#yes I have chubby toes

[cxerraaa]

french pedi has my heart

[riediaries]

the wailing sound of a baby fills up the room for the nth time tonight. the crying continues and becomes louder throughout the second.

you groan, waking up from your needed sleep. as much as you want to wake up satoru to take care of her, you can't. you are both equally tired and sleep-deprived because of your daughter.

you try to get up slowly to not wake up satoru but he already beat you into it. he gets up and pushes your body gently to the bed.

"sleep some more." he leans down to give your forehead a kiss and then gets up to be with his baby daughter.

"hi mochi." he smiles to her. that smile alone makes her feel really safe and comfortable as she's now calming down. she raises her two chubby hands, wanting her daddy to carry her.

"do you think it's too early for you to wake us up?" he jokes. satoru checks her diaper for poop just in case and after that, he carefully puts his gentle hands on her body to lift her up.

you can not take off your eyes on the scene unfolding in front of you. quietly observing the two white haired baby and the big baby.

satoru continues to rock her body as he hums in a melodic tone. the crying comes to stop and she hiccups.

"yes.. yes.. daddy's here.." he swaddles his baby around his arm in a gentle way, afraid to hurt her in any way.

you get up and your feet automatically makes its way to your little family. you hug your husband by the waist, putting your chin on his shoulder to see your daughter eyeing his father. blue eyes to blue eyes.

you were not glad by the genes of this man covering your daughter whole. from head to toe. she's the carbon copy of her dad but on the other side, you were happy that the only man you love is practically the twin of your daughter.

this thought makes another thought on your mind in which you giggle.

satoru breaks his eye contact with his baby and turns his head to you. "hm? what is it? and shouldn't you be sleeping?"

you continue to giggle and put your forehead on his shoulder, an attempt to muffle your giggles but satoru's plump lips makes out a smile.

"what is it? what's funny?" he asks again. he's curious why you're giggling a little too much.

you sigh and turns your head to meet his stunning blue eyes that was passed down on your daughter.

you look at your daughter first who's already eyeing you, too. great. two pairs of beautiful eyes watching you.

"there's this saying.." you start and your attention goes back to satoru.

he hums, signaling you to continue.

"this saying says that whoever was the carbon copy of the kid was the one who enjoyed a little too much during the making.." you burst out of laughing.

as you make your point, satoru chuckles at that saying, slightly agreeing. "oh?" he raises an eyebrow and grins.

"oh.. is that so?" he wiggles his eyebrows this time.

"mhm.." you hum. "so.. you enjoyed it a lot, huh, satoru?" you tease him.

he laughs quietly. "uh-huh, you caught me, babe." he leans to you, pecking your lips shortly. "i enjoyed it a lot and i will enjoy it more in the future." he whispers on your lips as teases you back.

it's now your turn to frown. "no way." you roll your eyes to dismiss his earlier thought.

he grins even more and turns his attention back to the baby who's been quiet. "but she needs siblings soon enough to have a playmate. isn't that right, baby?" babying the words in the last sentence.

"c'mon. you clearly enjoyed the making, too. even though just a little of your genes were taken out for our baby." he laughs and your daughter giggles, it's as if she's teaming up with him to tease you.

"oh my.. what a little rebellion we have right now." you chuckle at your daughter's early stages of being a mini satoru.

"you should team up with mommy when you grow up." you boop her nose which made her giggle more, making you and satoru smile at your child that has you and satoru's best qualities.

giggles and laughs filled the room at three am in the morning, too early for some playful interaction with your little family.

"no, right? baby girl should team up with daddy and that's why, mommy.." he turns to you again. "we should make another one for you to have a teammate soon enough." he laughs, louder this time.

"no–"

"but this time, i will make sure you'll enjoy more than me so that the second one will be your own very carbon copy." he grins and you slap his back.

what a rough future you'll be expecting.

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

New dad Astarion who is about to see his newborn child for the first time.

Of course, he expects his child to be the personification of serene beauty and divine grace. Them to have their father’s silken silvern locks, his immaculately chiselled features—the artwork perfected by Tav’s wonderful watercolour eyes…

And then he actually sees the child and—well—everybody assures him that, yes, Astarion, all babies look like that barely a half hour after birth…

He kind of has to take that at face value because he hasn’t seen an awful lot of newborns in his lifetime.

But it would’ve been nice if someone had told him that newborns happen to look like shrivelled potatoes, because he’s really, really trying to not let his bewilderment show. 

Astarion swallows. 

Tav’s beautiful eyes are watching him, waiting for a reaction—an enthusiastic one, no less. 

Maybe Tav will believe that he’s overcome with emotions at seeing his firstborn child? 

“Oh my, darling, I’m…speechless,” is all he can choke out, though, being rather proud that it’s at least not a lie. 

To his luck, Tav only nods dreamily, her full attention back on the odd little bundle in her arms.

“Isn’t she perfect?”

Yes, perfectly hideous. 

Astarion only hums in a way of reply.

That—his daughter, he supposes—is with no doubt one of the ugliest things he’s ever seen, but he has a feeling that his honesty wouldn’t be appreciated after Tav laboured for hours to give birth to this…potato-baby.

“Come, hold her, Astarion,” Tav says, then, bidding him to sit next to her on the bed.

The mattress shifts under Astarion’s weight and he obediently holds his arms out so that Tav can gently place the sleeping child against his chest.

Now that Astarion can take a better look, he can confirm that his daughter’s hair is of an indefinable colour and that her features are neither his nor Tav’s, plain as can be. Surely it won’t stay like that?

He and Tav are so ridiculously beautiful, their child can only be drop-dead gorgeous, right?

Astarion’s stomach drops indeed when, suddenly, something occurs to him. 

Oh dear, what if it’s his fault? He has no recollection of his family whatsoever; it’s very much possible that he and his immaculate looks are the exception in his lineage, and that he’s passed on only those mysterious less-than-perfect genes…Tav, as per usual, can’t be the issue!

Astarion is still catastrophizing when the bundle in his arms begins to stir.

All of a sudden, gold-speckled pale green eyes are looking up at him as if to ask what the fuck this weirdo’s problem might be. 

“Oh,” the weirdo in question exclaims at once. “Darling, look, she has your eyes!”

Tav, hugging him from behind, rests her chin on his shoulder, so she can watch as Astarion’s finger tenderly strokes their baby’s chubby cheek.

Their daughter also has, as it turns out, ten fingers and toes, a cute little nose and a hungry mouth—everything that’s supposed to be there is there, and it seems to be working fine, too—which is a huge relief. 

And aren’t those the tiniest pointy ears Astarion has ever seen? Let alone the unexpectedly strong fingers grasping at his!

Astarion, worries forgotten in a heartbeat, can’t help but smile at the baby in his arms. 

She is perfect, after all. 

Tav, face hidden in the crook of his neck, begins to tremble against his back. 

For a second, Astarion thinks she’s crying but then her laughter fills the chamber. It takes her a good moment to articulate whatever it is she finds so very funny.

“She'll grow out of it, you know?” Tav giggles in between her fits of laughter. 

Astarion stiffens. “Of what?”

“The turnip look. That’s what you’ve been worrying about the whole time, haven't you?”

“I was leaning more towards potatoes—but yes, I might’ve been a little worried about that,” Astarion admits sheepishly, although a grin is already tugging at his lips.  

Regaining her composure, Tav reaches over Astarion’s shoulder, her hand joining his as they get to know their child.

“Give it a couple of days and she will look like your proper little elf—beautiful just like her father.”

A content sigh leaves Astarion’s lips, right before he presses them against Tav’s temple.

“That’s the second best news I’ve heard today, my heart, truly.”

[baby-yongbok]

I Dare You

Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

➺ Genre: Smut, 1% plot 99% disgusting

➺Summary: Eat a sex chocolate before the party he said. It'll be fun he said.

➺ Word Count: 3.8k

➺🩶A/N: This is like a beginner piss kink fic lol it's filthy but if piss fics aren't usually your thing then this one is calm enough for you to dip your toe in the water. It's just subtle enough for those who like calm scenes (At least it is in my opinion. I could've made this WAY more intense 😭) + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ I hope that you enjoy!

➺ Warnings: Piss , Squirting, Fingering, Oral (M receiving), Use of an Aphrodisiac, Car sex (Please be safe, don't nut and drive), Appearance by + mentions of Changbin [I think that's all] - Again, this is a piss kink fic. It's subtle but there is piss.

➺Request: Yes - No

✧Masterlist✧

It was a dare, a stupid dare that you’re currently regretting as you down your fourth glass of champagne. The burn of your heels pressing into the balls of your feet could hardly compare to the ache you felt between your legs. You stood at the bar, lips pulled into a thin line as the sound of some slowed R&B song swirled through the air. You wanted to dance and have a good time with the rest of your friends but you just couldn’t, not like this. As you took in the moving bodies in the middle of the room your eyes landed on his, your friend. The one who started all of this.

To be fair you should’ve known better than to listen to Hyunjin, he’s always up to something. You knew when he handed you that damned chocolate that it was a bad idea. “It’ll be fun, come on, I dare you. It’ll only make you a little horny.” 

You knew better, you knew that taking a damn aphrodisiac before a party was a messy move. Especially since you’re here with Hyunjin. Your friends are always teasing the two of you, asking why you’re so close or why he’s always over at your place and spending the night. They blame all of Hyunjin’s unexplained hickies on you. It’s to the point where everyone that knows the two of you thinks that you’re fucking. And they’re right, you are. 

“Is he allowed to do that?” Changbin sneaking up next to you pulls your attention away from Hyunjin, basically dry humping some girl on the dance floor. The smirk on his face said it all, he’s trying to get you worked up. Contrary to what everyone else might think you're not the jealous type, neither of you are. You’re more than happy to share.

“You mean is my friend allowed to dance with girls?” You steal a glance back towards Hyunjin, he’s so close to her. Is he going to kiss her? Will you be able to contain yourself if he does? You press your thighs together at the thought of it. “Of course he is.”

“When will you two admit that you’re dating?” The smirk on Changbin’s face as he stares down at you, drink in his hand and that damned black shirt stretched over his chest and biceps just right makes you feel something that you never have towards him. Of course he’s hot, you always thought that but right now the thought of having him bend you over this bar and fuck you dumb in the middle of this party is all that is looping through your head. 

“If we were dating.” You turn to him, stepping so close that your chest is practically pressed against his. “This would be a problem.” The glass in your hand is quickly forgotten on the bar as you ghost your fingers up Changbin’s arm and rub over his strong shoulder. “But it’s not, look.”

He breaks your gaze for a second, glancing over to Hyunjin who’s way too busy swapping spit with the pretty black haired girl to notice you trying to seduce his friend. 

“So you’re not dating him?” His glassy eyes search yours, you’re both clearly tipsy. 

“Nope.” The feeling of Changbin’s hand on your waist makes you moan involuntarily. You need something, anything, to take the edge off. Every little touch makes you feel like you could come undone. He leans in and ghosts his lips against your neck. You gasp and your lips part, your eyes rolling back in your head and your body arching into him. How can something this small make you feel so hot?

“How drunk are you? You’re so sensitive.” The breath of his whisper sends chills down your spine. 

“I’m not drunk.” Changbin pulls back enough to meet your gaze.

“What are you then? I touched you and you moaned.”  You blush and look away. Your bold attitude has abandoned you tonight. 

 "I'm just really turned on." He smirks and pulls back completely, leaving you wanting more. His gaze shifts over to Hyunjin quickly before meeting your pleading eyes again.

“You want help taking care of that?”  His dark eyes twinkle in the ambient party lighting and you can’t help but to feel needy for him or anyone else at this point. It’s a surprise that your arousal isn’t dripping down your legs. A nod and a not so subtle lip bite is all that you offer him before he cups your face and pulls you closer. You close your eyes as he leans in.

“I need to hear you say yes.” The brush of his lips against yours as he whispers against your lips pulls another whimper from you. 

“Yes, please help me, Binnie. Please.” His lips are pressing to yours in an instant. Hungry and sweet just how you needed him to be. You melt into his touch, sighing into the kiss and pressing your thighs together with all of the force that you have in you. His lips are so soft, how would they feel sucking on your - wait, who’s pressing into your back? A large hand glides up your thigh and over the curve of your hip, squeezing the fabric of your tight skirt as it rides up a bit. You could recognize his touch any day, it never fails to light your whole body on fire. 

“So horny you had to beg my friend to fuck you?” How long has Hyunjin been there? How much did he hear? Do you even care? You push back into him, grinding against his hard bulge. “Do I need to take you home?”

A whine escapes you as Changbin pulls away from you, a smile on his plump glossy lips as he looks between you two. “So you are dating.” You grab Changbin’s wrist as he tries to move his hand from your waist. You want more, you need it so badly. So desperately. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Hyunjin shakes his head, wrapping his other arm around your waist and splaying his fingers over your stomach. “But she is mine.”

“I knew it.” Changbin picks up his drink from the bar, shaking his head at the two of you. 

“It looks like you’re taken care of.” He nods towards Hyunjin who smiles at him and mutters a quick good-bye to his friend. He doesn’t care if Changbin kissed you because he’s the one who will be balls deep in your cunt soon. You frown watching Changbin walk away but the feeling of Hyunjin’s lips on your neck makes the world around you fade away. He hasn’t even done anything to you and you can already feel the fucked out fog setting in.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

You usually didn’t mind going to parties that were a bit further from your apartment but right now you hated it. Every second that passed with Hyunjin’s hand rubbing at your thigh made you want to explode. He wasn’t doing any better, he kept shifting in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He’s just as desperate and needy as you, he just seems to be handling it better.

“How was it?” His voice snapped you out of your dirty daydream. How long have you been staring out of the window?

“What?”

“Kissing Changbin.” His eyes stay on the road and his voice is calm despite the uncomfortable strain of his cock against his jeans.

“It was good, really good.” All he offers is a smirk as he shifts again. Did he think it was hot? Did he enjoy seeing you kiss his friend? “How about that girl? How was she?”

“Eh, she really likes using tongue. I only like doing that with you.” 

Before you can stop yourself your mind is wandering to the moment right before the party when you and Hyunjin both started feeling the effects of the chocolate. His hands were in your hair and yours were up his shirt as your tongues explored each other's mouths in the front seat of the car. You were on top of him, straddling his growing erection and grinding your dripping core against the rough denim of his jeans. You both almost decided to leave the party, you were seconds away from turning right around and going home so he can fuck you senseless but when you asked him he gave you that devious smile. “What? Are you scared you’ll be too horny for the party? I dared you remember? You can do it, come on.” 

“Hyunjin.” You spread your legs a bit in your seat. The cool air hitting the wet spot on your panties sent a shiver through you. You feel so antsy and needy, desire is crawling wildly under your skin and you can’t take another second of it. You need him. “Jinnie, will you please touch me?” 

He stole a quick glance your way. Hissing through clenched teeth when he noticed the wet spot on your gray panties. “Baby, I’m driving.” His hand stayed on your thigh, it squeezed the soft flesh much harsher than he meant to but you enjoyed every second of it. You hiked your skirt up your thighs until it slipped over the curve of your ass, resting around your waist and leaving your wet cotton panties exposed. 

“Jinnie look ‘m so wet for you, please.” You’ve never felt as desperate as you do right now. Your nipples are pebbled underneath your shirt, your clit is swollen and the only thought in your head is having Hyunjin on you. You want him. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. Any and all of him. “I can’t wait, I need you, look what you did to me.”

You hook your finger into the gusset of your panties and lift it up and over just as Hyunjin glances over at your core. The sight before him could’ve made him swerve off of the road if he didn’t have any self control. You’re soaked, strings of sticky arousal are connecting your panties to your pussy and all he wants to do is lick up every drop of that sweet slick from your folds. 

“Fuck.” His hand moves from your thigh to rub over his aching erection. “I did that to you, angel? You’re soaked for me? Want my cock to fuck you dumb?” He bites his lip, a moan falling from his parted lips as he nearly misses his turn.

“Move your panties a bit more, let me feel you.” If there were an award for keeping your cool while driving as horny as a pornstar, Hyunjin would definitely win it. His driving is smooth, he’s barely missing a single sign, and his eyes are trained on the road while his pointer and middle finger circle soft figure eights over your erect clit. “Want my fingers in this pussy?”

He trails down and teases your entrance, just barely giving you the tip of his finger. Your head falls back against the seat and Hyunjin thanks his lucky stars that he’s approaching a traffic light. When he stops and looks over at you, he thinks that you couldn’t be more beautiful. Your eyebrows are pinched together and your pretty eyes are glistening with tears that threaten to fall from your puffy lids. Your lipstick is smudged ever so slightly while your bottom lip is caught firm between your teeth. Your arms are hooked under your knees to give him better access to your sopping cunt. A true masterpiece.

“Beg me to fill you with my fingers, baby. You have until the light changes.” 

“Please let me feel your fingers, Hyunjin. I’ll be so good for you, I’ve been so good. I’ll suck your cock when we get home, I promise. Please, please, please Jinnie. I n-need you, I need you to fuck my pussy open. I need to be stretched for you. This pussy is yours and I need you to fuck it. I w-want it. I-I’ll be so good for you I’ll -” A smile spreads wide across his face as he listens to you babble and beg so mindlessly. You trip over almost every word as your pussy clenches around nothing. He couldn’t help but to chuckle, not the cute kind that brings you comfort. No, this was the dark one, the one that means that he’s going to ruin you once he gets the chance.

“Light changed.” His fingers breach your entrance at the same time that his foot lets up on the brake. “Such a good little pornstar. Begging for my fingers in the car.”

“F-fuck, fuck fuckfuck oh my - my fuck.” Nothing makes sense in your head, you’re not even sure what you’re saying. Are you breathing? Once his long fingers curled into your g-spot the mist in your brain turned into a blinding dark fog. It feels so good, he feels so good. His fingers fuck into you at just the right pace, you can feel your arousal running down your inner thigh as he brings you closer to the edge. Your brows pinch together as another feeling sneaks up on you. An aching pressure that you were barely aware of before but can not seem to ignore now. “Hyun-Hyunjin wait I- gotta, gotta pee.” 

You meant to use the bathroom before the two of you left but Hyunjin rushed you out of the party so quickly that you forgot. “Go ahead, make a mess for me.”

The two of you were no stranger to water sports but you’ve never done such a thing in his car. “Are you-” You cut yourself off with a moan and Hyunjin nods, already knowing what you’re going to ask, he’s more than sure. 

