#sinclair bryant | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muiitoloko · 12 days ago

Note

Oioi, quero compartilhar uma ideia que eu tive: Lionel começa a pensar que ele precisa de um herdeiro pq ele já não é mais tão novo e a Shabandar Media precisará de um outro CEO no futuro, ele passa em frente a uma loja de roupas de bebê e vê roupas com tema de safari na vitrine e a de leão chama muito a atenção dele, ele tem o baby fever ativado e o breeding kink aguçado pela ideia de "manter a empresa na família" - baby fever + breeding kink = 🔥

A ideia foi essa, pode mudar, editar, fazer o que quiser com ela pq eu devoro todas as fics que vc escreve de tão boas que elas são, obrigada por ser uma das únicas pessoas que escreve fics do Colin e do Alan ♥️

Title: The Heir to the Shahbandar Empire

Summary: A chance glance at a baby store sparks an unexpected obsession in Lionel: an heir. His wife is in for a wild ride—starting that very night.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: Obrigado pelo seu pedido! Espero que goste disso 🫶

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

Two months. It had been two months since you had finally offered yourself to Sinclair for his greatest happiness. Officially, you had been a couple for eight months, but it had taken you time to offer yourself to him and to feel comfortable enough to tell him your little secret. Well, you hadn't really told him, Sinclair had guessed and you had simply confirmed.

It was now the beginning of December. The week before, you had celebrated your birthday, a drizzly day in November but that Sinclair had managed to brighten up with his presence. And with a chocolate cake, your favorite. He hadn't forgotten. Some people like to make fun of him by saying that he always talks without ever letting anyone else get a word in edgewise, but that's not true, he knew how to listen too.

Today, you were both busy decorating the tree that stood in the beige-toned living room. The warm atmosphere of the room, illuminated by the garlands and the small colored lights that blinked all around you made the living room even more comforting than usual.

"This tree is a little too big, isn't it ?" you asked, laughing softly.

"It doesn't even touch the ceiling," Sinclair replied, kissing your temple.

This was your first Christmas together. The fifth for him since the divorce with the one-who-was-no-longer-named. Well, in your head, you nicknamed her the bitch who had fucked her brother.

"What do you normally do at Christmas ?" you asked, hanging a glass ball on the tree.

"When I was a kid, we had big, lavish parties. My parents' whole house was decorated: big trees, luxurious dinners, expensive gifts. The kids stayed in the playroom most of the time. Honestly, it was kind of boring."

You looked away, a little embarrassed. It was obvious that you and Sinclair didn't come from the same world, even if it had never bothered him.

"With... With you know who, it was always very cold. If I threw a big party, she told me she felt left out, if we were invited to my parents' house, she said he made fun of her - which is totally false ! - and if it was just the two of us... well, I wasn't enough for her. And nothing I could offer her was ever enough," he said bitterly.

He fell silent, his cheeks slightly red, as if he regretted talking about her. You took his hand in yours and gave him a small smile. Sinclair tried not to mention his ex-wife in front of you so as not to hurt you, but sometimes, it was stronger than him, he needed to talk about it. You didn't mind, you understood that he was still terribly scarred by what she had done to him and you appreciated knowing that he trusted you enough to open up and share what was still hurting him today.

"But after the divorce, and after an exorbitant amount of therapy, I learned to love the holidays again like I did before... her."

"At home, we didn't really have any traditions," you said to lighten the mood and distract Sinclair from his gloomy memories, "it was just my parents and I. We'd eat a simple meal and then spend the evening in front of the TV watching Christmas movies. But it was never really a big holiday in our house."

"Do you regret it ?" Sinclair asked sincerely.

You thought for a moment before shaking your head.

"Not really. When I was little, we spent Christmas at my grandmother's house with my father's whole family and it was so... hypocritical. Everyone pretended to get along and smiled at each other falsely. Of course, I was too young to understand, but once I was a teenager, those Christmas parties became heavy. When my grandmother felt too old to host us all, we started to do it just the three of us and it was fine like that... And then... as an introvert, big crowds tire me out quickly," you added with a small smile.

"I know, and I am eternally grateful to you for accompanying me to all my professional parties," Sinclair said with a smile even brighter than the garland he was diligently hanging on the wall.

"It's normal, I want to be with you. That's what good girlfriends do !"

Sinclair's smile widened even more.

"Are you glad your parents are here for New Year's ?"

"Yes, they love you," you replied, handing him a thumbtack.

Your parents had met Sinclair shortly before you moved in with him, and your mother had told you that it might have taken you a while to decide, but at least you had chosen well. Your mother never made a mistake, and you had known she was the right one. As for your father, all it took was for Sinclair to start talking to him about sea fish for him to fall under her spell.

"I'm glad to spend this Christmas in a simpler way," Sinclair said in his deep voice as he stepped down from his stepladder.

"Really? I don't want you to change your ways for me."

"Not at all. It's you and you alone that I want to be with. This will be our first Christmas and I love this simplicity."

He kissed you tenderly before deepening the kiss. He lifted you up with ease and as your legs wrapped around his hips, he led you into the bedroom to share a tender moment under the sheets filled with caresses, tender kisses and sweet words whispered in your ear.

The following days, you began to create your own traditions. You walked in your favorite park on a sunny and dry but particularly cold afternoon at Sinclair wrapped you in his wool scarf when you started to shiver despite your own scarf and your wool coat lined with silk that he had given you for your birthday.

You had also spent an entire afternoon preparing gingerbread cookies and cupcakes with delicious and colorful decorations with Christmas music in the background and in the evening, to accompany your pastries, you had prepared a hot chocolate garnished with marshmallow.

There had been Christmas movie nights of course, but also board game nights and many reading nights during which you took turns reading your favorite novels, sometimes introducing the other to an author they would never have thought of reading before.

And slowly but surely, the days had passed until December 24th. Sinclair, who had worked all month, was finally enjoying a well-deserved day off. In the early morning, you had left him to enjoy a restful sleep and had gone to prepare his favorite breakfast: fried eggs with sausages, bacon and warm toast. You had also prepared a hot chocolate that you hoped would soothe his irritated throat and you had left a bar of honey-filled chocolate, your favorite.

You woke him up with a series of kisses on the back of his neck, but without you expecting it, Sinclair turned you over with a fluid movement and you found yourself pinned to the mattress, Sinclair pinning you before his solid body.

His lips crushed gently on yours as one of his hands moved up the t-shirt - his t-shirt - that you had worn to sleep. His lips traveled down your throat and, in one movement, Sinclair removed your t-shirt to let his lips travel down your almost naked body.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered in your ear.

"Keep going," you told him as you buried your fingers in his dark blond hair.

His lips traveled down to the bottom of your stomach as his fingers played with the edge of your pajama pants. You lifted your hips slightly and he slid your pants and panties down your pale legs before throwing them to the floor.

You placed your cold hands underneath Sinclair’s shirt, making him shiver slightly but, far from turning him away, he continued to explore your body, his tongue gently caressing your clit.

“Sinclair, please,” you whispered as one of his fingers teased your entrance.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he continued to tease your clit, his eagle-beaked nose pressing just where it should have been to make you moan without giving you the release you craved.

Just as you were about to come, Sinclair stopped, chuckling softly when you let out a small frustrated groan. He then got rid of his boxers, and positioned himself at your entrance, his hard member teasing your soaking pussy, ready for him.

He gave you a tender look to make sure you were ready. A nod from you, and he was already slowly sinking into you, his slow and calculated thrusts sending shocks throughout your body.

"Faster," you said in a breath.

Sinclair didn't need to be asked twice, his movements intensified, but still with a certain reserve. His member was longer than average and even if since your first time you had shared several nights together, you remained inexperienced and you were still learning to recognize what you liked and didn't like while he guided you with patience and love.

"Sin... Sinclair," you stammered as you felt your orgasm building inside you.

"I love you, [Y/N]," Sinclair said breathlessly.

"I love you too," you replied, one of your hands gripping his hair and the other sliding down his back.

Sinclair picked up the pace a little more, his eyes closed as if he was trying to stay focused as your toes curled against the sheets and your nipples hardened with each new thrust from Sinclair.

"[Y/N], I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

Sinclair didn't have time to finish his sentence as his orgasm caused shockwaves into your vagina, triggering your own orgasm. Feeling your tight pussy contract against his cock, Sinclair let out a grunt of satisfaction, a primal grunt that made your own chest vibrate.

Sinclair kissed you one last time, then pulled out, leaving you with an empty feeling that he quickly filled by holding you close to him.

"Thanks for breakfast," Sinclair whispered, making you laugh softly.

The rest of the day passed in relative calm. You were wearing casual clothes. You had nothing planned and no one was going to disturb your little cocoon of warmth and intimacy. In the living room, the tree was shining brightly, on the TV, "Die Hard" was distracting you and the cinnamon and orange scented candles added a pleasant touch. You were wrapped up in a fluffy blanket, leaning against Sinclair's chest, who was totally absorbed in the movie, so much so that he had forgotten his bowl of popcorn.

Well sheltered, protected from the cold outside and the snow that had started to fall at the end of the morning, covering the garden and the windowsills with a white blanket, you felt good, safe in each other's arms. And for the first time in a long time, Sinclair felt serene.

After the movie, you headed to the kitchen. You had taken care of the main course: vegetarian lasagna, and Sinclair of the dessert, a surprise you knew nothing about. The smell of tomato sauce and grilled cheese perfumed the entire kitchen. Sinclair was busy preparing the table while you watched the lasagna. When you came back with the dishes, you saw Sinclair's effort to prepare a pretty festive table. He had laid out a pretty white tablecloth decorated with gold snowflakes. Candles provided an intimate atmosphere and in the background you could hear Wham!.

"I can't wait to taste your lasagna !" Sinclair exclaimed as he sat down at the table with an almost childish excitement.

You had done well to have planned two large dishes of lasagna. Sinclair had several helpings and he was already looking forward to knowing that there would be some more for the next day... or for the evening if he ever got a little hungry.

"Please, this is my first try so don't make fun of me if it's inedible," he said as he arrived with his dessert.

