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aemondtargaryenonlyfans · 2 months

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SHADOWS PLAY ON IDLE HANDS.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x (ex-)wife!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; oral (fem receiving), p in v, missionary position, unprotected sex, creampie, spitting, tiddy sucking, making up sex, angst (?)

WORDS: 4.3 K

NOTES: Based on this request. Thank you so much, @multyfangirl! 🥰 This is not beta read!

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

Was it silly of you to think that they’d assign a cabin to all the female supervisors to share back when you signed up to supervise your daughter’s summer camp? Most definitely, because otherwise you wouldn’t be sharing it with your ex-husband right now.

Technically, he’s your soon-to-be ex-husband, considering the divorce hasn’t yet been finalized, but still, he’s the last person you want to share a cabin with.

It’s night four, and you two haven’t done much talking up until now. With it being a summer camp for children in the kindergarten age, your days are quite busy which allows you to stay away from him as much as possible.

Unless it’s time for you to go to sleep.

Walking through the cabin, you go to fetch your pajamas, ready to retire for the night. Aemond lies in his bed, a book in his hand. So far, he’s pretending to not hear you to not acknowledge you, and you’re kind of grateful for it, because it means you don’t have to watch your every move around him.

Although you’ve been together and married for quite a few years, it does feel like you’re living around a stranger ever since you both came to the conclusion to separate five months ago, him moving out of the house quite early probably playing a big part in it.

The divorce certainly would settle sooner, if it wasn’t for your daughter, and you both don’t want to make it more traumatizing for her like it already is.

His voice is somewhat soft when it cuts through the silence, speaking your name and making you flinch and stop on your way to a little nook to get changed in private.

You can’t deny the warmth that spreads through your body at the sound of it. “Mh?” you raise your brow, looking at him from over your shoulder.

Despite his lingering eye secretly watching you, he turns his gaze back to the book in his hand. “I need to ask you a question,” he says almost nonchalantly, trying to keep his voice quieter so as to not disturb the silence that surrounds you.

The mixed signals make you frown, and you shrug your shoulders before disappearing in the little nook. “Don’t really have a choice, do I?” you state rather matter-of-factly than asking. There comes no reply from him, obviously waiting until you're back in view.

As you emerge from the cranny, you’re dressed in one of his older band shirts that reach your mid-thighs, covering the short, pink shorts you wear. You still sleep in his clothes, despite you separating quite a few months ago, a habit you had picked up pretty early into your relationship. The memories you connect with his old t-shirts always manage to lift up your spirits, remembering the good old days.

It’s obvious he tries to keep himself occupied with the book, the slight struggle always drawing his eye back towards you. There’s some nostalgia seeing you dressed in his old stuff as well as the shorts only you can get away with wearing.

Heat spreads on your cheeks as you walk towards your bed, slipping under the covers so his eye would finally stop devouring you. You’re not one to start arguments, especially with the summer camp having barely started, but you know there are some unresolved issues between you two that he’s dying to talk about. “Your question, Aemond?”

And then he finally closes his book, placing it on the nightstand table next to his bed to focus all of his attention on you. A shiver runs down your spine at that, and you subconsciously straighten your back.

“Do you miss me?”

The question surprises you as you don’t expect your ex-husband to ask you such an open question. You’re used to him being a bit more closed off and dismissive when it comes to your relationship, but on the other hand he was never one to beat about the bush.

You’re left speechless for a moment, until you find the courage to answer in all honesty. “Yes, I do.” There’s no denying it. Not when you’re still wearing his clothes to bed.

What you don’t expect is the simple “hm” that rumbles in his throat, clearly pleased at your hesitance, before he moves to turn away from you.

Pressing your lips into a thin line at his reaction, you rub your hands against each other. Taking in a deep breath, you sit up straighter. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right? If anything, our marriage failed because of us, not because of one person alone.”

With the light of the moon shining through the windows of your cabin, highlighting the outline of Aemond, you can spot his body tense slightly at your words, but he does not turn around to face you again.

He doesn’t speak as he takes in a breath, lying there motionless. The silence seems to stretch on for some time until it’s broken by him. “So, you don’t blame me?”

The urge to scoff at his words is hard to resist, but you manage, wanting to keep the air surrounding you as vulnerable and soft as it is right now. You shake your head, despite him not seeing it at all. “Of course not, Aemond,” you say. “Your father’s death hit us both quite hard, and with the winter fever depression on both sides we just couldn’t support each other through that period of time, I think. Maybe if we would have figured something needed to change, we wouldn’t have called it quits.”

Aemond is quickly reminded of how comfortable he’s always felt around you when you were younger and still together. He has expected that you would simply grow to despise one another completely, and not that you would take the matter into an empathic approach.

“I should have been more attentive to you,” he says as he remains facing away from you.

You’re pleasantly surprised about his answer, despite how short it is. The conversation you two are having heads down a more personal route, and it’s something you’re rather enjoying. You’re impressed by the new sense of maturity that he seems to have acquired ever since you parted ways.

“Bullshit. We should have been more attentive to each other,” you retort, your tone as empathetic as you can make it without seeming over-soft.

“That’s true,” he says. He finally turns around, his eye finding yours. “We weren’t good for each other, were we?”

“And that’s not true,” you counter. “We had our flaws, yes, but if we hadn't been good for each other, our little girl wouldn’t have turned out the way she did. She’s amazing, and that’s to our credit.”

It’s a wonder to the both of you how your daughter turned out so well in spite of all the chaos that goes on between you and your divorce, and truly shows that you two must have done something right in your relationship.

You sigh, thinking back to fond memories that make you chuckle. “Oh God, I was so cross with you during the birth. The audacity of you holding my hand and asking if I'm okay while I screamed and moaned for my life.”

The story makes him laugh. “Fuck, that was an experience. I’ll never forget you screaming ‘Do you THINK I’m okay?’ as you really squeezed the life out of me. I don’t know who was in more pain at that moment.”

Only with his narrative of the moment do you notice how amusing the memory truly is, painting the perfect picture of a couple in love in the midst of chaos.

“You scared the wits out of me,” he adds, chuckling.

Bending your legs at the knees, you make yourself more comfortable, not yet ready to fall asleep. Aemond watches you as you lick your lips. "To be fair, I really thought I’d go through it all alone, because you looked like you were going to faint when they gave me the epidural.”

You recall the sheer terror that was written all over his face as he watched you give birth to your daughter. Something you hadn’t seen before.

“To this day, I don’t think that I have ever known so many feelings at once as I did when I saw you give birth,” he says, letting his gaze wander off to the side for a moment. “But I’ve pulled myself together, because you know I would have never lived that moment down. You would have made a whole show of it.”

“Oh, most definitely. It would have been my go-to story for so many family gatherings, because no one would believe me you’d faint. Aegon? Maybe, but you? Never,” you scoff.

Aemond lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I was a real wuss during that moment. Perhaps you should have taken out your phone after the birth to record my reaction.”

You raise your brow, shooting him a glare. “That would have been an idea, because then we’d at least have some first photos of her during the check-up that don’t have me in the background naked, sweating and delivering the placenta.”

He smirks at the glare, not minding as it’s actually quite amusing to see you angry at him again for something not too serious. “That would have been a memory to remember. You, all sweaty after giving birth, and then there’s me, unconscious from seeing you give birth.”

The image makes you chuckle. “To be fair, we were quite young when that happened.”

“Too young, but we’ve worked out well enough in dealing with it, haven't we?”

You find yourself nodding in response to his words of confirmation. “Yes, in spite of all the hardships that surrounded us, we have managed quite well with her. We’ve been the best parents that we both have been able to be… together or not.” There’s a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “How’s Vhagar faring with it? Meraxes does miss her sometimes.”

Aemond smiles fondly as he hears your words, more so that you inquire of his precious girl. “She misses him dearly,” he says, but he can’t shake off the feeling that there’s more to your words than just the wellbeing of your dogs. He smiles softly, and turns his head to look at you. “Just like I miss you.”

Your body feels as if it’s on fire with his confession, and you can’t keep your gazes locked. It’s all too much and not enough at once. And when Aemond lifts his blanket, gesturing for you to crawl over to him, you know he feels the same.

“This bed is big enough for two,” he whispers.

You’ve been rather stunned at the invitation, yet, you accept it without hesitation. Climbing out of your bed and into his feels all too natural for you, and his body next to yours is a feeling you’ve come to know quite well in your past but has been missing for some time. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but there’s no discomfort or tension between you.

Keeping a fair distance from him isn’t something you master, failing the moment his scent fills your nostrils and urges you to bury your head in the crook of his neck. Snuggling up against him, you’re sure to never leave the bed the moment his arms wrap around you.

He buries his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent he’s clearly missed just as much as you missed his. The way you feel with your head resting against his jaw makes it hard for him to suppress the urge to pull you even closer to him for fear of pushing you away.

It’s just both of your breathing filling the otherwise silent room, broken as he speaks. “I missed this.”

It certainly was dangerous to get so close to him, apparent in your half-lidded eyes as you pulled back to look at him. Your gaze flickers between his and his lips, your faces but mere inches apart. “I missed this, too.”

Encouraged by your words, Aemond brings his hand to your cheek, allowing his thumb to brush over your cheekbone, his own breathing becoming heavy as he watches you.

The way you look back at him nearly causes him to lose the last bit of control he clings to as he desires you with a fire he hasn’t felt in a very long time. When his other hand comes to the back of your head and he leans in, you lick your lips which is more than enough to send him over the edge.

His hand begins to slide down your back as his thumb traces your bottom lip, heat following in its wake. And then he dips his head forward enough to capture your lips, melting against each other.

Coaxed by his hand slipping beneath the oversized t-shirt you wear, you grip the collar of his t-shirt and pull him closer to you, not daring to break the kiss. His hands are impatient to tug on the flimsy shorts you wear, and you shimmy your way out of them as he pulls them down your legs.

Your heavy breath fans over his kiss-swollen lips as you pull back from him to speak. Aemond doesn’t wait to hear your words, diving in to press his lips to your jaw and neck. “We… We should not… the divorce…” you trail off, panting heavily and suddenly well aware of how tightly you’re pressed against him.

Bringing his hands to your belly, the hem of your shirt is riled up and pooling around your waist. “It doesn’t matter,” he rasps against your skin. “Just this one night…”

You nod, letting out a soft moan as he cups your breast. “One little night of bliss…” you mewl.

It’s clear that the proximity to him gets you just as hot as he is, no longer trying to resist and giving into the feeling you’ve been fighting back for so long. There’s no resistance left in you, clearly forgetting all the bad things that have happened before. You don’t know what will happen between you two tomorrow morning or the day after that, but you can’t bring yourself to care about it at this moment.

With your hands still fisting his shirt, you pull his body between your legs, the weight of his tall frame heavy on top of you now. He ruts against you as your lips meet again, moving roughly against yours as his hard cock strains against the boxer briefs he wears. You instinctively grind against him, desperate for any kind of friction against your needy pussy.

The kiss is hardly broken as you pull the shirt over his head, exposing his alabaster skin and well toned torso, only for you to not admire it as he starts to nibble on your bottom lip.

You trace your fingers across his torso, trailing lower until they hook beneath the waistband of his briefs. “I need you,” you whine, tugging at the elastic to encourage him to slip out of it. But Aemond merely tsks at that.

“Easy there,” he drawls, mimicking your gesture with his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. He shifts to the side and pulls them down your legs, prompting you to shimmy your way out of them to help him.

The blankets have long found their way down the bed, laying in a pile right next to it, and therefore you gasp when the cold air hits your soaked core.

Aemond gets back between your legs again, scooting back and crouching down to kiss his way up your inner thighs, draping them over his shoulders. The moan you release brings heat to your cheeks, more so when his tongue makes contact with your cunt and coaxes another one to slip past your lips.

“You’re drenched,” he remarks smugly, dark blown eye gazing up at you from between your legs.

Rolling your eyes at that, you entangle a hand into his hair and push his face down between your legs. “Don’t be such a tease now.”

Clearly not minding this bossy side at all, Aemond gets straight to the point. His lips wrap around your little bundle of nerves, and one suck of him already has you arching your back and rolling your hips like a bitch in heat. He alternates between gentle sucking and tracing it with his tongue, driving you insane

Less than half a year apart and you’ve already forgotten just how good he is at putting his mouth to work.

Two of his fingers slowly ease inside of you, expertly brushing your sweet spot in a come hither motion that has you tightly locking your legs around his head, not caring if it would crush or suffocate him. With one hand still in his hair, you tug on it not-so-gently which has Aemond groaning against your folds.

The knot in your belly tightens all too quickly with the pace he sets up, lapping and sucking at your clit in tandem with his fingers scissoring in and out of you. But it doesn’t seem like that’s what Aemond wants. Being able to read all the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, he stops his ministrations without missing a beat.

You’re baffled, the pleasure disappearing at once. When you look down at him, you spot his chin, lips and cheeks coated in your arousal, glistening in the dim light the moon casts through the windows. “W-What?” you whimper with a pout, trying to force his head back down again. But Aemond is stronger, making it clear he’s just played with you before.

Watching him lick the remnants of your arousal from his swollen lips, you can’t help but moan, liquid fire coursing through your veins and making your longing for him even more apparent.

“You don’t think I’m going to savor your first orgasm with my tongue, do you?” he asks matter-of-factly, peeling your legs off of him and sitting back on his haunches.

The breath hitches in your throat not only at his words, but also at the tip of his cock peeking from beneath the waistband of his briefs. He’s rock hard and aching, wanting to be buried inside of you.

“Five months I had to live without this sweet pussy of yours, and I won’t spend any longer not being buried inside of it.”

