Discover Top Posts Tagged with #neuvillette

♡ 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘, 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆~! ♡

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬?

🥞 featuring: {separate}: 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 🥞 tw: yandere content ♡ breeding kink♡ lots of creampies♡ babytrapping ♡ noncon♡ lingerie♡ bondage (w/cuffs)♡ spanking♡ feral♡ manhandling♡ filming♡ implied murder♡ teratophilia♡ face fucking♡ foodplay♡ backshots♡ condom “tearing”♡ feminization♡ biting♡ kidnapping & pet names 🥞 a/n: ♡ REPOSTED haters hate to see yo girl winning. Pls boost!!! ♡ no but fr... just block me...stop this madness.

🥞 CHILDE — The BabyFever Hubby:

“Doll face!” he chirped, catching sight of you in the doorway. His smile stretched wide, red hair sticking to his damp forehead. “You made it just in time. Family meals should always be eaten together, don’t you think?”

Your throat went dry.

He set two plates down on the table with an exaggerated flourish, then tapped his chin like he’d just remembered something important. “Oh—and I was thinking… the spare room upstairs? It’d make the perfect nursery.”

The words hit you like a bucket of ice water.

Your unease only deepened. He knew you didn’t want children—he’d always known. From the beginning, you told him you weren’t cut out to be a mother, that if he wanted a family, he should leave while he still could.

You had been clear: the two of you were incompatible.

But Childe had only smiled, insisting he loved you more than anything. Kids or not, he wasn’t going anywhere.

And yet lately… he’d been slipping. The way he lingered on nursery talk, the way “family” kept dripping from his tongue like honey you didn’t want to taste. Every time you reminded him, he only laughed, brushing your words aside.

“You’ll come around,” he’d say, his grin so bright it made your skin crawl.

Something about those words lodged in your chest, heavy and wrong.

-🥞-

You came home late, still in your work clothes, and found him waiting—shirtless this time, iron in one hand, your blouse folded neatly beside him. "Welcome home~"

It should’ve been sweet. It should’ve been normal.

But then he looked up at you with that gleam in his eyes, and you knew.

Minutes later, your body was bent over the couch, cheek pressed into the cushions while Childe rutted into you from behind, his grip bruising your hips.

The couch groaned beneath the rhythm of his thrusts, the fabric slipping under your fingers as you clutched the edges for dear life.

“Nggh—so tight,” he moaned into your ear, voice ragged, every word a groan. “Fuck, baby, it’s like you’re trying to milk me already.”

You whimpered, face scrunching in discomfort as the sharp snap of latex breaking filled the room.

The condom.

Your eyes flew wide. “Ajax—oh my god—pull out!”

But he only stilled for a heartbeat, his chest shuddering against your back as the raw heat of your cunt pulsed around him. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his head fell forward with a groan.

Oh, fuck—oh, fuck

You struggled beneath him, panic rising, but his grip locked like iron. “Baby, c-can’t. Too fucking good—shit—can’t stop,” he gasped, easing his hips into you slowly, savoring every inch of bare flesh against his cock. “I’ll buy you pills tomorrow, promise! Just… let me feel you!”

“No, Ajax, I don’t want—”

“You will.” His voice broke into a shaky laugh. “You’ll come around. You always do.”

Your body betrayed you, clenching tight, and he let out a low, broken moan. His thoughts spilled out as his thrusts grew stronger, more erratic.

“Look at you—your body already knows it belongs to me.” His voice cracked into a panting whimper. “Your womb’s empty, sweetheart. Let me fix that.”

“Gonna pump you so full it seeps out for days. Everyone will know you’re mine.”

You kicked weakly, thrashing, but he held you down with ease, lips brushing your ear as he whispered feverishly, “Tears won’t change anything, baby. Cry all you want—I’ll just kiss them away while I make you a mother.”

A laugh tore from his throat, jagged and wet with tears, even as his hips pistoned faster. “Don’t you get it? I need this. I need us. The family. The house. The kids.”

The couch shook violently under his pace, every thrust shoving you deeper into the cushions. Sweat dripped from his temple onto your bare back, his breathing uneven, desperate, manic.

