Brief Summary: This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd.
"Are you sure this is how we're supposed to do it?"
"What makes you ask that?" Bobby chirps, barely audible over the hum of the hand mixer. His eyes flick down to the cake pan held between your hands. "Seems perfectly fine to me."
The beater bumps into the edge of the bowl. Icing splatters across the countertop.
You think that might be the whisper of a swear, crossing the room.
"I don't know, it just...feels weird," but you're pulling open the door to the oven, anyhow. A plume of heat washes across your face, like the blaze of a campfire, threatening to roast you alive.
But fortunately, the only thing being baked is this tiny pan of cake batter. Locked away to its doom of inhumane temperatures until it rises to perfection.
"Honey, there are only so many ways you can bake a cake," Bob's entirely unaware of the blue icing staining his cheek as he reaches for a damp cloth. Now that you give it a squint, you reckon it might be up in his hair, too.
"Well, last I checked," reaching out to swipe at his face with your thumb, raising it to your lips. Different color. Same taste as before. "Most folks don't have to bake their own wedding cake samples."
His head turns back to the thin list of instructions, scanning over where he left off, and—oh, well, he's got blue in his hair, too.
"Hey, get a load of this," Rhett's voice echoes from the living room, socked feet thumping across the hardwood. "They're sellin' that ol' rodeo property in town."
You're not entirely sure what woke him; if it was the clatter of skillets as you clumsily withdrew them from the oven, or if it was the bickering over why Bobby continues to use the appliance as a storage unit. It had to have been something you two did; fifteen minutes is astronomically short for a Rhett nap.
Maybe he never went to sleep to begin with because he's got a newspaper in hand. Today's date sits proudly in the corner, next to his thumb; he must have picked it up from the gas station on his drive home.
"We should buy it," waggling the paper in his hand, like it'll somehow convince you and Bobby to scrounge up ninety-five grand for an arena that has been abandoned for the better half of two decades.
"Sure thing, sweetheart," Bob's mixer kicks back on, an obnoxious noise sounding through the kitchen. Surely, there have to be quieter models out there. "We'll put an offer in next week."
"Ha. Ha," Rhett's eyes roll, the newspaper falling onto the recently cleared counter, right where Bobby was saving space for the blue icing. "Funny."
His mouth opens like he's got more to say, but nothing slips past those thin lips. Soft blue eyes flicker across the counter, scanning across your rainbow assortment of icings, the sample baggies of sprinkles and candles, and the portfolio of decorative figures. Not one of the premade couples comes with a third partner, but you're not entirely sure if you want to go that route to begin with.
Rhett's nose wrinkles; lost. You've got nothing more than a shrug to offer.
"All I'm sayin' is," picking back up on the hanging conversation, he reaches out to poke his finger into an open dish of sprinkles. The ones made to look like pearls. There were more, but half got lost when you accidentally ripped the package open. "You'll have a lotta time on your hands when ya leave the Navy."
The mixer shuts off.
"Who said I was leaving the Navy?"
Rhett's lifting a pearl to his mouth, obnoxious tongue poking out to catch it. "You, last night."
"And the night before that." You add, with a nudge of your shoulder.
And the night before that one. Sometime five mornings ago. Again, last week. After the most recent deployment and the one before that. Before the engagement and way before the house was bought...actually, when has he not talked about this?
The pearl cracks so loud that you almost wonder if it chipped Rhett's tooth. His brows furrow, shifting the hunk of sugar around in his mouth. "The hell are you two doin'...?"
"We're baking our wedding cake samples," and even with Bob saying it so matter of factly, it doesn't sound right. Nothing about this picture is correct.
Rhett's head tilts to the side. Even the dark hair cascading into his face can't hide those questioning eyes.
"See?" Throwing your hand out as if Bobby hasn't noticed the puppy-dog of a man standing on the other side of the island. "Even he's confused by this."
Nobody bakes their own wedding cake samples. This is your sign to find a better bakery! Before the stakes grow even higher!
Careful, Bob pulls the mixer from the bowl, turning around to drop the beaters into the sink. "He's always confused."
"Hey!" Rhett squawks. "Ya jus' gonna say that 'n turn your back to me?"
Not a word leaves Bob's mouth, deliberately keeping his back to you and Rhett as if to drive home his unspoken point. He's doing his best to remain firm, but even so, you can see the way the corner of his lip rises with every passing second. Must be able to hear the way Rhett's rounding the corner, big hands reaching out to grab hold of bony hips.
It's a little too easy for him to force Bob to turn.
"What, can't say it to my face?" Any venom in Rhett's tone is lost in the midst of his chuckle. Amused.
Still, Bobby remains quiet, defiantly folding his arms across his chest, like that will somehow stop the smile from bursting onto his pale face. It's a losing game. Rhett knows it. You know it. He knows it. The whole world knows it.
Rhett's tilting his head, leaning close. "Say." Kiss. "It." Kiss. Bob's hand reaches out toward the counter. "To." Kiss. "My." Kiss. His finger dips into blue icing. "Face." Kiss. "Pal." Kiss.
One blink, and you nearly miss it. The swift drag of Bobby's fingertip, smearing the artificially dyed sweetness onto Rhett's thin lips. Leaves just a big enough mess for him to lean in and press his mouth to Rhett's, that soft pink tongue darting out to lick it off. It ends as quickly as it started, with Bobby turning back to the counter, already beginning to pour another pack of sprinkles into an empty container.
Rhett's wide eyes meet with yours. Bewildered.
...huh.
"What do we think of lemon?" Bobby's speaking as if nothing ever happened. Acting it, too.
You're not entirely sure what he means by that. "I'm sorry?"
"Cake flavors," holding up a non-descript packet of mix. "There's lemon in here."
Rhett's nose wrinkles, and you can't help but wonder if he's recalling the sourness of the lemon pie you two tried to put together for Bobby. Worst damn welcome home present you've ever made.
"Is there a difference to the icin'?" Rhett asks, poking at one of the bowls.
"They're all the same." Bob's head shakes, sprinkles audibly pouring out of the packet and into yet another bowl. Who's gonna wash all these dishes, anyhow?
Rhett's eyes meet with yours. Brows furrowing, like this is the most absurd thing he's ever heard. If the initial confusion hadn't already worn off, you reckon you'd be feeling the same damn thing. Who does this, and why are you just letting it happen? Is your life so devoid of joy that this is what you've allowed yourself to resort to?
Or is Bob Floyd just very, very good at convincing you to blindly follow his lead?
Idle, Rhett's hand dips into some of the icing. Slow. Flying just below the radar of Bobby's peripheral. "So why'd ya make every color?"
And your poor WSO hasn't the slightest damn clue, reaching for yet another container of sprinkles. "To see what—"
Rhett's big hand presses into Bob's pale cheek, vibrant orange icing splattering against his skin. Dragging down, down, down his neck and onto the little bit of chest peeking out from the low collar of his shirt.
You know what's going to happen before it even starts. Bobby's fingers dive into a pool of pale yellow. Smacking it into Rhett's broad chest, gets the base of his neck and all. And Rhett's reaching for the pink, dragging it across an unwitting forearm. Bob's going for green. Reaching for Rhett's scruffy jaw. Giggles bubble through the air.
Blue splatters across the kitchen floor and across your shirt.
Your white shirt. "Hey!"
"He started it!" Bob squeaks. But he's stumbling backward, bumping into you as he reaches for another bowl—ammunition for the next attack.
All Rhett can do is grin. "Did I?"
Insufferable.
Your hand darts out from your side, venturing to the counter.
Purple splatters across Bobby's clothed belly. The only spot you could reach.
"Both of you?" Bobby's squawking. Twisting. Turning until he's got his back to the sink and not you or Rhett, his vibrantly colored hands held toward the ceiling. Surrender, or preparing his next move? You're not sure yet.
God, he's a mess. Splatters of orange, pink, blue, and plain white, stretching from his nose to his belly; you think there might be a little bit of purple lurking beneath his chin. Rhett's not doing much better, green clinging to his jaw, chest decorated with a vibrant smear of yellow.
"What else are we s'pposed t' do with all this icin'?" He asks, lifting his fingers to his lips, short pink tongue darting out to lap up the sweetness clinging to his skin.
Bob's eyes roll. You wonder if he's noticed the drop of green on his lens. "Well, wearing it shouldn't even make the list!" But it's nothing compared to the icing on his neck, sickly sweet and spread thin over the thick vein that bulges from beneath his skin.
"I can think of a few ideas," muttering, entranced.
Out of his peripheral, Rhett meets your eye. The corner of his lip twitches up, fingers slipping out of his mouth with a wet 'pop' so loud that it echoes through the kitchen.
"What..." Bob swallows. Adam's apple rising and falling. Soft blues flicker between you and Rhett; must be able to read the thoughts filtering through your head. "Would that entail, exactly?"
You don't know who steps forward first. But one way or another, your sticky hands are finding their way to Bobby's chest, bracing yourself as you lean in. Rhett's so close that his hair tickles your cheek; he had a longer distance to cross than you did, and yet he's already beating you to the point. Licking a fat, wet stripe up the side of Bob's neck.
And you're in hot pursuit. Licking up the other side, trailing across that thick vein, multicolored icing greeting your taste buds. But that sugary sweetness is nearly dulled in comparison to the soft mewl that rolls out of Bobby's mouth, his head rolling backward.
"Okay..." he breathes, "that's..."
The flavor of this icing is far from your favorite; it isn't even close to the one you had in mind when contacting the bakery, but you can hardly pay it any attention. Nothing but a mild annoyance when you've got this to preoccupy your mind with. Bob's hand, working its way up your side. Rhett's soft hum, downright delighted with this predicament.
Careful, your lips press to a soft patch of skin beneath his ear, sucking lightly. Not enough to bruise his terribly sensitive skin, but still managing to leave behind a faint redness in your wake. One tiny little mark after another, spots blending amongst the vivid orange that you've yet to lick up.
This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd. Him and his sticky, heaving chest, squirming as you work lower, lower, lower. Teeth grazing across his collar, tugging on the flesh stretched thin over the bone there.
Rhett's shoulder knocks into your side, a little too broad to be squeezing himself in next to you. His hands venture to the hem of Bob's horribly stained t-shirt, yanking upward.
"The cake," Bob's panted protest is hardly one at all, "you can't...it'll burn." And yet he's obediently lifting his arms, letting Rhett pull the shirt over his head. Maybe letting it fall to the floor isn't the best idea, but you're in no position to raise even the slightest objection.
"We have time," you murmur. Lie. You don't even know if you set the timer.
Frankly, you don't care. It's just too damn easy to forget about. Letting your mouth find its way down Bob's pale chest, a thin trail of saliva marking your path as if you could possibly become lost in this familiar terrain.
But even though you've had a head start, Rhett still manages to beat you to the checkpoint, his lips wrapping around a delicate nipple. So sudden that Bob jerks beneath you, his feet stumbling. Two can play this game, though, and Rhett can only pay attention to one thing at a time.
Without the slightest warning, you sink down. Knees thunking heavily against the cold kitchen tile. They'll ache when you ultimately climb back to your feet, but that's for the future version of you to worry about. Right now, your bold hand is soothing over the heavy bulge in these sweats, feeling how Bobby twitches from the simplest touch.
"Can't believe you're already hard, Robby," teasing, your thumb swipes right beneath his tip. The wet spot forming in the thin gray material is like a reward.
"You're..." his head rolls, fingers tugging at Rhett's hair, "surprised?"
Not in the slightest.
It's Rhett who reaches for the thick elastic of Bob's waistband. Watching through thick lashes as you help pull it downso swiftly that his cock brushes your cheek as it springs up to smack against his belly. Flushed a bright ruby, a small bead of precum running down the underside of him.
"Shit," Rhett swears; it's so quiet that you can hear the way his knees creak as he settles down next to you.
And now both of you are down here, caught up in some kind of perfect synchrony, leaning forward to run your tongues up the sides of Bob's cock. Relishing in that shuddered gasp as you and Rhett meet at his head, lips brushing in what was meant to be a sloppy kiss, but it's more of a clash of tongues than anything. Broken apart by Bob's soft cock head, caught perfectly in the middle.
"You...." Bob's hand bumps into your cheek, thumb stroking the skin there, "fuck, you two are..."
Rhett's chuckle is all it takes to have Bob's sharp hips bucking forward, pushing himself right past your parted lips. Wasn't exactly next up on your itinerary, but you're rolling with it as if it was. Sucking gently, tongue swiping back and forth beneath it. Teasing while you still can.
Not a single beat is missed. With the delicate hollow of your cheeks and the lazy way Rhett mouths at the side of him, it's almost hard to believe that this wasn't choreographed earlier in the day. As if anyone could have predicted that Bob was serious about this whole 'baking cake samples' thing.
"Y' likin' that, Bobby?" Rhett hums, pausing to graze his teeth against delicate skin. "Watchin' both of us on our knees for ya?"
