╰┈➤ Hi, I'm your resident Trans, disabled writer. You can call me Roo, Buckaroo or Pretty Boy. I'm 27 and I love Lewis Pullman. While I am getting into writing more of his characters, my heart will always belong to our favourite cowboy Rhett Abbott 🥰
╰┈➤ Rules For Requests: I have no known limits. Make it as sick or as soft as you want. 😉 My inbox is always open, if you don't have a request, please just come say hi!
╰┈➤ If my writing moves you, whether it be to tears or arousal, please think about checking out my ko-fi or my wishlist. These things help me feel not so useless as I currently can't work and still live at home with my dad. 🙃
╰┈➤ I'm really just a terrified guy who still feels like a twelve-year-old playing pretend and trying to find some happiness and peace along the way. Turns out, my happiness comes from writing about pretty boys on the internet. ❤ I hope you stay awhile. ☕
Summary: Bob needs to switch off. Miles needs to forget. And you really, really want to take the best care of your two boys. Thankfully, Mommy has just the new toy for the job.
Content Warning: Pure threesome smut. Mommy kink, pet play, praise kink, pegging, prostate play, dirty talk, brat taming, light feminisation, spanking, hyperspermia, dacryphillia, edging, thigh fucking, and handjobs.
A/N: Dedicated to @theboardwalkbody and @lalalunascope (who also kindly proofread). Sorry for psychically ransacking your dreams, Amanda - consider this an apology and your formal bribe to get into Lewships 🙂↕️
Word Count: 10k. Literally just one 10k smut scene.
Available on AO3
“Come on, Puppy - that’s it. Be a good boy and cum for Mommy.”
It’s cruel, really. You know you won’t let him. The strained, high-pitched keen that’s muffled by the bedding tells you he knows it too. But the man lying next to him, wide-eyed like an innocent, startled doe in the headlights, does not.
You really are a cruel, cruel mistress.
Not cruel enough, however, that you haven’t spent the last twenty minutes slowly stretching him and your other partner out, generously dribbling lube over the defined crack of his cheeks, letting the cool liquid send a chill through his spine as it slowly slid down… All before feeding it into his tight pucker. Despite his desperate whimpers to hurry up, you knew better. Knew that the strongest being in the universe needed taking care of once in a while with a firm but gentle hand, ready to take him apart again and again, all to make him whole once more.
He had already cum once; they both had. Two fingers, quickly turned into three as both Bob Reynolds and Miles Miller lay on their fronts over the edge of your bed, feet firmly planted on the floor, and grinding their asses back into your clever digits as they scissored and twisted inside of them. It was almost a competition to see who could make the most pathetic noises as they humped the blunt edge of the bed to orgasm, like they had done on your legs just the week prior. His body still periodically twitching to kindly remind you he was still alive and breathing, Miles didn’t seem to have gotten the memo that the round was over.
God, your boyfriends really should be more grateful… The metaphorical lightbulb lit up your face as Bob’s powers fried the bedside lamp. Now there’s a thought.
“You're not going to say thank you?” you ask Bob. Even under the heavy, echoing sounds of your thighs clapping against his supple flesh, Bob can hear the affected pout in your voice. “After I got you all nice and stretched out on my dick?”
The pad of your finger punctuated your point as it coquettishly traced the ring of spasming muscle - at once shutting you out, sucking further inside the black silicone it already feasted upon, and fighting the urge to take whatever you deigned to offer him. Already, his breathing was running ragged. Turns out, the power of whole universes couldn’t keep up with just one mortal and their 6-inch, strap-on dildo.
The one that suddenly stopped, the plush but unyielding head keeping him open as it kissed against his hole. Teasing. Promising.
You couldn’t see his face as he ground his forehead into the quilt, trying to dispel the frantic energy that had no other option than to shoot out through his curling toes, and punch its way through his chest, causing his heart to pound like a war drum until you could feel it under your secure grip on his waist.
“I’ll thank you after I c- Oh god-”. Whatever taunt sat on his tongue was swallowed the second you drove the whole length of your cock back in, back bowing like an over-tuned guitar string when the bulbous head hit his prostate dead on. You plucked at him with each tight rotation of your hips, keeping up the pressure on that smooth bump like you could commit it to memory on your clit through the unfeeling silicone. Each press and rub elicited a delicious light nudge against your swollen pearl, not enough to build, but firm and persistent enough to feel like he truly was on the end of your dick. Stamping your claim on his body and soul as you moulded his guts in the image of your cock. No one made him feel owned as you did, like he finally belonged somewhere. To two someones who had made it their life’s mission to learn what he needed, even when he often didn’t know himself.
And after the week he had, you knew your Bob needed to switch off that chaotic, troubled mind of his, at least for the night. It had started with a movie on the sofa. Bob’s tired, heavy head on your lap, followed by your other boyfriend appearing in the doorway, waking from his second nightmare that week. No longer paralysed by the fear that he was an intruder in the relationship, Miles curled up like a cat under your arm, wrapping it around him like a favourite, weighted blanket. Now swaddled by your body, not much time elapsed before they were kissing each other, and then you, their mouths hanging open in a silent plea to relinquish control. Even fewer minutes passed before they were both on their knees, clawing at your trousers until they lay in a heap on the floor, allowing them to lap at your chosen toy as they snuggled it into place against your bud.
The memory made your hips stutter. A slap against his ass rang out, jolting both him and his bedmate in sympathy.
“What was that? Lil Puppy tried to bark, did you?”
“No!” he protested, weakly pawing at the bed to push himself up to plead his case. But you pinned him with the flat of your palm against the valley of his shoulder blades. The mightiest hero who had ever lived, trapped under just your fingertips, and the unsaid promise of his reward if he was a good boy. “M’sorry”, he whined. The incremental shift of his hips as he tried to steal another inch inside himself told you he was not.
Luckily for him, you loved it. There was something so special about watching Bob take his pleasure, instinctively knowing that he was cared for and loved so much that he could play with the power you and Miles had cultivated in him... Unfortunately, however, he really ought to know better than to take without asking.
The second spank ricocheted off the walls. “What was that, baby?”
“I’m sorry!” he wailed, his cock leaking like a tap despite having recently cum. “I wanna be good- I’ll cum for you Mommy-Ah!, just please touch my c-cock. I’m so close, I promise!”
The gasp from Miles was louder than your own at his filthy words.
“I believe you, always such a good boy in the end”. The praise made him loll his head to the side, your eager puppy desperate for more. However, you knew Bob wanted to earn it. “... But you need to learn how to control that mouth of yours, and until you do, you’ll come with just my cock or not at all.”
The whine in response was all play as he thrashed against you on a final hard slam. Against the urging of every bone in your body, you ignored the enticing wiggle of his hips and scooped him up under his shoulders, plastering yourself to his now-sweating back. The brazen moan as the cool fabric of the lacey bra met his inhumanly burning skin made the extra $3.99 on priority delivery worth it in an instant.
What you now sacrificed in mobility, you more than made up for in depth, feeling his whole body release a week’s worth of tension as you rolled him between your hips and the bed as though you’d slowly run him through a mangle. When he couldn’t stretch out any further, you pulled back and did it again. And again. Harder, slower, stopping and then restarting, anything to keep him from finding an equilibrium. With each repetition, no matter how hard or soft you went, the action never failed to tear out a groan from deep within his soul.
And to your side, just inches away, unseeing eyes bore into you, mouth twitching in silent whimpers, encouraging Bob on. Miles moved as though he and Bob were two puppets tied together, the former hotel clerk rubbing himself against the bed with each of your conjoined movements. You felt like a vampire, watching yourself fuck your beloved in the mirror without you there at all. You sped up, and sure enough, so did Miles. You slowed again, encircling your hips, and he limply followed with feather-light swirls against the bed.
You brought your mouth to Bob’s ruddy pink ear, the suggestion of a canine lightly nibbled on the shell as you huffed, “I think you have an admirer, Puppy.”
He didn’t move, not at first. You both knew full well what seeing Miles’s wrecked expression did to him… Which is exactly why you took a handful of his locks and turned his face to see. Your thrusts never faltered. You couldn’t fully see Bob under his long hair, but you could see Miles’s pupils dilate the second Bob must have opened his.
Your Bunny’s face was frozen somewhere between fear and bliss, like the pictures of holy saints that he so loved, entrapt in a religious ecstasy that always triggered a ‘bless your cotton socks’ look between you and Bob when Miles protested that no, they were perfectly innocent, thank you very much. Bob must have been thinking the same thing, as a soft laugh bounced you up and down.
You went to tease, but Bob got there first. “E-Enjoying the show?”
Oh, what monster had you created? You patted his head like a dog performing his tricks unprompted, rewarding him further with a quick downward stroke to slide his own length across the sodden sheets. The haze that had descended on Miles’s face since his orgasm was slowly lifted as he realised that yes, despite what his nerves were telling him, he still existed, and he was being talked to. You weren’t sure he knew what he was agreeing to as he absently nodded, the tiny motion dislodging yet more drool from the open slit of his mouth.
“What do you think, Bob, does our patient Bunny deserve a reward, too?”
He whined like he’d been kicked, nodding so vigorously he nearly took your chin out. Miles, to his credit, seemed to realise Bob’s mistake before he did as his breath hitched.
“Okay, okay. Down boy,” you chided, giggling the whole time. You let go of his shoulders and gently eased yourself off him, his heated skin clinging to you like tape… Until that is, you were gone completely.
“No-! No!” Bob cried. “Don’t go, please - I’m so close.”
He tried to find the leverage to push himself up, but he flopped back down as soon as he felt your hand on his back. You didn’t even need to push. Now standing straight again, you cricked your back, trying not to laugh at the desperation emanating from Bob, and the sheer excitement that speckled Miles’s eyes and made him blush.
“Don’t worry”, you gently cooed to Bob. You gave a reassuring pat to his ass, your voice taking on a dark tone that made them both quiver. “Mommy’s not going anywhere.”
It had been a new strap that you had bought just a week earlier, one you had casually instructed them to fetch when they got you ready. The faux-leather holster looked the same, and to keep the surprise, you had kept it assembled and ready for your first time. But this toy had one catch. The dildo was easily detachable.
Bob could hear you doing something, could feel it too as the silicone rattled about, but the hand on the curve of his spine told him to keep still. Which, unfortunately for you, meant looking right at Miles. He never meant to. Your sweet, dear Miller would never do anything to betray your trust, but his open face was your schemes' number 1 arch-nemesis. Before you could untangle it, you spotted their unspoken communication beneath you—a tilt of Bob’s head up. A tremble of Miles’s lips, followed by a dart of his eyes between you. You’d kept your thighs away from Bob for this very reason, so you could walk over to Miles with a new strap without him ever realising that it wasn’t you inside him anymore…
Alas, it was another victory for that baby-faced traitor.
“No! Please!” Bob urged, wrapping you in his legs, almost tripping you over as his heels met your butt to keep you locked together. Bob tried to push back, to seduce you to stay and finish the job with a cluster of “Pleasepleaseplease”, breathed out with the prettiest, most desperate tone he could manage this side of another climax. But every one of them fell on deaf ears.
