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fayes-fics · 8 days

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The Secrets We Keep: Pt II

<< Part I

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Knowing someone your whole life doesn’t mean they can’t surprise you… (part II, see above for link to part I)

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m to f), cunnilingus, hand job, vaginal sex, woman on top, orgasm. Also a lot of fluff and a few dashes of angst.

Word Count: 8.5k (13.6k for complete fic, including Pt I)

Authors Note: Part 2 of 2. Part 1 linked above. My longest gestating WIP! It’s been more than 18 months since I received a request for this secret diary fic. Tulip Anon, I have no idea if you still follow me, but I hope you think I did your detailed request justice. Here is the conclusion to this Benepic! Betaed by the awesome @colettebronte, who I can’t thank enough. Enjoy! 🫶

-vii-

The first thing you feel is throbbing pain, an insistent drum in your head, mouth dry as if you have been chewing cotton wool—the instant regret of excessive drinking floods through you. However, when your eyes reluctantly peel open, your predicament escalates.

You have no earthly idea where you are. Or how you got here. The last thing you remember was Benedict kissing you; then the room was literally spinning from entirely too much brandy.

Still in the dress you wore yesterday, but tucked under crisp white linens. A trace of a familiar scent upon the pillow that you cannot quite place in your fuzzy state. Gingerly sitting up, you try to get your bearings, not yet awake enough to have any reaction beyond puzzlement.

The room is darkened, thankfully, save for a sliver of the rising sun that slashes across the bed through a narrow gap in the curtains. You are in a large mahogany four-poster bed; the room is decorated in rich jewel tones—heavy velvet burgundy drapes and dark blue Persian rugs, panelled walls on which stunning artwork hangs. Embers glow in a nearby fireplace as you spy your pelisse hanging on the back of a door and your shoes neatly arranged nearby.

Then you twist and see the bedside cabinet, and your stomach plunges.

There, alongside a glass of water, is your notebook. Your secret notebook. The one that should still be concealed within the hidden pocket of your pelisse. But instead, it is here. And what is worse, it is open. Open to a page with one of your favourite sketches of Benedict: his eyes crinkling against the strong rays of the sun, a carefree smile on his face.

Instantly, you grab it and slam it shut. Fingernails drumming urgently on its silken cover, now hugged into your chest. Horrified that your mystery generous benefactor, who must have seen you to bed, has also been privy to your most private thoughts.

Galvanised by a need to solve the mystery of who, you relinquish your tight hold on the tome. It is then that a folded letter slips out of its pages and drops into your lap. Tentatively, you unfurl the paper and are aghast by the headed notepaper declaring the author and revealing your host. The worst possible person you could think of.

But then your gaze falls to the elegant script inked onto its thick parchment, and your life is indelibly altered.

Dearest Y/n

I hope you are well-rested. There are so many things I am impatient to impart, but I must begin with an explanation and, indeed, an apology.

You are in my bedroom, at my lodgings. I brought you here as I saw no other option that would guarantee your safety and welfare, which is always my utmost concern. I made pains to ensure your arrival here was not seen, and I must assure you, in case your recall is uncertain, that nothing has happened between us beyond our kiss.

Now onto my apology, which is two-fold, although I suspect it should contain multitudes more. Firstly, my most sincere and unreserved apologies for my ungentlemanly conduct at our last two encounters. As wondrous as those kisses were, they were nonetheless inexcusable. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my impulsive actions.

Secondly, I must apologise for my discovery of this, your private diary. My knowledge of its existence is purely accidental; I removed it from your coat merely as a wish for your possessions to be in neat order upon your awakening. My knowledge of its contents, however… for that, I must throw myself at your mercy and beg for your forgiveness. Curiosity and liquor are not the best companions, and it seems both got the better of me.

In what I hope is partial recompense, I will confess a secret of mine. Arguably selfish in nature and most likely the worst possible timing, too. However, given what I have now seen, I am utterly compelled to convey it….

I love you, y/n.

Most ardently and most truly.

There is no person in the world I would rather spend time with. Whose thoughts I am always impatient to know and whose every moment I wish to be a part of. For some time now, you have occupied my every thought.

It is why I felt compelled to act when I heard from Eloise about your impossible situation. I will do anything within my power to assist you. It is why I said that I want to alleviate your burdens. I meant every word and more. My happiness is seemingly inextricably calibrated to yours—when I see you happy, it brings me great joy, and when I see you are not, it brings a pang to my chest I know not what do with.

I would have taken these feelings to my grave… were it not for this diary. When what I found hidden within ts pages gave me the exquisite burden of hope. Hope that perhaps you return my affections? May indeed have done so for quite some time as well?

I must also take a moment to compliment your poetic talent, and that is to say nothing of your artistic abilities, which quite frankly are humbling. Dare I dream of a day that we could paint together? Sorry (Again! Multitudes indeed!), I am likely getting far ahead of myself.

I will not be home when you read this. Partial cowardice on my part, no doubt, but born out of utmost respect. You always deserve the right to choose, y/n, and that includes what you do with this confession. I do not wish for you to be obligated to see me or let me know your response, thoroughly eager though I am to hear of it.

If you wish to speak to me before your wedding ceremony, please leave your hair ribbon tied to my phaeton upon your departure. I will find a way to see you. If you do not, I shall, of course, respect your decision.

A vila mon coeur, gardi li mo: You will always have my heart; I hope you also choose to be its haven.

Benedict

You could read this confession a thousand times over and still scarcely believe it; the depth of his feelings declared plainly, boldly, and so lyrically in writing. You pour over it once more, giddily aglow, your fingers tracing across his elegant, looped script, your lips moving as you mouth his words, needing to have them within you somehow. Then, you lovingly refold and place the letter between the last two blank pages of your notebook—a more fitting denouement to its contents you could not imagine.

You put on your shoes and pelisse, still floating on a cloud. A valet meets you in the hallway and, with a wordless nod of acknowledgement, leads you out of the rear mews entrance, handing you a large silk scarf to conceal yourself under. With one final glance up at Benedict’s abode, you unfurl the ribbon from your hair and, insides aflutter, tie it in a neat bow onto his phaeton before wrapping the scarf around your head and stealing out onto the streets of Mayfair.

-viii-

Still in a daze about Benedict’s confession, you slip into the servant's entrance of your family home, tiptoeing through the dormant kitchen and tugging off the scarf. Just as you believe yourself home-free, Mrs White, head cook and ersatz maternal figure, materialises from the pantry, nearly dropping a bag of flour in surprise.

“Lawks alive, sweet child, you gave me a fright!” she exclaims, clutching her chest. “Pray tell, why are you sneaking into my kitchen at the crack of dawn?”

You cringe and turn sheepishly to meet her gaze. “Sorry for the scare, Mrs White. I, um, indulged rather too heavily last night. I was in no fit state to return home. I stayed with a trusted friend.” The truth, albeit behind a veil of obfuscation. “Please do not tell Father!” you add hurriedly.

As she plunks down the flour and smacks her fingers together to rid them of its nascent dust, she chuckles. “I shall not divulge if you do not… for I was already under your father’s employ when I did the same many years ago, the night before I made my Harry an honest man.”

“Deal!” you giggle, clutching your notebook tight to your chest, unable to quash the ebullience fizzing in your being.

“You look as if you caught a rainbow and sold it to the sky,” she declares, crossing her arms and observing you closely. “Wedding day excitement, yes?!” she adds pointedly with a raised eyebrow, even as her tone very much suggests she suspects otherwise.

“Of course, Mrs White…” you concur, attempting to conceal the quirk of your lip.

She rolls her eyes and shoos you affectionately towards the hallway. “Away with you! I suspect the less I truly know, the better…”

You say nothing; just give her a nod and race up the servant's stairs, keen to make it to your bedroom unseen.

As soon as you are safely there, you toe off your shoes and only then relinquish your vice-like grip upon your notebook to hurriedly change into your nightgown as if you had been asleep in the house all night. Enacting a plan you conceived on the brisk walk home, you grab a night bag from your ottoman. Flinging open your wardrobe, patently ignoring the wedding dress hung upon its door, you bundle the notebook with a couple of your favourite outfits and stuff them into the bag. Buckling it shut while you scoot across the room, you open the sash window and - with a quick check of the garden below - drop the bag into the large rhododendron beneath, hopeful the dense, fragrant blooms will conceal its presence for now.

Just as you are closing the window, a gaggle of ladies descend upon your room, led by your fussing mother, your ladies' maid Rachel among them. Realising she has had to lie to keep your cover since yesterday at the modiste, you silently shoot her a brief look of reassurance.

“Rise and shine, darling!” your mother chimes. “‘Tis your most special day!”

And then everything is a blur as the preparation for your wedding starts in earnest, you still slightly detached from it all, your thoughts purely of Benedict. It is only sometime later that you get a few moments of peace with just Rachel as she puts the finishing touches to your look.

“You seem changed, my lady…” Rachel opines sotto voce, sliding a pin into your hair.

You say nothing, even as your eyes meet in the vanity table mirror, unwilling to confess details of what has transpired just yet. Unsure yourself even what it could mean until you get the chance to see Benedict yourself, your stomach in knots to do so.

“I told your family you took dinner alone last night in your room after returning from the modiste, and then you went to sleep…” she whispers, leaning in even though you are alone.

“Thank you. I am truly grateful,” you offer sincerely before adding: “I will tell you more when I am able. I do beg one more favour of you…?”

She makes eye contact again in your reflection, giving a brief tentative nod after a pause.

“If you should hear from a Bridgerton valet, please follow any directions he provides,” you implore, the image of your hair ribbon fluttering gently in the breeze emblazoned in your mind.

“A valet? Not a ladies’ maid?” she checks softly, frowning.

“Yes, just please… do as he asks?”

“Yes, my lady,” she demures before reaching for your jewellery.

It is only as the carriage you and your mother ride in shudders over the cobblestones towards St George’s church an hour or so later that reality comes crashing in.

So engrossed in thoughts of seeing Benedict all morning, you had almost forgotten the dreadful fate that likely awaits you. A sudden spike of fear that he will not turn up, that something will prevent him from seeing you, or, heaven forfend, today’s stiff breeze has blown your hair ribbon asunder.

All at once, your head is spinning, your dress feels too tight, and there is a plunging dread in the pit of your stomach, your skin prickling hard before your vision seems to swim with dots before narrowing to blackness…

“Y/n!? Whatever is the matter?!” your mother’s alarmed voice rings out as you woozily return.

You are slumped sideways against the glass window, its cool surface a balm on your suddenly fevered temple.

“Is it what I told you about your wedding night…?!” she frets, her laced glove tickling your forehead as she appears to be checking your temperature. “I can assure you, you will get used to it…”

You bat her away and slowly sit upright, taking a calming breath while also trying to blot out the memory of her talk about marital relations right before you left the house. Not able to confess it as unnecessary without raising suspicion, you had to endure a stumbling, unhelpful explanation of things you already know. Indeed, you have witnessed at Granville’s parties, even if you have not taken part yourself.

But then the sudden thought of being required to do such with Lord Farringdon has you grasping the curtain, your empty stomach heaving at the mere prospect. The silent hope that Benedict can assist you at the eleventh hour is the only thing that stops you from passing out anew.

With a shaky gait and a queasy, oily feeling, you alight a few moments later, your mother lending an arm of support as your father and brothers pile out of the other carriage. This is to be the entirety of your wedding guest list. You have pulled into a side courtyard of the church, concealed behind high walls, away from the inquisitive sights of the Ton. The rushed nature of the union and Whistledown’s latest means your family has no wish for this to be a public event, keen to be rid of scandal. Only your immediate family, your husband-to-be and the vicar - a friend of your father’s - know of today’s ceremony. Well, and Benedict. You did not even get the chance to inform Eloise of this expedited schedule.

As he leads you up the stairs and into the side vestibule, your father informs you that Lord Farringdon is already awaiting you at that altar and that he will appreciate a swift ceremony. You swallow thickly and nod mutely, sensing the window of opportunity creaking closed with alarming alacrity, each incessant tick of the church clock seeming like both forever and not enough time, scrabbling for any chance to stall.

Just as you are about to lose all sense of hope, you see movement over your father's shoulder that has your heart leaping into your throat. There, through a mullioned window, you see the distorted outline of a phaeton swiftly pulling up on the other side of the church from where you entered, a palpable wave of relief and excitement washing over you.

Benedict has come!

-ix-

“Father, may I please have a moment alone?” you rush out breathlessly, pulse-pounding hard in your ears. Hoping he will interpret your request as mere nervousness about the imminent ceremony, you add: “Before I must take this big step and become a wife?”

He reluctantly grants your wishes, brusquely telling you it should be brief before following the rest of your family through the doors into the nave.

As soon as the coast is clear, you are darting out the entrance again and running around the outside of the church, wedding dress swishing around your legs, until you skid to a halt next to a pillar that conceals you from the street.

There, before you, arrestingly beautiful and jumping athletically down to the pavement, is Benedict—a vision in a blue velvet jacket and teal cravat.

Your eyes meet, and your knees want to buckle; such is the magnitude of the moment. He bounds up the granite steps and crushes his lips to yours briefly.

“No time to talk,” he rushes out. “If you wish to escape, take my hand, for we must depart now!”

Your heart hammers as you do the only thing you could ever want to: grab tightly onto his proffered hand as his face breaks out into the most arresting smile. Then it's a blur as he whisks you down the steps to his phaeton, hoisting you up onto its leather bench and throwing a blanket into your lap, then clambering in himself. With a shake of the reins, you lurch and take off down an alleyway at a rapid pace. The velocity of motion, red bricks of buildings whizzing by mere feet away, has you momentarily stunned and so you almost jump out of your skin when he speaks loudly over the rushing noise.

“Cover yourself before we get to the street,” Benedict advises quick-fire, only taking his attention off the road briefly to nod to the blanket. Just as you are struggling to conceal yourself, the horses careen onto Park Lane, attracting attention for the speed you are already travelling.

“Benedict!” you chastise, your arm shooting out to grab the side of the partial umbrella-like hood that arches over you, having to cling on for dear life. “This is not exactly a stealthy escape!”

“I know,” he grimaces, not looking at you, “but we must make haste and be as far away as we can as soon as possible.”

“Regardless of destination, we will need to stop at my house!” you almost have to yell to be heard over the jostling wheels on either side of you.

“Why??” His whole face screwed up in disbelief.

“I must gather some things! I will not leave without them, Benedict!!” you warn.

“What could possibly be worth stopping for?” he decries, the whole vehicle swaying violently as he rounds another bend.

“Perchance, other clothing?!” you wither loudly, frowning that he had not considered such, before adding: “And your letter!?”

His head whips around to look at you and there is an intensity in his gaze that has your heart stuttering. An all-consuming want to kiss his lips as his gaze falls to your mouth. Only the urgent yelp of a pedestrian you narrowly avoid colliding into rips your attention away from each other.

He rights the phaeton, tugging the reins so the horses slow.

“Alright,” he concedes, quieter, calmer. “But please do be as quick as you are able…”

You don't get the chance to inform him you have already packed and stowed a bag because he is pulling up in the quiet mews behind your family home. You jump down and take off, sprinting through the small gate and across the lawn. Soon, you are diving into the large bushes on the side of the house beneath your bedroom window. Fumbling around, you have to wrestle your dress from a branch before you reach the wall. Emitting a muted noise of victory as you are finally able to grab your bag and out of the foliage without looking.

“Miss y/l/n!?”

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Mrs White standing at a nearby door, wielding a rolling pin.

“Mrs White, please,” you beseech, “please, do not tell anyone!”

She takes stock of you: your animated state, your wedding dress torn over your knee where it snagged upon that branch, a night bag grasped in your ringless left hand… and she appears to make a calculated decision.

“I fear I could not, my child,” she offers with a shrug, “I do not see anyone for me to tell of…”

The small, sympathetic nod and smile toying her lips has you barreling towards her, throwing your free arm tight around her as flour dust puffs onto the silk of your dress. You utter your thanks, flooded with gratitude, hugging her close before disentangling, you take off sprinting before she can say anymore.

-x-

As you depart from your family home, a companionable silence settles between you—a tacit understanding that there is much to discuss, but the journey is not the ideal place to do so. Both resolute to put some miles between yourselves and your family, likely now emerging from the church and wondering where on earth you are. A flare of guilt in your belly for not informing Rachel or even your mother. You resolve to send word tomorrow that you are safe without providing details.

As the edges of London give way to the countryside, you do decide to ask one simple question.

“Where are we headed, Benedict?”

“I have a suggested destination….” he begins enigmatically, an odd cadence to his voice, “but we will discuss that later, once we stop for the night at an inn.”

There is a little flutter behind your ribs at the thought, but it is forgotten as a strong gust of wind whistles over the carriage, making you shiver and burrow into the blanket, wishing you had grabbed your pelisse from the night bag before setting off.

You startle as Benedict pulls you snugly into his side, adjusting the carriage hood and then the blanket, too, so he provides partial shelter from the winds as they whip across the fields.

“I am sorry I do not have an enclosed carriage for you to journey in comfort,” he winces, his speech humming into you. “But it is best we use this speedier option anyway. We will cover more ground swiftly travelling light.”

You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you for the blanket, at least; it is very considerate,” you respond, not unpleased to have an excuse to cuddle into him as you reassure him: “I am well now.”

Indeed, the warmth of his flank on yours and the steady rocking motion of the carriage is soporific, the whirlwind of the day hitting you even though it is merely lunchtime.

“Please rest if you need to,” he intuits, “I will wake you if needed.”

And despite the elements, you find the lure of sleep inevitable.

A warm wetness on your brow stirs you.

“Y/n…”

You wish you could always be roused like this; your name a soft rumble from Benedict’s lips as they trace gently over your forehead. You nuzzle unthinkingly into the sound and feel, which has him chuckling into your skin.

“We are here, at the inn….” he murmurs, his breath hot into your hairline.

You blink awake. “We are?!’” You twist to see you are stopped alongside an elegant Tudor wood building. “How long have I been asleep?!”

