#but she only cleans the tub

[akuasucc]

my roommates are so..

[alurite-l]

I spent 30 minutes to an hour cleaning a bathroom I share with person I hate (my sister)

[watercolor-wings]

completely rearranged my room today in a desperate bid for control and personalization cause I cannot find a fucking affordable and livable in apartment here yet, and I would kill for a nice hot tub soak right about now

[ruthlesslistener]

Can't wait to see how big and chunky Junie's gotten tomorrow

[bi-writes]

I feel like the first time he sees her completely nude would be taking care of her or something domestic. Maybe she's sick and he draws her a bath and helps her wash up, or maybe the two of them are on vacation and just enjoying a hot tub together while he's on leave and they both get a view, or maybe he just walks in on her changing and was bringing up some laundry and forgot to knock.

mail-order bride

"need some help in there?" simon asks. he holds out a clean towel for you, and you furiously wipe under your nose. your eyes water a little, not from tears but from your sinuses, and you cough as you reach for the doorknob.

you feel like something ran you over. a flu, one that had you nauseous for a few days and now is making you weak and so tired, sweating while feeling immensely cold. simon thought it time for a bath, and it sounds wonderful, but everything aches a little.

you look at him before nodding, and he takes your hand gently, guiding you into the bathroom.

you sit on top of the toilet as he fills up the bath with warm water. your eyes are trained on the floor, your eyelids dropping and opening as you try and focus on staying awake. when the bath is full and the bubbles from your bath soap have formed, he reaches for your hands and guides you to stand.

he peels your clothes off of you carefully. your top first, then your shorts and panties, and you lean on him for stability as he undresses you. it's quiet, only the sound of the dripping tub faucet as he gets you naked. any other day, you would realize the significance of getting naked in front of your husband, but everything hurts a little too much for you to really notice.

he takes your hands and guides you into the bath, and you groan with relief as he helps you take a seat. he puts a hand on the back of your neck as you lay back, and you smile up at him with watery eyes.

"thanks, simon," you whisper, and he shakes his head.

"'s olright," he murmurs. "everything's gonna be olright."

"i know."

he dips a sponge into the water, squeezing a dollop of your soap onto it before lifting your arm and scrubbing. he's slow, being careful to get you nice and clean everywhere. he doesn't make it weird. scrubs under your arms (and he doesn't mention the fact that you haven't shaved in a while), over your breasts, brings each leg up to get under your knees and between your thighs. he doesn't laugh when he has to do that, just leans his forehead against yours as he smooths his hands over you and makes you feel just a little better with that soft touch of his.

your hair is last. he's careful with it, too, and he surprises you. two shampoo cycles, then lets the conditioner sit, and when he rinses you out for the last time, he kisses your forehead gently before grabbing the clean towel you left on the counter.

you take his hand to stand, letting him dry you off before wrapping the towel around your shoulders. your eyes meet again, and you smile big, your headache a little softer and the pains in your body a little further away.

"you're the best," you whisper, and simon winks, grabbing your robe off the hook and slipping it around you.

"and y'r so fuckin' gorgeous, swee'eart."

"simon!"

"wot? y'r sick, not dead."

[entitled-fangirl]

Moonblood in the middle of the night.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan wakes the reader up in the middle of the night. She's groggy and unsure why.

A/n: based on an ask!!!

Masterlist

..............................................................

She woke up to the soft coo of Cregan's voice as his hands pulled her to sit, "C'mon, love. Wake up for me."

She lets out a groan, rubbing her eyes. The sun had yet to rise, and candles lit their room still. 

He smiled at the sight of her open eyes finally. He ran a hand through her hair, "Doing good for me. Up now."

Her entire body ached as he pulled her up to stand. Her eyes were still half closed with sleep, a blurriness cast over her vision as her brain filled with fog.

Only when Cregan's hands came up to untie her robe, did she reached out to grip his waist. "What-"

"-C'mon. I'm just getting you into the bath."

As the robe fell, a chill moved up her spine. Cregan helped her into the water, smiling when she let out a sigh at the warmth it brought back to her.

Cregan pulled her hair back and quickly tied it up to keep it from the water before moving over to the bed, yanking at the sheets in a hurry.

She didn't notice, leaning her head against the copper rim on the tub as her eyes closed and sleep began to invite itself back.

Cregan gathered the bundle of sheets and threw them outside the door to their chambers. He dug through the cabinet, pulling new sheets out and redoing the bed. 

At the sound of shuffling, she peeked open her eyes to look at him, "What are you doing?" He looked at her with a smile. "What? Do you believe a lord does to know how to change bedding?"

She let out a playful scoff, leaning back and closing her eyes again, "You know that's not what I meant."

After changing the bedding, he moved to the tub, kneeling down beside it and taking a rag into the water. He rubbed it gently up and down her arms. 

She hummed in contentment as he did so. 

He took his time washing her body, the gruff man being gentle. 

Cregan moved the cloth between her legs, and she let out a small gasp, her eyes opening in question. 

"Easy, girl," he muttered lightly. "Your moonblood has come early. Rest your head again, and let me finish."

She let out a small whine, trailing her hand down to try to take the rag from him. "No, don't."

But he didn't budge. "Why? I've seen you at your worst moments, dear wife. Why is this where the line is drawn?"

"It's improper for you to see, Cregan."

He paused, studying her face closely. "Do you wish me gone?"

She quickly shook her head, "Never. It is just imp-"

"-Improper my arse," he said as he finished cleaning her.

…

"I am sorry," she said as he helped walk to back to the bed. 

"For what, dear wife?"

"Bleeding. On the bedding. I shouldn't sleep with y-"

His large hands cupped her cheeks as he forced her to look at him, "You're properly clothed for it now, aren't you?"

She nodded, "But-"

"-Did you believe I'd shun you for this?"

Only then did she really see the desperate look in his eyes. He was insistent on making her see that it truly did not bother him. 

"No. No, I don't."

He let out a breath, "Good." His hands wandered down to her hips, lifting her and setting her on the bed, pulling the furs over her. 

He rounded the bed, getting in on the other side. 

She turned her back to him, assuming that that was it.

But she heard a scoff and soon, his hands wrapped around her waist. He flipped her around and pulled her to his side. "Don't push me away."

She nestled into his chest, getting comfortable, "Thank you, Cregan."

He smiled down at her, "I've done nothing but my duty to you." His hand traced down her back, "Are you in any pain?"

She nodded, "Dully."

He shifted, moving himself onto his side, pushing her onto her back. One of his hands moved to her lower stomach, lightly massaging the sore area.

She let out a sinful groan at the relief.

Cregan continued his movements until he was sure she was asleep before pulling her more into his side and falling asleep himself.

………………………………………..

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

[fixomnia-scribble]

Scientists are very serious.

This is a post about science. And soup.

Dr. Elinne Becket, a microbiologist from Cal State University, is in the middle of one of those Fridge Experiments that happens to us all - except in this case, she is uniquely placed to unravel the science down to the microbial level.

While cleaning out her fridge, Dr. Becket found that a tub of family-recipe beef vegetable soup had turned bright blue. “Ok I'm outing myself here,” she tweeted, “but there was forgotten beef soup in our fridge we just cleaned it out and it was BLUE?!?!? Wtf contam would make it blue??? Like BRIGHT blue!!  Even w/ all my years in micro I'm not handling this well.“

Read on for a breathless and ongoing saga of Soup and Science, and the wonderful international community that is Academic Twitter.

Academic Twitter quickly reminded her of her Responsibilities to Scientific Inquiry. (Cue the chanting from around the world of “CLONE THE SOUP! CLONE THE SOUP!”)

“I can’t believe y’all talked me into going back into the trash.” she tweeted in response, over a photo of a puddle of beautiful Mediterranean-sea blue soup in the trash bin, with bits of veg and noodles arising from the depths.

Scientists being scientists, Dr. Becket agreed to take a sample and send it to colleagues for cloning and microbial analysis.This involved getting arms-deep into the trash bin of Old Soup. “I’m never forviging @ATinyGreenCell (genomic biologist Sebastian Cocioba) for this.” Dr. Becket tweeted, with a photo of a properly dipped and snipped and VERY blue q-tip in a small clear plastic tub.

