#looking very baby cow with those big brown eyes

[christiangeistdorfer]

the class of 1991 wrc drivers having a break during the lombard rac rally

[livwritesstuff]

Have you talked about the girls’ first word yet? Would Steve and Eddie become competitive about it?

Oh they took it very serious, especially with Moe. They had a running bet and everything (the prize was bragging rights, because no amount of money is worth being their first baby’s first word).

Ultimately, Eddie won, which Steve thought was totally bogus because Eddie gets to be at home with her all day so obviously he was gonna be her first word. To make matters worse – she said it to Steve.

The three of them had been in the kitchen one morning, Moe clinging to Steve like she’d been doing lately when she’d pointed to where Eddie was standing at the stove making breakfast.

“Who’s that?” Steve had asked her “Is that…Dada?”

And Moe had looked right at Steve with her big brown eyes, gave him a cheeky smile, and said, “Dada!”

(Eddie waited for the initial excitement and pride to fade before gloating about it).

Robbie’s arrival brought about the bet again, but that time neither of them won because her first word was Moe.

Obviously, they realized afterwards, because Robbie was obsessed with her big sister, and it didn’t take long for her little chirps of Moe to turn into hi Moe and love Moe and where’s Moe?

It was so sweet that neither Steve nor Eddie were too bothered about losing the bet (and Moe does claim her well-earned bragging rights a good few years down the line).

Hazel turned out to be one of those kids who took her sweet time talking.

She could do animal sounds (foreshadowing, Eddie later called it), but not any actual words until she was a few months away from her second birthday.

Steve and Eddie had taken her on a drive around their town on the first really nice day of spring. They were driving past a local farm that let their cows and horses and goats roam around a fenced-in pasture when Hazel said, “I want to see the cows please, Papa.”

They’d been so perplexed that it wasn’t until after they stopped and said hello to the cows (because after that how could they not?) that they realized she’d said Papa.

[finchly-tintinnabulation]

- Scout's Honor - Part 4

Original Ultramarine (Aristaeus) x GN!Reader

<<Prev = Next>>

Tags: SMUT, fluff, cuddling, intercrural sex, reader being affected by bond nonsense, Aristaeus is a big virgin be nice to him

Thank you to @candyswirls for the cuddling headcanons, @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond for reminding me why Aristaeus has big brown eyes like a baby cow, and @daily-shenanigans784 for the beta read WE FUCK 4 MACRAGGE

The Chorus: @thisuserislilsilly

- - -

Your hand flew to the side of your neck, the low ache of the mark stinging anew as your face grew hot. Were there details you had missed, or more likely were omitted for the sake of a professional documentation?

“Come on, you absolutely reek of him.” Diomedes teased, but there was a gentleness in his tone, especially with how alarmed you looked. It was clear enough that you and the Astartes had been given different levels of information about their unusual bodily processes. “I’m sure he’s absolutely dying for you to return the favor. At the very least I’ve heard it can help with a… temporary lack of proximity.”

You smelled stressed. Something clicked into place remembering Aristaeus’s concern. The Astartes had incredibly enhanced sensory capability, being able to track a scent like a bloodhound across a burning battlefield, and read emotions by the subtle cues of baseline hormones. Oddly enough it made sense that the intensely instinctual nature of a bond would be so tied to those primal senses.

“Chin up, Brother! We can show your little human how to make a proper nest, they’re going to be part of the squadron anyway.” Reaching across the table to where Aristaeus sat with his face in his hands, Pallas patted him on the shoulder. Hilariously his ears were flushed as pink as your face felt, and you bit your tongue before accidentally embarrassing him further.

-

Staying alert was a vicious fight that you were rapidly losing, the contentment of being enveloped by warm bodies irresistibly washing over you. The life of a serf was hard labor and strictly rationed rest, so you had little hope of resisting the lure of an afternoon nap. Once finishing lunch, Diomedes had wasted no time dragging Aristaeus off to your now shared room while Pallas went to fetch materials; an armful of well worn blankets and threadbare cushions all in the same Ultramarine blue. It wasn’t hard to imagine generations of neophytes being comforted by these simple amenities

Pulling out your little mattress, the two scouts cheerfully began constructing the nest, something they had been taught to comfort each other. Even without a bond, rut made the Astartes clingy, so they had been instructed to keep their squadmates close. Speaking of clingy, while Aristaeus had resigned himself to Pallas and Diomedes and their help, he sat on his cot and watched them work, keeping you cradled defensively in his lap.

That was where you stayed, even once all three Astartes had settled themself in their pile of soft things, with your head tucked under Aristaeus’s chin and his squadmates snuggled up against either side of him. There was absolutely no hope of escaping with an assortment of enormous arms and legs wrapped around you, but what was the point when it was so very comfortable. All three scouts let out low rumbling vocalizations, something you now recognized as analogous to purring, turning your nerves and thoughts to white noise.

Eyelids heavy, a drowsy sense of curiosity had you shifting slightly, burying your face in the sinewy crook of Aristaeus’s neck. You had nowhere near the senses of an Astartes, but the hind-brained thought of your mate’s scent had you breathing him in. The chemical smell of his enhanced physiology hit your nose like ozone, but it was only for a moment before being superseded by something more warm and sweet, spices and musk and smoke. Somehow you didn’t mind the odd metallic aftertaste of it, knowing it was him.

Is this what he had marked you with? Besides the physical bites, of course. Some signal that you were his, and… you wanted others to know Aristaeus was yours, as well. You hummed, nuzzling against where you could feel the thrum of his hearts pulsing through his carotid artery, his purr trilling as you pressed your lips to it.

Marking him. Without a second thought you sank your teeth into his skin, sucking at his flesh to taste the honeyed tang of his pheromones. Warm and blissful, your mouth tingling as a whine slipped from Aristaeus’s throat, faintly feeling something pressed against your backside. 

“Get out. Both of you, out.” Aristaeus muttered hoarsely, his voice a pleasant buzz to your ears. It took a moment once the enveloping warmth subsided that you seemed to properly rouse, realizing that Pallas and Diomedes were standing and Aristaeus’s purr had become a growl. Had you fallen asleep? It certainly felt like you were awakening from a nap.

