#it would have to be cleaned up but it is pretty much finished

[katsu2ji]

mha boys + their fav thing to do with you (or for you) during the holiday season

a/n: it's my favorite time of the year <3 merry christmas to those who celebrate!! posting this on christmas eve, i hope everyone has the best day <3 ily!

izuku: baking christmas cookies

izuku makes the BEST deserts. his mother taught him when he was young and although he was reluctant to learn at first ("mom, i’m sorry but learning how to make the perfect pie is not my biggest concern right now..."), it's now a skill he's come to appreciate—especially when you're involved. one of his favorite things to do with you, at any point in the year but especially during christmas, is baking cookies—or rather, he's do most of the baking while you're sitting on the countertop watching him do so. there's christmas jazz playing through the space as you both talk about your days, laughing and making a mess that neither of you are too worried about cleaning in the moment. he gives you the spoons to lick when he's finished with them, smiling when you nod your approval of the taste. while they're in the oven, you two dance in the low kitchen light; it's not graceful, by any means, but it's silly and stupid and makes you both feel as though you're the only ones in the world. this warm, love filled kitchen on a cold winter's night, just for the two of you.

katsuki: decorating with you

katsuki would never admit it, but he takes his christmas decorating very seriously. he insists that if you're going to decorate for the holidays, you might as well make it look nice. you ask him to take down the christmas decorations from storage and while he pretends to find the task annoying, he actually is looking forward to doing this with you. he loves seeing how excited you get when he plugs in the lights on the tree and watch as they light up the dark living room, or how much you love the small task of switching out the normal pillows on the couch for the winter themed ones. his favorite part about it all, however, is putting up the ornaments; together you've collected a few over the years, some more heartfelt while others are silly inside jokes between the two of you. he teases you when you put one in a spot he doesn't agree with ("why the fuck did you put it there, that's ugly." "katsuki, no it's not!" "yes the hell it is, move it over here.") and you know it's all lighthearted as you laugh at the faces he makes about your "questionable" placements. this is all such a temporary thing, he knows—the decorations will only be up for about a month and a half, if that. but it's special for him. a time where he can forget about the rest of the world; where he only has to focus on you and your terrible (but endearing) tree decorating skills.

shoto: christmas shopping

when you two go out shopping together, he takes note of anything that you point out and like. later, he comes back after a patrol shift; he tells you he's picking up dinner, and while that's not a total lie and he is going to bring home something, he also needed to make time to pick up your gifts. he has never felt as though he's very good with words, but gifts he can do. and he never stops at one, of course—he makes sure you have a lot. he fills the space under the tree with them, all addressed to you; just when you think there couldn't be any more, you come home to find another two of three presents has been added. he starts his gift shopping earlier in the year, getting things here and there when he can. by december 1st, he's gotten pretty much everything he's been looking for, and he asks fuyumi and his mom to help him wrap them nicely for you (wrapping gifts is unfortunately NOT his strong suit). he's even particular about the wrapping paper he uses, not caring that it's more expensive than others on the market or that it's going to be ripped; these are gifts for you, for christ's sake. he's going to make sure that everything is perfect—that you have the best christmas, every christmas.

eijiro: walking out in the snow

eijiro loves the snow, and he loves the holiday season even more. he loves how magical everything is this time of year, how carefree life feels. when the first snowfall comes one evening, he's making sure both your puffer jacket and his is zipped up all the way and that you're nice and toasty, before practically running outside. you two go for a walk through the city, admiring the way the snow blankets everything around you and makes the world seem softer, lighter. when a breeze comes by, he huddles impossibly closer to you, grabbing your hands and holding them in his coat pocket to warm you up. you two stop at the windows of decorated shops, watching the little toy trains and miniature christmas towns on display in the stores. he looks at your reflection in the window and grins, happy and content, even as the frigid air makes him feel as though he wants to sit in a furnace. he loves moments like these. it's a simple and mundane thing, taking a walk, but something about doing it with you, in an atmosphere that looks as though you've both stepped right into a christmas town in a fairytale, makes him wish for a white christmas every year.

hanta: watching christmas movies

before he met you, hanta had never made it a point to watch christmas movies, really. now, however, it's his favorite tradition. he looks forward to the evenings when the two of you change into your matching christmas-themed pajama pants, having bought them just for the occasion. you go into the kitchen to make hot chocolate while he scrolls through the movie selection, attempting to put on the corniest, dumbest, most cliche hallmark holiday movie he can find. the whole time you both are cuddled on the couch, leaning against each other as you watch the movie together, making fun of the bad acting, the overdone movie tropes, and every other menial detail. you laugh at all the jokes he makes, all the small things he notices and points out to you. the first movie ends, and before either of you can stop yourselves, you've both fallen asleep together on the couch halfway through the third. it's a quiet night, the only sounds being the quiet noise of the still-playing movie and the soft snores of the two of you. when he wakes up first, he doesn't make any effort to wake you immediately, instead opting to watch you sleep peacefully against him. "this is what the holidays are about" he thought, as cheesy as it sounds. he didn't need anything more; he wasn't sure it could be any better than this.

katsu2ji © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[isadelusions]

Daisuke [Mouthwashing]

| vlogger x editor(reader) au | fem reader | fluff | pt1 > pt2

┊͙ ⋆. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･. ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･. ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄ ೃ࿔*:･. ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄┊͙

Pretty Duo hm?

- He’s been making videos for quite a while and hired an editor because he isn’t too experienced with editing.

- He makes a video pretty much every week, sends it to you, tells you some details he would for his video with a little, you’ll edit, sends the finished product, he loves it and post. Repeat.

- After a few weeks, the both of you started chatting with each other regularly,checking up on each other, talked about the similar hobbies you guys share, laughing at each other’s cringe roblox usernames. You guys even decided to have matching avatars.

-From chatting daily to having voice calls for random game nights to FaceTiming. You were shy at first to reveal your face but as time goes by, you eventually got comfortable with it. (Bro was gagged by your face card)

“I must be lucky to have a pretty editor like you. ;)” ,that line totally send butterflies to your stomach.

- One time he asked if you would like to be in a video and play roblox with him. At first you were quite hesitant since his number of followers were slowly rising and afraid that it would destruct his fans.

“Well if they start hating me, just let them. I rather have that then having some fake fans you know??” “Plus I’m just here to have fun so what can they do? Mhm?”

- After his reassurance, you agreed and record the video together online.

—— ✿ ——

“heyyy guysss I’m back again to play some roblox BUT this time with some company, guys act shocked act shocked,just kidding. Anyways this time I’ll be playing with my lovely editor~”, his screen showing both him and your avatar, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

There was a long pause. “Um…hi?” You said awkwardly as you don’t have much experience being recorded.

But after a while,you got used to it and the both of you decided to play some two player obbies. At first it was going smoothly, just simple jumps and walks. However, when you guys got closer to the end, the difficulty rises.

“DAISUKE PLEASE DONT MISS THE JUMP OR I MIGHT ACTUALLY BREAK. DOWN.”

“STOPP,YOUR STRESSING ME PRETTY GIRLL”

Your skin tingles every time he calls you that but it didn’t make you feel better. He indeed did miss the jump.

…a very long silence

“Alright,breathe in….and breathe out… We can do this..”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, let’s try one last time before I might actually start raging”

You guys were extremely locked in and passed the final stage miraculously.

“WE DID ITTT (y/n), YAYYY”

“EYY GOODJOBB”

You made your character walk in circles around daisuke’s character and he mirrors your actions too.

You then looked at the time to realise it took almost two hours to complete the obbies, it’s already 1am which is quite alright since we’re used to it but you suddenly remembered you had other ‘important’ plans in the morning and cut off daisuke’s next sentence.

“hmm what should we play next-”

“As much as I would love to continue this all with you but I really have to head to bed right now”

“Ouh finally sleeping quite earlier then usual, aren’t we?”

“well I do have plans for tomorrow, quite important to me heh..”

“Okayy then, have a good sle-” he then pauses, his mind recalling his previous chats with you and the puzzle pieces matched. “Wait, your going to that cat cafe you talked about right??? I do remember you sending me a post about it opening for tomorrow or more like ‘later in the morning’ hmm?”

“Yeaaa, oh wait I did told you about it.”

“Could I go with you,pleasee. It’s not too far from my area and plus you get to meet ‘this gorgeous cool guy’ for first time in your lifeee.”

You felt ??? by the sudden plan of his, “mhmmm sure I don’t mind honestly”

“wait really??” “Ofcourse”

“I’ll text you the details later before I head to bed, I gotta go get myself cleaned up. Do remember to send me the clips before heading to bed. Soo I’ll see you tomorrow then hm? ;)”

“Yupp, I’ll see ya tomorrow. Have a good sleep if it’s possible~”

“Alright, goodnight pretty boy” You immediately left the call and got up from your seat, heading to the bathroom to get a quick wash up.

The excitement for ‘tomorrow’ was rising in you but yet feeling nervous and curious. How tall would he be? Would his behaviour be completely different? The thoughts were filling up your mind.

You head to bed with your phone, texting him about the plans while your allow your body to lay on the bed,sheets covering your body, head against your soft pillow.

“How about we meet up at a metro station first? Then we could walk tgt to the cat cafe? How does that sound to you?”

“That sounds great to me;)”

Daisuke replied almost instantly and brought up about having matching outfits and of course you couldn’t turn that offer down.

“hmm let’s match in colours then?”

“Suree”

“Any colours in mind?”

“Hmm, not really”

“Me too honestly. How about I’ll choose it tmr while I pick my outfit hm?”

“Sure but don’t be too lateee”

“Says the one who rarely reads chats in the morning”

“Man shut it, as if you’ll wake up in time”

“Okay okay you win. I guess I gonna sleep now or I’ll be late right, pretty?”

