#the daddy issues are here too btw

[rv3rblog]

ok srry im gna talk abt them. oc lore + oc x canon under the cut

(mommy issues and then daddy issues in this)

first oc: xavier henderson from stranger things.

xavier is mexican-american. adopted. spanish speaker. gay and poly. he started as a self insert but lowkey isnt anymore.

(i did a lot of research in immigration in the 70s-80s for this fic btw as well as foster care)

xavier has an older brother who was around 20 when his parents got deported. his brother didn’t want to keep him around and so, he was in foster care from the ages of six to seven. he ran away after an abusive home and went to his brother only for him to turn him away.

he stole some money from him, got a bus ticket and went to hawkins, indiana where he was taken in by claudia.

he gets taken by hopper first though, into the office and when claudia goes to pick up her husband she sees this little boy and takes him.

xavier takes care of dustin in principle due to the fact that he thinks he needs to in order to belong.

he sees claudia as his mom. calls her “mami/mamá” and dotes on her. she’s a nurse and constantly works doubles bc she’s raising two boys on her own.

he’s best friends with jonathan. he’s out to jonathan, will and dustin. they don’t care. they love him as him.

(prior to act i / season i)

xavier always feels like a burden to his mom. always worried that she’s gonna kick him out. she doesn’t, she wouldn’t. she keeps him, that’s her son no matter what anyone says.

come the end of act ii (season ii) when he’s in the hospital with steve she fawns over him. when she notices that steve is all alone, she takes him in too.

xavier loves his mother. does everything in his power to lessen her burden. he cooks and cleans the house. takes care of the chores around tue house. takes care of dustin, protects him from the creatures in the dark.

xavier is a mamas boy. he lets her fawn over him. he lets her hug him and touch her. he loves his mom dearly, having lost his bio mother to the system and the laws in the 80s.

he hasn’t come out to her, scared but she knows. it doesn’t bother her but it does worry her. the world already isn’t kind to people of color and the world isn’t kind to queer people either. she’s worried for her boy who is both a men of color and queer.

his mommy issues stem in belonging with her. not wanting to disappoint her, always looking for her approval and her love. he’s scared that her love is conditional, that it isn’t as unconditional as she says it is.

i don’t know how to explain his daddy issues. he didn’t grow up with a father figure.

xavier sticks with hopper most times. it’s seen more after the events in act ii (season ii) and during intermission ii (between seasons).

hopper lets him, sees him sort of like a son. keeps the promise to claudia to look after him after the events in act i.

he doesn’t have a father. he didn’t grow up with one. any older men in his life hurt him (foster care) and he didn’t bother.

xavier doesn’t know how to communicate. he can’t articulate his emotions properly. he struggles with opening up which is what leads to issues in his relationships (romantic) and he just, cant.

he tries. that’s all that matters.

love interest: steddie (endgame is a polyamorous relationship)

moving on to my next oc: tarley velaryon a house of the dragon oc.

tarley is legally speaking, laenor velaryon’s first born son. he is his heir. history remembers his mother dying during childbirth and him being born premature.

that isn’t the truth. tarley was born to joffery lonmouth and his unnamed wife. laenor’s first wife dies and so does his babe, premature labor. joffery’s wife died in childbirth as well but, he gives his son to laenor. they would raise them together but he would have a better life under house velaryon.

tarley is said to be a bastard, for he has brown hair and brown eyes. laenor is adamant that his wife was faithful to him, that tarley is his son.

it helps, that his mother rhaenys has dark hair with whisps of silver. they use that to his advantage.

tarley grows up with rhaenyra as his mother due to laenor remarrying three months after his birth.

he gives rhaenyra a sense of accomplishment, that she could be a good mother and feels secure in having her own children. to rhaenyra, tarley is her first child.

he grows up with the velaryon boys as his brothers. jaceaerys and lucerys. he takes care of them, protects them. he helps them in their sword training even if they don’t need it.

he dotes on them. those are his brothers.

tarley never stops seeing rhaenyra his mother. he has only had one mother figure and it’s her. it isn’t until he learns he isn’t laenor’s biological son that his world view shatters.

he starts to feel unworthy of being the future lord of the tides. he feels disconnected from his brothers.

(im still debating in making him half targeryen. if whether or not his mother should be a targeryen bastard and for him to claim a dragon)

rhaneyra keeps him close. always calling him “my boy” “my sweet boy” and he lets her.

tarley loves rhaenyra. he lets her coddle him, lets her hold him. even when he’s older, he doesn’t shy away from her touch. he loves her.

tarley holds a special place in his heart for her.

after learning the truth about himself (act i part iv) he doesn’t know where he belongs. he struggles with his identity and rhaenyra sees this.

tarley also takes a role of being his brothers’ protector. he tries to distract criston’s hate from then and trains with him so they train with each other. he coddles them when they were younger.

he doesn’t have to. he doesn’t have to do anything to belong in his family but he does.

going back to tarley and rhaenyra.

with tarley helping her feel confident in being his mother, what happens to him throughout the dance hurts her. he gets taken by aemond, a war prisoner. she is grief striken from a miscarriage and losing her son lucerys, only to find out tarley was taken as well, her first son?

she loves him. she worries and she plans and she panics. she is a mother first and foremost during this war. she is as much as a mother as she is queen.

when tarley starts to distance himself from her due to an argument he had with his brother, jace, she panics. she loves all her children, she wants to keep them safe. safe.

when the dance of the dragon breaks out, tarley watches his brothers die. all of them. he loses himself in the fight to rhaenyra.

his mommy issues are more complex. like xavier, he wants to belong. his issues are more on belonging. he doesn’t feel worthy of rhaenyra seeing him as her first son. he doesn’t want to disappoint her. he wants to keep her safe. time and time again she proves that her love is unconditional towards him but he worries.

okay now, his daddy issues? insane.

after joffery lonmouth died, laenor kinda disappeared. he still took care of tarley, didn’t want to burden rhaenyra while his son was a babe but he struggled.

tarley, as he grew, stuck with rhaenyra and his brothers. watched as laenor only drank and stuck with this one knight.

laenor, barely if not didnt, help rhaenyra raise them.

that is why tarley took the mantle on keeping his brothers safe. they were his responsibility since laenor wouldn’t.

harwin was a father figure to him. he trained sometimes with the knight at nightfall when he couldn’t sleep.

harwin doted on him the same way he doted on his brothers.

harwin died and tarley felt like he lost a father.

laenor is more complex. he was around, sure but, he wasn’t at the same time. laenor, as time went buy was emotionally absent. he didn’t let tarley get close to dragons (with good reason) but he also didn’t offer an explanation.

he is drunk most times, off around kings landing and barely makes time for his sons.

tarley sometimes feels like he is connected to his father. he loves him, truthfully. he is always defending him.

when an argument breaks out between tarley and aemond about him being a bastard like his brothers he corners laenor.

laenor is drunk but tells him the truth. laenor is blunt about. he doesn’t tell him the full truth however.

tarley struggles with his identity. of course he does, he was told he was a velaryon his whole life only to turn out he wasn’t.

when laenor dies, tarley lost another father. days within one another. then, rhaenyra marries and he hates daemon.

tarley and daemon are.. so incredibly complex.

daemon tries bonding with him, he does but tarley doesn’t let him. tarley is stingy and hateful and it makes sense for a twelve year old to grow resentment.

tarley softens, throughout the years though. he notices how his brothers let him in and he decides to do the same, for their sake.

he has to lead by example.

so he lets daemon in.

his daddy issues are from his father’s negligence. emotionally absent father. his father figure dying and then gaining another father so soon. he suffers from seeing where he belongs, who he is. is he laenor? is he harwin? is he daemon? is he a mix of all three?

it doesn’t help that history remembers him as “the cruel heir to the seas” and “prince daemon’s prodigy” due to how angry he is with the war btw.

love interest: aemond targeryen

now third oc i have developed fully is: aeryon targeryen another house of the dragon oc.

aeryon is aemond’s younger twin brother. the twins are favored by their mother. they are the youngest, apart from their brother daeron who is in oldtown.

aeryon is more favored however. alicent seeing her mother in him. in how he has a darker blonde and brown eyes.

aeryon is a mamas boy through and through. he loves her.

in his eyes, she can do no wrong.

here’s what takes the cake: i have a little quote im going to add when i write more chapters that go “aeryon goes from being queen alicent’s favorite to being hated by her.”

aeryon grows up with team green. he has issues that stem from his mother’s religion and his father’s neglect.

a part of him fears becoming like his mother. he fears getting trapped in a prison of his own making. he worries for her.

he sees her a bird trapped in a cage and he wants to free her. truly does.

aeryon grows up, loved by his mother.

however when the war breaks out, he isn’t by her side. he flies to dragonstone on his dragon, begs for his half sister rhaenyra to keep his mother alive.

no one on team green knows though. they think him a traitor. alicent still defends him though, always does.

his mommy issues aren’t as deep. he grew up loved by her and he loves her. however, he is a reflection of her in certain ways. he picks up her nervous habits due to always being around her. his twin, aemond, tells him that if he was born a girl his mother and him would be identical.

he fears being caged like her. he doesn’t want to be caged but would rather be free. he is her reflection for the religious trauma, for being her son. for being favored. he struggles with being seen, being coddled, suffocated.

now his daddy issues… i am a viserys hater. i hate him so bad.

viserys sees his brother, daemon, in the twins. he calls them daemon when he gets bed riddened, more ill.

he doesn’t remember aeryon’s name. he says aeryon got daemon’s temperament, his anger and rashness. aeryon hates that.

aeryon struggles with being seen by his father. he wants his father to see him for him and not his uncle.

he stays with his father somedays after lessons, pitying him. he wants to be seen and he isn’t.

he is seen as daemon, never himself.

aeryon struggles with identity. he doesn’t feel like his own person. his twin sees him like their mother, someone fragile to protect. his mother puts pressure on him and his father doesn’t see him.

his father’s negligence is something that cuts him deep. he doesn’t know how to feel his emotions properly. it’s why he lashes out. he acts out to be seen by his father but he isn’t. he lashes out to show he isn’t delicate but it doesn’t matter. he struggles and struggles and doesn’t know how to cope.

love interest: jaceaerys velaryon and baela targeryen (end game a polyamorous relationship)

— maybe in another time i’ll talk abt my ocs and their love interests. this is all i got abt their mommy and daddy issues for now.

biting the bars of my cage bc why are all my mother son relationships so complex in my oc x canon fics oh im insane

[mochapanda]

i put them in silent hill d(-_^)

notes + non grainy vers under cut

maybe one day i'll make a continuation with the surviving (for now) characters but this is just for the dead ones 🤗 (its more or less just the plot of silent hill 2....)

[niyafics]

: •̩̩͙ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙙 ⋆｡°  •̩̩͙ ໋:🦁

chap1 : sweet talk frat!rich!paige bueckers x reader AU

˳ ⋅ ⊹ wc: 5k (*cries*)

˚ ⋅ ⊹ cw: alcohol (barley), swearing, LOWKEY EMO/LONER READER(i love opposites srry), estranged relationship with parents, golden retriever x black cat dynamic, an au things r diff obviously, the frat is made up lolol and not an established relationship either , lotsa building. angst(?), daddy issues(?). only proofread by me lolllll

˳ ⋅ ⊹ abt: after a long night of serving snobs you try to get a drink and a cute, hyper, frat girl home from college bails you out. now she won’t leave you alone.

˚ ⋅ ⊹(a/n): ty if u waited to read this, n srry if it sucks as always lolol. feel free to still use this idea btw!

ANOTHER exhausting night catering to posh assholes, and their colleagues. Some were easier to service. They screwed their face when you walked up, like you’d been interrupting a conversation, before bluntly repeating their orders, barley slow enough for you to hurriedly jot down.

They don’t thank you when you bring the food, they seldom look at you, like eye contact or a smile costs, and leave a fat tip that was probably change in their pocket.

Other times, it’s almost exactly the same. But, in place of the silence that showed they’re ‘better’, men the age of your parents, slipped a disgusting comment about your figure or an aggressively sexual invitation.

This long in the food industry, you were used to it. A forced laugh usually wards them off, and yet, it makes the evening drag. The 10 hours feels like 20. Your social battery is completely fried by the time you make it to your studio. Usually.

Certain nights, the tips stack so good, you have to reward yourself. This night in particular, you made the rest of your rent, and had fifty dollars extra to spend. Why not get a drink? It had been so long since you had alcohol warming your insides and cheeks. Since you had someone decent looking flirt with you face to face.

Your feet are throbbing after your shift, the money in your pocket keeps you motivated to get at least buzzed.

The bar you choose seems new, at least that’s what it’s listed as, nearby your place. Still cheap, but with a pathetic effort at millennial decorating. You wouldn’t see any of the richies you had to deal with at your job here, sucking their teeth at your chipped nail polish and beaten Vans. Throwing your apron in the backseat, you spray perfume to fight the smell of kitchen on you, and shake your hair free of its tie.

A chimes goes off, as you step inside, the place is almost empty. A middle aged couple play pool in a dim corner, and a few other groups or people spread out, leaving plenty room. Outdated music plays that clashes with the theme, so you get a feeling the decoration is just an effort to keep up with the times. You plop down in a stool at the bar with a grunt, sighing in relief, looking at the menu above, even though you were going to order the last drink you remember.

The bartender is a cute ginger, with freckles dotted on her face and down her arms. She glances over a few times with an apologetic smile, while an inebriated old man talks her ear off. You lift your hand to let her know to take her time, fiddling with a jar of toothpicks in front of you.

The bell echos at the front from behind you, and a rush of obnoxious conversation follows.

It was a warm summer night, and the suburban kids of the wealthy were home from school, but they usually drove through, to the overpriced clubs that suited them. You huffed an annoyed breath, taking a glance behind you. Everyone else’s head swiveled with yours. The children of the wound up business men you’d spent hours tolerating.

“This place stinks, like, actually..” One girl whispered. Two guys beside her laugh like hyenas.

“Yeah, good pick, Bueckers..” Another seethed sarcastically in disgust, with a string of chuckles following.

“Not too bad..” A tall blonde with her hair in a neat low bun pushed through and interjected. That must’ve been Bueckers. She turns to the group and gestures towards the pool table the couple had been playing at. You stared her down in her khaki shorts and pressed, short sleeve polo. Her friends dressed in similar preppy fashion. “Pool table’s cool.”

The couple of boys in outfits similar to hers groaned, moving towards it. The older couple was long gone, seemingly taking the group as a cue to leave. You were taking it as the same, still, you lingered. Your fingers dug into the leather of the back of the chair, looking at the lanky, yet toned, woman established as leader. A shorter girl, with brown hair, in an almost blinding white tennis skirt and jacket set, trailed behind, hooking her arm with Bueckers, as they walked over.

You identified her as the one that commented on the smell, she was right, but you still didn’t like her. A feeling bit at you that you pushed off as irritation, swiveling back around with a closed mouth scowl. The fiery haired bartenders’ kind green eyes met you, raising a brow.

“See someone you know?” She asked while drying a shot glass and setting it back on the rack behind the bar.

“No, thank god,” You joked, another whip of air pushing from your lips, relieving tension. “I’ll take a vodka and sprite, please.” She tilts her head knowingly, and begins to concoct it, while you reach into your pocket to pull out a twenty. Her hair whips back around with the drink and you’ve forgotten about the group. As she sets it down, a frown comes on her face at the sight of the bill. You’re raising your brow now.

“I forgot to tell you, card only, sorry…” The bartender bites her lip nervously, pointing to a sign behind her to back her up. Your shoulders slump, already knowing what your bank account looks like. A pang of disappointment stings your chest but you swallow it, and reach for your card anyways. You don’t know why. You already know it’ll decline. The sprite and vodka bubbles infront of you tauntingly.

“Put it on my tab.” A warm voice speaks up, and you feel a figure take the seat beside you, her long legs not fitting under the bar. They bump your thigh ever so slightly, as she swivels in boredom, facing you. Bueckers from earlier had came up to buy the first round. She shoots you a rosy lipped smirk, her blue eyes searching to meet yours for approval. You look down, putting the money back in your pocket instead, not feeding in. Her bottom lip purses out, brows stitching together so slightly, she probably thought you didn’t see it out the corner of your eye.

She slips a luxury brand wallet out her shorts, still looking at you when her slim fingers drag the thick black AmEx card across the granite bar, thick and shiny. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. Bueckers, (Paige Bueckers, as the AmEx said) was trying to show off. Her icy orbs don’t leave you. You sip from the stirring straw as the bartender takes the card away. “Thank you.” You finally say after she leaves.

“No problem, doll face,” Her confident smirk is back as she scans over your work clothes. You’re not insecure, you fear that she’s sizing you up. That she can see the coffee stain at the bottom of your department store t-shirt, and feels oh-so sorry for you. You take a secretly angry sip. “What are you doing here all alone?”

You roll your eyes so hard they might fall out, finally lifting to meet her stare with a reserved expression. It doesn’t deter Paige, it makes her chuckle instead, and for a second you can hear a hint of nervousness.

“Okay, stupid question, sorry..” Her head turns back to the bar with a blush spreading into her round cheeks. For a second, you smile too, feeling something you can’t place, for a stranger making a corny move at you. Probably from the cocktail. You shake your head trying to pull yourself out of it.

“It’s fine, I’m just getting a drink after work..” You answer, although you usually wouldn’t. Something about the way she drank you in, her eyes pleading for approval with her metal rectangle of riches. It wasn’t hungry or cold, it was more like ‘please like me’. You exchange names, even though you already knew hers.

The server is back over, looking at Paige expectantly for her order. She gets a round of beers, turning back to you.

“Well, if you’re not too tired, you should come play me in pool,” Paige plucks up her card, and each Corona set infront of her. Two in each hand, between her fingers, then carefully swiveling around and standing. “I’ll buy you another.” She winks.