And that’s when you realized with horror: this wasn’t an accident. He’d planned this.

He was actually trying to get you pregnant.

“Five kids minimum,” he choked out between sobs and gasps. “Ten if you can handle it. Sweet cheeks, don’t worry—I’ll take such good care of you. That’s what your hubby is for, right?"

He spread your legs wider, fucking into you with a feverish rhythm, sweat dripping from his brow.

His pupils had blown wide, heart-shaped and glossy, drooling euphoria as his hips clapped against yours.

You arched under him, tears streaking down your cheeks, shaking your head—but he only kissed the salt off your skin, murmuring against your lips.

“Shhh… so pretty… you’ll look so fucking perfect swollen with my child.”

His voice broke into a ragged scream as he buried himself to the hilt, clutching your hands tight while hot ropes of cum painted your womb white.

“One more,” he panted, eyes wild and glassy. “S’more… one… one more time.”

His words slurred with desperation, and though you sobbed and screamed no, he didn’t hear you—or maybe he didn’t want to.

The hours blurred together. Again and again, he used you, stuffing you full until your thighs and the cushions beneath were drenched with his seed.

Your pussy clenched helplessly, overflowing each time he pulled out only to drive back in, cock glistening with a mix of cum and slick.

“AJAX!—AH!—SLOW DOWN!” you choked out, voice breaking as the couch squealed under your weight, the fabric sticky with the mess dripping out of you.

He only groaned, eyes rolling back. “Ngh—gonna breed you—gonna cum so fuckin’ hard in this tight pussy. Archons—won’t stop till it takes.” His hips snapped deeper, cum spurting in hot waves as he trembled above you, panting, sweaty, high on the thought of you, round with his child.

Your body shook beneath him, tears soaking the cushions.

But Childe only pressed his lips to your temple, breathless and soft, as though you hadn’t just been broken down under him.

“Mm… Ajax Jr., if it’s a boy. Y/n if it’s a girl.” He hummed sweetly, cuddling you against his chest like a man in love, while you lay half-dead, body leaking from his hours-long assault.

By morning, he’s already on top of you again preparing the next breeding session.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he hovered over your tired form, smiling like nothing was wrong.

“You’ll thank me once you’re pregnant.♡”

🥞 NEUVILLETTE — The Dutiful Hubby:

Neuvillette stood in the bathroom, sleeves rolled up, carefully wringing out a cloth.

A porcelain basin sat waiting on the counter, filled with steaming water that smelled faintly of lavender. Fresh towels were stacked neatly, a change of clothes folded beside them.

He had been preparing for you.

His pale eyes lifted as the melusines dropped you off, locking onto your crumpled form on the floor. A faint frown tugged at his lips, though his voice when he spoke was soft, gentle, almost reverent.

“You’re home,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “Why did you leave? Look at you—you’re shaking.”

He placed the cloth aside, hands steady, movements deliberate. Too deliberate. The calm of a man fighting something far more feral under the surface.

“Come. I’ll clean you up.”

His overprotectiveness was suffocating—his shadow followed you everywhere, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

But Neuvillette didn’t see it that way. To him, serving you was his sacred duty. A duty that was non-negotiable, all-consuming.

It wasn’t about what you wanted. It was about what he believed you needed.

When you escaped, he broke. Fontaine bore the weight of his grief in days of endless rain, waterlogged streets echoing his despair.

He kept asking himself why.

Why wasn’t he enough?

Hasn’t he given you everything?

His human heart whispered that he had failed you. But the dragon inside him—hungry, restless—roared things he dared not speak aloud.

She is weak without me. She cannot live without me.

Her blood calls to me—proof she is fertile, proof she must be claimed. Her pain is mine to ease.

Her body is mine to mend. Her womb is mine to fill.

The thoughts shamed him, horrified him. And yet they thrilled him.

You crumpled with a sharp gasp as a cramp seized your body, curling into yourself on the floor.

His eyes softened immediately. The sight of you trembling, tears spilling down your cheeks, cut him open.