It was a Christmas Pudding that looked... unappealing. But you said nothing, waiting to taste it to give your opinion. If the visual aspect was not the most inviting, the taste was exquisite.

"You're too demanding of yourself, Sinclair. It's delicious," you said between bites.

Your sincerity, your happy and loving gaze, erased all his fears. With you, he didn't aim for perfection. All he wanted was to see that glow of pride, contentment and reassurance, mixed with the obvious love you had for him.

You shared a hot, foamy bath enhanced with lavender essential oil accompanied by champagne. You dozed gently against him as he told you how sparkling white wine had become champagne. He continued by telling you about Henry II and how his conquest of Gascony had allowed the introduction of viticulture in the United Kingdom while wrapping you in a thick bathrobe.

A few hours before Christmas, you settled back into the living room, both of you covered with a blanket. Sinclair was reading Emily Bronte's work out loud while you absently stroked his arm, wondering how you had managed to be so lucky, to have met such a man and for him to have let you into his life without knowing that Sinclair was asking himself the same question.

"A hot chocolate?" he asked suddenly, making you jump slightly.

You nodded and smiled gratefully. Except that when he came back, Sinclair was not only holding a steaming cup in his hand, but a small package that he handed to you with barely contained excitement.

You opened the velvet box under his watchful gaze. Inside, there was a gold mesh bracelet with several small pendants.

"Sinclair! This is too much!" you exclaimed, moved.

"Nothing is too much for you," Sinclair answered sincerely, taking the bracelet to put it on your wrist. "A book, because you were reading Sense and Sensibility the first time I had the courage to talk to you, a cup, for the milkshakes you drink every day, a car so that you have one of my passions with you, a clover so that you always have luck and a heart," he listed as he presented each pendant to you one by one.

"My heart," he added almost shyly, a rare occurrence for Sinclair.

You kissed him without hesitation and he hugged you.

"I'm a little ashamed to give you my gift now," you said with a little redness in your cheeks.

"I'm sure I'll love it !" Sinclair exclaimed excitedly.

You went to get it, hidden among your beauty products, and handed it to him a little shyly. You had spent weeks and weeks to finish it on time. It was only yesterday afternoon that you had finally managed to complete your work, albeit imperfect.

You would have liked to give Sinclair something more beautiful, but he already had all the books in the world including first editions - not that you could have given him a first edition on your meager salary as a receptionist for a private school - and you had never seen him wear jewelry.

"[Y/N], it's beautiful," Sinclair said as he unwrapped a hand-knitted scarf.

You weren't really convinced, but nothing could have made you doubt his sincerity, especially when he wrapped it around his neck without hesitation.

"I know it's not much..." you started, but he interrupted you almost immediately.

"It's perfect ! Just what I needed to keep warm this winter."

And just like I will always protect your heart, Sinclair, you thought without daring to say it out loud.

He hugged you and you settled back on the couch. Sinclair turned on the TV just in time to see the beginning of Little Women, a movie he knew you loved. He absently played with the bracelet that hung around your wrist, smiling to himself. There, in the comfort of your home, in the warm caring embrace, he felt at peace.

Nothing mattered anymore. Past failures, loneliness, Natalie and Richard, nothing. Except you. You and the calm with which you surrounded his existence, soothing the demons of his past that had haunted him for so long, reminding him again and again of the burning pain of the humiliation he had felt.

As midnight struck, announcing Christmas, and the snow fell harder, Sinclair observed your peaceful face on which the glow of a candle danced. You had finally fallen asleep, totally abandoned in his arms, in full trust. His heart swelled with love. You had become, in a short time, the center of his universe, his source of joy, peace, love.

You were his present and his future. You were his special treat.

#alan rickman #sinclair bryant x reader #sinclair Bryant #puppy sinclair #evans23 #rickmas2024 #Rickmas2024

76 notes · View notes

smilingformoney · 7 months ago

Text

After Work Activities | Sinclair/Reader

Summary: You're tired of waiting for Sinclair to finish work, so you take matters into your own hands.

AN: This is a birthday present for the wonderful @snowblossomreads who said all she wanted for her bday was thighriding with pupper ❤

Warning/content: thighriding, sexy times in the office, boss/employee relationship

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

It was a quarter past five on a Friday, and Sinclair still hadn’t come out of his office. You sat on a chair outside his closed door, huffing and puffing as colleagues streamed past you on their way home, and you were still waiting for your boyfriend to finish work, even though home time was fifteen minutes ago.

While he was always busy, being so high up in the company, you had a smaller role and sometimes had very quiet days. This had been such a day, and you’d spent most of the past few hours passing the time by fantasising about Sinclair and all the things you wanted to do to him at the weekend.

With a sigh of impatience, you stood up and let yourself into Sinclair’s office. He was bent over some files, a frown on his face as he stared intently at the reports on his desk. You knew exactly what was going on - he was so hyperfocused on his work, he probably hadn’t even looked at the clock, let alone thought about packing up to go home and spend the weekend with his girlfriend.

You cleared your throat, and Sinclair glanced up. He smiled.

“Hi, [Y/n],” he said, clearly glad to see you, but his eyes drifted back down to his reports.

You rolled your eyes.

“Clair, you know it’s quarter past five, right? Everyone else has gone home.”

“Is it?” Sinclair replied absentmindedly. He looked up at the clock and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “So it is! I had no idea. I’m nearly finished here, then we can go home.”

Well, that wouldn’t do. You were bored, you were horny, and you wanted him. You had to snap him out of his bubble.

You crossed the room and came up behind his desk to wrap your arms around him from behind.

“Pay attention to meeeeee,” you whined, and Sinclair chuckled. He straightened up and pushed his chair back a little, and you took the opportunity to jump onto his lap, straddling him in his office chair.

“Can I sit here while you finish work?” you asked with the cutest pout you could muster. “I’ll be really still and silent and I won’t disturb you, promise. I just wanna hold my puppy.”

Sinclair smiled coyly, and you knew you had him. He couldn’t resist you, especially when you called him puppy .

“Of course, my darling,” he agreed, and shifted you in his lap slightly so he could still see his papers.

You were trying your very best to be quiet and still as you’d promised, but you had a big problem. Sinclair had moved you to the side so you were in just the right position for his thigh to be pressing between your legs. You were wearing a skirt and no tights thanks to the warm weather, so you could feel the texture of his corduroy trousers pressing up against the very pussy that had been aching for him all day.

In a bid to distract yourself from your lewd thoughts, you asked Sinclair what he was working on, hoping that listening to him ramble on about something as boring as work would stop you from being so horny. But as you listened to him talk about P/E ratios as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, all you could focus on was the way his chest rumbled when he spoke, and the cute way his amber eyes lit up when he was talking about something he thought was very interesting.

“So really we need a P/E lower than twenty - hey, what are you doing?” Sinclair interrupted himself when he noticed the way you were squirming on his lap.

“Need you,” you mumbled.

Sinclair frowned, confused, then his eyebrows shot up when he clocked your meaning.

“[Y/n], are you… horny?”

“Desperately!” you whined. “I know your work’s important, Clair, but I’ve been thinking about you all day. See?”

You lifted your skirt to show him your wet panties, which were beginning to soak through to his trousers.

Sinclair gaped like a fish, his cheeks flushing red.

“Darling, you should have said, I - I can come in and finish these tomorrow —”

“No!” you protested. “I don’t want you coming into work tomorrow, I like our Saturday morning lie-ins. You finish your work, Clair. I’ll just suffer.”

You sighed dramatically as you collapsed against him, head on his shoulder, and Sinclair found himself torn. You were right, if he didn’t finish these reports now he’d have to come in tomorrow and neither of you liked it when he worked on a Saturday - but his girlfriend was on his lap begging for him, he couldn’t just leave her like this!

His leg began bouncing, as it often did when he was anxious or uncertain about something, and it just so happened to be the leg you were pressed up against.

You let out a surprised oh!, which prompted Sinclair to stop.

“Keep doing that, I liked it,” you giggled.

“Oh - erm - like this?”

He bounced his leg again, and you made another happy noise.

“Mmm, yes, Clair, keep doing that - you keep working, I’m quite happy here, thank you.”

Ever obedient, Sinclair kept bouncing his leg, which was causing the texture of his trousers to rub against your clit through your wet panties. You began wriggling back and forth on his leg to increase the friction, and you let out a whine as the pleasurable feeling shot right up into your core.

“Keep telling me about the P/E ratios,” you begged, your voice hoarse and dripping with lust.

“Do you find P/E ratios sexy, [Y/n]?” Sinclair asked, half joking but also wondering if you really did find it arousing.

“No, but your voice turns me on so much,” you told him between moans. “Keep - keep talking, Sinclair, please…”

“Okay, well, um… the problem with P/E is it doesn’t account for growth, so then you need to look at the PEG ratio…”

God, your mind was deranged. You didn’t know what PEG ratio was, but you did know that peg —> pegging, and suddenly you were thinking about bending Sinclair over his desk and taking him with a strap-on. He’d probably turn the colour of beetroot if you suggested it to him, but he might come around to it eventually. You’d learnt very early on when dating him that he’d only ever really had vanilla sex, but you were slowly introducing him to new ideas, some of which he liked and some he didn’t, but he was always willing to try.

Like what you were doing now - he’d probably never considered that you found his voice sexy no matter what he was talking about, or that you could get yourself off just by riding his thigh, but he certainly knew it now, because you were humping his thigh faster and faster, chasing that high you’d been fantasising about all day.

At some point, although in your ecstasy you couldn’t say when, your gyrating and moaning became too much for Sinclair to resist, and he tossed aside the report to worry about on Monday. Instead, he focused on you, and the way you were pleasuring yourself using just his thigh was unbelievably hot. He could feel his trousers getting tighter as his cock grew in response to your movements and your sounds, and although he’d sworn never to do this at work, that thought was tucked away quietly in the corner of his mind as he unbuckled his belt to pull his cock out, even if only to get some release from the tightness of his clothing.

