#that I've been calling

[sheliesshattered]

I miiiiight have just finished the next chapter in my long-neglected multi-part fic

[bi-writes]

the new baby you take care of is the cutest baby you've ever met. (a lil dubcon, baby trapping, 18+)

he has a big head with a tuff of little blond waves, and he has the brightest brown eyes in the entire world. he smiles at every face you make at him, and he takes a bottle like a champ and will nap for hours as long as you're quiet.

his father has a strict schedule set for him. when you met that big man for the very first time, you were speechless. your teeth had clacked together with how fast you tried to close your gawking mouth, but it was impossible not to with how much he towered over you, nearly touching the top of the doorway.

he is methodical, down to every minute. tacked onto the fridge, he had shown you his son's current schedule, which he emphasized with a dead glare must be followed to a T.

two feedings in the morning followed by a nap. another feeding. a longer nap. another feeding. another nap. all separated in increments of 45 minutes, with instructions on how to use the bottle warmer and how to measure the formula.

his son does not cry. his father had told you, if he cries, y'r doin' somethin' wrong. and he was right. the baby only cried when he was hungry, and he would fall into a dead sleep as soon as you gave him a bottle.

it's odd, to take care of someone else's baby. especially this man's. there's no woman in the house, as far as you can tell. the whole house is decorated very minimally, cozy and in shades of warm greens and cool blues and browns. there are no heeled boots by the door or pretty fur coats, and whenever you pass by his bedroom, only one side of his bed ever looks lived-in. there are no pictures on the walls, no makeup in the bathroom drawers, and no pads or tampons under the sink.

just a big, unfeeling man and his big, adorable baby.

but you think that your actions to get this big, unfeeling man to like you are starting to have the wrong kind of implications.

it starts with dinner. you start to make it, using the ingredients from his fridge to make stews and buttery mashed potatoes and roasted veggies. the image of you stirring a pot with his baby on your hip has not left him, and whenever you don't have some kind of meal cooking when he gets home, you answer to someone curt, annoyed, and cold, even to the touch.

then it's the decorating. you thought his couch was a little bare, so now there's a few throw blankets laying across the back of it. there's a vase of pretty tulips on the coffee table. you're growing herbs on the windowsill, little pots of thyme and rosemary and basil. you leave house shoes by the door now, and even when you're not there, he sees those fuzzy pink slippers in the foyer, and he can't help the way he chubs up just seeing them when you're not around.

you start to bring some extra changes of clothes. after the baby spit up on you more than once in a day, you bring a duffel bag with you once a week with extra changes of clothes. he snarls when he sees your clothes in one of his drawers; pretty black panties and matching bras, all laid out under your lounge wear right next to his fucking socks.

the toothbrush next to his in the bathroom. the multi-colored chapsticks in the drawers. tampons and pads organized in the cabinet, your moisturizer next to his shaving cream. he smacks his fist against the wall when he sees the finished package of your birth control in the trash because wot the fuck are y'doing taking those things when y'know i want another--

he can see you in the baby monitor. swaying in the dark of his son's room, the baby's head on your chest as you rock him softly. you're singing a little, a gentle hum to soothe him enough that his eyes start closing. he groans a little when he sees your eyes shut as you kiss his son on the forehead, cooing at him as you pat his little back and tell him to have sweet dreams.

you're making brownies when he comes home that night. his son is seated in his high chair, clapping his hands, and you're smiling at him and cooing in that baby voice you do as you take the warm brownies out of the oven. when you see him emerge from the darkness of his living room, you smile at him, taking off the oven mitts.

"hi, simon," you say softly, and his pupils dilate when you slip a hand over his son's head to soothe him. "i made some dessert, hope that's okay. thought you might wanna try my new recipe."

simon comes into the kitchen as you take his baby out of his high chair. you hoist him up against your hip, and when simon comes closer, you giggle as tilts his head to the side and stares down at you both. you tilt your head back a little, blinking up at him, and the flutter of your lashes is enough to have him rock hard in his cargos as his hands curl into frustrated fists at his sides.

"i'm gonna put him down for bed, it's a little late," you tell him. you hoist his son up a little higher on your hip, picking up his little chubby arm and waving up at simon. "say goodnight, daddy."

simon grins under his mask at the soft lilt of your voice. you try not to squeak when one of his big hands slides around your waist to hold you at your back, and he bends down to kiss his son's forehead through his mask.

