#underwire free bras

[uravitypng]

ghost kurapika x (chubby) reader

KINKTOBER: voyeurism + multiple orgasms

word count: 2.1k words / mdni ! 18 i got really carried away while writing this so that's why it's this long, it was meant to be under 1k asdfghksg. kurapika has some yandere tendencies in this xoxo

when kurapika was still alive he was driven by revenge, his afterlife is fuelled by you. kurapika resents the living and whenever someone new enters his home with cardboard boxes piled high in their arms and a key in the door he wants them to leave. when you came through the door tripping over your own feet and reading out loud a to-do list of things you need to buy he thought exactly the same as all those other times.

then it changed. it wasn't a sudden change, it was gradual. people normally don't want to stay long but for you it's been two years. normally his 'visitors' leave after a while of his hauntings but you've stuck around and now he doesn't want you to go.

in fact now he doesn't even want you to leave the house, the outside world is dangerous and he knows that more than most. you're too delicate and fragile and he can't keep you safe when you leave.

you really like where you live although you feel at times you're being watched... it's not a particularly bad feeling though...

that suspicion you have will be confirmed soon.

kurapika wants to look after you, he watches you while you sleep to make sure you don't get nightmares and watches the door for intruders. he cares for you like he does his clan. everything is platonic, he's never thought of you that way, you're like family.

whenever you'd get changed he'd look away or leave the room but one day he overheard you on the phone complaining about how you slipped in the shower and fell down, luckily you only fell and didn't hit your head and get concussion. kurapika hears this and worries, the next day he's following you into the bathroom to make sure you're safe the entire time.

you lift off your top and throw it into the laundry basket. he was supposed to look away until you get in the shower and the steam surrounded your body but he didn't look away, he didn't even turn after seeing what you were doing. he didn't take his eyes off you as your soft stomach and full breasts get exposed, not wearing a bra because why would you? you're at home. he didn't take his eyes off you when you lowered your leggings down and your thighs come into view. he never looked away from your body as you climbed in the shower and he moved closer to you to 'keep a closer watch on you.' really moving closer made it easier to see you through the steam. he never looked away as water dripped down your skin and you stepped out the shower wrapping a fluffy towel around you.

this started his constant watching, now he's seen you he couldn't look away. the smell of passionfruit fills the bathroom as he takes in your soapy plump body in the shower, your hands running along your body covered in body-wash and hair wet from the shampoo. kurapika presses the palm of his hand over his trousers and groans your name, imagining you stroking him and imagines him helping you in the shower, taking over the task of getting you clean.

after you come home, obviously tired, from a long day, you'll get changed straight away into pyjamas and as you undo your bra with your heavy breasts now free and you moan in pleasure and relief, no more underwire along your body and knowing that you don't have to leave again for the day. kurapika nearly chocks on his own spit as you moan in relief.

when you bend over or stand on your tipy-toes all he can think about is taking you right then and there. as you bend over the sofa to reach the tv remote your top slivers up and everything is on display, it would be so easy to touch you, 'if only ghosts could.' he throws his head back as he comes imagining fucking you right there.

kurapika watches you as you put on a pretty dress and his eyes turn red with worry, 'where are you going?' 'it's late outside.' 'you're too pretty to be alone.'

as you leave kurapika waits by the door, his fist are clenched and he wants you to come home, it's dark out. his mind is racing with hundreds of thoughts, wishing that you'd come home. 'what if he lost you? what if you never came back? he can't lose anyone else.'

hours later he watches you stumble in through the door and he can smell alcohol on your breath. 'is this where you've been, out drinking? what if you got hurt?'

you kick off your shoes and fling yourself in your bed, your arm covering your face and wriggling off your dress. kurapika frowns. his frown turns into pink cheeks as you move your hand under your underwear and whine as you make contact with your clit. kurapika sits on the bed next to you and watches as your face scrunch up, his hand itches to touch you.

he's been content with watching but you've never done this before, or at least he's never seen you do it and he wants to do it for you. he didn't think he'll ever be able to touch you or talk to you but as he puts his hand on your hip you whelp. he didn't expect you to feel anything but you clearly did.

you know you felt something, a cold hand against you. you may have been out drinking tonight but you're only tipsy, and getting more sober, you definitely felt something. you freeze. "is-is anyone there?" your friends would call you crazy talking to yourself but you always feel like someone's watching you, you never feel alone, you always feel like someone's sitting next to you. "i sound ridiculous," you mumble but your mumble is cut short when your breath hitches as you feel that cold sensation again, this time up and down your hip, almost in a soothing matter.

'if i can touch her what else can i do? what if i really concentrate?' carefully swinging his legs over you and resting above you he kisses the side of your neck. you shiver not expecting it and buck your hips up, feeling someone on top of you. you should be alarmed but you're not. somewhere in the back of your head you're always had a suspicion that you weren't alone but you buried the thought down.

kurapika smirks as you move under him and shiver, liking the effect he has on you. he needs you. he wants you to see him. you gasp and your eyes are wide. a man is above you. a very pretty man, blonde hair and cloudy grey eyes that are looking down at you fondly, his gaze makes your cheeks heat up. a singular drop earring hanging down his face.

he knows you can see him as you gasp and make eye contact. "h-hello." you say quietly and he smiles,

"hello my love." you're bashful but feel safe all at once. you've never felt safer in anyone's company. "i'm so glad you can finally see me darling." before you can say anything else kurapika is kissing your neck again making you shiver and running his hands along your body. he fiddles with the hem of your underwear, "can i?"

immediately you hum in confirmation, not caring if you sound needy and you do, making kurapika happy with the knowledge that you need him. you'll stay here with him.

you lift your hips up to help him and he pulls them down. kurapika kisses your neck one last time before moving between your pillowy thighs, opening them wider with his hand and making his way down your body with his lips, kissing your chest and rib, your tummy and your hip, all the way down to your pussy where he opens up your pussy lips with his hand making you moan loudly and he smirks. the temperature of his hands on you mixed with the air that's now blowing on you makes your senses heightened. with his hands on you he flicks your clit gently with his tongue making you breathe heavily, wrapping his lips around your bud and sucking making your laboured breathing turn into loud moans. it doesn't take long for you to come but kurapika doesn't give you a break, touching you again, this time pushing two fingers inside of you and making you scream.

"feel good darling?" you nod your head rapidly as he continuously hits your gspot with his long fingers, his thumb stays on your clit and rubs it. you come again.

by this point his cock is so hard that it's hurting but he doesn't want to stop not yet. he makes you come one more time on his fingers while you screech and lifts himself up so he's looking at you. "i'm going to fuck you now love." he kisses your temple, sweaty after so many orgasms. at some point he must of taken off his trousers but you didn't see. you don't know where they went either so who's to question ghost logic and rules.

kurapika takes your hand in his and lays them next to your head before slowly pushing into you. you gasp at the sheer size of him even after so many orgasms and foreplay. when he is in you fully he waits and pauses for you to feel comfortable, and leans close to your ear. "i'll make you feel so good my darling but you've got to say my name okay."

"okay, pretty boy." his cheeks are pink as you call him pretty boy. when he was still alive people would ask him if he was a girl, and say he looked feminine he used to hate that and he thought he would hate someone calling him pretty but when you said it he didn't hate it. not at all.

"kurapika," he tells you his name, smiling and you repeat it. he liked pretty boy but nothing beats you saying his name, it sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth. he's never loved anyone saying his name as much since his klan was murdered. you go to tell him your name but he interrupts you, "i know who you are darling. is it okay if i move now?"

"yes. please kurapika, please move," you reply breathlessly and he listens to what you want as he starts moving, rocking his hips gently and squeezing your hands.

"i'm so thankful i can touch you," he kisses you shoulder and his thrusts stay the same. he seems composed but he wants you badly, he'll take it slow though and make sure you get treated how you should be treated- like a queen.

he's not the most experienced in the world, he never cared much about sex, it wasn't a priority when he was alive but he will make you feel good, he'll make sure of it. you feel so wet and warm that it's making him lightheaded but he grounds himself by squeezing your hands.

you don't stop moaning and whimpering his name all night as he makes you come over and over again as you plead for a break but at this point he doesn't let up, holding your plush thighs in one of his hands and keeping it over his shoulder. "can't take no more! please 'pika can't come again."

"yes you can darling, you can give me another one." and you do. another one and another one and another one.

just as he's about to come a image flashes through his head of you swollen with his baby, a baby with beautiful red eyes, the kurta clan has a chance with you.

ropes of white shoot into you as he comes and you're shocked at how warm it is because the rest of him is cold. he groans and his grip on you tightens as he orgasms. kurapika stays inside you for a minute before slowly pulling out not wanting you to suddenly feel empty. if it's also plugging up you full of his cum then that's just a byproduct...

when he pulls out he gives you a chaste kiss where you go to chase it reaching up higher to kiss him, he lets you kiss him and mumbles against your lips, "i love you."

[xoluvx]

reflections; b.eilish

smut

“Beg.” You snarled digging your hand in her hair pulling on her tousled strands, back flush against your body. Lips parted. Lids fluttering. Chest rising and falling. Breasts spilling out of her slutty lacy bra.

“Please,” she urged weakly closing her eyes and swallowing. You pulled on her hair, lips pressing on her cheek.

“I think you can do better than that,” you sneered before hooking your fingers in the fabric of her bra. She whined and bucked her hips. But your grip remained firm on her hair, holding her against your chest. Ass molding into your lap.

“Pl-please. I’ll do anything.” Her voice desperate, eyes shut. Your fingertips were fire on her flesh. You pulled on the fabric breaking her breasts free. They sat so plump pushed up by the underwire and bunched up fabric.

“Anything?” You whispered in her ear sending shivers down her spine, thighs clenching.

“Mmhm,” she moaned when your hand glided down her thigh.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" your voice sultry as your lips wrapped around her neck. The sound of your voice made her knees weak and the sensation of your tongue on her skin was sending her into orbit. She swayed her hips instinctively, grinding on your lap.

"Words," you instructed wrapping your arm firmly around her torso holding her in place. Your other hand held her jaw, lips pressed on her cheek. She shivered when she felt your breath on her face. Her nipples hardening at the gesture.

"Yes," her voice shaky when she felt your hand squeeze her thigh.

"Good," you purred licking the shell of her ear.

"Now get down on your knees and wait for me," you whispered the instructions as her eyelids fluttered.

When you returned, she was on her knees, hands in her lap.

Your thumb ran along the corner of her mouth, lips so plump and inviting. When you tugged at her bottom lip, she parted her lips, eyes watching your every move. She watched the way you bit your own bottom lip focusing on her lips parted ones. The way her tongue peeked out of her mouth to feel your thumb before you pressed it down on her taste buds. The way her lips wrapped around your finger before releasing it with a pop.

When you held the fake cock in your hand, she averted her gaze to look down at what she was going up against. Her mouth hung open as her lids fluttered, staring longingly in both anticipation and uncertainty.

