#clenching my little baby fists and wailing

[kashverse]

imagine the horror on sukunas face when his daughter starts saying the slangs he uses 😭

it was bound to happen. sukuna’s vocabulary was always going to come back to bite him in the ass. you just didn’t think it would be your sweet, precious angel who would be the one to scream—

"FUCK!"

—in the unusually quiet sukuna household.

you froze. sukuna froze. the houseplants probably froze. there was a pin-drop silence as you slowly turned to look at your sweet baby girl, standing in the middle of the living room with her tiny fists clenched, an identical scowl to her father’s on her face.

"…baby," you said carefully, "what did you just say?"

"FUCK!" she repeated, as if testing out the weight of the word, her face scrunching in concentration. you gasped. 

"sukuna."

"why the fuck are you looking at me?" sukuna hissed, then immediately winced. "shit—fuck—damn it!"

"papa said a bad word!" babykuna pointed, looking gleeful.

"you just said it first!" sukuna yelled, looking personally betrayed. you rubbed your temples, already feeling a headache coming on. “where did you even learn that word?” 

your baby girl blinked at you. "from papa."

you turned your head so slowly towards your husband that you swore you heard your neck crack.

"of course she did."

sukuna was silent.

"baby," you knelt down in front of your daughter, taking her tiny hands in yours. "we don’t say that word, okay?"

her little face fell, eyes glistening with tears as she realized you weren’t pleased. "did i…" she sniffled, voice wobbling, "did i dis’point mama?"

oh. oh no. you felt actual heartbreak rip through your chest as you scooped her up, hugging her tight. "no, no, no, baby, you could never disappoint me—"

but before you could fully reassure her, she burst into tears, wailing, "i don’t wanna make mama sad—!"

"shit," sukuna muttered, running a hand down his face. "now look what you did."

"what i did?!" you shot back, eyes blazing. "you're the reason she knows that word in the first place!"

"it's a normal word!" sukuna argued, throwing his arms up. "people say it everyday!"

"SHE'S FIVE!"

as you continued to yell, sukuna slowly retreating into the corner of the room, crouching down, his arms wrapped around his knees. he was silent. too silent. you paused mid-rant, suddenly aware of the existential crisis happening behind you.

"…sukuna?"

he didn’t respond. just stared into the abyss, eyes vacant. "i failed as a parent," he muttered to himself, voice hollow. "my baby girl… my princess… she swore before she even learned to spell properly. i—i’ve corrupted her—"

you blinked. "sukuna, what the hell—"

"don't cuss in front of her!" he snapped, looking devastated.

"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!"

"mama said a bad word!" babykuna gasped.

"oh my god." you wanted to scream.

[strayingawayy]

midnight melodies

...where a droopy eyed jisung lulls his crying baby girl to sleep

it was 3 am, and han jisung was starting to lose his grip on reality. in his arms, their newborn daughter was wailing at the top of her tiny lungs, and he, half-asleep, was desperate for anything to calm her down.

“okay... okay,” he muttered, bouncing her gently. “you’re just... hungry, right? yeah, that’s it.”

she screamed louder in protest.

“alright, alright,” he said, rocking back and forth. “no food. no bottle. what do you want, sweet girl?”

she stared up at him, her tiny fists clenched, as if mocking him.

jisung took a deep breath, glancing around the nursery like it held all the answers. he spotted her han quokka plushie on the shelf and grabbed it. “okay, quokka, let’s try you.”

he held it up to her, but she screamed even louder.

"aish. so you're rejecting daddy and daddy in animal form too huh?," he said with a tired laugh. "huh ...maybe something... softer."

his mind was a blur. but then, it hit him. a song. he could sing her to sleep. he was han jisung, after all. how hard could it be?

taking a deep breath, he started softly, his voice still a little hoarse from lack of sleep.

“you are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” he sang, his tone gentle and shaky and accent prominent but soft.

the baby hiccupped mid-cry and paused for a brief moment, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“you make me happy when skies are grey,” he continued, growing more confident.

her cries had slowed down, and her tiny hand reached up as if to feel the vibrations of his voice.

“you’ll never know dear, how much i love you...” jisung crooned, his voice growing softer as his exhaustion began to catch up to him.

the baby’s eyes fluttered, her little face calming.

jisung grinned, his sleepiness fading as he realized his voice was finally working. "see? told you i was a pro," he whispered to her, though he could barely keep his eyes open.

just then, you walked in, rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn. "you’re still at it?" you asked, glancing at your daughter, who was now dozing peacefully in jisung’s arms.

jisung, eyes half-closed, smiled triumphantly. “i’m a lullaby legend, love .”

you raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. you sure it wasn’t just that song?”

jisung blinked, the reality of the situation sinking in. “i mean... yeah. probably.”

you chuckled softly and, feeling the need for a quick snack, went to the kitchen. but when you returned a few minutes later, the sight you saw made you pause in the doorway.

there was jisung, curled up in the crib with their baby girl, both fast asleep. he’d somehow managed to fit himself in the small space, one arm around her, his head resting gently on the edge of the crib. his breathing was slow and peaceful, a contented smile on his face. the baby, snug in his arms, had the faintest of smiles on her face as well.

you stepped closer, careful not to wake them, and stood there for a moment, completely taken by the warmth of the scene. the man you loved, the one who had been so anxious earlier, was now completely at ease, his little girl in his arms as if they’d been doing this forever.

you couldn’t help but smile. "well, i guess you are her sunshine too, sweetheart," you whispered to yourself, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

you carefully adjusted the blanket over them and kissed both jisung and your daughter’s foreheads, your heart full of love. then, you whispered, "sleep tight, you two."

and as you left the room, the soft glow of the night and the gentle hum of peace filled the air, your little family finally at rest.

[osachiyo]

searched pervy xavier here and am very disappointed that i do not share this notion with anyone else 😔

tws: n/sfw content, panty stealing, getting caught, mentions of non-consensual recording, masturbation, reader brings other ppl home, he’s a lil pathetic but we love him, 0.6k+ wc, jealous!xavier, he’s a lil nasty tbh, my writing is messy here cuz I wrote this on a whim apologies if there are any errors ₊ 𓂃 also nonnie me 🤝 you … but imagine him as your pervy roommate . ps. art by rororo_mg on X + star dividers made by @saradika-graphics (check emout!)

Perv roommate!Xavier thinks you’re so damn cute, honestly, you're just the sweetest thing ever. Every morning, he can't help but smile when he sees you in the kitchen, making breakfast for the both of you. There's something about the way you move so effortlessly, humming to yourself while you cook, that completely melts his heart and makes his cock stir in his sweats. He can’t help but stare at the little shorts barely covering your plump ass fully.. fantasizing about walking up behind you and bending you over the kitchen counter. Xavier imagined how your cunt would taste on his tongue- how your pussy would gush in his face as he ate you out like a man starved.

perv roommate!Xavier makes a habit to purposefully drop stuff in front of you, giving you his best puppy eyes and requesting that you pick it up for him, and it worked like a charm every time. Little did you know that it was only an excuse to have you bend over in front of him— azure eyes raking over the tempting view you put on, saliva gathering in his mouth as he stared at the roundness of your ass. Hell, he could even see your puffy pussy lips through your tight shorts— were you wearing them on purpose?

perv roommate!Xavier who knows about your little toys— the baby pink vibrator that you use at night, not knowing your roommate is pleasuring himself to your sweet little moans and yelps. His hand squeezing his cock tightly, trying to imagine how your soft cunt would feel around him— or even your cute little mouth. He’d try and match his thrusts to your moans, and it makes him cum embarrassingly quick— sticky white goop spilling on his bedroom floor and hands, leaving him panting. Maybe he should set up a camera in your room sometime..

perv roommate!Xavier who gets jealous when you bring a random guy home one night, telling him that you’ll try not to be loud. ‘Why would you bring another guy home when he was right there?’ — he thought, as he heard the wet, lewd sounds of you getting fucked by another man. Fuck, it made him mad but also he couldn’t help but get turned on by it. The sounds of your bed creaking- slamming against the wall, your wails and cries of pleasure as you got pounded into the sheets made Xavier’s cock throb in his pants. God, he really was a freak— getting off to another man fucking the girl he liked.

perv roommate!Xavier who would insist on doing laundry for the both of you— but that's only an excuse to steal your panties. He can't help it, y'know? They're so cute and pretty.. and just perfect to wrap around his cock while he fucks his fist with the thought of you in his mind. Sometimes he even likes to sniff 'em, groaning out loud as the scent of your pussy floods his senses. He can't help but lap his tongue over the small wet spot on the thin material, suckling at the spot where your clit would be— moaning and whining as spurts of pre leaked from his cock.

perv roommate!Xavier who was currently jerking his cock with your used panties wrapped around his cock in the living room— shamelessly getting off to the thought of fucking your sweet, warm little hole while you were at work. He was so focused on how you would feel around him, that he didn't even hear the front door open. You could only gasp at the sight— his cream colored sweater pulled up and pants pulled down, and clenching and unclenching with each pump of his hand- wait.. were those your panties?! Before you could even reprimand him— or even get a word in, for that matter, Xavier's head whipped to your direction as he heard the small noise— his panicked blue eyes catching your own shocked ones.

"Oh. Shit."

[paddockletters]

tiny bubbles | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: Charles and Y/N give their newborn her first bath, leading to sweet and funny moments .

“Okay, we’ve got this. We’ve totally got this” I muttered, pacing nervously around the bathroom.

Charles stood beside me, holding our tiny, week-old daughter in his arms, her little fists clenched and face scrunched up like she already knew something was about to go wrong. Despite all the parenting classes we’d taken, nothing really prepared you for the real deal.

“We’ve watched the videos” Charles said, glancing nervously at me as we both stared at the small baby tub in front of us like it was some kind of complex machine. “We passed the parenting course… we’re basically experts, right?”

“Right” I agreed, though my voice was far less confident than I wanted it to be. “How hard could it be? People have been bathing babies forever.”

Charles carefully lowered our daughter toward the water, and I hovered over him, watching every tiny movement. We were both on edge—her little legs kicking slightly as her toes brushed the warm water.

“Is the temperature okay? You checked it, right?” he finally said, testing the water one more time with his elbow. “It’s not too hot, right?”

“I checked it five times, Charles. It’s fine” I reassured him, though I couldn’t help but dip my hand in the water one more time, just to be sure.

Gently, Charles settled her into the bath, and for a moment, everything seemed to be going perfectly. She looked peaceful, her tiny body just floating, and we both let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Are you ready, bébé?” he asked softly, glancing down at her, though it was more like he was asking himself that question.

“Charles, she can’t answer yet” I teased, crossing my arms as I leaned against the counter, enjoying watching him take charge. “But if she could, I’m sure she’d tell you to just go for it.”

“I’m being cautious.” He shot me a mock glare.

“You’re being a dad” I corrected, smiling as he finally eased her into the warm water. Her tiny body floated just enough, and for a second, everything seemed like it was going to go perfectly smooth.

Charles sighed, visibly relaxing as she cooed softly, clearly enjoying the water.

“I think we’re nailing this” he said, sounding like he was already patting himself on the back.

“She likes it” Charles said, beaming as he knelt beside the tub. “We’re doing great.”

I smiled, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to ease.

“See? We’re not complete disasters.”

Just as I reached for the washcloth, our daughter let out a sudden, loud wail, her face scrunching up in protest. Both Charles and I jumped at the sound.

“Oh no, oh no, what’s wrong?!” I panicked, leaning over the tub.

“I don’t know! Maybe she’s cold?” Charles suggested, his eyes wide.

“Quick! Warm water, more water!” I grabbed the small cup nearby, splashing some water over her, but it didn’t seem to help. Her cries only grew louder, echoing in the small bathroom.

“I thought babies liked baths!” I said over the noise.

“Maybe she changed her mind?” Charles replied, a nervous laugh escaping him as he tried to soothe her by gently splashing water with his hand.

At that moment, a tiny fountain of water shot up, and we both froze. I blinked, realizing what had just happened.

“Did she just—?”

“She did” Charles confirmed, his eyes wide in disbelief, as we both stared at the small arc of water.

“She peed on you” I managed, biting back a laugh as Charles just looked at me with a mixture of shock and amusement.

“She’s back to being our calm little angel.” I said, brushing my hand over her tiny foot.

“Well, at least now we know she’s hydrated” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. Charles joined in, shaking his head as he wiped his arm with the towel.

“So much for being ‘experts’.”

The bathroom was filled with nothing but the sound of our laughter and her quiet little gurgles.

“You think this is funny, huh? Giving your papa a hard time already.” Charles leaned in, looking down at her with a grin.

I watched as he carefully scooped her out of the tub, holding her close to his chest, wrapped in the soft, fluffy towel. She looked so tiny in his arms, her eyes blinking up at him with curiosity, as if she hadn’t just caused utter chaos a few seconds ago.

It's real what people say, it's beautiful to see the love of your life become a dad.

“I don’t think she likes me very much right now.” Charles sighed, shaking his head with a grin.

“Nonsense” I said, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“I think she’s mocking us” I said, smiling as I stood next to him, leaning my head against his shoulder.

Charles chuckled, rocking her gently in his arms. “She’s going to be trouble, I can tell.”

“Definitely” I agreed. "She’s just keeping you on your toes.”

We stood there for a moment, just watching her, marveling at how something so small could bring so much joy—and so much unpredictability—into our lives.

“She’s going to keep us on our toes for the rest of our lives, isn’t she?” Charles asked, looking down at our daughter with a mix of awe and amusement.

“Definitely” I agreed, gently drying off her tiny toes as she yawned, clearly exhausted from all the excitement.

Charles smiled softly, holding her close as he rocked her in his arms. “I can’t wait.”

“Well” Charles said after a beat, his voice softening as he looked down at her again,

“I guess we survived our first bath.”

“Barely” I joked, but there was pride in my voice. We may not have been perfect, but we were learning—together.

As I reached up to kiss Charles on the cheek, our daughter let out a soft coo, snuggling deeper into his arms.

“Maybe next time, we’ll get through it without any unexpected showers” I teased, and Charles laughed, pressing a kiss to her tiny forehead.

“Next time, we’ll be pros,” he said confidently.

“You sure about that?”I raised an eyebrow.

“No, but we’ll figure it out. One bath at a time.” He gave me a cheeky smile

[sugarwarachan]

thinking about izuku missing you on a long mission - mdni

your phone rings as you’re curling your body into bed, izuku’s familiar face lighting up your screen.

“hi sweetheart,” he says the moment you pick up. no matter how long you’ve been with izuku, the fact that years of pro hero work have scraped at his vocal cords always makes your stomach drop. the slight rasp makes his soft voice sound dangerous. "how’s my girl?"

you squish your face into the pillow, cradling the phone close. "okay. be better with you here."

"missing me, baby?" you hear rustling on his end, followed by a low grunt. "as much as I’m missing you?"

arousal hits you like a truck.

an image fills your head of izuku with his pants shucked down to his ankles, shirt between his teeth and hips desperately lifting off the bed. you roll onto your back, snaking a hand down into your pajama shorts. izuku’s unabashed desire for you never fails to make you wet, and sure enough, your fingers slide through your folds easily.

“wanna see, izu?”

he exhales sharply. “fuck. yeah, i’m gonna need to see you, baby. already soaking wet for me?”

you might hate to be apart from izuku for a mission, but you love what it does to his mouth. he hisses through his teeth when the picture you send goes through.

"love how wide you’re spreading those pretty legs, sweetheart." izuku’s voice is gravelly and rough. "missing my cock the way I’m missing your pussy? my fist isn’t the fucking same, princess, you know that? doesn’t grip me tight and snug like you do."

your skin flashes hot. "need me wrapped around you, izu?"

he groans low and filthy. your pussy flutters around nothing as you rub little circles on your clit. you might cum just from this, you think wildly.

"when I get home, I’m making you cum at least five times before I get my dick in you," izuku pants, teeth clenched between gasps. it’s been a week since he’s touched you, and not a single thing has relieved the ache in his cock. "want the lower half of my face fucking soaked in you, sweetheart, wanna ruin our sheets."

you whimper. his hand slides over the head of his cock, thumb rough over the slit, just like the way you touch him.

"fuck, you like the sound of that, don’t you? you’re making the sounds you make when you’re close."

"izu, honey, I wanna hear you cum first, okay?" it’s like you can barely get the sentence out. he bucks his hips hard into the ring of his fist.

"fuck. next time, baby, okay? cum with me now, can you do that?" he hears what sounds like sheets rustling and imagines you nodding your head furiously. god, you’re so fucking cute when you’re like this, pliant and begging. "rub that swollen clit of yours for me, I know you’re almost there. I’m right behind you, sweet girl."

"izuuuu," you wail. he’s memorized what you look like before you fall apart, head tossed back, eyes rolling up in your head, full mouth chanting his name. he conjures the image now, matches it to the sounds falling from your lips.

"there's my fucking girl, let me hear you." he feels his orgasm unfurl in his lower stomach, a keening ache that makes his rhythm falter.

can't wait till i'll home with you. don't forget to clean yourself up, baby. don't groan," he chuckles softly. "i'll be home soon enough to do it for you, and you know you don't like going to bed sticky."

