#on my belly arms tucked beneath me

[phoenixofthestars]

I always struggled to make something like this when I was little. I wished, and still wish, that it was comfier for me to curl up and lay my head down on a pillow sitting on the edge of a nest inside a den.

i love stacking pillows around myself when i sleep like yes. im in a den. what about it

[aangelinakii]

BATBOYS + SITTING ON THEIR BACK DURING PUSH-UPS.

note : personally i would love someone to push up w me on their back ,,, and also no damian just becquse i couldn't rhink of a scenario soz aloz

BRUCE WAYNE.

the kids had forced offered bruce a night off, after performing his nightly duties too many months in a row. now, sitting in bed with a book, you found it difficult to concentrate on the printed words as your partner lingered on the floor by his side of the bed, his quick breaths huffing through your shared bedroom. what on earth could he be doing? flipping the corner of your page down to save your place, you folded the book shut and put it down, rolling over the bed to peer over the side... only to find your wonderous bruce wayne... doing push ups?

"what are you doing?" you'd chuckled with a soft shake of your head.

muscles rippling beneath the flesh of his back, bruce brought his body down, and then pushed himself back up again, his triceps straining against skin. with a grunt he glanced back at you, never ceasing movement. "i need to get energy out before i go to bed. mind you, i'm not usually relaxing by this time."

another laugh brushed past your lips. "then that's not tiring you out." but bruce only sent you another glance, more sheepish this time; you couldn't blame him, not being accustomed to how one normally retires for the evening.

before he could reply again, you were slinging a leg over the side of the mattress and landing on the plush carpeting. bruce's exercise ceased in curiosity, his head turning to run his gaze over your legs. "oh, no, don't stop on my behalf," you grinned, carefully tucking one of your shins along his back and lowing the rest of your weight onto him.

but bruce wayne didn't falter a bit.

instead, he took it in his stride, tucking his arms and moving down, and then pushing up even faster than he'd been doing before. but he couldn't hide the crescent of his eyes and lines at the corners of his mouth as they turned up — he could do this all night.

DICK GRAYSON.

bullets of sweat shot to the floor with each punch, his flesh grunting against the boxing bag hanging from the ceiling. it never had the chance to swing too far, for he was already hitting it from the other side. although you weren't going as hard at it as your boyfriend, your own limbs were straining from exercise.

with a loud exhale, dick stepped away from the swinging sand bag, holding out a shaking hand to steady it. before it could stop, he was already moving to one of the ready-laid mats.

without a second too long of a break, he was down on his palms, moving up and down, his triceps tensing and bulging in his flesh. the way he kept glancing at you every few moments was making it very difficult to focus on your own workout.

ceasing your movements, you looked over at him with crossed arms. "anything i can help you with?" it was half a joke, expecting him to just grunt a chuckle and shake his head, getting caught red-handed checking you out. instead, he allowed a few seconds' silence, and then hummed.

"yes, actually." his voice was strained against his action, but he'd be damned if he stopped now just to speak. "come here, will you?"

it's not like you're busy or anything. but who were you to deny one dashingly handsome dick grayson your time and energy; especially when that's what you were dating him for.

unable to bite back a smile, you made your way over. "okay... what now?"

"sit on my back."

despite the tension in his throat as he spoke, dick didn't pause his push-ups — and you were supposed to sit on him like this? right...

however strange it may have been to try sit down on a moving man's back, the sheer fact dick could push-up your body weight made it worth it (no matter how many times you fell off before finally sticking it).

JASON TODD.

relaxing days — no work, no appointments, nothing to do — had to be the best days. especially here, as you and jason lay belly-down on the floor, using your glorious free time to complete a puzzle book you'd found at the grocery store the other day.

well... jason was belly-down on the floor; you were belly-down on his back, peering over his shoulder and pointing at the page, giving your contributions.

it got to the point where you were both on the last page, pen marks etched into the paper from where you'd scribbled answers and numbers and words, but you were stumped. with a huff, jason flicked the pen from his fingers, landing with a thump a metre away. "how are they gonna make puzzles you can't even solve? stupid..."

"hey, hey," you chuckled, bringing your fingers to scratch lovingly at his jaw. "i can get us a new one. want to go now?" as the words left your mouth, you moved one leg from where it lay entwined with his, preparing to get ready for an outing.

but jason was too quick, and too stubborn. before you could react, he'd pulled one arm from beneath him and lightly pressed down on your back, keeping you in place. "no, i'm joking," he mumbled. "please, let's just stay."

anything for him.

and so you fell limp against him once more, arms folding beneath your chin so you could rest your head, eyes fluttering closed. silence ran through the apartment, aside from the soft workings of jason's breathing beneath your ear; outside the city buzzed, but, by now, it was more background noise. perhaps a little nap wouldn't hurt—

something was moving beneath you, and your eyes shot open in alarm, arms shooting out from beneath you and clinging to the nearest thing – which happened to be around jason's waist. although you weren't moving, the coffee table beside you was bobbing up and down, and you couldn't possiblt fathom what was happning, until you realised...

"don't want to miss a workout," jason grunted from below, as if reading your mind. no lazy day was truly lazy when you had a jason peter todd to mind.

TIM DRAKE.

"i bet i could do that," tim spoke from the other end of the couch, where his socked feet were prodding your legs, probably in a surreptitious attempt to get them massaged. "no sweat."

you glanced between the tv and him, your lovely boyfriend tim, who would come up in the dictionary if you searched for the word overzealous. on the screen, playing the scene of a bizarre film you'd flipped to, the main love interest was working out when the main character stumbled into the room; there was some fleeting dialogue, and then, before you could find an explanation for it, she was sitting on his back as he continued his workout.

"what, you—" now when you looked over at tim, he had that wide grin on his face, and you knew you were in for something. "you want to try it now?"

without much of an answer, tim was rising to his feet, adjusting the waistband of the linen pyjama pants he wore, and fell to his hands and knees. "i mean, if you insist," he scoffed playfully. "try not to fall in love with me even more."

something about this didn't feel right... tim was certainly muscular, certainly strong — you'd seen him in action — but you didn't have much trust in him this time. regardless of your worries, you shimmied from your seat on the couch and carefully arranged yourself, legs crossed, on tim's back.

he only shook a bit at first, his legs now outstretched behind him, arms firm as logs. but he wasn't moving, just frozen in the plank position.

peering over his shoulder at him, you asked, "what's with the hold-up?"

pink in the cheeks, jaw clenched, tim's voice barely came out through his teeth. "yeah, just... wait—"

carefully – and very slowly – tim lowered himself, and in addition you, down, until his toned chest was millimetres away from the floor, and then, just as slowly, he pushed back against the ground.

once he was back in his starting position, he shifted beneath you, almost toppling you overboard. "okay, okay, i'm done!" he gasped. "my abs are gonna kill me!"

DUKE THOMAS.

being sick for the past week, you'd found it difficult to encourage yourself out of the house to go visit the gym — so, instead, you'd resorted to working out at home.

duke returned home the moment the sun began to dip below darkening clouds, his warmth radiating through the house as he closed the door behind him. he called something into the living room, but it went unheard beneath the instructions playing on the telly.

"oh, you working out?" he hummed as he entered, raking his eyes over your form and the synchronised movements on the tv screen.

mid-movement, you grunted a yeah, and duke edged around you to sit on the couch.

finally, when your break came, you collapsed to your mat and turned to him, grabbing your water bottle on the coffee table. "how was patrol?" you breathed.

the corners of duke's mouth turned up in a grin, clearly bemused by the sheen of sweat along your brow. "yeah, great." his eyes glanced over to the screen — two more minutes of your break, and it looked like you'd be attempting a five-minute plank. "mind if i work in with you?"

you glanced back, sipping at your water, and gave a half-chuckle. "i would've thought you'd be too tired for more exercise."

duke's bottom lip jutted out with a casual shrug. "i've missed you, we can do it together."

unfortunately, you couldn't ignore that little smile, that charm he held like a secret. and so you put your water bottle back on the table and duke joined you, beside your mat.

when the timer was up, you braced yourself for your plank, but duke, also on his knees, caught your attention — some stupid smile lingered on his lips, like he had a cheeky plan. "i don't know if a plank will be difficult enough for me."

"well done," you scoffed playfully. "just because it's easy for you, doesn't mean it's easy for me."

he held out a hand to diffuse any wrong ideas. "no, i just meant i think i know a way to break a sweat."

at this, you eyed him suspiciously, albeit curiously. before you could question him any further, he was on his palms and tip of his toes, gesturing you to sit on his back.

after a few "are you crazy?"s, you found yourself sitting on his back, trying not to touch him too much with your overly-warm limbs, lowering and raising with ease, your youtube workout by now forgotten.

[themotherofhorses]

simon riley x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. soft smut. breeding kink.

On the continuation of my “Soft!Ghost” ideas: 

Imagine lovemaking with Simon. 

Simon has you—his pretty girl—tucked inside his bedroom, sandwiched between him and the mattress. Right in his arms, where you rightfully belong. 

(In his arms, you’re protected. Safe. Nothing could possibly ever harm you.)

Of course, the intensity of sex differs with his moods. On some days, he is a delicious mix of dominant and aggressive, claiming your body with a certain roughness that reflects how possessive he is over you. But, on other days, all Simon wants is to possess your heart and soul, in some desperate frenzy to stake his claim over them. 

You were made for Simon. In his eyes, that is the truth. How could it not be? Every inch of you—from the curve of your hipbones and the tanalizing way your bottom lip shines with a fresh layer of gloss to how your beautiful, doe eyes twinkle anytime he is near—is all his. You’re irresistible.

And when you lay beneath him, completely bare, ripe for the taking, whining out for his touch, what else could he possibly do than worship you? 

One arm keeps him steadily up, towering over you; the other cradles your soft cheek against his palm. His thumb strokes along your cheekbone. He’s gentle, smiling, even chuckling. “I’ve got you, baby,” he purrs in that deep, hoarse accent. “Shhh, darlin’. C’mon, lemme take care of ya.” 

“ Si…”

Your body stiffens as Simon gently slides himself into your pussy, until he’s buried balls deep; he lets out a breathless “fuck” as you tighten around his cock, followed by a low groan. “Perfect for me, aren’t ya?” He pauses, leaning to kiss you for a moment.

“That’s my good girl,” he mumbles against your lips, letting his tongue entangle with yours. “So fucking good for me.” 

His hips slap against yours at a slow, gentle pace—matching his thrusts. “C’mon, baby, fuck.” You whine in response, arching your back, your hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders while your pretty, teary eyes hold his gaze. 

“ Simon…! ” 

Simon chuckles, takes one of your hands in his, and flattens it against your lower stomach. “Feel that, love?” You gasp, nodding. There is an unmistakable bulge in your belly; you can feel it. “Aye, that’s me.” Your cunt takes him so unbelievably well; he cannot stop pistoning his cock in and out of you. 

God, he thinks, you were made for him.

You were fucking made for me. 

The only thing that could possibly be better than this is—

“Lemme make you a mum,” Simon suddenly says, groaning. “God, baby, need to make you one.” His fingers find your nipple, pinching it before rubbing it back and forth, causing you to squeal. “—make these pretty tits all swollen. You’d be so bloody gorgeous, love.” 

Simon wants a family, so fucking badly. He is beyond desperate for one  — ever since he looked into your eyes for the first time, and saw his future staring back. At the time, the feeling was confusing and disorienting….

…now, it all made sense.

“Yeah?” Mid-thrust, he kisses you again, swallowing your gasps and tiny whimpers as he splits you open on his cock. “You gonna let me make you a mum?” Another thrust. “C’mon, baby, use your words, my girl.” 

You nod, unable to muster up a response to your husband; instead, your mouth falls open—pretty, pink lips dropping into a perfect “o." “P-Please, Si…” your soft, little voice whines out, stirring up more heat in Simon. 

(He loves your voice. So bloody fucking much. You could ask him to raze the Earth to a burnt crisp, and he’d do it for you.) 

“Please what, baby?” 

The sensation of his massive cock overwhelms you. You fall slack as an orgasm rips through your body, robbing away all of your inhibitions; all you can do is let out another high-pitched moan, praying your body gives him the answer that your voice cannot. 

“Fuck — gonna breed you, baby. Gonna have my kid in you by the weekend.”

It’s a promise. His thrusts continue, in the exact same measure as before, not wanting to fuck you, but to make love to you. “You’re so bloody beautiful.” He’s gonna cum. Cum deep inside you; give you the family you deserve.

“Look at ya — bloody work of art.” 

Flushed cheeks; breasts sweaty and heaving with countless love marks scattered around the skin; your fingers card softly through his hair, pulling him closer to you. He’s a lucky bastard, indeed. 

“I love you."

Simon repeats those three words— “I love you. I love you. I love you.” —against your mouth, feeling his entire body tauten before he spills his cum inside you.

I love you. You saved me. You’re everything to me. 

You smile up at him, flushed all prettily, and he flashes a smile back, taking a moment to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. God, he fucking loves you.

“I love you,” he says again…and again…and again.

notes: my attempt at writing smut for the first time in months. if it sucks, it's cause im in my late luteal phase.

[regressionschool]

going full toddler: part 1

Marie had no idea what was coming.

She knew Steve had planned a weekend getaway, but the details were still a complete mystery. He had refused to tell her anything beyond the fact that she needed to be ready early in the morning. That, and the way he had smirked as he told her, "Don't pack anything. I've got it all covered," sent shivers down her spine—half excitement, half nervous anticipation.

She had suspicions, of course. Their dynamic had always included elements of CGL and ABDL, but usually, it was within the comfort of their home. This was something different. Bigger.

When Marie woke up that morning, groggy from sleep and stretching lazily in bed, she noticed something immediately—Steve was standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, a warm but firm look in his eyes.

"Good morning, princess," he said smoothly. "Your husband isn’t here today. Just Daddy."

Marie’s stomach flipped, a deep blush rushing to her cheeks. She tucked herself under the blankets instinctively.

Steve only chuckled. "Oh, sweetie, no hiding. We have a long drive ahead of us, and I need to get my little girl ready. Sit up for me."

Marie hesitated, but that teasing lilt in his voice made it impossible to resist. Slowly, she peeked out from under the covers, her heartbeat quickening.

"That's my good girl," he praised, pulling the blanket away completely. "Now, let's get you dressed. No arguments, no fussing. Daddy has everything picked out."

And he did.

Marie watched as he pulled out a soft pink t-shirt with ruffled sleeves—one that barely reached past her belly button—along with a pair of shortalls that fastened at the shoulders. But what really made her squirm was the thick, crinkly diaper he held up, unfolding it with an unmistakable whoosh.

Her face burned. "D-Daddy…"

He only raised an eyebrow. "What’s the rule, little one?"

She swallowed, knowing exactly what he meant. She hadn’t been told the full list of rules yet, but she had been told one thing: this weekend, she was in full toddler mode. Steve—Daddy—was in charge, completely. The only way she could stop anything was with a single word: red.

And she wasn’t going to use it. Not when the butterflies in her stomach were from excitement as much as embarrassment.