You hold her gaze and your breath until she walks away. Tipsy from the sips due to low tolerance, you slump back into the seat.

You had gone back to the pool table, even though her friends made your stomach twist. Their judgmental looks phased into the background as you and Paige played, the 3 watching, talking amongst one another. She had a talent of making it seem like you were alone.

Paige ordered another drink for you as promised, but you both barely drank again after your first, focused on the generic pool table. On the interesting stranger in-front of you.

Paige had politely demonstrated. Guiding your arms with her own, both lurched over the table, her hunched over you. She has to explain something an extra time, when her hips bump into you, and you space out. Once you get the hang of it, you’re ahead by two, determined to get the 8ball first.

Paige threw her head back once she misses a hole again for the same ball. You can’t help but explode in giggles, covering half your face with your palm. Catching you anyway, she grins at you, a twinkle in her eye as she squints.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, gorgeous.”

Her group watches you both banter, the short brunette coiling her face at you in the same way she did when the sticky stench of the bar hit her nose. You shoot an apologetic smile, awkwardly, even though you hadn’t done anything to her.

Paige ends up winning, with your head start, that you start to suspect was on purpose. Halfway expecting her to try to take you home, something heavy sets over you near the end of the night, asking if you wanted to leave with her. She was beautiful, seemed kind, and generous. Why not?

To your disappointment, and mostly curiosity, she gives the back of your hand a firm kiss instead, swapping numbers, wishing you a good night. You find yourselves turning to steal one more glance, walking to your cars, hers sleek and black with an engine the yelled as she veered away with her companions.

It started off with a simple ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’. You had full intentions of brushing her off after the bar. The two of you had shared a moment, that’s all, nothing would come from someone like that and someone like you.

Paige was persistent. She woke up around 2 when you’re enjoying your last hour of freedom before work, with offers to interrupt her precious rest and take you, pick you up, bring you lunch.

“I have to come in early.”

“I have to stay late.”

“I don’t have a lunch.”

You shot her down, only because you knew she wouldn’t be moved. Secretly, you didn’t want her to know where you worked. The mystery, and push of you was better than the reality, you figured. That you were taking an involuntary gap year from your dream school, you were paying out of pocket for. Refusing to take on too much debt, you saved to return. Friends suggested asking your parents, they weren’t offering, so why ask?

Paige was restless to meet again, you could tell from her invitations sprinkled in every conversation, the past few days. Never could you figure she’d show up to your job though.

You’d been thrilled to leave your shift. It wasn’t bad, it was slow, which is somewhat worse. The dark sports car from a few days ago would have been the farthest thing from your mind, if you didn’t see one so similar to it. Parked right next to your old Honda, in the nearly empty lot.

Your steps slowed and you stared, dumbfounded. The windows were tinted an illegal amount. It’s low rumbling is flicked off and exactly who you figure pops out from inside.

“My dad loves this restaurant.” Paige smiles, like you’re casually meeting here. You nod knowingly.

“Why do you know where I work?” A groan escapes you, trying to speak sternly, your small grin betraying you. The blondes smile stays put, tucking a few of loose curls behind her ear. She waits for you to step closer, to the open car door she’s leaning on with her elbows.

“Yeah, well, my friend said he’d seen you, when he was out to eat not too long ago,” She throws a shrug like the next part is the normal thing that anyone does. “You go to work at 3…they close at 11…I just kind of….” As she spoke it out loud, the pink from a few nights ago returned to her face, heavier now.

“That’s super creepy, you know?” You tease her. If she was anyone else. Heat spreads in your cheeks, shifting the weight on your feet, to distract from it. Still, her ego isn’t bruised.

“You don’t think that,” Said with a chuckle, like she knows it for certain. You’re about to shoot a rebuttal about how she’s basically a stalker. She doesn’t stop speaking. “On your next day off. Let me take you out.” Not said in the form of a question.

“Hm…” You hum, putting your finger to your chin. “I am off tomorrow, but I’m sure you knew that too.” Teasing her again.

“Maybe I do.” She throws her shoulder up with a sly expression. You raise a brow at her that she ignores. “We could go play tennis at the club, or I know a few restaurants. Way stricter dress codes than here, though…Do you have tennis skirts? How about heels? You don’t seem like you’d wear either of those. That’s fine, we can go shopping before we go..” Paige is rambling. Your arms slump in disbelief at how fast she’s talking, having a conversation with herself, almost.

“Or even better, we could make a whole day of the shopping. Then we go to dinner. Forget it, let’s just wait and I’ll get us floor seats to th-“

“Okay, wait!” You stop her before she makes up her mind to fly you out of the state. “This is super overwhelming. I will only go on one condition.”

Paige clings to your every word, finally quiet, her face flushed slightly with embarrassment for over talking.

“It has to be something normal. Something even I can afford.” Paige makes a face at you, like what she named off were tame settings for getting to know someone. You rub your tired face, and walk over to your car, the door creaks when you open it.

“Okay, okay!” She rushes over to you, closing it back, “Something normal. I’ll pick you up, and we can do that.” You tilt your head up at her, both of you soaking each other in for a moment.

“Unless, you’re only capable of lovebombing..” You narrow your eyes at her with a smirk. Paige bursts out laughing.

“It’s not lovebombing, if it doesn’t stop, though.” grinning so hard all her teeth are showing, you don’t realize you are too.

“Right.”

You find yourself dreading Paige seeing your unkept apartment building. At around the time she usually is just waking up, she’s parked outside. Paige doesn’t see you walking up, being too busy with texting you she’s outside for the third time in five minutes.

She has no witty line prepared when you slide into the passenger seat, finally not in your work clothes, or makeup hours old. Her mouth is just gaped open like an idiot, she shuts it, when you give her a weird look.

You smelled like a bakery, in shorts and a crop top to accommodate the weather, with no clue where you were going, only that it’s across town, presumably near where she grew up.

“You look really pretty,” the corner of her lip curls up. It feels awkward, you’re still flustered hearing it. Picking at your nails nervously, while your eyes wandered up her to meet her own pair. She was in denim shorts this time, with a plain T-shirt, white and blue Jordan’s. It looked different from how she dressed at the bar with her friends, you felt less underdressed than you thought you would. “Finally get to see you outside of work.” Paige head turns to you every so often, one hand on the wheel, her elbow leaning against the armrest.

“Thank you, you look good too..” You bite your lip, gazing out the window, as she breaks at a red light. Good was just putting it lightly. Two pieces of her hair braided in the front, the rest straightened past her shoulders. Mascara coated her long lashes, and silver jewelry accented her whole body.

It was real silver and diamonds, you guessed, from the way it glimmered against the light. You stare down her arm taking up most of the rest between you. It reaches down, grabbing your hand, locking fingers automatically. Her thumb rubs the back of your palm.

It’s a park that she pulls into the lot of. A ice cream truck is a few spaces down, with families and small children waiting in line. Paige holds her finger up to you, signaling you to wait there. You don’t question it, unbuckling your seatbelt, agreeing to stay put.

You watch her jog up to the back of the line through the rear view, in front of you the vast greenery, sprinkled with jungle gyms, walking trails, and benches. The park near your apartment had grass high up to your knees, this grass looked like it was trimmed daily.

You’re suddenly anxious to get out the car. Paige comes back, this time holding a coned ice cream and some in a Styrofoam cup with a spoon. She opens your door for you, then hands you the cone.

“Thanks.” You lick a side that was melting, and Paige sticks a spoonful in her mouth beaming, with a nod.

Both of you decide to sit down, and enjoy your frozen dairy in silence for a few minutes. Then you smile and speak.

“Not a fan of cones?” You ask her, taking a long lick. She watches your mouth for a second then gently comes back to reality.

“Too messy.” Paige replies, shaking her head like she’s trying to push a thought away.

“Of course, too messy.” A smile is etched into your face the whole time, barley faltering. Paige gets a feeling you’re teasing her.

“Yeah,” She turns towards you, leaning her elbow on the back of the bench. Another scoop is shoved into her mouth before she dramatically adds. “I only get cones when my butler is here to wipe my mouth, duh.” You shove her shoulder gently, both of you erupting into tiny chuckles.

Small talk drives you crazy, but as you do it with Paige, it warms you up. You even find yourself asking questions. She talks about playing basketball as a kid, all the way to high school. Paige mentions how her dad is essentially a business mogul for a marketing company, and expects her to follow suit. She had been doing well so far, amazing grades, joining the same fraternity, like he wanted her to. Omicron Tau Sigma.

Her apprenticeship at the company her father ran with his fraternity brothers started a week ago, and she didn’t seem worried. As she put it, their less than welcoming children that she was forced to acquaint with and host, was work enough. You figured those were the friends at the bar.

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re cool, and I have my moments where I’m worse.”

“Oh I’m sure..” You mumble between laps.

“Watch it.”

Before you know it, it’s your turn. You skip out on a lot of details, telling her a bit of your childhood, that you’re taking a gap year, and aren’t close to your parents. You didn’t have a pre planned multimillion dollar future, that didn’t have to be said.

“I don’t get you.” It’s so sudden, you don’t know how to respond., and you were used to being caught off guard.

“What’s there to get?” Paige nods, like she figured something out. You stare blankly until she further explains.

“You hate people. Or maybe you just seem that way. Either way, you’re closed off,” more vanilla into her mouth, as you’re starting to bite into the waffle cone. “You live alone, no mention of friends—“

“You’re very observant.” You nod thoughtfully.

“You’re very impossible.” Paige mumbles, finishing off her cup, and tossing it in the trash beside the seat.

“I just like being alone, what’s so special about it?” You look off at someone playing with their dog. “It’s the safest place to be. Depending on yourself, the only person who is reliable.” You cringe. It sounded edgy, yet, it was the truth, and you learned it the hard way.

Paige gives her full attention. Her hand crosses on-top of yours. For the first time, she looks sad for you.

“Safe doesn’t mean lonely. And all people aren’t the same.” A quick curl of her lip, lifts and falls from her face. You think about giving her a tough time. Shutting her down. Pushing those thoughts away, you quietly think about what she said, instead. She starts to talk again.

“You can, like…come over. Only if you want…. My place is right on the water.” Paige avoids your eyes, bracing your answer, a coolness to her voice that she seemingly flipped at will.

“Perfect place to throw my remains.” You roll your eyes at her, she wraps a arm around you suddenly, pulling you in.

“Good point.” She huffs, sarcastically, with a stupid grin, resting her chin on the top of your head. You jab her playfully.

You knew exactly the neighborhood she was talking about. With all the mini mansions, and huge pillars near the front doors, turned away from a private lakeshore. You passed it a few times. Your heart thumped thinking about being inside one. One where surely someone from her family would be.

Her rounded puppy eyes, and the look of willingness to follow you everywhere, had you agreeing before you truly scaled out the situation.

The driveway is so long you figured it burns gas just to drive up it. Big to match the massive house sitting beside it. Even her house stood out amongst others, there wasn’t anything traditional or welcoming about it. It was modern and cold, like a display home you didn’t want to mess up.

Paige snaps you out of your daze with the opening of your side. She takes your hand and guides you to the solid white doors. There’s a pin-pad above the silver knob that her fingers type so fast, you’re not sure exactly which number she’s pressing.

You’re staring wide eyed all around, anxiety making your heart drum in your ears. She hasn’t noticed the clamminess in your palm yet, thoughts of pulling it away before you faced whoever was inside stormed your mind. Walking in as friends already raises questions, you could only imagine the drilling questions reserved for Paiges’ partners.

Before you can make up your mind, she’s practically dragging you inside. Paige tosses her socks and shoes, you follow after her. The dark wood is warm under your feet. Heated floors. The interior design is just as minimalist as the outside. A few family portraits, and pictures of Paige at all ages, are blown up larger than you thought they could be, nestled on walls.

One wall, of the living room you get pulled through, to get outside, holds shelves of memorabilia. Framed jackets, paddles, shirts, brooches, several pictures of people in the same colors, trophies all consistent with a theme of gold and navy blue. A golden lion, with luscious mane, in the middle of every piece. You want to slow down and look, maybe even ask questions. You decide to ask when the time is right, considering how annoyed she’d been with explaining it earlier on the bench.

The glass slides open with a whoosh of air. Of course the backyard has been tended to, with lush grass, and intricate stone arrangements around the base of trees. Vibrant flowers are planted in rows around the balcony, between two trees, near the wooden stairs leading to the pier, there’s a hammock, chairs sprawled out nearby.

Walking briskly down the steps, Paige clasps your fingers with her own, guiding you down. She sits with a soft exhale making small waves with her feet in the water. You’re still mesmerized at seeing a lake so clear. You’d never leave this pier if you were her, you tell Paige. She responds with a dry, closed mouth laugh.

“You can have it. And everything that comes with it..” She looks down into the water, or her reflection, you can’t tell. Your eyes don’t leave her, when you sit down on the worn wood. Half your foot is in, and it’s warm, so you drop the other. Her thigh is flush with yours.

“Not having fun in the castle, princess?” You kick the water lightly, sucking in the fresh air deeply. She rests her head on your shoulder, suddenly, making you perk.

“Not really.”

A snarky remark is at the tip of your tongue, so you bite it. How could having everything handed to you, make you sulk in private? You thought, looking at a few fish swimming just below your toes.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“No you don’t.” You reply quickly, thinking about something else instead just in case.

“Yeah, I do,” Her head lifts up to look at you. There’s a slight hurt behind it.

“Shut up,” You sigh, gently pulling the weight of her head back onto you. “It must be…hard to keep up with.” That’s the only way you can put it, to try and soothe her.

“No, it’s not,” She admits, the sun beating down on the both of you through the leaves of trees overhead. “It’s not like working 40 hours a week, and still barely making it, I know.” Your arm wraps around her.

“Your dad graduated from my dream school,” It blurts out of you like vomit. It was drumming in your mind when you saw a diploma with the signature seal to it, framed alongside the other accomplishments. The words don’t stop. “I’m struggling because, yes the pay sucks, and because I’m saving to go back.” You’re almost gritting your teeth at the confessions. Paige pulls away and you let her.

“Damn. Dream school?….Really?” A silence sets over, you not replying. Paige gets up, standing beside you, wet feet dragging water next to you. She holds her hand out, you look up at her for a moment, her hair reflecting to look gold and white. You finally take it, her pulling you to your feet, and slowly up the steps this time around.

Once you reach the grassy yard, Paige stops dead in her tracks, like a deer, barley breathing out. Your feet start to dry in the blades of grass, by the time Paige speaks. Well, whispers.

“Shit, they’re here..” She’s mumbles under her breath. You’re about to ask who but the hearty laugh of a group of older men comes from the living room. “I forgot that was tonight..” Paige pulls the both of you to the side of the house, by the drive way, your legs barely keep up without a jog. Her fingers tap the pin to a room that’s used for coats, shoes, bags, all amounting to the cost of a small house. Theres three steps up to a black door that Paige opens so slowly, it looks like it pains her. You squeeze her wrist, stopping her.

“What?” She whispers.

“Who are we running from?” You whisper back.

Paige doesn’t respond, letting you hear the chatter of now voices young and old. Then she raises a brow at you, her only answer, twisting back towards the entrance.

“Because of me?” Your voice cracks as you ask. Paige turns around sharply, taking your face in her hands, brows furrowed in seriousness, foreheads nearly pressed together.

“Never. Because. Of you.” Her hushed, stern, tone makes a feeling you don’t recognize in your stomach, flip the desert inside it. “Okay?” This part is soft, and so is her expression. You nod slowly, as if in a trance, not wanting her mouth to move away from yours.

Having to fight back the urge to clash lips, Paige quietly steers you into the kitchen, the door closing behind you with a click.

Her slim shoulders drop, like you’re finally safe, bare sets of damp feet padding to the refrigerator. It’s roomy, and untouched, with the same dark flooring from the living room, where deep voices still laugh and discuss amongst each other loudly. The marble island sits in the middle, between the stove and fridge. A TV is installed outside of the door she digs two seltzers out of.

She gestures for you to follow her. You’re frozen still. Eyes bulging out your skull, social anxiety causing a tremble through you, at the sight of the small group crowding in. It was the other three, one guy shorter, with a mullet, the other taller, skinner than Paige, and of course, the brunette. An evil smirk stretches across her lip fillers, letting you know nothing good will come from this interaction.

It wasn’t them you’d been worried about though, it was the man towering behind Paige, his arms crossed, features scrunched in a frown, similar to Paige’s own. Mr. Bueckers, it has to be.

The way she jumps, when she swivels away from you, makes you think she’s going to drop the cans, instead, she squeezes them until they dent on the sides.

“So nice of you to join us, Paige. With company too?” He lets out a low, unimpressed, whistle.

🦁chapter 2

[dollfacefantasy]

hi! i just finished reading your most recent fic, (amazing btw 💕) and keep reflecting on the part where leon calls reader a little disappointing.. so i was wondering if you could write some angst with DI leon where he’s quite mean and degrading and saying how he’s disappointed and stuff with reader, yk! then leon lovingly fucks reader after as a way to say sorry? (daddy kink included) thank you <3

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon goes a little too hard on you one night during sex. upon realizing how much it hurt you, he knows he has to make it up somehow.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, daddy kink, praise/degradation, age gap (20s, early forties), mentions of spanking & not using safeword

word count: 5.2k

a/n: part 1 <3 took me a while to figure out how i wanted to do this but i hope you guys enjoy.

Something isn't right.

That's all you could think while watching Leon idly stir pasta sauce at the stove. You were perched nearby at the counter, observing him as if he was under experimentation. While to anyone else his actions would appear completely mundane, you knew that this gesture was only the first step in something larger. 

He never cooked you dinner. In the year and six weeks you'd been with him, he'd only ever made you a real meal twice before. Once being six weeks ago on your anniversary, and the other about four months before that, a couple days after you had a fight that nearly blew the wheels off your relationship.