“We were getting comfortable, what’s—”

“I said out.” Oh dear.

There was no more arguing as the two scouts hurriedly took their leave, shutting the door behind them, and you finally registered the feeling of embarrassment. You’d seriously just bitten him. Were you about to be punished?

“Sorry…” Aristaeus whined in your ear, and suddenly his bid for privacy took on a much different meaning. What had been pressing against your rear was now rubbing, the marine’s hips twitching as if trying and failing to keep still.

“Uh. What for?” You replied dumbly as the hands that had been wrapped around your torso slid down to grip your hips. You may have had an inkling of what he was apologizing for, and you turned to try and get a better view of his face.

“...I need—” His words were bitten off by a whine as he forcibly tried to loosen his hold on you, face flushed and eyes squeezed shut. “You are so small, I was warned of… harming you. I can’t do it, I’m bigger than you, I don’t know how to—” Never in your life did you think you’d hear a space marine sound scared, but Aristaeus was downright afraid, his deep voice so unsure.

“Oh, Ari.” What sort of sex ed did they give the Adeptus Astartes? Whatever crash course Aristaeus had been absorbed clearly hadn’t prepared him for the act of intercourse, and that was even more disastrous when the poor scout was so immediately needy. Internal damage was also not on your schedule for today, so you tried to think quickly. “...You know you don’t have to go inside, right?”

“I don’t?” Right, so that’s a no. Gently you brushed his hands off your hips, to which he hesitantly obliged, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your trousers and shimmying them down, trying to ignore the choking whimper Aristaeus let out at the sight.

“Between my thighs should provide enough friction. Since you seem to… like them?” You chuckled shyly recalling your first meeting, kicking off your pants and undergarments in one go and shifting off his lap. “Let’s… lay on your side, please.”

“Emperor forgive me.” Aristaeus’s voice was small and harsh, but again he did as he was told, shifting down in the nest and waiting as patiently as he physically could for your next move. Carefully you lay in front of him, not quite slotting yourself against him yet but feeling his body heat radiating against your bare backside.

“...Pull your pants down.” Your voice cracked, feeling him move before you finished your sentence and subsequently punctuating it with something hot and hard slapping against the small of your back. Hands shaking, you tugged the hem of your tunic up and out of the way, lifting your knee by way of invitation for him to… arrange himself.

Hot and heavy, Aristaeus slid himself between your thighs, hovering there for an unbearable moment before pressing you to his body. He was already leaking, dripping thick clear precum onto your skin, the tip flushed so red it seemed to glow with heat. His cock pulsed and he shuddered, as if overwhelmed by the mere touch of your skin, moaning as he pressed his face into your hair.

“Nnh… oh, by the Light…”

Neither of you needed any more encouragement as you squeezed your legs around his shaft, shifting your hips to grind against it, your own arousal growing rapidly. Aristaeus mirrored your movements, small and slow and a bit nervous, following your lead. Back and forth, gauging a rhythm as his leaking tip began to make the space between your thighs slick, gliding like silk. He thrusted forward as you pushed back, your breaths growing heavy in tandem.

That wetness combined with a briefly found tempo finally bore fruit, as the lewd smack of skin on skin met your ears, and Aristaeus was pushed past his anxiety to pure unadulterated need. Gasping, his arms tightened around you like a vice as his hips slammed forward, relentlessly pistoning as a torrent of cries and broken prayers spilled from his throat.

His lips found the junction of your neck again, but instead of his teeth the touch was his soft heated mouth, sloppy ministrations hardly silencing his pleas. The slapping of his hips to yours was growing almost deafening, thrusting so hard it practically knocked the breath from your lungs, struggling to get enough air between that and the fierce hold he had around your chest. The force and friction made your head spin, relentlessly humping up against your groin.

Drooling against your nape, Aristaeus’s words dissolved into a cacophony of pants and groans, his pace lost in favor of desperation. Breathless and dizzy, you barely had time to recognize how close he was, subsequently realizing the mess you were both about to make. You clumsily grabbed a blanket, attempting to cover your crotch just as Aristaeus tipped over the edge with shuddering wail.

Flushed and with your hands covered in spend, you felt struck dumb as stillness suddenly fell over you, the only sound being the shared ragged breathing of you and your mate. Warm, listening to the faint buzz of the machinery tucked into the fortress-monastery’s walls, just breathing.

A large hand gently gripped your shoulder, turning you gently to see Aristaeus looking at you with those big concerned brown eyes. Then, cupping your face, he kissed you. Soft and thankful.

[joelsflannel]

merry christmas, cariño

or joelsflannel presents: a frankie morales christmas

masterlist

pairing: frankie morales x wife!reader rating: absolute tooth-rotting fluff warnings/tags: husband!frankie, dad!frankie, frankie is a girl dad and I stand by that, very fluffy, morales family christmas, kaleigh uses lots of words to say not that many things, blink and you'll miss it barely a reference to TF canon events, not one but TWO sets of big, brown, baby cow eyes, no mentions of religion or anything outside of presents and santa. reader has no specified appearance, pictures are included for aesthetic purposes only. word count: 351 (she's just a baby, your honor) summary: mom and dad get woken up for presents ofc.

A/N: merry pedromas @frenchiereading!! surprise, I'm your pedrostories secret santa and I hope you enjoy your moodboard as much as I enjoyed making it. I couldn't help myself at the thought of christmas girl dad!frankie so I had to write a little blurb. It's a little cheesy but hey, 'tis the season ❤️🎄

dividers by the amazing @saradika

Peaceful. The morning starts out peaceful, the comforting weight of Frankie’s arm holding you impossibly close as the light begins to shine through the curtains. The soft sounds of snores and a smell so warm, inviting, and uniquely Frankie fills your senses and provide a soothing soundtrack for the start of the day. Turning in his grip, you can’t help but admire the sleeping face of your husband. Tracing a gentle finger over the scruff of his jaw with an almost reverent gaze. The way his mouth parts slightly and the ever-present worry lines between his eyebrows fade with the warm embrace of sleep. The peace doesn’t last long, replaced by the sound of small feet pattering down the hall and sweet giggles growing closer before the door swings open. 