You're leaning back, and Rhett's moving in to take over for you. Doesn't need to use his hands, as he sucks that leaking tip into his mouth.
Bob sucks in a breath. His other hand dives into Rhett's hair, tangling in the mess of it. "How could I—mhm, not?"
All of a sudden, Rhett's sliding further down, eyes scrunching shut as Bob knocks into the back of his throat, but that's never been enough to deter him. It's a wonder he's got a gag reflex at all. You can't help but twist yourself around, a hand coming to rest on his lower back, bracing yourself as you find your way to the underside of his jaw. Air audibly puffs through his nose. Always has been sensitive here.
Sweet, too, with all of this icing to be licked up. There simply isn't another person cut out for this sort of job. The artificial flavor is far from your favorite, but you can't be inclined to share. Not when he tries to lean into it, a muffled grunt rumbling out of him.
Above you, Bob can't close his mouth. "That's...oh, that's—"
A shrill beep tears through the air. Once. Twice. Thrice.
So you did set the timer. Lucky him.
And Rhett laughs. Barely able to pull away before he chokes, swollen lips glistening as they meld with the shape of his smile. "Guess ya gotta check that, flyboy."
This is the first and likely the last time you'll see Bob Floyd check an oven with his sweats pooling around his thighs, heavy cock bouncing as he leans down to see what he's doing. Is the cake done? Or burnt? You haven't the slightest clue because Rhett's kissing at the side of your neck, and any self-control you had left dissolves in an instant.
"Shame y' didn't get more of this on ya," he's speaking into your skin, vibrating right up into your head and rattling all your thoughts off their metaphorical shelves.
The stain on your brand-new shirt is speaking otherwise. "This stuff doesn't even taste that great."
"'s good when it's on one of you," he does, unfortunately, make a really good point. The kind that lets him get away with pushing your pants down your legs, underwear and all, right here in the damn kitchen. So much for trying to break the habit of kitchen shenanigans.
You wonder if this memory will wander back into your mind the next time you invite guests over and eat in this kitchen.
Rhett's hands settle on the sides of your waist, pulling you into him as he leans backward. Knocking the back of his head against the tile can't feel good, but he doesn't react in the slightest. Too busy pulling you on top of him, your legs straddling his wide hips. They hitch upward, so strong that they push you along with it, as he shoves his shorts down his legs, cock audibly smacking against his belly, swiping against your thigh as it drifts past.
"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" Your hands brace against his chest, chasing the illusion of stability.
"Mhm," is the best he's got to offer, and he's hardly got to guide you any further. You're already beating him to the punch, grinding down against his length, letting him slip between your parted lips.
Fuck, it's been a while since you last felt his weeping cock head drag against your clit. You wonder if he can feel the way you involuntarily clench around nothing, sent into a mindless spasm from that alone.
Bobby's knees audibly knock against the floor, and you're not entirely sure where his sweats went. "You two move too damn fast."
"Maybe you're just slow," there's nothing but playfulness in your tone, albeit the slightest bit breathless. You can't help it. Not when you've got this going on between your legs. Rhett and his big cock rolling up into you, chasing the feeling of your pussy against him. Beads of precum slicken the glide, every motion punctuated by a sickly wet little noise.
"'n ya say I'm the one always givin' ya trouble," Rhett's not doing much to help his own case, but then again, you don't think that was his goal.
It's an awkward angle, with Bob sitting on his knees and Rhett laying against the floor, but he's craning his head up, tongue greeting the underside of Bob's cock. A fleeting sort of thing that only lasts a moment or three.
"You're gonna upset your shoulder if you keep doing that," Bobby hums, not making any move to stop Rhett from trying at it again, lips stubbornly wrapping around his mushroom tip.
There's a spin in your head that wasn't there before. Lightheaded over the sight before you and the sweet throb of your cunt, sliding against Rhett's shaft like you're aiming to win a first-place trophy. Hands flat against his heaving chest, trembling arms hardly keeping your body upright as your hips roll.
"Can feel ya gettin' wetter round me," Rhett's eyelashes are fluttering, and it's all he can do to keep himself from knocking his skull against the tile again. "Fuck."
"As if you're not dripping like a damn faucet," your words hitching on a gasp, the embers of a whine building in the back of your throat. Getting off to this wasn't on your list of plans, but with every soft massage of his plush tip, you're growing closer to writing it at the very top.
Rhett's back arches off the ground, legs kicking beneath you, like he can feel the heat that's flooding your lower belly. Makes it so damn hard for you to keep moving your body back and forth, hopelessly grinding back and forth, obsessed with the way he kisses your clit on every pass.
"God, you two should see yourselves," Bobby says it like he's caught up in a trance; you don't think you've seen him blink since he knelt down here.
"Enjoying the show?" Speaking through a gasp. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your eyes are rolling backward, and Rhett's twitching against you, and it's so, so much.
His hands settle on your aching thighs. Blunt nails digging into the meat of them. Does nothing to ward off the shiver that's settled into the muscle there. But his hips are rising up off the floor, and he's rutting himself into you properly now, rubbing against your poor clit over and over and over.
"Rhett—" whimpering high in your throat. Head tilting back. You're...he's...
"C'mon," in that raspy tone of his, wavering with the motion of his body, "cum on my cock."
Bob's cool hand glides up the side of your neck, and that is it.
A choked noise echoes through the kitchen and into the living room. Spasming, cumming to the drag of him against your clit alone. Clenching helplessly around nothing but air, a ripple running up your spine. Your arms crumple out from under you. Stars sparkle behind your eyelids like the night sky. Falling into a messy heap on Rhett's chest, helpless as his cock keeps rubbing against your dripping cunt.
"Ah—Rhett!" Jolting. Oversensitive. And it's all you can do to slide off of him, letting gravity drag you down to his side instead, a leg lazily sprawled overtop his thigh. You don't know if he's laughing or if you're hearing the hammer of your heart beating away in your ears.
"Awful quick," Bob's eyes flick to you, hardly able to conceal the playful glint in them.
You ought to give him trouble for such a comment, but your head is still spinning like it's about to float up into the clouds. The best you can do is to swipe out with your hand, smacking against his belly. "Like you're any better."
Rhett's chest rumbles with a chuckle. You're not entirely sure when he got his arm around you, but it's carefully squeezing you into him. Keeping you snug against his chest as Bobby moves to settle between his legs.
And this...this is a hell of an angle to be observing from. You don't have to move your eyes or tilt your head at all, comfortably gazing at the sight of Rhett's plush thighs caging Bob's waist. On its own, your hand darts out, grabbing a handful of one. There's so much more to squeeze compared to when you first met; he's exchanged that wiry frame for something thicker, stronger, too.
Bob's reaching for his own cock, still wet with saliva, as he leans forward, fingers darting out to wrap around Rhett, too.
One stroke and Rhett's hips lift off the floor. "Shit."
He's so damn wet, with what mess you've made of him and the precum spilling out of his inflamed tip like a dripping faucet. Bob's thumb swipes out, collecting the clear fluid and spreading it onto himself, but before he's done there's already another bead of it forming.
"Good lord, Rhett," Bob mutters, and you're not entirely sure where he got that packet of lube from, tearing it open with his teeth, already beginning to pour the sticky substance onto their cocks.
So much for trying to break Rhett of that habit.
If he'd give Rhett a few minutes, you think he'd spill out enough to warrant forgoing lube altogether, but Bobby can only stretch his patience so far. Never has been able to hold out for very long when it comes to you and Rhett. That big hand of his gives an experimental stroke, a wet squelch sounding through the delicate air; you don't know who groans louder.
What you do know is that the sight before you is downright obscene. Rhett's legs squeezing around Bobby like he'll disappear if he doesn't, their heavy cocks twitching into one another. How Rhett's tip has a darker shade of red as compared to Bob's pale pink. They look so similar until they're right next to each other like this; it's the only way to tell that Bob's a fraction longer but not quite as thick as Rhett is.
Bob jerks forward, pressing impossibly closer. "Does that feel good?" As if he's not speaking around his own strangled breath.
You have to lift your head to get a better look at Rhett's face. Eyes scrunched shut, teeth worrying his thin bottom lip, cheeks flushed with a newfound redness. "Uhuh." His head shakes with what you think is a nod.
Maybe that's an answer Bob was looking for, but you want to hear more. "Use your words, cowboy."
"It feels—" Swallowing hard. A microscopic mewl breaks past his lips. "Feels good!"
He's already dissolving into a mess of squirms, wriggling back and forth, the swift stroke of Bob's hand too much for him to handle. Bucking upward, only to try and draw away, unshaven jaw shivering like a leaf in the wind.
Your fingers drift upward, nails dragging across the soft meet of his inner thigh, knuckles brushing against his balls as you drift past. Lightly rolling them in your palm would draw the prettiest sounds out of him, but today, you've got a slightly different plan in mind. Fingertips wander into the soft expanse of skin behind them, rubbing in loose circles.
A pitchy cry rings in your ears. Rhett's hand flies up. Tugging at his own hair. Desperate to grab hold of something. "Fuck! 'm gonna..." His head thrashes, pretty neck barred to the world. "I'm, I'm—"
"You fixin' to cum for us, sweet thing?" Bobby's voice sounds akin to thunder, a little twang in his tone. His thumb darts out, rapidly swiping back and forth across Rhett's plush cock head.
Curls bounce with Rhett's nod. Hardly able to close his mouth and stifle his moan. Yet, it's so loud that you can hear it anyway. Your fingers keep spiraling, pressing the slightest bit harder. You're almost certain that you can feel the sporadic twitch of muscle as his back arches, cumming with a wail.
A rope of white paints across his belly. The next one caught by Bobby's still moving hand. Disappearing into the squelching mix of lube and precum and your own juices, some kind of lewd recipe for disaster. Rhett's hips jerk. Yanks a grunt out of him.
But Bobby's not stopping. Still pumping their cocks together as if nothing ever happened. If anything, you think he's going faster, and it's got Rhett jumping around like a wounded animal. Mouth wide open. Brows knit together.
"Too much, too much, that's not—ah!" He squeals. Panting hard. Frantically pawing at Bob's hand, but it's doing nothing to end his torment.
"Hang on for me," Bob's eyes scrunch shut. Hissing through his teeth. Close. "You can do it."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, you can't, that—haah!" Rhett's twitching. Wailing. Legs kicking in the air.Still smacking at Bob's rapidly jerking fist as if that can possibly save him, but he's not uttering a single note of his safe word. Merely dissolving into a frenzied babble of, "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!"
That's all it takes for Bob's pale blue eyes to roll into the back of his head with a soft, deepened groan. Set off by the babbled cry of a helpless cowboy, trembling like a leaf beneath him. Rope after rope of cum, splattering against Rhett's lower belly and all over his softening cock. A visible shiver rakes its way up Bob's spine, and for a moment you think his glasses are about to fall off.
Finally, finally, the motion of that big hand is beginning to slow, loosening until Rhett's length slips from his grip entirely, smacking against his skin. Between the wateriness of Rhett's eyes and the redness in Bob's cheeks, you're not entirely sure where to look. Each are tempting in their own right, but not enough time to focus on both.
You suppose your distraction is why it takes a moment to realize that Bob's actually moving. Leaning down at a snail's pace, his lips pressing to your forehead, lingering for a moment or three before moving on to Rhett's, pressing a kiss to him, too. "Maybe we should call a different bakery," he murmurs, half-lidded gaze flickering to you.
If this is all it took, then next time, you'll skip the arguing and jump right into kissing down his neck. "You think?" There's a hoarseness to your voice that wasn't there before; you blame the icing.
Whether or not he caught the sarcasm in your tone, you have no idea.
"Yeah..." Bobby pauses as Rhett leans in to steal a proper kiss on the lips. "Now we've gotta do something with all these ingredients."
Rhett hums. Sounds akin to a cat purring. "I have a few ideas." You wonder if those ideas include smearing each other with icing again or offhandedly snacking on sprinkles for the next several months.
"I'll hear you out on those ideas," yawning, a strangled little noise escaping you, "when we're in bed."
A valid request, but Bobby's wrinkling his nose at it. "How about a bath, then bed."
"Y' act like we were just rollin' in mud," Rhett's fingers tap at your shoulder, gently squeezing.
"I love you two, but I draw the line at sticky sheets." Well, if Bob wants you to take a bath so damn bad, then he's gonna have to help you find the strength to get off this floor. Your hand reaches out, opening and closing in a grabbing motion.
It takes a couple seconds of looking at it for him to realize what you're asking, but after a moment, he slips his hand into yours, holding it as he rises to his feet. Something in your knee audibly pops as he pulls you up, an ache blooming in the bone from digging into the floor earlier. Your feet stumble, knocking into Rhett and nearly taking him back down with you.
"You're a mess, sweetheart," Bob laughs, pulling on your hand as if you're still due to fall at any moment. You're not entirely sure when you acquired the purple icing on your thigh or the smear of green running down your leg; you refuse to acknowledge the array of colors on the floor until after you've had a nap.
