kitty 🥞

ukyt enthusiast & melancholic brunette ⋆°❀.ೃ࿔⋆ open to take requests! ⋆°❀.ೃ࿔⋆

[clarkeyskissco]

hello my love!! (ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

i was wondering if you were maybe considering making an NSFW alphabet for Arthur Hill? your posts for Will, AB, and Arthur F were so yum and i'm craving more (respectfully) :3

totally ok if not!!

hey gorg!!!! eek thank u so much!’n I will be making one for the most beautiful man ever ofc ! Do not worry the nsfw arthur hill alphabet is pending 😋😋 hopefully should be out asap, I’ll probs release it before the au fic I’m writing for him xx

[clarkeyskissco]

5.8k words into the knight!arthur hill and princess fic…..they are still enemies. apologies in advance for how long this will be idrgaf cos I’ve become hyper fixated on them ❤️

[buttlesbunnie]

DEATH SENTENCE ── a.buttle ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary: hearing your name be picked was never ideal, especially not for your people.

content: mentions of death , reader is specifically 18 years old , fictional district eleven members , angst , mentions of loss of parent , physical disability , poverty & malnourishment , corrupt government , undertones of racism (canon district eleven treatment)

notes: I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS SERIES AHHHH gosh i loved reader and arthur sm but very excited to be doing reader and alfie !!! my goal is to complete the entire hunger games au before sotr comes out which sounds doable but …

wc: 3,190

taglist: @strwmiu @georgesclarkey @lostdeerinthemist @l3nney @gerardswhore @h5nn5ah @arthursartour @abficlibrary @finchytv @kat-w2s8 @saskiaskeetz @blackbeautyiloveyouso @iloverichmen

SILENCE LAID THICK over the fields surrounding your home. Not even the crickets that resided amongst the lengths of sharp blades were creaking half as much as they normally did. This type of silence was the impending type. The type that told you everything without even having to ask.

Despite the sun blaring through your torn, lace curtains, you still felt all life and joy drain from you. The light was supposed to be a sign of hope and fresh starts, a new day to begin from. Except this day had the opportunity to be the beginning of the end. It would be for someone, just hopefully not you.

You didn’t have the time to wallow in your own anxieties and come up with fifty solutions for things that hadn’t even happened yet. You had responsibilities, children, to look after.

Your knuckles wrapped on the rotting wood of their bedroom door, “C’mon my little bunnies, up you get.”

You sought out the bathroom, allowing yourself to have a quick bath and brief brush of your teeth before dressing yourself in something similar to what you wore every year on this damning day.

Beige or brown, short-sleeved but long at the legs, creating just enough air flow to keep you cool (if you were lucky).

When you got downstairs, the dining room and kitchen was empty, but the living room was occupied by your father and his wheelchair.

He was facing the outer window, overlooking the rest of the District as much as possible. You looked at him with a forlorn expression before sighing and turning away.

“Reader, Kelda did an accident!” Blodwyn exclaimed as she came trotting down the stairs.

“Okay, I’ll sort it.” You replied before shouting up the stairs, “Phel, can you come and sort breakfast out please!”

“Okay!” Your brother shouted back from the bathroom.

You scaled the stairs once more, making your way into the cramped room that held three beds and a makeshift crib. Really, it was makeshift. It was an old, rickety cot that your dad had nailed twigs into the side of to make safety bars so Kelda wouldn’t roll out of it in the middle of the night.

He’d done it shortly after his accident when he was feeling especially useless and self-pitying.

Making your way past your youngest brothers bed (who’s ear you made sure to twist on the way, causing an ‘Ow!’ before he finally got up) you reached into the crib, hauling Kelda into your arms before laying her down on the carpet in the middle and starting to sort out whatever mess she’d made of her nappy.

“Reader, the milk is chunky.” Phelim sighed, standing in the doorway with his shirt half buttoned up.

“Then be resourceful and make something up, or just eat it and deal with it.” You huffed, strapping up a new nappy and cringing at the lack of remaining ones in the packet.

“… Do you want me to go down to the centre after the reaping and—“

“No.” You said firmly, shaking your head, “Under no circumstances do you ever risk putting your name in that bowl more than necessary. Do you understand?”

“But you—“

“Do you understand?”

Phelim sighed, looking towards his younger brother, who was currently dressing himself backwards, and nodded.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Good. Now help your brother get changed, I’ll sort out breakfast.” You kissed the top of his head before grabbing Kelda once more and heading back downstairs.

She babbled mindlessly down your ear, tugging at your partially dried hair.

“Kel, don’t, bunny, that hurts.” You tutted, sitting her in a chair with five pillows stacked on top of each other and making a mush of browning bananas for her to eat.

“Feed her, please.” You held the fork out to Blodwyn.

She nodded, wiping her own mouth with the back of her hand and standing up, starting to feed her baby sister while you made your way into the living room.

Hesitantly, you called out to your dad, waiting for any sign of movement before proceeding forwards.

“We’re all having breakfast in the dining room.”

“Okay.” His voice was gruff and hoarse, having not been used in a while.

“Would you like to join us?”

“… I think that would be quite nice, yes.” He nodded.

With a triumphant smile, you neared him, taking hold of the handles on the back of his wheelchair and manoeuvring him into the dining room.

“Daddy!” Kelda beamed, knocking Blodwyn and her awaiting spoonful to the side.

“Kelda!” She snapped.

“Don’t shout at her.” You retorted, “She’s one. She doesn’t know better.”

Blodwyn grumbled under her breath but continued to feed her baby sister while you chucked some food onto a plate for your dad and handed it to him.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Reader?” Oisin frowned.

“That’s okay. You guys need to fill your bellies.”

“Reader, I’m scared.” Blodwyn whined, tilting her head in your direction and basically nuzzling her forehead against your arm.

“Why?” You sighed, crouching beside her chair.

“What if you or Phel get reaped?”

The question caused the entire room to freeze. Even your dad halted the spoon nearing his mouth.

You shared a look with your brother.

He pulled a disgusted expression, “Don’t be so stupid, Wynnie. This is Reader’s last year. Once she gets past this, we don’t have to worry about her leaving.”

“Yeah, you’ll never be able to get ready of me.” You grinned, booping her nose with your finger.

“What about you, Phel?” Your sister added.

“I won’t get picked. My name isn’t in there enough.”

“Both of your siblings will be fine, Blodwyn. Don’t worry.” Your dad gave her a tender smile, “Now eat up.”

She seemed satisfied by her dad’s words and nodded, tucking into her breakfast.

You mouthed the words ‘thank you’ to him, and all he did was rest his hand on top of yours.

That was all the assurance you needed.

Missing meals didn’t mean anything to you if it meant your siblings had full tummies. They were growing, they needed the nutrients.

An alarm blared from outside, disturbing the domestic peace within your shack of a home.

It caused your blood to run cold and all your siblings to share frightened looks.

The front door of your house was kicked in, and armed men in fully white suits came barging in.

“Get up and go! To the square now!” Their voices boomed, aiming their weaponry at your family.

“We’re going!” Phelim snapped, gathering your younger siblings while you swept Kelda up out of her seat and placed her in your father’s lap as you wheeled him out of the house.

She was trembling in his arms, eyes shining and lower lip vibrating with the fear that coursed through her tiny body at the sight of the Peacekeepers.

You parted ways with the youngest three, giving them all a firm kiss on their heads and hugging them.

Kelda wailed for you as she found herself back in her dad’s lap as you trekked away from her.

“It’s okay, Kel. She’ll be back in an hour!” Oisin whispered encouragingly.

You took Phelim’s hand, holding it tightly for the short amount of time you had left together.

“Find me after.” You whispered to him.

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And then your hands were free, watching your brother walk towards his section that was bombarded by an excessive amount of Peacekeepers.

They lined the streets of District Eleven, their eyes always scouring over the labour fields behind their helmets, staring deep into the souls of the people that resided amongst dirt and insects and just enough food to keep them alive.

Once your finger had been pricked as a sign of attendance, you made your way forwards into the centre square, lining up in order of age. Youngest closest to the stage, oldest further back.

Had this been any other district, you would’ve been frightened about your ability to actually see the stage with you being so far back. But, you knew these people. They were all equally as malnourished as you, meaning their growth was stunted and they barely took up much room.

When Vespera took her place on stage, a sour snarl overtook your face.

You knew she was about to deliver the same languid, boring, hope-bringing speech that she did every year.

Before that though, of course, this stupid, Capitol-enforced video began playing on the screens in front of you.

Nonsense about taking back control, honouring Panem and being united as one after the trying times your ancestors faced during the Dark Ages.

Yeah, segregated districts seem very united.

When the video came to a close, you looked across the courtyard, miraculously finding your brother and locking eyes.

You shared amused, yet bored, smirks before turning your attention back to the stage and the woman standing on it with her bright blue hair and obnoxiously orange outfit.

Previous victors stood behind her. Two, to be specific.

Seeder and Burdock. Female and Male.

No one could remember the games that they won. One in the first decade, the other in the second. That’s all that was recollectable about them, because victors didn’t matter in this District.

Whether you won or not, you were still below the Peacekeepers that controlled the place. You still had to work, slave away under the oppressive sun, because the people in the Capitol needed their bread and their meat and their milk.

Victory wasn’t real.

Anyone would be stupid to think otherwise.

“Welcome, everyone! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour!” She chimed, smiling as bright as the jewellery that adorned her neck and wrists.

Silence rang throughout the centre square.

Not a cheer, nor an excited exclamation was heard.

Just damning silence.

Vespera cleared her throat awkwardly, “Now, the time has come for us to select one strong, feisty young man and woman to honour and represent our wonderful District 11 in the 31st annual Hunger Games.”

Her heels clicked against the concrete stage, echoing around and ringing in your ears.

“Ladies first, of course!” She guffawed like she’d said the most amusing thing in the world.

Her hand reached down into the fishbowl, fingers dancing along the cards holding everyone’s names.

Sickness ran through you at the thought of her dragging this out purely for audience retention.

You knew the Capitol liked seeing Districts 10, 11 and 12 suffer. They always had, and they probably always will. It was likely that it would get worse with time.

You just wished someone would be brave enough to actually do something about it.

Vespera finally grasped a piece of white, folded card, pulling it out of the fishbowl and holding it close to her chest as she returned to the microphone.

You could’ve heard a pin drop. That’s how quiet it was.

Everyone was standing still, waiting with bated breath to see which of their fellow citizens had the dishonour of facing their end this year.

The call of your name in itself felt like a death sentence, but the parting of bodies and turning of heads in your direction was like crossing your T’s and dotting your I’s on the certificate itself.

Breaking down was the only thing on your mind.

You didn’t have it within you to walk to the front and stand in front of your peers, in front of your family, and cement the fact that this was likely the last time they’d ever see you alive in person.

“Come on now, don’t be so shy! You’re a big girl after all!” Vespera cooed, beckoning you closer.

The shuffling of feet towards you and the clicking of guns was what caused you to start forwards.

Your eyes were glued to the front, not daring to turn and find Phelim amongst the boys.

“Ah, wonderful, darling!” She grinned, taking your hand to help you up the stairs and subtly speed up the process of getting you on stage.

“Isn’t this exciting, boys and girls?”

A lone tear found its way down your cheek as you stood beside her on stage.

This couldn’t be happening.

Surely this was all just an awful dream.

“And now for the male tribute!”

Your attention wasn’t on the rest of the ceremony in the slightest.

It felt like an out of body experience, the way your chest tightened and your eyes flitted around the courtyard, everything becoming such a blur you almost made yourself vomit.

“Tarragon Farley!”

He was the same age as you. You knew that because you were in the same class at school. Before you left and had to start working.

When he joined you on stage, you turned to look at him, the both of you sharing the same doomed expression.

You knew what your fates were.

It didn’t matter if either of you pulled in sponsors.

You were doomed.

A mere nod was passed between the two of you before Vespera announced the ending of the ceremony.

The sound of shuffling feet on gravel sounded throughout as everyone began to filter out of the central square and Peacekeepers took a hold of your bicep to pull you into the District Hall.

“No! Reader!” Blodwyn screeched from the very back, “No, you can’t take her!”

The Peacekeepers wasted no time on pulling out their weaponry and barking violent orders.

“Hey!” Phelim exclaimed, stepping in front of them, “She’s eight! Back off!”

There was a pause before he was struck with the butt of the gun.

“Phel!” You shouted, pushing out of the Peacekeepers arms and attempting to make it towards your brother.

You made it surprisingly far before another stepped in front of you, barrel pointed right at your chest. You felt the cold metal on your skin even through your shirt.

“Get inside!”

“My family—“

“If you want to keep them from getting hurt, you’ll get inside!”

With a small whimper, you obeyed the orders, finding yourself being pulled by them anyway, shoved through hallways and into a dingy room before the door slammed shut behind you.

The panic flared in your chest, burning hotter and hotter until your palm was rubbing over it while you tried to control your breathing.

“Reader!” Blodwyn barged into the room, immediately finding your midsection with her arms and sobbing into your stomach.

“Oh, Wynnie.” You whispered, crouching to her height and holding her tightly.

“You have to win! You have to come back!”

Your jaw hung loose, trying to find the words to respond.

Realistically, you had no chance. You were severely disadvantaged in multiple categories, but Blodwyn didn’t see it like that. She thought it was all a level playing field.

“You can do it.” Phelim interrupted.

When you looked up at him, you found that his cheekbone was looking bruised already, and he continuously shifted his jaw like it was aching.

“Phel …” You stood, approaching him and tilting his head to get a better look at it.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” He shook you off, “You can win, Reader. You can. I’ll hold it down at home, I promise. I might not be as good as you, but at least it’ll be temporary. When you come back it’ll all go back to normal.”

You pursed your lips.

It was wishful thinking at best, but you hugged him tightly anyway.

Moving back to the floor, you were in front of Oisin as his bottom lip trembled violently.

“You come back?” He sniffled, “So we can play in the fields again?”

“I will try. Just for you.”

“Okay.” He croaked, seemingly content with that answer. “And Kelda needs new diapers.”

You chuckled softly, “I know.”

“How do we get that?”

“You leave that to me.” Your dad said, drawing your attention to him.

“Daddy.” You whimpered, moving towards him.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“I’m so scared.” You admitted shakily, “I wanna— I …” You looked to your siblings and back before lowering your voice, “Daddy, I’m gonna die in there.”

He shook his head firmly, “Don’t be saying stuff like that. You could win.” He took your hands into his, holding them firmly, “You know how to thrive on next to nothing. You’re good at hiding, you do it all the time with Oisin in the fields. Use what you know.”

You brought a hand up to cover your face, sheltering the rest of your family from your face being the epitome of distress and fear. Tears fell down your cheeks at a rapid pace, your chest wracking with sobs.

“Come here, now.” He sighed softly, taking Kelda from his lap and handing her to Phelim.

You must admit, it did feel strange to be sat in your fathers lap again despite being grown enough to work 12 hours in the fields, and you were shocked that the pressure of your weight didn’t have him groaning in discomfort, but you supposed that’s what came with a lack of any feeling waistdown.

You definitely didn’t weigh the same as you did ten years ago, but being perched in his lap all over again certainly made you feel it.

“Look at me, Reader.”

Reluctantly, you did so.

His eyes were soft, glossed over with unshed tears so that he didn’t fill the room with anymore grief or worry.

“You look just like your mother. You know that? And she was … a beautiful soul.”

You nodded, swallowing audibly.

“Use that.” He prodded at your chest, directly over your heart, “Use your soul to get favouritism. Sway them. Be your soft, gentle self. Remind them of humanity.”

“I can’t fight.” You sniffled.

“Hide. It’s been done before. You can hide and you can win. I believe in you.”

His hands framed your face, rough from experience, wrinkled with age.

“We all believe in you.”

It was Kelda’s fussing that snapped you out of the moment.

Clambering off of his lap, you retrieved the baby from your brother and held her for possibly the last time.

She clung to you naturally, her whining soothing instantly as you shushed her and pressed kisses to her hairline.

“Sissy.” She cooed.

“Yeah.” You whispered, nodding and flattening your nose to her temple as more tears fell and you looked to Phelim, “Please don’t let her forget me.”

His hand found your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze, “She won’t need to.”

The door smashed inwards, and you weren’t filled with warmth like you were when it was Blodwyn. Instead, the blood was drained from your face and terror struck.

Kelda burst into sobs along with Oisin, whereas Blodwyn started screaming for you.

“It’s okay, Wynnie! She’s coming back!” Phelim tried.

“Don’t go, Reader! Please!”

The Peacekeepers weren’t exactly gentle with your father and his wheelchair, shoving him along in juddering motions despite him having a two year old in his arms.

“Careful with hi—“

The door was slammed in your face.

The only thing you could hear other than your own ragged breathing was your siblings' wails and panicked shouts.

Other than that? Nothing.

You were alone, and this was just the beginning.

[clarkeyskissco]

already phenomenal #crine

[clarkeyskissco]

NSFW alphabet - a.frederick ⋆°❀.ೃ࿔⋆

an: omds the photo quality is poo but that is a representation of how writing this felt, why is he so hard to capture:( but anyway pls enjoy the mr television content!

content warnings: established relationship, spanking, oral (f and m receiving), somnophilia, exhibitionism, lots and lots of dirty talk, cum eating, soft dom arthur, use of daddy, recording sex, roleplay, Chris cameo (😛)

⋆°❀.ೃ࿔⋆

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This attentive attentive man. He is all over you, swarming you and waiting on you hand and foot, he’ll run you a bath or wipe you clean with a cloth if you’re not feeling it. He’ll kiss your cheeks, brushing your hair out of your face and caressing you, muttering little words of praise to you.

“Such a good girl, you did so amazing for me my lovely, I’m so so proud of you.” You’ll be nodding along sleepily, quickly drifting off, but he’ll keep talking, eventually trailing off into discussing all the random facts he’s learned that day that he hadn’t had the chance to share with you whilst you were awake

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his absolute favourite on himself is his abs/chest, his sleeper build is crazy and he knows it - he worked so hard to get to where he is physically and the eyebrow raise the first time he took off his top in front of you made his ego go through the roof, and the first time you ground your pussy into his abs, clit rubbing against the grooves of his chest as you chased your high encouraged by his praise, he knew from that moment he would strive to keep abs on his chest until you were both wrinkled and old

On you? Arthur swears hand on heart he loves every inch of your body equally - but the smirk on his face and tightness in his trousers when you wear that one little skirt that swishes and reveals the perfect amount of butt cheek, you know he’s an ass man

He loves seeing it bounce when he’s fucking you in doggy, the fat of your ass jiggling with every thrust

He loves spanking you over his knee, when he’s riled up, making you count out the spanks, as he watches enthralled by your flesh rippling under his swats

“How many is that, darling?” Voice laced with honey, as if the smacks on your ass haven’t raised into angry welts and made sweat bead in the small of your back

“U-Um, I think? I think it’s eleven.” You pant out, toes curling and eyes unfocused from the spot on the carpet you’re face down on. Your ass cheeks are on fire, and you hope your answer is right

Arthur tuts.

