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queenimmadolla · 4 months

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𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

(dad!eddie x mom!reader)

Summary: Eddie has to shower before he can hold his impatient baby. She's having none of it.

a/n: i was attacked by yet ANOTHER cute baby tiktok so here we are with a little bit of grease monkey!eddie and another little drabble. set in the early days of the pennyverse. and yes, i've used this gif before but he's dead so i'm running out of them. mistakes might be fixed later, i dont know :)

“Are these your little fingers?” You asked your baby, tone saturated in honey and affection as you held the chunky palm in question, lips pressed to her pudgy fingertips.

Despite your aversion to it prior to your pregnancy, you’d inevitably developed a baby voice when Penny had come into the world and you couldn’t be blamed. Not when she was all squish, delicate cheeks holding so much chub they bulged, and rolls decorated her little limbs. She was a glutton, always demanding your milk and you couldn’t deny her; those big, gorgeous eyes she’d inherited from her father made it nearly impossible to, even when the wetness welling up in them were completely alligator tears. And those curls.

Regardless of taming them with some water, a brush and maybe some vaseline, they ended up wild, flying about or mussed and matted to her head with sweat because your baby was a little heater when she slept and napped. Just like her daddy.

Your smile widened in size when you heard the sound of keys slotting into place at the front door, the lock mechanism giving away. It tripled when you realized your baby also recognized the sound, head turning to stare at the door as she bobbed in place, thick legs squatting and then popping back up as you held her by her waist with your other hand, assisting her with standing.

The moment Eddie opened the door and came into view she began cooing and squealing in excitement, mouth parting in a wide smile as drool raced down from the corner of her mouth.

You laughed, and so did Eddie as he heard his baby welcoming him home.

“You excited to see me, sweet pea?” He cooed right back, walking over to squat in front of the two of you, eyes raking over you momentarily in appreciation before focusing on the little one in your arms.

She let out another long coo that ended on an airy sigh, pulling her hand from your grasp to reach both of her pudgy ones out to him, practically begging him to hold her as she began wiggling in your arms.

Eddie’s head tilted, lips curling into the most tender smile as he stared down at her with nothing but love swimming in those eyes he’d shared with her.

“Daddy missed you and mommy so much.” He whispered, a hand reaching out, almost close enough to caress her soft cheek but it hesitated before he could touch her. His rough, grease covered finger was a stark contrast to her clean, smooth skin. Clearly, you’d given her a bath before he got home because her mouth and cheeks were usually covered in the food you were starting to offer her (sometimes baby food, but mostly bits of your food because she wouldn’t accept any offerings of mushed up veggies and fruits if there was something else on your plate, hence why your diet had been pretty bland and not at all a result of the tight budget your maternity leave left you on).

The rest of his hands were no better, palms stained, streaks all over his arms as a result of shucking the top half of the monkey suit and rolling up his sleeves at the garage.

There were even a few streaks of grease and maybe oil on his face and neck. Your husband smelled more so of tires than he had the spicy cologne that surrounded you when he’d kissed you goodbye in bed this morning.

And he knew it.

Penny didn’t let that stop her, still eagerly reaching out for him as she grunted to try and provoke him in swooping her up into his embrace.

“As soon as daddy’s clean, okay? I’ll pick you up and my sweet girl can give me all the cuddles she wants.” He promised, hands on his knees before he stood back up, leaning over her to give you a sweaty, greasy oh so sweet and firm press of the lips kiss before he swiveled around and disappeared into the small bathroom as quickly as he could to be out of hearing range when Penny began whimpering at his absence.

You heard the shower start running at the exact moment she began to cry and you offered a sympathetic whine of your own as you adjusted your grip on her, bringing Penny up to your chest, your cheek smushed against her more plump one.

“Shhh…it’s okay, my love. Daddy’s just showering. He’ll be back.” You stood up, hitching Penny on your hip as you walked to the entrance of the small hallway so the bathroom door was visible to her. Eddie’s humming floated out from underneath the crack of it.

Penny was Eddie’s daughter, alright, full of dramatics as her breathing remained heavy, chest rising and falling quickly with the hitches in her breath as a chunky fist gripped onto your blouse, lower lip curling out and wobbling. She didn’t seem satisfied with your explanation but that didn’t worry you. If Penny was awake when Eddie left for work in the morning, she’d start bawling.

The first couple of times she’d started reacting to his departure, he’d ended up full of guilt and late to work. It still wasn’t easy for him, even after you’d finally convinced him she’d have the same reaction whether he left in the morning, afternoon, or evening. Regardless of the time, she was going to be upset that she wouldn’t be able to see her daddy, probably convinced in her little baby mind that he’d abandoned her (he’d nearly quit the shop when you’d phrased it like that) but he’d always come home to her—and you—and that’s what mattered.

You were positive she’d start yelling and shrieking when it came time for you to go back to work, too. She was just a baby, so she was being a baby.

You carried your huffing and puffing daughter back to the living room, placing her down on the carpet in front of some toys she had been playing with earlier in the day. Maybe they’d distract her.

Wrong.

She sat on the carpet, chunky legs strewn out for just a few seconds before she was moving forward onto her belly and propping herself up. Then she was off, crawling as fast as she could towards the hallway while breathing heavily with exhilaration. You trailed after her, amused at how stubborn she was when she stopped directly in front of the bathroom door, propping herself up on her bottom.

You watched Penny reach out with shaky palms, pressing them gently against the door. It looked like they were feeling around it before she began slapping them against it as hard as she could as she yelled her baby babble, no doubt demanding her daddy open the door, pick her up and love her right now.

Giggles were muffled into your palm, as she kept up with it.

Eventually, maybe when she realized that wasn’t working, Penny leaned over, wiggling around until she was on her tummy and the side of her head was resting on the carpet. You realized she was trying to look under the door for him and your heart clenched, hand flying over your chest as if you could grasp the organ.

You expected her to sit back up and go back to smacking the door but she remained there, a stubby finger absentmindedly trailing through the carpet as she stared through the thin crack, warm bathroom light and Eddie’s voice flooding out from underneath to comfort her as she waited.

Picking her up had crossed your mind, and so did the idea of how loudly she’d probably start screaming and crying if you did.

The two of you didn’t have to wait for long, the shower shut off and you could hear the sounds of the shower curtain rings scraping against the rod as Eddie pulled them back.

Panic briefly filled your chest as you realized Eddie probably wasn’t expecting his baby to be lying on the floor directly outside of the bathroom—he’d step on her, so you called out, “Heads up, Eddie, you’ve got a visitor.”

You didn’t hear a response, but a few moments later, the door opened to reveal your husband. Water droplets slipped down his neck and chest. He had one towel—that had definitely seen better days—wrapped around his waist and another (yours) he was using to scrunch up his sopping wet curls to dry them.

Eddie had heard you, shooting you a smirk before he addressed the baby beaming up at him, “Shower’s free if you wanna hop in, stinky.”

Penny had no idea what he was saying, it didn’t matter anyways because he said it in the same voice he used when he gave her kisses and held her to his chest so she was reaching up for him and he finally reached down—with clean hands—grasping her sides before she was hoisted into his arms. Penny wasted no time, mouth parting wide to mouth aggressively at his face and chin while she shook her head and wiggled about.

She was giving him kisses.

Or trying to eat him, she had little bursts of energy where she’d do that—attack you out of nowhere while you held her causing the both of you to break out laughing.

Eddie let her get it all out, and when she cooed, resting her cheek on his shoulder, he retaliated. Her cheeks and little neck rolls were smattered in his smacking kisses as she squealed and shrieked and wiggled but there was no escaping her daddy’s clutches now that she was finally in them.

When every inch of her available to him had been kissed, he turned towards you and you suddenly found yourself victim to two sets of identical crinkly brown eyes. A deep chuckle rumbled from Eddie as he padded over to where you stood, mischievous smirk making another appearance.

“Mommy’s turn.”

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shaisuki · 2 months

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geto suguru splurging the large amount of donations for your kimonos. how nasty and ungrateful of him for the donors but it's well spent and there's no guilt about considering they are monkeys who have money and it's better to use it for you.

he loves how fitted the kimonos are adorning to your plush body. it's like they are second skin to you from how comfortable it was. always the best for you. commissioning artisans whose crafts are honed for a long time with hands that are made for creating that piece of clothing. sewing intricate patters with embroidery attached with stories to suit your style and his tastes. it takes months to complete but it only takes for a second for him to rip it from your body.

not even being able to feel an ounce of guilt despite the time it took to create and the pout in your face for wasting such piece of art. he only shushes you with a kiss. saying that he can commission again from those artisans to create you new ones.

cause no matter how expensive you wear, it's nothing how much you look better naked for him. your delectable body for him to taste while he slowly removes his gojo-kesa.

“it's not a waste nor to be given any attention of. you look better naked, my love.” he would assure you. dipping for a kiss. his large hands caressing your supple body. pinching and kneading the exposed flesh while he spreads your chunky legs and only to reveal what he's been dying to taste. your fat cunt, slick and warm for him to lick and drill his cock in between them.

money's not a problem for him. really. not when there's a lot of monkeys with money at his disposal. they're useless and a waste of space and reek of filth so what's better is he's putting them for a use while he spoils you rotten.

#꩜ ⋮ shai's thirst/drabbles⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #plus size reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto x chubby reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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starrdevereauxx · 2 months

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I said last time would be the last time.

Brandon broke up with me 6 months ago. I’ve been a wreck for weeks on end. I promised myself to get over it, but it’s been such a hard thing to process. We would always fight, make up, make love and act like nothing ever happened. He was gone this time. This was the longest we ever been apart.

I try to find things to do to pass the time, but nothing ever seems to take my mind off him. I still smell him, breathe him, and feel him through my body. Our mutual friends always give messages about him, but I’ve been ignoring them lately. My heart can’t take listening to his name, let alone hearing of any accomplishments.

I need to run my errands today, but like everyday I become sad running them alone. We did everything together, after 6 years I can’t believe that we don’t do this anymore.

Heading to the grocery store I become sad with my list of groceries for one instead of two. I hop in my car and turn on “our” playlist. Hoping I can borrow a feeling from any song that plays. Another slow song begins to play and I’m seeing myself in the mirror. Envisioning him touching me, wishing my hands were his. Rubbing the side of my face, choking me ever so lightly. I literally just felt my pussy drip at this light.

“Get it together Dev” I say trying to convince myself that I’m over him. Knowing damn well I’m not. I can feel him inside my pussy when I think about him. The feeling intensifies with every breath I take.

I gather myself to go inside of the store, with my lonely list of single items. Looking at the list I just remember every single meal I ever made for him. Pouring my heart into each meal, now I can only make food for myself. I sob gathering myself for this lonely trip.

I walk through the store, gathering each item reluctantly. Wishing we were laughing together, talking about what we gonna pretend to watch on Netflix when we got back home. Saying pretend because it we wouldn’t make it pass the opening credits without his chocolate snicker veined dick engorged in my throat. He would be gagging me before we knew the name of the movie.

After looking at my cart, I figured I deserved a treat. I tried to maintain a healthy cart since I’m single, I need to stay in shape. The most physical activity I get is the gym these days, so I had to maintain some resemblance of care in my food intake. But with all the crying that I’ve been doing, today I deserve a treat. I decided to head back to the ice cream isle and help myself to something to lift my spirits.

As I walk to the back of the store with my headphones on, I’m letting Chris Brown sing me to a happy place. I almost begin to get a spring in my step as he’s talking about fucking someone back to sleep.