In each case, there was a reason behind it. Whether to celebrate or make amends, neither was an innocuous decision made at random. You weren't even sure that Leon possessed the ability to be spontaneous, but that was a separate issue for another time. The obvious meaning behind his actions was the cause of the splashing of the noodles being poured into the boiling water making your stomach turn. 

Because today wasn't anything special. There wasn't a birthday or an achievement to make an occasion of. That meant it was the other option, the makeup option, and you were extra sure of this because the two of you hadn't exactly been the perfect picture of being in love lately.

"Honey, could you put these on the table for me?" he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

He looks at you over his shoulder to make sure you see the plates and silverware he's referring to.

"Yeah, sure," you respond.

You hop off the stool you were sitting on and grab the things he wanted you to. This was even worse. He wasn't going to let you eat in peace at the counter like you did when he wasn't here. No, he was going to stare you down across the dining table.

But you still do what he asks. Sighing, you haphazardly put a plate down on both ends of the table with silverware bordering each side to match. You grab glasses next and put them there too. Once everything is in its perfect place, you plop down at your seat, deciding to wait here until he joins you. This chair was out of view from the kitchen which meant you could get a few moments alone to brace yourself.

It's not that anything terrible was going to happen. It was just going to be a conversation. But it would be a relationship conversation, an emotional conversation, something neither of you were good at.

You weren't good at it because you'd never been good at it. Ever since you were a kid, the slightest spotlight put on your feelings had barbs forming in your throat and stinging, salty tears brimming your lash line. Everything had to be coaxed out of you, or you were sure to break down. 

Leon wasn't good at it because his version of a conversation came across more as an interrogation. When talking about feelings, he never wanted to talk about his own. He'd never share what was going on in his own head, he only wanted to know what was going on in yours. You were the one struggling; therefore, you were the one he needed to help. You were the mission to be resolved.

You supposed that was consistent with everything else about the man you loved. He always wanted to be the one in control, the one managing the details of your life. It came from the desire to protect. He showed his love by keeping you safe, keeping you from being like him. He went away for weeks on end following orders. When he came home, he liked to be the one doling them out.

And that was how you liked it too. You weren't some unwilling victim. When he offered to try this stuff out with you, you couldn't have been happier. You liked being told to do this and do it now. You liked the security of his lap, the promise that no matter how bad things got he would be there to wipe away your tears and make it all better.

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. You were pretty sure you knew what the specific topic of conversation would be tonight. You'd been distant lately. You could already hear his voice ringing through your head telling you that. For the past couple weeks, you hadn't been you. You hadn't been as sweet on him, kissing his cheeks and stroking his hair while you cuddled. Hadn't been hanging off his body or climbing all over him every chance you got. Hadn't been as eager to squeal daddy when he made you cum.

You knew why, and you knew he didn't. That was by design though. You didn't want him to know. This whole situation had spiraled so far out of control, and you just wanted to sweep your mess under the rug and forget about it. You didn't need daddy's help cleaning it up.

It shouldn't even be that big of a deal. Nothing that bad had happened.

The night that had your panties in a bunch happened a few weeks ago. You'd had a shitty day and so had Leon. You were looking to act out, and he was looking to punish.

You gave him some attitude. A few eye rolls and sharp responses when he asked you things. Looking back, you think maybe you should've sensed he was in a bad mood and just dropped it. That's when the other part of you chimes in and wonders why he couldn't do the same for you. Why couldn't he feel out your emotions and realize you needed him? But then you start to feel emotionally stunted, expecting your boyfriend to be a mind reader. 

This internal conversation never gets very far.

That night he hadn't read your mind. He'd taken you over his lap and given you a spanking. It was pretty standard. You'd had over a dozen of those by his hand at this point. The slaps weren't the problem. His palm hit you all the same, bringing the sting you craved. The part that stuck with you and created this wedge was just him. It was how he spoke, the way he looked at you. 

You could still see the eyes you fell in love with looking at you with nothing but disappointment.

You could still hear him growling in your ear when he had you bent in half and fucked you afterwards. He had you face down on the couch, holding your head against the cushion while he jackhammered into you.

"If you want my attention, all you have to do is ask. You know that. But you never fucking do it. You play these games with me. You think I wanna put up with that? You think I come home and wanna hear you bitching at me too?"

You weren't even sure what about it had got you. It was harsh, sure, but it was supposed to be.

"I want you to be a good girl. To behave. I don't want to deal with a bratty little slut."

He'd said stuff like that before. But in that moment it didn't feel like daddy was mad at you, it felt like your boyfriend was. It didn't feel like you were naughty or misbehaving. It felt like you were pathetic.

"You want daddy's attention so bad, next time you say please like you're supposed to. Don't make me go through the chore of disciplining your ass again. I'm over it."

By some miracle you still got to cum. He came inside you like normal. When he pulled out he'd fallen back onto the cushions of the couch to catch his breath. He lied there, fingers wiping the sweat from his brow as if he'd put in a hard day's work. You sat there unsure of what to do with yourself. After he'd come down a little more, he'd pulled you close, kissed all over your face like normal and taken to you to bed. But you'd laid there with your eyes open, trying not to cry as he snored against the back of your neck.

You're snapped out of your memories by the thud of the pot on the dining room table. Leon stood a few feet away from you, oven mitts on both hands as he placed the dish between your seats. He cracks a smile at you when you look up and meet his eyes.

"I made way too much. I hope you're hungry," he teases.

You respond with a weak grin of your own. Sitting up straight in your chair, you blink a few times and rub your face as if that'd be enough to clear away the past and magically fix everything.

Two of his fingers duck below your chin and guide you to look at him again.

"You ok?" he asks. His voice is tender like it is most of the time when he speaks to you.

"Yeah. I'm just tired," you tell him with a more convincing smile. You're not sure if it works, but he seems to accept it for now.

"Alright," he says, leaning down and kissing the corner of your mouth.

He takes his seat across the table, opposite yours. You get the privilege of serving your portion first. You shovel a helping of pasta onto your plate. The red sauce spreads on your plate, and you grab a piece of toast to soak some of it up. Leon repeats your actions and gets some of the food for himself. He had made too much. You'd definitely have leftovers, but that was nothing to complain about. He made dinner before these conversations for a reason. Like anything else, he was a good cook when he wanted to be.

The meal starts off silent as you had expected it to. You both eat instead of trying to talk. Forks hitting plates and bread crunching into two fills the room in the place of words. A sense of calm comes over you, but you know it won't last forever. Eventually, Leon does break the silence with some basic questions. How was your day, wasn't this summer heat killer, did you see he fixed that thing in the garage you'd asked him to. It's fine. Just fine like everything had been for the past couple weeks.

The conversation reaches another lull though, and this is when he goes for the killing strike.

"Baby, I think we need to talk," he sighs.

You raise your eyebrows as if you hadn't been expecting this.

"About what?" you ask after swallowing your mouthful of pasta.

Now he raises his eyebrows. He's not disappointed, but he knows you're playing dumb and doesn't appreciate it. It's affectionate though. It doesn't look like it did a few weeks ago.

"I know something's bothering you," he tries softly.

"I told you I was tired," you shrug and look away.

"It's not just today though. It's been more than a few days," he says.

You sigh and put your fork down. You're conscious of every part of your reaction in an effort to avoid looking pouty or melting into tears.

"I don't know. The past few weeks I just haven't felt great. It's not like a crisis situation or something," you say.

"Then tell me about it, sweetheart," he says, trying to will you to look up at him with his gentle tone, "I want to help, but I don't know what's wrong. Every time I try, you pull away."

"Not on purpose," you add. It's an important defense to you.

"I'm not saying it's on purpose," he says. You can tell he's trying to be as non-confrontational as possible. Maybe he does pick up on your emotions a little bit. "All I'm saying is that I'm worried about you."

And with one little sentence, you feel the spikes starting to poke through. You look down and place your palm on your eyes. You felt ten times more pathetic than you had a few weeks ago. He can see you're getting closer to breaking, so he continues.

"You can talk to me. If you need something or I did something, I just want to make it better," he continues, "I don't like not knowing what's going on in that pretty head. I like it even less seeing you look so sad."

Your lip wobbles. A last resort to hold in the barrage of emotions. "It's nothing," you choke out.

"It's not nothing if it has you this upset," he counters, speaking quietly, "Just talk to me, little love."

That's all it takes, and you can't hold it anymore. Tears leak from your water line and draw limpid streaks down your face. You bite your lip to nip any audible cries in the bud. It doesn't matter though, he still sees the small droplets of water.

"My baby," he coos, "C'mere."

You rise to your feet in an instant and round the table. He pushes his chair back and takes you into his lap. You're cradled by his warmth, safe against his chest as he rubs your back. As much as you loved mentally complaining about his interrogations, maybe this is what you needed. Maybe this worked for you.

"You're ok. I'm right here," he murmurs. 

He kisses your hairline and cups the back of your neck to keep you close. He lets you cry it out before attempting any more questions. Once it seems you've settled though, the spotlight is back on you.

"What's wrong, sunshine?" he whispers.

Try as he might, you still couldn't bring yourself to say the words. It was like two wires in your brain that just did not physically connect. Expressing pain was hard enough, but expressing pain that he caused? This inability killed you, it really did. Thinking about it brings another sob from your lips. You wanted to beat your own ass till she had enough of a spine to just say a few simple words so this could all be over.

You can't do that though, so Leon continues on with his tender questions.

"Can you tell me when you started feeling this way?" he asks with a hint of hesitation.

There that was one you could answer. "Few weeks ago."

He nods, taking any information he could get as crucial.

"Alright... is there something stressing you out?" he asks.

You shake your head. Technically there was something stressing you out, but while you were breaking down, 'stressing out' was code for responsibilities, so the answer is no.

"Problems with your friends?"

Another head shake.

"Family?"

No.

"...Me?"

You almost shake your head again. You could swing just making something up on the spot. But that wouldn't be right to him. He'd done the work of the guessing game and come to the conclusion fair and square. You nod yes.

A whirlpool of emotion forms in his pupils, but it's almost like he knew he was to blame. He nods and sighs. His hand doesn't stop rubbing your back.

"Ok," he breathes, "You gotta give me a hint, honey."

You found words coming a bit easier now that he had led you this far.

"Remember a few weeks ago when you got mad at me?" you rasp and look at him with your watery eyes.

He blinks at you. "We got into a fight a few weeks ago?" he asks. 

There's genuine confusion in his tone. He didn't remember. Or at least this day didn't stick out in his mind. He hadn't been dwelling on it since it happened, hadn't been wondering if it meant something greater in the context of your relationship. You weren't sure if that brought you relief or frustration.

"No. It was like... it was when I had a bad day and I came home and you were watching that stupid cop show. And I kept talking. And you told me to shut up. And I said you were only watching it cause you didn't know how to change the channel," you list off some of the events that led to the infamous incident.

He smiles upon remembering that little joke. He found it funny. Then why did he get so mean?

"Don't tell me you've been mad cause I wouldn't let you watch your show instead," he teases.

"No, it's not that. Remember after when you spanked me? And then we fucked on the couch..." you sniffle.

He pauses to think about your words. The gears turn in his head, the pieces fall into place. The lightbulb goes off in his eyes.

"Oh yeah. I remember that," he says. He remembers, but he doesn't understand. "What about it?"

His thumb swipes a few tears away while waiting for the answer you were still trying to formulate.

"Well... like... I don't know," you start. You felt ridiculous verbalizing it. "You just kinda hurt my feelings."

His brows furrow. He still doesn't get it.

"Hurt your feelings?" he repeats, "I didn't hit you too hard, did I? You know if that ever happens you have the word. You say it, and I stop for you in a heartbeat. You know that."

"It didn't hurt like that... it's just some of the stuff you said," you say. The urge to pull away is starting to come back.

"Sweetheart," he says. His voice is dripping with concern. He didn't remember saying anything bad enough that you'd still be twisted into knots over it multiple weeks later. "You know you can use the word for that kind of thing too. Please tell me you know that."

"I know that," you start, feeling a little ashamed. This was exactly why you didn't want to talk about this.

"If I say something that hurts you this bad, you need to tell me. Right when I say it. You tell me to stop. You let me remind you it's not real," he says, quiet but firm. He holds you tighter, unintentionally squeezing more tears out of you. "I only say things I think will get you off. I don't say them to hurt you."

You hide your face in his neck. You felt so fucking pathetic.

"Hey, hey, hey. Shhh. It's ok. I just... I want you to understand, baby," he murmurs. He rocks you back and forth on his lap a bit before speaking again. "Can you tell me why you didn't use the word?"

Leon prayed with everything he had that it wasn't because you were scared of him. If that was it, you might as well pick up the fork off the table and jam it right into his heart. You don't answer, and it worries him. All he gets from you is the feeling of tears dribbling down his throat.

"Did it not hurt till afterwards? Did you think I wouldn't stop?" he coaxes.

You shake your head. "Cause... because I don't want you to think I can't take it," you weep.

While he's relieved it's not what he feared, he didn't expect this.

"What do you mean? You can't take it?" he repeats.

"I don't want you to think I'm a bratty little girl. I told you that stuff was ok, and I don't wanna tap out and make you feel all guilty and stuff," you cry, the words rushing from your mouth.

He sighs and his eyes close for a second. He did feel like a piece of shit now, but with what you just said, he didn't want you knowing that.

"My sweet girl," he says against your head while rubbing your back, "I would never think that about you. The word is there for you to use it whenever you want. It doesn't matter if it makes me worry I hurt you. That's not a bad thing."

You cry more into his neck, clinging to him as if you're trying to merge into one.

"I just don't wanna disappoint you," you sob.

"Baby, baby, baby," he whispers, holding you tight against his chest and rocking you again, "You never disappoint me. You don't. Not when you act bratty, not when you break a rule. That shit is all a game. It's a game, and if you don't like it, we don't have to play it.

"I know you're sensitive. I know you get emotional. I'm with you knowing that stuff. It doesn't make me think of you as an obligation. I like being daddy, but it doesn't make me think of you like that. If it makes you feel like that, we can stop. You're more important than any of it."

"I do like it," you weep, "I just... I don't want you to think I'm pathetic."

"I don't think that. I never have," he says and kisses your temple, "You're my baby. My pretty girl. My favorite person on this planet."

You sniffle and snake your arms around him tighter.

"Pathetic or disappointment never cross my mind when I look at you. Half the time I don't even have thoughts when I see you. You're so fucking gorgeous you take 'em all away," he whispers.

He nudges your head out of the crook of his neck so he can see you. His lips land on your forehead first. Then your nose. Then each cheek. And finally your lips.

"Look at me," he whispers.

You do what he asks and look up at him. You look into his eyes. These were the eyes you fell in love with.

"You are not a disappointment," he says before a kiss, "You are not pathetic. I love you. I love you when you're being good or when you're being a little shit. I love when you wanna call me daddy, but you'd still be mine if you decided you never wanted to say that word again."

"I still wanna call you daddy," you sniffle and give him a small smile.

He chuckles and returns the expression. "That was a quick decision," he teases, "Doesn't sound like you thought it through."

"I did. I still want my daddy," you say and put your head down on his shoulder.

"Good. Cause I'm right here," he says softly, "Daddy's got you."

The problem wasn't totally resolved in Leon's mind. Never again did he want to cause you weeks worth of stress over something like this. But for now, he was happy to see you smile. He could accept this temporary fix. He nuzzles your neck and places a few soft kisses on your throat.

"I think daddy needs to make it up to his baby for being so mean to her. For making her cry like that," he whispers.

A warm tingle branches out through your spine and curves around your ribs. You scoot closer to him in his lap and shrug, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Don't give me that shrug. You know you like being spoiled. Being the center of attention," he whispers.

"Yeah..." you whisper in his ear.

He grunts as he rises to his feet with you in his arms. Your legs lock around his waist before his feet even start moving. He'd clean up the table later. Right now was about you.

He carries you through the house, tosses you onto the bed. You squeak at your glide through the air. He pulls his shirt off and drops his pants before climbing on top of you. Always efficient your Leon.

The warm lengths of his muscular limbs encompass you against the mattress. He starts by kissing you on the mouth, but his lips soon trail down to your neck. Tongue and teeth brush over the balmy skin of your neck. He nips a few hickeys along the curve of your throat, listening for every little hitch in your breath or stifled moan.

"Always with those pretty little noises..." he mumbles against your skin.

He inhales you before moving away, gets his fix of your scent before his hands push your shirt over your head and toss to the floor with his. His hands rub up and down your side, gently squeezing and massaging while his mouth migrates towards your chest. He lays kisses at the tops of your breasts. He can feel your heart pattering against his lips. It drives him crazy, feeling what he does to you down to that level.

Your legs wrap around his waist and pull his body closer. You couldn't get close enough after the weeks of distance. He groans as his crotch comes flush against yours. It's as if he can feel the heat of your center through the layers of cloth that separate you.

He kisses between your breasts, forcing himself to remove your bra before he thinks about your pants. He nuzzles the two spheres of flesh with all the care he holds in his body. He'd never been good with words, and the last few weeks proved as much. Showing you physically how he feels is easier.

"Haven't been able to kiss my girls properly in too long," he murmurs and glances up at you, cocky smile in his eyes.

"You're stupid," you laugh quietly.

"Hey. That's not a nice word, princess. Not one you should be calling your daddy," he chides before giving one of your nipples a few sucks.

You sigh contently and arch into the wet embrace of his mouth. "Sorry daddy," you smile.

"I'm sure you are."

He gives your tits some more attention, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't antsy to get his fingers wet. They fumble with the button on your shorts before he lifts your legs and practically tears the garment loose. He kisses your ankle and down your calf to your knee where his hands take over and press them up against your torso. He can feel your slick creating a wet patch on the front of his boxers and ruts into it. His cock grows stiffer beneath the fabric as if trying to get to you.