"So are you," not an ounce of venom in your tone, despite the attempt at mustering some kind of sarcastic bite. Behind you, Rhett hums his agreement. Someone started this, and it certainly was not you or Rhett.
"No, I'm not," Bob's beaming, almost proud of himself. "You two licked me clean, remember?"
It'll take the rest of the day for him to notice the icing on his glasses.
#bob floyd#robert bob floyd#rhett abbott#bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott#hawtho#hawthorn au#oneshot#tw food
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i plan on redesigning these 3 a this point so imma just post these ones here
basically almost like a bunch of months ago i made a happy future au where drones, worker and disassembly pretty much live in a society (no way incredible) and lineage of most of the main become influential families or smth
if you're wondering no these 3 arent directly nuzi children they're just in that lineage that last name was kinda kept but changed to dooress bc someone down the line found doorman cringe idk
important detail about hybrids: in short, bodies are separate from the system. systems can mix wd and dd coding but bodies have to be created to appeal to hybrid systems which in this not too long from its creation society (about like uhhhhh 200 years did I settle on? thats like a bunch of gens. enough for 2nd gen nuzi line to not be there i think.) hasn't been made yet. oh yeah dds look different all of them do to separate from the solver.
vera is a dd dominant wd hybrid. her system was incompatible with a wd body but with her dd body she cannot access certain functions. she is leading the drone defense force one of those dooress aimed positions. she doesn't really express herself much,,,really because of family pressure as she's the eldest current generation child in the family so a lot of expectations. i remember having a plot point where she couldn't hang out with a wd she had a crush on bc his family wasn't rich enough.
rocky is a regular dd. on the doc it says he leads a weapon manufacturing unit but i guess the day i drew this i was on construction. mmmmmmmm we'll see. hes stressed ah but plays it off with :D and a charming attitude (please help him). likes to pick on older sister, vera and rocky i think play fought a lot. his #1 argument is "you're short" ofc jokingly. yes i named him after rocky, whose va is kovach, the va of n. funny reference.
then theres my favorite, mina. she's a sort of therapist or counselor for solver drones and manages records on Mother Heir's (explaining later) to ensure they're doing fine, especially the Cyn ones. she's kinda n but would not take hate for an answer. she doesn't appear to be hurt by much and sometimes has a sort of aggressive happiness. like uhh you scream at her and she'll scream back in revenge or smth. lil gremlin.
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what does the grooming process look like for stellina and kep?
my 'process" for grooming is very much what i would call 'poor man's dog training':
get a silicone lick-mat
apply peanut butter very generously
slap that bad boy onto the front of the fridge/kitchen appliances at dog eye-level
groom while they're distracted
i start this process day 1 as puppies and continue it through their whole lives. should i actually be putting in the effort to actually train them to stand still and quietly for grooming without the need for food distraction? yes. do i? no i'm lazy.
or if you're asking about like, what grooming i'm actually doing:
hair: i do an all-over brush at least once a week (should do twice but again, lazy and not needed). takes like 20-30 mins. my 'schedule' for brushing is basically this:
red areas (behind ears, arm/legpits) are high-friction and very prone to matting. these you have to brush out at least once a week, no exceptions, or you will get mats. this is also very sensitive skin so it's good to desensitize them to brushing as much as you can.
yellow areas should be brushed at least once weekly to comb out any tangles and debris, but are less prone to matting.
and then the rest of them i'll brush through but that's about it, that part pretty much never tangles.
i normally just use a pin brush and slicker brush, and a metal comb for the yellow/red areas. sometimes an undercoat rake if they're very sheddy.
collies are 'dry' dogs - they don't really drool, and they don't have the oily waterproof coat that breeds like a lab or hound does, so they're naturally low-odor without much of a 'doggy' smell. i'll bathe every 4-8 weeks depending on what the weather's like and if their skin seems like it's getting cruddy. 2-3 times a year i'll take them to a groomer to have them do a 'deshed' treatment where they really blow out the undercoat, because this makes a huge difference in keeping them comfortable in the heat, and in how much hair i have to vacuum.
for stellina i've also been getting an outline trim (shortening up the yellow areas on the pic with long feathering) in spring and fall, it just keeps things cleaner and it makes a huge difference in the amount of time i have to spend brushing.
feet: i dremel nails every week, same PB-mat method as with brushing. every week is probably overkill but i think it's good desensitization and also i hate long nails on dogs so i'm a bit anal about it. collies tend to get long hair on the feet/between the pads, some people like the 'grinch feet' look but personally i fucking hate it so every 4-6 weeks i just take round-tip scissors and clean them up.
other: the rest i do as needed, e.g. if i see any wax/debris in the ears i'll do a clean with OTC ear cleaner and a cotton ball. one of stellina's eyes tends to be teary, so about once a week i take a warm washcloth and wipe them down to prevent tear stains. and then i vacuum my house weekly, sometimes every 2 weeks if it's not too bad.
honestly i'm writing a lot but what i've listed here is way less than 1 hour a week on average, collies IMO are not particularly high-grooming needs dogs (compared to, say, a doodle or OES that needs daily brushing and regular professional grooming). i find the grooming and hair totally manageable. i honestly prefer dealing with long hair because it tends to clump together on the ground, rather than short hairs that fly and scatter into everything. people tend to see roughs and go 'oh no way too much hair' but like, it is super manageable as long as you've got half an hour at some point each week to brush your dog. i'm very obsessive about my pets being 'neat' and i do fine.
sorry for the incredibly overly-long answer to your very simple ask lmao
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am a fellow D romancer (love them till death istg) and my bestie wouldn't stop making fun of Dara's hairstyle, saying it looks like a fucked up haircut of a little boy, chosen by his mom 😭
I regret to inform you the way D cuts their hair is literally freeballing it with a knife whenever it gets too near to their eyes without using any sort of mirror. It's a miracle Dara's front bangs are actually straight (Delal's front bangs are not but it somehow ended up suiting her face more than Dara lol).
So your friend is wrong in that it's even worse than that 💀
#d does not care about their hair looking good#they've got more important things on their mind#as long as it's short and out of the way they're fine with it#ask#a-talkative-corn#dara/delal
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i think instead of thinking about gender i’m gonna go dig a hole and lay in the ground.
#not in a dying way just. ground cozy#anyways. hate facebook and their stinky pronouns I can't change my pronouns on facebook because my family follows me there#anyways. one of my dad's friends is nonbinary and came out recently. they have their correct pronouns on their facebook page#i actually really want to meet them they're an arborist.#anyways. i dont like gender. please do not perceive me as a woman just don't percieve me at all right now#i dont!! really like. how i look feminine right now. I think *i* look fine i think the presentation is what's off other people me and think#ah taht is a woman#no :gun:#i dont know what i am and i'm just frustrated#i like my long hair i think it's pretty but i also want to cut it off. what would it be like to have short hair and still be wearing my hats#like i do every day lmfao#idk. idk. something something i look like a fuckin woman and it's really bothering me right now when usually i dont care#i wish i could look visibly queer but alas. i must dress like a highliter for 40hrs/week and i dont go anywhere any time elese#fucking aye this is an essay in the tags#my bad
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Imagine the fluff of Bucky retiring from the avengers because he met you, the sweetest thing on the planet, the woman he's down on one knee for ready to marry in a heart beat. He's built a house from the ground up, a quite place for your little growing family because not long after the wedding, he has a baby boy on the way. It’s all perfect.
The absolute angst of him losing you when complications arise during the delivery and the doctors and nurses chase him out, not giving him a chance to hold you and comfort you. The last thing he sees is your labored breaths and dropping pulse.
He hears the cries of his son moments later but his happiness is short lived when the med bay is forced into an emergency evacuation because of an attack on the compound. He sees a blur of doctors rushing you to a different wing and in the midst of the chaos, his new born baby is placed into his arms. He pleads to be able to go with you but he's dragged out with no answers with the building crumbling and bursting into fire and flames behind him moments later.
He's inconsolable.
Completely distraught.
The memorial service held for you leaves Bucky in shambles, clinging onto the tiny bundle wrapped up in his arms, the only thing he has left to live for now. He doesn't want to go on without you, it's just him and his little boy in the world. He know he has to be strong for his son so he carries on as best as he can. His heart hurts when his baby boy asks for his mama.
He visits your grave often but he never truly feels peace.
There was never even a body for him to bury.
Bucky comes out of retirement when Tony calls him about a mission. He knows its serious because they wouldn't ask him to come for just anything. He doesn't want to fight again but he does it for his son; the world has to be safe for his baby.
"Daddy will be just fine" Bucky reassures his now 5 year old, pressing a kiss to his head, leaving him to stay with Sarah while he's away. When he's back at the compound, he's given a briefing on what they're up against. They leave the next morning.
-
"I've got them in the west wing, headed towards you Steve" Bucky may have been out of the field for a couple of years but his skills and training still run in his blood. He trails behind the target, gun in hand, catching a knife that's thrown his way before dodging another. He gets them cornered in an abandoned ware house, ready to end it all, justice be damned, he just wanted to get back home to his baby boy. He's about to pull the trigger but that's when he sees it.
The red skull with tentacles surrounding it.
He freezes.
He blocks a punch that comes his way, grabbing their wrist and holding them in place, shoving them against the wall. All he can see are their eyes.
Bucky knows those eyes.
No.
He rips the mask off and nearly sobs, his hands trembling as he continues to hold them with all his strength knowing it was hurting them but what choice did he have.
"Doll?"
Just a thought, okay love you, bye.
#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes angst#bucky angst#bucky barnes imagine#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#marvel angst#avenger fanfiction#avengers fanfiction#avengers
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Any tips on learning to make buttonholes? I've been putting it off for.... *checks notes* like three years.... but better late than never and all that. I don't have any fancy machines so I gotta do it by hand but that seems right up your alley.
Thanks!
It IS up my alley, yes, I do most of my buttonholes by hand!
I'm actually part way through filming an 18th century buttonhole tutorial, but I expect it'll be a few more weeks before I finish that and put it on the youtubes, so in the meantime here's the very very short version. (The long version is looking like it'll probably be about 40 minutes maybe, judging by how much script I've written compared to my last video?)
Mark your line, a bit longer than your button is wide. I usually use a graphite mechanical pencil on light fabrics, and a light coloured pencil crayon on dark ones. (I have fabric pencils too, but they're much softer and leave a thicker line.)
You may want to baste the layers together around all the marked buttonholes if you're working on something big and the layers are shifty and slippery. I'm not basting here because this is just a pants placket.
Do a little running stitch (or perhaps a running backstitch) in fine thread around the line at the width you want the finished buttonhole to be. This holds the layers of fabric together and acts as a nice little guide for when you do the buttonhole stitches.
Cut along the marked line using a buttonhole cutter, or a woodworking chisel. Glossy magazines are the best surface to put underneath your work as you push down, and you can give it a little tap with a rubber mallet if it's not going through all the way.
I'm aware that there are some people who cut their buttonholes open using seam rippers, and if any of them are reading this please know that that is abhorrent behaviour and I need you to stop it immediately. Stop it.
Go get a buttonhole cutter for 10 bucks and your life will be better for it. Or go to the nearest hardware store and get a little woodworking chisel. This includes machine buttonholes, use the buttonhole cutter on them too. If you continue to cut open buttonholes with a seam ripper after reading this you are personally responsible for at least 3 of the grey hairs on my head.
Do a whipstitch around the cut edges, to help prevent fraying while you work and to keep all those threads out of the way. (For my everyday shirts I usually do a machine buttonhole instead of this step, and then just hand stitch over it, because it's a bit faster and a lot sturdier on the thin fabrics.)
I like to mark out my button locations at this point, because I can mark them through the holes without the buttonhole stitches getting in the way.
For the actual buttonhole stitches it's really nice if you have silk buttonhole twist, but I usually use those little balls of DMC cotton pearl/perle because it's cheap and a good weight. NOT stranded embroidery floss, no separate strands! It's got to be one smooth twisted thing!
Here's a comparison pic between silk buttonhole twist (left) and cotton pearl (right). Both can make nice looking buttonholes, but the silk is a bit nicer to work with and the knots line up more smoothly.
I've actually only used the silk for one garment ever, but am going to try to do it more often on my nicer things. I find the cotton holds up well enough to daily wear though, despite being not ideal. The buttonholes are never the first part of my garments to wear out.
I cut a piece of about one arm's length more or less, depending on the size of buttonhole. For any hole longer than about 4cm I use 2 threads, one to do each side, because the end gets very frayed and scruffy by the time you've put it through the fabric that many times.
I wax about 2cm of the tip (Not the entire thread. I wax the outlining/overcasting thread but not the buttonhole thread itself.) to make it stick in the fabric better when I start off the thread.
I don't tend to tie it, I just do a couple of stabstitches or backstitches and it holds well. (I'm generally very thorough with tying off my threads when it comes to hand sewing, but a buttonhole is basically a long row of knots, so it's pretty sturdy.)