Staring at his throbbing cock, you bite your bottom lip and nod almost in a sheepish manner. You pulling the shirt over your head and spreading your legs is all it takes for Aemond to rid himself of his briefs, one hand curling around his shaft as the other grabs you by your hip, pulling you towards him.

He drags the bulbous tip of his cock through your drenched folds before he lines himself up with your entrance, your arousal making it easy for his thick cock to breach your tightness with little resistance.

The feeling of your pussy desperately sucking him inside until he’s buried to the hilt is a feeling of indescribable bliss that has you releasing a shaky breath in unison. Your hands fly to his shoulders for leverage, holding onto him as he towers over you, tall frame completely shielding your significantly smaller one.

“Gods, I… forgot how big you are,” you breathe, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes.

He brings a hand to your waist, and places the other next to your head, keeping himself supported as he begins to grind his hips against yours. “Hm, fuck, we’ll get you used to it again tonight, princess,” he rasps, heavy panting audible in between the words. The pet name makes you clench around him. Oh, how your body has longed for him.

You unravel beneath Aemond, arching your back and tipping your head back into the cheap pillows, the sight not making it easier for him to stay composed enough to not come on spot.

And that’s when he moves to press his chest flush against yours, holding your cheek with one hand, whilst the other grabs the side of the headboard. His lips find the side of your face, kissing along your jaw, earlobe and down the side of your neck. You have your head tilted to the side, granting him even more access as the weight of his body stops you from squirming beneath him and rolling your hips.

“Fuck, missed you so, so much,” he murmurs against your skin, drunk on your pussy. “All mine… won’t let you leave again.”

You cross your arms behind his neck, one hand entangling into his silken, silver strands. Every time you try to arch against him, your hard nipples press against his chest.

“Don’t want to,” you reply.

Whimpering and whining beneath him, Aemond’s heavy grunts and groans fan over your flushed skin, spurring you on even more. There’s no rush to his movements, the both of you clearly savoring the moment of peace and making up for all the time you’ve lost, and yet it’s enough to build the pressure within your belly again.

The sparse, coarse hairs splayed around the base of his cock and over his pubic bone drag over your sensitive clit with the ruts of his hips, sending a shiver up your spine each time. His thrusts are gentle but determined, reaching deep and expertly brushing your sweet spot, and he fucks sweet, little mewls and moans out of your throat, filling the cabin.

His thumb presses into your cheek to turn your face towards him, and you’re eagerly welcomed by his lips, capturing yours in a fervent and heated kiss. His lips move sensually against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth and alternating with his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

As he withdraws his lips from yours, a dark blown eye watching your blissed out expression, you try to chase them for yet another kiss, but he keeps your head in place. His lips are puckered slightly, and the thought of what’s to come makes your insides churn in a good way, becoming limp in your reverie.

“Show me your tongue,” he commands, and you do as he says.

Parting your lips and sticking out your tongue, you gaze up at him with wide, innocent eyes. As the warm puddle of his saliva hits it, you’re all too eager to swallow it down, moaning softly as the taste of him spreads on your tongue.

“You’re gonna come for me now?” he drawls, pressing his chest against yours and dipping his head forwards to capture your earlobe between his teeth. It’s a grazing touch, but still has goosebumps prickling on your skin.

The coil inside of you tightens quickly with all sensations hitting you at once and the deep desire to please him, and you’re once again surprised by how well Aemond knows your body, strumming it like a fiddle and always getting what he wants.

You convulse all over him with a whine, your hips grinding against his as the white, hot pleasure courses through your veins. But his thrusts don’t stutter, keeping the sensual intensity to the point you’re losing your mind.

“That’s it,” he coos through gritted teeth. “Fuck, missed the pretty face you make when you’re coming all over my cock, hm.” You’re not sure whether it’s his pubic bone still dragging over your clit, his cock still sliding in and out of you, or if his praise alone is enough to prolong your orgasm, but you feel yourself keening at his words.

It takes him a couple more thrusts that slowly bring you to the point of overstimulation, until his own orgasm washes over him. His cock is twitching and throbbing as your walls squeeze him for every drop of his seed, spending itself deep inside of your quivering walls.

Aemond fucks you both through the aftershocks, a white ring of your mixed juices forming around the base of his thick shaft. But as his jaw slackens and he moves to pull out of you, you’re quick to lock your legs around his hips and flip him onto his back, giving neither of you time to get to grips with the events that transpire between you.

The quizzical look he flashes you as you sit astride him encourages you to roll your hips against his, riding him through the overstimulation. “Maybe… maybe it would be a good idea to see someone about this,” you breathe, grabbing his hands and planting them at your waist. “A couple therapist perhaps, so we can talk through some of the issues that have come up between us, to resolve the root of all our issues…”

He sits up straight, snaking one arm around your waist to keep your body against his as his mouth finds your hard nipple, suckling and nibbling on it. The other hand fondles and gropes at your breast, squeezing it rather roughly. “Maybe that isn’t such a bad idea,” he groans against your skin, licking a flat stripe along the curve of your breast. “We…” his voice catches in this throat with you starting to ride him more fervently. “We should do that, yes.”

Neither of you is certain if the other’s words are genuine or just spoken in the heat of the moment, but it feels as though you’re seeing eye to eye in this moment. Something your relationship has been missing for a very long time. For the remainder of the night, you both seek to get what you still crave from each other, sharing countless orgasms and an unusually passionate embrace.

However, as the night comes to an end with the light of the next day breaking through the windows of the cabin, and you wake up in Aemond’s arms, you figure that there was truth to your words and that you both strive to save and improve your marriage again.

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tainted-liquor · 10 months

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'Basketball Wife'

"Back the fuck up, thank you." - Miles G. Morales Earth42!Miles Morales x Booksmart!Reader TWs: Cursing, n I think that's it Ingredients: Sugar, kisses, and a lil bit of smiles! W/C: 980? A/N: This was another request that I rlly loved working on! Enjoy luvs ꨄ

You and your boyfriend, Miles, had been dating for around 10 months or so. He didn't have the best reputation with the faculty, skipping out on certain classes, having the lowest participation score out of most of the students, and overall wasn't a very happy camper. It's not like his grades were bad, oh hell no! He just wasn't a very optimistic person and opted to fade into the background of most people's lives. Which for some reason had the opposite effect, inducing random girls and, very very rarely, boys to throw themselves at him just to say 'I know Miles.'

Now when he decided to join his school's basketball team, shit only got worse for him. He used to eat his food in the lunch room until a pool of girls decided to sit near him in an attempt to snatch his attention. This obviously pissed Miles off even more, pushing him further back into the shadows and closing himself off even more from the people around him. So he decided to eat in the library. It was empty for the most part, with about 5 students eating together and talking, one of them being you. There you sat with your group of girls, chatting away about random topics, ignoring the rather aggressive slam of the library door. For you, it was just another lunch before you went back to your classes.

As you skipped to your 5th-period class, you parted ways with your friend Kayla as you prepared to be assigned the 2-person project your teacher had gone over yesterday. You obviously weren't a fan of work, but you were excited regardless to choose your partner. So when class got started and the teacher announced he would be ASSIGNING your partners? Honey, you were pissed off. The class erupted full of irritated groans and 'Oh my god's as he listed off the names, choosing the oddest combos you'd ever heard in your life. He called your name, and then Miles as you rolled your eyes slightly. Really, you wanted to be with your best friend Amai, but you didn't have much of a choice, did you?

When the teacher finished reading off the list of pairs, everyone scattered across the room to sit next to their partner. So you moved accordingly, scooting your desk over to Miles's with a couple of noisy scrapes. He wasn't exactly rude, just didn't really seem interested. You really didn't feel like explaining what you wanted to do to someone who wasn't listening, so you just decided to compromise.

"Look, we don't have to talk at all, but at least come find me today so we can work on this project. We don't even have to speak, just correct something or write notes on the slides."

So you met every day for the next 2 weeks in the library, with Miles gradually warming up to you as you spent more time together. He went from saying 2-3 words a day to you to having full-fledged debates on random topics. Even when the project was over, he still hung around. Inviting you to watch him practice for his games, putting you on his cfs story on insta, and stationing you in the front row every time he had a basketball game without fail. So it wasn't necessarily a surprise when he asked you out.

You snuck around together for the next 10 months, not really wanting to deal with questions about each other. You had grades to keep up, and he didn't want to attract any attention. Spending minimal time together during school hours but hanging out in Miles's dorm or his house after hours, spending countless nights in each other's arms. He asked you to come to yet another one of his basketball games, to which you happily agreed to make an appearance.

You sat on the benches as you silently cheered for Miles, giving him discreet little heart signs and blowing tiny kisses in his direction every now and again. He winked at you, and no sooner than he did you heard a girl behind you begin to blab on.

"Bitch he winked at me! Oh my god!"

You felt a vein in your temple tense, exercising all of the strength in your body to not turn around. She stepped down a row, sitting slightly close to you as you watched her wave frantically, which Miles ignored. The game went on for about another 45 minutes, with Home scoring the winning shot. The court erupted with loud cheering, you had that same amount of school pride as you yelled along with the crowd. As the team celebrated in the middle of the court, a few players walked over to whoever was important to them in the crowd fixed on the benches.

Miles made a quick glance at you before briefly nodding backward, indicating for him to follow him to the back like you would usually do. Just as you were getting your stuff ready, that dumb bimbo quickly hopped up to grab at his arm. He wasted absolutely zero time in pushing her off, giving her a rather stern "I have a girlfriend. Back the fuck up, thank you." with a grimace that said nothing but pure disgust. He jogged up to you, pulling you from the front of the bleachers and pulling you into a deep kiss. A couple people perked up at the action, watching as two people who seemingly didn't even know each other casually kissed in the middle of the court.

Bitches were mad that day, their delusions coming to a very sharp halt as the reality of Miles's girlfriend smacked them like a backhand from Floyd Mayweather. But you didn't give a single fuck as Miles cooed a gentle "I love you, mi amor." Into your ear. You knew who he preferred over everyone in the school; that mattered to you.

#across the spiderverse #atsv #into the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #miles morales #e!42 miles morales #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles morales x reader

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allfearstofallto · 3 months

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Okie so we've had childe meeting scara's wife, but what about scara meeting childe's wife for the first time? If not can we hear more about the first one?

- 🍓

You are so right strawberry!! My dumbass really forgot that I could write the scenario going the other way!!

Scaramouche Meeting Childe's Wife

Yandere Childe! x reader x Yandere(?) Scaramouche

After almost a year of Childe fawning over you, the look of disinterest his coworker gave you was rather refreshing. The man, only a head shorter than Childe and obviously much more frail looking, had a scowl that could kill. You wondered how long it took to get a look that aggressive, but somehow still elegant on his delicate features.

“And this is my lovely wife!” Childe said rather excitedly and the man merely rolled his eyes.

“It's very nice to meet you,” you muttered softly, he didn't have much in the way to say back. Despite the cold of Snezhnaya he was wearing a shirt that barely went down to his elbows, shorts, and sandals. The cold of Snezhnaya wasn't normal, it felt like the air was biting you. You couldn't even leave the house without a few good layers, yet here he was walking through it with ease, “You're not dressed well for the weather.”

Another glare was shot your way, his eyes colder than the snow, “Skip the pleasantries. I'm here because I have to be. Don't pretend you want to speak with me.”

You didn't even dare look at Childe after the man spoke. He was always so quick to anger, especially when it came to you. Childe had very few loyalties in his life, one of them being the Tsaritsa, the other being you. He often told you how easily he could and would turn on anyone else if needed be, and it seemed this coworker was going to be no different.

“Number six,” you could hear that he was forcing the words through gritted teeth, “Perhaps I wasn't clear when I told you that I love my wife more than anything in this world.”

“You were clear. But perhaps I didn't care,” the man was bold, you'd give him that. And despite how rude he was being he still walked further into the home, taking off the large ornate hat he was wearing and letting you finally see how beautiful his silky, indigo hair was.

Childe followed soon after and the two of them went to talk. You could already tell that he wasn't completely friendly with this coworker, out of the many you'd met. You knew more harbingers than the average person did in a lifetime, more than you wanted to as well, but this one was the first one you'd seen be blatantly disrespectful.

But as they sat and chatted amongst themselves about missions and quite honestly, things you didn't understand, your mind still thought about how underdressed the man was. There was no way Childe would let him stay overnight, not with the way he was acting and Snezhnaya only got colder when the sun was down. You didn't want to just send him out into the elements.

“Could you bring me a spare jacket, and maybe some snow pants and boots,” you asked a maid and she was quick to drop what she was doing to scurry off and find things for you. In less than thirty minutes, everything was handed to you, neatly folded.

The meeting only lasted two hours and both Childe and his co-worker were leaving the office. You wondered if he ever got sick of scowling so much. Or if he ever even showed interest in anything at all.

Childe was walking faster than usual, probably trying to quickly get the man out of the house, but you stopped him, holding up the clothes that you'd acquired. The way both men looked at you made your heart sink to your ass, your orange haired husband had so much fury in his eyes from your kindness to the other, but didn't stop you.

“It's…it’s just cold out there,” you muttered, hoping that Childe would understand your explanation. He allowed the other man to take the clothes, a gentle smirk on his face.

Throughout the whole day, you'd never seen him with anything but his usual frown, you weren't even aware that he could smile, “Such thoughtfulness. I see why number eleven is interested in you,”

The door to the home was opened and the man ushered out. He was still holding the items you'd given him, not wearing them, but you didn't want to tell him to stop. Not while Ajax was looking at you so angrily. You didn't want to cause even more misunderstandings.

“Scaramouche,” he said while still walking out the door. You must've made a noise of confusion because he elaborated, “I'm called Scaramouche. And I'll see you soon.”