"You ready for me, babydoll? Dripping like a good girl? Gonna be nice and easy for daddy to slide right in," he says while leaning down to be close to you.

You nod eagerly, your nose bumping against his.

"Nothing makes it better than having daddy inside, hm?" he coos.

"Don't need anything else," you say and sling your arms around his neck.

That's all he needs to hear. He pushes his underwear down his legs enough so that his cock is free. You feel it slot between your puffy outer folds and prod at your entrance.

He slips it inside, and you both groan. Your head tilts back, allowing him to kiss at your neck some more. You'd had sex since that fight, but this was the first time you were feeling full. The first time you were feeling like his again.

"Daddy," you whine and grab at him. Just what he'd been missing.

His hips start to rock. The bones in his pelvis press right up against your ass. He fucks you deep and slow at first. Each thrust glides over a myriad of sweet spots. Every time he pulls back, you just want him to push right back in.

"That's it, honey. Tell daddy how much you missed him," he grunts.

You don't say it with words. You tighten up around him, squeezing his dick like if it gets out you'll die. The sensation wrangles a moan out of him, and his face drops into your neck. He digs his forearms into the mattress and uses the leverage to pump himself into you harder.

"My perfect, perfect girl. Don't know what I'd do without you," he whispers.

Your eyes flutter shut. You just listen to the sound of his panting, feel his heart beating for you. Your thighs tremble while pressing into his waist. Your toes curl as his hips strike the right angle to batter right where you need him.

"You could never disappoint me," he mutters. You feel his lips moving against your throat. "I love you, sweet girl. Nothing you do could ever change that."

The words are almost enough to make you get all weepy again, but you'd cried enough for one day. Instead your body latches onto him tighter.

"Harder," you whimper.

"You sure, baby?" he hums.

Your nod comes quickly. "Need to feel it more. Need it harder."

So he gives it to you harder. His eyes clamp shut and shroud his vision in darkness. He focuses on thrusting hard, clapping his skin against yours over and over. He pounds into you while pressing his face harder against you too.

You show your gratitude with a whine. His shaft hits just right, fills you up just the way you'd been aching for.

"Almost there, daddy- Can I-" you stumble over words.

"Yeah, sweetheart. You don't gotta ask tonight. You cum when you're ready," he says.

That's how you know he's really sorry. He keeps fucking into you until he feels your limbs fizzling from the proximity to release. Everything about you gets shaky. Your breaths are ragged and labored, your hands vibrate while trying to clutch at him.

"Fuck fuck fuck," you whimper.

The spark goes off inside you, and you cum hard. Your body goes taut and rolls through the waves of euphoria. He can't resist your walls pulsating around him. It's only a handful of seconds before his tummy is fluttering and his seed is spilling from him into your cunt.

"Inside, daddy," you whine as if he needed the direction.

"That's what I'm doing, baby," he grunts through clenched teeth.

He drools against your neck while his hips twitch and the last few drops leak from him. The saliva gets smeared in the messy kisses he leaves on you while pulling out. He rolls over but scoops you up with him, cradling you against his chest in a position that isn't necessarily comfortable but you love anyway.

A series of over the top kisses land on your face. You scrunch your nose and shake your head.

"Quit it. I already forgave you," you giggle, "You don't gotta slobber on me."

"Tsk tsk. Ungrateful," he tuts affectionately, "You know if I didn't give you these, you'd be begging for 'em."

"Mmm... maybe," you acquiesce with a little smile.

"Sure, sure. Maybe. Silly girl," he mumbles and nuzzles your cheek.

The playful touches continues for a moment before he calms down and softens up. You look towards his eyes, and his fingers sweep down your cheek.

"You're ok now?" he asks.

You nod. "We're ok now."

To give him the final shred of reassurance that you could, you stick out your pinky. He rolls his eyes, but sticks his out to and hooks it with yours. He knew you were back to yourself since your inability to be serious had made a reappearance. He smacks a kiss on your lips to seal the deal. He can feel you smiling into it.

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: getting off these drafts. btw i heard kelvin's next 😮‍💨

DILEMMA. | Aaron Pierre.

Rich! Terry Richmond x Black! Female Reader.

Warnings: MDNI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( fingering (fem receiving), penetrat!on (unprotected p in v, don't do that!), water sports, slapping/hitting, degradation), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) angst, guilt (you're a cheater, bitch) slight daddy kink if you squint. Not proofread. Terry referred to as Terrell.

Summary: in which an engaged woman and a rich man fall into a heavy affair, she's hesitant.

i be so in love with your girlfriend,

and she loves it too, and i love it too

when we rendezvous, we get comfortable.

"yeah, I miss you too," you cooed softly into the phone, your stomach churning at how honest your voice sounded despite your despicable actions.

You probably would've meant it if it were any other day, if you were any other place. Maybe if you were actually in London, like you told your fiancé you'd be before you landed in Toronto, you'd mean it. But every time you came back to this country—the city rather, you never meant it.

Your truths given to another man all at once, that you had no choice but to lie to the man you'd planned to spend the rest of your life with. You looked at the blinging engagement ring on your left hand and grimaced. You halfway listened to the man muttering on the other end of the phone and half of your attention, scoured through your head as you paced the small area of the hotel balcony you were standing on.

"Alright, babe," he hummed on the other line, "just wanted to make sure you landed alright, I love you."

You shuddered at how genuine he sounded. You loved him back too—but even you battled with that sentiment, you had another man making his way up to the hotel room in a country you weren't even supposed to be in.

Maybe if you'd forgiven him for all those mistakes he made over the course of your relationship—maybe if you went to counseling like your parents and friends advised you to you wouldn't be sneaking off on the love of your life.

"I love you too, baby," you feigned a smile, hoping that he could hear how genuine you tried to be, "can I call you back later? Everyone's checking in right now."

He subtly agreed with you on the other end, telling you to call him back later when you settled in before ending the call. Thank god for your job. Had you not been a flight attendant, this shit probably would've been a little harder to pull off.

That was the issue though, is that all this shit was getting harder to pull off. You loved your fiance, sure, but you were in love with Terrell. And that was never supposed to happen.

None of this was supposed to happen.

Six months ago you were supposed to go on a quick girls trip with your homegirls. Nowhere too far, but nowhere too close. So it was decided upon on Toronto. You'd been to Toronto countless times before on layovers and international flights, which is how you knew about how lively the city was. You and a few of your favorite coworkers leaving the hotel on the few nights you spent there, hitting up the clubs and after hour bars.

But you weren't supposed to meet Terry.

There you and your homegirls went, all strutting through Revival as if it wasn't the biggest club in Toronto. You'd been here once before, briefly with a few coworkers, but you still gawked how lovely it was. Looked straight out of a Vegas strip catalogue, and who owned that very busy, popular club? Terrell indeed.

Having drinks being sent to you and your homegirls section. And not just little shots—you had a bottle of Louis XIII sent to your table by a gorgeous bottle girl, you and your homegirls gaped at her. Who the fuck and how the fuck were yall about to pay for a $4,000 bottle of cognac? But she set your fears aside, claiming that it on the house, and was from the boss.

You and your homegirls bristled in happiness after that. Where the fuck was the boss on your first visit here? But nevertheless, you chalked it up to the people of Toronto being courteous to tourists. Up until you met Terrell on the dance floor. Oh, and you didn't fuck around when it came to that, you were two years fresh out of college, your party days were not behind you.

You thought he was simple club goer too, just finding you on the dance floor and making conversation, shouting in each other's ears over the music. He was handsome of course, eyes piercing, tall, full lips, dressed in nothing but designer. It wasn't until he asked you if you and homegirls liked the bottle of LOUIS XIII he sent to your section, that your slightly intoxicated mind put the dots together. You thanked him profusely, and told him how much all of you were enjoying his club.

And although he seemed happy to hear that, he seemed happier to know what exactly only you had planned after this. You'd been out the game so long you'd forgot what flirting looked like, but even you knew this was flirting. You told him about your Fiancé, and that seemed to slightly deter him (not really) but somehow you and your homegirls still managed to take turns hanging out the sunroof of his Mercedes Benz as he ripped through the streets of Toronto after the club closed.

And that was six months ago.

And within those six months you'd visited Toronto more times than you could remember, without coworkers, and without your homegirls, and simply with Terry.

At first it was fun. Harmless fun, you thought. Here you were, a man with far too much money fawning over you. You were far too loyal (at the time) to give him your number, and instead had given him your moderately sized instagram. There he damn near never missed a story, constant heart eyes, constant attention. Attention and flirting your man hadn't given to you since he courted you. That weakened you.

Before you knew it you were on constant first class flights from your city to Toronto, constant sex and low key outings were you and Terry's favorite pastimes when you did come for your brief visits.

But over the next few months you'd became invested. The little gifts had become more meaningful. Once just flowers, and cards and small designer items had become more than just materialistic and more like keepsakes. You cherished them. And although nothing had been concrete in your little affair, you assumed it was all through good fun. Here this man was, older, rich, single and fine—he could pick any single woman in Toronto, but he chose you. Engaged, committed. So maybe he knew he didn't have to commit?

You remembered the way he didn't even flinch when you told him you were engaged to be married, he simply just kept his lingering gaze on you and apologized. The conversation seemingly still seemed to flow, and he still asked you to ride with him afterward. You, not willing to leave your homegirls, and disrespect your engagement (at the time, slut) agreed, under the condition that your homegirls rode too.

Yet, here you were now. Riding him alone. And as bad as you wanted to cut it off, a part of you, bigger than you'd wanted to admit, didn't want to. You liked how free you felt with him, how natural and different things felt. How cherished you felt.

You hadn't even realized that he'd came in, finally, it was his hotel suite after all, paid and reserved for by him. But he was courteous enough to tell the Ritz Carlton front desk employees that his girlfriend would be arriving before him, securing you a keycard of your own.

"How long you got?"

You jumped at the sound of his voice shaking you from your own wandering mind, eyes flickering over to Terry leaning on the frame of the open sliding door. You understood his absence of pleasantries and greetings, y'all were way past that.



He looked so handsome though, per usual. He was always dressed to T's. Even now, black durag adorning his head, a black long sleeved Under Armor compression shirt enhanced his already perfect physique, a pair of matching compression pants under the mismatch Nike basketball shorts he wore. Or maybe he just made everything he wore look good.

"Two days," you said slowly hands gripping the railing of the balcony, averting your attention back out onto the view of downtown Toronto in front of you.

A small bout of silence stretched between the two of you, the air charged with a little bit of everything. Sexual tension, apprehension, passion—like always. But, your hesitance and distance added onto that, and Terry could feel that.

You sighed in contentment against him when he wrapped his broad arms around your waist, pressing your shorter frame into his from behind. His lips finding that sweet spot just behind your ear. "You good?" He mumbled against your skin, persisting kisses there.

You rested your head against his lowered shoulder, his face tucked into the crook of your neck as you hesitantly answered him, giving him a small "yes". To which he knew wasn't true.

And in his mind when you were with him, thinking was void. That's why he handled everything, from the travel, to the hotels, to the outings. He made sure he was your escape. He knew the wifely duties you had back in the states, cooking, cleaning, working—that's the shit your main man put you through. He didn't.

He could tell the night met you, you needed a well deserved break. You seemed tense from the moment he approached you, he literally watched it all melt away during the duration of your conversation, you were already pretty, too pretty. But you looked even prettier when you were relaxed. So, that's what he strived to see.

"What you thinkin' about, mama?" He hummed against your already hot flesh. "You know I don't condone that shit."

You laughed at how serious he sounded, prompting him to chuckle right behind you. You raised your shoulder from his head, craning your head up at his now lifted frame behind yours with furrowed brows, "you don't condone that? Me thinking?"

"You know that," he casually responded, "why you think I handle everything? You do that shit back home with that nigga. Here, I don't need all that." He mumbled before using his opposing hand to tap lightly against your temple, softly kissing your lips.

And that was the problem. Him handling everything. Not wanting you to think and enjoy your time together. That's what made you feel free, that's what had you feeling all types of feelings about him. But you couldn't voice that, just staring back up at him with that dazed stare you gave him every time he kissed you.

You didn't speak until he led you back into the spacious suite, back to the bedroom where the huge king bed was that you belly flopped on when you first arrived. You didn't speak until he started removing the Swarvorski pumps he'd bought you on your last visit, grasping your left ankle and lifting it up to his lips, pressing summer kisses up your calves. You teeth sinker into your bottom lip, watching him as he watched you. Everything else melted away for a moment. Just a moment though.

"Terrell," you huffed as your thoughts overcrowded your mind again, jerking your leg away from his lips, though it still remained secure in his grasp, "this is wrong." If only your fiancé hadn't called and ruined the very sexy mood you were in, you could do this. You would've done this.

Terry recoiled at the reference of his real name with you, and the fact that you were back with this again. He hadn't heard those three words up until the third month, and here you hear three months later singing the same tune again. He sat your leg down gently, getting up from his kneeled position on the floor. "Nah, don't start that," he firmly replied joining you on the bed in one swift motion. Pressing his lips against your non-responsive ones, trailing his kisses over to your cheek, jawline and then finally your neck before you pushed away from him.

"I'm serious," you muttered quietly, folding your arms over your chest, "I can't keep doing this to my fiancé, I'm about to get married in a few months. This shit is wrong, and you know that." You gave him a side glance, chewing anxiously on your bottom lip.

Terry sighed, his eyes on you in a near blank stare. This shit was tuning him out. Where was all this shit coming from again? "You came all the way out here to tell me that? What you sayin'?" He asked you, brows slightly furrowed as he looked over your solemn side profile.

You were silent for a moment, mind racing. You dropped your arms from their folded position, fiddling with your fingers and wringing them out in nervous jitters. "We can't do this...any more." You said slowly. You weren't strong enough to do this three months ago, but maybe now? Terry's brows now no longer furrowed, he looked at you with now a completely blank stare, almost like your words weren't toward him. He nodded slowly as you continued though. "But that doesn't mean that I don't wanna see you anymore—we can still be friends, I can still come see you sometimes." You foolishly said.

"Yeah?" Terry asked eyes trailing over your seated figure, hungrily. His hand didn't hesitate to retreat to your thigh, rubbing the thin material of your dress up your thighs. "We can be friends?"

Your eyes dropped from his gaze, to his wandering hands. Skin feeling hot all over again, you resisted the urge to close your eyes, not trusting yourself to speak you nodded slowly. Silly girl, really.

"Yeah?" He asked you once again, brow raising in mock surprise. "You sound so sure, mama. How can we be friends and I can't even keep my hands off of you?" His hands trailing up, up, till they got to the waistband of your pretty images, his long digits slipping inside.

You huffed as soon as his middle finger started circling your hard clit, eyes fluttering closed as you fought to give him a response in return, "you'll learn," you huffed through his subtle, teasing on your clit.

He laughed in response to your statement, "you know that shit ain't true. Don't even know why you fightin' this shit to be honest," he coyly responded, finger sliding up and down slowly from the hood of your clit down to your entrance before slowly slipping his finger inside of you, feeling how snug you felt around him. He mocked your moan of pleasure, watching as your head fell against his shoulder, a small whimper slipping past your lips.

"It's wrong, can't do this, you 'bout to get married," he repeated your phrases back to him, tone patronizing, "but this pussy so wet for me," he mumbled pressing a kiss to your forehead, resting his lips there before slipping another finger in, eyes darting between your expression and his hand in your panties.

Fingers curling and pushing so deliciously deep, your brows furrowed as you gasped sharply, a soft pretty moan following right after. Terry persisted his soft kisses against your forehead as he continued his assault with his fingers, pace picking up ever so slightly, sounds of your sticky arousal coating his fingers filled the spacious bedroom. You nodded your head at the immense pleasure you felt, soft gasps slipping past your lips with every thrust, "yes, yes, yesss," you chanted to nothing in particular, eyes squeezed shut as your hands instinctively wrapping around his working wrist.

His free hand lazily knocking them away, almost as if you were disturbing him. You whined, feeling his fingers increase in speed, the sound of nothing but your arousal filling your ears as your moans and chanting became silenced behind your quickly approaching orgasm.

Terry took note of your shallow breathing, frozen figure and agape mouth, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead, "there we go," he mumbled against your skin, "cum. Cum for me," he rushed out, fingers slipping out of you to rub in rapid, vigorous circles against your clit. Juices spurting out of you seemingly on command. "Gimme all that shit, stop playin' wimme." He hummed grabbing your slackened jaw, fingers still effortlessly working against you, juices still squirting out of you wildly. Capturing the moans you were finally able to let out right into his mouth.

He didn't stop kissing you, or his lewd actions with his finger until he was sure you had finally rode out your orgasm, trembling and all. He slipped his hand out of your panties, fingers dripping in your essence as you both watched. "Look at that," he mumbled, "came so fuckin' hard." He said before rubbing his fingers against your parted, swollen lips, before slipping them inside your wet mouth. Fingers fucking your wet mouth and throat as he watched, teeth sunken into his bottom lip looking at you with hungry eyes at you tasting yourself.

He slipped his fingers out of your mouth all at once, immediately slapping them against the seat of your nose soaked panties. "Can't make you do that if we just friends."

You hadn't got a chance tip properly take off any of your clothes. He didn't give you a chance. Your dress pushed up above your exposed titties, bra hanging lazily off of one arm, panties pushed to the side. He was so hungry to ravage you, almost like if he'd given you a chance to undress you could change your mind. You were a lost cause as soon as he got you to that bed tbh.

"Stop playin' wimme," he looked up at you, face stern, a stern look in his eyes, hand slapping against your left ass cheek with a hard force, leaving a lasting sting behind you would've cried at hadn't you been so turned on, a needy moan leaving your lips as you slumped against him, "ride that dick right."

