#BUCKLE YOURSELF THE FUCK IN FOR AN ANSWER YOU DID NOT ASK FOR BECAUSE THIS IS A R I D E AND I NEED TO YELL ABOUT IT I CAN’T MY GOD I CANNOT

[ssbb-22]

Title: Bound To You

Part 14

The sun filtered through the curtains, warm and gentle, but the air between you and Jungkook was anything but warm and gentle.

You slipped out of bed quietly, ignoring the soft groan he let out as he reached for you in his half-asleep state. Normally, you would have smiled, kissed his forehead, whispered “Five more minutes, Kook.”

Not today.

You walked straight to the crib and lifted your baby girl, cradling her against your chest. Her little hand brushed your cheek as if sensing your sadness, and you forced a smile for her.

Behind you, the sheets rustled.

“Baby…” Jungkook’s voice was groggy, rough from sleep—and last night. “Come back to bed.”

You didn’t answer. You adjusted the baby’s onesie and walked toward the nursery without looking at him.

“Y/N?” His tone sharpened, waking fully now. “Talk to me.”

Still nothing.

You heard his footsteps behind you, felt his presence like a shadow when you reached the nursery and laid your daughter gently in her bassinet. When you turned, Jungkook was standing in the doorway—barefoot, sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair a mess.

But his eyes… they weren’t angry anymore. They were desperate.

“Why aren’t you looking at me?” he asked quietly, voice breaking a little.

You finally met his gaze, and what he saw there made his stomach drop. You weren’t angry. You weren’t yelling. You were… cold.

-

“You hurt me last night,” you said softly, each word sharp enough to cut.

Jungkook flinched like you’d slapped him. “Baby—”

“No.” Your voice was steady, even as your throat burned. “You accused me of things I would never do. You said… I should’ve married someone else.”

His chest heaved, panic clawing up his spine. “I didn’t mean that—I swear to God, I didn’t—”

“Then why, Jungkook?” Your voice cracked now, tears blurring your vision. “Why would you even think that?”

He froze. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Because—”

“Because what?” you whispered, fists trembling at your sides.

His jaw clenched so hard it ached. He couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t admit he’d let someone else’s words poison him. Couldn’t admit he doubted you—his first, his only.

But then… you said the thing that ripped him apart.

“Do you really think I’d ever look at anyone else? After everything?”

Jungkook’s knees almost buckled. His voice broke as he stepped toward you slowly, like you were glass about to shatter. “No. God, no. I know you wouldn’t—I just—”

Your eyes flicked down to the nightstand. To his phone. “Then why is someone texting you about me being ‘too close’ to Taehyung?”

His world stopped.

Jungkook’s blood ran cold. “You… you saw that?”

“Yes.” Your chin lifted, tears spilling freely now. “So tell me, Jungkook. Was last night about me… or about that words in your head?”

Silence.

The weight of it crushed him. His throat worked, but no sound came out. He wanted to scream. To rip Hana out of this world for what she did. To rip himself apart for letting her get to him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, cracking like dry earth. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You stared at him, arms wrapped around yourself like a shield.

“I let someone mess with my head,” he confessed, eyes glassy with guilt. “But I swear to you, Y/N, I didn’t believe it—I just… I snapped. I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” you whispered.

He swallowed hard. Then the words tumbled out, broken and bare:

“Of losing you.”

He dropped to his knees right there on the nursery floor, gripping your thighs like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline. His forehead pressed to your stomach, shoulders trembling.

“Please,” he choked out. “Don’t pull away from me. Don’t stop loving me. I can’t—I can’t fucking breathe without you.”

Your hand hovered in the air before finally sinking into his hair. He sobbed quietly against you, and your own tears fell into his messy strands.

“Jungkook…” you whispered.

“I’ll fix this,” he swore, voice hoarse. “I’ll make it right. I'm so so sorry I hurt you again.”

You held him tighter now, because no matter how much he scared you last night, no matter how much his words cut… he was still the man you vowed to love in every lifetime.

And God help you—you still did.

Part 15

[crossbackpoke-check]

about to be sooo nosy so. my apologies. but. morgan frost? girlfriend? do share (or don’t! again this is so nosy i’m sorry)

for legal purposes i can neither confirm nor deny anything about morgan and his girlfriend but afaik i think he’s single right now? at one point (within the past four years 😭) he did for sure have a girlfriend and that is the extent of my wag knowledge

[rueharley]

°°°°°°°°°°° "Like... How Rough?"°°°°°°°°°°°

Rafe cameron x sweetheart reader

° Rafe doesn't know why he can't satisfy his girl, shy reader has to confess that she's into the rougher side of things.

MDNI

Part two here

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The sunlight reached through the double glazed windows of your apartment, drawing bright shapes that decorated your bedroom.

Your boyfriend Rafe sat on the edge of your bed, his eyes slightly shadowed as he breached a rather sensitive topic.

Your sexual satisfaction.

You busied yourself with pulling on your jeans, but you couldn't quite escape Rafes line of vision - and it burned into you.

It burned because his girls satisfaction was a big contributor to his ego. He wanted you to feel fully pleasured. To have your desires and lust respected and endulged.

But because of last night, and almost every single time prior that he's made love to you, he feels he's... Lacking in fulfilling your appitite.

He feels he can't please you in the bedroom, and that cuts him right where it's vital. That you've been pretending to enjoy it, hell, how many times have you faked it?

His ego - his heart - cannot take it anymore. Beyond it all, he's ashamed that the girl he calls his, is unsatisfied.

"How many times have you faked it?" His voice was sharp, assaulting the the air as he demanded you to answer.

You almost stumbled, but instead your hand hovered near your belt buckle that you were about to tighten.

"Sorry?"

You heard him the first time, you definitely understood the question that he was asking. But you just needed a moment to think because he's never asked anything like this before and you could tell that he wasn't playing around.

"How many fucking times did you fake an orgasm while I was fucking you."

The question sent chills down your spine because it wasn't a question - it was a statement. It was an accusation that demonstrated how hurt, apologetic, and embarrassed he felt.

But you too felt embarrassed, because you have, in all honesty, faked it a few times.

"I didn't-... I don't-" your words were faltering, you looked like the epitome of a liar as you fumbled your way through your sentence.

"I like having sex with you, rafe." you finally opted for. Which was true. Honest to God it was true.

"You don't fucking act like it." Rafes voice was low, it was bordering on a sulk if he wasn't so offended by all this.

"I do like it..." you insist, fiddling with your hands nervously.

"you faked it last night didn't you?"

His words were low, his icy blue eyes colder than usual, but he still looked at you like he wanted something from you, beyond the answer.

Your words felt like they could start a war, felt like they were capable of that.

So with all the grace, love, and care that you possess, you navigate the answer.

"Yes.. I did. I faked it last night, but having sex with you is beyond just the satisfaction. Just being that close and held in that way from you is satisfactory enough."

As your sentence finishes and you looked into his eyes, you could notice both relief and frustration. You knew it was a difficult thing to have to confess, let alone hear.

"Aight, but sweet as all that is, it's not good enough for me."

"what do you mean?"

"Baby, why on earth can I not satisfy you, and why do you pretend that I do, hm? We gotta work this out."

"it's not like that-"

"What is it you don't like? Don't like what I'm sayin'..? Don't like how rough I am? What is it that I'm not doing?"

You felt your cheeks blushing at the slightly sexual nature of his questions. He could be so forward with these things and forget how shy your nature was - but then again this was very important to him.

You mumble an answer, half hoping that he wouldn't hear you. That all this will go away and dissappear so that you could save your blushes and your embarrassment. But it won't, and you can't hide under mumbled sentences and silences for long.

"What was that, baby?"

The question made your stomach turn. How in heaven are you going to explain to him that you liked it rough. That his sweetheart, the sweetheart that is too afraid to speak in front of groups, too afraid to have this conversation with him, wants to be railed in a hardcore way.

It made you feel uncomfortable, and it made you hate yourself.

"Talk to me, baby." Rafes voice dragged you from your thoughts and back into his eyes. His relaxed body continued to watch yours, expectantly, curiously.

Parting your lips, you endeavoured to start a sentence, "..I find that rough-"

You cut yourself off, the words felt like coughing up a razor. You hated yourself for ever having a preference for this type of sex - even if you couldn't really help it.

"You don't like me going so rough, that's okay baby. I'll take it very slow-"

"No, that's not what I meant.."

You huffed. Whenever you had sex, he never treated you roughly, and it would surprise him that the problem was that he was going too soft.

"I would prefer it a bit.. More... Rougher." the words tried to climb back into your throat like some nocturnal rodant, but to no avail.

Rafes head tilted to the side as he registered your words. His mind trying to process the fact that his shy, delicate girlfriend wasn't pleasured during sex because he wasn't rough enough.

"you want me to be rougher?" he asked, his voice low. Trying to fully understand what it was that you were saying.

"Yeah.." you say, your voice was light.

An agonising amount of silence passed where he simply kept his gaze on you. His eyebrows slightly furrowed as he processed this information.

Finally he spoke, "Like.. How rough..?"

"I don't know, Rafe. Just.. Forget it." you huff, yielding from this unbearable tension that was in the room.

You didn't want to feel so embarrassed any more, didn't want to feel so exposed. It wasn't his fault - he was just confused - and you, you were just feeling humiliated.

You turned to leave, but you were suddenly pushed against the wall, your back hitting it as your hands were pinned above your head.

"Like hell I'm going to forget it." growled Rafe, who was inches from your face, his eyes watching yours with so much arousal it made your legs feel weak.

"I''m going to fuck you like you've never had it before. I'm going to make sure to make up for all the times you never felt satisfied. You're going to forget how to ever fake it again."

You part your lips to speak, but nothing came out.

"And when I'm done.." Rafes dark voice spoke in your ear, "we are going to do it all over again."

[luludeluluramblings]

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family Part Three

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five

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A/N: Sorry for the delay. My motivation fled for a bit and exhaustion hit me hard right before thanksgiving. I had to buckle down and just finish this.

A/N: I really wanna answer all my ask, there’s some things in there that y’all have sent me that I want to do for an AU of this. There’s just so many ideas I wanna try.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Warnings: Yandere themes, possible non-con (I only say possible, because Reader was drunk when consenting), fem!reader, possible violence towards Jason, my own made up headcanons.

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When you told Stephanie you were going to find out the gender of your little bean, you weren’t exactly surprised she wanted to have a gender reveal party. Though you did talk her out of the party aspect. You loved your friends, but you hadn’t told them about your pregnancy. Mostly because you knew they’d either accidentally spill the beans about said bean to someone they shouldn’t or they’d freak out and pester you about the unknown father.

It’s a shame you can only faintly remember dark hair, loving touches, and the heat from that night. You’d like to at least thank the man for giving you such gift. Even if said gift was making you throw up nearly every morning, constantly tired, and craving the oddest things with heartburn to follow.

Overall, things were going.

That was it. Things where just going. You were still looking for an apartment, but you were getting sidetracked a bit by nurseries. You knew you would love your child regardless of what they are or who they are. But, the little swan lake nursery was precious and the air plane nursery was darling. Both made you cry and change your mind on apartments at least six times. Hormones did not help with house hunting.

But, the day came. You went to your ultrasound and had them put the gender in an envelop to give to Stephanie for her to plan your day. You had to fight yourself from peaking at the paper, but, still, you waited the three extra days until you would find out the big reveal.

Unfortunately, Jason fucking ruined it.

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Jason had been poking around the fridge. It was common for him to dig around the manor for food when he was there. Bruce was rich and groceries were expensive. (If he was looking for some of the princess’s cooking? That was his business.) But, he spotted something that stood out from the usual expensive organic fruits and vegetables and occasional meat.

“Hey, Alfred. Why is there a small cake in the fridge?" He could tell from the packaging it was from some fancy bakery. Probably one on the shiny posh side of Gotham. Which meant it would either taste like overpriced shit or absolutely delectable.

"That would be the young Miss's. I believe Miss Brown purchased it as a surprise." Alfred had replied from where he was currently taking inventory of the pantry. Maintaining a well supplied stock of the after mission snacks to proper management after all. Still, he did eye Jason from where he stood with his note pad. Knowing that Jason had a slight habit of causing trouble.

"Those two have been really close lately." Jason muttered suspiciously, mentally debating on if the cake was worth it or not with Alfred watching him.

"Dick is right. You really are starting to sound like Bruce." Duke and Cassandra had been sitting at the counter. Duke, having just gotten off patrol, had been in the kitchen to refill his water. While Cass had been munching on some snacks that she had hidden from the rest of them.

"Can it, light bulb." Came Jason's snarky voice as he silently popped the lid on the much to fancy cake open and pulled it out of the fridge. Alfred to far across the kitchen to stop him. "You know… This is a pretty big cake…"

"Jason, no." Even Duke knew it was a bad idea. If you had just gotten bold enough to through tubberware at Jason, God only knew what you might do if he ate a gift you'd been given. Plus, Steph would be on everyone’s ass for it. She was stingy with her money and everyone could tell she splurged for that cake.

"I would advise against that, Master Jason. Miss Brown already informed the young Miss of the cake and I believe that they wanted to have the first slices when they got back from their outing." Alfred knew you would happily share the cake, but, while he wanted to defend your sugary gift, he knew that that cake had a secret and for once Alfred couldn't restrain himself from wanting to be the first to discover it.

That drew both Cassandra and Duke's attentions away from the crime that was about to be committed. Both curious. The two of you really had gotten close. Cass only slightly tilted her head in curiosity while Duke had been the one to speak.

"Oh, they went out?"

"For pedicures, I was told. They are due to arrive back here shortly. "

"Well, if you wait, they might- Jason! Seriously?!" Duke had looked back to watch Jason slice into the cake with a spare butter-knife. Thankfully with enough finesse to not completely ruin your cake.

"What? The princess can share her damn cake-" He defends himself, about to grab a fork when he notices Cass looking directly at Alfred. "Why are you looking at Alfred like that?"

When she says nothing, Duke and Jason look at the tearful expression of Alfred's face. "Alfie, what's wrong?"

It takes a moment for them to realize that those aren't tears of anger or sadness as Alfred tries to compose himself. It takes Duke a few seconds longer to look at the slice of cake to connect the dots with a swiftness that would put Tim's title as second greatest detective to shame.

However, the only words that stumble out of his mouth in his shock are, "Jason, that cake is blue."

"Yeah, I know. Which is weird, but it taste great. Steph picked something really fancy for princess’s taste." Jason says finally taking a bite. It was good, Steph picked a good bakery. Not as good as Princess's homemade goods, but good enough.

"NO! Jason, why would a cake be blue?" The realization of what exactly Jason just ruined filled Duke with panic. This was going to be so much worse than the tubberware if he was right. So much worse.

Even Cass was a bit confused about the massive deal with the cake. She was more interested in the joy she was reading off of Alfred since that cake had been cut. She'd never seen the man so giddy, despite the only sign of any change in him was the misty look in his eyes.

"I don't know- Oh, great. The princess has returned." The sound of excited footsteps were heard heading towards the kitchen while Duke looked at Jason with anxiousness. Even Alfred seemed to brace himself.

As soon as you and Stephanie walked in the smiles dropped from your faces.

"Jason…. Tell me you didn't…" Stephanie murmured as she glared as Jason. Inwardly, she was excited. She had guessed correctly and won her own personal bet with herself. But, she comfortingly put a hand on your arm as you stared at the blue cake you didn’t get to cut.

Just from your expression, Duke can tell he might have been right and starts looking at Jason with an expression that screams, ‘Plead for mercy, you idiot.’

Alfred, thankfully, had enough sense to come out of his joy the moment he watches you walk up to the counter and look down at the cake with a despondent expression. His words comforting as he tries to ease the budding tension. “I'm so sorry, young miss. But, on the bright side-"

"Oh, come on, princess. You and Steph weren’t going to be able eat it all. You can afford to share. Besides, you’ve been looking a little pudgy lately anyway. Really need to stop acting like you’re eating for two."

Everyone looks directly at Jason in horror at what he just said. Seeing the spark of rage in your eyes makes Alfred take a step back in caution and Cassandra warns an aghast Duke of what she sees about to go down.

“Duke, duck.”

“Where?” He says in terrified confusion before suddenly your cake is slammed directly into Jason’s face with your hands coated in frosting.

"OH SHIT!”

"MISS!"

"Are you fucking crazy?" Jason stumbles back from the velocity of the cake to his face while he tries to wipe the buttercream from his eyes as you start berating him. Throwing everything in reaching distance at him. The bowl of fruit on the counter, the snacks Cass had been eating, even a pot from the stove.

"You ruined it! You ruined it! Alfred, where's the cast iron? I'm about to knock the dumbass outta him.” You start looking for something heavy, moving to dig through the cabinets with sugary fingers that are shaking with anger.

“About time someone did…” Stephanie mutters while she hides behind the counter to hide from the onslaught.

Before you can complete your search, Jason reveals just how well he preforms under pressure. Realizing a little too late what he might have just right when your hands find the cast iron skillet and your taking a swing at him.

"Wait! Wait! I'm sorry!" He barely dodged the hit with the sudden click of the information settling into his brain.

"You about to be sorry! This is the last straw, asshole. You fuckin' ruined it." You go to take another swing at him, nearly slipping in some frosting.

Jason’s eyes go wide before he risk a skillet to the face to catch you.

"You're right! I- Put that down, you're going to hurt yourself." He struggles to pull the pan from your sticky grip, not wanting to hurt you. This isn’t something he imagined having to use all his skills and talents for, but he thanks fuck he has them.

"Don't you tell me what to fuckin' do." You snarl while trying to hit him in the throat with your fist, causing him to almost let you slip.

"Jason!" Duke shouts out, knowing how bad it’ll be if you fall.

Jason tightens his grasp on you to the point your practically immobile, trying to calm you down with apologies and a panicked tone.

"Look, I'm sorry! I didn't realize-"

"That doesn't excuse you acting like a dick." You hiss, causing him to go silent as he tries to figure out how to fix this situation.

"You're right. It doesn't. But…" he trails off, leading to an awkward moment of silence

"Dude, you suck at this." Duke says before popping his head over the counter now that the cake and kitchen utensils have ceased to be airborne. Stephanie popping up next to him to give Jason an icy glare of her own while Cass stares at her ruined snacks. Alfred sighing as he runs the bridge of his nose from the similarities between old memories and the current scenario in the kitchen.

"Shut up, twinkle twinkle." He snarls before looking down a very pissed and most likely very pregnant you with a wince. "I… I know I'm a jackass."

"Astute observation, Master Jason." Alfred mutters while he behind to search for some cleaning supplies for the buttercream incident.

"Damn, Alfred's roasting you." Duke quickly shuts up when Jason gives him a lethal glare despite your futile attempts a wiggling out of his grasp. "Shutting up now."

Eventually you stop struggling, heaving in exhaustion and pitifully fighting back tears at your ruined gender reveal.

"I… Shouldn't be acting like a such an asshole. To you, specifically. You don't deserve that and I'm sorry." Jason tries as soon as he sees your lower lip start to wobble. He knows he’s prickly, but this is a new low that he’s not proud of.

"Now, you wanna apologize?" You’re honestly too emotional to deal with this. But, it’s the fact that he’s actually trying to give a meaningful apology when hardly anyone else does that makes you listen. Even if you’re mentally tearing him to shreds with your teary eyes.

"Yes. Now, I want to apologize." He sighs, putting you down. It’s quite a sit. Him not only apologizing, but him also doing it covered in white frosting and blue cake crumbs. "I'm… I'm not going to give you a bunch of excuses. I'm a jerk. But, I'm not heartless. I took this too far."

"You took it too far when you ate my frickin' fried cornbread." Comes your deadpan tone as you cross your arms. The fabric of your hoodie moving slightly to reveal the faintest of baby bumps.

"You're still mad about- You know what, fair enough. Don't eat the pregnant chick's food. Lesson learned." He starts to say exasperatedly before changing course at your stare and realizing he needed to suck it up.

“But, in my defense, it was really good.” He pipes off quickly, as an appeasing compliment.

Judging from the way your eyes further narrow and the reigning silence, he can tell he missed the mark.

Instead he tries to change course.

"Listen, I know this won't make up for it, but… I did see some vintage baby stuff in the attic when I snooped up there once."

"Oh, you found Master Bruce's old thing." Alfred exclaims with slightly raised brows. Coming back with Clorox wipes and all sorts of other supplies for the mess you had made. (He blames Jason, however. Don’t fret, dear one.)

"Wait, pause. Did you say those were Bruce's old baby clothes?"

"Yes, Master Jason.”

“I thought those were little girl’s baby dress. They looked like something a goth Victorian child mixed with a pilgrim would wear."

“I assure you they are Master Bruce’s.”

Everyone suddenly has a collective thought and a mighty need. Cake forgotten momentarily.

"Alfred, are there pictures of him in those clothes?" You ask with barely contained mischief, all anger and sadness gone as delight fills you. Mood swings could be such a blessing and a curse.

“Why, I do believe so.” There was a hint of knowing in Alfred's tone. One that also was finding delight in the idea he knew was passing through everyone's minds.

Immediately, and with renewed vigor, your head whips to Jason.

"Help me find the pictures and get me some Jokerized fries-."

"And, throw in a foot massage." Stephanie adds before you can finish. The suggestion causing Jason's eyes to widen while Duke shudders.

"What?!"

“Eww.”

"I kinda don't want him touching my feet. Too weird." You say. Even if they do ache often your not sure you really want the guy who had made your life hell before touching you so much. Even if he was apologetic.

“Oh, thank god.” He mutters under his breath before Stephanie speaks up again.

"Then let me have one. I bought the cake and I was looking forward to it. I had to fight the temptation not to spoil the surprise."

"I feel like that was a pun." Duke mutters.

"It wasn't."

A lighter tone settles over the kitchen as Alfred starts to clean. You tried to help, feeling embarrassment at having made such a mess. But, everyone else had stepped in to pick up the slack on account for your condition as Duke called it.

"Did you ever figure it out, Cass?" You asked curiously as you sat at the counter. A bit surprised that she hadn't disappeared as soon as the whole things had started. You both had always been cordial with each other. However, you knew she preferred to be alone at times. Hence, your lack of interaction. You had assumed she would have fled by now.

"Thought you had a stomach bug. Not a baby. This is better." Comes her short response. There's a subtle hint of wonder on her face. She's gotten better at sharing her feelings with other's so it's nice to see such an expression.

"Am I the only one terrified of how calm she is after she just threw an entire cake at Jason and was about to cast iron him?" Duke says while he finishes wiping the frosting from the skillet you had wielded earlier. The question causes Alfred to chuckle when you give Duke a narrowed look yourself.

"I remember Miss Martha throwing a chair at Master Thomas when she was pregnant with Master Bruce, so this, I dare say, is quite tame."

That comment makes more than a few eyebrows to raise and Jason to let out a whistle, while also realizing that is could've been worse for him in the long run.

"Why'd she do that?"

"Bruce decided to grace the world with his presence in the middle of the night."

"Ha!"

"I always knew he had been more in the dark."

Snickers could be heard before Alfred continued to explain. It was rare he got to share such stories.

"And, Thomas made the foolish mistake of asking her if she could hold Bruce in until a more reasonable hour."

"Alfred, he was a doctor." Stephanie points out.

