#top chubby baby

[softroundbunny]

is it terrible of me if i have a small list in my head that has people who i’d realistically let breed me …

like some of you are just very cute and i’d definitely want to have your baby LOLLSHLSJD

[gorillaxyz]

he looks fab here

[nonokoko-draws]

The sillies

Link to the template post (@alliaro on Twitter)

[beautifulfaces2020]

Your friendly reminder to never get the fat sucked out of ur face. gemma ward then and now, still stunning! Because she never ruined her buccal fat 💗

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon’s never given much thought to babies before.

When he was younger, enough time was spent scorning his father and the childhood he was depriving him of, that any thoughts of becoming a dad himself one day were nonexistent. As far as he was concerned, he was essentially already a stand in parent to his younger brother.

As he grew older and enlisted, his life becoming one that consisted of nothing more than violence and destruction and terror, he thought the odds of him surviving into his 30’s were so slim that he need never bother worrying about having a ‘next of kin’.

That was until, he met you, of course.

Because now that Simon Riley has you in his life, he’s not quite so pessimistic about his existence the way he once was, doesn’t picture a foreboding dark cloud when he considers what his future could be. What a future with you could be.

Still, as much time as the two of you spend actually engaging in the baby making process, Simon really only considers babies as being something that other people have, not him.

Not with his line of work, not with the risks that come alongside the territory, not when he already can barely stand to leave you for deployment, let alone leave you behind with a child on top of everything.

No, Simon is perfectly content with his life where babies are just another anomale.

But then, your best friend announces she’s pregnant. And the sight of you holding a positive pregnancy test in your hands, changes something within him.

Suddenly, Simon is noticing chubby, drooling little infants everywhere he goes.

Fat babies shoved into the uncomfortable looking seats of grocery carts pass by him in the shops, crying babies strapped to their mums on the tube, sleeping babies being pushed around in their prams without a care in the world. Even on base, he notices more people talking about their children, showing off picture of their offspring.

He’s looking at you a little different as well. His gaze on you will darken as you and your friend chat about baby names, casually mentioning the ones that you like for yourself. His grip will tighten around the shopping cart when you wave to passing babies, making them giggle. He’s surprised at the way his cock twitches when you pretend to hold a breast pump up to your own chest, wrapping the baby shower gift you’d gotten her.

It only takes so long for you to notice the change in him as well.

You’ll be strolling through the park on a chilly morning when a young family goes by, Simon muttering something about how the little bald headed infant ‘should have a hat on for fuck’s sake, cold out ‘ere’. You’ll be in the shops, when suddenly Simon returns holding a pair of teeny tiny baby shoes in his hand, appearing comically small in his large calloused palms, wondering if maybe your friend would like them. You’re sitting outside a cafe while a pair of chubby cheeked babies are sat in their strollers staring at Simon as if their lives depended on it. You’re giggling to yourself, watching your boyfriend stare right back at these little girls, when the 6’4” tank of a man slowly lifts a gloved hand and waves at them, earning a pair of gummy smiles in return.

The most evident change in Simon however, is in bed.

Almost overnight, he goes from never having considered children, to suddenly dedicating every effort to getting you pregnant by the end of the year, month, week.

[goaskangel]

simon ‘ghost’ riley overstimulating his sweet gf !

cw : headlock, overstim, slight dubcon, slapping, sexy ass simon

poor you, thinking your bulky boyfriend would return stressed and in need of some relief. a massage maybe, a good lunch, a small kiss from his darling. as logical as it sounds, simon came back with an urge that he just couldn’t get rid off. 

greeted with a geared up, tall man, you can’t even finish a hi baby before he practically walks all over you. pushing you inside, his gloved palms immediately finding their place on your waist and chest, closing the front door. 

“so fuckin’ tough it is,” he squeezes your face as he towers over you, “bein’ away from you.” 

he finds himself breathing in the soft scent of your hair, leaning deep into your neck and kissing your neck behind his cloth mask. you drop gently into his arms as he holds you close. the intoxicating aroma of his natural musk and smokiness of gunpowder radiating from beneath his gear. 

later, even after telling him how you’ve cooked for him, cleaned the sheets for him, organized the home so it’s all cozy for him, simon tells you he’ll get to it but for right now, he needs you. you laid back across his still geared body, his dirty, mean, mean words right above your ear. his heavy attachments bruising your half nude top and back of your hips as he forces you to stay down, his left arm down to hold your left leg open as his thick, right fingers pump thoroughly into your cunt. 