I make it to the ice cream section and I immediately look for Ben & Jerry’s tasty ass. I see it, straight ahead “Chunky Monkey”. I move my cart out of the way to reach for it. As I get ready to reach for the pint, I feel some thing grab me, startled I think I’m in trouble for climbing inside the refrigerator. Moving my headphones so I can hear, a deep, smoldering voice says

“that’s still your favorite ice cream I see, even though I also remember that your monkey was the only chunky I ever wanted”.

I’m fucking stuck. There’s only one voice I know that sounds like that, and my pussy dripping is letting me know exactly who it is.

“Brandon, oh wow. It’s crazy seeing you here. How are you?” I gulp nervously.

“You look good Dev, time has been good to you. But then again when has it not?” Brandon says as he looks at me like he’s about to take my throat from me right here in this store.

As I prepare to answer him, someone loudly over talks me.

“Babe, BABE.. do you want movie popcorn or kettle corn?” I turn to see a bubbly perky breasted young lady yelling to her significant other about popcorn. I turned back around to see if I see him, just for my heart to sink as I realize that there’s nobody here but me and Brandon here. She’s talking to him. Oh my God, he has a girlfriend.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, I was just trying to get a hold of my fiancé, I didn’t mean to bump you, my apologies” she smiles.

“Kettle Corn baby, thank you” he replies.

She skips off to honor his request. I stand there putting my broken heart back in my chest, not making it obvious that I’m literally breaking apart inside. FIANCÉ!?!? What in the fuck is this? After 6 years together, he never asked me to marry him. I’m even more convinced that it was never going to be me.

“Well congratulations to you and your fiancé, you deserve happiness. Be well Brandon.” I say tearfully as I run off, forgetting my ice cream. At this point I just want to disappear.

I get to the register, pay for my items and hurry to my car.

It was a long walk to my car. I always parked far from stores because I loved to get my steps in. Every step counts to me. So I had enough time to cry myself to the car and be over it by the time I started my car.

I open my trunk and back seat to place my purse down as I organize my groceries in the back, just incase if I needed room for a surprise bullseye store trip. I think after that encounter, I deserve some retail therapy now.

As I near the finish of my organization, I feel someone tap me from behind and say “I thought we discussed you parking way the hell back here. Nobody can see you back here.” Brandon says with what looks like chunky monkey ice cream in his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing back here? Where’s your fiancé? Why are you here? I-“ he stops me mid sentence, placing the ice cream in my hand.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you about Keisha. You didn’t deserve to find out like this” he says looking at me sincerely.

“You don’t owe me anything, we are over. It’s your life. We have both clearly moved on.” I say proudly, pretending that I don’t feel like bending over right now and letting him turn me into a Twinkie.

He stares at me in my eyes with a look I haven’t seen in so long, but I remember well. I break contact and go back to packing my car so I can leave this awkward encounter.

He grabs my arm forcefully, making me drop my car keys in the backseat. Turning me towards him, forcing me to look at him. I begin to tear away in anger because I’m loosing control to my body.

“Get the fuck off me Brandon, what in the hell is your problem. Let me the fuck go.”

I try to break free from his grip. I feel his dick literally growing with anticipation the more I fight.

He stops me and looks me in my eyes. He’s subdued me with his piercing glare. He presses up against me, placing his hands on my body. One softly but firmly on my neck and the other on my left breast, lightly massaging it and grazing the nipple ever so softly. My breathing becomes shallow and scattered. What is he doing? Why is he doing this? Isn’t his fiancé near by or in the car wondering where he is. I’m sure she’s looking for him. In this moment, I don’t think either one of us cares. My pussy is wet and gushing between my panties that I know is drenched at this point.

“I know you feel what I feel for you. I haven’t had a day go by that I haven’t thought about you Dev. We broke up, but never really let go. If you tell me to let you go right now, I’ll stop and walk away forever. You want me to stop?” He says while looking me in my dough eyes. I have no voice to even reply. My red lips are pursed and parted from the small breaths I continue to take. I shake my head no while staring him completely in his eyes.

He leans onto me, kissing me softly, hand still wrapped around my neck. He kisses my lips softly and becomes more aggressive every time he touches his lips to mine. He parts my lips to slide his tongue inside my mouth, I close my mouth to proceed to suck his tongue. Feeling now that his dick is rock hard.

“Show me that you still love me” he says as I’m already unbuckling his jeans. I drop to my knees and open my mouth. Giving him my entire throat to use as he pleases. Forcing my head on and off his dick, using my mouth as his personal pocket pussy. Grabbing both sides of my face, moaning loudly in this parking structure like we are outside alone. He literally has no fear of being caught in this moment. Brandon’s dick is so deep down my throat that he’s breathing for the both of us.

I feel his precum slip pass my lips. He stops. He pulls me off my knees and stands me up, just to pull down my leggings, revealing my cummed in panties. He begins to take his dick to rub my clit while I stand there defenseless.

Brandon forcefully turns me around, placing me in position. I automatically arch the posture of my back, taking my hands to spread my giant ass to show my wet dripping pussy that’s salivating for his erection to be inside me.

“Such a good girl, still obedient like I remember. Tell me what you want” he orders me.

“Fuck me hard please. Take my pussy from me” I say patiently waiting for him to beat my pussy like an Undertaker versus Mankind cage match.

He forces his dick inside my tight wet pussy, moaning hard as he enters. I grip him hard with my pussy as he’s thrusting aggressively in and out of me.

He’s pulsating inside of me as he’s moving. I’m feeling every inch of him as he’s continuing to grow inside of me. Just moving back and forth, harder and harder. I’m moaning so loud and hard, tears in my eyes from how good it feels to have his dick inside me. Holding my breasts as he’s making me take his dick roughly outside where everyone can see.

“Oh my God Dev, you’re gonna make me cum. I’m about to cum. Do you want it in your favorite place?” He says as I scream out “Yes” in reply.

I fall to my knees like a sinner who needs prayer, open my mouth to the heavens and wait for him to bless me. He releases an outpouring of his creaminess all over my face and mouth, as I devour every drop that hits my throat.

He moans as he shakes out every drop til he’s empty. I swallow the rest of him and what’s left of my pride as he kisses me in completion. My pants still around my ankles, he grips my ass holding me in place as he continues to kiss me softly.

I buckle his pants as he helps me with mine. I brush my hand across his face and we embrace each other knowing that he has to go.

“Goodbye Brandon.” I kiss him on the cheek. He walks away silently. Staring back a few times before he’s out of my view.

I said last time would be the last time.

Happy Monday 💋

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zepskies · 1 year

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Break Me Down - Part 7

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: I think a lot of you have been waiting on this one…and stick around after the end for something special!

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Can’t Wait” by Foreigner (if you listen to it, you’ll see why).

Word Count: 5,000 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut and feels. That is all.

Part 7: Until Midnight

Two weeks later, you could admit that Ben was frustrating you in a different way than usual.

You didn’t want to like him, or be indebted to him. But he was different lately whenever the two of you were alone. Especially at night, when the two of you often met in the kitchen.

It was the one time where he truly seemed to relax, without his men around him. Without the Soldier Boy persona he wore like a fine tailored suit.

One night, the two of you were once again sitting together in the kitchen after a marathon of all three Hangover movies. Now you each had a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, of which you’d convinced him to try the “Chunky Monkey” so you could have your “Half Baked” brownie pieces and cookie dough to yourself.

Ben had all but inhaled his, while you were still chipping away at half the pint.

“You still hate me?” he asked.

You paused in delving into a thick piece of brownie to look up at his bearded face, which was deceptively nonchalant. If he was asking you that, then he really did want to know.

Yet it was a harder question to answer than you would’ve thought a couple of weeks ago. You decided to level him with the truth this time.

“Like I said before, I don’t have a personal vendetta against you or anything,” you admitted.

Ben rose a brow at you. “But you hate me.”

You sighed. He could be so childish sometimes.

“Have you forgotten that you’re still holding me against my will?” you pointed out. “Presumably until my team can find me, and you can pick them off one by one.”

“You fuckers came at me first,” he countered. “And I haven’t touched you. Hell, I saved you.”

Yes, he had. You couldn’t ignore that fact.

But there were other reasons that he needed to be put in check.

“You’ve killed a lot of fucking people, Ben,” you said. “I can’t imagine how many of them didn’t deserve it. And before you start, collateral damage is not an excuse. It’s murder. You haven’t seemed to care about that, or much of anyone other than yourself and your own amusement.”

There. Cards on the table.

Ben set down his ice cream on the counter with enough force to rattle his spoon. He crossed his arms at you.

“You’re pretty fucking high and mighty for someone who probably spent the last few years up Vought’s shithole,” he pointed out, shaking his head. “Doing their dirty work. Whatever I did back then, it didn’t end with me. You were part of it too.”

You frowned in annoyance. A hot retort was poised on your tongue.

Whatever he did back then? He’d crashed a skyscraper and killed nineteen people last year! He’d taken out nearly the entire cast of Payback, his old team. However justified he felt about the latter, taking a life was taking a goddamn life!

You wanted to say all that and more…but you paused.

Because he wasn’t exactly wrong, about you at least. You knew you’d done your fair share of shit. And you had taken people out, when you’d needed to.

For self-defense, to stop a criminal, to protect someone…and yes, sometimes, you’d been part of the cleanup crew. Disposing bodies and extracting supes from “unfortunate situations.”

Those times made you feel less than human for being a part of it. And it was the main reason why you’d gotten the courage to quit Vought and join Supe Affairs in the first place…

You frowned at the trail of your thoughts, but his voice soon jolted you out of them.

“Ain’t this a bitch,” said Ben. “If you could, you’d want me dead. Even though I saved you.”

Your lips pursed. “Dead is a strong word.”

His angry gaze on you was unrelenting.

“Asleep is as good as dead for me.”

You stared back at him in resignation. Fair enough.

You couldn’t refute that, but you also didn’t know what he wanted from you. He was implying that he wanted you not to hate him, but he wasn’t willing to let you go either.

You got up to put your spoon in the sink, mostly so you wouldn’t have to look at him anymore.

Ben rose from his seat. You felt him approach from behind. You still tensed up as his arm reached around your form to drop in his own spoon. His arm withdrew, but he stood just behind you, at your side. His hand curled around the edge of the counter.

Letting out a discreet, steadying breath, you turned towards him and met his assessing gaze…but you soon looked away.

It was too much. He was too much. Even his musky cologne was invading your senses, threatening to cloud your judgment.

Before you could back away, Ben grasped your chin, tilting your face up to him so you couldn’t hide. He heard your pulse picking up with his sensitive ears.

“Well, well. Your heart’s just racing away, baby doll,” he said.

He smirked at the blush rising in your cheeks, despite your defiant gaze. You might’ve said you wanted to put him to sleep, but you definitely didn’t seem to hate him.

“You know, that offer’s still on the table,” he said. Your brow quirked, and you crossed your arms.

“What offer?”

Ben’s hand slid along to frame your jawline, his thumb sweeping across your reddened cheek.

“I can help you end that little dry spell of yours,” he drawled. “Calm that pretty head and have you sleeping soundly tonight.”

Oh, he’d help you fucking sleep, he thought.

He’d help you not be able to sit on that perfect ass for a week. He’d gladly work you up with fingers, lips, and tongue until you threatened to fucking drown him. Until you were writhing at his touch and singing just for him. Until you begged him to fuck you.

But you just rolled your eyes at his offer with a huff. Maybe you didn’t believe he was serious. Oh, but he fucking was.

Overall, you were a pain in his ass. And you had been from the beginning.