Once she was powdered, padded, and dressed, Steve guided her to the vanity and gently pushed her down onto the stool. "There we go. Now, let’s get those pretty hair ties in," he murmured, combing through her hair with practiced ease.

Marie watched in the mirror, her breath catching as he gathered her hair into two high pigtails. With each careful movement of his hands, she felt smaller, sinking deeper into her little space. The final touch came with two pink bows, tied neatly at the base of each pigtail.

The sight of herself—diaper bulging beneath her shortalls, soft pink top, and those childish pigtails—made her feel impossibly small. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, the thick padding reminding her just how little she really was this weekend.

"Perfect," Daddy said, brushing a thumb over her cheek. "Now, let's get you buckled in."

Minutes later, she found herself in the backseat of the car, a sippy cup placed in her lap, her feet swinging slightly over the edge of the seat.

"Comfy, princess?" Steve asked as he adjusted the rearview mirror to catch her face.

Marie squirmed, the thick padding under her making it impossible to ignore her situation. She held onto the sippy cup with both hands, lips pursed. She felt so little already.

"Y-yeah…" she finally mumbled.

Steve clicked his tongue. "Excuse me?"

Marie sucked in a breath, cheeks heating again. "Yes, Daddy…" Marie’s face burned, but she couldn’t stop the excited, happy squirm that ran through her. The trip had just begun, and she had no idea what surprises lay ahead. But she did know one thing for sure—she wasn’t in charge. Not even a little bit. And she loved it.

"That’s my good girl," he praised before pulling out of the driveway.

The gentle hum of the car and the rhythmic passing of trees outside the window soon lulled Marie into a drowsy haze. The soft crinkle beneath her, the lingering warmth of Daddy’s praise, and the comforting weight of the sippy cup in her hands all worked together to pull her into a light sleep.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out when a sudden beep-beep-beep cut through her dreams.

Marie’s eyes fluttered open, disoriented and groggy. The car was still moving, the scenery outside unfamiliar, and for a moment, she forgot where she was.

“Wha—?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes clumsily. Her pigtails tickled her cheeks as she turned her head. “What was that?”

Steve, still focused on the road, glanced at his phone, silencing the alarm with one hand. “Just Daddy’s reminder,” he said casually.

Marie blinked, trying to shake off the sleepiness. Everything still felt fuzzy, the world not quite making sense yet. “Reminder for what?”

Daddy smirked at her through the rearview mirror. “Well, first off—good morning again, sleepyhead.”

She pouted, cheeks warming. “M’not sleepy.”

“Mhmm. That’s why you were snoring a minute ago?”

“I don’t snore!” she whined, kicking her feet against the seat.

Steve picked up the full water bottle from the cupholder beside him and reached back, wiggling it slightly so she could see. "Time to swap out your water, little one. Let’s see that sippy."

Marie blinked, her grip tightening around her current bottle. Her cheeks pinked as she glanced down at it—only half-finished.

Steve raised an eyebrow, his voice playful but firm. "Uh-oh. Someone wasn’t drinking like a good girl."

A deep flush bloomed across Marie’s face. She quickly lifted the sippy to her lips and started sucking, desperate to make up for lost time. The moment the cool water touched her tongue, she realized just how thirsty she actually was.

Steve chuckled. "That’s it, sweetie. Such a good girl for Daddy, drinking all on your own."

The praise sent a wave of warmth through Marie that had nothing to do with the sun outside. She felt impossibly small, gripping the sippy cup with both hands and drinking as eagerly as she could, wanting more of that sweet approval.

By the time she finally lowered the cup, a tiny droplet of water escaped down her chin. She wiped it away quickly, trying to act casual.

Steve reached back again, palm open. "Let me see, princess."

Marie hesitated but handed over the now empty bottle. Without missing a beat, Steve unscrewed the lid and replaced it with the fresh one, tucking the used one into the bag he had stashed on the passenger seat.

"There we go," he said smoothly, placing the full sippy back into her hands. "Fresh water for my little one." Marie looked down at it shyly, feeling something melt inside her at the simple act. Then, as she shifted slightly, she felt something else—the thick padding between her legs pressing snugly against her, crinkling softly with even the smallest movement. The reminder made her squirm some more.

Marie settled back into her seat, her new sippy cup resting against her tummy. She peeked at Steve through the rearview mirror, her lips pursing slightly before she asked, “Daddy… can I have my phone?”

Steve didn’t answer right away. He let the question hang as he merged onto a highway, one hand steady on the wheel while the other tapped the turn signal. Then, he glanced at her reflection, his expression calm but knowing.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said with a smirk, shaking his head slightly. “Toddlers don’t have phones, remember?”

Marie blinked, sitting up straighter. “Wait… you didn’t bring it?”

“Nope,” he said simply. “Left it right on the nightstand where it belongs.”

Her stomach flipped. “But—”

“No buts, little one,” Steve interrupted smoothly. “You don’t need it this weekend. No checking messages, no scrolling, no big-girl distractions. Just you, Daddy, and lots of fun.”

Marie’s mouth opened, then shut again. The realization settled deep in her chest—she really didn’t have her phone. No notifications. No way to check the time. No way to zone out with a quick scroll.

For a moment, it made her feel weirdly exposed. Vulnerable. She wasn’t used to not having it, even when she was in little space. There was always an option to pull herself back into her normal, adult world if she wanted to.

But now…

Now, she really was just Daddy’s little girl.

She fidgeted, her fingers tracing the smooth surface of her sippy cup, eyes downcast. “What if I get bored?” she mumbled.

Steve chuckled. “Sweetheart, you’re a toddler. Toddlers don’t get bored, they just find things to be curious about.”

Marie pouted, but when she looked up, she saw his raised eyebrow in the mirror, and her pout softened.

“Tell you what,” he said, his tone light but still dripping with authority, “why don’t you do what little girls do? Look out the window, watch the trees go by, play with your stuffie.” He nodded toward the soft plush bunny sitting beside her in the seat—another thing she hadn’t noticed he’d packed for her.

Marie huffed, crossing her arms dramatically—but deep down, her tummy flipped at how real this was starting to feel. No phone. No control. Just Daddy making all the decisions.

With a little sigh, she turned her head to the window, pressing her forehead lightly against the cool glass. The world outside blurred past—rolling hills, clusters of trees, the occasional glimpse of farmland. Everything felt so much bigger like this, like she was really just a little girl being taken on a big adventure with no say in where they were going.

Her thumb hovered near her mouth for a second, an old habit from when she was feeling extra small, but she quickly grabbed her bunny instead, hugging it close.

“There’s my good girl,” Steve praised, his voice full of warmth. “See? I bet you’ll notice lots of things outside that you never pay attention to when you’ve got your nose in that phone.”

Marie squirmed at the praise, cheeks warming.

Another hour passes, the steady hum of the car and the rhythmic scenery lulling Marie into a soft daze. She’s already on her third sippy cup of the drive, and it’s finally catching up to her. She squirms in her seat, the thick padding beneath her crinkling softly with every movement.

Steve, watching through the rearview mirror, can see the telltale signs—her knees press together, then apart, then together again. She grips her bunny tight, her fingers kneading at the soft fabric as she wiggles, shifting positions in a futile attempt to distract herself.

And then, she goes still.

For a moment, she clutches her stuffed bunny a little tighter, her breath catching. Then, just as quickly, she exhales, her entire body relaxing into the seat, the tension melting away. The only sound is the faintest sigh, almost imperceptible, followed by the softest, telltale crinkle beneath her.

Steve knows exactly what’s happening.

But he doesn’t say a word.

Instead, he keeps his eyes on the road, hiding his smirk as they continue on. A few miles later, he spots a small rural rest stop—nothing fancy, just a shaded picnic area and a few vending machines beside a winding trail. It’s the perfect place to stretch their legs.

“We’re stopping for a bit, princess,” he announces, pulling off the highway.

Marie blinks, startled from her dazed state. “Oh… okay.”

As the car rolls to a stop, she shifts again, and that’s when she really feels it. The once-dry bulk between her legs is now warm and squishy, pressing against her with every movement. She swallows hard, her cheeks heating up as the reality of it settles in.

But at the same time… she’s oddly glad for the break. A chance to get up and walk around, even if the thick, damp padding is impossible to ignore now.

Steve steps out and comes around to open her door. “Come on, little one. Let’s get those legs moving.”

Marie hesitates, then takes his offered hand, letting him help her out of the car. As she stands, the full weight of the soaked diaper makes her knees wobble slightly, the squishy sensation both foreign and familiar.

She chews her lip, looking up at Steve, but he only gives her a knowing smile. “Feels different now, doesn’t it?” he teases, giving her a playful pat on the bottom.

Her face flames, and she buries it against his chest with a small whimper.

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothes, stroking her back. “You’re doing so well for Daddy.”

Marie exhales shakily, letting him guide her away from the car. The walk is a welcome distraction, the gentle movement making her feel a little less self-conscious. They wander toward a quiet corner of the rest stop, Marie clutching Steve’s hand, occasionally stealing glances at him.

She doesn’t have to ask what’s coming next. She knows.

And sure enough, as they reach the car again, Steve gives her that look—the one that makes her tummy flutter.

“Arms up, princess,” he instructs gently.

Marie pouts but obeys, letting him lift her into the backseat. As soon as she’s settled, Steve reaches between her legs, pressing lightly against the front of her shortalls. The moment he does, her cheeks burn, and she squirms, but there’s no hiding it now.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, his voice warm and proud. “Already nice and wet for Daddy.”

Marie whines softly, hiding her face behind her bunny.

Steve chuckles, ruffling her hair before pulling out another full sippy cup from the bag. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

Marie peeks over the bunny, pouting. “But Daddy…”

Steve tilts his head. “But what, little one?”

Her lips press into a thin line, but after a moment, she sighs and reaches for the cup. She knows there’s no getting out of it.

“That’s what I thought,” Steve teases, giving her a playful boop on the nose before buckling her in.

As he pulls onto the highway, he catches her in the mirror again.  She has no idea how much further they have to go… or how much fuller that diaper is going to be by the time they get there.

[nehi-soda]

Push Your Luck -

Jackson!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: You loved lying with Joel and listening to his music, but tonight, your need for him was impossible to ignore. So you decided to push—just a little. Maybe tonight, you would be lucky.

Word count: 2.6K

Warnings: established relationship but reader’s first sexual encounter with Joel, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected P in V sex, pulling out method as a form of contraception (be safe, don't be like them), descriptions of arousal and masturbation, fluff, smut, general filth, dirty talk, grumpy!joel, a dash of soft!joel, jackson!joel, cum, saliva, pet names (honey, baby, darlin'). No use of Y/N. Mood board is for aesthetics only; the reader's features aren't specified.

A/N: This was inspired by these images by @elliespuns, which have been playing on my mind and making me feral. Enjoy!

Joel's room was warm, the gentle crackle of his old records filling the quiet space with the soft hum of Johnny Cash. You were both sprawled on his bed like usual, your right leg resting over his rough jeans, a comfortable mess of limbs. The quiet between you wasn’t awkward—just the kind of stillness that comes after the world outside has been shut out for the night.

Joel had one arm tucked under his head, his other hand resting on the curve of your hip. His thumb absentmindedly traced lazy circles on your skin. But what he didn’t know—what he was completely unaware of—was that those small, soft touches were driving you insane. Each pass of his thumb sent ripples of heat straight to your core, making it impossible to think about anything other than how badly you wanted him.

Every time his skin grazed yours, your body responded, a subtle shift of your hips, a quiet shudder in your breath. The warmth of him pressed against you, the solid weight of his body beside yours—it only made the ache between your legs grow sharper.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to move, to press yourself against him, to grind your hips just enough to get some relief. You wondered if he could feel the heat rolling off your body, the throbbing need emanating from between your thighs.

His gaze was distant, fixed somewhere on the ceiling, lost in thoughts you couldn’t quite reach. There was always that slight hesitation in him, a part of him that held back, even when you were this close.

You shifted slightly, turning toward him, your fingers playing with the buttons of his flannel shirt. Joel’s breath hitched, and you noticed how his muscles tightened under your touch.

Without saying anything, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of his jaw. His stubble brushed your lips, rough and familiar. He closed his eyes as if surrendering to the moment, even if just for a second.

“Joel,” you whispered against his skin, the sound of his name more of a comfort than a question. Your lips moved lower, trailing a path down his neck, slow and deliberate, feeling his pulse beneath your mouth. He exhaled, a sound caught between a sigh and a groan, his hands resting on your hips as if he was trying to hold himself back, trying to keep some semblance of control.

His shirt was already half undone, so you pushed it open the rest of the way, revealing his thickly tufted chest. He was broad, built from years of hard work and survival, but there was a softness there, too, a gentle curve to his belly that you adored. His skin was smooth but scattered with old scars and faint marks, each one telling a different story of a life lived in a world that hadn’t been kind.

Your lips found the base of his throat again, lingering there for a moment before you started your descent. You trailed tender kisses down his chest like drops of rain rolling down weathered stone. 

“What are you doin’?” He asked, almost sounding annoyed.

You didn’t answer, instead you dragged your tongue across his pec, feeling the way his breath caught as you moved lower, tasting the salt on his skin. His chest rose and fell beneath your lips. He tensed as you kissed down to his belly. You nipped at the flesh there, teasing him, hearing the low growl that rumbled up from his throat, a warning or maybe an invitation.

Your hands gripped his sides as you made your way down, slow and purposeful, your lips grazing the faint trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. The heat radiating from his body was intense, pulling you in. His scent was raw and earthy, a mix of leather and something so uniquely Joel —it was all so intoxicating.

You’d never gotten past this point without him tugging you back, always stopping you before things could go any further. He was the one who kept that line drawn—held it tight. 

When you reached the top of his jeans, you slid off the edge of the bed to settle between his legs, your bare knees sinking onto the rug beneath you. Your lips pressed to the spot just above where the denim began, breathing him in more.

His cock already strained against the fabric of his jeans, the outline thick and urgent, demanding attention. 

It would be rude not to oblige.

You unbuckled his belt slowly and undid his jeans, your fingers brushing against him as you pulled back the fabric. He let out a deep breath as you ran your hand over him, feeling the heat, the need that he was trying so hard to hold back. “Relax,” you murmured, freeing his cock out of the waistband of his boxers. “Let me take care of you.”

Your hands gripped his thighs as you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the base of his cock. He groaned, his hand coming to tangle in your hair, not pulling, just holding, as if he wasn’t sure if he should let you continue. “Baby, you don’t have to…” Joel’s voice was rough, strained with the effort of keeping himself in check, but you could hear the desperation in it, the way his words trailed off as you licked a slow, teasing line up the length of him, tasting him. You looked up, meeting his gaze as you took him into your mouth. His hazel eyes darkened as you started to move, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, teasing the sensitive underside before taking him deeper. Stop being so nice, you wanted to say to him.

“Fuck,” Joel hissed, his head falling back as you set a steady rhythm, your hot mouth working him over with a practised ease that had him groaning, his hips jerking up involuntarily. You loved the way he responded to you, the way his body betrayed the control he tried so hard to maintain, the way he was falling apart under your touch.