"especially if you're not the cause," you tease sleepily. "night, izu. love you."

"love you, sweetheart. be home soon."

in such desperate need of comfort like this!! ˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are so appreciated <3

[hy6erion]

i keep reading jayce and his stupid big dick pleaseee write more if you can its so hot🧎🧎🧎 i don't see enough of dom jayce🙏🏻

(no pressure if you don't feel like it!!!♡ i love the way you write btw!♡♡♡♡♡)

𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬)

⇢𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞(𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬), 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐦/𝐬𝐮𝐛 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

Jayce had been fuming all night.

You had seen the way his jaw locked, the way his hands tightened into fists at his sides, the way his golden-brown eyes darkened every time someone looked at you for too long.

It didn't matter that you had done nothing wrong.

It didn't matter that you weren't flirting.

To Jayce, it was enough.

So now?

Now you're face-down on the mattress, legs spread wide, your ass up in the air, completely at his mercy.

And fuck- he wasn’t being gentle.

His thick cock slams into you from behind, stretching you open, his hands digging into your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you. The wet slap of his skin against yours fills the room, filthy and obscene, your slick dripping down your thighs, making a mess of the sheets.

"You think this pussy belongs to anyone but me?" he growls against your ear, his voice low, rough, vibrating with jealousy.

"T-thought you could just bat your pretty little lashes and have every guy in the room eating out of your fucking hand?"

You sob, your fingers clawing at the sheets, your body rocking forward with every brutal thrust, every stroke hitting so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

"J-Jayce-ohhh, f-fuck—"

"Yeah? You like that, baby?" he mocks, his grip tightening, forcing you to take him deeper, harder.

"Like being reminded exactly who this pussy belongs to?"

You can't even speak, can't even breathe, your mouth hanging open, your moans breaking into breathless sobs as he pounds into you, fucking you like he's trying to fuck the memory of every other man out of your head.

"You're so fucking tight, baby-fuck-squeezing my cock like you were made for me," he groans, his fingers bruising into your skin, his pace relentless.

"This is mine. This pretty little cunt? Fucking mine."

You're completely wrecked, your body shaking, your thighs trembling violently, your pussy soaked, fluttering around his cock, dragging him deeper with every thrust.

"Ohhh, fuck-Jayce-s'too much-s'too deep-"

"Too deep?" he laughs breathlessly, mocking, pressing a big hand between your shoulder blades, shoving your face down into the mattress, pinning you down.

"Nah, baby. You can take it."

His cock drives into you, filling you to the brim, stretching you so fucking wide you can't even think.

"This is what you wanted, huh?" he grunts, his fingers slipping between your thighs, rubbing tight circles against your swollen, aching clit.

"Wanted me to get jealous so l'd fuck you stupid, make you feel me?"

You wail, your whole body clenching, your nails digging into the sheets as the pleasure piles up too fast, too hard, too much

"J-Jayce-ohhh, f-fuck-g-gonna cum—"

"Yeah, baby?" he grins, grinding his cock deeper, dragging out your pleasure, making it impossible to hold back.

"Then do it. Fucking cum for me. Let me feel it."

And fuck-

Your orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave, your pussy clamping down so tight around him that Jayce groans, his own thrusts faltering.

Your body shakes, convulses, pleasure surging through you like a fucking current, your walls milking his cock, squeezing him so tight he nearly collapses on top of you.

"Ohhh, f-fuck-shit, baby—"

Jayce snarls, slamming into you one last time, his hips grinding deep as he spills inside you, filling you up, stuffing you full of thick, hot cum.

"Take it, sweetheart," he grunts, pressing you deeper into the mattress, his hands still gripping your hips, holding you still.

"Take all of it."

His cock throbs inside you, pulse after pulse of heat flooding your already wrecked pussy, dripping out around his shaft.

He stays there, panting, wrecked, his body still trembling against yours. His fingers stroke lazily down your spine, warm, possessive.

Then, finally, he pulls out, watching as his cum spills out of you, thick and messy, pooling between your thighs.

Jayce groans, his fingers spreading your folds, pushing it back in with two thick fingers, watching you shudder.

"Mmm, can't have you wasting it, baby," he murmurs, grinning against your shoulder, pressing a lazy, satisfied kiss there.

You whimper, your body still shaking, still sensitive, still completely spent.

"I wasn't even flirting, Jayce-"

He just chuckles, grabbing your ass, giving it a sharp smack that makes you yelp.

"Doesn't matter," he hums, his breath hot against your ear.

"This pussy still needed a fucking reminder of who it belongs to."

Jayce should be done.

He should be satisfied, spent, exhausted-he just came so fucking hard inside you, stuffing you full, filling you up, marking you in every way possible.

But fuck— One look at the mess he made of you, his cum leaking out of your swollen, wrecked pussy, and he's already hard again.

You're still face-down on the mattress, your legs trembling, your body twitching with aftershocks, your pussy still fluttering from how hard he fucked you.

And Jayce?

Jayce just grins, pressing slow, possessive kisses along the backs of your thighs.

"Mmm, baby, you look so fucking good like this," he murmurs, dragging his fingers through the cum dripping out of you, spreading it along your inner thighs.

"So messy. So fucking pretty."

You whimper, still too sensitive, your body still shaking, but Jayce doesn't give you time to recover.

Instead, he grabs your hips, flips you onto your back, and dives in.

The first drag of his tongue over your overstimulated pussy makes you scream.

"Ohhh-fuck, Jayce-s'too much-"

"Shhh, baby," he hums, his big hands gripping your thighs, spreading them wider, pressing them flat against the mattress.

"You can take it."

You sob, your back arching off the sheets as his tongue laps up the mess he made of you, slow and lazy at first, just enough to make you twitch, whimper, gasp.

"Mmm, fuck," he groans, his breath hot against your soaked, throbbing cunt, his tongue teasing along your folds, swirling around your sensitive clit.

"Tasting myself on you? Fucking filthy."

You can barely breathe, barely think, your hands tangling in his messy brown hair, trying to push him away, pull him closer-you don't even fucking know.

"J-Jayce-ohhh, f-fuck—please-"

"Please what, baby?" he murmurs, grinning against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you spread wide for him.

"You want me to stop?"

"N-no-fuck-don't stop, don't stop”

Jayce just chuckles, burying his face between your thighs, his tongue flicking out, dragging a slow, messy lick up your slit.

"Mmm, that's my girl," he hums, lapping at the slick, drinking down the taste of you mixed with his cum, groaning at how fucking good it is.

"So fucking sweet. Soaked for me."

He's starving for it.

His tongue works you open, licking up every drop, lapping at the mess between your legs, sucking on your swollen clit just to hear you sob.

Your thighs shake around his head, your hands gripping his hair, pulling, tugging, your body rocking against his mouth.

"Ohhh-fuck, fuck-Jayce—"

"That's it, baby," he groans, his voice muffled, breath heavy, hot, desperate.

"Grind that pretty little pussy against my face. Use me."

You whimper, your legs twitching, your back arching off the bed, your body so overstimulated it hurts, but it feels so fucking good you can't stop.

"O-ohhh-fuck-s'too much-I can't”

"Yes, you can," he growls, shoving his tongue deeper, his fingers digging bruises into your thighs.

"Come on, baby. Cum on my tongue."

The second he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, your whole body snaps.

Your thighs squeeze his head, your nails claw at his scalp, your breath shatters into a scream as your orgasm slams into you, harder than before, overwhelming, drowning you in white-hot pleasure.

"F-fuck-fuck-Jayce, ohhh-ohhh, god-JAYCE-"

Jayce just moans against your pussy, his tongue still flicking, lapping, milking every drop out of you, swallowing it down like he's fucking addicted.

By the time he finally pulls away, panting, his chin soaked, his lips swollen, his eyes glazed over with hunger-

You're wrecked.

Your body is shaking, your legs twitching, your breath still uneven, your pussy still throbbing.

And Jayce?

Jayce just grins, licking his lips, dragging two thick fingers through the cum and slick still dripping from your pussy.

"Mmm, look at that, baby," he murmurs, pressing his fingers inside you, curling them deep just to hear you whimper.

"Still so messy for me."

You whimper, your body too sensitive, too overstimulated, still trembling.

"J-Jayce-fuck, I c-can't—"

"Shhh, baby," he hums, dragging his fingers out, sucking them into his mouth, groaning at the taste.

"You can."

He smirks, crawling back up your body, pressing his cock-already hard again-against your soaked, ruined cunt.

"And you will."

You know he's not letting you sleep anytime soon.

[eringobragh420]

♣️ Pairing — Damian Priest ♥︎ f!Reader ♥︎ Roman Reigns (no use of y/n) ♣️ Summary — Reader has been sleeping with both Damian and Roman Reigns, confident they’re ignorant of one another. After being invited to Damian's hotel room late one night, she discovers he’s not the only one she’s there to entertain. ♣️ Word Count — 2.4k 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. Oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v/a, anal, double penetration, praise, Daddy kink, name-calling, cum 18+ ♣️ Taglist — In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here! ♣️ Requested By — @bearbutlikeprincessbear. Hope you enjoy! ♣️ MASTERLIST, KINK LIST

When she first began sleeping with Roman Reigns, she never expected, had any interest, or even needed to seek out other suitors. Until Damian Priest came along at the club, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her to the dance floor where their bodies moved in synchronicity, their skin perspired, and he whispered the absolute filthiest things in her ear as she was grinding her hips into his. And so while entertaining Roman, she made the easy decision to also see Damian on the side. Nothing wrong with it—none of them were attached and none of them were interested in long-term relationships—so she never foresaw any issues, considering the Tribal Chief was on one brand and the Archer of Infamy was on another, which would give them no reason to ever cross paths. Unfortunately for her, she’d been so blinded by the all the fucking, she’d failed to consider the paid live events.

And so here she was, on her knees and elbows on a generic hotel bed with generic, scratchy hotel blankets under her. Her baby pink blazer and white satin tank top were heaps on the floor, matching mini-skirt bunched around her waist, panties in tatters around her thighs. Damian’s long cock buried itself in her tight cunt every few seconds, the momentum shoving her forward and impaling her throat further on Roman’s spit-covered, thick cock. She gagged, body convulsing, but she purred from the intrusion—on both ends—as her eyes rolled back and her cheeks hollowed.

“Fuck,” Damian wailed, hands vices on her hips. “Every time she gags, her cunt fuckin’ milks my dick.”

“You hear that, baby girl?” Roman rumbled. He was seated in front of her, back against the headboard, legs spread lewdly, a woman receiving the pounding of the century from behind slobbering all over his cock. She tilted her head so she could comfortably look up at him. “He likes it when you gag almost as much as I do.” Both his hands cradled the back of her skull as he pushed her down on his length once more, her entire being again contracting, and suddenly Damian wasn’t inside her anymore and she felt abandoned and empty and a little fucking pissed off. 

“Uh-uh,” the Puerto Rican refused. She pulled off Roman’s dick, however reluctantly, and glanced over her shoulder. Damian had backed up several steps and he had a hand virtually strangling his polished-with-pussy-juices cock. “If we’re gonna do this, we gotta do it now.”

Roman tenderly cupped her chin between his fingers and turned her face back to him. “You ready?”

She cast her gaze down at Roman’s weeping, rigid cock as he stroked it with a loose fist, and she bucked her hips and clenched her pussy around nothing. Roman’s chuckle was like thunder in the distance, and it did nothing to suppress her agitation or prevent the baby pterodactyls in her stomach from taking flight. She had no idea what awaited her, having never experienced before what was about to happen, but she couldn’t deny how bad she wanted to at least try it … to at least attempt to get both these impressive cocks inside her ass and pussy at the same time. And she couldn’t think of two better men to experience it with. Her blown pupils slowly lifted to meet Roman’s.

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.

“Good,” Roman replied, before the declaration was even completely out of her mouth. He leaned forward so his fleshy lips grazed hers as he finished, “Because it’s this dick right here that’s goin’ in that ass.” He wiggled his cock for good measure, and it wasn’t very quiet when she gulped.

The men were fluid as they moved about the room, as if they’d practiced, as if maybe they’d done this before. Heading off any thoughts in that particular direction, she smiled as she climbed atop Damian. His grip was once again on her hips, and her hips throbbed and she might’ve winced a time or two when he squeezed, but she knew this pain paled in comparison to the new kind of pain that was in her immediate future. She sank torturously slowly onto his cock, her soaking pussy sucking him in deep much like her throat had with Roman’s dick.

“There she is,” Damian breathed, fingers gliding from her hip, tickling her belly, scraping a nipple barely peeking above the cup of the bra she still curiously wore, ending their journey at the back of her neck. He pulled her lips to his, capturing them, imprisoning them with his expert technique and unmatched ability to be both delicate and voracious simultaneously. A cold trickle slipped down the crack of her ass, her body froze, and she severed the kiss. Damian was quick to cradle her face and focus her attention on him and not the pain and discomfort about to befall her. Maybe you should stop thinking about it that way. Maybe it’s gonna feel amazing. It’s Damian and Roman, after all. “If you don’t wanna do this, we can stop right now,” Damian whispered, the tips of their noses kissing.

She gazed into his smoldering eyes, easily finding comfort and true sincerity, and her hand floated to his cheek. “I wanna do this,” she murmured.

Damian once more claimed her mouth while Roman’s finger circled her puckered hole, and it tickled and it was a little weird, but then it felt … good. Incredibly erotic, and her pussy gushed around Damian’s cock. He pumped in and out of her slowly, occupying her mouth and tongue, and before she knew it, Roman had three fingers buried in her asshole, and she was virtually screaming down Damian’s throat, rocking her hips to ride both his dick and Roman’s digits.

“Oh, your ass is ready for this cock, ain’t it?” Roman teased, easing his fingers out of her so he could slap her ass cheek with his length. “Cute little tattoo,” he uttered, now rubbing the leaking head along her sensitive skin, and she knew exactly where he was spreading his precum. She’d never even imagined a scenario where Roman and Damian randomly met at the hotel bar, shared a few drinks, and then a few stories about the women they were sleeping with only to discover those women had the exact same tattoo in the exact same spot, but here they were. “Let’s find out if it’s true, huh?” That hadn’t been the meaning behind the beautiful red script spelling out the word paradise on her right cheek, but she supposed it did seem appropriate now. She hoped, anyway.

She felt the fleshy head of his cock poke at her entrance and her hand left Damian’s face to instead dig her nails into his chest. She felt blood before she was without warning hauled backward, shoulders slamming into Roman’s sturdy chest, and she cried out as he slipped further into her passage. Roman was a true dominant, in and out of the ring, in and out of the bedroom, so it wasn’t very far fetched for her to expect to be degraded, at least a little, for not immediately being able to take his length, or for whining in pain as he pressed another inch inside her. His tattooed arm came into view, fingers applying surprisingly gentle pressure on her chin until she turned to him.

“You’re takin’ me so good,” he praised. Her eyes lifted, full of renewed hope,  determination, and pride. Compliments in a non-derisive way were few and far between, and she intended to bathe in the accolades for as long as possible. “I know it hurts, baby girl, but you’re a fuckin’ champion. You hear me? Our champion.” Her heart swelled and her fingers unconsciously slid down her body and directly into her dripping folds where she found her clit and, just a little further inward, the base of Damian’s glazed cock, the rest of which was still stuffed deeply inside her cunt. Damian grunted and squirmed, and her smile was drunk as she stared blankly at her Tribal Chief, hypnotized by Roman’s unusual softness. “See, that was nothin’.”

Snapping out of her reverie, she was overwhelmed by the sensation of being utterly full. Roman had genuinely mesmerized her with his words, with the bottomless pits that were his eyes, and he’d sheathed himself to the hilt in her ass without her noticing. Now fully aware, however, the burning returned, the splitting, and she whimpered, clawing at Roman’s arm now. Easily noticing her stress, Damian untangled her from the Samoan’s embrace and pulled her back down to him, cradling the back of her head and splaying a hand across her upper back.

“Right here,” he rumbled into her gaping mouth, “stay right here with Papi. You hear me?”

She nodded, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Damian’s soulful ones, and her lips collided with his before she knew it. He was her comfort, her weighted blanket, her favorite teddy bear, and the spell he cast on her through his lingering lips kept her mind occupied as Roman gripped her hips, pulled out, and shoved himself back in as if he were fucking her pussy. It hurt, bordering on agonizing, but Damian’s mouth was so perfect and gifted that it hurt just a little bit less, the three of them going on like this until she’d fully accepted Roman with an amount of pain that was both uncomfortable and pleasurable. 

“You love this, don’t you?” Roman panted. When she gave no answer, he snatched her hair and yanked, her lips releasing Damian’s with a wet smack.

“Yes, Daddy, I love it,” she breathed.

“Yeah, you do,” Roman mumbled. “Show me. Ride these dicks like the whore you are.”

Hands on the bed on either side of Damian, she rose until her elbows locked. Damian’s hands were coarse and callused as they traveled the invisible roads of her upper body, and she smiled down at him as she began gently rocking her hips, drawing the cocks within her ass and pussy as deep inside her as possible before releasing them to the cold air surrounding them, repeating the process until she couldn’t bounce fast enough on them. 