“Oh, angel. That was number nine. My clever girl is all over the place today, that means we’ve got to go back to zero until you learn to count properly.”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Insanely huge creampie fan - if he’s going to cum anywhere, he wants it to be deep up inside your guts, coating your insides and marking you as his - the intimacy of knowing he’s the only one getting to paint your cunt makes his secret possessiveness claw at the inside of his brain

When he pulls out and sees his cum dribble out of your folds, a mixture of both his and your pleasure seeping down your thighs makes his brain throb - he has absolutely no reservations about cleaning you up, either. He’ll be between your legs, cleaning up the combination of you both with his tongue, shushing you when you whine at the overstimulation, scooping up his cum from your folds onto two of his fingers and shoving them into your mouth, plying you with the taste of him so he can continue licking your cunt uninterrupted

“That’s my girl, you like tasting me, huh? Let me clean you up darling, be good for me.”

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

and what if he said he wants to watch Chris fuck you?

he wants to watch you fall apart on someone else’s dick, cumming from the actions of another man, staring into your eyes and noting in the back of his mind that he does it better

He’s always been in friendly competition with Chris, and he sees the way you’ve looked at him before - Arthur isn’t exactly jealous, he knows you’d never do anything and it’s not like Chris is unattractive, but he wants to watch him fuck you all wrong and then swoop in to put you back together and make you cum harder than you ever have before

E = Experience (how experienced are they?)

He’s had a fair amount of experience with women despite coming across as awkward, you wouldn’t have expected sex with Arthur to be as phenomenal as it is, but he knows what he’s doing - he can make you cum in the five minutes it takes from booking your Uber to it arriving, pressed against the front door as his fingers deftly work you up to your high in rapid time

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It doesn’t matter how it happens, but Arthur’s favourite position will always be taking you from behind

Wether it’s bent over your kitchen counter, rutting into you in doggy as his heavy balls slap rhythmically against your clit and he pants into your ear, large hands groping the flesh of your tits

Or spooning you in bed late at night, cock nudging your walls open in slow, steady thrusts, his head in the crook of your neck as he croons little praises to you, fingers working in circles over your clit

Or even, when the occasion strikes, reverse cowgirl whilst Arthur reclines on the balcony of whatever hotel you happen to be staying at, admiring the landscape behind you and your back flexing, ass and hair bouncing as you fuck yourself up and down on his dick - being out in the open with you sets arthur on fire and knowing anyone could walk past and see your bouncing tits and desperate, wound up face makes him go wild, he enjoys relinquishing the control to you and allowing you to fuck yourself on him at your own pace, acting as a human dildo for your satisfaction. He’ll rest his heavy palms on the soft skin of your hips and murmur praise to you as the knot in his stomach tightens

“You like using me, don’t you baby? Such a good girl, taking me so deep and so well - keep going baby I know you’re not done with me yet.”

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

If you’re having drunk sex, oh my god he won’t stop. This man will be giggling in your ear the entire time, laughing into a kiss and smothering himself in your hair, drunk clingy Arthur is obsessed with you. He’s definitely more serious during normal sex, but he will laugh or crack a small joke here and there, as he cannot resist saying little quips when he thinks of them, even if its slightly inappropriate timing when he’s three fingers deep in your pussy and tonguing your asshole x

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

VERY well groomed - he’s trimmed down almost fully, but not smooth shaven. He would genuinely never care about how you choose to look, but I am a firm believer that he prefers a bush - that man loves giving sloppy head and seeing the curls above your folds form as they dampen with your slick and his spit

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Mr romcom over here, he LIVESSSS for intimate sex, he is all over you, kissing up and down your body, brushing his hands over you, even when he’s being more dominant with you, it’s always sensual - he’ll maintain eye contact with you wether it’s direct or through a mirror and absolutely drown you with praises, any kind of sex with Arthur is intensely intimate, with him being entirely focused on you and how your body is reacting to him, he’s so intensely in tune with you that he blocks out the rest of the world just to focus on drawing more pants and mewls from you

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s not very big on wanking, he just doesn’t feel the need, if he wakes up with morning wood he has you right there or if he’s needy during the day he can just find whatever it is you’re doing around the house and turn it into fucking you up against the washing machine or playing with your clit as you try and read

He does however masturbate when he’s been away from you for a while, if he’s travelling or you are, he gets very needy and wound up, which can manifest in him being snappy without meaning to. You’ve come to understand that these breaks in his character can be soothed by sending him a cheeky selfie - if you’re away you’ll send him a video of you dropping your fluffy hotel robe in the bathroom mirror, turning around and smacking your ass with a giggle for him, or if you’re the one at home you’ll make use of the dildo typically used for punishments and record yourself bouncing up and down on it, back arching as you moan his name down the phone, lewd squelching coming from your pussy gushing around the toy standing in for him

He’ll save these videos for whenever he’s needy and will fist his hard cock over and over until it’s raw, imagining it’s your pretty mouth or perfect hole working him over and over again

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Mr Tv loves roleplay. Period. Every time he has an excuse to wear a suit, he KNOWS he’s fucking you whilst wearing it. His absolute favourite is tutor/student. He’ll be sat opposite you at his chess board, dressed to the nines in his suit as you sit opposite him in just a mini skirt and bra, squirming on the dildo stuffing your cunt.

“Your move.”

He’ll say nonchalantly, moving his chess piece in a way that just confuses your muddled brain even more. You move forward to move your pieces and shudder as the dildo inside of you grazes your sweet spot, it’s tantalisingly close to your gspot, brushing it feather lightly, making you gush all over the chair. You can’t focus on the game, or anything except your rising desire. Your body is on fire under Arthur’s serious gaze.

“I told you it’s your turn. Now move your piece, stop wasting my time.”

You whine at his harsh words, desperate for him to just stop playing fucking chess and touch you.

“Please, Arthur, I-“

His dress shoe suddenly taps the front of your cunt harshly, landing on your clit and making you cry out.

“It’s Mr Frederick. Stop disrespecting me or I’ll take you over my knee.”

He scoffs as you shudder at his words, desperation palpable in your face and he rolls his eyes.

“I forgot I was dealing with a stupid little girl. Raise your skirt for me, let me see the mess you’ve made.”

Your shaky hands pull up the front of your barely there skirt, revealing your puffy heat to him, it’s glistening with slick and desperate energy. He tuts.

“If you can beat me, I might decide to touch you. If you can’t, you’re not cumming tonight, princess.”

With a frustrated sob, your body hot and agitated, you swipe all the pieces off of the board and kick your chair back from the table. Petty anger and frustration had clouded your judgement. The look on Arthur’s face makes a different pit form in your stomach. He stands up slowly, terrifyingly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just got upset.” You babble desperately as he walks towards you. He cages you in with a hand resting on both arms of your chair, he leans down to your face, noses almost brushing. The look in his eyes isn’t anything you’ve ever seen in arthur before.

“You are fucking dead, sweetheart. You can cum, but you’re not stopping until you’ve learned your lesson, you dumb little bitch.”

The rage in his voice paired with his stony unfeeling expression made the pits of regret and lust swirl together in your stomach. And as he stared down at you, eyes burning holes into yours, all you could do was nod and reply

“Yes, Mr Frederick.”

Don’t mess with mr Television’s chess set x

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a big fan of fucking in his office, having you reverse cowgirl at his desk chair, making eye contact with you through the monitor that’s recording your movements, he gets the best of both worlds being able to look down and see your ass clapping against his thighs or look forward and see your bouncing tits and eyes rolled into your skull - he gets off on how filthy it is to fuck where he records all of his videos, and when he’s sat there the next day it sends a shiver down his spine knowing your cum is dried to the leather and the little box in the corner of his home screen with the thumbnail of your tits is watching his every movement

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

This man has a lingerie kink 10000% I can just feel it in my guts

When he catches a glimpse of the little white bow in the centre of your bra after sneaking a look down your top in the line for a coffee, or when the blue lace string he recognises as his favourite thong rides up above your waistband - he is bricked to the moon

Surprising him for his birthday, splayed out on your shared bed in a silky lace babydoll, with a thong that covers less than a deep breath would, he is going to fuck you until the sun rises

Something about stroking over your body and feeling the smoothness and warmth of your skin contrast to the silky sheen of satin and lace makes his tummy go tight

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t like hitting you anywhere except your ass, he’d give you a little tap on the cheek if you’re being bratty but he would absolutely never actually slap you/properly hit you

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

MunchTV. That is all. He is a giver through and through. Having you beneath him, legs slung over his shoulders whilst he sucks and spits all over your cunt is one of his favourite things. Fucking his tongue into your pussy whilst nudging your clit with his nose, smirking into you as you moan and cry out, your hands gripping his hair like a vice. He’ll spit all over you, mixing his saliva with your slick as he smears his face into your pussy, scissoring two of his fingers inside of you and massaging your gspot as you fall over the edge of orgasm. He’s so messy with it, loving the feeling of your slick running down his chin. He’ll continue with long languid smears of his tongue, smirking and laughing smugly when you twitch and jerk away from him, his strong hands pinning your thighs in place so you’re stuck beneath him, as he places featherlight kisses to your clit and bumping his tongue into your hole under the guise of cleaning you up

But he will never ever say no to a blowjob, and if he does he trusts you to phone an ambulance x

He loves seeing you blow him, knees digging into the carpet as you suck him into your mouth, gagging on his length and pulling off, spit connecting your mouth to his length as you gasp

“You’re so big, Arthur,” you’ll pant out, voice a little hoarse as you take him back into your mouth and gargle your own spit trying to take him down to the base, rolling his tight balls in your free hand as you grip the base of him - he’s obsessed with the tears that bead on your waterline as he stretches your throat

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and teasing, unless you’re on a time limit - Arthur wants to take his time with you, make you fall apart over and over again all over him, not stopping until you’re a shuddering mess clawing for him to stop

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Whilst they’re not his favourite because of how methodically he likes to fuck you, spread out over hours of raw pleasure - he sometimes cannot avoid a quickie

When you come and surprise him at the end of a podcast shoot and you’re stood there smiling at him in a pretty summer dress, only to look down and see the text:

“not wearing panties btw xxx love you!”

He needs you then and there, he’s hoping that the fellas have all cleared off for the day because as he fucks you into the white sofa he sits on weekly, he’s really not doing anything to cover up the sound of your moans

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s more tempted than he cares to admit to fuck you in public - especially when you go on little trips to the countryside together and spend a whole weekend hiking and exploring together. He wants to feel the thrill of fucking you outdoors for anyone to see, without the explicit risk that fucking you in public in london would pose

You blowing him against a tree looking out over the Lake District is one of the memories than never fails to stir a semi hard cock from him no matter where he is when the thought crosses his mind

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He lasts stupidly long - drawing out fucking you for an almost exhausting amount of time, having made you cum with his mouth and his fingers before drilling his cock into you from behind, one hand circling your clit as the other grips your hair - it won’t be multiple rounds in one go with Arthur, but he’s so attentive and has so much stamina for one round that when he pulls out and starts massaging his cum across your pussy, you’re as sensitive as if he’d fucked you six times over

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns a few tried and tested toys - but he much prefers the intimacy of it just being you two, he enjoys knowing it was entirely his body that made you fall apart, rather than any kind of inanimate object

However, you do own a dildo that he enjoys using on you for punishments - making you ride it in front of him as he jerks himself off, moaning and grunting as he fists his hard cock, watching you pout and cry, throwing a tantrum and whining that the silicone dick you’re riding isn’t as good as him

“That’s what you get for being naughty, sweetheart, when I think you’ve learned your lesson you can come and sit on daddy’s cock, okay?”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh brother. This man is a fucking TEASE! And every single time it blindsides you.

You’ll be cooking dinner together, both moving around the kitchen in sync, and as you place your pasta bowls down on the counter, his big hands will grab your hips, forcing you against it as his fat cock rubs against your ass,

“I want to fuck you so bad, Angel, you’re so good to me, making me dinner like a little housewife.” He’ll murmur into your ear, making deliberate grinds of his hips as his hands trail up and palm your breasts, and as your breath catches in your throat too flustered to respond, he’ll pinch your nipple and kiss the column of your neck before moving to the fridge and asking if you want cheese

Or when you’re walking hand in hand to the pub to meet your friends, Arthur’s favourite skirt swishing on your hips with every step, you’ll be talking nonstop to eachother as you near the door. Arthur, ever the gentleman, will open it for you, halting you halfway across the threshold to whisper into your ear

“Go and take your panties off for me, I know you wore that skirt for a reason and now you’re going to pay for it.”

And then he kisses your cheek casually, as if he’d leaned down to tell you a secret, and turn to greet his friends as you fluster behind him, hot in the face and fumbling to ask where the toilets are

And lord have mercy on you, because arthur knows exactly what his dirty talk does to you, he can wind you up in a few lewd words that leave you squirming in your chair for more, when you both know it’s hours before he’ll even give you the satisfaction of his touch. And even then, when you’re home and in bed and whining about your wet cunt, he’ll trace your clit with a touch so soft you can barely feel it, chuckling softly at your frustrated tears

“It doesn’t take much for you to fall apart for me, does it?”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This man is always talking, you cannot shut him up at any point of the day. He is just constantly yapping your ear off, and when you’re fucking it’s no different. He goes mental for dirty talk, leaning down to pant and whine into your ear as you arch and claw against him

“Yeah? Does that feel good? You’re gonna make me cum, baby, let me hear you, show me how good I’m making you feel.”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He’s a massive fan of free use/somnophilia - he’s very busy and doesn’t always have time to cherish you in the way he wants, so when he gets home from a shoot that’s ran over or comes home from a trip at 3am, he’ll have one thing in mind

Coming home from a trip, jet lagged and craving you, arthur will see you curled up on the sofa, sleeping soundly whilst some corny reality tv show plays in just one of his big hoodies and pyjama shorts that barely class as an item of clothing, and the front of his shorts will tighten. Rolling you onto your stomach, shushing you as you murmur and grumble, Arthur will stroke and grab the flesh of your ass with a low groan. Pushing your shorts to the side, he’ll stroke your clit in slow circles, relishing in your sleepy whines and the wetness pooling on his fingers - even as you sleep you’re desperate for him. After a few pumps to his heavy cock, he’ll line himself up and enter you in one deep thrust - you’re tighter after not seeing him for a few weeks and he lets out a guttural moan.

“Fucking hell, darling, you’ve been so good waiting for me.” He murmurs into your hair, as he leans his forehead to rest on your shoulder. As his thrusts get deeper, you twitch and squirm beneath him.

“Hmngh-uh. A-arthur?” You mumble sleepily, confusion and lust clouding your waking body.

“Shh, darling, it’s just me, I’ve missed you so much I couldn’t help myself.” He whispers into your ear, kissing the spot on your neck that makes you shudder. You nod into the sofa, breathless moans and pants leaving your mouth as you float between dreaming and being awake. Arthur’s cock pumps deeper into you, hitting that spongy spot that sends stars behind your eyes.

“You feel so good around me, sweetheart. You missed me, yeah?”

You desperately nos your head into the sofa

“Yes, yes I missed you, daddy, I waited up for you.”

Arthur grins behind you, grinding his cock deeper and stirring a moan from you. He loves when you get like this, brain dreamy and foggy and desperate for him to take care of you. He curls a hand round to your front and circles your clit, bringing you dangerously close to the edge. As you moan and your legs twitch beneath him, his thrusts become sloppy

“I’m gonna cum, baby, you gonna take it like a good girl, yeah?”

“Yes yes please, daddy, please cum inside of me.” Your desperate whines for him to fill you up is all Arthur needed to bottom out and paint your insides with ropes of his cum. He rests his head on your shoulder as he lets out a shaky sigh. You turn your head and look at him, your half lidded eyes and dopey smile making his softening cock twitch to life again.

“There’s my sweet girl. You okay?”

You nod and pout your lips out for a kiss. He leans down and sloppily kisses you, his cock hardening, still inside of you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s got a good solid cock, about 8 inches, I’d say he’s a shower not a grower, so the first time he pulled down his shorts your eyes nearly fell out of your head, he knows exactly how to use it, too, so his girth will be bumping your gspot and your cervix as soon as he bottoms out inside of you, making your eyes roll back in your head within the first seconds of him pushing into you

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s not got an insanely high sex drive, he absolutely loves fucking you but he’s not always in the mood. I’d say his yearning is highest when he first wakes up, morning wood pressing against his stomach, and he’ll sleepily grind his cock into your clothed ass, mumbling into your hair as he fists his cock and rubs it through your folds, bottoming out inside of you before he’s even fully awake - he loves cockwarming in the morning, falling back asleep with his dick nestled deep inside of you, waiting for when either one you stirs awake. If it’s you, rousing from sleep feeling full and fuzzy, you’ll lazily roll your hips back on his dick, eyes rolling back and sighing with pleasure as his dick nudges you out of unconsciousness. If he wakes up first, he’ll rut up into you, hands groping your tits as he breathes in deep inhales of the scent of your hair, muttering little nothings to you as you keep dreaming

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Arthur will never fall asleep before you, he’s very conscious of you after you have sex and will hover over you like a mother hen, ensuring that you’re fully knocked out before he settles down behind you, wrapping you up in his heavy arms and falling asleep

⋆°❀.ೃ࿔⋆

[clarkeyskissco]

medieval knight arthur hill and princess reader………….oh you are SO pending

[georgesclarkey]

FUZZY PINK HANDCUFFS, c. dixon

you “arrest” your boyfriend chris at your concert for being too hot. he keeps the handcuffs, so you decide to use them when you get home.

content/warnings: smut (18+), popstar!reader, slightly sub!chris, established relationship, light bondage (fuzzy handcuffs), dry humping, chris cumming in his boxers, whimpering

notes: this was originally a george fic, but i changed it to chris because i felt like the vibes fit him better. but lmk if you want some sub!george in the future… based on sabrina’s juno arrests on the short n sweet tour!

YOU TOOK A QUICK SIP OF WATER, LOOKING OUT AT THE WEMBLEY CROWD. It had been a great show so far, but before you played the song "Juno" you typically took a short break to talk to the crowd.

It was a cute tradition you had started on this tour, where you "arrested" someone for being too hot with fuzzy pink handcuffs, referencing a lyric from the song. Sometimes you would arrest a fan, a celebrity, or a friend who was in attendance. But no matter who you arrested, it was just a fun way to do some crowd work during the concert.

"How are we feeling so far, London?!" you turn the microphone to the crowd as they erupt with cheers.

It never fails to fill you with glee when you get to play to any crowd, especially when the crowd is as loud as London had been so far this evening. This was the last show of the tour and the crowd was clearly shaping up to be the best of the entire tour. But you may be a bit partial.