You giggled happily when you saw his cock was out, and you adjusted yourself on your lap to slide down onto him, both of you groaning with relief as he slid past your soaked walls.

“It’s been a long week,” Sinclair sighed as you settled onto his lap, knees either side of his hips and his cock hilted inside you.

“You want me to make it better, baby?” you cooed.

He looked at you, his pupils blown with lust, breathing heavily as he let his walls fall down with you.

“Yes, please, darling.”

You smiled triumphantly and happily obliged, riding him as hard and fast as you could.

“Is this what you’ve been doing all day, thinking about this?” Sinclair asked between gasps. “I don’t think that’s - ah! - what I pay you for.”

“Maybe not, but you’ve got to admit it’s hot, right? Knowing while you’re sitting in here in your meetings, taking calls, reading reports, whatever - that I’m a few doors away, thinking about how I’m gonna make you cum tonight?”

Sinclair just whined in response, and you knew you had him. Fucking him good was one of the few ways to shut him up, and certainly the only one exclusive to you.

“We should do this more often… maybe I’ll schedule meetings with you in the day, just to fuck you senseless.”

Sinclair nodded eagerly. You took his hand and guided him towards your clit; ever quick on the uptake, Sinclair pressed his thumb against your sweet spot, causing you to let out a low groan of pleasure as he flicked his thumb back and forth just the way you liked it.

“Oh god, Sinclair, just like that!” you cried out. “Fuck, Sinclair, I’m gonna cum - gonna cum all over your cock… fuck, yes, yes - Clair!”

You cried out his name as you came, legs turning to jelly on his lap, and Sinclair quickly took over thrusting as he held you close, mumbling your name as he chased his own peak, and when he came, it was loud enough that you had to be grateful the office was empty or you’d have multiple HR complaints on your hands.

You stayed in his lap, cuddling up to him as you felt his cock softening inside you and the two of you came down from your highs, sticky and sweaty and still mostly in your office clothes, and as the oxytocin wore off, the reality of what you’d just done set in.

“Sinclair, do you remember when we got together and we agreed to keep it professional at work?” you asked as you sat up sleepily.

“Mmm,” he responded absentmindedly, his brain apparently still empty of words in his post-orgasm bliss.

“This doesn’t count if it’s past the end of the work day, right?”

Sinclair blinked his eyes open and looked up at you, a blissed-out smile on his face.

“I’ll have to report this to your boss,” he teased.

“Oh nooo, not Mr Bryant!”

Sinclair grinned, then pulled you back towards him for a kiss.

“You’ll get away with it,” he murmured when your lips parted. “I’m pretty sure your boss is in love with you.”

“Only pretty sure?”

“Well, actually, no. I’m certain your boss is head over heels in love with you.”

You both laughed, and when you both emerged from his office ten minutes later looking completely innocent as you giggled together like schoolchildren about what you’d just done, you thought it would be absolutely worth getting fired over fucking a coworker in the office so long as it meant you had Sinclair.

Besides, who’s going to fire you for fucking a coworker when the coworker you’re fucking is your boss, who is, in his own words, head over heels in love with you?

Sinclair sure wouldn’t.

#sinclair bryant #close my eyes #alan rickman #sinclair bryant x reader #alan rickman fanfic

147 notes · View notes

ang3l-bear · 4 months ago

Text

Beep bop art drop

#doodles #alan rickman #art #sinclair bryant

56 notes · View notes

saehapark145 · 8 months ago

Text

Sinclair deserved better.

#close my eyes #sinclair bryant #alan rickman

78 notes · View notes

starry-eyesanddaydreams · 1 year ago

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Sinclair Bryant

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Sweet and gentle. He’ll hold you as you come down from your high, running his fingers through your hair and giving you gentle kisses. Later, you’ll cuddle up against his side with his arm around your shoulder as he reads. If you ask him he’ll read out loud for you and you fall asleep to the sound of his voice.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’s not actually given it much thought for himself before. Maybe his hair? For you though, he loves your waist. His hands always find their way to your waist, his hands resting against your hip or arms wrapped around your middle.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He's a pretty clean person in that regard, he likes to come deep inside you. He dreams about having a baby with you one day too, which only makes him want to be inside you more.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’d love to see you do a strip tease for him, but he doesn’t know how to ask you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's decently experienced. But he's not had many partners before and is more on the vanilla side.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Side by side, facing each other. He likes being wrapped up with you, being able to look in your eyes and have as much skin contact as he can.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

You can make each other laugh very easily. Something like fumbling with clothes or stumbling into something while making out or trying to get undressed will start you both with a fit of the giggles.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He takes care of his personal grooming, but he's not overly concerned with it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's a very romantic person. Making love with you is something special and wonderful to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

If he's been apart from you for a while, he will. Or if you ask him to while you're in bed so you can watch him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Two words - Food kink. From kissing you at breakfast to taste the jam on your lips, to in bed licking chocolate sauce off your breasts, you are his favourite desert.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In bed, on the couch, in the shower. The most adventurous place was under a willow tree by the river.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you're just at home being comfortably domestic, like cooking dinner or curled up reading a book. It makes him so happy, and part of him was afraid he'd never be so happy, he wants to just lavish you with all the love he feels. Also, how you listen when he starts rambling about something. He knows he waffles on and is used to people tuning him out, but you actually listen, you find him interesting, and it makes him want to actually stop talking and kiss every inch of you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He'd never share you with anyone else (not that you'd want too anyway). And nothing public either.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He doesn't mind receiving, but he really likes giving.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual, all the way.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers being able to take his time and be comfortable, but you've indulged in quickies a few times. Usually in the shower before he goes to work.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's up for a bit of experimentation. His curiosity will have him trying something at least once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Usually once is enough to satisfy you both, but you can go two or three times if you're both in the mood.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You've played around with vibrators sometimes. Either he would use it on you, or you'd use it on yourself while he watched.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's not really a teaser, not deliberately anyway. When he's taking his time with kisses and touches, it can feel like teasing to you, but he's just enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not really loud. Gasps and moans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's got some sub tendencies, and he turns to putty in your hands when you get playfully commanding. One time you told him to "get on your knees and put your pretty mouth to good use" and he almost tripped over a coffee table to get to you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Like, 7in and decently thick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty medium. Like, thoughts of sex don't occupy his mind constantly, and sometimes he's happy with just kissing and holding you. But when he's in the mood he can be very eager.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Usually, it takes him a little while to fall asleep afterwards, unless you've really worn him out.

#sinclair bryant x reader #sinclair bryant #alan rickman #n s f w alphabet #Some sexy time with our favourite ray of sunshine who deserves the world

152 notes · View notes

deepperplexity · 3 months ago

Text

Prompt 9: Unwanted Solitude [D1]

Pairing: Sinclair Bryant x Fem!Reader

POV: Second, Reader

Setting: Roughly 1.5 years after the end of the movie and Sinclair has divorced the it’s-absolutely-not-cheating-fucking-one’s-brother-while-married-to-a-sweetheart-bitch but he’s now lonely and has not been as outgoing or social ever since the summer it all came to light. This Christmas, as it is December 9th, feels beyond lonely and you miss him. Natalie slander ahead btw!

Special Thank You: to @snowblossomreads for checking this fic to make sure I did an okay job on Sinclair as it's my first time writing for the man and Blossom is a certified super fan of him 🤭

A/N: I have never written for Sinclair, or been a particular fan of him as I’ve not really watched his movie more than once - I could not stand everything else about it so once was enough for me despite Alan being in it - yet still I have been asked numerous times to write for this yapping, open sweetheart so why not give it a go? << this was written BEFORE I started writing….

I’ve now written the thing and… >> Well, this is no longer a One-Shot, I’ll have to split it into two 😂 It takes quite a bit more words to write for this yapping man than any other and I’m honestly finding that I don’t mind. I’m not sure how much I’ll write for Sinclair in the future but at least two parts of Rickmas will be for him - so, yay on trying new characters! 😂👌

Tags/TW’s: Natalie SLANDER, Talk Of The Infidelity, Talk Of The Incest, Secret Pining, Long-Time Crush, Unplanned Honesty About Feelings/Thoughts, Yapping,

Word Count: 2.2k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Unwanted Solitude

He had not been the same ever since that strange party where Natalie and her brother had returned all banged up and bruised. You’d not thought to ask about it, it seemed like a private matter, but lately you hadn’t been able to avoid connecting the dots. Sinclair had chatted with you about his now ex-wife cheating on him — while it was happening and he tried to find out with who it was happening — but then after that party he never spoke a word about it again.

Actually, he spoke less and less while he seemed to withdraw and no longer find life as lovely or interesting as before. After all, he was not the sort of man who ever shut up about anything he saw or found interesting — or even just something he knew something about no matter his interest level or the relativity to any given topic currently underway. If he had information or something to share he’d simply do so.

When the divorce was announced — after everything was done and Natalie had already moved out — you’d been there for him as much as he allowed but what had actually happened was never really talked about. You understood the infidelity had been too much to get over — valid as fuck if one asked you — but there seemed to be even more to it as Sinclair had changed so much. That it suddenly was like pulling teeth to get the man to talk only worried you all the more.

He used to never ever be quiet, which you found quite endearing and since you weren’t the most talkative person yourself it was rather nice just to listen and be able to hold a conversation with less work from your side which allowed you to be comfortable in your quietness. You weren’t shy, of course, nor adverse to socialising but it was utterly nice to just listen to him. His deep voice, hearing his tone change depending on his interest level, watching him smile or move his facial features in accordance with how he felt about any given subject.

It had been nearly a month since you last saw the man, or even heard from him, which you weren’t really happy about. A sort of unwanted solitude had been bestowed on you as he was one of few you ever really talked with or enjoyed the company of. Well, truth be told you did a little more than enjoy his company, you had quite the crush on the man. It had started from the moment you met him — you had never said anything about it as the man had been married, and then the divorce happened, and now he had almost shut everyone out. The weekly gatherings, the outings, the restaurant dinners with friends and family, the fun parties he threw and the garden gatherings had all gone out the window after that summer party and the chance to confess never seemed to come.