“All afternoon,” he admits, a touch sheepish. “You looked so peaceful and I assume you must need the rest after a tumultuous few days.”

His touching manner has a warmth spreading behind your ribs that makes you push up and land a kiss on his jaw.

“Thank you,” you whisper, pulling away but pleased to see a dot of colour high on his cheekbones.

“‘Tis nothing,” he demures before changing the topic. “I am sure you are hungry and in need of refreshments. So we shall dine and remain here for the night. We have covered a considerable distance from London already—around forty miles.” He jumps down and stands expectantly holding out a hand for you to follow suit as he continues speaking. “To avoid attention, we should present ourselves as family relations—cousins, perhaps?”

“I am in a wedding dress,” you remind as you wrestle your way out of the blanket and reach for him to descend.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he scans down your form, lingering slightly.

“Oh yes. Well. Umm. Perchance as husband and wife then?” he flusters as you step down with his assistance.

“Would that not draw the attention you mentioned we should avoid?” you murmur, your hands still joined even though you are on the ground now.

“Do you have another suggestion?” he queries, his breath warm on your face as you stand entirely too close, fingers flexing around yours.

“Unless you wish me to remove my dress out here…” you goad, a little crest of victory as his pupils rapidly dilate and he huffs a breath, “...then I do not.”

“We have much to discuss,” he almost growls, which stokes something low in your belly as he tugs you along towards the entrance, only stopping to nod briefly to the inn’s groomsman who emerges to take care of your horses.

-xi-

The tavern at the inn is a warm, convivial space, wood-panelled, the smell of delicious foods wafting in the air alongside the tannin of wine and the ferrous tang of dark beer as crowds of people of all walks of life gather. Benedict sees you into a corner booth away from other patrons as he orders food, then goes to secure your accommodation for the night.

As he returns, passing you a glass of wine, there is a nervous churning in your gut; this is the first opportunity you have had to talk properly since you awoke to his life-changing letter.

“I have no idea where to begin,” he confesses, looking perplexed, and it makes you reach out in reassurance over the table, pulse strong in his raised veins under your fingertips.

“Your letter was the single most wondrous thing I have ever received,” you offer honestly, his eyes softening, making your heart flutter. “Benedict,” you take a steadying breath before ploughing on with the truth you have never spoken aloud before, “I have loved you for as long as I can remember…”

His face lights up, and his hand turns under yours, your palms touching as he laces your fingers together in a tight knot, then brings your joined fists to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently.

“Why did you never tell me?” He entreats softly.

“Why did you never tell me?” You return lightning quick, a quirk on your lips that has him chuckling.

“An entirely fair accusation,” he concedes, shuffling closer and grabbing your other hand, your heads so close together now. “I suppose I thought my feelings irrelevant, futile even, that you would secure a titled husband. Though why your father chose such a vile one confounds me, I must confess.”

“I believe that a chastisement,” you commence but are interrupted by food arriving at your table.

So, as you eat, you explain the whole story between mouthfuls. That you were able to delay your debut last season in your father’s absence, but it meant this season, he was determined to see you matched swiftly. Recounting fondly your time spent with your Aunt Eliza, Benedict appearing impressed as you reel off all the skills you now possess. You also talk in detail about how her encouragement meant you fell into the London art scene and how you know Henry Granville. Benedict listens intently, taking bites of his dinner, but his attention never wavers from you as you recount everything.

“So yes, I believe the match was about my father’s wish to quash a perceived rebellion more than a match society might deem appropriate for the firstborn daughter of a Viscount.”

“An untitled second son, even less so,” Benedict muses softly, downcasting his eyes, a flare of insecurity that has you putting down your cutlery and grabbing his jaw.

“Benedict, please do not,” you petition, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. “You know me. You know that I have never cared what society might think! If I were to marry, I would only ever want it to be a love match. I would not give a damn if my husband were a penniless beggar as long as he loves and respects me.”

You pause as he raises his soulful gaze to yours, your faces so close.

“Luckily for me, the man who stole my heart fifteen years ago is neither penniless nor a beggar. He is a wonderful, caring, handsome, passionate artist who I would indeed be lucky to paint next to,” you conclude with reference to a line in his letter, a scene you can picture so clearly it seems more premonition than a dream.

“Fifteen years?” he repeats, a look of utter wonderment as he turns his lips aside to kiss your palm where you still cup his face. You nod, a little nostalgic smile tugging at your lips as he adds: “Then I must confess… I have never been more grateful for my incessant curiosity; it led me to your diary and thus to this very moment.”

He takes your hands from his jaw, then kisses both of your knuckles again in turn, but this time, he lingers, his lips warm, damp and pursed open, and a trace of his tongue dabs your protruding bone. A shiver runs down your spine, stoking something acute, dangerous and exhilarating.

“Do you know I have kept that notebook hidden since I was fourteen? Sewing a secret pocket into all of my coats or hiding it under floorboards so it would never be found. For six years. Yet it took you less than one evening…”

“Maybe it was waiting to reveal itself to the one person who needed to see it the most…” he muses between kisses, his breath gusting hot over your fingers.

That seismic but simple poetic sentence devastates your ability or wish to talk anymore—a thronging need for him that you are powerless to resist any longer.

“Take me to our room, Benedict,” you command, voice tremulant with want and hope.

His head shoots up, his face a captivating tapestry of barely bridled passion and astonishment.

“But I-I booked us separate rooms,” he stumbles, confounded, and that gentlemanly act just makes you want him all the more.

Uncaring that you are sitting in a wedding dress in a public tavern, you pitch forward and capture his lips in a kiss that instantly becomes passionate and demanding, your hand running into his hair and tugging him closer.

“You should return the key and request your money back, for that will not be necessary…” you decree, breathing the words into his mouth.

That seems to light a fire in him. He shoves back the table and sweeps you into his arms bridal style, striding out of the room purposefully, his mouth hot on yours, your pounding heartbeat almost drowning out the bawdy, raucous cheers from the drunken patrons you pass.

-xii-

Once the room door clicks closed behind you, his demeanour softens. He gently removes your shoes before setting your stockinged feet down on a plush rug in front of a roaring fire. He tugs his jacket off so he stands before you in a colourful waistcoat and ruffled shirt.

“Are you certain?” His ask is chivalrous, tinged with such delicate hope it makes you melt.

“I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life,” you declare candidly, boldly stepping towards him.

His hands encircle your waist as yours slide up his biceps, the warmth of his skin through the crisp white fabric making your blood run warm.

“I may be chaste, but I know of what we are to do; I have been at Granville’s, remember. I also know that I want this. So very much.”

“I am the luckiest man…” he asserts in a low rumble, your honesty seeming to ignite him again as he crowds into you.

It’s an electrifying kiss that has your scalp tingling: his hands moulded to you, mapping your every curve as you take from each other as you never have before, desperation bubbling over with each parry of tongues. His fingers land on the buttons of your dress, between your shoulder blades, silently asking permission.

“Rip it off me,” you urge impulsively, chest heaving within your stays. “I want you to destroy this very dress and everything it represents….”

His responding growl inflames your core, molten liquid heat as his large hands grab the material and tear it asunder from your body so you stand before him, trembling with desire in just your stays and chemise.

He guides your fingers to his waistcoat, the crackle of the fire and the huff of his breaths the only sound in the room. His chest rises and falls steadily as you work on each button. When you reach the last one, he shucks the garment from his torso, then crosses his arms and discards his shirt in one swift motion, sailing away in a puffed arch. The broad expanse of smooth chest before you has you tongue-tied. A lean musculature and pale complexion reminiscent of Italian renaissance sculpture… but living, breathing and looking at you as if you are the most precious thing on earth.

Long arms wrap around you, enveloping you in his warmth, fingers spidering up the notches of your spine through the thin cotton of your chemise until they reach your stays and pluck upon the laces there. He unties them slowly as his lips trail hotly down your throat. You have observed forms of intimacy but didn't expect the firsthand experience to be so rich, so all-consuming. The sights, the sensations, the scents. Like the tangy undernotes lurking beneath his woody cologne, an aroma that is all him, his bare skin. It makes your mouth water and lean into him; a want to be a part of him almost—so much heat and touch.

As your loosened stays drop to the floor behind you, a clawing need for his flesh on yours has you rapidly discarding your chemise over your head, naked now save your stockings. But before he has the chance to see, you propel yourself into him again, his solid chest colliding with your breasts, your peaked nipples trapped against his warmth. A loud groan from his lips that you swallow as you push up onto tiptoes and wrap your arms around his strong neck, kissing him ferociously. His grip slides down to grasp your bottom, pulling you into him, something rigid pressing your stomach through the refined wool of his trousers.

“Let me look at you,” he pleads, withdrawing a half step, his eyes sweeping covetously down your body as you feel aglow in the heat of the adjacent fire. “You are so beautiful,” he attests shakily, an insistent throbbing between your legs that is all of his making, so close without any stimulation.

“Touch me, Benedict.”

It’s equal parts order and request, grabbing his wrist and guiding it low over your belly. His elegant fingertips curl through the patch of hair before swiping between your legs, dilated pupils boring into yours as you emit a wanton moan, knees almost buckling. A strong arm wraps around you to keep you steady as he observes you up close, repeating the motion, parting your folds this time, you honeying upon his fingertips as he glances over your swollen clit.

You whimper his name, and he claims your lips again, sliding the pad of his fingers over that spot over and over. Fingernails digging into his arm at his expert touch, the air swirling with the wet sound and scent of your arousal.

“You smell so utterly divine,” he groans, pitching forward and almost biting your bottom lip in a toothful, desperate meeting, your moans echoing over his tongue. “I need to taste you,” he stutters.

You have to shoot out an arm to grasp the mantlepiece as he suddenly drops to his knees before you and buries his face into your mound, inhaling deeply, his nose pressed onto your clitoral hood. He is so primal in his desperation as he lifts one of your legs and places it over his shoulder, diving into your folds, his tongue a wet, hot spear over your swollen nub. Your other hand burrows into his thick head of hair, scratching along his scalp as he hums his approval into your damp heat, the vibration causing sparks of pleasure to fan out.

It takes what little shred of concentration you have left to stay upright, clinging to the fireplace and him, rocketing skyward so dizzyingly fast, slack-jawed, breathless, rooted in your body as you gawk down at him. You had no idea this would be so intense, so carnal. His stare is fixated upwards on you, reading your reactions like a book, his glazed jaw moving with expert precision buried between your legs—an intoxicating sight that burns into your retinas.

“I need you to come for me, y/n,” he begs hotly into your soaked flesh, his tongue a muscular swipe greater than his fingers, his fingers plucking the ribbons holding your stockings loose so they slide down to your feet.

“I want to do so with you…” you gasp, unable to prevent whatever forms in your mouth from slipping out, leaking profusely onto his chin.

“You will; I promise,” his gravelly assurance, the permission you need to let go, riding his tongue with abandon, your body undulating, chasing that ephemeral high you have only experienced from your own touch before. But this is so much more, so wholly other, magnitudes indeed, the words from his letter never far from your thoughts even as you spiral somewhere close to bliss. His gaze locked onto you, able to read all your signs: skin flushed, ragged pants, shuddering with each quest of his tongue.

And then he gently bites your clit, and you are gone, his hands needing to clamp onto your hips to hold you upright as your body convulses. You cry out, sagging onto him as your body races with a high that fizzes in every cell, radiating in waves of pleasure that have you calling out, uncaring who may hear, incapable of anything but clinging to his hair for dear life and scrunching your toes into the thick wool rug underfoot.

You know you utter a curse, entirely overpowered by the euphoria coursing through you as he stands back up and pulls you into his arms, kissing your cheek chastely, the scent of you strong on his face. But as you come back to yourself, renewed passion stokes in you, determination to give as good as you have been given, a drive for mutual pleasure that has you shoving him backwards forcefully.

He falls back onto the bed, a look of total surprise claiming his face as you crowd over him, laying prone, attacking his trouser buttons with a vigour that has him stunned, his mouth agape. But he doesn't move to stop you, far from it. There is a flash in his eye as you grab his hands and cage them onto the sheets briefly before returning to attack his clothing. Wordlessly, he lifts his pelvis when you tap his hipbone, and then you are tugging his trousers down and off, flinging them across the room.

You are momentarily taken aback when you look down and realise he is without underwear, now as naked as you. His cock, nestled in a small patch of hair, is larger than you have seen before, tinged dark pink and leaking from the tip. It looks so good you bite your lip, a twinge deep inside that is pure want.

His moan is beautiful as you take him in hand. He is hot and steely in your grip as you move your hand up and down, learning his contours, fascinated by the contrast of how silky his skin is.

“I am so glad you have seen things you should not have,” he groans, squirming delightfully, so very responsive to your touch. It makes you greedy always to have him like this, yearning for you as much as you do him, stuttering your name as you change your grip and move a little faster.

“Please stop…” he grits out, his hand covering yours and slowing your motions, but you can tell it is utterly reluctant. “I am too close, my love…”

That reflexive term of endearment makes something melt behind your ribs, and you crawl up over him as you release his cock, claiming his lips in a kiss, his hands encircling your waist, pulling you down so that his cock is trapped under your pubic bone.

“I love you,” you breathe quietly over his lips, holding his face, wanting to convey the depth of feelings you have for this man.

“I love you too, y/n,” he replies earnestly, his eyes glassy, a cloud of emotion claiming his expression as his hands cup your jaw as well, a profound moment of heartfelt sincerity amid this tableau of fevered physicality.

“May I?”

Your ask is hesitant as you rearrange, sliding your legs up either side of his hips, signalling your wish to ride him, a need to be the one to give your virginity to him more than him to take it. Something achingly significant in the ability to choose.

He nods a reassuring and spellbound look, and a beguiling hitch in his throat as his tip brushes your entrance.

“It may hurt a little, my love,” he advises, wincing as if wishing that was not the case for you.

“I know,” you murmur back, grabbing his hands to aid you in sitting up so you have more range of motion.

And then, with a steadying breath, you lower yourself onto him, mouth falling open at the invasive stretch with barely a fraction of him inside you. His face is a kaleidoscope of everything you hope for him—joy and bliss. Your fingers grasp tight around his knuckles, your joined hands a knotted fist, as you feel a pinch of pain that makes you suck air through your teeth, knowing this is the moment you become a woman. So glad it is with him, the categorical love of your life.

Luckily, the ache is fleeting, and you sink lower, him moaning your name lyrically, you puffing a breath at the complete fullness. A pressure holding you open that is so galvanic you now understand the hedonism of what you have previously witnessed—the drive to satisfy an urge that is innate and potent.

“Oh my god, Benedict,” you stutter, as finally he is fully seated within your body, clinging to him, held open in the most arresting way.

“I know, my love, I know…” he soothes, untangling your hands to touch your skin, running his palms reverentially down your body. “You are amazing, a wonder…”

“Guide me…?”

He smiles and whispers gentle instructions for you to push up with your thighs and then sink back down, his hands now clamped around your waist to assist you. The sensation is indescribable, the drag of his cock against your walls as you slowly ascend and descend, trying to catalogue every second as a precious memory.

Your speed increases as you get used to the physicality of movement, a cloying, dewy heat spreading over both your bodies as you move in unison. He starts to tilt his hips off the bed to assist in your strokes, pushing to a new depth that catches your breath and has you muttering a curse, your hands scrabbling his abdomen, enjoying the flex of muscles there. His grip moves to your breasts, teasing your nipples in a way that has you gasping and riding harder. His fingers snagging on your sensitive buds is a beeline zipping to your engorged clit, that mashes into his body with every downward stroke you take. Still on a high from your last orgasm, it won't take much more for you to come again; this time, you hope in tandem.

His movements become more urgent, his noises louder, his touch firmer, squeezing you, bucking up with force now, making you moan with each new plunge onto him, as if he craves to leave an imprint of himself inside you.

“Are you close, my love?” you query, borrowing his term of endearment. It has his screwed-shut eyes flying open, his hands flexing on your hips, and a ripple up his rigid cock you can actually feel.

“Yesssss,” he hisses back, “please call me that again,” he entreats through clenched teeth, a prominent vein in his neck pulsing hard as his whole being seems to tense.

“My love,” you coo, treating it like a gift to bestow, addicted already to the effect it has on him, his fingers digging into your flesh in a way that will leave marks you will be proud to wear.

You move faster now, the sturdy bed squeaking in protest, the sound of your damp skin slapping together, taking even yourself by surprise at how visceral this is, especially for a first time. Expecting it to be less somehow and enraptured that instead, it is better, burning brighter than anything you have ever fantasised of—skin and sweat, muscle and bone, heart and body in rhapsody.

One of his hands squirrels between your legs, fingertips hooking against your clit, and within seconds, you are breaking. Your vision whiting out as you slam onto him, your pussy clenching in waves, his cock almost too much as you float somewhere that is both within you and a thousand miles above. Dimly, you sense his nails scrape your flesh as he calls out your name, loudly, debauched, wrecked, a strong pulse through his length as he shudders then goes entirely still, a warmth blooming deep inside your channel that is his seed, something about it so very primaeval.

You slump inelegantly onto his chest, huffing breaths, altered fundamentally by this magical experience. His touch is soothing, encouraging to lay upon him as he softens within you, eventually slipping out as you lay nuzzled together, exchanging soft words of sated joy—a sudden tide of fatigue lapping your edges. Fuzzily, you feel Benedict chuckle under you and, with hushed, tender words, rearrange your pliant body, rolling you onto your side and curling protectively around you, a warming presence that has sleep seizing you almost immediately.

Awakening the following morning in Benedict’s arms is sublime, his stubbled lips grazing your neck as he rolls you under his warm weight. Just as your body stirs under his sensual kisses, he stops and sighs, dropping his forehead onto your clavicle.

“I wish to spend a lifetime right here, entwined naked with you, my love, but alas, I must desist,” he laments softly. “We need to get moving…”

“You never did say your planned destination,” you point out, running your fingers into his lush hair as he tilts his handsome face up to meet your gaze.

