#daddy beatrice

[foryourmajesty]

"You should be careful what you wish for, Ava." -based on the vampire AU in my veins that i like very very much 💙

[ogenoger]

& I liked it

[brenshor]

I'll take any excuse to call her daddy

[knightsofrayx]

Once more playing in @daisychainsandbowties LB-verse ‘cause brainrot 

A mural of The Ones, the living embodiments of the Force. the Son, the Fanged God. the Daughter, the Winged Goddess. the Father, the Keeper of the Balance. Emblazoned on the walls of the Lothal Jedi Temple, this painting of the Gods of Mortis serves as a gateway to the World Between Worlds.

[delicioustrashkitty]

So... based on what has father Vincent done and based on his relationship with the nuns... He caused them all daddy issues, didnt he?

[yourgirlsarchived]

@tangleweave​ | Continued

       This hadn’t been the usual dance with Fisk tonight, Venom’s presence not withstanding. But it doesn’t much matter right now. Typically, their rules were clear about what goes on with suits. They don’t interact, or interact as little as humanly possible. 

But they’ve been sort of breaking that rule. Tonight is absolutely obliterating it. At least they’re far from prying eyes, so Petra can, and does meet the kiss. No straining against his hold or him, relaxing instead. Where she should be upset with Eddie for dragging the bottom half of her suit off her - instead her heart skips a beat. Her end of the kiss takes on a frantic edge just before he pulls away. 

The familiar touch has her gasping. Seeing his smirk, feeling a definite thrill that they’re fooling around right now Feeling particularly bold in light of that, she closes her legs around his hand, rocking against it.

 “Well, Petra drawls quietly. “There is this one thing I’ve been wanting from my daddy. Dunno if you’re up for it tonight, big guy, might wear you out before we get to the right...level. Think you can fill me so much it’s obvious - at least for a little while - though if it was permanent I wouldn’t be too upset about it.” That last part isn’t exactly true. The idea’s fun, and hopefully he picks up on that. 

[frimleyblogger]

Dance To Your Daddy

A review of Dance to your Daddy by Gladys Mitchell – 240731 The forty-second novel in Mitchell’s long-running Mrs Bradley series, originally published in 1969, is for an author who is often someone who can be described as challenging one of her more accessible and successful pieces of work. While there are some distinctly contemporary references such as a namecheck for Sandie Shaw’s Puppet on a…

[fxirytxlcfxtc]

Tag Dump - 9/9

[jokerislandgirl32]

This is so cool, loving her design! I totally think she repurposed Zach’s failed Mechanical Mantis Arms invention to create this!

Bea Concept

I was thinking about it and it seemed cool to put some arachnid robotic prostheses on her. She uses them to grab things and capture animals.

I'm in exams lately :C, but I would love to draw her interacting with the brothers or other villains (even ocs). Hope u like it <3

[hihomeghere]

Dreams | Arthur Morgan/Reader

Word Count : 1.1k Summary : Arthur starts having dreams of starting a family with you Warnings/tags : Cursing, fluff, mention of infidelity, just Arthur being a sweet guy <3

He knows he shouldn’t feel like this. Shouldn’t be having these thoughts, because all they are just dreams. They’re never going to become a reality. Not when they’re constantly on the move, running from place to place. He sees the way it affects Jack, poor kid, not knowing what the hell is going on. And his daddy doesn’t exactly help him understand. 

He can’t even say he would be a better father, he wasn’t before. 

Hell you two ain’t even married yet, and he’s not that much of a fool. Not anymore. His regret for not marrying Eliza weighs heavily on him most days, even if he didn’t love her in that way. Now you on the other hand, he loves you more than anything. More than this stupid gang, more than life itself. He would happily lay down his life if he knew you would be happy, safe. 

When these thoughts enter his head, he can’t say. His days sort of blend together, making it hard to pinpoint. Although seeing you interact with Jack doesn’t help. 

You are so sweet, so motherly, hell you even mother the younger folks in the gang. Soft touches, kind words, but internally strong. You have all the qualities he finds attractive in a woman. Somehow you fell for him just as hard as he fell for you. 

But he ain’t a fool, he knows this ain’t the right time or place. So instead he writes down all these dreams in his journal, his safe place. The place where he can say anything without being judged. He dreams of little girls, he didn’t know how to interact with Isaac. Too afraid of being his own father. Girls seem less daunting, and a little you would be perfect. He already has one angel, what’s one more?

He comes up with the name while north of Brandywine Drop. The bright purple flowers caught his eye just off the trail.

Violet.

Violet Beatrice Morgan.

His heart sings, scribbling the name down in the margins of his journal. He finds himself writing VM in his journal, smiling foolishly to himself. It’s beautiful, his precious flower. 

It’s not like you meant to snoop. You were looking for Arthur, since he was nowhere to be found. You entered his tent, which in reality wasn’t much of a tent at all, finding his journal open. You walked over to it, looking over the worn page. There were the normal doodles he drew, along with his flowing hand writing. But one thing stood out to you, a pair of initials circled by hearts. VM.

You furrowed your brows, you couldn’t think of anyone you knew with the initials VM. Those definitely weren’t your initials either. 

With your curiosity peaked you flipped through a couple more pages. VM was written everywhere, along with those damn little hearts. 

You felt that little green monster grow inside you the further you looked into his journal. Biting your cheek so hard you could taste blood. It did nothing to quench the fire inside of you. 

“Darlin?” Arthur called walking into the so-called tent. You dropped the journal back onto the table, turning to face him. “There you are.” He grinned walking towards you.

“Here I am.” You said forcing a smile.

“Hosea said you were looking for me.” He said softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "Anything you need?”

“Must have forgot.” You said with a noncommittal shrug, “I ought to get back to work.” You nod walking past him. Arthur furrowed his brow at your attitude. Did he say something to offend you?

Then his eyes fall onto his open journal. His stomach drops at the sight. Jesus, you saw. You saw all of it. You were probably thinking the worst, seeing the initial surrounded by hearts. How was he gonna fix this?

You stomped off to the edge of camp, trying to wrack your brain as to who this VM could be. And why was Arthur drawing hearts beside the initials? Maybe you had this all wrong, Arthur would never do anything to hurt you. He was a good man, a man you could trust. Wasn't he?

“Y/n!” He called trailing behind you, a crestfallen expression on his face. You stopped at the tree lining, biting your lip as you turned to face him. “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I-“ He sighed looking down, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a low curse. 

“Who is she?” You asked clenching your jaw. He furrowed his brows looking up at you.

“What?” He asked, his hands settling on his hips.

“VM, the girl you keep drawing hearts around. Who is she?” You were blunt, something he loved so much. Always telling it like it is, never leaving him to guess your feelings. A small smile spread on his face, which only made you more mad. “Seriously, you think this is funny?” You hissed, taking a step towards him. Arthur only had one choice, to tell you the truth. 

“Violet.” He said softly, reaching for you. “Violet Morgan.” You let him wrap his hand around your forearm, pulling you close to his chest.

“Who is Violet Morgan?” You asked, swallowing thickly. He sighed, looking off to the side, wetting his lips.

“She’s uh-“ He shook his head, a nervous smile on his lips. “She’s not exactly real, not yet at least.” He said. 

You shook your head, brows knitted together, “Not real? The hell you mean, not real?”

“I-“ He rubbed the back of his neck looking down, “It’s uh- shit.”

“Spit it out Morgan.” You huff throwing your arms up. 

“I thought of a name,” He explained, “A name for a girl if we- if we have one some day.” He said with a shrug, his cheeks flushed, almost as though he had been in a scuffle. 

Oh.

If we have one some day. 

“Oh Arthur.” You said softly, a smile spreading across your face. Feeling suddenly very foolish for doubting your man. “That's so sweet.” You took a step forward, tilting his face up to look at you. 

“Yeah?” He asked, looping his fingers in his gun belt. 

“Yeah.” You repeated, nodding. “Jesus you had me scared you were gonna tell me you found someone else.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Never. There ain’t no one else in this goddamn world that could replace you.” He said his hand reached up to cup your face. “You’re uh- you’re it for me darlin.” His bright blue eyes peered into yours, love and affection pouring out in his expression. 