“Mama! Daddy! He came, he came!” The excitement in your daughter’s voice is enough to stir Frankie’s sleeping form, his arms tightening around you one last time before sitting up. His sleepy eyes sparkle in a way that melts your heart into a puddle. The perfect father, the way he grabs hold of his little girl and litters her small face with kisses, matching brown eyes caught in a battle of who can out puppy dog eye who. After a few minutes of laughter and your daughter deciding that you make a great tickle target (read: your daughter begging to go downstairs to unwrap her presents from Santa), you finally make your way downstairs. Spoiler alert: her puppy dog eyes win every time. 

It’s been a long year, one made exponentially better by the warmth brought by your little family. The little giggles, the sound of wrapping paper being torn open to reveal months of hard work met with bright eyes, the feeling of Frankie’s arms wrapping around you as the two of you curl up on the couch and watch your daughter play with her new toys. She’s completely entranced by them, only tearing her attention away to look up every now and then with a “Mama, Daddy, look!!” that warms your heart in a way that no fire could hold a candle to. 

“Merry Christmas, Santa.” you turn your head to look up at Frankie, those strong arms tightening as your eyes meet his. He shakes his head with a laugh before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “Merry Christmas, cariño.”

[i-arch-my-backula]

Baby cow eyes: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn reader

I literally can't write like anything at the moment so y'all are getting this very stupid little blurb about how I think Ghost has baby cow eyes. Update: Someone commented that this is a compliment in Turkish culture so I guess I’m not alone on this :)

Warnings: None I can think of

"Have I ever told you that you have baby cow eyes?" You ask Ghost, who's sitting across from you at the kitchen table.

"I'm sorry I have what?" He asks.

"You have baby cow eyes," You repeat to him, "You know how baby cows have like big brown eyes and stuff? You have those eyes." You take another bite of your bagel as Ghost just looks at you, dumbfounded.

"Are you saying I'm a cow?" You shake your head.

"I'm not. It's like how people say doe eyed and stuff. I'm not calling you a cow I'm just comparing your eyes to a baby cows." He's a little surprised at how comfortable you are just telling him this. You two know each other pretty well but it's still a little surprising to hear someone you've known for a few years now telling you your eyes remind them of a baby cow's.

"Are you trying to compliment me or something?" He asks. You nod.

"Yeah it's a compliment. I just think you have nice eyes that remind me of a baby cows is all." Ghost nods and gets up from the table.

"Don't say that around anyone else. But thank you I guess."

[theclaravoyant]

buddie + a kiss on the back of the neck. (bonus points for kitchen scenes, my beloved)

from this prompt list. also for the anon who requested buddie + a romantic kiss, although i may well write a separate one for that too!

AN ~ fluff. shameless, embarassing fluff.

- Eddie has dreamed of mornings like this. Literally. The only thing missing is the blurry-edged filter his mind tends to supply – although, his sleep-addled eyes are doing their best imitation. He wakes to the sweet smell of pancakes and maple syrup and salty bacon and scrambled eggs and his stomach growls.

He pinches himself on the back of the hand. Shakes it out. Yep, unless his brain has trained in covert operations while he wasn't looking, he's no longer dreaming. So he pads out into the kitchen feeling soft and sleepy and vulnerable and wonders how quietly he can deposit himself at the tiny dining table. Could he make it to the coffee machine and back without causing a disturbance?

It doesn't matter. He lingers instead, and gets caught up in watching. Buck is currently in an argument with a pancake, cursing as the acrid smell of burning hits his nostrils and forces him to turn on the rattling range-hood fan. Eddie's eyes trace his dance backward and forward; the way his shoulders hunch as he tries his best to salvage it, muttering threats and condolences in equal measure as he scrapes it free and evacuates it to the plate.

Eddie moves closer, because he can now, and he wraps his arms around Buck's hips.

Buck just frowns down at his work.

“You need a new stove,” he grumbles. “A new fry pan, at the very least.”

“A poor workman blames his tools, Buck.” Eddie presses a kiss to the back of Buck's neck, and another to the spot where it meets his shoulder. It still kind of surprises him, how naturally this comes to him. He's been waiting for someone to kiss in the kitchen his entire goddamned life. And he smells like pancakes.

“I- I have become accustomed to a certain lifestyle,” Buck attempts to explain. “A certain standard of cookware- What are you-”

Eddie pulls away to pick up the burnt pancake and take a bite. Buck looks appalled. Eddie looks him in the eyes.

“Delicious,” he mumbles, beaming around the mouthful of it, “burnt and all. But you already knew that.”

Buck could just about melt. It's not fair how romantically Eddie speaks sometimes, let alone how fluffy his hair is in the morning, and how much of it he's been blessed to see lately. Or how much he really, really wants to kiss the crumbs off his lips all of a sudden. And so, he does, and he finds that even his morning breath isn't too bad, drenched in batter and syrup and a sizeable dose of how lucky am I?

Eddie looks at him a little bit swoony afterwards with those big brown baby-cow eyes, and Buck wonders how on Earth the two of them ever got anything done.

“You know,” Eddie offers. “We should finish unpacking your kitchen stuff, since mine is suddenly so terrible. Christopher will be back from camp tonight and expecting your finest.”

“Mm. Tough critic, that kid.”

“I dunno. I think you've got a shoe in.”

“Printed a reference from my landlord, just in case.”

“Buck.” Eddie rolls his eyes, and he's so deeply in love his chest actually hurts. “Be serious. He's going to be so happy.”

“He'll probably call us both idiots.” “Yeah, well.” Buck kisses him one more time, and wonders how he hasn't been doing this for years. “When he's right, he's right.”

[girlboyburger]

What are your favorite cow breeds?

