#plushie fic

[pahtoosh]

baba face

[image ID: photos of sebastian stan, chris evans, and various stuffed animals photoshopped onto a yellow background. sebastian stan is holding a round wolf stuffed animal and looking into the distance. chris evans is hiding a smile with a hand over his mouth. the stuffed animals include four frowning stuffed animals and one smiling one. /.end ID]

masterlist

18+

wc: ~2400 words

warnings: reader takes a little tumble

a/n: this was inspired by @angelbaby-fics ! Chloe, thank you for showing me your turtle and inspiring this whole piece! (side note: if anyone would like to talk about their stuffies, I would LOVE to hear about them!!

pairing: stucky x gn!little!reader

summary: sam gets a stuffed animal for reader that frowns like bucky! things get out of hand when the other avengers join in and buy reader way too many grumpy stuffies

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ

It all started when Sam came back from a mission in late June. The Avengers would sometimes bring back presents when they went overseas. They didn’t always have the time to stop by a gift shop but when they did, the gifts were always cherished and held a little closer when the Avenger eventually had to travel again. 

Two weeks before his mission, you had gotten very close with Sam. Your daddies asked him to watch over you one day and he gave you a whole adventure. He took you to a pottery painting studio, then the park, and ended the day with the best ice cream you’ve ever had. From then on, you were inseparable. 

During group meal times, you’d make jokes with him across the table. If you were allowed in the room for a meeting, you’d pass notes back and forth. Sam would also play with you during Tony’s summer parties; he was going to let you fly with redwing before Bucky marched outside and confined you to his hip for the rest of the night. You didn’t mind too much though, the sky probably wasn’t as comfortable as being held by Baba. 

Your attachment to Sam made this mission all the more difficult for everyone involved. You, because you missed your friend. Sam, because he missed your happy giggles and felt bad for leaving you right when he finally gained your trust. And your daddies because they had to witness you get sad every time something reminded you of Sam. 

Fortunately, the mission was going well and he was expected to return right on time. On his last day, Sam was looking both ways to cross the street when a stuffed animal in a display window caught his eye. He looked at his watch to see if he had enough time to make his flight, then quickly entered the store and bought the plushie because he knew you’d love it. 

On the plane, Sam sat with the plushie in his lap to keep it safe. It was still in the bag from the store, looking like an oddly shaped lump in a now wrinkly paper bag. When Sam returned to the tower, Steve was the first to greet him before you nudged your Dada out of the way to give Sam a bone-crushing hug. 

“I missed you, Sammy!”

“I missed you too, peanut.” He kneeled down and handed you the paper bag. “I gotcha something.”

You beamed at him. “Thank you! I love it!”

Sam laughed. “You haven’t even opened it yet!”

“I already know I’m gonna like it because it’s from you,” you said, matter of factly. “But okay.”

You opened the bag and gasped when you saw the plush. 

It was a soft turtle with a slightly slouched posture, but that wasn’t the part you were focused on. Your favorite part was the plushie’s grumpy expression. It looked just like Bucky. 

“HE HAS BABA FACE! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!” You screamed your gratitude while running circles around the trio of Sam and your daddies. Sam and Steve were barely holding in their laughter, meanwhile Bucky stood confused, but happy that you were happy. Despite his super hearing, he wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly. Did you say baba face? Or maybe you said bubble face?  

Bucky figured that this wasn’t something he needed the answers to immediately, so he didn’t ask any questions and resolved to watching you tire yourself out. 

The grumpy turtle became your new shadow. Everywhere you went, so did the plush. You’d have it tucked under your arm while running through the compound. During mealtimes in your home, the turtle would get his own chair and toy food. Outside, you kept your turtle in a drawstring backpack with the head poking out so he could see the world too. When your daddies carried you around, you’d make a silly game out of making the turtle mess up your Dada’s hair or bite your Baba’s ears. 

Even before giving you the turtle, Sam loved to boast about how he was your favorite Avenger(you didn’t have a favorite, but you didn’t have the heart to correct him on that when he kept giving you all of his attention). When you all played hide and seek, he bragged for three days straight about how you chose him to be your partner. Your attachment to the turtle only heightened his pride. 

He always asked you where the turtle was, knowing it couldn’t be more than three feet away from you. Sam made a big fuss about the turtle having his own seat at the dinner table and fell victim to your strength and contagious giggles when you pushed him out of his seat to make room for your turtle. Sam learned his lesson that day and didn’t fight for the turtle to have his own chair in the debriefing room. However, he did bring in an extra stool for the plush. Sam even bought you the very drawstring backpack that allowed you to take your new friend on your outdoor adventures. In private, he’d ask you about how the turtle was settling into his new home and gave him the gentlest kiss when you said the turtle needed more lovin’. 

The others all thought your friendship with Sam was adorable, but there was one person who saw this as an opportunity for some friendly competition. Natasha knew that there was room in your heart for more than one avenger bestie, so she devised a plan to take her spot. She had two missions in August–the first: survey a crime group that’s suspected to have ties with Zemo. The second: give you a gift worthy of four days of bragging. 

After successful recon, Natasha’s plane landed in the Avenger’s HQ. She turned in her paperwork that she completed on the flight home, then went to freshen up so she could give you your gift. Natasha found you cuddled up with Steve in the movie room watching some old cartoon. She knocked on the door.

“Got any room for a couple more friends on that couch?”

“Natty, you’re back!” You untangled yourself from Steve and ran to give her a hug. You looked behind her expecting to see more of the group. “Where’s the other friends?”

She held up a bag with the arm that wasn’t hugging you. “Your new friend traveled a long way to get here.”

You squealed and hugged Natasha again before accepting the bag from her hand and kneeling on the floor to pull out the tissue paper and free your gift. 

“You guys are spoiling them, you know that?” Steve asked, lightheartedly from the couch.

“Oh hush, how many hours of screen time have you given them today?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth a couple times, not expecting the question.

“Doesn’t count if the movies came from your time, right?” 

Any response from Steve was cut off by your cheering. 

“BABA OCTOPUS!! BABATOPUS!!” you held up the plush proudly like it was Simba. “Dada, look!”

“Oh he’s beautiful, baby.” Steve chuckled at the round, bright red octopus plush with a deep frown on its face. “What do you say to Nat?”

“THANK YOU NAAAT!” you yelled. Excitement flickered across your face once more, then you ran out of the movie room with the octopus securely tucked under your arm.

“Where are you going, baby? And no running indoors!” Steve shouted as he chased after you. 

You slowed for a bit, but kept moving at a swift pace. “I hav’ta show Baba my new friend!”

Natasha watched your little race from the movie room with an amused grin on her face. During dinner that night, she enjoyed the shocked look on Sam’s face when you pulled up with two grumpy plushies and pretended to feed the octopus before the turtle.

Sam turned to Natasha. “You have no idea what you’ve just started.”

She smirked. “And you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

Steve leaned over to whisper to Bucky. “We’re gonna need more space in the playroom.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

The competition expanded beyond Natasha and Sam. All of the Avengers were determined to find the next grumpy plush to win your heart. There was a penguin from Peter, a frog from Thor, a cat from Tony, and a panda from Wanda. Your collection was starting to get out of control. You desperately wanted to carry all of your plushies everywhere with you to keep things fair, but your daddies put an end to that when you tripped on the sidewalk while trying to push a stroller full of scowling stuffed animals. 

Bucky decided to help you create a system so you could fairly pick one plushie from the collection to carry around for the day. He made small slips of paper so you could write down their names and pull one out of a cup each morning. He brought his supplies to you while you were having an afternoon snack at the dining table. His heart broke seeing you with your knees bandaged up and the streaks of dried tears from the fall earlier today still on your face.

“Hi, Baba,” you sniffled.

“Hey, sweetie. What’s going on? You eatin’ your snack?”

“Mhm.”

“Why aren’t you eating at the kitchen island, baby? You always eat your snack there.”

You pouted and gestured to the plushies sitting around you. “I can’t fit all my friends there.”

“Oh I know, bubs. It must be so hard carrying all these guys around, huh?” He mentally scolded himself for leaving you alone during your snack. He should’ve known better than to expect you to stay put when your little friends were trapped inside the stroller. It must’ve taken so long to arrange the plushies around the table with your injury. 

You perked up at his next words. 

“Baba has something for you.” Bucky spread out the slips of paper on the table and placed a cup next to them. “You can write down the names of all your little friends on these papers and pick one name out of the cup to decide which one you’re walking around with for the day. Does that sound fair?”

You shrugged, “I guess I can do that.” You really would’ve liked a solution that allowed you to bring all of the grumpy plushies with you everywhere, but deep down you knew that it just wasn’t practical. You took the pencil that Bucky held out for you and started writing down your plushies’ names.

Your Baba lovingly kissed the top of your head and rubbed your back while you wrote. He loved watching you focus on a task. He almost didn’t notice what you were writing down.

Bucky squinted then blinked a couple of times, not believing what he saw. “Baby, why are you writing ‘Baba’ on everything?”

You paused and tilted your head back to look at him. “That’s their names. Baba Turtle and Baba Cat and Baba Bear and Baba-”

“Why do you call them that?”

“‘Cause look!” You picked up the grumpy frog sitting next to you and held it out for Bucky to see. “They look like Baba!” You hugged the plushie before setting it back down to continue writing. 

Bucky’s heart melted. His sweet, wonderful baby was so attached to these plushies that reminded them of him. His signature scowl that often got him into trouble brought them comfort. His friends even noticed and spoiled his baby rotten with even more of these toys. 

Bucky continued watching you work. He looked at the plushies differently now. 

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

Steve and Bucky were cleaning your playroom. Normally this would be your responsibility, but you had gone to bed a little earlier, and they didn’t want you walking too much with your injury. Steve was putting your plushies into their designated bins. He wasn’t harsh with them, but his efficient method of gathering an armful and plopping them down certainly would have raised an eyebrow from you. 

“Hey, go easy with turtle me,” Bucky teased. 

“Turtle you?” Steve asked. 

Bucky nodded proudly, then held the plush up to his face. “Don’t you see the resemblance?” 

“Whatever, punk. At least my face isn’t the reason we have a 50 gallon bin of stuffed animals.” Steve turned around and kept cleaning, completely missing the look of excitement on Bucky’s face. 

The next day, your Baba volunteered to pick up breakfast while Steve helped you get ready. Bucky stopped by a toy store on his way to the bakery. He’d seen this particular plushie before and knew that this was the perfect moment to get it for you. Not too long later, he was entering your home with bagels in one hand and your new friend in the other. 

Bucky hid the plush behind his back when he heard you and Steve walking towards him. 

