#tummy ficlets

[taste-thewaste]

six sentence sunday 11.3.24

omg hi everybody!! thanks so much for the tags @onthewaytosomewhere @sophie1973 @tailsbeth-writes and @caterpills!

i make my triumphant return with not just six sentences, but an entire Henry's tummy ficlet!

“Alex. These are divine.”  “Gracias, mi amor.” The kiss that Alex delivers to Henry’s lips tastes lightly of cinnamon and sugar, and Henry devours it. He’s been perched on the kitchen island chair all afternoon, watching as Alex bakes. He’d woken up that day and proudly proclaimed to Henry that he was going to bakes his abuela’s hojarascas.  “What are those, love?” Henry had asked, and Alex explained about the light cinnamon sugar-dusted shortbread cookies that his abuela would make every time she visited, or every time he and June crowded her kitchen. He talked about the smells and sounds of baking with his family, and Henry had thought that he couldn’t love Alex any more than at that moment. 

read on ao3

tagging: @england-would-fall @lfg1986-2 @eusuntgratie @henrysfox @bigassbowlingballhead

@basil-bird @stratocumulusperlucidus @thighzp @insecuregodcomplex @firstprincehornyramblings

@catdadacd + anyone else who wants to play!

[daisyofwaterdeep]

i have a NSFW Gale/Reader thought

hear me out on this one:

You have trouble falling asleep and tend to pick up potions of sleep when you can. A few sips around bedtime knocks you out and helps you be well rested in the morning. You recently finished off a bottle so when you and the gang are looting some crates, you pocket a fresh potion of the creamy lilac concoction.

Fast forward to that night. You stayed up a bit later than you intended, looking over some new scrolls and books you'd picked up that day, and decide you need a little sleep aid. You take a swig of your new potion and settle down in your tent for bed. But sleep doesn't take you. Instead, your breasts start aching. For a few moments you think that maybe your period is coming earlier than thought, but the ache keeps growing deeper, and when you go to feel your tits, you notice that they feel uncomfortably tight...full. And as you squeeze them, you feel dampness against your palms.

Confused, scared, and fighting the first inklings of panic, you grab the potion and stumble out of your tent. Luckily, you're not the only night owl and can see the warm glow of a candle from Gale's tent.

You announce your presence and he welcomes you inside, closing a book of his own and sitting up as you duck into his tent and close the flap for privacy. His pleasant smile immedately falls as he sees your worried face.

You quickly explain about the potion, how it might have been contaminated or perhaps spoiled. Gale takes the bottle and swirls the contents before uncorking it and giving it a sniff. He frowns.

"It uses some similar ingredients to a potion of sleep, so it's viscosity and smell are quite similar...but I believe I know what this is." He looks at you evenly before asking, "Did you take it?"

You nod, and Gale sighs from his nose.

"What sort of symptoms are you experiencing?"

It's a bit embarassing to admit, but you tell him, and he sighs again. You can see that he's not happy with the development and you quickly apologize for the hassle. His face changes then and he waves his hands in front of himself.

"No, no, it's not you, dear. It was an easy mistake to make. It's just that...How do I put this."

He takes in a deep breath and motions for you to sit next to him. You do, and he continues speaking, his voice slow and careful.

"That potion is used for mothers who are having troubles... shall we say, producing. It stimulates the breast tissue and...well, I'm sure you've realized."

Oh gods. You look down at your night shirt, seeing the small wet spots around your nipples. You look back at Gale (just as he looks away--it seems he was staring at your chest as well) and you ask what you should do.

Gale clears his throat. "Massaging the area will help, but to extract everything...you wouldn't happen to know a hungry baby, would you?"

You know he's trying to crack a silly joke, but it only makes tears spring to your eyes. Gale flounders, his hands fluttering around like scared birds before one lands on your thigh.

"Don't despair, dear. I'll...I know it may be a tad unorthodox, but if you'll let me..."

You tell him you don't care what he does, as long as it fixes your problem. You see Gale's jaw flex. He seems to be calculating something in his head before he nods curtly.

"I'll take care of it, don't you worry. Here, lay down for me."

He quickly grabs some pillows and arranges them comfortably on the ground and you lean back, the pillows propping you up in a half-lounging position.

He scoots close to you, his hands going to the buttons of your shirt before he looks up at you with those big brown eyes, silently asking your permission. You can feel your cheeks flush as you nod. He begins unfastening the buttons from the bottom, and with shaking hands, you start from the top, meeting him in the middle. Your shirt falls open, and your breasts are on full display in the candlelight, visibly tight and full, your nipples hard and wet with smeared milk.

"Do they hurt?" He asks, voice a hush in the night air.

You nod, fighting the urge to close your shirt as Gale stares.

"I won't massage them just yet, then. We need to extract some of the, erm, fluid first." He wettens his bottom lip and scoots a bit closer to you. "Do you understand what I need to do?"

It seems that he's just as nervous about this as you are-- you know what he's getting at, but neither of you seem brave enough to say it out loud. Instead, you nod your head and tell him to do whatever he needs to.

He nods and starts lowering his head hesitantly. "I know it's going to feel odd, but it's necessary."

You return the nod and fight back a shiver as you feel the warmth of his breath against your nipple. You look away just as his lips meet the swollen bud and bite your lip to stop any involuntary noises from leaving you. The feeling of his hot lips closing around your nipple and then the velvet wetness of his tongue cupping around it has heat flooding your stomach and cheeks.

He starts with a light suction, your nipple gently pulled into his mouth. You can feel the milk leaving you as he begins suckling, hot spurts that provide an almost instant relief in your aching breast.

You let out a soft sigh and Gale releases your nipple and looks up at you, his cheeks rosy and eyes darker than usual.

"You alright?"

You apologize and ensure him it's fine, telling him that it feels surprisingly good before realizing what you said and stumbling over your words. You flounder and clarify that the relief of the pressure feels good, and he nods his head quickly.

"I knew exactly what you meant." He adjusts himself on the ground, "I'm relieved to hear that it's working...we'll keep going then."

But before he dips back down, you stop him. You realize that he hasn't spat out what he's sucked from you and ask if you all should grab a bowl or something so that he doesn't have to swallow.

"I don't mind," He says, "It's less cumbersome this way." He stutters for a moment before adding, "U-unless it makes you uncomfortable, of course. I'd be happy to--"

You cut him off and tell him it's fine like this. And then, shyly, you ask him what it tastes like.

"It's...sweet. But not overly so." He gestures to your breast, where a pearly drop dangles from the tip of your nipple. "Try it for yourself."

So you do. You swipe the drop onto your finger and suck it into your mouth, surprised at the sweetness, even if that's how Gale had described it. When you look back at Gale, you see a curious heat in his eyes that he quickly masks before bringing his head down once more.

This time, you watch as he latches onto your nipple. The peek of his tongue as he takes it into his mouth makes you clench involuntarily. And then comes that relief again, that lessening of pressure that has you sighing and leaning your head back.

It's almost hypnotic. The feeling of his lips suckling at you, the press of his tongue against your sore nipple, the pain that slowly ebbs away and is quickly being replaced by guilty arousal. You close your eyes and sigh again, hand coming to the back of his head without thinking.

Your eyes fly open and you quickly apologize again. Gale pulls off of your nipple but doesn't lean up, his words breathed hotly against your sensitive breast.

"No need to apologize...please, get comfortable."

You tell him that he should get comfortable too-- you don't know how long this is going to take, and seeing him leaning forward on his knees is making your own want to ache in sympathy. He laughs softly, sheepishly.

"I do admit, it's not entirely comfortable. In that case..."

He moves slowly, carefully between your legs, looking up at you for permission that you grant with an encouraging nod.

Gale lays himself gingerly on top of you, his face level with your breasts. It's how lovers would cuddle, and it brings your heart to your throat.

"There, that's much better," Gale's voice has a slight tremble as he hovers over your untouched breast, "Is it comfortable for you as well?"

You tell him it is.

"Alright..." He takes his hand and gently cups the weight of your breast, "Let's work on this one a bit, shall we?"

He begins sucking at your other nipple, just as tender as the first one. But this time, with him laying against you and your hand returning to his hair, you find yourself letting out a moan despite yourself.

And this time, he doesn't pull away to ask if you're okay--The sound was purely from pleasure, and he seems to know it. Instead, he responds with a slightly stronger suck, his eyes closed and his long lashes on his cheeks. You try not to squirm, the heat between your legs growing to a point that you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy. You wonder if he can feel the thump of it against his stomach.

You don't know how long it goes on. The gentle pull of his mouth on you, the feeling of his warm breaths against your skin, his soft hair beneath your fingers...it's all so decadently pleasurable and you lose yourself in the feeling.

He swaps between your breasts, his tongue laving at your nipple before taking it into his mouth. The feeling of it makes you jolt and shudder and moan. His hand continues cupping your other breast, gently kneading it in time with each suckle. You feel a warm trickle of milk from your free nipple and watch as it rolls down the swell of your tit before meeting his hand. He unlatches himself and goes to that breast instead, licking the cooling trail up your skin before taking your nipple once again.

His tongue is becoming greedier with each of your noises, licking your areola, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin and his nose pressing into the plushness of your breast. You hold his head firmer against you, legs closing around his body as you fight to not grind against him.