“Ah ah ah, bad Puppy”, another spank, imprinting your palm into his skin, healed as instantly as it started to paint his cheeks. “Gotta learn to share if you want to cum, understand?”
“Please, Mommy. Mistress-”. It was a low blow, but not low enough. Bob’s pleas became mindless as you finally managed to detach the dildo. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of trying to escape Bob’s lower-body hold on you, you instead simply leaned forward and picked up the thinner, but still long orange toy from within the chest of drawers. Pulling it through the harness’s ring, you didn’t argue back. You didn’t acknowledge misbehaving puppies after all. You just cleared your throat and waited.
And waited.
Miles suddenly stared in quiet disbelief, beseeching Bob with every shift in his expression to surrender his hold. You smirked. For all his innocence, you thought Miles knew exactly what he was doing. First, he let his lip quiver, then unshed tears glittered under his batting long lashes. When Bob’s legs merely tightened possessively around you, Miles tried to look annoyed, but anger never rested easily on Miles’s shoulders, so instead he scrambled for heart-wrenching betrayal worthy of an Oscar. Finally, he found his killing blow. His cute lil buttoned nose sniffed a couple of times like he was about to cry, the very action that earned him his eponymous pet name. And as Bob’s calves eased for just a moment, you thought you saw Miles mouth ‘please’, sucking in his lower lip as though a whole babble of them was lying in wait. God help you, you have made two monsters.
Knowing he was outmatched, Bob’s legs fell from your waist. Giving him a fond tap ‘well done’ to the meat of his thighs, you paced to Miles like a jaguar, appraising your next delicious meal that lay like a sweet innocent lamb, eager to be led to the slaughter. Your teeth flashed in a predatory smile as he subconsciously shook his butt, getting comfortable on the edge of the bed and folding his arms under him to hide the tiny, victorious smile from his boyfriend.
You grabbed the bottle of lube on the bed and clicked it open. The hairs on Miles’s arm stood on end in a Pavlovian response, his lids fluttering closed so he could hear everything you were doing and see it perfectly in his mind’s eye without breaking your rule on turning. You put a generous dollop of the gel onto your finger and asked if he was ready. When the stuttered affirmative came, you carefully reopened him with just your ring finger. The elongated sigh that escaped Miles’s throat, as easy and free as a spring breeze, set off your own Pavlovian response. A fresh torrent of slick leaked from your pussy, flooding your folds and the leather strap that was wedged between your lower lips. You rubbed your thighs together, trying to relieve the ache that was building in your core, but your wetness had made the harness slide with it, rubbing you with an intensity that cheated you of a surprised, guttural moan.
You stared pre-emptive daggers at Bob, expecting to be greeted by a Cheshire cat grin at your moment of weakness. But Bob had other things on his mind, and more importantly, in his ass. The dildo was still lodged inside him, obscenely pointing up towards the heavens in an offering to a God even The Sentry would get on his knees to worship. His hips canted, trying to drive it in deeper to where he wanted it most. You ignored his cheeky attempts to claim his pleasure and softly giggled when his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to suck the dildo back in. But his attempts were all in vain. He bit the duvet to hide his grunts of frustration as the cock ever so slowly started to work its way out of him, his body doing everything it could to shut the door on it, even as his mind screamed for it to be welcomed back in like a dear friend. Just as it was coming close to falling out, high-pitched, panicked wimpers escaped the gag of silky cotton. Showing mercy, you took it by the flared base with your hand that wasn’t knuckle-deep in hotel clerk, and gave it a gentle series of slaps, hammering it in like the final nail in the coffin of his brattiness. Both men went deadly silent under you, one in wonderment, the other in mind-wiping pleasure as you used him as a sleeve to hold onto your discarded cock.
You twisted the dildo, screwing it into place. Only the black base was visible, a cartoonish circle that pulsed back and forth ever so slightly, as though his hole was pacifying itself on it. You struck him, straight on the toy, causing his whole body to quake until it broke the Richter scale.
“You’ve been a naughty Puppy, but don’t worry, you’re still going to cum”, you promised. Your play never ventured into cruelty. As much as Bob liked to test the rules, you always set them again, letting him feel secure while you found ways to ensure he still got his reward at the end. “You just need a lesson in sharing your toys first. Keep my cock nice and warm for me until I get back, understood?”
His body relaxing into the soft plush of the bed, the dildo now firmly pressing against him but not overwhelming, Bob nodded. Likely biding his time, but you allowed it. Maybe you weren’t such a cruel mistress after all.
Refocusing on the eager, slowly impatient man below, you pulled out. Your voice sang with a low burr, in case anything too loud could startle your tiny rabbit, “Now let’s see what we have here. Show me that pretty clit of yours, baby. Did watching our Puppy get it nice and wet?”
The best things in your life had been a quiet, accidental discovery. The terrified New Avenger slumped in your kitchenette, holding his breath as he hid from an enemy that had pushed his emotional buttons when his physical ones proved invincible. The hotel clerk who silently fussed with his sleeve as he appeared on your doorstep, seeking your famed help when his conscience couldn’t take the blackmail anymore. You opened your heart to them both, not letting any of those moments slip through your fingers. But there had been smaller discoveries that proved just as great and momentous. The time you realised Bob slept more easily with Miles spooned in his arms after a late night reading session. The lingering stares that told you their feelings weren’t just for you. And the moment your brain decided to break its connection to your mouth when you called Miles’ pecs his breasts, making him cum with just your and Bob’s hands down his pants.
It had quickly developed from then to the present. Now, Miles turned on his side, giving you and Bob a full display of his (somehow) still erect penis, blushing as hotly as his cheeks at the feminine name. The tip twitched frantically in indecision, not knowing whether to strain towards you or towards Bob with a faint ‘come hither’ bend. Luckily, you decided for him. You took his length within your hand, smothering it as your fingers wrapped themselves around him. Making sure Bob could see exactly what kind of treatment well-behaved boys got, you gave it a few slow and firm pumps, spreading the spend that still clung to his turgid flesh and the soft swell of his tummy. The blunt head peeked out of your fist, a timid mouse courageously braving your and Bob’s ravenous gaze, before disappearing again when you collected the pearl of clear fluid and coated him from root to tip.
You hummed in a sing-song tune, weighing him up in your palm, luxuriating in the feel of the velvety skin cloaking his hardness as you encouraged the blood flow to engorge him further with steadily quickening strokes. “Beautiful, absolutely stunning. Don’t you think so, Puppy?”
“Fuuck”, Bob quietly slurred, his voice barely registering over the slick, wet thumps of your hand. “So beautiful. Think if you keep touching him, he’s gonna pop already.”
There was no meanness behind his words, just simple, objective fact. One that was not lost on you as you felt the telltale quiver at the base of his prick, his leg nearest you opening wider to make it easier for you to reach. Miles didn’t like to push you as Bob did; he wanted to be told what to do and to follow your orders to a T, handing his body on a platter and knowing you’d cherish and protect the soul within. There was something so sacred to him about being able to let go, knowing you’d both be there to catch him where others had done their best to bleed that trust dry.
And because of that faith, he now owned the parts of himself he had once hated. No longer shying away from Bob’s watchful, intense gaze or your honey-sweet voice, that indulged him in praise after praise, he instead let his small, precious smile shine through. It had taken months for his once thin, watery smiles to grow teeth; now they did so readily whenever both of you were around.
The beaming grin tugged on your heartstrings. Giving Bob a small wink, you knead the underside of Miles’s member with your thumb, coaxing another squirt of pre like it was the easiest thing in the world. “I bet he wants to, but he knows he can’t do that without permission.”
“Yes, Mommy, I’ll be good.”
“I know you will. Now, show Bob what we say”, you teased.
He shuddered, his lips tugging imperceptibly wider, “T-Thank you, Mommy. Thank y-you, Robbie.”
“That’s it, such an obedient boy for me”. You let the words fill your bedroom as Miles breathed them in, inflating his lungs until he puffed his chest. “As your treat, why don’t you choose your reward?”
He craned his neck and gazed at you like you were an angel sent from heaven, taking in your ethereal beauty while he still had the chance. “Want you to fuck me, please. I-I need it, I feel so empty- it aches so bad, Mommy.”
That was all you needed. A tiny chirp escaped his lips as you quickly manhandled him right back into where he belonged - under you and your cock, side by side with Bob. With a quick heave, you took him by his thin hips and returned him to the edge of the mattress, rolling him back to his front. Bob shifted in place, just as eager as Miles to watch you take him apart.
“Open yourself up, let me see that pretty pussy”, you commanded, soft but firm. Ever the dutiful soldier, he does so in an instant, spreading his legs as wide as he can so you can slot yourself in place. Murmuring another automatic praise, you pick up the bottle of lube again and pour it over the smaller toy, pumping yourself, giving your clit a delicate roll to tie it over for a bit longer. Once it’s glistening obscenely under the mood lighting of your bedroom, you finish the bottle, the final drops eeking their way onto his waiting ass as you anoint it for the final time. He’s still drenched from your thorough fingering from earlier, but Miles often needed more prep than Bob, as well as more time to relax into it.
You quickly knelt to place a lingering kiss on each cheek before taking yourself in hand and running the fat head over his crack and down against his undercarriage. His own tip caught against the bed, his balls hung heavy over the side, you thrusted against the sensitive seam of sac before dragging your cock back along the whole length from perineum to ass. Letting him know exactly how much bigger than him you were. Just the thought of how deep inside his guts that cock could reach made him shudder.
The orange toy rested against his opening. As you expected, it jumped away, Miles suddenly standing on his tiptoes as he did his best to stoically push down the nerves that always reared their ugly head at the worst moments.
“Colour?”
“G-Green”, he stuttered.
Needing confirmation, you held his hand as it lay limply on the bed. Taking the hint, he squeezed twice for go.
“Perfect. You’re perfect, always are for us. So tell me if you need to stop or slow down, ‘kay baby?” You knew drawing attention to it would only make things worse, especially when he was already slipping into that floaty headspace where he needed you to do the thinking for him lest his own mind take over and sabotage everything.
The toy was only a hair’s width over two of your fingers, but Miles battened down the hatches like there was a fearsome monster on banging its doorstep. You nuzzled yourself just a fraction deeper, letting him get used to the less forgiving silicone. Bob always said it felt like the first time with Miles, and as he gripped you in an obscene chokehold, you believed it. His whole body was on tenterhooks, skin tightly drawn across the expanse of his back, sculpted from years of service. Old muscle memory tried to wrestle him from you, standing to attention to take whatever pain he’d been drilled in to accept as a soldier. He knew neither of you would hurt him, even the supposedly ‘unstable’ superhuman, but that didn’t stop his body from trying to protect him anyway. It wasn’t unlike what the Sentry would do for Bob, taking over when things got too much. Better then, to do what you had done with Sentry and bring his body back on side.