SO i've answered this question before BUT i want to answer it again but my opinion have slightly changed i love literally all bovines. they're such a neat type of animal that come in sooo so many shapes and sizes with the connecting factor being incredibly cute and big all across the board. thhhat being said, i'd say that jersey / holstein cows are still pretty close to the top of my list in faves. jerseys are just. gonjus. pretty pretty shades of brown / orange and decently docile temperaments. also very common around where i live so bonus points for being a type of cow i've interacted with

holstiens are your Average Black and White cow ! equally pretty and make up about 90% of cow breeds in the US. they've been around for almost 2,000 years and i can not stress ENOUGH how much of a weak spot i have for animals that have cute pink noses. big big babies ;u; also a cow i have Experience With because i'm in da midwest, so i can drive about 20 mins in any direction and come upon these guys

(also only partially related; don't cows just have such kind eyes?? such a warm and soulful animal everytime i look at pics like this i want to kiss them on the tall forehead.) so, those answers are the same as last time. BUT. but. i want to take this post to direct everyone's attention to zebu cattle. because they're absolutely beautiful and interesting and underrated imo. Feast your eyes on this Beast

theyre just s. so the animal of all time.

[anabdaniels]

Flufftober 2023 with Agent Whiskey - Day 1- Holding hands

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Word counting: 450

Rating: General audiences

Another magnificent sunset has come on the ranch. You and Jack had spent a good part of the afternoon out there, riding your horses around the propriety. Now you two were just sitting on the doorsteps of the porch in front of the house, watching the horses playing around with each other, while a few cows were mooing a couple miles ahead.

You moved your look from the horizon when you felt Jack’s fingers playing with your wedding ring, making you smile and lay your head on his shoulder. You and Jack were two non-stop talkers, but there were sometimes when just staying next to each other without saying a word was everything the two of you needed, and that moment was for sure one of those cases. Feeling the weight of your head on his shoulder, Jack kissed your forehead and looked at you with that beautiful warm brown gaze, the orange light of the setting sun lightening his gorgeous face under the brim of his Stetson hat.

After a while, you slid down to the next step, sitting between Jack’s legs and resting your upper body and head on his stomach. He smiled openly at how adorable you looked and moved his arms, reaching for your hands and holding both of them. You closed your eyes and relaxed, just enjoying the feeling of his big rough hands holding yours in such a gentle way, playing with your fingers or caressing your palms, kissing your wrists a few times as he always used to do, making you sigh with the soft tickle of his mustache on your skin.

The slight movement of his stomach, while he breathed, made your head move softly up and down, feeling pretty much like the soft rocking one would use to calm a baby and make you relax completely. You smiled once more when Jack pressed his lips gently on the top of your head, while still wrapping your hands with his, which was a really easy task for him since his hands were considerably bigger than yours. He intertwined his fingers on yours, caressing the back of your right hand while once more letting his fingers play with your wedding rings on the other hand.

At that point, the sun was almost gone, the chickens were already back on the chicken coop, ready to sleep, the wind was fresher than when you came back home, and you could hear the sound of the dogs’ paws walking towards their water bowls after they come back home. You and Jack knew that very soon the cold of the night would force you two to walk inside, but until there, neither of you would go anywhere.

Flufftober masterlist

[steelycunt]

hi so i have a question for you about the way you picture r in your head bc i think you have a really good grasp on him in your writing and bc i can picture everyone else p clearly but r is just so nebulous to me and it's hard to find a reference bc most ppl tend to use references that are much too pretty. i do think r has a quality about him that is attractive but ONLY to a small, freaky niche of ppl. like...if you're into that. and i think btwn him and s he is more likely to be a bit twinkish maybe. like i think he can be clocked. and that's why lesbians like tonks are perhaps instinctively attracted to him (again, niche market..) anyway just wondering if you have any must haves in your head when you think of r appearance-wise

hello!! to be honest all characters in anything i read tend to be a bit nebulous to me, i can picture quite decisively certain features but i cant make them sit on one face without blurring and sliding and fading. i agree that people usually use references that are far too pretty, like models or pinterest eboys or whatever. i think its really lame and boring to make out that hes a conventionally attractive stud...it goes so against him as a character and i also think its pretty lame that you have to do that to a character in order to be interested in him. anyway!

i dont think r is ugly or anything, and apart from anything i dont really believe in ugliness so when i do use that i mean it only in regards to features that conventional beauty standards shun/would deem 'ugly'. i think hes mainly just very plain and regular looking, like a normal human guy, unremarkable. i dont think people (unless you are s) look at him and generally remark upon his attractiveness the way they would with s. there are a dozen guys that look like him walking down the street at any one time. one thing i do believe in is his very large wet sad tired dark-circled baby cow eyes (brown or green) and his very long lashes...i think he maybe does have an attractive quality to him because he is kind and clever and such but i also think most people do...and that is still lightyears away from him being like model-hot with a chiseled jaw or anything like that.

otherwise i think i will never not picture him with a big nose...he has mousy brown (prematurely greying) floppy hair...it really throws me off when people describe him as blond or as having auburn hair enough that ive stopped reading before. i imagine him as being lanky and gangly and i HATE musclar/broad-shouldered/ripped r i think its pathetic. as if he'd fucking ever. definitely more so than s who while i still dont believe hes ripped i imagine as a bit more muscular! lean! but yeah i think those are the essentials to how i imagine him! sort of scratchy looking, hair must be brown and floppy, nose must be big, build must be brittle. he is very lovely 2 me

[yurodiivy]

My Old Man is a Bad Man

(Joel Miller x FemReader)

Summary: 18+ PWP It's predominantly fucking sorry Chief.

Content Warnings: rough sex/choking/slapping/references to violence/kinda mean joel/unprotected PiV/dirty talk/use of slut whore etc/reader calls joel sir

Notes: long time listener first time poster, first fanfic ever be nice to me or I'll cry ty. I'm old n unsure how formatting works so if I do it wrong feel free to yell at me.

Your old man is a bad man. You see the sideways glances from other people, hear their whispers and the sneer in his voice when he speaks to them. You wash the blood out of his clothes without asking questions and lick the taste of metal off his knuckles. But he’s oh so sweet to you, doting, tender. Leaning down to coo into your ear in public, keeping you tucked into his side staking a claim that begs to be challenged. A cheque he’s already cashed more times than you can count in chipped teeth and broken ribs. You didn’t think it was possible to feel kept given the whole apocalypse thing but it’ll take more than cordyceps and biblical ruin to stop Joel Miller being a gentleman. You can’t remember the last time you opened a door or carried anything heavier than a cup of coffee. 

