an: apologies for the cringey divider. it just fit so well 😭
summary: gerard fingerfucks sweetheartartist!reader, while praising her for her talent
warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, comfort, fingerfucking, suuper sweet gee, praise, ddlg undertones, daddy kink, somnophillia, dacryphillic undertones.
the front door clicked shut with a soft, deliberate quietness. gerard had learned to move like a ghost when he suspected you might be deep in your zone, or as it turned out tonight, deep in exhausted oblivion.
the apartment was dim, the only real light spilling from the desk lamp in the corner of the living room that you had claimed as your studio. he toed off his boots, set his keys down without a sound, and padded over.
you were slumped forward in your chair, cheek pillowed on your folded arms, fast asleep. a thin trail of drool glistened on the wooden desk beside your open sketchbook. your fingers still loosely clutched a worn graphite pencil. the page beneath you was half-finished, a delicate, dreamy landscape that looked like it had been pulled straight from whatever soft, wild place lived inside your head. smudges of charcoal dusted your nose and the side of your hand. you looked so sweet and so fiercely dedicated even in sleep that something in gerards chest twisted hard.
he stood there for a long moment, just watching you breathe. the city noise outside might as well have been on another planet.
fuck the sun, he thought, the corner of his mouth lifting. fuck the whole solar system. the earth revolves around you.
gerard crossed the room and crouched beside the chair, careful not to jolt you. up close he could see the tired shadows under your eyes, the faint crease between your brows that hadnt quite relaxed even in sleep. you had been at it for hours again. days, probably.
“baby,” he whispered, voice low and warm like honey poured over gravel. one big hand came up to gently brush a lock of hair off your forehead. “my talented girl”
you stirred with a tiny, confused hum but didnt wake fully. a soft snuffle escaped you, and another little drip of drool threatened to join the small wet spot on the desk. gerards heart did something stupid and melted.
he reached over and carefully slid the pencil from your slack fingers, setting it aside. then he eased the sketchbook out from under your cheek, and set it on the cleanest corner of the desk. the finished pieces from earlier in the week were pinned up on the wall above, beautiful, aching things that made strangers stop and stare when you showcased them. he was so goddamn proud he sometimes didnt know what to do with it.
“alright, little artist,”he murmured. time to stop trying to become one with the furniture.
he slid one arm under your knees, the other behind your back, and lifted. you made a sleepy protesting sound and instinctively tucked your face into his neck, smearing a bit of drool and charcoal against his collarbone. gerard only chuckled softly, low and fond, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
he carried you down the short hall to your bedroom, flicking on the bedside lamp with his elbow. the sheets were still rumpled from this morning. he laid you down as if you were made of blown glass, then knelt to tug off your socks and loosen the waistband of your comfy drawing pants. you sighed in relief and curled toward his warmth when he climbed in beside you.
gerard pulled the blanket up over both of you and tucked you against his chest, one large hand stroking slow, soothing circles between your shoulder blades. his lips brushed your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.
“i saw the new piece,” he whispered against your skin. “its incredible. you keep pulling entire worlds out of your head like its nothing. i dont know how you do it, but im so fucking proud of you it hurts.”
you made a small, unconscious happy noise and nuzzled closer, fingers curling into his shirt. “m-mean it-?” you asked sleepily, babbling about how much you love him.
he smiled in the dark, holding you tighter. “the sun can go fuck itself as far as i’m concerned, the earth revolves around you.”
a small tear rolled down your cheek, and you clung to him desperately, filled with love. gerard stayed awake a while longer, just listening to you breathe, occasionally pressing soft kisses wherever he could reach, your hair, your wrist, the smudge of charcoal on your nose. when you finally sighed his name in your sleep, soft and trusting, he felt like the richest man alive.
your eyes fluttered open a little while later as his hand slipped gently between your thighs, warm and careful. “shh, daddy’s here,” he murmured, voice low and soothing against your ear while two thick fingers eased slowly into your warmth, curling just right. “thats it, good girl. let daddy take care of his tired little artist. youve been working so hard, creating all those pretty things, m’so proud of you, baby. so fucking proud.”
you whimpered softly. “ah- nghhh!”, hips twitching as he pumped his fingers in slow, lazy strokes, thumb circling your clit with tender pressure. his other arm held you close, lips brushing your temple. “you’re my perfect girl,” he praised, voice thick with love. “look at you.. taking daddys fingers so sweetly even when youre half asleep. you deserve to feel good after all that hard work. cum for me whenever you need to, little one. daddys got you, just like that… good girl.”
