When You Partner Is Like Rhys~

When you partner is like Rhys~

Rhysand’s Kinks Headcannon

Warnings(s): smut obviously, choking, bondage, squirting, edging, exhibitionism, marking, daddy kink

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-It was no secret that Rhysand was a sex god.

-He loved nothing more than edging you all night long, his fingers drumming against your clit feverishly, then stopping right when you were close. Right when he felt you clench around his fingers, signaling that you were about to let go. He could literally do this all night, but he’s too kind to ever torture you for that long. Give him your signature puppy eyes and he’ll let you cum.

-Even better than the latter, he loves to make you squirt. It’s physical proof that stays on the sheets all night that he truly pressed all the right buttons inside of you. Squirt in his face too, he’ll say “good girl” and let you choke on his dick.

-Exhibitionism. But, only in other courts. He adores having you sit on top of him, legs spread as he toys with your clit through your panties. (think that one scene in acomaf 👀) the shocked gasps and embarrassed looks from the other fae around fills his ego up even more, if that were even possible.

-Daddy kink. I will not accept anything less. This. Man. Is. Daddy. He’ll refer to himself that way, too. Saying things like “Does someone want daddy’s cock tonight?” “Want daddy to make your pretty pussy cum? Hmmm? Be a good girl.” If you call him that in public, good luck…he will take you in an alleyway pressed up against the brick.

-Bondage. Simple. He enjoys tying you up so that you can’t close your legs when he hits that sensitive part of your g-spot, or when he keeps licking your clit languidly even after you came.

-Choking. Nothing too intense, but he does think his large hand looks rather pretty like a necklace around your sensitive neck. He might just have a thing for necks in general, though. He loves kissing and sucking on your neck just as much as when you do it to him. And fuck…do those growls and moans he makes when you do it encourage you.

-Impact play. Again, nothing too intense. In fact, you’re the one who brought it up. You were being a tease, he called you naughty. You replied with “maybe you should punish me then. spank the brat out of me?” You could of swore you saw the feral horny look in his eyes illuminate. He was still hesitant to lay a hand on you like that, but when you moaned in pleasure and soaked your panties after his first little smack, he knew how much of a pain slut you were. Your safe word is wingspan.

-Marking. You belong to him, and he wants everyone to know that. Expect to have dark purple bruises all over your neck, tits, and in between your thighs. You swore that Rhys could make you cum just from sucking on your jugular…

It's too cute!!!

legit listening to "beautiful boy - John Lennon" rn hear me out ghost and his Mreader hubby cuddling with their new baby just wholesome fluffy stuff yknow🤯

When I tell you I cried writing this-- UGH! Thank you so much for this request! It was so sweet.

Adoption was no easy feat, anyone with a right mind would know that. There is a lot of paperwork, a couple of interviews, as well as money that goes into it. It was more difficult with your growing family, you decided bitterly. Most agencies looked at the jobs you and your husband held, you as a freelance writer at home and him as active duty military- well, the active duty military was more of a raised red flag to them. Especially because the two of you were looking for a baby, not a child- an infant.

When the struggle with adoption started, your focus turned less away from your work- which did ultimately have a deadline, to what could be done. In your heart, you felt this emptiness that needed to be filled, and Simon expressed himself the same at home. You sometimes wished that like him, you could separate it while working… but you had too much heart in you. (Those were Simon’s words- and he said that he was glad you were like that)

Tonight was one of those nights that you couldn’t focus on your work. All those creative writing and English classes in college, gone throughout the window. So, you settled on looking through other adoption agencies- maybe even some women who were pregnant that didn’t want the child, but wouldn’t do an abortion. What was the name? Ah, you didn’t care much to remember. The aged whiskey in your hand helped with that too.

As per usual, you spent about three hours looking for something new. A couple emails sent out to some agencies, the last two that would maybe consider interviewing you and Simon. The analog clock next to the TV expresses how late it was, so did the yawn that left your mouth. You decided the whiskey glass could be cleaned in the morning as you set it down on the coffee table, your closed laptop next to it. The front door and its eighteen locks (that’s an exaggeration, it only had four) needed to be turned before you could sleep. Right after you locked the first one though, you heard something through the door- something like… crying?

Now, you and Simon live in a nice neighborhood- with little to no crime activity, but that doesn’t mean something could happen. You retreat from the area for just a moment to grab one of the tactical knives hiding in the coffee table, then walked back to the front door. Very quietly, you undid the lock you’d just turned and very slowly opened the door. Nothing was directly in front of you, so you looked down and your heart shattered.