“ngh-mmm, simon!” you moan out desperately as he pulls what feels like your fifteenth orgasm. your legs shaking from the coerced impact, your slick dribbling down your open thighs onto his getup. your face being as wet, flushed cheeks covered in tears. 

he doesn’t care, in fact he’s awfully amused by the reaction he’s managed to get out of you, the reaction he’s been dreaming about. 

“gonna give me anotha one, yeah?” his bare fingers circle your chubby, raw clit. 

“mm-mm, can’t. don’t wanna.” you yelp and arch off his stomach when he sends a harsh slap! onto your pussy. “hell you mean you ‘don’t wanna’? ya cunt’s tellin’ me otherwise, dovey. be good now n don’t lie to me, or i’ll really hurt ya.” emphasizing on the word hurt as he leaves your limp leg to wrap his husky arm snug around your head, choking another cry out from you. 

“yeah? you got tha’?” you nod profusely as much you can, making him chuckle to your barely able form. 

the sensitivity doesn’t go down, now instead of being able to see his skilled forearm fidget in and out of you, you can only feel it. staring at the dim ceiling with teary eyes with his heavy breathing and whispers.

a very subtle yet strong wave of pleasure washes over you as you thrash and whine under his pressured hold. “yeeeaah, was that so hard?” he lets go of you, his mask under his lower lip as he kisses your dazed face. all he wanted was to make you feel good, lovey!

masterlist

[levisjinchuriki]

more to love - toji fushiguro

summary: toji loves a curvy woman and isn’t shy about it

warning: nsfw, curses, praise kink, dom!toji, chubby reader, body worship, afab reader, mention of female anatomy, mention of cunnilingus, backshots, petnames, spanking, booty rubs, fluff, smut, overstimulation

toji has always been a man who knows exactly what he likes, and when it comes to women, curves are at the top of his list. he’s noticed the weight you’ve put on recently and how your clothes hug you more than usual. when you’re near him, the way your curves catch his gaze doesn’t go unnoticed. every time you walk by, he can’t help but let his eyes roam over you, savoring the shape of your body, the way your hips sway and how your curves fit perfectly in the clothes you wear

toji can't help but bring you into his lap when you walk past him in your– now form-fitted– pajama pants. “you’ve been filling out, huh?" he asks as he gropes your thighs. everywhere i look, you’re getting even softer. these pants fit you perfectly now”.

toji's touch becomes more insistent. he’ll slide his hands under your shirt to feel your stomach pudge, loving how soft and squishy it is. “so pretty, mama. can’t get enough of you”

toji isn’t shy about making you aware of his appreciation for the changes in your body. the softness, the fullness—it’s all his to claim. the way toji touches you—unapologetically, with no room for shame— makes you feel so sexy. while you straddle his lap, his touch is possessive as he feels your hips, your stomach and your back rolls. “fucking perfect” he growls as he takes greedy handfuls of your ass

toji likes to absentmindedly rub comforting circles on your butt as you lay with him. you’ll be watching tv, laying on his chest and slowly falling asleep as he softly rubs you there. it's more of a comfort thing for him.

toji likes to take a nap on your stomach since he claims it’s the perfect pillow. he also is a sucker for your thighs and often rests his head against one as he cuddles your leg. when you run your fingers through his hair, he’s done for– falling asleep almost instantly every time

toji in the bedroom is another beast, and there’s no question where his hands will wander. he’ll make sure that ass is front and center, exploring, groping, teasing, and worshipping. toji will pull you into him, sliding his hands over her curves, especially when you’re bent over for him. he likes the control he has when his hands are on your hips, guiding you, making you move to his rhythm. he'll give you a few sharp smacks, especially if you’ve been teasing him with your movements. 

toji’s hands splay over your skin as you arch for him. he moves to caress the curve of your lower back before sliding lower, over the swell of your hips. he leans down, his chest brushing against your back as his lips press a searing kiss to your shoulder. “you feel so fucking good” he moans low and husky. his lips trail down your spine, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the way. his teeth graze your skin, playful and teasing while his hand slides over your stomach to hold you steady. “stay just like that” he commands softly. the way he holds you, the way he presses into you—it’s all-consuming. he knows exactly how to take his time, alternating between rough and tender, making you dizzy.

toji's backshots are mean. the grip on your waist is harsh as he lets out a low groan. his eyes lock on where you two meet and he’s almost hypnotized by the way your skin ripples under his movements. he feels too good that you can’t help but squirm in his grasp. “uh uh, c’mere” he mutters, his hands pressing down on your back to force a deeper arch that has you gasping. “where you goin’, huh?” he asks as he gives you a few spanks. the angle makes you gasp as he hits that perfect spot over and over. you reach back, weakly trying to push against his abs as you cry from pleasure, but it’s no use. “c’mon, baby. lemme have it”.

