#luckily daddy word knew what i was getting at

[homoerotisch]

fighting for my life trying to spell "exacerbate"

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

[rainylana]

“Touch me.”

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie urges you to communicate your sexual feelings for him.

warnings/tags: 18+ smut, spanking, fingering, hair pulling, decrophylia, reader is bad at communicating feelings, somewhat shy reader, reader is afraid of annoying eddie about sex, daddy kink, use of sir, sixth month relationship, reader wants to be hurt by eddie, thumb sucking, basically a fic about my first few times having sex lmao, pain play, all consensual, some angst if you squint, language. let me know if i missed anything!

Eddie knew when there was something on your mind. He could feel your eyes staring into the side of his face, the way you shifted almost anxiously. The relationship was still somewhat new. You’d only been dating for six months, but still, he wanted you to be comfortable enough to ask for what you wanted. Which he knew what it was. Your hand would slip onto his thigh, rub it casually before disappearing back to your lap. Your head would muzzle against his shoulder, kissing his clothed skin before retreating back to your spot on the couch.

Eddie knew you had your battles with things. Sex did not come easy to you at times, nor did communicating about it. But you needed to use your words with him, otherwise neither of you would get anywhere.

It had been almost two hours into the film you were watching. It was late and he was growing tired, moderately buzzed from drinking. The living room was dark and glowing from the staticy light of the television.

“Eddie?” You finally asked, meekly.

“Hmm?” He hummed, arms crossed as his eyes barely blinked from sleep.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You know you can.”

It was quiet again for several seconds. He looked over to find you biting your nails. “What is it?” He sat up slightly.

You laughed almost awkwardly, shaking your head with a deep blush. “I’m…are you tired?”

He smirked just barely. “Yes.” But he was never too tired for sex. “Was that what you wanted to ask me?”

“No.” You shuffled your feet on the floor. “Do you…do you want to have sex?”

He couldn’t help but laugh, looking over at you with curious brown eyes. “I always want to have sex.”

You laughed too, a heavy one that was marinated in relieve. He didn’t reject you. You were always so afraid of that. You were so afraid of bothering him, getting on his nerves. Eddie had taken your virginity, and you weren’t that skilled when it came to sex. You didn’t know what to do at most times, but luckily Eddie knew what he was doing. Still, it made you feel foolish. You just wanted him to be happy, but you were just so damn touch starved all the time.

You always wanted him, but terrified he didn’t want you back. That it would be a sexual burden for sleeping with you.

Eddie cupped your cheek, bringing you into his side so he could hug you. “Tell me what’s on your mind, baby.”

He was so good to you, there was no reason to be fearful of him. You sighed heavily into him, nuzzling your body against his. “I’m just nervous. I don’t want to annoy you.”

“You think sex annoys me?”

“I just don’t want to seem needy or overbearing.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not, babe?” He looked down at you, lifting your chin with his index finger. “You don’t annoy me. You don’t overwhelm me. You worry me sometimes, because you’re always in your head thinking. I need you to communicate with me. That’s all I ask.”

Your eyes had teared up and you nodded, too emotional to speak.

He caught a tear with his finger. “I can’t always assume what you want. I need you to tell me what it is, baby. Tell me what you want.”

His mouth was dangerously close to yours, hovering, testing the waters, waiting for you to tell him exactly what you wanted him to do to you.

“I want you to fuck me.” Your voice is barely over a whisper. “Hard. Don’t be nice to me.”

He smirks just slightly. Your requests were just about as freaky as the things he imagined in his head. “Don’t be nice, huh?” He cocked a brow, dragging his thumb along your jawline. “What do you say?”

“Please.” You closed your eyes in a beg, already wet and throbbing for him. “Please, daddy.”

He pushes his thumb between your lips, passing your teeth and hitting the back of your throat. You suck it immediately, nibbling on his skin just barely. His jaw fall slack at the sting, chin raised in a dominant glare as he watches you. “Do you want me to hurt you?” He asks for you, knowing damn well that it’s what you want.

You’re blushing around his finger, popping him out of your mouth as you nod. “Does it make you uncomfortable?” You ask nervously. You were always afraid to communicate your sexual desires with him, too scared that it might frighten him away.

He can’t roll his eyes or laugh, he knows how delicate the topic is for you. “No, y/n.” He cups your cheek. “It doesn’t as long as it’s what you want. You’re still new to this. You need to go at your own pace. Just be yourself and I’ll guide you.”

You place your mouth on his, rising up so you can climb on his lap. Your hot against him, warm and throbbing. He can feel it. “Then hurt me.” You whimper, emotions building up in your chest, emotions you can never quite understand.

He kisses your neck, hot and sweaty kisses trailing down your skin, his teeth nibbling at your sensitive pale skin. His hands move down to your ass, quickly yanking down your shorts to grab you with thick hands. “You know your safe word. Use it when you need to. Don’t worry about me.”

Your heart begins to bang in your chest, hitting you with nerves and adrenaline, but you nod. You nod because it’s what you want and he knows how to give it to you. There’s no other person that can give you relief like the does.

“Stay still.” Your over his lap now, grabbing at the couch in front of you as he adjusts you to where he needs you, plump ass in the air and ready for him to do with what he wants.

“Yes, sir.” Your face is beet red, cheek pressed against your arm. You close your eyes, ready for what’s to come.

Your crying soon after he starts, whimpering and moaning as he spanks you, alternating cheek to cheek in a steady rhythm that has your legs twitching out from the uncomfortable burn. You move down to grab at his ankle, your cunt throbbing around nothing so painfully.

Eddie’s cock is hard, straining against his jeans as he cracks down his hand, leaving red marks on your skin that’ll surely leave a bruise. His panting, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck as he continues to spank you.

You lift your hips to meet his hand, begging for more and more of this punishment, if that’s what it was. Your choking on your tears, sputtering out a sob. “Ow!” You whimper.

He looks at you, but doesn’t stop. He knows you’ll stop him when you’ve had enough. You always do. Your ass is on fire and so is your pussy, leaking down your leg as you sputter out cries. “Touch me.” You beg, broken by your cries.

He stops as soon as you say the word, knowing you’ve had enough, and dips his fingers into your sopping wet cunt. “Did that feel good baby? You like it when daddy spanks you?”

You moan out loud, hot and pornographic at the feeling of his fingers. You can’t say anything only muttering a jarbled mhm. He doesn’t correct you for it, smirking as he fingers you quickly.

“Do you still want me to fuck you?” He lays his other hand on your head to stroke your hair, the other continuing to finger you. “Or do you want me to touch you like this?”

You surprise both him and yourself, climbing off his lap to attack his lips. He’s pushed to the back of the couch, limbs tangling together in a heap as you make love to his lips. “Fuck me, mean, Eddie.”

He groans into your mouth, hurriedly letting go of you to unbuckle his belt and free his long cock. He’s bending you over the couch, lifting your legs to hang off of the back so he can reach your hole. He teases you a lot about your height difference.

He moans when he pushes into your pussy and you sob out in relief, laying your hands on the couch to keep you from falling off. Your tits are bouncing underneath you, the sound of skin slapping together as he starts to fuck you.

He’s not nice about it, just as you asked. He’s hard and rough, fucking you mean and abusing your g-spot with heavy, deep thrusts that have you spewing out desperate cries.

“Oh, god!” You struggle to keep upright, your hands slipping from their position. “Fuck me, fuck, fuck me!”

He slaps a hand down on your red ass that makes you screech, recoiling back to his hips for more. He grabs a fist full of your hair, yanking you back up to him so your back is flush with his chest. “Is this mean enough? Should I let you cum? That’s mean, isn’t it?”

He fucks up into you sharply. “Huh? Tell me, angel.”

You’re begging to come, promising you’ll be good and you’ll obey him. He’s got you bent back over, grabbing your hips to thrust into you deeply, so harshly that you can barely form a coherent sentence. He bottoms out while he cums, shooting his load into you as you clamp down on his cock.

[topgun-imagines]

His Little Girl

Requested: No

Summary: You knew that Jake would be the best father to your baby girl. He didn't hesitate to prove it.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Pregnancy, hospitals, & mentions of blood.

Pairings: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x wife!reader

Jake Seresin was an amazing father. You thought that this would be the case, but the past few days were nothing but proof. Your entire pregnancy, Jake had been right there by your side. With every craving, every bout of morning sickness, every time you needed to feel the weight of your growing baby lifted from your shoulders, Jake was there. The whole nine months, all the way to your labour, he was the perfect husband. Not once during your 22-hour labour did he leave your side. 

Regardless of his caring tendencies during your pregnancy, somehow, Jake was even more caring the second your baby girl was born. Around 4:30 in the morning, Aimee Rose Seresin was born, weighing 6 pounds 7 ounces and perfectly healthy. You and your husband couldn’t have been more happy. Early that morning, for only the third time since you had met Jake, you saw tears filling your husband's eyes. 

When the nurses took out your little girl to do blood tests, Jake immediately ran down to get you something to eat. Jake arrived only seconds before the nurses did. He helped to prop you up and sort out your meal before Aimee was passed over to him. You watched with unlimited adoration as your little girl snuggled into his bare chest. You finished what you could have easily considered the best meal of your life before relaxing back onto your pillows. Within seconds, your eyes were slipping shut and you were drifting off into a peaceful sleep. 

You woke up a few hours later to the same sight of your baby girl asleep on her daddy’s chest. A soft smile grew on your face at the sight of your sleeping husband. Luckily, Jake had set your phone beside you before Aimee was handed to him. You snapped a quick picture and set it as your lock screen. You had never been more in love than you were now. 

Mere seconds later, the nurse walked in to check up on you. Your husband woke up slowly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “How are you doing, dear?” The sweet elderly nurse questioned as she reviewed your vitals. After only a few minutes, you were left alone again with your family. 

Your husband was standing now, walking toward you while rocking your little girl softly. Not only did Jake hold your little girl like she was the most precious thing in the world, he looked at you as if you hung the moon and the stars. In that moment, you could easily see how much he loved you. His eyes held untamed adoration as he set your little girl on your chest. 

“I love you so, so much, honey.” He whispered to you gently as he leaned down. A chaste kiss was placed on your forehead. 

The soft moment between the two of you was often one that you returned to when Aimee woke up crying in the middle of the night. However, even in those times of frustration, you knew that your husband was beside you every step of the way. 

Thankfully, you only had to stay in the hospital a few days longer before you were allowed to go home. Those few days flew by in a breeze, Jake being a large help through the whole process. You knew the history that Jake had with his father, so you were more than proud of the fact that he was already such an amazing father. The fact made you smile softly, watching your husband love on your little girl once more. 

Unsurprisingly, the ‘hot dad walk’ that you had been looking forward to since you found out you were pregnant did not disappoint, far exceeding any expectations you could have had. The sight of Jake carrying your baby girl out in her car seat had you swooning for your husband all over again. You waddled behind him slowly, happy to watch him walk away. When you finally arrived at the car, Jake made sure to let you know that he knew exactly what you had been staring at the whole time. Your cheeks were rosy the entire ride home. You sat in the back seat with Aimee, watching her sleep soundly as Jake made the slow drive home. 

Every few minutes, Jake would check on the two of you. “How are my girls doin’?” he questioned, not taking his eyes off the road. Another smile lit up your face as her tiny hand wrapped around one of your fingers. 

“We’re doing perfect Jake. She’s perfect.” There was nothing but pure awe on your face. In that moment, Jake thought the same about you. You were the light of his life; absolutely perfect just the way you were. He chose not to say anything, smiling softly at the thought of his new family. 

A few minutes later, Jake was pulling into the driveway of your home. He hopped out and pulled your door open, helping you out before he grabbed your baby girl’s car seat. She was passed over to you as Jake collected the rest of your belongings from the back seat. 

You sucked in a soft breath, grasping your husband's hand as you brought your baby girl into the house for the first time. Aimee slept soundly in her car seat, unaware of the happiness building in your chest. Your family was home. 

Together, you and Jake brought her up to the cozy nursery. Jake had spent weeks putting it together, dragging Bradley and Bob in at various times to help him assemble the furniture. The sight of three large aviators bent over pieces of a crib in a pretty pink room made you giggle more than once. As Jake emptied the contents of the hospital bag onto the changing table, you set Aimee softly in her crib. One of the tips that the nurses gave you was that when the baby was sleeping, you should be sleeping. After the exhausting few days you’d had, you certainly weren’t one to disagree. 

Seeing that Aimee was peacefully asleep in her crib, you and Jake grabbed the baby monitor and headed down the hall toward your room. Your husband pushed the door open for you, chuckling quietly as you flopped onto the bed. You offered him a tired grin. 

Mirroring your smile, Jake set the monitor on the dresser and walked toward the bed. “Hey there, pretty girl,” There was a loving look in his eyes as he climbed onto the bed beside you. His fingers began to trace delicate patterns into the soft skin of your stomach. “How’s my beautiful wife doing?” 

Offering him another smile as your eyes fluttered closed. “I’m doing amazing Jake,” You whispered, “Thank you so much.” You squeezed his hand softly. Even though you didn’t directly say it, Jake knew exactly what you were thanking him for. You may have not been able to see it with your eyes closed, but the smile on his face showed exactly how much he loved you. He didn’t have to respond; you knew he would do anything for his girls. 

A/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open! I’ll start tagging people again once I start writing more <3

[eternally-racing]

baby steps | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x wife!reader (plus their adorable lil kiddo) 

genre: fluff

warnings: none 

word count: 2.5k

summary: Lando needs a little bit of encouragement to head off to his first race after the birth of your daughter, so what better thing to do than surprise him on race day?

note: this fic can be read as a stand alone or as part of the racer girl series !

---

When you first showed Lando the two lines on your positive pregnancy test, your entire world had changed. It felt like such a whirlwind of excitement, and before you knew it you were 9 months pregnant watching Lando’s races on television. It was pure luck that your water only broke the day after the season ended, which meant that Lando had a cherished couple of months with your baby girl, Piper, before heading back to racing. 

The two of them had become quite the dynamic duo in your household. From the moment that Lando first looked at your daughter, he knew that he was in love. He was an amazing father and you told him exactly that at every moment you could. It was one of the biggest fears that Lando had, being an absent father or not knowing what to do. Before you met Lando he was fully in his bachelor lifestyle, not once even thinking of kids, but now he was the biggest girl dad you’ve ever seen, giving into your daughter’s every whim. It’s exactly why Lando says he wants to give up racing all together once he sees your daughter cry for the first time when he leaves to go to the MTC for the first time since she was born - he would do anything for Piper, he would give up everything he loved if it meant that his little girl would be happy. Luckily, he had you to keep him grounded, and after more than a couple of tearful conversations you had helped Lando make peace with continuing on with his career with you and your daughter there to support him in the background. This was the first week that this was truly going to be tested though, since it was finally time for him to fly to Bahrain. 

“Say goodbye to daddy!” you say as you pick up your daughter’s hand to make her wave. 

You can see the way the wheels are turning in Lando’s head as he stays frozen in the entryway. He’s not forgetting anything, there’s no way he could with your packing lists that he’s used for every single race since you started dating. Even if he did forget something, he knows he could easily get someone from the team to either shop for him or send it over.

“Y/N I - , I don’t know anymore about this,” Lando mutters with his grip on the door handle loosening. 

“Lan, cmon now, I can’t have two babies in this house at once.” you joke as you pinch his cheek. “But seriously, you’re gonna be okay? Just do your best out there. I’m only a phone call away all the time if you need me. You’re going to be great and we’re cheering you on from here. I’ll send you all the pictures and videos and everything so it’ll feel like you’re still with us.”

While Piper can’t talk yet, she still reaches out to Lando to gently pat his shoulder - which only brings more tears to the forefront of Lando��s eyes. He always said his daughter was smart beyond her years, able to sense things even some adults don’t notice. 

“What if Piper can’t fall asleep without me reading her story? What if she learns how to walk before I’m gone? Or what if she forgets that I even exist?” 

“First off, I have memorized “the Rainbow Fish” perfectly from the 7 different times you taught me it. She’s not going to walk because she’s barely 8 months old. And lastly, she’s not going to forget you Lando, I promise you that. Do you trust me?” 

Lando doesn’t miss a beat when he says “always.” 

You hand your daughter off to Lando’s arms in exchange for the carry on that’s currently in his hands. You know that all he needs to do is hold her, to remember that feeling of being with her so he can keep that memory with him for the week ahead. You’re not the only one who’s noticed the way that Piper always immediately seems to calm down whenever she’s in her dad’s arms. There was something special between the two of them, something so unbreakable - which is exactly what you tell Lando. 

“Plus I think she’s in that phase where she’s starting to like you better, so I could use some alone time with our little bug” you tease as you squish your daughter’s cheeks. When Lando sees you cracking jokes it makes him feel a little more at ease - if you were so comfortable with this then why shouldn’t he be too? With one last hug and kiss, Lando finally walks out the door with a promise to facetime you once he gets to the airport. 

Piper starts crying the second she realizes that her dad is really gone, and honestly you shed a few tears too.

 “Don’t worry Pipes, we’re going to see daddy sooner than you think,” you whisper to your daughter as you try to soothe her. Little did Lando know that you had a bag packed in your bedroom for you and your daughter to surprise him at the paddock on race day.

—

The expectations were low for Lando in Bahrain, both from the media and from himself. He had been very upfront about having different priorities this summer than just racing, so he had been a write-off in so many people’s minds. That’s what made it even sweeter when Lando saw the checkered flag first in Bahrain, marking the very first time he had ever won at the circuit. It’s no secret that Lando had become more sensitive since he had become a dad, but when he says “This one is for my girls, I love you Y/N and Piper” over the radio, it brings tears to everyone’s eyes. 

Lando is already over the moon. He gives a big cheer to the roaring crowd before going to hug the rest of the team. It’s absolutely electric and it really seems like everyone, regardless of whether they are a McLaren fan or not, could appreciate how much this win meant to him. 

But the sweetest moment is when he spots you. You’re a little bit off to the side, a couple of security guards standing around you to make sure that nobody would try and trample over you and Piper. Little Piper is wearing a pair of noise canceling McLaren branded headphones on her ears as she hangs out happily in your arms. It’s like she spots her dad at the same time too, since she starts waving her arms in Lando’s direction. Lando immediately stops everything he’s doing to run over to you two. You have a knowing look in your eye, like you were just waiting for him to finally spot you both. 

“Oh my god, you’re here.”  Lando lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Having you both here makes him finally feel complete, like his heart was finally whole again. 

“There’s no way we were going to miss daddy’s first race of the season. Congratulations, babe” 

Lando has questions of course - how you managed to pull this off without him noticing, whether Piper gave you trouble on the plane, and so much more. For now, though, he just wants to spend time with you two. He almost forgets that he’s at the race entirely, let alone that he won it until a team member comes up behind him to ask him if he’s ready to do his interview 5 minutes from now. 

When Piper reaches over with her little grabby hands for Lando, you of course give into her whims as you pass her over to the sweaty driver. It also gives you a second to pull out your phone and capture the moment for yourself. Piper is playing with the visor on Lando’s helmet, learning a new form of peek a boo that you know that she’s going to want to keep playing when you get home. You’re the one who helps keep Lando on track, giving him one last kiss on his helmet before you tell him to head off towards the hoard of media personnel eagerly awaiting his appearance. When you go to take Piper back from him she refuses to budge, and with both Piper and Lando giving you their classic puppy dog eyes, you know you’re outnumbered. 

“Keep her safe, Lan, okay?” It’s a rhetorical question. You know that Lando wouldn’t let anything happen to her - but it’s still a big crowd, the biggest you’ve ever been since you gave birth, and it’s a little scary to not hold onto her here. 

You don’t think anyone has ever seen Will Buxton this happy as he pulls Lando aside for his post-race interview. 

“I have to say, congratulations on an absolutely brilliant drive from you today, Lando - and would you like to introduce the special guest you’ve brought with you?” Will asks with a grin. 

Lando can’t help the similar smile that is etched on his face as he looks at his little girl. “This is my daughter Piper, and she’s just the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I can’t share enough praise for my beautiful wife Y/N too - words can’t describe how much she means to me.I really wouldn’t be standing here in front of you today without her support.”  Lando looks back at you with a smile and kisses Piper on the cheek to end off his sentence, but Piper seems to be more interested in the texture of the mic than her dad at the moment. 

“What does it mean to you to have this be your first win as a father, Lando?” 

“Oh man, this little girl is everything to me - I just want to do my best on the track so that Piper can look back and always be proud to have me as her dad.” 

The moment is made extra sweet as Piper tosses and turns in Lando’s hold so that she can cling to him like a koala bear, pulling herself further into Lando’s chest. She is starting to like the microphone just as much as Lando, so she pulls her face right onto it before she says her very first word - “dada”.

At first Lando thinks he’s hallucinating - there’s so many people around and there’s so much noise that he can barely hear himself think. But then Piper says it again and he can’t help but start to cry.

“She -, she- called me dada, oh my god I can’t believe it,” Lando’s in pure disbelief as he stares in awe at his little girl and looks back at you watching in the crowd. For a minute he forgets that there’s a full corral of people watching him until he hears a collective “awww” from the crowd.  “Sorry it’s just -, wow, she’s never done that before.” he says sincerely as he wipes the tears from his cheeks.

It’s now Piper’s turn to cry as she gets overwhelmed with all the eyes that are staring at her, pushing the microphone away from her as she buries her head into Lando’s shoulder. She is just a little kid, after all. Lando wraps up the interview as fast as he can, apologizing as he whisks Piper away to try and lift her spirits. 

Luckily it’s time to head into the cooldown room, which proves to be the perfect place for Piper to calm down from her outburst. The antics continue there as Lando bounces Piper on her lap, pointing to the TV screen to show her all the highlights. 

“Look at daddy about to overtake uncle Charles! And there’s uncle Alex, and uncle George...” Lando continues to retell the story of the last two hours as the other two podium sitters, Max and Oscar, chime in intermittently. Sometimes Piper’s gaze falls to Lando’s new hat instead of the screen, but he’s happy to have her in the room with him to share this moment. 

You have to really bargain with Lando to get him to hand Piper back to you so he can head to the podium by himself - it’s only at the rational explanation of not wanting your baby covered in champagne that he finally gives in to reason. Piper loves seeing the celebrations on the podium, adding in some cheers of her own when she sees her dad jumping up and down with joy on the podium. The little girl is addicted to the shine of the Bahrain trophy in the sun and you and Lando both later joke that she likes the piece of metal better than the both of you combined. 

It’s no surprise that Piper falls asleep on the car ride home - you do the same next to her as the jet lag catches up to you both. Piper still keeps one hand firmly on the trophy, having barely let it out of her sight since Lando brought it to her. Lando can’t help but feel so lucky as he looks through the rearview mirror at the both of you. 

It never gets any easier - leaving. The next weekend Lando heads to the United States and Piper cries the whole day once she notices that he’s packing a suitcase. You’re honest with Lando when you tell him that you’ll see him once he gets back, there’s no way you and Piper would be able to handle all the time changes and long haul flights that would come with going to every race.

You still watch every race though, throwing sleep training to the wind as Piper often stays up at all odd hours to watch with you. There are so many moments where you wish that you could be there with Lando, especially with the season he’s having. As the journalists would say, Lando’s “dad powers” have brought him his best ever start to a Formula 1 season, as he has yet to finish outside the top 3 so far. 

“What do you think is going to happen when I don’t come home from a trip with one of those?” Lando jokes as he sees your daughter absolutely enamored with the newest addition to her trophy collection. It’s the Australian GP trophy, which proves to be the perfect vessel for Piper to put her cereal pieces into. The little girl has taken to yelling as her new favorite hobby, and she shows it off every time she squeals with joy when Lando walks through the door after a race.

“I don’t want to find out, so you’ll just have to keep getting podiums, Lan” you joke back as you lean your head onto his shoulder. 

----

author's note: oh man, this has been sitting in my drafts FOREVER as i tried to perfect it but i really wanted to share it with you all. Thanks for all the love - asks are open if you want to say hello or make a request! Until next time! - Em 🤍

[dollfacefantasy]

Kiss It Better

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!bunny-hybrid!reader

summary: on a day planned to be just for just you and leon, he gets called into work. it dredges up some old memories, and upon returning home, he wants to make it better by taking extra care of his baby bunny.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, cockwarming, daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, hurt/comfort, reader copes with her past at the shelter

word count: 6.1k

a/n: yay leon and his baby bunny finally return. i hope this lives up to the first part lol which can be found here. i have another part planned as well if people are interested. as always reblogs and comments mean the world <3

“I could never say no to my sweet baby bunny.”

A statement Leon had said off-hand in the heat of the moment. Something he’d told you as a comfort, a way of warming you up for your first intimate moments together. He hadn’t put much thought into it before it rolled out of his mouth. 

But damn, if only he’d known how true it would prove to be.

The words were ringing through his head right now as you dragged him through the mall on another Saturday he dedicated entirely to spending time with you. He’d already bought you a fair amount of stuff from cute frilly socks to pretty pink panties to some tiny t-shirts he knew he’d regret as soon as you used one to get your way. And now you were heading towards a shop tucked away in the farthest corner of the shopping center. His only hope was that the location meant it was the end of the line, the last stop on your trip.

From what he could see, it sold stuffed animals amongst other items that could clutter up his house. Luckily, the small plush toys seemed to be the only things drawing your attention. Your eyes scanned the rows before fixating on a specific one that sat on the bottom shelf. You crouched down to get and pulled it to your chest, standing up again so Leon could see your selection. His eyes soften as he notices your little cottontail twitching with excitement.

He can’t help the smile that spreads on his face at the sight. His sweet girl standing there with a small plush cow in her arms. The tufts of black and white fur jutted out the top of its head near a set of foamy horns. You looked up at him with puppy eyes, which he’d come to view as unfair since he’d chosen a bunny for a reason. But they worked on him all the same.

“Baby-” he starts, but you interject, predicting his argument.