“Did I not?” He lilts, feigning ignorance. “I blame you entirely; your beauty is far too distracting..” Flattery falling from his lips reflexively. “Well, anyway, we must make haste if we are to reach Scotland by Friday as I have planned.”

“Scotland?” you echo breathlessly. “That is so far! Why there?”

“Gretna Green, my love,” his eyes sparkling as he hovers over you, entwining the fingers of your left hands together, his thumb brushing your ring finger. “I hope you are amenable to my proposal...”

And your heart veritably explodes.

-xiii-

The journey is long but worth it. Your wedding, five days later, over the border in Scotland, is everything you could hope for—a beautiful, romantic, private moment for just the two of you, promising your lives to each other in secret. Something thrillingly illicit about its location, too, the place to which all forbidden lovers escape. You do not wear a wedding dress, just a simple light blue chiffon one you had thrown into your night bag, always a favourite since Benedict once complimented you in it. He wears a cravat in the same colour. Exchanging matching wedding bands engraved inside with the same phrase Benedict signed off his love confession with: A vila mon coeur, gardi li mo (Here is my heart, guard it well).

You are happily ensconced in his idyllic Wiltshire cottage by the time family reactions to your elopement reach you almost two weeks later. The Bridgertons are supportive if a little shocked; the dowager Viscountess is always enamoured with a dramatic love story. Your family is less so, but they cannot deny a match with a Bridgerton is no bad thing, even if it was fleeting gossip fodder. You hear from your mother that Lord Farringdon did not demand compensation for your abscondment from the altar. Apparently, you were not the first to do so. Rumour has it that the odious man is negotiating a marriage deal with the Cowpers for their wayward daughter. It may be the first time you have felt a pang of sympathy for Cressida.

Mostly, you are grateful that the more scandalous truth surrounding your union - Benedict stealing you away on your wedding day - never becomes public knowledge. Every couple must keep some secrets from the world, no?

Although, a couple of weeks later, on a leisurely Sunday morning, you discover your marriage can no longer be considered as such.

“Darling, you might want to see this…” Benedict drawls casually, wandering into the bathroom as you luxuriate in warm water.

He drops the latest issue of Lady Whistledown onto a nearby stool as he tugs off his shirt, apparently planning to join you in your bath. Your mouth falls open in shock as you grab the pamphlet. But it is not from his naked form as his trousers hit the floor; it's from what you read:

Lastly, this author may have to eat her hat. News has reached me that Mr Benedict Bridgerton had indeed done the almost unthinkable and married the spirited Miss Y/n Y/l/n. They exchanged vows in a quiet ceremony far from the prying eyes of the Ton and will now settle in Wiltshire, I hear.

“How did she find out?” you ponder aloud as he slides into the tub behind you. Surely Whistledown must be close to the Bridgertons to discover as such?

“I have not a clue. But perhaps I should send her some honey from our hives to make her headwear more digestible?” he jests, interrupting your reading by pulling you backwards into his arms.

“Mr Bridgerton!” you chastise playfully, holding the paper aloft to save it from the sloshing he creates as he surrounds you, laughing carefree, so much delightfully naked skin around yours.

“Are you done reading Mrs Bridgerton?” His tone changes to a husky murmur in your ear, his fingers trailing distractingly upwards over your ribs under the water.

“You just brought this to me, husband,” you riposte pointedly, but your argument dies off into a wanton noise as his hands slide up and cup your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples expertly. You abandon any attempt to focus on the page, tossing the paper aside and twisting to capture his lips with yours.

Upon the floor, as water splashes onto the wood nearby, the last few sentences you missed glow in a shaft of sunlight:

Congratulations on the latest Bridgerton love match, and I wish them a lifetime of happiness. As I am certain, do all of you.

What secrets will I unearth next, dear readers? Even I do not yet know. But I look forward to it. Don’t you?

Yours sincerely,

Lady Whistledown

masterlist • wips • taglist (follow this blog to be tagged)

Benedict taglist pt1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

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hees-mine · 1 year

Text

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Synopsis: Ever since the first night of playtime with your big brother, you couldn’t wait to spend more bonding time with him.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, stepcest, step brother, tit job, hand job, oral male receiving, fingering, inexperienced reader, dry humping, kissing, pet names.

If you’re uncomfortable with step relationships, this is not for you, so please kindly click off. Also they are both consenting adults. This is a work of fiction.

Genre: 18+, smut, minors do not interact!

WC: 2,622k

PART ONE

You were cuddled up in your blankets after finishing your bath. It was 10:00 P.M, and you were waiting for your brother to come and play with you again. You couldn’t wait to see him. He’d been gone for most of the day, and you missed him a lot. You pout at the thought today was the longest you ever spent away from him.

A soft knock on your door makes you jump in shock, but you quickly smile after seeing your big brother step through the door with a huge grin on his face. “Bubba!” You run to him at the door with your arms open, engulfing his large frame in a hug.

“Hi, sissy” When he doesn’t hug you back, you lean away from him with a clear look of confusion on your face.

“Why aren’t you hugging me?” You say sadly, and your arms drop to your sides.

He just laughs at your adorable little face. “Surprise!” He shows you what he’s been holding behind his back. It was the big teddy bear that you saw in the mall the other day, and when you asked for it, your parents said you already had too many, but that sure didn’t stop heeseung from getting it for his precious baby sister.

You gasp and practically yank the stuffed animal from his arms, pressing it to your cheek and feeling the warmth and fuzziness of its fur. “Thank you, Bubba!”

As you sat on your bed hugging the bear, heeseung closed the door, making sure he locked it before joining you in the bed. “You’re welcome, baby sis.” he leans down, placing a kiss on your forehead, making you feel all warm inside. “Now, are you gonna play all day with that bear, or do you wanna play with your big bubba?”

His face lights up when you toss the bear on the other side of the bed and immediately cling to his waist. “Wanna play with big Bubba”

“That’s what I thought.” he wastes no time grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling the loose material over your body. “Arms up,” you automatically obey and lift your arms so he can pull your shirt off. The soft bounce of your tits makes him sigh with nothing but pure delight as he smiles, and so do you. “Lay down, little one” The way you listen to everything he says without even questioning it makes his cock grow rigid beneath his pajamas.

He lays between your legs, leveling himself with your perfect mounds. Sticking his tongue out, he swipes over your erect nipple and hums from the softness on his tongue. “Bubba,” a mewl comes from your delicate frame, and he sucks your hardened bud into his mouth.

Naturally, your back arches slightly, and you begin to buck your hips against him as the heat between your legs intensifies.

He notices the way your hands rest at your sides, and he grips your wrist, guiding your hands to his head. You carefully threaded your fingers through his soft black hair, and he hummed, sliding his hand up to your chest and cupping your breast in his hand soft and gentle. “This feels good right little sissy?” You nod your head, eyes already glazed over with need and arousal.

That same wet, sticky feeling that you felt before was coming back, and you weren’t quite sure what was happening. It only happened when you were around him or if you thought about doing playtime with him.

The bucking of your hips becomes less subtle, and he pulls off your nipple to switch to your left one while scooping both your breasts into his large hands.

Biting on your lip to muffle your moans was nearly futile when you were being so loud.

Heeseung leaned back to lift up his shirt and expose himself to the curious yet shy gaze in your eyes. It makes him chuckle and twitch in his pajamas. As your eyes traveled to his cock he looked down at the very, very evident bulge and blushed slightly. He was already so hard just by being with you.

Instead of verbally answering your curiosity, he simply shimmied out of his sleepwear, showing you himself for the very first time.

You quickly covered your eyes, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. A part of you felt scared, but the other felt very excited.

His laugh makes you take your hands away from your eyes. No matter what you did, your gaze never faltered from what was between his legs. “It’s okay to look, baby sis.” he climbed on the bed, straddling your chest as he toyed with your nipples some more. “You can touch me too.”

You looked so fucking cute under him, big round eyes shiny and full of innocence while you shakily placed your hands on his thighs. “Go on,” he encouraged with a smile, and when you poked his shaft and jumped slightly, a hearty laugh bubbled in his chest as he bent down to kiss your forehead. “You’re so cute.” he clasps your hands with his larger ones.

“Wanna touch you some more” you pout, freeing your hands from his grip.

“Okay, want me to show you how I like it?” He smiles, tilting his head to the side as you nod eagerly. Taking your hand, he places it on his length, hissing as your cold hand wraps around the base. “There you go,” he whispers as his eyes grow darker. “Now rub it up and down like a good little sister.”

“Like this?” Your brows crease slightly as you move your hand up and down. He felt so big and warm in your hand, and you wanted to hold him more.

“Mm-hmm,” he grips the bed frame to stabilize himself, gritting his teeth so as not to wake up your guy’s parents in the next room. “See that on the tip?” He breathes out, and you nod. “Rub it all over.”

He moans when you skim the head with your thumb and begin coating his cock with his precum. “Is that right?”

“Yes, you’re doing so good for big brother.” he moved his hands from the bedpost and gripped your breasts. “That’s good,” he says softly and situates his cock between the soft flesh, slowly thrusting back and forth. “You feel so good, sissy,” he groans, eyes fixated on his thick veiny cock pushing past your tits. His tip peaks out every time he ruts forward, nearly grazing your lips.

You almost go crossed-eyed watching him on top of you, and you clench your legs together. The unfamiliar pulsating between your legs makes you cry out softly.

He averted his gaze to you, and he could have come seeing you hungrily staring at his cock. “Stick your tongue out, sissy,” he whispers. As soon as the words leave his lips, your tongue is hanging out all pretty and pink. “Now lick it like your favorite Lolli.”

You lap at his tip, eyes widening from the strong taste, and your heartbeat grows rapid the longer you feel his hot skin hitting your wet tongue. “How’s it taste?”

“Sweet,” you answer him as fast as possible so you can quickly go back to licking him. It tastes so good that you keep going back for more and more.

“Yeah?” He smirked at your words. “Suck on the tip” his thrusting came to a halt. If he continued on like that, he was surely bound to cum.

“Yes, Bubba” You open your mouth, the corners stretching far to accommodate his tip as you begin to suckle on it slowly.

“Oh fuck” he whines and throws his head back. The pleasure very short-lived when you stop sucking him in fear that you may have done something wrong.

“Sorry,” you say, feeling bad for what you had just done. “I hurt you.” You knew he only used words like that when something bad happened.

“Oh, it’s okay, sis.” he stroked your cheek with his palm. “You didn’t hurt me, see?” He smiles to make you comfortable and talks to you in the sweetest tone he can muster. “You’re making Bubba feel so good.”

“You don’t have to lie.” You turned your head away from him. “You only say bad words like that when you’re upset, Bubba.” You mumble and avoided all eye contact.

“Fair, but I also say that when I’m feeling really good too, and sissy Bubba feels so good right now,” he places your hand on his shaft, and you feel it hard and pulsating in your hand. “Feel how hard that is?” You nod innocently. “If you hurt me, it wouldn’t be so hard,” he chuckles. “That’s all because of you. You did that, baby sis. Only you can make Bubba this hard, okay?” You eye him In amazement, wondering how you were able to make him like that but no one else. The new knowledge made you feel proud. “Now go on and make your bubba feel good some more.” he pinched your cheek softly.

Opening your mouth, you cover the tip and even go a little further, taking him by surprise. An unwanted moan escaped his heaving chest, and he prayed it wasn’t as loud as it sounded to him. “Just like that, sissy” his mouth falls open, and he nearly drools the sticky sound of you slurping on his tip enough to make him feel like cumming then and there. The involuntary buck of his hips makes you gag, and his eyes grow wide and panicked. “I’m so sorry sissy. Are you okay?” You just giggle and suck him back in your mouth. The gag felt thrilling, and you wanted to feel it some more, he moans, feeling your hot mouth once more. You took him completely by surprise with your bold actions. He made sure you were one hundred percent okay before thrusting again and again until you were drooling on his big thick cock, and he’s more than impressed with how well you sucked him off for your first time. “Sis-“ he groaned while looking at your mouth covering him whole. It was so wet and sloppy, just the way he loved it. His head started to spin when you made eye contact with him, and he had to pull out of your mouth, panting and trying to catch his breath as his cock throbs in need of release.

You couldn’t react to his sudden departure because his hands were already pulling down your shorts and your panties till they were at your ankles. “I love how wet you get for me.” A feeling of warmth washed over you at his words. You loved it whenever he complimented you. It always made you feel so happy.

He laid down on top of you, gently opening your legs so he could fit in between them. “You wanna cuddle again?” His voice is low and deep in your ear as he holds you in his muscular arms.

“Yes, Bubba.” his chest being pressed against yours made your heart flutter. He was so close that it made you shy as you ducked your head down.

“You’re so cute,” he beams and tilts your head to look at him, pressing his lips against yours sweetly. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he reaches below, easily finding your clit and working it in tiny circles.

“Bubba!” You cry, hands flying to his back to brace yourself, and his hand immediately cups over your mouth.

“Shhh,” he looked you in the eyes with a stern look as he kept rubbing your private parts, spreading the wetness over your mound and covering you in your leak.

Your sounds were muffled, and they increased in volume. Luckily, his hand was enough to silence them when your eyes dropped low. He knew you were close, and he stuck two of his fingers deep in your hole to get you used to the feeling, his thumb still caressing your clit. “Cum” he whispered in your ear. You’re unsure of what he meant, but the shiver that went down your spine, along with the intense feeling down there, was enough to drown out any previous thoughts. “Good,” he drawled out the word, giving you a kiss on your cheek.

His hand stayed firmly cupped to your mouth, knowing you’d get even louder when he penetrated you.

He held his base, aiming at your hole. Slowly dipping his tip in, he pulled out and rubbed over your coated folds staining his cock in your juices before slipping it in inch by inch.

He paid close attention to your face when he was fully sheathed in your heat, the soft flutter of your warm, wet walls around nearly making it impossible for him not to let out a few moans of his own. “Like it sissy?” He whimpered, slowly rolling his hips and filling you out.

All you could do was nod, and he smiled, speeding up his thrusts until little squeaks could be heard beneath his palm. “My little sissy is so tight,” he groaned, snapping his hips fast and rough, getting you adjusted to his cock so you could take him with ease the next night. “Soaking your big Bubba like a good girl.”

You haven’t felt something so intense before, but it felt otherworldly having him on top and inside you. You couldn’t get enough. He always knew how to make you feel so warm and so good.

“Bubba’s gonna make you warm again. Want that?” He kissed your cheek softly, knowing he only had a few more strokes in him till it was over.

You screamed yes, but it could barely be heard past his hand, but he definitely got the message. “You’re so so good for your big brother, such a good little sister.” You felt his hand on that same spot from earlier. It felt good the first time, but it felt even better this time and again. That feeling in your lower tummy exploded, and you let out a cry, violently shaking underneath him.

“Sissy,” he moaned, uncupping your mouth to kiss you, attempting to quiet his own sounds as they got drowned out by you sloppily kissing each other. “I love you, I love you so much, sissy,” he whines into the kiss as he fills you up with his seed emptying out in the deepest part of you as he breathes deeply and makes out with you the best of his abilities.

Drained and barely able to move from the mind-numbing activity, you lay there desperately trying to catch your breath. “Breathe, little one.” he strokes your forehead and kisses your cheek. “Relax.” he holds you close, whispering in your ear how good you make him feel. “Love you, sis. Your big bubba loves you so much.” he kisses every inch of your face, smothering you when you’re finally able to think straight.

“Love you too, big Bubba,” you tell him shyly, and he hugs you tighter than ever.

He pulled out reluctantly, and he got about halfway before pushing back in. Not being able to part with you so soon, he at least wanted to cuddle for a few more minutes. Besides, your parents wouldn’t be waking up this late. “Mmm, Bubba,” you moan as you still feel him stuck deep inside you.

“Bubba’s gonna hold you while you sleep.” he kissed your neck resting beside your head.

“Okay, goodnight, Bubba.” Your eyes fall shut soon after from exhaustion, and the last thing you feel is a kiss on your lips and the warmth of him between your legs before drifting off to sleep.

Heeseung was just waiting till the weekend when both your guy’s parents went on vacation. Then he could really have you to himself, and you both could be as loud as you wanted, and every night would end in playtime.

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback!

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lobster-risotto · 7 months

Text

I never get on here and share my little writings or anything so, here, have some Astarion headcanons. SFW

Astarion is his softest right after he's fed. His mouth is still stained with blood and his body is thrumming with taken life, but he always stays close, hands sliding over his lover's body without any intent except for exploration. Pure intimacy.

His hands are warm only right after a large meal, but slightly rough from his blade and bow forming light calluses on his skin that never seem to go away.

Astarion loves to pick play fights. He likes the banter, the back and forth. It's playful and harmless and in some way, it makes him feel secure.

After the loss of the tadpole removing his access to sunlight, he loves being near fire. If he can't be found, look for the nearest fireplace and generally, you'll find him there, book in hand and wine glass filled to the brim.

Sometimes, Astarion watches his lover sleep. It might be weird to some people, but Astarion doesn't care. This person changed him entirely, made him feel things he forgot he could. Made him feel safe. There's nothing he'd rather look at when he's restless.

Astarion has a tendency to lose focus on what matters most. He definitely has a self-serving personality, and makes a great effort to keep in mind that he's not the only person he needs to look out for. Even after a few decades, he still catches himself making decisions without his lover--but he catches himself by then, and changes his behavior. They give him that respect, it's the least he can do to return such a favor.

Astarion can be rough--likes to be even. Sparring, too-tight hugs, little nips during kisses just to hear his partner laugh. But when Astarion chooses to be gentle, he treats his lover as if they are made of the thinnest glass. He brushes their cheek with the backs of his knuckles, delicately run his fingers tips along their ear. His voice becomes quiet and velvety, whispering, "I love you. I've stolen things beyond any nameable value, but your heart, darling, is the only priceless thing I've had the honor of holding."