toji will tease you even more now since there’s more skin to work with. his lips run along your skin, leaving gentle kisses as his thumb brushing over the edge of your waistband. his lips trail higher, leaving warm, lingering kisses, and your breath catches when you feel his teeth graze against the soft flesh of your thigh. it’s not a gentle nip; toji’s bite is firm, enough to leave a mark, but you’re not complaining. he leans in again, his lips now pressing soft, teasing kisses on the bruised area, as if marking his territory. you can’t help but moan softly, your hands threading through his hair, urging him to continue. the way he’s focused on every inch of your skin, makes your pulse race. toji knows exactly how to drive you crazy, how to make you want him more with each deliberate touch.

toji's dream is to be smothered between your thighs as he eats you out. he loves overstimulating you. he does it on purpose so he can feel you squeezing your trembling legs around his head as he works you through your release. he’ll hold your legs open, kneading at the flesh as he pleasures you. and he won’t stop until you tap out

toji whispers “you’re everything i’ve ever wanted” when he's come down from an intense a few rounds. his hands are on you, lips pressed to your skin, and his voice low and filled with raw emotion. his praises make you feel completely cherished. toji isn’t just touching you—he’s worshipping you, wanting you to know just how much he loves every inch of you. and he makes sure to remind you constantly

—

a/n: thank you for reading!! i wrote another version similar to this, but with chubby toji!! you can read it here!

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 3 | masterlist

-

It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.

How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 

It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.

You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.

“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.

“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.

“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”

You swallow. Nod again.

The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”

“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”

“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”

She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 

It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 

Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 

“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 

Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.

It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 

The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 

In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 

In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 

A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 

You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”

John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”

The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 

When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 

“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 

Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 

“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”

He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 

Late night rain.

It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 

You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 

Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 

You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 

“It’s not…that bad…”

“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.

The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 

“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 

“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”

There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 

John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 

You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 

He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 

“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 

You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 

“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”

“Like where?” you ask dubiously.

“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”

His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 

You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 

You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 

“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”

“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”

John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 

“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”

After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 

The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.

The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 

He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 

Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 

You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 

Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 

“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”

“You hot?” he asks.

The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 

“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 

Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 

It must be the heat making you act this way. 

“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”

He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 

A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 

“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 

You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 

The heat is just—

Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 

Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 

It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 

His palms are slick on your skin. 

Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 

When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 

“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 

As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 

Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 

“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just…too good. Shit.”

Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 

His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 

Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 

The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  

When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”

“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”

You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 

“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 

It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 

That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 

“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”

“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”

His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 

A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 

The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 

When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 

“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”

“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 

Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 

“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 

His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 

“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 

You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.

[annievrse]

dad!sukuna!!!

—ᡣ𐭩 blurb a/n: based on this tiktok that gave me insane baby fever

the birds chirping outside in the dawn light makes your daughter giggle from where she stands in your bedroom doorway.

"baby," you whisper to her, beckoning her over to your side of the bed. "c'mere."

your 3-year-old wobbles around the bed, having gotten out of bed by herself. she stands before you with her hands out and grabs your arms.

"layla," you whisper, glancing over your shoulder at your husband, whose hair pokes out wildly from under the duvet. "tell daddy mommy wants a coffee."

your daughter's wide eyes round, and she tilts her head. "cowe?"

you suppress a giggle. "coffee."

"coppee?"

"yeah, good enough," you mumble, nodding. and then you lift her onto the bed. layla clambers over your body and falls face-first into the space between you and sukuna, her pink hair splayed everywhere.

you slap your mouth with your palm to stop the laughs from escaping. your husband stirs, groaning deeply under the white blankets. she looks over at you with a smile on her face, and you give her a single thumbs up.

"dada," layla says, climbing on top of him. "wake up!"

"hi, babygirl," sukuna slurs, eyes half open.

"i want coppee."

"hm? what?"

"coppee!"

"coffee...?" sukuna takes a moment to process the word and then looks at you over his shoulder, eyes puffy. "really, bro?"

you giggle, hiding your face in the blankets.

"you want coffee..." sukuna says, pointing at your daughter. "you go get it."

"no, mummy wants coppee! you get it!" she giggles, chubby finger aimed at him, too.

“noooo,” he whines, though it’s barely one. he shoves his face back into his pillow. “you.”