#mai<3 answers #🍓 anon #genshin #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche

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cyrusthedragon · 11 months

Text

Mother of his child

Explicit ‼️ MDNI ‼️ NSFW 18+

I promised and I did: Simon sucks his wife's titties while talking about a big happy family with her.

Relationship: Simon Ghost Riley / f!Reader

Tags: porn with plot, dominance, married couple, rough sex, established relationship, breastfeeding, creampie, LOTS of dirty talk, some of spit play, LOTS of milk, LOTS of breeding, LOTS of 'mama'-calling, nasty stuff, happy family fluff for aftercare, size kink, sex after some time, no "Ghost", babying Simon.

Simon Riley really loves his wife, like... possessively. Almost obsessively.

Notes:

f!Reader gained weight after giving birth, and she has too much milk. Greedy and perverted Simon can't think about her selling her milk to people who have feeding problems. He's jealous.

You and Simon serve(d) together.

(Kinda, cuz it's funny, but not actually) Bossy!Reader in the end.

You and Simon have a newborn child.

Trigger warning: English isn't my first language, so, please, write a comment if I did a good job, I need to know if it's good, cuz I'm not really sure. But i enjoyed writing it! You can subscribe to me, I'll write a lot more about him! And I take requests, hehehe, especially most dirty ones. So. Please, enjoy ♥️

AO3

"You'll bore a hole in me..." you said under your breath, touching baby girl with just your fingertips and not taking your eyes off of her.

Simon immediately straightened his back, paying attention to the book in his hands again, and you chuckled softly:

"What's going on in your mind, baby?"

Silence in the room, only a soft melody from somewhere in the house, and the three of you sitting in your bedroom: you, feeding your precious baby girl, she, smacking from the delicious milk, and your husband, trying to pretend he's reading his book. Considering how he didn't touch a single page for the last fifteen minutes, he was either repeating that one spread or trying to memorize it all.

Or just being a pervert.

It's Simon we're talking about, no one on Earth would ever suspect him of thinking about something nasty, but... You were his wife. Mother of his child.

You knew there was something in those blue eyes of his - he looked at you exactly like that one day when you... When you decided to have a child.

You weren't, actually.

It was an accident.

But when you told him about your pregnancy and asked if you should take a Plan B, for one moment after that horrific word, he looked at you, almost shaking from nervousness, with something in his eyes that you recognized as a... Reluctance? "Yeah," he cleaned his throat, moved his gaze away because, obviously, the floor was way more interesting than a damn pregnancy test in your hands, "yes, you're right, Plan B... We shouldn't.. we should, uh...". Words have never been one of his strengths, if you were not in bed.

You looked at him trying very hard to say something, and one thing in him just matched you so perfectly, that for one second you thought maybe.. maybe...

"Can we keep-"

"What if we..."

You said it at the same time, and neither you nor he understood who was saying what, but the excitement was so loud, that you couldn't resist impulses to grab his hands. Neither could he help but stretch out his arms to you and hold you to give you a hug, even if he himself was just as terribly scared.

That shit was scary. No doubt.

It would not have been that horrifying if not for these thoughts of yours. Common.

"If we..." you heard Simon speaking, felt him swallowing loudly, "Maybe, if.. maybe we can..."

"Can keep it?" you helped, squeezing him with all your strength just to feel yourself safe. "You think we can?.."

"I think... I think I want to, but.."

"You want?"

And that was the moment when you moved away a little to look him straight in the eyes, seeking there for something you weren't sure exactly what.

"Yes?.." he answered under his breath. As freaked out as you were. Of course, he was. Both of you were soldiers, to the core. No one of you ever dares to dream about having a baby... It's a huge responsibility, and neither he nor you thought you could handle it, that's why you always used protection to minimalize your chances. It doesn't mean you didn't want to - hell yes you wanted, especially with Simon, and the more you got to know him, the better you understood he wanted this, too.

A family.

A real family, bonded with each other, someone you can hold in your hand and give all your love, all your affection, untapped awe for having something you and Simon created together. Holy hell, you married a dead man, did you think you had no strength for a little human? Just a baby? It took almost half of a year for you and Simon to finally get married, you took his last name and did it with all your patience, although the boys in one-four-one started calling you Mrs. Riley a long time before you became Mrs. Riley, and all these troubles, years of waiting for something with him, all this situationship, candy-bouquet period, all of it...for being afraid of having a child? It can't be that ha-

You were selfish.

Thinking about yourself, not your baby, who would most likely live alternately with one parent, then with the other - depending on which one of you would be called for a mission. You knew it. You knew you can have your parental leave, for twelve weeks, and, and, and...

"..ve. Love!" you shuddered - Simon rarely used to raise his voice at you, and often it was because of how easily you were distracted by thinking about something very important to you. You lose your patience when you were afraid of something. You blinked, looked up at him, and suddenly he was so calm that you were immediately infected by his calmness, without realizing it. "Breathe, love," he whispered, holding your face in his palms, so huge compared to your head. "Do you want to keep her?" and when he asked, looking you dead in the eyes, he already knew your answer, but...

You breathed out: "Her?"

Eyes to eyes, one very important dialogue without a single word between you, your shiny to his bright, deep ocean blue. "I want a girl," he whispered, not even blinking. "I want a boy", you said lowing your voice to match his, and he nodded, pulling you closer to touch your forehead with his. "Then... Let's see who it will be," Simon's lips were so close to yours, you half closed your eyes, pressed your lips into a tight line, and then closed them completely when he murmured in your mouth before kissing you full of his endless gratitude: "...shall we?"

And that was it.

You lost your little bet and were very happy about it.

The little one was happy, too, sucking milk, already ready for her beauty sleep, so beautiful, and a bit... sassy, biting your swollen nipple with per pink gums, making you hiss and chuckle softly. She had her father's shiny eyes. Your love. Your precious child.

"Simon, darling, you're staring." You finally moved your eyes from your daughter to your husband, smiled at him and he could no longer pretend he was reading his book. He wasn't. "Am I?" you heard him sighing, but his gaze started to be a little more... heavier than a second before you decided it was enough for baby girl and took her away from your chest. "Yes, darling, you are," your voice softened, small one whined, lying on the bed, twitching her hands and feet, and you giggled: "What a greedy creature... Never enough for her." But she quickly calmed down - the music changed to a comforting lullaby... You could finally get up and stretch your legs, fix your dressing gown, and move to Simon, sitting on the armchair.

"You didn't answered my question."

Baby monitor right behind your girl, and you allowed yourself to go straight to the kitchen - hungry as hell, while Simon simply followed your steps God knows why.

"What question?" He asked, watching you getting your snacks.

Bare feet, loose hair, mid-thigh gown, and the wet spots in it, right in front of your nipples. You're still leaking. And mouth-watering. And holy shit he just can't stop looking at your covered chest, how heavy your breasts are, how they freely jiggle when you're just moving. "Simon." he can't hear you, all his nature is focused there where your nipples touch your closes, these eyes are wild. You watched him, busy analyzing your chest or whatever, and didn't get yet the hell was wrong, but it's Simon, so... Whatever he was thinking about he would tell you, sooner or later.

But you didn't expect 'sooner' will be that...soon.

You turned your back to him to find something in the fridge and gasped when he suddenly lifted you, sitting you on the table, face to him. "Riley, the hell are you?!-" and then you met his eyes again.

Truly, wild.

"What? Eat your food, love." his voice was strange, he completely was strange, something just cracked in you, a blush appeared in your cheeks immediately, then he pulled back the gown and your hand trembled, accidentally dropping a snack on the floor.

He bared your chest with a face like nothing happened, and you swallowed your tongue like a proper coward, did not know how - did not want to - stop him and did not even try to interrupt whatever he was going to do. You felt the shivers down your spine - his hands on your ribs, fingertips almost tickling you, forcing you to smile, but there was nothing to smile about, just your husband being odd and making your legs shake with just his hands.

God, you didn't touch him for almost six months...

"I can't," you whispered, shutting your eyes while feeling his hand off you and somehow knowing for sure he was pulling his mask up to his nose.

"Why?" The hoarse voice of his just drove you crazy. Your brain was about to explode with this sudden satisfaction he brought to you by massaging your torso and jelly belly, and you couldn't answer properly: "Because you... What are you... Just take what you want already." You hissed, and maybe it would be fear for him to feel embarrassed by your tone and hands, hugging his head, but he did not care anymore or simply did not understand that, so he just... Did it.

You felt his wide tongue in front of your nipple.

And you inhaled.

"Simon... Simon, what are you doing, Simon..."

Your voice was less caring than you wanted it to be, and he didn't even look at you to answer: "Joining you to eat a snack."

"Oh I'm a snack now, wonderful..." words came out of your mouth before you shut it, "You little pervert, are you seriously going to su-... Oh, god."

Tongue swept all over your breast before Simon straightened up to his full height - and even though you were sitting on the table, he had to tilt his head to look at you. Giant. His gaze was much heavier than before, his pupils bigger, his brows furrowed to let you know, he was ashamed of you:

"That's how your talking to a baby, love?" Simon murmured and you did not even try to believe what you heard. He continued, seeing your confusion: "I see... I'm no longer your baby, am I?"

"Wha-.."

Oh.

'"What's going on in your mind, baby?"'

So that's what it was all about.

"You pervert," you said, watching him laying you down on the table and towering over you like he was some kind of mountain of muscles. This whole situation was quite crazy, and you swallowed, losing all your boldness just because of how dominant he became, taking your hands in his one so tightly that you couldn't move your fingers if you wanted to. Breath-taking Simon. First, you met on your first night together. A completely different person than what you usually see. His gaze was on you, examining you - how the fabric glided effortlessly over your body, showing up your ribs, tummy, chubby sides (you gained some weight after giving birth and were a little worried about it, but the way he cravingly looked at your fat...), your white panties, already wet for him. Of course, you were wet. He was between your legs, holding your hands, ready to eat you up.

"'Baby?..'" you whispered under him, trying to move your feet, but his other hand grabbed your knee abruptly and pushed it aside, leaving you completely open to him. "Don't try to hide, mama," you gasped at his words, heart started beating faster, and his head lowered to touch your belly with his lips. Soft and full. "It's nothing you need to be ashamed of.. if it's not me. Are you ashamed of me, mama?". Impossible, how he affected you with this damn 'mama' spoken by his powerful, quiet voice, "You don't need to be ashamed. Didn't you say today that your breasts are full? Don't you remember?".

You swallowed your saliva, chest up and down, and your voice cracked when Simon slightly touched underneath your filled breast, "I said we can sell it... There are many people with.. problems with.. with feeding. Simon, what are you-"

"Stop asking. You don't trust me?"

"I do, but-"

"No 'but'."

You should've said something, but when he grabbed your tit with his wide palm, compressed your nipple lightly between the index and middle fingers, everything that was in your head vanished immediately. Milk ran out over his fingers, to his wrist, and tangled in his short hair above the tattoo. "So easily, mama," he murmured, following the drop of your milk, "you're so full.. and you wanna give this to someone else? You wanna take it away from our daughter? Deprive her of that, mama? Is that what you want for her?"

You just said there's too much milk in you, useless milk, because your girl never starved, but the mere idea of giving part of you to someone who wasn't his child, just made him so, so jealous. You choked - Simon pulled your nipple with his fingers as if in punishment.

"No, no, of course not, I just wanted..."

And then the moon fell:

"You can give it to me." Your eyes widen in shock. And you saw him raise his milk-stained hand and watched his tongue follow the line from elbow to finger, licking your juice. "Sweet..." He murmured, "So sweet, so delicious..." And before you even realized, he sat you up at that table, wrapped his hand around you, and pressed his open, greedy mouth to your milking breast, moaning, like it was the best thing he ever tasted. A cry escaped your lips, you instantly grabbed his head, closed your eyes tightly - your nipples were so, so sensitive after feeding, and now he almost ate 'em. Shivers ran through your body, every cell was tense, trembling legs closed behind his back, as if locking him with a fuckin' padlock pressed against your body, yet still fully dressed. "Madman," you whined, squeezing the back of his balaclava, "you're a madman, Simon Riley, you're out of your mind...Teeth-!" Your sob forced him to let go of your chest with a loud smack, just like your baby did before, and the marks of his teeth were clearly visible on the soft, full flesh around your nipple.

"Watch your teeth- god, you-" you cried out, almost ready to hit him on the back, but then he, stooped, suddenly looked up at you, so innocent, so open, that something in your gut began to tighten. "Something wrong, mama?" He said, and you miraculously felt how his second hand was lost between your thighs. Breath didn't want to recover, he clung to you, pressing his cheek against your chest, and milk flowed out of you harder.

"No..." You answered, not sure if he's a pervert for calling you 'mama', or you for enjoying it so much, "Nothing wrong, baby... Just.. watch your teeth, okay?" Eyes to eyes, without a blink, you sucked air through your teeth and slowly put your trembling hand at his half-covered cheek, stroking until he closed his eyes, "You want to be good for mama, don't you, baby?"

"Mhm", he whispered, kissing your hand softly.

You didn't know your first sex with Simon after such a long time would be like that, but his finger, just one, was in your underwear and it pressed your clit so good, that you almost lost your mind, tilt you head back.

"I will be good for you, but I'm so mad at you..." Suddenly his voice softened and your hips tensed; his palm was fully in your panties, squeezing your cunt, pressing the middle finger to the entrance.

"Why mad, baby?.."