NSFW

Astarion finds that he likes a balance when it comes to sex. Roughness is matched with words of love and growled demands for more and passion. He adores the sound of his lover receiving pleasure, and more so, he loves when they reciprocate.

Astarion doesn't always initiate, and makes it clear he doesn't always want to once he becomes more comfortable. He likes feeling wanted by his partner. He likes feeling as if their attention lies nowhere but him.

He's a man of many talents of course, but sometimes, he gets flustered by it all. Letting his lover enjoy themselves, and he gets to enjoy it too, is his favorite thing. Sometimes, the sight of them flushed and breathing heavy and moaning out his name has him sputtering for a moment until he catches his bearings.

It's all so new, when he first has sex with someone for no reason other than wanting to. The feeling of their body is not only arousing, but it's comforting. It's right and Astarion realizes, perhaps, that what had always been missing was connection.

I certainly have more but this is just some I've thought of c:

#astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #my stuff #headcanons

698 notes · View notes

lipglossanon · 1 year

Text

Because

☆───── ⋆⋅🐾⋅⋆ ─────☆

puppy!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)

Shoutout to all of those who gave me the inspo! There are many anons and mutuals; the few I can remember are 🐶 anon, @rusty-phasma, and 🪷 anon

big kisses to everyone not listed as well; you guys are all amazing and thank you for encouraging me! 😭 💜

Warnings: 18+, puppy!leon, hybrid!leon, pet/owner dynamics, eager Leon, switch Leon, kissing, licking, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), collar and leash play, mounting, knotting, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, reader says no but doesn’t really mean it so slight noncon if that’s triggering

Not proofread ✍️

Title from Because by Alice Cooper (cover of the original Beatles version)

☆───── ⋆⋅🐾⋅⋆ ─────☆

“He’s so cute!”

“Oh, he’s just adorable.”

“What’s his name?”

You let the chatter of strangers disappear into the background when bypassing the mall’s pet shop window as you walk to the parking garage.

“Thinking about adopting him?”

High pitched laughter, “With those list of issues, no way!”

“Thought you said he was cute!”

“He is, just not that cute.”

Frowning to yourself, you turn to see what new addition they added to the storefront to garner so much attention.

Oh.

He is cute.

You glare at the retreating backs of the group of people laughing and giggling as they walk away from the window. You step closer, now that you’re able, and just watch the hybrid as he tinkers with something in his hands. He looks really sweet, blue eyes almost shielded by his sandy blonde fringe.

You step a little closer and he tilts his head to the side before raising it all the way to look up at you. He smiles, floppy ears perking up on his head as his tail wags. Internally, you’re yelling at yourself not to do it, but you find yourself looking down at the little page of information taped to the glass.

“Leon, huh?” you murmur, eyes glancing over at him before going back to the paper.

You can understand why they were snickering to themselves; he’s never had an owner and looks like there’s still a lot of room for improvement since he’s not fully house broken yet. Your eyes skim through the rest, but it’s just height, weight, etc.

Turning back to him, you see that he has moved closer to the glass, eyes watching you excitedly.

“Leon,” you mouth at him and he nods, stepping up to the window and placing his hands on it.

Sighing to yourself, you hope you don’t regret this later, you place your hand on the glass with him repeating the gesture.

You smile at him and his tail wags back and forth so fast it’s almost a blur.

“Hi.”

You adopt Leon on the spot, probably the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done in your life. The clerk helps you with all of the paperwork, happy the hybrid wouldn’t be stuck here too long. He informs you of the do’s and don’ts of hybrid care, giving you a folder full of information as well as a little duffle of items.

“He’s excitable so you’ll have some issues with him trying to run off. I’d keep him leashed til you get home,” the clerk hands you a leash, leading you to the back where Leon was taken as you filled out the application.

“Hi,” his smile makes one appear on your face.

“Hi, Leon, you’re coming home with me today.”

He dashes across the room startling you as he pulls you into a bear hug.

“I’m so lucky, you’re so pretty and smell so good, and—“

“Leon,” the clerk’s firm voice cuts him off, quickly slipping a collar on his neck.

Leon’s ears droop and he scuffs the floor with his shoe, “Sorry miss.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur where the clerk can’t hear, “I know you’re just happy.”

His ears perk up and tail starts to wag, “Yeah, yeah I really am.”

Leon bares his neck to you for you to snap the leash clip on his collar. He preens as you lead him out of the store and through the mall. Luckily you were headed home to begin with, so taking Leon straight there isn’t an issue. He behaves the entire drive home much to your relief, a little worried about what the clerk meant by excitable.

You find yourself falling into an easy pattern with Leon; he’s a fast learner, so he adapted to your routine pretty quickly. The housebroken issue resolved itself (he just never lived with anyone before so they had to say that on the form). He enjoys having his own separate room and loves taking baths.

Leon even helps with chores around the house so by the time you’re home from work, you can cook a light meal for the two of you and relax on the couch. He always waits for you by the door, eagerly pressing against you and licking your neck and face in greeting.

Today’s routine jars you when coming home, there isn’t a happy Leon waiting at the door. Frowning to yourself, you kick off your shoes and drop your bag on the counter.

“Leon?” you call out.

Walking further into the house, you pass by your half closed door and hear whining. You pause and peek past the door frame, surprise making your eyes wide.

Discarded knotting toys from the pet shop lay scattered all over the floor— obviously used recently as they’re all dripping with jizz. Looking over you can see Leon completely naked on the bed, buried in a pile of your clothes as he ruts into a toy. He looks fucked out already, hazy eyed and tongue lolled out, panting.

“Leon,” you murmur, stepping inside the room.

“Miss owner,” he whines, tail thumping against the bed, tears making his blue eyes seem bigger, “‘m sorry for making a mess. Hurts.”

Your heart beats fast as you take in his pitiful face.

“It’s okay, it looks like a rut or heat of some kind,” you keep your voice soft, stepping up to the bed to ruffle his ears.

He whines again, pressing up into your touches as hips keep humping into his toy, before looking at you with big eyes, “Oh no, oh I’m—“

He growls and you watch as his cock knots the toy, cum bubbling out of the sleeve until it’s spilling down the sides and coating your shirts and panties underneath.

“Leon,” you watch dumbfounded as he ruts down, smearing the cum across your underwear specifically.

“Smell so good, miss,” he moans, dilated eyes staring at the hem of your skirt, “makes me wanna—”

“No, Leon,” your voice is firm, “the toys are okay, but you can’t be… doing this every time, okay? This is my bed and clothes and it’s just inappropriate.”

He whimpers, head ducking down as he shrinks in on himself.

Your hand hesitates but you softly brush his fuzzy ears, “Hey, I’m not mad, Leon. We just need to learn boundaries, okay? This is a very,” you pause trying to think of a way to say it.

“Personal moment,” you gently move his head to look up at you, “I don’t want you to feel bad for something natural.”

“Not mad?” he sniffles, tail sluggishly wagging.

You smile and pet him more, “Not mad, baby. You’re such a good boy for me.”

He smiles through his tears, “Love being your good boy, miss.”

Your eyes drop to the mess covering your sheets and he flushes hotly.

“I’m gonna clean it up, just,” he trails off embarrassed, “I have to wait for my knot to go down.”

“That’s okay,” you stroke his ears one last time and step back, walking to the door, “I’ll go make dinner, just clean up and meet me at the table.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs, tail beating against the bed.

A week goes by and there isn’t another incident, although you’re sure you’re missing some clothing items but you can’t for the life of you figure out what.

Leon’s whines and whimpers can be heard throughout the house late at night, disrupting your sleep but you don’t have the heart to tell him to stop. He’s already mentioned how painful it can be if he goes too long without any relief.

After endless google and Reddit searches, you’re at your wits end on how to help. The answers are all over the place but all agree that the toys are a temporary fix. You stumble across a thread run by hybrids themselves with much more informative and helpful answers. You bite the bullet and post your question to the page under a throwaway account. In no time at all, you have dozens then hundreds of replies.

Aside from the silly joke or meme answers, you get a lot of information, all of it basically saying you should offer your hybrid help with his rut. A simple handjob can stave off urges for weeks at a time. You bite your thumb nail as you read the more steamy answers, feeling a pulse of arousal throb in your clit at picturing Leon in such a way.

You hold off but by the end of the second week of Leon looking miserable, you finally cave and offer to help him (your own bubbling arousal and curiosity peaking). His eyes light up and you gesture for him to sit down on the couch.

“Only my hand, Leon. And if you misbehave then you’re going to be sent to your room.”

“Promise I’ll be a good boy,” he nods so hard one of his ears flip backwards making you giggle.

He smiles at you and licks your cheek, “So pretty, miss owner.”

“Leon,” you roll your eyes feeling shy, “sit next to me so I can help you.”

He quickly undresses and sits down, thigh pressing against yours, legs easily falling open as his cock bobs and leaks everywhere.

Whining, he nuzzles into your shoulder, “s’this okay?”

You hum, “Yeah, you’re okay, Leon.”

Your hand reaches out and grasps his hot throbbing dick, making him arch up with a sigh. Biting your lip, you try to ignore how much you’re getting turned on from this.

“Thank you,” he mouths at your skin, “thank you so much, promise to be so good for you.”

You suppress the shiver those words give you and slowly stroke along his thick cock.

“You’re really big,” you mutter out loud before thinking twice.

He groans, “That’s good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you laugh softly, “it’s very good, means you’ll feel good inside someone.”

His cock kicks in your hand, globs of precum dripping from the tip to coat your fingers. You lick your lips and tease across his fat tip, coaxing more precum to dribble out.

He pants and whines into your shoulder as you tease him, dragging out your quick handjob into something that edges him for hours.

He’s slurring and whining against you, shoulder and neck soaked with his spit as he laps and licks at the skin he can reach.

“Miss owner, I wanna cum, I’ve been such a good boy,” he whimpers, “wanna knot your hand, please. You said I could.”

“Not yet,” you’re so turned out, your panties are wet and sticky with slick, “wanna see how long you can last.”

He growls and whimpers but lets you keep teasing his cock, playing with the head before feathering your fingers across his balls and knot.

You watch as tears drip down his cheeks when he clenches his eyes shut. Feeling a little bad for him, you pick up your pace and jerk him off, getting a little rougher in your movement.

“Oh, oh, that’s so good,” he mumbles, “gonna knot you, gonna knot my sweet owner.”

Your thighs clench together trying to alleviate the want building in your core. He growls and grunts as he pushes up into your fist, knot bumping against your fingers as it gets bigger.

Snarling against your shoulder, he humps the tight tunnel of your fingers until sticky cum spurts from his tip, coating your hand as it drips down onto his knot and sac.

“Good boy, Leon,” you keep your voice warm and soft, “you did so good for me.”

He keens in the back of his throat and nuzzles your spit covered skin.

“Thank you, I feel better,” he sighs happily, ears drooping as he yawns, “gonna take a bath.”

“Okay,” you reply as he shuffles to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom.

You listen for the door to click before you bring your hand up to your mouth. Just pure curiosity is what you tell yourself as you press two cum covered fingers into your mouth. A moan slips past your lips as Leon’s salty flavor coats your tongue.

Your phone buzzing jolts you from your illicit deed, arousal and shame warring in your chest as you quickly head to the sink to wash your hands. You look into your own eyes through the mirror; you were just curious that’s all, you project to yourself.

100% nosey curiosity.

So what if you got even wetter at tasting Leon’s thick cum.

Now that you know what it’s like in your mouth, you’ll never have to think about it again.

Totally not a big deal.

Period.

Hours later as you lay in bed, glaring at your watch face reading 2:37am, that little voice of doubt chimes in that maybe it was a big deal after all.

You muffle a groan into your pillow, tossing and turning until you can find a comfortable spot. That Reddit page said you could offer a lot more than just your hand.. is the last thought you have before you finally succumb to the sweet embrace of sleep.

The next morning Leon is rousing you much too early for four hours of sleep.

“But you said we could go to the park today,” he pouts, his blue eyes pleading.

“I did, didn’t I?” you sigh to yourself, scrubbing a hand over your sleep filled eyes, “alright, I’m up.”

“Thank you,” he jumps onto the bed, tongue lapping at your cheek making you giggle.

“Leon!” you laugh harder as he crawls completely on top of you, pinning you down to lick across your jaw and ear.

“Thank you so, so much,” he hums against you, mouth panting as he licks across the seam of your lips.

“Leon, don’t—“

Your words are drowned out as he licks into your mouth, sloppy puppy spit dripping all down your lips and chin. Whining, you try to push him off but he has your arms pressed down into the blankets.

He hums louder, tongue now slowly lapping into your mouth making you squirm underneath him. Moaning, you go limp as his tongue flutters against yours, drooling all in your mouth so much you swallow it down before you choke. He takes it as a sign you like it, making sure to drip even more puppy spit into your mouth.

Your nipples tingle as he deepens the sloppy make out, Leon rocking his hips down onto you as he keeps up the slow motion of pressing his tongue in and out of your mouth. When you shift your thighs, you can feel how your wet panties cling to your cunt.

Moaning, you start to suck on Leon’s thick tongue, crossing that imaginary line you drew for yourself. You want this so why not let yourself have it? Leon notices the change and excitedly presses his mouth closer, now using his lips to messily kiss you instead of just licking into your mouth.

At some point, Leon shifts enough for you to move your arms, but you only bring them up to tangle in his hair—being mindful of his soft ears. You sigh and mewl as he gets more aggressive, teeth nipping your lips before fucking his tongue roughly into your mouth. After deep, sloppy, spit filled kisses, Leon finally pulls away.

“God, you smell so good,” he pants and chuffs against your neck.

“W-what,” you clear your throat, feeling all out of sorts, “what about the park?”

“Can we still go?” his ears perk up, making you chuckle.

“Yeah, but I need to get dressed.”

“Will you wear that pretty dress?” Leon leans up to look at you bashfully.

You squint up at him, a confused smile on your face, “Sure, I guess. If the weather is nice enough.”

His tail wags, “It is! I’m gonna go get my collar.”

He scrambles off the bed and beelines it for his room, leaving your door open. You sigh and stare up at the ceiling for a moment, feeling like you should take a cold shower.

Lugging yourself out of bed, you grab your change of clothes and head into the en suite bathroom. You finish your ablutions and change—shooting yourself a thumbs up in the mirror as you leave the bathroom.

Stepping back into your room, Leon’s already crowding you, collar on as he presses the clipped leash into your hand.

“You’re so pretty,” he gives you a wide smile, blue eyes gazing down to your dress hem, “smell so good.”

He drops down onto his knees and presses his face under your dress, burying his nose against your panty clad pussy.

“Leon!” you gasp, hand tangling in the leash and pulling, but he rears against the pressure, tongue lapping at the thin lace gusset of your panties.

You pull harder and he groans, bringing his palms up to press on your hips, sending you stumbling back against the wall. He quickly shifts with your body, nosing your thighs before sloppily licking against your cunt.

You shakily pull up the edge of your dress until you can see Leon’s face. His dilated eyes flicker up to yours, hair ruffled and messy, ears twitching.

“Leon,” you whimper, feeling his teeth tug and nip the fabric until he’s able to rip a hole into it.

His tongue slips into the tear, making it larger until you’re basically wearing crotch less panties. Tugging on the leash just makes him grunt and moan into your pussy, tongue licking up the slick dripping from your hole.

“Fuck,” you rock your hips making Leon growl, tail wagging behind him as his tongue flutters in your clenching hole.

He moves up, tongue dragging through your pussy lips to circle your sensitive bundle of nerves til you’re whimpering.

“G-good boy, Leon, right there, oh god,” you grind your sensitive bundle against his mouth as he suckles it between his lips.

He whines and teases your pudgy clit with his lips and tongue as you yank his leash to keep his face right where you want. He pants and moans, moving his mouth against your pussy, tongue fluttering in and out of your hole.

You tighten the pull on his leash and ride his face with a moan. You can hear how wet you are from the messy sounds of Leon’s mouth. He moves back up to lap and suck at your clit, tail thumping against the floor as he groans against the sensitive bud like he can’t get enough of your taste.

He finally pulls away with a huff, mouth swollen and shiny with slick. Before you can say anything, he’s standing up so fast you lose grip on the leash and he’s shoving you over the edge of the bed and flipping your dress up. Your panties are ripped in half and you feel his thick cock pressing into your hole.

“Leon,” you try to raise up but he snarls and boxes you in, sinking his cock into you fast and deep.

You wail and thrash as he grunts, rocking his dick deep into your soaked pussy until the tip grinds against the opening to your womb.

Clenching and moaning, tears bead your water line, “S’too much.”

He licks the shell of your ear making you shiver, pulling halfway out of your pulsing walls to fuck back into your cunt.

“Been wanting to knot your pussy for ages,” he whines, the sound of skin slapping together making you clench against his dick.

“So naughty, letting me fuck your hand, cumming all over you, letting other pups know you’re all mine,” he mouths and lick all over the back of your neck and across your shoulders.

“Just wanted t’help,” you mumble, feeling your pussy throb as he bullies his cock against your g-spot, bottoming out on every thrust.

“Mm but you are helping now, miss owner,” Leon chuffs the back of your head, hips flexing as he ruts his dick into your greedy cunt, “sweet pussy all wet and willing for my puppy knot.”

You clamp down hard on his thick cock with a loud whine, “Oh, f-fuck.”

He picks up on that instantly and growls low, “Like my puppy knot? Wanna feel it lock me inside your tight wet hole?”

Hot arousal curls in your abdomen, clit throbbing at the thought of Leon knotting you.

“Leon,” you mewl, fingers twisting in your sheets, cunt squelching loudly around his dick as you get even more wet and tight.

“That’s it, miss owner,” he rumbles low in his chest, sloppily licking your shoulders, “get that pussy nice and slick for my knot.”

You’re coated in puppy spit and precum at this point, nipples hard and pointed as Leon drags you back onto his cock.

“Gotta show you how good of a mate I can be,” he nips at your neck, “show you I can fill you up how you need, give you lots of pups.”