“I don’t have a cow yet,” you plead, “It’s just one more.”

“Yeah, this one is just one more. And so is the next one, and the one after that, and the one after fifty more of these things,” he teases.

“C’mon, please,” you beg, stepping close to him to lean against his chest.

“Is this your way of telling me you want your own bed again? You’re just gonna fill the one we share with more and more of these until there’s no room and I’m pushed to the floor,” he jokes.

“No,” you deny, “Plus I put them away at night anyways.”

“Most of them,” he corrects.

“Cause I need my bear to sleep,” you say with a little pout.

He swears he almost swoons. You’re too fucking cute. He knows he’s spoiled you rotten. You’re treated better than the average hybrid to put it lightly, but he was past the point of paying that any mind. That shelter he’d picked you up from never let you have stuff like this. In his mind, he was righting their wrongs, burying those sad memories with as much cute shit as he could afford. And if other people didn’t approve, if they thought he should keep you silent and on a leash, he couldn’t care less.

Looking down at you now, playfully pleading with him for that stuffed animal, he knew he could never treat you like that. He rolls his eyes and messes with your hair, gently scratching the base of your floppy ears.

“Fine,” he says, “One more.”

You all but cheer with your excitement, bouncing up to give him a fat kiss on the cheek. He takes the stuffie from you and walks to the register to pay for it. You walk, lacing your hand with his and swinging your arms back and forth.

He looks over at you and instantly remembers why he always ends up giving in. Why he can never say no. Now that you had opened up, he couldn’t get enough of you. He’d loved you before that day a few months ago, the day when he’d caught you during your attempt at self-soothing with his pillow between your legs. But since that day, a whole new layer of you had been revealed to him. The sweet and shy bunny he’d met at the shelter touched his heart first, but the affectionate and needy girl you’d allowed him to see owned it now.

He pays for your little cow, adding another bag to the collection hanging from his arm, and leads you out of the store. You tuck yourself under his arm, clinging to his abdomen.

“Thank you, daddy,” you say quietly and press a kiss to his chest.

His heart throbs at the sound of the sweet name you’d attributed to him months ago. He has to remind himself that you’re in public before any other part of his body reacts.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he says and strokes one of your ears with his free hand.

Once the pair of you reach his car, he loads your stuff in before giving you a pat on the ass as you climb in the front seat. You’re all smiles, and he couldn’t feel better. He gets in the driver’s seat and switches the car on. Your hand goes for the controls to the music right away. He always let you pick when you were with him. Each song acted as a little glimpse into you and what you liked.

As you’re selecting one you like, he feels a buzz in his pocket. He fishes his phone out as you share some of the stuff you like about the song you put on. You then start asking him where you’re going next, but the plans slowly begin to unravel as he reads the message displayed over the picture of you he had as his screensaver.

“Shit…” he mutters to himself before looking back up at you. Your ears droop in tandem with his face dropping. “Baby, I gotta drop you back at the house. I gotta take care of some stuff at work for a bit.”

He sees the disappointment in your eyes, and it kills him.

“But… I thought you took the day off,” you say. Your mood rapidly depletes. It wasn’t his fault, but it wasn’t fair. This was supposed to be a day where he was all yours. Twenty four hours where the D.S.O. laid no claim on him.

“I did, but I’ve told you how it is sometimes. I can’t get out of it some days,” he says.

“But you already stayed late all week. What else do they even need you for?” you ask. It may be irrational, but you can’t help how your mind floods with a sense of abandonment in the moment. You knew Leon would never do that, but the years you spent in that shelter had done a good job of convincing you otherwise.

“Just some formality stuff. I’ll be as quick as I can. You know I wouldn’t choose working over being with you,” he says.

Now he’s the one pleading. Your ears are flat on your head, and your eyes are fixed on your seat below you. He knows you feel wounded now even though you’re holding it in.

“If you’re mad it’s ok,” he whispers and reaches out to stroke your jawline, “You can be upset, honey. I won’t get mad at you. I know you were excited about today.”

As much as you had opened up, he could tell you still shied away from showing too much negative emotion. He knew you’d gone through some punishments at the shelter you were still too scared to talk about.

“It’s not your fault,” you say and shrug, dejection all over your features.

He sighs and starts the car, pulling out of the parking space, and heading towards the house. “I know it’s not, but you can still let out some frustration. I wouldn't think you’re ungrateful if that’s what you’re worried about. You wouldn’t get in trouble,” he says, keeping his tone gentle.

You bring your feet up onto the seat and retreat into yourself a bit. With a simple shake of your head, he knows the topic has closed.

He lets out a quiet sigh as he drives down the road.  It drips with the frustration that he’s letting you down. He can’t reach inside your head and pull out the negative effects of the shelter. He can’t tell the D.S.O. to fuck off and let him spend as many hours as he wants with his precious girl. All he can do is pull into the driveway and watch you get out of the car, your posture slightly slumped with the encroaching feelings of loneliness. You pull your shopping bags from the car. At least you give him a little parting kiss so he doesn’t feel completely emaciated.

He watches your sad trudge into the house before taking the car back out of the driveway and down the same road in the opposite direction.

Inside the house, the silence dominates you. You pad down the hallway to the bedroom that had once belonged solely to Leon. Dropping the bags of clothes near the door, you then hop on the bed and toss your new little cow up near your other pillows. Your eyes linger on the ceiling. You’d become familiar with the insignificant bumps and ridges above that provided a distraction on sleepless nights. Nights where you just needed to tune everything out and count them to avoid being haunted by the past.

Before Leon had taken you in, you always imagined you’d enjoy the quiet of a real home. The shelter always echoed with loud cries of sorrow, screams of anger, and whimpers of hopelessness. You’d lie on the thin mattress tucked in the corner of your area and try to dream of the days your bed would be lush with pillows and blankets, decorated how you liked and  surrounded by the peace of you and whoever had chosen to love you.

And now those days have come. They’re real. You didn’t have to deal with the constant atmosphere of despair or the looming threat of punishment for acting like a human being. So why was it so easy for you to tumble into sadness like this? Why did the quiet no longer mean sanctuary but rather the absence of the person you loved most in this world? You could never work it out. It was too hard. Any time you tried you ended up spiraling into even more self loathing. Because there’s nothing to be sad about anymore. There’s no reason to feel like this. That stuff shouldn’t bother you; it’s nothing more than a collection of ugly memories at this point. Why couldn’t you be grateful for the life Leon had given you? The man gave you just about anything under the sun you could want, so why did one minor inconvenience have to throw you off this badly?

The bags by the door didn’t make you smile anymore. They only brought guilt. You didn’t deserve them. All the gifts and love he lavished upon you would never make you into what you were supposed to be.

Your thoughts consume you for longer than you notice. The sky darkens outside, tinting the room with a violet haze. You lie on the bed under your self-made cloud of gloom for hours, not noticing how much time has passed until you hear the garage door closing and footsteps getting closer. You glance at the bedroom door as it opens silently.

Of course, it’s Leon. His eyes fill with concern at the sight of you. He’d seen you down before but never so deflated. His face now resembles how he looked when he caught you humping his pillow all those months ago, but it’s also distinctly different. He still has curiosity in his gaze, not able to pin down what exactly is the reason for the present circumstances. Though the reaction this time is more worried than surprised. Your present state doesn’t shock him; instead he feels a protective instinct flare within him.

He approaches the bed and sits next to your limp form. His palm rubs up and down your arm slowly. “Hey baby,” he says softly, “You doing ok?”

You look up at him and nod. Sitting up, you scoot to him and align your side with his. Your legs extend out in the opposite direction of him as your head rests on the curve of his shoulder. “I just missed you,” you say softly, your arms encircling the circumference of his bicep.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and starts rubbing your back. “You do anything fun while I was gone?” he asks.

“Nothing special,” you respond, “Think shopping made me sleepy.”

You speak with a soft tone of voice, attempting to further the idea that this was merely a bout of tiredness. His eyebrows rise with suspicion. As cute as you look with your cheek squished against his shoulder, he pulls your body around and seats you on his lap. His fingers sweep down your jaw and guide you to look up at him.

“You sure you’re just tired? Nothing else? We weren’t out for that long. I just wanna make sure you’re alright,” he says, trying to show you with how he speaks that it’s not an accusation.

But you remain firm in your convictions and nod. “Mhm, I’m already feeling better. I just needed a little rest,” you assure him and tuck your face against his neck.

It’s not a lie. You were feeling better now that he had returned, each passing moment had little improvement for your mood. But he knew something still wasn’t right. He strokes down the silky expanse of your ears while his other hand massages the base of your tail.

“Well, I missed you too, y’know? Couldn’t stop thinking about my sweet baby bunny the whole time I was at work,” he says.

You were already melting against his chest from the physical contact, but now a smile graces your features. “Really?” you ask, looking up at him again.

“Really,” he confirms, “I felt pretty bad leaving you all alone when it was supposed to be our day.”

“Oh, you don’t have to fe-” you start before he interrupts.

“No, I told you the day was gonna be for us. So how about this?” he asks, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your chin, “How about instead we make it a night for us? I’ll give you a nice bath, put you in some of the new stuff I got you.”

He kisses your head again, then your temple, then your cheek.

“Maybe daddy’ll even give you a special treat before you fall asleep,” he murmurs before kissing your lips.

Taking in a deep breath, you nod. You’re helpless when he treats you like this, disagreeing doesn’t even seem like an option.

“Will you get in the bath with me though?” you ask.

He grins and rises off the bed with you in his arms. “Of course. Anything for my baby bunny.”

The two of you head to the attached bathroom. He sits you on the counter while drawing the bath. Steam drifts up into the hair from the hot water pooling in the tub. He lights some candles, dims the lights, and lets you pick out the scent of bubbles you want.

You sit on the laminate countertop, lazily swinging your dangling legs as you watch him. He checks the temperature of the water multiple times and stares at the clear liquid coming from the bottle of bubble bath. Once that’s taken care of, it’s your turn. He slips your shirt over your head and your bottoms down your legs like you’re the most delicate thing on the face of the earth. Kisses land on your jaw as he pulls your panties off too and drops them in the hamper with the other articles of clothing. So meticulous about everything, at least when it came to you.

He scoops you up again and brings you to the bath, setting you down in the water before twisting the faucet off and discarding his own clothing. Then he climbs in behind you, slotting his body between yours and the cool marble.

“C’mere, baby. Nice and close to daddy,” he murmurs as he pulls you onto his thighs.

You sink into his chest. The feeling of his skin against yours is almost enough to make it all better, enough to make you forget about earlier. You nuzzle into his muscular front, making him smile. He strokes your face and takes care to avoid getting your ears wet.

Both baths and showers used to make you anxious, and he knew that. One of the details you had shared with him about your life at the shelter was having to share the space with all the other hybrids, including the bathrooms. You’d told him how much you hated it, and he could only imagine. He tried extra hard now to make both as comfortable for you as possible, pampering you like an absolute princess.

Thinking about all this, him going above and beyond for you like he always did, makes you turn more into his body. Your arms loop around him, and you place your head beside his, obscuring your downtrodden expression from his vision. Your chin rests on his shoulder as he returns the embrace and holds you closer.

“My perfect girl,” he whispers.

The words are complimentary, but right now, the second in particular stings like a blade. You nestle your face against the warmth of his throat and tighten your limbs around him, trying to drown out the bad swirling inside of you with the feeling of his flesh on yours.

He knows you’re still acting a little unusual. Maybe your heat was right around the corner and it had you feeling extra needy. Maybe you were just still a bit sad about missing out on a day with him. He wasn’t totally sure, but he just wanted to make it better. And the way you were starting to press against him, breasts flush against his chest and the warmth of your thighs pressing against either side of him had his cock starting to stiffen up.

“Sweet thing… you wanna feel a little closer, hm?” he murmurs, fingertips rubbing tiny circles into the small of your back.

You weakly nod.

“Is this close enough? Or should daddy get even closer? I think being inside would feel even better,” he whispers.

You nod again, this time with more motivation. “Please daddy,” you mumble.

“Of course. All you had to do was ask,” he says. He lazily strokes himself a few times beneath the water, getting himself a little harder before he lifts you slightly and slides in.

A soft moan drifts out of you as he lowers you again. You put your head back down on him and sit with the comfort of being full.

“There’s my baby bunny,” he coos in a low voice.

He also takes in the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in. The feeling of your warm, wet embrace wrapped around him.

The two of you sit quietly for a while more, the bathroom silent except for the occasional trickle of water when one of you shifts. Flickering lights from the candles paint the walls in dim orange as the scent of the bubble bath takes over the air completely.

But to Leon’s dismay, your mood doesn’t seem to be brightening up. You don’t start squirming with the need to ride him like you normally would. You don’t get extra sappy with him and start going for more kisses or longing looks. 

He reaches for the wash cloth resting on the brim of the tub and soaks it in the water. He squirts some soap onto it and gently rubs it up and down your back. He can feel your muscles losing some of their tension, but you’re still withdrawn. He continues tenderly cleaning you off while you sit with him inside you.

After a few moments more, not knowing becomes unbearable. “Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“Nothing, I’m-”

“You’re not just sleepy,” he interjects. His voice is still loving despite the confrontational manner of the conversation. 

He gently guides you away from his body so you’re kneeling straight up in the bath. His eyes scan you over, trying to make this easier by figuring out what it is, but he can’t. He brings the wash cloth up to your chest and starts brushing it against your chest, between your breasts, and down your belly.

“I know something’s wrong, and I know you’re scared of talking about things like this. But I would honestly prefer you telling me what it is, even if it comes out harsh, to sitting here and trying to figure out what’s bothering you,” he says as he rubs your skin with the soft cloth.

“I don’t know,” you say timidly.

“I’m only asking because I care. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is. Seeing you hurting hurts me too, baby,” he responds.

“I’m not lying. I don’t know,” you say again, some defensiveness seeping into your words, “I don’t know why I feel bad. I don’t know how to tell you what’s wrong. I just- I felt sad earlier, and I know I shouldn’t feel sad which makes me more sad.”

He sees the panic rising in your eyes and hears your words becoming more rushed. In an effort to keep the situation controlled, he pulls you back to his chest, hushing your worries by engulfing you with his arms. You reciprocate the motion, eager to retreat from your emotions. He takes a pause to grapple with what you had just said.

“What do you mean you shouldn’t feel sad?” he asks.

“Because… because there’s no reason to be sad,” you answer.

“If you’re sad, then there’s a reason to be sad,” he says and looks down at you with growing concern.

You shake your head. “No, there isn’t,” you whimper. You start to feel tears collecting in your eyes while your throat feels like it’s constricting. “You make everything so perfect for me, and I can’t do the same for you.”

He’s beyond confused at this point. He feels a couple tears fall against his neck, and all he can do is hold you tighter.

“Woah, woah, baby, c’mon,” he says, trying to prevent more tears, “What are you talking about? Perfect? I don’t expect you to be perfect.”

“Yeah, exactly because you are perfect. You never push me. You never ask for too much. You never do anything bad, and I still get like this,” you cry.

“... Is that a bad thing?” he asks, still lost.

“No, but I just wanna be perfect for you too. You work so hard all the time at your job, and then you come home and you have to deal with me,” you weep and cling onto him more, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” he says in a hushed voice, “You’re exactly what I want. I couldn’t ask for anything more than you.”

“Yes, you could. You deserve someone who can give you what you give. You deserve someone who’s not fucked up by stupid stuff from the past,” you cry, “I’ll never be a perfect pet, and I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

His chest aches and tightens up when he hears that. He starts to pull out, figuring this wasn’t the time to be balls deep inside you, but you stay locked around him so he stays put.

“Sweetheart, you’re not… I don’t see you as…” he starts, being careful with his words.

You continue your quiet crying against him.

“You’re more than a pet to me,” he decides, soft but firm, “You don’t disappoint me ever. You can’t disappoint me because I don’t have expectations of what you should be. You’re not some dumb animal that I want to mold into a fantasy. I know you were treated like that before, but that’s not what you are to me. You’re my baby bunny. My little love.”

More tears spill out onto him. The bathwater ripples with the shaking of your body.

“You’re not fucked up,” he whispers, “That stuff you went through at the shelter, that’s a big deal. I don’t expect you to just be able to move on from that like it’s normal. You need some extra care, and I’ve known that since the first day you came home with me. It’s not a bad thing. It’s something I love about you. I’m not dealing with you when we do things like this. You’re not a burden to me.”

“Promise?” is all you can choke out right now.

“I promise, baby. Cross my heart and hope to die,” he murmurs and kisses your temple. He sighs and squeezes his arms around you before saying a little more amidst the quiet of the bathroom. “I’m not gonna pretend I know exactly how you feel. But I know how it is to get shoved into a life you didn’t ask for. To get expectations put on you that you can never meet. I don’t want you to feel like that with me. I love you, and I’m gonna love you whether you’re a perfect ‘pet’ or not. That’s not what’s important to me.”

You know he’s being genuine. You hold yourself closer and press a few faint kisses to his throat. “I’m sorry,” you cry.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he whispers, “Just try and calm down for me, sweet girl. Take some deep breaths.”

You do as he says and work towards settling down. Your breathing slows, and the tears slowly stop. He grabs another washcloth and wets it. He guides your head up and gives you a small kiss before dabbing at your cheeks and cleaning your face of any remaining sadness. Your eyes flutter shut and relax under the loving care of his movements. He tends to your hair next, caring for it how you need.

Once your bath is done, he pulls out of you. You give him a little pout, bringing a smirk to his face.

“Patience, little one,” he teases before standing up with you in his arms.

He taps the stopper with his foot, draining the bathtub as he steps out. He sets you down so he can wrap a towel around his waist and then bundles you up in a big fluffy one. He dries you off and brings you in front of the mirror. He applies some product to your ears, something he’d gotten to keep them from drying out. You can’t help the smile on your face as his fingers gently rub down your long, fluffy ears. You can feel his love through his motions. He follows it with your hair routine, going through each step with precision and making sure to do it just how you like.

Before he takes you to the bedroom, his arms curl around your waist and he slots his head next to yours, gazing into your eyes through the reflective glass of the mirror.

“My baby bunny,” is all he says before pulling you out to the bed and laying you down on it.

He gets some of your lotion, a scent he’d become so familiar with. He rubs it all up and down your legs, taking time to lightly massage as he works. His hands glide all over your body, over your hips, up your sides, across your chest, and down your arms to your hands. Every inch of you was going to feel soft as silk if he could help it. The soft sighs of pleasure that come from you are enough to keep him thoroughly invested in the process.

When he’s finished, he plants a kiss on your lips and gets up. He heads to the door where you had dropped the shopping bags from earlier. He’s rifling through them, pulling out some new items you could wear to bed. He fishes out a cute t-shirt and some smooth panties when he hears your voice call to him.

“Wait, daddy?” you say.

“Yeah, baby?” he responds immediately, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Come back,” you request.

He looks at you curiously but stands up and walks back to the edge of the bed where you were sitting. Looking down at you lovingly, he holds your jaw and squeezes your cheeks. “What is it?”

“I don’t wanna get dressed yet… Maybe I could still have my treat… if you want to,” you initiate timidly while grabbing the hem of his towel.

He smiles and breathes out a laugh. “Yeah? You’re feeling better and need daddy again?” he asks teasingly, letting you tug the towel loose. It crumples to the floor behind his legs and unveils his cock to you.

“Always need my daddy,” you say, looking up at him.

“Don’t I know it,” he teases.

He pushes you back on the bed and crawls on top of you. Leaning down, he kisses and nips at your neck. His hands squeeze your hips. You nuzzle the side of his head affectionately. Out of the corner of your eye you see him swat away the plush cow that sat nearby on a pillow from when you’d thrown it earlier.

“Hey,” you say, feigning protest, “That’s mean. He didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sure he’ll forgive me,” he says with a grin.

Your body is already exposed from the bath, and he takes advantage. He kisses down along your collarbone towards the valley of your breasts. His palms cup them at the sides as his lips coast over them. He always took his time with you when he could. He’d get to rush when you were in heat and soaked just from being in the room with him.

Your fingers lace through the strands of his hair as you draw in a sharp breath. He laves at your nipples and the sensitive flesh of your breasts. His tongue caresses along the curves slowly, building your anticipation and causing your tummy to start fluttering.

His hand slides down your body, dipping between your legs to seek out your center. His fingers brush against the velvet folds and feel how they’re beginning to grow slick with your arousal. He swirls around your clit before pressing down on the sensitive nub and rubbing. Your lips part as you mewl.

“Is daddy already making you feel good, baby?” he coos.

You nod as your face starts to morph into that pouty look you get when you’re worked up. He loves every second of it and continues flicking his middle finger against the bud.

“You gonna let me show you how perfect you are, hm?” he asks.

You simply whine in response and tilt your head back against the pillows.

“That’s my girl. So fuckin’ pretty when you get like this,” he says.

He swipes his fingers up and down some more until he feels you're wet enough and ready to take him. He was certain you could take it without as much prep. Over the last couple of months, you’d you’d shown him the phrase “fucking like rabbits” was true after all, but he liked making you feel like you needed it. He like dragging his tip against your entrance, teasingly prodding the head of his cock at your hole. He savored the way you whine and squirm for it. Just like you were doing right now.

He pushes it in you, a deep groan coming from him as he sinks in all the way to the hilt. The way your eyes flutter and droop drives him crazy. His arms cage you down on the mattress as his knees sink into the plush blankets for leverage so that he can start thrusting.

“Perfect fit, that’s for sure,” he grunts, “No one else can take my cock like you can.”

You nod, whimpering and holding onto him. “Made for my daddy,” you say before gasping.

“Yeah you were. My perfect angel bunny. Sent down just for me,” he says and starts rocking his hips.

You writhe within the confines of his arms. Your breasts push up against his chest as your back arches. He fucks into you deep as he can, just how he knows you like it. Gripping your wrists, he pins them on the mattress, keeping you secure and in place so that he can piston his hips against you without interruption.

His own head tilts back, eyes shutting and lips separating the smallest bit. You gaze up at him like he’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. Every bit of him makes you clamp around his length.

“Such a good girl,” he mutters, “This is just what you needed. Just needed daddy to breed you and get you nice and calm again.”

That word makes your fuse burn faster, and you nod vigorously. “Can’t help it daddy,” you whimper, “I’m just a bunny. Don’t know any better.”

“Oh, I know, baby. Sweet little bunny like you needs to be bred. You need daddy’s cock to function, don’t you? Nothing feels right if you haven’t been bred,” he says, picking up more speed.

“Mhm,” you squeak.

Your legs start trembling hard as he hammers into your sweet spot over and over. To stabilize you, he lets go of your wrists and places his palms on the back of your thighs. He’s pressing you so hard into the mattress it feels like you might drop through straight to the floor. You cry out for him again and again, spurring him on.

“Good girl. I gotta breed my perfect little bunny. Fuck you nice and full like you deserve,” he grunts. The bed creaks with the force of his movements.

He pants as he drills into you. His head eventually falls forward to your shoulder again, but his hips don’t stop rolling.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard, you’re gonna end up with a whole litter,” he moans.

Your eyes roll back and your legs lock around his waist. “Need it, daddy. Please,” you whine and clutch at his shoulders.

“I need it too baby. Need to knock up my sweet baby bunny. Gotta get you nice and full so everyone knows you’re all mine,” he says.

You’re both almost at the peak, gripping each other as tight as possible, sucking in air like there’s a limited supply. Both of you are moments from snapping when Leon’s eyes screw shut, his mind clouded by images of you pregnant with his babies. It’s too much, and he’s snapping into you like he’ll die otherwise.

“You’re gonna be the prettiest mama to our perfect babies,” he moans against you before his body starts sputtering.

The feeling of his cum flooding into you is enough to throw you over the edge with him. You seize up, back arching off the bed like you're possessed. You babble out some words of love, but all of it gets lost. You’re so jumbled up from the high, you both can only cling to each other as you ride it out.

You’re still breathing heavy as you come down, and so is he. Puffs of his breath come out right next to your ear. He lazily kisses below the lobe as you come back to reality.

“You see how important to me you are? See how much I love you?” he murmurs as he carefully rolls over and brings you to rest on his chest with him still buried inside you.

You nod and peck his jaw as you settle against him.

“Good. I never want you thinking like that again. If you ever need a reminder of what I think of you, I want you to tell me, and I’ll give you this same reminder.”

“I will,” you agree softly as he strokes your back.

You’re both exhausted from the exertion and the long day. He’s content to just melt into the bed while tangled up with you.

“Gonna keep you plugged up for a while, baby. Gotta make sure it takes, my sweet girl,” he mumbles as his eyes start drooping.

You gaze up at him, pretty sure you have hearts in your eyes. Your doubt and sadness had been abated for now. You nuzzle him and kiss his chest before trying to get some rest yourself. 

“Love you daddy. So so much,” you whisper.

[princessbrunette]

thinking about bunny being in a slightly difficult mood, grumpy, huffing and stomping her foot around tannyhill. rafe’s trying to let her have her temper tantrum since they’re a rare occurrence. but after a few hours of her sour mood not letting up, he manhandles her rove this lap to put in her bunny plug and finger her till she cries and he’s cooing at her about how “only dad can fix that little attitude huh, bun?”

oh my god??????

(⑅◞ ִ ◟⑅) · ˚ 𓈒 🎀 ྀི 🌸 ♡

he can handle the grumpiness, stomping around in little heels and huffing at minor inconveniences. sour moods never last too long with you, so having to deal with you isn’t exactly something that concerns him. however, he is a little surprised to learn that after a few hours — you’re carrying that same amount of aggression, manicured nails digging into your palm as you storm around with clenched fists, shrugging carelessly to whatever rafe asks you and bottom lip permanently jutted into a pout.

the final straw is when you go to pull your shirt from your dresser where it was folded, tugging a little too hard and hearing a tear. usually, this wouldn’t bother you. you knew deep down that it was no biggie to get something like that fixed, and rafe would never let you walk around with holes in your clothes — but the simple act of it happening sent you over the edge, screaming at the top of your lungs and repeatedly beating the shirt on the dresser, kicking your kitten-heeled feet against the wood of it until the heavy footsteps of your boyfriend had arrived behind you.