“daddy!” your daughter yells. “coppee!!”

sukuna scoffs a laugh and rubs his eye with his knuckle while your daughter dances around the room singing, "coppee, coppee!"

"you're lucky you're cute," sukuna grumbles, swinging his bare legs out of the bed, looking over at you as he does so. "you too."

[merakidoll]

vi the pussy destroyer 🫧🎀⭐️

“oh cmon baby why all the tears?” vi’s fake pout only had your legs twitching more. your arms were bound by the pink cuffs that rattled against the bed. your chubby frame shaking and your legs quivering from vi’s assault between them. “it feels good princess?” you hummed against the gag that was soaked in your saliva. your eyes rolling to the back of your head as she blew gently on your hot cunt. she moved down to suck on your puffy pink clit that was fat and sensitive from her previous assault.

her slanted eyes looked up at you, a glint that you could catch even through the cloud of tears. a smirk came onto vi’s face; her tattooed back flexing as she moved up on your body, so that her perky breast were in front of your weeping pussy. “just wanna make my baby feel good” vi said to herself gripping her nipple and moaning at how just a simple touch could feel so good. your eyes clouded with tears once again when vi moved her cool nipple to rub against your clit. “mmmm” your thrashed against the bed your legs shooting to the air while vi moaned to herself basking in the double sided pleasure.

“love this fuckin pussy!” vi growled roughly pushing your legs back down and sitting herself between them. your legs got intangled together, vi’s sopping hot cunt bucking against your own. her head was throw back, the muffled moans and delicious sound your cunts made together overtaking the room. you felt light headed. the constant bumping to your clit and how sexy vi looked above you, her left nipples covered in your essence as they slightly bounced.

your eyes were low, your legs shaking even more - if possible - while your squirt shot out painting vi’s pussy. “oh s-shitttt” her eyes went wide feeling your pussy pulse against her own, her thighs wet from you squirt. rubbing against you harder she bit her lip, stomach churning while she looked you in the eyes creaming with a loud fuck echoing out in the room. her body shudder falling on top of you where you both breathed heavy. vi laughed at your slight snores loving how fucked out you looked.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Yandere CEO who is serious and strict but becomes a real puppy at the reader's feet, he gives everything the reader wants and kneels before him asking to be able to touch and give pleasure to the reader.

Yandere CEO x male reader imagines~! ૮꒰ྀི ⸝⸝․․⸝⸝ ྀི꒱ა

A/N (I did the Yandere as a sub top and I thought of the Yandere being mid forties while reader being late twenties because I thought it fit best anon!) <33

Just imagining Yandere CEO being a complete heartless man to the world, old and cold as they say. Until he seen your resume running across his desk and if you told him of love at first sight he would scoff at you and kick you out but oh my, when he seen the small picture of you next to your resume he didn’t even care to read it because this man was going to have you. The only words he could think of was “he must’ve been crafted by the gods, I bet Adonis himself spent his life carving those lips” shivers went through him dialing your number trying to get a interview with you.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who hires you at first for your pretty face making you his assistant putting you a desk in his office wanting all eight hours of your days to be spent close as he can get to you, being soft and sweet for you unlike his mean and cold demeanor with the rest of his employees. he’d glance over at you typing something on your computer quietly asking “are you alright? Did you need a break, your hands aren’t sore are they?….i can get you into a nice spa if you’d like. I don’t want my best employee burnt out”

Just imagining Yandere CEO who gets you gifts on the daily nearly pouting if you tell him not to, all he wants is for you to cling to him! He’d beg and plead asking you to let him suck you off whispering in your ear “let me help you out, boy?…I wanna ease you up a bit, you deserve the best so just let me give it to you” he’d mumble getting on his knees and massaging your thighs nice and gentle getting your cock out of your slacks worshipping it nuzzling his face into it peppering your angry tip with wet kisses.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who sends you flowers takes you on fancy trips. Sending you to Rome with him when he goes to sort out business you’re sitting somewhere in a fancy restaurant holding his black card telling you “buy anything you want, I wanna spoil you baby..” and by the time he gets back to your five star hotel room all he asks os for all your affection groaning into your ears holding you by the waist bucking and thrusting his hips up into you from beneath murmuring on and on rambling having you on his cock sending shivers through him “oh you’re so perfect~ pretty little thing~ hng oh fuck moan a little louder you sound angelic like that—“ he’d whimper spilling into you nibbling on your shoulder softly.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who asks you all sweetly if he can have you cock warm him while he manages files, pleading just wanting to please you wanting to have you all sprawled out like a happy cat with his chubby tip pressing and massaging your walls just bullying your prostate while he tugs at your cock like its glass having you orgasming more times than you can count pleasing you like it’s his life’s mission “c’mon baby boy, one more for me? I know you can push it out shhh doin perfect there’s a good boy”

