for my daddy. 🖤🔥👸 yours. always.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
I wake up sore.
Everywhere.
The ache hums beneath my skin, deep and insistent, a brand only he can give me. It lingers in my thighs, in my wrists, in the tender places he held me down and made me his.
I should hate it.
I should feel guilty.
But all I feel is warm.
Soft and lazy and his.
I shift in bed, stretching like a cat, my body protesting every movement. The sheets are cool now, but I can still feel the ghost of him--his hands, his mouth, the heat of his body covering mine.
And today, for once, we don't have to pretend.
No forced distance. No careful silences. No stolen moments behind locked doors.
Mom is gone.
I was barely awake when she left--just a drowsy, aching thing curled under the blankets, watching through heavy lashes as she kissed him goodbye. I don't remember the details. Just that her voice was soft, that she told him not to wait up.
That the second the door clicked shut, his eyes found mine.
And I saw it.
The hunger. The claim.
The promise that I wouldn't be able to walk straight when he was done with me.
Now, I feel it in every inch of my body.
And when the bed shifts behind me, when his hands skim over my back, slow and lazy, I know--
He's not done yet.
A kiss.
Pressed between my shoulder blades.
Another.
Trailing up the back of my neck, lazily worshipping me.
A sleepy sigh melts from my lips as I turn into his touch, nuzzling against his chest, feeling the warmth of his bare skin against mine.
"Mm," I mumble, my voice still thick with sleep.
Daddy chuckles. Low. Rough.
"Morning, sweetheart."
I hum, blinking up at him through heavy lashes, soft and pliant and perfect.
His Babygirl.
He loves me like this.
Melted. Sweet. Not fighting.
Just here.
Just his.
He kisses my forehead, then my nose, then my lips--slow and lazy, like he has all the time in the world. And when I sigh into his mouth, my body pressing closer, my fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, his chest aches.
Because I'm so fucking beautiful.
I shift, climbing into his lap, arms wrapping around his neck, pressing myself against him like I never want to be apart. And he feels it. This isn't just need. This isn't just desperation.
This is something deeper.
Something that aches in the quiet moments.
Something that stays.
I press a kiss to his jaw, slow and sweet, fingers trailing down his chest.
And then, whisper-soft--"Daddy?"
He hums, stroking his hands down my spine.
I hesitate, my cheeks flushing pink.
"Can we... can we just go slow today?"
His heart fucking breaks.
Because he knows what I'm asking.
Not just for tenderness. Not just for something different. I'm asking him to love me.
Like I'm fragile.
Like I'm his to keep.
Like I'm not a mistake.
I swallow, looking away, like I'm scared he'll say no.
But he cups my jaw, tilts my face up to his.
And when he kisses me--**slow, deep, reverent--**I melt.
⸻
He lays me back, covering my body with his, kissing me like I'm something holy. His hands memorize me--every curve, every soft place, every inch of me that belongs to him.
I sigh into his mouth, trusting him completely, letting him take me apart at his own pace.
I gasp as he pushes inside me, slow and deep, like he's claiming me all over again.
My legs wrap around him, arms clinging to his shoulders, holding onto him like he's the only thing keeping me steady.
Because he is.
He always is.
We move together. No teasing. No bratting. No punishment.
Just love.
