chaieanne

Latest Posts by chaieanne

Prompt #1180

"I'm feeling kinda lazy today."

"You're lazy every day."

When exactly did Sebastian Stan get bald? It should've been in Easter, so we could've called him our own Easter Egg.

lettin virgy simon get between your legs 👅

his blunt nails skitter up over your thighs, grabbing and pulling at the soft fat braced over your hipbones. he’s forcing and bending you into a melting mess, pressuring you into different angles, letting his lips suckle you up sweetly.

“s-slow, simon, calm down.” you gasp, pressing the heel of your palm into the top of his skull. body going shrill when his inexperienced tongue licks and sharp teeth snag and bite. fingertips spreading and kneading.

n he pulls away from you, a lewd “pop” and a pretty, glistening string of spit follow him. n his breath is shallow and heavy, chest heaving as he catches up to his racing heart, brain fuzzy from lack of oxygen.

he pulls his hands away, letting them rest easy on the sheets. “i-im sorry, mama,” he whispers, glossy eyes looking up at you. “i’ll be gentle, i’m sorry.”

that’s all my horniess for right now guys sorry 💔

Sincerely to whoever made an hc of Toji calling Reader 'Mama', may your nastiest fantasies come to life. 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

JJK TWITTER LINKS

make sure to log into twitter / x beforehand !

𐙚 TOJI FUSHIGURO (warnings ; clít rubbing. squírting. size kínk. fìngering. pènetration. brééding. oràl (f).)

looves making you squirmノsquirting ノsize kink ノsideways ノstretching you out ノtasteノholding you by your thighsノpics he'll send ノsuper soakerノ breeding

𐙚 SATORU GOJO (warnings ; màsturbàtìon. pènetration.)

vids he sends while he’s away ノ awh, how embarrassing (not) ノcar sex ノgood morning ノin the mirror (satoru ver)ノbikini got him all worked up ノhe misses u :( ノdoggystyle

𐙚 SUGURU GETO (warnings ; pènetration. clít rubbing. squírtíng. riding. fíngeríng. hàndjob. màtìng press.)

loves his girl ノin the mirror (suguru ver)ノhe’s so cruel, teasing you like this ノmy ride is hereノfingering ノgetting him offノcountertopノso mean :( ノmating press

𐙚 CHOSO KAMO (warnings ; oràl (f). pènetration. brèèding. squìrtìng.)

taste so good ノloves missionary ノhow could he possibly keep his hands off? ノhe really couldnt wait ノall over youノin the carノagainst the wall ノagain and againノface down, ass up

𐙚 KENTO NANAMI (warnings ; pènetration. public sèx. oràl (f). spànking. brèèding. size kink.)

“lets hope we don’t get caught..” ノloves the taste of you ノputting you in your placeノbreeding kinkノi need this w him IMMEDIATELYノafter work

𐙚 INO TAKUMA (warnings ; pènetration. fìngerìng. spànking.)

positions ノcant get enough of your tits ノhes so loving ノ getting eachother off ノloves watching your expressions ノhe could listen to you all day ノIS THIS NOT HIM???

𐙚 RYOMEN SUKUNA (warnings ; pènetration. rough sèx. fìngerìng. mating press. ànàl fìngerìng.)

so rough w/ his hands . . . ノpinned down ノholding your leg up ノhe's so rough ノgirthy fingers ノon the couch ノanal + fingering ノprepping you for both cocks

SATOSUGU LINKS // mdni

⁀➷ CONTENT. why have only one when you can have both?

they fuck you raw between em

you’re their little toy

they pound you till you break

you’re dripping taking em both

two cocks feel so good

you choke on one, fuck the other

they stretch you wide open

you’re their filthy plaything

they rail you front and back

they take so good care of you

you’re a mess between those dicks

they double team you

they cum at the same time

I wanna read a Sylus + Simon x reader smut (I'm ovulating)

SEBASTION STAN IS BALD? IT IS NOT A PRANK? 😭☹️😫😩😟🥲😒🙄😤🤨

Friday night was the very godsend for a little relaxation. You're in a bar, you're a little drunk, and you're ovulating. And he's the most handsome guy here, just eye candy. Very, very dirty dancing, you fucked him in the bathroom, in the parking lot, in the car, took him to your house. First thing you hear in the morning when you wake up in his arms, “We need to make up a romantic and beautiful story about how we met.” “What? Why?” “Because I'm not gonna tell the truth to our grandchildren.”

