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adragonprinceswhore · 5 months ago

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Teaching the Unteachable

Aegon Targaryen x Wife

Summary: When all else fails, Aegon's wife employs drastic measures to teach the unteachable.

Warnings: 18+, banter, (slight) dom/sub, temperature play, wax play, dry humping, dirty talk, Aegon being horny and in love

A/N: So, apparently this smutty drabble I wrote in December turned out to be canon? Anyway, have some more 'Aegon being bad at High Valyrian', but with a fun, sexy twist ✨

Word Count: 1200

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　

“No, you need to roll your R’s. Like this: zaldrīzes”

Aegon rolls his eyes before mockingly impersonating you, “zaldrīzes”.

“No no, place the tip of your tongue by the roof of your mouth”, you explain, demonstratively opening your mouth to show your husband how he should place his tongue to achieve the sound he hadn’t yet mastered.

Aegon’s eyes light up in mischief as he regards you. “I’m afraid I do not quite understand, my love. Perhaps if you place your tongue in my mouth, you can demonstrate it for me?”

Now it is your turn to give him an unimpressed look.

“If you want the realm to view you as a true Targaryen, you need to know how to speak like one”, you chide him, eyes sternly locking with his.

“I do not give a shit about how the realm views me”, Aegon replies, tone sincere yet playful, “All that is of matter to me is how tempting my wife appears when she speaks of proper tongue placement”.

You’re sitting next to each other by the table placed a few paces from the hearth burning in your shared chambers, Aegon’s hand continuously playing with your fingers.

“You come to me sulking over the fact that your High Valyrian is no better than it was back when we were mere babes”, you sigh, “begging me to teach you”

Aegon hums as he bends your ring finger in his palm.

“Yet you do not listen to a word I say”, you scold him, pulling your hand away from his grip.

“My love, I have come to a regretful realisation”, he replies with feigned gravity weighing heavy in his voice, “I’m afraid I’ll need another tutor”

You answer his declaration by raising an impassive brow. A grin breaks out on his face.

“One that doesn’t make my cock hard as soon as she opens her mouth”.

Your eyes go wide at his crude remark, hand coming up to lightly smack him on the chest for his lewdness.

“Aegon-“

He winks before moving closer to you, restless hands coming up to squeeze your thighs over your skirts, “Call me husband”

It is hard to stay mad at him in playful times like these, when he uses every charismatic trick he knows. Yet you have to remain strong, if only on the outside.

“Why should I waste my days teaching the unteachable?”

“I am your husband. Your valzȳrys”, Aegon triumphs, hands moving up to pinch the flesh of your hips over the satin fabric you’re donning.

One of the candles adorning the wooden table by you draws its last breath, hot wax running down its side. Your finger comes up to collect some, a pleasant chill running through your body at the sudden sting of warmth.

“You can’t even say that right”, you tell him, a petty ridicule you know he won’t take to heart. Your eyes stay fixed on the wax slowly hardening on your fingertip.

“Then teach me”

His hands grab onto your sides tighter, pulling you off your chair and towards him. Instead of giving in too quickly, you resist his demand momentarily, feet steady on the floor to hinder him from pulling you onto his lap.

“Valzȳrys, I think you’re in due need of a punishment. For being such a disobedient pupil, and for talking about your tutor in such lewd ways”, you say, voice serious but eyes shining with mischief.

Aegon looks up to meet your gaze, the grin on his face growing wider as he nods.

You climb onto his lap, straddling him. Your noses almost knock together from the close proximity. He brings his hands to rest around your waist, but you grab them both and gently place them on the armrests of the chair.

“No touching”, you instruct and he nods obediently.

You’re sure you can sense the rigid proof of growing arousal where your centres meet, and your strict demeanour almost falters at the realisation. You haven’t even begun, yet your husband is desperate for you.

You fight off a victorious smile as you pick up one candle, flame still burning, and look into Aegon's lilac eyes. The hand not holding the candle moves to untie the strings at the top of the undershirt he’s wearing.

“If you fail to properly recite the words I ask you to say”, you start, the grin you’d tried to fight off causing the corners of your mouth to twitch upwards, “I get to pour wax on your chest”

Your husband’s eyes light up in intrigue, “And if I say the words correctly?”

“You’ll be awarded the satisfaction of knowing you are coherent in your native tongue”, you respond sternly. Aegon watches you expectantly.

“Wife”, you begin your unwonted examination, swirling the lit candle between your fingers.

“Ābrazyrys”, Aegon confidently replies, raising his face in pride.

You tilt the candle to the side, allowing the hot wax to pour down onto his slightly exposed chest. He gasps in surprise and you tut at his reaction.

“Atrocious pronunciation”, you chastise your husband, eyes shining with amusement. He inhales deeply, hands gripping the sides of the chair tightly.

“Again”, you demand.

“Ābrazyrys”, he breathes out, a whimper escaping his lips as you pour more wax on his chest. You are now certain that the hardness against your centre is evidence of how much he’s enjoying your teaching method, so you languidly roll your hips against his.

“Ābrazyrys”, you correct him as he grunts at the feeling of your core pressing against his. The wax on his chest had congealed, resembling pearls resting on his flustered skin.

The alluring sight causes you to momentarily lose your senses, pressing a kiss against his lips; the flustered pink tint of his cheeks too appealing. When you pull away, he follows your mouth for more, but you give him a pointed look and continue,

“Thank you, wife”

“Kirimvose, ābrazyrys”, Aegon all but moans as you pour more wax down his chest in the middle of his utterance. Having him at your mercy, torturing him with stinging pleasure, has rendered you wanton as well, causing you to roll your hips against his more forcefully to dull the ache blooming there; waiting to be attended to.

You lean forward, swiping your tongue over your husband's soft lips. He pays no heed to your instructions any longer, hands leaving the armrest to circle your body, pressing you closer to him as he devours your mouth. He pushes your body in a silent plea for you to continue rocking against him, and you comply, eager to soothe your neglected core.

The passion between you almost causes you to forget the still burning candle in your hand, but you manage to detach from his lips long enough to blow it out, fingertips once again pressing into the melted wax on the top. Before it solidifies over your skin, you grab the sides of Aegon’s chin, messily pressing the wax into his flesh as you steer his face towards yours, kissing him deeply as he hisses in stinging bliss.

Perhaps he truly needs another tutor?

One that doesn’t get her cunt wet as soon as he opens his mouth.

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Thank you for reading! 🩵

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anantaru · 9 months ago

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— comforting you on a bad day

including — scaramouche, wriothesley, alhaitham, childe x gn! reader

genre — fluff, hurt -> comfort

— scaramouche

scaramouche finds you sitting on the couch, burying your face into your hands.

easy to see, he knew you must've had a bad day or that something inconvenient must've happen to you— and unquestionably, he feels a slight function of heartache when you're suddenly pulling your head up to look at him walk towards you, gloom settling on his countenance.

scaramouche doesn't say anything at first, he doesn't want to make you overwhelmed or like you had to talk about it, it was up to you if you wanted of course. but it was interesting to see how dependable he was on your happiness, because the man detested seeing your smile fade, he'd do anything to bring it back— as soon as you're sad, unahappy or dejected, he's beginning to feel it with you.

he was angry— bend out of his usual shape because he cannot find a quick solution to this, he just doesn't want to see you covered in a gloomy mask.

however, instead of resorting back to his past methods of handling situations such as those, especially the ones that come close to his own emotions, scaramouche decides to take a seat right next to you before placing his hand on his knee, but with his palm facing up— you see, as if to invite you to take it.

hopefully you do.

"you're quiet," he inquires shortly after, tilting his head to look at you, "on any other day, you'd greet me the moment i walk through that door," he purses his lips a little, the hand on his knee quietly turning impatient, like he's scared you won't take it— or even worse, what if he's the reason you felt this way?

troubled, scaramouche proceeds to look at you, and it might not come across like it since it can be quite difficult for him to show his proper feelings— but he'd do anything for you right now, if there's something he could do in order for your smile to appear again, he'd do it without batting an eye.

his throat lets go of a dry sigh when you take his hand sweetly before resting your head against his shoulder, holding your breath as you exhale through a crumbling heave.

scaramouche's grip on you tightens, "who did this to you?" he decides to ask, his voice growing an octave louder, ultimately signalizing the despair he felt from seeing you like this, "is there someone who made you feel this way? someone i should be aware of?" scaramouche had to know if there was a third party that was involved and most importantly, responsible for this— if so, you could easily leave it to him to take care of it.

you sniffle, the grip your hand had on his palm strengthening, "no one, it's just me," you embarrassingly rub your cheek against his shoulder as he leans back into the couch so you could make yourself more comfortable, "i just had a bad day, that's all," and as badly as your eyes wanted to flutter shut, you were frightened to do so due to possible tears dousing your cheeks.

for some reason, you didn't want him to see you cry— despite the fact that you would never be judged nor laughed at by him.

the man loves you dearly, he could tell the entire world about it— draw warm and tender words on a pavement blossoming with roses. it's truly a magical feeling, turning to dizzying deeds and actions when he gets to kiss and hug you, touch and caress you.

scaramouche whispers your name softly when he slowly runs his thumb to circle around your hand, "hey, you don't have to be sad anymore," at his sentence, you curiously turn your head up as best as you can when his eyes flitter down at you.

"i mean, since i'm back from the akademiya now, we can spend all night together," you make a hum of appreciation before shifting yourself into him so you're lying as close to your boyfriend as possible, "—besides," scaramouche continues as he rests his head against yours, his mind and spirit soothing yours, "if someone is, in fact, responsible for your sadness, i might need to take care of something else first."

you chuckle, believing he's joking before opting to peck his cheek as at the same time, he pulls you in for a proper kiss— ah well, how sweet, you're smiling now, he can sense it as denseness lifts from your shoulders.

strongly invaded by a warm cradle around your whole face, scaramouche silently takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, "i told you," he sternly reminds you, whispering his words as his brows narrowed, the muscles in your face beginning to soften upon receiving his homely touch.

"i won't let anyone or anything sadden you, doesn't matter what it is, i will make sure you're being taken care of."

— wriothesley

you do not move an inch, your body hemmed in a draining blanket that fueled a negative spot in your heart, but do not be mistaken because within this cold, you can feel the warmth of wriothesley's love all the more.

you're like a sheet of glass right now, utterly still, eyes open as if gazing into a dark hole, unable to move a single muscle by how challenging this day had been for you.

as soon as he shrouds your body against his arms and pushes you into his chest, your eyes are glazed in warm liquid that cover the majority of your cheeks, slowly eating away at your skin. your boyfriend doesn't mind when you're crying in front of him, quite the reverse actually, he sees it as you trusting him so much, that you're willing to be vulnerable in front of him.

as soon as he kisses your forehead in reassurance, the force of the impact your emotions have caused on your mental state lift a little, paired with your general feelings resulting in you stumbling forward into his embrace, your hands clumsily scrambling at his jacket as you sniffle into his chest.

in your relationship you didn't need to hide your raw emotions, not only would wriothesley see through you right away, but it's, bluntly saying, pointless to do that in the first place. the man knows that in this moment in time, he needs to be there for you, and he doesn't expect you to be happy and positive all the time.

yet seeing you like this feels like losing a limb, because you're completing wriothesley in a way, you're like a puzzle piece fixing his heart— the fear of being unable to help you, give you what you need was scrambling into his body and mind, and if you ultimately sought after it, the duke would gladly destroy anything to make you happy, including himself.

"sorry, am i being too much?" you sniffle out before rubbing your eyes to get rid of the blur, honestly clueless as to why you're apologizing in the first place, "i think you must've expected our date to turn out differently," you continue, it was all you could shove past the heavy lump in your throat. you're holding yourself on a single thread, deep breathes and hefty swallows, your soft fingers slipping beneath the back of his neck.

wriothesley smiled, feeling the pull of it behind his heart, he disliked whenever you were apologizing for things you cannot control, not to mention when they were so human too.

"not at all, do not say that," he answers, holding you close, "you will never be able to be too much for me," he promises as he sighs out, one last octave teasing the following as his lips slowly move with a warm tenderness on your forehead once he places a kiss on you.

— alhaitham

alhaitham will not touch you, yes, he will sit next to you and offer a shoulder for you to lean on if you so seek it, but he will not begin to speak first nor say anything at all— wether it's questioning your current state or beginning to somehow figure it out on his own.

instead, he just listens to you.

you can talk to your boyfriend about everything, he does not care if it's pointless gossip you've overheard the other day, or you talking about this new, exciting hobby you found or like now, something that has pulled and squeezed at your heart like you're unable to breathe anymore.

he will not interrupt you, the man will make sure you can scream your heart out of your chest if it means that you feel better afterwards. he's a good listener and when you tell him everything that's on your mind, alhaitham will subconsciously ponder about possible solutions on how to help you out.

"nothing could be more human than this, don't ever feel like you have to hide this from me," he says as your tears slip beyond your control, rushing uncontrollably. alhaitham desired you beyond any significant reason, he has fallen for you and such fact will never falter, it's beyond native intelligence, beyond common sense.

although sometimes, he can trail off, it's cute, especially when he's catching himself admiring his darling, "you're so beautiful, have i told you that today?" for a second, right after you tipple over his words, your body is unable to react, and then you cannot help yourself but let go of a chuckle.

his sudden compliment came so unexpected regardless of your boyfriend being blunt by nature, "you're telling me this while i'm crying and looking like a mess?" your lips curve into a flustered smile, cutting through your initial weary facade. the chilling waves that flung into your body surely caused havoc, but it was almost frightening by how fast alhaitham could change your mood.

"I thought you should know," he ponders, softly pushing your head up so you could look at him, "you're always beautiful to me, that has nothing to do with how you're feeling,"

shortly after, you lean into a tender kiss, chasing the love he was always providing you with— this time, simply feeling him once wasn't enough, so you kiss him again, again and again, leaving him with enlarged pupils as he pulls gently away.

— childe

childe will find things to make you feel better, heavy emphasized on the find.

it's something he has to get done and despite the fact that he might not seem like it, he feels it with you, everything, it impact him, regardless if you're being drained that day, saddened or if it even has anything to do with him in the first place.

naturally, he'd also pamper you so you're feeling more comfortable, but such wasn't necessarily a new in your relationship, he clearly has a habit of spoiling you to bits— the celestial bodies decorating the world, yes, ajax would reach for the stars in the sky if you so wished for them.

you're aware that he's mostly absent due to his work requiring him for the most times, but he'd make sure to be by your side the moment he realizes you're genuinely not feeling well. childe is quite adapt of finding a way to make what he wants to achieve possible so do not worry yourself, he will never let you down.

for all that, do not get greatly surprised when he's starting to throw around unfunny jokes his brother might've told him or tell you a story about how hilariously weird his fellow colleagues can be, not to mention scary which was rib-tickling in its own manner.

the man will get nervous too and it's cute, it's his first serious relationship and he doesn't want to do anything wrong. also, important side note but it goes without saying that him being this adorable will already lift your mood a bit.

he's also a little overwhelmed by the situation and is scared to make it somehow worse for you. little does he realize that you're so thankful to him, in fact, you do not need him to magically solve the problems for you, your boyfriend just being here and listening was enough to find comfort.

it's all the more charming, he is, how he smiles from head to toe when you're searching his snug, pleasant hugs when he lets you sob into his chest.