“When we have our girl.” You said brushing away a stray strand of honey brown hair, “Violet will be a perfect name.” He grinned, wrapping a hand around your waist.

“Guess it’s settled then.” He said as he leaned down to press his lips against yours.

[soupandsimple]

THIS MADE ME THINK OF DAD!REMUS 🥹 !!

* baby daughter stepping all over Remus’s head/face while he’s still sleeping in the morning

…………….

7:13 A.M is the time that reads on your night stand clock; it’s not an alarm that has woken you up, but the cry of your baby girl, Beatrice, in the nursery across the hall. Surprisingly her cry doesn’t wake Remus which is just as well because he deserves some extra rest on this Saturday morning.

Carefully and slowly you get out of bed and go across the hallway to see Bee (as you and Rem called her at times) and change her dirty diaper real quick before taking her back over to your bedroom so the three of you could all cozy up a bit together before breakfast time.

After bringing her in, you set her down at the center of the bed as you lounge down sideways beside her with the support of your elbow. You watch as she crawls to your pillow, climbs atop of it and with the aid of the headboard, pulls herself up to stand; it was actually something she had only recently discovered she could do.

“Oh my goodness, such a big girl now aren’t you,” you coo quietly. Bee babbles something in return then continues on with her hold on the headboard and unsteadily begins walking on the mushy pillows towards Remus’s sleeping form.

“Oop, don’t wake daddy. He’s sleeping..come back to mama,” you tell Bee, who obviously doesn’t quite understand your words and goes ahead and steps up on Remus‘s head to continue her path along the headboard.

“Beatrice,” you giggle quietly.

Bee momentarily turns back at you at the call of her name but then returns to her wobbly steps over the hump that was Remus’s head.

You would have pulled her off but see Remus sleepily smiling at the rough wake up call he was being given; also it was too cute to disrupt.

“You’re just like your mother,” his sleep laced voice hums as he turns to pull Beatrice down into a cuddle at his side. Luckily Bee is used to being picked up and moved around at random at this age still so she doesn’t even protest the pull down and just happily accepts it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you say then, sitting up and crossing your arms.

“You know what it means love,” he says groggily, shutting his eyes again while Bee comfortably lays where he put her at his side, curiously eyeing the sole top button on his sleep shirt which she reaches to touch lightly with her tiny fingertips.

And yes, you did know what he meant by ‘you’re just like your mother’. He was referring to the way you’d smother his face with kisses some mornings while he still slept which in turn eventually woke him up.

“Okay, but you know you love it. Well maybe the kisses a little more than being stepped on but,” you laugh, tickling Bee’s little onesie covered foot. She kicks her foot with a giggle and smushes her face into Remus’s chest.

Remus peers down at his giggly baby and shakes his head, “No. I love them both,” he answers. “Best alarm clocks I’ve ever had,” he concludes with heart eyes to you then down at Bee. <3

[eyesxxyou]

Since drabble requests are open I'm begging for the dilf Hobie breeding and imperganting kink with ftm reader

Like he sees you with his daughter and starts tweaking immediately need to put baby in reader 🙏🏼🙏🏼

-🤡

❝ babyfever ❞ hobie brown x ftm!reader

❝ content ❞ breeding kink, talk of getting pregnant, DILF!Hobie, Hobie has a daughter already, graphic descriptions of sex, creampies, cockwarming

You had just picked her up. Beatrice, Bee, Hobie's daughter. You had picked her up and carried her on your hip, twirling her around until she giggled and you grew dizzy. You had just kissed her nose, her cheeks, her forehead with gentle pecks that anyone would offer to the girl upon knowing her. She was sweet, a controlled chaos, looked just as beautiful as her father. She was easy to love, just like her father as well.

All you had done was tuck her into bed and read her a bedtime story while Hobie sat watching the way she fell asleep with her head in your lap. You didn't even mind that she drooled on you.

All you had done was be a good boyfriend and accepted Hobie’s daughter wholeheartedly for him to get this way. All over you, muttering about how great of a dad you’d be between licks into your mouth.

“‘m gonna make ya a daddy.” His hands grip your hips as you lay on your back and take his cock into your soaked pussy. Your back arched off the bed, hands grasping his wrists as he sinks into you balls deep.

He’s already cum twice, his seed leaking from your abused, puffy cunt that takes as much of him as it can hold. You’re filled to the brink with cum and cock, determined to fill you up as much as possible and make you swollen with child.

Hobie pounded into you, each pull of his hips leaving sticky strings of cum connecting your hips to his. His eyes were alight with concentration, his gaze greedily feasting upon the way your pussy sucked in his length with open acceptance, like you wanted him to cum again, wanted him to give you a baby, wanted him to impregnate you.

“So good wit’ Bee-Bee. Yer gonna be such a good daddy when I put this baby in ya. Say I’. ‘’m gonna be such a good dad’.” He quickened his pace, the sharp clap of skin meeting skin filling the room. You wet his cock to the hilt, cum dripping down his balls and down the round of your ass.

You were so fucked out, trembling to your toes with each brutal thrust to your swollen pussy. Your t-dick was hard, aching, desperate. Hobie pinched it, rolled it between his fingers. He spat on it and slapped it a little. “I said, say. It.” He punctuated each word with a eye-fluttering stroke of his hips, angled and sharp.

“‘m gonna- fuck~ God, Hobie. ‘m gonna be such a good dad.” You choked, legs bowing. Your hole body rattled with each thrust, each stroke of his hips stealing any sort of cohesion or rational thought from your mind.

Maybe you did want to get pregnant. If it were to be by anyone, you’d want it to be Hobie, no one else. You want to have a family to him, want to take care of his daughter, want to give him another child because you know how much he loves being a dad, even if the position was thrusted upon him so unexpectedly.

He was making you lose any form of reserve against such an idea. God, you’d give him as many children as he wanted if he kept fucking you like this.

“Gimme a baby, Hobes.” You plead with him, even if it’s just in the moment. There are things in place to keep you from getting pregnant. “Fuck- I wan’ it so bad.” You spread your legs wider before him, let him pound out your pussy so thoroughly you were throbbing

Hobie leaned over you and pressed his lips to yours in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. His hips slowed into softer, slower ruts of his hips into you.

“We’ll be such a happy lil’ family.” You coo into his open mouth only for him to groan with pleasant satisfaction at the idea. “I’ll be there for Bee. You’ll be such a good father to our baby like you are to Bee.” Hobie simply purred. His hands grasp at your hips to keep you still so you can take his third load.

You rolled your hips into his and whispered on his sweet lips about how beautiful your family with him would be. You, Him, Bee, and your second child. You claimed Bee as your own, she was yours, your child your baby and Hobie was eating up every second of it.

“Shit- dove, ‘m gonna cum.” His tongue was against yours, lapping, his hips shuddering into you. “Gonna give ya wha’cha wan’.” Hobie filled you up, a warm flooding of your body in white to the brim as he slowly pulled out to make more room for his last load of cum.

Your body accepted it happily, accepted him. Hobie didn't pull out, wanted to keep the cum inside just a little longer. He laid on top of you, held you close, his lips peppering kisses to the side of your neck. “How long do ya think ‘til it takes?”

You giggled softly. “Whenever I stop my birth control.”

Hobie looked up at you, his eyes all big and pleading, begging for you to “at least consider it”. He so badly wanted another child and wanted one with no one other than you. He’d butter you up with kisses and sweet words into the shell of your ear. You know what he wants, knows he loves you and wants nothing more than to fully complete your family by having another child.

But you think Bee is perfectly enough. You don't need a child “of your own”, as far as you care, she is your child. But you understand, Hobie’s just having baby fever. He loves being a father.

You kissed him softly, fingers tracing the angle of his jaw. “I’ll consider it.”