“the fuck is —” he cuts himself off, seeing the scene before him, taking in the dramatics before instantly doing what he knew should have done hours ago. in seemingly one quick movement, rafe yanks you by the arm out the way while opening the drawer and pulling out the clean bunny buttplug just waiting for usage. “alright, alright — alright!” he yells over your fussing until it was just broken whines and cries, the boy forcing you over his lap on the bed.

“its broken—” you go to yell once more as rafe yanks up your skirt, but he cuts you off quickly — asserting his dominance in hopes you’ll simply relax.

“lower your voice kid, won’t ask you again.” he commands sternly, and luckily you don’t bother again, sucking in short breaths and sniffling into the bedsheets as he works your panties off completely, knowing you won’t be needing them anymore.

you groan when rafe slots his hand beneath your throat and lifts your head with his grip, bending as much as he can to crane over you and hold the plug to your mouth. “c’mon. get it wet. don’t waste my time.” he taps your bottom lip and you sniffle, drooling until not only the metal was coated but his fingers were too from the run off. “shit, crazy girl.” he tsks as he leans back, touching the tip of it to your puckered hole. “you’re gonna calm the hell down. alright? once this is in you’re gonna chill out. i know you need me to fix that little attitude, okay i know. but you gotta use your words and not freak out on me. daddy can’t help you otherwise. yeah?” he talks to you as he pushes it in, feeling relief in the way your body melts on his lap, still sucking in harsh breaths but slower.

“yeah.” you repeat, knowing you had to say something but your brain was in melting mode, not capable of thinking of much else.

“alright. good. now, look at me — m’gonna ask you something n’i want an answer.” he demands, slowly helping your trembling body to stand between his legs. you clutch his white shirt in your fists, grounding yourself as your tearful eyes flicker over his face. you make a noise of acknowledgment so that he can continue. “what do you want? i— i can’t fix it for you baby ‘cos i don’t know what it is.” he flings out an arm, gesturing the shirt you left strewn on the floor. “is it that? do you want me to look at that? do you need a nap? food?” he shakes his head in exasperation, wide eyes searching yours with parted lips like he was really trying to figure you out.

you sniffle, shuffling on your feet as you stand inbetween his legs, his arm around your lower back keeping you leaning on him — and you’re not saying anything. he blinks, before speaking once more. “its dick. you want dick, huh?”

you didn’t know you did. truthfully, you’d been in a god awful mood all day, feeling like everything was going wrong — and in that moment things became just a little clearer as to why that might be. rafe hadn’t fucked you all week, you’d been out and about doing your own things — which is normal and okay in every relationship — just not in yours. you needed rafe to remind you who’s boss, because you didn’t wanna have to think anymore.

“please.” you nod, fiddling with his shirt button and the hand around your back slides down to beneath your skirt, tugging at the tail before massaging his fingers over your empty hole, feeling the way it gets sticky around him.

“hm. i should’a known.” he drawls, eyeing over you before plucking at your clothes. “gotta take this off, yeah? lemme see you.”

(⑅◞ ִ ◟⑅) · ˚ 𓈒 🎀 ྀི 🌸 ♡

[lovegasmic]

ִֶָ yours to keep ↪ part three of mafia boss sukuna.

⋆ fluff ‹3, mention of pregnancy symptoms, reader has hyperemesis gravidarum ( heavy morning sickness, dehydration and dizziness ). this part is basically a collection of pieces ( drabbles ) from Sukuna and reader’s relationship. i can't possibly write a long fic sjdhhdh help.

I'm considering finishing the au here 🙆‍♀️ but do let me know in the comments if you think Sukuna is girl or boy's dad ^^

saying your first encounter was a coincidence is a fact, saying the ones that came after were under the same circumstances, it's nothing but a lie.

the gifts didn’t stop, nor the secret rendezvous with Sukuna’s bribing either the employees or bosses of each establishment you went to, although the man was more than eager to show off the world you’re with him now, he had to be cautious in case your daddy wished to stir some drama and forbid you to meet up with the pink haired. to Sukuna, your only daddy should be himself.

the bouquets of multiple flowers remained the same, —although most were yellow pansies. but a fresh set was always placed on your bedside table, still holding tightly onto Sukuna’s scent in each petal.

I’ll send a driver for you.

is what Sukuna had texted you that day, and in other situations you could have been thrilled, jumping around to find a suiting outfit for the occasion, although most of them ended up on his bedroom floor.

not today, i’m not feeling well.

you replied, and perhaps, you actually believed you’ll have a free day, well, for Sukuna that was text read as “please come and heal me”

I’m outside.

luckily your father was barely at home, so sneaking out was not an issue, only greeted by your bodyguard’s subtle nod, knowing better than to mess with your no-yet-boyfriend.

“what’s wrong, princess?” is the first thing Sukuna asks, a worried look on his face, one that no one besides you have seen on his usual cold facade, although his voice and hands are warm, gently tilting your chin to meet the red of his irises. “shall I call a doctor?” he suggests, arm around your waist to guide you into the black tinted car.

you shake your head, propping it on Sukuna’s broad shoulder, “it’s fine, probably something I ate” you mumble, eyelashes fluttering close at the sensation of your lover’s hand sliding down your back and settling on your belly, followed by a kiss on your forehead, “will feel better soon”

the car’s movements are enough to lull you to sleep, briefly hearing Sukuna humming against your hair, not quite content with that reply, but it will do for now.

A rebellion or loss of a very fruitful drug selling zone in the city could have made Sukuna worry, or at least that’s what his guards could have said, although none of those have happened and neither have any of his men seen the pink haired in such distress, pacing around the large, luxury filled room while his trust worthy doctor checked on you.

why did you lie? why did you say you’ll feel better when you haven’t? but he can’t get mad at you, not when you look so fragile and soft, laying under his expensive silk sheets.

“Sukuna, please stop, I told you i’m fine!” you half chuckle, heart warming at the sight of him all worried, head snapping back to meet your gaze with a scowl.

“you are not fine,” he huffs, sliding a hand through his face and slicking his hair back in a nervous manner you’ve come to notice. then a second later he’s crawling next to you, holding your hand tightly, shifting between you and the doctor drawing a bit of blood from your stretched out arm, by the look in his eyes you knew he was about to snap and tell the doctor to hurry up.

“it’s just a little dizziness,” you shrug.

and he groans, “...be quiet”

“when do you want to get married?”

you gasp, muffled words due to Sukuna’s arms around your head, keeping you against his half buttoned black shirt covered chest, “what?”

a low rumble under your cheek proves Sukuna laughed, deep and melodic, “you’re carrying my babies, of course you’ll marry me” he murmurs, more than a suggestion is a fact, one that you’re not truly against. as soon as the results were in, your now self called fiance sported the widest grin you’ve ever seen, a spark that wasn’t there before shining brightly on those eyes you’ve come to adore, “unless you don’t want to...” he trails off, mockingly hurt.

“i do...” you mumble back, gripping on the back of his shirt, “it’s just that... it won’t be easy” of course it won’t, not with your dad.

during the time you’ve met Sukuna, one thing was always permanent, and it was that cocky, self confident smirk of his, plastered on his face even though the situation didn’t require, it didn’t falter in the slightest, not even at the sight of your father grabbing a very expensive vase and tossing it in Sukuna’s direction, luckily the pink haired man easily dodged it, and the sound of broken ceramic echoed in the back.

“dad!” you yelp, placing yourself between your lover and your progenitor, “stop it!”

truly you knew it was a terrible idea, the suggestion of talking with your father on your own was not even considered by the pink haired, barely a week after your pregnancy discovery and he was more than eager to share the news, diamond ring shining on your finger, one that Sukuna promised to replace by a real engagement ring after settling things up, he, of course, didn’t mention the fact that said ring was hidden at the back of his closet.

“anyone! it could have been anyone in the world but you chose him?” your father yells, hurt dripping from his voice with a short stumble back, “what did I do to deserve this?”

you really considered that him and Sukuna would be wonderful friends, considering their love to exaggerate and play the victim’s role. “and he even got you pregnant!” he sobs loudly, face hidden behind his ring covered hands.

a quiet huff can be heard from your back, where your boyfriend stands.

“i love her,” Sukuna speaks, not before rising his brow and eyes rolling at the pointed look you gave him, “this doesn’t mean we’ll make peace, but I love your daughter, and i’ll marry her whether you like it or not.”

wondering what were the odds of two people dying at the same time, in the same spot, due to your father’s face going paler and his men having to hold him back to stop a murder attempt on Sukuna.

much against his good will, his princess deserved to be happy, even if it was with the devil himself.

Sukuna is not a man to regret his actions, following the ideal of “whatever, it’s done now” although now, his whole resolve is crumbling.

was it really a good idea to get you pregnant? the idea crossed his mind, guilt tugging on his chest as he knelt besides you, gently rubbing your back and holding your hair as you threw up for the fifth time, swallowing the urge to apologize for the nth time, he gently guides you up to wash your teeth and back to bed, his chest working as a pillow under your tired body, barely six weeks in.

“i’m sorry,” he finally speaks, tenderly rubbing your back, helping you ease the ache and nausea that crawled up your throat, “this is my fault” voice filled with concern and rage towards himself.

you barely shake your head, nuzzling on his toned chest, “t’s not your fault” you croak, “i’ll get better soon, just two or three months left”

yet the attempt to calm Sukuna’s racing heart and mind was not enough, the guilt still crawling up his chest and setting in his throat, fighting back the urge to let out a broken sound.

“i love you” he mutters instead, resting his cheek on the top of your head, hand rubbing your waist softly, “my strong, brave angel, after the baby is born i’ll give you the best wedding you could ask for” it’s a soft sigh, “... but we won’t have more babies”

you chuckle, wholeheartedly, weird how watching his beloved go through such discomfort can erase the breeding kink from someone.

🔖♡ @yuujispinkhair @valleydoli @hyeinwluv85s @sadmonke @ryomance @inzanekillian @emilymikado @r-ryuko09 @ichorstainedskin @tadabzzzbee @acidrefiux

[nexysworld]

summary: Brat tamed by your step dad. pairing: Step Dad Toji x Fem!Reader tags: NSFW, Smut, Stepcest, Daddy Kink, Age Gap, Pussy Slapping, Spanking, Mean!Toji, Degradation Kink, Unprotected Sex, Manhandling, Dub-con, fem receiving oral, Reader is 18+, MDNI wc: 2.4k

Read on AO3 || Ask Box || Masterlists a/n: this is my first time writing for JJK and Toji, but god am I down BAD for this man. I wanna practice and write more because....yeah. 😏 Title based on the song. Also special thanks to @kaitkatme for beta-reading this for me.

“Fuck off Megumi, you’re always breathing down my neck!” You yelled, chucking the pillow across the room at your step brother. “Seriously, get out!”

“I’m only doing what I’m supposed to as your big brother!” He yelled back, easily dodging the weaponized cushion. “Dudes like that are only looking for one thing. They’re dangerous.” “Really? You sure? I would say you’d know, but I don’t think you’re getting any either.” You replied, rolling your eyes. 

“Whatever, give me the phone.” His hand was stuck out expectantly.  “No way! I’m an adult, I can go out with whoever I want.” 

The two of you tussle back and forth around the room, grappling over the device in your hand. Luckily for you, his back was to your bedroom door, giving you the chance with one good shove to send him staggering backwards into the hallway, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure. The door slammed shut with a loud thud, and you clicked the lock to make sure he couldn’t get back in so easily. 

You flopped back down onto the plush bed, intending to return to what you were doing when noise caught your attention. Loud stomping, followed by some muffled arguing – you recognized one of the voices as your step dad, he must’ve been woken up by the argument. 

As the voices got closer you could make out the tail end of the conversation.  “Why don’t you just buckle up and be a father for once.” “Will you stop naggin’ me, she ain’t even my kid.” “She calls you dad.” “So do you, fuckin’ brat. And you don’t listen to me either.”  “You really want her skulking around with one of those mercs? Bet that’ll look real good on you, old man. Your rivals joking about going through rounds with your slutty daughter.” 

“Tch, fine. But only because I’m sick of your fuckin’ nagging kid. We both know she isn’t goin’ to listen t’me.” His footsteps were heavy as they closed in on your room. The front door of the house slammed close downstairs, Megumi having retreated. There was a brief silence outside your door as he pondered what to say before his heavy fist landed on the door a few times. “Open up.”

“Don’t think I will.” You added, not feeling like being lectured again, and especially not by the deadbeat who fucks your mom. Or did fuck your mom, no one really knew where mom was these days. 

There was a huff of frustration as he banged on the door again. “I ain’t askin’ twice.”

“Then don’t.” You lazily went back to scrolling on your phone. 

“You fuckin’ brats are really startin’ to piss me off today.” A loud boom rattled the walls, nearly giving you a heart attack. Your bedroom door had been kicked right off the hinges, the top half of the door tangling by what was left of a single screw, the bottom half launched into the wall across the room. 

You’d seen Toji go at it with Megumi before, tossing all sorts of things at him with his absurd inhuman strength, but you’d never been the target of that anger before. Your mouth opened in shock, ready to say something, but words caught in your throat as he marched towards you.

“First I’m woken up because the two of you can’t keep yer traps shut. Then I get an earful about you running off with some merc kid – thought I raised you better than that.” “You didn’t raise me at all!” Toji had been around as long as you could remember, probably the closest thing you’d ever have to a real dad. Except he only really acted like a father when he was trying to get in your moms pants – or when you made cute bait for a potential bounty he was trying to collect on.  “Shut it.” He said, towering over you. “Screw you!” You spat indignantly.  “I ain’t dealin’ with any more shit today.” It always impressed you how fast he was, for such a large buff guy. Even still, it shocked you how quickly he managed to flip your positions, him sitting on the bed, you bent over his lap. The only noise you could get out was a yelp as his hand collided with your clothed butt cheek, the red hot warmth of pain radiating outwards.  “What happened to that filthy mouth?” He asked mockingly, this time tugging your pajama pants down to expose the plush mounds of your ass. “Come on princess, you wanna talk like a big bad adult, then talk.” He brought his hand down again, this one knocking the wind out of you, making your legs kick behind you tangled in your pajama pants – fat hot tears forming in your waterline. “No? Nothing?” He asked again, as he continued his onslaught, large hand imprinting its shape on you. “That’s what I thought. Shoulda knocked some manners into both you brats forever ago.” 

He shoved you off of him, making you tumble head first onto the floor. Your face was red with anger, cheeks puffed out, righting yourself just enough to look up at him, still tangled in your own pants. He looked down at you amused, scanning your form. He grabbed your face with his hand, squishing your cheeks together, forcing you into a kissy face. “Now that’sa look.” He mused. “Acting like you’re ready to go run around with boys, but can’t even stop snottin’ and cryin’ like a kid after getting spanked by your Daddy.” You wanted to say something back, insult him, tell him to shut up. But you couldn’t, ass sore, mouth still pushed out between his fingers. Instead, you glared him down as best you could.

“What was your plan anyway? Hope he’d take you somewhere fancy, call you pretty names while he licked that little cunt? Or were you hopin’ he’d be mean, put you in your place.” He chuckled, leaning forward so your faces were close together again. “Maybe Megumi was right – ‘m gonna have to listen to stories from half the guild about my slutty little girl, aren’t I?”  “N-no!” You managed to squeak out at the accusation, it fell on deaf ears as he continued rambling his own thoughts. “Only thing I can’t understand is why you’d pick some loser I work with. When ‘m sure there’s plenty of punks crawling around this city, ready to get their dicks wet.” His eyes narrowed, a smug ear to ear grin taking over his features. “Oh, I get it now, you want someone just like your Daddy, don’t you?”  Heat pooled between your legs at his words, cheeks on fire with embarrassment more than anger now. You squeezed your thighs together, hoping he didn’t notice. He let go of your face finally, red finger marks lingering on your skin. Despite having the chance to speak, you were stunned into silence. 

He noticed.

Of course he noticed. 

Toji yanked you up by your arm, roughly pulling you into his lap, pressed against his chest with your head over his shoulder. His large, rough fingers trailed down the semi-circle of your ass cheek to dip lower from behind, gently brushing against your slicked folds.  “Looks like I’m right on the mark.” “N-nuh uh!” You denied, exasperated.

“Dumb little brat, runnin’ around looking for trouble when all you need is your Daddy, right here at home.” He played with you a little, stuffing his index finger into your wet heat, his thumb rubbing against your clit in even circular motions. You whined, squirming your legs at the sensation, feeling your walls clamp around the digit. What remained of your dignity was fleeting, as you felt his cock press against your leg through his pants. “Looks like she’s been cryin’ for attention – no wonder you’ve been such a bitch lately. Shoulda known it woulda been easier to just fuck the ‘tude out of you.” 

He pulled his hand out of you so he could toss you unceremoniously onto the bed, ripping your panties and pajama pants off the rest of the way. By the time he yanked your shirt up, your hands were covering your face in embarrassment.  “Nah, none of that shy shit.” He chided, easily gathering both your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Look at me, princess.” He used his free hand to force you to meet his gaze again. “You wanted this, remember? So you’re gonna be a good girl and watch while Daddy makes you feel good, understand?” You scrunched up your face in a glare again, still not wanting to give him the satisfaction of absolute obedience. The hand holding your face collided with your cheek in a sharp slap, making your tits bounce a little as you jerked with the motion. “You wanna keep that brat shit up and I’ll just fuck you raw instead, how about that?”  “W-wait no!” You exclaimed.  “S’what I thought.” Your step dad let go of your wrists so he could lift your lower half up, tossing one leg over his shoulder, tongue messily sliding up your slit before lapping at the bead of nerves. Like most things with Toji, he was quick, flicking his tongue side to side before circling it around your clit.  His hands dug into your hips with a bruising grip, you looked up catching the top of his head and eyes between your legs. Eyes squeezing shut in short-lived pleasure. “G-guah!” You made a sound, a mix between a moan and a yelp as you felt a lightly stinging slap to your pussy, eyes shooting back open.  “What did I say?” “T-to watch.” Another slap against your pussy made you squeal. “Then why were your eyes closed, hmm?” “‘M sorry!” Another one, this time angled just right that you managed to feel it against your clit too. “Wh-why?” “You’re sorry, what?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” You replied. “Good girl.” Praise from him was rare, and while it was dripping with sarcasm, you couldn’t help the way it made your chest flutter. He resumed his meal between your legs, messily slurping you into his mouth. Your body felt like it was burning up, pleasuring pulsing between your legs each time he applied pressure with his wet muscle to your clit. 

Your back arched in pleasure, legs kicking at his back as you came, hard. “Oh god.” You whined, not able to keep your eyes open this time as waves of pleasure rolled over you, through your stiffened muscles. Luckily, he didn’t seem to care this time, dropping your lower half down so he could wipe your slick from his chin with the back of his hand. 

Your eyes, half lidded, watched as he reached down, pulling himself free of his gray pants. You let out an audible surprised sound as you watched him stroke himself a few times. It was thick from tip to base, uncut with pearly beads of precum that dribbled onto your thigh with each stroke. He ran his thumb over the tip, hissing at the sensation before rubbing it along your bottom lip, letting you taste him. Greedily you sucked the digit into your mouth, grinding your hips up when you tasted the slightly bitter liquid.

“Shit. You’re fuckin’ cute, I’ll give you that.” He said, pulling his hand back to line himself up with your entrance. He pushed into you, grunting as your tight walls clenched around him. “Tight as hell too. Relax.” He groaned, sinking inch by inch into you until the tip of his cock pressed snuggly against your cervix. It was overwhelming how full you felt, like you’d be split in half if he were any bigger. 

Not one for patience he leaned forward, nearly folding you in half, as he slid out to the tip before slamming back in, watching as you writhed beneath him, gripping the sheets. Your pupils were blown, you could feel his breath against your face again with how close he was in this position.  “Look at you givin’ me those lovey dovey eyes. Want a kiss too?” He asked. “Please?” You nodded, letting go of the bedding to wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him. He obliged the request, pressing his lips to yours – rough and slightly chapped. He gave a few shallow thrusts while tangling your tongues together, pulling away just enough to give him a better angle to fuck into you harder.  “S’too much.” You croaked as he set a steady pace, brutally pumping himself inside of you. “S’too much.” You repeated, eyes scrunching shut, overstimulated between the stretch and speed of his movements. “S’okay, you can take it.” He replied, between movements.  You clung to him tightly, a fresh set of tears brimming at your eyes, toes curling with pleasure. “‘D-daddy.” You sobbed out, clawing at his back. Each time he sunk back into you, he hit a special spot, one so deep you’d never reach it on your own. It made stars sparkle on the back of your eyelids. 

“That’s m’girl, let it all out. Gonna fill this bratty little hole up, make sure she remembers who’s in charge, yeah? Gonna be a good girl from now on?” “Mhmm.” You replied, so close to your second orgasm. “Never be bad…nnng…again….” Your muscles tensed, the pressure exploding again as you cried out, second orgasm exhausting the last of your energy. Your velvety walls clamping down were enough to bring him to completion too, his cock twitching as hot cum spurted out, drooling into your spent hole. 

Eyelids heavy with exhaustion, you barely registered when Toji pulled out, or when he’d laid down next to you tucking you into his side. Your body naturally curled into his warmth, head sinking into the pillow as sleep pulled you under. 

It wasn’t until you heard the telltale sounds of arguing again did you even bother to crack one eye open. Megumi stood in the broken doorway, looking like steam was coming out of his ears. “What?” Toji asked lazily. “You didn’t want her goin’ with that guy, now she’s not. Problem solved.”  “Problem not solved –” He began, before you chucked a pillow at him again.  “Go away, Megumi.” You groaned, burying your face back into your step dad’s chest to resume your nap, too tired to feel any sense of shame or embarrassment in the moment. 

[esmedelacroix]

Way Too In Deep

✮⋆˙ in which exboyfriend!toji fushiguro sees you in a club...

cw ! bathroom sex, semi-public sex, mirror sex, daddy kink, spanking, mild degradation kink(lemme know if I missed any im having a brainfart rn)

a/n : ya'll iv'e been doing everything BUT writting✋😭 like. not my usual content and I lowk hate this an might rewrite but lets get whornee!

fic radio 💿🎧🫧 : Deep by Summer Walker

Strobe lights, smoke machines, shitty DJs, and even shittier guys. That's what clubs were to you. But your friends loved clubs so they put you in a short, tight dress that left nothing to the imagination, and a killer pair of heels. They dragged you to the Fallen Angel. How did your friends get you into a popular luxury club? You had no idea.

You were the designated sober friend who would drive everyone home(if they weren't already going home with their one-night stands). Meaning, you were stuck drinking mocktails and flirting with the bartender for the night. You forgot how much you missed clubbing though. The only true meaning you were so pessimistic, was that you hadn't been out since you broke up with your ex-boyfriend two months ago.

Who conveniently entered your line of sight across the room. You weren't going to sit and look like a loser now that he was here. You ordered a shot of tequila and downed it; enjoying the burning sensation in your throat. Luckily one of your favorite songs was playing, and your friends dressed you up like a hooker.

You needed to find a guy to dance with quick. You needed to prove to Toji that you were doing much better than he was. You only had to look at the poor victim you chose for the night and he was already yours. You let the music ignite you and guide your movements. Your back was flush against his as you ran your hands through your hair grinding against him. "My name's Shiu," the guy you were dancing with whispered in your ear.

"Cool, less talking, more touching," you said, guiding his hands to your hips.

"Yes, ma'am," he smirked as his hands tightened around your hips.

Your eyes were fixed on Toji burning holes into the back of his head. When Toji finally noticed you, you stared straight into his eyes as you mouthed the words to the lyrics and whined your hips against Shoe(whatever his name was). Toji looked irritated but impressed by the nerve you had to try and taunt him like that. Exactly what you wanted.

He took to the dance floor with one of his new girls. He spun her around and danced with her the same way you were dancing with Shiu. You could feel his manhood hardening against your ass. You weren't even dancing anymore, you were practically dry-humping on the dance floor. Miguel's eyes stayed fixed on you. Your body. Those eyes. Your sultry expression. Your mouth. Agape.

That set him off. As soon as you knew it, he was marching towards you with a mean scowl on his face. One blink and Toji's larger rough hand was firmly around your wrist dragging you away from Shiu. "Hey let go," you protested from behind with a satisfied smile on your face. Toji didn't answer. He simply grumbled under his breath, dragging you into the single-stall bathroom locking the door behind him.

"Just who do you think you are?" he asked with his hands on his hips.

"I don't know what you mean," you said feigning innocence.

"Really? 'Cause you were practically fuckin' that guy out there," he scoffed inching closer to you until your back crashed against the wall and faces were centimeters apart.

"No. I wasn't," you whined.

"Oh yeah. Don't lie to me baby you were doing it so I would look. I know it," he scoffed.

"Okay, maybe I was. I mean, even so, you wouldn—" you started before being cut off by his lips on yours. He kissed you like he was on his deathbed and you were the elixir of life. You moaned softly into his kiss.

Toji's hands found themselves wandering all over your body. They caressed your soft breasts. Your waist, and your ass. He gave your ass a squeeze. "Tell me you don't want this," he whispered.

You shook your head softly, draping your arms over the nape of his neck. "Give it to me Toji," you sighed in his ear. He could hear the sinister smile in your voice. With that confirmation, he lifted you your legs wrapping around his waist and placing you on the sink. He immediately kissed your neckline and jaw leaving fresh bruises all over the place.

Your fingers ran through his hair and tightened into fists full of his damp tufts of hair every time he sucked on your neck. "Tell me you don't want this baby and I'll stop," he grunted as he kissed down your cleavage.

