#also i will do my other requests i swear

[coolguycore]

thinking about him.... joe barbaro

and marty becayae hes my favorite.. i should draw pepe too he is also my fav.. err ania too!! my mafia ii oc tha loves marty so much...... wrghh!!

trying a new art style if you havent noticed.... ive been doing a lot of?? painting!! its actually really easy takes me about 30 minutes to an hour... love!!!!!

ok tuank you bye bye i love you!!

[michax-forever]

Oh no I did it again-

[Part 1] [Part 2]

[good-beanswrites]

Ahh ive been reading some of your writings and they're just so warm and fluffy to read (if that makes sense??) Though i cant really express it in the tags ;; also if its alright, may i please request blanket with mikoto or tears with fuuta? - @erimnar

Omg thank you -- I've been so grateful for your tags! :)) And thanks for the requests, I had a lot of fun with these woo! I went with a real fun one for Mikoto/Blanket (once again, picture T1 minigram vibes) and I'll post a slightly angstier one for Fuuta/Tears soon 👍

“Mikotoooo, just share with Muu,” the girl pouted. “I mean it!”

He scooted out of her reach. “What are you gonna do, stab me about it?”

Muu’s jaw dropped, but there was no real horror behind it. “Maybe!” She lunged for him again. 

After a strange rattling from the walls had woken some in the middle of the night, all the heat in the prison had seeped away. Es had left to fix it immediately, and no one had seen them for hours. In Mikoto’s opinion, they seemed better versed in law than plumbing and mechanical fixes. He had no idea how long they’d all be shivering like this in the winter chill.

The prisoners walked around all morning in a mismatch of spare layers. Mahiru giggled inside one of Shidou’s extra doctor coats, far too big on her. Mikoto hadn’t stopped laughing that Shidou owned extra doctor coats in the first place. Yuno’s stylish hats could be spotted on several of the prisoners, Mikoto included. (He’d given his own beanie to Kazui, earlier.) Fuuta had handed out a concerning amount of sweatshirts, and Muu had some fashionable scarves that gave enough warmth to be useful.

In addition to the ridiculous getups, they each carried their bed sheets around their shoulders. Mikoto was surprised to find himself the envy of the group.

A while back he’d requested a weighted blanket; he remembered finding one helpful when work got too overwhelming. Milgram had provided a fairly large one, though he felt it hadn’t worked as well here. He didn't expect it to cause a stir until Shidou pointed out that its weight would make it even warmer than his own. Following that, it didn’t take long to attract the small army of murderous children that were after him. 

As he stepped away from Muu, Yuno leapt at his other side, ready to snatch the blanket off of him. Although Haruka and Amane were too nervous to make a grab at him, they stood anxiously nearby rooting for his loss. Mahiru had jumped in as well. Her quick movements forced Mikoto to spin around and draw it even closer around his shoulders. Caring less about the blanket, but always ready to tackle someone, Fuuta joined the scuffle.

It wasn't like Mikoto cared about the blanket, either. He had no issue sharing it with the others. He knew the attitude in the prison had been dropping recently. Despite the brief camaraderie from sharing articles of clothing, everyone’s mood had been especially bitter today. As physical discomfort added to their mental strain, things could go south quickly. The place needed to liven up a bit.

He stepped back from the blanket thieves, flicking the corner of it from Fuuta’s hands. 

“Not so fast!”

Fuuta fumed. “You asshole…”

Yuno, meanwhile, seemed up for the challenge. “You’re quick!”

“I’ve had a bit of experience…” He flashed a wicked grin. Mikoto didn’t talk about his family much, but a few of the others knew he grew up on fairly good terms with a younger sister. His big brother instincts had developed just fine.

He darted this way and that. He faked and sidestepped and spun. As his opponents grew bolder, he ended up sweeping the blanket off his back. He swung it around the room with less effort than expected. He was stronger than he looked, and easily kept the girls at bay while wrestling Fuuta for the blanket. He let out a laugh as he fought back against all the grabbing hands. Taking advantage of the height difference, he lifted it directly over his head.

The position wasn’t the most secure, though. His taunts were quickly replaced by feigned cries as the others dragged him to the ground. As they pinned him down, a cheer erupted from Haruka before he covered his mouth. The others joined in the celebration as they claimed their prize.

Mikoto lamented, “you’re so cruel… you’re all so cruel…” It was good, he thought, hearing them all laugh.

The loss of his blanket wasn’t his only punishment. Heaving an exhausted breath, Yuno flopped down directly on top of him. She tucked herself and Muu into the blanket. Then Mahiru wiggled in, beckoning to Amane and Haruka. By the time they all nestled in, there was just barely enough room for Fuuta to squeeze in with everyone. 

Mikoto wheezed from under the pile of prisoners.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “You win. Fuck -- let me breathe...”