You sighed, trying to focus back on what you were doing — reading a book in bed as it was despite the evening being young — you jolted when the phone rang in its shrill tone. Picking it up, you held it against your ear. “Hello?” “It’s overflowing!” shouted Sinclair, even if his shouting wasn’t quite like any other person’s shouting. “The blasted thing is filling my kitchen again!” You held back a smile at his frustrated, exasperated voice as you remembered the last time the dishwasher had gone bonkers and the cheating bitch had been out fucking her brother and Sinclair had called you for help with it.

“Have you unplugged it?” “Have I— Of course I have! The blasted thing keeps pumping out suds and bubbles and water and everything is covering the floor and it’s nice flooring with the honey-waxed mahogany—” “Yes, I know, I remember the last time it happened,” you said while flinging off the cover and pulling down your pyjama pants. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.” “Oh, it’s spewing water now! It’s like a fountain! They were made already back by the ancient Romans for decorative purposes, before Christ even, but I don’t want one in my blasted kitchen in this modern day!” he shouted and you could hear his sloshing footsteps through the receiver.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming, just cut the water supply! Bye,” you said and hung up before scrambling out of the rest of your comfy pyjamas to throw on the outfit you’d planned for tomorrow’s workday — it happened to be a very pretty ensemble of clothes that highlighted all your favourite features of your figure so that wasn’t too bad when rushing out to go over and save the man you were dreaming of from the broken dishwasher.

So, as you walked up toward the beautiful house now dusted with snow, your nerves got the better of you despite you never slowing down. It had been over a month and seeing him again was long overdue. However, when you opened the door all you could hear was cursing, water sloshing, and banging. This can’t be good, you thought as you hung up your coat and headed straight for the lovely kitchen with slightly outdated appliances.

“There you are!” Sinclair exclaimed as you entered the kitchen while rolling up your sleeves. “Here I am,” you replied with a smile as he looked at you with distressed puppy eyes. “Out of the way, let’s fix this thing. Again,” you continued with a pointed look and the relief was instant in his handsome features.

He helped you pull the dishwasher out before he sat atop the counter as he usually did. He was soaking wet, and you did all you could to keep your eyes at head level and not allow them to wander down the nearly see-through white shirt.

“Got the wrench?” you asked, it really wasn’t a hard thing to fix the dishwasher. Just a bolt needing tightening and the liner needing straightening but Sinclair wasn’t a handy guy. You’d been on your own for a long time so little things like that weren’t too much of a bother. You’d learned as you went through life with minimal help from others.

“Here,” he said and handed it to you. “Thanks—” you crawled behind the dishwasher “—you really should replace this. Isn’t it the third—” “Fourth,” he corrected. “—yeah, the fourth time it breaks. Get a new one.” “I will, eventually, but society today is too focused on replacing things rather than repairing them. One can’t throw away everything in a rush just because it’s a little broken. You know, it’s only in recent times society has started moving away from creating things that last and are repairable to consumers having to buy new things at a higher rate.” “Oh yeah?” You already knew this, of course, but Sinclair sounded happy talking about it.

You tightened the bolt connecting the dishwasher to the water line as he kept talking. “Yes, as a matter of fact, the light bulb is the earliest example of this. They lasted too long so a meeting was held, by the Phoebus Cartel no less, and all of a sudden the time was cut in half for how long a bulb should work. Suddenly, consumers had to purchase new bulbs at a higher rate and thus the companies made more money. Now it has infected our whole society, planned obsolescence was born out of company greed and we’re all paying for it. Terrible, really.”

You hummed and fixed the liner. “Yeah, that is terrible. That was quite evil of the cartel.” You honestly just wanted him to keep talking, it had been so long since you enjoyed a flowing conversation with him yapping away as he had done before.

You crawled back out and found Sinclair watching you with a smile. “What?” “The cartels of the world have done many bad things, creating planned obsolescence is probably one of the worst things, though. I mean, the mafia did help create best-before dates on foods but that’s more of a good thing for food safety and regulations — for the general health of the public. Alcapone wasn’t all bad, it seems as he got milk bottles to have markings of dates in such a way. Quite smart, really, to lobby for it. It is, however, not a fact fully proven but it is fully believed — for different reasons. One being his niece getting sick and the other being he would profit off it with the businesses he had a hand in.” “Alcapone? Wasn’t that around 1902?” you asked, remembering him mentioning something about the mafia man and milk bottles in another conversation a long time ago.

For a moment there was silence, then he smiled most warmly before a broad and teeth-flashing grin turned his handsome features absolutely gorgeous. “You listened? And remembered? That was years ago when we talked about Alcapone and the dairy industry.” You nodded and he kept chatting while you wiped your hands. “Now that I think of it, you always seem quite sharp and attentive when I talk. You don’t talk much but you’re always listening and I have never had to repeat the same thing twice to you. Got a good memory?” “Ha!” you laughed, hanging up the towel. “Not really, but I like listening to you.” “To me? Specifically?”

Your fingers halted just before releasing the towel, your cheeks heating and your shoulders stiffening. You hadn’t meant to let it slip out like that. You’d never told him of your interest or really showed it as it had never been a good time for it. “Well, yes…” “Huh, that’s nice to know. I am talkative, very aware of it, too. But how can I not share the many bits and facts being housed in my head when so many opportunities arise for it?” he said with a happy voice as you turned and nodded. “Yeah, exactly. And it’s interesting to know things.” “It is indeed. One can never know too many things— Ah, well, I guess one could but— Never mind.”

His shoulders slumped and the slight gloom you had seen in him ever since that damned party returned. “Well, I’d rather know and deal with things than live in false bliss. Wouldn’t you?” you asked, giving him an opportunity to pick up the conversation as you leaned against the pulled-out dishwasher, ignoring the water seeping through your socks. “Now there’s a truth if I’ve ever heard one. Quite right,” he said. “But some things one doesn’t want to know.” You simply had to know, had to make sure, so you jumped at the chance. “Like if one’s wife is fucking their brother?”

Sinclair stiffened, his face turned ashen and you knew you had been to the point and awfully brusque. But, then again, Sinclair had always seemed to be the type of person who could better deal with that than people not spitting things out when needed.

You stood still, held his gaze and waited. “You know…” “Well, I suspected, but yes, basically.” “Well, that makes things awkward.” “Not really.” “No?” he asked, arching a brow while his stiff posture remained. “No. You didn’t do anything wrong. Staying with her perhaps but I know you and you always try to work things out. I mean, if I was your wife I’d do my best to make you the happiest man alive. You’re fantastic, you know.” Better just spit it all out while we’re at it. “Not that you don’t have your bad sides and bad habits but, I mean come on, that’s no excuse for infidelity or partaking in incest. Sorry, but gross as fuck and so wrong.”

Sinclair watched you, silent for once in a pondering manner. Your stomach was in upheaval and your fingers squeezed your upper arms as you held them crossed under your chest while pretending to remain calm. “If you were my wife?” he asked. “Anyone, if anyone was your wife I think, except that bitch— Sorry, but, I never liked her at all.” “I noticed. You hid it well, though.” “I tried.” You sighed. “Not to say you were the best match for her at all times either, I mean she changed a lot about herself for you, so maybe the wife you had wasn’t at all the person she really is but that’s even worse. Fraud, basically.” His eyebrows shot up. “I never knew you held such strong opinions about her, or our relationship.” “Not my relationship, not my place to say.” You seemed happy with her until the cheating, too. I’d never wanna ruin anything that makes you happy.

Sinclair scooted off the bench and you straightened. “Push it back?” he asked and put his hands on the dishwasher, right by your hip. “Sure.” You took the other side and as you pushed the old thing back in place you couldn’t help but dread whatever he was about to say next. You had utterly exposed your own thoughts and feelings, not something you often did.

“I think we need a mop,” he sighed, looking at the water and your wet socks. “Some rags and a bucket, too,” you added and he nodded. “And perhaps a longer conversation, over tea and in dry clothes,” he continued with a strange depth to his voice and a weird but captivating look in his eyes. You merely nodded, mute at the moment while your heart thundered in your chest.

To Be Continued...

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

NEXT PART » Prompt 12: Missing Mirth [D2]

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this, darling! I'm quite pleased with my first attempt at writing for this man - not sure how much I'll be writing for him but we'll see in the future. At least one more fic, though, as this requires a second part 🥰

Got any plans for the week? ❤

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @dontwanttobeanamercanidiot @sunnylikesfrogs @dianilaws @snapesno1thighrider @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @cherihan @poetry-and-tea @evans23 @mamawolfsmith87 @snapesrn @severussimp @slyckman @liv2post @clawsthecactus @goldenglowwoman @ankhmutes @lessdepressy @snapesrn @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @daddythanatos @sanji-simp

Want to be tagged? You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you!

#rickmas2024 #rickmas #alan rickman #rickmaniac #sinclair bryant #sinclair bryant x reader #close my eyes #sinclair x reader #sinclair x you #christmas fic #natalie slander

43 notes · View notes

snowblossomreads · 3 months ago

Text

Day 1 - December Moon

Pairings: Sinclair Bryant and Miserableness (LOLOL)

Summary: In where Sinclair decides to step away from the thing that has hurt him the most.

Tag(s)/Warning(s): Mentions of an affair, angst

A/N: AHHHH IT'S RICKMAS AGAIN YALL!! WE ARE BACK FOR ALL THE ALAN FICS!🎉🎉🎉 As always thank you to the v awesome and v talented @deepperplexity for hosting and coming up with the amazing (and very difficult) prompts💖💖💘! Lets start this year off visiting our sweet pupper🐶 (even if he is quite sad)

He didn't think it would have come to an end so soon. Truthfully, when he married her, he didn't think it would ever end with how happy he was.

Especially not like this.

But just like the bitter chill of the English wind during winter, his marriage had turned cold and bitter. He should have known that after the summer affair, it wasn’t going to last.

How naive was he to think that they could just go back to what they were? Pick up the pieces of his shattered heart that she had left lying on the ground.

He waited for an apology. Anything from her that showed that she regretted what she had done. Hell, he had even asked her if it was something he had done to make her want out of their marriage. He would change, he would do it for her if she told him because he loved her. She was his wife, and he wanted to make it work.