In bed he touches you like you’re made of glass, telling you how pretty you are, how gorgeous, how sexy, how his. Happy to spend hours between your legs lapping gently at your pussy. Leaving an endless trail of kisses on your neck,  your shoulders, on the pink skin his scruff leaves on the inside of your thighs. Cradling your face in his big hands tracing his thumb over your lips, forehead pressed against yours and those big brown baby cow eyes staring into your soul while he fills you. 

But you know this side of him is just for you and you don’t know what it says about you that you want to see the side of him he gives to everyone else. It’s all you can think about, when he’s asleep, tracing your fingers over the line between his eyebrows permanently creased from the frown that settles there from the moment he crosses the threshold to your house until he comes home to you. How big his hands feel and how rough his palms are against your soft skin when he touches you oh so gently.

How strong he is in that way that only comes from a lifetime of work, and when he holds you at night the cage of his arms stirs something within you, distinctly masculine and so very capable- if only he’d show you what they’re capable of. 

You’ve lost track of how long he’s been knelt between your legs, his tongue never leaving your clit as he works two fingers into you preparing you as diligently as always. His other hand strokes slow, patient circles into your thigh, looking up at you with what you want to call contentment but know closer borders reverence. 

That’s when it happens, he forgets himself; just for a second but it’s enough. As the knot tightens in your stomach your thighs snap shut around his head. It’s instinctual, his hand big and unforgiving as it forces your thigh back down against the bed but the combination of it and the noise of displeasure low in the back of his throat is enough to make you keen. A whimper that sounds more animal than human tearing from your throat as you cum around his fingers. 

“Are you okay sweet girl did I hurt you?” Melted chocolate eyes all caramel and concern when they find yours. 

“Do it again” you whisper, “please Joel, want you to use me. Want you to take it” 

He opens his mouth to protest, to ask what you mean; but something in your voice makes him pause, makes him say instead “do you know what you’re asking for?” with a tilt of his head and a lilt to his voice that makes heat pool in your belly. He’s not blind, he’s seen the way your thighs clench together when he raises his voice, felt how you tighten around his cock when he gets impatient and takes you against the wall of your house. 

“Yes, I trust you” 

He doesn’t say anything just looks you over greedy and appraising in a way that makes you feel more like meat than the altar you were two minutes ago. It wasn’t a lie when you said you trust him, but there’s a part of you that knows how easily he could tear you apart. You know who he is, you know what he’s done, but there’s a worse part of you that likes it, that preens under him. The sacrificial lamb displaying its sweetest cuts for the wolf. 

He doesn’t take his shirt or his jeans off just unbuckles his belt and shoves his jeans down enough to free his cock. It’s heavy and impossibly thick in his hand, stroking it as he lazily swipes the flushed pink tip through your wetness. 

“Please, I need it please just put it inside” the words are tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them. Until he stops them, and you’re reminded once again of his size as his hand covers your mouth and half your face, squeezing until you cry out.

“Here’s how this is going to work, you’re going to shut up and take it until I ask you to talk. You do as you’re told or you get nothing, understood?” You nod under his hand and he lays a quick slap across your face before his hand slides down around your throat, not enough to hurt but enough to make you shiver under him. 

“Repeat it” he snaps.

“I’m going to shut up and take it until you ask me to talk” you breathe.

He pushes your jaw to the side and leans in to press a soft kiss at your hairline below your ear, so gentle compared to his hand around your throat it makes your heart swell. “Safeword is chamomile or you tap twice on my arm, understood?” 

“Yes Sir” you whisper and feel more than him growl against your cheek. 

He spreads your thighs wide apart, dragging two calloused fingers through your wetness making you twitch; already oversensitive from his earlier attention. 

“Too sensitive already? Too bad” he mutters cruelly, pressing the blunt head of his cock against your entrance giving you half without a second to adjust. You let out a strangled cry at the intrusion before he forces those two slick fingers past your lips. “Thought I told you to be quiet huh?” He sneers, laying another quick slap across your cheek. When he slides in to the hilt, hips flush your jaw throbs with the effort not to bite down around his fingers. He laughs darkly when your legs snap shut vice tight around his waist, forcing them back down against the bed with an ease that makes your thighs tremble. “Thought this was what you wanted sweet girl? Wanted me to use you, take what’s mine?” He’s right, and that self-sabotaging part of your brain perks up, bites back against that look that shows he thinks he’s broken you this easily. It’s that part that makes you hold his gaze, reaching up to wrap a hand around his wrist and force his fingers deeper into your throat- refusing to blink as tears pool at the corners of your eyes. Moaning low and deep around his fingers at how impossibly full you are. It snaps something within him, and you coyly add the last shred of his self-control to the list of everything else he’s given you. 

The pace is brutal, every harsh thrust bruising against your cervix tightening the coil in your stomach tighter and tighter. His hands are everywhere. In your mouth, in your hair, using his grip on your throat to pull your body down to meet his thrusts. You feel his cock throb inside you at your hoarse gasps every time he loosens his hold on your throat. It makes heat bloom in your stomach, how you can tell there’s a touch of guilt in how much he likes it, likes feeling you breathe and feeling how easy it is for him to stop it. His mouth never leaves your skin; alternating between licking, sucking and biting down harshly, rolling your skin between his teeth. Only stopping to assess his work, groaning appreciatively at the bruises littering your chest and neck. 

You’re so close you can feel it, feel how one brush of your fingers against your clit would send you over the edge, whining in protest when his hand grabs yours before you reach it. His thrusts don’t let up as he grasps your jaw, making you look at him, “Careful little slut, I don’t need to remind you what happens when people touch my property without permission.” the thought makes your head spin.