“Make a mess for me, angel. I want your piss on my leather seats. Can you do that for me? Squirt and piss all over my car.” What left your lips was barely a moan, it was more like a desperate cry as he abused your sweet spot. “Come on, baby. Show me how good it feels.” 

You’re way too concentrated on the pleasure burning through you to notice that the car just stopped. Hyunjin found a relatively dark and empty lot to stop in so he could enjoy the show. If there’s one thing that he loves it’s when you two get messy. He’s the happiest when you're squirting all over his cock or pissing while you ride his thigh or his face. 

He keeps a steady pace while his thumb flicks over your swollen clit, milking everything you have to offer from you. His free hand rubbed over his clothed cock as he watched you with dark low lidded eyes. He wants nothing more than to fuck his fist to the sight of you but he choses to build himself up instead. He wants to bust inside of you, filling you to the brim with his sticky seed. 

“C-cumming I’m - I’m cumming i’m cumming.” He curls his fingers into you, milking your fluttering walls as a rush of arousal squirts from your swollen cunt. He pulls his fingers out, rubbing his four fingers over your cunt and making a mess of your fluids. 

“Piss all over me, baby. That’s it.” The pressure in your bladder lets up as you let go. A mixture of squirt and piss coated the windshield and radio in front of you as Hyunjin rubbed at your pussy. “Gimme another one.” 

His fingers are plugging your hole again before you can protest. “Jin- Jinnie so good ‘s so g-good.” If you were watching yourself from the outside looking in you wouldn’t be able to recognize the babbling mess in the passenger seat as yourself. You’ve been needy before but you’ve never been this fucked out and foggy. What the hell was in that chocolate? “Cum, cum, gonna- fuck.”

You’re squirting all over his hand again, your moans and cries fill the car and Hyunjin is absolutely positive that you’d have a full audience if there were anyone nearby with the way that you’re screaming for him. “That’s my fucking pornstar right there, look at this fucking mess baby. You’re soaked in your own cum and piss. So nasty for me.” He watches in delight as you tremble and moan, your body shaking as you come down from your high.

“More, more please please please. Let me have your cock. I wan’ suck it, let me please.” He smirks as you beg for him, your body trembling against the damp leather of the seat and your mouth wide open in pleasure. 

“If you touch me I’ll fucking bust.” You unbuckle your seatbelt hastily. Climbing up to your knees with the grace of a baby deer against the soaked seat. “You just can’t wait huh? Need to taste my cum?”

You nod, fucked out and frantic as you lean over the middle console and fumble with his belt buckle. He leans back, one hand tracing your spine lightly while the other rests behind his head. He loves watching you be dumb and needy for him, he doesn't get to see it often so he came up with the dare to get what he wanted. He knew what the chocolate would do to you, he’s taken it before and he knows how bad it can get. When he showed it to you and you said that you’d try it someday he got excited. He was curious if it could get him his desired outcome. He wanted to know if it’ll make you his brainless slut, looks like it worked. 

“Come on, angel gotta get my cock in your mouth.” You whine at his teasing, licking your lips and fumbling with frustration until you finally free his rock hard dick from his jeans, no boxers underneath for easy access of course. You hum at the sight of it, immediately licking up the pre-cum leaking from the angry tip. “Shit.”

The hand that was once behind his head grabs a handful of your hair and he tries his best to contain himself. He didn’t want to let his guard down yet, he’s been waiting until you get home but your pretty warm mouth wrapped around his cock just might make him as needy as you are. “Baby, baby, baby you’re gonna make me nut. I’m gonna cum down that pretty tight throat, fuck.”

You take all of him, allowing his tip to abuse the back of your throat as you moan around him. “Oh, I want to be that deep in your fucking cunt. You gonna let me? Gonna let me ruin that pussy when we get to your place?” He’s practically fucking your throat now as his hips thrust up involuntarily. He can’t help but chase the pleasure. You feel so good and he’s five times more sensitive than he usually is. 

“Swallow around that cock, swallow my dick. Yes, fuck yes just like that, that’s my girl.” The moment that your throat contracts around him he can feel himself tipping over the edge. With his head thrown back, a death grip in your hair and his eyes shut tight he slurs dirty promises into the air while shooting ropes of cum down your throat.

“Swallow it, take all my fucking cum. Oh shit, baby swallow every drop of my fucking seed. You’re such a slut letting me - fuck - letting me make a mess in this tiny throat. Fucking hell I’m so addicted to you.” You swirl your tongue around his shaft and tip as you lift up off of him. A single string of spit connects you to his cock but it’s swiftly broken when Hyunjin grabs your chin and pulls you in for a kiss. Your tongues explore each other's mouths as you swallow each other’s moans. 

 Your hand wraps around Hyunjin’s cock, still hard as a rock, milking a deep moan from him as he pulls away from your swollen lips, you watch Hyunjin's eyes roll back in pleasure. He runs his hands through your hair, as he pants and stares into your eyes. He’s just as cloudy and fucked out as you are now. All that’s going through his head is you. He needs to feel you, to fuck you dumb until you fall apart on his cock and soak the mattress with your cum.

“S-stop, baby.” His words barely make it past his clenched teeth but even if they did you wouldn’t have listened. “Stop.” This time the hiss in his voice catches your attention. He grabs your wrist, ripping you away from his cock.

“I need to get you home.” His dark eyes bore into yours. The intense lustful energy swirling around the two of you and fogging the windows makes you feel dizzy as you  listen to him. “Sit.”

You obey immediately, sitting back in your wet seat and shivering at the cool damp feeling. Hyunjin fixes himself but he doesn’t allow you to do the same. “You were just pumping my cock like a desperate slut, so sit there like a messy whore for me, okay? Keep that pretty pussy on display.”

A cock drunk smile pulls at your lips as you fasten your seat belt and settle into your seat. It doesn’t take long for Hyunjin to pull off, driving at the exact speed limit in hopes that he can get home quick and safe. You’re not too far from your apartment, it hasn’t been more than ten minutes since your last orgasm but it feels like it’s been forever since you’ve felt his hands on you. He’s noticed you shifting in your seat and rubbing your hands up and down your thighs, desperate for any type of attention. A smile adorns his flushed features as he gets closer to your place. 

“Angel, I know what can keep you busy.” His eyes stay on the road but yours immediately fly over to him, scanning his features as you listen closely. 

“Touch yourself and tell me everything that you wanted Changbin to do to you. Tell me all the dirty thoughts you had when he had his hands on my girl.” You push your thighs together, squirming in your seat. You had completely forgotten about your kiss with Changbin and how desperate you were to feel his hands on you and have him inside of you. 

“Hyunjin I don’t know if I can handle that, I just want you, baby.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly. 

“I won’t touch you anymore unless you do it.” You whine, throwing a tantrum against your seat. Hyunjin’s hand grabs your thigh, squeezing the flesh harshly and warning you to stop. With a smile on his face he glances over at you. You’re only four blocks away from your apartment.

“Come on, baby. I dare you.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Gone V

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Morsa has to go

Things have been a little weird in the house.

Momma and Morsa...They're not quite arguing but they've been having a lot of what Frido says are 'heated discussions'. You don't quite understand what that means but you know it's the reason why they're a bit huffy and puffy with each other.

They're still happy with you though and that's all that matters.

They have their silly little heated discussions but still give you big smiles and big kisses and big cuddles together at bedtime.

You glance behind you, at where they're snuggled up on the sofa together and nod.

Good.

They're being nice to each other again and you turn to look back at your show with a little smirk.

Pernille smiles at you as you turn back around, watching as you wiggle your little toes happily while watching your cartoon.

She knows you've noticed the underlying tension between her and Magda. She knows you've picked up on it, a little bit confused by all the hushed conversations and cold shoulders between your mothers.

Pernille's future has been a load of question marks for a while. Chelsea's been knocking on her door, banging on it really. They were practically frothing at the mouth to sign her but she's been pushing them back for a while now.

Not for herself.

She knows that Chelsea would be good for her. Time in the English league would develop her skills further and Chelsea have been on the up and up for a while now.

But you're the only thing keeping Pernille from signing on the dotted line.

Your life is in Germany and at Wolfsburg where you insist on wearing the shirt to every practice and speak German like you were born to do it.

Pernille isn't sure how you would cope with such a big move so suddenly and so early on in your life.

You're happy in Germany with her and this little apartment where you know the exact route to training and your favourite park is two minutes down the road.

Germany is all you know.

Magda's on the side of coming to Chelsea, of uprooting your whole life to move to England where the three of you can finally all live together.

Pernille wants that too but not at the expense of your happiness.

The conversation has been tabled though, at least for today because it's Magda's last before she gets back on a flight to leave again this evening.

You're content on the floor in front of them until Magda gets up off the sofa to grab her suitcase. You watch closely as she unzips it and goes to retrieve some of her clothes from the laundry.

You frown, toddling over to sit yourself in the bag.

You give Pernille a triumphant look as you wiggle around to get comfortable, throwing out some of Magda's t-shirts and trousers.

"What are you doing?" Pernille laughs, getting up to refold the clothes so they can all fit again.

"Morsa not goin'," You answer," Big bag for when she goes. Can't use big bag if I'm in it."

Pernille chuckles, lifting you up easily and setting you down further away. "You know Morsa needs to go," She says," She plays in London."

You stick your tongue out. "Nu-uh!"

Pernille sticks her tongue out right back at you. "Uh-huh! You know she does."

"Morsa not goin' now," You insist," Won't let her!"

"She doesn't need your permission, Princesse. She's got to leave to play with her team."

At that, you burst into tears - full, chest rattling, heartbreaking sobs as fat tears roll down your chubby cheeks and splash onto the floor.

"No!" You whine," No Morsa go!"

"Yes Morsa go," Pernille says to you," You know she has to leave. She does it every time."

You shake your head furiously and kick your legs in outrage. "No! No let Morsa leave!"

"Hey, hey," Magda says when she comes pick into the room," What's with all the tears, huh? Why are we crying?"

"No leave!" You screech at her, sobbing even harder now that you realise she's packing her clean laundry into the suitcase. "I not let you!"

"I have to leave, princesse," Magda tells you," You know that. How am I going to make enough money to give you all the nice toys you want if I don't go back to my job?"

"No job!" You insist," Momma has job! Stay here!"

You cling to her leg, wrapped up tightly around her in a way that makes you difficult to extract. You sob and you sob and you sob even as Magda pulls you into her arms and rocks you.

"I'm sorry," She says," I'm so sorry. I really want to stay but I can't. Soon though. Me and your Momma are going to work something out. Maybe I'll come here, huh?"

It's in that moment that Pernille knows she's going to call the Chelsea representatives back. She's been putting it off for days now, wanting to discuss it all with Magda first but she knows now that she'll have to talk to them about a contract.

She can't let Magda give up Chelsea, not when she's captain, not when she's put her blood, sweat and tears into the team to make it great, not when Magda leaving Chelsea would be a big hit to her career, at least right now.

Pernille doesn't have much tying her to Wolfsburg and Germany apart from you and you're making it very clear now that your little heart is breaking over the fact that Magda is leaving again.

You want her to stay or, rather, you want to be with Magda and Pernille does too.

She wants shared breakfast and dinners, shared bathtime and shared bedtime and nights where you sleep between them in bed and days going out to the markets together and matches where you get to walk out as Magda's mascot too.

Magda has to leave now, despite your obvious heartbreak, but Pernille's certain that this separation won't be for too long.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

But Put Together, the Cracks We’ll Close In

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Early Alexandria

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; mentions of past child abuse; mentions of suggested abortion; blood and injury

Summary: Fresh into Alexandria, Daryl meets his match in a two year little girl and slowly loses his heart to her mother. You.

A/N: Based on the request/headcanon from @louifaith Just a couple of things. The child is described as in hair and eye color. Nothing is mentioned of reader so these traits could come from her father. There is also the mention of an “Eskimo kiss.” I grew up hearing and using that term but I’m not sure if it is offensive or PC nowadays. please feel free to send me a message if I need to change it. It is not my intention to be offensive to anyone! Also, sorry if anyone likes Spencer. He's always my go to asshole. I received my answer on the above questioned term. I will definitely not be using it again! It has been edited out. *gif is not mine

“S’that?”

Daryl felt the opossum sway in his grip, looking down with a scowl firmly plastered at the bright eyes returning his gaze, brimming with curiosity. She was a toddler, maybe two years old? Christ, someone had a toddler in this mess. “Dinner.” He grunted, pulling the dead animal out of her reach. He found out quickly that the curious little creature would not be deterred so easily. Standing on her tip-toes, she made a grab for the marsupial. “Knock it off.” He huffed and took a step back, bumping into Carol.

“Daryl, she’s a child. Don’t be such a grump.”

“Ain’t you got a mama—family to get back to?” He snapped, ignoring his best friend. The little girl’s eyes brightened.

“Mama! Mama!” She clapped. Daryl rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm.

“Yeah, go get ‘er.” There was an intense sigh of relief when the little human went running (waddling?) out of sight. “They got kids here.” 

“Yes, Daryl. That’s what that was.” Carol nudged him playfully. “The people seem to think they’re safe here. It gives me the creeps.” He nodded but didn’t comment. “They obviously don’t know what’s going on out there, not like we do. I think we need to be cautious here. Find a way to fit in but keep our guard up, you know?”

Daryl snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that. Ain’t got no intention of tryin’ to fit in with these folks. Livin’ in a fuckin’ fairytale here. Ain’t gonna last.”

“You’re such a ray of sunshine.” Sasha clapped him on the shoulder as she passed, earning yet another grunt. 

“Mama, here!”

Oh dear god, no. “S’back.” The hunter stated flatly.

“Oh, and she brought a friend.” Sure enough, the little girl was dragging you along, tugging incessantly at your hand as if the child had found the world’s most priceless treasure. “You did tell her to ‘go get her.’”

“Nadia, slow down!”

And slow down, she did. Right in front of a scowl-wearing redneck with a bleeding opossum in his grasp.

“Mama, dinner! Dorl dinner.”

Dorl?!? Daryl looked helplessly over to where Carl was carrying Judith, the little light of his life. Would this be what she was like as she grew up? She already knew him, loved him despite how broken and hopeless he was. She would laugh at him if he was ranting about something and hold out those chubby little hands and he was done for, whatever had irritated him was forgotten.

But this child? This wasn’t his lil’ asskicker. 

Daryl liked kids but he liked them from a distance. He had no business being around them, save for Carl and Judith. I wish I could have known Sophia. He wouldn’t bother getting to know anyone in this place. It’d burn like every other home they had anyway. 

“Dorl, huh?” You smiled.

“Daryl.” He replied flatly, his lip curling.

“I’m Y/N. I assume Aaron found your group?” 

He didn’t answer, too occupied with trying to continuously move away from the small child clumsily reaching for his knife sheath. “Stop that.” He barked, expecting the kid to balk. She did quite the opposite and wrapped her tiny arms around his leg, just below his knee. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Shake her off? Of course not. She might get hurt. While he really didn’t want to be touched, he couldn’t help but feel like it was somehow his job to make sure this kid wasn’t hurt. “Can ya—would ya—?” Shoulders slumped, he didn’t even gesture. You know what he was asking.

Chuckling, you reached down and gently pried the little girl loose. “Nadia, you’re supposed to ask before hugs, remember?”

“Hug Dorl.” The dark-headed child pouted.

That was his cue to step away, as quickly as possible, without running. He absolutely did not run. 

When you looked up, he was already gone, lost in the middle of his group as they headed in to surrender weapons and be interviewed by Deanna.

Daryl sat on the now red-stained porch, prepping his kill for cooking later. Carol had scolded him and made him promise to use the backyard going forward, but he doubted they would be there long enough for him to need the area. It was just the way the world was. Nice places like this could never last.

“Dorl dinner!” 

Jesus take the wheel. “Ya need a bell.” He grunted, looking around for you. “An’ apparently a leash.” Maybe if he ignored her, she would go find you. But what if she wandered off alone and somehow made it out of the gates? Shit. “Sit down, gremlin.”

She giggled and patted her chunky hands against her chest. “Nada.”

Daryl stopped moving and stared for a moment. Wasn’t that Spanish? Maybe? Wait. You had called her Nadia. Maybe that’s what she was trying to say. “Nadia?” Blue eyes squinted in wait.

Nadia bounced and nodded and then pointed at him. “Dorl! Dorl, Nada!”

He released his knife and leaned his elbow against his knee, the heel of his hand pressing into his forehead. “Dare-ul.” He tried.

“Dooorl.”

“Oh, for fucksake.” The archer gave up, picking up his knife and continuing with his task. Nadia didn’t even seem to notice what he was doing but leaned in closely with the most serious look he’d ever seen. He needed to lean back once she made it much too far into his personal space.

“Fucksy.” She said, maintaining eye contact as if she were challenging him. 

“No! Don’t say that. Can’t be teachin’ ya sh—stuff like that!” He panicked, opossum forgotten. Daryl threw back his head with a groan. “Can’tcha please just go to your mama?”

Nadia’s little face lit up and off she went with a chorus of mama mama mama. Watching her go, Daryl wondered where the little one’s father was, but soon banished the thought. It was none of his business. What was his business was to make sure the annoying curtain-climber made it home safely. Abandoning his dinner—no time to cover it if he was going to catch up—he walked briskly until he caught sight of her. Little legs can fuckin’ move. We’re fucked when Jude learns to walk. 

He stayed close, but far back enough to not catch her attention. She seemed to know exactly where she was going. Rounding the curb to the end of the street, he caught sight of the small house. Quaint compared to the other homes. The front door was open but he dared not go closer. Boots firmly planted on the sidewalk, he observed the struggle of a tiny human tackling front porch steps. Nadia was determined though. Had he chosen to help, he was certain she would give him that serious look again and yell at him in baby-speak.

“Nadia Avery, how do you keep getting out the door!” 

Maybe cause you leave it open? He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. 

Regardless, there you were, swooping down to gather the bundle into your arms with a couple of sobs and more than a few sniffles. “Baby, you have to stop doing that! You scare mommy.” Nadia was nuzzling your jaw but then suddenly pointed right at him. 

“Dorl got Nada.”

When your eyes found his own, Daryl froze. His arms were out to his sides, his eyes wide. He looked nothing short of a deer caught in the sights of his crossbow when it realized it’s about to be shot. “I—uh, kid found me.” Forcing himself to relax a fraction, he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Didn’t want ‘er wand’rin’ ‘round by herself.” 

