#a bitty of a different color

[cubbihue]

What would Peri’s power level be if he didn’t have his inhibitor/stabilizer wand and just went apeshit?

While Cosmo deals with too much magic in his body, Peri suffers from a slightly different issue. Cosmo has the greatest amount of magic in Fairy World. Peri is incapable of regulating his magic.

Peri cannot, not then as a child and not now in the present, control his magic. Without his inhibitor, he can easily destroy an entire realm- just as he nearly destroyed Earth as a baby. This fact has not changed, although it is less plausible today than back then.

Peri's taken extra measures in the present-day to ensure it cannot happen.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

Instability: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[gurlgallade]

Hi! Haven't been able to do much progress on this because we fucked up our wrist a little, but there's embroidery and a presentable amount of Four's assets have color now!

[cranberrytea451]

@erineas as a bitty

Based off this post https://www.tumblr.com/erineas/726866403381084160/tried-those-neka-maker-for-myself-and-didnt

[emdotcom]

I’ve been drawing, again!!

[xhoneygirlxx]

Juicy

Eddie Munson x big boob fem!reader

summary: the heat causes you to let the girls hang free and it causes Eddie to be a flustered mess

warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader has breasts and wears feminine clothing. skin color/ethnicity is not mentioned! Eddie being a flustered cutie. idiots in love :) mentions of high school jocks being gross. 18+ MINORS DNI. smut: heavy making out, grinding, titty sucking, premature ejaculation. mentions of titty fucking and cumming on tits. shitty writing and not proofread.

a/n: hello my honey buns!! i wanted to get something out while i work on some of my current wips. i got inspired to write this bc i have a tig bitties and every time i wear a bra i feel like i'm dying and i'm too insecure to not wear one lmao. also, i just wanted to say that all different shapes and sizes of bitties are beautiful!!! also please be kind! smut is not my strong suit.

The late August heat made living in Hawkins unbearable. That might be an over exaggeration since you've never traveled anywhere outside of your town, but it still felt like the underside of satan's ballsack.

You regret agreeing to hangout with Eddie the minute you saw the afternoon weather forecast and regret it even more when you got into the metalhead's van. With no working a/c in the vehicle, there was no choice but to have the window's down to get some sort of circulation.

It wouldn't be so bad if there was a breeze but the air was dry, burning your lungs with every single intake of oxygen. You could feel the sweat rolling down your spine, making the thin cotton tank top you had on stick to your skin.

The cotton shorts you had on didn't quell any heat that you were feeling, only making your thighs stick together uncomfortably. Eddie being the angel he was, had already stopped at the gas station, picking up whatever snack he thought you might want, including a cherry icee that was already melted.

The sweat the beaded at your hairline, falling down your face like raindrops, matched the sweat on your cardboard cup. Syrupy sweetness coated your tongue as you drank it, coolness going down your throat to extinguish the flames within your body.

You needed to get out his car as soon as possible and into some air conditioning. Eddie on the other hand looked as cool as a cucumber. His cut band tshirt blowing through the warm air, black jeans tight on his lower body, and his brown curls in a low bun.

You almost wanted to hate him for being so calm, never showing any discomfort when it got hot like this. God, you hated the way he looked so relaxed, puffing on his cigarette and driving with one wrist on the steering wheel. The sun shining off of his ringed fingers, the band squeezing at his tiny waist, the black ink on his alabaster skin dancing with every move he took- he was so beautiful and it was making your temperature rise even higher.

When he pulled up to his trailer, you were up and out of the van before he could even pull the keys out of ignition. To your dismay, he was taking his sweet time getting out of the car, making you wait in the blaze of the sun. If you didn't know any better, you'd think the cheeky asshole was doing it on purpose. As he rounds the car, a plastic bag dangling from his wrist, a playful smirk paints his lips.

He's definitely doing it on purpose. Asshole.

"Where's the fire, Cherry?" he jests playfully at you, making you scowl even more.

"It's going to be in your hair if you don't hurry the hell up." You yell back at him. A small laugh leaves his pretty lips, shaking his head as he pulls out his key to unlock the door.

"I'll open the door faster if you say please." You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. Playing up the part even more, Eddie takes his time putting the key into the door.

"Oh please Eddie, would you be so kind and unlock the door?" You smile sarcastically up at him. He mimics you, straight white teeth flashing brightly in your eyes.

"Now was that so hard?" Scoffing at him, you push right past his body and enter the trailer.

The small a/c unit the sits in the window works overtime, buzzing and rattling loudly, to cool down the small trailer. It feels like heaven when you walk in, the immediate temperature drop makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

Plopping down on the well loved couch, you sprawl your limbs out trying to cool every inch of your skin. Placing the bag of treats on the table, Eddie makes his way into the kitchen to retrieve a beer from the fridge.

"Is Wayne off today?" The absence of the older man only coming to your attention.

"Yeah, he went to Darla's house." Eddie mutters his response as he works the cap of the beer bottle off.

Darla was Wayne's new girlfriend he had been seeing the past couple months. You had fallen victim to many of Eddie's rants about his uncle coming home late and never calling letting his nephew know he was safe.

Humming a response, you turn your attention to the television that's currently playing reruns of The Golden Girls.

Now that you've been in the cool air for not even five minutes, the creeping heat comes back into your body. The culprit being your chest, heat radiating in the cups of your bra. It was uncomfortable already with the weight on your back and shoulders, not to mention the sweat that collected in the fabric.

Jumping up abruptly from your slouched position, you work your hands around your back preparing to take off the article of clothing. . Before you it off, you remember that you're not in your own home and that it might make Eddie uncomfortable.

As he walks in from the kitchen, sipping on his chilled beer, he catches your stare. Raising a brow and removing the bottle from his mouth, he turns to you.

"You okay over there?" He questions you, eyeing your posture and how you look like you've been caught in the act of something you shouldn't be doing.

"I need to take my bra off but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Oh boy is he caught of guard, choking on his spit loudly. His cheeks are tinted a deep red, eyes wide and bulging from his face. Of course he didn't care, you guys were friends and he always wanted you comfortable. The only problem was that you would be braless, sitting next to him.

It's not like you haven't before, any time you wore big baggy shirts he knew you didn't have a bra on, but the extra material of your shirt blocked the visuals of your loose breasts.

When you cock an eyebrow at him, he shakes his head, brown curls bouncing with the movement.

"Y-yeah sure. Ya know what we Munson's say, this land is your land, or whatever." He chuckles nervously eyeing you from where he stands across from you.

Letting out a roaring laugh, you reach your hands under the hem of your shirt, undoing the hook.

"I'm pretty sure Woody Guthrie said that, Eds." Forcing out a small laugh, he watches as you pull the straps down your arms and then pulling the material out from under your white tank top.

Yeah he's going to die right here in the middle of his living room. When you finally pull it from your sticky skin and discard it somewhere on the floor, your nipples pebble up from the cold air. You lean your head back and release a sigh of satisfaction.

You don't see how Eddie's drinking you in right now, how he's staring at the way your nipples are visible through the wet cotton of your shirt, or how he can see the fullness of your chest.

It was no secret that you had a bigger bust than most of the girls in town, earning the nickname of Cherry from all the jocks at school, which you took pride in and eventually took ownership of.

Unlike the jocks, Eddie never made any comments about your bust. Not that he didn't think of them when he was beating off in his room every night, but he never commented on them to you which you appreciated. To him you were just you, double d's or not.

While you were in pure bliss, Eddie was living a nightmare come true. The girl he's had a crush on since middle school is braless in his home, right in front of him. He didn't know how he was going to sit next to you now with the way blood was rushing to his cock, the stiff material of his jeans didn't help his discomfort.

"So, what are we watching today?" Cracking your eyes open to look at your best friend, you could still see him standing in the same spot, staring right at your chest.

Oh. OH. He was staring at your chest. You could have so much fun with this, give him a little taste of his own medicine for his little stunt earlier, making you wait longer in the heat.

"Eds?" Your tone was sinfully sweet. Placing your arms on either side of you, you used your forearms to push your boobs together as best as you can.

"Huh? O-oh yeah. Um, we ugh, we could watch Nightmare on Elm Street." He was tripping on his tongue every other word.

Quickly moving from his spot, he knelt down in front of the television to pop in the horror movie. The boy who was so unbothered by record breaking heat, was now a sweaty, heavy breathing mess because of you.

After starting the movie, he slowly retreats to the couch but as far away from you as humanly possible. Maybe it wasn't that he was hot and bothered by you, maybe he was just uncomfortable with your state of dress.

For the first twenty minutes of the film that's all you could think, trying to figure out what you could do to make the situation better. Without thinking, you take a lollipop out of the bag of goodies he bought, popping it right into your mouth.

You took your time, swirling your tongue around the red candy, hallowing your cheeks every so often. You weren't really paying attention to what you were doing, staring straight ahead at the glowing screen. Eddie was paying attention though, growing unimaginably harder than before.

The movement of Eddie taking the pillow from behind his back and placing it right on his crotch, brings your attention the boy next to you. He wasn't as smooth as he thought, the placement of the pillow gave it away right away. His sweat soaked bangs, bouncing leg, and red cheeks definitely gave it away.

Removing the lollipop from your mouth, you place it down on the discarded wrapper laying on the table. Turning to him, your knees criss cross, you say his name softly.

His head turns with speed when you call him, chocolate brown eyes replaced with the darkness of his pupils.

"Are you okay? You don't seem, well you seem bothered. If it's me not wearing a bra, Eddie I can put it back on." You sputter out, worry rising in your stomach at the thought of making him feel awkward with your braless tits.

Releasing a loud sigh, he runs a hand down his face. "Cherry, I'm not bothered by you not wearing a bra. Well, okay, I am but I'm not uncomfortable."

He's staring right at you, almost like he's waiting for you to catch on but you don't. Eyebrows furrowed, you try to understand what he had just said to you. Before you can ask, he reiterates himself.

"Baby, I'm not bothered because you don't have a bra on. I'm very much the opposite and because I'm a gentleman, I'm trying to make myself calm down the best I can. It's just hard to do that when you're deep throating a sucker right next to me." The last part comes out as a joke, dimpled smile to prove it.

So you were right, he was hot and bothered by you. Just like he made you wait for him, you made him wait even longer to rid himself of his discomfort happening in his pants.

"Well Eds, you know if you wanted to see them all you had to say was please." You tease and he groans loudly, throwing his head back.

"Please, Cherry." He begs and you give in, lying back on the old couch. Beckoning him over to you, you spread your legs to give him room. Like a panther, he pounces on you, smacking his lips to yours.

Its heavy and animalistic the way your tongues attack each other. The lingering taste of beer mixes with the cherry from your candy. When you push your hips up to get some friction on your aching heat, he whimpers in your mouth.

He takes your motions as permission to grind into you, the pressure making both of you moan in unison. Pulling away from your mouth so you two can breathe, he moves to his next target.

The warmth of lips meet the chilled skin of your neck, he kisses all around the precious skin to find that sweet spot. When a wanton moan falls from your red stained lips, he thinks he's hit the jackpot. Sucking and kissing the spot under your ear, you're sure there will be a blotch of purple there.

You hiss out when he runs his teeth along the spot, jerking your hips up in excitement. Moving his face so that he's looking at you, you can see the spit that coat his red swollen lips, the lust the pool in his eyes. He's so pretty like this, so fucking pretty and he's all yours in this moment.

"Can I see your pretty tits, Cherry?" He asks so sweetly, like he didn't just sinfully makeout with you. Nodding in approval, he shakes his head at you.

"I need words, princess." He waits for you, who is currently looking up at him like he's hung the stars and moon. You look so fucked out and so disheveled. He's always known he was going to marry you but when he looks at you he has no doubt that he's going to marry you.

"Please, Eds."

That's all he needs to hear before he's pulling the front of your shirt down, revealing your chest to him. He stays there for a minute, looking unbashful at your tits, like they were the eight wonder of the world.

His unwavering gaze starts to make you insecure, worrying that maybe they weren't as nice as he thought they would be. They were heavy and slightly sagged due to the weight, you had stretch marks that decorated the skin like a zebra.

Pulling your arms up to cover yourself, he grips your wrists and pulls them down. Moving his gaze back up to you, his eyes are much softer.

"Don't hide, please don't hide. Not when I've waited so long to see these." A tingling sensation fills your face, making you smile giddily up at him. When you nod at him, he goes in face first into your chest.