“Jus’ consider it.”

taglist: @hobie-y-ellie @hoe-bie

[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 2

Summary: Lloyd has some rules, and very little control.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Au Pair!Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual tension, video sex, a bit of voyeurism, implied male masturbation, teasing, daddy issues, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.9K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Shh, sweetheart. We’ve got to tell your daddy you need a proper middle name. Unless you’re European. Can you tell me if you are?” Lyla giggles a bit, reaching a hand up to touch your face. “Oh, I knew it. You want one. So what do you think your dad will like an A name? A B name?” The baby squeals so loud you hear Lloyd’s loud banging stop. Pausing while he focuses on Lyla’s voice.

“Was that a good sound or bad? I haven’t learned her noises. Cries. Voice. I don’t know what the correct terminology would be, but I haven’t learned it.”

“It isn’t bad. She’s communicating with me.”

“What?” His voice is laced in so much confusion that you find it so endearing. He was obnoxious, but trying. His rules for you as the au pair were a bit too much, but the pay was ridiculously good. And Chase didn’t live too far. He could sneak in.

You walk into Lyla’s room, wanting to laugh as Lloyd curses at the crib he was trying to put together. Looking down at the sweet baby in your arms as her daddy throws something else, “He’s pitching a fit.”

“No the — no, I’m not. This stupid thing is impossible with these dumbass directions. And she can’t sleep in her bedroom. I don’t want her to sleep in the portable crib anymore. I want her to have a space of her own. I highly doubt her whore of a mother gave her that. And yes, she is. Any woman that drops off a baby with their father who knows fuck all about kids is a whore and shitty human being. And Lyla, I apologize. I’m working on not talking like an asshole around her.”

Working on it, and failing miserably, it is still cute he thinks he’s going to change that quickly. Even just acknowledging that type of language isn’t suitable for her is a start. “And here I am in over my head, putting together an overly pink bedroom for her because she didn’t ask to be born, and I am extra.”

“Yeah, designer baby clothes aren't what a lot of parents do.”

“How did your father dress you?”

Chuckling, you put Lyla in her carrier. You place her slightly behind, but still beside Lloyd, and plant yourself beside him, grabbing up the directions. “Roman didn’t dress me. My mother did. Roman might have paid for things, but my mom was the one that was there always. So you’re doing a lot better than him.”

“Is this a moment you tell me you have daddy issues?”

Snorting, you look up at him, shaking your head no, “This is me telling you my experience with my father. Having a dad in a girl’s life makes a difference. I call him Roman. What do you want Lyla to call you?”

“Dad.”

“You know you didn’t hesitate?” Taking a deep inhale, Lloyd grabs the directions from you, busying himself in reading them. You don’t think he actually is looking at them, he’s absorbing what you said, while also refusing to look at you and show you his vulnerability. “Speaking of which, why doesn’t she have a middle name?”

“Why does she need one?”

“What’s your middle name?” You counter quickly, and he leans back. His eyes gazing over your body. Wondering where the hell you came from because clearly you didn’t know who he was.

He narrows his eyes, looking at you and then his daughter. Lyla can’t help but to giggle at him. Tiny little thing. You wonder if she was malnourished or just a bit miniature anyways. “Bennett,” he waits to see if you react before continuing. “Why does she need one?”

“Beatrice,” he looks down at the baby who chuckles again. ��She likes you, and she told me she wanted a name that started with B, and now I find out your name starts with a B. I think you and your daddy are a perfect pair, don’t you Miss Lyla Bee?” Despite whatever nonsense her mother had her living in, she's a happy baby. One that is very much aware of her daddy. Her bright green eyes focus on him when he looks at her.

“Lyla Bee. I like that. She’s like my little bumble bee. Should we get rid of all the pink and change it to bumble bees? Did I make a mistake with the pink? What if she doesn’t like pink?”

You shrug your shoulders. It really didn’t matter what she liked. She seemed to like her dad, and he adored her, and wanted to do right by her. “I think we should keep the pink. Here, you tend to the baby, and let me have a go at this crib. You’re messing everything up. And she really likes you.”

“But you’re the au pair?” He says, holding onto Lyla. He gives his finger to her, and her little baby fingers wrap around him tightly.

“And you’re mucking up this crib. Can I? I helped my mom with my little brother’s crib. It was a long time ago. But,” you go silent, grabbing the directions back from Lloyd. Using the same tactic he did earlier. Focus on this and ignore the questions, “No, Roman is not his father.”

“Didn’t ask,” he didn’t have to. Everyone else did. Your brother was an angel, and his father was…well, he was there. He made sure that Vincent was taken care of. Might not have offered you any attention, but you weren’t his responsibility.

“You thought it, so that was enough. I like the simple, but extravagant theme you went for in her bedroom though. Even if the Dior bunny is a bit much.”

“She likes it,” he chuckles, looking down at his daughter. “My partner told me buying things is my love language.”

“You must really love your daughter then,” he whispers out ‘yeah’, not realizing how much it hurts you that he loves someone he just met. And your father knew about you during the pregnancy. You didn’t have daddy issues. You had men issues. Men couldn’t be trusted. There were to be looked at, and put to good use.

You flop down on the seat next to Lloyd on the couch with a cup of microwave macaroni and cheese. You take a bite of the easy dinner, glancing at the television while Lloyd scowls. His eyes drift over your body, slightly confused. Watching as your jaw pulses with your chews.

“I feel you watching me,” he didn’t hide his facial expressions. You could read exactly what he was thinking by the quirks of his brows and mouth alone. Not that you had been paying attention to his mouth.

“What is that dreadful shit you’re eating?”

You turn your body towards him, and slowly take another bite. Noting how his eyes go to your mouth as he watches you chew in disgust. “It only took three and a half minutes to make.”

“It smells like it did. But what are you eating?” This man has been rich his entire life. Didn’t even know the joys of microwaveable food.

“It’s mac and cheese,” you giggle. Scooping out a bit, and you hold the spoon out for him. “Try it.”

“I’d rather not,” his face no longer disgusted, but more indifferent.

“Because you’re scared to eat after me?” He rolls his eyes as you take another bite of the sinfully delicious and preservative filled dinner. It probably had too much sodium in it, and the way you dressed it up surely didn’t help. But it was simple and comforting all the same. Lloyd could learn to loosen up a bit. Bring himself down to a ‘normal lifestyle’.

“While sharing a spoon with you does repulse me. The idea of eating something that came out of a microwave is just as disgusting. Did your father not feed you well?”

“Roman,” you emphasize his name. One day Lloyd would understand that Roman was nothing but a sperm donor and a bank. “He didn’t feed me. My mother did. And she wanted me to be normal.”

“Eating proper food is normal,” you liked him. Legitimately liked him. He also didn’t get offended when you popped back. He probably always had someone around him ready to take orders. That is until you.

“I mean have the American dream.”

“Yes, the American dream is definitely to eat food that is cheaper than toilet paper.”

Slowly blinking, you watch him watch you. Something that should be uncomfortable with the lack of a baby as a buffer wasn’t. You wanted to bring him back down to earth. He was a bit pompous and a lot of an asshole, and you still liked it. “I’m going to make you a cup.”

“Please don’t,” his voice is flat as he watches you jump up from the couch.

“And you’re going to at least try it.”

“I’d rather not,” he is too stiff and robotic with his movements. You want to reach over to his shoulders and make him slouch. Maybe if you made him laugh or shook him? Made him dance with you? You were going to make him break.

“And after you’ve tried it, if you still think the same we can drop it. But what I put into my body is my business. What you put into yours is your business. We won’t judge one another. You can oblige me by cooking me and Lyla Bee a delicious dinner one evening. I’ll humor you, and try your rich people food, mkay?”

This isn’t at all what Lloyd had bargained for. A girl who was given no boundaries. But you had helped him get Lyla’s bedroom in order. She was even sleeping soundly in her crib while a monitor sat on the coffee table. You hadn’t complained when he would start throwing things in a fit. And somehow managed to calm him down.

“Fine, but I don’t cook. I have a private chef,” he responds, following you into the kitchen. Eyeing you as you go into the pantry. “Where did this come from?”

