#dining settee

[rolandsbeanies]

French Country Dining Room - Kitchen Dining Inspiration for a large french country dark wood floor and brown floor kitchen/dining room combo remodel with beige walls, a standard fireplace and a brick fireplace

[vintagehomecollection]

Thonet chairs embrace a mirrored table from the thirties surmounted by a triptych by Francoise Jourdan-Gassin. The accessories are Bakelite and Baroque bronze objects. The rug is Eileen Gray's Blackboard.

Rooms by Design, 1989

[thevisualvamp]

Have a seat

[kazuos]

Sun Room Raleigh

Inspiration for a medium-sized transitional sunroom renovation with a regular ceiling and a medium-tone wood floor.

[changegamescom]

Dining Room Boston Image of a medium-sized eclectic great room with a dark wood floor, gray walls, and no fireplace

[psycholydia]

Enclosed Dining Room Philadelphia

Enclosed dining room idea in a mid-sized traditional style with a medium tone wood floor and a brown floor, red walls, and no fireplace

[furniturebyabd-blog]

Contemporary is one of the most difficult words to define in home furnishings. It means different things to different people. Some view it as stark, unadorned by ornamentation. And some see it simply as clean lines, angular hardware and gleaming finishes. Century's Omni collection can be defined as COOL - POWERFUL - CURVACEOUS - UNDERSTATED - GEOMETRIC - SOPHISTICATED and WARM.

https://furniturebyabd.com/tov-furniture

[willqraharn]

Transitional Dining Room - Great Room

[rinann]

French Country Dining Room - Kitchen Dining

[peachpitfics]

Out of the Woods

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: As Lord and Lady Debling, you are headed back to your estate to spend time together in seclusion before your new husband has to leave for his next research endeavour.

Length: 3.3k

Pairing:  Lord Alfred Debling x fem!reader

Content Warnings: fingering, public sex, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, breeding/impregnation.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Lord Debling’s estate was several days away by carriage, but that was no matter, you had each other to get to know along the way. There had only been your family present at the wedding, and a few of Alfreds close friends and colleagues. It was suspected by yourself and your family that perhaps you would not be meeting the Lords family at all.

The wedding night had been more than you had dreamed of, and while he had explicitly claimed he was not looking for love, you could see the beginnings of something forming between you. Your new husband was gentle and kind, with the softest touch – your mother had warned you on your wedding day that men took their pleasures with their wives that evening. But she was wrong, Lord Debling allayed all your fears, quelled your nerves, and held you tightly all night.

“Are you excited to see the manor?” Lord Debling reached over to you, sitting next to him, and clasped his hand around yours. His touch never seemed out of place or uncomfortable.

“Yes, of course I am Alfred” You replied, looking out the window to see if it was getting nearer. In the distance, a sprawling manor, snugly built into a valley, was surrounded by overgrown trees and vines. It looked peaceful. His thumb stroked the top of your hand in fondness, excited to see you so alit.

The manor had wide, deep blue double doors and tall windows, you were sure this home would be filled with a lot of light. The service staff of the house all stood outside to greet you, their own excitement bubbling over. Alfred appeared to be friendly with each member of staff, shaking hands and even offering his head housekeeper a warm hug upon arrival.

“Is this your lovely bride then, my Lord?” The middle-aged woman asked, beaming at you.

“So, it is. I’d like you all to get acquainted with Lady Y/n – My travels begin in a weeks’ time, and I will be leaving her ladyship in charge of the entire estate” Alfred placed a firm hand at the small of your back and pulled you into him.

Clambering up the front steps, Alfred began giving you the grand tour of your new home. The study, the library, the master bedroom and even the nursery – something in you was not expecting there to be a full nursey set up no meters from where you were sleeping. But it did excite you, the thought of children running around the manor to keep you busy while Alfred was away. It was your favourite room in the manor.

Leading you back to the sitting room at the front of the house, he held both your hands in his, “If you could eat anything for supper tonight, what might it be?” Alfred asked excitedly.

His question took you by surprise. You had taken on your husband’s lifestyle as soon as he asked for your hand.

“I would greatly appreciate fresh bread,” Your mouth began watering, “And eggs! Perhaps also some jam” You blushed, thinking about the insane request you just made.

Alfred laughed heartily, “Of course, I should hope we will not be having the jam and eggs together” He prayed, scooping you up into his arms and laying you on the settee by the window. It would not have mattered what size you were, Alfreds strength was clear and effortless. Even without a love match, you felt adored. Every interaction seemed romantic.

You spent the evening in the dining room, speaking about your lives back and forth, picking at bread and cheese the cook had sent out after you kept on at the table well after the meal was finished. It was nice, getting to know someone on this level.

There was a lull in the conversation, you could tell your husband wanted to ask you something.

“Y/n, the housekeepers have prepared a room for you across the hall from the master bedroom,” He swallowed, “However, you are welcome to sleep with me. The choice is yours, of course, and I will bare no ill will, whatever you choose”. Alfred was so very well spoken, even if he was trying not to choke on the words from nervousness.

You thought about it for a moment. You would have plenty of time to be alone with your thoughts. Sleeping separately would create an unintentional divide and even damage your chances of falling in love. The decision felt simple to you.

“I should like to sleep in the master bedroom” You flashed him a delicate smile.

“I would like that, very much” He replied, an uncontrollably grateful smile glistening in his eyes. You could see it when he looked at you, this glint of hope, right in the centre of his luminous blue iris. “Shall we go to bed then?” Alfred stood, holding out his hand to escort you up the stairs.

Lying together in bed, unsure of what was considered appropriate, you kept your fingers woven together, hands planted on your stomach. You felt him roll onto his side to face you in the dark, so you matched him, getting a little closer.

“I apologise for my introspection; I do not know how to act” Alfred whispered to you.

“I have not been married before. I know how to run a house, keep things going… But I have never been a wife before, I do not know either” You reassured him he was not the only one feeling a little lost.

“I am sure we will get used to being together” Alfred reached out, squeezing your arm in solidarity, “I think I should like sharing a bed with you. I wish to speak to you tomorrow on some matters only husband and wife should discuss. However, my lady, I am so very tired from travelling and I must sleep” He sighed, drifting forward in the blackness to press his warm lips into yours. Shivers of excitement raced down your body as you spun around and slid into his arms, the both of you falling asleep in minutes.

                                          ~

Alfred invited you to breakfast the following day, your heart pounded as you made your way to the dining room, wondering what he wanted to speak to you about. Breakfast was quiet, there was an apprehensive tenseness in his shoulders and the way he picked prudently at his eggs.

“I am of the impression you are feeling less than confident about what you must discuss with me today, Alfred. I want you to know that I will listen to what you have to say with respect and consideration” You tried to reassure him.

His face upturned, “I am pleased to hear it. The questions I have are easy enough to ask, but I do struggle with beginning the conversation, without appearing too direct” He cleared his throat with a soft chuckle.

“Do not concern yourself, simply ask the questions you would like answered and I will do my best” You nodded once, putting down your fork and straightening your dress.

“Alright,” Alfred shuffled uncomfortably, “I would like to discuss the possibility of an heir. I know that I am going to be away for some time, and I will be leaving you to care for the estate. I wish to have children, and I know that your mama had said that you were also committed to little ones. Is that true?” The words tumbled from him in a heap.

“Of course, my mother would never have lied about my desires. I have always wanted children, as long as I can remember I have dreamed of being a mother” You beamed. Alfred seemed relieved in hearing this, and you felt the same similar alleviation.

“Thank goodness,” Alfred sighed happily, “Is this something you would like to achieve before I am to go away? I understand that I would miss the first several years of our first child’s life, but if it would make you happy, I would be agreeable to trying.”