"goodnight, my boy."

you try not to linger on the idea that he may have grabbed your ass as you walked away. no, his arms are just so long, they grazed you while you passed by him.

the baby always goes down nice and easy. one bottle later, with a full stomach, he's rubbing his little eyes and fussing in your arms as he tries to fall asleep. he's a mover, simon's little one--always grasping around with his arms and flopping onto his side in the bed. oftentimes, after a nap, he's facing the opposite direction and on the other end of the crib when you come to get him.

so you shouldn't be surprised when as he's falling asleep, his little grubby hands reach for you and pull.

your eyes widen when you hear the pop of buttons. you look down, gasping, when you see his son has grabbed onto the front of your blouse and pulled the first few buttons out. they clatter onto the floor in a mess, and you're not able to see where they go with it so dark in his room.

"oh, god!"

you try to be gentle as you set the baby down in his crib. he immediately sticks his thumb in his mouth with his head lolling to the side, and you try to pick up anything you step on as you hurry out of the room, trying to hold your shirt together.

it's useless. you're standing there in the hallway, hastily shutting the baby's room closed, tits out at eight in the evening.

"tha' why he so good ta ya, mama?"

your eyes bug out of your head when you see simon there. he's standing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes are focused on your poor open blouse. the bra you're wearing leaves nothing to the imagination--just mesh with underwire, and when simon comes closer, there's virtually nothing separating you when he reaches up with that gloved hand and cups one breast, thumb smoothing over your nipple before he tugs on it gently.

"wha--simon--"

"thinks y'r his mum, pretty tits out like tha'," simon hisses. "'f ya wanted it so bad, why didn't ya just say?"

"simon--"

he tsks, using both hands this time to grip your blouse by the edges and tug it down your arms. it falls around your elbows, and he takes the straps of your bra with it, until it's pooled around your waist and your tits fall free.

"fuckin' hell," he breathes, and your lips part gently as he hikes up his mask and spits on your nipples before sucking them into his mouth. "mmmph..."

you arch your back as he rips the rest of the buttons off with one smooth tug. your blouse falls, and your bra follows it, until you're in nothing but your skirt, backing up into the darkness of his bedroom as he kicks the door shut. you scramble to get him back on top of you when your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you're laying down--grabbing around his shoulders as you try to guide his mouth back to your breasts where he can suckle on them with that filthy mouth of his.

"knew it--" he rasps. "fuck, i knew it--"

your eyes squeeze shut when he ruts his hips against yours. your panties are ruined, slick wet and digging uncomfortably into your folds, but the scratch of simon's jeans have your back bowing at a hard angle, your fingers sliding between your bodies as you reach for his zipper. you gasp when you feel him under your hand, straining against denim, the girth of him tying your stomach in hard knots as you think about what it'll take to get you open enough for him to slip in.

"keepin' me fat," simon murmurs. "holdin' my baby like tha', wot did ya think was goin' ta happen, eh?"

"h-huh?"

"'m gonna make you fat, too, swee'eart," he says, smoothing his hand over your tummy. "saw those little pills in y'r bag. it won't take today, but we'll try again tomorrow, yeah?"

you're drooling as he fucks you. your hips are hiked up, your skirt flipped up as his thighs smack against your ass. you're not privy to the way the fat of you shakes every time he's buried to the hilt, but simon appreciates it, tongue out as he watches you push back against him to try and get yourself filled quicker. he traces your spine with his fingers, leaning over you as he watches your fingers dig into his dark sheets and grip for dear life as he gives it to you fast and deep. it's a mess of wet between you, and you know the bed underneath you will be soaked by the time he's done with you, but you can't think about that when the very thing you've been wanting since the day you met him is so close, so within reach.

you haven't taken a single one of those pills since the first week you met that fat, beautiful baby. maybe simon didn't take too close a look at the dated little pills in your bag and in the bin, the little calendar you used to mark rotting away in a forgotten pocket, gathering dust.

when simon comes, your mouth is filled with saliva, and you gurgle between barely-lucid giggles as your hips sink into the mattress. he's saying something, but you don't hear it. instead you reach down with your fingers and stuff them inside, trying to gather as much of his cum and keep it. when simon tries to cum in your mouth later, you nearly bite his dick off.

how dare he try and waste it?

[palarien]

sketched this out at jury duty actually

[bishopony]

first post of my new fusion series! This is Dizzy Spell, fusion of Twilight and Ditzy Doo c:

(she's currently pending purchase through instagram, but going forward these fusions will be available to adopt <3 )

[jeleynai]

Baby's first attempt at comic panelling |･ω･)

The cat's name is "Dove - like the soap brand"

[karmaphone]

what do you call this genre of movie

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

hey guys can you watch over these critters for me thanks

[egophiliac]

I just realized it'll take the eng server almost a year to reach the 3D Cheka T pose model :' ) we're at book 7 part 6, and we get a new main story update every 2 to 3 months..