"Fuck, I've dreamt of this for so long." You want to respond but you can't when his mouth is placing pecks to the delicate skin of your breast.

Resuming his motions from before, his hips roll right into yours like a wave crashing on the shore. He's everywhere, filling all your senses. Eddie.Eddie.Eddie. That's all that's in your mind, especially when he places your pebbled nipple in his mouth.

"Fuck, Eddie." You hiss out, reaching your hand to the nape of his neck, placing a gentle pressure to keep him there. His switches between swirling his tongue around the numb and sucking on it.

His other hand snakes up to your abandoned breast, groping the fat of it before his fingers pinch the nipple. It's sinful the way it feels, his hard cock hitting right where you need him, the warm of his mouth, and the moans that you release.

Eddie groans, causing your skin to vibrate. Removing himself from your abused breast, he moves to the other one, finally giving it the same attention as the other.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He groans out, eyes closed in ecstasy, high off the scent and taste of you. His movements start getting faster causing him to moan even louder.

Moving away from your chest, he looks down at you, the way your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. He looks at the mark he made on your neck, and how your skin shines with his saliva and your sweat. Your pupils are blown wide, lips puffy and shiny. Then he moves his eyes back to your tits, imagining what it would feel like to run his dick on your sternum, how pretty they would look coated in his pearly white cum, and how hot it would be to titty fuck you.

Every possible scenario plays out in his head when he looks at you and it's too much. With one finally grunt, pulled deep from his stomach, he hangs stops all his motions, collapsing onto of you.

Dazed and slightly confused, you let him catch his breathe. When he brings his face out from the crook of your neck, he has a boyish smile pulled on his cheeks.

"Ed, did you just-"

"Cum in my pants like a teenager? Absofuckinglutely, but if give me about five minutes I'll give you everything you want." You reach your hand up to his face, pushing some of the loose hair that fell from his ponytail, behind his hair.

"If you say please, pretty boy."

He didn't need five minutes, instantly getting hard from the sultry tone of your voice.

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[starsha-k-luna]

This is so Cute🥰 I swear I can feel my teeth rotting with how sweet this is💖

In chapter 34 of Dereliction by @jellfishjellfish John, Clay, and Floyd sing Happy HatchDay to Branch. The cute little bug gets so happy that some of his color comes back. Unfortunately that also meant he could taste the extra super sour cake John made just for him

Hopefully this comic serves as the exact opposite of what my last Dereliction comic did.

[oxygenunavailable]

Marble Sky Character Color Analysis:

By me.

I don’t know if anyone has pointed any of this out yet but here I go:


I love how, in the colored ref sheets, the protagonists: Ward, Oscar, Holly and Iris, have cool tones. Blues and violets. This indicates calm, colectivness. Peace and passion.

In more detail, blues for the humans makes a lot of sense. Earth is the blue planet, not because of gas,( Neptune, Uranus) but because it’s 75% water. Water is the source of life, as far as we know. Blue also represents our sky. Our big, blue sky, versus the “marble sky” implanted by the Marmors. Blue also commonly represents freedom, imagination, sensitivity and serenity.

Holly and Iris are purple. Purple is the color of magic, royalty, creativity, wealth and pride. Teegardinians pride themselves in their spirituality, connection and peace. And their planet clearly was very peaceful, open and full. They have magic from their god(s?), wealth (food), and clearly have some sort of leadership (royalty). Their creativity is their different abilities gifted to them, individually. This entire thing especially applies to Holly and Iris, not just the teegardinians as a whole, as they are both most likely higher up or more “in charge”, whether because of their spiritual connection or lineage.

Next are the marmors. Their species has more range in color and character design.

Contrasting to the human’s blue, Eclipta, being the leader of the antagonists (for now) is super bright and warm. (Yellow, orange, red) it represents violence, energy and impulse. Her outline and outfit are sharp and angular. Dangerous. Her entire being, It stands out more. She’s the main one to listen and turn to, so she’s the first one you see.

Sculptor is different, however. They have green. It’s a cool tone, sure but not one associated with the humans. Green is the representation of nature, growth, renewal. I believe Sculptor is less focused on just the violence, unlike Eclipta, and more on the growth of their species. they obviously are okay with the violence, and enjoys it. But it’s not just for the fun, it’s so the Marmors stay on top, where they belong. (Ain also has a lot of dark green in their outfit.)

Shepard is white and grey. Neutral. No color. He looks whatever colors light is brighter, and right now, it the blazing red tHiNg is in his chest, coloring his intentions? Perhaps? Or just completely empty of emotion, he just… is.

For my grand finale, ALCOR!!

This bitty boy is also very cool toned on the skin. This could easily symbolize his connection with Oscar, and perhaps as we see him grow, he’ll join in the fight against the Marmors. His armor, however, still has that warmer brown, because as of right now, he’s still with the Marmors.

Anyways, I could be just talking about nothing. But here this is I guess.

[pinkmirth]

⸻ 𝑃ℛℰ𝒮ℰℛ𝒱ℰ!

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ the belmont family has endured for centuries, and it’s now up to richter to keep it going strong. there’s only one way to ensure the expansion of his bloodline, and it’s simple; knocking you up.

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮 ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ ( 6k+ words of . . . ) richter belmont x fem!reader, canon-divergent, set in the 18th century (1700s), nsfw/smut, porn with very little plot, established relationship, size difference, nipple play, handjob, panty-ripping, p-in-v, heavy breeding kink, many mentions of pregnancy, missionary, tummy bulge, lotus position, creampies, richie’s a bit cocky (when is he not!), use of pet names (e.g. darling, love, good girl, rich, richie . . .), richter calls reader a ‘ cockslut ’ once, explicit language, lowercase intended, black coded, minors shoo!

𝑀𝒴 𝐿𝒪𝒱ℰ-𝒩𝒪𝒯ℰ! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ after binging castlevania (nocturne), i instantly fell for that gorgeous man richter & his baby blue eyes ><  he’s got a sharp mouth, a pretty face, and nice biceps– of course i’m in love with him! i just had to whip up somethin’ for my favorite belmont (dunno why, but i heavily believe their clan is crazy about breeding hmm) this was supposed to be an itty bitty drabble, but it ended up much longer than i thought it’d be . . . and might i warn you that this is mostly just sappy, nasty filth. now, please enjoy this smutty piece of work for richie! ❤︎

richter has made the renard household your favorite place on earth. more specifically, you’re fond of his homey bedroom. it’s got this olde charm to it, and a wide glass window with french-pinewood framing; one that offers a pleasant view of the grassy fields and neighboring stream that surround the cottage. 

over anything else, his bed is surely the best part of it all. there’s a fluffy duvet in that dusty-blue color he likes, one so large that it covers his long legs even when they tangle between yours. the quilted mattress has just the right amount of space for two lovers, and is comfy enough to keep you warm throughout the night, considering the chance you might stay over. 

though, there is a downside, as nothing can be perfect— it creaks far too much when he fucks you. 

it’s not often that the both of you can make good use of that bed of his, especially when the noise makes things terribly obvious. you wouldn’t dare attempt anything improper in richter’s room with his adoptive family just a brief set of steps away. 

there's a time for everything, but not that he cares. you try paying no mind to richter’s lingering touches along your waist, and how he mischievously dives underneath your bottoms to grab at the fat of your ass with a wicked grin; all as his aunt tera boils porridge and beans by the stovetop downstairs. you’re sure he finds joy in the risk, or more in provoking you. 

it’s only when the house is empty, apart from you and richter and nothing else, that you can have your fun. like now, for instance. it’s out of pure luck that tera decided to pay a visit to the farmer’s market, and for maria to tag along with her mother as well. they mentioned something about wanting to buy the best of what the early-autumn harvest had to offer, with the meats being juiciest and the produce fresher than it’s been all year. 

you believe that’s why richter’s got so much stamina— the plenty of food he’s been scarfing down lately. or, possibly, it could just be him . . . nothing but him, and his unexplainable belmont genes that make him fucking superhuman. he swears he’s normal, but the way he picks you up with such ease as soon as his family steps out the door can only be deemed as unnatural. 

he's quick to sweep you off your feet, in the most abrupt way he can, of course. richter grins over the way you squeal as he whisks you past the kitchen, ‘round the table, and down the corridor. his hands work at keeping you upright, palms firmly planted under your thighs. he carries your weight like that of a feather and doesn't break a sweat. but considering where he’s headed, straight to his bedroom, that’ll soon change. 

“don’t go getting all surprised on me,” richter voices a lighthearted whisper. he kisses the part of your neck that he can manage to reach from above the collar of your blouse, “you know what we do once we have the place to ourselves.” 

“you snatched me off the ground without notice, i’ve all the right to be surprised— ohmygod, richter!” you sputter out a laugh, with his mouth on your flesh being so ticklish. you can feel his lips curving upwards, taking the shape of a smile. your arms fling around the back of his neck like second nature, fingers carding through his fluffy brunette hair. with zero patience, as always, richter kicks the door in with the shallow heel of his leather thigh-boot, slips into the room with you still in his arms, and shuts it closed by pressing you up against it. 

he was right about one thing— once tera and maria leave, this is exactly how it goes. clothes are torn off with haste (mostly on richter’s end, as you could imagine), heated kisses are exchanged, and he spits the nastiest words with that sharp mouth of his in order  to get you all worked up. the night sky and moonshine from the window gives his room this subtle tone of blue, but he makes you feel red-hot. 

richter keeps you right where he wants you; held up by his unfiltered strength, with your back to the door. one moment, he’s drawing closer to you, raking over every detail of your face with nothing but admiration swirling in his eyes. by the next, his lips are moving languidly against yours, slightly unruly yet undeniably passionate. you wouldn’t dare admit how much of a damn good kisser he is. the man’s ego would fucking skyrocket.

though, you really don’t have to tell him anything. the way you reciprocate his affection says it all. he breaks away for a sparing moment, but not before bringing his tongue across your bottom lip in one playful swipe. it’s light, teasing, and completely of his nature.

“i can see it in your eyes, y’know.” richter chuckles at how you lean forward to chase after the warmth of his lips again. he brings you to your feet so he can slip off his fingerless gloves and undo any harnesses. he then crouches a bit to unzip his boots. 

“see what?�� you airily huff, haphazardly undoing button by button on your blouse until it’s completely open. similarly, he begins to make quick work of his top. you enjoy the flexure of his biceps as he pulls them out from the sleeves of his cerulean blue blazer-vest that he drops once free of, allowing it to scatter to the ground. you catch onto its emblem; the belmont crest, neatly embroidered upon the breast-pocket. 

“how much you want this,” richter peers down at you, eyes gleaming the prettiest tint of blue. “it’s cute, how obvious you are.” his upper half is bare, and the smooth canvas of his chest is all can focus on while he closes in on you. you’re trapped between the sturdy door and his heated body, and you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. 

“you’re practically salivating over the thought of getting fucked, yeah? bet you wouldn’t mind if i took you right here.” he grins as he says it, staring unashamedly at how cleavage pools from your brassiere. richter creeps a finger underneath the strap, tugs it down and does the same with the other, dipping his head low to pepper your bare shoulder with feather-light pecks. before long, the bra’s at your feet. 

“hm, but you’re no different,” you manage out, reveling in the warm lashing of his tongue against your nipple. it buds up the more he suckles at it.

“really, now?” he eventually parts from your breasts and rises back up to his full imposing height, carrying that faint smirk he forever wears. he looks so adorable this way— cheeks pink, lips spit-streaked. richter takes hold of your bottoms from either side of you, and swiftly brings them down with what you could only call pure impatience. 

“yes, really. you’re just as desperate,” you counter him, reaching low to prove it. your palm grazes his bulge, and you give a few thorough squeezes; the kind that makes his mouth drop open. 

“look at you, almost bursting out of your pants,” you quietly giggle, gazing up at him through the wisps of your lashes. richter wonders how you make such light fun while using your touch to undo him all at once. his breathing quickens, and it gets just a little heavier with your every attempt to caress his throbbing cock through his trousers. “seems like you need it more than i do, doesn’t it?” 