Your face could not hide the stretch of your smile at all. Nothing would have made you happier; you had fretted over this conversation, your mind telling you that there was no way Alfred would want children, considering his endeavors. It seemed you could not be more wrong, and with every passing moment between you, love bloomed further in your heart.

“I think a picnic, this afternoon, in my favourite spot!” Alfred rubbed his hands together excitedly. You nodded fervently, clawing to spend more time with him before he left.

The cook prepared a picnic basket, with wine and bread, cheese, and fruits. There was a blanket inside also. You assumed this was something he did often, even alone, as the picnic basket was quite worn. The basket hung on his left forearm, his other hand clasped in yours as he led you out the kitchen door, and across the field.

“Tis not a far way to walk” He remarked, making sure you had comfortable shoes on anyhow. You squeezed his hand, silently thanking him for caring enough to check.

The grass was long and unkept, the trees and thicket were dense. Alfred liked to keep and observe nature exactly how it was. He enjoyed watching the birds and the foxes evade each other at the edge of the bramble. If the housekeeper found a snake or a toad, she always found him to remove it properly. Nothing in his natural habitat worried him much, hardly even the spiders, webs woven tightly between slight gaps on your journey.

Getting closer and closer to your destination, you could hear it. The sweet somber trickling of water. A crooked, clear stream, in the middle of this jungle of dour giants, solidified statues of spirits long gone. Every step you took felt ancient, the hollowness of your chest, uneasy in such unfamiliar territory. Yet there was Alfred, more at home here than in the manor. Watching him was like watching a child play outdoors, sheer wonder and interest on his face in the unexplored.

Under the shade of a willow, in the grass by the stream, Alfred spread the blanket out, sitting down in a homely manner. The way he looked up at you, angelic, his eyes beckoning you to him, his hand outstretched, begging you to trust him. Before even thinking about it, your body had moved you towards him, curling your legs behind you, nestling into his side.

“Does it worry you, being out here?” He asked softly.

“I do not think worry is the correct word. I appreciate how comfortable you are here, it is strange to me” You blinked up at him, “This is potentially one of the most beautiful places I have ever been in my life” You hummed, watching the water creep over the rocks in front of you gently.

“I am glad you think so” Alfred fiddled with leaves in his left hand, the other wrapped around you. His hand rested on your plump hip, his fingers stretching back and forth, grasping on a little. It was like he was assessing how he could grab onto you, the thought of which thrilled you a little. You reached your hand up and combed your fingers through his beard. These were firsts for the both of you – you did not expect the texture to be so cushy and light, it fascinated you. Alfred’s hair was so light and neat, well taken care of. He closed his eyes as you stroked his face, a gentle smile took hold and a little pink tinge glowed on his cheeks.

The movement of your hand stopped only when you were properly hypnotized by his facial expression. Alfred opened his eyes when it dawned on him that you were simply staring, an infatuated gleam reflected in your own eyes.

“Shall we have something to eat?” Alfred asked.

“Please” You gave your head a slight shake, breaking free of your trance.

Your husband served you a small plate of bread, cheese, and fruit, he poured the wine and passed a glass to you. You thought about how content you were, picnicking with your husband. You sat cross legged across from each other now, the conversation light, the food, delicious. Alfred watched on as you tried your best to eat your lunch like a lady. Biting into fresh raspberries, juice dribbling down your chin, a droplet falling onto your chest. Without hesitation, Alfreds thumb met your chin, swiping another droplet off with his finger and bringing it to his mouth sensually.

Suddenly his icy blue eyes deepened, a scorching claim sparked. You had made love once before, on your wedding night, out of obligation. It had been slightly uncomfortable and more educational than recreational. Then, he had been calm and gentle, it felt like he separated himself and his genuine desire. Now, this look in his eye, ignited something candescent in your lower stomach.

Alfred lunged forward, his lips colliding with yours in a ravenous fashion. You both gasped for air at the slightest of breaks in your osculation, Alfred’s hands finding their way to your hips, dragging you forward to sit in his lap. He was tall, even sitting, he had to bend down to kiss you. His thick fingers, and wide palms, threaded their way through your hair, taking hold of you. The dainty kisses he placed along your jawline felt lovesick, his moans were carnal, and still thoroughly shy. Your hips instinctually ground into his, feeling how hard he was beneath his breeches under you.

Reaching between you, your hand slid down the length of him through his pants, hopeless yearning surging through you, you could barely contain yourself. This was the first time you felt like a wife, with her husband. Alfreds head hushed backwards, gasps leaving his lips. His eyes seemed to roll around in his head, sedate with pleasure.

“My lady” Alfred groaned, swallowing, “Are you certain? Here?” He asked breathlessly.

“Yes, I am sure” You had never felt so safe and so vulnerable in your life.

Alfred began stripping off clothing from his upper half, his eye contact surer suddenly. You observed, afraid blinking meant you would miss something. His chest was solid, bulky. His shoulders broad, his collar bones defined. Your hands rushed to his bare chest, fingers playing in his light brown, blonde chest hair that neatly trickled down his belly and into his pants. It had been dark on your wedding night, very low candlelight, whereas now, in the middle of the day, you could see every detail.

His hands moved from your hair and pulled your hands from his crotch, maintaining your gaze as his fingers danced exploratively down your inner thigh, towards the apex of your thighs. Your lips parted ever so slightly, fearful pleasure pooling in sweet wetness between your legs.

Alfred leaned forward, his lips hardly touching yours, “It will be okay” He whispered into you. He had not touched you like this before. His pointer finger delved between your lips, exotic excitement contorting your face as his finger brushed against your clitoris for the first time. Your knees wanted to clench together, stopped by his other hand, holding your legs apart for him as you sat on his legs. Switching to his thumb, stroking upward, Alfreds pleased expression, complacence seemed to ooze from every pore as your moans overtook the sounds of nature surrounding.

This was what you had been craving, this intimacy with your husband. His fingers flicked, circled, and tapped in just the right spots, his breathy kisses were the only encouragement you needed, he sent you right into a shockingly continuous climax. The sounds you made were loud, uncontrollable moans that echoed off the dense trees around you. The longer he caressed you there, the many more ripples of this exquisite feeling you felt.

“You are very easy to please, my lady” Alfred moaned softly into your mouth, his tongue flicking over yours, his teeth holding your lower lip captive.

“Perhaps you just know me better than you think” You sighed in glorious resign. You reached down, unbuttoning his breeches, his blue eyes widening and willing.  Planting your hands on each of his shoulders, you pushed him to the picnic blanket, sliding your legs either side of his as he laid down. Stuffing your own anxiety down, you reached into his trousers and freed his erection. You inspected it first, not having seen it in this light before. This was your first time holding it in your hands, your first time touching different parts of him. You felt you should have guessed the size of it would seem gargantuan to you, with the width of his shoulders and how tall he was. It only made sense that proportionally, he was large in your hands and extremely hard. It intrigued you, and you promised yourself, that in a more comfortable location, you would explore him further. For right now, you just wanted to make him feel as he made you.

Up under your dress, your hand wrapped around his length, you placed him at your entrance as you hovered over him. Alfreds hands rested steadily on your hips, ready to help guide you down. Sinking down onto the first inch of him, you yelped in pleasant surprise, pausing for a moment to allow your body to adjust.

“You are so beautiful” Alfreds fingers brushed against your cheek, your mouth opening as you lowered yourself down another few inches. There were not many times before now that Alfred had truly complimented you, but this felt the most real. It felt the truest.

Your skin met his, you moved gently, the size of him effectively widening this part of your body. His elegant face looked up at you, nodding as his hips started meeting your movements in a more consistent rhythm. Everything felt tight, and yet free, Alfreds continuous thrusts were masterful. His hands flicked up under your dress, his fingers sinking into that divot in your hips where he had felt earlier.

