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foli-vora · 1 year

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once again in your arms

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: mwahah, hello boys i’m baaack (10 points to whoever knows what movie that quote's from). took an unexpected break coz life, but i’m ready to get back on track. this was requested by a beautiful anon a while back (sorry for the wait angel), but i hope you enjoy! x

Request: hello! so this is kinda angsty: joel and the reader are married and have a baby (plus sarah, obviously). the day of the outbreak, reader and baby were in town and she couldnt call joel (or viceversa) cause the phone lines were down. they were separated for a few years until they arrives at the quarantine zone he's in, and he recognizes them in the crowd.

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, birth and having a baby, domestic fluff, angst, pre and post outbreak, some spoilery things if you haven’t seen the show yet, heartbreak, loss of a child, apocalypse things, i sweat at the idea of caring for a baby during the end of the world, soft reunions, fluff, cameos of my fave oc’s made in a different series

It’s a fact you had learnt in the very early days of your relationship... the Miller men knew how to care for a lady. Whether it was Tommy sliding in to open the door for you before you could reach for the handle, or Joel draping you in blankets and taking on the responsibility of keeping your hot water bottle warm to fend off cramps for the evening, not a moment went by when you didn’t feel the constant reassurance of their care.

Especially now, fresh from the hospital and tender from your days of excruciating pain and an extensively long labour, Tommy quickly slaps the pillows into something plusher, hands gentle as they guide you down until you’re reclining into the armchair.

Joel keeps an eye on you from across the room, the brief wash of concern slipping away with the easy smile that grows along his lips when your eyes meet.

He rocks the wrapped bundle in his arms softly, a big hand dwarfing the small head that peaks from the blankets. His fingers brush through the light smattering of hair peeking out from the cotton burrito, his index running along the tiny peak of a nose and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“Dad,” Sarah whines with an eager smile, shifting restlessly on the couch, “come on, I’ve been waiting all weekend.”

“Oh my god,” Joel drawls sarcastically, “all weekend? Baby girl, how are you survivin’ right now?”

“Shut up,” her grin widens, “give me my baby brother before I explode.”

“Well, we don’t want that mess all in the livin’ room,” Joel quips, stepping over your weekend bags tossed on the floor and closer to the couch, “ain’t treadin’ your brain all into the rug—thing was damn expensive.”

Sarah shrugs, readjusting her body to sit straighter and holding her arms out expectantly, “Least I have a brain.”

Tommy snorts in amusement, grinning at his brother's expense, “That’s true.”

“Are you still here?” Joel side eyes him, barely fighting the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

They bicker, throwing their little snippy sibling comments back and forth before Sarah clears her throat, her eyebrows rising in impatience.

“Alright, alright. Here, watch his head,” Joel instructs gently, a smile playing along his lips, “that’s it, baby, you got him.”

It’s a beautiful picture, Sarah carefully bringing the baby closer and tucking him carefully into her arms, and the sentiment is shared with Tommy as the flash and click of a camera goes off. He removes the polaroid sliding from the slot and sits it on the coffee table to develop before instructing Joel to slide in next to her and smile.

Both Joel and Sarah are oblivious to his instruction, lost in the bubble that has overcome them. You find peace watching them, warmth spreading along your limbs by the sweet tenderness of it all. The love is clear between the three of them cuddled on the couch, and it’s almost too much for your heart to bear.

Sarah beams down at her baby brother, cooing soft words and stroking a gentle finger down Matthew’s cheek. Joel throws an arm to rest on the top of the couch behind Sarah, turning into her and answering her questions quietly.

8 pounds, 3 ounces. Smaller than you. No, he didn’t cry at all—gave me and the docs a damn heart attack. She sure did a great job.

Your Joel was never a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the emotion shines from his eyes, bleeds through the lines in his face and it’s enough to bring tears building along your lash line.

“You okay over there?”

His familiar drawl brings your attention to him, and you smile at him, tired and fully at peace. It’s bliss, despite the ache of birth still hanging in your limbs. M

“I’m fine,” you respond quietly, lids heavy with exhaustion, “I’m just so happy.”

He fucking beams. His grin creases his cheeks and he nods softly.

“Me too, honey,” he mutters, turning his attention back to his children and playing with a strand of Sarah’s hair as he gazes down at Matthew, “me too.”

—

Four months later.

Chaos.

Matthew wails against your chest, the deafening sounds of screams, bullets, sirens and explosions setting him off into hysterics. Your arms tighten around him, keeping his face tucked closely into your throat so your scent could hopefully provide him some reassurance.

You crouch beside cars, you run until your legs ache. You take cover in stores, the soles of your shoes crunching over broken glass of the shattered windows. Every phone you try gives nothing but a dull tone. Radios are filled with static and emergency broadcasts play on the view screens you run past in your effort to escape whatever the hell is happening.

Worry stirs along the edges of your mind. Is Joel okay? Sarah? Tommy? You can’t call him, you can only run and hope nothing takes you down in your effort to get back to your car. You pass people crouched over others, blood smearing along their lips as they tear unforgivingly into the flesh of another.

It’s a nightmare, and it’s everywhere you look.

Almost there.

You see the sign of the parking lot and it only makes you run that much faster, even though your legs threaten to give out at any minute. You pass an elderly man crouching beside a woman, blood flowing from the open gash on her throat, and the ache clutching your heart only increases when his pleas reach your ears over the mayhem.

“Gloria,” he mutters in an aged rasp, “up you get, love. You’re alright, come on now—”

You can’t help it.

Somewhere in your mind you can feel Joel screaming at you to keep running, to get yourself to safety and not give a damn about anyone other than Matthew, but the image of this man cradling his wife’s wrinkled, bloodied hand is enough to get you advancing to him before anyone could hurt him.

“Sir—”

He ignores you, too busy with brushing the woman’s blood soaked white hair from her face.

“Sir, we have to move—”

You wrap your fingers around his shoulder and shake firmly. His head gives a shake of denial as he clutches his wife’s hand tighter.

“No… no, she’ll need help—she has a bad ankle.”

Shifting Matthew unsteadily onto your hip, your fingers wrap under his arm and tug him onto his feet. He fights you, bats your hold away with an infuriated expression at your rough handling of him.

“I’m so sorry, but she’s gone—we have to run. I—I have a car, please… just come with me, please!”

“I won’t leave her—”

“Please… they’re coming! I—would she want this for you? To die like this?”

He blinks, his frown softening ever so slightly before screams pierce the air, much closer than you anticipated, and terror claws up your throat until you feel you’ll vomit.

You hold out a hand, relieved when his own rough, calloused hand finally takes it, and then you’re running, albeit slower than before, but you make it to your car with no issues.

You dive into the driver's seat, passing Matthew over to the stranger when he makes an impatient gesture to hold him and then you’re tearing out of the lot, running down the few rabid looking beings that advance on you with bloodied expressions of hunger.

You don’t think you take a proper breath until you’re past a military barricade that had seemingly been destroyed in the attack, flying down the highway and around other panicked drivers with sweat slicking your skin.

Taking a deep breath to slow the brutal pounding of your heart, you look at Matthew, now calmed and looking up at the stranger with an obvious shine of curiosity. The old man is clearly softened by the baby, letting his small hand wrap around his finger and wiggling it playfully in his hold.

“That’s Matthew,” you mutter shakily, meeting the eyes of the elderly man before gazing back out the windscreen. You take another breath before giving your own name, tears biting at your eyes when you utter the name Miller.

Do you still have a husband? A step daughter? A brother in law? The unknown scares you, outright fucking terrifies you.

The man nods in your peripheral vision.

“Harold,” he finally says, voice rough and tired.

—

There are people everywhere, screaming, crying.

People run, shout, wail over family and friends.

Tears have long dried on his face, his head thumping relentlessly with the remnants of his heartbreak. Tommy’s grip is firm on him, tugging him out of the way of people tearing down in their direction, pulling him to where a makeshift table is thrust under a tent as a reception of sorts.

He doesn’t care about the people already there asking about their family and friends. He shoves them out of the way, hands shaking as they clutch the edge of the weak table.