Seeing the challenge ahead, you nodded to your partner in crime. You worked quickly together, a well-oiled machine, honed through months of practice. Even from his new home, faceplanted in the mattress, Bob worked his true magic.
“Shushhh”, you soothed. “It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so well for me, sugar, just need you to relax.”
You gestured to Bob to start. A gentle hand weaved through the curl of Miles’s fringe, slicking it back and out of his tightly clenched eyes. Bob wavered, keeping Miles’s forehead cradled so he could keep his keen, watchful gaze over Miles, looking for any sign he was hiding his discomfort. You saw the roll of Miles’s neck as he tried to burrow his face into the sheets, but Bob was stubborn when it came to Miles and kept him in his line of sight. Bob had been in his shoes once, grinning and bearing everything the world threw at him, not knowing there was any other way to exist. But then you came along. You showed him the alternative, supporting him in asserting and caring for himself within the safe haven of your bed.
Then you welcomed Miles in, too, and Bob flourished. Under both of your tender, loving adoration, Miles found his path to healing, with Bob passing on the lessons you had learned and crafted together. He wasn’t there yet, but every day brought him closer. And for when he still struggled, Bob was waiting in the wings.
When Bob saw you ease back, unable to penetrate any further, he scooched over. Still on his front, ignoring the tussle of the makeshift plug, he placed a chaste kiss on Miles’s crown, running his fingers through his curls, giving him tiny scritches he knew always drove him crazy. You tried again, and this time you sank in that slightest bit deeper. Not wanting to overstep, you signalled to Bob again.
“Doing so well”, Bob whispered, now so close Miles could feel his warm breath caressing the cooling sweat of his brow. “Feels big, doesn’t it?”
Miles hiccuped. For a while, he felt chagrined that he couldn’t take a cock like the both of you could. Still did, when even now his body struggled over a mental block he wasn’t privy to. But Bob’s encouragement and your soothing hand on his bottom eased a slow, languid “soo big” from his drooling maw.
“Yeah, it is. God, S’not fair, want to see how full you look. Worked so hard to train yourself for our Mommy, didn’t you?”
That got the shattered moan you were waiting for. Although, to be entirely honest, you weren’t sure if it came from you or Miles. The smug, amused smile on Bob’s face staring back at you gave you your answer.
You pushed his dildo back in place to wipe that smirk clean off.
But who could blame you? Just the sight of the two loves of your life, looking absolutely wrecked as Bob talked Miles through taking your juicy cock, his own girthier dildo wriggling as it started to push out again. It was too much. Your pussy throbbed with such force you swore it was swelling around your strap.
“God, Bunny”, you keened, nudging a bit further in. “I-I can feel you on my clit. You’re making me gush.”
Torturing yourself further, you opened Miles’s cheeks with your thumbs. You stared transfixed. His cute lil pucker quivered around you like it was shy, even as it gradually expanded over the end of the head, finally taking it all inside with a quiet, yet obscene ‘pop’. You took a deep breath to compose yourself before thrusting those couple of inches in and out, not yet going any deeper.
Miles was trembling under you; judging from the pitiful noises he was making, he had gagged himself with the quilt cover. The dirty talk seemed to be working, so as you gave Miles your inch, Bob took a mile. A conspiracy of looks and nods, so complex and instinctive that it would make even a codebreaker weep, your spy bade you forward and back, stopping and starting when he could see Miles relax and tense up. For a moment, you weren’t sure who was leading whom- a moan bubbled low in your chest. You clamped your mouth shut before it could escape.
“You hear that? She can barely keep it together”, Bob teased.
Ah, shit. So much for fucking the sassiness out of him. Maybe you should have let him cum when you had the chance. You rolled your eyes as his narrowed, an evil glint lighting them while his whole face darkened as it always did when he got one of his ideas.
Miles turned to look at you, but Bob held him in place.
“Keep looking at me”, he continued. “Mommy’s a bit busy right now.” Bob swirled the tresses of Miles’s hair around his pointer finger like a phone cord. He sounded just as casual as an 80s teenage girl gossiping down the line to her friends. Abusing his kindness, he drank you in, knowing you wouldn’t reprimand him while he was helping Miles.
“You want to know what you’re doing to her?” Miles nodded so vigorously he thumped against the bed like the hind legs of a march hare. Bob chuckled, his eyes flaring brilliant gold as he stared right at you. Served you right for making a deal with a horny devil. “You got her dripping, Bunny. The strap between her looks drenched… Even her thighs are. Every time she’s thrusting into you, her breasts are heaving. They look so beautiful cupped in that bra, I… I think I can see her nipples underneath,” He sounded genuinely taken aback as he raked his eyes over you. “God, Miles - they look rock hard, and you’ve not even touched her. Imagine what they’re going to feel like against your back once she starts to really fuck you. Think if we’re really good, she’ll let us have another taste after?”
It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The image of your boys from just a fortnight ago, both of them shucking your bra down just enough to nurse from you to self-soothe after a particularly intense session- you collapsed into Miles, another couple of inches locking into place. You didn’t cum, but god, any more of that and you could.
Miles was now fully squirming like a worm underneath you, a puddle of muscles and sinew melting into the sheets. You didn’t know who was more worked up, you or Miles.
But it was Bob, suddenly sounding completely broken, watching the debauched masterpiece unfold, who was truly gone. “Shit, she’s drooling nearly as much as you are”, he muttered, more to himself than either of you. You noted, with just a hint of satisfaction, that his eyes were a steely blue once more. But more than that, they were starting to glaze over.
He had done it. Your beautiful, fiendish, ridiculous boy actually did it.
Just describing you had made him dip that incredible brain of his into the primordial soup, sinking it back to the state where executive function ceased to exist and every nerve and thought all led back to one place. He looked completely mesmerised by your dick, mouth hanging feebly open in a perfect ‘o’.
So not even Bob could resist Bob’s charms?
You were never going to let him live this down.
Reaching back inside for that dominant spark that re-energised you, you felt the flame ignite in your belly. It consumed you. Standing tall over both of them as you got high off your own fumes, your shoulders filled out, your voice rasped into something between a purr and a lion’s growl.
“Damn right I’m drooling. Got my two boys playing so nicely together, all just so Mommy can fill you up as you deserve”. You spanked them both in succession. “You wanna be my good Bunny? Then I’m gonna breed you like one.”
You would swear under oath you didn’t mean to press forward at that moment, but it was like the gravity suddenly reasserted its authority and slammed you forward. All of Miles’s resistance disappeared before the words had even finished leaving your mouth. A broken, guttural cry was the only thing left in its wake as Miles practically seized under you in ecstasy, feet kicking at the floor as the sheer, overwhelming bliss lay claim to every nerve in his lower body.
It was just a blink, but Bob’s eyes flashed gold once more, brighter than the sun and all the treasures of Solomon. He looked so fucking proud of Miles.
“You did it, baby”, you cooed, letting your soothing voice blanket over him like a fussing babe as he caught his breath. Tears of relief rose over his eyelids, running down his flushed, glowing cheeks like a steady, babbling brook. Before they could reach the ocean of sheets, Bob tilted his face to meet him and kissed them away. A low sussurrus of mindless praise escaped his lips, ‘such a good boy for Mommy’, ‘always so brave’, ‘love you, Bunny’.
You didn’t even need to tell Bob to get back into position. Once Miles was more collected, flopping like a relaxed pet rabbit, flat as a pancake under both of your attention, Bob gently headbutted against him. It was just a little boop, two bonded strays wordlessly expressing what their distant brains could not, and then Bob inched back. Lying on the bed, ass to the air, waiting for his turn. Only this time, Miles didn’t let him go. Arms straining awkwardly, they interlaced their fingers in the space between them, Bob tethering the floating Miles down to earth, and Miles silently thanking him. Watching over him, your Puppy looked like a protective, ferocious guard dog.
Oh, you were going to make sure he got his reward after.
Miles wriggled himself back onto you, chanting ‘green, green’ like a desperate prayer to a merciful God. And after their display today? How could you be anything but?
Now that you had uttered those magic words, as powerful as an ‘open sesame’ on the entrance of Fort Knox, you slid in and out of Miles with ease. Each gentle thrust was met with another corresponding kick, a flail of his head into the bed, a thumping punch into the bed. He was already dialled up to eleven, feeling every single atom of the silicone stretch him open in delicious, bone-trembling pleasure. He sounded almost giddy as he took you in his stride, his excitement reflected back to him by Bob, who looked addicted to Miles’s high as though it was his own.
Their excitement was infectious, making you giggle, “There you go. Such a greedy ‘lil hole”.
The slap of your skin as your thighs met his sounded more heavenly and victorious to Miles’s ears than the trumpets of Jericho. Both hands firmly planted on his waist, pulling him back onto you as you gradually built up speed, you moved as one being, now in perfect sync as Miles’s body recognised its keeper.
And Miles quietly joined in, even as his mind was slowly turned to putty, he switched off every anxious thought and let himself be led by just instinct and his beloved mistress. Where you gently brought him close, he bounced on you. When you pulled him off, he practically leapt up the bed.
“Y-You’re so deep…” he whined. “M-Mommy… More, please-”
The warm hospitality of Miles’s snatch would make his old profession proud. You couldn’t leave him a five-star review, but you hoped that the five quick spanks along the cushion of his bubble butt made up for it. Pulling all the way out until just the tip remained, you opened his cheeks again, watching the way his hole refused to let you go now that it finally had you. He took a shaky deep breath, but before he could exhale, you slammed back in, making him choke on the air as you punched a series of ‘ah ah ah’s from his spit-slick lips. Stuck between a relentless to and fro of ‘too much’ and ‘not enough’, he slinked up the sheets like a soldier going prone.
And each time you laughed, towing him back with a sharp yank and onto the root of your cock. A “Where are you going, baby?” fell trippingly from your tongue, relishing in the chase. The harder you fucked him, the further he went. You pawed at his tender flesh, playing with your prey as he kept squirming away, letting him get so far before you hauled him back, welcoming him back to your claws with a triumphant smack.
You were pretty sure he was doing it on purpose.
Finally tiring your little bunny out, you feasted your eyes on him. If you could think about anything other than the pale twin marshmallows practically begging you to smoosh them together, you would have remembered you were supposed to be aiming for his G-spot. However, they were really, really squishable. Figuring you deserved this much, you groped at them, massaging them like a cat making biscuits as your cock plunged shamelessly between them. That is, until your reverie was broken by Bob’s amused, knowing laugh. The embarrassment jolted you back to reality, and with it, your hips. Miles hissed.
Oh. Right. The celebratory ‘ding-ding-ding’ rang around your empty head as you realised you had hit the jackpot. Yours and Bob’s smirk grew in perfect mirror image as you repeated the action, rubbing against that smooth spot before you testingly ebbed away and rolled back in. A sharp creak of springs struck your ears as Miles jumped, his legs wrenched back towards his ass, clamping under your ribs like a bear trap.
“There! Oh God, there-there-there!”