Fuck, c.ai for recommending Simon Ghost Riley. Now I have to play that bloody game COD ;(

Your husband Sukuna would never admit that if he died at this very moment, he'd die an extremely happy and fulfilled man.

Because the sight of you wearing nothing but his large black haori was probably the only taste of heaven he will ever experience in his wretched existence.

You sat near the parted shoji screen leading to his (and now yours too) personal garden, humming softly while you ran a comb through your hair. Your eyes were closed in content as you basked in the soft morning glow which did nothing but accentuate your beauty in his eyes.

You opened your eyes and noticed he was awake, gazing at you from his spot on the large futon you both shared. You smiled warmly.

"Good morning, love."

"Hm."

He, albeit reluctantly, tore his gaze away from you because he felt that if he stared at you any longer, you'll see a side of him he's too reluctant to show even you.

You smiled knowingly at him. Your attention went over to the garden then.

"I think the garden needs tending and a new set of flowers. Shall I call Aiko the gardener? I believe she has arrived back to the temple this morning after taking care of her sister during her pregnancy—"

Pregnancy

And then Sukuna had an image flash before his eyes.

Of you on the exact spot, dressed the same way in his black haori, smiling the same way and gazing at him the same way.

Except your stomach was round and swollen with his child. Of you tenderly and lovingly resting your hand against it.

Of you being completely and utterly his.

"—Also I think we should—"

"Get over here, wife."

You blinked. "What—"

"I said get over here now."

He had absolutely no intentions of letting you leave the bedroom today.

love how when zoro rides with chopper he is in cool big bro mode and when he's with luffy he's goofing around

cw: mentions of oral sex, first date with Simon Riley, Simon is very awkward, drabble

Simon Riley being such an awkward and blunt individual when it comes to dating- it freaks you out because you don't know where you stand. In the SAS, Simon was a cold-hearted bugger, even to his own team. There was little they knew about him and he liked to keep it that way because when things were private they were easier to deal with. What would the point even be filling his teammates, co-workers, in on private matters?

He was impassive. Socially awkward but not in the shy, anxious way people would assume. He could never read the room or bring himself to give a shit, he did what he wanted and took little to no notice of what others though. It sounded fine, and for the most part it was.

But dating was fucking hard- being paired up with real whiny, bitchy women who would just complain over every minuscule thing- fucking hell, he wasn't a goddamn therapist. He didn't have time for people like that- his job showed him how short and vague life can be and he wasn't letting anyone waste his valuable minutes. He hated dating, hated putting himself out there just to come back home and sight in relief at the emptiness- he hated everything about it until he went out with you.

Your first online interaction was a mess of you trying to use some god-awful pick-up line that everyone aside from Simon could comprehend. 'What that mean?' and 'Ok.' Being your only two responses and what the hell, you were intrigued. He was just so- cutting? So rambunctiously dull in a careless manner, you couldn't help but wonder what he was life in real life. And after a few more messages back and fourth, there was no need to wonder anymore.

You drove to the restaurant you were meeting at yourself as he didn't even offer to come pick you up. His overwhelming chivalry and charm, clearly seeping in through his actions already! But honestly you were glad that he didn't. It gave you an exit just in case the date was bad and you just had to leave. Driving there yourself on the first date wasn't anything out of the norm anyway but you were used to men offering most of the time.

You greeted each other at the entrance and you were not expecting from a few blurry selfies of him to be so tall and jacked. Muscles only just squeezing out the armholes of his shirt as he nodded to you and walked inside. Not opening the door for your or even bothering to hold it after himself- nope. Just walking inside as casual as he can be; you couldn't contain your laugh.

He ordered what he wanted to eat, letting you order what you liked as well and the two of you finally got to talking. You shared things about yourself, listened to his deep, gruffly voice share things about him and honestly- it was probably the weirdest yet the best date you had ever been on.