Put the needle through underneath, with the tip coming up right along that little outline you sewed earlier. And I personally like to take the ends that are already in my hand and wrap them around the tip of the needle like so, but a lot of people loop the other end up around the other way, so here's a link to a buttonhole video with that method. Try both and see which one you prefer, the resulting knot is the same either way.
Sometimes I can pull the thread from the end near the needle and have the stitch look nice, but often I grab it closer to the base and give it a little wiggle to nestle it into place. This is more necessary with the cotton than it is with the silk.
The knot should be on top of the cut edge of the fabric, not in front of it.
You can put your stitches further apart than I do if you want, they'll still work if they've got little gaps in between them.
Keep going up that edge and when you get to the end you can either flip immediately to the other side and start back down again, or you can do a bar tack. (You can also fan out the stitches around the end if you want, but I don't like to anymore because I think the rectangular ends look nicer.)
Here's a bar tack vs. no bar tack sample. They just make it look more sharp, and they reinforce the ends.
For a bar tack do a few long stitches across the entire end.
And then do buttonhole stitches on top of those long stitches. I also like to snag a tiny bit of the fabric underneath.
Then stick the needle down into the fabric right where you ended that last stitch on the corner of the bar tack, so you don't pull that corner out of shape, and then just go back to making buttonhole stitches down the other side.
Then do the second bar tack once you get back to the end.
To finish off my thread I make it sticky with a bit more beeswax, waxing it as close to the fabric as I can get, and then bring it through to the back and pull it underneath the stitches down one side and trim it off.
In my experience it stays put perfectly well this way without tying it off.
Voila! An beautiful buttonholes!
If you want keyhole ones you can clip or punch a little rounded bit at one end of the cut and fan your stitches out around that and only do the bar tack at one end, like I did on my 1830's dressing gown.
(I won't do that style in my video though, because they're not 18th century.)
Do samples before doing them on a garment! Do as many practice ones as you need to, it takes a while for them to get good! Mine did not look this nice 10 years ago.
Your first one will probably look pretty bad, but your hundredth will be much better!
Edit: Video finished!
youtube
And here's the blog post, which is mostly a slightly longer version of this post.
#ask#buttonholes#sewing#hand sewing#sewing tutorial#I've been procrastinating on the video this week#I want it done! I don't want to work on it I want new projects! I want to cut out more gloves!#currently forcing myself to do the last few buttonholes on these pants and then maybe I can cut out new gloves? as a treat?#but I hope I get some filming done tomorrow too
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you can take it | eddie munson smut
summary: eddie gets jealous at a gig and reminds you exactly who you belong with :)
warnings: dacryphilia, just pure filth, rough sex, daddy kink, name calling in bed, jealous boyfriend, shy!reader, voyuerism
You really were innocent in the whole situation.
You were at The Hideout, watching your boyfriend Eddie perform. You sat alone at the bar, sipping on something sweet and fizzy the bartender made you, on the house.
Someone approached you, introducing himself as Eric. He didn't leave when you mentioned you had a boyfriend, but he didn't make any moves on you either, he was just speaking to you, so you didn't feel concerned about it.
The only rule you and Eddie had about hanging out with other people is as long as they're not into you, it's totally fine. Because usually, Eddie is a pretty level headed guy, especially when it comes to you. He loves you, and trusts that you love him, and only him.
However, there are a few people that push Eddie's buttons just by existing. You knew about Jason Carver, but who you didn't know about was Eric Heely, lead singer of Hotels of Fire, another band that frequents gigs at The Hideout. And an industrial pain in Eddie's ass.
And now, he was leaning against the bar talking to you while Eddie played the rest of his show.
And Eddie was getting pissed off.
He didn't like the idea of this guy talking to you, but what he really hated was that this guy was using you to get a rise out of him, and worse yet, it was fucking working. Eddie's neck was getting hot, and he'd long lost his usual grin. Instead, it was replaced with a tight scowl, a really annoyed grimace that probably would've signalled something was wrong if you would just look at Eddie.
But no, you were talking with Eric, sipping on your drink. He could tell from there that you weren't doing anything wrong at all. You saw the best in people, and if you had said you weren't interested, you would trust the other person to take that as an answer. But Eddie knew better. Eddie knew that Eric wasn't just trying to make a new friend, he was trying to ruin Eddie's night.
By the time you realized you were in trouble, it was far too late. Eddie had already decided that you needed to be taught a lesson.
And once you're in hell, only the devil can get you out.
You noticed Eddie's grimace, and put two and two together when you saw your new friend waving at Eddie, smug smile on his face.
"Do you know Eddie?" you asked, growing suspicious.
"Oh yeah," he said, making sure Eddie was looking at him before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "We go way back."
You reacted quickly, getting out of your chair and smacking that guys hand away from you. You were clearly telling him off, but Eddie just wished you would get away from that guy.
Eddie, still not angry with you, was fuming. Eric had touched you. He touched you without your permission, and you felt uncomfortable, Eddie could see that. The music turned aggressive, and his bandmates could see the scene unfolding in front of them, and they didn't know what was going to happen.
After cutting the song short, Eddie announced their set was over.
His friends looked at each other questioningly, as there was still supposed to be another few songs, but they wrapped up anyway, unplugging their instruments and beginning to disassemble. Eddie threw the van keys to Gareth, and didn't say a word as he rushed over to 'save' you.
You met Eddie halfway, trying to assure him that you didn't do anything. Eric was behind you smirking at the damage he'd done to Eddie's mood.
"Baby," he cooed, rubbing your arms. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at him." Eddie nodded over to Eric, and followed up by flipping him off. "Go over with Gareth, okay? I wouldn't trust this guy near your drink." Eddie plucked the beverage out of your hands, and while he doubted that Eric did anything to it, he just wasn't willing to risk it.
Eddie stormed over to Eric, and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.
"If you ever lay your hands on her again, I will kill you. Do you understand that? I will kill you."
"Death threats? Eddie, don't you think you're being a little dramatic? She was totally into it."
"If you interpret recoiling as into it, you're a predator." Eddie had to get out of here before he did something he would regret. Before he got the band barred from the only place they could find to play. "Stay away from us."
"Whatever, freak."
Eddie let go of Eric's shirt, turning on his heel and focusing on just getting back to you and calming down. Was he mad? Jealous? Pissed off? Yes, yes, and yes.
"Eddie?" you asked, as he approached you, but he didn't answer, just grabbed your hand and pulled you close, closing the gap between you and laying a big, fat kiss on you in front of everyone. You melted into him, not really caring who saw. Eddie loved pda, always had, loved showing everyone that you were his, and he was yours.
Hid hands wrapped around your waist, holding you as he leaned into you, bending your back and forcing your chest into his. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, taking in the intoxicating smell of him. Eddie, sweat covered and sexy.
"Eddie," you mumbled against his mouth, "let's pack up and just get out of here," you said, pulling away from him finally.
"Yeah," he agreed, "good idea."
And you could see the fire in his eyes. You could feel the way he tried to push into you. You were in trouble, but you weren't scared, you were excited.
"Are you ready to help us pack up?" Jeff asked, "or would you just like us to watch you make out some more."
"No one was forcing you to watch," Eddie said, his tone level and casual. None of his usual joking manner. "I'll bring the van around."
Eddie pulled you behind him. He wouldn't be letting you alone with that guy fucking lurking around. You were guided out the back door, and through the dark parking lot behind the bar. Eddie always parked in the same corner, far enough away from the door where he could secure a quick deal or two during his shows.
Even through the rage, you thought he was being a perfect gentleman by opening the passenger side door for you, but you should've known better. In this mood, you should've expected him to be dirty, dirty, dirty...
When you moved to get in, he pushed you down, bending you over the seat. With your ass in the air, he lifted your skirt and pulled your panties down to your knees, immediately smacking your ass three fast times. It stung, the sudden intrusion of pain was a delightful surprise. He groped your ass for a second, mumbling something about it being his.
"I fucking love this ass," he muttered, sliding his fingers down through your already soaking wet folds. "And this pussy."
Two rough fingers found your clit, rubbing small, quick circles around the little bud.
"I need to get you home," he said, plunging those fingers inside you. "Like, right now."
"We should h-help pack up," you said, only to be met with another smack on your ass from his free hand. He wasn't holding you down, you could've easily asked him to stop and he would've. But you didn't want to. And he knew that.
"Just need a minute," he said, falling to his knees. The concret scraped his knees, but he didn't care. He needed this to calm down. Then he could go pack up and get you home and deal with the rest of his frustrations. "Jus' a little taste," he whispered, leaning forward and diving into your pussy like it was the cure to all his problems. Which it kind of was, honestly.
One hand was gripping your thigh, right where it met your ass, holding it open so he could lick, and suck and just taste you. The other hand, slid around you to rub slow circles on your clit again, but not enough to get you off. He didn't want to overwhelm you already, and he definitely didn't want you to cum yet.
"Eddie," you moaned, biting your hand to keep quiet. "They're waiting for us."
"Don't care," he mumbled, continuing to eat you out, right there in the parking lot. It wouldn't be the first time you'd done something here in the parking lot, but it was the first time where you weren't hidden inside the van.
"Eddie," you moaned, as he licked up your slit and dipped into your tight little hole with his tongue, before pulling away entirely, letting the cool breeze blow across your wet centre, and you whined, wishing he would continue. He laughed, leaving your clit behind to grip both your ass cheeks in his calloused hands, the rough fingers felt amazing against your soft skin. He bit one of your ass cheeks, and kissed the other. And then slapped both at the same time.
And you got ready for him to fuck you. But instead he tucked his erection into the band of his jeans, and pulled your panties back up. He fixed your skirt, and then guided you to sit in the van.
"You're so good," he mused, his bad mood already lessening. "So beautiful."
You blushed, suddenly bashful about what he'd done.
"Now let's get the fuck out of here," he said, closing the passenger door and rushing around to the front. He drove to the otherside of the lot, completely unfazed by his voyeuristic tendencies.
The guys were already moving stuff outside, and leaving it by the backdoor.
"We were afraid to come over there," Gareth joked, loading stuff into the back. He found it even funnier when he caught the blush creeping over your neck and cheeks. He didn't say anything else about it. But he knew that there was some truth to it all.
"Just hurry up," Eddie said, impatience catching up with him. "I'm in a bad mood, I just fucking hate that guy."
"Yeah, that guy is a dick." Gareth shook his head. "But it's not like she would've let him do anything."
"Obviously," he muttered, and closed the back of the door. "It pisses me off that he would even try to use her like that though, like she's less of a person. It's just, it's gross."
"It is gross," he agreed. "Well, we're out of here. I think I'll catch a ride with Jeff. You seem, uh... busy."
"I think that's for the best."
The drive home was silent, except for the radio playing quietly between you. Eddie's hand gripped your thigh, tightly, possessively. He was thinking of all the ways he was going to fuck you. All the ways he was going to make you cum. All over his face, his cock, his fingers. He couldn't think about anything else. He loathed the idea that Eric probably thought he could get with you. It made it him fucking furious. The more he stewed about it, the more angry he got.
It was time to remind you that there was no one on Earth that could fuck you like he can.
He trusted you fully, but he was going to remind you anyway.
"Eddie?" you asked, "Are you sure you're not mad at me?"
"I'm sure, my love." He traded his grip on your thigh for your hand, which he brought to his lips to place several chaste kisses to your knuckles. It was sweet how much you cared about his feelings, and boundaries. "I just need to make sure you're properly fucked. I've been fucking you softly lately, and I love that," he smiled, and you were blushing, the topic of conversation making you bashful, "but it's time for Daddy to really fuck your brains out."
"Eddie!"
"Time to make my little mouse cum again and again," he continued, "until you're screaming and begging me to stop." He continued to kiss your hand as he spoke, "but you won't want me to stop, not really."
"Don't be dirty," you whispered, shy about the way he was speaking to you. But you loved it. You were soaking wet, clenching your thighs together, thinking about all the ways Eddie would have you. All the ways you would totally and fully give yourself to him.
"Oh baby," he cooed, "tonight we will be filthy, and I think," he let go of your hand, "I'll start now."
And with that he slipped his hand between your thighs, pushing them open. He wasted no time in grabbing your panties, yanking them over to the side and slipping his fingers between your folds.
"So fucking wet," he moaned, slipping a finger inside you, "and so fucking tight." He groaned, taking the finger out and popping it into his mouth. "And sweet."
You were breathing heavily, so turned on by how Eddie was acting. He'd dominated you before, but this was different. Like he was trying to prove something. He was trying to prove to himself that he was the right one for you, that he was the one you wanted and needed.
"I want you to be good for me tonight," he said, moving back between your legs and fingering you again. This time with two thick fingers, and his thumb on your clit. He knew everything by feel, his eyes never left the road. He knew where to touch, and what to do to please you. "Just do what I say and you'll be rewarded."
"Okay," you whispered, speechless at what was going on. You pulled your knee up onto the passenger side door to give him more access to you. To let him in deeper.
"Good girl," he cooed, "off to a good start."