“That’s it,” Damian moaned, “just like that.”

“Shit, all you need is a cock for this mouth, huh?” Roman mocked, giant hand wrapping around her throat. “What you think about that, Priest? Plug up all this bitch’s holes.”

“Fuck,” Damian muttered, pinching and tugging at her nipples.

She screamed, jaw dropping, and Roman’s hand was swift in making the relocation from her neck to her face, long fingers dipping inside her mouth. Her lips automatically closed around his digits and her cheeks hollowed as she sucked because what else is a girl supposed to do when Roman Reigns sticks his fingers in her mouth?

Time went on, doused in a mixture of sweat, screams, desire, and the fundamental need to cum. Roman lost control first, hand between her shoulder blades, shoving her chest into Damian’s, and he leaned forward, most of his weight now on her hips and ass as he fucked into her recklessly. He cried out—she thought he was speaking Samoan, but she couldn’t be sure—releasing himself inside her, and his pumps became slower and less powerful until he pulled out altogether, slapping her tattoo once more with his softening dick.

“Y’all can … take care of that, right?” He had to be referring to the mess he’d just made that would eventually come leaking out of her. “I got somewhere to be.”

The relief alone she felt when only Damian was buried within her nearly sent her head first into an orgasm. It had been a wild moment, an experience she could check off her bucket list, but she’d be lying if she denied feeling a bit stressed at the thought of being responsible for pleasing two men. Of course it was a hot idea, but realistically, the logistics were a bit more muddled than she cared to deal with again. And, though she would never admit this to anyone, especially the two men involved, she preferred Damian and his attentiveness and his kindness and the gentle fucking he was famous for. Roman was the choice when she needed to be used or slapped around. Damian was the choice for everything else.

“We’ll take care of it,” Damian mumbled, and she smiled just as he seized her lips once more. 

She hardly registered the hotel room door opening and closing, Damian flipping their positions smoothly, putting her on her back and settling between her sticky thighs. Her hands glided reverently up his chest, squeezing his shoulders, continuing to his face.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, taking her hands off him one after the other, imprisoning them between his hands and the mattress on either side of her head, his grip secure, though not constricting.

“Yeah,” she purred, rolling her hips in an attempt to find some friction, and Damian grinned at her desperation. 

“But you need your special time with Papi, hmm?”

“I always need my special time with Papi.”

Finally he started fucking her, lazily at first, gradually picking up speed. She suddenly felt Roman’s warm cum begin leaking out of her ass and into a puddle on the bed, Damian’s thrusts now coming with a wet smack every time he slammed into her. She gasped, lips parting, pussy pulsating around Damian’s solid length, breasts bouncing, and she came with a wail she would be embarrassed over later. Her hands were fists as they wanted nothing more than to touch Damian, feel him, run her fingers through his hair, but he refused to release her until after he’d filled yet another one of her holes with sticky cream.

“You’re a mess,” Damian grinned, climbing out of bed. She couldn’t help the satiated smile and stretch as she watched Damian disappear into the bathroom, assuming he was on a mission to retrieve a wet washcloth. They were gonna need more than that, she thought, just as she heard the water in the tub come to life, and her smile nearly broke her mouth. “Now let’s get you cleaned up,” Damian returned, clapping his hands and holding them out. She rolled her eyes, moving into a sitting position, but Damian suddenly scooped her into his capable arms, tossing her an inch or two in the air to get a better grip. “I don’t think it’s big enough for both of us, but …”

“I guess you’ll just have to wash me from outside the tub then,” she sighed.

Damian kissed her forehead. “My pleasure.”

જ⁀➴°⋆ Papi — Daddy

[roosterbruiser]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲

A piercing cry slices through the dark--your eyelids are too heavy to wrench open, especially when you’re cocooned under the heavy duvet like you are right now. 

From behind you, molded against your body like he always is when you sleep, Jake’s muscles tense. Rigidly, he sighs into the warm curve of your throat and blinks through the dark. And, yes, there on the baby monitor is your six-month-old baby boy in his silly-looking sleep sack. He’s about to wail, Jake can tell. His little bottom lip’s wobbling and his eyes are shut tight and even though Jake can’t see his hands, he knows his fists are clenched.

“Your son is so dramatic,” you whisper, muffled from the pillow. 

“I thought we decided on theatrical,” Jake whispers back, his voice thin and worn. He peppers a few sloppy kisses to your throat and starts to sit up. “I’ve got ‘im.” 

“You’re my hero,” you mutter, yawning. 

He stretches and then swings his legs over the bed. 

“Kinda my thing,” he says as he stands.

“I love you so much,” you reply. Any other time, with more sleep, you would’ve scoffed at him and given him your best eye roll. But you’re too tired to feel anything but grateful for your husband right now. “Like, so much.” 

Jake laughs lightly, tiredly. 

“I know,” he says cockily, teasingly. 

You don’t respond, already drifting off to sleep again. You’re so tired that you can feel it in your bones--a deep, deep ache that is only exacerbated by frequent diaper changes and excessive feedings and tumultuous tummy times and gas and formula and binkies and board books and burp cloths and baths. 

And even though the baby is definitely about to start screaming, Jake can’t help but pause for a moment in repose as he stands in the doorway in his slouchy sweatpants. You’re sprawled across the bed already--you always say it’s to keep his spot warm but he knows that it’s because you’d sleep in star-formation if you had the choice--and breathing deeply. Your hair is a mess on the pillow and your cheek is smushed. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re exhausted from parenting a very particular, theatrical Seresin baby boy.  

He wants to cross the room again and tuck your hair back from your forehead. He wants to kiss your aching temples and your heavy eyelids. He wants to pull you in his arms, gather all those limbs, and hold you close. 

But he doesn’t want to wake you up.

So, he just smiles gently. 

“I love you so much,” he responds finally. “So, so, so stupid much.” 

And then he’s padding down the hallway, yawning again, but with a smile tugging on his lips. He can hear his son’s whimpers from outside the door and honestly, he’s shocked the screaming hasn’t started yet. 

The sound of artificial rain floods Jake’s ears when he comes into the room, the little sound machine in the corner lulling your son to sleep each day and night. He doesn’t bother turning it off or turning the light on--Jake’s fairly certain he’s adapted to the dark by now anyway. 

There in his crib, the one Jake had to finally ask Javy to help build, is a wriggling and fussy baby boy. His gummy mouth on display as he thrashes his head back and forth and his cheeks ruddy from upset. 

Jake’s heart swells as he strokes his cheek. Sometimes he still can't believe that this sweet little creature--the one with your eyes and his nose and your cheeks and his chin--is all his and all yours. You made him, every bit of him, and he is the most precious thing to ever grace this earth. Jake's sure of it.

“Hey there, cowboy,” he says softly. His son doesn’t let up yet, kicking his legs as Jake unzips the sleep sack. “S’alright, darlin’, daddy’s here.” 

All the tired floods his body and slips out under the door when Jake’s not looking. He holds his son against his bare chest, his body still so small and so soft. But then Jake is kissing the feathery hair on his head and bouncing lightly in his spot, heels digging into the rug. 

“What’s got you so upset?” Jake whispers, lips pressed against his son’s forehead. “Bad dream, baby?” 

Your son doesn’t respond. He just burrows into his fathers neck, his breaths stuttering and his mouth open and drooling. Jake pats his back a few times, kissing his cheek. He inhales his sweet, sweet scent and sighs.  

He loves the way your son smells--he just smells warm. He isn’t sure if it’s the body wash or the lotion or the sheets that does it. But he somehow just always smells good, like home, like you. 

“Let’s take a seat, huh? A little rock and roll never hurt nobody, huh?” He asks quietly as he sits in the rocking chair. 

If you were awake to hear his pun, you would’ve never let him hear the end of it. Jake makes a mental note to tell it to you over breakfast. 

Your son’s whimpers are fading fast, especially when Jake starts to softly rock him, tucking his chin on his head and patting his back softly. 

“Mama thinks you’re theatrical,” he tells your son, eyes fluttering shut. “And you definitely are. Mama also thinks you get it from me--and you absolutely do. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, cowboy. You gonna be a little actor? Or a little lawyer?” 

Your son babbles quietly, fingers tangled in Jake’s hair as a form of self-soothing. Jake kisses his face a few more times. 

“Or you could just stay here with me and mama forever,” he whispers. 

And he knows that having a son has made him soft--like crying at that one Honda commercial kind of soft--because his eyes grow wet when he thinks of your son getting any bigger than he is now. He never wants a day to come where he can’t pull his son to his chest, sit down in the rocking chair, and make the tears stop. 

"I love you," he whispers. "Me and mama love you so, so much. More love than can fit in this whole world."

When you pad down the hallway, eyes full of sand and sleep from your very few hours slumbering, you don’t even have to touch the walls anymore to orient yourself. You know where you’re going even in the pitch-black hallway. 

Jake’s sleeping when you come into the nursery, the sound machine quiet in the corner of the room. Your son is still in his arms, sleeping against his chest. And God do they look alike right now in the light of the moon--both of them sleeping with their heads resting on each other’s, their mouths open, their fists clenched. 

You came in here to bring Jake back to the bedroom. But watching him hold your son, your sweet boy, in that rocking chair that he built in this room he put together--you decide that a few more hours of comfortable sleep isn’t worth it. Tempurpedic mattress be damned. 

So, you just carefully cross the floor. The rug is soft beneath your bare feet when you lean forward and stroke your son’s head, careful to have a soft touch that will not wake him. And then you’re kissing Jake’s warm cheeks, stroking his blonde locks, too. 

Jake stirs slightly, eyes twitching. Your heart swells. 

You sink onto the floor before the rocking chair, leaning against Jake’s legs. The rain is lulling you already and you yawn as you rest your cheek on his thighs. The rug is comfortable--you’re glad you went for this one. Your son is happy and sleeping and your husband is holding him and everything is right in the world. 

And just as you’re about to fall asleep again, Jake’s thighs cushioning you, Jake’s hand falls into your hair. He strokes a few times in welcome--hi, baby. 

 “Missed you,” you mutter. 

“Missed you,” he returns. His hand glides through your hair. “All’s right in the world now, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “It is.”

happy Father's Day to those who celebrate <3

[shariasweet]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ testing the waters

p.sunghoon 𝒙 f.reader

this is olddd... 2024 old.... #tryingtogetbackonmygrind anyways because it's so old it's kinda rough and punctuation, grammar is iffy. my apologies 😓

wc ::: drabble length sharinote ::: any who here I am writing butt stuff... shivers. this was supposed to be for jay but erm this is an experiment post so... uhm yeah !!! contains a little bit of plot… just hoon referencing a memory but!

when your boyfriend notices you're having trouble... finishing. he decides to test the waters. double the pressure... double the pleasure (or something like that).

your fists tightly balled around the wrinkled material. 'sunghoon..!' you mewled into the sheets — dirtied by several previous rounds of what seemed like relentless fucking:

your boyfriend was ripping orgasm after orgasm from your quivering body — or at least he was trying to. he'd had you on his fingers in his mouth... missionary cowgirl and now? doggy. you just couldn't come.

every time you felt your orgasm creeping up on you… it'd never arrive.

it’s like just as that wave of pleasure would be about to wash over you... the waves would never crash. instead you'd be left writhing with an aching cunt — chasing a nonexistent high.

your eyes swelled up with tears. they began pouring from the moistened ducts as you whined into the bedsheets. ‘please please please…’ your begging came out in broken breaths — exasperated and desperate as you tried arching further into his touch. ‘I want it… ‘want to cum so so bad hoonie fuck!’

as much as your boyfriend loved to see you cry… wailing as you took him bullying his lengthy cock into your cunt with moderate struggle… or screeching whenever his fingers dug deeper into your cunt…

sunghoon and you both knew how badly you really want to come — you have to… hence his unfaltering dedication.

‘shhh… I know baby.’ his strong arms wrapped around you as his hips began to stutter no longer rapidly pistoning against your ass. sunghoon thought to himself… he was busy thinking of ways he could make it better… ways to make you come:

sweetly rubbing your clit? no you’d already tried that and by now the bundle of nerves was so bruised and sore you’d only be more distressed… trailing kisses down your neck? it’d only left you more desperate.

the male was at a lost running a hand through his hair as he sighed. he only wanted to make you feel good.

still rummaging through recycled ideas he’d briefly thought of a conversation he’d had with a couple of his friends. a dumb one really…

it was lighthearted — playful and seemingly useless.

him heeseung and jay sat around drinking and laughing around jays living room coffee table… the two single men reminiscing past hookups to share with their friend.

‘she told me to!’ the middle laughed.

‘no way dude! that’s sick…’ the eldest gulped down his drink. ‘not really…’ jay’s humored laughter dying down. ‘what do you think hoon? I mean she came quick. crazyyy orgasm — I mean she was clenching and — ’

‘enough!’ heeseung jutted his lip out. the two bickered as sunghoon chuckled out loud. ‘I mean I ‘dunno never tried it.’ he replied indifferently also taking a sip of his drink. ‘well if you ever need to get y/n to… y’know give it a try.’

his friends advice lingered in the back of his mind as he sat back up. ‘baby…’ he cooed listening as you sniffled. ‘want to try something… s’that okay? I really want you to cum f’me.’ you softly nodded. more pleas began to slip past your lips — coming out as incoherent babbles. ‘please hoonie…anything.’

gradually he begins sinking back into you. his cock dragging between the fluttering swollen walls of your cunt.

‘y’know give it a try.’

the words echo throughout his head as he slowly thrusts into you. sunghoon’s hand finds it place around your hips — a bruising grip on your ass as he brings his thumb to gently press against the puckered rim of your ass... testing the waters.

he feels you tense at the sudden contact, drawing careful circles around your hole. ‘here y’go sweet girl. how's that?’ he purrs, his thumb still prodding at your gaping opening as he continued fucking into you. 's'good...' you groan.

your boyfriend glances down where the two of you connect — his shaft flooding you much smaller cunt… resulting in an abundantly creamy ring around the base of his cock — his thumb inching further inside of you.

god, you were so irresistible... back arched, digging into the mattress as a sweaty sheen adorned your body. it’d only be a matter of seconds until sunghoon came again.

your continuous, desperate mewls halted by the pressure of his thumb massaging against your asshole. ‘f-fuck!’ gasping you threw yourself back on him, feeling him knuckle deep as his drooling tip kissed your cervix. "more, please, hoon! o-oh my... sshhit!"

you squirmed against his toned stomach as he fucked into you — finger prodding against the spongey walls of your ass.

'hah!’ you eagerly moaned. you could immediately feel the pressure building in your stomach... an orgasm finally near as your boyfriend picked up the pace of his hips snapping into your own.

finally.

he could feel you clench around him — a tell tale sign as your cunt fluttered around the shaft of his cock. you were about to cum.

each drag brought you closer until alas you were coming undone. "f-fuck!" you cursed, finally giving out as you sunk further into the mattress... "that's it. cum f'me, y/n... shit, you're perfect, baby." he grunted, slowing his thrusts as he allowed you to ride out your high.

"thank you, hoon." your voice echoed, an exhausted and hushed whisper. "of course, sweetheart." chu. he placed a peck on to your bruised lips... pulling the uvet to rest over your body as he left to draw a bath.

all works are works of fiction. they do not reflect the reality of anyone mentioned... all works owned by @shariasweet on tumblr {do NOT repost on other sites} ≽^•⩊•^≼

[hans-wh0re]

A.N: this is a drabble that m thinking of expanding as a fic

"Fuck, that's it baby..." Hyunjin rasped out in a low, filthy growl that made you shudder. His scorching gaze raked over your lewd display through the phone's lens - spine in a debauched arch, mouth fallen slack with blissed-out moans as you eagerly speared yourself on his thick length again and again.

The harsh smacking of skin on skin reverberated through the room in tandem with your desperate, cloying whimpers. Each time you ground your asscheeks flush against his pelvis, Hyunjin's cock would split you apart with that soul-shattering *stretch* that had stars bursting behind your screwed-shut eyelids.

"Nnghh...that slutty little cunt just can't get enough, huh?" he rasped out, voice gone rough with lust. "Taking my cock like you were made for it."

Hyunjin shifted positions then, grabbing a fistful of your sweat-damp locks to wrench your head back at a punishing angle. You gurgled out a pitchy whine past your spit-slick lips as he brought the phone up unbearably close, the lens zeroing in on your ruined, slack-jawed expression with sadistic focus.

"Look at you..." he sneered in dark gratification, studying your glazed, vacant features. "Such a desperate cum-hungry slut. Is this what you wanted? To be my personal fuck-puppet while i records just how much of a messy little whore you are?"

Despite his cruel vitriol, you could only keen out a shuddering, mewling whimper of bliss. Lost in a hedonistic vortex of sensation, you mindlessly shoved your hips back to impale yourself in one long, shuddering grind on the punishing density of his cock.