"you're so comfy," you mumble into his jacket before rubbing your cheek over the place where you could faintly notice his fastened heart thumping beneath his ribcage.

your message makes him immediately blush, scarlet red catching his skin and setting it ablaze as he averts his gaze a little to conceal it.

childe doesn't necessarily think he's good at comforting somebody, but he shows you another smile when you gaze up at him, his grin close-lipped but bright as a bared tooth, "i'm sorry, i know i have neglected you recently," you recognize the weary weight of his words, how they're crumpling off his face, "my work, ugh, i know i should've been there for you more," he groans, "you don't deserve to be alone all the time,"

"it's not your fault," you draw a shaky gasp, panicked arms flying to his neck to wrap around him, "you're here now, aren't you?" your eyes glow, flickering with an impression that he cannot forget, it's boiling over until reaching the surface of your complete countenance, "can you stay for the night? only if it's possible," you reluctantly continue.

it's important to note that you really do not fault him, childe was not only providing for his family, but he wanted to give you a life where you do not have to worry about the material aspect of living.

ajax slides his large palm soothingly along the shiver of pain wracking your frame as he listlessly rests his head against yours, "i'll stay as long as you want me to, until you're feeling better, until you can smile again."

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inkdrinkerworld · 8 months ago

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post!prison Spencer realizing you’re not always sunshiny and happy when one day he spots you crying in the hall before wiping your eyes and walking into the bullpen with your usual megawatt smile like you hadn’t been balling your eyes out five minutes before

It’s a call with your brother that really gets you started.

Spencer watches you take the phone call that starts off pleasant, you’re all smiles and then you frown, dark and full of an anger Spencer hasn’t ever seen on you.

He knows humans are capable of all emotional spectrums but it’s so foreign on your face and in your body language that he’s shocked a little still.

You walk to a secluded part of the office, hushed, rushed, heated words that Spencer feels horrible for straining his ear to listen to but it’s a strange sight.

He’s never seen you like this.

“How is that my fault? I can’t drop everything and take a plane over there every time shit hits the fan. They’re big kids now.”

What’s worse is your voice cracks and he wants desperately to rush to you, comfort you but he forces himself to stay where he is.

He strains his ear and hears you whisper,

“I’m not doing this again. I can’t be that person anymore. They’re 20, I can’t move back home just to baby them again. I’m not going to be walked all over by them anymore.”

You’re not together, you’re just friends- not super close but closer than anyone else on the team. Spencer feels like he should be comforting you when he moves to the kitchen and watches the first tear tumble down your cheek.

“Hey have you seen, Y/N?” Emily asks and Spencer turns his body to block you from view.

“She went to the bathroom, do we have a case?” He asks, stirring a pound of sugar into his coffee.

“Yeah, when she comes out tell her meet us at the jet.” She hands off a file to him and Spencer glances through the pages quickly.

Spencer watches you compose yourself, swiping at your face, fixing your hair and rolling your shoulders back.

Then he watches almost sadly, as you plaster a smile back on your face.

“Hey, Spence. Where’s everybody?” You open the fridge like you usually do and reach for the canister of whipped cream you keep tucked away.

��We have a case,” Spencer watches you shake it and spray some into your palm, connecting the dots over the many times he’s seen you do that in the last couple of months.

You’d always said it was just a, ‘pick me up’ and Spencer hadn’t thought twice about. You all have little things you do to keep you going in the job, but he realises now it’s less to do with work and more to do with your upset.

“Oh shit,” you spray another heap of cream in your palm. “I’ll get my go bag, can you fill me in while we walk, Spence?” You’re already turning to your desk, fiddling about the last draw for your go bag.

Your eyes are still a little red, and he watches you switch your contacts for glasses as soon as you get hold of the bag. “They burn a little right now,” you supply when you catch him looking and he nods like he doesn’t know the truth.

“Alright, let’s go,” he opens the case file Emily handed to him and starts, “So the unsub seems to be a woman hater? I’m not sure how no one figured him out before this is his sixth victim.”

You frown as you tuck your go-bag over your shoulder, “And the geography is all the same? No crossing state lines?”

Spencer admires how easily you slip back into work mode, but as soon as the case is over he needs to find a way to have you talk to him.

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dollfacefantasy · 8 months ago

Text

Kiss It Better

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!bunny-hybrid!reader

summary: on a day planned to be just for just you and leon, he gets called into work. it dredges up some old memories, and upon returning home, he wants to make it better by taking extra care of his baby bunny.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, cockwarming, daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, hurt/comfort, reader copes with her past at the shelter

word count: 6.1k

a/n: yay leon and his baby bunny finally return. i hope this lives up to the first part lol which can be found here. i have another part planned as well if people are interested. as always reblogs and comments mean the world <3

“I could never say no to my sweet baby bunny.”

A statement Leon had said off-hand in the heat of the moment. Something he’d told you as a comfort, a way of warming you up for your first intimate moments together. He hadn’t put much thought into it before it rolled out of his mouth.

But damn, if only he’d known how true it would prove to be.

The words were ringing through his head right now as you dragged him through the mall on another Saturday he dedicated entirely to spending time with you. He’d already bought you a fair amount of stuff from cute frilly socks to pretty pink panties to some tiny t-shirts he knew he’d regret as soon as you used one to get your way. And now you were heading towards a shop tucked away in the farthest corner of the shopping center. His only hope was that the location meant it was the end of the line, the last stop on your trip.

From what he could see, it sold stuffed animals amongst other items that could clutter up his house. Luckily, the small plush toys seemed to be the only things drawing your attention. Your eyes scanned the rows before fixating on a specific one that sat on the bottom shelf. You crouched down to get and pulled it to your chest, standing up again so Leon could see your selection. His eyes soften as he notices your little cottontail twitching with excitement.

He can’t help the smile that spreads on his face at the sight. His sweet girl standing there with a small plush cow in her arms. The tufts of black and white fur jutted out the top of its head near a set of foamy horns. You looked up at him with puppy eyes, which he’d come to view as unfair since he’d chosen a bunny for a reason. But they worked on him all the same.

“Baby-” he starts, but you interject, predicting his argument.

“I don’t have a cow yet,” you plead, “It’s just one more.”

“Yeah, this one is just one more. And so is the next one, and the one after that, and the one after fifty more of these things,” he teases.

“C’mon, please,” you beg, stepping close to him to lean against his chest.

“Is this your way of telling me you want your own bed again? You’re just gonna fill the one we share with more and more of these until there’s no room and I’m pushed to the floor,” he jokes.

“No,” you deny, “Plus I put them away at night anyways.”

“Most of them,” he corrects.

“Cause I need my bear to sleep,” you say with a little pout.

He swears he almost swoons. You’re too fucking cute. He knows he’s spoiled you rotten. You’re treated better than the average hybrid to put it lightly, but he was past the point of paying that any mind. That shelter he’d picked you up from never let you have stuff like this. In his mind, he was righting their wrongs, burying those sad memories with as much cute shit as he could afford. And if other people didn’t approve, if they thought he should keep you silent and on a leash, he couldn’t care less.

Looking down at you now, playfully pleading with him for that stuffed animal, he knew he could never treat you like that. He rolls his eyes and messes with your hair, gently scratching the base of your floppy ears.

“Fine,” he says, “One more.”

You all but cheer with your excitement, bouncing up to give him a fat kiss on the cheek. He takes the stuffie from you and walks to the register to pay for it. You walk, lacing your hand with his and swinging your arms back and forth.

He looks over at you and instantly remembers why he always ends up giving in. Why he can never say no. Now that you had opened up, he couldn’t get enough of you. He’d loved you before that day a few months ago, the day when he’d caught you during your attempt at self-soothing with his pillow between your legs. But since that day, a whole new layer of you had been revealed to him. The sweet and shy bunny he’d met at the shelter touched his heart first, but the affectionate and needy girl you’d allowed him to see owned it now.

He pays for your little cow, adding another bag to the collection hanging from his arm, and leads you out of the store. You tuck yourself under his arm, clinging to his abdomen.

“Thank you, daddy,” you say quietly and press a kiss to his chest.

His heart throbs at the sound of the sweet name you’d attributed to him months ago. He has to remind himself that you’re in public before any other part of his body reacts.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he says and strokes one of your ears with his free hand.

Once the pair of you reach his car, he loads your stuff in before giving you a pat on the ass as you climb in the front seat. You’re all smiles, and he couldn’t feel better. He gets in the driver’s seat and switches the car on. Your hand goes for the controls to the music right away. He always let you pick when you were with him. Each song acted as a little glimpse into you and what you liked.

As you’re selecting one you like, he feels a buzz in his pocket. He fishes his phone out as you share some of the stuff you like about the song you put on. You then start asking him where you’re going next, but the plans slowly begin to unravel as he reads the message displayed over the picture of you he had as his screensaver.

“Shit…” he mutters to himself before looking back up at you. Your ears droop in tandem with his face dropping. “Baby, I gotta drop you back at the house. I gotta take care of some stuff at work for a bit.”

He sees the disappointment in your eyes, and it kills him.

“But… I thought you took the day off,” you say. Your mood rapidly depletes. It wasn’t his fault, but it wasn’t fair. This was supposed to be a day where he was all yours. Twenty four hours where the D.S.O. laid no claim on him.

“I did, but I’ve told you how it is sometimes. I can’t get out of it some days,” he says.

“But you already stayed late all week. What else do they even need you for?” you ask. It may be irrational, but you can’t help how your mind floods with a sense of abandonment in the moment. You knew Leon would never do that, but the years you spent in that shelter had done a good job of convincing you otherwise.

“Just some formality stuff. I’ll be as quick as I can. You know I wouldn’t choose working over being with you,” he says.

Now he’s the one pleading. Your ears are flat on your head, and your eyes are fixed on your seat below you. He knows you feel wounded now even though you’re holding it in.

“If you’re mad it’s ok,” he whispers and reaches out to stroke your jawline, “You can be upset, honey. I won’t get mad at you. I know you were excited about today.”

As much as you had opened up, he could tell you still shied away from showing too much negative emotion. He knew you’d gone through some punishments at the shelter you were still too scared to talk about.

“It’s not your fault,” you say and shrug, dejection all over your features.

He sighs and starts the car, pulling out of the parking space, and heading towards the house. “I know it’s not, but you can still let out some frustration. I wouldn't think you’re ungrateful if that’s what you’re worried about. You wouldn’t get in trouble,” he says, keeping his tone gentle.

You bring your feet up onto the seat and retreat into yourself a bit. With a simple shake of your head, he knows the topic has closed.

He lets out a quiet sigh as he drives down the road. It drips with the frustration that he’s letting you down. He can’t reach inside your head and pull out the negative effects of the shelter. He can’t tell the D.S.O. to fuck off and let him spend as many hours as he wants with his precious girl. All he can do is pull into the driveway and watch you get out of the car, your posture slightly slumped with the encroaching feelings of loneliness. You pull your shopping bags from the car. At least you give him a little parting kiss so he doesn’t feel completely emaciated.

He watches your sad trudge into the house before taking the car back out of the driveway and down the same road in the opposite direction.

Inside the house, the silence dominates you. You pad down the hallway to the bedroom that had once belonged solely to Leon. Dropping the bags of clothes near the door, you then hop on the bed and toss your new little cow up near your other pillows. Your eyes linger on the ceiling. You’d become familiar with the insignificant bumps and ridges above that provided a distraction on sleepless nights. Nights where you just needed to tune everything out and count them to avoid being haunted by the past.

Before Leon had taken you in, you always imagined you’d enjoy the quiet of a real home. The shelter always echoed with loud cries of sorrow, screams of anger, and whimpers of hopelessness. You’d lie on the thin mattress tucked in the corner of your area and try to dream of the days your bed would be lush with pillows and blankets, decorated how you liked and surrounded by the peace of you and whoever had chosen to love you.

And now those days have come. They’re real. You didn’t have to deal with the constant atmosphere of despair or the looming threat of punishment for acting like a human being. So why was it so easy for you to tumble into sadness like this? Why did the quiet no longer mean sanctuary but rather the absence of the person you loved most in this world? You could never work it out. It was too hard. Any time you tried you ended up spiraling into even more self loathing. Because there’s nothing to be sad about anymore. There’s no reason to feel like this. That stuff shouldn’t bother you; it’s nothing more than a collection of ugly memories at this point. Why couldn’t you be grateful for the life Leon had given you? The man gave you just about anything under the sun you could want, so why did one minor inconvenience have to throw you off this badly?

The bags by the door didn’t make you smile anymore. They only brought guilt. You didn’t deserve them. All the gifts and love he lavished upon you would never make you into what you were supposed to be.

Your thoughts consume you for longer than you notice. The sky darkens outside, tinting the room with a violet haze. You lie on the bed under your self-made cloud of gloom for hours, not noticing how much time has passed until you hear the garage door closing and footsteps getting closer. You glance at the bedroom door as it opens silently.

Of course, it’s Leon. His eyes fill with concern at the sight of you. He’d seen you down before but never so deflated. His face now resembles how he looked when he caught you humping his pillow all those months ago, but it’s also distinctly different. He still has curiosity in his gaze, not able to pin down what exactly is the reason for the present circumstances. Though the reaction this time is more worried than surprised. Your present state doesn’t shock him; instead he feels a protective instinct flare within him.

He approaches the bed and sits next to your limp form. His palm rubs up and down your arm slowly. “Hey baby,” he says softly, “You doing ok?”

You look up at him and nod. Sitting up, you scoot to him and align your side with his. Your legs extend out in the opposite direction of him as your head rests on the curve of his shoulder. “I just missed you,” you say softly, your arms encircling the circumference of his bicep.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and starts rubbing your back. “You do anything fun while I was gone?” he asks.

“Nothing special,” you respond, “Think shopping made me sleepy.”

You speak with a soft tone of voice, attempting to further the idea that this was merely a bout of tiredness. His eyebrows rise with suspicion. As cute as you look with your cheek squished against his shoulder, he pulls your body around and seats you on his lap. His fingers sweep down your jaw and guide you to look up at him.

“You sure you’re just tired? Nothing else? We weren’t out for that long. I just wanna make sure you’re alright,” he says, trying to show you with how he speaks that it’s not an accusation.

But you remain firm in your convictions and nod. “Mhm, I’m already feeling better. I just needed a little rest,” you assure him and tuck your face against his neck.

It’s not a lie. You were feeling better now that he had returned, each passing moment had little improvement for your mood. But he knew something still wasn’t right. He strokes down the silky expanse of your ears while his other hand massages the base of your tail.

“Well, I missed you too, y’know? Couldn’t stop thinking about my sweet baby bunny the whole time I was at work,” he says.

You were already melting against his chest from the physical contact, but now a smile graces your features. “Really?” you ask, looking up at him again.

“Really,” he confirms, “I felt pretty bad leaving you all alone when it was supposed to be our day.”

“Oh, you don’t have to fe-” you start before he interrupts.