Diving into decomposing soup was not the only hazard. She writes: “My mom (who made the soup for my birthday) came across this thread and now 1) I have to answer for letting her soup spoil and 2) she's worried @ATinyGreenCell will figure out her secret recipe.“

Dr. Becket and Sebastian were able to culture the Blue Goo!

Becket posted a photo of three petri plates of streaked beef bouillon agar at 72 hours incubation, at 37C, room temp and 4C. She writes: “Left the plates where they were for another 2 days, except the 37°C one was brought to RT, which then grew white stuff over the yellow stuff and stinks to high heaven. RT looked the same. 4°C had impressive growth. Restreaked them all onto TECH agar, awaiting results!”

Sebastian, from his lab, tweeted a photo of three more covered petri dishes, with early results: “Great progress on isolating the glowy microbe from our #BlueSoup! It's so fluorescent the streak is GREEN. Still needs another restreak as it seems there is a straggler but should clear up in the next plate. Exciting!”

Then yesterday, Sebastian tweeted out an updated photo of his plates under daylight and blacklight. “Whatever grew on the #BlueSoup colony plates overnight glows under UV, but only on King's Agar B! That particular media is used to tease out fluorescein expression in pseudomonads. What are the chances that the same cell line expresses fluorescent AND blue pigments?“

“Looking closer, there definitely is a handful of different microbes showing distinct phenotypes. Could be that the blue producer and the fluorescent microbes are totally different microbes!”

At which point, Professor Cynthia Whitchurch of Norwich, England, responded: “Consistent with P. fluorescens being at least part of the #BlueSoup community. The fluorescence is due to production of the siderophore pyoverdine which is up-regulated when iron availability is limited. P. aeruginosa produced this too but my guess is you have blue Pf.”

And Australian agricultural researcher @WAJWebster helpfully tweeted a petri dish of ALL KINDS of colourful bacterial colonies from white to yellow to orange to stark black, with a cheerful: “You need bact-o--colours? I got you, fam.”

The best part is that as of today, March 9, 2023, THE BLUE SOUP MYSTERY CONTINUES. WE ARE WATCHING SCIENCE HAPPENING!

A paper is being written. And Dr. Becket’s mum is getting an author credit as the proprietary owner of the #BlueSoup recipe.

Dr. Becket’s Twitter is here: https://twitter.com/bielleogy

Sebastian Cocioba’s Twitter is here: https://twitter.com/ATinyGreenCell

Fun IFLS story is here: https://www.iflscience.com/microbiologist-investigates-after-her-beef-soup-turned-blue-in-the-freezer-67894?fbclid=IwAR0H27KqVZhzzrosnjzzKkxuKASZ-0L0Lt6hGwCRDJK8xvFbbSlyS4JvwlM

[alicentofhightower]

the cost of a dragon

pairing: addam velaryon x wife!reader

synopsis: addam is covered in cuts and scrapes from falling and running in the forest, and now you must take care of him.

includes: fluff, episode 6 heavy spoilers, probably historically inaccurate w some parts but we’re just gonna Let That Slide, not proofread again oops

wc: 1.3k

a/n: i love him so bad. rn my top 3 tb characters are rhaenyra rhaena and addam. he’s so sweet!! i really hope we get to see a lot more of him in the next few episodes

-

Addam is bewildered when he returns to your home, panting, eyes wide and mouth agape. You’ve never seen him like this, but you guess that it’s the dragon laying beside your house that’s done it.

“What’s happened?” You exclaim when you see the way he’s stumbled in, bleeding from a cut on his cheek.

“…The, the dragon,” He mumbles, locked hair spilling over his shoulders. Addam walks over to where you stand by the kitchen table, hands gently grasping your forearms, as yours do his, thumbs running over your skin to ground himself. He smells strange, like something otherworldly. Could it have been because of the beast outside your door?

“It came to me, followed me through the woods by the shore. I think I’ve claimed him. Yes, that’s what I’ve done. I must go.” Addam attempts to retract himself from your grip, but to no avail.

The pots and pans inside rattle when the silver creature lay its head on the yard outside, no doubt resting from its flight. “Please, my love,” Addam insists. “I need to go and see the queen myself. She is in need of more dragons herself, is she not? If I serve her, perhaps she will allow you and I to live at Dragonstone with her. This is our chance.”

You shake your head, apron ruffling from the beach’s wind blowing through the window. Addam has always been ambitious, has always wanted the best for you and himself. He’s fiercely loyal to you, a quality that made you want to marry him in the first place.

“Addam.” Your hands fly up to cup his cheeks, stopping him from continuing on with his tangent. “You’re covered in gashes and dirt and sand. At least let me lend you a hand.”

He softens at that, jaw seeming to unclench. Addam’s brown eyes have always been expressive, and now they seem to look at you as if you’re the sweetest person he’s ever known. “…I suppose you’re right,” He mutters, “but we must make haste.”

Finally, you let go of each other. You use one of your hands to intertwine your fingers with his, and the other to grip your skirts as you lead him to your room. It’s small and modest, mostly swallowed up by the bed you share. “Sit,” You say, almost commandingly, quickly fetching a spare piece of cloth by the tub in the main room and a bowl of water.

Addam’s eyes almost glint at the way you flounce about before him. He spreads his legs so you are able to stand between them, chin tilting up so he can make eye contact with you while you fix him up.

“Let me see.”

He holds out his right arm, palm up, covered in tiny scratches and sand from his poor attempt to escape from his new dragon. Seasmoke, he remembers. Addam squeezes your right hand lightly while the other cleans him up.

You barely manage to suppress a heavy scoff at the mess in front of you, but you dab gently at it with the towel anyway, soaked with water. “What did you do?” You ask, brows knitting together. “Did you try to run from it?”

“Yes,” He admits, face scrunching together at the fresh memory. You’ve told him to be careful of the sky-beasts constantly looming over the two of you, and he knows he’ll be scolded for trying to escape the damn thing.

You shake your head, mostly to yourself, and Addam’s shoulders deflate. “Well, what would you have done?” He asks, exasperated. “My apologies for wanting to come home to you tonight.”

You pinch his arm. “I only worry for you,” You say, voice soft. Addam and his brother, Alyn, are the only family you’ve left; you’d never known your father, and your sweet mother had died of a fever shortly after your seventeenth nameday. She hadn’t been able to last, to see you wed the man you love so dearly.

“…What will you say, when you see Queen Rhaenyra? She may think you are coming as a foe, to battle rather than service.”

Addam hisses as you brush against a particularly deep cut, eyes squeezing shut. “Sorry,” You say, and he only tips your interlaced fingers up to his lips and kisses the back of your hand.

Your husband pauses after he lets your hands back down, considering the weight of whatever his words to the Black Queen will mean. He almost thinks of it as a duty, to you and his brother. To further your ever so small family.

“I suppose the words will come to me when it happens.” He swallows harshly, eyes averted from yours, darting around like he’s telling himself to fucking think.

You’ve moved onto his other arm, now, and suddenly the odor of him has become unbearable. It’s nothing like anything you’ve smelled before.

Grimacing, you drop the washcloth and cover your nose with your hand, taking a step back. “What?” questions Addam, clearly confused. “What’s the matter?”

“Gods, you fucking stink. What is that?”

Addam laughs. He laughs, tension seeping out of him as he does. “It must be the dragon,” He claims, reaching out to grab your waist and pull you back towards him. “Don’t mind it, please.”

You’re unable to fight the smile you feel blooming, because despite the fact that your husband reeks of his new dragon sleeping outside your home, and your feet are sore from walking to the markets, only to find nothing, and your nerves are set ablaze thinking of his meeting with Rhaenyra, Addam is here. He’s here with you, holding you, safe in the comfort of your humble little home.

The feeling is fleeting, only settling in you for a moment, but you tip your head down to press a kiss to his mouth. “You must be vigilant,” You plead when you pull away, ignoring the way Addam’s lips seem to chase after yours. “And you must return to me. I do not know what I would do if I were to lose you.”