"I'm so mad you want to give yourself to someone else, mama," and when he opened his eyes, his finger entered you on the first finger phalanx, you hold your breath and bit your lip - you forget how big his fingers were, one of his like two of yours, and there was no lubricant, just your sloppy juices. Every tiny scar on his finger was fully felt, every callus, every cut. "You wanted to share yourself with hell knows who. That's how you feel about us, love? Is that it? Instead of giving everything to your, to my child, our child, you were going to.. what?" finger thrust further, you gasped, he pressed you into himself tighten. One small kiss to your neck and you already was useless, when he lifted you again and whispered in your ear while carrying you to the couch and putting you on his thighs so that you could lay down on him completely naked.

You don't need clothes, do you?

"You were going to waste it, love." He continued. "Instead of calling me, your husband, to help you."

"Help me with what?.. sucking this milk?.."

"Exactly, love."

You would've chuckled, but then there was a crack and your torn panties fell to the floor.

He tore them on you.

Animal.

"Beast..." You whispered, putting your head on his shoulder and feeling him squeezing your tits once more with both his hands.

"Me?" Simon's soft laughter was almost unbelievable, "No, no... I'm not. You are. A little cow, mama. Leaking your sweet milk. Just like a cow. Allowing me to drink it..." he pressed his face into your chest, threw you back, milk splashed from your nipples and hit him right on the balaclava, "What a mess you are. You're looking? Look carefully." fingers squeezed one nipple, twisted, pulled, milk splashed in all directions, flowed all over your chest and down to your torso, and his hands, warm, making you whine and mumble in pain in half with pleasure, just like a cow. "Oh love, and not just here. Don't take your eyes off, watch how wet you are, you ruined my clothes," his second hand went down to your groin, suddenly you wanted to cover yourself, but his middle and index fingers had already opened your vulva, revealing his hungry gaze your lower lips. "Look at you, you're soaking, mama... Do you hear it? That's your sound."

The sloshing of your juices as he circled around your entrance, the crackling of his clothes as you squeezed his shoulders, your whimpering as he purposely ignored your hard clit - all this cacophony was his symphony for your ears, and only yours.

"You sound so well, love..."

"Simon.. Simon, please, Simon..."

"What 'please'?"

"Simon, please, I want to kiss you..."

"Kiss me then."

"No! No! Please, Simon, I want to kiss you so bad... Please let me just-" and your shaking fingers touched the edges of his balaclava, throwing aside.

Scars.

Scars all over his face.

His bright eyes, his short blond hair, and all these scars made him look way older than he was. Breath-taking Simon.

You couldn't resist the impulse to praise him like he always secretly loved:

"You're so beautiful..." Fingers ran over his cheeks, cheekbones, brows, nose, lips, so kissable, you pressed your mouth to his with a hiss, feeling Simon again in you with his whole finger. "Damnit, baby..." You said, silencing him by taking his tongue with yours.

His hand on your ass, his finger fucking you, so tight girl, he loves feeling your walls around him, up and down - you got up on him, fucking yourself with his finger, and lowered to feel how he put his second finger to your entrance. Your breath hitched as he broadened your entrance, slowly pushing himself inside. Juices sloshing, his panting against your neck, his other hand gripping your ass so hard it threatened to bruise it, and his fingers fucking you like he was re-examining you - twisting the hand, pushing in, speeding up and massaging your inner lips and your clit, making you moan so loud, thank god rooms were soundproof. "I want to be inside you so bad, mama..." You heard him, hissing in your skin, biting it with his sharp teeth, you could've just hugged him tighten, "So wet, so delicious, look at you, how beautiful you are, ready to carry my second child...are you ready, mama?"

"Second child?.." you whispered barely audible, eyes watering from his aggressive pounding, and almost whining when the sound of unfastening the belt reached your ears and the cold steel of its plate touched your hot skin.

"Of course," and he didn't even stop pounding you, that dirty pervert; pulled his boxers down, letting the cool air touch the head of his cock. Red, wet head. Big. Thick. You didn't have to look at it to instantly lower your palms down and, howling like a wild dog, grab his cock with your both hands. "Fuck, love..." He cursed, clutching your ass, "You missed me, huh? Did you?"

"I did, I did, so much, baby, so much..." your trembling voice, your confident hands stroking his already hard fat dick, your cunt, shrinking from the memory of how sweetly he filled you that last time before your pregnancy... You, cock-drunk, beneath him, full with his thick hot sperm and covered by it all over your body - your ass, your vulva, your belly, your face; he came so much then, it was your first night together after you both returned from your mission. And now you can have it again... Finally.

"Pink on your cheeks suits you, love," he murmured, stroking your cheek like you did with his, "but I prefer your tears..." and before you even understood, his tongue already was on your face, licking off salty tears, mumbling, moving his hips to you while you jerked him off. "Everywhere... Wet everywhere... Did you always have been such a dirty fat slut?.. Crying, milking, soaking... I can eat you alive. Show me your mouth," he took his hand off your butt, roughly opened your mouth, looked, "Oh, I see... Would you mind, if I-"

And you felt his saliva on your tongue before Simon finished his sentence.

"There you go, such a good girl..."

But he didn't even think about letting you swallow his spit, and while you were trying to get back into rhythm, drunk on his saliva, he threw you onto the sofa, covering you from above, like a goddamn wall: "No, no, don't close your mouth." An animal, a real beast, twice your size, towered over you, mocked you, deprived you of his fingers and you could only helplessly scratch his hands near your head and push your pelvis in him, trying to somehow sit on his cock with your pathetic leaky pussy. "Don't close your mouth, you don't want me to fuck you, mama?" Sly bastard, so different, so cold, so soft for all of them, role model, best fighter, squad pride...Made fun of you, so turned on. You nearly hated him for this, but couldn't deny how you loved him above you.

"I want," trembled lips parted, saliva flowed slowly down your tongue to its root, your heavy breath was the only music for him.

"You want? Then be good for me, and I'll be good for you, mama, your good, good baby boy, mama... I would be anything for you, open your mouth, open it, let me fill you everywhere, will you, please?"

You barely had time to grab his short hair when he pressed his mouth to your mouth, but your tongues did not touch each other, you only shared your breath with him, as you always did, and when the tip of his fat cock touched your entrance, you held your breath, feeling how, along with his length, ripping you apart, widening you, inch by inch, he poured into you also his spit. Thick saliva - that's how hungry he was for you, his mouth was full of this viscous liquid.

"Good mama," words were hard for you, he closed his eyes, stopped at how tight you were, grabbed your leg, and slung it on his belt, thrusting deeper into you. Each vein on his long cock, each brought so much pleasure to extremely tight you... It was nearly impossible to move, but he always was stubborn and even when the drop of sweat ran over his neck, he continued entering you, sadistically slowly. "Relax for me," he almost begged, and you whispered:

"I've already..."

"So that's how tight you actually are, then, huh?" Seems Simon was starting to lose patience, fingers of one hand pressed on the upholstery of the sofa near your head, the second he squeezed your breast as if in revenge: "I almost forgot how it's like...when you're not in the shape of my cock." he sucked in air through clenched teeth, staring into the tears in your eyes, like he wanted to lick them again, "But it's okay..." He continued, thrusting you exactly to halfway of his cock, "We have plenty of time to make you perfect for me again, love. It's okay. I'll fuck you 'til you'll be open for me every time I want to fill you with my cum. You like my cum?" you cried, his heavy hand gave a slap on your ass, "Of course you do... Mama's such a slutty thing, she's always ready for me to cum in her, give her so much of my sperm, so she can give birth to our future big family."

"Big..." You whined about how he was ripping you with his dick, demonically slowly to the very core, to the root. You felt the warmth of his full, heavy balls, as he promised, filled with his cum just for you, and your back arched in an unthinkable angle, as soon as you felt the coarse hair on his groin.

"Yes, love, big family," and even his mumbling reached you with difficulty, you suffered on him, scratched him, beat, squeezed him with your legs, wriggled like a snake, and he hung over you, indestructible, like a rock, tried to take a breath from the pain in the cock. "Me, you, our children, so many children..."

And there was the first thrust.

Right on the nerves.

Until the pitiful cry and eyes rolled back.

Big, big, big-

So fucking big-

"What, you can't handle me anymore?" his hoarse rough voice came from above and your body shook as he thrust into you and slap your thigh, leaving the big red shape of his five fingers. "How you're going to have my children then? Be the mother of my babies, raise 'em, feed 'em with that delicious milk of yours-" Simon compressed one of your nipples again and you choked on a scream as the milk spurted freely up. "Dirty, dirty mama..." Was his only response.

And he fucked you.

To the cries, putting all his strength into you, moaning loud and clear, just like you love, forcing you to beg for his cock, but already fuckin' you, watching your tits jiggle and milk splash everywhere, spoil his clothes, get on your cheeks. To legs shaking, to an exhausted body, growling in your face how much he's going to cum in you so that you burst from his sperm, pregnant with his children, forever, for your whole life, so everyone, every fucking single one from everywhere could see whose are you, who you belong to. This belly, squishy and fatty, this face, these tits, hips, legs, feet, mouth, this milk, and other juices, these eyes, beautiful, beautiful eyes, these delicious lips, this heart and soul - all, all for him and his children, all for the Riley family, all of it for them and no one else, no one fuckin' else. You're trapped here, you're never gonna leave this man and his child, you belong to them with your whole being, you understand that? Do you, mama? Do you understand there's no escape, he would fight Death if that sucker would ever allow himself to at least think about taking you away from Simon; he would fight Death, and he would kill it because no one has the slightest right to take even a piece of you from him.

"Mine," he groaned, sinking his fangs into your neck, suddenly grabbing you by the waist and lifting so that you sat on his cock as tightly as physically possible, and kept fucking you, beating out from you every moan, every deep scratch your nails left on his shoulders as you bathed his neck with your tears. Pressed into each other, like two halves of a whole, crazy, lost in each other, interwoven, and you won’t understand where you begin and he ends. Your cunt hurts, but the pain is so sweet that you're not sure you want to cut it, you're not sure you want him to stop, to be more gentle, not pounding you like a fucking hammer, and the angle is so right - you can feel not just his dick deep inside you, but how your clit is stimulated by him, his rough movements. Oh, this beast, this madman, this insane man... So insane just for you. You cried out, moaned: "Simon... Simon! Simon!" as if it was the only thing you remembered in your life, and the rubbing of your bare nipples against his outer clothing forced you to snuggle closer to him and at the same time as if trying to get away from him.

He was no longer there, he was all inside you, thrusting you like it was his last day, angry, but carrying you so perfectly that you could've let yourself lay on him, and you knew he would never let you fall.

"Simon, Simon, listen, listen to me, please-" your trembling voice almost vanished in all these sex sounds, but he pushed you closer (there was no 'closer') and you simply whined: "Simon, I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum, I'm going to- I want to cum so bad- please, Simon, I wanna cum, I want you to cum, please, cum with me, please-" Your fingers pulled back his hair. You yourself pulled back, arched in your back, and instantly your muscles contracted on his cock, forcing him to fall, falling with you on the soft sofa. A little more and he would've crushed you with his weight, but with a desperate groan he managed to grab your hands and, lacing your fingers together, lean on them to hang over you, not for a second slowing down the speed of his deep, passionate thrusts.

Your useless legs struggled to stay on his lower back, your breasts were shaking painfully and you felt the blessing of heaven when he clung to you, pressed, as tightly as it was physically possible, and instantly squeezed you in both his hands. "Cum for me," he moaned in your ear, his veiny cock almost touched your uterus, but it seemed that if he wanted to, he would fuck your womb just to impregnate you. "Cum for me, mama, let me see how happy you are to be pregnant for me, just for me, showing people how you love me, scream, mama..."

Heavy breathing, deep unforgiving pounds, bursting cock, burning heart, nails scratching his strong broad back, ribs compressed with iron arms - and you, so tiny compared to him, you, so little, so fragile looking in his arms... were ready for anything for this man. "Cum for me," he ordered, grunted, and you tensed on him, squeezed him with all your might to his own loud moan, and tears gushed from your helplessly rolled eyes. His moans, low but beautiful, just for you, were the only thing you heard in your petite mort.

And his seed filling you, hot, thick, was the only thing you felt.

The maddening feeling of being filled with rich cum, his cum, your husband's, your man's, drove you to a silent scream, to open mouth from which no sound came out, and saliva flowing down from the edge of your mouth only to dry on your cheek when you tilted your head back. And as if boiling sperm in you, poured into your insides.

"Greedy mama..." you didn't even come to your senses when you focused your blurred vision on Simon overhanging you, cupping your wet cheek with his large hand. His quiet, purring voice settled in your head like a gooey honey. You could nearly discriminate his words. Not understanding what was happening around, hearing only his voice and feeling only him in you, you were like gutted and thrown into the light while his sweat dripped on you from above, and his heavy breathing only miraculously did not blow you away. "Just like that..." Even his voice cracked, this man couldn't resist the devil, and mumbled inaudibly: "So good for me... So good... Such a good girl..."

Hot seed in you, his weight on you, his warmth all over you, his loud breath and your inner muscles tightening and loosening around him while he, overstimulated, continued moving in you, also overstimulated, and the movements were so...gentle ... So soft... His soft pounds, his smooth swings, almost like trying to rock you, but that orgasm was so blinding, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't concentrate on the outer world, just him and his hands, his hips between your legs, his balls tightly pressed to you, his cock inside you completely... So... Soft... Hot... Your body temperature was almost past its peak... And that gentle touch Simon gave you on your belly, lying his head on your shoulder.

After what he did, you barely remember how carrying he was... This big softie...

"You..." your hoarse voice sounded like you hadn't spoken in at least ten years, there was fuckin' Sahara in your throat, and your eyes couldn't even close from the experienced orgasm, "What you just... What you... Wha-...."

Tied tongue refused to obey.

You literally could not utter a word, only mumbling something incomprehensible.

Boneless.

Dry out.

Dehydrated.