“Please I need to cum, please Sir I’m so close” your words melt together cut off as he pulls out flipping you over like you weigh nothing, dragging your hips up to slide back into your wet heat your mewls of protest at the sudden emptiness muffled by his hand shoving your face into the sheets. Both of your wrists trapped in his hand behind your back the second one tries to slip between your legs. “Greedy whore, what did I say? You do as you’re told or you get nothing. You wanna cum you’re going to do it just like this” he sneers, the honey drawl of his voice gravelly. “Please I can’t I need you to touch me” you whine into the sheets, damp with drool and tears desperation making your voice crack around the words, every slam of his hips pushing you closer but never quite there. 

He hauls you up so your back is flush against his chest, skin hot and damp with exertion. One of your hands clings to his forearm as he resumes his hold on your throat and he takes your other in his leading it to rest on your stomach pushing it down so you can feel the bulge of his cock through your skin. “Feel how deep I am baby, you’re so fucking close I can feel it, can feel that pretty cunt choking my cock. Making a mess all over my jeans. Giving you what you wanted aren’t I? Look at you, so fucking ruined, look so beautiful crying for me” And he’s right he’s so fucking deep you feel consumed, caged in his big arms feeling how easy it is for him to hold you up against him while he takes you, his lips pressed against your ear, that deep voice reverberating through you drowning out your ragged moans. “Come on sweetheart let me have it, let me feel you gush around my cock” it’s enough to push you over the edge and he almost drops you with how hard you spasm in his arms, vision burning white at the edges. Cunt molten hot squeezing around his cock, still riding your high as he buries a groan in your hair as he cums. 

He doesn’t pull out yet, just collapses pulling you with him, arranging your limbs into a marginally more comfortable position as he presses tender kisses over the marks on your shoulders. “You okay darlin? Need anything, water, you hungry?” You giggle at how quickly he switches back to fussing over you. “Can we do that again?” you ask innocently, playing with his fingers where they lay wrapped around your waist. “Give me a month to catch my breath first, got me fucking like a twenty year old.” You bring his hand to your lips pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “nah, a twenty year old couldn’t make me cum like you do” you whisper. He hums appreciatively against your skin, nuzzling his face into your neck murmuring how much he loves you as you fall asleep.

[chetchad]

🅂🅆🄴🄴🅃 🄱🅄🄽🄽🅈

MDNI 18+

(bunny-hybrid!brad vickers x FEM!reader)

KINKTOBER DAY 3; (hybrids, heat cycles, breeding)

CWs; (handjobs, unprotected p n v, oral f!receiving, heat cycles, hybrids, breeding kink, porn without plot, barely edited, creampie)

You were hesitant while you stared at the shy bunny hybrid before you. His tag read ‘Brad’ while those big brown eyes stared up at you. He was naked most of the time since he made himself at home, it was just his preference. If you wanted him to wear clothes, he'd do it on a whim. Why? Because he had the smallest little crush on you.

His little dick and chubby balls were a little distracting, honestly. The fat head was adorable, followed by the three or four inches of length before hitting the small little patch of fur that he liked to keep maintained. The little nutsack hanging at the base, scrot taut and tight.

Brad adored baths, the bubbles and warm water, while his brown tufts of hair were fluffy from the blow-dryer after he got out while the soft scent of strawberry wafts through the steamy bathroom.

He loves to follow you to the bathroom and cry on the other side of the door if you close it on him. Blubbering about how you hate him and you never actually loved him.

Yeah, Brad's a dramatic little guy. Likes to cry at every inconvenience. He sobbed for an hour straight when someone had cut you two off at a green light when you were taking him home.

He loves cuddles, especially if it's storming and thundering. He loves to almost smother himself against your pretty tits. His bunny ears tickling your nose when he burrowed against you, and made himself at home.

Very very protective. Brad scents you anytime you go out, even if humans can't smell it, hybrids can. He only does it to make sure every other hybrid knows that you're his mate, and his mate only. He won't hesitate to try and fight someone if they get too comfortable around you.

When his heat hit, Brad spent ten minutes staring at the boner he had seen a few times before, but it was very sensitive. The tip swollen and red, leaking like a fucking faucet. Your scent made it worse, just clouding around him like a haze. When you walked inside, he just stared up at you with the saddest, brown cow eyes you've ever witnessed.

He spent a good thirty minutes mindlessly fucking your hand while you watched TV. Brad's little white cottontail was twitching widely, cumming again. And again. And again. And again. It was copious. At least three cups of spunk were spilling from his still heavy balls.

“Baby, are you done yet?” Your tone was tired and soft, watching his hips desperately clap against your fist.

Brad just whined and moaned in response, not showing any signs of stopping his assault on your hand. You almost felt like your palm was raw from the hot friction.

He eventually pulled his still throbbing cock away, leaning down and nosing at your clothed pussy, eyes desperate and pleading. Brad was ready to beg for your cunt. Fill you up with his kits and do it over again once the hypothetical pregnancy is over.

You loved him. You really did. Brad was definitely the light of your life currently, a sweet little bunny to keep you on your toes. But…letting him use your snatch as a device for his heat? That made you feel a little iffy. But he did look like he was about to cry from frustration and pain.

Alas, you hesitantly spread your legs a little, letting him delve under the large hoodie. A soft gasp tore from your lips when his tongue worked feverishly against your panties, desperately wanting to get to that tight, sweet channel.

“O-oh fuck…” you shuddered, feeling his tongue work and lap against your clit through the thin strap of thong.

Brad was in the best place he's ever visited. Thighs squeezing his head, suffocating in heady cunt, and the warmth radiating from it? Brad was already cumming again, painting the couch with white spunk.

Reaching down, your hand clenched on his soft bunny ear and clenched your fist, trying to keep yourself together and not about to squirt in your panties. Now that would be an ego boost for Brad. Making a hot girl squirt just from a little licking? He would never let you live it down.

With vigor, Brad pulled away, yanked your panties off, and shoved his cock full force in your hot heat. Brown eyes rolled back into his skull, thriving in the vice-like grip your pussy gave his cock, practically sucking him back in with each hit of his hips.

“G-gonna fill you up…” Brad whimpered, holding onto your hips awkwardly from the odd angle.

You were softly keening from the nice subtle pleasures at the base of your spine, gripping onto his shoulders, nails digging into the smooth skin.