Sighing, you open up the fridge producing a container of shredded cheese, and walk to the counter. “I had it delivered while you were taking a nap with Lyla. It’s really cute to see you sleeping with a baby on your chest. You know, I could watch her. Nap time leaves me nothing to do but use Roman’s card to have some food delivered here.”

“I read you should try to bond with your baby whenever you can. I missed time with her. Wait — you were watching me sleep?” It was quick, but you saw his smirk. Did he like you watching him sleep? That almost feels like an invasion of privacy. Or did he like that you looked at him? Called him cute? What was this?

“It got quiet in the apartment. So I went to find you,” and you might have wandered around the giant apartment as well. His bedroom was just the first place you looked. And you might have enjoyed what you saw, and you might have created a quick but stupid scenario of your husband doing that. Not Lloyd in particular, just a blank faced man who may or may not have had a mustache.

“You’re a snoop?”

“I’m curious by nature,” it wasn’t a lie. You weren’t looking for something to hurt or burn Lloyd with. Just wanted to give a gander through everything. “So what exactly are my hours? When you’re here do you want me to be here? Can I request time off? Have a social life? You won’t exactly let me have people here, and I do respect that. This is yours and Lyla’s space, and I know with your line of work discretion is advised. But I can’t have my only friends be you and a baby. I do have a boyfriend, and I fear I won’t if I don’t see him.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Lloyd smirks. That smile dies quickly as he watches you mix up the cheese concoction to the now completed noodles, and slide the disposable container to him. “You’re not going to put this in a real bowl?”

After washing your hands, you splash a bit of water on him. Giggling when his face turns into a snarl, “Loosen up. This is microwave food. And I need to see other people. Do you not like Chase?”

“His name is dumb,” rolling your eyes, you look away from him. Listening for any signs of movement on the monitor while Lloyd takes a tentative bite of the mac and cheese. Curling up his nose until the spoon touches his tongue, and you see his eyebrows go up. “But this isn’t that bad.”

“What’s wrong with his name?”

“Chase is a verb,” he answers matter of fact. He was going to be one of those. Complete alpha male, and you were bringing someone into his home that was hurting his ego. You weren’t even sure if Chase was the one, but he is definitely the one right now. You didn’t meet your forever person in college, and you’re not even sure you believe in that. You just find someone you tolerate and make sure the sex is good. Plus Chase was amazing to look at and a lot of fun.

“And I don’t want boys in and out of Lyla Bee’s life,” he liked the way the nickname you gave her sounded. It suited his sweet little bee. She had proven to be the sweetest and most cuddly baby he’d ever met. But he had only met one.

“I can respect that as long as you respect the fact that he is my boyfriend,” Lloyd didn’t really want to or have to for that matter. But you were new to this life and to him. You’d eventually see that Lloyd commanded all. Not that he would torture you like he did some. As long as you followed the rules.

“Fine.”

“Is it okay that I came out here tonight? Would you rather me stay holed up in my room? Alone?”

“No,” he answers, walking to the garbage can to dispose of the trash. He heads towards the sink, washing his spoon quickly before leaving you to go back into the living room. Leaving you with more questions than answers.

“No, as in it’s okay that I came out?”

“Were you supposed to stay in your bedroom and starve?” Well that was a simple question to answer. But it was your first night here, and you didn’t know what boundaries he had that you shouldn’t cross. “I don’t expect us to be best friends. But we live together. You’re the woman that takes care of my daughter, and I’m the man.”

Saying it in such simple terms made this arrangement sound strange. You didn’t want to be an au pair, and didn’t see yourself living with a man and his daughter. His baby daughter, who couldn’t even crawl. Currently you think about this weird living situation, and how lines could easily become blurred here.

“What are my duties?”

“You’ve already told me that you have daddy issues, and now you’re asking me what your duties are? Please. I’m going to bed. This line of question is — it’s not good for me. Goodnight, Dolly. Stay up as long as you like, but in the morning I’ll be gone. Tomorrow will be all your responsibility. I’ve added a monitor to your room. If it’s before five, I can tend to her.”

He walks off leaving you with even more questions. Why did he suddenly have that outburst? What had made him seem so sensitive? And you didn’t have daddy issues. You were just fine without your father. You didn’t seek the approval of a man, or needed one to keep you in line. Sure you might watch Lloyd with Lyla and wish that Roman had even an ounce of care that Lloyd had shown in the first few hours that you met him.

Lyla is lucky to have a man that stepped up to be her father. He didn’t have to. From what you understand he didn’t even know of her existence, but it didn’t matter. She was his priority.

Exhaling deeply, you turn off all the lights, and walk to your bedroom. You’d promised Chase you would call once you were settled in bed. You’d leave the awkward talk with Lloyd for tomorrow, or whenever he decided to show up. Giving a look towards his door instead of Lyla’s telling yourself you would crack him. It was one day, and things wouldn’t always be this awkward.

Sitting on your overly plush bed, you call up Chase, and he answers on the first ring, “FaceTime me. I want to see you.”

Flipping it over to a video call, you see his handsome face, and smile like a schoolgirl. “Nice room. Have you figured out how I’m going to be able to sneak in there?”

“Chase!”

“Oh, come on. It will be fun. I’ve never fucked an au pair before,” you roll your eyes. Letting the camera drift a bit before pulling apart your pajama top. Giving him a quick flash of your chest. “Oh, princess, I like that. Is that why you called me? We’ve never had phone sex before.”

”Being around a baby and a man child today made me miss you,” you give him a little pout. The performance that he loved so much, and you just enjoyed to see him get feral. “All I could think about was falling asleep because you wore me out.”

”I could fucking wear you out.”

“Oh, yeah? What would you do to me?”

“I know how you like an audience. Maybe not actually seeing you, but you love when people can hear you. You think daddy Lloyd would have a problem hearing you whisper my name?” Daddy Lloyd? Now why did that give you a bit of a pause. A rumble in your belly that you hadn’t expected. Ignoring a few of Chase’s words as your mind ponders, going in so many different directions of why those words strung together made you…feel.

“He’d hear you gasping for breath as I stab into that sweet little cunt. Or maybe he’d walk in to see you riding me. Why don’t you remind me how you ride me,” you hum at him, and he pans the camera down to his lap, and he’s gripping the base of his cock so tightly. Beads of precum gather at the tip. Normally he’d have his cock already covered in a condom. But seeing him in all his glory is doing something to you.

“Grab a pillow, and pretend it’s me. I’ll stroke my cock to whatever pace you set.”

—

Lloyd flops to the other side. Grabbing his pillow he covers his head thinking about anything besides what he is hearing. He shouldn’t have added the camera to your room. But to be fair the cameras were in every fucking room in the apartment. How was he going to protect you and his daughter if he didn’t know what was going on?

Maybe the ones in the bathroom were too much, but they weren’t pointing at the toilet. My god, he wanted to look. Wanted to turn the volume down. Wanted to get that stupid verb out of his mind. But the verb wouldn’t stop talking. It isn’t even fair that you are whispering. It is normal for people to masturbate. You’d just sound better without his pathetic attempts at phone sex.

“Ugh,” Lloyd growls. He could exit out of the app if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Is it because he didn’t want to? Is it because he liked the sound of your sweet noises? Or is it because it had been too long since he had felt something besides his hand? He isn’t sure. The only thing he was truly positive about was you were killing him.

All fucking day. Acting all innocent and oblivious. He’d been away from women for too long, and you were…you knew what you were doing. Your cute little domestic moments with his daughter. You made him army ration mac and cheese that were at least edible. You helped him. You didn’t even ask, you just sat down and helped him. And you were sweet with his baby.

His emotions are conflicting with his need to…

He had to stop this utter nonsense. He isn’t a rational man, but he did what he had to do with the cameras. And now it’s backfiring on him because you can’t fucking whisper a moan. Why did your heavy breathing sound so sexy?

Why did he want to look? Were you topless? One peek wouldn’t hurt. But it would be crossing a line. How would he feel if someone was doing this with his daughter? He wouldn’t like it. You were Roman’s daughter. Even though he didn’t tell him you had the prettiest…

Nope. He is spiraling down into a sinful rabbit hole. His cock is too hard and angry and it is killing him to not look. He even fears grabbing his phone to turn down the volume will make him want to watch you. See you do whatever the fuck you are doing. Judging by the sounds and whatever The Verb was saying, you are grinding on a fucking pillow.