“I will be. I swear it.”

You brush away the dried blood on his cheek with the cloth, frowning. “We should leave, shouldn’t we? Fly to Essos, where we will be safe without the threat of war. That dragon is large enough to saddle three, isn’t it? We can go-“

A thumb soothingly presses against your lips, silencing you. “…If I can put the thing to use, it will strengthen us. Strengthen whatever I have with my father.”

Addam had always been desperate to get the same attention from Lord Corlys that Alyn had always seemed to receive after he’d saved the man. You’d never spoken to the Lord Velaryon yourself before, but it was hard to miss the way he’d stare at you when you visited your husband in the shipyard, almost melancholically.

“I do not care for jewels and gowns and for you to be gilded in glory, Addam,” You state, pushing his wrist away from your face. “I care for you. Should we not go now? I could find your brother.”

“No.” He shakes his head, standing from the bed, now towering over you. His fingers, callused from his seemingly never-ending work on Lord Corlys’s ship, caress your waist almost reverently.

Almost every inch of your skin heats up when Addam leans down to kiss your chest, right where your heart is. The skin is covered by the sea-blue gown you wear, a white apron tied about your waist, and you shudder at the feel of his lips on such an intimate spot.

He kisses up from your bosom to your mouth again, firm and sweet and longing. There’s no guarantee you’ll ever see him again, but some strange part of you feels that all will be well. It’s a naive thought, perhaps, but one you welcome nonetheless.

“I will come back to you,” He promises, voice rasping. “I love you.”

[tame-the-lion-writes]

Okay, so here I go. (I’m sorry if words are misspelled or if I used the wrong words; I’m dyslexic but thank goodness for autocorrect. Sometimes it corrects it for me and at others it puts a completely different word then what I meant; so fair warning.)

So, I was wondering if it will be Ghost that cat reader opens up to about her fear of deep water. It was pretty obvious that she has trauma from it from that one time Ghost tried to give her a bath after she was done for the day doing her “mouse killing” duty; it is most likely a deep fear developed from trauma from being held under by an abusive old owner/partner.

Like yes, it’s obvious she irritates Ghost out of “spite” (and probably does it for shits & giggles on her end) but HE was the one she clung onto when it was made clear of her fear of deep water. She may have been terrified but she felt safe enough to hold onto him & allowed him to comfort her during that event; she cuddled herself under his head and tapped her head against his chest which are signs of trust for a cat.

Yes, she’s definitely more friendly & open to Gaz (first to earn that with her), Soap (second) and Price (third to earn the right to be comfortable with her) but what if it actually came down to core issues/serious concerns it’s actually Ghost she goes to. Mostly because she can tell that although they annoyed each other (not really but more just for loving fun) that they DO understand each other on a level that the others just can’t.

The other three are there for basically nap time together, to play with and being cute with; but it is only with him will she be THAT open with serious things/issues. For her, he becomes her special & only companion for those kinds of matters. (Which once he realizes that she views ONLY him as special/worthy enough to be open with stuff does he feel honored instead of annoyed about it. After all he was trying to make a connection with her and now he has a strong one that only he has access to; she won’t open up about serious stuff with the others in a way that she will only do with him.)

Basically is will be the bases/beginning for her to start accepting him as a comfort source/companion. Of course, she’ll still be a little brat/little shit towards him; but it will be out of good fun/love intentions behind it, no malice or hatred behind her annoyance towards him anymore.

Hope this helps you come up with an idea. ☺️

Oh, babe, you got my vision perfectly LMAO. (And no worries about your dyslexia, I understood you perfectly!)

CW: mentions of past abuse (and technically attempted murder)

I won't go so far as to say that she would never go to the other boys, but yes, she has an extra special bond w/ Ghost because they both understand what it's like to survive abuse--especially abuse at the hands of someone they should've been able to trust. It's also very much an "I hate you" relationship in that they only "hate" each other because of that similarity/understanding. We tend to be more critical towards people like us because of how we perceive ourselves; we are our best critics, after all.

In short, "canonically," reader got tossed over a bridge into a river when her past owner tried to get rid of her. Something along the lines of--she became too big of a burden. Being a birthday/Christmas gift, they didn't expect the true responsibility of raising a pet. The reason doesn't really matter, though; either way, she scratched her way out of the soggy cardboard box and dragged herself to shore, then made her way to the old abandoned farm nearby. Hence why she doesn't like deep water--especially not when someone is carrying her towards it.

But next time Ghost tries to clean her, he's learned his lesson. Fills a small tub just 2-3 inches high, and instead of casually tossing her in, is surprisingly patient as he places her back paws in first--letting her wade a few seconds before plopping her front feet in. She's still whiny, of course, used to washing herself, but with Ghost's help, he get's the places she can't reach. Not to mention that the shampoo he's using smells pretty good.

"Not so mean when your buttons ain't pushed, huh?" he sighs, only to add-- "Sorry 'bout last time. Should've respected your boundaries."

You're quiet for a little before bumping your head into his hand, as if in acceptance of his apology.

"'Sides, you've got your reasons," he goes on, moving to scratch under your chin as well. "And fear ain't your fault."

You meow in understanding, then blink slow.

"Ha--" He copies the blink back. "Think this is the nicest you've been to me."

The rest of bath time is quiet, save for the sound of you shuffling around in the tub in response to Ghost's ministrations. But just as he finishes rinsing you clean of suds, Gaz comes around the corner, ready to kick off his boots after a long day.

"See you're gettin' close with the kit there," he smiles, dusting his hands off in mid-air. And while you half-expect Ghost to respond with acceptance, instead, he mutters--

"What else am I supposed to do? She stinks."

Well, there goes the moment.

You swipe at his hand with a hiss, only to be met with his scowl and a towel that swallows you whole.

When you do eventually tell him--the reason for your fear, that is--it's after another bath, and when you're snuggled close under the weight of his arm. His hand cups the back of your neck, callouses almost silky from how he handles you oh-so gently. A tempered practice he's forced himself to learn since you met. Because though kindness doesn't come naturally to him, it doesn't unnerve you; sometimes you wonder if kindness, as a choice, is better.

"You know I--" he clears his throat-- "we'd never. Right?" Simon whispers, his voice as deep as the purr that eventually rumbles through your chest.

Your fingers dance through the fine blonde of his hair, illuminated only by thin streaks of moonlight filtering through the blinds. Then you draw your palms down, so instead, you're holding the sides of his face, the scars and marks of his beautifully imperfect skin like stories untold beneath your thumb. And you press your nose to his.

"I know."

(He may or may not run into your former owner eventually, and he may or may not threaten to kill him or worse. But that's a story for another day :D)

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, sneaking onto stream

series masterlist

lando norris x mom!wife!reader

summary - little baby norris misses his dad and goes on a mission to find him, when found - it can only result in cuddles

masterlist

-

it was a quarter past six at night in the norris household, and having just finished eating, the young family parted for their different nightly duties. lando bringing finn to his bath as you began to clean up the kitchen after dinner. succeeding a few moments of your comfortable silence - which isn’t ever silence in your house, it’s the distant baby giggles and splashes in the tub and the quiet coo’s coming from your husband - you ready the house for nighttime. setting out finn’s playmat with a few toys near the sofa and dimming the lights around the home, you feel at peace. just then you hear the light laughs and footsteps as your husband comes down the hall, with a fresh and clean baby, as you're starting to put away the clean dishes.

“there’s momma! i told you she was waiting for you, bubs,” lando softly speaks to your son in his arms. 

“was someone missing me?” you turn from putting away the dinner plates in the cupboard to face your two favorite boys. 

“mommaaa” finn begins to make grabby hands in your direction as he whines, causing you to stroll over and grab him from your husband’s arms.

“been askin’ about you since the shampoo portion of the bath,” lando chuckles a bit as his left hand finds your waist to pull his little family closer to him.

“you missed me, baby?” you ask again to your son as he cuddles into your arms.