It’s always in the movies, so the scene in front of you is unexpected in real life. There is a large woven basket with an infant tucked comfortably with a blue blanket. Before you investigate further, you look around your yard and towards the sidewalk but see no one walking about- or running away. So, you bend down and pick up the basket, taking out the little note that’s sticking out as you walk back into the house. Just for a moment, the basket is set on the couch as you read it.

‘To who little Gregory comes to,

I’m sorry I couldn’t take care of him myself. When he was born in the hospital, everyone in the room was happy to see him but me. Gregory is the result of a… you know what case. I looked at him, and I couldn’t see myself at all- only him. I hope that you can find yourself to take care of him. Love him. 

Thank you.’

Oh… “Fuck.” You look down at the baby- who has been crying this whole time, and quickly pick him up from the basket. It’s probably really uncomfortable in there- and oh, how long has it been since Gregory has been fed? Christ on a Cross, when you talked about jumping into parenting, this isn’t what you meant! “Hey, Siri!” You’re trying your best to calm the infant in your arms, who is still crying, but it’s thankfully gone to hiccups now. “Call Simon’s work on speaker.”

“Calling Simon *work* on speaker…” You take a seat on the couch, careful not to disturb the now sleeping infant as you pick up your phone and bring it closer to your person. Gregory seems… smaller than the other infants you’ve seen with the adoption agencies, you wonder if it’s a birth cause or he wasn’t taken care of before being handed off. “Hey, I’m about to go on a mission. Are you okay?”

You breathe in and exhale slowly. “Simon. You need to come home, tell Price it’s an emergency.” Your husband makes a noise on the other line, and you can hear him beginning to protest it all- “Someone dropped a baby on our doorstep- I… I cannot do this alone right now.”

There is a lot of noise coming from the other line now, you hear shouting- it’s Simon doing it. And… Gregory has woken up, he’s crying again. “Och. Simon, on your way home, which you better be doing- or I’m going to find your captain and kick him into next month- get some supplies, like we’ve talked about. I’m gonna hang up because he’s woken up due to the noise, but if I don’t see your arse in thirty minutes, there will be words, Simon Riley.” Before he can reply, you press the ‘end call’ button and turn your attention back to Gregory.

What did some babies fall asleep to? What would calm the storm that the call to your husband created? You remembered seeing your sister sing softly to her child- but you can’t give bars for shit. So, you decide to hum, very quietly ‘Hey Jude’. And just like with your niece all those years ago, it seems to do the trick. Gregory stops crying, moves to hiccuping then starts cooing at you- reaching at your face with his little chubby baby fists. He’s just so cute… You wish you could fall asleep with him, but the other thing your brain processed is that this would be the beginning to several nights of restless sleep.

It’s another thirty minutes of you humming different soft songs, mostly rock- because you can’t think of an actual lullaby for your life right now. Africa, Every Breath You Take, Tears in Heaven, Hard to Say I’m Sorry, Can’t Help Falling in love, Beautiful Boy… so many others. It works like a charm with little Gregory, he only wakes up for a moment to gurgle and reach for you, before falling back asleep.

Ten minutes later, your front door opens- almost slamming, but Simon catches it. He’s carrying several bags from the local grocery store- all in full gear. He shuts the door as quietly as he can, but it’s a little noisy with all of the plastic bags in his arms as well as his gear. Everything in his hands is set on the ground in front of the coffee table, then Simon’s walking over to you, eyes widening as he looks at the infant in your arms. “You weren’t…” His words die down when you point with a random finger to the note that had been left. Simon scans over it while taking off his mask. “Oh… just the baby then? Was there anything in his basket?”

You shake your head, stopping the humming so you can speak- hopefully Gregory won’t start crying again. “Just him, his blanket and that note.” You gesture with your head to the bags. “Do you have baby formula? Bottles? I don’t know the last time he’s had anything… there was no information on it.”

Simon brushes Gregory’s head, moving some of the hair, then walks over to the bags. He takes out a lot of formula and a couple bottles. “Woman at the register looked at me like I was mad. Told her I had a newborn and she calmed her tits.” You snort and shake your head. “I’m gonna make some warmed milk for him, then set up his crib- that’s still in the car.”

All those agencies that said the two of you were incapable of raising an infant were incorrect. You were careful in waking Gregory and giving him the bottle, once your husband had come back with it. Before leaving the room to go get the crib he needed to build, he looked at you and… well, the kid was his son now, he’d say. There is a rare instance that tears are building in his eyes, and he allows them to fall. “Simon,” you call softly from the couch. He snaps out of it and walks over to you. “Why don’t you hold him? I’ll go get the crib.”