“oh, fuck me . . .” richter whines, settling his head into the slope of your shoulder. your touch leaves him, just for a moment, to rid him of those restrictive pants. his cock springs free from its confines and bobs under its own weight. he’s got more length than girth; a good six or seven in size, with two thick veins running along the underside of him. the faint-pink tip prods at your thigh, staining your skin with precum. 

he bucks against you hungrily, fingertips digging into the seams of your panties. you think you can hear them splintering apart. in the heat of things, he always winds up tearing your good underwear. 

richter could ease into this moment and let your hand work him senseless, but there comes a time where he decides to end the charade. there’s also no knowing when his aunt and sister will return. he wants to make the most out of the unpromised time you have. 

and so, he cuts your fun short with a mere rasp, “i’m through messing around with you. get on the fucking bed.” 

no malice is found in his words; it’s just the height of his lust. you’d do as told, but richter’s already taking action into his own hands. with two, three— no, four steps, he’s standing at the bedside and splaying you across it. he snags off the remaining of your torn panties, left to suggestively decorate his floor. now, in all your naked glory, you’re bare and ready for him. 

richter crawls over to you and kneels from above where you lay, situated closely between your legs. your thighs cushion either side of his lean hips. he leans down occasionally whenever you plead for a kiss, or wish to thread your fingers through his brown tousled hair. it now looks just a bit wilder than usual. 

“c’mon— open, darling.” he hints at your legs, smoothing his warm palms down from your calves to your thighs. ever the compliant girlfriend, you part them nice and wide for his viewing pleasure. your cunt’s glossy and wet, clenching around nothing but the intangible air around. 

‘oh, how pretty,’ he breathlessly murmurs, dragging two fingers across the expanse of your body. down, down, down, until they’re tracing along your slit. your dripping hole puckers against the pads of his index and middle, and you whimper when he threatens to push two inside. 

“this wet, yet i’ve hardly done a thing,” his voice is ever boastful, “are you sure i’m the desperate one?” both fingers are suddenly replaced with his stiff erection, and he uses the precum-stained tip to catch onto your clit, resting warm and heavy against it. to that, you release a little ‘mm,’ and he taps against your puffy bud with the head of his cock— stopping once your hips start bucking for more. 

“god, you just love to torment me . . . ” you huff out, vexation getting the best of you. “torment you? oh, never.” richter taunts, slotting himself between your puffy folds. he steers the way he glides against you by keeping a thumb at the base. “i just like to watch you squirm, is all.” 

you know how to pry what you want out of him; a little bit of begging here, a small ounce of praise there. you lift your hips to grind against the underside of him, emitting soft moans whenever he rubs against your swollen clit just right, “richter, please. i really need your cock . . .”  

“oh, baby,” he bites at his lower lip, giving in just as you expected of him. “i love it when you ask nicely.” in one fluid motion, he fits himself past the fleshy ring of your entrance and slips right inside. noise falls from you both; you’re gasping at the steady push, doing your best to accommodate every given inch, and richter’s letting small groans escape him, fingers digging into the tender flesh of your hips. 

“always so fucking . . . tight,” he emits a shuddered breath, dropping his head to watch himself bottom out deep enough for his balls to nestle snugly against your ass-cheeks. you’re well connected now, to the point where his own pelvis has become sticky with your arousal. chestnut fringes drop into his view, and he sweeps his hair back with one hand threading through it. 

“you’re taking it all so well this time,” he lifts his gaze to meet yours, a subtle grin playing on his lips. “such a good girl for me.” the connection between you two pulsates. he starts to build a delicious rhythm— drawing out for just a second, and pushing back in by the next. he watches you melt beneath him, your eyes sealed shut and mouth agape. a tangly string of moans tumble from your plush lips. richter’s no composer by any means, but the sounds he pulled from you is nothing short of beautiful music. 

he’s without resignation tonight, and you notice his intensity when handling you. those naughty hands of his cup and squeeze and rub, his thrusts are fast, and you're sure that the resounding ‘smack!’ of skin-upon-skin can be heard from outside the window with how loud it’s become.  

richter’s got your wrists bound above your head using the grip of only one firm hand, while he uses the other to keep your leg perched over his broad shoulder. his cock pushes deeper inside whenever he rolls his hips into your own, and your toes curl against the sheets with every stroke. when ramming in, his breath goes shaky at the sight of your body lurching, and pulling out makes his eyes roll back with how hard you’re clamping down on him, practically begging him to stay. 

you’re soon to unravel, and you can tell he is too. his thighs begin to tremble, and his pace is less timely. nearing ecstasy, you already know what richter’s bound to ask you: 

“where do you want me?” 

without fail, he poses the same question by the near end of every session. and each time, you opt for the safe route, even though you secretly wish for more. your answer mostly varies on whatever position he’s got you manhandled in. bashfully, you’ll instruct him to cum over your ass if he has you bent over, or your tits if he’s been ogling them the whole night. sometimes, you’ll even let him decorate your pretty face with his seed— now that drives him mad, so much so that you always go another round or two afterwards. 

but your true desire is, by far, much filthier than the rest. you’re nowhere near daring enough to plainly admit that you want his cum inside of you. as in, womb-filling placement. pregnancy-inducing, even. 

though, something’s come over you tonight. you think richter’s finally ‘fucked you stupid’ the way he always cockily threatens to. or, maybe having him settled within you just feels too good to give up so soon. you don’t want him pulling out this time, you determine. what you need is for him to stay right where he is, to keep you stuffed whole with his warm love. all you want is for him to do it— 

“inside,” is your breathless cry; a risky plea of the very thing he spends lone nights getting himself off to the thought of. richter isn't sure he heard you right— no, it must be a cruel figment of his perverse imagination. a bead of sweat's caught along his raised brow, those blue eyes of his carry a hooded glow, and his face, bearing a cutely furrowed look, grows pinker than before. 

“what?” 

“oh, god,” you whine, face gone hot. “richter, i . . .” the words melt off your tongue and fizzle into nothing. 

“you . . ?” he plays around your hesitance, drawing out the word with some light goading. you sigh rather than responding, and it’s a dramatic one, because does he really have to make you repeat yourself? richter gazes down at you expectantly as he slows his movements, finding purchase on your waist to come to an unsteady pause. his fingers drum along your sides, awaiting more clarity. 

your voice is small when you manage to confess, “ . . . i want you to cum inside of me.”

you think you can see the very moment that he fucking breaks. it’s like his resolve’s a porcelain vase, oh so delicate, and you’ve just pushed it to the floor and cracked it into a million tiny pieces. he releases this low groan, one that makes your pussy flutter at the sound of it. you can feel how rapidly his cock throbs from within you. you’re sure he’s about to paint them white. 

“shit . . . you don’t mean that.” 

“i do, rich. i want this.” 

you blink up at him, pleading with glassy eyes and the very pout that makes his heart throb. god, he wants to kiss you so messily right now. and that he does— closing in to slot his lips against yours, working his tongue down your mouth, and separating with a distinct pop! you moan against richter’s lips as his clutch on your waist intensifies. 

“you’ve gone ahead and finally drove me fucking crazy,” he thickly swallows, “you don’t know what you’ve just done to me, do you?” richter takes hold on both sides of your face, painless but firm. you mumble aloud what sounds like his name. he can’t be sure, as you’re muffled from the way his grasp is making your cheeks puff out. 

“oh, darling, you don’t.” richter seethes, knowing how you like it when he gets a little mean, “because if you did, you’d know that spewing that kind of shit will make me fuck you like a senseless animal,” his toned body is hunched over yours, eliminating any space there once was between you, “that i’d fill up this greedy little cunt until you’re overflowing with my cum,” his octave drops, tone dangerous, “that i wouldn’t be able to stop until we’ve both passed out on this goddamn bed.” 

“mmph, rich . . .” you weakly attempt, whining through your lips that he keeps pursed between his thumb and index that press into the fat of your cheeks. 

“what was that, love? you wanna be stuffed with my cum?” his tone is a mocking one, but you dumbly nod anyway. he mirrors the rocking motion of your head, amused with your desperation, “fuck yeah, you do. can feel you getting wetter at the thought of it.” 

you haven’t got it in you to feed into that typical banter with your boyfriend. you only want him to do just as he said and ‘fill you up.’ you're pawing at his bicep with one hand, and the other one clasps over the wrist of the hand he’s using to squish at your face. ‘want it,’ you start, fingers skimming across his arm, ‘so badly, rich!’ 

“fine, then. you’re such a needy thing,” he gives in, figuring you’ve endured just about enough of his teasing. richter holds himself by the base, and pulls back to trace your gaping hole with his cockhead. 

“you asked for this,” he pants out, “to be fucking bred.” 

just as before, his entrance is a smooth one; even if your grip on him is so taut that he can barely manage to move. you’re moaning again, aimlessly circling your hips in an attempt to match his movement. 

patterns repeat themselves— like richter’s desperation that always manifests itself through harsh rutting. his mind goes blank every time he’s encompassed by your sweet, warm pussy. he aches for it, for you, as though he wasn’t just indulging. he was this close to release just minutes ago. the sensitivity is still there, you notice from how his tip pulses from within you. he’s been holding out on himself, trying to make this count. 

richter dedicates the next several minutes to flipping and folding you into at least two different positions, bodies merging with a zealous haste. as always, the bed creaks and whines with every pivoted motion made upon it. nobody else is here to complain about it, so the noise is ignored rather than worried over. after all, there’s something gratifying about the sex being hard and thorough. 

there’s more fervor behind his loving this time, and it’s because he’s got the end in mind. yes, the finishing is what he anticipates; once he can finally, finally pump you full of all the cum he has to offer. and maybe— no, definitely, he’ll have you knocked up after it’s done.  

the prospect excites him more than it should; giving you a little bright-eyed belmont. richter’s always seen replenishing the sacred bloodline as a responsibility that only he alone holds. the very last one, he is. who else apart from him could return their clan to its original glory? 

a good amount of years ago, as richter can’t bring himself to remember a particular number, his mother would present him with countless tales of their infamous family. how they’d slay monsters of the night with the utmost ease, gifted with holy tools and magic of old passed down throughout the centuries. he wouldn’t like to admit how much it’s gotten to his head; or moreso, how important he sees it to expand the family tree. 

god willing, the pair of you will have babies, lots of babies, and mark the start of a new generation of vampyre slayers. it already helps that he loves to fuck you at any given chance. breeding you had always been lingering at the back of his mind, even back when the pair of you first coupled over ten months back . . . but he never really thought so deeply about it until you confessed your deep desire, and forced him to come to terms with his own. 

“thinkin’ of you pregnant,” he reveals, voice honest and vulnerable, “god, what a beautiful sight. my woman, all round and full with my love . . . ” 

“mm, that sounds— possessive,” you breathe out, body steadily rocking at the pace that richter’s set. you’re cracking your eyes open and sparing him a glance, just to see that he’s already staring back down at you. like you’re his everything, it seems. that twinkle in his eye is reserved for you only, and it makes you throb with want. 

“oh, i’m sure it does.” he doesn’t bring himself to deny it. he wants you marked by him in every possible way. for anyone to take a glance at your rounding belly months from now and just know that he touched you thoroughly and fucked you right. 

“but you should understand just how fortunate you are, baby,” he coos, “do you know how many bitches would kill for this seed you’re getting tonight? hm?” richter drones on, “you even sure you deserve it?” 

he knows full well that you do. if there’s any woman on god’s green earth that he wants to give all his love to, it’s indisputably you. he’s simply rousing you up, making you ‘earn’ it. the man likes to tease, and you can’t help but enjoy being on the receiving end. 

“well . . . you’re planning to give it to me, aren’t you?” even with him wrecking you, body sore and hair disarray, you're still able to check him. “i am,” he sighs, “and you’re gonna feel it all the way in here,” a large palm of his splays across your abdomen. from over your tummy, he feels the outline of his own cock, pressing in and sliding out before ramming it’s way back in again, courtesy of his rolling hips. 

it spurs him on to see that he doubles you in size, so much so that his dick leaves a bulge. richter bets that he’s stretching out your cunt in the nicest way— just look at how you’re taking it with hazy eyes and quivering legs. no wonder you want his cum so badly; because who else throughout all of goddamn machecoul could give you such good orgasms? which other man could possibly fill you up with such valuable seed? 

“i swear, m’gonna give you a baby,” is richter’s shaky promise, moaning throughout, and his cock throbs twice in a row. he’ll make you a carrier of the next generation of belmonts, he swears it. and oh, is he sure you’ll be an amazing mother. the thought makes his head buzz. he vividly pictures you, tender and swollen in the tummy and breasts, waddling around cutely due to carrying his very own child. he could cum just by thinking about it too hard . . . 

and he does.