You took your time. You wanted him to feel good. The soft clink of his belt was a monotonous beat to your movements. Joel’s fingers clung onto your hair, sending pleasant tingles to your scalp, his grip tightening as you increased the pace, taking him deeper, feeling him grow harder in your mouth. His moans filled the room, his voice a low, desperate sound that made you so wet. You could feel him getting close, his body trembling as he fought to hold back. “Shit,” he gasped, trying to pull back, but you didn’t let him. You wanted to give this to him, to let him lose himself in the pleasure, to show him that with you, he didn’t have to be in control all the time.

He was big, bigger than you were used to. Your eyes stung, tears blurring your vision as you fought to take him deeper, every inch of him filling your mouth so well. It was intense, and the mess only made it better— you could feel the sloppy trail of your saliva running down his shaft, gathering around your fingers as they gripped what your mouth couldn’t take, desperate to keep up with the size and the pace.

A mixture of your spit and his precum pooled at his base, slick and messy, dripping down onto his jeans. You think he liked seeing you like this, eyes watering, lips stretched around him, struggling to take all of him in. The way his cock throbbed told you as much, each twitch between your lips as you hollowed your cheeks, his size pressing against the back of your throat.

“Yeah, filthy little mouth... takin’ it all like that,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

And there it was.You knew he couldn’t be a gentleman with you all the time.

Your jaw ached, your throat tightened, and you could feel your body rebelling, but the thrill of it kept you going, pushing you to take more, to make him feel every desperate, hungry inch of your mouth. You took him as far as your body would allow until you were gagging and forced to draw back, spluttering for air.

His cock glistened, throbbing in your hand as you stroked him slowly, dragging out every second of his pleasure.

“Christ... you are a filthy thing, aren’t ya,” he rasped, his accent thick as the words rolled off his tongue. 

The way he looked at you like you were the most depraved, beautiful sight he’d ever seen sent a wave of heat straight to your aching pussy. Fuck he was so handsome. You could feel yourself dripping, your own arousal pooling between your legs, soaking through the fabric of your panties, desperate for any sort of relief.

You smiled up at him, lips still wet and swollen from where you’d had him, your eyes gleaming. 

The way you looked—sweet, sinful, shameless— made something flash in his eyes and his cock twitch in your hand.

“Don’t go lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, voice low and rough, the warning in his tone almost lost in the sheer need coursing through him. But you didn’t back down, didn’t look away, just smiled wider, eyes locked on his, waiting to see how far he’d let you push him before he broke.

“What, you like suckin’ cock or somethin'?” 

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, licking your lips as you held his gaze, your hand still lazily stroking his length.

“Only yours,” you whispered, your voice husky as your thumb swirled around the tip of his cock again, collecting more of that wetness. You leaned in, letting your breath ghost over him, close enough that he could feel the heat of your mouth, but just out of reach, playing with him, making him wait for it.

The low groan that rumbled from his chest told you everything. His grip in your hair tightened, that roughness in him rising up again.

“Only mine,” he laughed, half under his breath, letting his head fall back against the bed. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, hips jerking forward, pushing his cock closer to your waiting lips, telling you he didn’t want you to stop. Not now. Not ever.

Your lips parted, and you took him in again, slow and deep, letting him feel just how much you wanted him. Your hands gripped his thighs, fingers digging into the hard muscle, anchoring yourself as you moved faster.

His hips moved with you now, fucking your mouth with deep thrusts, each one bringing him closer to that sweet release you both craved.

You could feel him losing it, his body taut, every muscle straining as his cock pulsed harder against your tongue. He was close—so fucking close.

You stood up and hiked up your dress, the fabric bunching at your hips as you climbed on top of him. Your knees sank into the mattress on either side of his broad body. He barely had time to catch his breath before your hands were on his chest, and you were grinding down against him, your soaked panties brushing against the hard length of him.

Joel’s eyes widened just a fraction, that flicker of surprise quickly replaced by raw need as he felt your heat. His hands instinctively came up to grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh, urging you on. You didn’t waste any time—your hand slipped between your legs, pulling your panties to the side, exposing yourself to him, wet and ready.

You lined him up, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, teasing, torturing him for a moment before you sank down onto him in one quick motion. The stretch was immediate and intense as he filled you completely, every thick inch of him sliding deep inside you. Your breath hitched, a low moan escaping your lips as your walls clenched around him, taking him in until there was nothing left to take.

“Goddamn, honey,” Joel groaned, voice strained as he felt you squeeze him. His head tipped back, jaw clenched. 

You didn’t give yourself a chance to adjust—you started moving, rolling your hips, grinding down on him, taking him deeper with each thrust. You braced your hands on his chest, fucking him harder, faster with everything you had. His cock pulsed inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every movement, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You moaned, head falling back as you lost yourself in the feeling of him inside you.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel rasped, a hand bunching your dress, his other gripping your ass now, pulling you down harder onto him, guiding you, urging you to take it harder. His hips bucked up to meet your movements, fucking into you from below.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” you whispered, voice low, teasing, grinding your hips against him slowly, making sure he felt every needy inch of you, how wet you were for him. “You love being deep inside my pussy, Joel… don’t pretend otherwise.”

He groaned, fingers digging into your hips, his breath coming out ragged, but he couldn’t muster a response.

“You like watching me take it all, don’t you?” you continued, leaning down so your lips hovered just above his, your breath hot against his skin. “Seeing how fucking desperate I am for your cock. You feel that?”

A deep growl rumbled in his chest. “Fuck… I feel it,” he strained, “Keep talkin' like that and I ain’t gonna last, darlin’.”

You smiled wickedly, rolling your hips in that slow, teasing rhythm, feeling every inch of him stretch you, fill you up in a way that made your whole body tremble. The heat between your thighs was intense, a clawing, pulsing ache that begged for more. You moaned, the sound low and breathless, your hands gripping his chest for balance as you rocked your hips again, the friction of your clit rubbing against the roughen hair at the base of his cock, sending shocks of pure bliss through your whole body.

“God, you feel so fucking good inside me, Joel,” you moaned. Every movement had you teetering on the edge, the way his cock brushed against that spot deep inside that made your legs shake. 

“Oh, fuck!” Your voice broke, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you trembling and breathless. Your hands clung to his chest and flannel for support as you rode out the aftershocks, your thighs quivering around him, your release coating his cock as you ground down on him, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure.

Joel groaned, clearly on the edge himself, his cock throbbing as you tightened around him, making it harder for him to hold on. His breath came in ragged bursts.

“Shit—gotta pull out,” he growled, pulling out his cock.

His grip tightened as he lifted you just enough, sliding out of you, his cock twitching desperately. The sudden emptiness left you still aching with need, but you watched as he grabbed himself, stroking fast, desperate, along his thick shaft.

He moaned, deep and guttural, as he came hard, hot ropes of cum spilling across his hairy stomach. His chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven breaths as the last of his release dripped from the head of his cock on to the mess he’d made of himself.

“See, wasn’t so bad, was it, Joel?” you teased, your voice full of satisfaction.

“Don’t push your luck,” he grumbled.

divider credit to @saradika-graphics

[lay-z]

Kinda kinky, but made it domestic and fluffy. (I guess, idk...) Also, very long for some reason, sorry. MINORS, DNI! 18+ !!! Pairing: F!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley Warnings/Info: Established relationship; domesticity; fluff; consensual smut; masturbation kink; praise kink; some dirty talk; explicit language; cussing

It's Friday evening, barely past 8 pm, inside your apartment in the private 141 apartment complex on base.

After a late dinner – homemade lasagna with fresh ingredients, because you always thrive to get something proper other than MRE's into Simon's and your own system – you and your boyfriend are sprawled out on your large deep brown leather couch.

Cuddling, resting, and relaxing after a tough week of training and "important" briefings on duty.

The atmosphere is filled with contentment and coziness, while the delicious smell of lasagna and the fresh shower steam wafting into the open living space from the nearby bathroom, still linger in your shared apartment. The lights are off, except for the vanilla-scented candle you’ve lit on the white sideboard and the flickering lights of the TV screen illuminating the spacious room.

With the both of you now suffering from a food coma, Simon is laying on his broad back, taking up nearly all of the couches’ space. One muscular arm tucked behind his head on the armrest casually, the other hand playing with a few strands of your hair on the back of your head, his eyes half-lidded and glued to the large flat TV mounted on the opposite wall, currently playing the first episode of Band of Brothers, after you two had finally settled on something to watch – something you'd both enjoy.

Meanwhile, you're laying between his spread thighs, draped over him with your cheek resting on his lower stomach, your right hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over his lax abs with your flat palm and tracing the many faded scars while his tight black shirt is rucked up to his chest; his belly now slightly round and full, sporting a food baby, and thus not as hard and ripped as it usually is.

You can hear his stomach work as your ear presses against his pale skin, his gut already processing the food and sounding like a bunch of whale calls while his strong heartbeat fades into the background noise like a steady drum. It's an odd concoction of sounds, and you swiftly find yourself paying more attention to your boyfriend's bodily functions than your favorite war show playing on TV.

"What's so funny, eh? We're laughin’ at WWII now?" Simon asks eventually after your second quiet snicker to yourself, his deep voice sounding gruff and heavy with beginning fatigue, though it still carries that familiar dry, deadpan humor of his.

"Nope. Nothing," you reply with another breathy chuckle, patting and caressing his lower abdomen reassuringly. Perhaps a little bit too close to his crotch this time.

The sudden movement makes his muscles flex below your palm, and a low groan escapes Simon's slightly parted lips and both actions immediately trigger something within you, like a house cat being taunted by its owner moving their hand below a blanket.

"Don't... don't do that, luv," he chides you gently, cupping his free hand over yours to keep it still on his stomach, "Gimme another good thirty minutes, and I'll rock yer world." Simon tells you, stifling a yawn.

While he keeps your ministrations at bay with his mammoth hand, you prop yourself up on your other elbow with a small pout before you wordlessly begin peppering wet and hot kisses along his belly, down to his naval and lower abdomen, inhaling his masculine scent greedily while your nose nearly digs into his milky, scarred skin.

"Bloody hell, lass – don't, I –" Simon protests half-heartedly, sucking in a sharp breath, before another low groan slips past his lips as he shifts his body beneath you.

"Watch the damn TV and let me do my thing.” You mutter against his skin, though there is no bite behind your words, only teasing and affection – and burning determination. You two didn’t have any time nor strength for sex all week and you suddenly feel like making up for it now.

A low grumble vibrates in his chest in return and you know he wants to object again, but then he doesn't, because Simon is low-key just as horny as you are – he was just trying to be mindful, thinking you’re too tired to engage in anything sexual with him tonight.

"Always so goddamn bossy when we're alone," he mutters instead, clicking his tongue in mock exasperation, though a small smirk tugs at the corner of his scarred mouth.

“C’mere then, lovey,” he murmurs in his deep, gravelly voice, swiftly pulling his black T-shirt over his head and letting it fall down on the fluffy carpet next to the couch haphazardly, before he audibly pats his now bared chest in silent command with the hand that was previously tucked behind his head.

He needs to feel your lips on his first; ease in to this slowly before he might come too quickly; it’s been a week after all and Simon is only now realizing how tight his balls are.

However, you shake your head with a cheeky smirk, nuzzling the tip of your nose into the coarse dark hair of his thin happy trail, feeling his muscles flex at the sweet touch, before lifting your head to gaze up at him through your lashes.

“I wanna suck you off, baby. Can I?” You ask in a sultry purr, almost innocently, batting your eyelashes at him as you tug on the waistband of his grey sweats, pulling at it playfully before letting it snap back against his skin.

A rough groan escapes Simon as he watches you play with the thick hem of his pants and he already knows, despite his stamina, it will be a quick first round tonight; he’s way too sensitive and you know exactly what to do to drive him wild with lust. That familiar heat of arousal is already pooling into his gut and making his blood rush south.

“If I say no, what’re ye gonna do, hm?” He counters gruffly, biting back a sly smirk; his dark eyes fixated on yours, burning and molten and filled with desire and curiosity – because he rarely denies you anything, if ever.

“Maybe I’ll just do it myself,” he adds after a beat of silence, “Make myself feel good.”

Simon can practically watch how you process, assess, analyze his words in the span of mere seconds, but then your pupils dilate comically large, like a cartoon characters, and a foreign look appears on your face, one he’s never seen before. His heartbeat accelerates and he grunts lowly as you push yourself off his stomach to sit back on your haunches between his spread legs while the soft leather of the couch creaks and shifts as you move.

“Okay,” you retort in a breathy, deadpan voice, your eyes never leaving his, “I’ll watch.”

Simon instinctively shifts on the couch as well, propping his large upper body up in a reclined sitting position when he hears that you mean business. His dark eyebrows raise slightly at your unexpected reaction – the fact that his joke-proposition seems to excite you so immensely. His cock twitches and throbs inside his boxer briefs in return.

His eyes roam over your curves briefly, noticing how your braless breasts rise and fall with heavier yet slow breaths, nipples already peaking behind the fabric of your tight black crop top. You’re clearly aroused and Simon is sure he can smell you already, sweet, slick and warm and, most importantly, all his.

A pleased growl rumbles through his buff chest, until he remembers what exactly made you react this extremely.

"Yer into that?" He asks incredulously, brows drawing together in disbelief and curiosity, though if he's honest with himself, Simon is not surprised in the slightest.

You always encourage him to be more vocal in bed, make sounds, let loose. The dirtier, the better. Plus points if he sounds like a goddamn caveman claiming you; grunting and groaning in your ear while his fat cock is buried inside your tight cunt up to the hilt. You always love that.

"Yes," you answer curtly, squirming in your seat already. "I used to watch blokes jerk off and fuck their pocket pussies all the time on the Hub. Looked up the biggest, buffest lad and imagined you being the one doing it." You confess bluntly, a wicked smirk creeping on your lips as his big doe eyes grow even wider.

"Pff, seriously?"

Simon tries not to show it too obviously, but that is, hands down, the hottest and most flattering admission you've ever shared with him. Gods, he bloody loves your bluntness.

"Yes, sir." You nod enthusiastically while he snorts and rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

You only ever call him Sir off duty when there's a deeper meaning behind it – a plan.

"So... you – you wanna see that, innit? Wanna watch me have a wank in front of you and look all pathetic while I could also just...fuck you properly instead?" Simon enquires with a hint of sarcasm, scratching the stubble at his chin as he studies your beautiful face appraisingly, still obviously hesitant about the whole idea.

"Uh-huh," You nod again, smiling at him with a certain twinkle in your eyes, like a child finally receiving a toy it always wanted but never dared to ask for. “Please.” You add for good measure, tilting your head to the side in a playful manner.

Simon quirks an eyebrow at you, his eyes flickering over your pretty features to make sure you're really not messing with him. He's never done that before; it has never occurred to him that anyone would want to see him do that.