“No, I told you the day was gonna be for us. So how about this?” he asks, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your chin, “How about instead we make it a night for us? I’ll give you a nice bath, put you in some of the new stuff I got you.”

He kisses your head again, then your temple, then your cheek.

“Maybe daddy’ll even give you a special treat before you fall asleep,” he murmurs before kissing your lips.

Taking in a deep breath, you nod. You’re helpless when he treats you like this, disagreeing doesn’t even seem like an option.

“Will you get in the bath with me though?” you ask.

He grins and rises off the bed with you in his arms. “Of course. Anything for my baby bunny.”

The two of you head to the attached bathroom. He sits you on the counter while drawing the bath. Steam drifts up into the hair from the hot water pooling in the tub. He lights some candles, dims the lights, and lets you pick out the scent of bubbles you want.

You sit on the laminate countertop, lazily swinging your dangling legs as you watch him. He checks the temperature of the water multiple times and stares at the clear liquid coming from the bottle of bubble bath. Once that’s taken care of, it’s your turn. He slips your shirt over your head and your bottoms down your legs like you’re the most delicate thing on the face of the earth. Kisses land on your jaw as he pulls your panties off too and drops them in the hamper with the other articles of clothing. So meticulous about everything, at least when it came to you.

He scoops you up again and brings you to the bath, setting you down in the water before twisting the faucet off and discarding his own clothing. Then he climbs in behind you, slotting his body between yours and the cool marble.

“C’mere, baby. Nice and close to daddy,” he murmurs as he pulls you onto his thighs.

You sink into his chest. The feeling of his skin against yours is almost enough to make it all better, enough to make you forget about earlier. You nuzzle into his muscular front, making him smile. He strokes your face and takes care to avoid getting your ears wet.

Both baths and showers used to make you anxious, and he knew that. One of the details you had shared with him about your life at the shelter was having to share the space with all the other hybrids, including the bathrooms. You’d told him how much you hated it, and he could only imagine. He tried extra hard now to make both as comfortable for you as possible, pampering you like an absolute princess.

Thinking about all this, him going above and beyond for you like he always did, makes you turn more into his body. Your arms loop around him, and you place your head beside his, obscuring your downtrodden expression from his vision. Your chin rests on his shoulder as he returns the embrace and holds you closer.

“My perfect girl,” he whispers.

The words are complimentary, but right now, the second in particular stings like a blade. You nestle your face against the warmth of his throat and tighten your limbs around him, trying to drown out the bad swirling inside of you with the feeling of his flesh on yours.

He knows you’re still acting a little unusual. Maybe your heat was right around the corner and it had you feeling extra needy. Maybe you were just still a bit sad about missing out on a day with him. He wasn’t totally sure, but he just wanted to make it better. And the way you were starting to press against him, breasts flush against his chest and the warmth of your thighs pressing against either side of him had his cock starting to stiffen up.

“Sweet thing… you wanna feel a little closer, hm?” he murmurs, fingertips rubbing tiny circles into the small of your back.

You weakly nod.

“Is this close enough? Or should daddy get even closer? I think being inside would feel even better,” he whispers.

You nod again, this time with more motivation. “Please daddy,” you mumble.

“Of course. All you had to do was ask,” he says. He lazily strokes himself a few times beneath the water, getting himself a little harder before he lifts you slightly and slides in.

A soft moan drifts out of you as he lowers you again. You put your head back down on him and sit with the comfort of being full.

“There’s my baby bunny,” he coos in a low voice.

He also takes in the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in. The feeling of your warm, wet embrace wrapped around him.

The two of you sit quietly for a while more, the bathroom silent except for the occasional trickle of water when one of you shifts. Flickering lights from the candles paint the walls in dim orange as the scent of the bubble bath takes over the air completely.

But to Leon’s dismay, your mood doesn’t seem to be brightening up. You don’t start squirming with the need to ride him like you normally would. You don’t get extra sappy with him and start going for more kisses or longing looks.

He reaches for the wash cloth resting on the brim of the tub and soaks it in the water. He squirts some soap onto it and gently rubs it up and down your back. He can feel your muscles losing some of their tension, but you’re still withdrawn. He continues tenderly cleaning you off while you sit with him inside you.

After a few moments more, not knowing becomes unbearable. “Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“Nothing, I’m-”

“You’re not just sleepy,” he interjects. His voice is still loving despite the confrontational manner of the conversation.

He gently guides you away from his body so you’re kneeling straight up in the bath. His eyes scan you over, trying to make this easier by figuring out what it is, but he can’t. He brings the wash cloth up to your chest and starts brushing it against your chest, between your breasts, and down your belly.

“I know something’s wrong, and I know you’re scared of talking about things like this. But I would honestly prefer you telling me what it is, even if it comes out harsh, to sitting here and trying to figure out what’s bothering you,” he says as he rubs your skin with the soft cloth.

“I don’t know,” you say timidly.

“I’m only asking because I care. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is. Seeing you hurting hurts me too, baby,” he responds.

“I’m not lying. I don’t know,” you say again, some defensiveness seeping into your words, “I don’t know why I feel bad. I don’t know how to tell you what’s wrong. I just- I felt sad earlier, and I know I shouldn’t feel sad which makes me more sad.”

He sees the panic rising in your eyes and hears your words becoming more rushed. In an effort to keep the situation controlled, he pulls you back to his chest, hushing your worries by engulfing you with his arms. You reciprocate the motion, eager to retreat from your emotions. He takes a pause to grapple with what you had just said.

“What do you mean you shouldn’t feel sad?” he asks.

“Because… because there’s no reason to be sad,” you answer.

“If you’re sad, then there’s a reason to be sad,” he says and looks down at you with growing concern.

You shake your head. “No, there isn’t,” you whimper. You start to feel tears collecting in your eyes while your throat feels like it’s constricting. “You make everything so perfect for me, and I can’t do the same for you.”

He’s beyond confused at this point. He feels a couple tears fall against his neck, and all he can do is hold you tighter.

“Woah, woah, baby, c’mon,” he says, trying to prevent more tears, “What are you talking about? Perfect? I don’t expect you to be perfect.”

“Yeah, exactly because you are perfect. You never push me. You never ask for too much. You never do anything bad, and I still get like this,” you cry.

“... Is that a bad thing?” he asks, still lost.

“No, but I just wanna be perfect for you too. You work so hard all the time at your job, and then you come home and you have to deal with me,” you weep and cling onto him more, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” he says in a hushed voice, “You’re exactly what I want. I couldn’t ask for anything more than you.”

“Yes, you could. You deserve someone who can give you what you give. You deserve someone who’s not fucked up by stupid stuff from the past,” you cry, “I’ll never be a perfect pet, and I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

His chest aches and tightens up when he hears that. He starts to pull out, figuring this wasn’t the time to be balls deep inside you, but you stay locked around him so he stays put.

“Sweetheart, you’re not… I don’t see you as…” he starts, being careful with his words.

You continue your quiet crying against him.

“You’re more than a pet to me,” he decides, soft but firm, “You don’t disappoint me ever. You can’t disappoint me because I don’t have expectations of what you should be. You’re not some dumb animal that I want to mold into a fantasy. I know you were treated like that before, but that’s not what you are to me. You’re my baby bunny. My little love.”

More tears spill out onto him. The bathwater ripples with the shaking of your body.

“You’re not fucked up,” he whispers, “That stuff you went through at the shelter, that’s a big deal. I don’t expect you to just be able to move on from that like it’s normal. You need some extra care, and I’ve known that since the first day you came home with me. It’s not a bad thing. It’s something I love about you. I’m not dealing with you when we do things like this. You’re not a burden to me.”

“Promise?” is all you can choke out right now.

“I promise, baby. Cross my heart and hope to die,” he murmurs and kisses your temple. He sighs and squeezes his arms around you before saying a little more amidst the quiet of the bathroom. “I’m not gonna pretend I know exactly how you feel. But I know how it is to get shoved into a life you didn’t ask for. To get expectations put on you that you can never meet. I don’t want you to feel like that with me. I love you, and I’m gonna love you whether you’re a perfect ‘pet’ or not. That’s not what’s important to me.”

You know he’s being genuine. You hold yourself closer and press a few faint kisses to his throat. “I’m sorry,” you cry.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he whispers, “Just try and calm down for me, sweet girl. Take some deep breaths.”

You do as he says and work towards settling down. Your breathing slows, and the tears slowly stop. He grabs another washcloth and wets it. He guides your head up and gives you a small kiss before dabbing at your cheeks and cleaning your face of any remaining sadness. Your eyes flutter shut and relax under the loving care of his movements. He tends to your hair next, caring for it how you need.

Once your bath is done, he pulls out of you. You give him a little pout, bringing a smirk to his face.

“Patience, little one,” he teases before standing up with you in his arms.

He taps the stopper with his foot, draining the bathtub as he steps out. He sets you down so he can wrap a towel around his waist and then bundles you up in a big fluffy one. He dries you off and brings you in front of the mirror. He applies some product to your ears, something he’d gotten to keep them from drying out. You can’t help the smile on your face as his fingers gently rub down your long, fluffy ears. You can feel his love through his motions. He follows it with your hair routine, going through each step with precision and making sure to do it just how you like.

Before he takes you to the bedroom, his arms curl around your waist and he slots his head next to yours, gazing into your eyes through the reflective glass of the mirror.

“My baby bunny,” is all he says before pulling you out to the bed and laying you down on it.

He gets some of your lotion, a scent he’d become so familiar with. He rubs it all up and down your legs, taking time to lightly massage as he works. His hands glide all over your body, over your hips, up your sides, across your chest, and down your arms to your hands. Every inch of you was going to feel soft as silk if he could help it. The soft sighs of pleasure that come from you are enough to keep him thoroughly invested in the process.

When he’s finished, he plants a kiss on your lips and gets up. He heads to the door where you had dropped the shopping bags from earlier. He’s rifling through them, pulling out some new items you could wear to bed. He fishes out a cute t-shirt and some smooth panties when he hears your voice call to him.

“Wait, daddy?” you say.

“Yeah, baby?” he responds immediately, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Come back,” you request.

He looks at you curiously but stands up and walks back to the edge of the bed where you were sitting. Looking down at you lovingly, he holds your jaw and squeezes your cheeks. “What is it?”

“I don’t wanna get dressed yet… Maybe I could still have my treat… if you want to,” you initiate timidly while grabbing the hem of his towel.

He smiles and breathes out a laugh. “Yeah? You’re feeling better and need daddy again?” he asks teasingly, letting you tug the towel loose. It crumples to the floor behind his legs and unveils his cock to you.

“Always need my daddy,” you say, looking up at him.

“Don’t I know it,” he teases.

He pushes you back on the bed and crawls on top of you. Leaning down, he kisses and nips at your neck. His hands squeeze your hips. You nuzzle the side of his head affectionately. Out of the corner of your eye you see him swat away the plush cow that sat nearby on a pillow from when you’d thrown it earlier.

“Hey,” you say, feigning protest, “That’s mean. He didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sure he’ll forgive me,” he says with a grin.

Your body is already exposed from the bath, and he takes advantage. He kisses down along your collarbone towards the valley of your breasts. His palms cup them at the sides as his lips coast over them. He always took his time with you when he could. He’d get to rush when you were in heat and soaked just from being in the room with him.

Your fingers lace through the strands of his hair as you draw in a sharp breath. He laves at your nipples and the sensitive flesh of your breasts. His tongue caresses along the curves slowly, building your anticipation and causing your tummy to start fluttering.

His hand slides down your body, dipping between your legs to seek out your center. His fingers brush against the velvet folds and feel how they’re beginning to grow slick with your arousal. He swirls around your clit before pressing down on the sensitive nub and rubbing. Your lips part as you mewl.

“Is daddy already making you feel good, baby?” he coos.

You nod as your face starts to morph into that pouty look you get when you’re worked up. He loves every second of it and continues flicking his middle finger against the bud.

“You gonna let me show you how perfect you are, hm?” he asks.

You simply whine in response and tilt your head back against the pillows.

“That’s my girl. So fuckin’ pretty when you get like this,” he says.

He swipes his fingers up and down some more until he feels you're wet enough and ready to take him. He was certain you could take it without as much prep. Over the last couple of months, you’d you’d shown him the phrase “fucking like rabbits” was true after all, but he liked making you feel like you needed it. He like dragging his tip against your entrance, teasingly prodding the head of his cock at your hole. He savored the way you whine and squirm for it. Just like you were doing right now.

He pushes it in you, a deep groan coming from him as he sinks in all the way to the hilt. The way your eyes flutter and droop drives him crazy. His arms cage you down on the mattress as his knees sink into the plush blankets for leverage so that he can start thrusting.

“Perfect fit, that’s for sure,” he grunts, “No one else can take my cock like you can.”

You nod, whimpering and holding onto him. “Made for my daddy,” you say before gasping.

“Yeah you were. My perfect angel bunny. Sent down just for me,” he says and starts rocking his hips.

You writhe within the confines of his arms. Your breasts push up against his chest as your back arches. He fucks into you deep as he can, just how he knows you like it. Gripping your wrists, he pins them on the mattress, keeping you secure and in place so that he can piston his hips against you without interruption.

His own head tilts back, eyes shutting and lips separating the smallest bit. You gaze up at him like he’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. Every bit of him makes you clamp around his length.

“Such a good girl,” he mutters, “This is just what you needed. Just needed daddy to breed you and get you nice and calm again.”

That word makes your fuse burn faster, and you nod vigorously. “Can’t help it daddy,” you whimper, “I’m just a bunny. Don’t know any better.”

“Oh, I know, baby. Sweet little bunny like you needs to be bred. You need daddy’s cock to function, don’t you? Nothing feels right if you haven’t been bred,” he says, picking up more speed.

“Mhm,” you squeak.

Your legs start trembling hard as he hammers into your sweet spot over and over. To stabilize you, he lets go of your wrists and places his palms on the back of your thighs. He’s pressing you so hard into the mattress it feels like you might drop through straight to the floor. You cry out for him again and again, spurring him on.

“Good girl. I gotta breed my perfect little bunny. Fuck you nice and full like you deserve,” he grunts. The bed creaks with the force of his movements.

He pants as he drills into you. His head eventually falls forward to your shoulder again, but his hips don’t stop rolling.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard, you’re gonna end up with a whole litter,” he moans.

Your eyes roll back and your legs lock around his waist. “Need it, daddy. Please,” you whine and clutch at his shoulders.

“I need it too baby. Need to knock up my sweet baby bunny. Gotta get you nice and full so everyone knows you’re all mine,” he says.

You’re both almost at the peak, gripping each other as tight as possible, sucking in air like there’s a limited supply. Both of you are moments from snapping when Leon’s eyes screw shut, his mind clouded by images of you pregnant with his babies. It’s too much, and he’s snapping into you like he’ll die otherwise.

“You’re gonna be the prettiest mama to our perfect babies,” he moans against you before his body starts sputtering.

The feeling of his cum flooding into you is enough to throw you over the edge with him. You seize up, back arching off the bed like you're possessed. You babble out some words of love, but all of it gets lost. You’re so jumbled up from the high, you both can only cling to each other as you ride it out.