“I’m lookin’ for a woman… she’d be with a baby boy, not even four months old—”

His voice shakes. He can’t get it to stop. He struggles to get out the detailed descriptions of you both down to the clothes you were wearing, speaking your names through trembling lips. His stomach jolts at the thought of you somewhere, lying helplessly on the floor with your flesh getting torn into while Matthew screams in his car seat.

He’s a damn baby. He wouldn’t know what’s happening, wouldn’t know why his mama’s not there with him—

The woman gives a small expression of sympathy over the thin surgical mask covering her mouth, “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve had no babies that young come through, and nothing like that has come in over the radios.”

He retches.

His body heaves, almost as if it’s rejecting the mere idea that you weren’t somewhere safe waiting for him. He had failed. Failed to keep Sarah safe, failed to keep Matthew safe, you—the vows he had made now meant shit. He hadn’t been there for better or worse. He’d hadn’t done what a father should have and kept his kids free from harm.

Sarah had died, terrified and in agony, in his hold. Her bloodied handprints remain dry and caked on his arms. Matthew had died, not even making it to six months. A baby, still fresh to the world, only just able to hold his own head up. You had died, not knowing where he and Sarah were, if they were even safe.

Tommy hauls him to a close trash can, rubbing a firm hand up and down his back as he chokes on vomit, tears soon streaming down his cheeks when his body eventually has nothing left to give. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering against his ribs and filling his ears until he’s unaware of the noises around him.

“They’re gone,” he whispers hoarsely, clutching at the rim of the trash can in an effort to keep himself up.

“Now we don’t know that—”

“God damn it, Tommy, you saw what it was like out there!”

Tommy sighs, his own eyes filling with tears. “We gotta keep hope, Joel—”

“Hope?” Joel spits at his brother, “What good is hope against that shit out there? She would’ve been alone, you know as well as I Matthew only would’ve slowed her down. They were in the city. We couldn’t even keep safe out here! They’re—they’re gone. My wife… my baby boy, my baby girl—”

The sobs tear from his chest, harsh and painful. He mourns for hours, unseeing of the flurried movement still happening around him, his sorrow mixing with the flood of agony filling the makeshift safe zone with every new unhurt civilian looking for someone familiar.

Tommy doesn’t take his arms away from around his brother until dawn starts to pierce the horizon,

—

Two years later.

He still fills your thoughts daily.

Your life, your old life, would flash behind your eyelids at night when sleep would finally claim you. You’d feel his touch, kiss his lips, touch his face. It all felt so normal. The dreams would be nothing but memories, and somehow, it made them feel more like nightmares.

Mornings making breakfast with Sarah, dancing to the music falling from the radio. Family game nights, watching Tommy and Joel get more and more competitive with each game. Grocery shopping with Joel, simply wandering down the aisles and relishing in his comforting touch warming your lower back.

You could never quite make peace with the possibility that he was dead. It didn’t sit right. The idea that your Joel had been lost to the disaster that had claimed the world just seemed impossible. Your heart rejected the notion, refused to accept that its counterpart wasn’t somewhere out there, living, breathing, surviving,

Sarah and Tommy, too.

They had to be somewhere, holed up safely and keeping well. They had to.

“They’ve established a quarantine zone close by,” you say quietly, mindful of Matthew sleeping on your lap, “it’ll be a lot safer there than out here. I think we should give it a go… find a more secure place to live. I’ve heard they have work available, good flow of food and medicine…”

Harry snorts quietly, shifting under his old, thick jacket, “That doesn’t mean they’re happy giving it out. There’ll be a catch somewhere.”

You eye the long carved frown in his features and lean forward to fix the blanket covering his tired legs, “Don’t you think we should try at least?”

“Maybe they’ll put a bullet in me,” Harry grumbles moodily, “I’m old—I can’t work like they’ll want me to. Although, it’ll beat living through this bloody nightmare any longer.”

“Harold,” you chide softly, heart aching at the thought of losing the grumpy old man after spending so long by his side.

He’d quickly become a grandfather figure of sorts, to both you and Matthew. The little boy was obsessed with him, and had been since the day you had come together, and though he tried to hide it behind his usual icy facade, Harry was smitten, weak from the boy learning to call him pa.

“He’ll be safer in there,” Harry finally grumbles, gazing at the sleeping toddler. “This is no life for him out here. It’s getting worse and worse. Stability will do him good.”

“And you’ll come with us?”

He sighs sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine—I’ll come. But if they don’t kill me, I’ll be bloody upset with you.”

You snort in amusement, a grin curling your lips. “Fair enough. Now drink your soup.”

“I’m not hungry. You have it.”

He shoves it away, pushing it in your direction, as he usually does. It’s a daily fight—him refusing food in favour of giving you and Matthew more, ensuring you both never went hungry despite his own hunger and rapid weight loss due to the sudden lack of food.

You give him a playful frown and hold the small cup out to him.

“Don’t make me force feed you, old man, drink it.”

—

The walls of the Quarantine Zone are a lot more daunting than you had originally thought they would be. They tower high, and the barely there movement of soldiers along the front and top of it have nerves start to build in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Surely they wouldn’t shoot without asking questions? Would they even give you a chance? What happens to you if the zone is full? Would they let you go on your merry little way?

God, you feel sick.

The ice creeping along your skin doubles, and you tighten your grip on the baby carrier strapped to your chest. Matthew hums quietly against your back, his little fingers tracing random patterns along your shirt as he bounces with your each step. Harry walks somewhat steadily beside you, his cheeks reddening with the more distance you cover.

He gives you a reassuring nod when you look to him for guidance, and you continue forward, swallowing the lump building in your throat when you become aware of them yelling about your presence.

Their guns are raised when you eventually make it closer, and it’s automatic to throw your hands up in surrender.

“We’re not infected!” you shout, hoping they’d listen.

A soldier steps forward. “On the ground, now!”

“Shit. Okay! Please, I—we’re not infected—”

“Get. On. The. Ground!”

“I have a kid! I have a—please, we’re not—”

“Get the kid out.”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You fight the tremble in your fingers as they raise to the clip across your chest, winding a supportive hand around to your back to keep Matthew from falling out of the carrier as it loosens from your torso.

After a bit of shifting, Matthew stands on shaky legs, his eyes darting between you and the few soldiers with their weapons raised.

“It’s okay, baby,” you soothe softly, “we gotta do what the man says, okay? Can you do that for mama?”

You continue to lower until your front hits the rubble covered ground, and you motion for Matthew to do the same, heart breaking as he cowers in fear and falls to his knees before copying your posture and hiding his face against the road.

More voices fill your ears, the obvious presence of more soldiers swarming from the gate causing your pulse to skyrocket as Harry lowers on the other side of the small toddler.

“Check ‘em.”

“Everything’s fine,” you murmur, keeping your gaze on Matthew and smiling when he peeks at you from between his fingers, “we’re okay. Keep your eyes on me, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It stings.

You automatically flinch away from the device someone holds at your neck, freezing when more weapons are raised in your direction. The device gives a small beep and the soldier gives a loud clear, before moving for Matthew.

He cries out at the pain, his chest heaving with his growing sobs. The guns move in his direction and you’re flying towards him before you can even think, yelping when arms pull you away from your baby before you can console him. His screams worsen.

“Please,” you beg, “he’s just a baby—!”

The soldiers remain emotionless.

Another beep, another clear.

The fingers digging into your arms loosen and then you’re free, hurriedly crawling on all fours until Matthew’s in your arms, his tear stricken face pressing into your throat. You soothe him softly, murmuring how well he did and that he’s safe with you while the soldiers move their attention to Harry.

When the device gives a final clear, another soldier steps forward, a small smile stretching his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he says, stepping forward until he’s only a step away, “but we can’t be too careful.”

It’s surreal being around people again.

For the longest time, it’s just been you, Matthew and Harry. The people left after the event had turned cruel, desperate for any remaining resources and resulting to violence left, right and centre. It’d been sheer luck that you three had escaped some of the nastier characters you’d come across during your treks. Sure, you’d lost a few supplies every now and then, but you were thankful you all were still here at least.