“Beloved…” he whispered, taking a hesitant step closer. His composure cracked—this wasn’t control anymore, it was instinct.

His dragon side thrashed, urging him to scoop you up, to bury his face between your legs, to drink, to heal, to breed.

Your whimpers only deepened the fracture in his restraint.

He should punish you for your defiance—for the way you hurt him when you ran.

But his chest ached at the very thought. How could he punish the only soul who mattered?

His voice cracked, low and desperate, as though the words themselves might break him.

“I swore to protect you. To serve you. Even from yourself.”

He abandoned the towel in his hand, wet and crumpled, and walked closer, but when you scrambled away, panic flashing in your eyes, his heart shattered.

The rain outside tapped harder against the window, mimicking the tears gathering in his own lashes as he reached for you, apology spilling from him in a torrent.

“Don’t—don’t look at me like that. Please,” he begged, kneeling, hands trembling though his voice tried to steady itself. “I would never harm you. You are my purpose. My sanctity. My… wife.”

For a moment, you almost believed him. Almost.

Then his breath hitched. His eyes darkened, glowing faintly, and before you could recoil, his body surged forward—pinning you flat against the fluffy mat.

“Where would you even go, my love?” His tone was low, trembling between anguish and hunger. “You cannot run from me. Not when your pain calls to me. Not when your blood cries out for my touch.”

His eyes flickered wildly—purple one moment, glowing feral the next—as he hovered above you, trembling hands cupping your face. “Forgive me,” he whispered, even as his cock strained thick and swollen against his trousers.

Your squirming only made it worse, the friction dragging a strangled groan from his throat.

“Ngh—stop—d-don’t move like that—” His restraint shattered.

With a guttural growl, his mouth slammed against your neck, teeth piercing flesh. You cried out as hot blood welled, only for his tongue to lap at the mess greedily, desperate, reverent.

He rutted against you on the bathroom tiles, curses breaking past his lips in ragged bursts.“I swore to protect you… but—hngh!—you make me… lose myself.”

In one brutal motion, he shoved your legs up to your shoulders, splitting you open beneath his broad weight.

His cock—longer, thicker, crueler than you thought possible—slid against your folds before forcing its way inside.

Ouch.Your poor coochie...

The stretch burned, your scream muffled by his feverish kiss.

“Ahhh—beloved,” he moaned, voice breaking into something almost bestial. “Tight—so perfect—my wife, my mate, my duty.” His hips slammed forward, dragon strength snapping the porcelain edge of the tub as he braced himself, claws digging into the tile.

Your nails raked at his chest, weak pushes against his relentless weight. “Y-you’re insane! N-neuvi—, ah! stop!”

He only trembled, tears gathering in his lashes as his cock drove deeper, wetter, messier with every thrust.

Blood smeared across the clean floor where his knees dragged, your breasts bouncing violently with each snap of his hips.

“A-apologies—but this is mercy,” he choked, fucking harder, voice breaking into a roar that shook the walls. “Sex will soothe your pain—fill your womb—make you whole again. Don’t you see? I am serving you. I am a good mate. I am—yours.”

The storm outside raged louder, wind rattling the panes, rain pounding in sheets as though Fontaine itself screamed with you.

Overstimulation blurred into delirium—your body trembling, clenching, convulsing as he ground his hips deeper, chasing the heat that consumed him. His voice cracked, rambling feverishly against your ear.

“Don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me. Without you, hah… I am nothing. W-with you—I am complete.”

His body shuddered violently, cock twitching deep inside as he came hard, pumping thick, scalding loads into your battered cunt until it leaked back down his shaft and onto the tiles.

He buried his face against your throat, sobbing and whispering apologies as his hips jerked through the aftershocks.

When it was over, he carried you—limp, shaking—to the porcelain tub. He sat you inside gently, turning on the warm water, his hands washing blood and cum from your skin with painstaking tenderness.

As though the cracks in the tile, the bruises on your body, the storm outside didn’t exist.

“There,” he murmured, pressing a trembling kiss to your temple as he wrung out the lavender cloth. “Clean. Safe. Mine.”