You had a dangerously smart mouth for a woman. Along with a stubborn streak to rival his, and a strangely self-righteous attitude for someone who’d mucked through the bowels of Vought and played a part in that world, just like him. You weren’t so fucking innocent either.

But he could also see that you were trying to be different. You had a conscience. A family and friends and a lot of other things that Ben didn’t have anymore. And maybe never had to begin with…

You claimed to want to bring him down, but you cooked for him, hung out with him, and he could start to believe that you actually enjoyed his company, rather than pretended for self-preservation’s sake.

You were a fucking conundrum that he couldn’t totally figure out. And all the while, you didn’t seem to realize how much of a temptation you were.

It didn’t matter if it was that sexy red dress at the club or these plain-ass jeans you were wearing. His hands itched to mold to your curves, squeeze and tease and familiarize himself until he could find out how glorious it would be to damn near suffocate between your thighs.

Your pretty blush, however, was spreading down your neck. Ben wondered how far he could make it go as he glanced down your V-neck top. His smile edged into a grin.

“I’ll admit, maybe I haven’t been the best host,” he said, injecting some charm. “You gotta be bored as all hell by now.”

You swallowed as his hand moved down the side of your neck. His fingers slid into your hair, but he kept the smooth pad of his thumb brushing across your cheek. You didn’t want to admit that it felt nice—and electrifying at the same time.

His touch was raising goosebumps down the back of your neck, tingling down your spine.

“You might be projecting,” you managed to quip. “Is the conveyor belt of prostitutes and drugs finally losing its appeal?”

You studied his face, his smirk, and you had a feeling you had deduced correctly: he was bored too. But now you knew why he didn’t want you to hate him.

He just wanted to fuck you.

That thought wasn’t so surprising. It seemed this man could jump into bed with just about anything with a pulse. But it still made a tendril of heat lick up your spine and your face flush.

You should’ve just pushed him away already…but his nearness was mucking up your good sense.

The truth was, you weren’t afraid of him. Not anymore. And maybe you didn’t hate him.

Maybe…

“Well, what’s it gonna be?” he asked you.

Your lips parted, halting on a reply.

Ben smirked. His hand tightened in your hair, and he finally began to lean down.

But your breath hitched. You instinctively pressed your hands against his chest before he could kiss you, a firm push.

“Ben,” you uttered.

He stopped, looking down at you with knitted brows. He just thought you were being stubborn now, a fucking tease even…

Until he saw the frisson of fear in your eyes.

He quirked a resigned smile. Stroking your cheek one last time, he let you go.

“All right,” he said. “Maybe next time.”

Your heart was hammering like a Phil Collins drum solo inside your chest as you made your way back to your room.

What the hell, what the hell.

He’d teased and flirted with you before, but not like this. It wasn’t totally obnoxious or disgusting, like he’d genuinely been trying to persuade you. He’d even looked disappointed when you stopped him. And he’d allowed you to stop him.

(And you resisted a shudder at the contrasting memory of Antonio.)

When you were back in your room, you released a relieved sigh. Your hands trembled on the doorknob.

But it wasn’t fear that’d made you nervous with Ben. Not exactly. It was the insane part of you that actually wanted to take him up on his offer.

Fuck, you thought, raising a palm to your still-warm forehead. I really must be crazy. Or sick. Sick in the head.

Or it had been a stupidly long time since you’d gotten laid.

“Seriously, tell me,” he’d said once, still with a deceptively light grip on your chin. The pad of his thumb brushed your full lower lip, making your breath hitch. He glanced down at your mouth, then back into your eyes.

“How fucking long’s it been since that pretty pussy’s been touched? ‘Cause in my opinion, that’s a damn shame.”

The memory caused a delicate tingle in your lower belly, pulsing between your legs. You took in a deep, calming breath through your nose.

That’s it, you thought. I’m done with this.

So you tried for a cold shower first. For the record, you locked the bathroom door before you undressed and hopped into the shower. As the water beat against your back and you dutifully lathered soap on your skin, you couldn’t help imagining his heavy hands running over your body.

Fuck. You frowned and quickly dragged yourself out of the shower.

For a few minutes, you were too antsy to get dressed. You paced your small room wearing only a towel, not even thinking really. Just frustrated beyond belief (sexually or otherwise). The truth was, you needed something, or you were going to implode.

With a heavy sigh, you laid in bed on your side, still wrapped in your towel. You wrapped your hair up in a loose bun and closed your eyes, just taking a few moments to breathe evenly.

Your knees were folded up, almost to your chest. But you relaxed and let your thighs fall open. With a tentative hand, you decided to slide up between your thighs, just teasing the seam of your pussy.

Then with a sigh, you delved between your folds and teased yourself, to start with. Warmth grew in your lower belly, and you sighed louder when you slid a finger inside. You were wet already just with this, and your sighs turned to shallow breaths, and even a moan once heat flooded through your core, and you were getting close…

But a knock at the door just had to startle you.

“Hey, sweetheart. You there?”

Your eyes widened with a gasp, and you moved your hand back to your thigh. Oh shit.

It was Ben. Of course it was fucking Ben.

“Ah, w-wait a minute,” you replied. You scrambled out of bed to lock the door before he tried to come in.

But just your luck, he cracked it open just as you got there. You were met with his handsome face.

His brows rose, his lips then curving when he looked down at you. Or more specifically, you clad in only a towel. You tightened it up on reflex, with a hand on the twisted part at your chest.

“Excuse me,” you said in annoyance. “I don’t remember inviting you in.”

His mouth twitched at a deeper grin.

“It’s nothing major. I just had to ask you something,�� he said, with an air of nonchalance that only made you suspicious.

Your lips pressed together as you rose an expectant brow.

“Okay, ask,” you said.

Ben reached for your hand, the one holding your towel together.

“Can I see this hand?”

You yelped and secured the towel with your other hand while he examined the one he held.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, with real irritation now. Ben ignored you in favor of staring at your hand, specifically the pads of your fingers. Then his gaze cut to you slyly.

He held your middle and index finger up to his nose, with an obscene inhale.

Your eyes grew wide as your heart stuttered. He did not just…

And Ben smirked.

“I think you’re the one with the fucking problem,” he said knowingly. He took a step forward, but you stepped back. Unfortunately, that just brought your back against the doorframe. Your mouth went dry when you again looked up at him.

“I don’t know what—”

He stopped you before you could deny it further.

“You think I couldn’t fucking hear you?” he asked.

You bit your lip. Oh God.

His brows ran even higher, his smirk ever deeper. His lust-ridden eyes raked over you, but they soon met yours again. His thumb ran down the inside of your wrist, over your quickening pulse point.

“I know you’re frustrated. It’s been a while, huh?” he said. “Believe me, I know the fucking feeling. But I can take care of that little problem for you. Take care of you.”

You took in a tremulous breath. His heady voice was a curse, reverberating through your chest and running straight down between your legs, warm and pulsing. He raised your chin to make you look up at him.

“You don’t have to like me for that, do you?” he asked.

It was as honest an offer as you were ever going to get. You had to give it to him though, in this, he was a good goddamn actor. He seemed to have figured out exactly what it would take to soften your resolve.

In fact, he fucking crumbled it.

You released a shuddering breath, and tugged him into your room by his shirt. With a hand behind his neck, you pulled him down into your hungry lips.

That kiss was warm and heady, fueled with a passion that only waiting and wanting could create.

Ben took the invitation to heart, grabbing your hips and already bunching the fabric of your towel. It was thin, and he felt the soft give of your curves underneath. He hoisted you up into his arms.

While a normal man might’ve struggled, you knew it was effortless for him. You willingly wrapped your legs around his waist and held his face with both hands. You broke the kiss for a second so you could brush his hair back and made sure he looked into your eyes this time.

“I don’t hate you,” you told him between panting breaths. “I should, but I don’t.”

And that was the God’s honest truth.

Ben paused at that. He roamed your face, maybe judging if he believed you or not.

Then, his mouth curved, and with one hand he reached back to slam your bedroom door shut. It shook on its hinges, but he didn’t wait for it to settle as he walked you to the bed and laid you there beneath him. Your hair fell out of its messy bun and fanned out on the pillow.

Ben gazed down at you, enjoying the sight of you all laid out for him. You were already breathing shallowly, your beautiful eyes bright with anticipation and wild desire. They were honest, and he liked that he finally knew what you were thinking.

He claimed a tight grip on your smooth thighs, parting them so he could find his way in between. He moved his way up to claim your lips next. They were plush and pliant under his.

You sighed against his mouth, diving a hand into his soft hair and running a hand down to the buttons of his shirt. He stopped you and all but tore it off himself.

You blinked in surprise, and then giggled a little at his impatience. But it allowed you to explore the new expanse of golden tan skin, down his neck, over his firm chest and muscular arms.

He relished in it for a moment—your touch. Your hands were soft and warm, and you looked to be genuinely enjoying yourself.

He smirked at that, but he grabbed your wrists before they could venture too much farther than the trail of hair leading below his belt. He trapped them against the bed on either side of your head, and you raised your brows at him with an annoyed little frown. Ben had to chuckle.

“Did I say you could touch me yet?” he said. You met him with a challenging tilt of your chin.

“Who says you get to make all the rules?” you asked. Your calf slid up between his legs, brushing insistently against his already rock-hard length. Ben let out something between a grunt and a moan, and didn’t realize that his grip on your arms was starting to get more than bruising.

You winced, with a pained sound caught in your throat. “Ben, you’re gonna break me.”

He amended his grip immediately, frowning at himself. He knew how to control his goddamn strength, even in moments like this (usually). Maybe he was too fucking excited to finally have you beneath him.

But he soothed his thumbs over your wrists and heeded the tug of your hands down to your waiting kiss. He braced an arm above your head and all but devoured you, slipping his tongue past your lips.

He kissed you like a man starving. Like you’d never been kissed in your life, and it was all you could to keep up with his demands.

Eventually he burned a wet trail from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck. He inhaled your floral soap, a scent that had been driving him crazy for days.

He sucked hard behind your ear, and you gasped, thought you were going to see stars.

Unconsciously you gripped at his hair, tugging more harshly than you meant to. But by the pleased sound he made against your skin, you figured he didn’t mind.

Ben soothed a heavy hand up your side and reached between you to untie your flimsy towel. And you let out a slightly shaky breath when he took in your fully naked form for the first time.

“Hmm,” his lips slipped into a grin. “I knew it. Fucking beautiful.”

You couldn’t help but blush, but you didn’t quite know what to say. Ben noticed; it wasn’t too often that he had you speechless.

Amused, he thumbed at your lower lip once more, making you smile almost shyly. (He kind of liked that too.)

And he finally touched you, brushing a hand between the valley of your breasts before palming at one of them. You sighed in appreciation, then moaned as his lips found the other one, his tongue swirling languidly around your nipple.

You arched into his touch, gripped into every groove and dip of muscle in his arms, especially when his fingers rolled and pinched just hard enough on the other nipple.

Your thighs pressed together between the cage of his legs, trying to find friction.

Ben noticed. He let one hand sooth down your belly, half pinning you down as he continued his relentless exploration. You wanted to touch him too, but right now he wasn’t letting up. Everywhere he touched and kissed and sucked set your skin on fire, and enhanced the flood between your legs.

“Ben,” you panted into his ear. If you weren’t allowed to find out what he liked yet (though you had several ideas), then you wanted him to touch you.

“Be fucking patient,” he said with a chuckle. “I know what the fuck I’m doing.”

You had no doubt of that. But you were becoming impatient.

“Yeah? Am I gonna be as old as you before we get to it?” you teased. Ben glanced up at you, but seeing your smirk, his own grew.