Yet there was nothing. She went on as if nothing had happened.

At his suggestion of maybe some couples counseling, she agreed to it, yet when it actually came time for it, she was unresponsive. Dismissive of everything when the counselor tried to bring up what may have caused her to try to find someone outside of their marriage to fulfill something in her.

Yet nothing.

He remembered afterward, she had told him she would see him at home and went off back to work without a word. Not even staying to discuss the session, or even caring to go to lunch with him when he asked.

He cried in his car that day.

Their marriage was effectively over at that point. Not even two years in and it had imploded. Was he really this bad at love? It was embarrassing really. Even his playboy cousin's marriage lasted longer than his, it even ended more amicably than his was probably going to.

Yet, it took him months to decide that he had had enough. Enough of the pitiful looks that his friends would send his way when they thought he wasn't looking. Enough of the constant worrying that when she was out, she was cheating on him. Enough of the unwillingness to acknowledge what had happened, and how much pain he was in every day not having even received a single apology.

He was tired of being tired and he had enough. If she didn't want to help fix what was broken, then there was no point to this anymore.

"I need a favor," he stated plainly when the other person picked up the phone.

"A favor or a solicitor?"

He had an appointment for the next day by the end of the call.

Francis was the name of the solicitor. Older, stern looking as if he never smiled before, and extremely qualified. With how much he was charging for a consultation he better have been.

They talked for probably no more than an hour. All his questions were to the point and no unnecessary filler words were spoken. The complete opposite of Sinclair really.

"On what grounds are you attempting to file for a divorce?" "Children?" "Prenup?" "Trusts?"

The twinge of annoyance, or more like the look of when you don't want to tell someone what a daft decision they had made, that was on Francis' face when he replied there had been no prenuptial agreement signed would have been comical if it wasn't for, well….everything else.

By the time they were done, Francis had accepted his case, and told him that he would be in contact by the end of the week on how they would move forward. He was thankful for the speed, yet still in his heart, he was unsure. Logically, and he prided himself on being logical, he knew it was the right thing to do. There was no use pursuing something that couldn't be fixed.

Yet in his heart, he wanted to fix it. But what could you do if the other person didn't care enough to try and do the same? Marriage was a partnership, and you were a team. But when someone didn't want to play ball anymore, then it was over

It still hurt though.

He said good night to Frances. Thanking him for meeting on such short notice, and staying later than normal to discuss the process.

Stepping out of the office and into the crisp London air, he couldn't help but look up and notice that the sky had been awfully clear recently for December. Usually, it was dreary day in and day out but today, along with the Christmas lights that sparkled and illuminated the streets with joy, the bright moon was also shining down on them.

It was majestic. Beautiful. And he thought about rushing back to the estate just to be able to look at it from the backyard. Bask in its light as it reflected on the river that ran behind the house.

A smile, a sad one, found itself on his lips at the thought of being more excited to return home to look at the moon than to see her. Who would have thought things would have turned out like this?

Gazing at it for a bit longer, a memory, hazy at some points yet clear at others, formed in his mind. He remembered someone he loved years ago telling him that a December moon meant letting go of things that no longer served a purpose. That it ended a cycle, so that you could start anew and fresh in the new year.

He had audaciously retorted that it was a rubbish idea and that you should start anew whenever you wanted. A calendar shouldn't dictate that. Time was a man made concept considering she was used to celebrating two New Year's in one year.

She had laughed so hard at that.

A sigh left his lips, the warmth of it lingering with the chill, allowing him to see it as he glanced at the moon for a second longer.

It was in looking at its beauty and remembering what his friend had told him, did he decide, that even if it was painful, even if there would be more gossip. Even if his parents were disappointed in him after wanting him to marry for so long.

He didn't care.

It was there on the sidewalk next to his solicitor's office did Sinclair decide with finality that he had to let go of his marriage.

For himself. For his happiness. He deserved it.

Didn't he?

A/N: Ahhh poor puppy, he didn't deserve such heart break and very much deserves happiness 😭😭😭 I promise he'll be getting some!! Anyways that's a wrap! Please let me know how you liked it and how much puppy is a cutie!! See ya tomorrow for another story!

#rickmas2024 #sinclair bryant #alan rickman fanfic #alan rickman character #close my eyes #blossom writes

30 notes · View notes

neick-hitlz · 2 months ago

Text

- We miss you ❤️‍🩹

125 notes · View notes

muiitoloko · 6 months ago

Note

I saw that you've written some stuff about Lionel and Turpin being fathers (which by the way I loved reading them and am still waiting for more content), that made me wonder what Sinclair Bryant would be like if he were a father

Title: The Playful Heart

Summary: Sinclair Bryant’s childlike spirit shines as he and his son embark on imaginative adventures, bringing warmth and laughter into their home.

Pairing: Sinclair Bryant × Fem! Reader & OC

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: Thank you so much! I'm thrilled you enjoyed the Lionel and Turpin dad content! 😊 As for Sinclair Bryant being a father, oh boy, that would be something! I imagine he'd be the kind of dad who's equal parts loving and totally clueless. Like, he'd give his kids books on advanced science when they’re five, and when they cry because they don’t get it, he’d be like, "But it’s fascinating, don’t you think?" He'd probably also lose track of time reading and forget that his toddler is still sitting in their high chair... But his heart would definitely be in the right place! 😅

I might just have to explore that more—thanks for the idea! 😄

Also read on Ao3

You stood in the doorway of the living room, hands on your hips, a bemused smile tugging at your lips as you watched the two men you loved most in this life—your husband, Sinclair Bryant, and your two-year-old son, James Bryant—crawling around on all fours, completely engrossed in their game. The sight of them together, both blond heads bobbing up and down as they moved across the carpet, filled you with warmth. But there was also a fair amount of curiosity as you tried to figure out exactly what they were doing.

“What are you two playing this time?” you asked, amusement lacing your tone as you tilted your head, trying to make sense of the scene before you.

James, ever the enthusiastic little boy, looked up at you with a wide grin, his hazel eyes sparkling with excitement. “We’re dogs, Mommy!” he declared proudly, his voice bubbling with joy. “Daddy says we’re playing pretend to be dogs!”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the declaration. Before you could fully process the idea of your husband and son playing pretend dogs, you noticed Sinclair by the couch, and your confusion deepened.

“Clair?” you called out, your voice carrying a note of disbelief as you saw him crouched near the armrest, his expression entirely too serious for someone involved in such a ridiculous activity.

Before you could say anything else, Sinclair, in all his child-like exuberance, proceeded to lift his leg as if he were a dog marking his territory—on the couch. Your eyes widened in shock, and without thinking, you quickly approached him, your hands pushing against his shoulder as you urgently hissed, “Stop it, Sinclair! What on earth are you doing?”

James, who had been watching his father with rapt attention, burst into a fit of giggles, his laughter filling the room with an infectious joy. “Daddy’s being a doggy!” he squealed, clearly delighted by the absurdity of the situation.

Sinclair looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes, his blond hair slightly tousled from all the crawling around. “What?” he asked, his tone completely guileless. “Dogs do this all the time, don’t they? I was just showing James how to—”

You quickly cut him off with a mix of exasperation and affection. “Clair, sweetie, we don’t need to teach James how to pretend to pee like a dog. Especially not on the couch.”

Realization dawned on Sinclair’s face, and a sheepish grin spread across his lips. “Ah, right,” he said, his baritone voice tinged with a touch of embarrassment. “Probably not the best idea.”

James, still giggling, crawled over to you, tugging at your pant leg as he looked up with a beaming smile. “Mommy, Daddy’s funny!” he declared, his little face glowing with pure, unfiltered joy.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the situation too ridiculous not to find humor in it. You bent down to scoop James into your arms, pressing a kiss to his soft blond hair. “Yes, Daddy is very funny,” you agreed, your eyes meeting Sinclair’s with a mix of amusement and love.

Sinclair, ever the good-natured father, straightened up and ran a hand through his hair, still grinning despite his earlier misstep. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to find a different game to play,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “Maybe we could be cats instead? They don’t mark their territory quite so… noticeably.”

James clapped his hands in excitement, clearly thrilled at the prospect of a new game. “Cats! Let’s be cats, Daddy!”

You shook your head, still smiling as you watched the two of them. Despite his occasional naivety, Sinclair was a wonderful father—kind, patient, and always willing to dive headfirst into whatever imaginative world James wanted to explore. Even when his ideas went slightly off the rails, as they had today, his heart was always in the right place, and that was what mattered most.

You interrupted their game with a playful smile, stating, “Alright, my little pups—or should I say, cats—it’s time for dinner.” The mere mention of food instantly caught the attention of both Sinclair and James, their heads snapping toward you with identical expressions of eagerness. You couldn’t help but chuckle at how much alike they looked at that moment, their shared love for food shining brightly in their eyes.

“Dinner!” James exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly as he scrambled to his feet, ready to race toward the dining room.

Sinclair, ever the enthusiastic father, followed suit, his long legs easily keeping pace with his son’s hurried steps. He shot you a grin over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ll be the fastest cats to the dinner table!” he declared, his baritone voice filled with playful determination.

You shook your head, laughing softly as you followed them into the dining room. Once there, you gently lifted James into his high chair, securing him with practiced ease. Sinclair took his seat next to James, his expression one of eager anticipation as he watched you with the same child-like enthusiasm as his son.

“Smells delicious, love,” Sinclair remarked, his hazel eyes shifting from brown to green in the soft light of the dining room. His nose twitched slightly as he caught the scent of the meal you had prepared, and he offered you a warm, appreciative smile.

“Thank you, Clair,” you replied, feeling a rush of affection for your husband as you served the food. Since your maid was on a well-deserved vacation, you had taken it upon yourself to prepare dinner, and you were glad to see that your efforts were so well-received.

You placed a plate in front of Sinclair, who eagerly leaned in to take a closer look. “Oh, is this your famous shepherd’s pie?” he asked, his tone bordering on reverent as he inhaled the savory aroma.