For a moment, his brain goes to the fact that his hands aren’t meant to hold something so small and precious- his hands are those of a killer’s… but the way you look at him, a hopeful look in your eyes and the softest smile. He slowly takes Gregory from you, one arm curling around his tiny body and the other keeping leg support and holding up the bottle. “Hi, Gregory,” he whispers. The baby coos back and makes the same grabbing motion towards him, the chubby fist brushing against his paint.

“Simon,” you’re now next to him. The crib that needs to be built is in the corner of the room. “Why don’t we just sleep on the couch tonight? The three of us? It’s in a way that we won’t crush him… and it’s late.” He nods silently and gets on the couch first, handing you Gregory so he can get properly comfortable. You follow suit, lying your head against the side cushion and setting up a little pillow wall with one of your hands. “Love you, Simon.”

He breathes in deeply, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His arms go around your waist, hands cupping around the side of Gregory’s body. “Love you too.” Simon waits until both of you are asleep first before closing his eyes. His mind drifted into how lucky the two of you were to have Gregory now as sleep took over.

Doing it for free? Sign me up!!

Trans thought:

You know how in House of 1000 Corpses, Baby threatens to cut the one girls tits off. I would have let Baby do it. Like top surgery is expensive man.

I need more-

Gentle Touch

Brahms Heelshire x M!Reader

Last Edited: June 16, 2021 11:00 PM

TW: slight praising

Anon: I love your fics so much, could i request a brahms x male reader where y/n has usher syndrome? y/n being deaf–blind and being the older brother of brahm's nanny, maybe moves with her for the job, and gains the attention of brahms? really need some bromantic fluff <33

Tags: none

You loved Erla, you really did, but there were times when she annoyed you. You couldn’t blame her for trying to help you constantly but it really got on your nerves. She was always treating you like you were glass; some fine china that needed to be cared for every second of the day. It was why you didn’t want to go with her to the UK. You had known that she would keep you attached to her hip at all times but at the same time, there was Dündar. Dear ol’ Dündar. An abusive asshole is who he was and is. You hated his guts more than anyone else’s. You guessed you could say that going to the UK was a new start; a new start for both of you.

You have been staying at the Heelshire mansion for a while; maybe 6 months now? You were unsure since you couldn’t really tell the time or know what day it was due to your condition. Well, you would know if Erla was to tell you. Though she never told you anything. All she ever did was lead you around or leave you alone to your own world.

From what little information you knew, you were with Erla in the UK and babysitting a child. Or... Well… A small porcelain child replaced the dead child. Either way, you didn’t mind. A porcelain doll wouldn’t run around you, make fun of the Usher Syndrome, or try to ask you questions about it when you could only answer them through braille and sign language; you doubted the child would have even known those two.

You had hearing aids but you didn’t use them all the time. You only used them to listen to music or to listen to the television. You don’t keep them in all the time since you don’t really want to. Well, it’s more of the fact that Erla’s voice is high pitched and slightly annoying, not saying everyone’s voice like that is but her’s is just terrible. You’d rather sign and read braille than hear her talk. You had to put in your hearing aids when you met the Heelshires but you enjoyed their voices. They were a lot better than your younger sister’s.

The story about losing their son was sad but replacing him with a doll? It was slightly uncomfortable. Erla had no problem about it though. The moment the Heelshires left, she ditched the doll and did her own thing. You didn’t want to leave the doll though. You couldn’t really do most of what needed to be done, but you could keep it with you. Besides, the little fellow felt cute, despite being made of cold porcelain and being slightly heavy.

Maybe that’s why the man in the walls was attracted to you. You kept the doll with you and tried your best to follow whatever rules you could. Today was the rare occasion you had your hearing aids in. You weren’t listening to the television or listening to music. You wanted to listen to your footsteps, the random creaks from inside the walls, and the distant sounds of Erla talking on the phone with her significant other. You didn’t care who they were, just as long as they made her happy. You are her older brother, and who are you to deny her any happiness? Besides, you can’t be stuck with her forever.

The doll keeps you company as you walk around the mansion. You have no destination in mind as you walk into a room. With how cold the room is, you already know it’s the kitchen. You place the doll down on a chair, gently tucking the chair in. Despite not being able to see, you can still feel, smell, and taste. And that’s all you need when you cook. You start getting your ingredients; you feel and smell every ingredient you grab, making sure it’s the one you want. When you’ve collected all your ingredients, you start to make dinner.