You’re still breathing heavy as you come down, and so is he. Puffs of his breath come out right next to your ear. He lazily kisses below the lobe as you come back to reality.

“You see how important to me you are? See how much I love you?” he murmurs as he carefully rolls over and brings you to rest on his chest with him still buried inside you.

You nod and peck his jaw as you settle against him.

“Good. I never want you thinking like that again. If you ever need a reminder of what I think of you, I want you to tell me, and I’ll give you this same reminder.”

“I will,” you agree softly as he strokes your back.

You’re both exhausted from the exertion and the long day. He’s content to just melt into the bed while tangled up with you.

“Gonna keep you plugged up for a while, baby. Gotta make sure it takes, my sweet girl,” he mumbles as his eyes start drooping.

You gaze up at him, pretty sure you have hearts in your eyes. Your doubt and sadness had been abated for now. You nuzzle him and kiss his chest before trying to get some rest yourself.

“Love you daddy. So so much,” you whisper.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil x you

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toxicanonymity · 9 months ago

Text

it's hard (stepdad one shot)

3k words, stepdad!joel x f!reader

“Can I tell ya somethin'?” He whispers. “What?” You ask. He takes a deep breath. He scoots back, making room for you to roll onto your back and look up at him. His face is serious. He takes off his glasses and reaches to put them on the side table. His eyes are always browner than you remember.

SUMMARY: You're at their house xmas wk. WARNINGS: I8+ stepcest, angst, pining, fluff, possessive!joel, sneaking around, outercourse, unsafe p in v, mess of cum. reader can sit on him. Mood board is for mood. A/N: Title is an album by The Who.

It’s Christmas week, only a few days after your first time with Joel, and you’re staying at their house. You show up later than you said you would, and Joel has already asked where you are. The truth is, you're nervous. You’re not sure you want to have sex in their house, and you’re also not sure you can resist. It’s too mortifying to think about getting caught. There are plenty of other places you can do it–your apartment, a motel, a car. You’re trying to be smart and slow down.

When you show up, your mom’s car isn’t there. Joel is in the kitchen wearing his standard gray joggers, a tight white tee, and socks with coconuts on them. No shoes. He lights up when you walk in. "Hey," you mutter and he replies in kind as you close the door behind you. You survey the living room where there’s a pillow and blankets on the sofa, and you pity him for a moment.

“Oh,” he goes over to the christmas tree and plugs in the multicolor lights. “Merry Christmas week.” You stand there with your bags, not really sure what you’re doing, or feeling. He approaches you cautiously.

You look at each other for a few seconds until you're both comfortable that the other still feels the same way.

“I'll take those,” Joel finally offers. As he takes the bag off your shoulder, he gives you a peck on the cheek. “Good to see you,” he mumbles. His shirt rides up as he slings the bag over his shoulder and you follow him upstairs. He glances back and teases, “Caught ya lookin’.”

Once you make it to your bedroom you ask, “where's mom?”

“Grabbin’ dinner. Guess we’ll eat when she's back.” He puts the bags down on your bed and steps toward you. You don’t step away. He gently pulls you into a hug. You inhale his scent as his arms wrap around you.

The embrace lingers, and you can't ignore the warmth of his mostly-soft package pressing against you.

You begin to whisper, “I don't think we should. . .” trailing off when you realize you're not sure where to draw the line. Every second in his arms, you're less and less sure.

“Okay,” Joel murmurs. He kisses you on the cheek–slower, more tender than his initial greeting. “Whatever you want,” he adds. He presses his lips into your cheek again, and they linger for a moment before he drags them away.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, then pull away, cheeks burning as his arms reluctantly loosen and his hands slide down, skimming your sides as you step back.

“I'm gonna unpack,” you mutter, glancing at your luggage, cheeks warm.

“Yeah,” Joel scratches one side of his beard. “Okay.”

One day at a time. Have some self-control. You pull yourself away.

He nods, looks down, and turns around to leave. His back is sooo broad. You want to reach out and run your hand over his muscles, but you know you wouldn't stop there.

You lock the door behind him and hope it isn't too offensive. As soon as he’s out, you exhale. You lay down on your bed. You open your nightstand drawer and your heart flutters at a box with a bow on it, and your name in his handwriting. Under it, there's a new pack of batteries.

You wonder if he's about to jerk off, but you don't wait to find out. You close your eyes and imagine him coming back through the door, unable to resist.

—-------------

Your Mom comes home with Thai food and the three of you sit down to dinner together. Your mom makes small talk while Joel makes a mess of the pad thai trying to serve himself. Noodles are dragging behind, tethering the pile on his plate to the main container. Your mom bristles at this in her peripheral vision.

“So,” your Mom puts on her best interested face and asks you,“Swipe right on anyone lately?”

Joel scoffs silently.

“Not many,” you answer. Every time she talks to you, your heart races like you’re about to walk into a trap. This is your own doing, and you know it.

“How many guys are on there, anyway?”

“A lot.”

“Can I see?”

It doesn’t even occur to you to say no.

You open tinder and slide your phone over. “Just swipe left.”

Joel’s chewing slows down as he stares at the dating app open on your phone. Your stomach drops.

You hadn’t used it at all this week. You would’ve deleted it if you thought about it, but you’re so used to ignoring the notifications. You look at Joel apologetically as your Mom keeps swiping left.

Joel’s nostrils flare, and his breaths become faster. He swallows and doesn’t take another bite. He taps his chopsticks on his plate.

“Oh,” your Mom addresses you. “You know who’s single?” She looks up from your phone. Joel takes a deep breath and looks at her with his brow furrowed.

“Harold, down the street.”

“What the hell would she want with Harold?” Joel snaps.

Your mom chuckles. “What’s wrong with Harold?”

Her phone rings. Joel puts his chopsticks down and clasps his hands behind his chair to stretch his back. As soon as your Mom stands up from the table, he leans forward and takes your phone.

“What’s this about?” he asks flatly. It’s still open to tinder. His jaw clenches. He looks into your messages. At least he can see you haven’t sent any.

“I forgot I even had it,” you explain.

He goes to the home screen. “Good, you won’t mind.” He holds down the app and presses uninstall.

“What else ya got?” he starts scrolling your apps.

He goes on instagram and opens a picture of you in a mildly low cut dress. He deletes it and opens another picture. His breathing is still agitated.

“Hey,” you reach for your phone. “What the hell?” You take it from his hand. “Are you gonna act even crazier now?”

His brow furrows and he stares at the table, then meets your eyes and swallows. “I dunno.” His face softens as he looks at you.

Then he gets pensive and asks, “What do you think of Harold?”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t think about Harold at all.” You pocket your phone and get up from the table.

“Wait, where ya goin’?”

“Meeting a friend for coffee.”

He’s rubbing his beard like he’s trying not to say anything, but he blurts out, “What friend?”

“Emma. . . Jesus.”

On your way out of the neighborhood, you pass Harold’s house. It feels like every time you drive by in the daylight, he's struggling to bring some kind of delivery inside - Amazon boxes, or even donuts and iced coffee. Tonight he's sitting at his kitchen table alone, wrapping a present.

—--

When you’re at the cafe with Emma, Joel texts you, Sorry.

It’s ok, you reply.

It's a struggle not to tell Emma what's going on, but you don't. You tell her you’re seeing someone but don't want to jinx it by saying too much.

When you get home, he’s in the kitchen casually leaning with his butt and hands against the counter. “How ‘bout some egg nog?”

“No thanks,” you tell him, but you linger.

“We good?” he asks, quieter. You nod as you take off your jacket, then put it in the coat closet.

When you turn around, he’s right in your space. His eyes are red and his hair is messier than earlier, giving you a rush of desire.

“Sorry,” he repeats and reaches for your head.

You don’t pull away.

He cradles the back of your head as he hugs you loosely. You let your hands lightly skim his hips, then wrap around him. It would be a harmless hug in a different family. Until he pulls his head back, then rubs his nose against yours. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, nostrils filling with his aftershave. Then a toilet flushes in the background, and you break apart.

“I’m going to read,” you mumble. His fingertips skim your ass as you walk away.

—-------------

You’re lying in bed later, still reading, when Joel sends you a snapchat. The notification makes you tingle, but when you open it, it’s not him. It’s the TV downstairs with the title card of Krampus. You get out of bed and pad over to your mom's room. You crack the door open, and she's passed out.

You go downstairs.

Joel is lying on his side on the sofa. You and he are wearing the same pajamas you got for Christmas last year. The Christmas tree casts the room in a dim, cozy light.

He welcomes you under his arm. Just a little cuddling, you lie to yourself.

Without much hesitation, you settle in as a small spoon so you're both facing the tv. He runs his hand up and down your side before dangling his arm over your waist. The bulge in his pants is barely grazing you, until you push your ass back and he inhales sharply, then cups your breast, using his forearm across your torso to bring you closer. His nose nudges your neck and you can feel him inhaling your scent. His warm package nudges your ass. It's the first time you've felt him soft, like really felt him. It's still quite a bulge.

He's not soft for long. Soon he’s lightly grinding against you, hard and getting harder as the movie quietly plays. His hand leaves your breast, skimming down your soft pajama top to its bottom hem. His fingers creep under the shirt and when they hit your bare skin, the shock of arousal has you thinking very stupid thoughts. Like, maybe you should ride him on this couch, come what may. You stop his hand from going any further up your shirt.

His arm relaxes in defeat.

You gently take his hand out from under your shirt and bring it near your breast, where it was. Instead, he covers your hand with his and interlaces his fingers. His thumb brushes yours at a slow rhythm, and the butterflies in your chest nearly make you forget what you're trying to resist until his cock twitches against you.

He takes his hand back only for a moment to adjust himself, then his hand returns to yours. His arm wraps tighter over you. Against your back, his chest expands with each breath. The rhythmic stroke of his thumb lulls you half-asleep.

“Can I tell ya somethin?” He whispers.

“What?” You ask.

He takes a deep breath. He scoots back, making room for you to roll onto your back and look up at him. His face is serious. He takes off his glasses and reaches back to put them on the side table. His eyes are always browner than you remember.

“I wanna do this every night,” he says.

Your heart flutters. You turn on your side to face him.

“I mean it,” his eyes are somber. He lays his hand on your side. He takes in a shaky breath. “I'm miserable without you.”

“I'm right here.”

He shakes his head. “I need all of you.”

You look at each other for a few seconds in the light of the Christmas tree. There's not much to say.

“Me too,” you whisper. His nose twitches and he shakes his head like you don't get it.

“What I’m tryin’ to say is. . .I’d ruin my life for you, if it wouldn't ruin yours, too.”

You read each other's eyes for a long moment.

“What life,” you whisper.

His eyes brighten. “That's how I feel.” His gaze falls to your lips. “We’ll get a new one.”

You want to kiss him, but don't want to end up naked. First you warn, “I don't wanna take off any-”

He cuts you off with his lips. They’re soft and needy. Then his hand runs down your side, over your ass, and his fingers dig into your flannel-clad thigh. You hike your knee up and wrap your leg around him. The hard shape in his pants presses right against your most sensitive place. “Mm,” you moan softly into his mouth.

You’re throbbing for him. So turned on. His tongue slides against yours and he feeds on your mouth as he grinds against you. His dick is fat and hard and warm.

As you move against each other, pangs of pleasure dart to your nipples, your ass, your chest. He's so hard. Your body flutters on the edge of bliss but stays there. He grabs the plush of your ass, pulling you harder against him. You break the kiss with a gasp, and he latches onto your neck.

With a push of his hips, he moans into your neck then whispers, “can't wait to be inside you again.” you throb and gush at the thought. He grinds against you a little harder, needier, but just as slow. “Fuck, you feel good.” He rolls over on his back, bringing you on top of him. Then he sits up and lifts your knees so your legs wrap around him and you hang onto his neck.

“God I wanna fuck you like this,” he whispers, holding you against him. His cock swells harder. You're throbbing madly. You card your fingers into his hair and he groans at your fingertips on his scalp. His strong arm holds you against him with his hips lifting under you.

“Me too,” you whisper, your legs pulling yourself closer, harder. You groan softly. “Want you inside me—fuck, just like this.”

“Can ya feel it,” he asks, “ohhh–cause I still feel it–god–every time I close my eyes.” He moans as his stiff manhood twitches against you. Your clit pulses and you gasp. He covers your mouth with a kiss as you come. Everything else fades away. His lips break away with a shudder as he explodes against you through the soft flannel, pulsing hard. Your chest flutters at the feeling.

When you're both done, he lets you back onto the sofa, and resumes his position on his side. He pulls you back against him with a sigh. You're pleasantly surprised that you don't feel a bigger mess against your back.

“Shit,” he mutters after a minute.

“What?”

“‘s’not your problem.”

“Say it.” You roll on your back to look at him.

His cheeks flush. “M’not empty.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Not your problem,” he repeats, but you’re already pulling down your waistband. Yeah, it’s. . .not a problem at all.

You turn on your side again, facing the tv. You reach back into his pants, and your breath hitches at the mess of cum enrobing his slowly softening dick.

“Do it,” you whisper, and tilt your hips for him.

He quickly notches his cum smeared dick at your entrance, no longer fully hard, but hard enough. He presses on your mound as he plunges into you, dividing your insides with a sigh. “Fuck,” he breathes. Your chest feels light as your body makes space for him.

You close your eyes as he further stiffens, growing inside you, pressing against your walls. His hand slides up your top. He gropes your breast as he retreats, then bottoms out again. Within a few strokes, he’s as stiff as ever, and you’re as full as ever.

He pauses, fully seated inside you, throbbing. He covers you both with a blanket. You're relieved there's another one beneath you. He breathes against your ear as his hand meanders under your top again. “Inside?”

“Yeah,” You nod.

“Where it should be,” he pants. He moans as he slowly fucks you.

“Want it all,” you beg, getting closer and closer with the tight drag of him within you.

He adjusts his position, sliding his arm under your neck so he can grope you with both hands, hugging you tight against him.

"'s'all I think about," he whispers. "Ungghhh---when I wake up---ohh--when I go to sleep."

He moans softly and his hands feel you greedily, "whenever you're ready."

“Fuck,” you whisper. He buries himself in you slow and deep. His breath is hot on your neck. You push back on him, swallowing every inch he’ll feed your drooling cunt. He buries his mouth and nose against your head. The Christmas lights are blurry in the corner of your eye.

“Feel so perfect,” he pants. He rubs your clit and you still his hand. He withdraws part way and pauses with his tip nudging just the right spot. He just barely rocks his hips, staying right there, rubbing over it, not letting up.

You gasp and tighten with tension, then sigh as you gush on him.

“Yeah,” he pants, presses your mound for leverage, and bottoms out as you choke his cock.

He sighs and begins to pulse with even more power than you remember. A huge burst of warmth, followed by a smaller twitch, another massive burst, a slow thrust. It keeps coming, and so do you. His breaths are heavy against you, his stomach flexing into your back as he empties his load. You're overflowing with cum. Your climax wanes, and he's still pulsing even once he's dry.

It finally stops, and he rests inside.