"You bluffin' Fushiguro?" you smirked. He simply scoffed and let you hop off the sink. He moved you around by your waist so you could look at him through the mirror. "Look at you. You wanted this didn't you?" he smirked.

You smile at him through the mirror. "Maybe I did," you whispered. His rough hands bunched up the hem of your dress to your waist.

"You're still as slutty as ever," he snickered, as he bent you over the sink. Moving your thong aside, his calloused finger made sudden contact with your glossy slit. You let out a breathy moan at the sudden contact.

"How many guys have been in this pussy since we split, hmm?" he asked as he plunged a finger into your dripping sex.

"Lost count," you lied.

"You don't gotta lie to me ma," he grunted.

You hated how well he knew you. You hated how he knew you grinned when you lied. You hated that he knew you weren't over him and that he still owned you whether you liked it or not.

But he wondered if you knew you had the same effect on him. Wondered if you knew the girls were just a ploy to get you to notice him. Wondered if you knew how you occupied his every thought. How you had him in some sort of trance and he couldn't escape you being in his dreams. He didn't mind it though. He secretly loved how you haunted him whenever you were apart.

"I'm not lyin', I've been a bad girl," you breathed out as he managed to make you drip with just one finger.

"You know, if you want me to spank you, baby, all you gotta do is ask," he cooed as he added a second finger pumping in and out of your eager cunt at an agonizing pace.

"Don't try to taunt me. You'll regret it," he continued as he picked up the pace.

You feel little fireworks ignite in your stomach hearing his words. A feeling you missed dearly that only he could give you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he added a third finger. "Mhmm—Toji, t-too much," you whined.

"You like that?" he cooed as he curled his finger up into your spongy sensitive spot.

"Yeah!" you almost squealed, looking away from yourself in the mirror.

"Yeah?" he teased as he roughly gripped your jaw pointing your face towards it.

"Uh huh," you sighed as you felt the heat rush to your face as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Toji was peering into your soul with a nasty smile plastered on his face, watching your body's reactions to his touch. Your body's reactions to his lips on your neck, his other hand fondling your boob through your dress, and his glistening fingers slipping out of your sopping wet cunt.

You whined at the sudden empty feeling. "You're so needy tonight. You miss me baby?" he teased. You pouted at him through the mirror.

You couldn't help but shamelessly rub your ass against his crotch as he took his pants off. He taunted you rubbing his swollen tip against your wet folds. "Want you inside," you whined.

"Ask nicely baby," he groaned.

"Daddy please, need you inside," you moaned.

"Atta giiirl," he purred as he lazily pushed his fat tip into your cunt.

The stretch was better than anything you could've imagined. Your walls fluttered around his cock as he pushed even further into you bottoming out. It took everything in him to not cum right away. He focused on his breathing tilting his head back trying to keep it all in.

You were growing impatient and brattier by the second. You moved your hips fucking into him eliciting a guttural groan. His hands roughly came to your hips bringing your movements to a full halt. "Behave yourself," he grunted as he bent you further over the sink back arching. He fucking into you slowly and all you could do was squeeze your eyes shut trying not to cum.

"Look at me when I fuck you, baby," he grunted as he picked up the pace.

That sensation of tiny explosions in your stomach came back causing your pussy to flutter around him. You were moaning uncontrollably. It was all too much, the stretch, the sweat, the music blasting, the dirty talking, and the finger he roughly lodged in your mouth to shut you up. "M'close Toji, needa cum, please~" you moaned

"You gonna cream on daddy's cock baby?" he cooed rubbing your puffy clit as his thrusts increased in speed.

"Yes, yes! Just l-like that Toji," you gasped.

It was all perfect: his pace, the hand placement, his finger rapidly rubbing at your aching clit. All of it was enough to make you come undone on his fat throbbing cock.

And that you did. Hard. If your knees weren't already weak, they were now. Your legs rapidly convulsed as you creamed around Toji's cock. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head; all you could see was white. Toji kept pumping in and out of your pussy as you came, fucking you through your high.

You were babbling incoherent praises as you came down from your high. "I'm gonna cum baby where do you want it?" he panted as he pulled out, continuing to pump himself trying to imitate the irreplaceable feeling of her pussy.

"Should I cum on those pretty tits?" he grunted smirking as you whimpered nonsense.

"Or maybe this perfect ass?" he suggested as his hips began to buck into his fist.

"Anywhere, anywhere—please just," you whimpered.

"Please what? Use your words, baby," he groaned.

"My face," you shamefully whispered.

"Huh?" Toji teased as you turned around getting on your knees looking up into his emerald green eyes.

"I want you to cum on my face, daddy," you pouted.

"There you go open up for me baby," he groaned as hips stuttered fucking into his fist. You immediately obeyed his command, opening your mouth for him, sticking out your tongue, and looking up at him the way he liked.

"Atta giiirl," he moaned, throwing his head back.

You tasted his salty cum on your tongue and you were hooked again. You were in deep. Way too in deep.

[beesspacedotorg]

bee what about calling chan daddy for the first time??

hihi. uhm. putting warnings is too hard. i hope u enjoy ems <3

warnings: oral (m rec), daddy king (duh), uh. tbh there probably should've been more discussion about what's going on here before it happened but there wasn't gender neutral reader as usual

You’ve been fussing at him all day. To be honest, you’re not even sure why, you’ve just been having a bad time and Chan managed to be in the right place at the wrong time and now he’s contracted your ire. It’s unfair to him, and a part of you knows this, but a larger part of  you is pissed off that he’s breathing so fucking loud, so you’ll just apologize later.

“Baby, are you planning on doing the dishes today or-”

“God, can you shut up?!” There’s a moment where you both stare at each other in shock. You don’t yell at each other. Chan raised his voice at you once before and you cried so hard you almost threw up, and after that you both agreed the two of you wouldn’t let it get to that point ever again. You don’t yell at each other, and yet, your voice has raised to dangerous decibels because your boyfriend asked you about the dishes.

“Okay, what is your problem?”

“Problem? I don’t have a problem.” That is not what was supposed to come out of your mouth. You know it, and Chan especially knows it, because he raises an eyebrow at you from where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Are you sure? Because you just yelled at me.”

“I didn’t yell.”

“Then what do you call that? Speaking with purpose?”

“Yes. Speaking with purpose. You’re also doing the exact opposite of what I told you to do anyway.” Chan brings his hands to his head to rub his temples, and for a second you think you’ve gone a step too far. You’re ready to apologize to him, to inform him that somewhere between the dishes and now your anger has been replaced with a weird eagerness for him and that maybe you should’ve apologized for yelling at him before starting to play a horny game, but he takes a step towards you before you can open your mouth.

“You have two seconds to apologize to me.” Chan’s voice is tense, a voice you’ve heard people describe as his “leader voice.” You would describe it as something else, but you’re not that brave, so you haven’t yet.

You stare at him instead of apologizing, blinking once and then twice at him. You watch as he clenches his jaw and see the tick of his muscle in real time.

“Okay. Fine.” Oh, you’re fucked. Literally. He grabs your arm and bodily hauls you off the couch. You knew what he was going to do, and you go along with it, so luckily he doesn’t chuck you across the living room.

“Chan.” He keeps dragging you towards your bedroom. “Chan.” You’re pretty sure he’s not listening on purpose. “Christopher.”

“God,” he starts, and you know how his sentence is going to finish before it’s fully out of his mouth, “can you just shut up?” Hearing your own words parroted back at you makes you frown.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Why not? That’s how you were talking to me earlier.” You roll your eyes at him and open your mouth to respond and then he’s kissing you well enough that you don’t care anymore.

“Baby, I wasn’t kidding. That mouth has gotten you in enough trouble, why don’t you just keep it shut, hmm?” You frown at him again, brows furrowing and he pushes you onto your knees and sits on the bed. You stare up at him from your spot on the floor, lips still downturned and then he’s fishing his cock out of his shorts and yanking you towards him by your hair.

“Hey! Let go!” You reach up and dig your nails into his wrist and he grunts at you.

“What is your problem today?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Sure.” He brings your face closer to his dick. “Suck.” You shut your mouth with a click of your teeth and when you look up at him you can see that he’s thrown his head back in exasperation.

“Jesus, why are you being like this?” You cross your arms over your chest and you hear him sigh. His hand untangles itself from your hair to press at the hinge of your jaw, forcing it open until he can slip fingers inside your mouth and open you up for himself.

“Ow-” Your muffled protest is cut off by the heft and weight of Chan’s cock being shoved into your mouth. You aren’t insane enough to bite him, but you are insane enough to not move. You’re unsure why, but there’s something in you that wants to push him and see what he’ll do, see just how far you can annoy your sweet, lovely Channie until he becomes something else entirely.

“You’re doing this on purpose.” You can’t help the way your lip twitches into a smirk from where it’s wrapped around the girth of Chan’s dick, can’t help the way it takes you a second to school your expression into something bored and uninterested. Chan sees it though, because of course he does. Sees the way your eyes widened for a second when you got caught before flattening out. You hear him huff a laugh, finally catching on, before he’s dragging one of your hands to rest on his thigh and taking your head between his palms.

“Fine.”

He starts a rough pace right off the bat. Doesn’t give you any time to adjust before his cockhead is ramming cruelly against the back of your throat. You gag, drool bubbling past your lips, down your chin, dripping onto the floor. Your hand lifts off his thigh for a moment, taken aback, and his pace slows. He pulls halfway out of your mouth and then you put your hand back on his leg like nothing happened and he’s back to using his cock as a battering ram to your throat.

“Kept mouthing off,” he grunts, slightly out of breath. “You and I both know that this is all your little mouth is good for.”

He keeps on like that until you’re crying, until tears are slipping down your cheeks and your nose is running a little. Uses you as nothing more than a fleshlight until your eyes are red rimmed and your knees are sore. He pulls out and tilts your head back to look into your eyes. Your head is swimming from the lack of oxygen and your vision is blurry from tears and something else. He looks at your face and down at the floor and his cock twitches.

“Made a mess,” he scoffs, derisive. “Are you done?” You whine at him, you have no idea what he’s asking anymore. He shakes your head a little.

“Brat. I asked you a question.”

“Channie- daddy.” Your voice is hoarse and wobbly, your hands are grabbing at his thighs and you're leaning your weight into him. You hear him inhale sharply and suddenly the hands on your head shift from a grab to a cradle.

“Oh, baby.” He hauls you up into his lap. “Look at me.” You do, whatever Chan finds in your face makes him soft.

“Was that all you needed, sweetheart? Was for daddy to set you straight.” You nod at him and he coos.

“Daddy’s not done yet, baby.” You whine. He laughs. “You gave me a hard time there, honey. A bit of face fucking isn’t gonna make that up to me, you know that.”

You do know that. It isn’t gonna stop your pout though. Chan sees your face and laughs.

“Lay on your back,” he says. “Maybe if you apologize well enough, I’ll give you a reward after.”

[stargirlfics]

So Much Goddamn Talkin’

Joel Miller x Black F!Reader

Summary: Sometimes Joel has to quiet the noise in your head. Luckily he’s quite good at that.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, post outbreak—Jackson era, mutual pining, friends to lovers vibe, established relationship, some mentions of anxiety, feelings and fluff, competency kink, soft dom!joel vibes, smut: oral (both receiving), fingering, soft intense PiV, unprotected sex, praise kink, daddy kink, come marking

*reader is written and described as black but anyone is welcome and encouraged to read!

Word Count: 6k

Currently obsessed with the thought of older, domestic Joel in a relationship and couldn’t stop myself from getting carried away! Enjoy!

It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d ever spoken to Joel.

On the contrary, what had started as a timid friendship became something else entirely with one spontaneous kiss that only the stars bore witness to that night. 

A silly dream of romance had landed right in your lap despite the crumbling of the old world behind you, taking everything with it and yet they took your breath away constantly, like a whirlwind, two grounding anchors were now tethered to your heart and their names were Joel and Ellie. 

So why were you so nervous? 

Sighing softly, you decided to blame it on the watchful glances Joel was giving you from across the yard, distracting you from the book you were reading. Eye contact with him could feel like the most searing heat, spreading like wildfire and at the same time the deepest depths of comfort. 

Not always being a man of many words, the things he could express with a simple look or the weight of a hand fascinated you, made you fall so dangerously hard and with a certainty you’d never felt before. 

Therefore you reasoned it simply couldn’t be your fault for being distracted and wanting him so much right now. Not when he made you feel this way without even having to try very hard. 

You just needed to take a moment to soak it all in, a blooming hope carried in on the breeze now that it was the beginning of spring in Jackson, the wildflowers and planted seeds starting to sprout, and the soil and your own souls teeming with life after so long spent just surviving. Now there was space for healing. 

Space for you to sit in the rocking chair Joel had worked on for months as a birthday present to you, or watch him get around to all the house projects (because once a contractor always a contractor) and strum out the prettiest chords on his guitar late in the evenings out on the porch. 

This felt more like living and you never wasted a moment to covet it. 

“You’re doing an awful lot of staring, Miller.” You looked up from the same page for the fifth time to catch him already looking your way. 

He blinked and put another nail into the wood post he was working on. 

“Hm, well damn right I am when you look the way you do. Now if I told you it’s been at least ten minutes since you’ve turned a page in that book you just might have to admit you’ve been starin’ too.” 

There was that little smirk you knew so well, dancing on his lips as if he knew just how much it would drive you crazy, the confirmation that you hadn’t been subtle in the slightest either. 

“Well, you’re out here giving me a show.” You make a point to turn to the next page then, looking away before he could throw you a look at the sass in your tone. 

He was right of course but what he didn’t know was that reading had started all this to begin with. 

The tattered novel had been a surprise find on a patrol one day and came with an unexpected eroticism, bits of dialogue and tantalizing imagery on the page you were stuck on making your mind wander and wonder. 

It’s why you felt a little nervous, caught off guard, suddenly wishing you were in bed and underneath him. 

He flashes his teeth at you, that smirk widening into a smile at your reply, his attention returning to the tools in his hands but your own continued to linger. Remembering. 

A few nights before in particular, when he was fucking into you so deep you had to bite the sheets to keep your moans down. You could still picture the definition of his arms as they cradled you and kept the headboard from colliding into the wall at the same time. 

Or how good you knew it felt when his broad palms swat across your ass, never failing to make you yield to him with such eagerness. 

You wished you could have your hands on him now, petting, feeling, showing him how much he was desired and cared for, how much you wanted to be filled by him, stretched out and aching with nothing but his name in your mind and on the tip of your tongue for hours.

Those stray thoughts had you turning back a page, leaning into the slow burning fire lit underneath you. 

Still unsure of how to initiate these desires, you didn’t want to distract him from something he’d been trying to get around to doing for awhile and at the same time felt a thrill at the idea of tugging him away, leading him to bed. 

With some hesitation you decided to bide your time for a bit longer, getting caught up in words that made you squirm imagining Joel doing and saying them. 

God, you weren’t sure how much more of this you could keep up, feeling the slick pooling of arousal between your thighs, the way you wanted to grind against nothing already. 

Joel finished repairing the post in no time and moved on to patch up a hole in the wall of the old shed, unaware of your internal dilemma. 

Eventually he gathered up his tools and stored them away, told you he was gonna head in and wash up but that you should keep relaxing out here for as long as you wanted and he’d get started on preparing things for dinner later. 

He left you with a kiss to your temple and the lingering familiarity of his touch. Handsome and sweet, he was going to be the death of you. 

Your mind felt too restless to keep sitting but you took him up on the suggestion just for awhile longer, trying to find the right way to move things in the direction you wanted. Family dinner wasn’t for another four hours and Ellie would be here a bit early but there was still time and you wanted to make the most of it. 

So you finished off another chapter and finally closed the novel, ushered inside with the echo of birdsongs and the steady thumping of your heart in your ribs. 

–

Joel had been so sure you hadn’t noticed his repeated stares as much as he’d noticed yours, bowing his head under the warm spray of the shower he could only think of how pretty you looked sitting there while he worked, fond of the fact that you liked to be next to him even if he was occupied.  

At first he couldn’t wrap his head around it and was almost too unnerved and bewildered by the fact that you took such an interest. 

Not at all used to someone touching him or looking at him like he was their entire world but that’s the only way you looked at him and as much as he had tried to be measured, tried not to get attached, he had come around to the idea of a relationship again. 

Loving people was frightening, something he felt he’d lost the ability to do properly after all these years, all the blood staining his hands and his conscience.

He had lost so much, seen too much death and feared he would only bring ruin, that he would lose her too, until you came along and turned everything he thought he knew on its head. 

Oh what secrets and stories of loss he had told you in the quiet of night, when old nightmares and new guilts collided and kept him from sleeping though that was much less these days now that you slept by his side every night. 

It had been a long time since he’d shared his bed and now it made him smile thinking of how natural it felt to wake up next to you, how easy it was to be around you, in the quiet moments he could see how the foundations you’d both built together had been made solid and steadfast over time. 

Silly to think how he fretted over ruining his friendship with you all that time ago, the way everyone was sick of him in the days leading up to when he would finally ask if you were interested because they all knew he had nothing to worry about and those worries in his head were swiftly put to rest when you tugged at his shirt to pull him closer and asked what had taken him so long.

He’d never forget that moment. 

Joel thought then that this was the moment he knew but quickly learned there would actually be a collection of moments–several times a day–that would remind him just how hooked on you he really was.

Like the times he showed his age and your sweet giggles and clever retorts always followed soon after, or how much he’s come to love the summertime because your brown skin basked in the sunlight is like art to him and he relishes every chance he gets to see you exactly as you are.

You brought a fullness and meaning to life here, encouraging him to slow down, to breathe. Taking care of one another made him stronger, nourished in ways he didn’t think were possible.  

“Honey.”

He grits the word out like he’s trying to call you up here, reminded of how lucky he felt to have you, to be so connected.

Watching you walk around batting your eyes acting like you don’t know that it’s the pretty, round edges of your nose, the smile lines, the plush of your hips and that glowing thing inside you beating in your chest that drives him crazy. 

Simply put, he was impressed by you. Constantly. You could handle yourself, skilled in your own right, already handy with weapons long before he was in your life and even more proficient now, deadly, with the things he’d taught you since. 

You were resourceful and calm in tricky situations or when quick medical training was needed and yet none of the carnage of infected and worse terrors ever changed the soft way you tended to people, almost like you couldn’t help but give a little extra love. 

And you had certainly spared many an ounce of that love for him; he’d forgotten how good it felt to smile this much over someone, can’t remember the last time he felt this way and definitely can’t remember the last time he’s seen his Ellie look at someone with such admiration either. 

Everything about you captured his attention and he was grateful to be able to live some sort of life again after so much heartache, after believing he could never have these kinds of things for himself. 

Those hands of his could scorch the Earth but you made him understand they could build things too, could show love and give pleasure just as well and just as fiercely. 

Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he was doing a good job of it. 

All he knew was that he never wanted to let you go and that was enough for him. 

–

When you venture into the bedroom you find him getting dressed, hair tousled from being towel dried, another wave of aching bloomed in your core as you thank yourself for having nudged him into letting it grow out a bit during the colder months. 

He looked so handsome doing nothing at all in particular you were sure you’d implode if you didn’t just come out with it, you just hope he wouldn’t mind doing some undressing again. 

“Hey, honey.” 

His voice was low and gentle, the familiar pet name in his usual smooth rasp made you stride forward, sending you surging into his arms so that you were squished against his chest. He tilted his head at you just slightly in question before you were pressing your lips to his.

Your mouths met so tenderly at first, fingertips bursting with a nervous energy as they reached for his shirt, grasping needily as you lost yourself in the slow ease of the way he kissed you back.

But a little spark of anxiety makes you tense, overthinking the kiss, feeling a little silly for just how turned on you were, how much he could see it written all over you, dripping quite literally in desperation even if you tried to reason with yourself that you knew there wasn’t anything wrong with that. 

“J-Joel…shit,” you whined and huffed through sloppy kisses, slowly finding yourself being walked backwards and held firm against the closest wall, “Oh…we don’t have to do this if-” 

“The hell are you goin’ on about?” Joel grumbled against the column of your neck and all ability to articulate went out the window.

Rationally you knew it was a pretty good indication he wasn’t bothered by the spontaneity from the way those strong hands of his were already underneath your shirt, pinching almost in the haste to grip your flesh but you were already overthinking and it held persistent. 

“Just…if you’re tired, I understand. We can wait till tonight. I don’t want you to feel obligated.” Your words were huffed out in nervous gasps, trying to will your knees not buckle when his scruff teased a swipe across your jaw. 

Joel pulled back then so you’d have to look at him, knowing the anxious flit of your lashes well. 

He knew what to watch for, patient when you needed reassurance that you were free to run wild with your desires, that he was never tired of having you bare and wrapped around him at any hour of the day but this was of no consequence, he’d make sure you knew where he stood.

Shaking his head, he doesn’t give you more than a moment to suck in a breath before his hands leave your waist to hold your face. 

“So much goddamn talkin’, sweetheart,” the words are a heavy growl against your lips in between heavier kisses, “Think I need to remind you of some things and put those thoughts out of your mind, yeah?” 

Your whole body felt hot, flushed with desire and aching for whatever he was going to do to remind you, nodding before your tongue could catch up with your agreeing thoughts. 

“Let me show you.” Joel caged you in against the wall, broad shoulders blocking everything else out. 

The steady rise and fall of his chest became your focal point and new arousal sparked at his attentiveness, so easily able to soothe, to make you unravel for him. 

“Please, I want you so much.” Your softly sighed plea turned into a whine when you were crushed to his chest again and this time there were no reservations to the embrace.

He was so good at this, making you burn for him so often you wondered sometimes how you were able to get anything done.

Hungry fingers pushed the collar of his flannel back, jeans already unbuttoned for your wandering attention to latch onto and he encouraged it with a push of his hips against yours. 

It’s an easy movement, dropping to your knees like you’ve done a hundred times before to see how just a simple kiss already had him stiff and straining against denim, teasing the kind of thickness you so badly wanted to fill your throat with. 

Your mouth watered, fingers outstretched to wrap around hot skin the moment his cock was free, unable to stop yourself now. Joel’s rough sigh following the steady pump of your hands made you glance up, meeting the intensity of his gaze and you held it there for a moment before your tongue was tasting him. 

“Look at you...already have it in your mouth like the quick learner you are,” He hissed through his teeth and you could feel where he throbs against the hollow of your cheek. 

Pride swells in your chest from the praise, knowing the tone of his voice meant the restrained edge of patience from letting you tease him back was slipping.

You could feel it in the flex of muscle underneath your hands where they’re braced on his thighs and you hoped he was proud watching your lips stretch around him, head bobbing nice and easy the way you know he liked it.

You’re unconcerned with being neat about it, slicking him up with your mouth and still trying to take him deeper, trying to take all of him in fact. 

You liked to flirt with dreams of your nose being pressed snug against Joel’s pelvis, wanted to feel him through your entire chest even if burned because there was sweetness in being deprived of oxygen like that. Call it an unwavering trust. 

You gave in to the feeling and kept your eyes focused upwards on him, trying to relax your jaw despite all the anticipation, happy to let him take control. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl. Stay just like that.” 

Listening is hardly even a thought when you’ve hung onto his every word, every movement, not minding the strain in your jaw as he rocked his hips into the wet heat of your mouth. Tongue swirling over his shaft, the thick head of him, desperate to earn it, to make him curse and growl out your name. 

The pressure of his fingers against your jaw and then the back of your head had you moaning, trying to speak while he fucks your mouth. 

“P-please, make me take it.” Your heart lept with each languid thrust of his hips sliding deep so he could feel the softening of your throat.

He’d give you whatever you asked for when you whimpered like that. 

Firm and sweet was his grip, raspy grunts and cursed out praises that flowed from his mouth even sweeter to your ears as your tongue slid over the soft, sensitive head of his cock and back down the length of him. 

You’re insatiable and any anxious thoughts still rattling around in your mind were quickly fading, replaced with his touch, his smell, his taste. The salty smear on your taste buds had you pressing your thighs together, craving relief.

“Good girl, yeah that’s it. Startin’ to understand now, sweetheart?” 

Your head tipped forward and the only response you could give was a heady moan, doing your best to nod knowing how much he’d like seeing that, the tears already welling along your lashes from the effort but you didn’t mind.

Knowing you made him tip his head back, a heavy palm braced against the wall above your head while he grunted out curses and filthier praise made you feel a dozen more times ravenous, encouraging him to keep going with sloppy, wet whimpers that were barely held back from your kiss swollen lips, stretched over every thick inch of him you could take. 

“Love watching you choke on it, honey. Fuck that's good, show me how much you can fit.” 

The sight of him is something you hoped to never forget, searching for and finding the slight snarl of his lips when the tip hits the back of your mouth and the flex of his biceps when you slide your tongue around to lick the underside of him. 

Joel could barely hold himself back, the urge to bury himself in your throat almost overwhelming but he wanted more than that, he wanted to reward you for listening so well, for how much you make him feel.  

It had been building all day and he knew you had to feel it too. He was loath to pull you off his cock, an ache through his chest at your desperate cries from the loss of contact but he was quick to remedy that with a searing kiss.  

You melt and are grateful your knees are already on the floor when your tongue meets his. It was so messy, hungry and neither of you cared. 

“Get on the bed. Go on, darlin’.” Joel’s voice sounded like warm syrup, covering you in adoring instruction, taking you and leading you where he knows is best. 

And god do you love when he was in this mood, nothing but a filthy edge to his affections. 

So you complied, ignoring the twinge in your tummy as you moved to the bed, sprawling out across sheets that smell like the both of you. 

He watches you get comfortable, loosening a few buttons and those jeans finally discarded on the floor before the distance is closed and he’s all over you. 

Every touch and caress was intentional as he undresses like he’s unwrapping a present, greedy for all of you but so passionate, so easily able to steal your breath at the same time, slowing down the tempo now that your legs have fallen open and there’s nothing left covering you. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy…and she’s all mine.” Joel admires you for a moment, firm hands tickling your thighs while his thumbs circled the soft, sensitive junction of your thigh so close to where you wanted him most. 