It’s a small dinner with a basic fruit salad and spaghetti with meatballs. You prepare everything with gentle hands, making sure that when you cut the fruit into smaller pieces, you don’t accidentally nick yourself. The salad is the first thing you finish before moving on to the spaghetti. You keep in mind to make enough for three people: you, Erla, and Brahms.

You hear the walls creak again, but you may not mind it. That is until you hear something opening. You don’t look up though and pretend you didn’t hear anything. You can hear quiet footsteps approaching you from behind. Despite how quiet they are, you can tell that the person must be heavy or at least tall; maybe even both. Their breathing seems to be heavy as they approach you.

You keep busy, not leaving the other person know you know about them being there. You freeze up when you feel a Gentle Touch on your hip. You don’t move away though, leading to the person slowly wrapping around your waist. “[Redacted]?” You hear a boy’s voice behind, not matching the large figure that is now pressed against you. “[Redacted]... I finally get to touch you… [Redacted]...” The voice sounds like the one on the phone. Or the one Erla has told you about. You never answer the phone since you never seem to have your hearing aids in when the calls happen. You give him a small hum of acknowledgment, unsure of who he is. Your answer is soon answered by the man.

“Do you like little me? Mommy said he was always so perfect…” You feel a mask(?) told the top of your head. It’s cold and sends a small shiver down your spine. You don’t want to anger him so you simply shake your head. “No..? Does that mean you like me more?” The boy voice being used slightly unsettles you but you’re sure there’s a reason for it; there’s always a reason for everything. You give him a nod as you finish up dinner.

“I knew you were the one… Mommy and Daddy said she was but I hate her. She doesn’t listen to the rules… But you try… You try to,” You hear him take in a deep inhale, his made face still buried in your hair. “You even make me meals, [Redacted]... You’re such a good boy… A nice boy… My beautiful boy…” He sighs out, the child voice still not fitting with his words. His arm around your waist tightens before he seems to force himself to let go. “Be good and don’t tell Erla about this…” You hear a plate and bowl be taken off the counter before his footsteps fade away.

“So! What’s for dinner, [Redacted]? Smells nice!” Erla says suddenly, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, making you flinch.

Subby Danny is a yes!!

Can I ask for sub danny johnson and fem dom reader? Edging and hand jobs if u don't mind. He's a brat too. 100% fights for dominance but the slightest touch to his little throbbing head and he's putty in ur arms, bucking into ur hand and whimpering like a little bitch. He's also v shy cause he's not used to being a bottom 👉🏽👈🏽

Oooh man this was a bit of a challenge as a certified bottom, but I did my best. Hope you like it <3 also for anyone else who sees this, my requests are on!

Sub! Danny Johnson x Reader

"I want to try something different tonight," you start. 

Danny looks up from the papers he had been toiling over, his faux glasses off but still in his reporter clothes. He had come to your apartment right after work, promising to spend some time with you after he finished up his work. But that had been hours ago.

"Oh? And what would that entail, doll?" He replies, an easy smile forming on his face.

"I want to be in charge," you say, lifting your chin up a fraction higher.

His face stays even, but he raises an eyebrow, questioning you wordlessly. Right. He never let shock or surprise show on his face- always needing to be the one in control, in or out of the bedroom. You stand your ground.

"I think it would be a nice change," you push.

He plays with the pen in his hand, flipping it around while he deliberates, staring you down. After a few moments, he turns away, back to his work. 

"Sure baby, whatever would make you happy. We can do it after I finish up my piece for the paper," he dismisses you, already focused again.

You were prepared for this reaction. For him to not take you seriously, to try and remain in control even while pretending to give it up.

You walk away to your bedroom where he hid his duffel bag of tools for his… Late night outings. You had let him leave it at your place in case the police ever searched his own apartment- as a sign that he could trust you. You dig through the bag, pushing away his ghostface outfit to reveal exactly what you wanted. 

You stride back out to the living room where he sat at your computer desk, and without saying anything, press his own gutting knife to his throat.

He sighs, unphased. "And what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm doing exactly what I said I'd be doing. Taking control." 

You push the knife harder against his throat, finally earning a small gasp. You bend over the side of the computer chair to see that you've drawn a small amount of blood- a little red line now trickling down his neck.

"Can't this wait?" He questions, his voice a little uneven. 

"No, it can't. Stay still." You command while pulling the knife away from his throat and spinning the computer chair around to face you and the rope you were holding in your other hand.