“wan’ boaf of you, momma and dada for bath time,” finn answers quietly, sleep gracing his voice in the way both you and lando cherish.

“you wanted both of us buddy? next time we’ll both be there, okay?” your husband assures your son with a ruffle of his hair. he lets out a soft ‘otay’ back to the two of you and you both are just enamored by his cuteness. lando’s hand then drops from your waist and instead moves to your head, bringing it closer for him to plant a kiss on top. 

“i’m heading to stream with the boys, love. just come on in if you need anything,” your husband then dips down to plant the same kiss on his son’s head as he jokingly waves a finger in front of his face, ��no trouble for momma when i’m gone, mister. no parties, no girls, no staying up and drinking too much milk,” your son just laughs at his father’s antics as they are a regular occurrence and you can’t help but join in on the amusement with your own giggles. one more kiss to your forehead and lando is heading down to his streaming room in order to get started and you make your way over to the sofa.

setting finn down on his playmat, he begins to crawl and walk around, playing with his toy cars and other sets, leaving you to finish your business in the kitchen. you had a burst of energy that night to give a thorough cleaning to your home, and it seemed like your son had that same energy as well. you were able to see the playmat from your spot in the kitchen, but didn’t have too much concern for your son’s actions due to the babyproofing lando had set up when finn began crawling and walking. 

“momma” finn calls over to you from the living room, holding his papaya car in one hand and ferrari car in the other. 

“yes, love?” you call back, peering over the kitchen island to get a look at your baby. 

“where dada?” 

“he’s in his office, baby. he’s streaming, remember?” you gently remind him, hoping he was tired enough to not have a tantrum, but not too tired where he would also have a tantrum. the joys of a toddler.

“wanna play cars with dada,” he whines a bit and you sigh, struggling to quickly figure out a response.

“what if he plays cars with you tomorrow? i’m sure he would love that and then you would have sooo much time, too!” you try to steer him into the excitement of your idea, “because you’ll have to go to bed soon, so you won’t have much time tonight,”

“boaf?” your son lets out in adorable curiousness with his question.

“not both, love. and not tonight, i’m sorry,” you gently push again, “do you want a bit of bluey before bed? you didn’t get any tv time today?” with that offer your son is vigorously nodding his head yes, leading you into a laugh as you walk over to turn it on. ‘so spoiled’ you hush out with a laugh under your breath, heading back into the kitchen to pick up where you left off. 

-

lando had been on the stream with george, alex, and charles for about half an hour. he knew that soon you would leave a gentle knock on the door, alerting him of finn’s bedtime. he would quietly pause the game, head out of the room, tuck in your son with you, say the goodnights, and then head back to his game. however, the knock he heard this time was a little different than yours, and the sound came from a lower area on the door. which only meant one thing. 

as lando pulled the door open, his son tumbled a bit from leaning against it and your husband’s father instincts cut in as he caught him, swinging his body up to his hold, “what’re ya doing, buddy?”

“miss’ you, dada,” finn quietly speaks to his father, nuzzling deep into his neck in order to achieve peak comfort. 

“aw, bubs, dada missed you too,” lando sighs while rubbing his back. even though you both didn’t want to subject finn to the public, he made appearances here and there. and with lando’s mic having been left on, he couldn’t really hide the fact that his sleepy son was in the room. the comment finn made also tugged on lando’s heartstrings, which led to his decision to climb back into his chair with the sleepy boy on his lap. lando traveling constantly for work and you not being able to follow him every time, leads him to cherish his moments he can achieve with finn. therefore, aiding in his decision to not seek you out, and instead have his son join him. 

as lando takes a seat, he announces into his mic that a ‘special guest appearance’ will be happening, and finn appears on the screen, cuddled into lando’s lap. the comments on the stream begin to go by in a frenzy, lando only picking up a few ‘awwww’ and ‘baby finn!!’ comments along the way. the boys on the stream all notice and begin to say hello as finn picks his head up to glance at his father.

“they’re all saying hi, bub. do you wanna say hi back?” lando asks gently to his quiet son.

“who dada?” his innocence shining through his wide eyes and parted lips as he stares in awe of your husband.

“well, you remember charles and alex and george, right?” lando begins, attempting to coax finn’s memory to his paddock friends, “charles drives with uncle los?” lando pushes a bit further.

“uncle los is here!” finn perks up at his favorite uncle’s name, and the boys on the stream all groan, earning a chuckle out of lando. 

“bubs, you remember them, here, look,” lando points up to the screen as his son follows his finger to see all the boys smiling and waving. finn - loving the attention, just like his father - attempts to stand up on lando’s legs, sticking a hand out to wave back. lando’s hands go straight to his son’s waist, holding him close and ultimately pulling him back down onto his lap. 

“i like your pajamas” charles laughs out through the screen, identifying finn’s bright red ferrari pj’s he attempts to wear every night.

“charles likes your jammies, buddy,” lando relays, “what do we say?”

“tank you, cha!” finn screeches out while giving a giggle. the boys all then begin to comment on how the mclaren driver’s son is eating, sleeping, and breathing ferrari - just as you quietly open the door to the room, facing right at your boys but not in view of the camera. peaking your head in, you make eye contact with lando, him giving you a non-verbal communicator that he’s got finn and you’re okay, easing the panic in your eyes. 

“momma!” finn lets out a yelp as he notices your presence.

“hi, baby. you disappeared on me, i almost had to send out a search party!” you amuse your son as he gurgles into his father’s arms. 

“i sowwy, mommy. i jus’ miss dada” he says back, furthering his cuddling into lando’s arms, who simply pulls him closer and pecks his head with a kiss whispering a ‘missed you too, buddy’. 

“it’s alright, baby. next time just tell momma before you go, okay?” kindly reassuring the boy. 

“otay, mommy,”

“but it is bedtime, mister. so say goodnight to daddy and his friends,” you nod towards lando and his set up. 

“nooo, mommy pwease! dada and i have fun!” your son gives you an adorable whine as he lays against your husband. looking up to make eye contact with him, you see lando's puppy dog eyes on full display. 

the same ones that got you to go on a date with him, the same that got you to marry him, the same that got you a baby with him, the same that have you trying for another baby with him, and the same that are going to make you say yes today and deal with a cranky little three year old tomorrow. 

lando see’s the wheels turning in your brain and decides to add on in order to hit the nail in the coffin, “please, momma. five more minutes,” your husband pleads with your son. finn looks up at his dad, then whips his head back to you and nods his head, agreeing with his father.

you let out a defeated sigh, “fine, five more minutes,” your boys begin to cheer at their victory but you cut it short with a quick finger pointed at lando, “but you’re dealing with the cranky kid tomorrow,” you bite with a smile. your son looks up at his father, letting out a ‘ooooooo, you in twouble’ leading to everyone, including the stream, erupting in laughter. 

lando shakes his head at the teasing, hugs his son tight to his chest, and replies back with his best answer, “worth it,” while shooting you a wink as you shut the door.

[pedrospatch]

conflicted

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Your captor gives you a bath. You have some conflicting feelings when he touches you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. also tagging elements of NONCON just to be on the safe side. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, Joel killed her father, mention of blood, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own. pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, pretty girl, little girl), daddy kink, very minimal editing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

if this isn’t your thing, that’s fine, just scroll on by.

word count: <1k

a/n: this is a bit less than a blurb. a blurb of a blurb. a blurbette, if you will. i shelled it out in like less than an hour. to me it is part of the captive universe, but can be read as a standalone! please be advised that this is not fleshed out at all, i just felt like writing something that didn’t require too much brain power.

He pours one last pail of hot water into the tub.

“How’s the water?” he asks you.

His voice is so deep. Rich, like molasses. 

It’s also laced with a southern accent, you’d noticed.

Aware he’s still waiting for an answer, you shrug.

He tries again. “S’not too hot, is it?”

He had ordered one of the women in the group to start a fire and boil water collected from the stream they had stumbled upon just a mile south of the small cottage.

“Seriously, Joel?” Angela had glared at him. “I am not a fucking maid.” Hands planted on her hips, she foolishly added, “If I’m gonna haul and boil water for a bath, it’s gonna be for me, alright? Not for that little fucking brat of yours.”