“I imagined this would be the perfect place to hold you” He groaned, pressing you down into him. Every motion was deliberate, fueled by necessary, propulsive demand. Unbridled lust loomed underneath you, Alfred became unrestrained, idly sinful; pulling you forward, finally getting to kiss you as you bounced back to his thrust.

“Al- Alfred! Oh my god!” You screamed, his deepest maneuver yet sending you spinning.

“I want fill you y/n” Alfred moaned, losing control of his facial expressions.

Each powerful thrust felt deeper than the last, the raw insatiable need exuding from Alfred felt primitive and tawdry. Alfred cursed towards the heavens, his grip on your fleshy hips tighter than before. Each thrust more aggressive, more depraved, his mindless hunger for you tarnishing his gentlemanly sensibilities. Alfred finally reached his own supernal culmination, pressing into you a final few times before pulling you down to his side. Alfred's strong arms stretched around you and pulled you into him, his kiss a celebration of the acts you had performed together.

You snuggled up together on the picnic blanket, peaceful and mutually satisfied. Alfreds arms felt secure, and you realized you were already well and truly in love with him.

“Alfred,” You sighed sleepily.

“Mmm?” Alfred mumbled in response.

“I love you” You curled into him in an almost feline nature.

Alfreds body did not go rigid as you expected. Instead, he kind of relaxed into you more.

“I must admit, I did not expect to fall in love when we made this match,” Alfred articulated softly, “But I am enjoying it… Falling in love with you” Alfred rolled his head to the side, pressing a kiss onto your temple. “How thrilling it is to think we might have just created our first born”.

You finished your afternoon, drifting in and out of serene sleep beneath the swaying willow, the sound of trickling water and birds chirping, the only disturbance for miles.

--------------------------------------

Tag list: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

If you would like to be tagged in Bridgerton fanfiction written by me in the future, please let me know!

[eco-lite]

Some fun little things from Sanctuary by John Vornholt:

[Text ID: “A gentle rapping on the door awoke Captain Kirk, and he sat up in the unfamiliar bed to see Spock sitting on the settee across from him, looking quite elegant in a gold-embroidered robe of royal blue. The Vulcan might have been awake for hours, judging by the alertness in his eyes and the sun streaming through the cheery lace curtains. McCoy was still snoring away in the other bed, even after the rapping sounded again.” End ID]

This classic quote I’ve seen around… So… he was just sitting there? In his gorgeous elegant robe?? Okay sure.

[Text ID: “Kirk could see that both Senites who were in attendance that day were hovering around the large party in the dining room, so he turned to McCoy and screamed at the top of his lungs, ‘How dare you call me that!’ ‘But that’s exactly what you are!’ yelled McCoy. ‘And I’ll call you that any time I like!’ ‘Oh yeah!’ thundered Kirk. ‘I’ll make you eat those words!’ By now, the Senites had come running, and several of the new arrivals were peering out the curtained windows at the loudmouths on the veranda. ‘Now, now,’ said Spock with reasoned assurance, ‘anger never solved a problem. Let us order some wine and have a toast.’ ‘I can’t drink with him,’ snarled Kirk, pointing a finger at McCoy. ‘Did you hear what he called me?’ ‘No, I did not,’ Spock answered, truthfully. ‘He called me a…what was it?’ ‘A pompous windbag,’ the doctor replied. ‘That was it!’ shouted Kirk. ‘Those are fighting words!’” End ID]

Shatner would eat this up if it was in an episode.

[Text ID: “The Andorian continued, ‘For the immediate future, the three of you are considered a domestic unit. I hope that is acceptable?’ ‘Most of the time,’ Kirk said with a grin.” End ID]

Yes! They are a domestic unit! Do not separate them! (They’re in a community where abandoned ships are used as homes for families. The trio is living in the shuttle they crash landed in, which they refer to as a “shuttlehome” from this point. 🥹)

[angel-of-the-moons]

Hello hello! I would like to request a Hobie fic if that’s okay! If the concept makes you uncomfortable in any way shape or form I completely understand if you delete this or refuse. But I think the idea of Hobie getting baby fever after babysitting Mayday is so sweet. Him envisioning a little you and him running around with both of your features and he just scoops you up in a kiss, and shyly tells you about how he’s been thinking about how he wants a baby with you (I hope that’s not too uncomfortable or weird or strange!! Thank you for reading and I hope you’re having a good day/evening!!)

Ajsljdldnlsnldnldn this ask got me feral™ Ilysm

The Pitter Patter of Little Feet

Soft!Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

Because I'm tired of repeating myself: HOBIE IS AGED UP IN THIS FIC

TW/CW: Hobie being a secret softie, baby fever, NSFW, oral Fem! Receiving, punk with a heart of gold spray paint, Peter knowing things™, pregnancy mentions, babies, talk of babies, oh, and Mayday's here, too!

All characters stated in NSFW situations in my fics are all aged up or of age.

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

"Oi, like this." Hobie laughed at the toddler sitting on his chest, staring down at him as he laid on the carpet of he and his girlfriend's shared flat.

"Ho..." He started.

"Hoooo..." Mayday coo'd.

"Bieeee." He smiled, his mouth spread in a wide grin.

"Beeeeeee!" She squealed, clapping her pudgy little hands.

"Now say it: Hobie."

"Hah-buh." Mayday giggled.

"Ah, close enough ya li'le runt!" Hobie laughed, sitting up so Mayday was laying in his lap, tickling her little rolls on her tummy. "Ya lucky you're so cute, kid!"

Mayday grabbed his shirt and pulled herself up, looking at him with a happy smile, her unruly red-brown hair bobbing.

Hobie sighed as he looked down at her, huffing a small chuckle. "I swear, if I--"

"Had one of your own?" Peter B grinned, leaning on the pillar that was in between the kitchen and living room.

"Uh--" Hobie coughed awkwardly. "I wasn't..."

"Hey, man, I'm not surprised Mayday would make you want one of your own." Peter laughed, walking over and scooping up his young daughter.

"My little girl here seems to give people baby fever! Must be her mom's genes or something! Or maybe... Just that cute little face! Om nom nom!" Peter grinned, pretending to nibble on Mayday's cheeks, earning a loud squeal as she kicks and squirms from her father's affections.

Peter chuckled and tucked her safely into the chest harness, smirking at Hobie as he stood.

"You notice how Jess got pregnant not too long after I asked her to watch Mayday? I mean, it could be a coincidence... Or canon event."

Hobie groaned at his word usage, handing Peter the diaper bag. "Ugh, you sound like the ol' stiff at HQ."

"Hey, just making a joke. I gotta compensate for Miguel's lack of humor somehow."

Hobie shoved his hands in his pockets, sighing as he looked off to the side.

Peter put his hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Seriously... Are you thinking about having a baby?"

"I mean..." Hobie struggled, his jaw tensing. "I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't, but..."

"You're not sure you wanna bring it up with your girl?" Peter supplied, Mayday's tiny hand gripping his fingers.

"I mean, Pete, we're not even hitched." Hobie shrugged.

"Not all couples need to be married before having a runt of their own."

"Yeh, yeh..." Hobie sniffed, trying to sound bored.

"All right, I'm heading out. See ya, Hobie. I owe ya one." Peter grinned.

"That ya do, bruv."

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

When you came home, Hobie was sitting on the settee by the window, strumming idle notes on his guitar, bobbing his head to a tune only he could hear.

You dropped your purse and keys on the dining table next to the door, and slipped off your shoes.

Slowly, you dragged your feet over to the sofa opposite of the settee Hobie was currently perched on.

"You 'right, luv?" Hobie asked, setting the guitar down and walking over to kneel next to the sofa.

"Work sucked." You groaned into the cushions.

Hobie put his hand around the back of your neck and started to massage the tension there with the pads of his fingers, urging a gentle sigh from you as you turned your head to look at him.