Your voice was the dictionary definition of innocent, even as your tongue was weighed down with lust as heavy as lead. “Was that it? Did Mommy find your g-spot, baby?”
His crown of curls burrowed into the sheets in a furious nod, his butt jiggling in perfect harmony as you rub against him. Before he could get used to it, your Bunny met Jackrabbit. With a particularly hard thrust, you memorised the spot and bore down on it, changing the angle so you could bully it with a speed even the Sentry would be proud of.
“Oh god-” was all he could bargain to as you bombarded your target with hit after hit, a lewd carnival attraction that you’d mastered over months of practice, all for the sake of the prized stuffed bunny you won at the end. When his hitches of breath dissolved into fevered pants, you stopped while you were still ahead and squeezed his engorged, purpling cock from under him.
His feet flailed in the air like a tantruming toddler. “No! Nononono! Please, Mommy- I’m so close. I need it-”
But it was no use. Miles looked to Bob, pleading with his round, shimmering eyes to say something, to do anything on his behalf. But now that his own pleasure was back on the table, Bob went dumb. Miles didn’t put up the fight that Bob did; his pouting, trembling lip did that for him. However, it wasn’t enough to stop the jostling of leather and metal as you detached the dildo and rested it nice and snug as you had done to Bob, right against his prostate.
Ever the sore winner, Bob lathered his commiserations to Miles swollen mouth before you pulled them apart. Any more, and you were going to have to get the spray bottle on them. You wasted no time threading the dildo back in, quickly ducking down to whisper a ‘thank you’ to Bob’s ears for what he did for Miles. His back bowed at the praise. Bowed even further when you speared him open, rutting straight back into him like an animal in season.
You didn’t sound much more evolved as you purred straight into his ear, “Been such a good Puppy today, now I’m gonna make you squeal like a bitch in heat”.
He did so like it was a command - his skin so hot his tears dried before they could reach the sheets. One hand on his shoulder, your mouth worked without conscious thought as your lust took the reins, hips ramming into him like a wind-up toy keyed up too tight.
“Take it - take Mommy’s cock.” you splutted. And he did with unrivalled aplomb.
You heard the shift of fabric even over your obscene ‘plap plap plap’ of sticky flesh. It was Miles, his hands encased in the sheets, twisting them so rigid that he bound his own wrists to the bed. They twitched. He wanted to raise his hand like an exemplary prefect, asking ever so politely if you could come over here and please fuck him into oblivion instead. You felt Bob shake, a shiver he tried to suppress from you and your incredible, mean schemes. He was close.
So you did what Miles’s eyes begged you to do.
Miles’ expression lay suspended between tremulous anticipation and a fearful, religious awe normally reserved for the prophets as you moseyed on over to him, leaving Bob hanging once again. Knowing you had him sussed, he didn’t even have the energy to protest.
You squished Miles’s face between thumb and forefinger, bringing him to look at Bob, so fucked out that at any moment he could turn to liquid and melt through the bed. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he? So handsome when he’s all flushed like that.”
Miles agreed, or you think he did. It was hard to hear as you put the dildo back on and went to work. Who needed yoga when you had two submissive, perfect boys under you?
And so it continued. You took Miles nice and slow, promising to ruin his pussy for anyone else. His hips lifted to greet you in supplication to your divine beauty for each unholy thrust, laying like a damned sinner in desperate prayer. His body was your altar as you filled him with your presence until cries of ecstasy overflowed from his lungs. His sniffling prayers for clemency, however, were lost as you returned to your Puppy, leaving him to wallow in his own drool and precum.
Bob wagged his invisible tail as you approached. He whined as you entered. And he panted when you pushed him by the scruff of his neck into the unforgiving mattress. You asked your captive Bunny what you should do with him. Bob must have taken a page out of Miles’s book if the gentle, loving smile on Miles’s face was anything to go by, for the clerk took pity and softly asked you to kiss your puppy. When you did so, Miles parted his lips as though he was joining in.
But while Miles had intended you to be gentle, you knew Bob wanted anything but. Claiming Bob’s mouth with a messy French kiss, you pulled him by the hair so you could lap your way inside. He could do nothing but grant you entrance, the wires connecting his brain to body severed in an instant as you nailed his prostate like you were magnetised to it.
By the time he registered that you were kissing him, you were already halfway through fucking Miles once more. His tongue lolled from his kiss-nibbled lips, searching for yours, absently waiting for when you came back.
He wouldn’t have to wait long. With a firm grip, you had tied Miles’s wrists together, holding them to the small of his back as you snuggled your hips into his. He raced towards that final precipice quicker than ever before, struggling in delight as you refused to let him budge. You bade him be quiet, like a good Bunny should. When he failed on each and every thrust, you spanked him until his ass was a lucicious garden of blooming red and pink roses.
You lost count of how many rounds it took, but eventually they both fell into line, completely under your thrall. No complaint was raised. Every order followed. They took the pleasure you gave them, and basked in the other’s as if it were their own. You didn’t even need to tell Bob to put his hands around his back like Miles had done; they were there before you had even pulled out of your Bunny.
Your pussy ached, rubbed raw from the onslaught until it was starting to chaff. Both of the men under your command were a crying, trembling mess of limbs and barely audible gasps and moans as you pounded into Bob with abandon. You had well and truly fucked them dumb, making them drunk on everything you gave, and still thirsty for more. But each rotation was drawing quicker and quicker to a close, both of them hurdling to the edge in mere seconds. It was time.
“You close, Puppy?” you asked, as though you couldn’t feel every cell of skin ignite with the heat of barely contained, exploding stars.
The weak affirmative nod was all he could muster, bracing once again for the cruel laugh as you pulled out. But this time was different. You reached around and cradled his balls in your hand, rolling their heavy weight in your palm as they heaved with each thrust.
“That’s a good boy”. He had heard it before, refused point-blank to believe your pretty lies anymore. He whined, another fat tear burning on contact with his oven-hot cheeks. You continued undeterred, watching intently for that beautiful sight. The one where every cell lights up in sheer bliss when he knew, beyond all doubt, that you were finally going to let him cum. “You feel ready to burst - gotta find somewhere for all this to go. Where do you want it, baby? You wanna make a mess of yourself? Of us?”
You weren’t sure if he tried to speak or not. Maybe, just maybe, you should let him finish anyway, but you were nothing if not a diligent trainer. Puppies should speak when spoken to. The sultry, rhythmic squeak of the bed as you pummelled into him was unrelenting. So too was your mouth. You dived at his neck, sucking a hickey right into his pulse point, trailing another right below his ear. When the serum healed them, you did it again.
You blew on it as it faded from view, like a dandelion you could make a wish on.
You didn’t even have to contemplate what your wish was.
With a flourish of kisses, your voice led him by the leash, back to the edge, every fibre of his being ready to heave himself over at a moment’s notice. “Come on, Puppy,” you hummed– seductive siren’s song, promising his sweet damnation. “You’re so close. You know the magic word.”
But he didn’t. He didn’t know any words right now, just ‘Mommy Mommy Mommy’ bouncing around his skull like a ping pong ball, destroying every other thought in its wake. He shook his head, trying to rattle his mind free from its grasp. But the word just grew louder, stronger, until it was the entire purpose of his entire being. Bursting from its cage, your puppy, no- Your wolf, howled majestically.
“Mommy! Ahhh- Moommmmy!”
It was gorgeous. Awe-inspiring. Your precious Bob, imploding as you rearranged his insides, emptied his mind and bequeathed control of his body over to you. He was boneless. He was completely and utterly yours. You may not have been able to mark his body, but you marked his soul with every kiss to his throat.
But… That didn’t mean it was the right word.
“Pah”, you popped, rubbing his vocal cords like you could push the word free for him. “La…Eh..”
He gulped around you, frantically trying to work out what you were spelling before his mind went into system reset.
Just as he was losing all hope, his final functioning brain cells rubbed together.
You thought you saw the ‘Eureka!’ illuminate his pleasure-dulled eyes even from the back of his head.
“Pleaasse!” he wailed. “please-please-pleaseee!”
There it was.
A scream queen couldn’t have done a better job as he stretched the word out again and again until it ran out of oxygen. But still, he went one better, babbling through clenched teeth, he begged, “Wherever y’ want Mommy. Cum wherever- W-Want… Oh god p-please, I just wanna be s’gud f’you.”
You patted him on his fluff of hair. Wrenching him up, his shaking legs gave way under him. You, however, did not.
The Guardian of Earth fell back onto you with a soft, grateful huff, his back to your chest. The hitch in his breath only served to amplify his moan while a feeble dribble of lube leaked from between your toy and his gaping hole. Cock still lodged inside, you frogmarched him to the barely twitching body next to him, needing to move his legs with your own like a child’s stuffed doll.
Only the large shadow encroaching over Miles’s face gave him any clue what was happening. He didn’t stir when larger, sweating palms pinned him by the shoulders. Nor did he spot that his bedmate had disappeared at all. It was only when Bob’s meaty cock brushed against his sac that a faint spark of recognition seemed to jolt him back to life.
“Shushh shush”, you soothed, stroking his hair as you came in close. “It’s okay, baby, been so good for us. Let Puppy have a turn with you now, ‘kay?”
He nodded his consent, a slight shuffle betraying his eager, if exhausted, excitement. After how much of a struggle it had been to get the thin dildo inside, you didn’t want to ruin the evening by pushing Miles to take Bob’s thick cock. So instead, with a tap to his flank, you motioned Miles to spread himself. When he did, you took Bob in hand and inserted him between his pillowy thighs, slotting you all in place like you were all made for each other. Even as his spirit ascended higher than the invincible Sentry could fly, Miles took the hint and closed his legs.
Holding Bob with just the front of your strong thighs and a single arm around his chest like a seatbelt, you started to ride the hero into the veteran. The hours of edging had soaked Bob with pre-cum, his cock glittering with such a shine that you wondered for a second if somehow his powers had rushed to his member as well as his blood. However, it was all his mortal self as he stuttered between you, a limp shell of a man, helpless to do anything other than be a conduit for your cock and Miles’s pleasure. You rolled your hips, bullying his prostate so he could return the favour to the back of Miles’ aching balls. The action jostled the dildo in your Bunny, finding new nerves to pleasure with every clap of Bob’s hips to Miles’s and then yours.
You hooked your chin over Bob’s shoulders, watching Miles flop about like a fish on dry land as Bob kept him pinned just to keep himself upright. “That’s it, wiggle your thighs together. Puppy is gonna fuck them so good, I’ll make sure of it.”
The soft, padded flesh swaddled Bob’s entire length, billowing as you all moved in rigorous tandem. “G’d M-Miles”, Bob snivelled. “You’re- Ohohoh gawd.
You slapped Bob’s ass, riding him like a bull as he bucked into Miles so hard he saw stars. The panicked squeak as the dildo threatened to come out of Miles was short-lived as Bob collapsed forward, pushing it back in with his torso. You couldn’t be certain, but you’re pretty sure he nudged it in the rest of the way with his thumb.
