#leave headboard daddy alone

[rizzoreads88]

“Cassian never said I love you to Nesta”

That man proved how much he loved her time and time again…..Nesta is my favorite Acotar character… but this new wave of ultra extreme Nesta Stan’s got me like… what?

Yall could never make me hate Cassian or Nessian.

That man has loved Nesta whole heartedly since the moment they met. He kept reaching out his hand and never truly gave up on her. He knew exactly how to help her and exactly what she needed.Even when he was under mind control he still turned the knife on himself because he would rather ☠️ himself then ever hurt Nesta. But “he doesn’t love Nesta?!” Come on now.

Neither Cassian or Nesta are perfect but they are perfect for each other. Nessian is that gut wrenching passionate all consuming healing type love.

[macmillerxluvr]

♪ - i can feel the way you feel for me this is my playpen borderline thinking like barbie baby can you play ken?

SUGAR DADDY KENJI SATO

HEAD CANNONS

• kenji buys you a gold diamond chain with the letter k bold and center so when he’s taking you your tits are bouncing with the chain, marking you as his further more along with the amount of hickeys that he leaves all around your body

• he always provides you with the best of everything and regularly sends you cash through you phone typically sending you a message for you to buy something sexy for him to rip off later that night

• there’s an obvious age gap between you both but kenji doesn’t seem to mind that fact that you’re younger than him since he is only 26 and a 7 year age gap isn’t necessarily the worst, and he definitely doesn’t seem to mind when he’s impaling you with his 9 inch dick

• he insist on cumming in you, every time you guys fuck he always make sure that every last drop of his seed is inside your fucked pussy by continuously thrusting it into you even after climaxing

• the first time you both had sex together he was not even half way inside of you before you were telling him how much it hurts and that he’s too big, so he simply chuckled before sliding himself fully in making you screech as he pierced inside your throbbing cunt

• every 2 weeks he sends you cash for you to get you nails and feet done, on the condition that the nude base color is the color of his tip or his initial is somewhere on your nail

• you’ve both at least broken 3 beds in total from kenji thrusting and pounding into you so vigorously

• doesn’t matter when doesn’t matter where kenji is fucking you wherever and whenever, the shower? done it multiple times, the driveway? loud and proud, he owns the land around it and no neighbors for miles, his office? doggy style on the desk and chair with cum everywhere and at midnight? sometimes he gets home late and just want to snuggle his dick deep in your warm asleep cunt, so he does

• even though he insists there’s nothing of a relationship sorts going on between you both, he still damn well makes you be at every single one of his games cheering him on and after sucking him off as well as a reward for winning

• he will supply you with infinite amount of plane b’s or get you on birth control (for now before he decides to bby trap you)

• if it weren’t for him living so far away and alone the police would probably pull up for noises complaint because of how loud your moans and chanting are as he fucks you silly into the mattress

• will either punish you buy fingering the fuck out of consistency and stopping before you can cum or tucking a large vibrator inside your pussy on the highest mode and forcing you to not cum till your sobbing begging to be able to cum

• anything you want kenji can give it to you in a blink of an eye, as long as your eyes stay on him and not closed as he plows roughly inside of you making you grip onto the cum stained black silk bedsheets

• other than his clear breeding kink he also has a size kink, so when he’s thrusting inside you or in missionary what seems to mostly send the both of you over the edge is him pressing on the tummy bulge inside of you that his large cock created

• when in public sometimes he just has to relieve himself inside of you so he usually pulls you to the bathroom and rolls your panties to the side as you try not to squirm as he forces himself inside your pulsating pussy

• at first it took a while for you to get used to kenji length but now your pussys grown tolerant the pain for the pleasure as he fills you up till the very brim with his dick

• sometimes when he truly wants to savor you without you stopping him, he ties your hands up on headboard and legs tied up to either side of the bed and eats you out till your moans and screams are heard by all of tokyo and fucks you up til as many rounds as he can milk himself out in, or till your legs are shaking (which is mostly after the 5 round)

• when he bought you the car that you kept on talking about the first thing he did once he bought it was fuck you mercilessly in the back seats to claim you inside of it before anyone else enters it

• rarely but occasionally he’s sub and he’s in utter agony not being able to touch you as his hands are now tied along with his legs as you ride him til you both see stars but with every little moan or noise you make it’s all heard by him along with the sound of your thighs clashing together and the wet sounds your pussy makes, being like music to his ears making it seemingly worth it

• he often surprises you with trips and to fancy suites and airbnb’s where you’ll both just end up fucking all throughout the trip

• he makes you suck his cock til he’s at least cummed 3 times or til tears are flowing down your eyes, drools slipping out your mouth and til he hears you gag which is given on the girth and thickness of his dick

• kenji as well bought you your own huge penthouse (though you could’ve easily bought yourself considering you were a well known model) in which he installed a soundproof barrier around so when you guys have sex it’s aloud as you’d both like without causing issues

• whenever your around him he requires you to wear skirts for easy access so at any given moment he can simply slip your black lacy little panties from inside you mini skirt down your pedicured legs easily giving him your pretty little cunt out on display for him to toy and fuck with

[hysteria-things]

MY EYES ONLY

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a look into chris’s my eyes only…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: PURE FILTH, p in v, unprotected sex (nuh uh!), swearing, choking, stomach bulge, oral (female & male receiving), praising, degradation, daddy kink, jealousy, squirting, spanking, possessiveness, overstimulation, dumbification, cream pie, semi-public, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 888

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry for all the chris stuff lately i’m just so down bad for him but matt will make an appearance (hopefully) soon!

also… the last one will be turned into a fic😉

mattress digging deeper into your back every second, the hand around your throat only tightens. your small palm doesn’t even fit fully around his wrist. moans and pleas of ‘don’t stop!’ aren’t the only sounds echoing off the walls. the headboard bangs rapidly against the wall, a chuckle coming from chris every so often at your fucked-out state.

you two were extra horny this day, it seems, and of course, you had to take advantage of it. the video is taken from your drooling mouth down to the bulge in your stomach, chris quite literally balls deep inside of you. tits bouncing at the rapid pace he’s going, your nails dig deeper into his flesh. “yes! yes! yes!” you scream like a mantra, cum then coating his dick.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

to him, his finger slipped and “accidentally” pressed the post button. it starts casually with the desktop displaying fortnite, then he flips the camera to his face. a smug look is plastered on it before the camera flips again.

this time, it’s of you — under the desk with your boyfriend’s cock stuffed in your mouth. his other hand is wrapped around your locks in a makeshift ponytail, controlling the way you bob your head at a decent rhythm. all you have to do is sit there and take it.

looking at the camera with tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you smile, spit dribbling from the sides of your lips. he pushes your head down further to where the tip of your nose touches his pelvis, a gulp and gag going through his headphones before his face comes into view one last time. chris smiles smugly, with a caption that reads: we’re live! come hang out :)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

legs draped over his shoulders, your fingers massage lightly at the brunette between your plush thighs. the phone is propped up on the nightstand to make sure your entire body is in view. his tongue laps agonizingly slow on your puffy cunt, but it feels so good.

you’ve been a good girl all week; no attitude, no talking back, good manners, etc. you were in for a reward. this is your reward. he wants to eat you out like no other. until you see stars and that’s it.

soft moans fill the air, eyes fluttering closed and your mind blank. just how chris likes it.

growing closer to your high, you get impatient before rutting your hips forward, your moans growing louder. he hums disapprovingly, leaving your dripping hole empty. “no need to get naughty now, baby. i thought you were a good girl for me?”

“i am.” you whimper. “i’m sorry, daddy.”

thrusting his hips subconsciously into the mattress because of the nickname, he delves back in to suck on your clit. that alone washes the first of many orgasms through you. you end up passing out at the end.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

an argument sparked this beauty, which is also chris’s personal favorite. for context, you guys argued over something stupid before going to a party. because you’re so petty, you decided to purposely talk with a random guy at the function to get chris’s blood boiling. giving him those ‘fuck me’ eyes from across the room.

before you knew it, you were holding on for dear life on a pillow in a random bedroom he dragged you into. the velvet dress you’re wearing is bunched above your ass, and your panties are ripped in half and thrown to the floor. crying out apologies into the blanket is no use, skin stinging with his handprint on it. the video is hard to make out because of how fast the phone is shaking in his hand.

“fucking brat.” he spanks you again, a sob leaving your throat. “you think he can fuck you stupid like this? huh?”

his hand makes contact at least three more times during that sentence, and your body shakes uncontrollably. he already ripped two orgasms out of you. “that’s right. take it just like that — whose pussy is this?”

“yours.” you exhale, squirting without warning from the overwhelming pleasure and penetration.

gripping the top of your hair, he lifts your head. “scream it, slut. they can’t hear you.”

“yours, chris! it’s all yours!” you gasp, knuckles white from your grasp on the sheets.

looking down at the way his cock brutally thrusts in and out of your tight pussy, his jaw slacks at the sight. you clench around him as his tip repeatedly hits your cervix, eyes rolling when you cum harder than ever before.

he arches your back further to get as deep as he can with a grunt. his hips stop, long ropes of cum spilling the farthest it goes into your womb. pulling out, he takes two fingers to help his seed stay inside you, the rest dripping down your legs the rest of the night.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

it’s dark. the photo is barely visible but visible at the same time if you look at it long enough. the table in front of you has a reflection of the moon, your tits that are painted white take up half of the screen. the other half is of your face, a smile peeking through your lip bite. a tatted arm snakes around your neck, the selfie angled up high.

be careful leaving your things behind, chris. the text says.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @asluttttforanakinskywalker @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07 @sm-ec @mattluvsmarni @knowingnothingnoel @mattsgirlfrieeend @bambi-slxt @sturnstvr @sturnclouds @bernardsbendystraws @maryx2xx

[crypticminx]

i saw u were taking reqs for jacob elordi x reader so what about like cute, giggly morning sex if that makes sense

i’m so down bad for this man 🙏

Yessss ofcccc! Also making this husband and dad Jacob bc I need him so bad too :((( tysm lovey ~ also I didn’t do sex just him eating u out (sex w Jacob soon heheh)

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡

You woke up to the feeling of budding hands caress your cheek, the softness of his hands were enough to make you doze back into your interrupted sleep. Gentle motions sent waves of comfort down your spine.

Up and down, they graciously glided until you resorted to opening your tired eyes. the sight laid before you left you irresistibly smiling while squinting as the sunlight poured its beam to light up your bedroom. Creating an abundance of bright hues.

Your husband, Jacob, pierced his eyes at you with an enchanting grin that washed over his face; highlighting the esscense of his beauty that reminded you of one of the many reasons he charmed his way into your heart.

Jacob’s hand slowly retracted away from you as you shifted your limp body into a somewhat sitting position, letting your arched back rest on the bed headboard behind you.

“Good morning,” he whispered with radiant eyes.

You let out an amused sigh, your hands rubbing the remainder of sleep that was left inside. “Mmm, what time is it?”

He glanced at the tiny clock on the night side table, “half past seven.”

You groaned in realization that you could get away with thirty more minutes of rest before enduring your daily routine. Shuffling back down to let your head rest on your silk pillow, you admitted, “it’s too early, love.”

He paused and blinked slowly for a slight minute, moving closer to allow his hand to comb through your undone hair.

“Just missed you…” he almost sounded sorry as his tone was full of remorse for not being able to spend intimate moments like this with you all the time.

You knew what he was referring to.

Jacob’s schedule with acting had been extremely busy the past few months. Leaving him to fly out for specific casting calls or meeting with certain producers who admired his talented work. You were proud of him and wanted nothing more for him to continue succeeding in the field of film, but every time he had a last minute flight to catch, your heart ached with a familiar homesick feeling.

One that wouldn’t exit your soul until you got to reunite with your husband. Having the privilege of feeling his warmth and love in physical form was enchanting.

However, you were never alone.

Your little daughter, Lilly, kept you occupied and was the best form of sweet company. The spitting image of her father with her large curious brown eyes and silky chestnut locks, she was always there to remind you of him.

The two of you would lounge around your secluded house, watching movies, making crafts to gift for daddy when he would return home and FaceTiming him whenever he had the rare moment of free time.

And of course, there was Jacob’s beloved angel of a dog, Layla, who was an adorable companion that would cuddle beside you anytime you’d relax on the sofa and played long rounds of fetch with Lily in your large backyard. It was obvious she missed her loving owner just as much as you did.

“We missed you too,” he smiled at your courteous words, leaning to kiss your soft lips, letting his tongue swirl with yours. Loving the taste of your sweet mouth no matter what time of the day.

With no hesitation, his touch starved hands glided down to your tank top, gently tugging the straps down to reveal your chest.

“Jacob!” You exclaimed, followed by a quiet laugh, completely aware your daughter was most likely still sleeping in the room beside yours.

His hands cupped perfectly around your boobs, your nipples growing hard at the smooth contact that was the palms of his hands.

“Come on, baby,” his thick brows raised with his slick charm, “you think all those pictures you sent me while I was away is better than having the real thing right in front of me?

You blushed with hot, red cheeks as he brought up all the little things you’d do for him while the distance between the two of you left him aching for you.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Oh hush you,” you playfully rolled your eyes, feeling him squeeze a tad bit tighter at your breasts.

“Mmm,” he hummed moving down to latch his mouth on one of your exposed boobs. Your nails clutching deep into his hair as his head laid on your chest. You dug deeper as his tongue circled in brisk motions. Leaving Jacob to pause for a swift moment.

“Ow,” he exaggerated in a comical tone. You ruffled his shaggy hair down to his forehead as he licked his lips. “I wasn’t done.”

“My bad,” you winked, letting a tiny yawn escape you.

“Well,” he purred, moving his body down to your stomach as he moved the sheets to go gently over his head. “I’ll just continue down here.”

“Babe,” you pleaded with pouty eyes. “I don’t wanna make too much noise.”

Jacob was just too irresistible.

He perpetually longed for your body laid in front of him. He constantly missed you at all times you were forcefully apart. Having the long awaited freedom of getting to spend a relaxing morning with you was more than a luxury to him.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you, stroking your thigh with his nimble fingertips, “our little love sleeps like an angel. She won’t hear us.”

You pretended to stall, placing a finger on your soft lips for effect. You knew the answer though and you didn’t have to think twice. You needed this—you craved this.

Giving him the look was the green light for the hungry man. He inched himself further down until he was hidden beneath the sheets and placed perfectly in between your bent thighs. The amount of small stubble he had neglected to shave gently tickled you and having no urge to fight off the feeling it provided, you couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“When’s the last time you shaved?” You snickered with amusement, hearing him groan as you lifted the sheets only to not receive a response from him, but his face diving deep into your exposed parts.

He was smooth with his actions, he got straight to business and you could barely remember him taking off your panties.

A build up of heat and tingly vibrations inside of you began to stir your sex drive into motion. Having Jacob’s tongue wither it’s way into your partially wet lips was a luxurious feeling, he knew how to let your tension go by the ways of his mouth.

Your clit was caressed and it felt loving. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t sloppy. It was perfect because he did it with love.

“Taste so good, baby,” you heard a vacant mumble in between his swirls, he always made sure to praise you. After all, you were his main source of inspiration and the very thing that kept him striving for more.