He rubbed at your fat little clit, panting into your neck and scenting it, “S-so much. You're gonna overflow…”

Well fuck. You already came just from that, pussy clenching very tightly and practically milking his cock for all its worth. Brad mewled, humping against you, his balls tightening up close to him while he painted your cervix with pure white.

You fisted his soft, brown hair, trying to ride the waves of burning hot pleasure. Brad was right with you. Your cunt finally satisfied his heat that felt like it was killing him and clawing at his precious insides.

Pulling out slowly, Brad's limp member flopped against his empty balls, his brown eyes searching your eyes for anything while he ran a finger through your soiled pussy lips. His finger was circling your entrance, scooping the leaking cum and shoveling it back into your quivering walls.

“Keep it in there…” Brad whined with a pout, like you had been purposely pouring the cum from your cunt and it wasn't gravity's doing.

His nose gently rubbed against yours, his forehead softly bumping your tacky one, your guys' skin sticking together with sweat. Brad was practically trembling with the best feelings.

“You're going to have my babies.” Brad whispered against your lips, his long eyelashes brushing against yours.

“...we should get you condoms…”

“No!”

[guzhufuren]

"do you ever think about imaginary lady Huaien smiling bashfully in that carriage" buddy it's been 2 weeks and Li Le's boba eyes have haunted my every waking moment, I have known no peace since. How dare he look straight at the camera while being so lethally doe-eyed. His orbs were orb-ing at levels not seen since First Kanaphan. If those two were ever in the same vicinity the combined powers of their big beautiful brown baby cow eyes would kill me dead. If I had any skills I would make a meme that's just that image of fox demon!Vee seducing a haunted San, where San is me and fox demon!Vee is "imaginary-lady-Huaien-in-the-carriage's devastatingly beautiful orbs", that's the state I'm in. Anyways, yay for more MYATB today, have a wonderful day.

HIS EYES ARE ENORMOUS AND SO SHINY i don't think he is real.. for real, Lele was sent by gay gods to seduce and murder us with his eyes and smile and rosy lips and melodic soft singing. my heart gives up every time he smiles or talks or blinks. fuck. let's have a great time with ep 5, it will be very crazy and deranged today

[jdyyshit]

a man stood in his small, cramped studio apartment right at the very edge of brooklyn

it’s quiet is all his mind musters

the roar of traffic, rumble of engines and the odd yell of a pedestrian or driver is all still very much prevalent. the laughs of teenagers rushing along the sidewalks with their friends, the car alarms blaring.

he tunes it out and focuses his attention back onto folding his shirt. this one old and the colour faded, the threads hanging. he’d outgrown it. he stares down, before shoving it into the duffel.

the creak of the floorboard turns his head. his girlfriend stands there, her eyes puffy and lip bloodied from her insistent chewing. she wears his university sweatshirt, having borrowed (stolen) it long ago. he lets her have it.

because when the bank accounts drained and the cupboards are bare, what does he have left to give?

his love?

except he’s already given all he can. he loves her like she’s his last breath of oxygen before death. the first breath of air after drowning. the virus and the cure. the poison and the antidote.

his brother would forever be more poetic she is my doing and my undoing. his beginning and his end.

she was everything.

so when she cries it cracks his heart.

she stands in the doorway, her arms wrapping around her chest, looking at him through misty lenses.

they’ve had this conversation before.

the fears, the tears. everything.

they have no other option, there’s nothing.

“we have to go, baby.”

her breath hitched “i know.”

“i’m sorry.”

“you’re not acting like it.”

he sighs, putting his shirts down. he grasps her wrist and pulls her gently onto the mattress on the floor. she curls slightly, her scraped knees drawn into her chest.

“remember our promise?” he murmured.

she hums, burrowing into his chest, tucking her head under his chin.

they fit like puzzle pieces.

“a big house with a big yard and surrounded with field.”

she nods.

“a garden with your favourite flowers. chickens, so we don’t buy eggs. maybe a cow or two. a wrap around porch to sit and watch the sunset.”

“a big fireplace that we drink hot chocolate by in the winter.” she says.

“with marshmallows?”

“with marshmallows.”

“a library” he continues “with all the books you can read.”

“a letterbox with our names on it.”

she leans into him and he breathes her in. lavender.

even if he was blind he could probably recognise her by that smell alone.

he’d feel for the soft skin of her cheek, the wispy curls of her hair, the rasp in her voice when she woke up.

“you forgot something.” her voice is low, almost drowned over by the noises of the city.

“what?”

“the pattering of little feet.” she adds

“huh?” his eyebrows knit together “like a dog?

“mhm. something like that.” she replies, and he feels something in her voice that’s like she’s revealing something hidden. a treasury of secrets almost. without another thought, she takes his arm and pulls it around her stomach.

oh.

something flutters in his chest. something unusual.

dangerous.

hope.

he blinks, twice. then looks at her, her angelic features even more gorgeous in the light of dusk. he lifts her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckle.

“one day” his voice cracks “i’m going to get you that house. those flowers. those books. i’m going to take care of you and we’ll never have to worry about food or money.”

i swear.

he leaves that unsaid, but he’s never meant anything more.

the sun’s lowering now and they turn to watch it.

all he can picture is her brown doe eyes and his chubby bright cheeks. he pictures tying shoe laces and sports practice and tiny shoes by the door of house he’s going to build her.

they watch the sun shift over it’s horizon. setting over the city, once the city of their dreams.

now all they have is their dusty apartment, their luggage, a little secret in their hearts and two plane tickets with their names on it.

and for today, that’s enough.

[mudmoistener]

new flatmate is so pretty. got those big brown baby cow eyes. barely makes eye contact. idk why but it's fun for me when he struggles to not look at my tits when I'm in a low cut top. he's very clean and quiet so far. wish he was a bit louder coz I keep worrying he can hear me masturbate lmao

[spider-mar2004]

🍼🌙First Parenting Night🌙🍼

Warnings: N/A, but some breastfeeding (Not detailed)

After that exactly 31th October day, it was a chaotic day for the both new spider parents. All things were a bit complicated.

The birth of a little one wasn't easy for the mother in that moment, but fortunately he was born alive, and that's the most important thing.