“Leon,” you whine as he bullies into your soaking wet hole over and over, “n-no pups, you gotta pull out.”

“But I gotta give you my knot,” he licks across your shoulder blade, “gotta breed your pussy deep.”

Shuddering, your arms give out, forcing your back into a deeper arch allowing Leon to fuck your pussy harder.

“Gonna make you my bitch,” he growls into your ear, drooling all over your neck, “gonna mount you whenever I want, knot you so good you’ll beg for it.”

Hearing him call you a bitch in that low growl makes you press back harder into his thrusts, pussy squeezing his cock like crazy.

“Leon,” you drag out his name with a moaning pant, “we can’t.”

“Why? Tell me one good reason why and I’ll stop, miss owner.”

“Cause,” your mind’s foggy with arousal, “cause…”

You shiver as he ruts deeper into your slick pussy, bullying that spongy spot in your cunt that makes you clench on him repeatedly.

“Why?” he licks your ear, “cause you like it too much? Don’t want my dripping puppy cock filling you up? Giving you a thick creampie to make you feel nice and full.”

“Yes,” you moan, “I shouldn’t—“

“Miss owner, just let me do it one time, just so we both can see how it feels,” his voice is sweet making your thoughts syrup thick, “just let my fat puppy cock knot you one time.”

You shudder, pussy pulsing and fluttering around him as slick leaks down your thighs, “Just once?”

He growls in satisfaction, “Yeah, just once. Promise.”

You both know as soon as he knots you, you’re going to like it too much to stop. It’s why he laughs into your shoulder making you moan.

“Can’t wait to empty my balls in your fat pussy,” he grunts.

You wail as his tip knocks against your cervix roughly.

“Love the way you sound,” he nips your neck, “love the way you smell, love how sweet you taste,” his voice dips into a deeper octave, “love how your hot pussy grips me so fucking tight. She’s really working for that puppy knot, huh?”

Drooling into the sheets, you whimper in reply, walls fluttering and clenching around his thick cock. The way he’s thrusting into your hole grinds your clit against the bedspread, orgasm steadily building higher and higher to its peak.

“G’nna cum,” you slur out, toes curling as your hips shake, “gonna cum, fuck, Leon!”

You bury your face in the sheets as you cry out, cunt pulsing and milking his cock as he keeps railing you into the bed.

“Yes, yes,” he snaps his teeth over your shoulder, “feels so good, gonna make me pop my knot early, fuck, take it, take it, miss owner, take my fucking cock.”

You keen pitifully as he bares down over your body, pressing his knot past the wet, clenching hole of your pussy with a low howl. Feeling his knot seal you together, your cunt clamps down around him tightly squeezing around his cock and knot.

“Mmm so perfect,” he huffs against your ear, “doesn’t that feel so good? So warm and sticky inside? So much puppy cum filling you up.”

You mewl pitifully as he rocks against you, cock grinding all against the spongy spot in the front of your cunt making a second orgasm wash weakly through you.

“Can knot you all day, miss owner,” he kisses the side of your cheek, “instead of going to the park,” he licks the corner of your mouth, “can I? Promise it’ll feel so good.”

You turn your head to suck his tongue into your mouth. He moans and eagerly licks into your open mouth.

“S’fine, Leon,” you pull away with a sigh as he grinds your clit against the bedspread, “this’ll help, right?”

His tail wags happily, “Uh huh, help me out so much. S’okay to knot you again and again right? As much as I need?”

Brain feeling like thick syrup from the best orgasm of your life, you nod, “As much as you need.”

#lipglossanon #puppy!leon s kennedy #puppy!leon kennedy #puppy!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #puppy!leon s kennedy smut #puppy!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #fem!reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy smut #lipglossmasterlist #hybrid!leon s kennedy #hybrid leon kennedy #hybrid au

1K notes · View notes

twstowo · 8 months

Note

Hello, my first request here, if it's not inconvenient I would like to make a request, where Leona and Jamil have a boyfriend or girlfriend, who likes to shower them with love and affection, for example he is always giving them kisses on the face, or spoiling them , giving gifts, practically a Y/N who is overflowing with love for her boyfriend (my boys need more love)

♡︎I'm so sorry for taking so long to answer you! I also hope you don't mind but I decided to add more characters since I really liked your idea!

♡︎Includes: Second Years and Leona

⋆⋅☆Leona:

Leona tends to be quite dramatic about it. He can't easily accept the fact that you love him so much and genuinely enjoy showing him affection. In public, if you start giving him kisses or hugs, he may initially be reluctant to reciprocate. He'll likely playfully tease you, hoping to embarrass you enough to tone it down. If you persist, he might have to leave, or he'll end up smiling like a fool.

When you give him gifts, he'll constantly ask why you chose that particular item. It's not that he dislikes it, on the contrary, he'll cherish your gift forever. He just struggles with expressing his feelings. Overall, he appreciates your affection but finds it challenging to show it. Please bear with him, he's genuinely trying his best.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Riddle:

If you kiss him unexpectedly in public, he'll become irritated and pause to explain why it's inappropriate. However, he won't be able to finish his sentence once he catches a glimpse of your face—your beautiful eyes and very kissable lips. Suddenly, he finds himself on the receiving end of improper actions. By the Seven, you might be the end of him.

Not particularly fond of public displays of affection, Riddle believes those moments should remain private. If you shower him with affection in private, he'll feel content. Despite being giddy and somewhat embarrassed by these newfound feelings, he'll reciprocate the affection.

When you give him gifts, he'll always be polite, expressing gratitude no matter the item, and he'll often seal it with a kiss on the cheek. The next time you meet, he'll make sure to present you with a sizable bouquet of roses.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Ruggie:

Nervously laughing throughout the entire encounter, he's taken aback when you kiss him in front of everyone. A faint blush graces his face as he responds with his signature silly laugh. Your affection fills him with happiness, he couldn't ask for a better partner. While he tries to reciprocate your affection, he's more reserved when there are many people around.

Receiving gifts from you brings him immense joy, as he's never experienced such gestures from anyone else before. He'll eagerly try to reciprocate, often offering food or a random flower he's come across.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Azul:

Azul appreciates all the attention and affection you give him, but he's a bit cautious about public displays due to his business image. He politely asks you to keep things low-key when you're around others, knowing how easily he can lose composure when you shower him with kisses.

As someone who enjoys spoiling you with gifts, Azul would be delighted if you reciprocated with small items he likes. It adds an extra layer of joy to his already generous gift-giving habits.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Jade:

Jade thoroughly enjoys teasing you about your affectionate gestures, finding delight in the moments he catches you off guard. He doesn't shy away from planting random kisses on you throughout the day, relishing in the joy of seeing you blush and feel embarrassed. Doesn’t care about you being affectionate in public, after all, no one dares to stare at the two of you.

If you present Jade with little mushroom trinkets, especially different species, he'll be overjoyed. It shows your interest in his hobbies and proves that you pay attention to the things he shares and cares about.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Floyd:

If he is in a good mood, he will be as affectionate as you and won’t let you leave him until he is satisfied. If he is in a bad mood don’t expect him to be very into it as he will probably just accept your affection and won’t care much about it, he might even just leave. Don’t take it personally, because sooner or later he will come back in a good mood and the two of you can just be all lovey-dovey again.

He will keep all of your presents and even likes giving you small stuff that he finds that makes him think of you. He will literally bring you a rock and say it reminded him of you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Kalim:

The two of you are a perfect match. If you initiate any form of affection, he'll reciprocate with double the enthusiasm, it's almost like a competition. A simple kiss on the cheek in the school hallway turns into him spinning you around in a joyous hug while showering your face with nonstop kisses. Despite the disapproving looks from onlookers, the two of you remain unfazed.

When it comes to gifts, he reciprocates with double the generosity. You find yourself receiving so many presents from him that you're not sure where to put them all by the end of the day. His enthusiasm for gift-giving knows no bounds, and he takes joy in showering you with tokens of his affection.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Jamil:

In public, he tends to distance himself if you initiate affection, firmly believing such moments should be private. When it's just the two of you, he initially feels uneasy being the center of attention. However, as you shower him with endless kisses, he experiences for the first time a mix of vulnerability and trust, allowing you to express your love freely.

He genuinely appreciates both small and large gifts from you, especially when they align with things he mentioned liking before. It makes him feel valued and heard, knowing that you pay attention to the details of his preferences. As a gesture of gratitude, he ensures that you're treated to freshly prepared meals every single day. He takes pleasure in observing your reactions as you enjoy the food he lovingly makes for you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Silver:

Both of you are really into it, turning into a sappy couple. At the start, he was a bit shy about the affection you showered him with, but as time passed, he opened up to it, caring less about whether people are watching. After all, you two are dating, so expressing your feelings is only natural.

When it comes to gifts he accepts every one of them, but he does struggle with finding the right things to give in return. Seeking advice from Lilia, he often brings you flowers as a thoughtful gesture.

#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst reader #twst x reader #x reader #leona x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #twst silver

711 notes · View notes

trulyhblue · 8 months

Text

Baby England (Part Two)

Lionesses x Young! Reader, Leah Williamson x Reader (platonic) Keira Walsh x Reader (platonic), Lucy Bronze x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: fluffy angst, mentions of blood/injury, coarse language.

Masterlist

__________________________

The Euros were flying past, and before you knew it, you were tapping your studs anxiously against the tunnel floor as you awaited the start of the Quarter Finals.

Every other game up until now had been different. You were promised a secure spot on the bench, assured the security of a safety sub during the last third of the game. You didn't receive the special treatment when you played. If anything, you were pushed harder by your opponents’ attempts to spike you out. You were young, younger than most of the women you played with and against, but you were there for a reason.

Sometimes you needed to be reminded that.

You were versing the Spanish Team. Contrary to many of your teammates, this was your first time playing them. Of course, you were aware of the individuals that you were playing against. You would be lying if you said you didn't idolize them. The mere idea of standing next to Mapi Leon and Aitana Bonmati was a frightening feeling. It was a bugging sensation filling your stomach. You tried searching the floor for any hope to calm your nerves, but the absence of serenity did nothing in response.

You weren't quite sure why Sarina had decided to put you in the starting eleven, especially in such a critical, knockout stage like today. The Euros were your first major tournament. When you told Leah the news, she wouldn't let you go from a bear-crushing hug until you wrenched her arms off you. She was reeling with excitement at the prospect of you standing alongside her in front of thousands of people. She couldn't contain her elation on the way to Falmer Stadium, and you tried to find the same emotions within yourself but the notion was proven difficult.

Hempo and Alex were giggling in a huddle as the team warmed up together. Leah was running laps with Beth. Rach and Millie were dribbling a ball with Ellen and Fran, and you were left stretching by the drink bottles, deep within your own thoughts.

You could see the Spanish girls across the field, eloping the growing crowd that littered the stands, all while split into groups as they carried out their respective warm-ups. You felt your hamstring tug while you ran you hands down your leg, tugging at your muscles so that they wouldn't tweak in the game.

The more time went by, with physios packing up their kits and subs heading over to the sideline, the more of a nervous wreck you became. You could feel the slight shake in your hands, the flood of adrenaline in your veins. Heart thumping out of your chest, beating in your ears, and bile rising in your throat.

This was your first time starting for your country. You had the impression that this was the one chance you could show not only Sarina, but all the media and fans that doubted your ability to set the tone for the game that you were capable of doing so. You wanted to make the first tackles, and produce opportunities. As a midfielder, you strived to cross the ball into the box for your strikers. Your job was to free the field of potential threats and switch between attacking and defensive plays depending on the style of your opponent.

You wanted everyone to know that you deserved to be in the starting eleven. You worked night and day, all the time, to make your dream come true. This was your life, your career, your journey.

The weight of this fell on your shoulders all at once in the tunnel as the narrow hallway blacked out most of the crowd’s roar. Everyone was in their own bubble, preparing themselves for the difficult match to come. Even as you walked out, eyes plastered on the floor, refusing to meet the eager euphoria of the crowd or anyone around you, the gravity of your situation began to set in.

You felt Leah kiss your forehead when walking past. The blush that painted your cheeks when you shook Mapi’s hand went straight through you. Nothing snapped you out of your haze. The crowd’s thundering booms fell beneath you, a level of determination fueling your insides as the whistle blew.

You ran up and down your line for nearly fifteen minutes before you finally gained possession of the ball. You were loosely marked by Guijarro beforehand, but as soon as the ball hit your feet, your legs were cut out from beneath you, leaving you tumbling face-first into the grass.

You were too high on adrenaline to feel the effects of the fall, but you felt fleeting hands sought your body when seeking to regain balance on your feet. There was a slight pang in your legs, but you quickly shook it off when offered a free kick.

“Should be a card, Ref.” One of your teammates quipped, holding your shoulders and pushing you on your way. The referee must've shooed her off too, since no acclimation changed and play resumed.

Both sides held possession well. You felt your confidence slowly increase at the endless support of the crowd. The flow of play made for excellent progress on your side of the midfield. You had curved a cross from the halfway line over to Hempo, but Ona Batlle had swiped it easily.

Georgia and Keira were absolute beasts, using their infinite knowledge to bound your team closer and closer to the goal. Spain was also moving quicker into your half as the game progressed, and the first half was coming to an end, you finally gained the opportunity to find space to shoot.

You were next to Beth, sprinting along the wing after Leah booted the ball to your end. The crowd boomed around you, your lungs gasping for air, your feet carrying you closer to the goal. Cardona was on you now, trailing your figure in the fleeting moments that felt like a lifetime.

Lauren was motioning for a crossover to her end, where no defenders thought themselves spent near. Paredes and Battle were spotting Ellen and Fran while Beth, Georgia and Keira were all making a worthy endeavour to free themselves.

Your heart raced as the wind whipped against your face, your hair whispering behind you in a tight, yet flimsy ponytail. No defenders were near the blonde. Ona and Paredes were stacking up against Ellen, while Carmona was battling Fran. Lauren was sprinting down the straight, her trajectory heading right into the box. Panos was urging her defenders back, but the communication between the two lines wasnt quick enough for your movements.

You made the move of switching the ball from your right foot to left, engulfing the fervour of the crowd as you did so. Blocking out any hesitancy, you kicked the ball as hard as you could, struggling to both watch your cross and keep straight at the same time. To your surprise, your connection with the ball made a successful thump, curving over the defenders and toward the direction of the blonde, who was almost in the box.

You watched with hope, every bone in your body ceasing up at the chance of scoring.

But before the outcome occurred, you felt your knees fall out, your legs crashing to the ground with a potent smack, leaving you winded and heaving for air. Your face made contact with the grass, your nose just skimming the ground as you made the sharp decision to move your head. For the second time that night, you heard the whistle blows to call the game to halt.

This time, however, you felt the potent emphasis of the strain on your body a lot more.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lucy’s thick accent came into range from above you, though you couldn't exactly see since your head was firm on the ground. Nothing hurtled incredibly badly, though you couldn't help but wince at the language falling from Lucy’s mouth.

While in a desperate attempt to pull yourself upwards, Keira came crouching beside you.

“Are you alright, Darling?” She asked, soothing a hand on your shoulders. Her eyes, both cautious and caring, bore into yours. You caught sight of Leah tugging Lucy away from the ref and Mapi, who was shown a yellow card.

You glanced up at the big display screens near the top of the stadium, watching in slight horror at the replay of Mapo taking you out from behind after the ball left your feet. It could've been a red card, arguably, but you were just glad you were still okay.

You told Keira so, thanking her when she pulled you up onto your feet. Lauren was watching from the other end, hauling thumps up your way, to which you promptly responded with a disappointed nod. You wished the ref had just left you on the ground because now you were going into the second half nil all.

You tried not to think about what could've been when sauntering back into the changing rooms. You were met with some encouragement. Leah was shouting all sorts of things to the team as they replenished and rejoiced for the next forty-five minutes. Rach and Millie were on either side of you, making an endeavour to be as loud and boisterous as they could in an attempt to rule everyone up. Lauren was by your side, taking prolonged sips from her water, patting you on the back throughout the break.

You watched all the girls intently while you changed your socks, tying your shoes with a double knot before following the rest of the girls out.

Before you jogged over to find your starting position, you felt someone spin you around gently.

“If that happens again,” Lucy spoke, Keira looking equally concerned by your side. “And you feel like it's too much, we want you to tell us.”

“I'm alright,” You reassured. You knew the pair believed you. This didn't soothe them, nonetheless. “I will, though. I promise.”

Before you could escape their prying eyes, Keira pulled you into a hug.

“You doing so well, Darling.” She muttered, patting your head. “Keep doing what you're doing.”

Both sides came out with a new taste of persistence. Everyone on the field was putting in ten times the effort from before. The anticipation from the crowd and determination in each of the girls’ mind combined to push the limits of the game to an all-new high.

Your hopes came crashing down when Spain’s striker, Gonzalez sent the ball through the back of the net. You threw your head back and groaned, moving your hands to cover your face. The celebration from the red rang out, their supporters in the stands properly dedicating their level of support. Your eyes met Leah, who was already marching back to her position. She gave you a civil nod. That was all. You knew she cared more for this than anything. This was the Euros.

That was enough motivation to keep going.

You tried to find more of a defensive end to your play going into the second half. Keira and Georgia were both creating chances down the line so you thought it best to keep the Spanish forwards on their toes by marking them instead of their defence.

Soon enough, Beth, Ellen, and Fran were all subbed off. You were surprised to find yourself still on the pitch. For some reason, your usual fatigue hadn't hit you yet, the endurance of beating your opponents still raw and fresh in your mind.

With Ella, Lessi and Chloe from now on, your assistance as a defensive midfielder was all the more prevalent. You made conscience tackles when needed. You pushed your opponents out of their zones, leaving them high and dry in different spots of the field. You were continuously feeding Chloe the ball from various passes, and even when some of them fell short, you made the effort to run back and do it again.

Spain must've noticed your team’s constant attacking push since strikers were being replaced for defenders, and roles were beginning to switch amidst the field.