"Better?"

"Very much so."

Hobie grinned at you, and barely gave you a moment before picking you up and swinging you in a circle, earning a shriek and laugh from you.

"Hobie! You shit!" You laugh, slipping your arms around his neck as he set you on your feet, looking up at him with those big gorgeous eyes.

"Had to see you laugh, luv." Hobie said, leaning down to bury his face in your neck, breathing into your perfume. "Laughter is the best medicine, as they say."

You sigh and relax into the embrace, a gentle pause in the conversation.

"Where's Mayday? You said you were watching her for Peter, today."

"He came 'n got her." Hobie mumbled.

"...What's wrong?" You ask, reaching up to flick one of his large fluffy dreads.

".... Nothin'."

"Hobie Brown, it is not nothin'." You say suspiciously, pulling back so he looked you in the eyes. "What's on your mind? You can talk to me, babe."

"Yeah, but..." Hobie looked at the carpet in hesitation.

"Hobie..." You prod.

"I..." Hobie suddenly felt a paralyzing feeling seize his gut. He could face Osborne's oppressive regime with a grin, can of paint, and a middle finger straight up... But this? This topic was...

"Sweetheart." You say, touching his cheek.

"Do y' wanna have a baby?" He blurted.

You blink up at him owlishly.

"What?"

"I... Shit." Hobie groaned, separating from you as he marches back and forth, a hand to his head.

"Hobie--"

"Nah, nah, forget I said anything. I just..." He stood, his back to you, his shoulders slumped defeatedly.

"They'd look good, y'know? If we had a kid. Cute. Your eyes, your smile. That giddy li'le laugh o' yours. I just... Dealing with Mayday feels... I d'nno. I just..."

"Hobie... Are you saying you... You want to have a baby? With me?" You ask softly, touching his shoulder.

"Yeah."

You chew the inside of your cheek, thinking.

Fuck it.

"...All right. We can handle it. I make enough money, we have enough room..." You start rattling off stuff, going into planning mode.

Hobie looked at you, his jaw dropped as you started muttering to yourself. It sounded like you were already four steps ahead, planning out budgets, where to get stuff for a baby, working on a schedule that you can juggle with work after the baby is born...

He felt his head catch in his throat as he watched you put your hand to your chin, a gesture you often made when you were putting serious thought into something.

He grinned widely, grabbing you by the waist and practically tackling you onto the sofa.

"Wha--Hobie! I was thinking!" You protest.

"I know." Hobie says, claiming your mouth in a hungry, heated kiss.

The passion of which he moved robbed you of breath. He pulled your hair out of its confines, rubbing his fingers through the silken strands, the healed callouses on his fingertips finding refuge there among the softness.

When he pulled away, he smirked at you, his dark eyes alight with a spark. A spark you knew well.

A spark that meant Hobie was up to no good.

"H-Hobie--" You gulp.

"Ay, you got me all in a sitch here, yeh?" Hobie grinned. "Can't jus' say all that, look at me with those big eyes and not expect me to wanna..."

His other hand went to your jeans, tugging the button out of the loop and pulling the zipper down, his body slipping off the couch to kneel between your legs, tugging the denim down your hips and tossing the fabric onto the coffee table. He didn't bother with your socks.

He smirked with satisfaction when he saw the damp patch in the lace of your panties.

"Been thinkin' about me, luv?" He hummed, looking up at you. "Work have you that stressed? Need a lil' relief?"

His fingers slid up your bare thighs, teasing the edges of the panties that hugged the plush of your thighs, and you shuddered.

"You... Ugh, I don't know what to do with you." You groaned, dropping your head back, sighing at the ceiling.

"Oh, but I know what to do with you." Hobie purred, pushing the damp fabric aside, blowing a cool puff of air over your damp slit.

You shivered. "You little..."

You wished your voice didn't sound so breathy.

"You always do that! Why--" The moment you looked down and met his eyes, his mouth latched straight onto your clit, growling and sending a wave of vibrations that made your toes curl and a shocked mewl tear from your throat as the piercing in his tongue added extra sensations.

One of Hobie's favorite hobbies was to eat you out. He could sit for hours and do it, licking and kissing until you couldn't feel your limbs from how overstimulated you became.

Your taste was probably the only hard "drug" he could ever imagine getting addicted to.

He licked a broad fat stripe up, then down, bringing his thumb to push against your clit as he delved his almost-too-long tongue into your hole, writhing and pressing, rolling and tugging as your muscles attempt to draw him further.

He pulled his tongue out and licked upwards, pushing not one, but two of his fingers inside of you, curling them upwards as his other hand pressed down on the lowest part of your belly in tandem with each crook of his digits and flick of his tongue.

You writhed, hands going to tug at the bushy dreads on his scalp.

"Hobie--fuck!" You cried out, rolling your hips to meet him, your orgasm already beginning to swell, burning low in your belly.

"Go on, luv. Cum f' me." Hobie growled, pressing his piercing up at your clit, his chin already dripping with your juices.

You whine, a hiccup bubbling out of you as he adds a third finger, thrusting them in and out of you at a pace that had the edges of your vision going fuzzy.

"Hobie!" You cry out, arching your back into him as he fucks you with his tongue and hands, pressing down on your skin to make the sensations more intense; your orgasm cresting and shattering your dam of restraint.

You dropped, limp onto the cushions as Hobie sucked his fingers clean, licking his lips and wiping his chin dry, licking up the remainder of your slick that was still on his face.

"Right, luv. Let's get down to business." He chuckled, climbing over on top of you, hastily unbuckling the belt, tugging his torn jeans down his hips, his boxers going along with, revealing how eager he was for you.

"We can get hitched after the baby is born, yeh?"

Pt: 2: Link

[thevisualvamp]

The light

[the-kr8tor]

Imagine the twins grow up a little let’s say 5 years old and they ask the most random questions it would be so funny? Like “why happens if the earth stops spinning?” “Why is the water blue?” “How does snow happen” and obviously “how are babies made?”

Cuteeee!!! Thank you for requesting! 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader, Dad! Hobie AU, Twin AU, Billie and Ramona AU, Mom! Reader. FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The twins have gotten good at sneaking, scarily good. You have no idea how they've gotten this great at sneaking and bypassing Hobie's spidey senses but you have a hunch that they heard your conversation with Hobie during what was supposed to be their nap time. With his head on your lap and your fingers scratching at his scalp he dishes out a complaint to you, well you both thought it was just you.

Hobie was complaining that his spidey senses can't feel when the three of you approach him from behind. Citing that it has probably been ignoring you and the girls because it's used to your presence and dubs you and his girls a non-threat. He has also grumbled that it only activates for you three when there's danger; like the girls almost falling from the playground or you almost burning yourself from a hot stove. He's deeply annoyed because he misses the little tingles that never fail to make him smile whenever you or his girls are near.

You take this new information into consideration, when you enter a room he's in, you always call his name or knock on the wall so he still gets that warm feeling when you're in his presence. Unfortunately for him, the girls have better ideas.

Both girls keep popping up from somewhere when you least expected it, their footfalls silent, guess they've learned from the best. Then suddenly you hear their voices asking about life's greatests mysteries.

Once, while you were preparing their bath, Billie appears behind you, asking why water in the pool and ocean are blue but not in the tub. You almost fell in the water back then.

A few times the girls have materialized in Hobie's workshop, scaring the crap out of their father. Again asking him a barrage of questions that has Hobie answering promptly of course.

The sun is just about setting, the backyard looks gorgeous in the sun's rays. The metal bench is cold underneath you but with Hobie's arms around you, you don't seem to mind the chill.