You catch your breath, and the smell of sex hangs so heavy in the air that dread bubbles in your chest. You pull yourself forward, letting his cock fall out.

“Shit,” you mutter at the mess between your legs. You pull your pants up. He squeezes your hip affectionately as you sit up.

He sits up on his elbow and tucks away his worn out cock. He takes a deep breath and searches your eyes.

You don't know what to say. You reach back to feel the blanket – soaked. “This is. . .we can’t do this again.”

He whispers your name, sits up and rests one hand on your back, one on your thigh. His chest is heaving like he's waking up from a nightmare. “What happened,” he whispers. “Talk to me.”

“Here. We can't do this here.”

He sighs and swallows. “Okay,” he whispers. “Sorry.”

“You know how to use the washer, right?”

“Yeah. I've got it. Of course.”

You take off your pajama bottoms.

“You okay ?” He asks.

You nod. You yearn to lay with him, but you’re also compelled to leave that room.

You read his face and the worry on it makes your heart hurt.

“It's okay,” you whisper, then kiss him good night. It's a long, soft kiss, and he doesn't want to let you go. “It’s okay, I promise,” you assure him.

You creep up the stairs pantsless. The air is cool on the cum between your thighs until more warmth trickles out.

You clean up in your bathroom and hear the washer turn on downstairs. You can't get his pitiful look out of your head. You send him a chat when you get back in bed: Good night ❤️.

Sweet dreams ❤️🤟, he replies.

—---

----

Thank you for reading!

PSA - The main story to stepdad is over, and I don't commit to another arc of them, but the AU is still open for one shots, asks, HCs, whatever I get inspired on. Basically I want it to be more casual without expectations.

There will be another post this month, because I already wrote the smut.

@silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @rainstorms-library @nervousmumbling

#stepdad!joel #stepdad!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #toxicanonymity ☠️#tw stepcest

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sinofwriting · 2 months ago

Text

Conversations - Max Verstappen (I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 614 Summary: Direct follow up to ‘Protective’ (Part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

Max has always taken care of how he approaches certain conversations with Pan. Not just because he cared for her, but because she is a mom and that brings a whole host of other conversations he himself had never imagined having to have before seeing her for the first time.

But this isn’t a conversation he’s taking much care with. There is an anger burning in him, a fury, and perhaps he should take a bit more care, but he knows that as soon as he speaks his tone will be gentle, words more gentle than they have to be, but he can’t ease into it, find a segue.

“You never told me.” He normally would wrap his arms around her, bring her close before pressing kisses all over her face, delighting in the smile it gets him. This time he just gives her a small kiss.

She frowns, “about being called a whore?”

Max winces at the word, at the word being applied to her. “Yes.”

“Oh,” her brows furrowed together and once again it hits Max how despite her being older, having a kid, that he’s the more experienced one when it comes to relationships.

“Could we talk about it?” He asks, guiding her over to the couch where they both sit once she nods.

“When was the first time?”

“I was eighteen. I had gotten called other things before that, especially with Logan being around, calling me mom, but it wasn’t until after I adopted him that I actually got called a whore.” She smiles, but it’s small, barely there. “It was actually me getting him into karting. Some parents thought that I had slept around, y’know. And then father’s of some other kids, team principal’s and owners when I wouldn’t put out would also call me a whore. Funny how that works.” She laughs.

He hears the laugh, but his brain is focusing on the team owners and principals.

He knew all the team’s that Logan had been a part of. Knew a good majority of their team leadership either by name or from having met them. And more than one, more than a few had tried to start something with her and then when she of course rejected them, they called her a whore.

“Which ones?”

“What?”

“The teams, which ones?”

She sighs, leaning forward a bit. “Max, y’know I can’t tell you that. It wasn’t anyone from Ricky Flynn though or Carlin or Prema.”

“That leaves about eight other teams.”

They stare at each other, unwavering and after a moment she sighs again. “The one that was really a problem was the team owner for the first karting team Logan was in, ITN.”

“They aren’t a thing anymore.” “No. They didn’t want to continue after they lost the championship in 2017 to a team that had cheated and didn’t get banned.”

Max raises an eyebrow.

She shrugs, “I stay caught up. The owner now has a small stake in McLaren.”

“Arrow?”

“Both. All.” She shrugs again, “I didn’t look that deep into it, just saw the news. I’ve seen him in the paddock though.”

“You’ve seen him in the paddock.” he repeats, blinking slowly. “Okay.”

He smiles at her, leaning forward. “Thank you for telling me.”

She smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for listening.”

As he pulls her into his arms to cuddle, she doesn’t notice the clench of his jaw, his eyebrows drawing together, as he thinks about what he’ll be bringing up and doing in tomorrow’s meeting. There were a few more things Red Bull as a team could do than just no longer allowing Sky Sports to interview and talk to them.

#f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #I ❤️ MILFS verse #sins fics

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gojonanami · 10 months ago

Text

❝ 𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘, 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 ! ❞

❝ HONESTLY, I CAN'T BELIEVE I GET TO CALL YOU MINE !! ❞

✧ pairing: professor! suguru geto x reader

✧ summary: it's your first valentine's day as a couple with suguru, but he's away for a conference in another city -- and you understand you do, but you can't help but miss him -- so what happens when he ends up surprising you?

✧ warnings: so fluffy!!, suggestive, mentions of nsfw, implications of smut, reader has graduated from her program, set after the events of the main series (including every part), these two idiots are so in love its ridiculous, lingerie mention, wearing his glasses and button down

✧ wc: 1,206

“I’m sorry I have to be away,” you smile at Suguru through the screen, knowing that you’d kiss his furrowed brow away if he was here, before finding his lips with yours. “This conference was last minute, I wish I didn’t have to go, but Yaga left me little choice but to go,”

You shake your head, “We can celebrate when you come back, it’s not a big deal anyway. Just means you have more to make up for on White Day,” you tease, and he laughs, a smile on his lips for the first time the entire call, “don’t worry ok? I’m really not upset,”

“I know, it’s just our first Valentines together and I know you had planned something for us. I really wanted it to be special,” his lips purse, arms crossed as he looks almost utterly hopeless (far too cute) and you can’t help but chuckle, “what?”

“Never thought my hardass professor could be such a romantic,” you smirk, as his cheeks are tinted with a lovely red, “should I be giving you a poor grade for your tardiness?”

He rolls his eyes, as his lips curl again in a smile that can’t seem to escape your presence, “Well, while I’ll definitely be making it up with some extra credit, I’d appreciate my favorite student to cut me a little slack,”

“I recall you cutting me very little slack that first day,”

“On the contrary, I think I was very kind, especially considering you were late to the very first class—“

“And what is this weekend?” You say in mock thought, “our first Valentine’s Day?” He huffs, and you smile in victory, “is this the first headache I’ve given you?”

“Today? Yes,” and you gape at him, and it’s his turn to smirk, “I love you,”

And your gaze grows soft, “I love you too, call me after the conference is done for today?”

“You know I will,” and you both share your goodbyes and you’re left by yourself, as you lay back on your bed, a pout on your lips. Suguru had offered to let you stay at his place, but you know it would have only made you miss him more — being surrounded by his things, his scent, his clothes. You sighed as you buried your face in your pillow, glancing at the picture the two of you had taken in Kyoto at one of the local shrines, almost taunting you.

He’d be back soon enough — right?

Sorry I haven’t been able to call again. It’s been a lot of late nights — too many networking dinners. I’ll call you tonight.

It has been two nights now, and it was Valentine’s Day tomorrow. You had barely gotten a minute to speak to Suguru since your call with him on Friday. You sighed, sending him a picture of you in his button up you stole, along with his spare glasses he had left at your place, can we have a networking meeting? I’ll send an invite to your calendar.

I’ll clear my schedule. You smile.

Another message, as soon as I get back.

You pout, you expected as much — you shouldn’t have dated such an indemand academic. The horrors of academia.

You laid back, forearm over your forehead as you stare back at your blank ceiling. It was fine, you really understood that he was busy, but you just — turning on your side to stare at his smiling face in the framed image on your bedside table before your eyes flutter shut — missed him.

You stir awake to lips pressed at your neck, soft kisses that draw you from the heavy arms of sleep, as your eyes flutter open to see Suguru, at your side.

“Sugu?” And his fingers trace your jaw, as your brow furrows in confusion, “but isn’t it—“

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind him — an arrangement of your favorites, as you blink, brain seemingly struggling to keep up, “you okay?”

Your fingers find his cheek, “is this a dream?” And he chuckles, as he leans down to plant a sweet kiss on your lips, before his fingers lightly pinch your cheek. And you’re sitting up only to jump into his arms, a gasp on his lips, as he chuckles, arms curling around you, raking his fingers through your hair. The bouquet lays forgotten on the side because truly the best gift was in your arms.

“I missed you too,” he chuckles, as you bury your face in his chest, breathing in his scent, as if he’d disappear any second.

You lean back to look up at him, “What are you doing back early?”

“Made a deal with Yaga that I’d go to all the networking events he wanted, if he let me leave last night,” he kisses your forehead, “surprised?”

“I am, the best surprise,” you find his lips in another kiss, “I was fine with you being busy, but I just missed you so much. It reminded me of all the time we had to spend apart — and I just know I can’t spend another minute without you,” you bite your lip, “I was going to wait until the end of the night, but,” you bite your lip, “I know we discussed moving in before — and I think I’m ready to,”

He blinks, before a smile breaks out on his lips, “Are you sure?” And you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, lips sliding against his, as your hands slide back to cup his cheeks.

You part, barely a breath apart, as you press your forehead against his, “Never been more sure of anything in my life — it’s definitely owed to us now, don’t you think?”

He snorts, his eyes shining, as he presses another gentle kiss to your forehead, “Should we start looking for a place now?” And you grin, as you climb into his lap, a tilt of your head.

“Don’t you want your Valentine’s Day gift?” You ghost kisses along his jawline, drawing a gasp from his lips, your hands guiding his own under his shirt you had stolen, “I had worn it last night just to try it on, but now,” you undo a few buttons of his shirt, a hint of red lace peeking through the undone collar.

His clothed cock twitches through his slacks, as his fingers pull yours away, to undo the last remaining buttons to show a red and pink lingerie set — red lace hugged the outline of body with red hearts dotting along the design, sheer blush fabric left barely anything of your breasts and cunt to the imagination — not that he needed to imagine — he had practically memorized every curve and corner of your body.

“Well?” And his fingers pull his shirt off of your body, as he’s gotten you pinned to the bed, as you giggle, lips parted, “I also baked you some sweet treats, baby,”

His lips curl, as he leans down to meet your lips, as his breath warms your lips and his words warm your heart, “There’s only one sweet thing I want, right now.”

The two of you never did get around to looking for a place together — not until the next day.

✧ a/n: this was supposed to come out earlier, but i fell asleep because i slept badly last night and ended up reading a manhwa when i got tired of trying to sleep. wrote this fic listening to laufey's valentine :) i also didn't tag everyone since this was kind of a last minute thing - sorry guys <;3

✧ taglist: @spider-fan72, @grunge-mo0n, @ameri-blog, @kentocalls, @peachyminx, @forest-fruits-jam, @hanxyy, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @sunflowmaryam, @regrettinglifechoices, @sugurus-fave-monkey, @atomicbxtch, @shinylightsalad

#sab [mlist]#sab series [prof suguru]#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto fanfiction #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto fanfiction #geto suguru fanfiction #geto suguru fluff

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luveline · 11 months ago

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Oh oh oh Hotch walking in on a sweet little moment between Jack and reader and he just MELTS when he realises how much he loves them both??💗💗 (pls, only if it inspires you lovely!!)

ty for your request! fem, 1k

“Well, I liked it. I thought it was cool.”

Hotch puts his keys in the bowl. “It is cool,” Jack says. It's good to hear his voice after so long away. Jack's not often talkative. “It is.”

“Thank you, Jack.” There's a gap where Hotch can't see anything, peering around the door to the kitchen. He's too far away. “You're such a nice boy. You know that?” you ask.

You and Jack are talking in the unhurried tones of people close to one another. Hotch has to strain to hear it clearly. “You think so?”

“I do. You're really, always nice to me. You're brave and smart, Jack, but what I love about you the most is how nice you are. How kind.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Hotch can see the look on your face in his mind, the softening of your eyes and the small smile. “Do you think you're nice?”

“Yes!” A small giggle echoes off of the kitchen tiles. “I'm nice. But I want to be brave more.”

“Yeah? It's a really great thing to be so nice. To be patient with people, and to be forgiving, that's its own kind of bravery, because it can be hard.”

“It's easy.”

“I'm glad you think so.” Hotch walks further down the hall and finally spots you. You're sitting on the kitchen floor together with one of Jack's long paper rolls spooled from the door to the cabinets. Jack lays on his stomach with a red marker in his hand, staring at you with wide eyes as you draw. Hotch can't see your face, but he hears your smile. “I love you, Jack.”

“I love you too… thanks for drawing with me.”

“I love drawing with you. Maybe I should say thanks to you for doing all the best ones.”

Jack laughs with the shaken-soda quality only little kids can reach. It immediately gets you laughing, and that combined makes Hotch chuckle. Your heads turn together quickly, Jack's with excitement and yours surprise. “Hi, daddy!”

“Hi, buddy.”

“You're home early?” Jack asks.

Hotch steps carefully over the mess of pending and paper, sitting cross-legged at Jack's side. Jack smiles and tips into Hotch's lap without getting up, a flop of limbs into starched pants. Hotch hugs him in similar limbless fashion.

“Home for two days, at least.” He presses his lips to Jack's ear, speaking softly. “So I hope you saved some room for me on that paper.”

“I did! Do you want your pyjamas? We've been wearing our pyjamas all day. We had pizza for breakfast.”

“Jack!” You cover your face. “Jack, that was our secret, oh,” —you part your fingers— “Aaron, I'm sorry, I know he shouldn't lie to you, and I know I shouldn't give him junk but he was asking so nicely and I really didn't wanna make oatmeal.”

Jack runs away with another bout of giggles, knowing he's entrapped you.

“You know I don't care,” Hotch says, giving you an easy smile.

“Yeah, but… I'm supposed to be a good role model,” you say, offering a small smile in return. It half knocks the air from his lungs.

He reaches across the drawing chaos to touch your face with his thumb. Your cheek is soft. The little wrinkle by your mouth deepens with your smiling, and the incremental weight of your head tilting into his hand is a feeling he can't get enough of.

“I heard you talking,” he says.

“What were we saying?”

“About how he's kind.” He cups your cheek. “I missed you both so much. It's… amazing to be home.”

He knows you like this more than kissing, sometimes. It isn't hard to hold you like you mean everything to him, to caress your skin with a gentle fingertip, drawing a line along the curve of your neck. Your pupils grow to black dimes, and your breathing slows.

“I missed you too, Agent. We missed you, we've been trying to think of new games to keep busy. See, we're drawing us in different jobs.”

He's going to look just as soon as he gets enough of you, his thumb pressing circles into your skin.

“Did you frown a lot while you were away?” you ask in a whisper.

“Can you tell?”

“A little bit,” you say, still whispering as you lift your hand. You rub the line between his brows. “Should I kiss it away?”