One look won’t hurt.

Nope, he can’t do this. He throws the blanket off him. Sitting up in the bed, he rests his elbows on his knees. Head in his hands as he tries to make his cock calm down. He was lonely. But it feels even wrong to fuck his fist because your voice is what got him hard.

This arrangement was needed, but this is difficult. Feeling a bit impossibly hard right now. Everything was hard. Including his fucking cock. It was quaking with the need to be dealt with.

Shaking his head, he stands up. His cock pressing uncomfortably against his boxers. A walk through the apartment is much needed. Get away from the noise. Maybe eat another somewhat edible peasant mac and cheese.

This was a bad idea. He sees the soft glow underneath your bedroom door, and has a deep desire to sling it open and get on to you for being…

No. He can’t do that. You’re not ‘breaking’ any of his rules. You’re just mutually masturbating with your boyfriend, and you’re taking too long. Not that he would make sure to fuck you quickly. He just doesn’t want someone else taking their time with you.

What the fuck is he even talking about? He can’t fuck you. You were Lyla’s. He just paid you. He could pay you in other ways.

No!

You fucking asked him what your duties were. He’d love for your duties to be getting to your knees and letting him see how pretty your mouth looked with his cock in it. His tip nudging the back of your throat while tears fill your eyes, and your lungs cry for air.

What the actual fuck? Why was he like this? Why was this a struggle? And why is he going the opposite way of the kitchen? Landing directly in front of your door? Listening to your sounds live. Panting. Whimpering. Not saying The Verb’s name. He’d have you screaming his name. He would have you begging for him to let you come. Have you edged all day because you wanted to tease him with silly little questions about your duties.

He’d have tears falling down your cheeks as he smirks down at you. Letting you know what a pathetic and needy little slut you were. Fuck you so hard your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, and you’re completely dumb. So dumb that you’re just spouting out random words until he’s left his seed inside your belly.

Walking to your bathroom to get a washcloth to clean you up before leaving you blissed out. Making you so needy that you beg for his attention. Start being a good girl so you get more time with is cock in — inside of you. Ready to crawl on your knees after Lyla was put to sleep, and telling him you’re his little sex doll. And he would make so much use of your body and holes. Fucking you every night. Special time just for you. Just so he can feel your tight…tight…tight walls milk him dry.

”Lloyd?” Your voice pants on the other side of the room. “Lloyd is that you?” Getting closer to the door. He tucks his cock back in his boxers. Not even realizing he had been rubbing one out to your sounds. Wiping his hands on the silk of his underwear when you sling the door open.

How did you become prettier? A sheen of sweat around your hairline, and yep…you’d been grinding on a fucking pillow. Your bed is a crumbled up mess and a pillow is right in the middle of the bed. “Is everything okay? Sorry, I was…I was telling Chase goodnight.”

The Verb. You had shorts on earlier. Now it’s this t-shirt that was barely covering your legs. Were you naked? Did you show him your pussy? Your chest continues to heave, and he hates The Verb. He despises him. He’s got to go. You can’t spend time with Lyla and him if The Verb was in the picture. “Lloyd, are you okay?”

“I’m hungry.”

”I’m confused,” what was his reason for being at your door, telling you that he was hungry.

”I like ramen. The gross kind. The kind that…”

”Like top ramen?” You ask him confused. Mouth still slightly open as you try to catch your breath and his eyebrow quirks up. Did you know he was listening to you and stroking himself?

“Yes. You made me your cheap noodles, would you like me to make you some of my cheap noodles?”

“It’s after midnight.”

“Fine, I’ll eat the noodles by myself,” spinning on his heels, he walks away from you into the kitchen. It isn’t long until he hears the soft pads of your feet following him. “I told you it was okay.”

“You — did you…I was almost asleep.”

“Yes, yes. I understand. You were almost asleep as you were telling your…boyfriend goodnight. That’s exactly what almost asleep sounds like,” that list bit of his sentence sounds a bit implying. Did he know?

“Did you hear our conversation?” Was it even a conversation? He couldn’t remember. He just heard you telling him you were going to come. Not The Verb, but Lloyd. You are a tease. He didn’t mean to get off on your voice. “How long were you out here?”

“Grab me a pot?” Oh you were obedient, bending over to get a pot, and standing up quickly. Not quick enough. No panties. He pretends to see nothing. You can sleep with no panties. That’s a good habit to get into because he can just slide into your bed, and start fucking you. When you get there of course. Consent is key. And he feels like a bastard for what he did tonight. But that movement you just did was on your own.

“Sorry.”

“For what?” He asks with a devilish grin.

“Nothing,” it wasn’t just nothing. But he wasn’t going to make you feel guilty for the need to show him your cunt still glistening. He’d have your legs drenched. “Do you do anything special with your ramen? Or do you make it as is?”

“There’s some eggs and spring onions in the fridge. Does that answer your question?” He nods his head towards the fridge, trying to figure out what else he could make you do to get a little peek. He’d play oblivious. Let you decide what you are comfortable with. “Mind getting me some bowls from the top shelf?”

Standing on your tippy toes you dance around a moment. The bottom of your ass cheeks make a little appearance, and he steps behind you to reach the bowls himself. Taking too long to cage your body with your own. And when you gasp, pressing your ass into his crotch he bounces back immediately. Dropping the bowls into the floor and they shatter into thousands of pieces.

“Shit,” Lloyd whispers under his breath. And without asking, places his hands on your sides to lift you up onto the counter. “Stay there while I clean this up. I don’t need you stepping on glass.”

He doesn’t notice the odd glances that you give him as he picks up the larger pieces and starts sweeping up the rest. “My mom always uses wet a paper towel to get the tiny pieces up.”

“That’s smart,” he follows your instructions. And stands up straight. You have already gotten more comfortable, and your legs are not so tightly pressed together. He has to bite his tongue in order to not look. But as high up as that shirt is sitting on your thighs, he knows. And you are aware that he knows.

“Not that Lyla can even crawl right now, but the idea of there being these tiny pieces of glass for you to step on when holding her,” his words stop, and he stands in front of you. How did you not realize he was shirtless? Why is his chest so close to your face as he reaches above your head for more bowls? Why does he smell like a wet dream? Push the thoughts away.

“I don’t want you hurting yourself and dropping her in an accident.”

“I won’t drop her.”

“Knock on the cabinets immediately! That is bad luck,” you do as he says, not pegging him as a superstitious man at all. “I had some chance to think about it. I think on Sundays you should have the day off completely unless I’m out of town. Saturdays, is it fair to ask for you to work half a day? Just until around noon?”

“I think that’s fair.”

“And maybe we should not talk about The Verb?”

“The Verb?” What was he even talking about? You notice his eyes flick momentarily to your lap, and you realize how comfortable you had gotten on this counter. Your legs are too far apart. He had to have seen something. Was he disappointed? You didn’t want to disappoint him. You had just started to get to know him. You wanted to prove to him and yourself that you could care for a baby.

“That Chase boy.”

“My boyfriend?” You giggle. Why did he have such an issue with Chase?

“Why is he even your boyfriend?”

“He’s better than a dildo. I mean,” you feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, and have to look at the floor. Missing how big Lloyd’s smile spreads across his smug face. Or the way he is stalking towards you like he’s ready to pounce on his prey. “We’ve been together for awhile, but it’s not that serious.”

“Sweetheart, don’t settle for better than a dildo,” he stands right in front of you. Both hands on your knees as he goes to push your legs apart. Inserting himself in between your thighs. The weird feeling in your tummy returns, and you hate having no panties on as slick floods to your core. Throat dry as his finger touches your chin and lifts your face up to look at him. “And when I’m speaking to you, I expect you to look me in the eyes, do you understand?”

You nod your head slowly, but he clicks his tongue, “And I expect you to verbally answer in my home. Little head gestures are easily misinterpreted, okay?”