You were his wife; the woman he vowed to spend the rest of his happy life with. You were the woman who gave him the best gift of all; his daughter. With everything he ever did to your body that pleasured you to no end, he always wanted to reassure you that you were more than a heavenly angel to him.

“Keep going, honey,” you tried your best to surpass a moan from exiting you, but failed miserably. Jacob’s mouth playfully tugged around the surface of your wet inner parts, something he knew you adored and always left you with insane build up.

Warm waves flowed down to your inner core, passion from Jacob’s mouth worked its magic into always providing you with a quick release.

You breathed heavily as his tongue surfaced deep into you, feeling so stimulated it reminded you of the old days when the two of you had a free house and could be as obnoxious as you pleased.

He made you feel warm. The pressure of his suctioning lips gave you sanctuary bliss.

You craved nothing more than the simple action of cuming on his face. Watching him suck all of your juices as you’d pour out your ecstasy was more rewarding than anything else in the heat of the moment.

As you could feel yourself letting go into a haze of vibrations there was a small, frail knock at the door.

“Shit,” you heard rumble from under the sheets as you slid up with the most energy you could gather while Jacob eagerly covered you back up with your undergarments.

You slid your tank top back to cover your chest, seeing Jacob mentally cursing at the interrupted moment, but smiling because he knew who was at the door waiting to be allowed entry.

Regaining composure and trying to wipe any of the remaining stamina left in the two of you, Jacob called out, “come in.”

Your daughter slowly opened the door, looking energetic as ever as she appeared to be ready to start the day. Her movement turned quick as her face lit up like a Christmas tree upon seeing her Father. She was thrilled that he was home and raced to his opened arms as she jumped on the bed.

“Daddy, I’m so glad you’re back,” she cried out with glee as Jacob smothered her with his large arms. She still seemed so tiny in comparison to him.

“Of course, angel,” he planted a kiss on her head, smooching loudly as she nuzzled deep into his bearing chest.

She looked up at him with doe eyes, revealing how much she missed her dad, “Layla and I missed you so so much.” It made him chuckle at how much she grew to adore that dog. She was nurturing just like her beautiful mother.

Your heart melted at the scene and Jacob grinned at you with a beaming smile before he turned to Lilly again. “Oh sweetheart, I can promise you daddy missed you more.”

“And what about me?” You poked the young girl, who in response, leaped onto your lap as you kissed her cheek.

“Good morning, my love,” you showered her with affection as she flung her arms around your neck. Slowly cradling her in a soothing rhythm before she left your embrace to sit in front of you and Jacob.

“Sweetie,” Jacob gestured her attention back to him as he began to slowly dress himself, throwing on a loose throwover you placed on the laundry basket next to his side of the bed. “Why don’t you go downstairs and feed Layla and then mummy and I will be right with you, okay?”

She nodded, the loose braids she slept in swayed with her motion. “Yes daddy,” she crawled off the bed as she happily ran out of your room and into the long corridors outside.

Jacob chuckled and shook his head, finding himself so relieved to be back home with his girls. He faced you as you slowly stretched your way out of bed and shuffled yourself to where he was slowly fixing himself up. You wrapped your arms around his waist as your head laid on his back. He shifted your arms around to where you could view his ecstatic face.

“Don’t worry,” he looked down at your twinkling eyes that never stopped sparkling, “I’m not finished with you yet, angel.”

You bit your lip, “I’m looking forward to it.”

What a beautiful morning it was turning out to be at the Elordi household.

[drewsarms]

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི Daddy looked so so soooo good today!! All these pictures of Drew has me spiraling!!! I had to write a little something!!

It had been almost 2 weeks since you last seen Drew in person. With all of the press and traveling he was doing it was almost impossible to catch him on a free day. Your neediness had taken over you and it was evidently clear. Sending nudes and teasing little photos to Drew throughout the day saying how much your pussy misses him. How much you missed him. “You better be ready when I see you,” was the message you received from him that had your pussy literally aching.

All it took was for the two of you to be back in the hotel alone after Poguelandia. Drew wasted no time ripping your clothes off and groping you like a perv. Like a man in heat. “God. You looked so fucking sexy today baby. All of this for daddy, huh?” Your half lidded eyes full with seduction and affection looked up at him as you nodded slowly while biting your lip. “Get that ass up on the bed. I’ve been waiting for this since the moment I left.”

He pounded into you like his life depended on it. The headboard repeatedly hit the wall, surely to cause a noise complaint from the people staying next door. Your legs were shaking as your body kept coming undone from how good Drew was drilling his thick cock into you. “That dick that good baby?” He said through a chuckle. Your tears stained your cheeks as you managed to squeak out a “yes daddy” from your swollen, bitten lips. “Fuck me like you missed me. Please Drew! I need it!”

The plapping and wet noise from your squelching pussy filled them room making Drew groan with how good you felt around him, your pussy was sucking him in, completely swallowing his length. You reached back in attempt for him to slow his thrust down but he grabbed your arm as he slapped your ass, hard, making sure to leave a mark. “None of that baby. I told you to be ready when I saw you. Take this fucking dick like a good girl.”

Tags: @nemesyaaa @rafescokewhore @starkeysprincess @starkeyslove @starkeyisthelastname @venic-bxtch @archiveofvirtue @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafesthroatbaby @rafecameroninterlude @fae-of-prey

[muntitled]

most to least likely in enhypen to have a daddy kink? <3

Fatherless Behaviour: Enha Edition

Cw: Language, nsfw, +18, daddy kink, ddlg themes, edging, breeding kink

Now you're speaking my language

₊ ⊹ - Jay

If there's one thing that everyone in his life is certain of, its that Jay is wholeheartedly and irrevocably obsessed with caring for his girl. It came natural for him to refill your water bottles when you found yourself immersed in your study notes during odd hours of the day; the way he'd tuck your braids behind your ear when you were reading on the couch. It even manifested in him cooking for you, a routine that you both fell ceremoniously into the very moment you moved into his apartment.

You watch from your position by the counter as your boyfriend meticulously plates his obscenely artistic rendition of scallops and risotto. His brows are furrowed and his pert lips are clamped shut as he focuses on work. His exposed arms lend you the sinful view of your nail marks left from when he beant you over the second you arrived after work. Promising to eat you out after you both had an actual meal.

He's so incredibly in charge as he glides about the kitchen, and you only realize far too late that Jongseong was already placing your food in front of you while he stood at a safe distance on the other side of the island separating you both.

"Dinner's served, Princess- put the phone down yeah?" You click your phone off, feeling your stomach erupt into a swarm of moths, butterflies and every other winged creature that exists.

"You spoil me." You tease, suddenly feeling uninterested in eating anything that wasn't him.

"You deserve to be spoilt." He says with a light shrug, as he turns to busy himself with cleaning up. You don't ask if he's going to join you because he rarely ever does, always concerned with making sure you eat first.

"My friend's say you spoil me too much-" you look down at your food while innocently picking and prodding at your meal.

"Might as well call you 'Daddy', they said," a clash of dishes in the sink invite a flurry of coughs from Jongseong who raises his head. His eyebrow is quirked.

"Should I?" You ask, completely enamored with the way he leans back against the counter with his arms folded as if he were humoring you, "Should you what?"

"Call you that?"

"I dont suppose any human being would like to be called 'That'" Jongseong says, striding slowly towards you with his hands behind his back. "Be more specifc. What do you wanna call me-"

"I dont feel like having supper right now," your eyes crinkle with mischief, "Daddy." The second those words leave your mouth, solidifying a new web in your already intricate relationship, Jongseong stands behind you. His front is pressed against your back. You're almost in risk of slipping off the barstool but he has you- hand wrapped around your front, pulling you backwards until his cock is firmly pressed into your back, letting you know just how turned on he actually is.

You must not be in the mood to eat dinner since trouble is the only thing you apparently seek.

"Fuck dinner, since apparently you're concerned with something else." He lowers his face to your hair, rubbing his hand along your face like his most coveted possession. "Tell Daddy what else your friends say about us..."

₊ ⊹ - Sunghoon

It'd happen quite unceremoniously, quite surprisingly while Sunghoon is reclined against the headboard.

Reading.

Reading with his book in his one hand, while the other is splayed around you, fingering you to dangerous orgasm. Your legs are forced open by the invisible weight of his words alone, warning you of the consequences if you dared snap your legs shut while he's busy 'taking care of you,'

"S-Sunghoon, please..."

You should have cum 15 minutes ago, when you innocently asked your boyfriend for a little bit of attention away from his book. 5 chapters later and Sunghoon was still lazily rubbing at your clit, playing with your wetness while his brows furrowed as he followed along with the story.

Sunghoon snickered along with whatever he encountered in those inky pages while you lay in between his legs, utterly damaged. Your hips stuttered upwards as his long fingers swiped across your clit once more. A gasp wrenched itself from your throat.

"F-Fuck, D-Daddy I'm gonna cum-"

Its the first time his head snaps away from the book and he watches with wide eyes as you come undone on his fingers. He's far too enamoured to stop you, far too enamoured to keep you from slipping over the edge any longer. Sunghoon's face is absolute stone, his parted lips being the only indication that he's even slightly surprised.

"U-Uh, I'm sorry- it just sorta slipped out-" before you could ever even finish your sentence, Sunghoon is pushing you off his lap, discarding his book on the floor.

"Hoonie- what're you-"

"Getting rid of your birth control." He answers back robotcually.

"Didn't know you were trying to get pregnant but I'm down if you're down."

He flushes your birth control down the drain.

₊ ⊹ - Heeseung

Kink had been a revolving door of conversation between you and Heeseung since the very moment you had sex. It was not uncommon for you both to randomly bring up sexual topics with each other because you were still in the weird and sticky learning stage of your relationship. Heeseung was especially very vocal about the little things you did that drove his mind into sordid places. It was natural for him to randomly say, "Wait that was so hot," or "Fuck do that again," especially when you found yourself, as you currently were, beant over the kitchen counter.

Heeseung had expressed how attractive he found it when you engaged in domestic activities around the house so in actual fact, you should not be surprised that he had your tits pressed against the cold marble counter and your panties stuffed in your mouth because Heeseung loved how much of a slut it made you look for him. "This is such a pretty dress, baby-" Heeseung is absolutely insatiable as he fists your skirt over your ass, rutting into you like he couldn't bear to be apart from your body.

"The moment I saw you-" He's slurring his words together, so utterly caught in lust and you can feel his drool land on your ass. "The moment I saw you I knew I had be inside you, Princess-"

You'd never been particularly affected by nicknames at the best of sometimes, however, it was something about the way he said it -so natural and cute like he truly believed you were his little princess- that had your inhibitions melting away.

"F-Fuck Daddy-"

"Oh my god, I'm gonna cum-" Heeseung’s hand lands on your back, pressing you further down onto the counter as he cums prematurely inside you. "F-Fuck!" He huffs. "WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT!? WHERE DID YOU LEARN THAT-"

"Hee, I h-havent cum yet, please-"

He reaches his hand between your bodies, jerking himself off against your folds as he says, "call me daddy again and I'll be ready to fuck you in no time-"

₊ ⊹ - Jake

While not nearly as much of a ddlg indulger, Jake strikes me as the kind of insatiable boyfriend that constantly has his mind in the gutter. So anything you say, no matter how innocent or veiled in a joke it might seem to be, I feel like Jake would somehow find a way to bring the topic back to sex. Innocent Daddy namedrop included.

He's be laying on the bed tapping away at the screen of his phone utterly consumed by a mobile game and if you ask him whether he completed an errand you asked him to run for you, and he mumbles 'yes' and you immediately reply wiyh "Thanks Daddy,"- yeah, his mind is going to unsavoury places.

Jake would discard his phone to the side, and immediately start undoing the drawstring of his sweatpants.

"What is going on right now?" You'd ask as he pulls you onto his lap, immediately cupping your breasts in his palms with his face buried in your neck.

"Daddy huh?"

"U-Um" He'd force your hips to start moving against his lap, all while whining, "You can't just say stuff like that..."

₊ ⊹ - Sunoo

You'd have to catch him in the height of an orgasm in order to get any sort of reaction from it. "Oh my god, Im gonna cum," while he's jerking himself off to your tits, and you sinisterly mumble, "Just like that, Daddy-" hed cum on the spot, but only because you're really hot, DEFINITELY not because you elevating him to a posution of sexual power had any wffect on him. He would be sulky immediately after lile, "Why would you say that!?"

"Why did you cum from it, Kim Sunoo."

Otherwise, I don't imagine that's his vibe. He gets to call you baby, but he does NOT wanna be called Daddy half the time.

₊ ⊹ - Jungwon

He feels like a weird in-between. He'd choke on his water if you whispered, 'Thanks Daddy,' in his ear at one of the team Dinner's but I can imagine him being just as turned on by you calling him baby too.

He falls apart later on when you're both together, alone. Kissing up the side of your neck while he needlessly mumbles, "Call me that again, please?" More wet kisses. "Call me daddy again?"

[deathbecomesthem]

Basement Apartment - Part 1 of 2

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader - 4.8K

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI

Summary - It's 2001, and you've just moved into this new basement apartment. It's not so bad, except for the neighbor directly above your bedroom.

Contains a mean reader (kinda). Both parts have their smutty stuff, but part 2 will go a lot harder. Reader is bisexual. This is kind of an enemies to lovers deal. Sorta. Alcohol. Use of derogatory language against Eddie.

A/N: Thank you @jo-harrington for loving this story, and thank you for editing this at a moment's notice. Love you forever.

---

No. No. No. Not again. It’s 2:07 on Wednesday morning, and it’s happening again. You know it’s going to be at least an hour, probably longer, before it’s quiet enough for you to sleep. You know the routine at this point. Different partners, but the play-by-play appears to be the same. You could set your clock by it at this point. You don’t begrudge your neighbor his fun, lord knows you like having a good time, but fucking hell - can he remember he’s in a building with thin walls and neighbors that have to wake up early for work in the morning?

The anger’s been building inside since that first night. Tonight, you’re pushed over the limit. His stamina is impressive. The knock, knock, knocking of the headboard against the outer wall of both of your bedrooms is a familiar sound that alone wouldn’t keep you up. It’s the moaning, the occasional *SLAP* that makes your eyes pop open. An unpleasant surprise scream of, “Daddy!” sets your teeth on edge. You can hear his rhythm falter at the word, and it makes you huff a laugh under your breath. She won’t be coming back tomorrow night. Must not be his thing - you try hard not to think about why you care, and still make the mental note. It’s not your thing either. 

Your current thing is getting at least 6 consecutive hours of sleep when you have to wake up at 7:00 am and be able to function in the office. You’re absolutely done and ready to make a scene. It’s been almost a month in your new place, and it’s clear that Mr. Upstairs is not slowing down. Mary, your roomie, has been begging you to be cool, begging you to let it go, but her room isn’t directly beneath a fucking brothel. See, Mary has already met one of the guys in the apartment upstairs, and she’s smitten. “He’s tall, gorgeous green eyes, and his hair. Oh my god, his hair.” Oh, his hair, oh my god. Vomit. If you hear any more about this guy’s hair, you’re going to light it on fire. Plus, what if he’s the one that’s been fucking the entire city’s worth of girls right above your own bed? Mary refuses to believe it. 