You and Hobie cuddle outside in the garden, laps covered in the same patchwork blanket you've gifted him all those years ago. The breeze picks up and you snuggle closer to him, he presses sweet kisses on your temple as his hands rub up and down over your arm. The girls are in the living room watching their cartoons, the telly's light shines in the backyard, illuminating the flowers and veggies all four of you planted.

It's quiet, too quiet.

“How does the telly work?” Mona’s sweet voice rings out in the silence making you and Hobie jump in each other's arms.

“Fu–blo–what?!” Hobie saves himself from accidentally swearing right in front of Mona.

She peeks out from the arm rest, too small to fully reach up, her eyes are curious, hair disheveled from lounging on the settee.

“How does the telly work?” She repeats.

“Oh, lovely, you scared us a bit. Come here” you pat the seat in between you and Hobie. He lifts her up, placing her on his lap.

“Curious, eh?” Hobie pokes her side, she giggles, snuggling closer to her dad.

—

“I've finally got them to go down” you flop yourself on the dining chair, eyes growing heavy. “Remind me not to give them ice cream before bed.”

Hobie wipes his hands on a cloth, the last bit of dishes all cleaned and drying on the rack. He flings the towel on his shoulder, knowing what the imagery does to you.

Before he could throw a witty remark, you're already making grabbing hands towards him, lips pouting from impatience. He obliges, crossing the small gap between you.

You grab him by the ribbon of his sweatpants to get him impossibly closer to you. He's situated in-between your legs, knees knocking with yours. He chuckles lowly, hands placed on your jaw to look at you fully, his thumbs rubbing softly at your tired eyes.

“Missed me? I was home the entire day, lovie”

“Shut up and kiss me, Hobart”

Hobie rolls his eyes, already bending at the waist to meet you halfway.

“How are babies made?” Billie and Mona suddenly appear by the kitchen doorway, holding hands in their blue pajamas. They remind you of a horror movie.

Your soul and Hobie's left your bodies for a second.

“Girls–you scared us!” you clutch your non-existent pearls.

Hobie's head is on top of yours, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Sorry,” Mona apologizes, “Annie said they came from storks but Shane says they came from fairies.”

“And Ricky says they come from parents sleeping together. Daddy always sleeps with you mummy, why isn't there a baby yet?” Billie continues.

Oh childhood wonder. Your brain is already trying to find the right combination of words to answer their burning question.

Hobie chokes on air, you slap his arm as a warning. He lifts his head up with a lopsided smile.

“If you sneaky sneaks didn't interrupt there'd be a baby soon enough—”

“Hobie!”

“We don't get it” they simultaneously say.

[orcasoul]

Joel Miller Head-cannons

Joel's reaction when you tell him you're pregnant.

As soon as those words leave your lips, the world halts on it's axis. A rush of emotions overwhelm Joel: fear, anger, guilt, worry, disbelief. His knees buckle under his own weight and he lands on the dining room chair with a thump. Clasping his hands together, and leaning his forehead onto his thumb knuckles, a string of "No,no,no," leaves his lips in barely there mumbles.

This can't be happening. He can't be a dad again. So many thoughts race through his mind, all worse case scenarios. Would he be able to protect you both? Would the baby be taken from him, like Sarah was? Would you die in childbirth? His temples begin to throb in time with his thundering heartbeat.

Your hand on his shoulder and nervous whisper of his name results in Joel recoiling from your touch as if you had burned him. The look of complete devastation on your face causes Joel's heart to plummet and his stomach to twist up in knots. He know's he's hurt you but he can't focus on that right now. Not when all he can see in his minds' eye is the image of his bloodied daughter, lifeless in his arms.

Before he even realises it, his feet are leading him out the front door and straight to the Tipsy Bison to numb the pain. However, a few drinks in, realisation hits Joel like a freight train; He left you. He abandoned you in your hour of need. He races home to find you crying silent tears on the settee. You won't even look at him!

He drops to his knees in front of you, clasping your hands, tenderly. After a lengthy and very emotional discussion - where he apologises, profusely and exposes his deepest fears to you - you both fall into each other's arms, crying and promising each other that everything will be okay.

The months go by and Joel's already protective nature hit's new heights. He always has a hand at the small of your back when outside, he even holds your arm in a death grip while walking over snow and ice. He keeps a close watch over you at social events, knowing how alcohol can lead to carelessness and is ready to spring at the first sign of trouble.

He told Maria and the council that under no circumstances are you to be rostered for patrol, he won't even let you carry anything - even if it's light - insisting that he and Ellie can do it. When the birth is imminent, Joel is a bag of nerves! He watches the medical team like a hawk, refusing to be more than an arm's length away from you. He may be overbearing but he doesn't care. He'll do all he can to ensure both you and the baby get through this, safe and sound.

Hours later, Joel cradles his tiny newborn son in one arm and has you tucked under his other, his heart bursting with emotions he can hardly contain. You're both here with him, safe and healthy. His anxieties about the unknown still linger, and always will reside in the recesses of his brain. But now, with you, his son, Ellie and Tommy all safe in the fortress of Jackson, Joel begins to believe that maybe, if you want it bad enough, happiness can still be found, even in a damn apocalypse.

[punderdome]

The Fine Print: Chapter 9

Summary: An important guest arrives at the House of Hope to meet with Tav.

[AO3]

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 9: The Tutor

Tav’s maid staff woke her up early as she slept in Raphael’s bedchamber.

“Wake, my Lady, the Master of the House has asked you be washed and dressed early this morning.”  Tav sat up, still completely naked, and a simple cotton robe was immediately handed to her to wear.  “Your bath is ready, and breakfast will be served as soon as you are done washing.”

Something was odd.  For the last two tendays since the conclusion of their honeymoon, the servants would always let her sleep until her body awoke naturally, whatever time of day that was, which was usually just before midday.  Today, Tav was on some sort of schedule but had no ideas as to what the agenda might be.

It was a completely foreign experience to be rushed into a bath in the Archduke’s bathchamber attended by servants to wash and comb her hair and quickly dressed into a corset and chemise.  She was adorned with a simple, unembroidered linen gown in a rich navy.  Her curls were pinned neatly into a knot at the crown of her head while still damp, though every moment they dried, they threatened to burst free into chaos.

She followed a maid to the dining hall where a simple breakfast of eggs, bread, and cheese awaited her.  A cup of kaeth with milk followed shortly as she ate.

“What is going on?” Tav inquired.

“The Master of the House requested it,” and she was given no further insights by the staff.

She was rushed hurriedly to the archive and bid to wait on one of the settees near the stacks for further instructions.  Kilzare was hiding, and Tav could immediately see his form cowering in a corner behind his desk.  Whatever was happening, it wasn’t likely to be good.

The door to the archive suddenly opened, and Raphael entered, followed by a devil she didn’t recognize.

“My Lord,” Tav started uncertainly, giving a small curtsy.  She had no idea who the guest was that followed her husband, it was entirely possible he was a high-ranking devil in the Infernal court.  Formality was prudent.

He had narrow eyes with dark sclerae.  His irises were so dark they appeared almost black.  He had wings that bore holes in a guise of wanting to indicate age for an immortal being.  His skin was a bright red, much like Raphael’s, but the hair on his head and facial hair had twinges of white that betrayed his desire to show an elder status.  He didn’t have the musculature of her husband, seeming more frail and fine.  He held a large tome in his clawed hands that was mostly covered by a thick black cloak that wrapped around his body like a shield. He wore thin golden spectacles.  Tav knew enough of Infernal culture to recognize that this was a glamor.  He was something else entirely.  Something likely unknowable.

This definitely wasn’t good.

“My dearest, I have a gift for you.”  Raphael was smug and grinning with anticipation.  Tav breathed a sigh of relief.  “I am pleased to make an introduction.  This is Atmos Malrai, Infernal master and your new tutor on Infernal language.  He is brought into my service and will instruct you daily.”