You weren't used to people being like this and it made you surprisingly comfortable and not so on edge as usual. There had been dates that you had gone on that you thought were great; you felt a connection, they said they reciprocated but after it was over ghosted and blocked you for some reason. It hurt you every time and with Simon, you felt like that wouldn't be the case. He seemed like the kind of person that wouldn't mess about and wouldn't still be at the table if he felt nothing.

The food came and Simon dug straight into his steak. Your cheeks warming slightly at all the people sat around the two of you, eating softly, chuckling and sipping on red wine meanwhile Simon just enjoyed himself. His chin was dripping from the juice, fingers messy because despite the knife and fork he made an attempt to use- it was just easier with his hands. Deep brown eyes catching your own and blinking in confusion. His chest fluttered at the sound of your chuckle, a small smirk inching onto his face and he hadn't felt this relaxed with someone in months. He hadn't felt able to be himself.

The dinner went on as you swallowed and picked at your food, not wanting to scare him away or embarrass yourself which was stupid given how messily and carelessly he ate. You knew he probably wouldn't care at all but still- you did it anyway. Looking up at him as you placed your fork in your mouth, catching him sucking his fingers clean. Fucking hot. The lighting was so warm- and suddenly the room felt burning hot. The electricity between the two of you, high voltage and you bit your bashful smile down. Stomach aching in arousal as he sat back in his chair watching the way your lips chewed and swallowed.

"I want to eat you out."

And you almost choked. It was so calm, so nonchalant as it practically just leaked from his mouth. No awareness, no worry for who else might have heard him say that- simply just placing his cards upon the table and informing you of what he was thinking about. Horror coating his face as he saw you splutter and choke on your words, mouth agape in shock. He didn't mean to say anything wrong- he thought that was how it was supposed to go, was it not?

Handing you a napkin and sitting forward a little more as he apologised with a guilty smile. You shook your head, mind still spinning from his words and body boiling with a newfound sexual desire. Sipping on the glass of your drink to calm yourself as you assured him it was fine, telling him it was no big deal.

But, holy fuck.

MDNI 18+

loner! simon riley being completely unaware that he’s largely endowed

mentions of: huge dick simon riley, loser simon riley, vaginal sex

just loner! simon riley with a huge cock that’s all

he was completely unaware of how big he really is, thinking it’s probably just average or maybe even smaller, and straying awkwardly away from any sex talk with his friends.

he was also completely unaware of how it literally swings when he walks, especially when he is alone in his apartment with no boxers just because they felt so unreasonably uncomfortable, like his cock was suffocating. his tight cargo pants always bunched up at the crotch area.

he was quite messy whenever he came whilst fisting his cock. his rough hands marred with scars moving up and down sloppily, lewd wet noises filling up the room as he leaned his head on the wall, his black skull balaclava in his mouth to stifle any groans.

his cock felt heavy, weighing down his hands and sometimes would even make his hands ache.

and he had a heavy load of cum when he came it would spurt all over his abdomen, making a sticky mess on his hands as he tried to wipe it with a towel, his actions sloppy due to the ache in his right hand.

so when he first fucked you he felt like an amateur, completely unaware of your gaze glued to his bulge as he freed his aching cock, looking already huge in his large hands. he struggled, like a lot getting it in.

he was so excited to feel your warm cunt around him, missing your hole multiple times.

“fuck, ‘m sorry luvie, don’t know why it’s not going in.” his cheeks beat up, a faint dust of pale pink as his fat tip nudged against your glistening hole, his hand steady trying to guide it. “jus’ a lil stretch,” he cooed as he watched the way his tip was enveloped by your cunt, a loud squelching noise before he finally sank in.

god he loved watching that small tummy bulge whilst fucking you.

he never thought he’d feel so good, your gummy walls so tight and warm around his cock, squeezing him like you wanted to milk him dry. simon was used to the feeling of his palms, the rough dry skin, but god it did not compare to the feeling of your cunt.

he came within seconds after you, his cum dripping out despite his cock being plunged so deeply into your cunt.

he swore that he saw your stomach swell just slightly due to his cum.

This might be a wild one.

But hear me out okay.

Simon has his hand somewhere intimate at all times whenever it’s the two of you together.