"Can you handle it?" you asked teasingly as she blinked and looked up at you before nodding her head.

"Words," you reminded her tilting your head with a softness on your face that was driving her crazy. It made her physically clench her thighs and inhale sharply. Did you want to read her a bedtime story or fuck the shit out of her?

"Yes. Yes, I can handle it," she almost whined wringing her hands in her lap as she looked at the cock through hooded lids.

"Tongue," you spoke inching closer watching the way she shyly stuck her tongue out. Slapping the fake cock on her tongue, she moaned and planted her hands on the floor both lifting and supporting her body as your hand held the back of her head. Your hips moved calmly encouraging her to wrap her lips around the cock.

She mirrored your actions, taking in as much as she could. You groaned at the sight. Her perfectly plump lips wrapping around the cock so gloriously as her eyes closed and a guttural moan left her body.

"Look at me," you snarled increasing your pace. Billie whimpered and moaned, the sounds muffled by the cock in her mouth. When she opened her eyes, they were glossed over. Tears forming at the corner as you fucked her mouth. Her head bobbing, hands gripping her thighs leaving marks on her skin.

"I wish you could see yourself right now," you cooed caressing her cheek with one hand as her brows furrowed trying to keep up. You still held your grip on her hair as you thrusted. Her choked moans were heavenly coupled with the smeared mascara under her eyes. Her lashes clumped together as your strokes grew long. There was something about watching her crumble under your fingertips knowing it was all you; your doing.

When you pulled the cock out of her mouth she inhaled. Her chest rising and falling rapidly, saliva stringing on the cock while dripping on her chin as she gasped for air. Hands opening and closing around her thighs.

"Thank you," she breathed looking at you.

"Don't thank me yet," you whispered wiping her mouth with your index finger before taking her arm. She stood weakly, legs wobbling as you led her to the other side of the room.

"Look at you," your voice vibrating through her body, still sensitive from what'd just happened a few minutes ago. You held her jaw, cupping her face, pursing her lips. Her makeup stained on her face.

"So beautiful," you whispered bringing your hands down to her shoulders. Your fingers hooked on the straps of her bra bringing them down her arms so painfully slow it physically ached. Then your hands worked on her back unhooking the pesky fabric finally freeing her of the restraint.

"So perfect," you breathed cupping her breasts causing her to gasp and bite her lip watching the way you gripped her skin in the mirror. The way her breasts fit perfectly in the palm of your hands, spilling from your fingers when you squeezed and kneaded. Fingers pinching her nipples softly. Lips on her shoulder leaving wet marks on her salty skin.

"Wait here," you commanded kissing the back of her head before disappearing from the reflection. She waited quietly, hoping to catch a glimpse of your body in the mirror.

A chair. You were pulling the fucking chair that permanently lived on the other side of the room. It was now right in front of the mirror. Billie didn't dare turn around. She watched your every move in the reflection. She watched you sit. She watched you open your legs, the dildo resting between your legs. She watched you pat your thighs before instructing her to sit on it.

When she started to turn, you stopped her quickly.

"No," your fingers made a twirling motion instructing her to turn back around. Billie turned without a word, she stood between your legs. Your hands spread across the front of her thighs and she followed the trail of your fingertips leaving burn marks on her skin. It led from her thighs to her hips to right under her breasts and back to your hips where your fingers dug into her hip bones directing her to your cock.

"Right there," you whispered almost to yourself as she slightly parted her legs sliding onto the dildo. Hands still gripping her hips, you planted her on the dildo and she cried out blissfully. Swallowing it whole, head hung as she adjusted herself to its length.

She held her hands over yours trying to gather herself, but you started moving your hips and she moaned biting her lip.

"I want you to look at yourself," you ordered fisting the back of her head, pulling on her hair, forcing her to look in the mirror. Her back arched, pupils dilated, as she gasped in ecstasy at this new angle.

She started moving. Swaying slowly at first still holding on to your hand and her thigh. She noticed the way her breasts moved. The way your lips parted each time she rolled her hips. The way you bit your lip when she moved faster and faster until she was practically bouncing on your fake dick.

Eventually she held on to the bottom of the chair, fingernails gripping the fabric as she hung her head low unable to hold herself together. She was searching for her high and she was quickly approaching it.

But before she could grow comfortable in this new position, you quickly pulled her head back holding your grip on her hair. She watched through hooded lids as she fucked herself on your cock. Whimpering and crying each time she felt it hit her g spot.

She was melting into your body, back flushed on your chest as she swayed desperately. Her full breasts bouncing up and down as she reach her arm around the back of your head supporting herself. You hooked your arms under hers, holding her upper body as she moved.

Her moans bounced off the wall as she watched herself fall apart on your lap.

"Such a good girl," you purred burying your face in her neck. Her damp hair getting caught on your lips as you found her sticky skin. Your lips cloaked her neck with kisses, sucking gently then soothing the area and repeating the action over and over until she was shaking and whimpering biting down on her lower lip.

"I'm-" her voice cracked.

"I'm gonna cum-" she whined grinding hard on your hips.

"Not without my permission," you whispered softly and that only made her lose her shit even more. How was it possible that you were making her feel in charge, but you were completely in control? You had her wrapped around your finger and cock.

"Please," she begged slowing her movements. She was hanging on by a thread. You felt her body shake. You held an arm around her abdomen feeling the way it contracted with her impending orgasm.

"Beg some more and maybe I'll let you cum," you planted your lips on her shoulder as she whined loudly the sounds almost coming out as sobs.

"Please," her voice broken.

"Please, please,pl-plea-" she choked feeling your grip grow tighter. She opened her eyes briefly only to catch you staring at her spent face. At her red bottom lip, almost bruised. At her teary eyes.

She watched you nod before she heard you say 'cum' and with that simple gesture she sobbed unraveling on the fake cock. Legs shaking, pussy throbbing, chest heaving, moans so sweet they were music to your ears.

Falling limply on your body, you held her tightly. Her head fell back on your shoulder, nipples hard, chills adorning her body as her toes curled. The powerful wave still washing over her body like a tsunami.

You brushed her hair away from her face, but her damp strands clung to her sweaty forehead. You kissed her shoulder, her jaw, her cheek, the side of her head as she rested on your body trying to regulate her breathing.

"Are you okay, baby?" you asked, your voice tender. She nodded and mumbled an incomprehensible reply, but when you moved she winced and spoke clearly.

"Can we just stay like this a little longer?" she muttered still sensitive to movement. You nodded kissing her head, hands running over her thighs tracing circles and hearts on her skin.

She sighed contently, cock still buried deep; the mirror reflecting the tender moment. Bodies molding into one. Arms wrapped around her body. Head leaning on yours. Eyes closed basking in the moment of that sudden sugar rush crash.

[tj-crochets]

Follow up question! Well, follow up in that I keep forgetting to ask, it's otherwise completely unrelated: 3. do y'all have any recommendations for where to buy bras online? Not sports bras and not pullover ones, my ribs are too messed up to reliably be able to not get stuck in bras without clasps lol

Hey y'all! Two questions, for once not that weird lol 1. do you have a recommendation for a crocheted hexipuff blanket pattern? (if I am remembering that those are called correctly) 2. I got some small pieces of the like thermal insulated batting in a box of scraps and it makes a pleasant crinkly noise when moved. Do y'all know if it's machine washable (when inside a finished object) and do you think it would be good to put inside like stuffed animal ears as a fidget toy kind of thing?

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Flip-Flopped AU

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

1k. Series Masterlist

My entry in the Flip-Flopped Summer Writing Challenge by @munson-blurbs and @corroded-hellfire in which a plot point happens differently in your story and alters the trajectory.

In this AU, Eddie and Teach got lost in the heat of the moment in Chapter 17 and both decided not to use a condom.

CW: pregnancy, big feelings, protective!eddie

If this is not your thing, feel free to scroll on past! This does not affect the main story whatsoever.

The days were getting longer. 

The changing of the clocks had sunlight stretching on past dinner time. Birds were making nests outside your bedroom window, singing as early as you woke. But they had been feeling longer even before now. Back when frost still clung to the windows of your classroom, you would find yourself slumped against your desk before lunch period—bleary-eyed with a tiredness that seeped into your bones, made you want to sleep forever. They were long because you were exhausted, and not just from work.

There were changes in your body. The early nausea had ebbed for you to discover your appetite again. You couldn’t wear underwire bras anymore, not that any of yours fit anyway. You could smell the ink from the Xerox machine over by the coffee table clear across the room; a superpower you never wished you had. When it finally stopped whirring, you got up from the table and sought to alleviate the pain in your lower back with a stretch. It did little good. With a tired sigh, you plodded over to the Xerox machine, grabbing the warm stack of copies and securing them with a binder clip before placing them atop three large textbooks. You hoisted the stack, wincing at the soreness in your breasts but thankful for the shield it provided. You’d noticed another change this morning that had you feeling anxious others would as well.

Like clockwork, Eddie was waiting just around the corner, leaning against the concrete wall pretending to read one of the novels you’d assigned last fall. He brightened as he saw you, stuffing the dog-eared book into his back pocket. “Hey,” he breathed, joining your stride.

You smiled, parroting the same in response, unable to stop the tingles at the sight of him from radiating down your chest to flutter low. That hadn’t changed at all.

“Let me grab that,” Eddie offered with a nod of his chin.

You clutched the stack like a safety blanket, readjusting your hands against the stiff covers. “It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

“Come on, you probably shouldn’t be carrying so much while—” Eddie glanced around the bustling hallway, lowering his voice, ��in your current condition.”

You sighed, softened by the concern in his deep brown eyes, the way he hovered so attentively beside you. “Ok, fine.” Veering out of traffic, you halted by one of the bulletin boards and yielded the stack of books into his waiting arms.  

That was when he saw it—the swell under your floral cotton dress. 

It had appeared practically overnight. Or at least it seemed that way. You had been looking out for it for many weeks now, always checking in the mirror before you left, making sure your clothing covered anything suspicious. It was easy in the winter, but there hadn’t been much to hide then—aside from the truth to those closest around you. Now that the trees of late March were beginning to bud, your options were dwindling to dresses with empire waists and generous fabric, big t-shirts on casual Fridays. 

A lump caught in Eddie’s throat, eyes locked on the small bump. He almost dropped the books, hands burning with the urge to feel the evidence of his fatherhood. Your eyes met for a long, heavy second, welling with mutual recognition. Chatter echoed off the tile, lockers slammed, shoes squeaked and quickened with the approaching bell. Reluctantly, you broke his gaze to glance around, folding your arms protectively across your midsection before starting slowly down the hall again. 

It was a longer walk than usual, or maybe it just felt that way because of the weight of your predicament hanging between you, or maybe it was born out of the desire to be close as long as possible.

