#dads in his feels today lmao

[uhohdad]

I know how specific this might sound so don't please don't hesitate to let this ask brew for a bit!: I'm wondering how loser!König would fair with a southern transmasc reader? Someone who's clearly backwoods country,but also cuntry, ya know? Ain't much to do other than swim in the rivers if your lucky,or check out nature if your not wanting to see the small towns scattered between said nature. Love love love your writings ofc,keep up the amazing work!

This is incredibly specific. I love it. Okay here we go I hope this tickles your fancy. Prob could be enjoyed by everyone.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・☆ ・・・・

☆ Loser!König was intrigued with you right from the start. He’s never met anyone like you before.

☆ He feels so comfortable with you. It was like he could tell you anything, and you’d just nod along. Not even so much as quirking an eyebrow at the odd things he says as you wade your ankles into the creek, hunting for crawdads to make friends with, just for the fun of it.

☆ He felt like he was swept off his feet, it’s amazing how such a simple lifestyle can feel so… magical, so thrilling. A whirlwind adventure that’s makes him feel alive, but simultaneously gives him a cozy, relaxing warmth foreign to him.

☆ (He’s not really sure if it’s the lifestyle, or if it’s just you.)

☆ You were so down to earth, so genuine, and you’d accepted König for who he was. His infatuation with you started here, and snowballed rapidly, and before he knew it he was in too deep.

☆ Funny, too. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s laughed this hard, this much. It’s always a good time with you.

☆ The stargazing is his favorite part. Konig’s fingers threaded together and resting on his waist. Lying in the bed of your shoddy old pickup truck, the stars clear and beautiful in the middle of no where.

☆ It’s still hard to keep his focus on the stars when you’re right next to him, your arms folded to use your hands as a pillow, shoe absentmindedly swirling as you soak in the night sky. He can’t help the way his eyes are lingering. How his head keeps tilting to admire you, taking you in as you lay.

☆ It’s the beer, he thinks. He’s had too much. Flushing his cheeks and giving him that warm feeling in his chest.

☆ No, maybe it’s the atmosphere. It’s so romantic out here, just you and him and the night sky.

☆ No, it’s definitely you.

☆ He wants to leave his old life behind, he wants to stay out here with you forever. He wants to chase this feeling, he wants to chase you.

☆ The air between you is electric. He can’t stop thinking about how he wants to touch you. How badly he wants to hold your hand, how he has the overwhelming urge to kiss you. As he stares at you, he can’t help but wonder if you feel it too.

☆ He’s thinking about you sliding on top of him, straddling him. Grinding down on him, teasing him, his hands on your hips as you revel in his needy whines and moans. He wants you to take him - right here, right now

☆ The thought alone is enough to bring his cock to attention.

☆ “See something you like, handsome?”

☆ A cheeky grin spreads thick as you side-eye him, watching him snap his head back to the night sky, as if that was going to save him, as if you haven’t been feeling the burn of his stare this entire time.

☆ You got him, successfully flustered him, he’s sure he’s ruined it.

☆ “Well, don’t play shy now.”

☆ He doesn’t even know what to say, tongue-tied and trying to put out the heat just under his skin, but he’s only fanning the flame.

☆ He’ll carefully meet your gaze, his mouth dry and his lips twisted in worry.

☆ “S’okay.”

☆ He gives a shaky nod, hoping it’s dark enough out here that you can’t see the glow on his cheeks.

☆ A hand slips from behind your head, elbow propped up on the ribbed tailbed, wrist limp as you offer your hand.

☆ Konig swallows, eyes wide and flitting between your hand and your eyes, twinkling as they reflect the stars.

☆ “Don’t make it weird, dude. Just hold my stupid hand.”

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・☆ ・・・・

ੈ✩

[ying-doodles]

quick modern au comic based off true events- (me and my dad at costco earlier today)

EDIT: there's a sequel now! the good ending~ :>

[sandpapersnowman]

I had been worried that cutting my dad off and distancing myself from him would put me in a difficult position with his side of the family but I've actually reconnected with a couple family members over how shitty he's been and it turns out I'm not the first one to stop talking to him, he's been blocked by like two of my aunts And my cousin

[hyunjinz]

.

[heartshattering]

Feeling like I want to give up again...

[chibikinesis]

.

[takhayyul]

i hate being the only cousin living in canada, its my cousins wedding in the coming weeks and they be having so much fun rn while i gotta go to my 9 to 5 tmrw

[pussymasterdooku]

.