NOW okay stay with me…

At first, it was somewhat innocent. You’d both be watching a movie on the sofa, he’d deliberately have you lie across him just so his hand can rest on your ass. Casual couple things y’know.

But as your relationship progresses and he’s very used to being able to touch his pretty girl whenever possible…he tends to stray to more intimate places.

There would be one time, you’d be standing in the kitchen, cooking dinner for him on the rare occasion he gets to have a home cooked meal for once. And he’d stand behind you, humming some dumb song that’s been stuck in his head for days. But his hands will be on your tits.

Now, there’s nothing sexual about it really. He just likes holding them. Likes touching you. He’d probably give the occasional squish now and again because let’s face it he’s a man and they’d all do it.

But the only time his need to be touching you would turn sexual, is by complete accident.

(Hear me the fuck out okay?)

So you’d both be lying in bed, you’d be scrolling through your phone as he’s reading beside you (he reads, it’s obvious).

But his hand, would be down whatever pants or shorts you’re wearing for bed, underneath your underwear if you are wearing any at the time…and his hand would simply be resting on your cunt.

Like I said, it wouldn’t be sexual at first and it was an accident this time around.

Because this man can’t sit still at home, it’s too quiet…too calm…he needs something to do.

So what does he do? Play with your cunt.

The pad of his middle finger would idly rub up and down over your clit, not even trying to put any effort in all whilst he focuses on reading. Even if you’re there slightly squirming from the pleasure that the rhythmic motion of his finger creates, he wouldn’t really notice straight away.

He’d circle it a few times, all the while you’re trying to keep quiet as to not disturb him. Having to hold in every moan or soft sound your body aches to let out.

And for the most part, he seems completely focused. Even when his finger would slide down and gather every drop leaking out of you and bring it back to your clit just for more stimulation.

It’s only when you’re close to cumming from the lazy but constant stimulation that he’ll lean down slightly just to whisper in your ear.

“C’mon…give it to me love…please…”

He knows.

He always knows.

Simon Riley absolutely refuses to let you pay for your own nails. He noticed them on your first date, so pretty and delicate.

When you’d texted him a couple weeks later, mentioning offhandedly that you were going to get new ones done, he had replied immediately. A generous amount of money sent to your account and a note. ‘Get somethin’ pretty for me, Lovie’

Any arguments on the matter were not accepted and eventually you got used to it. (You’d tried paying for your own set only once and the man had pouted for weeks).

Not that this was entirely altruistic, of course. Simon liked to provide for you, yes. But he also loved the feeling of you running your nails through his hair and over his back when he lay on top of you. Lord knows his military salary and hazard pay were generous enough to cover it.

What had really sold him was when you added a special detail to the nail on your ring finger. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time but the way he froze when he noticed was enough to make it a permanent thing.

That small letter ‘S’ painted delicately on the tip of your fingernail rewired his brain chemistry. He was half tempted to get a tattoo to match. But he’d settled for staring at it non stop. (For now) Caressing the smooth, shiny surface with his calloused fingers and thinking of a ring he could get you to match it.

Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes aka The Winter Soldier

Exclusive Outtake from Captain America: The Winter Soldier

@homoeroticfisticuffs asked for a way to find all of these outtakes so I'm gonna post this. These are all I have posted so far. I only have 5 left unreleased.