Suddenly, a freshman whizzed by, weaving in and out of traffic to bump past your left shoulder. You stumbled, clutching your belly reflexively as your feet righted themselves beneath you. 

Eddie felt a rage course through him like he’d never felt before. Icy like fear, but igniting to a blind fury that seared through his veins, made his vision narrow until he saw nothing but red. “HEY!” he barked. All of a sudden his shoes were pounding the tile as if moving on their own, books shifting to his left arm while his right reached for the handle on the freshman’s yellow backpack. He yanked the kid back, almost lifting him off the ground to face him. “How ‘bout you watch where you’re going, ‘kay?” he gritted.

Terror swept across the freshman’s pimpled face. “‘Kay,” he eked out. 

Nostrils flaring, Eddie held his gaze for a second to drive home his point before releasing his grip. The freshman clambered away, straightening his shirt and glancing over his shoulder as he slunk into one of the classrooms. Eddie stood there a moment, staring at the door he’d vanished into, steadying his breath before your voice broke the spell.

“Eddie,” you started wearily, unable to maintain your exasperation when you saw the worry so vividly in his eyes.

“You tripped.”

“I’m fine,” you soothed, resuming your place, close enough to brush the hair on his arm. Though you didn’t condone the outburst, you couldn’t deny it stirred a warm, buzzing feeling in you. 

You walked together carefully in silence as the chaos swirled around you. But the tension didn’t leave his shoulders, not even once he unloaded the pile from his arms with a thud onto your desk. 

The classroom was empty, but not for long. Beyond the open door was a commotion of footsteps, any one of them with the potential to breech the threshold. Eddie eyed your bump again, and the stiffness in his jaw softened slightly to longing. Stepping around the corner of the desk, he closed in until it was just about the only thing between you. 

“I’m coming over later,” he said just above a whisper, eyes flitting up to yours before resting on your belly again.

A smile cracked through the worry on your face for just a moment before a glance at the door made it return. You could tell from the heat in his eyes just how badly he wanted to touch you, just how close he was to letting the impulse take over.

He followed your glance toward the door, then back to the subtle swell, rising and falling with your bated breath. With a determined set of his jaw, and eyes that brimmed with unbridled wonder, Eddie raised his hand and placed it firmly on your belly. It was warm and soothing, thumb stroking gently over the smooth cotton.

And for a fleeting moment, on an exhale you both shared, all was right in the world.

______

A/N: If you loved this, please tell me! And lmk if you want to be added to the AU taglist (which will be separate from my main one) because I will be writing more of these! Just little vignettes.

I am taking requests for anything and everything in this AU, so if there is a moment or situation you want to want to see, send me an ask!

Also, there will be a celebration hosted by the lovely @teddiemunson86 and @ladylilylost on their discord server tomorrow Sunday, Sept. 1st at 2pm EDT where I will be talking about chapter 17 and what the future has in store for our forbidden lovebirds (and maybe the AU as well)! If you're interested in joining, the link to the server is here. Hope to see you there!

Tagging my main list just this once to gauge interest: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly

@kissmyacdc @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @keeponquinning

@blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @alizztor @godcreatoreli

@ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxxsblog @siriusmuggle

@sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420

@readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless

@eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo

@eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi

@liminalpebble @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins @mimsthebannished @tssf-imagines

@eddiethesexy

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Moon

summary: things had been no less clear leading up to the homecoming dance. in fact, more questions had come up instead of having been answered...

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.3

You didn't know how you got there.

Alright. Fine. That was a lie.

As was the new routine, Aurora had dropped you off and feigned ignorance over Ajay. From there, Ajay had walked you to your locker like the ever vigilant watchdog he'd appointed himself as, then told you where to find Wally.

You'd gone to meet Wally at the day's designated out-of-the-way spot.

Bada bing, bada boom, you'd tripped and fallen into Wally's lap and now he had his hands on your ass and his mouth on your neck, whispering what sounded like a step-by-step guide on how to drive you insane. Your body was too hot, your clothes too constricting, your breathing too rough, and, Jesus, the sounds he made as he used his grip on your hips to grind you against him.

Needless to say, things had quickly escalated between you and Wally. His kisses had always been hungry, intense, turning you on to the point of self-combustion, but neither of you had had the time and space to explore where those kisses would go without interruption. Usually there was a school bell or a Group session or a clue come to light.

Not this morning. You had a free period; Group was postponed until next week due to the dance; and Simon and Maddie were occupied coercing Xavier to comply with Operation Claire.

Ugh.

Xavier would of course do it. He wanted so badly to help, to make things right, and if he had to manipulate his ex-mistress to redress the balance, so be it. You disagreed, but that was between the three of them, so you threw your hands up and turned a deaf ear to it, focusing instead on the Emerald Order, the symbols, and the tea.

Besides, Maddie and Simon would soon enough discover how miserable Xavier was at subterfuge. Compartmentalizing his relationships with Maddie and Claire took a whole different set of mental gymnastics. Back when it'd happened, had Maddie had an inkling that Xavier had been cheating and she'd confronted him about it? That boy would've cracked like an egg before she'd even finished asking the question.

"Where'd you go, baby?" Wally murmured, big hands sliding under your oversized hoodie to feel you, fingers splayed over your ribs, thumbs caressing the skin beneath the underwire of your bra.

Your brain was too soupy as a result to answer, "Hmm?"

Wally pulled back to give you an easy smile, lips red and kiss swollen. "There's my girl," he bumped the tip of his nose against yours, an affectionate boop, "You got away from me. What's wrong?"

Thinking of Xavier... You hadn't told Wally about the kiss. You needed to. You would. But did it have to be now? When he was rocking his hips against yours from below, movements slower and more subdued than before, but the effect nevertheless euphoric, heat binding tight in your belly. God, you could feel him, thick and hard against you through his sweatpants and your leggings. Pressed right there where you ached for him most.

You whimpered, a sound that Wally seemed to savor as he groaned and moved his hands back to your ass to grind you harder against him, "Fuck, I love the way you sound for me."

"You make it hard to think, Wally," You whined, drawing him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he flicked his tongue against yours.

"Yeah?" He breathed, sliding his hands under your hoodie and then into your leggings, skin to skin, "You like how I touch you?" He leaned in, nipping the sensitive spot below your ear, "Let me make you feel good, baby."

Jesus. Fuck. His voice. Heat flushed through you, pulsated between your thighs as he took you apart one syllable at a time. You gasped, keened, rolled your hips against his, fighting to disperse the fog that swaddled your thoughts. "I need to tell you something," you panted, head tipped back, eyes fluttering, "It's important."

Wally grazed his teeth over your pulse point, hummed, "You can tell me anything," and you could feel his smirk, "I'm listening."

Good. Great. Yep. You could do this.

Mustering your courage, you sat back, looked Wally in the eye, and tore off the band-aid, "Xavier tried to kiss me last night."

For a single, stressful beat, his grasp on you tightened, his body stiffened, and his eyes went dark and molten. Then, whoosh, he was himself again, hands smoothing up and down your thighs as if to reassure you, rendering an open expression of willingness.

A compassionate key, "What happened, baby?"

The question uncorked a rambling speech you had no control of. A history lesson and personality highlights to diminish the severity of Xavier's misguided actions. To explain his behavior to someone who didn't understand him and, worse, didn't seem keen to give Xavier a chance.

"Look, he's been through a lot. He has abandonment issues which makes sense if you've been there. Trust me!" Abort. Abort. Abort. But you couldn't, the words just kept coming, "I stopped it before it even started. He was emotional. He's never ever done anything like that before and I know he won't do it again. It was a mistake and he knows it. I think he's just confused because of Maddie and Claire and then there was everything with Aiden, and Zav is family, right, so it was just as bad for him to learn the truth as it was for me, and his head's a mess—"

Wally shushed you calmly, one thumb stroking your hipbone, the other your the arch of your cheek as he cradled your jaw, "Baby, hey, stop, it's okay."

A switch flipped and your spiel came to a screeching halt. Bewildered by his composure, "It is?" you wanted to be sure. You'd thought it would be a whole thing. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Wally cradled your jaw. Angled your face forward so he could stamp a kiss to your forehead. Gazed at you with such profound adoration, you had to relieve the overload of emotion that swelled inside you by expelling some of it in a pitiful whine. In response, Wally smiled tenderly, "Did you want to kiss Xavier?"

You shook your head, "No."

"And you stopped it?"

You nodded. "Immediately."

"So, why would I be pissed?" Wally rationalized. And he was acting way too cool about this. Even for him.

Narrowing your eyes, "You're sure?"

Wally chuckled, snatching your hips into his, smoldering at you with his eyes on your lips and a dirty promise in his tone, "I swear, baby." He claimed your mouth in another hot, possessive kiss as his fingers kneaded your ass. "Now, if you don't mind, I wanna make you moan my name again..."

That had been... ... ... ...too easy. You sensed there was something he wasn't telling you, but he was doing that thing with his teeth on your neck again, hands everywhere, hips hitching, and, swiftly, you couldn't have given less of a fuck.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier didn't know how you did it. How you masterfully played the part of an oblivious, non-ghost-seeing person when they were all around you. Quipping and commenting and cursing you out.

Okay. You'd probably never dealt with your ex-girlfriend's justifiably angry half-ghost haunting you throughout the day in order to ensure you were adhering to a terrible, horrible, extremely fallible plan to wheedle a body-snatching confession from the person you'd cheated on said half-ghost ex-girlfriend with. Gasping inhale.

Regardless, Xavier had seen Jumpsuit—Ajay, your voice supplied in Xavier's mind—report to you while you and Mathilda were having a conversation. While you'd acknowledged Ajay with an imperceptible gesture, you hadn't missed a beat. Had carried on with Mathilda like Ajay hadn't said a word. Not even a flicker, a stammer, a hesitation marker. Just giggly inside jokes and friend group gossip.

Meanwhile, Xavier twice had had to refill his ketchup over lunch because Nicole wasn't part of Team Parabnormal and Maddie had had a rolling commentary of opinions that Simon had graciously shared for Nicole's benefit. Maddie and Simon's perpetual canon had made Xavier want to tweeze his hair out. He hadn't known who to listen to, what to respond to, where to look.

You'd told Xavier on the way to the game last night about Wally and sophomore year; how Wally had tried to prove you could see him by pulling jump scares and babbling endlessly. Xavier respected the shit out of you in general, but that respect had grown significantly after spending lunch fighting for his life not to slip up and reveal the presence of Maddie's half-ghost to Nicole.

Nicole would probably have taken it well, too. She was awesome. She didn't criticize everything Xavier said, and took him seriously when he expressed concerns over his part in Operation Claire. Contrary to Maddie and Simon's belief, Xavier sucked at lying. To this day, he had no idea how he'd pulled off dating two people at once. But Maddie and Simon had snidely reminded him of that stain on his social resume and now Xavier was stuck in the middle of a heart to heart in the boy's locker room, praying for the ground to open as Claire stared into his soul.