Mahiru just made herself more comfortable. “But you’re so warm!” The others muttered their agreement. Not one showed any sign of moving. The prison was far too cold to give up heat like this, after all.

“That’s because you all made me work so hard!” He huffed. “Come on.”

“What are you gonna do?” Muu giggled, doing a poor impression of his voice, “murd--”

“-- Aw, shaddup…”

[sageokami]

Drew this gay again but inspired by @mp100days terumob fanart bc its amazing

[milk-b0iler]

Draw shimmy!

SHIMMY

Close up v v v

[obey-me-headquarters]

Impatience fills the air. Like a tiger ready to strike or a coiled band bending to break. The atmosphere hangs heavily between you, Cove, and Baxter.

It was a normal evening for the three of you, or as normal as your new relationship could be. An evening spent in and enjoying each other's cooking that started out playful slowly turned more and more heated as the night went on.

With the food eaten and the dishes being washed, the tension was palpable. Baxter is on washing duty, while Cove dries and you put the dishes away. Every touch as plants were passed lingered, and glances got more and more heated.

Finally, the band broke. Lunging forward, you grab Baxter by the collar and push him against the sink. He raises his eyebrows at the suddenness but melts into the kiss with a needy moan.

Cove sheepishly glances over his shoulder at the two of you, wet dish still in hand. His eagerness bleeding through, but his shyness halting him from making any sudden moves.

Your tongue slips into Baxter's willing mouth, welcomed with a needy moan. The both of you were nearly lost in your heated embrace. Tongues pressing against each other and hands desperately clenching clothing. Yet your mind couldn't help but wander to your other partner. A sidelong glance reveals Cove standing off to the side, wet dish in hand, his want so earnestly on display.

Well, that certainly wouldn't do.

Working on pure impulse, you grab onto Cove's shirt in a blind grab and pull him towards you. Breaking the kiss with Baxter, you swiftly direct your attention towards your sea formed haired lover. A startled squeak escapes his lips as you lean forward to press your lips against his.

Baxter observes you two through hooded eyes, slumped against the counter as he desperately tries to catch his breath.

"As fun as kissing in the kitchen is, do you mind if we take this a bit more comfortable?" Baxter asks.

You loathe to put an end to your sudden make-out session, but you could see the appeal of the suggestion. You didn't want one of the first times the three of you were intimate to be in a kitchen.

With a grumble, you lean away from Cove, who gives you a confused look.

"H-huh? We're- what?"

Obviously, he didn't hear what Baxter had suggestioned, to preoccupied with having your tongue down his throat. With a laugh, you pull Cove by the hand and grab Baxter's on your way, too.

It was a bit awkward trying to lead them both, but by Baxter's pleased snicker, you guess that the two of them made due. It wasn't long before the three of you arrived at your door, which you kicked out as you were out of hands to open it with.

"Um, I could have opened that for you." Cove states behind you.

Yet you pay him mind, quickly leading your two lovers towards the bed. Cove falls first onto it, and you halt Baxter with another kiss.

Grinning, he leans into it, and you push him into Cove's lap. Cove gratefully accepts his gift and wraps his lips around Baxter's neck while your own is still pressed against Baxter's. Trailing kisses up and down the shorter man's neck, Cove stops at his mole. Knowing that it's one of the most sensitive spots on his body, Cove ghosts his lips over the spot.

With a choked-off moan, Baxter gasps against your lips. An airly chuckle escapes your lips, and you ever so slightly lean away, just to enjoy the sight of Baxter squirming against Cove. The taller man was caging him in with his body, holding him against his chest as he teased the skin around Baxter's oh so sensitive mole. Baxter wasn't that short of a guy, but Cove was extremely tall, and he used every inch to his advantage as he held Baxter against him.

It was obviously doing something for Baxter, too, judging by the way he leaned back into the hold, as if he wanted to envelop fully. With a smirk, Baxter glances towards you, obviously wondering where you've gone, but not too disappointed with who you left him with.

Before he could say a no doubt sophisticated and playful remark, you leaned forward and captured his mouth in a kiss. Yet this kiss was less about getting acquainted with the inside of his mouth and more about exploration as your hands trail alongside his body.

Reaching his crotch your hands confidently pressed against it, earning your a groan from the monochromatic man, which you happily swallowed. Baxter was throughly overwhelmed sandwiched between you and Cove, a fact he was acutely aware of. When you leaned back to catch your breath, Baxter stammers out:

"Don't- don't you two want to enjoy each other's company a bit more?"

Grinning deviously at him, you very much did not. Content with overwhelming him with pleasure he never thought he would receive. Cove obviously had a similar thought as he reached around Baxter to undo his shirt buttons.

"No." He whispered bluntly into the shell of Baxter's ear, earning him a delicious shudder.

With a defeated sigh, Baxter relaxes into the hold. "Well, I wouldn't stop you two since you're so determined."