He tucked a towel around your shoulders, humming softly like nothing had happened at all.

🥞 VARKA — The Golden Retriever Hubby:

He screwed up. Bad.

Pacing the living room in a frilly red set of lace that clung awkwardly to his big frame, Varka dragged a hand through his blonde hair, muttering to himself.

Usually, this man was happy, mischievous, and almost puppy-like in nature.

But right now?

He was spiraling.

Varka followed you to work.

Made a scene.

Got you fired.

His excuse?—“You’re working too much!”—rang hollow even to his own ears.

The truth was obvious: he didn’t want you leaving the house anymore.

“She’ll forgive me,” he whispered, nodding to himself as if that would make it true. “I’ll show her I can be good.”

From your seat at the table, your heart pounded. He cooed over his “special surprise,” humming sweetly while arranging something out of sight.

His voice carried the same playful tone as always, but your gut twisted.

You weren’t tied down this time, yet something in your bones told you not to test him.

After all, he wasn’t just some lovesick fool. He’d once been a military commander.

A scar along his neck still reminded you of that past—the part of him you’d rather not see wake up again.

When he finally turned around, the sight made you choke on your spit.

His cock, massive and heavy, stood hard against the delicate lingerie, veins prominent, the tip smeared with a swirl of whipped cream. He grinned at you with hearts in his eyes, voice rough but giddy.

“Look, sweetheart,” he breathed, presenting himself like an offering. “Something sweet… just for you. C’mon, don’t be shy. Husbands are supposed to spoil their wives.”

He set himself on the table right in front of you, laughing breathlessly, his chest heaving. The lace strained over his broad body comically, obscenely.

“Don’t make me beg, baby,” he crooned, stroking himself slowly, the cream smearing messily down his shaft. “You know I’d do anything for you. Just… show me you still love me.”

Your stomach dropped. Like hell you were putting that monstrous thing down your throat.

But the way his gaze locked on you—wild, pleading, dangerous—you realized the answer didn’t really matter.

“Pleaseeeee, baby,” he whined, his big frame trembling as he leaned closer, voice almost breaking. “Don’t make me beg on my knees. Just… just one taste. I need it. I need you. Say ah~”

You scrunched your face, lips pressed tight, disgust written all over you. He pouted, eyes wide, almost pitiful.

Then—suddenly—his hand clamped over your jaw, prying it open, and before you could resist, his cock was forcing its way down, heavy and thick, hitting the back of your throat in one brutal thrust.

“Fuhhhck, yes,” he groaned, head tipping back, pupils glowing and forming into frantic heart shapes. Drool ran from the corner of his mouth as he panted, chest heaving. “Been n-needing this. Don’t—don’t move. Just stay like that—ah, shit—so warm.”

You gagged and sputtered, nails digging into the table, trying to pull back, but his grip locked tight around your skull with terrifying strength.

His lidded eyes burned down at you, spit dripping from his lips onto your face as his hips began to snap forward.

“Don’t move, that’s… ah, f-fuck!” His voice cracked into a growl, sliding into something darker, something closer to the commander he once was. “Take it. That’s an order.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his cock battered into the depths of your gullet, each thrust violent, forcing you to choke and gag.

“Ahhh—Archons, I love you. I love you so much, baby—don’t you get it? You’re mine.” His voice wavered, breaking into desperate whimpers. “Can’t lose you. Not again. Never again.”

The table rattled under his force, your legs scraping helplessly against the floor as he used you like a cocksleeve.

He leaned harder into it, eyes rolling back, confession spilling out between ragged moans. “Quit everything—quit my job—couldn’t stand being away. SHIT!, tried to hold back, I really did, but it just got worse, baby, worse and worse. And then you—oh god, you started pulling away—”

He slammed into your throat brutally, his heavy balls smacking against your chin.

“Take it! Take it all, ahhh—so pretty like this. a—dorable little wife with her mouth stuffed full—what else do you even need?!”

Your jaw throbbed, aching from the stretch, but he didn’t notice—too far gone, rutting into your face like he’d die without it.

His manic grin split wider, laughter bubbling up as his voice cracked.