“Hi, Baba!”

“Good morning, baby.” Bucky leaned down to kiss your forehead, then kissed Steve’s cheek as a thanks when he handed off the box of bagels. 

You hugged Bucky and couldn’t help but notice that one of his hands wasn’t hugging you back. 

“Baba, hug me better,” you whined. 

Bucky laughed. “Hang on, I’ve got somethin’ for ya.”

You gasped in excitement and took a step back so you could see. Bucky revealed the plush with a dramatic flourish, then somewhat nervously waited for your reaction. The stuffed animal had you in shock. It was a stuffed giraffe that stood with the most perfect posture. It had spiky hair, blue eyes, and a charming smile. You knew exactly who it was supposed to resemble. 

“IT'S DADA!” You squealed and graciously took the plush while running to the kitchen where Steve was. He was already making his way to you when he heard your scream. 

“Dada’s right here, bubba. What’s going on?”

You held up the plush while doing a little dance. “Look! It’s a Dada giraffe!”

Steve laughed then ran a hand over his face when he made the connection. You ran off to your playroom, saying something about “finding a Baba for this Dada” while your daddies shared a look. 

Bucky brought in Steve for a hug, patting his dumbfounded lover on the back. He playfully whispered in his ear, “We’re gonna need more space in the playroom.”

#stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #gn!little!reader #oneshot #fluff #sfw regression #agere fic #marvel agere #sfw agere #baba face #baba-face #toosh writes #plushie fic #stuffie fic

[popponn]

note: happy birthday fishman. please just come home already. i want to poke this cutie a lot.

you stare in disbelief at the pile of plushies in your hands, then at the empty ever-rotating crane game machine, then finally at the half-fish half-man who you get the pleasure of calling employer and boyfriend.

"...how?" you ask, still dumbfounded.

rafayel—who casually keeps a finger gun pose shamelessly in the middle of a public arcade—smirks even wider, "who do you think you are talking to?"

"someone who always misses the plushies," you answer quickly without a missing beat, before adding an afterthought, "usually. on every turn."

this response immediately makes him drop the finger gun away from his chin. changing it into a childish (and very adorable) hands on the hips pose. as animated as his gestures are, his face morphs into a pout, "hey. that's just me holding back so this place could still have a business."

"..." you doubt it, really.

"what does that face mean?" rafayel's eyebrows frown even further—which serves as enough warning that you probably should start giving him praises or you will have another spiel of how "you don't love him and even the jellyfishes that eat grass agrees with that". no one wants a repeat of that.

and also, you love him enough to think a preening smug rafayel is better than a pouting annoyed one.

"it means—" you poorly try to hide your smile, "—that i am very thankful that a really handsome guy gets me all of this. so much that i couldn't believe it."

predictably, the air around rafayel soon matches a peacock more than a fish. "hmph! good!" he says, in a manner that sounds like he will demand some spoiling the moment the two of you get home. or so you think, before he opens his mouth again and eyes the other machine a few steps behind you, "why don't you let this handsome guy get another round of plushies for you then?"

(five minutes and eight rounds later, the plushies in that other machine remain untouched.)

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x y/n #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace imagines #drabbles #congrats homura you finally get five plushies and get me that achievement. and for me to writing a proper lads fic that is not a scenario #after many many “this is for you girlie” *misses* moments. you are precious #happy birthday babyboy. i will try to finish all your audio drama soon.

[pjs-everyday]

Even Sturdy Hero: Red Riot can’t avoid innuendos or plushies with vacant stares… oh well!!

#Mina wears the pin on her hero suit bakugo clips the plushie on his belt for a good month 😭 #friends am I right? #eijirou kirishima #mina ashido #katsuki bakugo #red riot #dynamight #kiribaku #kirimina #bakumina #mha #bnha #my hero headcanons #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha fanart #mha fic #bnha fanart #pjseveryday #illustration #art #sketchbook #digital illustration #fanart #anime art

[ceruleancattail]

Eels

Jade Leech x reader

Jade’s fingers were slender.

Clasping a needle within them, he jabbed lightly at the felt. Moving the silver needle swimmingly through the soft fabric, weaving small, neat stitches across it. He moved with effortless ease, rapidly making his way through the piece of cloth within his grip.

You watch his hands, enthralled by the precision of his every move. Calculated, even strokes of that thin needle in his hand, wielded with all the elegance of a rapier. Although it seemed to slow, after a while. You could hear a faint chuckle slipping out of Jade’s lips then.

Setting the cloth down, a finger reaches for your nose. Tapping it ever so lightly, sending a coolness into your skin. As you scrunch your nose up in protest, Jade does his best to stifle a laugh behind his hand. Goodness, you look adorable startled. However, as cute as you were, Jade can’t be the only one working on the plushies, unfortunately.

It was your idea, after nearly doubling over at the prices of the Aquarium souvenirs. Goodness, plush toys were rather expensive nowadays, weren’t they? Now, Jade wouldn’t have minded paying for your share, but you were insistent on making your own.

When Jade questioned you about this sudden… determination, your lips trembled ever so slightly. A faint tint of pink blooming to life on both of your cheeks. How curious… now, you do know he prides himself on being an informant of sorts for Octavinelle, hm?

Keep your little secrets away, love. Before he decides to pry them out of your pretty hands himself. Jade pokes and prods, arms wrapped around your torso. His chin on your shoulder, a low, velvety voice purring into your ear. Maybe he’ll have a nibble or two, if only to hear you yelp.

Why so stubborn, angelfish?

Wouldn’t you like to tell dear old Jade?

Hm?

Flushed fully scarlet, trapped in Jade’s loving, tight embrace, there wasn’t much choice for you. Cheeks burning red, you whisper back to Jade, voice tinged with embarrassment:

“There weren’t any moray eel plushies in that store… I wanted something to remind me of you.”

Now that was a surprise. How sweet of you, dearie, to think about him. Although it does make him a little sad. Why go so far to hug an eel, when he’s already here for you? How cruel of you.

To placate your drama-eel, you proposed making matching plushies. The little ones, connected to a small chain. To be carried around, a matched set. How romantic. Jade readily agreed then.

Although now, you seem a little too focused on him to work on your own plush. Gently guiding your hands towards your very own piece of felt, Jade nudges your palm into the soft material. He holds it there a little longer than necessary, but could you really blame him? You’re warm, delightfully so.

He could feel the beat of your heart press against his. Your pulse beating rapidly, combining with his very own. The rhythm of two hearts, blending into one smoothing melody. Pursing his lips, Jade hums a tune, soft and sweet.

Much like the gaze he gave you, a tender sight. Hopefully some of that warmth could be transferred into the heart of that plushie. So even when you weren’t around, Jade had something to hold. Something to keep his heart placated, until you came back. Until he could have you in his arms again.

“Come on, darling.” Jade pats your hand softly.

“The eel isn’t going to get seen by himself.”

He lifts up his own eel, felt as soft as the beach’s golden sand. Pushing it gently towards you, making it nuzzle into your cheek softly.

“You won’t want to leave plush me all alone now, would you?”

A rustle of cloth, as Jade leaned closer towards you. The ghost of his breath brushing against your cheek, far softer than any felt would ever be. You could feel the plush of his lips graze your skin ever so gently, moving with every word that slipped right pass his lips:

“I’ll be miserable without you to kiss, angelfish.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Jade leech #Jade leech x reader #Jade #Jade x reader #lucky potion 🔷 #this was supposed to be another aquarium fic but the idea of Jade and his lovely angelfish making matching plushies together was an idea #too cute not to write #matching eels #with the silly guy

[pedge-page]

Plushies 6 - MooMoo

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Plushies Series Masterlist but Can be read as standalone

Summary: you surprise Joel for your 2 year anniversary by being the fuckable plushie tonight.

Warnings: literally 99.9% smut. Unprotected sex (she is on the pill but they’re playing with the idea of it failing), BREEDING KINK, pregnancy kink, plushie milk sucking (? You’ll see); nipple pumps, nipple play, nipple orgasm, boobjob, oral m-receiving, squirting, cream pie, belly bulge, no breastfeeding but Joel has a breastfeeding kink (obviously!), Daddy kink, spitting, bimbofication, lots of cow talk, praises you and degrades you, cringe ass language overall for these horny fucks

18+ ONLY

- - - -

It's getting pretty bad now that every time you see your pile of plushies in the room, your panties dampen. And you can’t really avoid them because Joel’s been adding to the mountain of stuffed animals with every excuse to get you a gift.

And then outright making you cum on them before he’s ripped the tag off.

You suspect Joel also gets equally as hard by them too, with all the interesting things he’s been sharing since starting your Plushie-sex journey. He’s pretty quiet and reserved any other time, even during regular sex. But when all your little beady stuffed animals start getting involved…

You’re startled by a gentle knock at the door. “You okay in there, sweet pea?” 

“Mhm! I’m almost ready!”

You both just got back from a fabulous date—ready to seal the night with passionate sex. And you’ve planned the perfect 2 year anniversary gift for him.

You stare in the mirror in your new “outfit” to surprise Joel’s loins: naked, save for a spotted felt ear headband, a leather collar with a big golden bell dangling from your neck, knee high white and black spotted stockings, and a slutty garter body harness speckled in black splotches. The straps dip and curve over your hips with cute ribbons on the waist, snaking under your soft parts, accentuating your breasts, tummy, thighs, ass—everything that Joel finds bitable. 

^photos + product by GlamourIsTheEndGame on Etsy

When you finally walk out into the bedroom with all the might your tiny little harness could muster, Joel’s eyes finally land on you. You smile at him with a sultry, pretty, and far from innocent smile.

"I was thinking maybe I could be your plushie for tonight,” you say, pushing your breasts out with your arms drawn tight, and shaking a little so he can see them sway and hear the jingle of the bell bounce over your collarbone.

Ok, so you know the scenes in Tom&Jerry where Tom sees a female cat, and his eyes bug out cartoonishly and jaw falls down to the ground?

Yeah, that’s Joel right now.

His jaw is so slacked it might unhinge itself. Eyes straining because they can’t go any fucking wider, and his pupils literally so blackened, you wouldn’t know he had baby brown eyes.  

You’re standing there very expectedly, waiting.

Waiting.

… waiting.

Say something you kinky bastard, damnit NowILookLikeAFool—!

Your nerves are starting to curl in on themselves...maybe you don’t look as sexy as you’d hoped...

“Um…if… if you don’t like it—I mean if you wanted to pick up a stuffie instead…”

The man takes advantage of your brief embarrassment and jumps you, shoving you against the wall and caging your legs around his hips.

“Oh!”