The son of a bitch literally sucked all the juice out of you.

"Si..bl... Bml... Ah......"

And when he, as exhausted as you, pulled away to kiss you on the pink hot cheek, after all, that he had done, you nearly could look at how calm he was.

"You alright, love?"

Blue eyes glanced at you in slight worry, he stroked your wet hair, raised himself with both hands to look at you, but you could not take your eyes off him. You stared at him in disbelief or shock - doesn't matter, you just experienced the nastiest sex in your life, and he was so calm, so confident, like nothing happened, like it was a daily basis for you - being fucked 'til semiconscious state while your husband was 'mama'-calling you and sucking your tits, and, holy shit, did that really-

"Do I..." You swallowed, looking him dead in the eyes, without a single blink. "Do I look like I'm alright?... Do I?... And what happened with 'mama', baby?.. what happened with 'mama'?" suddenly your voice became demanding, insistent, from somewhere you found the strength to weakly hit him in his rock-hard shoulder, and Simon's eyes flashed with shame for a second, then he moved them from you, almost trying to hide, while leaving your core and sitting on the edge of the sofa at your useless boneless legs still shaking from whatever the hell that just was.

He inhaled, "I..."

"Shut up." and he closed his mouth instantly, staring at the floor, even before he heard properly what you said. "You sucked my milk."

"Um..."

"I said shut the fuck up- You just- where are my pills?"

"What?"

The slight surprise in his voice almost pissed you off and it was funny how he almost trembled with fear and tried to shrink under your gaze: he, that behemoth of a man, two meters tall, mountain of muscles, Lieutenant, a brave soldier of the Queen, Chain Dog of Captain Price and Commander Lasswell, trembling under your gaze, your, women half his height, twice as weaker than he ever was, furthermore, unable now to even wake up on her own, move her limbs, he was fuckin' scared-

Indeed.

You did have power over him.

"My pills." You barely raised your voice and he already was on his feet, pulling on his pants and trousers, looking for your plan B.

You watched him, nervously seeking after them, making as much noise in the bathroom as he would never make on a battlefield, and you could almost see his shaking hands turning the whole room upside down.

"We're gonna have a nice long talk about all of it," you heard yourself surprisingly serious, when he came to you with a glass of water and your medicine, helping you, holding your head for you to drink, "we gonna..." you swallowed the pill from his hands, drank all the water from the glass without taking your eyes off him, and exhaled loudly as he kissed your cheek after.

"We're gonna?.." he echoed you and you saw him squatting down next to the couch, against your head, so you could lie down and look him straight in the eyes without getting tired.

"We're gonna clear up your... This. Simon."

"Mhm?"

"Eyes on me."

"They already are, ma'am."

You could've laughed, because he never called you that unless you were extremely serious about small things in your life, no one ever saw him mocking you, or smiling like this, widely and openly, but there were topics you wanted to discuss before admitting that both of you were total perverts, and nothing would even help you clean your conscience from it.

To be fair, you didn't actually want.

You knew he was more playful, more... Different when you were alone, there were demons inside his pretty blonde-haired head, that was true, you knew the man you married, and he never was such a jealous person without any reason, and... You didn't know how, but you were sure this talk about 'sharing with someone else' wasn't just... Dirty talk. There was something else deep inside.

"You're thinking too loud, love," you heard him hawed it out and then felt his strong hands on your aching legs. "Again."

"I'm just... You know what?"

"Mm?"

"We... We should..."

"We should?.."

"We should... Holy hell, Simon... You..."

"I was serious about what I said, love."

Boom.

You tilted your head, met his eyes, moving from your legs to your face.

His deep and at first sight as if almost naive eyes.

"About?..." You whispered, feeling something strange growing inside you with every second he was looking deep into your soul.

Nasty, nasty soul.

"About having a big family." you felt his gentle kiss on your ankle, his head relaxed near your feet, he mumbled, "We already have one pretty girl... I want more. I want... I want to come home... And see a hoard of children running to me... Meeting me... And you... And then I'll sit with them, and you will work, and, imagine... Coming home, where there'll be a bunch of kids, siblings, maybe playing with each other, or arguing, or... Else. Our little world."

"Our little world..."

Unbelievable.

Dreamy, absorbed in his fantasies, soft, affectionate Simon. Telling you about that.

"Even if we could... What if something goes wrong?.." you couldn't resist your fears, not for yourself, but for hypothetical children. "What if... We won't be able to give them what they deserve?.."

And suddenly he smirked:

"I'm not telling you making a second one right now, am I?" your eyes met, your uncertain, and his, surprisingly romantic. "I'm just... Maybe we shouldn't stop at just one. She needs a friend. We were able to do so many things. I will buy a big house somewhere in the middle of nowhere..."

"With a garden and greenhouse?"

"Yep. I will arrange the area. Maybe we can have cows?"

"And chicken."

"And chicken. And..."

And you completed his sentence without looking at him, just knowing what he would say:

"...and have a daydream house with white picket fence and a golden retriever..."

"I prefer Alsatian."

There was something wrong with this man. Who was without a drop of doubt thinking that you two, and now with the third little human, can have that unrealistic happy lovey-dovey life.

Scarred soldiers, hardly married, only a year ago trembling from fear because of the thought that you would have a child in your house, such an irresponsible thing to do- and- and- now-

Now he was saying you can have more, can take responsibility for more people, more little ones- where were the guarantees that he would not die in the field? where were the guarantees that you would not be killed? where there were guarantees that you could become good parents, raise good children, fulfill your duty to them, and remain happy, not break down, challenge life, who stubbornly told you over and over again that you weren't made for this, you simply cannot have this, this isn't for you, and-

There really was something wrong with him.

And maybe, only maybe, there was something wrong with you, too.

Because you believed him.

You believed him with all your being, you trusted him, you knew he would never betray your trust, he would do more than everything to keep his promises, you knew the word "family" wasn't just a sound for him, and you became his family, he did not just wanted kids and that shitty house, fuck it, that wasn't about the house.

All of that was only about you.

Making family with you.

Having kids with you.

Introducing you as his wife, being a father to your kids, calling you the mother of his kids, knew exactly that is your and his blood running in their veins, that's your common children playing in the garden.

And in his face, which for some reason everyone finds impenetrable and dispassionate, you read so much that your heart breaks, your breath hitches, your pulse skips a beat:

Simon Riley doesn't want this house without you. He doesn't want kids without you. He doesn't want any white picket fence, no garden, no greenhouse, nothing without you. It's all is just meaningless for him, if it's without you.

You are that one thing that makes him believe he's unstoppable. You're that one person for whom he wants to try, despite fully understanding how hard, almost impossible it will be. Definitely will.

The man will move mountains just for you.

He would fight Death, and he would kill it just for you.

That's truly crazy.

But once again, if he's crazy, then you are too.

"Okay..." your quiet voice sounded in the silent room, only the cozy melody accompanying your words. "Alsatian it is."

It took a second, stretching for years, for him to slowly, with the grace of a well-fed tamed predator, get up from the floor and lean towards you, giving you the most tender kiss you have ever felt.

Delicate as silk, sweet as chocolate, a touch of love.

All his feelings for you couldn't fit in one kiss. But he needed to try.

And as soon as you relaxed, trusting yourself to his strong, safe arms, loud baby cries came from the baby monitor.

Damn.

Simon pulled away from you with a quiet "Don't move, I'll go get the Princess" and you couldn't help but giggle when you heard him open the door to your bedroom and start talking like an idiot, cuz she just loved when he was goofy around her.

In one second, promises to make you perfect for his fat cock again, and in the second after that, rocks your common child while making hilarious noises to pacify her.

"Simon!" And when he, rocking your tiny Princess, looked out from behind your bedroom door, you said helplessly, unable to remove the silly smile from your face, "I love you, baby."

His gaze softened.

"I love you, too, mama."

Oh, this man...

Oh this man!

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pickingupmymercedes · 2 months

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Hi! I love your account. Sm. Like a lot. Would you be interested in writing something for lewis where he casually mentions in his gq interview that he has a longtime gf or wife. Or he recalls a memory of them introducing roscoe to her dog or cat?

Thank you so so much for the ask bestie! I drabbled something short, hope you like it ❤️.

PS: I'm still not over that interview btw, he's such a complex person and I'm so glad he's letting us see this side to him (a LVFH type of thing is something only someone like him could pull it off)

_____________________________________________________________

Lewis Hamilton’s drive to continually innovate and push the boundaries of his sport stems from a dual motivation. Firstly, he is determined to challenge and break the often conservative and traditional norms of Formula 1. Secondly, he is laying the groundwork for the latter part of his own illustrious career.

“I went through this phase of understanding that I can’t race forever,” he says, prompting him to cultivate those other passions. “Because when I stop, I’m gonna drop the mic and be happy.” “The difficult thing is I want to do everything,” he says, laughing. “I’m very ambitious. But I understand that you can’t do—actually, I take that back because I don’t believe in the word can’t. To be a master at something, there’s the 10,000 hours it takes. Obviously, I’ve done that in racing. There’s not enough time to master all of these different things.”

As our conversation progresses, Hamilton discloses that he has a kindred spirit who shares his compulsion to explore a myriad of interests. “I’m fortunate to have someone in my life who encourages me to embrace my spontaneous ideas and give them a shot. She might even be more adventurous than I am,” he chuckles. “She’s a bit of a jack-of-all-trades, and always so sure that you can dive into anything and learn as you go.” His eyes light up with admiration and affection as he speaks of her daring spirit.

The usually private Hamilton, who has been discreet about his long-term relationship, contrasts their differing approaches to life. “I need some more time to think things and really plan out how I want them to go. But she’s a jump now, ask later, so she’s most times hyping me to just try it. We balance each other. Sometimes I’m the strategist, and sometimes she’s the one taking the first bite.”

As for his future plans, apart from his endeavors in fashion and film, Hamilton prefers not to rush into anything. “She still has dreams she wants to pursue, so for now, I’m happy to be her supportive sidekick whenever I can. Perhaps in the future, when we both have more time our own family might be on the horizon, but not while I’m still racing.”

He quickly corrects himself though, referring to his bulldog, Roscoe, as his son, and introduces the adorable dachshund who frequently graces Roscoe’s Instagram posts. “My partner’s parents gifted her the little sausage dog a few years ago. Introducing them was a bit tricky as Tete is quite territorial. She wasn’t fond of me at first either, so Roscoe has a head start in winning her over. But now, Baguette gets along with everyone, and we can’t imagine our lives without her.”

Eager for more personal insights, I probe for updates on his personal life. However, when his response to my inquiry is, “Time will tell, when things happen we’ll make sure to update everyone when it feels right” I gracefully pivot to our next topic of discussion.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #elladrabbles #lewis hamilton imagine #ella asks #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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bangchansgirlsblog · 6 months

Note

i was wondering if we could have an argument or really angsty fanfic kind of i nEED to be hurt lolll

Keeping up with the Bhangs

Not the angstiest them all but yeah.

Warning: Angst, fighting, broken arm

Summary: Chan is a billionaire who can’t seem to stop demanding so much from his wife.

Pairing: Chan x reader.

"Chan I'm so mad at you," she exclaimed as she walked out their bathroom. It was as big as 4 bathrooms combined but better and more expensive.

She made her way into their walk in closet where Chan continued to put on his tie obviously not bothered by Y/n's rant.

"Baby, can we not do this right now? I have work right now," he put on his shoes and grabbed the jacket that Y/n had neatly ironed for him.

This annoyed her so much because why was he being so dismissive about the situation. He had always listened to her.

"But Chan, you can't just expect me to drop everything I have to come with you later," she crossed her arms together and glared at him as he walked up and down their room now trying to get everything together for the day.

Yes, even tho he was the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the world he still chose to be in time for work so he could be able to set an example.

"Christopher? Are you even listening to me?"

The tension in the room was high.

"I'm not Y/n!" He snapped turning to look at her, "I have work, I have meeting, I have things to do! You having to put on a pretty dress and smiling for one of the biggest events of the year shouldn't have to make me hustle like this. So please," he rubbed his temples and grabbed his phone from the table stand.

His phone was blowing up. Probably all calls from the office or his assistant. God, his assistant. The thought of her made Y/n skin crawl. Anger was slowly fueling her outburst.

"Chan you know Joon-Ho has soccer all day and you already told me to go to it without you. Then Ji has a play. You want me to drive back home get dressed for a night out?"

The kids were downstairs watching tv while getting ready for their day. Their usual routine set by Y/n who chose to be THAT kind on mum. You know? The pretty, laid back, almond mum? It was working great for the kids.

"God! Why do you have to be so difficult. Fine. I'll just go with my assistant," he didn’t mean it but he was so angry he couldn’t hold back. He knew how much Y/n hated his assistant. How much she got jealous whenever she was around.

She frowns and the anger she initially felt, slowly melted. She couldn’t speak. She was hurt by his words.

"Chan that's not what I mean-"

"Then what? What do you possibly want from me?" He growled, "this conversation is over."

He grabbed his laptop bag and left her to stand there alone. The rising sun sending sun rays through their big windows. Her body slowly shock as each sob left her mouth.

This wasn't there first argument. They had argued the night before about the same thing but this time Chan was really laying it on her.

Chan always tried to understand her. He always listened but recently the more his business became successful the more rough and snappy he became and it wasn't helping her at all because having 3 children and one on the way was heavy.

Yes they had nanny's, yes they had drivers, yes they had maids but she didn't like to bother them. She liked doing things by herself because at the end of the they were her kids. She didn't know what evil intentions these workers had against her or her babies.

"Mama!" The voice of her littlest rung through her ear. Her scream making her body completely go numb.

"Soo-min? Babygirl? What happened?!" She gasped finding the little one on the ground holding her wrist.