Your clock reads 3:30 when the noises stop, and you’re able to sleep. Your alarm is set for 6:30, giving you plenty of time to get ready for work and still have time to hike up the stairs and meet the dickhead of a neighbor. You have no idea what you expect him to do about his noise issue, but you’re sure as hell going to give him a piece of your mind. He can get his rocks off in his living room as long as you don’t have to listen to him saying, “oh, fuck. Your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum,” one more time. It’s the same script with every person he brings home. As you drift off, your brain scrolls through ideas - things you could do to make this man lose enough brain function to be able to form speech.

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*

You shower. You brush your teeth. You fix your hair. You put on your (warpaint) makeup. You pour your coffee into a travel mug. You pack your briefcase. You feed the cat. You do all of your morning things while seething with anger. You make sure to keep it at the forefront of your mind. The fucking noises. You’re so tired, and your day hasn’t even started yet. You march your ass up the stairs in your heels and wool pencil skirt and knock. Loudly. You kept knocking. You aren’t leaving until you have some satisfaction. You check your watch. Shit. You start pounding.

You hear noises behind the door marked 2A, a grumbling. “Hold on!” An angry shout directed at the person pounding on the door. You. The door jerks open. Grey sweats, bare feet, bare chest, oh god the tattoos, long curly hair, and brown eyes. Not green. Not Mary’s guy. Mr. Brown Eyes is smiling at you, annoyance forgotten. “Good morning, Sweetheart. What can I help you with.”

Oh, no. It’s him. You scoff and frown. Your eyebrows are drawn together while you take in the sight of him in the new context. The grin spread across his full lips infuriates you, his charms are lost on you. Maybe it would work better if you weren’t currently surviving on less than 4 hours of sleep. You can feel heat creeping up your neck and down the line of your jaw. 

“Hi, yeah. So, I live downstairs. You can absolutely do me a favor.” You smile at him with teeth, and he thinks his charms are working on you. He’s so wrong. That cocky bullshit never works with you. He returns your wide grin with one of his own. “I’m hoping that in the future you could take a moment to remember the fact that you have a neighbor downstairs that can hear you fucking the night away and keep it down.” His smile fathers - you go in for the kill, “Or at least maybe up your game. I’m getting really fucking tired of hearing the same shit with every girl you bring home.” You drop your voice to imitate his, “Oh, fuck. Your pussy’s so good, I’m gonna cum.”

You take a quick look at your watch while the half naked man in front of you flounders. His chest and neck are flushed red by the time you turn on your heel and stomp towards the back door of the building. You’re going to be late, you add it to the list of reasons to hate that fucking guy. Selfish dick.

You turn back to push open the door and call back, “Thanks so much, Daddy.”

–

The office is quiet when you let yourself in, but it doesn’t fool you. The stack of papers you left Friday afternoon are still waiting for you after you drop your lunch in the fridge and sit down. On cue, the phone rings, and you’re still pulling out a pen and legal pad when you answer it. Fucking Mondays. Everyone needs something from you, and you provide. It’s what you do. You think some day you’ll wake up empty, but it hasn’t happened yet.

You bite back a yawn and take a scalding gulp of the coffee from your Garfield mug. You hiss a little and wonder if there are scars on your esophagus from the acid and burning liquid. The taste of the weak Maxwell House brew is a reminder to get to work. No time to worry about the possible deterioration of your body, you put a rubber thimble on your thumb and get to the stack of mail sitting expectantly on the edge of your desk. 

“Morning, Sunshine.” Mr. Misny comes through the door like a hurricane force wind, just like every morning. Even the smile he wears is meant to intimidate, but you know that and let it feed the anger inside. “What’s my morning look like?”

“Carrington and Hodges at 9:15,” you put your hand up to stop the protest you can see rising up your boss’s throat, “it was the only time they could both make it. You’ll have to eat your pastry while you talk about their case. I saved a couple of hours for brief writing before your early afternoon meetings.”

“Well, aren’t you a peach?” Mr. Misny’s comically expressive eyebrows shoot up and his lips curl with a smile that has an edge. “What would I do without you, hm?”

You’d hire someone else for less than they’re worth and condescendingly thank them while never actually respecting the hard work they perform.

“You’d probably be late for every meeting.” You answer coolly. You can’t help but add, “Checks speak louder than words, Tim.”

He laughs at your “joke” and heads into his office, shaking his head all the way. He won’t be laughing when you finally turn in your resignation letter, but that won’t be today. Today you need to do this job that pays measly wages so you can afford your shitty little apartment. Your shitty little apartment where you can only sleep a couple of nights a week because of the son of a bitch that lives upstairs.

But he’s gorgeous. You slam the stapler down on the stack of papers in front of you at the thought. He’s gorgeous, and it only makes you angrier to have that visual frame of reference when you hear his headboard knocking on your shared wall. 

—

The day passes in front of you, and it’s not until your wristwatch chirps to remind you that it’s 4:30 that you realize you forgot to eat your lunch. Again. The alarm seems to have awoken your stomach, it growls angrily while you shove half finished work items into the drawers at your side and power down your word processing machine. When you leave your desk, it’s in perfect order, all the clutter is hidden away.  Your inbox is empty, your outbox is half full, and your pens are all put away. You were able to spend several hours transcribing today, and your head was pounding from having to listen to your boss’s voice over the headset for so long. Your mood is, as it was this morning, on the very edge of quiet rage. Your car coughs to life, and you think it’s as annoyed as you are today. That seems appropriate.

The drive is easy and quiet, a small blessing, the icy patches on the road are covered with fresh salt that crunches under your tires. You can’t find it in yourself to be grateful for it, your mind too fogged over with hunger and exhaustion. You’re sleeping tonight, and it doesn’t matter if you have to knock your neighbor unconscious to achieve a quiet night. 

Your luck runs out when you find the lock to the front of your apartment building frozen, and you lose your balance. You curse your impractical footwear and march angrily, and cautiously, to the back entrance and let yourself in. FInally. You scowl at apartment 1 and make your way down to the darker hallway where the laundry room, and your apartment, are located. There’s a brown paper bag taped to the door just under the number 2. There’s a note attached. You pull it down to read while you fiddle with your keys to unlock the last door between you and your refrigerator.

Pretty Neighbor Lady,

I’m so sorry we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe these will help with our little problem. Consider it a gift. Stop by any time, I’d love to see you again.

-Eddie in apartment 2

You don’t even wait until you get inside the apartment before you tear open the bag to see what could possibly be hiding inside. A small cardboard box that contains - are you fucking kidding me - foam earplugs. The same kind your father used to wear when he worked at the warehouse. You write the name  “Eddie” at the top of your mental scorecard. “Eddie”, a real piece of work. 

—

Merciful silence. That’s the only way to describe the way the rest of the week goes. You don’t hear a sound from the man that lives above you. You almost wonder if he’s unwell, but you’ve caught sight of him in the parking lot a couple of times and he seems perfectly fine. You hadn’t expected it to work, but you’re glad you confronted him when you did. 

By the time Friday afternoon rolls around, you’re full of happy thoughts of napping with Henry, your orange tabby, before getting properly wasted and finding someone to pass the time with. It’s been too long, and you deserve this. 

Your apartment is dark when you get home, no Mary to be found. Henry has already assumed his nap position in your bed. You scratch behind his ear, and he chirps in response. Sweet boy. The shirt you want to wear out tonight, a red deep v-neck sweater, is on the top of your dirty laundry pile. It’s a sign, so you grab the basket and make your way across the hall to the laundry room. You can sleep once you start a load, you’ll thank yourself later. Last minute, you decide to throw in the outfit you’re wearing, and slip into a tank top and shorts. Ridiculous choice for this time of year, but the basement stays nice and warm - actually uncomfortably warm most of the time - laundry room included.

You’re relieved to find the washer and dryer silent. You count it as a small win until you open the washer and find it full of wet clothes. You’re tempted to throw the clothes onto the counter beside you, but decide against it. No need to make enemies, or any more enemies, in the building. Fine, asshole. I’ll dry your clothes. You’re lucky you have 2 rolls of quarters on you. 50 cents is worth keeping the peace.

What you find in the washer are - 2 pairs of black jeans, several black button ups, a couple of band t-shirts, black boxers, and grey sweatpants. You should have known that this is the kind person he is - leaving his wet boxers in a communal washing machine with no thought about the person that would have to stick their hands in to fish them out. With delicate fingers, you pull out each article of clothing with the tips of your fingers, and you fling them into the open dryer. You’re not aware of the audible grumbling coming from your mouth while you do the unpleasant task.

“Well, howdy neighbor! You’re an absolute sweetheart for switching my laundry for me.” The voice from the entryway makes you jump. You immediately straighten your back and ignore him. You ignore the steps you hear moving, sauntering, towards you, and keep focused on the job at hand. “You should stop by tonight,” he’s much closer now, his low voice and heavy presence at your back, “your roommate’s upstairs with Stevie right now. We could all get to know each other, all friendly neighbors.”

You slam the top of the washing down and spin to face him. He’s directly behind you, close enough to smell him. Cologne - Brut maybe? - cigarette smoke, and faintly of weed. He stands over you like a tower, but you don’t step back. You hold his gaze and wait. You, in your too short shorts and paint speckled tank top wearing an armor of barely suppressed rage. He breaks eye contact to look at you. You watch his eyes widen at the sight of the tattoos. His lips twitch when he sees the barbells poking through the thin fabric of your shirt. All of these things are so well hidden under the blazers and dress pants Monday through Friday.

“I would really like to take you out for a drink,” Eddie’s eyes are locked on yours again, only this time he seems to have shrunk down a little. He seems smaller than he did just a moment ago. It stirs a strange feeling in your stomach that you ignore.

“Thanks so much for the offer, neighbor, but I have plans tonight. Please, get your shit out of the dryer when it’s done. I’d hate for you to find it all over the concrete if you forget.” You push past him, heading towards your apartment door and hear him groan behind you.

“Come on, Sweetheart. You need to loosen up, get that stick out of your ass. I bet I could help with that.” 

You turn around and press your back against the metal door of your apartment and crook a finger at him. He’s so cocky, you’re thinking while the smile spreads across his lips and he makes his way closer to you, I’d love to bend him over my knee right here in this hallway.

“Come here.” You crook your finger at him. Eddie’s giving you a dopey smile as he sashays close, bringing his ear down closer to your mouth. He smells like shampoo and Irish Spring, clean with a hint of something - probably his skin - that makes you want to stick your tongue out and taste him. Instead, you rest your fingers at the base of his neck. You keep your tone soft, and put on the best sultry voice you can muster outside of a bedroom, “Don’t you worry about what’s up my ass, Sweetheart. I don’t let cocky little whores anywhere near it.”

Eddie is a statue. You’d think him made of stone if not for the quickening pulse you feel under your fingertips. You stand up on the balls of your feet to give yourself a couple extra inches, angling your mouth even closer to his ear, and whisper, “What about your ass, Baby?”

You give Eddie an exaggerated frown and push him away from you, moving the hand from his neck down to his chest. You leave him there, mouth open but no words coming from it, and slam your apartment door behind you. There’s a fire in your gut, and you need to remove yourself from the presence of that menace of a man before it begins to spread from under your skin and into the open.

You make a beeline straight for your bedroom. That fire continues to grow through your anger and irritation. How dare he? It’s not a thing you can control, the way your body reacts to the sight of him with those low slung grey sweatpants. The pretty curve of his lips. Those brown eyes. In your mind you can envision him here with you. His arms are stretched up high, wrists strung up to your headboard. He’s moaning at the sight of you with your little bullet vibrator placed firmly to ease your ache. 

Except, the noises you’re hearing are not in your mind at this moment, they’re drifting down that open vent. You bite your lip and press the vibrator harder at the realization. The taste of coppery blood hits your tongue, you can’t let him hear you. He doesn’t deserve it. You listen to him cry out in pleasure, pretty noises that push you right to the edge of your own cliff. A soft whimper is what causes you to stumble. Your release is a flood, and you have to turn your face to let your own cries die in the safety of your pillow.

He’s loud, even when he’s fucking his own fist, and you’re done for. You’re biting your lip so hard, not wanting him to hear you. He doesn’t deserve it. He needs to earn it. Your teeth clamped so hard you taste blood by the time the pleasure is done rippling through your body. He’s still moaning like a bitch, and you fall asleep to the sound, only waking when your watch alerts you that it’s time to switch your laundry.

The washroom light is on, and your laundry is already tumbling in the dryer. Your sweaters, bras, and underwear are spread along the table in the corner to air dry. There’s a note sitting on the dryer 1A written on the outside.

I hope this makes your life easier, 

Your cocky little whore,

Eddie

You close your eyes and imagine him holding your delicates in his hands, gently placing them flat to dry. This is bad, very bad.

—

Makeup first. Black eyeliner thick around your eyes, Mary always says it’s too much. She once introduced you as “her roommate that wears too much black eyeliner”,  but it makes you feel so sexy. A red lip. You fish around your jewelry box to find your favorite choker and the cute bat earrings that were a gift from an ex-boyfriend. It’s been too long since you were able to dress this way - the way you like. Sheer black pantyhose, black boots, black mini skirt, and a red deep v sweater.

You’re going out, even if Mary stays in with Mr. Green Eyes and Mr. Grey Sweatpants - Eddie.

You’ll find someone tonight, maybe you’ll even bring them back here. It’s fun to imagine Eddie in his bed listening to the sounds of you and someone else. You imagine him reaching a hand under the waistband of his sweats. You think of him with his mouth hanging open while trying to hold back the sounds that you know like to escape while he’s touching himself. You clear your throat and shake the image out of your mind.

It was yesterday evening that you realized the heating vent in your room must lead directly up to his own room. It’s the only explanation for how clearly you can hear him. You could make him jealous if you really wanted. Jealous of you or your hypothetical partner. Man, woman…it doesn’t matter, and he wasn’t the only one that knew how to make a woman scream, although you prefer when they listen and keep quiet. It’s rude to be too loud when you live in an apartment building. You dick.

You make a detour to 2A to give Mary a chance to come with you before you head downtown. The guy that answers the door is a little taller than Eddie and very pretty. He’s wearing a polo shirt and tight jeans, his hair is so stupidly gorgeous. His eyes bug out a bit when he sees you at his door but recovers with a friendly smile. “Hey, I’m your neighbor in 1A, I was looking for- oh there she is.”

Mary is sitting on the couch with a beer in her hand, and she gives you a wave. “I’m so sorry, I lost track of time. Don’t be mad!” You shake your head and point your finger at your roommate. “You owe me. I take it I’m flying solo tonight?” Her eyes are squinting and she’s giving you a pained smile.

“I would say you could stay and hang out with us, but you look like you’re ready for more of a party than I can offer.” The guy, Stevie, you remember Eddie calling him that, is giving you a genuine smile. You’re returning it with ease, because he really does seem like a nice guy. “Yeah, next time? Have fun you two.” You’re wearing your best smile so they know there’s no hard feelings and head out into the night.