“oh, god, i’m gonna— oh, fuck!” his balls constrict, his pelvis becomes tightly-strung, and before he knows it, he’s emptying his thick load inside of you. 

“yes, rich . . . give it to me,” you softly purr, allowing him to ease his weight onto you as he shudders from the high and his limbs go weak. from where he has his face smushed against your cushiony chest, he bites at your left breast while cumming some more. it spurts out in hot streams, accompanied by the twitching of his sensitive dick. he lazily humps against you, and a bit of semen seeps past your cunt, trickles down the length of him, and pours out onto the sheets beneath. you knew it’d be satiating to be filled to the brim. 

he feels like he could fall asleep right here atop of you. even with his head’s swimming in a thick cloud of lust, and though the aftermath of his climax lingers, he’s still able to deliver slow rubs to your little bud.

“hope you’re ready for another,” he reaches down between you and swiping his graceful fingers across it, “because we aren’t fucking done yet.”

you hardly get a chance to bask in how nicely he’s loaded your womb, or the delightful tingle he brings when playing with your clit. richter, always a step ahead, uses his small bit of remaining energy to sit upwards with his back to the bedpost, and hauls you onto him so that you’re straddled over him just the way he likes. he gets the best view of your jiggling boobs this way.

“of course you still have it in you,” you lightly laugh. given his endurance, richter’s usually able to maximize his stamina through plenty of rounds. “i also wouldn’t mind being filled a second time . . .” you set your forehead to rest against his, bringing up a hand to swipe hair away from his gorgeous eyes, “i liked it.”

“and i loved it,” he’s quick to admit, “should’ve been finishing inside you long before now.”

you smile over his comment and wiggle your ass over his semi hard-on, growing stiffer with every sway of your breasts in his face. his hands are busy holding you from either side, so you go out of your way to stroke along his cum-dirtied cock, white dripping alongside it. he groans at your touch as you help him in finding your entrance. your mouth falls open when sinking down on him, and he rushes to lick and suck at your lips. for the third time tonight, he makes himself at home in your inviting cunt. 

and so, it begins again; his ceaseless tempo. your partner's grasp is hot and strong, pulling you off and slamming you back down onto him however he pleases. you cry out for more, and he’s capable of giving it to you, so he does. richter pistons up into you— out, in, out, in, molding you to shape the very curve of his veined cock. blush colored a fiery pink scatters his face from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. 

“again, richter,” you gasp out, “cum inside me again . . !” oh, just look at that. now he’s built you a rotten little addiction. from here on out, you’ll probably always be left craving the fulfillment gained from him dumping his load into your pussy. personally, he doesn’t mind sating you. if it eases your mind and satisfies your heart, of course. after all, he’s surely developed a new kink of his own after tonight.  

“oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you, cockslut?” his fingers dip between your bodies to slide against your clit once more, “to let me impregnate you again, and again, and again . . .” he punctuates his sharp words with the lurch of his sturdy hips, knocking up into you until you’re jolting in his lap, breasts bouncing against his solid chest. 

he doesn’t mean to come across in an offish way, or sound so mean. it’s just that when he gets like this, with your warm body so pliant at his fingertips, his mouth just tends to . . . run. more than usual, he supposes. the belmont just says whatever comes to mind, no matter how vulgar. 

richter’s bright blue eyes follow the motion of your tits with every thrust. he slams in, hips pressed to you as close as it can get. he’s burrowed into you so deeply that his curly patch of dark pubes friction against your bundle of nerves. he’s twitching at the underside for every time your velvety walls suck him in further. you’re trying to milk him fucking dry, he believes. 

there’s only so much stimulation that the pair of you can take in one night alone. 

‘goddammit’ he grits out. before long, richter’s fucking you full of another stream of cum. his orgasm, hot and blinding, triggers your own; you’re creaming all over him, wetting his cock with the juices you squirt out. you’re sobbing out his name and shaking in his lap, so he holds you. a secure hand of his comes up and cradles your head to his chest, stroking your hair and calming your spent body, even as the orgasmic waves rush through you. 

a silence comes over his quaint little room, where the ambience was once intense with the steamy air of sex. a chill autumn breeze blows its way through the cracked-open window, cooling your sweat-sheen skin. his dusty-blue sheets are stained with all kinds of suggestive white fluids, and the bed has stopped making all that noise. 

you’re still placed over his thighs in the same straddling stance, one you both feel much too tired to get out of. he tries at maneuvering so he can lie on his back, with you motionlessly laid over him. your breathing is soft and winded, but your heart’s beating fast. he can feel it, with the way your chest is pressed to his own in this position. 

richter eventually slips out, and you whine once he leaves you. he peers down and groans at the spillage of his potent cum, pearly and warm, dripping from your messy little cunt in thick globs. ‘christ,’ he thinks, ‘it’s so fucking much.’  

he presses a kiss to your forehead, and it stirs you from the sleep you were just about to fall into. “what do you say to me, darling?” 

“hmm . . what?” after all those rounds, you’re not here mentally, and he knows it— he’s why. but with the light smirk his lips hold, you’re finally able to get it. he’s waiting for a: 

“t—thank you,” you murmur out, and he tsks.

“oh, c’mon, be specific. thank you for what?” 

he's simply insufferable. oh, but you love the man, so you'll let him have his way, just for tonight.

“thank you for . . giving me your cum, richter . . .”

he hums in what appears to be satisfaction. it sounds like the prettiest set of words when falling from your lips. he’d fuck you again if the both of you weren’t completely spent. 

richter brings a hand to support the back of his head, propping it up a little higher than the pillows can. you snuggle into him, face nuzzling against the firm comfort of his chest, and he throws his arm over your waist, feeling at the plush skin there with a wandering touch. 

his palm slides a bit further down, now planted gently against your stomach. it’ll start to grow in a little while, and get real big and plump with your baby fostering inside. maybe they’ll have your nose and complexion, with his eyes and attitude . . . he lets a grin overtake his lips, feeling more than accomplished. 

“you’re a lucky fucking woman,” richter coos, hand lovingly rubbing over your tummy, “you’re gonna be carryin’ belmont blood now.”

tags go out to . . . ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ @blushfwul @springmarcheson @missmagicalprincess @kaennih-skitlles @divin3bloodlines! hope y’all enjoyed, mwuah! ❤︎

©𝑃ℐ𝒩𝒦ℳℐℛ𝒯ℋ! — all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ౨ৎ

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Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Baby Fever

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You love watching Joel adapt to being a dad so effortlessly. You make it your mission tonight to give him another baby, whether he wants to or not.

Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding kink, ovulating reader, dubish-con for Joel but he ain't complainin', cum eating, ball sucking, oral both male and female receiving, cowgirl / riding, missionary, rough sex, dom! reader, slight sub!Joel if you squint, mentions of condoms (wow rare one for me huh--no plz wrap it up), Daddy kink

18+ ONLY

- - - -

It’s probably the first time Joel has absolutely no care for Sunday night football. Instead, you watch with heart eyes as he lies against the opposite couch, head propped only by a pillow. He’s exhausted today. Grunting when he finally collapsed on the couch, sighing heavily as his joints ached and cracked. His eyes are puffy, near closed and fighting sleep. It’s been a restless 7 months for him just as much as you.

Meanwhile, wide eyed, giggly , and conveniently 7-month-old Sarah has become obsessed with Daddy Miller now. She sits in her diaper on Joel’s chest, watching him with admiration. A big curious smile plastered on her face as she bounces and slaps his face with her uncoordinated hands. 

They’re just looking at one another, in their own world. She brings a fat bitty palm on his cheek, watching the way it smushes his whiskered skin each time she rubs. Almost about to giggle with fascination, she instead decides to adjusts herself hunched over his face. Joel chuckles with her. He makes pouty fish faces, and she bursts into laughter each time. 

You watch as her little finger hooks into his mouth. “Ow!” He says softly, faking pain. She laughs again and smashes her cheek onto his scruffy beard. Sitting back again, she just looks down in awe. 

Your heart could burst right now. They pay no attention to you in the room, but you could watch them all night if you could. A gentle, heartwarming thrum tugs at your chest. 

This. This is what it’s all about. This is what your mom meant all those years. You would never have understood her words about family, about love, about the greatest moments of your life being the smallest, simplest ones too, like sitting in the living room together quietly.

And Joel—Joel being so incredibly perfect like this. He’s graying and his grouchy and he’s got bags under his eyes, but this moment makes him the perfect husband. The perfect father. The perfect person you could see every morning and fall in love with every time. It makes your body jittery with excitement on impulse now.

Sarah knee’s forward a little too much, her chunky knee falling onto Joel’s jugular. She laughs loudly as he chokes, his hands coming to grasp her securely from falling. Her bum scootches back on Joel’s chest as she sits up, patting his eyes affectionately. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and blows kisses to her.

The baby bares her gummy mouth and tiny teeth back. She pets his cheek gently, watching him closely. Her little eyes working over every detail, almost like she’s etching him to memory. The different colors and textures, features like the point of his knows and the crinkle of his forehead. Her big head falls forward, forehead bumping his eye again. 

You laugh as Joel squints. Unfortunate for him, she props herself on a wiggly ankle and then completely launches her whole body over his face. Joel yelps from below and starts blowing air into her belly, making farting noises as she erupts into a fit of loud squeals and wiggles. The squirmy wormy fat belly keeps getting gobbled up by Joel’s playful eating.  He lifts her like she weighs nothing, because truthfully she does, and sets her bum back on his chest.

Little Sarah can’t be kept away from Daddy for long, and she immediately hunches over his head again and stares into his eyes. Eventually she settles along his shoulder. She smushes her chubby smooth cheek against his rough, scratchy one. His whole head is almost the size of her, but it doesn’t both either of them. She’s so at home with him so close. 

You wave to her and whisper “Wanna come to Mommy?” with open arms.

She giggles like that’s sooo fucking funny before rubbing her face on Joel’s lips to say nah uh. She sneezes once, thankfully on his beard rather than eyeballs, before tucking herself against his neck and slowly closes her eyes, falling asleep on Daddy. 

A few more minutes pass until Joel can tell she’s completely out. Her body curled up like a pill bug, a bit of drool starting to creep its way into his nostrils. It’s time to put her to bed.

Joel carefully cradles her into his arms and lifts himself up from the couch. He takes his babygirl, the softest, warmest, most delicate thing he’s ever held with his callused hands, all the way down to her bedroom. His palms cupped tightly under her bum while the other caresses her back, her cheek against his collarbone as she sleeps soundly.

With utmost care and precision that he’s practiced a million times, he puts her into the crib. She lays out on her back and stretches comfortably without stirring. With his hand the size of her entire torso, he always rests it against her to feel each big inhale of air filling her belly and lungs before exhaling. Marveled that this little tiny thing alive and real, here, every day like the most miraculous thing in the cosmos, and its all because of you. 

He’ll never get over it. Never go a day seeing her without thinking she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Nothing he’s ever made with his hands—not this crib or this room, that rocking chair, the bear he stitched up, nor the ceiling fan or table downstairs that he built from years steady craftsmanship—nothing will ever come close to the love and pride that fills him when he sees this little thing right here. His daughter. His babygirl. His whole life now.

He’d stay in here forever and watch her from above like some creep if he could. Instead, Joel leans down and plants a soft kiss on her forehead, brushing her curly hair before carefully sliding out of the room and cracking the door.

He’s barely pulled away from the door knob when aggressive hands yank him back and push him against the opposite wall with such force, he nearly shouts. Picture frames shudder crookedly as wet lips attach themselves to his own. 

Joel’s never been pinned to a wall like this, but he’s not opposed to the way desperate, famished whimpers translate from your mouth to his, the way your tongue forces its way to glide over his teeth and tangle with his. Your hands wring the collar of his shirt in tight fists, and his back keeps getting smashed against the wall each time he tries to lean closer to you.

“W-mm-wha—mmmm-mmfff!—what are you—?“

“I want another one,” you growl. He shivers at how wracked your voice is. Beyond desperate, beyond control and savagely hungry. “Right. Now.”

He furls his brows. “W—?“ but you immediately latch yourself onto him again. 