Hyunjin hissed out a harsh breath through gritted teeth at the feeling of your abused, sloppy hole fluttering and clenching around him in spasming milks. That iron-hard length somehow managed to split you open even wider as he surged in with a vicious snap of his hips. Thick ropes of your essence immediately started to dribble free in vulgar gouts, trickling down over your puffy folds to soak the bedsheets beneath you both.

"That's right you little whore..." he growled, nostrils flaring. Using his grip in your hair, Hyunjin pulled your face up and forced you to meet the camera's gaze while he treated you like a twisted little pocket pussy.

"Give the people what they want. Drool all over yourself while i utterly ruins this messy fuckhole..."

He punctuated the threat with a series of harsh, pounding jackhammer thrusts that instantly punched a shrill, gurgling wail past your swollen lips. Drool collected obscenely at the corners of your mouth as your eyes rolled back in delirious rapture - you were completely gone, nerves thrumming from the onslaught of sensation.

Everything became a spiraling vortex of feral rutting, filthy squalor, and erotic bliss. Hyunjin's physique glistened with a sweat-sheened sheen as he plowed into your squelching, convulsing cunt with relentless, animalistic fervor. The room filled with a cacophony of your pitchy howls, his rough grunts, and the lewd wet sounds of your essence being messily reamed.

The camera (and subsequently Hyunjin's burning stare) didn't miss a single degrading second - greedily capturing every graphic detail of your debauched defilement. And still you craved more, grinding back to meet his brutal thrusts with wanton keening whines.

Stars exploded across your vision as Hyunjin buried himself in one last cruel, obliterating grind that had you choking out a ragged, open-mouthed sob. He held you there impaled on the swollen, pulsating crest of his cock as rich, viscous ropes of seed immediately began pumping into your abused, fluttering hole.

"That's it, sweetheart...fucking milk me..." he snarled against the sweaty nape of your neck, voice utterly guttural with possession. "Take every fucking drop like the filthy cumdump you are..."

[daycourtofficial]

Amber eyes, looking into mine

Summary: Eris finds something in his study that triggers him into a frozen state of panic. Who better suited to pulling Eris from his past than his future?

Author’s note: I wrote this in under an hour so please be nice and if there are any typos, no there aren’t 💕 Also technically this is part of my gingerfucker series, but can be read alone and she doesn’t make an appearance, it’s all Eris and the baby okay byeee

TW: panic attack, mentions of being whipped and being burnt

Word count: ~1k

A trade agreement sat on his desk, one that predates his tenure as high lord. Eris had found the document stuffed away in a drawer, abandoning what he was searching for as soon as he recognized it.

His father’s large, obnoxious signature at the bottom, the ridiculously high tariffs on imported goods. He could hear the whip in his ears, feeling his body tense with memory.

It was all too much. He had spoken with his father about the deal, wanting to give incentives for traders to come into Autumn rather than deterrents. Beron had laughed at him, telling him that everything anyone needs can be found in Autumn.

The night hadn’t ended there.

Beron had whipped him for having such a ridiculous idea in front of the other courtiers.

“No son of mine will appear so idiotic before others,” he had said, his voice ringing in Eris’s ears. 

Eris was seated in his chair in his study, but his mind was elsewhere. Down deep, deep in the dungeons of the Forest House, a trek he made many nights, his blood dripping through the house as he limped back to his own chambers.

Chubby hands grip the fabric of his trousers, a body too small traveling up his legs, climbing for what they love most in this world. Little feet find their footing on his thighs, hands leaning against his torso to support their weight.

Amber eyes look at him, searching for praise at the impossible task they just completed. 

His eyes.

What his eyes used to look like, before Beron burnt the joy out of them.

Eris is frozen in place, caught in a spiral of hatred and loathing by his son. His beautiful, wonderfully funny son, who looks at him with the love and adoration his mother looks at him with.

If his son knew all that he had done to prevent Beton’s ire, would his eyes still look for Eris in every room? Would his eyes still fill with tears, his lungs exhaling every breath at bedtime, unable to sleep without seeing his father one last time?

The spitting image of him, his mother finding an old portrait of himself at this age, his son a direct image of the portrait. Was this how he looked when Beron began his tirade of cruelty against his family? Did soft coos of a babe turn into wails at any contact with Beron?

All he had ever known was the flame, the flame within himself that refused to be extinguished, and the flames his father tormented him with for centuries.

He feels those flames on his skin, his own flame desperate to fight it. He feels the heat licking up his forearms, he feels it cascading down his back in waves, searching for every inch of unclaimed skin. He clenches his fists, desperate to bring himself back to reality. Instead, his breathing becomes more ragged, his jaw clenching.

He can smell the flesh burning off of him, feel his stomach churning, his throat filling with bile at the smell, so strong he could taste it.

Tiny fingers grip into his hair, yanking lightly, trying to find balance. The feeling jolts him back, back from the past, back from a place that doesn’t exist anymore. 

The babe stands in his lap, toes gripping his trousers as he tries to learn how to use them. A warmth so unnatural from something so young radiates off of his son. A tear splashes onto the little foot, which the babe immediately burns off. 

Giggles fill the room at his show of his powers and Eris is finally able to move again as he wraps his arms around the young princeling, so unaware of how the world can burn.

He holds him in a tight embrace, squishing his face into the tiny neck, breathing him in. He gives himself five seconds, clutching the clothes covering the babe’s chest.

Five.

He breathes in deeply, his chest heaving with sobs that escape his mouth.

Four.

It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair. It had never been fair. Nothing was fair.

Three.

It took hours to kill Beron, centuries of scheming, and his presence was still felt throughout the court, throughout him-

He feels something cold and wet on his neck, tiny hands still gripping his hair, but his son is slobbering across his neck, his cheek, the movement tickling Eris’s neck. He laughs as he realizes that his son is mimicking how they make him laugh by blowing raspberries into his neck, his cheeks, his stomach.

He delicately pulls the face from his neck, leaning his forehead against his firstborn’s forehead. His eyes are wide with wonder. Everything is new to him and the worst thing he’s experienced is dropping his favorite toy in a mud puddle.

He looks at his father, not sure what to make of him, until Eris slowly smiles at him, his eyes lightening with fondness, catching a bit of the spark from his son’s eyes.

And the baby in his arms smiles back, grabbing Eris’s nose in excitement as he babbles noncoherent sounds. Eris stretches his legs out, sinking into his chair a bit, letting his back relax into the chair. Eris responds to the babbling, occasional hums and responses to whatever he was trying to convey to his father. 

Someday, the words would come. They would flow freely, spilling from his mouth in anger, in sadness, in disbelief. They would come more easily, small things setting off his memories and not allowing him to think of anything until they left him. He would share the burden of his memories.

Someday, the words would come. But not today. Today the incoherent babbling was enough.

[nickistuffs]

Babysitters Club

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: A simple night of babysitting turns into an unexpectedly sweet and chaotic day

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: None. Fluff

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there

...

Harry had been caught up in a last-minute Valentine’s Day favor for his sister, Gemma, and her boyfriend, Michal. Wanting them to have a proper night out, he had eagerly volunteered to babysit their daughter. He had even done it before—at least, that’s what he insisted. But in his rush to help, he had completely forgotten to mention it to Y/N.

Now, standing in the middle of his living room, Harry gently rocked his niece in his arms, his brows knitted in concern. The tiny baby let out another wail, her little fists clenched as if she were determined to protest his every effort.

"Come on, love," he murmured, bouncing her lightly, his voice a soothing lull against her cries. "What’s all this about, huh? I’ve given you a bottle, changed your nappy, did tummy time, and let you nap—what else could you possibly want?"

Just as he was about to try singing to her, a sharp knock on the door made him jolt. His niece let out an even louder cry at the sudden movement, and Harry groaned. "Brilliant," he muttered under his breath.

He shuffled over to the door, cradling the baby against his chest as he swung it open. Y/N stood on the other side, smiling—until her eyes landed on the squirming, red-faced baby in his arms. Her smile faltered, confusion washing over their features.

“Uh… Harry?” they said, blinking. “Are you—are you holding a baby?”

Harry exhaled, looking entirely exhausted. “No, I’m holding a very tiny, very angry boss who refuses to tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Y/N gaped at him for a moment before stepping inside, shutting the door behind them. They quickly toed off their shoes and made a beeline for the bathroom. Harry frowned, shifting the baby in his arms.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

“Washing my hands,” Y/N responded over the sound of running water. “I’m not about to touch a baby with gross, outside hands.”

Harry let out a tired chuckle. “Good call.”

A few moments later, Y/N returned, drying their hands on a towel before tossing it onto the counter. They walked over to Harry, eyes softening at the sight of him looking absolutely drained.

“Here,” she said gently, holding out their arms. “Let me take her for a bit. You look like you could use a break.”

Harry hesitated only for a second before carefully passing his niece over. The second Y/N cradled the baby against her chest, and the crying softened. Within moments, the tiny girl had snuggled into Y/N’s warmth, her breathing evening out as her tiny fingers clutched onto the fabric of Y/N’s shirt.

Harry blinked in disbelief. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Y/N grinned but kept her voice soft. “Guess she just needed a change of scenery.”

They stood there for a while, swaying gently, letting the baby fully relax. Soon enough, her little breaths turned deep and steady, the rise and fall of her chest slow and peaceful.

“She’s out,” Y/N whispered, glancing at Harry. “Where’s the crib?”

Harry, still sprawled on the couch, pointed toward the hallway. “Guest room down the hall. Set it up earlier—thought I’d actually get to use it.”

Y/N chuckled softly before carefully making their way to the room, mindful of every step. Inside, a small crib was set up beside the bed, blankets neatly folded, a soft nightlight casting a warm glow over the space.

Lowering the baby with careful precision, Y/N held her breath as they placed her down, gently pulling their arms away. The little girl stirred for a moment, scrunching her nose, but after a second, she settled, her tiny body relaxing into the mattress.

Y/N let out a quiet breath of relief, stepping back slowly.

From the doorway, Harry leaned against the frame, arms crossed, watching with a smirk. “That was impressive.”

Y/N turned, smirking back. “Told you I’ve got the magic touch.”

Harry chuckled as they both crept out of the room, closing the door just enough to keep an ear out. As they walked back to the living room, he sighed dramatically. “Think she likes you more than me.”

Y/N shrugged playfully. “Can you blame her?”

Harry shook his head with a grin. “Nope. Not one bit.”

...

Now that the baby was peacefully asleep, Y/N patted the couch beside her. “Alright, sit. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Harry raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “You sure? I should probably—”

“Sit, Styles,” Y/N insisted, hands on their hips. “I’ve got it.”

Letting out a long sigh, Harry flopped down onto the couch, stretching his legs out with a groan. “Fine, but don’t judge the mess.”

Y/N surveyed the scene—baby bottles on the coffee table, a half-folded blanket hanging off the armrest, a used burp cloth crumpled beside Harry, and tiny clothes piled near the laundry basket. “Oh, I’m definitely judging.”

Harry groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I was in survival mode, alright?”

Y/N smirked, grabbing the bottles first and heading to the kitchen sink. “Survival mode or not, I have no idea how you managed to turn your place into a war zone in just a few hours.”

Harry peeked through his fingers. “Talent?”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head as she tossed the burp cloth into the laundry pile and folded the baby blanket neatly. After wiping down the coffee table and gathering the tiny clothes, the place looked significantly less chaotic.

Turning back, Y/N found Harry sprawled on the couch, head resting against the cushion, eyes fluttering shut.

Shaking their head fondly, they grabbed a throw blanket and draped it over him. “I swear, you’re as exhausted as the baby.”

Harry cracked one eye open, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well, babysitting is harder than it looks.”

Y/N plopped down beside him, propping her feet up on the coffee table. “Good thing you’ve got me, then.”

...

Y/N sat down beside Harry, and without hesitation, he shifted closer, letting his head rest on her lap with a tired sigh.

Feeling the warmth of him, Y/N hesitated for a second before murmuring a shy, “Hey.”

Harry hummed in response, eyes still closed, a small, sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “Hey.”

For a moment, they just sat there, the quiet hum of the house wrapping around them like a blanket. Y/N glanced at him, her heart softening at the way his lashes fluttered against his cheeks, exhaustion written all over his face. Without thinking, she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Harry’s eyes fluttered open at the feeling, and almost instantly, a slow smirk crept onto his lips. He turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting theirs, something playful yet affectionate swimming in his green eyes.

“Mm,” he murmured, his voice laced with sleep and amusement. “That was sweet, but…” He lifted his head just enough so that their faces were mere inches apart. “Kiss me properly, please,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet longing, his eyes pleading.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart thudding as Harry’s gaze flickered to their lips. The invitation was clear.

And with a soft smile, she closed the distance, pressing her lips against his in a slow, lingering kiss—one that melted away the exhaustion, the chaos of the day, and left only the warmth of them, together.

When she pulled away, Harry let out a contented sigh, his forehead resting against theirs. “That’s more like it,” he murmured, grinning.

Y/N laughed softly, their fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his shirt. “Happy now?”

Harry hummed, wrapping an arm around them and pulling them closer. “Very.”

...

A sharp, heart-wrenching wail pierced through the air, jolting both of them awake.

Harry’s eyes snapped open first, blinking away the haze of sleep. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, running a hand over his face as he quickly sat up. Y/N groaned softly beside him, still half-asleep.

His niece’s cries grew louder, making his instincts kick in. Without hesitation, he pushed himself off the couch, mumbling, “I got it,” as he hurried toward the guest room.

Y/N sat up groggily, rubbing their eyes as they listened to Harry’s footsteps fade down the hall. After stretching and yawning, they got up and followed him.

Inside the guest room, Harry was already leaning over the crib, his niece’s tiny face scrunched up in distress, her little fists flailing in frustration.

“Hey, hey, love,” he cooed softly, scooping her up into his arms. “What’s wrong now, hmm?”

She was fussy, her pretty eyes staring up at Y/N as if searching for something. Y/N tilted their head, watching her for a moment before saying, “Maybe she’s hungry?”

Harry glanced down at her, noticing the way she was smacking her tiny lips between whimpers. “You might be right,” he murmured.

Y/N was already a step ahead, heading toward the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll warm up a bottle.”

Harry followed, bouncing the baby gently as they made their way to the kitchen. “I swear, this girl has the appetite of a grown man.”

Y/N laughed, shaking their head. “She’s got your genes, after all.”

Harry smirked. “True. Guess that means she’s gonna have excellent taste in food and music.”

Y/N rolled their eyes fondly as they prepared the bottle. “Sure, Styles. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Harry chuckled, watching Y/N test the bottle’s temperature before handing it over. As soon as he placed it against his niece’s lips, she latched on, drinking eagerly.

“There we go,” Y/N murmured, smiling softly.

Harry exhaled in relief, shifting her in his arms. “Crisis averted—for now.”

They stood there for a moment in comfortable silence, watching as the little one drank, her tiny fingers curling around Harry’s shirt.

Y/N looked up at him, their voice softer now. “You’re good at this, you know.”

Harry met their gaze, something warm flickering in his eyes. “Only because I’ve got you.”

Y/N felt their heart skip a beat, but before they could say anything, Harry smirked.

“And, well… because I’m naturally amazing, of course.”

Y/N groaned, lightly shoving his arm. “And there it is.”

Harry chuckled, adjusting his hold on the baby. “You love it.”

Y/N sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

Harry grinned, nudging them playfully. “Lucky me.”

Y/N shook their head with a small smile, watching as the baby’s eyes grew heavy again, her tiny body relaxing in Harry’s arms.

...

After finishing her bottle, Harry carefully lifted his niece against his shoulder, rubbing gentle circles on her back to help her burp. A few pats later, she let out a small, satisfied burp, making Harry chuckle.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head.

But instead of getting sleepy like he had hoped, his niece suddenly seemed wide awake, her tiny hands reaching out to grab at the fabric of his shirt.

Y/N smirked, crossing their arms as they leaned against the doorframe. “Looks like someone got a second wind.”

Harry groaned, looking down at the little one, who was now tugging insistently at his shirt with a newfound determination. “Oh, come on, love. We’re supposed to be winding down, not gearing up for playtime.”

His niece cooed in response, her chubby fingers grasping onto a loose thread, pulling at it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Harry sighed dramatically. “Yeah, yeah. Go on, destroy my shirt. I didn’t need it anyway.”

Y/N laughed, stepping closer. “She’s got style. Maybe she’s just trying to redesign it for you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You saying my fashion needs work?”

Y/N shrugged playfully. “I mean, she does have good taste.”

Harry scoffed, shifting his niece in his arms as she continued her assault on his shirt. “Alright, miss stylist, what now? She’s supposed to be asleep, not gearing up for a runway show.”

Y/N reached out, gently running a finger over the baby’s tiny hand. “Maybe she just wants to play a bit before she knocks out again. Let her get it out of her system.”

Harry sighed, but there was no real frustration in his voice—just exhaustion mixed with fondness. “Fine. But if she’s still wide awake in an hour, you’re taking over.”

Y/N smirked. “Deal.”

They both sat on the couch again, Harry settling his niece in his lap as she kicked her little legs excitedly, still clutching at his shirt. Y/N watched with a soft smile as Harry let her play, his tired eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled down at her.