Your face softened into a grateful smile. “Thank you for making sure she got home.” He nodded curtly and you turned away, only to turn back in the same motion. “Would you like to come inside? I have some stew that I’m heating. Plenty for the three of us.”

A part of him that he didn’t know existed wanted to immediately accept the offer but the part of him that had kept him alive this long spoke louder. “Nah, got my own dinner I need to take care’a. Thanks, though.”

You nodded, the smile never faltering. “Think of it as a standing invitation. Nadia seems to like you. She’s a good judge of character.”

He snorted. “Alright.”

“Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Night.” He took two steps.

“Nigh’ nigh’, Dorl!” 

He heard the sound of a kiss being blown his way, but didn’t turn around. Maybe if he ignored her, she’d go away.

It had been three days since he had last seen you or Nadia. He found that it unsettled him but not enough to go looking. Aaron had gifted him a work area and parts to build himself a bike. It was the best thing anyone could have offered him at that point. He felt like he still wasn’t fitting in, and while that was the idea at first, now it just felt…lonely. 

Carol was always gone when he got up and not home yet when we retired to bed. Rick and Michonne couldn’t stay out of the bedroom for more than five minutes unless something ‘coppy’ needed to be handled. Carl was always outside with Jude in the nice weather. 

Daryl was alone. Though he usually preferred it that way, he couldn’t seem to shake the negativity it seemed to bring to the surface. 

Spending time around something familiar from the old world came to be a comfort. When the posh little community with its “good morning” while walking the dog and laughter over coffee at the gazebo became too much for Daryl, he disappeared into Aaron’s garage. Aaron and his husband seemed okay in the archer’s book. They never once stared at him like he was going to rob them blind or beat them to a pulp. They showed him kindness even if his only attempts at conversation consisted of nods and grunts. 

“You going to this party tonight?” Aaron asked from the doorway the led into the house from the garage. 

“Nah.” Daryl picked up a wrench and continued his work, not giving the question a proper thought. 

“You really should make an effort to get to know more people here.” 

“They don’t like me. Shouldn’t, really.” The archer shrugged. 

“They just don’t know you. Maybe you should give them a chance.” Aaron kept his persuasion in the doorway. He had gifted Daryl that space and was unwilling to step into it without an invitation he was unlikely to receive without asking. 

“Better they don’t know me.”

There was a sigh that made Daryl curl his lip. “Just think about it, okay?” The shuffle of feet and the door opening signaled the other man’s exit. 

Why should Daryl go? He had little interest in fitting in, even when his own group was making such an effort. Carol and Rick were wary and had whatever it was they had but Carol would tell him if she felt it necessary. Daryl was just plain wary, utterly uninterested. Most of them would likely be dead soon and he didn’t need anyone else to mourn. 

So why he found himself showered and in a fresh set of clothing that was his own form of presentable was absolutely beyond him. It had nothing to do with the fact that on his walk home, he thought maybe you’d be at the party. Nope, nothing like that. 

He had made it at least to the yard outside, watching the festivities through the window. Everyone he knew seemed so at ease in there. Dressed up, laughing and drinking. Mingling like they belonged there. He didn’t belong there. 

“Nah.” He said softly before turning away. He was passing by Aaron’s house when a call of his name from that familiar voice had him stopping with a sigh. “Yeah?”

“You went. Good for you. Did you have a good time?” Aaron asked from the porch. Daryl shrugged. The man’s eyes narrowed and suddenly the archer was nervous, feeling judged. “You didn’t go in, did you?”

Daryl shook his head. “Just ain’t my thing.”

“Hey, you tried.”

“Why didn’t you go?” That wasn’t supposed to sound so accusatory but Daryl was tired and had simply had his fill of the day and that place. 

“Eric’s ankle is still giving him trouble. We just thought it best to skip out on this one.”

This one? Christ. That insinuated there would be more. With an inward groan, he answered outwardly with a grunt. 

“We’ve got dinner ready. More than can feed us. Can we tempt you?” The offer was sincere and Daryl was hungry, but his battery was running on fumes. He glanced toward his own home and then back at Aaron. “Eric makes a mean spaghetti, man. Come on, you’re already out.”

Daryl sighed. “Fine.” He was grateful for the invitation, he just sucked at showing it, as with almost every other emotion. Aaron held open the door and with a nod, the archer entered, still ill at ease being inside someone else’s home when his own still felt less than comfortable. 

“Dorl.”

Before he could prepare himself, Nadia was latching onto his lower legs. Arms out awkwardly, he glared at Aaron. “Didn’t say she was here.”

The man just shrugged a shoulder. “Didn’t say she wasn’t either.”

“Hi, Daryl!” You came around the corner from the dining room, no doubt to gather your spawn but he couldn’t seem to form a thought around the smile you were giving him. 

“Mama! Dorl!”

“I can see that, baby. You think you can let go so that he can walk?” Nadia shook her head with a vicious pout. 

“Dorl up?”

“What?” He looked down at the toddler and back up at you, silently hoping you’d act as translator for the little gremlin. 

“She wants you to pick her up. You don’t—”

For reasons unbeknownst to even him, he bent down and placed his hands beneath Nadia’s arms, lifting her onto his hip. It felt no different than holding Judith. Nadia was heavier of course. 

“Dorl!” Chubby arms wrapped around his neck, her little cheek rubbing against his stubbled one. “Tickle.” She giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world and repeated the action. 

You were still smiling but much more softly. “She really likes you.” Daryl grunted. “You don’t say much, do you?”

“Ain’t gotta lot to say.” He shrugged the shoulder Nadia’s chin was resting on, sending her into another fit of giggles. She pulled back suddenly, very in his space and then pressed her face against his cheek. He flinched but otherwise didn’t move. There was the smallest flutter that tickled his skin before she reared back again, smiling proudly. “What—”

“Butterfly kisses.” You informed, arms crossed but your smile hidden behind your hand. 

“What the fu—heck’s that?” 

“Oh come on, you never gave your mom butterfly kisses?” You chuckled. 

Daryl felt nauseous at the mention of his mother. The only thing he’d shared with her were bruises and a few after-beating hugs. But you didn’t know him. He took the anger and locked it down, but it must have spilled into his expression. 

“I’m sorry.” Your smile was gone, but to his surprise (and relief), there was no pity in your eyes. Only understanding. Still, it wasn’t a subject he cared to let linger. 

He turned his attention to the child, who had developed a sudden interest in the hair over his ears. “Ya ever gave a nose kiss?” He almost laughed out loud when Nadia’s eyes flew wide with wonder. She didn’t confirm or deny but the fact that she hadn’t moved was answer enough. “S’simple.” Daryl brought a hand up to the back of her head and gently urged her forward, rubbing the tip of his nose over hers. “There. Nose kiss.”

She kept those wide eyes as her little mouth began to spread open into one of the biggest smiles he’d ever seen on a kid, granted he hadn’t spent much time around any. 

“Again!” She squealed, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him forward. He expected to have a bloody nose from the force with which she came at him, but her movements became deliberate and gentle, as if getting it right was the most important thing in the world. 

Nadia was incredibly pleased with herself, her little hands patting against Daryl’s chest before she wiggled out her request for freedom and sprinted toward the dining room with this newfound information to share with Eric and Aaron. 

“Careful.” You said, though there was no hint of anything unkind in your tone. When he looked away from the other room, he found your expression to be one he couldn’t seem to identify. It was soft yet guarded. He didn’t move away when you reached a single hand out to adjust his vest. “You’re smiling.” And you walked away, leaving him there to realize that he was indeed wearing a small, lopsided grin. 

He shook it off with a groan, absolutely regretting his decision to come in for dinner. 

“Dorl!” Came the loud shout from the table. “Dorl, sketti!”

This was not going to end well. 

It had been two weeks since the spaghetti dinner, which in fact had ended rather pleasantly. Aside from your giggles when he realized he was eating his meal with the same gusto and manners as the toddler next to him, Aaron had offered him a job that let him go outside the walls. He’d accepted almost immediately. 

Little Nadia had been determined to take him home with them, so he walked you there with her tiny hand in his. Halfway, she had begun to tire and fuss, instinct had kicked in and he scooped her up in the same manner he would Judith. The child was asleep on his shoulder almost instantly. 

He had zero intention of entering your home and was thankful the kid was out cold so that she couldn’t initiate the suggestion. He had passed her off to you and started to leave. 

“Daryl.” You had called quietly. He still wasn’t sure why he had turned back to you so quickly. “That invitation is still open.” You smiled, he grunted. “Thanks for being so sweet with her. Goodnight.”

There had been a heavy feeling in his chest but he had nodded. “G’night.”

Now, you and little Nadia were almost a constant presence when he wasn’t beyond the wall. A presence that he found no longer really irritated him. 

He would sit on the porch with the kid, working on his crossbow while Nadia colored or played with toys. He had to find her some of her own to have there because it seemed she and Judith were at odds about Daryl’s attention. He had made the mistake of lifting lil’ asskicker out of her playpen while Nadia was on his heels and the latter had begun to wail. 

He had quickly passed Jude off to an equally concerned Michonne and scooped up the kid. “S’wrong? Hey.” Little arms wrapped around his neck and, though he didn’t see the angry pout directed at the other baby, Michonne did. He turned at her chuckle, eyes wide and confused. 

Before she could explain, those little arms squeezed harder. “My Dorl.”

From that moment on, he saved time with Judith for emergencies (there were none) and for after Nadia had gone home with you. 

“Don’t touch that, Dia.” Daryl huffed, catching her little hand reaching for the knife he had on the porch table. He had spent the morning skinning a few squirrels for Carol to use in a stew but was at that point, working on the tension on his bow. 

And babysitting. 

You had some inventory to do at the infirmary with Pete. The doctor gave him bad vibes so when you had asked, he’d accepted all too quickly. Even offered to tag along and keep an eye on the kid there. In the end, after you had politely declined, he had reasoned that you were a grown woman and could handle yourself. 

“Babysitting, again, hmm?” 

Daryl glanced up from his crossbow toward Carol on the top step, Nadia already beaming up at her from the hug around her waist. It lasted all of three seconds before the kid was back to her toys beside Daryl’s boot. 

“Mhm.” Was the only answer he offered, one that was mimicked from the little person below him. He didn’t smile but Carol didn’t miss the way his eyes left the weapon to regard Nadia for a moment before returning to the task.

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked, plopping down onto the other chair. She grabbed a toy that had rolled away and handed it back to the child.

“Some inventory shit at the infirmary.” Daryl shrugged, rotating the bow to check his work. Carol made a noise that gave him pause, one he didn’t like. “What?”

“No one’s at the infirmary. I was just there for Mr. Henderson’s blood pressure medication.” 

He could feel his heartrate picking up, a sense of foreboding so strong that he could barely think straight. “Pete weren’t there?”

Carol shook her head. “No one.” She sat up straight when Daryl stood, sheathing his knife and placing his crossbow on the railing. “Daryl?”

“Dia, I’m gonna be right back. You’re gonna stay with Carol for a few minutes. Tell me the rules.” 

Nadia’s wide eyes narrowed into seriousness. “No bow. No move. Be good. No shit.” It took her a moment to babble through the small list but Daryl ruffled her hair with the smallest of half smiles.

“No shit, Daryl?”

He was already stepping off the porch. “Her mama hears ‘er sayin’ that an’ m’a dead man.”

Carol laughed and shook her head, turning her attention to the little human that was already working up to a cry as Daryl walked out of sight. “Do you like cookies, Nadia?”

He checked the infirmary first. He didn’t doubt Carol, but maybe she had missed a room or something. It was, as Carol had said, empty. “Fuck.” The next most logical place would be your home. He ran the entire way. He’d feel like an absolute fool if you were fine, but he’d cross that bridge later. The door was open, he could see that from the moment he rounded the curb. You had a habit of doing that and he hated it, but who was he to tell you what to do?

“Y/N?” He took your steps two at a time and stopped on the threshold. “Y/N? Are ya here?” No answer. He felt like shit the moment his boot touched the floor inside. He’d never taken you up on an invitation for the dinner you continuously offered him, much less any offer to simply come inside. Now here he was tearing room to room, in your safe space. There were covered pots on the stove and the oven was on, but where were you? “Y/N!” He placed a booted foot on the bottom stair before your voice stunned him frozen.

“Daryl?”

He nearly collapsed in relief.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Nadia? Daryl?”

“She’s fine. She’s with Carol.” He rasped, sheathing his knife when he saw you staring at it. Your hair was wet, your clothes damp. You must have been in the shower. “M’sorry. Carol said ya weren’t at the—just got worried. M’sorry.” His eyes had lowered to the stairs below you but then your bare feet were padding down them to stop directly in front of him. “I’ll, uh—lemme go get ‘er.” He had barely moved before your hand was on his shoulder. To his shock, he didn’t flinch; didn’t even have the urge.

“Are you okay?” You asked, ducking your head to seek out his gaze. He continued to expertly dodge.

“M’fine. Just—I’ll go get Dia.” He stepped away and out of the loose grip you had on him, immediately missing the warmth of your hand. What the hell was wrong with him?

“I was making us dinner.” The words rushed out of you, like you were trying to get them out before he could leave. Daryl looked over his shoulder from the doorway, an eyebrow arched. “Us. Me, Nadia, and—well, you.”

“Me? Why?” He hadn’t meant to sound so unkind, ungrateful, but that was just who he was down deep, wasn’t it? Still, you seemed unbothered, your nervousness born of something else entirely.

“Because Nadia likes you. I like you. We’d like to spend time with you that doesn’t involve me asking for favors or the entire community leering and making assumptions.”

He still hadn’t fully turned, but narrowed his eyes. “Think they ain’t gonna make assumptions when ya have me in your house?”

“Fair point.” You nodded, chuckling. “Honestly, I don’t give a fuck what they think but I worry that you do.” Head tilted, Daryl turned but remained in the doorway. “You seem so private, quiet. I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” Your bottom lip disappeared between your teeth for a moment. “So, will you come? Please?”

As much as he tried, he couldn’t sense a single ounce of dishonesty or ill intent in you. It was certainly there, wasn’t it? No one outside of the group that had grown to like him over months of death and sorrow wanted anything to do with him. So, why you? Why Nadia? “Alright, I’ll go get ‘er an’ be back.” He turned and took a step before you called out again.

“Don’t worry about changing or anything. Just bring you, okay?”

He nodded around the very foreign flutter in his chest, clearing his throat and leaving the house before he could overthink things right there in front of you. He’d be able to do that in abundance on the way to grab the kid. 

To say he was confused was the largest of understatements. You were a beautiful woman. Where was Nadia’s father? In that world, the absence usually meant he was either dead or had willingly left, which he couldn’t fathom either. Was the kid the reason all the single men weren’t knocking down your door? That couldn’t be it. Nadia was amazing, all bright smiles and such an innocence that was refreshing in a world as dark it was. 

Even if you did have suitors, why were you taking the time to get to know him? He was damn sure nothing special and had nothing to offer you. Daryl growled at himself. He was jumping the gun. You hadn’t expressed any real interest in him. You wanted to have dinner. Aaron and Eric had him over for dinner all the time. It was what friends did. He was your friend after all. He had to be for you to trust him with Nadia. He snorted. Maybe that was all the brat’s doing and you were just along for the ride. 

His shoulders were slumped, feet dragging by the time he made it back to his house, already opening his arms in expectation of the bundle of Nadia that would be leaping into them any moment. “Dorl!” 

“She was about to strap on your crossbow and come find you herself.” Carol teased from the doorway. 

“I was barely gone twenty minutes, kid.” He nodded to Carol and turned back to take Nadia home. “Your mama’s at home makin’ something for supper. Ya hungry?”

“Mmmmhmmmm!” Little legs were swinging while bright eyes watched the street in front of them, her arms loosely around his neck, trusting him to not let her fall. And he would never. Daryl craned his head to look at her, all dark hair and big blue eyes. She could pass as his own kid to anyone who didn’t know better. 

Whoa. That train of that was roughly derailed. 

Easily done when the top of her head leaned against his temple and she began to hum some tune he didn’t know. It calmed his anxiety enough to not eat him from the inside out before he made it back to your house. Nadia was wiggling to be lowered before he could even get her to the steps. Much to her annoyance (if her little growl and pout were anything to go by), he didn’t place her on her feet until they were on the porch.

The door was still open and, man, he really wanted you to stop doing that.

“Mama!” Nadia squealed, running right into your arms.

“Hi, baby! Did you have fun with Daryl today?” You hefted her onto your hip, your face turned toward hers even though your smile was aimed at the archer.

“We always have fun.” He was close enough to ruffle the kid’s hair without invading your space.

“No shit!” Nadia proclaimed with her arms in the air. You were smiling but your eyebrows shot up toward your hairline. Daryl cleared his throat.

“M’a tell Carol to watch ‘er mouth.”

“Carol. Right.” You chuckled. You started to reach for his arm but must have thought better of it and motioned toward the dining room instead. He found he was disappointed. “Go ahead and sit down wherever. There’s some wine and water already there.”

Daryl liked wine. He’d partake when at Aaron and Eric’s for dinner but here? He wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. The table could seat six but there were three places set, the middle chair holding a booster seat. He didn’t sit, wouldn’t until you did. Instead he noticed how close the glasses of wine were sitting to Nadia’s place and took the liberty of moving each of them to the other side. Not that the kid would bother them but it just felt—right?

“Alright, kiddo. You get to eat first.” You weren’t carrying Nadia anymore but she was right behind you, looking up at the bowl of pasta like a pup that was about to get its kibble. Daryl was already lifting the kid into her seat when you turned from placing the bowl on the table. “Thank you.” You did touch his arm then. “Go ahead and sit. I’ll be right back.”

Nadia had apparently chosen his spot for him, patting the back of the chair to her left. Chewing on the side of his thumb, he glanced toward the kitchen. Wasn’t he supposed to pull your chair out for you or something? Aaron had. 

“No, no, Dorl.” Nadia pulled at his elbow, earning a halfhearted scowl before he realized she was trying to get him to stop the anxious habit.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, not sure why he was apologizing when she just went back to dancing and eating once he had dropped his hand. He watched her for a moment, just being a kid, innocent and oblivious to the dangers and heartache that lay in wait just outside of Alexandria’s protective walls. She and you—just two more people for him to mourn in the end. What was he doing there? He had no business being in your lives. If he didn’t lose the two of you, then you would lose him. It was inevitable. It was fate. It was the way the world worked now, tirelessly snuffing out any semblance of light that could give someone like him hope.