SEBASTIAN STAN VANITY FAIR, 2025 PHOTOGRAPHED BY NORMAN JEAN ROY

ᵣₑᵥₑᵣₛₑ cₒwgᵢᵣₗ

exactly what it sounds like. <3

bucky x fem!reader

Reverse cowgirl. I'd admit that it was my idea, but then that would mean that I also enjoyed being in this compromising position. Let me lay it out-- my back is flushed against his chest, head lolling back to rest on his shoulder. His hands keep my legs spread wide and back, cock thrusting into me at a relentless pace. All someone had to do was open the door and they'd see everything. Maybe that's what made the situation so hot for him, but I couldn't help but keep my gaze focused on the door. "Fuck Buck-y, someone could come in," I groan, chest rising and falling quickly. I could feel him grin against my neck, pressing a gentle kiss against it. "Yeah, I plan on doin' that, sweetheart," he mumbles, thrusting in slower, but far deeper than I thought was enough possible. I let a sharp moan, trembling hand reaching up to grasp the back on his neck. "That's not what I'm talking about--fuck!" I scream as his hand moves down to rub fast circles on my clit. I couldn't hold out much longer, and I think he could tell. "Gonna cum, baby?" he asks, turning his head to kiss me feverishly. I reciprocate; soft moans swallowed by his tongue. I nod quickly, back arching off of his chest as the coil in my tummy snaps. My body shakes as a whiney moan leaves my lips, eyes rolling back as he spills into me. Suddenly, I hear footsteps down the hall, with a knock on the door. I glance at Bucky, trying to get off of him. Instead, he pulls me back down, thrusting into me again.

"Let them watch, baby."

color study: lavender blue by Ezra Leary

simon’s not vocal during sex. like before you knew him well you’d even get a little insecure about it. but now that you know he isn’t, it doesn’t bother you.

the only time you’ve ever heard more than a grunt from him after he sinks into your warm, wet cunt for the first stroke is when he’s bone dead tired.

only when he’s so exhausted and his legs feel like they’re being weighed down, will he let you know how good he feels.

your soft body bouncing lazily atop of his, barely raising your hips before simon’s calloused hands are pulling you back down onto his cock.

the warmth of your pussy practically lulling him to sleep. warbled, almost pained, noises leaving his lips.

grunts, mewls, whimpers leaving him as you fuck yourself on his cock.

“fuck, doll. slow down, gonna make me cum.”

but he’s the only slamming you down onto him. guiding your movements as growls leave his throat until he cums inside you with such a guttural moan that your clit throbs deliciously.

rocking you down into him as his chest heaves with exertion. eyes slowly blinking up at you as his thumb finds your clit to rub lazy circles until your tightening around his cock and you find your own release.

MDNI 18+

mentions of: oral sex (m) receiving, thumb sucking

oral sex with simon riley is absolutely filthy, dirty all around with spit, cum and tears. simon knew that he was a big guy, his cock heavy in his hands as he gave it a few hasty pumps, the roughness of his hands on his aching cock making him hiss slightly. his free hand tugging the back of your head, allowing him gently rubbing his leaking head over your plush lips, making them glisten with his precum. “give it yer all yeah? slobber all of it luvie.”

simon wasn’t a patient guy, roughly shoving his cock in fully with no warning making you gag as his fat tip hits the back of your throat. he was addicted to the way your warm mouth felt, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head. your mouth was stretched out to accomodate his girth, your jaw slightly sore before he pushed your head fully down, your nose nestled in between his messy pubes.

he had one criteria for blow jobs, you needed to be an absolute mess after.

wet squelching sounds filled the room as you drooled all over his cock, making a mess on your hands as it dribbled down the corners of your mouth then to your chin. “remember to breathe luvie, can’t have yer passin’ out on me.”

he fucked your mouth like it was your cunt, two of his large scarred hands fisting your hair forcing you to take his cock fully, a guttural groan leaving his lips. when he would come he wouldn’t stop, forcing you to mix your saliva with his cum as it dribbled down your chin, the clear liquid slightly milky now. “such a pretty girl makin’ a mess on me cock, havin’ fun luvie?” he cooed as he panted, his chest rising whilst beads of sweat were on his forehead.

roughly, he pulled his cock out, a loud ‘pop’ leaving your swollen lips as he did with a string of saliva that connected from his pinkish swollen head to your glossy lips. “such a good girl.” he praised lowly as he rubbed your lips with his thumb, before slipping it in. instinctively you sucked on it, your tongue swirling as he shoved it deeper.

“ yer have an oral fixation bun?”

his gaze dropped down to your neck and chest, the milky liquid now seeping in between your breasts. he raised a hand to gently smear it across your breasts, your skin glistening with the sticky liquid as simon made a silent claim. “might have to fuck yer tits if they look so pretty like that.” his voice low as he brought his hand covered with your saliva and his cum to your face, before smearing it on your cheeks. the sticky liquid coated your skin before simon gently ran it through your hair, making some parts clumped together.