“You really love her, huh?” Y/N murmured after a moment.

Harry looked up, his expression softening even more. “Yeah,” he admitted, brushing a hand over his niece’s tiny head. “She’s a little troublemaker, but I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”

Y/N’s heart warmed at the sight of him—disheveled curls, sleepy eyes, a worn-out shirt covered in baby drool—but still completely enamored with the little girl in his arms.

And in that moment, Y/N realized something else.

She was completely enamoured with him, too.

...

Harry sighed, running a tired hand through his curls as his niece continued tugging at his shirt, her tiny fingers grasping onto the fabric with surprising strength.

Y/N sat beside him, watching with an amused smile. “She’s really making sure you don’t go anywhere, huh?”

Harry huffed. “Tell me about it. I think I officially belong to her now.”

But just as he said that his niece suddenly turned her attention to Y/N. Her big, curious eyes locked onto her, and after a few seconds of staring, she let out an excited squeal and immediately stretched her little arms out—tiny fingers wiggling in the air, making clear 'grabby-hands' toward Y/N.

Both of them froze.

“Oh?” Y/N’s brows lifted in surprise, glancing between the baby and Harry. “Is she…?”

Harry blinked, looking down at his niece, who was now fussing impatiently, her grabby-hands growing more insistent.

“Oi, what’s this about?” he said, feigning offense. “I thought you were Team Uncle Harry?”

His niece responded by making an even louder noise of demand, her chubby fingers still reaching for Y/N.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Guess she’s switching sides.”

Harry sighed dramatically. “Traitor.” But despite his words, he smiled fondly and carefully passed her over to Y/N.

The moment Y/N took her into their arms, she settled almost immediately, tiny hands gripping her shirt instead. Her little head rested against their chest as she let out a soft, content sigh.

Y/N’s heart melted. “Oh, she’s such a sweetheart.”

Harry stared at the two of them, shaking his head in disbelief. “Unreal. I’ve been entertaining her all night, and she ditches me the second you walk in?”

Y/N smirked. “What can I say? I’ve got the magic touch.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Or you bribed her.”

Y/N chuckled, gently swaying with the baby in their arms. “Maybe she just knows I’m your favorite.”

Harry scoffed but couldn’t hide the way his lips twitched up at the corners. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t get used to it. She’s only letting you hold her because she’s curious.”

But as if to prove him wrong, his niece suddenly reached up and clumsily patted Y/N’s face with her tiny hand before nuzzling against them even more.

Y/N gasped dramatically. “Oh, did you see that? That was pure affection. I think she really loves me.”

Harry groaned, covering his face with his hands. “This is unfair.”

Y/N grinned, looking down at the baby who was now dozing off against them. “Looks like I win.”

Harry peeked through his fingers before dropping his hands with a defeated sigh. “Yeah, yeah. You win.”

Y/N smiled softly, gently stroking the baby’s back. “You know, she’s got good taste.”

Harry tilted his head. “Oh?”

Y/N looked up, meeting his gaze. “She likes me. And so do you.”

Harry blinked, lips parting slightly, before a slow, knowing smirk curved on his lips. He leaned in just a little, voice dropping to a soft murmur.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his green eyes twinkling. “I really do.”

After settling his niece down, Harry made his way into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He was exhausted, but he figured a quick, warm meal would do them both some good.

He grabbed a pot, setting it on the stove before drizzling in a bit of olive oil. As the oil heated up, he tossed in some diced onions and minced garlic, the kitchen quickly filling with a rich, mouthwatering aroma.

Just as he gave the pan a stir, he heard soft footsteps behind him. Turning his head, he spotted Y/N walking in, his niece cradled in their arms.

“Let’s see what Uncle Harry is making for us,” Y/N murmured, bouncing the baby gently as they approached the stove.

Harry grinned, waving the wooden spoon like a conductor’s baton. “Hello, ladies. Tonight’s special is a delicious pastina soup, made with love by yours truly.”

Y/N smirked, peeking over his shoulder. “Mmm, smells good. Let’s hope it actually tastes as good as it smells.”

Harry gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “The audacity! You wound me.”

Y/N laughed, shifting the baby in their arms. “Well, guess we’ll have to be the judges.”

Harry huffed, turning back to his pot. “You’ll both be begging me to cook for you every night after this.”

As if to emphasize his confidence, he banged the wooden spoon against the edge of the pot with a playful thunk-thunk.

A second later, an unexpected sound filled the air��his niece’s loud, gleeful giggles.

Both Harry and Y/N froze before turning to look at the baby, who had the biggest, most delighted grin on her tiny face.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Wait… did she just—?”

Y/N beamed. “Oh my God, do it again.”

Harry, still in shock, lifted the spoon and banged it against the pot once more.

Thunk-thunk.

The baby immediately burst into another round of giggles, her tiny fists waving excitedly in the air.

Harry gasped, grinning. “Oi, you think Uncle Harry is funny, huh?” He banged the spoon again, this time adding a silly wiggle of his hips for extra effect.

His niece cackled, her giggles filling the kitchen like the sweetest melody.

Y/N laughed along, pressing a kiss to the baby’s forehead. “You’re right, love. Uncle Harry is funny.”

Harry placed a hand on his hip, dramatically flipping the spoon like a microphone. “Finally, someone who appreciates my comedic genius.”

Y/N rolled their eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “Just hurry up with that soup, funny man.”

Harry chuckled, stirring the pot with a newfound sense of pride. “Coming right up, my little audience.”

As the soup simmered, the kitchen felt warmer—not just from the heat of the stove, but from the laughter and easy comfort shared between them.

And as Harry sneaked another glance at Y/N and his niece, he realized—this moment, right here—was exactly what happiness felt like. ...

Just as Harry was about to ladle the soup into bowls, the front door swung open.

“Helloooo!” Gemma’s familiar voice rang through the house, followed by the sound of heels clicking against the floor. “Where’s my baby, baby brother?”

Harry groaned, rolling his eyes as he set the ladle down. “I’m literally a grown man, Gem.”

Gemma waltzed into the kitchen with a knowing smirk, Michal trailing behind her with an amused expression. “Yeah, yeah. But you’ll always be my baby brother.” She glanced around before her eyes landed on Y/N, who was still holding her daughter.

“Oh, look at that! She’s absolutely fine,” Gemma teased, walking over to Y/N. “And judging by the smell in here, you even managed to make dinner without burning the house down.”

Harry scoffed. “Rude. I made pastina soup, and it’s actually really good, thank you very much.”

Michal chuckled, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “Good job, mate. Proud of you.”

Gemma cooed at her daughter, gently taking her from Y/N’s arms. “And how was my little angel? Did Uncle Harry do a good job?”

Her baby let out a happy squeal, reaching for Gemma’s hair, making everyone laugh.

Y/N stretched their arms out, pretending to be exhausted. “Oh, she was a sweetheart. But Uncle Harry, on the other hand, was the one who needed babysitting.”

Harry shot them a look. “Oi!”

Gemma smirked. “That sounds about right.”

Harry groaned dramatically, but there was no real irritation in his voice—just the warmth of a family reunited. He looked at Y/N, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

Y/N grinned. “Not a chance, Styles.”

Gemma and Michal exchanged a glance, silently noting the fondness in Harry’s eyes.

“Well,” Gemma said, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s head. “Sounds like you had quite the Valentine’s Day.”

Harry’s gaze flickered to Y/N, his smirk softening. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I really did.”

...

Harry wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and turned to Gemma and Michal. “You sure you don’t want a bowl before you go? Made it with love, you know.”

Michal chuckled, adjusting the sleeping baby in his arms. “Tempting, mate, but we should get her home before she wakes up.”

Gemma, now holding the baby’s essentials—her diaper bag slung over one shoulder and a small blanket in her hand—gave Harry an affectionate smile. “Yeah, thanks though. We had a great night, and clearly, she did too.”

She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Harry in a tight hug. As she pulled back slightly, she leaned in to whisper in his ear, her tone both teasing and serious.

“She’s a keeper, Harry. Don’t fuck it up.”

Harry felt his cheeks heat up, his gaze instinctively flickering toward Y/N, who was absentmindedly wiping down the counter, completely unaware of the weight behind Gemma’s words.

Before he could respond, Gemma pulled away with a smirk, turning to Y/N and giving them a quick hug as well. “Bye, love. Thanks for keeping my brother in check.”

Y/N laughed. “Anytime.”

With a final wave, Gemma and Michal stepped out into the night, leaving Harry standing in the kitchen, hands on his hips, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at his lips.

He glanced at Y/N, watching as they moved around his kitchen like they belonged there. His heart did a little flip. He can't wait to have more moments like this with you.

Gemma was right.

And he had no intention of messing this up.

...

[angel5ofp0rn]

♡ part twelve ♡

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

John is holding newborn baby Shae, rocking her gently in his arms as he walks around the living room, trying to soothe her cries.

Despite his soft humming, she continues to fuss, her tiny wails echoing through the room. Shae's delicate features scrunch up with the intensity of her cries, her little fists clenched tightly.

“I just got the little monkeys to sleep,” you whisper, coming down the stairs. You notice the weariness etched on John's face, and your heart aches for him. “Want me to take her?”

“Yes, please,” John sighs, relief flooding his features as he hands Shae over to you.

The moment your chunky little baby is in your arms, she stops crying, taking a shuddery breath and nuzzling close to you. Her tiny fingers grasp at your shirt, her big, curious eyes looking up at you with a hint of recognition.

John sits on the sofa, looking defeated with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. You sit on the other end, giving him space.

You've heard of couples growing distant after having a baby, but you don't remember it being like this with your first two children.

John looks up, noticing you watching him. The distance between you since Shae's birth is palpable, and he can't stand it.

Leaning back against the couch, he finally breaks the silence. “It does get easier after a while, right? She’ll stop hatin’ me sooner or later?”

You shrug, glancing down at baby Shae, who finally likes more like you than John this time.

“Just felt like it was a bit easier with Gabe and Linnie.”

“You were either deployed or sneaking off to your second family most of the time; it’s probably just hard for you to remember,” you say bluntly.

John stiffens, your words hitting him hard. He looks at you, remorse evident in his eyes. “I’m sorry…” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

“Water under the bridge,” you reply, offering a soft smile to Shae, admiring her big eyes and rosy, round cheeks.

“She doesn’t cry because she hates you,” you explain gently. “She can just tell that you’re stressed.”

John processes your words, looking down at the baby in your arms. “Y’sure?”

You nod and move the baby closer to him. “Here, try to relax.”

“I’ve been trying,” John sighs, rubbing a hand over Shae's little swirl of a cowlick at the back of her head. “She jus’ screams her li’l lungs out.”

“You can’t just never hold your daughter again because she cries,” you insist. “Hold her.”

John takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. He moves carefully, taking Shae into his arms. She starts fussing again, her cries piercing the quiet room. John’s expression darkens, his frustration evident. “C’mon, Chunky Monkey… Don’t cry,” he pleads quietly.

You scoot closer, placing a soothing hand on his thigh. “Just relax. She’ll calm down.”

John's tense frame gradually loosens as you press a gentle kiss to his shoulder. He looks down at Shae, her cries becoming quieter. “See? She's calming down,” you say softly.

"You sure?" John asks, his voice tinged with hope. He watches as Shae's crying diminishes to soft whimpers. He takes a deep breath and finally cracks a small smile.

“If mommy and daddy are happy, baby's happy," you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder.

John's smile grows as he holds Shae, her chubby little hands clutching his chest. “Skin-to-skin helps a lot, too,” you suggest.

John snorts. “You think if I took my shirt off, she’d calm down even more?”

You nod earnestly. John hesitates but then removes his shirt, placing Shae directly on his chest. She finally stops crying, her tiny body relaxing against his. Her skin feels warm against his, and her little feet, no bigger than his thumb, curl up contentedly.

John’s expression softens. “Huh…”

“What’d ya know, your wife is a genius,” you grin, lovingly rubbing Shae’s back. You feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, and it reassures you both.

John chuckles, his earlier stress melting away as he holds his baby girl close. “She loves you,” you say gently. “She just loves you relaxed.”

Shae remains still and calm against John’s bare chest, her breathing soft and even. John looks at her with pure adoration, softly rocking her. “I can carry her up to her bassinet,” you offer.

“…I think I can,” John replies, standing up slowly with Shae in his arms. He walks carefully upstairs, rubbing her back gently. Her head rests against his shoulder, her tiny mouth opening in a big yawn.

You watch with a small smile as John heads to your office; the temporary nursery. After a moment, he stops at the top of the stairs and looks down at you. “Bed?”

John is already sitting at the end of the bed when you enter. You try to sit next to him, but he pulls you into his lap instead.

“Things haven’t been right with us, love.” he sighs, wrapping his arms around you.

“I don’t want us to do this… passive-aggressive, barely speaking to each other thing anymore.” You look into his eyes, seeking understanding. “We promised that we’d communicate, John.”

John nods, his voice breaking. “I know, love… You were right downstairs; I wasn’t around enough for Gabriel or Linnie, and I wasn’t around much for Theo, either.” Tears well up in his eyes. “I’ve just been sick at the thought of another one of my children growing up with me hardly around.”

Your heart breaks hearing him express his fears. You hold his head to your chest, pressing kisses to his hair and rubbing his back soothingly. You let him cry, offering him the comfort he needs. “You’re an amazing dad, babe… Theo is amazing, Gabriel and Linnie are such good kids… No doubt Shae will be even better, because she’ll get you full time,” you murmur. “You have nothing to be worried about when it comes to the kids.”

John lifts his head from your chest, looking at you with bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.

“Just… promise we won’t do this passive-aggressive stuff anymore. I know new babies are stressful, but the kids need to see us happy. Okay?”

“I promise.” John whispers, holding you tightly. He kisses you briefly, resting his forehead against yours. For a moment, he just enjoys holding you, feeling a sense of peace and connection that he has long missed.

•••

You head outside at 3:30 and meet your oldest child at the bus stop, holding his hand on the little walk back to the house.

Gabriel seems to walk slower than usual, looking deep in thought. As you two get closer to the house, he lets go of your hand and turns to you.

"Mummy, can I ask you something?"

"Anything, monkey."

He looks up at you as you both walk inside of the house. "How did you and daddy get married?"

"Hmm. That's a good question." You glance at John, who has a head full of ponytails and is using chubby baby Shae as a dunbell, making Linnie giggle like crazy.

Gabriel looks at John and smiles a bit as he watches him being all silly with his sisters. He turns his head back to you, waiting for the answer.

"Mommy and daddy met each other at a... park." You fib a bit, not wanting to tell your six year old that you were at a bar. "And I looked right at your daddy and I told him that he was so handsome that I wanted to be his girlfriend."

This was pretty much the truth... You actually drunkenly told him that he was gorgeous, and that you wanted to have a hundred of his kids.

"Really? And then he was your boyfriend?"

Gabriel's innocent and curious blue eyes look up at you, and John watches from a distance as well.

You nod with a smile "And then he was my boyfriend!"

Gabriel nods a bit, smiling now. "How long until you two got married and had kissies?" He asks earnestly.

"One long year." You snort.

"Did he take you on lots of fancy dates?" Gabriel is sitting at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you as if this is a serious matter.

"Lots of dates, but not always fancy ones. Sometimes daddy would take me on a picnic at the park, sometimes we would go to a movie..."

"What did you guys talk about on all those dates?" Your oldest continues the interrogation.

You laugh again, looking to John this time.

John grins from where he's been watching, he looks a bit amused by the fact that Gabriel's full of questions now. He watches you, waiting to hear your reply.

"We talked about nice things... Daddy would tell me how pretty l am, and I would tell daddy how handsome he is... We talked about how many babies we wanted and what kind of house we wanted to live in..."

"And you guys talked about love?" Gabriel asks again, giggling this time.

"Mhmm. Daddy told me he loved me really soon, right daddy?" You look back at John with a grin.

"It was about two months in, eh?" John chuckles a bit, thinking back to the first time he ever told you he loved you.

"More like two weeks." You chortle.

John's eyes open up a lot as he stares at you and then laughs hard. "Oh come on. It was at least two months."

"Your daddy loved me right away." You shrug.

John grins, remembering when he was just a bit love-drunk when he first confessed to you.

Gabriel giggles a bit at the reaction, then speaks once more. "And do you guys still love each other?"

"Of course we do." You ruffle Gabriel's hair.

"Well… How come Theo has a different mummy?”

You and John look at each other, both not knowing how to explain this to a young child.

Your middle child’s face scrunches up in thought. “How come Nadia Mummy and Theo live so far away?”

John carefully sets Shae in her bouncer before he turns back to you and the older kids, his short brown hair still standing up in about 8 or 9 hair ties all over his head.

“Well, erm…” He clears his throat. “See, before I even knew your mum, I was married to Theo’s mum.”

The middle child gasps. “Did you have kissies with her?!”

“Christ…” John rubs a hand over his stubble.

“You have to have kissies to be married, dummy.” Your oldest tries to roll his eyes at his younger sister, but actually just looks up at the ceiling with a frown.

“Gabriel Kyle, don’t call sissy a dummy.” You sigh.