“Got you fired, yeah. Heh—fuck it—couldn’t let you go back there. Couldn’t let them see you smile. You’re mine. My girl. My everything. You loved me before—why’s it so hard now?”

The table rocked violently as his thrusts grew savage, holding your head flush against him, muffling your cries into the thick girth, stretching your airway.

“Please, please, please, please!” he begged, voice desperate, unhinged. “Love me! Just—just love me back!”

Your vision swam, pain radiating through your neck as he held you in place, rutting faster, each thrust deeper than the last.

“You don’t need the outside world,” he growled, spit flying as he pounded harder. “You don’t need friends. Don’t need a job. Don’t need a future. You don’t need anything. Just this. Just me!”

Another brutal snap of his hips, forcing your throat to convulse around him.

“Everything you need is right here—with your pretty mouth choking on my cock where it belongs.”

His thrusts grew sloppy, frantic, the table shaking under the weight of him rutting into your face. His voice cracked into ragged moans, babbling between sobs and laughter.

“Nghh!—ahh!, cumming!—gonna give you everything—fill you till you can’t breathe without me!—”

With one last brutal shove, he buried himself to the base, cock twitching violently as hot streams of cum flooded your gullet.

You gagged, choking, your stomach twisting from the overload.

You sputtered, gagging so hard you puked, sticky streams of cum spilling back out onto your lips and chin, flowing out your nose.

Varka only cooed lovingly, cupping your sweaty face, kissing your forehead tenderly. “Ohh, look at you, baby. Good girl. Such a good girl for me. Ate so well, didn’t you? I just fed you your dinner, hm? My perfect wife.”

You were shaking, vision swimming, an existential dread curling in your chest.

Oblivious to your crisis he pulled you up into his massive arms, wrapping you in a bone-crushing hug. He peppered sloppy smooches all over your face—your cheeks, your temple, even your tearstained mouth.

“I’ll take care of you forever,” he whispered, rocking you like you were fragile. “No bosses, no one to hurt you. Just my special meals. They don’t deserve you. You’re mine. You’re ours.”

His grin widened as he licked your face, manic devotion glowing in his dark blue eyes.

“I’ve got plenty of money anyway. We don’t need anyone else. Isn’t this the best life you could ask for? Isn’t your husband the best? ♡”

He kissed you again, tasting the mix of salt, spit, and cum on your lips, humming happily to himself.

🥞 WRIOTHESLEY — The “Provider” Hubby:

The smell of pancakes drifted through the house, sweet and buttery, almost enough to mask the muffled screams still echoing from the bedroom.

Wriothesley stood in the kitchen in nothing but a pair of black briefs, humming under his breath as he flipped a pancake with practiced ease.

Calm. Collected. Like he hadn’t spent the entire night breaking you down.

He poured tea, settled into a chair, and chuckled to himself as he scrolled lazily through his phone. “Mm. Wore her out good,” he muttered, smirking into the steam before taking a slow sip.

When breakfast was ready, he arranged everything neatly on a tray, even added a little folded napkin for flair, then padded down the hall.

The door creaked open to reveal you bound to the bedpost, wrists cuffed, mouth gagged, eyes burning holes into him.

“Morning, sunshine,” he drawled.

He set the tray on the nightstand, sat on the edge of the bed, and cooed, squishing your cheeks.

His grin widened when you tried to kick him. Catching your ankle effortlessly, he tsked like you were a misbehaving child.

“Still mad at me?” he teased, icy eyes glinting as he plucked the gag from your mouth.

The first thing you did was spit in his face.

Wriothesley only laughed, low and warm, wiping his cheek with the napkin meant for your breakfast. “Feisty. Cute.”

He scooped up a spoonful of pancakes, brought it to your lips.

You turned your head.

He sighed dramatically, popped the bite into his own mouth, chewed slowly, then leaned in and kissed you, forcing the food past your lips.

“Swallow.”

Disgusting

You choked, but obeyed. His grin softened. “Good girl.~”

He fed you another bite, voice calm, casual, like he was making small talk over morning tea. “You really shouldn’t have run. And you really shouldn’t have thought she could hide you, hm?”