"Mama!" She cried and jumped into her arms seeking comfort from Y/n.

"Soo-min, you have to tell mama what's wrong," Y/n panicked. How could she be so blind. She turned her back for one second.

"Mama it hurts!" She screamed once again in agony as she still held onto her wrist. Y/n's heart skipping so many beats.

It was only 10 minutes till end of the game. Why did this have to happen to her? Her brain was trying to process the situation. Trying to figure out what to do. The nanny was quick to be by her side trying to help in any possible way.

"Let mama see princess," she begged her little one, "did you fall down?" She questioned the crying girl.

"Mummy, can I go with the girls before the the play?" Ji-Yeon, their middle child, asked her.

"Not right now Ji, your sister’s hand is hurt-" she was shitting it down but a tantrum began. She couldn’t handle everything that was going on at once.

"But mum! You never let me go play! I wish daddy was here instead of you!" This stung. This hurt Y/n. This made her feel like the worst person in the world. Her husband hated her, she couldn't take care of her kids and they hated her. Her mental breakdown was slowly building up.

"Can you behave right now? I can't deal with you bratty attitude right now,"

"I hate you!" She barked back.

"Ji-Yeon. Do not try to tempt me right now or so help me God. Go sit over there and keep quiet or you're grounded."

Although she was in the middle of a tantrum the girl was scared, so scared she got up and made her way to the table where she continued to sulk.

"Soo-min, let mama see okay?" The little girl handed her mum the little hand. Her hand was so tiny that Chan loved to call it a baby paw because of the shape in made when it was in a fist.

Her wrist didn't look okay, it looked broken and that only made Y/n's anxiety grow larger but she kept her cool and continued to carry the little one to the nanny.

"Take her to the car right now, I'll get the rest of the kids. I think she broke her wrist. Please inform Chan to meet us at the hospital," the nanny agreed and slowly carried the crying girl.

Y/n rushed over to the coach and teacher to apologize for her abrupt leave. She explained to them the situation and told them that their other driver and nanny would be there to pick up her oldest son. She made sure security was with him before kissing him goodbye as he continued to play on with his game.

It was 6:30 when Chan run through the door. He was panicking and his tie was loosened around his neck.

"Is she okay? What happened?" His breathing was quick but his body relaxed once he saw his wife.

"How could you let this happen Y/n?" He barked at her.

"I was just trying to collect everything so-"

"She's a kid! A 4 year old. You guys should be paying close attention to her. Where's the nanny? Tell her she's fired, I can't believe you right now,"

"Are you fucking kidding me right now? Who takes care of the kids on a daily? Me! Who goes for all their shows and their sports events? Me! Who's there to pick up the pieces whenever you leave home? Me! So don't you dare come in here and say it's my fault Chan," hot tears poured from her eyes and she glared at him. He was taken back. Everyone in the room was.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault…” he looked at the floor. Regret was eating him alive.

"I want a divorce Chan." Chan didn't allow her to even get the chance to walk away before he grabbed her hand and dragged her to the private hospital lounge. He wasn't going to have this conversation out there where nurses and doctors were watching.

Just like the kpop world worked, the Korean business world worked the same. Dispatch and everyone was ready for the biggest millionaires to crash and fall. Everyone was waiting for the latest scandal or drama and this was not going to look good for him.

"What do you mean you want a divorce?" He asked in disbelief. Her brain felt foggy and she felt exhausted.

"Chan, we're always fighting. You treat me like shit. You barely listen to me. You think I'm some baby making machine. All you care about is our image!" She exclaimed gasping for air, "I wish you never became rich, I want the old you back,"

His hands wrapped around her instantly. No hesitation. Her scent filled his nostrils and his body automatically relaxed. De ja vu was hitting him hard.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say. "Let me fix this, please my love?"

"C-Chan I can't. I can't do this anymore," she cried harder. A panic attack slowly passing by.

"Shhh, hey? Look at me. We're okay. I will fix this. I love you so much." He whispered while leaving kisses on her forehead.

"Can we finish up from the hospital and talk at home? Please my love,"

"Fine," she sighed, "but I'll go use the bathroom to wash up."

So she did, she washed her face and made her way to their daughters room where she found Chan goofing around with Soo-min. The poor little girl was so intrigued by her father that she forgot all about the bandaid they were wrapping her up with.

"Mum, are we still going to my play?" She asked softly. Y/n had totally forgot. How could she forget?

"Yes my love, let me talk to your dad really quickly, go get your bag," she giggled and quickly grabbed her bag, "can we stop by Yoona's house mama?"

"Yes princess, we can but only if you behave," the little girl smiled and quickly sat in the chair waiting for her mum to finish having a conversation with her dad.

"Chan, I have to take Ji-Yeon for her play, I totally forgot. Can you finish up here? I'll meet you at the house in like 2 hours,"

"Yeah sure, are you sure you wanna go for the play? You don't look too good love, I can go instead..."

"'No, I've got it. Once your finished up here, I called the chef to cook her some soup. Just feed it to her and then put her to sleep," she instructed Chan, "also make sure when you warm her bottle it's room temperature, she doesn't like it too hot or too cold. Also when you put her in bed you have to cuddle her Chan only for 5 minutes and she'll be out like a light."

Chan admired her as she wrote down the instructions down on the paper. Watching her be so controlling and being such a good mother was low key turning him on.

"Babe, we will be okay. I've done this before-"

"Yeah like 3 years ago before you became mr boss man," she teased her and quickly gave Soo-min a kiss on the cheek.

"Mummy loves you princess, I'll see you in a bit," the little girl waved at her mum and continued to admire the pink plaster that wrapped around her hand.

#skz imagines #skz comfort #skz x reader #straykids x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids as boyfriend material #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x y/n #stray kids imagines #bangchan angst #bangchan fluff #bang chan x reader #bangchan x reader #skz angst #skz x y/n #skz stay #skz x you

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luveline · 6 months

Note

Hi, I’ve never sent a request before so forgive me if this sounds weird I’m still learning how to use Tumblr lol but what if Eddie and reader go to Roan’s school for parent-teacher conference and her teacher shows them something Roan wrote or made expressing how much she loves her new mom and her new little family🩷 and reader cries from how happy and loved Roan and Eddie make her feel🥹

ty for ur request, it doesn't sound weird at all! eddie and roan —you and eddie attend roan's PT conference, stepmother!reader, 1.2k

You hide from the biting winter wind in Eddie's side. “Is it supposed to be this cold?” you ask.

“You sound surprised. It's December,” he says, though he puts his arm over your shoulders to cover as much of you as he can. “I told you to wear a coat.”

“The coat ruins my outfit,” you say.

“You being cold ruins the outfit.” He nods towards the step up into the school building. “You could say the outfit ruins what's underneath–”

“What's wrong with you?”

“An appreciation for my wife?”

“Stop saying that, you're confusing people. Steve asked me last night if we got married in private–”

“You're always talking to Steve,” Eddie complains, “he doesn't even call me anymore, he just wants to talk to you.”

He'd called to ask if he was still babysitting, actually, but Eddie wouldn't know that because he and Roan had been playing monsters at the time, speaking to each other in gruff tones while they made sandwiches for dinner.

“You have a problem.”

Eddie can't decide whether to bicker or dote, squeezing you tightly, a promise about new problems lost to the growing ruckus of the elementary school after hours. Some parents have brought their children, but the majority stand chatting in lines to see the teachers. You and Eddie have come through the main entrance of the building rather than the side door where Roan enters, and the walk to Mrs. Lundy's room is longer than usual, though far from unpleasant. Light shines through the windows where a rainbow of creatures have been painted, leaving glowing shapes of apricot, cerulean, and lilac on your skin as you pass.

“You're like a Christmas tree,” Eddie says.

“I just need some tinsel.” You point at the decorations hanging from Mrs. Lundy's doorway. “Like that.”

“You want some tinsel? I'll get you some tinsel, baby, just give me a minute. And maybe distract her.”

You refuse to help him steal from Mrs. Lundy, and spend your time in line waiting with his hands held firmly in yours to prohibit any theft. Eddie moans about being jailed but is otherwise content. He quite likes it, actually, rearranging your fingers to stroke your knuckles.

Mrs. Lundy is smiling, happy to see you and brag about your girl. She starts with Roan's general education, her behaviour, her grades, though this young she doesn't have grades so much as milestones. Roan is smart but no wizz kid (not that you care), she's kind (but not always good at sharing), she's loud, and rambunctious, a great artist, and she's very, very happy.

“She talks about your wedding all the time. Every day. She tells us she's going to be the flower girl, and the best man, and that she has a beautiful dress.” Mrs. Lundy beams. “She's walking on sunshine.” The teacher's smile turns soft, almost wistful. “Well, she's Roan. You know what she's like better than I do.”

Your cheeks ache with pride.

“She's a good kid,” Eddie says.

“Yes!” Mrs. Lundy reaches across the desk for a turquoise-coloured folder. “There was actually something I wanted to share with you both… You know we have creative writing assignments, and obviously we help them with making real sentences, but what she has to say is very much of her own volition.”

Mrs. Lundy pulls a sheet of paper from the folder and puts it down in front of your hands. “The prompt was what makes you happy,” she says.

The first sentence is simple.

My mommy.

A drawing of you decorates the page above the lines, so clearly you, your smile wide and pink.

My mommy is kind and I love her. Dad sayd the wedding is speshul becase he loves her, but she will be my mom. She makes me so happy. Mommy says she loves me all of the time, and she brushus my hair. My best part of the day is when Y/N comes home and hugs me. We are so happy, and Lucky gets dinner. I love my dad too, and Uncle Wayn.

Her spelling errors have been corrected in green pen, and her backwards letters are written forwards for her to copy. You read the entire paragraph in a blur, thinking about how long it must've taken her to get it all down, nearly an entire page in her bubbly handwriting, big letters running off of the page.

“Needless to say,” Mrs. Lundy says, “that most children write about their families, or their pets, or their toys. But Roan was extremely focused on the word love. She's clearly going home to a loving home every night.” Mrs. Lundy smiles at Eddie. You nearly miss it, reading the paragraph again, and then a third time.

“Can I take this?” you ask, clearing your throat, tears brewed and bobbing on your waterline, desperate to be shed. “Is that okay?”

Eddie laughs and elbows you in the arm. “Come on, it's hardly news.”

You wipe your eyes before you can cry in front of them both. “I'm sorry, just– can I?”

Mrs. Lundy beams again, emphasising the well-worn smile lines at the corners of her lips and creasing beside her eyes.

You hold it together well for a little while. Eddie talks over your wobbly silence, a hand on your shoulder, assuring Mrs. Lundy that you're all, in fact, very happy, and he's just glad that Roan is being a good student and friend to her classmates. Mrs. Lundy's kindness and Roan's love letter to you has knocked you entirely off kilter, and you're crying before you've reached the car. They're happy tears.

“Come on,” Eddie says, taking the paper you've folded carefully from your fingers as they clench. “She's said nicer to you in person.”

And sure she has. Roan loves hitting you with the saccharine when you're not expecting it. Drying her hair after bath time, totally distracted, she'll kiss your cheek and say, “You're so pretty.” She sprinkles I love you's wherever they'll fit like her dad does, and she shows it with little gifts and cuddles and invitations. Y/N, do you want to have a fashion show with me? Y/N, can we have ice cream in bed? Can I do your hair, please, mommy?

“It's different. It's different,” you insist, scrambling to find the words. “She's…” You rub your eyes. Your makeup is smudging, but you can't help it. “I don't even know what to say.”

Eddie shrugs. Lean shoulders, a loving arm behind your back, the car in sight but getting no closer, he comforts you in the middle of the parking lot while the passing headlights kiss your shoes. “You know how much she loves you, babe. This is a good thing, right? You're not upset?”

“Not upset,” you clarify.

“Okay, good. Is this a bad time for me to say that I am profoundly jealous right now? I used to get all the drawings and cards, I used to get Mother's day gifts. I have a mother's day card up in the attic… might have to get it out,” —he kisses your cheek— “just to cope.”

You laugh through a sniffle. “Let's go get it,” you say.

He presses Roan's assignment back into your hand. “You can keep that one, but don't get it out around me. I'm serious.”

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strstab · 5 months

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 — 𝐭.𝐛.

summary ; tom decides to ‘propose’ to you during a dinner with your cast members

pairing ; tom blyth x fem!reader

notes ; TBOSAS cast, fluff, v light mentions of alc? kinda pda, idk js some sweet stuff

a/n ; guys i’m so badly in love with this man like… also this is so short pls forgive me🥲

you and some of the cast from tbosas were back in nyc, celebrating the wrap up of the film at a restaurant with one of the most gorgeous views ever. the city lights, buildings, people, and cars were all visible, and it truly was a sight for sore eyes. you wouldn’t stop babbling about how pretty it was to tom while you waited for the waiters to seat you guys. although he didn’t mind. he simply just nodded along with a smile as you spoke with passion in your eyes.

currently you sat next to your boyfriend, his hand resting lightly on your thigh as you conversed with rachel about how difficult it was to play the guitar. it was something you were always fascinated by but never quite understood.

you felt the warmth of tom’s hand disappear from its place on your thigh. glancing over at him, you saw him fumbling around with a napkin in his hand. you shrugged it off as nothing and continued your conversation with rachel.

“yeah! like it’s just so hard, and don’t even get me started about how much worse it is with nails..” you complained.

“speaking of nails, i need a manicure.” rachel noted, laying her hand out to look at her nails which were in perfect shape.