"In his defense. Neither had slept for that entire week from the anticipation of Master Bruce’s arrival. But, really should have kept quiet on the matter. We would still have that lovely cherry wood chair if he had."

A round of laughter could be heard. You had laughed so hard that there were tears in your eyes as you giggled your way up to the attic.

Things had been ruined, but things had gotten better. If only they could stay better.

Down in the Batcave, Tim had gotten a message in between a few of the cases he was currently working on.

"Jon and I will stop by tomorrow, my dude." He read while taking a sip of this third energy drink for that afternoon. He only nodded in acknowledgment before going back to his work.

Elsewhere, on the Kent family farm, Conner grinned excitedly at his phone before tucking it away and stretching. He'd be seeing his favorite person tomorrow. Hopefully when they saw him they'd remember the best night of their life. It was definitely his.

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A/N: As funny it would be to have Conner just be a sweet goof, I want him to be yandere for this. I struggled to include that last part to show it, but hopefully it works.

A/N: Also, this is the calm before the storm. I kinda wanna try to make it angsty next chapter. And, not gonna lie, it might be brutal. But, I wanna challenge myself so when I make an AU I can do a good job on it.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll! I had been planning on a girl for Reader, so I was a bit surprised. Might save that for the AU. Time to name pick, and if y’all want y’all can suggest nurseries. Can’t guarantee we’ll do polls for them, but it’ll still be fun.

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[scoobywrites690]

Simon who makes you ride his dick with no help when you misbehave

(Wrote this before passing out last night)

cw: Simon being a tease, mention of spanking, creampie, penetration

“Oh fuck yeah, fuckin’ bounce luvie” He growls. 

Your body slick with sweat as you desperately try to rock your hips on top of him. Thighs aching as you pull yourself up his thick cock just to slam yourself back down onto it.

“Si-ah, Si I can’t.” You whine, your voice hoarse as you cry out.

Simon had been making you bounce on top of him for a good hour now, all because you got a lil mouthy with him. Clearly it was enough in Simon’s eyes to have you bouncing up and down for hours without a break.

Your knees threatened to buckle with every pull of your hips, desperate to keep yourself moving. Your ass was already red and raw from all the times you did stop for more than a second, and you’d soon know it when you had. As the harsh slap of his massive hand colliding with the tender skin of your nice plump ass, would soon fill the room.

“I said fuckin’ bounce.” He gritted out, as he lay there on the bed without a care in the world, arms crossed behind his head as he watched the way you struggle.

His wandering eyes rake over your trembling body. The flushed tints in your skin from the constant battle of trying to keep your hips moving. The way the slick of your sweat has your body glistening when it catches the light.

As much as Simons punishes you, he himself just likes seeing you all on display, trembling and gasping for a break. And deep down he knows you like it too, otherwise he wouldn’t even think about doing it.

He knows you like being made to work for your own release, that you like his eyes wandering over you body as you struggle to keep it together, you like when his gaze gets caught on your perky little tits and how they bounce with each jerk of your body.

He knows you love it, and it’s why he does it.

Placing your hands firmly on Simon’s chest you use it to steady yourself before you’re pulling yourself up and down his fat fucking cock, every pull of your hips has your walls fluttering around him as you desperately work for the one thing you so desperately want.

“Atta girl, takin’ this cock nice and deep.” He mutters. “You gonna milk me dry, baby?” He coos.

“You gonna let me fuck you full of my cum?” He asks, already nodding his head as he knows your answer.

“Please, yes.” You pant, your body threatening to collapse as you finally come to a stop.

“Good girl, let me help you now, baby.” He says, placing his hands on your hips, digging his fingers into the fat of them. Giving himself a nice tight grip before dragging you up the length of his cock to then drop you back down.

Ramming his cock all the way in there, desperate to pump you full. As he rocks your body up and down his length, allowing your legs to catch a well needed break.

“Si-mhm Simon!” You can’t help but squeal. As he rams into your spongy walls, over and over and over again. From tip to base. Your poor pussy gushes around him as he drills into you, soaking him and the bed beneath you.

“Come on, luvie take it, that’s it fuckin’ take it.” He pants, his chest heaving as his thrust grows sloppy. His thighs tremble beneath you as he fucks up into you one last time.

His seed paints your walls as he pumps rope after rope of his white sticky cum deep inside of you, filling you to the brim. 

[innorality]

imagine fucking clark kent... mid air.

this probably—most definitely—wasn't your brightest idea.

but it's not everyday you get to fuck and fly with superman now, do you?

you had to convince him to do it. he loved you, and loved being intimate with you, but this was—and he was sure of it—one hell of a bad idea. so it took you weeks, actual weeks, of begging and convincing, talking about it, mapping out every reason why you thought this was genius.

"please, kent, please! it'll be so fun and refreshing!" you sat on his lap while he was laying down on the bed, looking up at you, shaking his head. "people will notice and see us, sweetie." you ran your hands up his chest, "if you go high up enough, they won't even see a thing!"

finally, after two weeks of not touching you (because you refused to let him do so unless it was to take you mid air), he agreed.

you were tightening your silk robe around your waist, waiting for him by the balcony. you obviously weren't wearing anything underneath it, considering the main goal was intimacy. he arrived, in his own black robe, and grabbed you firmly yet delicately by the waist.

"are you ready, pretty?" he asked, voice low and protective. your knees buckled a bit, but you nodded. "of course." and he tightened his grip around your waist before jumping up in the air, and holy shit-

you were flying.

then, you noticed his hand wonder. the hand that he hadn't used to grip you was snaking its way inside your robe, brushing against your boobs and hardened nipples, before migrating all the way down to your cunt.

"f-foreplay? mid-flight?" and he chuckled, his eyes darkening with lust. "when did we think we were gonna do it?" and before you even has half the mind to answer, you felt two of his thick fingers press against your entrance, sliding inside.

he pumped inside you and your legs felt like pudding—half from the whole flying thing, and the other half from the fact he was fingering you mercilessly just like he knows you like. his palm is slapping against your clit and your legs tremble at every impact.

"w-when are we stopping?" and he paused for a second, before giving you that grin that tells you you're knees deep in this mess. "when you cum."

the simple sentence made a moan bloom from your chest, walls clenching down on his fingers. "y'wanna cum for me, baby?" you nod, "yeah? yeah? wanna give me one before the real thing?" and his dirty talking is throwing you off the edge, white droplets of cream dribbling down to his hand as she moaned his name as loud as she could. who cares? they're in the sky.

finally, the movement comes to an alt. they stop flying, stop moving.

you're still delirious, but smiling victoriously when he undoes his robes, hard cock revealing itself for you.

you salivate and bite your lip, feeling his dick rub against your sticky folds, jumping a bit when his mushroom top bumps into your clit. "this is so..." he trails off and you finish, "filthy?" and he hums while nodding, eyes closing while he loses himself at the sensation of your wet pussy.

finally, finally, he starts pushing himself in. it's scary and surreal, the thought of fucking in mid air turning you on more than it should. you love how you can see the birds flying next to you guys and feel his big veins hitting all the right spots inside you. he's so focused, focused on not letting you fall, focused on not being too rough, focused on making you feel good.

and fuck, the adrenaline rush heightened your senses and you could feel every fucking thing.

the way his vein bulged everytime you moaned in his ear, how tightly he was holding onto you, the cold breeze caressing you exposed skin, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against you..

you were close. dangerously close.

your own hand snaked down between your legs and you rubbed your clit softly, making yourself twitch in pleasure. "f-fuck, clark!" your voice got louder and louder with every string of sweet sounds getting pulled out of between your plush lips and he couldn't get enough.

your orgasm hit you like a train.

the adrenaline and stress of falling made everything feel ten times more intense, your walls clenching rapidly around him. cream started dribbling down your hole, forming a ring around his girthy base. "oh my fucking-" was really all you could coherently say in such a situation, every other word melting with eachother.

"baby- baby, shit- yes-" you had the man of steel stuttering and drooling, the sensation of your mushy walls clamping down on him too much for the poor man. he quickly let himself go, his cum coating your insides in a thick, white and milky layer.

he gasped, breath hitching when he felt the warmth of his cum fill you up. he pulled out slowly, your name slipping out of his mouth, while still catching his breath.

the flight back home was full of panting and quick dirty jokes you threw at him to fluster him.

bonus : bruce wayne noticed superman flying up in the sky.. up.. and up... and then stopping? wait.. he's with someone.. what are those movements–oh. they're fucking. this is officially none of his business anymore.

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 What If....

You ask him to leave the uniform on? 🥵🥵🥵🥵

I am feral over this. FERAL. Literally chewing on my own arm because I need to calm down. Your prompts always get me going. I totally blame you for this. Now, I went with a little variety here. We've got Kyle in formal military dress, John coming home from deployment, Johnny returning on break for a quickie, and Simon playing out a pre discussed fantasy. Enjoy!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: established relationship, CNC, breeding, restraints, welcome home sex, quickies, formal events, semi-public sex, unprotected piv, sex in a car, dirty talk, brief knifeplay, light degradation

Word Count: 3.3k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John’s return is delayed.

He was supposed to come home to you a month ago. But it wasn’t him that notified you about his postponed reunion. Someone from SAS contacted you via the post. The envelope held a singular piece of paper. No apology. Just black ink on a white sheet with an official letterhead. John has always been good about making sure you know when he’ll return. It's something you constantly worry about.

While on a mission, you won't hear from him—this you know. But whenever he is able, John makes an effort to let you know when to expect him or if he's okay.

To not hear from him is odd, and it stirs up all sorts of emotions, pushing your brain toward any number of possibilities. Each scenario appears briefly before sliding into another. They worsen—and then you’re sick, stomach twisted into a tight knot.

That piece of paper is on the kitchen counter. Untouched—but not forgotten. It said yesterday. And yesterday, John did not return.

You’re chewing on your fingernails. Pacing. Stressing.

It's the familiar squeak of the doorknob from the front door that finally stalls your racing thoughts. All that mental energy becomes physical. You're sprinting, throwing yourself at John the moment he enters.

He chuckles—the sound is pleasant and soothing to your heart.

“Didn’t think you’d be home,” he says, drawing you close.

Your answer is to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, and seize a kiss from him that says so much. You need John to know how much you’ve missed him—how worried you’ve been.

His hands on your hips tighten, squeezing slightly as he melts under your kisses. Each one is desperate. Needy. You savor him like you’ll never know this again. John's grip on you is firm, and much stronger than you can resist. He draws you away from him—not enough to create a separation—but enough to talk.

“Slow down, love. Let me look at you.” His hands move to your face, cradling your cheeks. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," you reply. You pull him close again. "Need you." Just a murmur, hardly audible, but John hears it.

He does not resist. He gives in, accepting your love, answering every kiss and touch with one of his own. Hands roam, fingers cling, and yet you're not nearly close enough. You need him on his back with you atop him.

John breaks away, breathing heavy, lips slightly puffy from kissing you. "Bedroom."

You shake your head. "Right here,” you reply, going in for another kiss. “Uniform stays on.”

The middle of John's brow scrunches slightly in confusion, but your fingers are already looping in his belt buckles, guiding him into the living room. That brief moment of confusion morphs into a sultry smirk.

John allows you to guide, allows you to push him onto his back on the sofa. His hands never leave your body, they roam constantly even as you undo the front of his pants and shimmy them down to mid-thigh.

You have him in hand instantly, coaxing him to hardness quickly. The need for him is a driving force, positioning yourself above him, ready to impale yourself.

John's hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your center. "Your—fuck." The sound of your slickness greets him and John groans.

Placing your hands on his chest, John palms the base of his cock, lining it up. You don't slowly ease down. You drop, accepting every inch of him in one go. There is a brief flare of pain from the rapid intrusion, and then it's gone, replaced with the fullness of him inside you.

With your palms splayed wide, you're able to rock your hips, moving up and down his length in a steady movement that has both of you groaning.

"I missed you," he murmurs as you come back down on him. "Fuck—I missed you."

Your thighs start to burn with every bounce. John's fingers dig into your hips, dragging downward before ascending again. With the next roll of your hips, John meets you, thrusting up. It cuts a sharp gasp from your lips.

He grips harder, taking control. You cling to the front of his uniform, fisting the fabric as John brings you down just as he thrusts upward. It is not sweet. It is brutal and desperate. Each connection drags more pleasure out of you until your head falls back and you clench around him.

With a deep groan, John sits up, and effortlessly flips you over onto your back. Pinned beneath him, there is nowhere to go. All you can do is take what he gives.

John buries his face against your neck. "Love you so much."

You hook your heels behind his legs, urging him on. "Love you," you manage to gasp.

It is all sweat and heat. John's lips graze the line of your throat and then your chin. You turn toward him, the two of you meeting as he holds his body against yours, his release flooding your pussy.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle drapes his arm over your shoulder, tugging you against him, the noise of the function receding with every step. Usually when the two of you attend a formal function together, Kyle is in a suit, but this attendance was requested by Kyle's superior officer, Captain John Price.

Instead of a suit, Kyle wears his formal military dress. The uniform is freshly steamed and free of wrinkles. His shoes are polished to perfection. Like this, he's incredibly handsome. You've been admiring him all night, resisting the urge to touch him too much around people he works with on a regular basis.

"Can't wait to take this bloody thing off," sighs Kyle, lightly tugging on the neckline of his uniform.

You rest your head against his shoulder, savoring his warmth. "I think you look rather dashing."

"Dashing?" he laughs.

As the two of you enter the parking garage, you snag his hat, placing it on your head. Kyle's smile widens. He leans in for a kiss, greedily accepting what you offer him. Removing the car keys from his pocket, Kyle hits the button to unlock the vehicle. The SUV beeps, headlights coming on.

Kyle takes his hat back, holding it with one hand instead of putting it back on his head. He offers his mouth again and you close the distance.

"Can't wait to get that dress off you, love," he murmurs against your lips. “Been thinking about it all evening.”

You place your hand against his chest. "I think I'd like it if you leave the uniform on."

Kyle nearly chokes. "What?" he draws back slightly.

With a mischievous grin, you tug Kyle around the side of the SUV. The vehicle is in a corner spot, leaving the two of you tucked between it and a cement wall. There is no camera and no light. Both of you are hidden in shadow.

No one will notice the two of you unless they come looking.

You lean in slowly, offering your mouth. Kyle places his hand on the side of your throat, thumb slowly rubbing against the front of your neck. The kiss is honey-sweet, and tinted with seductive need. You seek another, and yet another until the two of you are gasping for air.

"Not here," murmurs Kyle, drawing back slightly.

Your hand slides downward, pausing at his belt. Kyle whispers your name, but there is no fight in it. If anything, it is lustful. Fingers toying with the belt, you kiss him again, loosening the buckle and then the front of his pants.

Reaching your hand inside, you find him hard and wanting.

"Someone will see," he groans, grabbing your wrist.

"Who will see us?" you reply softly. Kyle's gaze shifts outward to the parking garage.

"No one is around." You start to descend, opening his pants further.

Kyle's attention returns to you. His pupils expand as you take him in hand, painting your bottom lip with a pearly bead of cum. You present your glossy mouth to him, and Kyle brushes the pad of his thumb across it.

You lightly nip at that thumb, and then take him into your mouth. Kyle stifles his groan, but it comes out as a muted whimper. He gently cups the back of your head as you suck him down, hollowing your cheeks when you come back up.

This is just a tease. You want his resolve to slip.

Kyle doesn't break eye contact. He is completely focused on watching you. His dick twitches in your mouth, and Kyle grunts.

"Fuck, love. Come here."

With gentle tenderness, Kyle grasps the back of your neck, easing you off him. You extended your legs, leaning into him.

His voice is slightly husky. "I can't wait until we're home."

Kyle opens the rear passenger door and helps you up into the seat. You slide backward to the other end, Kyle following. With a hand on your throat, he pushes you onto your back. These next kisses are rough and possessive. Hungry. Claiming. You open for him, wanting to consume.

His free hand is gripping your dress, shoving it upward where it collects at your hips. Your tongue meets his the moment his fingers slip between skin and underwear. It is brief, and then he's drawing back only to bury his face between your legs.

Digging your heels into Kyle's back to stabilize yourself, you give in, moaning loudly as his tongue swirls a path up and down your sex. He teases just like you teased him. But it is short-lived.

Kyle is desperate for you. He finds your clit and stays put, tongue working quickly to send you over the edge. Your body shudders, a breathy groan escaping you as the orgasm hits. Still on your back, Kyle ascends, one hand pressed to the inside of your thigh while the other finds leverage against the car door just above your head. You lift your hips slightly, presenting your pussy to him.

He takes the hint, thrusting deep.

He does not go slowly. It is skin slapping against skin. It is all low groans and desperate fingers. His body weight keeps you pinned, and if anyone were to open door they'd have a clear view of his bare ass.

"Don't stop," you beg. "Please."

Kyle's answer is to seize your mouth, to force his air into your lungs, to firmly press his body to yours and swivel his hips, pelvis grinding against clit. Your hands fall on his ass, and then he's transformed. An animal. Rutting.

Surely, the car is shaking, but you hardly care. You only want him to finish. To give you every drop of his release.

You feel his muscles tighten under your hands, and then your bodies are sealed.

There is a small pause between then and the moment he kisses you, this time tenderly.

"So much for waiting," you tease.

Kyle’s exhalation is a pleased one. "Just wait until we get home."

John "Soap" MacTavish

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?"

Johnny's smile is devilish. "Came to see you."

"Me?" you laugh. "You just saw me this morning."

"And it wasn't nearly enough," coos Johnny, grabbing hip and waist, tugging you against him. "Missed you the whole time. Couldn't stay away."

Before you can form a reply, Johnny is lifting you up and onto the kitchen counter. He pushes everything up and out of the way, revealing your pussy to him.

"Johnny!" you exclaim.

With one hand on your thigh, Johnny uses his other hand to remove his belt and undo the front of his pants.

"I came home to fuck my wife." You instantly feel your cheeks grow hot. With a sultry smile, Johnny leans in but doesn't close the distance. "Would you like that?"

You nod. "Yes," you reply, voice nearly a whisper. "But—"

"But what?" he asks. You gesture at him. "The uniform? That stays on, love."

Guiding you wider, Johnny circles your clit with the pad of his thumb. The touch is electric, making you shiver as he toys with your sensitivity.

"Look at that," he purrs. "Look how wet and ready you are for me."

You whimper as Johnny tests your pussy with a finger.

"I think this deserves something bigger. What do you think, love?" He inserts a second and you whimper again. "Use your words."

"I want you inside me."

"I am inside you," he teases, pumping both fingers.

You shake your head, gasping as his thumb toys with your clit. "Your dick, Johnny."

"That I can do." His fingers are gone instantly, replaced with the head of his cock. He holds himself just inside, inching slowly until you've taken him to the base. "We'll have to make this quick. Can't be late and disappoint Price."

Johnny lightly swivels his hips, and then he's holding you in place, thrusting steadily. He kisses your lips, then your cheek. Resting his forehead against your temple, Johnny boxes you in, using your pussy for himself.

"You take me so well," he says softly. "Watch. Want you to watch."

Your gaze shifts downward, locking on to where your bodies meet. Keeping one hand on the countertop to stabilize yourself, you bring the other between your legs, fingers lightly playing with your clit.

"That's it," purrs Johnny. "Come for me."

A brief swirl and you're gone, squeezing hard around Johnny. He fucks you through it, grunting as he increases his pace. With a moan that claws up his throat, Johnny seals your bodies together, and his warmth floods your pussy. He thrusts lightly and stills.

A beat of silence, and then you both burst out into laughter.

"Fucking hell," he mutters, shaking his head.

"You came all this way on a break just to have sex with me?" you laugh.

Johnny leans back, grinning sheepishly. He glances down at his watch, smile fading. "Shit."

He pulls out and steps back, fumbling with his pants.

"Are you going to be late?" you ask teasingly.

Johnny tightens his belt and then helps you off the counter. With a quick kiss to the cheek, he heads out the door.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Every light in the house is off. The blinds are closed and it's completely dark except in one particular room.

The deep red glow calls out to you like a siren song. You stride toward it, moving through the hall silently like a shadow. The bedroom door stands open, revealing the blood-tinged space. From your point of view, nothing is out of place. All is calm and as it should be.

But Simon is here somewhere. Lurking. Watching.

This is what you wanted after all. An idea you passed off to Simon with the hope that he'd indulge your fantasy. Clearly, he took it to heart.

Adrenaline spikes in your blood as your gaze focuses on the bed. Attached to each corner are wrist and ankle cuffs. To be immobile and bred at Simon's pleasure is all you asked for, and here it is.

As you step forward, a large gloved hand slides over the front of your throat, squeezing. Simon is right behind you, and you feel every inch of him. Without even having to look, you know Simon is in full tactical gear. Parts of it dig into your back.

The leather of his gloves squeak as his fingers adjust against your throat. With a little pressure, he tilts your head back and you meet his whiskey-brown eyes. It's all you can see of his face. The rest is shrouded behind a balaclava.

"Do as I say," he growls. "Or you'll make this harder on yourself."

His command sends a bolt of need straight to your clit. Already, you feel a growing slickness between your thighs.

"Answer me if you understand."

"I understand," you murmur.

Simon makes a pleased sound deep in his throat. His thumb rubs a gentle line back and forth over the same spot.

His head tilts, lips pressing against your ear through the balaclava. "Then be a good little slut and get on your back."

Using his leverage on your throat, Simon lightly shoves you toward the bed. This time you turn around, facing him completely for the first time. He's dressed in all black tactical gear. Every inch of him is covered except his eyes, and his large frame fills the doorway.

When you take a step back, he takes a step forward. The backs of your thighs hit the bed, and you push yourself up and on, reclining until you're nearly horizontal. Simon saunters, gaze predatory and observing. His gloved hands hover just above your legs, pausing there before he bends slightly, reaching for an ankle cuff.

Simon glances between it and you languidly. You're not sure what his intentions are, not until he grabs your ankle with his other hand and tugs hard. You yelp, surprised, and then you kick out, attempting but failing to free yourself as Simon attaches the cuff into place.

"You said you understood," he growls, as you sit up to swing on him.

Simon snatches your wrist right out of the air. He hops onto the bed, kneeling as he grabs one of the cuffs for your wrists. Still, you fight and still you fail as he latches it in place.

You're not immobile but you're more restrained than before, movement restricted enough that you can't fight back like you want to. Not that you want to escape.

With a fluidity that surprises, Simon removes a knife from his boot and hooks it under the hem of your shirt. A sharp tug and the fabric surrenders to the blade. Simon tears it further, removing the garment completely.

As you use your one free arm to lash out, Simon is already prepared, blocking the blow and forcing it back to the bed. He attaches the cuff and returns the knife to your clothes, splitting your pants and tossing the remains aside.

You're on your back, completely naked and cuffed to the bed.

Simon's hand wraps around your throat, the knife tip dangerously close to your face. "I was going to worship your pretty pussy," he murmurs. "But I think I'll just take what I want."

It's all a game—a scene. You want Simon to use you, to fuck you ceaselessly, to do whatever the fuck he wants because he can.

Simon flips the knife and imbeds it into the bed above your head. Slowly, he removes his belt, tossing it aside. When he opens the front of his pants and eases them down a fraction, you nearly groan at the sight of his hardness. Simon palms the base of his cock.

"I won't be gentle," he says, gloved fingers pressing against your pussy.