"—I felt bad about the way I treated you, and it just—it took me awhile to press send." Keep going. Do better. "And I guess I... I miss you."

Claire teased, "Oh, you guess."

"I know I miss you," Xavier amended.

His heart nearly gave out when, after a daunting lull wherein Xavier saw his life flash before his eyes, Claire said, "Pick you up at seven tomorrow."

He'd done it. Holy~ shit. He'd done it. He'd successfully convinced Claire that he still wanted her. Sure, it wasn't entirely false. Their trysts had been fun if one didn't take into consideration the dishonesty and betrayal. But whatever attraction Xavier had had for Claire had simmered since Maddie's disappearance and now more closely resembled appreciation.

He couldn't wrap his head around it. Two and a half weeks ago, he'd been salivating over Claire, desperate for her, wagging his tongue like a 1930s cartoon hound in rut. And then, overnight, poof, all those hormones and feelings had fizzled out.

Claire was beautiful. No doubt about that. She carried herself like a queen, conducted herself like a Fortune 500 CEO, and curated herself like a priceless work of art. Yet, Xavier couldn't summon that need, that all-consuming desire that had drawn him to her in the first place.

He watched Claire walk away, strutting out of the boy's locker room, painted-on jeans hugging her curves. A sight that had once made Xavier walk into a wall. And now? Yeah, it was nice to look at, he was a guy, but he remained startlingly indifferent.

Xavier didn't have the chance to reflect on it before someone stepped into the space Claire had vacated. A tall, visibly unhappy someone whose jaw ticked and whose eyes drilled into Xavier the exact nature of this encounter. You know, in case he couldn't read the room. Wally Clark was indeed as thoughtful as you'd mentioned.

Behind Wally, Ajay leaned his back against the lockers, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles. Xavier recognized he wasn't there as backup. Alternatively, his presence was to make sure things didn't get out of hand. A buffer. A referee. Oh, Wally was mad mad.

The fact that Wally couldn't touch him was enough to keep Xavier from preparing his stance to defend himself. The last thing he wanted was to draw unwanted attention while the rumors of him being a murderer still circulated. Add hallucinations, and not even the fact that his dad was the Sheriff would keep him out of the suspect pool.

Wally loomed over Xavier with menace, the lights above him flickering as his anger permeated the air. Wally crowded Xavier into the lockers, so close that Xavier could smell his cologne and feel Wally's breath on his face.

Without a word, Wally punched the locker beside Xavier's head, the bang making Xavier flinch. There was a glint of satisfaction in Wally's eye before, to Xavier's horror and amazement, Wally shoved a digit into the center of Xavier's chest. Suddenly feeling like prey, Xavier whipped his head to Ajay who—not good—was standing at attention, the look on his face mirroring Xavier's shock.

"I can't hurt you because my girl, for whatever fucking reason, loves you." Wally pressed out between clenched teeth, glaring down his nose at Xavier. "I don't like you. I think you're a slimy piece of shit who deserves to have your face rearranged." And if that wasn't threatening enough, Wally pushed his finger harder into Xavier's chest, "Don't fucking do it again."

Xavier swallowed dry and nodded as subtly as he could before glancing down at Wally's finger. "How the fuck—?"

Wally obviously knew how the fuck, but he didn't share with the class. Instead, he backed off, turned on his heel and collected Ajay before exiting the locker room.

Xavier deflated against the lockers, taking in shaky breaths as he collected himself.

Eli appeared, clad only in his boxers, towel drying his hair, already rattling about going for pizza with the gang—Mathilda, Hana, Lucas, and, presumably, you—after the dance. When Xavier didn't answer him right away, Eli dropped the towel and looked at Xavier quizzically, "You okay, chief? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Xavier grimaced.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

At home, you were curled up on your desk chair, Aurora behind you wielding her hair curler, bobby pins poking out from the corner of her mouth as she styled your hair for the homecoming dance. Your dress hung on the back of your door. Emerald green satin and spaghetti straps, structured bodice and A-line skirt. It had pockets.

Aside from being your personal hair stylist and makeup artist, Aurora had also opened her closet to you and lent you a pair of tall, chunky heels that matched the color of your dress. You weren't much of a heels girlie, but Wally had height and you wanted to kiss him without folding him in half.

Unbeknownst to him (and everyone except Xavier who'd given you the keys to his truck), you had a plan. A plan that involved a blow up mattress and a pile of blankets to cover your body in the bed of the truck while your ghost made merry with Wally unhindered. Was it risky? Yeah. Was it worth it? Hell yes. You'd make appearances here and there as your living self—you had to, the band was scheduled to kick off the revelry—but, ultimately, you wanted spend a stress-free night in the arms of your very sexy date.

"You feel pink, little sister," Aurora commented around the bobby pins. "You excited to see Simon?"

Right. That.

Simon had agreed to meet you at the house and pose as your date. It had been a semi-awkward conversation throughout which he and Maddie had teased you. There'd been an item of negotiation. Namely, you'd had to take a folded up note from Maddie and pass it to Simon for a reason neither disclosed. But, in the end, Simon had been happy to be of service.

Nicole would drop him off in—you glanced at the boysenberry Kit-Kat Klock above your desk—twenty-five minutes; he'd say hi to Aurora and Ginny, act a little lovestruck, and then you'd drive to the school in Xavier's truck.

Everything was working out perfectly. Except the matter of Aurora's mug of tea sat on your desk, the nasty stench doing its level best to overtake your perfume. It wasn't as bad as being trapped in the confines of the car with it, your window open and your room much bigger. Still nauseating, though. You stared at her mug and deliberated whether or not to ask Aurora about Dave who also enjoyed a cup of sewer water with his breakfast.

Seeing Dave at the school last night, sneaking around the basement like he was on a mission, had made you uneasy and you realized you didn't know a damn thing about the guy who slept two stories below you.

Glancing at Aurora in the mirror, you ventured, "Rory...how'd you meet Dave?"

She seemed ecstatic that you'd finally asked, plucked the pins out of her mouth and giddily said, "Feeling romantic, huh? And you kept denying it when I called Simon your boyfriend!" After she'd seen you on the swings with him that night he'd found the money in Mr. Anderson's classroom.

You tried not to cringe, "Sure, let's go with that."

"Well," Aurora began, twirling a curl into a roll atop your head and pinning it in place, "We met when I was in New York. Obvi. I actually met him through Carol—" Xavier's mom "—when she was there for a realtor's mixer. They worked together."

"Dave's from Split River?" You were surprised. He didn't sound like he was from Wisconsin. He had a very proper way of speaking. Controlled. Crisp. More Big City Society than Small Town Midwestern. Perhaps it was something he'd learned to do in order to charm prospective investors.

"Born and raised," Aurora confirmed. "Anyway, I went to meet Carol for lunch and Dave tagged along. The rest is history."

"That's it? You ate lunch together?"

Aurora dismissed your cynicism with an eye roll, "No. We stayed in touch after he left. You know, texting and Skype. And then he transferred to the NYC branch of his company. We moved in together after two months," She sighed as if reliving that era of their relationship.

"If you know, you know." You muttered, not sure that Aurora had known, however that wasn't for you to say.

"Exactly."

Staring at the tea again. "Was he the one who brainwashed you into drinking that stuff?" You indicated to her mug.

Again, Aurora rolled her eyes, "You'd like it if you tried it," she insisted.

"I really wouldn't."

Answering your question, "No," Aurora said, "That was Carol. Same trip. She brought it with her. I think it was supposed to be a gag gift." Aurora pondered, "She gave it to me to help me manage my stress. Working where I was, I had enough of that to go around."

"Really?" You frowned at her reflection, "You always seemed so chill when we talked."

"I kept a lot of things to myself, Sissy May." Aurora said, not catching the way you went rigid at the nickname. She'd been the one to call you that first. Aiden had picked up on it and had never looked back. So, you couldn't blame her for letting it slip out despite the many late-night phone calls in which you'd pleaded with her not to use the nickname anymore, explained how it triggered you. She'd been so mindful of it until recently. Specifically, the last couple of months.

You stared intently at her mug. "So, it's for stress?" How that was possible, you couldn't fathom because the smell was enough to make the vein in your neck pop.

"Mhm. Calms me way the hell down."

Like a mild sedative, you didn't voice, thinking of the three teenagers on the altars.

There was one more thing you wanted to know, something that had been nagging at you since last night, "Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"When I snuck out last week...did you make Dave come find me?"

You watched her carefully in the mirror, saw the stages of shock-horror she went through as she processed what you'd asked. She was so stunned that she almost burned your hair, the curler on for too long.

"You did what?"

"I'll take that as a no." You said, turning to face her properly. "Oh, like you didn't do the same thing when you were a teenager."

Aurora gaped, "I absolutely didn't, are you crazy!?"

"Oh my god," You groaned. "Nothing happened. I'm not drinking or having sex or doing drugs, Jesus. I was just hanging out with friends." Kind of. "Can we please talk about how you didn't even know, but Dave came to find me, like, an hour later so he wasn't following me, and he said you not only knew, you were the one who told him to do it?"

Aurora went through the motions of unplugged and setting aside the hair curler, tidying up the unused bobby pins, and uncapping the hairspray before she said anything. Either she couldn't process what you'd said or she needed the time to come up with an excuse.

"He probably heard you," She started, "And he probably woke me up to tell me. I must've told him to go get you. You know how I am, I'm like a zombie when I have to wake up before I get my eight hours."

"Strange how you used to wake up when I'd breathe too loud in my room at the other end of the hall with the door closed..." You quipped and gave her a hard look.

Aurora scoffed, "You get to your thirties and tell me if you're the same as you were when you were younger."

"Where's Dave now?" Because he hadn't come home at half-past six as was his routine.

Visibly uncomfortable with receiving the third degree, Aurora shot back, "At the office; he has a meeting with clients on the West Coast. What the fuck? You think he's cheating on me or something?"

You hadn't realized that that's how it sounded, "Actually, no, I don't." But, "I think he's lying to you about something. He was at the school after the game last night. Did you know that?"

Aurora didn't answer, her eyes darting about, "Maybe he went to pick you up?"

"I didn't ask him to. You obviously didn't ask him to. And when has he ever done anything for me from the kindness of his heart?"

"Why are you being such a bitch!? Dave is a good man. I wouldn't have married him if he wasn't."

You got to your feet, gesturing to emphasize your point, "Good or not, Rory, he was sneaking around the basement at school last night."

"You followed him?" Aurora frowned at you, "Did you see anything?"

You chewed your lip before admitting, "I lost him. Which is why I'm asking you."

Aurora stepped back until her legs hit your bed and then she sat down, pushing her hair out of her face and mulling over what you'd exposed about her goody two shoes husband. You joined her, sat close, studying her expression as she struggled to piece together a plausible explanation that didn't make Dave the bad guy.