He's fully groping you now, both hands gently squeezing your breasts as his hungry mouth takes turns lavishing both nipples with his attention. His eyes are still closed and his brow is furrowed as he works, panting for air between each switch but never allowing himself to fully catch his breath.

You can feel the flow of your milk drying up. The ache in your breasts has mercifully subsided, leaving them feeling tender and sensitive. But Gale doesn't seem ready to stop-- he sucks harder at them, coaxing out each drop against his tongue.

So you don't stop him. You lean back against the pillows and run your hand over his back, through his hair, letting him nurse from you to his content. And as you watch him, you realize with a cold jolt that he's rutting himself against the ground. It's subtle, almost completely missable, but you can see the way his ass flexes as his toes dig into the ground for purchase.

The revelation finally breaks your control. You moan his name and raise your hips against him, spreading your legs as his teeth dig into your skin.

It's as if he had been waiting for this moment. He's sliding up your body immediately, his hot, panted breaths against your face sweet with your milk.

"Gods, I'm--"

Whatever he's going to say is lost as he takes your mouth, that skilled tongue that has been teasing your nipples all this time now pushing past your lips, that sweetness intensified as he kisses you desperately. His body slots perfectly against yours, his hard cock pressing against your pussy and grinding into it, starved for friction. Even through both sets of your clothes you can feel his member pulsing, and as he dry fucks you he groans into your mouth, his hands hungrily feeling over your body, your face, your breasts.

You cry out as the orgasm that has been building all this time finally breaks within you, and you cling to him as you rut madly against him. Your own passionate ministrations make Gale still, and it isn't until you hear his own throaty groan that you understand why.

Your arched back deflates back into the pillows, and Gale's body follows, as if not wanting to be apart from you. You can feel the twitching of his cock still buried between your legs, uneven jumps and shudders that have him gasping and pulling out of the kiss.

"Gods, I'm...I'm so sorry..." He pants, eyes fluttering open and worry knitting his brow. "That was...inappropriate, to say the least."

You hold the side of his face and reassure him that it's alright. And, you add with a smile, his unorthodox methods have managed to do what you sought to accomplish in the first place.

"I must say, I'm rather tired myself." Gale shares your smile, "Why don't you spend the night, in that case? Besides, it's best for me to be nearby, in case you need more...extracting."

You happily oblige.

[eros-ghoulette]

Comments

Humans can be twats and Omega is there to comfort Aether. (Fatphobic stuff mentioned)

Character: Aether, Omega Word count: 833

It was too late to be awake. The moon threw its light through the window, making the kitchen glow in the dark, and Aether didn’t bother to turn the light on. He was wearing boxers and - unlike him - an oversized sweater.

The quint rummaged through the cabinet filled with snacks and finally settled on a half-full bag of chips. He was hungry, his stomach grumbling for hours now, and it had got more and more unbearable with every passing minute. So he finally got up and decided to get himself something to eat. Aether regretted not eating lunch and barely anything at dinner, and he let out a satisfied groan as he ate the first chip while sitting down at the table.

He looked up when he heard steps and blinked against the light as it was turned on. In the doorway stood Omega, eyes tired and still in his day's clothing; he was coming straight out of the infirmary.

“Hey,” the older said, walking over to the fridge and getting himself a bottle of juice. “Why are you still awake?”

Aether shrugged weakly; he wasn’t exactly in the mood for a conversation. Omega leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the other’s back with a serious expression. He could smell the distress clearly.

“Do you want me to make you something proper to eat?” the taller asked then. Of course, he had noticed how Aether hadn’t really eaten today. “There’s still some dinner left.”

Aether tensed a bit, swallowing what was in his mouth, his gaze unfocused on the table.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he answered, hoping to not sound as restrained as he felt.

He heard Omega shuffle and then felt a big hand on his shoulder. Aether tensed, still not turning around.

“Can you stand up for a second?”

The question was not exactly unexpected, but Aether still let out a sigh. Why couldn’t Omega just leave him alone? He stood up nonetheless, hands pulling at the hem of his sweater.

“Come here.”

Aether walked over, biting the inside of his cheek. Suddenly, he was pulled in by the waist and lifted, ending up on the counter, Omega between his legs, hands on his sides, holding the love handles there.

“So, what’s wrong, hmm?”

The younger quint looked down and suppressed the urge to move, uncomfortable with the touch. But Omega understood nonetheless and put his hands on the counter.

“Aeth?” The voice was quiet but empathetic; maybe even a bit worried. It was unusual for Aether to be like this.

“I…,” he shrugged. “I know I’m fat, but I- It’s- Why are people so mean?”

He looked at Omega now, still unable to hold eye contact. Aether knew that not everyone liked Ghost, that there would always be hate towards any band, but the comments he had found were simply rude; and maybe true, he had no idea anymore.

Omega tilted his head to the side, watching the other’s face closely. The hurt he saw went straight to his heart. He knew about comments like that, knew exactly what Aether meant and how much they could hurt. But he also knew that they weren’t true, that people who commented such stuff were pathetic humans, deeply unsatisfied with their own lives.

“So that’s why you haven’t really eaten today?” he asked, understanding. It earned him a nod.

“There’s nothing wrong with fat, Aeth, you know that,” Omega stated then, his hands going to the love handles again. “But I know that comments can hurt really much.”

The older petted his own tummy with a smirk, hoping to lift Aether’s mood a bit.

“I know that having more on the ribs can be hard, Aeth. I know how mean humans are, but there are also nice humans, right?”

The younger looked him in the eyes now, tears swimming in his. He was tired and hungry and even a bit overwhelmed. The tears came naturally, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Omega put both hands on Aether’s cheeks now, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“You are beautiful,” he muttered. “We love you, Aeth. We wouldn’t want you any different.”

He pinched the other’s belly.

“Look at that cute belly and be proud of it, yeah? Remember how thin you were when Terzo summoned you… It just shows that you are happy and healthy and loved here.”

Omega gave him a smile, and he couldn’t resist the urge to smile back a bit. The tear that slipped down his cheek was wiped off by the other’s thumb. The younger quint pulled Omega close, arms wrapping around his waist, face shoved into his chest.

“Now come, you eat something that will actually feed you up, and then we’ll go to my room and get some sleep. And I’ve got a free day tomorrow, so how about I show you how much I love that belly of yours then, big boy?”

At that point, the grin on Aether’s face grew larger. ____________

It's time to say that as a fat person, the stuff i got to hear since i was like 10 years old is simply the dumbest shit ever and hurts really much. And those comments were the reason for my second panic attack ever and made by idiotic humans that deserve to be punched in the face.

gonna tag you here @miss-multi45 and my favourite rat @aweisz because they wanted Aether/Omega

[1heartfanfics]

If you're still taking requests, I love how you write Steve and Bucky. Could I get Steve with an upset stomach that wakes him up with soft protective Bucky? You are amazing!

The clock reads 4:02 when Steve wakes up. He's still half asleep and isn't really sure why he's woken up. So he closes his eyes to hopefully get a few more hours before he needs to be up.

He rolls over onto his stomach to try and get comfortable, but quickly realizes what woke him up in the first place. His stomach groans in protest to the pressure being put on it, feeling full and tight. Steve rolls back onto his side, bringing a hand up to rest on his stomach. It's bloated out against the waistband of his boxers. He presses a hand into his abdomen, feeling full of air and hoping to relieve some pressure, but instead it only makes him feel vaguely nauseous.

Stifling a groan to avoid waking Bucky up, he pushes himself up to sit, leaning back against the wall with a protective hand resting over his upset stomach. He rubs his hand gently back and forth, hoping to sooth the churning.

"Stevie?" Bucky's voice rings out a moment later, voice deep with sleep.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Steve sighs.

"You didn't. What's wrong?" Bucky asks, forcing himself awake. He moves to sit up next to Steve.

"I'm fine Buck, go back to sleep," Steve shakes his head, waving him off.

"No, you're not. Just talk to me," Bucky presses. Steve doesn't have to answer though, because as Bucky wakes up more he notices Steve's hand resting on his stomach and the way his lips are pressed tightly together. "Stomach bothering you?" he asks, although he already knows the answer.

Steve sighs, shrugs. No use lying about it now, he supposes. "Yeah, woke me up," he shrugs again.

"You feeling queasy?" Bucky asks, even though he knows the answer to that too.

"Kinda," Steve admits, noticeably keeping his answers short.

"Well c'mere then doll," Bucky says, patting the space between his legs.

Steve stiffly scoots himself over to rest in between Bucky's legs, leaned back against his chest. Bucky wraps his arm around Steve's waist to rest a hand on his stomach, wincing as he feels how bloated he is.

"Buck-" Steve starts to protest.

"Shh, let me," Bucky cuts him off, starting to rub gentle circles over Steve's belly with his warm hand.

Steve goes quiet, sinking further into Bucky's embrace. Buck had always had magic hands. His stomach was starting to calm slightly already.

"Feeling any better?" Bucky asks a few minutes later.

"Hmm, yeah some," Steve hums, slowly being lulled back to sleep.

"Go back to sleep darling, I got ya," Bucky says softly, pressing a kiss into Steve's hair. So Steve lets himself drift back to sleep in Bucky's arms, feeling warm and loved.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

Darling one <3 my prompt word is "tummy ache" which is alarmingly fitting right now.

hope this helps, boo!

.

It's early, too early for daylight.