He rubs back and forth, easing a little more from your body before grabbing your hips and slamming home. There is a brief flare of pain from the intrusion and then nothing at all except excitement.

"Your body is mine," he growls as he fucks you. "And for the next twenty-four hours, I'm going to breed this pussy until I'm satisfied."

You are unable to move, unable to do much but take it. Simon is situated between your spread legs, and you have a clear view of his cock sliding in and out of you. If you want an orgasm, Simon will have to grant it. Begging for it won't get you anywhere. You need to be good, and then he'll reward you.

Simon grunts as he thrusts, pace increasing as he nears his end. Watching him is lovely. His groan is lust-drenched, his orgasm sending a little shudder through him that you feel in your core.

Simon's gaze shifts to between your legs where he slowly pulls out. "What a fucking sweet sight," he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

His cum pools at your entrance, threatening to drip out. Soon you'll be overly full, a mess between your legs and on the bed.

Already Simon is stroking himself back to hardness. "Think that cunt of yours needs a bit more.

[rainy-day-gracie]

- wedding night -

A Venus & Mars mini series

pairing: General Acacius x virgin!wife!Reader

content warning(s): reader insert, no use of y/n, arranged marriage, implied age gap but nothing specific, oral (f recieving), fingering, loss of virginity, piv sex, innocence kink, self indulgent praise kink, Acacius definitely talks you through it, discussions of consent because consent is sexy mandatory, discussion of future sexual acts, AFTERCARE because aftercare is hot, general acacius is in loooooove but doesn't know it yet haha, romantic and intimate as hell, grievous historical inaccuracy because it's fucking fanfiction, canon divergent because duh

a/n: So guys. I saw Gladiator II and it was awesome and Pedro Pascal is the sexiest man alive (in my heart). However, this character's name is not Marcus. I don't know who lied, but we've all been fooled. So in this sequel, the general's name is just Acacius in order to stay at least a little bit true to the actual canon.

I definitely will be writing for these two again because holy shit I made this romantic and I love them so much.

Read wedding day here!

Read bloodlust here!

---

Acacius saw heaven in your eyes, a piece of salvation he never thought he might be able to grasp with his blood-stained hands.

He glanced down your body, wrapped beautifully in your white wedding gown, gold jewelry shining in warm candlelight. For a moment, he wondered Venus herself were tricking him with her immortal seduction.

But the blush of red in your cheeks, the shine of desire in your eyes, the beat of your heart in your chest....

No immortal possibly could mimic such evidence of true, temporary, and precious life.

Acacius had been with plenty women in his lifetime, had thought he understood what desire was.

I want you, you had said.

Now, he thinks he's only scratched the surface.

---

The general-- Acacius -- peered at you like a starving man at a feast, drinking you in, turning the wheels in his head of what he wanted to do first.

He grasped your hand in both of his, studying the golden band on your ring finger. Evidence of your gods-blessed union.

"I want to see you wearing nothing.... except for this," Acacius breathed, his voice low, and dreamy, like the words were slipping from him with no control.

"I'd like that very much," you said, trying to keep your hand from trembling under his touch.

"May I strip you bare, darling?" He asked, calloused fingertips fiddling with the clasp on your golden bracelet.

"Yes."

Instantly, the bracelet fell, and then the other, and then the other. Acacius' gentle touch drove you wild, methodical and sure. He stopped for a moment, glancing at the purity ring on your pinky, and smirked in a way that nearly made your knees buckle.

Glancing back up to your gaze, he held your stare as he pulled the purity ring off. His lips were a hairsbreadth away from yours, letting you smell the sweet cherry wine on his breath.

"Kiss me," you mumbled.

Acacius' smirk remained. "Patience, darling."

He tucked the purity ring into a pocket of his tunic, and turned you around, so your back pressed against his chest. A sigh caught in your throat, realizing he had turned you both to face the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom.

"Answer me honestly," he said, trailing one of his knuckles down the exposed skin of your spine. "Have you ever touched yourself?"

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you shivered at his light touch. "Uh..."

"Don't you lie to me, now. It's a great sin to lie to your husband," he whispered, his teeth nipping lightly at your ear.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I- I've touched myself. I've touched... my..."

"Your cunt?" Acacius mused.

You nodded, your chest rising heavily.

"Did you… like it? When you touched yourself?"

"N-no. I've been told it is not ladylike, to... pleasure yourself in that way."

Acacius kissed the back of your neck, making you arch into his touch. "Oh, my poor darling... there's nothing more ladylike in the world. Don't worry... I will show you how."

A full whimper escaped you at that, and Acacius undid the knots of your dress with a chuckle.

The dress fell, leaving you in only your loincloth, tied at your waist. But Acacius was looking at something else.

His eyes were transfixed on your perked breasts, his mouth slightly open as he wrapped one of his hands around the soft flesh. A high-pitched sigh left your throat, and he reached around with his other hand to take hold of the other breast.

"Do you like it when I hold you like this?" Acacius murmured, his mouth at your temple. He twitched his fingertips to pinch your nipples softly, making you close your eyes in pleasure. "Look at me."

Snapping your eyes open again, he stared you down in the mirror with a small devilish grin. He pinched your breasts again, pulling an answer from you. "Yes, Acacius."

"Good girl," he praised, your cunt throbbing at the words. He let go of your breasts, untying the cloth at your hips until you were utterly bare before him, save for your wedding ring. "Lie down on the bed, darling."

He brushed a palm over your plush backside, guiding you towards the beautiful linen bed. Plenty big for two.

You obey with a shy smile, sinking into the blankets and pillows like you were always meant to fit there. Watching from your comfortable bed, Acacius loomed over the foot, undoing buttons on his tunic, and ties on his robes.

Your lips parted slightly as he exposed the tan, scarred skin of his chest, flickering candlelight bathing him in a warm glow. He studied your expressions like a hawk, watching for any sign of discomfort or displeasure.

As he unlaced the toga and loincloth, leaving him as bare as you were, you had to keep yourself from gasping.

His cock hung heavily between his legs, not even fully aroused but still bigger than anything you had anticipated. He wrapped a hand around his manhood, smirking at your expression, but mercifully saying nothing about it.

“I am curious, my wife,” Acacius began, his voice a rumble. He pulled himself onto the marriage bed, caging you in the sheets with his arms and legs straddling. His eyes never left yours. “What did they say about me? When you learned of our union, what whispers crossed your ears?”

You licked your lips, speaking suddenly a challenge. “Um, that you w-were brave…”

Acacius leaned down, pulling one of your legs over his broad shoulders.

“…and strong…”

He mirrored the motion with your other leg, leaving your weeping cunt exposed.

“…a-and…”

Acacius paused, waiting for your answer. “And?”

“General, I shouldn’t speak ill…” you moaned, wondering if one could combust with desire.

“Tell me the truth, darling. Or you won’t get what you so eagerly want.”

“Th-they said you were cruel,” you stammered, desperately, any wall of self preservation coming down. “They said you took anything you desired, washed your hands with blood, and violence was the only language you spoke. Your rage eclipses that of Achilles, and your eyes blacken every time you raise a banner. You are of Mars himself, shedding blood like you were born to it.”

Acacius’ smirk from between your legs was wicked, and he broke your gaze for the first time since lying on the bed.

He studied your open cunt with a glazed expression, like he was lost in the pleasure of staring at your slick desire.

“If I am of Mars then you are of Venus, my darling.”

His words filled you with affection, the way his knees bent on the bed almost like he was worshiping an altar between your legs.

“So pure…” he murmured, as if the words had slipped from his lips.

Your back arched like a bow as he licked a stripe up your soaking slit, sighs escaping from your throat.

Acacius hummed with delight, fucking you on his tongue lazily, drinking your desire like nectar of the gods.

You buried your hands in his hair hesitantly, unsure of what would be pleasing to him. In all the times you eavesdropped on the married women of the court, never once had they mentioned anything like… this. Never once had they mentioned any of the overwhelming pleasure racking every limb of your body. Never once had they mentioned the lightning erupting over your skin with every brush of his calloused palm.

Acacius trailed his hands down your arched torso, cupping your breasts as his mouth traced patterns over your cunt. Your breathy moans made him chuckle into your flesh, the vibrations making you lift your hips with pleasure.

Throbbing built in your pussy, clenching around his tongue as your desire jumped at every brush of his lips.

“A-Acacius, gods…” you cried out, throwing your head back as a pinnacle raced towards you.

“Relax, my darling,” Acacius breathed, bringing one of his hands down to rest at your soft inner thigh. “I’m going to put my hands on you now.”

“Oh, please,” you begged, unsure of what it was you were begging for.

“Tell me if it becomes too much,” Acacius said, and his hand on your thigh moved.

The gentle brush of his rough fingertips on your slick folds had you gasping anew, pulling lightly on the locks of his hair.

“Such a pretty cunt,” Acacius mumbled to himself. “I have half a mind to just keep you like this.”

You whined in protest, your hips chasing his touch.

“So needy for a virgin.”

You threw your head back as his finger pushed past your slick folds, reaching spots inside of yourself that you hadn’t known existed.

“Oh, so tight, my love. You truly are pure.” Acacius curved his finger, brushing against something spongy, and sensitive. A guttural moan escaped your throat, and he laughed softly. “When the pleasure peaks, do not fight it. Let it take you away, somewhere only you and I exist.”

You nodded at his command, closing your eyes as your head sunk into the linen pillows.

Unrestrained cries erupted from you as he pulled his finger out, and in, and out again, hitting that sweet spot with every push inside of your aching cunt.

When he pressed his tongue to the bud at the top of your core, he pushed a second finger deep into your slick, making you wonder if the gods truly did become man. The stretch of his fingers pricked a pain deep within, making you clench tighter around his calloused fingertips. A slight brush of his rough facial hair against your core was your ultimate undoing.

You called out his name as the pleasure rushed down your spine, into your belly, and built in your desperate cunt. He knew it, too, and continued to thrust his fingers deep inside with renewed enthusiasm. His tongue licked against your clit with hunger, tipping you over the edge.

Cries escaped your lips as the pleasure overwhelmed you, every muscle in your body going taut as the desire took over. Your cunt clenched tightly, chasing his fingers, and your spire curved with tension as the wave of lust claimed you.

Acacius watched with a lazy smile as your core squeezed with your orgasm, evidence of your desire dripping off his lips.

“Acacius… Acacius…” you breathed as the climax subsided, your body relaxing into the bed once more.

“How do you feel, darling?” Acacius asked, crawling back up to press his nose against yours. His brown eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with adoration.

In place of an answer, you buried your hands in his curly, soft hair, pressing his lips to yours. He responded instantly, capturing your mouth with the passion of love and war.

His tongue pushed against yours, pure want seeping from every brush of his lips against yours. You gasped as his hands cupped your hips gently, like he was making sure you were a solid thing he could hold in his hands. Like he was worried you might slip through his fingers.

“I want more,” you whispered against his mouth, and he nodded with his eyes closed, like he was dreaming.

“It will hurt for a moment, but I will be gentle with you,” Acacius breathed, trailing light kisses against your throat. “Tell me when there is pain, or if you wish to stop.”

You nodded against his temple, and he pulled his lips back instantly.

“Say you want me, darling. Say you will tell me to stop if you wish.”

The intensity in those brown eyes, the desperation, had you squirming with desire once again.

You held his face in your hands, tracing your thumb against his rough stubble, studying him.

Acacius' nose was utterly Roman, looking like it had possibly been broken once or twice. Every mark on him was evidence of a man that had seen the Underworld and walked away, but not without a few scars to show for it. Though he had been nothing but gentle with you, there was no doubt he could live up to his reputation of bloodletting.

Still, you held him close.

"I want you, Acacius. I will tell you to stop if I wish to." There was no hesitation, no tremor in your voice.

He sighed in relief, reaching down to his hard cock and bringing it between your legs. You whined at the sensitive touch, and he grunted at the slickness of your folds.

"So wet for me, darling, so perfect," he moaned in your ear, guiding the soft flesh of your thighs to wrap around his hips.

Tentatively, he rubbed his cock up and down your core, getting you accustomed to the blunt feeling. You whined breathlessly, near begging for him to fuck you already.

"Patience, darling. I need to go slow to not hurt you," he mumbled.

The blunt head of his cock pushed past your sensitive folds, and you dug your nails into the strong muscles of his back.

Acacius let out a guttural groan into the heated skin of your neck. "So wet, and tight."

You called his name like a prayer, your head tossed back in pain and pleasure. Over and over again, you called his name.

"A little more, easy, easy..." Acacius moaned, pushing further into your virgin cunt.

You cried out in pinching desire. "S-so much, Acacius..."

"I know, darling. We're halfway there."

You held tight to him, his rough hands on your soft skin distracting you from the stretch of your cunt around his cock. "H-halfway?"

Acacius chuckled, holding still inside of you to let you adjust. "You feel... divine. So, so perfect, my sweet wife."

A high pitched moan escaped you as he pulled back slightly, kissing your neck as he pushed farther in. You clenched around him, and his lips on your clammy skin sent a fresh wave of lust panging though you.

But Acacius stopped, and you gasped in pain again, as if he had hit a barrier in your core he couldn't push past. You knew he could bottom out if he so wanted, but not without tearing you deeply.

Instead of pushing forward, he stayed where he was inside of you, tracing his nose along the curve of your jaw.

When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost like he didn't mean for you to hear his words.

"Do you want to know what I want, darling?"

You were too breathless to answer.

Acacius continued. "I want to fuck you so well that all of Rome hears you calling my name. I want to mark you with my mouth so you may look in the mirror and think only of me. I want fall to my knees and thank the gods that gave you to me. But for now, my darling... I want you to come on my cock with your most divine cunt."

Your cunt, as if on command, fluttered, and you moaned as he was able to fill you to the hilt without a pinch of discomfort.

"Oh, yes," Acacius whispered, his tongue darting out along your pulse point. You cried out in pleasure as he shifted inside of you, holding tight to his strong back.

"You... are... perfect, darling," he panted, thrusting slowly, in and out, in and out. "So warm, and tight..."

"Acacius, please..."

"Please... what?" Acacius teased, biting your bottom lip slightly as he pushed back into you.

"More... more," you said, digging your nails into the muscles of his shoulders.

Acacius responded in kind, chuckling at your desperation. "As my lady commands."

His thrusts into your aching cunt deepened, becoming harder as you grew needy for his strength. You tossed your head back with a high-pitched cry when he was able to hit that perfectly sensitive spot inside of you, and the reaction made him even more ravenous for you.

"Oh, you take my cock so well," Acacius praised, the words making your cunt clench around him. "So, so good, my darling."

As if he knew what you needed before you did, he pulled his chest away from yours, sitting up on his knees while thrusting into you. He looped his wide arms underneath your spread legs, angling you upwards on his thighs and pulling your hips up off of the bed. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you arched your back off the sheets with a shriek of delight.

"Acacius, Acacius," you cried out, the new angle sending him deep into your core, hitting spots you hadn't even known existed.

"That's it, say my name," Acacius said with a smirk. "Say my name when I fuck you, tell all of Rome who is making you feel this good."

You couldn't stop, the falling of his name from your lips dripping like sweet honey. All you could feel was the sweat of his skin against yours, the calloused of his hands as they gripped your soft thighs closely, and the depths of your core his cock was able to reach.

"You're going to cum for me," Acacius ordered, his words coming out in pants of breath. "You're going to cum for me, because you're a good girl. You're a good girl, aren't you? Letting me fuck her virgin cunt so nicely, such a good girl..."

At his praise, your cunt tightened around his cock, back arching like a bow. As you came, he pressed a calloused hand into the flesh above your pelvis, the pressure making your high all the more intense. You cried out his name, over and over again, the two of you becoming the only people in the world as the tidal wave of pleasure overwhelmed you.

Acacius' thrusts into your aching core sped, became less focused, and you knew he was losing control himself as you came apart underneath him. Your name fell from his lips as he pressed his hand further into the spot below your belly, where his cock seemed to bulge into his palm as your cunt pulsed around him.

"Such a good girl, such a good wife," he moaned. Only when your core could only twitch in response to his strong thrusts did he slow, leaning back over you and capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

A warmth pooled within you, evidence of his pleasure. You didn't know if you'd ever felt such an intimate connection with anyone as you did with him, his kiss burning a brand into your heart as the heat of passion faded.

Acacius pulled away after a moment, breathing heavily against your throat. "Hold still a moment," he warned. His palms pressed against your hips, his cock sliding from you with a slight sting. You followed his advice, your legs feeling weak and shaky.

You studied him as he crossed the bedchamber to the washroom, his broad back dimpling with the movement. Returning with a clean cloth and a faint smile on his lips, the dimple in his cheek made your heart swell as he saw your sprawled body on his massive bed.

"Feeling comfortable?" Acacius asked, eyebrows raised with amusement.

You nod, watching him as he crossed over to you, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips as he carefully wiped your messy core.

Breaking from your lips for a moment, he pressed his nose against yours, and you cherished the gentle, intimate gesture.

"Shall I call the servants for a hot bath?" Acacius mumbled, tossing the cloth aside.

"A hot bath sounds divine, but only if we may take one together," you reply, slightly giddy.

Acacius furrowed his brows in confusion. "What is making you laugh, my darling?"

You kissed him again, long and slow. Time stood still, and it was as if you could physically feel the bond forging between the two of you, forging in a slow burn of a crackling fire. It was warm, and easy, and comforting.

You broke away, studying him in his eyes. "You are simply... not what I expected."

Acacius smiled, that damn dimple curving in his cheek.

The most feared general on the continent.

Your husband.

Acacius kissed your forehead. "You, my darling, are everything I've been dreaming of."

---

taglist (people that asked to be tagged in part 2): @marianastudiesart @joeldjarin @fallout-girl219 @shantellorraine @lanadelslay69-420 @pedrofan

my request box is open! would love to hear y'all ideas for Joel, Acacius, Javier, or Oberyn :)

[jhyoos]

Save A Horse, Ride A Cowgirl 2

bronc abby x buckle bunny reader

mentions : modern au, cocky abby, romance, smut, strap on sex, fluff, ellie, dina and jesse mentioned

summary : abby takes the reader out on a date to the rodeo fair.

notes : part 1 <-

It had been a week since you last saw Abby—not for lack of trying, but because her schedule was packed. Between training, competitions, and whatever else a professional rodeo star did on the daily, she was constantly on the move. You’d barely gotten a glimpse of her after that night under the stars, and yeah, you were feeling the absence.

Then, out of nowhere, she found you on Instagram.

You weren’t expecting much when you clicked on her profile, but the second you did, your jaw nearly hit the floor. Over two million followers. Verified.

The Abby Anderson you met at the rodeo was already something, but this? This was next level. Scrolling through her feed, it was all action shots of her on horseback, winning competitions, and the occasional training video where she looked effortlessly cool. And, of course, thirst trap pictures—shirt slightly unbuttoned, sweat-drenched after a long day, those muscular arms flexing in ways that made your brain short-circuit.

You followed her back immediately, not expecting much, but then your phone buzzed.

ab.anderson: Hey, bunny.

That was all it took. One simple message.

Numbers were exchanged, and you started texting here and there, but Abby? Abby texted like an old man. She sent full sentences, used punctuation, and even signed some texts off with -A like she was sending an email. The sexting? Even worse.

So, to save your sanity, you resorted to FaceTiming whenever you both had the time. It was easier, and if nothing else, you got to watch her struggle with modern technology.

Then, one night after work, just like clockwork, your phone lit up with her name.

You answered, flopping onto your bed. “What’s up, cowgirl?”

Abby’s face filled the screen, and damn, she looked good—hair damp from a shower, sitting somewhere that looked like a hotel room. “Hey, bunny,” she said, her voice warm, familiar. “What are you doin’ this weekend?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why? You finally making time for me?”

Her smirk widened. “Damn right. There’s a rodeo fair in town—I wanna take you.”

Your lips parted in surprise. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go—it was just unexpected. Abby was the one always in the rodeos, so you figured she’d be too busy competing.

Before you could respond, though, a thought struck you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “Okay, but real quick—why the hell do you text like an old man? Have you heard of TikTok? They'll teach you everything you need to know.”

Abby groaned, running a hand down her face. “I don’t use my phone much, and I don’t manage my social media. My team handles all that.”

Your eyes widened in mock shock. “You have a team?” You gasped dramatically. “I’m messing around with someone famous?”

Abby laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, I guess you are,” she said, voice dripping with amusement. Then, she leaned in a little closer to the camera, her eyes gleaming. “It’s nothing, really—just the number one bronc rider in the country.”

Your jaw dropped at her blatant flex. “Oh, fuck off,” you said, laughing. “You just had to throw that in there, huh?”

Abby grinned. “Had to make sure you knew what you were dealing with.”

“Oh, trust me,” you drawled, smirking. “I definitely know.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “So? You comin’ or what?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think before finally nodding. “Alright, Anderson. Take me to the rodeo.”

Her smirk softened into something warmer, something almost fond. “Good,” she murmured. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

The weekend finally rolled around, and your room looked like a damn tornado had ripped through it. Clothes were strewn across the bed, shoes kicked to the side, and Dina was sitting cross-legged on the floor, scrolling on her phone between giving you brutally honest fashion advice.

Your hair was styled perfectly, your makeup was flawless—but the outfit? That was the real struggle. You held up a few options, groaning each time they didn’t feel right.

"You’re overthinking this,” Dina sighed, tossing a pillow at you.

“You’re underthinking this,” you shot back, pacing in front of your mirror. "I like her a lot, Dina. I have to look good."

“You always look good,” she said, rolling her eyes before sitting up. “But if you want to look hot—go with those shorts and that cheetah print corset top.”

You turned to the mirror, holding up the outfit against your body. The booty jean shorts hugged your curves just right, and the cheetah print corset top? It was giving country but make it sexy. You paired it with some black boots, did a little spin, and finally, finally felt satisfied.

Just as you finished adjusting everything, you heard a honk outside.

“Perfect timing,” Dina grinned.

“Lifesaver,” you said, giving her a quick hug before grabbing your bag.

Stepping out of your room, you found your dad lounging on the couch, eyes locked on the TV as Yellowstone played. Without a second thought, you leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Bye, Dad.”

“Be safe,” he muttered, still half-distracted. “And don’t be out too late.”

You smirked. No promises.

Pushing open the front door, you were immediately greeted by the sight of that familiar black truck parked in your driveway. The engine was humming low, the headlights casting a soft glow, and sitting behind the wheel—looking fine as hell—was Abby.

She was decked out in all black. Black jeans, black button-up, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off those arms, a silver belt buckle glinting under the porch light. The way she leaned back in her seat, one hand resting on the wheel, exuding effortless confidence? Yeah. Trouble.

You climbed into the passenger seat, closing the door behind you with a soft thud before turning to her. “Damn, Anderson,” you said, looking her up and down. “You didn’t even look like this the first time we met.”

That smug smirk of hers grew as she gave you an equally slow once-over. “I should say the same to you, bunny,” she murmured, voice thick with approval. “You look real good and…” she trailed off, reaching toward the center console, “you forgot something.”

She lifted up the hat she had given you, the one from the rodeo, and before you could even react, she placed it on your head, her fingers lingering just a little too long.

Your stomach flipped.

“You ready?” she asked, her voice softer now, her eyes locked onto yours.

You smiled, adjusting the brim of the hat before nodding. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

With that, she put the truck into drive, pulling off down the road, the night just beginning.