"Good, you couldn't if you tired." You reply with a grin before dropping to your knees.

Hastily, you grab onto Baxter's belt and loosen the buckle. Flinging it over your shoulder the moment it's loose enough you make quick work of the buttons and zipper, cursing yourself for not removing his clothing before sitting him down, but too impatient to stop now. With an annoyed grunt, you pull down his pants, not even bothering to remove them fully, and let them hang around his ankles.

Finally you see what you're been thinking about all night, Baxter's cock. Unfortunately, it's still clothed by his cute leaf boxers, but it's half hard and dripping, creating a wet patch. You knew that Baxter was needy, but you didn't know that a few kisses were all that was needed to get him this worked up.

Kissing the wet patch, Baxter bucks against you, almost hitting you in the face. Luckily you're able to lean back before he does.

"Sorry, th-that was rude of me. I just- hmp!" Baxter throws his head back with a moan as Cove sucks a hickey around his mole while his hands reach down to hold Baxter down.

"Don't worry, I'll keep him still for you." Cove states.

You know that Baxter isn't going anyway with Cove holding him down. His hard earned muscles he got from his summers of surfing being put to use as he holds Baxter tightly against him.

With a smirk you pull the leaf boxers down to his ankles, and enjoy the sight of Baxter's hard cock leaking against his stomach. Licking your lips you lean forward to give his slit a kiss, earning you a breathy groan.

Cove's hands wrap firmly around Baxter's thighs, spreading his legs for you and holding him in place.

"Good luck, you're going to need it." He says ominously into Baxter's ear.

"I- what?" Baxter asks confused, he's never been victim to your mouth on his cock before, unlike Cove who knew exactly what you're capable of.

Before he can get an answer, your lips wrap around his dick. You only take a moment to savor the taste of his precum and compare it to Cove's, before your tongue works its magic.

"Ugh! O-oh, my- hmp! Now wait just a- fuck!" Baxter throws his head back with a throaty groan. You're glad that Cove had the foresight to hold Baxter down, because the way he's thrashing right now would surely dislodge you from your spot. Fortunately, with his strong hold, Baxter remains held in place as you treat him to the otherworldly experience of your mouth.

No amount of squirming, thrashing, or withering could deter you, as Baxter quickly surmised, not that he stopped doing any of those things as you sucked. The moans and groans you pull out of him are entirely involuntary, as Baxter would prefer if you and Cove didn't hear such neediness from him so early into your relationship. But there was no helping it, and he quickly spilled a mix of "Please," "Oh god," and language you didn't think the normally sophisticated man would ever confess to knowing.

Cove decided that he wouldn't completely overwhelm the poor man, at least, not yet, and took a break from painting his neck with hickeys. Instead, he was content to watch Baxter lose all sense of composer against him.

"Fuck- please, oh God I can't!" Baxter moaned, and that was all the warning before he came into your mouth.

Normally, he was a lot more polite, warning about any spilling, but all sense of decency was clearly sucked out of him. You let yourself enjoy the unique taste of his spent before swallowing, mouth still wrapped around his dick. Baxter mewled softly at the sensation but was too worn to complain.

Leaning back you wipe all drool and uncaught cum from your chin with the back of the hand, and chuckled when you caught sight of Baxter.

You were getting used to seeing him more relaxed and messy, but you have yet to see just how far he could let himself go until now. He laid boneless in Cove's hold, the taller man's hold being the only thing keeping him unright. His eyes were glossed over and his pupils were so dilated that it made him look cat like. Mouth hanging slightly open, a few drops of drool spill down his chin.

Cove is no longer holding him so tightly, instead choosing a loser hold against his chest. Leaning down, he presses a kiss onto Baxter's forehead, and that seems to snap him out of his daze.

Looking down at you with hooded eyes accusatory, Baxter asks:

"Where in the world did you learn to do that with your tongue?"

[fruixtii]

AUGH I forgot i’m fasting tomorrow…hopefully i’m not too tired to finish the rest of my art i have piled up before the strike starts

[mel-loly]

-Hey🌹

(also- read the tags please..)

[nomazee]

every time i sit down and try to write an atsushi or akutagawa x reader i get the biggest mental block because i’m too much of an sskk believer to write them as anything else

[dragon-tamer-1]

Ok seriously, I promise to get to the requests I have soon, just gotta do a few things first but I promise to start drawing/writing them as soon as I get done with these.

[mirandahamilton]

hiya, i don't know if you're taking gif requests for seven kings must die but i just remembered the bit where uhtred's bargaining to get his sword back and he's like "it's got a garnet on it", absolutely sent me and i would love to see it immortalised 🥰

oh absolutely!!! publishing this so i can be held accountable haha

[littlebigplanet]

finally finished rdr2 for the first time on my computer :) took me 105 hours

[celesteleoves]

hcs of bakugou / todoroki being a hardcore simp for reader maybe?