Jack runs back in with Hotch's pyjamas in his arms, a grey shirt and dark blue pants. “Kiss what?”

“My wrinkles,” Hotch says.

“His frowny face.”

Jack wraps his arms over Hotch's shoulders, almost choking him with the pyjamas. “I'll do it! I will.”

“Alright, buddy. Fix me up, okay? I can only smile for the next couple of days.”

Hotch gets a face full of kisses and a great long hug to round it out, Jack in his lap. You're sketching something as they hug but he can't see what until Jack settles, and when he does, he laughs so hard he almost knocks Jack back out of his lap.

Jack Hotchner, professional frown remover, you've captioned. Jack stands tall and smiling with a love heart on his shirt, his felt marker outlines sewn with care. Aaron Hotchner stands next to him, professional frowner.

Hotch immediately pesters Jack into giving him the right pens for his own turn. He doesn't caption it, unsure what job he'd label either of you with, but it's clear what he's getting at with speech bubbles full of smiley faces.

He thinks he might remember your conversation forever without it, but the drawing serves as a nice memento. He only wishes he were a better artist.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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reverie-starlight · 7 months ago

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{the proposal- kuroo}

on today’s episode of “rev accidentally disregards the polls she made”, we have this fic :3 I actually adore this one, it was so fun to write!! hope you enjoy <3 also… thank you sm for 1k followers 😭🫶🏻 that’s huge, I appreciate everyone sm 🥹

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. fluff fluff fluff. alcohol mentions, drunk reader. dialogue heavy at the start.

“You need to propose to me.”

Kuroo, who is enjoying his drink, begins to choke. “I what?”

You roll your eyes with a barely concealed smile.

“Not for real, silly, just a fake one.”

He looks at you like you’ve gone insane. “I’m not following.”

“We’re broke university students, do you really think we can afford to pay for more than two drinks tonight? If you propose, I bet people would make a drunken mistake and offer to buy us a celebration round.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him as he continues to give you that same incredulous look.

“That’s-“ he cuts himself off before he can finish that thought and starts with a new one. “I doubt that would work. I mean, maybe at a restaurant with free dessert, but a bar? Really?”

“I’ve seen it done in stranger places!” You defend yourself. “Besides, you’ve been sipping on your drink for the past 25 minutes. If the ice had poison in it, you’d be dead by now,” you lean back and cross your arms.

Your boyfriend just shakes his head. “Your mind is a very interesting place. Alright, fine. We’ll do it, but if it doesn’t work that’s going to be really embarrassing. Hand me your ring, I’ll do it when more people are around.”

You only have to wait another ten minutes before a group of business men having a meeting a couple of tables over appear to be drunk enough to invest in young love.

Your boyfriend nods once to signal that he’s going to do it and soon enough he’s on one knee, fake tears forming at the corners of his eyes and a dusting of pink on his cheeks that make you want to kiss them.

(Your heart jumps that the thought that he could do this for real one day).

“You’re the love of my life,” he begins, and you make a mental note that he either has a bright future in acting or his drink really is too strong, despite his insistence that he could handle it earlier.

A lady one table over gasps and draws more attention to the performance in front of the customers.

“And I absolutely adore every single thing about you. I had a whole plan for this, but with the way you’re looking tonight, I can’t wait a second longer. We’ve managed to get many years together already, and I’d be honoured to spend the rest of our lives just like this. Will you marry me?”

You’re genuinely touched at his words and the sincerity in his tone almost makes you forget it’s fake.

Not wanting to make your audience wait much longer, you make a big show of nodding your head and jumping into his crouched form with a loud “yes!”

Drunken cheers are only background noise while you press against his chest. His heartbeat eliminates the chance of you focusing on anything but him.

Kuroo tips his head down to whisper, “think we pulled it off?”

You nod against him and start to get up. He looks over to see one of the drunk business men coming over to greet you.

“Congratulations on your engagement! Let us buy the happy couple some drinks!”

The man’s face is flushed and he gestures to his table. “Order whatever you’d like, it’ll be put on our tab.”

You fake surprise. “Oh my goodness, that’s very generous of you, but we could never take advantage of your kindness like that!”

Beside you, your ‘fiancé’ stifles a laugh but the man doesn’t notice. “No, I insist! You should celebrate.”

This time Kuroo takes over. “Ah… well, thank you, sir. Rest assured we won’t go too crazy.”

The man laughs and claps him on the back. “What a polite couple of kids you are! Reminds me of me and my wife,” he winks before heading back to his table, whistling some tune.

You spin around and look up at your boyfriend with a smug grin. “So what are we getting first?”

A couple of hours later, you’re both stumbling into your campus apartment, giggling and trying to shush each other despite not having any other roommates.

You somehow manage to get through your night routines and fall back into your bed soon after. You’re a far more wasted than Kuroo is (he always drinks less than you to be able to take care of you), so he tries to get you to sip on some water.

He watches you with a silly grin as you fiddle with your “engagement” ring. You’ve since slipped it back onto your index finger where it originally was this evening, but you move it back to your ring finger and fiddle with it.

“I think…” your words are slightly slurred and laced with sleep. “I mean, I know… that I don’t want my real engagement ring to be diamond.”

His grin widens so much his cheeks begin to hurt. “No? So what will it be, baby?”

You form your own smile. “I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with. You know me best after all.”

He forces you to take another sip of water when your words don’t get any less coherent. While you drink he thinks of the ruby ring tucked away somewhere at Kenma’s house. You’re far too good at sniffing out clues and he’s never been good at keeping secrets from you.

You’re still in university, it’s far too soon to get engaged for real- you’ve both always said you wanted to wait until you’re done with school- but he’s been saving up for that ring since high school. he’s always knows you would be the one for him.

So when the time comes he’ll be ready. With a speech much better than whatever he said tonight.

“Alright, let’s get some sleep. You’re going to have the worst hangover tomorrow, you haven’t had that much to drink in a while.”

You tug at his wrist before he can shut the lamp off. “Wait, don’t you want to celebrate our engagement?”

“Sleep, baby.”

You pout a bit. “Don’t you think we celebrated enough tonight?”

You stare at him and he sighs. “There’s plenty of time for celebrating our fake engagement some more tomorrow,” he shuts the lamp off and wrangles you down with him. “Now it’s time for sleep.”

“‘m not tired,” you mumble, obviously lying. “I could go all night.”

You settle onto your pillow and he strokes your cheek. “I know, sweetheart, you’re a fighter.”

You nod as you begin to doze off.

He notices the ring still on your finger and he smiles softly.

The hangover you’ll be sporting tomorrow will definitely have been worth it.

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ty for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed <3

tagging: @emmyrosee @luvring @dira333 @tetzoro

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x reader fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader fluff #haikyuu x gender neutral reader

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wombywoo · 1 year ago

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Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

#tutorial #my art #art tutorial #since people have been asking #I remembered to save my process from this latest work~#enjoy 🙆‍♀️

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carame1bunny · 6 months ago

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𝔉𝔞𝔴𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔬𝔫

Hello dears! Here is the fourth part of my “of the season” series(?)!

Pairing: Alastor x Fem doe!reader

Summary: The two deers finally welcome their baby

Warning: childbirth, nursing, mentions of smut, pregnancy, a whole lotta fluff:)

Alastor knew one thing for sure, he couldn’t wait to meet his little fawn. To hold it in his arms, protect it. His paternal instinct went into overdrive. He suddenly remembered the way Y/N acted when she was in heat, her body being tricked into thinking that a fawn needed a mother, that a fawn needed her. The way her body was singing to him, the way she made her nest bigger at the thought of him. The way she had a bit more meat on her, he could never forget the softness of his doe. Only now… it wasn’t a trick, she really was expecting. And he had to make sure that everything went perfectly. However, as the days went by, his urges became stronger and more powerful, that only meant one thing… The fawn was due any day. And that day came soon enough…

The deers were fast asleep in their bed, limbs tangled together, but Y/N woke up to an uncomfortable sensation. She felt pressure inside of her, not necessarily painfully, but it was not comforting either. She knew it was time, she had been sensing it for a while. Her now big bump dropped a bit, her womb lowering itself so their baby has an easier time getting out. She also sensed it on herself and Alastor. Her mind constantly chanting to her. Bigger nest, bigger nest, more room for fawn, more room for fawn, fawn fawn fawn. She could barely contain her laugh when she noticed Alastor mirroring her behavior. He was as restless as her, and he spent many hours with her in their nest, their bodies just needing to bask in each other’s comforting scent and touch.

“Alastor? Darling?!” She shook him awake, she couldn’t possibly go back to sleep now.

He was instantly alert and barely sitting upright in bed, with a huge palm over her belly in protectiveness. “It’s time isn’t it?” His instincts immediately realized what was going on. “Should I call Rosie?” He already reached for the wired telephone beside them, but his mate stopped him.

“Let’s wait until we’re sure I’m in labor. It could be a false one.” She said in a soft tone, but they both knew this was the real deal. It was still best to wait a bit though, in the past two weeks, they had multiple times when they thought their baby wanted it’s arrival, but it was not it.

“You’re right, doe.” She laid on her back and his hands were already fluffing her back into the sheets and pillows. “Stay here and attempt to rest while I make you some tea.” He planted a kiss on her lips and belly before walking downstairs to make the tea. He could think while the water was heating up in the kettle. He didn’t only just wait for her to give birth so he could hold his fawn, but so she could be comfortable as before. He knew she adored being pregnant, she loved that she could protect her baby in her own womb, she was growing it and keeping it warm. But with pregnancy, came pain. It was no secret that her belly was huge, a bit bigger than usual, Rosie was the one drawing attention to it, when the deers were over for tea.

“My, my, darling.” She put her manicured palm on her swollen belly. “Well, won’t we have a blast getting this babe out! It will be a meaty one!” Y/N looked at Rosie with wide eyes.

“But there won’t be any complications, right?” She grabbed Alastor’s hand in a panic.

“There shouldn’t be any. I mean… Alastor is a tall gentleman, ain’t he, and maybe the baby will be as big as the daddy? And you are at the very end of your pregnancy.” Rosie patted his shoulder.

Alastor kissed his mate’s neck, where he bit her, and spoke in a calming tone. “Don't worry your pretty head about it, all will be well.”

He was pouring the water when he heard her shriek and a call of his name. The worst possible scenarios came to his mind, but he was somewhat relieved when he found her in their bed. At first he didn’t see the issue, until he saw the big wet spot under her, the soaked sheets. His smile crept upwards, just like her own did. She just leaned to the side and picked up the phone, calling Rosie.

Alastor needed a second before he got down to helping her. While she was on the phone, he got out warm towels and warm water to bring into the guestroom. He fluffed the bed as much as he could before going back to the bedroom. The sight waiting for him made his heart tighten, Y/N was struggling to get out of the bed because of the size of her belly. He immediately rushed to her rescue. “There, there, doe.” He got her up on her two feet and looked down between them, he only saw the belly obviously, but not for long. He got her a towel and wiped away the fluid of her womb on her skin, then helped her change into a nightgown. He sat her down into the armchair so he could quickly change their soaked bedding.

“I can help, you know.” She said from the armchair with a toothy grin.

“Ha! No.”

“I want to, and I will he—“ she suddenly felt a caress on her tummy, his shadow. It made her sit back down, enjoying the cool stroking on her warm skin. She was unaware of the shit eating grin on Alastor’s face. She was his mate, he always knew what she needed, which was perfect in her pregnant state. Her hormones made her hot always, loose dresses were completely overtaking her closet. And Alastor always made sure that they had a shit ton of ice at home.

When the bed was clean, he picked her up again and brought her to the guest room, gently putting her down on the bed. He made sure everything was in place before kneeling next to the bed beside her, taking some time to say goodbye to the bump.

He caressed and kissed her skin. “I can’t wait to meet you, my litt—“ He noticed her face screwing up and her whole body tensing. “What is it?!” He went into panic mode immediately.

“I-I think it’s the contractions. I had a few before, but they weren’t s— OW!” As if on cue, Rosie stormed into the room. Of course, looking perfect and fabulous as always.

“I see Mama is getting contractions.” She put her bags down that contained every supply that would be needed for delivering. The back of her hand came up to stroke Y/N’s forehead, an attempt to calm her down. Rosie went in front of the bed and flipped Y/N’s dress up, to see where they were. She checked her and began giggling. “Oh, my! The baby isn’t really wasting any time, I believe we can begin. Darling, I need you to spread your legs as wide as you can.”

Alastor’s ears were twitching, this was it. “What can I do to help?!” He was restless, he needed to help his mate.

“Get behind her and hold her legs!” The cannibal woman instructed. And of course, he complied.

He took off his shirt and got behind Y/N, he knew that the feeling of his skin on hers would calm her down.

Her skin nearly burned his, but she just gave him a smile and laid the back of her head on his shoulder.

“Rosie, is she supposed to be this warm?” He was stressing, like… really stressing.

“Hmm, let’s try taking this nightgown off, okay, dear?” Y/N nodded her head eagerly, desperate for anything to cool her down.

Alastor gently peeled her dress off and held her legs back. He was truly amazed how his doe’s body fought to birth their baby. How her legs naturally bowed for easier delivery. He felt her body tense and her delicate hand tightened on his arms. She started pushing with all of her might.

“Just push whenever you feel the need to.” Rosie’s fingers started pressing down on her lower tummy and womb, checking the baby’s position. “Okay, lovely, the baby is in the right position.”

She was whimpering in his arms, tears were flowing down her cheeks. It broke his heart, seeing her in such pain and knowing that he was the one who put her in this position. But he also knew that in a matter of minutes, they would have their own fawn to hold. He kissed her and embraced her from behind. “It hurts so much, Alastor…”

“My love, it will be over soon. Soon, you will hold your little baby in your arms, our little baby. You are so strong, I know you can do it.” That urged her to push harder.

“Good, good. I can see the head!” Rosie reached in to help the baby’s shoulder out. A thing about hellborn babies, they are beautiful and different from human newborns.

Seconds later, het body tensed for the final time and she let out a huff of relief. Then there was silence, until a little cry was heard. Moments later, Rosie put the wailing baby on Y/N’s naked chest, and she gently enveloped the baby in her arms, with eyes full of tears.

“Oh, my baby!” Alastor reached forward and checked the baby. “Ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes.”

“Congratulations, my deers! You’re parents to a beautiful baby boy!” Rosie spoke, while bringing the water and tower to clean the baby and Y/N.

The baby was gorgeous, looking exactly like Alastor. Dark red fur, big red eyes, but there were certain elements from his mama. While he had Alastor’s eyes, they were framed by his mama’s doe eyes.

He was clean and bundled up, resting in the embrace of his parents. “Let me get some water and something sugary!” Said Rosie before leaving the room.

“What are we naming this little one?” Asked Alastor, his eyes were warm and full of love towards his baby.

“He looks like a little gentleman, so something elegant. How about… Vincent Hartfelt?” It fit their baby perfectly, so they stuck with it.

After Rosie came back and Y/N gulped down the water, they were talking in more detail about the healing process. Alastor didn’t hear a word, he was busy cradling the tiny fawn to his chest, letting his tiny cheek nuzzle into his father’s fur.