“All right you little shit,” he muttered. He moved up to claim your smart-ass lips, swallowing your giggle as he took a firm grip of your hair.

His other hand, meanwhile, slid up the back of your thigh to grip a nice handful of your ass. He ground his clothed dick into your core and made you both moan.

He slipped a hand up the inside of your thigh and brushed between your legs, making you quiver with anticipation.

He smiled and glanced down.

“Finally, something I recognize in this century,” he remarked. “A nice bush.”

Your brows raised high, both in surprise and slight embarrassment. No one had ever given you that particular compliment before. But you did pride yourself on being neatly trimmed.

“What?” you still uttered.

“Women are so damn waxed nowadays. Feels like I’m fucking a mannequin,” he said.

“Oh, yeah.” You giggled as something occurred to you. “I’m assuming you encountered some bare landing strips on your tour of Brazil.”

He snorted in response. “One girl actually tried to get me on the waxing table. Something about a ‘manzilian.’”

You couldn’t help it. You pictured how confused he must’ve been at that particular offer. How damn near offended (and possibly intrigued).

And you laughed genuinely so hard that you covered your eyes as they teared up.

It made Ben smirk on reflex, feeling pleased that he achieved that kind of reaction out of you.

“You tapped out on that one, huh?” you asked, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.

Ben shrugged. “Wasn’t so bad, actually.”

At that, you laughed even harder. Oh, how you wished you could’ve seen that.

Ben quirked an amused brow at you.

“You laughin’ at me, sweetheart?” he warned. He reached between your legs while you were distracted, and thick fingers slipped between your wet folds. You yelped in surprise, but then moaned in pleasure as his thumb found your already sensitive clit.

But he, in fact, knew how to take care of you. His thick digits explored your channel and rubbed persistently against that spongey part near the back, slipping in and out with ease, and circling deliberately around your clit until your inner walls squeezed around his hand.

All the while, you held on tight to his shoulders and shuddered at the warmth cresting deep inside you.

“That’s it, baby,” he said, with a clenching hand in your hair. “Squeeze the shit out of me. Come all over my fucking hand, and then I’ll consider filling you up to the fucking brim.”

With a long and keening moan, you came apart, hot and wet over his fingers.

“Shit. That’s a good girl,” he praised with a nod. He stroked inside you a couple more times before he withdrew his glistening hand.

You held onto his other one as you panted for breath. “Fuck.”

“Fucking right,” he said smugly.

You rolled your eyes, but you still smiled as you sat up and went for his belt. You were surprised he hadn’t fully undressed himself sooner, but he sat up and let you do it.

The two of you knelt on the bed as the belt came free, followed by his pants and underwear and socks (he’d long ago kicked off the shoes). His smug smirk came back now that he was in his full glory, so to speak.

Another blush heated your face. You’d seen him like this once before, but there had been…a lot going on that time.

This time you had him all to yourself. Your canvas to explore. You started with kisses down his neck, like he’d done to you, biting and sucking though you couldn’t leave any marks on his skin.

Not fair, you thought in disappointment, but at least you were eliciting some pleased and guttural sounds the further down you went. And then you took his hard, velvety cock in your hands.

He was big enough that you were maybe a little concerned, but not enough to deter you as you teased him with your soft hands, then squeezed and caressed experimentally. He gripped your hips tight.

“Now who’s taking a fucking eternity,” he gritted out. He encouraged you to lie back and raised your hips. You found purchase on his shoulders as your eyes met with his, and after a beat, you smiled and gave a short nod.

Ben aligned himself at your entrance and, slowly as he could manage, pushed inside you. You cried out as he stretched you, filled you deep and bottoming out with mangled moans from both of you.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You feel so fucking good already.”

You managed to smile and run a hand down his chest. “Uh, you didn’t ask, but I am on birth control.”

His brows furrowed in realization. “What, the fucking pill?”

His team certainly hadn’t supplied you with that for the past month.

You shook your head. “No. An IUD. It’s fine.”

You couldn’t believe you two were having this conversation when he was literally inside you already.

“What? Thought those died out in the 70s,” he said.

“Well, they came back,” you said impatiently. “Just fuck me, Ben!”

Not one to be told twice, Ben continued by slowly pulling out of you, nearly the entire length of his cock, before pushing back in. It was torturous for him, but he knew you needed the time to adjust. By the third stroke, however, he snapped back into you more forcefully.

It elicited a gasp and pleased shudder out of you. Grinning, he picked up the pace from there and pounded into you at a relentless clip. You held onto his arms for dear life, your nails clawing fruitlessly into his skin. You grabbed his hand when he reached a particularly good angle, moaning his name.

“That’s right, crooner. Soon enough I’ll have you singing my fucking name,” he growled. “Knew I was gonna have you just like this, fucking you raw.”

You moaned in response. His words, his voice, his touch, it was all breaking you down and taking you apart, piece by piece.

Meanwhile, your voice only spurred him on. Letting go of your hand, his reached for your cheek. Then it slid down to your neck.

“You got a safe word, baby girl?” he asked, closing a firm, but playful hand around your throat.

But before he could put much pressure, your eyes flew open. Not in arousal, but in panic. Your hands flew to grasp at his wrist.

“Don’t! Please, don’t.”

Ben looked down at you, surprised enough to pause in all his movements. He released his hand.

He’d very rarely seen wide-eyed panic in your eyes and in your voice. And you’d never said please.

But then, even more strange, you got embarrassed.

You looked away from him as you caught your breath. Ben called to you uncertainly, perhaps for the first time using your actual name.

You took in a deep breath and sat up. But instead of pushing him away, like he half-expected, you moved so that you were both on your knees and you were straddling his lap.

Using his shoulders as leverage, you resumed the pace of dipping his still hard cock inside you, making you both groan in relief.

Ben helped you, gripping your hips to bounce you on top of him.

Soon enough, he grunted as that familiar tightening and heat of pleasure started to make his upward thrusts wild. He knew he was close…

And he snaked a hand between you to roll over your clit, making sure you were going to get there with him.

A deep tremble went through your lower belly, tightening your inner walls around him impossibly tight as you started to come. Then he followed, finally spilling up and into you.

His arms came around your waist like steel bands as you relaxed on top of him, panting for breath and holding onto his shoulders for dear life.

You gazed down into his eyes, and then his growing, triumphant smirk. It triggered your own wry smile.

And you had to wonder, What the hell did I just do?

AN: Was it as good for you as it was for me? 😏

But ok, seriously, I'm a bit self-conscious when it comes to writing smut, so I genuinely hope you enjoyed the ride lol.

(@waynes-multiverse You probably won't see this for a while, but our convo about the Brazilian wax made it into this chapter. 🤣)

Special Feature:

Check out this lovely moodboard created by @chernayawidow — specifically for this story!

I am obsessed:

She also takes requests, so just message her!

Next time:

You called his name again and took his face with both hands.

“Wherever you are in your mind right now, you’re here with me. Stay with me!” you raised your voice. His skin was getting really hot.

You gasped and had to let go of him when it threatened to burn you. His chest started to glow and hum. Your eyes widened, and finally, so did his.

Keep Reading: PART 8

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#until midnight #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy fic #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 7 #zepskies writes

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btsgotjams27 · 1 year

Text

the nanny diaries ~ myg

it’s your first day at your new job, and you’re nervous about leaving your one-year-old daughter with your housemate, but he assures you, you have nothing to worry about.

✨ title: the nanny diaries (drabble series) | the i-had-no-choice nanny ✨ pairing: yoongi x single mom!reader ✨ word count: 1.4k |✨ genre: fluff, cute / housemates!au |✨ rating: pg ✨ warnings: cute and wild 1yo, yoongi calls her baby girl (as a term of endearment) ✨ a/n: happy birthday my yoongiiii <3 the little human in this story is based on my chunky, monkey niece, who i love so much. enjoy my friends!

[ DRABBLES MASTERLIST ] | ✨ next ~ the way you are

You never expected to be moving in with Min Yoongi, but you had no other choice. The two of you have been neighbors for the last five years. He'd seen you go through it all: from meeting the guy who was bad news to watching him move in, knock you up and then leave. He warned you plenty of times, but like the stubborn woman you are, you didn't listen.

“Yoongi, are you sure you can watch her today? I can call out of work if you can’t,” you asked, trying to catch Ara, who kept running away from your grasp. Her newfound discovery of walking kept you busy, along with you trying to ensure she didn’t break any of Yoongi’s expensive music equipment.

Yoongi’s lips thinned into a straight line. He didn’t want to be a jerk and say no. He knew how difficult it was to ask for help, let alone trust someone to watch Ara. He understood that you’d do anything to protect her. So, he wanted to ease the burden in any way he could.

“You can’t call out of work. It’s your first day.”

“I know–but I’m sure my boss would understand.”

He picked Ara up, setting her on his hip, his arm tightly holding her. He looked at the chunky monkey, “We’re gonna have so much fun, aren’t we?” This was a way to convince himself. He didn’t have much interaction with children besides when he was one. Today would be very interesting, he thought.

Ara shrieked at the top of her lungs, squirming to escape Yoongi’s grasp. The two of you blinked and made a face at the noisy baby. You knitted your brows, unconvinced that Yoongi really had it under control. You pulled out your phone, ready to dial your boss’ number. “I’m–just gonna call out.”

Yoongi walked to you, pushing the phone away. “If I have any questions, I promise I’ll call you, okay? You have nothing to worry about. I got this,” he encouraged while Ara continued to wobble on her two little feet, shrieking as she ran around him. “See–she’s excited.”

You had to let go at one time or another. You couldn’t be jobless forever. You needed a way to provide for your little Ara, and Yoongi had already given so much to the two of you. So, the least you could do was make money and get out of his hair. “Okay,” you sighed, stuffing your phone back into your pocket. “If you need anything, anything. I’m only a phone call away.”

“Okay, baby girl–please be good for Uncle Yoongi. I’ll be back later. I love you.”

Yoongi practically had to kick you out of the apartment, but finally, you were out of the door and on your way to work.

“Ara, we have to run some errands today. It’s time to pick out your outfit,” Yoongi grabbed two shirts - one pink with flowers and the other purple with stars and set them on the table in front of him and Ara. She tilted her head, hands pounding the table, staring at the options before her little chubby hands grabbed the purple star shirt, babbling away. “Good choice. Now onto your pants.”

He laid out black leggings and soft blue jeans. “What do you think, Ara? I personally like the black leggings, but it’s your outfit, not mine.” She began to squirm while in his lap, taking blue jeans along with her. “Blue jeans it is.”

After getting Ara dressed, it was now Yoongi’s turn. Like earlier, he laid out two options on his bed, and like clockwork, Ara came wobbling and babbling away into Yoongi’s room. He picked her up, setting her on the bed. “Which one do you like?” he asked, pointing to one option, then the other.

“Ah-bu. Ah-bu,” Ara cooed, clapping her hands, a wide smile spanning across her face, then she hid her eyes with her tiny hands.

“Are we playing peek-a-boo?” Yoongi flashed a gummy smile. Who knew this little human could make him smile? He covered his eyes. “Where’s Ara?” He looked at her, and she mimicked him, hiding again. “Silly girl. Come on, help me pick.”

She threw herself back on the pile consisting of a black hoodie, a simple white tee, and jeans. “Just what I was thinking.”

Thankfully, the grocery store wasn’t busy since it was still early in the morning, but Ara was definitely a handful. He had to give it to you, being able to keep up with her. He didn’t envy you one bit, but it did make him earn more respect for you.