"I'll ask him," She finally said.

"You think he'll tell you the truth?"

She shrugged, "If he doesn't, I'll know." According to Aurora, lies were painted in shades of grey and smelt like burnt rubber.

You glanced at her mug again, "You sure Dave didn't introduce Carol to the tea?" You posited, and Aurora looked at you like you'd gone off the deep end.

"What's with you and the goddamned tea?"

As much as you wanted to tell her, you couldn't. Your intuition blared that it wasn't safe. That your sister, who you'd idolized and loved unconditionally, couldn't be trusted. Not yet, anyway. Not until you were sure she wasn't lying to you about what she knew of Dave's whereabouts and intentions.

You hesitated. Veered the subject onto a parallel track, "Look, could you do me a favor? You're home now, you've been home for awhile. You aren't in the big city working a demanding job that requires sedation." Aurora groaned, about to interrupt, but you pressed on, "Just. See how you feel after not drinking the tea for a couple of days?"

Aurora analyzed you, her features creased in proper, attitude-free concern. "Fine. If it'll make you feel better, I'll stop for a couple of days." And then, "You know it's tea, right? Not Xanax."

"Rory." You whined in the way little sisters do when their big sisters say something annoying.

Aurora threw her hands up in surrender, "Just saying."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Twenty minutes later, Simon rang the doorbell, shifting from foot to foot. He was nervous. He'd never been to your house, had never met your family—waving to your sister from a swing set while she yelled at you through an open window didn't count—and he wasn't sure what to expect.

To be clear, he wasn't sure what to expect from a family of, "we're not witches, Simon, stop."

In that case, a family of magical people whose abilities ranged from seeing ghosts to acute empathy to psychometry to, what the hell was it? Oh yeah, full-fledged divination.

You'd rattled off who would and wouldn't be there; your mom was visiting your uncle in Milwaukee for the night, your Nanna was minding the family flower shop on behalf of your sister who was home to assist you with your nails or lashes or whatever.

If Simon recalled correctly, that meant he had to be wary of your sister the empath and your great-aunt the astral traveler. He could do this. In the last two weeks, he'd been arrested, questioned by police, turned the tables and had his teacher arrested, manifested clairvoyance, embarked on a quest to dismantle a death cult that may or may not have resurfaced, and passed a history test on no hours of sleep. If he could overcome all that, this would be a cake walk.

When the door opened, he was greeted by an elderly woman who he identified easily to be your great-aunt. And, wow, she knew how to make an impression. Beautiful, looked younger than her age with rose gold hair and bright blue eyes, tiny frame swimming in satin. She smiled warmly at him, levering him into a hug before she ushered him inside.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Simon," She said, her voice rich and deep for a woman, at odds with her pixie-like appearance.

Politely, "It's nice to meet you, too, ma'am," he replied, trailing her into the living room where she gestured for him to take a seat at the corner of the couch.

She fell into an armchair beside him, legs crossed, eyes openly grazing up from his shoes to his hair. He felt his ears burn when she at last settled her gaze on his.

"Call me Ginny," She offered, "A friend of hers is family here."

Simon smiled, "Thanks." He liked her. There was something magnetic about her. Fun. Interesting. He wanted to sit with her over coffee and listen to her tell him her life story. Without knowing anything about Ginny, he could tell she'd lived an exciting life, probably filled with African safaris and cruises around the Mediterranean. She just had that aura about her.

As they chatted—Ginny posing the usual small-talk questions and Simon dutifully answering—he noticed the pendant on one of her necklaces. He wouldn't have been drawn to it had it not stood out against the long strings of bejeweled costume jewelry. In comparison, it was plain, understated, a very simple piece that didn't match the rest of Ginny's aesthetic.

A round piece of silver with a design that reminded Simon of the sun.

She must've noticed him staring because, "It's lovely isn't it?" she said, leaning forward and holding the pendant away from her collar for Simon to see. "An heirloom. Once part of a pair." At Simon's questioning gaze, she elaborated, "Earrings. But one of them wandered off somewhere along the line, so I strung this one on a chain. I simply couldn't part with it."

"It's beautiful." Simon said as he admired the pendant. "Does the symbol mean anything?"

Ginny nodded, "Actually, it does. The compass is to keep your soul on the right path, the sun beneath it represents clarity in this case, to ensure your vessel remains clean. And the flower," She used her Victory Red pinky nail to indicate, "is another layer of purity." She chuckled, "Essentially, it's to ward off any bad juju that tries to enter you."

Simon listened closely, curious if she wore it because she was a traveler, like you'd told him. Her soul could walk out of her body on a whim, which, to Simon, suggested something else could walk in. Including but not limited to bad juju as she'd put it. Was that possible? He really wanted to ask, but knew he couldn't.

The click-clack of heels on hardwood turned Simon's attention to the hall. He stood, smoothed his suit jacket and stepped around the couch, eyes widening and jaw going slack when he saw you descending the stairs.

"Wow."

You looked...gorgeous. Stunning. He'd never seen you done up like that before, makeup that enhanced your features rather than made a statement, hair in loose curls that fell down your back, a cocktail dress in a color that complimented your skin. He was, to put it lightly, gobsmacked.

Wally was a lucky guy, Simon thought.

Your sister giggled and whispered something to you that sounded like, "He's pink, too," which...did that make sense? Because he didn't understand. He'd have to ask you when you and he were safely alone in the truck.

Behind him, Ginny snickered to Simon, "We want her back in the same condition she's leaving in," to which Simon blushed to his roots.

Knowing something you didn't, he could only stammer, "I—yeah. I promise. No funny business."

Your sister seemed to disagree, squinting at him before she whispered to you again, this time telling you, "He's red now," then louder, for everyone to hear but directed at Simon, "Remember to keep room between you for the holy spirit."

Oh god. Simon's collar suddenly felt too tight. Ginny cackled and patted his shoulder, assuring him not to listen to your sister as she winked salaciously.

When he turned back to you, you had your hands over your face, grumbling, "I hate you both so much," to your sister and Ginny.

Grinning, Simon held out his arm to you, a charming, "Milady," as you banded your arm through his.

"Milord," You grinned back, "Let's go before they make us take pictures."

He agreed, wishing your sister and Ginny goodnight, and escorting you to the door. You grabbed a peacoat and a guitar case on your way out, waved to your family and bid them goodbye, groaning like the teenage girl you were at whatever, "You'd better still smell like jasmine tomorrow!" meant.

💀___________________________

PART TWO - PART FOUR

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter IV

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

a/n: alright, the moment you've all been waiting for, it's nothing but smut from start to finish!! I took a mini-break to write something else but I plan on getting chapter v, maybe even vi out before I post part ii of let's make love!! this fic is gonna be around 8-9 chapters if I follow the outline I have laid out so we're at the halfway point now (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) also—always remember to wrap it up girlies!!

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, nsfw, non-linear narrative, trauma bonding, resolved sexual tension, praise kink (both ways), oral (giving), loss of virginity, dirty talk

tags: @asvtrials @urfavhanna @orangebeauty @3arthtoeden @barnes70stark (comment if you wanna be notified when a new chapter drops)

wc: 2.8k

Masterlist Next Chapter

If this really is the end, maybe this isn't such a bad way to go out—making out with someone as hot as Bjorn. 

It's been awhile since you've kissed anyone, more than a little out of practice, not that Bjorn seems to mind, slipping his tongue in your mouth, overwhelming it. 

Your fingers thread through the sweaty tangle of his hair, dislodging some of the loose sediment and debris that had showered you both earlier, your other palm sliding up the side of his neck to cradle him just below the jaw, the slick, wet noise of your tongues meeting echoing through the limited space. 

This is the last thing you ever expected to happen, apart from the cave-in, swapping spit with your sworn enemy while you await your inevitable demise. Always assumed if anything were to go down between you two it would be homicide, with you in cuffs and Bjorn six feet under. 

In reality you are much, much further down below LV-410's surface, spending your last few moments alive with the last person you wanted to spend them with. At least, that's how you felt prior to you and Bjorn's little heart-to-heart, able to come to an understanding that whittled the strain down to almost nothing.  

Bjorn's hand drifts from where it's cradling your cheek down and over your grimy t-shirt, yanking the hem free from the cinched waistband of your standard-issued cargo pants it's tucked into. Slips it underneath the ratty fabric to touch your bare skin, skimming the flat of his calloused palm over your stomach up to the underwire of your bra, flirting along the edge. 

He slips his hand under that too, cupping the entirety of your breast, the dry rub of his thumb over your nipple hurting just right. 

“Bjorn,” you whine, watching him pull back, a string of saliva stretching between your lips, the lighting casting orange shadows to dance across his face, eyes heavy-lidded and narrow, “please.”

Immediately obliging, he rucks your cotton tee and bra up and over your collarbones so your tits are out, arms coming up to cover yourself on reflex when he stops you, pinning your wrists in the dirt above your head with one hand. 

“Don’t go shy on me now, princess, we've only jus’ started," except—it’s Bjorn's turn to go shy, cheeks turning an uncharacteristic shade of pink as he looks down and away, voice a little insecure when he whispers, “jus’—tell me if it feels good or not.” 

Then he's diving forward to close the distance between your body and his, the broad stroke of his tongue over your nipple making you writhe beneath him. 

What he lacks in experience he makes up for in enthusiasm, sucking with a fervor that has you feeling hot all over before he's switching to the other side, replacing his mouth with his hand to fondle your heaving, wet breast at the same time. There's a saying that passion is an extension of hatred.

“Oh—fuck,” you whimper, almost having forgotten how euphoric it feels to have someone else touch you so intimately, “so good. You sure you've never done this before?”

That seems to spur him on, gaining more confidence as he continues working over your chest, blowing warm air over the cool wetness of your nipples, starting to soak through your underwear as a result and you haven't even gone that far. Yet. 

“God if only ya’ could see urself right now,” Bjorn groans, low and breathy, “Lookin’ like a propa’ wet dream.” 

Bjorn lets your wrists go to rip both of your shirts off, pulling him down into another filthy, wet kiss, lifting your shoulders off the ground long enough to unhook your bra for you, swallowing each other's moans. 

You're aware that you're running on borrowed time, the shaky rumble of the tunnel you're hooking up in providing a morbid reminder. Breaking the kiss, you lightly push back against his naked chest when he tries to chase after you, sharing winded breaths between your barely separated lips. 

“Easy now,” you chuckle, tucking a sweaty curl behind his ear, over the little frowny face he has tattooed there,“you still wanna lose your v-card, don't you?” 

The nod he offers you is quick, eager—definitely virginal, turning you on more than you thought it would. There's just something insanely hot knowing you're the first to touch him like this, the only one so far to witness him desperate for more. 

“On your back,” you tell him, naturally taking charge, cutting him off right before he can interject, “now be a good boy and listen. Can you do that for me?” 