You whimper as the unmistakable bulge of his package presses hungrily, slipping past the little string and nudging your wet clit.

He glues his lips to yours, devouring your tongue. It’s extra hungry, extra needy tonight than usual. His lips twitch with the rumbling growl reverberating deep in his chest. 

“You’re so fucking sexy holy fucking shit baby-jesusssssss look at you— fuckfuckfuck I’m so lucky, luckylucky bastard—FUCK ME—you’re mine? You’re actually fucking mine????”

You giggle, confidence surging again as his hands struggling to grab every bit of you all at once. Holding you captive nonetheless, eyes raking over in wonder and astonishment.

“I’m all yours, Daddy,” you hum sensually. You grab his hands and bring them to curl along your harness, under the straps to feel your skin all hot and tingly. Begging for his touch.

“Happy fucking Anniversary to me.”

Joel scoops you up and sits on the bed, immediately having you straddle him. You grind down on his tent poking up between your cheeks. His fingers dig into your thighs when he feels the flutter of your folds.

He knows you feel as sexy as you look. 

“Gonna be my cow slut tonight, huh? You know what good little cow sluts do?”

“Suck cock?” You ask cheekily, preparing to sink down to your knees to pleasure him with your mouth.

He lets out a happy sigh. You’re ready to move, your teeth sucking in your lower lip, but he stops you, instead choosing to pin you closer to his body. His voice drops an octave:

“They birth and they milk.”

They—what? “Um—come again?”

“Breeding, baby. That’s what we’re doing tonight.”

He knows you’re on the pill, so it’s not like you’re really trying to get pregnant…but the thought of getting knocked up tonight sends a particularly dangerous chill down your spine. He never uses a condom so the chances are still….there. Every night. Each time he blows his fat load deep inside you; like a good little cumdump, he says. 

Why not indulge his fantasy tonight?

“You wanna breed me, Daddy?” You tease, hips swaying along his clothed member, dancing along your slit.

“Mmmm, yeahhh. Shit, baby. You’d look so good pregnant. And these—“ he grits his teeth, fingers pinching the straps that circle your mounds, watching them squish together, “—Are gonna fill up with so much milk, gonna feed me with your delicious cunt and sweet milk 24/7.”

You want to slap the smug look off his face, but now’s not the time. It’s time to get those pouty lips on your breasts and the cock in your cunny.

“Better start getting them open so I can satisfy that big thirst of yours.”

On cue, his lips wrap around your nipples, kneading your tits in his big rough hands. You start bouncing steadily along his cock. He’s domineering and digging into your skin harshly, teeth overly excited and sinking into your pebbled nips while he grinds up against your heat.

He’s biting and sucking so hard, asking-PLEADING-for your milk.

Milk that is definitely not there!

"Ouch! Joel I'm not going to give you milk, we’re just—playing—I’m not actually pregnant!"

But the THOUGHT of you exactly like this but stuffed full of a baby, just imagining your tits all round and belly bursting, the garter harness pulling tight against your skin and your tits poking out with that big heavy swell of your tummy making you look like his own breeding stock.

Desperate whines rush out of his mouth in a string of babbling: “I can get ya pregnant, please? Pleasepleaseplease darling let me put a baby in you— breed ya so good, just look at ya, could get ya knocked up, just think how cute you'd look gettin' all round with my calves grown in that tumtum. Fuck! what a sight, showing off to everyone our hard work breeding, evidence of our love making, and these titties would just swell n get all heavy with all the creamy delicious milk ya could give me like the best momma n—“

Your palm splats against his mouth to shut him up. “Slow down, cowboy. We aren’t having a real baby any time soon. We don't even live together yet..."

"Then move in with me,” he proposes without hesitation.

You …blink for a moment. His mouth hovers over your breast again but you drag him up to look you in the eyes—so you know he's not just fucking around.

“Really?"

"Yes! Why the fuck do we still have separate homes? I'm here all the time anyway. Plus, takin' care of all those plushie pets must be exhausting on your own, they're partially my kids anyway so.”

"You really want to live together?"

"Yeah. Yeah I do.” 

You and Joel were a ‘take it one day at a time’ trusting kind of love, but right now as you stare into his heart-shaped eyes, you can see your whole future together. The kind of earth shattering reality that’s never been more clear and more desirable than this moment. 

“I—“

“Don’t gotta give me an answer right now. Wanna ask ya again when we’re—less horny. So you know I’m bein’ serious.”

You grin and kiss him.

“Show me a good anniversary night and I’ll give a good thought-over.”

“Oh babygirl,” he tuts. “Think you were gonna be the only one showin’ me a good time? I got ya something too, sweetheart. Gonna go perfect with ya cow slut theme ya got goin’ on.”

You don’t know what he could possibly have that could “match” your very specific cow themed sex outfit—

Unless its more cows.

So when he sits you on the bed, stumbling over his shoes because he can’t take his eyes off you, Joel equally surprises you with a box of cow themed gifts—little calf beanie babies, which are conveniently jerry-rigged to two separate nipple pumps with their little snouts pointing towards the  suction cups, and a cow plush toy that has a compartment in the top to pour milk in, complete with rubber “practice” utters for farmer kids to learn milking.

“I swear, I had no idea you were gonna be dressed as slutty cow momma for me. I just—saw this shit online and thought my girl needed to be drinking some cow titties when I fuck her swollen cow tits.”

“We’re so in sync,” you muse, shaking your head with an amused smirk. 

Its honestly should be... kinda concerning.

He sits back next to you on the mattress, shoving some of your animals off the edge. You instinctively crawl atop his thighs again, and his hands settle once more protectively around your waist. You stare down at him, his sinful lips practically begging to get sucked while that lidded lustful gaze lulls you in a trance. The Joel Miller spell is wordlessly working on you again—and you know you’re gonna be cracking and doing anything this man says within a few shorts minutes.

You beam at each other tenderly, unable to help the genuine happy crinkle at your lips as you kiss him softly.

Then it starts:

"Can ya moo for me?"

You roll your eyes. Not quite doing anything he says so soon.  “Fuck no I'm not doin that shit again for you. You want a farm, go get one yourself."

"Please Angel?" He plants wet kisses along your jaw before giving two fat ones on top of your breasts.

"Still no."

He groans, but continues to nip at your breasts like a scolded child. "Can I fuck your big mommy milkin' cow titties?”

“There is no milk!” You snap. You’re ready to throw the whole idea away, but his persistent hold around your waist and cock nudging your throbbing puss is making it difficult to resist him for long.

His big brown chocolate lab eyes bleed into your horny little soul. “C’mon, MooMoo, for Daddy?” 

“I am NOT your MooMoo—“

He jingles the bell dangling from your neck. “Ya’sure sound like my MooMoo.”

you clench your fist around his shirt and take a deep breath. "Fine, Fine! Whatever."

"Say it."

"You can—ugh—fuck my big... mommy milking cow titties." You face feels so hot with embarrassment, but Joel purrs with such satisfaction that you feel even WORSE how much you don't hate it. 

Since when did the double entendre of being called his "kitty" and "puppy" when Joel fucks you and your animal themed plushies become his "moo moo girl"?

He grins with such a dirty, perverted look about him. Continues to kiss over your mounds, massaging the muscles in your back so you don’t notice when he bends over you to grab his homemade breast pumps.

He looks at you sideways with expectant hope in his eyes. 

You roll your eyes again. Of course he can’t just get a normal titjob and blow his load in your mouth. There’s always some fucking thing else you gotta do. But with the way his cock pulses under your drooping pussy, you decisively snatch it from his hands and get to work just so that he’ll call you his slutty cow again. 

“That’s my girl,” he groans, rubbing along your hips excitedly. He holds them in your hand and exhales hot air over the cups so they aren’t cold against your skin.

The clear tubes are narrow, obviously meant to resemble that of utters rather than actually breastfeeding from a bottle. You stick them on each tit, and very quickly Joel is pumping the little hand squeeze that starts to suction the small space of air into the connecting wire.

You gasp at the sensation. Slowing latching on, the small of your breasts are pointing inward towards the pumps, sticking up on their own now as Joel continues to suck the air out. 

You hiss a strangled moan. The sensation isn’t—bad. It’s like an invisible hand is dry vacuuming your pebbles.

“Fuck—fuck look at that,” he growls. “Your nipples are sooooooooooo fucking suckable right now.”

You look down and see their hardened state reaching out into nothing. As more of your flesh and tissue gets sucked in, pressing tightly, trying to fill the small space, the pain mixes with pleasure. Joel’s continually nipping at your chest with lidded eyes glued to the scene helps spread the multiple sensations your body is feeling.

“There’s not gonna be any milk,” you warn again, shifting uncomfortably in his lap. Your breath hitches in your throat when you get to a particularly suffocating phase of tightness in your breast.

He casts a sorrowful grin before yanking the pumps off together with a loud SCHMOP.

You screech unexpectedly, rolls of pleasure sparking through your chest, up to your brain then right down to your tummy and cunt, your eyes rolling back as you collapse forward on to him.

You’re both quiet for a moment save for your heavy pants. Until you feel a wetness growing on his pants.

“Joel—did you—?”

He laughs out, “No baby, that was all you.”

Your cheeks go warm in embarrassment, looking down to confirm that you had actually squirted onto his jeans just from getting your nipples suctioned.

“Didn’t know ya titties were so sensitive…” he goads.

You shake your head and nudge it into his neck—because you didn’t know you could squirt just from getting your breasts suctioned either. 

“Shhh, I know. I know baby, just breathe. Little titties are so sore, but we gotta get them ready to start feeding from. S’not my fault you’re just a little slut, so hungry to be a momma—don’t you worry, Daddy Bull is gonna make it happen. Ya can squirt your little juices all you want when I breed your cunt like my own personal livestock.”

You have half the mind to tell him again there is no baby to be feeding any time soon, and you sure as heck weren’t his livestock to be bred, and had nothing to say about "Daddy Bull", but with the harsh throbbing along your nipples, dragging sensitively against his cotton shirt, you don’t care to do anything else but drool and hump your weeping clit against his soaked thighs.

 “Let Daddy see his work,” he mumbles into your throat with a kiss.

You sit up again with his assistance. 

He groans heartily at the sight of your swollen, redden tips poking from your boobs. “Jesus fuck, MooMoo.” He rubs his thumb over your mounds and you wince away. “They hurt?” He laugh sadistically.

You cover your lips with the back of your palm, unwilling to let him see your delirious heaving. Your pussy throbs desperately for more his unique torture. “You….bastard…”

He soothes over the swollenness, groping your breasts and telling you how they’ll be sore like this all the time when they start filling with milk. How he’s gonna breed you so full of calves you’ll be bursting milk on your own, and he’s gonna lap it all up to keep you happy.