He brought everything he could think of to keep Ara busy–her favorite bunny plush and a soft, squeaky book. His last resort would be playing Cocomelon on his phone, but he couldn’t stand the endless nursery rhymes of the pale cartoon child.

“Ba-ba-ba.”

Yoongi continued shopping for a few items off his list as Ara babbled away, violently squeezing the squeaky book in her hands. He grabbed a cake and put it in his cart, and then Ara decided to throw the book back, hitting him in the face. “Aye–” he uttered, rubbing his cheek. “Baby girl–this is how you lose things,” he chuckled, grabbing the book and handing it back to her.

Ara resumed pounding the squeaky book and then threw herself back, sticking her tongue out. Yoongi stared at her. Babies are so weird, he thought.

“Oh my gosh. Is this your baby? She’s so cute!”

“No–uh–” He was unsure how to explain the situation between you and him.

“It’s so nice to see a man caring for his baby. Mommy is a lucky one, isn’t she?” The woman directed the last comment toward Ara, tickling her side, in which Yoongi pushed the cart away from her. Is this what parents with cute children always have to deal with? Strangers coming up and trying to touch their children?

“Has the bar gotten so low for men or something?” The woman stood straight, taken aback by his words. “Why are men praised for doing the bare minimum? I’m literally pushing her in a cart.”

The woman mumbled an apology and went on her way. He didn’t mean to come across as blunt, but he couldn’t help but notice the plethora of women giggling and smiling when he had Ara. He shook his head in disgust and scoffed, “Bet if your mom were pushing you, it’d be completely different, huh?”

“Yoongi–” you cried out, plugging your ears when you walked through the door. The rap music could be heard from down the hallway, and you wondered who was playing it so loud. You should’ve known it was your roommate. “Why are you blasting rap music right now?”

He brought his pointer finger to his lips, trying to shush you, then pointed to the sleeping baby on his shoulder. He shuffled toward you, hoping he wouldn’t wake up Ara. “Cocomelon wasn’t working, so I had to put on something, and this finally calmed her down.”

You deadpanned. “Big Poppa by Notorious B.I.G. calmed her down?”

“Hey–don’t question Biggie,” he grinned, then shuffled backward, dancing to the song. “I love it when you call me big poppa, throw your hands in the air if you’s a true player.” He threw his arm up, grooving to the beat.

You smiled and shook your head. You couldn’t help but sing along too, and then you looked over at the dinner table, and there sat a cake with cats decorated on top. “Oh my god–Yoongi, is it your birthday?” He nodded, his head nestled against Ara’s. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged. “It’s whatever. I don’t really care, but my mom ordered this cake and insisted I celebrate it.”

“Here, let me take Ara so you can enjoy your cake,” you stated, holding your arms out for your baby girl.

But Yoongi refused. “I got it. She might wake up if I transfer her to you.”

Jeez–when did Yoongi get so good at this?

He walked into your room, gently setting her in the crib beside your bed. He shushed her as he stepped back, hoping she wouldn’t wake up. Ara let out a big sigh before turning on her side. Whew, he thought. Crisis averted.

“Everything good?” He nodded yes, setting the baby camera on the table beside you. The two of you watched Ara sleeping peacefully. “Thanks again for watching her.”

Yoongi grinned. “Anytime.”

✨ next ~ the way you are

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fluff #yoongi cute #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts x y/n #bts x reader

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lesbopallascat · 11 months

Text

skizzisms list bc i felt like making a list (still adding on regularly so make sure to check og post if youre using this as a reference or something)

boat -> butt

okay? -> mmguh

flak -> static

DNR -> dinner roll

super dupe pooper scoop

get out of here you piece of JUNK!!!!!

[movie/song/tv show reference] whats that from 😏☺️

singing randomly

ooohuhuhu….ooo…

wuoh

nooch!

nooch. snoogins.

hup + bop (note that bop is mostly an impulseism but skizz has picked it up too)

you can bop if you so choose

saying single words/short sentences in a very abrupt way sometimes

jerk!

nicknames! eg: dipple dop, (tango) top, etc

mister doctor professor [name]

yeah babyy!

(high pitched voice effect) kevin bubbles malone refrigerator jimmy madeye dugan mug

messing with his poker chips while he talks

you’re amazing!

hungy dungy wungy chunky monkey

not an -ism but definitely a skizz thing: skompass (skizzleman compass) aka single blocks with torches on them that act like a breadcrumb trail

do/say x with my/your face

alriiight!

come on cletus

that’s what i’m talking about or that’s what i’m talking aboot

that’s for true

ah poopy :(

stop messing around (after messing around himself)

not really as common i think but sometimes he’ll put something in basic terms, and then say some variation of “but let me explain”/“what I mean by that is”/etc. (e.g. “Tango…you are such a perfectionist, but let me expand on this:…” in this stream)

there’s your thumbnail!

do you Need to take a Poopy. (phasmo)

(to the tune of “when the moon hits your eye…”) THAT’s moroiii (phasmo)

prreow. brrow (meowing. kind of.)

CRIT!!!!!!

makinabaaaabyyy

hi. how you doin'.

calling wardens "warden g"

you're amazing!

what's up!!

Ghoulie ghosty come out to play

(mimicking grian using the spirit box) are you heeyah

___ for a tick

you're not watching

im gonna leave that/leave it! (when he holds back on the opportunity to make a dirty joke)

___ is top shelf

combining two sentences into one longer sentence by just removing the pause for a period and continuing in the same cadence

Additions from notes:

random sounds while thinking (ex: lethr lethr lethr lethr)

What’s that gonna do?

great question newman!

in addition to “what’s that from”, Name it!

homie buddeh

“The Skizz”

HUYEAYUH/making faces along with that and other stream sfx

thats the first time in human history anyone has said that

in addition to you can bop if you so choose, singing the actual you can bop if you want to safety dance parody

mmmbye

(fns) you’re legit/are you legit?

(fns) come on knock on our doooor we’ll be waitin’ for youuu (in vc to bug the imposter) (part of the random singing point)

(fns) ope! crewmate again!

(fns) make-sure-to-eat-fruit (doing simon says)

DANGIIIIIT

what im gonnna dooo….

num-a-nums

well i Did/Am.

show me [item] salad!

the face he makes where his eyes go really wide and he tucks his chin in and stares

calling people he finds cool "cats"

referring to his face as his handsome mug

will sometimes not actually make his point yet before adding "you know what i mean?" as if there was a meaning to be had

claims he would never do something to someone that they did to him, despite the fact that he had or would do exactly that

lmk if i missed anything and i can add it Smile emoji

#skizzleman #i love paying attention to certain quirks and mannerisms that people have #skizzisms #skizzisms list #<- for finding easier

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firewalkzwit · 10 months

Text

arabella // hobie brown x reader (one-shot)

oneshot of hobie trying to pursue a reader who's effortlessly cool and has strong arabella vibes cuz i love that vibe. inspired some on slc punk and sex pistols lore, cool fic for the music enthusiasts

New girl's hip New girl's cool New girl's interesting New girl's hot.

"She came straight out of 70's New L.A. She's no rockstar's girlfriend, she's a rockstar herself! Crazy hair, mysterious bassist, she's from outer space."

AO3

And when she needs to shelter from reality she takes a dip in my daydreams...

"Ay, who's the new girl?" Was the first thing Hobie asked as he nudged Pav's shoulder, not breaking his intense stare at the new recruit.

"New girl? Oh that's YN." Pav shifted his narrowed eyes into Hobie's, a teasing grin drawing on his face.

"Yea' but what's her full name...?"

"Go ask her yourself man, everyone calls her YN." Hobie never got her name, she refused to be called anything but those particular initials.

To say she was pretty was an understatement. She was stunning, show-stopping, alluring.

At least to Hobie, all adjectives were perfectly applicable.

She had this quirk, this confidence and these slight Chrissie Hynde vibes, boldness when she spoke that made her so attractive, and to top it she was a great musician.

Back in her dimension it was the seventies, and she was the leader of a girl band where she played the bass, doing small gigs in downtown New L.A.

She wore flamboyant black cowboy boots and scandalous skirts, with chunky sunglasses that looked like the eyes of a bug. She had crazy hair and wore Vivienne Westwood's accessories on her pierced ears and fingers before it was even cool in the US. Her dark tights were always ripped but she didn't care, she called it a fashion statement. So did she call her Spidey suit, which had a unique design that caught anyone's attention.

Love was for posers Hobie thought, but what's more punk than going against your own structures?

"Gwendy I gotta' talk to this girl more." Hobie's frustration was something Gwen wasn't used to seeing. His nature was often relaxed, only energic when invited to disrupt the order, but hardly ever frustrated.

"Well, you don't have to." Gwen shrugged as she tried to mask the frown that was forming in her face, but her wrinkled nose gave away her displease of jealousy.

"I know, but I want to." His attention was fixed on YN, how she moved and talked. "I wanna hear her play. You're a girl right? When you girls think a lad's fit, how much of that comes from his coolness?" He asked as he leaned on Gwen's side, resting his body weight on her. She scoffed in disbelief at the absurdity of his question, something only a man could ask.

"Since when do you want to conform to the arbitrary standards of women?"

"I don't, I just wanna' know how many I can get away with breaking and she can still like me yea'?" Hobie chuckled before getting up again. "Don't get too jealous on me alright?" He joked, patting his friend's shoulder as he jumped down from where they were sitting, approaching her once again.

"He's never gonna give up is he?" Miles sat once again close beside Gwen, who sighed at the sight of Hobie attempting to come off as nonchalant with a girl who only seemed to curve his insinuations over and over.

"That's such a man thing to do, no offense." Gwen spat as her hand slid down her face, pointing at what she could only describe as a humilliation show.

"Yeah... right."

It's not that she didn't notice, she just dodged him. She thought there was more important things to do than let herself be conquered by some co-worker. But she was lying if she said he wasn't winning her over.

He also was so her type.

The funky hair, the spikes on his leather vest, the stickers and carvings on his guitar, his Iggy Pop vibes and his weird slang. But he thought he was so it, he was a nice guy but he needed some humbling. Their first conversation was about Bowie, and he played her a bit of Moonage Daydream as she recalled when she saw him live, getting all starry eyed whenever she'd narrate the part where she gave him a ride in her car.

"You gave Bowie a ride?"

"Spider's Tour, yeah..." She giggled, flipping her hair in a way that had him starstruck. "In my mom's car."

"In your mum's car? Oh get out." She went on to talk about how that changed her view on music, going on about her gigs in New L.A and how she moved there to make it big.

Hobie was sure he was listening, but as much as he tried to contain himself, keeping in comments was not in his book.

"You always dress this mad? Like, all the time?" He bursted out with a smile, cutting her off. They were sitting on a counter table, with his guitar on his lap. He leaned closer to pick on the fabric of her coat.

"Always. Do you always dress so pretentious?" She retorted with a smug grin, pushing her hair out of her face. His eyes shot up to look at her, puzzled. "I mean, aren't you like... rebelling against society?" Hobie let out a slight laugh, his head tilting in interest as he looked into her eyes.

"Well, yea'. Why?"

"Don't you think it would be more of an act of rebellion if you didn't spend so much time buying stickers and pins and going out to get punky clothes? Stop me if I'm being offensive, I think the style's hip, but it just seems counterproductive to your cause."

"Na' its cool, keep going." He struggled to discern if he was actually listening, or simply invested in watching her mouth smart words as her long painted nails tapped on the counter.

"You want to be an individual, but it's like you wear a uniform. It's just punk fashion, not rebellion." Hobie's eyes fixated on her's, leaving a strong silence as she ended her phrase.