“give me a big smile luvie.”

as you closed your eyes, a big toothy grin on your face tilted up, simon messily fisted his cock, sloppy wet sounds filling the room before he came all over your face. your lashes slightly glued and clumped together as he coated your face.

WE KEEP WINNING

I just found out that Kamonohashi is a platypus in Japanese and if a platypus could symbolize privacy and secrecy, that's exactly the opposite of what Ron does because he can see through the crimes by his sleuthing.

You and Simon aren’t together. Never have been. Never talked about it, never even thought about it.

You just click. You always have. It started as a mission thing—paired up for some op because Price figured you worked well together, and then it just… stuck. You got each other in ways that didn’t need explaining. You liked the same things, moved the same way, anticipated each other’s actions before they happened. You didn’t have to tell him what you needed in the field, and he never had to ask you to cover him. It was easy. Comfortable. The kind of thing that felt natural before you even noticed it happening.

And then it bled into everything else. Eating together. Training together. Sitting next to each other on long flights, in debriefs, in the rare downtime you got between missions. It was never planned, never discussed. Just a thing that happened, like muscle memory. If you were in a room, Simon was there too, and if he wasn’t, he was on his way.

The others noticed, of course. Soap especially. He was the loudest about it, but even Gaz had taken to shooting you both pointed looks when you showed up somewhere at the same time, or when you answered Simon’s half-formed thoughts like you knew what he was going to say before he said it.

Which, honestly, you usually did.

It all comes to a head one evening, the lot of you gathered in one of the common rooms, half-done with the day but not quite ready to call it a night. You and Simon are on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, idly watching something on the TV while Soap, sitting across from you both, groans into his hands.

“You two make me sick.”

You blink at him. “We’re literally just sitting here.”

“That’s the problem!” Soap gestures wildly. “You do everything together. You finish each other’s bloody sentences. You know what the other is thinking. And you’re just—what? Friends?” He scoffs. “Aye, and I’m the Queen of England.”

Simon leans back, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t think you’ve got the legs for a crown, mate.”

Gaz snorts. Price, watching from his spot near the door, only shakes his head like he’s seen this conversation play out a hundred times before. (He has.)

Soap ignores them, pointing a finger between you and Simon like he’s solving some grand mystery. “There’s only one thing you haven’t done,” he declares. “You just need to kiss. That’s it. Only thing missing.”

Silence.

You turn your head. Simon is already looking at you.

There’s nothing in his expression that gives anything away—no smirk, no challenge, no humor in his eyes. He’s just watching you, waiting. And then, with a tiny shrug, he leans in and kisses you.

It’s short, unhurried. Just a press of his lips against yours, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. When he pulls back, his eyes are still on you, searching.

You don’t react. Not outwardly, anyway. You can feel Soap’s disbelief burning into the side of your face, hear the noise he makes—the strangled mix between a gasp and an outraged protest—but you don’t acknowledge it. Instead, you look back at Simon, forcing yourself to stay still even as your heart does something stupid in your chest.

Because, sure, maybe this was just to mess with Soap. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it was a joke.

But it didn’t feel like one.

Simon smirks and leans back, turning his attention back to the TV like nothing happened. “Happy now?”

Soap looks like he’s reconsidering every life decision that led him to this moment. “What the fuck?”

—

Later, when Simon walks you back to your room, he’s quieter than usual. His hands are in his pockets, his head tilted down slightly like he’s working through something in his mind.

“I wasn’t trying to make things weird,” he says after a beat. “Didn’t mean—well, didn’t want you to think it was—”

He stops, exhales sharply through his nose. “Just don’t want you to be mad.”

You glance at him. “I’m not mad.”

He nods, but his mouth pulls into something uncertain, like he doesn’t believe you. “Good. That’s—good.”

You reach your door and turn to face him fully. He’s still looking at you, his usual easy confidence nowhere to be found. And it’s funny, really, how the thought of kissing you in front of everyone hadn’t made him hesitate, but now? Now, he’s hesitating. Now, he’s thinking too hard about it. About you.

So before he can say anything else, you push up onto your toes and kiss him.

It’s quick, barely a breath between you before you pull back, but the impact is immediate. Simon’s lips part slightly, his brows drawing together like he can’t quite process what just happened.