Derek opens his other eye and assesses the situation: puffs of air on the back of his neck, too abrupt for normal breathing. 

Beside him, Stiles doesn't so much shift as jerks a little, as if he's trying not to move any more than that small amount. 

"Hey, you doing okay?" Derek whispers.

Beacon Hills sheriff might have an inkling that Derek has been climbing though Stiles's perpetually open window for the past two years or so—in the daytime. But Derek is positive he doesn't know about the sleeping-with-his-only-son part that has been happening for the last few months. Because Derek is still alive.

So. Whispering it is.

Silence.

Then a pitiful, drawn out groan. 

"Stiles?" 

More groans. Then a croaked, "I'm dying."

Derek is on Stiles in a millisecond. "What is it? What's wrong? Stiles? What's—" and his hands are flying over every inch of the kid. 

"Shit, Der, I'm not really dying," Stiles whispers back, batting Derek away. 

Derek wouldn't need to be looking at Stiles to know the face he's pulling.

"Ugh, feels like it though. My tummy hurts so fucking bad right now. I can't get comfy, I can't get back to sleep and I hate everything and everyone and I would honestly be perfectly okay with passing over to the other side, now. Like. RIP me. Swear to God, Der, the afterlife never sounded so good." 

Derek rolls his eyes. His very human boyfriend is so very fucking dramatic. 

Boyfriend.

Thinking about him and Stiles like that still makes Derek's stomach flip like he's fourteen again. Even when he's smooshed up right next to him in bed. He wonders if that will ever change and immediately doesn't think it will. 

Derek peers down through the gloom at a pained looking Stiles, then instinctively flicks his eyes to the numbers glowing a dim blue on Stiles's alarm clock. 

4:32

Stiles is about to say something but Derek quickly silences him with a hand placed across his mouth, essentially gagging him. 

Just when Stiles looks as if might sink his teeth into Derek's fingers, there's an ominous creak on the landing, and they both simultaneously stop breathing. 

Thud. Trickle. Drip, drip, drip. Flush. Running water. Creak. 

The town's sheriff is nothing if not habitual.

After another moment, Derek removes his hand but puts a finger to Stiles's lips to tell him to stay quiet. Then he strokes Stiles's cheekbone as he shifts a bit in the bed, until he can place his other hand gently on Stiles abdomen.

Derek now focuses all of his thoughts and senses on Stiles, until there's only Stiles, everything Stiles is. Until he's aware of Stiles's pain. Until he is Stiles's pain. Derek's face twists a little with what is a really nasty, sharp feeling but looks up to thankfully see Stiles's features smoothing out as the hurt drains from his body. 

"Dude," Stiles whispers, before his eyes widen and he's slapping his own hand over his mouth—his dad could still be awake. 

Derek un-grits his teeth and cracks his neck, removing his touch from Stiles and flexing his hand a few times as the pain in his arm starts to fizzle away. 

Better? Derek asks silently with raised brows. 

Stiles grins so big it makes Derek's heart thump harder in his chest. 

Dude! Best. Boyfriend. Ever! Stiles mouths back, in such an exaggerated manner Derek's pretty sure even a person who speaks no English could tell what he said. 

Given the current hushed situation, Derek supposes he'll let the dreaded 'dude' slide.

(Realising for the first time that he's completely head-over-heels in love with this adorable idiot has absolutely nothing at all to do with it).

[miasmaghoul]

Hello my love! It's only 11 and it's already been the worst day imaginable....could I possibly ask for aether tummy worship. Could be slutty could be fluffy just our big boy being absolutely worshiped and adored by a ghoul of your choice.

Much love btw/gen

im sorry to hear that! i also had a shit day, and i know you and i are not alone.

as such - stoned, grossly sappy aeth/dew makeouts and tummy time, coming right up!

Aether isn't sure how he got this lucky.

That's the word for it, he thinks. The word to explain the simple joy of being right here, right now. Laying by the lake in his still-damp swim trunks, facing the midnight sky. Cool grass against his back and a familiar body pressed to his side. The stars sparkle, and maybe it's the weed, but Aether swears he can hear the heartbeat of the universe. He sighs, deeply contented.

"What're you thinking about?"

Dew's words are soft, murmured into his shoulder. The little ghoul has one leg hooked over Aether's thigh and an arm resting on his stomach, lithe fingers fiddling idly with his chest hair. Aether runs his knuckles down the length of Dew's spine, a soothing motion for the both of them.

"Stars," Aether says simply, gesturing vaguely upwards with the hand holding the smoldering end of their shared joint. His arm feels delightfully heavy. Dew hums, scratching gently at his chest.

"What about 'em?"

"They're fascinating," Aether replies, sluggish gaze bouncing between constellations. "Humans put so much stock in them. They have for centuries. Some people base their whole lives on those stars, Dew."

"'s that so?" Dew nuzzles closer, the motion accompanied by a warm summer breeze that rustles the clover and wildflowers surrounding them. The little ghoul always so tactile like this, loose and pliant and utterly relaxed. The softest version of himself. Aether silently treasures every moment of it. He gives a hum, playing with a lock of damp silver hair stuck to Dew's back.

"Horoscopes and birth charts and planetary alignments." Aether continues, tilting his head. "Some people think the stars know everything. Something good'll happen and they'll say it was because 'the stars aligned'." The sky is clear, no light pollution for miles, and Aether traces the shimmering arm of the milky way with heavy eyes. "I don't know about all that, but they're a sight like this. Have you ever really looked at them?"

Dew's hand on his chest feels so nice. Aether sighs, scratching at the little ghoul's scalp and relishing the pleased chirp it brings. Dew shifts slightly, just enough to press a kiss to his chest.

"Why would I when I can look at you?"

Aether goes still, halfway to bringing the joint to his mouth for one last pull. His hand hovers over his chest and Dew takes it upon himself to grab his wrist, bringing the twisted end to his own lips instead. Aether tips his head to watch Dew's luxurious inhale, dazed.

"What?"

Dew doesn't answer as he releases Aether's hand, sitting up enough to lean on an elbow. Their legs are still intertwined, Dew absentmindedly dragging the arch of his foot over Aether's calf. He can see Dew's face now, pale skin shimmering in the moonlight, cerulean eyes shining. Red rimmed and glassy, but so obviously fond. Aether is helpless but to lean into his magnetic pull.

The kiss is slow and lazy, intoxicating in more ways that one. Dew feeds him the sweet, herbal smoke, humming happily as their tongues drag against one another The hand on Aether's chest drifts a little further south, caressing warm skin. Dew pulls back first, purring deep in his chest. Aether's eyes feel fuzzy, his head filled with static. Dew shifts against him again, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw.

"Why would I wanna look at a buncha sparkly shit in the sky," he says, trailing achingly soft kisses down Aether's throat, "when you're right here?" Aether's laughs through his nose, a soft sound.

"Dew-"

"What?" he interrupts, squeezing Aether's leg with his own. "You gonna tell a guy he can't have preferences?" Dew's fingers trail down the side of his belly, a ticklish feeling that has Aether biting his lip. He shakes his head, skin electric every place they meet.

"They're just really pretty," he mumbles, watching the way Dew's hair shines in the moonlight.

"So are you." Dew shoots him a stoned little smile, eyes crinkled at the corners, and fuck if Aether's heart doesn't skip against his ribs. "Lay back," the little ghoul lilts, pushing himself up, "just relax. Look at your stars while I look at mine."

Aether doesn't know how Dew manages to move so fluidly when he's so high he can't feel his own ass, but then that slight body is knelt between his legs and he finds he doesn't much care. Aether lets his head thud back against the soft earth, feeling himself blush as Dew's hands come to rest on his thighs.

"So pretty," he slurs, fingers coasting up past Aether's trunks to press into the soft roll at his waistband. Aether sighs as those slender fingers slide over his stomach and up to his chest, giving a playful squeeze. His unfocused eyes are back on the sky, pinpricks of light in the blackness melting into one another in his faded state.

Dew's hands are exploratory but gentle, meandering over every inch of his torso. Squeezing his shoulders, massaging his chest, dimpling his belly. That seems to be the main focus of his attention tonight. Aether feels rather like he's being pawed at by an overly affectionate cat. The thought conjures an image of Dewdrop with furry little ears that has Aether giggling immediately. Dew doesn't ask why and he's glad for it.

He can't take his eyes off the sky, but every other part of his addled mind is focused on the way the little ghoul touches him. There's nothing lascivious to it, nothing demanding. Touching for the sake of touching. It's soothing, despite how bony Dew's fingers are where they knead his soft flesh.

"I like this," the little ghoul purrs, not at all helping the catlike imagery in Aether's mind. "This part of you. I mean, I like every part of you," Dew clarifies, "even your one weird toe." Aether barks out a laugh at that, and Dew's purr kicks up a notch as his belly jiggles with it. "But this part is special."

Aether lets out a surprised sound when Dew buries his face in his stomach. He can't not lift his head and take a peek; Dew's cheek is pressed just above his bellybutton, the little ghoul nuzzling into his belly hair. Those elegant hands rest at his sides, stroking over his love handles. He wants to sweep Dew's hair back to see more of his beautiful face, but his arms refuse to move. Instead,

"Special?" Dew nods against him, kissing just beside his bellybutton. "It's just a stomach," Aether chuckles, sheepish. Dew clearly disagrees though, nipping at tender skin.