“oh, don’t remind me.” you chuckled and leaned your head on tom’s shoulder. wiggling your fingers around, you spoke again. "my ring fingers looking quite bare as well... don't you think, baby?"

rachel and josh laughed quietly when tom raised a brow at you, obviously confused as to what you were trying to get at. you shook your head, dismissing him with a laugh.

the waitress poured vodka cranberry into each of your glasses before rachel began to discuss what her dream wedding would be like. hunter piped in, giggling about how cute it'd be for her walk to down the aisle with her dog. you began teasing josh about when he was going to pop the question, earning a playful eye roll from him.

"i should be asking you that! well, tom. you guys have been dating for centuries." he retorted.

the brunette next to you looked up at the mention of his name. the corner of his mouth twitched up into a slight smirk. "actually, its been four years and 9 months."

"so almost half a decade?"

"don't tell me you've got the days and seconds," hunter teased, a grin on her face. you giggled to yourself quietly. knowing how your boyfriend was, he probably did.

tom pressed a kiss to your head and went back to messing around with his napkin as he and josh shot snarky jokes at each other. they settled down when the food arrived, placed in front of you on beautiful tableware. the borders of the plates were painted with golden patterns. the thought of stealing the plate and taking it home had even crossed your mind.

the cold liquid of your cranberry flavored beverage sliced your tongue when you felt a tug on your dress, followed by a familiar accent besides your ear.

“psst. sweetheart,” tom whispered. with a turn of the head, you looked down at his hands. in his hold was a paper napkin shaped into a ring. "will you do me the honor of becoming my... wife? fiance? wait which is it?" he glanced at josh, eliciting a soft laugh from you.

a breathy laugh came from his lips and he brought the ring closer to you. a sweet smile covered your face as you held your hand out. "I would love to be your wife-fiance."

tom slid the paper ring around your ring finger, bringing your hand up to his pink lips and kissing it gently. your friends squealed and clapped, someone groaned and told the two of you to 'get a room'. your lips met tom's for a second before whispering into his ear.

"its wife, by the way."

"stop. i knew that!" he rolled his eyes, nudging you away.

you giggled and wiggled your fingers around, putting your ring out on display for everyone to see. "oh yeahh, I'm an engaged woman now."

"only took four years and 9 months," nick joked from the other side of the table.

you brought the wine glass to your lips, taking another sip. "haters gonna hate."

rachel laughed. tom's hand was back on your thigh, his thumb rubbing against your soft skin. everyone was back to eating and light conversation was heard around the table. strands of brown hair tickled your neck and warm breath hit your ear. "how about we work on making you a pregnant engaged woman?"

you gasped, smacking his forearm. "tom!"

he chuckled against your ear before leaning back. “that wasn’t a no.”

i wanted to write for this man so bad but had no ideas and no motivation so here’s this.. anyways i LOVED the hunger games and im so happy they turned tbosas into a film.

apologies for how poorly written this is LMAO

update: i’m currently working on an enemies to lovers tom blyth little story so pls come back for that

— enjoy your day and have a happy new years!! 🫶

#fluff #strstab #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #actors #fem reader #proposal #rachel zegler #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #lucy gray baird #hunter schafer #the hunger games #hunger games

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ja3yun · 3 months

Note

Can i make a request?

Y/n saw this post and rant about bf!jake about this, only to be pounded by him as peace offering (breeding kink, talks about marriage, overstimulation) 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🙏🏻

https://twitter.com/asterjwon/status/1762378305490338241?t=yDIAkzHkDVx87C4_6BjXJg&s=19

hi! I don't normally take requests but this one was too good. the video has plagued me since i saw it 😩 when will it be me? hope this what you're looking for!

warnings: smut (mdni), breeding kink, overstimulation, cream pie, tummy bulge, mentions of jealousy and pregnancy, not proofread, anything else lmk!

w.c: 1.2k

-----

“I can’t believe you,” you scoff, folding your arms to mimic the disgruntledness within your body.

Jake stares at you bewildered, “Seriously? Because I put a ring on a fan's finger?” you’re usually so understanding about these things. Typically, you never bother being jealous, he’s always been flirty with others, his fanservice on another level compared to others.

So why is this one bothering you so much?

“You don’t get it, Jake. Just forget it,” your voice is wavering but you hide it behind a deep breath.”

He walks towards you, cupping your cheek with his hand, “Are you really gonna act like this?” his words are harsh but he’s only trying to coax an explination from you, “It’s my job, Y/N.”

“I know it’s part of your job, Jake, I’m not stupid,” you bite back, pushing him away slightly.

Jake stands there, not used to this cold side of you, it makes him think if this has just beem bottling up inside you since you both started dating.

Sighing, he rubs his hands over his face in frustration, “I know you”re not stupid, but fuck Y/N, I can’t read your mind,” his voice raises slightly but he’s trying to keep his composure.

“You’re so quick to accept marraige proposals, get fake married at fansigns, and speak all day like about your future wife on lives but as soon as I want to talk about us and our future, you cower away!” you let it all out, the tension in your shoulders lifting slightly from all the pent up anger.

You’ve been holding it in for months but placing a ring on another woman’s finger, fan or not, has tipped you over the edge. Jake has avoided any talk regarding marriage or kids, opting to make a quick lighthearted joke or changing the subject, however, there is only so many ‘we can start practising’ and ‘did you see that book you like is beng made into a movie’ you can take.

After you’ve ranted about your troubles, you hear the unthinkable - he laughs. Not like a hearty laugh but a snicker which somehow is even worse.

“Are you seriously laughing about this right now?” you glare at him, hoping you just heard wrong, yet there he is, smiling his head off.

He glides towards you, placing his hands on your hips, “Baby, no, I’m not laughing,” he said through chuckles which obviously doesn’t help his case, “You’re just so cute when you’re jealous.”

Brushing your hair away from your neck, he begins to scatter kisses all over the base, working his way up. His lips linger, tongue flicking on your skin ever so slightly just to tease you.

Losing focus, you stutter, “I-I’m not jealous.”

“But you are, baby,” his grip tightens a little on your hips as he presses himself against you, eliciting a moan from you, “You know you have nothing to be jealous of.”

He trails his fingers from your waist to the bottom of your tummy, playing with the waistband of your trousers. His sudden provocative touch making you crumble, forgetting what you’re even angry about.

“You’re the only one I’m going to spend the rest of my life with,” he whispers into your ear, the tips of his fingers crawling into your trousers and placing themselves teasingly at your entrance, “And you’re certainly the only one I’m fucking and filling up with my cum,” two of his fingers enter you suddenly, you grip onto his shoulders.

His thumb attaches itself to your clit, rubbing it roughly as his fingrr curl into you. Jake’s lips are ghosting over yours as he smirks, feeling your ragged breath, “You like that idea hmm? For me to make you mine and marry you? Fuck my kids into you?” his spare hand sneaks under your t-shirt and rubs over your stomach tenderly, “What if I fill you up until you’re so full there’s no choice but to get pregnant?”

You’ve never been more turned on in your life, the mix of his words with the way his fingers are moving inside your pussy so deliciously has you purring.

But before you can get too comfortable, he pushes you onto the bed and yanks your bottoms down, leaving you exposed to his gaze.

Once he discards you and him of all your clothes, he crawls onto you, his hand resuming his previous activities, except this time with more vigour. His cock throbs as it sits on your inner thigh, only making you ache more for him.

Jake focuses on rubbing your sensitive nub, feeling how close you are already, “Who did you think I meant when I spoke about my future wife?” he smooches along the mounts of your breasts, taking your nipples in his mouth as he passes them.

Your head is cloudy, too lost in the feeling of his lips on you and his fingers working you open, your clit throbbing on his thumb. The mewls that are falling from your mouth hit him straight to his cock, making it jump slightly.

“Cmon, Y/N, who did you think I was talking about?” he asks again, picking up the speed of his digits.

“M-me,” you breathe out after mustering up the words that are tangled in your pleasure.

“So why the jealousy, hmm?” his voice is too calm, a stark opposite to your writhing body and busy mind. He can feel your walls clamping down and your slick dripping down his hand, indicating how close you are, “You’re so silly, baby,” he mocks you slightly but only because he can’t imagine why you would take his fanservice to heart like that.

You feel the familiar heat rising in your stomach as you tense, feeling your climax wash over you, “Fuck, Jake!,” you cry out his name while you dig your fingers into his shoulders.

The sensation of you coming undone only serves to fuel his desires even more, his dick longing to be the one you’re squeezing around. Swiftly, he removes his hand from your heat, leaving you empty but not for long.

Quickly, he lines up at your entrance and pushes inside you, your hole still contracting and tight from your orgasm. He isn’t giving you a moment to breathe, to recover from your climax.

Jake’s thrusts drive into you at great speed, the way your walls are hugging him tightly is driving him to pound into you deeper.

“You feel so fucking incredible,” he huskily whispers, his thumb back on the attack of your bud.

Your pussy is being overstimulated, each thrust of his hips and rub from his thumb has you thrashing around under him, a mix of pain and pleasure, “Jake, s’too much,” you groan as your hands weakly try to hold his hips still.

But he is too far gone, lost inside you, “You want me to stop?” he asks cheekily, a smirk splayed over his face, “Isn’t this what you want? For me to fill you up?”

Your clit is burning, your hole is being stretched beyond belief and you really don’t want him to stop, not your mind anyway, yet your body is trying to fight him, the overstimulation all a bit too much.

It feels so fucking good though.

Jake is getting close, you can tell when his hips faulter slightly and his jaw tenses. You want him to cum soon, if not to give your pussy a break, to give you what you desperately crave.

Reaching down, you clasp your hand around his wrist and remove his thumb from your nub - relief instantly washing over you - and place it on your stomach, his cock bulging with each buck of his hips.

He looks down and feels it, the tip of his cock poking out just under your belly button, “Fuck, Y/N. You’re gonna look so cute carrying our kid,” he says whistfully, voice full of love and adoration.

Kissing your lips hungrily, you feel another orgasm flushing through your body, that coil snapping once again as you clench his length, legs wrapping around him to hold him still as you ride it out.

Jake spurts ropes of his seed deep into you, making good of his promise to fill you up. The pulse of his dick adds even more gratification to you, the feeling of it jumping inside you makes you shake.

The room is filled with echoes of your shared pants and profanities, Jake's body falling on top of you once he’s rode out his high.

Looking up at you, his head laid on your chest, he smiles, “You’re unreal.”

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, you nod in agreement, “You too, baby,” you lean down to kiss his forehead lovingly.

“You know, I can’t wait to marry you,” he begins to speak, tracing shapes into your side, “I just want it to be at a time in our lives where I can actually be there for you. Once we’re settled and I’m not touring twenty-four seven. I want you to have a husband that’s always there when you need him, to help raise our family.”

His confession throws you off a little but your heart soars at the realisation that he has thought about your future together just as much as you have.

“And I promise, I won’t place rings on anyone’s fingers unless it’s yours,” he beams up at you, meaning every single word.

-----

#enhypen smut #enha smut #i hope this is okay?#i wrote it on my lunch break lmao #again i dont take reqs often so #this is a special occasion #bc that vid destroyed me #jake smut #aj answers #aj writes

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bosbas · 1 month

Text

Chapter 8: this is falling in love in the cruelest way

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, heavily going off of book canon, me stirring the pot (im sorry)(no im not), PINING!!!!!!!, anthony being very much in love with his wife

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: guys i'm sorry but this picture is INSANE. the THIGHS??? HELLO? i am looking respectfully.......👁️👁️

June 5, 1816 – And yesterday, much to this author’s surprise, Lord Barlow reportedly proposed to Lady Montclair! This proposal comes unexpectedly after the Duke’s promiscuity with Miss Barrington at the Bridgerton ball a few weeks ago. Given the fact that Miss Barrington has been compromised, it is incredibly shocking that Lord Arthur Barlow would do something like this in polite society. Luckily, Lady Montclair remains a single woman and swiftly rejected her former beau’s proposal. But this only begs the question: why did the Duke propose? Is Lady Montclair simply too alluring to pass up, or is something else amiss between Lord Barlow and Miss Barrington?

“Oh, thank God,” muttered Colin under his breath, his eyes quickly scanning Lady Whistledown’s column as he sat on a bench in the garden.

“What’s that you’re reading, brother?” asked Anthony, ears perking up at Colin’s scandalous language, even if it was just between brothers.

Colin felt a slight blush forming on his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was speaking out loud, having been too caught up in the news that you had finally received a proposal from Lord Barlow. It was a lovely day out, and Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were in the gardens of Number 5 Bruton Street after a round of fencing.

Of course, once Francesca had come outside holding a copy of Whistledown to read in the gazebo, Colin had stolen it out of her hands and abandoned his brothers in favor of catching up on the ton’s happenings. Though no one should have been surprised by his interest, really, given that you were the main topic of most of the gossip sheets nowadays.

“Nothing,” Colin answered quickly, trying to recover from his blunder. “It’s bizarre how invested one becomes in Whistledown while living here. Is this what every summer is like when one isn’t traveling for half the time?”

“In essence, yes,” answered Benedict, still jabbing at the air with his épée as Anthony stared at him amusedly. “What does she have to say today?”

“Lord Barlow proposed to Lady Montclair yesterday,” said Colin, a slight edge to his voice. “And he looked a sight while doing it, too, apparently.”

Benedict dropped his foil, turning around to fully face Colin with a shocked look on his face. “And what did she say?” he pressed, intrigued about the outcome of this curious development. It was practically unimaginable that the Duke had proposed to you after defiling another lady in the ton, and Benedict hadn't considered him capable.

Anthony clapped him on the back, smirking at Colin as he did so. “Well, did you not hear the man say, ‘thank God’? Obviously, she said no.”