Another spoonful, gently pressed to your lips. “She’s dead now. You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

Your stomach twisted, but before you could speak, his tone shifted—quieter, lower, almost sulking.

His thumb brushed your cheek, his expression oddly boyish, almost pouty, despite the steel in his grip.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured, eyes locking with yours. “You know I only do this because I love you. Because no one else can.”

“Our son needs his mother to be happy. Don’t make him think he’s the reason you cry.”

“Yeah? You’re the fucking reason!”

He only scoffed, shaking his head like you were being dramatic.

A warm palm cupped your cheek, deceptively tender. “If you just relax, I’ll take care of everything. No bills. No stress. No… freedom to ruin yourself.”

“YOU ASS—”

The words choked off when he shoved a piece of pancake into your mouth, syrup dribbling down your chin.

He leaned in, tongue dragging up the sticky trail, humming like it was his favorite flavor.

“Mm. Sweetheart, even your anger tastes good.”

He pulled out his phone, camera light flicking on. Your eyes went wide.

“Don’t look at me like that. Smile for the camera, sweetheart. Let’s make a memory.~”

The lens lingered on your face as you turned away. His voice dropped, tone silkier now. “Not cooperating? Then I’ll just record something better.”

The mattress dipped as he climbed over you, settling the tray aside. Flipping you on your knees, the cuffs tightening around your wrists.

His lips brushed your cheek as his free hand slipped between your thighs, fingers prying you open.

“You’ll let me feed you breakfast, but not let me feed this greedy little cunt?” His chuckle vibrated against your ear. “You’re not very consistent, hm?”

The first press of his cock against your slit made you jolt against the cuffs. He only murmured soothingly, angling the phone so the camera caught your trembling body stretched beneath him.

“Shhh… don’t fight. You look so much cuter when you accept it.”

His hips rocked into you slowly, deliberately, letting you feel every inch. The sound of your slick was obscene, mixing with the faint hum of him recording.

“That’s it. Arch for me.” He landed a sharp spank across your ass, the camera catching the way your skin rippled and reddened under his palm.

“Perfect. Again.”

Another slap, harder, timed with a deeper thrust.

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he cooed, filming the jiggle of your ass as he slammed into you. “Who provides for you? Who keeps you safe?”

You whimpered, vision hazy, words slurring incoherent.

SMACK.

“Wrong answer.”

His hand slid to your throat, squeezing just enough to cut off your protest as his thrusts grew sharper.

He leaned close, voice breaking into a low groan.“You can’t escape me. Not when we’ve got him—our boy—tying us together. You’ll always come back. Because you’re mine. Because you’re the perfect wife.”

Your body jolted with every snap of his hips, the camera capturing it all—the spit dripping from your lips, the tears on your cheeks, the way your ass reddened under his palm.

“Say it,” he panted, cock twitching deep inside you. “Say I’m- ngh! T-the only one you need. The only husband you’ll ever have.”

When you sputtered another curse, his groan turned guttural, his hips snapping rougher, his voice breaking.

“Shit!– you don't get it. I am everything. Provider. Protector. Husband. Father. You don’t need the world. You j-just need me.”

He came with a loud, unrestrained moan, burying himself to the hilt, grinding to keep every drop inside.

The camera caught his trembling body over yours, his hand tight around your throat as he whispered, almost tender:

“Hah…ah….mm…You get good dick. You get a good life. Why would you leave?”

When he pulled out, you flopped into the sheets, body ruined, wrists raw from the cuffs.

He only kissed your temple, tucking the blanket neatly around you. “Mm, we should play cops and robbers next time.~” He saved the video, definitely using it to get off to later.

“Rest up. I’ll bring lunch later.”

The sound of him humming drifted back as he walked out, the clatter of dishes and running water echoing from the kitchen, replaying the video on speaker.

a/n: 0/10 don't recommend. Divorce, they assess. But they would prolly burn the papers anyway, fun fact childe's piece is a personal fear of mines. 🫩

♡ 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 ♡

#neuvillette

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#neuvillette