“Okay,” he raises an eyebrow, wanting you to finish your sentence, but words are impossible, and your brain is mush. Everything is delayed as you feel the heat between you and Lloyd, “I understand.”

“If you need something better than a dildo and more than The Verb just use your words,” what the fuck does that even mean? He steps away from you much quicker than he inserted himself. The air in the room is heavy and stifling, and you wonder if you even knew how to breathe without reminding yourself to inhale and exhale.

“Do you like creamy ramen or brothy?” This bastard is really changing the subject. You can’t even think with the two heartbeats you feel. One inside your chest, while the other is between your thighs and throbbing. Why is your heart beating so fast? Why is your body betraying you?

“I don’t think I’ve had creamy.”

“You want to get me the heavy whipping cream?” He gives you a cheeky smile when you jump off the counter and head towards the fridge.

“Why are you asking me to do all these things?”

“Because you listen so well,” you pause before reaching for the heavy whipping cream, and turn to look at him.

“What is this?” He’s playing a sick game. He had to be. He saw this ‘vulnerable little girl’ that he had to save. You didn’t need saving, you were fine all on your own.

“You’re very well behaved. Your mother did a good job. Until just now you didn’t even question it. Just did as I asked,” what is he getting at? He is talking in riddles, or backwards, or you are just reading too much into whatever this exchange is. Keeping your mouth closed for the rest of the evening.

Keeping your eyes off him as you squirm around uncomfortably in your seat. Is this uncomfortable because of him? Or are you weirded out because you are feeling things because of him. If you look up, you’d see him smiling as he watches the weird inner turmoil going on in your head.

Finishing before you, he stands up to put his bowl in the dishwasher. Walking past you towards his bedroom, he stops. “And Dolly?”

“Yes?” You ask, turning around in your chair.

“When you leave your room make sure you have on panties,” oh. My. God. He knew. He saw. He didn’t say anything until now. “Because next time I won’t force myself to stop my need to lean you over the counter and spank your ass.”

“Okay,” you didn’t know how to respond to that, and you couldn’t believe how your body was internalizing his words. Heat. Fire. Desire. Embarrassment. Lust. How you have immediate visions of Lloyd doing just that, and spreading your cheeks to see if he made you wet. He did. Uncomfortably so.

“Good girl, I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he needs a cold shower. He needs away from you because his cock has been at full mast since you questioned why he was asking you to gather things for him. You could try to deny it, but he turned you on as much as you turned him on.

And yet here is your employer, and you are just the sweet au pair with daddy issues. No matter what you say. And he supposes he’s the sick bastard that didn’t mind teasing you. Giving you something to think about. Options? Something for the spank bank? He hopes you go to bed wet and frustrated. Wake up to needing to fuck your own fingers as you think about the close proximity he had to you.

He hopes that you are dripping with need for his cock, and his care and protection. And he hopes that a cold shower is enough to get visions of you yipping with every smack to your ass. That you would be the perfect and obedient girl for him. Woman. Girl sounded gross in this context. Thank you, Roman for making sure your daughter had daddy issues. But fuck him for not loving his daughter the way you deserved.

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[clovermunson]

king hargrove — b. hargrove

summary: billy never saw himself as a dad, but he’d never trade his two little girls for anything— even when they ask him to dress up like a princess and have a tea party with them.

warnings: tooth-rooting fluff. like eating two bags of cotton candy and chasing it with a 72 oz. big gulp soda at the state fair. brief mentions of billy’s upbringing (not detailed). bee’s full name is beatrice but she’s called bee. oh and a mention of mechanic!billy. no use of “y/n”. first fic i’ve written and actually finished in…months? i think?? that’s about it really.

pairings: billy hargrove x fem/mom!reader

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: i told y’all motherfuckers i was gonna give billy something happy, and here it is!! it’s the most i’ve written in about two weeks and y’all can thank this lovely goon: @bookshelf-dust for that. anyway, as always likes and reblogs (especially reblogs) are greatly appreciated, i just ask that you DO NOT copy and repost my writing and claim it as your own!! — xo, morgan🖤

Billy Hargrove was many things. A bad influence, a womanizer, some might even say an antagonizer, of sorts. And while he’d agree to being all of those things before he met you, if someone would’ve told him that he’d become the father to a little girl in the spring of 1989, and then again in the summer of 1991, he would’ve told them they were crazy.

But now as he sat at the ridiculously small white dining table set, on the floor with his legs outstretched rather than in one of the dainty chairs that he was sure would crumble under his weight, he was certain that he wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

“Daddy, you gotta wear it.” Bee, your youngest daughter, had shoved a pink feather boa at him, making him jump back.

“Pleeeease? And this?” Juno, your eldest daughter had asked, holding a tiny plastic tiara out to him, “pretty please?”

“Okay okay.” Billy held his hands up, finally accepting defeat before letting Juno place the tiara on his head as he took the boa, wrapping the feathered accessory around his neck, then smiling for his girls.

Lord, if the guys at the mechanic shop knew about this, they’d never stop giving him hell over it.

“You look pretty.” Juno giggled at him as she pretended to pour two cups of tea.

“Pretty, huh?” Billy chuckled, “I don’t think the pink goes with my shirt.” He tugged at the material of his dark red shirt, showing how it contrasted.

“Oh well.” Bee shrugged, “gotta wear it.”

“Bossy.” Billy couldn’t help but laugh at the miniature version of himself, but if anyone asked where Bee got it from, he’d say it was from you.

“Get it from my daddy.” Bee didn’t miss a beat with her response, further showing just how much she was like her dad. All Billy could do was smile to himself, knowing that she was right.

Before he knew it, Juno had offered him an empty teacup, and he’d be damned if he turned it down. The floral patterned cup was abnormally tiny in his hand, but he still brought it up to his lips, pretending to take a drink.

“Pinky up.” Juno was quick to correct him, wiggling her tiny pinky at him.

At first, Billy looked confused. Why did he need to have his pinky up?

He felt Bee’s little hand grab at his, trying her hardest to raise his pinky.

“You’ve gotta put your pinky up, daddy.” She tried to pry his pinky from the tiny cup handle, giggling as Billy fought back with her.

“Daddy!” She whined, pouting at him. It didn’t take much for Bee to get her way. All she had to do was get those big ocean blue eyes a little misty, and she’d convince anyone to get her whatever she wanted— mostly her dad and her uncle Steve.

“Alright, alright.” Billy raised his pinky, waving it at Bee, “better?”

Bee simply nodded, appeased with her dad’s actions as she sipped her fake-tea.

You’d been carrying a basket full of laundry when you’d heard the giggling coming from the girls’ room. Instead of going on your way to the laundry room, you’d stopped just out of sight, leaning against the wall beside the doorway to listen in. Though you had to admit, seeing Billy in a tiara was quite the spectacle.

“You’re the king of the castle!” Juno exclaimed, quickly jumping up from the wooden chair to twirl around, her yellow polka-dot skirt twisting around her, the sleeves of her white blouse flowing from the small breeze she’d created.

“Is that so?” Billy watched as Bee joined in with her sister, both of them twirling around the table, skipping and jumping over their scattered toys.

“Mhm.” Bee agreed, “you’re the king. The king makes the rules.”

“I dunno about that, kiddo.” Billy snorted, “I would say I’m pretty influential around here though.”

“Infuwentual?” Bee stopped in her tracks, a bewildered look on her face. She struggled with the word, but Billy had quickly realized his mistake by using a big word.

“Influential.” He gently corrected her, “it means that daddy’s got a lot to do and say with what happens around here.”

Bee nodded, seemingly understanding the meaning of the new word. “So you make all the rules?”

“Not necessarily, babygirl.” Billy shook his head, smiling. “I do get to help make them though.”

“That doesn’t sound fun.” Bee crossed her arms, expressing that she didn’t agree with that decision— or whoever made it. Clearly an attitude she’d picked up from her father.

You smiled to yourself at that. Of course you and Billy made the rules together, and it was a very delicate balance of give and take between the two of you. But if your little girl could have it her way, she’d be running the world in no longer than two weeks’ time.