He removed his hand again, and you whined at the loss of contact, but he shut you up by sticking his fingers into your mouth. "Taste that, honey? It's my favourite thing in the world." He kept his fingers in your mouth for a moment, until he felt your tongue swirl around the digits. "You're gunna suck my cock as soon as we get inside your house, and you're not gunna stop until I tell you to stop."
You nodded, and he pulled his fingers out, returning to gripping your thigh like at the start. You were throbbing, thinking 'please touch me again,' over and over and over in your head until you were sure he knew what you were thinking, because his smug smirk returned.
"Look at you, fucking begging for it, looking at me like that isn't gunna be enough, doll. You're not calling the shots tonight."
"Can I suck your cock now?" you asked, and he smiled.
"No," he said. "Keep your hands to yourself."
And suddenly your hands were magnets, and he was what they were attracted to. You wanted to touch him, to play with his hair, or his jacket. Touch his thighs, or any piece of exposed skin you could find. You needed him. You wanted him to be inside you, anyway possible. The lay restlessly on your lap, just keening to touch him.
You clenched your thighs together again, and Eddie tutted at you. "Don't do that, your pleasure is all for me tonight."
"Eddie..." you whined, hiking your leg up higher, trying to entice him to return to his work between your legs. But he didn't budge, just smirked as you whined and writhed in his passenger seat. He loved it like this, he liked how fucking feral you got for him.
And he especially loved how smug it made him when one of the guys sat in that seat, knowing all the dirty things he'd done to you in this van.
He killed the engine, parking crooked in your driveway. No one was home, it was a recipe for a perfect night.
"Don't even have to be quiet," he mused, "you're really in for it, little mouse."
And you were quick to exit the van, and excitedly head into the house. You were only a few steps in, leaning on the wall and trying to kick your shoes off when Eddie slammed the front door, grabbing your hand and turning you back around to him.
"I said 'as soon as we get inside'," and he pulled you down until you feel on your knees. "I didn't say take anything off."
He pushed your face into his bulge, the jean rubbing against your cheek, and the zipper cold on your nose.
You undid his belt above you, fumbling because you couldn't really see it. You pulled it through the loops, and he grabbed it from you before you could discard it.
"Take my pants off," he muttered, letting go of your hair. And you obeyed, tongue tied and soaking wet. Throbbing in your panties. Eddie had never been like this. And you wanted more. You wanted more than you knew.
While you worked on his jeans, he wrapped the belt around your neck. Not to choke you, but to hold it there, as if it was a promise. A promise to keep you in line. You sucked your lip into your mouth, salivating at the sight of his dick springing to life, free from the confines of his ripped jeans. His sexy, sexy ripped jeans.
You started teasingly, licking the underside of his dick slowly, but he yanked the belt, causing it to tighten ever so slightly. "I said, suck my dick!" he raised his voice, annoyed that he had to repeat himself a third time.
You whimpered, putting the tip in your mouth, and he thrusted into your mouth, forcing himself into your throat as you choked and gagged.
"If you want to stop at any point just tap twice or say Atari," he said, a softer tone taking over for a moment, he pulled back a bit, making you look up at him, "tap twice now if you understand."
You tapped his leg twice, and then you gagged on his dick as he thrusted it down your throat again. "Good girl," he muttered, dick twitching at the view he had. Belt wrapped around your throat like a leash, tears filling your eyes and his dick hit the back of your throat. You didn't even have to move, because Eddie couldn't control himself from grabbing your hair, and guiding you to suck his dick exactly how he wanted it.
Eddie was fucking your face, a foot from the front door. If anyone came onto the porch they'd hear the wet squelching of Eddie thrusting into your mouth, or the coughing caused by the intrusion.
"That's fucking unreal, little mouse," he muttered, throwing his head back and his continued gripping your hair by the roots, moving your head up and down on his thick cock. "You take daddy so well."
Your hands gripped his thighs, trying to ignore the painful throbbing of your ignored pussy, while Eddie takes his pleasure. "You look so pretty like this," he said, returning his attention to you. Tears made their escape down your cheeks, dragging your mascara with them.
He gave the belt some slack, and you backed off of him, sucking in a few big gulps of air.
"I didn't know you could take it so good, baby," he cooed, "Daddy's good little slut."
You nodded eagerly, not sure if you were allowed to talk or not. You leaned forward to take him back in your mouth, doing everything you had been before, but without Eddie's guiding hand, you did it yourself, shoving his cock to the back of your throat where you coughed and gagged around him.
His groans were delightful. Eddie moans were music, filling you you with pride and desire. You pulled away again for some more air, and he looked at you with a devilish smirk.
"Come up here," he said, yanking on the belt, forcing you back to your feet.
The belt dangled when he let it go, and he just looked at you for a second. Your hair was messy, cheeks covered in wet makeup, puffy lips, belt hanging loosely around your neck, and glossy eyes that made Eddie swoon, for just a moment. And then he smirked, rubbing his thumbs across your cheek, trying to remove some of the mascara, but he just smudged it more. He smiled.
"Did you like that?" he asked, wanting to make sure you were liking this otherside of him. You nodded. "Why don't you bend of that couch over there? Hmm? Show daddy that ass he loves so much."
You did as he asked, bending yourself over the armrest of the couch. Irritated by all the clothes still on, but Eddie said not to take anything off, and you wanted to be his good girl. Even your sneakers were still on.
You looked behind at him, and he had taken all his clothes off, and was roughly palming his cock in his hand. One finger looped around your panties, yanking them down your legs and off, landing somewhere on the floor. He winked at you, making you blush. He gripped your ass tightly, his thumb linger dangerously close to your asshole.
He spread you open, slapping his cock against your asshole a couple times, mumbling, "I'll have to give this tight little hole a try sometime..." but he slid down to the wet, sopping hole of your pussy, testing the readiness of it by slipping the tip in. Your pussy basically sucked him in, begging him to give it to you. "So fucking wet and ready baby, so fucking good for me."
Instead of fucking you like you desperately needed, he just popped the tip in and out a couple times, spreading your wetness down to your clit and up to your ass.
And then he was lined up to your pussy again, holding himself at your hole, and you whimpered, looking over your shoulder at him, glossy eyes begging for him.
"Why so quiet, little mouse? I want to hear you," he said, moving his cock down to your clit again, and then right back up to your centre.
"Please," you begged, voice breaking with anticipation.
"Please what?"
"Please... please fuck me Daddy," you begged, "please fuck me, I've been so good, I want it. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" you begged.
And in one swift movement he grabbed the belt again, yanking it tight, constricting your throat just enough for you to feel the threat of choking, and also thrusting himself fully inside you. You screamed at the sudden invasion, but it felt so fucking good. The belt slightly constricting you, forcing your head back, and Eddie suddenly balls deep inside you made you scream you loved it so much. His other hand gripped your ass, the skirt bunching up in his palm.
Like how he treated your face, he was roughly fucking into you, each pump going all the way out before slamming back in. Each move was calculated, your head being forced back felt... so fucking good. He slapped your ass, flipping your skirt up.
You muttered unintelligible syllables, just grunts and moans as he took all of you.
You were taking him so well, your pussy was gripping him so tightly. Fuck, Eddie couldn't take it, but he didn't want to cum yet. Didn't want it to end.
You were breathing heavy, getting close to finishing, and Eddie could feel it. He knew the signs of your orgasm, and right when you were about to fall off that edge, he stopped entirely, pulling out and letting your orgasm shatter to pieces, not giving you any sense of relief. Instead, you were left with a painful thump in your clit.
Eddie touched it slowly and softly, giving nowhere near enough to coax you back to your orgasm, but enough to soothe the throbbing of neglect your poor pussy felt.
You whined, trying to push yourself back on him, and it made him chuckle. You looked so desperate for him. You wanted him. And Eddie finally got back his confidence that he was the only one for you. A fact you'd never doubted.
He loosened the belt, taking it off completely, and flipped you over, so you were standing again, leaning back against the couch. He moved your hair out of the way to make sure he didn't do any damage, and he didn't. It was just a little red, with a few small marks where the edges had rubbed into you. But he'd never pulled it tight enough to hurt you.
And then his movements were caring, just for a moment, just enough time to slide off your skirt, and then your shirt and bra. He slowly undressed you, stroking his cock slowly. He worshipped your body, hands dragging slowly across all newly exposed skin.
"So fucking pretty, baby," he said, "and you take it so well, who knew you had this kind of ... perseverance?"
"I want to cum," you pouted, "and I want you to fuck me full."
Eddie's eyes widened at your words, and his usual cheeky grin returned. "Oh, baby, you don't even know what you're asking for," he groaned, biting his bottom look as he took in your disheveled appearance.
"Yes, I do," you challenged, "please?"
And he pushed you back, letting you fall onto the couch cushions. And you crawled backwards as he climbed over the couch, stalking up your body like you were his prey.
He wedged himself in between your thighs, lining him up with your pussy and shoving it back in, hitting every part of you. He stayed still inside you, every inch of him covered with you. And he kissed you. He kissed you with his tongue, teeth, with his hands. He was all over you, covering every sense and taking the attention of all your thoughts.
"I love you," he muttered, "I love you so much."
"I love you too," you whispered.
"Good," he smirked, "now take it."
And he was thrusting into you like he didn't love you at all. Hitting every part of you that was only for him to hit. Each slap of his hips hitting into your thighs hurt, but only in the most pleasurable way. You moaned, wrapping your legs around him, trying to somehow bring him in harder, deeper.
One hand by your head, holding him up, the other latching around your throat as he kissed you, all tongues and sloppy. the only sounds being the squelching of your painfully wet pussy and your tiny whimpers, being lost in his mouth.
"I want you to cum," he said, pulling himself away from your mouth, keeping his eyes locked onto your as you moaned under him, breathless and sweaty. "Now, I want you to cum now," he said, angling himself differently, and thrusting harder, hitting you in a spot that made you feel like you were gunna explode.
You were going to explode, especially when he ordered, "touch yourself, make yourself cum."
Like a good girl, you rubbed small circles over your clit, helping him bring yourself back to that ledge you so desperately wanted to jump off.
Your walls tightened around him, and it was different. It was different than every other time. You were chanting his name, moaning "Eddie," over and over until you came, screaming his name and feeling elecricity down to your toes. Every part of you was on fire, and your muscles tightened, pulling him in closer while you squirted, for the very first time, soaking Eddie and the couch, pushing him out of your pussy.
He moved quickly, putting two fingers roughly inside you and moving them with ferocity as he coaxed you through the biggest orgasm you'd ever had. You screamed, loudly, honestly worrying Eddie that the neighbours would hear, so he clamped another hand over your mouth, keeping the noise contained. Your muffled screams just coaxed him to an orgasm on their own, he was sure of it.
He had been close to his climax, but this new change of events was okay with him. He could've cum just from knowing how well he satisfied you.
Your heavy breathing continued for a minute, and in a cock drunk state you looked at him, smiling stupidly while he just watched you, still softly fingering you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.
"I made you squirt," he said, stupid, goofy grin all over his face. He continued stroking his fingers in you.
"You didn't cum," you pouted, looking at his still rock hard cock.
"Guess we'll have to just start all over again, pretty petal, but why don't we get you some water first."
And before you understood what was happening, two were standing in the kitchen, Eddie bending you over the counter and slipping his cock back inside you, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close, and to get his fingers back on you clit. Your back pressed into his chest, and he pumped into you slowly.
"More," you muttered, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts.
"Hmm," he mused, grinning down at the sight of your ass slapping against his abdomen. "I don't know if you can take it..."
"I can," you whined, trying to fuck yourself harder on his cock, but his arms restricted you, not letting you take what you wanted.
"Tell me you can take it," he said, "convince me that you can take it."
And you wriggled free of his grip, climbing onto the counter and laying on your back. Eddie watched with a grin on his face, as you spread your legs wide for him, angling yourself at the perfect height for him to ravage you again. He took his place between your thighs, and rubbed himself up and down on your pussy.
"I can take it," you promised, "I want you to fuck me like you hate me, daddy."
"Is that what you want?" he asked, continuing to slide his tip through your juices, leaving a trail down to your asshole. He popped the tip into your pussy, pulling it out almost immediately.
"Please," you whined, "please fuck me, I can take it. I love it, I want you to hurt me. I want you to fuck me until you fuck me full of your cum. I want you to take it all out on me," you begged, staring straight into his eyes.
"Dirty little mouse," he said. He loved when you broke out of your shell. When you could talk about all your dirty desires with him. "Let's go to bed," he said, wicked smile ever present. "I want to ruin you on those cute pink sheets of yours."
He took your hand, helping you off the counter, like a gentlemen, and then followed you to your room.
"On your knees on the bed," he said as soon as you got in the room. You you crawled on, ass in the air over the edge of the bed, shaking your ass the perfect spot for him to come take you, he did just that, walking up behind you and thrusting two of his fingers into your hole. You moaned, and he moved them aggressively, hitting that delicious spot roughly over and over, and over.