Not only were a lot of your close friends in the VIP box tonight, but your boyfriend was there, too. Chris had come to a few shows in other cities, but you had yet to arrest him during your "Juno" segment because you were waiting for the perfect time.

"London, I can't lie. There's a lot of attractive people in the audience tonight..." you said, twirling your hair around your finger playfully. "You lot are making me nervous!"

You laughed as the crowd went crazy again. When they simmered down a bit, you spoke again. "But I've gotta be honest with you, London. Someone here tonight has caught my attention..."

You made your way to where you knew Chris would be. He was standing right at the edge of the stage, trying to act nonchalant, but failing miserably when you stopped and pointed at him.

"Oh my God!" you said as the red and blue lights began to flash and police siren sounds began to play. "You, Sir. I've had my eyes on you all night! What's your name?"

When his face appeared on the screens throughout the arena, the crowd went insane. Chris flushed red as a spotlight turned on and pointed at him, ensuring everyone in the crowd had their eyes on him. When the crowd quieted a bit, Chris cupped his mouth with his hands, yelling "Chris!"

"Wow." You bring your hand up to your face, fanning yourself with it. "Chris. That has a nice ring to it." You tapped your chin, turning to the rest of the crowd. "London, doesn't that have a nice ring to it?" Chris tries to act humble, laughing as the crowd goes crazy once again.

"Listen, Chris. I have something to give you. Did you know that it's cuffing season?" you ask, kneeling near the edge of the stage where Chris was standing. You dangled a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs from your finger, and Chris instantly stuck his wrists out, like he was ready for you to actually put them on him, making you laugh.

"Oh, wow. You seem very eager!" you said, chuckling. Somehow, in the crowded stadium, this moment felt like it was just you and Chris. "Well, these are for you, Chris," you said, handing the handcuffs down to Chris. He took them, his warm touch brushing against your hand.

"Hopefully you can give me that ChrisMD later," You said with a wink. The crowd roared at your crude pun as you stood up. You watched as Chris's face flushed pink, not expecting you to say something like that.

"Alright, I'll end his suffering," you said as the backing track for the next song started playing. "This next song is called 'Juno!' It's dedicated to Chris!"

Back at home, Chris was basically waiting for you by the door. When you were finally home, he jumped up to greet you.

"God, you were great tonight," Chris said the second you stepped into the house. It obviously took you a bit longer to leave the venue than it did him, so Chris went home with friends. Since then, he had been pacing the living room floor, thinking about you and those damn handcuffs.

Chris wrapped his arms around you, backing you against the door as he peppered kisses across your neck and collarbone.

"Thank you, Chris," you said with a giggle. You put both your hands on Chris's shoulders, pushing him back a bit. He looked down at you with lust in his eyes. "At least let me walk in the door though, love."

"Fine," Chris grumbled, taking a step back. You walked through the house and toward your shared bedroom, your bag slung over your shoulder. He followed behind you like a lost puppy.

"The crowd loved you, Chris. They were so loud!" you said as you unpacked your bag. When you turned around, you had a sneaky look on your face. "What did you do with those handcuffs?"

Chris smirked, reaching into his back pocket and pulling them out. He let them dangle from his finger, just like you had a few hours ago on stage, when you were giving them to him.

"I'm glad you kept those," you said, taking slow steps toward Chris. He gulped when you reached him and touched the handcuffs. "What were you planning on doing with them?"

Chris shook his head, stuttering. "I, uh, don't—"

"Good," you said, taking the handcuffs from him assertively. "I've got an idea."

The look in Chris's eyes was a mix of desire and morbid curiosity. You were a pillow princess to your core, so neither of you were used to you exploring your more dominant side. However, tonight those handcuffs had you feeling some type of way.

Chris's mouth went dry as you backed him toward the bed. He felt your gaze rake across his body, eyes settling on the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Babe…" you said, your hand toying with the waistband of his sweats. As your fingers dipped just underneath his sweatpants, Chris’s breath hitched. "You need to lose these trousers."

Chris didn’t even hesitate. He untied the drawstring and removed them quickly. You were pleased when you saw the already hard ridge of him through his boxers, showing you he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

Chris sat on the bed, back against the headboard. You followed, straddling his lap. Chris hummed as you ground down against him.

You leaned down and kissed Chris messily. Your mouthes worked together into a hot and sloppy kiss. Your tongue dipped inside his mouth and your hands danced through his curly hair.

You grabbed the hem of Chris’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head. Beneath you, Chris was left in just his boxers, while you were above him still fully dressed. When Chris notices this, he reaches up to the hem of your top.

"No, no," you said, leaning back from his grasp. You reached beside him and grabbed the handcuffs once again. "Put your hands together."

He knit his brows together. "Are you actually going to—"

"Chris," you said, more stern now. He gulped, but then he did it. You smirked as you felt Chris’s erection beneath your core, knowing that he was getting off on this too.

You moved his arms above his head and clasped the handcuffs around his wrists, leaving his wrists restrained to the headboard. He was below you, completely at your mercy. His eyes were full of lust, ready for you to do whatever you want to him.

Suddenly he's attacking you in a kiss again. His wet kisses trailed from your mouth and down your jawline and toward your neck. But you weren't having it. Chris gasped as you slipped your hands into his hair and tugged his head back.

His eyes met yours and his pupils were blown out, full of need. Desire, for you and only you. He tried to lean forward to kiss your neck, but your grip strengthened in his hair, forcing a whimper from his lips.

"You get what I give you," you said, letting go of your hold on Chris’s hair. He gulped, looking at you in a whole new light. Your dominant side was coming out in full force now, and the tightness in Chris’s boxers showed just how much he liked what you were doing.

You dragged your hands down Chris’s chest, your fingers roaming the hard ridges of his abs. You paused just before your fingers dipped into his boxers.

He just looked at you, practically squirming with need. "Reader… please."

You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck. You were extremely aware of Chris’s hardness below you, giving you an idea.

You swayed your hips, grinding down on Chris’s erection. Even through your clothes, his hardness hit all your sweet spots. He let out a groan, throwing his head back against the headboard.

"Come on, baby," you breathed out, leaning in mere centimeters from Chris’s mouth. "Can you come for me? I don’t need to touch you, do I?"

"Baby, I—"

You cut him off as you start to grind your hips harder now. He instantly starts falling apart, turning into a moaning, groaning mess below you.

You connect your lips to his, swiping your tongue across his lip as you continue with the rhythm you set with your hips, determined to make him come through his pants.

As you continue to grind down, the hard ridge of him hits your clit again and again. Even through your clothes, it was amazing.

The intensity of the moment builds and builds until Chris’s head falls back, his whole body going rigid. His mouth falls open, and you watch as his orgasm falls over him.

A warm sense of pride grows in your chest as you feel his release. He loves you so much that he came without you laying a finger on him. That made you feel things, to say the least.

"Oh my God," Chris laughed drily, looking up at his still-bound hands. "We are definitely doing this again."

You laugh, leaning down to press a short, sweet kiss to his lips. "Oh we definitely will."

comment/message to join my taglist! @strwmiu @fayenotwebster @narcejars @arthursartour @willows-kiss @livvytv @jador3me @zo-zo4 @whereisarthurtv @theoreticallythe @sillylittlestars36 @smzyyx @cyberleviathanuniverse

[clarkeyskissco]

WOW sub Chris you’re soooooo famous

[clarkeyskissco]

trying to write Arthur’s instalment of the nsfw alphabets and writing dominant dialogue for him literally feels like this

[buttlesbunnie]

BUTTLE FAMILY OUTING ── a.buttle ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary: you and arabella join alfie and the boys for their trip to portugal

content: established relationship , dad!ab , sexual jokes & references , swearing , crying toddler , tantrums , kissing & allusions to sex

notes: this is so long … like actually freaking me out i think this might be the longest fic ive ever written and it took me an entire week jesus

wc: 11,539

MUGGY. THAT WAS one word you’d use to describe the temperature in Portugal. It was slightly warm, but the air felt thick around you.

The group had started the trip on a negative note already, as Chip had accidentally claimed someone else’s bag and then spent an hour trying to find a decent car rental service.

There was a very amusing statue of Cristiano Ronaldo’s head outside the airport that the boys spent a brief while taking the mick out of before walking across the road to the main car park where the rental car was to be collected from.

Arabella was perched on Alfie’s forearm as he carried her around to stop her from whining about her feet aching.

Chip spoke in the lift, “The journey begins boys, who’s ready to get fucking—“

“I actually am pretty hyped about this one chat.” Alfie put on a funky voice.

“Yuck.” You muttered, causing Greg to laugh.

“For anyone wondering why AB’s mrs is here, it’s because she’s a controlling leech who won’t leave her boyfriend alone. Psycho.” Chip joked, “No, I’m messing. It’s because she wanted to come and they couldn’t leave Arab at home.”

“Buttle family outing.” Greg hummed.

“I’m not even part of the Buttle family.” You scoffed, holding your ring-less finger up to the camera, “Never have kids out of wedlock guys. They take the piss.”

Alfie gave you a dirty look, eyebrows furrowed and head reared back, “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” You shrugged before wheeling your suitcase out of the lift behind you once it had come to a stop.

“Top ten coldest Reader moments.” Chip narrated, “Anyway, I’m excited for the vibes. AB’s gonna get his beautiful body out.”

“You’ve been saying this all day on the plane.” Alfie said, sliding his sunglasses on.

“God forbid a white boy try and hype up his boys.”

“You’re not even white.” You chimed in.

“I’ve never had a mate that’s been more attracted to me than you.” Your boyfriend adjusted the backpack slung over his shoulders before jogging lightly to catch up to you.

“Mummy.” Arabella whined, trying to reach out to you.

“What?”

“Hold.”

“No.”

You wouldn’t have been opposed had she not been in your arms five minutes prior and begging to go back to her dad’s.

“Please!”

“Bella, can I hold you?” Greg tried.

The two year old seemed to think about it for a split second before nodding, letting her dad pass her over to his mate.

Alfie began explaining some previous events while taking Arabella’s suitcase from you, “We were getting off the plane and this— the flight attendant goes ‘Can I ask you a question, are you single?’ to Greg, and then he was like ‘I am’ and she went ‘You’re hot’.”

Greg pulled out proof in the form of a brown napkin with a number written down and the words ‘I think you’re really cute, never done this before lol’.

“How cute.” You smiled, raising your shoulders before dropping them.

“Oh, yeah, Reader’s fuming ‘coz the other one tried it on with AB even though he was carrying Bella’s bag and she was carrying her.” Greg laughed.

“That was ballsy.” Alfie nodded before holding his hands up, “Wasn’t a fan. Don’t appreciate the attention. I’m a taken man.”

“I’m not fuming.” You said, “I’m slightly annoyed.”

“I’m fuming for you.” Chip said, “I want his sexy body all to myself.”

“… What?”

“What sessy?” Arabella asked, face screwed up to block the sun from getting into her eyes.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” Alfie grunted as he slung his backpack forwards to retrieve her little white sunglasses with flowers on the side from the front pocket. “What do we say?”

“Thank you, Daddy.” She grinned as he put them on her face.

“Very stylish.” Greg hummed in approval.

“Sylis.” She tried to replicate the word.

“Yep.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊

“I reckon I can touch this.” Alfie announced once you were under some shade.

The roof was quite high up, and as tall as he was already, you highly doubted he could touch the surface. He’d be lucky if his fingers grazed it at all.

“No, no jumping.” Greg spoke like a wound up parent, “Let’s do something proper.”

Alfie swung his arms back before leaping upwards and managing to touch the ceiling.

Once he’d done it, you ordered for him to lift you up so you could do it too. You grinned as you flattened your palm to it before he lowered you back down, patting your bottom lightly.

You looked straight at the camera, “Editors, make it so I did that all on my own.”

The boys then began discussing the plans of the day, going through the details of their gym session that would inevitably be happening because they made sure to rent a house with a gym inside of it.

“I can do arms. I can do arms.” Chip said when Alfie denied his ability to work out due to his ‘boob job’. “Speaking of my boob job, I need help tying it up.”

“I’m not tying up your corset, bro.” Alfie shook his head, “That’s where I draw the line with friendship.”

Chip suddenly lifted his shirt, showing off the strange, corset-like binder he was wearing underneath to support him after the surgery.

The spontaneous rapidity of his movement caused you to burst into laughter, leaning on the handle of your suitcase.

“You laughing at my boob job? Fine, but let me laugh at yours.” Chip said.

“What? I didn’t get a boob job.”

“He’s saying ‘coz your boobs got bigger.” Alfie chuckled.

“Yeah, Chip, breast feeding will do that to you.” You kissed your teeth.

It was an undeniable fact that your boobs had grown in size since having Arabella, and though they’d shrunk down a little since you’d stopped breastfeeding, they were still a cup or two bigger than before.

“This might be a, uh, personal question, feel free not to answer on cam, have you made love with that corset on?” Alfie asked.

“Yep— Errr, to who? My hand?”

“To someone excluding you.” Greg added.

“Yes.”

“Wow. That’s true love.” You hummed.

“You wouldn’t have sex with Alfie if he got his boobs removed?” Chip turned it on you.

“Me and Alfie have never had sex.” You shrugged, “And never will.”

Everyone went quiet as the camera panned towards Greg, who was still holding Arabella, the living proof that your declaration was a lie.

“I’m joking. I actually like his boobs.” You reached out, squeezing at his pecs, “Honk honk.”

“Bro!” Chip laughed loudly.

Alfie slung his arms around you, jolting you to the side aggressively and cupping your tits before squeezing at them and making the same sound.

“Alfie!” You screeched.

“You two are so strange.” Greg stared in bewilderment.

“Mummy boobs.” Arabella giggled, stretching an arm out herself.

It caused a wave of cacophonous laughter from everyone, including Frampton as the camera began shaking from it.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊

Chip was doing a car reveal for the video when an elderly couple walked past, the woman taking a second to wave and coo at Arabella. The toddler beamed, waving back.

“You have a very beautiful baby.” She spoke to you and Greg.

It caught you off guard for a split second before you realised how this looked to any outsiders. With you being the only girl with a group of boys, and Greg being the one holding Arabella, any strangers didn’t have a much better conclusion to come to.

“Oh, no she’s not mine.” Greg laughed before turning to Alfie, “She’s his and hers.”

“Oh, right! Sorry.” The lady laughed, “It’s just because you were holding her.”

You snorted, looking towards Alfie, who was standing there awkwardly.

“Either way, she’s very beautiful.”

“Say thank you, baby.” You whispered.

“‘Hank you.” Arabella smiled, squishing her eyes shut.

Once the couple had walked off, she prodded at Greg.

“Down now.”

“Yeah? You walking?” He hummed, lowering her so her feet were on the concrete and she was making her way towards Alfie.

“Y’alright?” He blinked at her.

“Hi daddy.” She grinned.

“Hi.” He chuckled, “What you doin’?”

“Walk.”

“I can see that.” He nodded.

“Big legs.”

“… What?”

“Make big.”

Alfie grinned at the sight of his daughter trying to explain what she was doing, “Stretching your legs?”

“Yes.”

“Good, you should.” He hummed before pointing to you, “Go walk to mummy and back.”

Arabella did as he said, toddling over to you, losing a bit of balance but clutched onto your leggings for stability.

You let your hand drop down and rest on top of her head.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.” She muttered, focusing on her feet as she manoeuvred the other way around and stomped back over to her dad.

“In you go!” He grunted as he picked her up and moved to put her in the booster seat.

She let out a loud scream, clutching onto the outside of the car, “No!”

“What the fuck was that?” Chip mumbled.

You peered your head around the back of the car.

“Why you screaming?” Alfie frowned.

Arabella started crying out of nowhere, clutching her dad’s shirt for dear life, “No alone!”

You huffed, walking around and crouching in front of her.

“You’re not sitting alone. We’re all getting in the car. Stop screaming and stop crying.” You gritted out, wiping his cheeks with your hand, “You’re being silly.”

She nodded, sniffling, “Silly.”

“She alright?” Greg asked.

“She’s being dramatic. It’s because she’s hot. She’ll cry at anything.” Alfie explained.

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In the car, thankfully, Greg managed to have her in a laughing fit as he spewed off random words that sounded German. You weren’t sure if they were actual German words, or he was just putting the phonetics of the German language together, but it had Arabella cackling like a witch in her booster seat.

Cameras had been stuck to the front window so that Frampton didn’t have to film in the car journeys, and he could just sit in the back row chilling. You and Alfie were on either side of Arabella, while Chip was driving and Greg was in the front.

It took Chip far too long to figure out how to get out of the car park, but once he had, the drive was smooth, which you were overly thankful for because you didn't want to deal with Arabella vomiting.

“Look at this plane tryin’ to land.” He pointed out.

“Ah, yeah,” Alfie faked enthusiasm to peak Arabella’s attention, “Look Bells.”

She craned her neck forward, looking through the skylight “Plane.”

“That thing looks like it’s about to go down.”

“Chip!”

“Sorry.” He paused, “Did you guys ever used to lips up your own hand before you’d ever kissed a girl back in the day?”

“Yeah …” Alfie seemed unconvinced, “It’d be good if you didn’t swerve when you did that and wipe out my whole family.”

“Yeah, sorry, bro.”

You placed your hands over Arabella’s ears for your next sentence, “I never made out with my own hand but I used to practice giving head when I ate a banana.”

“What the fuck?”

“Did you know about this?” Greg turned to Alfie.

He nodded with pursed lips, “Told her to drop the banana and come give some real slops.”

Thankfully the conversation came to an end just as Arabella began whining about having her ears covered, pushing your hands away.

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Upon entry, the house was lovely. The floors were a chilling cold which felt amazing considering the heat outside, and there was so much space in every room.

The gym had to be one of the largest rooms there, and was undoubtedly going to be the one the boys spent the most amount of time in. You couldn’t say the same. You wouldn’t say your ideal habitat was in a gym room with four men while your daughter did god knows what halfway across the house.

“Look at the basketball chair. This is the only reason I wanted this gaff.” Alfie grinned, sitting down in the chair that was indeed shaped and styled like a basketball. “Bells, come.”

Arabella waddled toward her dad, “Ball.”

“Yeah, big basketball chair.” He hummed, picking her up and setting her in his lap, “Reader.”

You lifted your head out of your phone, looking at the sight and then awing before getting a picture that would undoubtedly be used in an Instagram dump on one of your accounts.

“Yeah, you’ve been messing with basketball chairs the whole time I’ve known you.” Greg played along, “And now you’re getting your offspring on it. I rate it.”

Alfie pulled a face, “Offspring?”

“Yeah, Arabella’s your offspring.”

Alfie adjusted, swapping places so Arabella was sat alone on the basketball chair and he was free to test out the gym equipment and darts board.

He wasn’t very accurate with his throwing, but he towed you into a bet of giving him head tonight if he got a bullseye.

