#this was sweet just to send in

[sharpsuite]

Happy Birthday Chishiya (´｡• ω •｡`) ps sorry i late i wasn't on yesterday

↳ HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHISHIYA! Don't worry anon! There's never any obligation to. Plus with it being a Wednesday, i totally understand being busy or out of energy (bc lord knows im fighting for energy). I'm more than happy to take things for Chishiya's birthday through this weekend. It's when I plan to make something for him myself since I just havent had the energy after work

It's all rather UNEXPECTED how big of a day his birthday seems to be with others. As if it is a day truly with some sort of significance that makes it stand out from the rest. Maybe not peak compared to beloved holidays, but a noteworthy day nonetheless. It's most likely just a custom, except people here don't typically go out of their way to offer up words if they don't mean them in some way. So evidently it was at least worth the effort of calling attention and wishing him well for the day.

" Thanks. " Maybe he'll indulge in a treat or something for the day. It's good for people to treat themselves now and again. ( He says, despite the fact he never really indulges in such actions himself. )

[dangeroustaintedflawed]

sabrina carpenter for SKIMS, april 2024 ౨ৎ⋆˚｡♱⋆ ‎ ‎

[ruinix]

Quinn getting a huge baby fever after he saw you hold your little cousin (or whomever baby)

Hello, lovely…baby fever… yes, baby fever. Ummm, I fear I have…gone overboard again, so it took me a bit. I had to bring out the big guns (my AO3 thots with my fictional men). He almost turned…dark 🤨🙂‍↔️

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Masturbation, a dash of Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex (use protection, lovelies), Brief Choking, Use of ‘hubby’ (some doesn’t like it so...🙂‍↕️), Quinn being pathetic as he gets hit with an extreme baby fever

Count: 2913 words | Masterlist

You are trouble. So much trouble. Quinn had to lock himself in a bathroom stall as he stares at his phone, his fingers tapping the video over and over and over again. It feels like a loop. A loop of you and that little baby.

Who is that? Who? But the identity of the baby is the second thing in this mind. You’re the first thing.

Quinn can’t stop watching. Can’t stop hearing your little coos for the baby you got in your arms. Can’t stop seeing the way you brush your cheek against the top of the baby’s head. Can’t stop the squeeze in his chest as you smile at the camera, the light shining behind you so perfectly that you appeared to have a halo. Can’t stop feeling your happiness in this ten-second long video. It makes him happy. Too happy that he had to cover up the little one’s face because he’s…his pants tighten up. Fuck.

Before he could type his reply, you sends over a text that had him, leaning back against the door which creaked from his weight. His legs and hands shake. His soul shudders. It feels as though he’s not there. This must be a fucking dream.

Your text says, “When we have a baby, will they look as cute as this little duuuuuude?”

‘When. We. Have. A. Baby.’

When. Not if. When. Like you are stating the inevitable future. Like you are looking forward to it. Like you want him to give you children—or child, fuck, he’ll give you any number of children.

It’s just a simple thought, but it feels like a magnitude ten earthquake causing destruction. You destroyed him in the best possible way. Rattled him so much that he can barely function. He got practice for fuck’s sake. He can’t even tease your extended ‘dude’. He can’t. He can’t think straight.

All Quinn’s thoughts are questions.

‘You want a baby with me? When do you want have a baby? Do you want to start making one now? Next week? Next month? Next season? Next year?’

‘Are you sure you want a baby?’

‘How many babies do you want? One? Five?’

‘Do you want them a year a part? Two? Three?’

Shaking his head to clear it, his tongue feels dry, his heart beating and ramming against his chest. He could barely ask who’s the little dude, barely understand that dude is your friend’s baby, could barely read every paragraph you sent after about little dude. Of course, he still reads it, despite not being able to process them, because he needs to hear you—at least—as he tumbles down the rabbit hole.

More like plummets.

His mind is clogged with images of you. Your tummy barely showing to fully rounded and full of his baby. You eating for two. You being all clingy or irritable with him—he’ll hug or console you either way. You wearing maternity clothes. Most especially, you holding his baby.

Quinn’s done for. He fucking is.

When you send your “I love you”, Quinn’s hand is already wrapped around his cock, your name escaping his lips in a plea, a revelation descending and dawning upon him.

