Fluffy Shorts 18+ NSFW

Our First House

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This story contains themes of BD/SM, DD Kink, Strong language and Sexual themes

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I hum happily to the songs playing on the radio. The chilly morning air nips the skin of my naked legs. I flip on the hot tap and fill the sink while I cook. The smell of bacon and coffee wafting through the house is comforting. I glance at the clock, the time reads 5:30, and as if on cue, I hear the bed springs cry out in protest as he shifts his weight. His bare feet barely make a sound as they carry him from the bedroom to the bathroom.

I feel my stomach flutter while the shower runs. Even after six years, an engagement and buying a house together, I still get nervous around him sometimes. I'm still a lovesick teenager. We've had our arguments, plenty to last a lifetime. Our most recent was last night, it was about something stupid.

We had just moved the last of our belongings into our new house last night. We were both stressed and tired. I was being a bitch and he called timeout and we hadn't spoken since, other than to say goodnight and that we love each other.

I already called his work to let them know he had a bad case of food poisoning -which might be true after he's eaten the breakfast I'm making. I cannot cook for the life of me.

I did take the time to research the recipes for homemade pancakes, and how to cook crispy bacon well and, got up at the crack of dawn to go to the 24-hour Tesco to get the ingredients.

I even got his favourite coffee.

I had just added milk and plated up his breakfast when the shower stopped, I heard the drawers open and close and his heavy footfalls descending the stairs.

"Morning," I smile nervously, "I made you breakfast," I play with the hem of my t-shirt, anticipating a justified "Fuck off,"

Daddy stood in the doorway to the kitchen. His dark hair still wet from the shower, strands framing his face making his blue eyes appear more vibrant. More brazen. He was broad, tall and built like a brick shit house.

Although I knew he would never lay a finger on me maliciously, he still intimidated me.

My heart was hammering watching his eyes take in the feast on the table, then flick to me and get heavy.

"Morning, baby," He smiles softly, closing the distance between us quickly, "The breakfast is lovely but I have to get to work, Angel," He takes my hand away from my shirt and holds it gently, thumbing my knuckles.

"I called in for you half an hour ago, I apologised for calling so early and on your behalf but you were simply too unwell to speak," I ramble, jittery, "I hope you don't mind,"

My breathing is shallow waiting for him to answer, afraid he would be mad at me for making that decision for him.

"Thank you," is all he says

I sigh in relief, "Okay, let's eat," I feel so much better. I was fully expecting him to be mad at me. I pull him to the kitchen table and sit him down before seating myself.

"How long have you been up, baby?"

"Not long," I shrug, sipping my coffee.

"Hm," He nods before eating a forkful of pancake and bacon, "Is this safe to eat?" he asks while chewing

I scoff, "Of course it is, I even bought proper maple syrup!"

"Hm," He says again, swallowing the food in his mouth, "You're not trying to poison me, are you?"