"I'm gunna fuck you full, alright." He was mumbling behind you, working his fingers quickly, hitting your g-spot like he own it and twirling circles around your clit. "Just gotta make you cum again real quick, and then I'm gunna fuck you totally full of my babies." He grinned, turned on by the imagery of you, all round and pregnant with his baby. Maybe one day...
You were getting close again, your arms buckled and you fell onto your chest, your cheek squishing into the soft duvet Eddie loved so much.
It was too much, he knew you too well. You couldn't resist if you wanted to. You moaned knowing he was right, he was going to make you cum again, quickly and with ease. His tongue poked out in complete concentration, followed by a smile as he felt you tighten up. Standing up, he kept the circles on your clit going, but quickly switched out his fingers for his cock, angling himself until he felt your g-spot again.
You screamed again, muffling yourself in the blankets. And the feeling of his big dick penetrating you when you were that close, made you come undone again, you came around his cock, clenching him so tightly he threw his head back in pleasure.
He moved away from your clit, letting his dick be your only guide through another orgasm, and he was back to gripping your ass. He fucking loved that ass. He spanked it, gripped it, held it open, and then out of nowhere he leaned forward to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling you back up, and holding it taut so you were forced to stay on your hands. You moaned, the pain was just another sensation of pleasure.
"You stay like that baby, looks so fucking good." He groaned, his dick twitching inside you, he was close. He wanted to cum so fucking bad, he needed the relief.
Tears rolled down your cheeks, the pleasure so great that you couldn't contain it. Couldn't even speak. Eddie fucked you stupid, and you didn't want him to stop. You wanted to be ruined by him. You wanted him to take total claim of you, marking you as his for the rest of forever.
"So fucking good -" he grunted, thrusting harder into you, hitting the back wall with every thrust, making sure to hit you with his full length everytime. "So fuck tight baby, you're so fucking tight. That's all for me, yeah? Just for me," he mumbled, thumb poking into your asshole, and you moaned.
"For you," you muttered weakly, pathetically. You could barely get the words out, the new sensation of his fingers proding a new hole made your pussy tighten again.
"I think I can get you there one more time, huh? What do you say, puppet? Cum for daddy one more time?"
You nodded, feeling like you were close already. He let go of your hair and you leaned forward, arching your back as much as possible to give him even more access to you. He spread your ass open so he could see it all. Watch as he pummeled your little pussy.
"Gunna c.." you moaned, "gunna please."
"What's that? I don't know what you're saying down there baby."
"I'm g-gunna fuck," you whined, "it's- again."
"What're you? Stupid? Use your words, baby, tell me," he cooed, egging you on when he knew damn well what you were saying, and your walls became impossibly tight around him.
"I'm gunna cum," you whined, finding your voice finally, and you continued to raise it as you said, "please, daddy. Please, I'm gunna fucking cum, you fuck me so good."
"Was that so hard?" he asked, finding your clit with a wet thumb and rubbing circles on it until he felt you come undone again, biting the duvet to keep from wailing and alerting the whole fucking town to what Eddie doing.
He couldn't hold back anymore, and he followed through on his promises, continuing to fuck you as he came ribbons into your cunt, the liquids pooling up and dripping out around his cock. He watched with stars in his eyes at the sight of your pretty pussy taking all his juices.
He slowed down, his dick still inside you but softer. He cooed at you, praising you for being so good.
"Baby, that was... wow," he said, pulling out of you. He ran a comforting hand down your back, gripping your ass gently one more time. "I love you, I love you so much."
Eddie ran a finger over your pussy, to your clit, making your whole body jerk when he touched it. Your cum and his mashed together, an indistinguishable mess between your legs. You didn't move, just stayed face down ass up while Eddie worshipped up, touching you softly all over the place.
"My love," he said, taking your hand softly, returning to his nurturing boyfriend stat like he hadn't just treated you like a whore. His whore... "C'mon sweet girl, let's go get some water and a shower."
#eddie munson#eddie smut#eddie x you#eddie x reader#stranger things#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson smut#eddie munson imagines#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you
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AITA for coming out at my sister's wedding?
I (32M) recently realized I'm bisexual and I have my first bf (45M), he's a rescue helicopter pilot (this will be relevant later). I'm out to my sister (41F) and my coworkers, including her husband, who I have worked with for years, but not to my parents or most of the other guests. Everyone has joked that I'm a little too close to my best friend (32M), and we might as well get married, but he's straight and has a gf. They're not relevant to this story, but to give context to how much my sexuality probably shouldn't be a surprise, even if it took me by surprise.
I told my sister and her husband I was bringing a plus one, and they both knew my bf, they were supportive of it because he makes me really happy.
Everything kind of started at the bachelor party. It was just me, my brother-in-law, and my best friend, and we did the usual stuff. We stayed a night in a hotel, went out to get drunk, sang some karaoke at our usual spot. It should have been a super chill night. Until my best friend and I lost the groom??? But it way more stressful than The Hangover makes it look.
He'd been taken by these guys who tried to kill him (no, I don't know why) and we didn't realize he was missing until less than an hour before the wedding. My mom kind of threw a fit about us being late, and then blamed me for losing the groom, which is kind of a normal reaction from her. My dad didn't yell as much but again, this is a normal reaction, I'm kind of the disappointment child. Basically, we had to find my brother-in-law because he still needed to marry my sister.
Before anyone worries: they did get married. He's fine. The hospital says they're discharging him tomorrow to go home. They're gonna reschedule their honeymoon so he's well enough to enjoy it.
Long story short, it turned into a rescue mission, and driving would have taken too long, and my best friend suggested we ask my bf to borrow his helicopter again (long story, but we had to borrow him for something a few months ago, it's how we met!) so I asked him for the favor. My mom asked who he was, since my best friend just used his name, and I told her he's my boyfriend, and she freaked out about it.
When we go to the hospital with my brother-in-law, my parents both yelled at and scolded me for taking attention away from the biggest day of my sister's life by pulling some "stunt" with my bf (to SAVE my brother-in-law from being violently murdered), and I think my dad somehow grounded me?
AITA?
#evan buckley#tommy kinard#kinkley#bucktommy#maddie buckley#chimney han#madney#margaret buckley#phillip buckley#buckley fam#eddie diaz#911#911 spoilers#911 spec#911 spec fic#911 on abc#911 fic#911 fanfic#alex writes things#1k
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DC x DP short
I'm picturing Danny moving to Gotham once he's an adult. He came out to his parents, and it went fine. More than fine. They listened to how he was struggling at school because he kept having to chase down the ghosts they let out by leaving the portal open. Jack was super proud of his son for being a ghost hunter even as a ghost, but Maddie understood his concern and set up some new protocols for the portal.
It now automatically closes after two minutes unless a specific command is put in by Danny to keep it open while he is in the Zone, and the shielding around it actually works to stop ghosts coming trig without hurting them now.
The shine of the mortal world has worn off for most of his regulars now, and those that come through have figured out compromises so they can still fulfil their obsessions without hurting others. The meta-protection act officially disbands the GIW, and Red Huntress is given a very thorough speaking to about personal bias and vendettas. She's not allowed back in the field until she comes to the realisation that ghosts are people too, and that she been the bad guy by hunting them the way she did. Phantom is officially recognised as a Hero, but he turns down working for any teams or joining the Big Leagues. He agrees to act as a back up though, in case of any world ending event.
By the time senior year rolls around, Danny has gotten his grades up enough that he can go to a pretty decent university if he wants to. He chooses Gotham University for his engineering degree because they're a feeder school for Wayne Enterprises, who in turn are a feeder company for working for the Justice League as a civilian engineer. Tucker also chooses GU for their tech program, while Sam elects not to go to university straight away.
Tucker and Danny move into an apartment right on the borders of Crime Alley and The Narrows. Tucker manages an impressive 4 months as a local hacker before Oracle notices him, but Danny only manages 3 weeks before he's spotted by a Bat.
He's lying down a foot above his building's roof, looking at the stars. It's a very rare cloudless night, and the power is out in his area. Poison Ivy had launched an attack earlier in the day that had taken cut the power lines, with her mutant plants feeding on the smog and pollution to get stronger.
Duke was up late, finishing the day shift by a quick loop of The Narrows, when he noticed a slightly glowing teenager(?) floating on one of the roofs. He takes note that the man isn't causing any harm and is just peacefully stargazing, before calling it in to Jason. He was technically supposed to be off the clock an hour ago, and besides, the building was on the Crime Alley side of this street. It's Jason's problem now.
Jason, on the other hand, is exhausted and just wants to have a quiet patrol before collapsing in bed. He hadn't been hit by Ivy's plants, but had taken a couple of tumbles while dodging them. He heads over to the address Duke gave him, to find the guy still floating there staring at the sky. He gets it, he does, he would float above the grime that coats Gotham rooftops if he could, but it's dangerous for a meta to be so unawares of his surroundings like this while obviously displaying his powers.
Danny, meanwhile, had clocked both of the vigilantes coming near him, but was really hoping that they would leave him alone. It had been a very long day for him. He'd finally managed to get to campus for his class, only to find that the place was covered in overgrown plants. He'd had to freeze a few to get into the building, and had then spent most of the afternoon in the library due to his class being cancelled. Unfortunately for him, his nearly finished assignment that he'd spent the day working on was eaten by one of the giant flowers on his way home. He'd been 'saved' by the stabby Robin, which had caused him to then also lose his laptop as they crashed to the rooftop a few streets over.
Thankfully, he had an amazing best friend in Tucker, who was doing his best to recover as much data as possible. On the downside, though, Tucker was mad at him for now having saved a backup of his files since they left Amity. He'd fled to the roof to escape his wrath, plans of bribes in the form of food running through his mind, when he'd caught sight of the Stars. Holy shit. It was so clear tonight!
He didn't even realise he'd begun to glow and float, too caught up in naming all of the stars and constellations he could see. His Obsession was feeling very satisfied tonight. Usually he had to invisibly fly above the cloud cover to see such a sight. Sure, the light pollution was still bad, but his mind was able to fill in the blanks across the sky.
The moment Jason landed on his roof, Danny heaved a great sigh. Damnit. The fun police were here. He wrenched his eyes from the sky, only to notice that - oh, shit - he was floating again. He fell to the roof with a light thump.
"Heeeyyy stranger, come here often?" Danny asked, as he rolled over to his side, propping his head up on his hand.
#now it's your turn#how does Jason respond to this?#danny just casually in a 'paint me like one of your french girls' pose without even realising#jason coming to the realisation that oh shit. he's hot.#danny and tucker move to gotham for university#in my mind Sam becomes a chef#so that she can promote healthy tasty eating that's meat free#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp#dp x dc#dp x dc fanfic#dc x dp fanfic#someone please find this and add to it
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Simon coming home to sleepy partner💤☁️
nsfw below the cut 🪽 mdni 🤍
Simon, more often than not, comes home late after getting back from deployments. seeing as after landing on home soil, they still have to mission debrief, collect and pack up their belongings and say their goodbyes, Simon is itching to get back home - back to you.
When he does, and you're all curled up in your shared bed, head resting on his pillow, one of his shirts clutched tight to your chest, sound asleep in his sweater, which had ridden up the arch of your spine to reveal thin cotton panties that have him straining at his boxers. It's when your eyes open at the sound of him dumping his bags, half lidded and lazy until you register his presence and spring up in the bed, running to meet him with tears of relief already pooling on your lower lashes.
By no means does Simon Riley consider himself a needy man - in fact, quite the opposite, he's practised restraint his entire life. That said, after months away with nothing but his hand and some very private polaroids to sort himself out, he's desperate, already pushing you back until the backs of your knees are hitting the bedframe, collapsing underneath him with the thick comforter giving a whooshing exhale of air under the sudden addition of your bodyweight.
The latest deployment had been especially tough, stationed in some shithole with no cell service or access to a secure line. Soap had been fine, copping off with local women when he grew bored of his hand, Gaz had Simon fully convinced that he had some kind of erectile dysfunction with how long he could go with no contact, whilst Price and Simon had to settle with a few grainy photos of their partners and the thought that they'd soon be home.
Now, when he noses at your neck and smells sweet perfume and your laundry detergent, it feels very much like a wet dream coming true. He doesn't even bother to fully take your panties off before he's thumbing at your clit through the flimsy material, stripping himself of his gear with one hand. He quickly grows frustrated with the way his dick is straining at the fly of his pants, grunting as he pulls his hand away to strip his clothes off, whilst you take the opportunity to lose your panties, throwing them vaguely in the direction of the hamper , parting your legs and bending them at the knee, waiting for him with your bottom lip chewed anxiously between your teeth.
He doesn't even bother kicking his clothes away, kneeling on where they're piled up at the side of the bed as he grabs your hips with hands that have forgotten to be gentle after being rough for so long, pulls you to the edge of the bed, hooking his forearms under your thighs and splaying his hands over your stomach as he noses at your clit. There's a feral, barely concealed glint in his eye as he whispers kisses against your cunt, murmuring how bad he missed you, about how you look more beautiful than when he left.