Just imagining Yandere CEO who loves your chest, worshipping them as his holy grail sucking at hurrying his fave in your pretty s/c pecks. Nibbling at your nipples pressing little kisses to your peaks using his hands to massage them while he rotates back and forth making sure each one gets the perfect amount of attention “they are so beautiful sweetheart, god your skin tastes so divine” it was like sex polling with your skin covered in the finest nectar for him driving him insane hazily looking up at you with complete and utter infatuation.

[stellawish]

precious

summary: just cuteness thats it

MY LOVE❤️‍🔥

he’s not up yet?

nah steel sleeping😴

okay omw

Satoru looked away from the phone and glanced at his son. He rubbed his still-closed eyes with tiny fists. Gojo expected crying, but his baby just sighed.

Your son almost always woke up without fuss, greeting you or Satoru with his sweet smile. But lately, he’s been crying more often during that fine line between the sweet remnants of sleep and waking up. Teething is to blame.

Satoru turned to his side, placed his large palm on Haru’s plump belly, and slowly stroked it. "Papa’s here."

Although Gojo always sulks when the little boy sleeps (since his baby is so cute and he always wants to play with him), there have been times when he accidentally woke Haru during naps because he kissed and poked his chubby son too hard. You always scold him for that.

But now he understands that his little one sleeps restlessly, so he tries to protect his light sleep.

Lost in thought, Gojo didn’t notice any movement beside him until he felt tiny fingers wrapping around his much larger one.

Haru turned his head and smiled sweetly, revealing dimples on his flushed cheeks.

"Hi, baby! Did you have a good nap?"

Your son stretched his short arms, then rolled onto his stomach, smiling shyly. Gojo pulled him closer, supporting his back. Sitting next to him, Haru rubbed his sleepy eyes and yawned.
Gojo kissed his son’s soft tummy.

Haru moved even closer to his father, rubbing his chubby cheek against Gojo's like a kitten.

"Aww, my baby!"

Your husband definitely passed on the gene for the love of physical contact to his boy.

Satoru cooed, "I missed you too! Now tell Papa, what dreams did you have? Was Mama there?" Haru babbled as if answering the question.

When you said you gave birth to an exact copy of Gojo, you weren't even kidding. Besides the identical appearance, your son was just as talkative as his papa.

Gojo lay on his back and put his son on top. Haru reached out his hands to Papa's face and patted his cheeks while giggling. Satoru wiped the drool from his rosy lips and stroked his soft cheek.

"You're the most precious baby in the whole world," Gojo cooed.

"Ahuu"

more dad!gojo and Haru HERE

guys if you want me to add you to my taglist lmk

luv you!💫

all rights reserved ©stellawish. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[dmitriene]

simon riley has a home, not a particularly big house in quiet neighborhood, a place where he doesn't wears his gear and doesn't has a knife pocketed at his thigh, where he doesn't hides under another identity, remaining just simon, a sated man with a sweet wife and a chubby baby at his hip, a civilian life he's so desperately tried to seek and that you gifted him.

home with a bright, spacious kitchen where you stood each morning together, with simon's hefty form cloaking you from behind, thick hands trailing under the satin of your nightie, bunching the fabric on your front, where you're pressed against the wood of the kitchen counter, your cat walking on top, before meowing lightly and jumping off onto the floor, knowing that it's best for her to leave you two to be, furling into another room through half opened door.

baby sleeping in the crib, peacefully, a soft lulling melody wafting through the chilly air of the room that keeps your girl sleeping tight, door closed slightly to muffle any possible sounds from disturbing her sleep, your mellowy sounds that slip past your parted lips when simon teases his thick fingers against your sopping folds, cupping your warm pussy beneath the cotton of your panties, swiping across your slit and gathering the oozing slick there.

a family, the one simon would protect with everything he has, to keep you, his sweet wife, always by his side, with your pretty finger adorned by the sparkly, wedding ring that matches his, cooling against your swollen clit where he can't stop teasing you, spreading your folds to the morning air, dripping wet and taking every inch of his girthy cock gracefully, spasming around the girth he feeds you, squeezed tight in your thin, gummy walls.