You whimpered as he pushed you back, your hands grasping both of his shoulders as you stabilized yourself on the tips of your toes before lifting and slowly lowering yourself onto him, you didn't dare take all of him, what you were taking was just enough, hitting that spot that you liked so much. You kept this up for as long as you could, avoiding his impatient glare.

"Yeah, you playin' with that dick," he mumbled irritancy clear in his tone, both hands gripping either sides of your fleshy hips forcing you down onto him, the stretch coming with that perfect sting, the force of him filling you hurt so good, a guttural moan erupted from you, eyes glazing over as you stared down at him with parted lips, "you know who you with, ride that shit how I like."

The casualty in his tone was abstract to the dirty things he was saying to you, that alone had you leaking all over him. Your whimpers and moans fell into synchronization with the creaking bed, squelching of your pussy and your skin slapping together as you took all of him. Terry's grunts and groans matching yours, his eyes averting back and forth between your pleasurably contorted expressions to where you met at the base of his dick. You felt your self started to slink against his upright figure, arms wrapping around his neck as you buried your face in his neck muffling your audible moans as you continued your rushed pace.

But he had to see you. Had to watch all the pretty faces you made when he made you take him deep like this. Both his hands grasped your torso, lightly pushing you away from him, halting your movements causing him to furrow his brows. "I ain't say stop, keep ridin' that dick," he affirmed, sending another sharp slap to your ass. You whined at the sting, starting to bounce again, ignoring the aching in your calves. Him filling you up once again making your mind a fuzzy mess.

"Just like that," he groaned, looking up at you leaning forward to catch one of your pierced mounds into his mouth, lips latching on softly, the sight making you huff through a moan your own eyes fluttering closed as you continued riding him. He pulled back with a loud pop, eyes watching you intently. "Look at you, fuckin' yourself on my dick like this. But you done with me, yeah?" He asked voice low and uneven as you sunk yourself down to his sticky base where you met, a shallow breath slipping past your parted lips. "You done with me?" He asked a bit louder, his eyes boring into your soft ones.

You could barely answer, mind fuzzy as you fucked your self into an empty oblivion. Eyes closing and then promptly opening, only to roll back. His hand grabbed your jaw roughly, making your brown eyes flutter open, a series of heavy breaths slipping past your lips as you tried to focus on his gaze. "Say the wrong thing and watch I don't let you cum on this dick, you heard me."

"I'm not done," you managed to slur out, voice small and breathy as your hands wrapping around his wrist, for leverage at your now burning knees.

Your quiet response obviously not satisfactory to Terry. "You wanna cum on this dick?" He asked you, still holding onto your slackened jaw.

"Yesss!"

"So let me hear you say that shit. You done with me?" He repeated more firmly.

"Im not done, daddy!" You cried out shaking your head in his grasp vigorously, the tears burning behind your now shut eyes threatening to spill over as you continued trying to fight off your quickly approaching orgasm.

"I know," he cooed, pressing open mouthed kisses all over chest, "I know, baby. You love fuckin' this dick don't you?" He muttered against your skin. Hand dropping from your jaw to join his other in wandering all over your body. You felt so hot, everywhere. Everything felt so good and like too much all at once.

"Yessss!"

"Yeah you do," he hummed through a moan of his own, "keep fuckin' me just like that. Such a nasty lil bitch, keep goin," he groaned.

You opened your tear filled eyes, soft and unfocused as you gazed down at him almost pathetically, "wanna cum daddy. wanna cum so bad," you whimpered.

"m' almost there, baby," he rushed out, eyes focused on the mess you were currently making on him, breathing ragged, "keep goin."

You could tell exactly how close he was when he started thrusting into you, luckily for you anyways, your knees were burning, calves aching, you didn't know how much longer you could've kept up.

"Oh my god," you repeated over and over through a series of heavy breaths and moans, your eyes low, vision blurred as tears ran down your soaked cheeks, "I'm gonna cum! Daddy im gonna—"

"Cum," he breathlessly mumbled, lips parted, "cum on my dick. Let me cum in you, mama."

"Cum in me daddy!" You rushed out, mind completely fuzzy and blank. "I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" You frantically announced, slouching against Terry's broad figure as he continued his sloppy, hard thrusts groaning and grunting as he filled your sensitive pussy with his warm cum. Your ears muffling the sounds of him announcing his orgasm, late of course.

Soft kisses covered your neck and chest as you came down from your orgasm, his strokes now slow and relaxed. But as you came back down you noticed your horrible mistake.

"Cum in me daddy!" Your words echoed in your now stable mind. Canada had to sell plan B's, surely. Right?

Hope you enjoyed <3

tag list: @avoidthings @megamindsecretlair @nickidub718 @keehendrixx @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @b2hotty @partypoison00 @grooveoftiro @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @dxddykenn @motheroffae @kaylaahisthebestest- - @hello-therree @simplyzeeka

[sheep-from-rad]

Hi! Sorry if this is weird or anything, this is my first time sending an ask lol

But I just finished reading your writing about the singer/influencer reader and omfg I love your brain. Like imagine the reader did a cover of/wrote like spit in my face by ThxSoMch or Cigarette Ahegao by Penelope Scott (love her sm btw-) cause just imagine the GUILTTT

Imagine the Batfam listening to their music and just hearing the bitterness in their voice as they sing “Screwing everything up, doing everything wrong, In my defence I wasn’t supposed to be around this long, so” HGDECANZZKNFBVD

Anyway, I love your writing and I hope you have an absolutely amazing week! Take care of yourself too- drink water, eat some food and try to get some sleep ml <3

Nah anon you're cool. I love reading asks. ALSO credits to Luludelulusramblings, they made the originally made Influencer reader. Batfam belongs to DC as usual. Singer reader post: here

You know, in the Art History year 1901-1904, Picasso started the Blue Period where he only painted in the shades of Blue. It started due to the death of his friend, later his financial struggles, and of course the current state of the society. Blue Period art was so good but so doleful and depressing that no one wants to hang it in their house. Singer! Reader started their career covering mainstream songs, band songs, maybe even vocaloid. 

Their blue period started months before they planned to leave the manor. It was a simple cover of MARINA’s ‘Are you satisfied?’ A lot of burnt out overachievers ate that cover, even Tim himself. The song is basically the reader questioning the Wayne last name. Sure it was a goldmine to others but to them it’s a ticket to misery. One song cover turned into many song covers, enough to make a long playlist to play at 3 a.m. when you’re about to have a breakdown. 

The whole playlist? Batfam avoids it because it reminds them of the times they could have been giving you love but they didn’t BUT at the same time they can’t really avoid it. It became like those guilty pleasures playlist. Damian loves and hates reader’s ‘The Family Jewels’ cover because it reminds him of the fact that he and the reader are basically on the same boat. They were just children who needed attention and love. He got that attention and love immediately because of the whole league of assassins backstory. He won’t admit it but the weight of the role weighs like tonnes of iron on his shoulders. 

Jason, Bruce and Cigarette Ahegao will roll together so much. That man has twice the amount of trauma Bruce had and his coping mechanism sucks. All the aggressiveness was just a coping mechanism, underneath he’s a man with conflicted feelings and those years of being dead and suddenly being resurrected didn’t help. Let’s face it Bruce is a tired man who lives a double life. He's a man who dresses up like as a bat making sure the city is safe but he can't cover all grounds. The neglect on reader was unintentional but neglect is neglect.

Dick with reader’s cover of ‘Stressed out’ by Twenty one pilots, no explanation needed. ‘This is me trying’ by Taylor Swift with Cassandra, Stephanie, and Tim. Cassandra and Stephanie being raised by villains and Tim being an overachiever to have his parent’s attention. His parents being always away and realizing he basically did the same thing to the reader by making them feel invisible. 

Double guilt if they left the playlist on autoplay and ‘Daddy issues’ plays. Any version but I think the original fits the bill. Reader ends their blue period with a cover of Mother Mother’s ‘Burning Pile’ basically saying ‘Yeah fuck it, it’s over. I’m burning it, I’m leaving it, I’m closing the chapter’. But to the Batfamily, it meant renewal and turning a new leaf, an invitation to make things better.

[explorevenus]

dirty laundry ♡ re6!leon kennedy x puppy hybrid!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 5.1k

tags/warnings: re6!leon, stubborn/reluctant puppy reader who pretends she hates him, brief chris redfield appearance, forced proximity (kinda), leon pining for u (he wants u to call him daddy btw), hybrid heat cycle shenanigans, thigh riding, dry humping, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), no use of y/n

description: leon's had a tough time figuring out his new puppy hybrid roommate... outside of the fact that she's sweet on him, and just won't admit it. lucky for leon, he comes home from a mission to find her airing her dirty laundry.

a/n: this piece was commissioned by my beloved and adored @pupthepokemonenthusiast who is one of MY FAVORITE PEOPLE ON EARTH EVER ?!!!! and i luv yapping w them and that makes collaborating w them such a dream every time....

divider by @cafekitsune !!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Loose gravel crunched beneath Leon's boots, uneven pavement glittering with moisture in the streetlights. It was somewhere between raining and snowing, the wind splattering his rosy cheeks with little drops of condensation, every breath puffing out in a visible cloud, head tilted down at just the right angle to protect the lower half of his bruised face from the cold while still being able to see where he was going.

He didn't have a specific destination in mind, and truth be told, he couldn't really read most of the signage around here anyway-- it was all in Mandarin, and his Mandarin was even less reliable than his Spanish, to put it gently. But he could read what he needed to, at least, enough to find the basics like food, bathrooms, lodging, or hospitals, and more importantly, he could discern the backlit lettering above the shop two doors down; antiques and collectibles. 

That was a phrase he'd familiarized himself with in damn near every language under the sun by now. 

A bell dinged quietly overhead as he stepped into the storefront, grateful that it was even open past 9 o'clock at night. It was only one room and didn't have much space to walk around, but every available surface was stacked to the brim with knick-knacks of all shapes, colors, sizes, and price points under no apparent system of organization. Where some might be overwhelmed or put off by the volume of things to look at, Leon felt his heart skip a beat with excitement. He still had some time to kill before his transport back to the States was due to arrive, and not a single minute of it would be wasted overlooking any potential gems. 

Judging by the horrified stares he was attracting, Leon could imagine he looked fucking insane right now, clothes still splattered with wet, rotting blood and the barrel of his gun practically still smoking in his holster as he towered over a shelf in the back corner, scrutinizing a darling little plush bear in one hand and a set of hand-painted matryoshka dolls in the other like it was the hardest decision he would ever have to make. 

Ultimately, he chose not to decide at all-- money wasn't a factor, so why not buy both? If it weren't for the issue of luggage, he'd just say 'fuck it' and buy out the whole damn store. Unfortunately, helicopters tended to be quite limited in space. 

Self control was a skill Leon used to have mastered, perhaps even too well-- for a long time, every uncomfortable, unsightly, pesky little emotion was pressed down into a condensed cube to be neatly packed away in the very back corners of his brain, boxes upon boxes of dense feelings continuing to pile up and take over more and more space up there until the pressure became too much, the lid blew, and he went off the fucking handle. It wasn't something he was proud of by any means, all those long months blurred into mush through a lens of alcoholism and other reckless behaviors, but what he did try to let himself be proud of was his relative success in making it to the other side. 

That, of course, was a feat he did not accomplish without help, nor would he ever claim to. Chris Redfield was instrumental in his recovery in more ways than one, and at times, without even realizing it. He was a listening ear, a dealer of tough love, a trusted confidant...

...and the reason he had you. 

For obvious reasons, Leon had never gone out of his way to get a pet in his adult life. It just felt irresponsible with the inconsistency and uncertainty of his work situation, even with all the money in the world to spend on trainers and walkers and boarding and... whatever else, but at that point, it would feel less like a pet than an accessory, and Leon didn't have much interest in material. Never saw the need for it. Then one day Chris woke him up in the middle of the night banging on the door to his apartment with a gift he never expected.

"She's a... what?"

"A hybrid. She's a human-canine hybrid, Leon." 

Leon glanced between you and Chris with skepticism in his eyes, only to find the same look peering back at him in you. It was almost kind of funny that he'd have a hard time believing there could be such a thing as a human-canine hybrid, considering all he'd seen in his line of work, a thought that made his shoulders and his expression relax almost instantly. 

You were a real cutie, that was for sure, tucked behind Chris and staring up at Leon through your eyelashes with this grumpy little look on your face, a plush, patchwork bear clutched to your chest. The toy was equally as vibrant and colorful as your clothing, if not a bit worn with time. Your ears were long and droopy, your tail hanging low but swishing side-to-side with cautious interest, and the longer he studied you, the more he became endeared by you. 

"The B.S.A.A. rescued a group of hybrids from an illegal facility a few weeks ago, but finding accommodations for them isn't as simple as it sounds," Chris continued, resting a hand on your shoulder in an apparent move to reassure you. "Long story short, the people who were in charge of that facility aren't too happy about the acquisition, and the hybrids aren't safe at the B.S.A.A. anymore. Would you be willing to shelter her for a while?" 

The firm look in Chris' eyes-- and the fact that he just had to bring this up with you right in front of him-- made it clear he wasn't really asking. No mind, Leon would have done it anyway. It just would have been nice to have had a heads up to rectify the state of the apartment. 

"Yeah, of course," Leon nodded gently, stepping aside to allow you and Chris further into the apartment. "Make yourself at home." He caught the way your head tilted up a bit, as if you were studying the scent in the air, and he supposed it made sense that you likely were.

That was four months ago. And for the past four months, Leon quite enjoyed having you around. You were silly and playful, always bounding around the apartment with a toy clenched between your teeth or lounging in the sunny spots in front of the windows, pawing at him for belly rubs and treats and infinite tug-o-war matches. All that being said, you were equally stubborn, resisting him at every turn like magnetic repulsion, always kicking up a fuss seemingly just for the sake of it.

He wasn't sure. You were tough to read. Not only did some of your canine personality traits make you a bit forgetful and distractible at times, but you were also just terribly inconsistent with your affections, and he wasn't always sure what to make of it. All he knew was that he was determined to win you over in one way or another, and if he was going to do that, he'd have to figure you out first, and so far that was shaping up to be quite the herculean task. At least it seemed you would be here for a while. 

With the way he guarded your little treasures during the flight home, one might assume he was smuggling something, but he just couldn't stomach the thought of coming home without something to present to you. The hardened federal agent was determined to crack a smile out of you on his terms, to get you to admit what you both knew to be true. 

You had a crush on him. A big, fat, embarrassingly all-encompassing crush on him, and you rejected the idea of owning up to it so staunchly that it was turning you into a bit of a brat. That was the one thing he could read about you, and it drove you up the wall. 

He certainly wasn't judging you. It would be an absurd lie to say he didn't have a big, fat, embarrassingly all-encompassing crush on you too-- he'd be insane if he didn't. But the back and forth was far too enjoyable, and Leon was always up for a good natured challenge. 

See, self control was something Leon had worked really, really hard to regain a handle on, and when it came to his drinking and brooding, he certainly had... but when it came to you? Not by a longshot. That being said, he would rather be pouring himself into courting you than pouring himself another bourbon. That's what he used to shut up that little voice in the back of his head that questioned whether or not he was putting too much energy into this, banking too much on it. 

It was innocent, right? It's not like you were a bad influence or whatever. If anything, a lot of nights that he would have spent at the bar were instead being spent at home playing with you. Surely that had to be a net positive, especially considering you would have otherwise been getting poked and prodded at in a lab. 

Stepping back into the apartment for the first time in weeks, Leon hadn't even bothered bringing his duffel bag in with him from the car, the only thing in his arms being the wrinkled paper bag from that antique shop. His own belongings could wait. As soon as he shut and locked the door behind him, stepping out of his shoes, the first thing he noticed was how quiet it was. 

No lively music from the shows you liked to watch, no little bumps or growls from you playing toys, no quiet padding of your feet across the hardwood from you coming to see who was at the door. He glanced at his watch, finding it was only half past nine in the evening, and while you often proclaimed to abide by a healthy bedtime for yourself, you had a habit of napping all day and bouncing off the walls all night. Something was amiss.

Stepping further into the apartment to investigate the scene, Leon peered into the living room. The lights were on, the TV was off, there were a few toys strewn about the couch and the floor, but not a glimpse of the sweet puppy who left them there. Odd. Suspicious. Maybe even staged. 

His lips came together in a whistle meant to grab your attention, knowing your sharp ears would hear it from anywhere in the apartment, even if you were sleeping. When that call garnered no response, he began to wonder if you were mad at him. After all, he was supposed to return almost three days ago, and while Chris had been able to stop by and check on you when he had the time, it just wasn't the same, and you didn't do well with loneliness, and Leon knew that. 

Turning on his heel to head deeper into the apartment, he continued to find you nowhere. Not climbing the countertops in the kitchen, or playing under the dining table, or even reluctantly having a bath. As he reached the end of the short hallway, there were only two doors left to open. 

Leon tried another whistle and called out, "Hey, pup? I'm home!" 

He waited, and listened... and heard nothing. Your bedroom door was closed, and it looked like the light was on in there, judging by the subtle glow spilling out beneath it, but still, no response. 

His bedroom door, however, was cracked open. The overhead light was off but the bedside lamp was on, and his dirty laundry basket was tipped over on the floor. When he stepped forward to turn it upright again, he thought he saw the bedding shuffle out of the corner of his eye. Closer inspection of the bed brought the case of his missing puppy girl drew to a close. Your soft tail was peeking out beneath the edge of the covers, the markings and patterns in your fur being undeniably familiar to him now. 

It was perfect timing, really-- he was just about to tip over into the realm of worrying about your safety, but now he was back to just worrying you were mad at him... and he couldn't help the amused grin that tugged at his expression. 