And goddamnit, he’d be devastated. He adored your kid and though he couldn’t quite decipher what it was that he felt for you, he knew that if anything happened to you, he’d shatter. 

“Daryl?”

“What?” He snapped out of reflex, not fully out of his head before he had realized you were speaking. You flinched, the pasta in the two bowls you were holding bounced but didn’t spill. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?” The bowls were placed on the table and a basket of fresh bread that he hadn’t noticed you had already brought out. How long had he been standing there?

“Yeah, uh—yeah, m’fine.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, suddenly feeling very trapped in the small room. It wasn’t really that small, was it? “M’just—” He didn’t finish before he all but ran to the door, closing it behind him like he really wished you would start doing. He had a cigarette lit within seconds, trembling fingers bringing it to his lips for a long drag. 

Pale light from inside cascaded around him as the door opened. You didn’t move any closer, obviously staying near Nadia while the little girl ate. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” Lie. 

“Come back inside?” You requested after glancing toward Nadia, finding her eating her pasta elegantly with her fingers. Daryl said nothing, wasn’t even sure he could, but he flicked his cigarette toward the sidewalk and stood, walking past you with but a beat of hesitance. 

Despite Nadia’s excitement at his return, he remained quiet, but offered the kid a ghost of a smile when she offered a bite of her own food. Disgruntled at his refusal, she wore her own version of a scowl and continued to eat. You had taken your seat, giving the bread basket a tiny shove toward the archer.

“Thanks.” He mumbled. He wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. Staring at his food, he questioned whether the way he usually ate might disgust you. It was never something he actively thought about. He grew up in a home where he snatched what he could get and ate it quickly before someone could take it or reprimand him for it. It was nearly the same now that the world had ended. Thankful for any scrap of food, but quick to make sure it was gone before someone came ready to fight for it.

“If you think any louder, I might be able to hear it.” 

Daryl glanced up, unable to meet your eyes. You were swirling the wine around in the glass with your gaze settled on him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s just dinner, Daryl.” 

With a barely there nod, he picked up his fork and began to eat, slowly and carefully, not noticing the way you watched him with a quizzical expression.

Nadia was having a hard time keeping her head up by the time dinner was finished, her little eyes closing before snapping open with a jerk of her head. 

“Time for bed.” You announced, attempting to wipe her face around languid movements of annoyance. “Come on, baby.” Lifting her from the chair, you tilted your head when she leaned her upper body back toward Daryl, reaching out with lazy, grabby hands.

“Dorl night night.”

Halfway out of his seat, he froze. “Think ya should, uh—your mama should handle this’un, Dia.” She didn’t seem to have it in her to argue, flopping onto your shoulder. You managed to hold up a finger, asking him to wait while you put Nadia to bed. He did, but busied himself gathering the dishes, taking them to the sink, and rinsing them out as Carol had trained him to do. “Wow, my very own human dishwasher. Can I keep you?”

Daryl felt the heat rise in his face, traveling down to his chest and up to the tips of his ears. “Stop.” God, you were just as bad as Carol.

“Daryl.” 

Oh, boy. Your tone had gone from playful to serious in two seconds flat. His stomach was in knots but he dared not turn around and rinsed the same bowl at least three times. “Hmm?”

“I’d like to see, uh—I’d like it if you'd come around more often. Tonight was—it was nice.”

And there it was. The one thing that had caused him so much inner turmoil now confirmed. You were interested and, for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. When he finally managed to get his tongue to work, the words that spilled out were nothing like the ones running through his head and he regretted them immediately. “Where’s Dia’s daddy?” Christ, Dixon. “M’sorry.” He tried to backpedal, finally turning toward you and leaning back against the sink with a white-knuckled grip against the edge of the countertop. “Ain’t my business.”

“Gone. I don’t really give a fuck where.” You shrugged, so nonchalantly that he had to look at you. “He didn’t want her. Nearly got himself killed finding pills for me to take. I refused, he left. But I have her and I hope he’s a walker.” Your gaze was fond but serious, and he found not a single trace of annoyance or anger. “She’s never really liked men. Even Aaron and Eric had to coax her inside for dinner with a stale candybar.” You laughed at the memory, and Daryl realized he could listen to that sound for the rest of his life. “But then you. She wasn’t afraid, not for a single second.”

“It was the ‘possum.” He shrugged, shyly ducking his head for only a moment but looking back up through his fringe when you laughed again.

“Okay, we can go with that.” You lifted yourself up onto the island, kicking your legs, reminding him of Nadia. “Doesn’t really explain why she stuck to you like glue every moment since then, though. Dorl this and Dorl that. I’m not complaining. You’re good for her.” Daryl scoffed, ducking his head once more. “You are, Daryl. And I think she might be good for you too.”

“She’s a kid. Don’t know no better.” He shrugged, the urge to run becoming more and more prevalent. He didn’t belong there. It wasn’t his family. Nadia wasn’t his kid and you weren’t his. God, he wished you were.

You hummed, holding back something. “I had fun tonight, but when you come back, don't worry so much about what I think, okay?” The way he tried to eat more slowly?

“Yeah, okay. Was nice. Thanks, uh—thanks for havin’ me.” The archer made the choice to pass you and head for the door. Your bare feet hit the floor just behind him. “I’ll see ya ‘round. Lemme know if ya need someone to watch Dia.” Why the hell did he offer that?

“I will. Thank you.” The smile you gave him was almost sad. Maybe disappointed? “Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Yeah. Night.” He crossed the threshold but turned back, keeping his head low. “Keep your door shut.” There was no time for you to answer before he was jogging down your steps, barely slowing his stride all the way home. All the lights were off when he arrived and he couldn’t be more grateful to slip in and down to his room to berate himself properly until he was finally able to fall asleep.

Logically, he should have avoided you since that night, but Daryl never claimed to be the brightest crayon in the box. He absolutely did not look for reasons to go to your house, satisfied to find the door closed each and every time. If he saw you carrying something, he’d jog over to take it from you, no matter how big or small. He responded by meeting Nadia in the middle each time she called for him, even if he was covered in dark blood and brain matter.

“Dorl smell ick.” She would say.

He was down bad and though he would deny it until his last breath with the age old line of we’re just friends, Carol was smarter than that.

“Daryl, you and I are friends. You’re sweet on that girl and you can fight me if you try to claim any different.” She stirred at the brownie batter, intermittently swatting away his hand when he tried to sneak a taste. “You should just tell her how you feel.”

“Stop actin’ like ya know ev’rythin’.” He snapped with no real heat.

“Okay, fine. I know nothing.” She stated coolly, spreading the mixture into a baking pan. “Except that Spencer has been spending an awful lot of time around her and Nadia.”

Well, that had his attention. “What? When?” He hopped off the countertop and was quickly standing just beside Carol, moving accordingly so that she could continue her baking.

“Usually when you’re out. I think you intimidate him.”

“Damn well better intimidate him.”

“Why? You’re ‘just friends,’ remember?” Daryl curled his lip at her air quotes, turning on a heel to head toward the door. 

“Shuddup.”

He hadn’t been focused, lingering on what Carol had told him that morning. Worrying that Spencer was putting the moves on you that very moment he wasn’t there to do anything about it. What if he’d missed his chance? He growled, trying to take more of his own weight off of Aaron but his leg burned and ached.

“Ain’t that bad.” He tried to brush it off, but it was, in fact, that bad. He hadn’t seen the damn trap, the walker backing him right onto it. He was lucky the dead bastard didn’t take a chunk of him when he went down, but Aaron was quick. Had Daryl been alone, he’d likely be snarling and growling on the ground with his calf still locked within that metal.

“Keep telling yourself that and maybe your stubbornness will keep you on your feet until we can make it back.” The other man huffed. “First Eric, now you. I swear, I’m cursed.” Daryl groaned but couldn’t disagree. 

Christ. The archer’s head was fucked. He couldn’t focus with images of you running rampant at the forefront of his mind. The way you would smile when you saw him; how you’d laugh when he’d huff at Dia for calling him Dorl; you’d have him for dinner a few times a week and it was less and less awkward.

He was so fucked.

“Open the gate!” Aaron called urgently. Daryl hadn’t even been paying attention but maybe zoning out was what brought him that far with such an injury. The toe of his boot was dragging, his leg both numb and throbbing in a way he couldn’t seem to understand was even possible. Sasha was yelling, but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. He was too busy trying to look over his shoulder at the steady crimson trail that followed them. Would walkers follow it right to the gates? “Jesus, okay. I’m going to get help to carry you to the infirmary.”

“Fuck Pete. Gimme Y/N or just take me home.” Daryl slurred, his head falling back against the metal just inside the gates. He was fading, tired and smothered by a dark cloud that was creeping into the edges of his vision and mind. He knew he wouldn’t die from this, but damn, did it still suck.

“Dorl! Mama, Dorl boo-boo!”

Tiny, warm hands were on his face. He was cold, didn’t even realize it. Big blue eyes were hovering right in front of his face, a little mouth between chubby cheeks speaking with an urgency that made him want to scoop her up and soothe the worry. “Dia.” He breathed, his mind finally catching up, though he wasn’t sure for how long.

“Nada kiss boo-boo.”

Daryl chuckled breathlessly but pulled the little girl against his chest. “Nah, baby girl, don’t kiss that boo-boo. S’gross.” Big crocodile tears were forming and falling, and his heart ached. His little girl was never supposed to cry, never supposed to even be sad. “M’okay. Your mama’s gonna make it all better, you’ll see.”

“Mama, Dorl got big boo-boo.”

“I see that, baby. Can you move so mommy can take a look?” You were there, your voice a balm to the pain that was slowly fading. 

“She’s alright.” Daryl shifted Nadia to his side, letting her hold on with her head on his filthy chest. You’d have to give her a bath later and somehow, he had the energy to feel bad about that.

“Jesus, Daryl, what did you do?” You were cutting the lower part of his pant leg, right there on the street, but he didn’t have it in him to see who might be watching. He muttered bear trap but didn’t really recall it being his voice. Was it even him?

The child holding to him made a noise when the wound was revealed, jagged punctures that still steadily bled and she shouldn’t be seeing that. Why wasn’t someone taking her away? “Ssh. S’okay, Dia. Just look at me—can ya hum that song ya always do when we take ya home?” A tiny sniffle but then a little tune in his ear.

“What happened? He okay?” Rick.

“Daryl!” Ah, Carol. Good.

“Hey, take her, would ya? Don’t need to be here.” He was gentle if not weak when he tried to hand off Nadia, kissing one of her little hands when he finally peeled them away from his neck. “M’a be okay, Dia.” She cried. Even as Carol promised her cookies and brownies, she cried and his heart ached more than his leg. He barely caught the word disinfect before the hellfire in his leg struck him like a hammer to the head and he knew no more.

“S’not that big’a deal. I can take care’a myself at home.” Daryl grimaced and watched you moving things around in your living room. You disappeared and returned several moments later with pillows and blankets. 

“I know you can, but I also know you’re stubborn as a mule and you’ll try to go out of those gates behind Aaron within a day.” He barely opened his mouth before you held up an authoritative finger. “Don’t lie to me, Daryl Dixon. And don’t pretend I don’t know at least a little by now.”

“Dorl!” 

Before he could process her voice, the archer had a lapful of toddler. It was hazy but he could remember how he felt at the gate, the protective instinct, the absolute knowledge that Nadia was his no matter how untrue it was. He couldn’t seem to shake it.

“Hey, Dia.”

“Be careful of his boo-boo, sweetie.” You admonished in the most gentle tone while propping Daryl’s leg up on a pillow. “He’s going to stay with us for a few days so I can keep an eye on him.”

“Why?” Came the innocent reply. 

“Because Daryl is naughty and doesn’t like to listen when he’s told he can’t do something. Like you with Miss Carol’s cookies.” 

Nadia gasped dramatically and turned those big blues to Daryl. “Dorl takes cookies.”

Glancing at you, expression bland, he nodded. “Yeah, I take the cookies.”

“So he has to stay right here on this couch unless mommy is helping him, okay? Can you be my junior nurse and make sure he stays put?”

“That ain’t fair.” Daryl objected with an indignant pout. 

“Why? Because you know it’ll work?” 

Daryl grunted and crossed his arms. He was in for a long few days. 

A week later, the stitches were out but there was residual swelling that was hindering healing. Nothing to worry about, you had told him. 

“Why ain’t Ken wearin’ no clothes?” Daryl was concerned to be ‘playing Barbies’ when Barbie wore a bathing suit and Ken was naked as the day he was—assembled? So far he’d been able to avoid dialogue and just bounce the doll around with facial expressions that kept the toddler occupied. “Seems a lil’ fucked up.”

“You try finding doll clothes nowadays.” There was laughter in your voice and tenderness in your touch while you cleaned the wound and changed the dressings. Only a couple more days of that. 

“Maybe I will.” The archer mused, standing the doll on top of Nadia’s head, keeping it there with his finger on the top. Her little arms could only reach the legs, facing reddening and scrunching with giggles. 

“Time to pick up your toys. Daryl needs to rest and you, missy, need to get to bed.” 

“Noooooo.”

“Don’t sass your mama.” Daryl dropped the doll in favor of patting the kid on the head. “G’on now.” The archer dropped an arm outward, fully expecting the hug that was incoming. “Night, kid.”

“Nigh’ night’, dada.”

It was at that moment Daryl Dixon completely forgot how to breathe. His eyes were already on yours before the kid decided to drop that bomb and skip away to brush her teeth like she hadn’t just turned his world upside down. 

“M’sorry. M’so sorry. I don’t—she didn’t—”

“I’m just—” you interrupted, backing toward the doorway, “I need to put her to bed.” You stumbled out of the room as if he were chasing you. 

He wasn’t sure he could move if he tried. His heart was in his nose, his stomach in his ass, and his lungs were plaited around his spine. Why would the kid call him dada? It made no sense. A couple of months wasn’t long enough for anything like that. Right? Fuck, he needed to talk to Carol. His brain was malfunctioning. He couldn’t process this. 

Throwing off the blankets, Daryl sat up, levering to his feet. He still had a limp but it was easier now. Shuffling to the exit, he stopped, staring at the handle of the closed door. You’d been doing that now, hadn’t you? He said something once and you had listened. 

“So you’re just gonna run away after that, is that it?”

The archer spun so fast that he lost his balance, righting himself with a hand on the wall. “It ain’t—I was—just needed to talk to Carol.” He admitted. His shirt was damp and he was certain he would vomit. 

“She didn’t mean anything by it, Daryl. I’ll talk to her.” You were wringing your hands, your chin wobbling. 

Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. He had the sudden desire to hug you but didn’t dare move. Aside from casual touches, bumping shoulders in jest, and of course the occasional wound treatment, the two of you had never physically interacted. Not that he hadn’t thought about it. Wow, had he thought about it. “I know she didn’t mean nothin’.” Ouch. Somehow that revelation was worse. 

“She loves you, Daryl. I’ll talk to her, I promise. Please don’t walk out on her. On—on me.”

He likely looked like an idiot hobbling half the distance to where you stood. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” When you nodded and dropped your head, he dared another unsteady step. “M’a stay as long as ya want me here. You an’ Dia.” With one hand, he touched your shoulder and left the decision up to you. You needed no further prompting to step into his arms. For a moment, nothing else mattered. But then you were stepping back.  

“Okay.” You nodded, turning your head to wipe away a tear you thought he didn’t already notice. “I like having you here.” He returned the nod silently. 

Nothing else was said. Daryl went back to the couch, you went to get ready for bed. The night went on with both you and Daryl feeling more alone than ever. 

“She really called you dada?” Carol asked in an excited whisper, the wide grin on her face in direct contrast to Daryl’s frown. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“No!” He shot back immediately, looking over his shoulder at the little girl playing on the living room floor. They had somehow even managed to get her to sit next to Judith’s playpen, so long as Daryl didn’t touch Lil’ Asskicker, peace remained. “I mean, yeah. Fuck, I dunno what I mean, Carol.”

“Daryl.” The seriousness in her tone brought his gaze to hers, flinching when he found her leaning on her elbows much closer than she had been just a moment ago. “I’m gonna ask you a question and I want you to answer me honestly.”

“Ain’t never lied to ya.”

“Okay.” Her eyes, just as blue as his own, narrowed. “Do you love that little girl?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” It was true. It was so different from how he loved Judith but yet completely the same. He would give anything for her to have been his, to have been there while you carried her. He wanted to spit on the man that tried to force you to end it. He couldn’t imagine a world without you and little Nadia anymore. It was as if the two of you were the missing pieces that could give him a chance to be whole. 

“And Y/N?”

“What?”

“Do you love Y/N?” Carol leaned back a little, her gaze no less intense. 

“S’a lil’ more—I, uh—”

“I said STOP!” 

Daryl was on his feet instantly at the sound of your voice, running outside. His limp was less profound and didn’t hinder him from descending the steps to see you across the street with your arm in Spencer’s grasp. You were likely on your way to collect Nadia.

“Come on, Y/N. You’re beautiful, and I’ve seen the way you look at me.” Spencer pulled you toward him. 

“You’re delusional!” 

“Stop being such a prude. You’ve got a kid. You think you got any other options out there?”

“Yeah! She does!” Daryl’s fist had already connected before the other man had even realized he was approaching. The archer stepped in front of you and stayed there, coiled to attack but holding steady until he was given a reason. 

“You?” Spencer spat, literally, a glob of blood and saliva landing next to Daryl’s boot. “The dirty redneck everyone’s afraid of? That’s laughable.”

Daryl started to move until he felt the smallest tug on his jeans. Nadia was looking up at him, equal parts curious and afraid.

“Dada mad?”

Your arms encircled his stomach with whispers of he’s not worth it repeated over his shoulder. “Get the fuck outta here an’ don’t come near my girls again.” The archer waited, arching a brow when Spencer hesitated. 

“You heard him.” Rick stepped up to Daryl’s left, Michonne and Carol on this right. “Best be going now.” Spitting again, the man curled his lip and scrambled to his feet, stomping off toward his mother’s home. “Well, that’s gonna be a problem.”

“I’ll go talk to Deanna.” Maggie offered, nodding at Rick but stopping to squeeze Daryl’s arm on her way by. What the fuck? Had everyone noticed?

“We should make ourselves scarce.” Michonne suggested with a knowing grin. 