"I'm not judging you, just kind of a general critique to what they call punk movement."

Hobie brushed her off with his usual humorous comments to maintain his pride, but he was dazzled. Even if she had criticized his way of thinking and how he dressed, she was so outspoken, without caring what he had to say or thought about her opinion, and he was crazy for his first impression of her, as much as he hated to admit it as he'd call 'Love is for posers'. Hobie was sure he was just trying to win her over, to prove a point he'd say, but deep down he loved the way she smiled and shook her head whimsically everytime he'd say something or take time off his schedule to nag her.

It was a few times that she gave Hobie the chance to play with her, to which she soon learnt that he did not know how to read tabs. Of course the punk kid is self-taught. Trying to lead, they would play messy numbers and solos. It was ocasionally just her and Gwen, who had let YN grown onto her sharing her love for girl bands, doing some jamming with their instruments as Hobie payed vague attention. But he would pound on any chance to be alone with her and try to take her out.

She didn't know what was in her that day, but she let him take her out.

He toured her around his universe, before taking her to what he called "his palace".

The small canal boat was ridiculously a very Hobie place to live. If she were to guess, she'd think he lived in a tree somewhere in Birmingham. However it had it's charm, it was very humid and it wobbled when they walked, but it was unique and she loved it. Hobie showed her the collection of things he had stolen, proving himself to be a brilliant thief. He owed most of his 'talent' to his Spider-Sense and speed, but he'd never bring it up.

As she sat on the mattress where he slept in, Hobie picked up one of his records, sitting beside her to show her the signed insides of the vinyl. Her eyes paced from the inscriptions to his face, as he ocasionally caught a glimpse of her through the corner of his eye. He left the vinyl aside to go on about his encounters with the infuential musicians on the area, how he attempted to steal the microphone the Bowie of his dimension had used when he was touring in his city. Her gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips back and forth.

He was hesitant about making a move, afraid he'd mess up what had taken him so much work. But wasn't even given time to think it through before the proximity between them grew, and her hand softly caressed his bony cheek and down to his neck, inviting him to lean into a kiss. As they made out, his cold piercing was quickly warmed by her damp tongue and soft lips that sucked and kissed his. His hands caressed up and down her waist, undoing the buttons on her blouse with his slender fingers as she revealed her naked torso, no bra underneath. YN did her usual hair flip to watch him undress her, and himself, jumping on her once finished to continue what he had briefly interrupted.

"We won't sink, will we?" She asked between soft giggles as the boat quivered at his abrupt movement, Hobie nibbling down her neck and kissing her chest.

"I wank pretty crazy here every night, we won't." He teased before crawling backwards, kissing down her navel.

songs i listened to while working on this:

(ofc) arabella - arctic monkeys

moonage daydream, lady grinning soul and starman - bowie

hey, velouria - pixies

rhiannon, gold dust woman - fleetwood mac

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gee-arid · 5 months

Note

ok, sorry if question is a bit long and if you have answered, please put the link for me to see please. Well... what are the names of the heroes? What was each heroe's first choice? (I mean the ladybug and cat holder). I know that Marinette is with the Fox and Ivan with the turtle, but for some reason I think that if they swap it would combine more (I speak more in symbolism, ivan who cannot lie with the "miraculous of lie"). What is the weapon of each carrier? About the turtle and Ivan, I think a purplish blue would match more (that leatherback turtle). What are the camouflaged forms of each miraculous? Do you have the reason why every person has every miraculous?

A big ask, but thats okay! I'd love to answer! Note that some answers like names and weapons are subject to change, im not great with names and im less familliar with some characters than others so, opinions and other ideas are awesome :)

Names and weapons, left to right:

Aliase Rouges (red wings), Cartoony sledge hammer

Veilluese (night light), Grappling hook

Bison? Hyland?, Guitar- its electric but doesnt have to be plugged in..

Adora (play on Adore), Frisbee

Ouroboros, Mirror shield (play on the medusa myth)

Tack (to temporarily fasten something together), Big Needle

Captain Stinger (shortened to Sting), Cutlass

Jockey?, Reins? maybe a whip

Alectryon, rooster body (i guess?)

Jack Rabbit (shortened to Jack), Pickaxe

Ridley (a type of turtle), Detatched shields- Bonus purpley-blue version: honestly it works just as well.

Tora (Japanese for tiger, i think), Sythe

R.A.T (acronym for Rodent Assist Team? idk, funny bit based on pokemons F.E.A.R strat lol, also sounds like a dj name??. also based on his purpose being mostly assisting pedestrians), Glow sticks (almost like a pair of lightsabers, without the deadliness. Basically glowing battons)

Boar, Boomerang (shaped like boar tusks).

Cirrus (a type of cloud, Aroure and Mirelle share the name and the miraculous), Lightning rod/ wind sock

Caprix (Play on Caprine), Chunky roller blades

Gibbon? (a type of monkey), one of those silly stretchy sticky hands

Reasons for each holder are here!

First choices are also listed there, if there isnt an alternative listed, they either had the same idea or no strong preference for a different holder. Regarding swapping holders based on symbolism (i.e. Ivan with the fox, Mari with the turtle) that would be super cool and i may draw them at some point in the future, but wouldn't fit with my au. This is because my bug and cat holders choose them based on preexisting relationships, traits, and talents.

Camouflaged forms are these:

Struggled with Alyas rabbit miraculous tbh, it doesnt quite fit with my au for it to stay a pocket watch anyway (the Rabbits power being swapped from Burrow in a time sense, to Burrow in a dig way) so i guess its normal activated form would be some kind of keychain? Alyas disguise currently is a tamogachi :)

Nino wears the mouse necklace wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet.

Max's snake bracelet turns into a smart watch.

Markovs claw connects to his existing claws, and mimics what claws he already has.

Mirelle and Aroure have similar chokers with the charm changed. Aroure has the lightning bolt, Mirelle has the rain drop. They have the chokers replicated by comission with Marinette so they can swap the actual miraculous between them when needed.

Sabrinas sunglasses are prescription. They could also be just normal glasses, no black tint, when appropriate.

Marcs ring, where rainbow, is iridescent!

The butterfly and peacock are still unavailable to our heroes.

#miraculous au #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous fanart #fanart #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #kwami swap #anon ask #ask #miraculous lb #mlb redesign #mlb #zodiac miraculous #lore dump #miraculous headcanon #headcanon design #headcanons #PIXEL ART SPRITES ARE RIPPED FROM THE SCOTT PILGRIM GAME #well except Alectryon

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bit-dodgy-innit · 2 years

Text

Playground Appropriate

Part of my 500 Follower Celebration set in The Shape of Youniverse

The Prompt: Marc is the best dad ever with Nyla at the local playground

Requested by: a lovely nonnie!

Pairing: Marc x afab!reader, background Steven x afab!reader and Jake x afab!reader, Reader is married to the system

Spice-o-meter: 🌶🌶🌶, Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 2.5k

CW/TW: Bosses being terrible, Marc is a booty-ful DILF but reticent about another bb bc trauma, mention of lactation kink and pussy-drunkenness, dirty talk, sixty-nineing so both m! and f!receiving oral, P in V sex, a smidge of over-sensitivity and spanking, daddy kink

A/N: Is the gif shitty and low-quality with a tacky watermark? Yes, but guess what? I DON’T CARE! I made it myself because the video from whence it came and an idea from @lovetopanic that MAJORLY inspired me when writing this fill. To the beautiful little bambina who made this ovary-exploding moment happen, thank you for your service.

As much as you loved being back at your job, you hadn’t missed days like these. Your and Marc’s plans to take Nyla to the Discover Children’s Story Center were promptly and thoroughly ruined when your boss called early this morning, a Saturday, and demanded you report into the office for an emergency meeting. You were in charge of one of your company's largest accounts, which while it came with lucrative bonuses and more challenging, fulfilling work, it also meant dealing with your superiors’ neuroses.

Your husband patiently listened to your laments while you got ready to go into the office. You wanted nothing more than to tell them to shove it, but your family was swiftly outgrowing your current place and you needed every penny of everyone’s salaries – yours, Marc’s, Jake’s, and Steven’s – to afford more space in the overpriced and cutthroat London real estate market.

“We can go another time,” Marc tried to downplay the inconvenience as you finished primping in the living room mirror to look office-presentable and he fed Nyla breakfast.

“I know it’s not a big deal, it’s just–” you slipped on a pair of loafers and huffed, “--it’s the principle of it you know? Graham and Nigel are both middle-aged divorcees, they don’t have families they care about spending time with, so we all suffer. In-person too.”

“Which is why you have to hang in there and get promoted so you can change things,” your husband reminded you. He turned to Nyla, “We’ll find something to do just the two of us.”

“You’re right,” you conceded. “But can you blame me for wanting to spend every second I can with this chunky monkey?”

Rather than waiting for Marc’s reply, you peppered your daughter’s plump little feet and legs with kisses in her high chair. She squealed in delight at your affections, flailing her hands in delight and sending her banana slices flying.

“Thanks,” he harrumphed at the additional mess.

“Sorry,” you apologized with a kiss to his cheek before you pulled on your jacket and grabbed your bag.

Nyla proceeded to slam the tray of her high chair and shrieked even more when she saw her mom was leaving home without her. Marc knew he’d be dealing with an irate 16-month-old if he didn’t handle this right.

“Okay, come here little girl,” he freed his daughter from her seat and scooped her in his arms. “Let’s say goodbye to Mommy.”

They met you in the doorway and your baby’s sweet, cherubic face, currently with banana smeared across it, tugged at your heart strings. You wanted nothing more than to text your bosses to go fuck themselves, how dare they take you away from your baby any more than necessary, but you were tolerating these nightmare men ultimately for Nyla’s benefit. “Mommy will be back soon sweetie, be a good girl for Daddy.”

“Wave bye-bye Nyla,” Marc encouraged her, modeling the gesture himself. After a few moments of watching her father, Nyla mimicked his wave. It was the cutest thing you’d ever seen. “Bye-bye Mommy, we love you, bye-bye!”

“Bye Smushy, love you so much,” you waved back at her, swooped in for one last kiss on those chipmunk cheeks, then addressed your husband. “I’ll text you when I’m free, honey.”

“Sounds good, babe,” Marc murmured and pecked you on the lips.

Leaving the two of them felt akin to a death march as you exited your building for the Tube. No matter how big Nyla got, you always felt an ache when you left her. Even when she was in the more than capable hands of her doting dad, being apart from Nyla felt as if there was a piece of you missing. It was easier to cope with when you were sleep-deprived or your daughter was driving you crazy, but you and Marc’d had such a lovely morning with her.

***

It was a herculean effort for you to maintain a professional veneer during the meeting with Graham, Nigel, and a few fellow godforsaken colleagues. Thankfully, assuaging their concerns about the account didn't take more than an hour and a half. You just needed to send a few “urgent” emails and then you could return to the quaint, quiet weekend you’d been enjoying with your family.

You immediately fired off a text to Marc once you left the conference room.

From me: Leaving here in 10!

From Hubby: K, we’re at the park.

Marc was the “coldest” texter out of him and his alters. Steven loved his emojis, while Jake messages were always a mix of English and Spanish with an abundance of typos in both languages. He wasn’t much of an emoji user, though he did love the smirking devil one. It was usually fitting, after all. Boy loved to sext. You’d tried over the years to hammer into Marc’s brain that ending texts with a period meant that you were either angry or a psychopath, but it was a lost cause.