Alex passed you the ball from between Garcia’s legs near the halfway line. You made no reluctance in sprinting down your line, taking no time in peeling the ball to your right in Chloe’s direction. The forward bolted into the centre, finding Lessi behind her. In a swift movement, Alessia found the ball at her feet, connecting a brilliant pass to Tooney.

Everyone on your backline held their breaths, awaiting the pause from Ella as she shot from where she received the ball. It went flying, flying forever, in what felt like a lifetime, before you heard the crowds rising to their feet in Revelation.

You held your arms up high, running towards the closest person, which happened to be Leah, and gripping her tight. She swung you round off the ground, yelling into your ear as the rest of your team celebrated around you.

You were one-all, you thought.

This was it.

When it went to extra time, you were almost certain you were due to be subbed off.

You had never played more than a half before. Going into over ninety minutes on the field, about to play another half hour, was daunting. You were starting to feel the dread of exhaustion pump into you when the extra time started. If you were to stay on until the end, and it was still one-all, it would go to penalties. You had only just made your Senior Debut, anyone would be stupid to think that you would ever oblige willingly to take one.

You stuck by your defensive line for the most part, only ever really leaving your back end of the midfield if you felt there was an opportunity to be given by the other end. You and Alex were pretty much feeding each other the ball if there was nothing else to give. The Spanish girls were growing impatient with it, and their relentless pushing and shoving indicated to the two of you that they were on the last thread.

You finally gave the ball to Millie, who gave it to Leah and returned back to you. For what felt like the hundredth time that game, you ran up your line, lugging the ball cautiously through the midfield. You sent a short pass to Ella, receiving the ball only a moment later. You shot past two of your opponents, glancing up to find none of your forwards free. You waited, fighting for possession for a while, before both Keira and Gee broke free from their markers. You chased them down, booting the ball to Keira.

Keira controlled the ball through the legs of Spain’s centre-back, hauling it along their backline before Gee found a space through the main slipstream. You held your breath, filling the air hitch around you in apprehension. Gee caught the ball, holding it for her side. The world seemed to stop, pause in time. You didn't remember seeing Georgia have a go at shooting, but the screams of the stadium were enough to send you tumbling towards her in a heap of sweat and tears.

You were the first to meet Georgia, jumping onto her back as the rest of your team fought themselves around her. Nothing else mattered to you at that moment, the feeling of absolute euphoria overriding any sort of anxiety you felt beforehand. All the girls were screaming, you were fighting tears. Everything was going your way, and you’d do anything to maintain it.

And that you did.

The rest of the game was defensive for you. You didn't even bother trying to connect any balls with the goal. You were too focused on any coming into your half. Lauren and Keira were subbed off, leaving no more subs available for the game. You played your heart out for the remaining time, counting down the clock for the final whistle.

When it blew, you fell to your knees.

You weren't sure if it was from the utter exhaustion of playing a hundred-and-twenty-minute game or merely because you were going through the realisation of winning. It was a surreal feeling, one you wouldn't shake for days. You stayed on the floor with your hands covering your face, hoping no one would catch the salty tears streaming down your red, tired face.

The Spaniards were all congratulating you by the end. You were quick to shake the apology Mapi Leon sent your way, blushing furiously at any sort of recognition from the defender. You ran into Leah’s arms, letting her ragdoll you around by swayying you back and forth.

“I'm so proud of you, my girl.” She muttered, kissing your forehead.

“Love you, Lee.” You simply replied, gripping her jersey tighter in your hands, relishing the moment with your eyes closed.

You were going to the Semi Finals.

__________________________

lionesses, yourusername (pretend its you)

*liked by keirawalsh, alexgreenwood and 43,256 others.

Lionesses — first full game starting AND player of the match. SAY THANK YOU BABY ENGLAND ❤️

Comments:

leahwilliamson — well deserved, beautiful girl 💗

^ yourusername — love you Lee ❤️

^ user1 — THEY ARE SO CUTE AWWWW

user2 — THANK YOU BABY ENGLAND YOU LITERALLY CARRIED US OMG

^ user3 — nah cause fr she deserved to play every minute of that game.

keirawalsh — our stargirl 💫

* liked by yourusername

georgiastanway — yeah the baby

^ yourusername — you can't call me a baby you're literally a few years older than me

^ Georgiastanway — YEAH THE BABY

arsenalacademy — congrats, baby england ❤️

^ user4 — you better start bidding for ur gurl or else she ain't gonna be yours

^ user5 — fr they think she won't leave but if a club wants to pay she’ll go where the money’s @

^ user6 — she wouldn't leave Leah. Period.

^ user7 — I doubt Leah would care where she goes, as long as shes happy.

ellatoone — lets goooooooooo

arsenalwfc — North London raised ‼️

______________________

soccerdrama

soccerdrama — after an absolute masterclass performance from Y/N L/N for the Lionesses against Spain this week, talks from multiple clubs have spurred.

These include;

- Arsenal

- Aston Villa

- North Carolina University

- Bayern Munich

- Manchester City

Where do you think she'll go?

Comments:

user1 — PLEASE SHE NEEDS TO STAY WITH LEAH ARSENAL ARSENAL ARSENAL

^ user2 — she suits nl so much

user4 — her and hemp are gold together. Would love to see them play for city together.

^ user5 — they've also git LUCY, keira, and Alex. City will be unstoppable with Y/N in it.

User8 — I still think she’ll go to UNC

_____________________________

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sgiandubh · 3 months

Text

She saw, she was first, she scored, homerun

Heh. But Marple only tells you what is convenient for her, right?

This time, I do not have the clip, like she does, simply because as I said, I could not be arsed to watch it. But a trusted friend did, all five hours of it (thank you, dear 😘😘😘😘) and sent me very decent screencaps of S + June Brunette at that tennis event. She sent them a couple of hours ago, while I was busy having a life and lunch, you know (I can prove it anytime, but will always protect my Circle of Trust). Sorry for the delay.

As you know, this blog does not believe that hiding information is the best thing to do. I never did.

Following are the screencaps I have received, in order, and with very precise comments. If anything is wrong, let it be my and her sin. But it is not and you will immediately see why.

Context: S and June Brunette's juiciest appearance in that very exposed spot of the VIP area coincided with Mansour Bahrami's match. S came first, at around 03: 04:49.

Two other people who were seated on those seats before his arrival get up and leave (perhaps prompted? perhaps uninterested in Bahrami? we can only speculate) - all this perhaps about 20 to 30 seconds before S arrives, alone:

He takes a seat and quickly arranges his jacket on his knees, perhaps sends an SMS (I am not Mrs. Graham and, unlike many other people across the street, never pretended to have infrared surveillance material):

Meanwhile, she pops in, at around 03:05:10. Unmistakably Panikian - the yellow outfit was a dead giveaway and he practically pointed when, where and for what to look, in his post: 'and of course, the legend, @mansourbahramiofficial'.

Heh: he was far from surprised and she did not chitchat at all ('is this seat taken?' etc). She just sat down: it was a very natural thing to do:

Then, he takes her in a bear hug. Kinda, sorta. Making sure they are well exposed, unlike you know, that other time:

I am told it was a matter of seconds before he wrapped his arm around her neck. Well, that is the rebuke I have been waiting for about three weeks, right?

At about 04:03:41 and until 04:10:03, she goes out, for some reason (🚹? 💄? 📳? your guess is as good as mine):

My candid question is.. who is Light Green Arrow Woman? This is the first time I see her clearly in those screenshots I (one more time, for the people in the back) have been sent by a trusted friend. Could she be a chaperone of sorts? I am told that on the video edit Marple made a modo suo, she seems to be interacting with Mrs. Panikian, but I would have to see that:

A selfie is taken, to properly document the bullshit (after she helped herself with some more champagne):

Whatever Marple calls 'quite the hug' is a kiss on the cheek, and you can see it quite clearly on her edit, if you really are freaked out by this cheap arrangement:

Prompted by the impromptu (heh) 🔦 + 🍾cocktail, she took it very seriously. A pity she did, without having the slightest idea of the strange place she landed in.

That would be it, to be honest. The pics and stills of these two individuals where he does wear a jacket, that our side published first yesterday are from the first part of the program. I do have a couple of more stills from then, but you have it all on that edit. There is no need to add more pics to it, doesn't bring anything new to the table.

And now, onwards for some more context.

Such as this post on June 13, 2024:

With this very peculiar hidden comment:

From a very peculiar sock account:

Mmmhm. Joined in June 2024, follows nobody and is followed by nobody, and yet felt the need to change the username already once? I mean, what the fuck is this cheap game, right here?

So, for those of you naive (I am elegant) enough to think this Brief Encounter was organic, think twice. Somebody followed whatever the scheming was and that somebody tried to warn the woman. Whether about the Inglorious Pap Walk or about Kissgate (the message was posted around June 15th), is to be debated. But still...

And there is some more, of course : I may not be willing to fuck my (already complicated) eyesight with edits and frames and screenshots, but I am not yet dead and I still have all my brain faculties.

Around the same time Mrs. Panikian began to be followed by S on IG, she also began to be followed by a very decent (give or take a couple of details) physical alternative to My Personal Someone. Who would kill me if he could read this post, btw. That is, if you could kill someone with cold shoulder treatment and an icy gaze (Spanish style all the way):

Quick, let's see what his Personal Life insert tells us:

I mean, D'OH: in case you wondered who the fuck that warning sock account was. NEED I DRAW IT?

Nah, can't be Margot, what were we thinking?

🙄🙄🙄

He followed her not so long ago, but well, he wasn't active since March, LOL:

And look how cute, they are fresh (?) mutuals, as of very recently/now - I might be wrong, but I don't think I am:

Tattoos, fitness venues, filthy porn bots in his 'Tagged' section, rumored to be single since at least last year. Rings a bell? Oh, surely not. Especially when you find out that this guy is also a mildly hot topic on Data Lounge (hope dies last):

Similar profiles (but Eggold is apparently a staunch Catholic - the gay conspirators grin with glee), similar PR problems. Alice to the rescue?

At any rate, she is up for grabs, people: 'looking for a man with a decent sense of humor who doesn't troll women's IG pages' - LOOOOOL. Meet the bloody OL fandom, doll - how's that for trolling? Betcha didn't see what real trolling is, yet.

On a sidenote, in an effort to leave no stones unturned, I have even looked for the edits on her Wikipedia page, until I realized they were unsubstantial and made by a clearly obsessed fan of Miss Universe contests (yeah, such people exist):

Surely enough, that user was blocked for sockpuppetry, which means 'abusing multiple accounts'. But Panikian was not her main obsession and for once, this has nothing to do with the current cheapo story that they try to peddle us. Whoever 'they' are.

That's all for now, ladies. Thanks to all three of you who sent tips and raw info for me to connect. You are wonderful!

It's going to be an interesting summer, for sure.

Ship on, ladies, still the same old, tired, boring BS. But also an interestingly symmetrical rebuke to TS Kissgate - if only...

#fandom #shitshow #June Brunette

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tinywitchgoblin · 5 months

Text

Birthday Girl

Crosshair x afab!reader (one use of she/her pronouns)

Summary: Crosshair wants to make your birthday especially memorable.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: SMUT, minors dni or I will hit you with my bonk stick; squirting, spanking, overstimulation, reader has a praise kink, use of a pet name (kitten), oral (fem!receiving), piv sex (wrap it up in real life y’all), I feel like Crosshair being Crosshair also counts as a warning?

a/n: my birthday is here, so have some self-indulgent birthday smut with tbb tumblr’s favorite poor little meow meow. Also, I did my best to write this so it could be interpreted with him either having both of his hands or just the one, however you choose to read it.

This was the first birthday you celebrated since getting with Crosshair, and he was determined to make it special. You woke up to an empty bed, which upset you at first, but once you smelled breakfast being made in the kitchen, you knew you were in for a good day.

Sliding out of bed, you stretched, waking up your tired body. Walking into the kitchen, you looked over towards the stove and saw your boyfriend scrambling some eggs with his back facing you. You walked over to him and hugged him from behind, kissing his neck.

“Well, someone’s getting a late start this morning,” Crosshair teased, turning his head and returning your kiss.

“Considering what day it is, I think I have the right to sleep in as much as I want,” you asserted, smiling before kissing his neck one last time and moving towards the cupboard to get some dishes to set the table.

“I don’t think so. Sit down and let me do the work. Like you said, it’s a special day,” he smirked, turning towards you and letting you see…

“Kiss the cook?!” you exclaimed, laughing and leaning against the counter. Crosshair had donned a bright pink apron with those words emblazoned across the front in sequins.

“What, you don’t like it?” he asked, acting mock offended and putting his hand to his chest.

“It’s certainly… entertaining,” you chuckled, moving over to the stove to pour yourself a cup of tea. To your surprise, he didn’t move to stop you, but he kept an eye on you to make sure you didn’t try to do anything else while he finished the cooking. He set the table before bringing the food over and placing that on the table as well.

“Cross, in all seriousness, this looks so good! I really appreciate all of this,” you fawned. He didn’t cook that much, but when he did, you enjoyed every bit of it.

“Today is about you, and I wanted to make sure the day started off right,” he assured. Without another word, you both tucked into the food, saying little but enjoying the time together nonetheless. Once breakfast was finished, Crosshair cleaned up, once again ensuring that you didn’t do any more work than you absolutely needed to. When that was done, you both got ready for the day, and Crosshair implemented the next step of his little plan.

He’d planned the whole day out to a t, wanting to get in as many of your favorite activities as possible without it being overwhelming or tiresome. First, he took you for a stroll through one of your favorite markets, buying you a plant you’d had your eyes on for a while now. Next was a picnic on the beach, watching the waves join calmly with the shore before slowly receding back into the ocean. After that, he took you on a hike along one of your favorite trails. That reminded you of your first date, when he’d taken you on that very same hike. You looked back on the memory with fondness.

As the day started to fade, he took you to your next destination: dinner with his family. When you walked in the door, Wrecker pulled you into a big bear hug, wishing you a happy birthday. As you continued into the house, Omega popped out as well.

“Happy birthday, y/n!” she exclaimed.

“Thanks, bud! How’re you doing?” you smiled.

“Good! I wanted to come see you earlier, but Crosshair was very specific about how he wanted your birthday to go. He wouldn’t shut up about how he wanted everything to be perfect and he loves you so much and-”

“Okay, I think that’s enough from you,” Crosshair interrupted, ruffling his sister’s hair.

“Well, little brother, I just wanted to let y/n know why I didn’t see her earlier today.” She turned to you before adding, “It was the most I’d ever heard him talk in one sitting.”

“Omega, be nice,” Hunter chided from his spot in the sitting room. He stood up and walked over to you, wishing you a happy birthday and pulling you into a quick hug before getting a glare from Crosshair. “Smells like dinner is almost ready, and I’m sure none of us would want to be late for that; otherwise, Wrecker might eat it all.”

“I heard that,” Wrecker called from his place in the kitchen. “But yeah, dinner’s ready!”

You all moved into the kitchen and sat around the table. You saw he’d made one of Gregor’s recipes- one you’d mentioned in passing about wanting to have again after he’d made it for you and the others once. Everyone ate their fill; even Wrecker was full by the end of it. This was followed up by some cake, and once you blew out the candles, that was devoured, too.

After dinner was done, everyone moved back into the sitting room and gave you their gifts. Hunter gave you a wooden carving of a plant leaf, knowing how much you liked plants. Wrecker gave you a tin of your favorite sweets to take home (“and make sure Crosshair doesn’t get into them”, queuing another glare). Omega gave you a painting she’d done of you and the boys, plus Batcher. Speaking of Batcher, she didn’t really have a gift, but she gave you lots of love all the same.

Once everything was done, you bid everyone a good night, and you and Crosshair went back home. Opening the door, he said, “Go wait in the bedroom. I have a surprise for you.” You could see the twinkle in his eyes, and knew he had something special in store for you. He sat down on the bed and handed you a box. “Open it,” he urged, and you did. You pulled out a beautiful set of lingerie in your favorite color, and it was soft and enticing.

“I think I got the size right, but if not, I’m sure we can figure out what fits,” he shrugged.

“Only one way to find out,” you smiled, heading into the fresher to put it on. Crosshair had no reason to worry- it fit perfectly. You waltzed out, leaning against the wall, asking, “Well? How do I look?”

He stared at you in awe for a moment before responding, “Absolutely stunning.” You blushed before making your way over to him, plopping yourself in his lap. He pulled you into his arms, finding your lips and kissing you lovingly. Sure, he was being gentle now, but you knew that was about to change. As you’d predicted, his kisses got needier and hungrier, grasping at whatever body parts he could reach. Eventually landing on your ass, he gave you a tight squeeze, drawing a moan out of you. You knew that his favorite part of your body was your ass, and you had no objections to the love he showed it- and the rest of your body.

“I have a challenge for you, if you think you’re up for it,” he said breathlessly, pulling away from your lips.

“And what would that be?” you questioned, running your fingers through his short silvery hair.

“One spanking for each year of your age,” Crosshair smirked. “And you have to count them out loud. After that… you decide. And you need to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

“Why do I get the feeling that this is as much a gift for you as it is for me?” you teased. “But either way, I accept. How do you want me?”

“You know how I want you,” he murmured, a darkness coming over his eyes. He sat back so you could lay stomach down on his lap, resting your head on the comforter. Rubbing a hand against the swell of your ass, he asked, “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes, I want this, please,” you begged, already getting desperate and grinding your hips against his lap in an attempt to get some friction against the heat pooling between your legs. His hand came down, the smack ringing throughout the room. “One,” you counted, though it came out as more of a moan than an actual word.

“Well done, kitten,” Crosshair praised, bringing his hand down again.

“Two,” you breathed. This is going to be more difficult than I thought it would be, you thought to yourself. He kept going, and you kept counting, but as you continued, it became harder for you to concentrate on counting. When you got to eighteen, he had to prompt you to keep counting. “Remember, kitten? I said you had to count each one out loud. You haven’t already forgotten, have you?” he teased.