He needs to have a child with you.

That’s why—for weeks, six weeks to be exact—Quinn cannot stop imagining and wishing the babies he sees in the streets, in social media, in the arena during games to be yours and his.

He has…baby fever. He realized that a week in. It’s weird. Quinn doesn’t think about kids or babies. His plan was to be with you. Just you and him without a doubt. Then after some time, he’ll propose. Then you would marry. Then you two will talk about kids, because even if having kids was not yet his focus, he wants a family with you.

You’re his endgame. He’s sure of it, so he’s moving forward with you. Until you sent the video of little dude—Jeremy, if Quinn remembers correctly—with you. Until he literally can’t stop picturing you and babies. Until it’s the only thing in his fucking mind other than hockey and you. Babies. Cute little babies.

He’s so fucked, because it’s not just the wholesome need for little babies. No. It feels primal.

He gets fucking hard, totally bricked up, wanting nothing but to fuck you until you’re bred. So hard that he had to jerk off multiple times during the day. Bathroom stalls. A janitor closet. Even when he’s home, he has to jerk off, given that you’re not there. He tries not to, but his cock would ache as his thoughts worsen, so he fucking fails. Every. Time.

His fogged up brain will continuously echo: “Kids, now. Kids with you. Now. Now.”

Quinn thinks he’s losing his mind. He doesn’t know what to do, because the thoughts of little ones—with your eyes, your hair, your smile, your sweetness, your quirks, your gentleness, your everything—makes him yearn for it to be true. His heart aches for every day that goes without them. He needs a family with you. He needs little ones to spoil alongside you.

So for weeks, Quinn wants to breech the subject with you. He wish to present his new foolproof life plan—that will also be your plan, if you accept. His new plan consist of: lots of fucking to make a baby, him providing for you and your children and possibly grandchildren, him being present for every step of the way, him being a good father. But simply, babies. The plan is to have babies, but the words always stop at his throat.

Because…even if he wants babies, that doesn’t equate to what you want right now. Right? He can’t just do what he wants, can he? Like breed you and—

“Little dude,” you say in a singsong voice, “would look so cute with this, right?”

Quinn looks up and see you hold up a shark onesie. He can only stare, stare, and stare, because this has to be illegal. This, as in you holding up that onesie just a meter away from him. As in you looking proud of every baby clothing you bought. As in you being excited of buying things not for his baby. He hates it. The sudden disdain—to an innocent kid just because he’s not his—is making him all too riled up now. Why are you spoiling someone else’s baby? Fuck.

“Sure,” Quinn chokes out which he tries to mask with a cough.

He nods helplessly when you grin, a sparkle in your eyes, then you dash across the room to get your wrapping papers, tapes, and somehow, more paper bags. Just how many did you buy for that baby? It’s a fucking haul that makes Quinn irritable and also downright pathetic.

He should just say it. He wants a kid with you. He wants to be a father of your children. Easy words to say, but he still can’t say it. He’s such an idiot.

“I want to help,” he offers as you settle on the floor, scooting your legs under the coffee table, looking so cozy.

“Thank you, Quinn, but I got a wrapping system over here,” you giggle. Your arms are comically filled with stuff before you laid then out on the table. “You always crumple the wrapper, silly.”

Quinn does. He can wrap presents, but it’s a battle. Him against the paper. Usually, he wins but the gifts…they’re wrapped so messily. So different with your gift wrapping. While he’s nonchalant about it, you’re particular. He sees your focus for every fold. He has seen you get upset when you fold one piece wrong or if the ribbon is wonky. He loves that about you.

Still, you give him socks and onesies. Still, you let him messily wrap them. You even smile, looking so proud of him like he’s the best, looking utterly kind and patient. You place what he wrapped on your growing pile.

You’ll be a good mother. Quinn knows that. He’ll do his best to be a good father. He can do that. He can—

He jumps when you suddenly hop over his lap.

“Where’d you go?” You ask, pressing a kiss against his jaw. Quinn can only cling to your hips, savor your touch on his nape, the feel of your fingers running through his hair. “Come back, hubby.”

Hubby? Are you insane? Do you what that does to him? Who is he kidding? You fucking do. You always do. You’ll be the death of him.

“My Love,” he groans, a bit too whiny in his opinion, but he can’t help it. The effect you have on him.