“Alright, goodnight to you”

“Night to you as well”

A small smile plastered across your face as you place your phone onto the small table beside you.

It def took you almost like an hour to only fall asleep due to your own excitement.

-I can picture daisuke kicking his own legs before having his sleep lol

┊͙ ⋆. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･. ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･. ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄ ೃ࿔*:･. ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄┊͙

I think it will take a long while for me to post parts for this,I’m still new to writing and honestly I’m scared I won’t be able to write the next part. Anyways I hope you guys had a little joy in reading this,take care of your health!loveyouu byee~ :o

[lycapicta]

Siffrin Headcanons bc i cant sleep

As soon as bro said nya in my game he was assigned the required paws and tail

Doesn't unsheath claws unless he's not wearing gloves they dont wanna ruin them :((

Hair does become completely white after a while but he was talked into dyeing it two tone style again since it suits him

Idea stolen from a friend, but I very much like the idea of Siffrin being albino would explain why he's covered up most of the time

He does not tan he burns...

You all know who I am: Siffrin definitely purrs

He continues his touch therapy outside of the loops and is pretty good with it! He does still get spooked sometimes when he's not ready

Still struggles quite a bit with asking for affection or attention (its easier for him to ask for it from Isabeau)

Cried the first time they ate something outside of the loops

Regularly gets combs or brushes from Mira, but he lets Isa do it once in a while bc he gets jealous lol

Sif didn't completely lose his eye but it is dead (i.e. cant cry out of it, cloudy/damaged) he also can't open it fully and usually settles for having it closed

Their eye patch covers it most of the time but in my design his eye scar is star shaped :)

Spoilery headcanons below the cut

Despite Mira’s healing Sif has lots of scars from hurting himself in the final confrontation with his friends

He has a huge star shaped gash on his chest that mimics Loop's, albeit significantly less clean looking

Has small scars on his arms from the self harm event that you can get in act 5 if you interact with the shard of glass (tries to hide them *unsuccessfully* from his family members at first)

Has chronic pain (something i thought of since the pain he goes through for each of his deaths while looping sort of carries over)

They often have spells where they're in too much pain to move or speak. In these cases the family finds an inn or a place to lay low for a while until it passes. He gets lots of pampering and good foods

This is explored in a fic i haven't finished but Mira teaches Siffrin VSL (Vaugardian Sign Language) to help whenever he becomes nonverbal. He uses it regularly but still struggles a lot with matching Vaugardian words to their respective hand signs

Seems to recall more and more things abt his country as he gets older but he never truly remembers everything (Odile writes everything that she can down for him)

I imagine when the party DOES eventually split up Isabeau and Siffrin still travel a lot, but have their own place in Jouvente whenever they need to settle for a while.

Siffrin is excited to see everyone else's hometowns/countries and is always so happy to see everyone again

Siffrin LOVES touch post loops and is usually all over Isabeau (Isa still has not recovered lmao)

For a long time after everything and even recently Siffrin is enamored with the changes in the weather and the seasons (particularly the rain and snow or the rumble of thunder)

The first night that he experienced a storm after the loops he stayed up for a while watching the rain and listening to the thunder (he had to be coaxed to get his butt in bed)

I also headcanon that he enjoys being out in the rain a lot even if he does become a sopping wet cat afterwards

He never truly gets his original hat back and still has remnants of mannerisms he'd done when he had it (trying to pull down on the brim when embarrassed, etc.)

Isa regularly does a bit of maintenance on his cloak to keep it in good condition (no one else is allowed to touch it)

Sif has episodes where he'll stare up at the stars and sob. He's usually inconsolable, and all the others can do is just be there to give him comfort

Whenever Sif has nightmares he has them in that strange shade (red)

[mrskomireid]

Christmas Lights & Nutmeg Cookies

summary: christmas fluff ♡

warnings: none

a/n: anyone who knows me also knows that i pretty much only write angst, so i decided to try my hand at something lighter 😽

word count: 866

------------

The soft glow of the Christmas lights Spencer had been struggling to untangle days before bathed your apartment in a warm, golden light. The scent of the gingerbread you’d baked hours before still lingered in the air before you both moved on to the next task, sugar cookies. While simplistic enough that they weren’t really a challenge, Spencer was going all in for his first year hosting the BAU Christmas get-together.

He offered you a bite of his latest batch, after determining the last 3 weren’t quite right. “Did I do good?” He asked as the sweetness melted on your tongue.

“That’s perfect, keep that recipe.” You responded.

“It’s the nutmeg,” He declared proudly, “For a batch of 36 I used half a teaspoon, it's subtle but it makes all the difference.”

“You know, I wasn’t so sure that Christmas cookies were something that could be scientifically perfected but of course, it's you that managed to prove me wrong.” A slight laugh escaped you at the idea that he’d spent hours treating a sugar cookie recipe like it was String Theory.

He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t worry, I’ll credit you on my genius recipe too.” He moved over to the dining table, sitting cross-legged on the chair, tucking his long legs beneath him, “Now let’s hope I don't mess the batch up with bad icing skills.”

You sigh a little at the mess left by Spencer’s repeated attempts at baking, knowing that he won’t clean it himself. He’s perfect, really, but his one downfall is the mess he unconsciously leaves in his wake. You get to work scrubbing bowls and mixer whisks as he meticulously pipes icing onto a reindeer-shaped cookie.

“I think I cracked the code,” He said, his brows furrowed in concentration. “The key is steady pressure, not too much at once. That way the antlers don’t look… asymmetrical.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you spotted the shabby icing job he’d done on a few other cookies, you walked over to him, drying your hands with the handtowel. “Took you a few tries but it looks like you’ve got the hang of it now.” You look at the one he’s finishing, “Spence, that reindeer looks amazing. You might’ve missed your calling as a pastry chef.”

He gave you a sheepish smile, his cheeks flushing slightly, “I think the team would tease me relentlessly if I moonlighted at a bakery. But, you know, this is actually therapeutic…especially when you have a partner cleaning up after you.”

“I told you it’s calming!” You teased, nudging his shoulder lightly. “And you said baking wasn’t your thing.”

He reached for another cookie, this one shaped like a star, and began decorating it with such diligent precision that was so very Spencer. You sit in the chair next to him, content to watch him work for a moment. There was something so endearing about seeing him in this setting, this domesticity was a huge contrast to the rest of his life.

“Alright,” You said, standing up and holding your hand out to him, “baking break. Time for a movie.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up, though he tried to feign nonchalance. “Do you already have one picked out?”

“I’ve never watched it before but it's a classic…” You say, grinning, knowing how he loves anything that’s referred to as a classic. The opening notes of It’s a Wonderful Life filled the room, and Spencer's expression softened.

“Fantastic choice,” He muttered, setting his finished cookie and the piping bag aside.

You both nestle into the couch, and you place a fluffy blanket over the two of you. Spencer shifted his weight slightly and gently grabbed your hand under the blanket. His warmth was comforting and couldn’t resist the urge to rest your head on his shoulder, he reacted in turn and rested his head on top of yours. His sweater smelled faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, the result of the baking spree he’d just indulged in.

As the movie played, his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on the back of your hand. You found yourself focusing on him and his presence more than the screen, admiring the way the glittering lights on the Christmas tree reflected in his hazel eyes. When George Bailey’s troubles began to develop, Spencer leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Did you know Jimmy Stewart was nervous during the filming of this scene? It was one of his first roles after returning from World War II.”

You smiled, finding it adorable how his mind was always finding facts and stories to tell you, “I didn’t know that, thanks for the tidbit, Dr. Reid.” He chuckled slightly, his breath warm against your cheek.

As the movie neared its ending, you found yourself unable to concentrate on anything but the feeling of being wrapped up with Spencer, the soft rumble in his chest as he laughed, and how it warmed the room. You both hear a soft patter against the window and turn to look out of it, seeing snow falling, blanketing the world outside in a crisp white sheet. And inside, everything felt alive with Christmas magic- laughter, love, and sugar cookies.

[starscream-official]

Posted this on my main but hello chat

Fanfic below, it takes place in my transformers continuity, Transformers: Neuro.

"What do you see, Malpractice?"

Shockwave asks, voice low and charged, hoping to gauge the reaction of the procedure on Malpractice's mind.

Malpractice thrashes against his restraints, trying not to fight, but failing. He asked for this. He wanted this. He wanted to be fixed. And that's what he was getting.

"I-I see-!" Mal stammers out with a cry, humiliated at the sight of himself. He could see the way Megatron and Soundwave stood idly by with interest, and he knew that he looked utterly pathetic. Useless. This is why he's getting him processor cut. Because he feels too much shame.

"NghAGH!" He sobs, feeling the pick stab through the socket of his optics. "It HURTS!" he bangs the back of his helm against the gurney, feeling the energon flow from the corner of his socket, where the pick settles untouched by Shockwave's servo.

"Quiet down. Tell me what you see, Malpractice." Shockwave hushes the raging experiment, addressing him almost like some sort of agonized beast.

"I-I see- an alcove- wi-ith lambs," he cries, words slurring as he babbles each sentence. "Ble-aATING- aughhHH!! A-A mural of the m-o-oon!" He convulses, optics squeezing shut, forcing the pick deeper. He sobs out, a sparkling, sensitive, in need of care, of compassion, knowing he will be receiving none. Not from Shockwave. Not from Megatron. Not from Primus.

"No." Shockwave replies coldly, pressing Malpractice down into the gurney using his shoulders. The poor bot begins to hiccup, settling in, though his whole faceplate throbs with an aching pain. "Relax, and we can continue with the operation." He turns to grab a cloth from his equipment, wiping away the tears and excrement from Malpractice's faceplate.