The praise has you sighing breathlessly, peeking down to see the way he was looking at where you glisten, a sureness to his features that made you feel safe all while the clench of his jaw sent goosebumps across your arms.

You want to echo that he’s right but he doesn’t let you have the chance, a broad palm sliding down over the hair covering your mound, tugging at it gently before two thick fingers are swirling over your folds. 

Muscles jolting, you were rocking up into a touch that is so expert and familiar you are helpless against it.

“Joel, oh! That feels so good,” You’re panting, trying to catch your breath while your body responds to the tight circles he was rubbing against your clit.

“Yeah? ‘Can tell. You’re so slick, honey. Did suckin’ me off get you this worked up?” 

Your nod is pure reflex, hips grinding against his movements needing to chase the pleasure that was slowly oozing its way into your system. 

It’s only something he can do and he’s so steady, so thorough with you even as you squirm, those two fingers now stroking at your entrance eliciting sounds that sparked heat in your cheeks and spread down to your chest. 

You want to be as connected to him as you can, almost pleading for him to sink inside you already just desperate to feel completely surrounded by him. 

And Joel can’t seem to grasp enough of you under his hands, gone for the way you cling to him as he fits his middle finger inside, marveling at the way your walls take him in. 

He would never get over your strangled little cry at being stretched around his knuckles. 

“I asked a question, lemme hear you.” He spoke a little more loosely, his Texan drawl slightly heavier now. 

“Yes, yes,” you’re remembering yourself after a moment, “Fuck, yes I love sucking your dick.” 

The words are shameless, falling from your lips as a promise, a proclamation that you know he feels the weight of when he leans in to kiss you again, muffling your sounds while he slides a second finger in alongside the first that’s filling you so perfectly. 

Any concept of time or day is somewhere in the background muted, far away and suddenly you know you’re right where you should be, right where you belong, no traces of anxious thoughts lurking any longer.   

You could sink into these sensations now, enjoying how his kisses had moved to your neck exploring the sensitive spots and smiling against your skin when a new one is found because he loves feeling you clench around him when he does. 

It’s a gift to Joel, being able to draw out this kind of bliss in you. 

He wanted you to feel good, wanted to be the one to make your world shatter and then piece it back together again when you came down to the ground. 

Your eyes rolled shut when he plunged deeper, the pads of his fingers massaging at your walls in tandem with what his mouth was doing between the valley of your chest and further down to where your stomach fluttered. 

Somewhere in the haze of it all you realize his mouth was at your thighs, the white hot touch of his lips closing around a stretch of supple flesh bringing another wave of heat before he’s licking gently, bruising a mark into your skin that only he will know is there later. 

“I could spend hours like this, you know that? Could have you makin’ such a pretty mess all over my hands, all over our bed…and I know you love when I do this.” Joel husks before he’s finally tasting you properly. 

He starts at your clit, tongue flattened against you in anticipation of the inevitable flex of your legs, determined to keep you right where he wants and you’re already so far gone for him and this moment that your head tilts back against the pillows in a gasp. 

You feel almost weightless as you succumb to the pleasure and how he presses his mouth into your pussy like he wants to devour it. You’re sure you’d let him swallow you whole if it kept feeling like this. 

It’s not even a question really, you know you would, until you’re between sinew and bone and part of him forever. 

The plunge and curl of his fingers combined with the flick of his tongue had you panting, heat skittering across your body while your hips circled on their own accord.

“More! Please, Joel!” It’s a chant and a sob all rolled in one and you don’t care how needy it sounds. 

He keeps going, lapping at your sex greedily until you’re clenching down around his fingers and your toes are curling, crying out for him not to stop as you hurtle towards the cliff’s edge.

Skin dewy and alive, you decide that you don’t want to spare anything, not when he’s watching you as hungrily as he eats. 

You give him all your sounds, all your pleas, handing him your body and your heart at once. 

It’s amazing how it doesn’t take long for him to have you so close, right at the precipice, forgoing his own breaths to keep pace, to give you what your body is singing out for and when you finally let go, when your orgasm is finally coaxed from you he only presses his face into you further, drawing out every bit of pleasure he could in hopes of seeing that soft sweet look in your eyes afterwards.

“Attagirl, doin so well.” The words are a tether. 

He’d take care of you and that’s perhaps what made it so easy to surrender yourself to the passion of the moment knowing it would linger long after you were both spent. 

“Mmm you should see yourself right now,” Joel hummed, licking his lips while you attempted to catch your breath, “I always want you, don’t forget that yeah?” 

The last part catches your attention through the curtain of bliss, a serious shift in his tone telling you that he meant every word; you had no reason to second guess yourself over your desires and he was making sure of that. 

You nodded and sat up to reach for him, nevermind how you still trembled, your desire to be close to him was stronger than ever now. 

“I need you, Joel! Please, I’ve been so good…” Your words tug at him, you can tell they do by the way he ruts his hips against the edge of the bed. 

He crushed his mouth to yours before you could finish speaking, a much welcome relief, the burning flame inside you quelled for a moment. 

“Sure have been, honey and I think good girls should be rewarded.” He nipped at your ear, stealing your breath with his words. 

And even further when his flannel joined his jeans on the floor, climbing back onto the bed to follow the path of your body with his own, framing your limbs and wrapping you up in his embrace like you were made to fit against his chest. 

Your legs fall open again to wrap around his waist as he settles some of his weight down against your hips, just giving you a taste, calling back memories and reminding you, funnily enough, of that novel you were reading earlier. 

It felt like you were suddenly amongst the pages, chest heaving, your core tender and dripping as the man of your dreams was about to show you how much you’re his in every way.

Fairytales didn’t exist in this world but you felt like you were in one right now.

A giddy and timid smile spread across your face when Joel trailed warm hands down your body, catching on the bend of your elbow, wrapping around your ribcage to settle on the crest of your ass as he puts more of his weight down and uses his shoulders to nudge your legs apart and back towards your chest. 

The air felt thicker but your breathing seemed to even out, everything in your body thrumming with energy and an intensity neither of you could ignore any longer. 

Reaching down between your bodies you wrap a hand around where he’s thick and throbbing, guiding him closer with a soft smile, feeling how heavy he hangs in your hand, fingers pinching his skin when he rocks against your folds, the dirty sounds of his cock gliding through your stickiness. 

Joel groans against your forehead, holding himself steady as your hips buck into his touch, the tip pressing against your entrance and finally, slowly, sinking inside. 

Your moans are twined together in the quiet room. The stretch makes you keen, hands fumbling and grasping at strong shoulders, grateful he lets you have a moment to adjust. 

But it’s not long before you’re squirming again, whining for him to go deeper, to fill you to the hilt and he made good on his promises to do exactly that. 

He keeps your hips tilted up with the press of his palm underneath you, meeting little resistance the more he splits you open and it does something to him to see how much of a mess you are and he’s barely fucked you yet. 

“You can do it, know you can…there you go.” Joel pulls back to give a shallow thrust, lips brushing your temple and a hand coming up to cradle your cheek. 

The drag of his cock against your walls was everything, steady thrusts building up the tension coiling in your belly, fantasies from your novel melding with reality.

You felt like you were floating, your toes pointing when he changed the angle, brushing against a spot that had you crying out, ankles trying to lock around his torso.

Pressing heavier and faster with his hips however, your legs stay spread, the beginnings of a tremble rippling through your muscles now that he’s caught on. 

His pace remained measured and deep, just the way you were begging for it, and he’s content to watch your brows pinch, your jaw slacken, content to hear every gasp of air and pretty sobs  mixed in with your moans driving him crazy every time they slip from clenched teeth. 

“Shit, I love watching you take me like this.” He cooed. 

You can feel the heavy slap of his balls colliding with your ass when he pounds into you again and soon your hands slip from sweaty skin, scratching down his chest to pull at the sheets, so overwhelmed with feeling but never wanting it to stop.

“Daddy...Please, please keep going.”

You’re so caught up in the moment you don’t realize you’ve said it out loud, glassy eyes moving up from where you were trying to peek between your bodies to meet Joel’s careful gaze, only half registering how they widen for a moment. 

He’s taken aback for just a second, almost questioning whether he heard it correctly but something’s been knocked loose within him now, his cock twitching from the reverence and adoration in your tone, bestowing him with a title he suddenly wanted to earn. 

Joel was a grown man and had lived through many hells to be able to have you bare and underneath him like this, he reasoned he deserved to have a little fun in the bedroom especially when he hadn’t expected to be so affected.

“Ah so that’s what you’ve been reading in that book of yours. Just wanted Daddy to fuck you all day is that it, sweetheart? Yeah, I gotcha now.” He rasped low against the crook of your neck and started to fuck you harder. 

His grip on you was less gentle but still just as passionate, the force of his thrusts stealing your ability to think properly. He wanted to make you say it again. 

The burning in your cheeks only subsided a little at his acceptance, more heat flooding you from head to toe at being called out, wondering how he knew it was something you read in your novel, if it had been that obvious. 

It didn’t matter now, you see where his dark eyes have narrowed, ready to make you come again with this newfound discovery. 

So you try and be good for him while you moan and clench down on his length, your pussy swollen and aching but tingling for everything he could give you, “Yes, daddy! Just…oh! I couldn’t help it. Thank you, daddy!” 

He knows you’re close, a familiar frenzy to your breathing, the slick wet sounds between your legs, it’s everything he dreams of and more, torn between watching your face as you come or watching the way his cock shines with your release. 

With a few more strokes and the soft rubbing of his thumb against your clit you shatter, face pressing against the meat of his shoulder while you ride it out, feeling weightless in his embrace. 

It makes you giggle when you can’t keep your head up any longer, neck lolling back against the pillow where he cradles your head in his hands, keeping you in place as he finds his own release swiftly after yours, pulling out to cover your puffy folds in hot ropes of his come. 

You would never tire of being made a mess, even if you knew you’d be sore tomorrow, nothing quite ever beat the feeling of being fucked out like the way Joel could have you.

“Baby…” you’re breathless and bursting with emotion, “Thank you for that. Think I really needed it,” You laugh against his chest and sigh.

You’re almost too nervous still to look at him after your slip of the tongue but you know deep down there’s nothing you have to be worried about. 

“Of course, honey. Anytime, and I mean that.” 

–

You’re not sure how much time has passed, drifting in and out of a dreamy slumber still cradled against Joel, only now you realize you’ve been cleaned up and tucked under the covers but you don’t mind, you know you can simply lay here and soak it all in, he would take care of you. 

Racing thoughts no longer buzz around in your head, all you can feel and see is Joel and you smile to yourself knowing the intimacy you just shared still lingered in your body, love etched in your fingertips where they’re laced in his hand against his stomach. 

His lips press against your temple and you close your eyes again letting yourself be swept away with the sweet drawl of an “I love you.” in your ears and the gentle evening sun warming you both.

—

A/N: This was actually lowkey inspired by that scene where Joel is leading Ellie, Henry and Sam down the street after they come out of the tunnels and Joel just shakes his head and goes “so much goddamn talkin’.’ while looking like an annoyed father because they’re all being too loud…got very hung up on that bit of dialogue and could not let it go so here we are!

Also hope I added the daddy kink bit here in tastefully, it’s a fave of mine and I struggled a bit to think of how to incorporate it in a way that felt real for Joel so I only just dipped my toe in with it here but I hope you liked it! 👀

Thank you for reading <3

some no pressure tags! 💫 @eupheme @ozarkthedog @moreofem @tinydramatist @black-fairy3 @federalchickensoup @fluffyprettykitty @persona-enthusiast @moonstruksandco @ghotifishreads @communism-bitches

[brailsthesmolgurl]

WHERE'S MUMMY? PT.2

My first part has received an amazing amount of response, hence I decided that I would come out with a part two, and who knows? Maybe this could be another mini series for the boys? :)))) Regardless, enjoy the read!

Warnings: Comfort and Fluff, Slight Angst for some parts. Mentions of smexy times for one, suggestive for another. ANONS ARE POOPY SOMETIMES BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN I WILL STOP WRITING SUGGESTIVE HAHA :(

RAFAYEL & MARIELA

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Mariela's voice could be heard from the other room at the end of the hallway as she called out to her father. Rafayel, who was busy working on one of his art pieces, dashed towards her room at full speed, panicking at how she was calling out to him. He slammed the door open, claymore ready to be withdrawn only to find his daughter on the floor, with paint all over her face and the canvas that he had provided to her.

One may ask why did Rafayel left his daughter all alone in her room while he was working on his art piece. Rafayel, being a good father, had coaxed his daughter for 30 minutes, with candies and also anything she could possibly want, only to be rejected by her. Her adamant 'NO's made Rafayel confused as to why she would want to paint alone in her room. 'I can do this myself daddy' was the last sentence she told him before she closed the door. And he wondered where she got the attitude from, and he had a good guess probably inherited from her independent mother.

So Rafayel sat at the living room, in his usual thinking corner, painting his artwork, but also carefully listening to anything that might go on in the room. He did tried and checked up on her a couple of minutes ago, knocking on her door and asking if she would like any biscuits with milk but the young child only replied 'NO' as if that is the only word she knew for the morning.

"I thought something happened to you, my little fishie." Rafayel sighed in relief, walking over to her to look at what she had drawn. He took a seat next to her and looked at her face. "How did you managed to get paint on both the canvas and your face?" He pulled the little girl into his lap and he chuckled, using his thumb to try and rub the paint off of her face and luckily it came off pretty easily. He silently thanked your effort in purchasing non-toxic paints for Mariela.

"I wanted to do it like how daddy do it." Her smile was angelic, one of Rafayel's trademark. She reenacted how she did it, by drawing air circles on her palm and on her face. "I drew here, and here and..." She flattened her palms and plopped her face onto the surface of her palms. Rafayel was in shock at her creativity.

"So you used your hands and your face as tools to draw?" He tilted his head and when the toddler nodded giddily, Rafayel pinched her cherubic cheeks. "You are an artist just like me. No wonder you're my daughter." He kissed her cheeks and carried her up in his arms. "Now, let's get you washed up and then we will show this piece to mummy when she is back from work okay?"

"OKAY!" She cheered, both arms flying up into the air and Rafayel laughed, bringing her into the bathroom to wash her off from the mess she had brought upon herself.

The roars of your motorbike could be heard and that led Mariela to jump off of the couch, with Rafayel catching up behind her quickly. "Mummy's home!" Mariela was elated, trying to turn the door knob the best she could but with her size and strength, she is not able to. Rafayel came to the rescue on time and he opened the door, smiling when he spotted you getting off of your motorbike and unclasping the buckle of your helmet, swiftly removing the headgear and placing it on your motorbike's seat. "Mummy!"

"Hey there sweetie!" You called out and shuffled over, arms wide opened and your daughter embraced you within your arms. "How was your day today hmm?"

The latter question of yours was directed towards your husband, who was standing against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his torso while watching both of his favourite women walking towards him. "It was good because there is a surprise." He winked at you and you both shared a peck, before heading in. "Mariela, do you want to show mummy what you drawn today?"

"Yeah! Yeah!" The little girl wriggled out of your arms smoothly and she waddled off to her room. You took a seat on the marble floor and awaited for your daughter's return. Rafayel taking a seat right next to you and he encircled his arms around your waist, giving your side a soft knead. The soft sound of thuds closing in when your daughter came out from her room, with something behind her back. "Mummy close your eyes."

Your husband then got behind you and he used his palms to cover your eyes, nodding towards your daughter to proceed further. Mariela pulled the canvas out from behind her and she placed it in your lap, before taking your hand cautiously and put it on her canvas. Rafayel released his hold on your face and you looked down, gasping in surprise at what your daughter had managed to colour on her canvas. But, you can't make out any shapes or sizes, other than two hand prints of hers and what seems to be an imprint of your daughter's face.

"This is so nice of you sweetie." You pulled her in for a hug and kissed her head. "Did you do this with your hands and face?" You asked just to be sure and her reaction made you stared at Rafayel. The actual artist staring back at you, shrugging his shoulders and muttering something along the lines of 'she did not want me to see what she was doing, so I left her to her own creativity'.

"Abstract art is great!" Rafayel smiled, ruffling his daughter's brunette curls which had grown a bit longer. "Daddy can put this in the next exhibition and you can go with me to see it." Rafayel looked at his daughter and she cheered, hugging you tightly and you beckoned your husband in for a hug as well.

On the day of the exhibition, Rafayel was busy attending to the guests, completing his interviews and taking pictures with his fans. You are spending time with Mariela, hand holding hers as the both of you walked through the exhibition halls. Pink and blue and purple, all colours within the same spectrum covered the walls in forms of splatters, lace ribbons were tapered to the ceilings, to add on a touch of elegance. No doubt your husband has 'extravagance' as his middle name.

Almost every corner is littered with his artworks, ranging from abstract to rough sketches, to impressionism paintings to sculptures. Rafayel is a master to all types of artworks, which gained him the fame and respect he has gotten till now. The wooden flooring resonated the sound of your footsteps, heels clacked against it in sync. You looked down at your daughter to notice the little girl has her mouth agaped, staring at all of her father's artworks in awe. Same, Mariela, same.

"Is that the daughter he had mentioned about?" A distant voice could be heard echoing from the end of the hallway and you turned around, seeing a woman clad in a formal outfit, hair neatly tied back and a microphone in her hand. A camera man right behind of her with one of his huge video cameras situated on his shoulder. "Hi, can we do an interview?"

Out of politeness, you agreed, smiling and nodding your head and the reporter crew started to approach you and your daughter. You lowered yourself down to carry Mariela up into your arms so that she could be within the shot as well, assuming the reporter would like a word or two with the renowned artist's daughter.

"How would you describe living with Rafayel, a famous artist?" The reporter held out the mic to you, awaiting for your response.

"Uhm...living with Rafayel has always been a pleasant one, as he does take care of me and my daughter's needs." You replied, a smile coming forth. "He is a good husband and a good father."

"That is good to note. Rafayel sure do cares about you guys a lot. But, would you care to say that you fell in love with him because he is rich and famous?" The daring assumption made by the reporter made you scowled in 4k on the Linkon's National Television Network.

Your eyebrows are now knitted together, your facade of being nice slowly fading behind your rising annoyance. "No. I certainly do not and will never love him just because of his wealth and fame. I love him for the way he is."

"Fans had also mentioned that you do not seem to be a good example of a mother given you are a deepspace hunter yourself. Moreover, given the recent decrease in recruits, you had to take up double shifts to cover for the incident. What do you have to say regarding this?" The woman smirked, knowing she had struck a nerve in you. Her tone coated in layers of disdain and you can see it right through. This is a personal attack towards you and your family.

Before you could retort the question, you felt a hand on the small on your back and you turned around, your husband standing upright beside you. A look you knew all too well shown on his face. "Get out of my exhibition." The crew feigned innocence, looking at one another to mentally convince themselves that they had done nothing wrong other than doing their jobs. "Nobody disrespects my wife and my family like that. Be it fans or reporters or anyone else. SO you can kindly see yourself out before I call on my security guards." The edge of his lips curled into a cunning smirk. "Which I think might not look good on your company's reputation if they were to escort you guys out."

The bunch of strangers started dispersing out of the family's sight and you looked at Rafayel, who is quick to take Mariela off of your arms and into his. "Are you okay?" He ran the back of his hand across your cheek. "I am sorry, I should have been by your side the whole time." He apologised, putting the blame onto himself but you held his hand in yours, thumb rubbing comforting circles.

"Don't say that Rafayel. You were just doing what Thomas has asked of you. I can fend for myself if those remarks were thrown to me." You gave him a peck on your cheek. "Even if the day you end up being homeless and broke, I will still love you." You looked over to your daughter, who had cosied up to her father's neck, fast asleep.

"The same thing applies from me to you too, cutie." The use of the old nickname rolling off of the tip of his tongue made you bit your lip and you could not help but to smile, looking down at your heels. His finger lifted your chin up, and he pressed a kiss onto your lips lovingly in the middle of the exhibition hallway, ensuring that reporters who may be passing by would be able to catch a glimpse of his actual exhibition of love.

ZAYNE & LUMI & IVER

"Good morning." You could make out Zayne's husky voice and his weight was pressed up slightly against your back, a kiss then planted on your cheek. "Today is Lumi and Iver's presentation day. The one where they have to bring a parent along and to introduce them."

"Oh it's today?" You asked, yawning and stirring yourself to wake. You turned over to face your husband and you opened one eye. "I totally forgotten about it." Zayne smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips this time. You felt particularly tired because today is one of those rare off days you could get whenever Wanderer sightings are not reported as often, and perhaps, with the amount of lovemaking you had gone through with Zayne last night, it was a little hard for you to just jump out of bed and get ready for now.

"I can go on behalf on us as I do not need to be in the hospital today." He smoothed his hand over your hair, staring at you lovingly with those alluring hazel-green eyes of his. "So, take your time to rest, my love. You deserve it." Another kiss is pressed to your lips for a few seconds and he got out of bed, walking over to you to pull his side of blanket over your half naked body. "I don't want you to get a cold, so you may take my side of the blanket too."

You smiled warmly at him in return and managed to catch a glimpse of his toned physique when he walked towards the bathroom to wash himself up. Once he was done, he went over to the kids' room to wake them up. "Lumi, Iver. It's time to wake up." He said gently, pushing the curtains open to draw in the sunlight. The twins slowly stirred awake and they both sat up in their beds, in a half awake state.

"Morning daddy." Lumi spoke, with Iver saying the same exact greeting a few seconds behind. As if by routine, they both extended their arms out and Zayne picked both of them up in one-go, bringing them to the bathroom so they could get washed up and get dressed for school.

Pulling up at the twin's kindergarten, Zayne parked at the allocated parking lots for the parents and he got out of the car, immediately getting stares and comments from the bystanders in hushed whispers. Not only does he own a fancy car that most parents could not afford, but he is also extremely good looking. He popped the backseat's door open and escorted both of his kids into the kindergarten's premises.

Zayne sat on the floor, just like the other parents but it felt a little out of place for him as he was the only father who attended this event. The usual stigma regarding kids shall always be tied to a mother's responsibility but Zayne has never believed in that. He strongly believes that childrens are a result of both sides of parents, hence they should be a shared responsibility for both parents.

Lumi and Iver sat in front of their father, and they noticed the way their classmates were looking over to them. "Is that your daddy?" One of the classmates asked Lumi, the toddler about her size, with big brown eyes and short brown bob. Lumi nodded in return. "My mummy say he looks very nice." The comment made Zayne looked over at the parent who is in charge of the talking child and the mother looked away in embarassment.

As usual, Zayne is used to this kind of scenarios, even in hospitals he would always be stared at by patients, some even going as far as to state that they are cured because of how handsome he is. Zayne however, never bought into any of those bullshit. It is not because he is egoistic, but he does not want to be downplayed because of his looks. The saying goes, if you are handsome, you get a certain privilege amongst the normies. Zayne wanted to prove that idea to be a total scam as looks does not necessarily equate to one's actual capabilities in getting things done. Zayne being a prime example.

The homeroom teacher came in after the bell had finished ringing and she welcomed all of the parents' attendance. Goes on about the agenda for the day and that this event is held to encourage stronger bonds between parents and children and amongst their peers as well. "Lumi and Iver's father, would you like to be the first one to start?" She asked Zayne, palms out and pointed towards him.

"Sure." The man replied, clearing his throat and standing up, his towering height a stark difference from his children. He walked to the front of the classroom. Kids of their age would have thought of him being the giant in the beanstalk fairytale if only he had green skin and a big nose. Zayne pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose and greeted everyone. "Good morning everybody, my name is Zayne and I am the father to Lumi and Iver." He sent a smile towards his kids. "I am the chief surgeon and leading cardiologist for Akso Hospital."

Zayne talked about his job, keeping it brief and non-technical as he does not want to bore anyone within the room and he does not find the need to reveal too much of his personal information. Now comes the questioning phase, in which the parents would ask questions towards the speaker to get to know them better. "Dr. Zayne, since you are a doctor, would your work take up a lot of time?" One of the ladies asked, readjusting her position on the mat.

"Yes it does." Simple and clear-cut.

"Then do you have a wife to take care of the kids for you?" Her question turned into a flirtatious attempt and a couple of other mums started to tune in, some biting their lip and some fixing their hair. Does not take one to know what was already running through their minds.

Zayne sighed, feeling indifferent to her question. He purposely held his left hand in front of his chest and he twisted the wedding band that is evident on his ring finger, the diamond cut on the simple band refracting the sunlight almost immediately. The lady who asked her question seemingly tried to choke back on her own words, face darkening to a shade akin to a tomato. "Of course I do. A doctor would not be in his or her right mind to have kids and to work full time when our job requires us to be on call for 24/7."

He continued. "My wife is a full time deepspace hunter and we are both equally as involved in our children's lives, just on intervals for the weekdays, but on weekends, we take more time to nurture them." The way he phrased his answer made the whole room went silent, the only sound present being the chirps of the birds coming from outside of the window.

"We are home mummy!" Both of the twins shouted together, placing their shoes onto the shoe rack and dashing into the house to look for their mother. Zayne followed in suit, keeping an eye on them two so they do not end up falling.

"Hey there my babies!" You called out from your bedroom, already dressed up and wide awake. Lumi and Iver both in their tiny white uniforms with stripes of blue, the uniform colour of the kindergarten they both attended. Lumi's dark hair was tied into a neat braid, an effort from Zayne's Youtube history having a streak watch for braid tutorials. Iver's hair however is soft and fluffy, the same as his father’s and it sat on top of his head like a cloud.

"How was the parent meeting?" You asked them two, and they both enveloped you into a big hug, each on one side. Both of your kids looked very happy so you assumed that it went well.