His hands gently cup right above your ass, trying to be intimately appropriate, but you have other ideas. Your palms splay on his chest as you scratch your nails down to his crotch. Immediately fisting his rapidly hardening length out of his sweatpants. Joel’s head falls back against the picture frames.  He groans softly as you begin to pump him. Your tongue swipes your lips with a devilish grin, feeling him swell.

“Don’t you wanna put a baby in me?” You coo. Little nips to his lips don’t phase him, nor your words, as he slowly falls apart.

“Fuck—shit—“ he rasps. “But you just—“ he glances down to Sarah’s cracked bedroom down the hall. And how you specifically said you weren’t ready to try for another kid until Sarah was at least 3. “What has gotten into you??”

“Your seed—hopefully soon,” you smirk. 

He’s struggling to keep his trail of thoughts as you spit in your hand and continue to jerk him off expertly. Despite his size, the sheer force of your conviction right now has him pinned helplessly as you kiss and fist him.

“I—“

“Cmon Daddy, don’t you wanna make me a Mommy again? Get me all knocked up and show me off, how much you like breeding me…”

Joel Miller is not a strong man. Maybe he can lug concrete and lumber all day, pull wasp stingers and blisters from his own hands, carry a pregnant woman who’s gained 50 pounds in milkshakes alone—but god he’s a weak weak man for you when you’re like this. The greatest danger of all:

“Shit, are you ovulating???”

To his horror, you nod eagerly. 

You get to your knees quickly, and he sees how blown your pupils are staring up at his erect length. The little bob in your neck as you pinch the tip, licking the salty precum from your fingers. 

“I don’t think this is a good—“

All his words evaporate from his mind the second you wrap your lips around his fucking balls. He grits his teeth and slams his head back against the wall, fighting the demons, particularly the one on her knees right now who’s generously sucking each one into her mouth.

With one hand pumping his cock over your forehead, your tongue swilrs and massages his sack. Suckling and releasing them with a pop before transferring to the other. 

He covers his mouth with a slap. 

Christ, you’re literally prepping them. Getting his seed ready and raring for your eggs to accept with loving arms.

You cup them in your warm hands, continuing their massage as your mouth engulfs his dick. bobbing your head obscenely, you take his tip to the back of your throat. The pressure on his mouth tightens from the whine burrowed in his throat when his tip nudges your esophagus like its nothing, squeezing around him before pulling away again in the tight heat of your skilled mouth.

He can’t compete. Can’t think. Not when you’re sucking him off like the tastiest, juiciest hot wings, all meat slurped clean from the bone in a single suck. 

His eyes feel hazy as you work him, gargled noises filling his hears. He wants to blow his load. Yeah, maybe that’s it. He’ll cum down your throat right now, and you won’t get any—

As if reading his thoughts, you pull off his throbbing cock. A wet string of saliva connecting his tip to your lips. You look so gorgeously sinful right now: swollen lipped and crazy eyed. 

He’s in serious trouble.

Inhuman strength yanks him down the hall and into your bedroom like a leashed dog. You chunk him on the bed, his back bouncing once before you’re shoving him down, crawling over his body and pinning him like a wooden slat.

No. Bad bad bad idea. 

‘Maybe…” he gulps. You don’t listen as you pull his pants all the way down to his ankles—effectively keeping them trapped around the fabric so he can’t get away.  “—I should get the condom…”

Your head snaps to him with an angered snarl. 

He tentatively reaches for your face, but you snatch him down and pin his hand above the bed. “Fuck your condoms,” you growl.

He nods fearfully. He prays to the horny devil, who overcomes women once a month and helps procreate the human race, to please have mercy on his wife and release her from the chokehold possession the demon has wrapped around her.

He didn’t even notice when you had striped your underwear, but your naked pussy is already slobbering atop his tip. He gasps at the warm, wet drool, thick like syrup, coating his tip. You giggle vivaciously and begin to rub it between your folds.  “You ready for it, baby?” You coo. “You’re gonna give me another one, Daddy. Right. Now.”

You soften just a bit, if possible with carnivorous crave licking your tongue over your teeth. “I’ll take care of everything, just sit there and let Mommy handle the breeding.”

WeakWeakWeakWEAK fucking man, Joel Miller.

You gasp loudly as you sink down onto his pulsing length. Joel’s whole body goes taught, the veins in his neck strained so tight they may burst before his cock does.

“Ugghrrmmgmgmmmmhgggffff Fuck yeah, Shit, that’s sooooooo fucking good, Joel, Fill me up, been needing this fat cock buried in my tight pussy all fucking night. Oh my god!” You squeal, quickly bouncing up and down on him until your ass is slapping his thighs. 

F-F-f-f-f-f-f-f-fuuuuucccckkkkkkk.” He daringly tilts forward to see you hungrily riding his dick back and forth, your hips working so effortlessly. Tongue lolled out with a big grin on your face.

“Fuckin love watching you be a Daddy! M’gonna take it, take your fucking cum in my fertile little cunt until I’m bursting with your baby again.”

He needs to tell you that you need to heal more first. That you’re still tired, and new as a mom, and freshly off the first child. But when he sees your tits jumping up and down with each movement, the way they’re still heavy and forever changed from the last time he knocked you up, he keeps his lips shut, except for the huffs of pleasure flowering in his body.

You’re bouncing fast for his seed. Not even god’s entire army of angles could deny this. He thinks about how your droopy tummy right now reminds him of when you were first starting to show while pregnant with Sarah, and the realization only then that you were really pregnant dawned on him. It was the period of best sex because he could still be rough with you, but admire that tiny swell that he put inside of you. Reminds him of right now, that he could do it all over again right fucking now and you’re letting him. So greedy and desperate for it, just for him to flood your womb with more cum and more babies and—

Fuck, fuck don’t cum Miller. 

But the image of your swollen body again, milky fat tits and wide hips  accepting him—shit no that’s making it worse!

Ok—he thinks about the 9 months straight of pure hell: your attitude, demands, yelling, crying, exhaustion. How bitchy and annoying you get, pushing him past his envelope to serve your needy wants until he’s over the edge and pins ya both right back in this exact position with him pounding the shit out of you—

He thrusts his hips up and grasps your waist. Taking over and fucking up into you because the thought of Pregnant Wife You all over again and needing to take care of you once more has him in a feral deathtrap.

You yelp as Joel flips the two of you over. Your thighs fall even further apart as he completely slots his body between them and goes to pound down on your cunt. “Oh SHIT OH FUCKYESDADDY!” You cry with a smile, arms slinging over his shoulders to hold him down close to you.

You keen, so high and dumb you’re begging for it. Legs wrapped around him securely with no room to pull out. 

He grunts anomalistically, over and over again with each fast rut into you. Your fingers grip his hair tightly and pull his face next to yours. “You’re gonna fucking cum inside me,” you growl through bared teeth. He fucks you faster. Eyes so dilated, heart pressed against yours like a race. 

“Fill me up baby, breed me—breedmebreed-breed-breedmeDaddy fuck oh my god yesyesyesyesYES!”

He can’t stop his hips from moving, can’t stop the delicious plunge of his angry dick into your sweet sweet tight slit. He probably looks ridiculous—knees spread so wide on the mattress to really dig each thrust deep inside, wearing only a T shirt with his ass and swollen balls hanging out and humping desperately into your mound. 

He hisses through clenched teeth into your neck, cheeks puffing out with each blow. You keep encouraging him with more naughty thoughts of making him Daddy over and over and over again and any sane man would be insane right now. 

He’s thought about breeding you every day since you even found out you were expecting. He mourns the loss of your pregnant glow. Joel loves you, beautiful each day, but something about seeing his wife swell with the clear evidence of his love, her own body and mind changing by the minute because of him …he wants you pregnant again. For the rest of your life. Stuffed full of his kids. Round and fertile like a goddess. Once he got a taste of you like that, no husband would ever miss the chance to do it again. 

He wants it so badly, so little clarity left in him that is screaming ‘pulloutpulloutpulloutpullout’ as he pounds pounds pounds your womb. He may break his jaw from how tightly clenched he is. Nothing matters more than giving you exactly what you’re begging for.

He grunts even louder, and you tighten your legs around him even more, knowing he’s close. 

“Oh fuckFUCK Yes Baby give it to me!!—FUcking cum, Daddy oh shit—oh RIGHT—RIGHT FUCKING THERE! Come inside, I know you wanna Daddy just fucking cum in my little womb, let’s make a fucking baby, knock me up right now!!”

He shouts, and fate grants him mercy at the last possible second; his cock slips out and nudges itself along your ass as he spills his load onto your slit and the bedsheets.

You shake your head and start swearing, but he’s still on top of you, whining and jerking with each pulse of seed that is just shooting like a geyser from his tip. He lets out a long moan, closing his eyes. His cock twitches a few more times before finally going empty.

He sits back just a bit, trying to even his breathing. Joel Miller has never been so overwhelmed by an orgasm before that he loses sense of where he is for a few seconds. All covered in sweat, his heart rate dangerously high from such a fantastic cum.

He hazily opens his eyes to see you scooping his cum from your ass and the mattress, dragging it up along your slit and pushing as much of his cream into as you can salvage.

“NO!” He shouts, quickly grabbing your wrists and pinning them to your side. You wail out, physically squirming and trying to wiggle from his grasp. He watches you thrash madly but to no avail. Your poor cunt clenches and unclenches, his probably trying to make its way from your folds to your womb right now…

Joel quickly bends down, hands still firmly on your wrists, and puts his mouth on your cunt. You gasp out, strained and pathetic, as he begins to suck out of his seed from your slit. For good measures, he licks it from your crack and ass too, everything rapidly being scooped by his talented tongue gulped down his throat, away from your dangerous eggs.

Your heels come up along his back and press down hard. He shouts into your cunt when you cum. Clit twitching like a heartbeat while your much needed orgasm rolls through you. Your walls clench so tightly around nothing, you can’t help but whimper at the loss despite shaking through the euphoria for so long. Joel does what he can, working his tongue through it all until your sounds get softer, more satisfied. 

“Euughh—salty,” he says with a shiver, wiping his lips clean of all his and your cum. You both pant together with the last ebb of your orgasms settling.

“You alright, babe?” 

Tears begin to well in your eyes. Lips trembling with a pathetic mewl spilling past your lips.

It takes 3 seconds of Joel hugging you close before feels you begin to hump his thighs.

“Honey—Honey please don’t cry, its just—you get this way when you’re ovulating, and ya’d be mad at me if I actually did breed you—“

You nod solemnly despite wiping your tears and burning your face into your hands. No he’s right. you weren’t thinking straight. So horny and desperate to be filled, you didn’t think anything through it. Just needed him balls deep emptying every bit of sperm into you like you were made for nothing else.

“Oh—oh no—“

Joel snatches your arms and throws you off him. He quickly snatches his pants and runs out the door, closing it behind him. You slam against the frame and shout, “GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING COCK, MILLER!”

You nuzzle your face into his shirt and inhale, getting yourself high on his scent while your slick pussy does a number on him. Your smooth, seductive, temptress voice nearly lulls him under your spell again: “Fuck—fuck Daddy—can we do it one more time—please?My pussy—she’s so—nnnmm—feels so empty…I’ll—ugghhhhhh oo ff-ff—fuuccckkk—I’ll let you—ah—haaa!—pull out—“

He yanks back. “THE HELL YOU WILL.”

He holds the knob tight despite its aggressive rattling. Joel quickly ties his sweatpants legs from the door handle to the hallway guard rail, stretched to keep them at odds and effectively locking you in. 

“Not till you behave!” 

He hears you go quiet for a moment before you erupt into a long wail like a baby. At the same time, poor little Sarah can’t handle all this raucous, awakening from her sleep and crying through the cracked bedroom.

Joel wipes his face, knowing he’s done the right thing. But now at the cost of an irritated baby that’s gonna make him carry her all night, he’s reconsidering having just pumped you full in the first place and calling it a day.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Reader Headcanons

Warning: Fem!Reader, Slight NSFW

A/N: If you don’t want Reader to be Fem! you can ignore. I’m more than content with that, and will do my best to keep Reader GN! in the main story.

Reader looks remarkably like Martha Wayne. She has the same grey eye color, dark curly hair, cheekbones, and chin. But, the rest is all her Momma.

Reader is from a small town in Louisiana. Somewhere outside of Lafayette.