The walk is chilly, but your building is only a half a mile from the bars downtown. It was one of the reasons you were willing to move into the shitty basement apartment. That and the easy access to the laundry room. Your purse has the essentials. Wallet, mace, lipstick, condoms, collapsible baton, and camels. Your keys sit on your hip attached to your wallet chain. You know there would be at least a couple of bars that had bands playing tonight. Musicians are reliably horny, even though most of the time you end up regretting letting them into your bed. 

The bright lights in the first bar, along with the house music, are an absolute no for you. You walk in, look around the room, and immediately head back out. The next bar has pool tables lined up in the back room. Lots of dudes turn to look at you when you enter, and you grip the handle of your purse. Leers sweeping from your hair to your boots. You smoothly turn and leave before anyone can talk to you. Bar number 3, however, is smokey and you can hear someone performing a mic check. A mix of leather clad men, women, and everything in between. The bartender has a flannel tied around her waist and an undercut. Winner.

“Hey sweetie, what can I get for you.” The bartender is very pretty up close, and openly scanning your chest. You’re giving her a wolfish grin and looking up to the ceiling with a finger on your lips, as if thinking hard.

“Oh, I think I’d like a double Jameson straight up.” You blink your eyes at her and she’s laughing at your antics while she gets your drink. “What can you tell me about the band tonight?”

“Metal. The guys play here pretty often. Corroded Coffin. The crowd is pretty fun, even if you’re not into the music.” Definitely not your typical scene, but you like this place, and you’re willing to let the music work magic on the crowd.

You’re reaching into your wallet for a card to hand over to start a tab. You’re thinking about suggesting the bartender keep you in mind at the end of the night, you’re sure she’d be up for passing some time with you, when you feel a familiar presence at your side.

“Jeannie, how are you tonight?” A hand is on your own, halting its movement. You know this voice. Are you kidding me? “Whatever this pretty lady wants is on our tab tonight, ok?” Jeannie’s eyebrows are high enough that they’re almost lost in her microbangs. She looks to you for confirmation, and you shake your head.

“She’s saying no, Ed.” Jeannie shrugs a little and accepts your card. “Shocking, I know.” She’s laughing at him a little, and you’re loving it. His eyes finally find your own, and he’s frowning. Sad puppy eyes. They sparkle. An effective weapon.

“Come on, you gotta give me something here. You’re killing me.”  Eddie sounds genuinely pained. Butterflies beat their wings in your gut at the thought of disappointing him. 

“Oh, Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m paying for myself tonight.” You place your hand on his neck and pull him close to your face while his eyes stay on your cherry red lips. “Think I might have a shot with Jeannie tonight?” 

His mouth lets out a little noise that you’d swear was a whimper. It’s then that the music changes from the metal that’s been blaring over the speakers to Peaches. Fuck the Pain Away. Jeannie is laughing behind the counter, she must have put the song on while you and Eddie were sparring. 

Eddie is glaring at you with eyes that are not shiny and sweet - they’re black pools. The grin creeping on his lips is sinister. He leans into your ear to make sure you can hear what he’s got to say over the thumping music. “Do me a favor, yeah? Bring Jeannie out on the dance floor when she’s on her break. I want to see you move.”

He’s gone now, and you knock back your drink. Of course, he’s heading to the stage just as Peaches is chanting for the crowd to fuck the pain away, and Jeannie is refilling your glass. “This one’s on me, Sugar. I like watching someone put Eddie in his place.” Yeah, well he just did a good job of keeping me sitting firmly on this stool, you don’t say. You can feel heat in your chest that’s creeping up your neck, a mix of embarrassment and lust hot on your skin.

And it’s no surprise to you that he is sex on fire on the stage. You fully understand it now. You see the fuller picture of him while he’s at center stage, everything else fades to black. All of the girls that he brings into his bed. His leather jacket is tossed to the side and he’s wearing a crop top sleeveless shirt. His fingers move on his guitar, a fucking Warlock, and your eyes are glued to him. When he starts to sing, you feel like you can’t breathe. You’re warm all over, and it’s not because of the crowd. No, it’s because he’s watching you watch him. You can’t stop yourself. It’s like you two are the only ones in this crowded bar, and he’s hypnotizing you.

You have no idea how long it’s been when Jeannie is coming around the bar to tell you her break is starting. You grab her hand and drag her to the floor. It’s in between songs, and you see Eddie yell back to the rest of the band. The next song is a major departure from the rest of the band’s set, and you know it’s for you, so you make it count. The guitar riff starts, and you circle around Jeannie eyes on Eddie. The drums start and you’re moving your hips to the rhythm. The crowd is moving as one and the energy is palpable. Jeannie is laughing, you made sure to whisper to her about the show you’re putting on for Eddie. You both dance together, your hands never leaving the bartender once during Thunderstruck. When the song ends, you see Eddie adjust his (very tight) jeans, and you leave the floor, dragging Jeannie out the back door and into the alley.

[jaysng]

🫐 - jake! maybe about reader having some hardships during her pregnancy but baby daddy jake would be ready to do anything for her comfort !!

rejecting his kisses | sjy

pairing: husband!jake x wife!reader

genre: fluff bro what else i write 😭😭

synopsis: reader is growing sensitive day by day to touches and snaps at jake, jake being a mature husband handles the situation well.

everything felt so much more overwhelming, jake kept a family dinner and everyone was over, his members and his family. 

“how are my babies doing?” jake said as he nuzzled his nose in your neck as you moved back in annoyance. 

oh he noticed it but shrugged it off, maybe it was just a silly reaction right?

the sound of everyone talking at the same time in their own conversation rings around in your ears making it hard for you to keep up with everything jake had his hands on you the whole day, hugging you from behind, talking to his friends and family with a hand on your bump, rubbing your nose agaisnt his, kissing your cheeks, lips and forehead. yeah sounds cute but not when you’re feeling everything a little too much. 

what is going on. 

it was so bad that you had to shut your room door so loud and settle on the bed, 

there you were, pregnant and finally on your thrid trimester with your annoying husband being extra touchy anywhere he could find you at.

rubbing your temples you sat on the bed, grabbed the water from the beside table and starting chugging it down. 

meanwhile, jake who already spotted your absensce in the living room came in “bub?” you heard his voice and your brain gave a reaction not again. 

he walks in as you don’t even dare to look at him in the eye, your eyes closed as you take deep breath. 

“did i do something” he leans over to your face while staring deep “no..” u say as he hums in question he sits beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder “are you oka-“ you cut him off,

“no- just no- please okay? please just get your hands off of me please jake. stay away from me i am not feeling all your touches just leave me the fuck alone.” you say raising your voice. 

the next thing you see is tears in jake’s eyes as he looks away from you trying to hold them in. 

“i am sorry.” 

a moment of complete silence goes by as you rest your head on the headboard.

you notice him avoiding your looks and turning to the other side, hesitant to ask you if you need anything again.

“did i do something wrong?” he asks out of curiosity “i won’t touch you if—“

“no i dont know.. i am sorry i dont feel like getting touched i dont know.. i don’t know why i am being like this i don’t know” as you’re saying he turns around and comes closer to you.

attentively listening as he brings a hand to tug your hair strand back.

“hey no no it’s fine, its completely fine yeah, this is super normal for pregnant women to feel..” he says as tears start spilling from your eyes because of how understanding he is. 

jake has always put your perspective before his, always understanding everything you did, always finding a reason for your actions and letting you express yourself, god you think what did you do to deserve him. 

“b-but jake” you say as he holds your face in his hands and squishes your cheeks trying to calm you down.

“at this stage you’ve grown more sensitive. to touches to words to noises to everything” he says bringing his hands back to himself, “isn’t it?” 

you nod in agreement as he adds “so don’t ever blame yourself about all this okay? i love you just how it is. nothing will ever change that” 

you look at him and take his hand and place it on your belly, he makes sure to keep it exactly where you kept and not rub it because of muscle memory 

he pauses and lets out a little laugh as he feels the baby kicking where his arm is placed “just try not to be as aggressive as you were okay?” you nod once again as he kisses your cheeks wiping your tears off his lips. 

“baby doesn’t like hearing mum and dad argue does it?” he says as he feels another kick to his palm as you both laugh out of surprise. 

it makes you giggle, mood swings are crazy.

[rizzoreads88]

How do you feel about all this anti Cassian stuff coming out? And people saying Rhys wasn't SA UTM! I need SJM to give us the next book stat

Hey anon,

Anyone who’s followed me for any amount of time knows I am not Rhysands biggest fan, do I hate him? No but never have I ever considered myself a Rhysand Stan at any point . But let me be clear when I say what’s coming next…

Rhysand was absolutely SA’d UTM. He is Amaranthas victim.

It is mentioned how Amarantha used SA to punish Rhysand at times.. One example that he explains in Acomaf….

“Amarantha saw that jealousy. She saw me kissing you to hide the evidence, but she saw why. For the first time, she saw why. So that night, after I left you, I had to … service her.”

Even if you hate Rhysands character this doesn’t take away that this alone is absolutely SA. Not to mention all the other things Amarantha has done to him.

Now on to Cassian…

Everyone likes/dislikes different characters but I truly don’t understand this new wave of ultra extreme hatred for Cassian. This man loved Nesta completely and as she was when everyone else stopped reaching out. He kept reaching out his hand. He helped her, was her first true friend, trained her and loved her completely.

Was he always perfect? No (even thought he’s perfect to me🤣) but neither was Nesta. That is the beauty of Nessian. They are flawed but they love each other completely. They have that gut wrenching passionate healing love. Cassian has such a good heart and genuinely tries to help the ones he loves.

Some people try to say Cassian never defended her against Rhysand but there were times he did. Cassian didn’t defend Nesta when he though she was wrong. What people choose to forget is Nesta does not want someone fighting her battles for her. She doesn’t want Cassian speaking for her or defending her if he feels she is wrong. BUT anytime she is in actual danger Cassian absolutely defends and protects her….

*Acomaf- he literally was crawling to her with broken wings while he was bleeding out before she got thrown in the cauldron

*Acowar- He tries to get her train but she doesn’t want to

When he hears her scream during the battle of Hybern he leaves his legion to get to her

He physically fights the king of Hybern to try to protect her and then is willing to die with her

*Acosf- when she has her nightmare he sits by her bed all night to make sure she’s ok

When she’s kidnapped to the blood rite he is willing to break all the laws to go to her

When he is under mind control by braillyn he turns the knife on himself bc he would rather kill himself then hurt nesta…

*Hofas- When Bryce shows up to return the mask cassian is on the defense.. Bryce sees this and thinks to herself he’s a good mate

(These are all just things I can think off the top of my head I’m sure there is more)

I just think there is this new wave of ultra extreme Nesta Stan’s who pick him apart for everything but then act like Nesta never did anything wrong. Nesta is my favorite acotar character but when people act like she’s perfect and never did anything wrong you take away from the beauty of her journey and growth in Acosf.Cassian was in no way abusive to Nesta. Cassian is our consent King. I love him, Nesta and them together whole heartedly. They are one of my fav bookish couples of all time.

I think some people just need to accept that they are endgame. They had their mating ceremony, Nesta calls him her mate in Hofas, they are still together and happy in Hofas. Bryce even notices Cassian is a good mate.

[leonw4nter]

I really like ur fics with Leon as a dad 🤍 can I request one where it’s angst at the start but happy at the end? I think with Leon’s job he’s probably alway moving to new places and his wife is kinda at the point where she just can’t take it and worried for their kid?

My Baby Here On Earth Showed Me What My Heart Was Worth

Husband!RE:Damnation!Leon x F!Reader

“The kids are sleeping now,” you quietly tell your husband as you get into bed with him.

He hums a response, setting aside a copy of William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury as he gets up. To go look at the kids one more time for the night, he says as he walks around the foot of the bed and towards the door. You wait until Leon noiselessly closes the door, his footsteps growing fainter as he grows more distanced from you, to sigh deeply, sitting up to lean against the cold headboard as you bury your face in your hands for a moment. You love Leon and you know that he loves you and your kids too but he’s grown increasingly distant with each passing day after coming home from deployment to the Eastern Slav Republic. You’ve done your best to show that you’re there for him, initiating conversations and even giving him simple compliments but the most he’s done is look in your direction and nod. A hum and a forced smile, if you’re lucky and he’s feeling less bad about himself. He still took care of the kids, driving them to school and playing with them in the afternoons but it’s clear that his mind is far from home. Even the kids could sense just how weary their father is, doing their best to cheer him up by giving him colorful drawings and letters. “Don’t be sad, daddy! Me, Ollie, and mama are here for yuo!” one of them reads, the word ‘you’ misspelled but Leon loved it nonetheless. For a quick moment he genuinely smiled whenever he read the letters and saw the drawings again before the frown took its place in his face again as he put the artwork in a folder and placed it back in the drawer cabinet.

You lifted your head from your hands when Leon walked back in, silent as always as he headed back to his side of the bed. You stared at him, urging him to say something–anything, just to dissolve the wall that he put up around himself but to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t speak. He checks the time on his phone and decides that it’s far too late to continue reading his book and sinks down beneath the covers, muttering a nearly inaudible ‘goodnight’ to you before he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep. Hurt, you scoff at how distant he feels. Physically, he’s home and with you but you know that emotionally and mentally, he’s still on the other side of the world and dealing with Tyrants, Lickers, and corrupt leaders. Turning the lamp off, you sink into the sheets as well and turn to face the wall. You have so much to say, so much to express to him but you’re afraid that this will only push him further from you even more. Worst case scenario, he packs his bags and sleeps in a hotel for a week before coming home plastered. He’s never done that before but you don’t want this rift to widen to the point he even considers doing that, maybe even leave behind the family he has with you for the enigmatic woman in red. Inhaling deeply, you shut your eyes before you speak to him. You don’t even think deeply about what you’re doing before your fears get to you and force you to shut up again.

“I can’t keep doing this, Leon.” You shakily begin. “We can’t keep doing this. I’m here for you, so are the kids, but you’re pushing us all away.”

“I need space.” He responds. Short and curt, straight to the point but you wish he said more.

“What does ‘space’ mean to you, Leon?” you gently ask as you sit up and face him who is still curled up on his side, his face hidden away like a secret. “I just want to know what I can do to support you while also giving you some time alone.”

“Leave me alone. There. That’s the kind of space I want,” he grumbles as he sits up, facing you. You stay silent for a moment, your sympathetic gaze on him but his eyes are elsewhere as he runs a hand through his dark hair, not wanting to see the look on your face.

“Okay. But let’s still talk, okay? Let’s voice out how we feel and communicate, I want to be able to provide you with what you need–”

“Why are you doing this?” Leon interrupts, not out of irritation but rather out of wonder. Your eyes widen for a quick moment before you inch a little near him, hesitant to reach out and place your hand on his hand.

“Because I care for you, Leon, and I don’t want to see you suffer alone. I want to be here for you and share the weight of the world on your shoulders too. You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, I can see it eating away at you.”

He doesn’t stop you when you take his hand, feeling the scars and calluses on them. He quite misses your touch, actually, but he felt like he was throwing himself a pity party whenever he thought about asking you for a hug or a kiss.