The festival was alive with bright lights, the air thick with the scent of fried food, caramel, and the smoky tang of barbecue. Laughter and country music blended into the background as you and Abby moved through the bustling crowd, tickets in hand, ready to indulge in everything the fair had to offer.

From the moment you stepped through the gates, the night was nothing but fun. Abby, as it turned out, was really good at carnival games—almost too good. Every time she stepped up to a booth, she won with ease, knocking down milk bottles like it was second nature, landing impossible shots in rigged hoops, and hooking prizes from claw machines like she had magnets in her fingers.

She must have won you at least five plushies before you even reached the food stalls.

"Are you sure you’re not cheating?" you teased, hugging an oversized stuffed horse to your chest.

She smirked, tossing a ring onto a bottle without even looking. It landed with a perfect clink. "Nah, bunny. I’m just better."

Your night was briefly interrupted when a few festival-goers recognized her. People stopped her in passing, asking for autographs, asking why she wasn’t in the rodeo today. Abby didn’t even hesitate before slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you into her side as she answered,

“I canceled for this pretty lady right here. Don’t worry—I’ll be back in the arena before you know it.”

That answer alone had your stomach flipping.

Eventually, you two made your way to a concession stand that sold drinks and jello shots. Abby stuck to her whiskey, sipping slow, watching with amusement as the men behind the counter flirted with you, handing you drinks and shots for free simply because you were pretty.

You took every single one they handed you, and before you knew it, you were drunk out of your mind.

Abby didn’t mind, though. If anything, she loved seeing you in your fullest element—carefree, laughing, tipsy off life and liquor.

But then, something caught your eye.

A mechanical bull.

You gasped, eyes going wide with excitement, and before Abby could react, you took off, weaving through the crowd toward it.

“Shit—bunny, wait—” Abby called after you, quickly catching up, standing at your side as you bounced on your heels in line.

“You sure you wanna do this?” she asked, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

“I’m more than sure,” you grinned, barely able to contain your excitement.

The line moved fast, and when it was finally your turn, you climbed onto the bull with surprising ease, settling in like you’d done this a hundred times before. You wrapped one hand tightly around the horn, the other adjusting the hat still perched on your head. With a confident grin, you shot a thumbs-up to the operator.

He pressed the button.

The bull jerked to life, spinning and bucking in unpredictable movements, but you held on like a pro. One hand gripping the saddle, the other keeping your hat in place as you moved in sync with the mechanical beast.

Abby was impressed.

But if she was being honest? She wasn’t really focused on how good you were at staying on.

She was focused on the way your hips rolled, the way your thighs clenched to keep yourself balanced—the way your body moved so effortlessly in a rhythm that had her wishing, praying, that it was her beneath you instead of that damn machine.

She was so lost in the sight of you that she almost didn’t notice the group of guys standing nearby, whispering among themselves, eyeing you in a way that made her blood boil.

“Damn, look at her ride that thing.”

"Bet she’s even better in a—"

Before the guy could even finish that sentence, Abby was already on her feet, standing over them, voice low and dangerous.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouths.”

The guys looked up at her, startled, and quickly muttered some half-assed apologies before backing off.

By the time Abby turned back, you had finally lost control, tumbling off the bull with a breathless laugh.

“Woooo! New record—60 seconds!” the operator announced through the mic before stepping over to help you up, handing you a giant plush cow as a prize.

Still clearly drunk, you stumbled down from the platform, plushie in hand, and the moment you saw Abby, your eyes lit up like you had just won the lottery.

“Look what I got!” you beamed, holding up the cow proudly.

Abby let out a small chuckle, shaking her head as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “Yeah, I see it. Come on, babygirl,” she murmured, voice soft as she led you toward a nearby table by the food venue.

She pulled out a chair for you, easing you into it before sitting beside you, resting a protective hand on your thigh.

"Let’s get you some food before you pass out on me."

Abby was about halfway to the food stand when you shook your head, pressing your fingers to your temples.

"I'ma be honest, my head is still spinning,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “Can you get it for me? I’ll save our spots here.”

Abby turned back to you with a smile, tilting her head slightly before leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the lips. “Alright. What do you want to eat?”

You smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. “You… but I’ll settle for some nachos.”

Abby let out a low chuckle, shaking her head as she patted your thigh. “Alright, I’ll be back.”

With that, she walked off, disappearing into the crowd.

As you waited, you sighed, pulling off Abby’s hat and using it to fan yourself. The night air was warm, and the combination of alcohol and excitement had left a flush on your skin. You were still grinning to yourself when you noticed movement from the side—then suddenly, a group of guys stepped up, surrounding you almost entirely.

It didn’t take long to realize who they were.

The same group of perverted assholes that had been whispering about you while you were riding the bull.

You remained seated, looking up at them with a bored expression.

One of them smirked, tipping his beer can toward you. “Damn, sweetheart, you sure know how to ride.”

Another one chimed in, eyes raking down your body. “Bet you’d be even better on somethin’ else.”

You worked at Hooters—you were used to men hitting on you. So instead of reacting, you plastered on a small, polite smile, already preparing to shut them down.

“Thanks, but I’m good. My girlfriend’s getting me something, and she’ll be back any second now.”

That should have been enough. Should have been.

But it wasn’t.

The flirting didn’t stop. If anything, it got worse. More persistent.

One of them, the tallest of the group, stepped closer, invading your space. “C’mon now, no need to play hard to get,” he drawled. “We’re just tryna have a little fun.”

Your patience was running thin. “And I said I’m good,” you said firmly. “I don’t want any of you—”

Before you could even finish, a rough hand grabbed your arm, yanking you up from your seat.

It happened fast—too fast for them to react.

Before he could tighten his grip, before he could say another word, your fist connected with his face.

A sickening crack filled the air as his nose burst open, blood spilling down his face. He stumbled back with a strangled yell, clutching his face in pain.

“Fuck off!” you snapped, eyes blazing as you glared at the rest of them. “All of you.”

The rest of the group stood frozen, wide-eyed.

“I’m a lesbian. I don’t even like you—any of you.”

There was a stunned silence. Then the guy you had just punched groaned, still gripping his nose. “What the fuck, you crazy bit—”

“What the fuck’s going on here?”

The deep, unmistakable voice sent chills down your spine.

You turned just in time to see Abby storming toward you, jaw clenched, brows furrowed in a deadly glare. She was holding a plate of nachos, but her focus was entirely on the scene in front of her.

The guys immediately took a step back.

Abby’s gaze snapped to the guy with the bleeding nose, then back to you, eyes scanning for any sign of harm. “Bunny,” she murmured, voice tense, “you good?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just dealt with some assholes who couldn’t take a hint.”

Abby’s eyes darkened, and without missing a beat, she dropped the plate of nachos and stepped toward the group.

They didn’t wait for her to get closer.

One of them muttered, “Shit—let’s go,” before grabbing his friend and dragging him away, disappearing into the crowd like cowards.

Abby watched them go, chest rising and falling with barely restrained anger.

Then she turned back to you.

“C’mere,” she murmured, voice softer now.

You didn’t hesitate, stepping into her arms as she pulled you into a tight embrace. You felt the tension in her muscles, the way her fingers flexed against your back like she was trying to ground herself.

Finally, she sighed, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Next time?” she said, voice teasing but still laced with concern. “Wait ‘til I’m back before you start throwin’ punches, yeah?”

You smirked, tilting your chin up to look at her. “No promises.”

Abby huffed, shaking her head before pressing a firm kiss to your lips. “You’re gonna be the death of me, bunny.”

You let out a small sigh, rubbing your temples. The adrenaline from earlier was fading, leaving behind a dull headache—and your buzz? Gone.

“I think my buzz is wearing off,” you admitted, looking up at Abby. “Can we just go? They kinda ruined the mood.”

Abby frowned, her jaw tightening slightly, but she nodded. “Yeah, sure. We can go to my place.”

That made you pause. You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “Your place? Didn’t know you were from around here.”

“I’m not,” she said with a smirk. “I’m staying at an Airbnb.”

That was enough to convince you.

The ride to her place was quiet, comfortable. Abby kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on your thigh, her thumb rubbing slow circles against your bare skin. You leaned into the seat, feeling exhaustion creeping in—but when you pulled up to the Airbnb, you were wide awake again.

Before you could even get out of the truck, loud, excited barking rang through the air.

The moment Abby opened the door, two dogs bolted toward her, tails wagging furiously.

You blinked.

“You have dogs?” you asked, sliding out of the truck and shutting the door behind you.

Abby chuckled as she knelt down, rubbing one of the dog’s head affectionately. “Yeah. Didn’t I mention them?”

You shook your head, already crouching to pet them. You loved animals—always had—but taking care of them? Different story. Feeding, walking, and worst of all, cleaning up after them? Not your thing.

Still, that didn’t stop you from melting a little Alice licked your hand. “Aww, you’re both so cute,” you cooed, scratching behind their ears.

Abby carried the giant plushies inside, dropping them onto the living room couch before turning back to you.

“Their names are Bear and Alice,” she said. “I adopted them from a friend.”

You glanced up at her with a small smile. “Well, they’re adorable.”

Bear—who was definitely the troublemaker—jumped up on you, his paws landing on your thighs, his tail wagging like crazy.

Abby snorted. “Yeah, adorable until they knock you over.”

You laughed, nudging Bear back down gently before standing. “So… what now?”

Abby raised a brow, a slow smirk creeping onto her lips as she stepped closer.

“I can think of a few things,” she murmured, her hands slipping around your waist.

Your stomach flipped.

Yeah, you were definitely feeling awake again.

Abby’s gaze flickered down to your lips, and that was all the signal you needed. You leaned in, pressing your lips against hers, soft but full of intent. She didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, her hands gripping your waist firmly before she lifted you with ease, making you gasp against her mouth.

Instinctively, your legs wrapped around her, your arms draping over her broad shoulders as she carried you effortlessly through the Airbnb. The feeling of being handled like that sent a shiver through you, heat pooling low in your stomach.

By the time she reached the bedroom, Abby laid you down onto the bed, her body hovering over yours. The room was dimly lit, just enough for you to see the hunger in her eyes. You pulled her down into another kiss, deeper this time, biting her bottom lip just enough to make her groan. But before she could take control, you pulled away, your lips curling into a smirk.

You sat up, sliding off the bed slowly, making sure her eyes followed you. Abby leaned back on her elbows, watching as you reached for the hem of your top, peeling it off teasingly slow before taking your bra off also. The cool air met your bare skin as you let the fabric drop. Next, you hooked your thumbs into your shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs with the same deliberate pace.

Abby’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, her hands flexing against the sheets.

“You gonna ride me like you did that bull?” she asked, voice thick with anticipation.

You bit your lip, letting your fingers ghost over her thighs as you climbed onto her lap, your bodies pressed together, heat radiating between you.

“I think you already know the answer,” you murmured.

As you sinked into her lap, you felt something abnormal in her pants. You looked at her confused "Whats that?," you asked.

A knowing smirk appeared on Abby's face "Find out," she said.

You looked at her with a raised eyebrow before getting off of her and unbuckling her pants and pulling them down, along with her boxers, letting them pool at her ankles.

It was a strap, a black one that was about 8 inches.

"You had this on the whole festival?," you asked, looking at her.

"Gotta be prepared," she said with a shrug.

Abby's strap was stuffed deep inside of your wet cunt, she groaned seeing you take every single inch with ease.

Her hands were on your waist as you were on top of her, keeping your promise.

Riding her.

You put your hands in the middle of her chest, keeping yourself balanced as you started to slowly ride her, needy moans spilling out of your mouth.

"Fuck bunny. You're doing so well...taking me so well," she praises as she looks up at you, taking in the sight of you. The way your breast bounced with each thrust, the bites she left on your shoulder and neck, the way you took her cock like it was made for you.

Fuck—what a sight to see.

Once you adjusted to her cock, your thrusting became faster, your hands shifted from her chest to the back of her thighs.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you moaned out as your head tilted back, your cunt fluttering around her cock, wanting more.

Abby pulled herself up, sitting up as she grabbed her hat, that you disgarded on the side of the bed as she put it on your head. "Come on ride my cock, cowgirl. You can do it better than this.'

The words coming out of Abby's mouth only made you whimper. Even she knew you werent giving yourself enough simulation.

She took that as a sigh to wrap her arm around your waist, keeping you steady before she uses her other arm to leverage herself to fuck up into you, making you gasp in pleasure.

The thrust were deep and fast, the head of her cock kissing your cervix, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

She grunts with each thrust as she felt it too, the base of the strap rubbing against her huge, puffy clit.

You soon match her thrust, going down as she thrusted up. It made her cock hit every spot perfectly earning almost pornographic moans out of you.

Your hips soon start to twitch and the knot in your stomach starting to build up. "Ah— fuck I'm gonna cum," you announce.

"Me too, babygirl," she grunts out.

The grip she had on you, got tighter as her hips twitched against yours, but you didnt stop you couldn't. You wanted to cum. You needed to.

You stopped Abby's movements by pushing her back down by her chest, her hands went back to your waist as you got back to bouncing on her cock.

You bite your bottom lip as you switched between grinding and bouncing. "Im coming!," you moaned out.

You both came at the same time, Abby threw her head back the sounds coming out of her were a mix of moans and gasps.

The sounds coming from her only made you cum harder, seconds after her, your juices spilling and covering her cock and thighs along with her own.

You huffed before you slowly got off of her and laid down beside her.

Abby was looking at you, her eyes heavy but full of something deep—satisfaction, maybe, or amusement at the lazy grin pulling at your lips. She reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before letting her fingers trail down your jaw.

Then, with a teasing smirk, you broke the silence.

“Save a horse, ride a cowgirl,” you murmured, voice smug and slightly breathless.

Abby huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. “Jesus, you’re ridiculous.”

The morning was slow and peaceful, the kind of lazy dawn that made you want to stretch out the moment forever. Abby was still knocked out in bed when you slid into one of her flannels, the fabric drowning you in warmth, the scent of her clinging to it like a second skin. You didn’t bother buttoning it all the way, just enough to cover yourself as you padded barefoot through the Airbnb.

Bear and Alice stirred the second they saw you, tails thumping against the floor as they eagerly followed you to the back door. “Alright, alright, hold on,” you muttered sleepily, opening it and stepping onto the porch as the cool morning air kissed your legs. They ran out to do their business while you made your way back inside, the scent of coffee filling the air as you brewed a fresh pot.

You perched on one of the stools at the kitchen island, cradling the warm mug in your hands, taking slow sips as you let yourself sink into the morning. That was, until you heard the soft creak of footsteps behind you.

Abby shuffled in, looking half-asleep but still effortlessly gorgeous. Her hair was a little messy, her arms stretching above her head as she yawned. She was only in a sports bra and sweatpants, and damn, did she look good—like the kind of good that made you want to skip breakfast and drag her right back to bed.

She came up behind you, pressing a slow, sleepy kiss to your cheek before moving toward the coffee pot.

“You’re up early,” she murmured, voice husky from sleep.

“Had to let your children out,” you teased, nodding toward the dogs outside.

She grunted in response, pouring herself some coffee. You watched her for a moment before deciding to address the elephant in the room.

“So… when are you gonna ask?”

Abby turned, raising a brow. “Ask what?”

You rolled your eyes. “To be your girlfriend, dummy.”

She smirked, taking a slow sip of her coffee as she leaned against the counter. “I thought we were locked in when I put my hat on your head.”

You scoffed. “Well, you were wrong. And you’ve been doing slang research—‘locked in’ is new.”

Abby huffed out a laugh, shaking her head before stepping closer. “Alright then,” she said, setting her coffee down before looking at you properly. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

A smirk tugged at your lips as you lifted your mug, letting the words sit in the air for a beat before answering.

“Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

You smiled against the rim of your cup, taking another slow sip as Abby watched you, grinning.

“Good,” she murmured. “Because I wasn’t planning on letting you go, anyway.”

Abby leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, her hand resting on your thigh as if to anchor you to this moment. When she pulled back, she gave you that signature smirk—the one that made your stomach do flips.

“You know,” she mused, eyes dragging over you with that signature smirk, “you look real good in my clothes.”

You raised a brow, setting your mug down before leaning forward on your elbows. “Yeah? Guess you’ll have to get used to seeing me in them, huh?”

Abby’s smirk softened into something more genuine, something a little too tender for the casual morning conversation, but she didn’t shy away from it. Instead, she leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before muttering against your skin, “Yeah, I guess I will.”

taglist : @rhian88 @abbyslvrrr @hell0-ki55y @spritelova @abbyscoochiecruncher @smaugayra @chaikichainsaw @femme-historian @h2pinky @lilredbird101 @kirna-diane @viperineee @sincerely-forest @athena-winters13 @madsxh1022

[covenofagatha]

Practice makes perfect (Part 2)

Tell me it's all wrong 'til it gets to me

Some inspo from this brainworm

Word count: 4k

Warnings: g!p reader, Agatha is even meaner, degradation kink, humiliation kink, titjob, oral, reader once again is a walking HR violation, slight praise kink, one spank, fingering, sex, think this is it?

“Everyone have a good night?” Rio asks the next morning during breakfast. 

You’re spooning vanilla yogurt into a bowl and trying not to think about how much it reminds you of your cum dripping out of Agatha’s pussy. “I had a great night,” you answer, feeling everyone’s eyes turn to you, especially Agatha, who’s standing right next to you. “Um, yeah, Agatha and I actually had sex.” 

Rio snorts, as do a few other people in the room. You’ve gotten so used to no one taking you seriously that you like to play around and see what you can get away with. Whether it’s a truth or a lie, they don’t care because you blur the lines so often.

If only they knew how true that was, though. 

“So classy,” Rio says and you can almost hear her roll her eyes before she leaves the buffet to go find a table.

“Oh, don’t worry!” you call after her. “Agatha really liked it. It was all her idea.” Rio doesn’t even look back. If you weren’t the boss’s daughter, you’re sure you would’ve been fired at least four dozen times from just this summer. 

Agatha remains unfazed as she snatches the yogurt spoon from your hand. “You fucking wish. Never in a million years,” she retorts calmly and you giggle. 

She spends the rest of the day seemingly trying to get you back for that stunt: she salaciously licks yogurt off the spoon. She wears a shirt that dips a little too low and shows off the edge of her red bra. She looks up at you through her perfect eyelashes when you ask her if you can sit next to her at the table and she laughs cruelly after she says no. 

Or she’s doing everything she usually does and you’re just reading into it because you’re obsessed with her.

But when you find her in the pool alone after breakfast, wearing a two piece black bikini, it’s hard to believe that she’s not at least teasing you a little. You stand on the edge absolutely agape, your cock making an obvious tent in your pants. She smirks and gets out and walks over to you.

Water droplets cascade down the smooth expanse of her pale stomach and your mouth runs dry. You can see her nipples through her wet top and heat flashes through your body. Your head starts to spin. 

You whisper her name before she flicks water on your shirt and reaches down to pat your cock roughly. Your hips jolt forward and a muffled groan leaves your mouth and she snickers. 

“I’m surprised that didn’t make you cum,” she says but her tone makes it clear that she's still holding out hope you’ll embarrass yourself again.

“Built up my stamina these past few nights,” you retort. 

She scoffs. “Yeah, you really showed me yesterday. How long did you last? Not even a second?” 

“Okay, maybe the first time, but can you blame me after how worked up I was? And I lasted longer the second time,” you protest and she mockingly pouts. 

“Aw, poor you,” she tuts and you hate how it goes right to your cock. Her gaze drops down again to watch you strain more against your pants and there’s a devilish glint in her eyes when she looks back up. “I was right, you know. I knew you wouldn’t be able to last, I knew you were too fucking incompetent. You’re more pathetic than a common whore.” 

You whimper and clutch onto her arm with tight fingers because it’s the only way you can resist touching herself. 

She regards you pawing at her with the utmost disgust. “You’re so fucking dirty,” she snarls and heat swirls around your head and your knees almost buckle. Your cock is pulsing, growing, swelling—she’s going to get exactly what she wants. She knows it too. 

“Fuck, Agatha, please—” Your whines are pitiful and desperate and you look at her with the best puppy-dog eyes you can muster. 

Her voice lowers even more. “God, look at you. What a fucking embarrassment.” 

Your stomach muscles tighten. 

“What would your dad think if he saw you like this?” 

You hump nothing and hiss at the feeling of the rough fabric against your erection and her smile is wicked.

“What would any of them think if they saw you drooling over a woman twice your age? If they saw you harder than a teenager just because I told you how pathetic you are? You’re nothing more than a bitch in heat, are you?”

Agatha cups your cheek with a gentleness that stands in stark contrast to her words and you buck your hips again. The sounds falling from your mouth are weak and pleading and you think she’s about to finish you off. 

“You know,” she muses, tone now sweet as honey, “I better go get changed before we have to do whatever your dad has on the schedule for today. But you…you look a little hot right now. I think you need to cool off.” 

Before you can ask what she means—or ask for her to touch you—she grabs your arms, whirls you around, and gently shoves you. 

It feels like you’re falling backwards in slow motion and you feel your jaw drop as you watch her smile. 

You hit the water and you instantly recoil, the cold doing wonders to sober you up. Your erection has practically disappeared by the time you break the surface, gasping for air. 

“What the fuck?” you splutter and she tosses her head back with a laugh. 

Agatha finally shrugs when she stops cackling and you wade to the stairs, teeth chattering. Your clothes are clinging to your shivering body but she just watches in amusement. 

“Wanda!” you shout and your personal assistant comes running out from the house. Her green eyes widen when she sees you in the pool. “Can you get me a towel?” 

Agatha rolls her eyes as Wanda nods quickly. “Of course. Anything else?” 

You shake your head and she speeds off. 

“You don’t need her to tie your shoes?” Agatha quips and you grumble at her to shut up. Your family is rich—of course you’re used to the teasing about having assistants. Even as an intern at the company, you’ve delegated far too much of your work to Wanda and she always does it with no complaints. You’re betting the six figure salary your father pays her keeps her content. 

Wanda comes back with a towel and you snatch it from her when you finally get out of the pool. Agatha walks away without giving you another glance and you can’t help but feel rejected. 

She barely even looks at you the rest of the morning and then your dad calls his executive staff into a meeting for the whole afternoon so you lay on your bed, bored out of your mind. It’s the last day of the vacation and of course he wants to spend it getting ready for the next quarter. 

It’s tempting to jack off or to use the flashlight that’s sitting in your nightstand drawer, and you do try, but neither your hand nor the toy even comes close to how Agatha’s cunt feels so you give up with a huff. 

That night, you go to her room in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. You’re not willing to take the chance that she’ll come to yours because you don’t actually know what’s going on between you. She is so fucking confusing. 

You flirt with her, she always shoots you down, and then she makes you fuck a fleshlight before she takes your virginity? The point of it was to prove that you wouldn’t last inside her, and she was technically correct. So does that mean this is all over?

Not if you have anything to say about it. And there was her stunt by the pool earlier, so clearly she’s not done yet either. 

Knocking rhythmically and quietly on her door, you keep your eyes peeled down the hallway just to make sure no one sees. You joking about having sex with general counsel might be fine because no one believes you, but it would be much harder to cover this up.

Agatha opens it a few moments later in a matching purple pajama set and lets out an exasperated sigh. Her glasses are pushed up on her forehead and you can see her laptop on her bed. 