“Indeed it is,” you confirmed with a nod, moving to serve James his own portion—cut into smaller, manageable pieces for his tiny hands. “And for you, James, I made your favorite—mini shepherd’s pie just for you.”

James’s eyes lit up at the sight of his plate, and he immediately reached for his fork, though his small hand fumbled slightly in his excitement. “Yummy!” he declared, beaming up at you. “Thank you, Mommy!”

“You’re very welcome, sweetie,” you replied, pressing a kiss to the top of his blond head before sitting down to join your two favorite boys.

As the three of you began eating, the dining room filled with the pleasant sounds of clinking utensils, satisfied hums, and, of course, Sinclair’s chatter. He regaled James with stories of dinosaurs, punctuating his words with grand gestures that had James giggling between bites of his dinner.

“And you know,” Sinclair said, leaning closer to James with a conspiratorial air, “Tyrannosaurus Rex had teeth as big as bananas! Can you imagine that? Bananas, James!”

James’s eyes went wide with wonder, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth as he stared at his father in awe. “Really, Daddy?” he asked, his voice filled with amazement. “Bananas?”

“Absolutely,” Sinclair replied with a firm nod, his own eyes twinkling with amusement. “They were big, strong, and very hungry dinosaurs. Just like us when we’re ready for dinner!”

You watched the exchange with a fond smile, your heart swelling with love for your little family. Sinclair might be a bit naive at times, but his ability to connect with James in such a genuine, playful way was one of the things you cherished most about him.

As dinner came to an end, you couldn’t help but notice how much James had eaten, his little tummy full from the meal you’d prepared. He looked up at you with drowsy eyes, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Mommy, that was so good,” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleepiness.

You smiled warmly at him. “I’m glad you liked it, darling,” you said, reaching over to gently stroke his cheek. “Now, how about we get you ready for bed?”

James nodded, his head already drooping slightly as he leaned against the side of his high chair. Sinclair, ever the doting father, was quick to scoop his son up into his arms, cradling him close as he stood from the table. “Let’s get you into your favorite pajamas, buddy,” he said softly, his voice soothing and full of love.

You followed them up the stairs to James’s room, where Sinclair gently laid him down on the bed. He then walked over to the dresser, pulling out the pair of dinosaur pajamas that James adored so much. The moment James saw the familiar green and blue pattern, his eyes lit up, and he wiggled in excitement.

“Dino jammies!” James exclaimed, holding out his arms eagerly for Sinclair to help him into them.

Sinclair chuckled as he dressed his son, carefully guiding James’s small arms and legs into the soft fabric. “That’s right, little man,” he said, buttoning up the pajamas with a smile. “The best pajamas for the best little boy.”

Once James was dressed, Sinclair lifted him into his arms again, holding him close as they played a little game of “dinosaur growls,” with Sinclair pretending to be a T-Rex while James giggled and tried to imitate the sound. The room was filled with the sounds of their laughter, a pure and joyful moment that you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt.

But as the playfulness began to wind down and you noticed James’s eyes growing heavier, you stepped in, placing a gentle hand on Sinclair’s arm. “Alright, time for bed, both of you,” you said softly, your tone laced with amusement. “James needs his rest, and so do you, Clair.”

Sinclair looked up at you with a sheepish grin, clearly reluctant to end the fun. “Just one more minute?” he asked, though he was already lowering James into his bed.

You smiled, leaning in to kiss Sinclair’s cheek. “One more minute,” you agreed, your heart full as you watched the two most important people in your life share this special moment.

Sinclair tucked James in, pulling the blankets up to his chin before leaning down to press a tender kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, little dino,” he whispered, his voice full of affection.

James’s eyes fluttered closed, a contented smile on his face as he murmured, “Goodnight, Daddy… Goodnight, Mommy…”

You stepped forward, placing a soft kiss on your son’s cheek as well. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” you whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

As you and Sinclair left the room, closing the door behind you, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Despite his occasional naivety, Sinclair was a wonderful father, and you knew that James was lucky to have a dad who loved him so fiercely.

With James now asleep, Sinclair wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you walked down the hallway together. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I think tomorrow, we should play pirates. Or maybe astronauts. What do you think?”

You laughed softly, leaning into him as you walked. “Whatever you decide, I’m sure James will love it,” you replied, knowing that Sinclair’s enthusiasm for playtime was one of the many things that made him such a great father.

As you reached your bedroom, you turned to face him, your eyes filled with love. “You’re an amazing dad, Sinclair,” you said softly, standing on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “James is so lucky to have you.”

Sinclair smiled down at you, his hazel eyes filled with warmth as he held you close. “I’m the lucky one,” he murmured, his voice deep and sincere. “I’ve got the best family in the world.”

And as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a loving embrace, you knew that there was no place you’d rather be than right here, in the arms of the man you loved, in the home you had built together, with the son who had brought so much joy into your lives.

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #sinclair bryant x reader #sinclair bryant

78 notes · View notes

jacks-valentine · 23 days ago

Text

Hi everyone! This is my first time posting one of my fanfics here on Tumblr, and I thought it would be great to share it ♡ As a fellow Rickmaniac, I thought it would be great to put it out there.

(This is dedicated to Sinclair Bryant, who is by far one of my favourite characters Alan portrayed) 🎀

I'll be posting future fanfics here and on AO3 (under the pseudonym of Jacks_valentine)

A Helping Hand

Title: A Helping Hand

Summary: After an emotionally draining day while struggling to complete the manuscript for her first novel, Olivia Lockhart finally breaks down, and confides to her partner Sinclair Bryant regarding her negative feelings. Their regular night routine takes an intimate turn as Sinclair decides to explore their sexual activities in a more erotic manner for a change…

Pairing: Sinclair Bryant x Original Character

Warning: Angst to fluff to smut

Author's Note: MINORS DNI 🔞 *This fanfic takes place in today’s day and age, as opposed to 1991, when the film was released*

Although I wrote this fanfic with an original character and in first person perspective, I can always rewrite the fanfic in Y/N too ♡

*inspired by DeepPerplexity's Rickmas 2024 challenge; consider this as my late entry ♥️

Also available on:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62372701

☼ ☾ ☼ ☽ ☼ ☾ ☼ ☽ ☼ ☾ ☼ ☽ ☼ ☾ ☼ ☽ ☼ ☾ ☼ ☽ ☼

Two Years Later

After a long day having yet to overcome my writer’s block, I figured a soothing bubble bath would melt away the day’s frustrations. As I stepped out of the shower, with a fresh towel wrapped around my chest, I settled on a plan for the rest of the evening: reading a few chapters before bed, and an early night’s sleep accompanied by cuddles from Sinclair would do the trick.

He was laying in bed, wearing his white shirt and navy blue boxers, and reading his worn-out copy of Remembrance of Things Past, Part I. Besides kissing me every chance he gets or eating, Proust is the only other person who actually shuts him up for a while. He looks up from his book as I enter our bedroom, a worried look dawning on his face. He places the bookmark to mark his spot, and hastily gets out of bed to approach me.

He’s fully aware about the kind of day I had; me not having been able to break my writer’s block for the past six months. He’s also aware of the pressure I’ve been under, trying to complete my novel with the deadline fast approaching. It was evident by how red my eyes were from crying all day, as it was the first thing he’d noticed when he returned home from work.

He knew not to ask me so many questions about my emotional breakdowns, as it tends to trigger me every time. Instead, he suggested I relax for the rest of the evening, while he took care of me. From making a delicious dinner - despite me not having much of an appetite but still encouraged me to take a few bites - to having a disastrous encounter with the dishwashing machine, he reassured me he would take care of everything.

“Are you feeling a tad bit better after your relaxing shower, my angel?” He said with a hint of concern in his voice.

“It helped a bit, thank you for asking. I figured today was not my lucky day to continue with my manuscript. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll have better luck.”

He placed his book back on the nightstand, got out of bed, and enveloped me in a warm embrace. It’s easy to forget about the glaringly obvious height difference between us, but something about the way Sinclair embraces me always fills my heart a little more than the previous one.

“I know you’ve been struggling to break your writer’s block, Libby,” he whispered in my ear. “No need to worry, my love. I’m sure tomorrow will be a better day.”

His words, accompanied by his soothing, rich voice slowly melts away my anxiety. In that moment, after fighting back the tears I fought so hard against in the bathroom, I finally got everything out. Sinclair holds me tighter as I continue to sob in his chest.

“Let it all out, my love. I’m here for you. I know how stressed you have been. Everything will be alright. I promise,” he says softly.

“How will everything be alright?” I whispered in between sobs. “I feel like an utter failure… I thought that giving up my teaching career to focus on my book would make things easier. Instead, it has been the opposite! What’s the point? What if it doesn’t work out? I would have invested all my energy and time for nothing. It would’ve all been a fucking waste. And all I’d have to do is to either return to teaching or working a bookshop once more as a failed aspiring novelist. ” The tears continue to stream down my face uncontrollably. The floodgates have burst open and they refuse to be shut.

Sinclair gently tilts my chin up to make eye contact with me. His hazelnut eyes place a gentle gaze at my tear-stricken face. With a delicate touch, he gently rubs the tears off my face with his thumb.

“Look at me. Don’t you ever say that about yourself again. You’re not a failure, Olivia Lockhart. You’ve always been hard on yourself because you’ve always been a perfectionist. You wouldn’t have come this far without it if it weren’t for the support and encouragement from myself and your closest friends; your family. Myself, Jenny, Amelia, Erica, your father, your former students: We all know what a talented writer and artist you truly are. If you hadn’t shown me your old writings, I wouldn’t have known your work needed to be shared with the rest of the world. Please don’t be hard on yourself, my love. We believe in you; I believe in you.”

As I sniffed back the tears, I managed to stop crying. Sinclair accompanied me to the bed. He continued to hold me close in his arms, while placing a compassionate kiss on my forehead.

“I have a confession to make,” Sinclair mumbled, then cleared his throat. “The day you went out for brunch with Jenny and Amelia, I had a squint at your manuscript.” I stare at him, wide-eyed and my cheeks flushed beetroot red.