His switchblade had gone straight to her throat.

“Fuckin’ say that again,” Joel hissed, the sharp edge of the blade lightly slicing into her flesh. “Call her that one more time and see what fuckin’ happens.”

She apologized and then got to work, completing the task within a couple of hours.

Finally, you answer his question.

“Water’s fine,” you mumble. It’s hot, but not scalding.

“Good.”

Joel kneels beside the tub.

Flinching, you hunch over and pull your legs up against your chest.

It doesn’t matter. He’s already seen you naked.

He’s the one who had undressed you, after all.

Dipping a washcloth into the water, Joel instructs, “Sit up straight, honey.”

Honey.

The pet name makes you feel sick to your stomach.

You’re not his honey. You’re his prisoner.

He frowns, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, pretty girl.”

Obediently, you nod and the water sloshes around you as do what he says.

You saw what he was capable of. You’re terrified of him.

With a satisfied hum, he begins washing you.

It had been three days since the massacre. Joel gently scrubs away the crimson caked onto your skin and the color of the water turns to rust. You don’t know whose blood you’ve been wearing—could it be your father’s?

He had been standing in front of you when his life was taken by the very same man that knelt beside you. Had his blood splattered on you? Was it being cleaned off by the same man who had so violently spilled it?

Your stomach lurches at the thought.

He had been trying to protect you during the ambush.

Your father had been trying to fucking protect you.

And Joel Miller had killed him.

He had killed him just to get to you.

Joel runs the washcloth down your arm, his dark gaze dragging over every inch of your body. “Such a pretty, pretty little girl,” he murmurs. Dropping the washcloth into the water, he gently cups one of your breasts in his large hand. He sweeps his thumb over your nipple and lightly teases the pebbled flesh, his digit circling it until it becomes a stiff peak.

Your eyes flutter closed and you inhale sharply.

There’s a strange feeling in your lower belly.

Strange because it’s not entirely unpleasant.

He trails his hand lower, raking over your tummy.

Lower.

Lower.

Lower.

He rests his palm over the mound of your pussy.

Gasping, your thighs clench together.

You’d like to think it’s to keep him out, to keep him from violating you further, but the burning pressure building in between your hips seems to be saying otherwise.

Horrified, you squeeze your thighs even tighter.

No. Don’t let him in.

But what if your resistance led him to force his way in?

You shudder, unable to decide which would be worse.

Joel leans forward over the bathtub, pressing his lips to your temple. “Don’t fight it, honey. S’okay that it feels good,” he mumbles against your skin. “It’s s’pposed to feel good when I touch you, baby.”

No, it’s fucking not!

Bowing your head, quietly begin to sob.

He wraps his arms around you. “Don’t cry, babygirl,” he soothes. “Don’t cry. Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you. I promise I’ll always take good care of you.”

His vow makes you cry even harder.

divider credit @saradika 🤍

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅰ ▬ ⁽ 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓌𝑜𝓁𝒻 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₃˖₅ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW, dubcon, rape/noncon elements explicit content, teratophilia, monster/human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, very obvious size difference, dacryphilia, ( slight?? ) somnophilia, cunnilingus, knotting. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎ : you're invited to the bar by your bestfriend, barb. things go awry. ꒰m!werewolf ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

𝒜s you drift in and out of a light slumber, the sudden sound of your phone jolts you awake. The room is enveloped in darkness, and a chill lingers in the air, reminding you that you forgot to close the window. You shift in bed, directing your gaze towards the nightstand, and reach out to grab your phone, squinting against its blinding brightness. Running a hand through your tousled hair, you sit up and flick on the nearby lamp, illuminating the room.

As you settle in, your eyes slowly adapt to the light, allowing you to observe your surroundings. Glancing at your phone once more, you notice the time - it's already 9:27 PM. Your friend tried calling you five times, with the first call going unanswered for ten minutes.

As you slide out of bed, you stretch your arms and legs, grimacing at the sounds of your joints cracking. You brush your hands through your hair and make your way to the bathroom, turning on the light, and leaning against the sink, letting out a sigh at the sight of the bags under your eyes. Your lithe fingers gently pull at the skin under your eyes, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. Sighing, your arms drop to your side before lifting them to twist the faucet handle.

You bend down and form a makeshift bowl with your hands, sleepily awaiting the rush of water. The liquid cascades into your palms, filling them with a refreshing embrace. With a swift motion, you splash the cold water onto your face, instantly jolting your senses awake.

Huffing out a sigh, you shut off the tap, taking a brief pause to relish in the quietness of your home, before reaching for a soft hand towel to gently pat your face dry. Tossing the damp towel into the laundry basket, you pivot on your heels and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and shutting the door behind you.

Glancing around the room, you notice the scattered clothing on the floor and your disorganized dresser, and as much as you wanted to clean it, you simply lacked the motivation. Your gaze swiftly shifts away from the mess and you clear your throat.

"Hey, Alexa, Call Barb back."

As her robotic voice obediently chimes, you collapse onto your messy bed, emitting a groan in response to the piercing sound resonating in your ears. A brief moment of silence passes before you're taken aback, startled by Barb's exuberant cheer.

" Thank god! I thought you were dead! What are you doing right now?" The ambiance of music and conversation engulfs her, prompting yet another sigh from you- the nth one since you've woken up. You're now well aware of the reason for her call, but you're not in the mood to socialize or have a drink.

After all, this was your only free weekend for the next month or so; and besides, you had already planned a date with a tub of ice cream and a marathon of horror movies.

"I just woke up from a nap, where are you? It's loud."

The woman softly utters a flustered 'stop', likely to a guy she's flirting with. Barb clears her throat to hide a giggle. "I'm at a bar with Crystal and Kevin. Please come down!" The idea of socializing at that moment sent shivers down your spine. No matter how much you adored Barb, her offer didn't tempt you in the slightest.

Actually, the idea of socializing at that moment sent mind-numbing shivers down your spine, and just as you were about to decline, her following words elicit a gentle chuckle from you.

"And! Before you say no, I promise I won't ask you to come to any events for the next three months." The anxiety in her voice is palpable, and it begins to chip away at your resolve, her small whine finally breaks you and with a sigh, you find yourself smiling at her proposal. "Fine, send me the address and I'll be there as soon as I can. "

The place is bustling with noise and the unmistakable smell of sweat as you navigate your way to the bar. From the entrance, you catch sight of Barb's eye-catching cotton candy pink hair. She's engaged in light-hearted banter with a burly man, and although you hesitate to interrupt, you do so anyway.

Wrapping your arms around her waist, you bask in the comforting aroma that surrounds her. Barb was an absolute doll, and the instant connection you both had when introduced by a mutual friend three years ago is still strong. Barb was practically the sole reason you weren't a recluse.

A small chuckle escaped her lips as she affectionately placed her hand on your cheek. "That you babe?" She turns around as she hears your approving hum, and her gaze falls upon your attire. It wasn't flashy, considering this is just a bar. Your legs are clad in mom jeans, complemented by a band tee and a pair of chunky combat boots. In contrast to Barb's tight red dress, you may seem a bit underdressed, but your intention wasn't to find a hookup tonight; you're here to catch up with Barb.

She pressed her lips together, but eventually gave in and rolled her eyes before pulling you into a warm hug, without getting up from her seat.

" Henry, this is my best friend. " she beamed at you and playfully raised her eyebrows. "Bestie, this is Henry."

You cast your eyes towards him, uninterested."Hey, how are you?"

Without waiting for his response, you plant a kiss on Barb's forehead and gesture towards the other end of the bar. "I'll grab a drink and then search for Kevin and Crystal."

Barb's lips formed a pout as she nodded, her expression turning stern. "Don't leave without telling me okay?" You acknowledged her request with a nod, waving her off and making your way to the stool at the end of the counter, collapsing onto the chair, and releasing a weary sigh.