Anyway, do you wanna share some fun, spoiler-free shenanigans that happened in jp's server.? Just to have some crumbs to lick off the table until we get our own sandwich (my heart is empty and my soul is crying)

spoiler-free is pretty hard, especially considering. the, uhhh, particular turn that things take directly after 6. (like, the fact that the other characters are showing up probably counts on its own?) and I do think that if you can avoid getting spoiled, most of it is definitely better as a surprise! some of the genuinely best Twst moments are waiting for you. :D

if I may, however, present one of my favorite little throwaway bits with absolutely no context:

[podcastwizard]

modern day moby dick but my white whale is a middle grade fantasy novel i read when i was like eleven and haven't been able to find again

[soyochii]

Grown adults but also Highschool bullies fr

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Actually, the bars aren't so bad anymore.

Think you can fix him? Read about his care instructions over at Tiger Tiger)

[temeyes]

johns

[gammaraydeath]

5 more minutes.....

the semester just started for me so that means back to waking up early. ;w;

[dramatic-dolphin]

i'll be honest the "man vs bear" thing is so fucking funny like the only way you've never ran into a man in a forest is if you've never been in a forest. when i'm in a forest and i run into a man (happened so far every time i've been hiking in a forest) what happens is i say "good morning" and he says "good morning" and then we continue on our way. on the other hand if i ran into a bear in the forest i would shit myself.

[zephyrchama]

It was late evening when your DDD started ringing. An unusual time for someone to call unless they were either drunk or in mortal peril. This occasion happened to be the latter.

Karasu's caller ID flashed a photo of Luke across the screen after the first ring. The angel was always early to bed and early to rise and never called without good reason, so you scrambled to answer, moving so fast that your finger slipped and you initially missed the right button.

"Hello?" you said. It took a moment for the call to connect.

"Hi... Sorry, umm, is now a good time?"

Luke sounded close to tears. He was trying to keep himself composed for your sake, but the distressed warble in his voice betrayed him. By the sound of things, he wasn't in his bedroom. He wasn't even in the living room or kitchen of Purgatory Hall. It was somewhere small, where his voice echoed off the walls.

"Luke, are you okay? Where are you?"

You recognized the sound of splashing water when he sniffled just before responding, "I'm in the bath."

It was an odd answer, but at least he was somewhere safe. So, why was he crying?

"Did Solomon feed you anything weird?"

"No, that's not it." Luke took a deep breath and winced. The sounds of agitated water accompanied his explanation. "You see... Simeon got a new shampoo that smells like cloudberries, and I really wanted to try some. Just a little bit, honest! But it came out of the bottle really fast, and it fell into my eyes." The crying began in earnest. "It really hurts and now I can't get it out of my eyes and Simeon's going to find out I used his shampoo without asking."

You felt slightly thankful that Solomon wasn't using the little angel as his food taster, but his small sobs over such a small matter made your heart ache.

"I'm going blind as punishment for stealing Simeon's shampoo," he confessed.

"Hey! Hey, no you're not! It's going to be okay!" you assured him. "You're not going to go blind. Listen. Turn on the faucet and try to splash some clean water in your eyes. Also, keep crying."

The sound of a running faucet could be heard through the phone. "Why? Will my tears prove that I'm repenting and weaken the punishment?"

"It'll... uh, yeah? Yeah, sure. It will also rinse the shampoo out of your eye so they stop stinging, but it'll do that, too."

There was a soft thud as Luke set his DDD down, followed by several minutes of loud splashing noises and weeping. He was having a tough time. You tried to be encouraging, unsure if he could hear you or not, by chiming in with the occasional "you're doing great!" and "hang in there!"

The tears came to a stop and Luke turned the faucet off. There was a beat of silence, followed by him exclaiming from afar, "it worked!"

He picked the phone back up. "It worked! I can see again! It doesn't hurt as much! Thank you! I'm so glad I called." The boy sounded like he was crying again, this time in relief. He had his usual cheery demeanor back.

"Everything OK now?"

"Yeah! I really owe you. I have to go tell Simeon what I did now, but I'll properly thank you tomorrow at school."

You wondered what sort of treats he would present. A drain popped open and you heard the water swirling away. Your muscles were still tense from concern, but the emergency had been swiftly dealt with.

"Glad I could help. Be sure to get lots of sleep, okay? You need to rest your eyes."

You could tell Luke was nodding even if you couldn't see him. "Got it!"

"Good night, Luke."

"Good night!"

[bressynonym]

warming up