Masturbating has always felt pathetic and awkward to him; it's a means to an end to him and especially those Combat Jack’s are the worst. Feel sad and horny, jerk off, feel sad and empty afterwards. Done deal.

But how can he ever deny you that particular pleasure when you've always been so good for him? So incredibly patient, caring, and loving despite all his flaws and issues; way before you've become a couple, even.

"Fine. I'll do it," he finally huffs gruffly, his own heart skipping a hard beat, his brows creasing together in a slight frown while he can't hide the obvious tent already sporting in the front of his sweatpants at the sight of your beaming smile and sparkling eyes after getting exactly what you want – again.

"But ye're not allowed to touch me...or yerself. Understood?"

Oh.

Your nostrils flare as you exhale sharply, drumming your fingertips along his clothed thighs as you narrow your eyes at him, pondering briefly.

"Yeah... okay... sounds like torture, but... the fun kind." You agree reluctantly, giving a small shrug, though you quickly notice that his strict order only fuels your growing arousal and excitement. It’ll be like watching your own personal porn after all.

Simon moves his knees then, a silent warning to get your hands off like you agreed to, and you retrieve your hands from his thighs with a tiny snarl that makes him chuckle darkly while you rest your palms on your own thighs instead.

“Be my good girl then and take yer top off, lovey. Show me yer pretty tits, yeah?”

Yet again, a violent shiver runs down your spine as soon as Simon gives you another order in that deep, gravelly voice of his and you don’t hesitate to obey his request – peeling off your tight crop top to reveal your breasts to him at once and dropping the piece of clothing next to the couch, your skin flushed with arousal and carnal desire for him.

“Like this?”

Simon hums deeply in approval, his pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, like a wolf licking its chaps, while his whiskey-colored eyes darken and gleam an inky black as they drink in your gorgeous, bare upper body, now only illuminated by the soft candlelight and the flickering lights of the TV screen, still playing Band of Brothers. You look like an absolute goddess and his fingers itch to reach out and touch, flick his thumbs over your perky nipples just the way you like it, squeeze and grope your tits until you mewl with neediness.

But, alas, he doesn’t.

“Aye, just like that,” he grunts out, shifting and adjusting his position until he’s comfortable on the couch and has a good view on you. “Bloody perfect, you minx.” He adds thickly in a low murmur.

And then, without a further word, Simon finally hooks his right thumb into the waistband of his sweats and boxer briefs and tugs both fabrics down until the stretchy waistbands are snug taut below his balls, right at his taint, adding some pressure to the sensitive spot. He grunts when his large cock springs free from its confinement and rests on his lower stomach, a droplet of pearly pre-cum leaking onto his dark happy trail from his blushing tip, making your mouth water on sight and a breath hitch in your throat.

The musky scent of his arousal hits your nose, and it takes all of your trained willpower not to pounce on him. No, this is special. You can't ruin it with your impatience.

There's a slight grimace on his ruggedly handsome face when he simply grabs his shaft, then his right mammoth hand wraps around his girth completely. It almost looks painful to you, but Simon bites his cheek and fights the immediate shudder of pleasure running down his spine at his own rough touch, giving himself a few slow, tight strokes.

"You're a dry guy?" You ask curiously, scrunching your nose up in surprise. You always use some kind of lube when you give him a nice hand job.

"Huh? Yeah?" Simon's eyes flicker from his throbbing cock to your eyes, then swiftly back again, shrugging his broad shoulders before stilling briefly, then he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

Great, now he feels like he's doing it wrong; something he's been doing to himself for years. It’s not his fault that his calloused hands cannot compare to your soft ones anymore and that you’ve completely spoiled him with your gentle yet firm touch; you’ve utterly ruined him for himself at this point.

“Mhm,” you hum appraisingly, practically buzzing with pent-up arousal as you squirm in your seat between his spread legs again and feel the fabric of your thong rub between your slick folds and against your pulsating clit in delicious torture.

“Spit in your fist, baby,” you advise him then, your own mouth filling with saliva at the sheer thought, completely self-conditioned, “Enjoy it for me. Relax.”

Simon nearly groans at your words, but suppresses the wanton sound again, all to your disapproval.

“Fuck –“ He grunts through clenched teeth, nostrils flaring as he's already crumbling beneath your smoldering gaze and bratty pout.

The urge to just pinch your pretty nipples in retaliation and grab you by the nape of your neck like a disobedient kitten, only to make your plump lips spread and open up over his needy cock, is becoming more unbearable by the second.

Eventually, Simon lifts his right hand, because he does want to put on a show for you, and spits into his rough palm generously.

The sudden choked whimper that spills from your lips at the lewd gesture of his makes it all worth it, tough, and Simon lets out a guttural moan this time, when he cups his leaking tip with his slicked up fist and twists his wrist for more friction.

“This good enough for you, luv?” He manages to ask in between guttural grunts and deep, deliberate breaths.

Meanwhile, you don’t even know where or what to look at as your feral eyes try to drink in and process this whole scene in front of you – his flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, how his abs and the muscles in his chest and arms ripple and flex with each heavy breath and movements, the way he works on his long, girthy cock for you. It’s still such a rare sight for you – seeing him this open and vulnerable.

If Simon would let you, you’d record and safe all of it for later.

“Yes,” you breathe out in return, voice hoarse and thick with lust and need, utterly captivated and amazed by his performance. “God, yes, baby. You look so fucking sexy right now.”

Your praise sends a jolt of hot, searing pleasure straight to his cock while Simon keeps fucking into his rough fist and his breath stutters briefly as he tries to maintain his fervent rhythm, muttering curses under his breath.

When his head lolls back against the armrest while a husky groan tears itself from his throat and his hips buck up into his own hand instinctively, right in front of you, you have to take several deep breaths to keep yourself seated on your haunches and, simultaneously, from reaching out to him – even though it’d be so easy to just…join him, perhaps fondle his balls and increase the pleasure.

Letting out another whimpery moan at the thought, your own fingers are now digging into the fabric of your gym leggings on your thighs, fidgeting and twitching restlessly while you move and roll your hips desperately, trying to find some release as your soaked thong keeps rubbing your swollen clit between your folds.

Simon can already feel how pathetically close he is and he knows it’s only because you’re watching him wank off right now, enjoying it – and praising him for it in that tooth-achingly sweet voice of yours, too.

It usually takes him so much longer to cum on his own, no matter how blue his balls are, but this is different – a good kind of different, and the tension in his lower stomach continues to rise at a rapid pace while he can barely hold eye-contact with your mesmerizing eyes when you’re looking at him like that, all aroused and needy with lust.

“’m close,” Simon huffs out, sounding like an angry bull as he bends one leg and puts the other foot down on the ground for leverage, readying himself for the inevitable.

“Play with yer tits for me, beautiful,” he requests through his clenched jaw as he watches you squirm through heavy-lidded eyes, “Help daddy come.”

“Oh…Fuck…” you practically gasp out as soon as you hear him calling himself that, and your head tilts back slowly with a breathy moan when your hands roam over your bare stomach sensually, up until they rest over your heavy breasts. You begin toying with yourself for him, groping and squeezing the supple flesh, tugging on your stiff nipples and rolling the sensitive buds between the pads of your fingers, until you’re panting for him like a bitch in heat.

While you’re playing with your tits like he asked you to, like the good, obedient girlfriend you are, Simon’s free hand finds its way slithering up his taut stomach, up his heaving chest, until it wraps around his own throat firmly, blunt nails digging into his scarred skin, tightening just enough to feel his own strong pulse flutter and thrum beneath his fingers, while he keeps stroking and fucking his cock into his tight fist with shameless vigor.

You and Simon moan simultaneously then – you at the sight of him choking himself suddenly, without warning, and he, because of all combined sensations bullying him to his peak all at once.

Eventually, his loud breathing keeps hitching, the vein in his temple protruding visibly as he keeps his grip around his throat, and your lips part with a wanton moan as you watch him climax, squeezing your tits harshly, as Simon’s balls tighten, eyes rolling back and fluttering shut and he finally comes with a guttural groan, spilling his thick, white release into his fist until it leaks and drips out from between his rough knuckles, making a mess on his lower belly.

“Fuckin’ hell, luv –“ Simon curses with a low chuckle, and swallows hard, still catching his breath as he releases his throat and lifts his head up from the armrest to look at you, feeling somewhat sheepish all of a sudden.

“That what you wanted?” He asks sarcastically, his voice all wrecked and gruff as he gestures at the mess on his stomach with his clean hand while his body keeps shuddering with aftershocks.

You need a moment to find your voice again, your heart still hammering against your ribcage just from watching him get off while your core is still fluttering and pulsing with want and a desperate need for attention.

“Y-yeah,” you admit with a few tiny nods, still blushing with arousal after heaving a deep sigh, “That was…perfect. You were bloody perfect, honey.” You utter another praise and watch his cheeks tint with a blush.

“Tsk,” Simon scoffs, shaking his head slightly, completely blissed out of his mind, “You better shut it, lass, and help me clean up this mess.” He grunts dismissively, though he’s grinning proudly.

“Gimme ten minutes, lovey.” He remarks with a wolfish smirk, the innuendo clear as he doesn't bother to tuck his half-hard cock back into his sweats, after you’ve retrieved some soft tissues from the box on the coffee table.

Making him cum now merely opened the floodgates, like shaking a champagne bottle and pulling the cork recklessly; his hunger for you has only been ignited and, boy, he is starving again, though not for your delicious lasagna this time.

When you hold out the tissues to him with an amused look, Simon grabs your wrist suddenly and hauls you on top of him again, up to his chest this time, wrapping one strong leg around your body securely to keep you caged in before he cups your cheek with his cum-slicked hand and finally captures your lips in a deep, sloppy kiss.

He knows you don't mind the mess.

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒔

𝑶𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒔!𝑳𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝑭𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. Mutual feelings, fluff, smut, passionate sex, unprotected sex, unspecified age gap, tiny somnophilia if you squint, etc. beware.

divider by the talented @anitalenia 🎀

𝑳𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

“Mmm.. I love you..” you whisper softly, dropping him off at work. The men laughed and whistled as Logan returned the words giving you the warmest and softest smiles. You blush driving away waving him off preparing yourself to miss him all day at the farm.

Lumberjack.. that was his job for months now. It paid well just as much your farm did. You had perfect lives together, ever since you found him in your barn hiding. He surprised you not just because he was naked but because he wasn’t just an ordinary man. Your relationship bloomed.. you were in love and you swore that you loved him more each day. You didn’t expect to find a man of your dreams, but he found you first.

“Need some help?” Lo approaches you from behind coiling his arms around you as you prepared dinner. You smiled softly “Of course my love..but first you have to wash your hands for me.” He chuckled at your words pecking your lips “Yes Ma’am as you wish” biting your lower lip you squeezed his butt when he was leaving to the bathroom. After filling dinner, you sat outside– the animals were quiet, the forest too.. but the moon lighted the sky. Giving you a breathtaking view. “C’here my lady..” Lo pulls you to straddle his lap gazing at you in the most loving way, making your heart race.

“I’m scared to lose you one day..” you whispered kissing his bearded cheek loving the feeling of his massive arms around you. “Mmm.. I’m planning to stay here with my love.” He hummed in response resting his cheek on your breasts looking up at the moon above the trees. “Please don’t leave me..” a wave of emotions overwhelmed you, the urge to snuggle close to him. He snuggled you close, granting you the wish kissing your forehead. “I love you–” you whisper rubbing his back trailing your fingers under his flannel shirt to feel the warmth of his skin of his shoulders. “And I love you, so much princess” his words fluttered your heart. You stayed outside on his lap until you fell asleep in his arms, Logan cupped your cheek as he observed your face. Thumb softly caressing your warm flesh eyes filled with nothing but love. For a while.. he thought he could leave you but his heart didn’t let him just shortly after you found him at the barn. It was fateful wasn’t it? Carrying you inside the house placing you in the bed tucking you in– Logan let you rest. You needed it more than he did. After showering, dressing he walked out the house lighting a cigar. He had that constant feeling in his chest, that danger was coming. You weren’t safe.. he was all day gone working. You stayed here on the farm taking care of it, working too. What if he wasn’t fast enough to get to you? Looking at his hand, his claws grew out the adamantium shimmering under the moonlight.

Sunrise barely touched the window, and his mouth was on your shoulder. His large hand touching your belly slowly turning you on your back before climbing between your thighs. Your arms hung around his shoulders as you hummed feeling him on top of you. “Mornin princess..” he whispered in your ear, before you felt him sliding inside of you. You mewled at his thick cock filling you out. “Mmm!!” Parting your lips on his shoulder you clung to him letting out lines of whimpers and moans “slept well huh? been warming you in my arms all night” he cooed snapping his hips into you waking you up. You moaned loudly touching his hair running your fingers through it as your small body jolted beneath him. “Love you..” you gasped “love you too princess.. fuck” lo breathed sliding his naked arms under your shoulders speeding up his thrusts pounding into you. “Couldn’t wait..- pussy been wet all night makin’ my cock ache” he moaned kissing your cheek parting his lips as he quickly filled you fucking into you. The familiar heat in your belly got stronger and stronger your legs coiling around his hips as you bit his shoulder letting out lines of curses and whimpers “love you too baby..” he gripped the back of your head smashing his mouth against yours needing all of you. His kiss tasted of lust, love and want. Accepting his tongue, you both moaned in each other’s mouths moving together in sync as you chased your highs. Lo pulled away to groan hungrily burying his face between your bouncing breasts his claws shooting out digging into the mattress bellow the pillows the moment you started to orgasm. You trembled, screaming his name as tears rolled down your cheeks from the pleasure. His pace was so quick, so good, almost hard and rough but all out of love. Need. Pure ecstasy. “Ughh..” he breathed holding you tightly in his arms as you choked his cock deeply inside of you making him cum just as hard. The swollen tip spurting out hot streams of load in your heat. He slumped on top of you, moaning as your lips met again in passionate kiss shoving his cock deeply inside of you making you whimper out cupping his cheek. The other hand held fistful of his mane.

mornings like this.. were your favourite.

-

(any mistakes, typos, I apologise in advance!)

[gracie-eilish]

baby bump💕

an: ok humor me. one more baby fic and then i’m all done and it’s out of my system i promise.

also i found those two pics of billie on pinterest and she’s making the same face in both. my heart can’t take it.

i love domestic billie. in the words of billie herself, “i’m gonna have a kid. this year.” no im not. im 22. not yet. ok that’s all i’m done talking abt it bye enjoy the fic.

The golden hues of the sunset streamed through the open French doors, bathing the kitchen and living room in warm light. The soft breeze carried the scent of the garden into the house, mingling with the aroma of garlic and herbs sizzling in a pan on the stove. It was a peaceful evening, one of those moments that felt effortlessly perfect.

You sat on the couch in the living room, your legs tucked beneath you, one hand resting protectively on your baby bump. A small smile played on your lips as you watched Billie in the kitchen, moving with an easy rhythm as she worked on dinner. She wore one of her oversized hoodies, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, her hair tied back in a loose bun. She was humming softly—an old love song that made your heart swell every time you heard it.