The man leads you into an office of sorts, with rusted old chairs to sit on while he goes about ‘registering’ you. You’re surprised at the process of it all, confused when he says you’re in luck because after this morning, there are new rooms available. What does that mean? Had something happened to the occupants?

Your stomach turns, but you dare not dwell on it.

Safety for Matthew, that’s all that matters. That’s why you’re here.

It feels like hours before you’re stepping into the sun again, lead out onto a relatively normal looking street with written directions to your new accommodation. The door bangs loudly behind you, fully closing you from the horrors of the outside world, and you try not to focus on the looks of curiosity, borderline hostility, as you start to walk further into the QZ, the height of the wall casting a large shadow over your path.

There’s a main square of sorts, filled with small stations of people selling various items. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of shitty looking food, desperate to eat something other than the random old bits and pieces you’d find through your looting, but you’d have to begin work to even afford a single half burnt bread roll. The two ration cards you had received at your ‘registration’ wouldn’t make a dent in what you’d need to afford any of it.

You pass the sellers, sharing a sullen look with Harry as he too realises he wouldn’t have enough for any of it.

There’s crowds, and you try to keep to yourself as you move, but something catches your eye, as if your sight had been automatically pulled to that direction and you’re oblivious to the people bumping into your frame.

For a moment, you’re sure you’re dreaming.

Did they end up shooting you at the gate? This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be unfolding right before your very eyes. You feel alive. You feel your pulse, your breath. You feel Matthew shift in the carrier, you hear Harry making comments about the people and the surrounding buildings.

You can’t look away.

You’re pulled in his direction, certain with every bone in your body that it’s him. It’s him.

The man turns, and his eyes are meeting yours through the crowds before you can even brace for it, and you see the moment it hits him.

He freezes, his eyes unblinking as if they don’t want to risk losing the hallucination his mind had conjured. He steps forward, and again, and again, slow in his movements, cautious.

“Joel?” You breathe, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the bustle of your surroundings and the distance between you, but he must see your lips mould his name because then he’s running, ducking through the people and heading straight your way.

You start to jog, careful not to disturb the carrier holding Matthew too much, and then he’s there. He’s there and he’s real and he’s saying your name so sweetly, a broken rasp of disbelief and a tremble taking over his hands as they raise to cup your cheeks.

You sob at his touch.

The tears flow from your eyes and you grasp at whatever you can on him, your fingers tightening around the jacket hanging from his frame as you attempt to pour two years of loss into your embrace. He cradles the back of your head, keeps your face pressed tightly against the dirtied skin of his throat as he mutters brokenly about how he thought you were dead and that he’d missed you so damn much.

“Oh baby boy,” he rumbles, noticing the baby carrier and the toddler within it with tears filling his lash line, “look at you.”

You hurriedly unclip the harness and sweep Matthew out of it, bringing him into the middle of your embrace. Joel runs a hand along Matthew’s cheek before sweeping down and kissing him on the forehead, his tears dropping over the toddler’s cheeks in obvious relief and utter joy.

“How—”

You shake your head, nuzzling into the rough hand holding your cheek. “Later. We’ll talk later about everything, I just—god, I’ve missed you so fucking much, Joel.”

His head lowers until his forehead is pressed against yours, and his eyes flutter closed. You feel it in the simple gesture, how much he had missed you, mourned for you. He gives a small nod, followed by a quiet okay, before another presence suddenly makes themselves known.

Your body jolts with the weight hitting your side, and you jump in fright before your eyes come across a slightly skinny looking Australian Shepherd desperate for attention.

His tongue lolls from his mouth as he attempts to lap at your cheek, and you chuckle through your stream of steady flowing tears at the cheerful dog.

“Chip,” Joel grunts in slight annoyance, shoving the fluffy beast away from where he tries to jump and sniff at Matthew’s cheeks, “down—down, boy!”

“You have a dog?” You ask in curiosity, reaching out to pet the animal. Your smile widens when he eagerly nuzzles into your touch with an excited whine.

“He was wanderin’ the QZ when I came in,” Joel replies, one of his hands leaving your waist to deliver a rough rub to the dogs head, “followed me home one night and hasn’t stopped botherin’ me since. Tommy said he’d be good for me.”

“Tommy’s here? And Sarah?” You perk immediately in excitement, your eyes flying past his shoulder to look for his brother and the other part of your heart that’s been missing for years. “I’m so glad they’re alright, where are they?”

You don’t notice how considerably quiet he’s gone until you look at him. He’s defeated, guarded, his dark eyes drawn to the floor. He can’t look at you. Why can’t he look at you? What’s happened?

“Joel?”

“Sarah… she—she—”

He struggles to finish the sentence, the words stick uncomfortably on his tongue. His features twist in clear anguish and you feel the world around you shatter. Sarah, she… she’s gone? When? How?

Your heart sinks, weak and broken by the unexpected news. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the notion that you’d never see her again, that the last time you saw her was truly the last.

Regret begins to build in the pit of your stomach. That last day… you should’ve hugged her tighter, kissed her forehead, told her how much she meant to you and how lucky you were to be in her life—

The tears begin again.

“Oh Joel, I-I’m so sorry,”

You both share the heartache, wrapped in each other's arms and breathing in the other. His tight hold doesn’t loosen for a second, and you attempt to put every ounce of energy in your tired body into returning it.

The world stands still, just like it did that cursed day.

How can you be so elated that he’s here, and yet be filled with so much pain at the same time? How long has he been lost, no doubt blaming himself for his baby girl not making it to where he is now? You mourn her, mourn him for being lost, stuck on a path of despair and believing he had lost everything for so long.

What had become of him? What had the pain done to him? Surely it would’ve been pure torture for the man who practically breathed family.

Harry can wait. Introductions can wait. Food, drink, sleep—you care for none of it. Not now. All that matters is that Joel is here, truly here in the flesh, wrapped in your arms and holding the child he hasn’t seen for two years. All that matters is that you had found one another in the violent hellscape the world had become.

Peace, but that tranquillity will forever be tainted by loss, a void hanging in the midst of relief, never to be filled again.

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tags that have continuously not worked will be deleted from my taglist soon x

#joel miller x reader #joel miller f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x wife!reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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OMG HII I'M A NEW FOLLOWER AND I LOVE YOUR WORK!! May I please ask for HCs or a one shot of Ghost with his s/o being self conscious/ashamed (YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN LOL) about squirting so much that he AND the bed got soaked?? THANK YOU SO MUCH MANY KISSIES MUAH 💋💖

Ghost & König w/ an S/O who is Self Conscious about Squirting a Lot

Warnings: 18+, Sexual Content, Heavy Implications of Smut, Squirting, Insecurity, Embarrassment, Dom Ghost, Dom König, Unprotected Sex, Profanity, etc.

Ghost:

First time it happened, Ghost couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

He just stared down at where his hand connected with your cunt, your cum spattered across his arm, reaching all the way up to his elbow.

The sheets below you were covered, too, a heavy downpour of your juices coating them, soaking them.

“Fuckin’ Hell,” Ghost rasped, licking his lips.

You lay wide-eyed and stationery beneath him, chest heaving with the coat tails of your orgasm.

You’d never done that before.

And the fact that Ghost only looked upon you with a heavy gaze did nothing to soothe your nerves - did nothing to reassure you that what had just happened was normal. Or appreciated.

Sweat-skinned and face flushed with embarrassment, you tried to withdraw, to cover yourself and hide from Ghost’s dark eyes.

They were unreadable. Void of anything discernable.

Before you could pull the soaked bed sheets over you, Simon’s hand tore it from yours.

“Oh no, Princess,” he said. The corners of his lips turned up, not a smile, but one of its off-colour variants, one that spelled devious.

“I’m not lettin’ you go until you’ve covered me.”

Your eyes almost popped out of your head, face burning. You tried to object.

“You…you don’t think it’s weird?” you said, testing. Receding. “I-I don’t think I can do it again–”

“Let me put it this way,” Ghost began. He pumped his fingers into you, four strong, making you squeal, sensitive from your orgasm. He began unbuckling his belt with his other hand.