You slip past her into the room without waiting for her approval and make a beeline for the scotch, pouring yourself two fingers of it. 

“Come back for more humiliation?” she taunts and you feel your stomach twist. “Think you’re a big girl because you managed to stick your cock into one person one time?” 

“You know,” you say, draining a glass without even wincing at the burn of the alcohol and turning around to point at her, “that was all your idea. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want me just as much as I want you.” 

Agatha raises an eyebrow and her gaze drops to the tent in your boxers. “I don’t think that’s possible,” she retorts dryly. 

You put the glass down and start to advance as she stands her ground firmly. “You didn’t have to fuck me. You didn’t even have to come to my room the first night. But you did. And I know how affected you were last night, you were fucking enjoying yourself.” 

She laughs cynically and rolls her eyes. “Please, honey, I’ve had better sex with my vibrator.” Ignoring the way that causes more blood to rush south—because now you’re thinking about her moaning loudly while falling apart holding a toy against her clit—you smirk. 

“Then why did you fuck me?” 

Her face twitches and she jerks her head to the side. “Take your clothes off and get on the bed.” 

You’d ask again if there was anything on your mind other than your throbbing cock and her hot cunt so you tear off your shirt, shove off your boxers, and jump on top of the covers. Your cock is standing straight up, oozing precum onto your stomach and twitching against nothing. 

“God, you’re fucking pathetic,” Agatha hisses and you hump the air, a strangled whimper leaving your mouth. “All it takes is a few words and you’re leaking for me.” 

She unbuttons her blouse again and you don’t think you’ll ever get bored of the sight of her tits, perky and supple and rose-colored nipples that you need in your mouth. She slides down her shorts and your breathing quickens, feeling heat flush through your neck and upper chest. 

“Agatha, please,” you whine. Agatha scoffs and climbs on the bed next to you on her knees and slips a hand between her legs. You stare, open-mouthed, panting, as she works at her clit. “Wait…can I?” 

Her hips jolt and you think you can hear her groan through her clamped lips. “You want to—what? Fumble around incompetently? Think you can even find my clit?” 

You nod urgently while your cock pulses and another spurt of precum dribbles out. “I want to, please,” you gasp, “I want to taste you.” 

“Fine. Try not to cum immediately again,” she snaps without any of her usual bite and moves so she’s laying next to you, her legs spread open. 

Situating yourself, you feel the air get kicked out of you when you get your first good look at her pussy. 

Agatha is fucking soaked. Her cunt glistens, lips swollen and pink and almost fused together, and you can see her clit peeking out at the top. Your mouth is watering and your cock gets harder if possible. You can’t resist lowering your hips to the bed so you can get some pressure on it. 

“Holy fuck,” you breathe in awe. “You’re so wet.” 

“Are you actually going to do anything or just stare?” she says, tone laced with venom. “Maybe you should call your assistant, I know she does everything else for you cause you’re too incompetent.” 

You whimper and grind onto the bed, cock throbbing, shaking your head with wide eyes. You can do this.  

She purses her lips. “That’s too bad. She could probably actually get me to cum.” 

Heat tears through you and you surge forward with a vengeance, licking roughly up her cunt and she hisses before roughly grabbing your hair. 

“Slow down,” she barks and you mumble an apology before flattening your tongue and gently dragging it through her folds. “Better.” 

You say something that’s muffled by her pussy and you hump the bed faster because she squeaks when you rub your tongue against her clit. 

She swears under her breath and you can’t even focus anymore because of the dizziness in your head and the aching in your cock. The taste of her has overwhelmed your mouth and your nose and you’re sloppily devouring her while she tries and fails to stop her hips from rolling. 

“I can’t—fuck—Agatha, I’m gonna—” You can feel your stomach tightening, can feel your cock pulsing, and you know you’re about to cum from grinding on the bed and eating her out. 

Instead of mocking you, she growls and yanks you up by the hair until you’re practically straddling her stomach. Tendrils of precum pool on her skin and you swallow roughly. 

“Since you’re going to be fucking useless until you get off,” she sighs and grips your hips to pull you up even higher. Your cock drags against her, leaving a sticky trail in your wake and you have to put a hand out on the headboard to catch yourself when you realize what she’s doing. 

Your cock rests between her tits and she lifts her head up to spit on you and your hips jerk forward. The mess of her saliva and your precum is driving you absolutely crazy and you begin rutting against her. 

Her fingers dig into your ass and help you move and your cock fits perfectly in the crook between her boobs. You hold onto the headboard, panting while you look down at her, and there’s a heat in her eyes that you only see at work—when she gets exactly what she wants. 

“God, you’re pathetic,” she says without any of her usual malice. The pink from her cheeks has spread down her chin and to her upper chest that your cock is dragging against. “Can’t do anything for yourself so you need me, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” you choke out, your thrusts becoming shorter. The stickiness is making you throb and your grunts get louder.

Agatha spanks you and you shudder, your cock pumping out a spurt of precum, and then she lets go of your ass to push her breasts together so her soft, supple tits are wrapped around your hard cock and you sharply inhale. 

But then she leans down and flicks her tongue out against the tip of your cock and you can’t hold it back anymore. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck—I can’t—fuck,” you babble before your cock explodes, drenching the bottom of her face and the top of her chest in white. She lets out a gasp at the feeling of your seed on her skin and the sight of her covered in you makes one last strand of cum squirt out. 

You slouch back while your cock twitches and Agatha drags two fingers through the mess on her clavicle before stuffing them in your mouth. She looks delighted when you make a surprised sound before grabbing your hair and pulling you down and making you clean up your cum. 

“Good girl,” she purrs when you’re all done and then nudges you back down between her legs. The praise makes your stomach grow warm—apparently you like that just as much as the degradation. “Think you can focus now?” 

Nodding eagerly, you look at her pussy and your mouth falls open. She’s dripping onto the bed, folds spread open, and you can see her throbbing. 

This time, there’s no hesitation in putting your mouth on her and you moan lasciviously at her taste. Your eyes dart up to watch her face as you dip your tongue inside her and curl it and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. 

But then you lick back up and suck on her clit and she can’t help the audible groan that escapes her. The sound makes your cock pulse and you can already feel yourself starting to grow hard again. 

“Keep doing that,” she orders and you double your efforts, lashing your tongue against her clit and then sucking and her head falls back. “Two fingers inside me, now.” 

Her walls instantly bear down around you and you whimper, the vibrations making her hips roll. She is so warm and so hot and you never want to leave her cunt. 

“Fuck me harder, god, you’re useless,” she hisses but it quickly turns into another moan when you thrust in deeply and curl them until you find the spot that makes her clench. Your slurping noises, along with her sounds of pleasure, are going straight to your cock and you start to grind against the bed gently for some stimulation. 

“You like this,” you say into her cunt and she violently shakes her head while beginning to ride your face and fingers. Her walls are gripping you, trying to drag you in as deep as you can go, and you can feel every ridge and groove when you fuck her. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me.” 

She yanks on your hair and you moan. “Stop fucking talking,” she seethes and you chuckle, the vibrations reverbrating against her pussy and making her whimper. You think she might actually be getting somewhere. “Good thing I brought my vibrator because I’m going to be needing it after you—fuck—”

You suck on her clit roughly and her voice breaks off. She’s grinding harder on you, drenching your face and fingers, and she’s fucking panting. So are you, right against her pussy and your stomach flexes to keep your steady rhythm of humping the bed going strong. Your jaw and wrist are burning but from the way she’s clenching furiously around your fingers, she’s getting close. 

And you know that if you stop right now, Agatha would never let it go. 

So you keep doing exactly what you’re doing and her hips start to falter and her breathing gets heavier. 

“God, you’re such a slut, whoring yourself out to a woman twice your age,” she groans. “You’re so pathetic, fuck—”

Her hands scramble and tug on your hair and you’re about to make a snarky comment on how she’s just so desperate for your cum when she grabs onto your hard and leaking cock and angles it at her entrance. 

You barely have time to breathe before her legs hook around your waist. “Don’t you dare cum,” she warns and you huff out a laugh before pushing into her wet cunt. 

Agatha’s walls grip your cock and you freeze, your head dropping down to rest on her tits and you pant open-mouthed against her skin before sucking on her nipple. Her hips arch up to get you deeper inside and you let out a lewd moan. She feels so good and you can feel her throb around you. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, your cock twitching. It’s such a different angle from her being on top of you and you love it. You start to move slowly, just to hold off your impending orgasm. 

You can see everything—the way her tits bounce with each thrust, the way her hair is sprawled out underneath her, the slight sheen of sweat on her chest, the bulge your cock makes in her stomach. 

“Agatha, Agatha, fuck, please, I’m gonna—fuck, please, I can’t,” you cry, your cock pulsing rapidly inside her. She clenches around you with each thrust and she bites her bottom lip roughly to control her sounds. 

“Wait, just wait, don’t cum yet,” she groans, strangled and needy, and you know you’re about to cum but you’re desperate to make her cum before you do. 

So you reach between your bodies and find her clit and furiously start to rub at it and she moans. “Tell me,” you order, “tell me that I’m making you feel good.” 

She laughs breathlessly. “You think because you’re on top, you’re in charge? Honey, you can’t do anything without me. You’re so pathetic that you only get this hard for me, right? Tell me that.” Her words are getting tighter and you duck back down to swirl your tongue around her nipple. 

“Just you, Agatha,” you murmur and she shivers from your hot breath. Tension is building in your cock and your stomach and your back and you thrust harder because you need her to cum. “I only want you, fuck, it’s always been you.” 

And then she keens, eyes rolling back in her head, and her cunt spasms around you. You feel a gush of wetness and you groan weakly before pumping her full of thick, hot cum. She gasps when she feels your seed paint her walls white and you collapse on top of her while your cock spurts out a few more loads into her. 

“You finally did one thing right,” she quips after a few moments and you laugh before nipping at the curvature of her breasts. 

“That’s the best performance review I’ve ever gotten,” you say, and once you’re fully soft, you pull out of her and sit up on your knees to spread her folds open. 

Your cum oozes out and your cock twitches at the sight and she gasps and squirms. She reaches down and swipes through the mess leaking out of her and then shoves her fingers into your mouth. 

The taste of both of you makes you whimper and she swallows roughly. You move back down of your own accord and slowly drag your tongue through her folds, getting your mixture all over your mouth. You steadily clean your cum out of her while holding eye contact and her struggle to remain composed would make you hard again if you hadn’t already cum twice in the span of about fifteen minutes. 

You make sure to lick her clit a few times and she writhes underneath you, stifling her sighs. Her cunt is a mess by the time you’re done, swollen and pink and still wet and she tugs you away because the stimulation has finally gotten to be too much. 

Flopping onto the bed next to her, you lick your lips and wonder what it would be like to kiss Agatha. You turn to look at her to find her eyes already on you. 

“What happens tomorrow?” you whisper and her gaze flickers down to your mouth. “When we go back.” 

Agatha sighs and gets out of bed, finding her pajamas on the floor and putting them back on. “We never speak of this again. And that means no more little jokes.”

It stings but you smirk to deflect. “Afraid someone will think the great Agatha Harkness deigned to fuck the boss’s daughter? That’s like, reverse sleeping up the corporate ladder. They’d probably applaud your charity. Or—you know what? I bet they’d be jealous. Everyone wants a piece of me, you know. Too bad general counsel already tamed this tiger.” You bite at her playfully and she snorts before fixing you with a serious stare. 

“This never happened,” she says solemnly and you nod. But before you can ask if you should leave, she lays back down next to you and her hand brushes against yours. You stiffen, but don’t pull away and her touch lingers.  

You lay so still, trying to breathe as quietly as you possibly can, so maybe she’ll let you stay. 

Her hand doesn’t move from yours the entire night. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs

[tricksh0t]

★ princes don't pout

☾ jacaerys velaryon x top m reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ i'm sorry guys this was ready 20 hours ago but i fell asleep (at 11 pm) then i was busy and then i napped

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 2.10k words

cw: Jace is 18 in this !! age gap, thigh fucking, ser and boy as names, handjob, inexperience, groping, some slight feminization

"It does not befit a prince to pout, Prince Jacaerys." You, a Queen's Guard and his mother's sworn protector, say pointedly.

You have always been a caring figure who looked out for him in every moment, but it has come to the point where you are an extension of his mother, quietly heeding her words and effectively keeping him trapped in his own home.

Your protection and your very presence make him feel safe; and your charming humor, in the rare moments you are not driven by his mother's words, bring a yearning to his chest. Jace wishes for something else from you.

He's got a crush.

A crush that has him blushing madly every time he does something remotely embarrassing, that has him doing anything to prove himself to you. A crush that makes him, though the moments are sparse, anything you tell him to.

Currently, you stare down at him with a disappointed look just like his mother does.

"What did you expect, my Prince?" You raise your eyebrow at him, making shame rise in his chest unintentionally. "For me to accept? I protect your virtue, my Prince, not tarnish it."

And to that, Jace simply answers, "Please?"

You can't help but chuckle at that, which makes him feel as though you're not taking him seriously. "What do you want, exactly?" You ask, after sobering up.

"I want you."

"My Prince–"

Jace wasn't pouting before, but he certainly was now. He tilts his head like a puppy.

He's cute, you'll admit to yourself, at least. He's cute, trying to gain the attention of an older man, thinking in his youth and naivety that something long lasting will come of it.

He plays the innocent card, with that pout. He's more clever than he paints himself to be, as he'd lured you into his chambers under the guise of "feeling unsafe" and cornered you against the end of his bed.

He wants this, wants you, and has clearly been planning for it.

"Alright." You concede with a sigh.

Immediately, Jace is pushing you onto the bed and beginning the long process of removing your armor. You know it is the familiarity of the belts and buckles of armor that makes him so quick, but a part of you thinks that it's because he's imagined removing it many times before, looking at where each piece separates and clasps together like looking for an enemy's weaknesses.

But he is all too eager.

"Wait, boy." You grasp at his curls and tug, causing him to wince. You'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on, tugging at his usually perfect hair and seeing how quickly he comes to a stop. "I will not bed you before you are wed."

"What?"

"I will use your thighs," Jace pouts, ready to protest, but you give his hair a tug again. "and you will stand it, because it is all I will give."

"But how?"

Jace's breath hitches when you pull him onto your lap. He lets out something of a whimper when your hands land on his hips. "You were so eager to disrobe me, focus on that first."

His movements are more sluggish at first, slowed by a feeling of defeat, but as more of you is exposed, he starts up a lustful fever again. Your armor is gone in seconds, clanging on the floor without a care, but then there is your underarmor clothing. Finally, as your chest is exposed, Jace slows. His breaths grow ragged.

The hair on your chest speaks age, strength, the mark of a man. Jacaerys himself does not have any, not yet, at least. It's why he almost seems enamoured.

His hand follows down the hair on your chest to the trail on your abdomen, his first time seeing a happy trail so prominent.

When his hands find the top of your trousers, he hesitates, the first time of the night. "Ser?"

"Yes?"

His eye is on the shape of the arousal in your pants, you realize.

"I want it."

He sounds so sure of it. It's adorable, because he's pouting again, because he wants something he doesn't even know that he can't handle without sweatwork.

"You may not have it." Your words leave no room for negotiation.

Jace hurries again, to undo your trousers and take them off, pulling along with them your underwear, as if throwing a fit.

He does not take the time to admire the shape of your cock like he did your chest. For a moment you think he might undress and force himself down on it, in defiance of you, but he doesn't. He's obedient like that; and though you know he doesn't like it when you order him around like his mother, he does not disobey, either.

He lays down on top of you, stubborn still with the way he presses his cheek against the warmth of your chest and looks away from you. His clothed thighs squeeze around your cock, but then he lies still just like that, because you hadn't told him how and he's unwilling to ask.

If he's so determined to be defiant, you'll do it for him.

Jace gasps when you part your legs and his lower half falls onto the bed. He thinks you're mocking him further when your hands, sickeningly slow and gentle, caress a path down his spine. He hates that it brings dragonfire to his cheeks and that it leaves shivers in its wake.

He hates even more so that when you reach the curve of his ass and squeeze two handfulls, it sends a shock through his nerves.

He thinks he's subtle, or maybe it's instinct, as he sinks lower down your chest and right into your hands. You push him back up, though, making him whine embarrasingly. He was just looking for your touch and you're pushing him back?

Your hands leave his rear, and he'd like to complain, but then they're pulling down his trousers and pants. It almost seems like his asscheeks bounce when the material is past the swell of them, making you chuckle.

The dragonfire in Jace's cheeks burns with embarrasment.

You know what you're filling pressed against you from his still covered front. You're not ashamed of unveiling it, but you're sure he is.

"S-Ser?"

You ignore him, lifting his hips with one hand and pulling the trousers off with the other. When you let his hips fall back down, his hard-on presses against your abdomen, providing just enough friction for a desperate Jace to moan.

His eyes immediately slam shut, and your hand comes up to his cheek to keep him against your chest, to caress it.

"Yes, sweet boy?" You answer now.

"Nevermind..." He replies sheepishly.

You push his trousers down as far as you can reach, revealing all the soft, unmarked skin underneath. He's just a prince, unworked, only trained, never been in a real battle. It makes it feel like a novelty, to be the first man to touch him like this.

"You wanted to know how, yes?"

"Y-Yes."

"Keep your thighs together. Use your knees to move and hands to keep yourself up." You help him at first, hands on his outer thighs and helping them up and down. "Do you feel what muscles that's using, boy?"

"Yes, Ser."

"Then use them."

He's sloppy at first, when you've just stopped helping him. His legs try to part instinctively as his knees dig into the mattress, but he remembers to squeeze them soon after.

He grows more coordinated and purposeful soon enough, getting into the rhythm. Soft sighs escape his mouth, not just because he's happy to please you, but because he's grinding his dick against your abdomen each time he comes down.

You grab a handful of his hair, just a hold. It's a reminder of when you tugged his hair, so when you speak, he listens. "You're grinding down on me, Prince."

"I'm sorry." Jace says quickly, in a cry, but he can't find himself stopping. Sighs turn to obscenities uttered under his breath, as you've finally coaxed his mouth to open. "Fuck."

He sounds desperate to stop, and yet he can't stop himself.

"It's okay." You say, the hold on his hair turning into a caress. "You can keep doing that, can't you?"

"Yes, Ser, I can." He says, resolute.

His thighs around your cock, squeezing...they're soft, so soft, like fucking into a cloud, one of those he flies into, and his skin is smooth, too, unblemished, unmarked, unused.

Your hands are on his thighs again, not helping, but feeling. Jace's moans grow a tad louder as you touch him.

You squeeze and meld the flesh of his thighs without a thought, just mesmerized by how good they feel around you and how malleable the fat of them seems to be, squishy under your hands.

"Ser!" Jace exclaims.

Startled, you ask. "Prince?"

"Ser..." You realize later that he is merely moaning your title as you provide him pleasure.

You look down at him, only noticing that he is blissed out of his mind based on his facial expression before another matter takes your mind.

Further down, you can just barely see the tip of your cock peaking out not from between his thighs but from below the curve of his ass. That too is unmarked, and for the night, yours. For the first time, really, he's someone's, yours.

You reach to grasp his asscheeks, and then, truly, you cannot see your cock.

Jace, on his part, cannot think about the perverted way you hold him as he chases his own pleasure. With each movement of his hips, he grinds his cock down on your abdomen unabashedly.

"Oh, Ser."

"Just like that, boy."

Your voice is a dirty whisper into his ear that has his body working past his limits.

This isn't what he wanted, but it might as well be.

It's, what? Delicious? The shock that rides his spine each time he presses down against you, to know that squeezing his thighs around you is pleasing you. He knows the pre that's making the slide of his thighs easier is yours, but he can't help but think if it like the slick of a cunt.

Jace shivers, his head melded against your chest. The hairs of it tickle his ear and chafe the side of his face with rough burns, but it's you, so he doesn't mind.

This is what he wanted, to have you.

He doesn't know that it's quick, but it is, when he finishes.

You push him down by the ass and still him, let him rest. He's a sweaty, spent mess against you, but you know he's happy.

"That all you wanted, prince?"

You don't expect Jacaerys to shake his head. He gulps back built up drool and speaks, "N-No. You too, Ser, please."

He tries to move his hips again, but between exhaustion and your hands, he can't. "I can't ask that of you."

"Let me see you finish, or...or let me do it!" He's eager for it. On shaky hands, he pushes his chest up and looks at you, with that pout.

"Princes don't pout, Prince Jacaerys."

He wasn't looking for the pleasure, not really. He was looking to fuck you, and you specifically, and in his mind, that only ended with you cumming.

"Please?"

"Alright." You concede with a sigh. You lift your hands, but then he's straining his knees and hips again. "Ah-ah, prince. Sit up. Use your hand."

Jace does so, gratefully. He sits up, on his knees, and his hand quickly gets to work.

It's like you've given him purpose, and he's resolute once more.

Unlike his thighs, his hands have been worked, training with swords, holding reigns and saddles and dragon spikes over the years. Still, he is a prince, less worked than any man you have ever been with before your servitude as a King's and then Queen's Guard.

That only means he's more dextrous and his hand works you up and down fast. He stares down at your cock, admiring it, as he hadn't earlier.

He still wants it.

But he'll obey you, like he usually does.

As you finish, Jacaerys smiles. You finished because of him, and he's content with that.

"There." You say, after regaining your breath. "Satisfied now, prince?"

He ticks some things off his spontaneous mental checklist: no kiss, you weren't inside him nor the opposite, no cuddling; but you wouldn't do any of that, either. You'd never let him.

Jace sighs, "As much as I can be."

[sundew199]

Another

a/n: Jesus it has been a hot minute since I wrote smut for Reiner, and um yea this was slightly self-indulgent won't even lie to you 🥴

tags: reiner braun x f!reader, oral f!receiving, mating press, breeding kink, mentions of getting reader pregnant, uh smut.

Asking Reiner for another baby was a dangerous task, because you knew the second the request left your lips, he'd be whisking you to the nearest surface to bury his cock inside you. Having a daughter already, who was around two years old, you felt like it was time for another, you never planned on having just one kid anyway.

You had it all planned out, your daughter staying the night with your parents, giving you and Reiner the entire night to yourselves. He was coming out of the shower right as you sat on the bed in one of your short promiscuous nightgowns, eyeing the way the towel wrapped around his hips hung low, revealing nearly all of his happy trail. Once you scooted to the edge of the bed and beckoned him over was when you slipped the request in his ear, feeling him shutter and almost buckle from just the idea alone.

Like a moth to a flame, Reiner was on you, pining your wrists to the bed and hovering over you, staring with hungry eyes that could devour you effortlessly.

"You want another?"

Seeking confirmation as if you hadn't whispered it to him so seriously just a second ago, plainly nodding your head and throwing one of your legs over his lower back and dragging the towel off his hips, revealing himself fully to you now. Reiner smiled like the devil at your simple assurance, releasing your wrists and helping you sit up, stripping you of the night gown and moaning at the fact there was nothing underneath.

Holding you at the knees, the deep chuckle automatically had you spreading your legs for him, undeniably eager to fulfill a shared wish. Reiner had always expressed wanting a big family, but knew it would always be on your time and not his. But fuck did he love to see you pregnant, swollen with his child and now that he had the opportunity to do it again, he wasn't wasting a second.