Reader is of Creole and Cajun decent from her Momma’s side of the family. (There is a difference between the two. I also like to keep the skin tone ambiguous because of this.)

She has a Louisiana accent. (Gotham’s very own Southern Bell.)

Reader can speak French. Not completely fluent, but almost.

Reader prefers spicy food. Has a love for beignets too, due to shop in the Smalltown giving her a free one whenever she stopped by.

Reader is itty bitty titty committee member! She still got some meat on her, but she doesn’t have knockers. (I just want some small chested thick girl representation. Not a stick, just no tits.)

Reader can sing and play the guitar, not like a rockstar or some professional. Just fun and heartfelt.(Music vibes are the Crane Wives and Delta Rae.)

Reader loves fairs. Love’s the food, the music, the rides, the shows, the animals. Favorite part, cheating at the games.

Secretly is a Trekkie due to Daddy and Younger Brother’s influence. (I call Younger Brother Jean-Luc or Lukie-Boy in my head.)

Reader is more of tactician then most people realize. (Wayne genetics are strong.)

Do not let the innocent Smalltown charm fool you. Momma was a petty person and Reader takes after Martha Wayne in more than just looks. (And, in one universe, Martha Wayne becomes the Joker. Not saying that Reader will, but the tactical mindset is there.)

Reader can and is willing to play up kinks and flirt for tactical reasons. Will use Rizz to advantage. (Probably won’t use this in the story, but the idea is there.)

Reader is not a physical fighter. Too squishy and only slightly more flexible than average.

Is slightly spoiled. She didn’t grow up impoverished. (Smalltown wealthy is barely equal to Gotham middle class, though.)

Below is a doodle I made of Reader. I’m a bit out of practice. I’m serious, I barely have time to draw in recent years and legit just bought a sketch pad yesterday to get this out of my system.

[cubbihue]

chimmy changa timmy, why do you hate muffins? am I missing some of the lore?

Timmy doesn't like how they taste. No matter who, how or where they're made, the muffins are all the same to him. It's frustrating because he knows they shouldn't be.

And each time he walks away feeling immense disappointment. Like something should've happened.

He does his best to avoid eating them, but, Timmy found that people react weirdly when you say you don't like muffins. So he eats them anyways. He's unfortunately surrounded by muffin-nuts.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[kedreeva]

This is Eris (left, 2020) and her younger half-brother, Bismuth (right, 2023)

This is Citrine (left, 2023) and her full brother, Bismuth (right, 2023)

I've talked a lot about how breeding and care matters so hugely to these birds, but I think this is a really obvious example.

When it comes to choosing breeders, 99.9999% of breeders I've seen and spoken to are mainly looking at the males and how pretty their colors are, and largely ignoring the hens. "Any" hen will do- I RARELY see people being choosy. Maybe they don't know how to be, maybe they think it doesn't matter - the hens are not as flashy, so what difference could there really be? - maybe they just don't care, maybe it's hard to find nice ones anyway because people don't care. I don't know. Once in a while I see people going gaga over a nice spalding hen with a lot of color on her, but by and large, they're ignored.

These three birds share a father. Indie is a beautiful boy, and he held his color very well, but honestly his train carriage left a lot to be desired and he was pretty small compared to my own birds. Regardless, he made a few really nice kids, including Amber (Bug), Bismuth, and Citrine (The Trio). He also fathered Eris, Opal, and Onyx, though not with my hens and not on property.

And here's where we get to the point. This is Eris' mom, Sasha:

And here is The Trio's mom, Aurora:

Sasha was itty bitty, with a small head, and very short legs. She also didn't have particularly good color- almost none, if I'm being honest, and her train carriage was Not Great. Aurora, on the other hand, while not as leggy as her offspring (which is partially due to feed... I raised her from 3mo old 15 years ago when 'game bird feed' didn't exist and the recommended "best" feed option was chicken layer feed mixed with kitten chow... atrocious by today's standards), still has pretty good type and excellent color. She typically carries her train high, she's spurred, she's Big. She's also an EXCELLENT mother and broody.

On top of having Sasha for a mom, Eris was raised in a brooder, and later in a small pen, and on feed that was 18% protein (instead of the 26-30% they should be on). She didn't have the space early on to use her leg and wing muscles, and it shows in her type. Even though i got her when she was just a couple of months old, those first few months are crucial to their development. Feed and environment can only go so far though.

Anyway, you can see the difference in breeding and care here. Eris is short, stout, short necked, and her rump curves down. Her face, particularly her beak length, is short like her mother's. It's hard to see in the photo, but I assure you her neck lacing is thick/muddy. In contrast, Citrine has thin, clean lacing, she's nearly as leggy as her brother, her neck has richer and more purple color, and her rump does not curve down- you can see the bend where her tail begins and is held down. She's also quite slender/racy in body type, like a good game bird should be, rather than heading toward the stout body type of domestication.

I can tell people that hen choice and care/environment matters until I'm blue in the face, but honestly, I think having comparison photos really brings it home.

[mundoperla]

What about… RZ Michael Myers doing something unholy, like he’s really horny, with his fem friend (also a patient) at the Smith’s Grove? Like in some corridor or smth 👀 Wall sex, whaaat???

Would be grateful and on my knees, thanks 🙏

this got me kicking my feet in the air like a schoolgirl rn

& its my favorite michael??? ofc im abt to tackle this tf😩💜

𝙍𝙕 𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙚𝙡 𝙈𝙮𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙋𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

— No matter how many cameras there are, there will always be blind spots.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

you see the title bitties here are the warnings vv

⚠️⚠️cws;; basically public sex, wall sex ofc, michael being HORNY, p in v but i think thats kind of expected, overall that nasty shit (lighthearted)⚠️⚠️

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

Despite his lack of communication, Michael made your stay at Smith’s Grove much more pleasant. He never acted out or caused any type of problems when you first arrived, he’d been relatively calm for quite some time now. Always alone in his room, no sound, no nothing, just him making masks in silence.

It was his creativity that sparked your initial interest in him in the first place. His walls were cover from top to bottom in the masks he’d make in his alone time, many ranging from different colors and shapes. Truthfully he never wanted to interact with you whenever you’d make a quick pass by his room to go somewhere on the other side of the hospital, there was a point in time where he found you annoying even.

Yet no matter how much time passed you’d still swing by with a quick ‘hello!’. It escalated to a point where you would linger on the other side of his door and hold up one sided conversations with him, of course him never responding to you verbally. It was alright though, body language is able to tell you enough.

You did all of the talking for the two of you, which all though he never spoke aloud, he appreciated. He hasn’t spoken in years and by the looks of it he wasn’t going to any time soon. Trust me, Dr. Loomis has tried.

You were no threat to Michael to begin with, he had no reason to dismiss you unless he had become tired of your company; which very rarely happened. He was surprisingly as patient as you were with him, perhaps this was his own way of saying ‘thank you’.

The two of you were almost like a joined pair after he had grown slightly more comfortable around you, if you went somewhere—Michael followed, if Michael went somewhere — you would follow. It was shocking to everyone that he’d show even such a small form of attachment to another living being without brutally murdering it. Of course in the early stages of your ‘friendship’ the two of you were heavily monitored before you could be permitted to be in spaces together alone with just a nurse on standby.

“ I’m gonna go ask one of the doctors if I can have another juice, you want one too ? ”

Michael won’t verbally respond, but he will turn his eyes down to the floor at your question.

“ Alright so that’s a no. Sit tight I’ll be right back. ”

He watched you sit up from the table the two of you sat at, disappearing into one of the many hallways. He had originally got up to go and follow you like he always did, but something inside him told him not to, it had told him something else.

He ever so slightly considered you as some kind of companion, but he wanted you as something else. You were very beautiful to him and some of the other patients on your side of the building, it’s normal to think someone is nice looking. Yet he’d catch himself staring a bit too hard when you would do the simplest of things such as drinking some water or even when you stretched and a sliver of your stomach would be exposed. Was it also normal to have these filthy thoughts directed towards a so-called ‘friend’?

The bulge in his pants grew ever so larger the longer he sad and pondered. He needed to ‘fix’ this before you came back and saw. Would you think he was disgusting if you did see him this way? Surely you would.

You had come back to your shared table empty handed only to see that Michael was gone, maybe he’d gone back to his room? He could be tired, nothing wrong with just a quick swing by his door and wish him goodnight.

There were quite a few cameras the closer you got to Michael’s room, just as you turn into the corridor large hands yank you from the entrance to a darker corner of the hall. You’d mentally braced yourself to be strangled by this unknown person, but familiar blonde strands of hair loomed above you, of course the orange mask eased the tension much more.

Michael silently stared down at you, you could just barely see his sky blue eyes behind the paper mask. But now left the following questions, why was he just waiting in the corner? why is he now all of a sudden making actual physical contact with you? Truthfully one could only imagine the worst in the sense of it being correlated with him of all people, but the worst never came.

You’d opened your mouth to speak but you’re immediately silenced by the feeling of his erection pressing itself into your ass. He was rubbing himself against you now, still as silent as ever, showing no sign of satisfaction.

“ Mike- Michael! There’s cameras, we can’t do this here, we could get caught.. ”

Of course he doesn’t give you a verbal response, but this time will give you a slow twirl of his finger, telling you to look around you. There weren’t any cameras that could catch you in their line of sight, and the one camera that was much closer than the rest faced the opposite direction where you had originally been grabbed.

He was telling you it was safe to continue, you were clear to unfold. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t the slightest bit aroused as him, maybe even more. Using his cold hands to slide under your shirt so he could squeeze the soft flesh of your breasts, to then slowly migrate under the fabric of your pants to rub you through your underwear. You’d began to grind back into him, trying to pull down his own pants down as well as your own so the two of you could ease this tension much quicker.

Michael had fantasized about how you would feel around his cock, the way you would squeeze him and the sounds you could make when he started to thrust, he couldn’t live with the possibility of another person pleasuring you instead of him. He needed to be the one to take you, you may not be aware but you’re in fact his and his only. Maybe he liked you alot more than what he initially thought.

Your body trembled as Michael moved your body slightly so you were now fully pressed against the wall with him standing behind you, one hand held you in place by the hip whilst the other began to align himself against your hole, knowing him there will be no auditory warning that he’d be sliding in. You’re not a pussy, you could take him, couldn’t you ?

Both of your hands rested on the white brick walls, truthfully you weren’t even sure he was going to fit inside. He’s taking his sweet time behind you. You’re really about to become his in a dark corner that surveillance could not reach, this could have been much better under different circumstances, but neither of you could chose the have sex in a different location at this time, you’ll take what you can get.

The stretch that followed after an agonizing 15 seconds of the man behind you pondering could be considered as beyond painful, your hand quickly covering your mouth to muffle your whimpers. He can feel your walls clamp around him, gushing uncontrollably by the sudden rush of pleasure. He’s not even halfway inside you yet, but you’ve got his pelvis and a small bit of the floor wet now, clearly you wanted this as much as he did.

You don’t get the luxury of Michael stopping in his tracks to let you breathe before he continues to push himself into you, however you get the honor or him bending himself over enough to cover your mouth with his own hands instead of your own. Now you just had to focus on keeping yourself steady while he takes what’s his.

You’d think he had never hear the word ‘gentle’ in his lifetime. His thrusts were fast yet also powerful, despite his hands covering your mouth small moans still escaped. He had just started yet you felt so fucked out already, your legs trembling, your juices dribbling down your thigh and back down onto the floor.

He fucks you like you’re a fleshlight, dominantly chasing his own high but still trying to get you to come undone as well. He’s intentionally trying to break you as much as possible before the two of you have to eventually wrap up, his hands shy away from your mouth, one to slither down to toy with your clit whilst the other grips onto one of your tits as he continues to pound himself into your cunt like a man possessed. He makes it impossible not to scream but you are aware to still keep your voice down as much as possible.

“ Michael.. Keep moving just like that.. I’m so- Fuck.. ”

Your voice had continued to quiver the longer he kept going, the coil in your belly was about to snap once again. Michael considered finishing inside as some kind of ‘mark’ to leave behind, but he could always wait for another time to have that visual. For right now it was your ass that he had decided on, he’d still get a satisfactory visual of himself on you.