He didn’t, in fact he missed one of the shots and the dart clattered to the ground, but he still glanced at you expectantly.

“You missed.”

“I won’t miss tonight.” He jeered.

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After a game of crocodile dentist, which was won by your boyfriend, he got to pick the biggest room to stay in, and that had you feeling like a smug winner by association as you unzipped your suitcase.

“Reader making herself right at home.” Chip commented.

“My fella won, I get to reap the benefits of that. Cry about it.” You gave him a fake smile.

The boys all cuddled together on the bed, Alfie uncomfortably sandwiched between the two of them, to which you stared blankly while Arabella stood at your feet.

He saw them out so the three of you could get well settled in the room, waving them off.

“I’ve got a rule for this room; no dirty piggies allowed.”

Greg burst out laughing while Arabella giggled from the bed, snacking on her fingers.

“Ah!” You snapped at her.

Sheepishly, she pulled them away, knowing she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t allowed to do.

You and Alfie had been trying to get her to stop gnawing on her hand whenever she got bored or fidgety, because quite frankly, it was gross and no one in public wanted to see a toddler’s slobber everywhere.

“I might as well just fucking wait for everyone to pick and you lot let me know which one I’m in.” Greg huffed as you all made your way down the stairs, “You fuckin’ muscly, stupid football playing charity match prick.” He aimed at Alfie as he followed right behind him, “Get here, I’m gonna fuck ya!”

“That’s my job, Greg.” You sighed, shaking your head.

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On the way to the restaurant you were having dinner at, Greg grabbed a ‘traditional Madeiran hat’ from a shop and refused to take it off throughout the whole meal.

The American diner was great, it was well decorated and the seats were comfy. The boys seemed to be umming and arring over the quality of the food, but you didn’t think it was too bad, and neither did Arabella.

She was back on Alfie’s lap as he tore up little pieces of the chicken tenders and blew on them so they were an appropriate temperature for her to eat.

She took the torn off piece and leaned forwards, stretching across the table to dunk it into the pot of sauce that Chip had acquired.

“Bella!” You gasped at her audacity to just take from someone else, “You have to ask, baby.”

She blinked from you to Chip and then down to her chicken covered in sauce, “Have please, Uncle ‘Ip?”

The boys weren’t half as bothered as you were, finding the situation rather funny instead.

“Yeah, ‘course you can.” He nodded, nudging the pot further in her direction.

“‘Hank you.” She beamed, continuing to eat.

You shook your head at her as she waved lightly at you.

“You have … sauce all over your hand.” Alfie grimaced, grabbing a napkin and wiping his daughter's hand over, twisting at her fingers to make sure they were properly clean.

“It’s literally just chicken in cornflakes.” Greg shrugged.

“Yummy.” Arabella spoke with her mouth full.

You gave her a stern, disappointed look, and she glanced up to her dad, expecting him to say something in her defence. Alfie shrugged and then held his finger to his lips, shushing her, to which she copied.

“I might’ve had a slight fumble here.” Chip admitted.

“Definitely.” You agreed.

“Nuh uh!” Arabella, once again, spoke with her mouth full.

“Bella.”

She stared directly at you and began purposefully babbling loud, disruptive noises while smacking her lips excessively.

You shrugged, “Alright.” and then turned your body fully away from her, having your plate in your lap instead.

“Uh oh, Bella’s in trouble.” Chip sang teasingly.

“No, mummy!” Arabella hit your back.

“Oi!” Alfie lifted his daughter, manoeuvring her to face away from you, “What you doin’?”

“Mummy—“

“No. You don’t hit people.”

“Y’know, it’s mad weird watching AB be a proper dad.” Greg spoke to the camera, while Alfie continued to scold Arabella gently, “Like, not ‘coz I expect him to be bad at it, it’s just … I dunno.”

“Mummy.” Arabella patted your back softly.

You turned back to face her.

“Mummy, hug?”

“Are you sorry?”

She nodded and you opened your arms for her. She beamed brightly, wrapping her tiny, pudgy arms around your midsection.

“That was good, bro.” Chip said to Alfie, slightly shocked by the way he handled the situation so maturely.

Alfie shrugged, “Dad life, ennit?”

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The evening was beautifully chilled. You and Alfie were lounging in your bedroom while Arabella sat on the floor (by choice) in her pyjamas, while watching a childish YouTube video on her dad’s phone, something about surprise toy eggs covered in Play-Doh.

Somewhere between talking casually and doing nothing, your lips had found his and had begun moving the rhythmic dance that was to blame for starting the very activity that was the reason you were parents at such young ages.

You couldn’t help but grin into the kiss, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks while his fell to your waist, slowly but surely turning his body until he was hovering on top of you.

It was when his fingers snuck round your front to slide beneath the waistband of your leggings that the both of you had to pull away and stop yourselves.

“Not while Bella’s in the room, Alf.”

He closed his eyes, groaning in annoyance before spontaneously standing up.

Downstairs, Chip was still filming for the video, talking mindlessly to the camera beside Greg while the football played on the large TV.

It was a very amusing clip to see Alfie come jogging down the stairs carrying his two year old, rambling off the title of some YouTube video for her to watch, dumping her on the couch and then legging it back upstairs.

Chip got a shot of him and Bella in the frame together, staring at each other through the camera, though he knew it wouldn’t be half as funny in the video because his editors were going to have to blur her face, so the viewers weren’t able to see the humorous blankness of her expression.

“Well, now we’re watching a … I don’t know, actually.” Chip hummed, panning the camera to the TV, which was now displaying a video for Arabella.

She was watching it very intently, despite having barely a clue as to what was happening in it. He supposed she was just very enticed by the bright colour of the Play-Doh and the cute toys that came out of the plastic egg.

He then turned the shot to include Greg, who was sitting on the other side of Arabella, phone face down and also very attentively watching the YouTube video.

“Doggy.” She giggled as a plastic doggy was opened up from a blind bag.

“Do you know what sound a doggy makes?” Greg asked her, “Sound, AB?”

“Woof woof!” She mimicked what she knew.

“Yeah, high five!”

Her palm smacked against his, and he pretended that she was far too strong for him, clutching his hand to his chest and making her cackle heartily.

“Just me and Window Kid entertaining little AB while big AB and his mrs have a shag up there— They’re definitely doing that by the way.”

“What, shagging?” Greg tilted his head up.

“Yeah.”

“Hundred percent, bro.”

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After yours and Alfie’s … strenuous activities, you hopped in the shower together, in which he handed you his razor and encouraged you to help him shave as neatly as possible. Once that was done, he then offered to do yours, and in response you blinked and told him you didn’t need help with that, but he insisted (“Nah, girl, I can get all up in there, trust. Spread ‘em.”).

You threw on one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers to head downstairs and join everyone else while he settled on a simple towel.

Chip already had the camera on and recording as you descended, the pair of you looking like you were doing the infamous walk of shame.

“First of all, bro, I just did, like, a half an hour shave of my whole shit.” Alfie laughed breathily, “Gave Reader the razor and told her to give me a low taper ‘coz I was bored.”

“Nah, your boy does a full shave for a Chippo vid.” Chip mocked.

“Your boy has an everything shower.”

“Your fella begs to shave your bush.” You added, startling them both.

“What?! AB, what the fuck!”

“Nah, nah, I don’t support deforestation ‘n’ that—“

Chip wheezed, “—Deforestation—“

“—But she did mine, thought I’d be gentlemanly and offer to do hers.”

“Right, well, enough of that. Go in there. Go in there,” He pointed to the bathroom, “It stinks so bad.”

You stood far back, picking Arabella up off the sofa and holding her in your arms while Alfie walked towards the downstairs bathroom, going over Greg’s ‘overflowing/ flooding shit’ story.

“Mummy.” Arabella said quietly through a yawn.

“I know, baby. Bedtime, okay?”

She whined in protest, but still buried her face in your neck.

Just as Alfie poked his head into the bathroom, he gagged, coughed and immediately walked away, ignoring any of Chip’s pleas for him to come back and do it again.

“Reader, smell it! Smell it!” He said excitably.

“Shh!” You shushed the man while walking back and forth with your daughter, hoping that soothing movement would lull her to sleep, “Also, no. I’m not smelling Greg’s literal shit.”

On the way up the stairs, Alfie paused to talk to Greg, who was fully naked in his bathroom with just his head poking out of the door frame. While they were talking, Chip zoomed in on Alfie’s chest, the camera picking up all the little hairs growing across his pecs.

“Did an everything shower but couldn’t sort your chest out?”

“What are you doing?” Alfie giggled.

“Couldn’t sort the chest out?”

“Bro, trust the process with the chest.”

“Oh, you tryna grow something new?”

“Reader likes it, so I keep it.” He gave an unbothered shrug.

“Alfie.” You hummed, looking down at where Arabella was drooling excessively while gnawing on her fingers.

“Alright, another one of those nights.” He sighed heavily, “Let’s just get her down and see if she sleeps through it.”

“What’s this?” Chip asked.

“She’s got her last baby teeth coming in and they really hurt at night. I apologise in advance if she wakes you up by screaming and crying.”

“Shit, it’s one of those?” He winced.

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Thankfully, she had gone down without much of a fight, and you both tucked her in to the little cot in the corner with a kiss on the forehead and making sure that her cow plushy was hugged tight to her chest.

Back downstairs, Chip thought it was funny to walk around, fully bent in half with his hands clutching his ankles. He looked like something out of a horror movie, especially in the low light of the living room only being illuminated by the football back on the TV.

“Eugh!” Alfie groaned, pointing at him.

He’d put on a pair of adidas shorts for now, which you knew would be coming off when you went to bed.

“Imagine he starts running like that.”

You gasped, sitting up.

Alfie looked at you, “No, no, no.”

“I can run in a back bend.”

“No way!” Chip cackled, standing up straight now, “Do it, do it.”

You stood, tucking the shirt into the boxers so you didn’t flash anyone, and arched backwards until your hands were on the floor whilst your head was upside down. You then began moving at an extremely fast pace around the living room.

Greg screamed, tucking his knees to his chest on the sofa while Chip writhed uncomfortably and bounced from foot to foot.

“Stop, man.” Alfie chuckled as you came right up to him, “Bare weird, girl.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Greg cackled, “Please teach Arabella to do the same and then both freak AB out at the same time.”

“Bro, no!”

It was like perfect timing, because the moment you stood back to full height, Arabella began shrieking upstairs.

“There we go, that’s the teeth.” You huffed, already making the move to go upstairs.

“Does she get nightmares?” Greg asked, scratching at his beard.

“Uhhh … not really?” Alfie replied, “Only sometimes but a quick cuddle and she’s alright.”

“Bella.” You cooed, flipping the light switch on and crouching in front of her bed.

“Mummy daddy!” She sobbed loudly, crawling towards you while suckling on the ear of her stuffed cow.

“I know, I know.” You whispered, lifting her up, “Alf!” You called out.

“Comin’!”

By the time he’d wrapped up downstairs with the boys and scaled the stairs, you’d gotten comfy against the headboard of your own bed, Arabella pressed up against your chest while still wailing.

You were trying to lull her back to sleep, shushing down her ear while stroking at her back and head.

She kept rubbing her jaw against your collarbone, seemingly trying to soothe the pressuring ache inside of her mouth.

“Hey.” Alfie spoke softly, closing the door behind him and crawling into bed beside you.

Her harsh waterworks restarted at the sight of her dad, craving comfort from the both of you.

He snuggled closer, resting his cheek on your bicep while stroking his thumb over her cheek, wiping her tears as they fell.

“Daddy, hurt.” She cried.

“I know it hurts, Bells.” He frowned in defeat, “I know.”

She reached out for his finger, trying to put it in her mouth.

“No, we’re not allowed to do that, remember? No fingers and hands in mouths.”

The rejection only hit her harder as her face screwed up in distress.

You sighed heavily, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and adjusting so that you were sat better up straight.

A knock came from the door, and Alfie let the person know they were okay to enter.

It was Chip, and he was holding one of Arabella’s dummy’s.

“This was downstairs, I dunno if it’s gonna help.”

“Cheers, bro.” Alfie took it from him with a nod.

“We’re all coming bed now though— No pressure, don’t rush her to stop crying, just thought I’d let you know we’re shutting off.”

“Alright, see you in the morning.”

“Night Chip.” You smiled tiredly before whispering to Bella, “Wanna say night night to Uncle Chip?”

Instead of speaking, she raised an arm and waved as much as she could through the concentrated pain in her jaw.

“Night, Arab.”

And then the door was closed again.

Alfie tried to slide the rubber end of the dummy between Arabella’s lip, but she was having none of it, instead deciding to rear her head back with a sobbing whine.

“Bella, please, baby.” You muttered, “It’ll help, okay?”

She clung to you tighter, squeezing your shirt in her fist.

You gave Alfie a nod, signalling for him to try again.

This time, he was successful, and Arabella’s wails were dulled to a light sniffling and the occasional dribble of tears.

“There we go, darlin’.” He smiled, taking her off of you and proceeding to pace the floor to help her doze off.

She’d worn herself out with all her crying, so it didn’t take long for her eyes to shut and her soft snores to fill the room.

Once she’d been put back down in her cot, Alfie clambered back into bed in his boxers, wrapping you up in his arms tightly and dotting kisses along your hairline.

“G’Night.”

“Night.”

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In the morning, Alfie had been the one to bathe Arabella while you stood in front of the large bathroom mirror, doing your makeup and occasionally pulling faces at your daughter through the reflective glass.

She giggled loudly at you before swiping a hand out and covering Alfie’s cheek in soap suds.

“Bella!” He groaned, wiping them off using his shoulder.

“‘Oap!”

“Yeah, I know, girl. But, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get it all over my face.” He muttered, tilting her head back and pouring water in little splashes over her hair to rinse it free of shampoo.

Once she was done and bored of splashing about, he heaved her out of the bath and wrapped her in her dressing down.

“Cold, daddy.” Her lips trembled as she hugged her hands to her chest.

“I know, let’s go get dressed.”

When you finished your makeup, you returned to the bedroom, finding your daughter in a pair of denim dungarees that had little butterflies stitched on, and a baby yellow t-shirt on underneath.

“Good fit?” Alfie asked while tugging a t-shirt on.

You hummed and nodded, pleased by his choice before rummaging around through your own clothes to find something to wear.

You decided on a pair of tiny shorts and a retro Adidas shirt that was striped with green and cream. The fabric was relatively thick too so it wouldn’t leave you too cold.

“Socks and shoes, baby.” You crouched in front of Arabella, shoving some socks onto her feet.

“No!” She whined, throwing herself backwards and trying to kick them off.

“Bella.” You said, tone firm but trying to be patient, “Stop kicking please.”

“Off! Off!” She screamed, fighting back as you pushed her foot into her shoe.

“What the fuck is going on?” Greg poked his head in whilst shrugging a plaid shirt on.

“She doesn’t wanna put shoes on.” Alfie huffed, sitting on the bed and pulling Arabella into his lap to hold her in place while you wrestled with her feet to cover them up.

She wasn’t just screaming anymore, she was bawling.

You pursed your lips, keeping quiet and ignoring her protests as you did the velcro strap and put her feet down.

“No!” She cried, tears streaming, “Don’t want!”

“You’re not walking around the streets barefoot, Bella.”

Alfie lowered her back down to the floor, and she dramatically threw herself onto it, rolling around and wailing.

Instead of giving her any form of attention, you walked around her and unplugged your phone from its place on charge at your bedside. Alfie sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her with a blank expression along with Greg.

“Daddy, off!” She tried, kicking her feet into his shin.

“Oi!” He snapped, reaching down and taking a hold of her ankles, “Do not kick me. Understand?”

“I want off!”

“You can’t. We’re going out. I’ll say it again, do not kick me. It hurts, it’s not nice.”

It didn’t hurt. She was only two. But he had to find some way to acknowledge her bad behaviour.

“Alfie, don’t shout at her.” You whispered while putting earrings in, “It won’t help.”

“I know, I know.”

She thrashed her legs again, and this time, Greg crouched down to her level.

“AB, look, mate.” He pointed to his shoes, “Look at my shoes. Aren’t they cool? We can both have our shoes on.”

“I don’t like it!”

“Yeah, I don’t like wearing shoes either, but we can do it together, yeah?”

She thought for a moment, and then began shuffling toward Greg, and then curled herself up in his arms.

“Aw, this is nice.” He grinned, “Thank you, AB.”

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In the car, Arabella was still in a mood with Alfie for shouting at her, and demanded that Greg sit in the back with her. She held his hand the whole time, babbling his ear off in short bursts all while he nodded along.

“Let’s go back to parrots, has anyone deeped how they can actually speak English?” Chip asked from the driver’s seat.

Alfie sighed, “They can’t, though.”

“Yes they can.” He mocked the sound of a parrot, making Arabella laugh.

“No, they can’t. They just mimic, like, the pitch— I can’t remember how it works but they can’t actively speak English, they can just mimic noises and how words sound. That’s why they only say words they hear a lot.” You explained, peering your head around the seat to talk to Chip.

“Didn’t realise we had David Attenborough in the car, fuckin’ hell.”

“I remember— ah, have I said this before? I don’t even wanna say it.” Alfie shook his head.

“Nah, just say it now. You can’t start and then not finish at all.”

“We watched the Romeo and Juliet film in English, um, like Leonardo DiCaprio one, and um, like, in lesson, I think there was a bit of boob on show at one point, and the second I got home, I bought that film on YouTube and I paused on that and just went nuts on it.”

“Alfie!” You groaned, your expression one of utter disgust as you shook your head.

“And I told my mates ‘coz I thought they’d find it funny and I’m pretty sure next time we were with a group of girls they went like ‘Oi, y’know AB fuckin’ wanked over Romeo and Juliet’ and they were all like ‘Ewwww’.”

“Good. That’s what you get for being with other girls before me.” You sneered jokingly.

“Fuck, she’s got you there.” Chip murmured.

“That’s actually quite romantic, bro.” Greg spoke up.

“Me wanking to Shakespeare or my mrs being mad I spoke to gal before her?”

“I mean,” He scoffed out laughter, “Both. I rate you for the wank, and I rate her for the possessiveness.”

“10/10 couple.” Chip added on.

“Yeah, 10/10 but they can’t get their daughter to wear shoes.” Greg joked, making Arabella give him a high five. “Wait, you know how girls, like, uh, read erotic books and toss themselves off—“

“A Court of Thorns and Roses.”

“Ball knowledge.” You smirked at Chip’s mention.

“Do you think some lads read books and wank?”

His question caused a wave of laughter and a light debate started before Frampton added in his own thoughts.

“My mrs is obsessed with Draco Malfoy and Hermione fan fiction.”

“Oh God!” Alfie groaned and laughed.

“That’s actually crazy, bro.”

“That’s like … that’s peak teenage girl fan fiction.” You giggled, starting to reminisce yourself “Like, pulling all nighters during summer just to read— Wow, what a time.”