“But that’s how the world works, Bee.” Billy shrugged, “what can you do?”

Bee sat for a moment, seemingly contemplating her choices. Finally she spoke, and her little voice carried so much certainty with it, that even you were sure you’d let her have whatever she demanded. “Become the queen.”

“You wanna become the queen, is that right?” Billy couldn’t believe what he was hearing, feigning shock.

Bee nodded proudly, her plastic tiara nearly falling from her head.

“Well, you’ve gotta be a princess for now.” Billy had made it fairly obvious that he could match his daughter’s sass, “you do such a good job at that already.” He adjusted her tiara, making sure it was straight again.

“‘Course I do.” Bee sounded almost offended, “I am the princess.” She annunciated the word, only to add emphasis.

“Yeah, the mean princess.” Juno stuck her tongue out at her younger sister, knowing that Bee would retaliate.

“How rude!” Bee tossed one of the little building blocks at Juno, pouting.

“Meanie.” Juno threw a block back at her, which Billy had caught with astonishingly quick reflexes, making both of his daughters’ eyes widen.

“Girls.” Billy’s voice was firm, yet gentle with them, “that’s enough.”

“Sorry…” both girls mumbled, afraid to even look at each other.

“Neither of you are in trouble.” Billy felt the need to clarify, as he always felt like the bad guy when he had to scold them, “you just can’t call each other names and be mean to each other.”

The girls nodded in unison, showing that they understood the ground rules.

Since Billy had become a father, he’d become more gentle and less abrasive. He’d never once yelled at either of your girls, choosing to raise them with the kind of gentleness and unconditional love that you’d find in a family movie— the kind of home that Billy wasn’t lucky enough to have growing up.

He’d be damned if he didn’t give his little girls the best life they could possibly have though. Juno was the surprise baby, and sure money got tight at times, but he always worked extra shifts and overtime to make sure she had everything she needed and wanted. Then when Bee came along, Billy had been promoted to assistant manager, which came with a nice paycheck every week that was more than enough to support your little family.

Instead of continuing on to the laundry room, you decided instead to turn on your heel, heading back to the living room with a bright, almost dopey smile on your face from witnessing possibly the sweetest thing you’d ever seen. You set the basket of laundry down on the couch, making your way to the kitchen where you began to prepare dinner.

After about twenty minutes, Billy had gotten himself out of the princess tea party by claiming that he had ‘kingly duties’ to attend to, and while the girls were upset over it, they allowed him to leave.

“Mmm,” Billy hummed as he approached you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, then he inhaled the aroma of the kitchen, “whatcha making?”

“Spaghetti.” You responded with a giggle, “or as Bee calls it, ‘pasghetti’.”

“She’ll get it eventually.” Billy chuckled, “she’s got her mama’s brains for sure.”

“And your attitude.” You laughed, scrunching your nose, “what a killer combo.”

“Tell me about it.” Billy grinned, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of your neck.

“William.” You scolded him, giggling as you shimmied out of his grasp, “not here.”

Before Billy could even put some space between the two of you, Juno and Bee had come barreling down the stairs, stopping just at the threshold between the kitchen and living room.

“Can we have ice cream for dinner?” They both asked, their puppy dog eyes on full display.

You looked at Billy, a brow arched as you continued to stir the pasta noodles.

“Don’t look at me.” Billy held his hands up, shaking his head, giving you that million-dollar smile of his, “I didn’t tell them they could”.

“But you’re the king!” Bee shouted, the anticipation was clear in her voice.

“And if the king says we can have ice cream for dinner…” Juno trailed off, looking up at her dad.

“I may be the king, but mama’s the queen. What she says goes around here.” Billy leaned over to press a kiss to your temple, knowing that the girls wouldn’t even try to argue with you over it. “Even I can’t get her to change her mind.”

Juno sulked, padding over to her chair at the table, seemingly having accepted defeat.

Bee took a big whiff of the air, then smiled. “Mama, is that pasghetti?”

“It is spaghetti”. You gently corrected, knowing she still wouldn’t say it right anyway. “Go sit at the table with your sister and I’ll make you a plate.”

“Okay.” She chirped, nearly sprinting to the dining table, taking the seat right next to Juno.

Billy watched as the girls chatted amongst themselves, their senseless babbling making his chest swell with pride and an almost overwhelming sense of joy. Everything he never knew he needed was right in front of him, and he wouldn’t trade it for the anything. He leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he felt that warm sense of comfort wash over him that he’d been waiting years for.

Seeing the opportunity to tease your husband, you took it without so much as a second thought, though you kept your focus on making dinner.

“You may be the king, but you make a pretty princess too.”

Billy’s eyes darted over to you, and he smirked to himself. He knew that arguing was pointless, because the queen was always right.

[apomaro-mellow]

Whatever Stevie Wants

A sequel to Every Baby Needs a Daddy that is really just a Corroded King love-fest. Mostly fluff! Will there be drama? Still contemplating that. Stay tuned!

Read on AO3

Steve thought about the night he met Eddie. Cold, hungry, feeling pathetic. But he happened to spark up a conversation with an alpha in a bar that he vaguely recognized. And now…well, now he wasn’t cold. He was sitting on a very nice rocking chair with the AC at the perfect temperature. He wasn’t hungry. The kitchen was always fully stocked with whatever he might want. It had been since before he moved in but ever since he started getting pregnancy cravings, his pack made certain just about every food under the sun was available.

And it was hard to feel pathetic and unlovable when there were four men practically worshipping him everyday. The love in their home increased tenfold when the pups arrived. Violet Adams, born of him and Jeff Adams, and Vanessa Munson born of him and Eddie.

Violet was napping in a crib nearby while Steve held Vanessa to his chest. Eddie was sitting across from them, strumming his acoustic idly, making naptime feel all the more warm and fuzzy. Steve adjusted his hold on Vanessa, helping her to latch on properly. Eddie was strumming softly just across from them but he could always tell when he got too distracted. His hands would get slack on the strings. Steve didn’t even need to look up to know his jaw was in the same position too. But he did anyway. He liked his alpha looking longing.

“When’s it my turn?”, Eddie teased.

Steve shook his head but tried to keep his body still from disturbing his pup too much. “I think you’ve gotten plenty of turns.”

The moment Steve’s chest started to fill out from pregnancy, it was like Eddie had gotten a new toy. He wasn’t the only one in the pack that went crazy for his tits but he was the biggest culprit. 

Vanessa drank her fill and her eyelids got heavy now that her stomach was full. Steve put her in the crib on the opposite end of her sister. Once she was settled, he readjusted his shirt, covering himself up. Eddie swallowed in a way that wasn’t subtle at all. 

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Their days were filled with domestic bliss most of the time. Steve had experienced a bit of the limelight here and there but since they realized the twins were on the way he went out less. Now though, he was feeling the edges of cabin fever. He and his mates were able to go out to eat more often since Eddie’s Uncle Wayne and Jeff’s mother Beatrice moved in to help with the twins.

There was something so special to Steve about having three generations living under one roof. He almost wished his parents could be a part of it. He’d even sent them photographs of his daughters through the mail. They hadn’t said a word since he and Eddie were officially married and his name was changed from Harrington to Munson and they dropped the case against him.

It seemed like they wanted no part in his life and Steve wasn’t going to force them into it.

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It was close to evening when Steve found Eddie in the basement, writing while lounging in the home studio the band sometimes worked on. He crawled right on top of him and scented his alpha, purring as he got comfortable.

“Daddy.”

“Hey, baby.”

“Daddy, ‘m hungry.”

Eddie set the notebook and pencil down and rubbed Steve’s back. “And what does my baby wanna eat?”

About half an hour later, Steve was being hand-fed lobster by Eddie in a restaurant so exclusive, it felt like you needed a password to get in. Steve had started out using his own fork and knife to eat, but he let out one moan of pleasure at the food and Eddie started serving him personally.

“Tastes good, baby?”

“Mmm, so good.”