Malpractice leans in to whatever touch he can get, whatever tenderness is left for him, his bottom derma quivering with emotion as he realizes-

That this.. this is it for him.

Shockwave finishes cleaning the spillage, before continuing the procedure.

"Shockwave," Megatron's gritty voice cuts through the sound of Malpractice sniffling and calming down, addressing the "scientist."

"You were certain this would have no effect on Malpractice's optics." He scowls, but he's willing to hear the other bot out on this. "And yet, here he is, spilling energon. Explain."

"He will be just as efficient, though his movements have caused me to press just enough to make him bleed. It is a minor inconvenience, but not one I cannot get past."

Shockwave adjusts the pick, moving it about forty five degrees up, sideways, down.

And suddenly, Malpractice stops, optics dimming into grey voids-

I see an alcove. Lambs, organic life forms, unhurt, piling against one another, bleating in conversation, lovingly nuzzling their fellow sheep of the herd, a beautiful mural of the moons of cybertron painted delicately on the ceiling, illuminated in the dim light.

How pretty.

[hylian-twink]

heyyyy, so i know i’m supposed to be working on my magnum opus botw retelling but what if i told you i had a 23k word ficlet where link is pregnant with sidon’s kid already finished?? would anyone want that? just wondering hehe hypothetically…..

[milkweedman]

Needed something to do last night bc I couldn't sleep, and spinning takes about a million times less brain power than knitting or crochet, so now I'm working on this.

Its from a 2.8 ounce batt that I had labeled southdown Romney blend, and I'm 99% sure that what I was told it was when I bought it (I remember thinking how much I love a good southdown blend), but when I finally unrolled the batt last night it had a label that said Suffolk hampshire blend. I think that's what this is--it feels 100% down breed rather than a down and strong wool blend. Honestly I probably still would have bought it as a hampshire blend, so I don't mind that much.

No clue what to do with it. It's not soft but the prep wouldn't do for socks, which is my usual idea for coarse down wool. It's also got a much darker section that I've been trying to decide how to feature (if it's worth doing at all).

[tineymang]

i cant believe i havent posted these yet..... ive been collecting some plushies over a while to represent the guys in my eos team (and lumi) and i thought it would be a fun way to officially christen them by sewing them some lil accessories to match the ones i draw them with!

a few wip pictures below the cut!

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

Some sketches of my wizard Peri as I (slowly) work my way through Act III

[screampied]

𝜗𝜚 LIKE THIS P☆SSY DESIGNED FOR YA !?

☆ sum. you’re supposed to hate him and yet here he is talking you through yet another órgasm. toji, gojo, nanami, geto, choso.

warnings. fem! reader, exes trope, hate / make up séx, possessiveness, unprotected, dirty talk, manhandling, semi-public, toji slander, bréeding, praise, fīngering, feral whipped men, squīrting, breath play, cunnīlingus, edging, overstim.

☆ SUGURU GETO.

“sit on it.”

he didn’t have to tell you twice—because you lost the battle of temptation the second you found yourself hovering over your ex’s face. his pretty face, he’s got that same smug grin that curls against his lips with a few dimples prodding near each side of his cheeks. hooded sly eyes glance at your sopping cunt that’s dripping right through your panties and he leans back against the bed.

“c’mere, you,” and you moan once his hands leisurely drag your hips down toward his spit slick lips. geto was never one to apologize—but even if he did, instead of using words, he’d let his tongue do the talking. with his teeth, he peels your panties to the side. like always, he couldn’t stay away from you as much as you couldn’t stay away from him. you hated it, you swore you hated him and yet he’d make those feelings vanish the second his tongue’s swirling around your cunt, reminding you how hungry he was.

how hungry he was for you.

it would always be like this - after every argument, the outcome would always end up with geto between your thighs.

sure, he’d say sorry. . after his tongue’s buried inside of your cunt.

“fuuuck,” he’d grunt, laid back as his hair was all sprawled out against the sheets. geto’s voice was dangerously deep and raspy. each time he spoke, his words would vibrate against your pulsating wet pussy - his favorite meal. he could eat you out for hours until his jaw tightened and locked. the literal definition of a pussy pleaser . .

“aw, she’s missed me so fuckin’ bad,” he’d whisper in a gruff tone, dipping his pointed tongue in and out of your folds. your folds were all soddened - sopping wet and dripping like a faucet. he groans, feeling your candied juices stream down from the opening part of your clit as you throbbed in his mouth. he was slurping you clean, relishing in your sweetened fervor that ruts against his slick mouth and chin. “yeah, i know. i know,” and as you whimper with pursed quivering lips, geto lolls out his tongue allllll the way, plunging it deeper inside of your convulsing cunt. with a smug grin flattening against the edges of his lips, he licks a long stripe from top to bottom, tasting all of you. your sweet slick fully paints against the lower part of his chin until it runs down the crevices of his lips, and he moans at how sweet you tasted.

he was so messy and unapologetically so—you’ve got your knees bucked toward the sides of his head whilst you’re unsteadily grinding into his mouth. “sugu, fuck,” you’d moan, letting off a following of sweet cacophonies of ‘ooh's’ and ‘ah's’ each time his tongue slithers toward your puckering hole then back towards your needy cunt. a pretty glistening fall of water dribbles down the inner sides of your thighs and he laps it straight up as thin brows of his curve into a fixated furrow. “we didn’t even finish t- the conversation.”

“later,” he purrs in a rough hoarse tone, silencing your babbles the second his teeth playfully nibble towards your clit. you whine, feeling your weak knees on the verge of collapsing before he spat on the entrance of your folds. sloshes spurt away from your soaked cunt as you’re making a mess on his face, feeling that familiar pressure arises within the lower part of your tummy. it’s like someone was pressing down on your stomach, a wave that was preparing to crash and cause havoc. it felt so good, it was impossible to miss geto’s tongue. whenever he ate you out, he’d always eat you out like a starved man—like your sweet pussy was the last meal available on earth, and he did it with no shame.

as your hips continue to thrust sloppily against his mouth, a sleazy grin goes against his lips and he holds your thighs firmly in place, whistling against your slobbering folds. “mhm, that’s it. atta girl, less talkin’ more ridin’ this face.”

as you paw a hand through his thin tangeled tresses of hair that run through your clammy fingers—you whimper once his tongue reaches a certain spot inside of your pussy that scratches a lustful itch in your brain. “fuck!” you whine out, your hip speeding accelerating quicker. you continue to ride his face, nearly suffocating him with how your thighs had him in such a secure lock - to which he loved it, and it’s up onto the point where you end up cumming hard.

you’re gnawing on your lip once you end up finally releasing, swerving your ass against his face and feeling him slurp your entire high clean. even still, geto’s got the priggish grin plastered on his lips whilst he’s laid underneath you, two big hands glued to each sides of your thighs.

“atta fuckin’ girlll,” he’d repeat in a teasing hum, his tongue creating a slimy trail from the back part of your cunt until it reaches the tender bulb part of your clit. he sucks against it, toying with your puffy hood with his tongue before he feels you spasming on his mouth. so sweet, his long lashes flutter shut and he’s holding you tight so you stay still. “good, jus’ like old times.”

and as you’re panting, he departs his slick lips before dragging a thumb down your throbbing clit. very slowly, slippery long strands of your own juices coat his fingertip before he gives your pussy a single sloppy kiss. “now, you were sayin?”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“f- fuck you.”

“yeah girl, i’m trying,” toji snarls, using two big hands to reel you back into his sharp churlish hips.

you moan, slamming back down on his thick cock after each mouthwatering thrust. toji would be having you in doggy, spread out on all fours, arched over for him and all. it’s fat, his tip mashes through your walls and french kisses deeply against your g-spot, coating it with dozens of slick smooches. toji’s enormous girth rams through your cunt, giving it a reminder of just how much he’s missed you and it makes your toes curl every time. you could never forget that curve of his—the curve where once he dips his hips a certain way, he’s plowing his thick cock into you so deep that it makes a shiver run down your spine. he makes you feel it all, and once you grow quiet his ego gets fed a good sum.

“fuuuck, that’s it. shut that pretty mouth up ‘n take this shit,” and you whimper, feeling him claw a rough hand through your scalp. it’s a soft tug, but your head pulls back nonetheless as he’s drilling into you mercilessly.

he’s fast, toji’s got the hips of a maddened madman.

and he was always not the best whenever it came to feelings but he loved you - still.

you’re always on his mind, no matter how many rebounds—he still saw your pretty face at the end of the day. tasting you, feeling you from the inside, you had him whipped and it fucking annoyed him.

“ngh, tojiiii,” you whimper, gasping at the immense loose barrage he makes with his stocky shaft. the stretch always leaves you speechless as a plethora of inaudible babbles perish out from the back of your throat. his sack hangs loose as he fucks into you raw. a soddened slimy ring forms around his base from your wet cunt slapping back against him and he clenched his teeth, watching the fat of your ass slam back against his chiseled pelvis. “right there, right fuckin’ there toji.”

“don’t tell me how ‘ta fuck,” he gruffs, and with one mean perfunctory thrust — you let off a screaming moan, tearing your chords before a sheepish giggle follows. the dark haired man rolls his eyes, giving your ass a teasing smack. “such a nasty ‘lil bitch. forgot how much this shit turns you on.”

the bed continues to dip from the constant masses of weight slamming onto the cushions before you feel it gradually falling forward. your crossed eyes found themselves flickering back to the outer voids of your skull as you claw at the bawled up sheets. “fuck, fuck you. broke bitch.”