“You like that?” you chuckle, breathing in his sharp exhales. “Hubby.”

Quinn can only growl in response. You’ve short-circuited him and you laugh at him. Cruel. His cruel Love. He hugs you tighter, grounding himself. This is real. You called him Hubby. Not Huggy. Hubby. Your hubby.

He buries his head into your neck, greedily taking in your scent. God. You smell so good, so addicting like a custom-made drug, just for him.

His cock throbs, wishing to be seated in your pussy, wishing to spill his cum in your womb until it takes.

“Do you want a baby?” He forces out, his voice coming out raspy and broken and desperate. He’s probably blushing, because he’s burning up. Even his fucking eyes stings. He’s going to cry and it’s fucking pathetic.

“Hmm,” you hum, hands rubbing over his chest, soothing him.

One hand runs up his jaw, coaxing him to meet your eyes. Your beautiful eyes track every detail on his face, taking everything like it’s your first time when you’ve already done it hundreds of times.

Then you softly kiss his cheeks, the mole on the right, his forehead, the edges of his eyebrows, his eyelids, his lips. A simple soft peck. One by one until he’s just putty underneath you. His heart pounds but not from fear, for his undeniable love for you. Just like that you settle him.

“Been thinking about that, handsome?” you ask.

“Yes,” he nearly stutters.

“Do you want to have a baby?” you ask, pressing another kiss on the tip of his nose.

Quinn shudders, eyebrows meeting, breaths picking up. “Yes,” he confesses like he’s about to confess guilty and be sentenced to death.

A grumbled ‘fuck’ escapes his lips when you scoot closer, sitting your clothed pussy right over his aching cock. You roll your hips once and Quinn almost comes. Shit. What are you doing to him?

You’re saying something, whispering the words on his lips, but Quinn couldn’t focus.

You’re so close. Oh, so close. Your breaths mix together, making him all so dizzy. He wants to kiss you again, but when he tries to close the smallest distance between you two, you move back. Why are you…

Then he realizes what you said.

“I’ve been wanting your baby for so long, Q. So long.”

You want his baby.

It feels like the last tether around his control snaps.

No longer is he chasing your lips and letting you pull away. No longer is he shaking like a goddamned leaf, choking on unsaid words, yearning and begging to the void. No longer because you’ve said it. You want his child.

He captures your lips, hand slipping through hair, firmly tugging. The way you moan against his lips makes his blood rush his cock. Your hands grasping at his shirt. Your hips grinding against his. Your desperation is a distinct reflection of his.

“Quinn,” you gasp, panting for air. Your pupils are blown. Cheeks flushed.

Quinn groans your name, lifting you to rest you on the couch, him still kneeling on the floor, your hips glued together. He grasps your collar, ruthlessly tugging down. Buttons pops out, fabric tearing. It’s his shirt anyway. He can just give you more.

He doesn’t let you complain, easily capturing your lips, as he continues his rush to remove every bit of your clothing. You try to help, but he won’t let it. He can’t or else he’ll lose it.

He needs this. You need this. Those thoughts keep bouncing in his head as he deepens the kiss. His hand finds your pussy, already dripping. Slipping a finger, your pussy sucks it in, quivering, clenching, leaking. God, you’re so wet. He doesn’t even need to prep you, because you’re already so turned on for him. Only for him. He hooks his finger against your special spot, making you scream.

You’re so ready, aren’t you? Ready to be fucked. Ready to be bred.

“It’s such a dangerous day, Quinny,” you whimper, nails digging into his arms.

You’ve already sent him over the edge, but hearing you—those new set of words—makes him spiral deeper into his haze.

He somehow gets rid of his shirt but only pushes his pants and boxers down, before he sinks every inch of his hard and leaking cock into your needy pussy. So easily. So smoothly. So eager and greedy.

“Fuck,” he growls, nipping your lips, blunt fingers digging into your thighs to keep them wide open for him. “You feel so good.”

So good. So perfect around his cock. He watches his cock slide out then back in, shivering at the feel of you, shuddering at your exhales, at how pleasure contorts your beautiful face.

“Quinn,” you say his name like it’s a prayer. “Breed me.”