muffling your hiccuping cries, simon's hips bouncing against your ass, squeezed in his rough palm through the fabric of your nightie, fat supple and spilling from his fingers, as his heavy balls press and slap against your folds, drippy with your slick and his tacky precome, matting the tangle of fuzzed curls of hair on his pelvic and meaty thighs, muscles tensing with webbing heat in his soft belly, rolls of skin rubbing against the small of your back, as he folds himself over you.

he kisses the molassed whimpers from your lips with his searing mouth, pummels into your pussy when your gooey walls flutter and clench, rippling, stuffed full of the thick girth that grinds against your small, sens spot and makes you claw painfully at the wood of the counter, simon's hand gathering your wrist, tying them together by his fingers, the same that currently flick across the small bundle of your nerves, swollen, full of pumping blood, when you cry out loud in the soft furl of his lips.

your darling girl still asleep, cat curled against her small form, tail draped over her slowly breathing body and prolonging her sleep, unable to hear the heavy breaths coming out from the kitchen and the breathy giggles simon completes to devour off from your lips, with his clashing teeth's and greedy tongue, despite your panties being sodden and his cum trailing down the underside of your doughy thighs in viscous, glistening globs.

a home, with a smell of fresh breakfast curling and dissolving into the air of the room, as you stand behind the stove, watching the two sizzling pans as simon busies himself in helping your baby brush her teeth, cradling her against his chest, as she babbles groggily, already all over his ears, as he chuckles hoarsely, bundling her against the bend of his elbow, walking back to the kitchen with a cat meowing at his feet, hungry too.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[rafeysbunny]

heyyyyyyyy! I have a thought. Do you think that reader could get rafe to beg? Like maybe he did smth that pissed reader off so she’s been ignoring him but rage just can’t take it anymore? I love your writing so honestly just go crazy

-👻 anon

a/n. first ask, i'm so excited! in answer to your question: yes! absolutely, yes! this man is soo pussy whipped, he'd do anything for reader. ty for the request, babe!

two hours of you giving rafe the cold shoulder it's all it takes for him to break. he knows he fucked up greatly, but you're just being so mean that he cannot help the way his lips curl into a pout as he kneels in front of you, pleading for your forgiveness.

only you could get rafe motherfucking cameron to beg like this.

"baby, 'm so, so sorry," he apologizes, big hands gripping onto your plush thighs tightly so you can't get away from him this time, not again. "forgive me, yeah? i know i screwed up, and i'm sorry."

his lips start peppering kisses over the sliver of bare skin under the hem of your top as he keeps muttering words of repentance, the actions making your heart melt. "it won't happen again, i promise to you, angel."

"i'm really pissed at you right now, rafe," you address him for the first time in hours, voice tone sharp.

he doesn't care how cold you sound, though, the fact that you're finally talking to him instead of ignoring his presence nearly makes him cry happy tears. how embarrassing is that? he can't believe you got him this hooked. he should be the one in charge, not you, but, let's be honest, he's too in love with you to even care anymore.

"i know, baby, i'm sorry," he repeats for the hundredth time, puppy, blue eyes staring up at you entreatingly. "what can i do for you to forgive me? i'll do anything, just please, stop being mad."

"anything?"

a mischievous smirk spreads across your pretty face, your mind already conjuring up all the filthy ways he could make it up to you.

"anything, angel."

that's how he ends up tied up to the bed, hands desperately tugging at the fluffy, pink handcuffs in a failed attempt to break free of them while you ride his pretty face. he's fucking drowning in your pussy, dick achingly hard inside his pants.

what a shame you won't make him cum this time, as a little punishment.

your hips rock against his face unabashedly, feeling the way his eager tongue parts your chubby folds to drink up your sweet essence, occasionally slipping inside your pussy to fuck you with it. his nose is rubbing your puffy clit every time you grind down, which has you mewling and shuddering atop him.

"i love you so much, baby," he'd mumble against your cunt, totally mesmerised by the hypnotic sway of your hips and your taste.

your flesh muffle his words and grunts, but you understand what he says and look down at him with adoring eyes, just to find him staring up at you in the same way, pink lips glistening with a combination of your arousal and his spit.

the sight is enough to send you spiralling into a mind blowing orgasm that makes you let out the most lewd moan you've ever made, body shaking as your legs close around his head, almost suffocating him.

"fuck, i love you too," you breath out, the aftershocks of your climax making your brain dizzy. "i forgive you, rafey."

honestly, he doesn't quite understand how this could be a punishment for him, but he's not one to complain.

more.