“girl please. let’s not even,” he pauses, smacking his lips. always so sassy. you moan once his swollen tip stills itself inside of you and you pout, not being fond of how he’d randomly stop just to mess with you. cool air sets against your skin as your back remains arched and toji swats another hand toward your ass. smack! the sting makes your body jolt in depleting rapture and you coo out a soft ‘ah’ with your lips parting.

he grunts once he ogles down at your sloppy cunt, puffed lips and aching clit. leisurely, he pulls out before bringing a fat thumb towards your entrance, maneuvering a few teasing circles. “you still let this broke bitch fuck again, so now what?”

silence was your answer — but a moan shortly follows and you eat your words, your left cheek shoved against the mattress. “f- fuck y-”

“stop talking over your pussy. have some class, baby,” and you whimper, feeling his swelling tip rub against the back of your clit. you’re drooling wet, it’s almost embarrassing and he could feel your body shaking - more, you wanted more.

toji always did this, stop fucking you in the middle just to play with you and make you squirm for him to continue. bastard. once the room shifts into utter silence, his cockhead bangs against your cunt without warning and it’s a loud sloppy ‘smack!’ that gives you whiplash from the spine down. “good girl. ‘s all i wanna hear. pretty squelches all for me, mhm.”

he continues to toy with your cunt before he leans down, spitting near the slit opening entrance whilst his scarred lips carve into a pout. “lotta talk for a pussy this fuckin’ wet,” he hears you starting to protest but your words only come out in inaudible babbles. once you try to sit up, he lightly pushes you back into the bed, having you slump forward with a soft ‘oof.’

toji grunts, feeling his heavy cock tighten up at the sight of your exposed sopping cunt seeping from the folds before he aligns his angered tip once more. “lie back, little girl. we’re far from finished,” and he spanks your cunt, sloshing soddened spurts of your own slick plopping onto his palm. “isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

and his eyes avert towards your cunt - not you. “yeah, thought so.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO.

choso can’t live without you - he’s an entire mess the second you let him fuck you for ‘one last time.’

has you in a mating press because he insists on seeing your pretty face, doesn’t care if he’s tearing up mid thrust either because he’s missed you so so bad. “you’re so pretty,” he’d moan, pumping his cock into you slowly. each thrust reminded you of the times you both spent together . . the memories, why you and him even split in the first place. choso grunts, continuously bruising your cervix with his fat tip over and over. as you’re laid on your back, your arms wrap around his broad shoulders and he flashes you a cheeky needy smile and darkened circles under his eyes. “have i told you how pretty you look right now, baby?”

“probably over ten times, ‘cho,” you’d sheepishly say, blissful moans sliding past your lips. your cunt’s grip against was purely enticing - it always was. he was forevermore addicted to the way you held onto him tight, squeezing down on him like a vice. you drag a few fingers down his undercut and he lets off a humming purr, leaning into your touch. “fuck, don’t stop, baby. keep goin, mhm.”

“missed you so bad,” he’d whine, burying his face into the crook of your neck. choso moans from the alluring scent of your perfume alone, almost tasting you in his mouth. so sweet, so so sweet and he wanted more. his perfectly sculptured body that rocked into yours started to get more sloppy with its movements. he’s passionate with his thrusts, and he knew like always he wasn’t gonna last long. he never did, not with you. choso’s slim body ruts into you, steadily grinding into your own before he starts to suck on your neck. “mpmh. ‘s been torture without you, you know. had such . . strange dreams.”

with a soft simper, you cup his flushed face, a thumb stroking against the right side of his cheek. “wet dreams, choso?”

“y- yeah,” he swallows thickly, growing embarrassed. wet dreams, that explained why whenever he’d wake up in a good mood after having erotic dreams about you—he felt so hard, so . . aroused. his cock’s aching for more, and his bulbous pink tip continues to rummage through your insides until it inspects through every spot. each ‘pop’ your cunt makes ring through your ears and he sucks his teeth at the realization of just how wet you are. “had a dream we heh, got back together. settled down, started a f . . family.”

your heart races at his words, and choso’s deeply staring into your eyes, getting lost in your tender gaze. gentle darkened irises of his dilate as he gawks at you and oh, he’s so in love. his heart thumps quicker in his chest as he pistons his hips. the punctuation of his hips grow more exclamatory with each slam against your cunt. he’s rough, but gentle at the same time - sloppy more than anything. “a family, huh?” and he can’t help but whine, hearing the words slide past your glossed lips with such simplicity.

he gives you a nod, kissing near the corner of your twitching mouth. “a baby or two,” he moans, his speed starting to get more relentless. he’s thick, his length resumes to curve and and meander through your walls, leaving it’s very mark and your legs wrap around his slim waist. as he speaks, he’s staring to paint the exact picture of a future he wants into your brain and his. “or maybe five. you’d look pretty with a plump swollen belly,” and he kisses your quivering bottom lip, this time leaning down to suck on your chin. “mhm, i just wanna make you a pretty wife. my pretty wife, ‘s what ‘m basically saying.”

as the two of you both moan in unision, you plant a wet chaste kiss on his lips. choso groans, slowly pumping more inches in and out of your sloppy cunt before leaning into your grasp. your hips were just as greedy as his were, if not more. “let’s do it then,” you’d whisper between kisses, glossed strands of saliva entangling with each other, creating viscid cobwebs. “make me your pretty wife, ‘cho. gimme a baby.”

choso’s eyes widen to the size of saucers before his thrusts slow - deep but deadly.

he’s very slow with his movements, making sure you feel every single inch, every single vein that prods down his fat cock. “okay,” he shakily says, his ears twitching at your sweet words. he’s still pressing his weight against you, feeling his piles of sweat glue against your own body and he leans in one more time, pressing a long wet kiss on your lips. he’s cutely shaking from your touch once your hands run down his back, pulling him closer. he’s fucking you deeply but at a much more romantic sweet pace. “ugh,” his eyes roll back in rapture, and he can feel himself preparing to give you the filling he’s been oh so desperately waiting for. choso grips your chin, smearing a thumb over your lips before whimpering against your lips.

“ ‘m gonna make you the prettiest mommy. promise.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO.

never in a million years would you have thought you’d be in a predicament like this—arched over an office desk with your husband, ex-husband directly behind you. he’s fucking sense back into you, giving you a simple reminder of how good you had it all with the thoroughly deep hits of his cock.

“s- sweetheart,” he’d groan, repeatedly tapping his swollen crown against your most sweetest spots. it leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth, and you’re just casually being fucked into the unsigned divorced papers. your visions clouded, all your glossed eyes were met with was the scribbles of writing and multiple lines that ran across that papers. the wood creaks and groans at the pounds of pressure slamming back and forth into it. “god, i missed you,” he’d whisper, running a hand down your sensitive spine. he created a soft tapping trail with his fingers, continuing to plummet his weighty dick in and out of your pasty walls. “can never stay away from my wife.”

soft whimpers spew past the cracks of your lips as he continues to drill into you, repeatedly thrashing his leaky mushroom tip against your precious g-spot that makes you shrill louder. your moans ricochet off the walls of the spacious office and he lightly tugs on your blouse. “kento, ken—fuck,” you’d suck your teeth, feeling each hooked curve of his dick hunt through every part of your cunt. the loud clangs of his belt sing each time his halfway pulled down slacks hits against your ass. he’s missed you, you can tell by his thrusts and the way he’s running a hand down your body. “fuck me, fuck me ‘ken. please.”

“shhh,” he leans up close to you, pressing a smooth palm over your mouth. your moans grow muffled as he continues to drive his fat cock into your cunt, hearing your heels clank and tap against the slick wooden floor. “not so loud, wifey,” he purrs, and you moan once his tip reaches there. it doesn’t take long before his flushed crownhead’s smothering your cervix wholly with rich french kisses, making your legs shake. nanami feels you leaning into his touch with your ass pressed all the way into him. “as much as i love your sweet sounds, you wouldn’t want anyone else to hear them, would you?”

your answer was muffled so you give him a slow nod. nanami chuckles, a tear of sweat racing down the left side of his forehead. “no, silly. we don’t want that,” and he brings a kiss toward the nape of your neck, nibbling on your tender skin. he’s fucking you over the desk, ignoring the groans and creaks of the old wooden desk. “no one should be able to hear how—” and he pauses, slightly lifting up your leg to get a more thorough deeper angle. “… sloppy you sound, no one but me, sweetheart.”

nanami’s still buried balls deep—his swollen full base remains to smack against your ass, creating an unforgettable perspiring sting amongst skin. every time he’s inside—he falls in love right over again, he can’t help it. “ ‘m gonna cum. you’re gonna wring me dry like you always did, my love,” he grunts, his cock repeatedly kissing at that poor bullseye of a target that’s buried inside the deep depths of your cunt. tap tap tap, he’s hitting that same spongey spot to make you whimper out those desperate cries of his name. cobwebs of saliva souse all over his palm as his hand remains cupped over your mouth. the loud fax machine continues to spit out mechanic whimpers of its own in the background while you’re getting drilled into the divorce papers the two of you were ‘supposed’ to sign.

but fuck that.

“inside,” you whine, your lips moving on its own the second he pries his hand away. your pussy gripped him tightly, aching him badly. you could feel yourself salivating at the thought of him filling you up again, dumping such a hefty load that his mess would spill right down the plush crevices of your thighs. “don’t miss ‘ken, finish inside.”

“anything for the pretty wife,” he’d rasp, bringing two hands toward your rickety waist. as you’re arched over the cornered table—the moment finally comes where he finishes with three deep thrusts that vigorously punctuate against your cunt. you whimper, and within seconds he’s spraying out thickly stringy amounts. velvety ribbons of cum that pour into you sprays inside your womb deeply, oozing out your folds. nanami’s lips glue against your skin and you can hear him faintly whining into your neck. “fuck,” he whispers, and it’s rare to hear him curse, but when he does, it always made you throb - like now. his cock’s still shoved inside and he’s still giving you his anticipated fill before he pulls out, smearing his tip over your drooling cunt.