“Yes, we kissed, but that was long, long before I knew mummy;” John continues, “When I lived in England, where Nadia and Theo live.”

“Daddy?” Your middle child clings to her dad’s back, her little arms wrapped around his neck. “Can we live in England?”

“No,” John shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“Why?” Your oldest’s frown turns into a pout.

John looks to you now, wanting your help in explaining this to the kids.

But you don’t.

You just stare back, offering a small shrug of your shoulders.

“Why not?”

John’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wh- huh?”

You shrug again, a small smile tugging at your lips just at the thought. “You’d be closer to Theo that way, the kids would be closer to your parents, too. They’ve only met Gabriel, they haven’t met the girls.”

“You’re being serious, love?” John asks, seriously considering.

You nod, trying to take your husband seriously with his ridiculous hair. “I’d love to.”

“England! England! England!” The kids cheer. Even baby Shae’s round face lights up with a gummy smile.

“Guess we’re movin’,” John smirks.

<< prev next >>

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 30

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Somewhat graphic depictions of afterbirth; Breastfeeding; Newborn bodily functions; Scars and allusions to past child abuse.

A/N: Fuck me sideways, I have struggled to write since all this shit in my personal life. This chapter is pretty boring but I guess there are some fluffy aspects. And Thumper gets a name.

The tiny creature that had just been shrieking in Hershel’s grasp, was now rooting around angrily while you studied every perfect little inch of her. Her skin was pink beneath the drying, waxy mess of vernix caseosa—or whatever Hershel had called it—and blood. The old man had said if he had to guess, he would put her at about six pounds. Hilarious since she felt like she weighed thirty while you carried her. 

Her round little face scrunched up before she wailed again, disturbed from her meal-seeking venture by Carol leaning around Daryl to drape a blanket over her. When you looked up to smile at him, you found the archer studying his baby like he wasn’t quite certain about something. 

“What is it?” You asked, moving the blanket a little so he could see her better. 

“S’just—” He reached toward the bundle but withdrew. “Feels like—feels like she ain’t real.” You could see the tears brimming on his waterline, crystal droplets shining beneath the pale yellow illuminance of the van’s interior overhead light; how he would squint instead of blink in an attempt to keep them from falling. 

“Daryl, you—ow.” You placed your hand on your lower abdomen, finding it tight within a cramp even if the skin itself was slightly looser. 

“Ow?” Daryl appeared panicked but was desperately trying to keep himself together. He wasn’t doing a very good job. It was so odd to see him constantly grappling for control over his emotions when he had always—for the time you’d known him—been so careful not to allow too much to show. 

The veterinarian checked the cord to find it no longer pulsing. The contractions you were having now were mild cramps compared to before, Hershel advising you that you would need to give up your hold on Thumper to deliver the afterbirth. The archer watched as you handed off Thumper to Maggie. You wondered if he even realized why you hadn’t given him a chance to hold his daughter yet. Regardless, it was immediately apparent he hadn’t been listening in the slightest—

“Just an easy push, Y/N.”

“Wait! What?!” Daryl shouted. Meanwhile, you were clenching your fists and bearing down. It wasn’t the worst pain but considering you had just pushed a tiny human out of the same opening, you were a tad bit sore.

“Good, good. I can see it. One more push.” 

Daryl’s hand wrapped around one of your fists. You uncurled your fingers and let his slip between them. “See what?! The fuck she pushin’ again for?” The archer gave no time for anyone to answer that particular question before he was crawling and leaning above the space between your knees—just in time for the placenta to exit your body while you groaned through the discomfort. “What the flyin’ blue fuck s’that?!”

“It’s alright, son.” 

“It’s okay, Daryl.” Carol repeated. 

The archer had gone white again, swaying slightly and swallowing convulsively while scooting back toward you on his ass. You tugged gently on his hand before anyone else could interfere. “Hey, tough guy. Look at her.” God, you were exhausted but keeping your partner grounded was your priority. He had a baby to meet. Daryl’s eyes shifted to you and then behind you to the infant over which Maggie was currently gushing.

“She’s perfect.” The elder Greene daughter chuckled through her own tears. 

The hunter stared at Thumper, the color slowly returning to his skin. “Rick!” He belted out suddenly. “We clear?”

“All clear for now.” The former deputy called back, even though there was little more than five feet separating them.

“Good. Stop.” 

“Stop?” Rick glanced back over his shoulder, once and then again. “Shouldn’t we—”

“Stop the van.” This time Daryl barked the command, growing irritated. He gently extricated his hand from yours, moved toward the door, and wrapped his fingers around the handle. It was obvious he was waiting for the vehicle to come to a halt.

“Daryl, what the hell are you doing?” You queried while trying to divide your attention between him and Thumper being placed back against your skin. The baby began to squeak, working up to another bout of shrill cries before you shifted her, trying your hand at offering up a breast without any guidance. When her tiny mouth latched onto your nipple immediately, you felt a tugging sensation, but no pain like you had actually expected. 

“You’re a natural!” Carol exclaimed through her own tears and sniffles. 

Before you could offer comfort while the other woman was obviously distraught—likely reminiscing of the times just after the birth of Sophia—the van jolted to a stop and Daryl was opening the door, jumping out with his bag and crossbow, and closing it before you could say a word. 

“What’s happening?” You sat up just a little, your eyes wide. “Where’s he going? Rick?”

“Stay still. Relax.” Maggie cooed, dragging a finger tenderly down Thumper’s cheek. “Let her nurse. I’m sure Daryl’s got his reasons.” You nodded even though you weren’t truly satisfied with the answer. You were just simply too exhausted to think about it any further. Carol started handing Maggie blankets to roll up behind you. “We’re gonna getcha all cleaned up and as comfortable as we can until we can find somewhere safer, okay?”

“Just wrap this up until Daryl gets back.” Hershel spoke softly, placing a bloody blob of something onto a large piece of cloth before handing it to Carol. The sac was connected to Thumper by the slimy cord. 

“Do you think he’ll want to?” The other woman whispered. Sight and sound were starting to fizzle out. Your body was demanding rest, all reserves depleted. Thumper was suckling away, making the sweetest little snorting breaths between gulps. Maggie was wiping the sweat from your face and neck, sweeping the fabric back and forth over every inch of skin she could reach.

Hershel and Carol worked together to clean up the mess between your legs, the area swollen and sore and thank god you were so exhausted or that would have really hurt. When you opened your eyes again, you were covered with a blanket and Thumper was gone from your chest. 

“Thumps?!” You bolted upright, caught halfway by Hershel’s gentle hands on your shoulders. 

“She’s fine. You were quite out of it when she finished. Maggie tried to burp her but breastfed newborns don’t always need it. Now she’s there with Carol, getting cleaned up the best we can without warm water. The vernix caseosa can stay on her skin until she can have a good warm bath. It won’t do any harm. We just thought she could do without the other fluids.”

You nodded tiredly. “How long did I sleep?”

“Only about half an hour.” Carol answered, shuffling on her knees with the baby in her arms. “Rick grabbed the diapers from the truck and checked on everyone. She’s such a tiny thing, the newborn size almost swallows her.” She pulled the blanket away to place the baby against your skin and then covered her again with the small receiving blanket. Once Thumper settled, Carol pulled the thicker blanket over both of you. 

You felt your expression light up—casting shadows over your exhaustion—at the sight of that little face. God, she was tiny. The lack of blood revealed wisps of blonde hair, still molded flat in some places by the waxy covering. You could already see so much of Daryl in her that it—

“Where’s Daryl?”

As if summoned by his name on your lips, the van door opened to reveal the archer, clearly shivering. He tossed his bag and crossbow to the side and climbed in, rubbing his hands up and down his sleeved arms. He was clean, his hair wet while the strands appeared damn near frozen. His dirty clothing—vest and poncho included—was missing, likely in his pack. 

“Daryl Dixon, are you trying to end up with pneumonia again?!” Carol admonished. She shoved his bag out of the way quickly and tossed the last larger blanket around his shoulders. 

“C-c-couldn’a held ‘er like I w-w-was, right?” His teeth legitimately chattered, his gaze leaving Carol to look you over. “D-doin’ alright?”

You narrowed your eyes above the ghost of a smile. “Did you really go find a body of water to take a bath in the middle of winter?” 

“W-wouldn’a left ya but w-was d-d-dirty. Wanted t-to—wanna hold ‘er.” Once again, he was pale as milk but there was some color slowly seeping into his cheeks. Hershel wasn’t freaking out over his current state, so—contrary to the pressure threatening to choke you from the inside—you wouldn’t either. Daryl ran his tongue over colorless lips and ducked his head.  “If that’s alr-right?” 

Your mouth fell open, your brow furrowing while you blinked at him. Did he just— “Daryl, she’s your daughter. Of course you can hold her.” You were already moving an arm from beneath Thumper’s miniscule weight. When your hand found his, you pulled back with a hiss. “Maybe just get a little warmer first though, okay?” The archer nodded, but he still looked so uncertain. 

Hershel cleared his throat. He had remained still and silent throughout the exchange but then slowly crept down to sit on his knees at your hip. “In the meantime.” With a gesture toward Carol, he held out his hands. The cloth-clad placenta was placed onto his palms. It had apparently just been traveling around with Thumper wherever she roamed within the van. “Would you like to cut the cord, son?”

Still shivering but teeth no longer clicking together, Daryl’s expression molded into equal parts disgust and confusion. “The hell would I wanna do that?”

“It’s a tradition.” The old man explained. Carol was busy cleaning her knife with some rubbing alcohol. “It marks the start of life outside of the mother, when the father can begin to be physically involved in caring for the baby.”

The hunter brought his left thumb to his mouth, chewing on the side, granting a physical form to his inner anxiety. “Don’t it hurt ‘er?” You were curious as well, and you looked away from your partner to await the answer. 

“There are no nerves in the cord. She won’t feel a thing.”

Daryl drew back when Carol presented him with the knife. He looked to you. You shrugged a shoulder, careful not to jar Thumper. “It’s your decision.”

“Must be done. It doesn’t matter if it’s you or myself.” Hershel added. 

Lowering his hand from his teeth, Daryl eyed the knife. It was clear that he didn’t believe he wasn’t going to hurt his daughter. His thumb was replaced by his lower lip, jaw inching back and forth to gnaw at it earnestly. Without a word, he reached for the knife. Carol offered him a smile that he unsurprisingly didn’t return. 

“Where do—how does it—”

“I’ll help you.” The veterinarian reassured, balancing the organ on top of one hand while the other lifted the cord. “Right between the tape.” 

“Don’t that leave some’a it?” Daryl’s throat was visibly working as he swallowed. 

“That will dry up and fall off. I’ll show you both how to care for it until that happens.” 

The exhale was audible, undoubtedly something he didn’t intend but also didn’t take notice. Daryl’s hand was shaking, the blade carefully pressed to slice upward and away from the skin of your newborn. You held your breath, afraid any movement or sound would cause her to stir. If Daryl accidentally nicked her, there’d be no consoling him.

The cut was clean and quick, Thumper remaining sound asleep throughout. Your head tipped back against your pillow of blankets, relief flooding through you in a tingling wave that left you once again feeling wrung out. Half an hour was not enough. You wanted to sleep for days. 

Turning your head was a chore, but worth it. Daryl was ignoring everything that was happening below the two of you, his eyes dancing between you and his daughter. “I know.” You whispered. His gaze found yours. “She’s finally here.” He nodded, his lips slightly parted with words he couldn’t seem to articulate. “It’s a lot, Daryl. I know. It’s okay.” 

He was trembling, but you were certain it was no longer from the cold. His entire world had just changed. He was a father, and—judging by the look on his face, the turmoil in his pretty eyes—he was terrified. 

“Do you wanna hold her?” Your question was met with a sharp inhale, his spine straightening. 

“I—” 

You were already shifting the baby, shushing and cooing when she squeaked and stretched in protest. 

“You should bond with her too, Daryl.” Carol was sitting against the interior wall, looking her own personal sort of tired. “If you feel comfortable, um—” She turned her head to look away entirely, staring at the opposite wall. “You should let her lay against your skin.”

Bless him, he looked as though he might hyperventilate. “What if—she might—don’t wanna scare ‘er.” Daryl stared at Thumper, her little head moving back and forth as you offered her to him. You wouldn’t tell him the baby was too little to be scared. That would only leave him wondering if she’d be afraid of him later, when she was older. He was so convinced that his scars would make his daughter fear him. 

That anger you had felt before, the inferno of rage that had boiled beneath your ribs—it was back. Had they been still alive, you would strangle those people that had hurt him, scarred him so deeply. Beyond physical. But they were dead. And you were there. You would do your damnedest to show him a different perspective. That he was good and not a product of his father’s anger or his mother’s absence. That he was loved. 

“She isn’t afraid and she won’t be, not of you.” You vowed, pulling Thumper in against your own chest once more. With a hand then free, you raised the blanket and slid over with a grunt. The pain wasn’t horrible but you were definitely sore. “Get under here with me first.”

Maybe one day, he would be beyond the urge to hide that part of himself. Until then, however, you were more than content to help him find any measure of comfort you could offer. 

Daryl hesitated, giving you a quick once over. “Won’t hurtcha?” 

You smiled, small and tired but genuine. “No. Now get under here. Don’t make me drag you while holding a newborn. You know I can do it.” You challenged playfully. Maybe you could lighten the atmosphere. With a pfft, he took the blanket from your hand and shed the one around his shoulders, his eyes darting over to Hershel and Carol. They had knowingly turned their backs. You almost wished they would leave but having someone knowledgeable there was a comfort you weren’t ready to be without. You had no idea what you were doing. Once he was settled, you did your best to pull up the blanket until he took over. “Unbutton your shirt?”

“Dunno if—”

“She already loves you, Daryl. You were the one to calm her down when she was river dancing on my intestines. Just—try?” He sighed, his fingers slowly working open the buttons before stalling. “If you’re too uncomfortable with it, we’ll fix it, okay? I’ll take her and then you can put her on top of your shirt.”

The deep breath he took trembled but he continued until he could part his shirt enough for his chest to be visible. Even with only your eyes on him, he began to exhibit obvious anxiety. 

“It’s only me.” You whispered while maneuvering Thumper. He could actually hold her later, when there weren’t four of you cramped up in the back of an old van with stow-and-go seats. 

The man looked like he was two seconds from sliding out from beneath the blanket and bolting—until the moment the baby’s skin finally touched his own. His wide eyes drained of any trace of fear to make room for awe. 

“Holy fuck.” 

Watching him closely, those two words were meant to be part of the internal monologue he had going on inside his head. His calloused hands had never looked so gentle, laying across Thumper’s back. He immediately lifted one and placed the other there instead with the previous palm resting on her little diapered bottom.

“She s’posed to be this small?” His voice cracked. You turned onto your side, slowly and stiffly, while he silently let his gaze wander over to watch you move. Wiggling to find a comfortable position, you settled with your head on his shoulder and your fingertips brushing repeatedly over Thumper’s head.

“Hershel said she probably weighs around six pounds.” 

“S’that okay?” His thumb was swiping back and forth through the slightly darker blonde hair on the back of the baby’s head. 

“She’s perfect.” 

“Yeah.” He agreed, quietly. His head was tilted, angled to be able to see the little face of the human he helped create. “I, uh—thank you.” You lifted your head to stare him down, quiet yet questioning. “Y’know—for her.”

Your expression softened. Your hand lifted from Thumper to Daryl’s chin, guiding his head to turn. Stifling the grunt of discomfort that moving caused, you shimmied up just enough to press your lips to his. It was chaste but no less passionate. 

“None of that for at least six weeks. Minimum.” Hershel chided from the back of the van. 

Daryl huffed in annoyance, only slightly turning away to bark out “the hell’s ‘er mouth got to do with anythin’?” You laughed in spite of yourself, the action jarring and uncomfortable. 

Hershel even chuckled. “I mean no further, son. No intercourse. She needs to heal.” 

Damnit. You knew at that very moment, it would take you twelve weeks to coerce Daryl into actual sex. God, if your vagina wasn’t ruined after pushing out a whole human. Oh well, you’d be fine as long as he was still yours. You blinked, eyes glazed and thoughts wandering. He would still want you, right?

“Gotta make things weird, old man? Christ.”

Shaking your head, you pushed those worries aside for later. He was now warm and you had your personal space heater back. You molded yourself to his side and willed your body to relax. Daryl was there. Your little family was safe. Sleep laid its claim on you within moments. 

“Claire?” You suggested. Your hand alternated between rubbing and patting the back of the frustrated infant on your shoulder, coaxing out a burp that vibrated your collarbone. Don’t always need it, indeed. While Daryl sat across from you on the bed, rubbing the length of his left index finger across his lips, you adjusted Thumper to the opposite breast. Her little fists were flailing, her face scrunched up and red. The little squeaks and grunts were aplenty as she worked herself up to a squalling cry. “Ssh, here, Thumps.” The moment your nipple rubbed against her cheek, the baby rooted for it eagerly, latching on and suckling with gusto. 

“When she scrunches ‘er face like that, she looks like Merle.” Daryl snorted. His expression didn’t show it but his eyes held a distinct shimmer of sadness. 