[goaskangel]

riding buff gojo raw >_^

satoru just loves how soft you feel on his clothed body. your chubby mellow thighs snug against his own as you lean him up against the headboard. your hips digging to the bottom of his torso when you push to kiss him soo lovingly. 

kissing him like he’ll disappear if you let his face go. and satoru kisses you back with more love. a couple worshipping each other passionately. after a few pecks just for good measure, he admires you carefully. fixing the turned strap of your thin tank top and sides of your creased panties, “so beautiful, angel.” 

you squeeze his thick, hard bicep as he strokes your neck with one hand and holds your hip in the other.

kissing his soft wrist, “let me ride you, ‘toru.” 

“mmm,” he hums, “go ahead, baby.” 

like routine, you sit back just behind his bulge and tug down on his pants, tossing them. your mouth going dry at the sight of his cock tightly snug under his boxers, which are later thrown to the same pile. he naturally grabs a large condom from the nightstand, tearing it open with his teeth before rolling it down his length.

although curious, he distracts himself from watching you tie your hair up out of your face. only stopping after he’s completed it down, watching how you back up some more to lean down to his thighs. 

you kiss the pale skin around his now plump base, pecking at the white hairs below his navel. you continue this act of sudden calm. peppering your love around your favorite, keeping your eyes on his covered cock, licking teasingly at the latex. gojo feels himself throb at your tranquility, your patience making him feel dazed.

“what’s up with you, baby? so eager before –” his amused smile dropping lightly when you look back up at him. he recognizes that ruttish desire behind your eyes, your wide gaze conveying so much more. 

you tongue at the loose tip of the condom, sliding your tongue down to the base ring. opening your mouth just a little more, revealing your teeth and biting carefully. you keep the eye contact, enjoying how hypnotized the big guy looked. you peel it back off and throw it down to the pile of clothes. the pile of things keeping him away from you. before he can call any objections, you move closer to him, “know you wan’ it, ‘toru.” 

sultry, so sensual he thinks as you discard your other restrictions. soft top and pretty bra gone. you keep a steady hold on his shoulders as he holds his now raw cock up for you to sink down on. 

“you bratty girl, could’ve just told me you wanted to feel me from the in–side,” his head sexily throws back as he lets out a loud groan. your cunt fluttering against the new feeling of skin to skin, his sticky tip pushing through your tight, hot walls. 

“but you just had to pull off a little show, huh?” he gathers his composure and dominance, his big hands finding their way to the fat of your hips as you sit with him bottomed out inside. 

“i‘m sorry, ‘toru.” your little apology meaning nothing when you cry out moans as you move up and down and up and down on his lap. 

“huh, shit, guess it’s fine, pretty. feels s’fucking good. lucky you’re cute.” 

you slowly lose stamina but keep humping down against him, keeping yourself caved into his neck. breathing heavily into his sweaty neck before whining softly into his ear. your noises make him twitch and pulse inside you. your bounces regain power after feeling a thick vein rub against your sweet spot, which also happens to be gojo’s most sensitive part. quickly, you move to chase your high, the burning sensation of being so so so close so fast sends you blabbering. 

“gonna come, satoru, i’m gonna c–ome…!” your pretty fingers dig into his neck and back, leaving red marks that he can’t focus on,

“mhhm, gonna come too, baby, keep going. ohmygod ‘m never gonna fuck you with that stupid shit again, jus’ raw from now, yeah? feel this pretty pussy on my cock.”  how could he have gone so long without feeling you? really feeling you? having your moans ring in his ears and your pretty soft body squished on his strong, lean one was already so perfect. but having your bare cunt squeeze and hug his cock sent him to the edge, literally. 

his hard grip bruises your waist as he shoots out a thick heavy load right against your cervix. he swears he heard you mumble thank you’s as you come around him. the fuzzy warmth from his cum and dizziness from your intense orgasm overwhelms you and you lean up against him to lay on him. satoru kisses your sweet scented hair, deciding he’s throwing out every rubber in the house!

masterlist

[rafecameronssl4t]

Deal or deal? || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

gif by @rafeyscurtainbangs

Summary: inspired by this scene in ep 4 but with my own twist and it’s dad!rafe x reader w/ Mabel 😍

Warnings: nothing rlly!

Word count: 1,075

A/n: hey so um I caved in couldn't resist writing at least one fic w the new season during my break...