Meanwhile, your little girl toddled around the space, her tiny footsteps padding across the floor. She clutched a wooden spoon in one hand and a small, unpeeled onion in the other, convinced she was helping Billie prepare dinner.

“Good job, bug,” Billie said, crouching down to take the onion from her. “You’re gonna be the best little chef someday.”

Your daughter giggled, her laughter filling the room as Billie scooped her up, planting a noisy kiss on her cheek. Then, without warning, she squirmed out of Billie’s grasp and toddled over to you, her spoon clutched triumphantly.

“Mommy!” she called, clambering up onto the couch beside you.

“Hi, sweet pea,” you said, pulling her close and peppering her cheeks with kisses, making her squeal with delight. “What are you cooking over there?”

She held up the spoon as if it were a prized treasure. “Dinner!”

“Dinner, huh?” you teased, brushing her soft hair out of her face. “You’re doing such a good job.”

Billie glanced over her shoulder, grinning. “She’s definitely the head chef tonight. I’m just her assistant.”

You laughed, your heart so full you thought it might burst.

Your daughter wriggled off the couch and ran back to Billie, who was stirring something on the stove. She tugged on Billie’s hoodie until Billie crouched down to her level. “Mama,” she said, pointing toward you. “Baby!”

Billie froze for a moment, her eyes wide. Then, a soft smile spread across her face as she glanced over at you.

“Yeah, bug,” Billie said gently. She turned her full attention to your daughter, her voice soft and patient. “There’s a baby in Mommy’s tummy.”

Your daughter’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Baby?” she repeated, looking back at you.

You nodded, resting your hand on your belly. “That’s right, sweetie. There’s a little baby growing in here. You’re going to be a big sister.”

For a moment, she just stared, her tiny brows furrowed as if she were trying to comprehend what that meant. Then, to your surprise, she toddled over to you and gently placed her hand on your belly, mimicking your gesture.

“Baby,” she said again, her voice filled with wonder.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as you reached out to stroke her hair. “That’s right, baby girl. You’re going to be the best big sister.”

Billie walked over, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, her expression full of awe and love. She crouched beside the two of you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as her other hand joined yours on your belly.

“She’s already so good at this,” Billie murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

“She is,” you agreed, leaning your head against her shoulder.

The three of you stayed like that for a moment, the breeze from the open doors carrying the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance. It was one of those moments that felt frozen in time, a snapshot of love and family that you knew you’d hold onto forever.

Eventually, Billie kissed the top of your head and stood up. “Alright, let’s finish up dinner, yeah?”

Your daughter clapped her hands, excited to continue her “helping,” and toddled back to the kitchen. You stayed on the couch, watching as Billie let your little girl stir the sauce with her small hands on top of Billie’s. They both giggled when a little bit splattered onto the counter.

Dinner was simple but perfect: pasta with fresh vegetables from the garden, crusty bread, and a salad Billie had tossed together. The three of you sat at the table, your daughter perched in her high chair, gleefully smearing tomato sauce across her face. Billie reached across the table to take your hand, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she smiled at you.

After dinner, the three of you moved back to the living room. Billie spread out a blanket on the floor, and your daughter plopped herself down in the middle of it with her favorite stuffed animal. You and Billie sat beside her, your head resting on Billie’s shoulder as she traced lazy patterns on your belly.

As the evening wore on, your daughter started to grow sleepy, her little body leaning against Billie’s side. Billie scooped her up, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she carried her upstairs to bed. You followed, standing in the doorway of her room as Billie tucked her in and whispered goodnight.

When the two of you finally returned to the living room, the house was quiet, save for the sound of the waves and the occasional rustle of the breeze through the open doors. Billie pulled you onto the couch, wrapping her arms around you and resting her hand on your belly again.

“I still can’t believe this is our life,” she murmured, her voice soft. “You, her, the baby… it’s everything I ever wanted.”

You turned to look at her, your heart so full it hurt. “It’s everything I ever wanted too.”

And as you sat there together, the warmth of her love surrounding you, you knew that no matter what the future held, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[oceanreveuse]

𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗲, 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗹𝗲𝘆.

◟fem!reader, ooc wrio? more common than u thinkies, so so so self indulgent, riding, semi-public sex, is this a breeding kink? /ref (wrap it b4 tappin it pls), daddy kink, belly bulgeeee !! praise + petnames (good girl, baby) ◟anastasia's footnote : this is one of my older works & it shows, apologies ＿|￣|○

“that’s it,” his voice is low, a heavy timbre that rumbles from his chest as his hot breath tickles the back of your neck, “that’s a good girl.”

there’s the embarrassing wet squelch of your bodies colliding as you give your first hesitant bounce on his lap. your legs straddle him, feeling his chest press against your back as he presses loving kisses to your shoulder blades. you’ve barely began your ministrations and yet your legs are crumbling beneath you, quivering as you raise your hips to slam them back down again.

“takin’ me so well tonight, huh?” WRIOTHESLEY chuckles, a large palm sliding from your waist upwards, following the curve of your side before he cups your breast in his hand, “so fuckin’ tight baby.”

secret meetings like this in his office were nothing new between the two of you. plenty of times had you found yourself visiting for a mere cup of tea shared in the company of your partner and yet ending up tucked underneath his mahogany desk, your pretty lipgloss coated lips wrapped around his length and a calloused hand buried in your hair.

numerous times had visitors questioned wriothesley’s questionably sized desk chair and wriothesley always uttered the same excuses with that coy grin of his; it was for comfortability, of course but you knew the truth - it meant that your body could fit snugly on his lap for a multitude of purposes.

“daddy—” there’s the faintest reflection of crystalline tears in the corner of your eyes when your hips slap down onto his, his tip pressing to your spongey spot like it has done thousands of times before. wriothesley knew your body well, after all, “s-so full—”

you’re babbling and it’s barely coherent, much to wriothesley’s amusement as his spare hand wanders over your belly, pressing hard onto the bulge that comes with every bounce of your smaller body. he clicks his tongue, his hand idly squeezing your breast before it returns to your waist and helps guide you. you’re losing your pace, faltering as you arch back against his broad chest, your head resting on his shoulder as you cry out.

“you’re doing such a good job, baby, you know that?” he groans close to your ear, feeling the way your walls tighten in response to his words. your hands blindly fumble to find his arms, his hands, any of him so that you can claw at his pale skin, leaving pretty red marks as you try to find purchase.

there’s a fluttering in your tummy that can only mean one thing, drawing out more harmonious moans from your swollen lips as wriothesley’s fingers trace over your sensitive clit, giving an exceptionally sharp thrust, “makin’ such a mess… gonna have to finish inside…”

it only takes a few powerful thrusts, wriothesley’s strong grip almost bruising your waist as he holds you down on his lap, his cock bottoming out as it twitches, filling your womb with hot, sticky seed as your walls clamp and milk him dry for what he’s worth. there’s a breathy chuckle from your partner, your overstimulated body shuddering as you finally relax back against him. your legs ache, spent once again from another simple “visit” to your boyfriend’s office.

© oceanreveuse 2024 | reblogs appreciated | do not repost, steal, translate, etc. on any social media platform & do not feed to ai.

[ the magazine is affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum ]

[v6quewrlds]

Fluffy Joe supporting you through morning sickness/nausea during pregnancy. I think this man would feel so bad and think it was his fault for putting a baby in you in the first place and would treat you like a princess to make up for it.

imagine joe supporting you through morning sickness.

The room was still, the only sound a faint hum from the streetlamp outside. You sat up in bed, your eyes searching for something in the darkness as a wave of nausea wrestled you from your sleep. Your hand found the empty space beside you, and you realized Joe had slipped out of bed. The digital clock on the bedside table read 3:14 AM, casting a cold, blue light across the room.

"Sweetheart, you okay?" Joe's voice had sleep, but his footsteps were swift as he approached the bed, the floorboards creaking gently beneath his weight. "Did I wake you up?"

You swallowed hard, the acid in your throat a cruel reminder of your condition. "No, it's just…the usual." You managed a weak smile, your hand resting on your slightly rounded belly.

Joe sat on the edge of the bed, his concern etched into the lines of his face. "I'm sorry," he murmured, taking in the sight of you, the faint sheen of sweat on your forehead. "You feel sick?"

"Yeah," you sighed, "Not 'throw up sick' yet, but definitely 'wake up sick'."

Joe's blue eyes searched the room as if he could will away the queasiness. He pulled you into his side, his hand cradling your back as your head came to rest on his broad shoulder. Your eyes closed in concentration, sock-covered feet tucked beneath you. "You're sure you don't want me to get you anything? Water? Crackers?"

You shook your head. "It's okay. Just give it a few minutes, it'll pass." You took deep breaths, your hand moving in small, calming circles over your belly. Joe's hand came down to rest over yours, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

"I hate that you have to go through this," he whispered. "It's all my fault."

Your laugh was light, a genuine sound that brought the whisper of a smile to his face. "Baby, it's not your fault."

"It kind of is, though," Joe said with a tired smile, staring at his feet. "I got you pregnant. It's my fault you're up at this ridiculous hour."

You turned your head, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Well, when you put it like that," you trailed off, teasing him gently. Your nausea began to subside as you laughed at his guilt-ridden expression. "There's nothing either of us can do about it now, so let's just try to get through it. Yeah?"

Joe nodded, his arms tightening around you. "Yeah," he said, his voice low. "I'm still sorry, though."

"I know." You leaned into his embrace, feeling his warmth seep into your tired muscles. "But you're doing a great job taking care of me." You paused, your stomach still unsettled. "And I'm happy. This is all worth it. Every minute of it."

[alwaysmicado]

in my arms

2.1k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | one-shot

Warnings: fluff, Joel’s POV (first person) Summary: As Joel watches you sleep beside him for the first time, he realizes just how deeply he’s come to crave something more than just fleeting moments together. A/N: This one-shot has been sitting in my drafts for ages, and I could really use a bit of heartwarming fluff right now—so I figured it’s the perfect time to share. I really hope it’ll bring you some comfort, too. Can be read alone or within the fwb!Joel AU. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts! I love hearing from you! ♡

It’s been a while since anyone’s slept in my bed with me.

Hell, it’s been a long time since I let anyone close enough to even get that far. But you—well, you have a way of making everything feel different, even when you don’t know it. Even when you don’t mean to.

And tonight, after weeks of the same routine, of having you in my arms just for the space of a couple of hours and then watching you slip away again, you are still here.

Fast asleep in my bed.

I shift in the darkness, the mattress dipping just slightly beneath me as I turn onto my side to face you fully. The only light in the room comes from the full moon shining outside, its glow filtering through the slats of the blinds, casting faint lines of silver and shadow across your bare skin. 

You’re lying on your belly, one arm tucked under the one pillow in my bed—yeah, yeah, I know—while the other rests loosely against the sheets. Your breathing is slow and steady, your chest rising and falling in a rhythm that is starting to soothe something deep inside me I didn’t even realize was tense.

I can’t sleep.

Not because I’m not tired—God knows I am—but because the idea of closing my eyes and missing even a second of this, of you being here, feels like something I can’t bear.

It’s strange. I’m not used to feeling this way.

Most of the time, when we’ve been together, I’ll lie awake for a bit after you’ve left, letting the quiet of the house settle over me like a blanket, pretending I don’t mind the loneliness creeping back in. Pretending I don’t mind that you leave.

But tonight is different. Tonight, you stayed.

I didn’t expect it, honestly. After the way the night had gone, with you laughing and dancing and a few too many Tequila shots, I figured you’d brush me off like you always would when we were done—give me that soft smile, kiss me one last time, and then slip out into the night before I could say anything to stop you.

But when I asked if you were alright, if you wanted me to call you a cab, you surprised me. You said no.

“I think I, uh, might have had just a liiiittle too much to drink,” you mumbled, half-laughing as you tried to sit up, only to sway slightly and grab onto my arm for balance. “Maybe I should just…stay here. If that’s okay.”

Of course, it was okay. It was more than okay.

But the way you said it, so casual, like it wasn’t a big deal, like it didn’t send a rush of something sharp and warm straight to my chest, made me realize how much I’d been hoping for this. Hoping for you to stay, to let me have this one night, where it wasn’t just about the—albeit fantastic—sex we had. Where it was about something more, even if we never put a name to it.

So, here we are.

You didn’t say much after we settled in. Just curled up beneath the sheets, close enough that I can now feel the warmth of your body beside me, but not so close that it feels like you’re giving me more than you’re ready to. And that’s fine. I’ll take whatever you are willing to give.

The truth is, I’ve been wanting this for a while now. Maybe even since the first time I took you home, if I’m being honest with myself. There’s just something about you that has gotten under my skin from that very first time our eyes met, and no matter how much I try to keep things simple, I can’t help the way I feel. The way you make me feel.

You’re smart, funny, insanely gorgeous, and stubborn as hell sometimes—but you have this vulnerability about you, too. Like you’re always holding back, keeping a part of yourself just out of reach, and for some reason, I want to be the one to reach it.

Tonight, though…tonight, I have you right here. No walls, no goodbye, no running off into the night. Just you, asleep beside me, looking so damn peaceful it makes my chest ache.

I shift a little closer, gently, just enough so that I can see your face better in the low light. I have the sudden urge to trace the contours of your face with my fingers, to put a soft kiss on your lips.

My hand twitches at my side, but I don’t move. Don’t want to risk waking you, even though part of me wants you to wake up, to look at me with those tired eyes and give me that sleepy smile that always makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m more than a temporary distraction to you.

I believe you when you say you like spending time with me. You make me feel it, too. When we’re together, you’re really here with me. But it’s just that, after every time, it ends. You always leave.

And I’m left wondering when, or if, you’ll come back to me.

I watch you for a long time. Longer than I should, probably. But I can’t help it. There’s something about the way you look when you’re asleep—so soft, so unguarded—that makes me feel like I’m seeing a part of you you don’t let anyone else see. Not even me.

I wonder what you’re dreaming about. If you’re thinking about anything at all, or if your mind is finally at peace, even for just a little while. I hope it’s the latter. You’ve had a stressful week you told me, and I hope you’re dreaming of something nice, something that makes you feel safe.

And I want to be that for you. I want to be the one who makes you feel safe. But I know better than to push my luck. You aren’t ready, and I’m not going to ask for more than you can or want to give.

Still, lying here beside you, feeling the warmth of your body so close to mine, I can’t help but imagine what it would be like if things were different. If this wasn’t just a one-time thing, but something we did every night. If you stayed, not because you were too drunk to leave, but because you wanted to.

Because you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

I can picture it so easily—waking up with you next to me, your sleepy voice mumbling something incoherent as you stretch and blink the sleep from your eyes.

I’d make you coffee, just the way you like it in the morning, and we’d sit at the kitchen table, talking about nothing and everything all at once. Maybe we’d bicker about something stupid, like which show to watch or who gets to choose the music while we cook dinner. And then, at the end of the day, we’d come back to this—this quiet, this closeness—and I’d fall asleep knowing you are right here in my arms.

But that’s not how things are.