It was meant for Miles’s benefit, but it drew Bob’s attention down to the intersection where Miles swallowed both the dildo and Bob’s aching member. Bob wasn’t sure if he or Miles was the toy. Bouncing between you and Miles, he realised. They both were. His head hung low, too heavy to ever hold up again- the twin sensations were too much. You and Miles overpowered his senses, his very veins and the space between his cells, strong and more potent than even the serum. A splattering of drool rained on Miles’s back before he could draw it back.
“I’m cummin’ - Fuck! Puh-please”, Bob warned. He sounded surprised, like he had forgotten such a possibility ever existed. That this pleasure could ever end, that he hadn’t always existed right here between you and your beloved Miles.
Miles braced himself, trying to swivel his head back to watch that incredible moment where the power of galaxies obliterated into a supernova, collapsing under its own strength with such force that it previously birthed entire solar systems. You waited in delirious anticipation… but it didn’t come. Only a strangled, muffled grunt echoed through your ears
You thought his cry of ‘please’ was to not leave again. However, as you caught a glimpse of his lower lip, sucked in between sharp teeth as he tried to hold himself together, you realised.
He wanted, no- Craved your permission.
“Do it”, you commanded. Firm and proud, eliminating any doubt from his mind. “My brilliant, perfect Puppy. Cum for your Mommy. Make me proud.”
The order hit him like it had physical force right between his shoulder blades, pushing him into the body below with a ‘thump’. You didn’t let up, shifting just enough to put whatever strength you still had left into pounding him into Miles’s thighs, chasing that climax for him.
Your Puppy’s voice thrummed, a sustained tremolo as whine, bark and howl all converged together and delirious, earth-shattering pleasure, “Mmphfh! Ah- ahhhhh– Thankyou-thankyou-thankyou!”
The room bristled with Sentry’s power - the light flickering on and off, a low hum crescendoing into another broken filament. You had multiple fairy lights dangling from the window for this one singular reason. They clattered together, a tornado of energy engulfing your tiny bedroom, the reinforced walls and floorboard creaking as though they were mere seconds away from tearing at the seams. The lights moved back and forth in a cavalcade of multicoloured beams, preparing the stage for the grand finale.
If there was one side-effect Valentina hadn’t accounted for (barring the consuming Void that nearly wiped out half of New York), it was this.
You laughed in awe? Jubilation? It was a strange reaction, whatever it was, but your body didn’t know what else to do as it was confronted with such a grand and beautiful spectacle. Whole religions had been founded on lesser visions than the one only you and Miles got to witness in the hallowed ground of your bed.
Your tone trembled as you stood before the divine, quiet and hushed, so neither of you missed a single moment. “Stay nice and still, Bunny, let Puppy milk himself with your thighs. Then you’ll get your treat.”
Wave after wave of cum flooded Miles’s thighs, hitting the side of the bed and falling to the floor. The force tore Bob apart; you and Miles held him together. You placed a tender, reverent hand over his stomach, feeling the muscle that always surged like a piston when he came this hard. It thumped against you, running out of sync with yours and Miles’s rhythm, beating to its own drum as it kept going. Bob caved over your arm, going completely limp, instinctively trusting you to catch him like a fallen angel as his soul plummeted back from the heavens.
You took the opportunity to quickly remove the dildo from Miles and take Bob’s engorged cock in hand. His mouth leaked just as much as his cock as moan after moan flowed like a waterfall, watching in a daze as you aimed him right over Miles’s empty, twitching hole.
“Go on, get it right in there”, you encouraged, sounding just as broken as Bob. The tip caught the ring of muscle, not penetrating, but shooting its load right into the begging orifice like a hose pipe. “Stuff our pretty Bunny full of all your cum. Want him nice and round so he can’t even think of leaving this bed again.”
Miles peeked up, twisting awkwardly around to watch. He stared at Bob like he was a rampaging mythical beast, caged by your arm and speared by your cock. Tamed, if just for a moment, to breed him like a virgin sacrifice to a pagan god. He couldn't see his irises under his wild, flowing hair, but he knew what colour they were. “Please, Booobbb. Want you-”
The plea knocked another pitiful dribble from his still undeflated cock.
Finally, there was no more left to give. Miles was a mess, streams of pearlescent cum painted his cheeks and crack, pooling in his opening and the small dimple at the bottom of his spine. Individual streaks descended varying, interlocking and winding roads, cascading over the swell of his thighs, the lean muscle of his calves. Some of it clung to his groin for dear life before dripping onto the ruined towel below. A steady drip-drip was the only sound in the room.
Before Bob could crush Miles below, you slowly and delicately eased your strap out of him, guiding Bob to the bed with all the grace you could still muster. He looked like he was breaking apart from the inside out. You could still feel that muscle in his belly, coiling and spasming as his orgasm continued to wring him dry. Even his cock bounced on his stomach, a still angry red like it was frustrated that it had no more to give.
Your Bob always got clingy after an intense session like this. Not wanting to leave him for more than a second, you went to move Miles into him, to give him the contact he needed. But Miles was already sluggishly crawling on his hands, dragging his dead weight to flop bonelessly on top of him. Still in the clutches of his orgasm, his arms grabbed for him blindly, like they couldn’t work out where he ended, and Miles began. But ever your golden-hearted, gentle soul, Miles brought his biceps around him, cocooning himself in his own personal heater while he lay like a weighted blanket over him. You saw the instant Bob’s heaving breaths started to even out.
Miles bunted his hand, encouraging him to comb his fingers through his hair, a trick that never failed to help Bob bring himself back to reality with a landing as soft as Miles’s curls. He slurred, head rolling in Miles’s general direction like he still wasn’t sure which way was up, “Mommy’s gonna make y’feel s’good Mi'..”
Miles placed a loving kiss on Bob’s nipple next to his lips. “Did so well, Bo’… Y’were amazin’. Lo’you…”
Bob wrapped him up even tighter, mouthing an approximation of a kiss to whatever skin he could find. You didn’t think a single villain, in this dimension or the next, could ever prise Miles from his embrace.
They had no right to be that cute while bathed in Bob’s cum, but your boys had done the impossible and saved worlds. Your days were filled with tiny miracles… what was one more?
You kissed along each bump of Miles’s spine, the scars of his shoulder, leading into his thick neck. They were gentle, just enough to let him know you were there, not overwhelming. Not pushing, just small affirmations until he was ready for whatever he wanted next.
Catching your drift, Miles met your eyes and nibbled on his lips, “I’m ready, M-Mommy. Can I please cum?”
It was never even a question. You scooped up some of Bob’s spend with your finger and filled him with his essence. Quickly reattaching his thin dildo, you had to kneel on the bed to reach him from on top of Bob. It wouldn’t take much - Miles was dangling right over that edge, but you wanted to make it perfect.
Taking yourself in hand, Miles jumped like a live wire, snapping with electric pleasure that reverberated right under every point of contact with his two loves. His body welcomed you back in, every movement sliding his cock against Bob’s stomach as he angled himself away from Bob’s oversensitive member.
Each thrust produced a filthy squelch. Your cock quickly coated itself in Bob's semen, fucking it into him on every jab, and letting it seep out whenever you pulled back. Whenever there was a lull in that debauched chorus of wet slaps, you gathered up more and filled him all over again. The thought took form, a thousand fireflies fluttering in your core. You really were breeding your Bunny.
Just as you thought Miles was about to finish, he surprised you. He rather had a habit of it, after all. Hips sensually rolling into him, turning his legs into jelly as he full body trembles, he used the last of his strength to limply raise his head and flop it onto the crux of Bob’s neck, landing softly so he could nuzzle into Bob's sanctuary, where the outside world ceased to exist. You had joked that if he could reach yours or Bob’s nape, Miles was always home. And as Bob tilted his lips down to meet him, you thought they both were. In the one you had made together
Miles was muttering something, what exactly, you weren’t quite sure, but Bob’s eyes rolled back, another squirt of cum painting their conjoined tummys. Bob brought Miles’s chin up to kiss him, their uncoordinated mouths slotting into place, more for comfort than arousal. Miles whispered something again, drawing Bob’s attention to you as Miles somehow found the presence of mind to giggle. Brushing a loose strand of hair from Bob’s face, you saw Bob's disbelief melt into something softer. Lids narrowing, he studied you… and then they softened, gold flecks swirling around the blue whirlpool of his eyes, in perfect equilibrium.
“You’re right”, Bob murmured, “She’s close…”
Wait… What?
Before you could ask, Miles pulsed under you. Your hips stuttered as he suddenly clamped down around you with a startled cry. He knew it was coming, but the force hit him like a runaway freight train. Living up to his namesake, he binkied against Bob, legs straightening and his face contorting in pleasure until they flowed out of his eyes, curling his toes, and straightening him out like he was on a medieval rack. He lost control of his body and his accent as he mindlessly moaned ‘momma’ into Bob’s throat like a mantra.
It was beautiful, gorgeous, every other adjective your brain could still think of- it was what you built your life around, to see him accept yours and Bob’s love like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And then it hit you. Bob was right.
His steely gaze pierced your own. His legs reached out for you, drawing you deeper into Miles, pushing the toy perfectly against your clit-
He smirked.
Oh, that fucker.
“Come on, Mommy, be a good girl, and come for us.”
And you did. Your vision blurred, white spots dancing around your periphery like spilt ink blots. Someone was screaming, distantly, you thought it sounded like you. The blobs of human-shaped flesh pulled you into their arms as liquid pleasure radiated from your clit, drowning your core until it erupted like a volcano, singeing every nerve and fibre until all that was left were the places your beloved held together. You’d never cum with just a strap before. The realisation was not lost on Miles and Bob as they chanted praise into your sweat-soaked skin. ‘Thank yous’ finding physical form as they suck hickeys into your flesh for each one, ‘love yous’ littering your breasts as they nibbled their way up and over the swell of your bosom… Until you felt it. Not a platitude, or a thanks… It was Bob at first. Of course it was.
Latching onto your breast as he had promised Miles, Bob laughed, lower than even the taunting jibes of the Void could reach. "Only one, Mommy? Think you can do better than that… We were so good, after all..."
Even dear, sweet Miles betrayed you as he eased your strap from your still gyrating hips, humping the air just in case the breeze from the A/C could somehow provide you with just a modicum of the friction you craved. You were powerless to stop him as he looked up from between your splayed legs, blinking slowly in innocent kitty kisses. You saw why Bob never stood a chance as he played the innocent cherub.
“Let Bunny and Puppy take care of you, Momma. Wanna taste you so bad… Wan’ see you squirt for us.”
God help you, you really had created two monsters.
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Taglist: @musicislove3389
Happy birthday ,my beloved!!!! You make me so happy and I can’t put into words how grateful I am to be your friend!! I hope your day is amazing just like you are!! 🥳❤️🥰 can I send in a request where rhett and reader are dating and the reader makes food for rhett and he realizes that he’s in love?
I LOVE YOU SOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH ROO!!!