You don’t know why you keep letting him put the pumps back on. He doesn’t try to rip them off like before, but keeps bringing you close with tight compresses before letting air quickly filter in again. The little cow beanies bob up and down with each deep breath you force through your nose, eyes glittering up so innocently. You’re trying to ignore the equal throb in your untouched clit as the ones in your overstimulated perky nips.

Once they’ve swelled to a level of his satisfaction…

“MooMoo…”

“Huh…”

“Time for cow titty fucking.”

He throws you down on your back in the heap of your plushies. Wasting no time pulling his stiff member out of his jeans, he pumps a few times with one hand. Like a professional Joel wraps his belt tightly around your wrists, like a cowboy expertly tying his prize calf he just lassoed in. 

You twist your legs to hide the leaking drip of slick sliding down to your ass. Your head leans to the side, arms thrown behind you so you can see him, biting your lips and furrowed brows of want, admiring his physique when he pulls his shirt off with a satisfied grin. 

“Fuck me, cowboy,” you hum, shifting your bum up  and spreading your legs so he can see your swollen slit twitching up at him.

But he throws your legs down and cages you under him. “I’m makin’ a mess of those god damn Mommy milkers first. Then your cunt gets whatever Daddy Bull has left.”

DaddyBullDaddyBullDaddyBull, you chant in over and over again your dumb little cow brain...

Oh Christ, tonight’s gonna be wild.

You watch him crawl over your body, fisting his leaking member over your chest. You want it, licking your lips in anticipation, pushing your boobs together with your arms to entice him. He twists the bell-collar so its dangling off the side of your shoulder before placing his leaking tip right at your lips, smearing his precum. Moaning at that fucking taste of Joel you’d been craving all day. You lap at the saltiness, begging him to force it deep into your mouth, but all he does is rub it over your lips, your tongue peaking out to get it nice and wet for him.

His cock falls right in the valley as you smoother it with your supple breasts. “Soft titties all mine to play with? You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck them?”

He starts thrusting, suffocating his cock between your tits. With one hand, he’s pulling the harness roped around your body tight like he's riding a God damn horse, the other still possessively pumping the nipple suction cups so they squeeze harder around your precious tits. His balls rub along your sternum while he bounces his hips, rocking back and forth again and again, making a sticky mess of his arousal and your drool all over your chest.

"Angel, imagine how fucking good this is gonna feel when these pups are filled to the brim with Daddy's milk.”

You nod dumbly. “Want you to fill them, Daddy. Want you inside,” you moan. Your head leans forward as you try to suck in his tip each time it poked through your boobs. 

Joel lets out a shaky breath, trying hard not to blow his load too soon. Though the sight of your face and cowbell all sticky with his creamy spent has him drawing away quickly, a firm grip wrapped around the base to hold his twitching balls from releasing his seed just yet. 

You cry out, tongue chasing his retreating tip. 

“You ready to be my little cocksleeve plushie tonight?” He asks, raking his nails over your chest and belly, raised red trails marking you in their leave.

“I’m ready Daddy, fuck me like your dirty whore!”

He spits a fat gob of saliva right on to your slit before rubbing it over with his thick tip. You don’t need the extra lubrication due to how drenched you are, and the sweet squirting you did earlier, but oh how he admires the way it mingles with your juices and slides down your ass.

He rips the cow patterned garter ribbon from the waist buckle and wraps it around your calves, sticking your legs straight, and pulls your ankles taught. You’re completely tied off at his mercy, like cattle being tamed. He hoists your legs straight up in the air, his bare cock grinding against your wet heat.

"D-daddy!"

He leans your straight legs against his left shoulder and peers down over you: messy lipstick, bound wrists pulled together and straight to your stomach, pushing your tits even closer,  and the harness does nothing but give each one an immaculate show of perkiness. Paired with the tight press that the pumps are still holding your nipples captive.

He decides to show you some mercy by removing the tubes. He kneads their swollen state at the same time his cock rubs along your slick folds.

“T’Thank you, Daddy Bull,” you puff.

“Good girl. Didn’t even have to remind you,” he praises with gentle strokes of your cheeks.  “Your little calf babies are full now. Time for DaddyBull to spend time with Momma.”

You hope he doesn’t see the way your stomach clenches at being called Momma—a kink you’re shelving for much much later.

He’s got such stamina to be still gliding himself along your pussy but not penetrating just yet. Your brows are scrunched together in a plea and desperation, and those little cow ears are flopped back into the mess of softness. Softness that surrounds you, that innocent feel of cute plushy fur and cotton all rubbing against your body below you despite the numbing throb in your breasts and cunt. 

He puts his fingers in your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his digits, getting them wet before he’s drooping them down your puffy lips, down your breasts each with a squeeze, trailing warmly over your belly before coming to the place where he’s about to impale you.

Your entire body is thrumming with need.

He takes the moment to see how wrecked you already are for him—and to savor your body, knowing he’s gonna breed you so good one day and everything is gonna swell, like a stamp of ownership.

“You’re so fucking breedable,” he whispers in awe of your body. You don’t think he meant to say it out loud, but it turns you on all the more to hear his inner thoughts that would most likely scare away other women.

Not you though. You shutter at the thought of it taking, of making something evident of all the fucking and cum dumping he’s been giving you.

The pornographic gasp you let out as he slides his cock over your folds, between your squished thighs. Your slick lathering his length, prepping him and teasing your clit with long strokes. You whine as his mushroom tip glistens with precum, poking through your thighs then retreating. Getting your hopes up and holding it there sadistically.

"Don't gotta do nothin' tonight for me, sweet pea. Just gotta hold on for the ride."

You're not ready when he latches at your entrance and thrusts in all at once. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as he fills your gut with his fat cock, stretching you in the best way only Joel Miller knows.

“Ahhh--ah!—f—f—fuuuccccckkkkkkkk!”

Joel Miller does have a Bull sized cock. More evident now stretching your little hole than you’d ever truly thought before.

The position is so restraining, leaving you no way to move or adjust - just take take take take his pounding. You both groan at the sight of his tip ballooning in your lower belly with each thrust. 

He throws his arm over your straight thighs and thumbs over your swelled naval. "Fuuucccckk look at that, look at that!"

"S-ssoooooo deeeeeeppp," you wreathe, lips curling in delirium.

“Yeah-yeah babygirl, gotta stretch you—get ya ready to hold my calves huh? Gotta make room for them to pop out—“

“M—mnot—pregnant,” you rasp hoarsely, eyes closing when he starts angling his hips up and rutting along the gummy part in your cunt.

“I’ll make it happen, don’t you worry your little brain.” He laughs. “You like getting stuffed like your stuffies. Turned you into a proper fuck toy—mm—there we go—but you’re always gonna be my favorite toy to hump, to fill, to own." He forces each word out with each rut. “You’re so fucking good at being a soft whore for me to use, all precious and pretty on the outside. Just another one of these plushie sluts on this bed,” he grunts.

You stick your tongue out dreamily and smile, fingers getting lost in the scattered stuffed animals surrounding you with their soft, fluffy textures and hard or squishy bodies. 

It feels really good to have 0 thoughts and just get fucked like a cow plushie.

He kisses your ankles soothingly, almost pathetically attempting to distract you from the sudden lash of his palm slapping against your ass.

“DADDY—shit!” You whimper. He doesn’t love the way you instinctively try to squirm away from him, but with how tied up you are, continually impaled on his throbbing length, you have nowhere to go. 

He continues to spank you, the same spot, fingers splayed wide until his reddened print is left etched into your skin "Gotta brand ya baby, make sure everyone knows who owns this body.”

Lewd noises of wet skin slapping, and the little cow bell clanking on your neck fill the room along with your pathetic whimpers and Joel's repressed grunts.

"Yeah? You like daddy's bull cock ramming that tight little Moo Moo pussy?"

“Yea- ohh-f—fuck yes Bull Daddy, cock so good, fuck— nobody stretches me—ah shit!Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes—m’gonna be bred so fucking full Daddy fuck yes!”

“My little cow breedin’ bitch,” he hollers. He tears the cute little cow patterned bow from that had held your calves together and quickly parts your legs, shoving your knees up to his shoulders so you’re in full mating press. He continues thrusting aggressively downward. Despite still being bound by the wrist, your elbows part slightly enough to slot him between your arms, slinking your hands over his neck to bring him closer to you.

"Breed me!" You cry, literally cry. He doesn’t relent his rough thrusts despite cooing your tears welling.

 "Gonna take all that bull cum in your slutty womb? Gonna let me put a baby in ya?”

Your walls clench down on him harder in response. The more his thick tip nudges your cervix, the less words you’re able to string together in sentences.

He doesn’t wait for answer—doesn’t think he ever will because he’s dangerously dreamt of impregnating you for so long now, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop the day you said yes. Never bringing it up but fuuuccckkk he can’t stop his confessions from tumbling out: “Shit baby, might take this time. Lookin like my breeding stock n shit, gonna plow ya, you'll milk my cummies in your tummies and then—"

"Jesus Joel stop your yapping and FUCKME.”

"Ya gonna moo for me?"

You're moaning more, but with the way your sockets are rolled to their whites, arching up like the exorcist as he rams himself so deep its puncturing your belly, the sound’s eliciting from your mouth coming out as "mmmmmaaaauuuuhhhhhau-huh-hhuhh-huhhhh!"

He chuckles. "Close enough.”

He grabs the moo plush and shoves its utters in your mouth. You tilt your head to the side and your tongue circles around the rubber part. He almost busts his nut at the gorgeous sight below him: your pretty lashes closed as you suckle from the utters, each little swallow of milk going sown your throat. You're so delirious and cock drunk that you don't care about the trickles of cream dribbling down the corner of your lips. Your tits swollen and red, nipples so perked up they may actually start bleeding milk if he were to play with them any more, and your breasts bounce back and forth with each thrust, the jingle of the cow bell clanking loudly with no sense of tune but with all the hymns of his fucking he can give you. He snaps the garter belt strapped around you like reins, free ruling restraints that only make every bit of you even more voluptuous. Your legs are so strong, thick yet securely plastered together by his knot.

Your brows pinch together as your orgasm builds from your belly, making you arch violently against the pillow.

You pull away from the cow to take a gasp of air. Joel sticks his finger in your mouth and swirls it around. You hum in content, letting him make a mess of your drool and leftover milk spilling out, down your chin and cheeks with his thick digits. He yanks it out and licks it clean.