Tav curtsied.  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Malrai.”

The language master ignored her pleasantries and set the tome he carried down on a table in the archive.

“Well then,” he motioned for Raphael to depart, and surprisingly, her dear husband left without complaint.  “Let us begin.”

The devil Atmos Malrai wordlessly discarded his cloak before giving a quick snap whereupon it disappeared and probably ended up in some kind of Infernal coat closet, but Tav wasn’t entirely sure, having never needed the services of an Infernal coat closet herself.

“ Xe mijy tuzuyw, kfz la mafwyw,” he barked at her.  Tav swallowed.  Infernal language could be many things: confusion, knowledge, information, inquiries, or deception.  Tav listened intently to the rest of the riddle.  His sentence was given at such a low pitch that it could have been mistaken for growling broken up by harsh consonants.  He gave the red herring, but the riddle was clear to her.  His devil form towered over her as he spoke.

“A map,” Tav responded to his riddle.  “ Xe pie,” she hissed aggressively back into his face.

A smile twisted on his lips.  “Dajydh.” and Tav realized immediately for the compliment that it was from a master.

Their spar continued for another few hours.  Atmos would growl at her in Devilish or Ancient Infernal, and Tav hissed at him in return with any of her knowledge of the language available to her.  He posed riddles and conundrums, and she met him back at every challenge.  After the first few blows, she still tried to win their spars but figured it was more important to be correct in the sense of her original argument - the only thing that truly mattered was that she continued to fight the fight of their tongues and not the actual result.  Her Tiefling Infernal met his Ancient Infernal in a battle of wills.  Her Tiefling Infernal bent and twisted into a new beast altogether every time she met his challenges again and again, as she listened to the differences and pitfalls within the language.

This wasn’t Lanceboard, it was something greater.  It was a clash of ideas and language.  It was a tournament that Tav felt compelled to see through to the end regardless of how many times she was outmatched.  The elder devil sparred like a Lanceboard grandmaster she was unlikely to best, though she would try until the end to find a way to fight for her own small victories.

Atmos posed some sort of incredibly difficult Infernal question that gave Tav pause for an uncomfortably long time.  He seemed content to wait indefinitely for her reply.  She ordered a cup of tea from a servant and sat to think over the real meaning of the phrase he gave her, and how to respond to it.   

Many possible answers to Atmos’s riddle seemed to swirl in front of her.  Every contemplation led to slight flurries of snow cascading from her fingertips.  The snowflakes were almost immediately consumed in the heat of Avernus and left to drip idly from her fingertips to the floor. She was marked by ice but her answer was filled with fire as Tav responded to him.

“ Wuwvap.  Wisdom.”

“ Ultryvukdy zidylz.   Quite well done.”  Atmos circled her, investigating her every being as she sat dripping in nervous sweat and sorcerous snowflakes.  It had been hours of discussion, but she was still a normal mortal with normal mortal needs of food and rest.  

“Caring to observe your mortal prey?” Tav challenged in Common tongue as Atmos studied her.

“I’m surprised that any would call you prey,” his response was direct.  There was a snap, and her tutor was gone, presumably returning to his quarters.  She was stunned.  She fiddled with the blank pages and unused inkpots on the desk, unsure of what to do next.  For how exhausted she was, rest seemed like a satisfactory choice.  It had to be almost dinner time or well past it by now.

“My Lady,” a valet arrived in the archive and addressed her.  “The Master of the House has requested to be seated for dinner, if you have completed your tutoring session.”

“Yes, of course,” Tav replied, completely unsure of how to communicate anything about her first tutoring session with Master Malrai.  They had not discussed finer points or grammar.  They sparred like she was at a training ground spitting Infernal runes at a training dummy and trying to knock it over with the harsh consonants of the language of the Hells.

Tav went to her room to clean herself up before dinner.  She splashed cool water on her face.  She wondered what kind of instruction she would receive the next day.  Would he sit down with her like she was a school child or would it be all verbal?  How many years would she be studying with him?

When she was done making herself presentable, she met Raphael in the dining hall.

“My dearest Mouse, please,” he motioned to the chair next to him.  “Tell me, how was your first tutoring session with Malrai?” He grinned magnanimously as he grabbed food from the table in front of them.

“It was challenging, but I enjoyed it,” Tav said with a smile.  “He brought me to the edge of all of my skills, I assume it was an initial assessment.”

“It was, he will report to me on your progress.  You impressed him, but I expected nothing less from you, my love.”  Raphael’s voice was filled with pride.  “He will work with you on your vocabulary and grammatical structure.”

“Where did he come from?” Tav inquired about the bespectacled, glamored master.

“I purchased his services from Malbolge.  It was too easy to acquire him from Glasya, she relies too often on seduction rather than wisdom.”  Tav knew there had to be more to the story, and it was something to inquire about with Kilzare later, provided he was finished cowering in front of Atmos Malrai.

It was convenient timing that now she was trying to find a loophole to end her contract, she was receiving instruction from an Infernal master.  Though she would have to be exceptionally careful at how often or in depth she received any instruction on the termination of a paterfamilias pact.

“What were lessons in Ancient Infernal like when you were younger?” Tav inquired curiously, definitely expecting that Devil education took decades or centuries while humans were only instructed in advanced education for a few years.  The very idea of Raphael sitting in a classroom with a professor or living in a crowded university dormitory was laughable.

“I perfected my Infernal law craft over a few centuries, working with various masters to adapt to different styles of writing,” Raphael answered proudly.

“How long will Master Malrai be instructing me?” Tav was enthusiastic about continuing to learn for several reasons.  If she managed to get proper instruction in the language, she could likely return to the university and make real progress on her research.  Her former colleagues wouldn’t be able to laugh at her anymore now that she was the Savior of Baldur’s gate, defeated a Netherbrain, and received individual instruction in the Hells themselves.  She would just conveniently leave out the part about the accidental marriage.

“As long as you wish.  Since you won’t age, it could be millennia.  Malrai is permanently contracted to my service.  He will be a great asset to my rule regardless whether or not he is still instructing you.”  Raphael took a sip of his wine.  “Glasya will regret the day she sold his services to me.  She does not fully appreciate his value.”

“What did you find most difficult about learning Infernal law?” Tav inquired.  Raphael was being unusually open about his youth, as he usually pretended that his early centuries never existed, but that was to be expected given that his father was Mephistopheles.

He studied her curiously.  “The most difficult piece of Infernal law is learning to secure layers of redundancy in sealing an agreement to retain a favorable position.  Many contracts I make are quite simple agreements where I present a boon in exchange for a soul, but others can be significantly more complex, requiring significant planning to close all loopholes.”

“Much like a game of Lanceboard, then,” Tav observed.  “I have seen how you approach it.”

“Are you trying to learn my secrets for Lanceboard, beloved Mouse?” Raphael teased.  She smiled.

“I want to maintain a favorable position the next time we play Lanceboard when nudity is at stake,” Tav responded with a smirk.  Raphael laughed.

“For that, I maintain a superior position by being more heavily dressed.”

“Here, I thought devils were supposed to be fair in their dealings,” Tav retorted, raising an eyebrow.

Raphael smiled, clearly enjoying the banter.  “I am always fair in my dealings.  When we play Lanceboard, the transaction is simple: one victory for one item of clothing.  I always make sure to start from a stronger position.”

“Then the next time we play, I’ll be sure to secretly wear every single pair of stockings in my wardrobe,” Tav challenged.

“Then I will be glad to slip them down your thighs, pair by pair,” her husband growled in response with a mischievous grin.  “Are you challenging me to a game?”

“I could be persuaded.”  Raphael stood and offered Tav his hand, she took it and they returned to his bedchamber.