The bartender looked at you expectantly, prompting you to bite the inside of your cheek before simply requesting water - you had no intention of drinking tonight. Your eyes flit over the bar, taking small sips from your water bottle, looking for any eye candy. Eventually, your gaze landed on a man wearing a red, dirtied beanie, his eyes lowered. He's big and burly, with dark hair covering his forearms and a thick beard.

Your heart stutters in your chest, prompting you to clench your thighs together. His sun-kissed complexion exuded an irresistible aura of feral masculine energy, that made your nipples perk up and harden. You discreetly averted your eyes, taking a gulp of water to quell the sudden and embarrassing rush of desire.

Stealing another glance, your heart skips a beat when his hazel eyes meet yours. Flustered, you quickly look away, feeling the warmth spread across your cheeks. You had just got caught ogling a sexy hunky man, and you'd probably been drooling too.

You set your water bottle on the counter and pat your cheeks with your cold hands. Gradually mustering the courage, you decide to approach the man- the intimidating but hot man who sat in a booth alone. As you prepare to stand up, you are startled to find him just a few steps away from you, gaze searing and unwavering.

Towering at 6'4, he appeared even more imposing in person, his muscles clearly defined beneath his jacket. Despite your jitters, you offer a smile and a nod in his direction. His eyes briefly leave yours, locking with the bartender's. A surge of desire courses through you, his voice is deep and velvet-smooth, and it has your stomach in knots.

"Another bourbon."

His eyes fixated on you, captivating your very being and luring you into a trance. A timid squeak escaped your lips as you retreated into your shell - he exuded an aura of sheer intimidation. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth accompanied a subtle nod, but little else. You couldn't help but feel foolish for even attempting to engage with him because even though he didn't wear an expensive suit or look well off, he was way out of your league. At least, that's how it felt.

As he grabs the glass of bourbon, he disappears into the shadows of his lonely little booth. You feel the urge to approach him but two things hold you back– one- you don't know what you would say and two– you really have to pee.

Downing the last drops of water, you bring the bottle with you to throw in the garbage can. Suddenly, you come to a halt, noticing the lengthy line forming at the restroom — that was like a thirty-minute wait, you couldn't possibly hold your pee for that long.

The longer you pondered your next move, the more your bladder seemed to betray you. Your only choice was to venture outside and take care of business in the back. You clenched your jaw, cursed under your breath, and hurried to the back door. As you made your way, you locked eyes with Barb at the bar and gestured towards your urgent need. She responded with a nod and a thumbs-up before returning to her conversation. With a sigh of relief, you slipped out into the cool night air, feeling its gentle touch on your skin.

The town may have been small, but it possessed an allure that captivated its inhabitants. It wasn't the kind of place where everyone knew each other, yet it still retained an intimate charm. Nestled at the edge of town, this bar stood amidst the endless forest that enveloped the surroundings. It was easy to get lost in there.

Into the heart of the forest, you went, careful to avoid prying eyes as you attended to your needs, wary of the consequences if caught by the property owner or law enforcement. As you made your way through the trees, the dim glow of the bar faded and you continued to walk until you had to squint to see the bar lights.

The sound of your belt coming undone echoed through the stillness of the area and you feel your skin crawl with anxiousness. You can hear the steady stream of your pee hitting the leafy-covered ground and you cringe at the loudness of the sound. After you make sure you're at least a bit dry down there, you stand and pull your pants up. As you adjust yourself, a rustle in front of you makes your heart race.

Your hands freeze at your belt buckle, a deep, low, guttural growl meets your ears and suddenly you can see golden irises looking towards you. It's a wolf. Fear grips you as you step back, trembling with terror. As your eyebrows knit together, your gaze intensifies upon the creature before you. There is no denying its identity as a wolf, yet its sheer size is awe-inspiring, towering over you. Its maw is much too big, its teeth much too large and its physique exudes strength.

What the hell were you looking at?

It takes a step forward, snarling at you. Your body quivers with nervous energy, unable to find calm, unable to focus. Without hesitation, you pivot on your foot and sprint away, your eyes scanning the surroundings with newfound intensity - every obstacle, every tree, every shadow. Uncertain if the predator is gaining on you, uncertain if more have joined in on the chase - you refuse to look back. The snarls and the sound of rapid footsteps fade momentarily. Breathing becomes difficult, and your face is flushed and covered in sweat.

Seeking refuge behind a tree, you struggle to regain composure, your heart racing wildly, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Crack

Sprinting away, driven by an insatiable desire for safety, you disregard the possibility that it might not be the wolf. You suddenly experience an excruciating pain that travels up your ankle, causing an ear-piercing shriek to erupt from your throat and obscure your vision with tears.

Your skull collides with the rugged terrain, engulfing your vision in darkness for a fleeting moment. As your mind gradually regains clarity, you steal a glance at your ankle, recoiling at the sight of the weathered bear trap sinking its fangs into your flesh. Thankfully, the wound appears shallow, and you offer a silent gratitude to God.

Crunch

You lack the strength to budge, even though it's not causing any real harm; the agony is unbearable. The wolf draws nearer, yet its snarls transform into a plaintive whine. Your eyes remain tightly shut, refusing to open, as your body becomes paralyzed by the sensation of its scorching breath against your face.

It continues its advance, until it reaches your leg, eliciting a whimper from you as its jaws envelop it. Although no additional pain ensues, the sound of fabric rending fills your ears. With trepidation, you finally summon the courage to open your eyes, only to find half of your pant leg ripped away.

Crack, Crack

Bones are breaking, you can hear every crack and also see them breaking under the wolf's fur. As the wolf's fur ripples, you witness the gruesome spectacle of bones splintering beneath its skin. A sickening sensation rises in your throat, causing you to retch violently onto the verdant grass below. The cracking stops but you make no move to look again.

The searing agony dissipates, replaced by the faint rustling of metal being pried apart and discarded with a metallic clink. A rough, yet tender and moist touch glides over your wound, gradually erasing the numbness that enveloped you. The scorching pain that once tormented you is now but a distant memory.

Facing the creature, you realize it has grown even larger, standing at an impressive 9 feet tall. Its massive frame is covered in thick, dark fur, making it almost impossible to discern its true shape. The only colors visible are the glowing gold of its eyes and the pink knot nestled against your thigh. You swallow heavily and avert your eyes quickly, eyes flitting to the wolf's face.

Your heart races as you feel its large hand holding your leg, the gentle touch of its claws sending shivers down your spine. The sensation of its tongue brushing against your skin sends waves of pleasure through your body, despite the fear that grips you. His nose twitches, his eyes flicking towards you, the tension in his muscles palpable.

Your body quivers like a leaf, appearing fragile and small beneath the werewolf, so easily breakable. You can feel his cock stiffening even more, almost impossibly so. Reluctantly, you retract your leg from his grasp, edging back slowly. He watches you with intelligent eyes, tracking your every motion. Struggling to rise, you opt to flip onto your hands and knees, clutching a nearby tree for support— still uncertain of your 'healed' ankle.

There's a pressure on your waist, claws teasing your delicate hips, barely breaking the skin, and you cry out as your pants are torn from your legs, the cool air brushing against your exposed skin. He pauses for a moment, snout coming close to your sex before sniffing deeply. As tears cascade down your cheeks, you instinctively lash out, kicking your leg in a desperate attempt to distance yourself.

Your combat boot forcefully collides with its face, a feeble protest that is met with a mocking snort. With a single swipe of its claw, your delicate undergarments are effortlessly torn apart, leaving your hole quivering, and juices leaking without permission. Drawing nearer, its snout radiates warmth, causing you to recoil, your eyes squeezed shut. Yet, they swiftly snap open as its wide, elongated, and moist tongue begins to sensually lap at you, the roughness of its muscular appendage gently grazing your entrance and occasionally slipping inside.

Against your will, you're moaning loudly. Your eyes roll back and your lower lip is trapped between your teeth. The hand that was holding onto the tree is now on its snout, attempting to push it away. Your face is pressed into the ground, your back arched in a deliciously painful curve, and your ass is raised high in the air.