MASTERLIST (dad!Rafe au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

You walk into the ensuite bathroom as you adjust Mabel on your hip. Her little hands curl around your shoulder, her head nestling against your neck. The soft scent of baby powder clings to her skin, and despite the busyness of the morning, there’s always something calming about her presence. Rafe stands by the counter, packing the beach bag with towels, sunscreen, and toys, his movements relaxed yet purposeful.

He looks up as you approach, his sharp blue eyes softening. “You’re just in time,” he says, zipping the bag with a quick motion and setting it aside. You smile back, setting Mabel in her bouncer next to him. "Thought I’d let you handle the sunscreen part," you tease, brushing your fingers gently over Mabel's soft curls. Rafe chuckles and kneels beside her, his large hands dwarfing the bottle of sunscreen as he carefully squirts a bit onto his fingers.

"Alright, princess, we don’t want you burning up, do we?” he murmurs, gently applying the cream to her chubby cheeks. His touch is so soft, filled with care, as Mabel giggles, her tiny hands reaching for his face. You smile, pressing a kiss to the top of Mabel’s head. She gurgles happily, her tiny feet kicking as she looks around, wide-eyed and curious. You turn away, heading toward the closet where your bikini is draped over a chair. The fabric feels cool in your hands as you slip it on, the rich colour contrasting with your skin.

“So,” you begin, your voice casual but carrying a note of seriousness, “I was thinking… about that business opportunity that came up last week.” You glance over your shoulder as Rafe’s eyes flick up from Mabel, curiosity piqued. “The investment thing?” “Yeah,” you say, fumbling a little as you try to tie the back of your bikini. “I really think you should go for it." He stands, moving closer, his eyes shifting between your face and your chest as you adjust it.

"Turn around," he mutters, his hands brushing against your back as he pulls the strings into a neat knot. His fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary, and when you glance at the mirror, you catch the way his eyes roam over you—an intensity in his gaze that sends a slight shiver through you. "You really think it’s that good of a deal?" he asks, his voice low, his hands hovering at your waist. You meet his gaze through the mirror, feeling the heat of his hands lingering at the small of your back.

"Yeah, don't you?" You adjust the bikini strap on your shoulder. His hands drop to rest lightly on your hips, and for a second, he doesn't' respond. Lightly biting your lip as you wait for a response, he meets your gaze in the mirror, a slight smirk playing on his lips. His eyes stay locked on you, a mix of thoughtfulness and something more. "I think you should go for it." Rafe’s eyes darken with thought, but his smirk doesn’t fade. He pulls you a little closer, his grip firm but gentle, his chest pressing against your back.

“God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?” His tone is a mixture of amusement and consideration. You give him a playful look over your shoulder. “That’s what I’ve been saying. You’d be stupid not to take it.” He chuckles, his breath warm against the side of your neck as his lips brush against your skin, slowly at first. “You always know how to push me in the right direction,” he murmurs, the teasing lilt in his voice sending a warmth down your spine.

His hands glide up from your hips to your waist, pulling you just a little closer. You let out a soft breath, your heart quickening as his kisses trail lower. "You could make so much freakin’ money, Rafe,” you say, your voice a little breathless. Rafe grins against your skin, “Could I, now?” His voice is a teasing drawl as his lips move along your skin, causing a ripple of warmth to spread through you. You laugh softly, leaning back against him. “I’m serious!"

“So am I,” he whispers, his kisses slow and deliberate. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, his touch firm but tender. But just as you start to sink into the moment, Mabel lets out a whine, breaking through the intimate bubble. You both pause, exchanging a look before bursting into quiet laughter. Rafe pulls away first, shaking his head as he glances at Mabel. “Perfect timing, huh?” he says, his smirk playful but affectionate.

You walk over to Mabel, scooping her into your arms as she quiets down instantly, snuggling into your chest. “Guess we’re not the only ones who need attention,” you joke, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Rafe grins, his eyes following you. “She’s just jealous,” he says, tossing a towel into the beach bag. Rafe smirks, watching the two of you, his earlier intensity replaced with something softer. You laugh, bouncing Mabel lightly in your arms as she grabs onto your bikini strap with her tiny hand.

“Can you blame her? You spoil me,” you tease, glancing up at him. Rafe leans against the counter, his eyes never leaving you. “I’ll think about that deal,” he says, his voice a little more serious now. “Sounds like it could be good… for all of us.” You nod, bouncing Mabel lightly in your arms. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” You say, brushing Mabel's hair. Rafe steps closer, wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling both you and Mabel into his chest as he presses a soft kiss to your head.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing look. “We’ll see.” You can tell, though, from the determined glint in his eyes that he already knows what he’s going to do.