You know, Rhett is a sucker for a home-cooked meal. He still lives with his mother; how could he not be? But the entire time that the two of you have been going out, you've never cooked for him. Not that you were a bad cook, you thought you were well above average, thanks to all your grandmothers' recipe cards and cookbooks that are up in your cupboard, it was just that Rhett's family always ate together, so you never got the chance.
As luck would have it, Royal had planned to take his wife out for dinner, and Perry was busy, so you took the opportunity to show Rhett that you weren’t all just talk. At around noon, you took out your phone to text him. “Don’t eat too big of a lunch, okay? I’m making you a special dinner tonight, and you should bring your appetite. ;)”
In retrospect, maybe the wink wasn’t the best emoji to add at the end of that text because Rhett is already half naked by the time you look up from the stove and you can’t help but choke on the greeting that was halfway out of your mouth before you say “What are you doing?”
“You said special dinner, I thought…” He trails off, standing there in jeans and socked feet, his shirt pulled off and pooled to the right of him on the floor.
It takes you a few moments to figure out what had been going through Rhett’s brain, but when you do, your face immediately goes slack in disbelief and then scrunches in slight disgust. “Ew, Rhett are you serious? I meant actual dinner!”
‘Well, I know that now,” Rhett laughs, picking up his shirt from the floor. Then, he walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “So, what are you making?”
“Just some chicken and pasta,” You smile softly. It wasn’t a lie, that’s exactly what you were making, the name and the backstory of the dish, however…
Your grandma had aptly named the dish "Marry Me Chicken." A dish that was surprisingly easy and yet tasted gourmet, a perfect choice for Rhett's first taste of your cooking. She had told you that this particular dish is what made your grandpa fall in love with her. That she had made it for him after a few dates, and he had asked her to marry him not long after. You had tried to explain to her so many times that times had changed, and it takes more than a few dates to know you want to marry someone, but she was insistent that you never doubt the power of the chicken.
You give the dish a small taste and decide that it's finished; it tastes just as you remember it. After turning off the burner, you spin around in Rhett's arms to face him. "Go wash up, and then I'll have a plate ready for you, hm?" You smile and peck his lips softly.
It doesn't take long for Rhett to come back from the bathroom, his hands freshly washed, and sit down at the table, plate of chicken and pasta in front of him. "Are you gonna stare at me the whole time?" He chuckles.
You hadn't even realized you were doing it; you were just so eager to see what he thought of your food. "Sorry," You laugh. "I just can't wait for you to try it."
"You're making me nervous." Still, he takes a bite.
Rhett honestly didn't know what to think when you told him you were going to make him dinner. Part of him, the part he would never admit to, was a bit worried that your food wouldn't measure up to his mother's, but all of those thoughts disappeared as soon as your food passed his lips. The words slip out before he can stop them.
"Holy shit, I love you." He's quick to catch himself, though, head lifting up to meet your eyes. "It. I love it. The... the chicken." He sort of fumbles over the words, but you maintain your composure."
"I'm really glad you love it," You answer, though you can't stop the way you smile around your fork. Maybe your grandma was on to something after all.
——
I'm still fighting for my disability benefits, but if you feel you could help me in the meantime, please click here, I'd be so eternally grateful ❤️
daniel craig: i know this is a catholic family-friendly whodunnit but what if we played it like we were accidentally realizing we are extremely sexually compatible and we just have to ignore it... because it's a catholic family-friendly whodunnit
josh o'connor, already on his knees: i mean i'll do what i can
Hey bestie boo's, I know it's been quite a while, but I feel like writing for my birthday, so if you want to, please send requests about any Lewis Pullman character you want to my inbox ❤️
briefing: after a few weeks away, Bob returns to the frat house expecting things to feel the same. they don’t—at least not at first.
words: 5k
warnings: very mild sexual content, kissing, emotional intimacy, brief tension/unease, implied power dynamics
author note: Lew's beard sparked something. 🫣 Please reblog and let me know what you think!
Bob tells himself it hasn’t really been that long.
A few weeks isn’t anything, not really. Not when they’ve still been talking—texts throughout the day, the occasional call when their schedules line up just right, Todd’s voice warm and familiar through the speaker like nothing’s changed.
And nothing has changed.
Not in any way that matters.
Still—it’s not the same.
It’s little things. The absence of it.
No casual touches. No bumping shoulders. No Todd grabbing him by the back of his shirt just to pull him closer for no reason at all. No weight of him leaning in, no quiet, unconscious closeness.
Bob hadn’t realized how used to that he’d gotten until it was gone.
Now, it’s just… space.
He walks onto the sidewalk in front of the frat house and stops dead in his tracks, the sudden pause settling heavier than it should. The building looks exactly the same as always—lights on, faint movement behind the windows, the low hum of life inside.
Nothing’s changed.
And yet.
His hands stay in his pockets.
He doesn’t move.
For a moment, he just stands there, staring at the house like it might give him something—some kind of signal, some confirmation that walking inside will feel normal, easy, like it always does.
It doesn’t.
Bob exhales slowly, eyes dropping to the pavement. His fingers flex once against his body, then still.
He hasn’t been here in weeks.
It shouldn’t feel unfamiliar.
But it does.
There’s a flicker of something he doesn’t quite name—hesitation, maybe. Not doubt, not really. Just… that strange, quiet uncertainty that comes from stepping back into something after being away from it long enough to notice the gap.
He almost reaches for his phone.
Just to check, maybe send a message, a “hey, I’m here,” something small and grounding.
His thumb hovers.
Then stops.
No.
That’s not how this works.
Not with Todd.
Bob lets his hand fall back, jaw tightening just slightly as he pushes the thought away. He’s already here. Already came this far.
He’s not turning around now.
Another breath.
Then he finally moves—stepping toward the door, the sound of rocks moving under his shoes as he steps through the evening air.
The house looms the same as always.
Familiar.
Lived-in.
And just different enough that he feels it in his chest as he heads toward the door.
The door opens into noise.
It hits him all at once—the shift from quiet to lived-in chaos. Music somewhere deeper in the house, not too loud but constant. Voices layered over each other. Laughter breaks through in bursts. The sound of someone calling across the room, something clattering in the kitchen.
It’s familiar.
It’s always been like this.
Still, after the silence of his walk over, it feels sharper. Louder.
Bob steps inside, letting the door fall shut behind him, and for a second, he just stands there, adjusting to it. Letting it settle over him instead of trying to fight it.
A couple of people glance his way.
One of them lifts a hand in recognition—easy, casual.
“Hey, man.”
Bob nods back automatically.
Another guy across the room does the same, chin tipping up in acknowledgment before going back to whatever conversation he was in.
But not everyone looks.
And not everyone knows him.
There are new faces—people he doesn’t recognize at all. Someone brushes past him without a second glance. Another looks at him briefly, like they’re trying to place him, then gives up.
It’s subtle.
Normal.
But it’s enough.
Bob shifts his weight slightly, hands hovering at his sides before he tucks one into his pocket, grounding himself in something small and familiar.
His eyes move through the room on instinct—searching.
Todd.
It’s automatic, the way he looks for him. The way his attention filters past everything else without effort, scanning over bodies, faces, and movement.
He’s not there.
Bob pauses.
Looks again, slower this time. More deliberate.
Nothing.
The realization settles quietly, but it lands.
Of course he’s not.
Todd’s busy. He said he’d had a long day. There are a dozen reasons he wouldn’t be standing in the middle of the room right now.
Still.
Bob exhales through his nose, gaze lingering a second longer before he forces it away, trying not to make it into something it isn’t.
Around him, the house keeps moving. Conversations continue. Someone laughs again, louder this time. A door opens somewhere down the hall, then shuts.
Everything is exactly as it should be.
And yet, standing there without Todd immediately in sight, Bob feels it. That quiet, strange disconnect.
Like he’s stepped back into something that didn’t pause for him while he was gone.
He barely has time to settle into that feeling before it shifts again.
A movement to his left—quick, purposeful.
Someone steps into his space.
Not close enough to be a problem, but close enough to make it one if it went any further.
Bob turns his head, attention snapping to him automatically.
New.
That’s the first thing he notices.
He doesn’t recognize this guy at all.
Younger, maybe. Or just newer. There’s a kind of stiffness to him, something a little too alert, like he’s still figuring out where he fits here—and compensating for it.
His eyes flick over Bob, quick and assessing.
“Can I help you?” he asks.
It’s not outright hostile.
But it’s not welcoming either.
There’s an edge to it—territorial, guarded. Like Bob is something that needs to be accounted for before he’s allowed to exist in the space.
It catches Bob off guard.
Not enough to show it—but enough that something in him stills.
For a second, he just looks at him.
Then he straightens, subtle but unmistakable. Shoulders back, posture settling into something more deliberate. Calm, controlled.
He’s not used to this.
No one here has ever…
“Yeah,” Bob says evenly, voice quiet but steady. “I’m looking for Todd.”
The guy doesn’t move.
If anything, he leans in just slightly, like he’s not convinced that’s a good enough answer.
“And you are…?”
That’s the moment it tips.
Not into anger—but into irritation.
A flicker of it, sharp and unexpected.
Bob’s brows pull together just slightly, eyes narrowing—not aggressive, just… unimpressed. There’s a quiet who the hell are you sitting right behind his gaze, even if he doesn’t say it out loud.
Because this—this is new.
No one here has ever questioned him like this before.
For a split second, something else slips in underneath it.
Small. Quiet. Easy to miss.
Does Todd not talk about me anymore?
It’s not a full thought—more like a reflex, something instinctive and unwelcome.
Bob’s jaw tightens just a fraction, pushing it down before it can settle into anything real.
It doesn’t matter.
It’s just some new guy.
Still, the irritation lingers, low and steady, as he holds his ground—waiting to see how far this is going to go.
The moment stretches just a second too long—and then it snaps.
“Hey.”
It’s not loud.
It doesn’t need to be.
The voice cuts clean through the tension, calm and certain, and the shift is immediate.
The new guy stills.
Bob glances past him just as Todd’s right-hand man steps in, sliding into the space like he’s been there the whole time—like he owns it.
His gaze flicks once between them, a quick assessment, already understanding exactly what’s happening.
Then it settles on the new guy.
“You good?” he asks.
Same tone—easy, almost casual.
But there’s something under it. Something firm. Final.
The new guy hesitates.
Just for a second.
“…Yeah. Just—didn’t recognize him.”
“Yeah,” the right-hand man says, a small nod, like that explains everything. “That’s on you.”
It lands sharper than it sounds.
A beat.
Then, quieter—closer.
“Back off. Unless you don’t know what’s good for you.”
No raised voice. No scene.
Just enough.
The message sticks.
The new guy exhales through his nose, jaw tight, clearly irritated—but he steps back anyway. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t push it further. Just throws Bob one last look before turning and disappearing back into the flow of the house.
And just like that, the tension’s gone.
Or at least, redirected.
The right-hand man shifts his attention back to Bob, and it’s like flipping a switch.