“so pretty,” he weakly says, caressing your ass with a free hand. nanami’s eyes scan toward the desk with scattered divorce papers and he sheepishly rubs his neck. the blond turns you around to face him and he cups your chin—lifting you up and making you sit on the edge of the table. “but,” and he presses a kiss near the side of your lip, a few thick fingers feeling against the sloppy mess that spills out of your pussy. “you’d look even prettier with a ring around your finger again,” and he licks your neck, hearing your breath hitch as he whispers against your skin.

“i’ve missed you, mrs. nanami,” and he lowers his head down to plant a kiss against your throbbing drenched clit. “and i’ve missed you especially.”

☆ SATORU GOJO.

satoru doesn’t even have to fuck you. his fingers always did the job more than anything. his long fingers that were so fucking long for no reason. doesn’t care what time it is at night, he’d whine to you at how much he misses your pussy - his pussy. but you’d constantly tell yourself one more time, one more time wouldn’t hurt . . right?

wrong,

because those ‘one more times’ turned into dozens of times where you’d find yourself pathetically gushing on his fingers if not his cock and tongue. “relaaax, angel,” he’d purr against your neck, having you lie flat against his back. you’re a whimpering mess, biting the inside of your cheek as you feel his slender thin fingers expand and shove all through the swollen layout of your pussy. sloshes of wet sobs ring through the insides of you and you whine, realizing just how wet you were. “i know, i know. i’d fuckin’ throb if i was this soaked too.”

“s- satoru,” you’d moan, a hand of yours tightly gripping onto his wrist. a thumb of yours brushes against a vein that runs down his arm and he kisses near your neck. breathy hot pants ghost down near your skin and your thighs violently shake, feeling his fingertips prod against a particular spongey texture. there, he’s located your g-spot and you let off that cooing ‘ooh!’ as your head collapses back into his bare chest with a loud thud.

his fingers, you’d never be able to wrap your head around on how long they were. so long, they create an unforgettable stretch that makes tears of sweat drip down the sides of your forehead. they curl and entwine their ways inside, scissoring themselves inside your cunt before thrusting in and out of you at a slow degrading pace. “fuck, ‘toru ‘m gonna cum. ‘s gonna make me cum quick.”

“such a mess,” he huffs, prying your jittery legs open more with a single hand. you moan, feeling something prick behind your back and you knew that had to be his rock hard bulge that rubbed off against his sweats. it was hard to mistaken it, you felt the outline of it press against your bare ass.

he was so hard, and it was always because of you. as satoru’s got two fingers diving in and out of your slobbering pussy, he snickers against your ear. “i bet any other guy that touches this cunt doesn’t have fingers as long as mine, huh.”

there goes his fucking ego again. .

you tried to roll your eyes but instead it ends up making you create a lewd expression. his thin fingertips reach deep, and you’re slathering down both twin digits fully with such slippery sap.

“fuckk y- you,” you hiss out, grabbing his wrist to go faster. a throaty chortle leaves from his lips before his fingers start to twist inside of your sweet cunt even faster. “toru, satoru ngh!”

once his lengthy middle finger taps against there, your mind goes completely blank. you let off a squealing sob, your head thumping back against his chest once you gush right out yet again.

it was so abrupt. . there was barely any buildup, it just happened. you’re shivering as his fingers continue to crimp themselves inside of you, hearing your own pussy squelch out such carnal moans of its own. “fuck, fuck,” you whimper in broken cries, feeling your chest sink inward. the ivory-white sheets were now soaking up with a translucent colour as you release, biting his name within each syllable on your tongue. “satoru, satoruuu.”

“still the same ‘ole sloppy girl i remember,” he says in a raspy tone, feeling himself get hard just from your own arousal. you’re violently shaking, tasting every twinge of pleasure that surges through your veins as you squirt on his fingers. satoru’s fingers slide in and out and it’s so loud, it echoes through the four walls of the bedroom you both once shared and he simpers cockily. “can’t help but soak me right with you, yeah?” and before you could even get another word out, he slides out his fingers, hearing the cute ‘pop’ that exits out of your throbbing crying folds. “poor baby,” and he waves his fingers in his face as you pant against his chest. satoru hums, popping both fingers in his mouth for a taste he’s missed for the longest.

with a grunt, his free hand squeezes your cunt and you moan, the back of your head cutely hitting against his chest in defeat. “mhm. still taste the same too,” and as you’re still shaking on his lap, he gives the right temple of your cheek a kiss. “missed my messy baby.”

[simonbrain]

love the idea of reader just trying to fuck all her stress out with a random at the bar before returning back to her mundane life, and simon deciding he's going to keep her instead 🙂‍↕️

the prick doesn't budge when you try to kick him out; instead, he drags you back into bed and works his mouth to loosen you up again, and now you've forgotten why you were trying to haul his ass out of your home.

(you attempted to sound stern while telling him to get out of your house, but he merely chuckled, the sound so raspy and condescending that it stroked a heat within you that you thought was sated last night.

"this is our home. now get your arse back in bed, i'm fuckin' hungry.")

you had to really fist at his hair to pull him off of you, and that only turned him on if the deep groan rumbling out of him was anything to go by—you swear his tongue sunk deeper inside you. he only relented so he could fuck you dumb in the shower after, leaving you with trembling legs and feeling more dirty than clean (atta girl, don't you waste any of tha'—keep it all in).

you blink, and now suddenly you're seated as he spoon-feeds you a nice, hearty breakfast, huffing something like messy girl when toast crumbs get all over your face and the wooden table.

words can't express how flustered you are; you're too stunned to even continue telling the big man who's now feeding you scrambled eggs that he needs to leave. all you feel like you're capable of doing is opening your mouth to accept another spoonful, ignoring the ache you feel between your thighs when you catch his heavy stare and hear a low hum of approval.

then he's leaving (and it's not because of your nagging), muttering something about having to work those mutts to the bone today, all while you're trying to make sense of what's happening. he gives you a sloppy kiss to silence your questions and exasperation, one that makes you feel hot all over and almost melt into a puddle had it not been for the firm grip he had on your ass.

he licks his lips when he pulls back, eyes darting to where your shirt just barely covers where he'd rather be all day than having to go and train recruits. he stares for an uncomfortably long time and before you can speak up, face growing a little hot from the tension, he's turning around to finally leave.

before the door shuts, he says, "be a good girl, ay? see you tonight, birdie."

you're left with your thoughts and feelings of dread and anxiety. there definitely isn't any underlying interest or anything; the freak has fucked your brain out of your head, that's all. you're sure he didn't even mean it anyway. maybe. hopefully.

a drop of his come rolls down your thigh, and arousal shame burns through you. since when did you let one-night stands finish in you?

(your so-called one-night stand came home hungry and pissed, so worked up that he dragged you over to the nearest surface and played with you for a good hour. by the time you had half the mind to tell him about the dinner in the oven—your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at how much money he had sent you for groceries earlier, nevermind how he got ahold of your account details—he grunted and finally gave your poor pussy a break, scarred mug all slick and flushed.)

good luck when he takes you to meet his mates at the bar a week later, the same bar you brought him home from; the comments from them make you wish a hole in the ground would just swallow you right up.

"pretty thing ye caught, lt," johnny grins, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. he's a bit over the top, ogles your chest too hard, but overall he's... alright. you'd probably notice how perverted he really was if you actually looked at him longer than a few fleeting glances, but his stare is kind of unnerving.

kyle—perfection personified—hums in agreement, a warm smile on his face that puts you at ease. somehow you don't pick up on the ulterior motive behind his gaze running over your body, eyes roaming over your chest more discreetly than johnny but just as appreciative. "pretty indeed. you don't mind sharing, do you ghost?" kyle teases, pretty eyes glancing over at simon, who only huffs at that and shakes his head (much to your confusion).

who the fuck is ghost? you only know big guy and simon.

there's a deep chuckle and your focus flits over to the man seated in front of you, captain john price. if you thought simon was scary, john's a man who demands respect and attention just by being in his presence. "you chose the wrong dog to bring home," john hums, voice deep and gravelly and making you shamefully squeeze your thighs together.

"but that's alright, sweetheart. you have three others now, yeah?" the purr that comes out of his mouth is sinful, and when you nod and stammer out a yes, sir as if you were one of his soldiers and not the sweet girl that simon has brought to his captain, looking for approval of his newest toy, he only smiles.

simon's hand squeezes your thigh underneath the table, trailing upwards, and you're slowly understanding what it is that you've gotten yourself into.

[amaranthinespirit]

you go to get your clit pierced and simon riley's your piercer

when you first came into his shop, his ears perked up at the sound of the little bell above the door that signaled a new person had entered. when he glanced up from his current client, he wasn't sure what to expect.

maybe he was thinking a returning customer, or a person already adorned with piercings and tattoos ready to add onto their body mods, or someone who fit into the dark, low-light theme of the parlor.

but you. you were the opposite of what he was picturing.

he thought his eyes were deceiving him when he shot a quick glance to where you stood, door barely closed behind you. he had to do a double take because you just looked so out of place with your frilly white shorts and big doe eyes.

his eyes had skillfully scanned your appearance—your skin clear and void of any visible tattoos, no obvious piercings visible to his keen eyes. you even lacked piercings on your ears as he eyed the way you tucked your mousy hair behind them.

he studied you—the way you seemed to be nervous, anxious. by the way you looked, he assumed you wanted a basic piercing. something on the ears, maybe a nose piercing, or as far as a belly button piercing.

luckily for you, he had just finished up on the current client in his chair when you had arrived, just about finished with cleaning them up before charging them and sending them on their way.

you watched the way he approached the counter, peeling the latex from his massive hands as he slipped behind it. he tossed the gloves into the bin under the desk before his arms crossed against his chest—he didn't mean to be intimidating, it was just second-nature at this point.

it didn't help you were exactly eye level with his tatted forearms, the way his tight, black shirt stretched around his beefy biceps, clung to his chest and abdomen. his head tilted at you, narrowing his eyes in a watchful, curious gaze. he watched you rock on the balls of your feet under his eyes.