"Is that a little puppy in daddy's bed?" He asked aloud, his tone taking on a smitten and adoring lilt. Once again, he received no response... at least not verbally. Quietly setting down that paper bag, he stood there and watched with his arms crossed as your tail fluttered to life in response to his tone, the tip silently patting the sheets in a lazy and reluctant little wag that you might have actually gotten away with, if it weren't for the fact that your tail was in plain view. 

He was initially going to try a few more times to get a response out of you, hoping to make sure you were okay and to see if you wanted to talk, but he quickly realized that wasn't going to work with you. You weren't all doom and gloom like he tended to be, you were silly, you were playful, you were fundamentally kind. A lighthearted approach wouldn't work with him, or with most of the people he dealt with on a day-to-day basis, but it would almost certainly work with you. 

"Well," Leon stretched his arms up with a dramatic groan, "Since there's no puppies in the bed..."

And then he playfully toppled over the lump in the bedding, bracing himself on his elbows so as not to actually crush you, of course, music to his ears being the muffled squeal of stubborn discontent that sounded out from beneath the covers.

"Leon!" You whined, arms squirming around beneath him in a desperate flurry of moves to find the edge of the blanket, tugging it down to free your face for some air. Soon enough your head poked out from beneath the covers and your eyes were already narrowed into unamused slits at him. 

But that wasn't really what caught his attention about the look on your face. You were panting for breath, your ears flopped back lazily and your hair an absolute mess, your skin hot to the touch and clammy with sweat. Now his eyes were narrowed at you in suspicion, because you were certainly frustrated, just... not the kind of frustrated he was anticipating, if his suspicions were found to be correct. 

"You look guilty," He commented, brow raised as he took you by the chin and tilted your head this way and that, as though in observation. "Why do you look guilty, puppy?" 

"I'm not," You were quick to defend yourself-- much too quick, in Leon's opinion-- and you stubbornly recoiled back from his hand, continuing to squirm and resist beneath him. "You're squishing me!" 

You planted the palm of your hand dead in the center of his face in an attempt to push him away, the bedding slipping further down in the process to reveal your flushed collarbones and shoulders, both of which were bare. Were you naked? In his bed? 

He took you by the wrists to pin your hands down with ease, staring down at you in scrutiny. "Don't lie to me, sweetheart," He said, tone firm, but not unkind. "You're red as a tomato." 

With a stubborn whine, your ears flattened back against your messy head in what could only be read as shame, and that certainly wasn't what he was going for at all, even with the compromising position he had you in at the moment. It was just meant to tease you, but you looked mortified, and he could only imagine why that might be. 

"Puppy," He softened, letting go of your wrists, one hand taking you by the cheek to gently caress you. "You know I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on." 

Your mouth fell open and then snapped shut again a time or two, a clear indication that you were tripping over your words in search of the right ones. Finally, you managed, "It's... I-It's hot." 

"Then why are you all bundled up, huh?"

You didn't even really need to admit it at this point, because it was clear as day what was going on here-- after all, Chris had warned him this might happen, that hybrids could have... intense reproductive cycles-- but he also wasn't going to push it if you just wanted to ride it out on your own. He wasn't an expert on this, he didn't know exactly what you needed, and he didn't want to overstep and freak you out.

That being said, the thought that you'd retreated to his bedroom, desperate to surround yourself with his belongings in his absence just to cope with being in heat, was a remarkably good one.

This time you didn't seem to have a retort, still writhing under him and trying to push him off of you, which wasn't new behavior for you, though this time he did take it upon himself to give you some space instead of continuing to mess with you. 

"Alright, alright, relax, daddy's not making fun of you--" 

"You're not my daddy," You interjected stubbornly, but just like always, the rosy, searing blush on your face betrayed how you really felt about the topic, even as you added, "Stop trying to make me call you that!" 

Leon dearly and sincerely adored you, that much was to be sure, but your hard-headedness could run him ragged sometimes, when you'd dig your heels in so hard about things that seemed so innocuous. Whether or not you should be expected to call him daddy-- which he regularly enjoyed teasing you about but would never legitimately force you to do-- didn't feel like the biggest issue at hand here. Not by a mile. 

How was he supposed to focus on that when you were just... burning up? Panting for breath and shaking and whining? Oh dear God, this wasn't good, and for as much effort as he was putting into focusing on your wellbeing, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to focus on the way his pants were beginning to feel uncomfortably cozy in the front. He brought one hand down between you to adjust himself only to find he'd unintentionally solicited a faint, but distinctly needy moan from you in the process, presumably because you'd touched you somewhere he hadn't necessarily meant to. 

"G-Go away, Leon," You insisted, eyes screwed shut as you turned your head to the side and maintained that stubborn frown he knew so well on you. "Get off of me!" 

But your tail was wagging in an absolute blur, thumping mindlessly against the damp sheets and knocking in between his knees at an intensity that was impossible to miss. Leon's eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth in an intrigued grin before finally sitting back on his haunches, still straddling you, but at least freeing your upper half. 

"Leon, quit--" 

You poor dear, you were so, so close to finishing that sentence, if only it weren't for the way Leon swung one leg between your own, driving his knee right up to the apex until you felt the muted pressure lavish your clit. Whatever you were about to say fizzled out on your tongue and instead popped out in a string of whimpers, your back arching up off the bed. The movement caused the bedding to slip down just a little bit further, confirming his suspicion that you were in fact naked, at least from the waist up.

Taking the soft globe of your breast into the palm of his hand, Leon let his thumb brush over your already pebbled nipple and asked lowly, "Oh, c'mon, pretty puppy... you're totally sure you don't want daddy's help? I think you're just being fussy..."

Your chest rumbled with a little growl, but it was more of a moan than that, and the fiery glare on your face was the perfect image of it. You were pissed, and quite frankly, it was a good look on you. Maybe even one of his favorites. Suddenly you were baring your teeth at him too, just pretending it was in the opposite way. You were such an open book to him. 

"You're being mean," Huffed the stubborn little puppy, but of course, Leon could be meaner. 

So he was. Leon snatched the covers off the bed in one quick swipe, and what was revealed to him beneath had to have been a thousand times better than anything he might have expected. You were naked, yes, but tangled between your legs was a pair of his sweatpants, undoubtedly retrieved from the depths of the overturned laundry basket, the grey cotton soaked through in patches with slick all over the crotch and thighs. 

Fucking Christ, you weren't just getting off to the thought of him, but also the scent of him, the feeling of his clothes on your skin, and presumably, an idea not unlike what he was already teasing you with; letting you rub one out on his thigh. 

Squishing your cheeks in one hand, he said firmly, "Look at me. Do you honestly feel like I'm being mean to you?" 

There was a pause while you stared at each other, your eyes searching his own skeptically. It didn't really seem he was messing with you, no, in fact he appeared like he really wanted to help you. The back and forth was fun and he enjoyed the little game you'd made out of getting to know each other, but when it came to your comfort and wellbeing, he wasn't interested in being forced to solve puzzles. You couldn't really blame him. 

"N-No," You admitted. 

"Exactly, so just... simmer down, will you?" 

This time Leon didn't give you another chance to tell him to fuck off. He scooped you up at the waist and pulled you to your knees, drawing your body close to his until you were straddling his left thigh. Eyes wide, you stared at him stiffly, like you were too afraid to move. Huffing out a breath, he rolled his eyes with a smirk and gripped your hips, tugging you down until you were finally bearing your weight on him. 

For as fast as your pointed teeth sank into your bottom lip to quiet yourself, it didn't even matter. You still let out a pleasured whine, ears flat against your head and your tail hung low, the tip swishing in a reluctant little wag that patted the outside of his knee with every other beat. 

"You're too precious for your own damn good," He grumbled, thumbs brushing soothing circles into your hips. "Y'know that, pup?"

Breaths falling short, it felt like your head was full of warm mud, teetering for balance on your neck as your upper body tipped forward to grasp at his arms. As expected, Leon caught you effortlessly, steadying you by cupping your face in his hands so he could look you right in your braindead little eyes, your noses almost touching as your tongue lolled out in lazy gasps.

It was obvious he wasn't going to get much more out of you in the way of words at this point, so it was a damn good thing you had that pretty tail knocking about. He figured all that wiggling was the closest he'd get to a literal window into your mind. 

"Go on, then," Leon smoothed your hair away from your sticky forehead, still mindful to hold you upright. His tone was low and, as always, far too sweet for you... but it was so nice, it vibrated down to the base of your spine and made you dizzier. You were just about to fulfill what he was encouraging you to do when he added wryly, "You've already made such a mess, don't get shy on me now." 

A quiet whimper stuttered from your dry throat-- you couldn't sit still anymore, he was being evil and he knew it, downright evil... and you typically would have stuck up your nose at him and brooded on it for a while, but you didn't even have the strength of mind for that at the moment. You hardly even realized you were already rocking your hips back and forth against the clothed meat of his thigh, nails threatening to snap under the pressure as they begged to sink past his shirt and into his muscles. 

It was pleasant, sure, but it wasn't nearly enough, especially not after hours and hours and hours of tossing and turning in his bed, rubbing yourself nearly numb with your fingers and your toys and his pillows and his clothes, aching for something tangible and warm to nurse the pain away. You let your forehead rest against his own for a moment to catch your breath, hoping to find the right angle, but you just weren't getting what you needed, and the frustration alone made your glassy eyes sting with the threat of tears. 

That just wouldn't do. 

"Oh, you really made a mess, didn't you, sweet girl?" Leon cooed sympathetically, shushing your delicate cries. Thumbs skimming over your burning cheeks, he asked quietly and carefully, "Why don't you let daddy lick it up, hm?" 

Your expression scrunched up in a weak pout and your empty little head bobbed up and down in an airy nod, and just as soon as you gave him that go-ahead, he was moving to make it so. You were on your back in seconds, Leon's broad hands spreading your plush thighs apart to make space for himself between them, and for as cool and composed as he was trying to appear right now, he couldn't help the low moan that made it past him just at the sight of you. 

Sure, he'd seen more than enough by now to guess that you were wet, but you weren't just wet, you were dripping all over yourself. It was all he could do to collect as much of you on his tongue as possible, groaning at the taste and dragging you closer by your hips until he was as close as he could get, the tip of his nose buried against the curls at the lowest point of your mound as he lapped you up with abandon.

You were writhing and crying, legs kicking out at the stimulation before drawing back up to dig into his shoulders and pull him further into you, into the mess of you. He'd managed to find it somehow, to become that something tangible and warm and redefine it, unraveling you from the root with a sanguine sense of desperation that was tempered by his undying commitment to treating you like you were made of glass. 

Your tail was curling up tight against the base of your spine, your chest was heaving for breath, you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore, and he hardly could either. 

But he also couldn't stand not to. If you had the capacity to pay attention to small details, you might have noticed his eyes were just as bleary and drunk as yours were. Leon recorded your every movement in his mind like scripture from this angle, his own hips rutting down into the bed while yours bucked into his mouth, and it was only when he found the strength to pull away for air that he found a moment to reorient himself in reality. 

His lips were puffy, rosy, and slick with you as he caught his breath, two fingers toying with your puffy, aching clit in the absence of his tongue. It was almost like muscle memory for him to reach up with his free hand and pat your belly, an affectionate hum ringing from him at the near-immediate reaction it got out of you, even in a state like this. You were squirming and arching beneath him as your quivering body fought to determine priority over the attention brought by either hand, a rather endearing dilemma to have found yourself in. 

"Oh, my poor baby," Leon preened, lavishing the inside of your right thigh with kisses. "You're so cute..." 

Unable to help himself from letting you have the best of both forms of pampering, he replaced the tips of his fingers with his tongue yet again, freeing both hands to pet your soft tummy. The movements were lazy, but sure enough, your tail was going off as fast as it could while you laid there shivering and whining and clawing at him, tumbling over the edge into release before you could come up with a way to warn him first. 

As if he would have cared anyway. A warning wouldn't have changed anything. Hell, it might have even spoiled what turned out to be a dizzying moment of unabashed indulgence for him. 

Gentle, adoring hands kneading delicately at all your favorite spots, Leon willfully deprived himself of oxygen in pursuit of every drop of your syrup as it flowed from you, knowing he would come to regret being wasteful later if this should turn out to be a one-time thing. He lost himself to the throes of hedonism for several drawn out moments until he was confident you were licked clean, until he came to again and realized you had gone completely limp in the wake of your expenditure. 

Rolling over onto his back, Leon spread out just as bonelessly across the bed as you did, the both of you a sorry sight of sweat and heat. He spent several minutes trying to find a way to break the silence. With the haze of lust wearing off a bit and clearing up space in his mind for more intelligent processes, Leon was already beginning to dread the inevitable conversation this would warrant between the two of you.

Lucky for him, that was so far outside of the realm of your current train of thought... or lack thereof. You certainly felt better, but that didn't mean your brain wasn't mud anymore. Little else mattered to your muggy, muddled mind but the here and now. 

In an unexpected move, you rolled onto your side to rest your head against his chest. The way you struggled to meet his eyes was enough for him to know you were likely still struggling to talk, or maybe you just didn't really want to, but the olive branch you'd extended demonstrated your agreeable state, which was more than he could've said for you half an hour ago. 

Shit, half an hour ago he was still hoping a couple presents from his trip would win your affections, yet here he was with the taste of you lingering on his lips, your naked body curled up to him for comfort. 

Wrapping his arm tightly around you until you were tucked up comfortably into his side, Leon rested his chin atop your head and mumbled fondly, "What am I gonna do with you, huh? Can't even sleep in my own bed after a long mission 'cause this pretty little puppy made such a big mess... I hope you know how to work the washing machine."

[urauntiefaye]

Maki+Daddy Kink🔞🌸

WC: 710 

TW: Hard thoughts at bottom, Daddy kink, talk of mental disorders, I switch between she/her and they/them honestly. That should honestly be it, if you're uncomfortable with Maki content that's okay, you don't have to read it just don't send hate. let me know I forgot anything!

A/N: SFW portion is a lot longer than NSFW portion btws guys. This is kind of sorta in correlation to my Maki with a Hyper Feminine GF, I realized I didn’t go too much into the daddy kink aspect to it, so I decided to elaborate a little bit more here!

*SFW* Outside of The Bed: Maki with a daddy kink is interesting to me, because it doesn’t only apply in the bedroom. Maki gives off vibes of wanting to take care of his girlfriend all the time, not only because he’s the maknae and everyone is always babying him. But more just because Maki honestly just gives off the vibes of being a caregiver, not like in a kinky or little space sense. I just noticed he really likes taking care of the other members, either if it’s cooking for them, or supporting them. It’s really heavy with Harua that I’ve noticed, and it could just be me. But Maki seems to not only just be a person who genuinely likes taking care of others, but especially others who have more of a submissive personality type(not in a sexual sense/can be but not what I meant in this context). 

He definitely gives off the type of boyfriend vibes who would order for you if you have social anxiety. The type who holds your hand in large crowds, the type to easily pick up if you’re getting anxious or over stimulated and asks you what’s wrong. I feel like Maki would be the perfect boyfriend for someone who is neurodivergent(ADHD, Autism, AuDHD, OCD ect). Or just someone who has mental health issues like anxiety, depression, bipolar, BPD ect. Because he just seems very patient and understanding, the type to take charge if you need him too. The type that can just easily read you, and helps you through whatever the issue is. 

Now I also just see him lowkey loving it that his girlfriend needs him, not like unhealthily dependent on him. But just look to him for help, and let him lead and take control. It’s not really that he needs to have control, more so just that it makes him feel good and happy knowing his significant other trusts him enough to let him take care of them and that they feel comfortable enough to let their guard down enough. Mostly because people who have those disorders like ADHD and Autism, and hell any of the ones I mentioned tend to mask a lot trying to fit into society so they don’t ‘slip’ up. And it can get really fucking exhausting, to the point to were they’re brain feels so full and just want to shut it off. Which helps when you have someone to lead you in a sense and just let you relax and not have to worry about anything (this is from personal experience and what I heard from friends). And Maki would take pride knowing his partner feels comfortable enough to not mask around him and just be themself. 

*NSFW* Inside of The Bed: Maki loves having you call him daddy. But not just that, he loves taking the lead and being the dominant one in the bedroom. Seeing how you trust him enough to do so is such a turn on for him, and he follows through 100%. Loves when you dress up in cute girly frilly clothes so much too, he just devours so much. Doesn’t matter if it’s soft sweet loving sex, or kinky rough sex. He wants you to call him daddy, maybe even has you wear a necklace with his name on it too just so people know who you belong to. Loves looking at the necklace while he fucks you, adjusts it when it falls past your neck. If you want something you have to address him as daddy and say please, if he’s not satisfied with the way you make your request he will have you repeat it until you get it right too. Can’t get enough how your eyes tear up and you’re whimpering out to him because it feels too good. Wipes your tears away while calling you cute too. Always makes you send photos of yourself in your outfits to him, if you get a new outfit? Send a photo, a new lingerie set? Send a photo AND a video. Just wants to fuck you so much that you forget all of your problems too. If you’re having a bad day, don’t worry cuz he’s here to fuck it out of you. 

[pemiski]

tags fem! reader, kaiser’s obvious daddy issues and the way they prevent him from stone skipping

I know I said I was going to take a break (reqs still open for bb drabbles 😇 btw) but this idea has been gnawing at me for a long time and it seems I have only just now realised I am a writer after all. With this somewhat gauche introduction I present to you: your dad ending up being Micha’s father figure! (Clapping, whistling!!)

Getting your boyfriend out of the apartment had felt eerily similar to coaxing a suspicious cat out of its carrier at the vet: slow, and a whole lot of resistance (for a while, you’d even thought he would start hissing at you). Outside, the picnic blanket had barely touched the grass before your mum was already fussing over the corners, smoothing it down like a centerpiece. Your dad, on the other hand, was visibly wrist-deep in picnic baskets, already sorting out the food and cutlery.