The edge disappears.
What’s left is familiar. Easy.
“Sorry about that,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like this kind of thing gets handled before it ever becomes a problem.
Bob shakes his head slightly. “It’s fine.”
And it is. Mostly.
The guy nods once, then gestures loosely down the hall.
“Todd’s in his room.”
There’s a slight pause—just enough to add something to it.
“Had kind of a rough day,” he adds. “We’re making him take a minute. Relax.”
It’s casual, the way he says it.
But it lands.
Todd’s not out here.
Not because he’s busy.
Because he’s off.
Bob nods slowly, taking that in.
“Okay, yeah,” he says, quieter now. “Thanks.”
“Yeah,” the guy replies easily, already stepping back, letting him pass. “Go ahead.”
And that’s it.
No hesitation. No question.
Just… permission that doesn’t need to be asked for.
Bob moves past him, heading toward the hallway, and as he does, that earlier flicker—the small, unwelcome thought—loosens its grip.
Softens.
Because this?
This feels the way it’s supposed to.
He’s not out of place here.
He never was.
The shift happens gradually.
With every step Bob takes down the hallway, the noise of the house dulls behind him—voices fading into a low murmur, music softening until it’s more vibration than sound. The chaos stays out there, contained, like it belongs to a different space entirely.
Back here, it’s quieter.
Closer.
The air feels different, somehow. Less crowded. More… personal.
Bob’s footsteps slow without him meaning to.
The hallway is the same as always—same doors, same worn spots in the floor—but now that he’s in it, the distance between him and Todd feels suddenly very real. Measurable. Each step brings him closer to something he hasn’t had in weeks.
His chest tightens, just slightly.
Not anxiety. Not exactly.
Just… awareness.
He reaches Todd’s door and stops.
For a second, he just stands there.
Looking at it.
Like it might open on its own if he waits long enough.
His hand lifts—then pauses, hovering just inches from the wood.
This is the first time he’s seeing him again.
Not through a screen. Not through a voice.
Actually seeing him.
The thought settles heavier than it should.
There’s a flicker of something under it—small, quiet, but enough to make him hesitate.
What if it feels different?
It’s not a full doubt. Not something he believes.
Just a question.
One he doesn’t give time to grow.
Bob exhales softly through his nose, fingers curling slightly as he closes the distance.
Then, he knocks.
Not loud.
Just enough to be heard.
The sound comes almost immediately.
Movement—quick, a little messy.
Something shifts inside the room, like it’s being pushed aside or set down without much care. A dull thud follows, then the scrape of something against the floor.
Bob stays still, hand lowering back to his side as he listens.
There’s a beat of silence. Followed by a voice.
“Yeah, hold on—”
Todd’s voice.
Rougher than usual. Edged with irritation, like it’s been sitting there all day and hasn’t worn off yet.
More movement. Closer this time.
A quieter mutter under his breath—something Bob can’t quite make out, but the tone is clear enough. Frustrated. Tired. Not meant for anyone in particular, just… there.
Bob’s chest tightens slightly at the sound of it.
It’s familiar.
And not.
He hasn’t heard Todd like this in a while.
Another step. The creak of the floor just on the other side of the door.
Todd still doesn’t know it’s him.
He’s expecting someone else.
Bob shifts his weight just slightly, something in him going still again—not tense, not nervous, just… waiting.
The handle turns.
The door swings open fast.
Todd doesn’t ease into it—he yanks it open like he’s already halfway through whatever he’s about to say, irritation sitting sharp in the set of his mouth, in the way his brows are drawn together.
He’s expecting someone else.
Bob sees it before anything else.
The edge of it.
Then everything underneath.
The beard—thicker than the last time he saw him, not fully grown out, but enough to change the shape of his face. Rougher. A little uneven in places.
His eyes—tired. Not just physically, but worn in that quiet way that settles in after a long day that didn’t go right.
The tension in his shoulders, in the way he’s holding himself like he hasn’t fully come down from whatever’s been weighing on him.
It all lands at once.
Bob doesn’t move.
For a fraction of a second, Todd doesn’t either.
He’s already mid-breath, irritation still there—until it isn’t.
Recognition hits.
And it’s instant.
Everything shifts.
The tension drops out of his posture like it was never there. His expression breaks open, sharp edges softening all at once into something warmer—brighter.
“Oh my god—hey!”
It’s not controlled.
It’s not measured.
It’s immediate, real, like he didn’t realize how much he needed this until it was standing right in front of him.
And just like that, the whole day he’s been carrying disappears from his face.
Before Bob can even respond, Todd reaches for him.
It’s quick, instinctive—fingers catching in the front of his shirt, already pulling him forward like the distance between them is something that needs to be fixed immediately.
“C’mere—”
Bob barely has time to react before he’s being tugged over the threshold, momentum carrying him inside. The door swings shut behind them with a solid click, sealing the quiet of the room around them, cutting off the last of the noise from the hallway.
Bob stumbles half a step, thrown just slightly off balance by the sudden movement.
He catches himself easily enough—but he doesn’t pull away.
Doesn’t step back.
For a second, he just stands there, close—closer than he’s been in weeks—caught somewhere between surprise and something heavier that settles in his chest all at once.
Todd’s still holding onto him.
Not tight. Not restraining.
Just… there.
Like he hasn’t quite let go yet.
Like he doesn’t want to.
“You okay?”
The question comes softer this time.
Different from the irritation that had been in his voice seconds ago—gone completely now, replaced with something warmer. Careful. There’s a small smile tugging at his mouth, but underneath it, there’s something else too.
Relief.
It lingers in the way he looks at Bob, like having him here—right in front of him—has already taken the edge off everything else.
And Bob—
Bob just looks at him.
Bob opens his mouth—
Nothing.
He blinks once, like that might fix it, like the words are just… stuck somewhere on the way out.
“Uh—”
It comes out wrong. Barely a sound, more breath than anything.
He huffs a quiet, almost disbelieving breath through his nose, tries again—mouth opening, closing—then just… gives up.
For a second, there’s nothing.
No words.
Just him standing there, still caught in Todd’s grip, looking at him like he’s trying to take everything in at once and can’t quite keep up.
Because it hits.
Not gradually. Not gently.
All at once.
The fact that he’s here. That Todd is right in front of him. That this isn’t a voice through a phone or a name lighting up his screen—it’s real, it’s solid, it’s him.
Closer than he’s been in weeks.
Bob’s expression softens without him meaning it to. Something quiet, almost dazed, settling into his features as he looks at him—really looks.
At the beard.
At the way it changes him just enough to feel new, unfamiliar in a way that pulls Bob’s attention in instead of pushing it away.
His hand lifts.
Slowly.
Like, he’s not entirely sure when he decided to do it.
It hovers for just a second—half a breath of hesitation, something small and instinctive.
Then he closes the distance.
His fingers brush against Todd’s beard, light at first. Testing.
Then linger.
And just like that, everything else fades out a little around them.
Todd stills under his touch.
Not rigid—just… quiet. Like something in him settles the second Bob’s hand reaches him, like the rest of the room fades out enough that all of his attention narrows to that one point of contact.
To him.
His eyes flick down briefly, following the movement—Bob’s fingers brushing through his beard, light at first, almost tentative.
Then lingering.
When he looks back up, there’s already a hint of a smile there. Softer than usual. Edges rounded off into something more fond than teasing.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice low, easy. “Couldn’t be bothered to shave.”
It’s casual.
But he doesn’t move.
Doesn’t pull away.
If anything, he lets it happen—lets Bob take his time with it.
Bob doesn’t laugh.
Doesn’t really react at all.
His focus stays exactly where it is, like he’s still catching up to the reality of him being here, close enough to touch again. His thumb shifts slightly, brushing along Todd’s jaw, feeling the shape of it, the texture—something quiet and grounding in the repetition of it.
He steps closer without thinking.
Just enough to close the last bit of distance between them.
Still, his hand doesn’t drop.
There’s something softer in his expression now. Not dazed anymore, but… settled. Like the moment has caught up to him, and he’s letting himself be in it.
When he speaks, it’s quieter than before.
Careful.
“Can I ask you to keep it?”
The question hangs there between them.
Simple.
But not really.
Todd’s smile deepens just slightly.
Not teasing.
Not yet.
Something in his expression shifts—subtle, but there. His gaze lingers on Bob a second longer, like he’s really taking him in now, like the weight of the question lands somewhere deeper than it should.
He doesn’t answer right away.
Just stays there—
close, warm, present—
letting the moment sit exactly as it is.
Todd doesn’t answer right away.
For a second, he just looks at him.
Really looks at the way Bob’s still standing close, still touching him like he doesn’t want to stop. Like he missed this.
Something settles behind his eyes.
Then shifts.
Todd takes a small step forward.
It’s not sudden.
Not forceful.
But it’s enough.
The space between them disappears completely now—no gap left, no question of distance. Bob’s hand is still at his jaw, but now their chests brush, close enough that the contact feels intentional.
Todd’s gaze drops briefly to his mouth—then back up.
“Oh…” he murmurs, voice lower now. Slower. “So you like it?”
There’s a tease to it.
But it’s quieter than usual.
Measured.
Like he’s not just playing—he’s checking.
Bob feels it.
The shift.
The question underneath the words.
He doesn’t pull away.
Doesn’t hesitate.
His fingers move slightly against Todd’s jaw, grounding himself there, and then he nods—slow, certain.
A small smirk pulls at his mouth.
Todd doesn’t answer.
Not with words.
Instead, something in his expression settles—decision, quiet but clear—and he moves.
Slowly.
Close enough already that it doesn’t take much. Just a slight shift forward, a tilt of his head, his gaze flicking once more to Bob’s mouth before dropping—lower.
He doesn’t rush it.
Gives him time.
Plenty of it.
Enough that if Bob wanted to step back, to break the moment, he could.
He doesn’t.
Doesn’t move at all.
So Todd closes the last inch of space and leans in, his mouth brushing just beneath Bob’s jaw before settling at his neck.
The contact is soft.
Warm.
Deliberate.
And it lands like it’s been building there the whole time.
Bob goes completely still.
Not pulling away—not leaning in—just… frozen.
His breath catches sharp in his chest, like his body reacts before his brain can catch up, like the feeling of it hits somewhere deeper than expected.
A quiet inhale, barely controlled.
His hands come up automatically, finding Todd’s chest without thinking—fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of his shirt, grounding himself in something solid.
He doesn’t stop him.
Doesn’t interrupt it.
Just stands there, breath uneven, heart kicking a little harder than it should and lets it happen.
Todd doesn’t linger there long.
Just enough for it to land.
Then he pulls back—slowly, like he doesn’t want to break it too abruptly, like he’s giving the moment room to breathe instead of snapping it in half.
The absence of contact is immediate.
Noticeable.
His gaze lifts back to Bob’s face, searching—not rushed, not uncertain, just… checking.
Taking him in.