“I don’t want to bring home anything from work,” he explains. “I don’t plan on mixing it– work and home life… and I didn’t expect for it to get to this. That I’m pushing you and the kids away. I don’t… I don’t want my family to even think about how the monsters I’ve killed looked like or how I killed them. Something as precious as you three don’t deserve that. Our little ones, most of all.”

Pulling him in for the first hug in nearly two weeks, after two weeks of Leon trying to avoid your physical display of affection, he gives in. He leans his forehead on your shoulder but doesn’t wrap his arms around you and instead, lies limply on his side.

“Oh Leon,” you delicately whisper. Sushing and humming the same tune you used to hum when your toddlers were still tiny babies, you tenderly sway Leon from side to side in order to ease all the anguish he bottled up and refused to share. It doesn’t take long for his tears to wet your shoulder, his large frame shaken with stifled sobs. He went by “Condor One”, “Agent Kennedy”, and many other aliases required by his job but at the end of the day, he is your Leon Scott Kennedy. “Daddy”, as his dear children would call him.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Leon slept in your arms, his head buried in your side with an arm slung around your stomach, for the first time in the longest time. He still shook and spoke in his sleep, flinching at times, but his sleep appeared to be much more restful. It was your turn to be unable to fall asleep now, a hand gently patting Leon’s shoulder blade with a watchful eye observing him. You were tired from the entire day and the crying you did with him hours ago but you couldn’t find it in you to doze off; you thought about your kids’ future and raising them, along with considering the fact that Leon was rarely home for a long time and was always moving to new places for indefinite periods. Each mission brought the fear that this would be the last time you’d see Leon alive, to be talking to you in person and that what would come home to you are two agents holding a folded flag, an urn, and what remained of his gear instead. It would be cruel for Leon, who proudly proclaims that his life has only begun when he met you. Leon, who knew what it meant to truly live when he found out that you were pregnant with his children. You knew that it also hurt Leon to leave at ungodly hours of the night when he was going to be deployed for a mission and to think that his kids would wonder where their daddy is and why he’s always gone. You’re used to Leon’s constant absence but it doesn’t hurt any less each time he has to go. His job is bad for your heart, constantly putting it in a state of worry and fear. It always stung whenever your kids asked if they could go with Leon when he had to leave on an “adventure” because they wanted to spend more time with him. You hated breaking the news to Leon that he’d have to miss out on another one of their school events, having to phone Chris or Patrick to attend in his place; he sounded so pained whenever he asked about the details of the event, his dreams of walking up the stage and being active in his childrens’ schooling playing in his head every time he closed his eyes for a quick nap before being back on his feet and killing monsters. Ultimately, you decided to give the kids a day trip with Leon since their only trip with Leon was when they were still babies. Sighing once more before giving sleep another try, you start to mentally compile all the things needed for tomorrow’s road trip.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“She’s already got a stain on his shirt and the ice cream hasn’t even melted yet,” Leon says with an amused grin as he tries to wipe the chocolate off of Euphemia’s pink shirt with a wet wipe. You’re preoccupied with watching over the other twin Ollie, who’s trying to call a stray cat and give the kitty a lick of his vanilla ice cream. You look back at Leon, who’s giving his daughter kisses as he got the stain to look a lot less dark than it was earlier.

“Pheme still tends to get ice cream everywhere,” you softly tell him as you offer another set of wipes, to which he declines since the stain isn’t obvious and the wipes could be used for later. Leon smiles when he notices you use the nickname he gave to Euphemia; he’s managed to get you to use this one instead of his other loving nickname for Oliver, “Rolliver Polliver”, derived from when Ollie almost ate a roly poly bug.

All of you finish eating ice cream without getting any more stains or a cat being fed something it shouldn’t be fed and get back to the car, hitting the road once more. Queen, Hall & Oates, Elton John, and The Flamingos have been traded for nursery rhymes and songs to induce sleep in toddlers in order to get them to nap a little bit. Instead of Leon sitting in the passenger seat with you, he decided to sit at the back in between the kids in order to spend some time being near them on the road trip. The twins seemed to have gotten their habit of sleeping with their head leaned back and mouth slightly ajar while softly snoring from Leon, who is also asleep with his hands on their child car seat. Caught in a red light, you quietly observe this tender moment in the front and snap a few pictures of them with your digital camera from 1989 that still surprisingly works well. You giggle at the sight behind you, heart melting at seeing your husband and children look so adorable. His jacket is on your lap when you told him that you were feeling a little chilly, insisting that he’s fine in the back without one. Just earlier, he was making funny faces and holding a serious, one-sided conversation with his little ones, making them laugh and giggle at his every word and now they’re all asleep together. If it means having more moments like this, you’re ready to fight the D.S.O. for keeping your husband occupied on the other side of the world. You guess that it’s also moments like these that Leon continues to fight bioterrorism so that other families can safely enjoy moments like this one without worrying about monsters coming to harm their loved ones. Since the red light is still going and you seem to have been caught in a moderate traffic, you take out your video cam and film the soft scene behind you. “Papa and the kiddos are sleeping together, their snoring isn’t in sync so there’s no moment of silence for me but I don’t mind. I love you all so much and momma is very happy right now.”

After nearly four hours of driving, you four finally get to the cliff overlooking the great wide sea. Parking your car to a safe place, you take out the picnic basket and start preparing your spot. You two chose a spot underneath the shade of a thick tuliptree, a cover from the hot sun. The kids have been asking so much about finally being able to play soccer and ‘helicopter’, a game where Pheme and Ollie hang from Leon’s arms as he spins around (the twins have promised to never, ever play ‘helicopter’ again because they got dizzy but they seem to have ‘forgotten’ it this time) and you explained that they can play an hour after having the picnic and when the sun isn’t so hot anymore. Leon agrees and although the twins don’t seem too happy, they don’t appear to mind it that much since they’re eager to help Leon in unloading the car (he gave them the lighter tasks). As soon as the food is set and most of the bugs have been successfully warded off, the twins gather to sit beside you but before everyone can take a bite of the sandwiches, Leon gets up and takes the digital camera and snaps a couple of pictures, even attempting a selfie at one point. Soon, everyone digs into their sandwiches and stuffs their faces full of the snacks you and Leon prepared together in the morning.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After what felt like the nth picture Leon has taken of you and the twins, he finally puts the camera down and puts it back in its case but picks up the video cam instead. The twins groan, urging their dad for more playtime even if they’re drenched in sweat with dirty knees.

“5 minutes,” Leon says as he starts recording. “Papa’s back hurts. Why don’t you ask mama?”

“Mama already played! She can’t carry us and she says she’s also tired! She’s reading now!” Pheme exclaims.

He points the camera towards you, reading a pocketbook in the picnic basket while dabbing your forehead and neck with a towel. He laughs and calls you, causing you to look up from the book you were engrossed with and blow him a kiss. He laughs one more time, ‘catching’ the kiss and placing it inside his shorts pocket which gets a giggle out of you.

“My beautiful wife is uhh sitting there, she’s reading.” He narrates as he zooms in. “Very beautiful, the sunlight is hitting her just right. Gosh, she makes me nervous and she doesn’t even know. Love her very much.”

He zooms out and zooms into his children, who decide to take interest in the rocks and starts flinging them towards the cliff with the intention to try to fling it to the ocean, which is quite far from where they are.

“Hey kiddos,” he says as he walks up to them and pats them with his free hand. “What’re you doin’?”

“We’re trying to throw rocks into the ocean!” Ollie and Pheme cheerfully explain, showing their rocks to the lens before flinging it with all their tiny might.

“Ooh, that’s quite far honey,” Leon comments. “Want me to try?”

The twins cheer and he takes that as an opportunity to throw one, the recording being temporarily shaky.

“Woah! You threw it far, papa!” The twins say and clap, determined to throw it as far as he did. He helps the twins throw it, focused on teaching them how to aim and the force they need to exert to fling it a little farther.

After several minutes of flinging rocks and random conversations with your husband and your kids, you call them over to look at the pictures Leon has taken. Everyone gathers around you as you look at each one, oohing and aahing at Leon’s photography skills. Leon focuses the cam on the pictures popping up in the digital camera, chipping in with his thoughts.

“Mommy looks amazing there,” he breathily says. “Divine. What’d you think, Pheme?”

“So pretty!” She beams before giving you a big kiss on the cheek. Ollie giggles and snuggles closer to you, occasionally pointing to the pictures.

Like you guessed, most of the pictures are of you, the kids, or both. Observant like their dad, they picked up on this as well.

“Pa, you’re not in a lot of the photos! It’s always us or mama!”

Leon chuckled, ruffling his kids’ heads. He extends a pointer finger to a shadow in the image before you switch to another one, pointing to the tall shadow once again.

“That’s me,” Leon explains. “I’m the shadow.”

His twins seem confused, falling into silence along with you, who is also intrigued by Leon’s words.

“When you look at these pictures when you’re bigger, I want you all to know that I’m always here. These are proofs that I’m with you because I’m the shadow and I’ll always look out for all three of you,” he explains

The twins say ‘aww’ at the same time and tackle his legs, hugging him tight. While you set the camera down and look at Leon with a small pout and slightly glossy eyes. Leon chuckles softly and places a free hand on your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before you join your twins in giving him a big bear hug as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, Leon.” You softly tell him, warm breath fanning against his neck.

“Me too, sweetheart. I love you more.” He tenderly responds as he hugs you and the kids back.

He’s thankful that this tender moment is caught on camera so he can rewatch it several more times before he goes to bed.

NOTE - I hope you liked this fic anon!!! At first, I wasn't super confident about writing this or how it'll turn out but I think it turned out nicely ngl :) YALL. I finally got my driver's license. I can drive. Do I know how to? I know the theoretical aspects of it but driving itself? Running a motor vehicle? I have yet to learn (it's on June 20-21 and my dad will teach me until I get better)... I also scarfed down a big spicy bowl of ramen coz I didn't have breakfast this morning <3 Also, It's not rlly embarrassing for me to be writing fics while my parents r sitting at the back (I'm at my living room) but making the border??? Looking for pics of Leon??? It's embarassing for me 😭😭 My dad said that my Chris capcorom looks like a Bánh bò and ngl I kinda see it 😭😭 There's a Japanese mall where I live and I'll be going there tomorrow so hopefully yk there's a copy of any RE book or manga (PLEASEPLEASEPLE) Anyways, that's it and thank you for readings my fics!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The wavy divider was made by @kaitsawamura , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[fawnsflowerbed]

MDNI!!! AGAIN!!!!

Umm I'm thinking about Vendetta Leon with his puppy/bunny hybrid for this one but it could also just be a regular ol’ AFAB fem reader and YES, IT IS ANOTHER ASMR PORN THING because I can't get it out of my head leave me alone...

UHH CONTENT WARNING FOR ESTABLISHED CONSENSUAL SLEEP-PLAY!!!! This audio specifically from Whorosethinks (love him) gives me SUCH vibes like

Imagining it’s a lazy Sunday morning, and Leon's body is instinctively waking him up early since he's so used to doing it for his old assignments. But then he settles in and realises oh yeah shit it's still the weekend, so he chills out, tossing over only to see you. Oh, you. All soft snores and little twitching nose, your tail wiggling ever so slightly. He loves you so dearly, cherishes you, kisses the ground you walk on for Christ's sake. Railing that perfect pussy is just an added bonus.

But fuck, the position you've decided to flop into. Half on your tummy, one leg tossed over so your pert ass is up and those thighs are parted. It's not Leon's fault that he's got morning wood, it's not Leon's fault that you're dressed in nothing but one of his t-shirts and some skimpy underwear so from this angle has the perfect view of your cunt soaking through the thin fabric. He swallows hard. He might also be a little hungover, that's definitely not helping.

You've already talked this out together, and you'd made it clear in the past that if you wanted dear old owner to bury himself in your cunt even if you're asleep you'll wear a specific colour of panties. So, of course, he gets a closer look through the haze of the early morning.

There it is. Navy blue. Just like his work shirt. All pretty and lacy. He has free rein.

So of course he takes a thick finger to slide the frills to the side, slick coating the digit as he gently handles you. Of course he splays a careful hand over your back as he fumbles to lazily pull down his sweatpants, bare chest heaving as he stares at your twitching hole like he's been fucking hypnotised. He's slow, easing his rock hard dick into you inch by inch, watching that adorable nose wrinkle at the feeling of being stretched and filled by your beloved owner's cock. And god you feel so good, hot and wet, he has to take a second to collect himself.

Shaky hands stabilised on each side of your head, it doesn't take him too long to start gently fucking into you with long, slow strokes, stoking the ache in his guts with every push and pull through the velvet of your heat. He furrows his eyebrows, groaning deep from his chest, losing himself in you to the point of readjustment. He settles you fully onto your stomach, elbows bracketting you and chest to your back, cuddlefucking your sleeping form into the mattress with every clench and twitch of your insides. It should be illegal for someone's pussy to be this good, right? But he loves you, so he tries to be soft, even if he does slowly ramp up a little quicker, a little harder, a little deeper, you've got him panting like he's run a marathon.

So when you stir in your sleep, nose twitching and tail wiggling, giving that broken sleepy whimper of "Daddy?" that he loves so much all Leon can do is shush you. Leaning forward to nudge his face nice and close to your ear, whispering soothingly. "Shh, stay still baby. Daddy just needs to use his pet's perfect cunt." And ever the loyal and loving thing you are you obey with a squeaky whimper, melting into the pillows beneath him. Oh, he adores you. So compliant.

He's groaning, bordering on whiny at the way you simply let him use you, watching you adorably paw at the headboard. Every sweet tired mewl and gasp of yours against the frilled trim of the pillows. You're everything to him, taking him to the hilt, balls deep, even as he gently pins your arms behind your back so he can pronebone you good and deep into the duvet. Even as he picks up the pace, dragging his cock over every ridge of your pussy. The feeling of your hole sucking down on him like you're trying to rip his dick clean off is driving his brain to insanity, making him go dizzy. But watching your eyes flutter shut and tail wag and twitch as he dicks you down good and deep is probably the best thing in the world.

Well, a close second.

The best thing is definitely getting to creampie your cunt, watching you go rigid with perked ears and a high pitched, broken moan from your throat, how you fall to a slack pile of syrupy love stuffed full of his cum, that's definitely in first place.

And then there's the question of where this lies; what he's doing right now, peppering soft kisses across your cheeks, rubbing stubble against your face as he tugs your panties back into place. Cuddling you close with soothing words and soft back rubs until you both pass back out for another hour or so.

Eh. That sits somewhere between first and second. He's just a man, after all.

[sukunas-wife]

hello 👋 I absolutely love your writing and it makes me soft 💗 can I ask for something soft with baby yuji who won't stop crying until dad sukuna comes home and bc reader left him with babysitter 🥹 anyway idk if u take anons but if u do can I be 🩵

🥹 Yuji’s the kinda kid who looks up to his dad no matter what, there is no wrong in his eyes. so I can see a confused Sukuna threatening a baby sitter because his son is crying and not running to him screaming daddy! 😭

The palace was quiet aside from the fact Yuji was crying hysterically, his eyebrows furrowed and snot running down his nose. The babysitter was holding his kicking figure trying to get him to calm down. He was thrown halfway over his shoulder still reaching out for his mother who had left not too long ago. The babysitter finally relented, kneeling and setting Yuji down. “Hey buddy, I know you don’t spend a lot of time away from your parents but you’re gonna be okay we can play your favourite game. We can do anything you want.”