They’d chosen a spot right by the lake, a quiet stretch of green that shimmered in the late afternoon sun. Michael’s grip on your hand had tightened the moment he had spotted them. He had technically met them before— brief glances and near-misses, all part of his very deliberate campaign to avoid any formal introductions— although it seemed that today, his luck had finally run out.

Overall, Michael had lasted a grand total of twenty minutes on the blanket before he excused himself and wandered toward the lake, muttering something about needing to stretch his legs. You didn’t follow, figuring you’d let him breathe a little instead, but when your dad stands up a minute later and trails after him, you can’t help the way your back straightens slightly.

He joins Michael at the water’s edge with that quiet kind of presence he has, and to your surprise, your boyfriend doesn’t budge. Instead, they stand side by side in silence, both staring out at the glassy surface of the lake as if they were expecting something to rise from it.

Then your dad crouches down and picks up a stone.

“Used to spend hours out here doing this with your brother when you were little,” he calls back to you. Then, to Michael, “Ever skipped one?”

Michael shakes his head. “Tried. Once. Didn’t go well.”

Your dad just hummed, with no particular surprise nor disappointment tainting his voice. “Trick is not to throw hard. Most people think it’s about force, but really, it’s finesse.”

He selects a smoother stone, holds it up, then flicks his wrist. The rock spins out low and light across the water— skip, skip, skip, skip— until it finally drops beneath the surface.

Michael blinks. “That was four.”

“Five, if we’re counting the first kiss on the surface.” Your dad smiles, crouching down again, holding out a stone. “Here. Try.”

Michael hesitates— the doubt is written all over his face— but ultimately takes it.

He mimics the motion as best he can, but the stone flops down into the lake with a hollow plunk, and he looks vaguely embarrassed. One solid splash, no skip.

Still, your dad doesn’t laugh; doesn’t even grin. Just picks out another rock.

“Wrist lower. Aim for the far bank, not the water. Flick at the last second— like this.” He demonstrates again, slow enough for Michael to follow. Another skip. Clean and easy.

Michael tries again.

Plunk.

Your dad still doesn’t flinch, and just hands him another. “Takes a few tries,” he shrugs.

From the blanket, you see it— the careful way your dad speaks, the way he never corrects too much at once. The way he stands a little closer each time. How, after ten failed throws, Michael finally manages one solid skip.

The blonde doesn’t smile, but you see the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes nevertheless.

“Yeah, not bad, kid!” your dad exclaims, a grin forming on his face. “You’ll get three by the end of the day.”

Michael looks over at him. “Yeah?”

Your dad nodds, already tossing him another stone. “Yeah.”

@pemiski 2025 - all rights reserved. I do not authorize any reposting translating or modifying of my content on any platform

[cinny-cinnamon]

Bad Sans HCs! (sorry for late post 😭)

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* *･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･

Nightmare

Oh we BOTH now that this man is possessive, jealous, BUT he sugar daddy approved sooo (sprinkle, sprinkle? 🥺)

Buys you anything AND everything. You want to eat at a cafe? He bought the building so he can have private café dates <3 (Horror is the one cooking and stuff there lmao)

He LOOOVEEESSSS you but he can NOT physically say it so here; take his money, hun 💵

He doesn’t sleep BUT he does lay down beside you while reading something

He doesn’t normally cook but he CAN bake your favorite desserts <3

Speaking of dessert, when you usually have a bad day, he’s the first to go to you, listen to you, feed you your favorite dessert and hunt down the person who hurt you 😊

Yeahhh… he’s REALLY protective of you

Speaking of protectiveness, whenever you hangout with a friend, he usually has an arm wrapped around your waist (or shoulder if you’re more comfortable with that)

Moreover, if someone hits on you, he WILL hit them (with his fist <3)

Killer

I say this with the most respect i have… THIS MAN IS THE CLINGIEST MF YOU’VE EVER KNOWN CAUSE DAMN THIS MAN DON’T KNOW HOW TO LEAVE YOU ALONE

He’s like a puppy. a very big oversized childish immature puppy with issues but you love him so you don’t care 🤷‍♀️

Speaking of his personality if a man even LOOKS at you in any weird way he gonna be like stab first ask questions later

Lovessss to kiss you anywhere and everywhere and a BIGGG fan of PDA

Despite his reputation of being a flirt, he’s really loyal to you and holds on to you like a child holding their favorite toy

Speaking of clinginess, he LOVESS to cuddle you and be big spoon (it feeds his ego to be bug spoon)

Along with the topic of his ego, despite his cockiness and arrogance, he’s kinda insecure about himself sooo sometimes you gotta reassure him you’d never cheat on him or leave him

Dust

You chose the traumatized one??? Interesting… (are you ok? 😭)

Like no judging cause I get it but… HE’S PROBABLY THE MOST MESSED UP OF THE GROUP 😭

But I feel like he would make an amazing listener so if you ever need to rant then just go to him (if it’s about someone who hurt you then he do a little ✨ stab-e-stab✨

Reading time with him is sooooo fun. He’ll probably either have you lay on his lap while he reads or him lay on your lap when he wants to nap

Late night convos with him ✨

Likes to make you a nice warm hot drink for reading

If you’re the one having a mental breakdown, he will listen, talk, cuddle and love you all the way through it.

Horror

hubby material

I love myself a man who can cook ngl

He knows how to cook? he tall and big? he sweet and precious in private? WIFE/HUSBAND/MARRY ME UP RN-

He gives like hamster vibes in private but in public… people are looking at ya’ll and be like “Is she being held hostage or smthng?” (you are being held hostage… WILLINGLY 😫)

He loves to cook for you anytime any day. Sudden midnight craving? Midnight cookies. Bad day at work and you’re starving? Your favorite comfort food! :3

This man is so attentive to your needs and wants its gonna make me cry-

Cross

my tsundere radar is TINGLING (TSUNDERE ALERT 🚨 TSUNDERE ALERT 🚨 HAND WITH CAUTION AND STUBBORNESS)

He tries to be the non chalant guy but as soon as he saw you he was like (o*｡_｡)o

Luckily you like him back (no matter how many times he ‘rejects’ you) so you just keep on bothering him <3

Although he probably lets you do things he won’t let others do to him like call him pet names, maybe a lil kiss, and holding hands

Remember: No matter what he says, he loves you so much

Also when people ask if ya’ll are dating he’ll say no and try to shrug it off, but when someone is flirting with you, oh HELL no. Protection Mode on

Error

Two tsunderes in a row?! Damn-

Well pretty much the same with Cross but with more ego and cockiness

He crochets you stuff too btw (maybe something like a cute lil plushie that says “you’re stupid”)

Althoughhhh he loves it when you share hot cocoa with him <3

Also he gets annoyed easily and probably won’t try to touch you because he’s haepephobic (fear of being touched) (idk how to spell that word)

Anyway that’s all, bye! <3

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* *･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･

[starshadyy]

what your favorite splatoon character says about YOU!

obligatory “this is a joke” disclaimer, please don’t take offense i’m only being silly👉👈

☆ ★ ☆

callie: you are a diehard squid sisters fan. you have an intrinsic sense for design and are probably super creative. you hate it when people misinterpret her. others wouldn’t assume it, but you actually need therapy more than most others on this list…😔

marie: you’re really intimidating but probably super nice. you’re actually good at the game and are well-versed in the meta. you may not be the best at communication, but you have a strong intuition and are good at reading people

pearl: an absolute feral crackhead who needs to be kept on a leash. definitely queer. nasty majesty is your national anthem. you breathe life and energy into every situation you enter, and others appreciate you for it. you are pearlina’s strongest soldier! 🩷🩵

marina: you are a massive nerd /affectionate. you either wanna be her friend or you have a fat crush on her. you listen to splatoon ost all the time. your room is packed with stuff from the media you like, including mountains of plushies

shiver: you join her team during splatfests even when you don’t necessarily agree with the platform. you’re likely very sarcastic and always speak your mind. oh yeah, and you’re a weeb

frye: you loved her from the start and defended her honor back when everyone was clowning on her design. you’re very talented but humble about your accomplishments. you would bite someone if allowed

big man: you act laid back but are probably filled with anxiety. i get the vibe that you would own an unconventional pet of some kind [turtle, frog, ferret, etc.]. you’re for sure the mom friend. you know nothing about splatoon lore

captain 3: you are the BACKBONE of this fandom and i have nothing but respect for you. you’re probably ranked pretty high in competitive and are likely a completionist

agent 4: you grew up on splatoon 2 and were sure that they would show up in side order only to be… uh, half right? i’m so sorry sweet prince /gn. don’t you worry, your day [splatoon 4] is fast approaching…

eight: you’re very analytical and derive great joy from the story aspects of splatoon. you either write or read fanfiction and maybe cosplay too. you LIVE for the found family trope, and also probably ship them with captain 3. you have amazing taste :]

neo agent 3: you think lil buddy is the most adorable creature to walk the planet. you wish their initial outfit was actually accessible in the game. you’ve probably only played splatoon 3

cap’n cuttlefish: you’re an og who’s been around since splatoon 1 but still know next to nothing about the lore. you don’t main a weapon, and instead prefer to bounce around. you are… an inscrutable crackhead who i want to study

dj octavio: you’re willing to die on the hill that he is not a villain and only did what he did to support his people [you’re right btw]. you’re actually really chill and fun and i have a lot of respect for you. also, i’m liable to believe that you ship him with cuttlefish, don’t you? DON’T YOU?!?

commander tartar: you’re… ME??? villainous characters are always your favorites. you think octo expansion is a masterpiece [and you’re entirely right]. you’re a splatoon scholar and scour every obscure twitter post and artbook note to satiate your hunger for that sweet sweet lore. there’s something deeply wrong in your head.

mr. grizz: you play a lot of salmon run but are actually kinda bad at it [shhh i won’t tell]. you suffered through after alterna just for his backstory log and the bear ears. i’m going to go out on a limb here and say… you have daddy issues

smollusk: you LOVE the idea that marina and pearl are its adoptive moms. you’ve beaten side order with every palette. you overuse the “🥺” emoji. you miiight be a little annoying, but your heart is in the right place… probably

acht: either the chillest person you’ll ever meet or the most insane. probably both. you’re 100% queer and probably neurodivergent too. i bet you listen to will wood and / or tally hall. i wanna be your friend

harmony: you know every chirpy chips song by heart. you’re probably really sweet and i know you make banger fanart. you have an affinity for cute things and i bet your favorite pokémon type is fairy. DEFINITELY neurodivergent.

cq cumber: ???you both confuse and frighten me!!! what can i even say? you’re a cryptid! but honestly, you’re kinda iconic. i salute you, you freak of nature🫡

iso padre: I LOVE YOU. you’re accepting of all people and are just an absolute saint in general. daddy issues, but you’re coping way better than the grizz fans. also, i’m betting that you’re neurodivergent

sheldon: i didn’t think you existed, but turns out that you do? you actually listen to his rambles. splatoon 2 is your favorite game in the series. you’re able to see the value in things that others tear down and y'know what? i respect that [not saying i approve of your character choice though]

judd: wait, why him? ohh wait, i know! you probably just don’t care about splatoon’s story at all and / or love cats. there, that’s totally it, right?

lil judd: you either DON’T know his lore and just like the cute little kitten, or you DO know his lore and you’re unhinged. i’m scared of you

spyke: you’d bark for him without hesitation and DON’T pretend you wouldn’t. you clown. you absolute freak. i know what you are. /j

murch: if i had to bet, you’re probably the shy type who prefers to let others do the talking for them. you might secretly be a little freaky though, and i think you should embrace that side of yourself. you’re safe here. be free.

[tu2tru]

i was wondering could you do a MC who kinda just- craves their help? Like somewhat like a daddy issues trope type thing, an MC who wants the brothers' help and just wamts them to always give them affection/touch. An MC who wants Lucifer to put his hand on their wrist or thigh, an MC who likes to play cards with Mammon, an MC who likes to lay in Levi's lap while watching anime, an MC who loves to lean against Satan while reading, an MC who likes it when Asmo holds their chin while he does their makeup, an MC who holds hands with Beel while snacking, an MC who cuddles and rarely lets go of Belphie when sleeping. The previous were just like examples btw-

✎ Obey Me Brothers જ⁀➴ Providing Attention

In need of attention? The brother's got you .ᐟ They all want to take care of you, and this is how they'd do it -`♡´- .ᐟ

⸝⸝ gender neutral , sfw ⸝⸝

・❥╭─────────────╯

.ᐟ 𝖫𝗎𝖼𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗋

Going to lucifer while he's working, he's ready to focus all his attention on you. Taking a break from everything just to be with you. Lucifer will let you sit on his lap, holding you close to him. You're special to him, and he wants you to feel comfortable with him and the environment. Putting on some calming music for you, laying back, and drawing circles on your back with the occasional kiss on the cheek or forehead. He mostly stays quiet during this, but is as comforting as can be. Though, the exceptional "Are you feeling well?" and "I love you." will be said, just to check in on you.

.ᐟ 𝖬𝖺𝗆𝗆𝗈𝗇

Mammon would want to to be happy, so he takes you out to fun places that'll get you excited. How about a theme park? He'd be pretty touchy, holding your waist from behind, kissing your neck, always holding your hand, wrapping his arms around your shoulder, stuff like that! He'd also be very vocal, constantly asking you if you're enjoying yourself, and there's always a stream of compliments coming from him. His attention will be focused on you and your happiness. He will even try to win a prize for you! Possibly embarrassing himself in the process, but as long as you're happy, it doesn't matter to him.

.ᐟ 𝖫𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇

Typically, Levi is the one who would prefer to be receiving the attention, but with you, he loves any interaction with you. He's happy to care for you, no doubt about it. He knows the best way to go about this is to do what he knows helps him. He'll cuddle you closely while watching an anime of your choice. He gives you access to his secret stash of snacks to share together, and he will be feeding you sweets so you can focus on the anime. You'll lay your head on his shoulder, and he freezes up, but will quickly adjust and lay his head on your head too. A comfortable, loving silence under a blanket together, going into the night. Tonight, it's just you and him.

.ᐟ 𝖲𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗇

"Relax with me. I want to take care of you." Satan will start off by making a pot of tea or coffee, whichever you prefer. As it's being made, he picks out a book from his wide selection. He specifically aims for one with beautiful words, just as beautiful as he sees you. Once your drinks are made, and the book is chosen, he sits down, and motions you to sit between his legs. You lay down, your head on his chest. Wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your head, holding the book in front of you. He slowly and softly reads the pages to you, while taking breaks here and there to kiss you on the head.

.ᐟ 𝖠𝗌𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗎𝗌

Awww , Asmo is happy to give you attention! He will quickly set up a beautiful bubble bath for you! Complete with flower petals, a bath bomb of your choice, calming candles, and the lights dimmed! He's got matching face masks too! He gets in with you and begins to massage your shoulders with a sweet lotion, complimenting your shoulders and just about every inch of you, especially your face. He finds you so cute, he'd be pinching your cheeks if it weren't for your face mask. Though, this doesn't stop him from placing kisses on you everywhere he can. He washes your body and your hair, constantly praising every bit of you. Once you two get out, he's already got matching robes prepared for you. And, a little box of chocolates! He will hand feed them to you, all while still massaging and kissing you. You both get caught up in doing your hair and nails. This goes on, and you end up staying the night with him, falling asleep in his arms.

.ᐟ 𝖡𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗓𝖾𝖻𝗎𝖻

Beelzebub will cook a special meal for you. He knows just what you like. He's been wanting to cook this for you for some time, but was waiting for a proper moment. Now is that moment. Once he finishes, he sits down with you, and will feed his meal to you while holding your cheeks. Any food that falls onto your face will be kissed off by him, but he will kiss you even if there isn't any food on your face. All while looking you in your eyes. He loves your eyes, and thinks you look absolutely delicious. Every bit of you. Ready for dessert? He's ready too. He wants to bake cookies with you. He stays close to you, helping you along the way. You two have fun baking together, and look! He's baked a cookie in the shape of a heart, just for you! As you two eat your cookies together, he can't help but think that you'll always be sweeter than any cookie in the whole world.

.ᐟ 𝖡𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗀𝗈𝗋

A nap together, of course! He has a big, warm bed of blankets just calling your name. And so is he. You lay with him, and it's like laying on a bed of clouds. A very warm bed of clouds. He holds you so close to him, and strokes your back with his hand. He absolutely will not let go of you. He whispers sweet things to you, and kisses your head constantly. He watches you sleep in his arms, admiring you. Despite being tired, he stays up a bit longer than you, just so he can watch you, kiss you, and hold you. He soon falls asleep with his nose on your forehead, and you both breathe in sync. This will be the best nap he's had in a while.

・❥╭─────────────╯

i had a lot of fun writing this one, especially asmo's and beel's part! so many kisses! thank you for requesting me- i hope this satisfies :> !

my requests are open, i have more plans for the brothers too! bye ! :) ఌ︎

[spidey-brain]

I watched the 3 new eps of Your friendly neighborhood Spider-man, so here are some of my thoughts:

First, I didn't expect for them to drop 3 whole eps on the second date of release. Like, usually they drop 2/3 eps for the premiere of the show and then it's one ep per week. Which, idk if I like this. It's not a big deal, but I still find it weird. It feels like they are in a rush to release the eps. Maybe it's this one time to make up for the lack of marketing before the show started and because of, well, some controversies that this show has/had even before it started... idk, it's just speculation, and I've seen other people think the same. Anyway, moving on.

Somehow, I feel like Norman is being a better "mentor" to Peter than Tony was in the MCU. Though, this might be because the MCU was kinda limited in their movies and didn't show many scenes between them. This is why I put mentor in quotations, and also because in some ways Norman is still being fishy. Like, he turned out as being more good and genuine than I expected at first, but, ya know, because of Spider-man and Peter Parker luck, shit can hit the fan in this relationship rather quickly.