Once they were all out of sight, Daryl deflated, one hand falling to the top of Nadia’s head. “Ain’t angry, Dia.” She sniffled and seemed to only hug his leg tighter. When it was clear he couldn’t turn with the added weight to his injured leg, you stepped around in front of him.

“Your girls?” You asked, expression so terrifyingly unreadable. 

“I just—he needed to leave an’ I didn’t want him to think he could come back ‘round.” His bottom lip was instantly being gnawed between his teeth. “Needed to make sure ya were okay.”

“So, we’re not your girls?” There was definitely disappointment there. You were wringing your hands again before reaching toward Nadia.

“I mean, if ya—yeah.” Daryl swallowed hard. “Yeah, you’re my girls. Have been for a while. M’just a idiot an’ I was—I’m scared. Don’t wanna be like my old man.”

You hummed, stepping into him to brush back the fringe across his eyes. “You haven’t told me anything about your parents, but I’m willing to listen. I wanna know everything about you.”

“Me too—’bout you, I mean. ‘Bout Dia.” He was reaching for your face, leaning in just as you did. His lips barely brushed yours before there came another tug at his jeans again. 

“Home, dada.”

You laughed while Daryl just looked stricken and confused. “You heard her, Daryl. Let’s go home and figure this out.” 

One Year Later 

“Daddy! Lookit picture!!” 

Daryl looked up from the mess of rabbits he was skinning on the porch, blowing upward to move some of the hair from his eyes. The almost four year old was sprinting down the street from the Grimes’ house, a piece of paper waving in her grip above her head. He waved to Michonne who had been watching Nadia make it back safely. “Whatcha got there, Dia?” She was grinning from ear to ear when she presented it to him, holding it out in front of her because ew no when he reached for it with bloody fingers.

There were three stick figures. One was obviously him if the crazy hair and scribbled attempt at a crossbow were anything to go by. A small figure was at his side, dark hair and a big smile: Nadia. And then there was you. Daryl snorted. You were a stick figure with a circle drawn around the middle. 

“Your mama’s gonna ‘preciate that, kid.”

“Appreciate what?” You stepped out with two glasses of water, placing them on the table and resting your hand on your swollen belly. Nadia proudly displayed the drawing and received a big smile and mhm, so pretty from you while Daryl snickered into his shoulder. “Go put it on the fridge, baby, and wash your hands. Supper’s nearly ready.”

“Okay, mama!” And off she went in a blur.

“Not funny, Dixon.” You dug your bare toes into his lower back until he yelped.

“S’a little funny.” He wiped his knife across his jeans.

“About as funny as you cleaning these rabbits on my front porch.” He ducked his head sheepishly when he turned to watch you lower into your chair. 

“I’ll clean it up, Sunshine. Don’t get all uppity ‘bout it.” Rising from his perch, he gathered the meat onto a parchment you had given him and wrapped it, leaving the bones and fur to handle later. “Dia! C’mere!” Moving at inhuman speed, she was looking up at him from the doorway the next second. Daryl jerked his chin toward a bag on the table beside his water glass. “Broughtcha somethin’ back.”

You leaned forward with curiosity and watched your daughter pull out the contents of the bag, barely catching a glimpse of the different colors before Nadia hugged Daryl’s leg and disappeared back inside with squeals of delight echoing in her wake.

“What did you bring her?”

Daryl smirked. “Told ya I’d find clothes for them dolls.”

[holylulusworld]

Naughty roommate

Summary: You come home with pie.

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Chubby!Reader (female)

Warnings: and they were roommates; mentions of masturbation, fun, crack!fic, implied smut; mentions of porn

Dean is sitting on the couch, grumbling under his breath as you walk into the living room.

Your roommate is in a bad mood, and you try your best not to let him see, your date was a disaster. He'd only try to soothe you.

“Hey, Deano,” you grin at him. “What’s up?”

“Not much.” Dean shrugs and goes back to staring at the TV. He didn’t switch it on, though. He stares at the blank screen while he presses a pillow to his crotch.

"Nothing interesting?" You question.

“What are you up to?” Dean trails off when he finally looks at you standing in the room, wearing a figure-hugging red dress and matching heels.

“Uh, I had my date,” you huff, and kick the heels off. A motion that doesn’t go unnoticed. He licks his lips and hums. “He was an asshole.”

“So,” Dean drops his eyes to your red heels while shifting on the couch, “you’re spending the evening with your under-loved roommate.”

“Under-loved?” You snort. “That’s not even a word, Romeo. Do I have to remind you that there’s an endless stream of girls leaving your bedroom with a dopey grin?”

He smirks now. That irresistible smirk letting women and some guys too go weak in the knees.

“Hey, I didn’t get any love for months,” he pouts and sniffs. “No one loves me the way you do.” He purrs and points at the paper bag in your hands. “I bet you got me delicious food.”

“What were you up to when I came home?” You look at the pillow on his lap. Smirking, you step closer to poke his shin with your toes. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Yeah…uh…sure,” he stammers. Dean turns his phone around, blocking your view so you can’t see what he was watching earlier.

“You’re not very convincing,” you sigh and look inside the paper bag. “What a pity. Now I have no one to share my pie with.”

“PIE?” His eyes darken, and he holds out his hands. “Give me some pie, sweetheart. I love me some pie.”

“I know,” you giggle at his adorable behavior. “Do you want some, sweetheart?” You love to tease Dean.

“Yes, give me some pie,” he almost begs. “I’m hungry.”

“Alright,” you plop down on the sofa next to your roommate. “If I share my pie with you, I’ll master the remote control tonight.”

“What?” Dean starts to sweat. He presses the pillow harder in his lap while glancing at your knees. Your dress is a little shorter today, and he feels something else than hunger.

“Give me the remote control,” you sass and hold out your hand. Dean reluctantly gives you the remote control. Before you can switch the TV on, Dean grabs his phone, fighting with the screen lock.

Dean curses under his breath. He can’t remember his pin to unlock his phone and struggles to keep a straight face when you ask him again what’s wrong.

You snort because his hands start to shake. “Is something wrong with your phone? Do you need my help?” You ask while switching the TV on. Dean doesn’t answer, busy fighting with his phone.

You stare at the TV, your mouth falling open when a video flashes up.

A dude looking like Dean is holding a pretty and very busty girl’s hips while he does her from behind. You choke on your spit, watching Dean’s face turn crimson in an instant.

“I can explain!” He says, still fumbling with his phone. “This is not what it looks like!”

“So, this is not a video from your phone you watched on our TV?” You smirk at Dean. “I bet someone else broke into our house and paired your phone with the TV.”

“It’s not…” He glares at you. “A man has needs. You wanted to go out, and I wanted to...practice some self-love."

“Dude…ew… We sit here,” you slap his thigh. “If you want to beat the meat, do it in your bed, or at least in your room.”

“Or the showers.” He offers, eyes dropping to your cleavage. “I can wash it off while showering.”

“No! I shower there too, Winchester. You won’t touch yourself and ruin the tiles, you dirty boy!”

He grins. “I know.”

You blink a few times while the girl on the screen screams even louder. She moans and groans while the dude fucking her looks like he’s about to have a heart attack.

If you ignore her awful make-up, she looks a little like you. Turning your head to get a better look at the woman, you gasp. She looks like a spitting image of you if you were a porn starlet.

Dean uncomfortably shifts in his seat. He dares not to meet your eyes when you snatch his phone out of his hands to take a look at his search history.

“Pretty chubby girl. Big boobs, sweet smile. Pie and sex. Sex with…” You turn your head again to look at Dean. “Dude, did you look for porn with someone looking like me?”

“Uh—” he nervously tugs at his shirt. “Well… I see you every day, and I thought it’s only natural that I jerk off to someone looking like you.”

“Hmmm…” You scroll through the videos he watched, finding one of you explaining how to stretch to him. “You fucker!”

Dean’s eyes widen when you play the video. You bend over and stick your ass out. He’s breathing hard on the video, and you can hear him groan.

“Dean…”

“Yeah?” He licks his lips while watching the video. “What is it, Y/N?”

“I know now how you can pay me back for the pie.” You throw his phone on the couch before grabbing his hand. You tug hard, forcing Dean to get up. “I think we should go to my room now.”

“What about the pie?” He looks confused as you guide him toward your room. “What about your no eating on your bed rule?”

“Oh, naughty roommate,” you smirk, and pat his chest. “You won’t eat pie in my bedroom but something else...”

Tags in reblog.

[luveline]

Please.... I beg of you... any KBD

<3<3<3 dad!steve x mom!reader, 1k

“I love you,” you say, bending down to give Steve a quick kiss. “But I’m going to spend fifteen minutes by myself in the bathroom. Cool?” 

Steve laughs. With the babies asleep and Avery not far from it in his lap, you’ve earned that and more. “Don’t get lost.” 

“Yes,” you say, slouched and tired as you limp away. “I won’t.” 

Avery rests her head on Steve’s arm. “Is she okay?” 

“Just tired. Someone’s always tired in this house, right?” 

“Not me.” She yawns.

Steve laughs and wraps his arm around her shoulders carefully. “Not you, you’re my trooper.”

“I’m the state trooper. That’s what Chief Hopper says.” 

She’s talked about Chief Hopper nonstop for the last week since he visited her class as school. He apparently wasn’t half as much of a hard ass as he was when Steve was in school. He brought candy. 

“You are?” he asks.

“Yeah!” she says, unaware of the stunt Steve is about to pull. She snuggles into his arms as he begins rubbing her back. 

Steve looks at her and all he sees is himself. It’s so fucking weird —he’d love to show teenage Steve, hell, even Steve at twenty, how his daughter will come out a carbon copy. He might as well be looking in a mirror, though her head is a little less square, her lips ever so slightly fuller. She’s all brown eyes and a silly giddy smile as she tells him her story again, her soft lashes drooping, and drooping as he hums uh-huhs, the side of his pinky running down her spine. 

She falls asleep in his lap. He knows how nice it feels to be held closely by someone you love as you sleep, so for a while he just holds her. They aren’t kidding about kids. You don’t have a clue in the world how much you can love another person, how badly you want to look after them, until you have your own. 

And Steve wouldn’t have his without you, so he owes you everything. He always has, regardless. 

Which reminds him. 

Steve carries Avery upstairs to her room, still small enough for a princess carry. He’s careful not to hit her head on the door jam (a marker of past experience), toeing open her door and yanking back the sheets on her bed. 

“There,” he whispers with a smug smile, laying her down, and tucking her in snug. “Love you, Ave.” He kisses her forehead and the line of her nose, rubbing her little chubby cheek in goodnight. 

He stands on the landing listening for you. You’re sniffing in the bathroom, forcing a rough bumping of his chest —he thought you were kidding about being upset. 

He knocks the door with one knuckle. “Honey? Can I come in?” 

“Depends on how eager you are to see me naked.” 

He rattles the door handle aggressively. You laugh from the other side. “No, but can I?” he asks.

“Stop being weird and come in.”

He opens the door. You’re in pyjama pants and a bra, your shirt on the radiator and water shining on your neck and collar. A vigorous face washing has occurred, hence your sniffing. “I thought you were crying,” he says, relieved. 

You hold your hands out to him and let him grab you by the waist, holding you up, your tacky face immediately dropping down into one of your shoulders. “Just got water in my nose.” 

He pulls you stomach to stomach, hand behind your shoulder and working up to your neck. You breathe out funny at his touch, maybe like you’ve missed it, your eyelids fluttering closed. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” he implores. 

You shake your head. “I’m not tired. I think I missed you today.” 

You spent the entire day together, but with the girls acting as hectic as they’d been he understands what you mean. It’s not like you got much time together. It was a good day, he just wishes there were more moments of you like this, in arms reach, under his hands, and totally at ease. 

“Who wouldn’t miss me?” he asks. 

You nod, as if to say, yeah, I forgot you’re a dick. Your eyes don’t open and yet he can see them rolling. 

“I missed you too,” he amends honestly, encouraging your face to his to kiss you while you’re unsuspecting. 

You sigh softly and kiss back, before working your way into the curve of his neck, where you also kiss. Your lips are soft as velvet. 

He covers as much of your naked back as he can with his arms. “Today feels a hundred days long. I’m so excited to go to bed, I’m like, thinking about it. Is that pathetic?”

“Très pathétique.”

He rubs the curve of your side quickly in agreement. “Super pathetic.” 

“Where’s my Avery?” 

“Sleeping in bed. Just you and me, honey.” 

“I’m too tired to brush my teeth.” 

Steve chuckles at your aggrieved moaning and stands you up properly. I can fix that, he thinks. 

First, he helps you into your shirt. You’re a grown woman who doesn’t necessarily need help getting dressed, but you’ve been his to look after for so long that you don’t question him when he holds the neck and arms out for you and pulls it over your head, down onto your torso. You’re smiling as he skirts around you for your toothbrush. You hold your hand out. He doesn’t give it, squirting toothpaste onto the bristles. 

“Show me those pearly whites,” he jokes, murmuring now so as not to disturb the quiet that’s descended in the house. 

He can see you thinking it through. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?” 

He takes your cheek into your hand. “Too weird?” 

“No,” you say, smiling at him with a generous, ridiculous amount of devotion, “not weird. I’ll probably laugh though, but if you don’t mind then sure, you can brush my teeth. I’d love that. I’ll just close my eyes and let you do the hard work.”

Steve ducks in for a careful, doting kiss, the smell of spearmint between you. 

“I’ll even floss for you,” he promises against your lips. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

[inkdrinkerworld]

Dad!Remus being roped into tea parties! Tiara, over exaggerated posh accents, tutus, and all 🤭 he takes it very seriously as well, when Uncle Sirius and James visit and think it’s partial joking, Remus is like “oh this is very serious and you will be forced into it. No, she doesn’t care that the tiara will get tangled in your hair”

wc: 1.2k of straight family fluff and Remus having sassy little daughters

“Daddy tea?” Bekah’s holding a little play kettle and standing in wobbling on shaky toes as she leans over the table.

“Yes please, little love.” He holds his cup out and watches imaginary tea pour right in and hides a smile when Bekah sneaks a sip.

Charlie is sitting patiently in her seat, “Can I have a scone? With jam?” There actually are scones, lest your babies starve- you swear they could eat through a house in a day if you let them.

Wednesday afternoons’ are Remus’ tea date with his girls while you get an hour or so to yourself, today you’ve gone to the hairdressers.

“What ‘bout Uncle Siri?” Bekah asks, setting down the kettle with a thump. She’s always worried about him, if he’s well, if he’s still on his bike (which scares her) and when he’s coming to see her. Specifically her.

“There’s quite enough, baby. Mum and I made extras for Uncle Jamie and Siri.” With that in mind she sets one on her plate and another on Charlie’s.

The doorbell rings as Bekah and Charlie giggle about the jam on their lips and Remus stands to open it. “Your uncles’ are here.”

Bekah breaks into a full sprint the second she hears Sirius and giggles like a madwoman when he scoops her up and blows on her belly.

“Hi Trouble,” he kisses her cheek and stoops to ruffle Charlie’s hair. “Hi dolly.”

She passes him up for James- he never sets her on her own two feet and gives in to the perfected puppy eyes she gives him.

Plus James is already up for a cuddle with her.

“We have the tea ready,” Charlie says to James letting him rub her back.

“Lead the way, shortcake.”

Sirius and James hadn’t believed Remus when he’d said that tea parties are a big deal in your house, so they weren’t expecting to see a little stand and a table fully laid and set with tea kettles, cups and a towering plate of scones and cucumber sandwiches.

Remus smiles in an ‘I-told-you-so’ kinds of way as Bekah and Charlie give specific instructions.

“It’s Bekah’s turn to be the tea server, but she’s little so no wrastling.”

“Hassling, Charlie girl.” Remus corrects softly and she nods.

“Hassling. Be nice to her or no scones.”

Like a little sister hanging on to her big sister’s every word, Bekah repeats, “Nice or no scones.” Only she doesn’t sound nearly as harsh and consonants like ‘n’ and ‘s’ are so stressed they sound long and cuter than they should.

Just as Bekah reaches for the kettle she stops, turns to Remus with a look of pure shock and says, “‘Iaras daddy!”

Sirius and James are confused and Remus clarifies, “The tiaras, it’s a whole affair.” He reminds them.

“Trouble do I have to wear one? I just did my hair-“

Sirius remembers why he calls Bekah ‘Trouble’ when she marches up to him wagging a tiny finger in his face. She hardly looks intimidating- more adorable than anything in her little dress.

“Body wears ‘iara Uncle Siri.”

That settles it then.

James takes one with purple gems, Charlotte the pink ones, Remus takes the blue, Sirius the clear and Bekah keeps her coveted red gemmed tiara.

James learns quickly how to hold a tea cup correctly, ‘pinkies up uncle Jamie’ whispered to him by Charlie and Sirius learns that Bekah is not to be messed with as she pours tea- numerous times she pours an ‘overflowing’ cup and covers her mouth as she giggles and Sirius grumbles about wet hands.

The tea party lasts longer than an hour, scones and real tea served when Remus takes the girls one by one to shower. Bekah comes down just as you get home, all tired smiles as she reaches for you.

“Hair,” she coos, chubby fingers twirling the ends of your curls. “Pretty mummy.”

Remus descends the steps with an energetic Charlie on his hip. “Very pretty mummy, you look stunning dove.”

“You did it lighter mummy! Looks like caramel.” Charlie gives you a quick kiss before wiggling out of Remus’ grasp and making for her colouring pages and pencils.

You blush and fluster under his compliments and more so when you note Sirius and James on the sofa looking a little exhausted.

“You boys enjoyed the tea party?” James nods with an earnest smile and Sirius flips into his lap.

“I think I’ve lost about three handfuls of hair from that little rugrat adjusting the tiara, but it was heaps and heaps of fun.”

Bekah flushes, hiding her face in your neck when you look at her.

“You look positively out of it.” You say kindly to them, hand fighting Bekah’s as she tugs at your neckline. “Let mummy change, Bekah baby.” She doesn’t let you go as you climb the stairs and Remus flashes you a little grin- she gets extra lovey when she’s tired and skipping her mid-afternoon nap in favour of tea parties and staying up to entertain uncle Sirius has made her even more so- which you don’t mind.

When you come back down, in a little house dress Remus had got you for your last birthday, Bekah is already feeding and half asleep.

Remus has a cup of tea and a couple scones and jam in front of you and Sirius is halfway to sleep himself.

“Mummy?” Charlie looks up from her pages.

“Charlie?” She giggles the way you do when Remus calls you all sweet.