Bob’s still close. Still holding onto him. Hands pressed lightly against his chest like he hadn’t quite remembered to let go yet, like he’s still catching up to what just happened.
His breathing isn’t steady.
Todd notices.
Of course he does.
There’s a flicker of something softer in his expression again—something that cuts through the tension instead of adding to it.
“You okay?”
Same question as before.
But not the same at all.
This one is quieter.
Lower.
Carrying something under it now—awareness, maybe. Of what he just did. Of how Bob reacted. Of how easy it would be to keep going… or to stop.
He doesn’t move away.
Doesn’t close the space again either.
Just stays right there.
Close enough to feel.
And waits for Bob to answer.
Bob doesn’t answer right away.
His fingers flex once against Todd’s chest, barely there, like he’s grounding himself through the fabric. His mouth opens, then closes again. For a second, he just looks at him—still a little stunned, still breathing like that kiss knocked something loose in him he hasn’t fully recovered from yet.
There’s hesitation there.
Not because he doesn’t want to say it.
Because he does.
And that somehow feels worse.
His eyes flick down for half a second, then back up, and when he finally speaks, his voice comes out quieter than usual. Rough around the edges. Almost careful.
“I’m having the nastiest thoughts right now.”
It doesn’t sound slick.
Doesn’t sound practiced.
It lands exactly like what it is—a confession. Honest and a little helpless, like the truth slipped out before he could polish it into something safer.
For one brief second, Todd just stares at him.
There’s a flash of surprise across his face—small, sharp, impossible to miss.
Oh.
Then it’s gone.
Not because he hides it.
Because it turns into something else just as fast.
Decision.
Clear and immediate, settling into the set of his mouth, the look in his eyes, the way his whole attention narrows in on Bob like there’s nothing else in the room worth noticing anymore.
Todd doesn’t hesitate.
The moment the words settle, he closes the distance again—hand coming up to the side of Bob’s neck, steady and sure as he pulls him in.
The kiss isn’t rushed.
Not at first.
It starts slow—intentional, like he’s meeting him there instead of overwhelming him, like he’s letting Bob feel it instead of taking it.
And Bob—
Bob is already gone.
He leans into it immediately, like there was never a question, like the second Todd touches him again, everything else falls away without effort.
The breath he was holding slips out against Todd’s mouth, soft and unsteady, and then he’s kissing him back—fully, without hesitation, like the pause from before never existed.
His hands move on instinct.
One slides back into Todd’s beard, fingers threading through it, gripping just enough to keep him close—like he doesn’t want to lose the feeling of it, like he’s been thinking about it longer than he realized.
The other pushes up into his hair, curling there, holding him in place.
Todd deepens the kiss easily, like he was waiting for that—like the second Bob meets him halfway, he gives more without thinking.
Closer.
Warmer.
There’s nothing tentative left in it now.
No space.
No distance.
Just heat, and breath, and the quiet, overwhelming sense of finally having him right there again—real, solid, within reach.
And just like that, those weeks apart disappear.
The kiss doesn’t break; it shifts.
Moves.
Todd takes a step back without really thinking about it, and Bob follows just as easily, still holding onto him, still pulled in close. Their mouths stay connected through it, uneven and a little breathless now, like neither of them is quite keeping up with the pace they’ve set.
They bump lightly into something—Todd’s hip catches the edge of the bed.
There’s a soft, half-laugh that slips out against Bob’s mouth, barely there, more breath than sound.
Neither of them pulls away.
Todd adjusts his footing, one hand sliding down from Bob’s neck to his side, guiding without forcing—just enough pressure to shift them back another step.
Bob goes with him.
Easily.
Like he’s not even thinking about it.
Like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
The mattress dips behind him, and it happens naturally after that—momentum more than intention—as Todd leans forward and Bob gives, letting himself fall back onto the bed without breaking the kiss.
It doesn’t feel like being pushed.
Doesn’t feel like being put anywhere.
Just… falling into place.
Bob’s smiling when he lands—soft, a little breathless, the sound of it catching between kisses as his hands tighten briefly in Todd’s hair and beard, keeping him close.
And Todd follows him down just as easily—
like they both ended up exactly where they were already heading.
The kiss breaks—but only barely.
Just enough for breath.
Todd shifts like he might pull back, just for a second, just to look at him, and Bob doesn’t let him.
His hand tightens in Todd’s shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as he tugs him right back down, closing whatever space tried to form between them.
“I’ve missed you.”
It comes out soft.
Pressed right against his lips.
Not rushed. Not thrown out.
Felt.
Todd stills for half a second at that—just long enough for it to land—before Bob kisses him again.
This one is different.
Slower.
More deliberate.
Less about the rush of it and more about holding onto it.
His grip shifts—one hand still in Todd’s hair, the other steady at his shirt now, keeping him close in a way that feels grounding instead of urgent.
Like he’s making up for something.
Like he’s been waiting to say that without saying it.
And now he finally has him close enough to mean it.
Todd doesn’t answer right away.
Not with another kiss. Not with movement.
He pulls back just enough to look at him—really look this time.
Bob’s still holding onto him, still close, still a little breathless, and there’s something in his expression that hadn’t been there before. Not just want.
Something softer.
Something that settles in Todd’s chest before he can stop it.
It lingers there for a second—quiet, steady—underneath everything else.
Then it shifts.
Not disappearing.
Just… threading itself into something warmer. Something a little sharper around the edges.
Todd’s mouth curves slightly, not quite a smirk. Not as teasing as it usually is.
Quieter.
More them.
“Show me how much.”
The words are low, almost murmured, like they belong right here between them instead of anywhere else.
Not a challenge.
Not entirely.
There’s something else under it—something that matches the way Bob said it, the way he pulled him back down, the way he didn’t let the moment slip.
An answer, in its own way.
And an invitation.
Bob huffs a quiet breath at that—something caught between a laugh and something softer—and it shows on him immediately.
The flush creeps up his neck, across his cheeks.
He feels it.
Doesn’t hide it.
But he doesn’t pull back either.
If anything, it settles something in him.
That last bit of hesitation.
Gone.
His grip shifts—firmer now—and before the moment can slip back into something softer again, he moves.
It’s not rough.
Not abrupt.
Just… decisive.
Bob shifts his weight and rolls them, guiding Todd onto his back with a smoothness that feels more instinct than plan. The mattress dips under the change, their positions flipping without breaking the closeness between them.
For a second, he hovers there.
Above him.
Close enough that their breaths still mix, that their mouths are only a fraction apart.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
It’s quiet.
There’s a hint of a smile in it, something a little more confident than before—but still him. Still softened at the edges, still threaded with that same honesty that makes everything he says land a little deeper than it should.
His hand moves without hesitation now, sliding under the hem of Todd’s shirt, palm flattening warm against his skin.
Not rushed.
Not unsure.
Just certain.
Like he finally knows exactly what he wants—
and isn’t second-guessing it anymore.
Todd exhales softly beneath him—something low and warm that seems to settle deeper the longer Bob stays there.
His hands come up without thinking, finding Bob’s sides, then his back, pulling him down just enough to close whatever space is left between them.
Bob goes easily.
Like he’s been waiting for that too.
Their mouths meet again—less urgent now, but no less intense. Slower, deeper, like they’re not trying to get anywhere anymore. Just stay here.
Hands move.
Not rushed.
Not fumbling.
Familiar.
Bob’s fingers press more firmly against Todd’s skin, mapping the shape of him through touch instead of sight, like he’s reminding himself this is real—this is him, right here, within reach again.
Todd’s grip tightens in response, one hand sliding up his back, the other steady at his side, holding him close like he doesn’t plan on letting go anytime soon.
Their breathing falls out of sync, then finds its own rhythm again—quiet, uneven, shared.
Everything else fades.
The noise from the house, the distance of the past few weeks, the weight of the day Todd had been carrying—it all dissolves into something softer, something steadier.
Just this.
Closeness.
Warmth.
The quiet, undeniable pull of finding each other again after being apart just long enough to feel it.
I just found your blog and honestly the timing could not be better. The way you write caregiver Rhett x little reader is so🥺 sOFT.
Not to get too into it, but I’m going through a really rough patch emotionally. Would it be at all in the cards to ask for like Rhett x little reader like helping them with anxiety? I dunno something about th phrase “my brain’s too loud” or “my brain’s bein’ a meanie” is just like😩
Obviously you don’t have to but I wanted to ask.
Rhett knew it would be a bad day the second he walked through the door after his morning chores. He had been eager to finish up and get back in bed with you, but what he found was not you sleeping peacefully like he assumed he would. What he found was you, sitting up in your shared bed, tears streaming down your face. His face immeditely falls and he's climbing into the bed, pulling you into him without a second thought.
"What's the matter baby?" He asks, gently wiping down your cheeks with his large, rough hands.
You sniffle. "Daddy was gone."
That's when Rhett clues in, you must've slipped into your littlespace shortly after you woke up. "Oh, Bug, I wasn't gone, I was just outside." It's harder to explain things to you like this, especially when you're upset.
"You were!" you practically shout, angrily shoving him away with a childish grunt. "You weren't here to give me good morning cuddles like you're 'apposed too."
Despite your attemps to push him away in anger, Rhett holds onto you tigher than every, pressing quick, soothing kisses to your temple. "I'm very sorry about that, bugs, I really am but you know that Daddy would never, ever leave you all alone for very long and if you had been awake, I wouldn't have gone, I thought that I could go and come back before you even woke up and you would never know."
Even though you had stopped actively crying now, your breath was still ragged and catching on almost every soft breath in. Rhett took this as a small win, holding you a little tighter and slowly rocking back and forth with you, the old bed squeaking with each push back. After several silent moments, he spoke again. "Hey, Bug?"
"Yeah, Daddy?"
"Remember how we talked before about how sometimes your brain tells you things that aren't true like maybe Daddy doesn't love you or how you're bad?"
"Uh-huh, I remember." You nod. "And you said that my brain was just a bit meanie and that we don't listen to it."
"That's right, my love." Rhett smiles brightly at you. Sometimes, he's never sure that you're actually absorbing what he's saying when you're little. It makes him feel better to know that all his words don't go in one ear and out the other. "And so when you woke up this morning and your brain said that I left you all alone... what should you say to your brain?"
"That it's being too loud and it should shut up!" You giggle.
Rhett gives a soft snort, "Well I don't really think little babies like you should say shut up but, I guess if it makes your brain stop being so mean, i'll allow it."
"Shut up, shut up, shut up." You shout with a laugh, always pushing the boundries, seeing what Rhett will let you get away with.
"Hey, you're only supposed to say that to your brain, brat." He grins, digging his fingers into your sides and causing you to errupt into a fit of giggles, flailing and kicking while you're still across his lap.
So maybe your brain had a habit of lying to you and you found yourself struggling more than the average person, littlespace or not. You knew that no matter what, as long as you had Rhett and the ability to tell your brain to shut up, everything would be okay.
——
I'm still fighting for my disability benefits, but if you feel you could help me in the meantime, please click here, I'd be so eternally grateful ❤️