"Taste so fucking goo—“

"Keep fucking me with Daddys Bull cock fuck daddy I wanna get bred so fucking much wanna be your breeding little cum slut daddy fuck yes! You're so fucking huge, splitting my little moomoo pussy in half poundbreedbreedbreed daddy want all your cummies inside!"

"Fucked ya so dumb. All that ‘no baby, no milky talk.’ Shit! Fuck I'm gonna wreck this pussy, my fucking pussy! Nobody comes inside this sweet little womb but Daddy!"

"Just you just you daddy all yours please brand me make me yours! Oh-oh fuck Daddy yes! I’m cumming , I’m cumming so hard Daddy Bull fuck yesyesysssssyesyesyes!!!” you hiss through gritted teeth.

Your mouth parts as a silent scream is let out into the air. Joel keeps fucking you through your orgasm, his pained gasps while trying to remain sane with your convulsing walls choking his cock, sucking him in so tight he wouldn’t be able to pull out if he pried himself from you. He reaches between you to rub your clit, and your head thrashes about in overstimulation. Hard teeth latch on to your collar bone as you squirt once again all over his cock, streaming to his balls and soaking the bed and poor plushies caught in the crossfire with your naughty juices.

“There’s my slutty girl! Squirt that puss everywhere, want to stain everything with that cunt, my pretty cow girl.”

Joel’s whole body ruts into you like his life depends on it. The bed lurches violently against the wall, plushies falling over the sides like an avalanche while your battered soaked pussy takes the beating of a lifetime from the man who undoubtedly has ruined you and laid claim to your soul for the rest of your life. You hold on with the little strength you have left as he readies to empty his balls into you.

“Shit—shit—oh ff-ffuck baby—Daddy Bull is cummin—gonna breed ya SHIT oh baby,baby,babbyyyy gonna flood ya, you’re gonna take it? Gonna take all that cum—not a drop—haa-left—Gonna knock you up this time-mmmf—fuck! My good cow sluuutt—Baby give it ta me so good, Breed ya full o’me!FUCK!!”

With a final slam, Joel plunges his cock balls deep and shouts into the mattress, pumping his cum as deep into your womb as it could possibly go with thick, fertile ropes flooding every inch of space inside you.

He forces out each harsh, agitated pant into your neck, sweat sticking between the two of you. Your hips are held upright, walls fluttering with each pulse of his dick still unloading inside.

“I love you,” you whisperinto his ear, mind all hazy as you stroke his damp curls. He shudders, relaxing into your embrace, and you welcome the crushing sensation of his body on top of yours.

He pulls away to admire your barely conscious state: stockings all torn up, harness now tattered and  straps broken from their belts, the cow-eared headband snapped in half. Bruises and purple markings and love bites scattered all over your skin, your breasts the most damaged and swollen. He wonders how long it will take to fully heal, and how sensitive those little nipples are going to be for the next few days. Most importantly, he can’t tear his gaze away from the beat of your pussy lips struggling to swallow all of his creamy seed. 

You gasp out when Joel pushes his cock all the way back in, his cum spilling out the sides and coating you but trapping a good amount inside, leaving it nowhere else to go.

“I Love being your cow MooMoo plushplush,” you hum, wiggling your bum and holding him close. 

“How bout this one still?” He grabs the forgotten milker toy and brings the utters between the two of your lips.

Your tongue wraps around one utter and you start suckling the sweetness. 

Joel yanks the toy away.

“Show me.”

You open your lips so he can see the pool of milk filled to the brim, spilling over the dips of your cheeks.

He dips his tongue into your mouth and begins sucking out your split-mixed milk, kissing you passionately so you’re both gulping around each other’s tongues.

Drunk. You feel drunk off him. Off the milk. 

Eventually he pulls away so you can both breathe.

“I mean it.”

You draw away momentarily, wondering. it takes a moment to process anything that the two of you talked about while his cock still twitches in your cum-filled vagina.

You laugh when it hits you. “Yes, I’ll move in with you—“

“—You’re gonna look so fucking beautiful when you’re pregnant.”

You both pause for a moment before bursting out in a fit of giggles.

“Oh, I already knew that,” you taunt.

-

After you sleep for 14 hours straight, you wake up to find your tattered costume is gone, and your body completely naked. You don’t feel as achy as you expected—thanks to Joel probably massaging you in your sleep. Your cunt and breasts, however, are puffy and bruised as hell. You’ll have to restrict sexy time from Joel to just regular, Plushie-free fucking.

Speaking of, there’s an unfamiliar little guy on your bed right under your arm right now: yet another cow plushie, but it’s sooooo much softer, a bit heavier too. You turn it over and switch the little battery pack on, and the animal begins expanding and deflating with gentle breaths, its tummy warm and comforting against your body.

Joel comes in with a cup of tea  placed on your bedside before jumping on the Plushie bed. You poke his face.

“Whaaaat!”

"Joel, you know this is for babies,” you say, gesturing to the new cow breathing cow plush.

Right my babygirl.” He smiles proudly, stroking your face.

"No, like actual babies. It’s a breathing soother to help them sleep. Did you not notice what section you were in when you bought it?”

He looks ahead at the wall for a briefly, revisiting the memory. “Ya know what, that might be why the lady asked if it was for a girl, and I said ya my girl. N’ then she asked 'how old' and I told her ya age and she gave me a weird look.”

Your eyes squeeze tight as you fall back in a fit of cackles. “You were literally in the baby section Joel."

"Ain't all these plushies for kids anyway?” He gestures to the pink, purple, frilly, soft, funny faced squish stuffed animals you have on your bed. “What’s the difference?”

You switch the heavy cow animal on again and the cow starts slowly inflating then deflating with each breath. 

He gets all amazed like the marvels of today's technology far exceed his imagination. “Holy shit it got a real heart in there! No wonder it cost me 60 bucks.”

“Pretty sure a real heart would cost more than 60.”

“Mmm, cost me even more to keep yours.” 

You glance over at Tomm—ahem, Teddy—sitting upright in the corner of the room, the dildo still strapped around his crotch, and at Mr. Oinkers who’s jittery fun was sometimes too much to handle, and at Valentine Puppy that has a permanent white streak in his hair when you tried washing out Joel’s cum, and at every other plush on this bed that has occupied an ever growing space in Joel’s horny head below the waist.

“I don’t love you just cuz of the plushies, you know.”

“Oh? I’ll take them all back then, since ya don’t appreciate—“

“No!” You cry desperately. “I—I love them.” You cold your cow plush close and kiss his head.

 Joel curls up next to you and spoons your body. “But I love you too. Just you.”

He hums in agreement. “I know you do. Who else would dress like that just for fun?”

You cringe at the image of the destroyed cow garter that sits helplessly on the floor. Definitely cost waaaaaay more than $60.

“I can’t wait to move in,” you mumble into the pillow.

“Oh—about that.” 

You lean back and meet his gaze. Was it a farce? Did he not actually want you to move in? Was it jut to get you excited for sex last night? You already feel your heart shattering, knowing its gonna take more than 60 bucks to put it back together—

“While you were sleeping…I brought all my shit here already. Cancelled my lease this month and packed for weeks. Figured it be easier than making you have to pack all your little fluffy bitches in boxes—”

“Well they wouldn’t go in boxes, they’d be buckled up in seatbelts.”

“Exactly my point. Would have been a nightmare trying to move you.”

You slap his shoulder.

“Um… what if I said no?”

“Oh…” the thought never actually crossed his mind that you’d say no.

You laugh again, kissing his jaw reassuringly. “Kidding, Bull Daddy.”

He grumbles into your back and kisses the back of your head. His big meaty paws rub over your thighs, the little dents from the strap still ghosting your skin, trailing up over your belly that he can’t wait to see swell one day, even if not any time soon, and snaking up to your aching chest—

“Don’t you dare touch my fucking tits.”

10 minutes later, you catch Joel’s cuddling the breathing cow right next to his face, snoring soundly as it exhales next to him. you kiss the tip of his noses and burrow yourself closer to your sleeping giant.

It really does help babies sleep.

- - - -

Notes: this ended up being waaaaaaay longer than I thought holy heck.

Bonus of Joel x Preggo reader thot in the plushies saga

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[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

#genshin impact #genshin impact yandere #genshin yandere #neuvillette x reader #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #arlecchino x reader #yandere arlecchino #yandere arlecchino x reader #furina x reader #yandere furina #yandere furina x reader #fic tag #pats neuvillette this noodle dragon can be so pathetic #aiming for pathetic desperate and slightly guilty. it gnaws at him knowing he's keeping you like a bird in a cage #esp if you react extremely negatively hes like a kicked puppy #not outwardly but internally hes a MESS. sobbing crying wailing #furina and neuvi sopping wet kittens u found in a cardboard box in an alley #vs arle thinking abt all the crimes shes going 2 commit in the process w/o an ounce of guilt. blackmail? check. kidnapping? check. #a little murder for flavor. as u can see im coping horribly w being practically snowed in rn i need 2 be put down #its like 4 degrees out rn (fahrenheit) and getting colder ueueueue i am dying.......... #only thing keeping me going is my furinameow plushie coming. eventually. staying strong just for her................. #also needs 2 be mentioned all the stories r separate ksjfkhdsf #no not everyone in fontaine is yan and trying 2 kidnap sorry for getting ur hopes up.. #yet #anyway u cant convince me arle isn't bribing (or just straight up forcing) her agents into doing stupid shit so she can “save” you #and make you owe her #two silly goofy little creatures vs the personification of gaslight gatekeep girlboss (heavy on the gaslight) #also split this up in 3 parts bc. lol. lmao. im not writing 9 characters at once goodbye #also all the masks do actually have significance i have an entire essay on why i gave each animal to specific characters okay

[starflungwaddledee]

little guy big city! 7 inch plushie magolor had a fun time on our errand yesterday. he even finally got to do the classic "oh nooo the statue of a Creature is eating me"!

#had significantly less fun at the visa license office though. could not stop thinking about that one fic the whole time. #if you're out there still yea i mean your fic. and yes it was about a similar level of pain in the ass. some things never change. #today is a catch-up day and also getting some energy back. i'll be back more thoroughly tomorrow! #i always enjoy writing ID's for him! #7inch plushie magolor return to dreamland

[pepperpixel]

+ Butch 4 Butch +

(Except neither one of them is rlly that butch but holy fUCKING SHIT THAT SONG IS LITERALLY THEM… the version of them I made up in my mind palace… it’s them.)

Anywayyyy. Yeah! Have a tagr art dump..! aka, those vibes when you, out of a series of moments of temporary insanity, end up finding, taking in, nursing back to health and eventually falling into a tangled messy yearning situationship w the asshole tsundere alien who tried to destroy your entire planet… rlly extremely relatable vibes!!