“Next time can I come and do my hair caramel too? Or is it sticky?”

James chuckles when you all do, making Charlie blush.

“It isn’t sticky, but if you want next time you can come and we can see what the stylists will do.” You’re sure by that time she won’t be wanting caramel hair like yours and something else, something a little more punk and a little more Charlie- like purple.

Bekah’s snoring in ten minutes and you smile as she keeps a hold of your finger in her chubby hand.

“You boys staying for tea?” Remus asks them as he sits on the armrest of the sofa beside you, an arm around your chest as he pulls you into him.

“‘Ve had enough tea for a week mate, but it was lovely.” James says as he stands, taking Sirius with him. “Thanks for inviting us, shortcake.” Charlie rushes to give James the page she’s colouring before he leaves.

“S’of the garden by your house, uncle Jamie.” James coos, kneeling to kiss her cheek. “Thank you darling girl, it’ll go on the fridge yeah?” She nods a smile so big that you worry her cheeks ache.

“Bye uncle Sirius, maybe next time you can be the tea server so you don’t get wet hands.” He nods, kissing her forehead.

“You’re so kind, dolly. I’ll take that offer up any day, just don’t tell Touble, eh?” She mimes a sealed lip and Sirius winks.

They leave and you slump further into your husband. His hand coasting along your collarbones. “She had Sirius spinning in circles. Fixed his tiara every time he moved.”

You laugh, “She’s a little stern, our girl.”

Remus hums, “Still quieter than Charlie though.” You look at your first baby. She’s grown up so much, her sass mostly saved for days where she needs extra dramatics just because, but she’s still just the same as she was when she was younger. Still bold and still whip smart. Suddenly your heart aches as you remember her as little as baby.

“Come give mummy a cwtch, Lottie. Missed you today.” She’s up fast, needling into your free side and you sigh.

“Missed you too mummy. You smell nice.” You lean even more into Remus, his arms around all three of you, his chin on your crown. You can’t imagine a nicer life than this.

[michaelsfavgirl]

NSFW alphabet

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Tags: Smut, mention of mirror sex, creampie, toys, public play, foreplay, semi-exhibitionism, outdoor sex, somno, masturbation, size kink, mention of a foot fetish (oop), teasing, mike being whipped and pussydrunk, porn, oral (f & m), mike's enormous monster cock, edging, overstimulation, mention of dp…

Word Count: 4.8k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: You can tell I started to lose my sanity at the end

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Pop, Rock and Soul aren't the only things he's the king of, he’s also most certainly the king of aftercare. Michael takes aftercare to a whole new level, turning it into an art form that rivals his mastery of music. For him, aftercare is not just an afterthought, it's as important as the act itself and the foreplay leading up to it. You’ll never catch him lacking

After the heat of passion has subsided, he gently guides you to lay on your shared, soft sheets, allowing you to catch your breath while he admires you with a look of pure adoration in his eyes. His touch is tender as he massages your heated skin, soothing any lingering tension and leaving you feeling utterly cherished.

Alright I'm going off on a tangent, back to aftercare! When it comes to cleaning up after sex, Michael prefers to do things properly. Instead of reaching for a mere wet rag, he opts for a shower or bath, finding the experience infinitely more intimate. With his hands in the warm water, he lavishes attention on every inch of your body. While he may melt at the suggestion of you returning the favor, his focus remains solely on pampering you.

Physical exertion is strictly off-limits after sex. Michael won't hear of you doing anything even remotely taxing. Instead, cuddles are mandatory.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Michael's adoration for you is evident to anyone who crosses your path; it's as if you radiate an otherworldly beauty that captivates all who are fortunate enough to behold you. From the strands of your hair to the tips of your pedicured toes (which, of course, he insists on paying for), you are nothing short of a goddess walking among mortals. If you asked him to choose a favorite part of your exquisite form, he would malfunction, how dare you make him choose? 

…however, when it comes to the sexual side of your relationship there are certain aspects of your body that he simply can't resist fixating on. He loves your hips, his large hands seem to have a mind of their own as they instinctively find their way there. Loves to squeeze them, especially when you’re in company and he needs to silently convey his yearning for you. Now if you’re chubby/plus size he’s obsessed with your love handles. Marveling at the way his fingers effortlessly find purchase in the soft folds of your flesh, when he’s taking your breath away with each thrust of his hips.

As for Michael's own body, it’s no surprise that he likes his hands. I mean have you seen them?! He knows the effect they have on you, he's caught you, not so discreetly, staring at them on multiple occasions. Loves to make you watch him play with your wet cunt in front of a mirror. He firmly yet gently cups your jaw to make sure your eyes stay glued to your reflection as he pushes his fingers into you, scissoring them in and out while slipping his thumb past your lips. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Certified creampie lover. Yes, seeing your soft skin glistening with his pearly beads of cum is undeniably arousing but it's the sight of his spent oozing out of your sensitive pussy that truly drives him wild. That sight alone is enough to get his length hardening in an instant. 

There's something undeniably primal about the way he fills you to the brim, until his own semen spills over, unable to be contained by your warmth, trickling down your slit in a deliciously messy display. The added messiness and the sinful squelching sounds only serve to send him into overdrive, fueling his desire to claim you again and again.

On occasions when there's no need to leave the confines of your home, Michael isn't shy about shoving his creamy mess deep into you with his thick fingers, then nonchalantly pulling up your panties as if it's the most natural thing in the world. He unashamedly revels in the sheer debauchery of watching you walk around with his cum dripping out of you, soaking your underwear. And just when you think he's done, he'll surprise you with an occasional check, slipping his warm hand under your panties to slide his fingers between your folds, deliberately ignoring your clit as he teases you about how drenched you are.

However, if Michael is feeling slightly remorseful or if you two have places to be, he'll opt for a more discreet approach. In such instances, he'll push a plug past your tight entrance, ensuring that his creamy aftermath is neatly contained within you. But this "tidiness" comes with a price—the plug he chooses is usually a remote-controlled vibrator, allowing him to maintain his dominance over you even when you're out in public. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Michael is an open book when it comes to sharing his fantasies and kinks with you, but there are certain desires he keeps hidden, reserved for the privacy of his own mind. One such secret, (yes there’s multiple) nestled deep within the recesses of his consciousness, is somnophilia.

There's an undeniable allure to the sight of you lost in slumber, your features softened by the peaceful embrace of unconsciousness. As you lie there, your slow, rhythmic breaths filling the room, Michael finds himself mesmerized by the sight of your sleeping form. He can’t help the blood pumping in his veins when you inch your leg higher, seeking a more comfortable position, whilst inadvertently revealing tantalizing glimpses of your clothed pussy. 

He only wants to rub your little clit that's all, or maybe also slip a finger or two into your slippery hole. Can you blame him for wanting to make his precious girl feel good? For wanting you to wake you with that familiar, pleasurable sensation between your legs?

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

As much as the media wants to portray him as a clueless virgin to the public, behind closed doors, he's far from inexperienced. He's no prude and unfortunately for his mama he didn't wait till marriage. Trust he knows what he's doing. He knows his way around a bedroom, his every touch calculated to elicit gasps of ecstasy. With Michael, there's no fumbling or uncertainty.

In the beginning, when you first became intimate Michael made it his mission to commit to memory the nuances of your body and what turns you on. He focused solely on you, trying to gauge your reactions, see what brought you the most pleasure and what you didn’t seem too fond of. He learned to read your body like a well-worn book, to anticipate your every whim and desire before it even crossed your mind. His touch became more intuitive, his movements more fluid, as he effortlessly guided you to the heights of ecstasy and beyond.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

To him, it's an absurd question because He has no issue with bringing you the most pleasure in any position. and he's more than willing to explore them all with you. Of course, if you have one, he's more than happy to accommodate. Your satisfaction is his top priority, and he'll go out of his way to make sure you're getting exactly what you want. 

But I know you want to know more so here are honorable mentions: The mating press: oh lord, he’s obsessed with how deep he can go. He revels in the sensation of plunging deep into your drooling cunt, his hips slamming against yours with a ferocity that borders on animalistic. Almost cums on the spot at the sight of your jaw unhinging as his tip kisses your cervix with each powerful thrust. 

Standing up/against a wall: these are mainly reserved for quickies. Loves the urgency, the need to satisfy your needs in the heat of the moment. He delights in pushing you against a wall, his hands gripping your hips as he slides into your puffy cunt with abandon. Bonus points for watching your ass jiggle.

Low doggy style: prefers this one over the traditional doggy as you have to do even less. There's no need to strain your spine or hurt your elbows; no, instead all his sweet girl has to do is lie comfortably on the sheets and let him do all the work.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Michael has a fantastic sense of humor, most of his friends and family will agree. However, when it comes to matters of the bedroom, he adopts a more serious demeanor. He wants your thoughts to meld together, your senses attuned to the delicious stretch of his cock or the tantalizing sensation of his mouth between your legs. To introduce humor into such a sacred space would be to risk disrupting the delicate balance of pleasure and passion that he works so tirelessly to achieve.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Michael takes great pride in his grooming habits, ensuring that he is always impeccably clean and well-maintained, especially when it comes to his nether regions. While he may not be a fan of shaving, he keeps his pubic hair neatly trimmed, finding that the hair adds a touch of masculinity to his appearance. However, he does make an exception when it comes to his balls, preferring to keep them smooth for your convenience and enjoyment.

As for his preference when it comes to your grooming habits, Michael has a strong preference for a full bush. This is factual, you can't tell me otherwise. He's a product of the 70s era, where lush and natural pubic hair was the norm. The wilder the better. He told me so himself.

Adores when it gets messy with his cum or feels it dampen with your arousal as he pleasures you. He loves the way the soft hairs brush against his cheeks when he's sucking on your clit or when your pubic hair tangles with his own as he thrusts deeply into you.

Plus when the two of you are lounging on the couch, boredom sometimes leads him to slip his hand under your pants to absentmindedly play with the tufts of hair at the top of your mound. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

For Michael, sex isn't just a physical act, it's the ultimate expression of intimacy and connection. He views it as something sacred, a deeply personal and meaningful experience. He’s always doting on you in your relationship so that doesn’t change in the bedroom, he actually becomes even more affectionate. From gentle whispers of endearment to tender kisses placed upon your skin, he leaves no doubt in your mind that you are his everything, the center of his universe, and he is utterly devoted to your pleasure and satisfaction.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you entered his life, Michael's hand was no stranger to his throbbing shaft, especially with the weight of carrying the entire music industry on his back. Masturbation served as a way to let off steam and alleviate the relentless stress. But once you became intimately involved, his solo sessions dwindled significantly. Your touch, your scent, your very essence eclipsed any pleasure he could derive from his own hand. So, he'd much rather wait to get his hands on you. 

Even when you're not in the mood, he holds off. Some might say he edges this way but of course, he'd never admit to such lewd accusations.

However, when the demands of touring keep him separated from you for months on end, Michael's resolve is put to the ultimate test. Alone in his hotel room, he finds himself unable to resist the primal urge to seek release. With your panties clenched tightly in his fist, his hand moves with a frenzied urgency, his shaft pulsating with need as he conjures vivid memories of fucking you senseless, eagerly counting down the days until he can hold you in his arms once again.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lowkey a freak. All that repressed sexual desire from being in a highly religious household really did its thing, taught him how to conceal his deepest yearnings behind a façade of propriety and restraint. Considers himself more kinky than most. Even when he comes across someone who's also into kinky stuff they’re usually into the typical bdsm-like things whilst Michael's tastes veer decidedly into the realm of the unconventional. our man gets off on the weirder fetishes. (still love him though)

Aside from those when it comes to the more “normal” desires he’s into immortalizing your most intimate encounters with a click of his camera shutter. Polaroids and videos of the most raunchy moments that would put Kim K’s tape to shame. Of course your faces are still always out of the frame, after all, discretion is important when you're the most famous person in the world.

Has a raging size kink that borders on obsession. (not talking about body size) Each time he has to prep you with his fingers, the sensation of stretching you to accommodate his girthy cock makes his brain melt. Also unashamedly loves being messy and spitting in your mouth. I could go on forever listing them so let’s stop, we've got more to talk about. 

 Also may or may not have a foot fetish, but i didn't tell you that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Mainly prefers the privacy of your neverland ranch but he's not limited to the confines of the bedroom. There’s no surface in your home that hasn’t been christened by the both of you. from the kitchen counter to the inviting waters of the pool.

Considers himself a semi-exhibitionist, relishing in the thrill of the forbidden without the desire to actually get caught in the act. There's something about the risk of being discovered, of stifling your moans with his palm while keeping a vigilant eye out for prying eyes. It's the adrenaline rush of teetering on the edge of discovery that sets his pulse racing.

Outside of your haven he prefers either his dressing room or somewhere out in nature. Making love to you while you're laying on a soft blanket in the middle of a flowery field while the birds are chirping? Sign him the fuck up.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Michael's motivations are as straightforward as they come: you. The simple presence of your divine form is enough to send his desire into overdrive. Call it whipped if you must, but he sees it as a privilege to be enraptured by the allure of the sexiest woman in existence.

Strangely enough, it's not the overtly seductive gestures that get him going. No, it's the everyday moments, the mundane activities that hold the power to ignite the flames of passion within him. You can be lounging on the couch beside him, lost in conversation on the phone or simply lost in your own thoughts and the innocent sound of your sighs or the arch of your neck as you stretch will get him chubbing up instantly.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Michael has firm boundaries when it comes to certain acts in the bedroom, rooted in the trauma he endured at the hands of his father. The idea of causing you any harm, whether physical or emotional, is utterly unthinkable to him. Squeezing your hips? Sure. a spank on your soft ass? Alright. but anything more aggressive or degrading is strictly off-limits. The thought of leaving a mark on your delicate skin or causing you any distress sends shivers down his spine.

Another thing that's off the table for Michael is pornography. He simply can't bring himself to watch other naked women when he's got his very own P.Y.T. by his side. Besides, with his penchant for taking Polaroids and videos, he's got his own personal collection that far surpasses anything he could find online. Why settle for generic smut when he has the real deal right in front of him?

At last, subbing is something he’ll never do. Nope, not happening. He's a pleasure/service dom through and through, and the idea of you putting in any work to satisfy him instead of the other way around? Yeah, that's a major turn-off for him. Katherine didnt raise no 50/50 “let's split the bill” goon.

When he's really exhausted but still wants to please you, he'll reluctantly let you take the reins. Will let you bounce on his fat cock as you use him for your own pleasure. It's the closest thing to submission you'll ever get from him, but even then, that doesn’t happen often and he's still calling the shots, making sure you're getting exactly what you need while he serves as your willing plaything.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Michael's got a Ph.D. from the pussy eating academy, wait no, scratch that, he's the one who founded the university. He’s the founding father, the dean, and the star pupil all rolled into one. Therefore he's more of a giver. It's not just a preference; it's a calling. Sounds overused but he really could spend hours nestled between your thighs, worshiping at the altar of your pleasure. 

And let's talk about his chronic clit-sucking habit. Once he gets going, there's no stopping him. He'll latch onto that little bundle of nerves like his life depends on it, not even bothering to detach his lips when he sees it swollen and sensitive from his ministrations. And when your thighs instinctively squeeze around his head, well, let's just say it's his version of heaven on earth. Deny him the chance to feast on you daily, and he'll legit start having wet dreams about it. No joke.

Now, when it comes to receiving oral, Michael's a bit more reserved. He prides himself on being a gentleman, and making you kneel on a cold wooden floor just doesn't sit right with him. He'll only let you go down on him on special occasions, and even then, he's careful not to push you too far. You won't be deep-throating him anytime soon—just the tip, thank you very much. He's all about ensuring your comfort, and he's not about to let you strain your jaw for his pleasure.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He's somewhere in between. He's quite blessed downstairs so he knows he needs to tread carefully to avoid accidentally causing you any discomfort. “Technique is more important than pace” truther. That being said, there are moments when he's not afraid to let loose and take you hard and fast, especially if he's feeling particularly stressed or you've been a bit of a brat.

But if he's not in the mood for a wild romp, it'll take some serious convincing, a healthy dose of luck, and maybe a few well-timed puppy dog eyes to get him to crank up the intensity. And if you manage to persuade him to pound you into the mattress he'll step up his aftercare game to a whole new level.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

There's something undeniably thrilling about swiftly pulling aside clothes, not bothering with the formality of full undressing, and dropping to his knees to bury his head under your skirt for a quick taste of ecstasy. The urgency of it all, the risk of getting caught, it's enough to send shivers down his spine and get his blood pumping. He gets it, he really does.

But as much as he enjoys the occasional quickie, nothing compares to the ecstasy of taking his time with you. Michael is all about savoring every moment, prolonging foreplay until you're practically begging for release. He revels in edging you to the brink, pushing you to the very limits of pleasure until you're a quivering, whimpering mess beneath him. And when you finally can't take it anymore, when you're cumming so hard you can barely see straight, that's when he knows he's done his job right. 

Seeing your legs trembling, your eyes rolling back in bliss, and your beautiful face contorted with pleasure is the ultimate reward for him. So while quickies may have their appeal, for Michael, nothing beats the pure, unadulterated ecstasy of taking his time and making you cum over and over again.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Michael is all about pleasing you so if you've got a fantasy you've been dying to try, you can bet he'll be game for it. Even if it's not exactly his cup of tea, he'll give it a shot at least once, just to see the look of satisfaction on your face. There are very few things he’d not try, especially with you. Your pleasure is his top priority, and he'll go to great lengths to ensure you feel comfortable and fulfilled in the bedroom. So don't be shy about sharing your wildest fantasies with him – he's always eager to turn your dreams into reality. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You could be lying there, barely able to catch your breath after multiple rounds, and he'll be grinning like a Cheshire cat, asking if you can give him one more orgasm. And trust me, you never have to worry about taking too long to cum or him finishing before you do as this man can dance, sing, and entertain on stage for hours on end without breaking a sweat. 

You’ve never had an experience when you didn’t cum or that he climaxed first. Absolutely not. He's a master at making sure you reach climax first, every single time. He's all about you and your pleasure baby. You'll never leave the bedroom unsatisfied when Michael's in charge. 

He usually goes for three rounds and can last around thirty minutes before he finally lets himself climax. And even then, his refractory period is short – just a few minutes, maybe ten if he's had an especially intense orgasm. So rest assured, you'll be in for a wild ride every time you're between the sheets with him.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does have a stash of toys that are mostly for your pleasure and he's not shy about putting them to good use. From vibrators to plugs to dildos (none bigger than his own length, of course) to lots of lube, he’s got everything you need.