I know that. I’m not delusional. I know that whatever this is between us, it isn’t something you’re ready to define. And maybe that’s fine. Maybe I can be okay with that, at least for now.

But damn, it’s hard not to want more.

Not because I want to hold you back or limit the way you explore the world and discover yourself—that’s the last thing I’d ever want for you. You’re young and bright, and the world’s wide open for you. It’s because of you—the way you make me feel when you’re with me. The way your smile lights up my world, the way you make everything feel like it matters. 

The way you make me believe I could be the man you deserve.

You shift in your sleep, your body turning slightly toward me, and I freeze for a second, thinking you’re waking up. But you don’t. You just let out a soft sigh, your hand twitching as it curls into the pillow, and then you settle again, your breathing evening out once more.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

God, I’ve got it bad.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt like this. The last time I’ve cared this much about someone, about something that wasn’t already a part of my life. I was used to keeping things simple, keeping my world small. It was easier that way. Less messy, less tiring. But you…you snuck in somehow, made a place for yourself without me even realizing it, and now that you are here, I don’t want to let you go.

I won’t tell you that, though. I’m not stupid. I know you aren’t ready to hear it, and the last thing I want to do is overstep and scare you off. I can wait. I can be patient.

But that doesn’t stop me from feeling it.

My eyes trace the curve of your cheek, the gentle slope of your lips, and my fingers itch to touch you. I know I shouldn’t. I know this is already more than you’ve given me before.

But It’s hard. It’s hard not to reach out and hold onto this moment, to hold onto you.

I let out a slow breath, trying to steady myself and my heartbeat, but my thoughts keep circling back to the same thing: What if this is the only time?

I reach out, finally letting my fingers brush lightly against your temple, tracing your soft skin, your cheek, your shoulder. You don’t stir, don’t even flinch, and for some reason, that makes my chest tighten even more. You trust me, even in your sleep. Trust me enough to let me be here with you, to see you like this, vulnerable and real.

And that…that means more to me than I could ever put into words.

I move closer, just enough so that our bodies are barely touching, and I let myself close my eyes for a moment, even though I know I won’t sleep. Not tonight. Not with you here, like this.

Instead, I just let myself feel it. The warmth of your skin, the soft rise and fall of your breathing, the steady beat of your heart just a few inches away from mine. It’s a quiet kind of intimacy, one I haven’t realized I’ve been missing for a long time.

Maybe tomorrow you’ll wake up and slip away again, back to the way things always are between us. Maybe you’ll put up your walls, tell yourself this didn’t mean anything more than any other night. And maybe I’ll let you, because I’m not ready to push for more, not yet.

For now, you’re here. You’re here. And that’s enough.

For now, that’s enough.

I open my eyes again, letting them drift back to your face. You’re still so peaceful, so soft in the moonlight, and I feel something swell in my chest that I haven’t felt in years. Something big, something real.

I lean in, just a little, pressing the softest kiss to your warm forehead, barely more than a whisper of touch. You don’t wake, don’t even stir, but the simple act makes something settle deep inside me. Like this is right. Like this is how it’s supposed to be.

I could stay like this all night, just watching you, soaking in the quiet comfort of you beside me. And maybe I would, if I didn’t feel the pull of sleep finally creeping up on me. My eyelids grow heavier with each passing second, and even though I try to fight it, I know I can’t stay awake forever.

You keep me on my toes, but I’m not thirty anymore. 

So, with one last look at you, one last moment of quietly letting myself feel everything I haven’t been ready to admit, I let my eyes close. My hand rests lightly against your waist, and I finally let sleep take me.

For the first time in a long time, I fall asleep feeling like I’m not alone. Like I don’t have to be. Like maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something more.

And that thought—you—is the last thing on my mind before I drift off.

– – –

Series Masterlist ♡ Joel Masterlist ♡ AO3

taglist: @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @theoraekenslover @moel-jiller

@dugiioh @eviestevie-14 @ghostofzion @joeldjarin @jupiter-soups

@koshkaj-blog @missladym @paleidiot @pattwtf @theoraekenslover

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@the-orange-tabby-cat @tuquoquebrute @witchofthedeepwoods @yassspose @rarachelchel

@am-3-thyst @joelinawrites @purpleprincess75

[daisies-daydreams]

Intoxicating (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Breeding Kink, Feral!Miguel O'Hara, Pheromones, Use of Petnames, Rough Sex, P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampie, Mating Press, Baby Talk, SPOILER FOR ATSV Word Count: 1.5k+

A/N: Based on a prompt by @imslightlycreative. Literally cannot get enough of this man, istg. 😩🥴 I apologize, my Spanish is pretty rough. If I got anything wrong feel free to correct me. Translations are at the end of the fic. I hope you enjoy!

Original Prompt: "Reader is ovulating. Miguel finds out that his heightened senses can also pick up on pheromones".

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Miguel crept through the bedroom door. His hard heart softened when he saw you tucked beneath the comforter. You sighed and shifted slightly, your breathing steady as you slept soundly. He hovered next to you, his hand brushing some messy hair out of your face. Just as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, a bolt shot down his spine. His nostrils flared as he picked up on a scent: it was potent and sweet like rose water, yet intoxicating like wine. His talons suddenly drew out on their own as his pupils began to dilate.

"¿Qué carajo?" he muttered as his skin crawled, heat stirring inside his chest. The hair on his arms stood on end as he suddenly released a quiet grunt. Your eyes fluttered open as he clamped his hands over his mouth. 

“¿Miguel?,” you blinked. Miguel’s hands shook as his carnal desires began to devour every inch of his body. He parted his lips as he felt a familiar throb in between his legs.

“Sí, bebé. I’m home,” he murmured, his voice husky and low. He swallowed thickly as you shifted yourself up, revealing your naked breasts from beneath the covers. His head spun as you slid your hand into his, your touch sending ripples down his spine and straight to his cock. 

“Are you feeling okay, hermoso? You’re breathing pretty heavily,” you frowned as you stretched your arms out to cup his face. Miguel released a shaky sigh as you laid a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up,” you said. Miguel nodded and licked his dry lips, his words swirling around in his clouded mind like a torrent. 

“J-Just some leftover adrenaline from the the mission,” he explained shakily, his eyes raking down your luscious body. You tilted your head. 

“Are you-” You gasped when Miguel’s large shadow suddenly cast over yours. He caged you in between his muscular thighs as he bared his teeth over your pulse. A deep hunger rose from the pit of his belly and spilled into every corner of his mind. His nostrils flared as he battled with the part of him that desperately wanted to rut into you. 

“M-Miguel,” you sighed as you swallowed. Your mouth opened as he stuck his nose where your shoulder and neck met, inhaling your scent. 

“What perfume are you wearing, cariño?” he purred. You whined as he scraped his teeth over your soft flesh. You arched your back and gasped when his hips bucked forward into your bare pussy.

“I-I’m not wearing perfume,” you said with a shaky breath. Miguel’s eyes snapped open as his lips danced over your collar bone. 

You weren’t wearing perfume? Then, that scent…

Miguel’s gaze went back to your breasts. Curiously, he cupped them in his palms before giving them a light squeeze. You moaned, your mouth falling open into a wide “O”.  

“Ah-Mig,” you cried out. Miguel's lips fell into a straight line. Your whole face turned a deep shade of crimson as his lips trailed down your torso. The smell became stronger as he came closer to your dripping cunt. Miguel’s chest heaved as his hands slid down from your tender breasts and spread your thighs apart.

His hot breath fanned over your pussy before he gently lashed his tongue across your folds. His body felt like it was on fire as he lapped your sweet arousal into his mouth. The last shred of his willpower snapped with the taste of you on his tongue. Miguel released an animalistic snarl as he lunged forward and completely pinned you to the bed. Your eyes widened with shock as he grinded his hips against yours, his cock rock-hard and ready to burst.

"Cariño, te necesito," he practically whined as he drove his clothed cock against your naked pussy. You keened as wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Arruíname,” you keened with drunk, half-lidded eyes. His crimson eyes rolled into the back of his head as he cut a slit in his pants with his talons. His dick sprang out and bounced on your stomach. Your eyes glistened at the sight of his swollen, flushed cock leaking with precum.

“Mi hermosa,” Miguel snarled. He brought his hands beneath your thighs before sheathing his cock inside your wet heat in one eager thrust. He couldn’t get enough of the small moans and cries that tumbled from your lips as he eagerly pounded into you. Your tight cunt greedily sucked him in as his dick slid along your plush walls. “Tan apretada,” Miguel gasped as your pussy fluttered around him. The room was filled with the lewd sounds of wet squelching and skin slapping against skin. He bared his fangs as his heavy balls smacked against your puffy, wet folds. 

“M-Miguel,” you drooled when the tip of his cock reached into your cervix. It felt softer and more open as he relentlessly stroked against it. "Feel so good, Papi-please go faster!" you begged. You released a silent scream as Miguel pressed your legs up to your shoulders. Your slick splashed against him each time he buried himself to the hilt inside you. He leaned down to your ear.

“¿Quieres a mi bebe?” he rasped. You mewled at his words, your hands scraping down his taut forearms. 

“Fuck, Miguel,” you whined. The creases of your knees were held in his palms as his cock somehow struck even deeper within you. His lips crashed into yours as he nearly folded you in half, your slick dribbling down across the bulge that poked out of your lower stomach. 

“Want me to put a baby in you, hm? Want me to fill you up again and again until you can’t walk?” he husked. You released a moan loud enough to shake the bedroom walls. 

“Yes-yes I want your baby! Please fill up my pussy, Papi!” you begged. Miguel smirked as he slid his tongue along your jawline and pistoned into you at a brutal pace. 

“Buena chica,” he purred. His balls began to feel tight as your walls restricted around his boiling shaft. Miguel had to admit that he loved seeing you like this: folded and ready to take his seed. “Vamos, puedes hacerlo,” the man groaned as he saw your eyes squeeze shut and brows pinch together. Your breasts rose and fell as your breathing became ragged. 

“MIG!” you screamed as your hands raked down his back. He grunted as your cunt clamped down and spasmed around his thick cock. 

“Tan buena, tan buena para mi,” Miguel strained as he tried to push through the way your pussy squeezed his cock. The way your face twisted in ecstasy brought him closer to the edge. The back of your thighs jiggled against the front of his thighs. His thrusts became sloppy as you whined below him. 

“Fill me, fill me,” you begged incessantly, your lips parted as drool slid down your face. Miguel could feel the red-hot eruption boiling in his cock as he heard your pussy squelch around his length. 

“Mierda,” he grunted. You gazed into his darkened eyes, hot tears rolling down your glowing cheeks. 

“Papi,” you cooed. The simple word finally pushed Miguel over the edge. He yelled and slammed his hips down. His mind was drowning in waves of pleasure as his body stiffened. Miguel’s cock throbbed as he squirted rope after rope of his thick cum into your stretched hole. 

He panted as he felt the tension in his body begin to unravel-feeling at how his cum bubbled and spilled out where your sexes were joined. His dick twitched as it released the last stream of his spend, stuffing you completely full of his seed. Miguel’s eyelids drooped as he caught his breath. You gazed up at him, tear stains still trailing down your face.

He cooed as he leaned down, hushing you with a gentle kiss. Miguel wrapped his arms around you as he lay on top of you, his cock still plugged in your weeping cunt. He felt your hot breath fan over his shoulder as you played with his raven hair. 

“Did you know I was ovulating?” you asked. His eyes snapped open. 

“It was just a hunch,” he mumbled, his mind still somewhat drunk from your cunt squeezing him so tightly. You giggled and kissed his temple. His body began to relax as he listened to your heartbeat steady. 

“So, how many are we going to have?” you whispered. Miguel’s throat tightened as he looked at you with a soft gaze. 

“You mean-you really want to have…” his voice trailed off as images of his variant daughter flashed through his mind. You beamed and cupped his cheek, kissing the tip of his nose while nodding. Joy spread from the cracks in his heart all the way to the tips of his fingers. A wide smile stretched across his face as he kissed you over and over again, his hand trailing down your side. 

“Gracias, mi vida,” he whispered, his eyes misty as he swallowed a lump in his throat. You sighed, then gasped when he rolled both of you over. 

“Miggy!” you giggled as he nipped at your ear. You mewled as he pressed his chest against your back and shallowly pumped his cock into you. His cum sloshed around inside you as he whispered into your ear. 

“We might as well get a head start, since my cock is already stuffed inside your tight cunt”.

___

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Translations:

¿Qué carajo? - What the fuck?

Papi - Daddy

Sí, bebé - Yes, baby

Hermoso/Hermosa - Handsome/Gorgeous

Te necesito, cariño - I need you, honey

Arruíname- Ruin me

Tan apretada - So tight

¿Quieres a mi bebe? - Do you want my baby?

Buena chica - Good girl

Vamos, puedes hacerlo - Come on, you can do it

Tan buena, tan buena para mi - So good, so good for me

Mierda - Shit

Gracias, mi vida - Thank you, my life

[cvnntagious]

is there some cute moments between babydaddy!matt and brat!reader? before she gets pregnant, during pregnancy or after🥹

i had the worst week of my life and i need some comfort tbh.... i feel im gonna go insane

☆ before brat!reader got pregant—matt would constantly talk about having kids, asking her questions he thought were mostly silly at the time, like 'would you prefer a boy or girl?' or, 'what you think they'd look like?'. he'd say nothing more than some hypothetical 'what if questions'

as matt sat behind brat, hands kneeding at a knot in her back, he leaned down, placing a supple kiss on the crook of her neck. his heart melted when she giggled, lifting her shoulders and leaning her head to one side to hide the area as if it tickled.

he then let out a long breath, a look of endearment spreading across his face as he stared at the back of her head. "baby..." he finally spoke up, clearing his throat when her head turned so she could meet his longing gaze, "do you... even want to have kids with me?"

her eyes widened slightly, a bit of surprise at her question. yeah, she knew he loved to make jokes about having babies, but somehow, she didn't expect him to get so serious about it—so randomly, at that.

still, she didn't hesitate to nod, finding herself chuckling as her eyes closed, beginning to imagine what a life would be like as a mother, matt by her side. "r- wait, really?" he asked, tone laced with both excitement and disbelief.

"i mean, who else would i have a kid with?"

☆ during brat!reader's pregnancy—matt loved holding her belly to take the weight off her back.

he stood behind her in the kitchen, arms cradling her swollen stomach as she let out loud sighs of relief. his eyes softened when she leaned her head back, allowing it to rest on his shoulder as the tension on her forhead seemed to almost immediately dissipate.

sure, matt didn't look the strongest, and truthfully, maybe he wasn't the strongest, but when he saw his girl carrying his baby, feeling light as a feather when he'd lift their baggage ever so gently, he couldn't help but feel like he could stand there for hours. he knew he'd do anything to make her as comfortable as possible, even if that meant standing in that kitchen until his limbs ached.