“Eighteen,” you responded, barely more than a whisper. He kept going, prompting you twice more before you finished the set. By that point, you were a whimpering mess, ass red with handprints and wetness flooding the little bit of cloth covering your pussy. He helped you off of his lap, laying you down on the bed. Crosshair climbed on top of you, kissing you and praising, “Well done, y/n. I’m so proud of you.” Your only response was a moan into his mouth as he leaned down and claimed your mouth, dominating the kiss and leaving you even more breathless.

“Now, do you remember what comes next?” he asked.

“Me, hopefully,” you joked.

“Yes, but you have to tell me exactly what you want. And I mean exactly. I won’t do anything you don’t tell me to do. Use me as you see fit,” demanded. You lay there, with him laying kisses on your neck before you responded, “I want your mouth.”

“Where, kitten?” he prompted. Again, it took you a bit to respond.

“On my pussy,” you breathed.

“As you wish,” Crosshair smiled, traveling down your body, moving the lingerie to the side, and placing his lips right above your wetness. “Now, what should I do with my mouth on your pussy?”

“Eat me out,” you whined. He finally acquiesced, setting to work. Your hips jolted against his face, rutting against him, your body begging for more.

“More.” He obeyed, giving more stimulation. At this point, you had a hand on the back of his head, pushing him even further into your pussy.

“Add a finger.” Smirking, he slid a slender finger inside you, earning a drawn-out moan. However, once the finger was inside, he kept it still. Apparently, he wanted you to be more specific.

“Finger me, please,” you begged, and once he started curling his finger against your g-spot. You were trembling, getting closer to the precipice by the second.

“Another finger,” you gasped, “and keep fingering me.” Another finger joined the first, and that was all it took. You felt your body seize up, climbing higher and higher before it all broke. You felt as if every nerve in your body had been set on fire, your very being burning with pleasure. However, even as you descended into oversensitivity, Crosshair didn’t stop. Continuing to wring pleasure out of your body, all you could do was lay there, taking what he gave you. As he continued, you felt a new sensation bubbling inside of you, and when you came again, the dam burst. Crosshair’s face became drenched as you squirted, pulling even more pleasure out of you than you ever thought possible. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore, and you pushed him away, begging him to stop.

After letting you take a minute for your mind to return to your body, he chuckled, “Well, I’ve never seen you do that before.”

“I didn’t know I had it in me,” you panted, still coming down from your high. Crosshair crawled up your body, littering kisses along the way. “You really did mean specific, huh?”

“Of course I did,” he laughed. “What would you like next?”

Looking deep into his lust-blown eyes, your next two words had him burning: “Fuck me.”

He tore his now-wet clothing off, along with gently removing the lingerie from your body. He flipped you over, pressing your body into the mattress before sliding into you. Once he made sure you weren’t in pain, he pulled out and slammed back in, hitting every single part inside of you that only he could reach. He was big, and he knew how to use it. He plowed into you, fucking you right into the mattress. You could hardly breathe, but that was the furthest thing from your mind. All you could focus on was the feeling of him ramming into you, surely leaving bruises he’d admire in the morning. Sex with Crosshair was always amazing, but tonight was something else entirely. Knowing that he took so much pleasure in pleasing you, in giving you exactly what you wanted, made it that much better. Once again, you felt the knot in your stomach begin to tighten.

“Getting close, kitten?” Crosshair grunted in between thrusts, and all you could do was nod. Sliding a hand underneath you, he circled two dexterous fingers on your clit, and before long, you came undone again. He continued, chasing his own high as you writhed underneath him. After a few more thrusts, he buried himself inside you, finishing inside your tight, wet heat. He held you tight to him, rolling the two of you onto your sides. Running a hand up your side, you lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow.

Eventually, Crosshair slowly pulled out, placing a kiss to the side of your head before getting up to grab some water and a small snack. You always got the munchies after sex, especially intense sex like this. He also grabbed a damp cloth to clean your body with and a spare set of bedding so that neither of you had to sleep on a wet patch.

Once you were cleaned up and he had changed the bedding, the two of you cuddled in the bed, with him on his back and you curled into his side. “Thank you… for all of this. It means so much to me, and I love you so much,” you murmured.

“I love you too, y/n,” he responded, laying one more kiss on your forehead before you drifted off to sleep, him not far behind. He was certainly successful in his mission; you would remember this birthday for a long time.

Thanks for reading! If you want to check out some of my other stuff, check out my masterlist, and don't forget to reblog 💚

#the bad bois #the bad batch #crosshair bad batch #crosswhore #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair smut #crosshair #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #crosshair tbb #tbb crosshair #crosshair the bad batch

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chaoticloving · 2 years

Note

Hello! hope youre doing good!! I was wondering if you could write something about how Harry and Y/n just had to leave each other for work and Harry has an interview the next day and he's a little grumpy?? love SOH so much!!

Management

harry styles x reader (soh masterlist)

summary: harry wants to get back at one of his managers for what he said about his relationship with y/n, which makes for an interesting interview.

warnings: heavy allusions to sex, slut-shaming, and just lhh being the best protective bf ever

a/n: may have taken a bit further than grumpy…love lhh <3

The hotel was perfect: isolated, glamorous, and private. That’s why it was every celebrity’s dream. But to Y/n and Harry, it was their relationship’s paradise.

Y/n had a series of interviews lined up in Montreal and Harry just so happened to be able to fake sick long enough for the Montreal radio interview to be pushed back to an incredible two days. Two days was a lot for them, normally they’d have a phone call, a couple of hours, or even a day if lucky. But two days ment that they could spend the night together, and because One direction flew in on the red eye flight, they could get two.

When Harry checked in with the rest of the band, he went straight to his room, changed to pajamas and a sweatshirt with a hood, and left to room 2089, her room.

Harry got a little queezy on the trip up; his fear of heights combined with his lack of sleep and flying sickness didn’t make for a great combo. He just really needed some sleep.

He sprinted through the halls, knocked on the door, than yanked into the room by the only person he would want to yank him like that.

Y/n pushed him up against the closed door and kissed him. It was definitely messy—it was pass midnight and they’ve both been working, so who could blame them—but perfect for them.

“Darling I love your lips so much but I’m so tired I’m gonna need you to carry be to the bed.” Harry begged. “Need y’a to lift me up bridal style.”

“Mm, think you’ll have to carry me—“ Harry dropped his head so it was on her shoulder, grunting slightly. “—Or we can awkwardly waddle to the bed.”

They collapsed onto the bed, held in each others arms with sleep encompassing the couple right away. Harry was bear-hugging Y/n, practically turning into a blanket with the only goal of supplying her warmth. Y/n was happily hugging and subconsciously combing his long, unruly hair while they slept.

The work day started at 9 am. They haven’t seen each other much, but took comfort in the fact they could at least get mindnight to 9 together. Harry was receiving his goodbye kiss soon enough, though. It wasn’t a total loss; Harry got more kisses in the shower and showed Y/n exactly how much he missed her.

Harry was adjusting his pajama shorts as he was reluctantly pushed out of her room and raced to the elevator, making sure he didn’t give a surprise show to any of the guests in the hotel. He was alone in the elevator and ran into no one as he unlocked the door to him room.

He closed the door behind him and sighed, that is until he got spooked by some familiar faces.

“You could’ve let us know you got a booty call before we decided to have a 8am meeting, Styles.” Lenard, one of the many One Direction managers, yelled.

Among him was his mates, Niall, Liam, and Louis. All had their head down and a sorry look at Harry.

“I was only gone for a night.” Harry defended. “Still in the hotel-“

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, boy.” The grouchy man replied. “As punishment, you are on backups for the radio performance-”

“What?!”

“You heard me.” Lenard boomed. He turned to the other singers. “Take this as a warning boys. You’re all excused.” The other boys gave a sorry look to Harry, patting his shoulder, giving a nod, but they all could see was how pissed off Harry had become.

When the door shut, and it was just the two of them, Lenard got back on his bullshit again. “If your main concern is meeting with some girl willing to put herself out-“

“That’s unfair! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Harry yelled back. “I am not just sleeping around, I just missed my girlfriend.”

“Oh right, your girlfriend Y/n, the one who sleeps to get roles” Lenard snickered.

“That is not true you asshole!”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself.” Lenard spoke. Lenard knew fully well who Y/n is, she was the reason Harry wasn’t willing to go into PR relationships with other celebrities. Harry was the most marketable members of One Direction, and Lenard wanted to make sure he could do the most so he could get a raise in his salary.

“You’re more than welcome to fuck around with some other girls. That Jenner one—“

“I already said no, Lenard!” Harry seethed. “I’m sick of all your controlling nagging! I’m singing and dancing my ass off and putting all my work into this and all you can do is complain that I miss one of your surprise meetings!”

Lenard didn’t know what to say, or quite frankly, didn’t care, so he ignored Harry. “You’ll be on closer watch. I will make sure to tell security to never let you out of their sight.”

“That’s unfair-“

“Quiet or you’ll be on backups the rest of tour.” Lenard threatened.

“You can’t do that! I’m half the show!” Harry fought back. “You know the show won’t be any good if I’m on backups.”

“Just clean yourself up and wear what you are suppose to. Downstairs in thirty.”

Lenard walked out, slamming the door behind him. Not letting Harry get a word in.

During the whole interview, Harry had on a fake smile. He was glad Y/n taught him how to make a fake smile look more believable, because all he could see was red.

Ever since Zayn left, One direction management had tighten its claws onto the remaining members. Wanting to make the boys sign a new contract, locking in the boys practically permanently. Y/n, like always, came in a clutch when she prevented Harry from signing and got Harry to get a lawyer that wasn’t connect to 1D, providing her own. With this new lawyer, Harry was able to prevent permanent control, letting him drop when he needed; which only caused more chaos in the group.

As sad as he was for his friend for leaving the band, he understood were Zayn came from. Privacy, independence, freedom, that’s all he wanted.

“Harry you’ve been quiet here today, what’s on your mind.” The interviewer asked.

An idea came to Harry: subtly piss off management. His fake smile turned into a smirk.

“I’m thinking about a shag a recently had.” Harry replied.

“A shag?”

“A shag.” He said bluntly. “Now I got this song idea in my head.”

“How interesting.” The interviewing commented, trying to find an interesting yet pg way to spin this, yet all Harry could focus on was the middle aged men in suits on the other side of glass, all glaring at Harry, roaring up to end this.

“Anyone in particular?”

“According to public opinion, I can only ever write songs about one girl, so everyone can go figure who I’d sleep with.”

One of the managers banged on the window. Everyone looked up as he made a wrapping up sign with his hand. Harry smiled, proud of himself.

“Well, that’s One Direction for you folks…”

“That bloody fucker—“

“Hey, hey, hey.” One of the other managers, an older rich guy by the name of Vincent—the most tolerable out of the bunch, calmed Lenard down.

“He just ruined that interview! We’re going to have a weeks worth of bad press!”

“I already contacted them and they agreed to cuts Harry’s part…”

The voices trailed off as Harry snuck out of the group and into an elevator at the hotel, he made eye contact with one of the members of security but the man, Paul, had a soft spot for young love and simply looked away.

Harry pressed button twenty and the doors quickly shut, the elevator starting its climb to the high floor. He raced to Y/n’s room as the doors opened and rapidly knocked on her door.

“It’s me!” He yelled, knowing a crazy fan would knock the same way he was.

The door swung open and Y/n was met with a sad tall man, so genuinely looked like he needed a hug.

“Harry?” She ushered him inside, locking the door and pulling him in for a hug. “What happened?”

“Management.” Harry sighed. “I got yelled at for not being in my room because apparently there was an impromptu meeting this morning. Then I kinda implied we were together to stick it to him during the interview and said i was writing a song about us having sex and now he’s pissed and I’m so so sorry.”

Y/n broke apart from Harry’s tight hug, pulling back to get a look at the man, once boy, that was apologizing for standing up for himself. She couldn’t believe it. Against Lenard too, which makes Harry’s actions much more valid.

She stroked his cheek, looking into his green eyes that had a tinge of red from tears of anger forming in his eyes. “Hey if it’s to stick it to that Lenard then I’ll release our sex tape if it mean he’d quit and leave us alone.” Y/n joked, causing Harry to let out a much needed sigh of laughter.

“He’d probably drop me after that.”

“Yeah but he’d be jealous.” Harry smiled again, looking at the love of his life. He hand traced her jaw, and thumb traced her lip.

Harry nodded agreeing with the plan, until his face quickly went sour. “But my mum would kill me—god.” Y/n giggled as Harry look deeply annoyed.

“I think it’s time.” Harry’s decided, taking a deep breath before he continued. “I think I’ll bring it up with the others.”

“Really?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah. Lenard has already threatened to make me back up and he said some stuff about you-“ He took a deep breath. “I think I could do better on my own, with my own team. People who don’t care if I sleep with you, or sing about sex.” Harry chuckled, leaning into the fantasy.

“Oh yeah? And how would this sex song go?”

“Hmm.” Harry thought, before singing a jingle of a tune. “I just want to taste it.”

“Haha. You’re funny.” She chided. “Remember to never let your dick do the writing here.”

“Maybe writing about sex is a bit too much. Even for me.” Harry thought. “He would make it way to rude for public radio.”

“He?”

“Yeah my dick, Ed.” Harry teased. “You want to meet him again?”

“Wait Ed like Edward, your middle name?”

“Yeah and Ward is the name of my bonus nipple—“

“I think it’s time for bed.” Y/n interrupted. “You need sleep.”

Harry nodded and followed her lead, stripping himself until he was left in his boxers and she was in her bra and panties. Sex definitely was not on the menu tonight, but they both were a sucker to intimacy and body warmth.

“I’m flying out tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t remind me.” Harry groaned.

“I was thinking, you come with me.” Y/n asked.

“You mean I should skip interviews tomorrow?”

“You have sick days you’re entitled to.” Y/n reminded him, booping his nose. “They can’t sue you for catching a cold. And you definitely look sick in my expert opinion.”

“I guess I’ll take your word for it.” Harry snuggled closer. “Where are we going then?”

“Plane goes to England. Maybe see your mum and then leave to Italy?”

“That sounds so perfect.” Harry sighed, knowing that honestly sounds amazing. “I love you.” He kissed her face, sprinkling them all over her face. “So much.”

“I already said I love you. Don’t make me regret that." Y/n said, sleep taking over her voice. “Goodnight Harry.”

“Night, love.”

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maidragoste · 2 years

Text

Another Man

Summary: Harwin discovers that there is another man in your life.

part 2 of this.

part 3

I'm just going to say that I don't regret anything and that I have many ideas to continue writing to this MC and her lovers 🥰💖

comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🥰💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Harwin misses you. He misses your smiles, your kisses, your hugs, he misses how you took care of him every time he came back hurt or tired of his guards, he misses the talks until dawn, he misses waking up by your side.

Since Jacaerys's birth, the only thing he received from you was silent treatment and hateful looks every time they were alone. You had kicked him out of your chambers so he now slept alone but from time to time you made him spend the night with you just so as not to arouse more suspicion at court.

The first time you called him Harwin he had felt so hopeful thinking that your love for him was great enough to forgive him and give him another chance. He believed that your invitation to your chambers was the first step in making things right. He was disappointed and heartbroken when you didn't even greet him when he entered your chambers, all you told him, or rather ordered him, was that he come to your quarters every ten days. Before you sleep you always put pillows between the two of you. Sometimes he took advantage of your deep sleep to move the pillows and hug you, pretending that everything was fine between the two of you and that you still loved him.

Today marks ten days since he last came to your chambers. Despite your silent treatment, he was eager to go, it always calmed him down to see you sleep and he could hug you without you wanting to kill him, so he didn't even bother to knock on the door and went directly to your chambers. His anxiety turned into concern when he saw that the maester was with you.

"What happened?" he came quickly to your side. He didn't see that you had any wounds or cuts or that you were bleeding so he hoped that whatever your ailment was it wasn't something serious.

"Nothing to worry about, Lord Strong, I was just bringing your wife some tea to calm her nausea."

"Nausea? Are you sick?"

"Thank you for your help, maester" you nodded and waited for him to leave to answer your husband "I'm pregnant"

Harwin felt as if you had plunged a knife into his heart. Is that how you felt when you looked at Jaceaerys and realized that it was his son? Did you feel this pain when he confessed to you that he loves Rhaenyra too? He deserved to feel the same pain he caused you. He had been the first to break your heart by falling in love with the princess and getting into her bed. He was the one who ruined your marriage and lost your trust and love. He had no right to feel angry or betrayed. He had only caused all of this. If he had only been brave enough to talk to you earlier about his feelings for Rhaenyra, if only he had been honest with you, maybe they would have come to some kind of agreement, and maybe things would be better than they are now. Maybe he wouldn't have lost you.

You had already told him that he had lost you but he acted as if he had never heard those words and he hope that by some miracle you will forgive him. Now that you were carrying another man's child, he could see that you were serious.

Harwin wanted to ask you who you slept with and if you loved your new lover but he felt he had no right to know, but he didn't want to know either, he couldn't bear to hear that your heart now belonged to someone else. He preferred to believe that you had only let another man into your bed in revenge, that this was all about hurting him the same way he hurt you, and that there was no feeling involved.

"You can stop coming when I'm five months pregnant." You informed him as if he were a worker that you won't need his services anymore "If someone asks, I'll just say that the maester recommended we not share a bed until the baby is born" you took the cup of tea and walked away from him.

That night Harwin didn't move the pillows nor did he hug you while you slept. He couldn't even bear to stay in your bed all night and know that someone else was in the same place as him, he couldn't stop thinking about scenarios of you with your unknown lover.

•••••

The guard saw you and instantly turned away from the door knowing that the queen was already waiting for you. It wasn't a secret that you spent most of your time with her and her children.