Today Marc redeemed his unintentionally icy text by sending a photo of Nyla on the swings at Dulwich. You were impressed that he’d not only managed to dress your daughter in an outfit that wouldn’t get her seized by the local safeguarding children board, she sported an actual hairstyle to boot. You detested the phrase, but Marc was blossoming into quite the “girl-dad”.

From me: PIGTAILS!

From Hubby: Steven helped with those.

From me: Well done, you two! See you soon xx

***

When you arrived at Dulwich playground, you spotted Marc and Nyla before they saw you. You took a moment to covertly observe them, marveling at how attentively the man who was initially afraid to hold his newborn was now playing with his daughter. He followed her every move, steadying her with gentle and firm hands when Nyla needed it, encouraging her the entire time.

Turned out you weren’t the only one admiring Marc with Nyla. You’d be the first to sing the praises of Marc’s butt, and with him bent over tending to his daughter as she toddled around, you couldn’t exactly blame the mums and nannies that were enjoying the view.

You approached them before it got creepy and announced yourself with the exclamation, “Is that my big, beautiful girl?!”

“MAMA!” Nyla launched herself at you and you swept her in your arms at once. You dotted kisses all over her face, and lifted her up above your head, earning a peal of ecstatic laughter. Then, just like that, she was squirming to be released.

Marc sidled up to you once Nyla’s feet were back on the ground to ask lowly, “Do I get a kiss?”

“Hmm, let me see.”

He got a kiss alright. One with tongue and that included your hand wandering into the back pocket of his jeans to give one of those luscious ass cheeks a squeeze. Were you marking your territory? Maybe.

“Now, that was not playground appropriate,” he panted when you broke apart.

You shrugged your shoulders and answered in a voice that was not one bit repentant, “Oops.”

“Mama!” Nyla banged on the thick plastic of one of the playground’s slides.

“Apparently the first fifty times we went down together weren’t sufficient,” Marc observed wryly.

“Of course not,” you laughed and passed him your bag to hold.

Twenty minutes with Nyla and all of your work frustration was forgotten. The three of you ended up spending the remainder of the afternoon at the park, stopping to pick up a pizza for dinner on the way home since neither you or Marc felt like cooking.

Later, your husband tucked Nyla in while you wrapped up a few outstanding emails on the couch. You met Marc just outside of her door and collectively tip-toed into your bedroom.

“That was impressively fast,” you remarked once it was safe to speak at full volume.

Marc emerged from the en-suite with his toothbrush in hand. “The playground tired her out thankfully.”

You sat up on your knees from your spot on the bed. “You can’t blame me for wanting another baby when you’re so good with her.”

You and your husband had begun to discuss Baby Number Two. While Steven and Jake were on board, Marc was the hold out. The last thing you wanted to do was pressure him since you suspected his reluctance was out of lingering fear and trauma from his past.

“Steven and Jake just want to knock you up so they can milk your tits again.” Marc earned a little shove from you for that statement, but he continued, “Also you said you wanted to be in a bigger place before we had another?”

You cursed Marc and his stupid memory when he disappeared back into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

He joined you on the bed, and you tucked your fingertips under his T-shirt to strip it off. “How about we compromise then, and you pound that big cock into me instead?”

Your husband groaned, both from your naughty suggestion and the touch of your hands flitting from his chest downwards. “Shit, I hope she stays asleep because I’ve wanted to fuck you raw since that move you pulled at the playground.”

“Hmmm, I can feel it,” you purred, wrapping your fingers around his growing erection. “Watching you take such good care of our little girl made me so wet.”

“Lemme see,” he grunted, momentarily removing your hand from his dick to knock you back among the pillows.

You spread your legs as soon as your back hit the mattress, and Marc wasted no time hiking up your nightgown to get a glimpse of your folds. A low, aroused rumble resonated from his chest at the sight, compelling him to trail kisses up the inside of your thigh.

“This little pussy is always so pretty and glistening for me,” he growled.

“Marc,” you sighed, your voice thin while he touched you. “Wanna suck your cock.”

Your husband didn’t have to be told twice. He manhandled you on top of him, leveling your eyeline with his throbbing dick while he lined up his mouth with your entrance, which was currently clenching in anticipation. You drew his length between your lips and swirled your tongue around its head, tasting the salty pre-cum that had begun to leak from it. Marc groaned at the stimulation and sank his face into your pussy in turn.

Together you made the most divine feedback loop of pleasure, your slurping around Marc’s member, spurring him to lap at your folds all that more enthusiastically. It was nearly impossible to focus enough to apply any technique to sucking your husband’s dick when he was tongue-fucking your hole and drinking down your ample nectar like a man starved. His deep moans reverberated against the wet, sensitive skin between your thighs, bringing you even closer to the orgasm steadily building within you.

You choked on your husband’s erection when he landed a slap on your ass, then moaned around him when the large pad of a calloused finger found your clit. The extra stimulation, in addition to Marc’s tongue swirling inside of you, is what you sent over the edge. Your eyes crossed, dick still in mouth, as your peak swept your body from head to toe.

The force of your climax meant you needed to pull off his manhood to get sufficient oxygen into your lungs. Just when you’d recovered enough to resume your worship, Marc tapped your thigh to stop you. Though your husband was usually all too happy to come in your mouth, tonight was different.

“Need your cunt,” he clarified with slurred, pussy-drunk words.

“Fuck…okay,” you gasped, your voice rough from having your husband’s dick down your throat.

Maneuvering you onto your back amongst the pillows was an easy task for Marc, your body made pliant and prone by the delicious orgasm. He leant down to share an absolutely filthy kiss with you, greedily tasting the tang of the two of you together, before he locked eyes with yours. Only once your dilated pupils had found his did Marc drape your leg over his shoulder and slide home.

You rewarded him with a drawn-out keen, writhing under his dark, suffocatingly hot gaze. He began with slow strokes, grinding himself against your pelvis, luxuriating in being one.

“So deep, daddy,” you whined. Speared on his cock, your frame convulsed when he undulated against you, since your slit still felt like a live-wire after your orgasm.

He rocked even more torturously slowly where you were joined, circling those sinful hips so you could feel every inch of him. “You like it?”

“Uh huh,” you gasped, jerking once again from oversensitivity.

Your husband transitioned to a faster pace to impale you on his member. His increase in tempo earned a euphoric whimper from you. With no orgasm to chase, you could simply revel in the sensation of his dick filling you over and over, losing yourself in the stretch of your pussy around his thick girth.

“Yeah…come on, take daddy’s cock,” he snarled as he thrust into you, backing off his ferocious rhythm some. “So fuh-fucking tight.”

“So big,” you whimpered, pretty sure that you were about a minute away from vibrating out of your skin.

“No one fucks you like daddy, right?” Marc slowed, waiting for your answer before driving into you any further.

You shook your head so rigorously, your cheeks collided with the pillow as your neck thrashed back and forth. “Please daddy, pound my pussy!”

He approved of your response with another growl, “Well, since you asked so nicely,” and resumed a punishing pace.

From there, it was a blur of the sound of skin slapping skin, Marc’s grunts, your cries, and your husband testing your flexibility by stretching your leg back to get a deeper angle before his hot cum was painting your walls.

Marc straightened up after emptying himself into you, pressing a small, reverent kiss into the skin of your ankle before releasing your limb.

Honestly surprised that you could formulate words, you somehow commented, “I know the jury’s still out on a second kid, but you are damn good at making them, Marc Spector.”

“As are you, Mrs. Spector,” he echoed, collapsing back on the bed.

He tugged on his boxers once again, and you pulled your nightie back down as you padded to the bathroom to clean and relieve yourself. Marc followed suit, and when he reunited with you in bed, it was important to you to confirm, “Another baby or not, you know you’re a great father, right?”

Usually Marc would deflect with a (often dirty) joke, but this time, shrouded in the darkness of your bedroom, he replied quietly, “I hope so.”

“You are,” you averred and snuggled closer into him. “It’s not just me either, the entire female population at the playground was salivating over you playing with Nyla today.”

“So that’s why you greeted me with that pornographic kiss,” he chuckled.

“You’re mine,” you shrugged, not one bit ashamed of your actions.

Marc pressed a kiss into your hair, “That’s right, baby.”

A/N: Raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimized by Oscar Isaac not putting a baby in you 🙋‍♀️ I’m doggedly making my way through these prompt fills, thanks to everyone again for your patience and support!

Taglist: @twwcs, @rmoonstoner, @hot-mess-express1, @murdickdocked, @toracainz, @saahmi, @unspokenmoon, @winterbiipp, @avatarofseshat @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6, @harrys-tittie, @ninebluehearts, @lucianadraven32, @dawnsutopia, @strawberry1042, @nikitawolfxo, @weirdo125

#moon knight #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x female reader #marc spector x you #marc spector smut #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac fanfiction #bit-dodgy's 500 follower celebration #oscar isaac fanfic

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dumbslxtclub · 1 year

Text

you’re on your own, kid | e.m - part nine (bonus chapter)

eddie munson x singlemom!reader

summary: set after the events of season four, Steve has disappeared and is presumed dead in the upside down. broken and now left to deal with your pregnancy alone, Eddie takes it upon himself to support you to the best of his abilities in Steve’s absence.

chapter summary: we learn the root of eddie’s longstanding guilt as he navigates the crossroads of your relationship.

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, unplanned pregnancy, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, mentions of death, reader is 19, anxiety, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, slow burn, not beta’d

word count: 2.8K+

a/n: cheeky little bonus chapter for you!! wanted to give eddie his moment in all his angsty glory, big shoutout to my bestie @dickfics69 for beta reading this one and working with me over zoom to flesh out these thoughts. hope you enjoy!

taglist: @lezzy-bennet @harrypotteranna23-blog @reidstea @sashaphantomhive @bexreadstoomuch @audhd-dragonaut @littlepotatobeansworld @ches-86 @tlclick73 @fckyeahlames @gnocchey @astrolockley @sidthedollface2

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Part Nine: You Sunshine, You Temptress

The door swings closed behind Eddie, and shock hits him like a freight train bulldozing through his momentary confidence. The warmth of your skin still lingering on his fingertips, the flushed-pink of your lips practically grazing his still imprinted in his mind. Heart pounding, hands shaking, and the faintest smile playing on his lips. Fuck. He wonders if he should celebrate or criticize his actions, but he’ll have time for that later.

Lucky for him, it’s hard to sift through the onslaught of thoughts flooding his brain over Squid’s vocal crying bouncing off the thin walls of the living room. He flicks on the near-by lamp, illuminating her still bundled-up figure in the crib, squirming around in the confines of swaddle.

“Hey, chunky monkey.” Hands outstretched, he places a hand behind her head to support her neck, worming his other hand to her lower back. Lifting her up and out, he quickly readjusts to rest her into a cradle position. With her head nestled into the crook of his elbow, he begins lightly tapping on her side and bouncing gently. “Shhh, let’s give your mom a quiet night tonight, yeah?”

Sighing, he makes his way to the couch, assuming the same spot the two had spent a majority of their shared night. Once comfortable, he runs a finger delicately along her rosy cheek, mouth wide open to release a plethora of screams at maximum volume. He traces along her chubby cheek, around her eye and across her eyebrow, lightly stroking the bridge of her nose. With this new contact, the tickle must be relaxing to her with the cries slowly weaning off. He’s learning to read her like a book, desperately flicking through the rolodex in his mind searching for what might calm her down. And so, he continues the motion with the corners of his lips still upturned as he studies her tiny face. Up and down, small circles, repeating the motion until her cries morph into coos and soft grunts. Eyes fluttering open, she takes in the faintly lit room around her. Eddie grins as he sees her big brown eyes, gazing up at the plaster ceiling with the occasional babble.