Yuji stood there fidgeting his hands, teary eyed as his bottom lip shook firm trying to hold back cries. “Cmon bud tell me what you want?” He held Yuji at arms length, looking hopeful now that the boy wasn’t screaming in his ear. “I wan..” his voice shaky “I WANT DADDY” he threw himself on the floor crying louder when he hit his head. The babysitter sighed, picking up Yuji and carrying him to the table, “Let’s get you something to eat, your mom left in such a rush I don’t know if you ate.”

Yuji sniffled, still teary eyed, when his babysitter left him alone at the table to run and get a quick snack. A mistake on his part, Yuji looked around before turning around and sliding off his chair. “‘M leaving.” Yuji ran to his room trying to hide under his bed when he heard his babysitter calling his name, and running around looking for him. “Hey bud! Yuji! Prince!?” He ran into the room stopping in front of his hiding spot, “Prince Yuji, your mom AND Dad gonna kill me if I lose you please!” His pleas were in vain when Yuji buckled down and refused to make a sound or come out. He was glaring at his babysitter’s feet, before he turned around and rushed out the room “where are ya kid?!”

As soon as the babysitter closed the door Yuji rushed out and to the tapestry on the wall wiggling to get behind it, “he won’t go to daddy’s room.” Just before he could jump to reach the door he felt something grab him and he screamed before busting out into tears. “DADDY HELP!” Flailing around while “Ryosuke” his babysitter tried to carry him back to the table, “Cmon Yuji! Ya gotta eat or at least work with me buddy.” He sat Yuji down at the table only for Yuji to look straight down with an angry pout, “Nu.”

“Please?” “Mm mm” He shook his head back and forth. “Please Prince Yuji?” “No!” He turned his back to Ryo trying to slip off the chair again only for Ryo to pull him back, “Can’t leave til we talk this out just tell me what I can do please?” Ryo was borderline begging only for Yuji to side eye him over his shoulder, with teary eyes “Hide and seek.” Ryo sighed “alright one game, but I’m hiding, you’d probably run out the house.”

Yuji just stared at Ryo with dry tears in his eyes, “…okay..” Yuji put his head down on the table counting, listening to Ryo walking away and out of the room. As soon as he was gone Yuji ran out the other side of the dining room and ran straight for your room, “he can’t catch me,” his little legs making it to his parents room he tried to quietly close the door before running to the bed clinging to the blanket trying to climb up. “Tora” Yuji grunted, finally climbing onto the bed where he snatched his stuffed tiger, hugging it. Everything was quiet, Yuji sat there with his back against the headboard. Bringing his knees up he hugged his plushie, before the tears started to quietly fall, “want my daddy..” he flopped over onto your pillow, the tears slowly falling while he looked out your room’s window. The sky was blue, the tree branches outside were big and green, the birds that used to sing in the morning and coo at night were gone… he was alone. He closed his eyes blindly reaching for the blanket to cover himself, there was a tight feeling in his little chest and he sniffled crying himself to sleep.

Yuji woke up hot, his face and body sweating. Tora was on the floor. His hair sticking to his forehead and he started to tear up until he heard a loud banging and screaming. “LORD SUKUNA! IM SORRY IM SO SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME I'VE BEEN LOOKING ALL DAY HE SAID HE THE YOUNG PRINCE! He said he wanted to play Hide and seek!- You fool you humans are useless pathetic excuses of flesh If I find my son and he’s hurt in any way IT. WILL. BE. YOUR. LIFE.” A loud thud, “URAUME don’t let him leave.” It sounded like Sukuna was snarling, “YUJI.” “Daddy!”

Yuji rushed, falling off the bed and jumping back up with Tora in one hand. He rushed to the door jumping to catch the knob. “YUJI” Sukuna’s voice was loud and clear through the heavy wooden door, “where the hell is MY SON.” Yuji could hear the loud banging and shocked gasps of the maids. Finally managing to get the door open he squeezed through “Daaaad!” Yuji stood in front of the door, red faced and happy to see his dad. Sukuna’s head snapped to look at his son, relief visibly washed over him. “Where wer- daaaaaad” Yuji started to cry for his dad, eyes closing when he rubbed his free hand against his eyes. Sukuna was shocked as he knelt down and called his son in a softer voice, “Come here Yuji.” Yuji sniffled and ran to his dad standing between his legs burying his face in his stomach trying to hug him the best his short chubby arms would. Sukuna’s stare softened as he ran a hand up and down Yuji’s back the boy’s cries and shaky breaths getting quieter the longer he was in his dads embrace. Picking him up as he stood, Yuji let his head fall on his dads shoulder hugging his tiger to his chest, his breathing was wheezy after crying himself sick. “What did this idiot do to you?” Sukuna turned to walk towards the babysitter who was kneeling rigid on the floor of the throne room. “…nothing..” was all Yuji mumbled when he saw the poor guy. “He didn’t hit you? Scare you? Make you cry?” Sukuna was staring down at his son. “No but he was annoying.” Yuji said, looking up at his dad. “Did you eat?” On que Yuji’s stomach grumbled, “no..” “He didn't feed you?” “I ran and hid..”

“Uraume,” Sukuna was staring the man down, Uraume left quickly “Yes Lord Sukuna.”

“You,” Ryo’s eyes quickly flicked up and down, not wanting to face Lord Sukuna, King of Curses for too long, “I’m feeling merciful.. Get out, and never come back by the time my son counts to five and I’ll let you live.”

“One… two…” Ryo struggled to get up, having already taken one hit from Sukuna, “uhh… three!” Ryo was managing to get out of the throne room to the door “Four… ehh ff..sss” Sukuna looked at his son confused, “six!” Yuji bounced, smiling up at his dad who was staring in disbelief. “Oh.. five!” The door closed by the time Yuji said five, “Really saved that guy huh?” Yuji hugged his dads neck “m hungry..”

“Let’s go, Uraume should be fixing something up, I’ll have to talk to your mother about those Damn babysitters too.” Yuji just smiled up at his dad, “You’re so strong daddy.”

Tysm for ask 🩵

@sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Sometimes, I wish I was as important as your email inbox - John Price x reader

Warnings/tags: Hurt comfort, could be considered angst. Miscommunication(?) established relationship, fem!reader. This was supposed to be pwp... then it turned in to this unholy abomination of hurt comfort because I have daddy issues and can’t fucking do this.

In which, Price has been a bit extra busy with work, and reader feels a bit… alone.

You open the door and step out of the bathroom, tugging your towel tighter around yourself as the steamy warmth from your shower mixes with the relatively cold air of the bedroom.

Price is sitting on your bed, leaning against the headboard with his legs stretched out and phone in hand as he scrolls through the device- likely for something work related. When he sees you step out of the bathroom, his eyes flit towards you and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. 

You hadn’t expected him to be home yet. For the past week, he’d been leaving early and getting back late. Usually, he left early enough that it was still dark outside, and that the only goodbye you’d get was a gentle nudge to wake you up and a kiss on the forehead- followed by a goodbye and a reassurance he’d be back before you knew it. You knew he had to go, it was some week-long training he was helping to administer- but that didn’t help to soothe the loneliness that came with an empty house and waking up to a cold spot where your husband usually lay. 

Most of the time, it was dark again by the time he got back. And he was too exhausted to do much more than shower, collapse into bed next to you, and mumble a few “love you’s” before tugging you against his chest and using you as a body pillow for the night.

Tonight though, he was home earlier than usual.

Not by much- it was still late, and had you been given another thirty minutes, you’d probably have been curled up in bed and- judging by how exhausted you felt- probably completely passed out. And of course- though he may be home earlier than expected… he wasn’t really free. The texts, emails, and paperwork were what most commonly followed him home from work- and it was stupid to be jealous of paperwork or goddamn Gmail. You knew that. You told yourself that constantly. You also constantly reminded yourself that you chose this, you knew what you were getting into with this man. But that didn’t help how starved you’d become for his touch and affection. And it certainly didn't help the nights where you would fall asleep next to your Price, yet feel more alone than ever- because there was something heartbreaking about falling asleep feeling cold, lonely, and unwanted, with the man you loved right next to you- but too busy with what felt like constant work.

Although… As much as you hated those nights, it was still better than when Price would come back with new injuries and guilt weighing heavy on his shoulder.

Today had been a bit of a rough day for you. Tiering, to say the least… especially now, as you realized tonight was shaping up to be one of the ones that hurt the most. And despite the guilt you felt at not even attempting conversation with Price after nearly a week of only goodbyes and goodnights, you really wanted nothing more than to put on your comfiest pajamas and curl up for sleep. 

You missed him dearly, but you were too emotionally and mentally drained to figure out what to do about it. Frankly, this was the only thing your exhausted self could think to do: go to sleep and hope that the rest of this (particularly) dreadful week passes quickly.

As exhausted as you may be… you also know that Price is probably about to stand up to take a shower of his own now that you’re out, and that by the time he’s done, you’ll probably be asleep- so you stifle a yawn and pad over to Price.

Once at Price’s side of the bed, you lean over to press a kiss to his forehead- a hand held over your chest to keep your towel from falling down when you do so. “Goodnight.” You mumble, stumbling a bit when you get a head rush as you try to stand back up.

When you start to sway, Price frowns and reaches out, placing a steadying hand on your upper hip. “You alright’, Love?” He asks, forehead knitted in worry.

You nod, ducking your head a bit and pressing a hand against your temple as you wait for the momentary dizziness to pass. “I’m fine, just stood up too fast.” You murmur, silent for a moment as you take a deep breath and start to straighten up.

From where you stand, you can see that Price’s phone is, in fact, open to his email inbox- and you can’t help the frown that accompanies the pang of dejection that shoots through your chest.

“You sure?” Price asks, his concern seemingly only growing as he speaks. “You look a bit off-color.”

You nod your head “yes”, trying your best to simply put Price’s worries to rest. You do know that you should talk to him, that you should take this opportunity to tell him how you feel, that you should stop this spiral you're in. But… you’re tired. Tired physically, tired mentally, tired emotionally- You’re just fucking tired, and everything feels like it’s all going shit. 

The hand on your hip moves upwards, and a strong arm wraps around your waist and gently tugs you down. You land with a bit of a bounce onto Price’s lap- his arm around your waist bracing you and keeping you upright as his other one comes up to press the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Bloody hell, you’re burning up.” Price says, the worry lines on his forehead deepening as he quickly drops his phone. “You sure you’re feeling alright?” He asks again, clearly not believing your early assertion of “fine”.

“‘Not sick, just took a hot shower.” You mumble, leaning into his hand where it still rests on your forehead- letting out a deep breath at the touch and letting your heavy eyes drift shut.

Price is clearly unconvinced- looking just as worried as before as he moves one hand to your upper back and the other to the nape of your neck- pulling you close and lifting your hair out of his way so he can check once again for a temperature.

The hand against your forehead must've broken something in you, because from that moment on you feel like a damn had burst. Like all the effort you’d been putting into hiding how bad you’ve needed this is violently swept away and forgotten. Even when you loop your arms around his neck and pull yourself against him, you’re not close enough. No matter how much of you is touching him, you need more. No matter how much you press your face into his chest or the crook of his neck, you can still see the lights from the bedside lamp, smell the soap you used in the shower, and hear the neighbor's dog barking at god knows what. And that’s wrong- because all you want in this moment is Price. You want to be held impossibly close to him, you want your everything to be only him, just for a moment.

You don’t hear what he says, but you feel him take you by the shoulders and gently to get you to look up at him.

In response, you only whine and squeeze him tighter, pressing your face deeper into his neck and shaking your head no. 

He gets the hint- a deep sigh leaving his body as you feel him relaxing beneath you. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head and you feel two large, warm, calloused hands slip under your thighs and lift- moving you so you’re straddling his thighs.

“Comfortable, Love?” He asks- to which you nod, goosebumps rising along your body as the air from the fan, even on its lowest setting, feels frigid against your still slightly damp skin- your towel from a moment ago having fallen as Price moved you. A hand runs along your arm, warming the skin slightly as you feel Price shift underneath you in preparation to stand up. 

“Do you want me to get you some clothes?” He asks- to which you, again, shake your head in response. This time, side to side as a “no”.

Price chuckles, the vibrations of his laugh traveling between you as he sets a hand on his nightstand, using it to support himself as lifts you two and yanks the covers out from where he had been sitting on them- settling back down and pulling them up to cover the two of you.

The comforter on you two’s bed is big and fluffy- perfect at trapping body heat and warming you up quickly. It’s probably your favorite blanket in the whole house, and you’ve been known to drag it out of the bed and curl up with it on the couch whenever you’re sick or it’s cold enough outside that the heater can’t keep up. Being wrapped in it is enough for you to- gradually- begin to loosen your hold on Price. Eventually, you’re not so much clinging to him as much as you’re simply draped over him.

But even when you release your death grip, Price doesn't try to get you up. He lets you stay, keeping you pressed close against his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. He keeps one hand under the blanket, resting on your lower back- occasionally stroking at the soft skin with the pad of his thumb or idly tracing the dips and rises of your body as you drifted in and out of sleep. In his other hand, he held his phone. Likely going through emails or doing something or other work related. 

You drifted between varying levels of sleep and awakeness as he held you. Whenever your head would start to slip from where he’d propped it up against his shoulder, he’d pause from his work to gently set it back and make sure you were doing okay. He’d often press sweet, loving kisses to the top of your head, cheek, or temple, or give gentle, protective squeezes to your waist whenever he felt you stir awake, and he’d speak soothingly and stroke your hair whenever you started mumbling half-asleep words to yourself or him. 

At one point, you started drifting deeper and deeper to sleep- waking up less and having fewer moments of half-awake confusion after being moved or repositioned- only to later wake up flat on your back - now dressed in some pajamas- and with Price slowly pulling away from you.

You jerk awake, gasping for breath as you immediately latch onto the part of Price that’s closest to you- which turns out to be an arm. You immediately find him back at your side, tears running down your face as you beg for him to stay.

You have his right arm in a white-knuckled grip, and his other one is behind your back, holding you up as he looks down at you- the most worried you’ve ever seen him. 

“Shh, you’re okay- I’m right here.” Price says, his look of concern only worsening as you let go of his arm in favor of clinging to his torso.

“D-Don’t go!” You sob, the burst of adrenaline from waking up and thinking he was leaving flushing through your body and leaving you shaky and with a pounding heart.

“I’m not going to leave, Love.” he reassures you, one of his hands petting your head, his beard scratching at your cheek as he holds you close in an attempt to comfort you. “But you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

You don’t respond, hiding your face against him.

He pulls away, cupping your cheek gently and making you look at him. “Sweetheart, I’m worried. You wouldn’t talk at all once you got in my lap, and you freaked out when I tried to set you down. I need you to talk to me.”

You pull your face away, going back to hiding against his chest… but eventually nod.

Price is silent for a moment- thinking before he speaks again

“Did someone hurt you?”