 He is not one of those men who get insecure and compare themselves to silicone toys. In fact, he sees them as valuable tools for enhancing your pleasure, not as competition. He knows that they can help him make you feel even better. They're besties not enemies.

He's especially into the idea of double penetration, but he's not about to invite someone else into the bedroom to make it happen. That's where the toys come in handy. He can fill both of your holes at the same time, giving you the kind of mind-blowing pleasure you crave.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

After music teasing you is his second most favorite thing to do. You hate how naturally it comes to him. No matter what the situation, he always manages to find a way to make your face feel hot, leaving you squirming and begging for more. 

It's almost unfair how good he is at it. One minute you're just minding your own business, and the next, he's got you swatting at his arm and burying your face in his chest, trying to hide the embarrassment. But deep down, you secretly love every second of it – even if you'd never admit it out loud.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Unlike some guys, Michael isn't shy about letting the world know when you're making him feel good. He's a vocal one, and he sees no reason to hold back. I mean, why would he want to hide the fact that you're driving him wild with pleasure? Especially when you're at home, he couldn't care less if the maids or security overhear (they've all signed NDAs anyway), he's not holding anything back.

And let's talk about that mouth of his. It's downright filthy, I tell you. Once he gets going, there's no shutting him up. He's always whispering the nastiest, dirtiest things into your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making your gummy walls clench around him like a vice.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Remember the dildos I mentioned in the toys section? Well this little freak has made a custom made dildo for you that is an exact replica of his cock. Yeah, you read that right. I’m going to give you a second to take that in……

he was absolutely buzzing with excitement, literally had his dick in a mold, imagining your reaction when you laid eyes on it.

Before jetting off on tour, he carefully placed this anatomically accurate marvel in a discreet box on your bed, like a tantalizing treasure waiting to be discovered. And then, without so much as a backward glance, he vanished to conquer stages in far-off lands, leaving you to uncover his risqué gift in his absence.

When you finally laid eyes on that uncanny replica, your face surely turned as hot as a boiling teapot. From the lifelike color to the intricate veins, every detail is meticulously crafted to match the one you’re all too familiar with.

When Michael called you from across the globe, you could practically hear the mischievous smirk in his voice as he awaited your reaction, fully aware of the tidal wave of emotions that “little” creation would unleash.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I'm just expanding on this post I made a while ago. 

He’s 7 inches when soft, 9 when hard. And before you start with the "unrealistic" talk, let me stop you right there, this blog is not the place for that. We're on Tumblr for crying out loud. Besides, rumor has it that Michael was packing something closer to a 12-inch monster, so let's just say 9 inches is well within the realm of possibility for our man. 

But besides length you may say “length isnt everything its all about the girth” you are correct and to that i give you one hint–can of soda.(which is around 21 cm btw). He is absolutely obsessed with the fact that your hand can barely wrap around his impressive shaft.

Also he's uncut, with faint veins tracing their way all over, adding an extra layer of sensation as they glide against your slick walls. Has big soft balls to match the length. They are very sensitive so every time they slap against your bottom he's panting from the sheer overstimulation. Sucking on them during oral for longer than a few seconds  will have you witnessing a rare sight of him losing his control.

Michael takes great care of himself physically so his cum tastes relatively good, never have you felt the need to spit it out. It's so thick and milky as well, all that creamy goodness looks mouthwatering, painting your skin or insides.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Good luck soldier cause he has a very high libido. And he has the audacity to blame it on you. He'll look you dead in the eye and say, "How can I not be insatiable when I wake up next to the most beautiful girl in the world?" Cheesy bastard. 

As much as Michael yearns for you every damn day, he's not about to let his desires override your comfort. He's a gentleman through and through. If he notices that you're still feeling sore from the previous night's escapades, he'll restrain himself because at the end of the day, your comfort and well-being come above anything else, even his insatiable hunger for you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

you're usually the first one to tap out. After all those gentle caresses and sweet nothings whispered in your ear, it's a wonder you manage to stay awake at all. But Michael's not the type to tease you about it, he's too busy showering you with praise for how well you did for him. He'll pull you close to his chest and tell you to close those pretty eyes and rest. There's no better lullaby than the sound of his steady heartbeat as you drift off into dreamland. Makes sure you are snuggled up close to his chest before he lets himself drift off.

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

Taglist: @theladyinmoscow @yeriminist @yeaiamme2 @helloaugustmoon @cinnamoncunt @theladyofmylife @minekarina @kionaaa @theskinniestjackson-denny @leociinta @graciegizmo3184 @theasexual-jackson @mrsmikaelsxn @fallinlovewithevil @armasbw @b3rk1ey @sirusxx @maybe7tommorow @falllovesomemichealjackson @moonuoi @iconsmjj

[aforestescape]

thinking about older bf simon x younger reader

content includes: fat simon yummy, afab!reader, short reader, fat/chubby reader, cunnilingus, completely self indulgent

yeah i also wrote this at like 3 am:) enjoy

you meet at the grocery store you frequent. somewhere in between aisles as you’re on the phone with your cousin. talking over plans for the weekend, meeting up for drinks at her place and ordering in dinner and cheesecake. a little ways down the aisle is a tall, broad figure. you'd spotted him a minute or so previously, eyes stuck to him for a few seconds too long. eyeing the way his arms and stomach filled out the material. the barley noticeable flex as he moved to grab his item.

letting your eyes trail up from his stomach, chest, neck, and then finally his face only to realize with a start that he was looking right at you. honeyed eyes trained directly on you. watching you watch him with an intense stare that had you immediately turning out the lane. embarrassment flushing your body a few degrees hotter than normal for being caught checking this man out.

as you end your phone call and enter a new aisle you pass through it, grabbing a snack that’s no where on your grocery list but you deserve a treat. as you reach the end you find what you’re looking for. only three items left and they’re stuffed back against the shell. you roll your eyes in annoyance, rocking up onto your toes as you stretch for it. your fingers grazing over the baggy but not close enough to pinch between your fingers.

you plant back down on the ground, letting out a huff of air. pressing your body into the shelf as you attempt to grab it once again. you’re a little closer to grabbing it now. almost managing before a black clothed arm reaches past you to pluck the item.

simons hulk directly behind you, standing in a black hoodie and his normal mask covering the bottom half of his face. it doesn't hide the scars that liter the rest of it though or the ones on his hands as he reaches past you to grab the bag of granola you'd been trying to get. he steps back slightly and gives the bag to you.

you offer him a smile and thank him, voice quiet as you take in his face up close. you can only see from the bridge of his nose and up. a long scar peeking out from the half skull mask. he lets out a grunt in acknowledgment, turning to walk away before you stop him. you take a small breath, deciding to be brave because how bad could it be to ask?

“er- i hope this isn’t weird to ask, but are you single?”

he’s not expecting the question, staring you down for a few unnerving seconds before telling you that, yes he is single. and after exchanging numbers you spend the rest of the week messaging. his answers are sparse through the day but he tells you it’s because he works security during that time. he asks you about your days at night when you’re heading to bed, enjoying your mundane rambles and work tea over the phone.

you send him a picture before and some videos after you getting drunk at your cousins flat. loud music playing in the background as you down a shot, nose scrunched slightly before grinning at the camera. another of you dancing with a friend? he assumes, both of you with cups in your hand and giggling while you twirl around in her kitchen.

you haven’t known each other long at all in the grand scheme but he’s sure he can get used to this. hearing your drunken laugh and slurred speech as you head to your front door from your uber. still living at home and in your last year of university but he doesn’t care. it appeals to him honestly, your brain and that you’re studious enough to have seeked out higher education of your own wanting. he didn’t, knew it wasn’t something he’d be able to do in place of getting away from his awful home life.

leaving his mother and brother behind, doomed to their fate in order to escape the father who raised him. he praises you for it as the weeks go by and you stress to him about mid terms. over in his flat after classes, sat on the floor of his living room with books spread out. every so often he’ll reach his hand down from his spot on the couch, large fingers smoothing over your head like you’re a pet. petting your head and soothing you in his own way.

he’ll take you out on dates on his days off or pick you up to come over to his. he prefers being inside and smaller places. something he’s glad you accommodate to though really you also prefer to be indoors. date nights consisting of standing in his kitchen, prepping for dinner and talking with low music in the background. smiling and reaching on your toes to give his cheek a soft peck as he loops his thick arm round your waist.

you still hadn’t seen his entire face yet but well, you didn’t care much. it couldn’t be that different and the half you could see was attractive enough. and so was his body. you’d always been attracted to thicker frames. hairy chests and abdomens that cover up fatter tummies and delicious pecs. it both made you go absolutely feral and also made you feel more comfortable with your own thicker body.

having grown into a curvier and chubby body came with the occasional feeling of unattractiveness. it wasn’t true at all, your weight and curves only adding to your beauty, something simon said to you whenever he’d catch the way you’d stare at yourself in the mirror sometimes. leaning down and wrapping his bulk around you from behind. big, freckled and scarred arms holding you flush against him so you could feel the swell of his cock.

he’d kiss up and down your neck through his mask. low and thick accented voice singing your praises while his hands would search and grope the rolls on your body. holding the weight of your breast in his hands and squeezing as you’d moan in his arms. simon letting out a chuckle before kissing you again and keeping on with exploring you. coaxing you into bed where he could spread your plush thighs apart and worship you for hours.

keeping them apart with his forearms as he lapped up your arousal. a pillow under your lower back and your hands caught in the sheets, tugging on his hair, covering your face as you moaned in bliss. simons warm tongue spreading your lips as he flicked the muscle up and down them. letting his saliva pool and add to the obscene noises filling the air of his bedroom while he dined on you.

devouring your cunt, one hand on your stomach. caressing and squeezing and pushing down gently on it. roaming upwards to pluck and tug on your sensitive nipples. making your back arch as you cried out from the stinging pleasure. moaning into your slick cunt as he sucked on your clit. sucking and licking back down to stick his tongue inside your hole.

he’d go on for hours, holding your trembling body and praising you through every orgasm. even as you cried and shook from exertion, plush body covered in a layer of sweat. vision blurred and mind fuzzy around the edges. moans of how good you tasted, how pretty you were, how perfect your body is. all just for him, “just for me, right doll? only i get to eat this pretty pussy of yours. all mine, hm.”

and when he was finally done he’d clean you up. hold you in his arms under the blankets while you thanked him softly. pressing kisses to his chest in your sleepy and fucked out state. the telly on some random cartoon as you both drifted off in each others arms.

in a funnier world simon doesn’t actually help you at the grocers. he reaches past you and just as you’re going to turn and thank him for the hand he places the last of the granola in his own cart buggy and goes about his day. never mind the cutie who was staring at him for some reason?

anyways there will be another part cause i didn’t even get to the scene that made me want to write this🤭prepare for angst in the future hehe

[shaisuki]

"fuck, princess. you will be the death of me."

the scar on the corner of his mouth moves as his lips twitches into a smirk. involuntarily licking his scar.

'hm?" you hum, looking at him with such curiosity. making your head tilt sideways like kittens do when trying to comprehend something.

"you're wearing my shirt, princess."

"yeah." you breath out. grabbing the hem of his white shirt. fully emphasizing that it is his what you are wearing. although a little bit tight to you.

he can see the your stomach stretching out his shirt and squished in between the rolls of your stomach. hardened nipples peeking through the confines of clothing. his dark emerald eyes drinking in the sight of you.

reaching the peak of domesticity and homely feeling running in his system.

his gorgeous, chubby wife. dressed in his clothes.

"i miss you so much and i thought wearing it would me feel less lonely." you explained, innocently fluttering your eyelashes at him with a gentle smile in your lips.

"miss me?" he asks, grabbing your soft jaw with his hands, squishing the flesh in them.

"yeah."

legs raised, your soft thick thighs pressing in your stomach while toji roughly drills his cock into your sopping wet cunt. his hands splayed besides you. gripping in the sheet while he got you pinned under him.

"t-toji..." you called his name. your whole body taking the blow of his desperate thrusts. every pound you take got your body shaking. toes curling, legs going numb. that call seem to fuel him more. grunting at the sound of his name coming from your pretty mouth.

he's insatiable. every thing you do drives him into an uncontrollable habit of fucking your brains out. he can't help but to think how an asshole like him bagging a woman like you. soft and sweet. so adoring to a scum like him and fuck you got the best pussy he ever had.

tightly wrapped around his huge cock. making every vein and skin drag throughout your velvety walls. sending you in the most numbing pleasure and him into overdrive.

you look so divine under him. the flesh in your stomach, creasing as it folded under toji's touch. the soft, pliable flesh jiggling at the rhythm of his thrusts. your breasts bouncing and your face. twisted into the euphoric feeling of him being inside you.

holding your cheek in his large hand while looking at your eyes. beautiful and full of life staring right back at him. lost in each others gaze while he truly makes love with you.

creamy, white liquid gushing around his length. making an obscene noise. the squelch and the "plap" sound continuously ringing in the room. skin hitting to each other.

"you going to cum, princess?" he whispers, in between licking your cheek and sucking your tongue.

"yes! make me cum, toji. please..." you beg, your fat cunt clenching around him tightly and toji gives in to you. pressing your thighs in your stomach before changing into an animalistic phase. so much, that it leave you breathless and mind hazy.

your cunt spasms around him. milking him for all it's worth and toji gave in. his balls tightening before exploding inside you. thick, hot spurts of his cum pumping inside you. making sure you will take it all and stays inside you. your cunt throbbing around him while he pumps you full of seed.

toji growls seeing your post-fucked out face. glowing so ethereal that he feels guilty leaving you alone in this home you created for him. a safe haven for a man like him.

"i love you, toji." you said. grabbing his face and pulling him closer to you. kissing his lips with such tenderness and toji returns it with such want and neediness.

"i love you too." kissing your nose and you giggle. the sound of your laughter making his cock hardening again and your cunt clenching. toji moves your thighs, placing it beside his torso and he's into it again.

worshipping his blessing who have taken in the shape of you.

[stuckysbike]

Drabble, written on my phone.

Mob!Bucky x reader

Warnings: fluff fluff and fluff.

A/N: I have been struggling so bad lately with mental health, writing has been pushed way down my list but this just came to me today so I tried to do my best as a gift for a friend.

I Love You

You weren’t sure what woke you, but you could hear a voice.

Whispering really.

The other side of the bed was cool, and you tried to shift without making a sound. It only took moments to spot your husband standing next to the floor to ceiling windows.

It was dark, only the city lights gave illumination, but you could make out his outline. He wore soft black shorts that hugged his impressive upper thighs and cupped his beautiful ass. His bare body was covered in tattoos, his dog tags and a few rings but nothing else.

You rubbed your cheek into your pillow as you tried to hear what he was saying.

Words like “baby”, “sweetheart”, and “doll” were whispered in between promises of a lifetime of love and protection. Your heart clenched and you bit your lip, moving your head slightly to listen with both ears.

You heard a faint murmur, and then, “shush, be quiet or we’ll wake her,” he said lowly.

“Where was I, ah yes, you are the love of my life baby, and I don’t think I could ever go a day without holding you in my arms. I’d burn the city down for you my love.”

You eased the covers up higher, your fingers twisting into the soft sheets. You were cold but you didn’t want to disturb Bucky, your need to listen was like a drug you couldn’t go without.

“I know what you’re thinking baby, I love her too, but you’re so special, you’re my heart and my soul and she’s gonna’ needta’ learn to share me,” Bucky said, his voice raw, that Brooklyn accent coming out thick.

His sweet words and promises reminded you of your early days with him when your love was young and new; of the moments when he proposed and as you exchanged vows, both in private and in front of your friends and family.

You knew what it felt like to be loved and treasured by him, your heart was once so full of him. And now, here you were, a decade after meeting him, six years married and he was declaring his love to someone else, and in your bedroom no less whilst you lay a few feet away in the bed you both shared passionate embraces and raw feral desires.

“You know,” you huffed softly as you eased your feet out of bed and padded across the room to them, “I’m right here. I heard every word of that.”

“Shit!” Bucky’s eyes were wide as he turned to you. “We’ve been caught.”

There in his thick tattooed arms was the girl he’d been giving his affections to. His muscles bulged as they curled around her tiny body possessively and you knew there was no place safer than right there against his strong chest with his heartbeat thudding in her ear.

For a moment you appreciated the contrast of his tattooed skin against her unmarked chubby rolls, and you fell in love with them both all over again.

“You’re spoiling her you know,” you said reaching out and touching her tiny foot that hung over his arm. Her skin was soft and you couldn’t resist kissing her toes.

“She’s worth the spoiling,” Bucky’s eyes were warm, the corners crinkled as he looked at her, “and besides I’ve only just met her. You kept her to yourself for almost ten months, it’s my turn.”

You giggled at the sight of his petulant pout, he was probably the most dangerous man in the city he ruled with an iron fist but here he was not wanting to put his newborn baby daughter down. “Come to bed.”

“Only if I can bring my new girl with me,” Bucky teased. You giggled and shook your head but you took his hand pulling him behind you.

Soft whimpers reached your ears and you glanced back at Bucky. “I think she’s hungry.”

“Come here,” he said as he sat on the bed. You nestled between his legs and leaned into his body as you got comfortable and snuggled your baby in your arms.

“Now this is my happy place,” Bucky whispered kissing your neck and wrapping his arm around yours as you nursed your baby daughter.

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic march 25 - eyeliner - 2341 words

<33 of losing babies and chance meetings in hawaii

Regulus rubs at his eyes, smudging the remains of eyeliner from the previous evening probably only more.

It’s been a wild night out given that Regulus found himself the only one out of his friend group appearing down for breakfast at the hotel’s buffet. He went for a classic hangover comfort food, coffee with beans and toast and while he longed for the sausages and eggs and fruit and frozen joghurt Regulus isn’t fool enough to think he would have been able to keep all of that down.

Sleep is already tugging at the corners of his mind again when he presses the elevator button to bring him back up to his hotel room to doze away another few more hours. There’s a nice breeze coming in from the double doors leading out to the pool and Regulus leans against the cooling marble of the wall, eyes closed, soaking it all in.

It’s been Pandora’s idea, to get the five of them out for a few days over easter, away from home. From work and family—not that the latter was much of Regulus’ concern—and Regulus must admit that this one is definitely one of her better experiments.