You step back, hand on your door handle, and give him a small nod. “Goodnight, Simon.”

Then you slip inside, shutting the door behind you, leaving him standing there in the hallway, staring at the empty space where you just were.

And for once, Simon doesn’t have a single thing to say.

----------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @ghostslollipop @kylies-love-letter

fussy. simon riley.

simon who is terrified of fatherhood and the child he cannot stop holding. a little over 1k words about simon accepting paternal love. gross fluff.

Simon doesn’t know what he’s doing.

The hospital room filters the bruise of early morning through windowpanes that looked cleaner before the rain. Silver linings sparkle around cloud rims when thunder collapses between them. Aside from the yellow bedside lamp, and the sheet of light that flattens from under the door, the world is still dark.

The clock is one of two sounds. The other is your snoring.

You swelter under thin cotton. Rashes of red labor cling to the skin visible from where Simon guards. Hair mussed and barely contained in the complimentary hair ties from the nurses. Sleeping, sure- but still raw. Nearly burned alive, by what Simon can only assume was his own selfishness.

Despite all of this, it’s the first time you've looked at peace within the last 3 months. Beautiful- a word that grows low on trees, but Simon finds himself unable to reach much farther. Exhaustion taunts his mind and paralyzes the arm he usually holds you with.

But the bundle flinches, and he is once again wide awake.

Made from China glass. Painted in pink and tulip pollen. She’s got your nose, curving into small nostrils that breathe amateurly. Cheeks that swallow the crease of her lips and eyes that have not yet opened.

Simon is terrified that when they do, they’ll be his.

He is built from barnacles and the bottom bricks of a lighthouse. Iron that’s been fed to a kiln a dozen times until its edges sport burnt, flaking edges. Salt strung upon a wire until the saline coats his teeth when he speaks.

He probably looks ridiculous, holding a newborn. Even if she’s his.

Because nothing about him is soft, or new. He is decades beyond cradles, velvet rabbits and the grass that will undoubtedly grow when she takes her first steps. He is what happens to a man when you feed him hours not made by God. He is old and mean and none of that belongs to a baby.

But he pulls her from the incubator anyway, maybe with the hopes of proving himself wrong.

She stirs before settling between the crook of his elbow. A small thing, hair like thin field callows over her head, thumbs the size of mouse ears. Barely a beginning, despite it feeling like ages ago since you revealed the pregnancy. Hardly possible, to be looking at almost a year of his life, only for her to be as fresh as the morning and blissfully unaware of who she is. Who her father is.

And God, she’s warm. Practically burning him. Warm enough to ignite the ugly fire in his chest that he’s spent the more active, awake years of his life keeping at bay. A desperate creature that drools when softness offers itself to him. Bone marrow to a set of canines.

Told himself he’d only indulge it once- his marriage. To the bread dough and the goodnight kisses and the fresh clay that you envelop him with. The arms that wait for him. Something he really wasn’t made for. But something you fit him in anyway. Put your two hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye and told him,

“I want you and everything that comes with it.”

If that’s not a confession of love, damn the fairytales he’ll raise his daughter on. Knows shit about what it means to give and expect little. To take knowing you don’t deserve it.

Thunder blossoms outside, and the baby jolts. Her face scrunches, and Simon stiffens at what he knows will follow.

He’s never really been…fond of children. Too fussy, too loud, too flushed in the face. All delicate rounds, emotions nonsensical and unpredictable. Manifestation of a love he hadn’t understood. Not when comrades talked about it, not when Price had, not even, admittedly, when you had.

Held a peculiar, unviolent anger towards them. An ugly disquiet that had him convinced for years that children were his anthesis. The North of his South.

All of this dissipates when she starts crying.

Bounces her gently and pulls her closer against his chest. Swears quietly when she worsens, the poor, pathetic, toothless mouth opening wider to choke on her own sobs.

“I know, I know…” He shakes his head, “’don’t like the rain, either.”

She doesn’t stop, but neither does Simon. Guess she inherited his stubbornness, too.

“C’mon now…Is’alright I gotcha. Can’t get you from inside,” leans his head back when the cry rattles his teeth, “Just loud-shit…just loud…”

Re-adjusts her in his arms, and she chokes again, before her crying becomes a long, drawn-out thrum. Waters his ears until he’s looking over at you, praying you'll stay asleep and that his daughter will begin to like him.