“There she is.” Pulling his feet up onto the coffee table, his knees are faced skywards in a semi-supine position while he relaxes back into the cushions behind him. With a dramatic huff, as if Squid weighs a tonne, he maneuvers her into the groove between his legs. With her head nestled comfortably between his knees, face now eye line with his, he gives her sides a small tickling squeeze. “Couldn’t sleep, huh? Yeah, me neither.”

Although he’s positive she couldn’t identify him at barely six-weeks old, he feels his stomach backflip as her eyes bore into his with a sense of recognition. Familiarity. Safety. Her cheeky face lights up at the sight of him, shooting him a wide and gummy smile, nestling further into the comfort of her swaddle.

And then, it hits him. She was crying because she just wanted to see him.

His heart swells, letting out a soft exhale, pure affection bubbling in his chest and threatening to boil over. God, Eddie wishes he had Jonathan’s camera with him right now, wanting this image immortalized forever. Another picture to add to the pair taped in his locker, getting to see that smile every time he swung open the metal door. But simultaneously, he would not wish for anything to take him out of this moment, no desire to see the perfect image in front of him through a lens. It wouldn’t compare. Wouldn’t even come close. It’s like he’s meeting her for the first time over and over, intently examining her features. He can’t believe something could be so small. So new. So perfect. And, as much as he hates to admit it, he thinks she might be growing into her head. Time to think up new ways to get under your skin.

The two sit there, the faint hum from your fridge the only sound aside from Squid’s gurgling as her eyelids grow heavy, unable to fight off the call of sleep any longer. Her lips contort into an O-shape as she yawns, all the while Eddie runs the back of his forefinger along her chin. And, for the last time, her eyes catch a glimpse of Eddie’s before closing to the world, adequately settled once again. The pair sit in silence, Eddie taking to playing with her mess of hair as he waits for confirmation that he can put her back in the crib without waking her. There’s no doubt she’s Steve’s daughter with the amount of soft, brown hair adorning her head. He takes to mindlessly combing it with his fingers, first brushing it all to one side as a sort of comb-over. Unsatisfied, he brings all of the hair to the middle, smiling giddily as he clasps his hands together in an upward motion. He continues brushing her hair inwards, watching his creation come to life. The mess of hair takes the form of a mohawk, the world’s smallest metalhead sleeping peacefully before him. He chuckles to himself, giving her cheeks one final squeeze before carrying her back to the crib.

There’s a particular chill to the mid March air, the promise of warmer days a luxury not yet granted to the town of Hawkins. Amidst the leaves kicked up by each breeze and the occasional cluttering of a metal can along the gravel, Eddie sits with his knees tucked to his chest. A moment of sheer solitude alone on the steps of your trailer, embers from his cigarette being prematurely carried into the wind. Nestled between his middle and forefinger, Eddie’s lips wrap around the filter, taking in a long drag of tobacco, allowing the haze of smoke to fill his lungs as it has countless times before.

He’s not unfamiliar with the early hours, the eerie loneliness it brings to those few unfortunate enough to experience it. Intimately acquainted with the hues of gray and purple penetrating through the thin covering of lingering cloud forms, the view grounding him numerous times after waking from yet another nightmare depicting red skies and suffering. Images burned into his mind’s eye, inescapable and so tangible he feels he could reach out and touch them if he so desired. Breathe in the dense fog, allow it to coat his lungs with a thick layer of desperation. Wrap his fingers around Steve’s dirt-covered bicep, try helplessly to pull him to his feet. Press firmly into the wound carved deep into his abdomen to stop the waste of blood seeping out. Every night, no reprieve, reminded of what he didn’t do.

Hands shake subconsciously as he once again returns the cigarette to his parted lips. It’s been the same story stuck on repeat like a broken record since the day the group returned without one member. The story that resulted in countless nights of lost sleep. The story no one is more desperate to believe than Eddie.

He couldn’t bring himself to accept any other versions of the events, not with the implications they carry. And yet, day by day, his perfectly crafted web begins to collapse under the weight of new information. Carefully spun silk methodically weaved into a pattern of his choosing, now fracturing and threatening to break apart. How could he begin to explain it to you? And how could he ever expect your forgiveness once you knew the truth?

He wonders some days if it’s possible to be completely consumed by guilt, swallowing him whole and plunging him into a purgatory of his own creation. He should have told you. He should have told you the first night the group returned, at your trailer. Before he knew about Squid. Before he began to care. Before he grew attached.

There are facts, and then there are assumptions, hopes without tangible proof growing more and more likely to be true. Dustin and Robin were as bad as each other when it came to making mountains out of molehills, finding the smallest pattern in their daily lives and deconstructing it until they inevitably arrived at the same conclusion. With each speculation, Eddie grew increasingly more anxious, hoping to keep their conspiracies out of your earshot. But he couldn’t deny the mounting list of strange happenings. Robin’s recollection of the flickering lights in her home, divulged mere hours after Squid was born. Strapping the carrier to Eddie’s chest before running to a strangely familiar van sitting in the Hawkins supermarket parking lot, its occupants spent the day seeking her out. And then tonight, a frantic Dustin peddling his bike all the way to the trailer park, breathless and shaking as he announced the news before whisking Robin away.

Owens found something.

That was all the information Eddie had to work with at the moment, and he would love to say it was all he was privy to. Ignorance is bliss, and he was afflicted with too much knowledge.

He allowed you to feel hopeless.

He encouraged the intimation that Steve was gone.

He did all of this, knowing fully well that Owens had been looking for Steve since day one.

Guilt morphing into pressure, sinking him further into a dark sea of half-truths that should never have been spoken. Haunted by a pact made by the group, covered in the blood of others as they crawled out of the remaining gateway to a life now unfamiliar to them. He knew what he was getting into.

Shaking his head, he stomps his long since burnt-out cigarette butt to the ground. Eddie knew better than to let you in, to grow as attached to the pair of you as he’s become. His miserable existence is a movie, the ending of which he’s seen dozens of times before. A jangling of keys, a slam of a door, a scuffling of rocks under worn tyre. Everyone leaves, eventually. Yet, he can’t shake the feeling that he may be in too deep this time, finding pieces of you in the deepest recesses of his soul. Like children exchanging trading cards to complete their own collection, going out of their way to fulfill what the other lacked. He could have kept the first exchange civil, one acquaintance looking out for another during a time of need. Whose need was greater was something Eddie failed to consider. A burden in his childhood, unwanted by his parents and discarded at the first possible chance. A failure in his adolescence, rebelling against the status-quo and reducing himself to a portrait of what the world expected him to be. And at rock bottom, as he trudged along the gravel driveway of the trailer park he called home, gut heavy with culpability and survivor’s guilt. Plagued by his past, and hopeless for the future, he heard it. Your wails cut through the silence of the park, a physical manifestation of the despair looming in the night air. The kind of anguish that he has seldom vocalized, but is intimately acquainted with. Like a wounded deer on the side of the road, body weak with suffering and begging for mercy, he approached your door with an air of humaneness. Armed with only his innate sense of compassion, he comforted you from a distance, keeping his walls firmly in place.

Walls that were being deconstructed brick-by-brick with every late return overlooked, every firm kick beneath tender skin, every soft exhale as sleep danced across your eyelids. His carefully constructed edifice of detachment now non-existent, uncomfortably open to the uncharted terrain that comes with emotional involvement. And he can’t help but fear that his intentions have turned self-serving, enjoying being at your beckoning call. Willing to crawl to the ends of the earth if it puts a smile on either of your faces.

Selfish.

The week following Squid’s birth, Eddie picked up a shift at the auto-shop after reassurance that his presence wouldn’t be needed around the trailer. He planted his decade-old backpack at his feet before the metal lockers, clicking the combination he was assigned until the access was granted. From the front pocket, he rifled through until his fingers found the glossy paper of the fresh image. Securing adhesive putty to the four corners of the sheet, he mounted it in his locker beside the ultrasound, pressing it down firmly with his thumbs. A scuffle of boots on laminate flooring was followed by his co-worker’s cheery voice.

“Look at that! Your girl had her baby, hm?”

Eddie spun around to the older man beside him, his wide grin openly displaying neglected and yellowing canines.

“Oh, yeah. She did.” Eddie shuffled uncomfortably, wading knee-deep in the waters of the lie he’s created. The man scooted closer, studying the image. “Her name’s officially Audrey, but I’m still rooting for Squid.”

Bob (maybe Ed, who cares), face gruff with deep-set wrinkles in his crow’s feet, chuckles at the image. It’s not hard to imagine the image evokes memories of his own children’s births, kids who have long since moved away and now try to call once a month.

“Congratulations, son. That girl looks like she’s got a good head on her shoulders." His oil-stained forefinger indicates to you, wide grinned in the hospital bed. Eddie smiles.

“Yeah, she sure does.”

“Take good care of ‘em, you’re a lucky fella.”

And with a squeeze on the younger boy’s shoulder, Eddie’s co-worker retrieves his lunch pail from his respective locker and pulls an old baseball cap over his balding head, bidding Eddie farewell. The two innocuously spoken words reverberate through his mind, heating his heart in a way he wasn’t accustomed to.

Your girl.

The dam breaks before Eddie is cognitively aware of it, suppressed emotions boiling over like an unwatched pot on the stove, neglected and unable to be further contained. Hot tears streak down his wind-burnt cheeks, hand quickly finding his mouth to stifle his untrustworthy exhales. He squeezes his sleep-deprived eyes shut, relishing in the burning sensation on his waterline. Every fiber of his body urges him to let out a scream into the quiet trailer park, as if that will absolve the heartache in his body. Instead, he resorts to choking out unsteady gasps of air between his tightly linked fingers, the steady stream cascading from his eyes along the grooves of his cheeks. He validates his greatest fear, allowing his guilt to overwhelm any self-love he granted himself. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve you. A boy in man’s clothes, playing house with the girl next door, as if that would make him feel whole.

And it did. It made him feel needed.

Wanted.

Loved.

He was quick to shut down your admission earlier, but still endures the aftermath of the shared sentiment. Sometimes, I’m glad he’s gone. What a fucking awful thing to think, let alone speak into existence. Of course, he felt no judgment when the words softly left your lips, understanding completely where you were coming from. But now, he can’t help but think of the implications should Steve return. And all will be right in the world. Squid’s dad will be back in the picture, something he always longed for her to have. A position he was happy to fill in the interim, now surely slipping from his grasp. What could have been, destined to exist as unlived dreams tucked into the bottom drawer of his mind. With all the love he has for the two of you, and he doesn’t know where to put it now. It’s too heavy to carry on his own.

His gaze flickers to the temptation of the unoccupied trailer across from him, his bed empty and awaiting.

Cold. Desolate. Lonely.

The familiar comfort it brings, however solitary it may be. He was used to it. But after all he’s experienced, he’s not sure if he can go back to that way of living. His mind goes to the little girl, snuggled up in her crib, blissfully unaware of the plight around her. And you, wrapped up in cotton sheets and exhaustion, waiting for him to return through your slumber. How easy it would be to lay down next to you on the plush mattress, wrap his arms around you and hold you close to him as he longed to. To inhale the scent of shampoo lingering in your hair, press his lips to the nape of your neck, feel your warmth beneath his undeserving lips But, then again, how could he deserve such an unearned luxury?

Instead, he remains paralytic for a moment longer, occupying the space of limbo between his two comforts. A man destined to fail from the moment he was born, he cannot envision a scenario in which he is absolved of his guilt.

His heartache.

His love.

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