You watch the rapid flutter of his lashes at the pet name, the whites of his eyes showing as his pupils roll back into his head like he just came from that alone. Well—who would've figured Bjorn to have a praise kink; deciding to file that away, planning on weaponizing it to your complete advantage.

“Oh—did you like that? Me calling you a good boy,” you purr, reveling in the breathy moan he gives back in response, feeling a little powerful as he follows your instruction, sprawling out without any push back. “There you go, just like that. Look at you taking direction so well.”

Kissing down his chest and over the thin happy trail disappearing into his pants, you feel him shiver in anticipation. You pull the metal prong on his belt, unfastening the leather until the strap is lying on either side of his hips, hands a little shaky. 

You're just as nervous as he is, wanting it to be good for his first—and last—time, opening his zipper, the gold teeth revealing the tented fabric of his briefs as you yank it all the way down, damp from pre-come. He's looking forward to this just as much as you are. 

“I’m gonna go down on you,” you explain, Bjorn drawing a ragged intake of breath into his lungs hearing that, assuming neither of you have lube on you, “need you nice and wet, then you're gonna get me nice and wet if we're gonna make this happen. Okay?” 

A smirk stretches across his lips as his chin raises, a fraction of that familiar cockiness returning, finding it more attractive than you normally would, “Oh? Gonna gag on it, princess?” 

“I can't believe I'm seriously about to put your dick in my mouth,” you grumble, choosing to keep up the illusion of irritation, if only to slightly detach yourself from the situation you've found yourself in, from the exceedingly foreign flicker of your heart.  

You unsheath his cock from the unbuttoned fly of his underwear, eyes going wide when you finally lay eyes on him. Fuck. He's big. Of course he is, his grossly misplaced confidence making a lot more sense now. 

“Droolin’ already, love?” He laughs, loosely steepling his fingers together behind his head, face rearranging into something incredibly smug. 

Rather than saying anything you let a fat glob of spit fall from your mouth to make the slide easier, working your way up from base to tip, mixing your saliva with his pre-come, fueled by the continuous stream of moans he's feeding you. 

Your mouth closes around him, the few strands of hair that had come loose from your ponytail framing your face, hollowing your cheeks to pay special attention to his head, the bitter taste of salt spreading out across your tongue.

Bjorn's sensitive, you can immediately tell, judging by how responsive he is to everything you're doing, swearing a litany of curses under his breath as your tongue massages the underside of his cock, swirling around it, babbling things like, “fuck—jus’ like tha,’ ur a fuckin’ pro a’this, holy shit” and, “m’ gonna come if ya’ keep this up, princess.” 

You pull off with an audible wet pop, shushing Bjorn when he starts to whine at the loss, “now, now. Can't have you coming too soon, can we? Not when we haven't even gotten to the best part.”

He gets the hint to sit up after tugging on his wrist, chest heaving and flushed down to his navel like he just ran a marathon. You didn't think it was possible for Bjorn to look this devastatingly attractive but he's once again proven you wrong, not that you mind at all in this case.   

“Alright,” you say, getting on your knees to rip your pants and underwear down and off your legs, shuddering under the weight of his lustfully heedy gaze, staring at your soaking wet core as he licks his lips nice and slow. “My turn.”

Drawing his wrist to your mouth, you wrap your tongue around two of his dirty fingers up to the last knuckle so you can suck them clean, get them ready, “gonna teach you how to open me up, get me nice and stretched for your cock. Would you like that?” You check, words a bit muffled with your mouth preoccupied.  

Bjorn groans watching you, hastily nodding his approval, following the path your tongue takes as you curl it around and splice between, finding satisfaction in how much he's enjoying your little show. Which is brand new for you, never having gotten this turned on by giving your bed partner pleasure. 

Once you've deemed them sufficiently wet enough you lead his fingers down between your thighs, sliding between your folds, lashes fluttering at the contact, “ur fuckin’ drippin,’ princess. Allat’ jus’ fo’ me?” 

You don't even have it in you to deny it, whimpering “yes,” as the first finger goes in with ease, pushing and pulling his wrist to steadily fuck it in and out of you, twisting and telling him to curl it upward, hitting your g-spot dead on. 

“God that's—you're doing so good, such a good boy,” Bjorn diving forward and shoving his tongue down your throat in another desperate, filthy kiss, pumping his finger faster, repeatedly brushing over the same spot you told him about that has your thighs trembling and your eyes rolling. He's certainly a quick learner. 

His second finger joins the first upon your instruction, scissoring them apart to stretch you wide open, foreheads leaning against each other while you both watch them disappear inside you, fragmented breathing and occasional moans punctuating the shared air between you. 

It doesn't take long before you're pulling his fingers out, licking them clean to get him even more riled up, jaw getting tight as he grits his teeth, looking like he wants to devour you whole, causing heat to coil through you. Fuck, you've never wanted anyone more. 

“So howdya’ wanna do this?” He asks, reclining back, keeping himself propped up on his elbows so he can stare up at you appreciatively. 

Your answer is immediate, having already thought about it earlier, crawling over his body to straddle his hips and hover just above him, “gonna ride you.” 

You figure it'll be the best position to do it in, will give you complete control, being able to set the pace and angle while Bjorn can just lie there and reap all the benefits.  

He smirks hearing your answer, cocking his head sideways as his eyebrows raise, arches disappearing underneath his bangs, “fuckin’ knew ya’ wanted ta’ sit on it.” 

“Bjorn,” you scold, pushing squarely against the abdominal muscle in his solar plexus until he's lying flat on his back again, “be a good boy and shut up.”

That does the trick, moaning a “kay” as you get ready to sink down, feeling the blunt pressure of his head against your entrance when you realize something important—he isn't wearing any protection.  How did you almost overlook something like that? The arousal must be clouding whatever critical thinking skills you're still working with.

Wait,” you pause, grabbing his attention, listening to him whine in annoyance at you to “not be a fuckin’ cocktease,” lightly slapping his chest in retaliation, “do you have any condoms on you?” 

“Huh?” He blinks, moony-eyed, mirroring your dumbfounded expression, clearly also thinking with the wrong head, “nah, why would I?” 

“Damn it,” you groan, considering backing out of the whole thing, not sure if you really want to let him hit it raw. You've never let anyone fuck you without one, the only contraceptive Jackson's Star has to offer—is even willing to offer, their attempt to force a baby boom with how incredibly low the colony’s population currently is. “Why not?” 

“Well sorry ta’ say I don't jus’ carry rubbas’ on me babes, neva’ saw tha’ point since I wasn't gettin’ none ‘nyway. Besides—da’ we even really need one?”

“You're joking, right?” You give him an incredulous look, thighs starting to tremble from how long you've been holding yourself up, “I don't want a UTI, fucking in a mineshaft is already reckless enough.”

That and you're definitely not looking to get knocked up, especially by Bjorn of all people, preferably by no one at all. You just can't imagine subjecting a baby to such a miserably hopeless situation like the one you're doomed to die in. 

“Well tha’ won't really matta’ when we're squashed like a coupla’ bugs, now willit?’” he challenges, feeling your resolve waver, hating to admit that Bjorn’s been making solid points throughout the night. 

He's right. It won't matter, none of it does, not in the long run when your bodies are inevitably being dug out from under the rocks and support beams waiting to topple over onto you. 

So—you make up your mind and sink all the way down, only stopping once you're fully seated in his lap, listening to the drawn out groan that escapes him when he's bottomed out. 

“Shit,” he whines, eyes momentarily closing while he adjusts to the tight, wet heat hugging his cock, “ya’ feel fuckin' incredible princess.” 

You place both hands on his chest to keep you stable as you start to move, lifting all the way up to the tip before dropping back down, your shared moans echoing off the walls around you. 

His hands come up to squeeze your thighs hard enough to bruise, aiding you in the slick slide with his shirt balled up and pillowed beneath his head. You don't remember it ever feeling this good—this mind-blowing, your bodies molding together like they were made for each other. 

The wet slap of skin fills the air, angling your hips to repeatedly hit your g-spot again, your orgasm building quick, reaching down to massage your clit in time with your bouncing. 

Bjorn plants both feet on the dirt to fuck up into you harder, head falling back as your eyes close, slapping your hand out of the way to replace it with his own, “fuck. This is betta’ than I coulda imagined, takin’ ma' cock so well. Gonna come soon.”  

His arm circles your waist then, pulling you on top of him, taking the reins to thrust inside of you at his own erratic pace, moaning filthy shit into your ear like, “love tha’ way ya’ moan fo’ me,” and “ur such a plesha’ ta’ use.”

He sucks a hickey into your neck, your chest sliding up and down his from the force of his hips, signaling he's about to bust with a low grunt, offering to pull out and aim it at you somewhere instead. 

But it doesn't matter, right? Hearing an ominous grinding coming from the rubble behind you, blocking off the path leading to the tunnel’s entryway—the final collapse. 

So you shake your head no, begging him to come inside you, to consummate your relationship and make you his just before the end. And he does, sliding in deep as he moans your name and releases everything he has to offer, milking you into an orgasm of your own, sucking a matching hickey into his clavicle. 

Listening to the thump of his rabbiting heartbeat as your breathing starts returning to normal, you feel him press a kiss to your temple in a silent thank you. You want him to hold you, to keep you close and give you the illusion of safety as everything unavoidably collapses around you. 

Except—nothing ends up collapsing,  realizing the grinding you heard is the sound of drilling, excavating through the rock and splintered wood to get to you, sharing a bewildered look with Bjorn when you both recognize it. You're not dying like you both thought, you're being saved. 

Both of you barely manage to get dressed just as a sudden stream of headlamps flood through the hole that's been made, just big enough to accomodate one body at a time, your pupils going small under the bright white lights.

A small group of miners are crouched there, instructing both of you to quickly crawl to the other side towards them before everything ultimately comes down, rendering their little rescue mission futile.

You let Bjorn go first, still rooted to the spot, completely shell shocked as you watch him squeeze his way through with the help of some hands being extended out to him, not once glancing back your way.

You're gonna live to see another day. You just had unprotected sex with Bjorn and now you have no choice but to deal with the aftermath that tomorrow will inevitably bring.

[empthy1]

Sydney Adamu - Blessed

for @wandaszn, who asked for some bottom!syd x reader :D warnings: soft smut, a lot of yapping, I've never seen the bear or been to Chicago so apologies for any inconsistencies in character or setting. also Cleo Sol reference b/c I was listening to her while writing this anyways first fic yippee!!

Small blessings.

That's what Sydney had.

A shitty apartment- but hey. The rent's low, and it has a small kitchen. She can't have a cat- her landlord would crucify her- but she wouldn't have time to take care of one anyway, with how much she works.

She has to take a bus that smells to work everyday it rains. Which is often. But it's only one stop and takes ten minutes, tops. She can deal with the woman with the yappy dog at seven in the morning, and the guy who always smelled like weed.