"All of our friends brought mummies." Iver stated. "Nobody bring their daddies to school today." Lumi nudged Iver and whispered something into his ear in her low voice and the boy reiterated what her sister said. "Oh and Cathy's mummy said daddy looks very good."

"She said he is handsome." Lumi corrected Iver and they both turned in sync to watch your reaction. What could you possibly say? Your husband is good looking, it is a bound-to-happen situation but you somehow wished you were the one that attended the event instead. A small slither of jealousy bubbled in your stomach. Just a tiny one.

You were wondering if Zayne took the lady's compliment until you saw your husband walking into the room, with a stoic look. He has always been stoic, yes, but this time, something is different about this look of his. His white formal collared shirt hugged his muscled figure well, his simple black tie hanging loosely below the third button, extending one's sight on his wide sets of shoulders and his v-line figure. His sleeves were folded to his forearm, veins lining against the exposed part of his arms. He placed the car keys and his glasses onto the makeup table and sent you a short look, the side of his lips pulled up into a greeting and loving smile. "Good morning, y/n."

"Good morning, my love." You wanted to believe that Zayne did not entertain the lady's compliment, but you just wanted to hear him say it. So, y/n decided to go with an indirect approach. "Kids, can you wait for mummy outside? Daddy and mummy have to talk a little." Once both of the kids had left, you turned to your 'sulking' husband who was busy changing into a more comfortable outfit. "Come on, what happened?"

"Apparently, I was the only male figure there." He spoke informatively. "And particularly, I do not find it likeable when the other parents think that I am a single parent." His sentence got you figuring when did he ever cared about what people think about him? Has the cold Dr. Zayne finally loosened up? "I find it disrespectful towards you despite them meeting me for the first time." He sounds offended and yet providing the benefit of the doubt to the other parents.

You stared at him, perplexed at the situation. "So, conclusively, you do not enjoy going to the parent's meeting?" You crossed your arms in front of your torso. "Because you do not like the way I got low-key disrespected by the other mums?" A part of you is tasting victory at the tip of your tongue for how protective he is, another part of you---, okay there's no other part. It is the least Zayne could do to show you and the others that he is in a happy marriage and you are fully content with the way he had handled it.

There is not a need to address your concerns of the woman calling him handsome anymore because you know well enough if Zayne had wanted to cheat on you, he could have done it many times given his popularity amongst the opposite sex. But he stayed loyal through thick and thin and had never made you doubt his loyalty and love to you, this being one of his prime examples of being a fine husband.

Zayne chuckled under his breath and came closer to you, both of his hands held your arms and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Low-key is too minimal of a word to describe their assumptions. It is disrespectful for them to assume I am a single parent, when I have a model wife right here with me." He ran his hands repeatedly up and down your arms to comfort you.

"Furthermore, I do enjoy going to Lumi and Iver's events at the kindergarten but perhaps next time, I would much prefer it if you went with me." He pulled you into his arms and you surrendered within his hug. "So that we can spend time with the kids and I get to indirectly dismiss any ladies who may be interested in taking your place." Your laugh further made him look forward to the upcoming event for his kids' kindergarten.

XAVIER & LUCIAN

"Daddy, what are you doing?" Lucian appeared from behind his bedroom door, one eye opened while the other half-lidded. Xavier took a peek at the clock hung on the wall. 10.30am. Lucian, however, is looking at the desk filled with all sorts of sewing needles and a bunch of fabric lapped over one another. "Are you making something daddy?" His eyebrows hinged upwards and he tried to get onto his tip toes to see what was placed on the table. Seeing his son struggling, he carried the little boy up into his arms and placed him on his lap. "I am trying to sew mum a toy, you know, like the ones that you can get from the souvenir shops and all?" Lucian looked between his father and the mess on the table, figuring out how does one make a bunch of cloths into a toy. The limitation of imagination a normal happening for a toddler his age. "What should we make for mummy?"

"A big teddy bear!" The son exclaimed, arms wide and laughing happily. Xavier chuckled along, his son not lacking any bit of his wife's enthusiasm. "Rabbit? Mummy likes rabbits." The son pressed his small index finger to his own lips, thinking to himself. The suggestion of his made Xavier's cheeks flushed red, remembering that one time when you brought him to an event and made him dressed up as a rabbit themed butler, and that is how he met Lucian's mum. Ironic, I know.

"Yeah, I guess a rabbit would do." A sigh escaped his lips when he noticed none of the cloths on the table are white. Unless his wife would be able to appreciate a multi-coloured rabbit toy, he did not want to risk it. "We need to go shopping for some stuffs. Can you go and change your clothes Lucian?" Xavier instructed and the little boy headed off to his bedroom as he was previously trained. As much as independence goes, you and Xavier had decided that some good habits have to be instilled from young. Dressing himself up being one of the disciplines you guys had agreed on.

Xavier got himself changed into a simple white t-shirt and a pair of wide jeans. Surprisingly and yet not surprisingly, Lucian came out of his room, holding a same blue jeans in his hand. "Daddy, can you help me? It is hard to pull it up-up." He pouted, handing Xavier the jeans. Steadying himself, Xavier pulled the jeans up his legs and helped him to button it. "Thank you daddy." The son grinned from ear to ear and held onto Xavier's hand, going over to put on his shoes.

Initially, they were going to ride the motorbike to get to where they are headed, but given the sun is high up the skies today, it calls for a chance for the both of them to enjoy a walk under the clear and warm weather. Xavier did brought along an umbrella as well, in case Lucian gets a little hot. Just because he enjoys the sun, he does not immediately assume his son would enjoy it as much. A lesson he had learned from his wife when you got a fever after walking with him under the sun despite you not being able to stand the heat.

The streets today are not as busy as the normal weekends, with minimal traffic and pedestrians. "Are you tired already?" Xavier observed his son, his footsteps slowing down and slightly wonky. Lucian looked up at his towering father and shake his head, hand coming up to rub his eyes and he yawned. Tears lined his eyes and Xavier bent down to carry his son up into his arms. "It's okay, you can take a nap in my arms, kiddo."

He walked down the street, passing by a coffee shop that looked newly opened. As he was looking through the menu that was on a stand outside, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Fishing it out of his pocket, he noticed that his wife is contacting him. "Hello? Baby?" He immediately pressed the phone to his ear. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I woke up to an empty house. Where are you and Lucian?" You asked and he gulped, luckily he had kept the threads and sewing kits and fabrics or else the surprise factor would be ruined.

"Lucian told me that he wanted to have a walk at the park. Since you are still sound asleep, I decided to bring him out for a small walk." Xavier explained, head tilting slightly to look at his son. Still sound asleep within his arms. "We will be back around 15 minutes. Is there anything you would like me to get for you?"

"Some coffee would be great, Xavier." You smiled on the other side of the line, same as him. "Be safe when you are at the park with Lucian alright? I will just rest a bit more at home." You informed him and the call ended with 'Bye' and 'I love you'.

Arriving at a craft store, he lightly woke his son up by kissing his cheek. "We are here Lucian, would you like to accompany me to decide on what colour to get for mummy?" Lucian blinked open his eyes, those light blue irises of his slowly darkened to make up for the lack of lighting within the store. The trinkets neatly placed in various baskets and boxes amazed the child, there are so many things he would like to get his hands on.

"Hi there, how may I help you?" A senior appeared from behind the counter. A lovely lady with a hunched figure, her own kitting works worn on her. Xavier leaned closer to the counter, noticing the vast amount of fabrics, of all sizes and textures mapped out behind the counter. There are also several pictures, in monogramic style, featuring the old lady in her younger days and what seems to be her children, standing side by side, smiling with her. Her light brown eyes lit up when she caught sight of Xavier and Lucian. "Oh, what a precious child."

"Thank you." Xavier thanked her. The old lady laid her knitting items down onto the table she had beside her and she reached her wrinkly hand up to wave it in front of Lucian. The young kid was quick to react, using his tiny hand to wrap around the lady's index finger and Xavier swear he could have seen the old woman regained her youth at that moment. Perhaps reminiscing about the times when she had her kids alongside her. "I am here to get some fabric so I can make a stuffed toy for my wife."

Now it is Xavier's time to have a hunched back. He never thought the process of sewing a stuffed toy would be so complicated. Can't blame him, given his royalty background in Philos and him being an esteemed deepspace hunter in this dimension, why would he even go near anything related to sewing and knitting? It is however, a part-time hobby of yours, as you mentioned that you find it to be peaceful and helps you to focus better. It is also a good past time on the days when you are not busy out on the field.

"Daddy, daddy look at that!" Lucian called out and his head turned towards the direction his son pointed at. Claw Machine Store. Why has he never thought of just taking things the easy route? Because he did not want to. Catching a stuffed toy from a claw machine will always surpass the level of easiness as compared to making a stuffed toy from scratch. Furthermore, the thought of you finding out he actually put in the effort to make the stuffed toy for you would leave your heart melting. He wanted that from you, or more like he just wants you to be happy.

Across the street stood the claw machine store, with stuffed toys filled to the brim for each of the machines, begging to be caught. Your son's eyes are fully attached to the store now, already making mental marks on which toys he would want in his room. Your husband lack that enthusiasm, staring down at the huge bag of craft items he had just purchased from the store. He is debating against himself. Whether to catch a toy or to make one. Either one could predict for different endings, but he knows that you would be happy for both endings. Perhaps he was slightly irritated for the measuring of the level for your happiness.

"Let's go Lucian." He grabbed his son and heaved him upwards, holding the child in his arms like how one carries a log and he crossed the empty street. His feet light and quick in his steps, a habit obtained from his long-time combat instincts. The borders of the tar road ended when he stepped onto the padded pavement, putting his son down and watched as the kid hopped into the store. Xavier was quick on his tail, worried that something might happen to his son.

Luckily, the little boy with the light hair is easy to spot amongst the assemblage of neon lights and bright colours emitting from the machines. Lucian stood in front of a machine, hands pressed against the glass panel, hair stained pink from the light strobe of the machine. "Can we get this one for mummy?" His grin was angelic, but Xavier stood there, slightly stunned. Did his son perhaps doubted his sewing abilities as well like how he doubted his cooking abilities? Well, there is a possibility.

"But I bought these already kiddo. I thought we were going to make a toy for mummy." Xavier tried to test the waters and his son only responded with gestures, tine finger tapped at the glass panel again, pointing directly at the bunny plushie. "Lucian..." Xavier tried to coax him again.

Lucian then faced his father, lips pursed together. "The granny told me that you might get hurt from sewweng." The last word that has not been registered in his vocabulary. "I don't want daddy to get hurt. I don't think mummy will be happy too." For a 3-year old, his sensibility is admirable. His son's words changed his mind, and he gave the little boy a card, the one where he usually reloads a bit too much tokens in it for any sorts of arcades. "Let's get one for mummy together okay?"

"You," You closed the bedroom door behind you, a pastel pink stuffed rabbit in your grasp. Lucian had already being put to sleep shortly after his dinner because the poor boy was dozing off on the dining table. Today could have been a long day for your son. You watched your husband shifted his gaze from the mukbang show on the television to you. "Are a bad liar."

"What do you mean?" His voice feigning innocence when he sat up in a better posture, leaning against the bedframe now. "What have I done this time?"

"Lucian told me that you stitched this yourself." Your teasing smile is apparent to him now, you wiggling the bunny in your hands to show him the evident of his works.

"Do you not believe me?" Xavier's eyes widened, here comes the puppy look. He got out of the bed and slowly approached you. His aura taking a turn from being accused to being the accuser. "Or, do you not want to believe that I stitched it?"

You took a step back, your lower back pressed against the makeup table and he caged you, arms extended on both sides of your figure and he leaned in, smirking and chuckling lowly under his breath. "I...I...didn't know you could stitch toys." Your breath hitched in your throat as you could feel his warm breath fanned across your cheeks.

"I feel a little bit upset now." He expressed, pressing a soft and longing kiss onto your cheek and you jolted in shock. "Your son and I had tried to get a toy for you at the arcade today but we kind of finished the credits because the machine was problematic." You would safely put a finger on the fact that he is just bad at claw machine games as per usual. "So, Lucian and I decided to go back to the store where we bought the craft products from and got the old lady behind the counter to give us a crafting lesson. Then this bunny is the outcome of the lesson."

You can feel your heart bloomed at his explanation. You felt bad for doubting his skills, and you even thought that the bad stitching of the toy is a trend nowadays hence you assume your poor husband went off fishing at the claw machine arcades. You should not have doubted his determination. "I'm sorry Xavier, I didn't mean to. I just never thought you would go so out of your way to make me a stuffed bunny. I just---" His index finger slid past your bottom lip at a painfully slow pace.

"Sometimes, you can choose other methods to let me know that you're sorry." He whispered quietly and leaned down to kiss you, the doll you were holding taken out of your hands and tossed behind him, landing on the floor with a thud and your vision blended out into both of your igniting passion.

Here you go lovelies, this is part two for the LNDS boys with their kids and you <3

Leave me your thoughts and love <3 Have a nice day to all me lovelies!!!!

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

A+ in sex ed

pairing: leon x reader

cw: smut (like pure filth), daddy kink, implied dd/lg, masturbation, p in v, creampie (hate that word), not proofread

summary: leon teaches you how to touch yourself for the second time this week

a/n: leon wearing reading glasses is my kink

wc: 1.5k

You leave your polka-dot-covered socks on during sex. Leon pulls your feet up to his chest and gives himself to you in shallow thrusts. The angle at which the head of his cock rubs your g-spot feels heavenly. You snake your hand down between your thighs to play with your clit, but the dewy-eyed look you give Leon tells him that you want something from him. You’re asking him silently to help you as your mouth cannot speak when you’re chewing on your bottom lip. He misunderstands somehow. He gently removes your hand and replaces it with his, and you make a noise of disapproval.

“What?” he asks softly, lovingly.

You don’t respond with words, but he decides to let you off the hook because you’re so cute - and you look overwhelmed. You move your hand back down to your clit. You lift his fingers and put yours in their place, but before Leon can complain, you use your other hand to place his fingers back over your own.

“You want me to do it, but you wanna help?” he asks for clarification.

You nod and hum in approval. “Teach me how,” you say.

He remembers earlier that week when he sat you in front of a mirror and showed you how to touch yourself. You’d walked up to Leon while he was typing something up on his computer. You tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to you. He was busy, but not busy enough to ignore you. It wouldn’t work anyway. 

“Daddy,” you said, “Need help.”

“C’mere,” he said and lifted you onto his lap, “What do you need Daddy to help you with?”

“Hurts,” you mumbled, looking down.

“Hurts where?” 

You shook your head and didn’t meet eyes with him. 

Ah. He knew exactly what you were thinking. “If you’re not gonna say it, you have to show me.”

You took his hand and placed it between your thighs. 

“There?” he asked, tapping his fingers over your core.

You nodded,cheeks flushed with embarrassment and a hint of excitement in your smile.  

“Your princess parts?” He knew it made you flustered when he said it like that. “Did you try taking care of it yourself?”

“I don’t know how,” you said. Which was a blatant lie and Leon knew it. You’re a full-grown adult. He saw a vibrator in your bedroom once. But, he played your game anyway. 

“So, you want Daddy to take care of it. Is that it?”

“No, I want Daddy to teach me.”

He assumed you were just being needy, maybe even lazy. No, this was a well-thought out roleplay scenario. Interesting choice, he thought. His eyes were killing him anyway since he’d been working in front of a screen for so long. He took his reading glasses off, set them on the table and hoisted you up. 

“Let’s go to my room,” he said, carrying you upstairs. He dropped you at the foot of his bed. “I’m going to get something, and then I’ll be back. Be a good girl and wait here.” He knew you’d whine or get up the minute he walked away from you if he didn’t tell you in advance. 

Leon returned a moment later with a full-length mirror that he kept in the guest room. Luckily, he was a minimalist of sorts, so he had space to place it in front of his bed - in front of you. 

Leon’s big arms picked you up once again to move you into a position where he could comfortably sit behind you. You never minded the way he manhandled you. Leon spread his legs so that you could sit between them. 

“We’ve gotta get you undressed, so we can see your pretty lil princess parts, baby.”

You lifted your arms so Leon could take off your shirt. You’d given up on bras long before you’d started playing as his little girl, so the single layer between your tits and Leon’s hands had been removed. Fucking finally. It was hard for Leon not to get distracted by them - he squeezed them like stress balls and made them bounce in the mirror. It seemed like Daddy forgot his role. It wasn’t Leon’s fault that your tits made his brain turn to mush. 

“Daddy,” you whined, “not helping.”

“Daddy’s sorry,” he said, planting a kiss on the nape of your neck. “Lemme get these off.” You lifted yourself up enough for him to pull your shorts down. Leon could’ve been more efficient and taken your panties off at the same time, but selfishly, he wanted a good look at the cute bunny print and pink bow at the top. 

“Look how pretty you are.” Leon pointed at the mirror with one hand while playing with the waistband of your panties, stuck between the promise he made to help you, and the urge to flip you around and fuck you with your panties on. There was no way you couldn’t feel the hard on growing in his pants when you sat like this. 

“Gimme your hand.” He held his out and waited for you to comply. Then, brought it down to your cunt - now bare, since he’d stripped you of your panties. He guided you, his finger over yours, rubbing your clit in small circles. 

So, when you ask him to teach you how to do the same thing for the second time this week… 

“You already know how Baby,” he says, though he obliges, guiding two of your fingers in a circular motion.

“Forgot, Daddy,” you lie.

“Forgot? Already?” You think you can get away with a fib, but he sees right through you. His smart little baby can’t fool him. Regardless, Leon plays along. He remembers how your face lit up at the opportunity to be his little student in the school of sex. “Daddy will remind you.”

He does exactly what you ask because he’s a sucker for you. Plus, your head gets fuzzy anytime his dick is inside you. Sometimes, his little girl is a little dumb - or at least, knows how to play dumb to get attention. 

Leon sticks two of his fingers in his own mouth, prompting you to do the same. It’s self-indulgent. You’re more than wet enough. Soaking, really. But Leon likes the way you look with an occupied mouth. 

“Good girl.” He takes your fingers – now covered in your own saliva - and brings them back down to your clit. 

You take your thumb - the one on your other hand - stick it in your mouth and suck. Maybe you’ve developed a bit of an oral fixation, Leon thinks. You seem to be successfully self-soothing, but he tries to step in any way. This time, you accept without hesitation. You suck his thumb like the baby you are and you look into his eyes in the same way you do when you’re on your knees.

It’s almost too much for him. You know what you’re doing to him. He can see the way you’re giving him blowjob eyes. It’s intentional. You really are his smart little girl.

“Baby,” he says, looking into your eyes, “Daddy’s gonna cum soon. Where do you want it?” He removes his thumb from your mouth to let you answer, but you grab his wrist and shove it back into its rightful place between your lips. He should scold you, he should stop touching you, or at least slow the pace of his thrusts, but he’s so close that he doesn’t care. His dick has taken over for his brain, and he can’t think about anything else other than his impending orgasm. 

“On your tummy?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Your face?” he asks, though he’s fairly certain that’s not the correct answer.

Your dissent vehement this time. The vigor with which you shake your head almost makes him laugh.

“Inside?” he asks, and it almost doesn’t matter because, with the way you’re sucking him in, he’d be lucky to pull out in time.

As expected, you nod excitedly.

“Do you deserve it?” he teases, though his tone falters, and the sharp intake of breath at the end of his statement is clear to both of you. It’s a futile effort, regardless. He’ll give in, and you both know it, but the thought of him pulling out just to be cruel makes your eyes well up with tears, and he can’t stand to see it.

“‘S okay,” he manages to get out, “would never disappoint my baby like that.”

Your inner walls clench around him, and the force of his orgasm takes him by surprise.

“Ah, fuck,” he groans as his hips sputter. He can feel your pussy spasm around him, and it sends aftershocks rushing through him. It’s rare that he lets himself cum before you. It almost feels shameful. It feels like he’s betraying you since he’s supposed to be the one taking care of you. But, in that moment, when he feels your orgasm rise as his falls, it feels euphoric. 

Plus, you love when Leon cums inside you. The thought of being filled to the brim was what brought you over the edge. Leon pulls out and you watch as it drips onto the bed sheets. You’ll clean up later. You plan to make more of a mess in round two. 

[bitchlessdino]

scream your heart out (m)

🔪pairing: fem!reader x seventeen (???) 🔪genre: horror, slasher, smut 🔪tags: DISCLAIMIER!!! MAY NOT SUIT MOST AUDIENCES, Graphic sexual and violent imagery color coded in pink, abrupt changes in text color, features/mentions members (Chan, Seungkwan, Wonwoo, Minghao, Seungcheol, Seokmin, Junhui, Soonyoung, Joshua), established relationships, scream au!seventeen, Hybristophilia, erotophonophilia, homicidophilia, graphic images, mention panic attacks, smoking, mentions disfigurement of faces, severed body parts, knives, guns, threatening phone calls, face masks (horror), knife wielding, blood, gore, death/murder, knife play, bloody handjobs, cum mixing with blood, consensual sex but nonconsensual murder, HONESTLY SOME REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT AND IM SORRY BUT YALL SHOULD BE READING THE WARNINGS, sexual innuendos, kitchen sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex, cream pies, cuck! (??) member, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breeding kink, PLS LET ME KNOW IF IM MISSING ANYTHING PLS 🔪word count: 6.8k 🔪summary: you and your friends get caught up in a classic horror slasher movie, only it's in real life. Now you're off to fend for yourselves in Seungcheol's million dollar home. The question is, did you keep them out, or did you just lock them in? 🔪author note: thank you @multi-kpop-fanfics and @wonwussy for beta reading for me <3. here's some of their notes “I’m scratching my face to not fucking scream” “WELL SHIT BRO WHAT THE FUCK” -Zeta “It definitely does capture that slasher essence” -SJ this was so fun yet mind numbing to write but this is way more extreme than anything I’ve ever written like I lost a lot of sanity writing this. FR one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever written. I hope it was worth it. ENJOY EVERYONE and even tho it came out late HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Ever since the murders over a week ago, everyone in town has been on edge. All including the individuals most closely involved.

You had lost three core members of your eight. 

Joshua, someone you’ve known since grade school who was sliced open from the back before being stabbed 8 times to the point of excessive bleeding. He had just gone out to walk his dog, the poor creature being the only reason they found his body at all. If not for the dog’s bloody paws, and the trail of blood they left behind finding help, Joshua’s cadaver would’ve lost deep in the woods.

And then Chan, your long-time boyfriend, was stabbed fifteen times in the chest. His face was so disfigured from obvious violence and what looked to be burn scars, that he was practically unrecognizable if not for the fact he died in his own home. Police are still looking for his severed arms and legs to this day with no luck.

And finally, Seungkwan, who hadn’t died but lost to the paranoia festering in his blood like a disease. That caused him to take the train to the furthest destination possible to attempt to escape death if at all possible, leaving the rest of you with only the reassuring texts he left in his wake.

All that was left was you, Seokmin, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Wonwoo; the core five.

“Okay, absolutely no one is leaving this house for the time being. Until the psycho is caught behind bars, dead, or whatever the fuck! We’re safe here.”

Seungcheol, the eldest, did just as expected: contacted the rest of you into a personal prison. Luckily, he was loaded. The prison happened to be six thousand square feet of space with countless rooms, amenities, and a housekeeper to boot. From the looks of it, it’s paradise, but it’s definitely a prison.

“Holy shit, you have an indoor basketball court?”

A prison with an indoor basketball court. And a pool apparently.

Seokmin wasted no time to enjoy these features, breaking out of his clothes and cannonballing in his underwear. If you knew any better, Seokmin didn’t even look like he went through any trauma at all. It looked like every other day for him.

“There's a murderer and you’re doing butterfly strokes?” You asked, baffled.

The golden man scoffed, reaching the edge of the pool and resting against it with his forearms. “What am I gonna do? Wallow, crying to my mom, worrying about dying, and not taking advantage of this gorgeous mansion we’re staying in?”

“Thank you, Seokmin,” Seungcheol grinned.

Seokmin winked back at him, “Of course, daddy.”

“How are you both so unserious about all this?”

Wonwoo left a kind hand against your shoulder, looking back at you with warm eyes and a small smile. “They’re grieving. Just in their own way.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “They’re being ridiculous. We shouldn’t be here. We need to be at the police station or something.”

“You were there when I got the call. The creepy voice said no police or you all die. Remember?”

You shuddered, hands over your sides to relieve your chilled skin. “Of course I do, but we’re sitting ducks here. This isn’t any better. We need protection.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to scoff then. He strutted in front of you, flaunting his wing span before flexing his arms and then crossing them over his chest. “Well, you have me.”

“And me,” Seokmin joined. “Pure muscle right here.”

“Maybe pure laughing gas, not sure about muscle. We’re actually living in a horror movie right now and you’re all making jokes.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo stroked your head as his soothingly deep voice serenaded you, “Don’t say that. We’ll make it out of here.”

His arms come around you, forearms pressed against your collarbones, and his chin crooked over your shoulder. “You have me too. I would run through that knife before it could get to you.”

You genuinely smile for the first time being there, your hand stroking over his embrace. Wonwoo delicately kissed the temple of your forehead, reminding you what it was like to be constantly adored.

You were grateful for what he had become in your life. Wonwoo had kept you company in your time of need. In the absence of Chan. He had come to your house with whatever he thought you might need, lent you his shoulder that you could cry on, lent his ears so that he could listen, lent his body that you could heal. In more ways than one.

“You’re right. You are.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and meeting his eyes framed in specs of hard plastic. “You’re the first person I can sacrifice if we face them head to head.”

He mused at you. “Ooh, now look who’s pulling jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Minghao commented coming through the back door. “Horror movie rules: they get killed while having sex.”

You punched the new face right in the arm, watching him scurry away to your other friends laughing.

“Not funny, Hao.”

Minghao sneers at you, a jester smile still on his face. “Ease up, princess. Wonwoo, watch your girl.”