Before you could even process what was happening, his face was buried in your cunt, hands holding your legs apart as his mouth worked the sensitive flesh. His tongue traced over your clit, flicking it all for the satisfaction of hearing you whine. He could get drunk off the noises you made, the hitch in your breath and the way your moans would increase in volume and pitch when he enclosed his lips around the sensitive bud.

With one hand buried in his damp blonde hair, the other pinched at your nipple, offering yourself more stimulation as you were so desperate and horny. Reiner began to hum and moan into your pussy the more he ate you out, looking up from between your legs and letting his eyes roll back into his head at the blissed out expression on your face. You snuck a peak when you felt him come off, moaning vocally at the way his chin and goat-tee were glistening in your arousal.

Climbing more onto the bed to hover over you, Reiner swiped two fingers through your cunt, pushing just the tip of his fingers inside as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

"How badly do you want another?" Knowing the answer but craving to hear it from you, slowly feeding you more and more of his two digits, smiling at the way you flinched to the cool metal of his wedding band entering you.

"Reiner-" protesting because he knew better than to make you beg, not when you were offering yourself so readily for him.

"Tell me baby."

The slight demand in his voice had you rutting into his fingers that hadn't moved since being pushed all the way inside you, resting inside your cunt like a promise.

"Badly, I want it so badly Reiner." Sweetening your voice, reaching up to stroke one side of his face, hoping the plea in your voice was enough to replace his fingers with his dick which twitched against your inner thigh.

"Yea?" Slowly pulling his fingers out, and adjusting his stance to where you felt his dick move off your thigh, knowing it were inches from your pussy. "How long?"

"Reiner, for fuck's sake-" Whining at yet another question and the way his fingers suddenly left you empty, just to be teased with his cockhead at your entrance, torturing you almost.

"C'mon," Reaching the hand that was just inside you to cup your chin, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip, a sort of begging look in his eyes now.

"For a couple of months, fuck please."

He chuckled under his breath, pushing his hips slightly forward until he barely started to breach you, stopping himself. You were at your limit, pussy throbbing for longer than you'd like at this point and he was still teasing you.

"You really want me to fuck another baby into you sweetheart?" Inching more of his dick inside you, prompting you to arch off the bed and squeeze your eyes shut. The question sounded rhetorical from his tone, giving him a simple pleading whimper as an answer, and thank god he took it and didn't prod you for more.

Your breath was coming out heavy as his thick cock stretched you open, slowly bottoming out and then letting you adjust before tucking his hand behind your head and holding you at the nape, making you look at him. Reiner's brow's upturned when he dragged himself half way out, lips parted the perfect amount to fan the fire of lust in your stomach and clench around him. He grunted, snapping himself back inside you and starting a fast rhythm. You sighed as his thighs smacked against your inner thighs, fisting the sheets above your head and maintaining the near perfect arch.

A firm hand held you at your side, fingertips digging and pressing into your flesh it were sure to bruise, but you loved the little marks he left on your skin, whether faint or apparent.

"Fuck I've been thinking about giving you another for a while now, just waiting for you to ask."

Confessing as he thrusted rapidly into you, groaning after nearly each word he spoke, making your flutter around him. Reiner moved the hand holding you at your side to grab at your hip, lifting them off the bed so he could send his cock deeper inside you. And fuck did it feel good, crying out his name and slapping the hand not fisting the sheets to his bicep.

"Harder, Reiner please."

The request sent him into abandon, pulling you back onto his dick as you were attempting to flee from it, leaning over your body until your noses touched and his warm breath fanned over your lips.

"Dammit baby you're going to be the fucking death of me-" Growling out as he came off of you, sitting back on his feet and taking both of your legs and bending them back to hook over his arms, pressing them back into your chest as he returned to hovering over you.

His dick drilled in and out of you endlessly, making a mess between the two of you, Reiner's head was dipped down and watching you cunt swallow his cock with every thrust. His eyes finally met you when you sobbed about how close you were, seeing the lust glazed over in his golden eyes, the want ever the more present.

"Cum on my dick and I'll give you another baby." Speaking into your lips, pressing his forehead to yours and feeling the way his brows pinched as he repadetly buried himself in your cunt.

Even a few second later, arms thrown around his neck for stability, were you coming has hard as you've ever come before, barely given anytime to recover as your husband slammed into you, chasing is own orgasm. He couldn't help but mutter above you, little curses and a few spare words as his hips started to break rhythm, indicating he was so close.

"C'mon Reiner, get your pretty little wife pregnant again, I know you want to." Offering encouragement, twisting your fingers in the back of his hair, pulling and making him hiss.

Your little statement did the trick as he thrusted into you one final time and kept himself flush as he came inside you. There was so much it leaked while he was still inside you pressing little kisses to your face, returning to the devoted husband you were familiar with.

Reiner didn't even pull out after he was finished and you knew it was because he was being greedy and not wanting a drop to go to waste, intent of making sure he succeeded in his goal.

"We're not sleeping like this." You finally said after he still hadn't pulled out, giving him a slightly annoyed and stern look.

"You're right we're not, because we aren't going to sleep." Laughing breathlessly as he parted your lips with a seductive kiss, and you should've know you'd open up the floodgates once you mentioned wanting another baby, accepting that until that test came back positive, Reiner would stay between your legs until then.

[gracieeilish]

HAPPY PRIDE GRACIEEEE💜💙💚💛🧡❤️

I need 6 and 20 with bestfriend!billie showing r! that she can make her cum harder than her exs

pride prompts!! 🌈✨🏳️‍🌈

happy pride

6. open those pretty eyes for me

20. feels better when a girl does it, huh?

warnings: smut. duh. r!receiving

an: billie and i are in the same “grade” (im a few months younger than her) so i just thought i’d let y’all know she would have had red roots her senior year of college, if she chose that route, and that does things to me.

prompt list

banner by @kodaswrld

billie’s peaceful night home alone was interrupted by the sound of her roommate slamming the front door closed and loudly whining and groaning before even fully taking their shoes off.

she perked up from where she lay on the couch to see you fiddling with your crossbody bag, fumbling with it trying to get it off. followed by you fighting with the buckles on your shoes, throwing the first one to the side followed by the second one a whole minute later. finally your sweater came off and was thrown onto the counter before you stomped into the living room to throw yourself onto the couch.

��well hello to you too!” billie snorted at your little temper tantrum.

“NOT now, billie.” your voice was muffled by a pillow, but the bite was still there. she raised her hands in mock surrender before settling back into her spot to continue watching her show-

“are you even gonna ask what happened?”

ok. so not finishing this episode tonight, billie thought to herself.

“i’m guessing the date didn’t go too well?” she said.

“it was HORRIBLE!! i mean dictionary definition horrible. he was late, he sat on his phone while we waited for a table because he thought I had made the reservation, he barely asked me any questions, scarfed his food down like a dog, i mean should i continue?”

billie bit back a laugh, this did sound like a disaster but you were still her best friend and she felt for you.

“well did you hook up?” she knew the answer to that.

“of course we hooked up, what the fuck billie? if he’s gonna be this bad at dinner, i should at least get sex out of the night.” billie couldn’t argue with that logic, nodding in agreement.

“okay so spill!! tell me everything!!!” she poked at your arm.

you shifted over on the couch to sit criss cross, in front of her.

“ok so, as expected,”

“he’s a terrible kisser,” you both said in unison.

“correct. horrible, genuinely don’t think he has control over his tongue.” billie snorted at that.

you then proceeded to explain the comically horrible sex you had with this man. he couldn’t find your clit, couldn’t find your g-spot, took forever for him to stick it in, and then he came in like five minutes.

“and he didn’t even offer to drive me home!!! i had to PAY FOR AN UBER. after that monstrosity of a date. how pathetic is that?!” billie put her hand on your shoulder, rubbing softly.

“i mean seriously!! how difficult is it to find someone who can be normal, actually good at sex and dare i say, slightly romantic?!”

billie furrowed her brows, thinking for a second. she watched you run your fingers through your hair, and let your palms rest on your cheeks, holding your face up.

“what?” you asked suddenly self conscious of her deep gaze.

“you’re bi right?” you nodded.

“have you ever been with a girl? like on a date or a hook up or somethin?”

“um no. not really. but that doesn’t mean anything!”

“no no no, it doesn’t. i’m not going down that route, you’re still so valid in your sexuality. i was just gonna say, i think you need to go out with a girl. you’ve only been dating men yet you’re attracted to women too!! i think you need one night for a woman to blow your mind and your standards are gonna change completely.”

“oh yeah? and where is this magical woman who’s gonna blow my mind??” you asked scoffing, standing up from the couch to head to the kitchen.

“billie?” you called from the kitchen, her silence now noticeable to you.

“yeah?”

“did you hear me?”

“yeah i heard you.”

“oh.. um okay.”

the silence in the room was thick. even as you opened the fridge to grab a pitcher of water for a drink, the door opening sounded like a rusty gate creaking and the water in your cup, like the ocean.

“y/n, baby?”

baby. that was new…

“yeah, billie?”

“c’mere.”

carefully you put the pitcher back in the fridge and set your cup on the counter for later. her head was turned to the side slightly, to watch you as you walked back over to the couch. awkwardly, you stood in front of her, waiting for her to say something.

“do you trust me?”

“bils, of course i trust you.”

“then let me help you..”

you were confused. you sat down on the ottoman next to the couch, placing a hand on her knee.

“help me? how are you gonna help me?”

with that she lurched forward, kissing you. you were shocked at first, eyes wide open, but soon melted into the feeling.

billie pulled back slightly but was brought right back in when your hand grabbed her cheeks. billie reached out holding your waist, helping you onto her lap, straddling her thighs. only when oxygen was needed did you both pull away.

“open those pretty eyes for me,” she whispered, chuckling softly at the way your eyes stayed closed long after the kiss ended. you were so sure this was a dream and didn’t want to wake up.

when you did, you were met with billie’s smiling face, a little smug, but mostly proud and giddy.

“hi.”

“hi.”

“still want me to help you out?” you nodded furiously, letting her pick you up and wrap your legs around her waist, carrying you to her bedroom.

with a flop and a muffled giggle, you landed on your back, billie hovering overtop of you

“been dreaming about this for so long,” billie’s words were slurred and muffled as she started to kiss down your jaw and neck. you let out a gasp when she (quickly) found your sweet spot…. she had to try so hard not to let her smugness show.

you sat up a bit to let billie’s wandering hands unzip your dress from the back, pulling the strapless dress down your body. she sat back on her feels for a second marveling at your body, clad in a matching red lace set. her brows furrowed and a small pout formed on her lips at the thought of some man seeing you like this tonight and probably not batting an eyelash at how perfect you looked.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you teased, nudging her with your knee.

“shut up, you.” she dove back into kissing you, your hands in her hair, hers roaming around your now practically bare skin.

quickly the two of you worked to remove her own layers. her t-shirt ending up on the floor, and a mix of giggles filled the air when her jeans zipper got caught. finally the two of you laid together, bare.

“god, you’re so perfect,” the way billie’s brows furrowed you would think she was about to cry.

you blushed at her compliment as she kissed your cheek before she got up from the bed. she returned donning her strap, making your eyes go wide and your mouth water.

“i’ll go slow,” she whispered. with a soft, caring hand she parted your thighs letting them fall open for her. she slotted herself between them, grabbing the dildo and letting it collect some wetness before she lined herself up.

“you ready?” you nodded.

carefully she pushed herself in, slow as not to jostle you. your heart melted at how gentle she was being, after all you were starting to get a bit sore from your endeavors with your delightful date earlier.

“i’m all the way in. do you need a second? or you feel good?” she pushed some hair from your face, letting some of her body weight rest on top of you.

“m’good. please move bils,” your voice came out breathy and choppy making billie chuckle softly. she propped herself up over you on her elbows, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back into kissing, making you moan out and throw your head back.

“yeahh baby?? you feeling good doll face?” she teased watching your face contort in pleasure.

“yeah,” billie could have cum from the way you moaned out your confirmation. breathy and whiney, just for her.

“feels better when a girl does it huh?” she was so smug, smirking when you lifted your head up to playfully glare at her.

“just make me cum idiot,” you giggled trying to hide your flushing cheeks.

“oh i plan to, my dear. just you wait sweet thing…”

an: i’m sorry if these aren’t super smutty, i’m still getting the hang of it and i only have so many moves i’ve written about so far😂😭 i promise these will get better over the month, just bare with me🥺

[eufezco]

WHAT WE DID 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

synopsis – after arriving to salt lake with ellie and joel, the fireflies take her away from you and you did what it took to get her back.

a/n – because since the last episode aired the only thing i can think about is destroying everyone ( ;) ) in that fucking hospital with joel. we're all in this together as they say in high school musical 😭 also this is my first time writing something with so many action and english isn't my first language so i hope you can understand everything

c/w – blood, violence, guns, shooting

angst. fluff

the last of us and pedro pascal masterlist

joel's eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, his expression unreadable. your arm rested against the window, hand holding your head up as you watched the trees blur past. your ears still rang from the shots, you could still feel the trigger in your fingers, the way the recoil bit into your shoulder, the smell of the blood staining your hands.

neither of you said a word. the windows of the car were closed shut, holding in the silence inside. the only sound that mattered was ellie's steady breathing from the back seats.

she let out a soft hum in her sleep, barely more than a breath, but enough for joel’s eyes to snap to the rear view mirror like a reflex. he had it angled just for her, didn’t care much for what was behind them anymore. you turned to look at her. ellie hadn’t moved. still curled up in the backseat, still in that hospital gown, though your jacket was wrapped around her like a shield. her face was calm, just sleep.

—she okay? —joel asked, voice low.

—yeah, —you said. —she's good.

it didn’t matter that joel tried to act like a human shield for ellie and you when that thing exploded, he still went down, and you still ended up in a hospital bed right beside him, with a strong headache, your body hurting. but none of that mattered the second your eyes landed on the red firefly symbol stamped across the wall. you pushed the sheets back, swung your legs over the side of the bed. you tried to stand, but the dizziness hit hard, your knees buckled, vision blurred, the taste of iron thick in your mouth.

—joel, —you swallowed and had to sit on the edge of your bed. his eyes opened slowly, he let out a low groan from his chest as he blinked against the harsh lights, —joel, are you okay? where's ellie?

and then marlene appeared, telling you how grateful she was to both of you for escorting ellie safe to the fireflies, yet joel and you cared only about one thing: where was she? marlene kept talking, trying to distract both of you, about purpose, about how special ellie was.

—just take us to her, —joel rubbed a hand over his face as he sat up straighter on the bed, the pain still into every movement.

—i can't, —that was all it took. your body went still, alert. she couldn’t? —she's being prepped for surgery.

joel’s head snapped toward her. your stomach dropped. —what kind of surgery? —he asked, looking around the room, confused. your eyes wouldn't left marlene. she took a few seconds before answering.

—our doctor thinks that the cordyceps in ellie has grown with her since brith.

—why is she in surgery? —you asked, sharp and clear. you wanted the truth, no more bluffing.

—he's gonna remove it from her, multiply the cells in a lab and then we can give it to everyone. he thinks it could be a cure.

—cordyceps grows inside the brain, —joel said immediately after.

marlene pressed her lips together, —it does.

you felt the breath catch in your chest, like your lungs had forgotten how to work. your hands trembled, but you curled them into fists. you looked at joel. his eyes were locked on marlene, but you could see it in his face. the way his shoulders had gone rigid, the way his fingers were holding onto the edge of the bed.

—we didn't tell her, we didn't cause her any fear, there won't be pain.

—no, no, no, no... —you muttered under your breath, pushing yourself up from the bed. your legs trembled, barely holding your weight, but you didn’t care. you needed to get to the door and you needed to get to her. one of the two guards flanking the exit moved and with no warning, the back of his rifle cracked against your legs.

your knees gave out, hitting the floor hard. —hey! —joel shouted. he was on his feet in an instant but the second guard was faster. the butt of his rifle slammed into joel’s side, and he dropped too, falling to his knees next to you.

marlene looked down to both of you. she pressed her lips together and just mumbled an i'm sorry, i have no other choice.

—we do, —joel said. his whole body tensed, ready to snap. you didn’t have to look at him to feel it, you had the same expression. fury. grief. betrayal. you looked up at marlene through teary eyes. yours were filled with disbelief, desperation, joel's eyes were pure wrath.

marlene shook her head looking at you two, —walk them out to the highway, leave them there. if they try anything, shoot them.

one of the guards grabbed joel by the arm, dragging him roughly to his feet. you tried to get up but the second guard didn’t wait. he shoved the barrel of his rifle against your back, hard, making you fall back to your knees. joel clenched his jaw, approaching the second guard but before he could reach him, the first guard grabbed him by his shoulder and yanked him back.

—don’t ever touch her again, —joel growled, eyes locked on the one who pushed you.

in that moment, you still on your knees and joel standing in front of you, you shared a glance, like two ends of a loaded wire. the same thought crossed your minds: we get out of here dead or with ellie. joel’s eyes darkened just enough for you to know he’d already chosen. you felt the same burning in your chest. you'd chosen too.

you left marlene behind and the guards got you through the hospital. you two walked between them. joel ahead of you, his hand behind him, stretched just enough so his fingers could find yours. you reached out, not hesitating, lacing your fingers with his in the space between you.

joel stopped halfway down the stairs, the guards barked a move! and pushed you forward. you both stumbled down a few steps. his hand held yours tighter and you understood that it was time. he slammed his elbow into the first guard’s face, bone meeting bone with a crack. the man stumbled back, you ducked and moved aside, slipping out of the way just in time as joel grabbed the first guard’s rifle before it hit the ground, and without even looking, aimed it toward the second guard.

bang.

you grabbed the dead man's rifle from the floor, and in one fluid motion, aimed it at the first guard still conscious. he was against the wall, one hand pressed over his bloodied nose. joel raised his rifle beside you. —where is she? —you asked.

—fuck you, —he said. and before he was done, you pulled the trigger.

joel and you looked at each other. there was no going back, whatever waited for you above, you were going to face it. together. you gave him a small nod. joel turned and started up the stairs, rifle raised, steps quiet. you followed close behind, watching his back like he watched yours.

you made your way to the top floor. every hallway was fire, every corner, another shadow with a gun. but you didn’t slow down. joel was just ahead, or just behind, depending on who needed cover. you moved like you'd done this a thousand times together. each time you pulled the trigger, each time a firefly dropped to the ground dead, it wasn’t hate in your chest. it was fear, desperation.

it was family.

you didn’t see enemies, you saw obstacles between you and her. between the three of you, between what the world wanted to take and what you refused to give up. your feet moved faster than your thoughts which is why you didn’t see him. he came out of nowhere, rushing from a side hall. his knife drove down into your arm, really close to your shoulder. the man pushed forward, trying to pin you, but before he could finish what he started

bang.

a single shot, clean, perfect, straight through the head, and his body hit the floor. joel was already there, eyes sharp, his focus was all on you. —shit, —joel lowered his rifle after the shot as he muttered with anger at the world, at the fireflies, at the fact that you were bleeding in front of him. —hold on. i got you.

your breath came in short gasps, the pain was sharp, the blood was hot, soaking through your shirt, running fast down your arm but the adrenaline was stronger. you shook your head, —we keep going.

he didn’t argue, he saw the determination on your face. he thought about it before he nodded once, jaw tight. you had to get to ellie.

the flickering light at the end of the hallway caught your attention. joel and you had cleared it, bodies left behind in silence and blood, rifles low now but ready. the echo of the last shot still seemed to ring in your ears, the pain in your arm ran through your whole body. joel stepped closer to the door, breath measured, eyes locked on it. he raised the barrel of his rifle and pressed it gently to the metal, pushing it open inch by inch.

joel lowered his rifle when he saw her. you straightened your back despite the weight of pain pulling you down and you lowered your rifle too. what did they do to her? what were they planning on doing to her? how could you have put it directly into the wolf's mouth? she was unconscious on the operating table. pale. still. surrounded by blue gowns and gloved hands.

—unhook her.

one of the doctors turned, startled. without a second thought, his hand grabbed the scalpel on the table beside him and also without a second thought, joel shot him. he didn't flinch, neither did you because if joel hadn’t made that shot, you would’ve.

—unhook her! —you repeated what joel said.

the nurses moved fast, trying to avoid the same fate as the doctor. the monitors stopped beeping and they pulled the needle free from her arm, and you saw the small, shallow prick of blood that followed.

—turn around, —joel ordered to the nurse, aiming his gun at them.

you approached ellie quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. you gently caressed her hair and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, —we're here, you're safe, —you mumbled to her in case she could hear you.

joel was completely numb, his eyes were distant, as if he was still processing how you almost lost her. he moved quickly, almost mechanically, to the small supply closet in the corner of the room. he grabbed bandages, alcohol, thread and needles, anything that could be used to treat you and put it inside his pack. then he reached you and ellie, his focus shifted completely. his hand gently passed down ellie’s neck and with the same careful movement, he slid his other hand behind her knees, lifting her just a little more securely in his arms, his grip solid but not too tight.

the nurses stood frozen, their backs to you, hands raised in silent surrender. they didn’t dare move, barely breathed. they’d seen your faces. they’d seen what you and joel were willing to do. it wasn’t personal, but they were witnesses now and you couldn’t leave anyone who might come back for ellie. or for you. or for joel.

your shot echoed in the sterile, tense air, a sound so sharp it almost didn’t seem real, and the nurses fell to the floor.

you stepped out of the operating room first, your rifle at the ready. behind you, joel moved with ellie in his arms. you reached the elevator, your eyes scanning the empty hallway, but the quiet was short. the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor, drew your attention. you tensed, instinctively raising your rifle.

—you go with ellie, i'll take care of that.

joel's voice came softer, almost pleading. —don't make me leave you.

you turned your head just enough to meet his eyes. you stepped in close, your free hand rising to cradle the back of his neck, forehead to forehead. —i'll meet you in the parking lot, i swear. get her safe.

joel stepped into the elevator as the footsteps rounded a corner far down the hall, still unseen but coming fast. the doors began to close and you gave him a small nod of reassure. you stayed back against the edge of the elevator shaft, just out of sight, waiting for the person to get to where you were hiding.

her braid hung low and her hand trembled around the grip of her gun. she stood in front of the door like she wasn’t ready to go in, like some part of her still didn’t want to believe what might be waiting for her inside. and you shot her. quick. right in the back of her head and she fell to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. she was young, probably a few years older than ellie but you had no choice, it was you or her.

you took the elevator, feeling the dizziness of your wound finally hit you. your hand moved to your arm and you hissed when you pressed to stop it from bleeding anymore. when you got to the parking lot, you heard a voice.

—it's not too late. even now, even after what you two have done. we can still find a way.

marlene.

you walked slowly, trying to go unnoticed, until you realized there was a gun in her hand aimed directly at joel and ellie, her finger already on the trigger. you didn’t think. you didn’t wait. you couldn’t lift your rifle with both hands, your injured arm hung useless by your side, so you raised it with one. it shook under the weight, your hold unsteady, vision narrowing. but your aim? your aim was clear. the bullet hit her low in the back and she fell to the ground.

joel moved fast, cradling ellie tighter. he opened the back door of the car and eased ellie inside, laying her across the seats as gently as he could, brushing her forehead before pulling your jacket tighter around her. then he turned in a hurry, eyes scanning until they landed on you. you were leaning against the wall now, rifle still in one hand, the other gripping your bleeding side, your knees looked ready to give out.