It laps at you eagerly like a thirsty dog, and you're lost in a sea of pleasure, moaning and pleading for more, despite yourself. You love every second of this, and it makes you feel disgusted with how enamored you are at what this monster's tongue is doing to you.

You're enveloped in a sea of pure white, as its tongue explores the depths of your being, gently caressing your sensitive spots and teasing your g-spot. It's tongue fucking you so well, like it possesses an intimate map of your body. Its tail sways rhythmically as your trembling thighs embrace its snout, cum dripping onto its eager tongue. Your body spasms with pleasure, and it revels in its satisfaction.

Your pussy tightens slightly, releasing your desire onto your inner thighs, playfully winking at the creature, enticing it to take you. Its hands encircle your waist, contrasting your size against it. The tip of its red cock is lined with your entrance and it finds it a bit difficult to slip the head in at first, you're a tight squeeze.

" No. No, it won't fit!" It's thick and long, and so much bigger than a normal cock, and that thought terrifies you. You shriek as it inches into you slowly, pussy stretching to attempt to accommodate its thickness. You shake your head, crawling forward and attempting to escape the overwhelming intrusion. However, its deep snarl makes you whimper and freeze.

You weakly resist one last time, wriggling your hips to stop it from completely ruining you for any other man, but as it sinks into your quivering, messy cunt, you stop struggling.

Despite the tension in its muscles, it takes its time. The beast is exceptionally thick, so its cock is heavy inside you. The drag of its bulbous tip on your g-spot has you whimpering and drooling over yourself. Abruptly its massive frame envelops you, hands firmly gripping your hips.

How ironic, a canine-like creature ravishing you in the primal position of doggy style.

With a powerful thrust, it plunges its rigid cock deep inside you, its pelvis pressing against your ass. The weighty orbs of its balls collide against your clit, brimming with cum, and despite knowing you shouldn't, you crave every drop of its hot seed.

Your sight becomes hazy, and the world around you blurs as pleasure consumes you. It's an overwhelming sensation that brings tears to your eyes. Each touch from it sends electric shocks through your body, it's touching every nerve inside of you effortlessly. Despite feeling completely satisfied, a deep craving for more remains. The desire to feel it cum inside of you.

With each thrust, a creamy white residue encircles its cock and you're not sure how you've cum so many times in such a short period, but your eager, filthy little hole is starting to feel tender and sensitive. You're whining and whimpering, a blubbering mess below it. You need more.

It starts to speed up, hips stuttering, and a whine building in its throat. With one final forceful thrust, it buries itself deep inside you. Its primal roar echoes in your ears, yet you lack the strength to shield them.

The wet, erotic sound as it pumps you full of cum makes you orgasm once more. Your poor slutty hole clenching around it. You've lost track of time since you left the bar, and you don't know how long the two of been fucking. Exhaustion washes over you, and all you desire is to return home.

However, it appears that th beast has different intentions. Suddenly, it lifts you up, positioning itself on its hindlegs, and you find yourself sitting upright on its throbbing cock. One of its hands ventures beneath your band tee, discovering your erect nipples, while the other firmly grips your hip, effortlessly thrusting you onto its shaft as if you were its own personal fleshlight. Its muzzle nuzzles against your neck, sending shivers down your spine as you surrender to the overwhelming pleasure, even though exhaustion consumes you.

–

When you came to, you were relieved to find yourself at your house, believing that maybe you had dreamt it, it couldn't have been real. But the evidence of your wild night with that beast is undeniable - the sticky puddle of cum on your sheets and the missed calls and texts from Barb serve as a tantalizing reminder. You can't remember how long he used your body for his pleasure but you do remember leaving a pool of cum where the two stayed that night. Though, one text stands out to you.

"Babe, a man came up to me earlier and said that he enjoyed you last night. WTF?! Bitch, spill."

[whateveriwant]

I'm still in a girl dad!Simon mood, so here's some thoughts about girl dad!Simon during bathtime :)

Simon Riley who artfully herds his rambunctious three year old towards the tub as it comes time for her nightly bath.

Simon Riley who double – no, triple – checks the temperature of the water because he can't have it being too hot or too cold for his little Goldilocks.

Simon Riley who (jokingly) exclaims “Pee-yew!” as he helps her strip out of her dirty clothes.

Simon Riley who lets her bring her dolls in the tub with her even though he knows you hate it because it makes her toys smell like mildew afterwards.

Simon Riley who uses only the softest of washcloths and gentlest of soaps when washing his daughter's delicate skin.

Simon Riley who spikes her hair up into a tiny mohawk because she gets a kick out of the way he refers to her as “Uncle Johnny”.

Simon Riley who folds all too easily when his little girl requests he play her favorite song while she bathes.

Simon Riley who, under no circumstances, will get that bloody tune stuck in his head. Nuh-uh. No way. Absolutely not going to happen.

Simon Riley who– Baby shark doo-doo doo-doo doo-doo. Baby shark doo-doo doo-doo doo-doo. Baby shark doo-doo doo-doo doo-doo. Baby shark. (Goddamnit.)

Simon Riley who has to wrangle her like a slippery eel when it's finally time to remove her from the tub.

Simon Riley who confirms she looks, “Just like Princess Ariel, love.” (If Princess Ariel resembled a drowned rat, that is.)

Simon Riley who's extra careful not to snag on any knots as he runs a comb through her dripping hair.

Simon Riley who has her jammies already set up on the counter, helping her change into them once she's all dry.

Simon Riley who gives her a little pat on the butt when he releases her back into the house, hearing her run and shriek with her post-bath zoomies.

Simon Riley who prays she'll stay relatively clean in the next hour or so before she gets put down for bed.

Simon Riley whose shirt is drenched in dirty bathwater, his back killing him from being hunched over for so long, one eye burning from when he accidentally flicked suds into his face.

And Simon Riley who already has plans to play hide and seek with his baby girl in the garden tomorrow, just so he has an excuse to do this all over again.

[erwinsvow]

the water is hot—much too hot for skin, you’re well aware, but this is your everything shower, so there’s no use in not having scaldingly warm water rain down on you. rafe’s bathroom is a mess of your products—a honey scented candle flickering on the sink counter, your soaps and scrubs along the tub. the entire place smells like vanilla and coconut, smells like you. 

you just need to finish washing your hair and give yourself one last soapy rinse before you can step out and finish up—all that’s left is lotioning up and your skincare. 

but it’s hard to want to leave when it’s so warm, and you feel so clean, and it’s so cold outside, colder still without the warmth of your boyfriend, who is out and about for the day.

so you decide to cherish this time, letting your head run under the showerhead and basking in the feeling. you only get another thirty seconds before the door opens. 

“wha—hey!” you yell out, thinking maybe sarah came in, since sometimes she does that when wheezie’s using their bathroom, and she’s only caught you and rafe showering together twice so far.

“shut up. it’s me.” your boyfriend’s sweet as always, walking in and closing the door behind him.

“rafe, i’m showering,” you start, worried for some reason that he’s gonna yank you out.

“yeah, i can tell. m’not blind, kid.” you hear him settle—he’s probably taking a seat, getting comfortable. “you won’t believe what barry said today-”

you poke your head out from the side of the curtain. rafe’s sitting on the toilet, staring up at you.

“get out!” 

“no. i gotta tell you what barry did.” he makes himself comfortable, sniffing the candle and then starting his story. you aren’t surprised at his antics anymore, there’s no privacy between you two anyways. you go back, finishing your hair wash while listening. 

“jesus, it’s fuckin’ hot in here. how do you still have skin?” 

“this is the perfect temperature,” you sigh, reaching for your body wash. rafe can’t see much through the curtain—it’s not sheer in any way, but he can make out your shadow from the other end, hands running over your body while you wash away the suds, the shape of your face under the showerhead. 

he shouldn’t have come in here.

“alright, i’m goin’. finish up.” you poke your head back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“already? what happened to the rest of your story?” 

“you told me to get out, remember?” you pout.

“was just kidding. i like this.”

“if i stay in here m’coming in there with you.” 

“promise?” 

[entitled-fangirl]

I can't promise that.