“Wanna name her Merle? Merlene? Marleen?” You almost cackled at the look he pulled. “Okay, okay. I said Claire, grumpy gills.”

“Nah.” He sniffed and briefly glanced toward the window. You could hear the van and truck rolling in, hopefully with more supplies. “Makes me think’a that ear piercin’ place in all the malls.”

You thought about people that you had lost. Maybe you could honor them this way. “Andrea?” Daryl snorted. 

“She gonna shoot me when she gets older?” He took a deep breath and balanced his chin on his right palm, elbow pressed into his thigh. “Don’t really feel like she should be a Andrea.”

“Patricia?” You pressed on, stroking Thumper’s cheek with a fingertip. “We could call her Patty?”

“No.”

Your aunt maybe. “My aunt’s name was—actually, no. Nevermind.” This time, it was you that snorted. Daryl shook his head before he turned it back to the window. Thumper had released your nipple, even as her little mouth continued to try and suckle. “Can you burp her while I get all—” you gestured broadly toward your entire self. 

“Sure.” He slid off the mattress and leaned down to take his daughter, so carefully maneuvering her against the front of his shoulder. You kept your sights on him as he moved toward the window, offering the baby a little sunlight. 

You and Daryl slept in the van until the current safe house had been found. No one even woke the archer to help clear it. Probably because Thumps was still lying on his chest. Carol had been the one to wake the two of you, sending you into the bedroom while she heated as much water as she could for you to properly clean up and then to give the baby a warm bath.  Daryl held your daughter while you wiped her down. There was a fire burning in the living room and though you could feel the house slowly warming, neither of you wanted to take any risks. You removed the little knit hat from her head and took care in wiping away the remaining film over her skin. Patting her dry, you replaced the hat and moved on. Each area was bared, cleaned, and covered. You couldn’t help but smile when the archer looked away while you removed the diaper. You made it all the way to her feet before she woke up properly and started trying to suckle Daryl’s thumb.  “Barkin’ up the wrong tree, lil’ one. Gonna hafta talk to your mama if you’re hungry.”

And now here you were, tucking away your tits into a nursing bra while your partner rubbed the back of your perfect daughter by a sunlit window. Thumper was in a light blue sleeper onesie and wrapped in a pink blanket— littered with little birds—to make sure she stayed warm. 

You didn’t hear her burp but had no doubt that she did if he was taking her from his shoulder to the crook of his right arm. From your vantage point you couldn’t see much but you could tell Daryl was talking to her. 

While daddy and daughter were occupied, you laid back on the bed and stretched tired muscles. Your abdomen was still swollen but soft. It was your lady bits that were hot and sore. Forget taking a piss. You had nearly screeched when Daryl had accompanied you earlier, leaving Thumper with Carol. You were bleeding but thank god, Carol had warned you and handed you a couple of pads before you headed out the door. You hadn’t thought anything of it until you were standing over where you had urinated and it looked like a murder scene. 

“Jesus, it’s Nightmare on Elm St in my underwear.” You said as you rounded the tree. Daryl looked unamused.  “Ya gotta be so—graphic? Good lord.”

“Need to hunt soon.” Daryl spoke suddenly from the window. You sat back up with a wince just as he made his way back to you. 

“We have a lot of canned stuff. You don’t need to—”

“Doc said ya need protein to keep makin’ milk for her.” 

You didn’t want him to go anywhere. Logically, you knew it made sense. He was the only other hunter besides yourself. Canned veggies wouldn’t do much towards milk production and of course Daryl had asked about it already. Hershel had been pleased that Thumper was appearing satisfied with the colostrum you were producing, but she would need more even within just the next few days. 

“When?” You tracked him as he lowered to the edge of the mattress just in front of you. The baby’s little hand was curled around his middle finger and you weren’t sure he cared about anything else enough to divert his attention away from his newborn. “Daryl.” You chuckled. 

“Yeah?” He still wasn’t paying attention. 

“Purple because aliens don’t wear hats.” 

“Mhm.” Had he ever been this distracted? You called his name again amidst a laugh, each syllable bouncing. Finally, he looked up. Straight ahead first, as if forgetting where you were sitting. Then it was over to you. “You say somethin’?” 

“Welcome back.”

He mocked a laugh and then deadpanned. “Funny girl.”

Your smile remained steadfast. “When are you going out to hunt?” 

“Thought I’d leave in the mornin’. Y’know, stick ‘round to help ya tonight an’ make sure ya both’re all good ‘fore I go. Try to bring back all I can so that—” His mouth was still open, but the words stopped altogether. His brow drew inward. “Think this diaper’s toast.”

Oh god. 

The first diaper change.  

“Should I get Carol?” You asked in earnest. You had never changed a diaper before and Daryl had never indicated he had any experience either. Still, he shook his head. 

“Gotta learn sometime, right? Between the two’a us, how hard can it be?”

The answer: really fucking hard. 

“Daryl, you have to look!” 

“Don’t feel right to see ‘er—areas.”

“You’re her father and you’re trying to change her. It’s fine. You’re gonna get it all over your hands if you don’t look.”

“S’it s’posed to be that color?” 

“How the hell should I know? Can you hand me the wipes?” 

“What wipes?”

“You didn’t grab the wipes?”

“No?” 

“Was that a question?” 

“No?”

“Daryl.”

“Y/N.”

“Get the wipes.”

Twenty minutes later, Thumper was snoozing comfortably on the mattress, wrapped snugly in her blanket without a care in the world. You and Daryl, however, were staring at the small creature, appearing every bit as though you were trapped in the flashbacks of war. 

“I don’t think it’s supposed to take that long.” You finally commented. 

“Walker guts don’t even look like that.” Daryl’s voice was just as quiet and monotonous as your own. 

“It didn’t even smell. Shouldn’t it smell bad?”

“You’re complainin’?” 

“Touché.”

When Carol knocked, your heads moved in unison, two sets of wide, troubled eyes landing on the woman in the doorway. Her eyebrows shot upward, lowering slowly as she took in the scene: you and Daryl cross-legged on the mattress. Thumper just a few inches away. Wipes and a rolled up diaper on the floor below the foot of the bed. Her hand flew to her mouth, pressing against it to smother the chuckle that tried so hard to break free. 

“You two okay?” She finally asked, clearing her throat. 

“We look okay?” Daryl rasped. 

She struggled against laughter again. “You look like two first time parents discovering one of the joys of a newborn.” 

“We need help.” You were practically pleading, feeling horrible to ask it of the woman who had lost her only child. Daryl’s expression was just as desperate even if he would never grant it a voice. 

“Okay, let’s go over the basics.” Carol shook her head fondly and closed the door behind her. 

Several feedings and diaper changes later, Thumper was asleep between you and Daryl. Night had stolen the sun and a candle burned on the bedside table behind you. She was so far a quiet baby, only crying when she was hungry and would squeak and grunt when her diaper was soiled. 

“Expressing herself in grunts and other noncommittal sounds. She’s totally your kid.” You teased.  “Shuddup.”

Daryl’s hand was on the baby’s stomach, likely just as much for his benefit as hers. He was dozing, making a valiant effort to stay awake with little success. You were just as tired but you couldn’t seem to coerce your eyes away from your partner and daughter. Daryl had been so attentive and tender with you while you carried Thumper but seeing him physically interact with her was an entirely different experience. 

Once again, it was likely something he would internalize but he was absolutely in love. That little thing lying between the two of you had already stolen his whole heart. If you had any doubt of his desire and ability to be her dad,—which you didn’t—that would be long gone now. 

When you weren’t nursing her, she was with Daryl. He talked to her in hushed whispers like sharing secrets he’d never speak to another living soul. And she slept or stared at him while he stared right back. She had the bluest of eyes but Carol said they might not remain that way. 

You hoped they did. 

When she looked at you, you could feel her curiosity and adoration. You were her mother and she knew. She knew your voice, your touch. She knew Daryl. Carol said Thumper could only see in shapes and shades of gray, but you didn’t believe that. Not for a second. They way she would stare at Daryl, her little fingers squeezing the edge of her pink bird blanket. No, you didn’t believe that. 

“Think I gotta name for ‘er.” Daryl spoke suddenly, words rough off his tongue, laced with exhaustion. You smiled. 

“Oh yeah?” You wondered if he was even awake or aware of what he was saying. His eyelids were heavy, flickering open every few seconds. 

“Yeah. S’okay if ya don’t like it. Don’t really make no sense.”

You laughed within a breath, reaching to brush the hair off his forehead. When he didn’t speak for a moment, you found yourself too curious to let it go. “Are you gonna tell me?” 

He took a deep breath, eyes still closed, with an mhm during the exhale. His index finger was gently rubbing back and forth over Thumper’s little hand while she had it fisted into her blanket. 

You almost moved your hand to his shoulder to shake him awake, but refrained. He was—like you—exhausted, and within that state, he was emotionally vulnerable. You almost felt as if you were taking advantage of that, but there was a realization that you wanted him to name her. So, you would wait. Let him sleep or listen when he was ready to tell you. 

“Birdie.” He finally breathed. Without opening his eyes, he moved his finger to tap one of the birds on the blanket. “Birdie Jade.”

You felt the wet tickle of a tear running across the bridge of your nose and wiped it away before it could sting your other eye. Sniffling, you ran your fingers through the hair above Daryl’s ear. His eyes finally opened, clear and sharp, watching, waiting for your reaction. 

You pulled back your hand and laid it on top of his, over the baby’s blanket. 

“Hi, Birdie.”

[aurorawritestoescape]

THE BURGLARY

written with @milla-frenchy

Pairing: burglar!Joel Miller x f!reader x burglar!Tommy Miller

Summary: two men break into your house and take more than just your valuables.

TW: 18+ mdni. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. NON-CON. Smut. Violence, suffocation, knife/gun play, penetration with a gun, mfm, bondage, degradation, praise, oral (male receiving), a depraved game, butt and pussy slapping, unprotected piv, creampies, cum eating, swearing.

Word count: 4,6k

A/n: @milla-frenchy and I wrote this fic as our contribution to Dead Dove December by @romana-after-dark. Romana, thank you for hosting this amazing event celebrating dark fic! @milla-frenchy I had so much fun writing with you! I love you, baby!❤️🫂Dividers by @saradika-graphics

If you’re sensitive to any of the warnings, do not read the fic! We don’t condone the actions of the characters. It is all fictional!

MILLA’S MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

You’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the sound of water filling the tub is calming and hypnotizing. You’re wearing nothing but a pink robe, soft and warm. You untie it and open it wide before your gaze travels down to your breasts. You cup them gently and rub the nipples with your thumbs. They perk up at the touch and you flutter your eyes shut as the waves of arousal are spreading through every nerve in your body. One hand leaves your breast and glides down to caress your tummy and then mound. You dip your finger in between your folds and swirl it around your slightly wet clit. When you open your eyes, the mirror reflects your blown pupils back to you. You contemplate getting your vibrator from the drawer and using it in the bath. Your husband is away on a business trip and he won’t be back for a few more days but the idea of waiting for him to satisfy your desire excites you so you take a deep breath trying to calm down.

You take the robe off and hang it next to the sinks. You turn around, come up to the already full tub and bend over to check the water temperature. This is when he grabs you.

The iron grip of his hand is holding your wrists behind your back. His bulge is pushing in between your naked asscheeks. He’s big and strong and you’re helpless against him. He’s keeping you bent over the full bath and then pushes your torso down. Your head is submerged in the tub and you scream and thresh about but your cries are completely silenced by the water suffocating you. Your attempts to break free are fruitless. His fist is clenching your hair and it burns like hell but the pain in your burning lungs overshadows everything else. You’re trying to free yourself from his hold, to kick him and push him away but his beastly strength doesn’t let you.

You’re about to black out when he lifts your head by your hair and your mouth finally takes a life-giving breath. You cough and cry trying to get as much oxygen as he lets you and exclaim, “No, no, stop it, please!”

He growls and pulls your torso up and flush against his chest. You’re covered in water droplets, already cold and shivering but for another reason. The stranger might kill you and the thought makes you tremble and beg for mercy,

“I’ll give you everything, I’ll do anything! Pls let me go..”

You’re crying and screaming but he’s deaf to your pleas. You feel his breath on your cheek and he bites it. He doesn’t break the skin but the pain makes you wail. The man shakes your body and laughs, “Silly girl, the louder you scream the harder it’ll make me.”

Your back is pressed to his broad chest and your whole body is shaking as if electricity is going through every part of you.

“I saw you touching yourself, little slut. Made me hard like a rock,” he bucks his hips into your ass and you feel his clothed hard-on. “I coulda just taken what I wanted and left. But now I think I’ll take this pussy too.” He slaps your mound a little harder than a lover would and a whine escapes your lips.

“Started without me?”

You feel even more terrified if it’s even possible when you hear another voice.

“Nah, just gave this pretty slut a wash. Don't wanna touch her husband's crusted cum on her. We gonna leave our own.”

“Right, brother.” They laugh and you feel you might be sick. It can’t be happening. The sobs are shaking your body as you’re trying to turn your head to the side so you could see the new man.

“Please, let me go,” you plead, hoping the other intruder will be kinder to you.

The first attacker yanks your whole body to the side, turning you away from the tub so you’d face the second man. Your tears make his image blurry, resembling a dark shadow. He’s wearing all black and his face is hidden behind a balaclava. He sounds younger than the other one and is not as huge but he’s still bigger than you. He comes up close, takes your wet cheeks between his gloved fingers and pushes making your lips pout. You mewl and they both laugh. His other hand darts to your mound and he grabs your pussy squeezing your flesh with his harsh fingers. You whine and he looks at the other attacker over your shoulder, “She’s so soft and pretty. Can’t wait to use her.”

His accomplice hums in agreement, pressing his covered chin to your cheek and rubbing your delicate skin with the material of his mask, “need her to open the safe first.”

The second man agrees and steps out of the way while you’re being pushed to the door and into the master bedroom. You walk clumsily but as soon as you reach the doorframe you push all your weight to the side making your capturer crash into the door. Startled for a moment he eases his grip on you and you launch forward. The wetness of your body helps you to slip out of his hands and you’re running out of the room and along the hall crying for help as loud as you can.

Thoughts rush through your head as you realize that you need to get out of the house. So you race to the stairs but as soon as you reach them a hand grips your hair and pulls you back. It hurts and you try to break free but the man overpowers you with ease, drops his weight on you and you both fall on the floor. He grumbles and you realize that it’s the second intruder. He grabs your hands and ties your wrists behind your back with a rope.

“Stop, please, no!” you cry out, feeling pain in your scalp and body but the ache is dull as all your senses are fully focused on survival.

“Slippery bitch!” the younger man spits out and having restrained your hands, sits up on the back of your thighs panting heavily. He slaps your naked asscheek and you sob, tears soaking the carpet.

You hear steps and the first man comes up to you from the side. “Nice try, little slut,” he mocks you, pushing your shoulder lightly with the tip of his black boot. He orders to take you back to the bedroom.

You’re sitting on the floor in front of the safe in your walk-in closet. The men are towering behind you not afraid of you running away as your hands are securely restrained and you look and feel exhausted from the nerves and your attempts to break free.

The bigger man crouches next to you and his gloved fingers grasp your hair. Like a puppeteer he turns your head to him and rumbles, “Password, sweetie.” You begin saying the numbers immediately not seeing the point in protecting your valuables while your life is at stake.

“Please, take everything, just let me go… please,” you beg with a shaking voice but a carnal grin flashes in the opening of his balaclava and panic grips your heart.

“Open your pretty mouth, sweetheart,” he coos at you with a fake care as the other man chuckles and you see him bringing a knife to your face. It looks like a switchblade. You start pleading and crying again, horrifying images flooding your mind. Not waiting for you to calm down, the intruder turns the knife handle up and inserts it into your mouth.

“Hold it,” he orders, “just imagine it’s your husband’s dick. Bite it real hard, I’m sure you’re mad at him for leaving you alone now.”

He pushes your head down to the safe and you bend over awkwardly trying not to fall, knife between your teeth.

You hear the other man’s voice, “Press the buttons for us, princess, come on,” his voice is soft but it makes your hair stand up.

You sob and the knife nearly falls out of your mouth but you clench your teeth around it more tightly and bring the blade to the buttons.

“That’s our girl,” the first man mumbles, as his hand in your hair keeps you from falling.

You push the numbers with the tip of the blade and hear beeps. “You have a nice ass, baby,” the second intruder comments, apparently ogling your butt while you are bending over. You hear a click of the safe door and they push you out of the way hurrying to get their hands on the things they came for. At least you hope they came just for that.

You look up at them, wondering what they're going to do to you. You still hope they will leave, now that you've opened the safe for them.

You try not to panic and focus on your breathing. You can see their dark eyes through the openings of their balaclavas. They look at each other communicating without a word, and then the bigger one turns to you.

“How much time do we have?” he asks his accomplice, his gaze locked with yours.

“Half an hour, easy,” the other man replies.

Your hairs stand up and your breath catches in your throat. You feel that your brain is trying to convince itself that they are not going to hurt you more. You don't dare imagine what they are capable of.