“You used to read that?!” Greg exclaimed.

“Okay, personally I never indulged in a Dramione fanfic—“

“—Dramione—!”

“— But the first fanfic I ever read was a Ron Weasley one and I still remember it to this day.”

“What did you read it on?”

“Wattpad.” You shrugged.

“Aren’t there shit about me on there?” Alfie turned to you.

“I dunno, probably. There’s loads of Sidemen fanfics on there.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah.”

“Probably all for Wroetoshaw, mate.” Chip guffawed.

“Harry.” Arabella cooed from the back.

It went silent for a little until everyone began laughing again.

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Out of the car, there was a long trek down to the restaurant you were going to for brunch, and on the way you discovered that there was a car park further down, which would’ve saved you the entire journey.

Arabella whined at the sloping concrete, tugging on the bottom of Alfie’s shorts.

“What, Bella?”

“Up.”

“Oh, what, now you like me?” He sassed.

“Daddy, up.” She whined, burying her face in his leg.

“What do you say?”

“Please.”

After she used her manners, Alfie caved, lifting her up and settling her in his arms to carry her the rest of the way.

In the restaurant, one of the men that worked there recognised Chip through his collaborations with the Sidemen and then saw you all to a table. They pulled up a special highchair for Arabella so she didn’t have to perch on yours or Alfie’s lap the whole time.

The food you’d ordered was good, and you were relatively surprised when Alfie actually ate most of what he’d ordered, though you’d spent half of your meal trying to encourage Arabella to eat and your own food had gone cold.

“Reader, swap.” Alfie motioned, moving to take your seat so that he had the responsibility of feeding your daughter and not you.

“Are you sure—“

“Sit down and eat, please.”

There was an entire fish on the table that everyone was taking the mick out of, including Chip, who decided it would be funny to mimic a Jamaican accent while toying with it just as the waiter approached again.

“Sorry about my mate using it as a Jamaican puppet.” Alfie said, causing you to bark out laughter.

Towards the end of the meal, Frampton ended up losing the drone to a ridiculously tall tree. You all ventured down to the tree line and Alfie tried numerous different tactics to get the drone down, including shaking the tree, throwing more sticks up at it, and even attempting to scale the entire thing at one point.

“Alfie, get down!” You exclaimed.

“Why?!”

“Because I need you alive?!” You scoffed, “Seriously, come down before you fall down.”

Unfortunately, Frampton didn’t get his drone back, but the restaurant did give you all the meal for free, which was very lovely of them to do. So you returned to the car with full bellies and more cash in your wallets than you’d expected.

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The next adventure for the day was a cable car journey up a section of Madeira, and then to get back down you’d be put in little wooden sleds and pushed down sloping roads with two residents guiding you.

Chip upgraded you all to glass floors, which meant the entire cable car was made of glass and gave you a completely unfiltered view of the city around you.

Arabella kicked up a fuss about it, freaked out about being able to see the drop beneath her, so she sat on your lap and kept her gaze on the window looking outwards rather than down.

“AB, look, it’s fine.” Greg said, stranding on the glass floor and walking back and forth.

Of course it caused the cable car to shake a little, and Arabella screamed in terror, diving back into your neck and sobbing.

“Fuck, I thought it would help.” Greg put a hand to his mouth and sat back down.

“Bro.” Alfie laughed, shaking his head.

“Arab, it’s okay, I don’t like it neither.” Chip muttered, stroking her cheek.

“Want out!”

“I know, I’m sorry. It is my fault. I upgraded without thinking about it.”

“Should I lay my jacket out on the floor?” Alfie asked.

“No, just pass it over here.” You motioned.

He chucked it over, and you spread it out, covering the top of Arabella’s head so her view is restricted to you only. Her cheek rested against your chest, feeling for your heartbeat to soothe herself.

“This is the bread and butter of Madeira.” Chip commented, gazing out of the window once he was a little more comfortable, “Ronaldo would’ve just been living up in a house like this, then he probably went to that football pitch to kick ball.”

“Apparently he used to do keepie-uppies inside his … when he was a kid, on his way up to the mountain.” Greg gestured to the outside.

“Used to play crossbar challenge in that diner as well.” Alfie added with a little smirk, making you chuckle under your breath and shake your head.

“Do you reckon Ronaldo’s been to that diner?” Chip asked seriously.

“I … I think it’s a slim chance.”

Halfway up the mountain, Greg and Chip began farting continuously, being amusing to only them as you and Alfie sat shoulder-to-shoulder, jokingly covering Arabella like she was about to be attacked.

“Why we doing that? Why we all farting?” Alfie scratched his ear.

It was then that a little ‘poot’ came from your lap.

The boys went quiet as you lifted Alfie’s jacket from Arabella’s head, only to find her giggling to herself.

“Whoopsy mummy.” She whispered with her hand over her mouth.

Your head reared back in hysterical laughter while Alfie chuckled and pinched his nosebridge.

Greg was leaning forwards on his knees, tears pricking in his eyes as Chip clutched at his stomach.

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At the top of the mountain, Greg paid for a print out of the photo you’d all taken, and then got a round of drinks that he thought was going to be alcoholic based on the presentation of them.

They’d carved out a pineapple and filled the inside with a drink. Chip and Greg were sharing while you and Alfie did too.

Once you’d all finished your drinks, and taken a load of pictures together (mainly of you and Alfie, sometimes with Arabella) you ended up walking through a little museum that was surrounded by rainforest-like trees.

Arabella insisted on walking by herself, so you put her down and she waddled her way through the museum, stopping to look at only the most intricate of paintings.

The contemporary, modern pieces didn’t interest her in the slightest, but all the large ones with numerous colours had her looking at them in awe.

You stayed close to her while the boys lingered behind, doing a few bits for the video before continuing on outside.

“It’s butt plug man.” Alfie sniggered while pointing his camera at a statue of a man with a tear-drop shaped head.

“Where’s your one, Alf?” You hummed.

“I don’t have one.” He scoffed.

You looked at him sceptically, as if you knew otherwise.

“Where’s yours?” He retorted.

“In your boxers.”

“That was cold.” Chip chuckled, nodding in approval, “That was fucking cold— Y’know what?” He gave you a high five and you shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’m here all day. It’s just what I do.”

“We could be in Thailand. This looks like the places those monkeys, like, steal your shoelaces and shit.” Alfie explained, filming the area for his own vlog, “D’you agree, girl?”

You hummed and nodded, “I know what you mean, it does.”

“Yes.” He hissed, pumping his fist, “Mrs approval, that’s all I want.”

You all walked around outside for a little while longer, and you grabbed a few photos of Arabella staring out at nothing, along with a few of her next to her dad, before venturing into the next part of the museum which was designated to crystals.

You had to remind Arabella that she had to hold Alfie’s hand throughout the entire time, and if she let go then she’d have to be carried for the rest of the day. You didn’t want to risk her touching things and damaging them, so instilling this rule was your safest bet.

The boys weren’t too arsed, except for Chip, whereas you were mesmerised by all the beautiful colours and intricate designs.

“Isn’t it mad that nature can just do this.” You whispered, looking at the camera Frampton was holding, “Bella’s dossing about with her dad ‘coz he doesn’t give a shit but this is so cool to me.”

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Unfortunately, the queue for the sledding down the hill was ridiculously long, so you all made the unanimous decision to come back in the morning before it got popular.

There was a little convenience store around, so you all grabbed some snacks and drinks.

The monsters they had were tiny, just about the size of Alfie’s head and he could hold one between his thumb and first finger.

You would be lying if you said the size comparison didn’t have your tummy doing little flips, but you were also in public, so that was a thought you were going to have to keep to yourself.

Until Alfie looked at you, noticing the look in your eye and laughing, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“You little fuckin’ freak.”

“Did I miss something?” Chip frowned.

“Nah, nah.”

You giggled, unfurling yourself from his arms and going to get some stuff for yourself.

When you returned with a bottle of Dr. Pepper and a small tub of Texas BBQ Pringles, you found Alfie holding the tiny can to his mouth and uttering about wanting to ‘fuck it’.

You blinked, expression blank.

“Your mrs caught you, bro.” Chip cackled.

“Nah,” Alfie whispered, turning to you, “Nah, you too, girl. C’mere.”

“No. I see how it is.” You shrugged, “You’d rather make love to a can of white monster than the mother of your child. Fine.”

“I made love you last night, is that not enough?”

“I knew it!” Chip gasped, “I fucking knew it.”

“Mummy?” Arabella came waddling over to you holding a KitKat, “TeeTat please?”

“No, you’re already having Magic Stars.”

“Please!” She begged.

“No.” You repeated.

“I love the way you talk to her like she’s 20.” Chip chuckled, “Just straight up ‘no’.”

You shrugged, “If I baby talk her, it makes her think she’s close to getting her way.”

“Daddy.” She pouted, “TeeTat.”

“I know.” He hummed, “KitKat or Magic Stars?”

She huffed at being given an ultimatum, before shuffling off.

“AB.” Greg whispered to her at the counter.

She perked her head up, watching as he gestured for her to hand it over. A triumphant grin took over her face as she passed it to him, observing as he paid and then slid it into his pocket.

“I’ll give it to you later, don’t tell mummy or daddy.” He winked, ruffling her hair.

She giggled, stomping her feet excitable and nodding before running back to you, only to stack it right at your feet.

“For God sake.” You huffed as her lower lip trembled and tears brewed in her water line.

Alfie took your snacks from you so he could pay and give you the room to pick her up.

You were lucky to make it outside before she started properly wailing.

Finding a bench, you sat down with her on your lap and checked over her body, making sure she hadn’t cut herself anywhere or hit her head off the shelf.

“Oh, Bells.” You frowned as she cried, “You’re okay, chick. Big fall, hm?”

She nodded, coughing and leaning into your chest.

“Mummy’s here, you’re alright.”

“Hurted.”

“I know.” You cooed, wrapping your arms around her tighter.

She managed to calm herself down after you placed a soothing hand on her back and rubbed back and forth.

Alfie came out the shop with a white plastic bag, carrying everything for the three of you.

“Bells, we’re going hat shop. Wanna go get a hat?” He cooed, tickling under her chin.

“Daddy.” She sniffled, reaching for him.

“Oh, I know, darlin’.” He sighed, handing you the bag so he could carry your daughter around.

In the hat store, Greg got another hat and Alfie got a red bucket hat. Arabella ended up picking out a purple cap with little yellow flowers dotted all over it.

“That’s pretty, baby.” You grinned as they walked out in their new hats.

She grinned at the compliment, giggling shyly.

The walk back to the car was leisurely, the journey even more so as you pulled into the car park of where you were headed next.

“Ask me about my fit!” Alfie said to Chip.

“Oi, tell me about your fit.”

“Pwwwww … what?!” Alfie blew out air dramatically, causing a lot of chuckles and head shakes.

“I thought you were gonna run through it!”

“Ah, yeah yeah yeah,” Alfie nodded, “Head—“

“If you’re offering.” You smirked.

He pointed to you, “Behave. Head, CR7 bucket hat, priceless—“

“Boring!”

“Reader, shut up, man!”

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The water was fucking freezing. You had no doubts that it probably would’ve been lovely had the weather been above mediocre, however it wasn’t. The sky was grey and cloudy, and the water you were standing in shot goosebumps up your skin.

Arabella stood on the side in a little one piece that had a frilly skirt around the edge. She stared at the water like it might reach out and bite her.

“You coming?” You hummed, reaching out for her.

Alfie sat down entirely, submerging his full body apart from his head in the water, deciding to just soak himself to get over the constant shivers.

“Scared, mummy.” Arabella sniffled.

There was a little red mark on her knees from where they’d made contact with the floor of the convenience store earlier, and the physical evidence of her hurt made your heart weep, but you knew this was just what came with being a toddler. You were sure there were numerous times where you would’ve injured yourself in public and won’t remember it anymore.

“I know, it’s a little scary, huh?” You spoke with a light tone, trying to encourage her to get in, “But look, me and daddy did it. Do you wanna join us?”

“Bells, come join me, darlin’.” Alfie beckoned her closer.

“Bella, Bella, Bella.” Greg chanted for her.

She also had inflatables wrapped around her biceps, making her arms stick out a whole lot more than usual. It made her look kinda silly, but you were okay with her looking slightly ridiculous if it meant she’d be alive.

“Otay, I come.” She finally agreed, stepping one foot into the water before screaming at how cold it was.

You all laughed heartily at her reaction.

“Daddy’s coming to get you.” Alfie stood up to his full height, water dripping from his swimming trunks.

“Daddy, too cold!”

“Nah, you just gotta get used to it, Bells.” He said, picking her up under her armpits and holding her to his chest before sitting back down in the water.

Her cheeks puffed out immediately, and she flapped for a while before finding her dads shoulders and latching onto them.

“Good girl, baby!” You cheered, clapping.

“Fuckin’ell, she’s braver than me!” Chip guffawed, finally finding it within himself to submerge below his stomach.

“Let’s go swim, yeah?” Alfie kicked out into the deeper end, treading water and holding Arabella out by her hands, “Kick, okay? I wanna see big splashes from your feet.”

She grunted while trying to hold her head above water, but kicked as she’d been taught in her swimming lessons, creating a splash that would’ve been considered dramatic and big for anyone her size.

“If I let go, will you swim to mummy?”

Arabella nodded.

Alfie slowly let go of his daughter's fingers, however he kept his arms outstretched in case it all went wrong and he needed to intervene as soon as possible.

“Look at that!” Greg exclaimed as Arabella basically doggy-paddled toward you.

“Yay, Bella!” You beamed at her, lifting her into your arms once she reached you.

She coughed and wiped her face, squeezing her eyes shut before opening them again.

“Too cold, mummy.” She whimpered, lips chattering.

“Okay, we’ll get out.” You kissed her cheek, rising from the shallow end and stepping out, “I’m proud of you, though.”

You found her pink and orange towel poncho amongst the other items you’d brought out and left near the sun loungers, putting it over her head until she was wrapped and warming up again.

“Where’s she gone?” Chip threw his hands up.

“It’ll be too cold for her.” Alfie tutted before flipping off of a surface into the deep end.

Once she’d warmed up again, she wanted to go back in.

“Why doesn’t Uncle Chip hold you, yeah? Because he can’t go in properly?” You proposed the idea.

“Sounds good.” Chip nodded, taking Arabella from you.

He remained on his knees in the shallow bit, holding onto your daughter like his life depended on it, occasionally bringing her up and down out of the water to make little splashes.

You and Alfie had ventured far off into the deep end at this point, swimming around each other with teasing grins. The sensual looks were merely because you’d noticed his eyes giving your body a whole lot of attention, and he could say the same about you.

“You look so fit right now.” Alfie sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Mmm, careful. We’re in public.” You tutted, your hands clasping at the back of his neck.

“I would literally fuck you right now if it was sanitary and you didn’t care.”

“In front of our daughter and your friends? Very classy, Alf.”

“Okay, maybe if they all fucked off, yeah.”

It caused you to laugh audibly and lean further into his touch, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky tonight.” You murmured.

“Really? Two nights in a row?”

Teasingly, you shrugged, “I said maybe.”

“Fuck … you’re actually a nightmare.”

You scoffed, reeling back and slapping him playfully.

“Nah, a good nightmare. My favourite nightmare.”

“Okay, ew, cringe.”

“Bro!” He huffed, “Can’t a guy compliment his mrs anymore?”

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After another battle with another car park and struggling to get out, you managed to make it home safely. The boys gave a quick scan of the shitty bathroom that had been contaminated before getting changed to go out.

You sighed, shaking your head as you held Arabella on your chest on the sofa.

“Bro, just leave her here and come with us.” Chip suggested jokingly, “She’ll be fine.”

“Chip, I’m not leaving my two-year-old at home by herself so I can go out drinking. Besides, even if I did, I would be shitting it the entire time I was out. It’s okay. Have fun, me and Bella will have a little girls night at home.”

Alfie came jogging down the stairs in his new outfit, fitting a cap over his head and adjusting the belt that was holding up his black denim jeans.

“I’ll see you in a bit. Call me if you need me, I love you.” He rambled, pressing a kiss to your forehead and lips twice.

He felt guilty about you not being able to come out and drink with them on the strip, and he really did want you to come along with them. However there was a two-year-old that needed managing and Alfie was there for an actual video shoot with Chip, meanwhile you were technically only there because of him and his inability to leave you and your daughter alone for longer than three days at a time.

“Bye, love you too.” You grinned, kissing him once more before they left.

Indeed, you and Arabella had a lovely girls night in.

You put on some random cartoon for her to enjoy while you ordered some food.

You went through the photos you’d taken throughout the day, favouriting the ones you were going to use in your Instagram before looking back and finding your daughter passed out, drooling onto a pillow.

You smiled softly at the sight of her asleep, and reached over, caressing her cheek and dotting kisses along her face.

She truly was your peace on Earth and the reason you woke up in the morning.

Her being unconscious only encouraged you to wrap up downstairs and go up to bed. You switched off the lights, although you knew the boys were likely to return in the early hours of the morning and cause some sort of ruckus, and took yourself and your daughter upstairs for bed.

When Alfie came home that night, he immediately made his way toward your shared bedroom.

He knocked at first, just to give you a warning of another presence, before walking in. He half expected to find you awake and doomscrolling, but what he did find was even better.

You had completely passed out, sprawled across the mattress next to your two-year-old (despite her having her own bed in the room). And to make things better, you were in nothing but one of his shirts.

It was moments like these that really reminded Alfie of why he kept going, of why he did the things that he does.

It was all for you.

He shifted Arabella out of your bed and into her own before stripping down into his boxers and sliding into bed beside you.

With a whine, you ended up snuggling right up to him, latching onto his bare torso.

“Alright, girl?”

Your response was a muffled nothing, something you gave him whilst being in the space between half-asleep and full unconsciousness.

He snorted, letting you curl yourself fully around him before returning the favour, making sure everything was perfect in the little space of his family before letting his eyes shut for the night.

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As promised, in the morning of your last day, you got in the car and went straight to the basket ride down the mountain.

On the way there, you, Alfie and Arabella made sure to call his mum to wish her a happy birthday. She was elated to see her son and the family he’d created, uttering an emotional ‘thank you’ before letting you go to queue up and resume filming for Chip’s channel.

You were a massive fan of Alfie’s outfit today. It was just something about your man in a crew neck jumper that really did it for you.

He had Arabella in his arms again, being cramped into a little basket next to Chip with her in his lap was rather humorous to you as you giggled before being shoved next to Greg.

“Well, this is cozy.” You commented mindlessly.

“Reader, don’t say that. You’ll make me feel like your mistress.” Greg joked as the men on the back of your basket began pushing you down it.

“Mistress?!” You guffawed, cheeks beginning to hurt from how much you’d smiled already this morning.