Colin crossed his arms, immediately defensive. “It wasn’t that obvious! She could have said yes, and my ‘thank God’ could have been because she would’ve finally left me alone. Duchesses have a lot to do; I doubt she’d find the time to be irritating while attending to her duties in the country.”

Benedict and Anthony gave their brother unimpressed looks, watching amusedly as he squirmed under their gaze.

“I assure you, brother, that there was absolutely no possibility of that being the case,” said Benedict jovially, earning a snort from Anthony.

But before Benedict could laugh, too, Colin lunged at him, épée in hand as he glared playfully at his brother. Finding himself unarmed, Benedict yelped and ran toward the house, citing a very important painting to attend to before sprinting back inside.

Turning to Colin, Anthony smiled curiously. “So, it’s true, then? What Daphne said?”

“What did Daphne say?” asked Colin innocently, dreading the conversation that would follow.

“Don’t be daft. That you love Y/N.”

Colin rolled his eyes, letting out an impatient sigh. “I don’t love her; that’s ridiculous, Anthony! A mere two weeks ago, we absolutely despised each other. I hardly think I could love her now.”

But even as he said those words, Colin questioned whether he actually meant them. Could he love you? He hadn’t ever felt this way about anyone, but then again, no one had ever vexed him quite like you. Though lately, he had been finding the line between irritation and fascination to be quite blurred. So blurry, in fact, that he was having trouble seeing a line at all.

Having clearly overheard part of the conversation, Gregory ran up to his brothers, laughing hysterically as Hyacinth chased him. He stopped and let his sister catch up, smiling evilly at the older Bridgertons “Colin loves who, now?”

Hyacinth arrived a few moments later, panting heavily. “Y/N, of course,” she stated while trying to catch her breath, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“What? What do you mean? Why do say that?” pressed Colin. Why did everyone in his family seem to think that he loved you? Surely they saw the two of you bickering incessantly, right? Your feud was so famous it had even made it to Lady Whistledown’s column. Colin couldn’t understand how anyone could think he had so much affection for you.

Hyacinth raised an eyebrow at her older brother, unamused. “Colin, I am not an idiot. Though perhaps you might be,” she added brightly. And before Colin could respond, she quickly turned to her eldest brother. “Now, Anthony, could you please tell Gregory to give me back my quill?” she begged.

Gregory, scoffed, glaring at his sister. “I’d only borrowed it for a moment! And I only did so because Hyacinth hid mine! Anthony, she’s being unreasonable,” he whined.

Anthony affectionately patted them both on the head and flashed a faux sympathetic smile. “I rather think both of you are being quite the nuisance right now.”

At times, Anthony found himself slipping into the role of a father figure to his youngest siblings. It was an unspoken duty he assumed after their father's passing. Yet, it was important to occasionally remind them that he was still their brother.

Hyacinth responded with a frustrated groan, her teeth grinding audibly, thoroughly vexed with her brother. However, the sight of Gregory's smug smile reignited her fury, and she immediately charged at him. Despite being older than Hyacinth, Gregory wasn't foolish enough to underestimate her, and he took off in a panic, screaming as he tried to outpace his deceptively quick sister.

Colin shook his head in amusement as he watched the antics of his youngest siblings. “Were Daphne and I truly like that?”

“Worse,” said Anthony flatly, but he couldn’t mask the warmth and fondness interlaced in his words.

At that, Anthony began to turn back toward the house. “Well, I must be-”

“Wait!” interrupted Colin. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had stopped his brother, other than the fact that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the possibility that he could love you. You, the person he supposedly hated. The person who certainly hated him.

But, as always, Anthony was the right person to talk to about this. He would know what to say. Though it was well known that Anthony was completely smitten with his wife, Colin remembered a time when the pair seemed to dislike each other fairly intensely.

After a few moments of charged silence, Colin met Anthony’s expectant gaze. Swallowing his pride, he spoke up. “Purely hypothetically, and simply out of curiosity, when did you fall in love with Kate?”

Anthony smiled, amused. “Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, putting a hand to his chin. “As long as it's purely out of curiosity,” he teased. “It wasn’t like I simply fell in love with her one day, Colin.”

“Yes, but if you had to pinpoint a moment?” pressed Colin, slightly exasperated. If anything, he needed to know if he had experienced that moment himself.

Anthony’s gaze softened, and he suddenly saw a lot of himself in Colin’s uncertainty and pause when it came to a woman who profusely vexed him. “I found Kate in the library the night after we played Pall Mall for the first time,” he recalled fondly. “We were at Aubrey Hall for the country party and it was raining outside quite loudly, a terrible storm. She was huddled underneath a desk because she was scared of the storm. I very quickly realized I couldn’t hate her anymore. Not properly, anyway. Not when I just wanted to sit on the floor with her and protect her from the storm, and anything else that might come her way.”

His voice had softened as he spoke about his wife, recalling the moment he truly knew there was no way out. Anthony had tried to deny it to himself after, but his protests simply held no conviction after that night.

“You never told me that,” said Colin thoughtfully, not missing the glint of emotion in his brother’s eyes as he talked about his now-wife.

“Yes, well, the real challenge was getting her to love me back,” he said, coming out of his musings. “And that didn’t happen for quite some time after that. It was rather premature of me to declare my love for this woman while I supposedly hated her and was still technically courting her sister.”

It was truly a wonder that he and Kate were married now. But when it was meant to be, it was meant to be, Anthony supposed. Something that was proving to be particularly true of you and his brother. If Colin, who had a deep-seated need to be liked by anyone and everyone, could fall in love with you, the only person who didn’t actually like him, then surely it was meant to be.

Colin, still deep in thought, chewed his lip nervously. “And how did you get her to fall in love with you?”

“We were caught in a… compromising position. She had been stung by a bee and I… Well, I’m sure you recall,” said Anthony, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy as he remembered the circumstances that allowed him to marry his wife. “It’s far easier to get a woman to love you when she’s already your wife,” he finished sympathetically.

Colin choked back a laugh. “Unfortunately, I can’t very well put Lady Montclair in a compromising position, can I?” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“But Colin, I thought this was all hypothetical,” teased Anthony, playfully punching his brother on the shoulder.

Colin cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance as Anthony continued laughing at him. “Never mind. I’m off to find Eloise,” he muttered, patting the eldest Bridgerton on the back and leaving him free to go dote on his wife.

After speaking with Anthony, Colin had a renewed sense of purpose. He had to find out why you hated him. He was so utterly exhausted of hating you and of having this tiresome charade of fighting with each other at every available moment. At this point, he didn’t particularly care who in the ton liked him or not. Colin knew he would happily take the entire ton’s wrath for the rest of his life if it meant you loved him.

But he needed to know just how unrealistic his hopes were. Eloise would be the best–and perhaps only–person who would know.

Colin found his sister practicing needlepoint in the sitting room, focused intensely on the material in front of her. It was unclear whether she was trying to sew the fabric or her finger, given how often she was pricking herself as she attempted to thread the needle.

“El!” he called by the doorway, pausing when he saw his sister grimace after pricking herself once again. “I can return later if you’re busy.”

“No! No, please interrupt. Thank heavens,” gasped Eloise, grateful to be able to do something other than draw her blood.

Colin laughed, amused, and suddenly felt a tad sheepish. Was he truly about to ask about you? To ask about you to Eloise, who would no doubt hold this over his head for the rest of eternity? But he had to know. He had to ask, at the very least.

“I was just…I was wondering if you knew why Lady Montclair hates me,” he asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Eloise let out a snort. “Well, I can’t imagine she’d be hard-pressed to find a reason why, given how you treat her.”

Seeing her brother’s crestfallen face, Eloise immediately sobered. Standing up and walking toward him, she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “I thought you disliked her as well,” she said in a questioning tone.

“Of course I do,” clarified Colin quickly. “But she hated me first and I still don’t know why. I thought she might have said something to you, given how close the two of you are. Do you know at all?”

Eloise clicked her tongue in sympathy, looking at Colin with concern. Perhaps his feelings did run deeper than anyone thought, and the recent dancing and promenading were more than just Colin being his usual charming self around you. “I’m sure I have no idea, Col. But you could always just talk to her.”

Colin shook his head, smiling sadly at his sister. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? She doesn’t usually seem very eager to speak with me.”

Sure, the two of you had been getting along recently. But that had only been twice. And was that really enough to undo the weeks of hatred?

---

It was a particularly delightful Wednesday afternoon, and you found yourself feeding the ducks at Hyde Park as you watched Isabelle and Charlotte skip rocks across the pond. Though you loved Louis to bits, it was a lovely feeling to have both of your sisters home with you. There was simply something about being out in society that he could never quite understand like them, though not for lack of trying.

After lunch, you, Charlotte, and Isabelle had managed to sneak out of the house just as the post-meal discussion grew rowdy. It was not unheard of to have such lively discussions in the Montclair household, and you frequently even enjoyed them. But there were some days, like today, that you frankly just wanted to have a quiet afternoon with a baguette and about a dozen ducks. Luckily, your sisters had decided to join you, and the three of you had set off toward the park in search of a flock of birds to feed.

It seemed that the ducks had taken much more of a liking to you than to your sisters, and they had grown disinterested in the endeavor. Charlotte and Isabelle had opted to give you their remaining bread and take a stroll around the mostly empty park, and you couldn’t say that you were complaining. Coming from such a large family, it was a rare luxury to have an afternoon largely to yourself.

A while later, after most of the ducks found themselves happily full, you spotted a stumbling figure making its way toward you. As you turned to your sisters with a questioning look, you were disappointed to find them in deep conversation facing away from you, neither one of them noticing you.

As the figure neared, you realized who it was: Nigel Berbrooke. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt your stomach drop, unpleasant memories of him and his disgusting words flooding your brain. You had no desire to speak to this man, and you looked around for anyone you could speak with instead. But you had not brought a lady’s maid, and everyone else was too far to intervene.

“Lady Montclair,” said Nigel, with what looked to be an attempt at a seductive smile on his face.

You stood up from your crouching position rigidly and turned to face him. You were unable to form any words, discomfort far outweighing any other emotion you were feeling. This had to be his first time back this season after his absence, you thought. You hadn’t seen him at any events since the Danbury ball, and you rather thought you would have noticed him, looking as vile as he did now.

His nose was a tad more crooked than on the night you had met him, and the bags under his eyes were ghastly. But perhaps it was just your perception of him, knowing what you did about who he was.

“Mr. Berbrooke,” you settled for saying, nose crinkling as you caught a whiff of the pungent smell of alcohol emanating off of him.

“A promenade?” he asked roughly, reaching for your hand without permission. “It’s a lovely afternoon, it would be a shame to waste it.”

“Oh, Mr. Berbrooke, we were just about to head home,” you pointed your head toward your sisters, panicked.

Isabelle and Charlotte were far too immersed in their conversation to look like they were ready to head home, but you prayed that Nigel’s inebriated state would distract him from this.

He growled at you, clearly displeased at your rejection. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Montclair. Your dowry, as well as your other…assets, are far too good to pass up,” he slurred, very obviously staring at your chest. “It’s a shame Colin’s gotten to you first.”

You were scandalized, opening your mouth to chastise him, or to scream for help, or anything that could get you out of this situation, really, but he cut you off before you could say anything.

"I've heard Lord Barlow abandoned you, and truth be told, it's hardly shocking," he taunted, his voice laced with disdain as he regarded you with a sneer. "You insist on playing the coy maiden, denying every man what he craves. It's the only reason they’re after you now, you see? They want what you didn't give Arthur. And it appears Colin has taken the lead in the chase, the lucky bastard."

His words brought you crashing back down to reality. Of course, he was colluding with Colin. You had conveniently overlooked that fact as you found yourself becoming bashful in his presence, feeling secure, even desiring his company after these recent days. A surge of bile rose in your throat.

You felt tears prickling in your eyes, and you were impossibly angry with yourself for forgetting the very reason you despised Colin Bridgerton. How could you have let yourself forget? He was still the same man you overheard at the Danbury ball, and you were too embarrassed to admit that his charm had worked on you.

You were disgusted with Nigel and Colin, but also with yourself. You were more than this, you chided. How could you have let this happen? The two men were clearly no good, and you had unwittingly allowed yourself to be ensnared, much like you had with Lord Barlow.

“Excuse me,” you said roughly, dodging Mr. Berbrooke’s outstretched hand as you ran toward where Isabelle and Charlotte were standing, propriety be damned.

“On va chez nous. Tout de suite,” you said to them urgently, practically begging as you tugged on Isabelle’s hand (We’re going home. Right now).

Charlotte looked at you, confused, and then noticed you glancing nervously at Nigel as he approached, angrily staggering over to you as his face contorted into an ugly scowl.

“Ah, I’m terribly sorry Mr. Berbrooke,” Isabelle said firmly, “but it seems we have to go.”

Not waiting for a response, your sisters hooked their arms in yours and hurriedly walked back from where you came. They’d be damned if he let anything else happen to you after what happened with Lord Barlow, and they were not about to waste any time.

Nigel only grunted, displeased, but let the three of you go without protest. Both of your sisters’ husbands were very powerful men, and Nigel was not so deluded as to forget his place in society.

“Y/N?” Charlotte questioned softly once you were sufficiently far away enough.

But you were too embarrassed, tears streaming down your face as you choked back sobs. How could you have let yourself fall for Colin’s charm? You knew exactly who he was, and you had ignored it anyway. It didn’t matter that he made you feel safe and that the two of you had more in common than you cared to admit. He would never respect you, and you could never love him.

Nigel had come at just the right time, you thought sullenly. Right as you were thinking you could finally overlook your rivalry with Colin, right as the memory of why you disliked him in the first place was fading. And thank heavens he did. You would not be taken for a fool again, by Colin or by Lord Barlow or by anyone.

—

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