The younger one grabs you by both arms and forces you to get up.

“We have plenty of time to have a little fun,” he laughs, dragging you towards your bedroom. You try to resist, but in vain. He turns around and pushes you against the wall. His hand grips your throat and you watch him in fear as he removes his balaclava. He has brown, shoulder-length wavy hair, and a mustache. The fact that he is uncovering his face terrifies you. These men don't care if you can describe them, and you wonder if you will make it out alive.

He brings his face closer to yours, to the point where your noses could touch, and leans his pelvis against you. You feel his hard cock on your lower belly and the last hope your mind was trying to cling to is now gone. He tilts his head to the side and smiles, looking at you. You hear his brother laugh behind him and say “you’re a fuckin’ psycho, Tommy.” He takes off his balaclava as well, and his face appears behind his brother. He has short, brown hair, a light beard and a mustache. You try to memorize their faces, in case you can describe them to the police. Later.

That “later” fades away when Tommy moves closer to your cheek and slowly licks his way to your cheekbone. You start shaking like a leaf and he laughs, unties your hands behind your back, and grabs your arm before tugging you after him. He pushes you onto the bed, where you fall on your back.

You try to get up, but the other man pulls a gun out of the back of his jeans and points it at you,

“You’re starting to piss me off, sweetheart, so I’m gonna set things straight. We'll fuck you and then we’ll leave. If you struggle, you'll turn us on even more. If you scream, we'll fuck you harder. Do I make myself clear?”

His icy voice, his words stop you and you lie down again. He hands the gun to Tommy and says “I’m gonna need my hands.”

You widen your eyes when he unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock. Thick. Much too big.

“Oh, sweetie, judging by your reaction, your husband has a small dick,” he says, laughing again. His brother chuckles too and adds, “She’s so not ready for our cocks, Joel.” He grabs your legs and pulls them towards him to lay you down.

Joel approaches the bed, slowly jerking off, and kneels on the bed at your side, before bringing his cock closer to your face, “Now you’re gonna suck me off, sweetheart. And after any dumb move from you, my brother will blow your brains out, ok?”

You nod. Your only hope now is that they end this quickly. You try to put aside another source of anxiety that is gnawing at your heart - their uncovered faces.

Joel taps your face with his cock twice before you part your lips slightly, and he says "Sweetie, open wide, or it ain’t gonna fit". You hold back the tears that are stinging your eyes, and you open your mouth wider. He slides the tip into your mouth, and you round your lips around it. He doesn't wait any longer, and sinks into you, holding your head in his hands.

He stops halfway down his member, then pulls back, before thrusting in with one stroke, making you choke. You hear Tommy laugh and can no longer hold back your tears as panic overtakes you and amplifies your suffocation. “Stop it, Tommy, you’re scaring the little thing!” Joel says with a chuckle.

He pulls out of your mouth and releases your head, and you feel Tommy get between your thighs. You murmur, “No, please”, but Joel adds, “Come on, sweetheart, my little brother needs to get his dick wet, too, right?”

Tommy rubs his cock against your folds, then against your clit. His tip rubs it several times, and to your horror you feel your pussy getting wet.

“Little slut is so wet for our cocks, Joel, can you believe it?”

“They always are. All fuckin’ whores.”

Tommy pulls back a little and looks at his cock, before slowly pushing it into your pussy, and growls "Fuck...she's tight, man." You wince as you feel your folds parted.

“Point your gun at her. I’m gonna fuck her throat, I don’t want her to do anything stupid.”

Tommy cocks his gun at your head and starts fucking you, thrusting deeper. Joel grabs your temples with his hands again, and his erect cock sinks in your mouth. He grips your head tighter, and quickly fucks your mouth, grunting. Your saliva pools against his member, and he is thrusting deeper and deeper, at the same pace as his brother is fucking your pussy. His cock hits the back of your throat, and he suddenly pauses, holding your nose pressed against his pubes.

“Don’t move, sweetie.”

You try to calm down, your mind in shock at what’s happening to you. In your home, where you should be safe. He finally pulls away, before thrusting in again, yet not going all the way to your throat.

“You’re taking us good, baby”, Tommy says, leaning over you and pressing his nose to your neck, the gun against your temple.

Still fucking your mouth, Joel tells his brother,“Stretch her with the gun. The handle. Let’s see if her little pussy can take it. Afraid I’ll split her in two with my cock.”

You want to scream, your mouth full of Joel’s cock, but only a vague moan leaves your mouth.

“And I’m the psycho?” Tommy laughs, pulling out and sitting up.

Joel pulls out too, and moves away from you with his hard cock in his hand, watching Tommy position the handle of the gun at your entrance with one gloved hand, and pressing your stomach with the other to hold you against the bed. He pushes gently and you cry out, “No, please stop, it won’t fit!”

“We’ll make it fit. You’re wet enough to take it.”

He keeps pushing, and the tip of the handle sinks into you.

“Say ‘thank you’ to Tommy for stretching you, sweetheart.”

You feel like you're going to pass out. You look at their faces, their eyes fixed on your pussy dilated around the gun, and you try to relax. A part of you wants to rebel and fight, but the other one takes over, knowing that you have no way out of this.

“Look, Joel, she's dripping. Good that we’re using the handle, she woulda ruined the barrel with her wetness,” Tommy comments and they laugh again degrading you.

“Ok, pull it out. She’s ready. Gonna fuck her now”, Joel says and adds, “Get on all fours.”

You don't move, too scared at the idea of what happens next, and Tommy points the muzzle at your forehead. Your tears start to fall again and you finally turn around, exposing your ass to Joel and standing on your hands and knees on the bed.

“I forgot that you had such a nice ass, sweetie!”

“Please… don’t do that”, you whimper with sobs in your voice.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna damage your ass. Don’t have the time for that. There’s one more thing we’ll have to do, after we’re done with you.”

You don't have time to ask or even think what they want to do next, Tommy is already on the bed pressing his cock against your mouth. Joel grabs your hips with his hands, and thrusts into you in one swift move. You suffocate under the intrusion, and Tommy pushes his cock in between your lips.

“Come on, baby, be a good girl and let me fuck this wet hole of yours,” Joel mumbles opening your thighs wider and begins fucking you with quick thrusts. Then he slides his hand down to your clit and you try to shake your head, but Tommy holds you tight, his cock buried in your mouth.

Joel coos at you, “Come on, sweetheart, wanna feel your pussy squeeze my big cock.”

You try to resist, but his finger slides against your clit perfectly. You tell yourself that it will end faster if he gets what he wants and let your mind retreat, and the emotions in your body take over. You feel your orgasm building, and your pussy begins to contract.

“Tommy… little slut is clenching my dick so hard, and she hasn't come yet”, he groans with a smile.

Tommy pulls your hair with his hand, and pushes his cock into your mouth one more time, before pulling out, gloved fingers clasped around his shaft. You moan, and cum on Joel's cock while your eyes roll back and your legs are shaking. He’s groaning, feeling your spasms around his cock, “Fuckin’ hell, little slut must be so bored with her husband.”

Tommy’s carnal gaze is sliding down your body and he looks manic when he lifts his eyes at Joel and asks with a smile, “wanna play like that time?”

Joel looks back at him, pulls out of your crying pussy and chuckles, “you’re fucking crazy, brother.”

“Why?” Tommy mumbles running his gloved hand through your messy hair. He looks right into your eyes drinking your fear and his cock twitches.

“The last one wanted it. This one looks too gentle.”

Tommy leans over you bringing his face so close you smell cigarettes on his breath and tells Joel,

“She might surprise us, brother. I’m sure she’s freaky. Aren’t you, princess?”

He grabs your pussy and you gasp. Your gaze darts to Joel who watches his brother’s fingers massage your wet folds and begins stroking his cock,

“Fuck, yeah, let’s do it. If she chokes my cock till I come… might spare her.”

You hear his words and sobs are about to break out of your chest but Tommy senses it and places his free hand over your mouth, “we’ll play one game, princess and then we’ll leave, deal?”

He’s waiting for the answer but you can’t agree without knowing what this psycho means so you just stare at him with fearful eyes.

He straightens up glancing at his brother, “Fuck, I forgot I don’t have to ask cos I have this,” he takes out a gun from his waistband and waves it at you.

“On your mark, brother,” he says to Joel and the bigger man grabs your legs and pulls you roughly on the bed towards him. His cock pushes between your folds and you moan.

“See! The whore loves it!” Tommy points at your with his gun, triumphant smile on his face and you feel a tip of a cock thrust into you. Joel’s huge member parts your folds again and you plead for him to stop but he doesn’t hold back as its head jams right into your cervix after a couple of deep and hard thrusts.

“Hey, hey, Joel. You’ll come too soon! Where’s fun in that?”

Joel pauses his movements deep inside you and you look at the men with confusion and fear twisting your face. What game are they going to play with you? And are you going to survive it?”

“Ready?” Tommy asks and you catch your breath waiting for the worst. Then Tommy leans down a little and slaps your pussy with his leathered palm, just a few inches from the place where his brother’s cock is buried deep inside you. You cry out when the pain catches you off guard and to your horror realize that it’s quickly mixing with pressure. Joel grunts shutting his eyes for a second and then opens them to glance at his brother, “Fuck, you were right. She’s squeezing me real good. Fucking chocking my cock, little slut.”

You sense your walls contract around his girthy length and you hate yourself for it. “That’s just one”, Tommy warns as he lands another blow to your tortured pussy. “Two,” he counts and you mewl, your eyes rolling back while Joel’s groaning through his teeth and plants his hands on the bed at your sides.

“What is it, brother? She’s so pretty and sweet that you’re about to come already?” Tommy mocks the man and Joel looks up at him with a pained and angry expression.

Tommy backs off with his hands in the air still chuckling and then comes back to slap your clit again.

As soon as he says, “Three” you feel warmth filling your pussy up as Joel is coming with a long growl grasping your hips leaving white marks on your soft skin. He starts thrusting into your core again pumping you full of his spend and you feel sick when your core is tightening. You won’t come. You won’t give it to him.

“Holy fuck, princess, you have a magic pussy. To make my bro bust a nut just after three slaps!” He laughs and takes your head in his hands kissing your mouth. First as a joke he pecks your lips but after parting from you for a second he comes back for more as his tongue pushes between your lips. You freeze when he’s stealing another part of you, licking into your mouth while his brother prolongs his climax with short thrusts into your swollen pussy.

Finally Tommy parts from you and straightens up grabbing his cock. “Fuck, Joel, my turn. This bitch is so hot.” He looks into your eyes while Joel pulls out his semi hard cock, and you feel his cum leaking out of your stretched hole and slide down to your asshole.

The men switch positions and now Joel is standing over you while Tommy gets on the bed between your shaking legs. He sits on his heels staring at your hole and says in a calm but stern voice, “Squeeze it out, princess.” It’s so sick that you’re blinking at him until suddenly he directs his gun at you and repeats his command a little louder, “I said squeeze out the cum, little slut!”

You swallow loudly and tighten your muscles. With a satisfied grin he’s watching a string of milky liquid flow out of your hole.

“We need to hurry up,” Joel rumbles, zipping up his pants.

“Yeah, yeah…” Tommy replies, seemingly deaf to his brother’s words, his gaze fully focused on your pussy.

Still having his gloves on he brings his hand to your folds and pushes two fingers into your hole. Then he takes them out and climbs over your body. Without a word be pushes the leathered digits between your lips,with an order, “Clean them up, princess.” You do as you’re told, tasting Joel’s bitter cum and leather on your tongue.

“Good slut,” Tommy half praises half degrades you watching your tongue swirl around his covered digits.

“Fuck, Tommy, come on!” Joel hurries up his brother and the younger man finally listens, gets between your thighs and pushes his cock in with a growl. He slides in easily, your pussy wet with Joel’s cum and stretched out well.

“Come on, baby, let’s win this thing,” he says and you mewl, knowing what’s coming next.

Joel’s hand hits your pussy harsher than Tommy’s and you jolt from the pain. The younger man is hissing through his teeth looking at your swollen reddish folds. He shivers and grips your hips tighter. “Fuck you’re choking my cock, baby!”

Joel doesn’t wait long to stroke you again and a tear slides down the side of your face. Tommy shuts his eyes tilting his head back and as another slap lands on your poor clit you moan and squeeze Tommy’s cock so well it pushes him over. His balls tighten and he shoots his cum deep inside your core. His seed mixes with Joel’s and it’s too much cum for your poor pussy so it leaks out of you in globs pushed out by Tommy’s cock still moving inside you. When he stills panting heavily, he pulls out and announces, “Three-three, bro! Guess we’re both suckers for her pussy”. He tucks his cock away hastily and when he’s ready he leans over your swollen mound and gives it a peck, whispering, “killer-pussy!”

Joel is already gathering the things they’re taking with them and you’re lying not moving a muscle wishing for them to forget about you and leave. But soon Joel comes up to the bed and you see a phone in his hand. He reaches to your face and you flinch, “Shhh, sweetheart, it’s gonna be over soon. Just wanna take a few photos, for the memories,” he mocks you with a smirk trying to fix your messy hair and wiping your face with his sleeve.

“Give me, I’ll do it,” Tommy appears from behind Joel taking the phone from his brother. He directs the camera at your face and commands, “Smile, princess, show us how happy you’re that we’re leaving.”

You smile weakly and he takes a few photos of you splayed on the bed, marks covering your skin. He makes you open your legs and takes a photo of your pussy leaking out their spend on your marital bed. Then he’s checking the photos and mumbles talking to you ,

“You’re a great fuck, princess. Can’t believe your asshole of a husband gets to have you whenever he wants…he’ll have a hard time filling your pussy after we stretched you that good,” he laughs and adds, “we might come back for more one day.” He says it in a seemingly benign manner looking into your eyes but you see a threat rooted in his words. “Keep your little mouth shut and forget our faces or these pictures of you will be everywhere. Surely your hubby will have to say bye-bye to his political career. You got me?” His gaze is serious and intent and you nod hastily.

Your heart is beating fast when you see Tommy take black bags from Joel. Will they keep their promise and leave you alive?

“Take care, princess,” you hear Tommy’s voice as he puts his balaclava back on and walks out of the door. Joel doesn’t say anything. With his face already covered he heads to the door, stops right outside and turns his head to you. He brings his gloved finger to his lips in a silent sign, and then leaves as quietly as he came.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!❤️

[divinelolita]

bttm m!reader edging 2008!tom with a cock ring while giving him a blow job :3 ?

08' TOM KAULITZ X MALE READER

cw: nsfw content, cock rings, domsub! reader, service top! tom, edging, orgasm denial, oral sex, crying, reader is kinda meannn ;<

a/n: hii! ik i havent written alot/engaged alot and i apologize. i've been focusing on my mental health more, and there's alot going on. ty to all of you who like my work, i try my best for uu! :D

"Ohhhhhmyygohhd..."

Tom dragged out as he threw his head back against the wooden bedframe, his jaw going slack as your pink tongue swirled around his tip. You hummed quietly, feeling his thighs tremble beneath you.

Tom couldn't fucking stand it. Your warm, velvety mouth was wrapped tightly around his throbbing length, running along the sensitive underside of his veins. He'd cry out, hand clenching into fists. He knew better than to touch you, push you away, while you were in charge.

And it certainly didn't help him much that there was a tight cock ring locked around his dick, preventing him from reaching the high he was so desperate for. He let out a little cry as the ache in his balls grew, his tip flushing a deep shade of violet.

"B-baby....m' sorry, so sorry...le'mme cum, pleaseuh?"

His voice was strained as he panted, pleaded, for your permission. You only let out a small giggle -god you were infuriating- as your soft, plump lips suckled on his tip. He let out a little whine, eyelashes fluttering as the ache in his lower abdomen only increased.

"P-please, baby? Let me cum..." He shakily whispered, his veiny hands reaching down to tug on your soft locks. You let out a little "hmph" as you slapped them away. He panted, mewling when you only doubled in your efforts, bobbing your head up and down his length.

He let out a sob, his thighs trembling wildly. His legs flailed, trying to close shut. You huffed, hands firmly pressing his thighs apart.

"Stop misbehaving and stay still. You'll take what I give you, is that fucking clear?"

You ground out as you slurped along his cock. When he only whimpered in response, you narrowed your eyes and scraped your teeth along his sensitive tip. Not too harsh, but enough to where he gasped out loudly.

"Y-yes..." He shakily sobbed, cock throbbing wildly as pre-cum dribbled onto your tongue. Poor baby. He was so close to cumming, but you were positive he wouldn't. Couldn't. The ring was far too right...

"Yes, what?" You hum as you bob your head up and down faster, feeling his tip run along the back of your throat. The vibrations from your hums go straight up his sensitive cock, making him wail loudly.

"Y-yes, I understand!" He pants, eyes dazed and rolled back. His hands grip tightly on the sheets- so tight you're almost worried he'll rip them to shreds. His dreads were cascading down his shoulders, his hairband which kept them up thrown somewhere and long forgotten.

"Good." You respond quietly as you continue, kitten licking his sensitive slit making him shake like crazy. "Good boy. My good boy..."