"what can'i do f' ya today, lov?" his voice was deep and gruff, a slight rasp in the way he spoke. in every way, he matched his environment.

when you muttered quietly about how you hoped he had time to do a piercing for you, a smug smile rose on his lips.

truthfully, no. he didn't have time for anyone else, but for you, he would. so he simply nodded, dropping his arms down to his sides, "'course, 've got some time. what'cha lookin' to get done?"

he was waiting for something along the lines of 'an ear piercing,' or 'a nose piercing please.' so when you shyly looked up at him with those big eyes of yours, telling him how you were looking to get a clit piercing, his eyes betrayed a look of surprise and shock.

he raised a brow, clearing his throat, "is that right?"

he watched your small nod and he hummed, nodding back to you as he thought it over in his head. his heart thumped in his chest, certainly not expecting a pretty thing like you to be asking him for such a piercing.

but who was he to say no?

so he nodded his head to follow him before he guided you to a room in the back for some privacy. he gestured for you to get situated on the little table in the small room while he grabbed a sterile needle and new gloves.

but you were nervous, so you stood awkwardly beside it as you watched him, his back turned to you as he finished the prep.

when he turned around, seeing your nervous stature, his gaze softened and posture relaxed as he waved you over with his fingers, guiding you to sit at the edge of the table as his gloved hands came to rest on your hips.

he pushed you onto your back with a gentle hand on your stomach, muttering to relax as he tugged down your little shorts around your plush thighs.

he hummed appreciatively at the damp spot on your panties, feeling his cock chub up at the sight, twitching in his grey sweatpants that already showed too much.

he leaned closer, glancing to the needle on his little table beside him before looking back between your legs. carefully his gloved fingers peeled aside your little lace panties, exhaling shakily at the slick that stuck to the fabric.

he carefully thumbed over the sensitive flesh, hearing the small gasps from your lips and the way your breath hitched at the contact, the way your hips unintentionally rolled closer to his hand.

he hummed again, nodding as he examined, "got some perfect anatomy for it, sweet'eart," he told you, glancing up at your face before pinching the sensitive bud, reaching over with his other hand to grab what you thought was his needle, "gonna look all nice and pretty when 'm done with ya."

you let out a strained noise in response, the sound shaky in your throat as you prepared for the needle to pierce your sensitive clit. you flinched at the feeling of something cool rubbing your glistening pussy, a huffed chuckle escaping his lips. the deep sound did nothing to sooth your nerves.

"relax, lovie," he cooed, tossing the little sanitizing cloth back on the table, "i'll give ya a countdown if yer feelin' nervous 'bout it, 'kay?"

he felt you relax under his hand as he reached for the needle. his fingers were steady as he hovered over your cunt, watching the goosebumps on your thighs at the feeling of his warmth breath against your skin and wet pussy.

a smirk etched on his face as he mumbled a countdown before plunging the needle into your sensitive flesh, expertly piercing it as he felt your body shudder under his hands. the involuntary moan that slipped past your lips was better music to his ears than the band that blasted over the speakers, and it didn't take an expert to know the piercing had given you an orgasm—that he had made you come so easily.

he shushed you, now adding the little jewelry as his thumb caressed your inner thigh, that trembled under his palm, to distract you as he grabbed another little sanitization cloth to clean up any blood spilt.

he let you sit like that, panties pulled to the side in consideration of the new sensitivity to your poor clit—though you weren't sure the cold air that blew against your sopping cunt would've been better or worse than having put your panties back on properly. he stood up and peeled the gloves from his hands.

he watched the way your chest heaved up and down, a smug smile still etched his features as he cleaned up the station, a hand on your hip as he caressed your skin softly. soon after, he pulled his hand away and disappeared out of the room, temporarily leaving you alone.

a frown made its way to your face as he left—how rude of him to leave you after he just made you orgasm from a piercing!

but that thought was quickly changed when he reemerged with a cold bottle of water in hand and little package of sweets—he wouldn't tell you that they were originally his so you wouldn't feel bad.

he set them by your head, his hand trailing across your hip before resting on your plush tummy—occasionally slipping further up under your shirt—as he kneaded the fat under his palms, muttering praises to you as you calmed down.

once you did, you slowly sat up and fixed up your panties and shorts, hissing at the sensitive feeling of the fabric rubbing against your flesh, causing his eyes to crease with a smile.

simon picked up the bottle of water again and opened it with ease, holding it out to you to take, which you did. you muttered a small 'thanks' and he just hummed in response as you gulped down nearly the whole bottle.

while you sat, recovered, and ate his sweets, he went over the aftercare for your piercing—he even offered to check up on it himself! how sweet of him, really!

but of course he was sweet with you, considering how much of a doll you were to pierce! and no way would he let you pay, as long as you let him take you out to dinner tonight?

[bunny-jpeg]

i have this little thought bouncing around in my head! single father simon. (a drabble)

*shrug*

simon ends up with his daughter winnie after her mother abandons her at his doorstep. he was the father, it was his turn to take care of her. simon could handle warfare, he could handle guns and sweat and metal. he could handle blood and bruises.

but a fussy newborn was a little too much for him.

enter you, it was your summer off from university and you were making extra money by babysitting for parents who couldn't afford weeks of posh summer camps. it was decent work and you were pretty good with them! so being concerned for your neighbour, simon's well being, you offered to watch winnie.

simon very well fell in love with you the moment you took the baby girl into you arms. winnie instantly got settled into your grasp, almost like you were her mother.

"what a lovely baby girl." you cooed, you looked at her with such affection already. you looked at simon and smiled, "she looks too cute to be yours." a playful jab.

you watched winnie while simon was at work. you didn't know what he did for work, but you tried not to ask too many questions. all you knew was that the checks didn't bounce when you cashed them.

but being with winnie for so many days had gossip go through the apartment building. you had a baby with simon? why were you in two separate apartments? where did the lovely newborn sleep? she SHOULD be sleeping with her mother (you).

when you tried to correct them, simon always said, "ah don't worry. we'll be havin' our own place soon enough!" his large hand snaked around your waist.

you just looked down at winnie who was sound asleep in her stroller. she couldn't care less who her mommy and daddy were. it wouldn't be hard to be the mother she'd otherwise be without, right?

that was the angle that simon too.

you'd make the most perfect mrs. riley. you were already taking care of winnie, but also him when he came home. you shouldn't be the nanny, you should be winnie's mama.

"she really loves you." simon remarked when you went with him to the pool.

you were in a one piece swim suit and you were making sure that the baby was out of the sun and had sunscreen on. you didn't want her to get sick or burned.

currently she was resting on your chest while you were in the shade. in your free hand you had a book in it and the other was on winnie's back. you said, "i don't know what you're talking about." as if you hadn't heard the comments from the little old ladies about how sweet you two looked.

"look like a real mama."

you looked to him and raised your eyebrows, "i thought i was the babysitter, mister riley."

simon placed a hand on your thigh then rubbed up and down, "nah."

it didn't take long for you and simon to get intimate. he asked you to stay because winnie had been having trouble sleeping. you two shared a glass of wine and then you found yourself face first into simon's bed. the scent of him filled your head as he fucked you into the comfortable mattress.

he loved the sound of your pussy as he fucked you without much abandon. the thickness on your hips would only grow once he made sure his next child was inside of you. you'd be such a good mama, unlike that previous bitch who left him.

maybe there was a good reason why she left him.

cum clung to the fuzz on your pussy lips and was a bitch to clean in the shower come morning.

he woke you up and said, "she needs her mama. she gettin' fussy, doll." then watched you stumble around to find clothes to wear while you checked on winnie as if the little girl was your own. his hand was wrapped around his cock. he wondered how many more times he could finish in you before you stumbled back to your apartment.

the answer was four.

it wouldn't be easy carrying for a sprouting little baby plus the baby boy you were currently pregnant with. you've put school off for a little while and moved in with simon, your due date was in the middle of the semester. now you were trying to figure out what food was good for a teething winnie while also trying to manage the riley son that was occupying your womb.

you were making dinner for your growing family with a cute little maternity dress of. simon was at the table with winnie. he knew that one day he'd have to tell her that you weren't her actual mama. but you were raising her and her little brother too.

"see there's mama." simon said in that grumbled voice of his, pointing in your direction.

you didn't imagine that you would've ended up as a stay-at-home mother to two children who were than a year apart. but as you felt the shift of your 'second' baby inside of you, you smiled.

you heard winnie make a little noise to get your attention. you checked on the pot of sauce on the stove before you turned away to check on your little girl.

[entitled-fangirl]

Nesting.

Cregan Stark x pregnant!reader

Summary: the reader has nesting habits while carrying their child. It's worrying Cregan to no end.

Masterlist

A/n: based on an incredible ask! He's so girl-dad-coded. Sorry, but I said the thing and I'm not taking it back. Girl dad.

.......................................................

Cregan stepped into their chamber and paused. "My love, what are you doing?"

His seven month pregnant wife looked over her shoulder. "Tidying."

She was currently standing on her small vanity bench, now pulled over to the bookshelf where she had been wiping at the dust on the highest shelf.

His hands came up, ready to catch her at a moment's notice as his body moved closer. "Why, sweet girl? Why not rest?"

She sighed to herself. "The birth is nearing. I need to be prepared."

"Love, dust on a six foot bookshelf is not something the babe will be checking." He placed a firm hand on her lower back. "Why don't you come down from there?"