“I don’t know what it’s called! What’s the male version of mistress?”

“Greg.”

“Ooo, yeah, true.”

Halfway down the road, you managed to pick up quite a bit of speed, which spooked you a little and you couldn’t help but wonder how Arabella was doing ahead of you.

You couldn’t hear her crying, which was a good start.

In fact, she was having a whale of a time. She was clinging tight to her dad while giggling down his ear, enjoying the feeling of the wind in her hair.

At the bottom of the hill, you all got out and reunited.

Arabella was beaming.

Her eyes were half shut and there were tears streaming down her cheeks from the wind hitting them, but she was grinning like the Cheshire Cat nonetheless.

“Fun?” You gasped at her.

“So fun!” She giggled, dancing around your feet.

There were some pictures to collect that had been grabbed on the way down, so once those were paid for and in your possession, you moved on to finding somewhere to grab a drink.

There was a vending machine nearby, to which Chip grabbed an original, and a white Monster, whereas you grabbed a diet coke for yourself and water for Arabella.

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You ended up going for brunch in a little cafe where all the boys ended up ordering far too much for themselves, especially Chip, who was already groaning despite there being half a plate of food left for him to devour.

Arabella was shovelling porridge into her mouth, rather strategically flicking the banana slices to the side and ignoring them.

“Eat them, please.” You said, picking up on her habit.

She whined but slid it onto her spoon with her fingers anyway.

“Thank you.”

“Here.” Alfie coughed, sliding one of his sausages onto your plate.

You gave him a bamboozled look, but the way he was leaning back into his chair and groaning told you that his eyes had been bigger than his belly once more. You rolled your eyes at him but indulged in the food he’d given to you anyway, cutting it up beforehand.

It was then that you noticed Arabella shifting uncomfortably in her seat and tugging at the hem of her skirt.

“Alfie, can you take her to the toilet please?”

He sighed and stood from the table.

“Don’t huff at me.” You retorted.

“Wh— I didn’t!”

“Daddy.” Bella slid off the chair, trotting from foot to foot excessively.

“Alright, I know. Let’s go.” He guided her towards the restroom after taking the bag you’d packed in case of any emergencies or accidents.

“He listens to you so well.” Greg cackled, “Honestly, I’ve never seen a man be more obedient.”

“Good.” You shrugged, “I didn’t carry our child for nine months and tear my vagina for him to sit around and do nothing.”

“Fairs. I hear it.” Chip nodded, reluctantly taking a bite of toast as to not waste so much food.

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The CR7 was not your first choice of afternoon activity, and it wasn’t entertaining to you or Arabella in the slightest, however, you did have a very amusing time taking the piss out of all the statues for looking nothing like Ronaldo in the slightest.

It was funny how an entire building dedicated to one person could get so many things about his facial symmetry and harmony wrong.

The only thing that did seem to catch your daughter's attention, was the massive statue of Ronaldo made from chocolate.

“Look at that Bells, all chocolate.” Alfie hummed.

“Yummy.”

“Yeah, but you can’t eat it.”

“Otay. No hungry.” She turned her back on both Alfie and the statue.

“Okay, you’re not hungry anyway, that’s good.” He chuckled as Greg keeled over, watching the two year old walk away from her dad like he meant nothing to her.

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Going back to the house and mucking about by the pool might’ve been the highlight of your trip. Just you, your daughter, your boyfriend, and his mates splashing about and cracking jokes left right and centre.

“Alfie!” You screamed as he jumped in right next to you, sending a tidal wave your way.

Greg, for some reason, had brought all the hats he’d acquired down, and was swapping between wearing them all in the pool.

Arabella was sitting on the side, her little legs dangling into the water, feet swaying back and forth as she watched you with a smile.

Chip was reclined back on a sun bed, still wearing his entire outfit (shoes included) and blowing into the air holes of her armbands, filling them up so she could put them on and go for a swim.

“Arab, here!” He exclaimed once they were done.

She toddled over to him, cautious of the wet decking around her and let him slide the rings onto her arm.

And then she was in; swimming around her dad, clambering up his torso and splashing you.

“Under!” She begged.

“No, you can’t. It’s not safe.” Alfie shook his head.

With a huff, she turned her back on her dad in the water, but still let him hold onto her.

“Hold onto my arm, here.” He patted his forearm.

Once she was latched on, he held his arm out and spun around, making her squeal in joy at the water coating her face.

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The time spent by the pool was brief, because Chip had other plans of going to see a statue designated to Jesus.

The skies had cleared up by the time you reached the monument, and a few jokes about God being the reason why were passed between your group.

You’d wrapped your hand around the meat of Alfie’s bicep, vlogging for him as he held Arabella in his other arm. Her legs were far too tired from all the kicking and swimming, and she was adamant about being carried for the rest of the day.

If anything, this trip had taught you that maybe paying the extra fee on a plane for a pushchair is worth it, and you’ll definitely be doing so next time you go away, because although Alfie had no issues hauling his daughter around all day, it did feel a little unfair to you that he didn’t have full mobility.

Unfortunately, all the boys were still super gassy, and Chip began chuckling loudly after an audible fart.

“You can’t fart on Jesus, bro.” Greg groaned.

“Wait, did you just emote on him?” Alfie chuckled, “Ah, so much of this is gonna be a toss up of who—“ He waved his hands up and down in a motion that had Arabella giggling, “Oh yeah, six sevennn.”

She cackled loudly, repeating the action.

“Your baby’s brainrotted, bro. Two years old and doing 67. Cooked.” Chip tutted, shaking his head.

You spent a few minutes taking photos, laughing as Chip did some rather questionable poses while Greg held his phone.

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The wind was mental, and you weren’t even properly on the coast.

You were stood on a hilly section as Chip and Frampton went back and forth about which Star Wars scene was filmed here, and whether it was actually here, or on a separate island just off the coast.

“Mummy, cold.” Arabella tugged on the sleeve of your shirt.

“I know, it is chilly, isn’t it?”

One look at Alfie and he was making a trip to the car and back, returning with a little blue GAP hoodie, zipping it up at her front so she was warm enough to still stand there as Chip got some content for his video.

You did end up making your way further to the edge of the hill, so much so that you could taste the salt in the air from the ocean.

Greg had snuck Arabella the KitKat he’d bought her yesterday, and she was currently sitting amongst the grass, breaking it up herself and making her way through it.

“Bella, wanna get a picture with mummy?” You cooed, sitting next to her and pulling out your phone.

She grinned at the camera as you snapped a few photos before putting it away and staying in your position on the grass, enjoying the view from the floor. It was also good to rest your feet for a little while.

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For dinner, everyone had relied on Alfie finding a good spot, and judging by the looks of things on the menus, he hadn’t done too bad. There were some good pasta options for Arabella and yourself, and the boys were most definitely eyeing up all the meaty options.

Frampton ordered a pizza, Chip a chicken parm, Greg some bolognese (matching with Arabella) and Alfie was sharing a large pizza with you.

The food was very good, and you were very pleased with Alfie’s decision.

Despite having a good meal, once you were all back at the house, your boyfriend was stuffing his face with dry cereal on a sun lounger hole while Greg splashed about in the pool again.

“Despite not doing much stuff, and it’s all been a little bit weird, I’ve had the best time of my life.” He said, leaning on the decking to talk.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, on that note, we say goodbye to Madeira, and we say goodbye to you.” Chip spoke to the camera.

“Bye!” Arabella yelled obnoxiously while throwing one of her barbie dolls in pool.

“Yeah, she’s far too hyper, I’m not happy.” Alfie shook his head, watching his daughter mess about.

“It’s gonna be awful putting her to bed.” You commented.

“Oh, don’t even!” He groaned, throwing his head back, “Bells, do you wanna just go to bed now?” He tried, despite knowing it wouldn’t even remotely work.

“No!”

“Okay, over and out!” Chip exclaimed, smothering the camera with his mouth.

[clarkeyskissco]

cutest thing I’ve ever read arabella u are so loved

[clarkeyskissco]

NSFW alphabet - a.buttle ⋆°❀.ೃ࿔⋆

an: sorry the photo is so large idk how to make it thinner :( hope you all enjoy the mr buttle instalment!! he’s my baby girl but also I’m not sure I captured his essence very well :,)

content warnings: established relationship, oral (f and m receiving), overstimulation, somnophilia, dumbification, slapping, choking, size kink, outdoor sex/exhibitionism, dubcon and primal play (specifically in the wildcard section x), mean!alfie, lots of cum and use of daddy

⋆°❀.ೃ࿔⋆

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

That big softie. He’s very rough in bed, and despite knowing you love it, he does get extra soft and sweet after sex. He’ll clean you up, make sure you’re wrapped in one of his big oversized jumpers and tucked into the crook of his neck

“Y’good, darlin’? Know I went a bit far but you always do so well for me.”

He’ll press little kisses onto your hairline and talk to you until you fall asleep

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body part of himself is without a doubt his arms - they’re big and manly, veiny and tattooed. When he has you pinned beneath him, bicep curled round your neck choking you as he fucks you into oblivion, it really gets him going. He also knows the effect they have on you; he sees you staring when he wears a compression shirt, or has a pump from the gym, he knows the effect his veins and biceps have on you and he uses it to his advantage. When you’re together he’ll wear his tightest shirts and make sure he stretches/flexes in your eye-line, peppering in a few grunts as he lifts things, and he knows you’re going to be putty in his hands

on you? how is he meant to choose a favourite between the girls (your tits) and your ass??? wether your tits are bouncing on your chest in missionary, perfectly placed for him to lean down and graze your nipples into his mouth with a cheeky pinch from his little fangs or your ass is clapping against his thighs as you fuck back onto his dick in doggy??? Gun to his head he couldn’t pick a favourite

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man is a big fan of visuals when it comes to his cum ;

landing in ropes all over your face and dripping down from your chin as you catch it on your hands and suck it off your fingers

Or when you stick your tongue out post blowjob waiting for him to spit in your mouth and it’s coating the inside,

or running out of your pussy as he spreads your lips post breeding you, examining your hole and breathing deeply at the combination of your slick and his cum gushing out of you every time you shiver and clench

just anything that marks you as his, he loves seeing you all slutty and content, coated in cum

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

And what if I said he’s a toe sucker?

Feet dangling either side of his head, with a classic French gel polish on each one of your toes what’s he meant to do?? Not put them in his mouth???

He really really enjoys being hurt - he’s always slapping you about and pulling your hair, but when you dig your acrylics into his back and leave long red welts that hiss when he showers or pull sharply at his curls, it makes him whimper - hearing Alfie whimper for the first time set your heat on fire, he’s such a big dominant man that the soft little keening sounds were completely foreign to you both

E = Experience (how experienced are they?)

Before you got together, Alfie was bigging himself up being a lad and swore up and down to all his mates in the warehouse that he was a top shagger - however after he fumbled to get your bra off and went a littleeee bit too teeth heavy the first time he ate you out, you came to learn that he’d only been with a couple girls before you

So you learned together! and now everything he knows about sex he’s learned from watching you react to his actions, so he’s quite literally a sex god but exclusively just for you x

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He cannot decide between mating press and doggy style

Mating press - he has you pinned beneath him, biceps either side of your head and caging you in, growling in your ear and spitting in your open mouth, his hips pistoning you open and nudging your gspot with every thrust,

Doggy style - this lets him tease you, he’ll pull out, leaving just his tip heavy inside of you, waiting for you to get needy and wiggle your hips backward, before he grips the flesh of your hips and bottoms out inside of you - doggy style lets him see your ass jiggle as it bounces against him, as well as play with the taut ring of muscle above your pussy and shush you when you mewl

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

This man isn’t giggling. He is 100% serious, he does not play about fucking - you start giggling at him??? get ready to be slapped round the face

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Alfie has a bit of a bush - there is no chance that man is shaved to the bone, not saying it’s a gross amount of bush, but he definitely has a bush

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It really depends on the type of sex you’re having - if it’s sleepy morning sex or drunk end of the night sex, he’ll be slow and careful with you, babying you and pumping into you with deep languid thrusts

However. If it is angry or jealous sex (it often is with that possessive little man) he does not care about tenderness, and he’ll fuck you hard and fast, and overstimulate you within an inch of your life

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Gooner. This man will jerk off morning noon and night, he lives for the feeling of making himself cum. If you’re at work - he’s jacking off to the videos he’s recorded of you bouncing on his cock, with a dirty pair of your panties stuffed in his spare hand. If you’re asleep next to him and he doesn’t feel like waking you, he’ll jerk off to the sound of you breathing and the smell of your hair, looking at your panties peaking out from the bottom of your (his) tshirt - pulling it up above your ass so he can cum all over your backside, painting white ropes of cum over your sleeping body before pulling the shirt back down. He is a big fan of mutual masturbation - watching you try and stuff yourself on your own fingers, grinding your clit into the heel of your hand whilst he languidly strokes himself counting down the seconds before you cry out for him, saying your fingers never feel as good as his and he gets to make you fall apart around him

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation is a big big one for him, after learning how to fuck you properly, he wants to do it over and over again until you’ve fallen apart beneath him, crying and choking on your own breath as you try and close your legs, but his heavy hands pin you open

This man goes crazy for dumbification - it mixes in with the overstimulation, when you’re staring up at him with teary, spaced out eyes and a wobbly pout after he’s worked you up with his fingers over and over

“what do you want, princess, eh? Y’want me to stop?” And when you shake your head no, reaching out grabby hands for his face he chuckles down at you, “Stupid little thing needs daddy to do everything, don’t you?”

He likes getting rough with you, choking you til stars fuzz the corners of your vision whilst he has you in prone bone, or pulling you by your hair to the end of the bed to fling you infront of the mirror, and giving you a slap on the cheek when you’re being bratty

Absolutely loves being called daddy - more so when he’s feeling possessive or if something has made him jealous, he’ll remind you of your place and that he owns you

“my fuckin pussy, yeah? Who does it belong to, cos it’s not fuckin you, dirty slut, flirting at the pub, forgot you’re just daddy’s little hole.”

his one kink that transcends all others is his size kink - even just holding your hand in his or standing behind you in a queue holding the small of your back makes his cock get heavy, he’s just obsessed with how much he overpowers you and he can pin you beneath him with one hand, or cage you in by literally just wrapping one arm around you, seeing you pinned beneath him completely swarmed by his large muscular body makes him reach his peak quicker than he cares to admit

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Outside. He’s obsessed with fucking you outdoors - when you lived in the grotto he fucked you all over that forest, scraping your back against a tree as he rammed into you, holding you up in his arms. He would also cockwarm with you as you bobbed up and down in the stream, you clinging to him like a koala as he clenched and twitched his dick in your guts, stroking your back and humming into your ear

“dirty girl for me, eh? Cant do anything without needing my cock in you.”

Big fan of fucking in the defender too - having you bounce on his cock in the backseat, fogging up the tinted windows as your tits bounce in his face, crying out as his thumb circles quick around your clit, making you gush all over his seats (depending on his mood he may grab you by the scruff of your neck and push your face down into your own mess, before fucking you in doggy - “fuckin hell - stupid whore making a mess of my car, lick it up for me, yeah?”)

Also a big fan of fingering you on long drives, he’ll reach over the console and make you pull your panties down, before playing with your pussy, rubbing circles over your clit, dipping down into your clenching hole - he lives for doing this when you are stuck in traffic or stopped at a red light, toying with you whilst surrounded by potential spectators

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He is willing to fuck you in any state you’re in, unbrushed hair and teeth in the morning or day three of your period - if you give him a little smile he’s already at half mast, there’s pretty much nothing you could do that wouldn’t want to make him fuck you

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that involves his butthole is not gonna happen I’m afraid - he does not want anything anywhere near it

Alfie would NOT be down for sharing you, any kind of threesome with another guy is completely off the table - he’s so possessive over you, if he’s in a certain mood even seeing you hug his friends when you’re saying hello makes his jaw twitch (that is not to say he’d say no to you having a threesome with another girl, even tho it would never happen, you’re far too much of a crybaby to see another girl kiss Alfie and be able to continue)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

that man wants SLOPS! he wants it all day everyday, he definitely prefers receiving, something about having you on your knees bobbing up and down on his length, small hand working the base you can’t fit in your throat, spit dribbling down your chin and mascara leaving tracks down your cheeks. It’s his favourite sight in the world, especially when you start humping his leg like a desperate little puppy - he has so many videos and photos of you on your knees for him (his personal favourite being the Polaroid he keeps in his cap that serves him well for his post-gym shower goon x)

Despite preferring receiving head, he doesn’t PLAYY about eating you out - he goes mad for the box. Spitting on your pussy and slapping your clit, he works you up to the edge over and over again until you’re a desperate babbling mess above him. He’ll use one of his big arms to pin your hips to the bed, whilst he pumps two of his thick fingers over and over inside of you, massaging the spongy spot inside of you that makes you fall apart. When Alfie eats you out he won’t stop until you’ve cum all over his face atleast three times and you’re keening away from his mouth in overstimulated bliss

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This mirrors how intimate he’s feeling - it’s usually fast rough and hard with Alfie, drilling away at your cunt with precision, attacking your gspot and bringing you to the edge of orgasm with his skilled hands and heavy cock, but if he’s sleepy or fucking you in the shower in the morning he’ll take his time, admiring your body and peppering you with kisses, delivering deep slow thrusts that make your breath short with every movement

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Alf LOVES a quickie - any excuse to fuck you he will take it even if it means rushing. When he sees you all dressed up for some random influencer party you’ve been invited to, already running late, you cannot leave the apartment until he’s bent you over in front of the mirror and fucked the life out of you

“Look at yourself, darlin’. So fuckin pretty for me, god, so tight too. All mine, yeah?”

And as you nod desperately, panting and moaning from his thrusts and the tight circles he’s rubbing on your clit, he grins at you in the mirror, little fangs catching the light

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s a bit more anxious to be risky after your move to london - sex outside in the grotto or in the defender was a lot easier when surrounded by woodlands and not a capital city

Something he has realised he fucking loves however is fucking you against the windows in his apartment - he gets to see your face mushed into the glass and breath fogging the window as you pant and moan, while nobody can tell who you are, it still provides the thrill of fucking in public without the risk of being exposed

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He talks a big game, but he doesn’t have good cardio skills, bless x

He’ll last a few solid rounds, pushing through the overstimulation buzzing in his cock because he loves to see you fall apart beneath him, and to see you coated in his cum - but even if it’s only one round of actual sex you never go unsatisfied

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I cannot see this man having a lot of toys - maybe he’ll use one of your own vibrators to teases you with, but he’s definitely a massive fan of a butt plug - when he flips you over and catches sight of the pink heart shaped gem nestled between the fat of your ass cheeks it makes his dick twinge and stomach knot

He also prefers to use his own belt or even just his hands to restrain you - he’s very primal when it comes to expressing his dominant side, he doesn’t want you restrained by shop bought rope, he wants to be able to feel his own strength restraining you. When you fight with all your strength against one hand pinning yours above your head, it makes Alfie go dizzy with lust - he loves the silent acknowledgment that he is in complete control of you and could do anything anytime

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

the day this man stops teasing you will be the day he dies

he will overstimulate you on his tongue over and over again, with slow kitten licks over you clit and trembling hole, breathing cold air over your hot skin until you’re gushing all over his face and dripping down his chin, making you squirm around his fingers all whilst you beg and writhe for something you’re not even sure of yourself

“y’gonna cum, princess? yeah you wanna cum all over my face?”