But god, the one who suffered worst was Kaine even he wasn't the one giving birth, but mentally? Nah, all the stress and anxiety was a pain indeed, but, as he saw his first and little miracle, he felt a moment where all problems were gone.

Seeing those small eyes shut, reddish skin and very dark brown wet hair, wrapped in a warm blanket like a little burrito. It was very adorable see two giants with a fragile tiny one.

When all returned to home, all seemed peaceful, a moment where all problems, all bad situations were disappeared from the existance. But, not all is pink color as other thinks. Having a tiny child became a giant responsability for both and takes a ton of time, but well, they made the child, their responsability.

Currently it was late midnight, around 3 AM, all the lights off, only the dark sky, the both big parents were asleep, Kaine was doing the little spoon as always, it became his favorite sleep pose after he started his romance with Marlette. They tried to finally sleep, because geez that kid didn't give peace.

Since they had recently a home, it was pretty small, a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom and a bedroom, pretty simple.

The newborn's cradle was next the bed of the parents, it was small but at least enough for sleep comfortable. The baby named Oliver was breathing during his sleep, until then he felt his little tummy growl, the weird sensation made frown his face into of annoyance, his both little legs kicked as slowly started to grunt, his arms moving and then started to cry.

That sudden sound made first Kaine quickly open his brown eyes, then he snorted while Marlette groaned tired and kept her eyes closed.

"Go check him..."

She mumbled, wanting to sleep back again, very weird for a nocturnal lady but, she had her reasons to be at that state. The clone slowly stood up, he was being shirtless with just a pair of red shorts, so he went to the cradle and gently picked the miracle up, slowly rocking.

"Shh shh shh, okay that's it, papa it's here."

But Oliver kept crying, opening his teethless mouth and his legs began to do kicks. As the father tried to calm down, he found out that actually was hungry. Usually the mother had to feed every more than two hours due being born with a tiny bit underweight, so it made sort of sense.

"Ahh... You hungry, A'ight little one, let's get the milky cow."

He slightly smirked as he joked, Marlette as she heard that joke her eyes opened and side eyed at Kaine with a grumpy face.

"At least i am not fat anymore, hmph."

She slowly sat up and then she would gently hold her baby as Kaine softly gave her him. She slowly rocked Oliver and would unite him on her chest, feeling the warmth and that scent he loved, which it calmed down only the half, somehow Kaine was a lil jealous because well, secretly the mother one was him maybe.

Oliver began to whine, looking for his favorite meal. Marlette already understanding the gestures, she would start to breastfeed him.

As he latched, he would now calm down his sounds, turning them into a silence as he began to drink his mother's warm milk. Kaine watched the scene between son and mother, he sighed and then slowly sat down beside her.

"So... Do you think he might have your height?"

"Our genes can be sometimes random, but i swear he is going to be strong and... Maybe have a same face of you, yeah."

She yawned and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"This little one can be so clingy with you, i guess he is going to have my personality or whatever..."

"He already does Kaine, he is going to be a big angry coconut, just like you."

She kissed his cheek, with a low sigh, poor mother. She was so tired after bring the kid to the world, so she closed her eyes.

Before support then her head back to the bed's header, Kaine would put a pillow so she could be more comfortable. Marlette would now drift to sleep, breathing quietly, not bothered feeding Oliver who kept drinking. The father looked at them both, a warm sensation came to his head and chest, then slowly and gently would kiss Marlette's lips carefully, and then gently caress Oliver's cheek with his thumb.

"Thanks..."

He whispered, then he looked away at the window, staring at that sky, seeing two stars in a short distance, with suddenly a smaller one appeared between them.

The new start would come now.

[dylawas-reblogs]

Y'know there are enough responses here I think I'm gonna try to formulate why this bugs me so bad.

For me at least, it's not about Gale's ability to emote. It's not about his big baby cow eyes (though I fucking love his big baby cow eyes). It's a duality of things, I think, one certainly more obvious in everyday culture and fandom (imo), and the other probably a bit more of a reach on my part, admittedly, but it's in the back of my mind regardless.

The first thing is that brown eyes are already considered "the default" or "boring." It's been this way as long as I can remember. I can't tell you how many times I as a kid wished I had green eyes, and even as an adult I've considered colored contacts if only to make myself more "interesting." Seeing this man be as gorgeous as he is with brown eyes is comforting. It makes him feel warm. Gale feels warm and safe. He can "emote" just fine with any other color, but the feeling he conveys with different colored eyes isn't the same. Changing his eyes to some steely blue just makes him feel like a generic copy-paste supermodel-- and that's not why I like him. Steely blue makes him feel distant. Cold. Another picture in a magazine.

Now please know this is not meant to disparage blue eyes, or any other eye color. Those eye colors can be just as welcoming on other people. In a sense, Gale was quite literally not made for any eye color other than brown. That's why other colors look so wrong on him. He was probably modeled and designed with brown eyes in mind.

The second reason changing his eye color bugs me-- and again, I reiterate, this is likely a reach on my part, please take this with a hefty chunk of salt-- is it gives me this vibe of "This is not the perfect man unless he fits this criteria of XYZ." On one hand, this reads like toxic masculinity (and I've already got thoughts about all these 8 strength male companions having six packs). On the other, even farther reaching hand, we're gonna start veering dangerously close into certain ideologies a certain group from the 1930's and 1940's had for humanity's "ideal" appearance. Like I said, take this with a hunk of salt; I'm probably reading way too deeply into it. And the first user I saw changing Gale's eye color was also darkening his skin-- which hosts its own other set of questions and concerns I am not well-versed enough to venture into, but does contradict my neo-ism alert or whatever you want to call it.

The short version is, changing Gale's eye color makes me wonder why the OP feels the need to do so. And most of the answers I can think of do not paint OP and their way of thinking in a very positive light.

Look man I ain't kidding if I see people drawing/taking screenshots of Gale with any eye color other than brown (purple is on THIN ice bc Lore) they get the block, full stop. Why change his natural beauty like that? Why isn't the brown good enough for you? I don't trust that. I don't trust that at ALL.