"Is not," he argues, peering up at Aether with unabashed adoration in his eyes. "It's your stomach. And that makes it special."

Aside from a very warm feeling in his chest, Aether has no response to that. He can only watch as Dew worships his belly - there really is no other word for the reverent way he touches it, kisses it. Even the way he sinks his teeth into the extra soft spot just below his bellybutton feels holy. Dew heaves a happy sigh a few minutes later, resting his chin on Aether's stomach and offering a serene smile. One that Aether easily returns.

Dew surges up to catch him in a deep kiss, just for a few moments. It's sweet and lush, unhurried but broken quickly. Dew kisses the tip of his nose before scooting down to adjust his position, shimmying until he's laid out on his front between strong thighs. He rests his head on the center of Aether's belly, snaking his arms around Aether's waist to hold him close. Once he's settled, Aether lets his head fall back again, smiling wide at the endless night stretched out above them.

At long last, Aether makes his arm work. He brings a heavy hand to rest on Dew's head, dragging gentle fingers through his hair. They're both purring now, a pair of complimentary rumbles joining the summertime chirp of crickets and the occasional soft breeze. He can't recall the last time he felt so utterly, perfectly at peace.

At length, Dew pipes up again, voice thick with bliss and the beginnings of sleep.

"Aeth?"

Aether lifts his head again, blinking slowly.

"Yeah?"

"Will you tell me about the stars?"

Something warm and full washes over him, and Aether brings one of his legs up to lay across Dew's lower back. The little ghoul makes a happy little sound, snuggling closer, and Aether prays to the Unholy Father that he never forgets this exact moment. He settles back into the grass once again.

"Of course, baby boy," he breathes, stunned, "whatever you want."

It takes no time at all for Dew to drift off to the sound of his voice, and Aether is right behind him. Comforted by a familiar body and the blanket of stars above.

He thinks lucky is definitely the right word.

[tailsbeth-writes]

heyr taylor happy friday luv

here's my ficlet prompt this week

3. I’m a blessing of a body to love on (I’m Not Here To Make Friends - Sam Smith) for a little bit of southern philanthropy(liam/pez) plz but as always if firstprince works better i'm good with that 💚

I didn't have many requests this week so you got an extra long ficlet with both pairings you lucky thang 😘 Find this on Ao3 here!

Henry is staring at his wardrobe and wants to scream. He needs to get ready for a fundraiser, one that is a bit more wild (only Percy could think of a cirque du so-gay theme) and part of him misses the usual stuffy suit and tie dress code. They were safe, flattering no matter what.

Alex is in the bathroom singing along to Sam Smith, no doubt looking more and more handsome by the second. Henry discovered he was putting on eyeliner for the party and practically melted on the spot. Who knew those eyes could look more beautiful?

‘Did you decide on your outfit baby?’ Alex calls from the bathroom. Henry scrunches his face up. He backs up to the bed and lets himself fall back.

‘Hen, you okay?’

Henry gazes up to see Alex in the doorway, his torso is still glinting from the shower and he's only wearing boxers. God, he's beautiful. He lays his head back and sighs.

‘This might sound odd but I'm missing my grey ties and suits.’

There's a thud next to Henry, he turns his head to see Alex. Henry can't help but stare at his lined eyes, there's a slight glitter in the liner that catches the light.

‘I thought we had brought you around to colour, I know for a fact Percy made sure of it.’

Henry looks over at the wardrobe behind Alex and looks down at his body. The t-shirt he's wearing is certainly tighter than 6 months earlier. Relationship weight is what June called it. A healthy thing apparently, but Henry wasn't so sure.

Alex rolls on to his side and caresses Henry’s cheek, Henry’s eyes flutter shit a moment.

‘Hen, talk to me. You're safe here.’

‘Have you really not noticed?’

Alex’s thumb strokes over Henry's cheekbones, he furrows his brow.

‘Noticed what, baby?’

‘That your boyfriend has become chubby as of late.’ Henry prods his tummy. Alex’s eyes look down his torso and back up to Henry’s face. He lunges at Henry’s lips, biting the plush skin a little before backing off.

‘My boyfriend is hot as fuck. And maybe I think the tummy is cute…’

Henry blinks several times. Alex is grinning down at him and it's confusing and arousing.

‘Okay, now you've lost me.’

Alex strokes down Henry's arm.

‘You’re happy here. I love seeing how you get a kick out of doing the laundry or making your beloved quiches. You're not stressed or thinking about what you're doing and how it affects the crown.’

Henry nods and Alex’s hand moves to his tummy. Henry lets out a tiny gasp.

‘This gorgeous little tummy shows how comfortable you are. And I love that I get to see you this way.’

Alex’s hand crawls under Henry's t-shirt as he leans in close, leaving a kiss on his forehead.

‘I love that I get to make love to this beautiful, happy body of yours.’

He kisses Henry’s cheeks, behind his ears and down his jaw. Henry's skin is tingling.

‘Fuck, Wales, you're so sexy.’ Alex whispers.

‘Alex, darling… we need to-’

‘The party can fucking wait.’ Alex’s voice is deep and rich and Henry wants to surrender to it. Alex finally rolls over and straddles Henry. Their lips can't get to each other quick enough. Alex is rocking his hips, Henry sits up a little so Alex can pull off his t-shirt. Alex smiles as his fingers make their way over Henry's skin, there's a blush inching down his chest.

‘This body is a blessing, I'm so fucking lucky you chose me Henry.’

Henry pulls Alex close, his hand scrambling to intertwine with Alex's hair.

‘I love you so much Alex.’ He kisses with all the love he can possibly fathom. When they finally break for oxygen, Alex is beaming at Henry and Henry giggles.

‘I love you too baby, but if I don't get to fuck you in the next five minutes I might explode.’

‘But the pa-’

Alex puts a hand over Henry’s mouth.

‘Percy will understand. Now go lie on the pillows like a good little prince so I can show you how much I love this incredible body of yours.’’

And how is Henry to refuse that?

‘They were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago…’ Liam is tapping his foot on the floor nervously. His arms are crossed over his chest, covering the skin that is on show underneath his red ringmaster's jacket. He felt fucking ridiculous back in his hotel room but now he's here, he’s likely got the least skin on show.

‘Don’t you worry your gorgeous little head about it.’ Percy kisses his forehead lightly, not wanting to transfer his red lipstick. Liam rolls his eyes as Percy backs off.

‘Hey, you alright? Hang on…’

Percy puts his arm around Liam's shoulders and pulls him away from the bar and down a quiet hallway. The lighting feels much harsher than in the hall, Liam can see the slightest smudge under Percy's eyes.

‘Talk to me, I know a catty Liam when I see one.’

Liam huffs and starts fiddling with fringe on Percy's corset. He decided to embrace the sideshow freak title, donning a glittery beard, corset and bloomers.

‘I love how flamboyant you are. But sometimes, I feel a bit out of my depth. Alex and Henry are my life boat at these parties.’

Percy takes Liam's hands from the fringe and places a kiss in his palm, and pulls Liam's fingers over it.

‘I’m sorry, my dear. Please never keep this from me again. I want you to feel comfortable, you could even come in a t-shirt and jeans.’

Liam laughs, his head falls on Percy's shoulder.

‘You don't mean that in a million years. The last part I mean.’

Percy barks a laugh, and pulls Liam in for a hug.

‘Thank god, it would completely go against the dress code.’

As they recover from their fit of laughter, their phones vibrate at the same time. Percy pulls his out of his corset quicker.

Henry's Strumpet

slight delay

bad traffic

Auntie Pezza

No worries darlings

Liam 🤠❤️

I smell bullshit

Henry's Strumpet

shut up

Ur staying at the hotel

What do you know

Liam 🤠❤️

I know that you're 10 mins drive away, maybe 20 in bad traffic. You're over 30 mins late

Henry's Strumpet

when did you get so good at maths

Auntie Pezza

Now now, let's calm down lovelies

Henry 👑🥰

Apologies Percy, we're running late. Alex accosted me and quite frankly, fucked my brains out.

Liam 🤠❤️

WTF

DID NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT

Henry 👑🥰

Fuck.

That was not meant for the group chat. I am so sorry, so so so sorry.

Auntie Pezza

That's my boy!! 🥲

Henry's Strumpet

um excuse me accosted?

[taste-thewaste]

Henry’s first time trying to do his own laundry in the brownstone and will absolutely NOT admit that he accidentally shrunk his T shirts in the dryer and wears them around the house as slutty crop tops

this turned out so soft (like henry) i hope you enjoy!!

Read on AO3 if you prefer!

They never explicitly discussed it, but Alex does the laundry. Henry’s done his best learning all the tasks of domesticity–a lifetime of being waited on in a castle is hard to unlearn–but laundry has always eluded him. The washer just has so many buttons and the dryer…is it natural to stick something in a metal hole and have it come out piping hot and fluffy? Henry doesn’t think so. 

Alex has been perfectly fine doing the laundry, but then suddenly he’s gone for a week on a trip to DC and Henry’s stuck in the city and he’s out of t-shirts and he cannot simply lounge around in polos and button-ups. 

“I’m out of t-shirts,” Henry whines over Facetime one night to his boyfriend, pouting openly. 

“Wear one of mine,” Alex says. 

“You know that won’t work,” Henry says, panning the phone down to his tummy poking out over his jeans. 