“y-yes please, Alf, I’m so close.” you’d beg, head foggy and body throbbing, his touch bringing you to the precipice painstakingly slowly

with a chaste kiss to your clit and a cheeky grin flashing on his face, his mouth leaves your cunt, making you choke on a trembling breath

“y’gotta earn it first, on your knees for me.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Holy yapper - this man is going to be talking and groaning and grunting the whole time. He’s not a big moaner, but he just doesn’t shut up - he’s groaning into the crook of your neck about how good you feel wrapped around him, grunting as he bottoms out and starts pounding into you from behind, talking to you whilst you’re blowing him

“Mhm, just like that, angel - you gonna let me fuck your throat or nah? be a good girl and give me what I want.”

Just big and loud x

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Alfie is big into primal play.

Parking the defender suddenly on a dirt track, surrounded by trees and thick woodlands. It’s sunset and you are probably the only two people for miles. You look at him with confusion as he reaches over, unplugs your seat belt and swings open your door. With a stony face and darkened eyes, Alfie nods to the forest.

“Go on. Run.”

“Alf - cmon stop being silly.” You laugh slightly to try and ease some of your uncomfortableness, reaching out of the car to shut the door. You hit the floor almost instantly after feeling Alfie’s big hands on your back.

You scramble up onto your feet with stinging hands and knees, tears pooled in your eyes

“What the fuck, Alfie! That was so mean, what are you doing?”

His face has darkened.

“Do what I say, and fuckin run.”

With a wobbly chin and shaky legs, you turn on your heels and start stumbling through the bushes.

“That’s not running, is it, you fucking idiot.” He calls behind you.

Sniffling, your feet pick up the pace and carry you further into the forest, away from the car. It’s getting dark quickly, and nettles are catching at your bare legs. That’s when you hear the car door slam and big footsteps gaining on you. You will yourself forward, heart caught in your throat as you hear Alfie almost directly behind you.

A scream leaves your throat without meaning to - and you keep running until your legs catch on a thick tree root you overlooked in your panic. Falling onto the damp and mossy forest floor makes you cry out, there’s dirt under your nails now and muck on your pretty white sun dress. After stumbling to your feet you keep going, unease washing over you as you realise you can’t hear him. Your legs keep moving until suddenly a pair of strong arms rip you sideways and throw you to the floor.

Alfie is above you, crowding your face as his large body pins you to the moist forest floor. He’s panting hot breath onto your face.

“Cant run fast enough, can you, angel. Thought you could get away from me.”

Tears are leaking down your temples as you choke back little sobs - you can feel him undoing his trousers. He moves a hand between your legs, pulling the gusset of your panties to the side and chuckling lowly when he finds the wetness looking there.

“Pretending y’aren’t enjoying this. You fucking take it, yeah? You’re not good for much else.”

He bottoms out inside of you, thrusting his full fat cock deep into you, making you cry out into the darkness, legs trying to snap closed. His large body prevents you from pushing him away, and his hips rut desperately into you.

“Good fuckin girl. Just a wet little hole for me.” He mutters into your ear, leaning down and licking the tears off of your cheeks and laughing when your sobs deepen. There’s mud in your hair and all over your back, and Alfie’s cock is burning your tight hole - you rarely take him unprepped. He finishes quicker than usual - groaning into the crook of your neck as his hips twitch and the thatch of hair above his cock grinds against your neglected clit. He pulls out and tucks himself away, before pulling your panties completely off and admiring the state he’s out you in. You continue crying, watching him pocket your underwear, as cum pools out of your pussy. He turns the flash on his phone to inspect your dripping cunt, playing with it slightly as he does - brushing your clit and spreading his cum through your folds, he leans down to kiss your heat.

“Y’so good f’me, angel, how about I get you home and eat this pussy ‘til you pass out, eh? Can keep going whilst you sleep if y’like.”

After your small nod, he bundles you into his arms, resting you on his hip as he carries you back to the car. He circles your clit and makes you sigh into his shoulder as he does so.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

HORSE! genuinely talking 9 1/2 inches, he’s thick as fuck too, it matches his body and hangs like a third leg, he curves slightly to the left

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Always on fucking max. He wants to fuck every single second of the day. There is no inappropriate time to try and fuck you in Alfie’s head. He will see you bent over looking in his barren fridge, and rub his bulge over your cunt, hands heavy on your hips. You could just be doing your makeup in the morning, and he’ll have his head in the crook of your neck nibbling your earlobe.

“Why y’getting all pretty when you know I’m gonna ruin it, eh? Or do you just want daddy to make you all messy, girl?”

You’re at dinner with your mutual friends? Well Alfie is sliding your knickers to the side and toying with your folds as he talks casually, completely ignoring the way your face is heating up and your words are becoming jumbled.

Or god forbid you’re just trying to get some sleep. Alfie’s big warm hands will roll you into your stomach, him shushing you and stroking your hair when you twitch, (“shhh, angel, daddy’s just making sure you’re okay, go back to sleep f’me.”) before he bottoms out inside of your sleepy cunt, just warming himself there for a few minutes before shallowly thrusting in and out of you, staring at your sleeping body

If there’s a day on your flo app that doesn’t have a little heart marking you as having gotten fucked, Alfie feels like he’s failed x

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty much immediately - he’s a sleepy guy, so after a few rounds of rearranging your guts and painting you with his cum, he doesn’t have the strength to stay up. He may doomscroll with you for a bit, but ultimately he very quickly passes out, arms heavy where they’re wrapped around you, holding you as close as humanly possible

⋆°❀.ೃ࿔⋆

[wroetosnoopy]

HIS LITTLE GROANS AND BREATHY WHIMPERS FUCKKK 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[clarkeyskissco]

BE A GOOD GIRL - g.clarke⋆°❀.ೃ࿔⋆

an: hello! this is genuinely filthy! it is purely because of that freaked out fragrantica trend on tiktok 😪 I know this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea so sorry xx this is also older!george, not explicitly stated but I’d say he’s in his 40s/50s x

summary: you’ve been having weird feelings in your ‘tummy’ about the family doctor, when you go to him for an exam you get alllll the treatment you need from him 😋

content warnings: dumbification, manipulation, dr Clarke is a very corrupt doctor, he knew reader as a child but she is very explicitly 21(!), MDNI!, some slight hints of dubcon?, reader is a Virgin, innocence/corruption kink, lots of spit and bodily fluids, power dynamics

⋆°❀.ೃ࿔⋆

You’d been seeing Dr Clarke for years - he was a university friend of your father’s and a frequent guest of your parents dinner parties. As a little girl he would humour you with a smile and a pat on the head, as a teenager this continued into patronising taps on your cheek, the grin on Dr Clarke’s face spurred on by you rolling your eyes.

He’d been your doctor when you got chicken pox, given you your vaccinations in year 8 and treated you for sunstroke after your first festival post sixth form. He treated you with a smile and a condescending shake of his head at you always winding back up in his care. Your mother would come to his office with you, fretting over your shoulder and answering his questions before you could. Gentle and kind as he stroked your hand, or offered you a tissue for any tears - Dr Clarke may have been a bit patriarchal in how he treated you, but he knew how to make you feel better.

“Open wide and take your medicine darling, be a good girl for Dr Clarke.” Your mother’s voice would chide from the blue chair in the corner of his office, and with a huff you would comply.

“Well done, Reader, would you like a lollipop? I have those strawberry ones you like.” He would offer, pulling off his blue gloves and reaching for the tub you knew he kept in his desk drawer. You’d nod eagerly as a little girl, and even as a teenager you’d nod with a half smile and take the pink lollipops he bought especially for you.

But now, as a grown woman of 21 and after a letter inviting you to your first cervical screening, you decided your mum probably didn’t need to come and see Dr Clarke with you.

You’d known him all your life and the idea of him seeing your body so intimately made anxiety settle in the pit of your stomach. He’d be the first man to ever come that close to that part of you between your legs you neglected. You’d never been able to touch yourself properly, and had only attempted a few shy touches before embarrassment and shame crept into your brain. You shut off the sexual part of your mind and focused on everything else; you can’t have expected to be missing much, you wrinkled your nose when your friends discussed what their boyfriends were like in bed and resounded that you were better off without it. But since you got that letter from the desk of Doctor George Clarke inviting you for an exam that would also be the most intimate thing you’d ever experienced, your body began reacting strangely.

Heavy knots formed in your stomach, low down and greedy. They made you think self consciously about what Dr Clarke would look like between your legs, before you snapped that though out of your head with red cheeks and a shameful look around you, as if everyone else could hear what your mind was telling you. You resided to ignore your brain and focus on your health - the knots in your stomach must be a medical problem, you’d had no inclination for sex before, and at least you could trust Dr Clarke with your problem.

And so you sat in the waiting room, everything around you feeling familiar and foreign. Head held high and fake confidence plastered on your face, you couldn’t shake that it would feel different being alone with him. It was odd - the anxiety in your stomach stewing lower than usual, forming knots that made you shift uncomfortably. Shaking your head, you reminded yourself it was just Dr Clarke - the man you’d known all your life.

“Reader? Dr Clarke is ready for you now.”

It was a different receptionist than usual, but you stood up with a tight smile and walked to the door you could have recognised in the dark. Your heart was in your throat, anxiety and that strange feeling bubbling up in your stomach. With slightly sweaty hands, you turned the knob and entered his office. He was sat at his desk, his hair salt and peppered and smile lines deeper in his face. He looked older than when you’d last seen him, but it suited him. His office smelled clean and familiar.

“Hello, darling! I haven’t seen you in ages! How are you feeling ahead of your appointment today?” His deep voice sent the feelings of anxiety again, with an unfamiliar pang even lower in your abdomen. The unfamiliarity of the warmth in your stomach was concerning you, and making the back of your thighs sweat uncomfortably.

“I’m okay.” You replied sheepishly, taking a seat.

He continued his small talk, asking you the necessary questions - height, weight, any new medications, any new medical concerns. Telling him about your recent unfamiliar feelings in your tummy was on the tip of your tongue, but as heat boiled into your face you just primly shook your head no.

“Alright then, if you want to pop behind the curtain and change into your gown, we can get you ready for your exam, poppet.”

The feeling was attacking your every nerve. As you stood behind the paper curtain unbuttoning your shirt and jeans, pulling down your underwear and folding them into a neat pile, you felt damp between your legs. The paper gown peaked at your breasts, where your nipples had hardened in the cold of his office, the rough scrape of the fabric against them unfamiliar. You shivered, shifting from foot to foot. With a deep inhale, you stepped back round the curtain.

Standing there in a paper gown, you felt like a child again, with unexplainable pain and feelings you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I’m ready.” You quietly announced, causing Dr Clarke to turn around. That all too familiar smile was plastered on his face, and he had put his coat on over his shirt and tie.

“Get up on the bed please, darling, feet up in the stirrups. You can use the paper sheet for your modesty.”

The bed crinkled under your weight as you shifted yourself up. Feet coyly finding their place in the stirrups, you were more exposed than you had ever been before. Despite the paper you had hurriedly placed across your lap, that strange wetness was amplified by the cold chill of air that crept its way between your legs. An odd noise caught in your throat.

Dr Clarke quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Everything okay, poppet? You can tell me if anything’s uncomfortable.”

The sincerity of his tone was so familiar, so comforting, it made the words fly out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“It hurts, Doctor.”

“What hurts, reader?”

The air was thick. Dr Clarke stood at the end of the bed, the only thing blocking him from your problem being a sheet of paper. You didn’t notice his knuckles whiten around his clipboard, or the slight dilation of his pupils.

“It-it hurts..down there.” Your entire body was on fire, and the throbbing between your legs was powerful in a way you’d never experienced before.

“How long has it felt like this, reader?” His deep voice was laced with concern.

“Since I got the letter saying you’d be doing my exam.” Your voice came out quiet and shy, almost lost underneath the sound of Dr Clarke’s increasingly deeper breaths.

He cleared his throat, knuckles tightening around his clipboard, scanning it intensely.

“You’re going to have to have a more thorough examination. I think there’s something seriously wrong with you, darling.” His grave tone and intense eye contact made tears spring to your waterline.

He rubbed his gloved hand over yours comfortingly, as your chin wobbled and your mind raced with thoughts of dying because of the heat between your legs.

“Don’t cry, poppet, I’ll take care of you, you know I always do.”

The anxiety subsided slightly, his familiar soothing tone comforting you.

“First things first, I’m going to have to examine your throat, okay?”

You nodded quickly as he moved up the bed. You gulped slightly as your mouth pooled with saliva, Dr Clarke moving to the head of the bed. He began by prodding your pulse with two fingers, focus painted on his face as his eyebrows knitted together.

He brought two of his gloved fingers up to your mouth, and you had to close your eyes, the proximity of his face to yours was too much to handle. You inhaled deeply, breathing in the clean and woody scent of him.

“Open wide.”

Your lips parted and Dr Clarke’s fingers slowly entered your mouth. The powdery texture was foreign on your tongue, and his fingers dug into your chin to keep you steady. His fingers went deeper and deeper across your tongue until you gagged around them. He didn’t stop, beginning to push them back and forth against your gag reflex, saliva beginning to pool in the corners of your mouth. You opened your eyes desperately, spluttering against the intrusion of his fingers in your throat. Confusion rose in your mind and concern bubbled in your chest, this was unlike anything Dr Clarke had ever done to you before and it had done nothing to ease the throb down below.

The professional expression on his face soothed your confusion. Little ‘hmms’ were leaving his throat as he changed the pace of his fingers, assessing your responses to the slow and deep movements in comparison to his faster assault on your throat.

How could you forget for a moment that this was Dr Clarke?

You relaxed into his ministrations, your throat loosening around his fingers as you got used to the thrusts. Spit was pooling on his fingers and out of your mouth. You were making little gurgling sounds around him.

“Hm. Exactly as I thought, can you suck my fingers please, reader? I need to assess the strength of your lips.”

Wrapping your plush lips around his fingers felt foreign, but you sucked them deeper into your mouth, cheeks hollowed and eyes batting up at Dr Clarke, examining his face for praise at your actions.

You swear you saw him shudder.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth with a lewd pop. He turned away from you, gripping his clipboard and scribbling something down rapidly. The tent in his trousers was straining desperately.

“Okay, poppet, untie your gown and place it below your breasts please.” Dr Clarke’s kind but authoritative tone was familiar. The command had made you shiver all the way down to your aching thighs, and had allowed for mist to form in your brain.

With shaky hands, you undid the ties at the back of your neck, taking your arms out of the gown and shuddering as the cold office air came in direct contact with your breasts. They heaved as you panted, nipples pert and erect.

“I’ve done it.” Dr Clarke turned around, and swallowed thickly.

He approached the bed again, and began by pressing down on the tissue surrounding your breasts. This felt professional. His fingers then moved to your nipples, he began rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. Your sharp inhale led him to nodding, his drawn eyebrows smoothing out the concerned thoughts in your head.

“Your breasts are responding well, do you ever touch them?”

Heat rose in your cheeks at the sudden personal question - though his expression remained neutral.

“Um-m, I’m not sure, I guess I don’t really ever touch them.”

He continued rolling your nipples between his fingers, pinching one and drawing a strangled cry from your throat, back arching off the bed.

“Shh, shh come on, poppet, it’s all part of your exam. A young woman like yourself should be familiar with her body, I think this may be the root cause of your pain. Have you ever explored yourself, down there?”

He used you words against you, colour and heat rising back up into your face. You felt stupid under his gaze, his head cocked in that condescending way. Your chin wobbled again, a pout forming on your lips. Brain foggy and confused, tears began forming in the waterline of your eyes.

“No I haven’t.” Your voice was small and meek. Admitting to never having touched yourself made the knots in your tummy tighten and curl down into your thighs. You squirmed on the bed, becoming aware of the wet paper beneath your thighs.

“Well, darling, that is quite obviously the cause of this. You won’t die, but you’re going to need rigorous treatment. We will have to begin right away, and have repeat appointments. You can never allow yourself to get this bad again, hmm?” His voice was demanding, and laced with something that told you you weren’t allowed to disagree. A small nod was all Dr Clarke needed to remove his hands from your breasts and sit on the stool between your legs. Whining at the lack of contact, your squirming continued, legs clattering the stirrups.

“Reader. Behave or I may have to sedate you before we can continue.” Dr Clarke’s stern warning was unfamiliar, as well as the stony expression painted over his face. The seriousness of your illness allowed rationality to take over the fuzzy parts of your brain.

“I’m sorry, doctor. I’ll behave, I promise.” You keened for him to smile at you again, and resume touching your breasts in the way that had made your brain switch off. You were unaware of the effect of your words on him. His erection twitched as it strained against his tight dress pants. Sweat beaded on his forehead, as your hot cunt lay before him behind a sheet of paper. Laying there with your hair spread around your head like a halo and breasts heaving in the white clinical light, Dr Clarke believed your innocence, and his fingers twitched with excitement at being the one to ruin it.

The paper was drawn back in on quick motion. Your hot cunt was exposed to the air in the room, it glistened in the artificial light of the room. Your gown had become bunched up around your trembling thighs. Dr Clarke observed as your cunt clenched around nothing, the little curls on your pubic bone damp in the light. His heart clenched. Most of his female patients shaved for him. Not you, you were too naive to think that body hair would even be involved in the act of seduction. You hadn’t had to change yourself at all.

Dr Clarke took a deep breath and rearranged himself on his chair. He reached up and switched on the overhead lamp, bringing it so it hovered over his shoulder, perfectly illuminating the dampness of your folds. Your wetness had spread down your thighs and turned the paper between them dark.

“I’m going to start by spreading you open, okay?”

You had no idea what that meant, and your brain was thick with fog because of his proximity to the root cause of all this. Two of his nitrile clad fingers spread the outer folds of your cunt, an exposed your hard clit to him. You whined, even the slightest hint of stimulation stirring the knots in your tummy.

“Is this the part that aches, sweetheart?” His tone was gravelled and low. His eyes didn’t move from between your legs.

“Mhm.” You sighed, bucking your hips up as he continued to not touch you. You were spread open for him but there was nothing happening.

The sudden intrusion of a finger into your tight, untouched hole made you howl. Your hips bucked up the bed, trying to get away from the painful feeling.

“S-stop it! That hurts.”

Dr Clarke hooked the finger that was inside of you, massaging your spongy walls. But the stretch was too much and you continued to whine.