#invader zim #gaz membrane #tak #invader tak #tagr #iz tak #iz gaz #doodles #caption for the 3rd pic: #ton ten photos taken seconds before a goth girls plushie security system shoots you in the head. #anyway… yeah… I love these two #I think a lot my ideas for them are informed by this one fanfic I read as a young teen/child… but I don’t actually remember anything #concrete?? just general story beats? and I’m pretty sure my ideas deviate from it a good bit. but #I think that fic def formed the basis for my tagr love and appreciation #I think they could be complicated and messy and painful and fun as fuck #I have ideas for them lol. and some more art. so hopefully I’ll be able to post that soon too #but for now… enjoy sketch dump of messy goth saphics #*top ten moments. not ton. spellings hard ghgh #I think tak is very hesitant about initiating physical contact and intimacy and being cuddly. cuz of pride and also repression #but I saw a post talking about irkens being naturally very touchy feely affectionate and I def agree… #so. tak is wary of stuff like that at first. but once u break thru that initial barrier of her denying herself she’s actually sUPER TOUCHY #gaz has unleashed a pda beast she just doesn’t kno it yet

[rorywritesjunk]

Buggy is more than happy for you to move into his quarters and share his bed. To him it means cuddles whenever he wants it. What he doesn't anticipate is... Your collection of stuffed toys.

Sure, it's not a lot and he can manage finding them all over the bed, but sometimes they get in the way when he wants a snuggle or more. Oftentimes he rolls over to put his arm around you, hand reaching for a feel, only to come in contact with that scruffy cow plush you insist on snuggling with instead of him.

And instantly he becomes that meme of "me, my partner, and their giant $500 stuffed toy".

(edited because I wanted it to be neutral!)

#buggy the clown #not a fic #listen buggy wouldn't shame you #he may be a little confused at first but he will get you more plushies if you want #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x you #buggy x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you

[blaiddraws]

talking about the most recent chapter of rerouted by @stellarcoachman with some people on discord. and. it has been decided that ingo needs one of those plushies of emmet that he can hold whenever he likes. and. the mental image was so potent i couldn't resist a quick doodle

#submas #ingo #emmet plushie #pokemon #recs #gives the feral sneasler man a squishy. it's what he deserves #anyway op i hope you realize we on that discord server eagerly await your updates each morning hdkshdkdhd #and also talk about the fics. we have an Healthy Appreciation.

[samstree]

words can wait (until some other day)

Jaskier does not panic when he falls in love. It happens a bit further down the road. (geraskier, 3k, cw: panic attack ☆ AO3)

Jaskier does not panic when he falls in love.

The summer sun blurs his vision when he finds Geralt in a patch of meadow, familiar swords on his back, metal armors reflecting the bright light. He’s whispering to an anxious Roach in that particularly gentle tone, petting her mane patiently. He doesn’t even register Jaskier’s presence for a moment.

And then, there’s the smile. A soft smile tugs at Geralt’s lips when the mare finally calms. It’s reserved and quiet, but Jaskier knows all the world’s joy is contained in that small, warm smile. Roach nuzzles Geralt’s chest, and it grows. Crow’s feet form around soft golden eyes, and Jaskier falls in love right there.

Perhaps he should panic, he thinks, just a little. This is Geralt, his best friend, his companion, the reason for all his songs and the beat of his heart. But only sureness pools in Jaskier’s stomach like warm tea on a rainy day. There is no tightness in his chest, no constricting of breaths.

His love for Geralt brings no harm, only safety.

He is decidedly and unsurprisingly not panicking. It’s Geralt, after all.

So Jaskier calls out for his name and runs right into his arms. Geralt is perplexed by the sudden hug, but he catches Jaskier steadily as always. The smile doesn’t fade when Jaskier pulls away, half amused, half exasperated.

“Jaskier?” The sun is blinding, but all Jaskier can see is the gold in Geralt’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Jaskier can only shake his head, his own smile mirrored back, spreading so wide on his cheeks it nearly hurts.

“Nothing,” he answers. “Just… let me hug you. Just a moment longer.”

Geralt allows Jaskier to burrow deep into his embrace again, indulging what looks like a nameless bout of clinginess. They stay there for a while, swaying back and forth, despite the summer heat, despite Jaskier’s foolish heart.

☆

Jaskier does not panic when he realizes his love cannot be returned.

The fall rolls around with a crisp blue sky and a forest of golden leaves. The ground becomes colder, digging into Jaskier’s back when he struggles to fall asleep. Between his dreams, Jaskier counts the crackling of the campfire and the quiet shuffles of Geralt’s movements. A chill creeps into the bedroll, and Jaskier holds his lute closer, shivering and drifting in and out of consciousness.

Somewhere during the night, when the moon is high and the forest is quiet, warmth envelopes Jaskier from behind. He lets out a long sigh, and the shivering stops. He gravitates towards the warmth, angling his body to fit into the source.

He wakes up in Geralt’s arms, head pillowed on his shoulder and their faces a hand’s breadth apart. Both of their cloaks are wrapped around him, tucked under his body carefully. They are not nearly big enough to cover the two of them, so half of Geralt’s body is painfully exposed in the autumn chill, but Jaskier is warm and toasty even to the toes.

He’s breathless from all the love in his chest.

“Hmm?” Geralt mumbles, blinking open his eyes. In the dim morning light, his features are soft and open, all the hardened exterior disappearing when it’s just the two of them, holding each other close on a chilly morning. When he finds Jaskier staring at him, an eyebrow raises in question. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier whispers, not wanting to break the moment. “I’m just… very warm.”

Geralt catches Jaskier’s hand under the cloaks in his, only to touch Jaskier’s warm fingers with his cold ones.

“Good,” Geralt says, voice rumbling from sleep. “Humans don’t deal with cold that well.”

Jaskier pauses, looking up at Geralt’s slack face and slow-blinking eyes. It’s rare for a witcher to drift off casually once he’s woken in the morning, but Geralt does nonetheless, in a rare state of lazy contentment. Jaskier stays wide awake.

He loves Geralt, and he knows Geralt cares for him. In his way, Geralt cares so deeply, often to his own detriment. Despite what they say, despite all appearances, Geralt has a deeper capacity for love than anyone Jaskier has known.

Geralt can love deeply, that much he is sure.

It’s just that Jaskier isn’t special. He resides in a small corner of Geralt’s heart, cared for amongst countless humans weaving through a witcher’s long life.

Jaskier settles against Geralt’s shoulder, content. At peace, somehow.

Loving Geralt is enough, even if it’s unrequited, even if he’s alone in his love.

☆

Jaskier also does not panic when he decides to tell Geralt about his love.

It is the winter’s first snow, a soft, fluttering thing that drifts across the grey sky, falling and melting on Roach’s mane silently. The year on the path has officially ended, but Jaskier lingers.

Urged forward by his treacherous heart, Jaskier follows Geralt all the way into Kaedwen. The final fork road stands before them, the last moment before their separation.

Jaskier rambles on, complaining about his frozen fingers in the lecture halls of the university he can only half-heartedly call home—the real one is this. The road, monsters and ballads. Home is Geralt, since he was eighteen.

“I don’t care if Kaer Morhen is an ice castle up in the mountains, Oxenfurt has to be colder! I am not leaving my winter doublets with you again. Help me, Geralt! Check again!”

He wrinkles his nose, digging through Geralt’s pack to find another one of his fur-lined doublets. Their things get mixed up during the year. Jaskier may have sneakily slipped most of them in so he can linger a bit longer without thinking about the giant hole that is going to take up his chest in Geralt’s absence.

“You know you can just not mix them with my things.”

“Hush, dear. Be smart later. We must find the gloves! My fingers cannot be exposed to the cruel winds of winter! It’s the dampness, I tell you—Oh.”

Jaskier touches something soft and squishy at the bottom of Geralt’s pack. He pulls out not gloves, but a small, hand-sewn horse plush.

It’s not the most delicately made, most of the seams lopsided and the dark brown fabric of the horse’s body fixed up with patches old and new. The two buttons are different sizes, but they look rustically charming with a big smile on its face.

“Jask, it’s—um. It’s a…” Geralt, amazingly, is starting to fluster. “It’s nothing. It’s a… horse.”

Jaskier feels like he’s stumbled onto something very intimate.

“So it is.” He looks up, not sure what to do with his hands, so he keeps holding the soft toy carefully. “She looks like Roach.”

“It’s from that girl. Around ten years ago.” Geralt looks away, as if embarrassed by having a cuddly toy in his possession. “Got her out of the manticore nest.”

“I remember. It was a close call. Her parents were worried sick.”

Geralt reaches out as if to touch the little horse, only to pull away last minute. “I checked on her a year later, passed by the village. She had made this.”

“She did?” Jaskier smiles fondly. “I remember she wouldn’t stop crying, so you introduced her to Roach.”

“And you did the voices.”

“It worked wonderfully. She made a friend that day, and went home to make you a friend.” Jaskier waves the horse’s front leg cheekily.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of Geralt’s lips. “Roach is easy to love.”

Jaskier looks down at the small horse plush, the most precious lopsided toy in the world. It’s like he’s holding Geralt’s heart between his hands. Handle with care, he reminds himself. A witcher’s heart breaks easily.

So he puts the horse gently in Geralt’s hand, giving it a little squeeze. Geralt rubs its ears on instinct, a subtle motion that seems to soothe himself.

“She really is,” Jaskier whispers reverently, not sure who he’s talking about.

There Geralt is, holding a small gift from a decade ago, a tangible proof that he was once appreciated, remembered, loved. It’s a good sight. Geralt deserves to know when he is loved.

Jaskier’s breath catches when he meets Geralt’s gaze for a moment too long, nearly struck dumb by the split-second decision he just made.

Geralt deserves to know.

Too few love him. If one does, one should declare it loudly.

His chest is warm with calmness, a quiet acceptance of his unrequited love. It will be okay. Even though Jaskier will not be loved in the same way, it will be worth it.

They finish finding Jaskier’s things and bid goodbye, the plush toy sitting in Geralt’s pack safely. When Jaskier walks away, he looks back with every other step, heart full of tenderness. He cannot say it yet. It will be the most important thing he does in this life. A poet should be granted enough time before proclaiming his love. He should be allowed the dramatics, at least.

“Wait,” Geralt calls out.

“Hmm?”

Jaskier turns around, thoughts lost in planning the day already. Flowers. He should pick flowers—Geralt loves them, even though he never shows it. Also those candied fruits he likes. Good food is always a nice opening for serious words—

“Jaskier, just… wait for a moment.” The flustering is back when Geralt catches up with a few long strides. “You don’t need to go.”