“I WANNA BE YOURS.”

KATSUKI BAKUGOU/SHOTO TODOROKI x fem!reader.

summary: what the request said!

warnings: swearing (bakugou…), mentions of todoroki’s childhood (very brief), that’s it i believe!

a/n: i love this request. i hope i wrote this to your liking!

—

BAKUGOU KATSUKI —

he is a very subtle simp. you probably wouldn’t even think he liked you if you guys weren’t already dating. the way he shows his love for you is… questionable.

he does the simple things like following you around like a lost puppy (even though he swears he does NOT) .

he’ll definitely demand you never leave his side so he can always be there to protect you.

“you’re so weak, you need me to be there to protect you at all times.”

you’ll just nod, enjoying your boyfriends presence. (he’s actually geeking over you aswell and the fact you grace him with your presence).

he takes you everywhere with him and doesn’t care about what anyone says. oh, aizawa paired him up with kirishima? you’re coming with. you can’t stay a second away from him before he’s rushing around like a headless chicken looking for you.

your biggest fan by far, anything you do he’s practically on the floor worshipping you. then the next second he’ll be calling your outfit disgusting in the sweetest way possible.

he’ll also deny the fact he’s a simp for you. one time, kirishima caught the poor boy gazing at you, dare i say LOVINGLY, across the room as you did a mundane task.

kirishima has never grinned wider than he did when he noticed this. your boyfriend noticed the quiet chuckles leaving his friend and turned towards him.

“what the fuck are you laughing at?”

“you stalking y/n!”

“I WAS NOT STARING AT HER.” sure… liar. you literally just outed yourself…

bakugou loved you, even though he shows it in his weird, weird ways.

SHOTO TODOROKI —

the sweetest, sweetest boyfriend ever. literally the ideal boyfriend anyone could have SIMPLY because of how doting he is towards his partner.

he’s absolutely enamoured with you. he isn’t shameful about it either! (referencing one of my other head-canons) .

this boy will downright show his love for you.

we all know shoto has a hard time with social cues, he blames it on his childhood and the lack of social times he had – always being isolated.

that’s also the reason why he doesn’t understand why he can’t stare you down like a hawk and not expect people to be slightly worried… why is he staring at you like he wants to eat you?

cuteness aggression is a thing. you both get it when you’re with each other.

you can’t believe you managed to secure this boy. he never opened up to just anyone, yet for you he made an exception. you flew that all the time.

meanwhile your boyfriend is still in denial you two are dating. every time you bring up your realtionship he’s blushing like a maniac and shying away from you.

your classmates notice the little things. such as you placing your phone face up only for it to be face down a couple seconds later because todoroki fixed it for you knowing you don’t want people staring at every notification on your phone (this is so me guys i’m sorry).

he is very attentive, he’s such a simp. he’ll pick up on the little things. sometimes, you feel like he knows you better than you know yourself.

there was definitely one time you had been making yourself a snack in the kitchen, forgetting to get one of your favourite piece of food for the snack .

once your snack was made, you frowned at the missing piece of your food you wanted.

starting to get upset, you looked around for something to make up for this.

“here.” a soft voice spoke causing you to relax at the sound of todorokis gentle tone.

“i can’t find my-”

“y/n. here.”

you looked at your boyfriends hand, noticing he was holding multiple variations of the missing food item you craved.

your lips trembled at his thoughtfulness and you pulled your boyfriend in for a hug as he returned it with a soft smile on his face.

he’s too sweet for you and such a simp!

—

a/n: guys, bare with me if there is spelling errors. this was not proof-read! i hope this was good enough, it was kind of short.

SEND REQUESTS! 🤍🤍

[themswritinwords]

Currently doing a final proofread, and by "doing a final proofread" I mean I'm 200 pages deep in an unsearchable PDF of an owners manual for a car from the 90s that I've never owned, desperately trying to verify how one would open the little door that leads to the gas cap.

Is it relevant to the plot? Nope. Is it even relevant to the action happening in the scene? Nope. It's exactly one line that serves as a transition. But I know-- I just know-- that if it's wrong, the Car People will find it and they will eat me alive for it.

I also know I'm not the only one. So lay em on me, fellow writeblrs: What bizarre, weirdly specific, ultra-niche research are we doing for our WIPs?

[fayes-fics]

Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers. 

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer. 

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered. 

“Are you sure?” 

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him. 

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict. 

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room. 

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby. 

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you. 

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?” 

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later. 

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse. 

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank. 

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours.  “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome. 

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot. 

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is. 

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body. 

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.  

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area. 

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.”  His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise. 

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you. 

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time. 

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly. 

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does. 

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone. 

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage. 

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm. 

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world. 

Which to you both, they are.

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[ayoyoungg]

I finally met JO1 😭😭😭

8.20.23