Raphael finished claiming all of her items of clothing from her body, shimmying her smallclothes down her thighs.  Tav maintained a firm grip on the doublet she had taken from him.

***

Tav made sure to wake early to wash and dress before her first day of true instruction.  She gathered extra ink, quills, and parchment to bring to the archive.  She felt like a young scholar on her first day of university, where the corridors hummed with excitement for arcane knowledge.

Her first day at the university when she was a young adult was strange and foreign.  The wizards around her stared and gawked.  She had never had true, formal instruction in magic before, as the Weave seemed to bend and move to her will without verbal or somatic components or sometimes the wrong ones entirely.  She was the only sorceress at the school and an object of curiosity.  The lack of formal education did not help her in any class that required significant amounts of book learning.  Her practicals on using the spells felt simple to her, and whatever they asked for she could cast without much study.

Tav was at the top of the class with respect to all practical uses of magic in all schools but near the bottom in the formal classes on magical history or knowledge of various components for the creation of new spells or potions.  Her classmates tended to be unfriendly, regardless of how much charm Tav would put into her conversations.  Requests to study or practice together tended to be met with coldness.

With the scales on her body, there was no way to conceal her abilities as a sorceress and pretend to be just another middling arcane student with a strength for application and a weakness in book work.  One of the instructors in Infernal magic was sympathetic to her plight, given that he too had experienced the coldness of wizards, being a Tiefling.  He taught her about Hellfire and taught her fluent Infernal language, reigniting a desire to learn.

Tav had a hard time making friends.  In one of her courses she met a young human wizard specializing in Conjuration magic who seemed to enjoy her company, and he brought her around to meet his friends and other classmates, and he made her feel included and welcome amongst the wizardkind.  The two of them dated for several weeks. 

He broke up with her the morning after they first lay together and gloated to his friends that he won their competition to be the first to fuck the draconic slut.  Tav felt humiliated that he was the one that took her virginity.

Some of the wizards in her class were gleeful in their taunts that she had scales on her inner thighs and would happily show them to anyone who asked.  Someone started a rumor that she had fucked all of the Dragonborn employees and students at the university, which led to a series of humiliating meetings at the Archmage’s office, trying to validate the veracity of the claims.

It was much easier to fall back into the library alone and apply herself completely to her studies.  They could call her a slut all they wished, but at the end of it, she had power within that they could never learn.  She could cast while Silenced and double her spells to hit multiple targets with ease.  The wizards who first challenged her during combat sparring practicals quickly learned not to underestimate her, though they made it clear to the professors that they felt she was cheating anytime she Shielded herself from Magic Missile or twinned Witch Bolt.  The attacks of their familiars seemed to break themselves on icy draconic skin and be returned in retribution.  She was confident that she would not fall or bend to them, no matter how many times they tried to discredit her.

Tav laid out her supplies on a desk in the archive, waiting patiently for Master Malrai.  Kilzare was anxiously pacing around his desk.

“Why are you so nervous?” Tav inquired.  “He isn’t here to instruct you.  I’m the only one here who could make him displeased.”

Kilzare stood aghast.  “You don’t know who Master Atmos Malrai is?” he asked incredulously.

“No, why?” Tav waited for an explanation.

She heard a snap and the arrival of the Infernal tutor behind her.  Kilzare immediately fled deep into the belly of the archives and didn’t return.

“Master Malrai,” Tav curtsied.  Once again, he ignored the pleasantries.

He took a seat at the large wooden desk that Tav had prepared as a work surface.  She sat on the opposite side.  Atmos placed the large tome he carried on the center of the desk with a loud thud.  He flipped to a specific page and turned the contents to her.

“Read aloud,” he instructed.  Tav read the pointed paragraph aloud in Infernal.  Atmos studied her intently as she read.  It was a section of the histories on Dispater and his careful, calculated rule of Dis.

“What do you make of this passage?” Atmos asked her.

“It seems sparse with description, only describing Dispater’s growing paranoia in his control of the Iron City,” Tav answered him.

“The text is indeed more rich than you understand,” the Infernal master explained.  He pointed out word after word the subtext behind each rune, easily reading the text upside-down from the opposite side of the desk.  Tav quickly took notes, documenting the translation and mispronunciations.  When Atmos had finished his discussion, he observed her curiously.

“Why are you taking notes?” He challenged her.  “In Infernal education, the students learn to read first and then to write when they are capable of actually understanding their writing.”

“I wish to practice, Master Malrai,” Tav responded coolly.  “And it is my understanding of Infernal education that is the practice one uses to teach Infernal children.   I am not a child, though I am young by your standards.  I am capable of learning two skills simultaneously.”

The Infernal master said nothing on her note-taking practice but continued his instruction.  For hours, they spoke of the Infernal language on various pages.  By the end of their tutoring session, Tav had close to three hundred new Ancient Infernal notes to study.  Some words were long, translating into entire sentences in Common tongue, and some words were twisted and contorted with only slight changes to the runes that comprised them.

Atmos Malrai snapped the tome shut and disappeared with a snap.

Glancing at a timepiece on Kizare’s desk, it was time to dine with Raphael.  She packed up her notes and carried them with her towards the dining hall.

A modest dinner was laid out on the dining table.  Raphael stood by his chair, looking distinctly displeased.

“Husband?” Tav inquired.  “What’s wrong?”

“You deeply disrespected an Infernal master in my House,” he spat bitterly.  Raphael snapped, and the notes she had taken from the afternoon vanished from her arms in a spray of embers.  “My House is a sanctuary of order and decorum in the Hells, do I make myself clear?”  His voice rose to a deep boom and his eyes narrowed down at her.

Tav thought back to the day of instruction, searching for what had made Raphael so upset.

“The writing?” Tav asked hesitantly.  Raphael gave her an annoyed sneer.

“The insolence,” Raphael clarified, his tone biting.  Tav thought back to when she told Atmos Malrai that she wasn’t a child, and didn’t need to be taught like a child.  While she, quite distinctly, was acting like a child.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disrespect him,” Tav said, combing her fingers through her hair nervously.

Raphael raised an eyebrow.  She continued, “I didn’t mean to disrespect you and your House, husband.”

Raphael said nothing else, but sat down to dine.  Tav joined him in the chair next to him.  She could tell he was still incredibly upset.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.  I have much to learn about the decorum of the Hells,” Tav tried to offer to sate his displeasure, knowing it was likely to linger for quite some time.  Raphael seemed to relax slightly.  He served himself his food and a glass of wine.  Tav served herself a plate for dinner, and Raphael dramatically rolled his eyes before summoning a Mage Hand to pour her a goblet of wine.

“Thank you,” Tav offered shyly.

The dinner was silent.

Raphael rose from his chair.  “Well, my dearest, now you must be punished,” he said offhandedly.

Tav swallowed nervously.  He only vowed not to torture her, but she had no idea what was still left in their marriage contract that he could do.

“You are not welcome with me in my chambers tonight.  If you are a good student and good wife, then tomorrow I may summon you again.  Do not disappoint me,” Raphael challenged, though Tav could still detect a strong undercurrent of his frustration that his lust would not be satisfied that evening.

“Yes, husband,” Tav answered emotionlessly, though secretly looking forward to a good night of sleep instead of a good night of sleep after some climax-less sex.

“Dear wife, should you disobey, I shall have to spank you.”  Tav was completely unsure if he was secretly hoping she would disobey or wanting her to fall in line.

Raphael snapped his fingers, and Tav was back in her chambers.  The notes she took during her tutoring session were strewn all over the room haphazardly.  Raphael probably disorganized them intentionally.  Tav picked up the notes and carefully placed them on the table in her room.

Since she had nothing else to do, she studied them several more times before going to sleep.

*****

Tav woke the next morning ready for her studies.  She prepared herself for another day of instruction not looking forward to any amount of resentment Master Atmos Malrai may have been holding against her.