“Dr Clarke, stop it, please, I don’t like it.”

He removed his finger with a sharp sigh, a scowl forming on his face that was completely unfamiliar to you. He leaned over you on the bed, until his face was inches from yours.

“Do you want to get better or not?” He asked bluntly, a little bit of spit landing on your face as he asked. You swallowed thickly.

“Yes, but-“

He gripped your face in his hand, pulling you off the bed so your noses were brushing. His fingertips dug sharply into your cheeks.

“Shut up. Stop acting like a stupid little girl and let me make you better.”

He all but spat at you. Dr Clarke had never been so angry with you - tears welled in your eyes as slick pooled in your cunt.

“I’m sorry, Dr Clarke, I want to be a good girl, I want you to make me better.”

He smiled down at you condescendingly, using the the hand that was gripping your face to tap your cheek twice.

“Now there’s a good girl. I think I need to give you something to keep you quiet, eh? I don’t have any lollipops in, unfortunately. Though, if you’re a really, really big girl you can have something else.” You sat up from the table desperately. All you wanted was to feel him between your legs, you were willing to do anything.

“Please, I’ll take anything you give me, I just want to get better.”

The grin on his face widened. He rounded the bed, standing where you were sat up. He removed his coat, and as you were eye level with his crotch you noticed something straining against the material. Raising your eyebrows at him expectantly, he chuckled and began undoing his belt.

“You don’t use that thing between your ears for much, do you poppet? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what I want.”

Wracking your brain, you couldn’t figure out what he wanted. You didn’t understand why he was undoing the zip in his trousers, working his boxers down and unleashing something that was wholly unfamiliar.

It was pinkish, and long. A vein ran directly up the middle of it, to the harsh red tip that was leaking. It was surrounded by a nest of thick curls, similar to the ones between your own legs, though you didn’t have a large, heaving sack between yours that twitched the longer you stared.

“Do you have any idea what you’re looking at, poppet?”

You weren’t that stupid. You’d seen the anatomy posters in his waiting room before. It had a naked man and a naked woman. Though the pale little thing between that man’s legs that you’d giggle at as a child had very little in common with the beast between Dr Clarke’s.

“It’s your penis.” You had tried to say it matter-of-factly, but you sounded small and foolish.

“Well done, sweetheart! That’s correct!” His tone was laced with false praise, though it made you squirm all the same. He had begun tugging at his cock, rolling it in his fist with the expert hands you were longing to experience yourself.

“Now, can you be a good little girl and do what we practiced with your mouth on my penis until I finish examining you? Its a very special treat, okay?” His words turned your brain to jelly, nodding rapidly and reaching forwards, forgetting about your legs in the stirrups. You whined exasperatedly, before Dr Clarke tutted at you and expertly rearranged you to be further down the bed, your heat in the air and mouth beneath his heavy cock.

He tapped your lips.

“Open wide for me, say ah!”

You opened your mouth and in one thrust, Dr Clarke’s thick cock was ramming against the back of your throat, muffling your splutter of surprise. He found a rhythm for fucking your throat, his cock slipping in the velvety walls of your mouth, the salty taste of his skin imprinting on your tongue.

Continuing to thrust his hips, he observed your pussy once again. The neglect having built up into a creamy pool of mess dripping from your folds. Your head was spinning as you focused on not gagging, and Dr Clarke’s first brush of your clit almost short circuited your brain. Your garbled moan around him made him shudder. He drew small circles around your clit, listening to your desperate panting worsen around his length.

“Mhm, good girl, let me make you better. We’re going to try that again and you’re going to behave now you’ve got your big girl treat, yeah?”

You muffled a yes, through spit, as your nose tickled the thatch of hair at the base of his cock.

Dr Clarke slowly plunged two of his gloved fingers into your creamy opening, stretching the skin surrounding it. You whined and bucked, but his free hand came down to hold you against his crotch, length down your throat, forcing you to gag and wretch against him. He pumped his two fingers in and out of your tight hole with complete fascination, watching as his gloves developed a creamy pink ring around the base of his fingers. His hips bucked and shuddered into your mouth, his breath shaking as his eyes watched your pussy swallow his fingers, unwillingly at first, but greedily as your whines turned from agitated to blissful. He could feel your walls clenching and sucking him back in, watching the way your tummy jumped in excitement when he curled his fingers just right.

“Now there’s a good girl, you weren’t being bad, you just needed a distraction, didn’t you? I should have known! Always such a big fan of my lollipops.”

You let out a wail in response. Your body didn’t feel like it was yours. Your jaw overworked and sore, being pumped raw by Dr Clarke’s thrusts. Your pussy was tender, but aching for every thrust to reach deeper. Your brain was fogged and confused, you were so blissfully happy but floating around in your own head, hoping that your treatment would never end.

Dr Clarke’s thrusts became sloppy, his hips jabbing into your face and his fingers loosing their rhythm, and he pulled away. His fingers left your aching core as his cock slid from your dripping mouth. You let out a loud cry, tears springing from your eyes and rolling in big clumps down your cheeks.

“Not fair! Not fair! I’ve been good and it was helping me!” You cried, practically stomping your feet in the stirrups. Dr Clarke caught your face in his hand again, though his grip was softer.

“Now, now, you were just being so good, did I say this was the end of the session? Did I?” He waited, holding your teary eyes with his, and slowly shaking your head for you. “Exactly. I was just wanting to show you the final stage of your treatment, poppet, now that I’ve worked you open for me.”

He moved down the bed, hands returning to your pussy. He stroked you gently, admiring your sloppy cunt and how quickly you panted when your clit was touched. He grazed slow, enticing circles onto it as he spoke to you.

“This next part is a very special treatment, just for you, poppet, okay? You understand that my methods for making you all better have to stay between us? You’re not gonna go home and tell mummy or daddy what you’ve been doing with me are you?”

His jaw clenched as he saw your pussy flutter around nothing when he spoke the words. He didn’t have to worry about anything. You were in the palm of his hand. He began stroking the head of his cock against your clit, dragging it through your folds, combining your slick with his precum. You were gasping and whining at the feeling, eyes rolling into your head when he tapped his cock against your clit.

“I-I’ll be good for you, Doctor Clarke, I always am.”

He slowly sunk his length into you, inch by inch stretching your virgin heat, shushing you as you cried and moaned. You clung to his strong arms, nails digging into the biceps you’ve always pretended not to notice. You continued to pant sharply as he entered you, releasing a guttural moan when he bottomed out and was buried to the hilt. He let out a low groan at the sight of your tummy bulging with the head of his cock, your body coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

He pressed his palm into your stomach and an electric shock passed through your body, your limbs jolting and burning. You moaned, the overwhelming feelings of everything being new heightened by the pressure on your tummy.

“You feel that, poppet? Me all the way up in your tummy? I’m right at the root of the problem, aren’t I. I’m going to fuck the hurt right out of this silly little pussy, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

You nodded frantically at his words, clawing at his arms as he began low, shallow thrusts, keeping the pressure on your stomach. His free hand rubbed tight circles around your clit, nursing you closer and closer to an unfamiliar place.

“I-I feel weird,” you manage to garble, head as thick as cotton as your body winds up to something you’re not sure of. You gasp and heave up off the bed, back arching as you dangle over this new edge of pleasure. The knots that have been living in your stomach for weeks are so tight you feel as though they will explode.

“You can let go, sweetheart, it’s all part of the treatment.” Dr Clarke pants, his voice thicker and darker than it has ever been before. And with his permission, your body releases, and the knots in your stomach burst into insurmountable pleasure. Your vision goes white as a hoarse scream leaves your throat, your body convulsing on the exam bed.

With a heaving chest and fogged up brain, you whine and wince as the treatment continues. Dr Clarke continues his shallow thrusts, toying in your stomach for knots you can no longer find there. Discomfort and overstimulation swim over your body and you begin to squirm under him. He tuts at you, thought it comes out in short breaths.

“Be a good girl for a little bit longer, I’ve got you, baby, don’t worry your pretty little head.” The new name makes what’s left of your brain melt out of your ears - you become pliant to the discomfort and find pleasure in the sensation of your walls being overworked. Dr Clarke lasts for a few more thrusts, before he pulls out of you in one movement, and he releases all over his hand. He trembles and pants to regain his composure, standing on shaking knees between your legs.

As his cheeks slowly loose their redness, and his eyes meet your sleepy ones, he taps the side of your face with his clean hand. Once he has your attention he holds out his cum soaked hand expectantly.

“Open wide and take your medicine darling, be a good girl for Dr Clarke.”

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[clarkeyskissco]

NSFW alphabet - w.lenney ⋆°❀.ೃ࿔⋆

an: first ever post ! love a bit of lenney x

content warnings: established relationship, MDNI!, slapping, oral (f and m receiving), public sex, fingering, degradation kink, breeding kink, use of daddy

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

It depends on the sex - if you’re in bed or at home, he’ll clean you up and change your clothes, either sitting you on the sofa or tucking you into bed; but if you’re in public the lack of aftercare adds to the thrill, him fucking you recklessly in the toilets of a restaurant only to finish and leave you there shaking with a kiss in the neck is all part of the fun for Will

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his hands - his long fingers and silver rings never fail to rile you up, wether he’s editing a video or simply passing you something, he knows watching the veins flex and rings shine makes heat pool in your tummy

Yours - he is a boob man 100%, he’ll take any chance to be touching them; when you’re sleepy and your tank has slipped down, when you lean up to kiss his cheek or when they’re moisturised after a shower - he loves your boobs! Any excuse to touch them or be between them, and during sex he’s always got a hand pinching your nipples, tugging them or rolling them over his tongue

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Is incredibly partial to a facial, loves how slutty and disoriented you look when he finishes all over your face. Obsessed with smearing it around after, ruining your makeup further before popping his cum coated fingers into your mouth and gagging you on his seed

Also loves cumming inside of you, as his breeding kink is sent through the roof - having you in mating press knowing he’s cumming deep into your guts sends a shiver up his spine

He’s big into cumming into your panties - if he catches you around the house he will push you against the counter, pull open your panties and jerk himself off until he cums all over your pussy, before pulling your underwear back up and patting you, sending you in with your day with his hot cum seeping down your folds

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

before you got together he got his hands on a pair of your used panties whilst away on a trip, he held onto them and for months he would record himself doing cum tributes over photos from your Instagram, panties stuffed beneath his nose, fist pumping wildly on his cock as he painted his laptop screen with his cum

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Fairly experienced and knows what he wants - he’s explored all of his kinks and is eager to test any of yours he’s unfamiliar with, his experience means he has you crumpled into a pile of sweat and tears every time

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Big fan of cowgirl - he gets to see your tits bounce and encourage you to keep going, he knows however that your stamina will falter, meaning he gets to slap you round the face for being a stupid little girl and start pistoning his hips up into yours, he’ll keep his fingers tight around your throat as he fucks up into your gspot, ringed thumb drawing fast circles around your clit

“That’s it pet, let daddy take the lead. You’re just so fucking stupid you can’t do it yourself, eh?”

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not goofy at all - MAYBE will giggle during morning sex if you’re both being clumsy, but will not be down for laughing and joking when you’re fucking - for Will, having sex with you is a lustful and passionate affair and doesn’t have time to mess around

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Definitely keeps it trimmed - hairy but not a bush, well groomed but when he’s travelling and comes back it would definitely be a bit grown out

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s intimate in his own way - the dirty things he says worm their way into your brain and breakdown your stress in a way that only he could do, because he knows the folds of your brain like his own

Intimacy with Will is intense because of how well he knows you and your body, he can read your shaking and your moans exactly

It’s not traditionally intimate but it’s intensely personal

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Again, he’s constantly travelling so he will masturbate quite frequently - either to the videos he’s taken of you sucking him off or to the nudes you’ve sent him since the start of the trip

However when he’s home with you, he doesn’t feel the need - if he gets a boner he will find wherever you are in the apartment and bend you over or push you to your knees and stuff his cock down your throat

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Will Lenney you massive pervert - what kink doesn’t this little freak have

That man is a sadist - he loves fucking you to the point of tears and burning skin, the punishments you receive most are spankings with one of his leather belts or being tied to the bed for hours whilst he’s off on a shoot, with a vibrator tied to you torturously low keeping you dripping at the precipice of orgasm until he comes home, spitting on your cunt before thrusting in in one swoop, head ramming your cervix whilst he uses you

He loves inflicting any kind of pain onto you; choking, slapping you between the legs as you suck him off

Big into breeding you - he wants to fill you up with his cum, pull out and watch your cunt get creamy with the mixture of him and you; he wants to get you pregnant, wants to make you a mummy and see your boobs get round and full

Loves degrading you and mixes in dumbification whilst he’s at it, talking down to you and spitting in your face whilst you’re on your knees pawing at the tent in his trousers

“God you’re fucking desperate, aren’t you? Stupid fucking slut can’t do anything without needing a cock in her throat. Say it, baby, say you can’t do anything without daddy’s cock in your mouth.”

And as you muffle the words around his girth, spit bubbling out the side of your mouth, he’ll chuckle and slap your cheek.

“My stupid fucking cockslut, you stay quiet then, princess, doing what you’re good at.”

He’ll call you his dumb whore as he pounds into you, all the thoughts fallen out of your head so you’re only able to pant his name - seeing you crumble into a pathetic little mess really gets him going

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Genuinely anywhere - whilst obviously fucking you on every surface of your apartment is safer and easier, don’t even try and stop him from fucking you in his office

If you visit him with a smile and a cute skirt, he’s got you sat on his knee with his fingers curling inside of you before you can ask to go to lunch

He’s also very partial to some road head - holding you down by the back of your head, nails digging into your hair as you choke and splutter around his cock

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He loves a low cut top, if he can see any sort of cleavage the curve of your boobs is definitely going to give him a semi

Despite what he says about hating your attitude, if you’re a brat to him and argue back or roll your eyes, his throat will go dry and his stomach will start forming knots, if you’re in public he will either drag you by the hand to a secluded corner, or send you a text

“Behave or you’ll regret it, love, or do you want me to put you over my knee and spank you infront of all my friends?”

And god forbid he sees the twinkle in your eye or clench of your thighs at the thought, because he will consider it

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

To be honest there isn’t much he will say no to; he’s happy to hurt you, for you to hurt him, piss isn’t off the table

But bless him he probably can’t stomach period sex, unless you want him to faint before you can get on top of him

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

That man is an EATER! he is crazy for the box - he will eat you out morning moon and night, it’s his favourite taste

His head between your legs, drawing tight circles around your clit with tongue as two of his fingers curl into the spongy spot inside of you, saliva mixed with slick coating your thighs and his chin - he will eat you like a man starved when he comes home from trips, falling to his knees at the door, inhaling you through your panties and tonguing your clit over them with precise accuracy

For him, he absolutely loves a blow job, seeing your mascara run down your cheeks and spit dribble down your chin as you gag and sob around him is something he could not live without, he wants you between his legs as much as he wants to be between yours (69ing is a dream come true for will, especially as he gets to smack your ass when you get distracted from sucking his cock)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This man is ROUGH! not always fast, he knows that slow thrusts over and over into your gspot will wind the coil in your stomach just as quickly as when he drills into you from behind

Sensual sex with Will is a rare treat, but it’s always worth the wait, when he’s careful and tender, touching you like you’ll break - it’s usually in the mornings or when he’s tired and just wants to feel how warm you are around him whilst he’s still in the space between awake and dreaming

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He is all about the risk and the exhibitionism of fucking you, but he despises having to be quick, he’s a tease and he wants to draw out him fucking you for as long as possible, so despite not enjoying a quickie they do happen quite often as if you really do want to fuck in the club toilets it gets suspicious after 20 minutes

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Always. At the pub? He’ll put you in his lap and have you cockwarming him for the entire night, flexing his dick so it twitches inside of you mid sentence. On a date? Make sure you wear a skirt because either way he’s tracing your clit in the taxi on the way there and back. In the kitchen on the group holiday? Keep your hand over your mouth because Will is pounding into you from behind over the kitchen island, bed head tickling your neck, his head resting on your back as his cum drips onto the floor

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He lasts torturously long - he will make you cum four or five times before he does, his tongue and his fingers working you over the edge before he’s even taken his cock out from straining against his boxers

and because he always gets what he wants, Will wants to have his cake and eat it, so he’ll cum on your face, cum in your guts and cum all over your tits before the night is done

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s not a fan of dildos - why the fuck do you want a silicone version when he’s right there?

A vibrator? He will use them on you as punishment, and allow you to use them when he’s away (as long as you FaceTime him or send him a video of you squirting over it)

He’s got plenty of rope and a few gags, but he prefers using his belt or his hand to spank you, they’re more personal and it makes him feel so possessive seeing the print of his fingers and rings on your ass rather than the imprint of a paddle

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh my lord this man will tease you.

Waking you up in the morning with slow teasing brushes on your thighs, stroking slow circles onto your clit to wake you up, whining and squirming as he whispers filthy things in your ear, drawing you right to the edge before springing out of bed with a kiss to your cheek to go and make his morning coffee. Lingering touches, brushing your ass or kissing the sensitive spot on your neck in public, disguising it as innocent. In bed, he will edge you within an inch of your life, until you’re babbling and tears are pooling in your waterline. Will staring down at you with half a smile and a titled head,

“God you’re so desperate aren’t you, pet? So fucking pathetic, falling apart for me, do you wanna cum?”

and as you frantically nod your head, moan caught in the back of your throat, he’ll pull his fingers out of your pussy and slap it before the strangled ‘no!’ has time to make it out of your mouth

“Too predictable. My silly girl never catches on.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s definitely more of a grunt and groan sort of man, big into a deep sigh when he sinks into your cunt - however he will moan when you surprise him by slapping him back or getting rough with him in response, you slapped him round the face once whilst being bratty and he made a sound neither of you recognised

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

baby boy will….you are a sub deep deep down in your heart, in that little locked away room in your brain that aches and whines when he’s in trouble with you or when you’re the big spoon. He’s too scared to say it out loud but when he’s sucking your nipples and your scratch his hair, the cracks in his dom side form and he wants nothing more than for you to baby him and milk his cock within an inch of his life. The rare occasion that your tongue slips lower whilst you lick and suck at his balls and circle the ring of his asshole, he’s so close to caving and begging you to be mummy for the night x

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A good solid penis. Bigger than average, a good solid 7 inches, though on the bigger side, his girth makes the difference tho - heavy and thick as it stretches you open, definitely thicker at the base so you feel every inch as he enters you

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

All the time everyday that man wants to be inside of you somehow - he can sometimes be satiated with a snog and a quick grope of your tits or ass, however when he gets in one of his moods he’ll need to get his cock into your mouth or hand or pussy asap

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After a couple of rounds, if you’re in bed he will definitely fall asleep pretty quickly, after making sure you’re cleaned up and tucked under his arm

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