He nearly comes from that. You’re such a minx. He leans back, fucking harder into you, bottoming out and hitting the spot that has you singing your screams, that has your eyes rolling up as your pussy convulses with tiny orgasms. Christ. He might not last long.

He just wants to fill you up, plug you with his cock so nothing spills. He needs to do that. If he doesn’t, you can’t get pregnant. You can’t have the child you want. The child he needs to take care of, to spoil, to love.

He  wraps a hand around your neck. Of all the necklaces he bought for you, it’s his favorite and nothing else, but the sight of the little heart pendant resting on your collar bone, just beneath his wrist, has him snapping his hips harder, rolling to heighten his and your pleasure. Fuck, so good.

“Harder, hubby,” you taunt as tears run down your cheeks. “Please, just a bit upward.”

He follows your plea, hitting the spot you wanted him to reach, getting the immediate reward of you arching your back, pussy clamping down around him as you come. Your cum dribble out with your arousal. The squelching noises and skin slapping is so alluring. Quinn needs more.

Quinn rides your orgasm, prolonging it until you are whimpering and gasping, “I’m coming. Quinn.”

He tightens his hand around your neck, feeling your pulse quicken, pussy tightening. You can only hold his arm, hips raising to meet every thrust that makes your tits bounce. Your eyes rolls as you come once again as he controls your air. What a sight.

He finally lets go of your neck, running his hand down your chest, teasing your taut nipples, making you whine, your tummy, until he reaches below your navel. He pushes down then you scream and come around him again.

Look at you surrendering to him.

“That’s three,” he groans out, slowing down his pace. He rises up, resting on knee on the edge of the couch, so he can fuck into you deeper. He hooks your quivering leg over his forearm, watching you bite your lips. “Got more for me, my Love?”

“Please,” you breathe. “Fill me with your cum, Q. Please. I need it.”

That’s his fuel. Your words. Your breaths. Your moans, mewls, whimpers, whispers of calling him your hubby. You, whining for more, more, and more, as he ruts and rolls his hips into your sopping wet pussy. The slight drool on the corner of your lips which he couldn’t fight the urge to lick. Your taste, your feel, your touch, all so divine.

He can’t get enough of you.

Soon, he’ll have little you’s whom he’ll love, whom he’ll play his games for, whom he’ll work hard for, whom he’ll be proud of. He’s already doing these for you, but that promised will ignite—has ignited—another flame in him.

He’ll have pieces of you and him in his arms.

He can’t wait.

He can’t.

He needs to make it happen.

He must.

He captures your lips, your tongue meeting his instantly. Fuck. He can feel your desperation. You need it too.

Quinn slows, drawing every thrust deeper, losing himself in you until he comes so hard that his sight blurs, so hard that he almost crushes you to the couch, so hard that he whimpers your name because you also come. Every spurt of his cum, a silent prayer, a plea for it to take.

But even if it doesn’t, Quinn has the whole day to plug you up with his cock, to fuck you again with your hips raise to lessen the cum that spill which is fucking inevitable. So, he’s there to give you more.

He has to make sure that you’re full of him. Full of his seed on this dangerous day. So dangerous. A perfect time to breed you, isn’t it?

God, he can’t wait until he’s fucking you with your belly is round with his baby.

[allyyyyyyy]

💋💋

[lil-lemon-snails]

decided to draw some of your guys' tags from my harlequin sun and moon post!!! These guys are so much fun and you're all so funny >w<

[notherpuppet]

Ight my inbox is getting some questions/comments that I really don’t feel like answering cuz I’m a bit spent, like I feel like I have explained the nature of the relationship in My Deer Nanny a lot lol. Maybe too much? 😝

But for any of the good faith readers of my AU comic (my fanfiction radioapple shipping alternate universe comic), please read the chapter “Morning After” a bit more closely! I think you will find your answers there! 🥰

[littlelioncub43]

Hi, sex addict bucky anon here, once again, I raise you, Bucky with a SO who is also a sex addict, like his SO is the kinda person who just causally masturbate’s, maybe because shes horny, maybe shes just bored, but either way she is more than willing to indulge bucky, hell she probably enables it. Mutual masturbation being a very big thing in there relationship

*Steve Harvey voice*:

YEEEEEEEESSSSSS!!!!