“Oh, my poor little prince,” Alex says with fake sympathy, a grin on his face. “What are you going to do without me there to do your laundry?” 

“I could do my own laundry,” Henry says quickly, fake confidence coating his voice. “I could do my own laundry any time I want.” 

“Oh, could you? Prove it,” Alex says, and that settles it. Henry is doing his own laundry. 

Everything goes swimmingly with the washing machine (no one ever needs to know about the way it overflowed with suds because he cleaned it up right away and the floor needed to be washed anyways, thank you very much). It’s the dryer that ends up throwing a wrench into it. 

Into the dryer go all of his t-shirts, clean and smelling like soap, and when they come out they’re warm, dry and six inches shorter than they had been going in. 

Alex comes home a few days later and there is Henry, sitting on the couch, wearing his ‘Hollywood Handshake’ graphic t-shirt and reading Jane Austen. “Welcome home, love,” Henry says with a warm smile, and when he stands up, Alex bursts out laughing in a way he hasn’t in forever. 

“What are you laughing at?” Henry asks, hands on hips, and that only serves to make Alex laugh harder. Henry’s t-shirt, white with a photo of Paul Hollywood in the middle with the words ‘Hollywood Handshake’ in an arch above and below the picture, would’ve been funny enough (it had been a gag Christmas gift from Alex that Henry unironically loves). The fact that it can now only be called a crop top, Paul Hollywood’s face all squished up and Henry’s belly fully visible, is what sends Alex over the edge. 

“You shrank your t-shirts, didn’t you?” Alex asks between fits of giggles. 

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Henry says haughtily, but the glee emanating from Alex breaks down his resolve and he smiles, too. 

“I’m loving the new look, sweetheart. Especially this,” Alex says, and he comes over and pokes Henry’s tummy. Henry crosses his arms over his chest self-consciously but the grin on his face belies his body language and Alex pokes him again, tickles his belly. 

“Stooooop,” he says, laughing and reaching out and grabbing Alex by the shoulders. He tugs him closer and Alex wraps him into a hug. 

“I missed you,” Alex says, holding him tightly. Then he bends over and kisses Henry’s tummy, an action that sends a blush to Henry’s cheeks. “And I missed you.”  

“You are ridiculous,” Henry says softly, but there’s no malice behind the words, he’s feeling too soft for that. He loves how much Alex loves his body. 

“Tell me something, sweetheart,” Alex says, settling his hands on Henry’s hips. “Did you wash all your t-shirts? Did they all meet the same fate?” 

Henry nods. “Why do you ask?” 

Alex reaches out and pinches Henry’s belly so he yelps. “Just want to know how long the fashion show I’m going to force you into is going to be.” Henry’s laugh is music to Alex’s ears.

[melancholiaincarnate]

so far so good

warnings - none

authors note - hi :P this is my first published acotar fic :3 i mentioned in a post a couple of days ago i wanted to start a series with ficlets about mated azriel x reader who happen to adopt a shadowsinger child named piper. here's the first installment :) i plan on making more so if you have requests for them send em in :D

"okay piper," azriel stretches, an action that causes a swirl in your stomach as his shirt lifts up slightly, revealing the hair decorating his tummy. "ready?"

"i'm ready!" she bounces on her feet, excitement visible on her face. shadows zip quickly around her - faster than you can blink. her shadows are impatient and easily excited, unlike azriel's, who prefer to wait and watch.

"remember, we're practicing winnowing. can you do that?" azriel cracks his knuckles and his wings shudder, then he disappears. he shortly reappears behind piper, and she squeals with delight. "i can't winnow so my winnowing looks a little different than yours but i promise - it's practically the same thing."

"yes! yes! i know! you told me! i can do it, azzy, i swear!" she shouts back at him, shadows twirling at her feet, "it's my turn!"

"alright, alright. it's your turn, pip." he smiles softly at her, crouching down to whisper something in her ear before she shuts her eyes so hard her whole face squishes.

"remember to envision where you want to go." his voice is soft in the child's ear. you watch as he smoothes down her hair as he stands to observe.

piper's body begins to slowly disappear but when she murmurs a "i'm doing it!" her body comes back into focus.

"you have to stay focused, pip." he reminds, giving her a nod. "focus is key."

"focus is key." her small voice repeats, and then suddenly she's at your side.

"hi! wait - woah- hi- hi! i did it! look, i was over there and now i'm over here!" you're sure you've never seen such delight on a single person's face before. "i did it! i did it, azzy i did it! look!"

"good job, piper." his voice is as stoic as ever but pride swims in his veins. azriel assumes that this is why cassian and rhys want children. the pure joy that sits in his chest right now has no match for anything he's ever experienced.

and yet, there's a clawing deep in his mind. it's in his chest, his bones, in the scars on his hand. he feels an attachment to this child - this girl that he and you found in the woods alone. this is not his daughter.

as piper runs off with you in tow, screaming about telling cassia, azriel glances at the scars on his hands. azriel could never think about hurting piper. it'd taken half of the inner court to restrain him from going to hunt down piper's attackers.

piper was not his daughter but he was his fathers son. anger rises through him - how could his father look at his own child and do what he'd done, when azriel could not fathom doing it to a child he had no part in creating?

shadows swarm in his ear chanting incomprehensible words to him. the anger is white and hot and it's so consuming that it sends a throng down the bond towards you.

in return, he feels you tugging the bond, tugging towards you, tugging him towards the light again. he breathes - he is not in that basement. "come, az." you whisper softly down the bond, "please."

and who is he to deny you? he unclenches his fists, steadying his breathing once more before tucking his wings and strolling away from the room as if he hadn't nearly fallen into a pit with no way out.

[eros-ghoulette]

You idiot

Swiss loves the winter and Mountain is the reason.

Characters: Swiss, Mountain Word count: 446

Swiss loved winter; he just loved it. And the reason for that was a certain earth ghoul, who was currently snuggled up to him, snoring softly. The sun wasn’t up yet, and the multi was lucky that he could turn up his body heat, as it was freezing cold outside. Under the blanket, it was cosy, to say the least. Swiss had his tail wrapped around Mountain's waist, one leg tossed over Mountain's, clinging to him. Unfortunately, the tall ghoul was wearing a shirt, so Swiss couldn’t simply admire his soft skin. And the freckles on his shoulder were also nearly completely gone, which was kind of sad, Swiss thought so at least.

There was the best part of winter, though: Mountain's paunch. How his lover grew from slim to chubby every winter never failed to amaze Swiss. He loved that tummy, trailing his fingers over the ghoul's happy trail, pinching the soft skin. The way it wiggled when Swiss savoured him, how he could hold onto it, sinking his fingers into that bit of fat...

One of his hands found its way under the hem of the drummer's shirt, caressing his gut.

“What ya doin’?” the earth ghoul grunted softly without opening his eyes, his voice thick with sleep.

“Admiring you,” he answered with a grin.

Mountain snorted and cracked an eye open, watching the other.

“You idiot,” he mumbled quietly, but the smile on his lips spoke for itself.

Swiss squeezed the gut and chuckled at Mountain's reaction, who wiggled a bit. So the multi repeated the motion until the taller ghoul had enough and slipped his hands under the blanket, pulling the other's arms away and rolling them so he could press Swiss into the mattress.

Now it was Swiss's turn to laugh his lungs out, as Mountain knew exactly where to tickle him. And while his hands had Swiss's arms pinned away, his tail was free and attacked the multi's side, making him squirm and laugh.

“Stop! Mount-”

It was hard to form a sentence when you couldn’t really breathe, something Swiss knew from experience; and Mountain did too. He let the other suffer until the only thing coming from him were faint pleas to stop.

“So? Will you be a good boy now?” he asked with a grin, still holding the other's arms. And to his surprise, Swiss nodded, his cheeks completely flushed, chest rising fast.

What Mountain didn’t realize was that Swiss got what he wanted: the earth ghoul grounding him, showing how much winter affected his body and how soft he got. So even with the “torture” he had to go through, the multi counted it as a win. _______________

let me tag you here @icechippies

[mushiewrites]

warning: nsfw themes

Day 4: Weak Spot

You can still reserve unmarked days

Warnings: Intense tickles, restraints, mentioned romantic dreamnotnap, romantic dreamnap, mention of nsfw relations, explicit language

Reserved by @mushiewrites

The three boys were finally beginning to settle into life as a throuple, learning different boundaries and who's into what. It was apparent that Dream and Sapnap were the more openly affectionate ones where as George seemed to be more of an acts of service type of lover. He would cook, clean, do little things for them as a way of expressing his love. Sapnap and Dream were clearly more on the Words of Affirmation and Touch side of things, preferring to cuddle and say 'I love you' and through out compliments like candy on Halloween. Today was no different, George had cooked the two dinner and cleaned up before leaving to see a movie with Hannah, Sylvee, and Skeppy, and Dream and Sapnap laid curled up together on Sapnap’s bed.

"How many people do you think would be surprised by this image?" Sapnap asked, showing Dream his phone, displaying the picture he just took of him pressed against his chest.

"Look, I like being little spoon, nothing wrong with that! You're warm and you hold me nice. Plus I like your smell, you always smell good" He fluttered his eyelashes up at his boyfriend, just barely hearing him mutter something about him being a flatterer over his heartbeat, slow, loud, and rhythmic.

"Stoooopp! You're gonna put me to sleeeep!" Dream whined, softly batting the hand in his hair.