Though she didn't want to, fighting him was utterly useless. "I don't know if I-"

He had already grabbed her, keeping her in a bridal carry as he moved to the bed. The slight groan from her made him pause. "Your back hurting you again?"

"Never stops," she muttered with a hand over her forehead, "It's like your child enjoys his mother's suffering."

"His? You think a boy?" 

"It has to be," she whined. "It needs to be. I don't think I can take this many more times." When his face fell, a light smirk came over hers. "I can only clean the shelves so many times."

He scoffed in amusement. "You little minx." Usually a teasing comment like that would result in the two under the covers, but during this stage, it only made him more cautious of every move.

He set her down softly on the bed, taking extra care to hold her lower back.

She let out another groan at the movement but the ache subsided for a moment. 

"Sit tight. I'll have someone fetch something to eat." And he stepped out of the room.

It was only a minute. A moment even. But still, when he returned, she was sitting in front of the fire, leaned back on her heels.

"What are you doing?" His voice echoes sharply.

Her hands flinched back as if she'd touched the fire itself, her body turning as much as possible to him. Her eyes were watery. "You're angry," she whispered.

The burly man forced himself to take a breath. "I'm not."

"No, you are."

"Fine. I am. But love, what is this?" He bent down to her level and grabbed her wrists, showcasing the ash across her palms.

"It was… it was so filthy across the front here. I've been staring at it for days. I just need to finish-"

"-With your bare hands? With these pretty little hands you intend to wipe ashes from a burning fireplace?"

"Just the front-"

"-And now I've got to wash all of this off you, don't I?" It sounded condescending, like scolding a child, but the light twinkle in his eyes proved that he enjoyed caring for her even when it exhausted his efforts.

"I was only trying to to help."

Her watery eyes were causing his heart to ache with a slight devastation. "I know, I know. But you're too close to the flames for my liking. Our little pup will melt."

A silent sob wracked through her at the mere thought of harm to their unborn child. Harm that was her fault. 

"Oh, sweet girl. I didn't- I- oh, gods," he tucked an arm around her. "None of that. Let's wash you up."

"But the ash-"

"-When you get into bed, I'll handle the ash. Alright?" He asked quietly with a hopeful look in his eyes.

Her eyes searched his for a way to truly know he meant what he was saying. To wake in the morning to the sight of ash still in place was unbearable at the moment. "Alright."

"Alright," he confirmed with a relieved smile. "Alright. Let's get you up, yes?"

She nodded as he he helped her up and sit on their sofa. He held her hands palm up and gave her a stern look. "Stay here." 

He moved to the small water basin by their beside and dipped a cloth in it, soaking it completely before moving back to her. 

He cradled each hand gently as he wiped at the ash on her hands, taking care to wipe as much as he could. "Ash is dangerous, my love. I want you to tell me next time you want it cleaned."

"I thought I could do it quickly," she explained.

"Just promise me you'll tell me what you want done rather than doing it yourself. I don't want you to overexert yourself."

She heaved a defeated sigh. "Alright."

He kissed her forehead. "Thank you. We'll wash you and get you to bed."

…

A week had passed in which Cregan had constantly ushered her to their bed, the nearest seat, and even having her sit in his large seat during petitions as he stood next to her.

But today he had yet to see her, and he began to miss her. 

The moment the petitions ended, he excused himself to his solar, where he knew she'd be cuddled up with one of her few books.

He was right. The door opened, and he grinned at the sight of his wife with his cloak wrapped around her, reading away at the book he was sure she'd read at least seven times now. "Enjoying yourself?"

Her head shot up. "I didn't expect to see you for another few hours."

"I finished early. You know I can't stay away for too long."

She set her book away as he entered the room. 

He kissed her softly and rubbed his thumb across her cheek. "What did you do with your day, pretty girl?"

She fidgeting with her hands. "I read quite a bit. That's all."

His brows twitched. "That's all? Just reading?" He knew better.

"Just that."

He ran his tongue across his front teeth. "If I go into our chambers, I won't find anything different than it was this morning?"

Her eyes widened. "Don't-"

"See? I know you too well." He leaned down and kissed her again. "You can tell me now, or I can go see for myself."

"No, stay here," she said in an urgent manner. "Stay with me. I've missed you," she tried to cover.

He pretended to give into her, letting her pull him down by the grip she had on his doublet. He kissed her cheek then pulled away quickly. "I'll be back."

"No, wait."

Cregan was already gone, moving swiftly to the bedroom and tossing the door open. Laid across their bed was an abundance of furs. Every cloak they owned but the ones they currently wore. Every fur blanket made for them was thrown on the bed. It all seemed messily done, but he knew better.

Not long after, the sound of his wife's footsteps came to his ears and he turned to meet her. "You've been quite busy."

"I'm only preparing, Cregan!" She whined. Her arms wrapped around his torso, her stomach keeping her from being fully against him. "It'll be any day now."

"You beautifully stubborn girl," he said with a shaking head in mock frustration. "You promised you'd tell me when you needed something."

"This is hardly a change. It was easy, I assure you."

"Love, I can't sleep like that. I burn like a furnace in the night anyway. This won't do any better."

"But the babe-"

He took her by the biceps, tugging her away from him. "The babe will be fine. The North is cold, but Winterfell is warm and comforting. Now please. Let me remove some of this from our bed."

Her eyes darted through the doorway to the bed and back up and him a few times in contemplation. "Fine."

"You sit over there," he pointed at their sofa. "And I'll do this."

She waddled over to the sofa, sitting down with a slight distain. 

Cregan began to throw cloaks and furs over his shoulders, inspecting each one in light amusement and annoyance. He threw looks to his wife occasionally when she would say, "Not that one." Or "Keep that one." He had managed to get most of them off the bed before he gave in. "You'll keep these three. Understand?"

She nodded. "And if I get cold?"

He sighed. "You have a warm husband. He won't let the chill touch you or the girl."

He took his leave, pausing with a smile when he caught her soft "girl?". But he left anyway, returning the furs where they belonged. 

…

Cregan was indeed right again, for she laid in bed in a small puddle of sweat. The heat was great in their shared bed, and her husband was right to correct her previous thought.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" the great lord muttered, his voice riddled with sleep. His eyes were closed peacefully, but even with no sight, he knew when his wife was troubled.

"Just-" Cregan's hand rubbed at her bump gently, urging her to continue. "A girl?"

He let out huff, pulling himself from sleep. "I know it's a girl."

"It's not," she urged. "It's not. It's a boy."

He peeked his eyes open. "I don't care what it is. But I know it's a girl."

She let out a disappointed sound and pushed his arm away, beginning to push herself up to sit.

"No. You need to sleep."

"I have to change things now. I'm not ready for a girl," she explained with a hurried tone. 

Before she could even move off the bed, Cregan had reached out and grabbed her, pulling her back to him and gently forcing her to lay back down. "There's nothing to change," he urged with his eyes locked on hers. "You've done everything right. The babe is loved and cared for, and the rest will fall into place. Yes?" When she didn't answer, he kissed her softly and tried again. "Yes?"

That was what she needed to hear. "Yes." She rubbed a hand over her shoulders in an attempt to soothe an ache. "Yes. You're right. He'll be fine."

"She'll be fine," he teased.

She sent an icy glare, making him close his mouth and lay back down.

"We'll just focus on today, alright? And today, you need sleep." When she had cuddled up to his side, he relaxed, knowing he had his entire world in his arms. "Just focus on today."

...................................................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname, @cherryheairt, @classicsimpforaaronwarner,

[foldingfittedsheets]

I am a little creature largely made up of anxieties. There have been times in my life when it was worse. It’s currently significantly better. This story takes place at a time when it was pretty bad.

Food was a prison for me. I moved out early with very little idea of how to feed or care for myself. Every meal was a question mark. For three years I had Brendan doing most of the cooking but when things ended between us I moved in with some other friends. I suddenly had no way to feed myself again.

I was working at the sex shop and living with all my coworkers; a premise that would make sitcom writers weep. In that house, at the age of 24, I learned how to fry an egg. It was the only thing I knew how to do but by god, I mastered egg frying. I was so proud. I could now have one stress free meal a day of an egg on toast.

The problem was my roommates. Living with three other people is already tough but messes pile up alarmingly fast, especially in the kitchen. No one sees the whole mess as their responsibility but the one person who’s responsibility it absolutely wasn’t was mine, as I only ever cooked eggs. Glaciers moved quicker than the dishes got done, mountains of greasy unwashed dish ware were fixtures across the counters.

My friends occasionally cooked for me and each time I happily cleaned all the resulting dishes. This seemed fair.

But on my own I only used three implements for my egg. When I finished with my spatula, pan, and plate, I carefully washed them and set them to dry. Every time I came back to the kitchen there was nothing clean.

Crusted on ketchup, dried food, and unsavory residues plagued everything I needed to touch. So I ended up doing all the dishes twice, once to use my three implements and again once I was done.

I started to realize I’d come home, see the filthy pile of dishes, then go to bed without eating because I didn’t have the energy to wash it all. So I finally addressed my roommates about it. Please, I beseeched them, can these three things always be clean. I cannot function like this, and eating is already hard for me.

The answer returned: no. My request was deemed unreasonable and a counteroffer was made to turn off the small space heater I ran in my room in exchange for them magnanimously cleaning up after themselves. I declined, as my bones ached with cold everywhere except my room since no one else wanted the heat on. The impasse continued. I went to be hungry.

I noodled on it. I schemed. I plotted. And on my day off I went to a thrift shop and acquired a nice little pan and spatula. I squirreled them away into my closet. The plan was just to wash and dry it after meals and keep it in my room.

This is not how it went down. On day one of my pan coming home one of my roommates popped into my room to chat, glanced into my three quarters shut closet and immediately said, “What is that?”