“We’re not stopping ‘til you do.”

König:

König didn’t stop pummeling into you until you’d finished.

And, upon doing so, your orgasm tearing through you, you ended up spraying.

Hard.

König felt your warm cum shoot against his abdomen, coating him in a thin layer of you.

You noticed, but your mind was far too hazy with the after effects of your high to register it properly.

König finished inside you shortly after, unable to contain himself any longer.

He flooded you, painting your insides white, much how you’d painted him.

Minutes passed, your conjoined, deep breathing filling the silence.

Head somewhat clearer, giving way to distinguishable thoughts, you looked down at König.

He was, simply put, wet.

Not damp, not moist - wet.

And then, the memory hit you.

Your heart sank.

“König…?” you said, voice meek. You watched his chest and shoulders heave, with him bent over you like a bridge, eyes screwed shut.

You went to call his name again, but his lips on yours stopped you.

Between laboured breaths, he muttered dark words into your skin as if they were incantations.

“Why did you hide this from me?” he said, breathless.

You blinked, confused.

“Wha–”

“You thought you could keep this little trick of yours a secret from me.”

He said it as if it were true. The actual truth was that you’d never done that before; not with König, not with anyone.

“I should punish you,” he said, retracting only to roll his hips against yours.

You gasped, a shock of painful euphoria tightening inside you.

“I can make you do it again,” he said. There was no mercy in his eyes. No negotiation.

“And I will.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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koenigami · 2 months

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➵ WRIOTHESLEY

synopsis : when old wounds reopen, he's relieved to have found solace in your presence wc : 1,4k tags : fem!reader, reverse comfort, fluff, little angsty bc of wrio's past

Wriothesley feels it brewing like a storm. It starts in the noon, when a light headache makes his temples throb, when his chest seems to tighten, and his scars ache as if someone is about to rip them open again.

He knows that sleep tonight won’t come easy. He always does. So instead of tossing and turning beside you, robbing you of your own rest, he prefers to stay the night in his office.

“Got some paperwork to finish. Will probably stay the night here. Love you.”

That’s the message he lets deliver to you when the dreadful feelings return like a supposedly defeated enemy. Everything seems fine until it is not. Until his concentration tends to drift off into another dimension overflowing with darkness. His thoughts leave him irritated, and unable to interact with other people without scaring them off.

At night, Wriothesley eyes the couch in his office. He contemplates whether he should try to at least close his eyes. Maybe this time he’ll fall asleep.

But he knows that a night without the vivid, gruesome images flashing before his eyes is only wishful thinking.

Instead he plunges himself into the dark space of his past. He watches small patches of blood form along the surface of the punching bag. The pain is almost impalpable, inexistent compared to what’s happening inside him right now.

His breaths are laboured as he throws jabs into the bag, one after another rubbing off more and more skin from his knuckles. There’s sweat trickling down his face and back after only a few minutes, and he realises that he’s already drained.

His thoughts, his fears, his past. They've all caught up with him in a matter of hours, pulling him left and right, almost tearing him apart.

You have to keep on fighting, Wriothesley. You can’t let them win.

Clouds obscure his vision until all he can see is red, all he hears are screams, and all he wants is peace.

But he’s not aware that oftentimes, the one thing that you need the most is already right in front of you. He’s not aware that he could have lessened the pain of his restless nights a long time ago.

The mechanical sounds of sliding metals and working machinery catch his attention, and the doors open. The clouds suddenly disappear, and what remains blinds him.

Like a miner getting out of the deepest parts of a humid cave, he feels the rays of light warm his skin, and he swears it makes him shiver in delight.

“One of the guards told me I’d find you here.” Your voice bounces off the walls as you approach him slowly. The ring in the middle of the room is empty, though a single glance at Wriothesley is enough to conclude that he comes down here to engage himself in different kinds of fights.

“Y/n? Love, what are you doing here?” His words sound garbled as he speaks, and he’s reminded to take a few gulps from his water bottle.

“Could ask you the same.” You eye him carefully while wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself. Just like the sea, the temperature inside the Fortress of Meropide seems to drop drastically at night. “Is this your so-called paperwork? Or have you already grown so tired of me that you prefer your workplace over our shared bed?”

Your words obviously carry no malice as you offer him a lopsided smile. Wriothesley can tell that you’re worried though. And tired.

“You know that’s not true.” He watches you pluck a handkerchief out of your pocket, and sighs when you use it to wipe away some of the sweat beading his hairline. “It’s late, you should have stayed at home.”

“You should have come home, Wriothesley.” There’s a change in your tone, and just your entire demeanour, when you spot the raw flesh and bruised skin on the back of his hands. But you swallow the sadness that the sight of him brings you. You push aside the disappointment of him not wanting to share his burden with you.

You suppress the anger and resentment that you hold for all the people that have let down Wriothesley’s younger self. The people who have hurt him, the monsters that still haunt him. Wherever they may be right now, you wish them nothing but utter agonising hell.

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” Your eyes skim over the damaged knuckles before you pull him to the edge of the ring on which he leans against.

“You should have seen the other guy.” He smirks while his gaze follows your form wandering around the room, looking for some clean bandages and a bowl to pour water in.

“Sure, his Grace has done quite the number on a sand-filled bag.” You roll your eyes as you find your place back between his legs, wetting and wringing a cloth out. “And on himself.”

Watching you tend to his roughed up skin with utter gentleness, Wriothesley’s again reminded how well his big hand fits into your smaller one. Hands that have destroyed so much, harmed so many, held by hands that look so delicate and which are used for mending and caring. The times that he has felt undeserving of them, of you, have been way too many, though he knows that you’d get upset if he told you so.

It catches him off guard when the sensation of your soft, pillowy lips spreads along his freshly bandaged hands. Like a light breeze in the morning, you sweep away the remaining clouds from the previous stormy night, leaving the newly risen sun in your wake. The only difference is that the sun does not choose its target. You do, and you chose him.

Something about him makes him worthy of your love, of your time, of your touch. He’s not sure what it is, because to be frank he has never deemed himself as someone with extraordinary qualities and talents. He’s just an ordinary man with a less ordinary past. But maybe it’s exactly the former one that has made you choose him. You chose Wriothesley. Not the Duke. Not his Grace. Not a former criminal. Just him and all of his rough edges.

“Let’s go up and sleep, hm?” His hand cups the side of your face, the other settles on your waist as he pulls you in closer until your chest is flush against his. Wriothesley’s cheek nestles over your collarbone, and you feel his warm breath fan over your skin when he heaves a deep sigh.

“I want to stay like this for a while. Is that okay?” You hum approvingly and watch his body relax against yours as the tension slowly but surely leaves his shoulders. A small groan slips past his lips when your fingers start tracing the muscles along his back. Like a map, you have memorised all his sore spots, all his ticklish spots, and the ones that are the most sensitive.

Wriothesley feels one of your hands slide further up to the nape of his neck. You start twirling his hair around your fingers, combing through the messy and sweaty strands, and lightly scratching his scalp in a way that makes his eyes droop, and body feel heavy.

You hear him mumble incoherently something beneath his breath and you laugh softly.

“What was that?”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He says it so effortlessly as he gazes up at you with hooded eyes that seem to hold the entire world inside them. The corner of his lip twitches and you wonder if it is because he can feel your accelerated heartbeat.

“Well, you aren’t bad yourself either.” It’s when your chest quakes the slightest bit beneath his head, and when your sweet laugh reaches his ears-

It’s right then that he knows that he’s fine. For now, he’s fine.

And when you’re later on lying on the too short and too uncomfortable leather couch in his office with your body draped over his. When his past flashes in front of his eyes in form of nightmares. And when you hold him through every single one of them, caress his arms and chest in hopes that it will calm him down and ground him.

It’s right then that he realises that he’ll be fine as long as he has you by his side.