She entered the Archives and noticed that Kilzare was hiding again.  She approached the Archivist’s desk curiously.  He was still in the corner, lest the Infernal master return.

“What are you doing?” Tav asked him quickly.

Kilzare rose slowly.  “I should ask you the same thing.  I can’t believe you talked back to Master Atmos Malrai.” 

“Yes, I have already been punished by the Master of the House,” Tav started, “I don’t understand, who is he really?” 

Kilzare tapped his claws nervously on his desk.  “Master Atmos Malrai is the Infernal master who taught Infernal and law to Asmodeus’s children.   He is said to be almost as old as Infernal law itself.”

“So that’s how he found himself in Glasya’s employ?” Tav inquired, missing the point of what Kilzare was trying to communicate.

“For someone who can speak fluent Infernal at any level, you know nothing about the politics of the Hells.”  Kilzare rubbed his temples in an attempt to calm down.  “You backtalked one of the most important Infernal law masters that has ever existed.  I absolutely cannot believe you sometimes.  You are completely ridiculous.”

“Well, at least I wasn’t flayed for my efforts,” Tav offered with a smug smile, remembering that her punishment was not getting unsatisfying sex from her husband.

“If you were anyone other than the Archduchess, there is a good chance you would have been flayed,” Kilzare warned, his fingers twitching anxiously.

Tav paused, realizing just how badly she may have fractured an important relationship in the Hells.  “How angry was Master Malrai?” she inquired, her bravado starting to shrink.  She wondered what form the Infernal master took when he wasn’t in glamor.  It may have been something completely able to rend flesh from bone should she not correctly conjugate any number of Infernal verbs.

“I don’t know,” Kilzare breathed.  “If you have any sense of self-preservation, you’re going to need to keep your ego to yourself.”

“Every devil has ego,” Tav countered.

“Yes, but you are not a devil or an Infernal-born Lady, so you have no idea what you are dealing with, because you are a mortal.   Being married to the Master of the House does not make you an expert on anything in the Hells,” Kilzare was quick with his warning before scurrying off into the stacks of the archives again.

Tav’s eyes narrowed.  The taunts of her classmates rang in her ears.  Dragon children could not learn wizard craft.  Sorceresses weren’t competent enough to do arcane research.  Idiot.  Spoiled.  Cheater.  Princess.  Bitch.  Slut.

“I earned my ego, because I have real power,” Tav repeated to herself several times, her hands tensing with each repetition and cooling rapidly with a thin layer of frost.

Atmos Malrai appeared with a crack and a flurry of embers on the far side of the desk.  He looked at her curiously.  Tav straightened her skirts and sat down.

“I am ready to learn to read, as I am not ready to write just yet,” she said, holding a tight elevated posture.  The desk had been cleared of all writing utensils.  Atmos nodded.

The devil before her opened his tome, pointing at the chapter he wished her to study.

Tav started to read the Infernal runes aloud.  Atmos nodded along as she translated the passages word for word.  He corrected her vocabulary as they went, studying for hours.

Raphael seemed much happier when he met her for dinner.

“Greetings, husband,” Tav offered, exhausted after a full day of study.  She was growing increasingly weary of reading about Dispater.

“My dearest, I had a report that your behavior was much improved today.  I’m glad you took my admonishment and punishment to heart,” he grinned, beckoning her forward.

“I did, Raphael,” Tav murmured, as her husband tightly wrapped his arms around her and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

“See, you are rewarded when you are obedient, my dear Mouse.  I will welcome you to my chambers again after we dine,” Raphael purred.

Tav sighed.

***

Tav arrived for instruction in the archive the following morning, still aching from the full force of Raphael’s lust.  Kilzare was making himself scarce in the stacks, but was slowly ceasing to cower in front of her tutor.  He was probably falling behind in his work, being unable to perform his duties while hiding under a desk.

Tav sat at her spot at the desk and waited for the Infernal master.  He arrived in a flurry of embers.  Atmos took a seat across from her, absent the tome he typically carried.

“So tell me, Lady Tavara, of your education on Prime Material,” Atmos adjusted his spectacles and leaned back in the chair.

She cocked an eyebrow, unsure of why an Infernal master would care about a mortal’s education.  Tav recounted her informal arcane education prior to her admission to the university.  She told him of her Tiefling instructor and interest in Hellfire magic.

“It is highly unusual for a sorceress to seek a wizard’s arcane university, is it not?” he inquired, though clearly already knowing that it was, in fact, quite unusual.

“Yes, it is unusual.  Many sorcerers are content to be limited by the power imparted by their bloodlines, but I always knew I could learn more than what was gifted to me by my ancestors.”

“Then tell me, why the interest in the power of the Hells?” Atmos spoke softly.  He was studying her.  She wondered if he took such an interest in every fiend he had tutored.

“I guess you could say that I have a particular interest in learning about ancient powers,” Tav unconsciously tapped her fingers over the patch of scales on her cheek.

“When you finished your studies, how did you apply your knowledge on Prime Material?”  Again, Tav knew that Atmos was briefed thoroughly on her life, and he was likely testing to see how honest she would be or how much she would embellish her accomplishments.

“I took a research position at a different university, the one in Baldur’s Gate.  I was hired on as a junior researcher with a specialty in Infernal magic.”  Tav’s fingernails clicked randomly on the wood of the desk, and her fidgeting did not escape her tutor’s eye.  He cocked a slight smile.

“Why did they hire you?” Atmos challenged.  Tav froze both in action and magic.

She deadpanned.  “Because I am magic incarnate.”

Atmos let out a deep and booming laugh, grinning from ear to ear.  “Mortal universities do take pride in having exotic pets, do they not?”  Tav swallowed, realizing that he understood the dark vein of seriousness beneath her answer.

Tav had several offers to join research faculty at various universities around Faerun.  Sorcerers were very rare, and ones with a wizard education even more so.  Her lineage was worn directly on her face, her power unmistakable.  She was always invited to balls and fundraising efforts for the university.  She was paraded around to various events to show the patriars of the Upper City how prestigious the faculty were.

Tav knew of the rumors floating around by the students and some of the other faculty that she had received her position by fucking the Archmage.  When they needed more generous patriars for university funding, she was always expected to be on his arm.  Tav would put on all of her charm and let fly a gentle storm of snowflakes that would glitter in grand halls and ballrooms, a more exotic sight than the lights of prestidigitation.

Patriars and other nobility would introduce her to their sons, eager to gain draconic blood in their family lines.  Tav was a popular draw for the attention of potential patrons to fund new laboratories or for a renovation to a crumbling dormitory that needed restoration of the stonework.  Uncharitable colleagues viewed her as a talentless whore.

Tav had been given far more patience with her lack of research progress than the faculty in other fields.  They were making real strides forward in spell development and increasing the efficiency of alchemical formulae.  Tav was floundering with a substandard grasp of Infernal knowledge and brought to balls to dance with prospective patrons.  She was there to make the university money and not to be a real academic asset.

Tav thought closely about her research into Hellfire and bitterly about how naive she had been to think she could research it from Prime Material without the aid of the fiends that resided in the Hells.  She had an opportunity to learn an entirely different field, and one that could set her genuinely apart at any university on the Mortal Planes.

“Would you be willing to teach me Infernal law in addition to Infernal language?” Tav requested, unsure of what Atmos would say based on the contents of his contract with Raphael.

Atmos snapped and several large tomes in both Infernal and Common tongue lay on the desk in front of her.  There was a book on logical reasoning and another on Faerunian contracts.  The books in Infernal were tomes similar to the Canian law tome that Raphael read to her the night of their Wedding Feast, but far more general and likely to provide a broader foundation.

Atmos grinned from ear to ear.  “Well then, Lady Tavara, shall we begin?”