I sighed and admitted my plan. All three roommates roundly condemned my plan as extremely passive aggressive. I tried once again to explain that I wasn’t eating, but my secret pan was now a source of contention, a precious resource held back from the collective.

Their discontent reached a fever pitch and I finally declared, “Fine! I will put my pan in the kitchen. On one condition. If I ever find this pan dirty, ever, I will scrape whatever is left on it into your bedding. I swear to god, if I ever come home to it being dirty there will be a reckoning.”

Terms were agreed.

The first month or two went okay. On the third month I awoke to eat breakfast and found my precious pan sullied. I grabbed it and marched upstairs. Betty was named as the culprit. I strode into Betty’s room and stood over her sleeping form like the vengeful ghost of dishes past.

“If you don’t get up and clean this right now I’m going to dump it on your bed.”

Betty groggily regarded me. “Seriously?”

“I have never been more serious.”

“It’s one time, can’t you just clean it yourself?”

“No. You promised.”

With much huffing and grousing Betty arose from bed and tromped downstairs, hastily cleaning my pan while I watched. “Happy?” She demanded.

I was. I made my egg, cheerfully cleaning the pan afterward, leaving it to dry.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie seemed to have zero impulse control when he's not actively thinking about it. After Vecna Eddie moved in with Steve because he and Wayne didn't have a new place yet, plus, Wayne was living out of a motel. It was not a place for someone with wounds like his. Also, he was still waiting to be cleared of all charges. Steve was well enough to take care of Eddie. The metalhead was still in a lot of pain and on as many painkillers as he was allowed the first time that it happened. Steve was leaning over to fluff his pillows, and his lips were close to Eddie's face. It was all Steve’s fault, really. Eddie was thinking about how pretty his lips were when he decided to grab Steve by the back of the neck.

"What are - MMHH!"

Eddie brought his lips to his, and it was the sweetest kiss that Steve had ever experienced. It had left his lips feeling all tingly. Steve could easily pass it off on the fact that Eddie was high, and that was exactly what he did do. He never brought it up or told anyone about it. . .not even Robin. He really couldn't ignore it, though, when it happened a second time.

Eddie was feeling a lot better and could move around the house a lot more. Steve had finally been able to cook dinner for the both of them after living off other people's cooking and takeout while they both healed. They had finished eating when Eddie lumbered over to him and spun him around, cupping his face.

"That was the best home-cooked meal I've ever eaten - MUAH!" Eddie exclaimed, kissing him square on the mouth. "You go settle down. I'll handle the clean-up, big boy."

Steve had frozen a little. Surely, Eddie knew what he was doing? Since he hadn't brought it up, Steve decided not to bring it up either. . .except when it happened a third time. Eddie was completely healed, and he was able to be let out of the house since he was he officially cleared of all charges. He wanted to meet up with Corroded Coffin at Gareth's since they refused to come over to Steve's house despite the fact that Steve had told them they were welcome anytime. Even though he understood where they were coming from, it still stung that they refused to even try to get to know him. Anyways, Eddie was on his way out the door except for the fact that his keys were lying on the counter.

"Hey, did you forget something?" Steve asked.

"Oh, right," Eddie said, twirled around and kissed him while scooping up the keys. Then he was gone.

Okay, he really couldn't ignore it this time. Steve really needed to talk to someone about the kisses and about how much he liked them. He needed to know what that meant, and he knew exactly what kind of conversation this would turn out to be.

"Eddie keeps kissing me," Steve said as soon as Robin got in the car.

"I'm sorry, what?" Robin said, blinking.

"You know how Eddie's really affectionate," Steve replied. "Does it bother you when he kisses you?"

"Oh, you mean like kissing on the forehead and the cheek? No, I think it's sweet, actually," Robin said and rolled her eyes. "Are you feeling a little insecure in your masculinity because a man is getting a little affectionate with you?"

"What?! No, I don't mind getting affection from a man, Robin. You know I hug Argyle all the time," Steve said. "I'm just wondering why Eddie kisses me on the mouth and he doesn't do that with anyone else."

"Stop the car!" Robin screamed, and Steve pulled over the side, parking the car.

"Jesus, Robin!" Steve exclaimed.

"Eddie's been kissing you on the MOUTH?!" Robin asked.

"Yeah. He doesn't do that with you?" Steve asked.

"No, I think that's a treat only for you," Robin said.

"But why? We're both straight," Steve said. "I mean, I'm not trying to complain or anything, it's nice but why is he doing it?"

"You like it when he kisses you?" Robin asked.

"Yeah," Steve shrugged. "If I were into men, I'd be asking him on a date, but I'm not gay, Robin. . .well, maybe just for Eddie. Is it possible to be gay just for one person?"

"I mean, maybe, but I doubt that it's the case here," Robin said. "Usually, I would probably let you figure this out for yourself, but considering how long you kept it hidden that you like Nancy Drew, it might just take a while. . .do I have permission to rip off the band-aid?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess," Steve asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, how the hell were you so sure about Vickie and completely clueless about yourself?" Robin asked.

"Are you still on it that I totally called it about Vickie being a lesbian before you did?" Steve asked.

"She's not a lesbian, dingus," Robun said.

"Okay, I was pretty sure that you two were dating. Robin, she's clearly into you, so I'm pretty sure you have a shot," Steve said.

"Yeah, we are dating but she's not a lesbian," she said.

"I'm so confused," Steve said.

"In more ways than one," Robin said.

"Robin, we're going to be late for work," Steve said.

"Vickie is a bisexual," Robin said. "She likes more than one gender."

"Oh. . .oh, like David Bowie!" Steve exclaimed. "Right?!"

"Right," Robin said.

"Oh my god!" Steve said. "My Tom Cruise obsession suddenly makes sense - I didn't want to be him - "

"Not to mention, all those times you've stared openly at Eddie along with his posters of Eddie Van Halen and Kirt Hammel. . . "

"Kirk Hammett, Robin," Steve scoffed. "Eddie would rip you a new one for getting that one wrong."

"But you knew it because Eddie did," Robin said.

"I like him," Steve said with wide eyes.

"Yeah, buddy. Are you going to need a minute?" Robin said.

"Nah, I'm fine. I actually feel really good about it," Steve grinned.

"Not even a little freak out?" She asked.

"Nope!"

"Lucky bitch," Robin muttered.

"I'm sorry, the next time I have a realization about myself, I'll make sure to give you the freak out that you deserve," Steve said.

"That's all I'm asking," Robin said.

They spent the morning shift talking about Eddie and what he'd say to him once he got home. Steve debated on giving him flowers or not, or a stuff animal. He decided on a stuffed animal because that was more permanent, as Robin had pointed out. They were just about to take their break for lunch when Eddie strolled in.

"Hey," Steve said brightly. "I was just thinking about you."

"Yeah?" Eddie asked and leaned against the counter. "That's good to know."

Eddie leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips. This time, Steve responded to it, cupping Eddie's face as he deepened the kiss. He could feel Eddie smile against his lips. Steve heard Robin scrambling to lock the front door and close the newly installed blinds. Eddie wrapped his arms around him, nearly climbing over the counter to do it. Finally, Robin coughed loudly and they broke apart.

"Hi," Steve said breathlessly.

"Hi," Eddie said. "I got something for you."

He climbed over the counter and sat down in front of him. He pulled out a rock and handed it to Steve.

"It looks like a guitar pick," Steve said with a grin.

"I thought you could use it for good luck," Eddie said.

"That's very sweet, thank you," Steve said, blushing. "I'm going to keep it forever."

"So, your boyfriend did good?" Eddie asked.

"Boyfriend?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, I know we're taking things slow, but I was hoping that you'd consider me being your boyfriend," Eddie said.

"Yeah, uh, it's just - it might be the concussions, but I don't remember asking you out or you asking me out," Steve said.

"Oh, you definitely asked me out," Eddie said.

"Oh, God, Robin. The doctor said if I started having memory problems - " Steve said with wide eyes. "I'd definitely remember asking you out."

"Honey! I'm sure it's fine!" Eddie exclaimed. "Robin was there, she'll tell you!"

"I was NOT!" Robin yelled, her eyes going wide. "Or was I? Oh, god, what if I hit my head and I don't remember?! I'd remember my best friend asking out a man!"

"Okay, don't panic, Robin, we'll call Hopper - " Steve started to say.

"You really don't remember?!" Eddie shrieked.

"No!" Robin and Steve yelled.

"Seriously, Robin, you were there, and you turned into a giant duck which, by the way, is rude because you know about my fear of ducks!" Eddie yelled.

"Oh, Eddie, goddamnit, was this a dream?" Steve asked.

"You know what? Now that I'm thinking about it, I think it might have been a dream," Eddie said.

"Okay, those looks you've been giving me make a lot more sense," Robin said. "Have you been living in fear of me randomly turning into a duck, like I'm some sort of. . .wereduck?"

"I don't know, your name's Robin, and we've all been through crazy shit. . .anything is possible," Eddie said.

"Aww, and you've hugged me even though you're scared of ducks," Robin cooed.

"Well, it's my fear, my responsibility. It's not your fault," Eddie said and then looked at her. "But you're not, though, right?"

"No, Eddie," she said softly and then affectionately, "You dingus."

"This whole time. . .," Eddie trailed off. "We haven't actually been dating. You never asked me out."

Eddie started to scramble off of the counter when Steve grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Let's fix that. . .Eddie Munson, do you want to be my boyfriend?" Steve asked.

"Fuck yeah, I do," Eddie grinned.

He grabbed the back of Steve’s head and crashed their lips together. Eddie sighed and leaned his forehead against Steve’s.

"No one better fucking wake me up," Eddie breathed and Steve laughed.

"Oh God! I think my nose is turning into a bill - quack, quack!"

"Robin!"