#wriothesley #wriothesley genshin impact #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley drabble #wriothesley x you

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ivesambrose · 3 months

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𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𐙚

Its been a rather cold month so I decided to channel something warm to look forward to 🤍

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at [email protected] with your name, date of birth and query

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Client Testimonials & feedback

Thank you for the tip 🌹

Picture 1

You may have been dealing with challenging situations or people who are quick to throw jabs at you or throw a wrench in your plans. This may have led you to question your own intuition and potential making you scared and hesitant to take a step forward or take any risks in the fear of failure. You'll realize that their scattered mindset and opinions aren't supposed to be your core beliefs. You're not supposed to take advice from people whose life you don't see yourself living. Rather, you should focus on what makes you bloom from within.

You can look forward to a shift in belief system that will in turn change your entire life and reality for the better.

You can also look forward to something that excites you in the form of a rewarding opportunity (especially in terms of career for most of you) that you have been wishing for or were being patient for the longest time.

You can look forward to something valuable that will grow with time and won't be a fleeting thing. You'll be able to trust your intuition and judgement again. You'll be receiving nurturing and quality connections in your life as well. People who care and support you and your dreams.

All of this comes at the small cost of slowly letting go of your self sabotaging tendencies.

Timing: Coming 21 days

Picture 2

You've recently fathomed the power of your thoughts and words and how time and circumstances are irrelevant when it comes to them materalizing. This has been happening a lot but in the past you have questioned them but now you've grown more adamant, strict and assertive. You've learnt to stand your ground. You want to fully step into your power more than anything and allow no one not even yourself to stand in your way.

You can certainly look forward to a completion and celebration. Your labour has been steady and your harvest will be abundant. Enjoy your prosperity. You'll also be embarking on a new journey in your life, ideas and outlook will expand, no one will be able to confine you.

There's a lot of passion coming your way, it will allow you to overcome any fear you may face.

That long awaited renewed hope, clarity and peace is finally yours. You can actually see your path ahead, the destination that you'll reach, so you'll choose to embrace and enjoy your journey.

You can also look forward to a physical glow up, being appreciated, being proud of yourself and your achievements. Shedding guilt. As well as connecting with people or existing friends who feel like your tribe, with whom you don't have to mask your true self to be loved and accepted.

Timings : coming 14 days, stay loyal to your end goals. (September for some of you too)

Picture 3

You can see the dots connecting in your life, maybe you don't know how exactly, you may not have the outline laid out in front of you but when you aren't overthinking it, you realize how one thing leads to another and gain momentum. Things aren't exactly as a standstill as you think. You're extremely disciplined and focused, so whatever you have set sights on is bound to happen or be yours.

You may not realize how powerful your esoteric gifts are but you will. You can look forward to your visions, dreams, written words actually coming true as though it were a prophecy. Be mindful of the people you share your wisdom and insights with. I do see you aren't as happy with your current social circle or people you interact with. You trust very few and you sometimes feel very isolated. But you excellent foresight and there's always a silver lining in your circumstances.

Life will begin to change as the days get warmer and longer.

There's so much beauty in you, you don't even realize that you're a muse to many or are about to be. You might go into hiding only to rise from the ashes as something wild and free. The transformation that you seek is ongoing and something you know is inevitable. Celebrate it when time comes or start from today itself.

Timings: Coming 12 days, summer season (July and August is standing out for some of you as well)

#tarot community #free readings #divination community #pick a card #pac #pick a picture #pac reading #tarot readers of tumblr #psychics of Tumblr

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themultifandomgal · 2 months

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Tommy Shelby- I’m Not Doing That Again

“Every woman has one” Polly argues while flitting around YN and Tommys shared bedroom getting everything ready for when YN go into labour

“I had one with Charlie, I’m not doing that again. If I shit then so be it” YN cross her arms stubbornly over her large stomach “tell her Ada”

“I’m not involved in this conversation” Ada holds her hands up shaking her head. YN looks over to Esme who’s smiling

“Polly I don’t want an enema”

“Love it stops infection”

“It’s embarrassing that’s what it is, having your husbands aunt shave you then stick a tube in your arse to make you shit. I’d rather just shit the bed while pushing. Ada didn’t have one with Karl”

“He didn’t leave us with much choice” Polly mutters “right I’ll be back later with supper. Please try and relax”

“See you later” Ada gives her sister in law a weak smile before leaving. Esme walks over to her with a mischievous look

“Where has she put the enema kit?”

“Over there” YN frowns pointing towards the box on top of the dresser “why?”

“Well it would be a shame if it went missing wouldn’t it?”

“She will know it was one of us. Thanks though”

“Not if the kids run wild in the house” Esme winks at YN and then takes the enema kit with her.

“I’M GONNA CHOP HIS DICK OFF AFTER THIS!” Tommy hears his wife scream while she’s upstairs in their room giving birth

“Thats what you said last time now where’s the enema kit? I put it up here” Polly stands with her hands on her hips looking at the dresser. She then turns to YN lying on the bed with Esme holding her hand “YN where have you hidden it?”

“I haven’t” not a lie, but YN knows where Esme has hidden the tube

“Well I suppose we will have to do this the old fashioned way, we just need to find….”

“No please Polly, i don’t want one, please I’m begging you”

“Pol look she’s gonna want to start pushing soon, let’s just leave it”

“Fine” YN finally relaxes looking over at Esme.

Downstairs Tommy paces the living room with a whiskey in hand. Arthur, John, Finn and Micheal all sit with their own drinks on the large sofa. All that can be heard is the shouting of profanities and cursing Tommys name

“Bloody hell, she’s a true Shelby’s ain’t she Tom” Arthur chuckles

“Where’s Charlie?” Finn asks

“YN’s mums” Tommy replies still pacing around, then stops when he hears feet running down the stairs. Ada runs past her brothers and cousin and goes straight into the kitchen to get some more warm water

“Are they here yet?” Micheal asks

“D’you think I’d been here running around if they were”

“THOMAS FUCKING SHELBY YOU BETTER RUN ONCE THIS CHILDS OUT OF ME” YN Shelby, the only person Tommy is afraid off. This makes the Shelby’s all chuckle, but Tommys pacing continues

“Will you sit the fuck down? You know YN will kill ya if you wear out her carpet” John says before drinking the rest of his drink. Tommy finally sits down on the sofa as Ada makes her way back upstairs with the water.

After hours of pacing and drinking, the screams go quiet, that is until the cries of a baby can be heard. Tommy lifts his head up as John slaps him on the shoulder

“Congratulations brother”

“Tommy” Polly says walking down the stairs “come meet your daughter” in an instant Tommy is up and making his was to his and YN’s bedroom.

Walking in he sees Esme and Ada tidying up and putting some sheets in a bucket. His wife sat up in bed with a baby in her arms suckling on her breast

“No more Tommy. I’m not doing that again”

“Whatever you want, as long as you and our kids are happy I don’t care if we don’t have anymore” Tommy walks over and places a kiss on his wife’s head.

#tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x wife #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine

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discopaddock · 9 months

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ALL ABOUT THAT NOSE - DANIEL RICCIARDO

PAIRING: dad!daniel ricciardo x fem!mum!reader

WORDS: 1,9k+

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: baby's crying, max and lando being silly boys

Daniel Ricciardo was like a good wine - if he was getting older, he was looking better.

That was something that Y/N L/N knew too well. She had known Daniel since she was 16 years old.

The woman remembered too well the moment when they met. It was summer break before girl's second class in high school when the L/N family was in Perth to meet the wealthy aunt.

“Oh my, I'm so sorry” the young girl gasped, when she collided with a taller boy. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know if she was going to cry or she was just going to throw up, because she had gotten into a fight with her father, then ran away from aunt's house without phone and got lost in Perth.

“It's okay, no need to worry" was said in a cheerful voice. “I'm Daniel, by the way” a black haired boy said with a large smile on his face.

“My name is Y/N” “Then, it's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N” he spoke, making L/N cry. “Why? What? No crying! Stop crying, please!” Daniel started calming her down due to the fact he had no idea what to do. “There's no need to cry, Y/N” he told her slowly but she started to cry even worse. “What happened?” he asked finally, after getting her to sit on a bench.

“I got lost,” she answered with a tiny voice. Daniel felt sorry for the girl.