“I know you don’t like it when I take a sneak peak at your writing; at the same time, I wanted to find out more about what you were writing about. You were scheduled to be out with your friends for the whole day, and I just wanted to see the progress you’ve made. Little did you know, I spent the morning and afternoon reading it, and to my surprise, it moved me to tears. You know that I don’t get emotional from reading books, or even watching films. But you should know it’s a good thing you managed to make this old man cry.”

I let out a soft chuckle at his last comment. I wanted to say something, however, I struggled to find words to respond.

“At the start, you told me how you’ve always wanted to write a novel inspired by your life,” he continued. “I honestly had no idea of the pain you have been through before. I know you’ve always had a difficult time trusting people. That’s why I have never, and will never pressure you into opening up about your past. I wanted you to tell me yourself in your own time. I know what I did was wrong, but I’m not sorry I did it. You possess a strength not a lot of people possess. Despite the difficult circumstances you have been in, you chose not to give up and let your past define the rest of your life. What you wrote is a love letter, and not just any love letter. A love letter to your younger self; reassuring her that with time, things began to look up for you. You’re still so young; yet you had no choice except to grow up early at a young age. You have such a powerful voice, and a beautiful story that urgently needs to be shared with the rest of the world. And when this book is finally published, not only will it be a critically acclaimed success, you will unknowingly create a community with readers who will find solace in your writing.”

I take a deep breath in. A single, stray tear trickles down my left cheek. “I had absolutely no idea it made an impact on you, Sinclair. And to be clear, you’re not that old, you just happen to be 15 years my senior, my darling.”

“Hmm, I’m not so sure about that, Libby. You are 24 years old, and since I am 39 years old, I’m absolutely certain that makes me old, in the manner of being qualified as a pensioner,” he said sarcastically.

I let out a loud snort, only for my face to turn red once more due to the embarrassment. Sinclair couldn’t help but laugh alongside me. His hazel eyes brighten up and his smile widens at the sight of me giggling at his statement.

“You are not a pensioner, Clair. You still have a long way to go,” I remarked. As I clear my throat, I calm down from my giggling fit.

“Did you truly mean everything you just said; you truly believe I could be considered a good writer, the kind who can one day be successful?”

“Absolutely, my dear. Not just good, be that as it may, a prolific writer. One thing you have known about me since we first met over a year ago is that I’m incapable of telling false truths to anyone,” he remarked.

“You’re well aware I specialise in forecasting business trends. My job entails that I guarantee future success for my clients’, for businesses to flourish; whether I’m right or wrong. And I, for one, can recognise a future bestselling book when I see one. As for someone who prefers reading 18th Century philosophical literature, I thoroughly enjoyed reading your manuscript.”

I took his right hand to my lips, and placed a compassionate kiss. “Thank you for your words of endearment, Sinclair. I hadn’t realised how hard I’ve been on myself until now. I imagine the saying is true, one can be their harshest critic. The reason why I’ve had a difficult time completing my manuscript is because I have been struggling to come up with a satisfactory conclusion to my book. I have a few ideas in mind; however, none of them made sense for the storyline. I’ve shared some of my ideas with my agent; however she felt none of them felt authentic to the story, and I fear she may be right.”

Sinclair’s heart skipped a beat at the simple gesture. He turned his face to me and asked, “What sort of ending did you have in mind, Libby?”

“I’m having a hard time deciding whether my book should have a bittersweet ending, or perhaps a melancholic one,” I whispered softly. He senses a hint of defeat in my tone.

“May I make a suggestion, if you would allow me, my love,” he responds enthusiastically.

“Please do, I could really use all the help I can get.”

“I think you should conclude your story with a happy ending. Just think about it: Between you and me, no one else knows your book is inspired by your own lived experiences. You have endured so much trauma, it would make sense to end it on a more positive note. In other words, I long for the protagonist to finally receive her ‘happily ever after’. Not only her, but you included,” he responded.

Without a second thought, his fingers found their way to my left inner arm. He gently pushed his fingers along my scars, and placed a compassionate kiss on them; the evidence on my arms, reminding me of the painful past I once had. And all of a sudden, he went silent; melancholy creeping up slowly. A single tear shed from his face, and guilt slowly creeped into my heart once more.

“I cannot begin to comprehend the emotional and mental affliction you’ve had to endure over the years,” he whispered softly, as his large fingers linger over my arm.

“I know I have this awful tendency of talking about how my marriage with Natalie failed from time to time. Constantly wondering what I did that led her to having an affair with her own brother, of all people. Questioning where exactly I went wrong. However, as we continue to grow closer, I realised how pathetic and inadequate my problems are in comparison to yours, darling.”

I fight back the tears pricking my eyes and take in a deep breath. As I softly wipe the tear off his face, I tilt his head gently to face me. I gaze into his beautiful hazel eyes, contemplating how I could take away the torment behind them.

“Now you listen to me carefully: There’s no need for you to compare our past experiences, Sinclair. What we both went through was unforgivable; even so they made us better people today.”

His wide-eyed gaze falls upon my eyes, taken aback by my sudden yet unanticipated assertion. “Think of it this way; if it weren’t for the individuals who fucked us up, and for us acknowledging and accepting their transgressions, we wouldn’t be here together. Right here, in this moment in time,” I whispered softly, still maintaining solid eye contact.

“What I’m trying to say is, if it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t have known we’d save each other from further heartbreak and/or ruin. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. I fell in love with you simply because you saw me for who I am. I always feel heard, seen and safe whenever I’m with you. I truly hope you feel the same way too, my love.”

At this point I couldn’t fight the tears any longer. “I love you so much, Sinclair Bryant. Even if you were the last man on this godforsaken planet who didn’t have a single penny to his name, I’ll still choose you every time. Meeting you, befriending you, and inevitably falling in love you has and will always be an honour. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I need you to remind yourself of that. Every. Day. A reminder of how I’m truly, madly, deeply in love with you. And don’t you ever fucking forget that! ”

Without a second thought, I delicately press my lips onto his. Initially he was taken by surprise, until he reciprocated. The kiss takes a passionate turn, with both of our tongues meeting, fighting for dominance. The sweet moans he makes in my mouth catapults me into a haze of euphoria.

In the heat of the moment, I find myself gently pushed back onto the soft mattress, with Sinclair following suit. He hovers above me, taking in the view. As he examines my body, our eyes connect once more.

His eyes appear to be engrossed with a look of adoration and fervent desire combined. His hands make their way over my body - still covered by the towel when I stepped out of the shower earlier. With his head nuzzled on my neck, his soft lips rain down sensual kisses, creating a trail leading to my shoulder. A tent within his boxers has formed, and his cock pushes against my opening, begging to be released from its constraints. I moan at the intimacy of it all. My hands find their way to his shirt, itching to remove his shirt. We can’t help ourselves giggling at my feeble attempt to remove his shirt, whilst I try to be as inconspicuous as I could in the heat of the moment.

As our hands battle for control over who gets to have the honour to remove the other one’s clothes first, I finally concede. With a helping hand, Sinclair removes my towel, leaving me fully exposed as I lay on the bed, trying to catch my breath.

“My God, you have no idea how heavenly you truly are, my angel,” he whispers in my ear. My cheeks turn rosy at this endearing comment. “You have been, and will always be the love of my life, Olivia Marie Lockhart.”

“Now you’re just teasing me,” I giggle softly.

“I meant it. Every word. You possess a power that persistently brings me to my knees, whenever I’m in your presence. You have no idea of the power you possess over me, my love. ”

His signature smile appears on his face, with an understanding of how I’m still getting used to the idea of receiving compliments and words of affirmations from him. Two years since we reconnected, confessed our love for each other, and finally together as a couple. Still getting used to this feeling…

His lips crash landed back onto mine once again; this time more gluttonous than the last. I continue to moan at the sensation. As our lips and bodies part once more, a sense of sadness slowly creeps in; only for it to be replaced with insatiable lust as Sinclair got up to remove his shirt.

Fucking hell, he’s beautiful! And to think Natalie insisted he needed to be on a diet during their marriage, is beyond comprehending.

As my hands roamed all over his bare chest, my eyes couldn’t help but wander towards his boxers, and how his cock was already hard and waiting to enter inside me. I couldn’t help but let out a breathless gasp. “You have no idea how much I need you right now, Sinclair…,” I said, with seduction laced in my tone.

“Don’t worry, my love. You’ll have me soon. Nevertheless, you should lie back, relax, and let me take care of you tonight,” he responded with a sultry tone. I hate to admit it, but that response alone sent tingles straight to my centre.

‘Tonight will be about you, my dear Libby. I desire to take in each and every moment with you. Right now, my main priority is to ensure you feel every bit satisfied with what I’m about to do with you, and that is to make love to you.”

He positioned himself with his face between my legs. Without a second thought, he began planting tender kisses on my thighs. It was a deliberate yet effective tool in his arsenal; his special power to get aroused even more. Just the kisses alone puts me in a haze.

His Aquiline nose gently tickles me, as he continues with his gentle kisses. Watching him from my vantage point stirs a sensation of exhilaration in me. Bit by bit, his trail of kisses etches dangerously close to my centre.

“Oh my God, Sinclair!”

I let out a soft cry at the intimate moment; he murmurs as he continues his expedition, with his face hovering mere inches away from my cunt.

“I take that as a positive response, darling,” he commented whilst flashing a wicked grin at my disheveled state.

“”You’re..uh…ahh.. bloody right about that…”

As he continues to feast on me, my hands instinctively caress his soft blonde tresses. All of a sudden, he slips two of his fingers inside me. Here’s a fun fact: Sinclair’s aware of the fact his fingers curled inside, coupled by his tongue working its magic on my clitorus simultaneously are my biggest weaknesses.

I softly moan at the intimacy of it all, causing his cheeky grin to appear once more on his face. Fearing that wouldn’t be satisfactory, all of a sudden he proceeds to perform cunnilingus on me. Taken by surprise, my moans increase in volume.

He groans in ecstasy as he continues to feast himself on my folds, devouring me as if I were a rare delicacy. Have I mentioned he's quite the expert in the field of cunnilingus?