“Only because she’s so pretty to look at,” he briefly grinned down at you before directing his attention to Minghao sternly, “but come on. We’re all a little psyched right now. Cool it with the murder talk. Alright?”

Wonwoo pulled you aside into the dining area, ignoring the careless laughter outside. His thumb stroked against your knuckles, lips pressing sweetly against your cheeks. His grin sunk deeper in his cheeks the further he made it past your jaw and then down your neck. He felt your throat vibrate against his lips. “Wonwoo…”

“I can’t have all these guys get you heated like this. That’s my job,” he teased with a rasp.

You slightly pushed him off, your arms swung over his shoulders. “You’re so ridiculous right now.”

“Anything to put that smile on your face.”

His lips reconnected with your neck, nipping at your skin. His humming sent tingles down your spine, and he took your body to press you against the side of the counter. Your hands grasped his baggy shirt, lip close to his ear, fanning your breath against his face. You smiled like a girl in love. Obsessed.  “Daddy…”

“I love it when you call me that,” he mumbled, just as love-struck, if not more. Your giggles brought out the pink on Wonwoo’s ears and cheeks while tightening the groin of his pants. You noticed immediately, cupping it in your palm, and running your finger along the seam. Your eyes skimmed over his taken expression, leaning your full weight into him. “I know there’s something else you really love.”

“Do you now?”

You nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “But do you really want to do it here? Risk getting caught?”

He leaned into your touch, allowing your fingers to take apart his pants. “Try new things right? Like you always say. Plus you’re scared. Gonna turn that fear into pleasure. Make you feel good, just what my baby deserves.”

“You're so good to me, Daddy,” you moaned.

His hand finds the hem of your shorts, pulling them down to expose yourself to the cold air. He fingered through your panties and slid two digits through your folds. He felt your breath hitch as he squeezed your clit, eliciting your soft whines. “You’re so wet down there, baby.”

“Just waiting for daddy to fuck me where anyone can find us and watch.”

Wonwoo eagerly pulled down his pants, kicking them and yours aside, but not without pocketing your underwear. He lifted you up slightly from the ground, his exposed cock hitting at your hip. “Look what you do to me.”

Your throat went dry at the sight of him, hand aching to wrap your hand around his girth and have him shoved inside you.

He didn’t let you wait a second long, and pushed in slowly inch by inch, burying himself in your pussy until he was nearly balls deep. You grasped his shoulder in a gasp, savoring the fire burning in your stomach. The girth of his cock stretched your molten walls, allowing them to melt all around his cock as he spread your legs. You writhe in his embrace, your limbs closing around his lean and toned build, already blissful from the few seconds of him being inside you.

Wonwoo’s words kissed your lips, flushed your skin, and left a permanent smile on your face. It swelled pride in his chest, better than any physical trophy would have. His hips slowly rolled against yours, letting you adjust to his size. He massaged the flesh of your side through his fingers, mentally reassuring himself you were his and his alone, but his names on your lips became more than proof.

Your hips buckled towards him in heat, matching his pace before the carnal side of him decided to fuck you like an animal. His cock then plunged sharply inside you, and then again, a whimper coming out of your lips. Your hips stuttered the harder he pounded, arching your back, you felt his hand above your ass, pushing you against him.

“Daddy…”

He lost control when it came to you, addicted—religious—the second your body came in contact with his. He loved how your fingers ran through his hair, not caring how his glasses fell off his face in the process. With drool out of the corner of his lips, he could feel the blood rush up to the surface of your skin, making him feel warm at home inside you. Throbbing, he only got harder feeling how perfectly snug you were, pricking his clammy skin with goosebumps as he bottomed out.

“You’re sopping, precious,” he murmured with a sly grin.

He had you begging, flustered, and beautiful. Your hand clasped his face as your other arm looped around his neck, swallowing his lips, anxious and thirsty for his breath. You craved every part of him viscerally. “Cum in me, daddy. Please…”

He scoffed, lips ghosting over yours. “Will you take every bit of daddy’s cum, hmm? Hold my cum inside you.”

You nodded gingerly. “Yes, yes. I promise, daddy. Give it to me please, I want you to spill your cum inside me and make me yours…”

“Hold on to me.”

You obliged, met with the hot stream of his climax, yours quick to follow. He embraced your sides, devouring your lips and muffling your whines. His loads pumped into you in erratic thrusts, fucking his cum back into you and making sure you drained him of every ounce. His fingers dug into your flesh, feeling you just come apart for him, undoing the tension that festered earlier.

But that tension was needed. It was necessary to survive. Everyone let themselves forget the current predicament, basking in the glow of the sunset until dinner time arrived. Despite the housekeeper that supposedly exists, she hadn’t been around since all of you stepped foot in the house, like a ghost presence. Seungcheol scrambled to find her—reminding you of his peculiar obsession with the woman—as he wondered when dinner would be ready since a rise in temperature or a savory scent couldn’t be found in the kitchen.

“That’s strange. She’d be finished with a whole chicken by now,” the homeowner commented, noticeably picking his nails.

“Aww,” Seokmin groaned, “Well, is there anything else to eat?”

“I mean…you can look around.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “This is your house. You don’t know what you have in your own house?”

“You try navigating a five-story home with countless cabinets!”

“Buy a smaller house, you prick!”

“Guys!” Minghao chimed in. “Breathe in…and out. We’ll just find food. Seungcheol, your maid, your house, your search. She’s probably fine.”

Your hands slammed against those pristine marble counters. “We are NOT splitting up right now. This is what the killer wants. She’s probably already dead and we’re fucked.”

Wonwoo came to your side, laying a cool calm over your shoulder, and rubbed your sides. You let yourself melt in his touch, his sweet voice soothing you effectively. 

Seokmin sat up from his stool, “Okay, okay. I will help Seungcheol and you guys stick together.”

“That’s still splitting up!”

“Better than alone.” Seungcheol rebutted. “You guys stay.”

Despite your protests, they went on their search. Your head banged against Wonwoo’s chest, muttering in anguish about how everything was going wrong and that it’d only get worse. Meanwhile, Minghao seemed to regain some of that tension but masked the fear with the bright light of his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You didn’t know what was more annoying, sensation of imminent death possibly behind any door, or the same five songs replaying on Minghao’s feed.

After 15 minutes when they were nowhere to be seen, your patience had run thin. You picked yourself up from Wonwoo’s lap and dusted yourself off. “Fuck this. We’re finding them.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, a concerned glow in his gaze. “Babe, hey. They’ve got it. Trust them.”

“Wonwoo, you know I can’t do that. Let’s just find them, hmm? Together?”

“Not a bad idea,” Minghao agreed. “Better in groups right? We go together, eliminate us as any potential suspects.”

Your boyfriend sighed, collected your hand, and laced his fingers through yours. “Fine.”

You were all joined together by the hip, making sure you were each other's sights. Through the wider than wingspan hallways, past the ridiculously expensive sculptures, you kept your eyes out for your estranged friends. Silence couldn’t have been more loud in these cavernous spaces, only hearing the gut feelings in your stomachs that’s churned in trepidation. Every step taken was the group closing in on the killer. 

Fortitude meant nothing if the danger was already inside.

Before turning around the corner, Minghao—reluctant to lead the group—crashed into a human-sized obstacle, causing the stumble of your entire party. You all faced a wide-eyed Seungcheol with the missing young housekeeper walking hand in hand with him. Suspicious, but besides the point.

“Holy shit, we said we’d come back!”

“It’s been 20 minutes, Cheol! You guys could’ve been dead for all we know.” You retorted.

“Wait, where’s Seokmin?” Wonwoo asked, noticing he didn’t see him nearby.

“He went ahead. He needed to piss or something and meet up later.”

“You idiot.” Your eyes burned a frustrated rage. “I said don't split up. DON’T SPLIT UP! That’s the number one rule of horror movies. You’re going get us fucking killed. He could be the murderer for all we know.”

Seungcheol scoffed, shaking his head. “Seokmin? No way. He’s the last person to even think to do that.”

“Well, do you see him? No! Probably he’s off someone being Ghostface reject with his stupid little voice modulator and cheap party city costume.”

“I told you—“ Before he could finish, his phone went off in the nick of time. When he pulled it out to saw Seokmin’s caller ID on display and the owner of the device wouldn’t help but smile. “See the bastard is even calling.”

He picked up and put him on speaker, eyeing you cheekily, amped to prove you wrong. “Seok, you little shit. How long does it take to piss, huh? Just say you wanted to take a dump.”

“Oh yeah, I took the shittiest, stinkiest, fattest dump. You could probably smell all the way from the other end of the hall.”

Instead of Seokmin on the other line, all of you were met with the eerie voice that had called you multiple times before. The voice that felt like spiders crawling up your legs. The voice that had you second guess whether you locked the front and the back door. The voice whose owner had killed countless people already. 

Seungcheol held the phone in a vice grip swallowing, fear stilling in his unsteady eyes. “You—Where the fuck is Seokmin, you son of a bitch?”

The morphed voice on the other end laughed, sounding bone chilling as nails against a blackboard. “What’s to say? Why don’t we play a little game to find out?”

“Mother fu—“You grabbed the phone from Seungcheol to answer in his place, cutting the older man off. “Why go through with this?”

“Why, I just want to help you find your beloved friend. All out of the kindness of my heart.”

“If it was all kindness, you could tell us where he is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Psycho,” Minghao muttered under his breath, eyes wide in shock and fear, as if registering the idea of death for the first time.

“And if we refuse?” Wonwoo interjected.

“Seokmin dies, rock for brains,” Seungcheol gritted.

“Ding, ding, ding. Or should I say, chop, chop, chop, since that’s what'll happen if you get any of my questions wrong.”

You scoffed, coming down the stairs with your friends to follow. “Have at it then, you freak.”

“Hey, hey, play nice. Maybe I’ll get too excited and decide to cut him up early.”

Seungcheol glared at you briefly before taking back the phone, storming down the stairs, and reaching the ground floor. “Ask away, as long as Seokmin is safe.”

“First an easy one. What’s your favorite scary movie, Seungcheol?”

His feet stopped at the end of the couch in his living room, stammering to answer. “What kind of fucking question—uh, The Ring?”

“Don’t lie to your friends, Seungcheol. You know that’s not the answer, that’s just what you say to anyone that asks. Say the real answer.”

“That’s the movie though!” he started to shout, visibly shaking.

“Just say it, Cheol!” Minghao pushed.

“Stop playing around Choi Seungcheol! Just say it,” You joined.

“Fine!” He faced the friends, evidently swallowing his pride as he choked up on his answer. “I never watched a goddamn scary movie! Is that what you want to hear? I get panic attacks every time I hear one in the background, why do you I’m always going off smoking when you guys put one on,” he confessed through his tears.

“Congratulations. Your first right answer. Now was that so hard? Pussy boy?”

“Fuck you,” Seungcheol sputtered, tossing the phone back to you.

“Next question. ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ Leatherface is known for wearing a mask when it was in fact several. How many and what were they in the original movie?”

“Who the fuck would know an answer like that?” Minghao croaked in disbelief.

“Three. A ‘Killing Mask’, an ‘Old Lady Mask’ and a ‘Pretty Woman Mask.’” Wonwoo calmly answers, garnering horrified looks all around. “I wanted to be a filmmaker, remember?”

“Correct. Next question. What Was Freddy Krueger's serial killer nickname before he died?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” you said slightly panicked, “Wonwoo?”

“The Springwood slasher.”

“Wow, Another amazingly correct answer. Hold on to that one, Y/n. He’s a keeper. He’s smart and fucks your brains out to the point of you screaming bloody murder? What a catch.”

You didn’t respond, impatience seething on the tip of your tongue, “Just tell us where this is all going.”

“Patience, sweetheart. Last question. What exact kind of knife does Ghostface use in the Stab movies? Here’s a hint: it’s the same one I’m holding in my hand against Seokmin’s throat. (Help me please...)”

“S-Seok.” Seungcheol gasped.

Seokmin’s voice could barely be heard on the other end, weak and afraid, only staggering breaths audible.

“Wonwoo, please,” Seungcheol begged, tears falling past his neck. “He’s our best friend.”

Wonwoo swallowed, gears visibly creaking in his head, “I know he uses a hunting knife, b-but—“

“Oh…” the voice cooed, “Well, that’s just not enough, is it? Seokminnie, say goodbye to your friends (Please, no…).”

“Seokmin!”

“Wait!” You barged, clutching the phone to the point of it almost bending. “A modified Buck 120. I remember now. It’s coming back to me. Now, let Seokmin go!”

The line went dead and in turn, light cast in the evening darkness of the poolside. All your eyes shot back at the change of light, startled at the sight in front of them. Seokmin was seated in a chair, bruises against his sides, bleeding from the splices on his forearms, and duct tape over his mouth. Yet the most frightening part was his closed eyes.

“Seokmin!”

You all rushed towards him, swinging the porch door in a panic. Seungcheol tried slapping him awake, pleading he’d be alive. “Seokmin please, please, wake up…

The poor victim's eyes start to flicker open, mumbling through the adhesive over his lips.

“Buddy,” Seungcheol ripped the duct tape clean off him, his ear coming up to his friend’s lips. “Speak to me…”

Seokmin’s voice came out in croaks, hardly incoherently, all except, “Be…hind…”

Minghao spat up blood, doubled over as Ghostface was revealed right behind him, and fell right into the pool. You and the housekeeper both let out a blood-curdling scream. The masked intruder wiped off the blood using his black rope, anticipating a lunge towards their next victim. 

“Run,” Wonwoo breathed out. 

He took your hand and ran with it. Taking a second to look back, you see Seungcheol and the housekeeper try to escape similarly before she was tugged right back towards the killer and she was stabbed right in front of him five times, each one faster than the last, having the poor Seungcheol paralyzed and fallen on his knees. The sounds of suffering were loud enough to hear throughout the neighborhood.

Wonwoo dragged you back upstairs, his survival instinct telling him to seek haven high and far up the house. 

“You left them there to die,” You proclaimed.

“He said he could manage it. You’re more important.”

“You actually believe that? Ghostface snuck up on Minghao with neither of us looking!”

“We’re going to have to. Secungcheol can handle himself.”

Finally, he finds the room, closing the door behind him and pushing heavy furniture in front of it for more time to stall. “We’ll be ok for a little bit here. Let’s look for weapons.”

He started rummaging through drawers, looking for anything strap, blunt, heavy, anything worth using. He was red in the face, sweat drenching his entire body. The only thing running through his mind was keeping you, the most important person in his life, safe. 

“Wonwoo, I don’t know if we’re going to find anything. Fuck. I’m so scared right now.”

He recognized the panic in your eyes, the bounce in your step, and the quiver in your voice. “Hey, hey, baby. Look at me.” He grasped your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumb. 

“I’m here, hmm.” He kissed your closed eyes. “You’re alright.”

Then your tempered cheeks. “We’ll get through this.”

The tip of your nose. “I love you like hell.” 

Finally your trembling lips. “I’ll keep you alive.”

“Promise?” You managed to breathe out.

“Scouts honor.”

The banging resonated from outside the locked door, only getting louder and closer every passing second as if teasing you to death. You shook in Wonwoo’s embrace, burying your face in his chest. “I don’t want to die here, baby.”

“You won’t. Not with me.” One arm wrapped around your body, and another had his fingers locked around the base of a lamp, tugging it from the outlet. Pitch darkness joined you, only having to rely on the dim-lit sky through the peek of the windows.

Whomever on the other side cracked through the wood of the door, breaking it piece by piece as it fell to the ground, knocking over the dresser that blocked 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Wonwoo pushed you behind him.

Finally, your barrier came down with a final kick, rendering it useless. Wonwoo let out a battle cry, charging at them with the lamp above his head. He swung his weapon while Ghostface swung theirs, both missing simultaneously. Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo pulled forward, aiming for the head.

They crash against the wall in the process, but not without mutilating the midsection of Wonwoo’s stomach. The visually impaired man fell back to the ground, groaning in agony as he clutched his stomach, while blood trickled through his fingers. “Mother fucker...”

Wonwoo’s vision started to fight against him with the loss of his glasses, dimming images before him, and slowly processing the murderous figure trodding before him. Wonwoo’s determination picked him right back up slowly, picking up his lamp once again, trying to take another move toward the perpetrator. And by pure luck, the lamp crashed against the crown of their head.

Ghostface stumbled back, quick to recover but visibly agitated.  Soon enough, they plunged the full length of the knife right into Wonwoo’s gut, sticking it deep and long before kicking him off of it. Wonwoo lands on the hardwood, blood gushing out of him like a public water fountain. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Wonwoo!” You come by his side, clutching at his wound desperately. “No, no, no.”

The sinister figure approached once more, hand creeping against the edge before he pulled it over and off his head. His eyes stared back at you both maniacally. His grin stretched from both ends freakishly before overtaking in deep chuckles. “Happy to see me?”

“…C-Chan?” Wonwoo managed to gasp.

“Hi, bestie.” His signature smile, once warm and inviting, reflected horrifyingly as if out of a film, one with too much bloodshed and betrayal to imagine. “Well, didn’t think you’d see me again, huh?”

“Chan, what the fuck?” You screeched. 

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Wonwoo voiced panic-stricken. “What, how?”

One foot over the other, Chan carried himself with conviction, ease, and the confidence of a man who slaughtered countless amounts of people. 

“You guys don't know how easy it is to fake my death. I was surprised by how incredibly stupid police officers are. Find a body that’s my height, my build, cut off their hands and arms to not get their fingerprints, singe their skin and face to the point of unrecognition, and plant them in your own home. I’m a fucking genius.”

“S-Seungkwan,” Wonwoo wept, his adam’s apple, “You actually—”

“It was beautiful. Masterful.”

“Why?” Wonwoo stammered. “Your best friend—“

“He was an imbecile. Weak. All bark and no bite. You will never understand how good it felt to stick the knife inside him and watch the blood burst off of him like a sprinkler. Like the knife going in and out of him surged power throughout my entire body. So, I kept doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. AND DOING IT.”

His smile. That violating smile.

You sobbed, covering Wonwoo’s wound with your hands. “Y-you monster.”

“This was all just fun for you?” Wonwoo bared his teeth. “You get your kicks from lying, deceiving, stabbing your friends? You think you’re some Billy Loomis?”

“Of course I have fun. I had lots of fun. We had so much fucking fun.”

“We?” Wonwoo repeated.

“What the fuck do you mean we?” You asked horrified.

Chan started to chuckle to himself, chest heaving exuberantly before he stood completely still. Dreadfully still. 

“Well, I'm not the one that killed Joshua, am I?”

A million guesses ran through Wonwoo’s brain. None made sense the more he thought about it. “Your Stu Macher? Seokmin…Seungcheol…?”

Your eyes turned to him fearful, before it melted into something else, something familiar. Something terrifying. “No…” your lips drew close to his ear. “Me…” 

Your hands squeezed around his wound, gripping, earning his moans of anguish, screaming at you to stop, before you retrieved the knife hidden behind your boot and drove it into his shoulder. Wonwoo let out the loudest scream he could ever muster, feeling the blade sharply cut his nerve whilst pain shot into his chest. He tapped his heel incessantly on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, looking at you in disbelief, overcome with hurt.

“And he was a good fuck too until the knife I put through his back made him scream like a little bitch.”

You pulled out the knife from him, seeing how the pain he felt in his body only complimented the suffering pooling in his heart, his mind, his soul. His lips quivered in your direction, sucking in his breath. “Y/n…Why?”

You simply shrugged. “Why does anyone kill these days? They’re bored, daddy. Same reason why things can change in the bedroom, to spice things up. The flavor of life is murder now, darling.”

“You’re killing people.”

You drove the knife one more time into his thigh, savoring his scream of agony. “And we’re more alive than we ever have been,” you said, twisting the knife before pulling it out.

You walked toward Chan, helping him pull off his robe. “And so is our sex life.”

“So, Junhui, Soonyoung…Joshua, and even Seungkwan.” Wonwoo asked, catching his breath.

“Every. single. one,” You chuckled. “Draining their cum out of like having a second puberty until life is literally drained out of their bodies. What a bunch of pussy boys. So obsessed with sex, they didn’t see the knife coming their way.”

Your hand reached for the ottoman and pushed Chan there to be seated, underdressed in the black tank top and black jeans he hid underneath with his momentarily abandoned bloody knife at his side. You unbuckled his pants single-handedly, your knife still in your other hand. “And Chan just gets so fucking hard with all the bloodshed. Like a bloodthirsty animal.”

“You just look so fucking sexy with blood on your hands,” Chan moaned, “Touch me how I like it, baby.”

“Mmh, my pleasure.” Your hand used the blood covering it as a morbid form of lube, closing around the girth of his cock to squeeze and lightly stroking it from base to tip, softly thumbing over the small slit on top. 

His stomach flexed, bucking his hips in your direction as he bit down on his bottom lip, beaming like a child on Christmas. Horny for your touch, Chan couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, warning up to your touch. He was absolutely growing at a rapid pace. “Like that baby, like that.”

“That feel good, daddy? You like how the blood is covering your entire cock? Seokmin’s blood, Minghao’s blood, Seungcheol’s blood? Wonwoo’s blood?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“You two,” Wonwoo’s shock couldn’t stagger from the scene in front of him, unable to process all this information at once.

“You’re massaging our friends into my cock so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” You traced your fingers over the details of his shaft, your nails prodding at the veins as your hand slowly picked up pace. You rolled him in your fist, letting him rut in your defiled hand as he moaned your name like an animal in heat. “I’m getting so wet watching fuck in my hand covered in blood. You’re just a sick lunatic obsessed with killing your friends and fucking my sweet pussy. I love that about you, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he screamed, hands gripping the ottoman in restraint, brimming with passion, “Wanna mix Wonwoo’s cum you kept inside you with the blood. Sit that sweet pussy on my cock for me, lover.”

You nodded invitingly, not missing a beat. You never did replace the underwear from before, making it easy to remove your shorts and sliding him inside your warm walls, massaging his length as you rolled your hips against his. You held the knife you still had in a death grip, stabling against the reliability of Chan’s shoulders. You mumble his name pleased, arching your back as you grinded down on his lap. “Your cock feels so good covered in blood, daddy.” 

“Your pussy feels even better knowing how much fun you had stabbing Wonwoo for me.”

“Of course, daddy.” You turned to the body mutilated and defenseless on the ground, grinning as Wonwoo was forced to watch. “That look good, Daddy Wonwoo?” Your ass bounced purposely in Chan’s lap, the jiggle showing off the splatter of blood left from the handjob.

Everything in Wonwoo told him to look away but he couldn’t, like a train wreck or a car crash, he couldn’t part with the mess of a situation he was witnessing. He wasn't sure what this meant for him, mentally nor physically.

“You like watching Chan fuck me, Daddy? His bloody dirty cock fucking me like you did a hour ago, fucking me like a nasty little whore.”

He hissed through his teeth, right the strange feeling surging in his pain-stricken body, “Shut…the fuck up.”

You laughed obnoxiously. “You love it. You love being a little cuck, watching other guys fuck my pussy. As if you hadn’t peeped on me and Chan fucking when he wasn’t ‘dead’.”

“It’s not true, you bitch.” The twitch in his trousers told him otherwise.

“You’re such a liar a dirty, dirty liar like I’m a dirty, dirty fucking whore.” You groaned loudly taking Chan’s cock, bouncing against his lap as you felt him pulse around your walls.

“That’s right baby take my cock.” Chan’s hand came over your bare cheeks, striking them with his full palms while his hips jerked up your body. “Taking the murder fueled, hard fucking cock.”

“Daddy, your cock is making me so fucking wet, stretching my pussy the way you sliced open our friends,” You growled.

“Fuck you’re such a little succubus, baby. Bouncing on my cock, coating yourself in blood. And I’ll kill more and more for you. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” You began slowing your pace, drinking in his every word. “You’d do anything for me?”

“I’d kill the entire human population for you.”

That left you smiling from ear to ear, the tension coiling in your stomach. Your chest pressed against his, pushing against his thrusts. “Yeah? Would you cum in me, Daddy? Mix our dirty mess inside me. Let me take your cum, daddy.”

“I’ll let you drain me of every drop, my little psychopath.”

“Cum daddy cum, make me full and breed me with our homicidal baby daddy. Make you a real daddy.”

Chan shuddered, overwhelmed with immense arousal. His hips found life of their own, hammering into you at top speed, and watching the pleasure morph on your face and the staccato rhythm of your breath leave your lips, all while the load threatened to burst out of his sack. “I’m cumming, baby, all for you, ah—“ then it exploded inside you. His cum launched out of his cock like a hose, he painted your wall in milky white, turning pink as it seeped out of you.

“I’m so close, daddy…”

Chan threw his head back to catch his breath, hands possessively finding purchases on your hips. “That’s it, baby. cum for daddy.”

“I’m cuming daddy, I’m—“ You gripped your knife, taking Chan’s abandoned one before plunging both in his head. His smile dropped, a small and weak, “baby” leaving his sweet lips before spitting up blood on your chest and he fell limp. 

You didn’t stop, however, given the fact that your orgasm had just arrived the mere second Chan tasted metal in his mouth. Your moans could’ve been mistaken for anguish if not for the smile on your savage face. “I’m cumming all over your cock, Daddy, fuck! You’re so good to me, you do so much for me. I love you so much. Hitting my spot even in death.”

The wave of climax finally started to fade, unlike your smile, wretched and demonic. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much.” You kissed deceased Chan’s lips, coming down from him, and fixing his pants before fixing his pants before pulling your shorts back on your body.

“Y/n…what the fuck?”

Watching you pull the knives out of Chan’s head, Wonwoo's expression was a mix of confusion and horror, struggling to back away as you approached him calmly, almost serenely.

“Chan has served his purpose,” You answered plainly as if obvious. “It was his time.”

“You did that, all that, with him, and you MURDER HIM? Your partner in sick, sick psychotic crime?”