“You might bleed for a bit, so baby Vincent won’t be the only one with diapers.” Rosie joked. “And if you feel sore, a hot bath always helps. And—“

Both Rosie and Alastor snapped their heads towards Y/N when they heard a weak whimper from her. She was gripping the sheets again, her body tensed up completely. “Probably just your body recovering from birth, darling.”

But in the next few minutes, while Alastor was putting the baby into the crib, Y/N started pushing more frequently, until she spoke with a panicked voice. “Something is happening!” She said between her clenched teeth, body shivering from the intense pain.

The cannibal woman wasted no time to get between her legs again. “OH SHIT! The other fawn is coming.”

“The other what?” The deers said in unison.

“No time for chit-chat, I see the head!” The doe pushed with all of her remaining strength, and a wet sound indicated that their other fawn was out, followed by a sweet cry.

Y/N once again embraced the baby, the mates blinked at it, still surprised from the dramatic entrance. Moments later, the shock turned into joy. Rosie delivered the placenta, her body indicating that there were no more fawns coming.

A quick clean up by Rosie and the second little bundle was wrapped up too.

“A healthy girl!” Both of them kissed around the baby doe’s tiny face, which was followed by a sleepy coo. She was gorgeous, and a perfect clone of Y/N. She also had her father’s colors and red dark eyes.

“What a beauty… She looks just like her Mama, I always knew your beauty will bless hell even more so.” Said Alastor, who was trying hard not to tear up, Y/N hadn’t even bothered minding the happy tears running down her cheeks.

“We each got our little clones, Vincent will grow into the most handsome gentleman in hell!” The need to hold her other baby consumed her. You really thought the motherly instinct would settle? They are just getting started. “By the way, what would you like to name this little one?” the doe asked, looking at Alastor with big tearful eyes.

“Heidi. Heidi Hartfelt.” He just knew that as he was looking down at his child.

“It’s perfect.” Y/N nuzzled the side of her face to her mate’s cheeks. “I love you, and I love our babies. Forever, and ever.”

“Oh, my darling. I love you more than words can say, my love for you and the fawns go beyond everything and anything. I would die for you a million times more.” He kissed her deeply, both of their tails wiggling in excitement.

While Rosie held the baby girl, Alastor carried his doe back into their bedroom. Once she was in bed, under the sheets with her back leaning against the many feathery pillows, Alastor came up beside her with Vincent in his arms and Rosie handed Heidi to Y/N.

Rosie stayed for a little bit, in case any after birth effect happened to Y/N that would need to be tended to. She was sitting in the armchair beside the bed, sipping some tea. “I cannot say I’m surprised. The twins explain the huge belly, I should have known. But look at that size difference!” She was onto something, Vincent was much bigger than Heidi. “And, proper deers have twins most of the time, I didn’t think that was also true for deer sinners.”

“I am overfilled with joy that Heidi decided to come along.” Alastor said proudly.

After Rosie shared and wrote down some tips and stuff for them, she left, but not before giving both the babies and their mama a kiss on the forehead.

“So then there were two…” Y/N said out of nowhere, admiring the little fawns she gave life to.

“Then there were two.” Said her mate, also lost in the love he felt. “My darling, I could never thank you enough for giving us two beautiful babies. I could never thank you enough for letting me take care of you, and welcoming me inside of you, both body and soul. I promise you, there will never be a second when I won’t protect you, care for you and cherish you.”

“I know. I am so proud to call you my mate, and I know I am the happiest I can be. Because of you, and these little ones.”

As if on cue, Vincent woke up and started fussing around restlessly in Alastor’s arm, he weeped quietly. Which of course, caused his sister to wake up too, but she shrieked with all of her might. Y/N’s instincts instantly knew what was going on, her fawns were hungry. “Hold her for a second?” She passed Heidi to Alastor to remove the top of her nightgown. His breath hitched in his throat when he saw the milk already dripping from her nipples. He gave her Vincent and he managed to latch on easily, however Heidi was putting up quite the fight.

“Oh, little darling… If you would stop screaming for a second, you could see that Mama is trying to feed you.” Alastor chuckled, he gently got a hold on the back of her head, and with the other hand, he guided his mate’s nipple into the wailing mouth. And from the on, the only thing that was heard in the room was the eager suckling. Y/N leant her head back, while holding and nursing two babies at once.

“You just feed, my loves, you must be so hungry and tired. You spent so much time growing this beautiful in my tummy…”

Alastor thought he might burst with pride, his doe was so very clever. His chin was resting on her shoulder, his eyes were relaxed, and his fingers were constantly stroking a fuzzy little head. He suddenly noticed with a chuckle that Vincent had a drop of milk running down his chin, so he reached down and wiped it away, only to put his finger into his own mouth and tasting the sweetness on it. “I must say I am quite jealous.”

Y/N giggled and whispered into his ear in a seductive voice. “Plenty more from where that came from, as soon as I heal, mommy and daddy can have their own feeding.” She pressed a kiss beside his lips, that had a love dazed grin on them. “Oh, would you look at that!” Both babies were asleep, each having a nipple hanging out of their mouths, completely milk drunk.

They couldn’t let them sleep without burping them, so their little stomach wouldn’t get upset from the excess air. The buck was about to get up to put the babies into the nursery, when Y/N spoke, still snuggling both babies into her arms. “Can you please bring the crib beside our bed? Please, I cannot bear to be away from them.” She said, using her doe eyes.

His eyes softened even more, his mate’s wishes were his commands.

With a snap of his fingers, two bassinets appeared in front of their bed. “Good night, my tiny fawns.” Y/N pressed one more kiss to the foreheads before handing them to Alastor. Once they were bundled up and fast asleep, he leaned into the bassinets and planted kisses on each faces.

He fluffed himself beside his love and she nuzzled herself into him with a purr. “Rest up now, my love. You did so amazing, but you need to let your body rest.”

“I know.” She mumbled, half asleep and snuggled into him completely.

He couldn’t help falling asleep with a big smile on his face. No one in hell beside his little family knew that the Radio Demon never felt happier.

“Lyra, it’s impossible that Y/N was unaware that she was having twins!”

Hold my beer.

Jokes aside, I hope you liked it! And I want to say that the support I got for these series really means a lot to me, so thank you<3

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fayes-fics · 17 days ago

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Lessons In Roleplay

Lessons Series Masterpost

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)

Summary: The boys roleplay dastardly highwayman and rescuer.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, d/s dynamics, roleplay, CNC play, gunplay, slightly rough vaginal sex, dirty talk, cuckolding play, mention of breeding, oral sex (f to m), blow job, spitroast, orgasms, aftercare.

Word Count: 4.8k

Authors Note: This is a request fill for the amazing @colettebronte, asking for some roleplay in the Lessons universe. How could I say no to that? She chose which role the boys would play. Beta read by the amazing @sorryallonsy. Gif by @captainbucky-yt. The image is not particularly relevant to the story, but they both look delicious. Enjoy! <3

“Do you really think a highwayman might have seen us?” you query, your head resting on Anthony’s chest as he strokes your hair idly. “Yesterday, in the carriage,” you clarify as Benedict lifts his head from your belly and shoots you a querying eyebrow.

You are all lying together, entwined in post-coital bliss, under a large oak on their country estate on a beautiful summer day. The day after your eventful carriage ride here with them.

Anthony’s responding chuckle vibrates under you. “Tis possible, my sweet girl,” he opines lazily, using his other hand to shield his eyes from the sun cutting through the leaves above.

Your thoughtful mien has Benedict pushing up onto his hands and hovering over you, his hazy eyes observing you with a knowing quirk on his lips.

“I think our girl likes that idea,” he intuits, always correct in his ability to read you.

“I would prefer one of you be my robber, not a stranger,” you confess, smiling when they grab one of your hands each.

“If that is what the lady wishes….perhaps such a thing can be arranged,” Benedict opines silkily, lacing your fingers with his. “Can it not, brother?”

“What are you thinking?” Anthony hums, bringing your hand to his face.

“Perhaps the old phaeton in the stable can be put to good use?” Benedict suggests, lowering himself to kiss down your ribs. “I do not see why we could not steal away somewhere within the grounds and make our sweet girl's wish come true. One of us can play the dastardly highwayman lurking by the roadside as she rides by…” he trails off, getting distracted by the softness of your skin, dropping kisses onto your belly now.

“...And one of you could play my rescuer who draws up upon horseback?” you supply, a little breathless at the images already tumbling through your mind as their lips trace over your skin.

They both chuckle at that, Anthony dropping a kiss on your forehead and Benedict onto your hipbone.

“I am more than certain that could be arranged,” Anthony confirms, an admiring twinkle in his eye as you twist to look up at him. “This evening, in fact…”

“But which would you be, my lord?”

“What do you want of me, my girl? Do you want me to be the gallant hero?” he questions, his fingers tracing your cupid’s bow before sliding between your lips; his fingers still tart with your arousal as he presses upon your tongue. “Or the man who will hold you up? Whose demands you will need to submit to? To plead to spare your life?”

“The latter,” your reply muffled around his questing fingers, a frisson low in your belly that he may fuck you by the roadside in the dead of night.

“Then I shall ride in to rescue you,” Benedict affirms, his fingers flexing between yours as you now look down at him, his chin resting low upon your stomach.

“But not too soon…” you appeal with a wink, “and I think my rescuer should help me with my pleasure too, no?”

They both laugh knowingly at that.

“Your wish is my command….” Benedict offers, nudging this nose into your belly, which now fizzes with excitement about the night ahead.

—

You dress in a delicate cerulean blue silk gown that clings like liquid satin to your bare skin, foregoing any underwear, as is so often your preference when playing with your boys. Your outfit is topped off with sparkling sapphires and diamonds draped around your neck and wrists, no doubt priceless heirlooms from the vault Anthony holds on the property.

The hallway clock softly chimes midnight just as you steal out of the servant's entrance, meeting Benedict in the courtyard by the stables, already standing ready with a horse and a small, buggy-type carriage.

“You look beautiful,” he remarks, flattery just falling from him as ever. “I assume you know how to steer a phaeton?” he checks as you draw up to him, the moonlight throwing his face into handsome relief.

You nod, and he moves aside to assist you in climbing into the simple open-top carriage with an exchange of smiles.

“You remember where to go, correct?” His voice is soft as he hands you the reins.

“Down past the lake, take the left fork, follow the hedgerow until the thicket of trees,” you parrot the agreed directions from earlier. You can only assume Anthony is already lying in wait for you there.

Benedict nods, and then his demeanour changes, leaning in, a hand curling around your neck.

“Be careful out there, my sweet. Highwaymen may lurk,” he warns, slipping effortlessly into his heroic character.

“Perhaps a kiss for good luck upon my journey…. ?” you coquette, enjoying the way his pupils dilate.

He sweeps you into an all-consuming kiss that makes your heart pound and your body tingle, his tongue warm and insistent over yours.

“Good luck, my fair lady,” he exhales as you part, taking a step back to bow with a flourish.

You giggle and shake the reins to take off, elated your evening adventure has begun.

—

It is less than five minutes later when you arrive at a copse of trees, the bright new moon illuminating the fields around you as you slip under the shadows of the mighty oaks on either side of the track.

“STAND AND DELIVER!!”

A loud, clear voice rings out as you slow your horse to a stop, belly aflutter with anticipation. Emerging from behind a tree is a tall figure dressed in a black shirt and trousers, and as he draws nearer, you see a familiar, handsome face disguised behind a simple black mask.

Anthony.

You gasp as his leather-gloved hand draws a gun from his waistband and points it at you, blood running hot at his complete commitment to the roleplay.

“I have nothing to offer you, thief!”

Your protest is exaggerated but triumphant as his gaze falls to your decolletage, swelling with each exaggerated breath, your neckline scooped intentionally low.

“Get down at once, and perhaps I will spare your life, for I know you lie,” he counters, “those jewels around your neck, I wager, are worth more than my entire house….”

In your eagerness, you stumble slightly as you climb down from the carriage, and strong hands grasp your waist and right your stance on the ground.

“Unhand me, ruffian!”

Your theatrics are met with a flicker of tacit approval across his face.

“Not until those jewels are mine, fair lady!” highwayman Anthony contends, a predatory smile that has his teeth glowing in the low light, his firm grip upon you flexing.

“Please… I'm sure you are a reasonable man,” you change tack, still heaving breaths. “I simply cannot give you these jewels. They are too precious to me. They are a gift from my love.”

Framed by the mask, his dark eyes flash possessively, and there is a slip of softness in his expression as you say such words, knowing the truth behind them.

But then his tongue pokes out, licking his incisor almost menacingly. One of his hands bands behind your back, yanking you flush against his firm body.

“Do you really think you are in any position to negotiate, my fair lady?” he withers.

Your heart quickens as he places the cold barrel of the gun to your temple.

“It is not loaded,” he whispers, a warmth behind your ribs as he breaks character for a split second of reassurance before his expression is back to flinty.

“Please….” you implore.

He ignores you, crowding you backwards into the side of the carriage, the shiny lacquered wood of the wheel spokes digging into your spine. Once trapped, the hand around your waist moves to grasp your necklace, his leather glove cold on your breastbone.

“Take this off, or I will,” he orders; it’s a resonant threat that vibrates right into your body.

“Then you shall have to, for I will not!” you spit out, struggling against him for good measure, wanting nothing more than for him to rip the jewels from your body. And then your dress.

Just as promised, he is a little rough as he manhandles you, spinning you around so your breasts are pressed into the side of the phaeton, the unmistakable heat of his arousal on your tailbone as he leans into you.

He yanks off his gloves with his teeth and brushes your hair aside, unclasping the necklace and slowly tugging one end so it falls off behind you. A frisson runs the length of your spine as his bare fingers trail down slowly over both of your arms to your wrists and flick open the hinges on the bangles there, removing them too.

“These jewels are beautiful, my lady,” he concedes, pocketing them, “but I demand more…”

“Please, brute, you have taken all I can give you!”

“Oh, but that is not true…” he rumbles hotly into the nape of your neck.

You gasp as a hand cups between your legs through your thin dress.

“Your greatest treasure is the only one I cannot take with me….”

He ruts himself into you, intent unmistakable, as his fingers curl into the fabric. The softness of the silk over your already throbbing clit has you biting your lip.

“No, please, let me go…”

You amp up your performance, pushing back into him, looking over your shoulder with a fiery challenge that belies your words.

“I demand satisfaction!”

With that, he kicks your feet apart, rucking up your dress until you feel the cool night air swirling around your buttocks and between your legs. Then there is a pause as his hand travels up your naked flesh, a hungry noise escaping his lips as he buries his nose into your hair,

“Perhaps I misjudged…” he rasps, words huffing warm over your scalp. “No stockings. Nor underwear. You are far from a lady….”

“How dare you!”

You struggle again in his grip, loving the way his hold gets more insistent, moaning loudly as his fingers curl into your folds, already leaking profusely from the moment he emerged from the trees.

“Shut up,” he gruffs, dropping the gun into the carriage in front of you. “The more you struggle, the more I will take.”