A quick shake of your head “no” and a heavy sigh of relief from Price.

“Is it something that happened at work?”

Another shake of your head “no”.

“Is it something that I did?”

You hesitate… 

Your lack of answer tells Price enough, and a kiss is pressed to the top of your head. Had you moved your face from where you were hiding it, you would have seen not only the look of absolute love he was looking down at you with, but the thinly veiled guilt he held as he watched the way you clung to him.

“I figured, love.”

You hiccup, choking on your own tears as you do and starting to cough. Price rubs soothing circles into your back as you try to catch your breath.

“I know, I know. This training thing is hard, and I should've done better at making sure my girl was okay. I’m sorry, love.”

“Y-you don’t have anything to be sorry f-”

Price cuts you off with a stern look. 

“None of that, now. I should’ve made more of an effort to be there for you.” He pauses, kissing you sweetly before continuing. “I love you so, so much, and I’m so sorry I let you forget that and that I let things get to this point, okay?”

“I love you too- “ You say softly, sniffling and trying to wipe away some of your tears- only for Price to come in with a tissue and gently start to blot at your red and blotchy face.

“I’m sorry for not talking to you about it…” You mumble, your face heating up as you try to take the tissue from Price to dry your own face, but failing to do anything more than get him to laugh a bit and start teasing you by keeping the tissue away.

“Tomorrow is the last day of the training, I’m going to take the day after off, and we’re going to do something, okay?” He says, laughing softly before letting you have the tissue and kissing you on the cheek.

Price’s hand finds yours, and he laces you two’s fingers together before pulling your still interlocked hands up and pressing a kiss to the back of yours. 

“And I’m not just sorry about this week, I’m sorry about recently in general. I’m going to be better about making sure I make time and showing you how much I care for you, okay?”

You nod, giving one final wipe to your face before you started squirming in his hold in an attempt to sit up a bit more.

“I’m going to be better too- I’m not going to bottle things up… and I’m going to try harder to tell you when I’m feeling like something’s wrong instead of letting it get like this…”

Pride tugs Price’s smile wider, and he brushes a strand of hair out of your face- tucking it behind your ear before pressing yet another kiss to your face.

“Thank you, Sweetheart. I’m glad.”

You smile, feeling like a weight has been lifted after your cry and conversation with Price. You wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him as tight as you possibly can in an attempt to convey how thankful you are. Of his patience, of his kindness, of him.

“I love you,” You say into his chest as you squeeze him

He lets out a soft “oof” at your squeeze, huffing in amusement before wrapping his own arms around you and giving you a (far from full strength) squeeze of his own.

“I love you too.”

[tinylilacbun]

i have a request! daddy!rafe comforting little!reader from a nightmare, little!reader dont want to sleep alone so rafe take her to his bed and turn the tv on because the background sound of the tv is comforting to her!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

It's rare that you sleep in your playroom, preferring to being cuddled to sleep but today was one of those rare days where you want to prove Rafe that you're a big girl.

Everything went smoothly, you cleaned your room, took your bath, and later Rafe came to tuck you into bed and gave you your goodnight kiss.

It would have gone well if it weren't for a stupid nightmare to ruin it all.

Your eyes snap open, a small gasp leaving your lips. Sitting up in your bed you clutch your lamb to your chest with tears already building up in your eyes and falling down your cheeks.

You start to full on sob while calling out for your daddy and the fact that it was completely dark doesn't help your nerves.

Your breathing quickens, jumping a little when Rafe comes in rushing through the door, the light from the hallway illuminating his figure. He breathes out in relief when he realizes you're not in danger and walks over to your bed, turning on your cloud light that hung over your headboard before sitting down.

"What's wrong?" He asks, reaching a hand out to wipe your tears away.

Instead of answering you just crawled onto his lap, holding onto his shirt tightly and sob into his chest. He wraps an arm around the small of your back, with the other he rubs up and down your back soothingly.

"I'm here now. Shh, you're okay." He murmurs into your hair, kissing your head. "Nightmare?"

You only nod, now wrapping your arms around his neck hiding your face there, crying quietly.

Rafe stays with you in this position for a while until your sobs turn into small sniffles and your breathing gets calmer again.

"There we go. All good now." He sighs and is about to pull you away but you only wrap your arms tighter around his neck with a whimper.

"Don't wanna sweep alone..." You mumble quietly.

"I thought you were a big girl?" He couldn't help but tease making you whine.

"No big, m'baby." You tell him not seeing the way he smirks.

"Okay, let's go to daddy's bed, yea? Gonna protect you there." He promises, standing up with you wrapped around him. Before turning off the light again he makes sure you have your lamb with you.

Carrying you in the master bedroom he carefully lowers you on the bed. He gets in beside you, covering you both with a blanket and reaches for the remote to turn on some documentation about the sea life for background noise.

You wriggle a little closer to him, snuggling back into his chest for safety and smile a little when you feel him kiss the top of your head your eyes fluttering shut.

"You're safe. Nothing will hurt you when I'm here." He whispers, glancing down to see you already dozing off. "You'll always be my baby..."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra

[writingsofwesteros]

Kink Talk: Glory Holes

Daemon wife is out of town for a business trip and he has been left alone with the new babysitter who is just too delicious to pass up. The babysitter having a crush on Daemon tries to resist seeing how he is married and old enough to be her dad. One night while she sleeping in the guest room right behind the master bedroom. She notices a hole in the wall right behind the bed headboard. Confused about it, she yelps when she sees a huge cock come out from it. Hearing chuckling on the other side, she can hear Daemon tell her that he had the wall plugged in but never fixed it for useful purposes. The babysitter still awed by Daemon's cock, doesn't waste time kneeling on the bed and licking around the tip, before taking it in her mouth. In enraptured with the taste of Daemon cock, she start sucking to her heart's content. Daemon moaned feeling how hot her throat is and tight. He makes sure that he can hit the back of her throat. After she sucks some more, Daemon starts moving back and forth making sure to make her gag, hearing choking noises. Daemon feels ecstatic that the babysitter can handle his cock, when his wife can't. He knows he gonna pay her extra to stay, not missing out on a mouth like this. The girl doesn't stop gagging on Daemon, cock. Rubbing her clit, never having been fuck in her mouth this rough. Before Daemon can cum, she pulls back. Confused, Daemon doesn't get to speak before feeling her tight cunt pressing against the wall onto his cock. Moaning from her tightness Daemon start thrusting in and out here making the pretty sitter moan loud, while calling him Daddy on the other side of the wall. Daemon telling her to keep her voice down not wake the kids. She can't help it when feeling the coolness of the wall and his big hot cock, pressing against her cunt and ass feels so good.

Daemon thrusting one more time, makes sure to cum inside her tight pussy, before pulling out and looking through the holes to see the babysitter leaning over. Panting seeing his cum, leak out of her. Daemon, now knows this hole was gonna be useful for something and he gonna keep using it until his wife leaves again and maybe then he will pull the young girl into his bed. And just keeps the hole when his wife is home and she asks the girl to stay the night. Daemon will make sure to fuck her right next to his wife. She is too cute not fuck.

Oh Daemon is such a perv and he would do such a thing, especially with his wife sleeping beside the depraved act continuing.

He can't wait to take her on his marital bed; pushing her into a mating press as she squeals at his thickness.

[chronically-ghosted]

fade into you

rating: Explicit (18+)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 4K

summary: counting down the days until the new baby arrives, you’re already wound to a breaking point. Fortunately, Dieter is as good a husband as he is a father. 

warnings: pregnancy, hormonal behavior due to pregnancy, fluffy cute behavior with kids, oral (m!receiving), Dieter is a sensitive king and loves your tummy, brief body insecurity, pregnancy sex, smut, thigh fucking, daddy/mommy dynamic – mostly tongue in cheek, and finally the return of the greatest tag gone far too long from our lives - daddy!dieter

a/n: congrats @burntheedges you are the first prompt for my 1k follower celebration! This was your prompt for Dieter: "Your shirt is inside out." "Can you help me fix that?" This takes place in the same universe as Little Monsters, but you don’t have to have read that one to understand this one. Thank you SO much for sending this in!

🤍Dieter Bravo Masterlist 🤍Masterlist

I wanna melt in I wanna soak through I only wanna move when you move I wanna breathe out when you breathe in then I wanna fade into you

“C’mon – c’mon, just –,” your outstretched toe barely scrapes the end of the pen. You’re sweating – of course, you’re sweating, you’re always sweating these days. You try inching further down on the bed, as far as your aching back will allow, your leg fully extended, stretched so long you know you’re just flirting with a massive cramp – 

You manage to snag the pen between your toes but as you bring it forward, the weight of the top slips back – “fuck, no!” and with a clatter, the pen tips backwards out of your grasp and onto the floor. After spending ten minutes trying to a fucking pen that you accidentally put there only after you managed to roll your way off the bed to go to the bathroom for the third time in forty-five minutes, the weight of it all hits you. The massive weight of you sinks back against the pillows, eyes scrunched shut, begging yourself not to cry.

You had all but demanded some time alone to work on the bills the producer wanted you to sort through. It was the last thing on your to-do list before you mentally allowed yourself to start your maternity leave and at this rate, it would be done by the time the nearly-grown baby in your stomach was a walking, talking ten year old. In that weird sixth sense mothers and their unborn children share, you feel your son turn and gently one foot presses against your forearm draped over your massive belly. In any other context, your heart would have been made ten times stronger, fortified by the love of your son.

Right now, it just makes you burst into tears. 

You’re crying so hard you don’t hear the back door open, or the rousing chorus of Baby Shark that echoes through the house. If you were listening, you’d hear the squelch of wet flip flops traipsing through the kitchen floor, the song only occasionally broken by giggles and jokes about towel monsters coming to get little girls who drip water all over the living room, and a loud raspberry on soft skin. 

He opens the door before you even have time to try to pull in the loud, wailing sob. 

“Baby, look at –,” 

“Dieter, don’t –,” you snatch up a pillow and shove your face into it, ashamed, embarrassed, and angry all at once. “Don’t look at me like this.” 

When he had left you an hour ago, you had your hot tea by the side of the bed and your game face on – one of your sexier faces, if anyone asked him. You swore up and down this was the last thing and then it was smooth-sailing. You loved overworking yourself even while eight months pregnant, so Dieter and your doctor managed to make an agreement with you: all work must be done in bed. 

You had your tea, a snack, even a towel wrapped around the headboard so you could pull yourself upright out of the bed to go to the bathroom unassisted while Dieter and Zelle went down to the pool . You, like you so often do, had a fool-proof plan. And to be quite honest, those were Dieter’s favorite kind of plans. 

Listening to his ‘you think I can’t do it? watch me, fuck you’ wife and mother of his child (soon to be another) wail like the house was on fire made something inside of him break on a microscopic level. Like his organs were suddenly perforated with a million tiny cuts. 

His bottoms still wet from the pool and Zelle’s wet suit quickly soaking the front of his t-shirt, Dieter approaches, his hand squeezing the arch of your foot to let him know he’s there. That did nothing to deter the anguish sobbing or inch the pillow away from your face. 

With Zelle on his hip, he slides closer, touching you the whole time until he’s seated right beside you, his hand on your thigh. Your sobbing might only be second to Zelle’s own yelling cry in successfully destroying him from the inside out.

“Baby . . .”

You don’t flinch but he sees your knuckles go white – you’re nearly at the end, but you can’t seem to stop. As Dieter waffles between drawing you into his chest with his free arm or just being there for you while you let it all out, the weight on his hip shifts and a little pudgy hand brushes the back of your knuckles.

“Mama?” 

Your sobbing stutters to a halt with a deep hiccup and all at once you go still. Very slowly, the pillow is lowered and your pink, snotty, dribbly face peers up at him. It’s not funny for you, and he knows this and he knows he won’t laugh but he wants nothing more than to pull you in close and kiss off those tears that have been nearly a constant presence in the last two weeks. Instead, his little girl beats him to it.

Zelle wiggles off his hip towards you and you take her in your arms, letting out one more whine as she wraps her tiny arms around your neck. She rubs her little face in your neck and you huff.

“Now, I feel silly,” you blubber. With a small chuckle, Dieter reaches over and gets a few tissues from the bedside table. He hands them over and you try to juggle Zelle and reaching over your swollen tummy to take them.

“C’mere, baby, let Mama have a second.” Zelle folds into his shoulder, her bright, inquisitive eyes never leaving your face as you wipe yourself dry and blow your nose. He rubs your thigh in circles. “You’re not silly. Whatever ever made you break out into deep sobs on a Thursday afternoon in our secluded bedroom is totally normal.” 

You give a watery laugh, sniffing as you try to adjust your pillows, Baby Brave Number Two rolling back into your kidneys. He doesn’t kick, he's as unassuming as possible, but he can’t help how he floats. 

“I dropped a pen,” you murmur with a sigh. “I just got comfortable after waddling back in from the bathroom and I dropped my pen.” 

“Mama mad?” Zelle hides her little face beneath a curtain of hair. Dieter Bravo’s offspring in every conceivable way, Zelle is rarely this timid – only when there’s even but a hint of an implication that she’s in trouble. You’d see those same puppy dog eyes come out of the man with his hand up against her small back more than a dozen times. 

“No, baby, I’m not mad.” You shake your head and those wide eyes get even bigger. “I’m just having a lot of feelings and I’m not doing a good job at managing them.”

“Yeah, like remember how you felt on your first day of preschool?” Dieter slides Zelle across his waist so she sits between you two. She glances back between your faces, anxiety and confusion twisting up her little features. “You were mad and sad and scared all at once so you started crying when we dropped you off?” She nods and he tucks a strand of delicate hair over her ear. “But then we had that talk in the car and you felt better. Mama just needs to do that.”

“Talk? Mama talk?” 

He smiles at her and pulls her into his chest, smelling her strawberry L’Oreal shampoo, and a peace he’d never known before sinks into his bones. He feels whole with his little girl in his arms.

“Yes, she just needs to talk. Right, Mama?”

He pulls back and watches you visibly swallow. Not a knot of sadness but something else. It’s gone from your eyes by the time Zelle turns back around. 

“I’m just really excited for your little brother to get here,” you say with a soft smile, your hand absentmindedly stroking the swell of your stomach where a little foot had been pressed just a few minutes ago. “Aren’t you?”

Zelle nods, smiling, and puts her ear to your stomach. A minute later, Dieter’s wide palm covers yours. He interlaces his fingers with yours and he smiles. The smile that’s been cultivated and cured over half a dozen years together, and recent late nights as new parents. A smile that has never graced a single magazine cover or Instagram reel. A smile that is forever and always will be yours. 

“Come on, love bug, it’s bath time.” Dieter swings Zelle up into his arms and nibbles on her neck making her giggle. 

“Then dinner time,” you grunt as you inch towards the edge of the bed. You try and swing your legs off the edge but end up nearly toppling over your lowered center of gravity.

“Baby –,” his firm grip steadies you, stops you from rolling into the bedside table. Those lines at the corners of his eyes sharpen for a second as he looks you over, worry all at once endearing and annoying. You hated being coddled but Dieter loved to coddle. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you can hear how out of breath you sound and you grimace. Dieter doesn’t let go of your arm until you’re firmly planted on the ground next to him and you squeeze his bicep as reassuringly as you possibly can. He loosens his grip, concern wrinkling his forehead, his hand sliding from your arm, to your elbow then over your belly once again. Baby Bravo jostles you where his father’s hand sits.