While his eyes were narrowed, he couldn't hide the forming hardness under his work slacks. You let a smug smile creep onto your face as you quickly work to bind his wrists to the arms of the chair and his ankles together, using a technique you had taught yourself months ago. Once you finish, you stand back, admiring your work. 

"Are you proud of yourself?" He asks, annoyed. 

"Quite, actually," you reply chipperly. 

"You know I'm allowing this to happen, correct?"

Ah, and there it was. You expected this from him; to try and regain control as quickly as he loses it. You lazily spin the knife around in your hand, showing off yet another skill you had taught yourself in your time of dating a serial killer.

"Actually, I think I could've very easily slit your throat just then when you weren't paying attention-" you watch his cock twitch in his pants "-and I think you'll let me do what I want, or else."

He scoffs. "Fine, do what you want."

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. 

"One more thing, Danny, sweetie…" you coo, taking the tip of the knife to under his chin and pushing his face up to meet yours. "You're going to quit trying to control this with that nasty mouth of yours, and instead put it to better use; Begging me to let you cum." 

His eyes widen as he holds your gaze, and swallows loudly. You give a smirk of approval, and reach down to unzip his slacks, reaching into his briefs to pull out his hardened member. He lets out a deep breath as you begin to work your hand up and down. 

You keep it at an even pace for a bit, listening to his hitched breathing as you both stare each other down. Then you begin to pump faster, and he allows himself to relax into the chair and enjoy himself more.

You look down to see precum forming at his pink tip, and back up to his face to a light blush forming in his cheeks. He begins to buck up into your hand, moving with you as you pleasure him. 

"I want to hear you moan for me," you instruct. 

He grinds his teeth, slowing his bucking. 

"No." 

"Yes," you push.

But he holds his ground, refusing to make any noise. 

You take your hand off of him, and before he can stop himself, he whimpers. The blush in his cheeks grows darker in embarrassment. You smile. 

"See? Little moans and whimpers like that, baby."

"Shut up. Just… Just fucking touch it again," he grumbles. You hum in response. He looks down, then softly murmurs, "...please."

"Good boy," you coo. Reaching back down you begin again, jerking faster than before. He now freely moans, looking anywhere but your face. 

After each noise you go faster, setting a brutal pace as he continues bucking, trying to keep up with you. It isn't long before he's panting along with his whimpers, building up to the edge. 

"Fuck I'm- I'm gonna-" he cries out.

You immediately take your hand off his cock.

He finally looks at you, shocked that you would stop. 

"Beg for it." You say, your tone harsh.

You can see him deciding if it's worth it. You almost laugh at his feeble attempt to still regain control. But he couldn't see what you could see- a flushed face and dick, lust in his eyes, the way he's lightly biting his lip.

After a few more seconds of deliberating, he yet again looks off to the side. Softly, so softly, he manages out a 'please'. You shake your head.

"I'm going to need more than that, honey." You grab his chin, forcing him to look you dead in the eye. "I want you to beg beg. I want you to show how pathetic you are, how much you need it. How much you would do to finally cum."

He lets out a hot breath. "Please, let me cum. I… I need it, so, so fucking bad. I would do anything for it," he nearly cries. You can see his cock still throbbing, begging for release. 

"Good pet," you praise, dropping down to your knees and putting his dick in your mouth. 

"Fuck," he nearly shouts, as you swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting his precum. He begins thrusting into your mouth, and you let him, switching to bobbing your head up and down his shaft. You guessed he was building back up again rather fast by the strained curses he lets out, finally not bothering to take control anymore.

So you reward him by letting him pummel into your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat that would have you gagging had you not been more experienced. Your hands move up his thighs and you grip there, holding yourself in place. 

Finally, after what felt like forever, you feel his  warm cum shot miss your tongue all together and hit the back of your throat, immediately swallowing it. You take your mouth off his member with an obscenely wet 'pop', and look up at him, as saliva drips down your chin.

"I told you I'd make you beg for it."

Sweetness of little space, need more of this that isn't being sexualized. Might write some, as I have a Poly!Ghostface in the making

‘Movie Night’ !SFW! Brahms Heelshire x GN Reader

Contains: Little Space Comfort, Brahms in Little Space

Requested by Anonymous on Wattpad

“Of course Mrs. Heelshire. Enjoy your night!” you called as you watched the old couple happily get into a car from the front steps of their home. You couldn’t deny that the couple had been looking much happier as opposed to when you first arrived.

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