Practically yanking himself out of you just as you had came, his warmth begins to coat your skin. You’re lightheaded and you could feel your legs about to give out as Michael let go of you. Silently admiring his ‘art’, he’d wiped a smudge of his mess off of you with his finger, bringing it up to your lips. It was sweet but also bitter, it was him. He could leave you here to clean yourself up so he could go back to his room, but based off of how you were struggling to keep yourself up, maybe he could just take you back to your own room before departing for the night.

He had taken the time to get you dressed back up as well as himself, pulling you out of the corridor down to the hallway opposite to your own room. Your hand felt so small in his, he was intimidating to many people, but you ? There was an odd sense of security from being this close to Michael. He stood with you for a brief moment after arriving to your room, with him he could have just been there to stare at you a while longer or he was silently examining you to get a clear visual that you were okay to be left on your own now. Could have just been both.

He was exhausted now, but also mildly flustered. So much had just happened and he could barely process it. He’s turned to walk back down to his own room so that you could get some sleep as well, but is quickly stopped buy the force of you clinging yourself onto one of his arms tightly.

“ Goodnight Mikey, we should definitely do that again at some point. ”

You’re hardly standing up straight yet you’ve asked him to.. again, too much to process. But he will take your request into consideration.

┉ˏ͛ ༝̩̩̥͙ ⑅͚˚　　 ҉　　⑅͚˚ ͛༝̩̩̥͙ ˎ┉

apologies if the ending is messy i have no clue how to properly conclude shit i tried my best

[quinnysnursery]

Can you do a fic on reader being both little!Chris and little!matts caregiver

-🧡

[🩹🥤] what it’s like being chris and matt's CG

paring : little!chris x cg!reader x little!matt

divider credit : me! i made it!

a/n : sleepy :c (lower case intended !)

🩹 first of all, your ears will constantly be filled with

🦈 "mama! mama!/dada! dada!/baba! baba!"

🫧 sharing is...a work in progress

🥤 "baby, matt asked for the car plate, so he's getting the car plate." "but he doesn't even LIKE cars >:C" "i do! :C" (he doesn't)

💫 eventually you have to set certain colors for them,

🤍 orange for chris, blue for matt

🩹 their different headspace ranges being EVIDENT

🦈 chris being super energetic, around 5-7

🫧 and matt being just a itty bitty thing, around 3-5

🥤 "matt! come play w'if me!" ":c watchin' mooovies!"

💫 that does NOT mean the mattitude is gone though,

🤍 or their sibling bickering

🩹 "no! my mama/dada/baba!" "nuh uh >:C" "yuh huh!" "nuh uh!" "yu-" "boys!"

🦈 constantly reminding chris to "watch the baby"

🫧 "chris! careful around the baby!" "o.o"

🥤 this starts chris calling matt "the baby" /pos

💫 "the baby is hungry!" "i am!" "the baby and i wanna watch cars!" "we do!!"

🤍 your heart melting at chris helping matt calm down when anxious

🩹 "blow out candles?" ":c" "what if it's just oooone candle?" "...okaay :c"

🦈 various different toys constantly littering your living room carpet

🫧 outings with them is...a bit chaotic

🥤 "swings! swings!" "hang on matt, where's...chris we do not climb the slide!" "aww man >:C"

💫 "mama/dada/baba watch me!" "no watch me!"

🤍 it may be a bit stressful but you wouldn't trade your boys for the world though 🪄

taglist ! :

@natedoeswife @blahbel668 @nicksloverrr @katw4shereee @pkfferoo @bambi-slxt @chr1sgirl4life @17twelch17 @pinksikhewei @mattssturnz @mattsturniologf444 @graceslittlecorner @zivall @hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus is a warning in and of itself. Smut, p in v, tittie sucking, small tittie worship, cum play, groping, cussing, first time, Obsessed!Coryo, Small Breasted!Reader, Pervy!Coryo, Virgin!Coriolanus, Virgin!Reader

When you hit puberty and started wearing a training bra like your peers, you quickly realized that you weren't going to be blessed with big boobs. That you, in fact, were going to be a card carrying member of the itty-bitty tittie committee. But that didn't bother you. In fact, you were kinda expecting it.

Your mother’s small chested, so you always figured that you'd take after her in that area. Having a small chest is something that you and your mother bonded over. She took you shopping for bras at the store she went to; gave you advice about the most flattering bras for small cup sizes, etc.

It was nice to have a mom for once. To bond over shopping. It makes you feel like a normal teenage girl, especially since your mother usually ignores you in favor of trying to gold dig rich men to get out of having to live paycheck to paycheck.

Your older brother, Rein, was relieved that you're small chested. It meant that you wouldn't have creeps ogling you. That boys would have to like you for you.

And he was right about that, a boy did like you for you.

Coriolanus Snow.

He's always had a raging obsessive crush on you. Coriolanus thinks that you're absolutely beautiful. He also thinks that you're the brightest girl he's ever met. A mind equal to his.

And, ever since the two of you hit puberty, he's found himself staring at your small chest and imagining how his large hands will look covering your small breasts as he fondles them. He thinks that his hands can completely cup and cover them, like a bra of sorts.

But, Coriolanus Snow is afraid of rejection. Although he's been obsessed with you for years, he's afraid that you won't like him in the same way. He's used to being the best, to being on top, and being rejected by you would be the biggest and worst failure in and of his entire life.

So, he just settles for being your friend and for being your class partner for Academy projects.

You and Coryo, Coriolanus has been letting you call him that for a little while now, are sitting together at lunch just eating your Academy provided sandwiches while waiting for Sejanus to grab his food from the long lunch line in the mess hall. The chatter all throughout the room was focused on the upcoming prom.

It's early May and prom's at the end of the month, so of course all the girls are dress shopping and gossiping about their gowns. Oh, and the boys are asking girls to the dance and finding out the color dress they're wearing so they can match with coordinating suits.

And Coryo's no different. He decided to take that leap of faith when it came to you and ask you to prom before anyone else could snatch you up.

“Y/N, would you go to prom with me?” Your friend with the halo of light golden curls asked you with a nervous smile plastered on his chiseled face.

Setting down your sandwich you ask, “Like as a friend or as your girlfriend?”

Your heart's racing as you wait for his answer. You think that Coryo's very handsome and you've been low key flirting with him for a few weeks. Or at least you think you've been flirting with him, you're not really sure since you've never actually flirted with anyone before.

“I'd like you to go as my girlfriend, but-” Coryo began to answer, only for you to cut him off by happily blurting out, “I'd love to go with you as your girlfriend!”

“Good.” He smiled. Between eating his sandwich, he admitted, “Honestly, I was afraid you'd say no or even worse, want to stay just friends.”

“You're the hottest boy in the Academy and you're easy to get along with, so why wouldn't I want to be your girl?” You ask him while grabbing your water glass off your tray.

“I dunno.” Coryo shrugs. Setting his sandwich on his plate and reaching for his own water glass, he explains, “Most people think that I'm a pompous know it all with a permanent stick stuck up my ass, but I'm glad that you think In hot.”

“What did I miss, lovebirds?” Sejanus teasingly asked you and Coriolanus as he finally appeared at your lunch table with his tray. The broas boy with dark hair, who's like a big teddy bear, knew that his best friends have crushes on each other. And by the way you and Coryo are smiling like loons at each other he figures that you two finally figured shit out.

Sipping on his water, your new boyfriend said, “Y/N’s my girl now and we're going to prom.”

“That's good. I was wondering when you two would get together.” Sejanus smiled in response to Coriolanus’ answer.

“Sej…” You gasp, playfully smacking him on the arm.

If only your mutual friend and told the to of you earlier about your mutual crushes.

Coriolanus, unknown to everyone in the Academy, was struggling financially. The Snows were barely scraping by. They didn't have a pot to piss in, but Coryo knew how to fake it. He knew how to put on the airs.

And when you started dating a few weeks before prom, well, he discovered that your lifestyle was as shitty as is. That you didn't have that much money either. And since neither one of you had that much money, Tigress made your prom outfits.

The blonde seamstress made Coryo a nice dress shirt with red stripes on it to match the red dress she made you. Your boyfriend paired his shirt with a pair of black slacks and a black waist coast that he already owned. He even shined his too small shoes for the formal event.

Coriolanus Snow had to look his absolute best for you. Snow lands on top and as cliche as it is, he plans on landing on top of you tonight. He might've stolen some money from his cousin to rent a room in the hotel that's grand ballroom's holding the prom in.

Anyways…

Your dress was absolutely gorgeous. So much so that it rivaled anything out of any of the boutiques and fashion houses. It was a strappy scarlet floor length dress that had a low cut v neck that showed off your lack of cleavage.

Grandma'am Snow gave you her long string pearls and some black opera gloves to pair with the dress. The Snow matriarch claimed the you looked so beautiful. As if you walked right out of a film from the old days, the golden days before the war; before the Dark Days had hit your families hard and tragically.

But the only thing about your dress having such a deep and low v neckline was that you couldn't wear a bra. But since you're small chested it's not like it matters. But, you not wearing a bra has Coryo's mouth watering and his pants tightening at the thought just being able to just slide the bodice over and play with your tits. Yea…he's a pervy, over horny, 18 year old virgin with one too many fantasies. But it is what it is.

But anyways…

You and Coryo were the best dressed at the prom. You got so many compliments on your coordinating outfits. And everyone was pea green with envy over your matching rose corsage and boutonniere. Of course, they were handmade by Coriolanus using the roses from his Grandma'am’s rooftop garden. But that was a secret between the two of you.

A romantic secret, or at least you think so.

And because Coriolanus is such a charming snake with a silver tongue, he somehow got the Senior class to vote the two of you Prom King and Queen. And after being called up on stage and crowned by a very high and disgruntled Dean Casca Highbottom your boyfriend told you that prom king and queen was just the beginning of your lives as a power couple. That one day you'd be President and First Lady Snow.

And after prom you find yourself in a lavish hotel room (guess the Snows are missing the mortgage payment this month; electric bill too…hopefully the water doesn't get turned off…) with Coryo, naked and in bed.

To say he's transfixed on your small titties is an understatement. For an unmeasured amount of time, that feels like an eternity, Coryo's littering your small chest in sloppy, needy, open mouth kisses. He's been alternating between sucking your nipples and pinching them. But since both his mouth and his hands are huge, he's more or less sucking your entire tit in his mouth and pinching it between his fingers since your tits are so small.

Coryo absolutely loves your small boobs. He loves how they fit in his large hands. How he can squeeze and massage them easily. He also loves how his tongue looks sweeping up and down then, licking every inch of your tiny titties.

You don't know when, but while Coriolanus has been worshiping your small chest with his mouth, he snaked his hand between your bodies, down between your legs only to explore your wet folds with his long fingers.

“Coryo…” You half tremble half sigh as you feel him tease your wet hole by barely sliding his fingertip in and out of it.

“Hmmm?” Coryo hummed against your chest. You could feel the vibration of his low timbre against your heart, causing you to just let out a breathy sigh.

“Are you gonna finger me or tease me?” You ask, trying not to whine out in frustration, as you feel his fingertip lightly trace over your soaking wet, tight hole while rubbing your clit with feathery touches.

Lifting his head up and locking his baby blues with your eyes, he lustfully smirks, “Oh, I'm gonna finger you til you're a mess, crying and squirming for me, baby.”, while slipping his pointer finger into your tight, virgin pussy.

A pussy that wouldn't be virginal after tonight. And neither would Coriolanus’ big cock. Oh yea, he's fucking you tonight. You're no longer going to be virgins cause he's overly horny; he's so ready to fuck you and get all of his horny needs out on you.

Coryo's watched so much porn on PanX that he's ready to tear up your pussy and test some of the moves in the video he's watched on you.

Coryo pumps his finger lazily on and out of your cunt while nipping and kissing your small boobs. When you buck up your hips and whine that he's teasing you, Coryo bites one of your small tits only to soothe the sting with his tongue while shoving a second finger into your cunt. He uses his thumb to press circles into your clit while pistoning his fingers in and out of your pussy, pressing against that spongy spot deep inside of you, while biting and kissing your little boobies.

“Coryo, it feels so good.” You moan out, your back arching slightly against the bed as you feel the pleasure building up inside of you.

“I bet it does, baby. Your cunt's so wet, she's taking my fingers in so deep.” Coryo smirks, his normally icy eyes now dark and blown wide with lust. “I'm gonna make you cum so hard on my fingers, you're not even gonna remember what fucking day it is.” He promises you before placing butterfly kisses all over your itty-bitty titties while pounding his fingers so fast in and out of your cunt that the force of its literally pushing you up the bed.