☆ after brat!reader's pregnancy—matt never hesitated to tuck her into bed at night.

after long days of taking care of their newborn, matt knew brat was the most tired she'd ever been in her life, sitting idly on her couch when he'd see her come out of mazzy's room, staggering through the door not far from it. his eyes would stay trained on his phone, opting to peek at her through his peripheral so she could make it to her room in peace.

he watched her flop on her bed, just barely hitting the target as she groaned. she didn't even bother to lay her head on the pillow, almost immediately falling to sleep as soon as she felt the warmth of her soft mattress beneath her.

matt's eyes lifted, waiting for a few moments as he watched for signs of consciousness before he rose from his spot. he tiptoed past the baby's room, creeping into brat's as he felt his heartbeat quickening;this was the most peaceful he'd seen her since before the pregnancy. her chest rose and fell with soft breaths, pink lips slightly parted as his blue eyes scanned her.

he felt like a creep, in all honestly, sighing as he turned his head in search for a blanket, which she'd forgotten in all her tiredness. lifting the fuzzy pink blanket at the edge of her bed, he laid it out over her, leaning down to tuck some parts under her body slowly.

though he was well-aware that if she woke up right now, she'd be pissed that he was in her room, he couldn't help but feel the need to take care of her. with that, he was fully prepared to do this as many times as he needed, wanting her to get as many comfortable hours of sleep as possible.

and he'd take care of mazzy if she woke up in the night, like he had been for the past few days. then, he'd leave for work early in the morning, allowing brat to have her time with the baby before he'd come back at night and do it all again...

sorry if this's rushed, normally i'd make a whole post about this and tag you in it, but since you were having a bad week, i wanted to get this put asap :)

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: Scenarios in which you find out just how ... ticklish some of your companions are.

Featuring: Wyll, Shadowheart, Gale, Astarion and Lae'zel.

Genres: Humour, fluff, crack.

Slight Tav/Shadowheart and Tav/Astarion. Tav is a menace.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

(Readers, have some mindless fluff. Work has broken my mind and this is all I can write.)

Wyll: The Crab

The moment he'd emerged from his tent that morning, Gale had surveyed the clear skies, the promise of truly spectacular weather, and declared that today would be the day for cooking up a batch of fresh catch.

So it was that you had found yourself at the docks, strolling past hawkers displaying rows and rows of tempting sea harvest. From beneath the canvas awnings, scales and fins of fish gleamed, empty eyes turned skyward, bellies sliced open to display the pure white flesh underneath.

At your side, Wyll paced along, arms swinging slightly, a faint smile on his face as he took in the familiar sights and scents. He had volunteered to accompany you, to help carry the load of produce that you would inevitably purchase.

Rounding the corner, your fingers closed on his arm, tugging excitedly.

"Oh, it's been a while since I've seen deep sea emerald crab! And just look at how perfect they are!"

Piled high in a basin, the shells of the crabs shone with jewel-like lustre. In no time, taking advantage of this rare opportunity, you had paid off the fishmonger and your precious cargo of crab had been safely enclosed and tied up in netting.

"Here."

You handed over the bag to Wyll.

"Hold that. I'll look around for some mussels and sea bream. Can't have a feast without those."

Wyll took the bag, but you noticed his slight reluctance. Cocking an eyebrow, you received his hasty acknowledgement.

"Oh, no problem. You go on ahead."

Strutting further down the walkway, you shot a brief glance back at Wyll. He was holding the bad of crabs at arms length, obviously trying to be subtle.

What was that all about?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sight of some large scallops, of stunning quality, and you promptly forgot about Wyll's strange aversion to crabs.

A half hour later, you were happily making your way back to camp, pack laden with more goods, when you heard a strange noise from Wyll. Turning, you saw that he'd been forced to carry the crabs tucked under an arm, his shoulders occupied with the other baskets.

"Everything all right?"

"Oh, yeah. Everything's fine."

"Then what - "

Before you managed to complete your sentence, Wyll let out an explosive wheeze. He doubled over abruptly and you dropped your pack in concern as you hurried over to him.

"Wyll!"

He raised a hand, palm out, stopping your advance.

"N - Nothing to wo - worry 'bout, I - I assure- "

Another sudden explosive breath, his hands tugging the crabs away from him. It was then that you noticed that the legs of the crustaceans were still moving, in slightly jerky fashion. They weren't alive, some remnant of muscle memory causing their strange dance.

And it seemed that Wyll could not handle the sensation of it along his stomach.

You paused, a slow grin forming.

"Wait, are you - "

"N - Not what you think - "

Your hand came to rest on your chin.

"Oh, but Wyll, I rather think it is."

"C - Can you not - "

"Tell the others that a crab tickled your fancy? If you compensate me enough, I might be tempted."

He gazed up at you, something like defeat in his expression as your smile grew wider.

"H - Horns don't make a devil, it seems."

Shadowheart: Cliffhangers

There was a specific kind of enemy that grated on your nerves more than any other; the flying kind.

Butterflies and brightly feathered birds were all well and good, but summoned mud mephits and their greasy counterparts were deserving of a special place in Avernus as far as you were concerned.

Such were the thoughts cluttering your mind as you clung to the side of a cliff, the path that had wound along its edge now narrowing to little more than a foot-span.

You'd managed to use your arrows as makeshift climbing spikes, the muscles of your shoulders screaming in protest each time you stabbed a steel head into the rock, clinging on for dear life. The flapping and constant harassment of the mephits just made things exponentially worse.

Edging your way forward, you managed to turn your head slightly to see how Shadowheart was faring. She had slipped and lost a shoe a few yards back, the unfortunate item tumbling all the way down to the foam-clad rocks that jutted from the sea below. A terrifying sight indeed.

Just when you thought that things couldn't possibly get any worse, the terrain of the narrow ledge beneath your feet took on a different texture. Glancing down, you paused and let out a groan.

"What? What is it?" came Shadowheart's tight query. It sounded as if her teeth had been ground to dust from all the tension.

"Just watch your footing here. There's some kind of sentient moss. It's... wavy. Looks a bit slippery."

Shadowheart muttered something that was carried away by the wind and the flapping of the mud mephits. You knew your warning had been heard, so you continued edging your way forward. The moss was soft beneath the soles of your boots, giving way and then springing back up as you passed. Fortunately, it wasn't excessively damp.

As you edged forward, lips moving in a chant designed to keep your concentration, you heard a low noise come from Shadowheart, something like a soft squeal of protest. Whipping your head around, you saw that her eyes were squeezed shut, mouth puckered and trembling.

"What's wrong? Shadowheart?"

She didn't reply, but remained stationary, panic now evident on her face. Her whole body gave a spasmodic twitch.

"Hey!"

You grabbed her arm before she slipped, dragging her toward you. As her bare foot passed over the wavy moss she let out a decidedly high pitched shriek, the kind you'd never heard from her before.

"Wait, wait, not the moss!"

"What?"

"It's ... under my feet! It's squiggly and moving!"

There, on the side of the cliff, with the unappealing prospect of tumbling to your death on the rocks below, you were faced with the sudden, disjointed reality that Shadowheart's ticklish feet might kill you both.

Your blank expression jarred something in her. She stared defiantly back, cheeks now steaming scarlet, eyes flashing in embarrassment. It was ... terribly cute.

Her voice emerged in a hiss.

"Don't you dare judge me."

"I'm not - "

"Look, if I don't get off this moss, I'm going to fall. There's no two ways about it."

"Uh, all right. So ... what can we - "

You paused to swat away a mephit, and you could tell that she was bracing herself for what she had to say next.

"Carry me."

"What?"

"On your back. If we maneuver, we can do it. I'll keep the mephits away. You focus on moving."

"Easier said than done!"

"Not when the alternative is dying. Now hurry up, I - I can't stand here much longer."

Somehow, you both managed to move into the required position. It was precarious going. Shadowheart managed to grip the ridges of the cliff, briefly lifting herself while you stooped slightly. Muscles quivering with exertion, you raised her and her knees sunk tightly into your sides. You immediately clutched at the cliff again, breathing ragged.

Slow as your progress was, you finally made it to the end, where the narrow shelf widened and rejoined the top of the cliff path.

Here, you collapsed, Shadowheart springing nimbly from your shoulders. You were both drenched in sweat and she was avoiding your gaze.

"Some climb, huh?"

"Oh, shut up," she snapped. She paused, tone softening considerably.

"And thanks."

"You won't be thanking me when I tell the tale tonight around a roaring campfire."

She groaned and covered her face with her palms.

"What do you want?"

"A massage for my very sore shoulders. And new arrows. These have been blunted beyond recognition."

"Ugh. Done."

Gale: Laughter most hideous

The battle had been short, but vicious. While you'd managed to overpower the cultists rather quickly, their rapid movements and knack for disappearing and reappearing in strategic places had run your team ragged.

One particular cultist seemed to have an entire library of scrolls shoved down his trousers, because the barrage of irritating cantrips had been near constant. Apparently, wearing your opponent down with utter triviality was an accepted strategy.

Gale, of course, had dealt with the majority of your magical defenses, his shields as powerful and reliable as ever. Even he, however, hadn't been able to prevent every attack from striking true. A few negligible energy missiles had made their way through, and he'd been hit by a spell of Hideous Laughter.

While he'd waved away the spell's effects with an almost lazy brush of the hand, you were now noticing odd motions from him as you climbed your way out of the sewers. He twitched every so often, and moved his shoulders up and down with an odd stiffness.

You weren't the only one who noticed. In her usual brusque manner, Lae'zel brought the matter up.

"Has a slime crawled into your robes, wizard?"

"Ah, no. No. Nothing like that. Just a little ... "

He shrugged again, face contorting.

Lae'zel brandished her sword.

"I can beat it out of your clothes if you like."

"That won't be necessary, I assure you."

"Maybe he's picked up an infection," came Astarion's drawl from the rear. "The kind that leaves crusts in your underwear. Hang around in sewers long enough and it's bound to happen."

"No, Astarion, it isn't that either. It's - "

You frowned as Gale cut off, a chagrined set to his mouth.

"Look, it was that scroll. The one of Hideous Laughter. It ... can't affect me in quite the same way as others. I have a natural resistance. But it has ... residual effects. In hard to reach places. Like my back."

You spread your hands.

"Oh, well that's ... something we can deal with right?"

"Well ... if someone would be so kind as to lend me some kind of implement with which to scratch that itch, I - "

Lae'zel waved her sword again.

"No, Lae'zel, not that - "

Astarion came forward and slapped something into your palm, his smile made devilish by the dim lighting of the cistern.

"What say we take care of our wizard?"

You glanced down and saw that he'd handed you one of his gloves, the fingers narrowed to fine points to assist with the precision of his lockpicking. Unanimously, you both turned to Gale and advanced on him.

Now looking rather nervous, your resident wizard raised his hands.

"Now hold on, you two, what are you - "

"Relax, Gale. We're here to help."

Lae'zel snorted.

"This should be interesting."

Astarion grasped Gale's shoulders and spun him around, facing away from you. You fitted Astarion's glove onto your hand and you both turned Gale's robe up, exposing the bare skin of his back above his trousers.

"Uh, I'll have you both know that my skin is rather sensitive there - Oh Gods!"

The last part emerged as a yelp as two hands clad in the designated back scratchers dragged down either side of his spine. Astarion's grin was now positively toothsome, canines glinting in the gloom.

"Why, what delightful sounds you make, Gale. I'd never have known - "

"Stop, stop, hold on - "

You punctuated Gale's protest with a downward motion of your own hand and he jumped slightly.

"As satisfying as this is - "

"I thought your back was unbearably itchy?"

"It is! I'm just ... it's ticklish, you imbeciles!"

Astarion raised a hand to his mouth in mock surprise.

"Ticklish? You? The mighty wizard?"

"Well, being in possession of a normal, functioning body makes me ticklish in certain ... areas, so yes!"

You frowned and considered this key piece of information.

"He has a normal human body, Astarion."

"Oh, that's very clear, from his ... precious little reactions."

"I say we continue with his treatment then."

"I concur, my sweet sewer conquerer."

"Now just a minute - "

Gale was soon rendered helpless beneath the co-ordinated motion of your fingers, laughter escaping him in short bursts, his form squirming and writhing in your grasp. In spite of his struggles, you managed to firmly take on the itch that had lodged itself there, soon dissipating under the rigorous scratching you gave him.

When you'd emerged from the sewers, both you and Astarion looked particularly smug, Gale's disshevelled clothes and hair, along with his embarrassed expression, attracting a few stares from passers-by.

You were fully aware, through all of this, that he could have worked the Weave to push you away at any time.

A thought to store away, it seemed.

Astarion: All pointy ears

"Well, isn't this comfortable."

The sensual purr of Astarion's voice in no way countered the situation you were both currently in. You let out a low growl and he tutted.

"Now, now. No need to be grumpy, sweetheart. After all, wouldn't you rather be tied up with me than any of our other companions?"

And tied up you were. Being the stealthier members of your group, you'd taken it upon yourselves to raid the vault of a local weapons dealer, happening upon a beautifully loaded safe that Astarion had managed to crack.

Right before you'd been caught, that is.

You were not sure how they'd managed to get the jump on you. Astarion's sensitive sense of smell had detected a whiff of sulphur, a mark of demonic infestation. It was entirely possible that the dealer had managed to wrangle some kind of security contract with a contact in Avernus that alerted him whenever the safe was tampered with.

Either way, you'd both been restrained with some expert knots, tied together back to back on a pair of chairs and left to rot until the dealer returned with his 'information specialists'. A coy term for torture and interrogation personnel, no doubt.

With the number of crossbows trained on you, there had been no question of a flashy escape. The room was too brightly lit for Astarion's shadow-based techniques to be of much use.

So, here you both were; languishing in the lower levels of the enemy base, wrists and ankles growing increasingly numb due to the tight knots. Well, at least your circulation was an issue. You weren't sure if vampires suffered from the same setbacks.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you leaned back.

"Any brilliant ideas on how we can get out of this mess?"

"Hmm."

You felt his body shift behind you, the rope creaking as he tested the knots. There was a moment of silence before Astarion spoke again, his tone a touch more plaintive this time.

"Well. They've certainly gone to town with these damnable knots."

"You don't think we can loosen them?"

More silence. Unusual.

"Astarion?"

He let out a put-upon sigh.

"There is a way ... not that I prefer it. But I've done it before when I've been in a ... sticky situation."

"And what's that?"

"I ... gnaw through the ropes."

Despite the situation, your snort of laughter was explosively loud in the small room.

"Gnaw? Like a rabbit?"

"I'd prefer not to be referred to as such, thank you," came his acidic reply.

"Fair enough."

You hastily stifled your amusement before Astarion decided to nibble through his own restraints and leave you behind. Instead, you addressed the more pertinent issue; your backs were tied to the chairs and maneuvering would be very difficult.

"So, how are you going to get your head on level with the rope?"

"I've thought of something. You still have the scabbard of your sword at your belt, correct?"

"Yes?"

"If you manage to hook it into my ropes, and I move from side to side, I can get the ropes to lift upwards and over my head. Then I bite through the ones on my wrist."