"Missed y' so fuckin' much baby. Missed your angel face." He growls into your skin, the tears mixing in your eyes split between need and pure relief.
He doesn't even bother with his fingers as he licks a hot stripe between your folds, your hips twitching under his hands as he savours you like a last meal.
"Si.." You whine out sweetly, voice whiny and utterly pathetic.
"Tha's right. Tha's it, gonna let me hear ya?" His Mancunian accent, eroded around the edges from years of travel, and the rumble of his voice have you on edge, hands gripping into the sheets as you let your eyes fall back into your head swimming with utter bliss.
"Mmhm!"
Not even a minute later, Simon looks utterly perplexed as you try and shimmy yourself away from his tongue, despite the way your thighs are clamped like a vice around his ears.
"Wha's wrong baby?" He growls, messy brows furrowed in concern as he looks up at you in the near darkness of your bedroom.
"Jus' need you, Si." You whine, body short circuiting as you consciously attempt to free his face from between your legs whilst the animal side of your brain compels you to keep him there and continue the ecstasy his tongue spearing into you provides.
Your needy words cause his expression to perk up as he gently guides your knees outwards so he can actually remove his face from where it's stuffed between your thighs and cunt.
From your position on the bed, and his kneeling beside it, you'd been unable to see the way his cock was already hard and leaking, bouncing against his stomach, but as he pushes you back to the centre of the mattress, you got a full view of his pretty dick as he lines the pearly tip against your entrance, smearing precum against it as though to make the stretch easier (which is a total placebo).
His fingers loop through yours as he notches his tip inside, refusing to blink as you take him to the hilt with a quiet whine, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you fight the urge to squeeze your eyes shut.
"Fuck, 've missed seein' you take me so well." the sound of his grunts and the lewd squelch which accompanies his thrusts is the only thing besides your airy moans and his soft growls filling your blissful bedroom.
The sight of you alone has him almost embarrassingly close to finishing inside of you, but when your pussy flutters around him and you give a choked off keen before cumming around his cock, he gives up on any restraint, snapping his hips so that his tip hits your cervix, ropes of hot cum spilling into your tight heat as he lets his head fall into the crook of your neck, repeating how perfect you are, how much he loves you and missed you.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
Meant for this to be some cutie, fluffy little brainrot not 1k of smut
Sorry! (not sorry!😚)
also this isn't edited because rereading my own writing makes me cringe so apologies 4 any mistakes 🩷
#cod mwii#cod mw2#tf 141#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#Simon ghost Riley x f!reader#Simon ghost Riley x yn#Simon Riley x reader#simon riley x f!reader#Simon Riley x yn#Simon riley#ghost x reader#ghost x f!reader#ghost x y/n#ghost simon riley#ghost mw2#simon riley x you#ghost cod#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x y/n#simon riley cod#ghost call of duty#cod ghost#cod#cod simon riley#ghost#ghost riley#call of duty#simon riley smut#ghost smut
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hiii !!
this is my first time requesting smth so sorry if I’m not making sense !! 😭
can u do jjk boys / men with short reader ?? can u also include megumi ?
thank you !
SHORTIE — JJK MEN + SHORT PARTNER
featuring. megumi fushiguro, toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, nanami kento x reader
warnings. none
note. hii jelly!! don't worry love you're doing great, and thank you for requesting! sorry it took so long :( i hope you like this. also, guys, omg you don't know how thankful i am to reach 500+ followers in a short amount of time, i'm going to sob. i love you all so much <;33
MEGUMI FUSHIGURO. i feel like he doesn't mind at all, he did say his type was someone with an unshakable character — so he could obviously care less about your height. in fact, he'd be pretty much delighted, he finds you adorable (but let's face it, he'd never tell that to your face).
it sounds cliche but megumi would be the one to help you get things from higher places, and when he can't reach them either — he'd carry you up his shoulders to let you grab it. if there's one other thing that he loves besides your personality, it's your height.
so when anyone tries to bring you down with that, megumi would definitely be up to defend you; saying there's no problem with your height and how much he likes that about you.
"what're you talking about? they look just fine." megumi mutters out, scratching the back of his head, his eyes averting to the side.
"so what if they're short? why does that matter?"
"'t doesn't matter what you think, i like them, so what?"
just, he's always going to defend you about your height so the next second you feel conscious about it — he's going to ask you if anyone said anything, and if you said yes (he'll make sure to find out who it is behind your back), and if you said no (he'll tell you how much he loves you, your height, and everything about you).
TOJI FUSHIGURO. big tease, will definitely make fun of your for it, he calls you "shortie", it's just his default nickname for you. the first time het met you, he's just decided that he'd go with the name "shortie" instead of "y/n".
he's going to ask you to grab something for him, and when you realized it's something out of reach, it's just his act to make fun of you, "hey shortie, grab my favorite mug for me."
and when you opened the mug cabinet, his mug is just sitting on the very top — you looked at him with a defeated smile and let out a laugh. he would always end up taking it for himself, patting your head on the way with a satisfied laughter.
though sometimes, you feel a little self-conscious when he makes fun of your for your height, and toji would caught up to it almost immediately.
"what's up, shortie? why'd you look so sad, hm?"
"am i really that short?" he cocked his eyebrow and hummed out, signaling that it's a yes indeed. but he scoffs after.
"so what?" he mutters out, laying his hand on top of your head before walking away, don't worry it's just his way of telling you he loves you. you'd feel so much better after that.
that's why he kept calling you shortie, no matter how self-conscious you get, he ends up encouraging you about it. so he never bothered stopping (and he never thought of stopping the nickname).
GOJO SATORU. like toji, i feel like gojo is a big tease as well. he absolutely loves your height, he's a tall man, and having such a short partner is a fun thing to him. he loves making fun of you (in a cute way) — and so you didn't mind it at all, since you know that gojo didn't mean it literally.
"oh, i didn't see you there! you're so small i could just step on you." he marvels out with a toothy grin before scooping you into his embrace.
with that being said, gojo absolutely loves carrying you on top of his shoulders, and when he has the chance to, he won't waste the chance to ask you how it feels like to be so much taller. you always comply with his jokes as well so he loves teasing you a lot, cause you give out reactions to him.
"how does it feel to be tall?" he asks you, hand gripping on your hips, holding you in place so you wouldn't fall.
"not bad, definitely could feel the heat up here, must suck being so close to the sun," you replied back, patting his head gently and gojo chuckles, letting you down.
being short isn't so bad when you have a giant to protect you from the heat, he's like your personal umbrella. so, you weren't going to complain about it at all.
also, gojo wouldn't let you talk bad about your height. he's your number one fan, don't tell me otherwise.
NANAMI KENTO. he absolutely adores you. he loves how his shirt looks big on you, he loves how small you look next to him, he loves how you always use him as a shield for anything, he just loves you.
most of the time, you'd feel a little bad about your height — but nanami would tell you how it doesn't matter and how much he loves you. he has his ways of showing his love to you and your height. nanami would sometimes use you as a place to rest his arm, at first you thought he was making fun of you, but he wasn't and i guess it's now just a normal thing for the both of you.
nanami loves tucking your head under his chin when you're both relaxing, watching a movie, cooking, anything — he just loves pulling you close and laying his chin on top of your head. he tells you it feels comfortable, and so that has also been a normal thing for the both of you.
having a small height means teeny tiny body parts. your hands, especially; he's in love with how small they are compared to his. how your hand always tugs on his shirt when you're out, he's hand would engulf yours completely, and he makes sure you're well taken care of when you both go out (it would be hard if you'd get lost in the crowd).
one thing he adores is a habit that you always do when he's busy. of course you wanted attention, and when you wanted his attention — he'd find you tugging at his shirt, his suit, his hand with your own while muttering out a, "boyfriend, boyfriend".
he's just so in love with you and everything about you, and with that, you've slowly come to love your own height. thanks to him.
© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#fluff#jjk#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#megumi fushiguro#megumi fushiguro x reader#jjk megumi#megumi x reader#jujutsu megumi#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk toji#toji x reader#nanami kento#nanami kento fluff#nanami x reader#jjk nanami#kento nanami#jujutsu nanami
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Steve and Robin have spent most of their shifts at Family Video, whispering and giving each other suggestive glances whenever a pretty girl walks through the door. Steve used to hate it whenever Tommy H. made him do stuff like this, but it's different with Robin. Less about objectifying and more about admiring a woman's beauty — at least, that's what Robin tells him when he brings it up one day.
With his conscious clean, he leans into it, and the two have so much fun silently staring at pretty girls. They learn that they have pretty much the same taste in women — minus Tammy Thompson — which isn't surprising considering they share just about everything in common.
And while it's fun sharing glances and watching each other blush red when the cute girl gives one of them more attention, Steve also wishes he had someone who would do that with him when he spots a cute guy in the mix. Steve tried to bring it up to Robin once, but she wasn't having it.
"Stevie," she leveled. "All I see is a faceless blurb that smells too much like pine. You're the only guy for me."
So, he let it go.
-
Eddie and Gareth have a similar game they play whenever they drive out to Indy. Gareth is usually the one to point out a petite blonde walking in their favorite record shop. If she heads to the metal section, Eddie can make a move. If it's anything else, Gareth gets to try.
Nine times out of 10, it's Gareth who flirts his way to a phone number.
Not that Eddie minds.
He has just as much fun watching his friend hopelessly flirt while casually checking out the guys who wander in the record store.
Gareth always gives him a friendly nudge whenever he notices Eddie staring too long at the back of some guy's short haircut, but it's not the same as the gentle ribbing they give each other when a cute girl walks in.
Gareth isn't into guys like he is, and that's fine.
But sometimes Eddie wishes he had someone to compare his taste in men with.
-
When Steve and Eddie realize they're both bisexual, they rejoice. Finally, they have someone to play their silly games with.
Except, it doesn't go at all like they'd except.
See, Steve and Eddie are both so used to having friends share their tastes in women that they don't even consider the fact that they might have different taste in men.
But they do.
They're hanging out in the lobby of the Hawkins Theater, waiting for the kids to finish getting their snacks, when Steve sees him. A guy with disheveled auburn hair and a black denim jacket cuffed at the sleeves with random patches on it. He's got a blue bandana tied around his forearm and bulky black boots.
"He's cute right?" Steve asks, nodding his head toward the guy in question.
Eddie scoffs. Scrunches up his nose like he's just smelt the worst smell imaginable and turns towards Steve. "You're kidding me, right Stevie? That dude is a grade-a-punk! A wannabe one at that! I bet he smells like cheap cigarettes and hasn't washed his hair in days."
"You smell like cheap cigarettes and don't wash your hair every day," Steve says, rolling his eyes at Eddie's outburst.
"Yeah, but I'm also broke. That guys doing it for the stupid aesthetic."
Steve scoffs and lets his eyes follow the guy until he disappears inside one of the theaters.
"Alright then, what's your type, Munson?"
Eddie hums and takes a moment to scan the crowded theater and the stops. When he turns toward Steve, he's sporting a giant grin.
"Guy. Six o'clock. By the butter dispenser."
Steve slowly turns around and nearly buckles at the knee when he spots the guy in question.
Short hair, combed back so every strand of hair is in place. He's got on a letterman jacket from one of the neighboring schools, crisp white shoes, and his left hand is tucked into the jean pocket of who he assumes to be his girlfriend.
"Him?" Steve chokes. "But he's so…"
"Pretty?"
"Jock-ish!" Steve supplies instead. "I thought you hated jocks!"
"I hate what they represent," Eddie says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He tears his eyes away from the guy and stares right at Steve. "But I can't help it if they have a cute face that's begging to be corrupted."
It isn't until days later when Steve and Eddie are both complaining to their best friends, do they realize that having different tastes might not be such a bad thing.
Especially when their taste in men is each other.
#steddie#steddie ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve harrington ficlet#eddie munson ficlet#dani writes#this is dumb but i havent shared anything in a while so here is something lol
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Your best guess is that you've been in this time loop for something north of 15 years. You've lived that day, April 9th, 1997, something like 6000 times. You think... The second most ironic thing about being in this time loop* is that you have ADHD, and time blindness has always been something you've suffered with.
The time loop hasn't helped. You'll really get into a book, and don't look up from it until it's yesterday. Or, earlier today? Or tomorrow, it's all the same day. You wake up in your bed at 8:27, having slept through your alarm, no matter what happens. You've had plenty of time to do all the classic time loop things: told everyone (they forget the next day), kissed everyone (a surprising number of people turn out to be up for itl), tried to run (you made it all the way to Memphis one day, but it didn't make any difference), tried to make everything perfect and right (harder than you'd think, and there's nothing obvious that needs fixing), and gotten yourself exploded and shot and run over. You even made it into orbit once, NASA still swearing at you on the radio the whole way up. You've robbed all the local banks, kidnapped the mayor, and stolen half the stuff in the town, just to see what people have. Why not? It's hard to have a sense of morality when there are no repercussions to any actions, at least none that last more than 24 hours.