“You're not from here, are you?” the boy questioned while getting a seat next to her. “No, I'm from Canberra actually” she said, making Ricciardo raise his eyebrow.

“From Canberra? Are you related to Mrs. Elodie Fanning?”

“Um, yes. She's my aunt” she told him, trying to wipe her tears.

“Great then! I live in a house next to her! I'll walk you there, Y/N” he announced, getting up from the bench.

“Thank you” she said and the boy only smiled at her. Next he trip over shoe laces and almost fell down.

“Ow, sorry, miss Y/N” he laughed and walked her home.

And after that day, they stayed in touch. For the rest of their lives.

Y/N was his biggest fan and supporter. She supported him in his rights and wrongs.

Daniel was also her biggest supporter and fan. He was for her every time, when she got a new role in some film or theatre play, same as her - she was trying her best to be at his every race or just watch them on TV.

It was pretty hard for her, because she wasn't so wealthy, her parents neither, but when aunt Eloide heard about her relationship with Ricciardo, she gave her some money for travelling.

And they were here, in the car on their way to the hospital.

“I know you can stand it for just a moment, love,” the man said, looking at his wife, who was holding her belly, where was the cause of her pain.

“Daniel, faster, because I'm about to give birth to him in this car, for fucks sake” she said and Ricciardo only pressed the gas pedal even harder. this car.

“We're here, little frog” he announced after two minutes, and quickly got out of his newest Ferrari.

“Don't call me like that!” she screamed.

He helped his beautiful woman get out of the car, and then walked her to the reception, where the nurses gave her a wheelchair and took her to the operating room, leaving Daniel alone.

“First kid?” asked one of the nurses, while the one was helping Y/N to breathe. “Yes, my husband is freaking out,” the woman answered. “He says all the time that Otto must have had my nose, because mine looks better than his. I'm hoping that it will be true either”

The nurses laughed, and then Y/N felt another cramp. They started to appear an hour ago, and then they were systematic, appearing every two minutes.

After ten hours of painful labour, Daniel could finally meet with his exhausted wife and sleepy son.

“You did so amazing, baby,” he said to the woman, before kissing her forehead. “I couldn't be more proud of you my love” Daniel added, watching her feeding the newborn baby.

“Thanks, Dan. He's like two hours old and yet he has your Ric Energy” she said with a tiny voice, making the man laugh.

“He's a Ricciardo, isn't he?”

“He is, definitely”

“He's such a beautiful boy,” said Anna, Y/N's mother, looking at her smiling grandson.

“He's my son, of course he's beautiful,” Daniel joked, making everyone in the living room laugh.

“It's mostly because he has got my nose, not his” was said by the actress, which made Ricciardo roll his brown eyes. “Don't even do that again, Daniel. It was you who wanted him to have my nose” she added and then took a seat on her husband's lap.

First time when Y/N and Daniel had shown up at the paddock was totally different than all the previous times, even if the woman had shown there with a pregnant belly.

“Where's the kid?” was said by Lando and Max and it was the first thing that the couple heard, when they entered the Red Bull's hospitality.

“At home, he's four weeks old, what did you expect?” Daniel asked with raised eyebrows.

“We wanted to meet him! Everyone wanted it!” Max answered, making the couple laugh. “It's not our fault, that you don't want anyone in your house since he was born”

“And that's why none of you is his godfather” Ricciardo said, making his friends go away.

“Don't talk to us ever again!” was screamed by Lando, which made Y/N laugh. “It's about you too, Y/N!” Max added.

“I love them,” the woman started, when they took seats on the couch in Daniel's room. “but they are more like our kids. I wouldn't let none of them to be Otto's godfather” “Me either, love”

“So who is the godfather?” Verstappen asked, while his and Norris' heads were sticking out of the door.

“Timothée” Dan said shortly and after that both drivers entered the room. “What?!” Lando and Max were shocked.

“What what? He's a nice guy after all, not like you two” Dan joked. He was laughing at his friends. They were cute actually.

“What about godmother? Who is she?”

“Oh, we don't know yet” Mrs. Ricciardo said, shrugging. “We'll tell you both, when we find an ideal person, don't worry” she announced and sent them kisses, which also did Daniel. “Now bye bye, you both are needed. Bye!” Ricciardo led them out the door and again sat near to his wife. In next three hours he gave an interview, that melted everyone's heart.

“Thank you, Y/N, for these amazing fifteen years that you spent with me. Thank you for your support and that you had never despaired in me. And then thank you for our son, who you just gave birth to a month ago, I couldn't be more proud of anyone in this world than you. I also wanted to thank you for saying yes to me twelve years ago. I loved you then, I love you right now, and I will love until my death. Thank you for everything” Daniel ended his monologue and started looking for his beloved wife, who was crying because of his words.

“I love you endlessly, Dan,” she whispered, when they hugged. “And I love you, dolly” he replied with his biggest and prettiest smile on face. “You're crying again” he laughed, starting wiping the tears. “Just like on the first day, right?” she joked. “Yep, just like then” he said, kissing her nose after. “I want to see all of these photos that they took. We should have one of them at home” the woman said quietly to his ear, making his smile even bigger. “Yes, we definitely should”

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f1 “(...) I loved you then, I love you right now, and I will love until my death. Thank you for everything”

That's just a short piece of @ danielricciardo's monologue. Watch it all on formula1.com.

4517 comments

charles_leclerc My favourite couple on the grid!❤️

↑ charles_lecat omg charles this is soo cute!!!!

yourusername and i love him endlessly since i was sixteen and i will love him till death do us part.

↑ danielricciardo 🥲❤️

↑ danandyn @yourusermane ur both were made for each other 🥺🥺🥺

lewishamilton and I still remember this little danny who was asking everybody on the paddock if they had met his beautiful girlfriend in 2011

↑ f1wags NO WAY HE DID THAT

↑ dr3love omg hes too much😭😭😭

tchalamet my beloved parents idc

↑ tchalametdaily WELL HELLO THERE T

↑ liochalamet cant believe ur commenting on f1 post timo

landonorris I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE HEART 💓 💓💓

↑ carlossainz55 Honestly same Lando😊

maxverstappen1 My favourite couple in the world, both deserve all the best ❤️‍🩹

↑ ilovef1 one time max speaking facts

sebastianvettel Ahh my favourite people, deserve the best!💝

First time the Ricciardo family showed up at the paddock was during the Austin Grand Prix. Of course Daniel was dressed as a cowboy. He just loved that GP.

Even though he wasn't participating that year.

Otto was looking everywhere from his stroller. He was looking at his papa, who was wearing a big, unknown hat and smiling.

Little guy was only three months old and was not ready yet to see his father dressed like that, so he started to cry.

“No, no, no, sweetie, no crying” Y/N started, pulling her son from the stroller. She hugged him and told her husband to take off his cowboy hat. “You will dress as a cowboy for Halloween instead” she announced cradling the baby in her arms.

Otto finally stopped crying, when all of them went to Daniel's room and Y/N fed him.

“We will stay here, okay Dan?” she asked, looking at the man, who was singing his son lullaby, so he could fall asleep easier. “Everything for him” he whispered, putting the sleeping boy to his stroller. “Give me a kiss” he said walking to his wife. She stood up and when he was In Front of her, she placed a kiss on his lips. “I'm so lucky that I have you. If I didn't meet you, I wouldn't be me” he announced holding her in a thigh hug.

“I'm hearing Lando's coming” she said after a while, hearing Brit's footsteps. And yeah, she was so right, because like thirty seconds later a curly haired guy entered the room. He had rosy cheeks and a huge smile on his face.

“There's my favourite boy! And his parents” he said and hugged Y/N. “It's amazing to see you. You look so good and healthy, oh my!” Lando announced, making the woman blush because of the hormones. “And you look the same as last week” he said to Daniel, who only rolled his eyes.

He finally stepped in front of the boy and started to cry.

“He- Oh- He's so pretty” Lando said with his shaky voice and tears on his face. “I can't believe that Daniel is one of the creators of this miracle,” Norris said. “The little one is too perfect”

“Oh, Landon, don't cry” Y/N hugged the younger one and rubbed his back. “We know that he is the prettiest baby on the globe, we do. It's because he has my nose, not Daniel's”

“Hey!” Ricciardo delicately slapped his wife's back.