"Sorry for being late" you apologized entering the room and interrupting the conversation between Larys and Alicent, first you approached her to give her a short kiss, you smiled at her when you saw her blush and then you went to kiss Larys "Your son doesn't wanted to get away from Sunfyre so it took me longer than expected to take him to his lessons with the maester," you said as you sat between the two of them, the affection you had for the prince in your voice.

“About Sunfyre…

You knew that tone in Alicent, she was worried and you knew why, you three had already had this conversation more than once. Ever since she found out you were pregnant she didn't want you to spend time in Dragon's Pit. She was afraid that one day one of the guards would come to tell her that one of those beasts had attacked you. You got tired of repeating to her that this would not happen.

You looked at Larys. You could tell from the boredom on his face that they were also talking about it before you got there.

“Aegon has to learn to care for and bond with his dragon. If his father doesn't bother to teach her then someone has to do it” you interrupted her and began to cut your meat with more force than necessary. Every time you think of Viserys you feel anger for the little attention she gave to her children but of course, he had time and attention for Rhaenyra's bastard. "A dragon would never harm its rider"

"But what about you? You are not its rider. It is dangerous. Especially in your condition” Alicent looked at you anguished. She didn't want anything to happen to you. King's Landing without you would be hell. You are the person she trusts the most. It hadn't been Alicent's intention to cling to you. But you're the only person who really cares for her, for Alicent Hightower, and not for the queen.

It all started when her engagement to Viserys was announced, Rhaenyra began to hate her and pushed her away. She thought you would support the princess and do the same. She was surprised that you stayed by her side and listened to her, you didn't call her a liar when she told you that she only did what her father ordered, instead you guiltily confessed that you were also in her position and that you believed that Viserys didn't choose you because you admitted to him that you were in love with Harwin Strong.

Alicent looked so lonely and sad without Rhaenyra. You didn't know if it was the guilt you carried thinking you should be taking Alicent's place but you started spending time with her. The first time you found her in the weirwood you pretended it was a coincidence, the second time you admitted you were looking for her on purpose, after the third time it became a routine to meet there at the same time. One day Alicent woke up and the first thing she thought about was that she longed for the time to come so she could see you. Every time she was with you she felt calm, she wasn't nervous thinking about what role she should be playing or thinking if she said the wrong thing she would push you away.

"Sunfyre won't do anything to me unless I hurt Aegon, which I never will" you took the queen's hand and gave it a squeeze "So you have nothing to worry about" you kissed her knuckles. "Now can we continue eating or is there something else to discuss?”

"Harwin was seen sneaking into the princess's chambers again," Larys informed you, and he carefully appraised you looking for any trace of sadness or disappointment in your eyes. He was satisfied to find none of it. The truth was that He hadn't believed that you had completely overcome your feelings for his brother, but it was more than clear from your face that you no longer cared what Harwin did.

"I'm not surprised, considering that I told him about my pregnancy last night," you admitted stroking your stomach with your free hand. "I don't care what Harwin does anyway because I have both of you" you smiled and Alicent felt her heart rise. She loved you so much and she was happy that her feelings were finally reciprocated. She shouldn't be happy that Harwin cheated on you but if it wasn't for your husband's infidelity then you wouldn't be with her and Larys now.

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skxllz · 1 year

Text

“ I wan’ ‘at, ” paul speaks in a muffled manner while pressing his face up against the finger-printed glass of the claw machine. he spotted a stuffed animal he thought was cool as fuck, man! —his own words— and now wanted it.

“ hm? ” maneuvering the dum-dum around that you had in your mouth, you pause your walking beside the blonde and peaked through the glass as well; eyeing the certain object your boyfriend wanted.

It was a light blue, fluffy teddy bear holding a sign that said ‘ you rock! ’ with a little guitar strapped to it's back. of course paul would enjoy that stuffed animal out of all of the others in the machine.

trifling through the pocket of your jeans, you dig around the loose change you always carried, searching for a quarter to place into the slot. you damn near gave up after a minute of not feeling even one bigger coin, but then- your fingers brushed against the rough rim of silver. you felt it up, definitely identifying it as a quarter, before pulling it from your pocket.

“ s’cuse me, paulie. ” you politely squeezed your way between your boyfriend and the machine, only for paul to move back with curiosity now crept onto his face.

“ whatcha’ doin’? ” his questioned, looking over your shoulder much like an innocent little kid.

“ playin’ the game... ” you mumbled in reply, sliding the coin into the slot. you watched as the little red screen on the front of the machine lit up with how many tries you got —two— before the claw jerked forward, indicating you were set to play.

paul gasped in star-gazing excitement - which you gave a sideway smiles to, before wrapping your fingers around the joystick and setting your focus on the claw at hand.

tilting the stick to the left, you watched as the claw glided towards the small bear. “ get it, get it- ” paul was chanting under his breath while watching the claw. the light from machine was reflecting off his blue eyes, making a ring wthin his pretty irises.

“ I will, ” you smiled to yourself, slowing down just as it guided over the bear. jerking it to the right just a bit, you made sure the claw was dead center, before pressing down onto the button. It made a clicking noise, before the claw slowly extended downwards and the metal brackets stretched out.

perfectly, the claw wrapped around the bears head and picked it up. you were nervous at first because you knew how cheap the claws in these games were, never wanting to hold the stuffed animal up right, but those anxieties melted away once you saw the animal being dragged over to the slot and was dropped in.

you bent down and retrieved the stuffed bear from the captivity.

“ here y’go, paulie. ” you clutched the bear in your palms while turning around, only to stretch your arms out towards him; offering him the soft object.

paul had sparkles in his eyes as he took it, “ oh my god! ” he yelled happily, hugging it to his chest. he looked like an excited toddler that just received a new toy. “ it's fuckin’ adorable, babe! thank you! ”

grinning, you gave a small shrug. “ s’nothin’. ”

“ nothing?! ” he looked at you, eyes wide in mock offense. “ it's everything! ”

paul grabs you with one arm suddenly, tugging you close to bury your face into his pectoral. you could smell the musk of his cheap cologne and the giant scent of salt water from the ocean. “ thank you, ” his voice was softer now. “ I mean it. I love you, dollface. ”

you grinned, pressing a kiss to his chest. “ I love you, too. ”

#paul tlb #paul the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #paul the lost boys x reader #the lost boys

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nrdmssgs · 5 months

Text

Constellation

Masterlist Fluff mostly Pairing: PriceXReaderXNikolai Summary: Cuddles and make out session. AN: My periods wrote this.

“It's alright.” Johns fingers graze lightly down your shoulder.

“We are fine. We are here, together. You are safe, little star.” Nik's warm breath tickles the back of your neck.

But you can't stop the tears. A wet spot on Price's pillow grows wider under your cheek. John cups your face and guides you to look up at him. His gaze meets your tired red eyes and he sighs ruefully. John brings you closer in kisses your forehead, glancing at Nikolai.

There are many things in your decade long friendship that could have made others uncomfortable in your place. Others, but not you, John and Nikolai. You wouldn't let anything ruin the most treasured thing you have - this friendship. So forehead kisses are fine, ‘this reminds me of you’ photos of beautiful things are fine, dancing in the kitchen while you three are cooking is fine. Letters, that you receive from them from all over the world, ‘just because’ flowers, surprise hugs from behind - it's all fine. These things won't ever hurt your friendship.

Even falling for both of them slowly and inevitably won't do so. As long as you keep it to yourself. Which is not the easiest thing to hide, when you find out, John came back from a deployment injured.

A friend might have made sure, Price is actually doing fine and just needs a few days of bed rest, and visited him with a care package. A girl, who was desperately in love, came to him as soon as her working day was over and cried ugly, curled up next to him. You started calming down only when Nikolai came, climbed on his friend's bed and scooped you in a tight hug.

And so you three are lying: Nik's arms around your waist, your face in Price's hands. Time to time, one of them half whispers something soft to you. And with each ‘we are fine’, ‘you are safe’, ‘It's going to be alright’ you return to normal little by little.

It's their voices working their magic on you. Husky, low, rich and warm tones. If only these men knew, what can they do to you just with a short whisper. Sure they calm you down now, but they can drive you crazy as well, lead your mind to the places, you're too ashamed to acknowledge.

John wipes away your tears with his wide warm thumbs, Nikolai hums a melody over your ear. You remember it vaguely. Something in Russian. Something about a star, that he begs to shine on no matter what. It's not a lullaby, but always brings you peace and he remembers it.

They distract you: telling you little silly stories about their deployments, arguing, jokingly grumbling at each other. You even start laughing. Then Nikolai brings tea for you and meds for John. Price immediately puts on his most suffering and dissatisfied expression, and you with Nik barely hold back the laughter.

You try a good dozen of ways to convince Price to behave like a grown up and just swallow all his pills finally. Everything from plain flattery to threats is thrown at the grumpy man. And then you resort to bargaining.

“Eat your meds now, and I will kiss you.” You laugh. Nikolai chuckles.

But John looks serious.

He scoops all the remaining meds and throws them into his mouth, topping it up with the remaining water. All not breaking an eye contact with you.

“Done.” After one Price's word, the room falls silent.

It's only then, when your own word sink in. You promised him what once again? Unable to bear his gaze, you hide your eyes, looking down his wide neck, to the concave, the point, where the outlines of his muscular chest begin to show.

This neck is made for grabbing onto it in search for a stabilizing point, while this man is…

Your face is burning. It's hot, suffocating hot in here. Not just because the man, you've been dreaming to kiss, waits for your touch, but also because the other man, you've been dreaming to kiss is burning your back with his gaze.

John doesn't move closer, since the distance between you two is already almost non-existent. He would never force you. But he doesn't move away either.

And your wildest hopes and dreams are screaming, that's because he wants this. But you would rather die than do anything stupid and lose Johns and Nikolai's friendship.

You stretch your arm and touch his cheek, moving to his eye level. It's not that easy, giving the fact, that you have to balance on a pile of soft bed covers between two men, pushing the mattress down to both sides around you just with their weight.

You frantically plan how to turn this all into a joke, when you feel it. Very soft, but absolutely intentional. A push right between your shoulder blades. You lose your balance and fall forward.

The world around you cuts out, when your lips meet. First you feel his warmth engulfing and penetrating you at the same time. Then you hear him breathing you in. You don't move - it is enough for you just lay like this next to him, lips pressed to his as he takes another deep breath in, steadying himself.

You drown in a mix of scents: Johns aftershave, a hint of Niks cologne, cigar smoke and a light musk, almost disappearing, but still daring, seducing. It takes you some time to force yourself to move back. Not far - just a few centimeters, so that when John speaks again - his hot breath rolls down your lips.

“Wait.” John's hands gather your small frame and bring you back.

The second kiss is so much more. There is a lot of holding back, but behind it all you feel a need, a borderline desperation in every motion. Every time his lips catch yours in another intoxicating touch - you feel a promise.

A promise of so much more to come, if you just let him closer, if you trust him enough. But when his tongue leaves a short warm wet trail between your lips - you forget even about the promises, his body gives you. John Price doesn't taste like a black tea, smoke and meds - he tastes like the end of you. And such a beverage is better savored in little sips, so it doesn't go out in a second.

You make an incredible effort to stifle the groan that is tearing out. Your breathing is labored, your cheeks are burning with heat. But all that matters right now: John's lips on yours, his hands pulling you closer by your waist... and another hand gently brushing the hair off your shoulder, exposing the back of your neck.

This feeling paralyzes you, like a lightning, rolling down your spine, echoing in every single nerve. Nikolai. The one to turn you into an absolute mess with just one touch. You are afraid to admit, how good his touch feels, when you're kissing John. It simultaneously soothes and provokes you. John touches your lips once again, and you open your mouth wide enough to let his tongue slip deeper.

This time you both can't hold back your quiet moan and his velvety growl. But your mind slowly comes back to the point, where you can draw a connection between kissing one of your best friends and losing both of your best friends.

You pull away. Panting, you manage to muster only one word. For John, for Nikolai, for yourself.

“I'm sorry.”

“What's wrong, little star?” Nik presses his broad chest against your back, and you immediately feel small and helpless.

“We overstepped?” John lets go of your waist, giving you full freedom of movement.

Did he just say ‘we’?

You look him in the eyes, the most beautiful blue eyes, the universe could ever create, and feel so deeply ashamed, it makes you want to die right here and now. You love John, deeply and dearly, but…

“Talk to me, little star.”

There it is. The “but”. It's not Nikolai's fault, you love him as madly as John. There must be something wrong with you, because this kiss, you've been dreaming of for so long, still feels incomplete. And it won't feel complete until you feel Niks lips just as you felt Johns.

“I'm sorry, I should have…” You can't even muster a coherent answer as you feel a heavy lump, coming up your throat and stinging your eyes. You can't even explain to them, how deeply fucked are you.

“No-no-no, what's with the horrified eyes, zvezdochka*?” Nikolai cups your face gently, and you turn fully to him. “No, don't worry. You see, John is already much better. I think, he will take his meds religiously from now on. Don't you, Price?”

“I will.” John's voice is still breathy and gruff.

“I just… Can we forget-”

Nik cuts you off by planting a soft, caring kiss on your forehead. He had this habit of kissing your face innocently for ages, but right now his touch means so much more than ever before.

Forgiveness. Maybe even approval.

He doesn't move away, and you hide in a shadow under his chin.

“Talk to me, little star. What brought you down? What made you cut off such a beautiful kiss?”

You feel Nikolais deep voice reverberating in his chest, you relax under Johns palm, resting on your back. And then you find a courage to speak.

“I didn't want you to feel left out. This must sound disgusting, it's so complicated to tell it in a way, it would sound normal.”

“Mind if I help you?” You feel his lips forming every syllable as he still presses them against your skin.

You nod and feel his smile.

His lips travel down your left cheek, leaving a trail of feather kisses. You didn't even think, that this man can be so tender. You close your eyes, letting him take away all your doubts one by one.

There's only his breath hitching with little chuckles between the kisses, the cradle of his palms, bringing you closer, the comfort of his voice, when his lips hover over yours.

“May I kiss you?”

You're too deep in the embrace of his grace to remember, that it's supposed to be wrong. Another nod, a subtle one, but it's enough. Nikolai doesn't just kiss - he tastes, explores your lips, while the easy caress of his fingers is mapping over the places where you’re tense and knotted. Every touch is intoxicating, it lures you even further until you give in and relax completely. Your hand snakes to the back of his head, fingers drown in his dark hair, and Nikolai purrs into your mouth. He's so attentive to your desires, that he parts his lips right away, when he feels the touch of your tongue.

Go on. Try him. Have him the way you wanted for so long.

As you indulge yourself in this lasting kiss, a wave of heat awakes on the back oh your shoulder and runs in every direction of your body. John was so quiet, so soft, that you didn't even notice him, until he tugged the collar of your shirt down and placed a long kiss against your exposed skin.

But when you realize what is happening, your brain refuses to keep functioning. You're trapped between their warm figures dwarfing your body, but you feel free for the first time around them. You catch John's head blindly in a silent plead to not leave you and to your joy, he only closes the gap between you two. You feel lightheaded as their lips leave wet trails on your face, neck and shoulders.

“A wildly beautiful little star. So gentle, so generous for us.” You practically feel Nikolai's content smile before he nips your skin lightly, drawing a sharp inhale from you.

“I don't want to leave this bed. Ever.” John's husky rumble echoes inside your chest.

Each time you turn your head to either of them and your lips meet yet again - you hear their low hums, growing into nearly moans. They don't mind sharing. Quite the opposite, to be precise: they welcome the idea. But each of them is just so hungry for more of you - their voices give them away.

“You smell bloody delicious, darling.” Price's beard tingles your jaw, as he speaks.

“You taste delicious,” tops up Nikolai.

As if their lips weren't enough to drive you to the edge - their hands become more demanding with every next little squeeze, every brush of fingertips against the exposed skin. You barely control yourself, trying to hold on to both of them. But they make sure, you're being taken care off carried away from the world in their arms.

It feels so good - it's almost too much. You can't even remember yourself, when a long moan escapes you. And they both stop. Still holding you gently, still stroking your hair, they both give time and space to find yourself in this very moment. But instead of that, your mind in being swarmed with a million of questions immediately.

Do they hate you now? Think you're insane? Is this the end of your friendship?

“I need to stop.” You freeze in horror, thinking that they will let go of you right there.

But they don't. They still hold you, just don't try to kiss you again.

“I'm sorry, I-”

“Don't be.” John brushes a strand of hair from your forehead.

“Little star is absolutely right to put this on pause, John. We need to take things slow, if we don't want to fuck any of this up.” Nikolai looks from Price back to you and smiles. “Both me and John been waiting for a long time, zvezdochka. Seems like forever. Just for a single touch. For a single minute spent this close.”

You turn to John with eyes full of disbelief. And he speaks to you.

“A last thing, I would want, is to rush into this, and push, and… bloody lose this.” He runs his fingers down your cheekbone and touches the very corner of your shy smile. “So how about we call this a goodnight kiss? You can stay here, I'll go crash on a couch.”

“Or I can drive you home, if you feel like you need time alone to let things settle in, little one,” adds Nik, pressing you against his chest.

You freeze in uncertainty for a moment. And then a question emerges from the deepest layers of your uncertainty.

“Was it a good kiss?”

Price smiles, bringing his face once again closer to yours.

“The first thing I do tomorrow - I write Nikolai, asking if today wasn't my feverish dream. That's how good it was. Then we will start to figure out, how to ask you for a date. Not a friend date - a real one. I will be eating my meds like a happy idiot, smiling to the memory of you here. And I will count hours to that date, should you say yes. That's how good it was.”

You close your eyes to his lips touching against your cheeks.

Later that evening Nik will drive you home and you will ask him, if hes not disappointed by everything, that happened, or not happened.

“Disappointed?” He will chuckle. “I've had the best nights I have had in… cant remember, how long.”

He will keep things sweet and relatively soft on your threshold: just a few lingering, but not too long kisses.

“Give us just a little time, my star, let us believe in our own luck, realise, that you do indeed want the same thing as we two - and we will take you on the best date, you ever had.”

*zvezdochka - little star

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