The wait staff was the kind that didn’t constantly come around the table and the lighting was on the low, romantic side. Just the right kind of atmosphere that Steve didn’t feel self conscious about the sounds he let out. There had been more than once when Steve felt like he was in danger of losing Eddie and the other’s interest. When he started getting heavy with pregnancy, only to have them adore his growing body.

When he finally gave birth and saw his parts of him now sagged and stretched, only for their gazes to still be in awe. It got to the point that Eddie wanted to use some of the pics from his maternity shoot on their next album.

And he only got more brazen with his shows of affection as time went on. One hand kept feeding Steve, sometimes licking away crumbs left on the corners of his mouth. The other hand was, innocently (at least at the moment), rubbing circles on his stomach.

“You really spoil me”, Steve said after swallowing his last bite.

“Sweet thing, not even this feels like enough”, Eddie confessed. His hand dipped further under the table, further down Steve’s body.

Steve spread his legs, even putting one in Eddie’s lap so that his mate could touch him more. Taking the advantage, Eddie expertly opened up his pants and it took very little coaxing to have Steve grinding against his hand. Eddie’s attention was held by his love’s enraptured expression, but then it moved down to the two dark dots forming on his shirt. 

“Fuck”, Eddie whispered, mouth watering as he imagined taking a tit in his mouth right now, draining Steve through the fabric.

Instead, he pulled his hand out of his pants, heart breaking on the whine it elicited but staying strong. Eddie shushed him gently and kissed his cheek.

“Let’s get you somewhere a little more comfortable.”

That ended up being the backseat of a car, a familiar in-between when either of them got too riled up for being in public and yet couldn’t wait until they got home. Steve straddled his alpha’s lap and started to unbutton his shirt. His nipples glistened in the moonlight and Eddie reached out reverently. 

He buried his face in Steve’s chest, scenting his sweetness there and then gave one of his nipples a lick, lapping at it and taking his time. Like an aperitif before the main dish. Only when Steve grabbed the back of his head, pushing him in more did he wrap his lips around and start to suck in earnest. 

Steve started to grind again, just like in the restaurant. But instead of getting off on Eddie’s fingers, he used his husband’s thigh, pressing down, feeling slick gush out and make him slide even more. Eddie was getting off on him, on the sweet milk that he made for their pups.

“Daddy, Daddy please”, Steve begged, though he wasn’t sure what for.

One of Eddie’s hands snaked up his back, doing his part to keep himself latched onto the beautiful breast in his mouth. The other went to his ass, spurring him on to keep going as he got closer to his climax. Eddie groaned against his skin, it was impossible to get enough. Not wanting to ignore the other one, he pulled off, licking his way to the other side of Steve’s chest and took that nipple into his mouth.

Steve’s pleas turned to wordless moaning as he ground down and suddenly he was seeing stars. His whole body shook as the waves of pleasure rocked through him and for a moment, he didn’t know where he was.

Eddie licked his lips. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were in heat, sweetheart.”

The laugh Steve let out was shaky and breathless as he ran a hand through his hair. Every time felt like he was in heat. Every time one of them put their hands on him, Steve felt like a slave to desire. Was this what it was like to be in love? It must be.

“You take such good care of me, Daddy”, Steve said, arms coming around his shoulders.

“Course I do. You’re mine, Stevie. And I’m never letting you go.”

Part 2

[selfishpresley]

Masterlist!

Works In Progress: 21 (1 is a twilight fic)

Completed Works: 11 (and i'm proud of that, ok?)

All are on AO3, linked below!

updated as of: 10.26.24

Fem!Checo series — (Sergia 'Checo' Pérez)

Checo x Carola x Max [7 stories within]

Sergia "Checo" Pérez hates the media, loves her wife, and loves/hates her team.

In the darkness, hearts aglow — (Rosalía 'Manu' Marroquín - Rally Driver)

Charles Leclerc x woc!oc, Carlos Sainz x woc!oc

Her career started like this. Her first taste of the road started like that. If she had to choose a moment where her career began. It was under her father’s eye. ___________ Charles wasn't particularly religious. Not like his grandmother, but he could see the appeal when he saw the intense eyes of a young rally driver carving her name into motorsports history.

The Points That Matter — (Challengers!AU)

Checo Pérez x black!Reader x Max Verstappen

She knew in that final set that they understood. When neither boy would relent. When they asked her again after everything. She would admit, "It's like a dance. An intimate dance." An allegory to sex maybe. "You could never feel closer to a person until you're across from them."

Chestappen X Reader/OFC (left as reader but I have been referring to her as Tashi!Reader in my head)

venus as a boy — (sugar baby!Checo)

Checo Pérez x Max Verstappen

Sergio Pérez lives his life as a college student and a sugar baby that tries to cope with the fact that he can't race anymore for reasons known. With many past loves and potential sugar daddies, it's up to him to find his own footing in his life. Main: Chestappen, side checo x multi, minor Glance

like out of a film series -- (Cléo Sélène- fem!woc!OC)

Max Verstappen x woc!OC

French Opera-

As an assistant to Mexico's son, Formula 1 driver, Sergio 'Checo' Perez; Cléo navigates her own debut into the world of motorsports. All while falling for handsome man-whore drivers, gentle Spanish princes, and a very irritating Dutch a-hole. Contains: minor Charles x OC, and beginnings of Carlos x OC. Sequel is Baroque Opera.

Carlos Sainz x woc!OC

Baroque Opera-

In the wake of a devastating heartbreak at the hands of a Dutch manchild, Cléo finds herself falling for a Spanish driver this time. A man that seemed she was always meant to meet. As Checo's assistant and public relations secretary, she tries her hardest to hold onto her sanity and heart as Carlos tries to prove to her that she deserves to be loved. Sequel to French Opera.

Charles Leclerc x woc!OC

Un hombre busca una mujer.

Charles AU of French Opera continued from Chapter 18.

Mark Mateschitz x woc!OC

Empress

Cléo met Mark at the end of May. She, like everyone else, thought that Mark was working with the owner of the team. When she realizes that he's the heir of a very lucrative corporation, she'll have to navigate the media (for herself for once), the people around her, and her own shortcomings. An AU of French Opera.

The Spy Who Loved Me -- (Judith - spy!OC)

Sergio 'Checo' Pérez x spy!OC

Heaven or Las Vegas

He didn’t think it was stress when he spied a young woman dropping a small pill into a man's whiskey. And it definitely wasn’t stress when the man collapsed later that night clutching his chest. It was the first time that Sergio had seen someone die in front of him. And it was the first time that he saw the face of the killer.

Cuando Calienta El Sol/Hentai/Desafió

As Sergio has finished the season, he still kept on with his routine. Adamant that he build up strength, he forgot about the muscles that came with it. He gets to find out how much his partner appreciates the change in physique on their vacation. Can be a standalone but it was made with my spy x racer fic Heaven or Las Vegas.

Canned Heat -- (Omegaverse)

Carlos Sainz x woc!OC (Cléo Sélène)

Like a Tattoo by Sade 

Being a romantic was hard. Being an omega was hard, too. Both would be stupid. Finding her mate while she was craving donuts was stupid and lucky.

Lance Stroll x woc!OC (Beatrice Jones)

Le Temps D'amour

Lance Stroll already made his peace with never finding his mate. As he fell for the charming beta that presented for a sports network that he found himself watching more and more. Until her already lemonade-y scent shifted and everything fell into place.

Brooklyn Baby, Chelsea Girl -- Sugar Baby!reader or OC.

Susie Wolff x reader, Jenson Button x reader, Mark Webber x reader, Susie x Toto x Reader, multiple pairings.

Brooklyn Baby

A sugar baby gets involved with Australian driver, Mark Webber and gets caught up in his life as his dear friend and companion. She also cannot stop thinking about the older blonde woman that looks at her with hatred and disgust in her eyes because of her profession. Could be read as a Reader x Character due to the main character going unnamed. (Though this is a plot device on my end.) Includes Sebastian Vettel, Kimi Räikkönen, Sergio Pérez, Lewis Hamilton, Vicky Piria, Nico Rosberg in the pairings.