The elevator doors ding and Regulus blinks open his eyes and steps forward only to come to an immediate halt because— 

Because there’s a baby in the lift.

Just– all by itself.

Sitting in its buggy. Completely at ease.

Alone.

No like…parent or guardian inside.

What appears to be a small boy with the wildest sort of curly, black hair Regulus has ever seen sits in his seat, one spiderman sock barely hanging onto his toes, chewing away on a toy in his lap and gazing with big, intensely green eyes up at Regulus.

“Uh, hi there, baby,” Regulus says. He sets a foot onto the threshold to keep the doors open and bends down, “Where’s your family, buddy?”

The kid suddenly throws his little body back into the padding of his buggy with a blinding grin and a screech of what Regulus assumes to be ecstatic elation, “Pafoo!”

“Bless you, mate,” Regulus replies politely.

The little boy reaches his hands out to Regulus, “Out!”

And, well, the little bugger might be onto something here because as of right now Regulus must look like a right nutter talking to the inside of an elevator and if the little one’s parents are going to try and find him they’ll probably start at the elevator areas on each floor.

So Regulus gets the small kid out of the elevator and wheels him over to where a set of dark leather sofas and armchairs are gathered opposite the elevator doors.

When Regulus sits down across from the little boy he giggles, happy as ever, as if nothing was amiss.

Well, at least the one time Regulus finds a lost baby it’s a happy one. Lucky draw, he thinks.

The boy is back to chewing on the little rubber ring again and Regulus eyes him curiously, chin propped on his fist. The boy’s skin is a warm brown, similar to Evan’s and Pandora’s and there’s a faint layer of freckles dotting his nose—just like it will happen to Regulus after a few more days out under the Hawaiian sunshine. There’s a small patch of drool on his yellow shirt but he looks clean otherwise. 

After another moment of inner contemplation Regulus finally reaches out and tugs the sock back into place. 

The boy snickers, wiggling his foot and Regulus finds his lips tugging at the corners.

“Pafoo, out!” the boy repeats again.

Regulus frowns, “Yeah, mate, I already got us off the elevator.”

The little boy keeps squirming in his seat.

“Oh,” Regulus makes when it dawns on him, “Oh, out. Er– yes, sure, hold on.”

He scoots forward on the leather to inspect the little belt trapping the boy in his seat. Eventually Regulus finds the lock, figures out the mechanism and untangles the boy from his buggy. Before he has the chance to freeze and wonder if the boy is even old enough to be able to walk yet there are small, chubby arms reaching out to him and tangling around his neck.

“Oh, okay,” Regulus blinks, feeling his tiny body warm where it’s pressed into his chest, “Um, okay, I’m– okay, uh. Hi.”

The boy pulls back from the crook of Regulus’ neck, smiling brightly. “Hi,” he replies, sweet as sugar and waving a hand at him. Regulus’ heart does not melt.

Regulus’ eyes however clock the small bracelet on the boy’s wrist, donned with little letters spelling out the name Harry.

“Harry, huh?” he asks. “My name is Regulus.”

Harry makes another one of his loud, elated noises, “Pafoo!”

“Nah, mate, Re-gu-lus.”

“Pafoo,” Harry grins.

“Fine,” Regulus sniffs, “I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from a one or two year old.”

Harry giggles again, nose scrunching adorably and hiccuping little laughs into Regulus’ shoulder. 

If Regulus had ovaries he’s pretty sure they would be actively doing something right now which– is decidedly a disturbing thought to have. In a manner of trying to distract himself Regulus looks around, gaze landing on the socks once more.

“So what’s your favourite Spiderman movie, Harry?”

“Spidey!”

“Yes, which one?”

“Pafoo.”

“Mine’s probably the one with Andrew Garfield.”

“Mo!” Harry yells suddenly, pointing back at his buggy.

“Mo?” Regulus asks, confused.

“Mo,” Harry makes again, knocking his tiny, loosely curled fists against each other.

That’s when the clarity washes over Regulus, lips dropping open with a silent oh of understanding. It’s sign language for more. 

He’s seen young parents teach their babies sign language for easier communication and with Dorcas being hard of hearing Regulus and his friends obviously have taken on learning a whole lot as well. The basics are as easy for Regulus as English and French are by now.

“More of what?” Regulus asks, doing the according signs.

“Tea!” Harry responds, smiling brightly, clearly happy with being understood.

Regulus kicks at the buggy to turn it and then fishes a sippy cup out of the holder next to the handles.

Harry slurps away at his cold tea content and does the little gulp ahh thing small kids do when they exhale once they’re done drinking. 

Regulus does not think about adopting a baby.

“Harry!” someone calls from the end of the hall suddenly and may the gods stand by because the person running over is undoubtedly the most handsome man Regulus has ever seen.

The small boy in Regulus arms is literally a carbon copy what with the wild, black hair, the dark skin and the bright smile.

“Dada!” Harry yells, as if it wasn’t clear as day that they share the same DNA.

Regulus’ hands start sweating where they’re still around Harry’s now wiggling body, watching the young man rush over.

“Oh, god, thank you thank you,” the stranger chants, carefully lifting Harry out of Regulus’ hands, “Hi, baby, hi. Daddy’s here. Oh, holy fuck.”

Regulus snorts a little at the crude language but, alas, Harry is probably too young to remember anyways. 

He gives them their little moment of embracing, fighting against the restless squirming in his stomach, the thing scratching at the inside of his walls demanding to find out everything about the cute boy’s father.

Once the young father has got enough squeeze time and Harry starts trying to wiggle free, he lets out another string of curses, this time Spanish, and Regulus barely refrains from whimpering.

He has to trap another one behind his teeth when the man finally, actually glances at him, relief clear on his features, laughing breathlessly and chocolate brown eyes glinting happily and with ebbing nerves.

“Thank you, I’m–” the handsome stranger blinks a little, mouth working uselessly before he slips back into a lopsided grin, “Hi, I’m James, you- wow, hello, uh– thank you, um, for Harry. I’m so glad he’s okay, I’m James– by the way. And you are? Aside from my gorgeous knight in shining armour.”

Regulus cocks a brow, hands on his naked hips right above the elastic of his short running pants and below his cropped, black shirt with pink letters saying those are bold words for someone in stabbing range. It was a Christmas present from his friends and the first thing he saw after rolling out of bed with a hangover this morning, sue him.

“No problem, he’s a little sunshine,” Regulus replies, gazing at Harry where he’s fiddling with James’ necklace, “I’m Regulus.”

“Wait,” James says, jaw dropping, “Your name is—”

“James!” it comes from the other side of the hall, followed by another rush of footsteps and Regulus turns to see two more men jogging over to them. One of them being—

“Jesus, fuck, I’m so glad you found him,” Sirius says, eyes fixated on James and Harry.

Sirius, as in, Regulus’ older brother Sirius.

Sirius, as in, Regulus’ older brother that he hasn’t seen in four years.

Sirius with his long-ish hair falling down to his armpits now in long, soft curls. Sirius with his arms full of tattoos and wearing red bootie shorts and having pierced nipples and Sirius with pink cheeks and a relieved look on his face and Sirius having his fingers interlaced with another man’s.

Sirius blowing out another breath as he strokes the little boy’s cheek carefully, “Where’d you find h—”

Sirius that swivels and looks right at Regulus standing dumbfounded in a random hotel lobby on fucking Hawaii.

“Regulus.”

“Sirius.”

“I– what are you doing here?”

Regulus narrows his eyes, “I found Harry.”

“You what?”

“Are you deaf?” Regulus shoots back, “I found your friend’s baby.”

Sirius’ mouth drops open, “Excuse me, that is my godson.”

Regulus slips into a frown, suddenly and stupidly feeling a bit possessive over the little kid that is clearly taken with him but apparently supposed to be his older brother’s godson. 

He sniffs, crossing his arms, “Well, you’re clearly not doing your job well seeing as you’ve lost him. Also he called me his Pafoo.”

Regulus expects Sirius to volley back another insult, a counter-argument or something of the likes but instead he lets the loudest, most dramatic gasp rip from his throat.

“Oh God,” James mumbles, blanching but failing to keep his lips from twitching.

The man next to Sirius looks just as conflicted, instantly cooing into Sirius’ ear soothingly and rubbing his shoulder as this one whimpers like a wounded dog.

“What?” Regulus asks, looking at James.

The handsome father winces with a badly concealed grin before he ducks close, murmuring, “It’s Padfoot. That’s what we call Sirius, it’s sorta his nickname.”

Regulus can’t help it, the gleeful laugh bubbles right out of him. He could kiss little Harry right now.

“No!” Sirius wails, letting himself fall back into the lanky, taller man’s arms. “Betrayal!”

“Come now, Pads, he’s 18 months old,” the third man says soothingly.

“Remus is right,” James concurs, “Harry doesn’t even know my mum from our neighbour most times.”

“Effie doesn’t live with you,” Sirius cries out.

Regulus thinks there might actually be tears forming in his eyes.

“And neither do you,” James says pointedly, “You’re across the hall and you work full time, might I remind you. You’re over maybe four times a week.”

“Five! At least!”

“Sirius, darling, please stop yelling,” Remus mutters, glancing at a passing old couple with a wobbly smile.

Regulus grins, “No, please keep going, this is the highlight of my vacation so far.”

There’s a poke in his naked side and when Regulus looks over James is giving him a playful scolding glare.

Regulus digs his teeth into his lower lip, voice purposefully innocent, “What?”

“Don’t be a tease,” James chides but it sorta loses the edge with how wide he’s smiling.

“Or else?” Regulus counters.

James hums, giving Regulus a once over before clearing his throat, looking back at his friend, “Here, Moons, can you take Harry for a second?”

Sirius makes an affronted noise, looking downright stricken and he quickly takes Remus’ outstretched hands, pulling, what is presumably his boyfriend, out of reach for James. “Two Potters in one day!? Prongs, are you trying to kill me?”

James sighs, pulling Harry back against his hip which then decides to reach out his hands to Sirius, “Pafoo.”

“That’s right,” Sirius sniffs, crossing the distance and ripping Harry from James’ hold, “I love you, little stinker. You’ll get it with time, I know you will. You’re such a smart boy, Hazza.”

Harry immediately starts playing with the thin braids in Sirius’ hair and his brother swivels to level Regulus with a triumphant smirk.

“Whatever,” Regulus says, crossing his arms again.

But before jealousy, no matter over whom, can spread itself in Regulus’ chest, Sirius is stepping closer.

Regulus is certain their flip flops nearly touch and Sirius is staring at him intensely with the same eyes he sees in the mirror every day, and it makes him swallow. The freckle over Sirius’ mouth is just the same as four years ago, as is the one on Regulus’ temple. 

“There’s a baby swimming lesson at the pool I wanted to attend with Harry later at 2,” Sirius says, voice husky, “Care to join?”

Regulus was supposed to meet the others back in Barty and Evan’s room at 3 but they’re probably passed out until then anyways. “I think I can make some time,” he replies airily.

Sirius blows out a heavy breath through his nose, before slipping into a grin, “Good.”

“Good,” Regulus mimics.

“I bet Harry floats better than you,” Sirius taunts, “Do you still sink like a stone?”

“It’s amazing how much of a talent you still possess for making me regret things,” Regulus snips back.

Sirius bumps their shoulder together, making Harry giggle and Regulus purses his lips in an effort to hide his smile.

And then James is there on the other side of him, taking Harry back from Sirius and smiling sweetly down at Regulus and for some reason his cheeks feel a little warmer suddenly.

—

[also for personal reasons i need everyone to know these were the booty shorts sirius was wearing]

[bk-4-trash-fire]

More giant creator for the win

(chubby giant???? Yes please)

Anyways....

Traveling with the loving bard was a challenge.

A challenge you were losing.

Having a clingy bird wasn't even the worst of the trip

It was when said bird had to do things without you

Normally venti will straight up refuse to do anything without you

Biting onto your hand whenever you try to get him off you

Lil shit won't come off.

Making your way to liyue wasn't the best but it could've been worse...

Wasn't helping that being a giant hurts you ability to move freely..

What seemed to be miles of wide open space looks like a narrow hallway..

And while you were trying to unstuck your ass from the wall

Venti was sleeping on your shoulder

I swear to-

Ok we made it..

Wait.

Liyue is more narrow than mondstadt

Shiiiiiii-

Ok then it's gonna be like twister but lives are at risk...

Yeah no let's not

Better stay near the port

And by near you mean in the waters

Your arrival wasn't unseen

Zhongli was jumping for joy in his head the moment he saw you

So great you now have two old archons clinging to you like their life dependent on it

You were locked out of the main city due to you know....

Your size...

You did try but it led to you having to stay on your toes and pray you don't lose your balance

But on the bright side you got to play with the others near the docks

Having talks and giant riding sessions for the kids or just having tea and snacks

Speaking of which food was also a problem...

Your little acolytes thought the best idea was to make you a dish for your size

But no animal would be big enough to be used as a replacement for the main ingredient

Instead you swam in the sea before diving in and fishing out a whale

Was it cool to see? Yes.

Was it just as scary? Yes.

Sleeping became three times more unbearable

Because you now have

A clingy bird

A very loud purring dragon

And a yaksha who has....alot of issues..

Man hopefully this can't get worse right??

As promised the continueation I of the giant creator series

Just a heads up it's going to be taking longer to get chapters and one shots due to work and grades

So I hope y'all can understand that I'm trying my best to get these out as quickly as I can

Have a great day (or night as I'm writing this)

[lasciviouspoison]

had to write this concept before i forgot it, lol. tw: toji! x chubby!reader, reader is mentioned to be bratty and submissive, use of pet names (mama, sugar, baby), breeding!, reader being cock drunk and toji is pussy drunk like a mf. per usual, i write with black women/woc in mind but all are welcome to read and enjoy. love ya!

toji fucks his pretty chubby bunny like there’s no tomorrow every. single. time.

now of course it took the two of you a bit of time to get comfortable with each other. and by the two of you, i mean you. at first, you were apprehensive to toji seeing you in a bra, much less completely nude!

but after a couple of months, the two of you grew to love each other and your guard completely crumbled to the ground. finally allowing toji to see you, whenever he wanted, however he wanted.

hence why now, it doesn’t matter the occasion, time, or place, when he can fuck you. but just how many times he can get u to cum before he does.

and right now, in your shared candle lit bedroom, he’s at a record number of three…

“jesus fucking christ baby, love it when you lemme fuck ya like this” toji says in between thrusts. there’s sweat beading at his hair line, causing his raven black hair to dampen ever so slightly.

mindless babbles and cries leave your lips as a response, causing him to chuckle and stroke you at a painfully slow pace.

“c’mon baby, talk ta me. lemme know how good i make ya feel.” he’s in your ear, but it feels like his voice is traveling all over you. at this point, you’re so delirious, it feels like he’s talking from inside your head.

“toji y’feel s’good. wanna do this f’rever” you say with a heavy tongue, glossy lips, and tears streaming down your face. if you’d have seen yourself right now, you would’ve ran away from him, but toji can only think to himself how beautiful you look right now.

beautiful hair splayed over the pillows in such a perfect way. your sleepy eyes looking up through those beautiful eye lashes. the perfect nose and full lips. silver jewelry all tangled from the movements, but he doesn’t care. how could he care when your body, that perfect and pliant body, is on display for him? so soft and pretty. smelling of vanilla, you’re like his own piece of heaven. one that he gets to build up and tear down each time you let him.

it’s why each time you let him fuck, he does it like he wants to put you through the mattress.

“forever huh? maybe you should quit that stupid job like i told ya. stay at home and sit pretty for me while i take care of ya. would ya like that mama? tell me sugar.” he’s baiting you, but you’re too cock drunk to care.

“yessss! yesyesyesyes! i’ll quit, i’ll do wha’ever toji jus please don’t stop” your eyes are crossing and your toes are curling. it’s quite shocking how toji can turn such a bratty girl like you into such a submissive and mailable mess.

but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“‘kay baby. i won’t stop. not gonna till i fill ‘er up. make ya a mama. oh! yer lil pussy must reallyyy like that idea, she tightened up on me, hehe” he says. but his strokes are getting sloppier by the second, so you know he’s close too.

without a second thought, toji sticks his thumb in your mouth and you automatically suck on it. he pulls it out with a ‘pop’ and rubs tiny circles on your clit. it makes your legs shake while you attempt to close them despite toji’s body being in the way.

he grabs your face with his other hand and kisses you deeply, tongue swiping over your bottom lip before entering your mouth. at this point, the two of you are moaning and whining into each others mouths like some horny teens.

it’s amazing how your neighbors haven’t complained about the noise yet.

toji removes his mouth from yours and buries his head in your neck, “gonna cum baby. want it inside?” his voice is gravely and his thrusts are getting harder by the second.

“yes toji! wan’ it inside me!” you manage to whine out.

didn’t have to tell him twice, “okay baby, g’nna give it to ya- ah- fuck! there ya go baby. there ya fuckin go. take it all”. he’s cumming so hard that his jaw locked, forcing him to talk through his teeth. his hands pry your legs open as far as they can go, trying to savor as much of you as he can before the sensitivity kills him.

you can feel the warmth from his cum shoot deep into you, which triggers your fourth orgasm of the night. the two of you are mindlessly grinding against each other while riding out your highs. toji making note to not drop his full weight onto you, but hold you close, which results in you being elevated slightly off the bed.

soon after, you can feel toji set you down gently and lay on top of you. hes stroking your hair and wiping your tears away until he hears you let out a loud breath.

“ya back with me mama?” voice laced with concern.

“m’okay now toji.” you say with a slightly shakey voice. your hand comes up to brush some of his hair out from in front of his eyes.

toji sits back on his knees, still inside you, and examines your face and upper body for any signs of him being too rough.

“was scared i hurt ya. i know i can get a lil too rough at times” he says while rubbing your boobs gently.

you let out a small laugh and adjust yourself on the bed, causing your hips to move back slightly on toji’s dick. he tries not to hiss at the feeling but his brain has turned to mush again and now all he can think about is how good you smell. “you’re never too rough toji. i’d tell you if you were”. you say with such a sweet and gentle smile, meanwhile toji feels like a fucking rabid animal.

and suddenly, he’s laying on top of you again, kissing and sucking on your neck. his hands have moved back down to your thighs where they’ve begun to push your legs back.

his head knocks into your jaw and he licks the side of your mouth. his body is burning hot and he’s running low on stamina, but he can’t help himself.

“good. cause m’still hard”.