It's a regular thing. Somehow you two always end up with your hand between your legs playing with yourselves like animals in heat. Your favorite is when you're in bed or on the couch, both of you kneeling and facing each other; Bucky has his sweats pushed down low enough to have his cock out while he uses his flesh hand to stroke himself (he likes the feeling of skin on skin the most). His vibranium hand is gripping your hair while you both make out and moan into each other's mouths. You've got your panties pooling at your knees while your fingers glide in and out at a dizzying pace (which Bucky matches with his hand on his dick).

"Mmm! Yes! Yes! Faster, baby, faster!" He moans into your mouth, his hips starting to thrust so he can fuck his hand. You obey instinctively, your own hips grinding into your hand. "Mmmngggfffuuuuck let me touch you..." He begs in a gruff, breathy voice. The next thing you know, his metal fingers are pistoning in and out of your wet little pussy while he humps your hand at an equally rapid pace.

It feels so much better when you're the one touching him, so it doesn't take long for him to cum all over your hand and your thighs while you gush around his vibranium fingers. Thankfully, he's hard again within seconds so he just keeps fucking your hand until neither of you can take it anymore.

[cnth-rb]

Since my brain is kinda brainstorming I wanted to do this quickly

Yup, it's for you @le-panda-chocovore <3

(Original panel below the cut)

[kingkatsuki]

Men that stroke their cocks to your most innocent selfies.

[glitchgh0sty]

Pst. Hey. How's it feel to be the current face of the tag cause the art you made was so fire?

How the- wat the- who— ,,the,, whAt????

[vynnyal]

OK, fair warning to the few people I actually managed to convince to try the game??

Rain world does NOT play like hollow knight, and you'll get your butt kicked if you approach it like that.

It's really hard. Like, really hard. Instead of the game literally giving you abilities in the form of power-ups and damage buffs, the only abilities you gain is from what you learn and your own ingenuity. You're a rat from beginning to end. If you just beef your way through it, it's gonna suck and you're gonna be confused and frustrated all the time. But if you pay attention, take it slow, and learn how the ai works and how everything interacts with each other, you can consistently get through and dominate situations you thought were impossible to do so when you first began. Now get out there, kill some lizards, and bully some old computers!

[xafterthotx]

[3416]

Auston & Mitch meeting the Little Hustlers Lemonade Stand kids | 01.13.24

[erenthology]

Drabble but I had to make it pretty :3

Eren is pretty nosy. When he visited your dorm for the first time, he went through everything in your room, shamelessly. You were lying half naked waiting for him, meanwhile this dude was smelling your perfumes.

“‘Hmm, what’s this? ‘Who’s this in the picture with you?”

“His name is Dave, he was my prom date.” you tell him, growing irritated.

“He’s ugly.” He puts the photo facing down and joins you on bed but sits down instead of pushing your head into the mattress fucking you raw. “are your sheets linen? Is that what you prefer?”

You stare wordlessly, this was not how you expected the infamous collage star to to act when invited into your dorm. You usually meet at his place because he insists to always pick you up and have you spend the night at his. So when you asked him if he wanted to come to your place you instead, you could swear you saw his eyes sparkle.

You put your feet on each side of his shoulders which gets him to glance down in between your legs. “Wow, you want to fuck me so bad.” he tilts his head to the side as if to get a better look.

He’s on his knees, hovering over you as you’re lying down with your legs open “Keep talking like that and I’ll find somebody else to fuck me.”

He raises an eyebrow, “keep saying stuff like that and you’re gonna get punished.”

“By who?” you clench your thighs.

His eyes track the dirty motion of your hips and licks his lips as if to taste you. “only me. why, is there someone else on your mind?”

“I mean, dave did hit me up recently. he’s grown quite attractive.” you like being petty.

Not even a crack of a smile. “You know, when you say stuff like that, it makes me want to fuck you silly.” he delicately strokes your cheek.

Huffing out a breath, you’re about to tell him to go ahead but get interrupted by him tracing your lips with his fingers. “Your lips turn down at the edge,” he smiles, “you have the perfect pout.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, not really used to being treated like this. Eren keeps surprising you and yet you find ways to ignore it. But you have a feeling that he’s fully aware of your antics and is being patient with you.

“So?” you dart out your tongue around his finger. “want to see it wrapped around something other than your finger?”