—got you, —he muttered, breath hot against your temple. you nodded, swallowing a groan as you moved. every step felt like fire, but he kept one arm firmly around your hips, guiding you to the car.

you stopped. joel felt it and he turned with you, both of you staring down at marlene where she lay on the floor, blood pooling slowly beneath her. her hand was raised, shaking, reaching toward you.

—wait, wait, wait, no. please. let me go.

your rifle was still in your hand, but lowered now. joel looked at you, not pressuring, just watching. the choice was yours.

—you’d never stop. —your voice quiet. —you’d come for her again.

and you shot one last time into her head. no hesitation. you leaned into joel without a word, your weight folding into the side of his body as his arm around your hips tightened, steadying you. he helped you to get to the car, his grip never leaving you.

you fell into the passenger seat with a grunt, the door slamming shut beside you as joel slid in behind the wheel. he didn’t waste a second. the engine roared, tires squealing, —press your arm, —he said, eyes moving from the road to you and back. you needed to get as far as possible from the fireflies before even thinking about stop and focus on the pain at your arm. and you did as he said, your hand to your wound, wincing hard, your fingers slick with blood.

a couple of miles passed like a blur. he drove in silence. ellie lay unconscious in the backseat, small and pale under your jacket. you were in the passenger seat, blood soaking through your shirt and running down your arm. his heart beating so hard against his ribs he swore you could hear it. he pulled off the road without warning, parking behind a cluster of rusted-out cars lining an overgrown roadside. joel rubbed his forehead. he slammed the driver’s door shut and came around to your side of the car.

he crouched down, eyes scanning your face before dropping to the blood still soaking your side. —shit, —he muttered. joel's hand careful pinched your chin. —hey. look at me. you still with me? —you gave a small nod. —alright, i'm gonna get you out of the car. you need fresh air and i'll patch you up. —he helped you to get out, his hands holding your hips as he closed the door behind you and sat you on the ground, letting you rest your back against the car. joel grabbed the pack from the back seat, dropping to his knees by your side. he started digging through the supplies he had grabbed from the or.

you swallowed hard as you watched joel rip the sleeve of your shirt with the knife. the alcohol from your flask hitting your wound was the worst, the sting was almost unbearable. then he reached for the needle, his hands trembling more than you’d ever seen before which made it very hard for him pass the threat through the needle's eye. his hands were still unsteady as he began to stitch the wound, the needle going through your skin, pulling the edges together. you closed your eyes shut and held your breath, your fingers dug into the dirt beside you.

—breathe. please. you're scaring the hell outta me.

you opened your eyes, met his, and let out the breath you didn’t realize you were still holding.

—hurts like hell, —you whispered, the corners of your mouth twitching, like you were trying to make it a joke but didn’t quite have the strength.

—i know, `m sorry. i'm almost done.

you looked down at your stitched-up wound, the edges of your torn skin now held together in a rough but solid line. blood still stained the surrounding skin and joel's hands but it wasn’t pouring out anymore. he carefully wrapped a clean bandage around your arm, putting a little pressure on the wound to make sure it stayed in place. —you did great, joel. thank you.

you closed your eyes and let your head rest against the metal of the car. joel sat next to you, his arms hung loosely on his knees. you hadn’t had time to process what you just did. the violence, the blood, the choices.

—we did what we had to do.

you nodded slowly, —we couldn't lose her, joel. she's like our-

you stopped before the word left your lips. daughter. but it hung there anyway—unspoken but clear. ellie was more than just a kid. she was more than just a cargo. joel didn’t need to hear the word to understand.

—yeah, she is.

you sat there together for a moment, enjoying the silence as your head rested on his shoulder. he didn’t speak, but his arm around you told you he was just as lost in his thoughts. then, without a word, before getting into the car again, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. and joel drove, as fast as he could, to jackson.

ellie rubbed her eyes in the backseat. joel's hands on the steering wheel tightened, your back tensed. she tried to sit but the effects of the anesthesia were still there, —it's alright, you're with us. take it slow, the drugs are still wearing off.

—i was with the fireflies and the... what drugs?

joel swallowed and you decided to talk for him. you told her they had run tests, that it turned out she wasn’t the only one and there were others like her, people who were immune. you said the doctors tried everything, but none of it worked. that all their research for a cure had led nowhere. and that they’d stopped trying.

she took a second before answering. then, she asked for her clothes, after noticing that she was wearing an hospital gown. joel told her there had been raiders. that things got messy. he said you barely made it out. you stayed quiet beside him, the lie sat on top of the others, fragile but necessary.

—were people hurt?

joel nodded. she noticed joel's hands on the steering wheel with dried blood and the way you held your arm close to your body, the dark patch of blood that had seeped through the edge of the bandage.

—is marlene okay?

you swallowed but said nothing. joel didn’t answer either. ellie waited but that silence told her more than any words could. she turned her back, curling into herself. joel took your hand, the one resting on your leg. his thumb brushed lightly over your skin, comforting, like a reminder of the words he said before,

we did what we had to do.

[juceys]

been yours jimmy uso

— based on this request; years of pushed back feelings finally come to light after asking him to be your fake date to a wedding.

pairing jimmy uso x fem!reader wc 2.8k+ genre fluff warnings explicit language note this one goes to my bby @bratzzzdoll :-) sigh loverboy jimmy is so cutie

listened to let me love you by mario, so into you by tamia, give me all by sammy johnson ft fiji.

you wish the ground your heels are sinking into would just open up and swallow you. anything to get out of here. ironic really — because everything about this should be comforting. the dj’s playing a nostalgic tune that’d usually have you swaying, fairy lights decorate the tent you’re standing in, friends and family surrounding you.

but instead you’re focused on the scene ahead of you.

jon. laughing with trinity.

you hated how your stomach twisted, the cupcake in your hand suddenly unappetizing. you don’t care — you shouldn’t care. it’s not even any of your business. you asked jon to be your fake date to this wedding, to save yourself from answering the pestering questions from peers and family members about when your wedding would be.

it sounded like a great idea — until now, you just feel like throwing yourself onto a highway of oncoming traffic.

you and jon were just friends. close friends. dangerously close, maybe.

especially since he’d said yes to your idea a bit too quick. especially since your heart fluttered like it forgot how to beat and had to start over again when he showed up in his all black suit, looking like trouble wrapped in silk and silver.

but now… now you’re just a girl at a wedding, staring at her fake date who’s smiling with his ex girlfriend. ouch.

-

when you arrived to the wedding, hand in hand with jon, everyone had complimented you on “finally picking a good one” — whatever that meant. in fact, the compliments were so frequent that when you were finally just alone with jon, he asked you about it.

“so, all these people fo’real think i’m your man?”

you groan, shoving a water bottle in his hands. “don’t say it like that.”

his grin was instant, teeth white and smile cocky. “so your whole family thinks you finally bagged someone?”

you nodded, looking around the venue. “mhm, and if you could maybe not say ‘bagged someone’ at the table, that’d be great.”

“damn, you tryna erase all my charm.”

“no, i’m trying to survive this wedding without my aunt forcing a fertility smoothie down my throat,” you wince.

he laughs, then softens. “i gotchu ma, i’ll play my part.”

you looked at him — at the way his chain fell above his tie, the way his hand was still intertwined with yours. you know jimmy. you know how he jokes too much when he gets nervous, the facial expressions he makes and what they mean, and how he’ll always fix your necklaces if they spun backwards.

he smells like something warm and familiar. something that’s so close, yet so far. and you hate how easily your guard comes down when around him.

but most of all, you hate how he isn’t yours.

you’d never let yourself go there though. but damn, he made it hard not to.

-

the ceremony went by without a hitch. jon kissed your cheek whenever your cousins looked, whispering “you still owe me a steak after this,” with a wink that made your knees buckle. you managed to maintain your fake relationship with jon on the surface without feeling any different.

but it wasn’t until the reception that things started to shift.

you moved from person to person, making small talk before finally sitting down and chatting with your grandma when she pointed out how jon wasn’t by your side. you scanned the crowd, and that’s when you spotted them.

jon talking with trinity — fuck. you forgot that she was good friends with the groom, while you’re cousins with the bride. it makes sense that she’s here.

she looked beautiful, of course she did. emerald green dress hugging her body in all the right places, curls perfectly framing her face. and jon? jon looked like he was right at home talking to her. relaxed. natural. like they were slipping into a rhythm they hadn’t quite lost.

they weren’t touching — but they didn’t have to be.

it was their smiles. the way she nudged his arm with hers. the way all 32 of her teeth showed. the way he laughed, deep and easy, like the world around him didn’t matter anymore.

and it felt like someone punched you in the gut, superkicked you in the face and gave you an uso splash all at once.

because you have no right to be jealous. no right to feel anything, because this wasn’t real to begin with.

it’s not like you have a problem with trinity, or feel anything negative towards her. you loved her since day one — still do. but after she and jon split, it got harder to stay close with busy schedules. he was the sole link between you two, and when their link broke, so did yours with trinity.

you didn’t know what to do. you didn’t want to be rude and not say hi. but you also don’t want to intrude on their conversation, especially not when they look like that.

you were so stuck in your inner dilemma, you didn’t realize their conversation had ended or notice jon walking towards you now.

“thought i lost you for a minute ma,” he says, sliding into the seat next to you. “you’re a pretty busy girl, huh?”

you flash a quick and small smile. “didn’t want to interrupt,” you say, eyes glancing over at trinity’s direction.

he follows your gaze for a second. he doesn’t say anything at first, though the small falter of his smile tell you enough.

“wasn’t anything like that.”

“didn’t say it was.”

“you don’t have to.”

you look up at him. the silence between you two being heavy. tense, maybe.

his eyes soften after meeting yours and he shifts closer. “hey,” he says quieter now. “you good?”

you nod. too fast. too fake. and jon knows it.

“mhm.”

“liar.”

he sighs. “c’mon baby, i was just catching up with her. nothing else.”

you hate this. you hate that he knows and understands why you’re mad. but what you hate even more, is that now you know he’s aware of how you feel towards him. you hate that he feels like he has to reassure you over this.

“i know, i’m not mad or anything. just… didn’t expect to see you with her, that’s all.” you look away from him now, looking straight ahead where your cousin stands, about to make a toast.

his jaw tightens. “okay.”

-

the rest of the night passed in flashes.

dancing, laughing, toasts.

and jon was right there alongside you, hand at the small of your back. but this time it felt… different.

now, you’re too aware.

of how close he stood.

of how warm he felt.

of his hands that’d wander when dancing — not too far, but just enough.

of the reassuring circles he’d rub when in uncomfortable conversations.

of the ache in your chest that refused to leave.

you watched him laugh with your cousin. saw him helping your grandma, quickly becoming a favorite of hers. noticed how the brother figures in your life easily took him under their wing. and all you could think was: he’s not even mine.

suddenly, this whole situation felt too much for you. overbearing, almost.

you excused yourself from your table right before dessert, earning a concerned look from jon. you made your way back into the main building, but instead you went down a random hallway and found a secluded balcony. it was quiet, calming.

it was exactly what you needed, your thoughts and surroundings were beginning to get too loud. you wrap your arms around yourself and stare up at the sky, wishing the moon and stars would explain the chaos in your head — and in your chest.

“‘m starting to think you just like to disappear on me,” a voice startles you. jon’s, of course. but his voice was soft, quiet.

you didn’t look back at him. “just needed to breathe,” you exhale.

there’s a beat of silence before he moves beside you, leaning onto the rail. “you mad at me?”

you bite your lip. “no.”

“then why you keep running from me?”

you sigh. “‘m not.”

“liar,” he says… again. except this time, he sounds wounded from your answer. this time, it escapes his lips like a truth that he doesn’t want to swallow.

“you always do this, y’know?”

you turn your head slightly. “do what?”

“pull back the second things start to feel real.” he wasn’t angry. he wasn’t frustrated. he sounded, hurt. and that alone almost broke you.

you flinched. “jon—“

“nah, you asked me to come here wit’ you,” he said gently, though you could feel the heat of where it was coming from. “said it was fake, just for show. and i said yeah. i said yeah, even though i knew damn well it was gon’ mess with my head, and i knew i shouldn’t have said yes — but i can’t help myself when it comes to you, ma.”

you feel your heart skipping beats. what hurts the most is the fact he hasn’t raised his voice at all. he’s still calm. still somewhat collected. because you know — no matter how angry, frustrated, or upset you can make him — he won’t ever raise his voice at you. he won’t ever make you feel lesser than. and somehow, that hurts more. honestly, you think you’d rather be stabbed with a knife.

you look down at your feet. “i didn’t mean to mess with your head,” you say, voice quiet.

he turns to face you for a second, “yeah… but you still did.” then he turns back to lean on the railing, looking out into the night.

there’s another beat of silence. you look at jon, heart melting at the sight. to the world, he’s jimmy uso. an uncrowned king. twin to jey. a member of the anoa’i bloodline in the wwe. to your family and friends tonight, he’s jonathan. your ‘boyfriend.’ easygoing. funny.

but to you? he’s just jon. jo. jdawg. all the unfunny nicknames you’ve come up with over the years. a guy whose always been there for you, physically or over the phone. one of the only people who really listen to you. the only person who has your detailed and, in his words, picky waffle house order memorized.

your best friend that you’ve been crushing on for forever. except you never accepted it, until now.

you twiddle with your fingers as you break the silence. “saw you with trinity.”

he looks at you and blinks. “yeah. i told you, we was just catching up. she wasn’t even gonna come today.”

“you looked happy,” you say, your voice low. suddenly you felt small under his gaze. “comfortable, you know? like… like you used to be.”

he stood up straight, moving closer to you. close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “so what? you mad about that?”

“i’m not mad.”

“you jealous?”

you hesitated. he noticed.

his jaw clenched. “baby, just say it. for once, say what you really feelin’, ma.”

you look away, “i can’t... you wouldn’t get it.”

he brings his hand up to your face, forcing you to look at him. “then make me get it.”

you take a deep breath.

“i asked you to be my date tonight because i was tired of showing up alone. tired of the relentless comments from my family about when my wedding would be. and because i thought if i could pull this off with anyone, it’d be you. because you’re always there. you always show up for me. and i’m grateful that you do. i’m grateful that you’re someone i can count on, and for agreeing and being here with me. but somewhere between the car ride and champagne toast, i forgot this was fake.”

his breath caught.

you kept going, though your voice was beginning to shake. “you know, when we first met, i remember thinking to myself that you were the finest thing i’ve seen in a while. but as we got closer, i couldn’t let myself give into that. i wouldn’t. so i never accepted it. i just let our relationship be as ‘best friends’ and pushed my feelings aside. and i thought i got over it — thought after all these years, i didn’t feel that way towards you anymore.”

now you can feel the tears starting to form and well in your eyes. “until today. today, i started holding your hand when no one was looking — when i didn’t have to hold your hand. i started talking about you to my family as if we’re a married couple. i started wondering if you could hear my heart pounding out of my chest when you held me as we danced… wondering if you were looking at like me like i wasn’t just a friend, or if i really was just losing my mind.”

jon stared at you, eyes dark, intense. you could see the storm brewing behind them. yet, he was still unreadable. you couldn’t tell just what was going on in his head.

“then i saw you with her,” you whisper. “i felt… lost. confused. angry. but then it hit me — i’m not your girl. you’re not mine. i don’t get to feel jealous. i don’t get to want more. i don’t get to yearn for more. because this whole thing was fake to begin with… and i’m just the idiot who caught feelings along the way.”

a suffocating and heavy silence had settled.

you looked down. “i know this wasn’t real… that this was all fake. i get it. i’m the one who prefaced this anyways… i just didn’t think it’d hurt.”

then his voice broke through, low and hoarse.

“it’s been real to me.”

you froze.

what the hell does that mean?

your eyes met his.

“i said yes to this… ‘cause i been wantin’ this — wantin’ you — way before you even asked me.”

he lets out a breath. “i thought — maybe if i was close enough, you’d start feelin’ the same too. figured it was better than acting like i don’t feel this way at all.”

you opened your mouth, but he wasn’t finished.

“you think i liked watchin’ you laugh with other guys? when i know they ain’t even funny? think it didn’t kill me seein’ other guys flirt wit’ you when they couldn’t tell you a damn thing about yo’self? when they don’t know the way you like your pancakes or how you sleep cuddling that plushie i got you ages ago?”

your throat tightened.

he stepped impossibly closer as his hands reached for yours. “you said i looked happy talkin’ to trin… but you wanna know the truth?”

you nod, barely.

“i was tryna distract myself from you, mama. from how beautiful you look tonight. from how bad i wanted to kiss you in front of everyone and ruin this damn lie between us. from how scared i was that when you woke up tomorrow, this wouldn’t have meant anything.”

“you think this ain’t real? that i don’t see you? he asks, voice cracking. “you think i ain’t notice how you been grabbing my arm tonight when you’re uncomfortable? think i don’t know the way you shut down when you’re scared? that you’d rather pretend you don’t care than admit to what you feeling?”

the tears that were welling in your eyes began to spill out. you swallowed hard, trying to blink them back.

his hands come back up to cup your cheeks. “i don’t care if this started out as fake. it ain’t fake to me. hasn’t been for a long time. i’ve been yours, baby. you just ain’t looking close enough to see it.”

you feel something collapse in your chest. walls, maybe. walls you’ve spent far too long trying to keep up.

you close your eyes for a moment, leaning into jons touch. “i see you too,” you whisper. “always seen you, i just didn’t think i was allowed to want you.”

he exhaled like he’d been holding that breath back for years. “you’re allowed, i swear to God baby, you’re allowed.”

you smile, fingers reaching for his suit jacket, curling into the lapels like you need something to anchor you. he didn’t hesitate, immediately wrapping his arms around you. you felt safe, warm — at home. he pulled you in like you belonged there. like you always had.

and when he finally kissed you — slow, deep, careful — it was everything you’ve wanted and been avoiding in one. everything he’s been waiting for.

when you finally pulled away, your hand rested on his jaw, thumb brushing his cheekbone.

“still think this is fake?” he asks, breathless with a smile.

you shake your head, grinning. “not even a little bit.”

and little did you know that a few years later, you’d finally have that wedding of your own, with jon standing at the end of the aisle. and it was everything you could’ve dreamed of.

note2 this might be the earliest i’ve ever posted LMFAO #improvement

[fayes-fics]

Too Good

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

Summary: Sequel to Too Much. Anthony and Benedict take on another challenge you set them.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest. Dom/sub dynamics - sub!Bridgertons, domme!reader, use of play names/titles (sweet prince, lovely boy, goddess). Mild restraint (leather cuffs), masturbation, smidge of foot worship, mention of cock rings, handjobs, unprotected vaginal sex, creampies.

Word Count: 5.9k

Author's Note: This is a long-awaited request fill for both Anon and @avidspicystoryreader - see the next posts for their asks. Thanks as always to the wonderful @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

You want to bathe in the sound both men make when you emerge into your living room, dressed in your favourite lingerie set. Swaying your hips, revelling in their undivided attention, elated as their pupils dilate rapidly, spying the subtle shifts in their hips, excitement stirring in their jeans as they wait upon your sectional sofa. It's a few weeks into your new playful dynamic, and tonight, they've agreed that you're in charge. 

“What are those?” Anthony queries as you get closer, dropping a pair of leather cuffs onto the coffee table, keeping hold of a second pair as you approach him first.

You step between his splayed knees, his eyes slowly travelling up your body until they reach your face. That's when you choose to answer.

“They are for your wrists, my sweet prince.”

An array of reactions ripple over his handsome face as you invoke your chosen play name for him. They have already agreed to any name you choose to bestow; tonight, Anthony will be your sweet prince, and Benedict shall be your lovely boy. 

“When did I agree to this?” Anthony’s brow creases in wary confusion as you tower over him, snapping the leather between your hands, a challenging eyebrow raised.

“Last night,” Benedict pipes up from the other end of the sofa, looking thoroughly entertained, “after about four whiskeys.”

“I didn’t…” he counters hesitantly, but it’s more of an uncertain query than a statement. 

“Yes, you did…” both you and Benedict answer in unison, your eyes darting to each other and a knowing smile exchanged.

Anthony swallows hard, his eyes fixed on the glint of the buckle on the leather cuffs. “Well, if I am doing this, he is going to have to too…” he gruffs, pointing to his younger brother.

“Oh, I agreed to it immediately, brother, and sober,” Benedict counters, shooting you a molten look before holding his wrists up obediently for you.

You saunter over to him instead, glancing pointedly at Anthony over your shoulder before taking Benedict’s wrists, binding them quickly in the cuffs using the buckle and crawling onto his lap. 

Making a show of it, you push his bound hands high above his head and dive in for a ferocious kiss, your tongue running possessively into his mouth, unashamedly rubbing yourself over his lap as he moans so prettily under you. 

“Lovely boy,” you purr as you break away, and there is a huff from nearby.

“I want to play…” Anthony pouts fractionally, jealous already.

You cut your eyes sideways at him, goading him by lightly running your tongue down Benedict's cheek, enjoying the hitch of sound he makes against your ear.

“Your brother here is the perfect little switch for me, but I wonder if you can be too? Because if you cannot, then I'm afraid, my sweet prince, you will just have to sit there. Just sit and watch as I fuck him utterly senseless...” you tease, knowing you are provoking him now, as Benedict murmurs a curse beneath you, already so very keen.

Anthony emits a light growl. “Yes, yes, I can do that…” he replies impatiently.

You smirk and drag yourself against the growing bulge in Benedict’s jeans as you address Anthony. “Call me your goddess,” you prompt.

“Yes, goddess,” Anthony mumbles, realising he is definitely the one missing out.

“Was that so difficult?” you chuckle, giving Benedict a peck on the lips before standing up, swiping the other set of cuffs and climbing into Anthony’s lap to give him the same treatment.

He is silent as he holds his wrists together for you to bind, just a slight puff of his breath tickling your hair. But when you push your knees wider and rock against his pelvis, pulling him into a kiss, he is pliant under you in a way that makes your stomach swoop with excitement, a softness in his eyes as they open when you end the kiss.

“Perfect, my sweet prince,” you compliment, a little bloom of colour dusk creeping across his cheeks. “Oh, we are going to have so much fun,” you add before hopping off his lap.

“A few rules for tonight, my darling boys…” you drawl, walking over to dim your lights so the room is more atmospheric. “You may only touch me or yourself when bidden; the cuffs should help with your obedience,” you chuckle before continuing. “I, however, can touch you both wherever and however I want unless you invoke your words. What are they?” You pause and look at them expectantly. You already know them; this is just reinforcement.

“Byron,” Benedict immediately pipes up, enthused.

“Bitcoin,” Anthony mutters quietly. 

“Good boys. Now, I decide everything tonight: when or if you come, when, where and even if you get my pussy. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my goddess,” they both reply in unison, a frisson over your skin at all the possibilities.

“If you disobey, I won't touch you again,” you warn, turning so you are facing away from them, running your hands over the globes of your bottom, teasing them. “And you definitely won't get any of this….”

You bend over, widening your stance, knowing the opening in your peekaboo lingerie set has parted, so they can see your bare slit, already damp and shining from playing with yourself while getting ready. There are two beautiful moans from behind as you straighten up again, a triumphant smirk as you whip around and order them both to stand up. They spring to their feet, athletic enough not to need their bound hands to do so. Your clit throbs at the prominent outline in both of their jeans. 