Your head's thrashing around and your hair, that was curled special for tonight's dance, is now a matted mess all over your pillow as you babble out pleas of, “Coryo…please.”, and , “Please, make me cum…”, while the sound of your pussy loudly squelching bounces off the walls as your boyfriend fingers you so fast, hard, and deep that you're about to see stars.

Your hands claw at his shoulders, freshly painted red nails leaving scratches just as red against his pale skin, in a feeble attempt to anchor yourself. Your nerves are shot and you feel pleasure coursing throughout your body, stemming from your core, from the effects of Coryo's wet tongue swirling around your small boobs paired with his long, lithe fingers perfectly hitting your g-spot and filling up your cunt deliciously.

You cum hard around his fingers, his name falling from your lips like a sacred prayer. Coryo doesn't stop his ministrations on your tits or your cunt. No, he continues to fuck your cunt hard and deep; altering between pressing hard circles against your swollen clit and rubbing it harshly back and forth. His mouth continues to devour your tiny titties as if they're the finest dessert he's ever had in his entire life.

And before you could even comprehend what was happening, you're a squirming mess on the bed crying out Coryo's name once again while squirting and soaking both your boyfriend's hand and the bed with your juices.

“Your cunt loves this pounding, don't it baby? Yea?” Coryo asks, grunting against your small boobs as he snaps his hips hard into yours, fucking you into the mattress.

“Yea, Coryo.” You quickly nod. “Feels so good.” You add in a whiny mewl.

“What feels good? Does my big cock feel good tearing up this pussy? Huh?” Coryo taunted as he pounded into you relentlessly.

“Yes. Yes, your big cock feels so good.” You agree with a moan, feeling a knot start to tighten in your lower belly.

“Fuck…” Your boyfriend grunts against your small breasts. “Your cunts so tight and wet ‘round my cock; feels so, so good, baby.” He says, his voice husky with passion and lust, as his large hands grab and squeeze your tiny titties with such fervor, so much so that every touch seemed desperate and full of desire. All the while he continues to pound your pussy with every ounce of energy that he can muster.

One of your hands tangles into Coryo's halo of light blonde curls while your other hand digs into his shoulder, nails leaving crescent moon shaped marks in his pale skin. Your breath hitches as you beg your boyfriend to make you come, again, as his cock slides in and out of your tight, wet, cunt in such a quick pace that it makes loud obscene squelching sounds.

“I'm so close, Coryo. Please, I wanna cum…” You whimper, desperately hiking your legs up higher over Coryo's hips in an attempt to feel some friction; to be able to cum.

“I'll make you cum, baby. I'll make you cum.” Coryo declared before lifting his head off your chest and capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His lips chased yours in desperate open mouth kisses as his hands covered your boobs while he fucked you hard and fast.

“Coryo…I'm gonna cum…” You breathlessly whine on his lips, feeling your orgasm fastly approaching.

“Cum right now, Y/N. Cum right now, baby.” Coryo demanded, his lips hovering over yours in a ghost of a kiss as his hands sharply kneaded your small boobs.

Suddenly you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you and you're cumming hard over your boyfriend's big cock. Your boyfriend slows his pace down slightly so you can ride out your high. He feels in heaven with your juices flowing down his cock.

“I'm gonna cum soon.” Coriolanus informs you as he feels his balls begin to tighten up, a sign that he's getting ready to empty them.

“You're the only boy I've ever been with, Coryo, and I'm not on birth control. You can't cum inside of me.” You frantically tell him, a bit frightened at the prospect of accidentally getting knocked up while 18 and unwed.

“Can I cum on your titties then?” He asks you, his icy eyes twinkling.

Could be cum on your titties? Well, yea. It was better than him knocking you up, right?

“Yes, Coryo. You can cum on my titties.” Was all Coriolanus needed to hear before quickly pulling out of you and scrambling to straddle your chest.

Not knowing what to do with your hands, you rest them on his thighs as he quickly pumps his cock over your tiny titties. Coryo’s biting his lip as he points his angry, red tip straight at your small boobs.

Oh gods…just the thought of covering your small chest with his hot seed is enough to send the platinum blonde careening over the cliff of pleasure. His muscles in his thighs are tensing under your touch and his balls are tightening up while his cock throbs and twitches. Then, before he can even think, he's grunting your name and his icy eyes are rolling into the back of his head as he cums: spurts of hot pearly white ropes landing on your soft skin; decorating every inch of your chest.

“Fuck…” Coriolanus sighs under his breath. “You're so beautiful, baby, with my cum painting your titties.” He states, in awe of his thick pearly seed slowly rolling down your chest.

He's mesmerized by the sight. So much so that he shimmies his body down to slot between your legs so that he can sit up between you and rub his cum into your chest like a lotion in order to mark you. To mark his territory; make you his.

You weren't expecting him to run his cum into you, or to hold his hands out above your mouth while simply ordering you to, “Lick them clean, babygirl.”

Your boyfriend’s baritone is thick, raspy, and full of dominance which causes you to instantly listen to him and do what he says. You lick his hands clean, your tongue working and swirling around one before moving onto the other. The taste of his seed’s salty on your tongue; but it's not too bad.

Once Coryo's hands are clean, he decides to repay the favor by licking your small chest clean. Your platinum blonde boyfriend runs his tongue all over your tiny titties, cleaning any and all trace of his spend off of you.

Yes, it's probably not considered normal for a young man to do this and might be considered a kink, but Coriolanus doesn't care. Your small boobs get him going and he just has to lick them clean until they're slick and shiny with his saliva.

And once your itty-bitty titties are clean and glistening from his makeshift spit shine, Coryo lays down next to you and pulls you into his arms.

“Did you like our first time, Y/N?” Coryo asks, his voice like honey, as his fingers lightly trace patterns on your hip.

“Yea.” You smile. “It was better than the stories I heard my friends tell me.” You reveal while playing with the mop of light blonde sweaty curls on top of his head.

“Well, it seems like your friends don't have boyfriends that love them.” Coryo sneers. Smiling wide, so wide that too many of his pearly whites are showing, your boyfriend tells you, “But I love you so much, baby, that I'd do anything for you.”

And he meant that too. He'd do anything for you and the love obsession he has for you. In fact his obsession for you is so strong that he wants to marry you once the two of you graduate from the Academy.

But, in order to do that he needs money. He needs money to fix up his penthouse properly and to make sure that his Grandma’am, Tigris, and you are able to live in the lap of luxury. He wants to give his family the life that they deserve. Coriolanus wants to provide the life worthy of a Snow to Grandma’am, Tigris, and you. Especially you.

So, Coryo's determined to win the Plinth Prize to provide a good life for his family. And when the rules for winning the prize changes, well, Coryo's willing to do anything it takes to be the victor. Even cheating, because then he'll be rich enough to marry you and take care of his family.

And that's his end goal, to restore his ancestral penthouse to his former glory and to shower the women in his life with riches. And you'll be the most important woman in his life because you'll be Mrs. Snow.

But…that pesky Casca High-as-a-kite-bottom promised to destroy the future on anyone that's caught cheating to win the Plinth Prize. A promise that Coryo needs to heed…

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[its-all-papaya]

Cat for the prompt game

this one was almost an hour and a half but in my defense my brain is a little fried. forgive.

Lando's looped the video probably about a hundred times already, but it still tickles the back of his brain the same way when he watches Oscar's face light up for the one-hundred-and-first time.

"I'm meeting some fans today, apparently."

Lando's seen it so many times he could mouth the words along with Oscar if he wanted. His expression is one Lando'd already had memorized even before, the bemused little smirk he pulls out whenever McLaren throws him in front of a camera alone. Put-upon, like he wants the whole audience to know he's just humoring them.

"Here they are," says the voice off camera that Lando could place if he thought about it long enough.

He hasn't thought about it at all, though, because it comes just before Oscar's face goes surprised, then melts into something soft and happy. Bit distracting, that part. Because Lando knows that expression, too, and it's only the fact that he's got it in high-def now that keeps him from being jealous that the video has gone and shared it with the whole world.

There are three of them, all orange.

"Hello there," Oscar says. It's in his normal voice, like he's talking genuinely to fans and not to the three itty bitty kittens tumbling around his legs.

The bravest of the bunch noses suspiciously at the top of his sock where it meets his shin as soon as it gets close enough. It shrinks back when Oscar smooths two fingers down the back of its neck.

"I reckon they were born to be fans," Oscar's eyes shoot quickly up to the camera and then back down as the second kitten props both tiny paws on his knee, "they're already in the right color."

It goes on like that. Oscar's smile never fully leaves his face and it never makes Lando's chest feel any less warm, no matter how many times he watches it repeat on his phone screen. The marketing team will probably be in fits over the numbers the post is doing, and all the while it'll be just Lando, curled up in his sweats in bed listening to Oscar say "I've seen that people compare me to one" over and over and over again.

Lando's seen, too. That people compare Oscar to a cat. He thinks that's probably where the whole thing came from, actually, the social team cashing out with a partner and tapping in on the fans' fancies at the same time.

He's not quite sure what they mean, but privately, Lando agrees. Carlos and Daniel had been all dog, bouncing into his life and wagging their proverbial tails at him until he keyed himself up to match. All play-fighting and sloppy, open affection; crowding his personal space and shedding everywhere until he had no choice but to love them back just as loudly, just as whole-heartedly.

Oscar had been different from the get-go. He was wary like a cat, circling quietly closer, sneaking in at the edges when he thought Lando might not notice. Shrinking away when he got too much affection too quickly. Slinking back to his own side of the garage when he'd had whatever he decided was enough, always resetting on his own terms.

"Bit scared, I reckon," Oscar says at the fifty-seven second mark. His gaze is off-screen, watching as the kittens are herded carefully back towards him. "New place, and all."

He chats on about the shelter they're promoting, hands busy corralling the kittens when they try to wander again. It takes until nearly a minute and a half in for him to successfully get a hand under one of them. His cheeks go a bit pink as he draws it up towards his chin, and Lando's always go a bit pink as he watches Oscar smile, listens to him say, "See? It's alright."

The next part is Lando's favorite. Sometimes he's been stopping to loop just the same fifteen seconds over, watching again and again as Oscar tucks the kitten against his chest, one hand cradling its back while the other nudges up under its furry white chin. Lando gets a bit hung up on the curve of Oscar's finger there, and he understands it, the way the kitten's eyes close into two pleased little arches on its face.

"Now you're happy, huh?" Oscar asks. His grin suddenly brightens into a soft laugh, and he looks directly at the camera to say, "I don't know if you can hear the purring."

They can hear it. Lando'd had to pull out his headphones a few loops in to catch it the first time, but he can pick it out through just the phone speaker now that he knows what to listen for.

Oscar finishes the video with the sponsored read at two-minutes-and-fifty-five seconds. The kitten is nearly asleep in his palm. Oscar's just sort of knuckling along its stomach gently as they close out, but he slips the pad of one finger under the kitten's paw just before the fade-out, and the cat's little toes flex out, like he's petting Oscar right back.

"What are you watching?"

Lando's eyes snap up from his phone screen, where the McLaren logo is frozen under the repeat icon. Next to him, Oscar rolls closer with a yawn so wide Lando can hear his jaw click. His voice is groggy, still half-asleep.

"Nothing," Lando whispers back.

Oscar slides an arm around his waist and Lando gets distracted enough by the feel of it that he doesn't notice Oscar's fingers closing around the phone, tilting it up so he can see what's woken him just after he'd drifted off.

He breathes out an exhale sharp enough to be a laugh and drops both the phone - onto the bed - and his head - onto Lando's chest.

"Interested in adopting one?" he asks, too cheeky for how awake he can possibly be. His fingers curl around Lando's bare side and Lando can feel his lips move vaguely against his collarbone.

"Maybe," Lando says back.

Oscar gives another of the breathy laughs, "You don't even like cats."

Lando locks his phone and finally sets it on the nightstand to charge. The stretch jostles Oscar enough that he huffs, but Lando soothes him easily with a palm up his spine. When he reaches the top, he threads fingers through the hair at Oscar's nape and presses a kiss to his forehead at the contented hum it draws out of him. A bit like a purr.

Lando smiles.

"That's not true."