“Ahh! Holy fuck! I don’t think I can hold on much longer, Sinclair…” I pathetically whimper as he continues to curl his fingers and eat me out simultaneously.

“Just lie back, relax, and enjoy this, my dear Libby,” he playfully interrupts. “As always, I need to be absolutely certain you can take all of me when I’m inside you once more…”

I had a sneaking suspicion Sinclair was indeed getting a kick out of this. Me, laying stark naked on the plush bed, with a first-class view that could rival any natural or historic wonder in the world: having the man I love right in-between my legs. Savouring and expressing his admiration for my most intimate parts of my body. Worshipping me in his own loving way. Why? To him, he regards me as a high priestess; a powerful deity that he believes he’s not worthy of sharing the same presence. Unfortunately for me, I struggle to retain whatever sense of self control I have left in me to keep my orgasm at bay.

“There’s no need for you to hold back from releasing yourself, darling,” Sinclair suggested in his sultry yet assuring tone. “Let it all out, my love. I want the whole world to know I’m the only man who has the ability to elicit such salacious sounds from you.”

With his commendation, I whimpered in ecstasy as I let the wave of orgasmic pleasure wash over me. Usually I prefer to have some semblance of control when it comes to me experiencing pleasure of any kind: whether it’s me enjoying an ambrosial strawberry parfait, or having succeeded in writing more than five hundred words for my manuscript on a good day. However, in this instance - and many others whilst making love to Mr. Sinclair Bryant - I just simply acquiesce all sense of control.

As the wave of indulgence draws near to a close, I finally regain my composure. Feeling satisfied with his accomplishment, Sinclair’s fingers and tongue parted ways from my centre, accompanied by a sense of isolation left in its wake.

He rises up from his previous position, his eyes locked with mine, and a seductive smirk appears on his beautiful face. To add more fuel to the burning flame that is our shared libidinousness, he brings his fingers to his lips, licking the forbidden juices he had solicited from me.

“How do I taste, my love?” I questioned him, a smirk forming across my face, and with the flames of passion gleaming in my eyes.

“Mhmm…undoubtedly heavenly, my angel. It’s no wonder why you’re my favourite sweet treat,” Sinclair ruminates, followed by his low humming of gratification.

I rose my head up from the silk pillow to plant a fervent kiss upon his rosy lips, swollen from the activity of devouring my most intimate part. Still tasting the remnants of my arousal on his lips. He slowly breaks away from my hold as he rises up from the bed, whilst retaining his loving gaze with me.

“Seeing how you’ve been so patient, and you’re just about ready to take all of me now…” he breathlessly observed. “I believe it’s about time I provide you a helping hand in relieving all the pent up stress you’ve been dealing with all week.”

Sinclair exhales in relief as he frees his penis - rock-hard, pulsating and leaking with pre-cum - from the constraints of his blue boxers. He opens the drawer of the bedside table and reaches for a condom.

“My goodness, Sinclair. You look like you’re just about to burst!”

“Oh, you have no idea my love. No fucking idea,” he replies, his baritone voice sounding composed and sultry, despite his current predicament.

Just as he’s done slipping on the condom, he proceeds to make his way back into bed. His soft lips find their way back to mine, transforming a sweet peck to a ferocious attack, with our tongues tangling each other.

I feel his aching cock pressed against my opening, not that the friction isn’t making it better for either of us.

As he positions himself in preparation, his tender gaze falls upon me once more. Just as I was going to say something cliché, he beats me to it with his impeccably-timed response: “I love you so much, Olivia Marie Lockhart. You’re perhaps sick of me saying this to you, even so it is the ineffable truth. You have been, and will always be the love of my life.”

A stray tear quietly escapes, followed by a twinkle that shines in the candlelight in my eyes. He wasted no time by wiping the tear away.

“I love you too, Sinclair Bryant,” I whispered back softly, resulting in a loud gasp escaping my lips as Sinclair’s length advances inside my walls, bit by bit.

“A-are you alright, sweetheart?” He stammers, with a sense of panic creeping in. It’s always endearing how concerned he becomes when it comes to my well-being.

“Of course, no need to worry. I’m okay, just my body’s involuntary reaction,” I reassure him. “It’s nothing to be alarmed about. Just keep going, Clair. I desperately need you at this moment.”

With a sigh of relief, Sinclair’s cock resumed sliding deeper within my walls. He let out a soft groan as he bottomed out; his cock fully sheathed in me.

He adjusts himself, making sure he and I are in the most comfortable position, followed by my legs wrapping his waist, bringing him closer. Giving me a small window of time to familiarise myself with his length and girth once more.

“Ahh! Fucking hell, Olivia! How is it possible that… every time we make love, you always feel… so delightfully… tight…?” He breathlessly mutters as he proceeds with his slow, yet hard thrusts.

“Ahh…I, uh, suppose it has something to do with the Kegel exercises I do every now and then,” I gasp in between his passionate thrusts. “Do you mind if - ahh - if you could p-p-please, uhh, pick up the pace, S-Sinclair?”

He chuckles softly against my collarbone as he slowly increases the pace. “It must be - mhmm - working, darling. I aim to - ahh - please you, always.”

I cling onto him tightly, my nails leaving track marks all over his back. His thrusts continue, with our moans, gasps and the symphonic sounds of our bodies filling the bedroom. Just the two of us, getting inextricably lost in our moment of sexual love and desire. And as he continues with his intoxicating thrusts, all the tension that has been pent up in my core begins to gradually unravel. Slowly but surely, plunging me closer over the edge.

“I take it no man has fucked you the way I have, not even your ex-boyfriend?” Sinclair growled in my ear, his pace becoming insatiably calculated and punishing.

“Ahh, not at all,” I whimper at his statement. “None of them come close to you, the same applies to Eli Michaelson. I had a short-lived dalliance with him while he was a guest lecturer during my studies at Cambridge.”

And that’s the God-honest truth. Of all my past relationships (my ex and Dr. Michaelson), none of them will ever come close to being the kind of man Sinclair Bryant is. As for Natalie, she never deserved him, especially not after what she did to break his heart. I’ll be damned to ever put him in that position.

“I-I don’t think I can hold out any much longer… Sinclair,” I moan breathlessly, as I feel the impending orgasm coming over me.

“Ahh, Libby, it - uhh - appears that neither can I,” he acquiesces; his moans and whimpers threaten to push me over the edge.

“Don’t worry darling,” he reassures me. “Just enjoy it, and let me do the work. Just - ahh- a little bit more…”

He continues increasing the pace, and our moans grow louder and louder. Through instinct, I run my hands through his hair, and gently tug at his blond locks. Knowing how it drives him mad with fervour and desire.

“I-I don’t think I can hold out much longer, Libby,” he implores, as his thrusts become a bit erratic. “How about we - ugh - ride this - ahh - wave together, huh?”

“Anything for - ahh - for you, my love.”

“Let it - ahh - all out, my angel. Ahh - oh fuck… Libby, I-I’m so close…”

Without hesitation, I finally let the orgasm wash over me, sending shockwaves of sensual gratification through every part of my body.

“Fucking hell, Sinclair!” I cry out, still possessed by the orgasmic experience. He wasted no time in chasing his own orgasm; within two or three final thrust, his cum filling the condom.

We hold each other tightly, our bodies still connected, as we both come down from our shared orgasm. “Please stay inside me a bit longer,” I whispered bashfully. “I just need you to hold me close in your embrace.”

“Anything for you, my darling,” he reassures me, holding me tight, as we lay down on our sides. Gazing at each other with tenderness, he plants a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“Do you remember the first time we made love, darling?” He murmurs in-between the kisses he’s trailing from lips, neck, and to my chest.

“Of course I do, Clair. Despite how reticent I was at first, you made the whole experience not only enjoyable for me, but it's how safe and pleasant you made me feel throughout the whole experience,” I softly replied.

“Well, I have a secret to share with you,” he confesses, as he slips out of me. “Every time we make love, I always try my best to make sure every exploit of ours is as enjoyable and memorable as the last. The truth is, I’ve never truly had an indelible experience with my ex girlfriends, Natalie included. Not until I met you two years ago.”

“I had no idea how considerate you truly are, my love. I’m profoundly honoured, Sinclair,” I commented sincerely whilst I placed a loving kiss on his Aquiline nose.

“Of course I am,” he replies, reciprocating a kiss on my nose. “I’m a man of my word. Now, please do me a favour and closer so that I can hold you tight and shower you with more love and affection.”

“And one more thing: please don’t stress about your book, Libby. Everything will work out just fine. Like I said, I’m a professional forecaster. I’m never wrong when it comes to making predictions. Especially ones with great potential for success in the long run,” he reassures me.

“You’re right, I know all my hard work will pay off very soon.”

"How about I read for us just one more chapter from Sense and Sensibility before we drift off to sleep?" He suggests as he grabs my first-edition copy he gifted me for my birthday.

"That would be wonderful."

#alan rickman #sinclair bryant #sinclair bryant x original character #alan rickman fanfic #close my eyes 1991 #I'm new to fanfic writing #hazy n dazy n confuzed #aspiring writer #aspiring author

21 notes · View notes

randomcreator-09 · 2 months ago

Text

TAG LIST

I'm starting a tag list. Ya'll be getting too many XD

>>> Back to MasterList <<<

Comment below as to which actor your into :3 Then you'll get tagged

DM me if you want to be removed or to be added

>3< ~🐧

TAGLIST (Cillian Murphy):

01 - 02 - 03 - 04 -

TAGLIST (David Thewlis):

01 -

TAGLIST (David Tennant):

01 -

TAGLIST (Alan Rickman):

01 -

49 notes · View notes

evans23 · 8 months ago

Text

Always and forever

Pairing : Sinclair x Reader OC

Summary : You’re sick and Sinclair takes care of you.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : fluffy puppy Sinclair ❤️

A/N: Hello dear 😁 Hope you will enjoy the best boyfriend a girl could wish for ! No time to proofread but don't hesitate to point out any too obvious mistake.