"You're so rude! What happened to your manners" Sap lightheartedly teased back, carefully rolling him onto his back, looking down at him fondly.

"I guess you didn't fuck them into me hard enough~" Sapnap’s jaw dropped, not expecting something like that out of Dream, George sure, but Dream?! Once the shock faded it turned into a dark look, one that got Dream’s heart skipping every time he saw it. He looked up at him with doe eyes, sliding his hands up his arms to his shoulders, pulling him down to kiss him.

"Sounds like I need to take a different approach~" Sapnap purred against his lips, biting the bottom one softly, earning a small tug to the back of his curls.

"Oooo~ You gonna spank me this time~?" What has gotten into him lately?? Whatever it was, it wasn't what Sapnap had in mind. He trailed his kisses down his neck,knowing full well his eyes fell closed. He slid Dream’s hands up, locking them in the leather cuffs that were still on his bed frame, sliding his hands down as he came back up to kiss him again.

"I had something else in mind~" Was the only thing Sapnap said before digging into Dream’s stomach, a well known weak spot for the tall blonde, one that Sapnap loved to abuse as often as he could. He heard the immediate clang of Dream yanking his wrists in surprise, bucking his hips up but not doing much with how Sapnap was laid across his hips.

"I figured this might get through to you a little better~" He crooned, sliding his hoodie and shirt up painfully slow.

"NO! No cohome ohohon! I thought we were being nice today! You were mean yesterday!" Dream whined, squirming as much as he could, which wasn't very much.

"You wanted to test me today, I just so happen to have a lack of patience today~" Sapnap chuckled at the harsh flinch when he leaned down to kiss his blushing tummy. Tracing circles around his bellybutton like a shark.

"All you have to do is apologize and say you'll behave~" Dream could barely comprehend what was said, it took him a bit before shaking his head.

"Nohohohoho, juhuhust dohohon't dohohoho ihihit!"

"That's not an option to pick my darling~" Sapnap slid his hands to his lightly freckled sides and dropped down to press the biggest, deepest raspberry right below his sternum. Dream shrieked at the top of his lungs, head flung back, feet kicking wildly, if they didn't live where they did the neighbors definitely would've called the police. Dream sucked in as much air as he could while Sapnap giggled at his reaction.

"Stohop lahaughing at mehehehe!"

"I'm not laughing at you gorgeous, you're just so damn cute~!"

"FUHUHUCK!" Dream screamed loudly, his laughter almost sounding like only screams as Sapnap pressed tiny raspberries along his sides while he teased his bellybutton, somehow only touching with his nail. It wasn't until he added his teeth when Dream started to break, his laughter going silent for a seconds before coming back. His looked up as he slowly nibbled closer to the middle of his tummy, seeing Dream's face soaked with tears, waving his trapped hand. He paused, only pressing firm kisses to the red belly.

"Fuhuhuhckin hehehehell, I'm sohohohorry. I'll be behahahave I swehehear." Sapnap moved up, kissing his tear soaked face, carefully releasing his wrists, moving them back into their original position. Dream pressed himself impossibly close to Sapnap, rubbing his face against his shoulder like a sleepy baby, before making himself comfortable. He nudged him twice before he understood what he wanted, moving his hand up to play with his hair as he fell asleep, sending George a picture of the aftermath which he quickly made his lockscreen.

[luveline]

For Eddie and Roan, can you write a ficlet where Roan wakes up sick and goes to Eddie's bed to wake him up and tell him she doesn't feel good and he's worried and takes her temperature and sees that she's fever, so he stays at home taking care of her?

eddie and roan ♡

Roan's head feels heavy as a bowling ball. She focuses very hard on not falling over, and so she doesn't realise you're awake and sitting up until she's climbing onto the bottom of your bed. 

“Hey, princess,” you whisper, holding your finger to your lips, “daddy's still sleeping.” 

She loves you, but she ignores you. She loves you, capital L, but she needs her dad. You don't try to stop her, the book on your thighs closing as you let your hiked knees fall. “Ro?” you ask. 

“Dad,” she whines, “I need you to be awake.” 

Eddie puts his hand up to her face. Roan groans and tips her head back as he feels along her head to the soft crop of hair at the base of her neck. “Why?” he asks hoarsely, pulling her in blindly.  

Parcelled against his chest, Roan can hardly breathe. “Daddy,” she says urgently. 

He lifts his head on the pillow, eyes peeled back painstakingly slowly. “What's the matter, Ro?” 

She knew he'd know there was something wrong. Her dad knows everything even when he says he doesn't, and her eyes fizzle with tears in the gentle embrace of his arm. He rubs her back accordingly. “What's wrong, baby?” he asks, adopting his softest of tones. 

Roan hides her face in his chest shyly. “I feel bad…” 

Eddie feels suddenly and extremely worried at the sight of her. He panics hard, heart in his mouth sort of panic, but then you touch his elbow and he remembers he's not doing it alone anymore. 

“What kind of sick?” he asks. 

Roan curls into her pill bug shape on top of him and cries about her head feeling weird and her tummy aching. He puts his hand on her stomach and finds it bloated despite it being rather small otherwise. He has no idea what it means, but he assures her it'll be okay the way he always does, murmurs said between teeny kisses pressed to her temple and his fingers raking down through her hair one rumpled curl at a time. 

Your second alarm rings. 

You get dressed quickly and Eddie doesn't move. He knows he can't go to work, not when she's like this. He can't imagine sending her to school, and can't imagine leaving her home this sort of sick without him. He remembers all those years ago feeling sick as a dog wishing Wayne could stay home just to keep him company, and he remembers being smaller, his mom on the couch, his sweaty head in her lap.  

You hop into one of your socks, smiling at him over her head. He smiles back. What can you do? it says. 

Perfume sprayed, hair done, you stand in the doorway brushing your teeth. “I can go get you some stuff before I go to work if I rush. Sorry, I wasn't thinking. She likes the cream of mushroom soup, right? Or is it cream of chicken?” 

“Both. Mushroom’s her favourite. And white rice. And cranberry juice.” 

“I know she wants cranberry juice,” you say around a mouthful of froth, waving your hand, “don't insult me, Eds.” 

He feels her forehead. She'd felt warm enough to guess she was sick, but her forehead is ember hot. “Aw, god,” he says, sitting up despite his twinging back, Roan held tight to his chest. “Can you get me a hand towel? Soak it in some cold water?” 

“Sure thing,” you say, rushing off. 

“This isn't cool, Ro, you weren't gonna tell me you're a human furnace? Thought we told each other everything?” he asks, brushing her hair back from her face. 

“I'm hot,” she says. 

He taps the tip of her nose. Her eyes focus on his finger, so he figures she'll be okay for now. “I know. I can feel it.” He'll hold a cold hand towel to her head for a bit to give her the chance to calm down, and if she doesn't cool he'll give her a lukewarm bath. There will be things to do, taking her temperature, calling the school, calling the doctor, rubbing her small back, but he's done it before. He can handle it without you. 

“I'm just a phone call away, okay?” you say, passing him the wrung towel carefully. “If you need anything, just call me.” You kiss his cheek, then Roan's. “Promise?” 

“I'll call you,” he says honestly. “But we'll be okay, won't we, babe?” 

Roan mumbles something unintelligible. Eddie's pretty sure she's saying we'll be fine. 

[piratefishmama]

Nest | Part 15

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

For Eddie, it was like he knew he needed something, he knew his body needed something, but had no real idea of how to go about getting it, and in his confusion, he’d forgotten why he’d wanted the nameless mystery thing in the first place.

He’d made one attempt at presenting himself like instinct would guide him into doing, but when the alpha present didn’t take the opportunity, he found himself unsure of what to do next. His alpha just about managed to catch the downward spiral of rejection before it spun out of control, comforting him, reassuring him, but it all left Eddie feeling a little bit… lost.

He didn’t have the experience to try something else.

Had it been anyone else. Anyone with experience. An Omega who’d shared their heats before, or at least gotten laid once or twice, Steve would have been in trouble, Eddie would have had just enough knowledge to try harder, but with the complete lack of such knowledge… it had the Omega simply settling into Steve’s side, and basking in the presence of an alpha’s comforting scent for what should have been the most stressful part of his heat.

Too unsure of what else he ought to be doing to be stressed about doing it. Sure, he was a little uncomfortable, absolutely, but his alpha was right there. Big, strong, his arms wrapped comfortably around him, he had the little towel drenched in his alphas scent direct from his gland so it was easy to let himself drift off.

Even with the ache settled low in his tummy, even with the slippery, warm, slick sensation between his legs, the uncomfortable ache in his gums and the urge to bite something that came along with it, and of course, the feverish heat his body radiated, he knew he wanted something. His body definitely wanted something, an uncomfortable aching hunger that niggled in the back of his mind to be satiated, but… he could wait for… whatever it was, surely it’d show up eventually if it was that important.

It wasn’t as unbearable as he’d been so sure it’d be. He wasn’t even in any pain. It wasn’t hurting him.

He was content, he was cosy, he was safe. Protected. And with his alpha ever so gently stroking his fingers through Eddie’s damp hair, fingertips occasionally grazing his scalp in a way that had Eddie chirruping softly in his light doze… he could comfortably succumb to sleep.

For Steve… there was no sleeping when Eddie was like this.