Jaskier frowns. “But I do? It’s well into winter already. I can’t make it to Oxenfurt once the snow sets in—”

“Don’t go to Oxenfurt,” Geralt interrupts. “Come to Kaer Morhen. With me.”

Snow melts on Jaskier’s lashes, blurring his vision.

“Really?” His heart hammers, the thrumming beats revealing too much. “You’d want me there?”

Geralt only takes his hand, thumb rubbing gentle circles on Jaskier’s wrist, an anchor to calm all the butterflies in his stomach.

“Must you ask?” he says softly. “You know the answer.”

When Jaskier takes Geralt’s hand in return, the familiar warmth enveloping him, he realizes that he does. He learned the answers to all things Geralt a long time ago.

☆

The mountains are slow to accept spring’s arrival, sitting far above the rest of the world, but it waltzes in gracefully anyway. Snow seeps into the ground, bringing back the first sprouts of life. Kaer Morhen stands too close to the sky. Colors return to the crumbling keep, stirring their quiet life with restlessness.

It’s the last day before they set out for another year’s journey. Jaskier relishes his last moments in the keep, sitting cross-legged on Geralt’s bed with the lute in his lap, strumming an absent tune. It’s also become his bed since the dark days near solstice. My room is warmer, Geralt insisted at the time, with more sunlight. It’s only practical.

Jaskier isn’t sure how he’ll cope once they leave the keep, without Geralt’s presence grounding him at night. It’s trouble for the future him, he reckons. For now, Geralt is padding across the room quietly to join him, lying down on the pillow next to Jaskier’s thigh.

His fingers stop for a moment to brush the loose strands away from Geralt’s face. His witcher grumbles sleepily, eyes closed, snuggling against Jaskier while slowly drifting off into a nap.

The lute is soon left on the ground. Jaskier curls up under the cover and falls asleep too.

When they wake up, it is to the setting sun hanging above the horizon, casting long shadows through the window. Geralt stirs, only to bury his face in Jaskier’s neck, the tangles of his hair tickling Jaskier’s skin. They fall into a mess of giggles, and Jaskier pretends to push him away.

The orange-gold sunlight lines Geralt’s silver locks beautifully, golden eyes meeting blue in quiet contentment. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jaskier answers.

This is the moment.

All dramatics are forgotten, all poetry set aside. It’s just him, giving away his heart at the right time, asking nothing for himself.

“Geralt, dear, I—” Jaskier breathes steadily. “I love you.”

It’ll be alright. It’s only Geralt, who deserves the world and more. Jaskier is only a simple bard with his lute and silly songs, hoping all of himself is enough. Geralt knowing he is loved is worth ten times the heartache of Jaskier not being loved in return.

“Oh.”

“Don’t say anything.” Jaskier’s voice is still relaxed with sleep, so he leans in close, the exchange barely above an intimate whisper. “I know you don’t feel the same, but I do. Love you, that is. I love you, and you deserve to know. You are loved, without condition or a price, for as long as I live.”

“Jaskier…” Geralt nearly sounds pained. He shouldn’t be, not when he’s loved.

“It’s alright,” Jaskier says. “You don’t owe me anything. I understand. All I ask is a place by your side so I may walk with you, as we have done before. I never want you to feel guilty for not returning my feelings.”

“But I do.”

Jaskier blinks, only now realizing his vision is getting blurry. Geralt watches him, eyes full of joy and sincerity.

“You—what?”

Suddenly, Jaskier’s throat is very tight, his breath shuddering. The panic that has been kept at bay makes a strange appearance from deep inside his lungs.

“I love you too,” Geralt says, holding Jaskier’s shoulder, keeping him close. “I thought you knew. I thought you could tell. Jaskier, I—”

The thundering of his heart is all Jaskier can hear. The room is too small and the air too thin. With all the time he’s spent preparing himself for the eventual rejection, he’s never dared to imagine the other possibility.

Geralt loves him.

Oh.

Jaskier’s chest seizes as anxiety takes hold, his words stumbling over each other and his vision tunneling.

“Forgive me—” Head spinning, Jaskier just wants to get out of this room, away from Geralt’s worried expression and the warmth of his hands. “I wasn’t expecting… I just need a moment. It’s all very sudden, I…”

“Hey, Jask, slow down. You are hyperventilating.” Geralt, as if he needs to get more lovely just to torment Jaskier’s delicate heart, notices his panic and reacts immediately. “Just try to breathe. It’s alright. Just breathe. I’m right here…”

Geralt tries to pull Jaskier into an embrace, an old trick to calm him, but it’s all too much. Jaskier needs to get out of the room.

He mumbles another apology, limbs tangling with the sheets as he scrambles out of bed. Geralt calls for him through a fog of confusion and worry, but Jaskier is gone from the room, half stumbling and half running.

☆

Jaskier is most assuredly panicking right now.

He wanders aimlessly in the keep, trying and failing to catch his breath, only instincts guiding him to a place of comfort. He pushes open the door into the small but well-kept winter garden in the corner of the backyard, the pressure on his breastbone finally letting up in the crisp mountain air. He breathes in the mixture of plants and dirt and leans against the cold wall, sliding down with all his energy sapped.

Geralt loves him back.

Jaskier turns over those words in his head slowly, easing into the idea.

It’s a good thing. As the panic eases from his mind, his senses return slowly. It hits him just how ridiculous he looks, running away from the man he loves, simply because he was loved in return.

There’s dirt on his bare feet, and Jaskier hugs his knees close. He takes in a deep breath, and then another. Slowly, painstakingly, the panic subsides. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but clarity returns eventually, and he rests his head against the wall with relief.

“Jaskier.”

The door creaks open, and there Geralt is, holding a large blanket and looking awkwardly unsure.

“I’m fine,” Jaskier answers, voice still tight.

Geralt all but softens. He sits down next to Jaskier but doesn’t touch, only holding out the blanket. “May I?”

Receiving a nod, Geralt wraps the blanket around Jaskier’s thin shirt, careful not to invade his space. Jaskier almost feels like a dam breaking when he throws himself into Geralt’s arms, burrowing under his chin. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“Shh. Don’t be.” Geralt rocks him back and forth, a hand running down Jaskier’s arm. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“I panicked,” Jaskier sniffs.

Geralt chuckles quietly. “I could tell. But why? I thought the conversation was going somewhere… well, somewhere good?”

Jaskier lifts his head but lets Geralt hold him close, soothing his nerves patiently.

“It was going somewhere incredibly good,” he admits. “Too good, perhaps. I wasn’t ready for it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt tilts his head, observing him.

Jaskier hides away from Geralt’s knowing gaze. “You must think it was stupid. To be fair, I was. Who would have a full-on panic attack because the love of their life actually loves them back?” He lets out a self-deprecating huff. “I had accepted it, that I was alone in my longing, and that nothing would change after my confession. But now… things will change, and it was suddenly too real.”

“It wasn’t the confession that gave you panic. It was knowing that I loved you.” Something in Geralt’s expression crumbles, guilt and shame creeping up on his brow. “All these years, I thought you knew. I’m not good with words, so I tried to show you, instead.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier blinks, thinking back on every detail of their companionship in a new light—the quiet protectiveness, the trust, the care. The answer pieces together like puzzles falling into place, a clear picture forming in his mind.

Geralt, always putting Jaskier before himself.

Geralt, smiling and laughing because of Jaskier, and making Jaskier smile and laugh in return.

Geralt, inviting Jaskier to his home.

The only conclusion—

“You love me. You have loved me all this time.”

Geralt smiles. “And you love me.”

Jaskier’s heart picks up its pace for an entirely different reason this time. “That’s… wonderful.” He’s smiling so hard it makes him giddy. “Whatever shall we do now?”

“Now? Anything, I suppose. Everything, or nothing at all.” Geralt turns to kiss Jaskier on the temple, making his cheeks heat up rather embarrassingly. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Jaskier echoes. “For now, we don’t need words yet.”

Another year begins tomorrow, the seasons passing by as they walk the path.

But for now, they stay in the little corner of a keep that stands too close to the sky. For now, they don’t need words yet.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #getting together #fluff #panic attack #can you tell all i'm thinking right now is making a horse plushie

[nyan-koii]

Jenson and mark watching seb using his biggest plushie in his collection to get off, their hands guiding his hips slowly and letting it fell into a rhythm.

Seb shuts his eyes tightly, not sure whether its because of the that pleasure he's trying to focus or the eyes of his plushies and his two boyfriends staring at him. It's embarassing but he can feel himself becoming more sensitive with every second.

Jenson traces his back, making shapes and leaving feathery touches to seb's body while mark forces and eye contact with the german boy. "Beautiful," he whispered, his eyes growing dark and seb quickens his pace.

Seb whines, begging for more, its not enough mark please do something and his hips stutters when jenson pushed him, face planted, down to his bed. His sweater, mark's sweater, revealed his boxer. Dark patch formed and they cooed at seb when a sniffle came out from him.

"You made a mess sebby. Poor mr.whale all dirty because of you," mark mocked and provoked him, making seb bites his bottom lip in embarassment. His hand tries to cover his lower half but mark caught it before he could do so.

"Oh no seb. You dont have to be embarassed. We've already seen all of you," he reminded and seb moan when jenson palms his clothed cock.

He's grinding now. Seb used jenson's hand to reach his climax and mark brushed the hair covering his face. His eyes glazed with tears and he looked at jenson with his doe eyes, lips parted as he lets out small noises, one that can only be heard by them, and jenson has never been so hard before.

#sebmark #sebson #seb #my beloved seb #mark and jenson #this is probably a snippet of my sebmarkson fic #YIPPEE YIPPEE IM WRITING AGAIN #honestly i love the idea of seb being a plushie collector #its so fitting esp during bmw seb era #will i get over bmw seb? absolutely no will i shut up and not make seb a desperate slutty innocent doe eye looking ass german twink? HELL N #also this is a wip #inspired by motorkink and cedobol's post <3 RAWR ITS EATING MY BRAIN #love making jenson and mark seb's boyfriend #two is better than one #also i want seb to be manhandled so bad so yeah #bring that hunk australian and playboy brittish in ❗❗❗ #jenson button #mark webber #sebastian vettel #sebmarkson

[snivyartjpeg]

commission for @draconicsparkle, based on a scene from their fanfic, Safe In The Nocturne!