This play already has you desperate for him, blood boiling with pure want as his fingers tease your clit.

“No, you beast, I shall not give in…”

Your objection sharpens his resolve, the wool of his trousers chafing the back of your thighs as he rapidly yanks open his britches one-handed.

Your cry echoes around the tree canopy as his rigid cock roughly ploughs into your pussy from behind, the force rocking you up onto your tiptoes. The sheer stretching invasion has you grabbing the carriage for leverage, wanting to voice your approval but too committed to the role you inhabit to allow yourself.

“Please, mister, no!”

You twist to meet his eye, silently begging for him to go fast and hard, take you mercilessly as you pretend this is not every wish you had for this night. Loving the feel of his fingertips curling around the crest of your hips, readying to take you hard.

And then he does—pulling out almost entirely, then ploughing back into you harshly. Immediately setting a nearly punishing rhythm, the dirt beneath your silk shoes crunching under your foot as you rock with his motions, you calling out loudly with each jolt.

“Quiet, or I will spank you,” he warns, his face wild, even obscured behind his mask.

That’s an open invitation you are not going to refuse.

“Stop!” you yell, goadingly.

There is a stinging slap across your buttock that has you lurching, your head lolling down, a huge, unseen smile claiming your lips, little sparks of fire radiating from the point of contact, a beeline right for your clit.

“No more!” you pant, staring at the ground and rocking back into his snapped thrusts, wrenching a moan from you with every move, his cock a delicious heavy weight cleaving you open, as it always is. You could never tire of this feeling, when he takes you so hard you can only cling on for dear life.

“All I heard is more, fair lady,” he laughs darkly and spanks again, your other cheek this time, a matching handprint you feel glowing.

You pitch forward and teeth the carriage as he fucks you. His moves are harsh, grunting with each thrust. You bite down, knowing the dental imprint you leave will be a great source of pride for him, a lasting memento of just how untamed he can make you.

“Tell me you want this!” He demands, grabbing your throat and yanking you backwards, your spine flush to his front, speared deep onto his cock as he stills.

“Never!”

His hand spanks you again so forcefully your eyes roll back. He withdraws slowly, then thrusts up so deep your toes leave the ground, him supporting all of your weight. It’s always so wonderful to feel like a rag doll in his arms when he is like this, speared open, utterly malleable to his onslaught.

Suddenly, movement catches the corner of your vision, and you look askance to see Benedict approaching, shirt billowing in the wind as he rides his galloping horse majestically across the moonlit field toward you. His horse whinnies as he dismounts in an athletic leap, bounding towards you.

“UNHAND HER AT ONCE!”

His voice is a bellow the likes of which you have never heard from his before. It makes you clench reflexively around his brother’s cock, and you wonder how much jealousy is behind the following line that Anthony sneers.

“It appears you have a rescuer, my lady. How entertaining. Who is he?” Anthony demands, spinning you around to face Benedict while still buried inside you.

“My husband,” you improvise provocatively, pushing back into Anthony.

It’s not something you had discussed with them for the roleplay, merely that Benedict would be your rescuer. But the look of unbridled desire that engulfs his face as you bestow him as such for this scene makes your lungs catch, his whole body puffing out with pride.

“Get. Your. Hands. Off. My. Wife.”

Each word is its own sentence, his voice dripping with possession and intent, inhabiting outrage so perfectly.

“Too late,” Anthony snarls back. “I am already inside her, and she is thoroughly enjoying it. Her smart mouth may protest, but she is positively flooding over me.”

That triumphant verbal swipe makes you stutter. Evidently, Anthony has been taking notes from his poetic, dirty-talking younger brother, who stands before you now, a quake in his being that could be a husband’s rage, but you know to be pent-up desire—his gaze trained on your exposed lower half.

“Wrong…” Benedict growls, taking a large step forward, pressing into your front so you are sandwiched between them. Your very favourite place to be. “She may be drenched, but you are not the cause, merely the beneficiary.”

Benedict’s sizeable right hand curls into the hair at the nape of your neck as he stakes his claim on you with his words and deeds: drawing you into a plundering kiss, the outline of his cock growing harder, pressing hot into your belly, before he breaks away to continue speaking.

“She is my obedient little one,” he proclaims, cupping your jaw to make you stare up at him, even as Anthony’s cock rocks deeper into your pussy, challenging his claim. “As soon as she so much as scents me in her periphery, she is dripping down to her dainty ankles. And that is why she is mine. My wife.”

Benedict’s resonant cadence vibrates your chest and has you swaying, desperate for him as well. You feel Anthony twist a fraction to grab something from the carriage behind him, still rock hard inside you.

“Do you forget, Sir, who has the true weapon here? Anthony challenges.

The cold barrel of the gun is pressed to your temple again.

You mouth the words not loaded to Benedict, and he responds in kind, I know, before stepping back and holding his hands up in faux capitulation.

“Please,” Benedict changes tack, “take our jewels, but please do not harm my wife…”

You are enthralled by this—the planning they must have done together to execute this and how effortlessly they both inhabit their characters. A collaboration that speaks to their growing acceptance of each other as equals in this dynamic. Even though you can see the lines blurring as they goad each other within the roleplay, spectres of their past power dynamic, where Anthony would taunt Benedict with you, setting rules that always gave him the upper hand.

“I have already ruined her,” Anthony smirks, thrusting once for good measure and making you moan before stilling again. “But I shall offer you a deal…”

“Anything…” Benedict pleads, utterly convincing now as the distressed, cuckolded husband.

“You may watch me fuck her, plant my seed in her, and I will be happy to leave empty-handed.”

“Or…?” Benedict prompts, sensing an alternative.

“You may join me in taking her. I will not seed her, but I will depart with every single one of your jewels,” Anthony declares, nodding to Benedict’s ring on his little finger.

“Wife…. I shall let you choose.” Benedict's eyes scoot to you, still embodying his role, but his gaze pleading to let him in on the fun.

Silently, you hold out your hand to him, inviting him in. He takes it, bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles briefly in reassurance.

“You have a deal, highwayman,” Benedict concedes to Anthony, pointedly removing his signet ring and handing it over your shoulder.

Anthony pulls out of you, making you whine at the loss, a droplet of wetness trickling down your thigh as he spins you around to face him.

“I think your wife should be naked, would you not agree?” Anthony posits, his fingers trailing your scooped neckline to the swell of your breast as he gives an order: “Undress her for me.”

Wordlessly, you feel Benedict plucking at the buttons over your spine. As they relent, he moves to tug the slackened fabric down off your torso, and the blue silk flutters to the ground, a shiver running over your skin as a cool breeze swirls around your naked body.

Anthony sucks in a breath, taking a half-step back, his eyes raking covetously over your naked skin.

“You permit your wife to parade in public without any undergarments?” he chides, his tone dripping with judgment.

“Permit her?” Benedict chuckles, bemused.

You inhale sharply as he wraps an arm around you, hauling you snugly backwards into his frame, his long fingers then spidering down your lower belly, right into your damp slit.

“I veritably insist upon it,” he gloats. “And she is more than keen…”

His teeth catch your earlobe as you whimper and writhe on his touch, little sparks of pleasure pinging around your body.

“Always so ready for me, are you not, my darling wife?”

You twist to meet his gaze as you nod obediently, and he rewards you with a crooked smile and a light pinch to your engorged clit that makes you cry out for him, punctuating his point. You yearn for him to take you roughly, needing this husband version he plays so well to claim you as his.

“You are a lucky man, betrothed to such an eager little vixen,” Anthony concedes, staring you down, provocatively wiping his lip with his thumb, hunger barely contained as he watches you ride his brother's fingers. “Perhaps she can lick clean the mess she made of me while you take your pleasure?” he adds casually.

“I will do it,” you volunteer brightly, almost preemptively, and far too enthusiastically for being held ‘hostage’.

“Come now, sweet girl, at least try to act as if you are mildly perturbed by our predicament…” Benedict deadpans genially, his fingers stilling as he breaks character, and Anthony chuckles, looking equally entertained by your outburst.

“Sorry…” you whisper over a giggle, and it earns you a quick kiss on the cheek from both of them, their eyes glittering with amusement. “Please continue…”

Benedict slides his fingers out from between your legs, you whining from the loss. But you soon quieten as you realise he is unbuttoning his trousers, knuckles brushing your bottom as he peels them open just enough to free himself, veritably pulsing for the promise of his cock too.

“Bend over and suckle him, wife,” he orders, back in his role, knowing how much you adore detailed filthy instruction from him.

“Yes, husband,” you demure, lowering yourself as requested, widening your stance as you do so—a blatant invitation for him to take you.

“What an excellent, obedient thing,” Anthony observes, his hand gliding into your hair as you peel his trousers open further, pressing your face into his crotch before sucking his tip between your lips, glazed with your arousal.

“She’s a wonder,” Benedict concurs.

Anthony’s fingers flex on your scalp, and his thumb rounds your jaw to pull down your chin, opening you wider. He thrusts into your mouth; your hands cling to his muscular thighs as his tip nudges the roof of your mouth, tongue pressed into his underside.

He groans loudly, your tastebuds flooded with your tart juices and a bead of his salty precum. He withdraws then drives back in, nudging deeper this time, knowing it always makes you mindless, his grip solid on your head as he starts to fuck into your mouth. It has you squirming with supplicant need, begging Benedict silently for his cock, too, as he teases your slit, grinding his head over your clit.

Your call is entirely muffled around Anthony as Benedict finally takes pity on you, thrusting deep into your pussy, in one rapid, forceful move. Both ends of your body are utterly invaded, one of your favourite places to be, a carnal loop of pleasure that only they can provide. Anthony’s hands are heavy on your scalp as Benedict's grasp your hips almost punishingly tight—something so thrilling about you being bent over entirely naked between their clothed bodies. They work together to ensure maximum pleasure for you, intuiting your needs, Anthony withdrawing just as you need to draw breath but always keeping you singing with need, his cock something to muffle your noises, to suckle upon as they both drive you higher.

You sag into their hold, relying on them to keep you balanced, pliant to the push and pull of your being between these men as they use you just as you want them to. Entirely possessed by them, played expertly by both as if an instrument for all of your mutual pleasure. Always intuiting your needs, Benedict reaches down, pulling your arms backwards flush with the sides of your body, twining his fingers in yours, a possessive hold that means you have no purchase to prevent Anthony’s thrusts into your mouth.

Benedict’s pace builds slowly, his cock grinding all those places deep inside only they can reach. His thrusts that cleave you open timed perfectly, his fingers curled over the pulse point on your wrist, syncopating his movements with each beat of your heart.

Anthony groans, causing his cock to vibrate as it passes through the tight ring of your lips. The tingle has you moaning too, a call and response that notches things higher.

“I will not last,” Anthony grits out, teeth clenched, his fingernails digging into your scalp, his thrusts into your mouth urgent now, barely allowing you any reprieve.

“Do as you will…” Benedict grunts, his noises guttural as you clench around him, a vice that has him dropping your wrists, sensing how close you are, too. One of his hands grabs your hip roughly as the other ploughs into your slit, catching your swollen, throbbing clit.

He changes angle to spear deeper, harsher, and you scream around Anthony’s cock, which fills your mouth now, breathing harshly through your nose as he uses you mercilessly.

“Look at me,” Anthony commands, grabbing your head to tilt your face upwards, his cock tip grinding the roof of your mouth, your hands again on his wool trousers for leverage as you stare wide-eyed up at his handsome face, angular and determined.

“So fucking beautiful,” he croaks, his thumb rounding to blot the tear forming in the corner of your eye from not wanting to blink.

“Better and more priceless than any jewel,” Benedict taunts, still impressively embodying his role, each word heaved over a breath, “and all mine.”

The possession with which he growls that last word, plunging harder than he ever has, is the catalyst for all of you. The vibration of your scream around Anthony’s cock as Benedict glances at your hilt is what tips him over. A heavy pulse travels up the length of his cock, and his fingernails cirls into your scalp as he comes, a salty rope splashing into your throat that you swallow reflexively as Benedict's fingers and cock send you over the edge, your vision whiting out, as your whole body convulses, strong hands bandying around you to hold you upright as your knees almost give out, everything in your snapping taut as you come so hard you swear stars dance before your eyes. With an almost howl, Benedict roughly pulls out of your convulsing pussy, a warmth splashing over your lumbar spine as you all pant loudly.

Before you are fully cognisant, strong arms pull you into an embrace. You recover, caged by Benedict, his chest warm against your spine as he murmurs sweet words in your ear. In front of you, Anthony refastens his trousers, pulling the gems from his coat pocket, still impressively in character.

“I shall greatly enjoy the spoils of this evening,” he taunts, holding them up so they sparkle in the moonlight. “But, if you should ever wish to share your wife again, you know where to find me…”

“How do you know I will not tell others of your location? Force you to move your despicable, criminal activities elsewhere?” Benedict counters as you drowsily enjoy their little theatrical, continuing purely for your amusement.

“Because of the way your wife is looking at me…” Anthony crows, stepping forward again to run a finger over your chin and swollen, darkened lips as he repockets the loot. “As if she wishes to ride away with me as much as she wishes to remain with you.”

He draws you in for a fierce, possessive kiss, you gasping heavily, pliant under his invasion, still dazed from your orgasm.

“Perhaps one day, if you are a good little thing for me, you could even earn your jewels back…” Anthony contends. “Until then, I bid you adieu…” he signs off, bowing, then turning heel and disappearing into the night.

—

A few minutes later, Anthony saunters back from bridling the additional horse onto the phaeton. Himself again, the roleplay scene over.

“Our poor girl cannot wear this; 'tis too caked in dirt and mud now,” he rues, no trace of the menacing highwayman to be found in his tone as he scoops your trampled dress up from the dirt track.

“We will just have to keep her warm for the ride back, brother,” Benedict advocates.

Anthony hums in agreement, chivalrously whipping off his shirt and helping you into it with affectionate kisses. After a quiet spell in their joint embrace - always your favourite place to recover from such vigorous adventures - they both tenderly assist you up into the carriage, arranging you snugly between them upon the simple bench seat. Both wrap their free arm around you as they grab a horse rein each. You burrow into their comforting presence as the carriage trundles away at a leisurely pace.

“Did you enjoy our roleplay, my girl?” Anthony checks, tone laden with affection, as Benedict turns to kiss your forehead tenderly.

“Yes, you were both so wonderful, exactly as I had hoped and more. Thank you,” you sigh contentedly, nuzzling into them both in turn.

“I cannot wait to hear of your other fantasies, sweet girl. I assume you have many more,” Benedict guesses, accurate as always.

“I am rather taken by the idea of adventure on the high seas with two swashbuckling buccaneers…” you confess, even as you have to stifle a yawn, the sway of the carriage and their warmth soporific.

“Well, after you have had some good rest, my darling girl, perhaps I will seek out our grandfather’s cutlass…” Anthony offers as he laughs genially.

You perk up, and your head pings between them. “Is that a promise?”

“Most definitely,” they answer in unison, two pairs of amused, sparkling eyes meeting yours as the beauty of Aubrey Hall hones into view in your periphery.

You cannot wait.

Anthony & Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23

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