Goading Anthony yet again, you approach Benedict, one hand sliding into his hair, pulling his face down to meet yours in a fiery kiss as your other hand falls to his jeans. He makes a delightful sound into your mouth as you grab his cock through the denim. Then, as your tongues parry, slowly pull down the zipper tab. Surprised as your hand encounters steely smooth skin.

“You slutty boy,” you scold mildly as you pull back from his kiss, palming his naked erection.

“All for your convenience, my goddess,” he fawns, breathing slightly laboured.

You smile and turn to Anthony even as you keep teasing Benedict’s cock.

“This here, my sweet prince? This is a very good boy,” you provoke. “Unless you can convince me otherwise, he is getting me first…”

Anthony scowls, not used to being second at anything, rocking impatiently on his toes, his bound hands limp in front of him. 

Benedict whines as you release your grip, moving to push his jeans down. They pool around his ankles, and you nod approvingly when he steps out of them. You spider a hand up under his t-shirt, walking each fingertip over the light swell of each abdominal muscle, him staring down at your lips, his glistening, eagerly awaiting another kiss. Instead you demand his wrists that he presents to you so sweetly. You unhook the metal clasp between them.

“Arms up,” you murmur, so pleased when he instantly obeys. 

You have to push onto tiptoe to get his t-shirt up over his head, but he assists you, stripping the last of it and tossing it aside so he stands before you completely naked. He is all lithe ropey muscles and pale skin, his chest rising and falling a little rapidly, his cock standing proud. He brings his arms back down, and you re-hook the clasp on the cuffs as he shoots you that soulful look through his lashes.

“Such a lovely boy,” you whisper, grabbing him again for just one pump before ordering him to sit again.

He whimpers but obeys, bound wrists resting on his lap as you turn your attention to Anthony. You take two steps, so you are standing before him, envy seeping through his pores. You lean in to run your tongue in a teasing stripe over his cheek, loving the slight drag of stubble as you do. 

“You are so handsome when you’re jealous,” you needle, unable to resist poking this bear, something about his struggle to fully submit makes it even more delicious. “Don't even try to deny it,” you add quickly when Anthony goes to open his mouth, and he snaps his jaw shut, mollified. “Let's see what treat you have in store for me….” you dusk as your hand drops to his groin.

You don't kiss him as you pull down his zipper, just gently teeth his earlobe. His bound hands flex against your belly, struggling not to touch your naked skin as he is forbidden to do.

“Nothing is sexier than a beautiful, powerful man at my mercy,” you murmur as your hand slides between his fly, encountering his boxer briefs, the hot swell of his cock straining against them. “And, my sweet prince, they don't come much more powerful or beautiful than you…”

He seems to bloom at your compliment, a stuttering exhale into your hair as he meekly requests a kiss. You allow it, pulling him in for a fiery kiss as you assist him in pushing down his jeans. He groans loudly into your mouth as you slide your fingers into his underwear and grab his cock, pumping him slowly as you pull apart.

“You are the beautiful one, my goddess,” he stutters with blown pupils as you squeeze him gently.

“Oh, now you are getting it,” you smile triumphantly, releasing him to shove his underwear down his muscular, fuzzy thighs, then unhooking his wrists to strip him of his shirt until he is naked too.

You pull him in for another biting kiss, your fingertips running up his chest into the thatch of dark hair there, scratching lightly on his pectorals as he whimpers over your tongue.

“Take a seat, my sweet prince,” you counsel, as you break apart, nodding for him to resume his place.

Reluctantly, Anthony does as bidden, shooting you a puppy dog look, his cock bobbing as he takes a seat.

“Now, my darling boys, don't forget you cannot touch yourselves…” you remind, looking at each of them in turn.

They nod as you take a seat on the coffee table between them. Their attention is undivided as you slowly open your legs out wide, your knees almost touching each of theirs, knowing they cannot resist the sight. Your underwear’s slit reveals just enough to have them licking their lips, something so illicit about the peek rather than being able to see everything. You make a show of swirling your fingertips over your inner thighs, their heavy gaze tracking every motion as you inch closer.

They both make a hungry noise as your fingers swirl over your pussy lips and you throw your head back and moan, a little theatricality never hurts. You arch your spine, your other hand sliding over the glass table behind you to brace yourself as you play with yourself. Even with your eyes closed, head tilted back to show the lines of your body, you can sense their salivation, how they both lean in. When your pointer finger slides over your clit you groan loudly and tilt your head back down to see an erotic sight. Both sets of eyes boring into you, barely contained lust as they both fight the urge not to touch themselves.

“You truly are a goddess,” Benedict opines huskily, likely a tactic to curry favour, but one you don’t mind in the slightest.

“And don't you forget it,” you shoot back before plunging a middle finger into your pussy and sliding backwards to lay on the coffee table, hooking your feet up onto the corners of the table, legs splayed wide. You bring your other hand to rub your clit as you ride your fingers, inserting a second now, pumping slowly.

You don’t need to see them to know what sweet torture this is for them, the scent of your arousal no doubt swirling thick in the air as they watch, powerless to do anything about their hard, leaking cocks unless you bid it so. The slick sound filling the air as you ride your fingers, coating your hand with your arousal, the only other sound their panted breaths.

“May I touch your foot, goddess?” Anthony implores, a new deference to his tone that has you tilting your head up.

He is leaning forward, his bound hands hovering above his knee, not far from your toes curled over the glass edge of the coffee table.

“You may,” you concede. “Only my foot for now,” you add sternly.

Warm hands cup your foot, massaging your skin insistently in a way that has you emitting a light stutter of pleasure, somehow easing the ache from a day on your feet with just a few well-placed fingers. Murmuring encouragements as he draws your foot into his lap, massaging in a way that has you languid, your fingers slowing.

“May I do the same, goddess?” Benedict’s bashful question has your head swinging to him.

“Yes my lovely boy,” you allow, revelling in the look of excitement as he too grabs your other foot. He cups your heel in his bound hands and lowers his head to kiss the tendons atop before flexing your ankle to place a gentle kiss onto your arch that is almost ticklish. No one has kissed your feet before but it is oddly fitting for a night where they are in your command.

Also, something about their tender treatment as you slowly fuck yourself with your own fingers is such an exquisite contrast. Anthony groans his approval as you slide a third finger into your pussy. Not as good as their cocks, obviously, but the perfect hors-d'œuvre. You emit a louder moan as Benedict opens his mouth wider, lathing his tongue then gently biting the underside of your foot, his eyes glued between your legs.

Anthony's hands stray up onto your calf, and you snatch your leg away, placing it upon the round of his shoulder as Benedict chuckles and kisses the tip of your other big toe.

“Nuh uh,” you cluck, stilling your hands and pushing Anthony with your heel.

“Please….” He sounds wrecked as he falls backwards and you glance down to see his rigid cock weeping slightly in his lap.

You decide to take pity upon him a little, shooting Benedict a look that has him releasing your foot obediently. They both pout as you withdraw your fingers from within yourself and sit up.

“Move closer,” you gesture with your hands for them to shuffle closer. 

When they settle a couple of feet apart, you stand up, both of their heads tilting to gaze up as you tower over them - a bloom of joy that they do so without you even having to ask. 

You bring your wet fingers up to both of their handsome faces and trail your juices over their lips. Both of their tongues dart out immediately to lick the essence, groaning deeply, wrapping their lips around your tips and sucking covetously, as if a life-giving nectar you are bestowing upon them. 

For a few beats, you bask in the wet pull of their mouths, suctioning you clean, drawing your fingers deeper into their heat, both of their tongues lapping enthusiastically. You reluctantly withdraw from their mouths, quickly reaching behind to unhook your bra, tossing it aside and painting their saliva over your nipples as they groan gently at the sight.

“My beautiful boys….” you exhale, tweaking your nipples as you stare down at them, bound and rapt by the sight of you.

“Please let us touch you some more…” Benedict appeals besottedly, his hazy eyes blown wide, his lips dark pink from sucking your fingers.

“We will do anything…” Anthony chimes in breathily, his face slack with complete submission, a spike of want racing down your spine that he is now pliant.

Spinning around, you turn your back to them, their breaths huffing onto the dip of your waist before lowering yourself slowly to sit between them. Intentionally slowly, you hook your legs over each of their thighs, hard muscle under your skin as you turn your head first to Anthony and pull him into a deep kiss as your hand slides down Benedict’s torso to grasp his cock and he practically howls.

You pump Benedict gently as your tongue parries with Anthony’s, both of their cuffed hands limp in their laps.

You swap, swinging your head to draw Benedict into your mouth, abandoning his cock, that hand instead curling around his jaw as your other slides down to grasp Anthony and pump him too.

“I could tease you boys all night…” You lilt over Benedict's cupid's bow as you pull back, him chasing your lips as you do so.

“Have mercy…” Anthony gasps as you squeeze his cock near the base, loving its heat and girth trapped within your palm, the trickle that coats your knuckles as your fist raises to encase his tip.

“Maybe…” you tease, curling your foot around his calf where you have your leg draped over his thigh, “if you ask nicely….” you add, drawing his brother into another kiss, just to test Anthony’s resolve a little more. 

“Please, goddess,” he appeals deferentially, but with a thread of desperation that has you break from Benedict’s lips.

Releasing Anthony’s cock, you undrape your thighs from over theirs and grab the clasp on their leather cuffs. You guide their hands to your hips, hooking their fingers into the side of your lace underwear and nodding for them to pull it down.

Goosebumps break out over your body as they slowly tug down the material over the flare of your hips, their fingertips sliding over your skin intentionally slow—a little payback for the tease you have made them endure. Anthony lightly scrapes his blunt nails down your outer thigh, but you let him, as it just adds to your arousal. 

Completely naked now, you use your foot to fling the underwear across the room, which they huff, amused, both falling back into the cushions, bracketing you with their muscular torsos, looking at you expectantly. Their stares are hungry, barely contained lust now that you are as naked as them.

“You may kiss my neck…” 

You can barely get the offer out before two sets of lips suction onto the tender spot under your earlobes, a lushness that has you gasping and grabbing their muscular thighs, your eyes fluttering closed.

Their dual groan is like music to your ears, their tongues more insistent, sliding lower to your collarbone, which you don't fight, too drunk on both of their mouths upon you, a heavy tug low in your pelvis.

“May we….” Benedict begins, and you just nod sharply, biting your lip as you wrap your arms around the back of their necks, pushing up, your hips lifting off the cushion, encouraging them to slide lower.

Your moan echoes around your high warehouse ceiling as they capture both of your breasts in their mouths, tugging gently with a slight bite of their teeth, their need telegraphed by their tongues lapping hard, teasing your nipples into stiff peaks. Your hands spider upwards and grab both cocks at once making them stutter, their mouths going slack on your chest.

“I should have made you both wear cock rings,” you attest, beguiled by the sudden mental flash of them struggling in cuffs and rings, leaking, thighs trembling.

“Happily my goddess,” Benedict breathes, moving to claim a kiss without permission.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” you admonish over his lips, and he freezes. 

“Please forgive me…” he stumbles, hanging his head even as you keep palming his cock.

“I will this time,” you offer conciliatorily, nuzzling his face until he tilts his chin upwards, his contrite expression filling your field of vision. “But, my lovely boy, I will need you to pay penance.”

“What do you need, my goddess?” he blinks, his lashes batting so alluringly, biting his lip as you squeeze his cock in your fist.

“You may touch yourself,” you allow, guiding his cuffed wrists to replace yours.

“How is that penance?” he asks, his brow knitting adorably as you remove your hand, guiding his into its stead.

“You will have to watch quietly as I fuck your brother...” 

Benedict’s face is a kaleidoscope; you can see the envy, the desire, the defeat and the acceptance. Anthony making a victorious noise next to you, his cock pulsing in your other hand that now goes slack. 

“...first,” you add belatedly, seeing Benedict light up again, settling back into the sectional corner with a coy nod of acceptance.

You twist around and swing over into Anthony's lap, pulling him into a kiss that is instantly intense, excitement rippling in his muscular form under you.

“There are rules, though, my sweet prince,” you sigh over his lips, guiding his hands behind his head.

“You may not move your hands from there,” you warn as he cups the back of his own skull.

He pouts fractionally but that morphs into a picture of euphoria as you shuffle forwards in his lap, running your glistening slit over his tip.

“Can you feel that?” you murmur, his nod so enthused that a lock of hair flops over onto his forehead.

You reach and twirl the strand between your fingers as you keep teasing him with your damp heat, rocking your engorged clit against his frenulum. 

“Beg for it,” you command gently, hooking your other thumb tip into the corner of his mouth.

“Please, my goddess, take me. Please do not tease me anymore.”

Anthony sounds so pretty as he fights the instinct to take over, to throw you down onto the sofa and take you roughly as he does so well when he is the one in charge.

“I have the right to tease you all night, sweet prince,” you caution. “I could just edge you for hours until you are a trembling wreck.”

“Yes…” he concedes. “But please do not…” His brown eyes shine as he beseeches in such a demure way that it makes you suddenly desperate for him.

A melodic noise escapes his lips as you tilt your pelvis and sink a fraction onto his steely cock. This is the first time you have gone without a condom with him since you started this dynamic, and the sensation is almost overwhelming. This was agreed in advance of your play tonight, but still, the reality of it is so intense. Your eyes meet as you sink slowly, the leather cuffs creaking as his hands flex behind his head. You pull him in for another kiss as you are fully seated, held open in that way that makes your eyes want to roll - no one else you’ve been with seems able to do this quite as well as these Bridgerton brothers do.

“My goddess…” he whispers back, face devoted.

“I will never tire of you calling me that,” you sigh, almost rhetorical, turning sideways to look at Benedict. “Both of you,” you add for his benefit as he smiles crooked but modestly, his bound hands wrapped loosely around his cock.

Maintaining eye contact with Benedict as you rise up and back down on Anthony, who moans so prettily under you. Having the rapt attention of one as you fuck the other is something else you could never tire of.

“My beautiful boys,” you exhale indulgently, bringing your attention back to the Viscount, looping your hands through the crook in Anthony’s arms to grab the top of his shoulders.

Arching your back slightly, you begin to ride upon him. You pull up and sink onto his mass, biting your lip about and closing your eyes how good it already feels. His gaze falls to your breasts, his warm breath panting across your sternum. You know he is fighting the urge to tilt forward, capture them in his mouth as you rise. But he is aware he cannot do so without your permission; the twitch in his thighs between yours as you set a pace. Tilting your chin down, you soothingly request he look at you, and sweetly he does. Raising those ardent brown eyes to yours, so much conveyed without words.

“My sweet prince, you are doing so well for me,” you whisper, squeezing your pussy tight around him. 

He groans loudly, the leather of his cuffs rasping again, a flex in his bicep that betrays their latent power.

“You feel divine…” he utters, thick and low.

“As I should, for I am your goddess,” you return with a hint of sass, raising an eyebrow as you begin a faster pace, moving your grip to the back of his head, placing your hands over his bound wrists as if to emphasise your point.

He is passive as you ride harder, a slight burn in your thighs as he whimpers under you, gaze roaming your body as you undulate upon him, a heat notching up your spine as your pussy swells from that repeated delightful friction, a slight burn in your thighs as you just cant stop riding him, chasing bliss.

“I won't last,” Anthony gasps in warning, rueful almost.

“That’s okay my sweet prince, come for me,” you goad, riding harder, glancing over to Benedict as if reminding him he is next.

“I need you to come too,” Anthony pants, eyes wild, hands flexing in his cuffs as if he cannot bear the idea of you not getting your pleasure too.

“I will,” you assure, winking then releasing your right hand from its grip around his wrists to fall between your splayed thighs, not stopping your rhythm as you fingers slide over your swollen clit.

His stare tracks your hand then he curses, head flopping back, thighs clenching, bearing his teeth as his face contorts, so close to release.

“Give it to me, sweet prince,” you pant into his ear, your fingers a rapid tattoo against your swollen pearl.

That is what breaks him. His whole body goes stiff and there is a gargled noise in the back of his throat then a pulse that runs up his length inside you just as you crest a similar wave. It is what pulls you over too, calling out as you shatter around him, pussy fluttering around his spurting cock, milking him of his cum, dripping down your walls as you slump onto him, wracked breaths, your mind floating blissfully above.

“Please untie me,” he begs quietly as you both return to the room. 

You reach behind him and unhook his arms, unfastening the cuffs as he slips from inside you. You rub his pinkened wrists gently, even as you glance over to Benedict, intuiting his impatience for his turn. 

“Help me to your brother,” you entreat Anthony.

Tenderly, he assists you to your feet, your legs wobbly from exertion, uncertain whether you will be able to do the same again, despite a burning desire to. You cling to him as you take the few paces to Benedict, who raises his bound hands from his cock as you climb into his lap and snuggle into him, still in the afterglow of your orgasm.

“Surely a goddess deserves some rest,” he murmurs in your ear, able to read your tiredness. “If it is acceptable, perhaps you can lie down and be worshipped in the way you deserve….”

His lilting, velvet words have you nodding enthused, a ripple of excitement at the idea that you will receive pleasure. Benedict gives a nod to his elder brother, who is now pulling on his underwear, his hands being free. Without a seeming word exchanged, Anthony assists, rearranging your body so that your hips are at the edge of the sectional chaise. Then he places a cushion in his lap and lays your head upon it, his hand soothingly massaging your scalp. 

You stare down the plane of your body, watching Benedict slowly kneels between splayed legs, impressed with his balance, seeing as his wrists are still bound. You keen softly as he rubs his cock over your swollen pearl, the cuffs creaking as he does so.

“Do not tease your goddess,” you chide but it has zero heat, for he chuckles and demurely looks at you through his lashes.

“You wish is my command…” he rumbles, a touch cheekily, before he lines himself up and ploughs deep into your swollen pussy, in a way that has your toes curling. It’s the first time you have felt his unsheathed cock too, and it also steals your breath, so much heated mass pressing into your walls.

“Yesssss, that’s it, my lovely boy,” you commend, reaching for his bound hands pressing low on your belly.

You lace your fingers with his and nod for him to move, Anthony leaning down to capture your lips as Benedict withdraws and snaps back into you. Your cry is muffled around Anthony’s questing tongue.

“You will make him jealous if you get so many more kisses tonight, my sweet prince,” you warn quietly over his lips.

Anthony’s smile is handsomely devilish. “Then he should have gone first,” he sasses, then schools his face. “My goddess…” he belatedly adds.

“You always do fight being a good sub for me,” you snark over a moan as Benedict begins to set a pace. “I think your brother is so much better at it than you. In fact, maybe he gets a privilege you didn’t….”

You just love to provoke the proverbial beast in Anthony, especially on nights where he must do your bidding. 

“Be still, my lovely,” you decree and instantly Benedict freezes, holding still buried to the hilt within you. “Good boy,” you flatter, reaching for his wrists and unclipping the hook between them.

“You may touch me anywhere you wish,” you offer, throwing a side-eye to Anthony.

“Thank you my goddess,” Benedict inhales sharply, blooming beautifully at the privilege you have bestowed.

Given the greenlight, his fingertips instantly sweep up over your ribs to your nipples, teasing them expertly as he begins to move again. Your feet curling up off the floor to nudge his shapely bum, encouraging the snap of his hips driving into your, your whole body rolling with his athletic thrusts.  

“Kiss me, lovely boy,” you call out, watching Anthony’s face above you cloud with envy as his younger brother’s face hovers into view, his lips meeting your and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

“Thank you for letting me touch you, my goddess,” he lauds, nuzzling your cheek, smiling with boyish enthusiasm. 

“Of course, my lovely boy, now earn your privilege,” you challenge, your fingers dancing down the lithe musculature of his back, running your lips over to his ear, “make me come again.”

And, good boy that he is, he does as commanded. As you lay back and enjoy the sensations coursing through you, he grabs your hips, pulling you down onto his driving cock, you moaning with each thrust as he pushes you open, his cock feeling huge inside your swollen soaked channel.

Your eyes drift to Anthony’s again over Benedict’s shoulder, “May I have your hand, my goddess?” 

As soon as you nod, Anthony grabs your hand, the one you had made yourself come with when fucking him, and brings it to his lips. He sucks the fingers clean, his stare boring into you, a fiery challenge glinting despite him obeying your rules.

To have both of their undivided attention rockets you so fast. Anthony’s strong tongue swiping and suckling your fingers deep into his hot mouth, Benedict’s hands clamped around your waist, the leather of his cuffs tickling your skin, his sizeable cock boring into you with remarkable, athletic alacrity.

“I’m close…” you rasp, that telltale quiver deep in your belly, not needing much to take you over the edge for a second time.

“Wait for me goddess, please,” Benedict petitions, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow above you.

“You fuck me so well, my lovely boy,” you praise, knowing word of affirmation are such a catalyst for him, running your free hand over his cheek, caressing his jaw, then pinching his chin in a tighter hold. “Now give me your all, don’t hold back, I need to feel it.”

Benedict’s nostrils flare and he nods decisively, always eager to follow ample instruction. His thrusts become almost punishing, his slender hip bones snagging your inner thighs as he notches you higher, each time crushing into your engorged clit, grunting with the exertion now. You pull him down onto you, loving the feel of his heated flushed skin over yours, whisper praises into his ear. All as you stare Anthony down, your fingers still in his mouth, him gently scraping his teeth over your knuckles, knowing a slight roughness will help you over the edge.

As your fingers fall from his mouth, Anthony’s hand reaches down and pinches the nipple closest to him. It has you yelling out, your body arching off the sofa at that rough spike of sensation, propelled into Benedict’s torso just as you start to clench around his cock, coming for a second time. That wondrous sensation fanning out from inside to inflame your whole being, dimly aware his thrusts become erratic and then he stills, speared deep as he too reached his peak. You feel the warmth of him spread inside as you float back down into your body.

“Thank you my sweet boys,” you slur, as Benedict withdraws and Anthony bends down to kiss your forehead, this second orgasm making you drowsy.

“You are welcome, goddess,” they both seem to chime in unison.

A few moments later and you have removed Benedicts leather cuffs and the three of you share a lazy intimacy, your head still in Anthony’s lap as Benedict curls around you on the wide chaise, resting his cheek on your belly.

“You, particularly, did so well,” you smile up at Anthony as your fingers card through Benedict’s hair.

“I don’t mind being your sweet prince… on occasion,” he confesses. “Just as long as you will be my baby girl just as often.”

“Of course, sir,” you wink up at him, that infectious, breathtakingly handsome smile inhabiting his stubbled face.

Benedict chuckles from his perch on your tummy, twisting to kiss the dewy skin above your belly button.  “Are you sure both of us aren't too much, kitten?” he goads, even though he already knows the answer.

“I did a good job of making you both do my bidding tonight, didn't I?” you point out, and he concedes that you did indeed with just a humourous shrug. “And besides, something too good could never be too much,” you wink to him.

Something about the moment feels decisive, so you decide to declare yourself.

“We are only just getting started with this adventure, boys” you state boldly. “Well, that is, as long as Eloise is away…” You modify, knowing this sort of thing is only possible when your flatmate, and indeed their little sister, is away, as she is now.

“I’m going to buy her a bloody flat,” Anthony growls decisively, his hand scooping behind your head and hauling you up to meet his lips. “This place is yours alone now, baby girl…”

Well, you're not going to argue with that.

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