#rain code #raincode #mdarc #master detectives archives: rain code #yuma kokohead #yakou furio #yakou fathero #< probably the only time yall will see me use this tag djfdks sorry /lh #it's a cute fic! give it a read if youre a fan of that dynamic #had me saying 'awww' a few times #ik he's not the focus of the fic but my favorite thing in it is vivia #his single 'k' text message that is so true #the raven plushie #'Yakou had to hold himself back on marveling that Vivia was sitting in a chair like a normal person.' #obsessed

[steampunkserpent27]

Art by @biskueee for my WIP recovery fic. (Mature, currently 129K) -Do not repost/re-use-

#drarry #drarry fanart #drarry art #drarry fluff #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco x harry #harry x draco #recovery #recovery fic #fic link #ao3fic #ao3 author #ao3 fanfiction #drarry fic #drarry! #drarry squad #plush #emotional support plushie #fanfic #fic #fanart #fanfic art

[hwaitham]

goob mornie sweet fwiends in m phone ilu all so very :3 hoping u hv a totes amazeballs wknd n a great day + night ( every day + night ! ! ) as long as i am alive on this earth ! then there is someone who loves u n is proud of u okies ♡ bisous pour vous ! (ɔˆ ³(ˆᴗˆc)

#𓈒 ۫ 𝓹𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓮 𐂯 𝓹𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮𝓼 ₊⠀ೀ #much to do 2dai n i woke up feeling so anxious for no reason at all T T #will go on a run to decompress . . then i will tenderly handwash m plushies . . then i will read some fics . . change m theme . . #put an outfit together for laufey concert this wednesday ( which is apparently now a blind date since m friend ditched last minute ?? ) #:pensive: #n then i will practice cello n answer askies n clean the kitchen #yis . yis this all seems doable ( affirmations )

[pedge-page]

omg imagine PK x Plushies i love you so much girl you are amazing

Plushies x Piss Kink Crossover - Joel Miller x F!Reader

Notes: The crossover that was bound to happen and its HEREREEEEEEEE. This is more Plushies!verse setting and they discover a lil piss kink.

Warnings: PissKink, Plushies humping, yes we are peeing on the plush, premature ejaculation, assisted male masturbation, crying, jealous!Joel, and a HINT (just a bit) of sub!Joel at the end

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“What’s this one? Benny the Buffalo?” Joel asks, staring down at the brown fuzzy stuffed animal in his hands.

“No, dummy, that’s Biscuit, the Bison,” you retort, not even looking at him as you continue reading.

The two of you are lying down on your new “shared” bed, and Joel has decided its time he get to know his roommates on first name basis.

“Course. And this?” He snatches the white rabbit next. “BunBun?”

“Carrot.”

“Appropriate. How about Ghosty over here?”

“Casper.”

“How original. Aaaannnddd....?” He shoves the next one in your face to get your attention: a fat baby chick with an enormous orange bill.

“Mr Quakers,” you answer matter-of-factly.

“I bet he’s loads of fun on that little nub of yours,” he snickers. He tosses the poor chick like a free-throw basketball across the room.

He grabs the next one, buried waaaay in the back of your bed under all the rest. “Alright, Let me guess… Hammy the Hamster.”

“No that’s—“ you take one look at the one currently in his palms: a medium sized hamster with bitty hands and a large head as big as his squat body. Quickly hiding your shocked expressions, you go back to your book and say very casually, “Um…that’s… Frank.”

“Frank?”

“Mhm.”

“Just Frank.”

“Yup.”

“Frank the Hamster. How does that make sense?”

“Well I didn’t name him.”

“And who did?"

You swallow, wondering why Joel’s got so many goddamn questions about the naming conventions of your stuffed animals. “Um … Frank did…”

“Stuck up fella, naming the thing after him. Who was this “Frank” then. Your uncle? Was he as perverted as me?”

“No. Frank’s… my ex.”

Your face feels hot, avoiding his gaze and trying to look anywhere but at him. 

Joel stares at you with an unreadable expression, then back to the fisted squishy hamster plush. He contemplates for what feels like an eternity. There’s an uneasy silence hanging in the air, and your heart is beating out of your chest, wondering what he may be thinking about those word resonating in his ears.

He clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth into diamonds while looking at something so extremely soft and huggable. You hope maybe he’ll just dropkick it out the window at worst, but instead: 

“Hands and knees on the floor. We’re fucking Frankie the Hamster tonight.”

-

There was no “we”. What he really meant was YOU are fucking Frank the Hamster tonight, and he is pinning you down and forcing you to grind on it harder.

“Joel—that—feels… uncomfortable.”

He’s not rubbing his cock along your ass, or nudging your clit or kissing you. Instead, he’s caged you between the thick mass of his sold body and the hamster on the floor, your legs spread out with his knees along the inside of your calves to keep them open.

He keeps rubbing along your pelvis, palm digging into the squishy part right below your belly, pressing hard against your bladder.

“Joel,” you warn again. Your legs quiver with the rapid build, too afraid to push him off entirely. He’s steaming, that’s for sure, but why torture you above the little helpless guy?

“S’matter? You don’t like rubbing your slutty pussy over your ex’s face?”

“It’s just a stuffed animal—ow!” You cry as Joel pinches your nipple through your shirt.

“You grind on Frankie’s face before?”

“N-no. Never,” you swear. 

“Mmm. Not sure I believe you, sweet pea. Kept him all these years, didn’t ya?”

You shake your head, too afraid to face him. You really hadn’t been grinding on the hamster ever. In fact, you nearly forgetting of his existence until Joel fished him up while asking everyone’s name. 

He forces your back to arch even more drastically, putting more pressure between your naked cunt and the soft squish bellow you. You furrow your brows, fear creeping between your spread legs, unable to clench against something to brush off the mounting pressure in you.

“Joel please—I really need to go...” you didn't want to finish the sentences. He wasn't pleasuring with his hands you in the right places so much as building pressure in the wrong one.

“Go where? I’m all you need. Right. Here.” His fingers dig possessively into your side while his other hand pushes into your lower belly.

You shake your head again. Heart racing now that you no longer care about your pleasure and are more concerned with the mess of forbidden bodily fluids you’re about to rain all over your poor Frankie—

It hits you with burning desire mixed with an irksome bile. You gasp out angrily. 

This. Mother. Fucking. Asshole.

Joel smirks into your neck behind you, as if reading your mind figuring out his evil little plan. 

“S’wrong, angel? Would you rather be doing this with any of MY plushies I’ve spoiled you with?”

“I—you—“ you grit your teeth, eyes closing as a wave of panic washes deep through your core. You’re desperate not to make a mess, a fool of yourself to tame his sadistic need to own every inch of control over you.

He hears the little staggered pants from your lips. “Do it,” he commands softly but with finality, laced with a sadistic “win” for him.

A tear slips down your cheek as you moan sadly, your stomach giving up and unclenching as the walls of your bladder breaks, and hot urine spills into the stuffed animal’s face currently wedged so tightly against your entrance. 

“Shhhhhh,” he coos, finally grinding himself against your ass. He can hear the feint rushing liquid of your piss splatting into the cotton. 

He presses you further into its plush softness, suffocating every inch of your crotch so that it absorbs all the nasty warm juice squeezing out of you like a lemon. Your legs quiver violently as you can’t help but release more and more, flowing out as if by his demand and feeling the poor plush get heavy with the rush filling its cotton innards up.

"Naughty girl, am I making you piss all over your ex's face? Little Frankie doesn't deserve that does he?" He taunts, fully well intending for this to exactly happen as he wanred.

There’s so much, and another tear slips passed you, but this one because it feels so—relieving. It’s gross and nasty, embarrassing and heartbreaking all at once, and it makes you hump against him and the dampened hamster even more. 

Joel feel the quickened breaths coming out desperately from your nose as you grind down on the defiled thing all soaked up with your own piss. Your hips are frantic, smothering your cunt with the piss-logged plush desperately, as if you were trying to...

“Shit—are you…?”

You cry out in response, mouth agape with satisfied groans when you clit catches along the wet seams just right and you find yourself cumming on the sad wet thing drowned below you.

Joel clears his throat in surprise. His cock pulses on its own and floods the inside of his pants in white strings of his seed.

Did he think you would probably cry? Yes.

Did he want you to pee and destroy your ex’s little gift to you? Yes.

Did he expect you to fucking cum from it? Um.

Did he know HE would cum from it??? No. Definitely not. 

His teeth grind against one another trying not to think about how perverted he is, pulling away from you so you can’t feel his sticky spent through his trousers and on to your back. 

The squishy lump below you begins seeping the now cooled piss into the floor boards. You sigh deeply, not sure what to do now that your little punishment has turned into—something wilder.

You feel a gentle kiss along your cheek, his thumb caressing away your tears.

“That was hot,” He admits plainly.

You cover your face to hide your smile. It’s gross. It really is. Should be embarrassing. You don’t even want to think about the hamster on the floor, the memories you’ve just soddened with your own fucking piss. 

He helps you off the floor. Your thighs still shake, the uncomfortable feeling hanging there in disgust now that you’re mentally sober again.

He guides you to the shower where you both wash up quietly.

“Um—listen I didn’t… I don’t know why you would keep your ex’s stuff but…I mean I’m reasonably… it doesn’t make me feel great, so ya can’t blame me, for getting jealous—“

You shut him up but tugging against his half hard cock.

“First of all,” you say, the sudden boldness in your voice blanking his mind into submission under your touch.

“That plush, was from my first boyfriend—in high school. We dated for 2 months,” you continued, your fingers gripping his base with a gentle squeeze, feeling him swell to full mass, “and then he realized he liked boys. That was it. We laughed about it and stayed good friends. He gave me the stuffed animal as a parting gift to college for helping him through it all.”

You stop rubbing his cock and Joel opens his eyes. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“So…Frank’s just… a friend…”

You kiss his collarbone. “Just a friend,” you repeat.

The water coats his back soothingly. An ache that had formed in his muscles, the strain of aggression tickling his brain from the minute he heard you had a stuffed animal named after your ex, still in your bed after years, had suddenly vanished. 

“Why—why would you say hes your ex and not just your old friend? Why'd ya let me make you do that to it?” He asks, concerned now that he’s ruined something sentimental to you over his quickness to jealousy.

“Because—“ you nip along the swell of his chest, both hands working along his hardened cock. “You wanted it.” Your thumb swipes along his tip, the precum feeling sticky despite the shower water drenching you. 

He moans, head falling into your shoulder as he thrusts his length into your palm. 

As your wrist continues to jerk him off, your lips ghost the shell of his ear with a deadly, lascivious whisper: 

“And I’m too crazy for you to say no.”

- - - -

Permanent Taglist

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#pedro pascal smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #last of us smut #joel miller fic #joel miller #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us fic #last of us fic #plushies!joel #pisskink!joel #piss kink