She found happiness in small things. Perfecting a recipe. A good day at the restaurant. Walking through the park on her one day off a month, getting pastries from a shop only a block from her apartment.

The big things came after she met you.

Now, she gets to come home after a long day to a bigger apartment, one that's less shitty. This one permits pets, allowing her to feel the brush of a orange, furred mass between her stepping feet as she crosses the threshold.

She can smell the takeout you'd gotten, the one night a week she's permitted you to (if she can cook for you, she sees no reason why you have to pay for someone to make it. She's totally not jealous). There's probably a plate set up, already in the microwave for her to heat.

She's not interested in that.

Her coat and bag are soon hanging from one of the racks on the wall, her boots discarded as well. She's already pulling off her sweater as she approaches your curled up form on the couch, your head already peeking out from the blankets. She can hear the soft voice of Cleo Sol in the air, the vinyl spinning happily with no potential noise complaint to worry about. Good neighbors are another unexpected godsend.

"Hey, Syd." Comes your soft, sleepy greeting. You're sitting up, the fabric slipping off of your form like water. Despite the cold temperatures outside, you're still warm as she sinks into you.

"Hi." She really, really doesn't feel like talking. It'd been a stressful day, the rush taking it out of the kitchen more than usual- especially with Carmy's ever-increasing perfectionism. Your coos in her ear are a welcome distraction, the kisses pressed to her neck a balm to her very soul.

Her hand wraps around the back of your neck, drawing your mouth to hers. She's ever so pliant after stressful days; she follows your lead easily as you lay her down on the soft cushions of the sofa you found (another blessing). The kiss you share is lazy, your warm hands softly snaking under her cotton bra to palm at her.

She can't focus on anything other than your hands, her lips stalling under yours- only opening to let soft, pleased sounds escape. It allows your mouth to focus on her neck, to drag down a beautiful throat, gleaming in the low lamplight.

She doesn't protest as you unclip her bra. A sigh of relief escapes her, the almost painful underwire that'd plagued her for hours no longer a problem. Another sigh, this one more a moan, sounds when your mouth meets the skin of her chest and envelops a peaked bud.

You linger there for a minute, pressing gentle kisses to every inch of skin you can. It makes the heat in her gut grow, like a bear rousing from hibernation- ever present, but dormant. Her strong hands meet your shoulders, her one callused finger rough. She's pushing you down towards the curling warmth.

Her hips lift as your hands meet the waistband of her jeans. The button slipping free makes her jolt impatiently. The slow drag of the zipper forces a whine free from her tensed throat. She's kicking the denim off before it even reaches her ankles, drawing a laugh from your throat. She almost kicked you in her neediness.

With the show you made of her pants, she's relieved when her damp panties soon follow. The sound torn from her chest when your mouth meets her is nothing short of guttural. Your tongue is warm as it sweeps through her folds, gently exploring the flesh you're so familiar with as if it's the first time. Little whines escape her, soft noises of pleasure filling the open living-room, joining the sweet mix of instruments and voice.

She almost sobs when you lap at her clit, her hands fumbling for something to grab- soon finding your roaming fingers, interlacing with them and resting, joined, on her heaving chest.

Her climax isn't something unexpected, doesn't creep up on her; it's a soft, slow build, the feeling of your tongue on her soaked flesh and your fingers in hers getting more and more intense with every passing minute. When your tongue moves, slipping down and in, her hips raise with a groan, fingers squeezing yours as she gushes on your tongue.

Her mind is gone to the heavens, even after you withdraw. When you curl next to her, throwing one of the many blankets over the both of you. Her lips lazily meet yours as she wraps her bare arms around you. Her expert tongue, refined from hours of study in the kitchen, tastes your mouth. The mix of sour her and sweet you may be the most exquisite thing she's every had.

Despite her nakedness, and the chill seeping in from outside, she drifts off, warmer than she's ever been, feeling so blessed to have your soft, solid form against hers and a lazy cat at your feet.

The music plays on. The snow still falls. However, nothing breaks the bubble, the home you've made with each other.

[milkycatswithpetals]

Hurt/comfort, cursing(one right in the beginning), self indulgent, fem!reader, insecure reader(belly fat, imperfect skin), mentions of being too tired to shower, mentions of wearing dresses, misogynistic sentences said by readers mother, old-fashioned lover boy Hyune(loml), mentions of not eating, mentions of periods, tell me if I forgot something.

Tell me if you want a part two!!

•••

You were feeling like shit. It was a week before your period, maybe that why. Anyways, you had a free day which you'd spend on running errands and then a date with your dear boyfriend, Hyunjin. But early in the morning, as you couldn't sleep thanks to your body to accustoming to work schedule, you put on your favourite sports bra. Something was off, it felt... A tad bit too small? You sighed and put on some sweatpants to go with the bra acting like a top. Yawning, you waddled over to the bathroom and stood before the mirror. You were all sweaty, but too tired to take a shower no matter how much you wanted to. You stared at your reflection, hair messy and greasy - you'll just put it into a bun and hope hyun won't notice. You lazily dragged the hairbrush thru your hair, and put it up with the same hairtie as always - one thats stretched out as much as it could, with hair tangled around it. You took your time, looking at your reflection from different angles to catch sight of every insecurity. Your eyes lacked shine, burdened by the purple-ish eyebags, the soft jawline and chubby cheeks. By the time you got out of the bathroom, your nose was red and eyes watery from trying to get out blackheads with your nails. You knew it wasn't a good idea, but you couldn't care less if it made you bleed as long as you looked a certain way.

•••

The next destination was your kitchen, the first thing you did was fill the kettle and prepare your tea. The kettle rustled with the water that's starting to boil and your tummy rumbled. You opened the fridge door and started blankly at the contents. What were you waiting for? Well, your thoughts felt like they kept your arms binded closely to your sides. Your mind telling you that you don't need anymore food, look at your belly! It's protruding out, jiggling when you laugh. You frowned and sighed, shutting the doors. your hand found your belly, and tried to push it in. The lies made up by your mind were stopped when the kettle started to squeak. You brew the tea and stirred it, the spoon hitting the sides of your mug. Just as you were leaving, you rolled your eyes and stepped back. You almost forgot to take your meds.

•••

Throughout the day, you could feel the lack of nutrition. You couldn't focus at all, your body was trembling. You brushed sit aside and just went on with your chores, you hated cleaning the house but it felt just a bit nicer when you lived alone and did everything at your own pace. You glanced at your phone to check the time, 4 p.m already. Where did the time go? You didn't know either. You stood Infront of your dresser, biting your lips as you carefully picked out your outfit. You felt like you need to hide your body, so it landed on a knee-length, loose-fitting dress, and some shorts under – the world is full of creeps. You took all of the clothing to your bathroom, and threw it onto the closed toilet flap. Firstly, you tidied up your hair, then brushed your teeth. With a sigh, you put on your underwires bra. You hated bras, but your mother would always tell you that "your breasts will become saggy" and "it's a woman's fate to be uncomfortable". It was hard to let go of these thoughts, but you still felt enraged at the sentences. Then it was time to get on your makeup. Colored concealer, foundation, standard concealer... It was tiring. But you need to be pretty for Hyunjin, right?

•••

Half a hour later, you're done, somewhat pleased with your looks. You tested out different jewelry to complete your look, when you've got a message.

Hyunnie: I'll pick you up in ten, darling 🩷

You smiled at your phone, eagerly waiting for his arrival. You put on your shoes, the ones he got you. Once again lost in thoughts, the bell ringing brought you back to reality. Hyunjin waited at the hallway, a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand. He was the traditional type when it came to romancing you, he basically worshiped the ground you walked. After the courtesies were done, flowers in a vase, your hand kissed, the two of you went on your way to the restaurant.

"you're so beautiful, my dear. I'd paint you, but I'm afraid I won't be able to catch just how gorgeous you are."

Hyune said and brought your hand closer to him as he leaned into a sweet, innocent kiss right before starting the engine in his car. You felt like you didn't deserve him, like you were burdening him. You two have talked about this, but once again, it wasn't easy to let go of these thoughts. Hyunjin noticed your pale skin and saddened eyes, and it upset him deeply. Once at the restaurant, which was illuminated solely by candles giving it a mystic atmosphere, he held your hand tightly. He opted for a table with a sofa, so he could be as close to you as possible he kissed your knuckles again.

"baby, I can see you're feeling bad about yourself again. But know, no matter what's on your mind, you'll always be perfect to me. I love you unconditionally, and I don't care if you look like the beauty standards. You are my standard, and I'm one lucky man to be called yours"

Both of you knew that this wouldn't make you magically feel good at all times, but Hyunjin felt like he could spend an eternity solely praising you.

•••

He didn't pressure you to eat, but rather made it seem like something fun. He'd taste something first, and then kiss you with the bit of sauce still on his lip. If you liked it, he'd feed you, bite by bite while telling stories to distract you from the food. You didn't even notice when you ate a whole plate, and Hyunjin sneakily put the dirty dishes away so you wouldn't dwell on it. Once both of you finished your drinks, he lead you back to the car. Once you two arrived at your place, his plush lips found purchase on yours, his hand interwining with yours.

"is the sleepover offer still available?"

•••

[hunnie--bunnie]

𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿 ❥ 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝘂𝗿𝘂

𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲𝘀 ❥ big-titty!milf!reader, dilf!tattooed!periced!suguru, lactation, fingering, daddy/mama, some talk of breeding

𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿’𝘀 𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗲𝘀 ❥ dilf!suguru is the best suguru

Unclipping the left side of your nursing bra, you couldn't grasp what Suguru loves about it. The sheer material hid nothing and did little to support your heavier girls. Letting them bulge inside the thin fabric, while your milk easily soaks through.

The pudge of your breasts spills over your underwire once he frees it. Suguru cups your breasts swiping his large thumb over your sensitive nipple. Lightly working his tattooed fingers into the supple fat of your left tit.

Your milk trickles past his thumb and down the curve of your breasts, over his thick fingers. Suguru wonders, "Does my sexy mama need my help milking her beautiful breasts?" Propping your calf up on his shoulder. Which is red from biting down to muffle your groans last night.

Voicing in desperation, "They're so full, heavy please Daddy, make feel better ngg!" Pushing two fingers inside your pussy. Your jaw drops, as Suguru massages the sensitive spot. It takes seconds for the sensation to become too much, melting your brain.

Tangling your fingers into Suguru's dark hair, loosening his bun with a tug. Urging him deeper into the fat of your breasts while softly moaning, "Justlikethat." Your words mush together as the pleasure pulses out from the mounting pressure between your thighs.

Relishing in every swipe of Suguru's tongue with the hardness of his barbell rolling over your soft nipple. With the soothing circles, he rubs into your supple fat, which his fingertips vanish into.