Steve couldn’t close his eyes and rest, even with Eddie’s own eyes closed, the Omega’s body, while relaxed, felt like it was on fire. Steve could feel every inch of him, he radiated heat, skin clammy, slick with sweat, his hair clinging to his body in a way that could never be comfortable but was likely the very lowest on the totem pole of problems Eddie’s poor incredibly fragile mind was focusing on, even though Steve did try and stroke his fingers through it to give him some comfort.

Eddie seemed to be able to rest, his eyes were closed, and while yes, his body still shook, still shivered, he still appeared deeply uncomfortable, and he still wriggled in Steves arms, he looked like he’d slipped into a light slumber.

Steve couldn’t rest. There was no possible way he could even relax less it accidentally lead to sleep. The last thing Steve needed was to slip under and come to with Eddie taking advantage, he wouldn’t even know it was wrong, wouldn’t even be able to consider what his actions actually were, driven solely by primal instinct, right and wrong lost to him.

Sleep wasn’t safe for either of them.

So he laid there in the nest, Eddie curled up into his side, his warm breath fanning across Steve’s neck in short, laboured little puffs of humid air, his fingers curled so tightly into the towel Steve had given him hours ago that they also dug into Steve’s shirt beneath it.

Steve was focusing entirely on the steady whirr of the vents, loud and somewhat irritating, but there, keeping the air in the room from becoming unbearably thick. Keeping the scent Eddie was still giving off from becoming overwhelming even at such a close proximity to the source.

He was hungry. His stomach rumbled in protest, he hadn’t eaten properly. Too anxious, having been sinking into his own little spiral of despair over not being there for his Omega, he’d totally ignored the one meal he could have had before this whole mess and now… now he had no way of getting food. Any attempt made by anyone outside the room to sneak something in ran the risk of Eddie’s territorial rage. It was just him.

Just him, his thoughts, and his prayers to a god he wasn’t sure he believed in that Eddie would just sleep through it all. That his body would settle for just Steve’s presence and nothing more, because so far it was working.

Eddie wasn’t producing nearly as much slick as he would have been had they being actively going for it, his thighs were damp, the materials of his nest wet beneath his body, but it wasn’t an overwhelming amount, it wasn’t nearly enough for him to comfortably take even an average sized knot. He wouldn’t have even been able to comfortably take the smaller of the heat aids with what he was producing.

He wasn’t begging, he wasn’t pushing, or demanding, he could sort of talk while awake, and he was coherent enough to understand what was being said to him even if he couldn’t retain the memory of it being said.

He was like… a blank slate. A confused animal uncertain of its purpose, made evident by the fact that, as Steve made damn sure to check, Eddie had actually fallen asleep.

While he should have been at the very height of lust, at the pinnacle of need, desperate to be filled, desperate to feel full, to be bred, and doing everything during the short period of time he had to achieve it, he’d… fallen asleep. Nestled into the crook of Steve’s neck, breathing a little heavily, sure, but he’d fallen asleep.

Looking like he had nothing more than a fever, maybe a light flu, he slept.

And he kept sleeping.

Even while Steve stared at the ceiling, listening to the whirr of the air vents, listening to the faint sounds of the clock on the wall as time went tick by tock. Eddie slept soundly all the way through until his status as a human radiator began to slowly subside, as time passed them by reducing the risk with each tick of the clock until sunlight filled the shadows in the room, filtering through the curtains of the frosted windows.

The only warning Steve had that his omega was finally coming too, was the subtle furrow of his brow, and a soft grumble of a sound, before bleary eyes opened to take in the world around him with a little more clarity than he’d had when he’d first closed them.

His pupils were still blown, his skin was still warm and clammy, but he had enough strength to ease himself out of Steve’s arms, the towel he’d been clutching falling into his bare lap, alerting him to the fact that it was there to begin with. He took in his surroundings, his nest was a mess, he took in his physical state, naked and confused.

And finally, he took in the alpha still residing to his left, who watched him with barely concealed alarm. Steve. Steve was in his room.

His nest was a mess.

He was naked.

And Steve, an Alpha. Was in his room.

“Steve…?”

“It’s not what it looks like.” And then came… the panic.

Part 17

[pedrospookie]

hello, my dearest 💛

with this ask I challenge you to write a ficlet (or anything bigger if you want) inspired by this screenshot:

may the writing muses be with you,

kissing you on your forehead (if you allow it not then just waving from the distance!)

Howdy howdy!

Thank you for sending in this ask 🤭 I love me some Jack Daniels— my favourite cowboy! I was inspired by Elton John this week and caught myself listening to I guess that’s why they call it the blues while writing this. I’ll be curious to know if you can spot the songs influence! This is my first crack at writing in over half a decade, so I feel a little rusty… but i think it’s cute!

I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues — Jack Daniels x f!reader (fluff/angst)

wc: 2.1k | mild swearing, intimacy is hinted at, nothing wild for my first crack back

A smoky, twangy voice and the strum of a guitar murmurs through Jack’s bronco, filling the comfortable silence between you. His thick hand wrapped delicately around your thigh, claiming what is his as you parade through the open roads, the sweet smell of honeysuckle filling your lungs with every gust of the evening breeze. The bluebells were in full bloom this time of year, glowing almost a pale shade of purple under the lazy setting sun. These quiet moments with Jack had grown to be some of your most cherished moments together, life often getting in the way of the simple life you shared.

You knew Jack as the wholesome country boy from down the way, a man who straps on his boots and Stetson every morning, who appreciates the taste of an ice cold sweet tea on a scorching hot day and who could tame a horse quicker than a cat on a hot tin roof. The soft, kind boy with the crooked smile and whiskey coloured eyes, who wants to do things right, the boy who would go to the end of the world and back for you. To you, he was just Jack— a simple boy from Kentucky, not Agent Whiskey, not an international spy or trained assassin, just a boy who fell in love with a girl.

Yet, somehow your quiet, simple life together was being interrupted once again. In less than 20 hours, with a kiss and a pinky promise to comeback to his sweet girl, he would be off.

Jack would disappear and Agent Whiskey would be somewhere halfway across the world, undisclosed and unreachable. It made Jack sick to leave you. He knew the toll it took on you and your relationship. It broke his heart to go, every time he stepped out that door he cursed himself for it. He knew how his career haunted you, yet you never complained. You only had one simple ask, that he had to come home. Jack felt resentful towards the countdown running in his mind, but he couldn’t think about that right now. He had to cherish this time with you, his girl. His sun, moon and stars. Together under the canopy of the setting sun, nestled on the leather seats of his Bronco, Jack was desperate to get you home, where the sleepy ranch awaits, and tangle himself into you.

“Darlin’, can you promise me one thing?” Jack’s rough voice breaks through the silence, pulling your attention to him.

“What’s that, dear?” You smile, placing your hand on top of his, both resting them on your thigh. Jack lowers his sunglasses with his free hand, looking at you sincerely. The look in his eye sent butterflies bursting through your tummy, it was so charming and sincere. Your sweet boy.

“That when I’m back, you’ll take the day off so we can spend the mornin’ together again? Like that one time?” His chocolatey, brown eyes beg, voice so soft that it is nearly a whisper. The sound of his request tugging on your heart strings. How could you deny him that?

That morning had been perfect.

After several long, agonizing, worrisome weeks apart, Jack had finally made his return, embracing you the moment he entered the door and refusing to let go until the next morning.

You woke in a messy tangle of limbs and bedsheets, the sun shining through and glittering it’s rays across Jack’s soft brown hair that was sticking up every which way, coaxing a small laugh from your lips. Your soft laughter stirred the cowboy awake, his grip on your increasing until he had you nestled under him, burying you with affection. I have a lot of catching up to do, he murmured gently along your neck, pressing open mouth kisses down your pulse points. Once he had had his fill, he was overcome with hunger. I’m a lucky man, he chuckled, getting my dessert before breakfast, the words tumbled from his plush lips as he flipped eggs in a fry pan. The record player was crooning along to an old Hank Williams album as you watched your darling cowboy make his way across the kitchen, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder as he focused on making the perfect sunny side up egg for his sunshine. He was just an old sweet soul taking care of his girl, pure domestic bliss. A sigh found it’s way across your lips as you admired the man in front of you. It felt so right to have him back, to have him home with you. Your sigh caught his attention, a smug look crossing his face as he approaches you at the kitchen table, spatula still in hand. Can I have this dance? He asked in a tone as sweet as sugar, quirking an eyebrow in anticipation. Jack would give anything or find any excuse to have you in his arms. How could he not? You looked extra beautiful, seated at his table, wearing his shirt and the warm morning sun cascading over you, making you glow. Maybe she was an angel after all, he thought to himself as he pulled you into his chest, his large hand pressing into your lower back, beginning to sway along to Hank’s melancholic voice. Jack had no idea how he managed to snag a woman like you, but he counted his lucky stars for it. He would lasso the moon for you, if you asked. Jack inhaled deeply, catching the sweet scent of your shampoo and the lingering remnants of your perfume. It was good to be home.

Your moment of bliss was rudely interrupted by the blaring sound of the fire alarm, smoke starting to waft through the kitchen, stirring a panic between the two of you. Fuck! The eggs! Jack yelped, reaching for the window above the sink and promptly flinging the burnt scraps from the fry pan out the window.