[gibbearish]

oh no im remembering why i liked sebastian so much my first time through

[comas-are-for-sleeping]

growing up and watching my mom radicalize and realizing that my dad is less left than i thought he was

[hovkinnie]

im so fucking tired jesus christ

[doux-amer]

I can't believe I had such a massive headache and my eyes felt swollen all day because of the amount of crying I did this morning through the post-match farewell ceremony. I had to stay offline because everything would set me off, and like a fool, I just went on Instagram, thinking I'd be okay because I watched everything and for the new stuff, I could scroll past them and see them another day. But of course I cried again. The only way I'm getting through this week is because I have an overwhelming amount of work that's going to increase once the work week actually starts.

[ceolocunt]

[kavehater]

Genuinely gonna cry cause I saw the most disgusting thing ( literally what’s new I get new traumas at least once a day LMAO )

[ddejavvu]

hmmm mean!logan who makes a GREAT brat tamer, who will give your ass a quick slap in public for embarrassing him or talking back to him and gets you over his lap the moment you’re alone to really let you have it

bro… I need a hard, firm hand to show me who’s boss lmao

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni, mean!logan, spanking, brat taming, don't like don't read.

"I want some." You appeal to Logan one day, glancing at the rather intimidating drink in his hand. It's straight liquor, no sweet syrups or even ice to tamp down the effects. He drinks hard, something he's built a tolerance to over his long life, aided by his remarkable healing abilities. What he drinks makes your eyes water and your throat itch, but today you're feeling brave- perhaps from the drink in your own hand.

"No." He says simply, raising his glass to his lips and taking a hefty swig. It lowers the volume of liquor in the glass substantially, but he swallows it like it's water. You watch as the muscles in his neck contract slightly with the motion of his throat, and perhaps they tense at the sharp taste, but he remains mostly reactionless to the drink he's downing. You, however, would be tipping over.

"Come on, please? Just a little bit? I just want to try." You plead, bracing your hands on his arm in hopes that he'll take pity on you. But he doesn't, and all that's sent your way is a warning glance.

"Nothing bad's gonna happen." You insist, "If I get all loopy you can just take me home."

"I said no." His voice is gruff, and something indignant sparks in your chest. Fine. You're a grown woman- you can order one yourself. You've seen Logan order it a thousand times, you know it by heart and you'll pay for it yourself. He can't stop you.

You spin with a huff towards the bar, stalking towards the bartender with determination that Logan should be afraid of. Seconds before you can reach the bar, your fingertips inches away from the smooth, albeit sticky surface, Logan's hand grips your arm tight, and you feel a sharp, stinging sensation against your skin as he lands a harsh smack on your ass.

The slap is rough, tough, and forceful, just the way Logan manhandles you into the dingy hallway that leads to the bathrooms. It's cut off from the crowd but you can still hear the patrons inside, mere feet away as Logan's scowl bores down on you.

"What did I fucking say?"

"You said no, like you control me," You scoff, "You're not my dad! I'm well over 21, Logan, I can drink whatever I want!"

"Not when I plan on fucking you into the mattress tonight, stupid." He snarls, and your stomach flips with an intensity you know you'll be feeling all night long, "You don't think there's a reason I'm trying to keep you sober? Those fruity little drinks don't do shit that water can't fix. If you downed one of these you'd be sick for a week.”

"I thought-" You start, but he plows on, undeterred.

"You think I care what you drink? Knock yourself out, cowgirl," He snickers, his irritation gone but not forgotten as he condescends, "If you wanna shoot shit that'll make your head spin, then do it. But not tonight. I want you to remember my name so you can scream it."

[mischievousmoony]

hi, ok i have another idea for a fic which again totally up to you to write!! but i had an idea with dad!james and r where their kid is like equally obsessed with their mum as james is with r and one day james decides to prank their kid by saying something bad about the r while their kid is present and the baby just goes off. i feel like you would do an amazing job with this! feel free to ignore too. have a perfectly splendid day!!

-🪷

"the baby just goes off" painted a hilarious picture of an infant yelling at his dad in my mind lmao. ty for the request this warmed my heart to write + special thanks to @moonpascal for chatting a little about kids, gave me the reassurance & inspiration i needed

𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜

⟢ dad!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, dad/husband!james, mom/wife!reader, no use of y/n, no name for the son, idk how to write a child's dialogue tbh son's supposed to sound 4 years old

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

James gladly goes out of his way to mention to anyone who will listen that his little one is unmistakably a Mummy's boy. From family to friends to the poor souls who bag his groceries, James will talk the ear off of anyone he can.

He finds it to be the most endearing thing in the world— the way that your son is as obsessed with you as James is. Always staying close and clinging to you, touching affection radiating from every hug and smile.

Today, as he watches his son run back and forth across the carpet, handing his mother block after block just to see her face light up after each gift, his awe and admiration are insurmountable.

Last night, James surprised you with a pair of earrings that you have been wishing for. When your face lit up upon receiving the little leatherette box, so did your son's. He didn't quite understand why you were so excited about some cube, but since then he's been trying to replicate your excitement with presents of his own.