It was always about the nose.

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danielricciardo 3 months of having you on the world little one. 3 best months of my life❤️

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pupcuck · 3 months

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BEEP !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. ddlg, pacifier, cockwarming, p in v, fluffy smut, implied age gap, icky ddlg stuff .. like yk

note. we r trying this again.. tags didn’t work last time bc tumblr hates me :( commission 4 the loveliest sweetest ever @miss-oranje-disco-dancer :3 !!! THANK U SM FOR THE COMM love u with all my heart hope u enjoy this and that there are no mistakes… if u would like to commission or tip me the info is in my pinned :3

Leon hears you before he sees you. There is one sound that grates on him and another that makes his dick as hard as it can get. At least, his brain is telling him he should be hard, and he knows he should be, but his dick is crazy stubborn. Stubborn is his way of describing it, his doctor calls it an erectile dysfunction. Not true. His dick functions when it wants to function, okay?

Taking Viagra is optional these days, shit don’t work for him no more. He takes it for fun, reminiscing on the good ol’ days when his dick got hard from the way the wind blew. It doesn’t work so it’s redundant and Leon has started to think he just likes popping pills. Makes him feel twenty-seven and hot. He’s Viagra-resistant. Like Super Gonorrhoea is to antibiotics.

The squeak of your teeth against the rubbery nub of your pacifier is a delight. All the blood in his brain rushes south like a crew scrambling to raise the masts on a ship, it has nowhere to go though, no dick to raise. You've unlocked a new level of excitement within Leon, instead of boners he gets blood clots. How cute. Really, that’s so fun, ain’t it?

The beep! of that goddamn plastic scanner, however, is not welcome in this house. Especially not in his home office turned place of refuge. Leon swears to God he’s developed misophonia. As your daddy, that kind of behaviour is unacceptable, he shouldn't be swearing at all, but this is Leon speaking, not daddy. Daddy is a saint, Leon is pissed off. He only wanted to do something nice for his baby. Nothing ever works out in his favour, he must’ve been born under an unlucky star, or walked under a lot of ladders, crossed one too many black cats.

That one good deed backfired, and now he would rather— Oh, shit.

“Uh-oh,” you mumble, the start of a cheeky grin lining your face. The pacifier muffles your words, it’s plain pink and heart-shaped like your ass. ‘Cause you’re a tasteful little thing. No excessive prints, no lettering that reads Daddy's Girl ♥︎ which Leon had perversely hoped for you to choose.

Uh-oh indeed. He has filled out an entire (probably) super important form in a pink gel pen. Not just any pink gel pen, a strawberry-scented, glittery pink gel pen.

“What did daddy say about this, baby?” Leon asks, and he’s trying to be serious, but god are you cute, and since when has he cared about work? Hunnigan will give him an earful, he wishes for a mouthful, that he’ll ignore because Leon is so kind. He cares so much about saving the world and whatnot.

(Paperwork doesn’t save the world anyway, he saves it periodically, she should cut him some slack.)

“You can’t come into daddy’s office when he’s not home.” That’s a rule. Written on a Miffy notepad in, you guessed it, pink glitter gel pen. A combined effort to revamp the Ten Commandments. Rule number five - Thou shalt not enter Daddy’s place of labour. God, he should do stand-up.

You shrug, pointing at your pacifier in an act of defiance. The scanner remains gripped tightly in your hand, and he can tell you’re itching to make it beep! once more.

Leon hooks his finger in the curved handle of your pacifier, there’s resistance, you hold onto it, clamped down on the nub— He tickles your tummy and out it pops.

“Not fair!” You wipe the spit from your chin on your sleeve. A pout forming at the injustice of it all.

“You can’t come into daddy’s office when he’s not home,” he repeats, “I think you should apologise to Daddy.”

Slowly, you turn around to bare your ass to him, the panties you’re wearing have an oversized bow sewn to the back of them. The fabric is slightly wrinkled from where you’ve been sitting and playing, he smooths it out.

Leon’s never seen these before, they look expensive, silk not cotton. He reminds himself to check his bank account when you leave. He’ll forget until he sees you wearing an even nicer pair later on in the week. The cycle repeats. You are living one lavish life off a civil servant’s salary.

“You’re too big for spankings, aren’t you, big girl?” Leon’s hands are gentle on your hips, he turns you back around. “Big girls say sorry.”

Petulance comes and goes. You’re a good girl at heart, bottom lip quivering when you lurch forward to sit in his lap. “Sorry, Daddy,” you sniffle.

“Aw, baby,” he coos. “It’s okay, daddy isn’t—“

Beep!

You scanned his dick. Good one. Sneaky little thing. He oughta go back on his words and spank you raw.

“You think you’re funny, huh, little lady?” Leon huffs out a laugh, and you nod while giggling. So proud of yourself. “Alright, get outta here.” He stands you up, but you crawl under his desk like a pet. The cutest little bedbug in all of history. Leon would never call pest control on you. Pinky swear.

The scanner sits by his feet, and you rest your head on his thigh, watching him work idly. Then you grow bored, naughty hands making their way up his legs. In one swift motion, you tug the front of his sweats down, his flaccid cock drops onto his thigh. Limp and sad. It’s ugly like this, Leon is more than a little ashamed. So… So not dick-like. Innocuous. Harmless.

(Not that his dick was causing any harm before, maybe to your cervix, but never on purpose. Only ‘cause you asked him to fuck you like that. His little lady wants it rough.)

To put it simply, shit looks like a fucking worm. You bat at his cock like a kitten, tongue sticking out to lick over the half-hidden tip.

“Okay,” Leon says. This is happening.

“Mmph…” You engulf the tip in your warm mouth, suckling like you do your pacifier, there’s the slightest scrape of teeth, Leon doesn’t mind.

“That sending you to sleep, cutie?” Leon pats your head as you blink up at him sleepily. He wants to take you to work with him. Let you set up your toys beneath his desk, hand you a juice box, a fruit snack, his cock at your will. Put it in your mouth, jerk him off, sit on it. Yeah. Sounds like a dream. That should be his treat for all the world-saving he does. No bonus, just a Bring Your Girlfriend to Work Day. Bring Your Girlfriend to Work and Engage in Public Sex With Her Everyday. That’s more like it.

Who else is going to warm his cock when it’s feeling all alone? Hunnigan most certainly won’t. And he might’ve wanted that before, but Leon S. Kennedy has been domesticated, and the only mouth he wants on his dick is yours. You do a damn good job at it. Treat his dick so well, that soft fuck don’t deserve it.

You pull off of his cock with a slurp. The drool pooling in your mouth dribbles down your chin, you use his sweats as a napkin, rubbing your face into the fabric to clean yourself up. Your mess is his mess. He finds it cute.

“Baby’s all done?” Leon’s thumb traces the shape of your lip, your Cupid’s bow, your puffy bottom lip. Always juts out ‘cause you’re always pouting about one thing or the other. Leaning into his palm, you shake your head, shifting from your knees to your butt. Cross-legged on the ground you push the gas cylinder on his spinny chair. There is the deflated sound of his chair sinking and you hum in satisfaction, level with his cock.

“Careful, lift your little fingers,” he warns when you grab the underside of his seat to try and wheel him closer. You do as he says, anything to get his cock in your mouth. Leon wheels forward, and you situate yourself between his thighs once more, lips wrapping around his dick. You take inch by inch, closing your eyes once you get to the midway point, then you swallow around his cock— Fuck, that got him twitching. Your eyes open, and you giggle, the vibration goes straight to his core. His cock grows thicker and heavier by the second, tip fat and leaky as it drip-drops directly down your throat.

“Look at you go,” Leon chuckles. “You did that all on your own, baby.” No Viagra needed when he has you.

You smooch the head, smearing his pre over your lips like a coat of gloss, then you trail kisses along the shaft as you do down his midriff.