Won’t blame her, if she doesn’t. Looking like the personification of danger probably doesn’t convince her he’ll protect her from it. He didn’t realize how quickly he was going to have to learn to be gentle. Kind.

She wails again, and he sighs, accepting defeat. Letting the exhaustion drown him before being pulled from the waters by her shaking, fat fingers. But Simon is void of the anger that attaches itself to interrupted peace. He couldn’t fathom looking at the swaddled thumbprint in his arms and feeling anything but immense…gravity.

A pull. The moon to the waves, waves to the shore, shore to the land he built his house on and will bring her home too. Not anger, not grief, not even joy. It was-

“Mm…love…” Simon’s head snaps up, and stares to where you have rolled over, eyes blinking away tear crust, “Is’at you?”

“I’m ‘ere darl,” a baby cry, “’m sorry I couldn’t get ‘er to…she won’t…”

“Si…” you reach out your hand and beckon him closer. He stands slowly, making sure not to stir the baby more than she has been, and starts to hand her back to you. But you shake your head, hand out to stop him. “Sit down.”

He blinks, before taking a seat next to the hospital cot. His jaw reaches the head bar, and he leans up against the beside table with the weeping child. You mumble something unintelligible, voice and body still plagued by sleep, before reaching over the mattress and stroking the top of the baby’s head. She still cries, and Simon sends you a desperate look.

Your hand travels down, before settling your palm over the baby’s chest. Make slow, small circles, and begins humming like you would when you bake, or when you read. Tiny normalcies amongst chaos.

And it’s a miracle. She stops crying. Hiccups a few times, fades into sniffles, and eventually a dove coo. Hands rest over yours, barely twice the size of your knuckles. Simon doesn’t take his eyes off his daughter.

“You did it.”

“We did it,” you correct, “You’re the one holding her.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t working before.” Still staring, watching for a crack, a fissure in this carefully crafted peace. It doesn’t come.

“’Cus you were doing it alone, Si,” You look at him, really look at him, and Simon feels young again for the first time since exchanging vows, “She needs the both of us. Should’ve seen her when it was just me ‘n her.” Laugh to yourself, before yawning.

Simon nods, even though he doesn’t understand. It feels like he won’t for a long time. Maybe he never will. But staring at his daughter, all flushed in the face and fussy and loud, he feels like trying.

“’gonna be alright, Simon.”

He looks up, mouth twitching into a dry smile, “Me or her?”

You reach across with your other hand and stroke under his cheek. “Us.”

And at least for this moment, Simon will let himself believe it.

hq life draw from zeet studio sketch... all the poses were so good i wanted to draw them properly

older bf!toji is a sucker for you. especially when you both pass out after a long night of being lost in each other’s bodies and (barely) wake up to resume your passion.

toji’s eyes aren’t even open yet, his mind barely conscious, but his body can easily sense yours on top of him. you’re half-asleep yourself and yet your hips are moving on their own—grinding against his pelvis with slowed movements. his half-hard dick is still buried inside your warm cunt, having cockwarmed him to sleep.

“. . . mmh, shit,” toji groans in that sexy morning voice of his. he doesn’t bother opening his eyes, his hands instinctively coming to rest on the curves of your ass to guide your shallow thrusts.

his eyelashes flutter, his biceps flexing as he squeezes your plump cheeks lazily. “nasty little girl. can’t even wait ‘til i wake up properly,” the older man delivers a soft smack to your ass before soothing the sting with a rub.

he opens his eyes barely halfway, yet enough to look down at you snuggled against his bare chest. he huffs - almost condescendingly but with a subtle hint of affection. you’re seemingly more unconscious than conscious, still lost in deep slumber. despite that, your hips don’t stop their hypnotic up and down rhythm.

“so addicted to my dick got ‘er ridin’ me in her sleep,” toji mumbles to himself before closing his eyes once more. his hands never stop massaging your hips and rear, silently encouraging you to continue.

there’s nothing better than getting his dick wet by his gorgeous young girlfriend first thing in the morning.

certainly a great way to start the day.