You convinced a scientist to shoot neutrinos at you once, thanks to something you'd read in a book on time. Didn't seem to make any difference, though you could swear the next day felt different, in some hard to define way.
You've gotten into a rhythm of starting each day and just walking out your front door, to visit a different place in the city, and knock on their door. If they're home, you ask questions, then use the answers next time to get further. If not, you let yourself in and see what their house looks like from the inside.
Even their shocking crimes no longer can shock you. Mr. Stevens is a burgler, Jenny J. is halfway through murdering her husband, Alex over on 5th street has a basement full of photos they shouldn't have, and more neighbors than you'd think are cooking meth or growing cannabis in their little backyard sheds or closets.
You can go to the police, you can confront them, you can explose them, or you can get a weapon and go all vigilante on them... It doesn't matter in the long run (and for you, the long run is very short indeed). They'll be fine the next morning, back at it again like nothing happened.
You wake up that same Wednesday morning, put on some clothes, and walk out the door. You got into a gimmick of crossing the road with your eyes closed: you know where the cars are, and if you keep the same pace, they definitely won't hit you. Besides, if you do, you wake up back in your bed. Big woop.
But you don't make it to the road this time. You trip, falling on the hard concrete of the sidewalk. What the hell? Your arms ache from catching yourself, and you have to suppress the time-looper instinct of "I hurt. Restart the loop!",at least until you figure out what happened.
You look back and there's a sneaker sitting on the sidewalk. A perfectly normal shoe, just a little skuffed up. A bit down the sidewalk, there's another, the other foot presumably.
You have a moment of equal parts panic and elation. You're out of the loop? You're out of the loop! This might be Thursday.
You gather yourself from the sidewalk and run back up the path to your door. You open the newspaper... April 9th. This is still the same day. You look back at the road, seeing the patterns of crossing cars you've seen thousands of times before. You listen, and your neighborhood sounds right. You can hear Timothy down the road yelling about baseball, so it's not 9:14 yet.
This isn't a new day. This is the day. This is your day. So why is something different? What, a partial time loop? And almost time loop? Most things are the same, but not all? It makes no sense.
You hear yelling down the road. You jog towards it, as an out of place sound just doesn't happen in your day. Around the corner there's a police officer shouting at a woman who is rapidly disrobing and flinging her discarded clothes at the officer, who is shouting at her and his radio. So far, she seems to be winning, but she's about out of linen ammunition.
You realize you don't recognize her. She's not one of the people you know, and you know everyone. She's someone new, the very anthesis of what a time loop is about. That, combined with recognizing that charicatistic disdain for consequences makes you gasp. My God... She's another time looper. She's done this day before, and it's just repeated, and now she's doing everything to see what happens. You're not alone in this crowded city anymore! You run towards her, eager to introduce yourself.
* Themost ironic thing about being in this time loop is that every copy of Groundhog Day at your local Blockbuster is checked out.
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Newlyweds
bottom!ftm Miguel x top!male reader
🕷️Word Count: 1,947🕷️
[Part One] | AFAB Language Used
CW: Menstruation (No Period Sex), Lingerie, Dom/Sub, Daddy Kink, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Impregnating, Mating Press, Lactation Mention, Praise Kink
Miguel wakes up with pain. A lot of pain. Along with discomfort and the familiar feeling and smell of blood. Of course he starts his period unexpectedly in your bed. Not only that but he has cramps and a hangover. Great way to start the morning. He hopes you at least have advil. He taps your shoulder and wakes you up.
“What's wrong?” You ask, noticing that it's still pretty early in the morning.
“I’m on my period.” He frowns. “Sorry…about your sheets.”
“Don't apologize, it's not your fault. Do you need anything? Food, meds, something hot?” You get out of the bed. Miguel shakily gets out as well.
“A shower would be nice…and some ibuprofen? Or advil?”
“No problem. Luckily for you, I have some pads or tampons you can use. I keep them for when family visits. Do you use a heating pad? I have one of those too.”
“Yeah, a heating pad would be helpful.” He nods. “I prefer pads.”
“Okay, go ahead and get in the shower, I’ll leave some clothes out for you to wear. Oh, and you’ll need to eat something too. Is there anything you prefer?”
“Whatever you can make is fine.”
“Alright, I'll get everything you need. Take as long as you want in the shower.”
.....
Miguel gets out of the shower and walks into your room. The bed is stripped and the bloody parts are being soaked in a cleaning mixture. He hopes he didn't ruin your mattress. He looks at the pair of boxers you left for him and frowns. It's no surprise that you don't have any panties, why would you? But wearing pads with boxers isn't very….safe. It's a good thing the two of you are neighbors, he’ll have to ask you to get him a pair of underwear. He pulls up the boxers half way and applies the pad, praying that it’ll do the job, and pulls it up completely. He puts on your shirt, happy that it's big on him, and puts on the pair of shorts.
He walks down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Hey..”
“Hey! There’s the meds.” You point to the bottle of ibuprofen and cup of water next to it. “I’m making pancakes. How do you like ‘em?”
“With butter and syrup.” Miguel looks at the medicine bottle and concludes that he’ll thankfully only have to take one. He hates taking pain medication because of the risks but they're unbelievably helpful. He sighs, putting a pill in his mouth and swallowing it with water.
“...Hey, at least you're not pregnant yet.” You smile sheepishly.
Miguel chuckles. “We should probably start planning for when I actually am pregnant.”
“Yeah…I’ll have to start packing my things soon, right? I don't want Gabriella to have to worry about moving her stuff here.”
He appreciates how you consider his daughter too. “That’d be the best way.”
“At least we're neighbors, that’ll make the process much easier.”
“That reminds me…can you…can you go to my house and get me a pair of panties? They're specifically made for periods…I have a box of period stuff in my closet, you’ll know it when you see it. I’d go myself but-”
“Don't worry about it, babe. I’ll get it for you. After you eat, you can go lay down in the guest bedroom, I already put the heating pad in there. If you want, I’ll pick Gabi up and bring her here.”
“Please. Thank you so much.”
“Of course.” You kiss his forehead.
Gabi walks up to your car, confused. “Why are you picking me up?”
“Your dad’s feeling sick so he asked me to come get you.”
“Oh. Is papá okay?”
“Yeah, he's fine. He’s just on his period.” You nod. “Come on, get in.”
Gabriella grimaces, feeling bad for her dad. She gets into the backseat and buckles her seatbelt.
“So…What do you think about coming to my place and eating dinner with me and your dad?”
Gabriella grins. “Are you gonna cook?”
“Of course! Whatever you want.”
“Then…Can you make burgers? I haven't had a burger in soo long! Papá sucks at cooking and he thinks fast food burgers are made of rat meat!”
You laugh. “Sure thing. What kind of burger? And do you want fries too? I can make ‘em from scratch.”
Her eyes widen. “Really? I love fries! And I really wanna try a bacon cheeseburger!”
“You got it, Gabi.”
“You’re so good at cooking! I wish Papà could cook like you.” Gabriella wipes her face clean.
“Hey! I can cook just fine, Gabi!”
“Then how come we had to order takeout the other night because you made green goop?”
“Green goop?” You look at Miguel, grinning.
“It was supposed to be green, okay?!”
“Mhm~” You hum in a sarcastic tone. “Maybe I need to save Gabi from your horrible cooking.”
“Please! You guys should get married. Then you can cook us dinner all the time!”
You look at Miguel.
Miguel looks at you and nods. “Well…Actually, mija…”
She looks at him curiously.
“We are getting married.” He can't hide his happiness.
Her entire face lights up. “Really?!” She puts her game down and stands up. “Am I really gonna get an hermanito now?!”
“Yes, mija.” Miguel chuckles.
“When are you gonna order them?!”
“...Order?” You raise an eyebrow.
“You know, go to the stork postal service and order a baby!”
You and Miguel look at her, dumbfounded.
“What?” She frowns.
“Mija…We need to teach you where babies really come from..”
After the horrifying explanation (which was actually very tame compared to the talk Miguel’s parents gave him), Gabriella accepted the fact that babies are in fact not delivered by storks. Miguel doesn't even know where she got that from.
Now she's started to see you as the second father you’ll soon become. Rather than using your name, she calls you dad. It makes you happy to know she's so accepting of you as her father. She invites you to her soccer games and school events and of course you show up to everything you can. She loves that she has two parents. It's so comforting to see the two of you in the bleachers while she's playing. And now it's a lot less likely for her to be alone at events. If Miguel’s working, you usually show up and vice versa.
And of course she’ll be the maid of honor at your wedding. She’s almost more excited about the wedding than the two of you are.
Miguel walks down the aisle, holding a beautiful bouquet of red and blue roses. He looks gorgeous. You can't wait for your honeymoon.
He walks up to you and gets into place.
“You look beautiful.” You smile at him.
“Thank you..” He replies, bashful.
You’re lost in Miguel’s beauty for the entire ceremony, only paying attention to when it's time to exchange rings, say your vows, and say “I do.”
You go in to kiss Miguel, sad that you can only peck him on the lips. You don't want to traumatize all the children with a french kiss. You pick him up and carry him bridal style.
“Do you wanna stay?” You ask.
“I wanna make our baby.” He says.
You nod and start running towards the jet you rented. Everyone in the crowd watches in shock as you abandon the wedding. Miguel throws his bouquet and a ton of people scramble to grab it. Thankfully for you two, Gabriella is staying with her grandparents so you can escape to your honeymoon without worry.
Miguel walks out of the bathroom, dressed in a beautiful lingerie set. A red lacy bra and panties along with matching stockings with garters to hold them up.
You hurry over to him. “You look amazing.” You grope his ass and give him a soft kiss. “Lay down.”
Miguel gets onto the bed and lies down, waiting for your next move. You grab his thighs and kneel in front of the bed, pulling him close to you. There's a gap in his panties for easy access. You press kisses along his thighs, occasionally sucking and biting them. You move to his pussy, pressing a kiss against his erect t-dick. He twitches in response. You bring it into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it.
“Fu- fuck–” He moans, curling his toes. He throws his head back and gasps as you start sucking him off while simultaneously slipping two of your fingers inside him. Miguel arches his back, moans getting increasingly louder as you finger him. “God yes–” He grins. “‘M gonna come-”
You pull away from him, still working his insides with your fingers. “What do you say, Miguel?”
“Pl- please~ please let me come, Daddy~”
“Good boy.” You go back to sucking on his dick. Miguel shakes as he squirts, drenching you in his pleasure. You lick up his slick before pulling away. “Tell me when you're ready.” You stand up and take your clothes off.
“I’m ready..” He moves backwards and spreads his folds with two of his fingers. “Please breed me, Daddy..”
You smirk. You climb onto the bed and align your length with his hole. Miguel watches intently as you slowly ease yourself inside him. The two of you watch as a bulge appears in his stomach the further you go in. “You're gorgeous, Miguel.” You run your hands up his body and grope his breasts. “You’ll let me get a taste once you start lactating, right?”
Miguel smiles. “Just a taste.”
You bring him into a deep kiss and inch yourself further inside him. Miguel gently moves his hips once he feels you bottom out, desperate to have you fuck him. You part from the kiss and move to his neck, lightly kissing his skin. “I love you.” You murmur before pulling away. You grab his legs and move him into a mating press. Miguel barely has time to process what you just did thanks to your sudden and rough thrusts. He grabs onto your shoulders, nails digging into your skin, and moans loudly as you properly breed his pussy. He can barely keep his eyes focused but just glimpsing upon your aroused expression makes his heart race even faster. It perfectly displays how much you love him and how good he's making you feel. He happily listens to your breathy words of praise and your low sounds of pleasure, falling deeper in love with you as the two of you completely tie yourselves together forever. He’s never been happier.
He already feels himself reaching his orgasm. “‘M clo- oh- close~!” He cries out. “Fuck-” He gasps, suddenly coming. He digs deeper into your skin when he feels you slow down. “Don’t- don’t you dare stop-” He almost growls at you. You take that as a warning and resume your previous pace. He manages to stay sane even as you continue to fuck his sensitive cunt, all for the sake of feeling you impregnate him. Just that is enough to give him strength to keep going.
“You're doing so- so good, Miguel.” You let out a low sound of pleasure. “Such a good boy for me..”
He moans happily.
“And you feel so fucking good..” Your breathing becomes more labored. “Making me come so fast with your tight pussy-” You groan, stopping as you fill him up with your first load of the night. He feels euphoric as your cum invades his insides.
“More…” He looks up at you with the cutest expression.
“I won't stop until I’m shooting blanks, baby.”
Miguel grins. He can't wait to spend the rest of his life with you and your kids.
#wicks🕯works#top male reader#male reader#dom male reader#miguel smut#miguel o'hara x reader#bottom miguel o'hara#miguel x male reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x male reader#across the spiderverse smut#across the spiderverse x male reader#🕯️miguel o'hara#🕯️marvel#🕯️spider man
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