amorgansgal

[amorgansgal]

Devour.....

[amorgansgal]

(˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) sweet & spicy

[amorgansgal]

So husband and I went to a baby sling advice session and we got to practice with the various slings that were available. And omg, seeing the husband wearing a sling with the practice baby doll just kind of sent me feral! Like I just immediately wanted and needed THAT! Especially afterwards when he told me he was super excited to have Finn in a baby sling! 😍

[amorgansgal]

took my lonesome cowboy to the lavender fields 🪻✨

[amorgansgal]

Chapter 6 - Beaver Hollow: My Last Boy

[amorgansgal]

Orc halsin…

[amorgansgal]

RIP Graham Greene. You were an incredible actor and a gentle soul. I watched you in every step of my life through media of all kinds. You will be missed.

[amorgansgal]

a little nap after a nice swim in the lake✨🌼

[amorgansgal]

idk man my goddaughter ripped the ears off of one of those mats, had to take the idiot to the ER bc one got stuck in her throat. newborns are no joke 😭

Oh blimey! Maybe husband has a point then!

[amorgansgal]

Gale: So… Tav. Have you noticed any romantic interest blossoming among our camping compatriots?

Tav: I have actually.

Gale: Really? Who?

Tav: Well, I’ve been dropping them the most insanely obvious hints for ages now. No response.

Gale: Wow. They sound a bit stupid.

Tav: Well, they’re not. They’re actually really, really smart… just dense.

Gale: Look, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, subtlety gets you nowhere. You have to be more obvious. Quit the subtle stuff and just be like “Hey! I love you!”

Tav: Huh. I guess you’re right.

Tav: Hey Gale, I love you.

Gale: See! Say that.

Tav:

Tav: Holy fucking shit.

Gale: If that flies over their head then, sorry Tav, but they are too dumb for you.

[amorgansgal]

Oh my god, lmao, I am wheezing! I think my husband thinks we're having a super strong baby, because when I showed him a cute baby mat he was concerned the baby was going to rip the fabric ears off one of the animals that's sewn on there! Like hun, he's not going to have THAT much strength when he's newborn!

Then later on he was utterly bemused when I asked my mum to get the baby a baby gym (as she had asked if there was anything else we needed) and husband literally thought a baby gym would include barbells, dumbbells, etc Like our baby would be pumping iron and doing press ups! Husband's now pouting a little and being all 'Well why is it called a gym then??' Literally going to marry this man all over again! 🤣🤣

[amorgansgal]

[amorgansgal]

charlottle balfour is a criminally underrated character i fear

[amorgansgal]

[amorgansgal]

Too hot

It’s hot.

Not just hot—unbearably hot. The kind of stifling heat that settles like a wet cloth over the body, sapping breath, blooming nausea behind the ribs. The air hangs heavy in the tent, unmoving and thick, and she’s stuck—pinned, really—beneath the sheer weight of the man beside her.

Arthur.

A goddamn furnace of a man.

All hair and skin and sweat, wrapped around her, pressed against her, holding her like he’s trying to merge their spines into one.

She groans softly as she tries to shift away, struggling to peel her slick skin from his. It’s a slow, inelegant battle: skin sliding, sticking, gliding, then sticking again. She wins an inch. Maybe two.

And then she’s pulled right back in.

Arthur grumbles in his sleep, a low, rough sound from deep in his chest. His arm hooks around her again, pulling her tight against his chest—possessive, yes, but not controlling. Just instinct. Muscle memory. Like his body can’t help itself. As natural as breathing.

His forearm presses against her throat—not choking, not dangerous, just there, firm and anchoring. She gasps at the contact, surprised, not frightened. Sweat beads along her hairline, trickles down the swell of her chest.

How in God’s name is he comfortable like this?

She wonders that same damn question every night now. Back when they were holed up in the mountains, snow piling at the door, the fire guttering low, his body had been a blessing—a wild, living heater. Something to cling to when the wind howled like wolves and her fingers went numb even under the quilts.

But now?

Now they’re deep in the southern swamps. Even the nights feel like mid-afternoon. Air wet with decay and humidity, the canvas of the tent radiating heat like it’s been soaking it up all day. Arthur’s stripped down to nothing, sheets already kicked aside, but it makes no difference. He’s still all man and mass and heat wrapped around her.

Every night, the same routine: she waits until he’s asleep, until his grip goes slack. Then she wriggles, slow and careful, enough to roll and face him instead—arms still tangled, skin still touching, but her back exposed to the open air, desperate for even a whisper of a breeze.

She draws a slow, shallow breath now, timing it with his. His is steady. Almost. She makes her move, just starting to turn—

“Where ya goin’?” His voice is low, muffled by the pillow, rough with sleep and thick heat.

She freezes. “Just… changin’ position,” she whispers, caught like a thief in the act.

Arthur doesn't move, not really, but she hears the shift in his breathing. He’s more awake now. “Ya do it every night lately,” he mutters. There’s a pause. “Why ya movin’ away?”

She hesitates, then leans in quick, pressing her face to the side of his cheek, her lips near the corner of his mouth. “It’s just so damn hot, Arthur. I can’t breathe.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then:

“Well, Christ, woman,” he rasps, finally lifting his head to look at her. His eyes are heavy-lidded, blue and dark in the low light. “Why didn’t ya just say that?”

He tosses the quilt the rest of the way off the bed with one massive swipe, like a man hurling off a saddle blanket, exposing both of them to the watery moonlight trickling through the thin canvas walls. The air is no cooler, not really, but the gesture feels like something. Like freedom, air, reprieve.

“C’mere,” he grunts, already flopping back into the pillow, stretching out on the cot like a great lazy lion.

She scoots close again, bare skin against bare skin, but this time she’s on her side, facing him. Arthur meets her halfway, their fingers lacing together between them. He always did that—held hands in the dark. Like even if they were tangled all over, that was the part that mattered. That quiet little claim.

“How’s this?” he murmurs, voice low and scratchy.

“Better,” she sighs, and she means it.

The weight of his arm is gone from her throat. His breath is soft on her face. The worst of the heat has dissipated now that the bedding’s off, the pressure eased.

She lets her fingers drift down his side, tracing a line from his shoulder to his hip, then over the curve of his buttocks, round and firm and perfect. She watches as goosebumps ripple over his skin in the wake of her touch. Arthur smirks, slow and lazy. His eyes are still on her—barely open, unreadable.

She meets his gaze.

“You cold?” she teases.

He snorts quietly. “S’too hot,” he says, lips twitching.

She huffs a laugh, then presses her body closer, her thigh sliding over his. Her mouth finds his in the warm dark, the kiss slow and damp and open-mouthed, heavy with sleep and salt and want. She lets her hand slide back up to his chest, feels the steady pound of his heart.

His hand squeezes hers between them. The kiss lingers, the heat lingering too. She pauses, her hand moving to Arthur's damp cheek. She looks into his eyes again—so blue—before whispering;

"Hmm, it's not so bad, I guess."

[amorgansgal]

Dude???? Okay then?????? Jesus christ man we get it stop looking up like that

[amorgansgal]