He adjusts his boner and pushes your legs down around his waist. Gazing into your eyes, he calmly speaks. “you have no idea how much I crave you. every second of every day.”

Swallowing hard, you feel the tension in the room about to snap. He lowers his body and pushes your legs up, folding you in half with his body weight.

Face to face, Eren looks at your searchingly. He’s waiting for you to kiss him, he wants you to show him you want him. So your hands reach for his face, and you brush your lips against his. He sighs a breath of relief, as if he’s been holding it it this whole time, and kisses you back.

Feeling content, he draws back and watches as you’re unable to open your eyes for a few moments afterwards. Eren smiles and releases your legs, then viciously hugs you and starts rocking you back and forth.

“You’re so cute.” he squishes you.

“stop, I’ll cut your teddy bear the next time I’m over Eren I swear.” you threathen harmlessly. He gasps, “first of all, Eldy is not a teddybear he’s my son.” he jokes back. Laughing at his antics, you realize you’ve gotten further involved with him than you might’ve realized.

The inside jokes, he kissing and unnecessary cuddling. As if noticing you’re drifting away, he puts you on his lap and grabs your laptop. “Let’s watch a something.” he strokes your thighs.

“Dibs” you both say on the same time. Turning to face him, you yell “supernatural” again, at the same time.

He stares intensely, “oh baby, you were so made for me.” he draws out enthusiastically. “Yeah yeah, just put it on.” you turn your face back to hide your blush.

Your bodies are tangled together, he holds you as if you complete him. Legs in between yours, arm around your torso, you’re surrounded by him. “Eren, did something happen?”

You can tell this makes him happy. “you care about me.” he smiles cheekily and kisses your cheek. So that’s the reasons he just wants to hold you.

“So, what’s wrong?” you forcefully let out. It feels a bit uncomfortable but you can tell he’s not uncomfortable at all. “Don’t worry about it, just let me hold you.”

“Fine.” you don’t know why you make it sound like you’re irritated, you’re not. But Eren doesn’t say anything, you have a feeling he’s learning how you work and actually understands you. Either way, you let him hold you.

[feng-shui71]

req: somehow wesker's shoulder got hurt during the trial (a survivor found something sharp and slashed his trenchcoat, perhaps?) so jordan put a coban bandage around it and now every time she sees him the bandage is Still there. he doesn't need it. he never needed it, really. but he has it. he keeps it. he will keep it until it breaks.

he hasn't even fixed the trenchcoat. it keeps him sane, like a gift, like her humanity is infused through him even if he lacks any of his own these days

He’s not a sentimental man by any means, but for Jordan he is!

[sleepyorchidmonster]

So, with Chapter 7 being (another) event of Cataclysmic proportions on a global scale, I can't help but wonder about the direct fallout to the whole thing, be it the world's opinion on Malleus and the fae, how S.T.Y.X. will handle everything....

...and whether we may end up meeting Mrs. Rosehearts by the end of the book or not.

Since she is a famous magical healer/doctor, and her son is currently on Sage's Island, it'd make sense for her to work alongside other paramedics when help finally breaches the barrier (especially considering how she doesn't take no for an answer).

The main problem is that, after finally dealing with an overblot of such magnitude, the last thing anyone needs is another potentially triggering situation (and we saw what happened with poor Trey in Riddle's dream).

So here are my ideas:

1- Mrs. Rosehearts makes an appearance, but manages to keep things professional and just hugs her son before going her merry way (she's wondering why so many students are glaring at her, though);

2- Mrs. Rosehearts attempted to join the paramedics, but S.T.Y.X. vetoed the idea and were quite adamant about it;

3- Mrs. Rosehearts makes an appearance, but the other members of the cast hide Riddle from her (he's so tiny he can just stay behind Adeuce and be done with it) while Chen'ya kidnaps Trey and takes him to Heartslabyul to bake the stress away;

4- Mrs. Rosehearts makes an appearance, causing Adeuce to panic and throw Riddle out of the window (the Tweels had to fish him out of the lake);

5- A combination of options 3 and 4: Adeuce throws Riddle out of the window, but Cater manages to save him. Now Riddle is hiding behind Leona or Idia while Cater scolds the freshmen;

6- Idia undergoes a character development arc and stands up against a Karen (he just fought Malleus Freaking Draconia, he's not afraid of her).