Sliding your fingers through Suguru's luscious dark hair, slipping your stolen scrunchie out of his hair. Which cascades down his scratched-up tattooed backside. That you dig your heel into it as you slid your leg further over his shoulder pulling him closer.

The milk flowing into Suguru’s mouth offers you a temporary reprieve from the heavy, ache in your breasts. Feeling lighter with every mouthful Suguru drinks. As he keeps the same steady pace with his fingers, stroking the sweetest spot in your pussy, making your toes curls.

Leaning up, letting your tit go with a soft pop. Gently pressing his lips to yours, pressing you in a partial mating press with your leg still over his shoulder. Nudging his tongue past your lips, desperate for more of you.

Suguru's deep, passionate kiss always leaves you both breathless. Afterward, when Suguru smiles into several chaste breathless kisses, it's contagious. When he stops to study your face as if he's seeing you for the first time.

Suguru's voice is deep and smooth as he urges you, "Cum for me mama, make a pretty mess for your daddy to lick clean." Snapping the tension, plunging you into the deep end quickly.

Kissing your forehead before offering the pussy clenching praise of, "Good girl, you look so beautiful cumming." Suguru slides his fingers out slowly. And your pussy loudly squelching, causing him to point out,

"Sounds like she's begging me to breed her. Should I stuff her full of cum, make you my beautiful pregnant wifey again?" Licking his fingers clean with a loud groan. Dipping his head kissing your pussy, slipping his tongue past.

Expressing to Suguru, "Please, daddy, please give me your warm cum, make my belly swell again." Groaning loudly into your pussy before pulling away. Suguru slips your leg off his shoulder before he stands up.

Giving you a show as he slowly slides his hand over his cock he wonders, "You need my cum in your pussy that badly?" His dark pink head peaking through his pale fist. Sliding his hand along his length, his cock drooping underneath its weight. Resting on his fat balls, while his tip hangs well past.

❥ m.list

❥ continuation?

[wakandamama]

If this is TMI, oh well, but y'all.

My sister forced me to get fitted for a bra yesterday cus my mama had breast cancer before and y'all......

I thought DDD was the highest rank... Fuck you mean I'm a damn J cup???

IM A DAMN J CUP

The lingerie store ladies giggled so much when I told them I was DD. That lil white girl brought out that measure tape and said J cup, 38.

I've been wearing size 48 band because I had NO IDEA to go up in the cup. I've been avoiding underwire for a DECADE cus it would cut into me so. Just to get this damn J CUP bra and never felt so lifted in my life, my shoulders have never been this stress free since I first got tiddies in the 5th grade.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

since my breast reduction I've discovered a New Problem while bra shopping

when they give you a reduction you get the added bonus of a Lift™️ so they are Ultra Perky, something I haven't experienced since they first made their puberty debut

the issue is that now they don't... settle(?) into a cup bra very well, not unless that cup sits up against them in a perfect fit, which is certainly an adjustment considering my old boobs would fill and settle into a bra like liquid pffft, and it's extra difficult because I don't think they've quite adjusted into their new shape yet, they're still a little lumpy and awkward

also not having to Scoop is... weird... no boob getting caught in the band here, no boob to Scoop, everything is automatically where it should be

I am confident in my new size now tho, I've gone down from a

to a

don't ask me how my band size went up I dunno how sizing this shit works

I did have some more success with a soft cup bra but the store I went to only had itchy lacy ones so I couldn't really experiment with that, I'll have to try another store with more options

but in the meantime I'll have to keep going underwire free, which isn't all that bad really, I was just looking forward to finally being able to buy some cute pretty bras, but alas I'll have to wait a little longer

[instructionsnotincluded]

Do you have a snippet of Logan getting jealous we could see? If not, could we see Rafe getting jealous/territorial?

Oooooh. Ok—ok, I see you. 😆😉

18 + MDNI | language, mentions of sex, jealousy, self deprecation.

Logan could feel the muscles in her arms working as she shook the cocktail shaker, scanning the area like she normally did, taking a mental count of the amount of people, who had drinks, who didn’t, and who would be approaching soon. She used to scan for attractive guys who might hand over a few more bills if she flirted or smiled at them, but due to the man about thirty feet away, leaning against one of the high top tables, she didn’t have much interest in doing that tonight.

He looked good, dressed in all black, the shiny tuxedo stripe along the side of his pants catching in the light. He wore his rings, the same ones that had left light indentations along her inner thigh the night before, but it was the small gold band he had on his pinky that made her heart palpitate.

“What’s with the smile?”

Logan glanced over at Amy, watching her friend lift a carefully sculpted eyebrow, “Nothing. Just thinking of a funny story.”

“Uh-huh,” Amy rolled her eyes but left it alone, knowing that when Logan latched on to a secret, it would be a cold day in hell before she spilled, “whatever you say, Lo.”

Logan busied herself with pouring the blush colored liquid, handing it off to one of the waiting servers and as she took a few seconds to breathe and wipe down the bar, she did a double take back in Rafe’s direction.

He was talking with a few guys she knew he’d gone to school with, but it was the beautiful blonde approaching that kept her attention. She was tall, nearly as tall as Rafe in the Louboutins she wore and Logan bit her lip hard as she watched the girl slide her hand along Rafe’s bicep, the other two guys he was in mid-conversation with offering a friendly smile and greeting. Clearly they all knew each other and it was then that reality slammed into her harder than anything she’d ever experienced.

Her stomach dropped and heart lurched, her neck heating too quickly as she realized she wasn’t part of that world. And no matter how many times Rafe paid for a nice dinner or fixed her car, she never would be.

The woman, who was currently resting her beautifully manicured hand along Rafe’s shoulder as they all spoke, was gorgeous. Her hair was highlighted flawlessly, curled to perfection down her back in a way Logan was almost sure she hadn’t seen since she watched the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.

Her makeup was expertly applied, the winged eyeliner identical and sharp on both sides, her lipstick the perfect shade of red to match her skin tone. Logan ran her eyes down the woman, taking in the way the black sequined dress both hung off and hugged her figure as if the dress itself was made for her, the muscles in her legs some that would rival those of any runway model.

Logan could see her jewelry from here, could see that it was designer, each piece more than her monthly rent, hell, the scratch and scuff free red-bottoms punctuated her wealth.

She was very well the opposite of everything Logan had to offer. Fading brown box dye covered her strands with roots that were starting to become an issue, eyeliner that never looked like the same person applied it, let alone identical, and costume jewelry that no doubt was turning Rafe’s finger green with each passing second.

“Are you alright?” Logan inhaled sharply, eyes finding Amy as her friend set down the jigger she was using, a heavy frown crossing her forehead, “Lo? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Logan’s response was too quick, too watery, the underwire of the new bra she bought for tonight digging uncomfortably into her ribcage and making it hard to take a deep breath, “I’m fine.”

“The hell you are.” Amy glanced around, as if she were trying to figure out what set her normally unshakable friend off, “Is it Chris? I was afraid he’d be here—”

“No,” Logan shook her head, “no. God no. I haven’t seen him.”

“Then—”

“I um—” Logan ran a hand along the back of her neck, feeling the warm and sweaty skin, “Can I take five? I need a cigarette.”

“I thought you were trying to quit—“

“Amy.” Logan inhaled sharply, “please. Just let me take a fucking minute.”

Amy nodded and Logan almost died of embarrassment right there when she turned around right into a server carrying a tray of empty glasses. Two or three knocked into each other, and despite him trying to catch them, two more plummeted to the ground before shattering into several pieces, everyone in the area, including Rafe and his friends, turning to look at the scene.

Logan closed her eyes tightly. “Fuck.”

[roboticchibitan]

I have a new bra cuz the old ones were so worn out my tits were basically resting on my belly and I refuse to wear bras with underwire in them cuz they give me sores so I obtained (w my gf's help) a new bra and what I wanna know. Is who the FUCK puts side boning in a wire free bra. This bra (38J) was not made for people with side boob and I have AMPLE sideboob it's bent the boning in literally two days and now it's digging into my skin and making me cranky so I am about to go at it with a seam ripper cuz fuck this nonsense

[xoluvx]

Sneak peek for those asking for sub!billie 💖 love u babies!

“Beg.” You snarled digging your hand in her hair pulling on her tousled strands, back flush against your body. Lips parted. Lids fluttering. Chest rising and falling. Breasts spilling out of her slutty lacy bra.

“Please,” she urged weakly closing her eyes and swallowing. You pulled on her hair, lips pressing on her cheek.

“I think you can do better than that,” you sneered before hooking your fingers in the fabric of her bra. She whined and bucked her hips. But your grip remained firm on her hair, holding her against your chest. Ass molding into your lap.

“Pl-please. I’ll do anything.” Her voice desperate, eyes shut. Your fingertips were fire on her flesh. You pulled on the fabric breaking her breasts free. They sat so plump pushed up by the underwire and bunched up fabric.

“Anything?” You whispered in her ear sending shivers down her spine, thighs clenching.

“Mmhm,” she moaned when your hand glided down her thigh.

And that’s it. I’ll try to finish sometime this week 🤭💖

link to completed fic

[mustluvcatz-reloaded]

The following is going to be a combination vent/whine post. I'll put it behind a read more for sanity's sake.

Alrighty, here we go. I've asked on Facebook and in Facebook groups. I've Googled until my eyes crossed (not hard to get them to do that these days, haha), Nobody ever has an answer OR, if they do, it''s not a helpful one. SO - does anyone have any clue/leads/ideas on where an adult with NO children can get help with basic things like new underwear, socks and bras? AND, on top of that, if there is anywhere that will help an adult with NO children with Christmas? It seeme like everything is for those with little ones OR there is help for older adults but not in my area.

I'm so frustrated. I can keep us fed, I can keep a roof over our heads, I can keep the lights on, I can keep the internet on (eh..for the most part, lol), I can keep the cat fed. Laundry, toilet paper, etc., - good to go. But clothing? It's been about 4 years since I've been able to get myself new underwear, socks or a bra. The church up the street used to have free clothing - I don't mind used clothes, I DO mind my old sweatpants falling down because they're stretched out. Holey undies, broken underwires. Bleh. Christmas, I can make the boys snack baskets, it'd just be nice to be able to get at least one thing.

I'm also going to have to try to save a bit of money. My youngest and his fiance finally set a date: Feb 14th, 2025. My baby is getting married!! (They've been engaged for a couple years.)

One last thing: I'm making it next years mission to get my eyes taken care of. I have to, this is ridiculous. I don't know to work it all out but damn, I can't do anything anymore. Read a book? Nope. Work on crafts? Nope. Puzzles? TV? Work on new stuff for TS2? Nope, nope, nope. I've given up walking anywhere if it's sunny because the sun totally blinds me, even with my sunglasses. I can be on my phone and laptop for a bit at a time thanks to high contrast and being able to zoom. I cook and clean mostly by feel.

Any ideas, any leads. Please share them with me! I may not reply but I will definitely read them!