“See, we’re all okay.” 

Your gazes meet at the same time and something softens in his eyes, soothes him and you down to the very beat of your heart. As if in a daze, Dieter’s eyelids flutter half-shut and his eyes slip to your mouth, he puts his hand on your swollen waist as he kisses you – deeply, with an intensity that makes your knees quiver. 

“Ew.”

A puff of breath fans your cheeks as Dieter breaks the kiss with a laugh. On his hip, Zelle chews on her little fist, an all-too-familiar glint in her eye. 

“You can’t say ‘ew’. You only exist because of kisses like that –,”

“Dieter!” 

He shakes his head before kissing Zelle on her little nose. “Tough crowd tonight. But even little sharks need to get a bath before dinner.”

Zelle scrunches up her nose, baring her crooked little teeth, and raises her fingers like claws. “Rawr.”

You hear Dieter chuckle as he walks her down to the bathroom. “Yes, baby, that’s definitely the sound sharks make.”

The bills aggressively shoved to the floor, you are folding the last bit of laundry over the bed after dinner when Dieter saunters in. Still in his trunks and shirt from earlier in the day, a faint pink blush warms his nose and cheeks – which would be gone in a few days, only to be replaced by a gorgeous dark almond color. Dieter Bravo could naturally tan so perfectly it was honestly heart-breaking. 

“She’s out?” 

“She’s out.” He nods with a sigh. He scratches the back of his head and snags his phone off the bedside table. When he sits down on the edge of the bed, you see the tag of his shirt over the lip of his collar. You muffle your grin and quietly finish with the towels. “The guy who came up with the lyrics ‘Baby Shark, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo’ is either a genius or a madman. Two rounds of that and she’s basically comatose.”

“How do you know it was a man?” You arch your eyebrow at him. 

Dieter lifts his head from his phone and smirks at you. He reaches for you and you let him tug you between his legs. He kisses your wrist, your hands curled around his broad shoulders. “That was incredibly sexist of me, darling, can you ever forgive me?”

Dropping his head, he presses a soft kiss to the swell of your stomach, his eyes flicking up to you at the last second, the bottom half of his face hidden. The sight, one you haven’t seen in recent months but one you craved like a drizzle of honey over a bowl of fruit, loosens the tension in your back and liquifies your underwear. 

“Dieter?”

“Yes, O Love of My Life?”

“Your shirt is inside out.”

The sultry look in his eyes immediately flickers out and he huffs a laugh, shaking his head and pressing his face into your neck.

“What would I do without you? Can you help me fix that?” 

“Mhm hm.”

His back arched, you roll the faintly damp shirt up his spine, careful to take in the notches visible through his skin. You watch in delight as more of that broad back is revealed, more golden skin and freckles. The rim of the collar catches the back of his head so when you finally tug it off him, his hair is scattered in a dozen different directions. It takes nearly all of your willpower not to moan at the site. 

“Or . . .” you make a deliberate show of dropping the shirt and Dieter goes honey-eyed again. 

“Yeah?” He tilts his head up, wraps his massive hands around the back of your thighs, squeezing you above the backs of your knees, then higher up, his fingers pressing into your inner thigh muscles, and finally resting on your ass. 

You nod and gently push him back. He goes without being told twice. “I want to thank you for taking Zelle to let me work today.”

His eyes go wide, his elbows locked with his arms set apart behind him, when you go onto your knees in front of him.

“B-baby, your back –,”

“Then give me a pillow, Dieter.” 

He nearly launches himself back to snag a pillow by the headboard. 

“My back is one thing, but I’m more worried about the knot of your trunks.”

Dieter busies himself with the drawstring of his shorts, his movements frantic, giving you a chance to muffle a grunt as you ease the pillow underneath your knees. He’s right, of course, but fuck if you couldn’t get those goddamn bills done, the least you could blow your husband until he popped off in your mouth. 

“Love, you really don’t have to do this.” You glance up at him and despite the evident tent in his swim trunks, his wide eager eyes, he will do everything in his power to make these last few weeks even somewhat bearable. 

With a smile, you lean forward and squeeze his knees. “I know. And honestly, I don’t know how long I’ll last, but I wanna try. Is that okay?”

An awe-struck grin splits his lips apart and he laughs, a high-pitched sound and breathless. “How long you’re gonna last? Been half-hard all day since you put on those leggings this morning.”

“Well, you were so good with Zelle today, talking to her about feelings, it made me kinda hot and bothered so I feel especially grateful.”

You lean forward, fingers plucking at the damp strings and out of the corner of your eye you see his knuckles go white against the sheets. You tug and he helps you by lifting his hips.

“S-so that’s what that look w-was.” He swallows roughly as you take him in your hand, stroking him gently at first. He squeezes his eyes shut – god, could you really make him come with just a few touches? “I’m j-just – fuck – doing my part.” 

You kiss along his length and his shoulders lock up as his breathing quickens. You suck the spit in your mouth before dropping a string of drool right on the head and Dieter’s groan elongates, the muscles of his neck tense. 

“Well, Mommy likes it when Daddy does a good job.”

Tongue out and jaw loose, you swallow him down nearly to the base. Maybe you’re biased because you married the himbo attached to it, but Dieter’s cock is one of the – if not the – very best cocks you’ve ever seen in your life. Thick without being overwhelmingly long and always oozing precum the instant you breathe on it. A slick vein that has him whimpering with a single lick. 

“Fuck, Mama, you’re so fucking good at this.” Dieter’s hand floats to the crown of your head, his nails scratching your scalp, the weight of his palm soothing as it follows the motions of your head. With every little sigh he makes, your pussy squeezes with every bob of your head. Dieter’s sensitivity has always been a near drug for you, a chemical reaction that floods your brain, branding those noises on the lining of your skull as he drips down the back of your throat. You meet his hot gaze just as you drag your mouth up and nearly off him, only to kitten-lick the lip of his head and he clamps his eyes shut, shuddering.

When you hear his heel kick the ground beside you, his chest heaving and chin tilted up, you drop your mouth down to his base – years of taking him training you to smother your gag-reflex – and with hollowed cheeks, suck him all the way up to the tip. His wiry curls smell like chlorine and musk. 

Dieter jerks, his hand flying to your shoulder as if to pry you off him. 

“Mhmm – baby, p-please – shit,” he swallows and you pop off him, his cock red and shiny from your spit. Dieter is panting, soft center fluttering, flush high in his throat. Your underwear sticks to you as you realize he very nearly came in your mouth without warning. Call it being a masochist but you loved making him come before either of you realized what was happening. 

“Get off your fucking knees and come here –,” he yanks you into his naked lap and you go, giggling as he palms your ass and kissing you so hard you tilt back. He bites your bottom lip and you keen. “Can’t believe I let my pregnant wife fucking suck me off like that when she knows I worship that little pussy.” 

He cups you through your leggings and the dampness soaking through the fabric sends a moan through both of you. Dieter’s jaw goes lax as he rubs his thick fingers across your folds, the material catching and dragging, and you whimper – and not in a way he knows means a good thing. His gaze floods with worry and you shake your head – the instant the doctor gives the go-ahead you’re gonna have him rail you through a bedpost – “It’s okay. I’m just sore, baby. Last night –,”

He tsks, frowning. “I told you I was being too rough.”

“I asked for it. Also, so not the time for an ‘I told you so’. Help me stand up.” 

With his hands on your hips, he eases you off of his lap and onto your feet. You lift up your exasperatedly large shirt, the hemline of which has been steadily shrinking as you grow, and clip off your bra. Dieter stares, mouth open, as you slip your leggings and your sticky underwear off your round hips and to the floor. With your second baby, you’d managed to quell the looming anxiety about your body changing but with a boy, you just feel ten times your normal size, bigger than you did with Zelle. Your heart hitches in your chest as Dieter’s eyes roam from your shoulders to your swollen tits, your belly, your thighs, and you’d be happy if he just thought you were – 

“Gorgeous, baby, just fucking gorgeous.” He stands and kisses you without another word, his thumbs on your jaw tilting your mouth into his. He palms your breast, hard and weighed with milk. He approaches you with a level of sensuality that makes your eyes roll back in your head and your knees shake. How can he touch you like that when you’re already filled to the brim?

“How do you need it, baby?”

The tension that had been locking down the muscles in your back, your hips, since you woke up this morning, only heightened over those stupid fucking bills and feeling incredibly sorry for yourself, cracks at his words. Without your hands on his chest and his big hands cradling your jaw, you’re sure you would have melted to the floor. You lick your bottom lip, eyes scrunched tightly to clear the sudden tightness behind them. 

“On my side, but between my thighs?” 

His eyes are all heat, all dark wanting, but he hits you in the knees with one of his crooked grins. “Yeah, you’re gonna let Daddy fuck your thighs?” Total reverence, filth that has your toes curling coming as easy to him as it is to breathe. 

“Please.” 

He stands back at a distance, watching with half-set eyes as you climb into bed and peel back the covers. As you settle, Dieter flicks off the overhead light, and then the lamp by your bedside. His body lined in dark shadows and the cool touch of the moonlight, you track him as he rounds the bed, sliding in behind you in bed, the covers up to his shoulders. There’s a breath of silence, of anticipation, of a yearning so deep your skin flushes with goosebumps at his proximity. You know he’s there, you watched him dip on the other side of the bed, but a spark of panic tightens your lungs, you want to reach back for him, your baby unmoored as you are, trembling and desperate for the calming touch of the father –

He kisses you over your shoulder, broad, warm hand starting at your hip, then scooping down around your naked bottom to settle on your belly and from where his hand sits, you radiate with heat. Melting and growing sticky like tree sap, you drip for him, slick smearing across your thighs with no material to soak you up. His mouth is warm, the short hairs of his mustache numbing your upper lip, the taste of the red wine from dinner light against the back of his tongue. 

When he cups you again, finds the sticky sap gathered in your curls and leaking onto your thighs, he breaks the kiss with a grunt and presses his teeth into your shoulder, his cock fully present against your back. You nip his bottom lip with your thumbnail, pleased beyond words at his reaction.

“I love you.” 

That’s not what you thought he was going to say. He lifts his furrowed brow, eyes dark but struck with such earnestness, you feel your heartbeat in your ears. He sucks the mark his teeth made on your shoulder, his hips hitching closer, turning his weight over you, before dropping closer to kiss you again.

“How did I get so fucking lucky with you, hm?” He asks of no one. Delicately, he guides your knee back over his hip, his breath warm across the curve of your shoulder, his other hand pressing gently on the back of your neck. He would never, ever choke you in this state, but fuck you missed it. You missed it when Dieter loses himself entirely in you. 

The head of his cock taps the wet triangle of your thighs and you fist the pillow beneath your head. He shuffles closer and you can feel his chest trembling with restraint. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” he says in one breath. You know if you look over your shoulder, he’s fixated on watching you take his cock. Oddly enough, his ADHD always seemed to clear out during sex. “Do– do you need my fingers – a-a toy to prep you, ‘cause I can–,”

“Dieter, please.”

He exhales and, with a slow thrust that smears your arousal all over his spit-licked cock, you finally feel relief. The noise that leaves your throat is unrecognizable. That ruddy tip kisses your clit and the moan that tears out of you is nearly a scream. 

A wide palm claps over your mouth, a breathy giggle falling down your back. 

“Baby,” low, strained, barely audible over the sounds of your slickness sucking your thighs together around Dieter’s cock. “If you wake up that child before I’m balls deep in you, I will never forgive you.”

Using his hand as leverage, he pulls you back against him, pressing himself even further between your soaked lips, prodding your clit so gently it sends sparks up your spine and you come, a small wave, that somehow has you leaking more onto his cock. 

“Ah – oh my god – did you just –?” 

You whine and wrap your hand up into his hair, and finally he’s skin to skin up your back. His hips jolt you forward, the hard smack loud and sloppy in the mess between your thighs. Dieter leans over you and nips at your earlobe, his thrusts faster now, each one catching your clit with just enough time apart to send you ratcheting higher. 

“That’s so good, Dieter, you’re doing so good –,”

A sharp intake of breath, high through a vocal shudder, and he drops down onto his shoulder against the pillow, looping his arm around your chest, a wide palm cupping your sensitive breast. Skin to skin, he is a wall of heat behind you, his hands both steadying you and begging you for more against your hip. It’s moments like these, when he’s swallowing up every sense you’re still in control of, that you really believe your soul lives in two bodies. 

He tucks his lips near your ear and your skin tingles. “Can I touch your clit, or does that hurt?”

“Just put your hand –,”

You take him by the wrist from the curve of your waist, where he grips you tight, fingers pocketing your flesh, and slide him down between your legs. 

“That’s it, baby, take what you need.” 

Between the consistent bouncing of his cock between your pussy lips and the heat of his four fingers, stocky and thick, you have nowhere to go but up, your own hips thrust back aimlessly, bliss hurling towards you, until it breaks – and you whine, squeeze Dieter’s hand so hard, you think you hear a bone pop.

Wetness floods your thighs and, half a dozen strokes later, Dieter spills with a groan, white cream splattering against the low curve of your belly and onto the sheets. Covered in literal spend, exhaustion soaks your bones, gasping for air and never finding enough. You lie together, your bodies buzzing, blood roaring loud beneath your skin, until Dieter tilts his weight off you – you didn’t even realize he had nearly smothered you – and his cock slides out from between your numb legs, his grip loosening from your breast and his hand flopping down into the sheets. His skin is pink from exertion.

You grin and roll over as gracefully as you can, out of breath and the size of a house. 

“An unexpected bonus,” you sigh, ringing your belly button with your finger, “I think we rocked him to sleep.” 

Dieter huffs a laugh as he pushes a handful of damp curls off his sweaty forehead and his other arm curls around your shoulders. He rests his other palm over your fingers on your belly.

“Glad I could tire all three of us out.” You giggle into his shoulder. Both of you are sticky hot, sweltering in a fog of your own mess, and you can feel sleep tugging at the corners of your eyes. Humming, you curl up closer to him, your knee over his hip, tucking your nose into his neck as his fingers absently play with strands of your hair. 

“I meant what I said, you know that right?”

Your body as supple as warm wax, eyes melting shut, you nod vaguely. “Mhmm hmm.” 

“I love you, baby. Thank you, for everything.”

You return the sentiment, the words dribbling out of your mouth as sleep overwhelms you.

Later, when you wake up in the early blue hours of the morning, rain pattering against the glass, and you feel something cool and soft against your belly, you stir, reaching for him.

“Hush, baby, stay still for me.” He hums somewhere above you. You nod, on the precipice of sleep again. “You gave me the world, I’m just returning the favor.”

Later still, when you awake to a soggy light, Dieter and Zelle down the hall excitedly picking out which movies to watch on this designated Stay on the Couch day, you roll onto your back and realize he’s painted a globe onto your stomach. 

A foot inside you presses up against Chile and you grin into space, content beyond your wildest dreams. 

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