"Oh my! Another one! Thank you, buddy," you beam, you're gratefulness and delight unwavering as he hands you the sixth block.

Your son giggles, bouncing in his spot as you inspect each side of the little wooden toy, telling him how much you adore the blue penguin painted on one of its faces.

That's another thing that touches James' heart: the tender nurture and care that you bestow upon your son with such unwavering devotion and warmth. It has James convinced that you must be the best mum in the entire world.

He might just melt at the sight of you now, kneeling happily in front of a growing pile of blocks as your son scurries back and forth, adding to your collection. James sits cross-legged to your right, resting his elbow on his knee and laying his head in his hand, watching the two he loves most in the world with hearts in his eyes.

You gasp, as if surprised when handed block number seven. "Oh, this is my favorite one yet. How did you know I love zebras?" you ask, your thumb tracing over the red acrylic paint on the side of the block.

By the time you have twelve, nearly half of his collection, you say, "I have a lot of blocks here, buddy, do you want to give some to Daddy?"

"No!" your son protests immediately, running off to his toy box for the thirteenth time.

You and James both chuckle, exchanging amused glances. Finding your son's reaction hilarious, James’s mischievous side has him dreaming up new ways to push his buttons. Your son thinks the world of you, and James is curious to see what the little guy will do if he claims otherwise.

"Well, what am I gonna do with all of this? Should I..."

You leave your son in suspense for a moment, and his hands hover over his toy box as looks at you, hanging onto your every word in anticipation.

"...build a castle!?"

“Yeah!” your son cheers, scooping three more blocks into his arms, thrilled to supply the bricks for your castle.

James nudges you, a sign of his upcoming playfulness. “You sure about that, bud? Mummy is absolutely rotten at building castles.”

Halfway across the carpet, your son stops in his tracks, glaring at his father as he tries to keep his blocks from falling out of his arms.

Stifling a laugh, you press your fingertips to your lips. By now, you’re used to James’ bursts of mischief, and you’re more than happy to sit back and let them play out. Unless you’re an active participant, of course.

You muster up a scandalized gasp as he reaches for your mountain of presents, claiming three blocks in one hand.

“No!” your little one complains, rushing to drop his three in your lap to replace the ones that James stole, “those are Mummy’s!”

“You sure Mummy deserves all these blocks?” James asks, starting to stack them into a tower, “You watch, I’ll build a castle that’ll make her’s look like rubbish.”

Your son hastily makes his way over to his dad, both arms extended as he collides with the tower and sends the blocks flying. "Stop it," he says as he scoops up the nearest block and runs it back over to you, shouting, "Mummy's castles are the best!"

He climbs into your lap, clutching onto the toy tightly as one of your arms wraps around him, and you feel your heart start to melt as you rub soothing circles into his back. You look over your son's head, your eyes sparkling with affection as you meet your husband's tender gaze.

Not having the heart to mess with him for very long, James concedes, "You're right, I'm not being very nice, am I?"

"Nuh-uh!" your son replies, shaking his head with exaggeratedly vigor, the curls he gets from his dad bouncing about.

"What can I do to make it up to her?" James asks, turning the ordeal into a subtle lesson as he dramatically feigns sorrow and despair over his actions.

"'Pologize," your son commands, his head swiveling to look at James expectantly over his shoulder.

James puts on his most sheepish, apologetic smile, looking from his son to you. "I'm very sorry. He's right, your castles are the best. Can you forgive me, love?"

"Aw, of course I forgive you," you say warmly, your amusement manifesting as a wide smile. You lean back so you can get a good view of your son's face when you tell him, "You know, I bet what Daddy really wants is to build a castle with us. I love your presents, bud, but we don't want to leave Daddy out do we?"

He looks down at the block in his little hand. "No," he replies shyly.

"So why don't you ask him to build a castle with us?" You give him a pat on the back before releasing him from your arms. "Go on," you coax.

He steps closer to James, holding the block close to his chest. "We can all build a castle," he offers.

"Yeah?" James' face lights up, and it's not for show. Genuine joy takes over his features as he ruffles your son's hair, responding, "I'd love nothing more, little man."

"But you have to be nice to Mummy!" he demands, his little voice firm and earnest as he looks up at James with wide, serious eyes.

"I promise, I will be on my best behavior," James assures him, his voice sincere as he gives a playful salute. That's enough for your son, because he finally awards James with his very first block, which he accepts with pride.

"Good!" your son cheers, already moving on to the pile of blocks to start stacking them as he proclaims, "Mummy is the best, and we have to show it!"

Your lips part as you suck in a breath, a quiet gasp. Receiving your son's affection never fails to make your heart swell.

You don't feel James' eyes on you, but he's watching— admiring, more like, as he takes in the way that you soften at your son's sweet words. A smitten smile plays at his lips as he agrees, "She is the best, isn't she?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──