“I’m pretty sure I still owe you a dance.” Jack chuckles, thinking back to that morning, the sound of your laugh tugging on his heart strings. It was hard to keep his eyes on the road, the short peeks weren’t enough for Jack. He wanted to see the way you crinkle your nose when you giggle like that.

“And a new fry pan.” You shoot back with a cheeky grin. Jack could only shake his head at you before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, steadying his gaze on the road ahead. I’ll get you something even better than a fry pan, Jack smirks to himself as he admires your small hand in his, thinking about the twinkling secret tucked at the back of his night stand.

“And a new fry pan.” He rolls his eyes playfully, “But I will be cashin’ in on that dance once I’m home, gorgeous. I’m gonna wine ‘n dine ya ‘til the cows come home.”

“We’ll see about that, cowboy. Do you remember the last time you promised to take me out to the city?” You snicker, watching his mouth fly open and his moustache framing his surprise, completely aghast.

It was a day hotter than hell itself.

The tall grass moped, praying for a break from the beating sun, crunching under each foot step as Jack led you towards the barn. One last chore, he had promised with a wink, needing to put out some extra water for his horses before taking you into town.

The hose groaned awake as Jack twisted the squeaky spout, the sound of flowing water starting to rush through the rubber. Anticipating a splash, you held out the rusted bucket waiting for water to hit. However, your pail remained as dry as the desert. A look of confusion crossed your face, lacing your brows together, matching the similar look on Jack’s face, until he spots the reason for this drought. His rough, calloused hands pick the old hose up and twist it, relieving the rubber of the kink in its form and releasing the pent up water from within it, dousing you in the process. The shot of cold water shocked your system, spraying your face and chest, the bucket in your hands doing a piss poor job of catching any of it. Jack was beside himself, eyes as wide as saucers, moustache twitching as he mutters apology after apology. Sugar, I am SO sorr—He is interrupted by a loud splash, water hitting him square in the chest, his white shirt sticking to his bronze chest as a roar erupts from you cutting the tension in the air. His worried eyes relax as he chuckles along with you. Oh, now you’re on, missy, he warns, picking the plastic hose back up and chasing you through the old barn.

“Well darlin’, I don’t remember you complaining about that,” Jack murmurs smugly, “something ‘bout how I’d win a wet t-shirt contest?” He flashes you an award winning smile, his moustache curling ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth, this gorgeous smile sparking a warmth across your face and chest.

“Alright, alright. Easy does it, cowboy.” You chuckle, refusing to give Jack the satisfaction of knowing that he’s right. You were going to miss his playful banter and southern charm. The weeks away were always hard, even when you tried to fill them with hobbies and your friends.

“You know I’d keep you under the covers all day if I could, sugar.” Jack croons with a twinkle in his eye, placing a delicate kiss to each of your fingers before reaching the back of your hand. He could feel the mood shift, dancing away from lighthearted teasing to something deeper. He caught the sad look in your eye, feeling guilt wash over him. He looked back at the road ahead of him once more, before turning back to look at you.

“More than just the covers, pretty girl, I need you every day.”

He could feel it in his heart of hearts, that burning desire to be home, that it was time for him to hang up his lasso. Jack was ready to be wholeheartedly present with you, that it was time that could be better spent with you. Making memories together, building your life together, making babies together. His life as Agent Whiskey was one that had come and passed, exciting and cathartic at first, but it had sucked his soul dry. He was tired — exhausted — and ready to be home, to spend his days on his quiet farm, dedicating every waking moment to you. Jack would get that dance, and at then end of the night he would share that twinkling secret with you in hopes that you will say yes. This was promise to you; that you would finally start living the life that he promised to give you.

His grip on your thigh tightens, giving you a little love squeeze bringing you both back into the present. The sun now peeking lower on the horizon.

“I’m going to miss you.” You murmur, tears slowly filling your eyes as you fight the growing lump in your throat. You keep your eyes on the road, counting the stop signs to distract yourself. 3 more until you’re home.

The sound of your breaking voice tugged on Jack’s heart strings. It killed him to see you this way, to know that it was because of him, that he caused this pain and sadness.

“I know, darlin’. I’ll be missin’ you every moment of every day.” He smiles weakly, placing a soft kiss against the back of your hand, refusing to let it go. “It won’t be long before I’m home, it won’t be forever. There’s never a moment where I ain’t thinkin’ of you, of your beautiful eyes, that gorgeous smile…” his voice drifts off for a moment, until he sighs. “I’ll be countin’ down the hours til I’m back here with you, baby.”

While he’s putting on a brave face, his eyes give way to every emotion he is feeling, a mistiness creeping across those big brown puppy dog eyes.

“Please come back home to me, Jack,” You beg, squeezing his hand to emphasize how serious you were.

“I always do, baby. Pinky promise.”

tag list: @josephquinnswhore @iamasaddie

[mushiewrites]

.....okay look this wasn't necessary 🫠

Manhunt Training (Dream x GeorgeNotFound x Sapnap)

Word count: 872

This is for Mushie’s lee!George week! This is Day 3 and the prompt is In Minecraft.

     All three of them were panting softly as they laid out in the grass together.

     Today was Manhunt Training Day for them. Sapnap and George had just lost to Dream, they hadn't even caught him once.

     In their training sessions they would avoid hurting each other and instead use any other methods to annoy. Recently, they had used tickling a lot more. Very effective, as all three hated to be tickled.

     George especially.

     "Your turn Georgie.", Dream said, sitting up with a smirk. While they did do sessions where Sapnap and George were the runner, it wasn't all that often. Mostly just Dream. But, the masked boy was suddenly craving his best friend's shrieks, and Sapnap would never protest that.

"Yeah.", the blaze-hybrid agreed quickly, sitting up.

"What, no it isn't?".

"Yeah huh.".

"Better start running.".

"What?!", George yelped. While he wanted to argue, his instincts were kicking in as he saw Sapnap reach for him out of the corner of his eye. With giggles already pouring from his lips, he scrambled to his feet and fled away from the hunters. "No!!".

George was aware this wasn't a real training session. He could tell Dream was just bored and with the way the two were joking and laughing as they chased him, he knew this was just play. Because of that, he had a tough time keeping his nervous giggling at bay.

This wasn't going to be fair, he could already tell. He was terrified to be chased down by both of them guessing their only intention was to tickle him to bits.

    

     Sapnap could fight; he was aggressive and strong. Dream was a pro; he was quick with his mind and moves. George really stood no chance against them.

    

     The butterflies in his stomach were going wild as he ran. He ran as fast and hard as he could, completely panicked about the punishment for being caught.

Easily, Sapnap caught him. Still in the grass plains, just at the edge of the forest, George was taken down to the ground and pinned.

"Gotcha bitch!!". George shrieked in terror as all of his limbs were collected up. Two pairs of evil hands and fingers descended on his sensitive sides and legs, tickling him mercilessly right away. George threw his head back and cackled, writhing helplessly.

"Fuck, stop!! Actually stop!!".

Sapnap laughed as he wedged both his hands into the squirmy boy's underarms. Dream smiled fondly as he gently squeezed up and down his sides. George screamed with laughter. He twisted back and forth, but was trapped.

Unfortunately for George, this wasn't a real training session. They would have released him and declared him the loser by now. He squeaked in realization and shook his head 'no'. His eyes were already tearing up since Sapnap was meanly tickling right into his death spot.

"Tickle tickle...", Dream murmured happily.

"Lemme go!!!", George wailed. The two only coo'ed at him. Frantic laughter and loud squeals poured out of him as he desperately tried to squirm free.

Eventually, the grip on his limbs loosened and he was able to flip out of the hold. Worn out and filled with giggles, he shoved Dream and scrambled to his feet, ducking away from Sapnap's grab and took off running clumsily. It was a little too easy. George had a sense that Dream and Sapnap were playing with him.

     He tried as hard as he could, but he could just not stop giggling as he tore through the forest. Shouts and war cries sounded behind him as the other boys chased him.

"Leave me alone!! Please!!", he begged. The idea of being caught again and tickled silly was overwhelming. He shrieked as he ducked around a tree and Sapnap almost caught him. "Please please please!!", he cried. "Oh my god!!!". He screamed as he threw blocks down, got to the top of the trees, and parkoured across the leaves just to find Dream and Sapnap hot on his trail. Dream wheezed at the noise.

"C'mere George!!!". He shrieked again.

It was a little longer this time, but eventually he was tackled down again in a field of flowers. All three rolled through the grass in a fit of breathless giggles, tangled together.

"You're getting faster Georgie!".

"Not fast enough though!".

Sapnap wrapped his arms around George in a bear hug from behind and plopped onto the grass, trapping his arms down to his sides. Dream settled near them and wiggled evil fingers over the squirmy boy.

"Got the giggles?". George screeched when Dream dropped the hands to his tummy and tickled him. His head flopped back in defeat against Sapnap and he could do nothing but laugh. Adorable hiccups punched through his laughter. Squirming helplessly under the tickly torture. All animals in a mile radius cleared out in fear from the hysterical shrieking of the ticklish boy.

They went on like that for hours; chasing George down and tickling him silly, just to let him go and chase him again. George wouldn't admit it, but it actually was great practice.

Though, he couldn't wait to get to chase one of them next. He was planning on tickling the absolute muffin-fuck out of them in revenge.

[thehypnone]

omg look alpha tummy

(with @eros-ghoulette in mind hi I love that latest ficlet!!!)