Norman seems to be a fan of superheroes (emphasis on the seems, and @poke-maniac made some good points in the comments of this post about how Norman seems to not trust or like heroes and only does so with Spider-man because he has the chance to keep Peter under his thumb. And like poke-maniac also put it, Norman looks like he likes to keep things and people (like his son and Peter) under his control. Which ya, can make his "turn into villainy" more expected). And I like how the show actually talks about the Sokovia Accords and their aftermath. Like, for now, it's not much, but I'll take anything about that, considering the MCU didn't really do anything with it besides more than half of the Avengers/heroes not being present when Thanos invaded in Infinity War. Norman seems to be somewhat obsessed with helping/(probably) creating the next big hero that is gonna be the saviour of New York, more in the sense of him being the one responsable for and in control of said big hero of New York.

Norman is being an ass by ignoring some of Peter's desires for Spider-man, like the man didn't even take a look at Peter's designs. Which also, I love that we see Peter design and holding on to his red and blue suit. Can't wait until he makes his own suit. Oh, and also, Norman was also being an ass by offering Peter costumes that had nothing to do with his spider powers and Spider-man persona. Like, Norman, the kid calls himself Spider-man for a reason, you idiot. Though, I found the experimenting the suits scenes hilarious.

I love that Peter refused Norman's offer at first and the poor boy was so nervous when he had to meet Norman in the aftermath of his identity reveal. I also like that Peter took his time to think and to be convinced to accept the offer and that it took Peter thinking of May's money struggles and Norman proving to be helpfull/that Peter needed some help. And, btw, Norman was also fishy by how he hacked Peter's equipment through the satellite. I mean ya, he helped Peter, but still...

Harry found out too. Ups... Peter needs to learn to be more carefull with his secret identity. Though, that is also Norman's fault for not warning Peter beforehand that his son was there, but I also think that it's made obvious that Norman did want his son to know as to be there to help Peter as his "guy in the chair" (lol, they be channeling Ned from the MCU with that one). For now, Peter and Harry's relationship seems to be pretty wholesome. (Though, probably, at some point shit will hit the fan with this relationship too. Maybe because of jealousy and daddy issues, but idk, I might be wrong and this time things will go right between Peter and the Osborns - which I still doubt they will. We'll see...) Oh, and well, Norman not warning Peter about Harry and/or talking to him about telling/showing Harry the truth beforehand is also a red flag. (Norman, that wasn't your secret to tell!)

Though, despite trusting Norman, Peter still seems to not be at ease with him, like he even said he is intimidating, lol. Which makes sense as he is the first person to find out Peter's secret and, despite wanting to help Peter/Spider-man, Norman isn't really listening to Peter and what he wants/needs, as of now. Let's see how that goes moving forward. (And again, Norman's controlling tendencies...)

I liked Tombstone's origin and how they made it contrast to Peter's current situation. Also, that the show, generally, is focusing more on street level crime and gang wars than the MCU ever did.

Uncle Ben is still being talked about, yay :) - though, I still don't get why the show is hidding him. Like, why not show at least a photo of him or something. Why does it feel like the show is making Uncle Ben kind of a mistery (I guess)? Idk how to explain, but it's kinda weird, imo. They even had the chance of showing him when Peter was looking through the pictures on Ben's camera. Also, on another note, it was heartbreaking to see May have to sell Ben's things in order to pay the bills.

Doctor Octopus is here. I like this version of him so far. But we still haven't seen much of him, so ya.

Peter is still coming off as a bad friend to Nico because of his Spider-man stuff. Also, was, like, the show teasing Nico's powers when she touched that necklace, idk, maybe. Sorry, I didn't read her comics...

Overall, I'm enjoying the show and I want to see what happens next. I like it more than I expected to like it at first, especially as it's more of an alternative universe for the MCU than for the comics/other Spider-man cartoons. And they handled the whole "Norman as Peter's mentor" thing better than I expected. Though, this is just the begining of it, but as of now this is how I feel (lol).

It's like seeing a version of the MCU where they used more concepts of Peter Parker's Spider-man characters and ideas. Ya, still mixed, and actually more mixed, with other stuff from other comics, but I still like it and it makes the show feel more "Peter Parker-esque" to me (I guess that's a way to put it. At least, when comparing it to the MCU, lol).

I think it's a fun reimagining.

[wikiangela]

several sentence sunday

so this is another fic I started on my vacation (I started three, and had one idea I haven't started yet lol - and one is already posted) - also, the two weeks here might change bc I'm struggling with the timeline (which doesn't matter but also it does lol) but I'll figure it out haha

(I'm still writing all my other wips btw, and gonna get to all the asks, but the writing beans have been gone lately, and I've been too exhausted lol - and my brain is so all over the place with my wips, idk what I wanna get to more)

___

Evan knows he’s in love with Tommy about two weeks into their relationship.

(...)

They still barely know each other, but Evan knows. He can’t explain why, can’t explain how, he just knows. Tommy Kinard is it for him.

The moment he realizes it with utmost clarity is nothing special, really. He just spent the night at Tommy’s – not the first one, but it’s still new enough to fill him with nervous, giddy excitement, butterflies swirling in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt in years before Tommy. Everything about Tommy makes him feel like this. Tommy’s eye-crinkling, nose-scrunching adorable smile; Tommy’s eyes, always so fond when he looks at him; Tommy’s lips that taste so amazing Buck never wants to stop kissing him; Tommy’s big, big hands that feels so good in Buck’s, those strong arms and broad shoulders… – just everything about Tommy. At first Buck thought it’s the newness of this, of Tommy, of knowing about his bisexuality. But he’s also gotten so comfortable with Tommy in such a short time, and it doesn't even really feel new anymore, he knows it must be just him, must be Tommy making him feel like a giddy teen with a crush. Except the way this feels… Buck’s a grown man with tons of experience, and he knows how infatuation feels, how a simple crush and attraction feels, how real love feels. And he knows, deep down in his core, in his soul, in his heart, that this is real, that this is definitely more than a crush. This is what love feels like.

___

no pressure tags (lmk if you wanna be added or removed):

@dr-shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @ladydorian05 @diazpatcher @monsterrae1 @rainbow-nerdss @pirrusstuff @bucks-daddy-issues @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @diazheartsbuckley @giddyupbuck @thewolvesof1998 @underwaterninja13 @your-catfish-friend @kinard-buckley @evansboyfriend @beyourownanchor6 @weewootruck @kirkaut @jewishbuckley @loveyouanyway @daffi-990 @lonelychicago @reformedplayerbibuck @spotsandsocks @bucked-it-up @theotherbuckley @drcloyd @bidisasterevankinard @tizniz @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @girlwonder-writes @perfectlysunny02 @dadbodbuck

[c0la-queen]

Hellooo! I just found your page and saw that you write eddsworld stuff! (It’s hard to find fics like yours) and I was reading some of it and I just had a request I wanted to ask (if you don’t mind :D) okay so imagine tords father being actually affectionate with his wife (in private of course) but not just like kisses and stuff he’s LITERALLY all over his wife and is literally not afraid to drag her into the bedroom and tries to tell tord to be like that with his future wife! Btw I love all your fics I’m still reading them now lol

Okay this is a little funny to me because I'm just imagining my version of Tord except he has zero to minimal amounts of daddy issues compared to what he has in my usual timeline. So for this ask, we're delving into Tord: Healthy Family Edition. (Also I am so sorry for being dead. I'm a freshman going to college for the first time and have been adapting to everything!! You guys' support and patience means everything to me!)

--

So we're running off the scenario I gave in my Red Leader dating headcanons. If you haven't read that, see my General Dating Headcanons post.

If you're not interesting in reading that, which I totally understand, here's a brief summary of how Red Leader and Reader met:

Reader starts out as Red Leader's personal secretary. He's notorious for having such a horrible temper that he runs through secretaries like Sarah Boone ran through lawyers (true crime joke, sorry). However, Reader handled his temper and returned it to him tenfold, earning his respect and eventually his love.

Now, in this world, Tord actually had a healthy family life. As the ask said, his father was very openly affectionate and in love with Tord's mother when in private. With Tord and his younger sister, it was what you'd see from parents in media that were happy and in love. Open PDA, frequent dates, and compliments galore. Tord's father, as the Red Leader, would shower Tord's mother in gifts - the finest jewelry in whichever metal she preferred, luxury chocolates, trips to different countries, etc. But it wasn't always money. He spoiled her in other ways, too. Filling the house with vases of her favorite flowers. Giving her massages in the privacy of their bedroom if she was sore. Doing everything in the house on days when she's especially tired. When his mother was pregnant with Tord's younger sister, his father's already heavy spoiling was increased tenfold. Tord was old enough to perceive the world at that point, so his father made sure to hammer into his brain that when his future wife is pregnant, he needs to treat her like a goddess incarnate. Tord took that to heart.

When Tord got older - about his teenage years, maybe around when his father had "the talk" with him (he had no idea Tord didn't need "the talk" and that he had been exposed to copious amounts of hentai when he was 15) - his father started to teach Tord how he expected him to treat his future wife all the time. Of course, Tord had grown up seeing how his father lavished on his mother. But there were some parts that he didn't quite understand as a child that his father clarified. Like his mother's periods! His father taught Tord that while all periods were experienced differently, there were a few different things that generally all period-havers enjoyed. I recently saw a TikTok where a woman said "however much you're spoiling your girlfriend during her period, I want you to triple it." This is something that Tord's father would say to him.

As for bedroom happenings, Tord's parents would do what good parents should do and make sure that the kids are never exposed to that part of their lives. When they're old enough to know what sex even is, Tord wants NOTHING to do with even thinking about his parents having sex. It sends shivers down his spine. For your pleasure as the dear readers on the other side of the screen, I will just say - Tord definitely got his father's genetics <3. Tord's mother was a very content woman.

Back to present day Red Leader (Tord, not his father), there are two stages to his relationship with Reader. The first stage is when they're still dating. Well,, dating in Reader's eyes. As I said in the general headcanons, Red Leader sees dating Reader as an unneeded formality. But Reader, being sensible, still wanted to take it slow instead of jumping straight into marriage. She would continue to work as his personal secretary - its his fucking army, whose going to stop him? The HR department isn't going to say anything since they're both consenting adults and any soldier who is stupid enough to try to accuse Reader of being a gold-digger is going to be cleaning every bathroom on base for a month.

Where it differs in this timeline is that Red Leader wouldn't try to keep a professional air around you in public. He'll come up behind you and wrap his arms around your torso, resting his chin on your shoulder. It doesn't matter if you're talking to another soldier about some paperwork or some other red tape nonsense. If the soldier you're talking to has any objections, they're quickly silenced by Red Leader's piercing stare. They're not risking putting their ass on the line. If you berate him for it afterwards, Red Leader will just pout and whine like a petulant child. He was getting bored doing paperwork and just wanted to hold you, how is that a problem :( He's so protective of you and is even more open about it now. He'll give you at least one body guard if you're going somewhere without him. Makes sure that you're exempt from normal soldier duties because HIS darling should only be tending to him and that's it. He openly shows so much favoritism toward you that even if you two were trying to keep your relationship a secret, every soldier was able to see it within like a week.

Once you two are married, you don't have the option of still getting to be a soldier. Red Leader will let you have whatever hobby you want - no matter how strange, niche, or complex it is, he'll fund it just to make you happy - but you're not going to be doing ANY kind of work if he has anything to say about it. Even if you just end up sleeping through most of the day, he's perfectly content to let you nap the day away all safe and cuddled up in his luxury satin bedsheets. Shows so much PDA all the time. Doesn't matter where you are or who is there. If you're in the base and some soldiers come into Red's office for something, he'll talk to them with a straight face while you lounge on his lap doing something or other. Discussion over drinks with an ally world leader of his? He'll still have you pulled flush to his side with his arm around your waist. Out in public with cameras on you? You bet your ass he'll still pull you in for a sweet, chaste kiss or press his lips to your temple as a silent reminder that he loves you.

Took all his father's advice to heart. You are the most spoiled person on the entire planet, you think. Cleopatra would be so envious with the way that you had Red Leader falling to his knees at your feet just to make you happy. Anything you want, anything at all, he'll get it for you. There has been multiple times where you were craving something specific from a certain country and Red Leader made it his mission to fly out to that country just to get you your craving. All the same kinds of presents that he watched his father shower on his mother - he would get for you, too. Jewelry in your favorite gemstones or ones that matched your eyes. Diamonds in every form, shape, and size. Clothing made of the finest imported materials. Desserts from around the world that were made for queens. Hundreds of dollars of perfumes in your favorite scents. Anything and everything just for you.

Takes your periods very seriously. He somehow knows your cycle better than you do. Tracks it like his life depends on it. He knows that your period is coming days before you're even aware that its time. The morning it starts, he's already got everything on hand. Whatever things work best for your period. A heating pad or ice packs, a bottle of Midol, and every snack and drink that you crave. He'll have the base kitchens make bulk desserts just to have on hand for you. Ice cream is already in the freezer. You're aching or bloated? The bath is already full and has your favorite bath oils added. That metal arm does wonders to massage your aching muscles. If you need something weighted for your cramps, what better than a buff soldier to lie on top of you! (If you need any kind of release, Red Leader isn't afraid of a little blood ;3)

If you ever get pregnant? Forget ever getting up for any reason other than daily exercise that's healthy for you and the baby. Even then, you're only allowed to walk around you and Red Leader's living quarters or out in the grassy training grounds with Red Leader by your side the entire time. Other than that, you are confined to bed or couch rest at all times. You are literally growing his child every hour of the day for the next nine months. Red Leader doesn't want you even thinking of doing anything other than resting and being the amazing person that you are. He'll do everything that the base doctors said would be good for you and the baby. He makes vitamin and herbal drinks for you, gets you every craving, and makes sure you're at top health. He deals with your shifting hormones without ever making a fuss. The affection is cranked to maximum - with the gift-giving having the added bonus of baby oriented items. He was never happier than when he sat on the floor of the nursery, putting together your new IKEA crib while you researched nursery themes on Pinterest in the plush chair against the wall. Not to mention, he increased base security more than ever during those nine months. He didn't want any of his enemies even sneezing within 1,000 miles of the base without him knowing about it. Not when the love of his life was more vulnerable and fragile than ever.

Tord's father in this timeline would be proud of the man he raised. Women are a gift to this world and deserve to be treated as such. Reader is Tord's entire world and he wants her to feel like it.

[yuukskillsworld]

Ronin w a nerdy and/or geeky (i don’t know the difference between them, sorry—) reader, who somehow turns everything into a reference? I feel like he’d start picking up on the jokes lol

Love ur writing btw !!!

"Reference Point" - Ronin x Nerdy!Reader

Shoutout to the absolute legend who requested this—Ronin falling for a reference-making nerd? Obsessed. Hope you enjoy, sweetie.<3

Genre: Fluff with some romantic tension

Word count: ~1,200

written by yuukskillsworld<3

WARNINGS: Mild suggestive humor, canon-typical mentions of violence (very subtle, no action or gore), swearing (mild — e.g., “hell”), Ronin being dangerously charming (yes, that counts)

Ronin wasn’t a man of many words—he didn’t need to be. Silence suited him better. It was useful, threatening when it needed to be, and seductive when he wanted it to be. Most people were unnerved by it.

Not you.

“Did you just Batman your way in here again?” you asked, barely looking up from your manga. “You’re like... one smoke bomb away from a full Gotham entrance.”

He leaned against the doorframe of your cluttered safehouse room, arms crossed over his chest. The flickering neon light from your anime posters painted pink and green lines over his scarred jaw. “If I knew what the hell that meant, Darlin’, maybe I’d be flattered.”

You grinned and tossed the volume aside. “I’ll take that as permission to explain. Batman. The guy who just appears and vanishes. Broody. Wears black. Daddy issues.”

Ronin chuckled, low and almost fond. “That you callin’ me broody?”

“I'm calling you a whole Christopher Nolan trilogy.”

He didn’t respond right away—just stepped in, slow like the air itself bent around him. You didn’t flinch when he reached out and plucked a Captain Levi keychain off your desk. Spun it between two fingers. His eyes narrowed. “This one reminds me of you. All short, snappy, and full of attitude.”

“Oh my God,” you gasped. “You know who Levi is.”

He gave a smug little shrug. “Picked it up. You don’t shut up about ‘em.”

You blinked. “...You listen?”

“I remember what matters.” He leaned in slightly. “And you always talk about the things you love like you’d die for ‘em. Gets my attention.”

Your heart stuttered. He was too good at that—getting under your skin without even trying. So you covered it with sarcasm, like always. “So what, next thing I know, you’ll be quoting Lord of the Rings mid-fight?”

“If I do, I expect a kiss for effort.”

“Ronin!”

“What?” he laughed. “Seems fair. I dive through blades for you and mutter somethin’ about walkin’ into Mordor—boom. Kiss.”

“You are Mordor,” you mumbled, turning away to hide the flush.

He stepped closer. Too close. “Then does that make you the hobbit, Darlin’? Always talkin’, stubborn as hell, and somehow surviving stuff you shouldn’t?”

You gave a lopsided smile. “You have been paying attention.”

“Told you. Couldn’t ignore you if I tried.” His voice dropped, silk and smoke. “You make the world louder, brighter. Hell, half the time I don’t know what you’re referencing, but I still find myself smilin’.”

Silence stretched between you, warm and almost fragile.

“...You gonna kiss me now or what?” he asked, eyes sharp but lips tilted.

You grinned, stepping up till your nose almost bumped his. “Only if you say ‘this is the way.’”

His groan was half-laugh, half-exasperated, but he leaned down anyway.

“This is the way, Darlin’.”

Thanks for the killer idea, sweet thing. Ronin approves—and so do I.

I hope that I fulfilled your request, dear! <3

Credits:

-> dividers: @dollywons

-> photo: Pinterest