“I told you spice was necessary, plus I’ve grown rather fond of you.” You bent down to his level, eyes noticeably just a deep pit of disparity. “I couldn’t let him kill you, so I beat him to it. Good thing too, because that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo whimpered under your touch—well, the knife’s touch—as the tip of it dragged over his jaw, drawing out a shudder. “Y-you’re letting me live?”

Your smile. That damned smile. You and Chan were mere reflections of each other. How had he not seen this sick image sooner?

“As long as it's with me, because you love me right? That’s what you said. You’ll always love me and keep me alive. You promised.”

You pressed the blade against his neck, “You’re cold-blooded. Fucking your dead friend’s girlfriend, leaving your other friends to die to save me, and taking on a mass murderer just for me.” Your other hand caressed over his face. “That’s hard fucking core, baby. I love that so much. You really love and want me. Well, I want you just as bad.”

“Like you wanted Chan?”

You scoffed, using the knife to point at the abandoned soulless body on the ground. “Chan was disposable. He was already fucked up in the brain. I can nurture you, let you prove you’re that you’re mine and only mine. Then I’d have no reason to kill you. Not at all…say you’ll be with me forever.”

“…yes, sweetie. O-of course I will.”

You sighed a breath of relief, your harmless hand coming over to stroke over the stray hairs on his head. “That’s my daddy. My one and only. We can be the finals. Together. Only us—”

“Hello! Wonwoo! Y/n!” Miraculously, Seungcheol found their way to you, barely alive it sounds like.

Rage filled your eyes. “Holy fuck how is he still alive,” you mumbled under your breath. “I’ll take care of him.”

You held the knife to your side, standing by the door and away from its open view. “Cheol! In here! We caught the killer!”

Seungcheol managed to find the defaced door, peeking through the rubble to see a disheveled Wonwoo, panting and close to death. “Wonwoo!”

“Cheol…” Wonwoo grunted. 

“Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you.”

“To…your…right.”

You glared at Wonwoo, betrayal in your eyes before launching yourself at the hero, who hardly had a scratch on their body. Seungcheol, taking his friend's warning in consideration, built up a wall of defense. His eyes caught you just in time and held up your arms, pinning you against a wall. His eyes finally registered on your face, and his grip on you only tightened. “Y/n, you evil little bitch.”

You chuckled tauntingly, struggling against his weight and strength. “Hi, Cheol. I know you always wanted to stick something in me, mind letting me do it first?”

“You—wow, you’re actually mentally deranged.”

“You don’t like that? Maybe my knife through your skull can change your mind.”

He kicked you in the groin, having you plummet to your knees, cusses streaming out of you like a river. “You pussy. Ass. Bitch.”

“Seungcheol,” Wonwoo groaned, painfully cheering him on.

You managed to kick Seungcheol down in your distress, crawling on top of him to gain leverage. “I know you liked to be topped.”

You held the knife, hands wrapped tightly around the handle before striking. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s hands were wrapped around your wrists, the tip of the knife tickling his nose. Sweat beaded against his forehead, struggling harder than he thought he would as you smiled still.

“This would be a lot sexier if you let me run my knife inside you, baby.”

“Fuck you and your demented punk ass,” he grunted.

“I would if you’d just FUCKING DIE!”

A gunshot follows soon after and the blood gushed from your neck, pouring from both ends and falling lifelessly against Seungcheol, who let out a shrill scream.

“I found a gun,” Seokmin proclaimed weakly from the door before fainting to the ground.

Seungcheol rolled your body off of him, sick to his stomach. “Sick crazy bitch.”

He looked towards his friend who remained helpless his entire journey before his eyes got caught on the dead body he only realized now. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo whispered.

“And they…”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, dude.”

Seungcheol went around to pick up Seokmin from the ground, grabbing the gun. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered over your body, in disbelief it was alive a mere second ago, then he saw something strange, causing his eyes to fly open. “Cheol behind you!”

Another gunshot. Right between your eyes and your body that stood for hardly a second longer than it should’ve—of course with the knife still in your hand—fell right back on the ground.

“They always come back,” Wonwoo quoted.

Seungcheol let out a deep exhale, loosening his grip around the gun. “And aim for the head.”

“Sorry about your house.”

“…sorry about your girlfriend.”

“Me too.”

post reading a/n: always like me to insert chan into anything fr. i have no excuses

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @smileysuh (felt fucked up not to tag you bc you’re fucked it just like me 💕)

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒

ㅤㅤghostface!mike schmidt x afton daughter!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, dark content, ghostface au

word count: 4.5k

summary: how were you supposed to know one of your closest friends was also the one in desperate need for revenge?

warnings: dubcon (this can also be considered noncon to some since there's the fear of death in place so if that's not your thing please don't read), knife use, manipulation, voyeurism but no one actually sees, daddy kink, piv, blowjob, nonconsensual somnophilia, male masturbation, reader doesn't know what william did, dirty talking, creampie

a/n: a day late but happy thanksgiving everyone 🖤 i am thankful for my josh hutcherson phase (normally I was going to post this yesterday but oh well you get it)

**dividers made by @saradika xx

How long has it been since you came here? How long has it been since you witnessed the clean beige exterior that now looked more suffocating than liberating? 

You observe the dust over the picture frames as you drop the suitcases, the sudden release of weight making your back bend back like a bow. You stare for a while. Your dad had bought this particular vacation home ages ago. Ironically he had done it so the family could spend some quality time together over the summers. That was before the incident. Before your mom left, only leaving you and him. 

Now the dirt outside was muddy from the pouring rain. Leaves turning to mush under the pressure of tires and boots. You hear the faint sound of the car door closing. Moments later Mike stands behind you. You can feel his breath tickling the back of your neck. It soothes you. 

“So this is the famous summer house huh?” he looks around, not bothering to close the door behind him, he takes a step further. “God, it’s cold in here. Please tell me there’s a heater somewhere.” 

“Probably in the basement. Remind you this place wasn’t meant for winter.” 

“Yeah I can see that from the windows,” he turns and finally closes the door. “It’s a bit eerie that anyone might just watch us from down there.” 

You scoff, “Who’s gonna watch? This house is the only one. Besides it’s just a couple days.” 

Your dad was finally selling the place. Meaning you had limited time to pack the things you wanted to keep before the rest was torn out. You knew packing all the old pictures would be overwhelming so you asked Mike to join and he was more than eager to help out—which was a bit surprising but you were grateful nonetheless. He was always kind to you. Always so gentle. He made your heart jump whenever he looked into your eyes, observing, searching them for something more. You never knew what he was searching for. 

Mike walks ahead with just his backpack, he’s wearing all black: black hoodie, black pants, black jacket. . . he’s completely contrasting his surroundings. He turns to you with rounded eyes and you melt a little. 

“So where am I staying?” 

“Let me show you,” It’s odd being in the halls again, you remember them feeling endless when you were a kid. The floor underneath you creaks. “Luckily we have a bunch of rooms. I don’t know what my parents were thinking, it’s not like we entertained a lot of guests.” 

“Well, it worked out in the end. Now I have a place to say.” 

“Silver lining,” you agree, showing his room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to head to bed and we can brainstorm where to start in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he steps inside the room and you can’t help but be reminded of how out of place he looks. “Good night.” 

“Good night, Mike.” 

He stands at the door with furrowed brows and downturned lips. Not that it’s important what his expression is. It’s not like anyone can see it underneath his mask. The mask that he’d bought last second. It is now or never. And this is his chance to avenge his brother, his broken family. This is the solution to all of it. 

It doesn’t help that you’re soundly sleeping. Your lips slightly parted, more skin showing with each rise and fall of your chest. Mike takes a step further inside. The wind howls against the naked windows. Yet, your room managed to stay warm. You turn around to lay on your back and he sees you parting your legs underneath the comforter. His cock grows hard at the sight, he’d love to take you right now. Fuck you until you gasp awake, your sweet cunt dripping with arousal—you’d tell him to stop, not recognizing who he is and he’d go on until you’re creaming around him. Your body becoming sweaty and warm. 

Mike licks his lips and rubs a palm over the outline of his cock. His eyes search your room. You hadn’t unpacked yet. Your suitcase open with clothes pouring out the edges. You probably just picked that flimsy shirt you were wearing and headed to bed. He slowly walks to the pile of clothes, within, he finds a pair of black lace underwear. Mike picks it up. A gloved thumb follows the patterns of delicate flowers. His lips curl upward, just what you were planning on doing with him here? In your old family home where it’s just the two of you?

He stands at the edge of your bed. He’s amazed at how much he can get away with without waking you. It’s amazing how much you trust him without a second thought. 

Too bad he doesn’t trust you. 

With your panties, he fists his cock, the fabric catches against the head prompting the jerk of his hips. He strokes himself fast and hard. Precome seeping into the delicate fabric. His eyes are glued to your lips, the pacing of your breath, your body that’s sprawled underneath the sheets. His cock twitches. Balls tightening as he imagines the sounds you would make for him with a knife against your throat and him deep inside your cunt. 

The smallest of groans manage to escape him as he spills into his fist and the fabric, thick ropes of come staining your panties, he inches closer. Hips stuttering helplessly while wishing to see himself dirty your pretty parted lips. He knows he will soon enough. He sees the way you look at him, how desperate you are for affection and a sense of belonging. Mike enjoys the sense of control he has over you. It makes it all that much more sweeter. 

He’ll take you. Break you. And pull you back together again. 

He’ll ruin William Afton’s precious little girl. 

You’re blessed with a little bit of sun today. Bits of dust sway in the air, boxes upon boxes standing around you and Mike. Two empty coffee cups lay idly on the floor. You slept like a baby last night, which was something you hadn’t expected, yet when you woke up you felt a bit off. Your door was open for starters. And you definitely remember closing it. Mike had just shrugged it off, saying that you were tired and probably forgot. 

Which is likely, now that you think about it. 

Mike picks up one of the framed photos of you and your dad. Despite the sunlight filling the living room, a chill settles over your skin. He observes the photo longer than necessary. Then he traces the engraved name underneath the picture. 

“Afton,” he murmurs. “I keep forgetting you’re an Afton.” 

He doesn’t let go of the picture as his eyes meet yours, you don’t like the look in them. He almost seems angry. 

“What does it matter?” you say in a sheer tone. “It’s not like it means anything whether I’m an Afton or not.” 

“I’d beg the differ. And I know some other people would too.” 

Mike places the photo in a box, eyes dropping to the floor. Heat rises to your cheeks. You’re confused. Very confused. “Are talking about Freddy Fazbear’s? You know I don’t like talking about that Mike.” 

“No need to get defensive. I’m just saying that your surname isn’t nothing,” he gives you a small smile but it does little to calm your nerves. “You were never suspicious of him?” 

“Of what?” 

He gives you a blank stare, “Of the murders.” 

Your mouth opens and very promptly snaps shut. Mike was never interested in this before. He hadn’t even asked about it, not once. Your shoulders drop and your heart feels heavy in your chest—Were you ever suspicious of him? Of your own father? To be fair you never thought about it. You shut your eyes and plugged your ears. You never wanted to think about that wretched pizzeria and all the things that happened in it. 

Your stomach jumps when he reaches out, curling his palm over the slope of your knee. You release a long breath. 

“Sorry for bringing it up,” he says, his eyes now soft. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“That’s okay.” It wasn’t. You get up, feeling the weight of his gaze as you do. “Alright, I think I’m gonna take a brisk shower then we can make pasta or something.” 

“I can start on that,” he answers. “Pesto or marinara?” 

“You can pick. I’m fine with either.” 

He nods and you leave before he stands. You feel icky all over. The dust and the sudden reality check about your father’s pizzeria and his role in all that had happened make you desperate to scrub yourself clean. 

You swiftly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, giving it a hard shove until you hear the satisfying click. The inside smells of lavender. 

You strip and throw your clothes into the washing machine. The water warms up easily when you step inside. You draw the curtain shut and sigh at the clean water caressing your skin. Warm showers are the solution to everything. Even daddy issues. You begin to wash your hair, a soft moan dropping from your lips as you massage your scalp. The water trickles down your neck and between your breasts. With soapy hands, you give yourself a firm squeeze and graze your thumbs over the pebbled nipples. 

“That’s nice,” you sigh, hands moving up to rinse your hair. Maybe after the shower you can lay down and treat yourself until lunch is ready. Your vibrator’s fully charged, and the prospect of Mike hearing the faint buzz of it makes your pussy throb. 

Just as you reach for the loofah a soft click echoes in the steamy room. 

Your body tenses. Your heart suddenly beating a mile a minute. 

Your eyes turn in the direction of the door but you can’t see well with the curtain. All you see is the blurry darkness of the hall thanks to the open entrance. “Mike?” you call out, voice trembling. “If that’s you it’s not funny.” 

Of course, it’s not him. Even from here, you can smell the pasta sauce. Pesto. You desperately search for any kind of weapon you can use but all you see are shampoo bottles and the loofah you’re currently holding. You swallow. Turning back to the curtain, you see a faint shadow. It tilts its head. 

You need to attack. Need to do something before they do. How did they even get in here? 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

But you’re frozen with fear as the stranger curls their fingers around the shower curtain. The rest happens suddenly. The curtain is ripped open and you see who it is—Mostly. You see the mask, two pitch-black eyes staring back at you. Instead of screaming you jump away, the porcelain slips from underneath you, you fall and as soon as you do, you’re swallowed by darkness. 

Your eyes flutter open. There’s a sharp sting against your forehead. 

“Thank god you’re awake.” 

“M—Mike?” 

Your vision stops shaking and you finally see him. Mike, and his two soft brown eyes staring down at you. He’s holding a ball of cotton, the white stained by a bit of red. “What. . .” You attempt to get up but quickly forgo your decision when your head throbs. Mike clicks his tongue and presses the cotton to your head, your eyes tear up as it stings, but it slightly subsides seconds later. Looking down, you notice a towel was thrown over you. 

“I should be asking you that, how the hell did you slip?” 

“I. . . I didn’t.” 

“What do you mean you didn’t?” 

“There. . there was someone in the shower,” Your blood freezes as you remember. “He. . .I think it was a he? He was wearing a mask and he opened the curtain and fuck—I was so scared Mike.” 

Your arms move on their own and wrap around his neck, pulling him close. It takes him only a second to mimic your movement, wrapping his arms around your cold shivering body. His fingers trace your spine. A pleasant shiver runs up your back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now,” he murmurs. “But. . . the door was closed.” 

What? “What?” You shake your head as you pull away from him, ignoring the towel slightly sliding lower. “There’s no way. How did you see me then?” 

“Well, I shouted for you but you didn’t respond. Then I knocked and you didn’t respond again. The door wasn’t locked so I let myself in.” 

“And you found me unconscious? No one was here?” 

“Only you.” 

You shudder. That’s absolutely terrifying. 

“Come on let’s. . .” he swallows and you notice his eyes lingering where your towel has fallen. The swell of your breasts exposed. Looking away, you pull the fabric up and properly wrap it around yourself. His eyes move up to meet your gaze. “Let’s get you dressed and then we can eat.” 

Your last night here. Finally. 

After the unfortunate fall in the shower, you never managed to shake the feeling of being watched in your own house. You didn’t say anything to Mike but you knew he saw how freaked out you were from your eyes, by the way you would jump at every sound. Every time you closed your eyes you saw the stranger’s mask—those damn black sockets and open mouth staring back at you. It didn’t help that every morning you found your door wide open. You could’ve sworn that you closed it. But without fail, the door was open in the morning. 

And you’re so grateful to be done with it all. 

Stacks of boxes stand tall near the door. You were adamant about having everything ready tonight so that as soon as the sun peaked through the two of you could leave. Which was why you had ordered Mike to pack his suitcase— you’re doing the same, folding clothes with shaky hands and hoping the morning would come faster. 

Throwing your shirt into the suitcase your brows furrow, “What the hell?” you murmur as you lower yourself to your knees. The drawers and closet are emptied out, so why the hell do you only have three pairs of underwear? 

Sweat beads at your forehead. With panic, you rummage through the neatly folded clothes. You don’t care about the mess or the fact that you’ll have to fold them again—why can’t you find the other pairs? 

You’re completely defeated as your entire body deflates. Just three. You remember packing ten. They’re gone. All gone. Stolen. 

Your heart lurches and you feel it beating in your throat. You want to leave. You want to leave. You want to leave. 

The phone rings. 

It’s loud and booming. Your eyes shot towards the hallway. It’s the landline. A phone that hadn’t been used for god knows how long. You weren’t even aware that it was still connected. 

You blink rapidly, forcing the sting of tears to fade. You stand on shaky legs as you head towards the phone in the living room. You vaguely hear Mike mumbling a melody that’s familiar but also not at the same time. 

You stare at your reflection in the widows as you pick up the phone. Normally you’d appreciate the view. The dark sky, the swaying pine trees. But not today. 

You clear your throat, “H—Hello?” 

You hear a faint static, a low internal breathing, then the silence talks back, saying your name. You shudder at the rasp in his voice, fear weighing you down and gluing you to the floor. “Who is this?” you ask. 

“You know who I am,” he murmurs and takes a deep inhale. “We’ve met before remember? That moment in the bathroom.” Your body freezes all over, he chuckles, then speaks as if reminiscing a fond memory. “You looked so amazing. Nipples hard, body wet. Were you touching yourself?” 

You remain silent, eyes glued to the hall that is lit by Mike’s room. You want to call out. You really do. But you’re terrified. 

“Was it him you were thinking about?” 

“That’s. . .” you swallow. “That’s none of your business.” 

“Everything you do is my business,” he snaps but then the harsh baritone of his voice quickly softens. “Fine. Don’t. I know the answer anyway.” 

“What do you want?” 

“I want the truth, Miss Afton.” Your breath catches, your knees begin to shake. “Just answer my question and maybe you won’t die.” 

You remain silent and you hear the smile in his voice, “Good girl. Now, do you know your father is a murderous piece of trash? Yes or no?” 

You close your eyes, shake your head, you can’t answer. “Fine,” he huffs. “Do you think you deserve to live?” 

“I. . .” Your mouth goes dry and your fingers tighten around the phone. “I do.” 

Honestly, you’re not sure if you believe that. 

“Oh, I’m sorry but that’s just not correct,” he answers with a melodic lilt. “You don’t deserve anything. Why should your life matter more than the other kids that were killed by your father?” 

“It shouldn’t.” 

Your voice barely comes out in a whisper now. Your eyes drop to the floor, maybe if you run and get to Mike in time you can save you both? 

“Is your dad a killer yes or no?” then he adds. “You better answer correctly this time.” 

“I don’t know,” you say this time, he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

“Wrong.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath you open them again. All you see is your reflection. “I’ve been watching you,” he says. “You sleep like a log. I watched you. Fucked my fist while you were sleeping soundly, dreaming of sunshine and rainbows,” he sighs. “Or whatever the fuck girls like you dream about.”

You’re appalled by the sudden gush of wetness that courses through you. You shake your head, trying to push the images away. “Please don’t do this,” you beg. 

He stops speaking for a good while, for a second you think he hung up, but then you hear his breath in your ear and know that he’s still there. “I keep forgetting.” 

“Forgetting what?” 

“That you’re an Afton.” 

Your heart drops to the pits of your stomach. Every fiber of skin burning and tingling with the realization. You’ve heard those words before. You’ve heard the hidden accusation in them. Your ear burns from the phone pressed against it, you press it harder, not wanting to miss a second of dialogue. Your lips brush against the plastic as you do. 

“Mike?”

The line goes dead. Silent. And you realize you preferred words coming from the other line. Tortorously slow, as if in a dream, you place the phone back in its cradle. You feel him before you see him. Your head turns. You feel every muscle pulling as you do. 

And there he is. 

The man with the mask. 

“Mike?” you say again with less conviction. He tilts his head, not moving, not saying anything. Your body stiffens and your eyes drop to his hands where you see the sharp edge of a knife. You drag your gaze back to the mask, hoping that you’re staring into his eyes, “Why?” 

He takes a step forward and you take a step back. You’re inches away from the wide windows. “I had a brother,” he says, you’re surprised to find yourself relaxing upon hearing his voice. “I’ve tracked down the suspects. Looked at similar cases for years. Every bit of information leads to Afton.” 

“I had nothing to do with it.” 

Another step. The glass is cool underneath your palms. 

“You father did,” he answers. He stands only an inch away now, your stomach jumps when he presses the sharp edge of the knife against your neck. You hold your breath. “The day he took him is the day I lost everything. My family shattered. All because of him. And now. . .” Mike presses the knife harder, a hint of pain blossoming from where he’d cut. Your eyes snap shut. “Now I’ll take his little girl. Eye for an eye.” 

“Mike, please,” you whisper. Then you say something that surprises you both. “Take off the mask. If I’m going to die, I want to see you.” 

He tenses but obliges anyway. The mask falls to the floor, his hair mussed, soft curls fall over his forehead. A bit of stubble on his chin from not shaving at all since you two arrived. He doesn’t look scary, not at all. He looks vengeful, yes, but the softness in his eyes is still there. 

“What are you going to do to me?” 

Mike’s nostrils flare as he inhales, he exhales through parts lips, you feel his warm breath on your skin. “I’m going to ruin you.” The knife is replaced with his hand, he squeezes your throat, pulls you away from the glass, and slams you into it. “You’re mine now. I own you.” 

You shudder as he lets you go, his hands fumble with his jeans, and the fabric pools at his ankles. “Get on your knees and suck daddy’s cock.” 

You stare at him, wide-eyed but do as you’re told anyway. You drop to your knees. His cock achingly hard in front of you. He holds himself and drags the wet tip across your lips. He slides the underside of his cock against your face and without thought you dart your tongue out, tasting him. Mike groans, the sound rattling in his chest. With no warning given, he slips his cock between your lips and stops halfway. Your eyes water at how thick he is. 

When you look up you see he’s holding his phone, camera directed at you with his cock in your mouth. “Sorry,” he says with a faint smirk. “I need a souvenir to remember how good you look with my cock in your mouth. Who knew Afton’s precious daughter was such a slut.” 

Your eyes flutter as he shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket. He cradles your head and starts fucking himself deep into your mouth. “You know,” he rasps. Mike pushes himself especially deep and smiles broadly when you choke around him. “You really should be thanking me for not slitting your throat during all the nights I watched you.” 

He suddenly stops and pulls out until it’s only the head between your lips. His cock throbs on your tongue, he forces your gaze up to him, “Thank me for not slitting your throat.” 

“Thank—” It’s hard to speak with him still between your lips. You swallow and try again, your nipples tight. “Thank you for not slitting my throat.” 

“Such an obedient girl,” he muses. “I’m going to fuck you in every corner of this house. Get up—” 

He says that but lifts you himself, impatient, he presses you against the window, your cheek smushed against the clear surface. Your neck strains a little. His breath caresses the back of your neck, his lips on your ear, “Time to pay for your father’s sins.”

Mike lifts your shirt and pulls down your sweats. His cock lays heavy above the small of your back. Warm and wet. You clench as he pushes you forward, your breasts fully pressed against the glass. He kicks your legs apart, holding your arms back, Mike slips inside you with ease. Your breath halts in your throat. You only feel pleasure. You drip down his length, and with a groan, he buries himself to the hilt. 

“I knew you’d been waiting for this,” he groans. “So fucking wet—” 

“M—Mike—” 

He clicks his tongue and cocks his head to the side, his forehead brushing against the back of your head. “Not Mike.” 

“Daddy,” you moan as he pulls out and slams back in. You choke. “Daddy—” 

Mike fucks into your harder, the sound of skin against skin echoes in the room, wet squelches following. Your knees shake as you find yourself completely immobile against the glass. His fingers curl around your neck and he yanks your head back, hips relentless. 

“Look at that, anyone could see you now. I wish we had an audience.” Your cunt squeezes him like a vice, his hips stutter forward, a sharp moan rattling in his throat. He laughs. “Does that turn you on?” Helpless, you nod. “That’s it, take it. Daddy’s whore.” 

“Kiss me—please—” 

The plea takes him by surprise, he stops, hand tensing around your neck, you feel the pulse of his cock deep inside you. He drags his hips down your neck and teases you with his teeth. Goosebumps rise over your skin. And finally—finally—those perfect plush lips meet your own. It’s cruel really. The red strings of fate that tie you two together. You’re still not sure what to make of it all. Or of him. But you surrender. You surrender to his mouth and tongue. Mike swallows you whole. His tongue moves lavishly over yours, sliding and sucking as he presses harder inside you. 

“Gonna come inside,” he breathes into your mouth. His hand drops between your legs, your body shaking as he draws tight circles around your clit. 

Mike’s lips meet your throat, gentle then ravenous, making their way to the blankets of your clavicle, scraping the delicate skin. You arch against him, pleasure building, craving more. He thrusts harder, deeper, the pleasure increasing with each movement. His fingers grab your hips, and you can feel yourself tightening around him, his cock slamming against your core inside of you. Obscene sounds come from where he’s playing with your clit. You feel like a rag doll. And soon the coil snaps, you’re falling. 

Your entire body goes tense, his name leaving your lips in an urgent plea as the pleasure overtakes you. You shake and tremble, Mike continues to hammer into you, hand leaving your core and bracing itself near your head. Briefly, you manage to look outside. See the darkness that looms over the forest. Then you notice his reflection in the glass, eyes meeting yours. 

He smiles. 

Mike moans loudly, lips parting, his hips stutter over and over, spilling himself inside. Your eyes roll back, a whimper falling from your mouth as you take all of it. He holds himself there until his come starts to drip from where he stretches you. Your forehead finds purchase on the glass. Cold and soothing. His lips brush the back of your neck. 

“You look so tired already but we’re not done yet,” he parts your lips with his fingers and pushes them inside. Teary, you find his eyes in the reflection once more. He’s pleased. “I was serious in what I said, Miss Afton. I own you, now.” 

“Mike. . .” 

“And no matter where you run off to,” he murmurs, cutting you off. A hint of annoyance in using his name.  “I’ll always come back.”