“Always tryin’ that, it’s not gonna work.” He clicks his tongue, the sound of your struggle is cute, you choke on spit while trying to fit Leon’s balls in your mouth. It’s real fucking cute. No other girl has ever loved on his balls like you do. He appreciates it. You’re a proper whore, Leon says that with love.

“‘S gonna, Daddy,” you insist in your whiniest voice.

“Alright, alright, it’s gonna work.”

It does not work. Daddy’s always right, you should know that, sweetheart.

You gaze up at him, a string of spit connecting your lips to his spit-coated balls. Whole lotta spit. You’re lucky he likes it messy. You settle for sucking on the rounded bottom of them, tongue following the seam that runs up the middle.

“You like it down there so much, cutie,” he says, fondness manifesting in his dick finally managing to stand tall and proud like an American.

“Mwah.” You place one more sloppy kiss on the underside of his cock, right on a vein that comes to the surface. His dick casts a shadow on your face. Real good view from up here. Makes his shit look huge.

Leon gets stupid when he’s horny. His brain activity is low already, when he’s turned on his brain activity is nonexistent. When he sits you on his desk, there is no concern for the paperwork that gets crumpled under your butt. Paperwork that’s been passed on to him by the US government, by the damn President. Paperwork that has been subjected to abuse by not only a gel pen, but now by your cute ass, and your drippy cunt. Not his girl’s fault she has such a sloppy pussy. Forgive her, Mr. President. Not Leon’s fault he gets her so wet. Cut down my workload, Mr. President.

“Oh no, my baby.” Leon stands between your spread thighs, frowning as he thumbs the wet patch staining the crotch of your panties. “Got ‘em all messy, sweetheart, what're we gonna do with you?”

“Oh no, daddy,” you coo at him, a dopey smile on your face.

“Cheeky.” Leon kisses your forehead, presses his thumb into the centre of the wet patch, the fabric dips and sinks into your spongy hole. “She’s so greedy.” He takes your panties off, not without turning them inside out to suck on the wet patch. If you’re embarrassed about it, you don’t complain. “I think daddy needs to give you a kiss down here, baby.”

“Lotsa kisses.” You nod in agreement.

“Yeah? Want daddy to kiss your princess parts?” Shit, that is one fucked up phrase. Always messes him up. Knocks the air out of his lungs. It’s just true though. A hard fact. You do have the prettiest princess cunt Leon has ever seen. It just sounds so dirty. But you preen when he says it, and your clit twitches, and your pussy drools. On that very important paperwork. “That’s what you need, isn’t it? Need your daddy to kiss these sweet princess parts.”

Leon’s first priority is your clit. Poor thing is all swollen. His pointer finger drags through the middle of your cunt, parts your folds and circles your bud. You’re trembling in anticipation, and that single finger is almost too much.

“‘S not a kiss, daddy,” you tell him, brows knit together.

He flicks your clit and your hips jolt. The IKEA desk holds up well. Leon deserves to be a little mean, you’ve put him through so much. That stupid scanner makes him trigger-happy. “Okay, my bad, Miss Know-it-all.”

When he gets down to business, you pet his head as a reward, and Leon takes it. He latches onto your clit, lips smacking noisily. Your pussy wets his scruffy face, Leon would like to wear your scent to work in the morning. With each broad lick to your cunt, there’s another gush of slick. And he groans into your pussy ‘cause fuck he could live between your thighs— God, he wonders if this is a fix for barely functioning alcoholics. Pussy. If he eats enough - which Leon does, he’s generous when it comes to head - he might sober up.

His tongue fucks into your hole, his nose bumping your clit as he moves his head from side to side. Must look like he’s motorboating your pussy. Not far off from that. “Oh, that’s right.” You grind your hips into him. “Mmm-Mmm-Mmm-“ Leon moans with each push of his tongue, sounds kinda ridiculous. “That’s good, fuck daddy’s mouth, sweetheart—“

“Stop…” Your breath is caught in your throat. “Stop talkin’ daddy!” You sob, fingers tangled in his hair, using it to force him deeper and deeper, hips moving in tandem.

Leon smiles into you, and you don’t let go of his hair until you’re reduced to tears, making an even bigger mess on his desk as your body shakes. It hit you hard. Poor baby. Blubbering and all sorts. When you free him, Leon moves to kiss you, rubs his pussy-wet stubble all over your face, swallows your complaints.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Leon leaves wet kisses on your neck. “Daddy’s got you, hm? Daddy’s right here.” You’re still trembling, grabbing at his shoulders when he rolls his hips forward, the leaky head of his cock meeting your clit in a disgusting wet kiss.

You shudder, toes curling in your pink socks. Leon soothes you, stroking your back as he eases into your princess cunt. “Easy, baby, be a good girl for me.”

Your cunt sucks him in, doesn’t take long for him to be buried inside of you. He rolls his hips forward, slow and steady. You gasp, throwing your head back and knocking a pot of pens onto the floor when your hands move to grip the edge of his desk.

Like this, with your back arched and your hips raised, cunt swallowing him whole, you’re the prettiest. When you’re slutting yourself out on his dick. Sorry. Leon’s only a man. This is how he thinks, how he’s wired to be, he can’t help it. You’re so fucking hot it drives him nuts.

The more you arch, the better it feels, he gives lazy thrusts that somehow manage to hit just right ‘cause you keen and fuck yourself on him, letting out hiccuped sobs of Daddy.

Daddy, daddy, daddy.

It’s all you can say. Fuck.

“I love you, baby,” Leon says. “I love you, daddy loves you.”

Oh, and you cum so hard he thinks you’re about to blackout. You don’t. But you do squirt. Pushing his cock out with the force of your high, Leon forces his dick further into you— The rush of liquid hits his skin in bursts, and you’re squeezing him tight, hole clenching like crazy in second-long intervals.

“Daddy… I love you.” Your words are slurred, but you never miss the opportunity to tell him how much you love him. “Love you more.”

“Not… Not possible.” Leon almost whines when he cums. Almost. You scratch behind his ears, it’s like you’re saying There you go, good daddy! Like he’s a dog. Leon is a dog, not a real dog, but a human dog. The pervert kind of dog.

He fills you up like a creampuff, and when his cock slips out, dribbles of his seed dripping from the tip, Leon’s quick to use his thumbs to keep your pussy spread.

“Push it out, baby.” He watches your hole twitch, milky cum spilling out as you exert your pussy. “Good girl, you’re such a good girl.” Leon kisses you hard, cradles the back of your head. “Daddy’s good girl.”

Leon helps you stand, his fingertips mould to the flesh of your ass when he gives it a squeeze. You’re a tender little darling, wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him. When his chin slots over your shoulder, and your scent is sweet on his nose, Leon gapes at the sight of his soggy paperwork. Unfortunately, Leon won’t even be fired for insolence, he’ll just have to face Hunnigan. Something he can’t do while sober. Could do it while pussy drunk though. Never thought about that.

“I think,” Leon starts, hoists you back onto the desk so he can pick you up, “it’s bath time.” You’re nodding off in his arms, barely able to cling onto him. He manages to get you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the counter. “Or is it naptime?”

“Naptime,” you mumble, wincing at the icy counter on your warmed skin.

“Whatever you say, baby.” Leon cleans you up, diligent in his role as Daddy. Would never let his sweetheart go to bed like that. “There we go, fresh as a daisy,” he claims post-towel wipe down.

“Sticky.” You always have a complaint for him. But it’s okay, he loves you. You’re his spoiled little girl.

“Okay, so then is it bath time?” He raises a brow and you shake your head.

“No! Naptime, daddy!” You loop your arms around his neck. “Up.”

“You’re so bossy, you know that?” Leon says while smiling. “Big fuckin’ baby, what am I gonna do with you?”

“Bad words,” you scold, tapping your finger on his lips.

“Daddy can say bad words.” He takes you to bed, fluffs up the pillows for you like he's never done for anyone else. “But you’re a little baby, you can’t say bad words.”

And for once, you’re so sleepy you have nothing bratty to say in return. “Okay, daddy, sleep now,” you say, rolling onto your side to hide your face in his chest.

“Okay, baby,” he laughs quietly, holding you close. “Sleeping now.”

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