Jace Velaryon x wife!reader

Summary: Jace returns from the Wall, mourning the death of his brother. The reader comforts him in the dead of night.

Warnings: talks of death, mourning, making out, talks of sex, just sad Jace angst

A/n: If I had a nickel for every time I made a Jace fic, and it was an angst, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it's happened twice. I need happy Jace prompts 😭

Masterlist

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Jace's back was to her, but even from there, it was clear something was wrong.

She stepped into the dark beside him and set the candle on the sturdy railing. "My love?"

He finally turned to face her. His eyes were puffy, cheeks red, and hot tears were falling down his face.

She cooed, "Oh, Jace." She rushed to him and took his face in her hands. 

His hands gripped her waist, afraid she'd disappear if he let go. She was almost worried there would be bruises. 

Her stomach dropped at the sound of his light sobs. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she wiped his tears. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll kill him," he muttered through the sniffles.

"Jace, I know you're upset-"

"-Do you expect me to sit here and allow him to get away with this?" He pulled away from her as pure anger came through his voice. "He's killed my brother. He's killed the son of the Queen, the heir to Driftmark!" He began to pace back and forth, the tears still falling. "I vow to kill Aemond Targaryen."

"Don't vow things while you are upset."

"I'm not upset! I'm enraged, wife!" He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to sigh out his frustration. "And you? You seem just fine!"

She let out a breath and gripped the railing. She forced her voice to stay calm. "Jace. You must understand that I've had more time to process this. I am just as horrified as you, I promise."

Jace's breath became shaky as he tried to control his anger. His jaw clenched harshly. He refused to speak, knowing that doing so would only worsen things. 

"I understand your grief, Jace, but you cannot let it cloud your judgment. To want revenge is to start the war your mother is trying to avoid."

"They began it," he sobbed. "If we do nothing then my brother died in vain! Does that mean nothing to you?"

Her eyes softened. "My love…"

"I cannot bear this."

She reached out and caressed his cheek again. "This will pass. You must not let the loss of Luke toil over the brothers you still have left."

He leaned into her palm as he considered her words.

Finally, he collected himself, pulling away and wiping at his face harshly. "Forgive me. For losing my temper with you."

Her brows furrowed at the force he wiped his face with. "It's quite reasonable to be upset. I just don't want you to do something you will regret." 

When he continued to sniffle and wipe at his face, she pulled his hands away. "Perhaps we should take this inside?" She offered.

He nodded and took her hand, grabbing the candle with the other and pulling her inside. Seated on the foot of the bed, he watched her wet a cloth from the tub where she had bathed only hours before.

She stood between his legs and pulled his face up, beginning to gently wipe the cloth over his puffy cheeks, cleaning them of his tears.

He only stared at her, his eyes roaming over her beautiful face studying him. "Promise me something?"

She hummed lightly in question.

"You'll not fight this war."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he beat her to it. "I could not bear to be on that bannister again in the night crying over you. I…" he voice faltered. "I cannot take another loss. Not you."

"I intend to do what the queen needs, Jace," she answered softly.

"What about what your future king needs?" He countered desperately as he gripped her wrist.

Her eyes met his. She was beginning to break down. "You know I can't…"

"Please."

She turned her head away from him, a shaky breath leaving her lips.

"I've always said I'd do anything for you. And you know I will," Jace pushed. His eyes watered again with fresh tears and his voice shook, "Can you not do so for me?"

She opened her mouth and closed it again, finding no words that would suffice. She began to gently wipe at his face again, dragging it down his neck.

"Please, speak," he begged.

She fought the lump in her throat. "You know what I'll say."

He sniffled and nodded, "Then make me a different promise?"

"If I can."

He bit the inside of his cheek. "That if you must fight in this war, it will be by my side."

She smiled, and a small laugh of relief came from her. "That's the most foolish thing you've asked of me, husband. You know that answer as well."

The tension left his shoulders and he flashed that grin that she loves so much. "I suppose it was. Still," he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to him, "I'd like to hear you say it aloud."

She looked down at him, abandoning the cloth and cradling his head in her hands as she spoke, "Jacaerys Velayron, whether I become your queen or I die at the hands of a usurper, I am yours, body and soul, and I will fight for you and with you until my fate is decided."

His thumb rubbed a soothing pattern on her hip bone. "I am yours until my body is buried in the ground with my ancestors. And even beyond then." He smirked, "And there will forever be one woman destined to be mine, I know that quite well. So I either have you as my queen, or we die together as one."

She leaned down and kissed him deeply.

He immediately groaned into her mouth and stood up, his hands pulling and tugging at her waist and lower back as if he could pull her closer.

As if everything else they could've said is shown through their actions.

His hands finally reached up her back to pull at the laces of her dress. His fingers tugged gently.

"J…Jace," she panted as their lips barely parted. "Jace…"

His lips moved down her jaw in fervent kisses, nipping and sucking lightly.

"St…" She gasped when he reached a particularly sensitive spot on her collarbone. Her hands moved to his hair and pulled him away, "Jace, stop."

The word "stop" pulled him from his trance, and he immediately moved away from her. His eyes were wide in worry, "What's wrong?"

"Not tonight," she reasoned. "We shouldn't."

"Why?" He asked softly.

"We're both upset. We may make a mistake if we're not careful."

He hummed, "Loving you is no mistake."

"Jace…"

"I understand," he nodded, keeping disappointment from coming over his face. "Perhaps when our judgment returns?"

She nodded and gazed down at his lips. "I'd like that."

He grinned. "Alright." He stepped closer to her again. "Let us get to bed again."

She intwined her fingers with his and pulled him around the bed, the two settling in as they always do. 

"I miss you greatly, you know," she whispered against his neck as they held each other close. "Dragonstone was rather lonesome without a certain curly-haired prince to keep it company."

"The Wall was even colder than I thought it would be. And I saw snow. Felt it beneath my feet as it chilled me to the bone. And all the while, I thought of you."

 She nuzzled her nose to his jaw, making shivers run down his spine.

She sighed, "We'll make it, won't we? Through this war?"

"I shall pray so to any god that will listen."

She laughed, "I don't believe that's how it works." Her lips brushed up to his jaw.

A bright teasing smile came over him, "I have Targaryen blood, my love. Perhaps we are the gods."

"You surely are mine."

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[haikyu-mp4]

Welcomed mess

Your daughter's bedtime routine with dad Sakusa, for my Parenting event<3

requested by @act-nat-ural. word count; 344 – f!reader

Sakusa’s nose scrunched as he scrubbed away at his toddler while also trying to make her stay seated in the tub. The girl giggled wildly, and after trying to make her sit still and not splash him for too long, he finally sighed and sat back, looking his daughter in the eyes and lifting an eyebrow. “I thought we were a team.”

“Mama,” the girl cooed, making grabby hands at him.

A small smile crept its way between the frown lines and settled on his mouth. “Your mom’s out with her friends tonight, Gremlin.” He leaned back over the tub, carefully lifting her arms one at a time to scrub under them while she babbled.

The smile got stuck as he looked at the tiny mixture of him and you with adoration.

“Yeah, I miss her too,” he answered her as if what she said had any coherence. “But it’s just us tonight and I’m just as capable of getting you to bed without making a mess.”

He was not as confident 15 minutes later, after drying her off and getting to brushing her teeth, only to watch as she spit out any toothpaste and clapped her hands at the white art on his t-shirt.

“You’re a true artist.” Maybe he should have done the bath last.

Eventually, tiny Sakusa was dressed in pyjamas and lay in her bed, which resembled something Goldilocks would deem a little too small.

Her dad sat on a little stool beside her, stroking her cheek with heart eyes as hers started to fall closed. When you first got pregnant, Kiyoomi wasn’t sure if he was ready, but nothing could have prepared him for the protective love he felt when he finally met his daughter. Despite wanting to keep everything clean for most of his life, she was a welcomed mess (but if anyone asked, she got that from you).

“I love you so much,” he whispered before finally getting up, throwing one last look over his shoulder to check the baby monitor was on before leaving the room.

masterlist

for the requester: thank you for another great request!! sorry it's a little short this time<3