"Hmm. That ... might just work. Hold on, let me ... "

Pressing down with your elbow, you angled the empty scabbard still strapped to your waist. The edges were hard steel, not sharp, but using your body weight for leverage, it would be firm enough to enact the scenario that Astarion had envisioned.

"All right, I'm moving the scabbard towards you now."

He shifted again, pressing closer to you on one side. Using your thigh and elbow, muscles twisting awkwardly, you pushed the scabbard slowly towards him. You felt the resistance as it prodded between the ropes that bound him to the chair.

"Almost ... got it ... almost ... ha!"

You gave a soft triumphant shout as it slid home. Astarion murmured in encouragement before beginning his slow movement from side to side, careful not to unbalance either of your chairs.

Bit by bit, the ropes slid down, time passing inexorably as he inched his way through the bindings. You could feel his body slide downwards, his head descending as he lossened the ropes steadily against the firm anchor of the scabbard.

It pulled free a few times and Astarion groaned theatrically and made a jest about the 'tip slipping out', much to your annoyance.

All things considered, your escape attempt was going swimmingly, until it was time for his head to slide through the rope. The cloth upper of the scabbard, now fraying at the edges, caught on his ear.

Astarion let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a giggle.

"Ah! Oh my."

"What? Did you hurt yourself?"

"No. I mean, yes, there's some rope burn, but nothing I haven't experienced before."

"So ... what was that?"

"Nothing."

It certainly wasn't nothing. As you helped him shimmy through the ropes, a series of hiccuping breaths, stifled shrieks and sounds of barely contained hilarity reached your ears.

"Astarion. Do you want to tell me what the fuck is going on back there?"

"My apologies, d - darling, it's just ... the threads on y - your scabbard are in my ear and - ah!"

Another bout of hissing and snorts.

"Oh, why, that's ... p - positively ... positively ... ticklish - eeeh!"

Gods, you were going to absolutely murder this unhinged man.

Gritting your teeth, you held firm as he finally made his way out, fangs immediately going to work on the ropes that bound his wrists. Once you were both free, you slowly made your way from the bowels of the enemy hideout, Astarion's lockpicking skills once again proving useful.

He was skilled, you'd give him that, even with all of his ... unique foibles.

With his pick in the final lock, he shot you a sly glance.

"Well? I don't see you mentioning my little weakness."

The delicate point of one of his ears twitched mockingly. You raised an eyebrow.

"Do you want me to mention it?"

"Oh, you're no fun."

He leaned towards you, a slow, seductive smile curling his lips, hands still busy with the lock even though his eyes weren't.

Show off.

"Go on, tweak my ear. I know you want to."

"Astarion, now isn't the time for - "

"Just do it. For luck."

"Oh, for the love of - "

Reaching up, you pinched his lobe delicately. He let out a noise that wouldn't have sounded out of place in an erotic theatre production. From nearby, you heard the shift of boots on a wooden floor. One of the dealer's gang called out.

"Oi, did you hear that?"

You shook Astarion wildly.

"Get us the fuck out of here you - "

The final tumbler of the lock clicked into place and you both fled into the streets, the sound of Astarion's low cackle ghosting through the evening air.

Lae'zel: Gith psionics

Lae'zel's eyes shone in the gloom, one hand raised: a signal. In the forest clearing before you, your quarry had slowed, pausing to scent the air.

A large deer, enough to feed the camp for a week.

There was a bounty of smaller game within these woods, but Lae'zel had insisted on finding the best possible prey.

Raising your bow at her signal, you let fly an arrow. It struck true, taking the animal in the neck. The deer went down and Lae'zel smirked.

"Good strike."

"Indeed, if I may say so myself."

You straightened and pulled your pack from your shoulders, ready to prepare for carrying the deer back to camp. Voices from further within the trees interrupted you, Lae'zel instantly on high alert.

Three individuals appeared in the clearing, each carrying a rather lethal-looking bow and hunting knives. They stopped in a ring around the dead deer, their posture arrogant and territorial. The leader, a half elf with dark hair cut short, raised her chin in challenge.

"What's this? You trying to make off with our kill?"

Lae'zel growled and you paused, assessing the situation rapidly.

Oh, you knew full well what this was. Closer to larger settlements, hunting rackets such as this one were bound to spring up. They appeared as if by magic whenever someone else got lucky, intimidating other hunters into leaving their choice kills behind.

Adopting a subservient smile, you stepped forward, hands raised and empty as a show of non-aggression. They did not lower their guard, but you did notice that their eyes were fixed on Lae'zel more than you. She obviously registered as the larger threat. You cleared your throat.

"Now, there's no need for unpleasantness. That's a big deer. We can always share - "

"The kill goes to us. We took it down. That's my arrow."

The half-elf's tone was snappish, brooking no argument. You shrunk inward at her rebuke.

"But, please, if we could just - "

In the moment she took her eyes from you, no longer considering you any danger, you moved. Your arrow was nocked and released faster than any of them had a chance to react, lodging deep in her neck.

There was a brief moment where the other two remained frozen, even as their leader sank to her knees, crimson bubbling from her torn throat. In that instant, Lae'zel was among them, sword flashing once, twice.

They dropped like flies.

Lowering your bow, you blew out a breath.

"Well. Looks like their temporary reign in these woods is over."

Lae'zel snorted.

"And good riddance. How pathetic."

"Indeed - oh! Look!"

Scrambling forward, you examined the leather armour the half-elf leader was wearing.

"Gods, they don't make hunting gear like this anymore. Probably stolen. I'm taking this. This is amazing quality."

Your companion shrugged, cleaning her blade.

"The spoils of war go to the victor. You've won it fair and square."

Now, however, you were faced with a different dilemma. The weight of the deer would be difficult to bear along with the dead bandit's armour. You asked Lae'zel if she could wear the armour over her own, temporarily, while you both carried the deer back to camp. She agreed, if rather tersely.

The deer strung up on a sturdy branch you'd whittled for the purpose, carried between your shoulders, you made the trek back through the trees.

It was then that you noticed Lae'zel's odd movements. The leather armour she wore over hers was comprised of a number of interconnected strips, some of which formed a wavy collar. This seemed to bring her some kind of discomfort, because she kept shifting and tugging at the armour, cursing softly under her breath.

"Lae'zel? Is everything all right?"

"Of course."

She brushed off your queries with her customary shortness, but you could see how uncomfortable she was. An idea, half-formed, sprung into your mind.

Surely ... surely she wasn't-

Time to test a hypothesis, so to speak.

You 'accidentally' stumbled, brushing your hand over the collar. Lae'zel gave a start of surprise, before glaring over her shoulder at you.

"Watch it."

Well now. Wasn't this interesting.

It seemed that the back of Lae'zel's neck was particularly sensitive. You couldn't help but wonder just how much sensitivity was contained in that area. Perhaps more testing was required.

It would certainly be useful to know for your in-camp sparring sessions which inevitably ended with you bent over Lae'zel's knee, or with your face in the dirt.

Teasing some of the feathered fletching from one of your arrows, you raised it delicately, touch as light as an evening breeze. You brought it slowly towards the targeted zone, right beneath where her braids shifted and parted, holding your breath.

As soon as the feather made contact, the world seemed to shift around you. The deer on your shoulder was suddenly a dead weight, dragging you to the ground, you feet slipping and sliding for purchase before you went down. Raising yourself on your elbows, you looked around, bewildered.

Lae'zel had ... disappeared.

"Lae'zel?" you shouted.

What on earth?

Standing, you brushed mud from your knees. She was simply ... gone. There was no sign of her anywhere.

Turning frantically on the spot, a noise in the foliage above caught your attention. Head snapping up, you beheld quite the sight.

In the highest branches of the tree beside you, Lae'zel crouched, furiously swatting at her neck. It seemed that your experiment had worked beyond your wildest dreams. The ticklish sensation against her neck had caused her gith psionics to kick in.

Clearing your throat, you adopted a confused stance.

"What on earth are you doing up there?"

She stopped her movements abruptly, the realisation of what she'd done reflected in the widening of her eyes. Her gaze flicked between her hand and you, obviously choosing her words carefully.

"Hmm. I was just ... I heard something up ahead. Possibly more ... bandits. Yes. I came up here to ... check the area."

You waved exasperatedly at the deer.

"Well, fine, but maybe give me a warning next time?"

She slid down and dropped back to the ground, not entirely meeting your querying gaze. Her mouth pulled into a sour line.

"Hmph. Well, maybe get stronger and you won't buckle under the weight of one animal."

Needless to say, you refrained from any further 'experimentation' on the way back to camp. Lae'zel insisted that you wore the armour for the latter part of the journey.

Still in the rear, you allowed your devious grin to re-appear. Sparring sessions would be much more satisfying from here on out.

[bloodsuckingfiends]

So about those smutty drabble ideas …

Astarion tries to seduce Tav but finds out he would be her first. So he will take even more special care of them. He does like Tav, after all. Whether he admits it to himself or not.

A Failed Plan

A/N: He is so smitten and doesn't even know it and I love it. Also, this came out longer than I originally intended oopsies

Warnings: blood, loss of virginity so smut, praise, Tav is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns

The metallic tang of blood, Tav's blood, hits Astarion within seconds. He withdraws himself from her core and she whimpers at the loss of fullness within her. His carmine gaze looks down to where they are joined, crimson staining both of their skin.

"Tav darling, is this your first time?" his voice is uncharacteristically soft.

Tav's cheeks and chest flush, and she takes a shaky breath, "Yes. I'm sorry, I should have told you." She flounders over her words, nervously looking up at the vampire above her.

"Shh sh sh," he hushes, his hand coming up to brush hair from her cheek, "it's alright, I just want to make sure so I can properly take care of you." A shiver shoots down his spine at the realization that he actually means what he's saying. That he does indeed want to make sure that during Tav's first time, she is cared for. That she doesn't regret it.

A small smile eases it's way onto Tav's lips as he reassures her, and her breathing begins to even out again. The beat beneath her ribcage slows, still an anxious beat, albeit less anxious now.

"If I would have known, I would have eased my way in, " Astarion drags the head of his length through her slick folds, tapping it gently against her clit, then notching it at her entrance. "Made sure that you would be able to easily take me."

Tav whimpers, tears pricking at her eyes as he slides into her, inch by painful inch. He was rather large. Larger than she expected he would be, especially for her first time.

Astarion's long fingers drag up Tav's arm, lacing with her own fingers. He dips his head to her cheek, lips pressing to the blushed skin in a soft kiss, following a path down her delicious neck, "How are you doing, pup?" His cool breath tickles her ear and she shudders.

"You're big." Tav murmurs, her thighs tightening around his waist.

"Yes, but look at you taking me so well, sweetheart." He leans back a little, making a show of watching as he slowly pulls out before easing back into her again, "so soft and warm."

"Please, more." Tav whispers a bit brokenly, her eyes meeting his. Pleasure, rather than pain, begins to build in her belly, and her brows knit together from it. Astarion's movements pick up, and he leans forward again to hold Tav against his chest. She tucks her face in the crook of his neck, eyes fluttering shut. Her hands come up to hold him back, resting on the expanse of his shoulder blades. He tenses as she touches his scars, before relaxing into her.

He snakes a hand between them, his dexterous fingers rubbing circles against her swollen clit. Tav mewls against his neck, hips bucking against his.

“Think you can c-come for me?” he tries to keep his voice steady, tries not to stutter, but he feels himself hurtling faster toward the precipice.

She moans an affirmative, her heels digging into his ass a sign that she’s close.

A few more circles and she comes, a loud cry escaping her lips as her thighs quake around his waist.

Astarion’s not far behind, and as she clenched around his cock, he falls over the edge, painting her insides with his seed.

He slows his hips, the both of them panting softly as they part from each other, Astarion rolling to the side and gently pulling Tav to rest against him.

“We can’t stay out here-“ she starts to protest before he cuts her off.

“It’s only for a moment, darling. Just relax for a moment.” His fingers mindlessly play with the ends of her hair, as she settles against him, and he listens to her heartbeat steady itself.

As she lays against him, beneath the stars, he begins to worry that his initial plan, just may be falling apart.

[peggyao3]

Pt. 24 - Somnophilia

A/N: Oh lawd, the further we come with Kinktober, the less I hold back 😂 Also - Sorry if you received a notification for this yesterday and it disappeared. Tumblr decided not to show it in the tags, so I decided to delete and try to repost later 🥺

TAGS: she/her AFAB FMC, dead dove, non-con, creampie, slight breeding kink

WORD COUNT: 580

His darling sleeps so soundly, face tucked into her pillow. The curve of her ass swells against her blanket, one knee raised almost to her chest to create an alluring, empty space between her thighs.

Silently, Feyd-Rautha crosses the distance between the door and her, sliding his lounge trousers down his strong, pale legs. Fully naked, he approaches her with slow, prowling gait. The mattress dips under his weight, but he is not afraid of waking her. The poor thing empties a mug of tea laced with soporific each night to deliver her from nightmares.

It's too bad that the very thing that haunts her, now shuffles her blanket and nightgown out of the way and sits between her legs. The thing is, his darling insists that she's not his darling and every attempt to break her in on his cock has ended in tears and hysteria.

Idly, Feyd-Rautha plays with her cunt, spreading her lower lips apart and trailing his middle finger across her slit which quickly dampens when he strokes the pad of his other thumb across her little bundle of nerves that tries to hide against the mattress. His middle finger sinks so easily into her channel and he watches it disappear knuckle by thick knuckle.

She could take him so well, if only she let him. He could make her so wet and hot for him, if she just trusted him.

Two fingers, a little faster. His digits come back out shiny and slick and he spreads the excess essence across her clit and labia before gently inching her raised leg further out of the way. His thick, heavy cock jumps against her wet slit all on its own when he cages her beneath his frame. His darling stirs.

"Ssshhh, it's just me~" Feyd-Rautha purrs softly and waits for her  to settle again before proceeding to sink into her hot, slick channel. Even now, she's still so tight and he has to force himself to thrust slowly, grounding himself with his teeth at her sweet, soft shoulder.

Her cunt clenches briefly when he is sheathed to the root and her ass cushions the sharp edges of his pelvis. Feyd-Rautha can't help the chuckle that wells deep and raspy in the pit of his chest.

"Hello, my darling," he purrs against her ear, tongue tracing the shape of it. "Do you recognize me?" Languidly, he pulls out halfway and sinks back inside, massaging her little pussy with the thick inches of his glorious cock.

This is Feyd-Rautha's most dangerous form. Not draped in armor and blades, not in his ornamental uniform or even in his war paint. He is at his most dangerous when he wears only his bare skin and his only weapons are his voice and his cock.

He picks up the pace slowly, curling his arms under her limp body in a parody of an embrace, yearning to protect his most precious possession when all she wants is protection from him.

Feyd wonders if she'll regret having her sleeping draught or be thankful for it, when she finds his spend between her thighs come the morning. He cannot wait to see the painful realization in her eyes, the shock and disgust when she realizes he has planted his seed in her belly at night.

Yes, it will hurt him, but he is willing to endure, firmly believing that sooner or later, she will beg for the pleasure of his cock and fall asleep with her cunt hot and waiting for him.

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